Yesterday was Day 1 of my 21-day makeover (which will end on February 27). I’m happy to report that I did, in fact, spend one hour working on my novel. I was torn between starting a new project with an idea I’ve been playing around with for a few months or going back to one of the three, count ‘em–THREE, unfinished projects that are gathering electronic dust in my computer. The perfectionist in me wants–nay, needs–to finish those projects. The idea of them just laying around un-done really gets under my skin. But I’m more excited about working with the new idea. Ah, what to do, what to do…
In the end, I decided that–since this is my first 21-Day Makeover–choosing the idea I was more enthusiastic about would maximize my chances at success. And friends, I need to succeed. Successfully completing this makeover will boost my self-confidence and give me the drive I need to take on more challenging projects. Excercises like this will require willpower and self-discipline, which are kind of like mental muscles. To be perfectly honest, I haven’t been very self-disciplined over the past year or so and my self-discipline muscles are pretty flabby.
Last year was incredibly difficult. Last January, at my mother’s urging, I took the test for the breast cancer gene (every female relative on my mother’s side of the family has had breast cancer at least once). As my doctors predicted and I expected, I tested positive. They recommended that I undergo a double masectomy. I stuck my head in the sand and refused to discuss it.
Then, I got engaged in May. My fiance convinced me to see an oncologist. After getting a second and third opinion (I REALLY didn’t want to believe it), I decided to go forward with the surgery. I had a double masectomy on July 13 (Friday the 13th–can you believe it?) and the reconstruction in September. It was, to say the least, incredibly emotional and the recovery process was very difficult. I’m allergic to opiates, so no fancy painkillers for me–I had to take Tylenol and muscle relaxers and white-knuckle it as I adjusted to silicon implants wedged under my chest muscles. Miserable.
During this time, I felt very very sorry for myself. I knew that I was lucky to great insurance, wonderful doctors, and access to a surgery that will prevent me from ever having to deal with the hell of breast cancer. But I also knew that I was 29 years old and having my breasts removed a few months before getting married. I knew I’d never breastfeed. I knew I was losing an integral part of my femininity. I knew that it hurt all the time and there was nothing I could do about it. I knew that it SUCKED.
This led me down a path I never want to travel again–the path of self-pity, rationalization, and self-indulgence. I felt like I DESERVED to have it easy for a while. I quit working out, started smoking the occasional cigarette and drinking more wine, stopped writing, and withdrew from my family and friends. Why? Because I’d been through a LOT, damn it, and I wanted a f*cking break for once. I just wanted to escape, to wallow in my misery–thank you very much.
Did it make me happy? No. Numb? Yes. But happy? No. Looking back, I wish I could tell six-months-ago Jen that what she actually deserved was good health, support from family and friends, and the exhiliration of pursuing a life’s dream.
Wow. I didn’t expect to write all that–I thought this would be a one-paragraph update on Day 1–but I feel good about it. I guess what I’m trying to get across is that, yeah–life sucks sometimes. And it seems like the first things we drop when life gets tough are our dreams. Don’t do that–put them first no matter what else comes your way. You won’t regret it.