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If I'm Being Honest

Updated: Jan 19

In December of last year I promised to be more forthcoming, with everyone. Even readers. I came clean about my health challenges. It's time for an update. But. please, no pity.

Nothing has changed physically. I am right where I was after surgery. Nutrition remains a struggle. I'm tired. Bone-tired. A lot. What has changed is this: my inability to accept limitations is keeping me from doing anything to the best of my ability.

I'm behind on deadlines and the more clear this becomes, the more I pack into my schedule. I can't NOT. It's a self-defeating cycle.

These limitations are not new, but how to accept that this is life now.... that it will never get better? My rational mind knows that's life, but my soul is still invincible and unable to set realistic goals.

I want everything. I have always been that person: the one who survives and even thrives in the aftermath. I've flipped off cancer, twice. It's unfathomable that my wings were clipped and, most especially, that they'll never grow back.

Yes, I'm working on the mental aspects. I now know the seven stages of grief related to chronic illness. I'm stuck in "loss of self." The good news is there are only two more steps to a healthy outlook:

  • reevaluation of life and goals

  • acceptance

I'll get there. Simon, my wise friend, you will never know how many steps your advice pushed me through. I'm working it and you're a really good friend.

But now, I am also dealing with regular grief. In the last three months I've lost two dear friends.

Friend and author Andrew Evans passed last month, just hours before his debut novel went live. It's like the manuscript and Andy traded places. And, as much as I love his book, RAMONA IN THE REALMS, I absolutely adored the one who wrote it. I cannot fathom that this novel is the first and last glimpse readers will ever have of him.

The other was Kevin Robinson, friend of 30 plus years... mentor; role model; an ear when I needed it at any hour of the day or night; a damn fine human being who touched more lives than Mother Theresa. I haven't talked openly about it because I can't. I can only imagine how much harder it is for immediate family.

He can't be gone... that's all there is to it.

And I can hear Kevin telling me to buck up; I can see him wagging his finger, shaking his head.

Kevin was an author, but he was also a musician, and I think he would like what Nightbirdie said about it all:

Oh dang, oh my, now I can't hide

Said I knew myself, but I guess I lied

It's okay, it's okay, it's okay, it's okay

If you're lost

We're all a little lost and it's alright

It's okay, it's okay, it's okay, it's okay

If you're lost

We're all a little lost and it's alright

If she could climb that rocky dead end path with absolute grace and acceptance, who am I to complain? My road may be a little off, but at least it's paved.

I'll get there. But today and recently, I'm just out of gas, stuck on the side of the road. So, please forgive me if I'm late.

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