A New Year's Resolution Revolution

As the holiday season sets forth upon us and the pandemic rages on and worsens, I can’t help but laugh at the prospect of the New Year’s resolution. In a time when so much that gives us joy has been stripped away, it seems unusually cruel to even fathom a basic New Year’s resolution. Drinking less? Swearing less? Eating better? Exercising more?

Having been in survival mode since March, some days my unhealthy habits are the only thing getting me through. No, I haven’t become a raging alcoholic (yet), but do I have a box of wine at the ready most of the time? Yes, yes I do. Do I tend to swear a bit too often, even in front of the kids? Fuck yeah, I certainly do. As for eating, do I still attempt to cook fairly healthy meals? Yes, most of the time, but I also make plenty of tater tot hotdish, cheeseburgers and chocolate chip cookies. I fondly recall when exercise was a consistent part of my life, back when I could go to the Y. I truly miss it and never quite realized how much of a luxury it was, especially with the provided childcare. Am I freaking out about gaining weight . . . maybe just a little, but I blame the wine and the cookies. God damn it, maybe I just need to swear more.

So what the fuck can we do to make 2021 better? Considering how bad 2020 has been, maybe it’s not much of a challenge, as the bar is pretty damn low. I declare a 2021 New Year’s resolution should not be about personal growth. We do not need to give something up, start a new hobby or discipline our bodies. I mean, I won’t stop you if you decide to go this route. Good for you. But I do seem to recall that most self-improvement type resolutions fail by February. But hey, no shame in trying. Godspeed.

I have grown to hate the words “unprecedented times” as it’s hard to go a day without hearing them together. Yet as much as I hate them, we really are living in unprecedented times (my apologies to anyone alive during the 1918 flu pandemic). So if you find yourself considering a New Year’s resolution this year, in these unprecedented times, I’d like to suggest you look at the bigger picture and instead of focusing on personal growth and self-improvement, try to spread a little joy to your community. Whether that community consists of your neighbors, friends, family or strangers, 2016 would be a great year to pay it forward by going out there and putting some positivity into the world. It doesn’t need to be anything too complicated or grandiose. Shovel a neighbor’s walk this winter. Send some handwritten notes to loved ones letting them know that you miss them and you’re thinking of them. Randomly drop off a bottle of wine at your bestie’s house if you know she’s been having a bad week. It’s those little things that keep us going and inspire us to help others. We could certainly use a chain reaction of kindness in this world right now. Be the spark that lights the fire. Not only will it bring a little joy to others, it will also bring a little joy to yourself.

I enjoy baking a lot and between being home pretty much all the time and having a wicked sweet tooth, I have found myself inundated with sweet treats. Between the lack of exercise, stress eating and a strong desire for comfort foods, I need to get these goodies out of my house or else they will be eaten up with abandon. So what does one do when you love to bake but do not want to be tempted to eat all the things? Happy to say this confectionery conundrum has been solved with the birth of the QuaranTreat Fairy. After making a batch of very calorie rich pumpkin cream cheese muffins, I thought I’d surprise some friends by anonymously dropping off muffins at their homes. At the time I used the name Covid Bakery Fairy, but quickly realized I needed a more appealing name that did not include the word Covid. Luckly, my friend Cori suggested the QuaranTreat Fairy, which was swiftly adopted. 

So many calories in these cream cheese muffins!

My resolution heading into 2021 is to keep the QuaranTreat Fairy alive by spreading some joy and calories throughout my neighborhood. My youngest son William is five-years-old and likes to help me bake. We also get a bit bored in the house, so taking a drive to deliver treats breaks up the day nicely and he likes to hang treat bags on door knobs. I like having a reason to experiment with new recipes and love that even when you screw something up, with enough butter and sugar, it usually still tastes pretty good. I feel good brightening someone’s day with a little surprise, William is entertained and my sweet tooth gets satisfied without overindulgence. I hope this QuaranTreat Fairy gig will help get us through this winter and I look forward to spreading a little joy each week, one sweet treat at a time. 

First attempt at macarons

 
Writers note: It sure feels good to write about something that doesn’t involve the election or the T word.

November 3rd — Good vs. Evil

 

My ten-year-old son, like many kids his age, often sees things in stark black and white terms. Good vs. evil, Iron man vs. Thanos. I often find myself telling him most things in life do not exist in such stark terms. Instead, everything is a lot more ambiguous and nuanced. I’ve always adhered to the idea there is no such thing as good and evil in real life, just gray areas in between. We all have it in ourselves to be raging assholes, though thankfully, we reign that shit in most of the time. I used to joke that I try to keep expectations low for my children and I’d be happy with how they turned out as long as they weren’t serial killers or Republicans. These days, I’m afraid this joke falls flat, as I truly believe it’d be an absolute nightmare for one of my boys to grow up to be a Republican. It would break this mama’s heart. Under the leadership of Donald Trump, the Republican party has managed to morph into the party of evil. Sure, if my kids grew up to be serial killers it wouldn’t be ideal, but I might learn to live with such an outcome. However, considering the current state of the GOP, I doubt I could ever come to terms with either of my sons becoming a Republican.

We are now less than two weeks away from election day, 2020. I can’t imagine being undecided between the two candidates for president, as they couldn’t be more diametrically opposed in what they stand for and in the content of their character. I truly feel like this election is pitting good vs. evil and its outcome will have a direct impact on all our lives. It is the epitome of the stark black and white situations I once thought so rare. It is a fight for the soul of our nation, as this race has become more about fighting for basic human decency than simple politics.

At this moment in history, doing good by society means voting Trump out of office. When it comes to this election, it’s simple — good vs. evil. Which side of history do you want to be on? The side that leads to the collapse of democracy and the rise of the Authoritarian States of America? Or the side that embraces facts, logic, expertise, science, inclusion, equality, human rights, dignity . . . oh the list goes on and on. Just reading those beautiful and amazing words makes me realize how lacking they have been these past four years under Trump, and how badly they’re needed now as our country faces the unprecedented shitstorm of a global pandemic, an economy in shambles and massive social unrest. We need a government that actually cares about and looks out for its citizens. A government that actually gives a shit that more than 200,000 of its citizens are dead. I can’t recall ever hearing the president saying anything resembling condolences towards the families who have lost someone to Covid. There’s been no national day of mourning. He demonstrates over and over again that he only cares about himself and only talks about himself. Most of the time it’s in one of two forms — steeped in hyperbole regarding how great he is and all the tremendously great things he has accomplished — or full of bullshit regarding how he’s the victim of _____________ (fill in the blank - fake news, the deep state, a witch hunt, etc.). I’ve never once heard him take responsibility for anything or admit to making a mistake. Ask yourself, how is that even possible? Even my 5-year-old will take responsibility for his mistakes once in a while and apologize. The buck stops with William!

The halcyon days of politics involving binders of women and baskets of deplorables are long gone. We’re now facing pails of white supremacists and vats of Nazis. In all seriousness, we’re at a point in history where our nation is teetering on the edge of fascism and a scary number of people — fellow Americans — seem to be okay with this. Or worse, they’re actively cheering it on. We are fighting against an administration that propagates fear, hatred and divisiveness. It feels like most Trump supporters are too far gone to be reasoned with, and honestly, are not worth the time and effort to attempt to get through to. I doubt most would bother reading my pleas written here, and if they did, they’d only scoff at them. But, if anyone out there reading plans to vote for the human piece of garbage who currently resides in the White House, please take a look in the mirror and ask yourself what kind of future you want for your children and grandchildren? If you support him, you support all that he stands for. All of it. And, seriously, how can you live with yourself? Good vs. evil, Iron Man vs. Thanos. The choice on November 3rd is that simple.

 

The Deplorables - Trump's America

Our Unprecedented Challenging Shitshow

NOTE: The following was written over the past few weeks as I struggle to keep up with the ever changing newscycle from hell. This is my brain throwing out various rants and raves about life in America right now. Not the most cohesive of writing, but I wanted to put it out into the world because it feels good to get it off my chest. 

Donald Trump is a malignant tumor growing on our democracy and he must be excised with great precision. I imagine this analogy has been made many times before, but I’d argue it’s a rather accurate depiction of where we find ourselves today. Once Trump the tumor is removed, any remaining cancer must be aggressively treated with everything we have in our democratic arsenal. Step one — get rid of the tumor itself. This takes place November 3, 2020. Step two — clean up the mess and repair the damage. Both steps won’t be easy by any measure, but I believe completing them is not insurmountable. Step one must involve an overwhelming electoral defeat of Trump — a resounding defeat that cannot be denied, even by the most cuckoo of cuckoo conservative Covidiot. Sadly, there seems to be no shortage of these FoxNews watching, MAGA hat wearing, conspiracy theory believing asshats and I worry that any Trump defeat in November will be met with denial and lead to the election being contested. I fear violence, especially since the far right nut jobs are the ones with all the guns. I’m sure their firepower far exceeds that of the “radical” left. Guess maybe we should have been more concerned about that second amendment. Oh silly liberals . . . AR-15’s are for everybody!

Defeating Trump in a landslide won’t be easy especially considering the divisiveness of our politics and the cult Trump has managed to build out of his base. These tried and true Trump believers are beyond being reasoned with. They have drunk the Trump Kool-Aid and as baffling as it is for those of us still living in reality to understand, we need to let it go. Facts, logic and science mean nothing to them and Trump can do no wrong in their eyes. In fact, they seem to take pride in their own ignorance and how far they will go to support him just to piss off those libtard snowflakes. So I say, fuck em’. It’s not worth our time or energy to give them the attention they so desperately want. Let them wear their racism on their sleeves — or in this case their hats — and let them wave their ridiculous flags. They’re a bunch of garbage people worshiping their great trash heap leader. Let them be on the wrong side of history, that is their choice. Sadly, I doubt they will ever feel the shame any reasonable person would when all things are said and done.

Trump is America’s abusive partner guilty of extreme gaslighting. America must leave him and leave him now. If America stays with Trump for another four years, I don’t doubt democracy dies. How does America get out of this abusive relationship? Simple — voters. It all comes down to voters. Our ballots are our weapons. We can guide America out of this toxic relationship by voting for Biden. Think of the Democratic Party as a democracy abuse shelter. It’s far from perfect — it has plenty of issues — but it’s generally full of good ideas and intentions and believes in creating an America that is safe and prosperous for all. It still holds on to the tenets of the Constitution. It will be a safe haven for America following four solid years of abuse at the hands of Trump and the GOP. The Democratic Party may need a lot of work and renovations, but it can provide a place for America to heal, recover and to eventually rise again to be better and stronger for every American.

The thoughts above were written over the past couple weeks, before Trump tested positive for Covid. The fact that he has been hospitalized with the virus doesn’t change a whole lot regarding the way I feel about his “leadership” and the upcoming election. What it does do is cast even more uncertainty into the unprecedented challenging shitshow of a situation we find ourselves in, with only a few weeks before the most important presidential election of our lifetimes. This leads me to ask, holy hell, what’s next? It seems a lot of people are struggling with how they’re supposed to be feeling at this moment in history. I see some people feeling guilty for wishing Trump ill, even wishing him dead. I’ve also seen the other side, someone feeling bad for not wishing him dead. Mind you, my Facebook feed is pretty damn liberal. I say, don’t worry about how you’re “supposed” to feel. Just feel. All feelings are valid and, if you’re like me, they’re also constantly shifting and changing. I oscillate from wishing him dead one minute and wishing he pulls through so he can be sent to prison after he loses the election. I even found myself wishing hell exists so he can spend the rest of eternity being punished for his crimes against humanity.

Will voting Trump out of office solve all our problems? Of course not, but it's a good start and I truly believe we cannot make it through another four years of his corrupt ass administration. I realize Trump is more a symptom of our country's overwhelming problems than the cause, but if the last four years has proved anything, it's the power one person has to exacerbate just about every problem our country faces, to sow divisiveness on every issue and to spread fear and hate among his supporters. I've had enough. It's time to vote him out and work together to create an America we can be proud of. Don't give up. It's not hopeless. Vote!

 

A simple Covid-19 treatment and economic recovery plan all rolled into one (no this is totally not clickbait)

I used to write essays from time to time about random shit, much of which, I guess, could be categorized as angry feminist mom rants. I found it helpful and therapeutic to get my thoughts out of my head and down on paper, or should I say on my computer screen.
These days, I haven’t been writing much, as there’s too much going on in the world and it’s become impossible to find any kind of focus. I miss the benefit of clearing my head and in the midst of a global pandemic, my head desperately needs to be cleared. With that in mind, I’d like to take time to purge my brain of months of anxious thoughts, worries and anger. It’s my goal to find a little time each night to write. I don’t plan on being entirely focused or sensical, so bear with me.

There are so many words and phrases that have become synonymous with the pandemic. These are all words and phrases I would be happy to never hear again in my lifetime. Unprecedented. New Normal. Uncertainty. Challenging times. “So everything sucks now,” is the phrase I think best encompasses it all. Wonder why that one hasn’t caught on. Because, really, everything sucks now. I often feel like all the things that ever regularly brought us joy have abruptly disappeared. One thing I’ve learned about global pandemics is they have a way of sucking the joy right out of life, or sucking the life right out of you. Living a joyless life is much preferred to death itself . . . I think. I try to keep that in mind each day while wading through the avalanche of shit and bad news that has become everyday life.

When I begin to feel particularly down—basically whenever I’ve caught up on the most recent news headlines regarding our government’s shitshow of a pandemic response or the newest most egregious racist act committed by some dumbfuck—I try my hardest to keep things in perspective and be grateful for what we have. I know other families have it so much worse than my own. This then leads to feeling guilty about my whining, but I guess guilt is better than feeling sorry for myself. I’m just afraid of saying, “well, it could always be worse,” as it has become a self fulfilling prophecy these days. It’s all about perspective. Perspective . . . and trying to focus on the things within my control. Perspective and control seem important for getting through this. Yet, in my darkest moments, I worry that there is no “through this,” and there will be no actual end to the pandemic. And then I just say fuck.

It’s been argued that Donald Trump is just a symptom of America's problems and not the root of all evil like many of us believe. While this may hold some truth, it does not stop me from feeling more hate than I ever thought possible toward another human being. In fact, if I contract Covid and end up in the ICU, I plan to focus my will to live on my incredibly strong desire to outlive that mother fucker, my incredible desire to bear witness to his death. Surely, this desire would work much better than hydroxychloroquine or drinking a shot of Clorox. I so badly want to have the chance to piss on his grave, though sadly I imagine the logistics of this act would be tricky. But ooooh, the satisfaction of doing it would be so grand. Bonus—I imagine you could sell tickets and raise an awful lot of money for a chance to piss on Donald J. Trump’s grave. Now that’s the kind of economic recovery measure I’m all about.

The Rollercoaster

In the two months since the covid-19 stay-at-home order became part of our new reality, life has felt like an emotional rollercoaster with no way off. This is the best analogy I can come up with to describe the twists and turns for how I feel from one moment to another. Everything is constantly shifting and ultimately results in utter exhaustion. At some moments, everything will feel fairly normal, until I realize that my jaw has been clenched all day and all my muscles are tense. Not normal. There are good days and there are bad days, but mostly, I find it so difficult to concentrate on anything for a long period of time. My brain is in a perpetual fog. I’ve been reading the same book for what feels like ages, and it’s a really good book. But to sit down and actually stick with it seems like so much work for my tired, mushy brain. I did manage to get through Tiger King, though, so I guess I have that going for me.

A selfie for each week of the stay-at-home order—a little project my Facebook mom group is doing. Watch us stress age!

It’s been said we’re collectively going through the stages of grief, which makes sense. We’re grieving for the death of our normal day to day lives. Denial, anger, bargaining, depression and acceptance. I’ve certainly been feeling many of these stages, often multiple times a day, sometimes multiple times an hour. I’m well past denial at this point and mostly wavering between depression and anger. In some ways, I’m slowly inching toward acceptance, but really, with all the uncertainty involved with a global pandemic, I’m not really sure if acceptance can exist. What exactly would we be accepting when it’s difficult to see a clear resolution. So many questions about this virus remain and there are so many factors beyond our control. Which leads me back to anger and depression. And really, I don’t have time for depression, so I guess I’d like to focus on anger. There is certainly no shortage of anger welling up in me as a result of our situation and the way it is being handled by those in power and the lousy response of so many fellow Americans.

I am a white, middle aged, middle class, progressive, liberal woman and I am well familiar with my privilege. I am in a position where sheltering in place is relatively easy and I’m fully aware of how much worse this could all be. My husband still has a job and can work from home, we have health insurance, we have a backyard where our boys can play and we can utilize grocery delivery. When I’m feeling down about the stay-at-home order, I remind myself of all this and do my best to gain perspective and remember to be grateful. It’s often a balancing act of allowing myself to grieve and feel my feelings, but to not be a fucking asshole about it. We are lucky. If I feel super crappy and am having a hard day, I try to imagine what it’s like for someone who is poor, living in a tiny apartment with children, who is forced to go to a low wage job, all while risking their health and the health of their family for the sake of survival. The overwhelming inequalities that were always part of our capitalism system are now glaringly in the spotlight. It’s almost laughable that so many people who now laud these “essential” workers as heroes, just yesterday believed increasing the minimum wage to something livable was a travesty. It’s funny how tunes change when your life's on the line. 

I keep myself sane with cross stitch inspired by the news headlines.

There is so much to be angry about that I feel like I could write forever. It’s impossible to not focus on the complete lack of anything even remotely resembling leadership from our federal government. I guess in many ways, this should not be surprising coming from an administration that, from the very start, made it its mission to dismantle the very institutions and agencies that made this country great, all in the guise of “draining the swamp.” So much institutional knowledge has been stripped away as Trump and his cronies filled cabinet positions with the most unqualified candidates, many of which held conflicts of interest regarding the very departments they now run. Everyday we were bombarded with more and more news that seemed incomprehensible and mind boggling, until we faced complete outrage fatigue. We were worn down by it all, day in and day out. The agencies that provide safety nets for the most vulnerable among us, were hollowed out and depleted of funding in favor of loosening regulations for big money corporations, just so they could make even more money. I have a hard time understanding the rich and corporate America. At what point do they have enough? Does that point exist?

As the pandemic reached the shores of America, we were already worn down. Now the good old days of pre-pandemic outrage fatigue seem rosy in comparison to our new reality and the constant stream of news regarding the ineptitude of our federal leaders in response to this crisis. Of course, I do not blame Trump for the covid-19 pandemic. I realize he is one man, just one symptom of the bigger problems of capitalism in America and he obviously did not cause this pandemic. If he were to drop dead, all our problems wouldn’t magically be fixed. However, since his election, his administration—aided by the spineless GOP—have done an amazing, tremendous job chipping away at so many areas of our government designed to protect and help its citizens, along with damaging the press by perpetuating the idea of “fake” news. All of this left us incredibly ill prepared to battle the incredible challenges of covid-19.

As enablers of Trump, the republican party should be ashamed of themselves—if they actually possessed an ounce of integrity and could actually feel shame. I am more disappointed in the party— which I know must have some sensible, intelligent members—than I am of Trump, who has proven himself time and time again to be lacking in everything from empathy to basic intelligence. Members of the GOP have surrendered their party to Trump and his MAGA base, letting them take a bulldozer to the federal government and leaving it an ineffectual shell of its former self. And now they’re seeing the results of their inaction, the completely incompetent federal response to a major global health crisis. Who is it that pays the price? It’s the most vulnerable members of our communities, of course.

Trying to keep a sense of humor, one stitch at a time.

I could go on and on about my anger with the lack of leadership on the federal level, but to what end? What good does it do in the long run? Considering the enormity of the problem that we’re facing as a nation and as humans, I’d like to try to contribute something positive to the situation instead. Although writing about my anger is good for my mental well being, it obviously does little to help with the overall situation. If you can relate to what I’ve written and share my views, I do highly recommend venting and getting these feelings out there. It clears the mind and calms the nerves.

Like everyone these days, I’m spending entirely too much time on social media, keeping up with pandemic news and trends. Unfortunately, one of these trends has been the unintentional—and sometimes intentional—spread of misinformation and conspiracy theories. Although this is nothing new when it comes to social media, in a time of a global pandemic, the spreading of misinformation is a much more serious and egregious act, one that truly is a matter of life and death. Given my background in science and journalism, I have found myself in a number of useless Facebook arguments with old high school acquaintances and others regarding these misinformation posts. I find it impossible to not speak up about it and feel disheartened when I see people I like and respect disseminating this bull shit. Upon responding to one such post, an old high school friend asked me what news outlets I utilize for reliable information. This got me thinking about the average news consumer and wondering how well equipped they are for distinguishing between reliable information and bull shit in this crazy media age. It is my hope to write up a basic media user guide for the average news consumer, with the hopes to help readers distinguish between reliable news sources and misinformation. This is my next little shelter-at-home project. Please look for it in the coming days, as I need to find the quiet time to write and remember what I learned back in journalism school.

Until then, stay safe and stay sane!

Cross Stitching Through a Pandemic

I enjoy writing essays when I get the chance, but finding the time to write has always been a challenge for me. These past two months, with the ongoing coronavirus pandemic, have been especially challenging, as I’ve found it incredibly difficult to concentrate on much of anything for longer than two minutes. My brain seems to be in a fog much of the time as I cycle through the wide range of emotions involved when the whole world is suddenly turned upside down. So today, May 3rd, I’ve finally decided to try to sit down and just write for awhile. I am sitting at a picnic table in a park near my home with my laptop, escaping from my family. I’m grateful that it’s warm enough to spend time outside again. I’m grateful for a lot of things these days and realize how good we have it compared to so many. My husband is still employed and working from home, we have a backyard where the kids can get out and run around and we’re able to do grocery delivery. On the days when I feel at my lowest, I try to keep in mind the hardships faced by so many others and try to keep everything in perspective. 

 

When it comes to words and thoughts regarding the current state of the world, so far I’ve only been able to muster some bad poetry to share on Facebook from time to time. Mostly, I’ve been cross stitching my thoughts and feelings on the matter. I’m fairly new to cross stitch, but before the pandemic hit, I had started a Facebook page and business of sorts—Bad Bitch Cross Stitch. A few friends have bought some of my work and I found it to be a fun way to make a little money on the side. Most of my pre-pandemic work consisted of snarky commentary riddled with profanity, because let’s face it, profanity is fun and gets straight to the point. I started with a pattern I bought exclaiming, “Don’t Be A Douche Canoe.” Always good advice. I like to think of myself as a no bullshit kind of person, so irreverent cross stitch seemed right up my alley. I made a number of cross stitch pieces featuring my favorite Lizzo lyrics, along with some “Zero Fucks To Give” pieces and a flipping Trump the bird cross stitch. I had a few custom orders from friends and was enjoying this little hobby.

When coronavirus reared its ugly head, I found a new focus—a god damn global pandemic. I can’t say this pleases me any as I would go back to lighthearted snarky cross stitch in a second. But for now, I find myself stitching up a storm, as the tedious nature of cross stitch really calms my nerves and helps with my pandemic related anxiety. Bonus, there’s no shortage of ideas out there for pandemic cross stitch. Much of my inspiration is straight from the day’s headlines or whatever new pandemic related meme is floating around. As I see it, these coronavirus cross stitch pieces are recording history in a sense, one stitch at a time, all while keeping me sane. It’s my hope that they can add a little levity in a time when it is much needed.

I’m trying to hold onto all of my pandemic related pieces, but am happy to replicate them for anyone interested in buying. I did sell one of my favorites to an old college friend who lives in California and I now need to replicate it for my personal cross stitch pandemic record. It reads, “you can’t spell divorce without COVID.” She’s currently in the process of going through a divorce and found it funny. On the flip side of the coin, I did manage to offend a woman on my Facebook moms group with this cross stitch, which made me feel bad, as I certainly do not wish divorce upon anybody. However, I feel like the sentiment is something we can all relate to these days as we shelter in place and live on top of each other. This kind of humor isn’t for everybody and I also realize that swearing like a sailor may put some people off. I’m more than happy to tone down my potty mouth and substitute symbols # @ & % for vowels if someone is looking for a more subtle message. Once your kids are old enough to read, it makes these issues a bit more tricky to navigate. We have plenty of discussions about mommy and daddy words vs. kid words around here. 

Obviously, my cross stitch has a political bent to it, as it’s no secret that I loath Trump and all he represents. It’s safe to say I feel the same way about anyone who continues to support him in any way. When this shit is all over and I’m back to cross stitching Lizzo lyrics, I’m so ready for Lizzo 2020—Make America Shine Again. 

I'm always taking custom orders or happy to reproduce any of my pieces. For more information,
check out the Bad Bitch Cross Stitch Facebook page - https://www.facebook.com/pg/Bad-Bitch-Cross-Stitch-101625671458636

Sweat the Small Stuff

Following an abnormal mammogram, I recently spent five long excruciating days waiting for test results from a breast biopsy. Test results typically take two to three business days to return, and as luck would have it, my biopsy was scheduled on a Wednesday, meaning I would get them back either Friday or Monday. After living in a state of heightened anxiety all day Friday, I finally broke down and made a call to the breast center just as 5 p.m. rolled around, to see if results were available. I was referred to my primary care provider, who apparently would have the results if they had been released and then spent an hour on hold before reaching someone who could tell me what was up. The kind woman I finally spoke to let me know the biopsy samples hadn’t been processed and I would have to wait through the weekend until Monday. Ugh.

The biopsy procedure itself was straightforward and easy enough. Following last year’s experience with an eye injection—yes, and actual needle was inserted into my right eye—the experience of having a needle inserted into my ample, cushy breast was a piece of cake. A team of medical personnel were on hand to extract five tissue samples from good old lefty with an ultrasound guided needle. I even got to watch it all on a monitor, while a lovely nurse named Emily distracted me with conversation about everyday life. Considering both my sons were born via C-section, exposing my body to virtual strangers was certainly nothing new. All of my body is a stage, and lefty and righty are merely players.

But the results, the results . . . I was much more concerned about the results than the actual procedure. What would those five tissue samples reveal? To say I was scared AF is an understatement.

I wanted an answer—cancer, not cancer—and I wanted that answer as soon as possible. I wanted to get on with my life and to deal with the next step, whatever it would be. A full weekend of uncertainty was driving me crazy and I had to keep myself occupied. It was hard to keep the images of what cancer would look like out of my head. Treatment options, chemo, radiation—these were all things that happened to other people. I held on tightly to the words of the initial doctor who looked at my mammogram and recommended the biopsy—”It’s probably not cancer.” Those words echoed in my head. “It’s probably not cancer.” But it could be. It could be cancer.

As Monday rolled around and I faced another day of waiting for my phone to ring, I was once again greeted with clenched muscles and an inability to breath. Finally, I had a really good understanding of what anxiety feels like. After worrying with friends over text and messenger, I finally called my primary provider to inquire if the results were available. I spoke with a nurse who said she’d look into it and get back to me. I tried to proceed with my day the best I could. I picked up my son from preschool and made my way to Target to do the week’s grocery shopping. The whole time, buzzing in the back of my mind, my worried thoughts were a constant distraction. Finally, after loading my son and my groceries into the back of my vehicle and settling down into the driver’s seat, my phone rang.

Emily the nurse was on the other end of the line. She said she had my biopsy results and asked if it was a good time. Was there ever really a good time? Sure, sitting in my car in the Target parking lot might not be the best time in the world, but I had been waiting for what felt like an eternity to hear the results, so yes, it was a great time. This is the moment I would learn the most beautiful word in the English language—benign. Sure, it doesn’t sound beautiful when you speak it aloud, but at that moment, I couldn’t stop repeating it in my head. Benign, benign, benign. I repeated the word in my head over and over again even as Emily shared more details. Fibroadenoma . . . common . . . dense breasts . . . all that really mattered in that moment was benign.

Using my phone there in the parking lot, I shared the good news with close friends and family, until my four-year-old got impatient with me and insisted we get moving. The sense of relief that washed over me following the call was immense and unlike anything I’ve ever experienced. It felt like an incredible weight had been lifted off my shoulders and I could breathe again and for the rest of the day I experienced a state of euphoria.

As a recovering Catholic experiencing a sense of euphoria, I wasn’t surprised to find guilt lurking right around the corner. I had to ask myself, why was I so lucky when so many others I’ve known were not? Of course, I have no answers to that question and only know there’s really nothing quite as unfair as fucking cancer.

It’s human nature to take our good fortune and health for granted. It’s just how we’re built. I’m extremely grateful for the benign outcome of my biopsy, but I’m not sure what will serve as a reminder to not take it all for granted. The bruise from my biopsy will fade, just as surely as the memory of my anxiety waiting for the results. It’s very difficult to fight human nature and not just jump back into old patterns of behavior. But, until that happens, I plan on reveling in all the mundane little things in life I have regained the privilege to complain about. It truly is a privilege to complain and whine about the little annoyances we run into during our day to day lives, the things we think are ruining our day. The jerk that parked too close to your car and is making it nearly impossible for you to secure your kid in his car seat. The slow ass driver who is making you a few minutes late to pick-up your kid from preschool. The douche canoe who ordered five blended frappuccinos in the drive-thru line at Starbucks. Bitch away and be happy these are the most serious problems you’re facing.

They say don’t sweat the small stuff. I say fuck that. Sweat the small stuff. Sweat ALL the small stuff. Then thank your lucky ass stars you have the privilege to do so, because you do not have fucking cancer. I’ll take the small stuff over the big stuff anyday.