I think I’m not alone when I say this has been an extremely challenging year. I’m really going to try to get back into the swing of things here because the truth is that I need a creative outlet where I can talk about what’s happening in my life and the world, at large. Since I’m still uninsured, therapy is out of the question, and hosting is under $50 a year so this is my Plan B.  I’m going to kick it off with a list of what’s happening.

• The Boy and his girlfriend are having my first grandchild, a boy, in March. I won’t even be 35, neither of them will quite be 18 yet. But, no point in being upset now, so I’m looking forward to having a baby in the immediate family again.
• The Boy violated his probation when he was pulled over in the next county. I am expecting him home in early December. I’m praying becoming a father really helps him focus on staying out of trouble. Please pray too.
• My stepson went to live with his mom. We are still waiting for final confirmation that DCF will allow it, since his mom has an old case plan that wasn’t complete. We miss him, but it has definitely reduced the stress in the house.
• I finished my AA over the summer and I started at USF in August. I am carrying all A’s and B’s, which is awesome because the transition from a community college to a university is TOUGH. I literally work on school 6-8 hours. every. day.
• I’m sure I have lipedema, and it explains SO MANY issues I’ve had over the years. But as much as a relief as that is, knowing how little control I really have over my body is a tough pill to swallow, especially since I can’t afford any treatment.
• I’m starting a clinical trial tomorrow for a new depression medication. It will pay for my gas to St Pete 2/week for classes, which is a huge plus. I’m hoping that if the med would help me, the powers that be make it so I get it and not a placebo.
• We painted my living room/dining room, and it looks SO MUCH BETTER. Can’t wait to put the floors in. I really hate this house, and coming home to it makes me panicky sometimes. (I know, I should be happy I even HAVE a home right now.)

This thought keeps smacking me in the face at the most inopportune times.  Sometimes it really is like a slap; It catches me off guard and brings me to attention like the crack of a rifle very near.  Other times it is more like a seductive caress creeping in through the corners of my thoughts.

“You need to organize your time as well as space. You are accomplishing much less than you are capable of. Stop cheating your loved ones and the world at large by letting life overwhelm you and paralyze you.  Figure out what matters most to you, and focus your energy where you will get the returns that matter most to you.”

Damn, if that doesn’t make perfect sense.  My inaction is almost never borne from apathy.  Rather, it is my perfectionism manifesting in a self-sabotaging way.  If I can’t do something knock-it-out-of-the-park well, I’d really rather not do it.  I don’t know if this is simply the fear of failure, or if I am just someone who needs to reassure herself that I am valuable through success.  Honestly, I don’t care, except that self-awareness breeds empowerment to change ineffective behavior.  I just want to live better.

I want to feel confident again.  I don’t mean about my looks…that is a whole other post.  I mean about who I am, the decisions I make, the good I can do…what I contribute to the world, both in the smaller scale with my family and friends and humanity as a whole.  I want to feel like I can handle whatever life throws at me.  Anxiety has been robbing me of parts of myself for years, but confidence is the thing anxiety took from me that I miss the most.

So, I am going to start living purposefully.  They say the best way to become something is to act like you already are.  So I’m figuring out my goals, and making a plan for getting there.  I’m tired of letting my life run me.  It’s time to run my life.

I’ve become a master at the mask.
It’s not a mask to hide treachery,
or a mask to hide true intentions.
But it does hide the truth.

It does hide the sneer when I change my clothes.
The fat, everywhere, spilling all around me.
Choking me, hiding me, keeping me from being.
It swallows me whole and buries me alive.

It does hide the ambivalence when I look in the mirror.
The too big nose, the freckles multiplying year by year.
The missing tooth that shames my grin into a tight-lipped smile.
The double chin, proof my face is next in the adipose quicksand.

It does hide the shame that I am unemployed.
No contribution, to society or family.
No longer a provider, only a consumer,
Taking more than I give; security a thing of the past.

It does hide the fear that I won’t make it in school.
That something will happen to keep me from finishing,
Meaning no more steps in my quest toward higher education.
Or that I just won’t measure up to the A standards I set for myself.

It does hide the anger…oh, the anger, like a live thing inside me.
It writhes and grows and taints everything I, even inadvertently, allow it to touch.
It slithers around the corners of my mind and heart and soul and eats up the pure,
Leaving its bitter trails to taunt my spirit…but it also cloaks the hurt.

It does hide the inadequacy. Too much of this, not enough of that.
I’m not worth the effort it takes to be true to word.
I’m not valuable enough to do the right thing.
And I’m too much to handle-much too demanding and pushy and proud.

It does hide the pain…the sheer destruction that trusting people has brought to my soul.
The deserted shell of my heart, wind howling through the cracked and shattered windows,
Dust and tumbleweeds, shattered dreams, unkept promises; they’re all the same.
Just reminders of why retreat beats surrender in the war with the world.

It does shield the ones I love from the truth…the ugly truth.
Ugly outside, ugly inside. Not good enough, strong enough.
Not pretty enough, not fun enough, not smart enough.
Not valued. Not honored. Not worthy. Not anything.

But the mask? It doesn’t hide anything from me.

*I closed comments on this post. I know my friends disagree with much of what I just wrote. I’m glad you do, because you wouldn’t be much interested in being my friend if you did agree. But that doesn’t change that I feel like this about MYSELF, right now. I haven’t always, and I won’t always, I’m sure. But right now, this is what is inside me. Sometimes it’s hard to hear the positive comments when you are just trying to be real.

So, I got my pap results today, and I feel like the most blessed woman in the world.  The results were completely normal. No abnormal cells, no HPV, which often causes cervical abnormalities, and no further treatment necessary.  I can let go of that fear and focus on the wonderful chaos of being a working Mommy again.  Thank you for every one of your prayers and positive energy and thoughts sent for my family and I.  It would have been so much more difficult to get through the week of not knowing how bad it would be without each of you who offered support, someone to talk to, or your own stories to help me keep my chin up.  Love love love to you all!

On another note, I’m sorry for those of you who got an email from me this morning.  Someone hacked into my email and sent out some link that I assume was a virus because why else hijack someone else’s email account to send it, right?  My email account was locked for a while and I had to send Google a pleading email to let me back in, but I have it back and changed my password so hopefully, that won’t happen again!  Again, Shannon, “Bob”, Sassy, and anyone else who received it, including my boss-sorry about that!

This weekend I am descending upon Sebring, Fl, with a nice array of my girlfriends! Some I know pretty well, some I am really excited about getting to know better, and one I haven’t even met yet!  I may even be dragging one of my best local girlfriends, Jessie, with me to spread some of “The ‘Hill” down in the Heartland of Florida.  We are going to drink and laugh and celebrate the triumphs and commiserate over the challenges…but mostly laugh.  I am so ready for this weekend with some of my dear friends.  I have so much respect for these people, and I appreciate so many qualities in them.  I feel so very blessed to have met them, and to have bonded so closely with them.

Two weeks from Saturday, my mother and I will be boarding our flights for Vegas!  My mother has always wanted to see Cher perform live, and since Cher’s contract with Caesar’s Palace expires this summer, I knew her opportunities were becoming more limited.  So when I received my tax refund, I purchased plane tickets, reserved a hotel room, and bought tickets to see Cher’s show.  It will be just the two of us, and I’m so excited to give my Mom this gift.  She’s an amazing woman..she’s so kind and loving and thoughtful and intelligent and faithful.  She always worked hard to give me everything I needed and some of what I wanted.  She’s always been there for me, and I am proud that since she’s retired, I can be here for HER now.  It will be a good time.

Rainbows and butterflies, people.  I wish them for you all.

Another day, another drama.

Last year I found out about a sliding scale women’s clinic in Dade City, and since I don’t have health insurance offered through my employer, and I can’t afford an individual plan and still provide for my family, I was thrilled to discover an affordable way to take responsibility for my health. So I went in April of ’09 and had my first annual gyn exam and pap smear since Faith was born in ’03. My doctor and I discussed the dysfunctional uterine bleeding I had been experiencing and agreed on having some labs done to attempt to confirm our potential diagnosis of PCOS. I walked away feeling at peace about my gynecological health.

I went back in December for some additional screening, and to have my medication changed.

I went yesterday to have another annual exam and pap smear, and get a new script for the birth control pill that has been terrific at controlling the bleeding I used to experience. I was sure it was just going to be a routine office visit..no big deal. I joked about the stirrups and having to clean up for the doc on Twitter. It was nothing, right?

Wrong. It turns out that my last pap results were abnormal.

I never found out. Until yesterday. They said they called and left at least two messages for me to call the office, and it’s quite possible they did. At the time there were two teenage boys here and I’m sure I lost messages, both erased on the machine and never passed on.

So, that’s bad. It means that whatever is going on has had as little as a full year, and as many as seven, to continue changing. And, see I know a little about cervical cancer. I know that Hispanic women, an ethnic group I belong to, are twice as likely to get cervical cancer. I know that over 10,000 new cases are diagnosed in the US yearly, and that over 4,000 women will die from it yearly. I know these things because I have a history of cervical dysplasia, or pre-cancerous cells.

Fourteen years ago, I went in for my annual pap. I had insurance then, and I was conscientious about my health. Even though my last pap from the year before was normal, that pap came back with abnormalities. I was sitting in this very room when I got the call from the same doctor who delivered Faith. I remember feeling betrayed by myself…by my own body. I scheduled a colposcopy, which is a procedure where the doctor stains the abnormal areas and while viewing the cervix through a scope, pinches a tiny bit of the abnormal tissue for further evaluation by the lab. As it turned out, I had CIN II, or moderate cervical dysplasia. Aggressive treatment was suggested by my doctor. Within weeks I had a conization, where a cone shaped section of my cervix was removed and biopsied. The lab said that the CIN II section was completely contained within that sample, so I was relieved that it was all removed. But I always knew it could come back.

And it appears that now, it has.

I’m scared. I feel like I am walking around with a monster inside me. I feel ugly and tainted and sexless. I’m trying to stay positive, and not worry until the results from THIS pap come back. But my anxiety is a “what-if” anxiety…and I know that last time it progressed from nothing to CIN II in under one year. This time it’s had a lot more time to grow.

I really loved being pregnant.  Well, maybe not the first time so much, since I was all of 16 and so sick that my mother thought I was bulimic.  But my girls in my belly made me feel closer to whatever force of good I identified with spiritually at the time than anything else I’ve ever experienced, and made me feel more feminine that I ever have since.  I still get a little heartsick when I face the fact that it’s highly unlikely that I will ever experience that serenity again.

I also believe that parenthood, regardless of what method through which it is attained, is something that develops your character in a way that nothing else can.  I think having pets you consider children may come closer to it that anything else, but even then, it falls dreadfully short of the level of responsibility and sacrifice that parenthood demands.  That said, it is also the single most rewarding experience of my life.  And so, it is something I feel strongly should be available to those who WANT it, without regard of their physical ability to reproduce.

Because of these two things that I believe or feel, when a friend of nearly two decades came to me several years ago and asked if I would consider being a surrogate for her and her husband, I agreed, without reservation, and without compensation.  I know it’s not something every woman could do.  I did carefully consider the emotional impact of handing over a child I carried inside me for 40 weeks, and I decided that I could do that, and feel good about being a part of something that should have been able to happen without me, but wasn’t possible due to health problems.

As it turned out, most likely due to my own undiagnosed PCOS, I was unable to conceive for them.  But now I’m 30 pounds lighter, and another 35-40 pounds away from what my gynecologist believes is the threshold for the PCOS symptoms I have that complicate conception to disappear.  And if I were in a situation like that again, I would probably try again, even if the barrier was not health problems, but something else like relationship status, or sexual orientation, or ability to pay exorbitant adoption costs.

The quality of a parent is not based on the biological ability to produce viable sperm or eggs, or the existence of a uterus suitable for growth of a fetus, or the ability to find “the one,” or gender, or sexual orientation, or age.  The quality of a parent is based on the desire and ability to protect, nurture, prepare and guide the child into adulthood.