I pushed the Pause button on everything this year, including this space. I’ve missed being here! This letter is an effort to reconnect with you and share how it’s been going on a personal front. I know I’m not alone in feeling hard and heavy things this year. I hope you’re doing really really well.
Here goes:
My friend of 20 years and life partner of 5+ years was diagnosed with an aggressive type of brain cancer in January of this year. They say it’s “life limiting”, which is just another way of saying it’s terminal. While the future is never certain, for us, it’s more certain than most can say.
It’s now September, which means it’s been 273 days of not finding the words to share this. I suppose the words wouldn’t have arrived until I physically sat down and typed them out, so here we are—words found.
It’s too easy to talk about what sucks, so I’ll start with what’s going well, and end with what’s different now.
Finding bright spots
First and foremost, B is relatively active and responding well to treatment. We’re all very grateful for that. A recent MRI even showed tumor reduction in some areas—rare but definitely positive news.
We both have wonderful family and friends who have come together for him and I and us in critical moments. We’ve had more meaningful connections and support than ever before.
Despite immense stress, I’ve managed to keep the lights on and most days there’s food on the table. I’m grateful for a supportive team at work and amazing coaching clients. In this period of chaos, I was advised to prioritize my kids, my job, and myself, and to avoid financial stress. Solid advice.
Thanks to our co-parents and grandparents pitching in with childcare, we’ve been able to maintain stability for our kids. I’m happy that they’re happy.
I’ve been expanding my self-care practices, which helps me stay both grounded and buoyant. Lately I’ve had more capacity to contribute through my work. It feels good to tap into this level of creativity when it’s available to me.
And I’m here writing! It’s my day off today, and I’m actually able to enjoy my favorite pastime: sitting at a café for an offensively long period of time.
Soooo, that’s been going well.
Adapting to changes
When I try to explain to someone how wild the journey has been so far, I often find myself saying, “Cancer is one thing; brain cancer is a whole other beast.”
Life used to be predictable. Now, unexpected curveballs are the new norm. I’m getting better at observing and adapting rather than trying to control everything. We’re learning to navigate a constantly changing game. Not unlike Jumanji.
I thought having kids would make me feel like an adult, but it didn’t. This, however, makes me feel like a real bonafide grown-up. My sense of duty, commitment, and responsibility is heightened.
I wouldn’t quite classify myself as a caregiver but as a second brain and an extra set of hands. B is no longer working or driving, and the household responsibilities need to be redistributed. Additional daily care and support for B has become a part of my life. The mental load is real, y’all.
The biggest difference is that our plans for the future kind of flew out the window. I suppose we’ve always been an unconventional couple. However we get through this, we’ll get through it together.
One matcha latté, a fancy grilled cheese, and a canned rosé later, the cafe is about to close now.
As for how all of this relates to the theme of this newsletter — the art of being in progress — I am definitely in process. I trust that the insights and beauty of it all will come in time, once I have more room to reflect, like today. It feels SO good to be back in my “studio”. You’ll be hearing from me, friends, hopefully very soon.
Sincerely,
Milan

