So many inner-voices show up to tackle the mundane and the life-changing; and they don’t always agree.
Mom loved wearing heels. I recently wrote about it. I think about mom regularly, but today, on Mother’s Day, I thought about her more. Partially because there were so many societal sign-posts reminding me to think about her. But mostly because it’s my first Mother’s Day without her. I feel a missing about that. And a gratefulness for the many years she had. She nearly made it to 89. That was a dang good run.
Big Mother’s Day wishes to you mommy. I love you.
Photo source: Dad
Bubba had been monitoring his PSA tests for prostate cancer for a while when things shifted from Active Surveillance (yes, that’s a term) to time-to-act. Bubba is a voracious reader and researcher. He read: books, articles, medical studies. He talked with a friend who’d gone through a prostate cancer diagnosis 10-years earlier. But other than one friend, it was a solitary exploration.
Years ago, I joined a Facebook Group for women going grey. No, it’s nothing like cancer, and yet, it was comforting and helpful to spend time with people going through a shared experience. I appreciated the support and the vulnerability people shared as they dealt with insensitive comments, insecurities, doubts and successes. I suggested to Bubba there might be a similar group for prostate cancer.
The Prostate Cancer Support Group he joined has over 10,000 people—men and women—from around the world. After joining, reading, asking questions, and commenting, Bubba told me he was glad I’d suggested it; said I might want to join. I’m glad I did. The group has been a blessing. In appreciation of the group and the people there—all going through an incredibly difficult time—I posted this to the group page.
I’ve told many people how grateful I am for this group. Not for why it exists, but that it does. It helped my partner decide what treatment to select after the doctor told him he could no longer watch and wait. It’s given me a place to gain perspective and wisdom. Not just about prostate cancer, but about life.
The energy here is an energy of “presence” to what’s important. People talk about fears, hopes, sadness and joys with a visceral openness. People share in ways that are raw and funny, sad and heartfelt. I’m touched by it.
I read posts and know there’s an amazing variety of people here from around the world, people I’d never meet in my day-to-day life. When someone joins this group, no one cares what type of car they drive; what they do for a living; the size of their house. Members want to know how they can help this new arrival, this person who is trying to navigate a cancer diagnosis that devastates and scares them.
Cancer knows no boundaries. People with cancer instantly share a connection with every other person with cancer. People of all affiliations and ages and colors and races and income and all other groups are here. Interacting; being kind; compassionate; supportive; loving.
That’s what connects us. That ability to be present to the experience and emotions of others, oblivious to labels.
For all who post and all who simply witness and learn, this group reminds me we’re all connected. For that, I’m immensely grateful. There is hope in that feeling. Thank you.
Bubba chose to have a robotic radical prostatectomy in March. He was pleased with the procedure and is doing well with his recovery. And, it’s cancer. It was surgery. There are side-effects associated with the procedure and further monitoring to be done. He’s in good shape, and he’s still on the recovery path.
And as a Public Service Announcement, don’t tell anyone with prostate cancer they have the easy cancer; per the FB Group, yes, people say that. Some with prostate cancer suffer side-effects that permanently, drastically change their lives and, for others, it’s a death sentence. If you’re a guy or know a guy, tell them to learn about the PSA test (and get theirs tested). There are guys in the FB Group in their 30’s and 40’s with prostate cancer.
Photo source: marijana 1 on Pixabay
Two squares of toilet paper. That was it; two squares. There are some things you don’t realize you take for granted until you can’t.
I was visiting my daughter in Ecuador and went to use a public bathroom. A woman at the entrance took my coin and handed me two squares of T.P. That was my allotment, regardless of what nature delivered.
I suddenly couldn’t take T.P. for granted; not on this vacation. After that first experience—and confirmation by my daughter that T.P. was scarce here—I took to glomming onto any extra toilet-paper-type products whenever I came by them. A restaurant that offered paper napkins? Grab some. A grocery store that sold rolls of T.P.? Buy some.
It became standard operating procedure to try and keep extra paper in my pocket, to supplement that offered by the public facility. Still, even trying to plan, I’d hit periods where my pockets were empty as I went in search of a public bathroom, leaving me nervous as I approached. I’m traveling in a foreign country; my plumbing isn’t working so great. Am I about to enter a stall with a hearty supply of T.P. or only have two squares with which to work?
Sure, I’ve experienced that moment of panic when, mid-movement in a public bathroom, I suddenly realized there was no T.P. It’s a sucky feeling, but infrequent back home, and there’s often someone in the next stall who will willingly pass you some, because, well, there’s plenty of it.
Not in Ecuador. This was not something there was plenty of. Up until that moment I didn’t really think too much about T.P. If I did, it was a throw-away necessity, a plentiful household commodity.
Now? Now, I’m deeply grateful that I have plenty of T.P. in my life. As much as my little butt desires.
Photo source: stevepb on Pixabay
In my last post, I wrote about a decision I made years ago that helped me navigate the self-critical voices in my head and challenge their disapproving chatter. As a result, my inner-landscape-thoughts turned in a new direction. The directional change was slow, but that decision led me to experience myself and the world as kinder and gentler. The outside world hasn’t gotten any kinder; but my inside world has.
A few years ago, I made another good decision: I started meditating on a regular basis. Meditation takes the learning from that earlier decision and deepens it. It helps me tap into greater equanimity and contentment. I feel more balanced, less tilted toward finding things wrong and getting upset.
Andy Puddicombe is my meditation guide, his lessons delivered via the Headspace app.
Bubba discovered Headspace after coming across a talk Andy did at Google in 2014. Andy is the voice and experience of Headspace, having spent ten-years studying meditation before being ordained as a Tibetan Buddhist monk.
My birthday was a fizzling failure. Or a shimmering success. It depends on what lens you see it through.
Breakfast seemed simple: go out and have someone wait on me, bring me exactly what I want, clear things away and do the dishes. Luxuriate in some morning spoiling all while checking out a new café in town.
It was the heart of your typical breakfast rush hour when we walked in, and the place was…empty. Not a single customer. No greeter. No wait staff. Utter silence. Not a good sign.
“They’re new,” I said to Bubba. “Still working out the kinks.”
The Sunshine Blogger Award is “given by bloggers to fellow bloggers who inspire positivity and creativity in the blogging community.” I’d love to say that came from the official Sunshine Blogger home page but, if there is one, I can’t find it. This was on this 2018 blog post and since I liked it, I pilfered it.
To have One Day at a Time nominate me for this in April and tell their followers about Walk the Goats is a nice recognition of my blog. And it gives me welcomed encouragement. Thanks, Floating Gold, and sorry I took so long to participate!
Go check out their blog where newsworthy topics are tackled with passion and perspective. Creative writing explorations are done. And our fearless blogger takes on various projects to challenge themselves.
One Day at a Time also has one of the few blogs I’ve reblogged; it was How To Discover New Blogs, which I found incredibly helpful as a new blogger and, now, three months in, it’s still useful, even if Prompts, First Friday and Community Pool are leaving the WordPress umbrella at the end of May.
The Mystery Blogger Award is “an award for amazing bloggers with ingenious posts. Their blog not only captivates; it inspires and motivates. They are one of the best out there, and they deserve every recognition they get. This award is also for bloggers who find fun and inspiration in blogging; and they do it with so much love and passion.” – Okoto Enigma
To have Confessions of an Irish Procrastinator recognize me for this with her April 29th Award nomination, is a gratifyingly, warm acknowledgement. Thanks, and my bad for taking so long to engage, especially since you’ve decided to take a hiatus from your blog. I do hope you come back, because your musings on life and your colorful visuals always caught my attention, entertained and provoked thought. Glad your writings remain on your site.
The Liebster Award, with its tag line, “Discover New Blogs!” feels like one blogger telling another blogger about cool places to visit.
To have A Creative PTSD Gal send other bloggers my way with her April 29th Liebster Award nomination is a gratifyingly, warm greeting. Thanks, Jo, and mea culpa for my taking so long to engage!
Go check out her blog; it’s filled with sketches, doodles, washes, 6-word stories, longer pieces, challenges, a soon-to-end contest, pictures, and, well, just an incredibly wonderful collection of wit, wisdom and wonder.
Reading blogs is, for me, a way to travel, because I discover new things. There’s that initial “lost feeling” experience when I first arrive. The longer I stay in a place, I’m able to get my bearings, start noticing details of the place, and meet some local folks. Then, when I head off to explore new lands, I carry these traveler-impressions with me.
Since joining the blogging community, I’ve heard tales told by people of all ages and from around the globe. I’ve experienced the wonderful cadences, vocabulary and slang of different places. Rarely do I know the age of a blogger, certainly not at the outset; there’s something liberating about that. I gain different perspectives of the world and am reminded we don’t all see things the same way. I may know that intellectually, but this illustrates it.
And during all of this traveling, my suitcase remains in the closet and my own, snuggly bed awaits me. Pretty dang sweet.
Which is why the Liebster Award, with its tag line, “Discover New Blogs!,” feels like one traveler telling another traveler some cool places to go.
To have My Journey to Imperfection send other bloggers my way with a Liebster Award is a wonderfully, warm welcome; it’s as if Walk the Goats now has a little round dot on the blogosphere road map. Thank you Ang!
So…here we go. First: Continue reading “My First Award: The Liebster!”
Some things I take for granted. Knowing how to cook is one of them. I don’t mean just being able to follow a recipe, but knowing how to ferret through the fridge and create something out of nothing. “Let’s see what the refrigerator has for dinner tonight.”
I read that a lot of people don’t know how to cook. I can’t imagine what that would be like. A grocery store would seem overwhelming, especially the produce department, with all those weird-shaped fruits and vegetables. I get intimidated when a new vegetable shows up I’ve never seen, but at least it’s surrounded by familiar friends.
When I started this blog on March 2nd, I wasn’t sure what I’d write about. Or how often I’d write. I knew I wanted structure and I hoped setting up a blog would give me that. When I decided to do it, it was a pretty spontaneous idea.
I had done a blog a year ago–Pursuing Podcasts–for a class. My engagement faded when the class ended. But the class got me started and I learned rudimentary blogging skills. I had used the Lovecraft theme on the free WordPress platform for the class. Since I was familiar—although rusty—with it, I stuck with that rather than pick a new one. One less hurdle to slow me down.
Walk the Goats 