This is perfect.
things
Things are hard, kind of. I’ve been feeling a lot lately and in a way I’m not used to anymore. I turned twenty-seven; I’m officially in my late twenties and I guess that means it’s time to grow up.
One of my best friends is getting married in a few months and is officially moving even farther away from me to be with her fiance and start a new job. My very best friend is moving out-of-state to be with her boyfriend. A few years ago, this would have crushed me. Now, I can at least acknowledge that this is part of being an adult; people leave, people do what’s best for them, and it doesn’t mean anything other than people are doing what’s best for them.
But it doesn’t make it any easier when I can’t look forward to my own future. It was easier to say these goodbyes – because distance changes things no matter what you do – when I could feel secure in what I have. Knowing I have my own life to live makes it a little easier to let go.
Except now, instead of knowing that I have my own relationship, my own plans, my own future, I face a future I can’t really determine. Since May 18th, my boyfriend’s brigade has lost five soldiers. Five sons, husbands, brothers, boyfriends, fathers. Five.
It’s not all about me. None of this is about me, except when it comes to the paralyzing fear of losing the person I love. Every time I hear about another loss, I think what if this was my life? knowing it very well could be.
People tell me not to pay attention to the news, but they don’t get that being aware gives me some small form of control. I spend most of my time knowing that at any moment something terrible could be happening, but every time I read an article, I have a brief (selfish) moment of knowing it wasn’t him. And then the sadness for that person’s family sets in and the worry starts all over. That fleeting moment, though, is why I will never stop paying attention.
Part of adulthood means letting go, letting people move on and live their lives. The problem is, my own life, insofar as it hinges upon my relationship with M and his being alive and okay, is up in the air until further notice. It’s hard to say goodbye and wish my friends well as they move on to bigger and better adventures, knowing that I can’t say the same for myself – and don’t know if I’ll ever be able to.
I know these are Things You Don’t Say, but I have to say them. It’s too much to keep hidden inside, and even though I am happy and things are good, it’s always in the back of my mind. I can’t just let it stay there.
things.
Apparently I haven’t posted in a month. Oops?
Since my last post, things have happened. Lots of things.
I welcomed my boyfriend back from a month and a half in an out-of-state training. He got a couple weeks off before he deployed so we were able to spend quite a bit of time together.
My parents and I threw the aforementioned boyfriend an amazing going-away party. I was pretty adamant against it at first, partially because I worried he’d hate an elaborate surprise party and mostly because I hate (like, with a passion) event planning. My parents did most of the work, but it totally kicked ass and he loved it.
I then sent said boyfriend away to a war zone. That’s an experience I’m glad I don’t have to relive. In doing so, however, I became friends with his colleague’s girlfriend so at least I have someone with whom to go through this.
My fellow FORCE ladies and I threw an event/fundraiser that went really well. We definitely beat the amount I made at the last fundraiser I did! It was pretty low-key, with a film screening, a few awesome raffle prizes, and drinks, and it pretty much went off without a hitch.
I had a surgery consultation with an out-of-state surgeon and booked a consult with another out-of-state surgeon. I’m pretty damn determined to get the surgery I want, come hell or high water. At this point, the only question is where I’ll go – but unless something insane happens, I’ll be going out of state. I think a plane ticket and hotel stay are worth my happiness and peace of mind.
My best friend (of almost 18 years!) and her husband gave birth to the most perfect, adorable baby ever. She was born this Saturday and I can’t wait to go visit in July. Tickets have been purchased and I’ve turned into the overly proud “auntie” and have already made her photo the wallpaper on my phone. <3
My baby brother is running for middle school president. Kid's got cojones! I never in a million years would’ve been able to do such a thing at that age. Maybe he’ll run for real president someday.
Every day, I think about writing here. I miss writing, like really writing, and I don’t know how to get back into it. I know this blog is a start and I want to be better at keeping it up.
& all the stupid lies I hide behind;
I wish more people would talk about the things people don’t talk about. I think the world would be a better place if we could all realize we’re not alone, we’re not crazy, we’re not weird.
I’ve been dealing with a lot lately, but it’s the kind of thing you don’t share with people. You might share it with people who get it, people who have been there – but you don’t tell anyone else.
Obviously, I’ve had to deal with BRCA stuff as usual. Close friends know about it, and although I can’t really say they understand, they’re working on really learning how it affects me and what it means to me. My other mutant friends get it, of course. But other than that, it’s not something I can just bring up to, say, my coworkers. If I’m having a bad day, I just need to keep it to myself because you don’t talk about medical problems in pleasant company. You especially don’t when the medical problems involve your breasts.
And then there’s the even harder one – anxiety. Anyone who reads this blog should know by now that I have a touch of the crazy. What’s worse is that my anxiety manifests itself in… special ways. The things I struggle with are hard to talk about, yet I happen to know a lot of people struggle with similar issues. But it’s not something people talk about. Those of us who have issues like this keep it hidden and feel like freaks. We’re afraid to mention it for fear of how people will react or the misguided advice they’ll give us.
Some days, this stuff is really, really hard. I process things by talking about them, but what do you do when the things you need to process are things you can’t talk about? I wish people could be honest about the fact that they struggle; everyone is going through something and I think we’d all feel less alone if we could just start sharing a little more.
now & then i think of all the times you screwed me over;
It occurred to me today that I’m going to be angry about a lot of things, and unfortunately there’s nothing I can do about it. I mean, I can accept my lot in life and do my best to move through it and be positive, but there’s nothing that will really change the core, fundamental believe that I’ve been screwed over.
I met with another surgeon today; I’ve been thinking a lot more seriously about surgery, about doing it this fall or winter. This particular surgeon is the one who did my mother’s reconstruction and one whom, according to the internet, does the one-step procedure I was hoping for.
Too bad homeboy totally shattered my dreams. He gave me a couple options, both of which he would be most comfortable with and most confident in.
1. Have a mastectomy. Leave it and be flat for WEEKS. Have tissue expanders put in and go through the tissue expansion process (basically, hard, turtle-shell like “implants” that they expand over 3 months and then swap out for a real implant). Keep nipples.
2. Get rid of nipples, but have expanders put in right away and go through expansion process – then go through nipple re-creation process which I feel like always looks terrible anyway.
Those are about as far from my “get everything done at once” dream as you can get. Losing my nipples? Being totally boobless for weeks? No thank you. He said that if I did my research and truly wanted a one-step or the normal expander process (but nipple-sparing), he would do it – but that I needed to be aware of the heightened risk of complications. I get it. He’s being cautious and wants the results to be as good as possible… but there’s a lot of in-between stuff in there I don’t think surgeons think about.
They think about the end result, how perfect their handiwork is. They – especially those that are male – probably aren’t thinking about the utter devastation of waking up with nothing. Or missing days and weeks and months of work. Or just not being yourself for such a long time because of all of this crap.
And then, as is wont to happen, I came across something about how it’s terrible to offer free formula to new mothers because breastfeeding is the only way to go and formula is the devil or whatever. And I know. I get it. Breastfeeding is the ideal choice. But am I going to really have to feel awful for the rest of my life because a genetic mutation caused me to remove my breasts and not breastfeed? Am I going to feel guilty and angry about it forever? Probably, at least until I can let it go.
I’m angry that these are my choices – remove my body parts or wait and pray I never get cancer even though my risk is 90%. I’m quite pissed, frankly. It’s not fair (and the little voice in my head says “but life’s not fair, suck it up”). It’s not something you just deal with and get over, and there will probably be repurcussions I’ll deal with my entire life.
It’s probably making me a strong person and all of that warm fuzzy crap. But sometimes? I just want to be pissed off and annoyed. Today is one of those days. Hopefully, I won’t have another for awhile.
at seventeen;
When I was seventeen, I wrote a novel.
That sounds a lot cooler than it really was; it was part of National Novel Writing Month (NaNoWriMo), which devotes the month of November to cranking out a 50,000-word novel. 2002 is the only year I completed the challenge, and I definitely remember days where I was just writing whatever came to mind because I just needed to hit a word count.
This November marks ten years, and I have yet to re-read the “novel” in its entirety. Over the years, I’ve sent it to a couple friends, both of whom came back with amazing compliments (I have awesome friends, and that was also only a year after I wrote it so everyone was rather young). After the way I’ve been feeling lately, I decided to dig it up and read it to see if there’s something there.
Somehow it’s both better and worse than I expected. I’m not wrong in thinking I can write, but it’s also very obvious I was seventeen. The character development is… lacking, and the amount of “telling” vs. “showing” is absurd. It also sent me back, immediately, to where I was at seventeen.
The main character is seventeen and was obviously based on myself, because what else does a seventeen-year-old have to write about? I wrote a lot about partying because I’d recently gotten drunk for the first time (a night I still think about fondly) and the main character’s boyfriend had a “big secret” which was something or other about drugs. Drugs were A Big Deal to me at seventeen. Her best male friend is so blatantly based on my high school neighbor/boyfriend/best friend/bane of my existence that it’s laughable. The boyfriend she meets in the book cries. I guess I was tired of emotionless guys when I wrote it, but there is nothing romantic about a guy you’ve been dating for a month crying all over you about his dad being a jerk.
And I switch viewpoints a lot. It’s a little exhausting; it’s very obvious when it’s switching because of the formatting and line breaks, but damn if it isn’t tiring to read.
I’m not very far in yet. I sent it to my Kindle and started reading it the other night, and it sort of solidified my dream of having a real book on a Kindle someday. And the thing is? While it’s all sorts of seventeen-year-old-girl ridiculous, it’s maybe not that bad. As in, maybe it’s salvageable. Even the little bit I’ve read so far has given me ideas of what else I could do with these characters, what else could happen, how else it could be written.
I forget how it all ends. I’m kind of excited to find out… and then maybe write it all over again and actually do something with this desire to write. I’m not deluded enough to think it would go anywhere, but it certainly doesn’t hurt to try.
it’s a big world & i’m old news to you;
I’ve had a lot on my mind lately and most of it is unpleasant. I feel like I’m regressing to my seventeen-year-old self or maybe my twenty-three-year-old self but either way it’s not great.
I’m worried that everyone is doing cooler stuff than I am.
Yeah, that sounds silly when I write it out. But honestly? I work with people who have done so much. People at my company have directed award-winning films, acted in independent films, been on television shows, worked as professional athletes, owned highly-rated local bars/restaurants, and lord knows what else. I? Have done nothing.
And I’m worried that, by virtue of everyone being cooler than me, no one is really going to like me.
It took until my last job to finally know the feeling of fitting in. I had a group of girlfriends in elementary school but I’m so far removed from that – and most of those people – that I don’t consider that to count. I had a group of friends in middle school – until they all decided the new girl was prettier and cooler and stopped saving a place for me at the lunch table (and, you know, speaking to me at all). I had friends in college but hung on the periphery of everyone else’s social groups and my study-abroad experience involved nearly the entire group disliking me. At my last job, it took months but suddenly I fit in and everyone liked me and it didn’t matter that they had been the cool kids in high school and the Greek kids in college and I had been the awkward loner. People just liked me. I always felt in the middle of things, like I was welcome and included and wanted.
I don’t want to give that up. Yet suddenly, I’m noticing how desperate I am and I hate that it probably comes through. I’m loud and I’m obnoxious and only half of it is because of my personality. The rest of it is because I’m afraid if I let myself fade into the background everyone will forget about me and I won’t matter anymore. I’ll be left out again. Because I don’t have a lot about me that’s interesting, it’s even worse.
For some reason, I also worry that if people really like someone else, that means they have less capacity to like me. If I’m not everyone’s favorite, that means they can’t like me at all – in my mind. The rational part of me knows it doesn’t work that way; the seventeen-year-old inside hasn’t learned that yet.
Because I have no definining characteristics, no exciting experiences to talk about or any discernable talent to speak of, I have to figure out how else to make people like me – and how else to feel like I matter. And sometimes it’s really, really hard.
Ten on Tuesday
Happy Tuesday! As usual, go link up for Ten on Tuesday, hosted by Chelsea at Roots and Rings.
1. How do you feel about April Fool’s Day? I don’t like it. I really don’t like pranks, for the most part, so it doesn’t really do it for me.
2. Do you like birds? They scare the crap out of me! I am seriously one of those people who will duck and run if a bird even seems like it’s swooping toward me. Sheer terror.
3. How often do you wear your hair in a ponytail? Whenever I’m lazy, so… fairly often. I try not to because my hair is weird and pieces of it stick out and look ridiculous if I put it in a ponytail, but sometimes it happens anyway.
4. Do you believe in love at first sight? Not especially. I believe you need to actually know a person to love them and you don’t know a person just from seeing them.
5. What is your favorite appetizer? Bruschetta is the first thing that comes to mind.
6. What is your favorite brand of heels? I don’t really love heels, to be honest. I have a few pairs of boots with heels that I wear, but actual shoes that are heels… not so much.
7. Are you a picky eater? Not as much as I used to be. Nowadays I definitely know my preferences, but I can suck it up and eat most things. I do have pretty averse reactions to seafood and a few other things, though.
8. Is there a tv show you like that nobody ever talks about? Ha, most of them! I watch a lot of Degrassi; no one normal watches that.
9. Do you prefer hot tea or cold tea? I wish I liked tea more. I’ll drink it if I have to, but I don’t really have a preference between hot or cold.
10. Gale or Peeta? (If you don’t know how to answer, read The Hunger Games.) Neither. Finnick all the way. If you don’t know who I’m talking about, read Catching Fire. Immediately.
Second BRCAversary
Two years ago, my life stopped. For a split second, I hung on the precipice between my old life and whatever my new life would be. Before that moment, I was the same person I’d been for almost twenty-five years; after that moment I had no idea who I’d be.
And then everything started again. I thought I’d never smile again, that this new life was the worst thing imaginable. Two years later, I realize I couldn’t have been more wrong.
A year ago I marveled at the fact that my fault genetics no longer made me cry. Two years out, I’ve realized that not only am I not crying, I’m not necessarily viewing it at as a negative. It’s something I think and talk about without dramatics, without giving it the power to destroy me. I worry about others’ reactions, but I’m able to have a sense of humor about it. I’m matter-of-fact; it often carries no more weight than the fact that I have an under-active thyroid.
Because of this gene mutation, I’ve realized the value of my life. I’ve met amazing, strong women who will be my friends for life. I’ve learned that I’m stronger than I thought, that while my life changed with my positive test results, it didn’t end.
Today is my two-year anniversary and it took me until 7:00 at night to remember the significance of the day. I feel like that’s progress. While I have a long road ahead of me (surgery, recovery, more surgery, dealing with passing the mutation to my children, and all the other things that come with BRCA), I’m happy. I’m normal. Things might be different, but I’m still me… just a little bit stronger.
Ten on Tuesday
I’m really bad at furniture and decorating and all of that, but… I’m talking about it anyway. Because it’s Tuesday and that’s what I do. This week’s questions are from Tina at Best of Times and hosted by Chelsea at Roots and Rings.
1. Ikea: over-hyped and confusing or genius furniture company? Pretty much somewhere in between. I’m not at the point in my life where I can talk crap about Ikea being cheap because I don’t exactly have nice furniture. And I do generally think it’s kind of awesome.
2. Your favorite interior-decorator-type person wants to makeover one room in your house. Which room do you choose and why? I don’t know who that person would be, but I think either my living room or bedroom. Probably the bedroom.
3. Describe the furniture in your childhood bedroom. Did you like it? Where is that furniture now? It wasn’t anything terribly exciting: a bed, two dressers, a desk with a chair, a book shelf. The bed is in my room now, as is the desk. The dressers are at my parents’ house. I’m not really sure what became of the shelf but I think it’s at my parents’, too. By “childhood” bedroom I actually mean “teenage” but whatever.
4. When you’re done with furniture, what do you do with it? Donate it to Goodwill OR Sell it on Craigslist OR Put it by the curb and hope the trash guys take it? I would start by trying to sell it or give it to someone, then donate it. I hate the idea of just leaving something by the curb. It makes me sad.
5. My Pinterest furniture style could best be described as
funky/eclectic
antique/shabby chic
modern/minimalist
so random and varied it’s undefinable
I… don’t know.
6. Name the most important furniture/toy in a toddler’s playroom. And why? I don’t think I’m qualified to answer this!
7. Your parents (or grandparents or other relative) are giving away all their furniture. Which piece do you really want? I want someone’s bed because I want a queen bed.
8. Your biggest furniture buying or home decorating regret? My lack of decorating. It’s only been the past year or two that I’ve actively tried to make things look good, but I still have a lot to learn.
9. $1000 gift card! Do you want it to Ethan Allen, ikea, Pottery Barn Kids? Not Pottery Barn Kids because I don’t have kids… but how about just regular Pottery Barn?
10. Bunk beds, loft beds, trundle beds, or canopy beds? Regular beds!
