Wonder Woman

One of my strongest memories of childhood is being Wonder Woman. I was around 5 or so, and we were living at my grandparents. Maybe I remember it so well because I've seen pictures, or maybe I just truly believed I was a superhero. I had Wonder Woman underoos. Yes, I said underoos- an amazing invention of the early eighties that made it okay for small children to run around in their underwear. I wish I had underoos now. I hate pants. Anyway, back to my story...

My very cool Aunt Megan was visiting, and she took the time- as only cool aunts will- to help make my transformation into Linda Carter complete. She took the time to help fashion the gold cuffs for my wrists and a very excellent tiara- all with their requisite red stars. I had the boots and the attitude. In fact, I'm pretty sure we made a truth lasso as well. So there I was, able to fight crime, catch the bad guys, and generally do whatever I wanted. I had super human powers. I was invincible.

See, aren't I cute? Let's not comment about the amazing blue shag carpet and lime green bedspread. It's best left alone.

Perhaps the reason I remember this so well is because, even at a young age, there was a part of me who believed I could do anything. There was no obstacle I couldn't conquer. Even in my underwear. Some might argue that in my early twenties I conquered most of my challenges in my underwear, but those are stories best told over martini's. And I still have a good pair of Fuji me Boots.

At one point during chemo, I was taking to my Aunt- the very same one who helped me become superhuman. I remember the conversation well. I was standing outside of Old Navy, and I was bitching about how I was too fat for my clothes, my shoes, my wedding ring. I was bitching about how it was hard to work AND fight cancer at the same time. My aunt, a very wise woman, not so subtly told me I was in fact not Super Woman. I should stop trying to do everything. I should prioritize. I should ask for help. I should surrender to the fact that some things that I could do before cancer would just have to wait.

This was a blow to me. What do you mean, I can't do everything I used to do? I don't understand. Doesn't that make me weak? There is NOTHING worse than weakness. Everyone tells me how amazing and strong and inspirational I am. Yada, Yada, Yada. If I am all these things, shouldn't I be able to handle it all? Isn't that what we're taught as little girls, as we're dressed up as Wonder Woman- that we can handle anything?

This is something I've struggled with the entire time I've had cancer. I have continually done too much. Other than the week of my surgery, I haven't take any time off work. I've moved across the country, I've painted a house (okay, Alan, I've painted some of a house). I've probably run myself more into the ground at times. I thought that by giving in to exhaustion sometimes, I was giving in to Cancer.

This past month, it's really hit me. I'm not Wonder Woman. I've been exhausted- so exhausted, its made it almost impossible to do anything sometimes. So I've given in. Some things don't get done. I've prioritized. I get the stuff in that's good for ME- I walk, I sleep, I do things that make me happy. If that means there's dog hair on the floor- then too damn bad. Even better, I hired a cleaning company. They come every two weeks. I've stopped berating myself for not doing everything. I like to call it "delegating." In the time it took me to clean the bathroom, I can now take a nap, or catch up on other things. And I'm not going to feel bad. Maybe I'm not Wonder Woman, but then again, they never showed Wonder Woman scrubbing hardwood floors.