Land of 1000 thoughts

When's the last time you picked up your guitar?  Lost in Translation. Take it easy.  "You dirty liar."  Where did you put those shoes, Chad?  Did you actually write back to that person?  How about those thank you notes?  What did the dr. say when he called last week?  Do I do this on my computer or iPad?  QT at the coffee shop or home today?  Be present.  Stop eating so much.  Lift my hands and spin around, see the light that I have found.  Marvelous light.  Zac Brown Band.  Bucket list: stay at a Travelodge, go to Cuba.  My next favorite thing is eating lunch at 10:30 am.  Hootie.

And my most used phrase these days, "Chad you didn't tell me that."  

When, 10 minutes to 1 hour later and many harsh words we realize that he in fact did tell me whatever I was adamant that he didn't. Because I just don't remember.

Chemo brain these days.  That's what we're looking at here.

All that nonsense at the beginning of this post?  I can account for almost half of it, the other half I wrote down in my "blog" note on my phone so I wouldn't forget, but I don't know why.  Not sure why many of these (and countless others that I've already forgotten to remember) were at one time running through my head, but they were.  Thousands of nonsensical thoughts...every day.  Yet I can't remember the things I want to remember.

My chemo brain, and hopefully not my forever brain, is in full force. It's been the bain of my existence these...few weeks?  Few months?  You could convince me that it's been years, except that I'm with it just enough to know that this journey has only been with us for 6 months.  Nice try. 

Right now I'm joyful.  So joyful because we had an awesome evening.  I'll write about it later...or later in this post, let's see how we feel.  Come, travel this journey with me!  :)

It makes me sad to write about my forgetfulness though.  Anyone, especially Ali and CP, can attest to me not having a great memory to start with...so I'm not exactly playing with a full deck, if you catch my drift. 

But it's been so bad lately.  And I wasn't able to fully articulate until Saturday night, when Chad and I...no.  No, it was last night.  Monday night.  Anyway, we got into it...a fight.  I can't even recall what started it.  But it was bad.  We were not on the same page, not reading the same book...we couldn't seem to get either of our points across effectively.  Which is frustrating on many levels...one being that I was a communication major.  And I can tell you, from 5 years of college, that communication isn't what you say, it's what the other person hears.  Well, we were hearing all sorts of stuff, and just both being frustrated and mean to each other, both wanting to be right...and I finally had a break.  A joyous, exciting, dreadful, depressing break.  I came to the realization that I had to admit something to myself as well as Chad...I was frustrated and stubborn about being "right," when I couldn't (be right) because I couldn't remember.  [I know this is hard to follow right now...it is for me, too, bear with me.  I hope it gets easier]  I've been having memory problems since pretty early on in my chemo-ness, but hey!  I could blame it on the chemo...and I shall call you "chemo brain." And you shall be mine.  you shall be my squishy.   ....Finding Nemo tangent...

Well, something that I've known for the past month or so, but not even been willing to admit to myself, has been that I can't remember.  I can't remember conversations.  I can't remember doing things.  Not doing things.  Where I put things.  When I put things.  Did I actually write back to that person or did I tell myself to do it enough that I imagined it?

I'm also kind of a procrastinator, so that doesn't help anything.

But I can't remember.  However, I can function.  I can get through my days.  I can shower and get dressed and remember to eat...ohh how I remember to eat these days!  I can do enough that I can fool myself that everything's ok.  Or that it's not as bad as it is.  But that's not true.  And I think I can admit it now, 1. Because I was able to admit it to the person I try and be most vulnerable with, Chad. and 2. Because in this way, I'm letting y'all hold me accountable to what's going on in my life.  I never actively try and be sneaky with you, you my friends and family and support.  I try and be vulnerable and transparent about my life.  But I revert back to self-preservation mode sometimes and I can't quite explain why I do what I do.  But I do it.  haha.

Every time I wrote "I can't remember," I teared up.  I wanted to cry.  Because it breaks my heart.  It kills me a little inside.  Because I'm selfish and I'm thinking of myself, but I don't want it to be like this forever.  I want this forgetfulness to GO AWAY!  I want my old memory back-flawed as it was.  People have been asking me a lot lately, (since I finished chemo 3 weeks ago-wow, has it been that long already?) "how does it feel?  Does it feel good to be done?" And I answer honestly, "yes, it feels good to be done with chemo, but it hasn't fully set in yet."  "I think that will take time, months, years maybe."  But I think it hasn't set it yet because it's not fully finished yet either.  I'm starting another part of this journey of my life.  Recovery.  And it doesn't quite look like I thought it would.  My feet are still partially numb.  I still have difficulty breathing.  I still need naps. (nah, that's a life-long thing ;) )  And I still have chemo brain.  And it's gotten worse.  And in some ways, it's all getting harder.  Harder to deal with what's happening now vs. what I just went through.  Say what?

And while I don't feel like I fully articulated what I'm feeling and thinking and dreading and living right now, I hope this snapshot helps explain a little.  Why I'm still not getting back to you, why that email, text, etc. continues to go unanswered.  Why when we speak face to face I might seem distracted.  It's just because I can't concentrate.  It's not you, it's me, really!  Ha.  Conversations are often difficult for me.  My brain goes off to another place...it's fuzzy and gray and cloudy.  And it's a place I can't always leave.  Coffee helps.  For a hot second.  And I hate it.  I do. (not the coffee, the other stuff) I hate not feeling like myself and not even being able to explain why.  I hate thinking that this might not ever go away.  Or that this might be my new normal.  If this is what God's got in store for me, I might as well get used to it, but I hope not.  And I don't want to believe it.  And I hate that it affects my whole life, not just bits and pieces, the cancer/chemo pieces.  It's all my relationships that are affected.  It's everyone I come in contact with.  And it's those who love me best who get the worst of it, because you've gotten the "trying too hard, Emily" who tries to overcompensate for my shortcomings and...just crashes and burns. 

But I do still believe with all my heart what Romans says, that "Trials and tribulations produce perseverance, and perseverance produces character and character hope, and hope does not disappoint..."  So it's not the crap we go through, but how we react to it...Forrest Gump had it right when he helped create that bumper sticker... "Shit Happens."  I just hope he remembered to put three dots at the end so we remember that it doesn't stop there...

since I hate a post without a pic, enjoy this polaroid of little Ninny, mid yawn.