Little Love Notes to Remember You Are
I love Valentine’s Day despite the fact my only true Valentine has ever been my husband, Marc, and it wasn’t until my 35th Valentine’s Day I even had an actual person as a Valentine on Valentine’s Day. I just love it…and always have. I love hearts and flowers and cards and chocolate and hoping for/then having a special person to share life with. I loved picking out the little Valentine cards each year from the Current magazine, placing the order and then anxiously waiting for them to arrive complete with the little red heart stickers to seal the back. I loved preparing them for each person in the class, strategically ensuring any card that was remotely romantic did not go to the boys in my class unless I really “liked” them. I loved cutting hearts out of construction paper and covering a shoe box with them along with paper doilies (is that how you even spell that?) in anticipation of collecting Valentines from all the other kids in class. Eek, I’m still so excited just thinking about it.
Valentine’s Day 2019 was early in my treatment and soon after my diagnosis. The uncertainty of whether it was my last Valentine’s Day on this earth was real. We hoped it wasn’t and expected there would be more to follow but it wasn’t guaranteed. I also had chemo that day. It was my final dose of the big, nasty Red Devil Adriamycin and what my body found to be even nastier, Cytoxan. (Fun Fact: Cytoxan is a derivative of mustard gas.) I knew I would feel horrible that day and on into the evening, but it was still a day of celebration!
Marc was my chemo buddy for the day, and the role of chemo buddy had been upgraded that day only to chemo date, and we strolled right into chemo in cocktail party attire sporting the theme, “All Dressed Up to Chemo We Go”, and it was awesome. It was always fun dressing up for my chemo days, but there was something especially and equal parts delightful and bad *ss about poisoning nasty cancer cells while wearing a fancy red dress and sparkly heels. I also brought and shared little bald super hero Valentines with my doctor, nurses, and those who were walking closely alongside of me. (Thank you to Papersource for creating buildable Valentine super heroes that can remain bald – this is lovely for the cancer community even though I’m quite sure it wasn’t planned.)
I was thinking about what I wanted to do this year, I decided on daily little love notes for the month of February to be posted in Instagram. I started posting these little loves that reflect what I already know about you based on how you’ve loved me through my journey. They also reflect another lesson I’m learning about myself.
This particular lesson came as I recently tried skiing for the 2nd time in my life. Saying I’m terrified of skiing is an understatement. I know it’s supposed to be fun, but my first experience years ago wasn’t, and I’m still not sure how I could ever be comfortable enough to enjoy it. But Marc and our boys love it, and I love both being with them and being outside so I’m not quite ready to put down the idea of trying. So, this time, I signed up for ski school for the adult ‘beginningist’ beginners that started with instructions such as, “these are your skis”. It was exactly my level of ability and confidence. We practiced going down the beginner area ‘bunny slope’ that was really an incline most similar to well, a flat surface with a slight slant only detectible if you were trying to run up it. There were no ski lifts involved. About my 5th or 6th time ‘down the hill’, I excitedly told my instructor I think I MIGHT be able to ski. She looked at me and said, “Laura, YOU ARE SKIING”. It was on nearly flat ground, but I skied. I actually never left that 50-yard stretch of mostly flat earth that trip, but I actually skied. And every time I took off down that little slant of a hill (equaling the illusive double black difficulty level in my mind), I repeated over and over, “I am skiing.” “I really am skiing.” It wasn’t too long before I started smiling, I became less scared, and I mostly had fun.
Hard things – whether new or things like cancer - can make us forget, but YOU ARE capable and beautiful and valued and seen. YOU ARE interesting and creative and lovely and blessed. Need a little reminder of what else YOU ARE? Join me over on Instagram and receive your little love note each day for the rest of the month. Even if you don’t feel it, YOU ARE already, no matter what.
Love First and Hope Always,
Lulu