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? Being 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 my 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🫤

Cowardly Custard

People talk a lot about traits they don't like in other people. Mostly everyone would agree that they don't like liars, people who steal, mean people, etc. I am finding that I don't like cowards. 

Believe it or not, I had not had much experience with cowards in my life. Growing up in the city going to public schools, kids seemed to be in your face and never afraid of anything. Honestly, the most cowardly person I knew was me. I was afraid to get in fights and afraid to speak up. I was a true scaredy cat. But what got me to thinking about cowards of late in my tanked relationship with Big Bae. 

Big Bae was a man I met on a dating app that I was with for 8 months before he ghosted me in the New Year. I, like a simp, was scared he was dead, seeing that he has heart disease. I sent texts, inquiring about his well-being which went unanswered. I feared the worse, only to notice him changing his profile pic on his socials. I guess he was just over me and didn't care enough to at least tell me so. I see this as cowardly. P disagrees. 

"He's not a coward. This is just the way people operate," he informed me. Well, I find this mode of operation to be cowardly. 

Then there was my friend of 20 years that didn't want to be my friend anymore. She didn't feel like telling me and used our mutual friend as a middle man to deliver the message. Now if that's not cowardly, I don't know what is! 

I find that cowardly behavior has become an encouraged way of life. Social media life coaches across the board agree that everyone should avoid the hard conversations and uncomfortable words to preserve their peace, turning us into a happy-go-lucky race of yellow bellies, oblivious to the pain our cowardice rains on others. 

I was a mentor to teen girls for 15 years, and the slogan for mentoring is "First, do no harm". This was why if a mentoring relationship needed to end for any reason, we encouraged closure meetings where the mentor would tell the mentee why the relationship had to end. You wouldn't believe how many folks skipped out on those meetings, leaving the mentee to carry the load. Again, cowardly. 

What seems so bad about this unique brand of cowardice is that it's not based in fear. Child Holly who hid from confrontation would understand that. It seems to be based in this I-don't-give-a-f$ckness that is devoid of any empathy or respect. It just rubs me as low, but what else would you expect from a coward? 

Ladylike

When I was a kid, even during my tomboy years, I would see older women who weren't all dolled up and wonder what happened to them. It wasn't that they presented as masculine, but more like gender neutral beings that gave up on makeup and any type of form-fitting frocks. They would tend to have on varying combinations of clothing that gave them the potato sack look. Many had even traded in stylish sneakers for colorless, drab foot coverings with no laces. I realize now that at some point these women had just given up. For some reason, keeping up appearances can register as just too much for some women as they age. 

All the way up until my grandma was diagnosed with dementia, she pressed her hair daily and wore pressed powder. She was in her '80s. I find it difficult to find the strength to paint my nails, which I always loved doing, and I just turned 40. Before Beyonce made it popular, my grandma used to tell me that being pretty hurt, referring to the figurative and literal pain of keeping yourself up as a woman. Now that I get the full scope, I have to applaud women who put in the effort because it is a lot. 

My closet is full of dresses. Pretty ones I used to love to put on and literally spin around in. Making sure I had a nice collection of summer dresses used to be my thang. Now I have to stop myself from Googling where I can get some potato sack gear. I don't want to lose my desire to be feminine, but I've been hearing the sound of men's sweat pants calling my name. I see married women with kids and jobs on social media who still put forth the effort. Amazing! I'd be rocking back and forth in a corner wearing a bedsheet. 

In an effort to keep it sexy I have decided that today I will put on chapstick. Maybe staying connected to my feminine self starts off with a series of baby steps. 

The Compliment Collector

I have to say, being on a plus size dating app is fun. It's nice to chat with men who are into me for a change. Plus, I am a sucker for a good story. So I love to hear the men talk about their jobs and past relationships. And, ashamedly, I love when they pay me compliments. When these guys message me sweet words about my smile, eyes, and figure, I light up like a Christmas tree! 

You see, in high school I could not have paid a guy to say I was pretty. Then, in college, I was overlooked for BEAUTIFUL thin girls that literally looked like models. I was also ignored. I could have done the banana dance in the middle of the cafe, and no man would have noticed. As a young adult, men who said nice things to me wanted sex or gas money. Finally, in middle aged, men are waking up to see what a dish I am. 

I wish I was one of these women who didn't need male validation and could solely exist off of my self esteem alone. But I'm not, so give me more compliments for 200 Alex! There are things I am admitting out loud at my big age. I like when men make me feel beautiful as pathetic as it is. I am hopeful that one day my confidence will be enough to get me through. It just won't be one day soon, lol. 

Empathic

This weekend, my therapist diagnosed me with being an empath. I frowned. I do believe that being empathic is a a real thing, but I also believe it's a diagnosis that has become overused. It seems like everyone with a sad face is calling themselves empathetic. However, my therapist says this is why I feel things so deeply and can't move on from life's hurts and cruelties. A part of me wishes my grandmother and elementary school teachers were here to hear this. They long ago diagnosed me with "being too sensitive". But that's only because I spent kindergarten through 5th grade in tears. Now look at me! I am emotionally o-fficial! Empath out. 

The Big Mourn

For the past few years, I have felt stuck on repeat in my life; having the same issues and not making any progress. So many of my friends have started businesses, traveled, and just done big things, whereas I have felt frozen in time. Of late, I have been forcing myself to really meditate on why and try to make myself accountable. The long and short of it is I'm hurt, sad, and don't know how to move past these emotions. 

I'd say that the biggest issues that I deal with are grief and abandonment. I feel that these things go hand-in-hand because they both are behind this baseline feeling of loss and needing to mourn. 

Yikes! No wonder no one wants to do self-work! It sucks and it's draining. I'm telling you now that it's more fun to get a tooth pulled than it is to really have to grieve your mom's death almost ten years later. But it has to be done. 

I also have to change my mindset when it comes to the abandonments. I have to get real and just acknowledge that I don't feel like I was abandoned, I was. Once I can put the period at the end of some of these friendships, I think I can go from missing people to mourning them so I can move on. I know what you are thinking: But Holly, your old friends aren't dead!" Believe me, the way some of them have vanished, it feels like they are.

Yesterday, I attempted to start the work on Friend X. I was crying five minutes in. It was like trying to slowly pull duct tape off a wound, which was taking off skin as you did it. I considered this person a sister. But she is a huge emotional owie that has to go. I think my psyche agrees. I had a dream that I grabbed her hand and we were running with her trailing behind me. This feels like my mind's way of trying to dispose of these emotions. 

I do believe that it was the great H-Town that told us that emotions make you cry sometimes. Hopefully, on the other side of this mountain of Kleenex, I'm unstuck and ready to make moves. Friend X is in active mourn mode. My mom is a bit too heavy but I will get to her, which would leave a trillion more owies to address. Here's to progress!