I can see clearly...

I think we all experience some significant shifts in our lifetime. Some people listen, some people don't. I was pretty unaware until I had Miss Popcorn, Grouch Potato in 2013.  I had always noticed this eenie meenie tiny little instinctual voice in the background of my life, that was usually overpowered by the VERY loud chatter in my head.  And we all know that the loudest voice tends to win.

BUT, recently, I've been listening more and more to these little nudges, never really understanding why they appear, but trusting that these instincts won't steer me in the wrong direction.

Recently, I was able to devote 12 whole hours to an audio book by my favorite author, Wayne Dyer.  12 hours?? How the heck did I have 12 hours all to myself with no babies?? I'll explain in a minute..

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Up until about 28, I was in a dream world.

Reckless, impatient, impulsive.

Hummm...maybe not much has changed after all.

I ran off to France at 21, without thinking for a SECOND about ANY of the details...and stayed for longer than I expected.  I turned down the opportunity to get my PhD to run off to Europe again, to marry a guy I had been annoyed with for the previous eight years.  I had two babies on a whim, and now I sit in France again because I listened to my "inner" calling.

All of THESE, some would call, "impulsive" decisions have been instrumental in my happiness.  Like, REAL happiness. They didn't feel impulsive...they felt guided. And trust me, I did NOT always understand why.

BUT...there were things that weren't so "smart" along the way (driven by my ego)...but taught me great lessons nonetheless. I am extremely grateful for all of them.

In 2009, I decided get breast implants on a whim after my then-boyfriend mentioned how happy his ex had been with her new top half, after I made a comment that I had NO fun trying on clothes.  

Wait, what?

Within a week, I had determined that my body wasn't good enough just as it was.  Sure! Why not?!  I'm sick of clothes that don't fit, let's do something about it.

So for the past eight years, I carried around the extra weight...never really paying any mind to my new accessories. And then age, wisdom, and a shift towards a more natural lifestyle started to play a roll.  Breast implants have been linked to awful illnesses, autoimmune disorders, and many women find out their implants have been growing mold for years...all while doctors dismiss their symptoms.

Let's face it, I was going to have to get them out at some point...why not when I'm healthy and nothing is wrong.

My health started to suddenly become an issue...at 30! Was it the fact that I had two babies? Or that my posture wasn't always stellar? Some days I would literally stay in bed ALL day, if I didn't have two girls needing to eat.

This little voice started to urge me (not so quietly) to lift those weights off my chest.  Like, NOW.  I wasn't "conventionally" sick and my blood work was all normal, BUT I WAS DESPERATE, something in me was screaming.  I just had this unexplainable NEED to have them removed. Ok, ok, I'm listening!! Back off!

In my typical impulsive fashion, I immediately made an appointment with a local French plastic surgeon to have them cut out. It was time. It was scary. And it all seemed SO stupid in retrospect. Not because of the implants themselves really...they are what they are. What mattered all of a sudden was us, and that I have a family that I really kind of like. I would be going under general anesthesia for something that wasn't necessary in the first place and putting myself at risk. I don't like leaving my girls to go out for a drink, let alone leave them forever. The thought was too debilitating to think about.

I made my appointment, and I am NOW accessory free.  But with a new sense of clarity that overwhelms me.

The procedure went as planned, until it didn't.  I arrived at the posh private clinic at 7:30am, and was home by 3pm, happy as could be.  I don't have the strongest stomach, but really, this was a BREEZE...minimal pain and ZERO nausea.

I was catching up on episodes of mindless TV at home, when I felt a small pop. Like a faint pop made by a straw that's overstressed.  Humm...what the heck was that? Oh well. I wasn't feeling great, faint in general, but that was to be expected, right?

About an hour later, apu (dad) made the decision that we needed to call the clinic and report some odd swelling in my right breast.  They asked us to come in right away.

Forty-five minutes later, I was back in surgery for an artery that decided to go rogue.

Not ideal, obviously, but there was a lesson in all of this.  So much so, that any embarrassment of talking about my boobs and the world knowing, seems SO insignificant.

The universe was in my corner on Monday.  The fact that apu noticed that something wasn't right, and that nagymama had insisted on coming from Budapest to help with Popcorn and Pompom (something I had originally protested).  The fact that the clinic was still open, or even stranger, that the anesthesiologist had randomly returned that day to the clinic with his son for a consultation for hair plugs.  Yay, for balding teenagers! The stars aligned. Everyone was waiting for me as I walked in the door.

There are many what-if's that I can come up with. Like, what if this happened in the middle of the night and I hadn't noticed?  What if everyone had gone home and I was sent to an unknown doctor and hospital? What if those 45 minutes were all the minutes I had to spare? Ok...brain, simmer down! I had at least 10 more.

I'm really thankful for that pesky artery.

I felt as if needed to listen and to look at WHAT ACTUALLY HAPPENED.  During my night alone in the clinic, I listened to the aforementioned audio book.  It was the only one that was actually downloaded to my phone, so the options were limited. Thankfully it was REALLY LONG...12 hours...12 short hours.

It just so happened to be "I Can See Clearly Now," by Wayne Dyer.  The same Wayne Dyer who mom has "talked to" in the past. See HERE.

I know this sounds weird and crazy, but before the surgery that morning, I randomly asked in my head...

"Yo, Wayne, if you're not busy today, would you mind making sure I'm ok. I have two babies and a pretty cool dude that I love, and I sort of wouldn't mind sticking around to hang out with them a bit longer."

I ACTUALLY said this. I know, I know.  I suppose it's basically praying (which I don't judge, but don't believe in necessarily)...but there I sat, briefly chatting to an old, dead, bald dude, who lived in Maui, and wrote books on self-help. You can judge me, it's ok.

I found that being literally FORCED to listen to his audio book about self-actualization, after my questionable "wayyyy too near death" experience (although I may be being dramatic), was probably his payback for helping me out. The irony was not lost, universe.

Twelve hours of listening to a book about his life, about how he always chose to listen to his inner voice rather than others around him...which I think is the ONLY way to reach true happiness.

One of my favorite quotes by Dr. Dyer is, "If you follow the herd, you'll end up stepping in shit."

He wrote about being open to the people and lessons that come into our lives.  He cited authors I have been drawn to since graduate school (although I never knew why, really)....Viktor Frankel's "Man's Search for Meaning," and Michael Singer's "The Untethered Soul," the book that ultimately brought Peter and I together after eight years of friendship.  

I have always felt this odd satisfaction when I am still and present, in regards to the unknown.  Sure, I freak out about the future like anyone else (thanks to my ego), like dying during a routine surgery.  However, when I am still, I literally get excited over the uncertainty that is to come.  Sitting back and watching it unfold is FUN.

So with that, I have a new sense of appreciation for my own life and amazing body (which the surgeon said is healing SHOCKINGLY well, considering the circumstances).

I have a new appreciation for the beauty in others, and how these strangers stopped everything to serve me in my time of true need, and for a love that now runs deeper than I could have ever imagined.

For everything...

everyone...

...and for this process of unfolding that always leaves me soulfully grateful.

"When a push-pull comes up that involves indecision and doubt, I remind myself that the anxiety is an emotional response, and therefore it must be coming from either love or fear - and since love is not stressful, it must be fear that is at play. I then simply go to a loving place within, and the indecision is resolved. I find that if I let myself get quiet and meditate on the issue, the loving guidance shows up."

This is me, meditating with my new, perfect, FLAT chest. 

 


Edited to add:  I'm about two months post-explant and I AM SO HAPPY. I have energy, my back doesn't hurt, I can carry my child FAR longer than I could before, no more shooting pains in my chest, and I LOVE MY LITTLE BOOBS.  No bra, no pain, and accepting my body JUST as it was created.