Disrespect is not nice!

I've been blogging since I was diagnosed with breast cancer in 2014, that's 10 years! In that time, I've never dealt with anyone making unkind remarks or using profanity when posting a comment. But the other day, as I was checking comments (because I have moderations turned on), I found a very nasty comment filled with profanity. Immediately, I was hurt. I didn't understand why someone would be so unkind and use such filthy language. Needless to say, I deleted the comment and did not post it. 

My blog is mine. Everything I post contains my own personal thoughts and feelings. I don't force anyone to read it and I have never tried to post anything that would upset or wound another. I just don't understand why someone would feel the need to write such filth on my blog. Shame on them!

So, that one person's actions have caused me to resort to disabling the comments for any of my posts. I don't want to have to worry about being personally attacked by someone's stupidity in the future. 

You know what they say about opinions, and I won't share the quote here because it isn't very nice, but you can Google it, I'm sure. Everyone has their own opinion and since this is America, everyone has the freedom of speech, or so they say. 

I'm sorry if anything I've written has offended anyone. That has never been my intention. 

I am very thankful for the readers who consistently follow my blog. You're either family or friends I've treasured for years and for those I've never met, I love you, too. For me, it's an honor to have someone take the time to read what I write. There are so many things to read on the internet, and my little blog is just a tiny drop in that huge sea of information. 

Forgive the rant today. I won't mention that person's ugliness again, but let me tell you, the person was too chicken to leave a name when they made the comment. That tells me they're a spineless wimp filled with venom. 

I'm a firm believer in what goes around comes around. God doesn't reward unkindness. We will all be held responsible for every word we think, speak, or write. And I know when I stand before Him one day, I won't have to feel guilty about the words I've put forth into the universe. 

Words are powerful. They can kill or they can give life. I hope your words are edifying to others like I try to make mine be. 

Now, with that out of the way, I hope you all had a wonderful Valentine's Day and I hope you felt loved.  My husband showered me with roses, a beautiful card, a bottle of champagne, and some chocolate covered strawberries. It was such a special day! I think we should celebrate love and happiness every day, don't you? 

Broken

 

A brilliant Yellow Swallowtail landed on my leg today as we sat outside on our back patio. It was such a special moment and I was extremely still for fear of interrupting its landing. At first glance, I thought it was a perfect butterfly but as I looked closer, I noticed one of its wings was broken and that made me extremely sad. 

I wondered how the wing had been compromised. Had the butterfly brushed against something rough that had caught and torn the wing or had a pair of eager little hands tried to catch it and in desperation of keeping its freedom, the butterfly had sacrificed part of its wing as it got away. 

The butterfly stay for several minutes before lifting off and gently soaring on the breeze. As it left, I felt my wounded heart cry out, "You're still broken, too."Though I didn't want to admit it, I knew it was true. 

I'd been broken for almost 9 years, since the diagnosis of my breast cancer. Though I'd had months of deep despair, I'd also experienced moments of sheer joy at still being alive and being able to do the things I wanted to do, but I wasn't ever going to be the same again. That realization wounded me deeply.

Today, without realizing he'd done it, my husband said something very hurtful to me. He'd meant it in teasing but the words pierced my heart and made me feel less than. Those words reminded me of my brokenness and I began to sob. When he realized he'd hurt me, he instantly came to my side asking for forgiveness but the words had already accomplished their goal. It was my choice whether or not I would hold on to them or release them. 

I wanted to instantly release them but something deep inside cried out. I thought, by now, I was completely over the trauma of breast cancer, but apparently I wasn't. I wondered if I'd ever feel normal again or at least feel worthy of love again. 

That butterfly, though it had a broken wing, chose to continue to fly. If it hadn't continued on, it would have died without sustenance. The more I thought about it, the more I realized I had to choose to continue on, too. 

I've been trying to learn to thrive for several years now, but it's been hard. The dictionary defines the word thrive in this way: "to prosper, to flourish." I wasn't doing that. I was merely existing. I went from one mundane day to the next trying to fill my time with things to occupy my mind like art projects or writing. When I wasn't doing one of those things, I was cleaning. My house was always immaculate. Though those things kept me busy, they didn't fill my heart with joy. I needed joy. 

I realized, along with feeling broken, I was lonely. I had no friends here and all of my family lived at least an hour away. Rarely did I see anyone other than medical staff or my husband. I needed more. 

Social media helped a little. As I perused my account, I enjoyed learning what my "long distance" friends were up to. It felt like I had a connection although it wasn't really true. 

I'm not the type of person to get down in the dumps often but for the past couple of years I think I've struggled with depression. Oh, it's been mild but it's been there and I haven't liked it one bit. 

If I'd been smart, I would have taken my oncologist up on meeting with a cognitive behavioral specialist, but I was too embarrassed to admit my need. I was also afraid of admitting I was struggling with feelings of unworthiness. 

My faith in God has been my saving grace. Whenever I've felt smothered in my feelings, He's always  been there to remind me who I am and whose I am. Without him, I'm sure I would have already given up. Thankfully, His Word speaks to my heart daily. 

I've had to remind myself over and over again that feelings aren't fact. Though I feel broken and less than, I'm still His precious child. And He chose the trial of breast cancer for me. Knowing that gives me peace, not because I was made to suffer through the trauma of having my body maimed, but knowing no matter what, He'd promised never to leave or forsake me. 

The butterfly with the broken wing was a special gift. I think God allowed it to land on my leg for a reason- to remind me life is still possible even with a broken body. 

I still have a lot of internal healing to do and I'm working on myself daily. I've learned to use positive self talk to help remind me I matter, but more than that, as I've struggled, I've looked for Scriptures that get me back on track. 

I doubt if all women who go through breast cancer struggle with body image like I have but many do. It's hard to explain how damaging losing body parts can be to a person's self worth, especially when those body parts are the essence of their femininity. 

One day, I'm hoping to see myself healed and whole. Until then, I'll keep on working through things one day at a time. And one day, perhaps I'll fly.

Four words

She reached out via Facebook Messenger, this friend I'd met last year. We'd bonded during our trip to Israel. I'd come to love and respect her. We just clicked.

But when the news came, I wasn't expecting it. She had just been diagnosed with breast cancer. What could I say? What could I do?

I didn't want to discourage her by sharing my story, but I wanted to let her know I cared. Instead of offering my heartfelt sympathy, I typed four words, "I'm here for you."

And that was that.

But it wasn't really...

My heart hurt. Everything in me was churning. I could feel the anger rising up within me. When hot tears poured down my face, it felt like they were scalding. I didn't want her to have cancer. I didn't want anyone to have cancer. I wished I could wish it away for her, but I couldn't.

In the next few days, she'll meet with the surgeon to discuss her options. I'll be praying for her to have wisdom. And if she reaches out again, I'll be there, to offer love, support, and comfort.

The hard will come, I know it. She doesn't know about the hard yet, but soon she will.

And I hate it.

Subterfuge

Yesterday I was ambushed. The day had gone extremely well as we celebrated the fourth of July with one of my daughters and her family, but late in the day, I received an unexpected surprise.

I was given a handwritten letter from my mother who'd passed away this past December. At first, when I began reading, I thought it would be a beautiful keepsake but instead, I found nothing but hurtful and bitter words. Needless to say, I was crushed. It was a sneak attack and it was so painful.

I spent the rest of the afternoon in tears. Trying to keep from ruining the party, I excused myself to the bathroom where I cried in private. Why had I been given this letter now and why had my mother written such terrible words? I was so confused and it seemed so unfair.

On my way home from the party, I threw the letter out the car window. Watching the 3 pieces of paper float away on the wind gave me peace. Although I knew I'd never be able to forget the words I'd read, at least I didn't have a tangible reminder of them any longer.

The Bible says in Proverbs 18:21 "Life and death are in the power of the tongue, and those who love it will eat its fruit." Words wound. Even if they're coming from the grave, they can still pierce the heart. So please, don't say damaging things to your loved ones...ever.

Carpal Tunnel go away!

Ouch. My goal today was to work more on my book manuscript. I had great aspirations of what I'd accomplish today but as I began typing, I felt the ugly sting of my carpal tunnel syndrome flaring up.

It's been dormant since I retired, probably because I haven't spent hours and hours typing like I used to do when I worked a 9 to 5 job. Back then, I have no idea how many words I typed a minute, but at last count, it was over 100. That being said, you can only imagine how many words I typed a day working for one of Atlanta's largest Southern Baptist churches.

I have typed since I was a child but didn't learn correct finger placement until I was in the 9th grade of high school. Sitting under the tutelage of Mrs. Ann Brake, I was so happy to move from a manual typewriter to an electric. It took a little time for the finger placement to make sense and for my fingers and brain to make the connection but when they did, my fingers flew! Every job I've had since learning proper finger placement has revolved around typing in some form or fashion. My poor wrists can attest to that.

Even though my wrists are burning, I've managed to get some work done on my book. I'm now up to chapter number five and I've typed 22,165 words! That's a lot. I think it's time to give my wrists a rest so I'm going to end my post here but I'm so thankful I don't have to write things by hand any longer. Typewriters and keyboards have certainly made my life so much easier. And as the famous Margaret Mitchell said in her book, Gone with the Wind, tomorrow is another day.

Well, shut my mouth!

This weekend was crazy busy, but in a good way. We had company come to visit on Friday and they stayed overnight. While it's always good to see extended family, it's challenging for me to be a good hostess...not because I don't want to, but because I just don't have the energy. I did my best and hopefully they felt welcomed and loved.

On Saturday, we had more family come over for a cookout and that made for another long, but good, day. We always enjoy having my daughter, Laura, and her family come over to spend time with us. It's such fun to watch my granddaughter play and enjoy experimenting with various art mediums. She knows her Gigi will let her do just about anything and she's learned where all of my art supplies are located. This time she got to try her hand at using pastels. It was so fun to see her learn it's okay if your hands get messy and that art is fun!

Sunday, we decided to drive up to spend the day with my youngest daughter. The weather was a challenge and we ran into some big thunderstorms but it was good to spend time with her. I picked up a stomach bug from someone I'd been around over the weekend and wasn't feeling the best but managed to grin and bear it. (Having low white cell counts makes me susceptible to infection and germs.) I guess I should have limited my time around so many people but I'm trying to live my life as normally as possible and sometimes I forget my immune system is compromised.

On the way home from the visit with my youngest daughter, the bottom fell out. There were ominous dark clouds overhead and the rain was heavy and hard. We needed to stop and get gas because we were just about on empty. While hubby was filling up the car, I was checking text messages and looking at emails. It didn't take long and we were back on the road. The rain continued to pour and it began to hail. At some point, hubby glanced into the rear view mirror and noticed he'd forgotten to close the door to the gas compartment. (He does this frequently so I didn't think anything about it.) He pulled into a church parking lot and quickly dashed out into the pouring rain to close the little gas door. I felt badly for him for having to get all wet but then again, it was his fault he'd forgotten to close the door.... When he got back into the car, he said he'd forgotten to put the gas cap back on too. Suddenly, it clicked. I'd heard a noise about ten minutes prior that sounded like something rolling off the top of the car. I'd thought nothing of it because of the heavy rain. Apparently, he'd put the cap on the roof of the car while he was gassing up and had forgotten to put it back on before driving off. Now, instead of me laughing it off and making light of the situation, I was upset. I was afraid, since he'd left the gas compartment door open and the cap off the gas tank that we'd gotten rain water in our gas tank and I just knew it was going to lead to a costly repair bill. So, guess what I did...I started fussing at him for leaving the door open and the cap off. (Yes, he does it often, but I shouldn't have fussed. I should have kept my mouth closed and remembered that old Southern adage, "If you can't say something nice, don't say anything at all.") He asked me if I'd look up an Autozone car parts store on Google maps and direct him to the nearest location. As we drove toward the auto parts store, I continued to chide him for his mistake. He didn't say a word. I knew he felt badly for forgetting but we all make mistakes, right? So why did I feel the need to keep on him? We arrived at the Autozone and he rain through the rain into the store. In just a few minutes, he was coming out with the new gas cap and quickly put it in place. When he climbed back into the car, I asked how much the gas cap had cost. "It was only $12," he said. But, I thought to myself, it was $12 we shouldn't have had to spend. We got back on the road and the rain began to ease up. The rest of the way home, we didn't talk much. I wished I'd kept my mouth closed and not made a big deal out of the forgotten gas cap and open gas door but I couldn't take back my hasty words.

Something has to change. Today I'm starting day one of the Love Dare challenge. (The Love Dare was first introduced in the movie,  "Fireproof," in 2008.  In that movie, the lead actor, Kirk Cameron, finds his marriage falling apart. He and his wife fuss and fight all the time. Kirk's character becomes addicted to internet porn and his marriage continues to explode driving he and his wife further and further apart. One day, Kirk's father steps in and presents the Love Dare challenge to his son in an effort to dissuade him from filing for divorce. Though hesitant to accept the challenge, he does and his marriage is saved.) I'm accepting the challenge in hopes of seeing some major changes in my marriage. After almost 23 years of living with the same person, it's easy to begin to take them for granted. I never want that to happen and I surely don't want to speak hasty, hurtful words to my husband again especially over something silly. The first dare in the book is to forego speaking negative words to your spouse and to learn to be patient. In the introduction, the book says "Patience helps you give your spouse permission to be human. It understands that everyone fails. When a mistake is made, it chooses to give them more time than they deserve to correct it. It gives you the ability to hold on during the tough times in your relationship rather than bailing out under the pressure." I wish I'd read that yesterday....

© bonnie annis all rights reserved