Monday, September 30, 2013

remembering my manifesto.

i spent a long time deciding what words would find their way 
into my manifesto.
i wanted to remind myself,
simply and clearly
of what i stood for.
what i believed with my whole heart.

those phrases are here

and because my manifesto
was only  written on my blog
and i don't go back and read over my posts regularly
(but i do occasionally)
i hadn't seen the words for what turned out to be too long.
i had forgotten some.

last week was tough.
and i needed some reminders.
i went searching to remember and return to the roots of me.
and i laughed when i remembered that i need to always carry benadryl.
now that i am eating again, that is a daily necessity.
and i had forgotten that i promised to light candles.
and so i have begun again.

the little things.
the ones we don't think matter, but do.
snail mail.
started that again a few weeks ago
and my goodness i felt grounded.

the big ones.
loving big and listening to my heart whispers.
so glad i put those on there.
so grateful i want to remind myself daily to be who i am meant to be.

the manifesto got copied out
all hurried and messily into my current journal
and i am finding myself returning to it again and again.
checking in on myself,
 remembering what makes my heart sing, 
using the words as boundaries and "atta girl!"
for guiding my days.

i appreciate this space,
even as i return to it less and less
because it allows me to look back,
to recall, to remind, to notice patterns, growth and stories of my days.

do you have a manifesto?
a guiding word?
{mine is stretch this year}
i recommend the practice.

Friday, September 20, 2013

"make yourself into a project"

he has said it before and i don't think i listened.
"make yourself into a project. you love projects"
and yet,
despite the love i have for such endeavors,
i have found myself  still resisting
wanting to meet myself 
and my self care
at an angle, 
sideways, not head on.
not honestly.


i wish i could tell you,
tell myself 
why i am so resistant to putting physical wellness in the center of my life.
i search through my stories,
looking for clues and of course i find them-
the pieces are all there
and i understand and i "do the work"
because i am a friend of the emotional and mental work of wellness
 i make baby steps
and there are moments of wisdom and breakthru
but i don't really do anything in the physical realm

(other than take my medicine)
(which is actually a huge break thru for me)

until the cycle repeats
 and i find myself
once again buried beneath the rest of my life.

does this happen to you as well?

i am in love with my life.
that's an important truth that i want to shout from the rooftop.
i have returned to a schedule that i have carefully chosen
and fully participated in the making of.
i work because i choose to, want to, love to
i am doing my schooling because it is important to me.
i participate fully with my family
 and consider each of those moments,
( regardless of how intense and weary, 
how late the nights, how long the walk)
 we share to be a gift.
i forget about myself.
the physical part of myself.
 i avoid the reality that i am brand new into a remission
that may or may not stay with me.
i need a plan.
i need to be a project. 
i want to figure this out.

seeing the truth of the situation is freeing.
saying that i struggle with wellness allows for acceptance and grace.
now i move onward.
project strong tania
i shall call it.

i see a new journal in my future
and maybe some running shoes
(for walking)



Wednesday, September 18, 2013

oh the stories i could tell

from August.
i am a tad late but in keeping with a series
here it is.

i really liked the stories May held for me.

Sunday, September 15, 2013


sweet Sunday
the day for sleeping in
and drinking tea
for visits to book stores with my mama
endless games played on the floor in the living room
for crock pots filled with stew
and warm fuzzy blankets
{the first day this september}

sweet Sunday
the day for early to bed
and late night journal spilling
for anticipations and determinations 
a bright shiny week ahead.

sweet Sunday
my most favorite day

Saturday, September 14, 2013


i keep picturing a bridge,
long and rustic, missing planks.
you know the type?
i imagine it sways a little, and is surrounded by deep forest.
there is probably a raging river underneath.
west coast walking bridge
 crossings are often wet and slippery.
and i never seem to have the right shoes.
 it is the bridge between illness and remission
and it is hard to navigate.
i made the naive, optimistic assumption
 while i was so ill that i would leap 
magnificently into remission when it arrived
and well, that has not been the case.

but remission is here. and i take each day it gives me
thankful and somewhat stunned
 as i eat a sandwich, 
or pop a piece of fruit into my mouth.
and i carry on with minimal pain,
 renewed energy and padding on my bones.

{i can eat most anything!}

the challenge of navigating the transition has been very hard.
{does that sound like i am resisting remission?}
i am not.
it is just  this complex mixture of gratitude and grief.
saying goodbye to one life, making room for a new one,
one that looks oh so different than i imagined. 

even in remission there is care to be taken,
side effects to navigate, expectations of myself that need to be considered.
i need to stay in this place of wellness
and that will only happen if i learn to be a gentle caretaker of myself.

{this lesson of care continues to be hard for me, even now, even after all of that learning}

i keep losing my footing in the gaps that are still present
the gaps of self care, 
the gaps of "too much" 
the gaps of false expectations
and i find myself stumbling forward, clinging, crawling,
 willing myself across.

"go all the way" 
i whisper to myself in the toughest spots.
 "it is bright over there"

the pace is frustratingly slow 
and i am having to be mighty, mighty patient with myself.

i am here. 
tentative and slightly bruised for completely different reasons
but the words are returning to me.
17 pages in 4 days have dumped themselves into my journal,
scrambling over one another to find their spot.
i go back, after i have written, trying to make sense of it,
circling, underlining, adding in with new colour.
i am grateful.
for the gift of bread breaking and the spilling of words.
oh so grateful.