I dreaded the Saturday mornings when my mom used to tell me to clean and declutter my bedroom. Or if I heard the vacuum making it’s way down the stairs and eventually found it’s way into my room – while I was still sleeping, mind you! This event always took place after a late night out with friends or with Tony, and all I wanted to do was snuggle in my bed and keep sleeping, throw in a movie and veg, or continue to hang with friends at the mall, on a lake, in a pool, whatever would get me out of cleaning. Saturday morning cleaning is a memory of growing up I will never forget.
However, as I’ve gotten older and now own my own home, I have noticed this routine has stuck. I drive Tony crazy on weekends because I always want to get things done. He’s constantly asking me, ‘what imaginary projects or cleaning tasks did you come up with now?’ Although, we have found our niche in cleaning. We crank Slightly Stoopid Pandora, take a section of the house, and rock out with Windex. It ALWAYS feel great when Ace hair has disappeared, it smells deliciously of lemon-scented cleaners, and we can relax the rest of the weekend.
Last spring, after my diagnosis, I have used the phrase shed the waste in multiple aspects of my life; thus the point of the Saturday Cleaning flashback. This phrase was definitely inspired by my mom. When I was having bad anxiety issues last fall, she said, “Kaylee, stop thinking you need to accomplish this or that before this made-up deadline. Focus on shedding the clutter in your mind, in random drawers in your house, and the rest will come.”
Her words helped more than she will ever know. Such a simple way of looking at things, but it was exactly what I needed to hear. Previous to finally letting these words set in, I wanted the next three years to go fast. I made outlines of house projects, school credits to take, and trips to plan. I ALWAYS had ‘the next thing’ do to. It was like a switch had gone off in me, and I wanted nothing more than to fast forward. I wanted to fast forward to a time when things were more certain; things were more decided. I felt like a drone at times; eating, sleeping, going to work, repeat. My emotions were all over the place. I would get angry over things that I didn’t really care about. I would cry at the drop of a hat. I wasn’t sleeping. My mind was always thinking of what I could get accomplished tomorrow. I was trying to stay as busy as possible. I figured if I didn’t have the time to think about what was going on in my body, then I would be happy. If I didn’t think about the next blood draw or next scan, I would be just fine.
Looking back, I definitely should have met with someone. I should have reached out for help, instead of thinking I could handle it by myself, or that I would get through it over time. I wasn’t really living. I can look back at the last year, and I can’t remember any special moments, any memories that stand out to remember forever. The s
ad part is, there were a lot of GREAT things that happened over the first year I was on chemo. We brought Ace home, my best friend got married, we vacationed with friends, etc… but I never lived in the moment. I never let myself be happy with the present. I developed this wall around my mind. Nothing was getting in; nothing was going to be enjoyed; nothing was going to matter.
Tony and I had a break through conversation around the time my grandma got really sick, this past May. We had an open, honest conversation about what was going on; the atmosphere of our home, his feelings towards me, and how I viewed things. It was a very hard thing to talk about, and there were things that were really hard to hear. Up until this conversation, I really did think I was fine. I didn’t think there was anything wrong with my behavior. I thought I was doing alright. It took words from my husband, honest words that cracked my wall, for me to understand there was a problem. Tony made me realize that what I was doing was not living. He pointed out how much I’m going to regret how I was spending this time. Tony made me realize that I was not fooling anybody, especially him. (The perks of being with someone for 11 years! He knows me better than I know myself sometimes!).
This conversation made me look at the past year differently. It made me realize that I wanted to remember special events, moments, feelings. I didn’t want to be fake.
There are still moments I have to stop and tell myself to breathe. I still have to tell myself to stop worrying about the next task. I take more music baths. I read more books. I dance with Ace in the living room. I laugh and enjoy the way it makes me feel. I have shed certain people that make me feel otherwise, people that drive me back into outlines, lists, and building my wall.
I cleaned out all our junk drawers, and man it felt good.