I have had crap for sleep lately. And I HATE it!
I’m not one who does well on little sleep. I get grumpy (aka BITCHY). I get impatient (yes – even more than I am normally). I drink more coffee and want more sugar. I don’t tolerate stupidity or fools well.
I’ve tried all my normal go-tos in order to get some sleep – minimized my coffee so I’m not drinking any after noon, a glass of wine at the end of the day, taking a hot shower before bed, gentle stretching, cuddles with my boy, cuddles with my woman, mindless reading, mindless tv – yeah. Not working.
I know that some of it is just feeling the insanity of fall rush descending upon us. But, I have also realized that I have some crazy anxiety about a major life-altering event that is three weeks away.
I’ve elected to have a breast reduction surgery. This isn’t a decision that I’ve come to lightly. It’s a procedure that I’ve researched for (literally) decades. When I was younger, the motivation was more aesthetic than health-motivated. But, in the past two years, the motivation has definitely shifted to improving my overall health, well-being and quality of life.
WARNING: personal details ahead. For whatever reason, people can get really uncomfortable about subjects such as breast reductions. I get that. So, if that’s you – stop reading here.
I’ve always been curvy – voluptuous – momona – busty … whatever you wish to call it. And, although the curves sure didn’t help in dancing ballet, I was always comfortable with and enjoyed my body. I like how my body feels. And I like how I feel in my body. I know how I “am” in my body. I know what my experiences are – how people see me and how I move through this world. I know how to give people hugs. I know to lift up my shoulders so my breasts don’ bump into the table top when I sit at a table or bar. I know how to curl myself around my pillow (or my wife) so that my breasts are comfortable. I know how my baby boy likes to rest his head on my chest – where he’s most comfortable and where it’s most comfortable for me. I know, when looking at a piece of clothing, how a certain cut will drape across my chest and flatter (or not) my cleavage. I know how much cleavage I am comfortable with – and how much my wife and son are comfortable with. I know how to rest my phone or my ID and a few dollars in my cleavage when I run out of the house for a quick errand. I know how certain zumba and yoga moves will cause pain or a little too much revealed.
Even with twenty years of contemplating this change, I am facing some serious and seriously unexpected anxiety. I’m excited – no doubt about that. I’m excited to be able to buy a bra that fits me on this island. I’m excited to be able to fit a bikini/bathing suit top that is flattering without having to support overly-abundant breasts. I’m excited to see if sleeping on my tummy will be comfortable. Oh – yes. I am excited. I went to see a therapist this week – needed to bounce some things off of someone who is a bit more impartial then my wife (love her … but, impartial she is not). The therapist asked me whether I would consider calling off the surgery because of my anxiety. My answer was an emphatic “NO!”. She then asked if I would regret the surgery if it didn’t significantly impact the number or severity of the migraines that I get (did I mention that the migraines – which are often triggered by tension headaches which are usually caused by the weight that my bra straps have to hold up – are the main motivating health factor of this reduction?). Again, my answer was an emphatic, “NO!”. No hesitation. No second-thoughts. So, said therapist pointed out that anxiety about such a major life change is normal. Thank the angels! I’m normal! (Honey – did you hear that? I’m normal!)
I am anxious. I know it. You see, I’ve never undergone a surgery before. Unlike my amazing wife (11 surgeries and counting), I am a BIG ‘OLE chickenshit when it comes to someone cutting me open and then having to heal from that. Anyone who knows me well will tell you that I am the BIGGEST baby when I’m down with a cold. I whimper and whine. I want to be held and cuddled. In short … I’m a BIG ASS baby! SOOO … can you imagine me after a surgery? (This is the time when you feel bad for my family!) I’m anxious about seeing my body post-surgery. It seems that there is exact size that my surgeons are aiming for. Apparently, the final size will be determined by my breast structure and proportion. So, it’s not as if I know (intellectually) what size I’m going to be after my body heals. I’m anxious about possibly feeling disconnected from my body. Or foreign in it.
I might be a tad bit obsessing. And I really need to stop that so that I can – you know – get some sleep. And in the meantime, I cope. I consume more than my share of caffeine. I close my office door when I’m grumpy. I cuddle up in my family’s arms and lean on them for normalcy.
So, I’m very much looking forward to this weekend. Some time to catch up with friends. Going to catch the season opener for UH Soccer (HEY! Did you know that UH has a soccer team? And they’re pretty darn AWESOME! Join us at Waipio for their first game of the season 7 pm, Friday August 23rd). Maybe some time on the SUP. A pirate adventure. And time to decompress. That’s it … my coping mechanisms are in place.
Here’s to hoping that you, my peeps, will have a SPECTACULAR weekend as well!
Much hugs and love!