Finding balance

In previous posts I had talked about how zig-zaggy I felt about everything. I would go from zero to 100 and everywhere in between, a million times a day. Sometimes I was excited about life and sometimes I was scared and nervous. Sometimes I was anxious, sometimes I was confident. I still have those many, many emotions all the time, but now I'm learning a little more about where they're coming from. And now I'm also learning to find some balance.
Now that I have my surgery date, and the date my expander will come out (see my countdown at the bottom of the blog!), I can see the end a little more clearer. The end of this - right now - this treatment and these surgeries. Sure, breast cancer will always be something I'm worried about. I'm still terrified to do self-exams and anxious about getting breast cancer again. But with my implant surgery being a little more than a month away, I can sort my feelings a little bit better.
Before, with my mastectomy and then the skin-removing surgery, a lot was riding on the outcome. Test results would determine the next course of action. With the mastectomy in May: had it spread to the lymph nodes? Was invasive cancer found? Would chemotherapy be needed? With the re-excision in August: was more cancer found in the margin? Would radiation be needed?
Nothing is riding on this next surgery. Sure, we want it to go well. We want me to heal properly with no complications or infections. We want a good outcome. But this surgery isn't medical. There's no anxiety about results; only about the surgery itself. So before, with my first two surgeries, my anxiety and fears were concentrated in one area: the results. What would the surgery reveal? Now, since there are no "results" (well, besides new, nice breasts!), my anxiety and fears don't have a solid place to go. They are all over. Like little particles floating in the air. They are here, they are there - with doing self-exams, with recurrence or getting breast cancer in the other breast.
Having anxiety float all around my head like little free-flowing particles caused, and is causing, me to over-compensate. Make plans to pass the time until my surgery, and to keep myself busy so I don't focus on what was making me nervous. Also, part of the plan-making and guaranteeing I was always busy was a way for me to "fight back" against this breast cancer: being determined to LIVE harder and better, despite all this, not let it get me down, not let it shut me inside. But then I realized I don't need to be constantly busy to get that message across to others and myself. I could still live my life without having something to do every second of every day. I could still have fun.
Now I have always been about making plans and having and going to parties. That's my personality and it's something I enjoy. But I was over-doing it, maybe to prove something to myself. I'm not exactly sure. I always have fun when it's going on. Take last night's Martini Monday for example. The night, hosted at our house, was complete with "M" labeled napkins for the words Martini and Monday, Rat Pack music playing, the bar book opened to the dirty martini page, and guests in cocktail attire. We had a blast. I love the planning almost as much as the actual event. And that will never change. But me almost forcing myself, if you will, to constantly fill my calendar was driving me crazy. I love my nights out and coffee dates. But making too many plans only contributed to the zig-zag feeling. I was anxious and nervous about the future of my health so was trying to maybe district myself with other things. Because when I'm doing other things I am reminded that my life is somewhat normal.
Another part of me making plans all the time and trying to keep myself super busy was me trying to constantly make lemonade out of lemons. I've done that since the beginning. Since I was diagnosed. I knew, from the beginning, I wanted to use this experience to do something positive. And I believe I have. With this blog and my story on Lifetime. But more than that I was trying to "fix" the bad part about all this, and I realized today, I can't. Sure, I can live life fully. I can have fun with friends and plan my wedding and tell my story for the world to see. But I can't fix the fact I was diagnosed with breast cancer while I was planning my wedding. Or that I was diagnosed with breast cancer when I was 26. That will never change. Ever. I can make the best out of what I have - and I do, every day - but what's making me so exhausted is trying to touch this thing - this rock (as I picture it), which is what happened. The rock is not only the breast cancer but the breast cancer HAPPENING now, at this time in my life.
It's always been unfair. I try not to compare my life to others, but when I see other brides I get jealous and mad. They get to plan their weddings without breast cancer. They get to be in the happiest time of their lives without breast cancer. I'm working on that anger because I know it's something I can't control. And I know everyone has their own battles to face, and nobody's life is easy. And I know I'm lucky in so, so many ways, and even in ways other brides aren't lucky. (Take my amazing fiance, for example, and my wedding dress which knocks all the others out of the water!) But with this breast cancer: yes, life isn't fair but I'm dealing. That's been the story. But what is new to me is realizing that I am trying to turn around - to mold- this rock that can't be molded. My personality, and this isn't exactly a bad trait, has always been about trying to find the best in the worst people and trying to make the best out of the worst situation. And yes, I think I've done that here. I've managed to change what I can, and that's stuff IN my life. But I can't change this PART of my life. No matter how you slice it, it's a bad thing that happened. And for some reason I've been trying to change that by over-compensating. Going to the extreme with my parties and plans. Trying to force something to change that can't be changed.
It's interesting because I always thought I had it: it was sad that I got diagnosed with breast cancer, and especially sad that it happened when I did. But I was dealing and I was going to be OK and I was working on moving on. I thought I had it down pat. But what I didn't understand was that I was subconsciously trying to fix something that could never be touched, because if I could somehow fix this thing that already happened, I could look at my life in a new, positive light. Because when I look at my life as a whole I don't want to see the breast cancer.
Sure, I can see myself dealing with it and making the best of what I CAN touch. But it still happened.
I think if I can realize and understand that part of my zig-zaggyness and my highs and lows are trying to change something I can't, I can find a little more balance. I can still do the things I love and live MY best life, despite the circumstances and situations. But the real thing here is maybe that I haven't actually ACCEPTED that this thing that happened to me actually happened to me. And more than that, but that it can't be molded or fixed or changed, no matter how hard I try.
I'm not sure if this post makes any sense. To me it does because this is something I've discussed with my therapist (I definitely didn't come to this conclusion by myself!). I think the best way to describe it is that I'm subconsciously doing something I've always done, and it might have worked in the past. I changed bad things into good things, and if I couldn't actually change them, then I fixed or molded them a little to make them into something less bad. But this rock of breast cancer is not clay; it cannot be molded or changed. It's a rock and it's there. And I need to come to terms with that. And once I do, I'll be a little less zig-zaggy. Because the highs of my zig-zaggyness are over-compensating by making myself too busy. When I stop over-compensating the highs won't be so high and the zigs will be less all over the place. I'll be closer to finding balance.