My restrictions have taken away some of my serious coping mechanisms for my anger.
Offending restriction #1: No construction.
I take this as no destruction also. Construction, or just plan old destruction, is a favorite outlet for my anger.
It’s in the blood and has been for generations.
Pepere (my grandfather) would take out a bulldozer and make trails for hours. He did this until he was placed on hospice for lung cancer, but for years prior to that he suffered from narcolepsy. He would fall asleep at the wheel of his bulldozer on the top of my father’s property, but nobody would tell him he had to stop. He started his excavating business. He built it up, and if he wanted to go out asleep over a cliff in his bulldozer, then none of his offspring were going to tell him he couldn’t.
Not that we could have anyway.
My father takes out the excavator, tractor, or chain saw depending on the situation.
I have done, and would like to continue to do, the same.
I like working with big, heavy equipment.
I think most grown woman do, no matter what they tell you.
I know. I know. I’m a dirty girl, and I mean dirty in the most literal way. I like to play in dirt and mud.
That’s all I was saying. If you thought it was something else, clean up your dirty mind.
There is just no feeling like tearing something down and building it up better.
But since the restrictions, I’ve been relegated to using my jeep as a toy all winter.
I turn off the four wheel drive, speed down my road, slam on my brakes, and fly around the corners.
I did that until I ended up in a snowbank.
Ok, I’ll be honest, that is not what dissuaded me.
I did that until I thought I loosened my wheel, or worse, bent the frame from bouncing off the snowbanks.
I thought my fun was free and harmless, but THAT would have been an expensive.
My car’s problems, the severe shaking when accelerated above 30mph, were due to dirt. Please thank the good men at Lambert’s Auto in Claremont for checking it out and cleaning it up.
This is a family business. They sell jeeps and dodge vehicles. Go buy there. I trust their people. I trust their service (Hi Uncle Lou), and they take good care of me.
So now, I’m looking for an alternate coping mechanism, maybe one that is not so dirty (but I doubt that), but certainly one that is not possibly harmful.
Baldies' Blog began originally in the UK by a 26 year old journalist with a blood cancer on a mission to inform the world about bone marrow donation.
He has since died, and I took on the cause of making cancer care more transparent for everybody.
Cancer is a disease that will touch everybody through diagnosis or affiliation: 1 in 2 men will be diagnosed and 1 in 3 woman will hear those words, "You Have Cancer."
I invite you to read how I feel along my journey and
how I am continuing to live a full life alongside my Hodgkin's lymphoma, with me controlling my cancer, not my cancer controlling me.
I hope that "Baldies' Blog" will prepare you to handle whatever life sends you, but especially if it's the message, "You Have Cancer."