Using writing, and meditation, and ice cream, and reading, and dreams,

and a whole lot of other tools to rediscover who I am,

after six years living with a man with OCPD.

Sunday, August 9, 2015

Popping in to Blow You a KIss

English: Angel throwing a kiss Italiano: Un an...
English: Angel throwing a kiss Italiano: Un angelo che getta un bacio (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

No, I haven't blogged here in a very long time. #sorrynotsorry

Once upon a time, I would have felt terribly guilty about this. But I have gotten sooooo much better about my boundaries, about putting myself first and being loving to myself, that I actually don't feel more than a twinge or two.

Last fall, I actually began dating again. 4+ years after moving away from my ocpd ex, 3 1/2+ years after our official split.

Yes, it did take me that long for me to heal. YYMV.

I also had to come to terms with my body image issues. How could I date, when I was so damn fat?!?

A lover turned friend turned lover turned - lets just says there've been lots of blurred lines. Anyway, he inspired me to truly think of myself as sexy again, EVEN THOUGH I was heavy.

I thought deeply about how often we delay loving ourselves - because of some perceived flaw. I will do XYZ, I will buy myself ABC, I will travel to DEF - all tied to some future thing - when I retire, when I am thin enough, when I have completed GHI.

Decided that, in fact, I was worthy of being loved RIGHT NOW, just as I was. To stop procrastinating on the self-love.

So I got out there on OKCupid, and to my surprise and delight, there were plenty of men (of all ages) interested in a chubby menopausal woman with commitment issues.

I also found much help and support in the Sex Positive World. Real life exercises in saying no, in saying no and negotiating for something else. In checking in with myself and deciding 1) Yes, I really do want this, or 2) Not feelin' it.

Learning to say yes or no to EVERY kind of physical touch, from kisses and hugs to just a touch on the arm, has been super-empowering.

And then.... breast cancer happened. Luckily for me, super-early detected, super slow growing, I think my cure rate (not remission rate, but CURE rate) is something like 98-100%.

However, dealing with even early stage breast cancer is like a second job all by itself, all kinds of appointments and tests and treatments and follow-up appointments.

As I post this, I've gone through 1) mammogram, 2) biopsy, 3) genetic testing, 4) MRI, 5) Pre-op testing, 6) Lumpectomy, 7) Pap smear.... and I am currently at the front end of six weeks radiation treatment, with hormone-blocking treatment to follow.

Oh, and I got my eyes checked, too.

I did tell my ocpd ex about me dating again, months ago, and his reaction was... not upset. He seemed genuinely glad for me. I never expected that (and I am still getting major "I love and miss you's" with every convo, so I keep them short and spread far apart), but am glad he seems to accept that.

The ductal tumor they found was very deep, .7cm long, .4cm wide. Wouldn't have found it until it was quite well established, so don't skip your mammograms, ladies!

My ex is upset about the breast cancer, and I am SO GLAD I am no longer under the same roof as him. I believe the constant tension and conflicts would be enough of a drain on my spirits and body that I would become one of the 1% who manage to escape life die from this.

While there's no way to tell for certain when my cancer began, best estimates are 6-10 years ago. When I was with my ex - though I'm not saying "my ex gave me cancer!" But it is highly likely, IMO, that the stress and constant tension impaired my immune system, so it didn't catch and destroy the cancer cells when there were only a few of them.

I do know that living in stressful situations can make you gain - or lose weight, develop high blood pressure, and have many other bad effects on our health.

But for now, though I am heavy, I am also pretty healthy, apart from the BC. Good blood pressure, decent cholesterol levels.strong, good energy, all parts more or less work. Some work great [naughty smile here].

I feel... FABULOUS. Loved and supported and getting healthier and truly blessed.

In honesty... my boob hurts, despite frequent reapplication of boob cream. I'm not looking forward to give more weeks of radiation, when it's this tender already. Though maybe it will toughen up...? (If my hope is misplaced, don't tell me - let me live the dream!)

Still, emotionally, I feel good, happy, upbeat. Loved by the world, and oddly enough, by myself. One of my new boyfriends (yes, there's more than one) calls me "Sunshine."

I will check back here periodically, but not sure how often it'll be. Between BC and BF's (boyfriends), I expect to be pretty busy the next several months.

My heart still goes out to all of you battling ocpd, as people with it, as people who love someone with it. I hope with every fiber of my body that we find a cure or treatment for it. Too many wonderful people are damaged by it.    {{{{{hugs}}}}}

Sunday, August 17, 2014

Mourning #RobinWilliams - But Not My Father

Robin Williams and Pam Dawber as Mork and Mindy
Robin Williams and Pam Dawber
as Mork and Mindy
(Photo credit: Wikipedia)
I know that a lot of people who didn't know him personally felt trashed by Robin Williams' suicide. As did I.

But it bugged me. Why?

And I felt guilty, because a few years ago this month, my father passed, and mostly, my reaction was "Good riddance to bad rubbish!"

Which is not entirely fair, as my father did have his good qualities, even if it doesn't take more than one handful of fingers to enumerate them.

Still. I loved Robin Williams. My heart still aches with what his loss means to me, and what it must mean to his kids, his wives (past and present), and to his friends.

But he wouldn't have known ME if I'd gone up to him on the street and bit him in the ass.

What dawned on me was something another amazing, recently passed person said.
You see, on rare occasions, my father made me feel happy or good about myself. Mostly, he made me feel like crap, an inconvenience, a burden, something in the way.

Robin Williams Made Me Happy

From Mork & Mindy to Genie from Aladdin, Robin Williams made me laugh. The first non-musical album I blew my rent and grocery money on was his: "Reality... What a Concept."

List of Disney's Aladdin characters
List of Disney's Aladdin characters
Photo credit: Wikipedia)
Sometimes he made me cry, in works like The Fisher King and Dead Poets Society and What Dreams May Come, but it was always a good kind of crying, if that makes sense.

I probably spent more hours, total, with Robin Williams than I did with my father. And unlike time with my father, my time with Robin was always positive. His innate kindness always shone through everything he did. I always looked forward to the next movie or show or comedy routine or video clip.

And so, I'm re-examining my own life. As my oldest sister recovers from cancer - she's currently considered in full remission, yay, I think about her, and my other sister, and who I want to be.

AVIANO AIR BASE, Italy-- Comedian Robin Willia...
AVIANO AIR BASE, Italy-- Comedian Robin Williams
performs as part of a USO holiday show held for
the Aviano community, Dec. 22, 2007.
(Photo credit: Wikipedia)
One of my sisters always uses a cheery tone, a smile you can hear in her voice, and will say, "Hello, my sister! It's so good to hear your voice."

The other sister often begins a litany of complaints within minutes, if not upon first greeting, which at least half of the time sounds tense, as if the call is an annoyance.

Guess which sister I want to emulate?

While I don't plan on dying any time soon, and am taking various steps to better care for myself, I want to be like Robin Williams and my happy-voice sister. I want people to be trashed when I die, because they're going to miss me.

Because I made them feel good.

How did you feel about the death of Robin Williams,
when you first heard?
How do you feel about it now?
Do you make people feel more good, than otherwise,
or are you not sure?
You thoughts?

Sunday, August 3, 2014

Purge, Baby, Purge!

I've always had a sneaking sympathy toward hoarders, because in my own life, it's often, very, very hard for me to get rid of material possessions.

Every object has bound up in it a thousand memories, or so it seems. If I throw them away, it feels like I am ripping away a part of myself.

Take these programs. Many, many moons ago, I was falling deeply in love with This Guy, and This Guy and I went to these shows together.

Are we together now? No.

Are we likely together to be together anytime in the foreseeable future? No.

What is the feeling when I look at them? Pain, rejection, regret.

So I was holding onto them because....? Who knows - I'm a stupid masochist?

Will I forget the good times we shared, if I don't have the keepsakes any longer? Unless I get Altzheimers, not damn likely.

So I am cluttering up my home with them because...?

Hello, shredder, goodbye, flyers.

I have this towel, that every time I look at it, gives me a twinge of pain.

Goodbye, towel that I bought for Guy to use when we went camping together. Hello, Goodwill donation!

All those pictures of me and (another) ex in my family photos frames? Goodbye, goodbye, goodbye.

Part of this hoarding thing, of course, is inertia.  It takes a fair amount of work to take the photo collages off the wall, to choose new photographs that already are or can be resized to replace the old ones. Easier to just let the old ones stay hanging out on the wall. And, bite me, I gotta go buy new INK cartridges before I can print out my new photos!

Yet. If I want, someday, to bring a new lover into my life (and I do), it's not a real promising start if I am bringing him into an environment overflowing with pictures and keepsakes from ex-boyfriends.

I wouldn't react very positively if the situation was reversed. *I* don't want to visit a new flame's home and feel like it is so crowded with keepsakes and memorabilia of bitches from his prior life that I would have to wedge myself into a small, unobtrusive corner.

Everybody i carrying around baggage, But do we have to keep it on display in the living room?

Prolly not.

In other personal news:

My sister's cancer is officially in remission.  Yay!

A second "celebration of life" was held for my brother-in-love in Sequoia National Forest. It was beautiful, and sometimes fraught with small personal dramas, and many tears. I miss him, and it hurts.

All my loved ones are all now moving forward with life, love, and dealing with our personal angels and demons.

As do we all, every day.

Hugs and healing to you.
Your thoughts?