Here's the thing. Cancer and mastectomies and reconstruction surgeries are scary. I get that. And when you talk to people about it, their first instinct is to comfort you and reassure you. So somewhere along the way, people create these groups and agencies and networks to support women (and men) going through this. They developed plans to help out, things to say to support and ways to help out.
But having DCIS, going through a mastectomy, reconstruction and subsequent surgeries, isn't a big pink ribbon. It's not being glad that it's 'over'. It's not getting on with life and being glad it wasn't cancer/glad I'm alive. It's just not. Not for me and not for a large group of people out there.
My scars are ugly. They're never going to be pretty. But they tell the story of who I am and what I've gone through. The fact that I went through this emotional roller coaster and it wasn't cancer, isn't comforting. It's just not. It never will be. I'm not over it and won't be over it for a long time, if ever.
I understand that people around me feel uncomfortable and they say and do things in the hopes of making me feel more comfortable and in turn them more comfortable. But honestly, it makes me feel worse. Like I should just sweep everything that I went through under the rug, don't talk about it and move on...pretend it never happened.
Guess what?
I had DCIS.
I had a 62% chance of breast cancer in my life.
I had a mastectomy.
I had reconstruction that resulted in big dark ugly scars.
I had a nipple & revision surgery.
I lost most of both of the revised nipples.
I'm not secure, safe because cancer is gone.
I deal with the repercussions of my choices daily.
I'm not comfortable in my skin currently.
I'm afraid to exercise.
I'm afraid to be happy.
I'm afraid to have the rug pulled out from under me again.
I'm...afraid.
Showing posts with label recovery. Show all posts
Showing posts with label recovery. Show all posts
Thursday, May 29, 2014
Friday, May 09, 2014
So where am I at?
After all that has gone on, where am I at?
Honestly...and I am going to be honest here...
I weighed myself today and I'm 226. My lowest ever was 188 and I was hanging around 192-195 for the first 6 months of 2013. I have 1 pair of work pants that I can get on, but they're so tight that I'm uncomfortable by the end of the day. I have 2 pair of jeans that fit me. I have 5 or 6 shirts that fit for wearing out. But mostly I wear yoga pants and old YMCA t-shirts.
I developed planter fascitis in my left foot. So running...nope. Walking...nope. Some days, by the end of the day I can barely walk on it. I'm trying to use the store bought inserts and being aware of my foot ware and doing the exercises I found on the net. The gym has been non existent.
Eating. Sigh. I am full out sugar addicted again. FULL OUT. Pete has done so well with his weight loss and is hovering at 162-167 with a really fast metabolism. He makes cookies about twice a week and keeps them on the counter. I try not to indulge and honestly he would stop if I asked, but I don't want my stuff to impact him. I try to have a green salad with lots of veggies and some protein in the form of hard boiled egg, cheese or tuna on it for lunch every day. So that's on target. But I'm not hungry for breakfast since I'm not at the gym and I struggle with what to eat. Dinner I'm pretty good also. It's the snacking. Licorice, cookies, cake, PB cups...snacking.
I still have days where I question the choices I made. There is a huge movement that says that doctors are 'pushing' mastectomies for people like me, when they're not really needed. The instance of cancer deaths is down, but there is testing that shows that the type of pre-cancer that I had, doesn't often turn into full blown breast cancer. The difference for me, is that I had the family history and the 60% chance of it actually going to cancer. Sometimes it's hard to look past the what ifs and just be at peace with my decision. The choices that I made had such an impact on so many aspects of my life and impacted Pete too. And I need to stress that he is supportive of whatever choice I wanted to make, but that's not to say that there were some negatives that came with it.
I'm so freaking frustrated with myself! My body image is bad again. I don't want to shop for clothes, that's why I haven't bought very much bigger things. Shopping isn't fun. In fact, I've walked in several stores, only to walk back out again because I don't have the mental fortitude to dig in and start trying on clothes. Not only have I gained weight, but my shape has changed again. I realize how small my hips had gotten when I lost weight. They're back to being big and it makes finding clothes really really hard (crying while writing this and thinking about it).
I've come to realize that what worked for me before in losing weight, isn't going to work now. And I'm pissed off that I have to figure out a new plan. Pissed. But sitting here and bitching about the whole thing isn't going to change it, is it? I need to figure out that plan. Soon.
Honestly...and I am going to be honest here...
I weighed myself today and I'm 226. My lowest ever was 188 and I was hanging around 192-195 for the first 6 months of 2013. I have 1 pair of work pants that I can get on, but they're so tight that I'm uncomfortable by the end of the day. I have 2 pair of jeans that fit me. I have 5 or 6 shirts that fit for wearing out. But mostly I wear yoga pants and old YMCA t-shirts.
I developed planter fascitis in my left foot. So running...nope. Walking...nope. Some days, by the end of the day I can barely walk on it. I'm trying to use the store bought inserts and being aware of my foot ware and doing the exercises I found on the net. The gym has been non existent.
Eating. Sigh. I am full out sugar addicted again. FULL OUT. Pete has done so well with his weight loss and is hovering at 162-167 with a really fast metabolism. He makes cookies about twice a week and keeps them on the counter. I try not to indulge and honestly he would stop if I asked, but I don't want my stuff to impact him. I try to have a green salad with lots of veggies and some protein in the form of hard boiled egg, cheese or tuna on it for lunch every day. So that's on target. But I'm not hungry for breakfast since I'm not at the gym and I struggle with what to eat. Dinner I'm pretty good also. It's the snacking. Licorice, cookies, cake, PB cups...snacking.
I still have days where I question the choices I made. There is a huge movement that says that doctors are 'pushing' mastectomies for people like me, when they're not really needed. The instance of cancer deaths is down, but there is testing that shows that the type of pre-cancer that I had, doesn't often turn into full blown breast cancer. The difference for me, is that I had the family history and the 60% chance of it actually going to cancer. Sometimes it's hard to look past the what ifs and just be at peace with my decision. The choices that I made had such an impact on so many aspects of my life and impacted Pete too. And I need to stress that he is supportive of whatever choice I wanted to make, but that's not to say that there were some negatives that came with it.
I'm so freaking frustrated with myself! My body image is bad again. I don't want to shop for clothes, that's why I haven't bought very much bigger things. Shopping isn't fun. In fact, I've walked in several stores, only to walk back out again because I don't have the mental fortitude to dig in and start trying on clothes. Not only have I gained weight, but my shape has changed again. I realize how small my hips had gotten when I lost weight. They're back to being big and it makes finding clothes really really hard (crying while writing this and thinking about it).
I've come to realize that what worked for me before in losing weight, isn't going to work now. And I'm pissed off that I have to figure out a new plan. Pissed. But sitting here and bitching about the whole thing isn't going to change it, is it? I need to figure out that plan. Soon.
Monday, May 05, 2014
A Sharp Left
April 23, 2013: the day I had a biopsy and learned that I could have breast cancer. The day that my lift too a sharp left turn in a world of rights. I posted about it: Fear is real, but honest. Praying.
April 23, 2014: I knew it was coming. I had fleeting thoughts about it in the weeks leading up to that day. But each time I'd think about it, I tried to dismiss the thought. The day came and I got up and worked, just like I usually did. I was behind, had a few things I was juggling, but worked. I found myself starting into the screen at times and felt unsettled, almost like I was dreading something.
I had to run and errand and instead of eating lunch, I decided to get that done. I bought things for dinner at the grocery store and returned home. If Pete noticed that I was quiet, he didn't say much. I tried to crochet after working, but that feeling of anxiety returned. My heart races and I feel like I could jump form my skin. As if jumping around or off a wall or something, would lessen the feeling I was having.
I started dinner and asked Pete to help with shredding potatoes. I got dinner in the oven and tried to relax. But that anxiety, it's like a dark shadow that follows you and avoiding it doesn't make it go away. The timer went off and I took the dinner out of the oven. Only instead of putting it on the stove to cool, I accidentally put it on a burner that had been turned on previously. The glass pan got hotter. Just writing about this, reliving it through getting it out; it's all giving me more anxiety. When I set the pan aside, I called Pete in and he washed his hands for dinner. Water must have dropped on the pan and it exploded - everywhere.
That was it. I immediately started crying and couldn't stop. It was such a cliche thing to happen - the pan exploding and my emotions exploding. But it got them out. Pete didn't understand why I was crying until I explained it to him. I tried so hard to just avoid the feelings and thinking about it. When what I should have done is hit those feelings head on by talking about them. By getting them out in words or even recording myself talking. Valuable lesson.
April 23, 2014: I knew it was coming. I had fleeting thoughts about it in the weeks leading up to that day. But each time I'd think about it, I tried to dismiss the thought. The day came and I got up and worked, just like I usually did. I was behind, had a few things I was juggling, but worked. I found myself starting into the screen at times and felt unsettled, almost like I was dreading something.
I had to run and errand and instead of eating lunch, I decided to get that done. I bought things for dinner at the grocery store and returned home. If Pete noticed that I was quiet, he didn't say much. I tried to crochet after working, but that feeling of anxiety returned. My heart races and I feel like I could jump form my skin. As if jumping around or off a wall or something, would lessen the feeling I was having.
I started dinner and asked Pete to help with shredding potatoes. I got dinner in the oven and tried to relax. But that anxiety, it's like a dark shadow that follows you and avoiding it doesn't make it go away. The timer went off and I took the dinner out of the oven. Only instead of putting it on the stove to cool, I accidentally put it on a burner that had been turned on previously. The glass pan got hotter. Just writing about this, reliving it through getting it out; it's all giving me more anxiety. When I set the pan aside, I called Pete in and he washed his hands for dinner. Water must have dropped on the pan and it exploded - everywhere.
That was it. I immediately started crying and couldn't stop. It was such a cliche thing to happen - the pan exploding and my emotions exploding. But it got them out. Pete didn't understand why I was crying until I explained it to him. I tried so hard to just avoid the feelings and thinking about it. When what I should have done is hit those feelings head on by talking about them. By getting them out in words or even recording myself talking. Valuable lesson.
Tuesday, March 04, 2014
The Plan and Goals
When I detailed my plan last week I forgot to talk about a big part of it. Blogging.
Blogging and reading blogs is such a powerful motivator for me. I think that I tend to hibernate when things are going right and that's when I most need to reach out. I need to document the struggles that I have and go back to read them so I can see I am powerful and strong. I need to read the bloggers who motivated me before and find new ones to share my current struggles.
So along with the plan from last week, I plan on blogging regularly again.
Goals are important. Really important. I reached out Fabulous Check Gets Fit after seeing her posts on her Instagram. She reminded me that setting small goals to get that sense of accomplishment is important. We all want to feel like we are making accomplishments and this is one way to do that.
My goal is to lose 20 pounds. I honestly don't think that it will take more than about 6 months to do that once I start execising regularly and slowly returning to my healthier eating. I hope that the gym will start helping me with body image too and regaining the muscle that I've lost.
Along with goal setting, I personally feel like it should be connected to a reward. Small, medium or large, just not food related. I used to put money on the fridge that I could spend on clothes or pick out a new pan to cook with or more motorcycle riding gear. My goal for getting to under 200 was my ring tattoo for Pete. And I look at that infinity symbol and heart and rememeber that I CAN DO THIS.
So my goal for losing 20 pounds is another tattoo. In fact two of them. My fake nipple tattoos to finsh of my reconectruction. I have the name of the tattoo artist who comes highly recommended and the money set aside to get them done. That's my goal.
Blogging and reading blogs is such a powerful motivator for me. I think that I tend to hibernate when things are going right and that's when I most need to reach out. I need to document the struggles that I have and go back to read them so I can see I am powerful and strong. I need to read the bloggers who motivated me before and find new ones to share my current struggles.
So along with the plan from last week, I plan on blogging regularly again.
Goals are important. Really important. I reached out Fabulous Check Gets Fit after seeing her posts on her Instagram. She reminded me that setting small goals to get that sense of accomplishment is important. We all want to feel like we are making accomplishments and this is one way to do that.
My goal is to lose 20 pounds. I honestly don't think that it will take more than about 6 months to do that once I start execising regularly and slowly returning to my healthier eating. I hope that the gym will start helping me with body image too and regaining the muscle that I've lost.
Along with goal setting, I personally feel like it should be connected to a reward. Small, medium or large, just not food related. I used to put money on the fridge that I could spend on clothes or pick out a new pan to cook with or more motorcycle riding gear. My goal for getting to under 200 was my ring tattoo for Pete. And I look at that infinity symbol and heart and rememeber that I CAN DO THIS.
So my goal for losing 20 pounds is another tattoo. In fact two of them. My fake nipple tattoos to finsh of my reconectruction. I have the name of the tattoo artist who comes highly recommended and the money set aside to get them done. That's my goal.
Thursday, February 27, 2014
The Plan (version 2, or 200)
So I've posted a few times previously about a plan or action plan. I have a new version. A restart.
What I know:
My vitamins are on and off. I need to place them on my work desk so that they stare me in the face every morning and I take them more frequently.
Water. *sigh* Some days I can't get enough and some days I struggle. So I returned to some water additives to help. Pete is into juicing and sometimes I add some of the cucmber or fruit juices that he makes. Others, it's a natural ingredient crystal light with cane sugar/stevia or True Lime's BlackCherry Limeade.
Meals/Snacks are a struggle I'm fully willing to admit. Pete is down to about 160-165 and has stayed there for about 7-8 months. He works out enough and his metabolism is so high that he has been buying cookie dough, Oreos, ice cream, reeces PB cups and other crap. He eats and eats and doesn't gain. I will have a PB cup and a couple of cookies and it's all over for me. I need to stop. He is more than willing to not have the stuff in the house so that it's not tempting me, but I feel back and keep buying it for him. But it comes back to my CHOICES. I need to 'reset' my band and let the pouch above it shrink back down. So starting Sunday I'm going to drink Pete's Body by VI shakes for breakfast & lunch and then eat a clean meal of chicken/veg or salmon/veg for dinner for a week.
The gym. It's periods like now where it isn't my second home and I don't feel compfortable because I've gained weight that I struggle even going. My favorite instructor keeps telling me it's ok and I'll find my way back. It's people like her that make me love my local Y. Because I'm awkward running and scared of injuring myself in Body Pump, I've decided to branch out. I'v scheduled myself classes 3 days a week; Mondays is Water Execrise in the pool, Wednesdays is Standing Flow Stretching and Movement and Fridays I'll try Body Pump with a bar only, no weight.
That's the new plan.
What I know:
- I currently weigh 224 pounds
- I'm not currently going to the gym
- Running is still awkward given my new body shape and anything less than running on that treadmill is frustrating.
- I'm afraid to go back to Body Pump because of the loss of muscle and change in my body.
- I'm eating more disordered meals and snacks.
- I'm having issues with insomnia again which cause an inability to get up early for the gym.
- I work from home most the time and wear stretchy clothes because none of my other clothes fit.
- No electronics after 9:30pm
- Take vitamins and minerals daily.
- 100 ounces of water daily.
- No carbonated drinks.
- 3 clean meals and 2 planned snacks
- Gym, 3 days a week.
My vitamins are on and off. I need to place them on my work desk so that they stare me in the face every morning and I take them more frequently.
Water. *sigh* Some days I can't get enough and some days I struggle. So I returned to some water additives to help. Pete is into juicing and sometimes I add some of the cucmber or fruit juices that he makes. Others, it's a natural ingredient crystal light with cane sugar/stevia or True Lime's BlackCherry Limeade.
Meals/Snacks are a struggle I'm fully willing to admit. Pete is down to about 160-165 and has stayed there for about 7-8 months. He works out enough and his metabolism is so high that he has been buying cookie dough, Oreos, ice cream, reeces PB cups and other crap. He eats and eats and doesn't gain. I will have a PB cup and a couple of cookies and it's all over for me. I need to stop. He is more than willing to not have the stuff in the house so that it's not tempting me, but I feel back and keep buying it for him. But it comes back to my CHOICES. I need to 'reset' my band and let the pouch above it shrink back down. So starting Sunday I'm going to drink Pete's Body by VI shakes for breakfast & lunch and then eat a clean meal of chicken/veg or salmon/veg for dinner for a week.
The gym. It's periods like now where it isn't my second home and I don't feel compfortable because I've gained weight that I struggle even going. My favorite instructor keeps telling me it's ok and I'll find my way back. It's people like her that make me love my local Y. Because I'm awkward running and scared of injuring myself in Body Pump, I've decided to branch out. I'v scheduled myself classes 3 days a week; Mondays is Water Execrise in the pool, Wednesdays is Standing Flow Stretching and Movement and Fridays I'll try Body Pump with a bar only, no weight.
That's the new plan.
Tuesday, January 14, 2014
Tap..Tap, Tap...
*insert joke here*
Is this thing on?
If you would have asked me 7 months ago how my recovery from these mastectomies would have gone, I would have told you that my physical issues would take a long time to heal. But I never considered longer term phychological issues. Oh sure, I realized that there may be issues with losing my natural breasts and the scarring. But the long term issues I never considered.
Today I am off the antidepressant. It's too early to know what my new normal is again. I will say that going off the meds and having PMS at the same time probably isn't recommended. I'm tired all the time, expect at bedtime. I'm way over emotional. And I still have no motivation.
But I worry. I worry that my previous normal will never be the same again. I worry that taking the meds, even for a short time, screwed up my brain chemistry already. I'm worried that I should have been on the meds long ago and life wouldn't have been so hard. I'm worried.
I talk to Pete a lot more now about my feelings and emotions and we connect much better on a deeper level. I will always have the surgery to thank for that. He is supportive and a good listener. Even if his goal is to "fix" it all, he realizes that it's not always my goal and that it's ok just to talk about it. But I sense some frustration that he can't fix it for me. I'm so very sorry for that. My heart hurts that he has to ensure that feeling of helplessness because of me.
I am done with physical therapy and therapy and, and it's just me. And when I say that in my head and see that on this screen, I wonder again if the meds aren't what I really need. I try to look at myself objectively as I can. I see in my head all the conversations I've had with clients about taking their meds. They all want to stop them because they're "fixed", but mental health is sometimes never "fixed" by a short course of medications. I think about all the times that I directed them back to their doctors to get back on the meds that they self tapered off of. I think about how I tell them that if they were diabetic they'd take the meds so they need to take the mental health meds. And I wonder, is that what I should be telling myself?
Is this thing on?
If you would have asked me 7 months ago how my recovery from these mastectomies would have gone, I would have told you that my physical issues would take a long time to heal. But I never considered longer term phychological issues. Oh sure, I realized that there may be issues with losing my natural breasts and the scarring. But the long term issues I never considered.
Today I am off the antidepressant. It's too early to know what my new normal is again. I will say that going off the meds and having PMS at the same time probably isn't recommended. I'm tired all the time, expect at bedtime. I'm way over emotional. And I still have no motivation.
But I worry. I worry that my previous normal will never be the same again. I worry that taking the meds, even for a short time, screwed up my brain chemistry already. I'm worried that I should have been on the meds long ago and life wouldn't have been so hard. I'm worried.
I talk to Pete a lot more now about my feelings and emotions and we connect much better on a deeper level. I will always have the surgery to thank for that. He is supportive and a good listener. Even if his goal is to "fix" it all, he realizes that it's not always my goal and that it's ok just to talk about it. But I sense some frustration that he can't fix it for me. I'm so very sorry for that. My heart hurts that he has to ensure that feeling of helplessness because of me.
I am done with physical therapy and therapy and, and it's just me. And when I say that in my head and see that on this screen, I wonder again if the meds aren't what I really need. I try to look at myself objectively as I can. I see in my head all the conversations I've had with clients about taking their meds. They all want to stop them because they're "fixed", but mental health is sometimes never "fixed" by a short course of medications. I think about all the times that I directed them back to their doctors to get back on the meds that they self tapered off of. I think about how I tell them that if they were diabetic they'd take the meds so they need to take the mental health meds. And I wonder, is that what I should be telling myself?
Monday, January 06, 2014
What's My Plan?
Clearly 2013 wasn't anything that I thought it would be. It's thrown me for a loop in most aspects of my life. And while I'd love to tell you that I was "healed" on 1/10/14, 6 months after surgery, I'm not. I'm done with therapy and feel like I have more control over my emotions. But I'm still on the antidepressant and trying ti figure out how to get off. I'm still in physical therapy to help build the muscles back up. I'm not going to the gym on a regular basis. And my motivation for anything seems to be gone.
So what's my plan? I haven't quite figured out the whole thing. In some ways, I'm more reluctant to plan in 2014 because of the loop that a went on in 2013. It's as though I can't fathom planning past the next month or the next week. Maybe the reluctance is from the abnormal biopsy and everything that happened afterwards or maybe it's from the antidepressant.
I've been researching how to wean myself off the antidepressant because I feel like I need to try it on my own. And while I could do it myself, others have told me that I should really see my doctor about it. I've had long conversations with Pete about how the medication makes me feel. No motivation, no energy, more insomnia, tired all the time, weight gain, nothing seems fun. And while I like the fact that I'm not engaged in the running commentary in my head all the time and I'm less anxious and stressed, I think I need to be done with it. The good doesn't seem to outweigh the bad. We've talked about how I think I need to try it off the med and if something changes; if he sees negative changes in me, I'll go back on some type of medication.
I've thought long and hard about who I am. The me before the medication with the dialogue in my head, driven by motivation and sometimes stress, anxious about things at times, goal oriented... Maybe, just maybe, that's who I am and who I'm meant to be. Even though those things were lessened with the medication, they are things that I am used to and have developed tools to deal with them. This new me is someone that I don't know how to "fix". I don't know how to get more motivation when I feel NONE. I don't know how to feel highs and laughter and funny. I don't know how to feel a bit stressed so that it drives to me be productive. Maybe, those are all just me and I need them.
So my plan is shortsighted for now. Simply put, it's to get off the medication and see how I feel about it all.
So what's my plan? I haven't quite figured out the whole thing. In some ways, I'm more reluctant to plan in 2014 because of the loop that a went on in 2013. It's as though I can't fathom planning past the next month or the next week. Maybe the reluctance is from the abnormal biopsy and everything that happened afterwards or maybe it's from the antidepressant.
I've been researching how to wean myself off the antidepressant because I feel like I need to try it on my own. And while I could do it myself, others have told me that I should really see my doctor about it. I've had long conversations with Pete about how the medication makes me feel. No motivation, no energy, more insomnia, tired all the time, weight gain, nothing seems fun. And while I like the fact that I'm not engaged in the running commentary in my head all the time and I'm less anxious and stressed, I think I need to be done with it. The good doesn't seem to outweigh the bad. We've talked about how I think I need to try it off the med and if something changes; if he sees negative changes in me, I'll go back on some type of medication.
I've thought long and hard about who I am. The me before the medication with the dialogue in my head, driven by motivation and sometimes stress, anxious about things at times, goal oriented... Maybe, just maybe, that's who I am and who I'm meant to be. Even though those things were lessened with the medication, they are things that I am used to and have developed tools to deal with them. This new me is someone that I don't know how to "fix". I don't know how to get more motivation when I feel NONE. I don't know how to feel highs and laughter and funny. I don't know how to feel a bit stressed so that it drives to me be productive. Maybe, those are all just me and I need them.
So my plan is shortsighted for now. Simply put, it's to get off the medication and see how I feel about it all.
Thursday, December 26, 2013
A Different Take On Christmas
This Christmas was different than any year I ever remember. The difference? I was relaxed.
For as long as I can remember, Christmas started the day after Thanksgiving with furious activity of rushing, going and worry. The tree, the 48 hour+ baking spree, multiple days of shopping, a day of wrapping perfectly, searching for food, preparing new and cool foods and gifts, running from home to home and shopping some more... I like to think that I'm a relaxed, type B personality. But in the last couple of weeks I'm starting to think that maybe I'm more type a than I think.
This year? I didn't put the tree up. I never spent a good 48 hours baking all kinds of Christmas cookies that partially got thrown away. I shopped for gifts one day and was done. I used gift bags instead of pretty coordinating wrap. I never made a huge deal over a special breakfast on Christmas eve or day. I didn't shop for days over 2 new outfits for the 2 days.
Pete and I opened gifts on the 23rd, which is our tradition. I commented that this year felt different and more relaxed than I've ever been. He commented that he saw that and in turn it was more relaxed for him also. We didn't argue about how he wasn't liking going to my extended family Christmas; I went and he stayed home. We both won.
This is a new experience for me.
For as long as I can remember, Christmas started the day after Thanksgiving with furious activity of rushing, going and worry. The tree, the 48 hour+ baking spree, multiple days of shopping, a day of wrapping perfectly, searching for food, preparing new and cool foods and gifts, running from home to home and shopping some more... I like to think that I'm a relaxed, type B personality. But in the last couple of weeks I'm starting to think that maybe I'm more type a than I think.
This year? I didn't put the tree up. I never spent a good 48 hours baking all kinds of Christmas cookies that partially got thrown away. I shopped for gifts one day and was done. I used gift bags instead of pretty coordinating wrap. I never made a huge deal over a special breakfast on Christmas eve or day. I didn't shop for days over 2 new outfits for the 2 days.
Pete and I opened gifts on the 23rd, which is our tradition. I commented that this year felt different and more relaxed than I've ever been. He commented that he saw that and in turn it was more relaxed for him also. We didn't argue about how he wasn't liking going to my extended family Christmas; I went and he stayed home. We both won.
This is a new experience for me.
Monday, December 16, 2013
I Love Myself
Deep down, I know that I love myself, just as I am. But the day to day me isn't always so sure.
After losing weight I was liking my body, but the good and the bad parts. But with the surgery scars and the weight gain, I feel the self doubt filling in those empty spots. My scar is long and red and raised. Ready? Be gentle with me, because this is the first time I'm publicly sharing some of my scars.
This is my abdomen scar. Where they took skin and tissue to rebuild the breasts. The scar runs from buttock around the front to the other buttock.
Why am I sharing this now? I watched some documentary where they talked about self doubt and hate. One of the things that a therapist said, what she would prescribe that patients go home and post on their bathroom mirror: I love myself unconditionally! Read it twice a day and say it out loud. She said that the first 20 days or so would be filled with self doubt, criticism and sometimes hate. But after day 20 those critical statements after the sentence would get less and less. After 30 days, they're down to very few.
So, I'm here to say that I love myself. I'm not perfect (no one is) and I have things that I can improve upon. I'll do those when my body and mind are ready to tackle them again. Until then, I'm choosing to give myself grace and be ok with where I am.
After losing weight I was liking my body, but the good and the bad parts. But with the surgery scars and the weight gain, I feel the self doubt filling in those empty spots. My scar is long and red and raised. Ready? Be gentle with me, because this is the first time I'm publicly sharing some of my scars.
This is my abdomen scar. Where they took skin and tissue to rebuild the breasts. The scar runs from buttock around the front to the other buttock.
Why am I sharing this now? I watched some documentary where they talked about self doubt and hate. One of the things that a therapist said, what she would prescribe that patients go home and post on their bathroom mirror: I love myself unconditionally! Read it twice a day and say it out loud. She said that the first 20 days or so would be filled with self doubt, criticism and sometimes hate. But after day 20 those critical statements after the sentence would get less and less. After 30 days, they're down to very few.
So, I'm here to say that I love myself. I'm not perfect (no one is) and I have things that I can improve upon. I'll do those when my body and mind are ready to tackle them again. Until then, I'm choosing to give myself grace and be ok with where I am.
Thursday, December 12, 2013
Shades of Grey
Tell me, where did your mind just go? *wink* Well, my shades are considerably more boring.
For years I was frustrated at every political discussion I had. I was frustrated about every social issue discussion too. Oh, and schools? Yep, frustrated too.
The process would look like this:
Other Person: All cows should be blue. Period.
Me: But not all cows are blue.
OP: But they should be. Blue or yellow.
Me: But the truth is that some are green.
OP: But cows have historically been blue and yellow and they shouldn't change.
Me: But there are so many reasons why cows aren't always blue and yellow and we need to consider those.
OP: Nope. Blue or yellow.
Me: grrrrrrrr (leaves conversation)
When my counselor asked me to describe myself the other day I said that I am the greyest person I know. She laughed and asked me to explain. I told her that for any statement she gives me, I'll likely to find several different points that would both support and discount it. I told her that I usually cheer for the team who is losing, even if I switch sides every inning. I spend a lot of time explaining my reasoning behind everything and I often get frustrated.
Her response was that it was all awesome. And then I laughed.
Most people in this world have a very black/white outlook on life. They are very absolute about what they think and believe. Me? I'm the opposite. She said that in her practice, she spends a lot of time with those black/white people trying to get them to understand the grey areas as those people have a hard time seeing that there could be any other answer, other than A or B.
Interesting.
But I explained that it frustrated me when I talked with others that they couldn't see the things that I see. She acknowledged this and said that while hard, it must make me a pretty understanding person. When I thought about it, I agreed. (toots my own horn...)
What I left with was a new understanding about not only myself, but those around me. I feel a lot like the person who's always saying, "But, what about this?" And while that may be true, I also help people think about things that they had not or could not even think about in many situations. Maybe that's why I like being a probation/parole agent so much?
For years I was frustrated at every political discussion I had. I was frustrated about every social issue discussion too. Oh, and schools? Yep, frustrated too.
The process would look like this:
Other Person: All cows should be blue. Period.
Me: But not all cows are blue.
OP: But they should be. Blue or yellow.
Me: But the truth is that some are green.
OP: But cows have historically been blue and yellow and they shouldn't change.
Me: But there are so many reasons why cows aren't always blue and yellow and we need to consider those.
OP: Nope. Blue or yellow.
Me: grrrrrrrr (leaves conversation)
When my counselor asked me to describe myself the other day I said that I am the greyest person I know. She laughed and asked me to explain. I told her that for any statement she gives me, I'll likely to find several different points that would both support and discount it. I told her that I usually cheer for the team who is losing, even if I switch sides every inning. I spend a lot of time explaining my reasoning behind everything and I often get frustrated.
Her response was that it was all awesome. And then I laughed.
Most people in this world have a very black/white outlook on life. They are very absolute about what they think and believe. Me? I'm the opposite. She said that in her practice, she spends a lot of time with those black/white people trying to get them to understand the grey areas as those people have a hard time seeing that there could be any other answer, other than A or B.
Interesting.
But I explained that it frustrated me when I talked with others that they couldn't see the things that I see. She acknowledged this and said that while hard, it must make me a pretty understanding person. When I thought about it, I agreed. (toots my own horn...)
What I left with was a new understanding about not only myself, but those around me. I feel a lot like the person who's always saying, "But, what about this?" And while that may be true, I also help people think about things that they had not or could not even think about in many situations. Maybe that's why I like being a probation/parole agent so much?
Wednesday, December 11, 2013
What I've Learned in 5 Months
Five months ago I was in surgery. A long surgery that's colored every part of my life since. I've spent a long time in the last few weeks considering the choice that I made and how my life has changed. And while there are days I'll tell you that it was the worst thing that ever happened to me, the reality is that not all of it was negative.
1. I learned who really cared for me in various ways. Reality is that when someone has a life altering event, most people think about how sad it is. Not all of those people offer to help or even support. Some just can't and others don't want to be bothered. I learned that I have an awesome husband who will go to the ends of the Earth for me. I have caring co-workers who organized a lot of help. I have friends who live no where near me, but were with me every moment of every day.
2. I learned that I can't do it all and that's ok. The world will not end because I didn't make my famous potato hotdish (Translation - Casserole. Remember, I'm midwestern.) for the Christmas Potluck. It will not end because I didn't do cute little Halloweek bags for my trick or treaters. And It will not end because the bathroom counter looks like a tornado for 3 days straight. Family and friends will be ok not getting a Christmas card this year.
3. I learned that I need to let my husband into my head a little bit. That withholding my thoughts is akin to turning my back to him when I need him most and then getting mad when he doesn't help. IO learned that out of a sad/difficult thing, cvan come a new awareness and awakening of a realitionship. I learned that we love each other...a lot.
4. I learned that while my brain may feel ok, my body doesn't and I need to listen to it. I need to go slowly and have patience with myself. That nothing goes from 1-100 without all the other 98 numbers inbetween. I learned that even 5 months along, it's sitll ok to nap a couple of hours a day and spend time relaxing to recharge.
5. I learned that my relationship with my family is important. My realtionship with my Mom is at times difficult because of how different we are, but that when it comes down to it, we are similar also. I learned that my Grandma, all 89 years of her, will help out any way she can.
6. I learned that I could do a better job advocating for myself. Instead of letting myself get to the crying every day stage, I could have admitted to the plastic surgeon any number of times that I needed help. Instead of letting Pete do my talking, I could habe been more vocal about my needs and wants and sought out a solution.
7. I learned that I do much better when I have an action plan of how to fix things. Whether it's validating emotions and what I know to be true around them or planning on exercising on certain days, it's a plan.
I know that there's way more that I could list out. But those are the big ones. I suppose that if I posted again in July 2014 (which I'm sure to do) I'll have more things that I've learned.
1. I learned who really cared for me in various ways. Reality is that when someone has a life altering event, most people think about how sad it is. Not all of those people offer to help or even support. Some just can't and others don't want to be bothered. I learned that I have an awesome husband who will go to the ends of the Earth for me. I have caring co-workers who organized a lot of help. I have friends who live no where near me, but were with me every moment of every day.
2. I learned that I can't do it all and that's ok. The world will not end because I didn't make my famous potato hotdish (Translation - Casserole. Remember, I'm midwestern.) for the Christmas Potluck. It will not end because I didn't do cute little Halloweek bags for my trick or treaters. And It will not end because the bathroom counter looks like a tornado for 3 days straight. Family and friends will be ok not getting a Christmas card this year.
3. I learned that I need to let my husband into my head a little bit. That withholding my thoughts is akin to turning my back to him when I need him most and then getting mad when he doesn't help. IO learned that out of a sad/difficult thing, cvan come a new awareness and awakening of a realitionship. I learned that we love each other...a lot.
4. I learned that while my brain may feel ok, my body doesn't and I need to listen to it. I need to go slowly and have patience with myself. That nothing goes from 1-100 without all the other 98 numbers inbetween. I learned that even 5 months along, it's sitll ok to nap a couple of hours a day and spend time relaxing to recharge.
5. I learned that my relationship with my family is important. My realtionship with my Mom is at times difficult because of how different we are, but that when it comes down to it, we are similar also. I learned that my Grandma, all 89 years of her, will help out any way she can.
6. I learned that I could do a better job advocating for myself. Instead of letting myself get to the crying every day stage, I could have admitted to the plastic surgeon any number of times that I needed help. Instead of letting Pete do my talking, I could habe been more vocal about my needs and wants and sought out a solution.
7. I learned that I do much better when I have an action plan of how to fix things. Whether it's validating emotions and what I know to be true around them or planning on exercising on certain days, it's a plan.
I know that there's way more that I could list out. But those are the big ones. I suppose that if I posted again in July 2014 (which I'm sure to do) I'll have more things that I've learned.
Monday, December 09, 2013
Admissions and Limitations
Saturday was spent hibernating in the deep freeze of Minnesota. Love the cold wintery weather with snow. But high temps that never get above zero? Um no thanks.
So between laundry, crochet, baking, House of Cards in Netflix and my snugly puppy, I never left the house. In return, there was a list of other things that I should have done. I just didn't.
At times, I think I have bounds of energy and I tackle that to do list in the spirit of an athlete. Friday, I shopped...for 7 hours. Grocery, clothes, crafts and Christmas. Ran home, helped Pete cook dinner and was in bed by 10pm. I had a similar, if yet indoors, list for Saturday. But I did none of it. Not because I didn't want to, but because I had no energy or motivation to do it.
About 1pm, I took a shower so I could feel clean and change into clean PJs (really just one of Pete's old long sleeved shirts and flannel pants). But in the shower I thought about how much I wanted to sit in the living room and watch the twinkling light of the tree. And how I usually spend the day after Thanksgiving putting it up. And how it's now well past Thanksgiving and I stare at an empty space and dog toys.
What I realized was sad. I didn't have the motivation to wrestle that tree up and decorate it. Oh yes, I could muster the energy to do it today. But I'd be in a heap the rest if the day. And more importantly to Pete, that damn tree would stay up until Valentines Day when Pete would take it down out of frustration. It's not fair to him or me to do that. So I made the call to not put up the tree this year. And I shared this with Pete when he got home. He was very sweet and said that he'd get me a tabletop tree that fols out so it's just set and plug in, but I told him no need.
I don't know, maybe it's a positive thing, this realization of my limits. Maybe it's good that I not only realize them, but stick to them. And maybe, a part of me wants my superhuman self back.
Wednesday, December 04, 2013
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....
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....
Monday, November 18, 2013
I Need To Get It Together
Somewhere, along the way I lost the me who was pretty organized and on top of it all. Maybe I really did lose a whole bunch of brain cells the 2 months of sitting watching reality TV after surgery. Who knows?
I've randomly gone to the gym here and there, but nothing consistent. I am attending physical therapy though and doing exercises at home. Last week I felt my lower abs engage for the first time since prior to surgery. It. Was. Awesome.
I've both watched what I ate and gone back to trick or treating my own fridge for chocolate. I hover somewhere around 209. Not happy about it. But I'm also not beating myself up over it at this point.
I work from home most days so I'm more relaxed, less make up and have hair that sticks up in random places. But I also have counseling appointments, physical therapy appointments, staff meetings and other random meetings that I have to go to each week. So I feel LESS organized and relaxed in some ways.
I am doing really good in the relaxation area though. I've rediscovered crocheting and how relaxing and rewarding it is to craft. I've done a few Christmas presents, some scarves for myself and I'm working on a big ol blanket.
My goals do include getting back to the gym on a regular basis. I think I'm waiting for life to get easier, but my realization is that it's not going to get better than this for a while. So...here goes:
Goals:
Get to the gym 3 days in the next week for at least an hour at a time.
Eat cleaner. More veggies and lean protein and less cheese, muddy buddies and chocolate.
Plan week on Monday mornings and post calendar for Pete so he knows where to find me.
I'm using this as my accountability partner for the week.
I've randomly gone to the gym here and there, but nothing consistent. I am attending physical therapy though and doing exercises at home. Last week I felt my lower abs engage for the first time since prior to surgery. It. Was. Awesome.
I've both watched what I ate and gone back to trick or treating my own fridge for chocolate. I hover somewhere around 209. Not happy about it. But I'm also not beating myself up over it at this point.
I work from home most days so I'm more relaxed, less make up and have hair that sticks up in random places. But I also have counseling appointments, physical therapy appointments, staff meetings and other random meetings that I have to go to each week. So I feel LESS organized and relaxed in some ways.
I am doing really good in the relaxation area though. I've rediscovered crocheting and how relaxing and rewarding it is to craft. I've done a few Christmas presents, some scarves for myself and I'm working on a big ol blanket.
My goals do include getting back to the gym on a regular basis. I think I'm waiting for life to get easier, but my realization is that it's not going to get better than this for a while. So...here goes:
Goals:
Get to the gym 3 days in the next week for at least an hour at a time.
Eat cleaner. More veggies and lean protein and less cheese, muddy buddies and chocolate.
Plan week on Monday mornings and post calendar for Pete so he knows where to find me.
I'm using this as my accountability partner for the week.
Thursday, November 14, 2013
Feeeeeeeelings......
Woah, woah Woah, feeeeeeeelings... (is it only me that has that song in my head?)
So feelings. Powerful things. Learning a lot about them. Mostly - there is no such thing as a bad feeling. What we can and should change is how we deal with them. And what I'm learning is that we come from a generation of people who wasn't all that great at allowing feelings and modeling good behavior with regard to feelings.
I read this quote from Bears receiver Brandon Marshall about Incognito bullying a team mate:
So as an adult, I've learned that my feelings are valid at the time that I'm experiencing them. I'm ok to feel that way. But I can be positive and proactive and learn how to take control of the feelings. I'm the person who creates BIG balloons of details about something I perceive in my head, when I could stem that process by just asking questions about the issue.
Pete sells Body By Vi and has a multitude of customers. He often times offers locals not only the shakes, but personal help in starting a weight loss/fitness program. At times it's very demanding. In the last week, there were several days that he spent more time with a couple of customers than me. After a few days I started building this story in my head about how he didn't want to spend time with me, how he was leaving me behind, how he would rather be out with others. In the past, I would have let this go and build and build. But this time, I chose to just tell Pete that I was feeling lonely and left out. 1 sentence. No confrontation. No big story. You know what happened? He validated my feelings, realized that he hadn't made time for me and we planned a night out. Solved.
It. Was. Awesome.
It felt powerful and calming and loving.
So, the next time you catch yourself telling someone (child or adult) to shake off their feelings, think about how you're doing it. Can you validate the feeling and share ways to deal with it in a positive and loving manner? Try it!
So feelings. Powerful things. Learning a lot about them. Mostly - there is no such thing as a bad feeling. What we can and should change is how we deal with them. And what I'm learning is that we come from a generation of people who wasn't all that great at allowing feelings and modeling good behavior with regard to feelings.
I read this quote from Bears receiver Brandon Marshall about Incognito bullying a team mate:
“Look at it from this standpoint,” Marshall said. “Take a little boy and a little girl. A little boy falls down and the first thing we say as parents is ‘Get up, shake it off. You’ll be OK. Don’t cry.’ A little girl falls down, what do we say? ‘It’s going to be OK.’ We validate their feelings. So right there from that moment, we’re teaching our men to mask their feelings, to not show their emotions.Wow. He's right. And I think that we not only do that with little boys, but we also do it with little girls. We do it because we don't want kids thinking that every small thing is a big issue and getting upset about it. But we, because I've done it too, go about it the wrong way at times.
So as an adult, I've learned that my feelings are valid at the time that I'm experiencing them. I'm ok to feel that way. But I can be positive and proactive and learn how to take control of the feelings. I'm the person who creates BIG balloons of details about something I perceive in my head, when I could stem that process by just asking questions about the issue.
Pete sells Body By Vi and has a multitude of customers. He often times offers locals not only the shakes, but personal help in starting a weight loss/fitness program. At times it's very demanding. In the last week, there were several days that he spent more time with a couple of customers than me. After a few days I started building this story in my head about how he didn't want to spend time with me, how he was leaving me behind, how he would rather be out with others. In the past, I would have let this go and build and build. But this time, I chose to just tell Pete that I was feeling lonely and left out. 1 sentence. No confrontation. No big story. You know what happened? He validated my feelings, realized that he hadn't made time for me and we planned a night out. Solved.
It. Was. Awesome.
It felt powerful and calming and loving.
So, the next time you catch yourself telling someone (child or adult) to shake off their feelings, think about how you're doing it. Can you validate the feeling and share ways to deal with it in a positive and loving manner? Try it!
Friday, November 08, 2013
Long Time; No See
So Monday morning I went off to my counseling appointment. We talked more about what I wanted out of counseling and less about the past, if that makes sense. More about where I am and less about how I got there.
She was happy that I blog and seem to keep a running list of what's going on with me at any given time. And at the end she gave me an assignment of sorts. To label my feelings throughout the week, explore them and come to some conclusion about them. To learn what things I can change and what I can't. She also asked that I print my blogs so she can see them.
You know what happened? I got a blogging block. Seriously.
So let's explore this. I blogged in the beginning to track what I was going through. I blog to get things out of my head, onto paper and so that I can review them later. I blog to help myself and others. Yet blogging so someone can read it and tell me what I'm going through may not be the right way to do it? Totally scary.
So I stopped blogging (as evidenced by my lack of posts).
A couple of times this week I've had anxiety and I get all "I want to jump out of my skin" and pace a bit and my mind goes from 45 mph to 145 mph and speeds away from me. A couple of the times I talked it over in my head (I swear this is a good thing, not an "I hear voices talking to me" thing). A couple times I talked myself out of it. Meaning I had this story all built up in my head about something that Pete was doing and talked myself through a conversation with him about it (because I don't like confrontation). When I realized that I maybe making a way bigger thing out of it than needs to be and that I may very well be wrong. So I backed my brain down to 45 mph and just asked him. I was wrong. Solved.
But there was also a time this week that I get very anxiety ridden and Pete wasn't home and I got tearful about feeling very very alone again and it overwhelmed me. I started trying to think about it all and suddenly remembered the sheet about the feelings. Perfect! I literally ran to it to start writing. And in the quick few word statements that I made I quickly tamped that anxiety way down. Maybe it' documenting it? Maybe it's learning a new way to address it? But the specific items on the sheet worked well for me.
So it's Friday afternoon and I hope you're all out having fun. I have goals this weekend and coming week:
1. Tomorrow I'm meeting with women at Bright Pink in Minneapolis. I am determined to keep meeting women who are high risk for breast cancer and or have had surgery and make some connections. They don't have to be perfect, just connections.
2. I'm going to enjoy ice cream date with Pete tomorrow to tour a local ice cream shop.
3. I'm going to take time to relax and crochet.
4. I'm going to go to the gym at least once.
5. I'm going to plan my week with hopefully less in and out of the house as this week.
She was happy that I blog and seem to keep a running list of what's going on with me at any given time. And at the end she gave me an assignment of sorts. To label my feelings throughout the week, explore them and come to some conclusion about them. To learn what things I can change and what I can't. She also asked that I print my blogs so she can see them.
You know what happened? I got a blogging block. Seriously.
So let's explore this. I blogged in the beginning to track what I was going through. I blog to get things out of my head, onto paper and so that I can review them later. I blog to help myself and others. Yet blogging so someone can read it and tell me what I'm going through may not be the right way to do it? Totally scary.
So I stopped blogging (as evidenced by my lack of posts).
A couple of times this week I've had anxiety and I get all "I want to jump out of my skin" and pace a bit and my mind goes from 45 mph to 145 mph and speeds away from me. A couple of the times I talked it over in my head (I swear this is a good thing, not an "I hear voices talking to me" thing). A couple times I talked myself out of it. Meaning I had this story all built up in my head about something that Pete was doing and talked myself through a conversation with him about it (because I don't like confrontation). When I realized that I maybe making a way bigger thing out of it than needs to be and that I may very well be wrong. So I backed my brain down to 45 mph and just asked him. I was wrong. Solved.
But there was also a time this week that I get very anxiety ridden and Pete wasn't home and I got tearful about feeling very very alone again and it overwhelmed me. I started trying to think about it all and suddenly remembered the sheet about the feelings. Perfect! I literally ran to it to start writing. And in the quick few word statements that I made I quickly tamped that anxiety way down. Maybe it' documenting it? Maybe it's learning a new way to address it? But the specific items on the sheet worked well for me.
So it's Friday afternoon and I hope you're all out having fun. I have goals this weekend and coming week:
1. Tomorrow I'm meeting with women at Bright Pink in Minneapolis. I am determined to keep meeting women who are high risk for breast cancer and or have had surgery and make some connections. They don't have to be perfect, just connections.
2. I'm going to enjoy ice cream date with Pete tomorrow to tour a local ice cream shop.
3. I'm going to take time to relax and crochet.
4. I'm going to go to the gym at least once.
5. I'm going to plan my week with hopefully less in and out of the house as this week.
Wednesday, October 30, 2013
Counseling; Day One
So today is day 3 on an antidepressant and day 1 of counseling.
The antidepressant is going to take some getting used to and some time to build up in my body. The first day I took it in the morning at the suggestion of the pharmacist. It made me sleepy and it really made me nauseated for about 4 hours. No good. So I started taking it at night. It's working better. But last night I woke up in the middle of the night extremely thirsty. I drank water but it made my stomach worse and I was awake for a bit.
All morning I kept telling myself I was dumb for scheduling counseling; I really didn't need counseling. Then I wondered if the emotional crying and stuff was simply my normal menstrual cycle? After all the signs that I used to have are gone/changed since surgery and I have a harder time knowing my body signals.
Pete pointed out to me that I tend to want things to fit in categories, be specific. Not everything can be categorized. Maybe some of my anxiety and issues with this is that I can't categorize it all. He's s smart man and I realized that maybe he's right. I may not fit in a category, but it doesn't mean I'm not part of of the larger group.
Today's counseling session was spent learning my story, my family history and my life. At the end she asked me to think of goals that I'd like to work towards so that I know when I'm making progress. She also commented that I'm pretty hard on myself and I should think about interrupting the negative self talk and allowing myself grace. When she said that I about fell to the floor. It was like she knew that I was trying to live in grace for 2013. It was some confirmation that maybe things do happen for a reason and choosing that word was no accident for 2013.
So I'm going to keep a note on my phone and start recording some of the goals I want to achieve and where I want to see myself. Some of the things I'd like to learn and how I can be a better version of me.
The antidepressant is going to take some getting used to and some time to build up in my body. The first day I took it in the morning at the suggestion of the pharmacist. It made me sleepy and it really made me nauseated for about 4 hours. No good. So I started taking it at night. It's working better. But last night I woke up in the middle of the night extremely thirsty. I drank water but it made my stomach worse and I was awake for a bit.
All morning I kept telling myself I was dumb for scheduling counseling; I really didn't need counseling. Then I wondered if the emotional crying and stuff was simply my normal menstrual cycle? After all the signs that I used to have are gone/changed since surgery and I have a harder time knowing my body signals.
Pete pointed out to me that I tend to want things to fit in categories, be specific. Not everything can be categorized. Maybe some of my anxiety and issues with this is that I can't categorize it all. He's s smart man and I realized that maybe he's right. I may not fit in a category, but it doesn't mean I'm not part of of the larger group.
Today's counseling session was spent learning my story, my family history and my life. At the end she asked me to think of goals that I'd like to work towards so that I know when I'm making progress. She also commented that I'm pretty hard on myself and I should think about interrupting the negative self talk and allowing myself grace. When she said that I about fell to the floor. It was like she knew that I was trying to live in grace for 2013. It was some confirmation that maybe things do happen for a reason and choosing that word was no accident for 2013.
So I'm going to keep a note on my phone and start recording some of the goals I want to achieve and where I want to see myself. Some of the things I'd like to learn and how I can be a better version of me.
Thursday, October 24, 2013
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.
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.
Wednesday, October 23, 2013
207; Admitting Defeat
If I'm nothing else here, I'm honest about what's going on in my life. I want to know a year from now that I got through this and how I did it. So I'm saring the darker side of me, recording it all here. I'm hopeful that I can come back to this and see how far I've come.
My plastic surgeon thinks that my left nipple will heal ok. He thinks that the healing that I see as problematic is normal and I just need to ride it out. If something does happen, he can create a new one. And with that I am at once relieved and angry. I'm angry that I lost part of it and that it's just ok. I'm relieved that I'm not losing more of it. This is not how I imagined recovery.
He also shot up the scar on my chest with cortisone. He says that he uses a tiny needle so it doesn't hurt. But damn, did that little needle hurt and the solution hurt going in. It feels like there is constant pressure on my sternum normally and with that it was very irritated.
I still have to keep all my scars covered with tape, a silicone pad or this Scar Guard product that I brush on. I make raised, red, unappealing scars. Just another notch in the bedpost of things that didn't go as planned with surgery.
Yesterday when I got home from the doctor's appointment I was mentally exhausted. I had a headache, my chest hurt and all I wanted to do was sleep. My insomnia has been rearing it's ugly head and I'm averaging about 3-4 hours a night. Even though my "office" is in the bedroom across the hall from mine, it was to far away yesterday. The thought of pushing the button to turn on the computer was more that I could physically do. The idea that I'd have to use my brain for something other than sleep and taking migraine meds was impossible. So I didn't.
When Pete got home, I had been laying in bed, sleeping off and on and taking migraine meds. He asked me how I was doing and paused. He finally asked if I thought that I was depressed. He says that I'm holding back with him and not telling him what's going through my head. It makes him feel like an outsider in my world. This is not my intention and I got angry. I believe that potentially, if I say all these things out loud they are true. And having them be true is scary. Very scary.
So I made an appointment with my doctor today about my insomnia, my migraines and to talk about the possibility that I am depressed. I admit defeat in this emotional battle of being a Previvor and having surgery. Defeat.
My plastic surgeon thinks that my left nipple will heal ok. He thinks that the healing that I see as problematic is normal and I just need to ride it out. If something does happen, he can create a new one. And with that I am at once relieved and angry. I'm angry that I lost part of it and that it's just ok. I'm relieved that I'm not losing more of it. This is not how I imagined recovery.
He also shot up the scar on my chest with cortisone. He says that he uses a tiny needle so it doesn't hurt. But damn, did that little needle hurt and the solution hurt going in. It feels like there is constant pressure on my sternum normally and with that it was very irritated.
I still have to keep all my scars covered with tape, a silicone pad or this Scar Guard product that I brush on. I make raised, red, unappealing scars. Just another notch in the bedpost of things that didn't go as planned with surgery.
Yesterday when I got home from the doctor's appointment I was mentally exhausted. I had a headache, my chest hurt and all I wanted to do was sleep. My insomnia has been rearing it's ugly head and I'm averaging about 3-4 hours a night. Even though my "office" is in the bedroom across the hall from mine, it was to far away yesterday. The thought of pushing the button to turn on the computer was more that I could physically do. The idea that I'd have to use my brain for something other than sleep and taking migraine meds was impossible. So I didn't.
When Pete got home, I had been laying in bed, sleeping off and on and taking migraine meds. He asked me how I was doing and paused. He finally asked if I thought that I was depressed. He says that I'm holding back with him and not telling him what's going through my head. It makes him feel like an outsider in my world. This is not my intention and I got angry. I believe that potentially, if I say all these things out loud they are true. And having them be true is scary. Very scary.
So I made an appointment with my doctor today about my insomnia, my migraines and to talk about the possibility that I am depressed. I admit defeat in this emotional battle of being a Previvor and having surgery. Defeat.
Tuesday, October 22, 2013
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.
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.
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