Bye Bye Boobies!!

   If boobs make you uncomfortable, more specifically MY boobs, you may want to forgo this post.

 Here I am.. 11 days post op. and finally ready to share my experience. 

   People keep asking, especially my husband (for obvious reasons, he has to live with my crazy) if I am happy with my decision. Ya’ll.. happy is a complete understatement. 

   Nine years ago, post baby number two and a gross amount of weight loss (we’re talking, I was 120lbs..) I walked into my surgeons office and discussed a tummy tuck and breast augmentation. I had a spare tire on my front from 2 cesareans and pancake tits. My body was completely foreign to me and that was hard to deal with.  Fast forward to approx. 2 months ago, I put on an underwire bra and the next thing I knew I had 3 boobs. My left implant decided to go rogue and the pressure from my bra, literally pushed my implant into my armpit. I wasn’t in pain but it was definitely not comfortable. Sometimes she would slink back into her space, others I had to force her in there but regardless of where she ended her nights and started her days, she was becoming a real issue.

   My surgeon explained that because I am a side sleeper (my left side to be exact) my VERY heavy implant had escaped her designated pocket. Other factors played in, such as the excess weight I have put on and gravity. Though not painful, the only way to correct this is with surgery. Score!! I finally had a reason to reduce those beasts.

   Now, here is what I will share from my whole heart. Nine years ago I did not realize that being self conscious about my body would not be cured with any surgery.. in fact, in some ways, big boobs made my insecurities even worse. You’ll be shocked to know, I don’t like to draw attention to myself. I know, weird right? I’m covered in tattoos and definitely someone people notice. I don’t say that in a conceded tone either, I mean, I don’t blend in..

 My big boobs and my small frame quickly became comedic relief for my friends and family. So much so that if I was wearing something that accentuated them, I would often point it out in a self deprecating way so that no one else had to. Now, this is hard because pretty much anything outside of an oversized hoody or parka accentuated them but tank tops or body suits made me look like I’d topple over with a good breeze. 

  So back on track here. Recovering from a surgery of said caliber is no joke. I had a full breast revision. That came complete with a lift, reduction and new implant. My surgery started at 7 a.m. and I wasn’t out of recovery until just shy of 2 p.m. It was A LOT.  For the first 4 days all I did was sleep. It hurt to get up and walk, it hurt to use my arms, it just plain hurt. At my first post op. My Dr. asked if I wanted to see them, between the nausea from the pain meds and my questionable headspace, I declined. I knew I would have what’s called an “anchor incision” and I had totally agreed to that but in my mind I could only imagine that they would look like something out of a Texas Chainsaw remake and I just wasn’t ready. I knew without question I would be happy with a much smaller chest but I had been living in those boobs for nine solid years.  I’m on day 11, I have finally worked up the courage to gaze at my new body and my initial thought was not far off, move over leather face! They definitely are in their ugly duckling stage. You know what though? I walked by a mirror yesterday in a department store and caught a side profile view of myself and for the first time since my surgery, I lit up like a Christmas tree. I looked proportionate. I FELT proportionate. Watch out, self confidence is making a slow come back.

    In closing this most absurd blog post, I am truly happy with my results. I know they will only get better and the lack of back pain is something that can’t even be put into words. The day of surgery I was a DDD and came home a full C. That’s a big change!  I am beyond thankful for a husband who supports me, always. Sean and the boys are continuing to take care of me, they remind me daily to “not over do it” and I am getting better about asking for help. Side note, the first two days anytime I had to ask for help I would burst into tears. This had nothing to do with physical pain, I just don’t ever ask for help and felt like a real burden. 

   What makes me most excited is the ability enter a room at the same time as my tits and not seconds after. Big boobs are seriously over rated! Though I am a huge advocate for correcting your body in anyway you see fit, understanding that it wont “fix” your headspace is a different level. Making amends with this beautiful vessel that has grown two babies, carries more burdens than could ever be discussed and adorns art like a gallery, my plan moving forward is to heal from the inside and hopefully it will radiate on the outside. I need to mentally and physically appreciate this body. Working on loving ME is my 2022 goal. <3

   

Step Mommin’ ain’t easy..

  So much change has happened in the last couple of months. Change I have been quiet about.

 Yesterday was a day like any other in our home. Work, errands, grabbing dinner out because life happens. As we sat at the table eating Chipotle, Cooper asked, “When was the last time we went to Great Wolf Lodge?” To which I replied, “A few years ago before the New Found Glory Concert with The Ataris..” to which my loving husband questioned my ability to remember exactly what bands were really playing. As if.. my response was, “I specifically chose that concert because Madison was super into the Ataris at the time, it was a week they were with us and last minute they decided to go camping with their mom instead and I had to sell those tickets.” Sean replied, “that’s right!” And Madison said, “I felt bad about that!” To which I replied, “but not bad enough to go..” .. she gave me a Madison look, smiled and said, “you just don’t understand..”

 This conversation has come up often. The one where “I don’t understand..” First and many times with her sister and now with her. The “you don’t understand what it’s like to have to live between two homes, to have to choose between parents on their “non” week. The lack of understanding when one home doesn’t measure up to the other..” But how wrong they are, how I do understand and why their father and I have always said, “Be where you’re happy..” despite our own feelings in the matter. 

 I was 25 when Sean and I got married. I had an 18 month old son and was really trying to figure out who I was after a failed marriage. I was “casually” dating and discovering for the first time, who I wanted to be as an “adult” (to be fair, I still don’t know what an adult is..) When we met, it was a whirlwind. We were immediately inseparable and I instantly fell in love with his two girls. Aubrey with her newly grown in big front teeth and glasses, she was so fucking sweet and instantly stuck to my side. We did arts and crafts and talked about school. She was 7. Madison with her big eyes and beautiful loose curly hair was 4, almost 5 and she just wanted to be everywhere her sister was. I can still remember her tiny voice asking me to help her peel stickers for the project we were working on the first time I officially met them. Little did I know how these two would fill up so much positive space in my heart. 

 In the last few months I have had to reflect long and hard about this “step mom” gig. You see, some of you know and some of you don’t the struggles of being a step parent. Of stepping in to love a child that isn’t biologically yours. To love a child that innately rejects you because of what you represent. A child(ren)  who also can’t fully love you back because of what the “other side” says about you or because they feel like you’ve taken their dad away. In eleven years I have faced all of this and more. Ive tried to do it with grace and with a level head. Sometimes I’ve done it so well that even I am impressed with myself and others, I’m human and my feelings get the best of me but I can honestly say that I’ve often and routinely forced my feelings down and tried to “understand” theirs. 

 I can remember a time when we lived in Victorville, after throwing Aubrey a birthday party and having a great day, finding her on her bed crying. At this point we had already gotten married and had Cooper, not that the time reference is that substantial since that happened within the first 33 minutes of us being together but I say that to reference, I had at least been around a bit. I crawled into her bed next to her and asked, “What’s wrong babe?” .. she looked at me and said, “I just wish my mom and dad were still married.” I can still remember exactly how that felt. I tried to reassure her that though I could understand that feeling that she had so many new people to love her. Her step dad, his family, her new brothers, my family and of course, myself. What I didn’t say but how I felt was that, “I’m trying so hard. I’m trying to balance love between my new kids and my biological kids and this is just as hard for me as it is you. I am trying so hard to be an asset to your life and not over step some invisible line that pisses anyone off. I am trying..”

 I tell this brief story amid a myriad of them because it is all encompassing of being a step parent. Good, bad, indifferent.. no amount of trying ever feels like enough. Imagine being offered the job of an astronaut, only having the education of a telecommunications operator but being expected to conquer both. It’s a constant feeling of everyone expecting you to know exactly what to do when you really have no fucking idea and lets be real, I’m not even that good at being a REAL mom, let alone a step one but not for lack of trying.

 For years I have been accused of loving my own children more. Of loving one child more than the rest, of never being enough for all. Now, as a parent we already feel like were not enough.. but to actually have it said to you routinely and sometimes for the smallest injustice is just, damn. I’ve really sat in this accusation lately and I can tell you, I don’t love my biological kids more than my step.. but maybe it appears to my children that way. I can assure you that its easier to love the boys but not because I love them more, its because they live with me full time and I’m not constantly competing for their attention. I am not having to “reset” for rules in our home over another. I am not having to constantly “prove” my love for them because of some innate insecurity and vice versa. My boys just love me. They love me for my faults and my failures and my attempts. They don’t hold me to the standard of another or compare me to someone else. So though not greater or lesser, its just easier and I think that often gets mistaken for a greater love.

  I have made sure to include myself in the day to day but also, in the priorities that shouldn’t have been mine to begin with. Doctors appointments, dentist appointments, eye doctors and emergencies in between. I have chaperoned nearly every field trip, I have been present for every parent teacher conference, award ceremonies and when asked I volunteered in their classrooms on my only day off in the work week. I showed up to volleyball games even on our “off weeks” because being a parent doesn’t stop every other week. I rearranged my entire work schedule to accommodate practice drop offs, pick ups and everything in between. I have been asked to move my work day, my obligations and sacrifice for their happiness. For eleven years I have done this without fail for ALL of my kids. I don’t say these things to toot my own horn but man, as a “step mom” .. Ive done far more than was ever necessary and I did it with love in my heart and the appreciation of having the ability to do so. Even on the hard days, I was still appreciative.

 Recently I have been purposely excluded from major life events, I have been accused of doing things I didn’t do and oddly enough, sometimes I was the only parent who would listen and try to understand but now am the villain. In a recent conversation with a friend, the topic of being a “good mom” came up. She said to me, “it hurts now and some day it wont hurt so much but despite all the feelings you’ve had over the years, all the blame you’ve taken and all the good things you’ve done that went un noticed or others were given credit for.. as long as you know your heart, you’ll never regret being a good mom and in case you don’t hear it enough.. you’re a great mom.”

 I took that with me through the rest of my day and chewed on it a bit. “You’ll never regret being a good mom..” and that is true. I don’t. My only goal as a parent was to be better than the one that I had. If you knew her, you know I’m slaying, even on my worst days. Do I have failures and short comings? Fuck yes.. Do I get it all right? Who does?! But have I tried and tried? Absolutely.

 So to my “step” daughters.. I want to say this. I love you now just as I loved you the first day I met you. I have loved you more and more as the years have passed and it has been a blessing to me to watch you grow. Every time you think I don’t understand, I do. I understand the struggle of two homes because I am the provider of one. I understand the struggle to choose between us and your other home because I also have to choose. I choose not to show my feelings every time they are hurt, I choose not to shut down or shut you out despite that being my fight or flight response. I choose silence instead of being in your face because for all my choices, you also have to make your own and be happy with them. You have to make mistakes, you have to fail and succeed to grow. Just know, no matter what season were in, I love you.

Just a big bowl of yuck 🤮

 It’s been a long while since I’ve been here. Though I’ve had so much to talk about I really am just not supposed to. 🤷🏻‍♀️

 Today, on the ninth anniversary of our wedding, I spent the better part of the day feeling sorry for myself. I blame this mostly on the fact that I’m about to start my period but really, it’s because I’m a little scared. 

 Since 2017, Sean and I have been in a legal battle. Some of you know, some of you don’t .. but it’s the first time I’ve ever put it somewhere like here. I can’t say why or with whom because well.. it’s all still going on. 

 What I can say though is that it has cost us more than we had/have, in money and sanity. It has put a strain on our family I never thought possible. Here we are though, strong, resilient. 

 I lost my job last week, temporary or not.. this is so scary for me. Since the day I secured my Cosmetology license, I’ve worked everyday since. As I wallow in this feeling, I can’t help but kick myself for being so selfish. I am not the only one, millions are facing the same situation I am. 

 I am not the only mom stuck in the house with their kids, I am not the only person feeling completely useless. I am not the only one who’s allowing COVID-19 to slowly steal my normalcy. 

 It’s hard right? In this time I’m supposed to be thankful for my current blessings. My home, my utilities, the food in my fridge and cupboard? The fact that not once have I stood in line for toilet paper.. but the reality for me is that I have these things because I’ve had a job. I’ve had the ability to work hard for these things.. 

 I called my Mortgage company.. their solution is a three month forbearance. However, at the end of said three months, my mortgage is still due, in full.. for the three months. Let’s make sense of this, can we? I’ve lost my job and social distancing means that I am not supposed to work, at all. So, we all know that two weeks isn’t going to end this.. we will be in this for a lot longer, especially as cases in SB County continue to rise. People like me don’t qualify for unemployment. So, depending on how long this takes, I could become one or more payments behind.. easily. But I’m supposed to come up with those payments and a 3rd in that time? 

 Toyota has no solid answer for me, despite the calls every other day. So I made my truck payment and hope and pray there is a solution soon. 

 My real question is this.. if we’re “supposed” to have three or more months in a reserve for something like this, “emergency situations” but we all live check to check, how in the hell are corporations who profit MILLIONS, crumbling in a matter of weeks? 

 I haven’t really put any of this out there because I don’t want anyone to feel sorry for me. I don’t want pity or to borrow money. I just want to take a moment to be scared. To be uncertain. I just need to take a moment to validate my own feelings. 

The boys fight endlessly the minute they’re within a 2ft space of each other. . I have teenagers who think that having to clean a bathroom after doing fuck all, all day, is the end of the world. I have a husband who is exhausted between work and trying to fix things here at home.. and all the while, I can’t fix anything. 

 I just kinda wish that the load I’m carrying was a tad lighter. I know that when we come out of this, things will go back to normal.. or a new normal but for now, I just need to say it. This is shitty. 

 And please for the love of all that is holy, don’t offer me money. Though I know this has been done with love, if I can’t pay my bills, taking out a loan from family is the last stress I need or to think about paying back, ok?  Though I appreciate the offers and that you think I’m “good for it”.. right now I can’t promise that I am.😘

 I’m done whining. I’m probably done crying..

 Happy Nine amazing Years to my husband and me. We’ve been through some shit, a lot of shit! This was probably my least favorite anniversary celebration to date but we had each other, we had the kids and maybe one day when I look back on this one I won’t remember how much I disliked today.. but that like other situations in our life, we survived it. ❤️ Stay safe my friends. Stay healthy. I’m done wallowing. Maybe. Probably.. ok, definitely. 😂

Why Christmas Will Always Be A No..

   If you know me, even a little it is no secret that Christmas is not my "thing". I loathe it, I TRULY hate it. For most of my adulthood it's been an ongoing joke. Right around November friends and colleagues start giving me shit. Singing Christmas music to me, asking me about my holiday plans.
   Y'all make fun of my delay to get my tree up and how quickly it comes down. You tease that for someone who hates the holiday so much, how is it possible that my decorations are so pretty and my shopping is ALWAYS done long before necessary. So.. I'm FINALLY going to put this out here for you guys. When you're done reading and you feel like a complete ass hole- just know I still love you and you can still tease me.
   Some of you have heard my life story a million times over but for fun sake, let's recap.  I was born to a 16 year old, unwed, drug addict. From the start my mother was honest with me about most things, one of those things being her drug addiction. My mom had no qualms about using in front of me, sometimes asking me to "rack" her lines for her. (She was handicap which is another story for another day.) With this new knowledge you can understand that we didn't have a lot of money and sometimes we were homeless. I've lived in a shelter, I've slept in a car. Mostly my grandparents would take me in when things would get bad but this was the story of my entire childhood.
    Christmas was not the same for me as it was for other kids I knew and hung out with. I can remember being told nearly every year not to get too excited. Santa wasn't real, he wouldn't be slipping through the door with presents for me because there was no money. Let's rephrase, there was money for drugs but not enough for a sticker book and a bike for yours truly.
    On the rough years I would go to sleep, wishing they were wrong. Hoping that for sure, Santa was real and would appear with a tree and presents. (yeah, a lot of years there wasn't a tree either.) Now, for most kids or families in this position you would think the focus would be on family or quality time together. No, no such luck. I would wake in the morning, to find nothing there and the day was the same as any other.
   On the not so rough years, my grandmother would pull out a small tree, usually real. She would shove some decorations at me and we might put it together. Some years there were presents in abundance and some that were salvaged by my DeeDee and Uncle B. No matter the year though, good or bad there was never any magic.
   Christmas music makes my head hurt, my tree will always be fake, decorations look like clutter and my need to get my shopping done early comes from a place of fear. Not having anything or enough of something under the tree for my babies is a legit fear so I start shopping and collecting in September every year.
    We have our own traditions, sure. I yell at the kids to stop clustering the ornaments, I say the "fuck" word at least a dozen times and I get pissed at the amount of glitter I have to vacuum every year from the stupid ornaments and hoopla.
   Here is the most important part for me though. My kids, know very little about why I dislike Christmas. They know it's not my favorite holiday and they know they have to pull me into it, every year. For them, it is magical. For them, it's more than just presents under the tree. It's the excitement of Aubrey and Madison taking over the elves on the week's they're home. It's turning on the Christmas lights when they get home and looking forward to all the family get togethers we have. The inevitable Santa gift that will bring a smile to all of their faces. The gratitude they show when it's all over. For me, it's taking the tree down on Christmas day and shoving it back away where it goes. It's putting all the extra garb away and forgetting the day happened. It's whole heartedly appreciating the 364 days that will pass before I have to do allllll the bullshit again. It's knowing that people around me will mostly turn back into normal weirdo's instead of Christmas weirdo's who suddenly forgot that Christmas is the same fucking day every year and their lack of preparedness isn't my urgency.
    So when you assume that I am just a Grinchy ass hole, it's mostly true. My child hood trauma though, still runs deep. I'll keep doing the good stuff for my kids but for me, Christmas is always going to be a No.
 

Sucking and Adulting..

Get your mind out of the gutter, this isn't that kind of sucking.
 Sometimes when life is crazy chaotic and my plate can't seem to hold much more, when I feel like I might break.. my kids have this crazy natural instinct and they have this innate way of bringing me back down, they help me find some form of center and they REALLY, on the daily, remind me to count my blessings.
 Today was crazy guys. I woke up with a migraine, rushed out to chaperone Riley's field trip and my allergies fueled the unnecessary fire in my left nostril cavity for the REST OF MY DAY.
 I left the field trip a tad early to be home in time to grab my three littles from school, rushed off to fix an iPhone, spent a good portion of my evening on the phone with Apple for a different, overpriced and unnecessary product all while shuffling kids to and from volleyball and prepping that damned snack drawer.
Today, like most Monday's I failed to properly plan for dinner because there aren't ever enough hours in a Monday. (insert sarcastic emoji face here.) $10.01 on a Del Taco Fiesta pack is quickly finding it's way into my Monday budget.
 Like every mom with a fourth grader at Sitting Bull, I spent my evening focusing on Riley's mission project which is due on Wednesday. Have no fear, we've known about it for at least a month.
 Some how in all this madness, Aubrey and I had the chance to have such a wonderful but prolific conversation about Jason, I feel the need to share it with you.
 Aubrey and I were discussing that horrible year and all that we went through. She told me that in that time she really felt lost in the shuffle of our life and shadowed by Riley's loss. She didn't say this with malice or ill intent, she said it in a way that expressed how she ALSO felt the loss of Jason but didn't know how to talk about it. She said, "Riley wasn't the only one who loved him and missed him when he died, we ALL lost Jason."
 Whoa, right? Like, here we all were, killing it at this parent business and he went and died.. leaving this hole in each one of my family member's lives.
 I went on to tell Aubrey that as adults, we sometimes REALLY suck and that whole year after he died, I REALLY, REALLY sucked.
 I missed Jason for all the years we would no longer have, I ached for all the milestones Riley accomplished, I resented him for leaving me here to do this child raising alone. Even though I knew Sean was by my side every step of the way my heart was really mad.
 In all my own grief, that was by far the worst year I have had in a such a long time. I was so void of being a parent, being a wife, working, being a friend.. I was on auto pilot. I think back now and I don't even know how we made it through that time. I do however remember crying, a lot. I remember lots of mornings when Sean would lovingly say, "You HAVE to get out of bed babe, you have to be an adult today."
 What an amazing husband I have. Seriously, for a good year I mourned the loss of my ex husband, Riley's dad and not once did he show anger or resentment. He supported me, he pushed me through most days and he showed me grace when I was a raging cunt. He's that way in every part of our life by the way, taking my frustrations, my disappointment's and my irrational rants in stride.
 Back to Aubrey and me. So, were having this crazy good conversation and all of a sudden were both crying and I'm apologizing for super sucking that year. For all the things I can't remember, for all the times I failed to show up emotionally and for how selfish I was in that moment.
 I really am sorry for that time. I am sorry for wallowing in my own grief a little longer than I should have, for not being a better rock for my children and husband.
 Here is what I took away from our conversation the most though.. as a parent, we're sometimes arrogant. We forget the importance of slowing down and taking it all in. We forget to say, "I'm sorry" and almost always, we don't admit when we suck. We also almost always expect our children to "just understand".
 I expressed to her that at that time, when I was sucking at life, I was giving them each my best and  that I knew it wasn't great. As crappy as that sounds, what effort I had left to exhaust WAS going to them. Each of them in different amounts but I was operating at a smooth 40%.
 I told her that even now, lots of days I suck but what I have learned over the last three years is that beating myself up over and over after they have all gone to bed doesn't help any of us. I told her that I measure myself now against what I had growing up. If on this Monday I sucked and maybe didn't have the ultimate crock pot meal going while juggling everything else, at least I kept them alive, transported and loved. The most important in that sentence is Loved. No matter how bad I am sucking or killing it, I hope all four of my children always know how incredibly loved they are and that each and every day they are the blessings that I count. <3

Mental Health Day's for the Win..

 A lot has been happening in the Ehart house. Nothing of which I'd like to publicly air. Yesterday my husband treated me to a much needed "mental health day." A day to just enjoy the life we have, enjoy the boys and forget all the stress at home.
 My husband, took us to Disneyland. I was so excited to get the hell out of here, put some tickets we had socked away to good use and enjoy the smells, the color and of course the holiday magic that happens around this time of year.
 What I got was so much more. They say that when you have kids you get to experience magic through their eyes. I have encountered this on a few occasions but it's been awhile. Some would say my kids are "spoiled". They have had the luxury of Disneyland passes in the past, Knott's Berry Farm, Universal Studio's, San Diego Zoo even Sea World. The point to this is that they are no stranger to theme parks or a life of fun.
 Yesterday though, it was like my boy's were going to Disneyland for the first time! That sounds crazy but we did the math and it's been almost 4 years since we've been in that park. The boys were 5 and 2 the last time we were there! I got to watch them explore and take in all the sights and sounds. They rode ride's they have been on at least a dozen times but couldn't remember or were to small to ride before. The day had no stress, no strife and the boys were of course none the wiser to our "need" for a break.
 I had the pleasure of holding onto Cooper as we took large turns on Big Thunder Mountain, his belly laughs as the wind whipped through his hair and his arms were up and waving. I got to hold my Riley boy's hand on the Haunted Mansion as we took in all the Nightmare Before Christmas decorations. We all rode Indiana Jones together and neither of them were scared of the effects. My favorite part though, was at the end of the night when we ended our park visit with the Finding Nemo Sub ride. My husband put his arms around me and we both watched the boys deep in the windows of the sub, listening to the narrator and taking in the characters. Riley even went on to nudge Cooper and tell him, "Look Coopie! Those Jelly Fish are real!!" (They aren't real but neither of them need to know that truth.)
 Yesterday, I forgot to worry about the things that are out of my control and I got to enjoy watching this life, the one we have built and are building through our boys.
 I got to really enjoy the day, not being pulled in any one direction and I got to experience a new kind of magic and wonder through my kids. I got to see that no matter how serious life can be you should always make a little room to be silly, play harder than you work and take time to just breathe. Yesterday, we didn't worry about finances (though, we really should.. fuck it, it will work itself out.) we didn't worry about personal drama, dirty floors or taking out the trash. (for real.. forgot to put them down to the street.. oops?)
 I don't publicly say it as often as I should but I am so thankful for my ginger and all four of my children. They make the bad weeks better, the shit days bearable and the fun moments worth enjoying to the fullest. They keep me grounded and I couldn't imagine doing this very life without them. <3

It's "OK" to Deal With the "Things"..

Sean: Babe..

Me: Yes?

Sean: You know I love you..

Me: I'm sorry I've been so neurotic the last few days..

Sean: It's ok. You have a lot on your mind, you're ok..

Me: Just a little, maybe a few things.

Sean: You know it's ok to "deal" with "things", right?

 So, what some of you may know and what some are just finding out is that I have been having some less then desirable heath issues the last year. I try my best to down play it and to not freak myself out. I also try really hard not to freak ya'll out.. but the last few weeks have been a little harder then others.

 You see, nearly a year ago I was diagnosed with a condition called Interstitial Cystitis. Basically, my bladder is a real moody bitch and doesn't always like to be a team player. This condition sounds scary and is really hard to properly say, pronounce or even explain but mostly it's just really inconvenient. It's painful but lucky for me, I can function at almost full capacity almost all the time.

 IC is mostly (for me) controlled with a mild blood thinner that causes me to have some pretty wicked side effects. 

 None of this is really crazy important for you to know because this is not the "specific thing" occupying most of my brain space.

 Three weeks ago I saw my urologist for a follow up and after ruling out some stuff and things he decided our next course of action is for another cystoscopy with a high chance of biopsy. Medical jargon because I am watching Grey's Anatomy as I type this.

 I have done a decent job of not stressing, not letting this course of action change my moods but as my surgery date approaches I am allowing some pretty dark thoughts to occupy those positive spaces.

 I keep pep talking myself, telling myself that whatever it is, I will get through it. 

 I will.. but to be honest I am scared. I am really freaked out and I am insanely stressed. 

 I know people who have cancer, who have beat cancer and I have mourned those who tried but lost. I selfishly don't want to be any of those things. I don't want to have cancer (I know, does anyone?), I don't want to have to fight to beat or lose to cancer. I don't ever want someone to mourn me because of cancer.

 I've done what every medical professional I know has told every patient in the world not to do. I have googled, webMd the shit out of my symptoms and even struggled to explain away so many of them. I even for a day, one solid day, considered canceling this rapidly approaching surgery. (Don't worry, I didn't.)

 I have downplayed my feelings about all the new things going on because, well, I don't want to "deal" with these things. Or so I thought until my husband said to me, "You know it's ok to "deal" with "things", right?" What I am sort of starting to realize now is that I don't know how to deal with my own things. I can advocate for my children, scream from a rooftop about my job, confront an irrational client, pep talk the spirit back into just about anyone and discuss all aspects of my life but when it comes to dealing with my own personal struggles.. I don't really know how.

 I don't know how to be rationally concerned for my own well being without falling apart. The last two nights that Sean and I have tried to talk about my health all I can do is cry.

 I know I come off as a hard ass and I soldier through a lot of physical pain.. this is no secret. I am often referred to as crazy, so strong, to stubborn or my least favorite, "super woman." All said mostly as a term of endearment but the truth is this whole week I have been nervous, anxiety ridden, stressed, angry and mostly scared.

 Scared that if this is just a bad IC flare up that this will be a reoccurring hindrance in my life. Scared that if it is more then just an IC flare up that I will have to fight. Scared that my children will inevitably be affected by my fears. I am aware that my fears are premature and are definitely isolating me but I mostly prefer to be a silent sufferer. 

 I don't know how to say these things out loud but last night as I read the book called "Love You Forever" to Cooper and Riley, a book we have read hundreds of times since before they were born I got choked up and I let myself wonder if I were gone from this world, who would read to my babies?

 Who would call them my names of endearment or share their "I LOVE PENIS" stories with the world? Who could fill my shoes and be everything that I am for my adorable ehart clan.

 I don't want to wonder those things. I don't want to think of my husband and children navigating our beautiful life without me.. so I just don't "deal" with this "thing."

 I truthfully send out silent vibes every night that three weeks from now I'll be writing a blog post about how healthy I am, how stupid this blog post was and how I was worked up for absolutely nothing.

 So, in a not so short peek into my life.. if I seem testy, irrational or just plain distant don't take it personal. I am trying to deal with things and I am not as good at it as I pretend. I am trying to stay positive and I am trying to be attentive to all the normal aspects of my life but this week is a little harder then I would like to admit. <3