Did You Ever Think Life Was Gonna Be This Way?

*to the tune of Don Maclean's "American Pie" Well, well, well! It's been a while, hasn't it? I got sidetracked as the second half of May engulfed me in a wave of "school's (almost) out, camps are starting and you should have registered in January" insanity, and after a couple of weeks, I realized that no one was asking me where the next blog update was and it was both a disappointment (for obvious reasons) and a relief (because I'd been starting to obsess a bit over the idea that I had to post consistently). So then I just started navel gazing rather than thinking and writing. I took a mental vacation, I suppose. It was sort of nice! But I discovered that the reason why I don't take mental vacations very often is because I get a little too cozy with my life-long nemesis, anxiety, and her BFF, depression. So the mental vacation is over and you'll all just have to pretend you're really eager for regular installments if I fall of...

Spoiler Alert: I guess it's possible: I finally complained too much. But I had no choice, with the complaining and the wailing and the gnashing of teeth and so on! I've spent about $9 kajillion on skincare solutions but my skin would not play nicely. I can't even believe I'm saying this, but it's not even the acne all over my face that has been bothering me the most. It's the fact that I feel like a cicada nymph about to become a glorious locust, but without the glorious locust payoff. Don't know what I'm talking about? Feast your eyes on this: If that's not interactive enough for you, it appears that you can buy empty cicada shells in a fancy jar on Etsy . And then you, too, can feel what it's like to have my skin, at least a little...by putting one of the shells on your thumb? (Seriously, though, what is going on with this, Etsy? I feel like I just stumbled into the dark underbelly of the craft world.)  Anyhoo, I'm gonna wh...

I have the tendency to leave out the messy, sad, difficult parts of my everyday life with cancer. The reasons for that are legion, but they boil down to one: we all like to present our best selves. No one likes to feel vulnerable and naked to the world. I don't want people feeling sorry for me or pitying me. There are only a tiny handful of people that I really open up to about this terrible disease, and that's because it's a huge burden and frankly, I don't want to trust just anyone with sharing my load.  But I don't want everyone to think life is all rainbows and sunshine, either.  When one of my closest friends, who loves me very much (and the feeling is mutual), urged me to stop obsessing over certain things and gave me a well-intentioned pep talk about how the big crisis was over and it was time to find my "new normal"...well, I knew I had some 'splaining to do. If someone that close to me thinks that we're all done with cancer around her...

Since my last scan, I've been thinking a lot about the next phase of my life.  I've had life-saving medical intervention that has allowed me to banish almost all of my cancer. I've spent some serious time relaxing and pampering myself, and I have the energy and recovering fingernails (they kept splitting!) to prove it. And now I'm ready to move on, to open a new chapter in my life. I feel as though my future wellness is really in my own hands right now. Do I want to spend my life "managing my illness" - or do I want to commit myself to enhancing my wellness? Um, I'll take the latter, thankyouverymuch!! My new approach consists of four "buckets," if you will: nutrition, exercise, mindfulness, and intellectual engagement . I'm not becoming Buddha or anything (yet!), but I've read enough that I'm convinced that a vegan, low-sugar diet is going to serve me best. I'm walking every day and committed to enjoying yoga again 3-4 times ...

...My next CT scan has been scheduled for October 10th. I probably won't post about it until the weekend though, so don't ask. xo First up: Tightrope Walking Across the Uneven Bars Don't worry, Nadia. There's a mat for when you fall. (Can you believe there aren't any "anxiety olympics" images? Quick, someone make me a sketch.)

It's been a while, because my brain has been too scattered to focus on an actual book, but I like to post recent book reviews I've written, especially when the book in some way intersects with the rest of my life. Today, The Light Between Oceans : If you're looking for a book to break your heart a little, this is the one to read. A sweet young couple pines for a family as they live alone on a lighthouse island, and one day, fate plays its hand and brings them a baby, which they decide to keep. The decision to do so winds up destroying their quiet and isolated lives.  Is it a happy ending? I don't know. Is it a heart-true and lovely story? Yes, absolutely. It's very easy to put yourself into the positions of the various protagonists, and every avenue is an awful one, with agonizing consequences. I was pleasantly surprised that the story stayed strong all the way to the end, after the obviously discovered denouement. That's difficult to achieve, but Ste...

There's this crazy amazing thing that happens when you cry out for help. Within minutes of my last post, I discovered someone had sent me a card game in the mail; I received comforting (and in at least one case, perfectly bossy) texts from several dear friends, all of whom made me laugh even though I was also crying; and I got plenty of internet love, too. Plus my dad called to tell me to ditch the edema and keep the boots, and he threw in a bonus idea of what to make for dinner. So you know what I did? I discovered a Xanax on the floor, so obviously I took that.  Already feeling a bit better, I proceeded to watch the "The One with Ross's Sandwich" episode from  Friends  while taking a bubble bath, and then I got out of that bathtub and put on decent clothes - I even wrestled those damn boots on, too. Next, I started walkin'. Because that's what you do after you finish your middle of the day bubble bath pity party and put on kickass boots. (And also what you...

It took me a little longer than usual, but I've finally finished Chimamanda Ngoze Adichie's Americanah . A bit of a feast, really: This is a big book. A book of lives lived and those left to wither, a book about love and superficial - or maybe not - romance, a book that left me full of more questions than answers, a book about race in America and life in Nigeria, a book that made me feel nice and full. It took me four days to read it, which is forever for me, but I didn't mind, because there's plenty to think about and the writing is good. It's long, but it's tight - the story doesn't meander and it doesn't fade. Once I let go of my idea that the book was about the immigrant experience in America and life in the post-9/11 West, which it's not although the back cover marketed it as such (bastards) - Adichie made efficient use of my time. Since I'm neither black nor an immigrant, I can't really say for certain whether she truly "g...