Conclusion of a Hard Week
This week was one of the more difficult ones I’ve had in a long time. Having to start over—again—couldn’t have come at a worse time.
I was with my friend in court. The legal players around us felt like they were lifted straight from a John Grisham novel. The judge and lawyers barely glanced at her records, didn’t ask questions, didn’t even pretend to care. When the judge finally spoke, it was to scold her—for daring to defend herself because no one else would. It was all so condescending, so dismissive.
And I realized, I’ll be facing this same judge next Thursday. That glimpse into the future left me rattled.
Just add it to the growing list of small-town injustices I’ve witnessed this year.
On the Road and in My Head
My other friend drove me to Springfield because it’s getting harder to make those long drives without falling asleep. At the spine doctor’s office, I had X-rays done, and everything looks great. He showed me how they removed an entire vertebra. He also pointed out where the cage and titanium plate are attached. It was both creepy and cool. No follow-up needed for six months.
I’ll see my Radiation Oncologist in a few weeks. She’ll check the radiation site and make sure all the cancer cells in my neck are gone. Thankfully, the treatment site just looks like a faint sunburn now. I no longer sound like Cher or Stevie Nicks. I suppose that is a win.
The Therapy We Didn’t Schedule
During the drive, my friend served as my captive therapist. She accepts this job willingly. She handles it with laughter, wisdom, and her perfect Boston-infused Missouri accent. I dumped my usual laundry list of grievances: nothing’s working out, everything feels like it’s falling apart, cue the whining.
She listened and smiled. She reminded me that the things that feel huge right now are just passing moments. This is true when held next to the “whole cancer thing.” She said, “This isn’t wasted—it’s prep. For whatever comes next.”
To which I said, internally and probably out loud:
“I don’t want whatever comes next. There better not be anything else coming.”
Geez O’ Pete.
Walking in My Strength (Even If I Don’t See It)
She told me, again, I should see how far I’ve come in just the past year. If I could recognize the power in me, I would really walk in it. I wouldn’t feel so thrown off by how things are playing out.
“If you could speak your truth,” she said, “with the knowledge you already have… you’d be a force to be reckoned with.”
I’m sure I made some sort of scoffing noise. That’s my thing. I remind her of all the things I’m not. But she keeps telling me I am strong.
Honestly? Behind a keyboard, I do feel that way—brave, maybe even wise. Or possibly just full of crap. Either way, I write like I mean it.
The Unexpected Benediction
Later we called our other friend and put her on speaker. She just moved into a new place, so we were stopping by with a housewarming gift. Before we hung up, she asked us to do something unexpected:
“Pray for the exes,” she said.
“Ask God to intervene. Forgive them. Ask Him to touch their hearts.”
We laughed. Loudly. But we also listened. Because we respect her. Because she’s been down the road we’re on. Because she knows things we’re still trying to learn.
Loose Ends & Lasting Lessons
That’s how this week ended. I faced courtrooms and cages. I dealt with frustration and fatigue. I heard voices I trust. They reminded me of who I am—even when I forget. Reminding me that forgiveness is more for my freedom than theirs. That healing is more layered than a scan or a scar.
That sometimes, the thing I need most isn’t an answer or a plan—
But a ride to Springfield.
A quiet reminder.
And a prayer for someone I thought I’d never pray for.
Keep the Main Thing… the Main Thing
This has been repeated to us at least a dozen times over the past couple of weeks:
“Keep the main thing… the main thing.”
That’s her phrase. What she means is: *don’t let anyone—*and I mean anyone—have the power to hijack your thoughts or emotions. Don’t give your anger, frustration, or energy to people who don’t deserve it. When we replay the same events, the same what ifs, again and again, the only ones we’re hurting are ourselves.
So, what is the main thing?
Protecting our health. Physically. Mentally. Spiritually.
Keeping ourselves—and our children—safe.
That’s the main thing.
Everything else is just background noise.
She gave us books to read, too. Probably expects a book report by next week. God bless her for loving us the way she does.
Dex Tuesdays & Mood Swings
Now, full disclosure—it’s Tuesday. Which means I’m riding the Dex train. So this might veer a little.
I know I’ve been less positive lately, more weighed down in tone. But I think—maybe?—I’m turning a corner again. Possibly toward a cliff, but let’s just sit back and see where this goes. Either way, something’s shifting.
When I zoom out and really look at the big picture, I still have so much to appreciate. And laugh about. It’s just that life isn’t exactly making a ton of sense right now. And I’ve been avoiding social things—not because I don’t want to go, but because I feel guilty. Like my mood might mess up the room. Or worse, that I’m becoming someone I don’t recognize.
Body Image, Motherhood, and Grace
And then there’s the body stuff. The weight, the puffiness, the side effects—it makes me feel so uncomfortable in my own skin. I know I’m the only one obsessively cataloging every single flaw, but knowing that doesn’t make the thoughts stop.
Even around my girls… I notice it. I want them to see strength. Victory. Grace. Lately, I’ve been feeling more like a cautionary tale than a role model. And I hate that.
These photos are from the day the nurses shaved my head, Colleen brought Kim in to throw me a party. I was very emotional about my hair being gone… but they made me feel like a princess.
And Yet… I Feel Better
Okay, so yes. This may read like a full-on Whine-Fest.
Should’ve passed out cheese and crackers first.
But honestly?
I feel better having said it.
This isn’t a masterpiece. It doesn’t need to be.
Maybe only three people will read this all the way through—and that’s perfectly fine. t’s not about the audience.
It’s about telling the truth—at least to myself.
And right now, that feels like enough.
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