Waiting for the Gas to Evaporate

My interest in hooping has completely fallen to the wayside.  I no longer feel that connection I once had while in the hoop.

I think going through cancer had a big part to play.

Actually I know that it has.

It’s just not the same.  It’s more work.  My hoops don’t feel right.  I can’t get the flow down without feeling clunky, and not to mention, I can’t keep up with all the moves that are going on in the hooping world.  It leaves me feeling quite defeated.

Of course I know that with anything practice practice practice, but after going through one of the most intense period of my life, where all i did was muster all the strength I had to fight off cancer… I just don’t have it in me to “work”  and to work hard at something.

There is still a small part of me that isn’t ready to let go of hooping completely.  There are times where I will urge myself to just get in the hoop and to just keep running something over and over…however after 50 failed attempts I grow frustrated and slip back into the same old redundant moves, which then makes the whole process feel boring.

I’m not sure I’ll ever get back into hooping with the fervor I once had.  Something inside tells me I will.  But now is just not the time.  For now, I’ll practice the few hooping routines I once had down pat, but I think that’s the extent of my hooping for awhile.

At least for now.

 

A Matter of Time.

The thing about cancer is that it always looms.  Even when you beat it to it’s core, there is still that worry that it will spring forth new life and wreck havoc again.

I feel anxious and jittery these days.   For many reasons actually.  But this has been one that sits with me, compelling me to do so much more with the time I have been given, because you never know.  You just never know.

Time.

It is something that has become acutely aware within me.  I fear that there is not much left.

Everyone else sits calmly.   I can not.   They seem content with the motions.  Or in no hurry.  Priorities elsewhere.  Meanwhile, time…life, is slipping by.

If not now then when?

 

A Burdence

Most my life has been spent feeling as though I am a burden to someone.

Having gone through cancer….hasn’t lessen that feeling.

I don’t know when I will return to full capacity.  Yet I feel that there are expectations and assumptions about my return to “normalcy”.

I don’t even know what is normal anymore.  Not that I ever really believed in a “normal”.

Truth be told, I just don’t know what to do with myself now.

I don’t feel as though I am ready to jump back in full swing.  One, my energy wanes from time to time.  I get sick on occasion.  My immune system is weak causing me to pick up a cold every other week.

I know during my treatment all I bitched about was getting back to my life and the things I loved to do.  Yet now, my life…those things I loved to do have become tiresome.  Difficult.

This rant is nothing new.  Just the same old blah blah blah that plagues me from time to time.  Yet, when it comes to others, and their sense of time, It just feels like more is expected of me.

And I just don’t know what to expect of myself just yet.

And I don’t want to expect anything really.

Because I just don’t know.

I just don’t know where to go after all of this.

And it’s the scariest, most depressing part of this journey thus far.

The Year of Rebirth: Alive and Kicking.

Once again, another year has come and gone and a new one is upon us.

Let me just say that I am sooooo glad to say goodbye to 2016.  It truly was a fucker of year, what with having cancer and everything that goes with it, loved ones struggling, Trump being elected.  I mean seriously, I don’t know what crawled up 2016’s ass and died but it pretty much had a vendetta for most of us.

Of course with turmoil, comes knowledge.  I know that a lot of people struggled with 2016 on various levels.  I would hope that out of those struggles, a deeper understanding of ourselves has been attained. With the passing of 2016 we can now move out from under the rubble of such a tumultuous year stronger, wiser, kinder and with more love in our hearts.

Each year I try to attach a theme to it.  Something to work on or overcome.  A reminder of some sorts to help me be the best me possible.  It was something I noticed someone I know doing way back when, and I thought it such a great idea.

I’ve had many themes over the years.  (you’ll stumble across them if you dig about in this here blog of mine.)

Sometimes I come out a champ.  Sometimes I don’t.   I reflect, take what I need to be a better me, and move on.

The last few years I began calling upon the wisdom of the Fairy Oracles to share their insight in the potential the year could bring, and what areas of myself I should pay close attention to and work on.

Last year they must have been incredibly drunk and on crack, because the card pulled for the theme of 2016 was…..Vacation.

If they thought taking a vacation from my day to day was going through chemo treatments, well I gotta say…I disagree.

In any case, 2016 became the year of survival.  Whether it was known or not.  Because that is exactly what I did.  I survived.   (and if you are reading this, you did as well.)

As 2017 made it’s appearance, I toyed once again with consulting the fairies about their thoughts on what the focus of the year could be, but before I could get my deck of Oracle cards out, a word began to reverberate with in.

rebirth

After all the muck and mire of 2016, Some sort of re-birth is needed.  A Renascence if you will.

This is the time to come back alive.  To shed whatever crap 2016 burdened us with and begin anew.  Like the phoenix rising from the ashes.  The time is now.

If not now, then when?

And I am tired of waiting for “when”.

This is the year to do something you’ve always wanted to do but were too afraid.  Fuck that fear.  Do it.  You owe it to yourself to get out there and tap into your authentic being.  Authenticity doesn’t come from being afraid, or putting something off till tomorrow, or the next week, or month.

And not only is it getting out there and living life to it’s fullest, it’s also living each and every moment with gratitude.  Even when the shitty stuff happens, because it is only then that we truly realize how strong we are.

So there you have it.  The year of rebirth.  The year of really digging deep and connecting with who we really are, and really living that truth to the very best of our ability.

And yeah, living it up while you can.

 

Out of curiosity, I consulted the fairy oracle to see if they too were in tune with the idea of renewal for the year, and what do you know…..They feel Vacation is still a good theme for this year as well.  Or maybe they are trying to tell me they are on vacation and to quit bugging them.

Those damn fairies.

vacation

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Nose to the Glue Gun

I taped my Burlesque pasties back on this past September.

I wouldn’t say I am in full on Foxy mode, as I have yet to incorporate the hoop back into new numbers, or perform older numbers.

Hooping is still quite cumbersome and trying.

The effort to actually….jump…even a few inches.. is akin to the feeling of twenty pound weights tied around ones ankles.

It doesn’t help my on going problem of balance and stability.

So sans hoop I have been going.

I will say though that my costuming has improved quite a bit.  Not to say that I had shitty costumes before, but the effort for me…on some things were a few ruffles sewn in here and there.

One of the biggest appeals of burlesque for me was all the glitter, sparkley, fluffy, shiny fun things one could wear.   (You basically can wear anything.  That old potato sack?  Couch cover?  Dining room curtains? Pot holders?  Just throw some glitter on it.  Good to go.)

I have become best friends with my glue gun.  (And pretty much burned the fingerprints off my fingers.)

For my Troupe’s Vegas show I put together two showgirl looks…..

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Ok it’s hard to tell really and I didn’t get a good picture of me looking Vegasy…but you get the idea.  Definitely more bling going on.

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Bling!

 

I did a real cute number where I was trying to get this man to notice me while we were waiting for our bus to Vegas.  Coyly flirting at first, then as my subtle advances fell on uninterested eyes, I would punch it up a notch with more lascivious moves and then burying the mans face in my bosoms.  (The man kindly played by my fiance…as I don’t think he would have approved of me motor boating some other dude….and not that I would want to motorboat some other dude.)  I would post the video, but it was during this performance I had my very first pastie pop.   Took me a whole good five seconds to realize it as well.  So, there you go world.  You got some nipple from me.  Ehh whatever. I wasn’t that bent about it.

Our Halloween show, I took a more..bizarre road?

I definitely wanted to up the creep factor.  So this is what I came up with.

 

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I’m not really sure how this one went over with the crowd.  Personally, I thought it was creepy.  I busted out my poi, which is something I hadn’t done in a loooooooong while.  And let me just say, spinning poi in a poofy crinoline skirt is not easy.

Overall I am pretty proud of this one.  I feel it’s pretty unique, to my local scene anyway.

You can see the video to that here: Foxy Moon Halloween

No pastie pop there, though I do have a moment to make sure everything is intact. 🙂

 

The last show I did for the year was a Heavy Metal Food drive for our local food bank.   Our troupe did a improve-ish group number.  I dressed as an elf and made the whole group reindeer pasties, because honestly….how could I not??  They were so F’n cute and fun.

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Move over Rudolph.

 

There you have it.  Or there I have it.  My getting back into the waters of burlesque.  I’ve got some down time till next April, and I’ve got some more silly ideas.  I would like to get back to hooping.  I know that I could.  It just takes time and discipline.  Yet the whole ordeal with cancer has made me very flippant towards anything that requires “hard” work.  I mean, I just worked hard on beating a fucker of a disease and pretty much, oh you know, not dying.  I’m not really ready, nor want to do battle with learning how to hoop all over again.  But I know I will, because I can feel it calling to me.  I may never be the best hooper in the world.  Shit, I may not ever be a decent hooper again, but something inside me loves it to much to just walk away and be done with it for good.

I just don’t want to deal with that struggle right now.

 

Jackyl

A lot of time has passed since I’ve last posted (Does anyone read this anyways?)

So much time in fact, that I am nearing the one year anniversary of my “D” day.

The day I was diagnosed with cancer.

 

It’s a strange feeling.

There are times when I am at the cancer center for a check up or blood work, and I am transported back in time when my life revolved around those hospital stays.

It makes me almost feel lost again.

The thought of me getting back to “life” somehow feels adrift.  There is this feeling that I should be on my way back up to the third floor for another round of treatment.  Another week of lasix, heavy chemo, and major fatigue.

Funny what you get used to when you bitch about not wanting to get used to something.

Maintenance has been slow going.  Every two weeks I am pulled off of something due to my white blood cell count being to low still, or my liver enzymes being to elevated.  At the present moment I am on nothing.  Which worries me slightly that I will have to stay on maintenance longer than anticipated, but my Oncologist assures me that I am doing just fine and not to worry.

And really, I’m not all that worried.  But it does sit in the back of my mind.  That all the progress I’ve made in the past few months, could be taken away from me once again.  Just like that.  One day I will wake up and there will be the petechiae all over my legs.  The incredible fatigue that was once so encapsulating.  The ache in my joints that left me immobile.  Being dumped on death’s doorstep once again.

Ok.  So I was never on the doorstep.  More like on the block.  But I got the fuck out of there, and I know I would get the fuck out of there again if I had to.  But I’m not going back there.

Ever.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Move Your Feet

 

Not much has been going on since my last treatment of Hyper Cvad.  Well nothing medical.

I started maintenance and everything seems to be ok.  Though I do still feel tired at times, but not the extent of what it once was. ( Go Hemoglobin!)

Other than the fatigue and my liver enzymes being slightly elevated from the oral chemo, (which I was told to stop for a few days to see if they level out or if they need to adjust the dosage.) I’ve been doing pretty good.

Actually really pretty good.

As per previous bitch and whine fests, I am still “cleaning up” cancer’s shit fest, and expect I will be cleaning up for some time.

As fleeting as it is, time is all I have these days.

I’ve been trying to incorporate some work out activity, but I’ve noticed that my legs feel stiffer when I move.  I walk with the gait of a 80 year old who has just had a hip replacement.  The backs of my ankles just feel tight and strained and unwilling to bend to the fluidity that is needed to put one foot in front of the other and walk.  It’s as if all of a sudden I am living out my nightmares of not being able to move.  More specifically, to walk.  Those dreams of feeling like my feet are cemented to the ground and it takes every ounce of will to lift them.  However, in real life I push those damn legs to do what they were evolved to do.  Move.

Because of the intensity and severity of the chemo, lack of bone density and osteoporosis has began to show in my femurs.  A regiment of Vitamin D has been added to my cache of pills I have to take on the daily.

I have been trying to incorporate more physical activities to my day.  Working out specifically or walking, though the dedication and discipline of the work outs are not sticking.  Some days I’m on it….other days I’m just too tired and would much rather lay on the couch reading and eating a box of Milk Duds.

And Milk Duds aren’t doing anything for my ass and thighs.

I’ve been hooping here and there, but nothing of great extent.  My body still feels heavy when I try to perform certain moves.  My legs especially.

Even though I have grown quite distasteful towards my physical appearance, I have decided to join in my troupe’s upcoming burlesque show.  I won’t be doing a hooping number, as I am no where up to par with my hoop abilities, so I will be doing a traditional bumps and grinds number.  I’m actually quite excited about the idea of the number, so I hope I can execute it in a fun, silly and flirty way.

Now if I could just get excited about my stomach, butt & thigh ripples, that would be even awesomer.

 

 

 

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