This journal is not for you. This is for me.

Well, that's sorta true. It’s for you in the sense that if you’re reading this you love me or like me or know me or are cancer-curious or a gawky onlooker who is using my diagnosis as a way to take a mental health day from work (which by the way I’m TOTALLY on board with. Do your thing! There is no prize as an adult for perfect attendance. Use me to get your grocery shopping done and binge Netflix. I’m in.) Your participation in this journey is an expression of support, curiosity, and thereby of love so, hey, thanks. Welcome.

It’s just honesty, like the gut-wrenching and often cringy “did she just say that?!”, “I feel weird”, “why are we talking about pooping again” honesty is the way I live and what this (mostly) daily journal will be. No Irish Catholic silences of my childhood, no freaking way. I watched my grandmother die in her 50’s of throat cancer that made both her Virginia Slims** and her if-you-don’t-talk-about-the-obvious-family-drama-it-isn’t-happening approach to trauma a model for what not to do. Pro tip: Never let your truth get stuck in your throat, that shit will kill you. It may not save you from the C-Bag (exhibit A) but at least you are free and whittling out all those who are NOT your people. Win-win.

Getting ready for my husband to give me a PG-rated buzz cut. That cape is called a Beard King and I give it 5-stars for catching hair and tears.

This truth is MINE. That is the ‘for me’ part. Every single cancer, even identical diagnoses, present differently in different bodies and meet their keepers in their own specific place in life. This is not about the experience of having double hit diffuse b-cell lymphoma, which lets us all off the hook. For me, I don’t like titles so know very little about my actual diagnosis including choosing not to find out about the stage I’m in (yes, you can do that) so I don’t have to represent the blood cancer peeps out there. For you it doesn’t have to be “the way cancer is” but ONE way it can be. We are all living longer which means we or the people in our world will move in and out of sickness throughout our lives. Maybe this will give you a few ways to show up in this inevitability for yourself and others with less fear.

One last thing and, just for fun, can we do a pinky swear about it? Okay. Hold out your pinky, connect it with mine through the unseen time/space continuum, and we’ll repeat each of these to one another:

I reserve my right to change my mind at any time about anything. I’m learning new things every day and will use that knowledge to evolve my opinions and actions.

I will love people enough to tell them the truth, especially myself. I will do it in a way that assumes possible intent.
I would rather choose to say the wrong thing to those suffering in my life than saying nothing at all. I will use Google to look up stuff like, “what to say to a friend that has cancer and what not to” to help me. I do the work so my friend doesn’t have to.
When I feel judgment, eye-rolling, gossip, shit-talk, and general hierarchical thinking that I’m better than someone else straight slippin’ into the DM’s of my mind, I will acknowledge it and say BYEEEEEE. We’re all doing our best even when it looks like our worst.
I will find humor in the darkest moments. Humor is the enemy of fear.

Okay, now wash your hands. Do we still have to sing the happy birthday song while doing it? sigh Who knows.

Comment below, explore the resources in the education tab, share feedback, share your stories, ideas, good vibes, whatever you got. If you subscribe I hope to send out a collection of posts and my fav things I’m into once a week to your inbox.

This is therapy ya’ll. Look for an invoice from “C-Bag industries” and yes, you may call me a C-Bag or The C-Bag or C-Beezie. I’m taking its power back for us all (looking at you ladies).

Arbitrary footnotes:

**My grandma was named Virginia too so maybe that’s why she smoked that brand - kinda like you have a higher chance of being a dentist when you’re named Dennis. Look it up. That’s real.

Uncomfortable eye contact.

Logistics.