The following quote from John Bradshaw's book "Bradshaw on: Healing the Shame that Binds You" supports what I have been writing repeatedly in this blog, that there is support for physical disesases, such as cancer, but not for emotional diseases, such as depression or feelings of shame. Read what John Bradshaw writes on the topic remembering that those who are shamed-based feel as though their total self is flawed.
"To be shamed-based is to be in intolerable pain. Physical pain is horrible, but there are moments of relief. There is hope of being cured. The inner rupture of shame and the 'mourning' for your authentic self is chronic. It never goes away. There's no hope for a cure because you are defective. This is the way you are. You have no relationship with yourself or with anyone else. You are totally alone. You are in solitary confinement and chronic grief."
"You need relief from this intolerable pain. You need something outside of you to take away your terrible feelings about yourself. You need something or someone to take away your inhuman loneliness. You need a mood altering experience."
Monday, June 1, 2009
Saturday, May 23, 2009
Not anxiety
As of yesterday, I am officially done with radiation, and I just found out yesterday that the result of my genetic testing is negative. I should be happy but this overwhelming feeling of sadness has taken over my emotions. I dont have cancer, I am not at risk for recurrence, and after exploring my feelings through this blog I don't think that I even suffer from depression or anxiety. Peeling back the onion layers from these past few months, I realize that the culprit is a very toxic case of shame.
From what I understand about shame, people who feel it do not just feel bad about something that they have done wrong, they feel as though their whole self is flawed because of what they've done wrong. This is exactly how I feel now and how I've felt for most of my life. As I've gotten older, the sense of feeling flawed as diminished, but even though I don't feel it as much as I used to, I do know that it is still there. And now I know that I wanted to have cancer because it made me feel less shameful when my friends were paying attention to me. I felt that if people were caring about me and sad about me being sick then they must really like me and there is no reason to feel shame. But now that I have a clean bill of health, my support system will no longer be validating me and my feelings of shame may return. I need to rely on myself to not let that happen.
I've said this before but it is worth repeating that I find it sad thaat people have to fight their emotional battles in isolation. People don't know how to handle emotions because feelings can't be explaind logically. Emotions don't always give people fair warning before they strike and then that dreadful feeling may pass before the sufferers can get their support team together.
I've decideed to treat my shame as a disease because it gives me direction to do so. As far as I can understand, the cure for shame is pride and the first part of my treatment is to read books by John Bradshaw.
From what I understand about shame, people who feel it do not just feel bad about something that they have done wrong, they feel as though their whole self is flawed because of what they've done wrong. This is exactly how I feel now and how I've felt for most of my life. As I've gotten older, the sense of feeling flawed as diminished, but even though I don't feel it as much as I used to, I do know that it is still there. And now I know that I wanted to have cancer because it made me feel less shameful when my friends were paying attention to me. I felt that if people were caring about me and sad about me being sick then they must really like me and there is no reason to feel shame. But now that I have a clean bill of health, my support system will no longer be validating me and my feelings of shame may return. I need to rely on myself to not let that happen.
I've said this before but it is worth repeating that I find it sad thaat people have to fight their emotional battles in isolation. People don't know how to handle emotions because feelings can't be explaind logically. Emotions don't always give people fair warning before they strike and then that dreadful feeling may pass before the sufferers can get their support team together.
I've decideed to treat my shame as a disease because it gives me direction to do so. As far as I can understand, the cure for shame is pride and the first part of my treatment is to read books by John Bradshaw.
Friday, May 8, 2009
Paradigm shifting?
On March 17, 2009, I described my inspiration for this blog, that there was a part of me that wanted a positive cancer diagnosis without knowing why. Since that day, I've been paying attention to myself, drawing, analyzing events for clues that might unravel answers, and I've been blogging these experiences and using tools to try to figure out why I want to be sick.
When I first started writing this blog, I suspected that wanting to have cancer was connected to depression, that I wanted an "exit" to a very unhappy life. But, I soon admitted to myself that my life is not all that unhappy. My mind and body is, however, very anxious. I live every day in fear that something bad is going to happen, which can be very exhausting, and I think about how serene it would be to find an escape for that. In addition, I think about how full of shame I've felt almost all my life, for nearly everything that I've done, and I think about how difficult it is to live with that haunting shame, and how nice it would be not to have to live with it anymore.
And then I think about how courageous people look when they have cancer - Elizabeth Edwards, Steve Jobs, Patrick Swayze, to name a few. I want to look courageous too. I want to be able to go for my treatments while still holding down my job and the household with admirable flexibility. I want people to look at me and say "Wow, what you are doing is absolutely amazing."
But, I think that my "grand wish" for sickness has been shaken by recent events. On April 20th, the son of a co-worker lost his 2.5 year battle with brain cancer. He was only 31. In another event, a friend of mine has flown halfway around the world to be with her sister who is now in hospice. I heard from my friend's mother last week, and it nearly broke my heart when she told me that losing a child is more than she can bear. I mean, who the hell do I think I am to want myself dead at the age of 53, when these two young people have been cheated out of their young lives? If I were the loved ones - my co-worker, my friend, my friend's mother, I would just smack myself right in the face.
Another event that gave me pause about my wish was a controversial anti-smoking commercial which ran in Australia. In the ad, a young boy around the age of 3 or 4 was with his mother in a crowded train station. The mother walked away for a second and the camera focused on the boy and the fear to terror that emerged as he realized that his mother was no longer beside him. The voiceover then said "This is how he reacts when he loses you for a minute. Imagine how he would feel if he lost you for a lifetime." And that ad shook me up. I thought about my kids, my youngest specifically, and realized that I do mean something to him and he would be very unhappy without me. That was a huge realization, by the way, to finally get into my heart so that I really believed it, that my kids really love me and want me there for them. There was a time not too long ago when I thought that they would be better off without me.
And then there was yesterday when I experienced a headache that was so debilitating that I could not lift my head from the pillow without feeling nausea. I realized that this is the way I would probably feel if I were going through chemo. I thought about how bored I was just lying in bed, not being able to do anything except think and just let my mind wander until it reached the thought that said "Is this what you are wishing for, because this is what your life would be like if you had a more serious stage of cancer."
As I mentioned earlier, there is something very admirable about heading off to treatment every day and juggling that with my day-to-day responsibilities, but there is nothing at all dignified about being hunched over a toilet still feeling the urge to throw up when there is nothing left in your system to purge.
OK, now don't get me wrong, my paradigm has not completely shifted (there is still that genetic testing result that I am waiting for) and my blog is not at all over, but see how my journalling has already helped me to chisel away some of the layers of resistance and help me to reveal some possible answers?
Afterthoughts:
I am somewhat glad that I had that severe headache yesterday because for the first time since I received my cancer diagnosis, I felt as though I deserved all the good wishes, gifts, and attention that I've received from people. Even through both surgeries and radiation, I felt as though what I was going through was no big deal, but emerging on the other side of that headache pain and nausea, really made me feel like I came through a battle.
When I first started writing this blog, I suspected that wanting to have cancer was connected to depression, that I wanted an "exit" to a very unhappy life. But, I soon admitted to myself that my life is not all that unhappy. My mind and body is, however, very anxious. I live every day in fear that something bad is going to happen, which can be very exhausting, and I think about how serene it would be to find an escape for that. In addition, I think about how full of shame I've felt almost all my life, for nearly everything that I've done, and I think about how difficult it is to live with that haunting shame, and how nice it would be not to have to live with it anymore.
And then I think about how courageous people look when they have cancer - Elizabeth Edwards, Steve Jobs, Patrick Swayze, to name a few. I want to look courageous too. I want to be able to go for my treatments while still holding down my job and the household with admirable flexibility. I want people to look at me and say "Wow, what you are doing is absolutely amazing."
But, I think that my "grand wish" for sickness has been shaken by recent events. On April 20th, the son of a co-worker lost his 2.5 year battle with brain cancer. He was only 31. In another event, a friend of mine has flown halfway around the world to be with her sister who is now in hospice. I heard from my friend's mother last week, and it nearly broke my heart when she told me that losing a child is more than she can bear. I mean, who the hell do I think I am to want myself dead at the age of 53, when these two young people have been cheated out of their young lives? If I were the loved ones - my co-worker, my friend, my friend's mother, I would just smack myself right in the face.
Another event that gave me pause about my wish was a controversial anti-smoking commercial which ran in Australia. In the ad, a young boy around the age of 3 or 4 was with his mother in a crowded train station. The mother walked away for a second and the camera focused on the boy and the fear to terror that emerged as he realized that his mother was no longer beside him. The voiceover then said "This is how he reacts when he loses you for a minute. Imagine how he would feel if he lost you for a lifetime." And that ad shook me up. I thought about my kids, my youngest specifically, and realized that I do mean something to him and he would be very unhappy without me. That was a huge realization, by the way, to finally get into my heart so that I really believed it, that my kids really love me and want me there for them. There was a time not too long ago when I thought that they would be better off without me.
And then there was yesterday when I experienced a headache that was so debilitating that I could not lift my head from the pillow without feeling nausea. I realized that this is the way I would probably feel if I were going through chemo. I thought about how bored I was just lying in bed, not being able to do anything except think and just let my mind wander until it reached the thought that said "Is this what you are wishing for, because this is what your life would be like if you had a more serious stage of cancer."
As I mentioned earlier, there is something very admirable about heading off to treatment every day and juggling that with my day-to-day responsibilities, but there is nothing at all dignified about being hunched over a toilet still feeling the urge to throw up when there is nothing left in your system to purge.
OK, now don't get me wrong, my paradigm has not completely shifted (there is still that genetic testing result that I am waiting for) and my blog is not at all over, but see how my journalling has already helped me to chisel away some of the layers of resistance and help me to reveal some possible answers?
Afterthoughts:
I am somewhat glad that I had that severe headache yesterday because for the first time since I received my cancer diagnosis, I felt as though I deserved all the good wishes, gifts, and attention that I've received from people. Even through both surgeries and radiation, I felt as though what I was going through was no big deal, but emerging on the other side of that headache pain and nausea, really made me feel like I came through a battle.
Tuesday, May 5, 2009
It's anxiety
Today I am reminded of why I started this blog. I got my inspiration the day before I received my diagnosis, when I confessed to my therapist that a large part of me wanted to receive a cancer diagnosis. I have much the same feeling today as I await the results of my genetic testing. There is a very large part of me that wants to test positive for having the hereditary cancer gene that will put me at a higher risk for a cancer recurrence. I feel as though having a positive diagnosis in this case is my last ticket out of here. And again, I am left wondering if the depression is of greater concern than a positive genetic test result.
Also, I am not quite certain that what I suffer from is depression. I don't feel in the depths of despair and haven't felt that way in a very long time. What I feel, instead, is a profound anxiety that cannot keep my body still. It is this constant feeling of always dreading the worst that keeps me from being able to relax. That feeling is coupled with the physical rituals I feel compelled to perform to keep potential evil away. Yup, that's the old Obsessive Compulsive Disorder (OCD), my dearest love/hate companion for over 40 years now.
A good day for me is when I feel as though I have managed to dodge all the bullets in my day. I don't remember a day in which I have felt totally relaxed and really felt good about my life. OK. yes, there were times when I've felt the blessing of peace within me, but those were times when I was medicated with a sedative. I do not remember a time when I have felt truly at peace with myself completely, on my own, without the help of medicine. There is always that feeling of being on guard, much of the time coupled with the physical rituals of my OCD. And finding it difficult to live in my own skin is the reason that I want to escape.
Afterthoughts:
With all the advanced medical technology available now, I am totally shocked and incredulous that there is NOTHING available, except for a Quaalude taken once every four hours for the rest of my life, that can cure (not pacify, but CURE) my anxiety.
Also, I am not quite certain that what I suffer from is depression. I don't feel in the depths of despair and haven't felt that way in a very long time. What I feel, instead, is a profound anxiety that cannot keep my body still. It is this constant feeling of always dreading the worst that keeps me from being able to relax. That feeling is coupled with the physical rituals I feel compelled to perform to keep potential evil away. Yup, that's the old Obsessive Compulsive Disorder (OCD), my dearest love/hate companion for over 40 years now.
A good day for me is when I feel as though I have managed to dodge all the bullets in my day. I don't remember a day in which I have felt totally relaxed and really felt good about my life. OK. yes, there were times when I've felt the blessing of peace within me, but those were times when I was medicated with a sedative. I do not remember a time when I have felt truly at peace with myself completely, on my own, without the help of medicine. There is always that feeling of being on guard, much of the time coupled with the physical rituals of my OCD. And finding it difficult to live in my own skin is the reason that I want to escape.
Afterthoughts:
With all the advanced medical technology available now, I am totally shocked and incredulous that there is NOTHING available, except for a Quaalude taken once every four hours for the rest of my life, that can cure (not pacify, but CURE) my anxiety.
Saturday, May 2, 2009
Dalai Lama
I had the honor of seeing the Dalai Lama today at Gillette Stadium in Foxboro, MA. A friend of mine told me yesterday that she thought I would have a spiritual awakening today. I don't think I quite had that, but I did get some take home messages.
The first take home message was "grow where you are planted." I've heard this message before but it was reinforced to me when I was waiting in line to get some food. The woman who was standing in line ahead of me asked me if I've ever seen the Dalai Lama before and I told her that I hadn't. Then I asked her if she had seen him before and she nodded and said "Oh yes." Then she told me a story about how she was a teacher's assistant for a teacher who asked her if she would mind cutting up watermelon and making sticky rice for the Dalai Lama's visit to the monastery where she also worked. She said that the year was 1978 and they had to work really hard to get 500 people to attend the event. She said that the green room was the same kitchen where she was cutting up the watermelon, so she got to see a lot of His Holiness, and got to talk to him about about her religious journey. She asked about whether she should become a Tibetan Buddhist or whether she should remain a Christian. He said that she wouldn't get the full essence of Tibetan Buddhism since she wasn't born one and that she should stay in her own tradition (grow where you are planted). Then he said that if the Christianity wasn't feeding her she should look to the mystics and she would find what she needed. Then he gave her a list of books to read. I asked her if she found what she needed, and she said that she did.
In addition, to the grow where you are planted message, she told me a story that made my heart smile. The 2nd time she saw the Dalai Lama was when her twin daughters were 6. She and her husband took the daughters with them and they sat out on the lawn and picniced while he was speaking. She noticed that one of her daughters was looking sad, and so she asked her what was the matter. Her daughter said "You told me that the llama was going to talk, and there is only a man up there."
The second message is that being in His Holiness's presence could have a positive impact on how I see the world. During the break, a woman came up to us and said that she was writing an article for New Awakenings magazine. She asked if she could email us in a week and find out whether seeing the Dalai Lama would have an impact on us. I told her that I wasn't sure that I was the right candidate for her article because I had trouble hearing what he was saying, and she told me that she once went to see him and had trouble hearing and he still had an impact on her because just his presence was enough. So now, I am expecting some kind of impact to happen to me in the next week. I will try to remember to blog and let you all know if it's true.
The first take home message was "grow where you are planted." I've heard this message before but it was reinforced to me when I was waiting in line to get some food. The woman who was standing in line ahead of me asked me if I've ever seen the Dalai Lama before and I told her that I hadn't. Then I asked her if she had seen him before and she nodded and said "Oh yes." Then she told me a story about how she was a teacher's assistant for a teacher who asked her if she would mind cutting up watermelon and making sticky rice for the Dalai Lama's visit to the monastery where she also worked. She said that the year was 1978 and they had to work really hard to get 500 people to attend the event. She said that the green room was the same kitchen where she was cutting up the watermelon, so she got to see a lot of His Holiness, and got to talk to him about about her religious journey. She asked about whether she should become a Tibetan Buddhist or whether she should remain a Christian. He said that she wouldn't get the full essence of Tibetan Buddhism since she wasn't born one and that she should stay in her own tradition (grow where you are planted). Then he said that if the Christianity wasn't feeding her she should look to the mystics and she would find what she needed. Then he gave her a list of books to read. I asked her if she found what she needed, and she said that she did.
In addition, to the grow where you are planted message, she told me a story that made my heart smile. The 2nd time she saw the Dalai Lama was when her twin daughters were 6. She and her husband took the daughters with them and they sat out on the lawn and picniced while he was speaking. She noticed that one of her daughters was looking sad, and so she asked her what was the matter. Her daughter said "You told me that the llama was going to talk, and there is only a man up there."
The second message is that being in His Holiness's presence could have a positive impact on how I see the world. During the break, a woman came up to us and said that she was writing an article for New Awakenings magazine. She asked if she could email us in a week and find out whether seeing the Dalai Lama would have an impact on us. I told her that I wasn't sure that I was the right candidate for her article because I had trouble hearing what he was saying, and she told me that she once went to see him and had trouble hearing and he still had an impact on her because just his presence was enough. So now, I am expecting some kind of impact to happen to me in the next week. I will try to remember to blog and let you all know if it's true.
Monday, April 20, 2009
Artist Statement
I finally finished my artist's statement. I want to thank Brad Lovoi for editing my it and pushing me further inward than I would have gone by myself.
Artist Statement:
My natural ability to create tells me that my mission in life is to produce art. I enjoy crafting pieces that are different from anything that anyone has ever seen before. I like to combine different materials to achieve a variety of textures. When I was a kid, I mixed dirt into my oil paints to give the ground I was painting a more authentic texture. Today I use fine netting, transparent papers, and acetate to demonstrate even more textures. A few weeks ago a fellow artist asked me how I achieved the texture over one of my collages and I told her that I applied a very fine netting over it. Just this week I saw her using the netting on her collage. It satisfied me to be able to influence her work and see her replicate my technique on her own.
I have two main styles of art that I use to create my work. With the first style I use colorful felt-tipped markers on paper to create primitive designs. I work in shades of blue, turquoise, purple and green, because those cool colors invoke a calm feeling for me. After I fill a sheet of paper with my designs, I cut half of the paper into strips and glue them to the borders of a frame, or I weave them through solid-color paper to make greeting cards.
With my second style of art, I use mixed media to create two- and three-dimensional pieces of art. I create collaged or drawn artist trading cards, which are small original pieces of artwork the size of baseball cards, that I swap with other trading-card artists. In addition, I create small aquariums by painting or decoupaging the wooden borders of a glass box with mottled strokes of blues, greens, purple, and gold and then I create wire and beaded fish which I suspend from the inside top of the box.
My artwork tells me stories about my self because it is an expression of what is deep inside of me. These stories open a window to my soul and allow me to learn more about my authentic self, the one that is free from the judgments of my day-to-day world.
Artist Statement:
My natural ability to create tells me that my mission in life is to produce art. I enjoy crafting pieces that are different from anything that anyone has ever seen before. I like to combine different materials to achieve a variety of textures. When I was a kid, I mixed dirt into my oil paints to give the ground I was painting a more authentic texture. Today I use fine netting, transparent papers, and acetate to demonstrate even more textures. A few weeks ago a fellow artist asked me how I achieved the texture over one of my collages and I told her that I applied a very fine netting over it. Just this week I saw her using the netting on her collage. It satisfied me to be able to influence her work and see her replicate my technique on her own.
I have two main styles of art that I use to create my work. With the first style I use colorful felt-tipped markers on paper to create primitive designs. I work in shades of blue, turquoise, purple and green, because those cool colors invoke a calm feeling for me. After I fill a sheet of paper with my designs, I cut half of the paper into strips and glue them to the borders of a frame, or I weave them through solid-color paper to make greeting cards.
With my second style of art, I use mixed media to create two- and three-dimensional pieces of art. I create collaged or drawn artist trading cards, which are small original pieces of artwork the size of baseball cards, that I swap with other trading-card artists. In addition, I create small aquariums by painting or decoupaging the wooden borders of a glass box with mottled strokes of blues, greens, purple, and gold and then I create wire and beaded fish which I suspend from the inside top of the box.
My artwork tells me stories about my self because it is an expression of what is deep inside of me. These stories open a window to my soul and allow me to learn more about my authentic self, the one that is free from the judgments of my day-to-day world.
Thursday, April 16, 2009
Voice of God
I haven't written for a few days because I am in the process of putting together my artist's statement. But I wanted to take a break from that and post my thanks to the spiritual forces that (virtually) introduced me to the singing sensation Susan Boyle. For those not familiar with Susan Boyle, she auditioned for the show "Britain's Got Talent" last Saturday night. Boyle is described by CNN in this way,
"Slightly plump and with short brown curly hair, Boyle stood somewhat uncomfortably in the middle of the stage wearing a gold lace sheath. She told the judges and the audience of the show that she was single, she lived with her cat, Pebbles, and she had never been kissed."
The CNN reporter also described that when she came out on stage, the three judges, one of whom was Simon Cowell, snickered and members of the audience rolled their eyes as she explained that she wanted to be a professional singer like Elaine Paige, who is a famous singer in the UK. I, myself, was brought back to that horrible place in my youth where I was just waiting to be judged by those critics in my life who could not wait for me to fail yet one more time.
But then, Susan Boyle started singing "I Dreamed the Dream" from "Les Miserables" and from the first note she had not only the snickering judges, but the entire eye-rolling audience, totally mesmorized with her voice. I love when God seeps into our every day lives and teaches us that life is so much more than the way we look and behave, especially when we do not conform to society norms. I am left with the image of Simon Cowell, sighing with contentment, with a spark in his eye that signaled that he was listening to the voice of an angel.
Afterthoughts:
I wonder if there exists within me, the capacity to communicate a visual expression that is as majestic as Susan Boyle's voice. If not, I wonder what my contribution should be to the art world.
"Slightly plump and with short brown curly hair, Boyle stood somewhat uncomfortably in the middle of the stage wearing a gold lace sheath. She told the judges and the audience of the show that she was single, she lived with her cat, Pebbles, and she had never been kissed."
The CNN reporter also described that when she came out on stage, the three judges, one of whom was Simon Cowell, snickered and members of the audience rolled their eyes as she explained that she wanted to be a professional singer like Elaine Paige, who is a famous singer in the UK. I, myself, was brought back to that horrible place in my youth where I was just waiting to be judged by those critics in my life who could not wait for me to fail yet one more time.
But then, Susan Boyle started singing "I Dreamed the Dream" from "Les Miserables" and from the first note she had not only the snickering judges, but the entire eye-rolling audience, totally mesmorized with her voice. I love when God seeps into our every day lives and teaches us that life is so much more than the way we look and behave, especially when we do not conform to society norms. I am left with the image of Simon Cowell, sighing with contentment, with a spark in his eye that signaled that he was listening to the voice of an angel.
Afterthoughts:
I wonder if there exists within me, the capacity to communicate a visual expression that is as majestic as Susan Boyle's voice. If not, I wonder what my contribution should be to the art world.
Monday, April 13, 2009
No kidding!
In my last post I told you that I asked the Post Road Art Center to take me off their mailing list and, wouldn't you know it, that very afternoon I received feedback from them for the collage that I reworked using their advice. I don't know whether they wrote because I unsubscribed from their newsletter, because that process was supposed to be anonymous, but it wouldn't have taken a genius to figure out who sent them the comments. And it doesn't really matter what prompted their response because they both took the time to validate my effort and give me some valuable creative direction.
The most constructive comment I received was one that I had never received before, EVER, in all my years of art school and that was:
"Have you tried writing an artist statement, summing up what you are trying to accomplish with your work? One of my professors once gave me a list of several questions that an artist should ask themselves every so often; it’s not something I have handy, and I’m not an art teacher; but if you’re really looking for critiques, there are often classes being offered - not just at colleges but sometimes through continuing ed. or art guilds - on refining your vision, critiquing your work, etc."
It has never occurred to me to write an artist statement, and it makes so much sense especially when I have always had a great deal of trouble understanding the "whys" of fine art, why one artist's method of expression reaches more people than another artist's or what makes a piece of art a masterpiece, and so forth. As a result I have a lot of trouble looking at my own work and wondering if it's commmunicating to my viewers or if it really has all the components needed to be considered "art." So when someone criticizes or rejects my work, it goes to that place inside of me that makes me feel as though I am a fraud because I don't understand what I've done myself.
I think that writing the artist statement will enable me to get in touch with my art, and may also help me to get more in touch with myself in the process, because I already know that I have a strong need to produce art. Right now it is coming out with colorful and decorative patterns. I don't know yet what this means artistically, but I do have a sense that what I am expressing visually is coming from my soul, and I know that I need to keep using that expression as a vehicle to become better acquainted with the authentic me.
So, I will now Google the term "artist statement" and use that as a foundation for my artwork going forward and for when I begin SARK's course next Sunday. I cannot wait for that course to begin.
Afterthoughts:
I would love to get your analysis on a comment made by one of the reviewers at the art center. After suggesting the artist statement because she did not understand what I was expressing with my work, she said:
"ps- there are no absolute answers, only questions...."
The most constructive comment I received was one that I had never received before, EVER, in all my years of art school and that was:
"Have you tried writing an artist statement, summing up what you are trying to accomplish with your work? One of my professors once gave me a list of several questions that an artist should ask themselves every so often; it’s not something I have handy, and I’m not an art teacher; but if you’re really looking for critiques, there are often classes being offered - not just at colleges but sometimes through continuing ed. or art guilds - on refining your vision, critiquing your work, etc."
It has never occurred to me to write an artist statement, and it makes so much sense especially when I have always had a great deal of trouble understanding the "whys" of fine art, why one artist's method of expression reaches more people than another artist's or what makes a piece of art a masterpiece, and so forth. As a result I have a lot of trouble looking at my own work and wondering if it's commmunicating to my viewers or if it really has all the components needed to be considered "art." So when someone criticizes or rejects my work, it goes to that place inside of me that makes me feel as though I am a fraud because I don't understand what I've done myself.
I think that writing the artist statement will enable me to get in touch with my art, and may also help me to get more in touch with myself in the process, because I already know that I have a strong need to produce art. Right now it is coming out with colorful and decorative patterns. I don't know yet what this means artistically, but I do have a sense that what I am expressing visually is coming from my soul, and I know that I need to keep using that expression as a vehicle to become better acquainted with the authentic me.
So, I will now Google the term "artist statement" and use that as a foundation for my artwork going forward and for when I begin SARK's course next Sunday. I cannot wait for that course to begin.
Afterthoughts:
I would love to get your analysis on a comment made by one of the reviewers at the art center. After suggesting the artist statement because she did not understand what I was expressing with my work, she said:
"ps- there are no absolute answers, only questions...."
Friday, April 10, 2009
General update
I started radiation yesterday, and there is not really much to say about that except my schedule, a little bit about the women there, and a pathetic story. I will be having the treatment on Monday through Friday for the next six weeks. I've already met some women who are waiting with me. It doesn't matter which stage of cancer we are at, just that we are all in it together. It's an odd kind of camaraderie, but I feel honored to be welcomed into it because I consider all the women waiting there to be very strong and courageous.
Yesterday, when the technicians were positioning me on the table, I was lying there with my arms up over my head and my right breast exposed. I told the technicians that I felt like a Playboy model. They didn't respond, not even a snicker. Feeling silly, I said "do you get comments like that all the time?" and one of them said "Actually, no" and that made me feel sillier.
When I got back to work yesterday, there was an e-newsletter waiting for me from SARK, the inspirational artist I told you about in an earlier blog (from March). She said that she will be offering an online course on transformation. I am looking at this year as a time of spiritual transformation for me, which is my main reason for writing this blog, and so I signed up for her course with great enthusiasm. What follows is a little bit of information about her course:
"In this 30-day interactive, multimedia journey, you'll be working (and playing!) on healing and transforming 15 areas of your life, including:
Yesterday, when the technicians were positioning me on the table, I was lying there with my arms up over my head and my right breast exposed. I told the technicians that I felt like a Playboy model. They didn't respond, not even a snicker. Feeling silly, I said "do you get comments like that all the time?" and one of them said "Actually, no" and that made me feel sillier.
When I got back to work yesterday, there was an e-newsletter waiting for me from SARK, the inspirational artist I told you about in an earlier blog (from March). She said that she will be offering an online course on transformation. I am looking at this year as a time of spiritual transformation for me, which is my main reason for writing this blog, and so I signed up for her course with great enthusiasm. What follows is a little bit of information about her course:
"In this 30-day interactive, multimedia journey, you'll be working (and playing!) on healing and transforming 15 areas of your life, including:
- Family
- Intimacy
- Friendships
- Self Love
- Money
- Loneliness
- Body Image
- Food Relationships
- Illness
- Aging
- Time
- Moods
- Ego
- Work
- Creativity"
This course is just what I've been looking for to conquer my depression/loneliness and to make my life more fulfilling, as I haven't felt inspired to conduct any heavy self-help or spiritual reading. The information and format of this course really attracted me. I honestly believe that the course came to me through Divine Intervention with the praying I had done the day before to receive answers to the question of why I don't believe it when people say nice things about me. In addition, I told the Post Road Art Center, the group that rejected my artwork and made me feel unwelcome in their community, to take me off of their mailing list. I chose to close that door, and the next day, a new, more inviting, door opened up in front of me.
Thursday, April 9, 2009
Looking inward
As I described yesterday, I want to have a conversation with myself in order to challenge my depression, and my blog is a good tool to use as a beginning. So with all of you as my audience, I want to know: "Why do I have trouble believing it when people say nice things about me?"
This is usually where I stop and let my resistance take over. The stuck feeling inside of me wakes up that inner critic who promptly asks me whether I've spent long enough on my blog entry for the day, if I have more important work to do, and why bother even asking the question if I have no immediate answer? But if I just fight this urge to quit, close my eyes, and just focus on that one question, what happens? Let's see....
OK, I have to confess that it is now the next day, that I did not feel comfortable closing my eyes and meditating at my work desk, for fear that someone with authority would walk by and think that I was sleeping. So after several attempts at focusing last evening I have a possible answer to the question "why don't I believe it in my heart when someone compliments me?"
I think that in order for me to truly understand the "Why" I need to be mindful that this all has to do with having been emotionally neglected when I was growing up. My song and dance went something like this - I would receive a compliment, for example, my mother might have said "You are fun to be around." I would take that comment to heart revelling in the thought that she loved me and would always be there to nurture me emotionally. But then she would go away, as she did often, because she travelled a lot in her business. And that left me to ponder the authenticity of her compliment "Well if I am so much fun to be around then why does she keep going away? Aren't I enough to keep her at home?" Later when I started dating I've had dates say to me that I am beautiful or a wonderful person, and then sometime later, I would fomd out that there is another beautiful and wonderful someone that my date would rather be with.
It appears that I associate the words of the compliments with actions, but only with people who I've come to rely on emotionally, specifically my family and certain friends. So now, when a friend or family member compliments me, I am in the habit of dismissing the compliment as mere, unimportant words in order to protect myself from getting hurt, even if the person does feed me emotionally in our relationship. I stay on guard because I have no way of knowing how long the relationship is going to last.
This is usually where I stop and let my resistance take over. The stuck feeling inside of me wakes up that inner critic who promptly asks me whether I've spent long enough on my blog entry for the day, if I have more important work to do, and why bother even asking the question if I have no immediate answer? But if I just fight this urge to quit, close my eyes, and just focus on that one question, what happens? Let's see....
OK, I have to confess that it is now the next day, that I did not feel comfortable closing my eyes and meditating at my work desk, for fear that someone with authority would walk by and think that I was sleeping. So after several attempts at focusing last evening I have a possible answer to the question "why don't I believe it in my heart when someone compliments me?"
I think that in order for me to truly understand the "Why" I need to be mindful that this all has to do with having been emotionally neglected when I was growing up. My song and dance went something like this - I would receive a compliment, for example, my mother might have said "You are fun to be around." I would take that comment to heart revelling in the thought that she loved me and would always be there to nurture me emotionally. But then she would go away, as she did often, because she travelled a lot in her business. And that left me to ponder the authenticity of her compliment "Well if I am so much fun to be around then why does she keep going away? Aren't I enough to keep her at home?" Later when I started dating I've had dates say to me that I am beautiful or a wonderful person, and then sometime later, I would fomd out that there is another beautiful and wonderful someone that my date would rather be with.
It appears that I associate the words of the compliments with actions, but only with people who I've come to rely on emotionally, specifically my family and certain friends. So now, when a friend or family member compliments me, I am in the habit of dismissing the compliment as mere, unimportant words in order to protect myself from getting hurt, even if the person does feed me emotionally in our relationship. I stay on guard because I have no way of knowing how long the relationship is going to last.
Wednesday, April 8, 2009
Getting in touch
In the book, "Eat Pray Love" by Elizabeth Gilbert, she relays a workable solution to conquering, or at least challenging, her depression. What she does is takes out a journal and writes a help request to her innermost self. The request can be as simple as "I need help." She writes the words down on paper to get them out of her head, then she closes her eyes, focuses on her inner core, and she waits for a response from what she calls her "internal voice of wisdom."
She says "Even during the worst of suffering, that calm, compassionate, affectionate and infinitely wise voice (who is maybe me, or maybe not exactly me) is always available for a conversation on paper at any time of day or night."
If she really clears her mind and starts to meditate on her wise self, she usually comes up with an answer that will take her in the direction that she needs to find a solution to her happiness. "In response, somewhere from within me, rises a now familiar presence, offering me all the certainties I have always wished another person would say to me when I was troubled." And knowing that she has an inner voice allows her to recognize that she is never alone, and that helps comfort her feeling of loneliness.
Some friends who have read my blog have told me that they want to help me find my authentic self, the one that is deeply buried inside of me, under all the muck of the judgements and criticism I received in my youth. In their efforts to help me, they are giving me many compliments. I am not going to kid you, it feels great to hear people say nice things about me to my face, but the actuality is that while I am going to hear these words, I am not going to really feel them with my heart, until I've had those conversations with my inner self around why I have trouble believing it when people say nice things about me.
She says "Even during the worst of suffering, that calm, compassionate, affectionate and infinitely wise voice (who is maybe me, or maybe not exactly me) is always available for a conversation on paper at any time of day or night."
If she really clears her mind and starts to meditate on her wise self, she usually comes up with an answer that will take her in the direction that she needs to find a solution to her happiness. "In response, somewhere from within me, rises a now familiar presence, offering me all the certainties I have always wished another person would say to me when I was troubled." And knowing that she has an inner voice allows her to recognize that she is never alone, and that helps comfort her feeling of loneliness.
Some friends who have read my blog have told me that they want to help me find my authentic self, the one that is deeply buried inside of me, under all the muck of the judgements and criticism I received in my youth. In their efforts to help me, they are giving me many compliments. I am not going to kid you, it feels great to hear people say nice things about me to my face, but the actuality is that while I am going to hear these words, I am not going to really feel them with my heart, until I've had those conversations with my inner self around why I have trouble believing it when people say nice things about me.
Tuesday, April 7, 2009
Dr. House?
Hugh Laurie is one of my favorite actors, and the character that he plays on the TV series "House" is one of my favorite TV characters of all time. What I admire about Dr. House is his ability to not care what anybody else thinks about him (and I love people who can honestly do that). In addition, I love the conflict between his apparent dislike of human beings and his passion to save them.
So you can imagine my surprise and my happiness (well, happiness in a "misery loves company" kind of way) when I found out that Hugh Laurie suffers from depression.
For those of you who didn't read "Inside The (Odd) Mind Of Hugh Laurie" by Jeanne Wolf, in Parade Magazine, April 5, 2009. This is what was written about Hugh Laurie's depression:
***********
"He has, however, spoken frankly about his battle with depression, for which he sought help in 1996. 'I wish I'd kept my mouth shut about that.' Laurie says, 'That's an example of me throwing open the doors and trusting - and then coming downstairs and finding the TV is gone. Now an undue weight has been given to this aspect of my life.'
'I don't like to be thought of as this guy who has nothing else to talk about except how miserable my lot was,' Laurie continues, 'And of course people respond to that in peculiar ways: 'He's incredibly fortunate and blessed. What the hell does he have to moan about?' I remember watching Mel Gibson on some show once, and he was being asked about his belief in the afterlife. Gibson said, 'Well, I can't believe this is all there is' and I thought, 'Wait a minute. You're Mel Gibson. You have millions of dollars. You're a great-looking chap with every conceivable blessing that could be bestowed upon a man and that's not good enough? So you can see why I'm hesitant to talk about any trivial pain I have. I find myself going 'Oh, for God's sake, Hugh, pull yourself together.'
'On the other hand' Laurie adds, I do know depression is a disease. It's a matter of pride fot the people who work on House that we have aligned ourselves with the National Alliance on Mental Illness. We've brought some attention to the cause. Funny enough, it is the last great taboo - something people still don't want to talk about.'
All this awareness hasn't chased away Laurie's self-deprecating attitude.
'I suppose I'm trying to exorcise something by anticipating disaster,' he says.'Perhaps I am encouraging the gods to go easy on me, because I have already done it to myself. So they don't need to add or put their boot in. I've tasted the worst before it's happened.'"
*******************
One of my major concerns about depression is that it doesn't matter how good someone's life is on the outside, if that person is hurting on the inside then what's going on in the outside is not going to change anything. If someone has cancer and everything is going well otherwise, no one is going to say "Pull yourself together with the cancer, everything is going well for you otherwise." So why do people do that with depression, when depression is as much of a disease as cancer? It's because people don't see depression as a disease. They see it as a mood or an emotion that people have control over changing "if only they chose to."
Afterthoughts:
In last night's episode of "House" one of the main characters committed suicide. I believe that the ones who are responsible for the TV series will raise awareness to mental illness in a respectable way through the show. Kudos to House for doing this.
Here is the link to buy a t-shirt:
http://www.nami.org/Template.cfm?Section=House_T-Shirt_Partnership&Template=/ContentManagement/ContentDisplay.cfm&ContentID=72464&lstid=944
So you can imagine my surprise and my happiness (well, happiness in a "misery loves company" kind of way) when I found out that Hugh Laurie suffers from depression.
For those of you who didn't read "Inside The (Odd) Mind Of Hugh Laurie" by Jeanne Wolf, in Parade Magazine, April 5, 2009. This is what was written about Hugh Laurie's depression:
***********
"He has, however, spoken frankly about his battle with depression, for which he sought help in 1996. 'I wish I'd kept my mouth shut about that.' Laurie says, 'That's an example of me throwing open the doors and trusting - and then coming downstairs and finding the TV is gone. Now an undue weight has been given to this aspect of my life.'
'I don't like to be thought of as this guy who has nothing else to talk about except how miserable my lot was,' Laurie continues, 'And of course people respond to that in peculiar ways: 'He's incredibly fortunate and blessed. What the hell does he have to moan about?' I remember watching Mel Gibson on some show once, and he was being asked about his belief in the afterlife. Gibson said, 'Well, I can't believe this is all there is' and I thought, 'Wait a minute. You're Mel Gibson. You have millions of dollars. You're a great-looking chap with every conceivable blessing that could be bestowed upon a man and that's not good enough? So you can see why I'm hesitant to talk about any trivial pain I have. I find myself going 'Oh, for God's sake, Hugh, pull yourself together.'
'On the other hand' Laurie adds, I do know depression is a disease. It's a matter of pride fot the people who work on House that we have aligned ourselves with the National Alliance on Mental Illness. We've brought some attention to the cause. Funny enough, it is the last great taboo - something people still don't want to talk about.'
All this awareness hasn't chased away Laurie's self-deprecating attitude.
'I suppose I'm trying to exorcise something by anticipating disaster,' he says.'Perhaps I am encouraging the gods to go easy on me, because I have already done it to myself. So they don't need to add or put their boot in. I've tasted the worst before it's happened.'"
*******************
One of my major concerns about depression is that it doesn't matter how good someone's life is on the outside, if that person is hurting on the inside then what's going on in the outside is not going to change anything. If someone has cancer and everything is going well otherwise, no one is going to say "Pull yourself together with the cancer, everything is going well for you otherwise." So why do people do that with depression, when depression is as much of a disease as cancer? It's because people don't see depression as a disease. They see it as a mood or an emotion that people have control over changing "if only they chose to."
Afterthoughts:
In last night's episode of "House" one of the main characters committed suicide. I believe that the ones who are responsible for the TV series will raise awareness to mental illness in a respectable way through the show. Kudos to House for doing this.
Here is the link to buy a t-shirt:
http://www.nami.org/Template.cfm?Section=House_T-Shirt_Partnership&Template=/ContentManagement/ContentDisplay.cfm&ContentID=72464&lstid=944
Friday, April 3, 2009
Eat Pray Love
As I mentioned earlier, I've come to realize in the past five weeks since my diagnosis that I am fighting a bigger battle with my self-esteem and my subsequent depression than I am with my cancer. In order to help me find my inner happiness, I am reading "Eat Pray Love," by Elizabeth Gilbert.
I will be continuing to blog about this book for a while as I find that it is helping me to look into my own deep core and helping me to separate what is really real from what was imposed on me through repeated judgements and criticisms that I received in my earlier life.
This installment discusses a quote from a medicine man named Ketut Liyer who Elizabeth Gilbert met in Indonesia. He said to her:
"'To find the balance you want,' Ketut spoke through his translator, 'this is what you must become. You must keep your feet grounded so firmly on the earth that it's like you have four legs, instead of two. That way, you can stay in the world. But you must stop looking at the world through your head. You must look through your heart instead, that way you will know God.'"
Right after I read that portion of the book, I fell asleep and I found myself dreaming about a friend who I used to have a big crush on and who was not so nice to me. I dreamt that he and his family were convicted for some horrible crime and the media was just starting to find out about it. I went to visit them in their home which was surrounded by reporters and TV cameras, and right after I arrived in their kitchen, my friend announced that he was going to bed, so I talked to his father for most of my visit. Just before I left, I went to say goodbye to my friend and I leaned over to kiss him on the lips. Then I kissed him again and he said "Can you stop that? I am trying to sleep." And when I woke up I realized that it will be harder than I thought to look at some situations with my heart.
I will be continuing to blog about this book for a while as I find that it is helping me to look into my own deep core and helping me to separate what is really real from what was imposed on me through repeated judgements and criticisms that I received in my earlier life.
This installment discusses a quote from a medicine man named Ketut Liyer who Elizabeth Gilbert met in Indonesia. He said to her:
"'To find the balance you want,' Ketut spoke through his translator, 'this is what you must become. You must keep your feet grounded so firmly on the earth that it's like you have four legs, instead of two. That way, you can stay in the world. But you must stop looking at the world through your head. You must look through your heart instead, that way you will know God.'"
Right after I read that portion of the book, I fell asleep and I found myself dreaming about a friend who I used to have a big crush on and who was not so nice to me. I dreamt that he and his family were convicted for some horrible crime and the media was just starting to find out about it. I went to visit them in their home which was surrounded by reporters and TV cameras, and right after I arrived in their kitchen, my friend announced that he was going to bed, so I talked to his father for most of my visit. Just before I left, I went to say goodbye to my friend and I leaned over to kiss him on the lips. Then I kissed him again and he said "Can you stop that? I am trying to sleep." And when I woke up I realized that it will be harder than I thought to look at some situations with my heart.
Wednesday, April 1, 2009
Many selves
In an earlier post, the one about my inspiration for writing this blog, I talked about searching deep inside myself for the person I truly am and seeking the strength of that aspect of my person to help me through my cancer battle. Francie confirmed this belief in her comment when she said that I need to draw on that same strength when facing any battle, not just my cancer one. At the time, her words scared me because I knew that while I had an army of people to support me through the cancer battle, I only had myself to support me through the depression one.
Since that post I have been doing a lot of thinking about how I can support myself in my effort to find my strong self, and in my thinking I have discovered that there are four different selves dwelling inside of me. I have a mature self that I portray to the outside world. I have a vulnerable self that is insecure and afraid. I have a critical self that is negative and judgemental (and prays on the vulnerable self) and I have my authentic self, which is buried under the muck and toxicity created by the vulnerable and critical selves.
My authentic self is grounded and strong. This is the self that will help me fight my battles. It seems that for me to be happy, my authentic self has to assure my vulnerable self that it will be supported and protected always. It all sounds very simple, but the hard part is getting the vulnerable part of me to trust the authentic part of me, really with all my heart and not simply with words. That's where I am stuck. But, I think that having that mental model provides a decent map for finding the authentic part of me and creating a visual of where it is in relation to my other selves. There will be more to come on this topic as my thinking progresses.
Since that post I have been doing a lot of thinking about how I can support myself in my effort to find my strong self, and in my thinking I have discovered that there are four different selves dwelling inside of me. I have a mature self that I portray to the outside world. I have a vulnerable self that is insecure and afraid. I have a critical self that is negative and judgemental (and prays on the vulnerable self) and I have my authentic self, which is buried under the muck and toxicity created by the vulnerable and critical selves.
My authentic self is grounded and strong. This is the self that will help me fight my battles. It seems that for me to be happy, my authentic self has to assure my vulnerable self that it will be supported and protected always. It all sounds very simple, but the hard part is getting the vulnerable part of me to trust the authentic part of me, really with all my heart and not simply with words. That's where I am stuck. But, I think that having that mental model provides a decent map for finding the authentic part of me and creating a visual of where it is in relation to my other selves. There will be more to come on this topic as my thinking progresses.
Tuesday, March 31, 2009
Mapping
This morning I was mapped for radiation. I won't bore you with details except to give a few highlights and thoughts.
While I was in the waiting room in my jonny, another woman in a jonny walked into the waiting room and sat down across from me. I noticed how young and beautiful and thin she was and we exchanged knowing smiles with each other. I imagined her to look like my friend, Colleen, who I met through an online support group but never met face-to-face. I wanted to chat with this woman because it was my first time there and it would have been nice to have a bit of support from a "kindred spirit" but my inner critic magically appeared as it always does when I want to do something that involves courage and it said to me "Don't even bother talking to her. She's too pretty to talk to you." Listening to my critic, I just looked at her and smiled. But then I heard her say something and I walked over to where she was sitting because I couldn't hear her. She started talking about the weather and how we were finally having a sunny day. I answered in kind and then the technician came out to get me. As I followed the technician down to the hall, I was proud of myself for ignoring the voice of my inner critic and listening instead to the voice of the angel sent to me for a brief moment to calm my nerves.
The technician brought me into a room, which for lack of a better term I will call a "mapping room." The technician motioned me over to a board-like table that was sitting in front of a scary-looking machine. I got on the table and the technician made me put my arms up over my head into two holders. Immediately I felt as though I was in one of those medieval racks, but I was surprisingly comfortable to be able to stretch out with a pillow under my knees for added comfort. When I looked up at the ceiling I saw the most beautiful panoramic photograph of a tropical island, and I heard the faint sound from the 40s of what I like to call "crooner music." With this forced serenity and all the attention I was receiving from the technician and the radiation oncologist I thought how easy it would be to get used to this routine.
While I was lying on the table I was thinking about all kinds of things but for a brief moment I was thinking about how tattoos were not legal just ten years ago in Massachusetts because of potential health risks, and I was thinking about the cancer risks associated with tanning parlors. Then I thought about the irony of the cancer-fighting treatment that I was preparing to receive that included both permanent markings on my skin and radiation.
I lay on the table for close to an hour, and what I went through during that time is really not worth mentioning except that it involved a lot of measuring, moving in and out of the scary-looking machine which turned out not to be so scary, and waiting for the technician to do whatever she had to do to make the appointment complete.
When I got up to leave, the technician handed me a card for my first appointment. I asked her whether she would be giving me my radiation treatments and she said with perfect self-esteem "It will either be me, or it will be Melissa. She's wonderful too." Ah to have faith in oneself.
While I was in the waiting room in my jonny, another woman in a jonny walked into the waiting room and sat down across from me. I noticed how young and beautiful and thin she was and we exchanged knowing smiles with each other. I imagined her to look like my friend, Colleen, who I met through an online support group but never met face-to-face. I wanted to chat with this woman because it was my first time there and it would have been nice to have a bit of support from a "kindred spirit" but my inner critic magically appeared as it always does when I want to do something that involves courage and it said to me "Don't even bother talking to her. She's too pretty to talk to you." Listening to my critic, I just looked at her and smiled. But then I heard her say something and I walked over to where she was sitting because I couldn't hear her. She started talking about the weather and how we were finally having a sunny day. I answered in kind and then the technician came out to get me. As I followed the technician down to the hall, I was proud of myself for ignoring the voice of my inner critic and listening instead to the voice of the angel sent to me for a brief moment to calm my nerves.
The technician brought me into a room, which for lack of a better term I will call a "mapping room." The technician motioned me over to a board-like table that was sitting in front of a scary-looking machine. I got on the table and the technician made me put my arms up over my head into two holders. Immediately I felt as though I was in one of those medieval racks, but I was surprisingly comfortable to be able to stretch out with a pillow under my knees for added comfort. When I looked up at the ceiling I saw the most beautiful panoramic photograph of a tropical island, and I heard the faint sound from the 40s of what I like to call "crooner music." With this forced serenity and all the attention I was receiving from the technician and the radiation oncologist I thought how easy it would be to get used to this routine.
While I was lying on the table I was thinking about all kinds of things but for a brief moment I was thinking about how tattoos were not legal just ten years ago in Massachusetts because of potential health risks, and I was thinking about the cancer risks associated with tanning parlors. Then I thought about the irony of the cancer-fighting treatment that I was preparing to receive that included both permanent markings on my skin and radiation.
I lay on the table for close to an hour, and what I went through during that time is really not worth mentioning except that it involved a lot of measuring, moving in and out of the scary-looking machine which turned out not to be so scary, and waiting for the technician to do whatever she had to do to make the appointment complete.
When I got up to leave, the technician handed me a card for my first appointment. I asked her whether she would be giving me my radiation treatments and she said with perfect self-esteem "It will either be me, or it will be Melissa. She's wonderful too." Ah to have faith in oneself.
Wednesday, March 25, 2009
Sick and tired
I feel as though my life has slowly returned to its pre-diagnosis state. It started over the course of last week when my son and husband periodically complained about how I don't give them enough money each week. It progressed over the weekend to "Mom, can I borrow your car? Mine is out of gas." And since then it evolved to "Thanks for the $20 for gas to get me back to school." "You didn't give Aaron his lunch money today so he couldn't eat, but I took him out for hot dogs after school." "Can I have $100 for groceries?" "Can I have my lunch money?" "Are you doing more grocery shopping, I've already spent the $100?" "Lunch money, please?" "I haven't paid my therapist in four weeks. I need $80." "I need my lunch money." "Can you pay the fee for me to go to my high school reunion?" "Oh mom, can I have my lunch money?"
And then there were the non-money issues - arranging around one of my surgeries to have my co-workers sign a birthday card for another co-worker, arranging around said surgery to plan a birthday lunch for that co-worker, dealing with a friend who sent me a text at work that read "How depressed do you need to be before you check yourself into a hospital?" and trying to coordinate a crafts table to an uncooperative crew.
Behind my seemingly outward composure I just want to throw up my hands and scream "I'M DEALING WITH CANCER HERE!!" I'm thinking of the man who worked for my father and sought my father's advice in his hospital room three weeks before he died. I am wondering how that man fared without my father.
I've been told that I am a caregiver, but what my "givees" don't understand is that sometimes the caregiver needs caring too.
On the other end of the spectrum, one of my bosses gave me a post-operative care package just before my second surgery and in the bag there was a card that read in part (and I paraphrase) "I know that you find it hard to ask for help, so when I sense that you need it I am going to reach out." This woman knows exactly what I need. In fact, that's all I've ever wanted, feeling like somebody, just one person, is looking out for me. Why have people stopped looking out for one another?
And then there were the non-money issues - arranging around one of my surgeries to have my co-workers sign a birthday card for another co-worker, arranging around said surgery to plan a birthday lunch for that co-worker, dealing with a friend who sent me a text at work that read "How depressed do you need to be before you check yourself into a hospital?" and trying to coordinate a crafts table to an uncooperative crew.
Behind my seemingly outward composure I just want to throw up my hands and scream "I'M DEALING WITH CANCER HERE!!" I'm thinking of the man who worked for my father and sought my father's advice in his hospital room three weeks before he died. I am wondering how that man fared without my father.
I've been told that I am a caregiver, but what my "givees" don't understand is that sometimes the caregiver needs caring too.
On the other end of the spectrum, one of my bosses gave me a post-operative care package just before my second surgery and in the bag there was a card that read in part (and I paraphrase) "I know that you find it hard to ask for help, so when I sense that you need it I am going to reach out." This woman knows exactly what I need. In fact, that's all I've ever wanted, feeling like somebody, just one person, is looking out for me. Why have people stopped looking out for one another?
Tuesday, March 24, 2009
Artwork
I have been very unhappy with my artwork lately. I think that a lot of it has to do with having been rejected from the Post Road Art Center art show. It definitely contributed to my feeling not good enough. But I am wondering if some of it has to do with my diagnosis.
Let me interject first by writing that I define myself by my artwork. It is the easiest and fullest way for me to express my voice. A very big part of me feels as though my artwork is the best thing that I do and has helped me cope when I've felt as though I haven't measured up to others. It's the one talent or niche that I have that has set me apart from my other, more judgemental, family members. Many people from my past remember me for my artwork. So when someone rejects my artwork, it goes deeper than just simply "getting back on my horse and riding again." I feel as though the person has rejected me - what is the deepest part of me, what I hope to contribute as part of my life's work, and what I hope to leave behind when I am gone.
Getting back to the diagnosis piece, my mind has been protecting me with denial so it's very hard for me to seek out some clarity on how I really feel about my diagnosis, but I think there is a vulnerability inside of me that is making me more sensitive to rejection and more motivated to make more sustainable contributions now that my productive time may be more limited.
I have always known in the past that the one quality that keeps me from producing great art is my lack of patience. I've never had the patience to go one step further. I've always wanted to finish my pieces fast and then show everyone and get positive approval, but now I just don't have the energy. In the protective denial of my mind, I am not acknowledging the physical impact of having had two surgeries in the past month. I am kidding myself in thinking that I am totally back to where I was pre-surgery. Of course, I don't have the energy and the patience to produce right now. I am NOT one-hundred percent back to my regular health. My worry is whether I ever will be. My hope is whether the diagnosis will help me to become more patient.
Let me interject first by writing that I define myself by my artwork. It is the easiest and fullest way for me to express my voice. A very big part of me feels as though my artwork is the best thing that I do and has helped me cope when I've felt as though I haven't measured up to others. It's the one talent or niche that I have that has set me apart from my other, more judgemental, family members. Many people from my past remember me for my artwork. So when someone rejects my artwork, it goes deeper than just simply "getting back on my horse and riding again." I feel as though the person has rejected me - what is the deepest part of me, what I hope to contribute as part of my life's work, and what I hope to leave behind when I am gone.
Getting back to the diagnosis piece, my mind has been protecting me with denial so it's very hard for me to seek out some clarity on how I really feel about my diagnosis, but I think there is a vulnerability inside of me that is making me more sensitive to rejection and more motivated to make more sustainable contributions now that my productive time may be more limited.
I have always known in the past that the one quality that keeps me from producing great art is my lack of patience. I've never had the patience to go one step further. I've always wanted to finish my pieces fast and then show everyone and get positive approval, but now I just don't have the energy. In the protective denial of my mind, I am not acknowledging the physical impact of having had two surgeries in the past month. I am kidding myself in thinking that I am totally back to where I was pre-surgery. Of course, I don't have the energy and the patience to produce right now. I am NOT one-hundred percent back to my regular health. My worry is whether I ever will be. My hope is whether the diagnosis will help me to become more patient.
Monday, March 23, 2009
Medical history
Depression History:
Cancer History:
- Have had OCD since 1964
- In talk therapy off and on since 1973, but first recognized depression in 1969
- On anti-depressants since 1995
Cancer History:
- Diagnosed on February 25, 2009 with an Invasive Ductal Carcinoma (Stage 1)
- Had surgery on March 10, 2009 to remove margins around cancer site and lymph nodes, and all came back clean
- Currently weighing treatment options
The only symptoms I have now are pain under my right armpit (where the lymph nodes were removed) and a killer stomachache, which I've had every day for about one week now. I think it's nerves.
Thursday, March 19, 2009
SARK save me!
I think that SARK (Susan Ariel Rainbow Kennedy) is going to get me through my whole ordeal. When I say "ordeal" I am not referring to the cancer treatment, I am referring to the depression, although I have been documenting some of my cancer experience in SARK's style. It seems that the only thing I really enjoy doing when I am alone is drawing and my style is very similar to SARK's in that I write down inspirational quotes that mean a lot to me, and I surround them with vibrant colors. It's validating for me to see someone with a similar style being so widely received by the public.
For those not familiar with SARK, here is a link to her web site:
http://www.planetsark.com/
For those not familiar with SARK, here is a link to her web site:
http://www.planetsark.com/
Wednesday, March 18, 2009
Good news?
On Monday morning I received the news that the results of my pathology report were negative. Both the lymph node and margins that were removed the week before were cancer-free. Ron was ecstatic. He said that now he could finally exhale. I, on the other hand, was more than a little sad. Since my diagnosis on February 25th, people have been paying attention to me, buying me small gifts, putting notes on my keyboard, sending me mail, offering to get together with me, taking me seriously, commenting on my strength and perseverence, giving me a sense of community, and looking out for me. Now that I am cancer-free I get to go back to my isolated life and be the nobody I was before I got sick, and it makes me sad.
Ron really understands my sadness and made me feel better when he said "Just because someone isn't drunk doesn't mean that person is not an alcoholic." He was right. Being cancer-free gets me off the hook for the time being but that one little lump has secured me a lifetime membership in the "club." It's kind of like when I was 12 and I was talking to that girl at tennis camp who told me that her father was Neil Diamond's manager and he wanted to get into a performer's union, but in order to do that he had to be a performer. So, at the end of "Cracklin' Rosie" he crashed a set of cymbals together once and that got him into the union.
I know that my thoughts and emotions seem twisted to the "normal" person but that is part of my depression, to grasp at whatever I can, whatever works to make me feel better.
Afterthoughts:
Ron and David were happy with the news of my pathology report. Before I went to the doctor this morning, Aaron was sad and displayed emotion. I was happy that he got it out. I hope he is happy when Ron tells him the good news when he gets home from school. It makes me feel loved that this news makes my family happy.
Ron really understands my sadness and made me feel better when he said "Just because someone isn't drunk doesn't mean that person is not an alcoholic." He was right. Being cancer-free gets me off the hook for the time being but that one little lump has secured me a lifetime membership in the "club." It's kind of like when I was 12 and I was talking to that girl at tennis camp who told me that her father was Neil Diamond's manager and he wanted to get into a performer's union, but in order to do that he had to be a performer. So, at the end of "Cracklin' Rosie" he crashed a set of cymbals together once and that got him into the union.
I know that my thoughts and emotions seem twisted to the "normal" person but that is part of my depression, to grasp at whatever I can, whatever works to make me feel better.
Afterthoughts:
Ron and David were happy with the news of my pathology report. Before I went to the doctor this morning, Aaron was sad and displayed emotion. I was happy that he got it out. I hope he is happy when Ron tells him the good news when he gets home from school. It makes me feel loved that this news makes my family happy.
Tuesday, March 17, 2009
Blog inspiration
The day before I received my diagnosis, I confessed to my therapist that a large part of me wanted to be told that I have cancer. The two of us spent the remainder of our session discussing the whys of that. But I also sensed that even with her acceptance and gentleness around my confession she was searching for a similar confession (and maybe reassurance) that a larger part of me wanted to be well.
When someone shares the news that they've just been diagnosed with cancer, the recipient is left feeling awkward, searching for the right words to say, and it's usually a platititude - "I will send you positive thoughts," "I hope you are getting better every day," and "I will keep you in my prayers." I'm pretty sure that no one entertains the possibility that someone may be somewhat pleased with a cancer diagnosis, and that's why the person with the illness upon breaking the news will probably not hear "how do you feel about that?" or "wow, you lucked out, no more facing this uncertain economy."
So why did I want to receive the cancer diagnosis? Initially, I thought that the possbility of death would bring relief from a life plagued by depression, in a world where I receive daily reminders that I am not good enough and I believe that I am merely tolerated by the people in my life. I feel very lonely most of the time. I confess that I was looking forward to people acting nicer to me, treating me more seriously, and reaching out to me. But after I've come to experience all that and more in the aftermath of sharing my news, it appears to be much more than that.
I view the battle that I will be facing as an opportunity to search deep inside myself for the person I truly am and when I find that person I want to grab on as tightly as I can and pull that self out from the emotional muck and misconceptions that shaped my life and plagued me for so long. And that is because I need the true person who dwells hidden inside of me to stand with me for strength, for love, and for the courage to be who I am without worrying what anybody else thinks.
And when I emerge on the other side of this battle I hope that I will find the world a happier place to live, because if I can make myself a true lifelong friend I know I will never be alone, and that may ease the depression too.
Afterthoughts:
Funny, but as debilitating as cancer can be I am not sure that it can feel as bad as the cold, painful, and vulnerable suffering associated with depression. Cancer you face with a ton of concerned people who feel that you did not bring this horrible, unfair killer on your self, and as a result they don't want you to face your battle alone. Depression, on the other hand, while every bit as horrible and unfair a killer as cancer, is not treated with the same army of support as cancer, and often is not even deemed an illness, but more of a mood that people bring on themselves and can just "snap out of" if only they set their minds to it.
So dare I say that I wished for my diagnosis as a front to have people care for me, take my depression (and suffering) more seriously, have a supportive community, and maybe in the process, find comfort with myself and my world? I'm still exploring as my begin my journey.
When someone shares the news that they've just been diagnosed with cancer, the recipient is left feeling awkward, searching for the right words to say, and it's usually a platititude - "I will send you positive thoughts," "I hope you are getting better every day," and "I will keep you in my prayers." I'm pretty sure that no one entertains the possibility that someone may be somewhat pleased with a cancer diagnosis, and that's why the person with the illness upon breaking the news will probably not hear "how do you feel about that?" or "wow, you lucked out, no more facing this uncertain economy."
So why did I want to receive the cancer diagnosis? Initially, I thought that the possbility of death would bring relief from a life plagued by depression, in a world where I receive daily reminders that I am not good enough and I believe that I am merely tolerated by the people in my life. I feel very lonely most of the time. I confess that I was looking forward to people acting nicer to me, treating me more seriously, and reaching out to me. But after I've come to experience all that and more in the aftermath of sharing my news, it appears to be much more than that.
I view the battle that I will be facing as an opportunity to search deep inside myself for the person I truly am and when I find that person I want to grab on as tightly as I can and pull that self out from the emotional muck and misconceptions that shaped my life and plagued me for so long. And that is because I need the true person who dwells hidden inside of me to stand with me for strength, for love, and for the courage to be who I am without worrying what anybody else thinks.
And when I emerge on the other side of this battle I hope that I will find the world a happier place to live, because if I can make myself a true lifelong friend I know I will never be alone, and that may ease the depression too.
Afterthoughts:
Funny, but as debilitating as cancer can be I am not sure that it can feel as bad as the cold, painful, and vulnerable suffering associated with depression. Cancer you face with a ton of concerned people who feel that you did not bring this horrible, unfair killer on your self, and as a result they don't want you to face your battle alone. Depression, on the other hand, while every bit as horrible and unfair a killer as cancer, is not treated with the same army of support as cancer, and often is not even deemed an illness, but more of a mood that people bring on themselves and can just "snap out of" if only they set their minds to it.
So dare I say that I wished for my diagnosis as a front to have people care for me, take my depression (and suffering) more seriously, have a supportive community, and maybe in the process, find comfort with myself and my world? I'm still exploring as my begin my journey.
Monday, March 16, 2009
Welcome!
Hi!
I've started writing this blog in an effort to understand unconventional thoughts I've been having about my recent cancer diagnosis. I believe that my thoughts might be related to depression and it is at this point that I have chosen to begin my exploration.
My story begins on February 2nd, 2009 when I had a routine mammogram. The next day I was called back for more views and an ultrasound. At that appointment I was referred to a surgeon who suggested that the suspicious-looking solid mass on my right breast be removed. On February 19th I had a surgical biopsy and on February 25th I received my cancer diagnosis. While I was waiting for the results to return from the pathologist I found myself hoping that the surgeon would tell me that the results were positive.
My thoughts seemed more than a little strange to me and so I decided to create a blog and explore the reasons why I would want to have cancer. I welcome discussion on this topic, and maybe through this medium we can discover together whether these thoughts are more common than people would care to admit.
Thank you and I hope you enjoy reading my blog entries.
I've started writing this blog in an effort to understand unconventional thoughts I've been having about my recent cancer diagnosis. I believe that my thoughts might be related to depression and it is at this point that I have chosen to begin my exploration.
My story begins on February 2nd, 2009 when I had a routine mammogram. The next day I was called back for more views and an ultrasound. At that appointment I was referred to a surgeon who suggested that the suspicious-looking solid mass on my right breast be removed. On February 19th I had a surgical biopsy and on February 25th I received my cancer diagnosis. While I was waiting for the results to return from the pathologist I found myself hoping that the surgeon would tell me that the results were positive.
My thoughts seemed more than a little strange to me and so I decided to create a blog and explore the reasons why I would want to have cancer. I welcome discussion on this topic, and maybe through this medium we can discover together whether these thoughts are more common than people would care to admit.
Thank you and I hope you enjoy reading my blog entries.
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