Today's an Eeyore day

Winnie the Pooh, is a childhood story by A. A. Milne. The main characters in the book are Winnie the Pooh, Christopher Robin, Piglet, Tigger, and Eeyore. Winnie the Pooh is a rotund, lovable, always hungry bear. Christopher Robin is Pooh's owner, a little boy filled with childhood dreams and wonder. Piglet is Pooh's best friend, a little pink piggy who stutters when he talks. Tigger is a stuffed tiger full of energy and bounce, and then, there's Eeyore. Eeyore is a donkey who is always down in the dumps. All of the characters in the story are stereotypes of various personalities. A. A. Milne used their characters to weave a childhood tale that has captured the hearts of many. I love the book and love the characters, all except Eeyore. I never liked him much.

We live in a stereotypical world and cancer fighters are among those faced with many stereotypes. We're supposed to look a certain way and feel a certain way. If we don't, we don't fit the mold. But for many survivors, it's not easy to put on the brave or happy face that others may expect.

I've had a lot of folks tell me I'm "brave" for being so happy and positive through my journey. They admire how I've adapted and grown through my experience. Usually, I am a happy go lucky person like Winnie the Pooh. I do pretty well in the face of adversity, but sometimes, that's not how I truly feel. I don't always feel like putting on a happy face.

One thing I'd like people to understand is that cancer continues to affect you long after its left your body. The physical fatigue and maintenance therapy is just the beginning. Then there's the emotional aspect of facing mortality and realizing you'll never truly be your old self again. On top of all that is the constant barrage of medical expenses.

But completing treatment is seen as a great victory. It's something that needs to be celebrated. The celebrations cause us to be seen as heroes although we're really just wounded warriors.

When treatment is "finished" we're expected to keep that happy face glued on, but that expectation is unfair. Many survivors suck it up and keep their true feelings hidden wondering why they aren't able to be as brave as they should be. They put a lot of pressure on themselves trying to live up to the expectations of others.

Expecting someone to be happy they survived cancer is like telling veterans of war, who suffer from PTSD, they should just be glad they're alive. It isn't very easy to be grateful for the worst thing you've ever experienced and I know Eeyore could certainly understand that.

Yes, today's an Eeyore kind of day. Sometimes, I really hate that I got cancer. I hated having to suffer through it. And I really hate what it's done to my body.  None of my clothes fit any more. I look hideous without clothes on. I get tired for no reason. I have become moody and sometimes, yes, I even suffer depression. I don't like it. I'm not an Eeyore at heart.

I don't always feel blessed. I don’t always feel brave. I don’t always feel proud. I don’t always feel glad to be alive. Not all the time. More than anything, I feel tired. It's been 18 months...and I'm still not done with this. Being tired just isn't me.

So I'm writing this to let you know we don't always feel like we're brave when we beat cancer. We don't always feel like putting on a facade and pretending to be happy. Some days are Eeyore days. Sometimes we just want to admit it's hard and sometimes we just feel like wallowing in self pity and that's okay.

And tomorrow, perhaps the little black rain cloud that's hovering over me today will be gone and I'll be having a Winnie the Pooh sort of day...or maybe, if I'm feeling really good, I'll be having a Tigger sort of day, and that's okay too! Being open and honest about how I'm feeling is a good thing and I think it's healthy to admit sometimes I'm feeling a bit down. As long as I don't stay there, I know I'm doing just fine. If I ever find myself being unable to get out from under the gloom of depression though, I'll know I need to get some help and get it fast! Being a permanent Eeyore isn't something I can see myself doing now or ever.

©bonnie annis all rights reserved

Rainy days and Mondays

Karen and Richard Carpenter

The Carpenters were one of my favorite groups back in the early 70's. Their mellow songs could transport me in a sea of calm faster than anything else in the world.

Karen had such a sweet, gentleness to her voice and Richard, her brother, sounded just as kind. I loved watching them perform together. I'd never seen a woman drummer before and Karen was amazing! They had such a chemistry and it was evident that they loved and cared for each other deeply. That was one reason I loved them so...I always longed for a relationship like theirs. 

So many of their songs became instant hits...but one of their songs, always bothered me...not because it wasn't popular, but because of the message. Rainy days and Mondays is the name of the song that struck such a deep chord within me and today, although it's not a Monday, that song came to mind. 

It's been raining here for the past two days and it hasn't let up. All next week, the weathermen are predicting even more rain. I'm hoping they're wrong because this dreary, rainy weather has been making me feel really down in the dumps. I'm not one to get depressed easily so I don't quite understand why I'm feeling this way. Old hurts have surfaced and I just want to sit and cry. Why do we find such comfort in throwing our own pity party? I had to ask myself this question today and I got an answer. 

As I thought about why I was feeling so down and alone and like no one cared about me at all, I could almost envision Satan laughing at me. I could just picture him getting pleasure from my misery. And as I began to think about it even more, I realized that Satan’s strategy is devastatingly simple and effective. He wants us to live in regret of the past and fear of the future, effectively robbing us of the joy of today. 

When it's overcast and rainy, it can be very depressing because it can cause us to become introspective. Often, when we're looking inside ourselves, we become overly critical with things we don't like and that causes us to become sad or discouraged. It's hard to accept the things we can't change or the things we have no control over and that's where Satan tends to prick us. He loves to accuse us and tells us lies about ourselves because he knows if we begin to believe those lies, he's gained a stronghold in our lives. Instead of believing the truth of who we are in Christ, we wallow in self pity. 

When I find myself sliding down the slippery slope of depression, like these rainy, dreary days invoke, I make myself realize that listening to those lies is very dangerous and detrimental to my health. If I don't cling to the truth, I can easily slide into a pit of despair. So how do I combat dreary, depressing, rainy days? Let me tell you.

The first thing I do is put on some upbeat music...something that makes me want to dance! Music has the power to change my moods very quickly. After I put on my happy music, I open ever window blind in my house. I want to let in as much light as possible. Even on dreary days, there's some light outside and letting as much of it in as possible really helps. The next thing I do is remember and quote Scripture out loud. Here's a verse that often helps me: 

The LORD is my strength and shield.
I trust him with all my heart.
He helps me, and my heart is filled with joy.
Psalm 28:7

After listening to Scripture verses, I call someone who can offer me some encouragement. I don't necessarily tell them I'm feeling down in the dumps, but often, they can hear it in my voice and just know I need some loving kindness.

By  the time I've done all of these things, I'm starting to feel much better. The clouds of gloominess have faded away and that spirit of depression is gone. Rainy days don't have to get your down, but when they do, look for something to make you smile. Count your blessings! Every day is a treasure. A heart of gratitude is one of the best ways to dispel depression. And if you don't know any of the Carpenter's songs and would like to listen to an upbeat, happy one, may I suggest you listen to "On Top of the World"? It's a good one! You can hear it by clicking here. 

Listen to Rainy Days and Mondays here.

Listen to the Carpenters Greatest Hits here. 

Lyrics to Rainy Days and Mondays:

Talkin' to myself and feelin' old 

Sometimes I'd like to quit, nothin' ever seems to fit
Hangin' around, nothin' to do but frown
Rainy days and Mondays always get me down
What I've got they used to call the blues
Nothin' is really wrong, feelin' like I don't belong
Walkin' around, some kind of lonely clown
Rainy days and Mondays always get me down
Funny, but it seems I always wind up here with you
Nice to know somebody loves me
Funny, but it seems that it's the only thing to do
Run and find the one who loves me
(The one who loves me)
What I feel has come and gone before
No need to talk it out
(Talk it out)
We know what it's all about
Hangin' around
(Hangin' around)
Nothin' to do but frown
Rainy days and Mondays always get me down. 

©bonnie annis all rights reserved

Space Cadet-ish

Space cadet:

n. A person who tends to "space out" often. He or she does not respond when directly spoken to. The space cadet is not necessarily a person of low intelligence or a heavy drug user, but rather one who is so easily lost in reverie that he or she loses all awareness of the surrounding physical world.

Yep...that's me. I haven't been able to focus on anything over the past few weeks, and while that's not too unusual, since I have probably been this way to one degree or another since I was a child, I've noticed it more of a problem recently. I have no explanation. I could try to blame in on the new medication, Tamoxifen, or I could try to blame it on post surgical depression and truth be told, it's probably a combination of both...but, I just have no desire to do anything.

To give you an example of how spacey I've been feeling, I actually deleted my blog this morning. I thought it was time to take it down. I figured no one was reading it but a few family members and maybe one or two friends, so why keep it going? Why would anyone want to read it anyway? It's full of ramblings and occasionally a philosophical post or two. I've tried to infuse my strong faith in God in most of my posts, but often, I've fallen short and have just written exactly what I was thinking at the time. No train of thought...nothing cohesive. I pity you for being here reading today if you are, because I have no unearthly idea where this post is going right now. 

The hot flashes and night sweats from the Tamoxifen have been about to drive me insane. I've already been there and done that when I went through menopause about 10 years ago. I certainly don't want to experience those symptoms again! I've even noticed some mood swings and being back on the emotional roller coaster again...oh what a fun ride, NOT! My breast surgeon told me when I was there for my 6 month check up that she would be happy to write a prescription for Effexor for me. She said it practically eliminates the hot flashes and other symptoms related to Tamoxifen. But I looked it up. Thanks Google....thanks for giving me more information I didn't need to know. Effexor is an anti-depressant. Oh. Well, I guess I could need that but why would they prescribe it for the side effects from Tamoxifen? I did more research. Apparently, Effexor has the magical medicinal properties that cancel out those hot flashes etc. because it can overpower your brain and do some weird VOODOO on your Serotonin levels making you feel good...real good. Hmm. 

If I'm a space cadet now, I wonder how I would be while taking Effexor. Would I just be a happy little space cadet? Would I just be happy to have no direction or purpose? I guess the Serotonin levels being bumped up a little couldn't be a bad thing could it? But then, I think about all the medications I am currently taking...there are 3 blood pressure meds, the medication to replace my thyroid hormone, the medication to control my acid reflux/GERD, the medication to chill out my adrenal gland hormones, the Tamoxifen - to supposedly ward off any recurring cancer by binding to and blocking any production of Estrogen in my body, and then there are all the vitamins I have to take...Potassium, Magnesium, Vitamin D, and Calcium, none of which are optional because they support the work that some of the other medications are doing.

I think I'm on a Ferris Wheel. I can see the empty seats in front of me and I know there are empty seats in back of me, even though I don't want to look and see them. The guy is about to throw the switch. I see him with the huge lever in his hands as I look way down from my position at the top. Is that a grin on his face? I think it is! My seat is starting to rock slowly backward and forward even before we begin moving. I'm trying to keep still as much as I can but it's futile. Suddenly, the lights come on along the edge of the Ferris Wheel. They look pretty! They're glowing like twinkly little Christmas lights. The music begins to play, an indescribable, unfamiliar circus tune and then....I want to get off. I know where this is going...nowhere. It's going to go around and around and around. I won't be getting anywhere. I won't be making any progress. I'm feeling a little light headed. 

So should I or shouldn't I? Do I need the new medication to help with my spaciness? I don't know. I'm afraid to take another medication. With all the ones I'm on and with all of their side effects, how can I even function? It's a wonder I can function at all...prescription medications aren't so very different from street drugs other than they are a little more controlled and regulated. They all mess with your mind and I want to keep my mind as clear as possible. I want to be able to think and remember what I was thinking. I want to keep a train of thought. I don't want to feel spacey. 

And here I am on a rainy, dreary, Sunday afternoon wondering what to do. I reinstated my blog, as you can see, otherwise you wouldn't be reading this today. I want to keep it. It's a kind of therapy. It lets me process my thoughts and nobody has to read it unless they really want to read it, but maybe, just maybe, there's someone else out there who feels the way I do at times and perhaps my blog will help them in some small way. I sure hope so. 

William Shakespeare said "Give sorrow words, the grief that does not speak knits up the o-er wrought heart and bids it break." I guess I'm still feeling the side effects of the emotional trauma from my surgery. Daily I feel the physical trauma but it's easier to deal with than the emotional aspects of breast cancer. I am still grieving the loss of the life I once had. For some, that may seem silly. They may take the attitude, "just suck it up and get over it. Be thankful you're alive. Be thankful they found the cancer in time. You should be overjoyed." Well, unless you've traveled a mile in my moccasins, don't judge me. I'm doing the best I can. Some days are better than others but today, I'm a little spacey. I'm sure tomorrow will be a better day.

Why do I suddenly feel the need to speak in movie lines right now. I just thought about Scarlett O'Hara and her famous movie line as she lies crying on the beautiful red carpeted staircase. She's lying there bawling and hearing the voice of her father telling her that land is the only thing that lasts, the only thing that matters. She listens intently and starts thinking about returning to Tara, her beloved home, and devising a plan to get Rhett Butler back. As the movie ends, Scarlett raises her tearful face and says..."After all, tomorrow is another day." Her comment implies there is hope...there's always hope. And I know there is. I haven't given up, I'm just on the ferris wheel trying to get there. 

©bonnie annis all rights reserved

I am not a has been

"I am not a has-been. I am a will be." - Lauren Bacall

A well meaning friend sent me a picture of a pink Christmas tree yesterday. She said, "I thought of you when I saw this." I was dumbfounded. Why does everyone seem to think just because I have breast cancer that suddenly I'm enamored with the color pink?

When I was growing up, I hated pink. I was a tomboy. I wore jeans and tennis shoes. I loved playing war with my brother. Deep in the woods we'd trek until we had climbed over tree branches, creeks, hills, and barbed wire. I loved hearing the leaves crunching under my feet and didn't mind twigs tangled in my hair or "hitch hikers" attaching to my pants legs. The girls at school would have cringed if they had known my secret...that I hated wearing dresses and I would rather be playing football in the mud with the neighborhood guys instead of having a tea party. Pink was just not my color. Pink gave me no pleasure.  Even now, at almost 57, I consider myself a tomboy. I hate wearing dresses.

But tomboys can still be tenderhearted. Yesterday, I went to the grocery store. I chose to go to Kroger because it was Wednesday, and Wednesday was senior citizen's day and seniors get a 10% discount. The first time I had ever received a senior discount, I had to ask for it. The woman behind the counter didn't believe I was over 55. I had to show her my driver's license. She said,  "you don't look your age." I was flattered. I've always prided myself on looking young. But yesterday, the cashier did not give me the discount. When I confronted her about it, she said, "we only give the discount to seniors 60 and up." I told her I'd always received the discount in Dekalb County Kroger stores and had been told the policy was 55 and up. I asked to speak to the manager. The manager was adamant about their 60 and up policy. As I left the store, I cried. Rivers of black mascara cascaded down my cheeks. Why was I so upset? Was it because of the rejection I'd just faced at the store or was it something deeper?

When I got home, it took thirty minutes to bring the groceries in and get them all put away. I was so frustrated at not being strong enough to carry more than one or two bags at a time. On the kitchen counter, my bottle of Arimidex, the antihormone therapy, sat reminding me that in just a few more days, I'll face a whole new set of challenges. Challenges of bone pain, fatigue, hair loss, mood changes....

Walking into my bedroom, I glanced down at my dresser. There on the dresser top lay several breast cancer bracelets I'd received in the mail from friends. More pink! I hadn't bothered to put them on, I hated pink. I stripped off my Lymphedema sleeves and changed into a flannel shirt. At least at home, I could be comfortable and be my true self.

I made a bowl of soup and sat down at the table to eat lunch. In front of me, I had a stack of magazines. I began flipping through the top one and almost every other page had something pink on it! Pink ribbons were everywhere. I closed the magazine and sat silently for a few minutes. I realized why I'd had the meltdown in the Kroger parking lot. It wasn't that I didn't receive my senior discount, it was about my feeling helpless to control all the changes that have and are taking place in my life. Those pink ribbons are constant reminders that I'm not who I once was...that I am someone different.

Walking into the bathroom, I looked at myself in the mirror. "Who are you?" I thought to myself. On first glance, I see myself as a mid forties woman with a fresh coat of makeup, fairly attractive, looking healthy and fit. But then, as I take a second look...I see a facade. I see a wrinkled woman who's learned the fine art of camouflage. I see fading hair color revealing various shades of gray. I see a woman with no feminine form. I see a deep sadness and pain. I force myself to look for a few minutes longer and then it is too much and I turn away. "I hate pink," I say to myself.

The holidays are coming. In just a few weeks it will be Thanksgiving. Normally, I would prepare a huge feast and have all the children and grandchildren over for dinner. This year, I'm too tired to do it. Two of my daughters have agreed to pick up the slack. They are going to take care of all the details. They'll come to my house and prepare the food. We'll celebrate being together. We'll celebrate being alive and my heart will be overcome with God's goodness. Usually, after the meal is finished, we set up the Christmas tree. It's usually a time filled with fun and joy. This year, I'm just not feeling it. I have no desire to put up the tree...no desire to buy gifts...no desire at all. I want to slap myself silly and say, "what's the matter with you!" I know I have so much to be thankful for and I should be overjoyed to celebrate the holidays but something inside has changed. It hurts me to realize I'm not the same as I used to be...I'm different. I wonder if the kids can see it. I hope they don't. I don't want to upset them.

I know I'm suffering from depression and that really scares me. It's not like me to feel down in the dumps and so alone. As I face this reality, I also realize that even when I don't quite recognize the face staring back at me in the mirror, God does. He doesn't look at my outsides but my insides. He looks on my heart. He knows the trauma I've faced this year. He knows what it's done to my self esteem. He knows I'm struggling and still, He loves me. This grown up old tomboy with wrinkled face and graying hair...this old woman with no breasts, He still loves. Now it's up to me to learn to love myself again...to realize I'm not a "has been" but a "will be." Maybe a good romp in the woods would help jog my memory a little bit.

Breast cancer awareness is symbolized by the color pink and that's okay if it causes women to check their breasts but if you know someone with breast cancer, be sensitive to the fact that the color pink may not be their "new" favorite color. Some women with breast cancer want to surround themselves with pink everything but many do not. It's hard to be constantly reminded of what was instead of what is now. Each of us have to process things in our own way and for me, pink is a constant symbol of the fact that my life is no longer the same. So no, this year, I won't be putting up a pink Christmas tree and I won't be donning my green tree with pink ribbons. In fact, I may not put up a tree at all. Perhaps I'll just take a walk in the woods, where nothing is pink, and enjoy the beauty of nature. That sounds like a tomboy's dream to me, and if I get the urge, I may just climb up in the tree and sit there for a while just thinking of the me that is still to come...the me that will be.

©bonnie annis all rights reserved