One Year Ago
A couple of years ago, I started carrying a notebook with me everywhere I went. I mean everywhere - doctor's appointments, grocery stores, to the kitchen for every meal, next to my computer, next to my bed at night. In my purse or in my hand in between. If I could have a holster made for it, I would. It started out as a necessity - all of the medicine made me forgetful, so I'd make lists. And lists and lists...I wrote down everything, there for a while, because I could remember anything without it!
Then it was a way of keeping myself sane, writing down thoughts and feelings to get them out of my head, so they'd stop spinning around in there and driving me nuts. I suppose that's sort of a necessity, too. Then it just became a habit to have it with me, and I'd get sort of lost without it. I'd panic when I couldn't find it, tearing the house apart, only to discover that I had just left it in my bag by the front door!
I write something in it every day to keep track of things: ups and downs, highs and lows. I tell people this all the time - write something in a journal every day, to keep a record of where you're at, whether battling cancer, or just life in general. I may not feeling like writing an elaborate account of each day, but I make myself write a sentence or two in my notebook every night before I turn out the light. My bedtime ritual has turned thoughts into stories and sentences into a record of events in my personal journey.
As I finished my journal entry last night, I realized I was at the last page. I had no idea when I'd started, so I flipped to the front, and whoa: November 3, 2010. A year's worth of journaling in one book, how cool is that? What was I doing a year ago, anyway?
I started reading and ah, yes, the crying. Lots of crying. I was pre-bankruptcy and the phone was ringing off the hook with angry creditors. Boyfriend and I still had no income or work and bills needed to be paid. How much longer would our landlord put up with us? Not to mention I still had a good sized brain-tumor. I had scribbled on one of the pages, "When was all this positive thinking going to kick in and turn things around?"
Then December came and things started to break loose. My December 2nd MRI was a pretty sweet Christmas gift. A few weeks later we finally got the web contract we'd been vying for for over a year. We caught up on our rent. We paid our bills. Then Christmas and the silly stresses that tend to go with it. I was happy and grateful that I could afford gifts and cards for those I loved, but didn't realize I wasn't up for the full-time "job" that the holidays really are and I was still exhausted two weeks a month with chemo! Hmmm... something to do better this year...
I kept going, so many ideas, stories, and lessons I may not have remembered without my little spiral-bound companion and trustworthy mechanical pencil!
When Boyfriend came to bed, I was still riveted. "This is the best book I've ever read!"
"What is it?"
He smiled, "It's a good story, isn't it?"
I'd better keep writing to see how it ends.