The Beauty of the Truth and the Beast of a Lie

Honesty is so important.  I have been saying it for years.  I’ve learned the truth has such a powerful capacity to heal and truly mend.  There’s some who will argue the truth sometimes is better left unsaid.  I believe that if you hold back even tiny elements of truth out of reality, the only thing you’re doing is holding back the fullest of your own potential.

Lying to Yourself:

The biggest lie you can tell is a lie to your reflection.  Denial is so easy to fall victim to.  It’s even easier to dwell in that place of denial.  Yes, you are hurting yourself.  That’s an obvious fact.  But, what we fail to recognize is how that denial affects those around you.  Guess what?  People see your lie.

It has taken me years to realize the depth of my own personal deception.  It was only recently I came to terms with how much I was doing it.  “I’m ok.”  That is such an easy phrase to articulate.  Ironically, with enough repetition of that simple fabrication, one can begin to believe it.  The question isn’t so much if you’re ok.  Its more the question of, are you complacent?  In my case, complacency was the truth.  I understood about a year ago I had been telling myself I was ok so frequently, I believed it.  Then, I sat down and evaluated the validity of it all.  No.  I wasn’t ok.  So, I turned that into the process of acceptance.  As soon as I took notice of where I really was, I was able to move forward and reach a plane of solace.  I found the inner peace I needed with just a little reflection and perspective.

Lying to Protect:

Quite recently a lie of such magnitude has shaken the very core of what life I believed I was living in.  Instead of taking the opportunity to tell me the truth, I was lied to in the name of Not Hurting My Feelings.  I’m not talking about little lies like; No, those jeans don’t make you look fat, or Yes, I love that new haircut.  I’m talking about lies about how one actually felt about me.  What’s the point?  What purpose is that kind of fallacy serving?  It’s damaging to the person on the receiving end of the lie and ultimately it’s devastating to the person living in a lie. 

The truth, they say, will always come out.  That is a fact.  But under what circumstances the truth is revealed is the pinpoint of the pain the lie causes.  For example:  I’d much rather learn about a mistake that was made that hurts me from the person who actually made the mistake.  Finding out the truth through other means is far more damaging to my heart.  It intensifies the lie.  Copping to an error in judgment introduces opportunity for repentance and forgiveness.

Lying to Hurt:

It has come to my attention more than once that in the early days of my marriage several individuals, who claimed to know me, told such a massive lie about me that it wedged a colossal distrust between my new family and me.  Instead of asking me about the lie, I was judged and sentenced.  All of this mind you, unbeknownst to me.  That lie was so immense; it literally unsettled any possibility of solid ground beneath me.  I was left alone many times and treated unfairly because of a point of view I didn’t know anything about.

I know exactly who the people were that told this lie.  Over the past few years of knowing about this lie, I have struggled to keep myself from calling them and letting them have a piece of my mind.  Would it change the affect the lie had?  Of course not.  But there’s a gift in confrontation sometimes.  Now, I am thinking about this lie under a new context.  I have recently learned the long-term effects the lie has had.  One would think that several years of being around me and figuring out who I am, the lie would have been discredited.  Alas, it didn’t.

Recovering

Everything I thought I knew about my life has been flipped upside down.  Because of the lying, my reality was based on faith in something that didn’t exist.  I can’t even begin to describe how hard it is to find comfort right now as I bask in such a devastating truth.  Everything I have relied on has been removed.  For the first time in my life, I have to find comfort on my own.  Even though there has been a deficit in spousal comfort for years, I have lied to myself about the existence of support and that made me feel better. 

I am struggling to turn off behaviors I have become so accustomed to.  My heart and mind are at odds with one another and that is beyond annoying.  All the clarity I’ve needed comes with just a simple trip down memory lane.  But pushing away the one constant, albeit unhealthy, is proving to be quite the task.  Rereading my own words to myself in regards to the path I want to travel is something I’m going to have to constantly do. 

This is hard.  My whole life is changing and it’s unsettling.  Coming to terms with all this truth is kicking my butt.  I am fortunate to have friends that are willing to listen to me talk like a crazy person.  Quite frankly, I am crazy right now.  Things are beyond manic.  But, having friends remind me of the truth is vital for me.  The heart is a liar.  Coming to terms with that is weird.  I’ve put a lot of stock in trusting my heart.  Maybe one day I will again.  Right now my head has to be the one running the show. 

Even though this truth has broken my heart, I am glad for it.  How many years could have gone before this truth was made known?  Where would I be at that point?  It is nuts to think about the amount of time that has gone with such falsehood, but I guess there’s not time like the present.  This truth sucks.  But I know I’ll like it better than the lie sooner rather than later.

I appreciate the words of support and encouragement I’ve been given over the past couple of weeks.  It does wonders for my broken spirit.  I am anxious for this divorce to finalize so I have the tangible freedom to move on.  Until that happens, I fear I’m going to continue running myself into corners.  I’ll probably do that for a while afterwards.  I am blessed with incredible friends and family.  It’s nice to know what people think of me.  Not that other’s opinions dictate anything, but it’s nice to be validated in my truth.

Living In Grief?

A loved one recently told me that they believe I live in grief.  They think I can’t see anything positive around me and that I can’t be happy.   It made me happy to hear someone’s honest perception of me.  Even though it wasn’t exactly uplifting, it is certainly eye opening.  There’s what I believe I put out into the world, and then there’s what the world takes.

I reflected on those words.  I have put into context what she’s seeing when she sees me as a “sad girl.” I can see why she thinks this about me.  As hard as I thought I was fighting to be the fun girl I’ve been, I have apparently failed a bit. 

The truth is, I have had a lot of grief.  Tons.  Probably more than a lot.  Not that I am looking for an award or some kind of special recognition.  However, I have allowed myself to be cynical and jaded more than I should.  As of this moment, that is no longer acceptable.

Right now, my plate continues to fill.  Life doesn’t wait for convenience to throw curve balls.  Consequences of actions or words can rear its head at any given moment.  Karma doesn’t work with your schedule.  It surely doesn’t work with mine.  With that in mind, I am not going to let this new chapter be written for me.  I am capable, smart, and determined to take all the control I physically can.

As of this moment, I am creating a list of priorities that are all about my satisfaction.  This morning I was talking to my brother and it struck me what I needed to blog about.  ME!  Instead of writing about how this new bad thing is happening, I’m going to write what I’m going to do about it.  I’m going to put all of my energy that yearns to be in depression into action.

Step One:

Finalize my divorce.

Step Two:

Develop and improve the relationship between my daughter and I.

Step Three and Four:

Get my passport.  Go to Ireland, Spain, Italy, and England.

The following steps will be taken simultaneously.

Step Five:

Enroll in school and pursue a degree in nursing.

Step Six:

Ride my sister’s ass until she gives me all the illustrations I need to FINALLY get published.

Step Seven:

Get Published.

Step Eight:

Write my ass off.

Step Nine:

Get my OWN band.

Step Ten:

Sell this house that has held me prisoner in more ways than physical.

Step Eleven:

Move on with my life and be unapologetic with who I am.  Feel as big as I am.  NEVER shrink myself again for the sake of something without guarantee.

Until this morning I kept saying I don’t know what to do now.  I’m so shocked that in such a short period of time I’ve figured it all out.  Having this kind of clarity during such a tumultuous time is something I can’t ignore.  I certainly can’t let it slip away from me.  If I do, at this point my failures and unmet goals are solely MINE.  I no longer have one shred of excuse to hold me back from being the beast of a person I am. 

I know who I am now.  I haven’t lost sight of that even though this past week has caused me to stop and question.  No.  I am exactly the same person I was a week ago.  I am exactly the same lover, friend, mother, sister, daughter, woman I was before.  Now I am that person with a new gaping wound I will heal and get over. 

I’m not naïve to think I’m going to get over this immediately.  I am just determined to not let the process of recovery inhibit person growth and development.  I have been depressed to the point of suicidal thoughts before.  I vowed to myself I would never let that happen again.  Granted, I never thought I would ever face something that dire again.  But, like I said, life’s trials aren’t phased by your willingness/readiness to handle them. 

I’m going to have many moments where I’m going to let myself slip into the sadness necessary to properly grieve this.  I’m not going to stymie my emotions.  They need to be felt.  I need to allow the evolution to play out.  But I will always fight to stay in control of them.  I know that I have a few friends that know me well enough to see if I’m slipping and are willing to jerk my head out of my ass.  I’m going to need to be checked occasionally.  But I am NOT going to let this defeat me or deter me from becoming the most amazing person he left.

Whimsy and Responsibility

A long time ago, I was flat out told I was the only one who can make me feel any one way.  I rebutted immediately and told her she was wrong and severed any further guidance from her.  But, in the end I wound up learning a valuable lesson about responsibility as it pertains to feelings.  Yes, I can choose to remain upset about something someone said or did.  In a way, I determine the length of time I allow myself to feel a certain way about an incident.  But to say to me that words and actions of another can’t make me feel anything is a massive untruth.

The words I choose and the actions I take bear weight.  Whether I’ve chosen to cut someone down or lift them up, I am responsible for making someone feel happy or sad as a result of my actions.  I fully own things I say and do and if I transgress (which I do frequently) I will apologize and seek to repent.  Taking responsibility for what I do is vital in the development of me.  Flitting about this world without care for repercussion or recourse is ignorant and will eventually get the better of me.  I am still paying for bad karma, I don’t need to create any more.

For me, responsibility plays a large part in my dealings with my fellow man.  I try earnestly to treat others the way I want to be treated.  It feels one-sided most of the time, but I don’t allow that to affect my chi…too much.  I try to give thought to the words that come out of my mouth.  A five second pause to quickly assess the reception of my words.  Some, who know me, believe I have no filter.  Let me assure you, I do.  I choose my words most of the time with care.  If I offend, it isn’t typically personal.  There are circles I speak more freely, but on the whole I don’t go out of my way to piss anyone off.

There have been many times I have sat back and watched a person go through their life with seemingly no remorse.  They have left a trail of rubble and ruin behind them and are totally oblivious.  It is nothing short of maddening to see people like this storm through life without responsibility for anything.  And to twist the plot further, when life does catch up to them, they’re the ‘victim’ and befuddled as to why this is “happening to them.”  But because there has been this history of whimsy it’s impossible to get them to understand the whys of what’s going on. 

There are tons of cute quotes to encourage and inspire positive living.  Responsibility matters.  Live life on purpose.  When you do, you’ll find taking ownership of what goes right is just as rewarding as taking ownership of what goes wrong.  Those lessons won’t suck any less, but the perspective is more readily available when our vision isn’t narrowed by fault. 

Tempo? Prestissimo...Largo...

I’m trying to acclimate to Sierra Vista.  Things are going well...despite new challenges being faced here on the home front.  My car (which is driven regularly) has decided it has had enough of us and has started throwing very expensive temper tantrums.  Fabulous.  That is really nothing too much to handle considering the much larger fish I’m currently frying.

My daughter has grown up so much in the few months I have been gone.  It has been fun getting to know the young woman I have living in my house.  Alex is on cloud nine having all of his space and toys back at his disposal.  I swear, the kid remembered every single item he loves.  Getting into the rhythm of my house after the time of separation has proven to be a little rough.  I’ll get it back...I am immensely grateful for the patience my daughter has with me right now.

I haven’t had much time to recuperate.  Not that I expected to be given such a thing.  I am still a mom.  There’s no rest for a mom.  Well, there is.  It’s called sleep.  But, battling the junk bug I got a few days before I left Oregon has left a lot to be desired by way of rest.  I’m exhausted.  

The question I am hearing every day, “Are you going to go back to Oregon?” is hard to answer.  My first inclination is, No.  But, there’s this lingering doubt and apprehension I have in fully committing to that answer.  I struggle deeply with priorities.  How do you sort them accordingly when they are all so important?

As far as my dad goes, things aren’t awesome.  Yes.  He has cancer.  The word awesome usually doesn’t coincide with cancer unless you’re referring to a last chemo session.  In that regard, we are miles away from such a milestone.  I got his latest lab results today.  Two cycles of chemotherapy in a row have proved pointless.  When we first started this whole thing, his M-spike was at 1.46.  That is below the threshold of being considered Stage III.  After the first round, the number came down significantly to 1.24.  We were instantly hopeful that this approach was going to be successful.  

At the end of the 4th cycle of chemotherapy, the results went up.  He had come down to 1.08 in three cycles.  The 4th cycle indicated an increase in cancer cells rising up to 1.24 (or thereabouts).  Today’s results showed 1.31.  The chemo isn’t working. 

When the doctor saw the results of the last lab report, he became instantly proactive in adding an oral chemotherapy in addition to his IV therapy.  After a few phone calls and getting in touch with an amazing organization, he’ll begin that therapy on Friday.  He’ll have to take a pill every day until one of two things happen.  One:  The cancer dies.  Two:  He develops side effects with potential permanent damage called neuropathy (numbness in fingers and toes). 

I was able to ask a few questions of the doctor on Monday in regards to this new drug.  There were a few things I wasn’t entirely clear about.  I wanted to know why this drug above all the other options and if there would be a “break” period similar to what my dad gets now on the IV chemotherapy.  This drug has the highest success rate.  It isn’t FDA approved, but my dad doesn’t fall into the category of concern for the reasons why it has not passed regulations.  As far as a break?  No.  He explained this would be taken every day in the hopes of getting the cancer to remission.  The main complaint of patients on this drug was fatigue.  That isn’t something my dad has really had to deal with so far.  He’s not excited about that aspect, but you take what you get in the pursuit of health.  The second complaint is the neuropathy.  Apparently, it’s quite common.

When my dad received his last dose of the fifth cycle, he showed some signs of ailment.  His voice had been froggy and he just didn’t look real good.  The nurse took labs right then and there to check out the status of his blood counts.  He’d reached one of the common stages of chemotherapy when the immune system reaches a really low point.  The nurse sent home some information about what he needed to do and what we as co-habitants needed to do.  Sanitization Death-Con 4.  Super hand washing and more frequent cleaning of bedding.  Stuff like that.  He didn’t need to invert to a bubble, but close.

We all knew that point would come.  It was weird to have it happen.  Seeing him look weaker and weaker was hard but then being told the just how weak he is was unsettling.  I kicked into business mode and trucked on through....then I got sick.  It was awful to have a fever and avoid contact with him or his things.  So far, he has not gotten sick.  Knock on wood.

The waiting game continues.  There is no way of knowing just what is going to be next from one cycle to the next.  I cross my finger and hope things are working.  Two times in a row has taken a toll on my optimism.  We were sailing towards a good place.  Positive thoughts were abundant when we thought things were going to be able to be managed.  The management team has failed.  I can only hope he’s going to have a better success with the combination of the new drug.  We’ll know in about 30 days.

There are things I want to commit to here.  I want to get back into the life I was living before cancer.  I am having a hard time finding conviction, with the possibility of things needing to be once again placed on hold.  In the past I’ve thought, “Shit or get off the pot.”  Well.  That doesn’t apply to this situation.  Everything is out of my hands.  I can literally do nothing to take away the disease and set the road back where it was.  The road is being repaved and I can’t see where the construction is headed.

I’m stressed out.  I’m torn.  I’m helpless.  I’m not quite defeated, but I am familiar with this territory.  I feel guilty for being away from my kids and husband for so long.  But I know that I would have equal guilt if I hadn’t gone.  That part sucks.  There’s a myriad of other issues I’m working out that are no less out of my control.  I vent and I brood.  I don’t know what I need to take care of my right now except to push forward and not get swallowed in the wallow.  The pity party is swinging, but I’m not ready to go in and join.  I have thought about having a drink about it, but have refrained.  I continue to journal like a mad woman and God bless anyone who ever reads my private words.  People with degrees would be baffled...

Things that are making me happy right now:

(In no order of importance or impact.)

My stupid fingernails.  HA!

My growing music library.

My bed.

My husband’s adoration.

My kids and their developing personalities.

My siblings and my extended family.

My Passion Parties business.

Surprisingly those things are just enough to keep me from the wallow.  Those are the forces pushing me into the sun and out of the dark places of my mind.  I bought myself a Bravelet (www.bravelet.com) in the color of awareness for Multiple Myeloma.  It’s gorgeous and I love it and it’s a little way to keep me smiling.  I ordered another one today in honor of my mother.  

I found it weird that both of my parents were diagnosed with something “Multiple”.

I’m overdue for some social interaction and some painful laughter.  Please call me and help a sister out!