So apparently, I’ve magically turned into Rapunzel since I was diagnosed with breast cancer about a year and a half ago.  Makes total sense, right?  Nope.  At least not to the naked eye.

………

My personal Rapunzel Story: 

Part 1:

I began the bumpy road really looking the part (long blonde locks a-flowing).

Then upon my first major MRI with contrast, I found myself locked up in my bedroom “tower”, locked away from my fam for 24 hours.  All that they injected in me made me “radioactive and not safe to be around children.”  What the??   Texting the hubs from my room all day as he got off work to come care for our then 7 month old Snuggles, I blurted, “I don’t do Radioactive Rapunzel well. I’m busting outta here!”

Fast forward a month or so, and I did just that.  I busted out of the scary feeling of slowly watching my hair fall into my breakfast and drinks, fall onto my pillow and into my mouth while sleeping, and be swept from the floor as I sprinkled blonde pieces of my most recent transition haircut (The blue and pink Mohawk! #RockOn #StillProudOfThatDo) and began the head shaving ceremonials.

As my dear friend, Regina, lovingly shaved the last of my hair, I felt the flurry of emotions of Rapunzel.  I was free to embrace the adventure ahead, no longer hanging on to my strands as if to connect me to all that I knew.  Like Disney’s Tangled, those scissors and clippers essentially became my frying pan! Just as random and obsure as it seemed to Rapunzel and Flynn Ryder in the animated flick, the most unexpected object became my weapon of bravery!  Somehow, I became more confident in my baldness and in my sickness than I’d ever been before.   God’s graces were upon me, and I did everything I could all day, every day,  to tap in to them.  Bald and Brave.

Part 2: 

As I continued through each new phase of treatment after my initial 6 rounds of chemo, my hair began to slowly return.  Could it be real that I could have it all:  HAIR, this newly found CONFIDENCE AND BRAVERY, aaaand FREEDOM?

When I made my first “debut” out and about with my first baby sprouts, freshly tinted to a bold platinum blonde,  I felt that feeling of Freedom again.  The itchy regrowth under those beanies began to rebuild “tower walls” around me, challenging me EVERY DAY to bust out and keep my head in the game, remembering what was really important. I was here. I’m alive.  Who cares about my dang hair?!?

It felt great. I felt ALIVE!

PART 3

Fast forward to one full year later.  Fast forward to the present, today.

My hair’s finally picking up the pace enough that people that never new me would think I just have a “mom-do”.  I’m always pinning new cut ideas as it grows, determined to have fun and enjoy the styles as it inches along.  Trust me, if I just rolled with it and let it grow with no intervening, I’d have a full blown Joe Dirt mullet: “business on top, party in the back”! Like an aging man, my hair fell out on top and front first.  That, my friends, has been my most stubborn area to get back.  But… it’s hair, and it’s a great way to finally not look like I was sick.

However…

That’s the irony of it all.  As my hair returns, those looks feel so deceiving.

Just as Rapunzel’s long golden hair appeared an image of fairy tale beauty, it meant nothing of her every day life.  My hair coming back gives the rest of the world a feeling that all is well and lovely.  It gives people comfort to move on,  feeling assured that our fam must be able to as well.  Never would have thought that before having a cancer diagnosis, but since I’m learning so much about the before, during, and after that I would have never understood.  Before, I also would have looked at the return of HAIR to be a sign that it was over, they were “all good now”.  In a sense, yes, the initial cancer is gone. But little would I have known, the journey may not be.

 I stopped NEEDING my hair a long time ago.  The moment I shaved my head (Remember PART 1), I felt FREE.  Much like Tangled’s princess, I was smacking any fears, anxieties and stigmas right in the face with my hair clipper-frying pain.

With every inch, I’ve felt both excited and completely confused.

The majority of my treatment ended, the world kept turning, and I was thrown right back into it, yet this time, I’m only just beginning to look the part of my former self.  This time, I’m parenting 5 children ages 2 to 11 with a new body that just doesn’t work like it used to.   I often get worn down on every angle by weekly physical therapy and supplements to strengthen my bones and joints that seem to degenerate with each dose of my preventative meds to save my life from any future possibilities, yet make me feel as though I can’t function in the life that I fought so hard to live today.

With each doctor’s appointment to try a new plan of action,  I could feel the whispers of anxiety, dimming hope, and ultimately… FEAR giving all their best shots to lock me away from the world.  I began feeling misunderstood and embarrassed of my frustration and lack of positive go-getter responses as people ask “So, how are ya?  I see you’re hair’s back, so ya must be all done, right?”

My hair has felt like an awkward gift to just misguide people in their understanding of me and who I am now.

So who am I?

Then it hit me, like God so often does with me when I start to feel like I’m falling.

I’m Rapunzel again.

With every new milestone of length in my locks, I’m pretty sure I grabbed another brick to build my tower again.  With every appointment that I’ve tried to explain my increasing pain and frustrations, I climbed higher, away from the world.  I’ve felt the tower walls closing in upon me, yet this time, I had no idea what to use as my frying pan anymore?  It started feeling claustrophobic, and to say the least, disappointing.

During our regular Netflix-fix of our fave streaming show, Once Upon A Time, with the Hubbie I randomly got slammed in the face by the Rapunzel Episode (Yes, for any fellow viewers, we’re very behind on the seasons. No spoilers please!).   As Charming finds Rapunzel tucked away in the forest, it isn’t long before they realize she’s haunted and imprisoned by her own fears.   Only by identifying and facing her fears, and making a change… could she escape her solitude. Yes, she’s called out, yes heroes have attempted to save her, and her basic situation that first led her to the forest remains the same,  yet SHE can have HOPE that she is neither alone nor did it have to be this way.  Life may be as it has been dealt, yet only SHE can choose to LIVE IT.  She needed to want it, she needed to know it didn’t have to be this way, and she needed to get her “head in the game” (At least, that’s how my former chemo-fighting self would have said it.)

My physical situation may be what it is for now, but as a friend reminded me recently…

THIS TOO SHALL PASS.

It just HAS to.

That, and … I CAN DO HARD THINGS.

I can keep fighting. I didn’t want to be standing here a year and a half after my diagnosis and still be swimming up stream, but here we are.   It may feel like cancer is still upon me, still trying to take me away from the life I’ve been fighting tooth and nail for… but I CANNOT LET IT WIN.   It can’t last forever.  We WILL figure it out, and we WILL get through this.

I won’t stay locked up in a tower, afraid of some kind of dim future.

Instead, I’m cutting myself FREE, picking up my sword and…

I’M BUSTING OUT!

I’ve said it before, but it never means that I can’t say it again or be embarrassed to NEED to say it again.  The battle ain’t over, and I haven’t lost.

I fought hard for this life, and some creepy, ugly, old anxieties and frustrations are not going to take this life from my NOW.

So,  “So long, creepy tower.”  I’ve got a family to love on and a life to live.

And this time, when I peek out of my tower to yell for help.  I’m looking UP for my Prince Charming.  He’s not on the ground, waiting for my golden locks.  He’s been looking down upon me EVERY DAY OF THIS LIFE, and that BIG GUY UPSTAIRS has never let me down.  Sometimes, I just forget to call out to Him.

#GodsGotThis

Here’s to my new adventure!  Prayers coming back to YOU, my friends, on your own paths and “Welcome!” to anyone willing to join forces with me as I jump down from the tower and carry on…

ONE DAY, ONE PRAYER at a time.

My kids were home for a week just after my last blog post when I made that great decision to get back out there and start exercising! I vowed to keep on truckin’ no matter how big or how small my workouts could be, despite the pain I felt.   As you well know, whenever ya say your plans out loud….

(No need to finish that sentence.  We all know how they flutter away like fairy dust!)

Each morning, my kitchen was invaded with faces kinda like the little lady in the pic above.   I say “kinda” … and “like” because my kids never have their hair fixed so neatly as this chica, and there’s no way any of my crew could get a hold of so many cookies with out someone else swiping a few from her or ratting her out first!  But, hey!  Applause to you, Little Lady, for scoring a row of cookies before your siblings could find ya.  Do your thang, Gurl!  Ain’t many opportunities in life for that.  I  merely pray she find a gallon-o-milk real soon.  Aaaaaand some Pepto!

…………..

Back to reality:

So, it’s been a roller coaster.  (Such is life though, right?)  My plans of daily exercise and rehab became plans to more-or-less just be active with my crew.  Which became the silver lining.  That is, once I embraced it.

Ya see, the bloggity-blogger that writes all this stuff sometimes forgets.  After being so “gung-ho” all through treatment over the past year, I’m needing to read my own advice a lot more lately.  The pain I’ve been experiencing these past few months from my new medical “defense” protocol has really blindsided me and boggled my mind a bit, as it has no real “end” in sight.  It could quite possible just be my new reality, which is a tough “pill” to swallow (no pun intended… or maybe it is! Wakka Wakka!)

After a few days on my FUNNY FARM with 5 kiddos emptying my pantry daily, climbing the walls each rainy day of our vacation, wondering what in the world was up with Mommy, attempting a grocery run with my 2 year old which ended up like this….

“MISS INCREDIBLE”… Finally at rest from grocery store adventrues of packing and unpacking the cart, “restocking” the shelves, escaping the evil villain-mommy through the magic motion doors during checkout, and showing her strength in power down to the very last choice of grocery suckers. Tough being this “Incredibly TWO!!!”

SO… yeah,  I was just about “DONE!”  Stick a fork in me.  Yet, I could hear my guardian angel saying,

“Flip them over, cuz they’re NOT done.  They still have a whole other side, and so do you! Rally up mommy and own this FUNNY FARM! You’re on the crazy train, GOIN’ NO WHERE.  Not until you drive it!!!”

  I have a pushy guardian angel.  She must may be my maternal great grandmother, Alice (Allie).  The same firecracker that my lil’ Firecracker favors.  That great grandmother leaves legends of stories of a “lead foot”/”need for speed” as she actually (1) drove through a grocery store; (2) up the steps of a church; and (3) on to her neighbor’s porch ! Might I add each rendezvous was a separate occasion, all ending in her stepping out of the car and covering with a joke (ie: “Yeah, I’m here to pick up my sister!”  – When ya can’t hide it, own it, right? There’s a lesson here.  Stay with me.)  She was a lot of fun, a loose canon, and NEVER afraid to speak her mind! Never met her myself, but I hear I have a lot of her in me, as does my little strawberry blonde 5 year old.  Have mercy on us all!  (Don’t worry, I’m a good driver.  My kids are safe.  Yet Uber driver gift cards are ALWAYS welcome! 😉  Ha!)

Whatever little birdie, guardian angel, or cooky great grandmother was whispering in my ear that day… the nudge helped.  (As seems to be a current theme with these influential great grandmothers and grandmothers-o-mine, if you’ve been reading my blog posts.  Crazy.) My funny farm and our crazy train are mine.  Mine all mine.  It’s an exhausting and forever entertaining way to live… but guess what?

*We’re never bored.

*We’re always loved.

*Everyone here is covered in messy fingerprint hugs. (I have stained pants and shirts to prove it)

*My body aches every day. (Yet I know that it’s ‘cuz it just kicked cancer’s butt! Boom.)

*My scars are every where.  (Badges of honor)

*My body, my house, my everything… is perfectly imperfect, and that’s ok.  (It’s mine.)

I dreamed a lot, as a kid, of what I was going to be when I grew up.  I dreamed of being a comedienne, a cartoonist, a dancer, a singer, an actress, a writer, a rock star, a cruise ship performer, a Broadway star, a teacher, and a wife and mother.  And lately I’ve realized that, I’m in some ways, I get to be the greatest aspects of ALL that I’ve admired about each of those roles… and a SURVIVOR.   I fought long and hard to live, laugh, dance, sing, play, teach, and love my family and those around me.  And God has been with me, giving me the graces to fight HARD so that I could be here to do it NOW.  TODAY.  I don’t need to think too long about yesterday and what went wrong about our plans or missed opportunities, epic fails in my motherhood and “coulda-would-shouldas”, or what we can do tomorrow.  Instead I am gonna look at TODAY.

RIGHT NOW, I am home again with my youngest two (Firecracker’s home sick today) who genuinely love their mama. (Wow! That’s me!)  So when they wake from their naps (That is, if they’re actually sleeping up there. Hmmm?),  we’re gonna play dress up and maybe snuggle up and watch My Little Pony or even play Go Fish (Both of which may not be my first choice, but it’s Firecracker’s fave this week, so I’m gonna do my best to try and not overrule it and “sell” her on one of “Mommy’s choices”.  Oy!).  Who knows.  Maybe they’ll just play pretend. I won’t plan it.  More than likely, Snuggles (aka: “Miss Incredible”; or better yet, as she calls herself now: “The Boss”) will will “express her feelings” at some point and we’ll adjust our plans 2, 3, or 4 times.  But that’s life.  And with a few deep breaths, we’ll all be just fine.

As I said over … and over… and over again that day in the grocery when “Miss Impossible” took over the store AND the check out line,  my motto became:

“If I can kick cancer, I can handle this two year old’s tantrum…”

“If I can kick cancer, I can get this two year old back in the cart…”

“If I can kick cancer, I can shrug off the dirty looks from the line of people behind me…..”

“If I can kick cancer…  I can turn around and with confidence remind my audience that(with a smile and actually announcing), ‘She’s TWO, and she’ll grow out of it.  She’s just having a moment. We all had ’em, right?  Hopefully we just hide ’em better. But thanks for your concern!’ (And I literally curtsied… followed by round of applause from 2 women in back of the line!)

Oh If only, I’d remembered to do my Elvis impression: “Thank ya very much!”  Waste of a moment!    Anywho…   As I walked out, still smiling – so happy with myself, with still fussy & oh-so-sucker-sticky toddler on my hip while pushing full cart of groceries to the car,  I must admit I was walking a little taller.  I knew I’d finally marked a real milestone in my life. (Get ready to pull out the baby book, Mom, this needs to go in there!)

I’m finally a truly confidant woman!  It only took 37 years, 5 kids, and a lil’ ol’ breast cancer, but I FINALLY am owning my funny farm, “my crazy”, and my life… my crazy lovely life.  And I just don’t care if not one other person would like to be in my shoes, ‘cuz I wouldn’t trade with ’em anyway.   I’m also not especially curious as to whether or not they like my shoes (that is if I’m wearing any!) or how I choose to walk in ’em.  God gave me MY life… and I’m owning it!

May we all feel inspired, empowered, and seek the graces of God to go out into the world to  LIVE today, embracing each challenge and rejoicing in every blessing as He would have it with CONFIDENCE.

For many years I confused confidence with cockiness and therefore was afraid of it and lived much of my life shying from compliments and talking myself down, as many (women in particular) do.

The fact is, I think I never truly understood the true blessing and beauty of confidence. 

On my way home from that EPIC GROCERY RUN, I prayed a  prayer of thanksgiving FOR MY SURPRISING CONFIDENCE. (Weird, I know, but you have know I idea what a big deal that was for me, the “people-pleaser” that I am, who would have gone home and questioned myself about every detail as to how I should have handled the entire situation differently and better in earlier parenting years.)  In my prayers,  I came up with a personal definition of a confidant woman:

…..

A confident woman

embraces the greatest gifts

that exist within herself

and dares all those around her

to do the same.

-Buna

…..

I pray no one out there needs a diagnosis or tragedy to find their “cancer” (so to speak); however, sometimes, it’s in our struggles or in the friction and challenges of our lives that we dig our deepest.  In my experience, I found that the deeper we dig, we find that deep within us, we don’t only find ourselves, but we find God.  Where there is God, there is strength.  I pray that there, in that strength…

We all find the GRACE to embrace our personal “funny farms”…

OWN our “crazy trains” …

and DRIVE them with confidence because they’re OURS,

WITH GOD AS THE CONDUCTOR, guiding us in this path of life.

“CHOO! CHOO!!!”

(Can’t escape the CHEESINESS.  It’s like my own Jedi power.  THE CHEESE IS STRONG WITHIN ME)