This was definitely, one doozy of a week. Today, it’s all over. The past.
On Friday, of all the days of the week, I found a small lump on my left breast. This is not something out of the ordinary. I check, a lot because when I was a little younger, I’d had a few lumps and bumps here and there. I remember the doctors saying, “cylinder normal, marble bad” and so as I grazed my fingers over the spot again, I felt my eyes well up. Of course, being Friday at 9 pm, there was nothing I could do but wait and cry and I did and then I called the first thing in the morning for my Wednesday appointment.
Six months ago. I might have never made the call. I’d have had a)no health insurance and b) no strength. I have both now.
The midwife doesn’t think it’s anything to worry about. I’ll go for an ultrasound and, I think, a mammogram, for peace of mind and then this also will be in my past. I do not have breast cancer; I am not 1 of 8.
It is my new year.
I am no longer willing to be a victim. I am going to use my voice and my brain to save myself. I am no longer waiting to be saved. Relying on people to help me; begging through tear-filled eyes, “help me”. That didn’t work out for me. Or did it? It got me here. To this place where I feel strong and able. Where I still occasionally doubt but have the whereabouts to ask questions. Even when it inflames those who are asked. Maybe it did work out for me. Maybe, it helped me to stop being so weak. Sure, it was ugly and cruel and everything in-between but maybe, it was my awakening? I am not really sure. I will take it for what it is. I felt sad that no one rushed to “save” me for a moment. But in thinking back, I saved myself. Because I didn’t roll up into a ball on the floor, I became strong and not a fragile, shattered thing, I didn’t because that’s the thing I never wanted to be. I chose to be the victor and not the victim. And while I fully believe I am actually a victim here, I don’t want that title. So if you do? Take it. Because it means nothing to me anymore.
That’s all I can do.
For once in my life, I feel like my anxiety is under control. I think that a cocktail of therapy and the right meds have tremendously helped but I also, fully believe letting go of the things that fed my anxiety monster, have helped too. I let go of the fear. I let go of the worries about what people think. I let go of all the people who didn’t really matter. But not before setting up boundaries even if they were extreme ones. And I listened to my therapist when she said to be careful of setting too many boundaries and very tall walls. That taught me all things are fluid.
Life is fluid. It’s all about fluidity.
My life is fluid. My circle is ever-changing. There are people and things I never expected to be there and I have lost things and people I never thought I had to let go. I have happy and sad but I am no longer counting the steps to make sure my path is the right one. I have chosen to be fluid, flexible and to go with the flow. Like a river, I am both following the route created for me and ever so often pushing through the mud for a new pathway.
Life is fluid; like the river. I am a river.
I’ve really started to focus on completing my tasks for my doula training. Oh my, the reading. For as smart as I am, it’s hard to keep what the books say. I don’t know when that happened. I used to devour books and remember ever words as if they were my own stories. I think my brain has just been so full of gross that it couldn’t remember. And as I let go of the gross, the good stuff will stay put. I have so many books to read and I am actually looking forward to reading them. It’s going to take me what feels like forever but I am going to get it done. This is for me. A passing of the torch perhaps. Providing women, good, strong women the support they want and deserve and I feel like, with my ability to see all corners of the childbirth world, I can and will be an asset to all. I am excited. I am ready to start. I am tired of waiting for the what next. I think yesterday was the last day. The end. It’s over.
It is a new year. Like fresh water. The rain. It’s over, it’s a new year.