2018-- Challenge and Change

 People probably think that completing my Ph.D. was my greatest accomplishment in 2018- but it was not. When I started my Ph.D. journey in October of 2012, I had a one-year-old, a teenager, and I was engaged to be married. I had authored four books (my memoir, a novella, and two poetry collections). I was in amazing shape and after 7 years of working in one building, teaching 5 subjects, I was one year into a new position as an English Teacher in another building. I just knew I would be done in 4 to 5 years because I did everything quickly. I had finished my master’s degree in a little over a year.  I would work on my Ph.D. and plan a wedding at the same time. Besides, I had already chosen my bridesmaids and maids of honor. My dress was picked out, and by the time I got my degree, I would have a different last name.

 I survived my dissertation and almost six years in a full-time Ph.D. program, but so many other things in my life did not.

Less than a year into my program, I dismissed three members of my huge wedding party, including one maid of honor.  Some childhood friends were no longer a part of my life just like that.  A misunderstanding turned out to be the universe's way of eliminating people who were not meant to accompany me on the journey to the next level. Turns out, neither was my fiancée, because the wedding would never happen...my relationship did not survive my Ph.D. either.

Know what else did not survive my Ph.D.? My ovaries and my breasts. But because I got rid of them, I will!  Consequently, my fit figure did not survive. Between four surgeries and menopause, my body has been through it, and I have had to learn to love it all over again.

My love of performing poetry also did not survive. Although I have published two more poetry collections, another novella, two journals, and a children's book. I birthed a new dream-----motivational speaking. I will always be a poet, it was my first love, but two years into my journey, I realized that not only did I need to share my story in writing, but also through speaking. I am meant to share my healing so that others may heal.

Homeownership also did not survive my Ph.D. During all the changes that were taking place in my life, I realized that much of what I had done for the last 20 years had been because I was trying to prove others wrong. I was fighting stereotypes. That was my motivation when I went to college, the first and second time. It was the reason I prolonged both of my engagements when I knew it would not work. It was the major reason I bought a house before I was 30 years old. I did not want to be another poor black single mother living in low-income housing. I would show them (whoever they were). Everything I said I would do, I did, and I had become known for that.

The reality was, I hated home ownership. I hated the responsibility of lawn care, snow removal in New England, buying a hot water heater, paying $275-$300 every two weeks to heat an old home. But that was the American way, and homeownership is applauded and viewed as a sign of higher status. 
Well, in a month before I defended my dissertation, I made the decision to put my house on the market and start fresh by renting and not worrying about a damn thing.  My oldest son was an adult, things were not working with my tenant, and it was just me and my 7-year-old in a big spacy house. I was ready for a change, for freedom from something I never really wanted. Some people supported this, others thought I was making a huge mistake. The more I heard people’s opinions, the more I realized that it was time for me to unlearn the ideologies that had been forced upon me by society. 
Marriage would not make me happy if he was not meant for me. And not being married didn't make me any less of a woman. What was the point in owning a home if I felt I had no real peace when I got home?  I even started questioning why I even wanted my degree anymore (although I was in too deep to quit at that point).

So, what am I am most proud of at the end of 2018? Defining success and joy on my own terms and setting clear boundaries with people who try to force me to think or do otherwise. It is not easy, because people will guilt you, manipulate you, or try to make you feel less than for doing what is best for you. But in the end, if you cannot ignore the outside noise from others, you will never hear your inner voice, which is ultimately a higher power guiding you exactly where you need to be.  Although it had many challenges, I end 2018 full of gratitude, joy, and serenity. I wish you a Joyous New Year! Do you boo!

Criticism...Take it or leave it?

Part of personal growth is reflecting on your patterns of behaviors, seeing things from the perspectives of others and accepting criticism. But how can you tell when you should take criticism to heart or tell the person to take their criticism and shove it? 

Here are a few questions to ask yourself when faced with the challenge 

1.   Who said it? 
Is it someone who you respect? Who respects you? If you can’t answer “yes” to both, then it really doesn’t matter because it may not be constructive. If you don’t have a relationship (personal or professional) with that person where you feel valued, then their opinions shouldn’t be valued.

2.  What is their motivation?

Is it to help you grow in some capacity? Is it because you may be negatively impacting others and they want you to see it?   OR   Is it to diminish you?  To insult or embarrass you? To make you pause on your path to greatness because they are envious? Receiving criticism isn’t easy, and it can hurt the ego. However, ask yourself, does it hurt because it’s true, or because the person is a HATER? (NOT EVERYONE IS A HATER.)

3.  What is the frequency?

If you hear the same criticisms from different people, in different areas of your life,  repeatedly over a course of time, there may be some truth in the criticism and it may be time for you to pause and reflect. As you reflect, refer to your responses to questions 1 and 2. If 5 different people say it every day, and they don’t respect you or their motivation is SHADY, they can shove it. On the other hand, if it comes from a few who value you and want the best for you, it may be time to grow.

Let it Flow

For months I’ve been using Liquid Plumber and Draino in my shower because once  a week it would become slow to drain. Today, I decided to unscrew the drain and use one of those  long plastic drain cleaners ( I have no idea what they're called). First of all, as soon as I opened it I saw why nothing was going down. The clog was right under the surface, it wasn't even deep.  It was so disgusting, the amount of shampoo gunk, and build up that was underneath the service. As I put on a pair of plastic gloves to get down and dirty, I was apprehensive because I was afraid of what I might find, and God forbid have to touch. But  as I began pulling out more gunk  and goo(there wasn't really hair), I worked even more feverously. I was finally clearing this drain myself. Fast forward about 15 minutes, my shower drain was clean and completely clear. It was a beautiful sight, and I felt accomplished.

The clogged drain is a metaphor for life. We continuously go through it trying to find simple, temporary solutions to “fix” things when what we really need to is open up the drain and get to bottom of the mess. Dig deep, bit by bit pull of the gook that is blocking our hearts, minds, or spirits. Whether it’s relationships, finances, goals, trauma, or breaking bad habits, we have to attack the problem head on, do the work. Otherwise it will continue to resurface and you will find yourself standing in the murky waters of your own bullshit.

When Black Women Lead

This will be a great opportunity to network, I thought, to expose my talents to professionals from a different demographic, i.e. White people. However, after our initial welcoming event, I wondered how I’d force myself to open to people unlike me. There were so many of them and so little of us (because you know we count in a room sparse with people of color). When we took our class photo I purposely tried to stand away from the other three black women, three Latino women, and the one black man, so it’d look a bit more …colorful. Still, as we prepared for our weekend retreat and official initiation into Leadership Pioneer Valley, I prepared myself to code switch. It’s what we do, change our speech style, volume, body language and vocabulary to mirror mainstream America. We drop the colloquialisms; avoid being our true selves to not offend, intimidate, or perpetuate negative cultural stereotypes. For some of us code switching is fluid and easy, and we never had to be taught; it was learned by watching. I was ready for it.

 To my surprise, the way our differences were brought to the forefront right from the beginning by executive director Lora Wondolowski, made me feel comfortable with just being me( in all my Black girl magic), without fear of making others uncomfortable or feeling like what I said or did represented all of us. This was just the beginning of the many lessons I learned throughout the 10-month program for emerging leaders in Western Massachusetts.  Without giving away all the details (because you should totally check it out yourself), I learned to listen more and react less. Through constant internal evaluation, that everything wasn’t crucial or warranted my input. I didn’t have to take over or take charge, but that I could earn be “happy enough” with the consensus. My strengths were validated and there were strategies I could immediately implement on the day job as well as in my entrepreneurial work.  In the end, it was way more than a list of new contacts, it was realizing how we all benefit from honest, uncomfortable discussions and the value of effectively using your voice. It was building collaborative relationships, friendships, and a new perspective of myself as well the Pioneer Valley.

Class of 2017. A great group of people

Bad Ass Lora Wondolowski, executive director of LPV, handing me my diploma

 For more information about applying for to be a part of class of 2018, visit www.leadershippv.org

Going through it to Get to it

I am tremendously elated to be on the other end of a very

difficult transitional season in my life.

In the last two years I have:

• had my ovaries removed =(adjusting to menopause) 

• had a double mastectomy with full reconstruction

      =(multiple surgeries and body image issues to follow)

• ended an 8 year relationship to the man I lived with and thought I would marry =(adjusting to single life physically, emotionally & financially)

• started a 9 month leadership program (more work, meetings and deadlines)

•   finished my doctoral course work (which meant starting a dissertation).

      That’s a lot right? Well, wait…there’s more.

 

The first half of 2017 was all about:

•  waiting for the arrival of my first grandchild (he came April 3rd),

•  finishing the leadership program (I graduate June 14^th.) 

• completing my dissertation (by the end of summer… FINALLY),

•  and most importantly, after a year and a half of living in pain and discomfort. I have my last surgery date scheduled for July 7.

I was in limbo for so long, it feels amazing to finally have

some closure. Although there will still be some challenges,

physically, emotionally and mentally… I see the light at the

end of the tunnel. It’s bright as hell and I am relieved,

delighted and excited. 

Life Cycles

When I look at this picture, I am flooded with thoughts and emotion. It was 20 years ago, on my 19^th birthday, and I was pregnant. I was in love and had illusions of happily ever after; ready to skip through the parties, meeting new people, and all the experiences college life had to offer and leap right into domestic tranquility. While most of my friends were away, fully emerged into their college lives, I was fully emerged in my son’s father and his family, distancing myself from everything and everyone whom I loved. I had plans to finish college, but only to prove that those naysayers who were so disappointed in my pregnancy were wrong.  But I was lost. I even took a hiatus from writing poetry because all that mattered to me was having enough money to get a place for us- him, our baby, and myself. Myself. Myself became last and remained that way for a long time. That’s why I totally get it when I work with young women who follow my path... I had become so absorbed in the idea that at 19 I was with the love of my life and nothing else mattered. Fortunately for me, I grew the hell up and eventually found myself. Unfortunately many like me remain lost, jumping from relationship to relationship, never finding out who they really are. All I can do is drop little gems here and there, and hope it helps them find their way, much like Hansel and Gretel.

Which leads me to my second thought. More than the idea of evolution is how history repeats itself, and things come full circle. 20 years later, my son 19, with a baby on the way, is trying  ( or maybe not trying ) to find himself. How wild is that? And me, being a mother and refusing to be a hypocrite, must let him walk his own path of self-discovery, understanding that every screw up, every heartbreak is a lesson that will make him stronger and wiser. Talk about Life Cycles.

Lessons in Ratchet TV

Love & Hip Hop is a mess. But it’s my guilty pleasure and it’s definitely a great source for writing about self-esteem and womanhood. Recently, social media blew up after learning that after such a big wedding production last year,  Yandy Smith is not legally married to her children’s father Mendeeces because she never filed the paperwork. As a result, the mothers of  his other children couldn’t wait to condemn her for it. While the drama that resulted is ridiculous,  I still can empathize with the women, so I  won’t bash any of them  but I will defend Yandy’s choice 150%.  
First of all, I’ve been both the old baby momma and the new baby momma (Ugh, I despise that term). As the first baby mom I felt I was entitled to certain rights, that he loved me more that the next, that I was special. I was bitter because even though I called myself ending it with him, he was having a baby with someone he cheated on me with, supposedly when  we were  “on break.” ( Yeah ok, miss me with that one). I could forgive him, but not her.  So I went Petty Labelle on her, trying to make her jealous, keep him over later and a host of other dumb shit.  In my mind, she deserved to hurt the same way I did.Eventually I got my head out of my ass and realized that at the end of the day, I needed to focus on getting myself together, on healing from my own heartbreak instead of trying to cause it for someone else.
 As the new baby momma I thought I was special for a hot second. Once more I learned (first hand and through the lives of others)  about child support, and baby mommas who were angry and bitter, who misused child support  and those who needed every dime. But I also knew baby mommas who were over it and happy with their lives.  At different points in my life I was one who asked for nothing, and also who asked for basics,who demanded equal responsibility.
Based on what I learned about relatonships and self-worth over the last 17 years I respect Yandy for not signing that paperwork. When you marry someone you marry their debt and their credit score. If they don’t have their finances in order, you could in fact wind up paying child support, or the IRS, or extra insurance for their speeding tickets. The reality is, sometimes things don’t work out, and as woman we have to  protect and plan.  Enough us aren’t taught to protect our coins, get prenuptial agreements, invest. We are told to be loving and caring, to put everyone’s needs before our own.  F%ck that.  Happy endings are ideal but not promised and that is why collectively we have to do better, plan more intelligently. I don’t doubt Yandy’s love and devotion to her “husband”  because it’s possible to truly be invested in a man but still be equally invested in yourself. I hope the younger demographic watching takes notes on how to handle finances  and how to NOT handle relationships with women who are mothers to your children’s siblings. 

The Not So Hidden Messages in Hidden Figures

After clapping and crying, being angry,excited and enamoured in a span of 2 hours, I ultimately left the movie theatre feeling inspired and uplifted. The empowering  messages I received from each amazing portrayal of NASA’s African-American human computers in Hidden Figures  were loud, clear and necessary as hell:

1.       Katherine Johnson (played by Taraji P.Henson),  the gifted mathematician, when told no,  refused to accept it as an answer. She was the ultimate example of  "leaning in." When you are capable and talented, don’t back down.  And when they try to shut you up, let your brilliance speak for itself; in other words,  I can show you better than I can tell you. By doing so she went from being ignored to becoming indispensable.

2.       Dorothy Vaughn (played by Octavia Spencer)  took self-determination to another level. Not only did she take the initiative to teach herself about the the first computers, she mastered them, and then taught her  fellow  Black women how to use them as well. In doing so, she too made herself indispensable. More importantly, she pulled her sistas up with her.  Now that is bad assery.

3.       Mary Jackson (played fabulously by Janelle Monae )was intelligent and fiery. Being a woman with high aspirations is tough in 2017, I could only imagine how difficult it was in 1961! With the gender roles issues, work/life balance and every kind of ism  black women are up against today,  it's nothing compared what she experienced and under far more extreme conditions. But it served as a reminder to us all that you cannot let other’s  fears, misconceptions and judgments veer you off track, whether they be institutions or people.  In her story, I saw that somebody has to be the first, why not  me? Why not you?

This movie was just the nudge  I needed to push me me off the cliff of 2016 and into flight of 2017.I’m about to soar... and I'm taking my sistas with me! Thank you ladies, messages received.

 "If they don't give you a seat at the table, bring a folding chair." 

                              - Shirley Chisholm

4 Lessons from 2016

If I had to sum up this year for me in one word, it would be TRANSITION. 2016 was full of changes for me wrapped in lessons, successes and blessings. To start off with, I ended and 8 year relationship (not  BARACK OBAMA  though I am devastated) with someone who I was engaged to, lived with and had a child with.  This was difficult because my decision wasn’t based on something catastrophic, dramatic or scandalous. I didn’t catch him cheating, he didn’t hit me. I just realized that some of our beliefs were so inherently different it affected how we dealt with each other, parenting, goals and overall views on life.  At first I thought, what would everyone think…his family, my family, and the naysayers? But then I had to listen to my inner voice which loudly and repeatedly told me that  he was brought into my life for a reason and a season, but not meant to be my mate for a life time. Imagine trying to articulate that? This was at the beginning of the year, and still we are transitioning from cohabitating fiancés to co-parenting friends.

   The transition to living on my own after 6 years has actually been amazing. It’s given me the opportunity to really self-reflect and think , to take care of myself; to plan.  

 A few months ago, my oldest son told me I was going to be a grandmother in April 2017. This was like the official stamp on the end of an era. No ovaries, in menopause, I’m a grandmother before 40. This transition will be all about letting go and trusting that no matter what my baby will be more than okay, he’ll be great.  

 I also resigned from a leadership team at my day job and began a leadership program outside of my realm. Trying something new was easy; giving up something old was a difficult decision, but so worth it in the end. I was tired of fighting an unnecessary battle, one in which I was asked to go against the warrior and change agent I am.   

But instead of telling you ALLLLLL my business,  I’d like to summarize a few take aways from my last 361 days and hopefully they will speak to your spirit:

    1. Do not allow others to stifle who you are at the core. This includes friends, family, lovers, and employers. If you are asked to do something that is without a doubt contradictory to who you are a person, something that makes you feel guilty, strained, or at war with yourself- don’t do it. Life is too short to live with that type of inner turmoil. Be unabashedly, uniquely you.

    2.  F%CK WHAT OTHER PEOPLE THINK. PERIOD.  Don’t let other people’s fearful, judgmental ideologies dictate what you do.  Tell them to take their SHOULDS and shove ‘em.

    3.  Let go of the people and the things that don’t bring you joy. You can’t choose your family, but you can choose to love them from a distance. When you let go of the things that don’t make you happy, guess what happens…you get happy!

     4. STRETCH. Your thinking, your activities, your mind. Even if it’s a little bit at a time. Change is inevitable but  it is so much more enjoyable when you control it.

These steps are why, even though the devastation of losing Prince ( and OBAMA)  I was able to have an adventurous, happy and amazing transitional year.  What’s next for 2017? Stay tuned! 

1 year later

It’s been a year (actually a little more than a year) since Toya

 the remix. I feel like I died and was born again on that day 

because my life has never been the same. Even when I  look 

at pictures of me I think "that was before the surgery."

First of all, I’m so much more appreciative of the brevity of life and the idea that at any second, it can all be over. So I’m all about living in the moment, taking chances, and not dealing with bullshit.  If a person, place or thing doesn’t bring me joy, then why involve myself?  Secondly, my body acceptance level is at an all-time high, I appreciate my body’s ability to repair itself.  During my first week home, I remembering   feeling like   I would never ever recover, never be strong again.   Mentally I am so much stronger, physically,   I’m still workin on it.  Each day gets better.   There are still days in which I feel a sting in my left  breast from scar tissue if I move the wrong way, I still have weakened muscles  in my abdominal wall which cause a hideous bulge to the lower right. If I stand too long, walk to long, it sticks out and hardens. It’s not a hernia, but it resembles one. It will be re-examined   when I go for my follow up next month. In the meantime, I’m celebrating my health by completing a 5k mud race for the American Cancer Society this weekend.

 If I have to complain, which I try not to, I will say that I feel

 somewhat ASEXUAL. Menopause topped with a complete 

of sensation in my noobies ( new boobs)  has my libido 

NONEXISTENT.  When I’m  dressed, I feel sexy. Even when I 

look at my body naked, aesthetically, I like what I see, but it’s 

the FEELING …the feeling of being a sexual being that is 

absent. 

THIS IS WHERE IT GETS TMI: how does one go 

about becoming aroused when they are consumed with the 

thought of vaginal dryness (even though lubricant is 

available) and the fact that what used to turn you on (nipple 

stimulation) is no longer an option? This is my current 

struggle. This is why I’m just not into sex with myself or 

anyone for that matter. At least not right now.  

Whatever the Hell I Please

                  


It’s tax season and social media has been flooded with 

memes, some hilarious, some not so much. There are the ones about fat or ugly girls having men they supposedly wouldn’t ever be able to attract otherwise. Then there are those, which I’m guilty of laughing at, showing how women look before and after taxes, from weaves to furs and anything else you can imagine. While I have what I believe to be a great sense of humor, the feminist single mother in me cannot help but be offended by some actual written about posts about how we choose to spend our money,  or our audacity not to split the child income credit with our “baby daddy”. While I’m sure every case is different, I’m writing on behalf of the many women I know.  It’s my damn money and I will do what the hell I please!!! 
 As someone who has been in different tax brackets, I have strong feelings about this. When I was living in subsidized housing, with my fuel assistance and Medicaid, I received the EIC (Earned Income Credit) for my son. I was a full-time student who delivered pizzas, substitute taught and did whatever I needed to do pay bills. When I got that tax check, I treated myself to some new clothes to prepare myself for the professional world, bought my son things I normally couldn’t afford and gave money to my babysitters who kept my son for free all year while I worked. I also redecorated my apartment, switching out my son’s toddler size mattress to a twin bed, or upgrading a furniture set or TV ( that was a hand me down) to something newer. It felt good to have that extra money when there were times I was searching my couch cushions for loose change just to have enough for my son's lunch money. One year I used that extra money to buy a new car so that I could stop driving pieces of junk that constantly needed oil, brake fluid, coolant, tires, a jump start or a tow.  Then for two years in a row, I saved my money to use for a down payment on a house so I could get the hell out of the projects.  Fast forward years later, I apparently make too much money for the EIC. Still, I look forward to the benefits of tax season and my substantial refund.  Daycare for my toddler is $500 a month,  I’m paying back money from the my students loans, and I’m an owner of a historic home which is constantly being upgraded for myself and my tenant.  When I get my money, I treat myself first to clothes and shoes, do some home improvements and redecorating, save some, pay ahead some bills and... whatever the hell else I please! 
 A woman should not be condemned for what she does with her tax money, especially not by her “baby daddy”  because he pays child support. Child support??? Please! Unless you’re a celebrity dropping thousands monthly, child support for many of the women I know only pays for sneakers, or haircuts, maybe daycare. And then I know men who only buy their kids "what they need” because they don’t want to put money in a woman’s hands? What a joke! All year long your child needs food, electricity, hot water, heat, and if you’re lucky cable so they can watch Nick Jr.  But it’s the mother who is put down because she wants to treat herself to a mani and pedi, or a new hairdo? Again, I know there are outliers, extremes on both ends, but I’m writing for the many hardworking single mothers who didn’t plan on raising babies alone, and we deserve more respect. Instead of condemning her, why not help her out?  Expose her to some financial options or programs, teach some skills, lend a helping hand, be an emotional support system. 
While today  I'm in a much better place than I was 10 or 15 years ago, I know that the struggle is more than real, it can be  continuous, lonely and exhausting.

This is why every other year I host the She got H.E.R.S conference for young women, mothers or not. We all need a little guidance and encouragement!

Happy Foob Year!

5 days later, here I am wearing the most hideous surgical garment ever. I mean the last ones were ugly, but they were all white and  made no attempt to be cute. However uncomfortable and unattractive this contraption, it does what it’s supposed to, which is support my newly lifted foobs and sewn on fipples.

 I have to say this surgery was a breeze compared to the last two. Aside from the fact that we had our first snow/sleet/ice storm the night before, which caused my surgeon to arrive 15 minutes late, everything went as planned. At 7:45am the anesthesiologist injected my IV with the feel good stuff. At 11:10 I was awakened by a nurse placing pillows under each side of my arms. She told me I could keep sleeping, which I did for another hour. Then I was ready to get up and go. My fiancée came for me, and other than feeling light headed and dizzy, I felt relieved; no more surgeries, I did it. I was home in time to watch Judge Mathis, which I eventually fell asleep on.  With the help of some narcotics, I slept on and off the rest of the day.  The next day, I was still groggy and my only discomfort were the stitches were underneath the foobs. It felt tight, and itchy, but nothing unbearable.  Because I wanted to celebrate with champagne on New Year’s Eve, I was hell bent on not taking any pain meds at all. So I sucked it up. My reward was spending my holiday surrounded by family, and wearing scarves and sweaters to cover up the bulky surgical tube top. I tried to go the whole week with only sponge baths, but once 2016 came around, I gave in, being sure not to wet my bandages. In two more days I will get to see an updated version of my foobs and fipples. 

At this point I’m not even excited about it because I’ve just become more and more accepting of my body no matter what it looks like. Besides, it’s amazing, I mean look at all it’s been through and it continues to heal and allow me to do whatever I set out to!

FREASTS: The last night Part I

Here I am at the 6 week mark for my surgery, and the whole experience has been surreal. Rewind to the last week of August, which was pure chaos for me. It was the first week of professional development for educators and I had to be a presenter. While my summer was great I was feeling extra fat because I needed to put extra meat on my stomach for the surgery and well, I did. Let’s be clear, you cannot spot gain  weight just like you cannot spot lose, so I was feeling plump in all areas. My breasts were the largest they'd
been in a long time and my weight was close to its highest. Therefore I only had like 2 bras I could fit and a few maxi dresses. I was highly emotional all of the time. I was like a pregnant mother nesting, preparing my house for the week would be in the hospital, preparing my toddler for  mommy being "at the doctor’s" for days and him not being able to climb on mommy or mommy not being able to pick him up when I came back. I was decorating a classroom and getting lesson plans ready for my extended absence  (8 to 12 weeks). This meant staying after school for 2 to 3 hours daily while all of the other teachers rushed off to enjoy their last days of summer. I was preparing for a surgery that would not only change my body, but would change my life! The week was flying by as I felt like there wasn't enough time for to complete my to-do list. My surgery was scheduled for August 31, the first day of school for students. I would not be there,  instead I'd be on an operating table being sliced and diced.

  It would be a 10 to 12 hour surgery, I was nervous about not coming out of it alive, I was anxious about how I would react to my “Toya the Remix”. What if I hated my freasts (fake breasts)? What if I looked at this new pair without nipples and with big scars and I panicked?  What if they were lopsided, or my abdominal scar was atrocious? I know supposedly the internet is not your friend when it comes to medicine but I did extensive research, sometimes at 2 and 3am, looking at other people’s scars, finding recovery tips, and while it helped me prepare my home, it definitely put my anxiety at an all-time high. I couldn’t sleep at night. I almost had panic attack thinking about going under and the type of pain I’d have to endure. 

 The only thing that took my attention away was the deadline for my comprehensive exam for my doctoral degree.  I couldn't continue with my dissertation until I passed. It was due September 8, no exceptions, no excuses, even medical (Please believe me, I tried). It was more than 60 pages long. And I would have to complete it a week early if I wanted to succeed.

 Fast forward to the night of Sunday, August 30^th ...the longest night ever. My hospital bag was packed, the house was spotless, everyone was asleep and I had done more research on the procedure than I needed. I had two Reiki sessions and had been put on many prayer lists, so in terms of the actual procedure, I was felt relaxed and prepared. There was only one thing weighing heavily on my mind.I knew I had to finish the exam before I went under because I knew there was no way I’d be able to write coherently once I came out of surgery. As I made edits, my eyes were strained, I wasn't sure if I was thinking clearly. I was hungry as hell, but doing the mandatory fasting, not even water.I had a toddler meltdown at about 1:00am thinking, I should just give up, I should just wait until next semester and retake it, even if it meant more loan money. I wanted my peace of mind; I needed my peace of mind. And then I heard this little voice, scratch that, a big voice tells …  BULL SH*T! You are Brenda’s Child, there’s no giving up! You busted your ass on this for a month and now you wanna quit!?

 The voice sounded a lot like Tom Hanks in a League of Their Own. But instead of yelling “There’s no crying in baseball” he was saying “There’s no giving up. People are counting on you. You aren’t a hypocrite are you? Follow Through.”  

So I did. I finished my paper at 3:34 am. I still didn't hand it in. I closed my laptop, went into the bathroom and looked at my for the last time. I felt my erect nipples for the last time, realizing I'd never know what that would be like again.

 I took a selfie of my extra-large, gravity-stricken breasts and my stomach, that since my first son was born 18 years ago, had looked like two large lips frowning.  I looked at my red sleepy eyes and then I shrugged my shoulders before I took what would be my last shower for 3weeks. Screw it, I’d sleep under anesthesia. I was going to let everything go and clear my mind for the surgery I had to report to at 5:45am.  I was signing off.