Blood, Tears, and the Pain of Young Love

It was in high school. I think I was 16. I had a boyfriend at the time...my first. But there was a friend who my father didn't like. A boy who had a shitty family life. There was something about him, and it wasn't just because he was a black sheep. True, he was a bit of a troublemaker but back then, I had a way with finding the beauty in some troublemakers. Somehow they would come to trust me. One day I learned he had run away from home and no one knew where he was. I remember sitting in my English class crying my eyes out to a friend. He was so very dear to me and I'm pretty sure I loved him. A few days later he came walking up to my front yard. I saw him through the large picture window of our living room and before he could reach the front door, I flew out to greet him, almost falling into his arms. Apparently he heard that I had been crying over him, so he returned home. I was good to my boyfriend, but kept this boy as a close friend. I remember how we would spend hours on the phone and sometimes he'd play songs on his stereo and hold the phone to it so I could hear. One day I went to his house. His mother was sweet but I knew his father was a tyrant and I'm glad he was not there. As an apology for causing me pain, he played me this song. It was the first time hearing it for me. It made me fall in love with Danzig...and I think maybe with him. As much love as a teenage girl can feel for a boy anyway. When I had to move away from Utah, I remember seeing him. I remember standing outside his house in the dark as we held onto one another. I cried into his chest and he stroked my hair in a way that no one ever had. We did see each other again and after I had broken up with my boyfriend, he took his place. He traveled the miles to Oregon for a visit. I almost gave him my virginity at that time, but I wasn't ready and he was sweet about it. It was some time later, not too long, that I broke his heart. He had left his abusive home, made the trip again to see me with a suitcase in his hand. He said he was back to stay. He said he had come back for me. By this time, I had become terrified of my feelings. Love scared me back then, and I had a habit of running from it for a long time. I was cruel to him and I sent him away, informing him that I did not wish to see him. I had become so uncertain and so afraid....and then horribly guilty. When I broke his heart, I broke mine too. 

I don't know what happened to you. I don't know where you are. I know you will never see this, but I'm sorry. I am so sorry. I hope you are happy. I hope your life is wonderful and I hope that you forgive me. I am happy. I have a family. I stopped crying for you years ago, but every time I hear this song my heart does still bleed just a little bit. 

The Importance of Hardship and Sharing

Surgery went well and I am on a LOT of pain pills. Each day I feel a little better, even though I'm tired most of the time. I can only raise my left arm straight out in front, lower on the side, and above my head is out of the question. My physical therapist has ordered me to do nothing more vigorous than typing and beading, as far as my arms are concerned. Dr. Gabriel agrees with this, but he has also ordered me to get some exercise, such as going for short walks. The hardest part is not being able to pick up Violet. Instead, I sit on the floor and give her hugs and kisses. Sometimes she sits in my lap. There's still much to do as far as reconstruction is concerned, and I'm not just talking about my breasts.

Under Reconstruction

Well here it is. Tomorrow I go in for the surgery I've actually been excited about. Tomorrow breast reconstruction begins. I am positively giddy!!!

Memories, Dreams, and Midsummer Magic

Breathing in

transparent daydream,

lungs expand

body fills with music

from my headphones.

Soul stretches

searching to feel

the expanse of my being

as it reaches out

to the inward universes

that make me whole

and alive.

Simple turn of my head,

and mental planets

shift

as deep breath winds

carry my vision

far from this plane

and into the unknown.

I am worlds colliding.

This is a strange time, indeed. I mean, two blogs in the same week? Something is definitely happening here. Throughout this whole journey, I have marveled at the sights, the lessons, connections made and lost. I know I am close to the border between the “real” world and my dreamscape but even with all the beautiful beacons I've met along the way, lighting this other world like twinkling stars...things only seem to be getting more strange, not less. This is not a bad thing, just unexpected. I entered this place with experience but my last visit left me feeling like I was just a visitor passing through. This time, I have gone deeper and the twists and turns have been many. This time it was more beautiful, more humbling, and more meaningful than before. This time the change runs deep and while I know crossing that border is inevitable, I can't help feeling like I am leaving something behind (aside from my discarded breasts and ovaries), and also taking a permanent souvenir with me.

The day began with Violet, as it always does. My beautiful faerie Liebchen calling from her crib to let us know that morning and breakfast were calling. I was actually up earlier than usual, so I was more alert to her needs. I picked her up, hugging and kissing her the way I always do...as if it could be my last chance to hold such a sacred gift. Daryll took over after some coaxing with sweet words, a happy little girl, and the promise of coffee. I didn't have time to do all the mommy things today. I had to be ready for what had long felt like a distant fantasy that would vanish in a puff of smoke at the slightest fluttering of sleepy eyelashes. It was finally time for my pre-opp appointment with my plastic surgeon. I made sure to look my best (or at least the best I could before 9am), selected some of my favorite jewelry out of the items for sale (a girl has to advertise, after all). It took a while to settle on the perfect necklace. I felt that the day called for just the right piece. Once I was ready and had fresh coffee in my “Australia-green” travel cup, I went down to the car...and then back up to grab the afore mentioned travel cup. Forgetfulness is pretty routine these days.

Summer Solstice, Midsummer, June 21^st, our pale-green Taurus with the slight dent on the passenger's side (who knew rubber trashcans could DO that), music, clouds, and blue. The drive to PeaceHealth felt like flowing under water and in the sky at the same time. I barely made it to my appointment on time, but I made it! Entering the waiting room to Dr. Gabriel's office has always been intimidating. With its leather furniture, dim lighting, safe and tasteful art on the walls, and staff of beautiful women, I definitely feel the full weight of my socio-economic status as I walk in. Today it felt a little less ominous. Perhaps it was my awesome bluish-purple hair that I had managed to style almost perfectly, or maybe it was my shiny but tasteful jewelry. Perhaps after being as exposed as I've been, it just doesn’t hit as hard as it used to. Or maybe I'm just too excited about getting a hot new cancer-resistant rack to really care.

Dr. Gabriel was stuck in a procedure, and I opted to wait. I had filled out a novel's-worth of paperwork, after all. I chatted with his receptionist. She refilled my magic green cup, she offered me a place on the lobby for my business cards (insert sound of squee here), and after the good doctor had called to say it would be another thirty minutes, he almost immediately popped through the door with an amused grin on his face. Yeah, this guy is pretty cool. I was given prescriptions and instructions. He shook my hand warmly and said I was going to do great. On my way out I left a stack of cards next to some brochures and headed for the elevator and the way out. As I passed through the sliding-glass front entrance, I saw a middle aged woman with a gorgeous little round-headed baby girl. This was nothing unusual in itself as these buildings also house Violet's pediatrician's office. I noticed that woman and baby were focusing on something on the ground. As I moved closer and commented on the sheer adorableness of the baby, the woman looked at me and almost immediately asked me about my necklace. I told her about it and the Etsy. She said her daughter would be very interested, so I gave her a card. Then I turned my attention to what they had been looking at. It was the biggest beetle I had ever seen! It had yellow and rich brown stripes, and was approximately an inch and a half long. I was absolutely charmed by it and maybe it's my strange dreamy self, maybe it isn't, but a powerful feeling was beginning to awaken. Voicing concern over our little friend, the woman agreed with me and we devised a plan to ensure its safety. This vibrant creature was too precious to meet with the bottom of any shoe. A young man came to claim the baby and we were free to execute our rescue mission. Taking my card, she went to try and scoop the beetle up but decided she'd need another piece of paper or something to help guide the precious creature onto the card. Obviously the answer was another card, so I offered one to her. Perfect! Our little friend was lifted off the ground and moved to safety! Satisfied with our good deed, we talked for a moment about the importance of nature and how humanity has done a lousy job caring for the Earth. At some point during all of this I had told her the reason behind the jewelry store. She wished me luck, I thanked her, and we parted ways as courageous beetle-heroes.

As I drove home, that powerful feeling grew until I felt I might burst into beams of light. It brought with it something old and familiar. I remembered a part of myself that peaks through the cracks once in a while but hasn't fully emerged in years. I remembered myself. I remembered my real self. The magic that accompanied sky and music, and the synchronicity of all things sacred to me. I remembered the poet and the artist who moved freely through night and fell madly in love with the wind who had always felt like my dearest friend. I remembered myself and with that memory came a floodgate of emotions and I barely kept back tears of amazement. Perhaps if my surroundings had been more secure I'd have let them come. I parked, ascended the stairs to the apartment, went inside, and so much after that is fuzzy. I remember needing to read my old poetry and digging out my little diary where they are kept...all except the one I was looking for. However, reading some of the others created a longing for that piece to come back and bring the artist along with her. We could have tea or wine. We could create, laugh, cry and be.

The feeling began to quiet as I resumed my responsibilities to my family and my business. There was a surge of the old anxiety, but time spent with beads, my daughter's soft cheeks, and music made it bearable. I hung out with metal which helps me feel alive and then I ran to the strange wisdom of Tori Amos who taught me the most important things about being a woman. Even after that old near-forgotten place faded as easily as the gold of the sun fades its way to fiery red on the trees and sides of buildings and then vanishes altogether, I was glad for having that brief return of the magic that sustained me for so long before I had to learn to be strong in other ways.

The day closed with a visit from a dear friend, some wine, and a Midsummer offering to the faeries. I posted some new items in the store and tomorrow I'll likely be too busy to lose myself in my passions and dreams. I'm not bitter about it. I have Violet and her world of magic to marvel in. Still...there was something about today and I'm grateful.

Should I call him Ringo or Bailey?

An Explosion of Events

The days are starting to blend together as of late and my head has been very foggy. Absentmindedness and forgetfulness have become a regular thing. I know that it's mostly due to medications, but it can be trying at times. The past week has been quite interesting and filled with some unbelievable events.

The facebook page for the Etsy store has been steadily increasing in popularity, though we're still below 200 likes. I'm hoping to achieve 2-5,000. That way more orders will trickle in and maybe my little family will be able to dig ourselves out of this mess.

Even though I know there are both physiological and psychological reasons for it, I'm still somewhat bewildered by this whole PTSD thing. Part of me feels like rebelling against it. I get angry with my spikes of anxiety and I want to make it go away. However, I'm trying to take a more Buddhist approach to things. After all, that sort of thinking is what got me through George's death, my breast cancer, and several other things. I believe in fully experiencing things, even when they hurt. I don't want to deny myself the potential to drink in all of life's lessons. So why am I fighting this? Perhaps it's that girl inside who still feels inadequate, unworthy, awkward and lost. Most days I don't hear a peep from her but sometimes, when I'm trying to reach a goal, or when I'm receiving large amounts of praise and encouragement she starts to whisper things. “You're a fraud, tricking people into thinking you are brave. You are in over your head with this jewelry thing, and you only annoy people when you give them your business cards. You'll never finish college and you'll never make it to Germany. Give up and stay hidden.” I've gotten much better at silencing her with good music, positive thinking, and just plain stubbornness but some days she is pretty relentless. However, I am not giving up. For now, I need medications to help me maintain but I refuse to spend my life relying on pills. I just need to remember that pills don't make me weak, and neither does the diagnosis. The insanity of the past three years and the beating my body has taken have caught up with me, and even the strong must take extra steps to make it through the storm. I have a good therapist, and talking to her helps tremendously. I'll keep doing what I need to do until the stress, anxiety and nightmares subside.

I can't remember whether it was last Thursday or Friday when I was doing my usual Facebook activities...I think it was Thursday...when I saw a post by one of the feminist groups I subscribe to, featuring a beautiful black and white photograph of a woman showing her mastectomy scars. She looked regal. She looked like hope, life and wisdom. She was beautiful. The post was about how Facebook has been removing these beautiful pictures for being “offensive”. I had known this for a while, and I knew about the same thing happening with breast feeding photos. It has always made me angry, but for some reason, seeing this particular post filled me with more than just anger. It filled me with rage and an intense need to make a statement of my own. So, with a fire behind my eyes and a battle cry in my heart, I went through all my cancer pictures on my computer and selected the one meant for an art project...the one my mother took just a couple of days after my bilateral mastectomy. Trembling with a combination of fear and exhilaration, I posted it on my Facebook page in protest of their blatant discrimination against women. It was scary at first. There I was for all to see. There I was more bare and exposed than I'd ever been. The fresh and bloody scars where my breasts and nipples once were, the drainage tubes filled with red fluid that were stitched into my skin, the bald head; it was the raw and brutal truth. It was my big “fuck you” to the misogynistic bastards who were trying to make women feel ashamed of what we deserve to wear with pride. Even though I knew that this image was upsetting and gory, I decided that it was worth the risk of being un-friended, deleted, or banned.

What happened was something I was not expecting or prepared for. Within the first hour or two after sharing my most vulnerable moment, a surge of love and admiration came flooding in. People I didn't even know were liking, sharing, and praising my picture. Hundreds of likes, dozens of shares, and words like “hero”, “beautiful”, “powerful” and “warrior” lit up my page. I cannot even begin to describe what I felt. It was beyond overwhelming. Of course there was that little voice whispering things like “attention whore”, “drama queen”, “fraud”...but it was drowned out by the massive wave of love shaking up my quiet little world. Messages of encouragement and thanks as well as friend requests in numbers I've never experienced lit up my screen and my life. It was the most empowering moment of my existence! This continued for two or three days then slowly started to quiet. Then I was informed that Facebook had changed their policy, allowing mastectomy and breastfeeding pictures...two days BEFORE my protest! For a moment I felt kind of stupid, but no one knew about it! It was news to just about everyone. So even if I didn't do anything to change the policy, it wasn't for naught. I have made a lot of new friends, and been thanked by other survivors for making them feel better. It was all like some sort of crazy, wonderful dream.

I spent the next few days concentrating on jewelry-making with my main focus on things men would wear. It was getting close to an event that I had been giddy and excited about. One of my favorite bands, Melechesh, was coming to town, and I had tickets! The significance of this for me was that I would once again get to see one of the nicest people I had ever met. A week or so after my mastectomy back in October, Daryll and I traveled three hours to Seattle to see Septicflesh and Melechesh. I was sore, doped up on pain medication, and excited as hell! An ADVENTURE!!! The show was great and afterward we waited out by the tour buses. I was hoping to say hi to Seth from Septicflesh, as he had been super cool to me on Facebook, and I had come to adore his beautiful (inside and out) girlfriend, Ioanna. I did get to meet Seth, and he was beyond sweet! Before he came out however, Melechesh's Ashmedi came strolling out, grooving to his own tune and obviously enjoying the night. I felt shy and awkward, mainly because I only had a pink scarf to cover my bald head and I felt so out of place. I decided that I'd ask Ashmedi for a picture together and he happily obliged, putting his arm around me and squeezing a little too tight. I warned him that I had just had surgery, and he asked why I didn't warn him beforehand. Then he stopped and looked at me with a curious and concerned look on his face asking what kind of surgery I'd had. So...I told him my tale. Next thing I knew, I was being bombarded with hugs and kisses! He was such a sweet person and his beautiful spirit just exploded from his being. I got the requested picture, and a day or two later, I sent him a message on Facebook thanking him for his kindness and support and he responded with that same kindness.

Some time after this, I got a message from him out of the blue, asking how I was doing and saying that he had been thinking about me. I was touched at his continued concern. I liked Melechesh before, but due to his wonderful soul, Ashmedi quickly became one of my favorite musicians and human beings. He made a girl who felt invisible most of her life feel visible. This time around, when I heard he was coming to the area, I wrote to him telling him that I was happy he was bringing his music to Portland (which is just across the river) and that I looked forward to attending. He responded with something happy and kind and I went about my strange and quiet little life. It was a few days after the Great Mastectomy Protest when I decided I wanted to do something nice for him. The only thing I had to offer was my beading skills (as I had nowhere near enough time or energy to draw a portrait). I thought about what materials would best suit him, and lapis lazuli was the first thing that spoke to me. Not only is it one of my favorites, it just seemed to be the perfect stone for him. Since I only had a small supply of decent-sized lapis beads, I made them the focal points, then added rough tiger's eye, hematite, and gorgeous deep-garnet. I tried it on Daryll to make sure it was big enough for a man's neck, and I set it aside in a safe place. The show was just a day or two away. My bestie and partner in jewelry Brianna suggested that I send him a message, letting him know that I had something for him. I was feeling a little self-conscious about my work, so it took me until the day of the show (which was yesterday) to send him a message. I didn't think he'd read it in time, but he did and was his usual kind and cordial self.

The show was amazing, as I anticipated. I heard some really great bands that I hadn't known of before. Daryll and my youngest stepson were with me and I was so excited! I got to talk to and hang out with a few cool musicians during breaks between bands. When Melechesh was about to come on, Zach chose to chill out by the wall where we could see each other and Daryll and I went right up to the stage where we could get an up-close view of the awesomeness to come. Their entrance was as epic as expected, and as the primal and beautiful music pulsed through our veins, the world transformed into a place that felt like home. Music has always been a place of healing for me, and metal is the most invigorating life-blood. I believe it was the first song in which Ashmedi looked at me and we smiled at one another. I wasn't sure if he recognized me, since I look so different now, and my mastectomy photo was still my profile picture. I believe it was at the beginning of the second or third song when I was hit with the most incredible, touching, and unbelievable act of support and kindness I think I've ever received. Ashmedi...yes, Ashmedi...dedicated a song to me. He used my full name, stated that I had overcome some difficult trials, and then the metal exploded! Being the bashful sort, I felt myself blush intensely whilst wearing a goofy grin and half-covering my face. He and quite a few people standing nearby looked directly at me trying not to die of surprise and disbelief, and shyness. Well, if he hadn't recognized me before he certainly did now! And of course to cause me to blush even further, during part of the song, he came over and played his guitar right over me. Ho.ly.crap. Of course, the rest of their performance was maddeningly bad-ass and as it ended, I found myself walking outside in a daze.

I made my way toward the tour bus, while Daryll and Zach moved the car, and I stood quietly behind a small gathering of fans and musicians, trying to avoid second-hand smoke without coming across like an asshole. Ashmedi stepped out of the bus and started talking to people. I didn't want to barge in on any conversations, so I leaned against a trailer and waited for my family to come back, while chatting with one of the other musicians I had met.. My phone went off with Daryll's ring tone and I let him know where I was. As I ended the conversation with “I love you”, Ashmedi walked right in front of me with an “I love you, too.” Ha ha! Seriously, this guy is fun and happiness wrapped in human skin! I either smiled or giggled and he hugged me tightly, letting me know how good it was to see me. He greeted some other people, while I kicked back in my spot. Then without warning one of his guitar players approached me, asking if I was Larissa. I said yes, and wasn't really surprised since my name had been spoken into a microphone and it seemed like the entire planet had seen me blush. Then he said that my friend Nath in England told him to say hi. Nath is one of my closest online friends, and I was rather shocked that his name would come up by a tour bus in Portland, Oregon. We talked a bit before he made the rounds and as I had to back away from some cigarette smoke while apologizing and explaining that it was doctor's orders Ash stood back with me, saying he hated cigarettes and he had never smoked. I smiled and told him not to start. Then I awkwardly told him that I had made him something and handed him a small ziplock bag with his necklace coiled up inside it. It was too dark to see it very well, so he asked me to come with him and we entered the tour bus. Yes, it was my first time EVER being invited onto a tour bus. He took the necklace from the bag, looked at it in the light and told me he liked it. He made mention of the lapis, and I confirmed that it was indeed lapis lazuli. He seemed especially happy about that part and I think I got another hug. We sat down on the surprisingly cushy seats and talked for a few minutes before Daryll called me again. I told him I was on the bus and I asked if it was okay for him and Zach to join us. Of course he said okay and we all sat around talking about a multitude of things. Zach was given a diet soda, I was given some whiskey in a styrofoam cup, and Daryll had a gin and tonic. We made sure not to drink too much to drive. The conversations were all over the place! I learned more things about Ashmedi, and he learned more things about me. We talked about cancer, survival and death. I told him that this had been my second bout with cancer and I told him about George. We talked about the importance of humor in dark situations while swapping a few more stories. Daryll and Zach made their way back outside so he could smoke. They ended up hanging out there the rest of the time while Daryll made friends with most of the other musicians. Apparently he impressed the hell out of them! Ash went into the back for a bit, and I sat with the impressive guitar player, while disco music filled the bus...it was Disco Tuesday, after all. I felt bad for not recognizing him (in my defense I was overwhelmed and I hadn't seen any pictures of him for a while). He mentioned being in one of the former lineups of Death, so I asked his name. Yes, I was hanging out with THE Ralph Santolla! DOH! Curse my Swiss cheese brain!!! So discussions of all kinds with several amazing musicians and a few other fans went on well into the night. I got a picture with Ashmedi. He was wearing the necklace, but in the photograph, his goatee is covering it. Eventually, we had to get Zach home. The poor kid was exhausted! He was such a trooper though and I am damn proud of him! I said my goodbyes, got some hugs in, passed out a few business cards (while feeling a little paranoid about coming across as tacky or annoying...shut up, negative inner-voice), and walked to the car on a sleepy, dizzy cloud. This will go down as one of the absolute best nights of my life!

Since Violet was spending the night at Brianna's, we got to sleep in as late as we wanted. Upon waking from more nightmares, I slowly shook them off, drank them away with water and then coffee...and a sliver of a lorazepam pill as Daryll and I kept looking at each other and marveling in near-disbelief at what had transpired. As it turns out, my dear Nath had a lot more to do with it all than I thought. I can't help but love the guy and all his cantankerous but sweet nature! Thank you Nath!!! The apartment was a horrifying mess, so we cleaned, and when we could stand to be away from Violet no more, Daryll went and picked her up. I hugged my giggly, chattery little girl and showered her with as many kisses as I could before she wiggled away from me.

I am choosing to accept that right now I need to take pills and it's okay not to like it. That will be part of the fuel I need to drive out my emotional demons. Yes things are hard. Yes things are scary. Yes we might get evicted or lose our car, but people survive those situations all the time. I hope with all my heart that we can find a way out of this before it comes to that but we can only do what we can do. I've been through a lot; more than some and less than others. It has most definitely taken its toll but I have managed to laugh and smile my way through most of it. Even now with the nightmares and anxiety, I still find time to laugh, smile, and enjoy every minute with my precious baby girl. I don't know how many people read this blog but to them, and to everyone who has helped me through all of this, thank you. There will never be enough words to describe my gratitude.

I regret not taking my scarf off since we had matching haircuts at the time.

Sittin' pretty on cushy tour bus seats.

The naked truth of breast cancer.

A shift in Direction

There are so many things happening. There is so much I'm feeling. I've recently been diagnosed with Post Traumatic Stress Disorder and my thoughts on the subject are conflicted. Is this a real problem, or just the disease of the hour? Furthermore, does that even matter? I am struggling to function as of late, that's true...but is it really so bad? Reconstructive surgery begins in a few weeks. When that is over, the “real” world awaits. Cancer, as gruesome as it's been, has been the least of my worries. As far as cancer is concerned, I've got this. As far as my daughter is concerned, I know I have the drive to fight for the best life for her. As far as everything else is concerned...there is a heavy fog. I know what I need. I know what I want. I just don't know how much of me is left to make it real.  

One Month

One month from today...exactly. One month, and I will once again find myself under anesthetic and a knife, under observation and on narcotics. Once again, I face surgery. The difference is that for the first time, instead of taking something away, it will be about adding something. For the first time since this all began, I will be receiving instead of losing. Stage 1 of breast reconstruction. I'm not sure if it's really hit me yet. It's such a big thing! When I first came home wearing my mastectomy bra with its glorious C-cup prosthesis, I was on a cloud. Now, I am ready for a more permanent solution. I am ready to be able to wear things without having to worry about hiding my mastectomy bra. Spaghetti straps, bathing suits, plunging necklines...these will be mine again. Even better will be having perfect breasts that will remain so until I die.

I know it might seem hypocritical for a self-proclaimed feminist to be saying such things. However, until you've lost body parts, you have no idea. Am I opting for bigger than my original size? Hell, yes! Does that make me any less of a feminist? No! I was an A cup. So what? I had just become comfortable with my body type when this disease decided to turn my world upside down. I was trying to attend college with a newborn baby. This was difficult in itself. Then, breast cancer??? I won't lie. I thought long and hard about whether going up a cup or two would betray my feminist ideals. I wondered if I was doing it for me, or patriarchy. In the end I've decided this: Fuck it. I lived most of my life as an A cup, experimented with a C cup with my prosthetic breasts, and I've decided that as the expansion progresses, I will stop at the size that makes me most comfortable with my appearance. If it's bigger than my natural size, so be it. I'm not here to impress anybody. This time I get to do what's best for me, and I owe no one any apologies for it.