Off My Chest

 

Angry! When my plastic surgeon, who performed a breast reduction on me fourteen weeks and five days ago, asked me how I am this week that is the word I used. FINALLY! I finally told him the truth. I AM ANGRY! I have felt this way during much of this unexpectedly long recovery process, but I have almost never admitted to anyone, not even to those it would obviously not be directed toward and did not stand a chance of internalizing it. The closest I have come to saying how I really feel is when I have used the word "aggravated". (Okay, I might have used “angry” with three or four people but, still, none of them heard the depth.) Aggravation sounds less threatening and more manageable than anger, doesn't it? 

Anger sounds rage-y and in these times of fuckery with gun violence, aggravation is much easier to hear. So, I stifle anger – a valid emotion - and want to know why else besides the fuckery I shy away from having a frank conversation that is based on supporting reasons for the anger.

Am I that evolved? I doubt it. Unbothered? Nope! Emotionally intelligent? It could be quite the opposite.  

But it is more than semantics! A lot of people have trouble with either expressing or controlling difficult emotions; sometimes, these dynamics can be connected. Have you ever thought that if you acknowledge your true feelings, they might become magnified? It is not uncommon for people to be afraid they will become stuck in an emotion. For example, have you ever been afraid that if you indulge your sadness and start crying, you might never stop?

Am I the only one who finds the prospect of telling a doctor (their surgeon), who is actively treating them, that they are unhappy, even angry, to be concerning? Intimidating? Scary? Worrisome?

Would you worry that if you expressed anger with any volition in that situation you’d be marked as, “hysterical”??! If you suspect your anger could prevent you from getting what you want, do you try to project patience, instead? I have! Because I need more work done! Until today, my indignance about the prolonged and painful recovery for results, was taken off mute. I braved whether he would think of me as a "hysterical woman".

I am barely keeping my head above water, financially, because I've been out of work for four months! I cannot afford to go to someone else for revisions... and I need revisions! So, it makes sense for me to feel that I really have to keep my emotions in check so I don't piss him off. I don't want him to say he doesn't have to revise me in accordance with how I expected to look. I do not want to rail on him to the point he is done dealing with me... but my fury must occasionally be accessible enough to convey my unhappiness with the status quo. I already battle depression. I'm okay with being vain. The more I endure of this whole breast reduction  with "complications" recovery, I simply cannot imagine being left stuck this way. Noooo!

I feel a lot of pressure over this!

Now, let's juggle in a rock, red hot embers of embarrassment, and a hard place, shall we??! You see, my breasts were and are the bane of my existence. Diminishing self-talk because of them comes from unfortunate psychological conditioning. This level of insecurity over body image is a topic I have discussed and, fortunately, is done more openly than ever throughout communities, today. I AM HERE FOR IT! We need more of it! But this psychological toe-the-line between myself and my surgeon frustrates me. Angers me! Am I self-imposing anger about all of this, unnecessarily?! 🙀

No! This entire experience would be enough to frustrate, aggravate and ANGER even Mother Theresa, if she were unhappy with how she looked pre-surgery AND post-surgery AND before big complications became apparent. I would offer to prove it, but you all aren't ready to see the NECROTIC BREAST TISSUE. Yet. 

😼

Operating procedures: I have done an excellent job of reminding myself and everyone else who will listen that I knew complications could happen, saying he is a highly regarded surgeon, and, no, this is not grounds for malpractice. This is just more shit luck.

I have been restrained and patient!

 

But I also want to scream!

So, today, I explicitly stated to my surgeon, again but more emphatically, that I HATE THE WAY I LOOK! I LOOK LIKE A FREAK! And, yes, I have gained weight (which my always skinny mother talks to me about like I am an imbecile), but my weight has always fluctuated - and I have never before sprouted a set of boobs beneath my arms!!! WHAT IS THIS???!!!!! Just in case, I asked if I needed liposuction beneath my arms, and he said he’d just cut further back! Between my surgeon and me, I expected for him to be the one with the solid plan. Now, I can't even put my arms down to my sides! EVERYTHING I put on looks RI-FUCKING-DICULOUS.

Meanwhile, I am in several breast reduction groups with women who are gleefully showing theirs - who were the same size I was - and THEY ARE REAL FREAKIN' HAPPY ABOUT HOW FABULOUS THEY LOOK! As well they should be! I mean... dayyyyyyyyyum!!! Okaaaaaaay! 

In contrast, I'm over here horrified about the way I look, still in pain, and out of work!

OF COURSE, I'M ANGRY!

 I'm angry, not bitter...

But I still have to deal with reality and went back into self-advocation mode (not the first time but the most emphatic) because, while that list is true, the facts are also: over three and a half months later, my wound is still in the healing process, I’m still in pain and I LOOK LIKE A FREAK!!! I HATE MY BODY DIFFERENTLY, NOW! I CANNOT WEAR ANYTHING CUTE AND NEW as I imagined I would, or even what I used to wear! WTH ARE THESE THINGS ON MY SIDES??!!! THEY SHOULD HAVE BEEN ACCOUNTED FOR! I DIDN’T INTEND TO DO THAT TO GET THIS! FFS! IF I HAVE TO HAVE THEM, I'D RATHER UP THEM UP FRONT, NOT AS TWO WHOLE OTHER BOOBS ON MY SIDES!!! OMFG! AHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!! 

Regarding the pain, I am active again - not working my extremely physical and mentally exhausting job type active but going to school type active. Many nights I hurt so much I am not sleeping; lack of sleep can HUGELY exacerbate PTSD and bring the onset of symptoms! (I have jumped and screamed when the elevator opened twice in the past week, scaring both myself and the person inside! That is kind of funny but more so it is a indication of my sympathetic nervous system and amygdala stunting on my stage like Kanye West or Will Smith at awards show. RUDE! My brain requires decent sleep!)

I was told this surgery would have emotional side effects. Of course, this recovery is “next level” and my emotions have been a rollercoaster. I am glad I took off the figurative mask and stated how I really feel because it was time. I add it would be a lot easier if I at LEAST liked the results but I hate them! Yup! I'm embarrassed to have gone through so much to look this way.

Today, I said, “I AM ANGRY!”, and can you guess what happened?!

He listened to me, really heard me, and he addressed my issues!

WHO WOULD HAVE IMAGINED that speaking up about being extremely unhappy

– even angry –

would have resulted in being heard??!!

Nothing about this breast reduction has gone smoothly,

but I no longer must obsess about my final outcome.

As hard.

For now.

I will freak out, again, but for now I feel happier.

He promised-promised to fix this for me! 

This blog post comes to you courtesy of pain management.

Body and brain are grateful for the relief.

How do you relate??! Let's rant!

Scream into the abyss!!! 👇