MeltDown.

I kept it together for more than five months.

I was the epitome of zen.

I knew I would be laid off more than five months ago. And then was actually laid off more than three months ago.

And I was all zen about it. I knew that worrying myself sick about it wouldn't change the outcome.

I was diagnosed with cancer. And beat it. And throughout nearly that entire process, I kept my cool. Because freaking out wouldn't change the outcome.

And, truth be told, if I hadn't been laid off, I might not have gone to find out that I had cancer, and maybe I would still have it.

I scrimped and saved and threw my pride out the window and allowed my friends and family to spoil me. (Which they did, and I am so grateful for that!!!)

And then, within four days, I got rid of the cancer and found out I would have a job again.

But which job?

Would it be the 6th grade math/science position that my principal asked me to take back in FEBRUARY?!? Or would I have to change schools again? Maybe even go back to (::gasp::)ELEMENTARY?!?!? Because that would suck in a thousand ways. I gave away all of my elementary stuff. I would have nothing.

And this morning was the big meeting. Shockingly, I wasn't hung over after last night's shenanigans with wine and cheese and whatnot with my girlz. (Again, struck by how blessed I am with wonderful girlfriends who heeded a text sent just the day before. They knew I needed them and came over even though it was way past a couple of their bedtimes! (NOF was the only one who knew how badly I needed them. The others just thought we were celebrating, but rose to the occasion when they heard the other reason why I was so desperate for company on that particular evening.))

So, I got myself to the meeting place. There were 101 people in there to fill 101 positions. 140 of my colleagues are still left unemployed.

And then they handed us the packet that included all 101 positions. And then seated us in order of seniority. I sat next to my colleague who was gunning for one of the two positions I wanted. And then people started choosing their positions. And there were disappointed noises coming from behind me as jobs were chosen. And I kept breathing a sigh of relief every time another elementary position was taken. Because most of these teachers don't want middle school. I knew I had a good chance, but 30 people would choose positions before me. And the woman who was right before me was freaking out. I was trying to be all nice and encouraging to her. But inside my heart was pounding. My hands were shaking. My palms were sweating. It was hard to breathe. I was texting back and forth with my friend, RA, who was about 35 people behind me. My heart ached as he told me he knew he would have to "settle."

I breathed a sigh of relief every time someone chose a position that wasn't the one I wanted. But I'd mapped out a few Plan Bs, just in case. And then someone called out a number close to the one I wanted, and I frantically flipped through the pages of the packet before confirming that "my" position was still open.

My colleague and I were poking each other and squealing under our breath at each other, telling each other that it was looking good, we'd be okay...

The woman before me had crossed off several of her Plan Bs, and I told her that whatever she chose would end up being great. She rubbed my arm and said, "I want your positive energy to rub off on me!" I laughed and thought about how I totally had her fooled.

And then it was my turn. In a clear voice, I stated my position, and it was done. I hugged my colleague quickly, and went to hug RA and give him some support.

Then I went to fill out my paperwork, and I left the building.

My principal called me just as I climbed into my car to ask me if I had gotten the position. And I told him I had... Yes, I will be teaching 6th grade math/science at my old school. Just as we had planned so many months ago.

I sent out a few texts and made a few important phone calls on my way over to my school. And I was joyous driving into the newly painted parking lot. Looking at the brand new building in which I will teach for the next school year. I got my keys and went to explore my new home.

And there I was... In my room. With the boxes I'd packed back in June, plus a whole lot of computer stuff that doesn't belong there. The room is gorgeous. The teacher workstation is amazing. And I freaking adore my chair!!!

The first thing I did was put up the poster from a recent half-marathon. I put it in a place where I will see it all the time, and I will remember how I kicked ass there.

And then I looked at the boxes and couldn't breathe. I didn't know where to start.

I called Leon to ask if he wanted to meet for lunch, that I was too overwhelmed to deal with it right then. It wasn't going to work out, so I got to work.

And unpacked nearly all of the boxes. I put stuff in the brand new cabinets. And it was a beautiful thing.

And then I left to go pick up my son.

And that's when the meltdown happened...

Five months of keeping it together throughout this whole horrific process only to end up exactly where I would have been even if this hadn't all happened!

Yes, there have been countless blessings received that wouldn't have been if I hadn't been laid off.

But holy anti-climactic occurrences!

I was bawling. Harder than I did yesterday during the whole ClaRiTy thing.

And E took my call.

Next thing I knew, I was trying to think of a place for us to meet because she was dropping everything to drive two hours in my direction to meet. The kids would play and I would be able to vent.

And just knowing that she would do that for me made me feel better. Gave me the energy to go ahead with a couple of school-related errands before heading home for some chores.

Enter Leon. Again. Since I would be meeting her in his town, I needed his help. And he totally took my call and internetted (Yes, it can be a verb!) for me to find me a place to meet them.

So, E and her kids met up with me and the kidlet for food and shenanigans of the non-alcoholic kind.

And she brought me presents. Curriculum. Books. Science kits. And Bundt cakes.

Wow.

I was so touched.

After dinner when we let the kids go play, she was the hot one that "creepy headphone guy" wanted to hit on. And when he found out she was married, he instantly turned to me... Said, "Well, you have a man..." To which I responded, "no I don't." Of course, he asked why. And I explained that I'd just broken up with someone two days ago... And he asked a couple of questions about it and then deemed Leon "a good guy". Which seemed to bum him out, actually. Later, a security guard would ask us if we were okay, that we seemed to have a visitor to our table quite often. Minutes later, he would tell us that the guy had been removed from the premises.

Good times in that town.

And it was with hugs and loves that we said our good-byes... The kids decked out in their , matching, friendship bracelets. Me with a huge bag of goodies over my shoulder.

And now, exhausted, I'm finally ready for the sleep that has been cut short for the last several nights.

While my eyes are still raw from the tears which poured from them hours ago, my heart is full... So much Light and Love coming from so many people in so many places... I could totally feel the support when I was in that room fighting for breath this morning. And I certainly felt it when E gave me a safe haven in which to break down... And I most certainly felt it when the kidlet and I were running across the street because we were so excited to see our dear friends.

So amazingly blessed are we... That I can have a MeltDown and have a friend drop everything to be with us. To celebrate. To listen. To laugh.

Thanks, E. I needed that.

I've got a little SomeThing I need to get off my chest.

So, I still have the cancer.

I was all zen when I went to the dermatologist last week. I got up and did yoga that morning. Watched an episode of Friends. I was in a good place.

I got there, got checked in, and waited a few moments.

And then I was told that my insurance was terminated.

Um, what? No, it's not. I still have insurance through the end of August.

It was a snafu and got figured out, but it was a very stressful 40 minutes or so. There were snot bubbles, yes.

Ultimately, I had to reschedule my appointment for next month.

The good news is that now the top doc in the practice will be doing my surgery. And as much as I say I don't care about scarring, it's in a pretty visible place, so the idea of having a better doc is rather appealing. Plus, I got all the insurance stuff worked out so that it didn't affect my vacation.

Friends were all indignant on my behalf, but once I left, I dried my tears, took a deep breath, and moved on.

So different from who I was six months ago...

And then the kidlet and I headed for points north to visit some dear friends... Who we actually hadn't met until we arrived at their house with our suitcases.

And they spoiled us rotten for three days straight.

There was lots of sitting around relaxing... The kids played game after game of Monopoly, Sorry, and Apples to Apples. They introduced us to Ninja Warrior, which is this awesome Japanese game show. E kicked my ass with the Pilates and the Water Aerobics. D made these amazing meals that nearly made me cry with the deliciousness. There was wine every night and coffee every morning... And one wonderful evening with margaritas and shenanigans.

We came home with a suitcase full of hand-me-downs for the kidlet, a memory stick with photos (many of which will never be posted on the internet! LOL!), a box of peanut butter bonbons, Skype on my laptop, a brain full of inside jokes and memories, and a name for my cancer.

I knew I needed to embrace it since it will remain with me for several weeks more.

And after racking my brain for a day, it took D about 45 seconds to name it: SomeThing. Because now I have a little SomeThing to get off my chest.

Yes, this is my sense of humor. And we all share the same kind. And it was lovely.

And I came home with things to anticipate, which is good. Kept me from slipping into the doldrums on the drive home...

And everything I anticipated has turned out better than I'd even hoped so far...

Time with friends, unexpected pleasures, hilly miles and a summer concert.

Yes, even with this SomeThing, I am good. Focusing on all that is wonderful and beautiful in my world.

And there is a LOT.

Laying down some ground rules so you don't piss me off.

Okay, so I have a little cancer. It's a very little cancer. It's a sarcoma, not a melanoma. It's a very common form of skin cancer. It will be removed next week, and I will be cancer-free.

Yes, it was a bit of a shock. We'd been watching this mole that had cropped up in the last couple of years, and when I went to have it removed a couple of weeks ago, the doc was just going to freeze it, like she was freezing one on my arm.

I told her that I had a weird feeling about the one on my chest, and maybe we should go ahead and biopsy it to ease my mind...

I didn't hear from her that week, and assumed that no news was good news.

Two days ago, she called me. And I'm standing there in my towel, fully expecting her to say that it was totally fine.

And that's not what she said.

It was a bit of a blur. I don't think anybody is prepared to hear that they have cancer. Of any kind.

So, I made my appointment to see the dermatologist to have the rest of it removed, and went about my day.

And when I did start telling people, I've made sure to say that it's a very minor little cancer. It's, like, the lowest form of cancer that can even be called a cancer.

Most people are being awesome about it... I like the clarifying questions. I like hearing the stories of the person they knew that had the same kind of cancer and that that person got it removed and is cancer-free. That this is curable, not just treatable. I like those stories.

I like it when people tell me that I'm totally going to kick cancer's ass, and that, yes, I CAN call myself a cancer survivor...

Because I'll be honest with you. I have a bit of an issue with being all, "I'm kicking cancer's ass!" I mean, it's a sarcoma. The doctor's going to poke me a couple of times with some local anaesthetic, cut it out, make sure she got it all, and then I'll be done. Cancer-free. No chemo. No radiation. I'm, like, a cancer loser. Leave it to me to go off and cure leukemia and develop a measly little skin cancer.

Although, I loved when someone told me that I had a very good excuse to shave my head now... I will be able to say things like, "Sure I look like I had cancer. Because I totally did!"

And I really love it when REAL cancer survivors tell me that I can totally brag about kicking cancer's ass.

Um, but I don't love it when you minimize it. I can minimize it. You don't get to. You get to tell me I kick ass. You do not get to say, "Oh, you mean it's a pre-cancer."

Because it's actually NOT a pre-cancer.

You do not get to speculate as to whether or not I'm freaking out about it.

Because I'm NOT.

You do not get to freak out about it. If you are going to spend any energy on my little ol' cancer, you can send some Light and Love my way. But that's it. I'm not gonna die, so you don't get to worry about that.

I appreciate so much the offers to come hold my hand while I get poked and cut, and maybe I'll decide to take you up on it. And maybe I'll just pull up the BGPs and just get it done on my own.

But in the meantime, know that I am GOOD.

I explained it to my son in a way that even has him joking about it (although, when he found out it was cancer, he apologized for saying "The one on your chest is gross, Mommy!" about the silver nitrate scar left there from the biopsy. My sweet little Bubba!)... We're good with this.

So, we are good.

Yes, I have a little cancer. And while it was tempting to text that guy from the last blog with, "Yeah, I was diagnosed with cancer today, so I'm not really interested in your crap right now..." I didn't.

And right now, I'm actually pretty damned grateful for this little ol' cancer of mine... Because it caused someone on the periphery to step up and bring me joy. And that's a good thing.

So, please. Keep your negativity and your minimizing to yourself. You may tell me I kick ass, that I've got this, that I rock. Keep the rest of it to yourself.

Thanks.

Oh, and while I have your attention, go get that mole checked out. And slather on some SPF 50.

And have a beautiful weekend.