Maybe it's time for it to be all about me...

It's been a rough 4 years and 8 months. For a long time, it needed to be about other people. The first year, it needed to be about Jim. I wouldn't have wanted to be any other place than standing beside my brother as he battled cancer. As Jim's health declined, so did all of ours. Stress has a way of eating at you from the inside. I filled the space in my body that stress took away with 10 pounds. The second year, it needed to be about family. Again, I wouldn't have wanted to be any other place than standing beside my family grieving together. Our health declined. Grief also has a way of eating at you from the inside. I filled the space grief took away with another 10 pounds. Then came the eggshells. You know the eggshells. The ones you walk on so as not to offend.

Kate's dating. Ouch. I'm happy for you. I know it's good for you.
Kate's engaged. Double ouch. I'm happy for you. I hope he's a good man for you and the kids.
The kids are experimenting calling him dad. Triple-diple ouch. I'm happy for them. It's not fair they grow up without a dad.

You see, it's not about me. It's not about how terribly sad I am that Kate and the kids don't have Jim. It's not about the pain that goes through my heart knowing the kids will call someone else "Dad." It's not about how awful I feel that life has to go on without him. We all want him back, but that's not going to happen. It's about lives needing to go on without him. ("Easy for you to say" says the heart to the mind.)

But see here's the thing...I believe now that it might need to start being all about me. Holding it all inside - 10 lbs of stress, 10 lbs of grief, for four + years has culminated in one very unhealthy body. One that feels 10 years older than her chronological age. I'm beginning to realize that it has to be all about me before I lose me altogether.

In this very public forum, I'd like to thank my angel, Lynn. She was there in the beginning of Jim's cancer journey. After he died, she patiently waited for me. Many times approaching me, but finding my heart not ready to make space for me again, she quietly stepped back to wait some more. Yesterday, she came to me like a butterfly. I was finally ready to see the beauty of me that awaits. It's going to be a journey back to health. I imagine it won't always be easy, but yesterday I stepped onto that path with Lynn. It's finally time for it to be all about me.

"I'm harder on you because life will be harder on you"

Tough words from my dad. I was teenager at the time and complained to him about something not being fair between Jimmy and me. I don't even remember what it was I complained about, but I sure do remember those words. I also remember the words that followed. The ones that told of how he watched life be unfair to his mom and my mom because they were women. He didn't want to see his daughter have the same life as his mom. He knew I had to be tough. In his mind, tougher than Jimmy, because I was going to need to stand up to a lot of crap thrown my way because I was female. I was going to have to fight to be seen as smart and allowed in honors and AP classes. I was going to have to fight to get into a technical program at college. I was going to have to fight for the same pay for the same job as a man. I was going to have to stand up to overt and subtle sexist prejudice every day. For the most part, he was right.

I share this story because my parents were my parents. Their job was to raise a self-assured, smart, compassionate, productive adult. They never tried to be my best friend. I had plenty of those my own age. As I've raised my own children, I realize that it is difficult to provide parental guidance and discipline. It's so much easier to "let it slide" and hope for the best. However, that always seems to backfire. I've learned along the way that discipline isn't punishment. It's a natural consequence to an action. Sometimes those natural consequences are just as uncomfortable for me as they are my kids. When I start to squirm, I remember how much love was in my dad's voice as he explained why he was so hard on me sometimes. I was his little girl. I'm sure he was thinking about how difficult it is to be a parent then too.

I'm grateful for the example my parents set. I try every day to be a good parent to my children. They won't always like it, but I hope someday they'll say the words to me that I now say to my parents - "Thank you for being a parent. Thank you for showing me how to stand up for myself, to understand that actions have consequences, that I need to treat others fairly, and that no matter what, you will always be there for me and my kids."

Melissa's 300lb. plan

My former running partner, Melissa, jokingly refers to her food and exercise routine as the 300lb plan for it's inconsistency and her lack of motivation. I've been on that plan since January 10th, the day after the Disney Marathon. I've basically stopped running. Oh about once a week, I force myself on to the dreadmill to try and convince myself I haven't totally abandoned running, but my heart just isn't in it. I'm now trying to decide "Am I a runner?"

I've never run for the pure joy it brings me. I started running because Melissa and I got bored with walking and she said "Hey, I have this run/walk plan to do a 5K." That was in 2005. I kept running on and off over the past 5 years to help me deal with the stress of Jim's illness and grief of his death. Then I ran to complete the marathon we planned to do together - some unfinished business with Jim. Now I feel like I'm done. I don't see anything there for me now. I've never been an athlete. I'm a back-of-the-packer. I've never cared about becoming faster. Oh sure, the competitor in me does try and beat a previous time at races, but for the most part, running was just plodding along trying to go a particular distance.

I've considered that this is depression talking. It's still cold and icy outside. The sun looks inviting, deceiving you into believing it's not frigid out. You open the door and get that blast of cold reality. I have three friends within the past two months diagnosed with cancer - all beginning that difficult journey in treatment; one for the second time. The cancer door has been opened again. The cold, frigid air chilling me to the bones.

Maybe someday soon, the Spring warmth will entice me onto the roads again. Mother Nature will once again beckon me with her promise of growth and renewal. "Come" she'll say, "Let me soothe your hurt." But for now, I just want to hunker down against this icy blast...trying to keep my heart and soul from freezing up, and wondering "Am I a runner?"

I'm tired and I want it to stop

In 2006, my brother was diagnosed with Stage IV colon cancer. He fought for a year before the beast won. It was an awful year. The stress of waiting for test results. The highs when treatment was working. The lows when treatment stopped working. The fear of the unknown - What's next? What's left to try? Can we win? The nightmares, the cold sweats, the panic. One would believe that once you lose the battle, taking the one you love, that cancer moves on. But cancer truly sucks. Once it invades your life, it doesn't ever let go. You're changed by it. It becomes part of your subconscious, ready to jump to your conscious thoughts at any second. The pain courses through your veins, lying in wait to seize up your heart. Every time you hear of someone with a cancer diagnosis, your feel for them and their families. You know the fight against the beast is difficult, tiring, painful, and it now has more people in its clutches. Your heart breaks. Cancer chips another little piece of your heart. It leaves another wound.

I want it to stop hurting the people I know and love. I want it to go away. I'm tired and I want it to stop.

Disney Marathon Weekend

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The Disney Marathon

1210 Days missing my brother.
181 Marathon training days.
74 Marathon training runs.
462.96 Training miles.
5 hours, 51 minutes, 17 seconds Time to run/jog/walk 26.2 miles.
$3,428.90 Money this effort raised for C3: Colorectal Cancer Coalition.
82 Generous souls who made a donation in Jimmy's memory and supported each and every step I took over that 26.2 miles.
17 Amazing people who made the trip to Disney World to wear "Remembering Jim" t-shirts.