The Words…

breast cancer thirties 30s 30's dog dogs wiener german shepard stage 3c young kids family miniature dachshund summer jeep

Last ride of the summer with the boys & my pups…

I’m going to try something new here.  Rather than focus on a premeditated topic, I am just going to write.  Crazy, huh?

You could say writing was an activity I once loved, but this wouldn’t be altogether accurate.  Sure, as a child/teenager/young adult I enjoyed it on a level that seemed foreign to some of my peers.  Was I passionate about it?  Of course.  But it was more than this.  Writing was almost akin to eating or taking a breath for me.  It was something I had to do to survive.

I know I sound like an idiot.  Obviously you can’t live without eating (though God knows I’ve pushed these limits in the past) or taking a breath.  Not writing can’t possibly be as perilous for one’s body as trying to survive without food or oxygen, of course.  But it was my soul that would cling feverishly to this outlet.

What I’m trying to tell you is that writing was something I needed to do.  It was strangely painful to not write.  It was as if the words needed a place to go and if I didn’t let them out, they would build up inside me until I felt emotional pain.  Physical distress.

Writing was my coping mechanism.  My escape.  My salvation.

I needed to write the words that flowed from my mind, my heart, through my once capable young hands.  And, equally, the words needed me to set them free.

breast cancer thirties 30s 30's young Salvador Dali tree museum tampa florida wish young stage 3c IIIc ribbons

The Dali Wish Tree: “This wish tree, streaming with ribbons, carries the wishes of our visitors and community. We invite you to contribute a wish to the tree, and to be part of the cultural tradition that extends back to Hindu and Scottish rites. In all its forms, the wish tree invites and holds our fond hopes.” [Photographed during our lovely visit to The Dali Museum in Florida (with & thanks to jme & bryan), just before we added our wishes, our words, to the tree’s hope-laden branches.]

But somewhere along the way, this relationship changed.  Life changed.  My desire/need (or whatever it was?) to write is not like this anymore {or that’s what I like to tell myself, at least}.  At some point, writing became an obligation, a job, a necessity of another sort.  And the words that once needed to break free from my mind, my soul, were trapped inside.  Bottled up.  Locked away.  Dusty and hidden, but not quite forgotten.

I hadn’t thought about this in ages.  Until just a few minutes ago, that is, when I found myself once again thinking about stopping here to read your kind words and to tackle one of the tens/hundreds of cancer-y topics I have swirling around in my brain, topics that I feel should be addressed in these “pages” because of their importance.

And, once again, I thought about closing my blog tab in an attempt to forget about writing until the next time I’d find myself in front of the computer screen.   Yes, the next time, when I could once again procrastinate and put off tackling the weighty topics I know should be addressed, topics that I will likely continue to attempt to deal with despite the gnawing pain that emanates from the words trapped inside my soul, the words that long to be set free.

18 thoughts on “The Words…

  1. You don’t have to write about cancer-y things. I like to draw and paint furniture. When I’m most content doing it is when I don’t think about it too much. How much it sucks or whatever. I also used to write a lot more than I do. Then a bunch of bad stuff happened and the artistic part of me went underground, in survival mode. It’s a paradox really. Salvation is in the thing we can’t seem to do because it hurts too much. But that’s my story.

    I love the Wish Tree.

    Liked by 3 people

    • Thanks so much, Suzanne… I’m so sorry you’ve had so many bad things happen and that the artistic part of you had to go into survival mode. I think you described the feelings perfectly. It really is a paradox…
      My wish for you is that life will be far kinder in the future…and that you will again be able to do the artistic things you enjoyed. You deserve this at the very least…and so much more!

      Thank you so much…


  2. Pingback: The Words… | doglover76

  3. Hey, beautiful, it’s great to see that you’ve posted! Sometimes the thoughts and the feelings can’t be put into words, because they have to kick around in your head for a while before you can put enough order in to write them out. And sometimes, writing isn’t the answer. I’m still in a similar period of writer’s block – lots of ideas, lots of posts written, but somehow I can’t press on that publish button… Go with the flow – when you need to write, write, and if you don’t, then don’t worry… It’s a bit like smiling, if you force it then it won’t feel right.
    Have a beautiful Christmas with your little men. Hugs to you xoxo


  4. I would love to talk with you. I recently had a mastectomy with level two axial lymph removal (37 lymph nodes removed) and don’t know anybody else that has experienced that. Or the pain from nerve damage, or a seroma that just won’t go away, the lack of feeling, and hypersensitive skin, compression suits, constant drainage and pain!!!


    • Dear Tanya,Thank you for your message. I would be happy to talk with you any time… I’m so sorry it has taken me so long to see your message…Because life has been especially painful & overwhelming, I have not been back to my blog in a very long time. I finally made the decision to return tonight & was glad to see your comment, a reminder that it is important to write & to share my story, to share our stories… If you’d still like to connect, please email me: & just mention your name in the subject line so I’m sure to see your message. Thank you & best wishes…


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