Stage III: Acceptance and Awareness

I have come to realize I have lived most of my life in theory. Unlike a lot of curious people I always question the traditional, the happen-stance, the why. But I have recently had the epiphany of recalling that early in life I figured out the real and unreal. I guess that is why I cannot be fake or tolerate flakiness. It is why at four-years old, I posed the rhetorical question to my mom that there was no Santa. This truth cost me a few childhood friends or one in particular from second grade, Rhonda. Perhaps the my quest for answers also tends to make me almost over-vigilant in my pursuit, to the degree of not letting it go until I have proven it (right or rarely wrong [ominous laugh inserted].) With Rhonda, I was so baffled that she did not get my logic I was compelled to leave my desk (and school task I was supposed to be doing) to seek the reasonable backup of our teacher’s aide, Ms. Booker. She escorted me back to my desk and told me something along the lines of stop talking about what I did not know and do my work. I was so taken aback. My conclusion to the fiasco was another question, “Did Ms. Booker not know the truth, either?”

I remember having such a hard time with theories of science and different tenets; until inconveniently in my late teens. I realized that most of what I had been taught I could not accept because I was not aware of what it really pertained to – someone trying to prove their truth or idea of it. As children, most of us learn wrong and right, good and evil. We learn it in our own little world, the world we only can accept because it is all we are aware exists at

the time.

Due to my family’s obsession that attractiveness meant skinny (their one shallow point), I was very weight and health aware (as most teens are.) But I had to read theories and research on how foods were digested and chemically broken down. First, I stopped drinking milk when I learned we were the only mammals that drank another animal’s milk after weening. Then I didn’t eat pork when I found out the flesh had some worm/organisms in it. Lastly, when I was required to read The Jungle by Upton Sinclair in tenth grade, which is about exposing the atrocities of work conditions during the industrial revolution. After absorbing it, instead of becoming a human rights activist, I became a vegetarian for the next two and half years.

Oddly, my health issues at present lead me back to the afore mentioned phase I passed off as pure vanity. I ignored my weight and health quite on purpose after having kids. It does not help that I have hubby that has never found me undesirable, no matter my size (a fact that still amazes me.) I also I have made sure my daughters have never heard me say I am fat or on a diet. I wanted my kids to know that beauty and value was from within. But I also told them to take care of their body and it would take care of them. Advice I did not practice thoroughly.

Now, being overweight bothered me, some. But not enough to cease indulgence. I would get back on track for awhile but really had no motivation because I just felt vain. Well the funny thing about avoiding one evil is I accepted another. I thought not being obsessed with health issues meant I would not be faced with them. My theory was to do what I enjoyed when I could because motherhood (among my other jobs) had such high demands. I would be fine no matter how I ate or often I exercised. I swapped vanity for mad neglect. I refused to accept responsibility for what I have been given…life.

So, now I am aware, once again of my health. But for the first time, I am doing it for the right reason. I have to think about death (not dwell on it) if I want to live. I have to think about the life I want, to be able to accept death in eons to come!

I also have recently to accept that my cancer has reoccurred in my breast. I am aware I have to submit to traditional treatment at this point. But I still eat organic as much as I can and make sure my household is as toxin-free as possible on a budget. I have decided that progressive and alternative cannot exist with out reflection on the traditional. I have hated the fact that I had to submit to chemotherapy. But I also know, that my alternative methods kept the rest of me disease-free and gave me an awareness on how all of my life should be; a careful reflection of everything around me. Over the years, I have gone through phases of awareness for different facets of body, mind or spirit. But I have never fused all of them together. This fusion is not without hiccups and growing pains. It is not always fun to critique yourself, honestly. I my case it has become a necessity. I am one of those people that learns things my own way, the hard way.

I still have my theories and doubts. I don’t think I would do it differently (looking back eight months.) Choosing alternative medicine after having a lump removed from my breast was what I was ready to except. I needed the drastic life change. Now that I have started chemotherapy, I realized I needed that time to regain health. Now I in no way like this current scenario, but at this point it is necessary (and what I promised my husband if we had a reoccurrence.) My theory is there has to be a marriage in some way of the alternative and traditional. They each have their place. Once I have all the chemotherapy and probably more surgery, I will return to my Gerson (juice) therapy for a few months to make sure I have thoroughly gotten this crapola kicked in the big rotunda. Then I will maintain a life that is organic, mostly meat-free and sugar-free, with fewer processed foods as well.

Down with cancer, long live me!