Tag Archives: Inspiration

Storms Don’t Last Forever

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Storms don’t last forever. It’s a mantra I’ve found myself needing to think a lot lately. 
 
It’s been over 5 months since I was diagnosed but it feels like a century. When the 20th of the month hit, it felt hard to believe that I’m not even to the halfway point. Scratch that, in the grand scheme of things, I’m not even to the quarter mark. Spring 2016 feels like an eternity away. And in the middle of Summer 2014, the thought of that date gets me down. Taking it day by day is most definitely the best way to complete this challenge. But I’m not a day-by-day type of person. I love looking to the future. I’ve always been like that… looking forward to what’s next, striving for a bigger and better goal. But in this case, when the goal is so far away and there’s a lot of “mehhh” in the middle, looking to the future feels more like a daunting task rather than an exciting endeavor. 
 
I wrote this yesterday in the middle of the afternoon, sitting on my couch, basically just feeling sorry for myself. 
“I just want my life back. I want it back so so so bad. I want to go to work. I don’t want everyone to have to take care of me and do favors for me. I want to have a drink. Go for a run. Do laps in the pool at my sports club. Eat raw sushi. I want to go on the vacation Mike and I had planned to the Dominican. I want to not feel worried all the time or have so much anxiety. I want to get a paycheck. I want my boyfriend to not have to give me shots in my stomach every night. I want to get a manicure and pedicure. I want to not think about cancer every second of every day.” 
 
Those negative emotions are all I could think yesterday. All I could feel is how much I want my life back. However, reading it back, I feel guilty. I beat myself up when I have pitty parties for myself because it makes me feel so ungrateful and unappreciative of what I’ve been given. I’ve been given the gift of being able to fight and overcome this terrible disease. Not everyone is as lucky— that’s a thought that goes through my mind multiple times a day. I am lucky and I know it. But the truth is, I sit here today and I still ache for my old life. I still want more than anything to wake up from this bad dream and be a healthy, normal 25 year old. I try so hard to be strong but sometimes it’s just too overwhelming, too draining, too frustrating. But today’s different than yesterday. How much different? Not much. But I’m one day closer and two shades happier. Tomorrow I’ll be at the hospital all day and will be getting another bone marrow biopsy done to triple check that there are no leukemia cells in my body. So tomorrow’s a big day. It won’t be a fun day, so today had to be. Today I cooked and went to the super market and received a pair of fabulously comfy slippers from a coworker and am about to go to an outdoor yoga class which will be the first time I’ve done group exercise in over 5 months. It’s a better day than yesterday and Thursday will be a better day than tomorrow. 
 
Storms are scary. There are large cracks of thunder, lightening that illuminates the sky and sets fire to things here on earth, heavy rains that come in sideways and make you cold and wet. Often times in a storm, you even lose power. Sometimes, the lights just flicker and other times you can lose it for hours and even days. But the light always comes back on. The thunder and lightening and rain, they always stop. The clouds always break and that big beautiful sun always comes shining through. 
 
XOXO,
Jessy

Milestones

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Today is milestone day. Today marks the end of my brain radiation. It was only an 8 day preventative treatment regimen but it’s another thing to check off “the list” which feels incredible.

All-in-all radiation was strange. The process is pretty simple— you go in, get on the table, strap in, get zapped for a few minutes and then it’s done. It doesn’t hurt and it’s quick, so in that regard, it’s pretty great compared to chemo. However, it’s sneaky because it makes you really exhausted which is never any fun. The worst part, BY FAR, was getting fitted for my mask a few weeks ago. Basically, in order to make sure that my head doesn’t move an inch during the treatment (don’t want to zap the wrong areas), you have to have a mask created specifically for your face that you wear each time. It fits tightly around your face and then locks in place so you can’t move. Definitely would not be ideal for the claustrophobic! But with the help of my girl Beyonce, we blared music throughout the room and it made the few minutes go by quick and painless. Nothing a little Yonce can’t make better.

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So with one of my best friend by my side, I walked out of the Brigham today with my mask in hand and am happy to say that getting my brain radiated is a thing of the PAST. WOOOOOOOOO CHIL’!

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And then we have tomorrow. It will be another long, hard day but at the end of it I get another milestone under my belt. Completion of the CNS (central nervous system) phase.  I will receive more chemotherapy and then one final spinal tap (this is the fourth in a two week period).  But as long as everything goes as planned, this will be my last spinal tap for 18 weeks!!! That’s about as long as I’ve been going through treatment so that my friends, is a very welcome and pleasant change of pace for this young lady!

Milestones are important. They symbolize progression and moving forward. And that’s what I need right now, to keep on keepin’ on. Onward and upward: it’s what it’s all about.

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XOXO,

Jessy

Foggy Days

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Foggy. You can’t see clearly. You can’t think clearly. You can’t feel clearly. Just like with fog on an ocean dock, fog inhibits you from seeing what lies ahead of you.  And that’s how I feel. My whole being feels foggy. Unable to see the brightness of days that inevitably lie ahead. Bogged down by sadness and frustration; physical pain and exhaustion.

Last week was hard. Really hard. This week is better but still hard. It all seems like SO much. So overwhelming. So many medications, chemotherapy and brain radiation sure has a way of making you feel out of it, making you feel not you. And that’s exactly how I’ve felt, not myself. In a way, I feel disconnected to my own life. Like I am in somebody else’s crappy body. Somebody else’s negative mind. I’m a happy person. To my core, I’m happy. I love life. I love smiling. I love laughing. I genuinely enjoy being positive. I get excited over little things. And I love that. So when I feel unhappy, when I feel like it’s an effort to smile or to laugh or to get excited, it doesn’t feel like me. And that hurts. That’s a pain that no spinal tap can replicate.

As Mike and I were watching Father of the Bride 2 and Nina was just about to have the baby, she looked up at George Banks and said “Isn’t this just so amazing?” I instantly got emotional. Not because I was so moved by the film but because I felt so jealous of Nina. (she’s a character, I know.) But I felt so jealous that she was lying in a hospital bed, just like I had been all week, and that she got an incredible baby at the end of it. I want a baby, I thought. Because a baby is a miracle, a blessing. A baby truly is amazing. Now, don’t go all “omg she wants a baby?!?!?!” on me because clearly I don’t want a baby right this second but watching this character receive so much joy brought me a sense of sadness because that “amazing” feeling seems so far away. Sounds so dumpy, I know, but it’s how I felt.

But then I sit here, writing that paragraph out and I know in my heart it’s not true. It’s exactly how I felt. 100% truth. Whole-heartedly how I looked at that moment. But as I reread what I write, I know that although it’s sometimes so hard to remember that there’s an end to this race, that there’s a light to the end of this tunnel, I have faith that there will be brighter, happier, fog-free days ahead. In fact, those special, amazing moments, although they may not be as obvious or glamorous as some of life’s big moments, they’re still here. Despite it all, amazing things are still happening to me.

Like when a complete stranger came up to me at the Michael Buble concert on Friday and told me to be strong and that my hair would grow back more beautiful than ever. That she had “been there, done that” and that everything was going to be okay. That’s amazing. She doesn’t know me, she doesn’t know my story or my diagnosis but somehow this woman knew that I needed that little push last week. I needed to be reminded that this too shall pass. I needed a little miracle. And in that moment, my mind felt anything but foggy. It felt clear and precise and happy because I was meant to be there, finding comfort from a complete stranger. That was meant to happen to me. Now that, that’s amazing.

XOXO,

Jessy

p.s. Speaking of amazing, here are some pics from our family vacation on the Cape last week!

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What a Week Can Do

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One week ago today, I was running on about an hour of sleep, crushing a 101+ fever, puking up anything I tried to consume, sitting in a hospital bed, and thoroughly pissed off. 

Today, I’m getting things down around the house, sipping on green tea, watching birds enjoy my bird bath (so chute), enjoying being in my house, listening to Sam Smith and feeling thankful for having just had such a wonderful weekend. What a difference a week can make. 

I got out of the hospital on Friday and it weirdly took me the whole night to mentally “feel better.” I couldn’t really kick the anxiety I felt from being locked up in the hospital for five days. For some reason, this stay really kicked my ass and even Regina’s pizza couldn’t get me out of my funk. But Saturday was a new day, a better day and the start of the weekend hit the “reset” button. Mike and I walked around Harvard’s “Arnold Arboretum” on Saturday which was perfect. In the city, but I felt so far away from the hustle and bustle of Boston. There were gorgeous flowers, endless walking trails, and my best friend holding my hand– couldn’t ask for much more. I even removed my baseball cap for a bit (which felt amazing) and we walked around as the beautiful bald-headed couple we are right now. 

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After walking around for two hours, we headed to my old stomping grounds in Brookline to enjoy an early dinner on the outside patio at Barcelona, the same restaurant we went on our first date in Connecticut. Meat & cheese, soft shell crab, grilled cheeses with “jamon,” salad, and mussels… we rolled out of there.  

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Sunday, Mike went golfing went with his brother and a few friends as I contently cleaned up around the house and did some errands (one week of getting nothing done makes cleaning such a fun thing!). I then headed to Mansfield to spend the afternoon with Mike’s sister-in-law and nieces. Elle, who’s almost three, loves princesses, reenacting Disney movie scenes and is the sassiest little thing around. I’m obsessed. There’s nothing quite like playing in a “castle” tent, pretending everyone else are monsters and chatting about earrings, pink dresses and dolls. So lucky am I to have that little nugget in my life. Doesn’t matter if you’re having a bad day to a 3 year old, she’ll make it better. 

I hope you too had a wonderful weekend and got to do things that made you smile. Happy Monday! 

XOXO,

Jessy 

All the Little Things

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While finishing my yoga practice this afternoon, as I always do, I thought about the things I have gratitude for. Things like “the life I’ve been given” or “my family” always pop into my head but today a bunch of little things popped in too. Things that, although small, are so wonderful in this life.

Things like:

birds chirping outside my window while I’m laying in bed
the smell and sense of calmness from a good candle burning
the refreshing feeling you get from drinking a cold glass of water
cuddling
all the yumminess that is a slice of cheese pizza
scratching a winning lottery ticket. even if it’s only $1
the happiness inside me while listening to a favorite song
slow dancing
a good belly laugh
Often when I’m being “thankful” for things in life, I tend to think only of the big things, like family, friends, health, love, but it’s important to also think about the little things in life that make your core smile. Because those things make make life great too, they’re the “warm and fuzzies” that make life special and wonderful. And so those things too, along with all the “big stuff,” I feel so very thankful for.
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XOXO,
Jessy

Count On It

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I was looking at my Instagram account this morning. Flicking through picture after picture and quickly, I got to “BC” pics, or “Before Cancer.” I’ve looked at old pictures a lot in the past three months, there’s a sense of such warmth and goodness to looking at smiles on my friends and family faces. And smiles on myself, reminding me of a life that I was living and loved so much. However, today when I was looking at these pictures, it felt like a previous time. Like a past life. A time that I’ll never get back. Because the truth is, I really will never get it back. I’ll never be the same girl I was when I rang in 2014. But in all honesty, how could I ever think I would be the same person? It wouldn’t make any sense. As with anything difficult in life, you can’t go through it and stay the same person. Isn’t that the whole point of the journey? I remember ringing in the New Year and thinking about just how amazing 2014 was going to be. I had just moved in with Mike a few months before and things were going swimmingly. I had just gotten my first promotion and would be beginning to work on a new brand, doing new and exciting things. I had an adorable 4 month old niece who I loved more than I knew was possible. I had amazing friends and an amazing family. I was feeling truly at the right place at the right time. I was feeling like this was my time. Things were falling into place and years of hard work were starting to come together. I could see clearly of where I was headed, what I wanted to do. And then January 14th I woke up in the middle of the night with the feeling like a tractor trailer was crushing my tailbone. It would take over a month to figure out what that crushing feeling was exactly but I think of that moment now as so symbolic. Symbolic of how quickly life can change. How quickly things can completely take a different turn. Logically, I know that that wasn’t the exact moment that the leukemia hit my blood stream but in my mind, I think of it like that. I think of it like I went to bed on January 13th a normal, healthy 24 year old and I woke up, on January 14th with my life being crushed and ran over by the leukemia tractor trailer. What’s even more symbolic is the fact that I would be struck by this disease, by this horrible, horrible disease on the very day that person who has saved me through all of this was born. January 14th is Mike’s birthday. Mike has made me laugh when nobody else can. He’s made me smile when I’m grumpy. He’s given me hugs when I don’t want to be touched. He’s kissed my forehead when tears are running down my face. He’s made me genuinely happy…happy in a time when I could never have imagined being happy. He truly is my angel. And so it feels fitting that my modern-day angel would be born on the day that I began to truly need him, to depend on him in all the ways a person can really depend on someone other than their self.

As I’m sitting here at my kitchen table writing this post, I’ve lost all sense of my emotions. (it’s probably not helping that Florence & the Machines are on in the background and it’s raining heavily outside). But I can’t stop crying and I don’t really know why. I’m having such mixed emotions. I feel so physically and mentally exhausted today. But at the same time, I feel sharp. Recounting in my head all that I’ve been through and thinking about all I will continue to go through has brought me to a sense of clarity. Maybe it is still my time after all.
The question “Why me?” has gone through my head a thousand times. I’ve probably thought it 10 times just sitting here writing this post. But it suddenly dawned on me that I should stop questioning “why me” and try to feel grateful for being “chosen” to go through this journey. If I view it as something I was chosen for rather than something that just unfortunately “happened” to me, it gives this whole experience a bigger purpose. So why was I chosen? Why me? Because I can deal with it. Because I am so much stronger and better than this disease. Because I am blessed with family and friends that are so much better and bigger than this disease. Because I will walk away from this disease and be a better person. A stronger person. A more caring person. A more giving person. A person that helps others and makes a difference in the world. “AC” Jessy will be so much better than “BC” Jessy.
Count on it.
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XOXO,
AC Jessy

Just Keep Going

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It’s Tuesday after Memorial Day Weekend which is always a bummer. A long weekend long awaited for is over. And even though I’m not currently working I still somehow feel the “Monday blues” (or in this case the Tuesday blues). Weekends I’m not alone, I’m not in the hospital, I get to “get out” and do things. So with or without work, I’ve learned that weekends are always the best. This long weekend seemed extra awesome— I felt so grateful to be feeling strong and getting to spend time with my love, my friends and my family. What more can you ask for?
This Sunday, Mike and I did something we never really do… we went to church. My Grammy had mentioned that the Old North Church in Boston (“One if by land, and two if by sea” church) still holds masses so we decided to go to the 11am. History and a little spiritual pick-me-up… not a bad combination. Plus, today’s a big day (stilllllllll anxiously awaiting to hear from my doctors) so I thought putting in an extra prayer in the big man’s house might not be too bad of an idea. After scurrying in at 11:05, we sat down in our own pew (which in this church is like your own little penalty box. Big fan). I always dreaded church growing up, couldn’t get myself to pay attention (gotta be honest, still have a hard time), and never really understood what they were talking about. But this time felt different since I chose to go myself. So as I sat there in a little pew right next to the windows, in a place that I don’t think has been updated since 1772, I was surprised as I realized how much I was enjoying myself.
The minister gave a quick homily as there was a baptism also during this mass.  To be honest, I don’t exactly remember what the whole homily was about but I do remember this: she told a story about how Jesus had said to his disciples to just keep going (regarding what, I have no clue. Exhibit A of my attention span). She looked out to all of us, and urged us too, to just keep going. That line rang through my head the rest of the mass, “just…keep…going.” I felt like she was speaking directly to me… I felt like I came to this mass specifically to hear those words. I needed to hear those words as those three words are exactly what I have to do. I need to keep pushing on, keep moving forward, keep keeping my head up, keep being positive, keep being happy, keep being thankful…. I need to just keep going.
The past few weeks have been hard. I’ve been so anxious about whether or not the leukemia has come back that I’ve felt like I’m sitting on pins and needles.  But at the end of the day, the results I’ll get tonight or tomorrow are out of my control. Letting the “what if’s” take hold does nothing but bring me down and cause chaos in my head. Those fleeting moments, however, create a feeling like I can’t keep going, like this is all just too much. But then I do things that make me smile, like going for long walks, doing yoga, dancing around by myself to One Direction, accepting nightly back rubs from Mike (he really is the best), or even taking out my aggression on a Bozo the clown blow-up doll. Those things, as trivial as they are, make me feel good, they make me feel alive, and rejuvenated. And because of those little things in life, I’m able to realize I can absolutely do this. That this is A LOT but it’s not something I can’t handle. I can keep on keepin’ on.
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I hope you all had a wonderful Memorial Day Weekend and are able to make it through the work week. But if you’re feeling the Tuesday Blues right now, remember…JUST.KEEP.GOING.
XOXO,
Jessy

The Little Things Matter

Wanted to share this video as a friend shared it with me a few days ago and I thought it was beautiful. It’s a great example of how you don’t have to do grandiose gestures to make a difference. It’s the little things that you do in your life that make a difference.

Plus, this is the Inspiration Initiative after all isn’t it? So get inspired. Do something nice for someone else today!

Xoxo,
Jess

What a Wonderful World

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Last night Mike and I slowed danced in the living room. It’s something we’ve always liked to do but I look forward to it even more lately as it’s a special few moments just between the two of us. Right as one 1950’s song ended and we were about to clean up from supper, Louis Armstrong’s “What a Wonderful World” came on. We continued to dance. 
 
As we continued on in our little romantic comedy and I listened to the lyrics, I thought about just how meaningful this song really is to me. It’s a song that when I was about 5, my sister and I sung to our Nanny and Bumpa at their 40th wedding anniversary and whenever I hear it brings me back to my childhood and fills my heart with so much warmth and happiness. It played on a day that for the first time in over two weeks I felt good. I felt like myself. I felt silly and happy and energetic. As it played and Loius sung about red roses blooming, I couldn’t believe that on the same day I had seen the first set of tulips pop their beautiful blossoms through the dirt. Spring officially sprung for me yesterday. 
 
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Spring brings such a magical feeling here in New England. It’s the end of short, cold days. The end of a dreary, dull winter. And the beginning of long, warm days. The beginning of a season full of sunshine and color. Spring truly does create a sense of hope. Hope that the days ahead will be better and brighter than those of the past. This year, that sense of hope is so empowering and invigorating for me. I needed spring (I think we all did). I needed to see those tulips pop through. It signified the start of something new. Something that is beautiful and brilliant. Susan Bissonette said, “An optimist is the human personification of spring.” And so this year (and hopefully every year going forward), I will strive to be just like spring. 
 
Today I get to write this sitting on my back porch, breathing in crisp beautiful fresh air. It’s a bit nippy and while I would typically complain, this year I don’t mind being a little chilly. I don’t mind because as I feel the wind whip on my face, I feel so alive and it reminds me of the days I sat in that hospital room looking out the window wishing I could feel this wind and hear those birds chirp. And because of that, I think to myself…what a wonderful world it truly is.  
 
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XOXO, 
Jessy