Tag Archives: death

A Simple & Good Man: 5th Would-Be Wedding Anniversary

March 18, 2017 Jessica 2 Comments

“A widow doesn’t move on; she moves forward”. I read that on a blog that I follow. I can’t agree with it more.

My brother and I had a long conversation on Monday. He talked about 2010 when he lived with me. It was a tough time in his life as he was having some mental health issues. This happened at the same time that Paul and I’s relationship began. He told me about a couple talks that Paul and him had had together. He told me of a conversation from 2014…the last year Paul was alive and the year that my brother began to finally be on the mend. Paul had told him that he has finally gotten to “know the brother that Jessica told me about” because all those years ago, I told Paul over and over “this isn’t my brother. This is an impostor” when my brother was going through the most challenging times of his life. He told me that Paul told him that he was his brother. Jon told me about how much Paul’s words meant to him because to him he was like our Papa (who passed in 2009)–“he was a simple and good man. A man a few words”. Our Papa was my brother’s role model and he loved him dearly as did I so this was a great compliment and it made me weep.

My brother went on to ask me if I had any animosity towards him for the terrible things that he had done in the past. I quickly replied ‘no’ and he insisted that I be honest. I went on to elaborate on how I feel about the whole situation. I love my brother. We have a very special relationship. And I hold nothing against him for what he did when he wasn’t in his right mind. And how Paul reacted to the situation with my brother made me fall even more in love with him. He was the calm and the rock in my life. Even though he didn’t understand, he was tolerant and didn’t judge. So I don’t feel that my brother took anything away from our relationship–on the contrary, what was going on at the time acted as a catalyst in our relationship. It sped it along even more so–in hindsight, this was a good thing given that we would only have a handful of years together.

A co-worker of mine that has become a friend over the last year or so had tears in her eyes when I told her about what my brother had said about Paul. She went on to tell me how incredibly strong I am; that I’ve been through so much and yet I’m an accomplished and a sweet person.

I’ve thought on this. In the moment, I was taken aback. I’ve heard these words before from various people; especially since Paul has passed. I never know what to say or how to feel. I don’t really think of myself as any sort of extraordinary or a particularly strong person. I don’t think of myself as courageous. What I do think of myself is that I’m a person of perseverance. I’d like to say (and probably have said) that I take my life a day at a time but anyone who knows me knows that that isn’t exactly true. I don’t really like to leave things to chance and spontaneity gives me anxiety. I’m very much a planner. I like to, or rather have a habit of, obsessing about what I want to do, what I need to do and how I will accomplish that goal to my most perfect outcome. Although over the years, I’ve definitely learned that life isn’t quite that simple. Since Paul has passed, I’ve tried my best to incorporate a part of his soul into myself and into my every day life. I jump hurdles as they come and I try to enjoy my life each day.

It doesn’t do much good to be defeated. Actually it does you no good at all to be a defeatist. I have met these types and I’m related to these types. And I refuse to be a victim. Even in the face of tragedy, I refuse to be defeated. There’s something that you can take away from each and every situation that you come into contact with–I truly believe that. A few examples:

My dad disowned me several times: You have to accept people for who and what they are. You can’t hang your hopes on what you think a person should or could be. You should always ‘consider the source’ when you are met with statements that are crushing.

I was sexually abused: I have been able to achieve forgiveness and to let bitterness go.

My high school bf broke my heart: The value of family was reinforced when my brother drove to see me every day after work for a long while. I learned that heated words and passion do not equate love like it does in the movies.

My relationship after that: It is sometimes better to be alone. In fact, it’s absolutely necessary to have solitude; to discover who you are separate from another human being. You should always follow your instincts. And if your family does not like your partner, you should heed that as a huge warning.

My brother had a emotional breakdown in my home; We almost lost him: Each person is definitely fighting a battle that you have no clue about. What it looks like to you and what it truly is are two very different things. Sometimes it takes a lot of time, patience, therapy and relapses before you can see the light at the end of the tunnel. I love my brother more than words could ever express and hold no ill feeling towards him.

I was paralyzed by this obscene amount of weight that I’d accumulated over a lifetime: The lessons learned here are never ending. You are worth so much more than you give yourself credit for. It isn’t selfish to put your needs before the needs/wants of others. You deserve to be healthy. Being fat is hard. I deserve to live a life that I’m proud of. Fucking dance even though you look ridiculous.

The man that changed it all for me died on the night of my gastric bypass surgery: Again, so many things. To experience true love, no matter the length of time, is priceless. Terrible things happen for absolutely no reason. You are capable of anything. The bitter makes the sweet sweeter. Love as though you’ve never experienced pain. Say what you mean; mean what you say. True colors are shown amidst the times of tragedy.

My BFF of over 20 years quit me: The loss of a true friendship is just as painful as the death of your husband. People experience grief in their own manner. You can’t make someone love you. I deserve to have a friendship that does not make me question my worth. Just because a friendship ends doesn’t mean that the friendship didn’t happen; it had a purpose.

Skin removal surgery: They say your body is your temple; well you feel free to jazz that temple up. I’ve worked very hard to lose over 180 lbs and I have no guilt over the vanity that is perceived in me having my skin taken off. I fucking love not feeling the need to HAVE TO HAVE a bra on at all times. Working towards having an equilibrium between the inside and outside.

Well I surely went off on a tangent there…ultimately to come to this: Life is what you make it. I’m always working towards making mine great.

Today was our Would-Be 5th anniversary. This one was a hard one; what the hell am I saying? They all are hard ones. Paul and I dreamed together out loud. It is something that I loved about our relationship. And our 5th wedding anniversary was going to be epic. We were going to go to Ireland–after all, we were married on St. Patrick’s Day.

Last night I couldn’t sleep. I was too much in my own mind. I ended up dragging my wedding gown out. At first I just opened the bag and looked upon it but then I wanted to wear it. I decided I was going to take a picture with Paul. I put the dress on…I didn’t even have to unzip what used to be a fitted bodice. Even though I had to hold it up, I still felt like a beautiful cake topper. I thought about how I happened upon my $1800 valued ‘Craigslist Killer Dress” that I paid $300 for (including the can-can, a bustier and a black dress).

We made a Wedding Ceremony Wine Box. Inside this box was our favorite bottle of wine (Tres Suenos Anniversary Red), 2 wine glasses and letters to one another. My sister decorated the inside of the box with childhood pictures of us, our Save-the Date card and a picture of my grandparents on their wedding day. My friend and our Officiant said beautiful words about the box on our wedding day. In the letters, we told one another why we were marrying them. If ever there came a time that it all became too much and we thought we may separate, we would open the box, drink the wine and read the letters. If that time didn’t come then on our 5th wedding anniversary, we would open the box and enjoy the wine and letters together. {We wrote letters to one another on our first anniversary and I wrote one on our second. But he never did.}

Today I went to the lake where we were married. I opened the box in the very spot where we closed it together 5 years before. The wind was blowing intensely just as it had on our wedding day. The water wasn’t as high as it was 5 years ago but I could still hear the sounds of the lake as I sat reading the letters and sipping the red wine. My letters were all several pages; his several sentences. I cried as I read the line “I love you more than you will ever know!!!!” and “I’ll continue to give you all that I have”. I held the letter to my chest, took a deep breath and felt the tears land on my fingers. In my letter, I talked about all the things that I adored about him and the things that were going on in our lives and about the things I was most proud of at the time. I stood in the same spot that I stood 5 years ago and I listened to Train’s “Marry Me” which was the song that I was supposed to walk down the aisle to but Paul forgot the stereo. Then I closed my eyes as I listened to Blake Shelton’s “God Gave Me You” which was the song that played during our first dance.

After that, I packed it all up and met up with one of my girlfriends for pedis and lunch. She was frustrated as she told me that her husband and her had just gotten into a full on argument. I thought to myself “I wish I could fight with Paul about money”. I listened to her intently as she told me about their spat. Paul and I had had these types of quarrels as well. And I acted much as she did in this situation so I absolutely knew where she was coming from. My unsolicited advice that I gave to her was that there was a compromise in there. There isn’t sense in being so strict with finances that it makes you unhappy even if the end result of financial independence is within arm’s reach because…tomorrow is not promised.

I’ve said many times that I don’t have too many regrets about my life with Paul but the one that I do have is in regards to my rigidness. I wish I had been softer with our finances and allowed for more spontaneity in our everyday lives. I do that now as a result. Life is meant to be lived. Everything in life is about balance. When you find that balance you find harmony and with harmony, you find happiness. That’s what it is all about.

Tonight I had planned to have pizza and drinks with Lisa and our friends but I cancelled. As much as I wanted to be this rock of stability…the poster child of triumph over grief…I wasn’t. What have I done? I’ve put on Paul’s shirt, the necklace that has the 2 pendants that he gave me over the years and his wedding band, my wedding set and bands. I’ve sat on the couch and wandered in and out of thought. I’ve cried a lot. I’ve used my yoga breathing to try to find my center. But mostly, I’ve just thought on how much I miss that goofy guy. I thought about how much I wish he was here. I’ve thought about how much it hurts and how the pain has not seemed to change in these types of moments.

Please hug your loved ones extra tight tonight. Tell them you love them and mean it. Think beyond your own selfish wants and needs. Think more on the needs of your partner. Find balance in meeting their needs and satisfying your own. But, above all, make this day count.

Love,

Jess

Let the Sad Pass Through You–Even Slowly

October 25, 2016 Jessica Leave a comment

Thirty two years ago at 0914 my mother in law brought my husband into this world.

As a child, my father did not believe in celebrating birthdays. As an adult, I fucking LOVE birthdays. Paul and I always celebrated. And what better way to celebrate than to drink yourself back to toddler-hood. You know what I mean?

“Tell me more about him…tell me about your first celebrated birthdays”

This was the question my sweet, well-intentioned girlfriend asked me. It is one of the reasons that she stole my heart. She does not just tolerate Paul’s memory and love, she actively shares in it.

Last night was a bad night. On the eve of his birthday, I was wrapped in emotions. I was lonely. I was mad. I was devastated. And when I read that text, I thought “Oh man. That’s a great question.” And I couldn’t think of anything in particular. Only snipets. The birthdays ran across my mind, not in sequence but a jumble of snapshots of birthdays memories over the years. And the harder I tried to pin it down, the harder I tried to sort it out–the more difficult a time I had remembering. The tears welled up and I started to cry. I brought up my Facebook and realized how much I post. I scolded myself. “Why the hell do you post so much? It is going to take forever.” I was trying to scroll through the years to find each birthday. And I cried. I reached out to my friends. Trying to find some type of outlet because the hurt would not subside.

2013paulbday — His 29th birthday! 2013 We were all the best of friends then.

And just when I thought I’d reached the peak…I saw the last picture of my used-to-be best friend, on the last birthday that she celebrated with him. It was 2013. I was out of nursing school. She was the thinnest I’d ever seen her and I had packed on some serious poundage over the last couple years. Paul was so excited to have us together. He looked sharp in his new purple button up.

We always pre-gamed to save money at the bar. I don’t remember who bought the Tennessee Honey Whiskey but we took it as a personal challenge to drink the whole bottle. She got sick at the bar, I held her hair back, she threw up on my dress and hers.

My heart literally ached as I thought about this night. As I thought about the following year which was his last birthday…his 30th. She didn’t make it to that birthday. She had come to every prior birthday. Even the first one in 2010, when we had a surprise party at Don Quixote where I’d gathered enough ‘donations’ to give him cash to put a CD player in his truck.

I couldn’t help myself as I typed in her number. I don’t have her number saved as if it will be less tempting to message her but I try. I sent her the photo with my word vomit. She did actually respond. And I cried some more. She told me “I’ve always cared about you and always will”. It was like relief and a knife to the heart all at once. I can’t really explain it. She (or rather the memory of what our friendship and life used to be) is a comfort to me. She is a connection to Paul. And sometimes, I like long for that hard core–as some sort of comfort.

I frantically kept trying to piece together the birthdays since I couldn’t remember. I finally did it. The frenzy in my soul calmed and my tears ceased. My eyes hurt. They are swollen. My head aches.

Love. Death. Grief. It is a kick to the gut, man. And you just never know when it will hit you hardest. My buddy gave me the best advice, like usual, last night. She told me to not “fight the sad and to let it pass through” me. I took a deep breath in and out. Actually, I’m doing that right now. It will pass.

Today is my beloved husband’s would have been 32nd birthday. I’ve been up most of the night. I’m off work and plan to keep busy. I have lots to do today.

Remembering Paul is my biggest comfort in the world. And it has just become my necessity. I live and celebrate my life in his honor. I feel compelled to do so. To do any less would be a disservice.

skydive2015 — On his first birthday without him (10/25/2015), I went skydiving. He never actually wanted to go skydiving with me stating “why in the world would I jump out of a perfectly good airplane”…I thought about this as we climbed to 10,000ft and the airplane rocked back and forth and sounded like it would fall apart. I thought I’d say to him…but I think we are better off jumping from this plane.

Last year and this year I threw birthday parties for him. My mom asked me last week why I am still having a birthday party when he isn’t here. That really threw me off but my answer “because I feel that I need to”. And that’s the truth. Maybe I won’t always do this but for right now I want to. I like celebrating him even in his absence. I love getting together with our friends. It makes my heart happy to spend some time with those who were touched by him.

shotsforpaul — Even if I can’t remember every particular, one thing was and is always the same for birthday celebrations: epic loudness and shots! This is Jared. He was a dear friend to my Paul. He is good people. :)

paul32 — Those friends that will always have your back and always be by your side. Rob has said it many time since the day I married Paul “your stuck with us now”. I’m certainly thankful to be stuck with them. Celebrating Paul’s birthday at Don Quixote’s 2016.

Yesterday I had a phone interview with a journalist in the UK for a couple upcoming interviews for two magazine offers I have received. They want to publish a story about my weight loss journey and Paul. The journalist has a British accent which made me giggle and was a bit distracting at first. But once I settled into the conversation, it was great. She asked some of the same questions that the previous journalist did but then she asked some different ones. She asked about how we met and about his health history. They have kinda titled what I call my accomplishments as my bucket list. I find it a little funny. I guess it is a sort of bucket list but I make this list yearly.

I got to reflect on some very good memories that Paul and I shared. And I reflected again on how much my life has changed. How much I have changed. How much I have experienced because of him. I’m fortunate in that way. To have had a love that inspires me. That motivates me. That has had the ability to help me push on when I all I wanted to do was fall.

I hope you all take away a positive from this. My message is usually the same. But I still want to repeat it. Live out loud, guys. Seize your day. Don’t put off for tomorrow.

To live is the rarest thing in the world. Most people exist, that is all. -Oscar Wilde

skydiving2015 — It’s okay to feel fearful of the jump. But do it anyways. I promise…it is worth it.

Leaving The Dichotomy: Finding a Genuine Me

October 14, 2016 Jessica 1 Comment

With only 26 days until my BIG 360 abdominoplasty–anxiety, emotions and to-do lists are through the roof. Everyone asks ‘are you ready?’ ‘ Are you nervous?’ Well…the answer is as follows: FUCK YEA! (And if you were close to Paul–you read that as ‘fooooooook yaaaaaa’)

I have been preparing for this all year. I’m not really nervous about the surgery. I’m not sure if it’s because I’m a nurse or because I have the utmost confidence in my surgeon or if it’s because I’ve gone through it before but I’m just not really worried about that. I know they will take great care of me. What I am nervous about: the psychological. When I had my brachioplasty and mastoplasty done earlier this year, I really underestimated the psychological toll that it would have on me. After having some wicked panic attacks, bouts of depression and anxiety—I pushed my 360 from May 2016 to November 2016.

In preparation, I saw my psychologist that I saw prior to my bariatric surgery. We had an amazing session and he really helped me get a better grasp on what has been going on in my mind and how to better deal with it this go around. So let’s dive into it.

What’s my problem?

I have thought this entire time that I had a bit of body dysmorphic disorder but after speaking to him, it isn’t so much that as it is that I’m experiencing a dichotomy.

a division or contrast between two things that are or are represented as being opposed or entirely different.

Basically, the more I change the less I’m me–in my mind. He assured me that this is very common in bariatrics but that my circumstance intensified this phenomenon for me. As most bariatric patients when they look in the mirror and have a freak out moment “OMG what have I done? I’m not me anymore! I don’t look like Jessica!!” they would have a spouse or significant other or best friend that would be their anchor that would assure them that they are the same person. If Paul were here, he would be able to stop me in these moments and say “Yes you are! Your smile is the same. Your eyes. I love you.” etc… Each day they would come home and do the same routine.You might still gab with your best gal pal. You’d still be doing all the things that make you–YOU. These people are your anchors and they tether you to WHO you are. I was cheated out of this. I lost Paul. Then 6 weeks later my best friend of 20+ years cut off all contact with me. Because of the grief experienced by all of my family, I was disconnected, in a sense, from them. Essentially, I’ve just been free floating–not connected to myself.

There are interactions that add to me feeling disconnected with myself. I’ve talked about this before–in my mind I’m the fat girl. It is who I have always been and in my mind I’m still that girl. There have been countless instances where people have made comments or looked at me like I’m skinny. BUT in my mind (and I probably wear it on my face), I’m like ‘what the fuck did you just say to me? Don’t you know I’m a fat girl, too?’ And these instances make me feel like I’m even more not me.

To add insult to injury, I have a large amount of guilt. I feel that Paul was jilted. And although I know rationally that I haven’t taken anything from him, I feel almost that the more I change, experience life and go on with out him that I am jipping him. He was there through nursing school and he supported me in my decision to get healthy but he doesn’t get to reap the rewards of these things. And it fucking sucks!

So the panic that I felt after surgery was pretty much all of this–wrapped up in an anxiety ridden ball of mess. And I exploded. Because plastic surgery is instant. With the weight loss, it has been gradual. And the blows to my ‘identity’ are like little pricks. But when you go under the knife then you wake and ‘BOOM’ you look like someone else…it’s overwhelming!

What’s the solution?

I’ve gotta change my mindset. I’ve got to realize a few things here. The first is that of change. VERY few people actually like change. We are all creatures of habit. I have to recognize and accept that I DO NOT have control over change. Change was ultimately going to occur whether Paul died or not. Would my path have been different than this? Yes. But it was going to be different nonetheless. I could look at it this way: what if I didn’t have the surgery? I could be 400 lbs with DM, HTN, CAD and working my way to a heart attack. Change is hard. But what makes THIS change hardest is that I had a hand in the change. I DECIDED that I didn’t want to be obese anymore so I CHANGED it. I DECIDED that I didn’t want saggy boobs and bat wings so I CHANGED it. I DECIDED that I didn’t want to have a flap of skin sitting on top my vagina so I’m CHANGING it! All of these things, I’ve perpetuated the change. And referring back to the beginning…the dichotomy…here lies the problem.

My psychologist asked me a really insightful question: “Jessica, do you think that you were living a genuine life before?”

I really had to think about it. I thought I was but, now, I look back and know that I wasn’t. I think about alllll the reasons that I had that motivated me to change: I wanted to travel, I wanted to be active, I wanted to be social, I wanted to sky dive, I wanted to ride rollercoasters, I wanted to dance, etc. I didn’t do ANY of these things as I reached my heaviest weight and THAT was disingenuous. So in actuality, it is NOT that I’m leaving Paul or that the more I change that I’m not me–it is that the more I change, the MORE genuine of a life I am living. I am being true to who I am, how I think and what I want. And I probably am living a more genuine life than ever before and I am coming into my own. Living my life and having all these experiences and accomplishing things that Paul and I dreamed of is not leaving him or jilting him: it is honoring him. I’m wearing my Paul Badge of Honor every day of my life now.

sailing2016 — Checking it off my bucket list. Sailing October 2016

I have felt significantly better being able to put all of this together. It is a working progress just as I am. I’m extra emotional as we are now at the end of the year. October-December used to be my all time favorites but now they are riddled with bitter sweet memories, heart wrenching moments and even more intense thoughts of my dear Paul. October 25 he would have been 32. November 12 marks the second anniversary of his death, my surgery and the end/beginning of my life. Then we have alllll the holidays—all his favorites. It’s a rough time of year for me and the family. We miss him dearly. And it is hard. It helps to talk about him. I’ve been seeing him in my dreams more often lately. And for a moment in my slumber all is well and then I wake up.

Pushing forward. That’s what I do. That’s what you should do too. Paul doesn’t get to be here but I am and you are. I refuse to waste it even though I’m still working on my identity.

Much Love!

mollie — Batgirl getting ready for Lisa’s 40th Birthday!

How I Cope with Being Dumped

Image August 1, 2016 Jessica Leave a comment

Betrayal. Hurt. Loss. Relationships. Sisters. These are all terms that come to mind when I think of two significant people in my life. I’ve been silent about it thinking that I didn’t want to put into forever ink what I couldn’t take back and what might hurt the possible future I might have with these two wonderful women. Although, now I think that this is a blog I need to write as it weighs heavily on my mind and my heart. I am certain that there are other widows out there who have experienced these same things, unfortunately.

I wrote recently about a renewed hope that I had in a lost friendship. I was vague about the details as I don’t know who, if anyone, in her circle reads my blogs. I didn’t want to add pressure to a very new beginning and weak foundation. I feel now though that I want to disclose what has transpired, how I’ve been impacted and how I’m coping. I think the loss of a friendship of our calibur is significant. I have had to grieve a long side grieving for my husband. It has been unimaginably difficult and there is not a clear cut way of how to handle it.

Those who are closest to me know that my best friend of more than 20 years broke up with me less than 2 months after my Paul took his last breath. To add insult to injury, she did not give me any reason other than she didn’t want to speak to me. To say I was devastated is a gross understatement. I do not have the vocabulary to accurately describe the amount of pain this brought me. I can not begin to tell you what it does to a person to lose two of the most solid pillars of their life in the matter of 2 months. The only way I can begin to explain is to first tell you how important she was to me and how close she was to my husband. Paullium is what she called him; Ab-zilla is what he called her. He considered her his sister and his mother was thankful that her only child got to experience the love of a sibling as he had found it in her. When her parents turned their back on her and she was leaving her toxic marriage, Paul did not question me for a second when I asked if she could move in with us. Her and her two young girls lived with us for months in our mediocre 1100 square foot home. There were many evenings that we shared as a ‘family’. Those girls were like our children. They loved their Paulie. And when they got their own apartment, we enjoyed times together there as well. We liked to Jingle Jammie shop at Old Navy and have pj evenings. The girls loved to have ice cream just like Paulie. The marshmallow gun fight we had just that one evening is a memory I won’t ever forget. That last year Paul was here, we had a lot going on in our lives as did she. She wasn’t around as much. She worked a lot. Paul constantly invited her over and asked me if I thought he did anything wrong. He missed our times together. So did I. He still loved her dearly.

The night he died. She was my first call. The night was a blur but I remember her arriving promptly at our newly built home (we’d only owned it for 4 months). I remember her face as she looked at me, as she stayed strong for me and she comforted me. And when the funeral home people arrived, she took me in her car and drove around while they took his lifeless body. She slept with me that night and for I don’t know how many nights after that. She went to the funeral home the next day to make arrangements and sat in that room with me with my mom, his mom and his grandmother as we made arrangements that I wasn’t prepared to make. She was there as I made the decision to cremate him against his family’s wishes. And as I cried copious amounts of tears that night, she stroked my hair. She wrote his obituary. She stood by my side. She was everything I didn’t even know that I needed. Paul and I were supposed to go on this family trip around New Year’s that year. The tickets were already bought. And she took his place and we went to Florida to meet up with his family. I’ll never forget that trip. She was deathly afraid of rollercoasters but she got on them with me. We met up with a friend at Cocoa Beach, we all drank wine and spread some of his ashes. We were planning to get tattoos in his honor on her birthday (NYE) but in a terrible turn of events I wasn’t able to go–my car blew up, Mollie ate a bag of Dove chocolate which landed her in the puppy ICU. I spent that first NYE without my Paul, by myself, in our house and I cried all night. She got that tattoo. I was so upset with her. But I had already started to develop this new life’s motto to live as if it’s your last…and I texted her the next day to tell her I was upset about that night but I wanted to let it go.

My life, again, was never the same. I’ll never forget being at I-240 & S Sante Fe at a red stop light. It was January 3, 2015. I had called her twice. She never answered. I told her I wanted to see her, to bring the girls their Christmas gifts, to bring her birthday gifts and to show her my brand new car. She told me she was busy. I told her I’d come to wherever she was. She told me that she didn’t want to talk to me. I asked her for how long. She told me that she didn’t know. In true dramatic girl fashion, I asked ‘ever?’ and she responded ‘maybe’. That was the longest red light ever. And I could have sworn I felt my heart literally break all over again. I would go months before she gave me any inkling as to why she never spoke to me again.

After 20 years of friendship, we have seen our fair share of fights, ups/downs, good times, better times and everything that lies between so I just KNEW that this would blow over. No way my best friend was no longer my bff. I can’t even tell you how many hours I spent analyzing what went wrong, what I did and trying to figure how to fix it. I was going to counseling twice a week at this time and I’m thankful for that. Had I not already been in grief counseling, I swear that my mom would have had to commit me. My therapist assured me that it would pass and to focus on what I could control–and those were my actions and reactions. I tried really hard not to hound her. I tried not to be my typical self. I’m the person who will work at something, rearrange it over and over until it’s unrecognizable. You know the type. So I just sent her periodic messages. Funny memes. Sweet texts. No response.

It wasn’t until months later when she would text me to ask about a blow up mattress that I would get a response as to what happened. In short, she didn’t feel that she could be the friend I needed, that she couldn’t be a friend to me. She told me that she would never be able to talk about a break up with a boyfriend or such…because any ‘bad’ thing that would happen to her would never compare to my loss. She told me that she was resentful of me…that she thought I lied about my dog being in the hospital and that something I said upset her. I said something to the extent of ‘this is the worst day ever’ and that that wasn’t true because Paul died. I tried to reason with her. To tell her that I loved her. To tell her that I would never compare losses. That I don’t think that way. That I was better now and that she didn’t have to hold me up like she did within that first month that he died. That I was in therapy and I was doing better. She ultimately told me that we grieve in different ways…that basically I bathe in his memory and she wants to push it out and forget it.

I have reached out to her since periodically. I’ve tried many different ways of ‘getting over’ this. I’ve tried letting her go, cold turkey. Tried to just not think of her. That just didn’t work for me. I tried to ‘get it right’ in my mind. To try to accept ‘it is what it is’. I tried to be calm and let it just be. Never to text her. Okay…maybe just a couple texts. Share just a picture.Nothing has really ‘worked’ for me. Well intentioned friends and family have given me their wisdom “you’re better off without her” “just focus on your positive relationships” “she’ll come around” “it’ll blow over”. I try to put her out of my mind but I just feel like there’s this missing piece. Like it’s incomplete. I’ve gotten better though. I’d say for about the first 9+ months, I literally had to tell myself ‘no, Jessica. She doesn’t care’ every time something happened that I wanted to tell her. It was like unlearning a habit. It’s gotten better. I still feel compelled to reach out to her but most often stop myself. Such wasn’t the case of the 4th of July this year when I reached out to her with a memory. That day was amazing. I had hope for the first time within a year and a half. And she told me she wanted to talk. And we did, text, for the next few days and it was so great. We planned to meet but that day came and she cancelled at the last minute. The messages stopped. I felt like a girl that belonged in that movie ‘He’s Just Not that in to You”. I tried to resist but after several days, I texted her. She just told me that she hadn’t intended to ignore me and life was busy.

I was crushed. Again. Lisa and I had a long talk that evening. She told me I had to stop. I had to stop reaching out to her. That I needed to see what she was saying…and all her actions are saying that she just doesn’t care..at least not right now. And she said those words “she just doesn’t want or can’t be your friend”. And I was overwhelmed with emotion…I was heart-broken. I was embarrassed. I was sad. And the next day I downloaded self-help books trying to reach at something to help me find myself some peace.

That was almost 3 weeks ago. And still, I didn’t get it. Not until last week. When I had a terrible accident. I don’t even know why I did it; maybe I was trying to tug at some type of heart string…look for some glimmer of love…but I texted her a photo of my wreck. She texted back and did ask if I was okay. And the next day, I got it. Exactly what Lisa said “she just doesn’t want to be your friend”. She isn’t a bad person. I hope I haven’t painted her in a negative light. She’s just a person. And I can only speculate as to what exactly happened. I don’t know. I probably never will and I’m learning to be okay with that. My dearest friend Kati, my calm sense of reason, gave me the best analogy about wounds and experiences. I wouldn’t do it justice by trying to reiterate her words but the jist of it is that she was a huge part of my life and who I am. We had some AMAZING memories and times together that have forever changed my life. And I’m going to get to that point when I think of her or of a memory and I feel that pull at my heart that I will think ‘yep, it hurts because it was that good’. I’m trying to think of her kinda like when I think of Paul…like when I cry and my heart quite literally aches; I KNOW that it is because our love was something special, something truly great and that it made my heart bigger. It’s amazing to me but I am not bitter. Not even a little bit. My therapist asked me earlier last year to think about how I would feel if she came back a year later and if I’d be bitter. And I’m not. I’m happy I experienced a love like ours; a friendship like ours. I’m a better person for having had her in my life. And I think to myself, I’ll always keep my same cell number. Ya know, just in case she ever wants to reach out to me. I’ll still be here. And I want to get to that point. Like those friends you don’t see or talk to ever but then you do and you catch up a little and it makes you smile. That’s what I’d love to have one day.

headoncollision16 — I had a rear tire blow out on the highway going 78mph. I lost complete control and crash HEAD ON into the center cement barrier. Luckily, I was okay and no one else was involved.

Just recently I experienced another unexpected blow. My baby sister unfriended me on Facebook. No blow up; no reasoning. She merely responded to my voicemail “I do not wish to speak to you. I need space from this family.” Enraged. Crushed. Perplexed. All of the above. I still am pretty clueless as to what is and has happened. She has been one of those that haven’t had the best outcome from Paul’s death. Not that there’s a great one but I’d say she hasn’t probably coped in the most healthy and effective manners. She, too, was by my side when Paul passed. She was stern and tight lipped. I knew what he meant to her. Our Papa was her everything. He was her idol and her beacon as to what a good man is. We lost him in 2009 and Jamie was understandably crushed. When Paul entered our lives in 2010, they were instant buddies. Paul had that way about him and he accepted her completely. She was his family. She looked up to him and they had a wonderful, quirky banter between them. It delighted my soul to see my sister happy and to love this man that I loved so dearly. I’d say my sister comes by many of her mannerisms quite honestly from our grandmother. She keeps it in and holds her head tall. She is unbelievably stubborn but has a heart of gold. I didn’t see her shed many tears for Paul; although, I knew that on the inside that she was shattered. In the midst of my grief, I was not able to be a big sister to her and to try to console her and encourage her to seek help and that the stuff you build inside eats at you until it finds its way out. She has said a couple times over the last year or so that I didn’t understand what she lost and while I did offer my ear to her, she never took me up on that. I have felt her pull away and I have given her her space thinking that she would find her way in time. And I was crushed on a recent sister date that I thought was going swimmingly, when she told me I was a shitty sister. Basically that I wasn’t there. I tried to explain to her that I was always there even if I wasn’t up her butt. My words didn’t hold much meaning with her and I sat there and listened as she expressed her discontent with our family. I tried to tell her what family meant to me and that her family loved her dearly but it fell on deaf ears. After I received the response from her that she didn’t want to speak to me, I reached out to her fiance. I pleaded with him to help my sister…to guide her…to help her find happiness. I was not accusatory. I felt like I was really at his mercy but I was not greeted with kindness in return as his reply was as follows:

You still don't get it after all this time. When Paul died he left very big shoes to be filled in everyone's lives. He didn't text once a week asking how are you, he texted saying come over or im coming to get you twice a week at least. When he said im here for you, he listened, he didn't put in his opinion or judge or say how it should have been done. When he said his door was open he made sure it was physically open when we got there. He never said maybe we should see a therapist. he never said she's not the same girl, he just learned how to love the new one. He never said she wasnt ok, he just showed up to lend a ear to listen or a shoulder to cry on. And he DEFINITELY never said this is not my sister. Im not saying your a terrible sister, but you have not even come close to what she lost when she lost Paul.Sorry to be so blunt but if you deny any of this just know, that's why you two aren't close anymore

I didn’t say anything; although, my first reaction was ‘SHUT YOUR FUCKING MOUTH’. I held my tongue. I love her. I want the best for her. Even if it’s sitting on the sidelines until she tags me in. Saving my patience for when she comes back. I hope she comes back. I’ll still be here. And when that time comes, we will sit down and have a conversation about Paul. About what he meant to both of us. That his death is not some type of competition. His death is a reason to pull closer and not a reason to cause any type of rift between anyone; especially, not between us. It is never acceptable to use Paul’s death as a reason to shun me. His life is not one to put against mine. His integrity, actions, heart are not ones to place head to head and toe to toe next to my own. He was my partner. He was my husband. He was her brother. He was her friend. They are not to be compared. I have not made that abundantly clear to her in past times because I’ve walked on eggshells trying not to upset her. I have done her a disservice by allowing these actions/thoughts/behaviors to continue. This is a situation where I should have stood strong and voiced my thoughts even if it meant she got angry with me and cut me out of her life. Because now I see that she has done that regardless. Nevertheless, family is family. Our family is amazing. I have seen them pull through some difficult times together. I’ve seen us support each other. Cry with one another. Laugh with one another. I have faith in my family. I’m proud of my family. I’m confident that she will pull through whatever it is that she is going through and find her way back. We will be here when she does because THAT is the kind of family that we are.

What has been amazing to me since the loss of Paul is the reaction of others. You never really realize the impact that one life has on so very many until you lose them. I knew the very night that I lost him that many would be saddened by this, devastated even. What I didn’t realize was that history would be rewritten in the minds of some loved ones left behind, relationships would be destroyed and lives would be changed for the seemingly worse. It was naive of me to think that everyone would walk away with this realization that life is fucking short–that you should seize this day–that you should never let a loved one know anything contrary to how you truly feel about them–to love more and hate less. Sure I know about grief–as a nurse, as a grandparent-less grandchild, as a widow–that it is personal and that it is different for each of us. I know that rationally. And this is the main reason that I have given slack and understanding to those who have given me less than love and empathy throughout my loss–when others looking in have said “what the fuck is wrong with them? How can they treat you this way?” I’ve tried my best to respond with kindness and understanding. I’ve tried to remain peaceful and of the right mind. To hope that they will move past this and find peace of their own. I have kept hope that time heals all wounds and surely when that occurs they will come back to me, we will embrace and all will be forgiven. That is what has been transpiring in my mind, the rational side. In my heart though, on the inside where all is raw–I’m a bundle of nerves. Constantly on high alert. I constantly think 3-5 steps ahead. I’m conscientious of what I may say and how that may impact others. Just as with this blog. I started it on the premise that I would be honest and truthful. And I have been. But I’ve also filtered. Not because what I think and feel is wrong but because of how others might feel. Because of how it may impact them. Because maybe 5 years from now my former bff will change her mind and decide she loves me and wants to be in my life so I must guard what I say as to not hurt the chance of the slim possibility. I was describing how it feels to be on guard of a ‘what could be’ relationship to Lisa’s 16 year old. And as the words just fumbled out of my mouth, I realized how ridiculous it sounded. She was not confused by what I was trying to say though. She got it because she, too, unfortunately, battles with extreme anxiety. She very calmly and plainly said ‘that is hard. But sometimes, even though it’s hard, you have to just put yourself first. To do what’s best for you. And you know what? We will be there for you. Because we love you”. Wow, right? Wow. I love that kid. She is 100% right. And that is exactly what I am working on doing. Practicing what I preach

3yrRN — On the left: my FIRST day as an RN 2013 On the right: 2016

As always, guys: live for today. Love everyday. Hug those you love. And be sure to tell them exactly what they mean to you.

A Precious Life: Live it. Love it.

June 30, 2016 Jessica 1 Comment

june2016(4) — Father’s Day 2016: Dad says to me ‘did they make a mistake and cut your boobs off?’ oh my.

How precious is this life? And how short is it? I’d venture to say that most of us would admit that life is undeniably precious and that the years pass by quickly. Yet how are we living it? Are we living it for the moment? Or are we wishing it away?

I’d say that for most all of my life, I have wished my life away. Not on purpose of course but, rather, by accident. I’ve hated my body, worried about finances, striven for stability and put off my life for the unforeseeable future that would, without a doubt, reflect my work—the perfect me in the perfect life. I’d be thin. I’d have no debt. I’d be in the perfect career. That’s when I’d live. Right? Wrong. Your life is what happens while you’re putting off for tomorrow. Paul changed my life in so many ways. And although I have few regrets, the one I do have is that I could have worried less and lived more. And in his death, I’ve found life and I have realized that this is my life and this is as good as it may ever be and damn it that’s pretty good. I’ve been listening to a lot of pod casts and reading up on self-love. I have done a lot of self-reflection. And what I’ve realized is that I haven’t always been good to myself. I haven’t loved myself. Over the course of the last 18 months, I’ve had quite a few life altering events take place that have led me to this new outlook on myself and my life. I can’t really pinpoint when or what actually did it; I think it’s just the collection of events.

june2016(3) — Moving my body! Mollie loves walks and I got this new leash that is hands free. It makes our walks much more enjoyable!

I want to worry less…less about what I think others think of me, less about what might happen, less about all those things and people I can’t control. I want to love myself and treat myself the right way…the way I’d treat others. What does this look like for me? As with anything in this life, you get what you give. Put good in; get good out. So I try to nourish my body with food that makes me feel good but not in the way it used to–not to feed my emotions but to literally nourish my body. I move—I have a non-negotiable with myself and that is that I move every day. I’m not an avid runner; I’m an avid couch potato. Ha ha. But I have realized that my body needs to move and when I move it, it responds by feeling good, losing/maintaining weight and increases my quality of life. I’m working on nourishing my mind and my soul. I’m doing this by ridding my life of negative people, negative attitudes and habits that perpetuate anxiety. I try to live out loud. I laugh frequently, help others on their journeys and try new things. I want to make sure that when my time comes that my life was lived and not just ‘survived’.

june2016(2) — It’s important to surround yourself with people that build you up and embody the life and spirit you want for your own. Lisa is one of those people to me. She makes this life fun, pushes me to be better and celebrates with me constantly.

june2016 — Loving myself. My legs have been a struggle for me but I’m embracing them by flaunting them and showing gratitude to them. For without these strong legs, I wouldn’t be able to be the active person that I’ve become.

Recently I ran into a former co-worker. A lady that amazes me. She has this amazing soul and an infectious smile. She’s a survivor. When she saw me, I recognized the stunned look. It’s the one I get from those who haven’t seen me in a while. I used to almost feel embarrassed not from shame but rather from the attention that my weight loss would draw. I don’t really feel that way anymore. I smile and I let them ‘ooo and ahh’. I frequently joke ‘I’ve lost a couple pounds huh?’. I take these interactions as a pat on the back and affirmation that I’ve made a positive improvement in my life. She shared with me something that truly made my heart smile. She told me that Paul’s death changed her life. That seeing the pictures that I post made her think about the lack of pictures that she has of herself. She went on to tell me about how she often takes pictures of her children but hides from the camera as she is not satisfied with her physical appearance. And she teared up as she told me that she thought about if she were to leave this Earth that her kids wouldn’t have photos of her. And so now she takes pictures frequently; when she sees me post one of Paul’s pictures that I share that she flips her phone and takes a picture with her kiddos. I was so very glad that she shared this with me. I’m even more thrilled that she seized the day and accepted where she is right now because this life is precious. It’s meant to be celebrated.

As some of you may remember in April, Waybetter.com published an article about me. Well, they reached out to me a few days ago stating “we are working on our weekly email and this week is our inspiration week. We wanted to use your story because it was so inspiring and touching. I was going through your blog and came across your amazing wedding photo’. Wow! I was shocked and in awe. Then the email went out and my friend tagged me on Facebook. The headline reads ‘A story to renew your faith in human resilience’ and below my wedding photo ‘love, loss and strength fuel this powerful story of one woman’s 150-lb weight loss’. It’s amazing to be recognized for my weight loss and I love that my story has gotten to reach who knows how many people.

How amazing is that? When I started this blog, I thought to myself if Paul’s death could just change one life…

And he has impacted so very many. It makes my heart and soul happy.

You can read the article at…

http://www.waybetter.com/WayBetterToday/waybettertoday/inspiration/how-i-overcame-worst-tragedy-imaginable-and-lost-150-pounds

weddinglaugh — The wedding photo that the writer from WayBetter.com stumbled upon. Truly one of my favorite pictures from that amazing day. The really sums up our relationship…he always kept me laughing :)

That’s all for now. Show yourself some love. Give your body gratitude. Hug your loved ones. And live this day to the fullest. You deserve it and so do your loved ones.

Second Wedding Anniversary

Video March 18, 2016 Jessica 2 Comments

On a windy, cloudy day I was surrounded by friends and family as I vowed to always cherish Paul. Yesterday marked our four year wedding anniversary. It marked the second of which I “celebrated” it without my husband.

I knew this year would be significantly different from last year. Last year, I was surrounded by so many people. It was as if everyone was trying to protect me. I had lots of friends that were being very supportive and active in my life. This year I felt more alone. Noone asked me what I was doing for our anniversary this year. Noone invited me to do anything this year. Noone gave suggestions on what to do. I wasn’t upset by this; I just knew that this was way different than last year. I wasn’t sure how I was going to feel so I was determined to not make any certain plans. Well yesterday came and I literally had nothing to do. No plans. I hadn’t spoken to anyone about their schedules.

The last two weeks have been so difficult for me. I’ve been extra sad. I haven’t been sleeping well. I have been dreaming about Paul; only to wake to him not being there. It’s traumatic for those first waking moments-for just a moment when I first wake, he’s not gone; he didn’t die. Then it’s realizing that was a dream and that my life without him is the reality. And it’s heart wrenching. It makes me not want to sleep; it makes me fear sleeping. There have been times when I want to sleep just so I can see him but the ‘loss’ in the morning is so hard to bear. It sounds absurd but it’s the best way I know how to explain it.

Yesterday, I woke crying. Lisa was by my side and she tried her best to console me. It’s hard for me in those moments because my instinct is to conceal what I’m feeling. Although, when my feelings are that intense; it’s not possible. After she left, I had myself a good cry. I pulled my hair and I screamed. And it was terrible but necessary. I guess I tired myself out because I drifted back to sleep. I got around to getting a mani/pedi. I got a couple balloons, champagne and drove out to Stars & Stripes Park where we exchanged our vows 4 years ago. To my dismay, there were crowds of people and the champagne bottle was a pop top. Ugh. I struggled with the bottle for a good 20 minutes before popping it with my seat belt. I walked to the spot we stood at that day. I listened to Pandora and my Train station almost always plays Marry Me which was the song I was supposed to walk to but Paul forgot the boom box that day. That song played in my ear, I pictured that look he had on his face as Chris spoke and I let the balloons go. I watched as they disappeared into the sky. I sat on the ledge where our wine box sat, I had a drink and read the homily that Chris spoke that day:

In our culture today we express to each other two conflicting ideals. On one hand commitment is extremely important. We publicly admonish anyone who is unfaithful. Those who go against the ideal of commitment are subversive and are in some ways cast out. On the other hand we support and promote an absolute sense of self. We believe that the individual, their morals, passions, and aspirations are of extreme value and regard.

How can we reconcile this? How can an absolute sense of self and an absolute dedication to commitment co-exist?

That question is how we define marriage for our generation.

The contradiction exists in trying to forge your own path while sharing your life with another.

Yet, that is our strength. The belief in ones self is what ultimately makes us the best that we can be. Our sense of self and our drive to achieve our identity makes us whole. The whole person is the person that achieves loves. Because, love is an achievement, not a given.

Love is not a fleeting connection from across a room when two eyes meet; it’s soup and crackers when your sick. Love is not a first dates kiss; it’s that text message you get at lunch asking how your day is. Love is not roses and chocolates; it’s laughing with each other even though moments ago you were yelling at each other. Love is less about what’s ahead of you and more about what’s behind you. Because loving what you’ve done together before will prepare you for anything ahead.

There is an old cliche. Marriage is hard work. The idea expresses that love, relationships, and especially marriage are not for the feint of heart and not for those who are unwilling to put in the work. The cliche is old but is so true. Marriage is work. Much in the same way that a beautiful garden is work. Some days you can sit and admire the breath taking view. Smell the flowers and relish in the color and comfort. Another day you’re adding to the garden or taking away from. Before you know it, however, you might be knee deep in a pile of dirt, pulling the weeds, and praying for rain. -Chris Munoz

Lisa got me a green wine glasses and a lobster bottle stopper. I’ll share the lobster story another day. Although, many of you already know it’s significance. We went and had green beer. We came home and we watched the wedding video. Oh how I missed his voice. I replayed the ‘I love you baby’ several times. And I was happy to share that moment with Lisa. And this is just one of the things that makes her truly special. She respects and accepts my love. She actively participates. I’m truly lucky.

This anniversary was, by far, the hardest so far. My heart felt as though it was literally breaking. I don’t ever foresee a day when this will be easy or be just another day. I’m okay with that. Every year, I’ll look back on that special day; I’ll celebrate it in some way until the day I die.

And now we are preparing for our trip to the Bahamas. Paul will be joining us. I will be leaving a piece of Paul there because everywhere I go, so shall he.

6 Weeks: Getting Stronger Graphic Images

March 7, 2016 Jessica Leave a comment

6wkjean — These are suppose to be my ‘goal jeans’ but I can button em soooo I wore them out yesterdays. Bam! Holy booty batman. Size 29 low rise bell bottom jeans!

These last two weeks have seemed to drag on and pass too quickly all at the same time. Physically, I’m getting stronger. I feel a little better; a little more like myself each day. I haven’t been sleeping too well lately. I know I have a lot on my mind. Like I said in my previous post, March is an emotionally heightened month for me.

I can’t believe in just a couple weeks, I’ll be 30 and Paul and I would have celebrated our 4th wedding anniversary. It’s rough to think about. And still seems unreal. His picture sits on our mantle and sometimes I just look at it and kinda have a conversation with him. I don’t believe he is here in any sense other than my own memories and the memories of others; but there’s some type of comfort in ‘talking’ to him. I was doing my crunches the other day and I looked up and saw that picture: I was like bet you’d never believe you’d see me doing this so diligently. And I kinda chuckled. Then I was sad. I’m sad now.

Lisa and I just celebrated our 1st anniversary. Wow. Let that sink in. I can’t believe it’s been a year; in so many aspects. She is incredible. We have such a good time together. We don’t fight or argue. We don’t lack passion. She gets me. We just enjoy each other’s company. She makes me want to keep pressing forward and supports my healthier lifestyle (even when I don’t want to). We have already had so many adventures and both ventured outside of our comfort zones and never once regretted it. We are going to the Bahamas in less than 2 weeks and we are beyond thrilled. On the flip side, it’s been a year that I’ve been with someone other than Paul. It’s been 480 days since I saw Paul; since I heard his voice. I think he’d want me to be happy. In fact, I know he would. Despite knowing this, it doesn’t make it any easier. I miss that goofy guy.

I have had several follow ups with my physicians and had my concerns addressed. I spoke to my primary doctor about my weight (number) obsession and where I need/supposed to be. She told me that she thinks it is absolutely reasonable to get to a weight which would allow me to NOT have a diagnosis (i.e. overweight). According to the BMI, she would like to see me at 147lbs. I am currently weighing in at about 158. As per my plastic surgeon, I am ‘allowed’ to lose up to 12lbs without worry of disrupting my plastic surgery. And I have, approximately, 7-10 lbs of skin left to remove. Anyways, those are the numbers. I know a lot of you don’t agree with watching the numbers. But when we completely ignore the numbers, it’s easier to slip. It’s easy to add a lb here, a lb there until we have now packed on 20 lbs or more. I’ve done it so I know first hand. The scale is not a measurement of who you are. It is merely a measurement of how much you LITERALLY weigh. I choose to use it as an accountability tool; not as a means to define me as a person but, rather, as way to keep me on the track I worked so hard to be on. My dietitian and exercise physiologist have agreed that weighing weekly is a good way to stay on track. It works for me. So that’s what I plan to do.

My plastic surgeon told me that the skin at my elbows is normal and allows room for my elbow to bend. I didn’t really believe him so I’ve been checking out EVERYONE’S elbows that I pass. And, more often that not, that skin is there except on the very skinny people. Weird. I’ve never noticed before. He told me to continue to take it easy on my arms, that they are healing still, and to pay close attention to my elbows as to not bump them. That piece of skin under my right arm is a ‘dog ear’ which is a fairly common complication with skin removal. He told me that it’s easily fixed in the office but would like to give my body 8 more weeks to heal. My right boob is so much better. The bruising is gone but it hasn’t completely settled down. It’s still sore and hurts. My t-rex arms are getting better. I can reach things a lot better now. I’m still numb on the lower half of both breasts and the backs of my arms. It makes it difficult to get comfortable. I still am having to sleep on my back and prop my arms on pillows to be comfortable. It’s difficult to explain. It’s not necessarily painful (on my arms; it is on my right boob) to put pressure on it; it’s just weird because it’s numb. Like, I can feel, internally, that pressure is being put on my arms but I can’t actually feel it superficially. It’s not a pleasant sensation.

Arm progression — I’m super pleased with my arm incisions and my range of motion is improving.

6wk — Going out for the first time since surgery. First time EVER to go out without a bra!!

I’ve stayed on track with exercising. I’ve done a minimum of 200 crunches every night for over 2 weeks. I’ve now incorporated arm training and squats (alternating days). It feels pretty good. I’m really hoping to get more consistent on my morning walks but I’ve just been so tired from not sleeping well that it hasn’t been happening like I’d like it to but I do plan on going tomorrow morning.

2 weeks_ 200 crunches — Not noticing much progression but I’m feeling better.

Boobies on the Mend: 3 Week Post Op & Reflection

Image February 14, 2016 Jessica Leave a comment

Oh man. Where to start? It’s a long week or so.

Let’s start with my physical stuff. So, my right boob has been concerning. On February 2, my supervisor went to take her jacket off, turned and accidentally ‘punched’ me in my right boob. If you recall, my right boob required more reconstruction than my left and has been more painful and not exactly aesthetically pleasing. When this happened, it knocked the wind out of me. I didn’t really put 2 and 2 together at my 2 week post op appointment when the medical assistant questioned the new bruising on the 4th. At work the following day is when I realized the two were linked so I called my doc. The bruising progressively worsened and they wanted to see me the following week. I had my 3rd week follow up this past Wednesday day. He squeezed and manipulated my breasts. It was awkward since I don’t have feeling superficially to below my nipple. He told me I had 2 hematomas and that he could feel that an internal suture(s) ripped causing the bleeding. He needed to evacuate it! He stuck a 2 in. 18 gauge needle through my incision around my nipple and moved the needle around, pulled back on a 20 ml syringe trying to find the pocket. He got out 5 mls of dark red blood. Nothing else. He felt again and said he need to try again but would have to go through the breast. Eek. He attempted 3 additional sticks. Ouch. Although I have no feeling on the surface, I do have deep sensation. I started to sweat and turned ghost pale. He wasn’t able to get anything else out, sadly. He told me to just watch it and that it’d hopefully resolve. He was concerned regarding the possibility of infection. Since my appointment, my bruising has significantly reduced and the color is now green so I’m happy about that. His assistant called me yesterday to check on me and my doctor is still concerned so he has started me on a round of antibiotics. Better safe than sorry.

3WeeksPostOp (2) — Current boobies! Bruising is SOOO much better today! The itching has begun! 2/14

Otherwise, my incisions are healing well, I’m sleeping better (no more night sweats), I’m rarely requiring tylenol and the tape residue is ALMOST gone. My incisions are so fine and I’m excited to see the end result. The only source of pain is still under my arms. Constant bending of the incisions and chaffing is sometimes unbearable! My doctor told me it was my compression garment so I’ve tried just sleeves. Nope. I’ve tried gauze. Nope. I’ve tried bandaids which have helped the most buuuut then they chaff my actual armpit. Ugh. The struggle. Now, I’m using zinc oxide (baby butt paste which is helping). My 4 weeks is Tuesday and I no longer have to wear my compression sleeves unless I want to! That’s exciting and no compression garments does feel best on my underarms. Although, I still don’t have feeling to my incision sites to about a quarter inch on both side of it so it’s a weird sensation. And it makes me paranoid that it’ll rub on somethings so I’m now wearing long sleeves and I foresee me wearing compressions at work this week but we will see.

3WeeksPostOp (8) — 3 Week Arm Incisions are faint!!

3WeeksPostOp (7) — The arm crease is the most painful. Still numb on the underside of my arm.

3WeeksPostOp (4) — Exciting! I get to wear a bra!

I had my first therapy session post operatively. It was much needed and very over due. I feel like I word vomited all over her the moment my booty hit the couch. I’ve been struggling. My anxiety has been on high. Feeling a bit depressed. Feeling upset that I’m upset. And isn’t that some shit? Not only to have these feelings but to, also, have feelings about the feelings. It’s a bitch! I’ve been missing Paul more intensely. I feel guilty. I feel alone. It’s all a bit over whelming really. In my session, I said multiple times “I’ve wanted this as long as I can remember and these feelings are absurd. ABSURD!” Her first response to me “how about you give yourself permission to feel the way you feel?” I sat back. Sighed. And thought ‘well isn’t that a novel idea?’ Ha ha. It’s literally never occurred to me. And I let that thought soak in and I said ‘okay’. As she summed up what I said, the series of events is very overwhelming and the thought comes to me ‘well holy fuck dude. That’s kinda like a lot’. And Lisa has told me most of these things but I guess there’s just something about the third party, impartial somebody saying it that makes it stick. She reinforced that my mind, my heart, my body has been through a lot in this past year. She told me that I’m now having to grieve the loss of my ‘body’ while in the midst of grieving over my husband. It’s okay to be upset. It’s okay to say I’m not where I want to be. And in the moments of chaos, it’s hard to realize that it won’t always be this way. I won’t ALWAYS feel this way. I won’t ALWAYS feel out of control. Eventually, it will pass. She also brought up the point that I’m not as active as I’m used to being which effects my mind and body. I’m a very independent person that is temporarily at a point where I’m having to ask for help and not in a big way…in the small ways and that has an impact. Man oh man. I needed that reality check.

My mom gave me this little sign over a year ago that says: “You can do ANYTHING. You just can’t do EVERYTHING”. I think I have to realize and accept my limitations. I have to learn to be okay with them as they are a part of me and make me human.

Love after death and bigotry: Love chose me; I said yes. It’s not your place to judge.

January 18, 2016 Jessica 6 Comments

Love chose me; I said yes. It’s not your place to judge.

I’m from a religious family. All my life I’ve heard how homosexuality is wrong. I’ve never agreed. I’ve always believed in love. I’ve always sided with equality. I’ve always been loudly in favor of the freedom of choice. And when I found myself in a relationship with a person who brightened my life on the darkest of my days; who accepted and celebrated my love with Paul; who quickly became my best friend and love interest; when that person was a woman; I tolerated and even walked on eggshells for others’ religious convictions. After a few conversations and encounters over the past couple days…I reject the bigotry of my family and friends. We can agree to disagree. Have your convictions. But have them silently. Because at the end of the day, I still believe…if you can’t say anything nice; don’t say anything at all.

All my teenage and adult life, my father has been absent. My father is an intelligent man and a wise man in many ways. My father has devoted the last 10+ years to ‘Yahweh’. He rejects Christianity but in many ways he is just like those certain Christians that we all have encountered. He has preached time and time again about how wicked homosexuality is and how Yahweh hates it. My sister is homosexual and don’t get me started on the struggles that she has had to endure on her own journey along with those she’s faced with my father. To his credit, he has tried in the best way he can to be tolerant. I have walked on eggshells with him. I try just not to mention it. But in recent events, he has made efforts to give the appearance of acceptance. And at the first opportunity, he is quick to point out his efforts. Today was no exception. He told me today that he has done more for me in terms of accepting my ‘choices’ than he has with anyone else because he loves me and that credit should be paid given his beliefs. While I recognize his efforts, I reject the pedestal he is perched upon! Accept me; don’t accept me. I don’t really care but don’t you put on a show of tolerance and expect me to bow at your feet. It’s not going to happen.

On the flip side, my heart was touched by my mother in law, a very conservative Christian. A wonderful woman. A woman with a huge heart. She of all people is allowed to take pause. I knew that me announcing that I was pursuing a relationship with a woman within the first year of my husband’s, her son’s, death would be a bitter and difficult pill to swallow. I did not push her. I did not say anything directly to her. I allowed her time. I had no expectations of her. I was fully prepared for her to shun me; for her to not accept me. This weekend she left me in awe. She was so very honest with me. She shared with me how she had a difficult time coping with the news last year. She told me she had to unfollow me on Facebook for a period of time. She went on to tell me that she reflected and she realized that I wasn’t disrespecting Paul. She saw what a positive force Lisa was in my life. She saw how Paul’s memory and our love still lived on. She recognize what a wonderful person she must be to accept that in her life and in our life together. I was truly humbled. Here in front of me sits the mother of my late husband. A mother who should have never had to ‘bury’ her son of only 30 years; a conservative Christian mother. She told me that she could never condone my choices but that she accepted me and loved me. She told me she wanted to know her. She told me we would always be family. And I love her more deeply for this conversation. I recognize how hard this was for her to arrive at. I love her more for never making me feel ashamed, for recognizing that she had to step back and do some soul searching. And I love her for being able to have her convictions and to still be able to love and support me without making it feel as though she’s doing me a favor.

Love, life, death and grief are hard to juggle. They are even more difficult to explain. There is not one day that goes by that I don’t think of Paul. I don’t ever foresee a day where he won’t be a part of me. He has forever changed my life and who I am and I will love him forever. Love does not end when death rears it’s ugly head. My life did end the day my husband died but I did not die. I could have but I chose not to. I chose to go on and to make a new life. I have a big heart. And I’m able to love him and love another. I’m able to keep my memories and to make new ones. I’m able to grieve and to laugh. I don’t have to choose between the two. The grief of losing a spouse is never ending. You learn to adapt. I’ve chosen to adapt. You can’t know unless you’ve been here. I feel fortunate to have found someone who accepts all that I am; all that I’ve been through; a person who wants to make my life brighter but allows me my darkness; who wants to celebrate this life with me and to make it better. Who be it to say that it is wrong just because she is a woman? Who be it say that it wrong because I’m a widow?

I hope that everyone finds love like these; a love that changes you-that enhances you. I hope that everyone gets to experience the look in these pictures.

Transformation Through Loss