Monday, October 24, 2016

Present Day

Once in a while, it's a good idea to take a step back and remember how far you've come.

We are settled into our hectic but loving life as a family of 4, toddler in tow. I continue to work part time while the baby goes to daycare and my mom. Judah is now 9 and almost out of elementary school. The past year and a half is kind of a blur, and while the day to day responsibilities and routines can be rewarding, they can also swallow you up. In the current world (election) mood, tension is contagious. All of social media is like a giant pulsing pit of anxiety that I need to escape.

I try to retreat to my corner with my small and large munchkins, and just focus on being present, but it can be a challenge.
smallest munchkin

soccer stars

biggest munchkin

October 24 happens to be the anniversary of the very first Light the Night walk I did to support LLS. I'm looking forward to being able to participate again in 2017 (no special reason other than scheduling and parenting responsibilities have presented conflicts for the past few years), because it's still hard to admit, but we are all so vulnerable and need to know we have community to lean on in time of need. I don't want to need it ever again, but I know it is my duty to be that community for others.

It's been 6 years since treatment ended, but I haven't been able to shake the tempting-fate feeling that ebbs and flows and makes me never want to use words like "cured" or "that's all in the past". While logically, I understand that saying such things would have zero bearing on my cells going haywire, I am still not taking any chances.

Tonight, I was organizing some files and bookmarks on my laptop (truth: so Judah can independently access his Hebrew homework website) when the blog bookmark called out to me. I go so long between posts that I doubt anyone reads them anymore. But I couldn't forget reading others' stories into the wee hours of the steroid-induced insomniac mornings and wondering why they stopped writing. Of course, I vowed to never stop writing, lest someone else wonder.