First round of biopsy results came through yesterday. It’s not leukemia, and it’s not lymphoma.

For the last ten or so days, I’ve been suspended in this anxious calm—not knowing for sure what’s going on physically, while doing what I could to stay grounded emotionally, think intellectually, and create when I could.

I fought creativity the hardest.

When things are in flow, going my way, it’s inspiring to start the day outside on a long walk with my dog, then daydreaming with a cup of coffee on the porch. It’s fun to tell stories. I feel strong going to the gym, trying a new workout, and being around others who show up to prioritize movement. I’m happy doodling on stray napkins and paper scraps.

When I’m stuck in a waiting place, all of that feels heavy, and the energy expended on the inner dialogue to do that stuff anyway is exhausting.

Dogs and loved ones help immensely. Because even if I wasn’t totally present on all those walks, I was still walking. And even if I couldn’t lean into conversations and outreach as much as I’d like to believe I could—I still leaned.

And even though I still struggled to write—I wrote.

I even went back and reread posts I wrote for this blog about nine years ago, and to my wonderful surprise, I liked what I read. If I’m being completely honest, not only did I like them—they helped me. They helped me make more sense of what I’m feeling, building, and navigating now.

I’m starting to believe that’s the whole point of my creativity—to give me some safe space to reflect, and then, later, offer simple wisdom to remember.

Let alone, forgetting that I wrote this, I forgot it even happened: https://amandathanks.com/2015/11/11/all-dogs-go-to-heaven/