Eight years ago I did what anyone would do when something traumatic happens. I picked up the phone and called two of my friends from growing up who unfortunately also experienced the trauma of losing their mothers. I vividly remember both of them essentially saying that my mom had already taught me all I needed to know in order to succeed and that I would be ok. In that moment eight years ago, I definitely called bullshit on their advice. I now realize that the point of many life experiences happening to anyone is to help us put things into perspective. I am learning that gaining perspective happens in many different ways...and that the advice from my friends was actually not bullshit and was wise and profound beyond their years.
Jolt of Perspective
I will never forget the jolt of perspective I got just a few days after my mom died. Nancy and I were headed out to the “shed” in the backyard. I put “shed” in quotation marks because my mom turned the tool shed my dad built into the cutest little mini version of our house. It was painted the same grey color as our house with the same shade of teal on the mini shutters and the door, it had a mailbox marked 6330 ½, it had cute little white curtains along with a flower box in front of the window. Anyways, Nancy and I headed out to the tool “shed” to get something. Most likely a shovel to scoop up Sam’s poop that was scattered across the yard like land mines, but who knows. Nancy was in front of me and she was the first one to open the door. As she opened the door, I knew I heard something rustling around inside. Without saying a word of warning to Nancy, I took off and bolted across the yard leaping over piles of dog poop while leaving her to deal with the rustling noise. Something fell, or jumped, from above the rafters in the shed- probably a squirrel, mouse, opossum, or some other creature you never want to be surprised by- and then Nancy turned around and bolted only to find me clear across the yard, laughing so hysterically that I was crying. In any normal circumstance, there probably wouldn’t be anything particularly special about this event. In that quick 30 seconds, I got the first true belly laugh I’d had in weeks. I also got a dose of perspective.
How lucky I am to be here, laughing with my sister, on a gorgeous day?
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| I spent a really long time trying to find a picture of the damn shed and this hair style prom pose picture is seriously the only one I could find. Also, I'm wearing my infamous prom dress that my mom found at a yard sale for $1. I honestly don't think I've ever seen her more proud of her yard sale abilities. |
Reflective Perspective
Other times, gaining perspective takes years. I was 13 when my mom was diagnosed with breast cancer. I was on the verge of turning 24 when my mom died of breast cancer. I was 29 when my dad was diagnosed with metastatic lung cancer. Hearing those statistics initially provides thoughts of, “Ugh. Depressing.” It’s taken all these years for me to learn that all those traumatic experiences have actually given me incredible perspective. Now, don’t get me wrong. If I was #blessed with magical powers and could go back and change it, obviously I would rather erase all cancer from the world with a giant “fuck you” while ninja kicking in the air. But alas, I don’t have those magical powers (yet) and I’m here with a futile attempt at finding the positives after hell.
Just a few months ago at 31, I was vehemently complaining to my dad about a hike that Nick and I did that I thought was too hard, too long, made me too hungry, required us to get up too early, and was generally just too much for me.
You see, I am notoriously un-enthusiastic about exercise. I know it’s good for me and I always feel great after I exercise, but the process of jump starting myself to actually exercise is a continuous challenge. I love going for a power walk on a nice day, but ask me to go for a run on a nice day? Hell no. I’ve tried gyms and spend most of my time trying to figure out how to use the machines. I’ve tried spin class and my butt hurts so much afterward that I wobble like a penguin for days. I’ve tried Zumba and I did love that, but is Zumba even a thing anymore? I’ve tried barre and I am the person constantly being readjusted by the teacher because I’m not doing the moves quite right. The one thing that has stuck is yoga. I’ve started going to hot yoga and found this great studio that’s walking distance to our house and they always have some very motivational/inspirational knowledge to pass on during the class. Yoga has this magical way of making me feel strong and calm. I’ve even learned how to do crow pose which in my wildest yoga dreams I never thought I would be able to do.
That was a gigantic side tangent about my exercise habits that none of you needed to know except to understand that I’m not one of those people who is an eager beaver when it comes to exercising. The point of my story is that after listening to me gripe and moan about the aforementioned terrible hike, I’ll never forget my dad saying, “You’re lucky to be able to do something like that.” And with those words, my outlook on exercise- and really on a lot of things- changed.
How lucky am I to be physically able to do whatever I choose to do?
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| One of many gorgeous hikes that I complain about. |
My dad’s simple words made me realize that I am so lucky to be able to do these things and that I need to have an attitude and take on the challenge of caring for me- including exercising- with a better attitude. As a somewhat healthy and somewhat active almost 32 year old, a family history of cancer can completely change how you care for yourself and what preventative measures you take to ensure you stay healthy. Nancy and I have met with genetic counselors, tested our genes through some sort of a full genetic panel, and met with a nutritionist who specializes in preventative cancer diets. The nutritionist gave me some insight into why eating less meat is important and she also taught me some hard lessons that I’m working on...most importantly, that I should only be having one- yes, one- glass of wine a week. I am also now privy to many of the recommended preventative screenings for someone with a family history of cancer. In the last year I had the joy of experiencing a mammogram, a breast MRI, and even a colonoscopy. You might be thinking how lucky YOU are not to deal with that until you’re much older than I am. But you know what I’m thinking? Whatever drugs they give you for a colonoscopy are awesome and how lucky I am that I get to have that loopy experience every 5 years. But in all seriousness…
How lucky am I to have the opportunity to know way more about my health than I ever wanted to know and to attempt to be ahead of anything that may be cancerous?
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| If I can learn how to do this from yoga, you can do anything. Truly anything. *Not pictured: this pose lasting for long enough for someone to take a picture and then me instantly falling into the water. |
Changing Perspective
When Nick and I made the decision to move to Seattle, my biggest worry was all of the people we were leaving on the East Coast. Would I become the long lost relative on the other side of the country? Would our friends forget about us? I couldn’t shake this gut wrenching feeling that I was saying goodbye to all the important people in our lives as we made our way across the US in my black CR-V that was stuffed to the brim. Now that we’ve been in Seattle for over a year and a half, I realize that somehow, those worrisome questions are not worries at all anymore. I realize that calling my sister and my dad is actually easier on West Coast time and I talk to them both more than I probably would if I lived on the East Coast. Somehow, we miraculously have friends in Seattle and somehow, my East Coast pals have not left me in the dust. Also, we have 2 sets of great friends on either side of the country both named Meg(h)an and Jordan. How cool is that?
How lucky am I to have incredible friends- and also family, too!- on both sides of the country?
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| With Megan, Jordan, Meghan, and Jordan. Apparently we have a hard time remembering names. To remedy that issue, we just befriend people with the same names. |
Perspective from Others
I am also lucky to have people in my life help me find perspective when I can’t seem to find it. Since 2011, Nancy and I have a chip on our shoulder toward the month of February. Not only is my mom’s birthday in February, but February is also the month we all spent with her in the hospital. This year, on February 1st, just the day before my mom’s birthday, we had to say goodbye to Sam, our doodle of a poodle who was most definitely the strangest, quirkiest, yet best and most lovable dogs you’ve ever met. Since Sam was our first dog, I never experienced the horror of losing a dog.
[If you recall, the short version of Sam coming into our lives is that my dad got Sam as a Christmas gift for us without consulting my mom, who always said she never wanted a dog. You can imagine how that went over.]
Through my blubbering tears, I sobbed to Nick, “This is another reason why my mom never wanted a dog. She always said that people get so upset when their dogs die and everyone has to see their dogs die. And now I get it.” I was truly a blubbering mess. Nick’s reply was short and simple, “There’s also all the great times you had with Sam.” Cut through more hours of me being a blubbering mess...only to realize that Nick gave me the perspective I needed.
How lucky are all of us to have all the memories with Sam, the strangest, best dog?
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| What you don't see is the piece of bacon, chicken, cheese, or overpriced refrigerated dog treat (he refused to eat normal dog treats) luring Sam to stay in these perfectly adorable poses. |
We Control our Perspective
Life is hard. Nobody really tells you that, because who wants to spend all their time talking about how life is hard? The reality is that we all have our own struggles, we all have traumatic experiences, we all get into ruts of negative thinking. This year more than ever, I seemed to finally recognize that it’s what you choose to do with all that shit that flies your way. You can fester in it and be pissed off, or you can chalk it up to learning about perspective and move along. This year has brought me continued perspective, continued reminders to be patient even when I don’t think I can be patient, and continued gratitude for all the luck that has been thrown my way. Whatever your individual situation, I hope reading this brings you some form of perspective, because if you’re reading this that means you’re here.
And damn...how lucky are we to be here?
Of equal importance, Nancy and I have renamed February. It shall now be called Fuckuary.
