They say your past shapes your future. You either learn from it, or grow from it and it constantly shapes the person you will become tomorrow. Parts of it you wish you could forget, while others remain timeless memories to cherish always. By definition past means "gone by in time and no longer existing". Our past is behind us, unable to be changed. But what happens when situations, in combination with the knowledge of the past, envokes fear. Fear that obstacles we once overcame have the possibility to resurrface, and battles we once won become new fights to fight?? Anything is possible. Does such a realization give you a head start or an advantage? Or does this fear cripple you and keep you from making decisions that have the potential to better you in some way, shape or form?
Truth is, I'm scared. This journey has been more than imagined. And while I've made it through all the lumpectomies, mammograms, diagnostics, mastectomy, tissue expansion and breast reconstruction, the fear remains. But this time it's for an entirely different reason. I made it through the worst parts, and while I was scared, I was never undecided on which road to take. I continued onward looking towards that finish line. I knew what needed done, I knew my future depended on it, and I knew I could make it. And I did!!! I am bulletproof. Or am I?
Lately I've been wearing a strong face, laughing through my fears and suffering in silence. I've written this blog many times over in my head, unable to put it into writing for the world to see. I've been transparent and open up until now. Why shut down now?! I am not alone and neither are you. No one should suffer alone, and no one should allow themselves to.
Last week I saw my plastic surgeon to address what turned out to be absesses along my suture line. My body gave up on trying to absorb my stitches and decided pushing them out would be a better idea. Except they had no way out, and instead festered. After 20 minutes of digging, squeezing, and pulling what looked like fishing line out of insicion, I was thankful for my lack of sensation. Aside from this little hiccup thing one and two are healing up nicely.
I've reached a fork in the road and must decide which road to take as I continue into the next steps of my journey. I've always been very confident in my choices and generally know exactly what I want. When trying to come to a conclusion I've always been great at doing research, and weighing my options. But what happens when there is no right or wrong answer?
My skin is thin. This is something of a concern that I'm reminded of at every appointment. It was the reason my inscions healed slowly after the mastectomy and it is now the reason you can see every ripple in my implant,and every differentiation between the implant, alloderm and my muscle.
My plastic surgeon has recommended I gain weight so we can harvest fat and lipofill away the imperfections. This is a procedure that is often done on small frammed mastectomy patients. I've done the research and the results leave beautiful, more natural looking "breasts". I struggle with this idea for many reasons and am torn on so many levels.
I've been avoiding making a decision by ignoring the reality all together. When I begin to weigh my options I'm overtaken with anxiety, fear, and even emabrassement. Such a procedure means another road, and another surgery. Truthfully I am ready to be done. I am angry with myself for being a baby while others are fighting bigger fights. I've already won the biggest leg of the race. I wonder if these ideas of wanting to be done could hinder me from continuing onward and achieving a physical appearance that I could look in the mirror and be happy about. At this point in my life I struggle with this a bit. My body has changed a lot in the past year and I'm adjusting. My confidence currently corresponds to whether or not I'm wearing a bra. Is this something I want to feel forever? Will I learn to rock the ripples and become ok with them and the imperfections showing through my skin? Or do I fight for the perfection that my surgeon wants to give?? After everything, do I owe it to myself to get to a point where I am able to love the new foobs? Or do I throw in the towel and learn to love what I currently have just because I want to be done? You can see how my mind has me running in circles. Neither choice is wrong or right, and it is a choice that only I can make. I wish it was a decision I could make.
Truthfully, the idea of gaining weight frightens me. I have struggled my entire life with eating disorders. And while you can overcome and take control of such a mental health disease, it doesn't ever fully go away. It is a lifetime battle of being stronger than the small voices inside your head. About 3 years ago I had a relapse. I had gained weight from the infertility treatments of trying to conceive another baby, and I stumbled..hard. Stress was put on my marriage, and I ended up in counseling and was taking 40mg of Prozac a day. I was finally able to take hold and began my road to recovery. I will never forget the day I shattered my scale on my back porch with tears streaming down my face. I was able to stop taking prozac, began running again, ate healthy and was committed to making strong my new skinny. I fought hard and lost weight the healthy way. When I reached my goal I celebrated by getting this tattoo. What looks like an abstract peacock feather to the world, is deep and powerful to me. The black portion of the "eye" is the NEDA symbol, and the quick of the feather that runs down my spine reads "to thrive in the face of suffering".
For the first time in my life I felt confident in my skin. I worked so hard to get there. To be healthy, and strong both mentally and physically. I stopped being ashamed of my body and embraced it with confidence. This is the same confidence that allowed me to run through Chicago in my underwear for the children's tumor foundation. Being surrounded by men and women of all ages, and body types, putting all insecurities aside for charity is a feeling I won't soon forget.
I have remained confident through all the changes and have overcome many obstacles this year. But I admit, I fear gaining weight. I am affraid of falling back into old habits. I am not sure I am strong enough to start over again. But at least I am at a point where I am able to admit to such. I like to think that alone puts me two steps ahead in the right direction.
My plastic surgeon has recommended I gain weight so we can harvest fat and lipofill away the imperfections. This is a procedure that is often done on small frammed mastectomy patients. I've done the research and the results leave beautiful, more natural looking "breasts". I struggle with this idea for many reasons and am torn on so many levels.
I've been avoiding making a decision by ignoring the reality all together. When I begin to weigh my options I'm overtaken with anxiety, fear, and even emabrassement. Such a procedure means another road, and another surgery. Truthfully I am ready to be done. I am angry with myself for being a baby while others are fighting bigger fights. I've already won the biggest leg of the race. I wonder if these ideas of wanting to be done could hinder me from continuing onward and achieving a physical appearance that I could look in the mirror and be happy about. At this point in my life I struggle with this a bit. My body has changed a lot in the past year and I'm adjusting. My confidence currently corresponds to whether or not I'm wearing a bra. Is this something I want to feel forever? Will I learn to rock the ripples and become ok with them and the imperfections showing through my skin? Or do I fight for the perfection that my surgeon wants to give?? After everything, do I owe it to myself to get to a point where I am able to love the new foobs? Or do I throw in the towel and learn to love what I currently have just because I want to be done? You can see how my mind has me running in circles. Neither choice is wrong or right, and it is a choice that only I can make. I wish it was a decision I could make.
Truthfully, the idea of gaining weight frightens me. I have struggled my entire life with eating disorders. And while you can overcome and take control of such a mental health disease, it doesn't ever fully go away. It is a lifetime battle of being stronger than the small voices inside your head. About 3 years ago I had a relapse. I had gained weight from the infertility treatments of trying to conceive another baby, and I stumbled..hard. Stress was put on my marriage, and I ended up in counseling and was taking 40mg of Prozac a day. I was finally able to take hold and began my road to recovery. I will never forget the day I shattered my scale on my back porch with tears streaming down my face. I was able to stop taking prozac, began running again, ate healthy and was committed to making strong my new skinny. I fought hard and lost weight the healthy way. When I reached my goal I celebrated by getting this tattoo. What looks like an abstract peacock feather to the world, is deep and powerful to me. The black portion of the "eye" is the NEDA symbol, and the quick of the feather that runs down my spine reads "to thrive in the face of suffering". 
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