Bloggy Motivation

Last month I read Prior Fat Girl's Blog about accountability.  She poses a good question:

Every once in awhile, I think to myself that I should find an accountability partner. Someone to help keep me on track. But if I can’t be accountable to myself, what is that saying?

At first, I thought the same thing!  I mean I'm an adult and it's my life all of this impacts.  So if I can't be accountable to myself about getting healthy, what does it say about my need/want to do so?  But I keep coming back to the fact that I want an accountability partner.  I even asked for one on Facebook - telling people to call me out if I hadn't posted about surviving a workout at the gym within 24 hours.  What I got was people liking the post and some saying they don't know how far to push me in a call out.  And in the end, no one called me out.

What it comes down to for me is that I need an accountability partner(s).  I need someone to call me out, to ask me how I'm doing, to check up on my goal progress.  For really, if I could do this all on my own, I'd be doing it and have done this all in my 20s and not waited until I was hitting 40 to figure out how to be healthy.

So, yes.  Yes, I do need an accountability partner(s).  I need someone to support me in what I need to do, vent to about struggles and even laugh with.  Is this a bad thing?  I'm choosing to say that it's not.  It's a good thing because in the end no one can do life alone, we all need support.

So here are the blogs that I'm reading again, for support, motivation and immersing myself in the healthiness journey again:

1.  Prior Fat Girl:  there are a couple different women who blog about getting healthy.
2.  Fat Chick To Fit Chick:  Kick ass reality checker who doesn't mince words. 
3.  Skinny Meg:  She's hopped up on running and I really love how motivated she is.
4.  Operation Skinny Jeans:  She really speaks to me about the struggles and triumphs that she goes through.

I am still here...

I'm still here.  Still struggling in some ways and flourishing in others.

I haven't posted because...well it's complicated.  I realized last night that I don't have the running dialogue in my head all the time.  I've talked before about how I felt like there was this running stream of consciousness going on in my head all. the. time.  Well, it's quiet...er.  I can sit and spend time crocheting and I'm not running 40 things in my head about what I did that day or plans for the next or how I screwed up and what I need to change or 15 other random things.  It's a wonder why I could never meditate with all that going on.  But I sort of can now.  I'm enjoying crocheting things for gifts and for myself and the time spent with no TV/radio; just me and my hook and yarn.  It's relaxing, rather than stressful.

But, that stream of consciousness seems to have been where most of my blog posts formed.  I sort of feel like I've lost my blogging voice.  It's a hard thing.  I want to blog and document what's going on in my head, but I can't.  Many times in the last month I've sat at the computer or my netbook or even my phone and stared.  Everything that I thought about writing felt very forced and not at all authentic.  So I closed the screen without saving a single letter. 

Last night I realized that if I'm going to blog, it needs to be a conscious effort to do so.  And maybe, just maybe, I need to ease back into it, just like I'm easing back into my life in other ways.  So today, is post 1.  I probably won't be blogging daily anymore, but my goal is to do so 2-3 times a week.  I've written myself some notes about things that I really do want to talk about.

PS, thanks for listening....

207; A List of Plans

Even water proof mascara isn't really water proof.  It's likely water resistant or something.  I always wonder what kind of make up reality stars have on that they never get red and raccoon looking when they cry.  Because me?  I do crying, ugly.  I'm red, blotchy, runny nose and tears flowing.  So my lesson to you all is not to wear mascara when going for help with depression.

I love my doctor.  Can I just say that?  She listens, really listens to me.  She helps me problem solve.  She also lets me lead in what my medical care should look like.  She lets me feel in control, even when I'm not.

When she entered the office I half heartedly smiled and she could tell that something was wrong.  She asked me to explain in my own words what was happening and it's then that I realized I should have written it down.  Not only do I ugly cry, but when something like this is bothering me, I cry when I try to speak.  And you can't ugly cry and verbalize at the same time.  At least I can't.  So she waited while I tried to gather myself up to talk.  Then she listened.

At the crux of this is that I feel very much alone.  I have the support of my Mom (breast cancer/mastectomy survivor).  I have the support of Pete, who does tons of things for me and listens to everything I can manage to tell him.  I have the support of friends online and in person.  But I feel so alone.  An island unto myself.

I feel almost as though I did all of this for no reason, this self mutilation of sorts, because there was no cancer.  Which leads me to wonder if I was so ready for this to happen in the first place?  Did I rush (is 3 months of waiting, rushing?) into this decision when I could have waited or should have waited?  I feel as though my 'choice' to do this is 'rewarded' by the complications and issues that I've had since the initial surgery. 

I've tried to seek out support form several places, but there is no one like me.  No one that is a Previvor, but not BRCA positive.  No one that has chosen to do this in a situation that mirrors mine.  No one that is in their 40's and has some of the same experiences I did/do.  No one who can tell me that yes, it will be ok.  Yes, this is how I got through it.  Yes, call/text/email me when you have issues and I will listen. 

Logically I know that what I write here is off and that I know better.  But I can't seem to connect the logicalness of it and my feelings about it.  They're off course and I need to get them back on track.

So we have a plan.  A good one.
1.  I called for physical therapy again and I'm scheduled to start on 11/6/13.  Exercising is a great mood booster and I can't wait to be able to learn how to exercise without hurting myself.
2.  I was prescribed a low dose antidepressant for 6 months.  Something to help me get over the hump and have enough energy to do what I need to do on a daily basis.
3.  Seek counseling.  If I can't find a support group, I need to find a counselor for a few sessions to figure out how to sort through the feelings I'm having.

I'm adding a few to the plan:
4.  I'm going to connect more with Pete about how I'm feeling on a daily basis.  Let him know my fears because he is strong enough to listen, even if he can't do anything about them.
5.  Keep blogging.  Keep getting it out of my head and onto the 'page'.
6.  Keep being creative on a daily basis.  Something that makes me happy - crochet, reading, photography, cooking...anything.
7.  Let go right now of my weight issues.  I'm not returning to the emotional/chocolate/soda/carb addict eating, but I'm going to say that it's ok if I'm not losing weight. 

So, that's my list.  I'm very much a list maker who has to have a plan.  And this, this is my plan.

Like a good portion of bloggers, I'm actually writing this Monday night to auto-post on Tuesday.  I've a full plate of things on Tuesday and yet I feel like I need to get this out.  Excuse me, because this post is my free form ramble, not a planned and edited post.

Thursday I spent the afternoon inn the doctor's office.  I lay on the table while he took out the last stitches.  And he examined my left fake nipple, the one that wasn't healing well.  He snipped away with scissors, the same scissors that he used to cut out the stitches.  He snipped and snipped and  talked about the Ren Faire, the dissolvable stitches that were poking through, and about how the nipple would heal much better now. 

I remember thinking that it was all going to be ok.  He put the bandaid with Neosporin on it over the area and sat me up.  He told me I'd be happy with it and the profile would be a bit diminished, but it would be good.  He taped up my other scars and told me to keep taping them.  Then he took 3 month photos and talked about how he wanted to see me back in the office for the cortisone in the scars to help flatten them.

On his way out he handed me the business card for what he called "the hippie tattoo artist in Uptown" who they refer all patients to.  He told me that she would flip to see how my body scars, and that I needed to wait until my left fipple had healed completely.

And I left.  I was a bit sore on the left side.  Weirdly sore.  I can't feel the skin that he was working on, but it's almost as though my body sent signals to my brain that it should hurt, so it did.  Much like the phantom pain that I've read about with amputees.  So instead of going to a movie/presentation for work, I went home.  I relaxed in bed with my reality TV, my dinner and my dog.

Friday I got up and didn't change the bandaid or the tape over my scars, I just showered, dried them all well.  I got ready for work, worked all day and came home to relax with my hubby and my puppy.

Saturday I got up, was pretty lazy with my crocheting, my coffee and my pup.  Pete had a meeting for the motorcycle club and I had my nephew's birthday party.  I really didn't want to go, but I forced myself to get ready and I went.  Pete and I got home about the same time and cuddled with the TV until bed.

My point is that I I kind of went through the motions and just did what I needed to do to get by.  There are days and weeks in the last few months that have been much like this.  Days and weeks that I couldn't tell you what happened, unless I read blog posts or asked Pete about them.  Days and weeks where my mind was so occupied that the passing of time is a second.

But Sunday.  Sunday I worked around the house, doing 6 loads of laundry, baking a cake, reading some blogs and emails and crocheting.  I cleaned a couple of rooms and by 1pm I was tired.  I laid down to nap and actually fell asleep easily.  Pete and my alarm woke me up to shower for your dinner reservations.  I took the previous bandaid off and really looked at my left nipple.

Half of it was gone.  No wonder he told me the profile would be different.  No wonder he snipped so long.  It was cut in half from front to back.  I get it.  It's just a nipple.  But on the flip side.  It's my flipping fake nipple after a hard long summer of surgery and recovery.  It's days like that where I wonder why.  Why me?  Why did I do this?  Why did I chose now to have surgery? Why can't I heal right for once?  Why do I have to keep going through this?  Why?

In the scheme of things, it's a nipple.  But it's just that it symbolizes so much more for me.  I have breasts that are fake that I can't feel that have scars all over them.  I have a tummy that has a paunch right above it/above my belly button, but my tummy is flat as Minnesota.  I have hips that are bigger and my butt is still the same size as before.  I can't flex my abs without wincing and I can't do much with my chest muscles before they ache.  It still takes me about 15 minutes of sheer wincing and grimacing and sometimes crying in the morning to stop my muscles from spasmming after laying still all night.

Can't my nipples me the one thing that turned out great?  Can't they be the one thing that didn't cause me concern or worry or tears?  And then I watch TV and see how the people n the Boston Bombing talk about not letting the bombers make them victims.  They talk about persevering and even prospering.  And I feel weak and pitful.  For today I've let breast cancer and being a previvor be something that I'm not ok with, something that has turned me into a victim.  I feel weak and dumb and such a fool.  If they can do that in the wake of a horrible tragedy, why I can't I do this when I knew for years in the back of my head that it was coming?  Why?  Why can't I live above it, through it, each and every day?  Why do I cry in the shower and put on a happy face for everyone?

I want to scream and yell and punch cancer in the gut. I want to cry that it's not fair and give it to someone else.  I want to throw in the towel, admit defeat and stay in bed for weeks with the blinds down, my dog on ne side of me and Pete on the other.  I want to yell and scream and cry and pout and be mad.  I try to decide if what I'm going through is normal or I should be seeking meds to help me get through it.  I have insomnia issues starting back, just like I did before surgery.  My anxiety in public is telling me that everyone knows and they're staring.  I'm uncomfortable because I've gained weight and I can't fit in my clothes and I'm worried that I won't get back to where I was.  I eat Starburst candy corn like it's my only saving grace.

I'm a mess. This morning I called the doctor's office because with all this, what's left of my left nipple is starting to look like it did before he cut away the skin.  It's forming this thick white area between the edge of the skin and the open area.  I cried when I told the nurse that I was getting worried that I was going to lose the whole thing soon.  I don't want to lose it.  I want 2 nipples.  I want to look like a damn normal woman again.  That's all I want.  That's all.  Normal.  Equal.  Even. 

So when this posts, I should be back on that table again in that doctor's office.  Laying back and wondering what's going to happen.  Only this time I'm taking Pete.  I need the support and I realize that I don't have to do it all alone.  I don't have to suffer in silence.  Pete married me in good times and bad and he's really my biggest champion in all this and he wants to be with me.  And for that, I will never ever be able to tell him how much he means to me.

205.2; On Blogging

I realized not long ago that I've been blogging off and on for about 10 years.  Mostly I started for me, to record the things that were happening inn my life for myself.  It wasn't public and I was my only reader.  At some point I decided to take the plunge to make it public.  I remember thinking how scared I was to do that and open myself up to criticism.  At that point I was big into scrapbooking/paper crafting and I belonged (actually still belong) to a big name website.  Bloggers who opened up their blogs to the women on that site were ripped apart.  But I got over my fears and just did it.

My blog has been a record for everything from dating to meeting Pete to wedding planning, to family issues, to losing weight to my surgery.  It's a record of what I've gone through in the last 10 years and just as life changes, so does the focus of my blog.  I've designed it myself (I am a horrendous designer), I've used free templates and most recently I've used Hubby Jack.  He is a much better designer than I am, by far.  I'd totally recommend him if you're looking for some design. 

In the last couple of years I've thought more about how I could help people with my blog.  First with losing weight and having a gastric band and now with being a Previvor and my mastectomy.  I've also thought about how my connections with friends over the Internet are very important to me.  I've had great friends over the Internet for 7-8 years that have sustained me through hard times and rejoiced with me in good times.

So, with that, I joined a couple of swaps.  I love learning about how/why other people blog and learning more about blogging.  I joined Brew Mama's Fall Swap.  My partner is Getz Girl On Fire.  And holy buckets, her running photo is fierce!  She's obviously determined to re4ach her goals and that's very cool.  I'm finding out more about her and we have some pretty cool things in common:  she's crazy about her pups like I am with mine, she loves her Keruig like I love mine and we both like to cook and stalk Food Network Celebs!  I'm a bit jealous of her wonderful friends and their great trips.  Those friend connections are what makes life and making memories on those trips just solidifies the friendship even further.  So go check her blog out!