Ah-ha! Because I Can

Do you ever feel those “ah-ha” moments where everything seems crystal clear. You’ve got all the answers and for a split second there is no fear. You may have the answer to a question you have had or if you are a believer that maybe god answered a prayer.  Then a quiet, zen-like moment occurs and you feel at peace.

I used to work for a woman who had brilliant ideas and moments of insight all the time. Her ideas were usually obvious, but she happened to be the first who thought of them. She’d have answers to all kinds of perplexing life questions and work scenarios. Her wisdom tended to occur as a flash of brilliance in the shower. She’d start, “I was in the shower and….” then she’d share her marvelous pearls of wisdom.

Secretly I was jealous. I wanted a ‘shower idea.’ Since knowing her, I have had many situations where a brilliant moment would have been appreciated. I’d get in the shower and ask the universe for an answer to some kind of situation du-jour that needed a remedy. Na-da. The shower gods were unresponsive.

Then, 5 weeks ago, I was in the shower, doing what the shower is designed for: showering and washing my body. I soaped up my scrubbie and started scrubbing, just like I’ve done for 40+ years. When I got to my boobs, I had the moment. The Shower Thought had come to me. Boobs. I needed a boob job. Yes, I said ‘need’ not ‘want.’  In my mind there was no difference because I had made up my mind. The equation is simple:

{2 Kids + Years of Weight Fluctuation + (Gravity*42 Years)} / {Self Esteem – (9 * (years of neglect from gay husband) = Boob Job

Obvious, right?

Or perhaps it could be summed up as simply “mid life crisis.” But I doubt it. It was my ah-ha moment. I am owing it and claiming it as my ah-ha moment. Plus, I rationalized, I deserve it. I am young(ish), generally attractive, and new boobs would look really good on me. Mind you, I’m not talking porn star boobs, but some serious knockers that would look smokin’ hot on my petitie frame. I also do have a practical side and need them to be unobtrusive so that I can still maintain my exercises, which has been critical to my my mental health.

So there I was, soaped up and charged up. I had my shower idea and the very next day had a consult. I met with the surgeon and tried on several sizes. Within minutes, I made up my mind. I suppose major surgery should take more deliberation and thought, but I knew exactly what I wanted. I booked my surgery date, paid my deposit and was ready to go.

A week later, a friend was driving me home to recover. When all was said and done, I had 350 ccs of silicone inserted under my muscles. Everything was lifted up to where it should be. Now that the swelling has gone down a bit and the incision sites are healing, I must say that they look good. Not fake. They fit me like I wanted them to and I am quite pleased with how they look. I was in the shower soaping them up and that is when it hit me.

I didn’t ask anyone permission. I didn’t discuss this with anyone or ask opinions on what size I should get. I didn’t socialize this idea with girlfriends, family, or GI Joe. I didn’t deliberate or have to ask my spouse. That is when I chuckled out loud because I could imagine how that conversation would have gone. My gay husband was not a ‘boob’ guy. He was a ‘dick’ guy so he would not have been supportive of this plan.

This decision, I kept it to myself not because I was embarrassed or felt that someone would think less of me or more of me. My big discovery was: I don’t give a shit what anyone thinks of me. This is about me and for me.  I felt empowered and strong. I did this because I can.  Ah-ha!

The Last Tear

I still cry every time my kids leave to visit their dad. It’s a total breakdown complete with the sobbing kind of cry. Then every time, I say with conviction, “This is the last tear I will cry. No more tears because it is not my fault. I did nothing wrong and I have so much to be thankful for.”

Then, I dutifully count all my blessings and wipe my tears away. I have so much to be thankful for, but what I really want is my family whole again and I can’t help but feel angry and sad. I am still grieving for the life I will never have. Yes, I know I need to ‘get over it’ and move on. But the tears keep coming. I want the father of my children back in my house. I want him to not be gay and to love me like he promised he would. But the thing is, he was always gay.

From the start, our life together was a lie. I am sure he wanted to love me. But what he wanted more was to have children and to return to his home, near his mom, sister and friends. I went along for the ride, replacing my individual dreams with dreams of our new life and his family. Slowly I gave up who I was and blended into his family, his town, his friends. Never really feeling like any of it was a sacrifice because I wanted my husband and children and me to have a shared story.

I traded in the dreams I had for me for dreams of ‘we.’ I cry as I grieve for the loss of my dreams, my spouse, my family as I knew it.

Not a single tear will erase the pain. I take a deep breath, wipe my eyes and grab my yoga mat and head out the door, knowing that in a matter of time, I will have some peace and my practice will help me balance the pain and loss I feel with the uncertainty of my future.

In time, my grief will be balanced with the joy and gratitude I have for the wonderful opportunities and friendships that would not be present in my life if it were not for these circumstances.