Remember when you were in your 20s and everything seemed possible? I think that’s what self care should be.
I am trying to practice more. I started with a weekend getaway with my dear friends Russell and Matthew at Pensacola Beach.
Dinner, shopping, brunch, and an evening watching a movie – a perfect weekend. There was no rush and even a McDonald’s Diet Coke (if you know, you know). Most importantly, there was uninterrupted friend time.
I started to remember I could be fun and sans alcohol. These days, hot flashes are the worst mixed with even 2 glasses of wine.
Now, I am ready to come home to my husband and kiddos, fully energized and missing them.
We get lost in the shuffle of everyday life and lose a piece of ourselves slowly. I’m determined to get her back.
I am writing this to remind myself it’s okay to do these things when you can. Life should be lived in moments. I’m going to soak all of this in.
Now I’m ending my weekend my favorite meal breakfast. I’m sitting by myself thinking of all that’s to come, and I’m genuinely excited. It’s all possible. Living life to the fullest and loving yourself. It is- go now friend, book the trip, buy the shoes, and eat the damn blueberry pancakes.
I can hear the sound of the little bells that adorned her collar when she first came home with us. She hid in our laundry basket. She started as what appeared to be a normal-sized kitten, but within a week, her feet grew. She loved when we would make the bed, and she’d be under the sheets. She loved to sneak up on you and loved chirping at the birds in our big window in our first home. You could see the river in the distance.
She was our Maine Coon and would soon be a fixture in our lives for over 14 years.
When my husband went to law school and would study, she remained by his side, a constant study partner and companion. When we brought our oldest home, she stood on her hind legs and peered into the portable cradle at the newborn. She loved chewing on ribbon and our fake Christmas tree. She loved the challenge of a laser light.
She had a routine. Every morning, she’d be up by 6, singing the song of her people, indicating that it was time to eat. Her meow sounded more like a “hello?!”
She tolerated both boys during their toddler years and mustered up as much patience as she could. Near the end, she hissed more but never struck out. She’d grown arthritic. I knew that we were living on borrowed time.
Her favorite spot by her favorite person, my husband, is where she took her last breath. She did not ring in the new year with us; she left with a few hours to go before the new year began.
This morning was eerily silent. The routine was now broken and replaced with a new normal in which we will have to adjust.
Animals are a blessing from God, and boy, were we blessed to have her- Polly, the Maine Coon Princess Warrior. Arrived as a birthday gift from my mother-in-law to both my husband (and me) and left this earth on New Year’s Eve 2025.
We will miss you! Enjoy naps on clouds and a renewed sense of energy. Keep St. Peter on time when it’s time eat. Look after us and wait for us.
All the 2000s vibes this evening scrolling through memory lane looking at old Delia’s catalog photos and listening to Lithium on XM. 9
Am I too old to wear a long skirt with combat boots? Probably.
I wanted to dress like Audrey Hepburn and Diane Keaton. I wanted to dress like the models in Delia’s and Seventeen magazines.
I loved my Calvin Kleins. I loved my spaghetti strap shirts.
I loved my bell bottoms and my shirt from David’s Gallery.
I wanted to be different. My own person. I wanted my own style.
Now I’m 40 and still love clothes, but my style has changed to match job, but deep inside there is a Combat Boot Audrey Hepburn princess dying to make a comeback.
In two days, I’ll have my 5th PET scan since initially being diagnosed in 2021. The scan itself is relatively easy (albeit I hate not being able to eat). The tricky part of this game is purely mental. For me, it starts right about now (2 to 3 days prior). A kind of dread sets in. Remember, the cartoons, where the dark cloud would appear over the main character’s head? That’s me. However, I try my best not to let my anxiety interfere with my daily life.
I tell myself that this scan is a scheduled nap. As a mom, I can always appreciate some alone time and a quick snooze. I try to color my thoughts away on the way to Birmingham (yes, I am 40 with a coloring book, but it is a good distraction). I also like listening to Dateline, as Lester Holt tells the story of a murder. Surprise, surprise! It’s a family member. I comment to myself to humor myself, “What? I knew it was her or him!”
The reward after my scheduled nap is FOOD! I am much like my father. When our feet hit the floor, it’s time to eat, and for me, that also includes a Diet Coke (prefer out of the fridge in a can).
Then, there’s the wait for the oncologist to come in. The band Europe usually plays in my head- It’s the final countdown! I try to talk to my husband, who is by my side, but it’s hard. Mentally, I’m playing a tennis match in my head. What was the name of that commentator at the US Open? Mary Carillo? She’s commenting on my match. “Ashley has no symptoms, lost no weight, and is still active,” Mary tells John McEnroe. John adds, “That’s right, Mary. She shows no visible signs. We will have to wait and see what the oncologist says. You know, Mary, I’d smash a few more racquets if I had cancer.” Mary to John, “Indeed, John, indeed.” I try to silence Mary and John, but they are pretty persistent in their commentary, and no one wants to piss off John McEnroe.
After he comes in and explains the scan, I find a way to take it all in and prepare for questions that my family may ask.
On the way home, I’m mentally exhausted and try to nap. I try to process what I’ve been told. During the 2-hour ride, I try to prepare to be a mom again when we pick up the kids. Some days, I have to take a day for myself to feel normal again, but I try my best to get up and go to work like normal. My husband can sense on those rides there and back that it’s hard for me to be normal, act normal. I know it’s hard on him as well. There’s not much control we have over the situation, which, as humans, is what we naturally desire: control. In reality, there is only perceived control. It’s not to say all scans have been bad. It’s a different game when you are playing in the 9th inning.
The cycle repeats in the coming months as we prepare for another scan.
So, as the clock chimes like in Vecna’s house, I will wait for another scan. I’ll busy myself with writing, playing in forts built by master builder Anderson Coplin, and watching movies with William Michael. I will try to be as normal as possible.
Scan anxiety is real, but it will not defeat me. What Mary and John may have forgotten is that I, too, played tennis back in the day. I wasn’t too shabby. I will take what comes at me and hit it back. I will score the next point.
Warning: This blog is not suitable for all audiences. Viewer discretion advised. This is my effort to understand my feelings and emotions as they relate to Stage 4 Cancer. I love Stranger Things.
With all treatments with all chronic diseases comes the dreaded side effects. If the disease was not enough, now you have side effects to deal with it too. Like those God awful side effects read and are portrayed in commercials, cancer medications are similar. This medication may cause drowsiness, weight gain, picking your nose in public, uncontrollable urge to slap someone, etc.
Okay, so it doesn’t cause nose picking or the urge to slap someone. But, the medication does cause one side effect that is not fun. It leads to irregularity- which means I can’t go or I have to Go. And not I can wait until I get my grocery pick up but now which means going into the store which was what I was trying to avoid. The lady in front of me, I am sure who is very kind, is taking her time headed to the same location. Bless her sweet soul, she doesn’t know but I’m dying, slowly and praying no one runs into me and ask how our Christmas was. Gosh, I love my small town but in these moments, I need to save the Hallmark moment for another time.
Whew, I make it by the grace of the Lord above. Part of the problem is that I need to calcium because I’m in menopause but can’t have too much because then I can’t go. Then, I am borderline diabetic which means I can’t eat a lot of carbs and you know what I love that doesn’t have a lot of carbs- cheese. I love cheese.
Therefore, I’ve got to do better but everything I love is bread, pasta and cheese. No no’s. Breaking habits is hard. Weight loss in early menopause even harder. I’m not complaining just explaining my reality.
So, what does one do, but get up and keep trying. Exercise, make new recipes that call for whatever the hell almond flour is. Choose to fight another day against the Mind Flayer, aka Cancer. Stay tuned to learn more about Cancer Things. Hopefully, I will defeat it once and for all, be an Eleven or sorts.
I’m living my own version of the Upside Down but I’m going to keep fighting. I’m going to turn on the 80’s and fight.
It doesn’t hurt me (yeah, yeah, yo) Do you wanna feel how it feels? (Yeah, yeah, yo) Do you wanna know, know that it doesn’t hurt me? (Yeah, yeah, yo) Do you wanna hear about the deal that I’m making? (Yeah, yeah, yo)
I have always been a person who looks within on how to make changes and grow as a person. Yes, I love a good self help book, blog, devotional, etc. Mid year when I learned that my cancer had come back and I was diagnosed with Stage 4 Breast Cancer, I began to have more doubts than the first diagnosis and my thoughts took a darker turn. I had trouble praying as I was so disappointed. Thank God for my pastor as he told me when I couldn’t pray, he’d pray for me.
I also reached a point where I had to admit that I couldn’t do it all. I had to accept that I couldn’t do it all. That was hard as my personality wants to do it all.
This was the tough part of the year. As I reach the end of the year, I have realized some things as it relates to people and how God uses them. I read somewhere that strong women show up when you need it most and that’s true in my case. This year women in my life have shown up and carried me from simply sending a text, going to lunch to chat, or just letting me be my most vulnerable self. I will forever be grateful for you all. These women work with me at the hospital, they are my dear friend around the corner, fellow warriors, friends from a past job, and of course my two favorite women in this entire world- my mom and sister.
As I type, a lump forms in my throat and my eyes mist as I am so grateful and cannot begin to thank these women enough. I can only hope that I can show up for them as they have for me.
So, what I’ve truly learned this year boils down to two things 1. People will show up when you need them and 2. You’ve got to take care of yourself- love yourself.
So, now to enjoy the remainder of the year, wait on Santa (spoiler Mrs. Claus does it all), and sing all these old Christmas songs I’m listening to- City sidewalks, busy sidewalks; dressed in holiday style in my sweat pants while drinking diet coke (don’t tell me it’s bad for me).
I’ve swapped shopping and eating for actually taking care of myself. I reached this epiphany a few weeks ago, when I finally reached the end of my proverbial rope; in fact, my rope had no more ends from my burnout. Look, it’s on fire, my rope! I had masked my pain and fatigue until I couldn’t anymore. And then I broke. I looked back at my habits- hanging in my closet and the weight that appeared on the scale. I didn’t like what I saw. I had hidden my anxieties in my wardrobe and ate away my feelings.
How had I gotten this far? Did it start when I learned of my Stage 4 diagnosis, or was it piling on from the first diagnosis? I am honestly not sure. I do know that I’ve always been a people pleaser. It’s as though I came into the world, looked at the doctor who brought me into the world, and said, “What can I do for you?”
I do pride myself on being a giver, but lately it’s come at a considerable expense- my mental health. And when you are fighting cancer, they advise not to add any extra stress. Ha! Do they know me? So, knowledge is power, and with power comes great responsibility. What does one do now to change years’ worth of pushing feelings down, a year’s worth of extra weight and clothes?
Instagram tells you to buy a $70 book that’s supposed to be “life-changing.” They also show you images of people who made this change- overnight! I’m guessing the people they hired already looked good and probably don’t have a chronic disease.
So, instead of spending more money, I’ve decided to do all I know to do. Take a step at a time. Don’t look for the entire staircase. It’s kind of like when I had chemo and radiation. One treatment at a time. This time, the therapy is taking care of me, asking for help, exercising, and stopping spending so much damn money. It’s also finding my voice- speaking my mind when necessary. Loving me. Givers struggle with these things. Guilt comes with loving ourselves. I don’t know why we feel guilty, but we do.
I’m listening to my body more and the voices inside my head. I’m asking myself if these are realistic expectations. I’m trying to take my life back over. It’s difficult when your life depends on medication and treatments.
So, I will try, try, and try again. I’ll make good choices, and I’ll make bad choices. I’m only human, of course, but this time, I’ll give myself something that I’ve needed for a long time- grace. Give yourself grace. You deserve it.
I think I’m going to ask the oncologist to prescribe massages. I think insurance should cover. The massage therapist said I was tense. If he only knew!
“You can’t pour from an empty cup.” Just you watch me. I am the Queen of the Empty Cups, your Royal Highness Ashley
Guilt appears throughout my day leaving me feeling overwhelmed and tired. Guilty for not working enough hours in the day before kid pick up arrives. Guilty for not wanting to play with my child at the end of the work day and wanting to rest. Guilty for eating this or that or not eating this or that. Guilty for purchasing something I wanted and not something that was for the kids or my husband. Guilty for not speaking up, guilty for speaking up. Guilty for not exercising, guilty for wanting more sleep. Guilty for wanting a career, to climb a ladder; guilty for going in on the weekends and taking a phone call after hours.
It’s almost a bad Dr. Suess story- will you be guilty in a box? Will you be guilty with a fox in a box? Guilty, I am.
When you are sick, the guilt feels even thicker. Guilty but now with a time frame. If x = time on earth and y= time spent, then z= is what you have to do despite feeling tired and wanting to free your mind of all its clutter of the day.
When and why did these feelings of guilt appear? When are we enough for ourselves? Why do we feel as if we have to carry the weight of everyone else on our shoulders?
I think the first step is to admit that we feel guilty and to remind ourselves that it’s okay to take care of ourselves. Remind ourselves that we shouldn’t feel guilty. One tiny step at a time. Saying “no” is okay; it doesn’t make you a bad mom, employee, etc.
Resting is a good idea to avoid being too run down and worse, sick. Acknowledging that you have no clue as to when your time will be and living your life is important.
As a type this blog, I am not saying this will be easy. Trust me. I am the worst at pouring from an empty cup until the proverbial cup shatters. I guess what I am saying is to give yourself grace, one moment at a time. With the holiday season here, remind yourself “I am enough.”
Put on some music, your favorite sweats, dance, laugh- love her too. Love her too.
Skank, wrap, yo mama, jank, phat, extra, cornholio, punch bug, as if, MTV Spring Break
The millennials essentially ruled the kingdom before 6 7. And we will always be 67 times better.
Plaid, combat boots, spaghetti strap shirts, hemp necklaces, CK jeans, Green Day, Nirvana, Happy by Clinique
Children raised from the flower generation now in our 40s but still wishing we were in our ragged out bell bottoms or new balances and rolled up sofie shorts.
We had angst, but you didn’t hurt our feelings.
We rolled from the club to work wristbands and all. You called in.
No gentle parenting here. The street light told the time. Alanis made us feel cool. Biggie raised us. Live saw into our souls.
God, I miss those times some days. I’m glad we never said 6 7, but then again, we had our own version
Just yesterday mornin’, they let me know you were gone– James Taylor
There were so many things I wished I had said to you that day. You were my cheerleader and one of my biggest supporters. You were so selfless- more worried about me- as you told me, “Ashley, you have young children” in referencing my current cancer battle. I told you that we play the cards that we are dealt and friends you played yours so well. Your light shown so brightly for me and others to see.
My friend, you’ve now gone, to watch over us from above. I’m going to miss our talks. Your light has been passed on to me and friend; your light will still shine. The torch of representing this dreaded disease is not extinguished when one of us passes away. It is simply passed on to the next. I carry it with pride for the ones that have gone on before me.
The words I wished I had said: “Thank you for loving me and sharing in your battle. Thank you for being so kind and accepting me. We didn’t know each other in another life but I loved you in this life. Thank you for showing me what grit and determination look like and your faith- well there are no words to accurately describe how faithful you were to God, your friends and family. I love you.”
The Peach 