The quiet routine of the evening closes in, and I feel for the first time, motivated to peck away at some of the mountain of work I've been ignoring the last few days. Suddenly I want to make phone calls, do some marketing, build websites and return emails.
I have a pile of notes next to me now, all needing sorting out, to-do lists to be made and acted upon, meetings to figure out.
I realize that I am excited about this mound of work because it is such a lovely, productive and happy distraction- to do the things I love to do, to be busy with fundraisers and business and volunteer work.
I tell myself, I have time right now! I'm motivated!
I realize the lie- that I am letting myself forget what I promised that today I would let myself remember.
It is weird for me to be so dependent on the love notes, messages and just general contact from my friends and loved ones- that I keep clicking, "reload", over and over.
I am ready to be on the other side of this acceptance thing. I know I'm not there yet, I can tell because today I feel exhausted and sad. My mouth feels too heavy to smile, but I lift it anyway because I am happy, I am- and grateful, and loved, and I am also starting to feel the terrible claustrophobic sadness, and confusion, and sadness.
My husband, he is my touch stone. He anchors me to this plane, when I start to float away. His body is love to me, touching his skin reminds me that he exists, and therefore so do I, and that we are not alone because we have each other, and that we are enough, alone-together, to beat cancer. And that having the battalion of people who love me increase my chances of this being nothing, exponentially. Every person that loves me increases my chances of this being a blip on my screen of life, rather than one crushing moment.
If I had to define how I feel right now, the only word that comes to mind is, dry.
I'm going to take this motivation and write a to-do list rather than doing the work, so that tomorrow, when I'm back to 'too busy for cancer', I can get on these things and get them taken care of.
Maybe tomorrow, this stupid-cancer will be funny again.