Grief, trailer hitches, and cow balloons

How to find humor in the worst of situations

Every December, I think of grief, trailer hitches, and sleeping in the oncology ward next to my husband with a cow balloon floating above me.

Matt and I, an hour before his lymph node dissection surgery.

I could have done without the nine-hour surgery time. Or the panic rising in my throat when the surgeon came out in scrubs and said my husband might have bladder cancer in addition to Stage I testicular cancer. (Thankfully it was a fluke.)

But I’ll always be grateful to our friend Curtis, who showed up to visit with two Mylar balloons in hand—the aforementioned cow and another one reading “It’s a boy!” Curtis was working as a radiology tech in Tacoma, WA at the time, so the nurse asked the weirdest thing he’s ever X-rayed. When he answered with a nonchalant, “Trailer hitch,” Matt laughed so hard he had to take an extra pain pill that night. (Humor, as it turns out, is not a good thing when you’ve just had your stomach split open.)

I don’t wish cancer and losing a parent in the span of six months on anyone. But I’ll always be grateful for the lessons it taught me that year. On finding the hilarity in situations, no matter how dire things seem. That when you’re confronted with your spouse’s mortality or whether you can conceive children naturally, it makes you rethink everything you’re doing with your life.

So whenever I get irritated about reprinting Christmas cards, or my daughter dropping her last nap (See Life section below), I remind myself there was a time Matt couldn’t sit up without assistance. Now the man is deadlifting 225 pounds and rocking 22% body fat 🏋🏻‍♂️ It’s a reminder that pain is temporary, and suffering is optional.

So take a moment to breathe in how far you’ve come from last year. Think about who you were then and what you’ve learned in this crazy journey we call life. I have a feeling it will be more gratifying than any Black Friday sale you shopped.

WRITE 👩🏻‍💻

Between my parents visiting, co-op preschool duties, and general feeling of malaise throughout most of November, I only finished two chapters, or about 6,500 words.

That said: Sometimes I start a scene or chapter ten different ways and text my best friend before I settle on the one that is right, meaning there are often double the word count of what ends up making it into a final draft. So it was worth paying the $50 for Savannah Gilbo’s masterclass on scene writing, because she reminded me that each scene needs:

1. An inciting incident

2. A turning point

3. A crisis

4. A climax

5. A resolution

In other words, it’s not enough for the overall story or book to have these five elements—each scene or chapter needs to take the main character through a mini-arc of transformation. Genius!

Hint: Even if you have no interest in writing a book, this format would work for business presentations and technical memos.

LIFE 🛟

My daughter is pretty much done with her afternoon nap, eliminating my daily 120-minute hour block of writing time—at least one that’s not interrupted by requests for TV and snacks, and yelling “It doesn’t work!” when the Youtube Kids app malfunctions.

I’m not willing to give up my morning yoga practice, struggle with getting out of bed before 6:30 am, would write all night if there weren’t negative consequences to my health and marriage, and some daycares cost more than my monthly mortgage payment. I’m getting around it with more playdates and working more weekends. But it’s still taking a major hit to my productivity.

BALANCE 🧘🏻‍♀️

As an Enneagram Type 1, I live and die by routine. This characteristic bodes well for creating habits and maintaining consistency. It’s absolutely terrible when a life event throws a kink in your goals (See above re: the loss of my daughter’s nap time) and you feel trapped. Sometimes I think this is why I got a degree in emergency management—I wanted to understand how to control the seemingly uncontrollable.

While I will likely never step foot into an operations center ever again, I learned one valuable lesson: Managing an emergency is less about doing and more about monitoring. Just because I’m not sitting at a desk cranking out words doesn’t mean I’m being a lazy bum. Sometimes I’m reading a book to find inspiration for a scene. Or thinking through a plot hole while watching my daughter at gymnastics class. I love what Adrienne Mischler has to say about this:

“[Being creative] is about the process, the agreement between all of yourselves to do something difficult, something of value.

CURRENTLY READING 📚

Weather Girl by Rachel Lynn Solomon. Best romance novel I’ve read all year. A compelling protagonist (and I don’t even like meteorology), a body-positive male love interest, and Seattle scenery that makes this rare breed of a Pacific Northwest native proud. I literally laughed out loud at her commentary on what Redmond, WA has become:

“More like paved paradise and put up a Five Guys. Not quite as catchy. And maybe gentrification is the scariest thing of all.

CURRENTLY STREAMING ⏯

Cecelia Castelman's debut EP. According to her bio, her influences are the Beatles, Brian Wilson (from the Beach Boys), Fleetwood Mac, J.J. Cale, and Bonnie Raitt. Did I mention she’s 21?! I try not to be that person who discovers artists before they blow up (That would be my husband, Mr. I Knew About Macklemore before “Thrift Shop”) but I suspect her future is bright.

CURRENTLY COOKING 👩🏻‍🍳

This Vietnamese chicken curry from I Am A Food Blog. This recipe is the closest I’ve found to my mom’s version. I used a mix of cut up boneless chicken thighs and breasts, used sliced onions instead of diced, and forgot the bay leaves (but will put them in next time). It’s a complete meal as is, but if you want to be traditional, serve with a baguette to soak up the sauce 😋

Wishing you and your family a very happy holiday,

Sophia :)

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P.S. New to The Write-Life Balance? Check out my essay on how rejection turned into this newsletter.