Suicide Survivor Support Group/Band of Misfits

So last Tuesday I attended my first support group meeting. I had realized the weekend before that my state of mind was a bit out of my control when I laid in the bathtub Max took his life in and sobbed uncontrollably after a night of binge drinking. Yes, official rock bottom. So...Children and Family Services, here i come.

I was having a relatively good day, meaning I had gotten out of bed, hadn't cried or had a panic attack and hadn't dared check my dwindling bank account to see how long it would take for me to be completely destitute. I was wary of how this meeting would affect my mood, scared of what kind of people would be there and how I would feel about being in this kind of group setting. But I made a commitment to myself to go and so I went.

 For more info on how your help can change my life in a positive way, visit my GoFundMe page at https://www.gofundme.com/roses-for-the-roses 
I am continually humbled and grateful for your kindness and am still in need, so very hard to admit. But anyway,,,

Coincidentally, the meeting was directly across the street from the first building Max and I lived in and faced our old balcony. When I looked up at our old place, I saw that there was a "W" flag hanging from it, representing our World Series winning Cubs. Of all the balconies on that side of the street, that one made me nostalgic for the happy times spent with Max. Maybe it was him saying "I'm here, it's going to be ok. This is where you belong."

I walked in and two sweet older men greeted me warmly and directed me to where I needed to meet with the mediator before group for an introduction and information packet. There were 7 of us including 2 mediators, one of whom had lost a wife and another who had a sister who had attempted suicide but had not succeeded. Not sure that is comforting. The despair after a failed attempt must be unbearable and such a struggle.

The rest of the group was made up of two young women who had lost brothers, an older man who had lost his wife 3 years prior, a man about my age who coincidentally lost his wife the same day that Max had purchased his firearm and began his final descent. There was a woman a bit older than me that as the time passed, I learned had lost her husband in a similar way while she was home and had experienced many of the struggles I am now facing emotionally and financially, having also married into a broken family where bitterness and sadness prevailed.  And then there was me..the newbie.

We started the session by stating our names and who we had lost and when we lost them. The man my age and I had the most recent losses, just months ago. The others ranged from as long as 5 years ago and as early as a year ago. I don't know how I feel about these stats. Will I still be here 5 years from now? Still with unanswered questions and panic attacks and out of control emotions? The ones who had been there longer told us newbies that the first 6 months to a year are beyond crippling, the hardest days to bear and get through. I know all too well that this is true.

There were some very intriguing points of view, from anger, to guilt, to sadness, to confusion. It definitely forced me to think of things from different points of view, knowing that none were wrong or right, but just were. There was an overlying sadness among us, each of us wanting to feel something, that we weren't crazy, weren't alone, weren't navigating these strange waters alone. Part of the time felt like I was looking at myself from a distance, watching myself try to make sense of my new world and watching myself tread water in a sea of total confusion. I realized that I will never be the same person I was before December 19th, 2016 and I will never look at life the same way. I, and all of us in that meeting will forever be scarred and broken. We may begin to compartmentalize life into different categories, but what we had gone through will never be completely understood or justified.

I am looking forward to returning next week and diving deeper into the psyches of my fellow lost souls, and learning from them how to move through this new life of mine with grace and compassion for myself. What i did learn was that suicide is an ugly and indiscriminate monster, and those of us that have been touched by it are a weird and interesting bunch. Too many of us a party will surely have them running for the doors.

I have not even begun to heal. This I know. I have a long road to a sort of wellness that is tolerable. I will fight to get there, and I will embrace my fellow lost souls with all I have to make sure they know they are not alone, and hope to gain the same in return.  That's all I can do and hope for some change or alteration in my new minds view. Our band of misfits will charge on.

I will continue to discuss this group as time goes on and hope to be able to address some questions or concerns. Time does not heal all wounds I'm certain, but it does force you to tend to them regularly just to get by.

As long as that W flag flies across the street, I will feel like you are watching over me.  #flythewforMax

lastly,
I'd like to enclose a copy of the flyer for the group I went to. If you or someone you know is contemplating suicide  or are a survivor of suicide, please reach out for help. It is there. You are not alone. Please please reach out. Thank you to Children and Family Services for providing this service free of charge.

See their flyer here
http://tspn.org/wp-content/uploads/2016/03/0118-FCS_Survivors-of-Suicide-Rack-Card_2.pdf#page=1&zoom=auto,-261,648

Thank you for all of your love and support..Go Fund Me and Checking In

Hi friends,

I want to thank my friend Amy for sharing my story and providing a place for friends and family to help me in my time of need. I've been in this position financially once before and I am humbled and overwhelmed to be here again. There are no words to describe the uncertainty I feel for my future after losing my husband Max to suicide. I hope that this blog helps to raise awareness for mental illness and suicide prevention. I have so much more to blog about and promise to continue to share my story with you, however painful. My goal the past couple of weeks was to get through my first Valentine's Day without Max since 2008.  I will begin planning a memorial for Max after tax season as I have much to still work through wrapping up our personal and business losses from last year. Having to file jointly "with a deceased spouse" is a reality that is hard to swallow.  So many things I can't unsee or unfeel.  My thoughts are scattered but I will soon begin to get them sorted again and put on paper soon. In the meantime, thank you to all of you for continuing to support me and share my story. I am beyond grateful. You can read more of my story and get an update on my current situation HERE.

 https://www.gofundme.com/roses-for-the-roseshttps://www.gofundme.com/roses-for-the-roses

Grieving in Music City..A Musical Remembrance of Max

Way back in 2009, Max and I visited Nashville for the first time and it was love at first listen. Two hours in a honky tonk and we were sold. There is just something about live music that is magical, transformative, energizing. It can make you dance, laugh, cry, think. Take you to places like nothing else can. Similar to certain scents, certain songs will always remind you of a person, a place, an event.

Music has always been a huge driving force in my life and I have danced with friends, family, lovers, strangers, even pets. When I met Max, he shared my love of music and welcomed my late night dance parties. We spent almost ten years dancing to anything and everything that moved us, physically and emotionally. How I loved him for entertaining my love of  The Bee Gees, Prince, 90s rap, Country and so much more....We discovered Zac Brown Band together and he introduced me to Michael Franti and Spearhead, two musical influences that forever changed and affected us through times of pain, illness, depression, happiness, love, friendship.  We saw Air Supply on a whim and began years of traveling to see them play in casinos from Chicago to Indiana to Michigan to Nashville.  When I think of the concerts we have seen, the list is expansive, from Neil Diamond to Prince to John Mayer to Barry Manilow.  Hours spent at piano bars and honky tonks and street festivals.

Our main song was "Lookin' For Love" by Johnny Lee. The first time we danced to that song in a honky tonk was at Tootsies in the back bar and Sam Moore was the singer. Over the years, we've thrown down many a $20 bill in every bar on Broadway and all throughout Nashville and other cities we had visited. People watched us dance to that song and were captivated by the love we felt for each other. The moments I've spent dancing with Max to that song will always remain some of the moments I've felt the most loved and in love, the happiest and most joy filled. We danced to that sweet song at Swinging Doors just three days before he left this world. The first few chords of that song will always break my heart and fill it up at the same time.

Life Is Better With You by Michael Franti was our mantra, our love song to each other. If you page back a couple posts ago, you can watch the video. I have never in my life felt so joyful and so transformed than after seeing Michael Franti live. 5 times..all equally amazing leaving us feeling happy and with a renewed sense of unity and hope for humanity. I'm not sure I will ever again experience such pure joy with another human being that I love. If I do, I would consider myself a very lucky girl.

I think of all the hours I spent making playlists to teach Dailey Method classes and Max would sit and listen and help me find the beat to my choreography. I remember the last song I played during final stretch my final time teaching as an owner was "The House That Built Me" by Miranda Lambert. The studio Max had so lovingly and generously helped me to create and to build made me who I am. Gave me a renewed sense of purpose and strength after the loss of self confidence and the absolute darkness of cancer and my shattered ankle. There will never be another human on earth that studio will ever mean as much to as me. No one can possibly know the love and care, the sweat and tears that go into building that dream brick by brick.  I have Max to thank for that. It's  one of the few places I feel him entirely in a positive way and I am truly heartbroken not being there and feeling his loving presence. His love and light fill up that space.

Where am I going with this? Since Max has been gone, I listen to the radio and everything is a reminder or makes me feel things in a different or new way. It seems everytime I turn on the radio, another song that was meaningful to us in some way is playing. And some really obscure ones too. "Hard To Love" and "A Woman Like You" by Lee Brice seem to be on a continual loop. Two songs that Max always played for me and sang to me with love in his eyes. Haunting me, forcing me to feel and to think and to emote. New songs like "Better Man" by Little Big Town make me cry in a way that sometimes seems unstoppable. I swear that song is on every time i am in the car.  Perhaps it makes me think of him singing that song about himself to me in those last troubled months or even days or hours. It makes me think of Max as the man I wanted and wished could be a better man, not in the sense that the song is literally meant to be, but in the sense that I miss him and wished he could have been better in his mind...healthier..better at coping with his demons.. better at asking for help and understanding, just better and strong enough to find the light out of his darkness.  My heart breaks a little every minute I wish I had known his true pain and been able to lead him back to the warmth of my love. I'm broken because I did not reach him soon enough.

 I have not spent a ton of time on Broadway since Max has been gone and I know I need to get back to the place that we really fell in love and the place we loved the most. Part of me wants to feel that joyful again, longs for it actually and part of me is afraid I may never feel that way again. It's the one place that  had always called to me, made me feel at home,  soothed me in a way I can't explain.  I want to be happy there again. I want it to become a place of healing, of love and laughter and rebirth. I just have to allow myself to take that journey and I have been afraid. Afraid the memories will haunt and burden me when all I want is to feel joyful there again.  I can picture Max dancing to his favorite songs, "I Hold On"  or "Am I The Only One" by Dierks Bentley.."Springsteen" by Eric Church..shaking his shoulders in his own Max way to "Fishin in the Dark" by Nitty Gritty Dirt Band.  The music that flows from those doorways and the hard working singers and songwriters that grace those stages will always follow me and remind me of some of the happiest moments in my life. Moments with our friends, moments with my sweet Max.  I am fearful that I will always see him in every doorway, on every barstool, see the love in his eyes across a crowded room knowing I won't ever feel that completely whole again. His perfect love surrounds this town and I long for a day that I can feel content and loved so perfectly again.

In any respect, Music City is a unique place to grieve. There is opportunity for emotional releases, epiphanies, breakdowns, and re-awakenings around every corner. There is nowhere to hide here. Any song has the ability to strip you bare, break your heart, force you to feel everything all at once. Any song can also make you smile, laugh, tap your toes and spin around the dance floor.  It is one of the things that made me fall in love with this city. And continually fall deeper in love with Max every trip around the dance floor.  And one of the things that now makes me feel vulnerable. It is my wish and goal to feel happy and at peace in this amazing city once again.

I'm going to end this post with a playlist of songs for Max and a few videos that capture his vibrant charm. Each song is either a memory of or a reminder of the life we shared and the emotions I experience now that he is gone.  Each one is special and meaningful. I hope you take a listen and remember Max for all he was, in darkness and especially in light. Until next time...

Continue this journey with me here.  Copy and paste to your browser or click here..You may have to sign up for a Spotify account to listen.

https://open.spotify.com/user/nashvillecupcake/playlist/4U9QNNIoCIowhmq96adW0U

Spread Love and Compassion, not Blame and Hate...

I wasn't planning on taking this turn so quickly in this blog but something happened last night that made me so incredibly angry. I received a FB message from a woman I have never met who had never spent one moment of time with me and Max. Upon researching her, i realized she was closely tied to a family member of Max's and was a highly paid executive at a major company, a mother with children and a husband of her own.
Long story short, this horrible hateful woman made reference to a suicide note and in not so many words blamed me for my husband's choice to end his life and finished with calling me a mess. She even threatened to have me arrested.  Was this really happening? I responded that she was hateful and I was shocked that she would have so little compassion and respect for the recent widow of a deeply disturbed man that she didn't really even know. And I cried...and cried.

I am going to say that I am completely unapologetic for anything said in this blog. My feelings are my own and I will not apologize to anyone for speaking my truth. So the big question that everyone seems to think they are somehow privileged to know is "Did Max leave a note?"  I had been keeping this information close to my vest as I don't believe it's really anyone's business. But I am determined to remove any negativity from my life, including people that are nothing but cruel and toxic. And for all those who don't know me and are inserting themselves into my life and my marriage, you can now quietly exit with your hate because you will now know the truth.

Yes, Max did leave a note. In fact, I have several pages. Most are beautiful loving words of apology and devotion to me, expressing everything I'd wanted him to say for a very long time. He expressed how sorry he had been for hurting me with his words and actions and longed to be a better husband, lover, and friend to me. He told me that I was the most important thing in his life and that he loved me endlessly.  He expressed many sentiments that are mine alone that I will cherish forever.  The deepest intimacies between a husband and wife who loved each other immensely.

He also left what most would call a typical "suicide note". I never knew until yesterday that he also sent this page to his daughter, maybe his mother and who knows who else and that someone chose to share this with people who never knew us as a couple. People like the cruel woman mentioned above. This page did not paint me in a positive light. It was full of anger, bitterness, regret and in no way representative of the life and love we shared over the last 9 years. So completely contradictory of the initial few pages left for me. It shattered my world and gave me a close up view of the darkness of mental illness that took Max from this world. It convicted me of wrongdoings that were untrue and I had no chance to defend.  So it would seem the verdict stands to all those who only knew us from the outside looking in.

It's true that Max and I were at a crossroads. The final few months of our life together were chaotic and tense and riddled with confusion.  I felt myself distancing from him emotionally but i attributed it to his increase in drinking, his uncertainty at work and our financial problems. There were some very dark moments for us that I am not proud of the way we treated each other. I was desperately trying to find my way back to this man who was becoming a complete stranger to me.  What I did not realize was that I was witnessing the literal coming apart at the seams of a good man riddled with mental illness.  A man so troubled with such a distorted view of reality and an extremely dark tunnel vision leading him to take his own life. A life I know that he had tried to take at least once before over twenty years before he even met me. This was an illness that stemmed from circumstances completely unrelated to me. There is no such thing as "murder by suicide."

Even if what his final tortured note implied were true, would suicide be a rational response? The answer is no. People go through heartache and struggles so terrible and don't make the decision to end their own lives. A suicide note that contains hatred or blame only shows how deeply disturbed that person was at the specific moment in time it was written.  I read somewhere else something that resonated with me. It was that no one event, no one act, no one person causes suicide. There is emotional pain interacting with childhood trauma, genetic influences, addictions, distorted thoughts, coping skills all combining to form mental illness.

So there it is for all of you to know.  And it doesn't need to be a topic of question or conversation again. To those of you that have judged me, blamed me, been hateful toward me..may you never have to walk in my shoes and know the darkness of living with a loved one plagued by mental illness leading to suicide. Shame on you for ever imagining you knew anything of the great and beautiful love that we shared, of the laughter and tears we shared, of the quiet whisperings of our hopes, dreams and fears and the countless amazing moments we shared with family and friends. Do me a favor and do not darken my doorstep again. I feel sorry for you and for your children having to grow up with no grasp of kindness, compassion, or empathy.

For all of you, our beautiful friends and family, that knew Max and I as a couple, you know how much we cherished each other. Don't remember Max as the guy that took his life, although that's a fact. Remember Max for his accomplishments, his friendship, his charm, his loving nature. Remember us as we were..lovers in love, partners in crime, caregivers and soulmates meant for each other. I hope you'll speak up and testify to the beauty in us and the love that was evident.

For you Max, I will choose to cherish the beautiful parts of your last written correspondence to me. I know the rest was not the real you.  I will strive to not let that note define who we were and who I will become, as hard a task as that seems right now.I know how much you loved me and I know that you were confident in my love for you.  And I forgive you for I know you were lost and broken. I'm sorry I could not save you from yourself. May forgiveness and peace rest your troubled mind and erase the sadness, replacing it with love.

At least, it can feel that way. In reality, the suicide note captures the writer’s thoughts and feelings during only one moment in time, a moment that often is clouded by distorted thinking, mental illness, addiction, or other forces of suicide.

Read more at:

At least, it can feel that way. In reality, the suicide note captures the writer’s thoughts and feelings during only one moment in time, a moment that often is clouded by distorted thinking, mental illness, addiction, or other forces of suicide.

Read more at:

At least, it can feel that way. In reality, the suicide note captures the writer’s thoughts and feelings during only one moment in time, a moment that often is clouded by distorted thinking, mental illness, addiction, or other forces of suicide.

Read more at:

It's Been Awhile...Remembering Max Rose, my sweet love gone too soon....

So it's been years since I've written in this blog and the tears fall as I write now. On December 19, 2016 I lost my Max to suicide. It happened in our home while I was present and I watched him take his last breath after a self inflicted gunshot wound. He was gone in an instant, a shared life shattered and a sweet soul departed, forever altering the course of a life I thought had been mapped out. I was left with an emptiness I cannot begin to explain, a confusion, shock and even nonsensical guilt it seemed too much to bear. Throughout this blogging process, I will undoubtedly touch on many subjects, many emotions, and ponder many questions in hope of finding answers that make any sense or soothe my broken heart. This man I loved for almost 10 years was now gone, and nothing could have prepared me for this.  I hope as I retrace this journey, you will join me in the search for peace, the understanding of mental illness and depression and most importantly the celebration of an incredible husband, partner, friend and father.

I want to touch very quickly on the parts that leave me lost and terrified and confused, then move on to the wonderful things I remember about my vibrant, loving and charming husband.  The facts are that Max was fighting demons I hope none of us will ever know. His depression as I have been finding out since he left us  is something he had been battling all his life and sadly this is not the first time he had spoken of or attempted suicide. In fact, it was decades before I met him that this darkness began to surround him. I know that I was his compass in the past 10 years and had he not met me, this may have been a reality many years ago .  A mix of sadness and comfort surrounds this fact.

Another hard reality to face is that I am left alone with a pile of paperwork and debt, a looming bankruptcy, and an uncertain future. Any life insurance he had went to his daughter who he continually strove to support and nurture. Max was the primary breadwinner this past year after I/we suffered the emotional and financial loss of my fitness studio. Max did our taxes, provided our insurance, cooked wonderful meals for me, fixed the car, eased the clinical and chronic anxiety I suffer from with his love, advice and support. He had been my rock while i was trying to reinvent and "find myself" after losing my way professionally and emotionally. Through all this, he was dealing with such fierce demons of his own and I am amazed that we kept each other together as well as we did. The past few months were difficult. He was drinking more and had erratic mood swings that caused us to argue and distance ourselves from each other, sometimes being unkind.  Had i known the true nature of his depression, I think our story may have turned out differently. But those "what ifs" and signs I and others failed to recognize are for another blog session.

Max was my very best friend. I knew when i met him that he would impact me in a profound way but could never have guessed how important he would be. If you read posts from years ago in this blog, you will learn how he helped me navigate the mental and physical pain of breast cancer and a radical mastectomy. He was the closest most trusted love during those difficult days. I went on to shatter my left ankle(which I did not blog about because i was so lost in pain and sadness at the loss of physical and mental strength i had just regained after cancer). He stood by me through that which was not an easy task, I assure you. I remember him helping me bathe and washing my hair for me. Continuing to help me even when he felt helpless in doing so.

Forgive me because this first blog entry will be muddled before i begin to pick apart the process of sorting through thoughts and ideas one by one. I promise my thought process, however painful and awkward, will begin to shine through and hopefully serve to help others understand this all too unspoken and important topic.

Max was a young widower when i met him, leaving me at 45 the widow of a widower. Is that sad or ironic or just plain unfair?  Over the years, we helped heal each other and became each other's person. We found the same things funny, we liked the same foods, we watched the same shows, we both loved the beach and had dreams of retiring someday to warm ocean breezes and gentle climates outside our door. I have never laughed as much, loved as deeply, adventured so spontaneously with any other human on this earth. Those of you who knew us know the absolute joy we brought to each other. You would also know that Max was the life of the party. He was charming, vibrant, kind, a great cook, a strong and fierce hugger, funny, a good sport, an affectionate and intelligent soul. He was competitive and loved to tell jokes. He loved to drive, golf, cook, play games, take road trips, drink wine and whiskey, dance with me to our favorite songs. He made friends easily and was thoughtful to strangers. He loved our Cubs and his Broncos. He was not perfect as none of us are, but he was perfect for me in many ways.

Max helped me to overcome many insecurities after cancer and broken bones. He helped me to rediscover my mental, physical and emotional strength by supporting me in moving to Nashville and opening my fitness studio, now sold, but a key factor in the nurturing and healing of my broken soul. Which sadly is broken once again.

There were certainly dark days with Max, days i probably never fully understood until now or i may never understand. And I will try to navigate through those throughout this process. But the good times outweighed the bad by a million and i would not trade a laugh, a smile, a shared adventure with Max even if it meant this pain and emptiness I feel now could be erased. For now, I will continue to hear his car outside, hear the sound of him at the door, the sound of his snores as he slept beside me for so many years. I will feel his kiss on my lips, his hand in mine and hear his distinct laugh. I am broken. I am sad. I am angry. I am confused. I often lack the motivation to even get out of bed. The millions of memories and pictures i have of us both comfort and haunt me. I am afraid the vision of his last moments will be something I will never recover from.

But know one thing. No matter what darkness and doubt may surround future posts, I loved you Max. I love you still. I am thankful for the years we shared, for your love, your smile, your magnetic personality and your sweet sweet one of a kind love. I hope you know the depth of my love for you and the depth of the love of so many others. I pray you are at peace and I pray that through this process that I and those who loved you can find peace.  Feel my love wrap around you like a blanket and feel my kiss on your lips, wherever you are. There is a place in my heart that will forever belong to you. And an emptiness that seems impossible to fill. Find me in this brokenness, fill me with your love, help me understand your decision and forgive you for leaving me. As you helped me in life, help me now to find peace through this process. May the words of Michael Franti and our song bring you joy and soothe you now as they soothed us together so many times. In my mind, we are dancing around our living room once again. "Life is better with you."

Warriors in Pink--GAG!

   I'm very happy that today is the last day of October.  If one more sales clerk asks me to donate a dollar to breast cancer research, I'm going to scream.  A lot of the salespeople phrase the question as :Would you like to donate a dollar to breast cancer?"  As in the perpetuation of...seriously??  Haven't I donated enough?  You got my boobs, cancer and now you have the nerve to ask for a dollar.  I really am disgusted by all the companies who spend millions of dollars on pink ribbons and packaging and marketing campaigns.  Because what really is the goal here?  To donate to cancer research or to get more people to buy your stupid product by exploiting what is actually a very physically and emotionally debilitating disease for 1 out of 8 women in their lifetimes.  Why don't those companies just write a big fat check to the charitable organization instead of and in the amount they pay for marketing and advertising and packaging?   Send money straight to the companies without taking a portion, kinda like Ellen Degeneres does when raising money on her show? Seriously, the celebrity dunk tank is one of the few campaigns to raise money that I endorse.
  Anyway,  Are all of you really certain where those dollars are going or exactly what types of research these companies are supporting?  We all know that no amount of money will ever erase cancer of any kind.  I agree that there is still so much we don't know and research can help to provide better treatment options and hopefully less deaths over the years, but the commercial that states donating can insure that someday no one will have to suffer from this horrible disease is a load of crap.  I mean, do you really think those of us that have been through this need a breast cancer awareness month.  For many of us, every month is breast cancer awareness month, every month, every day, all year long.  We really just need to look in the mirror to be painfully aware.--in fact, we spend much of our time trying to forget and put behind us the impact this shitty disease has made on our lives.  That's why I'm in therapy now---to try to become LESS AWARE of all that has transpired in the last year.
   And all this talk of being a survivor, a soldier, a warrior in pink.  GAG!!!!!!!!!!!  I don't ever want to be labeled as any of these.  Survivor implies you had a brush with death and narrowly escaped. I never really felt like I was at Death's door....maybe like I got a card in the mail from Death saying Thinking of You...not a great moment either, but better than Death arriving at my door.  And just because I've survived this round of cancer doesn't mean I've escaped forever...it is an all too staggering awareness that cancer of some sort may not be through with me yet.  I take a little pill called Tamoxifen every day that keeps me aware of that. So I say no to survivor. It also trivializes a group of people that deserve far more exposure than we "survivors" and those are the victims.  By only attaching the word survivor to all these pink rosy campaigns, the truth of what breast cancer really is is lost.  Not everyone survives. Thousands of women die each year.
   On to soldier and warrior. these are just insults to the many men and women who actually are soldiers.  Do we forget there have been and are people that actually are in the midst of warzones and battlefields?  Getting through cancer is certainly a battle but mostly fought by the doctors, surgeons,therapists and pharmaceuticals that assisted me in becoming cancer free at this moment.  Make no mistake that I did not come out on the other side strictly from my own will to survive.  I had a bit of help.  So I have made the choice to not call myself any of these things.  And part of that is because I do not want any part of me to be defined by cancer.  I do not want cancer to put a label on me.   As much as the media tries to.
   With that said, take a hike, October.  Please take your time in coming back around.

Back to the blogging world..Fake boobs ain't all they're cracked up to be.

Ok, so I know I haven't kept up with this since my last surgery and many folks are wondering what the heck is going on over here.  So in a big nutshell,  I had my reconstruction done on May 15th.  When I woke up from surgery, I was overjoyed to find that the brick feeling was gone!  The was no longer a concrete slab attached to my upper torso.  However, upon coming home that day, I was a bit sad and still am because I thought the new girls would be bigger than they turned out to be.  I know this isn't my surgeon's fault.  He crammed all he could fit in there with the tissue he had to work with.  550 cc's in both.  This may seem big to the average gal just getting a boob job who has all that healthy full fatty breast tissue in addition to the implants, but for someone like me, starting at a deficit, it really only brought me back to the size I was before cancer robbed me of my perfect breasts.  And somehow that just doesnt seem fair.  If I had to give up the softness and the sway and the cleavage I used to have, I should have at least gotten a trade off with bigger boobs. 
    So, needless to say, it's been difficult adjusting to these new appendages.  They don't feel the same, they are rigid and immobile for the most part.  They don't look the same, they do not bounce or sway or push together like they used to and there are many clothes I used to wear that made my natural boobs look great but now make these look kinda unimpressive to say the least.  So I've had to spend $$$ on buying different styles of shirts, tops, etc that make my boobs look more appealing to average passerby as well as myself.   I've also invested some cash in some new bras that give me the size I would have liked to have, but still not the sway or cleavage.   I wore a bikini top for the first time last week and  once again was saddened by my lack of squishiness and bounce.  Sometimes, in certain clothes my boobs look pretty good to me.  Naked is another story.  My right one still hasn't dropped to the level of my left probably because of all the scar tissue and trauma to that one.  The scars are still a bit hard and unsightly.  The edges are a bit "squarish"  because of the dog ears flaps of skin that would eventually be used to create nipples, but I think I've decided to pass on those.  But hopefully my surgeon can at least round them out and clean up those areas to make them look rounder, more normal.   Feeling them with my hands and looking at them in the mirror are the two things that are a constant reminder of what I have lost and will never get back.  I used to appreciate a woman walking or sitting nearby who had great soft bouncy boobs with nice cleavage and fullness.   Because I had that too.  Now, more often than not, it's like a dagger to my heart.  I'm immediately insecure and can't even stand to look at them.   I feel bad because Max looks at them and as much as I never used to care, now I think he's looking because he knows he had those and can never have them again.  And I know that's just all my problem.  Because somewhere in my insecure fucked up cancer head, I feel bad because I just don't look as good as I once did.  In his defense, I know he's just looking because it's normal to look and I know he loves me exactly the way I am. I would find him suddenly strange if he didn't look.  I just wish I could still look without having a moment of hatred for that girl with the great boobs and a moment of hatred and sadness for my own lost ones.  I'm hoping some of these insecurities and reservations about my appearance will subside with time, but now i'm certainly stuck in the middle of sometimes they look pretty good, sometimes not too bad, but sometimes I hate them and cry and am angry and pissed that the only part of my body I used to think was perfect is gone forever.   And that is a reality that cuts me to the core every day. 
   Ok, are any of you feeling sorry for me yet?  No need...I got that covered.   Harder to have to use your brains and not your boobs to get a free drink!   Anyway,insecurities aside, it certainly is wonderful to be among the active and living again.  I've enjoyed being active and back at the gym, and spending time with friends I missed for a long time.  I enjoy being able to wear clothes without the rashes and skin irritations, and wearing sports bras only when necessary.  It's nice to be super busy again and enjoying the summer, although it is moving all too quickly and I feel I haven't really lived it enough.   The 13 pounds I lost during my illness have mostly come back once I started drinking alcohol again after 3 months.  Just doesn't seem fair.  And the hot flashes I get due to the Tamoxifen I'm on now are unrelenting and horrible.  Never thought it was possible to sweat this much. But it's better than lying around in pain and misery day after day.  I'm thankful to be alive and cancer free, and thankful to the many friends and loved ones that make my world a better place.  I'm hoping to be working by summer's end/beginning of fall and finding some purpose again.  Gonna lose that 10-15 lbs again so my boobs look bigger.  I know I have been lazy with the blog and have lots of funny stories to tell which I will begin tomorrow.  For now, I just wanted to update everyone on my general health and well being.  Back to the funny shit very soon.   Looking forward to keeping a daily journal again to document the hilarity of my crazy life and random encounters.   Please stay tuned....