Thriving Past Cancer: Marine's Journey

I know it has been a long time since my last post, but I’ve been abiding by the direct orders of my eastern and western medical practitioners. My oncologist, acupuncturist, life coach, and even family practitioner has each in their own right ordered me to “live.”  After granting me a clean bill of health, I can’t help but ask, “What now?”  They have each in their own time and turn responded with the same directive, “Live!”  Simple.  One word.  Yet, so complex.  When unpacked, intricacies emerge. What does it mean? How does one forget the trauma of the past? How does one live? Why is there not a manual for this when there's a manual for everything else?  It has taken me over a year to realize that there is no one answer and there is no one way. It is a journey, unique and different for each person.  My healing journey started this last summer. While in Scotland, my BCF (which is how she likes to refer to herself, otherwise known as, my Bad Choice Friend)

There is a time shift that occurs post trauma. One feels as though they no longer completely belong to the world and yet they are here. Reality shifts, perspectives broaden. Magic happens. This is where I have been since my last post. I thought my blogs were over. It stretched through the trauma and I came out on the other end, and that people no longer wanted or needed to hear of my inner workings. But, in the months that have passed people have reached out asking why I have stopped writing, what is happening, and urging me to continue. It wasn’t until this last week when I lost myself in  The Book of Joy (A collaborative masterpiece by two of this planet’s most prominent spiritual leaders: Desmond Tutu and the Dalai Lama) that I realized that events shape us. However, we hold the ultimate power. We can either see any given moment as life ruining or empowering. We can see the negative and rip at it, or we can take a step back and explore alternate perspectives.  I learned thi

When I posted in late June, I stood on the brink of a vast adventure in Scotland, an experience meant to mark the end of a chapter embedded with a mysticism only one's imagination can concoct. Spending time with  Magical Mary  and  Life Changing Liza  completed the end of something huge, or so I thought. It represented the finish line and the runner in me saw the end glimmering with hope.  Scotland held transformative powers and going there, spending time with kindred brethren would undoubtedly cleanse me of any leftover toxicity. I built it up in my mind, as we all do of events we look forward to.  I envisioned how it would feel to finally put my death dance with cancer behind me, to stand atop the highlands and inhale the fresh breath of life and know that all would be okay.   Sorry, this isn’t Hollywood! One moment doesn’t carry such power, especially when that moment has been shaped by our expectations. Disney characters exist in the realm of all things Disney, and

June 26th is anther one of those days which resonates in volumes, at least for me. It goes up there with September 11th, December 25th, and January 1st. Year in and year out, each of these days mark a day in which short term memories have transformed into long term ones. We all have similar days, our birthdays, the day our children were born, the day a friend/parent died. I remember numerous June 26ths, some quite fondly for it is the day I married the love of my life. Nineteen years ago today, we became a team, for better or for worse, he became the Yin to my Yang. Somewhere in between 1999 and 2017 the whirling of life  picked us up and tousled us about. Some anniversaries were marked by dinners and presents, especially the first few while others slipped from memory like a dream. Ryan was as guilty of this as I. Within the comfortable walls of our relationship, marking days became irrelevant, unnecessary. Until June 26th, 2017 left us no option. Last June 26th was the day of my

I was seventeen when my niece, Sarin Wakimian, was born. I was transitioning between teenhood and adulthood, preparing myself for endless college possibilities, planning my perfect future, questioning life, because obviously that's something we humans love doing: would I travel the world and become a famous reporter, write novels in a cabin off of Walden Pond, or treat patients in a psych ward somewhere? I dreamt, as all children do. And I dreamt big. Sarin penetrated my dreams. She drew me out of my teenage egocentricism and brought into my world a freshness I had yet to experience. I held her, played with her, and loved her intensely. Two years into my college revelry, Sarin began exhibiting physical ailments that impacted her life. Inflammation hindered her ability to walk and instead of toddling and running around she began to withdraw into her own hell. A frown replaced her smile as her reality shifted. She slowly lost her mobility and just when children are preparing f

If you ask any kid what he/she wants to be, they all claim they want stardom. They want to become famous you-tubers or gamers, fame being the underlying constant. I dare you to examine your own desires. What makes you happy? Praise? A bonus on your paycheck? Recognition? A bigger house? A nicer car?    Most of us grew up playing The Game of Life and what we aspired to achieve on that board game has engrained itself upon our souls as truth. Somehow, we’ve become brainwashed into thinking we need and want more.   I don’t know about you, but I have an inner drive that reminds me of a wind-up toy. There were times in my life that I felt the urge for more and went for it. Two masters-degrees later, a home, a husband, a great job, and two kids to boot, I’ve realized that I’ve been playing the adult version of “LIFE.”  Cancer helped me pause the game. It helped me sit back and reevaluate the rush towards the end. Why are we headed there with blindfolds on? Why aren’t we enjoying