That Gingerbread Man that smelled so sweet...

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Tonight the traditional Gingerbread-cookie-making ritual begins. I'll make the dough, tomorrow we'll bake them and ice them. My daughter and I have been making these cookies every single year since her birth. I do not think we missed *one* year. Sometimes I would experiment with different recipes... and sometimes I'd be exhausted and buy the pre-made dough, but for 12 years, I flew to Ohio to make cookies and to spend part of the holidays with Candace and her family. Wow. I think I even made cookies two years ago when she passed away. A tradition is a tradition.

Last year was my first year with M out here, living with me. My cookies weren't very good. I made them with gluten free flour and a lot of stress. This year, I am making them from scratch - using real butter, real flour and almost no stress. How things change in a year.

How things change in 14 years.

I think my favorite year was when she was about eight. Her brother was just a toddler. Candace had her house decorated - she had even scavenged a live tree because she knew how much I loved them. I told Candace not to tell the kids what day I was coming. I got to the airport, rented a car, stopped briefly at Kroger, and pulled in the driveway laden with gifts from home and ingredients for gingerbread cookies. The moment I parked the car, the dogs started barking inside the house. Candace had left the back door unlocked knowing I would be coming. I walked in and called out, "Ho! Ho! Ho!"

Little M came running in from the other room screaming, "MK!MK!MK!" and gave me the biggest hug ever - I think she had tears in her eyes she was so excited. Her little brother came toddling in behind her and hugged my leg. I could barely set my luggage down and hobble into the kitchen.

There is something to be said for tradition. For ritual. It is the time of year for it. And while tradition can be something that holds people back, it can also be the foundation from which we build our lives. Making gingerbreadmen is a tradition I will follow every year I have my daughter with me, and even into the future when she goes on to college and then someday shares the holiday not just with me but with her own version of family. The smell and taste of gingerbread will always be something that grounds me and reminds me of blessings I have in my life.

Speaking of tradition, I'm watching 'White Christmas' with Bing Crosby and my favorite Irving Berlin song just came on:

Traditions can be amazing blessings - if you feel so inclined, share some of your blessings and traditions with me, I'd love to hear about them!

Many blessings to you all this holiday season - so many it is difficult to count! May your own traditions warm your heart and ground you as you prepare to enter the new year with all the joy and resolutions to come!

Peace,

MaryKate

Ain't No Mountain High Enough

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Monday, August 25th. Today marks the one year anniversary of my life changing.

I went from living a life of "me"- my choices and my decisions, to living a life of 'we'.

And everything shifted.
And my heart cracked open.
And all the colors of the world became brighter.

I can not say it has made my life easier. That wouldn't be honest - only having to attend to my own needs was much easier.  But when I look at my life, I can no longer imagine my life as my own. My life may not be easier, but it is fuller, richer and better. No matter what happens in the future, having her here has forever changed my 'now'.

I was told when I was in my 20s that I couldn't have children. My mom took DES when she was pregnant with me and having a child wasn't really in my cards. And that was okay. I taught school. I had kids around me ALL THE TIME.

But life has a way of moving and flowing - and anyone who knows me knows my life is seldom quiet and simple.

So much has changed in a year. I have gained friends, strengthened friendships I treasured already, and lost loves. I have learned more about myself in these past 12 months than I have in the past 12 years. I have grown in so many ways: as a partner, as a mother, as a human being. It has even reminded me to take better care of myself - I have a strong reason to be healthier now.

I have been angry. I have been hurt. I have cried. I have laughed harder than ever before in my life. I have felt helpless and empowered. And I wouldn't change one moment of it. Not one. Having a daughter has changed my life - and those changes have helped me grow and become more compassionate, more open and more honest. Even when I wasn't gentle with my honesty, I still believe being honest has been an important part of the two of us turning into a family.

Because my life ebbs and flows, I can't say what will happen tomorrow. I can't fully predict where we will be or what life will be showing us... what I can predict is that no matter where she is, she will have a part of my heart no one else has - maybe because I didn't even know it was there until she showed it to me.

Love,

MaryKate


cue music:
(released the year I was born - 1967)
Ain't No Mountain High Enough

CH Ch Changes...

I remember when I was in my early 30s and Candace decided she was going to have a baby. We had always planned on doing that together. She and I would get pregnant and we'd share the ups and downs of bloating, craving, 'kicking' and birthing.

I remember not being able to get pregnant. I tried. Sort of. At the time I was in a long term relationship, but there was no talk of marriage on the horizon. I refused to get pregnant and not be married, or marry because I was pregnant, so it just never happened. I have no judgment about people who get married because a baby is on the way (hey, my parents did!) it just wasn't something for me. Plus, with PCOS, getting pregnant was going to clearly involve more than not using birth control and protection. In the end, that time of my life came and went and I didn't have many regrets. 

I remember watching Candace go through her pregnancies. She'd had scarlet fever when she was very little and one of her kidneys didn't function, plus she was overweight - both things contributed to making her pregnancies a bit difficult. One thing I remember though was that she absolutely glowed. Together, we celebrated the birth of her first baby. My partner and I, at the time, agreed to be godparents to her daughter. Then, several years later I got to be in the birthing room when her son was born. And while I haven't been a 'real' mom myself, I did get to feel like the 'cool' godmom on the west coast. I liked that role and have enjoyed my experience with it.

The easy going flow changed the day Candace called me to tell me her husband had cancer  - Waldenstrom Macroglobulinemia. I was living in Seattle, working from home, traveling to schools around the country, and still in the long term relationship. I was on a conference call and not paying any attention to the call. She called me on my cell phone and I put my conference call on mute. She was crying. I was shocked, saddened and worried. She had a baby! Over time her husband went into remission and they had a second baby. Not long after her little boy came, her husband found himself fighting cancer again. For him, it has been an on and off battle for over ten years.

One day, when I was visiting with her in Ohio, Candace informed me that if anything happened to her and her husband she wanted me to have custody of her children. She was sitting on the couch in her living room, the sun shining through her long, curly hair. Her golden-hazel eyes shined. All matter of fact she said, "We've talked about it, and we can't imagine anyone more spiritually perfect or more loving than you. We also asked their uncle as well, but I know, MK, that if anything happened, you'd love my kids and take care of them." I told her nothing was going to happen, but of course I would do that. I had a remote idea it might happen one day but I wasn't worried. I loved her. I loved her kids. And Candace wasn't ever going anywhere. After all, we had plans. We had golf carts in our future. 

Everything changed the day Candace told me she had cancer. I was driving to work, I remember our school was having an inservice day. I listened as she sobbed on the phone. I could barely drive. I sobbed all the way to work, then the whole day. Then the next day. She fought against the cancer for five years. It was extremely aggressive. I remember one day we talked while she was having chemo pumped into the port in her neck. With quiet tears tracking down her face she told me how in the future I was going to have to be the mom, I was the one who was going to be there to watch her children graduate. I was going to be there to watch them get married. I was the one who would be their support and love them. I cried with her. I told her of course I would be there, but so would she. She was going to make it. She'd smile at me in her knowing way and we gently hugged each other through the tubes and wires.

When she passed away this December, I wasn't sure what was going to happen. Initially, her husband wanted to take care of the kids and try not to disrupt their lives too much. It made sense and life just moved along. I helped when I could and my goddaughter has come to visit me twice since December.

Four days ago, that all changed. For many reasons that aren't mine to share, my goddaughter's father and I decided that it would be a good idea for my goddaughter to come and live with me. It has all happened tremendously fast. In three days I have run around getting legal paperwork done, getting things notarized, trying to get her enrolled in school in Seattle and getting things organized. I am full of love and excitement!

I am also terrified. Perhaps every mother feels this way? I have had thirteen years watching my goddaughter grow up far away from me. I got to be the cool 'godmom' in Seattle. You know, like that kooky Aunt every kid is lucky to have - the one that wears long tyedye dresses, likes trees, traveling and the ocean. The one that has an awesome boyfriend with a cool house. But that role is changing now. Now, I become the 'mom' figure. I have to learn to navigate boundaries. I get to love and be loved - so I do get the good stuff, but I get the heartache and the struggle of watching a child I love make choices that make me hold my breath. Although this is tentatively only a 'year', in that year I get to help her learn to define who she is, and at the same time, I suspect I am going to redefine who I am.

I know I am supported and loved and that helps tremendously. But lately, I struggle sleeping because I have so much in my head. I sense all these implications and I'm trying so hard to plot and plan and prepare. I see how my life, my relationship with the man I love, and even my friendships are going to change. I see how I am going to change. 

I am taking a lot of deep breaths lately. I am remembering to take things one moment at a time. None of that is easy. I want to feel safe and I want to know I am going to be fine. But more than any of that, I want to know SHE is going to be fine. And I can't know that. Not really. I can only do what I can do and hope for the best. I just realize that the world that seemed so fine and relatively safe four days ago, doesn't feel that way so much now that I will have a 13 year old in my life. It feels so. much. bigger.

In other words, I am no different than any other parent who wants so much to control and protect, but realizes that really, I can only love. I can help her lay down a solid foundation knowing she is loved. I can give her boundaries and rules that in time she will rebel against. I can watch her soar and I can watch her stumble. And I can offer her a hand to help her up if she wants it. But I can't fix, or change, or soften any of her life. It is her life and she does not belong to anyone other than herself.

And while I am scared, I am also excited. And awed. And amazed that Candace and her husband trusted me with their child. And I can only do the best I know how. 

I am so grateful to have been loved and trusted so much, not just by them but by so many in my life that I now can love and trust so much. 

New road, new path, new adventure. Considering how my trips sometimes go? I expect this will be full of laughter, angst, joy and anxiety and thank god I have such wonderful people around me, well around 'us' now, that will hang out on the sidelines, cheer us on and love us.

Peace,

MaryKate 

When A Bag is more than a Bag...

Candace's Bag
109 

When Candace’s husband asked me what I wanted of Candace’s, I didn’t hesitate. I asked for the bag hanging in the garage. This bag. This large, blue and white, 15 - 20 year old Land's End bag that says "Candace" stitched in cursive.

It may seem like an odd thing to ask for a bag. I, of course, don’t see a bag. I see a trip. I see almost every trip we ever took together. Thank god this bag can’t talk. If it could, the things it would tell about our excursions might make me blush in mixed company...

Some of our earliest trips were to stay overnight at my dad’s ‘cabin’ in Marblehead, Ohio. Calling it a cabin made it sound so romantic. It was a trailer. An old trailer. A 1978 trailer. A comfortable middle class trailer with a room built on and an air-conditioner stuck in the window. My mother had chosen to cover the kitchen floor with carpet that had strawberries on it. God I wish I had a photo of that carpet. Sometimes it was just me and Candace. Sometimes? It was Randy. And sometimes it was a dating weekend with her boyfriend (later husband – Mike) and my boyfriend at the time. Sometimes it was a girl’s weekend. There was almost always skinny dipping involved. Oh yeah, we were wild women in our 20s. Later as well got to know each other that trip was ‘couples weekend’. Steve and Ellen, Mike and Candace, Hans and I. We lived like we had all the time in the world to be happy. And we were. Candace eventually married Mike, Steve and Ellen eventually married and Hans and I remained friends, even after all these years. They were good times. Some of the best times, and I am pretty sure Margaritas were almost always involved.

In my early 30s, I moved to Seattle. I told Candace I would only be out there for 5 years. - then I’d be back. I did move back later, but never again would Ohio be my permanent home. I remember the day I left. Candace took me to the airport. In the back of her van this bag sat full of summer stuff she hadn’t removed from her car yet. She hugged me, I made my empty 5 year promise and we cried. And we cried. She told me once she cried all the way home. Then cried for several days. I did the same. I knew I was leaving a part of myself behind. It wouldn't be long after that she started her family.

Candace and I talked on yahoo instant messenger almost every day. We talked on the phone, although I really don’t like talking on the phone – she loved it. Sometimes she’d call just to talk and I wouldn’t answer the phone. I feel bad about that now. I feel bad that I didn’t take the time to connect. It never bothered her and I don’t ‘regret’ it, just think today how much I’ll miss that. Even towards the end of her illness she'd call me and her voice was full of joy. I will miss that more than anything.

Candace and I made the trip across the country from Ohio to Seattle five times together. I can’t even remember the details of all the trips. She desperately wanted to make that trip one more time with the kids, but that didn’t happen. I remember on one of the trips, we decided we were going to stop at every cheesy roadside attraction. We saw the giant statue of the Jolly Green Giant, The Corn Palace (which was to become a favorite stop), the Spam museum (inside some strip mall at the time, we almost didn’t find it), Wall Drug (of course the signs lured us in) and The Badlands. One trip we affectionately named “eating across America”. It was not our finest hour, although we did learn the joy of fry bread tacos and I learned NEVER to take Candace to Dairy Queen twice in one day.

This bag went with us on our RV trip to the Grand Canyon. On that trip we filled it with pamphlets, AAA Guides, books from the library with all the places on Route 66 she wanted to find and National Park guides. (We always tried to take national park trips, but usually ended up taking photos out of our car windows.) On our Grand Canyon trip, Candace had just had her hip replaced because the cancer had eaten through her bones. She had barely recovered from the surgery and her doctors told her she shouldn’t go. Thank god she had an adventurous spirit. Because every single moment of that trip – all of them will be part of my shared history with Madalyn and Grant. I thank god I had the support of people around me – both financial and emotional to make that trip happen. Even the plague of locust in Oklahoma has made a memory that will never be forgotten.

Of course, this bag, if I look closely, still has sand from our trip to Put in Bay. Last summer we went one last time together. Madalyn, myself and Candace – she drove up to the lake and met me, I drove her back. Just the drive up to the lake exhausted her. Looking back, I realize letting her drive was nuts, but she endured. She brought this bag - only this time it wasn’t full of towels and sunblock, it was full of medicine. She needed an entire canvas bag to hold all of her medicine. Later, after our trip, when we returned to Columbus, she was so exhausted she slept for two days without waking up. She didn’t take any of her medicine. Two days of missed morphine was two too many. That was when I realized, for her, it wasn’t ‘better living through chemistry’ but simply ‘living through chemistry’. But the day we went on our trip to the island? It was sunny and beautiful. I rented a golf cart and Candace, Madalyn and I laughed, went to the winery and drove around the island over and over and over – none of us wanted to leave. We even went junking! I had rented a hotel room by the water. At the end of the day we took the ferry back from the island and went to our favorite restaurant – Phil’s Inn and ate spaghetti. During dinner, Candace got the call that her grandmother Gwen had had a massive brain bleed. Gwen was much more than Candace’s grandmother, Gwen was Candace’s mom, her joy, her love. Hearing that Gwen had a massive brain hemorrhage and likely wouldn’t recover, I asked if Candace wanted me to take her back to Columbus. She said, “No, Gram would want me here by the lake. It was our favorite place. She loved it here and would want me to be here. I can’t take all the drama there. Here, I can make peace with everything.” She cried and cried, but I have no doubt Gwen was the first one to greet her last Sunday. Gwen died the next day. Candace often said that it was the hardest day of her life. Last Sunday was the hardest of mine.

When Candace died on Sunday, there was no funeral. She wanted to be cremated and there were no showing hours. I was with Grant and Madalyn when she died. When I told them, Madalyn asked me to take her to Put-In-Bay. I called the ferry and it was running but the lady at the ferry told me that nothing was open there this time of year. Everything is closed. No golf cart rental, no lobster bisque, nothing. When I told Madalyn, I promised her I would take her this summer. She and Grant and I will go to Put-In-Bay together and rent a golf cart and drive around. Sometime before this summer, her husband Mike and the family are planning a “Celebration of Life” party where everyone can come and share their stories of her. I hope I can make it.

I’ll make sure to bring the bag. I’d hate for it to miss anything.

Tending to the Heart

On Dreams and Other Things...
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I had two dreams last night - both of my closest friend, Candace. In the first dream, she was sitting on the couch in her living room. She was trying to talk to people because she had things she wanted to say. Everyone was gathered around her, and she was telling people how much she loved them and how she was going to miss her family and her friends. She was getting tired but we listened as she spoke to everyone individually as best she could. Then she got sick. She fell on the floor and I covered her with my body and held back her hair and she vomited - over and over. She said she was tired of being sick and I told her I love her - that everyone did. And I held her while she cried.

In the second dream, we were out shopping for Christmas gifts for her children. Grant and Madalyn were with us. Madalyn wanted a specific pair of shoes and we were in our third store looking for them. Candace looked at me and said, "Wow, look at you all getting me out shopping. You always gave me energy when I didn't think I had any". I looked at her and I said, "Honey, you know you aren't really here, right? I mean your body is back in that bed." And she looked at me and she smiled. I fell to the floor sobbing. I said, "How am I supposed to go on without you? How do I do that, because I don't know if I know how to do that." And I full-on, open-heart-chakra started wailing. She waited a moment, smiled at me again, touched  my head with her hand and said, "MK, my body is full of light." And I knew she'd be okay, I just wasn't so sure I would.

For the last two days I have watched as my best friend slowly drifts away. She has not been lucid. She has simply slept while hospice gives her medicine every few hours and people come and whisper their "I love you's" into her ear. I have tended to the kids, and let others tend to the things that needed tending. There has been a lot of 'tending' going on. I have tended to everything... everything except my heart.

I'm sitting in my hotel room right now; my beautiful goddaughter sleeping next to me. I'm trying to cry quietly so I don't wake her up. My bff hasn't eaten or had anything to drink for 4 days. It won't be much longer now.

But in my dreams? She is a ball of light. She is smiling. And she is full of love. She is the long-haired, hazel eyed, cheerleader. She is joy. And my heart knows that even as she transitions to another place, she is not so different there than when she was here.

ETA: 3 hours after writing this blog, my best friend died. I wanted to say she 'transitioned' or she 'passed' or any of those other euphemisms, but her body simply gave out. Her spirit did not.

A Foot in Two Worlds...

104

This morning, as I sit in the airport at 4am, (having not slept) even though I am ready to fly back to Seattle, I have so much I want to write about I feel compelled to get it all down in my blog before it slips through my fingers as I hustle to make connections and flights...

Having half my life on one coast and the other half in the midwest hasn't been easy. I often feel like I have a foot in two very different worlds. It really hit home for me last night. My goddaughter and I were driving to Meijers to pick up some groceries for my BFF so I could make her Christmas side dishes. She ended up hosting Christmas Eve dinner at her house and unlike previous years, I won't be there to help her on the actual day of the event. I have my own Christmas Eve dinner to make clear across the country.

Even as exhausted as my BFF is, she is so gracious she is hosting some of her family for Christmas Eve. This year, however, as she sat in her comfy chair, in her comfy nightgown with her knitted hat covering her very hairless head, she knew that as much as she wanted to, she was too tired to cook or make the dinner happen. Not to fear, I was happy to come up with a plan! I had her make a list, we checked it twice and off my goddaughter and I went to get groceries. I made side dishes for her, got her a ham that is easy to warm up and she can do her best to stay relaxed for her family. I know she felt relief because she told me so. Sometimes, I think because she is so strong and so positive, the people around her don't realize she's actually physically at the limit of what she can do just to be a mom and a wife all the while trying really hard to keep it together because she loves her family and her friends. I know sometimes she's scared and I know she doesn't say anything to most of the people around her because that isn't who she is. But this trip I was reminded again how very glad I am that I have one of my feet in her world. I love her so very much and thank god every moment that she is part of my life.

On the way to the grocery store, I had one of those moments (this trip seemed filled with them) that caught me off guard in its simplicity and how deeply it reached in, grabbed my heart and made me remember what love is and how beautiful love can be. My 11 year old goddaughter M and I were sitting in the car together. We were talking about why I don't care for Justin Beiber and we were laughing over which song I was willing to listen to on his Christmas CD. There were only two songs I was willing to listen to and they weren't the songs she liked. In the midst of our teasing and laughing my boyfriend texted me. It was a short,  sweet little text that said, "Have fun shopping and I'll see you in just over 24 hours!" I glanced down at my phone, read the text, and had one of those warm moments you have early in relationships when you feel all giddy. M looked at me and said, "Let me guess... your boyfriend?" She smiled and had that edgy teasing tone only 11 year olds can get away with. I grinned, a bit embarrassed and said, "Yes, he texted that it's only 24 hours before we get to see each other again." She looked and me and said, "Humph! Tell him to wait! You are MINE for the next 24 hours and no one gets to take you away until then!" And she looked at me with a smile on her face.

And even though she was smiling and we were still laughing with each other, for a moment her smile faltered. In that moment I saw how scary the world can be to an 11 year old... Not that it is easier for a 44 year old, but I recalled in a flash what life feels like at 11. I saw how hard illness can be on a family. You'd think I'd remember this from my own experience growing up, but it's easy to tuck those memories back away from the light when you are an 'adult'. I have better coping skills now and even though the world may seem overwhelming sometimes, I know that I'll be okay; I will put one foot in front of the other and keep moving forward. For her? There are likely many moments the world is big and overwhelming and that 'certainty' isn't so certain.

I wasn't sure what I was going to say, but I looked at her and opened my mouth and said, "M, you don't need to worry about sharing me.  You own a part of my heart that belongs to no one else. It is all yours. Always. There is plenty of my heart to go around. There's enough for you, for him, for your family, for mine... but you have your very own corner and no one can ever take that away. If you ever feel far away, you can touch your own heart and find mine right next to it."

She looked at me, smiled, and the moment passed. But it reminded me of how hard it is to have so much of my love in two places. One foot in Ohio and one foot in Seattle. A part of me wanted to stay, to take care of her and her family. To somehow make them all feel safe. If only I could! Alas, I do not have the power to make that happen. What I do know is that my heart is big enough for both of those places and all of those people. And the more I open my heart to grace, the more I learn about patience and love, the better person I am to the people I love and the healthier I become. Although I haven't been so healthy on this trip, I know even after a stumble that I will get back on that 'healthy' horse. Being healthy is too important now. Not just for my own future, but because I want to be as healthy as possible for as long as possible for those I love.

As I sit in the airport crying because I'm leaving, I also know that I am looking forward to getting home. In the future there will certainly be moments when I feel scared and overwhelmed. I am not so different than that 11 year old. But I also know, like her, I am surrounded by people that have shared parts of their hearts with me. I know whatever the future holds, for me, for my BFF, for my family, the people in my life that I love know that I love them and I know that they love me. Whatever happens in the future I'm no more alone than M is.

They are calling my flight - time to put away this blog and head back to Seattle. It's a 10 hour flight I have booked this trip. Ugh.

Before I go, I want to take a moment to wish you all a blessed holiday season. I hope you have much joy however you celebrate - even if you don't celebrate at all. May the spirit of love and light that seems to shine brightest this time of year, shine in your homes and your hearts.

Peace,
MaryKate

Uncomfortably Numb

94/100

The last four days of my life have been very difficult. In order to explain, it is going to seem like somehow my issues are more important than my best friend's issues. They are not. My life, in comparison to hers has little struggle, little strife and few battles. 

Many of you know my best friend has survived breast cancer for two years. Thursday I found out the cancer had returned and eaten through her hip and was in the bones of her back. She's had severe neuropathy in her face for the past month. She couldn't look at lights or use the computer and was pretty much bed-ridden from the pain.

Yesterday, she found out the cancer had reached her brain. When she called me yesterday morning to tell me, we cried together. I felt my life shift sideways.

My best friend is one of the most amazing women I know. And I know a lot of people. She has always been my cheerleader. Always supported me. Always loved me. We met almost 20 years ago and from the first time our energy connected, for me? It was like the world had been put right. I have not met a woman so strong. I have not met another woman so determined, so loving and so giving. She is my best friend and my life is full because she is in it. Always the first to offer to help, the first to suggest things in my life to support me, the first to rush to my defense, the first to hold my head when I cried over ended relationships, the first to come out swinging by my side. She is an incredible mom, taking her kids to COSI, museums, listening as her daughter grows up to be her own person. Talking about the complicated issues. My best friend and I planned on growing old together at the lake. Driving in our golf carts, mumu's and bath robes over to each other's house early in the misty mornings to drink fresh coffee and gossip about her kid's lives and her grandchildren and our lives. Even now, as I sit here, I can see us in those golf carts up at the lake, tooling around, laughing and loving each other. I am not ready to give that up. I am not ready to give up, period. 

Saturday, we both cried. We didn't say anything about the future. I tried to be strong, but I wan't very successful. By Sunday, she was ready to do whatever she needed to survive. I don't know what that will mean, likely radiation and the surgery on Monday (today) to do a hip replacement. Right now, she can't walk.

My best friend has two children, my beautiful goddaughter and her wonderful brother, 11 and 8. She also has a loving husband who also has his own battle with cancer he's fighting. If anything happens... well... besides being without my greatest cheerleader, as the godparent, my life will change considerably.

I am not ready to concede to cancer. I do not want to look down that road to some end that seems inevitable. At first, when I found out, I held on SO tightly to my life. Thinking that my life mattered. That my job mattered. That my house here mattered. Having had a day or two to process? I realize it doesn't matter. What matters is doing what I am called to do. Because in the end, I am lucky in my life to have a friend like her. I am lucky to have so many wonderful friends in my life, period. But when you make a promise to a friend, especially one involving her children, that promise is your bond. At least in my world it is. And if the day comes I have to navigate that, I will find a way to do that.

I feel grateful to every single one of my 'family' who have supported me. Even people I *just* met have been incredibly kind and loving. To every one of you with a kind word to me and a prayer for her and her family, thank you. To the amazing ladies in my writing group, who found me sobbing in my kitchen two hours after I found out about the brain cancer and who loved me and loved on me and helped me focus on my writing for a while and not my shattered heart? I love every one of you. <3

This chilly Pacific Northwest morning, I have my feet (mostly) back on the ground. I am alive and so is she. Today? That is what I have. Tomorrow? I will deal with tomorrow.

I will be leaving for the summer to spend my time in Ohio with her and her family. She will require 6 weeks of therapy to be able to walk again. I will stay there as long as I can. I won't be able to do the triathlon, but my friend Perry is going to help me ship my bike there, so I will have a bike to ride with my goddaughter this summer. (Thanks Perry! You are such an awesome guy!) I'm going to try to keep up with my swimming and walking. Perhaps when I get home, my friend Trish and I can find another smaller triathlon to do in September. I don't want to give up on the idea of doing a triathlon, I just realize I can't do the one in August.

Again, just in case I haven't had the chance in person, I love you. I say it to my family whenever I talk to them and I am saying it to you, because in the end, it isn't *really* blood that makes a family, is it?

Peace,

MaryKate

Morning Has Broken...

30/100

It's 7:15am. I have 15 minutes to write this, then I need to shower and head to work. Today is my busiest day at work and it will be twice as hard considering I got 4 hours of sleep last night. I got up at 4am this morning and even though my body wanted to crawl back under those soft covers, my brain turned on. I tried to force the issue... sleep isn't usually a problem for me, but this morning? It wasn't happening. Finally at 5:30 I gave up and made some breakfast. Two soft boiled eggs. yay comfort food.

I sat in the quiet and the dark and looked out the window at the fog. I listened to the silence. I decided that sitting and feeling bad wasn't a solution. Hearts don't mend that way. So, I put on my swim suit and went and did laps. Twenty to be exact. Then I did some arm and leg exercises using the water for resistance. It felt good. Being in the water felt good. I suppose I am part mermaid. The water was a comfortable 82 and I watched the sky get lighter and lighter while I swam and enjoyed the early morning.

I would love to write how much better I feel and how the world is a nifty place and the sun and clouds are all singing now. They aren't though. It's still foggy out. I'm still exhausted and today is still my longest day at work. But I do feel better. I feel better because even though I am exhausted, even though I want nothing more than to sit here with my coffee, call in sick and just melt into my chair today, I'm not going to. And I'm not going to because I am one of those lucky people in this world that loves her job. I love what I do, I love where I do it and I love that the people I work with are such an amazing group of people. Every day when I go to work I feel like I am making a difference. I feel like I am touching lives. And every day, I feel like those people and those kids are touching my life as well. My students remind me what it is to be young and while I can live without their drama in my life, seeing all that teen angst reminds me what it is to be young, crazy and full of innocence about the world. Of course every teenager will tell you they aren't innocent... and hey... I've had students that have done things by 13 that I have never done at 43. But they are still innocent. A few know about how hard life can be and a few know about the pain that love often brings.

But most of them? Most of them are young and they believe they can change the world. I want them to do that. And I am grateful each day that they remind me that I am changing the world as well. They remind me not to give up. They remind me that being young and being alive may look different when you are 15, but even at 43 I am still young. And? I am still alive.

For me, I could ask for no better situation in my life. And this morning, I am taking stock in my life and the wonderful and amazing things I have in it. While I may not have 'him', I have family I love, friends I love, people around me I love and a wonderful job that nourishes me and allows me the freedom to teach in a way that I don't burn out and my students are challenged and nourished as well.

And finally? I have my health. And today of all days, the day my best friend has yet *another* surgery to try to reconstruct her breasts I am grateful she is alive and cancer free. And that even though this is the hardest surgery yet, I believe she is strong, and I know God isn't done with her yet. So, I'm taking a moment to send her some love and healing energy as well. Because as selfish as I am, when I called her crying yesterday, the day before she had to have major reconstructive surgery, not only did she listen but she held my space until I stopped being all about me and could hold her space. Together we shared our fears, our concerns and we looked forward to the future together.

So while this isn't an 'easy' morning, it is a new one. And with that note... I have to get moving. It's 7:30 and I have a long day ahead of me.

Peace,

MaryKate

A letter to my goddaughter...

26/100

My Dearest Madalyn,

I just spoke with your mom. She told me you lost a tooth today and you two had the 'talk'. You know, the one where you two talked about how there was no Tooth Fairy, or Santa Claus, or Easter Bunny. Your mom said you two cried, even though you already knew. That you took the jar down from the shelf, put your tooth in it, shook it a little to see the 'fairy dust' your mom used to sprinkle on your bed and said, "Mom, let's not tell dad. It makes him so happy to think I still believe. I love his smile when I discover my gifts. Oh, and, can I help next time Grant loses a tooth?" Your mom said you were amazed at how many people went into making that magic seem real...

I can't even tell you how proud I am of you. Seeing how much it means to your dad and wanting to let him hold on to that joy even if it's just a little longer? Is a pretty grown up thing to do. I know it can be really hard, that moment when you grow up enough to know there is no Santa. I so clearly remember the day *I* found out. I was at my grandmother's house. My dad and I were on a walk. I was ten, just like you. For some reason I asked him if the Easter Bunny was real. For a moment he stopped walking and just looked at me. He sighed a little and we started walking again. I'm pretty sure he paused because it is almost as hard for a grown up tell a child there is no Santa, as it is for a child to find out. My dad looked at me and I will never forget what he said. He said, "Honey, Santa and the Easter Bunny and the Tooth Fairy all live in the land of Imagination. It's a good place and I hope you never stop visiting there."

I didn't really understand my dad when that happened, Mads. I was kind of confused that everyone had lied to me, but I was sooo curious as well. The land of Imagination? What is that? Where is it? How do I find it? I have spent my life seeking the answers to those questions, Madalyn. And you know what I discovered? That while the Easter Bunny, and Santa don't live in our world, that the world of Imagination my dad told me about? Is the most magical world of all. It's the world of dreams, creativity, beauty, passion and hope. 

Madalyn, magic is more than just the Easter Bunny and Santa and the Tooth Fairy. True magic comes when you believe in your imagination. When you trust in your dreams. When you see beauty and magic all around you. I hope with all my heart you remember something. It is something I forget sometimes but maybe you'll remember it better than I. That 'something' is the ability to see magic in every moment of your life. Not the Harry Potter kind, (although that magic is really cool) but the magic of life itself. The magic of seeing each day as the beautiful miracle it is. As the chance it is for you to make your mark on the world. To leave this planet a little better than how you found it. This world is full of mystery and without imagination? You might just miss it all.

No doubt, in school, you will learn all the scientific reasons why the sun comes up and the moon shines. All the logical reasons why the sky is blue and the snow is cold when it comes down. But just because that snow is cold Madalyn, is no reason not to go outside and let it  melt upon your tongue. Because those moments are true magic. The best magic. The magic, that when you take the time to look for it, is all around you every single moment. The magic of parents that love you. The magic of having a brother to share your life with (even when he irritates you sometimes). The magic of having 2(!) boys sit by you at the lunch table. The magic of having friends and a godmother and family who completely adore you. The magic of being part of this world - the magic of being human. 

Magic thrives when you take a moment to appreciate it; when you see that spark of beauty and mystery. And maybe the magic I'm speaking of isn't the 'all-around-the-world-in-one-night-delivering presents' kind, but the story of Santa brings out the magic of the human spirit. It reminds people of the importance of compassion and the value of reaching out and touching the lives of the less fortunate. While Santa may not be real, the legacy of the legend is. 

Magic is in the air, the trees, the water, the stars and most of all, magic is in the heart, Madalyn. And no one can take that away from you. Hold on to thinking miracles and magic are possible! Should you ever forget? I'll be here and I'll remind you. 

No matter what your life brings you, I hope you hold onto that magic and don't lose sight of how it feels to smell a flower, laugh at otters and dance under the stars. I promise if you hold on to your imagination, Madalyn, you'll have the only key you'll ever need to unlock the doorway to The Great Mystery awaiting you. 

With my heart,

MK

ps. Writing this letter Madalyn has helped me touch back into the magic in my own life. For that, I can not thank you enough. Know you and your family are in my thoughts every single day. I can't wait to see you at Christmas. After all, we have cookies to bake (and this year? Perhaps you can help Santa' when he comes!)

A Friend in Need...

12/100

My best friend C. is recovering from cancer. Her husband? Also has cancer. She is about to go into surgery in two weeks (for the 3rd or 4th time now) and he is starting another round of chemo. Financially, emotionally, and energy wise, things have been very difficult for her the last few years, especially since last year when she was diagnosed with breast cancer.

I was talking with her this morning. She said her brother's friend showed up at her door two days ago, telling her God told him to come and see if she needed help. For the first two days, she was sure she was doing 'him' a favor by giving him odd jobs to do around the house (he was off his meds, he clearly didn't know what he was doing, blah blah blah - amazing how we minimize gifts from the Universe). Anyhow, she was lying in bed this morning and she said she heard very clearly that God had sent him to help her. The last time she clearly heard this voice was about a year ago, when while at Disneyland with her family, that same voice told her to lay on the bed and feel her breast for lumps. She's learned to listen to that voice and respect it!  So, this morning she decided to accept the help from the friend and plans on giving him a list of things she needs to get done before her next round of surgery and before he leaves on Monday.

Now believe in God, don't believe in God... this was a breakthrough for her. See, C is one of those people with a mother that wasn't warm, wasn't supportive and has been needy and demanding of C her whole life - her mother always insists on coming first.  For example, C was telling me how when her hair started to fall out? Her mom had come to help her after the surgery and chemo. And while C's hair fell out in clumps, her mom sat and complained about how thin *her* hair was getting. When you grow up in house like that, you learn to anticipate what the other person needs and give, give, give. As a result, C grew up being a good caretaker, while not allowing or even knowing herself how to be taken care of. We were talking about how hard it is for her to accept help. It's easy for her to give help. She has been one of the most supportive, loving and giving people in my life. She has always been the head of my cheerleading team! She is the first one with a casserole when a family needs it, the first to donate her time to girlscouts with her daughter (even after surgery when she could barely lift her arms), first to care of her aunt (who's in a wheelchair), her grandmother (who essentially raised her and who she considers her mother) and truly anyone who needs extra help.

But as a woman, it is easy to be a caretaker - it's expected of us; it is much more difficult to be a 'care receiver'. It's hard to trust when you come from a background (especially one that included foster homes and a crazy step-father) where trust was a rare commodity. Plus? We have this crazy notion that accepting help is admitting to failure. I know for me, in the past, asking for help meant people might think I was incompetent or 'not as cool or clever as I wanted people to think I was".

I don't think I ever realized accepting help was partly about trust. And perhaps it is more than being able to trust; being able to accept help is about being healthy. What I realized for myself was that accepting help meant practicing self care. I help many people. I love it. It makes me feel comforted, competent and it makes me feel fulfilled that I can share a part of myself with someone that needs it. The more I share? The more the world wants to share with me. I don't like when things are demanded of me (my money, my time, my resources), but if someone needs something and I can volunteer? I likely will. Because it makes *me* feel good being able to share some part of myself with another.

Thing is? If I'm not willing to accept that natural flow of give and take? I end up denying myself and someone else the ability to share energy and participate in the dance of the Universe. Why should I be the only one doing the giving and enjoying it? Who am I to deny someone else the ability to give? As long as I respect the generosity of another without taking advantage of another's giving? The flow of energy stays in balance and everyone involved benefits.

For some people, especially people with  narcissistic mothers, it is difficult to believe you deserve to be taken care of, nurtured, and 'helped', especially if you weren't taken care of and nurtured as a child. How can you possibly allow yourself to be nurtured and taken care of as an adult when you don't even know what that feels like? C, by allowing someone to help her, is participating more fully in her own journey of recovery. Not just from cancer but from always being the one to 'give'. She is learning to truly open up to the flow of energy of the Universe and engage in the natural reciprocation of her lifetime of selfless giving.

It took me a long time to learn to receive. But once I did? The energy exchange was amazing and I see the flow every day in my life. People seem to come into my life just when I need them. I am grateful every single day that I am part of this cycle of love and being loved. And I practice saying thank you as often as possible.

But you have to be willing to ask  or at least be able to acknowledge you can't do it all alone. Then? You have to be willing to accept the help. Sometimes the universe offers you help even before you know you need it! Learning to trust yourself to say, "Yes, I could use some help with this task, Thank you!" is a huge accomplishment in being healthy!

Peace,

MaryKate

Thin may be in, but healthy's where it's at!

3/100

A friend of mine posted a question to me on my facebook page (I'm pretty sure she'll be okay with me reposting it ;) )

Read your blog so far. Yes, accountability is absolutely the key. I would be curious to know more what issues you discovered were foundational to your love of food because I've never been able to figure that out about myself.


This blog? Isn't actually a response to her question - although I am sure eventually I'll share some of those issues. *lol* It's about the initial reaction I had to her question.

This friend of mine, to me, is thin. When I read her question, I thought to myself, why is she asking me about weight issues?... she's beautiful! She has a body I would *love* to have. So, while I was making my dinner tonight, I processed some of my reactions to her question. I started to think about some of the other women I work with and that are in my life. So many of them seem to be constantly worried about what they eat, how they eat, when they eat, if they eat...

I thought about when I first had the idea to start a '100 days of being healthy' blog. It was this summer; my goddaughter's girl scout troop was going to Cedar Point and she asked me to go. I panicked. You know how they have height requirements for rides where in order to ride, you have to be a certain height? Well, at Cedar Point now, they have 'size' restrictions. They have a sample 'seat' at the start of the line for the ride. If you get in the seat and it won't lock? You can't get on the ride. Seven years ago, when I went to Cedar Point, I barely fit into some of those seats. That was thirty pounds ago. I couldn't imagine the humiliation of my goddaughter looking at me and me having to say to her "Sorry babygirl, I can't go on this ride with you." Mind you, she wouldn't have been upset, she would have likely shrugged her shoulders and said, 'Let's find a different one"... or "Can I go with my friends then?" But I couldn't handle having to face the embarrassment of it. I also knew a whole day of walking around Cedar Point in the sun? Would be too much for me. So I didn't go with her.

When I think about being overweight (and according to my BMI I am morbidly obese - ouch it stings just writing that), I think about what that means in my world. Issues with airplanes, issues with rides, issues with some theater seats, issues with chairs, issues with certain beds, issues with how and where I sleep, issues with blood sugar and issues with my general health. What I hadn't thought about is that a woman you might look at and think "wow, she's so thin and beautiful" might very well have issues with her body. Heck, she is likely to have issues with her body. Those issues are probably different than the ones I struggle with, but just as valid and just as difficult for her to navigate.

Getting healthy for me isn't about getting thin. There are some amazingly beautiful women that I work with and others that I am friends with that have just as 'big' of body issues as I have. Being 'thin' has nothing to do with letting go of body issues - it's no magic cure. As my sister once said to me, "There's no such thing as emotional bypass surgery." Getting thin doesn't cure anything. I am not writing this blog and eating better and exercising more to 'get thin'. Because clearly ' being thin' has nothing to do with being happy with your body.

I'm going on this journey so that I like myself better. So that I wake up feeling better and so that I can go into a store, buy clothes and not hate or want to scream at or be incredibly depressed about what I see. What I 'weigh' isn't as important to me as the 'way' I see myself. I'm learning to appreciate who I am and that is what truly matters.

Well... and fitting into the seats at Cedar Point! Because Mads? Next summer? You better be ready!

Peace,
MaryKate