The Big 'Don't Care'

With the help of my therapist, I am coming to a huge, epic, life-changing conclusion: people don't care. Many don't care about themselves so how could they and why would they care about me? Since I'm empathetic (gross, I hate that word) this reality hurts me more than it would others. Me and my therapist are navigating understanding this without allowing it to break my heart more than it already has.

As we've discussed, I've been holding space for people in my life that don't want to be in it, making excuses for people's absences. The married people in my life can't call me because they are busy with their kids. Nope! They just don't care. One of my dearest friends that hasn't reached out must really be struggling for me not to hear from her. Nope! She just doesn't care. People may be adjusting to a new job, unpacking after a move, going back to school, healing from a break up, etc., but people care about what they care about despite what they have going on. So sadly, these people don't care! 

I feel like someone has given me a sh$t cake without a fork to eat it with. How do I not allow the cloud of dontcareism that has been thrown at me cause me to lose my ability to care? Because let me tell you, when you find out no one else does,  it's hard to hold on! The first step is to invest in those beautiful people who invest in me. Done! The second part is addressing the emo part of it all and that's going to take some time. To be continued...

Mammogram Part 2

The day of my mammogram, I prayed that God decrease my anxiety so I could go, get it done, and not reschedule. I was feeling antsy seeing that I'd had a weird dream that I was afraid could be a foreshadowing. I dreamed that me and my grandma were at the park and I was telling her how I was afraid of my mammogram results. She then reached over, squeezed my left breast, and a thick, red, waxy material came out of it. I woke up, not believing that could be a good sign. 

As the time rolled around to go to my appointment, I felt oddly calm. I credit this to my aunty and nephew coming with me, even though they stayed in the car. The doctor's office was oddly quiet. It was towards the end of the day. I was apprehensive, but my anxiety was at bay. 

Let me just say thank you to the sweet Jamaican woman who performed my mammogram. She was patient and kind to me as my anxiety eventually showed up and took over the show. With my left breast awkwardly compressed in the mammogram machine, I started crying and had the urge to rip my boob out of the machine (which would have been painful and possibly would have left me maimed me) and run. 

Once it was over, I was told my results would be available in a week. So I was shocked to get an email the next day saying my results were available online. I immediately rolled over and called my gyno office. 

"I can interpret your results, but moving forward,  we probably aren't the appropriate place to call to get your mammogram results," a doctor who wasn't my doctor said before putting me on hold. Uh, okay. After about 30 seconds she popped back on the line and told me everything was fine and to get a mammogram again in a year. That's when I started crying. 

You want to talk about literal tears of joy?! I was so grateful to God. I truly didn't have the bandwidth to deal with more bad news or another health issue. I'm already overwhelmed trying to lose weight and keep my marbles.

A few moments later,  I dried my eyes and took a deep breath. Another fine crisis avoided to be readdressed next year. 

Mammogram

I'm scheduled to get my first mammogram today. Am I scared? Well, I'm up in the wee hours of the morning blogging about it. You tell me. 

I don't want to go. I may cancel depending on high my anxiety is. I'm told it's going to really hurt. I'm beyond nervous and petrified something may be wrong. Listen, my who-ha has already put me through the ringer. I just found out I need gum surgery. I'm not losing any weight, and my grandma had dementia so when I forget something, I panic. Now I have to worry about my boobs? Bring a grownup is ghetto. 

Not long ago it felt like this milestone was a way down the road, now it's at my doorstep. And having watched all those breast cancer horror movies on Lifetime growing up didn't help. Man, I thought I had worries as a kid because other kids made fun of me. I didn't know what worries were! I just want to read my Babysitter's Club books and watch Nickelodeon, not live in fear of muly own breasts! 

I don't want to talk about this anymore. Wish me luck. 

The Dentist

My mouth hurts. I need to go to the dentist. 

GEEZ! Just for one day I'd like to have a task on my to-do list that doesn't involve me spiraling into a frenzied panic attack. 

I don't like going to the dentist. In elementary school, most of my life was spent at the orthodontist dealing with my braces. After they were removed, I foolishly thought my dealings with my dental hygiene were over. Please. 

My wisdom teeth came in very slowly and I felt every micro movement. From college to quite recently I nursed my dental whoas with warm water and salt or oil pulling. I'm beyond that now. I'm scared the dentist is going to tell me I need my whole jaw removed. And that wouldn't be surprising. Growing up, my grandma had dentures and by her mid 50s, after years of smoking, my mom's teeth were falling out nearly daily and she kept them in a Ziploc baggie. Needless to say, I'm not expecting good news from my dental visit. Just more b$lls&t to be worried about🫤