You Can't Kill Heroes

2 years ago my dad was diagnosed with stage 4 renal cancer.

Did you hear me?

2 YEARS AGO.

2 years ago I was told to enjoy the holidays that upcoming December and to cherish every moment we had because this is a terminal disease.  I have seen my dad spend 2 more summers golfing, riding his motorcycle, and drinking beers with his friends.  I opened Christmas presents with him 2 times since, took him to see "A Christmas Carol", went with him to get my driver's license, and have shared a million laughs.  And he has stage 4 renal cancer.Of course now he has stage 4 renal cancer in his lungs, blood, spine, liver, brain and 1 remaining kidney.  But it's still a full 2 years later.  

Now, with my personal beliefs, those full 2 years later didn't fall upon us on through an act of god.  They came at a heavy price.  A price of weeks in the ICU for IL2 treatments, to weak-fatigued days and nights with chemo treatments, and to start 2013 with intense radiation treatment.  My dad has fought for every moment to beat this thing, even as it gained momentum over his body.

The past few weeks have been especially hard as all these little medical miracles have finally taken a severe toll on my dad's health.  He is still my dad in every witty, quick, and sarcastic response to the attention and support he is shown through so many friends and family.  But things have gotten a little bleak and as to be expected it's exhausting mentally and physically.  I'm experiencing my own response in ways I never imaged - beyond the sad and worried, but the heartbreaking feeling that someone you love with all of your heart is in pain.  And you just want that pain to go away.

2 Saturdays in a row I have watched the Chicago skyline zoom past me on the way to Northwestern Memorial Hospital.  Both times not knowing if I would leave that hospital with a dad.  I think there is a thing as to being over prepared, and I don't want to tarnish the moments we have together now thinking about what is going to happen when we aren't.  I have to just get up every day and have a dad, and love him and support him until I don't have a dad any more.  And that's a weird and confusing thing.

But here's what's amazing: after fighting like hell, and struggling to keep to his feet in this fight, he met with his oncology team today and started another round of chemo.  It's borderline insane behavior.  But I am humbled and in awe of the strength and will it takes to keep punching through it.  I have known so many men, and I can't think of a single one of them being so badass as to just jump into survival at any means they can find it.  It's brave, crazy, and in a world where he isn't my dad, crazy sexy.

2 years ago my dad was diagnosed with stage 4 renal cancer.  Yesterday night my dad called to tell me his new nurse was George O'Malley.  I am so lucky to have had every moment we weren't supposed to, and I am even luckier to have a dad that will fight for as many more as we can.

Fake Dating 101

When I am in a relationship there is nothing I enjoy more than being home with my man.  My favorite moments are spent cuddled on the couch, watching entire seasons of television shows in one sitting.  I like to cook chicken nuggets and french fries - share spoonfuls of ice cream out of the Ben and Jerry's container.  I don't need to be wined and dined to feel like I am the luckiest girl in the world that has everything.  I feel sexiest in an over-sized t-shirt and a pair of boy-short underwear.  I like dozing off on the couch with someone just as much as I love being completely distracted from the television when hands and mouths start wandering all over.  I like getting up to grab him another beer, I like watching him watch me walk away with no pants on.  Even if I am in torn up shirt with my hair a mess - I know you still love it. 

I don't want to admit that going out or "dating" by societal standards matters to me.  But it has been brought to my attention that maybe the reason I have so little interest in it, is because it is so seldom something I get to do.  A close friend had asked me a few weeks ago if he could take me out on a date.  Not with hopes of redefining our platonic relationship, but strictly for the sake of showing me what a date could be, should be, and how it could leave me feeling.  

I got to put on a fancy dress.  I got to do my hair, and my makeup, and even though he is a friend who knows me incredibly well, and I've spent more time with than most people, I even found myself getting butterflies just minutes before his arrival.  He showed up in nice jeans, a suit-coat, with roses in hand.  He commented on my appearance and with a hand on the small of my back led me out on a real date.  We didn't need to go on a carriage ride through the city, or have a paintball fight set to Semisonic's FNT.  We went to dinner and a movie.  We ordered a bottle of wine.  I ate a burger.  He touched my arm when it was appropriate and laughed at my jokes.  It was nice.  I felt like the prettiest, most adored girl in the room.  And there were other people in the room to draw that contrast against.

HSF has been in my life for like, 103 years now.  Would you even believe that in all the time I have known him, all of the countless hours we have spent together, only once have we ever gone outside of my house.  ONE TIME.  And it was for ONE DRINK at the closest bar within driving distance.  Jason was no better - we went out once a week, every Thursday to the local bar-trivia he attended anyways.  And quite frankly the entire evening was spent with him resenting me for knowing answers to questions or wearing a low cut shirt in public.  These weren't dates, I didn't get to dress up for them or feel like they wanted to show me off, or even what the very essence of what dating should be, which is trying to win over the attention and desire of the woman you want to love you back.

I'm not under the impression that men are solely responsible for maintaining romance, or for putting in the effort.  Lord knows more than anything I love doing little things for the men in my life as a reminder that they matter more to me than anyone else.  I recently purchased a Christmas present for a special guy in my life, and I can honestly say the satisfaction and joy of getting him that gift over-shadows even the greatest feelings from the greatest dates. But just because a girl is content with, more than content with - elated with, spending their days with you on the couch doesn't mean we don't need that reminder that we are worth wooing and fighting for.  And I think girls need to be reminded of that whether you've been dating 2 weeks, or married for 50 years.

I'm so quick to jump to that point in the relationship spent makeup-less and in pajamas, that I let guys off the hook for having to "real" date me right out the gate.  Who am I to expect, months later, them to have some desire to take me out or want to make me feel those things that get lost in Mad Men marathons and grilled cheese sandwiches. I guess I just wish that being that girl that would rather be low-maintenance and remove the pressure of romantic "dating" would more likely be the one that deserves to feel insanely loved and sometimes in the way of a $20 dinner for 2 at Chilis.  And I'm having a hard time convincing myself that that's too much to ask. 

Merry Christmas, Here's To Many More

Well, it's that time of year again folks.  Time for turkey, Christmas lights, long nights with friends and family, and crippling seasonal depression that makes me want to padlock the door and hide until it's all over.  I wish I could pinpoint what it is exactly about these cold months that make me so uneasy and anxious, but I suppose it's just a combination of everything.  From the financial stress of coming up with the perfect presents for the people in my life that deserve nothing less, to sitting around a dinner table with family trying not to feel like that 16 year old girl who fears she's incredibly misunderstood, or worse, ignored.

It doesn't help that for the past two holiday seasons I have found myself wondering if it will be my last spending them with my father.  And it increases the pressure I put on myself to not be the sullen, black sheep that shows up to most family functions. But fear alone doesn't change the self-doubt I have that the person pounding red wine at Christmas year after year isn't the person my family would want or hope for me to be.  Or the fact that when my siblings show up with their significant others, their new families, I still sit alone.

Ah yes, another holiday season sans boyfriend.  Another Christmas without someone to hold my hand through my typical anxiety, to share a midnight kiss with on New Years, to hold me close watching "It's a Wonderful Life" on Christmas eve, to put on a slutty Ms. Claus outfit for, and to be my plus one at the company holiday party.  I could name just as many summer-time activities that suck without a significant other, but the weather seems to make the winter ones that much more lonely.

So I'll put up my tree alone another year - a tradition that is both comforting and incredibly sad. I will turn on Reliant K's "Let It Snow, Baby...Let It Reindeer", because it's a beautiful Christmas album that has made me feel less alone each December every year since I was 18.  And I will continue to spend another year ending fighting the urge to shut down and close off from the amazing people in my life that battle me and struggle constantly to stay close to me.  The kind, selfless family of people I hold near and dear to me through 3 other seasons, that I become incredibly fearful of showing a broken Katie Keller to through the months of November through February. Because for what ever reason, chemically or psychologically, these aren't my best months.  And I know that.  So I can, as always, either hold myself accountable to the self-awareness I possess, or make the same mistakes over and over until these blogs can simply be copied and pasted from year to year.

So, with that said, Happy Holidays everybody.  I'm trying.

We've All Got Issues.

I have used my facebook, twitter, and other social media networks to express my political beliefs in the past few months.  But rarely do I speak my own words.  I more often than not quote a comedian, or even more hilariously the republican candidate.  I feel like with the election being just around the corner, I would like to take a minute to explain why I believe the things that I do.  This isn't open to debate, as this is strictly me stating why I will be voting the way I will in November.  I don't expect people to agree with everything I say, nor do I want to be dragged into a argument with anyone because I posted a blog on a Thursday evening.  If you are one of those people that can't hear someone's opinions without writing a rebuttal in your head before the words even fully enter your brain, do us both a favor and stop reading right now.

Ah. Isn't that better? That guy is such an idiot. 

I will be casting my vote for my president of the United States of America; the charismatic, handsome, intelligent, and bad-ass Barack Obama.  There are a few core issues that make me stand behind my POTUS, and those are the issues I care enough about to pay attention to government at all.  I can't sit here and pretend I know who is more qualified to handle foreign policy or even explain back to you what the proposed tax cuts or increases are.  I'm sure I would care more about those things if I owned anything - like a business, a house, or even a car.  Or perhaps if I was an active member of the US military.  Since I don't qualify for any of the previously mentioned circumstances - this is what I do know:

Gay rights.  How is this still even an issue?  I have only been on this earth 25 years, and it didn't take me all that long to figure out the greatest thing one person can ever have, be, or want is simply love.  I want everyone to be in love and to love.  I want my worst enemy to be loved so fucking hard they die from love.  If two, consensual, independent-minded individuals are in the love with each other, I don't care at all what gender they are, they have every right to, and should, broadcast it from the mountaintops.  They should be able to stand in front of a judge, or a priest, their families and friends, and hold a marriage certificate like anyone else.  Because if two people take a vow to spend the rest of their lives together, and love each other so much as to want to do so, that shouldn't be denied to anybody, ever.  Period.  End of discussion.

Women's rights. I have a vagina.  Though it's been questioned by those who have witnessed my abilities in the kitchen, or when picking out matching clothes, I am a lady, with delicate lady parts.  Government has always been a man's game, and that's fine.  Quite frankly, I wouldn't ever want the job.  But there should also be an acknowledgement to the fact that if you don't have ladybits, you shouldn't be the one deciding the appropriate maintenance and care for ladybits.  (Unless of course you are a man that studied vaginas, and became a vagina doctor - in which case, good for you guy.  Vaginas are gross).  I don't make a million dollars a year, I don't have unlimited funds to ensure I can keep myself safe and protected throughout these very transfomative and honestly scary sexual developmental years of my life.  I want to know that those choices will be determined by me, and the government will be supportive towards my effort to keeping my body healthy and safe.  Let's also consider the fact that if I didn't have the right to make choices for my life, and my body - I would have a 5 year kid right now who would be living paycheck to paycheck right along with me.  Who knows where I would be, or the person I would have become if I didn't have the ability to choose the life I want and to make the hardest decision I believe a person ever could for myself.  Which leads me to my next point...

Obamacare. My father is technically unemployed.  He is also battling stage 4 renal cancer.  If ever in my entire life have I seen a need for the government to step in and provide healthcare to those in need, its right now.  My father has worked his entire life.  He has provided to a family of 6, raised 4 pretty intelligent individuals while working 40 plus hours a week and being home for dinner every night.  The man runs into some bad luck when the economy took a turn for the worst.  He lost the house he spent his entire adult life paying for.  He lost his job.  And after providing for his family, his community, and giving back to his government in the same way every hard working American does, Mitt Romney wants to turn his back on a plan that would give my family the resources to fight this thing, He isn't a lazy man.  He didn't decide to get cancer one day, and then sit back and collect money from your tax paying dollars to be well again.  But god dammit, if there is a way we can give back to people, regardless of circumstance, to give every American a fighting chance at healthy lives - why wouldn't we? 

These are the issues that matter to me.  This is why when I go into the voting booth in just a few weeks, I have no doubt in my mind that I am making the right decision for myself, and I do truly believe, this country.  These issues are the ones I will always fight for, in the horrible case that they remain issues to fight for.  I stood up every day of my school years, placed my hand over my heart, and recited the words "with liberty and justice FOR ALL".  I believe in this country.  I believe in the people that fight for good in this country.  And I hope if these issues matter to you too, that you read up on what these two very different men stand behind and let your voice be heard on November 6th.

Trust Me, I'm Lying

I have been filled with anxiety this week.  I could list off all contributing factors, but it would require multiple blogs and I fear that if I don't occasionally reference my sex/dating life that you fine people will all stop reading.  So I will bypass that overwhelming list and skip to something that has been weighing hard on me the past few days.  I am in a relationship now.  It's going well.  I am falling, in that wonderful way you do when you start getting to know someone and let them get to know you.  I fall asleep with strong, warms arms around me more often than not these days.  I get to kiss someone on the regular.  Which is one of my favorite perks of all.  There are meals together, cuddling, and hours spent watching movies and television on the couch.  I have someone to talk to, someone to play with, and someone to get irrationally mad at when I am having a bad day.  It is a relationship, and it is all the great things that come along with it. 

The problem is that my history with men, and self awareness, set off red flags left and right that make me feel like I am going to make a bad decision.  Or fall too hard.  Or run away.  I don't trust the decisions I make with men, because every one that I have made in the last 10 years has been wrong.  That's obviously an exaggeration.  I have been in love and have been loved. And to be able to say that, in and of itself, shows that I did something right along the way.  But the outcomes of these relationships, or the people that the men I have been involved with have turned out to be, were far from the best choices I can make for me.  And after learning these lessons through so many relationships, I feel I have a responsibility to not let history repeat itself.  The simple fact that I don't want to fail again has me questioning my heart harder than I am letting it fall in love.

I don't want to run screaming at the first signs of trouble.  But when things aren't great it's also my responsibility to evaluate whether or not it's bad in a way that's normal or bad in a way that will land me in the same place I have so many times before.  Part of me thinks it's great that I am being cautious.  That this shows growth that I am trying to determine the outcomes of choices I am making before and as I am making them.  And the other part of me is terrified that me being terrified of being brokenhearted again is going to prevent a relationship that is and can make me happy for a very long time.

I just want to trust myself.  I want to not worry about whether I am thinking too much or too little.  There are so many qualities about myself that I believe in, and know to be true and good.  But anything related to my romantic or sexual relationships are not any of them.  A present moment evaluation of the relationship is to say that it's good; that I am happy.  That although I've been stressed for the past few weeks for a variety of reasons, at the end of the day I am happy that he is sitting on the couch in the other room playing video games.  My heart would be broken if he were anywhere else right now.  I get to sit in my room, listen to Del Amitri, and write this blog hashing out feelings about dealing with my own feelings.

This is the same shit I would be doing if I were alone, only I am not.  I have someone here that cares about me enough to be here when I needed him to be, and is comfortable enough to leave me be when I need to write a blog about my insecurities in our relationship and about life.  So I am going to trust myself for now.  Or at least try really hard to.

The Woman I Love

I went to go see Jason Mraz tonight.  Which was incredible.  I saw him 9 years ago in Decatur, IL.  My brother Sean even managed to pull off a smoke break and photo-op with Jason himself.  He was an up and coming singer/songwriter that was playing college campus' and hoping to catch a fan base along the way.  Almost a decade later I walked into the First Midwest Bank Amphitheater in Tinley Park today to a crowd of 10,000 people waiting in anticipation to see that same pimply-faced 20something I shared a Marlboro mild with so long ago. 

For his musicianship alone, it is a privilege to watch him perform.  Considering the 9 other musicians he shared the stage with, including an incredibly hot female percussionist, the show - top to bottom - was perfection. Besides being an amazing show, Jason Mraz has always been incredibly quick and witty, and may have a bit of a political agenda (but as long as it's on par with my own opinions - I wholeheartedly endorse it).  In between songs, specifically before he sang a song called "The Woman I Love" he made a few passing comments about females.  He said that women were amazing, but the biggest mistake women always make is forgetting how amazing we are.  And how, even though it may entail bitching, nagging, or irrational meltdowns; when we forget who we are, it's up to men to "man up" and remind us of the incredible women in us that they love.

Someone like me, who has had terrible relationships with men piled on top of deep-seeded self esteem issues, am very much an offender of what Mr. Mraz speaks of.  I am a woman.  And not in an annoying, feminist way; but that's pretty fucking incredible. But I feel, like a lot of other girls in this world, when I say that that is belittled on a far too regular basis.  Such is life.  Black people will always have it bad.  As will gay people.  As will Indians.  As will Nascar fans.  People will always discount you based off petty things that are not only not within your control, but things that have little or nothing to do with the actual character of a person.  But I digress. 

I am willing to look past being a woman, and look more closely at this "awesome" person Jason Mraz seems to think may exist in me.  And I'm sure it doesn't hurt that I am in a relationship now, so I have had validation outside of Jason and me, and actually in the form of another human being that doesn't mind his name being attached to mine for all social intents and purposes.  I'm Katie Mother Fucking Keller.  I'm not 21 any more.  I don't spend every night out doing outrageous things with no endgame and/or regard for the people around me.  I'm a little boring.  I like watching stand up comedy, listening to music, and reading books.  But I'm still pretty fabulous.

I can make people laugh in their saddest moments.  I can compliment and notice that thing about you, that isn't that new or special, but you are dying for someone to acknowledge.  I can look you in the eye, and without being able to promise that everything will be okay, will be able to promise you that I will be there.  And that no matter how bad it gets I will be in your corner.  I can sing you song lyrics for days.  I can dance and sing terribly when drunk enough at karaoke bar, and it will make you feel good.  I can take my own sadness, and genuinely try to turn that into happiness for someone else.  Jason Mraz was right, I am pretty fucking awesome, and my biggest mistake is not remembering it.

Maybe having someone who is sharing so much of my time with me will be a good mirror into some of my better qualities.  A reminder of the reasons that people, a specific person, wants to share their moments with me more than anyone else.  I am far from perfect.  And I pick apart every last emotional flaw I have, in this blog specifically.   But in the spirit of the good vibes, and free love that J Mraz was preaching at his show tonight, I'm going to go on record in saying that 2 years of blogs, 10 years of relationships, and 25 years of waking up everyday - Katie Keller is, in fact, awesome.

2 or More's a Crowd.

I have always prided myself on being a very independent person.  I moved out of my parents house for the first time when I was 18 years old.  And though 6 months of that was spent in college - the other 7.5 years of my life since has been a rather gypsy-like tour of the western suburbs by myself and my cat, Charlie.  We lived in crappy apartments, beautiful apartments I couldn't afford, a house with a bunch of 21 year old boys, a boyfriend's basement, a house with a husband and wife and two beautiful daughters, another house with some very straight-edged female nursing students, and now, a small 2 bedroom house that I actually call home.  Of all of those places previously mentioned, I don't consider any really a home to me.  They were places I lived, but never home.

When I first moved into this house, it was definitely not a home.  I shared the house with a wonderful roommate, and our collective 2 cats, and though the circumstances were far improved from my previous living arrangements, I was not comfortable in my own skin, let alone the roof over my head.  I went through the motions and packed up my bags when it was time to leave here, ready and willing to move on to the next gray place I can survive in until something more stable happened.  But a series of stressful, yet retrospectively wonderful, events occurred in which I couldn't leave this house.  And though I was terrified of what and when my next move would be (physically and emotionally), I felt like I finally had a second to catch my breath.

I've been in this house for 2 years.  I've been alone in it for just over 1.  And I can honestly say of the person I have become and of the things I have accomplished in that amount of time, the thing I am most proud of is this house.  It is the place I can run away to every night and turn off the world.  Nothing makes me happier than having the ability to come home after work, pour a glass of wine, and shamelessly dance around my living room singing into a remote controller.  I can literally disappear for days and not have to talk to a single person or deal with a single problem.  I also have a place friends can get away to.  The ones that have parents, or roommates, or significant others - this is there place to hide.  And if I extend that feeling of relaxation and comfort I absolutely will, to everyone I can, every time. 

My social-sphere has shifted over the last year, vastly.  I have a new best friend and we spend a shit ton of time together.  And I wouldn't change it for the world.  The best moments of the last 7 months have been with her.  She spends a lot of time at my place, and I wouldn't have it any other way. Then there is the other best friend who has been the only person I have consistently spent time with for close to 5 years now.  And we are used to seeing each other a good amount of time during the week.  It's my unwinding time.  We can sit on the couch and watch tv the same way I would if I wasn't drinking and dancing.  We talk sometimes, laugh a lot, and I wouldn't give up not one minute of those moments we spend together during the week.  Throw in a spattering of social events with the other close friends here and there, and the countless hours lost with HSF, and my place to hide is no longer.

So I have been evaluating what the appropriate balance is.  When do I say stop and take back the place I could draw the blinds and pretend things weren't hard and stressful and avoid dealing with reality?  Reality is sleeping in the guest room, or on the couch, or most recently in bed next to me.  I don't want to sacrifice the relationships I have created, and the memories I have been able to have by making this house my home.  And on the other end of that I don't want to stop having a fail-safe mode in which this home is the only place I can give my head and heart a break from everything.

I don't want to hide anymore.  I do want to continue to feel independent, and that this house that I have worked so hard to make my home remains as such.  But I know a lot of my frustration and overall overwhelmed feeling comes from that fear of being with people, being with someone, and not having countless hours to blame myself, hate myself or choose to feel nothing.  Being with people isn't bad.  Having a circle of family and friends that love you and want to spent time with you is nothing to be complaining about.  But I do need to schedule in a bit more "me time" for the sake of my sanity and for the only cardio I'm really getting from all that dancing around the living room (maybe with Jason Mraz, in my head, just a little).  I'm just having a little trouble finding my footing in feeling independent and not having that mean alone.