What music infuses your peace?

Alright dear community and friend, I am calling on you!

Can you share the songs that keep you going? I keep listening to three songs on repeat:

1. Stronger (Kesha and Sam Feldt), shared from my good friend, Leah, who is a powerful woman fighting her own cancer battle,

2. Hide and Seek (Imogen Heap), and

3. We Might as Well Dance (Madeleine Peyroux)

So, what songs make you feel peace, power, and alive? Feel free to share in the comments.

I feel like music makes the tight tendons of my body exhale, loosen, and be in the moment.

When I trained for the Rut, I asked my loved ones to share some of their favorite music. Then, if I was gutting it out on a mountain and feeling strong or weak, some song that, for example, my sister-in-law Tiaira shared would come on. If I was feeling strong, I felt joy and thought of Tiaira and the good energy surged. If I was feeling vulnerable, then I'd think of Tiaira and feel a source of strength to lean into. I don't normally listen to music when I run so I can be aware of my breath and all the aspects of the trail. But some free moments of aliveness or tender moments of insecurity are best met with music.

I don't think the above three songs will sustain me as a dip into the last half of chemo. This weariness makes me feel mentally raw. Going forward, I am prioritizing rest. Actually prioritizing it. I have known I am an anxious workaholic, but cancer is exposing this tendency even more.

I went into the office Wednesday afternoon. It was the first time seeing colleagues since my last chemo. I felt like I ran on heightened adrenaline for the four hours. After working past when I should or get paid, it's a ten or fifteen-minute drive home and it felt unsafe with how tired I was. I grabbed groceries right after work and could have napped in Albertson's aisles. When I got home, my throat was sore and red. I've been using the "magic mouthwash" for mouth sores without as much efficacy as the first two rounds. Wednesday night, my taste buds inflamed and became painful. I called in sick the next day, worrying that I had pushed too far, was getting sick, and if my white blood cells dropped more, I'd make my next treatments be delayed.

One thing I keep returning to is something my wise nurse friend and colleague, Ju, said when she asked how I was doing. I said how disorienting and wearying my fatigue was. I am not intellectually exerting my mind or using my body's strength to get to fatigue and yet my exhaustion permeates my entire being. It feels imbalanced--like the source of the fatigue is untraceable. Ju then said, "Healing takes energy. Healing is tiring."

I really needed to hear that. I have rarely honored the need to rest outside of the logic of athletic training. I am insecure with inactivity and, moreso, not being productive. I feel like since starting grad school in 2014, I have had insecure energy to produce, produce, and optimize to make up for the impacts of student debt and the recessions (and their impacts) of my generation. But this has been the pattern for eight years. Eight. Years.

"Healing takes energy. Healing is tiring." Those words made me realize I am not even building in intentional time to rest. I can't do cancer full time and work full time or 30-hour weeks.

So, going forward, I am going to cut back hours at work to a maximum of 30 hours so I can unequivocally rest for at least 10 hours. I can start my mornings slow, work when I feel well, and nap in the afternoons. And then when I am sick, I am sick. I have a massively supportive team at work. I just have massively unhealthy work tendencies I must undo.