A year and a half post-breast explant here’s what I’m learning in midlife about priorities and self-image.
Now may not be the best time for me to gripe about my body. There are more important things happening in the world. I get it. How vain, right? Except, here’s the thing (1) I’m an introvert suffering from OCD, obsessing over stuff is what I do, (2) I’m trapped with myself alone in my apartment, so I see my naked self a lot, and (3) It’s the 1.5 year anniversary of my breast explant surgery.
My implant/explant experience is not like a bad haircut that grew out, or a poor dress choice tossed to the back of my closet that I’ve since recovered. I’m not at the stage of midlife self-acceptance where I’m able to casually glance at my deformity in the mirror with a side chuckle, “Whew, what a wild ride that was!” No. Coping with the emotional and physical aftermath of being sick for so long and the mind fuck of having a breast removed is not easily forgotten, even though, sure, there’s a deadly pandemic running amok.
How dare I give attention to my self-image at a time like this? Well, how much more worry and anxiety can I offer to the mix of what’s circulating in the world?
“Worry is not reality.”
I could muster up some badassery and spew off some inspirational feel-good, but that doesn’t align with my #RealTalk mantra. I give you what I got when I have it, and right now, I’ve got a shit ton of “I’m doing the best I can”.
Overall, I’m doing loads better now than I was last week when I was still reporting to my part-time grocery clerk gig. Ultimately I decided that my sanity and well-being far outweigh my desire to help folks pick out produce. The anxiety over getting sick from exposure played a part in my decision, but also I surrendered to gratitude.
I’m not a religious person. However, spiritually, I believe in a Universal Higher Power. Each time in my life when I face financial hardships, deep depression, and other not-so-great personal stuff, I call out through my fears with gratitude in advance of blessings. And sure as heck, my prayers are answered. I always find myself on the other side of feeling like crap, either through new opportunities or gifts sent by earth angels.
It’s my faith in a blessed outcome that pushes me beyond feeling stuck, sad, and hopeless with what’s happening in the world, which in turn allows me to focus on the mundane, maybe not-so-important self-image stuff.
The bottom line, is I’m in my new normal (or old normal that includes self-obsessing?), and I can’t dedicate any more time to feeling overwhelmed with the many horrors of COVID. My priority is to move beyond it in gratitude for the good that comes next.
Breast Implant Illness could have ultimately killed me. Instead, I’m here to happily gripe about my uni-boob, which is its own bittersweet and lopsided midlife tale for another time.
This post was originally published in April 2020.
