We don’t grow by staying in our comfort zones. I know this very well. More than once, I have flipped my life over in the pursuit of growth. I have popped the bubble of familiarity and stepped out into the Wild Unknown. I have lost. Hurt. And gained so very much.
Every time, there’s the phase when everything is scary and nothing feels like it’s working. Like no matter how hard I try, it’s all strange and hard. Even as I’ve struggled, cried, and tried, I’ve always found my path. Little by little, the unfamiliar becomes comforting. Details emerge. New experiences elevate and inspire. And then, without really realizing it, there comes the moment when my feet are back underneath me. I start to meet this new version of myself. Routines form and lend a structure to life again. At a new level of experience and understanding, I continue on.
Comfort zones are lovely things. But I’ve never regretted leaping out into the unknown, scary and traumatic as it may have been. (And it was. It really was.)
Previous comfort zones I’ve left behind related to home. Now that I reflect on it, all of my previous leaps had to do with moving. Nashville to Brooklyn. A shared apartment to a place of my own (with 2 months in Scotland in between). My apartment to a house in New Jersey. But my address wasn’t the important part of any of those. All of those leaps were about who I called my home.
This time, instead of changing up routines, locations, and connections, I’m changing the ultimate home—my body. The home that’s been with me all along.
So this is very familiar territory and yet wholly new all at once. Experience tells me the phrase “no way around what you’ve gotta go through” is the right mindset. I don’t know how I’ll feel in my “new” body. I’m reminding myself that my body has been changing since the moment it came into being. I see age in my skin. My shape, as previously discussed, has changed over the years. It’s the suddenness of this change that feels so jarring.
Well. That, and I’ll lose sensation in a very sensitive part of my body. This is not a “boob job.” This is a mastectomy, which means nerves will get cut. My doc has promised to spare as much as she can, but I’m expecting to lose all feeling in my breasts. That is basically impossible to prep for. It makes me sad.
I’ve never fed a human with these breasts, and yet they are mine. They are part of my sexuality, sensuality, and identity as a woman. They will still be mine, but not the same. I think it’s okay to mourn and say goodbye.
This entry is being written on the eve of surgery. I’ve been on a roller coaster for the past month. Busy with so many things. Sad and dreading this.
In the past week, I’ve been calm and happy. I’ve taken special care to savor every bit of my days. Appreciate working out, stretching, and walking the dogs—all things I can’t do in recovery. I’ve taken the week as vacation. Wet to a brewery in Brooklyn with my dear friend on Sunday. Threw a party for my women’s circle on Tuesday. Went solo to a day spa on Wednesday. Had an indulgent date night/dinner on Thursday. Saturday, I went for a final run and then lay in the cold water of my dogs’ splash pad while they licked my face. Pure joy, imo.
With one more sleep to go, I feel like I’m going to feel scared tomorrow before the anesthesia hits. (Remember, I have never had anesthesia!) I sense that will be the time when I have to dig deep, breathe slow, and just get on with it.
Reminds me of going to camp with my 8th graders years ago. We took our Brooklyn middle schoolers to a nature/adventure camp overnight as their “senior” trip. It was two days of fun and adventure in the woods. One such adventure was a harness swing. That thing was suspended about 30’ in the air at its peak. You harnessed in, and your group pulled the rope to haul you up. Then, you had to pull the release to go into free-fall before the slack ran out. Then, you were swinging through the trees with a beautiful view.
The kids made me go first. I couldn’t let them down.
Up there, my thought was, holy shit this is high. But once I was in place and they were cheering me on, I knew there was only one thing to do: pull that damn cord. No thinking, no hesitation. They needed me to be brave and show them it was doable. So I took a quick breath and got on with it.
No second guessing tomorrow. No way around, so let’s get it going.
Hopefully, by the time this posts, I’ll be through the fog and aches enough to have written a little more. But I will not push myself on that expectation. I am called to Hermit right now, and I will heed that as long as it feels right. Soon enough, though, I know I’ll have more musings. This will indeed be a bit much of an ordeal, but I’m strong as hell. I am a bit much. I got this.
You got this too. Whatever “this” is for you. I know you do!
So go back and drop comments in the links for each post, if you haven’t already. I’ll use those anonymous thoughts as fodder for new topics. And in the meantime, be kind to yourself, friends. You really are doing amazing things with this whole life business. Keep shining. Keep loving. I’ll see you soon.
YOUR TURN
Ask me literally anything. I cannot wait to see what this yields!