Clear as a bell, like our wedding day or where we were when 9/11 unfolded, we Cancerchicks can recite verbatim how we were told we had cancer. We can tell you who was with us, where we stood, what we had on, and how many times the phone rang before we reluctantly picked up. Read the rest of this entry »
Archives for category: PTSD
Fire Hose
14
I was chatting with a friend the other day about our respective surprise! divorces. He is about 5 years behind me in the recovery process and admittedly, still struggles with all of the anger and turmoil and the in-your-faceness that is the devastation of a spouse walking out on you. Read the rest of this entry »
I am at war right now. Read the rest of this entry »
When I was a little girl, I loved to jump rope. Read the rest of this entry »
I have this big huge fantabulous Thanksgiving party every year; it’s always on the weekend before thanksgiving. We call it our Charlie Brown Thanksgiving Party. Read the rest of this entry »
So recently, a friend and I were chatting about her last year of sobriety. It is such an immense and intimate and complicated journey, and through her words, I got a sense of the perceived cyclical nature of the beast for people navigating addiction. How this thing hovers above and teases at them, trying to get them to come out and play. How it taunts constantly and how it tries to convince you that sobriety isolates you. Read the rest of this entry »
The Keystone Kops installed my port. Read the rest of this entry »
I am a tough cookie. Very little spooks me and I have been pretty darn fearless about life. Read the rest of this entry »
Ugghh… I really didn’t want to write about this. This is the blog idea in the bottom of the barrel, the one I pretend I don’t see every time I reach in and randomly pull one for new ideas each week. Read the rest of this entry »
When you take a person who is already slightly more neurotic than the average bear, and you add a dose of breast cancer, you find yourself with a girl who thinks she has thigh cancer. Read the rest of this entry »
after five years 