I woke up this morning feeling a lot of anxiety because I had a bad dream. Do you ever have a dream – or nightmare – that is just so realistic?
As I sit here sipping coffee, I just can’t seem to get it out of my head. Sometimes as I begin writing, I start getting clarity on what I’m feeling … So here goes…
It started out nice enough, I was at “home,” although it didn’t resemble my house at all, my son was in his room playing with his friends, I was relaxing, then there was a knock on my door. I peaked out and it was someone I used to date (even in the real, non-dream world we’ve remained friends), but I didn’t want to see him so I ducked and tried to hide. As I ducked I realized that I had tons of windows and the blinds were all open in this fictional house so he could look in and see me. Reluctantly, I opened the door. We visited for awhile and then began getting intimate, kissing and his hand slowly crept down my shirt. Then, suddenly I remembered I didn’t have any beasts, that was the about the time he realized it. He pulled his hand away so quickly and gave me the most disturbing look – he had such a disgusted look on his face. I was humiliated and told him to just get out.
About that time someone else rang the bell and I had to go answer the door. It was one of Aiden’s friends and I had to walk them to Aiden’s room in this weird shaped house. When I got back my ex was gone and I just fell apart. I couldn’t believe that he actually left. I felt humiliated and I cried and cried. Then I went to visit friends, they were people that I know, but that I haven’t seen in over 15 years in real life. When I told them about what happened, one of them laughed at me. I couldn’t believe it … So I cried more.
I woke up after that feeling so upset. I guess I’ve been thinking a lot about my breast reconstruction surgery lately, since it’s less than two weeks away. I’ve been scared about trying the expanders again after what happened last year when I had them put in after my mastectomy. It was so painful and my body rejected them, now I’m going to have to go back through all that pain, the drains, the sickness… And I stay praying that it’s going to be different this time. I wonder why I’m doing it. But then, I look in the mirror, I see scars across my chest; so I put a shirt on and see the flat chest, which makes my already large belly look bigger; so I put my prosthetic beasts on, they’re heavy and very uncomfortable, the mastectomy bra is big and ugly – the only sexiness is picking black, rather than beige or white, I spend forever in the mirror trying to adjust them so they’re even. I’m tired of it. I want to feel normal again, feel attractive and like a real woman again.
I often regret my decision to have the mastectomy in the first place. I tell myself how aggressive and invasive my breast cancer was and how I’ve had family members who have had it come back. I remind myself how hard the chemo was and how I know I can’t go through it again, and convince myself that I made the right choice.
Then I get sad because this isn’t the way any of this was supposed to happen. I was supposed to have the reconstruction with the mastectomy and by now I should be done with all this, and truly getting my life back to normal, but instead I’m back at square one and have to start over.
I spend so much time thinking about this that it’s now haunting my dreams. I can only keep having faith that the surgery will be successful and my body will cooperate this time.
I wish now that I survived triple negative, aggressive, invasive breast cancer that my fight was over and I could finally move on … But there are more rounds to go.