really letting go

After my surgery, before radiation, I started to experience a new phenomenon within myself.

I have done enough priestess/goddess/newmoon/magical rituals to know the words of 'letting go'

"I let go of hatred"... "I let go of greed"... "I let go of jealousy"... "I let go of...."

But to experience it first had within my daily life, with something I truly love, is new.

I started a new business last year around this time. As the company started to really rock n'roll, I was diagnosed with breast cancer. As readers of my blog know, Ana Paula Markel, my business partner, was not only gracious with our business, but also opened her family doors to me while I went through my chemotherapy. I lived in her house while she 'doula-ed' me out of the 'old man from florida' routine and into a functioning human.

Somewhere around mid-January, post chemo, post surgery, I had a real opportunity to look at my current life. I realized that I still have a part time job called 'cancer', another part time job called, "healing Lizzi", a third job called "understanding my medical bills", and another job called "work" - to help pay for the first three part time jobs.

Any down time I had was being put towards having a semblance of a social life, and I knew deep within me that I did not have enough energy to give to birthing this new company we had created together too.

At the same time I started to realize that my dog of one year, Molly - a show quality, high strung, rescue cocker spaniel - needed more attention than I could actually give her. Molly would start to get on my nerves because she is so full on dependent.

I was actually starting to resent her.

Molly is not a bad dog, she just needs full time 24/7 attention. And I had to admit that I am not Wonder Woman, and I can't give her what she needs.

It did not take a lot of dawdling or 'talking it out' to find clarity. Neither Molly nor Ana Paula are "wrong". It is about me realizing that if I keep Molly, it would be selfish of me to do so. If I was to really put Molly first, I would have to find her a home that would put Molly first. If I really and truly love Bini Birth, the company that Ana Paula and I created together, if I want Bini to grow, I need to step down as 'parent' and fully embrace the place of 'auntie'. If I am able to really love myself and admit the truth of what I can and can't do, it is best not only for me but also Bini & Molly.

And with Molly - well, that was a no brainer. Within moments of my dad taking care of her while I was in the hospital after my January surgery, I could see that she really was not my dog, she was his dog. And since I shipped Molly back to them in Connecticut, a whole new world has opened up for my parents and me. We have something in common that we all love to talk about: Molly and her daily escapades! And Molly is where she needs to be, the center of the universe of human beings who are home a lot.

Molly is no longer a responsibility that drains me, but a funny cocker spaniel that practically speaks english! And Bini Birth is no longer a company that needs my energy to grow, but a company that has my effortless support and approval to make sure it does grow!

Letting go is no longer a letting go of 'the bad qualities' of something outside or within me. It has become a process of letting go of my addictions to being an overachiever, or wonder woman. Letting go has become a process of loving myself first, and then really loving the other and seeing what is best for the other in relationship to me. Because this way of letting go is about embracing myself with love, it is easy to embrace the other with love. By letting go of these two responsibilities I have created more space for love, healing and grace in my life.

I have not failed, I'm just playing another round of 'whose the grown-up', and I'm amazed at how gracefull I have become at playing that game.

Radiation has begun.

Radiation has begun, and already I have missed the first two days due to a birth. Technically I am supposed to me there everyday at the same time, but the team there is making an exception to the rules for me, as babies can’t be predicted or rushed.

I arrive for my first appointment and am greeted by the cheery Radiation technologist.

“Good morning Elizabeth. How was the birth?”

I’m on the edge of exploding because I can’t believe I am really going to do this every day for 6 weeks.

“Long, but really good. “ I reply sweetly.

“You know, missing those days was okay, as they were your first. But, once radiation begins, you will need to find a way to get here everyday.”

She might as well have just taken a knife and jabbed it into my heart and twisted it around.

Grumble, Grumble, Grumble.

Because I’m not good with filters I blurt out, “I’m not happy about being here.”

“Oh, but it is good for you to take care of yourself”.

I look at her as though she has 10 eyes are reply gritting my teeth, “Yes”, while I think:

“Fuck you. Take care of myself? I took care of myself and I still got cancer!”



“So, Lizzi, the radiation began, yes? How is it?” inquires my mom.

I do everything I can to not leash my angry tiger out on her and be responsible for my feelings.

“I hate it, mom." I'm feeling mildly zen.

"It is a pain in the fucking ass!" Okay, I'm owning my anger, but I can feel the boil. Careful Lizzi, don't project onto her, she did nothing wrong, don't pick a fight....

"Everyday I have to drive to Cedars, find parking, undress, change into an ugly blue gown, wait my turn with a beeper, lie down on the machine, have my 10 minute turn of radiation, take the gown off, slather cream onto my breasts, get dressed, get the parking validated and then start my day! A 10 minute appointment is a 60 minute inconvenience!” I'm in a full on animated complaint now.

My mom is at a loss as to what to say.



My friends want to know if it hurts.

"No, it doesn't hurt. There is a warm heat coming out of the machine and it makes a loud buzzing noise. I go into a deep meditation and imagine that intense rays of LovingKindness are coming through me via the machine. Sometimes I visualize golden rays, other time it is a rainbow of fairy dust." I'm still calm and a bit blase.

"It isn't the heat, it is the cold that gets me. It is so fuckin' cold in that basement room, that if I had nipples, they would be standing at attention!" Uh-oh, I'm starting to boil....

And I can't leave it alone. I proceed to roll down that hill. "And another thing...I have to be there the same fuckin’ time, everyday, 5 days a week, for 6 weeks! You know me, I can’t even plan my vacations more than a few weeks in advance, and now I have to plan where I am going to be every day? It sucks ass!”

I have left no rooms for my friends to squeeze in a word while I dump and vent.



I tell anyone who will listen how pissed off that not only do I have to do this everyday, but I also have to slather on special cream from France 4 times a day to make sure I don't get radiation burns!

I witness myself with my pissy attitude and suffocating complaints and realize that I have become my father!

I spent a good amount of my life rebelling against his favorite words of wisdom, "There are some things in life that you don't want to do, but have to do."

And here I am, full on in that quote, backed up into a corner. I am not able to control how this happens. And, I am choosing to not run away from this feeling even though I don't like it.

So, I surrender into my anger and frustration.

I go to a prenatal with one of my clients who is pregnant with baby number three and has become a dear friend.

“So, the radiation began. Is it going well?”

I loose the plot.

“I feel like I am a caged animal who is stuck behind the bars of this daily commitment. The last time I had to be anywhere on a regular, daily basis was 12 years ago with my last corporate job!”

She looks innocently at me in day 5 of her podromal labor and sighs, “I so get it sister." And yes, she does because prodromal labor is labor that goes on and on and on... in general it is not painful, but a pain in the ass because it can not be controlled or predicted. It tries on ones level of patience. She then chirps up and says, "Well, why don’t you turn this into a ritual. If you have to be doing the same thing every day, why not add a little something to it and treat yourself to a nice tea afterwards?”

What? is she serious? and deprive myself of some well deserved complaining?

Oy. She is right. And I am exhausting myself with all this complaining, because I can always choose to not do the radiation. But I know that choice would only be made as a way to 'run away' from this yicky feeling and my perception that when I can't 'will' things to go 'my way', I have to surrendered my freedom and I've failed.

Why do I think that a daily commitment is ruining my life? Since when did I give the radiation SO much of my personal power?

And all of a sudden it hits me square in the eye - I'm in the middle of yet another labor. I too am in a prodromal labor! Like a mom who is prodromal, there is always the choice of augmenting the labor with pitocin or herbs to get the labor going... I can choose at any moment to not sit in this place and be done with radiation... or one can choose to surrender into the complete 'out of control' feeling, stomp one's feet, allow oneself to feel the anger of not being in control and at some point develop a depth of patience that one never thought possible.

Here I sit, with the full choice to discontinue radiation to avoid these feelings and my choice to go deep into my feelings. When I sit quietly in these depths I find that I am resistant to discipline. Somewhere, somehow, I have equated discipline and a daily physical commitment with limitation of freedom - and I'm addicted to complaining about it!

I am back where I started.

I breath in my commitment to not 'fight', I align myself up with the word 'trust', and I exhale my uncomfortable feelings around the word 'discipline' and admit, that I don't like it when I am not in 'control'.

Stick a fork in me, coz I'm done!

And with that information, I decide to ritualize my experience. I stop everyday at my favorite underground juice bar, where I down a double shot of wheatgrass, grab fresh juices for the day and drag my ass to radiation - with full permission to continue grumbling away and stomping my feet.

I continue to witness this place in myself without judgment, holding that scared, dysfunctional place within the health of trust that I know is my true self.

I settle.

I breath in more spaciousness.

And continue into this unknown with the big toes testing out the waters of peace while I am in the midst of not knowing the answer.