I like going to the doctor. Yes I do.

Yesterday, I had my quarterly check-in with my oncologist. It's already two years (this week) since I started my cancer treatment--surgery, months of chemo, radiation and Herceptin treatements. Since January, ten months, ago I have entered the (hopefully) final stage of treatment--hormone therapy, 10mg of Tamoxifin, as the long-term strategy for keeping the cancer at bay...and so the ride continues.

I've come to look forward to my oncology check-ins. For the record, I like going to the doctor. I always have. I like the attention. I like being taken care of. I like, if only for 15 precious minutes, being the focus of one's intentions.  I also like that these check-ins are milestones. They're an opportunity to reflect on what's passed--an easy marker to look back over 3-4 months and acknowledge the changes, the progress, the improvements to my health and my life.

Yesterday Garrett said, "Looking at my notes from our last meeting in June, I wrote the word 'lousy' and not much more, but today you look great. What's the change?" Four months ago, I was in the process of exiting a job I no longer cared about and about to let go of my home in Pennsylvania. The pressure was still high. I was in the middle of things. I was tired and not much else. But since leaving the job and letting go of a dream that seemed to have run its course, I feel lighter. Things have opened up. My time is my own and I'm now in a position to focus only on what interests me. In this mother-culture of productivity, what a luxurious position it is. Gratitude in spades or as my friends like to say, I am now in a position to deal only with issues of getting from good to better.

Here, two years later, there's a million things still to notice, but also nothing in particular. Writing today is realizing that all of this experience, in some way, is a by-product of the cancer ride and that I want to acknowledge this time, where the impact of cancer feels like both a distant memory, yet also a low, quiet constant hum in my consciousness allowing me the chance to acknowledge change and progress and provides an extra reason to say thank you to all the things that make it possible for me to be here thriving and growing.

The unintended benefit of any dis-ease is that when it goes away, feeling its absence is more noticeable and gives way to most sublime pleasure around simply being. I'm feeling a lot of that lately. Let's see where it takes me.

Ode to Wanting More

Two days ago I quit my job. 

Scratch that. Two days ago I officially turned my attention in a new direction. What I'm looking towards is unknown but it's a direction fed by desire rather than familiarity or defaults. I have chosen this because I want something else. What it is I'm not sure. I feel lost but only a little. I feel stunned, uncomfortable, awake and hopeful. I feel present and unaccounted for. I feel hesitant but completely sure that I'm right and exactly where I want to be. I'm looking forward, towards wanting more. 

A week from now I will sell my house.

Scratch that. A week from now will be the end of a beautiful dream I once had and lived. I have gratitude that what I gained from this time will push another set of dreams forward. I have such gratitude for my home and all that it has provided me. Having spent more time building it than living in it could be ironic, but I've had the entire experience available to me for these five and a half years. And for all of it I am grateful  I have gratitude for the relationships it has provided—in getting to know my brother better as he helped me build it—watching him grow in confidence, skill and creativity. I'm grateful for my mother and her willingness to put her neck on the line. I'm grateful for her pushing to get exactly what she wanted. In doing so, helped me see what I want too. I'm grateful for getting closer to Omar, my friend, my tenant, my lawyer and my baker. He brought such warmth and generosity into every corner of that house. He made it a home and folded in his warmth. I couldn't have asked for a more kind and lovely person to inhabit that space. I'm grateful for every person who laughed in this house, who shared a meal, who took a bath, slept in comfort, sat on a porch, who raised a glass. I am grateful to everyone one of you. Your love and friendship is in there.

I'm grateful for what I've learned about building a house, managing a crew, running a budget, and turning a profit. I made every mistake possible and for this, I am grateful. I know how to do it better next time. And there will be a next time. I am grateful that I will walk away with more than I started. I'm grateful I had so much fun every single day of construction and because of that fun, the dirt, the headaches, the back aches, the cold, and crummy food, all of it seemed right. I can only hope to do it again. 

I am grateful that I wanted this house, this home. I'm grateful that I got what I wanted and that because of it, I have beautiful memories about what it feels like to really want and love life.