Chapter 116: Butterfly Season
Welcome to the updated website! For those who have been on this blog journey with me from the beginning, middle, or since today- thank you. Sharing vulnerable thoughts along this journey with you all is therapeutic. The messages I receive when my words resonate with a difficult gift you also happen to be facing makes me feel less alone. It gives me a sense of purpose, of destiny, of “well shit, this happened, but maybe it happened for a reason” mentality.
I’ve been a terrible blogger all summer, mostly because I’ve been trying to follow my own advice and live mindfully, fiercely, and with intention. Here are some highlights from the past few months:
Work: Loving my job as a hospitalist. My colleagues are phenomenal. My new role as an assistant professor of medicine with the University of MN medical school is a fun title that summarizes my love of teaching. The start of a research project in patient advocacy will soon be off to a roaring start.
Home: So much good, so much love. With the return of my brother and sister-in-law to Minnesota, my heart is full. From afternoon pool days to evening boat cruises with family, I’m a lucky gal. Brock and I have taken time to travel together, from Chicago to New York to Greece (soon) and to our neighborhood ice cream shop (more times than I care to admit). As we near our one-year wedding anniversary, I am even more in love.
Health: My recent brain MRI was free of tumor growth! This summer’s scan marked three years of “progression-free survival,” brain cancer’s near peer to remission. Despite no new tumor growth, the joys of radiation damage continue to bring me gifts. Radiation damage can continue for up to 10 years post treatment- joy! The gift that keeps on giving! My radiation damage gift is fatigue. Every few months, it grows just a tiny bit worse. But, that’s ok. I’ll take fatigue over tumor any day, thank you very much. Although my brain’s health is doing well, I did get diagnosed with cancer #2 this week- skin cancer. I’m incredibly lucky that it’s a mild one simply requiring a small surgery. But, it’s once again a reminder that our health is not promised and that perfect, scar and damage-free bodies are as fictional as Barbie reminded us they are. Also- wear your sunscreen!
I write this blog today after a long (public) writing hiatus. I’ve been typing my thoughts away all summer on a new memoir about my time back in Thailand, when I returned to the scene of the crime this past spring. For me, this return journey was absolutely freeing. It was essentially a way to reclaim my experience, to face the place that broke me with my new Kintsugi-mended self. It was an incredible, life-changing experience filled with tears, smiles, old friends, and new tattoos. It’s a story I’ll wait to share in a book form, someday.
So far, I’m realizing this blog has nothing to do with its title- Butterfly season. I should get to that…
My writing inspiration came today in the form of six Monarch butterflies I saw while walking the dogs. These butterflies were orange and bold and beautiful. They reminded me of a fact I read recently about butterfly goo.
I had never thought much about the process of a caterpillar becoming a butterfly, so when I read that the caterpillar releases enzymes to dissolve all of its tissues while in its cocoon I was disgusted and absolutely fascinated. Butterfly goo!
These beautiful Monarchs had a message for me and I was so glad to recognize it. They flew around me and reminded me that they didn’t start out as beautiful, radiant winged creatures. They started as creepy little crawlers who had to morph into literal goo to transform themselves.
What a metaphor for our lives! I too went through a butterfly goo period of time. Not once, not twice, but many times. I’m sure I’ll be goo once more someday. But, for this brief moment, I’m flapping my butterfly wings and they feel great.
We start, we stop, we transform, we break down, we overcome. Like butterfly goo, we melt before we fly.
This summer, my goo mindset changed. Instead of “I have cancer,” I’ve emerged with the mindset of “I had cancer.” You are a survivor too, in more ways than one I am sure.
What has your butterfly self survived through?
Fondly,
Courtney
©️ CB2023