A Powerful Visualization

It was 1:30 in the morning. With eyes wide open, I had a dreadful sense of foreboding stuck in my chest, right in my heart.

I searched YouTube for binaural beats and found one called “Get Rid of All Bad Energy, Tibetan Healing Sounds, Reduce Stress and Anxiety, Meditation.” I clicked the link.

“Get Rid of All Bad Energy, Tibetan Healing Sounds, Reduce Stress and Anxiety, Meditation.”

While listening, eyes shut, I visualized a light streaming from the sky, a direct link to God. I breathed in and out, a meditation of love and kindness, healing and miracles. I traced my thigh with my fingertips, down to my left knee and held on, breathing healing into existence. Somehow my own touch soothed. I traced my left arm in the same way around to my left breast, the one with a cancerous tumor. I hadn’t intended to examine myself, but I discovered what had been a hardening of tissue post-radiation was now soft to the touch. I held on, inhaling.

In my mind’s eye, I breathed in the light, and on the exhale that same light wrapped me up like a cocoon of love, kindness, healing, and miracles. The energy surrounding my body glowed in transforming colors, reminiscent of the Aurora Borealis. From green to blue, purple to pink to white. I drew my own conclusions. Green for growth, blue for hope, purple for power, pink for feminine strength, white for the purest of love. And for this experience, I am grateful.

💚💙💜💖🤍

Brain Fog and a String of Pearls

For anyone out there currently struggling:

Me, too. Brain fog is a bitch. Mornings are better than afternoons.

Healthline defines brain fog in a kinder way, “a symptom that can be caused by stress, sleep changes, medications, and other factors.” This totally applies. “It can cause confusion, memory issues, and lack of focus.” Check. Check. And check.

Then due to symptoms and medicinal side effects, I swing between anger and sadness. I’m tired of tearing up at school. I’m terrified of unleashing on a student or co-worker or even worse a friend. Lucky for me, the screaming and computer screen punching only happen at home. Something has got to give.

***

After lunch on school days, I find myself staring at my attendance screen not knowing what button to push. Students swarm me to say things of dire importance that I may or may not remember—one hands me a late essay (now to delete the zero from my gradebook until I can grade the work), one asks what she missed when she was absent (which is all online), one needs help with his paper, schedules an appointment, and later no-shows. Twenty-five chat like the teenagers they are in the background. The bell is ringing. Five more walk in late. I try to write things down. I try to decipher my notes. I try to remember to take attendance. I try to teach the Tragedy of Macbeth. Meanwhile, since lunch, here are three e-mails from parents and five e-mails from students and seven e-mails from counselors requesting updated paperwork for students with accommodations. Where are my accommodations? Can’t I get some *%#@-ing accommodations? Then I stare at the stack of 190 research papers. I exaggerate. I’ve graded 33, and 30 essays are late, so it’s a stack of 127, plus the one just turned in 128. How will I find the energy to contact those parents, not to mention the energy to grade the rest? For now, I’m a warm body in the classroom who can still teach Macbeth and throw the rest of my balls in the air.

I’ve been told a person with cancer should stick to a routine. Routine these days means taking a shower and going to school with wet hair unless I feel like lifting the hair dryer above my head. Most mornings I’m sweating my make-up off before I leave the house or I’m nauseous or both. I can tell when my blood pressure is elevated. I’ve spoken to my doctor about all of this and said I need help making it to the ends of my days and to the end of the school year. My medical team has suggested a psychiatrist. They threw around the terms—depression and anxiety—and compiled a list of doctors. I haven’t made an appointment. I’m not opposed. Just tired. If someone would make the appointment, I would show up.

Meanwhile, I’m seeking healthy ways to cope and finding.

Back in February after finishing my radiation, I watched a documentary on Netflix called STUTZ. If you’re struggling with your head space, I say, “You must-see.” Oscar-nominated actor Jonah Hill spotlights his own psychiatrist Dr. Phil Stutz and his approach to self-care. Together they share tools that take a normally unpleasant experience and make an opportunity. Dr. Stutz gives his patients notecards with visuals that “turn big ideas into simple images.” During my second viewing, I took notes:

Dr. Stutz and Jonah Hill discuss the concept of Life Force and how a person can always work on that. It’s the part of yourself “capable of guiding you when you’re lost.”

“If you think of it as a pyramid, there’s three levels of the life force. The bottom level is your relationship with your physical body…The most classic thing is [people are] not exercising. Diet is another one and sleeping.”
Dr. Phil Stutz

“Your relationships are like handholds to let yourself get pulled back into life. The key of it is you have to take the initiative…You could invite somebody out to lunch that you don’t find interesting, it doesn’t matter, it will affect you anyway, in a positive way. That person represents the whole human race, symbolically.”
Dr. Phil Stutz

“The highest tier is your relationship with yourself…get yourself in a relationship with your unconscious because nobody knows what’s in their unconscious unless they activate it. And one trick about this is writing. It’s really a magical thing. You enhance the relationship with yourself by writing. The writing is like a mirror. It reflects what’s going on in your unconscious, and things will come out that you didn’t know you knew.”
Dr. Phil Stutz

Dr. Stutz says if you work on these three things, “Everything else will fall in place.” Quite frankly, my relationships—self, others, body—have suffered in the last six months or so. I don’t feel like going out after work or talking on the phone. I don’t have much brain power for texting or writing. I don’t care to eat or exercise. I know these things have strengthened my Life Force in the past. I know…

Regardless, I talk or text with my daughter almost every day, and she means everything to me. In my passing death fantasies, I focus on my reason for living. Don’t get me wrong. I don’t have a plan for ending my life (I’ve discussed this in detail with my medical team), but I’m struggling. So—last Friday after school on Minute One of Spring Break, I hopped in my packed car and drove to Oklahoma City. I broke out of my cocoon to spread my wings for a mother-daughter weekend with Lauren and a perfect storm of culinary experiences and shopping, binging TV and deep talks.

On Sunday, we dined on Thai with my two cousins. One had COVID in November, which caused her to wake up dizzy in December. She drove for the third time since her illness just to meet us and hasn’t worked in almost four months. My other cousin said, “Savage women…” our moms are sisters born of Catherine Savage, “have always had a way of sacrificing themselves for others. Be kind to yourself, Crystal. Don’t work if you don’t have to.”

Dr. Stutz says that when adversity comes, we face a judgmental part of ourselves called Part X. I’m happy to have a clinical explanation of this. Part X is an antisocial part of ourselves that wants to hold us back from changing or growing. Part X almost told me to stay home and not attempt a seven-hour, one-way road trip. I’m happy I didn’t listen to that inner voice.

“Part X is the voice of impossibility. Whatever it is you think you need to do, it’s gonna tell you that’s impossible. ‘Give up.’ It creates this primal fear in human beings.”
Dr. Phil Stutz

When my cousin said, “Don’t work,” I remembered Dr. Stutz’s 3 Aspects of Reality:

Pain
Uncertainty
And Constant Work

Clearly, there are more aspects of reality including good things, but these are probably the ones that cause his clients to make appointments. I thought he was talking about coming to an acceptance of pain, uncertainty, and constant work, but he says we have to learn how to LOVE the process of dealing with them.

“What will make you happy is the process. You have to learn how to love the process of dealing with those three things. That’s where the tools come in. Because the highest creative expression for a human being is to be able to create something new right in the face of adversity, and the worse the adversity, the greater the opportunity.”
Dr. Phil Stutz

So while I’m learning to love cancer, symptoms, side effects, uncertainty, and constant work along the way, allow me to share one more memorable visual tool. The String of Pearls. Dr. Stutz says this is “probably the most important thing, motivationally, you could teach yourself.”

Picture this: Line. Circle. Line. Circle. Line. Circle.

Each circle is an action. Each action has the same value. The String of Pearls is about taking action. No one can put a pearl on your strand except you. Last Friday, my pearl included a seven-hour drive to see Lauren and my Grand-Pup. On Saturday, my pearl was a shower, lunch with Lauren’s friend, and arts-district shopping. On Sunday, my pearl included cousin-time, Panang Curry, and the strength of my roots. On Monday, my pearl was making the trip home and brunching with a friend along the way. On Tuesday, I wrote for the first time in a while. On Wednesday, I posted. Creation in the face of adversity. Opportunities around the corner.

Today comments are closed. I must grade.

You are a Bada**

Last Thursday after my first period class, a kid I’ll call J stayed behind and handed me a new yellow paperback.

He hesitated and said, “I’m sorry that I missed your tutorial yesterday. I know you’re here to help us and that people take advantage of you….”

Oof! Gut punch. Kids say the darnedest things.

The day before I had hosted a lunchtime tutorial, pizza provided by the school, for students who haven’t taken the SAT (Scholastic Aptitude Test) and need to pass another government-mandated standardized test (TSI—the Texas Success Initiative) created by College Board (the entity that makes beaucoups of cash by selling both tests plus Advanced Placement). These kids have taken the test before and failed and must retest. The test deems the students college-ready, and if our school has a certain percentage of students who don’t pass this test, then we look bad. We lose some prestige. Therefore, the intervening tutorial. We discussed grammar and multiple-choice test-taking tips. Some of the kids were one question away from passing on their last attempt. Meanwhile, J, who had a lead in our all-school musical Mamma Mia last semester was giving me a book about how to stop doubting my greatness and start living an awesome life. Somehow, I know he is college ready, and I don’t need test results to tell me. If he doesn’t go to college, who the F cares? J is already living an awesome life and sharing his secret with me.

“…but I think you’re amazing,” he said, “and I hope you’ll read this book.”

I may or may not have had tears in my eyes when I gave him a speechless fist bump. I was touched by the gift. “I will absolutely read this book,” I said. Students filed through the door for my next class, J left, and I composed myself.

Yesterday, I left work at lunch. This morning, I stayed home. The struggle is real. I was supposed to tutor during my lunch again today—and I just can’t. The test is March 22. There is time to postpone. I picked up the book from J and read. Chapter 4 resonated.

“In the self-help/spiritual community, ‘Ego’ is used to refer to the shadow self, or the false self, or the self that’s acting like a weenie. It’s the part of us that’s driving the bus when we do things like sabotage our happiness by cheating on our husbands or wives because deep down we don’t feel worthy of being loved, or that refuses to follow our hearts and pursue an acting career because we are terrified to be seen for who we really are, or that goes on and on and on and on about how great we are and shows off our muscles because we’re insecure and need lots of outside validation that we’re good enough.”
Jen Sincero

Ego—the self that’s acting like a weenie. That’s funny. How many of us are driven by our insecurities and the need for validation that we’re good enough…smart enough…sexy enough…rich enough…skinny enough…badass enough…just simply enough? Yeah, that’s what I thought.

“The leading cause of sucking (staying broke, dating morons, uncontrollably crying in public because we hate our lives) is that we haven’t yet woken up to how truly powerful we are or to how massively abundant our Universe is.”
Jen Sincero

Speaking of the Universe, I’ve heard the part about its massive abundance before. Seeing these words again seems like a message tailored for me.

“The [ego] operates according to your limiting false beliefs. This is the garbage that was stuffed into your subconscious as a kid that doesn’t ring true for you, as well as the decisions you’ve made about yourself that are less-than flattering or empowering. It gets validation from outside sources (I’m doing this to win your love, your opinion of me is more important than my opinion of me), it’s reactive (My circumstances control my life, I am a victim), fear-based, and extremely committed to keeping you safely confined within the reality you’ve created based on those false limiting beliefs (otherwise known as your comfort zone). The [ego] lives in the past and in the future and believes you are separate from everything around you.

Your true self or your higher self or your superhero self (your non-BS self)…is the part of you that operates according to your connection to Source Energy. It gets validation from within (I love and trust myself, this feels right to me, I have a purpose, I am loved), it’s proactive (I’m in control of my life, I think I’ll head on out and kick me some ass), love based, and is committed to creating a reality based on your limitless potential…Your true self lives in the present (not stuck in your head), totally believes in miracles and is one with the Universe.
Jen Sincero

The false self (based on your subconscious and limiting false beliefs) vs. the true self (connected to a higher power AKA Source Energy). The true self validates from within, takes action, seeks limitless potential, stays out of head, believes in miracles, and loves their fellow human. Suddenly, I find myself thinking of 1 Corinthians 4-8. What a lovely truth!

Lessons from the Sweats

On Sunday night, I went to bed with the night sweats. On Monday morning, I woke up with them. Since the beginning of the new semester, I had missed nine days of school. To clarify, this teacher doesn’t like missing school, especially nine days in one month, but cancer. I had finished my radiation Friday and planned to return to school Monday. I don’t like breaking plans. I missed the kids. I didn’t have sub notes. I couldn’t stay home another day. I was going to school. Sweaty or not, I pulled my hair into a ponytail. Only later would I notice my horrifically crooked eyeliner. I looked like shit. I would wear a mask.

Back in 2021, I had cap and gown portraits made at Houston Baptist. The photo package included a mask with the lower half of my face. I bought it, and it’s so creepy. My smile is oversized. See? An understated message. I would fake it till I make it.

My students are working on research papers, a good plan considering my absences. Monday would be a workday. I would be available for consultation at my desk where I would sit and play catch up.

Before classes started, I searched YouTube for Snoop Dogg and clicked Dr. Dre’s “The Next Episode.” How appropriate. With the tunes on my overhead speaker, I wrote the kids a note and displayed it on my overhead projector. “I probably should have stayed home,” I said, “but I needed a sense of normalcy.” What is normal? I thought yet again. I signed the note, “with love.”

Between the gangsta hip-hop on my speaker and the ridiculous mask on my face, my students may have been more concerned than ever before. So much for faking it. My note said I needed a silent study hall. Never mind my music. Of course, they wanted to know how I was doing.

I’m not good with “How are you?” Especially with people who really care. The kids really cared. When I’m not okay, a super-sensitive version of myself sometimes appears. When my mouth opens, sometimes so do my tear ducts. I think I cried in every class that day, just trying to say I’m okay.

I CLEARLY was not okay. I possibly hit an all-time low. F-bombs exploded overhead, like a battle cry as I worked from my desk and tried to concentrate on grades and missing assignments, failures and emails, lesson plans and life. The kids seemed to get me, and through the sweats I made progress toward some goals. In the end everything was okay.

Back at home, renewed energy conquered my sweats. I decluttered a corner of my world, put away misplaced things, and patted myself on the back. Action lead to action. And Tuesday was better, and with each day came strength. Cancer has definitely been teaching me a thing or two. Here’s a favorite:

I can do hard things.

The One about Radiation

Before my first round of radiation therapy, I lay on a treatment table for a computerized tomography (CT) scan and simulation to help my doctor and team plan my treatment. They made me a custom foam mold, shaping it to my torso, with my left arm extended above head. With a purple Sharpie, someone drew a cross on the left side of my left breast, another cross on my chest, one on the outside of my right arm, another on the inside of my left arm. Then came vertical lines, one on the upper abdomen right of center and two more flanking my torso toward the back of my ribcage. Then came the hypoallergenic tape over the markings, which would help preserve the lines to quickly align my body during the upcoming treatments. I left the simulation with a gift of the purple Sharpie, for touch ups if needed. Radiation would begin eight days later.

Radiation therapy targets tissues where cancer cells remain with high-energy rays. While normal cells repair themselves between treatments, the cancer cells die. During appointments, I check in, go straight to the dressing room, and change into two gowns, the first opens to the back, the other to the front. My other clothes go into a disposable plastic bag. In the waiting room, I give a weak masked smile to three other ladies and listen. They’ve all had chemo and lost their hair, one had lost her job and health insurance, and I don’t quite fit in this conversation. Part of me feels guilty for an easier cancer. Then, like clockwork, Caroline appears and says, “Mrs. Byers?”

I stand and follow.

“What do you want to listen to today?”

“90’s rap,” I say.

She shoots me a look of surprise. “Did you say rap or rock?” I had requested indie music on Days One and Two. This was Day Three.

Still masked up, I say, “Rap.” Our eyes meet and twinkle.

She asks me my name and birthday and double checks my wristband. She waves a wand around my body checking for prohibited devices and lets me snap a few photos before we head to the treatment room.

I remove my outer gown, spectacles, and mask, lay them on a side table, and scoot onto the treatment table, my body cradled in foam. Caroline hands me earplugs—the machine acoustics are noisy—then headphones. She aligns lasers to my markings. Once positioned, I slide into the tubular machine, try to relax, breathe easy, not move a muscle. I can’t feel the treatment. It’s like having an x-ray, except the dose of radiation is higher and given over a longer period. From the other side of the wall, the team monitors via closed-circuit television, and I can call them from the tube and talk if needed. When I start to feel claustrophobic, I talk to God instead. When the sounds of the machine ramp up to an electro-magnetically induced triplicate of Dee Dee Doos layered with a Wee Woo, I can no longer hear Snoop Dogg through my headphones, but I know my thirty minutes or so in the tube is drawing to an end.

My radiation oncologist told me I may feel more tired than usual but that I won’t be radioactive. I laughed at the joke, but when she said it more than once, I realized she wasn’t joking. I suppose some people have that fear. Becoming radioactive never crossed my mind.

My fatigue has been fierce, and I puked my guts out one night. Just one. Nausea isn’t listed as a side effect, and I never get sick, well, except for the cancer, but back at home, I’m physically ill. I’m not hungry. I have no desire to move. I miss my mother. But nothing lasts forever.

Yesterday, I finished the fifth of five treatments. Five of five while others get a month, plus surgery, plus chemotherapy. Let’s say a prayer for them. I’ll be okay.

What Is Normal?

It was the day after Halloween when my classes read David Sedaris’s narrative essay “Us and Them.”

You know how when you’re young, everyone else seems weird because they do things differently than your family? Before the students started the story, I proposed the question written by the textbook company:

What is normal?

My seniors talked within table groups and then shared out with the whole class. Several people said something along the lines of “Being normal means not being weird.” Often in school settings, when one student has an opinion, others will jump on the bandwagon rather than form their own.

I can’t stop thinking about the girl who said:

“There’s no such thing as normal because everyone is different. So being different is normal.

Sedaris’s third-grade self spies on his neighbors, the Tomkeys, and he passes juvenile judgement on their lives. The Tomkeys don’t watch TV. They talk during meals. They even slap their knees laughing at each other. They trick-or-treat in homemade costumes. On the wrong day. The day after Halloween.

At the insistence of his mother and with dramatized reluctance, Sedaris must give away his own, hard-earned Halloween candy. Along the way, he pokes fun at himself for being human, judgmental and greedy.

And I’m still thinking about what it means to be normal.

For Everything There Is a Season

Tuesday was the day. The much-anticipated day.

For the past few months, I’ve followed doctors’ orders. On a medical trial for the purpose of eliminating the need for breast cancer surgery, I’ve taken the endocrine therapy intended to shrink my small malignant tumor, and I’ve waited. On Tuesday, a slew of tests and appointments awaited: an ultrasound, a CT scan, an MRI, blood withdrawals, a COVID examination, and a visit with the radiation oncologist.

Sure enough, the real-time sonographic imaging measured a 20% decrease in the volume of my irregular hypoechoic mass with indistinct margins. The medicine that I’ve hated for blocking my hormones has finally done me a favor. It shrunk my tiny tumor, which means no surgery for me. Why can’t I say that with a little extra enthusiasm? This is such great news. Oh wait, my hormones. Going, going, gone. I wonder if I will ever feel like myself again.

For now, I stay the course with the medicine. I tell myself no feeling is final…words have power…God has my back. On Wednesday, I start my radiation, five rounds, every other day. The end. Over and done. And then I wait. Again. I let it all happen and just keep going.

3 For everything there is a season, and a time for every purpose under heaven: ²a time to be born, and a time to die; a time to plant, and a time to pluck up that which is planted; ³a time to kill, and a time to heal; a time to break down, and a time to build up; ⁴a time to weep, and a time to laugh; a time to mourn, and a time to dance; ⁵a time to cast away stones, and a time to gather stones together; a time to embrace, and a time to refrain from embracing; ⁶a time to seek, and a time to lose; a time to keep, and a time to cast away; ⁷a time to rend, and a time to sew; a time to keep silence, and a time to speak; ⁸a time to love, and a time to hate; a time for war, and a time for peace.
Ecclesiastes 3: 1-8

30 Seconds Inside My Brain

Just today, a part of my brain said, “It’s January 12. You are behind schedule.” Emphasis on you and behind.

I said, “Who’s schedule?”

***

When the new year commenced, I didn’t make a single promise. Not one. That’s unusual for me.

For the last number of years, I’ve had a reading goal on Goodreads. A Word of the Year. Various other resolutions and goals. Despite the fact I didn’t set any blogging goals last year, at some point, I settled into a once-a-week post.

This year. I’m too tired for resolutions, but we are twelve days in. I reserve the right to change my mind. Maybe February will be my month. I am open to the possibility of miracles. I’ve resolved to be kind to myself.

When my inner dialogue started harassing me about writing a little something for the blog, I took offense. I don’t like to be told what to do. Even by myself.

***

I wrote the post anyway. Then remembered why.

❤️

My All-Time Top 10 Blogs

Bloggers will tell you they don’t care about the numbers. Perhaps this is true for some. I, for one, like to see how my posts and years fare against each other. I’m always rooting for the underdog.

What I’ve Learned Through 5 Years of Writing Blogs

My most popular posts are more vulnerable.
The more I post, the more views appear.
As for categories and tags, use them. I can’t explain it, but more people will find your blog.
WordPress Bloggers are the best! Thanks for taking time to read today!
The blue links below are clickable.

10. Butterfly, Butterfly (2020)

A love note from my second-grade self to my mother.

Blogging Categories: Alzheimer’s, Family, Love
Tags: None

9. My Beautiful Miracle Baby (2022)

Just one of the reasons I believe in miracles.

Categories: faith, family, miracles
Tags: None

8. Tale of the Unwanted Letter Jacket (2020)

The time my letter jacket met its demise.

Categories: introverts, writing
Tags: None

7. Rejection Is God’s Protection (2018)

The time I crashed and burned at an interview and didn’t get the job I thought I wanted.

Categories: Faith, God, gratitude, peace, hope, strength
Tags: #teaching, #learningneverstops, feeling good, Life Lessons, my grandmother’s pearls, Nina Simone, rejection

6. I Am Fearless and Therefore Powerful (2022)

A 2022 newcomer to the all-time top ten list and a little lesson from Anne of Green Gables.

Categories: Books, Gratitude, Inspiration, Literature
Tags: Anne of Green Gables, Anne with an “E,” coming of age

5. I’ll Be Okay (2022) and When God Speaks (2022)

Two 2022 posts took a flying leap into the top ten and tied for #5. “I’ll Be Okay” details my recent breast cancer diagnosis.

Categories: Faith, Gratitude, Health, Hope, Peace
Tags: Breast Cancer

“When God Speaks” contains a confession.

Categories: Believe, Breast Cancer, God, Peace, Prayer, Progress, Walking
Tags: Mom, Philippians 4:6-7

4. Five Years Before I Said, I Do (2017)

The prequel to my marriage.

Categories: Faith, God, Gratitude, Hope, Inspiration, Love, Peace
Tags: None

3. That Time When I Met Harvey (2017)

The time when a hurricane flooded our home and the piece that compelled me to start a blog.

Categories: Faith, Gratitude, Hope, Inspiration, Peace
Tags: None

2. Writing Better (2022)

The top post of last year was just 16 views short of usurping the all-time #1 spot, and I don’t know why. A short piece about the steps to writing better: reading, writing, and revising.

Categories: Blogging, memoir, writing
Tags: None

1. Making Macbeth Memorable (2019)

The first time I taught Macbeth I posted this on a Facebook English teacher page where it continues to bring viewers.

Categories: High School English, Learning, Life Lessons, school
Tags: Shakespeare

Happy Blogging in 2023 everybody!

Cheers to Year 53

I count my years by December 30ths. Cheers to Year 53, and Happy Birthday to Me!

In the last days of December, I like to reflect and adjust. Or try to adjust. Why not enter the New Year with my mind right? Except in recent days, the more I turned the events of ’22 over in my brain, the more I heard nothing but crickets. I drew no real conclusions. Wasn’t it Socrates who said something like “The more I learn, the less I know”?

My thoughts from a year ago:

“In fact, there’s no better time than a new year or a birthday to let bygones be bygones and let it go. A gift to myself. Peace. I Believe our struggles strengthen us. I suppose that’s my 2021 takeaway. Strength. Perseverance. I made it. You did, too. As for 2022, I choose Hope. Maybe we’ll all be surprised.”
Crystal Byers

Perspective from my barely-younger former self, the girl who feels all the feels, but reaches for the bold.

As for 2023, I’ll stuff my pockets with the necessary ammo and wish you all the same:

Faith + Gratitude = Peace + Hope