MelissaStuff

If you know much about me, you know I’m a student of human behavior. Admittedly, I have been too distracted to pay much attention to what anyone else has been doing through certain parts of this process, but other times I have actually used the behavior of the people around me as a distraction from my own issues.  Here are some of the things I have concluded: {Warning: You should not read this post if you are easily shocked or offended. I’m not, which makes it possible for me to not be terribly bothered by many of these things and prevents this from being one long list of complaints. I’m actually more fascinated by the reactions and curious about what drives them.} 1. Some people want to make a joke of everything.  My husband got dressed a little nicer than normal when we went to the hospital for treatment this week, and when my sister gave him a hard time about it, his response was, “I have to start looking for the next one.” {Insert shaking of heads and rolling of eyes} I’m not one t

I attended a retreat recently - really just a girls getaway. While I was there, I was doing some reading and I came across this quote by Christa Wells on her blog: Today and for the past week I’ve fought hard to stay present and emotionally-armed as I am reminded at every turn of a painful detour in my life. My friend said a week ago: “The detour is the path.” It’s been bouncing around in my head ever since. And making me angry, too. I mean, some detours could be avoided, right? Some detours become necessary only because people are selfish and put up roadblocks that affect everybody on the road. Right? Yes. So what? Here we are. What are we going to do about it? Here I am taking this unexpected route, a route I didn’t see on the map, and have no knowledge of or interest in. Taking this route is going require re-arranging and will make me miss some beautiful things I’ve looked forward to. I’m tired and my pack is heavy and the view ain’t that great. This detour hurts. A lot. Oh,

Please don't mistake the following ponderings for pessimism - they are not - but you can't go through a situation like this one honestly, with your head held high and your eyes wide open and not ask yourself questions like: If my time is more limited than I once thought, if I don't have 70 years to plan for, what would I wish I had done more of? What would I wish I had done less of? What would I desperately want to be different? I certainly don't have all of the answers to those questions, but I do have some ideas.  Ask anyone close to me what the last couple of years have been like and they will tell you - hectic, crazy, non-stop, successful, impressive to some, busy, too busy. Ask me and I will tell you a slightly different story if I am willing to be transparent - they have been frantic, panicky, driven by a desperate fear of failure, life-sucking, unfulfilling, lacking in almost everything that gives life to me and makes me - well, me.  I haven't felt like I

For those of you who don't know, I was diagnosed with Papillary Carcinoma, or Thyroid Cancer in December 2017.  The ups and downs of this journey have already made me feel as if I’m on a roller coaster ride in the dark . . . and, let me assure you, that isn’t something I enjoy. I didn’t feel all that badly coming out of the initial surgery - even though the results weren’t the best they could have been. We were settling into a routine of medicine and rest when I realized that my lips weren’t moving correctly as I tried to talk to my parents . . . almost like I’d had dental work done. Then, I remarked to my mom that something was wrong - my arms and legs felt tingly and heavy from the elbows and knees down, from the collarbone up everything felt wrong about how my neck and face felt. I might be the world’s worst at ever admitting that I feel funny or that something is wrong. Somewhere deep down, I’m convinced I’m imagining it or over-reacting to things others would think was no big