Paper Chain

writing group

I cleaned out my room today, getting rid of old clothes
most of which are too big for me now
as I’ve shrunk to a skeletal version of myself.
Gathering under my bed along with old chapsticks
and safety pins and crumpled receipts
were several hospital bracelets.

I’ve been saving them for over three years now,
hoping to make them mean something at the end of this-
a bracelet chain so I can count down the days
to the 5 year word:
CURE
or an art piece displaying the excessive usage of labels and
an ID number I’ll never forget: 612212
or proof for the future me that this really did happen
or a finish line I can break through–

I find them everywhere:
in drawers, coat pockets, the bottom of my purse and car
folded in my wallet
and under my bed
I have probably 200 of them

I plan to make something out of them eventually
I have a one-woman show in the works and I’ve been taking
copious notes of all the things that have happened
“ice bag boobs” after the highest fever my nurse had ever seen
“7 liters”: – my record-breaking peeing in a single day
“No, it wasn’t breast cancer, I just have really small boobs”
I don’t even need to explain that one.

There’s a lot of comedy, truly. And there’s a lot of white.
white room, white bandages
200 white stamps
200 white plastic wishes and fears
200+ white handfuls of foamed Purell

I plan to make something out of them
even if it is just a bonfire
to simultaneously burn away Cancer Girl
and offer up incense to the sky
Praise you stars, that I am still here
and I can still make things burn.

image via

Unspoken Ink: Baby Joker

writing group

This is from last week’s Unspoken Ink Writing group; unedited.  The prompt that was given was the above photo and the words, “crazy game of poker.”

And he sits there with his baby face,

smile pasted on and frozen forever like a doll in a case

with his polka dot bonnet

and flaming cheeks holding a toy just out of reach…

Death.

I often picture him as an old man wagging a grey finger

slowly lifting it to his thin mouth

and dust falling from his hairline lip with a crumbling shhh

but then he’s gone, like the Ghost of Christmas Past

the beeping machines snap into focus

and suddenly he appears again

now a toddler holding candy

The King and Queen know nothing, because the Joker

has everything in his hands

a screaming baby Death, screaming into the past present and future

and screaming his baby laugh in your face as your life goes to shit-

I think it’s wildly unfair;

to warp the tender charm of a fresh baby’s cheeks

But his eyes tell the whole thing- curved and dark

like a black hole peeping through two crescents

his little baby feet in little baby shoes

but those eyes

don’t be fooled by his games

or the toadstools at his feet

or the candy in his fists

I’ve grown to know you, the forms you take

and the many more that will follow:

a young man getting hit in the sidewalk by a mother of two running a red light

he’s in “I don’t love you anymore”

“I never loved you”

and sometimes in your own voice:

“I could never love you”

Something You Know By Heart

On Sunday mornings, she would come into my room, waking me up, and slipping into bed beside me.  I don’t remember what we’d talk about as I’d slowly become alert to the morning sun around me.  Maybe we talked about what was for breakfast.  Maybe one of the hounds jumped into the bed to join the morning time together.  Maybe she asked what the rest of my day entailed.  Maybe we dreamt together of days filled with the promise of tomorrows.

I do not remember the words.  I remember the safety of her lying close beside me.  The feeling of having her all to myself.  The comfort of her presence in the weekend mornings in my life.

I still try to take those moments with her…those moments between being asleep and being awake when I can feel her love beside me.  Maybe we speak of breakfast.  Maybe we speak of the rest of the day.  Maybe a hound comes to join us as we lay together.

How would you respond to the writing prompt, “Something that you know by heart…” ?

—

This writing comes directly from one of our participants in our Unspoken Ink Creative Writing Group for young adult cancer survivors.  The participants met for 2 hours each week, for 10 weeks during our Spring 2016 session.  This writing has not been edited since its original creation, showing the wonderfully raw and powerful prose coming from the courageous writing group participants each week.  Our Fall 2016 session is happening now, but if you’d like to sign up for future sessions, please email info@lacunaloft.org or sign up on our interest form.

Survivor…The Process of Surviving From Another Person’s Point Of View

being a survivor

The process of surviving from another person’s point of view.  So many points of view swimming around in my mind, conjured from glances and phrases both real and imagined.  These points of view are so loud and so useless, sometimes running my thoughts in circles.

I come from a line of farmers who worked themselves into the dirt, day after day.  They survived off each other and off of the land.  My mother lived a similar life of constant tasks and chores, never resting.  I do not know where I fit in this sea of dirt and movement.  Sometimes I feel stuck in the everyday tasks of developing a routine, even leaving the house.

And these other points of view, they yell and point fingers from inside my own head.  They call names, shout words, and lend the shoulds to that word “survivor.”

Each should circles and bubbles and mutates into a point of view of its own, as the day goes on, and the shadows lengthen.

“Listen to the mustn’ts child, Listen to the don’ts.  Listen to the shouldn’ts, the impossibles, the won’ts.  Listen to the never haves, then listen close to me.  Anything can happen child, anything can be.” – Shel Silverstein

My 17 year old self knew how to make it happen.  How to be afraid of failure but do it all anyway.  She knew to tape that poem on the ceiling right above her head.  She knew how to jump into the cold water of the deep end, day after day, and chase the things that she wanted, finding freedom from those shoulds in the struggle.

The shoulds of surviving, the shoulds of being here and alive and well.  The shoulds of anxiety and fear and wholeness and health.  The shoulds of the points of view circling around my mind.  I do not yet feel freedom in the struggle.  Maybe tonight, I’ll lay my head down, think of that poem, and start over in the morning.

How would you respond to the writing prompt, “sur.vi.vor – the process of surviving from another person’s point of view. – to beat the odds, one with great courage, a true inspiration.” ?

—

This writing comes directly from one of our participants in our Unspoken Ink Creative Writing Group for young adult cancer survivors.  The participants met for 2 hours each week, for 10 weeks during our Spring 2016 session.  This writing has not been edited since its original creation, showing the wonderfully raw and powerful prose coming from the courageous writing group participants each week.  Our Fall 2016 session is already full but if you’d like to sign up for future sessions, please email info@lacunaloft.org.

Penrose Waltz

grief

I wrote this during Unspoken Ink earlier this year. It has not been edited- I believe there is a certain quality about something that just emerges from a few minutes of unadulterated writing. I’ve been thinking a lot on the process of getting healthy and becoming happy and content- and this piece floated back to my mind today. I feel like I am constantly shifting full spheres of grieving, celebration, growing, breaking, healing, breaking again, crying, laughing, sadness and grieving and laughing. It is a cycle, but not one that makes any logical sense.

—

Well first off, it doesn’t go:

Grieving, Healing, Growing.

like it was a staircase;

each step just needing to be climbed; easy

as eating cake on the porch while the summer gives way

to Fall. No,

 

It’s all over the god damn place

like a tantrum of a five-year-old

stronger than it was at two,

still unable to be consoled.

 

If it resembled a staircase

it could only be the Penrose steps

going on an on forever amen

and once more now:

when you’ve reached the top, at last!

You’re at the bottom again

and tired as hell.

 

No, it’s more like the cycle of water

merging between states of being

over and over forever amen.

 

First you’re Liquid

then something burns you so bad you turn Mist

and ascend to join the other clouds and it’s

cool and warm rubbing noses up there until

there’s too much of all of us until

we gather up our two oxygens and

plummet to earth again.

 

There is no one way to be.

There is no one form to take;

because once you’re down here (again)

you might travel the full body of a mammal

then wash the wings of a bird

then reflect the baby face of Narcissus

then harden for a season

waiting, breathless,

to do it all over again.

 

So, no, it’s not 1, 2, 3.

It’s the waltz. but all fucked up.

1 2 3 – 1 2 1 – 1 1 1 – 3 2 1 – 1 3 1

the Penrose waltz:

dancing forever, making tiny strides

here and back, up and down, grief and victory

again and

again and

again

 

To read more of the posts from our Unspoken Ink: Young Adult Cancer Creative Writing Group, go here.

Unspoken Ink Fall Session Forming Now!

young adult cancer creative writing group

The Fall Session of Unspoken Ink: Young Adult Cancer Creative Writing Group is forming now!  The group will meet for 2 hours each week via video chat, for 10 weeks.

Starting September 13th, the Fall Session will meet each Tuesday night from 5-7 pm PDT / 8-10 pm EDT.

This group is designed to take you on a journey through your cancer diagnosis and into your survivorship with a small group of your young adult cancer survivor peers. Each 10-week program consists of a weekly writing session attended via video hangout. We will get to know one another in an intimate, 8-10 person setting and address issues that transport us from initial diagnosis into the new normal and survivorship.  For the Fall Session, the group will consist of 10 young adult cancer survivors and caregivers.  Sign up will close as soon as the group is full!

Check out our Writing Group program page for more info!

Some quick logistics:
– The writing group meets for 2 hours each week, for a period of 10 weeks. A commitment to attend each week is important to group continuity and in creating a safe space. Please be on time ?  The Fall session group will begin Tuesday, September 13th and will meet on Tuesdays from 5-7 pm PDT / 8-10 pm EDT.
– Each participant will receive a name@LacunaLoft-writinggroup.org email address to use when attending each writing group session. At this email address, you will receive a weekly invitation to a google video hangout where the writing group session will take place.
– Following each weekly session, you may decide to submit your writing to Mallory (mallory@lacunaloft.org) for publication on LacunaLoft.org in their Young Adult Voices program section. This is encouraged but not mandatory.

Sign Up For Open Write Night

young adult cancer survivor writing group

Interested in checking out what it’s like to join the Unspoken Ink Creative Writing Group before committing to 10 weeks of the group?  You’re in luck!  On August 16th from 5-7 pm PDT / 8-10 pm EDT we’ll be hosting an Open Write Night!  You can spend an evening with other young adult cancer survivors and do some creative writing while you’re at it.  The Open Write Night will meet via video chat!

Sign up here!

Here’s how it works!

  1. Sign up!
  2. Lacuna Loft will assign you an email address and explain how to log in to that email address.
  3. We’ll send a calendar invite to your Lacuna Loft email address.
  4. On August 16th at 5 pm PDT / 8 pm EDT, login to your Lacuna Loft email address and join the open write night calendar invite.
  5. Spend 2 hours over video chat with your cancer survivor friends, writing and having fun!

Sign up today!

—

Want to know more about the Unspoken Ink Creative Writing Group?

The Unspoken Ink writing group uses a creative writing method (Amherst Writing and Artists (AWA) Method) wherein the facilitator provides a writing prompt and you can use that prompt in any way you’d like to create a story over a set amount of time. Once we’ve finished our writing (yes, the facilitator writes too!), everyone is given the opportunity to read their writing out loud. Hearing your own story and hearing someone else’s teaches us all so much about our experiences and our stories. Once the piece is read, we reflect on the writing – what did we like, what stood out, what do we remember. Everything is considered fiction so we do not respond to the writer as a support group may, but keep the focus on the writing.

Sometimes the prompts are about cancer, sometimes indirectly related to cancer, and sometimes not about cancer at all. Above all, the writing program emphasizes that we are more than a diagnosis.

Some logistics:
– The writing group meets for 2 hours each week, for a period of 10 weeks. A commitment to attend each week is important to group continuity and in creating a safe space. Please be on time ?  The group will begin in mid-September and will meet on Tuesdays from 5-7 pm PDT / 8-10 EDT.
– Each participant will receive a name@LacunaLoft-writinggroup.org email address to use when attending each writing group session. At this email address, you will receive a weekly invitation to a google video hangout where the writing group session will take place.
– Following each weekly session, you may decide to submit your writing to Mallory (mallory@lacunaloft.org) for publication on LacunaLoft.org in their Young Adult Voices program section. This is not mandatory!

Dear Body

young adult cancer writing group

Dear Body,

Really any body but mine.  I seek the refuge of a body with many characteristics, some of them I used to call my own.

I seek a body that doesn’t become ill at the slightest ounce of oncoming stress.  One whose sinuses don’t revolt just because I’ve worked a 50 hour week.

I seek a body that doesn’t tire so completely at 9 pm.  One, in fact, that could imagine venturing out past dark for some night time excursion or an evening of dancing.

I seek a body that requires only moderate control over the safety of its surroundings.  By safety, I do not mean dimly lit alleys.  Instead, I mean the notion of needing absolutely control over every boundary of a home.  If the body applying experiences anxiety over shoes left on or lights left off or whether the oven might burn the house down even though it hasn’t been turned on all weekend…please do not inquire further.

I seek a body ready for last minute adventures and sarcastic comments, a body not easily bruised, or weathered, or worn.

Dear Body…like I said, really any body but mine.  Please inquire further if you can sleep less than 7 hours and still leap from bed chipper and awake.  Dear Body, please inquire further if the circles under your eyes have not been painted on by chemo and stress.

…Sure, the body I have now works.  It moves and bends and runs about.  It just has such strict hours of operation and the worst tolerance for emotional discomfort without crying fatigue and melting all over the place.

Dear Body, really any body but mine…

 

How would you respond to the writing prompt, “Dear Body,…” ?

—

This writing comes directly from one of our participants in our Unspoken Ink Creative Writing Group for young adult cancer survivors.  The participants met for 2 hours each week, for 10 weeks during our Spring 2016 session.  This writing has not been edited since its original creation, showing the wonderfully raw and powerful prose coming from the courageous writing group participants each week.

Writing Group Spring Session 2016

young adult cancer writing group

The Unspoken Ink Creative Writing Group at Lacuna Loft for young adult cancer survivors has completed its 10 week spring session.  I was privileged to attend 9 out of the 10 evenings and was always astounded by the wonderfully loving and attentive ways these young adult cancer survivors connected, shared their stories, and responded to one another.  I cannot overstate how powerful the connection with this group felt every week.

You will start to see some of the stories that were written during the workshop under a new author, Unspoken Ink Creative Writing Group.  I hope you’ll join us for the next session!  I’ll be sure to spread the word when the dates have been announced!  If you would like to have the announcements sent directly to your email address, sign up here!

The Spring Session Of The Unspoken Ink Writing Group Is Full!

young adult cancer writing group

Wow!  I am so excited about the fabulous response this new program received!  The spring session of the Unspoken Ink: Young Adult Cancer + Chronic Illness Writing Group is full!  We have a group of 9 survivors in the spring session and I cannot wait to get started!  If you weren’t able to join the writing group this time around, have no fear!  We’ll run another session later this year with a slightly larger group.  In the mean time, check out the other great stuff happening here at Lacuna Loft!

In the next few months, we’ll be bringing more programs, workshops, and groups onto the site.  Want to make sure you’re keeping up to date with all the great happenings over here?  Sign up for our newsletter!

Have an idea for a workshop that you’d like to experience here at Lacuna Loft?  Email us at info@lacunaloft.org!

Interested in helping support the great programming that happens here at Lacuna Loft?  Make your tax-deductible donation today!