And with cancer comes...

One thing that this diagnosis has taught me is how limited our control is over life's momentum. Spontaneity has never been much of a thing for me. I like to plan things. I thrive on routine and I bask in an orderly and well arranged nest. I am always on time. I am not a fan of clutter. But, I am learning to operate under a new system of control. I am learning as I go what works for my body during treatment, how much I need to rest, how much I need to meditate, how much social interaction I need, how much I can handle and how far I can walk or ride my stationary excercise bike before I am winded and need to take a break. I am learning my body's new boundaries, and in learning them I am learning to accept and love it as it is. I have a body in transition. I literally live in a physical body of reconstruction. We all do. My transition is just more tactile than some. And it wasn't all voluntary. A large part of my personal spiritual practice is maintaining a strong mind/body connection. When I have felt the least alive is when I have suffered a drift of connection to my body. I can't tell you how many times I have gone to see my therapist in utter mental disarray, convinced I should be immediately medicated, to be gently reminded to sit and breathe, ask myself where in my body the pain or confusion is felt, and go there, breathe into it...sit in it...and possibly move with it. As a child I learned to dance and losing myself to the rhythm and the counts and the music and the repetition of rehearsal was therapy for me. Closing my eyes and chanting in a room of yogis is therapy for me too. So a common theme in my reckoning with breast cancer is working to overcome the challenges of a rapidly changing, unpredictable body, a body that I felt had somehow misled me, or turned against me. I thought I was on such intimate terms...but... I have to make a daily practice of trying to connect spiritually to a higher healing power, trying to connect with the depth of healing powers in the well of my deepest self, when at times, especially in the beginning of diagnosis, I couldn't look at myself in the mirror. I couldn't look myself in the eye. I couldn't take my shirt off in front of my wife. I couldn't fix my hair. I struggled for a grasp of how connection to this body could be possible at the same time that I was learning at a rapid rate what was about to transpire for me physically. I wrestled with avoidance but avoiding conflict of any kind is not conducive to my well being. So I started with confrontation. I needed to have a log of what was happening to me. If I log the pain, the suffering, breathe and move through it, like grinding a sore tooth until I can taste the blood, I will eventually find sense in the path that I chose. Eventually. Kayla is helping me log the physical transformation through photography. The images allow me to process what is happening in a new level. There have been moments of paralysis, moments of searing heartbreak. Then there are those sweet moments of peaceful surrender, when the stillness of the present pillows me with the realization that I am ALIVE, and I am finding an ease of grace through each phase of my physical appearance, navigating my way through this trial that tolls me from the inside out. There were many things that I have feared, many things that I desperately wanted to change, or feared I could never confront, that I am beginning to move through now. The change is inevitable. The ability to dig into and connect to the inevitability of it became more profound and more powerful under the knife of cancer.

Woman Centric Life

The greatest universally understood goal in trying to achieve conception when consciously baby planning is to relax and eliminate stress. So silly because the conscious planning in itself is anxiety fructifying. That said I believe that I have been residing in a pretty awesome place since shortly after my last blog entry. The entry itself brought support via social media that was quite sweet and appreciated. Two women in particular that I hardly knew reached out and resulted in my inspiration to start a private lesbian baby planning support group on Facebook! The three of us planning to carry, along with our wives can now swap stories, share blogs, books, and offer inspiration and support. It has been a really cool thing thus far, and I doubt I would have gotten the idea if I hadn't been faced with the news of the dreaded high FSH levels. Its refreshing to find other couples with similar goals and lifestyles, also lesbians, to share in the journey of becoming parents, the not so old fashioned and sometimes incredibly overwhelming and confusing way. Then there are my precious jewels, the ladies with which we have developed close relationships with over the last few years, coming together for an uplifting impromptu dinner party last week. It was that night that I felt my anxiety truly begin to melt away. There is such great power in the support you gain from the people that know you and love you best, and unconditionally. It is no secret that we lead a female centric life, so it is actually no surprise to me that this is the place my soul has dug it's heels into, in preparation for our pregnancy attempts. I revel in my relationship with my amazing partner, in our cuddly monkeys and in the joy that these kick ass women bring to our lives. I am doing yoga, getting acupuncture treatments, taking herbs, and treating my body well. All of the above turns out to be my recipe for stress relief. I am finding myself observing throughout the days leading up to our first attempt, the peacefulness and stillness in my heart. It's all good.

Power in a Word

One of my favorite clients/friends came in for a haircut today. He is half of one of the most inspirational couples that I know, and a very thoughtful, creative, innovative, kind, and generous individual. Our visits are often silly and light, but never without a thoughtful interlude or discussion about family, relationships, marriage, spirituality and small business management. He and his wife came to our wedding and of course we had to dish about the event, a little over a week later. We chatted about the connection that was found at their dinner table during our reception. They were seated at a four top table with another lesbian couple that we know, and they hit it off right from the start. I put so much love and energy into the seating arrangement, and I knew that he and his wife would get along well with the ladies we sat them next to. It turns out that they were curious at best about the couple they were seated with, but within a few minutes they knew that it must have been purposeful on our part. They were so thrilled with the arrangement that they exchanged numbers at the end of the night. He wanted to talk about my family being there, commenting on his observation about my parents, other folks that he met, and of course the band. The discussion then moved on to life after the wedding. "Will you refer to Kayla as "wife" now?" He asked. It is a valid question, since in our culture thus far, we don't have a norm, per say for what to call your same sex partner. To one another, probably like many other couples, Kayla and I refer to each other in more than one way. Sometimes we call each other "wife" or "wifey". Sometimes I call Kayla "husband", and she even refers to herself as "husband", though that is more a playful term of endearment reserved for the two of us. I appreciated the question because it made me realize that sometimes my behavior in public, to strangers, or to new clients for instance, is subconsciously intentionally designed to be palatable to a wide range of audiences. I answered that I usually refer to Kayla as "my partner", but I still often call her "my girlfriend". I appreciate that he asked me the question because it made me think about why I call her either of those things. It is second nature for me to call her my "partner" because that is the word that has become to be understood in our modern language to mean "same sex spouse", or even in some cases, an opposite sex spouse that for one reason or the other is not married or does not want to be referred to as married. His response to my answer was that he often finds it confusing when people refer to one another as "partner", for instance a man and woman that he knows who work together refer to one another as "partner", though he knows that they are romantically involved. He wonders if they are referring to their business or personal relationship. When I refer to Kayla as my partner I assume that people find it easy to distinguish because Kayla and I are not running a business together, but we live together and are building a life together. He shared that after he and his wife were married, he felt so proud to refer to her as "wife". He says it isn't even to do that much about her, but about the status that it refers to. "I am a married person. I am not dating, I am not even seriously dating. I am married. I have reached the point in life where I am making serious, important, permanent decisions." The entire conversation leaves me thoughtful, and I'm grateful for it. It reminds me that there is often a part of us that is kept closeted, even those of us that live our lives out loud in almost every way. We let others assume things about us because it is easier sometimes to not have to explain. I am reminded of when I was 19 and realizing this amazing truth about myself, and it felt like the deepest breath of fresh air on the inside, but facing the world that I had known up to that point I felt suffocated. A strange dichotomy is feeling so free and proud on one hand, but on the other, terrified and trembling at the idea of translating that new found freedom and pride out loud. My response to that fear was to shave my head, stop wearing make up, and don combat boots and baggy ripped up jeans. I have long been able to look back on that time in my life and recognize the reason for drastically changing the way that I looked. If I was unattractive to men, and stood out as an irregular girl or a girl that didn't give a fuck what people thought about how I looked, then I could get my message across without having to speak it out loud. I did not have the support or the confidence or the courage to tell everyone that I was a lesbian, so I turned myself into a walking billboard. I am thankful that I no longer suffer that fear on the level that can be paralyzing, but I am reminded that I do still suffer from a self inflicted need to please others. I am thankful that I work in an industry and live in a community that allows me to be outspoken about who and what I am. But there are still times when I hesitate to share something that my listener might not give a second thought to, and it comes from a rooted (unjust and irrational) fear that I will no longer be a "legitimate" member of society in their eyes. Maybe that is why I don't call Kayla "my wife" without a second thought. After all, it is just a word, but my friend and client reminded me today that there is great great power in a word.