Breasts and Alcohol
Today I am grateful for the many steps I took yesterday as I ran, walked, cleaned, shopped. Being able to put one foot in front of the other is a gift. I am also grateful for emotions shown by others, real and raw. They are gifts of another kind.
Admittedly, my post title today probably attracts more attention than some of my post titles. But it wasn't an attention-seeking ploy. When it comes to acceptance, breasts and alcohol are two areas I need plenty of it. Ongoing. That's the thing about acceptance. I needed it yesterday. I need it today. I will need it tomorrow. If I want to live with some peace and serenity anyway. There's a reason why Tara Brach calls it radical acceptance.
The other day I was heading down the road from our house on the way to the store. I drove past a woman running on the trail. I noticed her breasts and had a pang of grief for the loss of my own breasts. I can now go weeks without such pangs, but they haven't gone away. I suspect they never will. And that is okay. That is healthy grief in my book. I didn't resent her for having breasts. I didn't latch on to the unfairness of it all. I just acknowledged that I miss my breasts.
When I awoke from my bilateral mastectomy surgery in December of 2008, one of the first things I did was look at my new flat chest terrain. It was covered in bandages and such, but it was my first step toward radical acceptance. Grieving, healing, and gratitude have co-existed since then. Today, the grief is less, the physical healing long completed. It is the gratitude that propels me forward.
I have had to accept alcohol and my relationship to it for far longer than I have grieved the loss of my breasts. Most days I don't notice the many signs, stores, cans, bottles that advertise alcohol and the escape found within. (I always saw it as escape anyway.) But some days one of those reminders may bother me for just a little while. I may feel a twinge of "why can't I enjoy some of that?" Or a pull of "I wish I had an escape like that."
Last evening we went out to eat at a local establishment. We like the food, the view, and the fact that we can walk there. There were some people in the restaurant/bar who had clearly been partaking of alcohol. They didn't ruin my meal, but they served as a good reminder of what I need to keep doing in my own life.
The truth is, I have plenty of healthy escapes and many things I enjoy in my day. Did I enjoy self-hatred, hangovers, blackouts? Nope. That helps bring me back around to acceptance.
I stopped drinking because it was killing me, in more ways than one. My breasts were removed because the cancer in one of them could have gone on to become deadly, and the fear and worry in both of them would have also taken their toll.
Breasts and alcohol. Grief and gratitude. Support and recovery. Thank you to the many people near and dear to me, and also complete strangers at times, who have helped me stay on the path of recovery. Thank you to a Higher Power who puts these people in my life.
Admittedly, my post title today probably attracts more attention than some of my post titles. But it wasn't an attention-seeking ploy. When it comes to acceptance, breasts and alcohol are two areas I need plenty of it. Ongoing. That's the thing about acceptance. I needed it yesterday. I need it today. I will need it tomorrow. If I want to live with some peace and serenity anyway. There's a reason why Tara Brach calls it radical acceptance.
The other day I was heading down the road from our house on the way to the store. I drove past a woman running on the trail. I noticed her breasts and had a pang of grief for the loss of my own breasts. I can now go weeks without such pangs, but they haven't gone away. I suspect they never will. And that is okay. That is healthy grief in my book. I didn't resent her for having breasts. I didn't latch on to the unfairness of it all. I just acknowledged that I miss my breasts.
When I awoke from my bilateral mastectomy surgery in December of 2008, one of the first things I did was look at my new flat chest terrain. It was covered in bandages and such, but it was my first step toward radical acceptance. Grieving, healing, and gratitude have co-existed since then. Today, the grief is less, the physical healing long completed. It is the gratitude that propels me forward.
I have had to accept alcohol and my relationship to it for far longer than I have grieved the loss of my breasts. Most days I don't notice the many signs, stores, cans, bottles that advertise alcohol and the escape found within. (I always saw it as escape anyway.) But some days one of those reminders may bother me for just a little while. I may feel a twinge of "why can't I enjoy some of that?" Or a pull of "I wish I had an escape like that."
Last evening we went out to eat at a local establishment. We like the food, the view, and the fact that we can walk there. There were some people in the restaurant/bar who had clearly been partaking of alcohol. They didn't ruin my meal, but they served as a good reminder of what I need to keep doing in my own life.
The truth is, I have plenty of healthy escapes and many things I enjoy in my day. Did I enjoy self-hatred, hangovers, blackouts? Nope. That helps bring me back around to acceptance.
I stopped drinking because it was killing me, in more ways than one. My breasts were removed because the cancer in one of them could have gone on to become deadly, and the fear and worry in both of them would have also taken their toll.
Breasts and alcohol. Grief and gratitude. Support and recovery. Thank you to the many people near and dear to me, and also complete strangers at times, who have helped me stay on the path of recovery. Thank you to a Higher Power who puts these people in my life.
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