The RahRahRah

"What does a sister do when she finds out her baby sister has breast cancer?"

The most touching collection of words I have ever received on The RahRahRah came not from an admiring commenter, or even from a guest contributor. They came from an anonymous reader. One day, when I checked the visitor stats for this blog, I noticed that one reader from Somewhere Out There was directed to my website after doing a Google search with the following question: "What does a sister do when she finds out her baby sister has breast cancer?"

I don't think it's unusual at all to go online in search of comfort and advice, and my heart went out to this girl, or woman, sitting in front of her computer screen, hoping for the right words to jump out and put her soul at ease. The reader's search took her to my September 2009 article on Marty Lenore Pyhala, the breast-cancer afflicted younger sister of my dear friend, Erin Seitz. Marty was diagnosed with Stage 4 breast cancer shortly after turning 30, and I wrote an article about her situation at the request of Erin, who wanted to do what she could for her sister. 

Although the article stands as one of The RahRahRah's most meaningful posts, I felt a little dismayed that the anonymous reader was directed to that article because it really didn't offer much in the way of comfort, or advice. Rather, it was a somewhat indignant rant on the motherfucking bitch that is breast cancer. It was all I knew to say because truth is, I don't know what a sister does when she finds out her younger sister has breast cancer. And it really bothered me to think that that anonymous reader out there didn't find the answers she was hoping for.

So, I approached Erin and asked her if she wanted to write something about this for me, and for the anonymous reader. She said yes, and then other members of her family offered to write as well. In reading what they had to say, it became clear: You simply do what you can. That's not what you would like to do - no, that would be taking the cancer away - but it's all you can do...and you need to do something.

No, I don't know what you do when you find out that your younger sister has breast cancer. And I definitely don't know what you do when your younger sister - or daughter, or mother, or wife - dies from breast cancer. That is a question I wish I could answer now, more than ever. Last Friday, Marty passed away. 

I don't have the answers, but I can help other people have their say, and so I'm most honored to share with you the special thoughts of some of Marty's family members (written before her untimely passing). 

A sister is forever...

In Loving Memory of Marty Lenore Pyhala, January 10, 1977 - October 15, 2010

 

Happy Birthday

by Martha Merry (Mother)

Happy Birthday, Merry Christmas, Happy New Year, Happy Easter, Happy Halloween, Happy Arbor Day, Happy Children’s Day, Happy ….

The key word is happy.  When a child is born, mothers welcome them into their hearts and homes.  When holding an infant and the infant sees another person and starts to smile, the baby smiles with her whole body.  Marty was such a child.  Even as an infant she loved to see people and would smile totally.  Several times I thought Joy or Blythe would be better names for her.  I wanted her life to be a joyful one.

Now Marty is a young mother with stage 4 breast cancer.  The days are not so happy for her or for the rest of us.  When Marty found out she had cancer, it was devastating.  It took several days to actually know, which gave a little cushion—maybe it was and maybe it wasn’t.  A little warning like that was beneficial for me to adjust to the idea.  Once we actually knew, the question became: What is the next step?  Now the question is: What will happen next?  I am grateful for each day and especially for each good day.  In one fell swoop the hopes, dreams, and plans for home and family were annihilated.  Instead we go from event to event, chemo to chemo, test to test.

I am also grateful for a family that pulls together.  When Marty and her brothers and sisters were young, they fought and indulged in normal sibling rivalry.  Now they work together and try to help Marty get through this ordeal.  I am thankful for everyone’s care and concern.  There is strength in a family that cares for each other and works together.

When I was in college and considering the problem-solution pair, I decided that problems, important as they are, are not the most important part.  The solution is the most important part.  For this cancer problem we haven’t arrived at the solution we want—complete cure—so we all continue to put one foot in front of the other, hopefully travelling in the forward direction and working towards at least a remission.  Even if the future looks bleak and she is considered terminally ill, I will hope and pray for the best.  I am grateful for many people in the community who also are concerned for her.  Several times people have told me that they either know my daughter or know of her and their prayer group is praying for her.

When I was in 8^th grade I came across a car advertisement about turning lemons into lemonade.  Even then I thought that was a good idea and have tried to do that in the trials of my life.  This trial—having a daughter with cancer—is difficult to find the sweetener to make lemonade.  Obviously, the cancer itself will not become lemonade but brothers and sisters pulling together, my being able to pick her up from chemo occasionally, providing transportation for grandchildren to and from school, and many other little opportunities are sweet opportunities.

I will always love Marty and hope and pray for the best.

 

My Angel

by Gabby Merry (sister)

My sister Marty has breast cancer. My whole life I have looked up to her and wanted to be just like her. I idolized her strength, her wit, her intellect, and her ability to make everyone feel welcome. I remember getting so frustrated with her when I was younger because she always seemed to catch me doing something I shouldn’t and she would demand improvement. As much as I hated those moments when they came, I look back on them now with a deep appreciation and love for my wonderful older sister. I have always felt and still feel comfortable going to her with any questions or concerns I have and her advice, wither it’s what I want to hear it or not, is always helps. I honestly believe that in this life we receive angels to help us, some seen and some unseen, and I am confident that my sister Marty is one of my angels.

I found out that Marty had breast cancer while I was on a year and a half service mission in Ukraine. I had only been there for 3 weeks when I heard the news. The moment they told me that Marty had stage 4 breast cancer, I broke down in tears. I had never thought that my sister could get cancer. They told me she broke her hip because of it metastasizing into her skeletal system, and I completely lost it. The rest of that day I spent in my apartment sobbing, wishing I could be there with her and for her, and pleading with God that all of the good things that come from this service mission will go to Marty, asking Him to bless her with strength, health, and comfort. I remember telling Him that I didn’t need anything, I would be fine but to please bless Marty with the things she needs. I knew that coming home early from Ukraine wasn’t an option for me, so I decided to dedicate the rest of my time in Ukraine for Marty. I decided that Focusing on service and really throwing myself into the work I was to do there would bring extra blessings, after all, I had made a pact with God and there was no way I would half heartedly work at fulfilling my part. It was all I could do to help Marty.

In a way, I felt like I had abandoned my sister because I was half way across the world when she was diagnosed, all through her hip replacement and recovery, and even her radiation and hormone therapy. I would get weekly updates on how she was doing and her treatment plans which I would relay to everyone I knew because I had told all the people I work with and come in contact with about how my amazing sister has breast cancer and to please pray for her. So they all did, Marty without knowing it has touched the lives of so many people. Her perseverance and positive attitude throughout the whole time completely blew me away as well as everyone in Ukraine! Marty is inspiring and when I would tell people about her they seemed to have a new determination in their own lives. Marty’s example was an encouragement to people she had never even met. Even through stage 4 breast cancer she is still my role model and an inspiration to people around her (and half way across the world).

Since being back with my family and with Marty, sometimes I forget how much she has gone through, because she doesn’t act like her life is over or even close to it. She is constantly positive and firmly believes that she can conquer anything that life throws at her and I completely agree with her! Like I said, she is my role model and an inspiration to me in many ways. I can’t express how grateful I am to have her as my older sister. I appreciate her for who she is and I love her more than I can possibly say. I look up to her, and when I was younger I even tried to be her! Of course that didn’t work, and I’m sure I annoyed her countless times because of that, but in my defense, there was no one else I’d rather emulate.

It was hard over Christmas break watching Marty go through Chemo and taking care of her between treatments because that was the first time I ever really realized that there was something wrong. It was the first time I had experienced firsthand the effects that the treatments had on her and talking to the doctors at the end of the week scared me so much! Marty didn’t seem to be phased though, she just took the news and moved on. I’ll admit, I didn’t really know how to act around her anymore, I wanted to treat her like her normal self, but then I felt like I was being insensitive to her and I didn’t want her to think I didn’t care. When we went to Costa Rica for my sister Erin’s wedding it was the same type feeling again. I knew she was hurting and I wanted to help but I didn’t know what to do, or even if I could do anything! My first reaction was to just ignore it and treat her like normal, but I knew that probably wasn’t a good thing. This feeling of not knowing what to do, or how to act drives me crazy! There is nothing I want more than to have my sister know that I love her and I would do and want to do anything that would help her to feel healthy again but no matter what I do or say I can’t escape this feeling of helplessness. There is nothing I can physically do to help Marty to feel better, or to overcome this cancer. That is a hard thing to accept. I don’t think I’ve really accepted it yet. I don’t think I really even want to.

I didn’t realize how hard it would be to write this blog. I can’t seem to do it without crying to the point of giving myself headaches! This is something I don’t enjoy talking about. It’s something I would love to be able to ignore and let it just vanish.  But I realize that cancer isn’t just something that will go away. Its something that needs to be fought. Something I’ve learned is that everyone has their own way of fighting. Everyone has their own ways of being brave and their own sources of strength. I am so grateful for prayer because I feel like that is my source of strength and comfort. Especially when I feel exceptionally useless I rely on prayer to plead with God to help Marty and my hope is renewed.

However, I know no amount of prayer can replace heartfelt love and gratitude for someone. So Marty, I want you to know that even though I haven’t always said it, I love you. If there is any way I could take this away I would do it in a heartbeat. I’m sorry I haven’t been there for you the way you’ve always been there for me. I really wish there was something more I could do to make life easier on you because of all the people I know, you deserve it most. I always have looked up to you, and I always will look up to you. You’ve influenced my life more than you can possibly know and I thank God every day that he gave me you as my older sister.

 

The Older Brother

by Rob Seitz (brother)

When I first learned of my sister Marty's cancer, my initial emotion was one of guilt.  Being the oldest, as well as the one with the most unhealthy lifestyle; I had always assumed that I would be the first to be diagnosed with a debilitating illness.  It was almost as if I felt, whichever deity is in charge of passing out debilitating illnesses, had somehow missed me, hitting my little sister instead.  However  nonsensical that may sound it was a tremendous source of guilt.  What kind of older brother let's his little sister take his cancer.  Or maybe if I would have lived a healthier life, she wouldn't have gotten it in the first place.

I would like to be angry, because anger is what I do best, but I don't know who to be angry with.  Maybe the oil refineries in the area that my sister lives, but that doesn't satisfy my need.  I want one, or two individuals that I could beat up, and have them take the cancer back.  That is a big brothers job, right?  So, I guess helplessness is what I mostly feel.  I can give support, but I live so far away I am not a part of her daily life.  

The good that has come out of this, for me, is seeing the strength that she has exhibited throughout this ordeal.  My little daily struggles pale in comparison.  If she can remain so steadfast, and determined in her desire to prevail over cancer, I should be able to deal with flat tires, and dirty dishes without whining.

 

My Sister Has Cancer

by Erin L. Seitz (older sister)

My sister has cancer.  My younger sister has cancer.  My younger sister has breast cancer.  My younger sister has stage four, metastatic, breast cancer.  No matter how many descriptive words I use, it all comes down to the same thing.  My sister has cancer and I cannot do anything about it.  I can’t push it into a mud puddle or trip it as it is running down the hall or run to my mom to tell on it.  I can’t even punch it in the face for being a little bitch.  I can’t give her a piece of my liver or an extra kidney or bone marrow.  I can’t take her pain away.  I can’t even promise her it will all work out in the end.  It might…It might not.  I can’t tell her this is all happening for a reason and it will all be made clear to her at some unforeseen time.

As her older sister, all of these “cannots” are the hardest part.  I am suppose to be able to fix it, beat it up and protect her.  As the older sister I’m the only one with the god given right to pick on her and torment her.  Not this….cancer.  How dare it make me helpless.  How dare it make her an anomaly.  She is too young.  Why is she the 1 in 2500?  Why not me?  I’ve lived a “harder” life.  I smoked for a long time, I dabbled in drugs (sorry Mom), I drink more frequently, live in a larger city and am older.  Why not me?

This is what I have been thinking about since February 22, 2008, the day she called me.  The day she found out she has cancer.  Which led to finding out it wasn’t just cancer – it was stage four.  Metastatic.  It had spread.  In the same moment she found out she had it, she found out she had had it for YEARS.  And no one ever said: “Hey, go get a mammogram.  Your breast is lumpy.”  When she was complaining to me about her back and hip hurting I never once suggested she should go to the doctor.  As her older sister I should have been able to tell something was wrong.  Right?  Isn’t that protecting her?  Isn’t that what family does?  Shouldn’t I have used my “woman’s intuition”?  My bond as a sister?  This is what has been on my mind the last two years.  These are the things I keep thinking about, over and over.  The feeling of helplessness and everything I can’t do to change this for her.  Everything I cannot do.  Over and over and over.

Compared to that, the list of things I can do is very short.  I can be the best older sister I can possibly be.  If she needs me, I am there.  The second she says “move” I am back home with her, my husband in tow.  I can be the world’s best listener.  I can listen for hours if needed.  I can be her escape.  Anytime she needs to get away from life she has an out.  No chemo, no stress, no responsibility. Only maximum sister time, sightseeing and great food. 

And I can walk. And fundraise for research so one day our sisters, mothers, daughters wives, nieces, cousins friends and lovers don’t need to go through this.

Those are the things I CAN do.  I can’t take away her pain.  I can’t turn back time.  I can’t remove the cancer.  I can’t promise her a happy ending.  I can be her sister and listen to anything she needs to talk about.  I can help her forget for short periods of time.  And I can do my part to help all of our future generations.  That is what I can do.

 

Guest Submissions - Leaping

The RahRahRah features guest writers who have taken the time to share their own stories about jumping into the unknown to follow a dream - in other words, Leaping. These writers are:

 

Zoey Charles of Brooklyn, NY.

Young Hee Kim of Washington, D.C.

Melissa Parrish of Boston, Massachusetts.

Erin Seitz of Brooklyn, NY.

 

Find out what they have to say by going to "Guest Submissions" on the right hand column and clicking on "Leaping."

Or just click here to jump.  Good luck!

 

Leaping

Okay, before you roll your eyes and say, "Here she goes again, talking about following your dreams and finding your bliss...when are we going to go back to visible panty lines?"  - DON'T WORRY. I'm not going to talk about any such thing today. Leaping - or jumping into the unknown, taking risks, chasing your dreams, whatever you want to call it - is a theme that is near and dear to my heart, but I recognize that there's only so much one person can say about this topic. And anyway, I wouldn't mind talking about other things once in a while, like Bathroom Stagefright, Phone Sex, and Infidelity (all topics that readers like you - yes, you - have submitted).

So this week, I turn the reins over to four other individuals who have taken the leap...and who lived to tell the tale. 

Beginning tomorrow, The RahRahRah publishes its second round of Guest Submissions, a new one each day this week. Their topic: Leaping.

For those of you who have leapt, those who want to, or those of you who just aren't sure you can, I invite you to read four stories of people betting on themselves. Zero buy-in, just for you.

See you back here tomorrow.

"Twenty things I learned in my 20s"

 

Nothing good happens after midnight - go home.

                                                                        If you don't have a place to stay, call up a friend and ask; you'll be surprised how many friends you have in different places, and how many great friendships are waiting to be explored.

It would also behoove you to explore different places; travel is but a plane ticket away, and always worth the cost, I find.

                  Avoid overusing your credit card.

                                                             Shopping is a lot more fun with a friend.

Fun is the stuff of life, and should be the common denominator in everything you do.

Do everything you can dream of - our only obligation in this life is to follow our passions.

                            Sex can be all of these things: passionate, fun, emotional, meaningless, angry, intimate and funny.

                A man who can make me laugh is the sexiest man of all.

                                                                                Boys are not always dumb...but sometimes require a great deal of teaching.

                                                            Cultivating your mind is one of the most important endeavors you can devote yourself to, for a beautiful mind always outlasts a beautiful face.

    After spending 30 years looking at yourself in the mirror, you are familiar with all of your faults...and you learn to accept them.

                                                        Never turn down a free meal.

Thinly slice three cloves of garlic and saute them in a few tablespoons of olive oil until they start turning golden brown; then pour this garlic olive oil mix over freshly cooked pasta and serve with salt, black pepper and some cheese -YUM!

           If you eat too much garlic, the smell eventually comes out of your pores.

                                                                               Save your skin - always use SPF.

Sunny days are great, but rainy days are brilliant, too - learn to love and live with both.

                Love is all there is, all that matters, and in all that we do.

                            No matter what you do, love yourself.

You are most important.

 

 Thank you to Melissa Parrish of Boston, Massachusetts for this topic.

"Travel Adventures"

Let's never mind the last two months of silence and instead focus on the topic at hand, shall we? Travel Adventures - It seems appropriate to revive this topic, seeing as how I've just returned from a 12-day trip to Greece. Yay, me! The occasion?: I just turned 30. True story.

For a long time, I kept thinking of my life as "Before Greece" and "After Greece." At first, this was purely a temporal thing. The trip to Greece (a girls-only trip for me and my friends turning 30) was planned months and months ago, sometime in February of this year, and on some level, even though I bought the ticket myself, I didn't actually believe I was going to go to Greece. I mean, I had always dreamed of visiting the country and seeing the Parthenon and partying on Mykonos (come on, we all grew up watching Wild on E!), but it seemed too fantastic to think that this dream was actually going to become a reality. In order for this to happen, it felt like there had to be a suspension of real life, of time, and so in filling out my planner for the rest of the year, a lot of things were mentally categorized as "Before" or "After" Greece. Ironically, this has ended up being more appropriate than I first thought.

I recently did a count and I came up with a staggering number: In the last two years, I've travelled to at least 15 different cities, and that doesn't include day or short weekend trips to places I have already seen before. It all began in November of 2008, when I traveled to Sydney, Australia. That trip was followed by another trip to Sydney (this time for four months), during which time I also visited Australian hotspots like Melbourne, Darwin and the Sunshine Coast. I also went to Bali. Then I returned home to NYC and the Golden Age of Travel began: I went to Jamaica. I went to Costa Rica. I went to Las Vegas. I finally made it to Anaheim and Disneyland (although I didn't get to ride the rides). I traveled to Vermont to go snowboarding for the first time. I went to a wedding in New Orleans (and fell in love with the city). I attended the Kentucky Derby in Louisville. Then came a plantation in Virginia, Vancouver and, finally, Greece.

I took all of these trips for various reasons, but most of them happened because I had promised myself to travel someplace new every month in 2010 to visit a friend I don't see very often. That's a long story for another day, but it was an interesting experience in "finding friends anywhere" and it fed my burning wanderlust and sudden desire to do new things. However, I don't think it was any coincidence that this breakneck traveling schedule came during a time when I was taking major restock of my personal life. Suffice it to say that the beginning of this year was a very sad time for me. I had finally gotten a hold of my career, only to see my personal life go to shit. But of course, back then I didn't see the connection between the travels and the personal dissatisfaction - I was simply excited to get away.

Then, an interesting thing happened while having lunch with a friend. I was telling him all about my travels and the exciting destinations I had lined up. This friend, prone to intense introspection, eventually says to me: "Well, at some point you have to ask yourself: What is it that you are looking for?"

My first impulse was to laugh in his face because ummmm Hello! - I wasn't looking for anything, I just wanted to travel. But all I could do was sit across from him and stare at him. His words rang true to me, I knew it in an instant. It was one of those rare times where I saw myself clearly, as in a mirror. I was indeed searching for something...but I had only just realized this in the middle of the hunt, waking up to find myself holding a gun and unsure what exactly I was aiming for. It was very disconcerting.

I kept traveling and the question stayed with me, my friend's voice constantly ringing through my head. I enjoyed each new city I went to, but my trips started to feel a little empty. I once caught myself saying, "What's so fun about traveling if you have nothing to come home to?" Then, one night, an old high school friend randomly started a Facebook chat with me and we caught up on how life is these days. She told me about her family, her home and how happy she is. I told her about my travels, to which she expressed her jealousy. I laughed, more like a scoff at myself. I told her, "Well, at some point I have to ask myself what is it that I'm looking for, right? And I'm beginning to suspect that I'm looking for exactly what you have. So I'm the one that's jealous."

Through my travels, I had come to realize that I wanted to find happiness and excitement at home, right where I lived rather than someplace new and strange. I wanted to have something to look forward to coming home to. I wanted to be happy in my everyday life, and not feel like I had to travel because it was the only thing that offered me excitement. I wanted my life to be enough.

I began committing a great deal of energy to trying to change my perspectives on life, myself and my relationships, recognizing that change had to come from me, not from a plane ticket. I also made an effort to understand what it was that I wanted in my life, and I decided to make these very clear to myself and stand my ground until I found them.

Not to be pat, but miraculously, once I started to do this, everything fell into place, and I began feeling like myself again: Happy, confident and capable of great things. Travel became fun again and I accepted an invitation to go to the Kentucky Derby in May with a guy who I knew was interested in me, but who I was not that interested in. I had pretty much blown him off for the previous six months, but who turns down an invitation to the Derby? Well, you can imagine my surprise when I go to Louisville and totally fall for the guy, recognizing that the dude under the collared shirt was cooler, funnier and a lot nicer than I first gave him credit for. Of course, he hadn't changed - I had. He's the best thing that's happened to me all year.

On top of this, my career starting taking off...literally! On a plane! I began traveling for work, a dream come true. Talk about full circle.

So it was in the midst of all this happy-groovy-feel-good-time at home that I off and go to Greece to turn 30. It was amazing, of course. My girlfriends and I saw it all: Athens, the Acropolis, Mykonos, Santorini and more Ionic columns than I ever care to see again. We posted pictures on Facebook everyday and everyone back home drooled over the crystal clear waters and our daily huge bottles of Mythos beer.

And yet...I couldn't wait to just go home. Greece was fabulous, but I had a life back home that made me feel happier than any trip could ever make me feel. One morning, I stood at our villa window, looking out onto the Aegean sea, and I realized that I was no longer searching for anything...that in fact I didn't want to travel anymore. Everything I wanted was back at home, just like they told me it'd be.

And so begins my life After Greece. I think it's going to be the best adventure yet.

 

Thank you to Carmen Hopper of Brooklyn, NY for this topic.

 

"What happened to The RahRahRah?"

It's been about seven weeks since my last post, and during that time I've fielded numerous questions about where my blog has disappeared to. Notwithstanding the fact that I'm incredibly flattered to have readers out there who expectantly await my posts, I know that I've neglected my responsibilities. I'm sorry.

I can offer you three very good excuses, which I like to think of more as "explanations."

1) I've gotten very busy with my other work, namely shoe modeling, which is another topic altogether.

2) I've started spending a lot of time with a new Someone Special, which is yet another topic to visit in the future, provided we make it there.

3) My loyal computer recently succumbed to the flashing Gray Folder of Death. I write to you on the sly at work.

These are pretty good explanations for what happened to The RahRahRah, I think. Explanation #3 aside, the other two reasons suggest the only excuse I have for my delinquency: I simply had no time to write.

Which brings me to the real topic of the day: Priorities.

I recently had a family member text me to tell me that I am clearly "too busy"...too busy for people is what she seemed to be suggesting. This really bothered me. Of course I think she is wrong, because I know I do the best that I can to make time for others, and I am certainly always there when someone needs me. But I also see her point - I let too many phone calls, too many emails, too many opportunities to visit pass me by, mainly because of other priorities.

Maybe this is just my own poor time management skills, and I'm feeling down enough on myself today to own up to that, if that's the case. Mostly, though, I have had to make conscious decisions to put one thing over another, because truth is, there is not enough time in the day to accomplish everything I seek to do or that other people expect of me. Truthfully, if I were to attempt to tackle EVERYTHING that I have looming ahead of me, including making time for people who are very important to me, the reality is that I would never be able to dedicate myself completely to any one thing, and I would probably see you once every three months. 

It could be that I simply have too many things on my plate, which is my problem alone, I know. Unlike many, I don't have a simple, single career; my life is made up of a variety of endeavors that I want to pursue. I get great joy out of this. Yet, all of these things take an enormous amount of time each, and they all take turns in the spotlight. At the same time, my relationships with other people are also very important to me, and I value the opportunity to cultivate something meaningful with another person. This also takes time and commitment that cannot be dedicated elsewhere.

So it needs must be that some things take a backseat...and yes, even some people. That's a hard truth to admit, and it makes me feel bad to say that. It means that some of areas of my work get neglected. It means that sometimes, I'm not always there when you'd like me to be. Trust me, no one is more frustrated about that than I am. Do I give up some of my priorities, or do I stretch myself thin? Or do I just keep on trucking, doing the best that I can with juggling everything most dear to me? I thought that was what I was doing to begin with... Maybe one day I'll get it right.

I'm in a bad mood today, so maybe I shouldn't be writing posts like this because I don't want to come off sounding exasperated that I haven't kept up with this blog (although I am, with myself...not with you for asking where it's been). I've missed writing for you. And I truly appreciate that you have missed my writing. What an honor! I promise you it won't take another seven weeks for my next rant.

You've the patience of an angel - THANK YOU!

Thank you to CeCe Bloom of Brooklyn, NY for this topic.

"You are most important"

Here's a story for you:

It was St. Patrick's Day 2009, and somehow Helena and I had completely forgotten the fact. She was visiting me in Australia, where I had moved for four months to be with a boy. That had ended badly within just two weeks of my arrival and although Helena's trip had been planned long in advance, her visit with me couldn't have come at a better time. Helena and I had spent a few days in Sydney together before heading down to Melbourne, where we gorged ourselves on the city's fantastic food. On our second day there, we decided to walk off some calories by windowshopping along Chapel Street, but after a couple of hours of doing that, we felt simply parched. So, we took a break from our exercise to have some beers around mid-day in a quiet bar...which of course made us hungry again, so off we went on the search for souvlaki.

We hadn't gone even two blocks back up Chapel Street before we stopped in our tracks, dumbfounded at the sight before us. Seemingly out of nowhere had erupted a massive Irish pub named Bridie O'Reilly's, its balconies and courtyard filled to the brim with noisy, drunken green people. 

"Oh yeah," said Helena, as we stared at the spectacle from the sidewalk. "It's St. Patrick's Day."

It was a beautiful sight. It reminded Helena and me of the huge St. Patrick's Day parties we threw when we lived together in Hoboken, parties that always ended up with 50 strangers in our living room, a Journey dance party and both of us passing out before 9pm. Clearly, we couldn't let this day pass without some respect so we instantly traded in our souvlakis for wifebeaters and headed into the bar. 

About an hour into our revelry, a man approached us, solo, and started a conversation. His name was Andrew and we couldn't figure out why he was talking to us. He was married, so we knew he wasn't trying to hit on us (assumedly), and conversation wasn't exactly easy. Yet, he persisted, and after a few drinks, I suppose it didn't matter what we were talking about anymore. 

Eventually, he asked us why two American girls were in an Irish pub in the middle of Melbourne. Helena told him she was visiting me so I had to tell him that I was there because I had moved for a boy. Beer makes me babble so I ended up telling him the whole story, and how I was really unsure about what I was supposed to do next: The boy was trying to make up with me, and I wanted to stay in Australia, but I just wasn't sure. I just didn't know what to do.

Andrew looked me in the eye and said, "Anna, you are most important. No matter what you do, remember that." I nodded and looked at him very seriously, "I know." 

"No really," he said, "You are most important." And he repeated it a few more times. 

It was all very Good Will Hunting-like, like in that scene near the end when Robin Williams is telling Matt Damon, "It's not your fault," and Matt finally has a breakthrough. Well, I didn't break down, grab the man in a bear hug and cry or anything, but I do remember thinking, in my drunken haze, "This is weird...but it's important."

Andrew left the party shortly thereafter and now we fast forward to three months later, near the end of my trip in Australia. I was with my dear friend Simone at her parent's house in the Sunshine Coast. Her parents are simply the greatest, welcoming me into their home as if I was their daughter. They were kind, funny, generous, and wonderful to talk to and they asked all sorts of questions to follow up on the stories that Simone had told them about me and our friendship. Of course I had to fill them in on the boy and that debacle, and one night, over fruit and champagne, Simone's father looks at me and says, "Just remember, Anna: You are most important."

Whoa. WHOA. This was the Twilight Zone. My mind immediately went back to Andrew in the Irish Pub and I thought that it was so odd to hear this phrase being said to me again, advice I had never heard exactly phrased like that in my whole life EVER...and yet here it was again within the last three months.

Now, I have always believed that we receive the guidance, advice, and comfort we need right when we need it most, so long as we are open to it. I also believe that these gifts come to us in many forms, sometimes through people who are complete strangers to us. When this happens, I like to think that these people were sent by my guardian angels with a message I need to hear...or perhaps they even ARE my guardian angels, making a brief appearance in my life as humans in order to help me. Perhaps that was Andrew.

It's up to you whether you believe stuff like that or not, but there is such a thing as synchronicity. Synchronicity is "the experience of two or more events that are apparently causally unrelated occuring together in a meaningful manner. To count as synchronicity, the events should be unlikely to occur together by chance." Some people believe that synchronicity occurs in order to reinforce a lesson we should be learning.

So, here was a case where I heard the exact same piece of advice from two people who were complete strangers to each other (first of all), and secondly, really didn't need to be giving me advice anyway. I couldn't help but think that this was bizarro, significant and something I was supposed to be hearing.

Truth is, it was a lesson I needed to learn, but it took me a few more months to realize it. I was always the girl who was quick to put everything and everyone before herself, and on more than one occasion I considered the needs, thoughts and feelings of others as more important than my own. I used to think that this was selfless, and generous, and a good indicator of how good of a person I was. I believed it would make people like me more. But the truth was, doing this is what got me into the mess I was in with the boy in Australia in the first place. And it got me into several more messes in the months that followed, after I returned to New York City. At the worst of it near the end of 2009, I found myself heartbroken, alienated from my best friend and bitter with the whole world. 

I think people are hesitant to say, "I am important" because it comes off sounding arrogant and selfish. I know I was afraid of that. But I've learned the hard way that it's not about saying that you are more important or more special than other people, or that you can't love others wholeheartedly and unselfishly. It's about saying that you are most important to you, that no matter what happens, no matter what other people say or want, no matter what hardship arises, you will stand by you - your values, your needs, your feelings - because you are a person of value, because you are just as important as the next person. 

By saying, "I am most important," you stay in touch with who you are...and this allows other people to see, know and value the real you. If you don't make yourself the most important person to you, then you will never be the most important person to anyone or anything. I'd go so far as to say that making yourself most important to you benefits EVERYONE, because then we can all finally get real with ourselves and each other, learning to love each other for who we really are and sparing ourselves the petty games we play when we're trying to gain the upper hand with others. If you are most important to you, you never need the upperhand...you've already got it.

I know you've all heard this before, and I don't want to preach. But I'll end with saying that as simple as this sounds, it is sometimes the hardest lesson to learn about yourself: That you really do matter. 

But you do. 

Yes, you.

You are most important.

Thank you to Young Hee Kim of Washington, DC for this topic.

What's your story?

A few posts back, I talked about "jumping into the unknown," or as my friend Chris put it, "giving up work and career and focusing on something that means a lot more, like a passion and stuff."

The feedback to this post was tremendous. Not only did I receive emails and comments about the post, I also found myself engaged in random conversations with people who admitted that this was something they have always wanted to do...but didn't know how.

One person told me that she really appreciated the post, but would have loved to have heard more stories from other people about taking the risk to follow a dream.

That got me thinking...and so, the topic for the second round of guest submissions for The RahRahRah is:

LEAPING

Have you made the jump, or want to make the jump, to pursue a dream?

Any thoughts or experiences that you'd like to share about this topic, send it on over. After all, it is only by sharing our stories that we help each other get through this crazy thing called life (that one's for you, Zeb).

Submissions due by Sunday May 16, 11:59pm.

Email files to TheRahRahRah@gmail.com

And keep dreaming!

"Reminiscing"

When I was a little girl, I came across a very strange book in my elementary school library. This could well have been the most interesting book I'll ever read, but I can't recall the title of it and no amount of clever Google-searching has helped me locate it since. It was a book about a wacky doctor's reading room, and as far as I could tell, it was factual. The doctor had a collection of curious objects that showcased his bizarre discoveries over the years. One such object was a display of the human brain, and this display talked about memories.

This book, as far as I can accurately remember (I was only 8 when I read it), put forth a theory that we only ever remember about 10% of our memories, and even then probably fairly inaccurately. There were high-tech diagrams and charts explaining all of this, but the gist of it was that if our memories were gathered into something roughly shaped like a 3D cone, and we drew a plane through that cone on a diagonal slope, we are only ever conscious of the memories that end up on the surface (2D level) of that plane, leaving everything above and below the line gone forever. Yeah, I know - this was a very unusual book for an 8-year-old to be reading.

I remember being a little frightened of this theory because if it was true, it meant that most of our memories are lost...which meant that most of our LIVES are lost. Thus began my life-long dedication to journal writing - I figured that if I wrote everything down, I would never forget any of my memories, any of my life. I never expected to one day go back and read my journals and have absolutely no idea what I was talking about. I mean, who on earth was the guy I had a crush on in 9th grade...so closely did I keep that secret that I didn't even write his name down in my journal?! I guess I'll never know, and this boggles my mind because it HAPPENED and yet, I have no recollection.

If the experiences we have in life shape who we are, and the only things we have of those experiences after they've passed are memories, then what does it mean when you forget those memories? Does it change who we think we are? And what if we remember things differently from how it happened? And what do you do about the idea that forgetting something kind of makes it like it never happened? Not to get all metaphysical on you, but how can we really be sure that what happened...was real?

Basically, what we're talking about here is that memories only exist in our heads and we are constantly in danger of losing them and ourselves. Lawdy. Thankfully, though, our memories often involve the people around us, and we always have them to help us remember...to reminisce. 

I confess that I indulge in reminiscing a lot...like, a lot a lot. My family, friends and I like to do nothing better than to laugh and laugh about the past, even the stuff that once was upsetting. In fact, I share a great memory with the guy who submitted this topic, Ryan. I'll spare you the details because I'm pretty sure he wants to run for public office one day, but let's just say it ended with a trip to the emergency room. I don't know about Ryan, but every time we talk about that day, I always remember just how fond of him I am (although I was furious with him at the time), and it makes me happy to know that it's a memory we'll always share.

That's the great thing about reminiscing - it helps you solidify the bonds you have with other people, which are so important, and you go home with that remarkable mushygushy feeling you get when you know that yes, your life happened...and it mattered to someone else, too. 

Of course, reminiscing can involve sad memories, memories of pain, regret and anger. However, when you can share these memories with another person (whether with the persons they involved or with friends who understand), reminiscing helps to cope with hard feelings and to make sense of things that seemed so chaotic at the time. 

And then there's the reminiscing you do on your own. I do this a lot, too. I try not to live in the past, but I do have memories that I would go back and relive in a heartbeat if given the chance: late-night piggy back rides, singing in the car, sitting in the rain. These memories put a smile on my face, but they also make me feel a little sad. I reminisce about these things alone because the people they involved have passed out of my life, for one reason or another. I know there is never any going back, but at least when you reminisce with others, you can sort of recapture, together, what once was. For these memories, though, I have no one to relive them with, no one to tell me if I'm remembering things right, no one to enlighten me with their perspective of what happened, no one to tell me that I haven't been forgotten, no one to assure me that whatever happened...happened. So forgive me if I cling to those memories - they're far too precious to ever lose and it's all on me to keep them. 

I wish I could find the book I read when I was 8 because I'd really like to know if I'm remembering the doctor's theory correctly. Probably not. But if I did get it right, the theory doesn't frighten me anymore. I know that the 10% of memories I am carrying around with me are awesome, so maybe I don't really need the other 90%. And maybe one day you and I will share a cup of Nostalgia, the plane will shift and all the old memories will come flooding back. Hopefully, though, we'll just make new memories. I'll drink to that.  

Thank you to Ryan King of Houston, Texas, for this topic.

**And now for the Grand Finale. CLICK HERE

"Procrastination"

According to my sources, there is actual criteria for categorizing a behavior as procrastination: The act must be counterproductive, needless and delaying. This confuses me, though, because if that's the case, how is it possible that I'm sometimes my MOST productive precisely when I am procrastinating?

There are certain things that I would never accomplish if not for procrastination on another project. I know for a fact that my home would never get cleaned, for instance. I doubt I'd ever get back to anyone's emails. I'd certainly never get the chance to re-couple the shoes in my shoe closet and Lord only knows when I'd find the time to test all the pens in my pen jar to make sure they have ink. These things are important, too, dammit. If not now...or now...or then...then when?

When I really get to thinking about it, I dare say that procrastinating actually transforms me into a paragon of productivity. You need something done? Give me something else to do first. I'll eventually get around to the major project at hand because the way I see it, some other task is bound to come up that will make the first project I put off seem much more appealing to do, at which point I will tackle it with gusto, accomplishing that plus everything else on my To-Do list. Or, you can always give me a deadline with three weeks notice. I'll spend the first 20 days taking care of all the business I haven't gotten around to for the last 3 months, and then on the 21st day, I'll give everything I've got to completing your project on time. Do you know what kind of masterpiece I can create with such concentrated effort? Trust me, it's better this way.

I think the experts are wrong. I can't find anything wrong with procrastination. In fact, I have to seriously question what kind of life I would lead if it wasn't for procrastination. Not to make it sound like I'm the busiest woman in the world, but I'm one of the busiest women in the world. I could seriously work on something every single minute of the day. If I didn't push something off for a little while (or a few days...or forever), my quality of life would go down the drain. When would I see my friends? When would I catch up on LOST? When would I work on reaching Level 7 of Wizard Staff? I like to think of "procrastinating" as "maintaining a healthy work/life balance." A girl's gotta have her priorities, after all.

Now, isn't it time you got back to work?

Thank you to Stacy Wu of Brooklyn, NY, for this topic.