Fairies and other mystical things

I’ve always identified myself as a fairy.  I know, you are probably thinking, WTF, this chick is out of her mind.  And to that I will answer, proudly.

See, fairies have this light inside of them.  This light is so bright and full of energy that people want to steal it.  They want to put it on their mantle as a keepsake, something to admire, a conquest to be proud of.  But if we (fairies) are contained, we will die, then our light will be there for no one to feel.

Fairies have never liked boxes; too confining, too ridged, too stuffy.  We typically don’t draw within the lines as they they threaten our imagination.  We love people, all kinds.  We want to fill the world with beauty, love, laughter, life, kindness and mystery.  But when someone tries to capture us, to put us in a jar, we become feisty.  We do not like threats to our natural state of being free and full of life.  We will gladly share all of our beauty, love, laughter, kindness, life and mystery, but you cannot have it. It does not belong to you.

Thank you to those who allow me to fly free, this fairy loves you for it.  This fairy is still alive because I have never allowed myself to be put in a jar, though many have tried.  Thank you to my family, who even though they roll their eyes at me from time to time, they know I am a fairy.  And most days of the week, they love me for that.  The other days, well, they get out of my way.

Pre opp visit today, and I’m still damn Fairy.  Full of beauty, love, laughter, life, kindness and mystery.  14 days and counting…

Tell me; are you a fairy too? If you are, shine bright and share your light!  There are many out there who need you.

Fairy

 

 

Prayers n’ other shit

I woke up the morning after sharing my blog feeling uncomfortable.  I was mentioning to my husband “I’m feeling like I should’t have shared the blog”.  My husbands immediate answer was, “I wouldn’t have”.  Now  if any of you know my husband that answer prompts a, “well no shit Sherlock”.  Captain fucking obvious over here.  Basically there are two people he would share something with, me and his mom.  Definitely not the internet.  Adorable, right? Right.

I was not uncomfortable because all of my shit was out in the open (oddly I’m OK with that).  My husband asked me why I was uncomfortable about it and my answer, “people are fucking praying for me”.   Now, first off I’d like to say, thank you for your prayers because I know they come from a place of caring and love, but I’d also like to say, don’t.  Don’t pray for me.  Prayers make me feel like I’m sick, and I’m far from sick.  My husbands response was, “well what did you want?”  Great question. So I got to thinking, what did I want?

Some of what I wanted I got.  I had several people come up to me and say the blog was funny.  I had many women tell me I was a bad ass, strong, brave… I want women to know their strength and to harness that powerful shit.  I had someone who knew me many years ago send me an email telling me that my passion for life and adventure have always been “intoxicating”.  This was such a compliment to me because that is who I am, and it felt nice to be seen.  I had one person joke with me the next day that he felt like he had to be nice to me now.  He was quite relieved when I told him I would hate nothing more than that, in which he proceeded to say “I can’t believe you are only 36” (he learned from my blog) and I politely responded by saying “fuck you”.  And just like that, the world was right again.  I guess I wanted what I always want;  People to laugh, feel less alone, think positive, and understand that it’s OK to be who you are, not what someone else want’s you to be.  F-bombs and all.

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Fucked. And not in the good way.

You know how when you get tested for something and you worry that they will ask you to come in for the results?  When you get asked to come in for the results you know you are fucked.  You. Are. Fucked.  And not in the good way.

They made me come in to hear the news.  It’s exactly how I imagined it would be.  Sheer panic on the way in.  Then you start telling yourself they mixed up your results with someone else’s.  I’m usually pretty good at telling myself stories (someday I’ll tell you the story of how I convinced myself I touched Shamu’s tongue) and I spun a lot of stories in my head on the way in. I mean some major denial is happening.  If I had just gotten a call, “Hey Heather?  Yeah, so you have Lynch Syndrome.  No big deal.  Totally won’t change your life.  K, bye!” Maybe it wouldn’t have felt so big.  But it was big.  But not big in the way I thought it would be.  The funny thing is, I think it changed my life for the better.  That feels strange to say, but I think it’s true.  The appreciation I have for life, for my body, for my family, for the things I enjoy in life… exponentially bigger now, and it was pretty big to begin with.

So life goes on.  Really, it’s not bad. And I smile all the way through because really, what else are you going to do? I had my first colonoscopy when I was 28, and I will tell you that whatever they give you during a colonoscopy is some good shit.  I call it fluffy unicorn dope. And it’s a great way to have the good old insurance company pay for your “cleansing”.  If I went to LA for that shit (pun intended) I’d have to drop some major cash, soooo #grateful! Through all of this it still didn’t dawn on me to get life insurance. Which again, is one of my biggest regrets.  Funny how they don’t want to give it to you when you have an 80% chance of cancer.

I knew the recommendation for Lynch women was to get a total hysterectomy, but that was so far away I didn’t really have to think about it.  I mean, I would still have to have children and finish breast feeding… I had so much time.  So much, wait, what?  Well, fuck.

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Heddy’s Ready – Bring it on

Welcome to my head.  No, that’s not why it’s called, “Heddy”.  That’s me; Hedd, or Heddy, to those who know me well. But that’s a story for later… maybe.  Now

There are a lot of things you should know about me, most you will learn later.  For now, I’ll just jump right in…

I’m 36 years old and I’ve just started the last period I will ever have.  Ever. In. My. Life. Let’s rewind to the beginning…

When you are 28 years old you think about a lot of things.  You think about your career, your future children, what you will eat for dinner, or even if your marriage will survive.  I’ll tell you something you don’t think about; Life insurance. Why would a healthy 28 year old, childless woman think about mortality to the point of contemplating life insurance?  Well when I look back, this is one of my only regrets.  You don’t know what you don’t know, and what I didn’t know is that I’d learn something about myself in the months following my marriage, that would change the course of my life.  Today, I start the first day of my last period. Period.

Keep your face to the sunshine and you cannot see a shadow – Helen Keller

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