Christmas 2023 marks the first year I haven’t sent a newsletter in two decades. Well, intentionally didn’t send one. A couple of years ago, I ordered photo greeting cards with a written update on them, but my order got lost, so no cards went out that year.
But since 1999 or 2000 (I forget when exactly), I’ve felt compelled to send some sort of newsletter at Christmas to friends and family. Sometimes it’s just a newsletter. Sometimes it’s tucked in a Christmas card. And like I mentioned, some years it’s updates written as captions on a photo greeting card.
This year, my energy wasn’t up for any of that. Not the gathering photos or composing of a letter. It all felt just too daunting. The only thing I had energy for (or maybe enthusiasm is a better word) was for some cute holiday cards I found. I penned short personal messages in those and that was that. (And by short, I do mean short. For the most part, it was, “Happy Holidays and Happy New Year.”)
Mentally, 2023’s been rough for me. It all started in 2022, really, with the realization that my reality would soon be changing. If not in 2023, then soon. March 2023 had a target on it, but it ended up being for a different reason than I anticipated. (I’m purposely being vague because I can’t disclose certain specifics.)
Anyway, while on vacation in May this year, I confronted a hard truth: my heart was no longer in Haunt Jaunts anymore. At least not what it had become with covering entertainment news, doing interviews, and such. It no longer brought me the happiness it once did. Especially not the interviews, which instead of getting easier over time, increasingly caused angst, which led to awkward interviews à la the one I did with The Blackening cast, writers, and director.
“That’s not what you’re meant to be doing with your time,” my soul whispered, quietly at first but then more and more persistently.
All because of time. It’s on my mind more than ever.
Do lyrics from a certain song ever haunt you? As 2023 draws to a close, snippets from “Once in a Lifetime” by the Talking Heads have purchased real estate in my brain.
And you may find yourself in a beautiful house, with a beautiful wife
And you may ask yourself, “Well, how did I get here?”
Of course, I substitute “handsome husband” for the “beautiful wife” part. And when I’m not cluttering up the house with all kinds of Halloween accouterments, my inner child marvels at the cool house we call home.
But it’s the “how did I get here?” part that really strikes a chord.
How did I end up married to my high school sweetheart? (Not complaining. Wouldn’t trade the last 37 years for anything.) But how did a couple of kids from Denver end up in Nashville and taking adventures all over the world?
Well, that part also makes sense. It’s all thanks to Wayne, my rambling man with a gypsy soul. So is the fact that I’m still here.
As 2023 draws to an end, it brings with it a milestone. I’m on the verge of 15 years in the clear.
My original oncologist always liked to use my diagnosis date (12/31/2008) as my cancer-versary. I prefer to go with when I finished all treatments. (June 2009.)
Whether I’m on the verge of a milestone anniversary or not, whenever I think back to the cancer days, I’m always in awe I survived it. Seriously. If you knew how severe my needle phobia once was, you’d be amazed I didn’t just let myself die, too.
Which brings me to this line in the chorus:
Once in a lifetime, water flowing underground
More specifically, the part that also serves as the song’s title, “once in a lifetime.”
That makes me think of a quote attributed to the sassy and incomparable Mae West, “You only live once, but if you do it right, once is enough.”
That’s the trouble. I don’t feel like I’m living right. I’ve slipped into old habits I had pre-cancer, ones surviving cancer forced me to face and change, such as being afraid of trying new things, denying myself new experiences and adventures, and giving my insecurities a loudspeaker in my brain.
But part of the fear is routed in a physical problem I have with unpredictable tummy troubles. I never know when they’re going to flare up. Worse, no one seems to know what causes them. Stress, partly. Certain foods I can’t tolerate. But I don’t have allergies per se, Crohn’s disease, celiac disease, or lactose intolerance. The best they can say is I have some form of IBS, but no solutions. Which doesn’t help. I have to plan my time around every meal or not eat. Wayne is not a patient man, but thankfully, when it comes to this, he is and works on my schedule because I think it freaks him out to see me freak out when dealing with what I call “the eruptions.”
And it’s not like I haven’t always had this issue to some extent, but it’s gotten worse as I’ve gotten older and I don’t know how much longer I can live like this. Mentally, it’s taxing, but I have a pretty limited diet, and if I start not being able to tolerate those foods, then what?
I’m well aware that none of us know how much time we have left, yet I’m also keenly aware I’m past a certain threshold now. 15 years ago, I was still basically youthful. 15 years later, my mortality is ever present.
It doesn’t help that I constantly admonish myself, “Quit feeling so blue and do something. Change things. Cut out the noise. If you were told you had cancer again and a 50-50 chance of survival again, what would you prioritize doing?”
In 2008, that question was easy to answer. Now…not so much.
And, yet, at the same time, it’s still the same answer as it was then.
I’d write.
It’s always been writing. It soothes my soul, quiets the clutter in my heart, and tames the thoughts running willy-nilly in my brain.
So why not get on with it, even if the writing—or, rather, publishing—landscape has changed from my youth when I first dreamed of becoming a writer?
I don’t know. It’s not like I lack ideas. In fact, I have the exact opposite problem. Too many ideas.
And maybe that’s the problem. I’m stymied by analysis paralysis when I just need to get on with it.
And that’s really the trouble. Another year is about to pass where I haven’t “gotten on with it” like I’d intended to the year before, or the year before that, etc.
Will 2024 be any different?
2024 is going to be different for sure. Many things are about to change in my personal life to make that so. Again, I can’t elaborate on specifics, but if I really want to pull myself out of this funk I’ve found myself in for the better part of 2023, the biggest change I need to make is one only I can.
Or as a quote from my friend Jade’s newsletter, The Written Word, best summed it up:
“Probably the most important thing I’ve learned is that if I don’t make the time to do the writing, the writing won’t get done.”
~Judy Reeves
That’s the truth, Ruth.
Are you ever disappointed with yourself for not just getting on with doing something that you mean to? Or are you pretty good about just bucking up and doing things?
Oh, yes. Or, in other words, hello midlife crisis!
LOL! Well said!