One year ago today I had my double mastectomy. I didn’t think I would get emotional, and then the “on this day” post came up on the Facebook feed. As I was reading the updates and words of encouragement, and them my first response out of surgery “Nastiiieeee, yay crackers.”, I started to ponder the feelings and emotions from that day. I have to say I had never been so terrified in my life. The entire experience is kind of a blur. I remember the tears rolling down my face and trying not to panic as they put me under. So many different thoughts and emotions and then just being numb. I remember waking up in my room, not having remembered a thing from being in the recovery room. I remember how sick I felt and how I had never experienced pain like this before. I remember feeling like I hit rock bottom. Hairless, flat chested and unable to think straight. Tubes hanging out of my sides and unable to feel anything, physically and emotionally. People trying to comfort me but there was no comfort to be had. Feeling like everything was taken away from me. The realization that I was literally going to have to rebuild myself from the ground up.

If ever there was a darkest time in my life, this would be that time. Only those who have gone through this can relate, although others would tell me about their surgeries and time in the hospital. And those people who reassured me that I would have reconstruction before I knew it so it wasn’t that big of a deal. The jokes about all this to get a new set of boobs. Realizing how utterly ignorant people were.

So here I am 1 year later. I am still not a candidate for reconstruction. And I’m really okay with it. I still have numbness where the scars are and the surrounding area. I still get pains in my chest and under my arms. I still freak out with feeling the clips and scar tissue wondering for a brief moment if I’m going to have to face round two.

The psychological part of all this is getting better. I’m getting used to my new body and rolling with the changes of new normal. I still don’t have the upper body strength or range of motion I once had, but I’m working on it and it all gets better every day. I do yoga once a week (which I really need to do it more). I’ve started to lift weights (about 20 lbs).  I’ve had a few setbacks over the last year, but I’m definitely better than I was! I would estimate that I’m at about 75% at this point.  (physically and mentally)

I’ve gotten to the point where I don’t talk about any of this anymore. I’m trying not to dwell in the past. Now I’m not saying that I will ever forget any of this, I am just trying to move forward. When I was going through everything I was very open about every step. Now I find myself keeping much if it to myself. This last year has been a very exhausting journey personally. I think I’m not sharing as much because I don’t want to use it as a crutch and people just get sick and tired of hearing about it. But mostly because it’s been such a personal growth experience for me.

The further away it gets the less real it seems to have been. I know over the years, people will forget. People will never realize the impact and the pain and the struggle. There are still times when I feel so completely alone because of all of this. The friends and family that have fizzled away. Those who are bothered that I’m not quite the same person as I once was. Those who can’t understand why I sometimes get quiet and lose myself in thought. Why sometimes I think about it and just break down because it is still so overwhelming.

So I will celebrate the anniversaries over the years, and look back to remember the struggle and how far I have come. I will celebrate how I overcame so much in one year.  I will celebrate how it has shaped me emotionally and physically. And I will celebrate being alive.