krysti.net

“The world is won by those who let it go.” -Lao Tzu

As I ponder this quote, I begin to reflect the many things I have had to let go in my own little world.
One such thing is death. Death is inevitable and I’ve had to let go of the notion that not everyone dies, 90 years old and comfortably asleep in their beds.

My mother, not even 50 years old, waiting for a heart transplant, died with a breathing tube stuck down her throat. Reduced to writing on a clipboard, we communicated hope to each other. We wondered with every siren we heard, if it was a new heart that would save her life.

Living with a non-curable and rare cancer, I have to think that in the end I will face my own uncomfortable death.
This is part of my world I’ve had to let go.
I cannot dwell in an unknown future and wonder what fate my cancer will bring.
I let go.
I choose to live my every day, one second, one minute, one hour at a time.

I also let go of all of the “what-ifs” in my world.
“What if I had studied something else instead of French?”
“What if I had learned the guitar instead of clarinet?”
“What if I had gone to this college instead of that one?”
These are games I often play and games I quickly try to get out of my head.
The past is something in my world I’ve had to let go.

We live our whole lives filled with anger, resentment, hurt and hatred, because we dwell in the past and what has happened in the past.
We live our whole lives filled with anxiety, fear and disappointed hope because we dwell in the future and worry what will happen in the future.
And because of this, our present moments, at work, at home, in the car, with our loved ones, at the store…all of the “now”, are affected by our past and future “dwellings”.

Emily Dickinson once said: “That it will never come again is what makes life so sweet.”

Life is good because those moments in the now will never come again.
Even if those moments are bad, thank goodness they’ll pass.
And if those moments are good, are you in the present to savor and appreciate it?

My life may not be what I dreamed, but life has surprised me in many ways.
I am grateful for being aware that my adversities become my blessings.
I am grateful that my failures have shaped me into a better person.
I am grateful for each present moment.
Letting go of the past, letting go of the future, letting go of a world of death.
It’s a good life.

I think it’s an escape.
A mental escape from the stresses of my life, but I know, since I was a little girl, that I live in fantasies.
I blame the Raggedy Ann and Andy movie into making me believe that my dolls came to life.
It, of course, did not help when the Toy Story movies came out and I animated many of Iain and Liam’s toys.
Iain truly believes his G.I. Joe would have his feelings hurt if he doesn’t get stuffed in his chin guards to “see” Iain play in his game.
That’s my fault, to some degree.
I love to believe in the most unbelievable. I don’t know why.
When I read, for example, I’m completely lost in that world and live there for days.
Right now, I’m in Twilight land and wish I had had a vampire boyfriend in high school. Doesn’t everyone?

But the real problem right now, is my insatiable taste for myth.
My kids believe in leprechauns, that you don’t step on mushrooms for fear of destroying a fairy’s home.
They believe of a fairy that leaves you money for your teeth, and a great wizard that leaves you gifts under your tree.
I make my kids a magic giraffe tea that promises them good dreams and make sure they make wishes on dandelions, lightening bugs and stars.
It is fun to live in a fantasy world, but sometimes it can backfire on you.
Like when you know, Christmas will be small this year and you tell your children not to expect too much as they anxiously begin making their lists.

“That’s okay mommy,” Liam said, “Santa can just get us these, he doesn’t need money.”
Back to reality.
But, for some reason, I will never tell my children that magic doesn’t exist.
I don’t know why.
I think there is so much a part of me that wants to believe it does.
A part that truly believes in magic and miracles and not just coincidences or good fortune.
Maybe one day, I’ll find that I was right and stumble upon the end of a rainbow. One thing I do know for sure, it all works out in the end. Somehow, it just falls into place….magically.

Every year, since my oldest son, Iain, was 2 years old, we would go to a little cafe called the Whistle Stop for birthdays and special family occasions.
It was a little ‘hole-in-the-wall’ place with great food, nestled in the mountains.
The charm of this restaurant, especially if you have boys, was that it was train themed and actually had model trains running all around the tables.
Last week, I thought it would be fun to take the boys to Whistle Stop for lunch.
When we arrived, not only was it closed, but it was no longer the Whistle Stop.
Pete’s Pizza Place had arrived and as my son ran out of the car and cupped his hands to the glass, he yelled: “The trains are gone too!!!”
It was a quiet drive home, too quiet.
I looked in the rear view mirror and saw tears running down Iain’s cheeks.
“Honey, it’s okay–we’ll find another special place to go.”
He didn’t speak, he just gazed out of the window.
And when we came home, he went up to his bedroom and cried some more.
I never realized how important a simple family tradition was to him.
In his mind, he had lost the Whistle Stop forever, not realizing that what made it special was our family togetherness, something he could have anywhere.
It was revealing to see how sensitive he was and how easily he is broken when things change.
I could not help but think of the cancer.
What will happen to him when I die?
My heart was suddenly heavy and guilty and burdened with the cancer that could change everything for my sensitive child.
I listened to him crying over a restaurant and imagined what he will be like over me, leaving this life forever.
It was one of the most painful moments of my life, listening to his sadness.
I talk to my children about death, more than most mothers, but only because it is my day to day reality.
I tell them not to be afraid of death, it is only part of the cycle of life.
I have talked to them about my cancer and how I’m fighting very hard to beat it.
But seeing Iain cry over change, wanting things to stay the same and stay in tradition, made me realize that he didn’t need to talk about death, he needed to talk about how death could change his life.
“Iain, honey”,rubbing his back, “Life is about change (death), if you get upset about those changes, you will have a hard time. You need to embrace the changes in your life (mommy dying) and know that it’s okay, life goes on, and you will learn that change is a good thing because you will find and discover new things in your life (college, love, children). Pete’s Pizza Place (life without mommy) is probably a really cool place and I bet Pete would love for us to come to his restaurant for our birthdays (life will be okay without me). You’ll see, it’s okay to be sad about the Whistle Stop (mommy dying), it’s okay to be sad about the changes (death) sometimes, but you will find that the sadness goes away,
you’ll see…..
you’ll see…..”

I am on a journey of living the life I have always dreamed!!!

I guess you could say it’s my ‘bucket list’.

I’m only 36, but I do have cancer and qualify for all of the things the government gives old people, so….yeah….I have a ‘bucket list’!

I am ‘RE’…I love that little prefix…’RE’-inventing my life.

Like a new birth, I have been ’spanked’ to awareness.

All around me, are other human beings going through hell and then making changes in their life for the better.

I would like to talk about these people I notice.

Some are personal friends and some are celebrities.

Today, I will talk about my “If I were a lesbian” crush, Rihanna.

Here’s a woman, in the spotlight everyday, dating an ass, who was also in the spotlight everyday.

News of domestic abuse from said ‘ass’,  whose name I refuse to mention, surfaces all over the tabloids and entertainment channels.

Now, 3 or 4 years ago, if that had been me, I would have been sucking my thumb in fetal position for 6 months.  I would have been ashamed, embarrassed, worried of what others might think.

But now, I will take a lesson from Rihanna,  who has re-invented her life since that dreadful day.

Rihanna did not hide under a rock.

She made sure justice was served, and then she held her chin high and rolled on with her life.

I am inspired by her courage, her strength, her awesomeness, her ability to kick some ‘ass’ with her music.

I hope you are too!

Click here to watch Rihanna kick ass!

If you know me,  you know I’m not a morning person.

In fact, I’m pretty sure that is the reason I homeschool, so I don’t have to wake at the crack of dawn to get my kids fed, dressed and on a bus!

But I will tell you, that for Yoga, I was up at 6 am!

I woke up before anyone else in my family, even Iain.

It felt great to be awake and ready to go with my day and I’m thinking that I need to wake up this early every day.

I’m ashamed to say, however, that morning flatulence runs in my family.

I remember hearing my mom set off her own bombs while I was getting ready for school.  I used to think:  “My God that woman farts like a dinosaur!”  And here I am now, THAT WOMAN!

Believe me, the second I put my feet on the floor, the rumbling begins!

I cannot tell you how hard I try to be modest and classy, but I can only thank God that Alex ignores it now.

Hey, love me, love my gas.  Marriage can get too comfortable sometimes!

So I’m sitting in Yoga this morning and everything’s melting.

I mean, I’m visualizing my muscles melting into the floor and I’m trying hard to breathe and to really look like I know what I’m doing.

While in ‘child-like’ pose, my belly draping between my knees, I just knew I was going to blow!

So instead of visualizing relaxation and meditating on ‘positive’ energy, I’m tightening every muscle in my body and thinking about the ’stinky’ energy ready to be released.

‘Come on Krysti, keep it together’, I’m silently praying.

Talk about stress!  It’s bad enough that I’m trying to release the stress in my life and now I’m replacing it with the fear that I’m going to fart so loud that while everyone is doing the ‘praying mantis’, I’ll be knocking them off balance!

My friend has re-assured me today that everyone gets the urge to fart in Yoga.  It just takes one fart to open that channel for everyone else.

Well, maybe I’ll be that one person.

I’ll keep you posted!

Namaste!

Because I get a second chance at life, I choose to do things differently.  Have you ever thought about what you would change in your life if you could go back in time?  I do often.  I look back and wish I had lived the life I’m trying to live now.

Here are some things I would have done instead:

1)

Okay, I have to leave that blank, and I’ll tell you why.

It is the past in my life, the stupid things I might have said or might have done that made me who I am today.

I cannot look back any longer.  I cannot be nostalgic of a past of which I am not always proud.

I would not be able to re-invent my life and be on this exciting  journey if I did not have those mistakes from which to learn.

So, in this moment, I will tell you what I am doing now.

I am learning to play Bass guitar.  I am going to poetry readings. I am publishing an art/literary magazine for children. I am learning Yoga, and I am proud that my 8 year old has called me the Yoga Diva!

That’s me!

I can remember, as a little girl, seeing the rays of the sun through the clouds.  I thought it was God.

My only exposure to church, as a child, was my grandmother.  She took me to a Baptist Sunday school once.  The teacher told all of us (8 year olds) that there was no Santa, no Easter Bunny and if babies die, they go to hell because they haven’t accepted Jesus into their hearts.

I told Mammaw what the scary man said and she never took me there again.

Fast forward my life 8 years, the hormones were raging and there were very cute guys in my friend’s church youth group.  I found Jesus that year….I think, or maybe just a crush?

I started to believe what the church taught me.  I started to read a list of Do’s and Don’ts.  I began to seperate good versus bad.  That guy is bad because he’s homosexual.  That guy is good because he is not.

I lost myself in religion.

And when bad things began to happen, someone told me I didn’t have enough faith.  Someone else told me that we don’t know why there’s bad in this world.  And someone else told me to wait until heaven for things to get good again.

My mom became “saved” when I was in high school.  She loved to go to church.  She was so excited about teaching Sunday school and reading the many versions of the bible.

She had her highlighters and her bible bag and then one day she came home crying.

“Mom, what’s wrong?”  I asked.

“Pastor Jon talked about how we should always be in prayer.  I don’t understand how I can be talking to God all the time when I have to work and do other things.  He made me feel like I was a bad christian.”

My mom would have loved to have been a pastor, or a pastor’s wife, spending all day in prayer.  She got sick, very quickly after that.  She needed a heart transplant and died waiting.

“She must have lost her faith in God’s healing powers,” a neighbor explained.

My dad, my brother and I knew they were wrong.

And when I got cancer, the “healing powers of God” played like a broken record in my life.

“God healed you Krysti!”  a friend said.

That’s great–I guess, so why me and not my mom?  Why me and not the children in Africa?  Why me and not all of the other people who die every day from something?

Is God this great puppeteer?  Are we supposed to pray that he pulls our strings?

I just can’t believe that.  I do believe, that my cancer was a gift.  And if I am healed, it is a healing from a feeling of entitlement. Who am I to believe in God and expect all of these miraculous, magical blessings?  Who am I to believe that if someone doesn’t believe in God, they are destined for death.

I am  thankful for something to believe in.  I believe in a power greater than anything in this universe.  A power that is not selective in people’s answered prayers, a power that does not see good or bad, but demonstrates a universal and unconditional love.

I believe in a cycle of life that includes a death of which I am no longer afraid.

May the lessons of this cycle inspire future generations.

I am at peace with my faith, with my convictions, with my prayers.

I am “healed”.  I am whole.

http://www.petertork.com/

Check out the link above.  If you have ACC, you have a new friend.

I am too young to remember Peter Tork in his day.  It wasn’t until the mid 1980’s, when I was in middle school, that MTV began to show re-runs of The Monkees .

In 8th grade,  I was fascinated by The Monkees.  I loved watching their re-runs after school and my dad (remember the dj?) had a couple of their albums.

I started to memorize ‘Daydream Believer’ and my friends and I would link arm in arm and do that funny walk by crossing our feet.

The Monkees had new fame and actually re-grouped for a reunion tour.

I wanted to see them in concert, and so, for my 13th birthday, my dad bought me tickets for me and a friend.

I remember taking a friend from my cheerleading squad, and we went and danced and screamed for The Monkees on stage.

We were far enough away to not notice their age, and were transported to the 60s in our adolescent minds.

I have returned to those memories with the realization that Peter Tork has been recently diagnosed with the same cancer, ACC (Adenoid Cystic Carcinoma).

I have now been cosmically connected to another soul who is suffering, surviving and healing.

Peter’s site is inspiring and I hope you will encourage and support his fight for research for rare cancer.

“HOPE ON!” Peter, “HOPE ON!”

For my many friends who have written to me and have posted your own stories on my ACC site, just letting you know, that I’m still alive.

Since 2007, I have had to take a step back from everything cancer.  My need to keep moving has been healing for me.  I have taken a couple of years to reflect and evaluate where to go from here.

After all of the surgeries, the treatments, the depression and the physical toll my body has taken, the time has come to re-create my life.

Being a survivor of fear and disease has caused my eyes to see different lights.  My political, religious and social views have all changed because of cancer.  And in my opinion, for the better.

I can’t help but shake my head at so much ignorance of the world around me.  I can’t help but be sad for my friends and family who live the daily grind with their eyes half-closed.

Cancer was a gift, and  I will not take for granted the lessons it has taught me.

I ended my cancer blog as a beginning survivor, January of 2007.

I am starting this blog as a beginner of my new life.

I have survived, I have healed, I will move on and continue to learn.

If you are a survivor, take this journey with me.

There is a direct link to my cancer site for any information you may need. Post a story of your own or  if you have any questions regarding your own search about your treatments, feel free to e-mail me at krysti@krysti.net.

What?!  What did the title of this blog post say?  We just don’t talk about things like that!

Actually, my sexual healing began long ago.

I’m referring to Marvin Gaye.

My dad was a dj.  A well-known disc jockey in the 60’s and 70’s and  I grew up listening to Led Zeppelin and Jimi Hendrix.  We have photos of them in our family albums.

My dad would run the concerts and introduce the bands and interview these guys back stage.

Most weekends,  my mom would take us to the station to see dad working his late shifts.  I loved watching him and sometimes got to go in the room with him as long as I was quiet.  I got used to watching the light and waiting for it to turn back off so that I could talk.

It never failed, every weekend, Marvin Gaye’s ‘Sexual Healing’ was the number one request from the college in town.  I grew up hearing that song and never really cared about its meaning.

As I start to re-invent my life, post cancer, it becomes quite clear that sexual healing is important.  I’m not just talking about sex.  I’m talking about being a woman.  Feeling like a woman.  Loving myself the way I am, physically.

Having babies have caused stretch marks and droopy boobs.  The cancer has caused weight gain and a large scar down the middle of those droopy boobs.  It has taken its toll on my self-esteem.

However, my husband, the wonderful man that he is, has been able to recognize that I needed some ’sexual healing’.

“Krysti”, he said one night, “I love your stretch marks because they represent the life you gave to our children, I love your cancer scar because it represents the life you are still living with me and I love your weight gain because now you look like one of those goddesses in a painting.”

Yes ladies, he’s mine!