Thursday, April 12, 2012

I miss normal. I miss me.

I miss normal.
I miss feeling good.
I miss my hair.
I miss my taste buds.
I miss the energy I used to take for granted.
I miss the feeling in my fingertips. 
I miss leaving the house without having to decide whether to wear a scarf or a wig on my head.
I miss my imagination.
I miss... God, there's so much more. 

What it comes down to is that I simply miss me.

Yesterday and today kind of tossed a few of those things that I miss right back in my face. I visited with some great friends at this year's Romantic Time's convention (which is being held here in Chicago) -- then I came home and got really sad.

I didn't want to feel so worn out at my publisher's party last night. I didn't want to sit on the sidelines and watch everyone else out on the dance floor having fun. I didn't want to drink water instead of having a glass or two of wine. I didn't want to have to go to bed as early as I did.

Don't get me wrong -- I loved all the hugs. The gentle hands rubbing my back. I loved everyone telling me how good I looked, even though I hate that there is a reason they wanted to tell me that. I loved meeting those people in person that I've known for years only online. I loved seeing all the friends I've made at all the conventions I'd attended before. I loved the laughs I shared. All of that was so great.

It's just that I miss the old me. The girl who would do up her hair just-so before the party started. The girl who would've had at least one glass of red (and hell, probably more) before the night was over. The girl would would've been out on that dance floor shakin' her groove thang until the party was shut down, the girl who would've then moved on with the other party-goers to the bar or lobby to just sit and talk (and maybe have another drink).

I miss that girl, damn it. I miss the hell out of her.

I'm told she's still around, somewhere inside me. She may come out the other end of this cancer gig the same, and she may not. I don't know what to expect, and I'm not going to lie and say that doesn't freak me out a little.

Something new pops up for me every day, whether it be an emotion, a side effect or something else I have to struggle through. There is no normal for me right now. My old normal will never be again, and I get a little wiggy when I think too hard on what my new normal has in store for me. For now, though, I don't have any choice other than to take a deep breath and try to accept what I've been handed. A lot of the things I miss are temporarily gone, I understand that. My hair will fill in. My energy level will build up. My tasted buds and my wilted imagination will make a return appearance. I'm just hoping that the girl I miss, the old me, I just hope that she decides to comes back to me, too.


  1. She's there, but she's growing, hon. She'll be back new and improved and knowing even more what really matters. It takes time to trust in normal once things settle. In the meantime, hate, rant, miss and bitch all you want. Know what? That's normal!

  2. I agree with Aileen. You are still you. Only more. And believe it or not, better. It's a hell of a ride to go on to enrich your soul and your creativity, but you have something many of us will never have--an appreciation for all the little things in each day.

    That appreciation is going to buoy you up on the other side of this so that everything you do, big and small, becomes a beacon of wonder and joy both to yourself and others. Even your writing will benefit. While you have not been given much of a choice about this journey or the route, you're going to bring beautiful treasures home with you.

    And in the meantime? Hell yeah. Let yourself mourn. It's part of the process, and we'll all hold your hand and love you just as much (if not more) for sharing all of yourself with us.

    Hugs and love,

  3. There's always the NEW normal--the one who has encompassed so much loss and continued forward--the one who has put one foot in front of the other every single day even when she didn't want to--the one who is now more sensitive toward others who are going through difficult times--the one who is the best example of "Hanging in there" I've ever seen--the one who is the model for those of us who will have to follow in her footsteps (1/3 of the rest of us)--the new normal is a better, kinder, smarter, more wonderful you. Your exhuberant personality may be temporarily cut back a little or pruned a little, but you are growing back stronger, better, brighter than you were before--And I didn't know it was possilbe to BE better than you WERE. I thought you were pretty good already!

  4. I've been in your shoes, girl - twice! The old you is right there, and she's just on standby, waiting to take the world by storm when all the lovely-crappy-hoop-la is over and done with. And let me assure you - you'll go through life with much more zest, more gusto, more 'life', than you could've ever imagined. Every moment is THE real thing, every single second is an experience that counts. That's a gift and a blessing cancer gives a survivor (and any other disease/issue that changes life as you 'knew' it).

    Yes, hair grows, and you'll probably have curly/wavy hair when it comes back. :) Energy returns, but you're so revved up to tackle everything right then, right there, that you wish you had more. Today I'm more a powerhouse than I've ever been, than I ever thought I would be, and that's because of the cancer, and how I came out through it all. You will too. Just take this as a break, focus on ploughing right on ahead, and come out the victor!

    And in the meantime, do bitch - it definitely helps! XOXO

  5. My traumas have been so much different from yours--a chronically sick child, now almost a man who will never get well. But your journey touches me, draws me in. Though your "right now" blows, I think you'll find some things along the way worth hanging onto. I think you'll see your life, your world and your self in a radiant new light.Still you, only different. Better in many ways.

    I can truly say while I have wistful moments, mourning the woman and author I almost became, I can also say I have no regrets. My dreams haven't evaporated--they've evolved.

    I would not choose another path--this one is uniquely mine for as long as the Universe chooses. Yours will be too, and I predict an amazing outcome for you.

  6. I want to give you another hug right now, and tell you that the old you will probably be back, only slightly different, and that you'll be everything you were before and more. But I don't know that. And I'm not there to give you another hug. So let me just say this--whatever YOU comes out of this will be just as sweet and kind and beautiful as the you we've all come to know and love. And that is what is important. Love ya. And I miss you already. And even if you did get tired sooner than you wanted and weren't out there dancing, you were still there. You were the only reason I went down to that party that night. LOL. I spent the rest of the night up in the bar.

  7. Kristin,
    I wish I'd been able to attend RT to give you a hug but I think of you all the time and at Romanticon I'll be giving you a bunch of hugs!
    This disease may have changed your now, but it doesn't change YOU! YOU are still wonderful, funny, inspiring, and sexy as hell. YOU still strut, grin, and do all the things you've always done. I know that and I know you're going to kick the Big C's ass and be back stronger and more wonderful than you were before, and damn girl, you were already fierce and fab to start with.
    In the meantime, if you need to bitch or rant or cry, well that's okay and we're here for you cause we love you.

    See you very soon!

  8. Aw, I missed this post in the post-RT craziness that is coming home after a week away. Sweetie, you were very much YOU at RT. Yes, maybe your energy level was low, hell so was mine, and maybe you didn't get to have wine, me neither, but we laughed and hugged and talked and bitched and had the same good time we always have together and will again. I hate that you were sad. And I hate that now I'm hundreds of miles away and can't hug you some more. BTW, Adele loved her little necklace from your favorite store. :)