ADH, and what’s to come …

 I just wanted this to be over…. 

I’ve said that a lot in the past week, I am feeling it deep in my core, yet I can’t will it to be true.

My results came back, and the news wasn’t terrible (so they tell me) but in my overworked brain, the news also isn’t great. 

I have what are called ADH cells in my right breast. They aren’t cancer, yet but generally they turn into cancer if not detected right away. 

Freaking awesome. 

Get these things out of me. 

Like NOW.

Why is there so much waiting around a disease that takes two lives each minute in the US?? You would think things would move at warp speed. 

Ok let me backtrack and gather the science before my run away train brain leaves the station and ends up stressing us all out more. 

Atypical Ductal Hyperplasia cells are associated with an increased risk for breast cancer and therefore classified as high risk lesion but not precursor lesion. 

So again, not breast cancer, yet… but if left undetected/untreated that is likely the outcome of cells of this type. 

I have a consultation with a surgeon for next steps in a week. Within these two weeks I have been and likely will continue going round and round emotionally and mentally preparing for the worst. 

But hey, a boob job down the road might be nice since age and gravity are not cooperating members of my age bracket.

Prepping for worst case scenarios is my survival mode, always has been. As long as I am prepared for the devastating outcomes, when they don’t happen I’m pleasantly surprised lol. 

Self torture with a side of mellow drama please.

Yes I am mentally prepping to remove parts of my body that may, long term, try to kill me; or at the very least make me incredibly sick.

I’ve seen it in real time, I know the cost associated with this unnatural disease. If I am being honest I swore I would never go through treatment knowing what I know, living through what I lived through. 

See- runaway train pulling out of the station at high speed.

Deeeep breaths. 

We aren’t there. 

I also have an appointment for the BRCA genetic testing that I have been putting off for 17 years (straight out of fear of the results) but now it seems like my age, genetics, hormones, and life are shoving me through that doorway fear or not. 

I am brave. I am brave. I am brave.

To all the women in my life: my strong, beautiful, bold, independent, loving, nurturing and all the other incredible things that you are- PLEASE put your health first. PUT OFF NOTHING.

Get the mammograms, the biopsies, the genetic testing… our bodies seem to work against us (along with the patriarchy- how fun!) and we need to be our own advocates just as we are the loud advocates for our loved ones.

I wanted this to be over, but it’s not.

 It feels like I have a road ahead of me that I knew would eventually walk. Not sure how graceful I feel, but I am clenching the good news part of this journey in my hot little fist with all my strength, leaning on my people, venting to the ears who will listen and eyes who will read as things unfold.

Promises Kept

 I made the decision last summer to devote myself to… myself.

To my health. Mental and physical. 

Like everyone I have trauma and loss, and at 45 these things have piled up and I refuse to let them swallow me whole. 

So I made a promise to myself to take an active part in healing my mental and physical health. It’s funny, I feel like while I’m wildly independent, I have been a passenger in my own life for decades. Letting what happens define me, mold me, teach me… but I haven’t been the leader here, I’ve been the follower of my circumstances.

In January I had surgery.

 I took my unfortunate genetics into my own hands after battling my weight for most of my adolescent and adult life. It was the best decision I have ever made for myself.

 I showed up for me. 

 I fought for me. 

And 3 months later I feel more me than I think I have in 25 years. 

Go me. 

Early April I went in for my yearly Mammogram. If you know me personally, you know my mom lost her battle to breast cancer at 50 years old after a long hard fought 5 years. What that means in the breast cancer world is that I am high risk and have been getting yearly mammograms since I was 36. So basically I’m a pro at this point.

I got the call back- “we see some irregular calcifications, we want more imaging” 

Crap. 

No, ok… I got this. Fear of this day will not eat me alive. I’m strong, brave, and fearless (mostly). 

I went in for my second imaging. After approximately one million images the doctor came in. “I’m recommending a biopsy. You’re high risk and we don’t want to take chances. I’m also referring you to the Breast Cancer Center for all future imaging as well as yearly MRI’s” 

Brave.

Fearless.

I will not break over this. 

Yesterday I went in for a biopsy which was very far from what I had anticipated it would be.

Emotionally, it was traumatic. And this is not the fault of the incredible women who took care of me all morning, because they were kind and gentle and talked me through every single step. It actually didn’t even hurt that much. 

The trauma lies with my past, and it keeps threatening to take me down. 

After all the collections were done in both sites on one side, they patched me up, glued me together, and said 3-4 business days I would have results.

So here I sit in these emotions…

Not feeling brave or fearless… but trying like hell to cling to the stubbornness that runs through my familial veins. 

I have no idea what is going to happen, which is my least favorite place to be. I’m a control freak, I have plans A-Z lined up for every facet of my life. I don’t like to live in the unknown, does anyone?? 

Thankfully through the last year with my incredible therapist, I have worked on sitting with things. We’re breaking down my advanced compartmentalization way of not coping, and teaching me to feel things as they come. I’ll be honest, this isn’t my favorite thing to do. I have more important things in life to spend my time thinking about, right? 

No. 

I made a promise to myself. 

Mental and physical health, we face each thing as they come. 

No more boxes filled with trauma that threaten to burst open when more than one thing hits me at once reminding me of a past that tried to eat me alive. No more secret closets with my true feelings and emotions packed away, waiting for the right time.

Nervous.

Anxious.

But still brave… and waiting. 

Who knew self devotion could be so hard? 

Here’s to driving my own bus, and not being a passenger in this life. Tomorrow is never promised, make today beautiful. 

44 - A Letter to Myself

 44, huh… 

It’s been a pretty incredible life so far. Some of the most beautiful highs that a life has to offer, and some of the hardest lows that I pray I never have to see again.

This last year though, shoot, the last 4 years if I am being honest, those have left some marks. Some emotional scars that I am still healing from; that I’m trying to mold into the smirks and room lighting smiles that I hold close to my heart, into love.

But first, let me thank you for fighting you way out and being an amazing advocate for your own mental health. Giiiiirl, those signs are hard to see and those steps are steep to climb, but you did. You SO did, and here we are today, more ourself than maybe we ever have been. (A special thank you to my rocks, actually you’re more like boulders who supported me to taking those steps)

Maybe that’s why a lot of the last two years have hurt so deeply; you finally learned to not run from your pain, the grief that used to swallow you whole. You dug your feet deep into the sand and stayed to face storm after storm. 

So today is deep breath day. Deep, thankful, cleansing rebirth, breath day where we slowly breathe out all of that hurt, and breathe in every single memory that keeps us warm and makes us smile.

44, and this is the year! 

Soon we will be basking in the velvet seas of Mexico, sharing in beautiful groove after groove, smiling until our face hurts.

Then off to Italy, the YOLO trip of a lifetime. (Seriously do not wake me from that simulation)

If 19 year old Tatum knew what open possibilities there were for her in this world, she may have been a little less angry, less bitter. I’m grateful for 30 year old Tatum who helped smooth those splintered corners and harsh surfaces, thankful for 40 year old Tatum who told us all to get our sh!t together because we know more than most, just how fleeting life is.

I look back, and I recognize every decade of my self. I remember every growing pain and every sweet lush grassy field on the other side of it and I do not plan on stopping.

So lady, here’s to 44. May she teach you the grace we are going to need when 44 becomes 50.

To all of you in my life, some near, but mostly far, my life is full and beautiful because you are in it. These experiences I have had, have never been alone; you have never let me feel alone. Not much gets better than that. 

So feel free to celebrate my birthday today, smile at a stranger, check in on a loved one, adopt an elderly cat, send random things in the mail to someone you miss(my go to move lol) - and thank you for being part of my world. 

Untitled Grief

 I have been watching my best friend die for the better part of the last year and a half. Watching her grow painfully thin, noticing her sleeping more, playing less and age greatly in front of my eyes.

My four legged sidekick of the past 18 years has hyperthyroidism, the medication that we give her for it, has given her renal disease and is destroying her kidneys.

I’m fighting a wildfire with lighter fluid and most days I don’t know what I’m even doing. 

Delilah Jones came into my life at a peculiar time. I was in my twenties, living in NH with two cats and not looking for a 3rd.

This runt of the litter found me, burrowed into my heart, connected her life force to my soul, and we never looked back. 

She was born in NH, lived in several towns in Mass, two towns (3 homes) in NJ, rode in a tiny little VW Golf all the way from Boston to San Francisco and continued her 9 lives in the city of Neverland for 5 years, to San Jose, then after an excruciating 9 hours in the VW Tiguan she lived a short stint in La Jolla to finally what we assume her final resting place is in our little home by the ocean in San Diego.

My little soul mate has not only traveled everywhere with me, but has lived through the absolute most difficult times of my life. 

   She also has been there for the most joyfully abundant and full of love times that I have experienced. 

Somewhere along our path she met Andrew, and for some reason she connected to him quickly. I’m not sure if she sensed my own feelings or just knew how special he is- but every time he would walk down into my room she would greet him, on my ugly pink office chair from ikea, perched up on her hind legs meowing for his attention (I feel that girlfriend) waiting for him to scratch her forehead and give her love.

This continued on until they became roommates and he was the 3rd wheel in our cozy bed. 

Later it evolved into her taking his meetings sitting on his shoulders licking his head as his coworkers tried to keep a straight face.

My girl always has always been the little attention lover.

We watch her sleep a lot these days.

A lot.

And while I watch her, I spend my quiet moments remembering her quirks, her loud raspy meows that we don’t hear much anymore….. how she loved to be snuggled but you got the 4 paw stiff arm if you picked her up. 

Her terms only…. I feel that too, love. 

The strong will to set boundaries, but also be open hearted.

Man that just defines my girl.

In 2013 I married my best friend, but my soul mate has 4 paws, brown fur, white paws, and the most gorgeous green eyes I have ever wandered into. 

I’m not sure if these ramblings are a tribute, grief… 

if it’s the words to the tears that fall down my face daily these days….

If you know me, if you know her then you get it. You know.

She’s such a beautiful soul that she’s turned cat haters into people who have loved her, dearly. 

Delilah Jones, her name from a Dead tune that’s always spoken to me…. Being a brown eyed woman, and all.

She has lived a legendary life. 

Queen bee of her home, )wherever it was, whoever home was….)

Master of sand paper kisses

Bard of raspy meows

Taster of all snacks

Chewer of stray fingers

Holder of hands, owner of my heart.

I am just not ready for you to go, but I can’t bear to make you stay….

They say grief is just love with no where to go, and I’m just not prepared to grieve forever

The Bleeding Heart

My heart hurts.

My heart hurts for so much happening around the globe and in our country. 

It hurts for the hate and bigotry and unnecessary loss of life. 

The unfathomable fear that humans live in every day just because their skin is a darker shade, and their murderers are taught that it’s ok to take their precious life.

I am livid that this continues and we can’t seem to put a stop to it, and I deeply weep for families who mourn these tragic losses. 

My heart hurts for our country, our government refused to take proper precautions to hinder the quick spread of a virus, because the bottom line is always money.

It breaks for the needless loss of life, and fear that lives inside each of us during this unprecedented pandemic. 

My heart aches for pieces of the life I once knew, bear hugs from my family, and belly laughter with my humans. 

I ache to live and thrive, while we are stuck in the limbo of survival....

There are too many questions and not enough answers. 

Too much pain and not enough love.

Too much hate and not enough compassion. 

...it’s just too much and my heart, right now, just hurts.... 

Self Care and 40's

Last year I turned 40, which seemed like a silly joke, like "hey I'm 40, how the heck did this happen??"

This year I turned 41 and I am not laughing.
My mother was diagnosed with stage 4 breast cancer at 45, and lost her battle at 50- so the years are looming and I live in fear of these numbers.
I am SO not laughing.

I had a very hard winter, I had a breakdown and was diagnosed with panic disorder and severe anxiety. I thought that I would never feel like me again.
Fear had taken over, and that fearless girl who had always lived inside me seemed to slip away.
I may have been diagnosed last winter but I have been living with severe anxiety and panic for a number of years, to the point that I stopped driving.
I still don't drive, but that is a personal goal this year. We'll see how that goes.

I have been disappointed in myself for a long time, letting fear take over and rule how I live my life... this was certainly not how I was raised by 3 of the strongest people I have ever known. I had lost my independence. Life was dark, and all I could do was reach out to my rocks for the support that I couldn't give myself.
...and let me tell you, those rocks, those wonderfully unconditionally loving human beings saved me over and over and over, and still do every day. I am so lucky.

So, once diagnosed, I started on a path to find myself again. Which is what I think the meaning of life is, finding yourself over and over, because we really don't ever stay the same through all of life's ups and downs, do we?
I made a promise to myself this year, in 2020 that I would take care of myself the way I take care of those that I love. It's not something I am good at, taking care of me- I'm needy, I have some heavy baggage stuffed full of trauma and most of it (almost all of it) I prefer not to remember. However, my mind, and body have had enough of my avoidance so here I am...spilling my findings into this silly little blog that is always here when I need it.

Truth- I NEVER knew how important self care was. Like ever. So here I am teaching myself that life isn't about work and housework, and running yourself into the ground tired with "To Do lists".
I believe my anxiety is at her most active when I am idle, so I list all the things that I "should" do and I just do...until I fall asleep.
Yesterday I tossed the "to do's" aside and packed a little cooler for Andrew and I to spend a few hours at our pool. It was DELIGHTFUL. I laid in the sun (with 50 sunscreen and a hat) and read, I sat in the pool and let the warmth wash over me, while the water lapped at my exhausted body. Then I made dinner and we watched a movie.
Self Care:sometimes it means a day of things that bring you joy.

Today I got up, had my tea (apparently panic disorder and coffee doesn't mix, yeah I feel bad for me too) and made the decision to go down to the gym.
Now let me be clear, I could count on 1 hand how many times that I have been to the gym in the last 10 years. I am not a gym girl. I am a "housework is my therapy" girl. But something in my mind said "you need this, you're 41 and we aren't bouncing back like we used to" so I did it.
I wasn't there long, but I was there.
I showed up for myself and that's also not something that I normally do...but its now something that I will continue to do because I am worth caring for.

To The Boy Who Saved Me

I write a lot about my past, my pain, my growth and lots of random things between, yet don’t think I have taken a minute to write about the boy who saved my life.

It was the summer of 2006 when I met the guy of my dreams, I just didn’t know it yet. 

We had a quick introduction at a music festival, then I skipped off on my merry little way and didn’t think about it again until we ran into each other the following winter at an indoor music event in Western Mass. I can still remember the electricity....really though, I had no idea.

Our paths crossed many times in the following months, and each time I was more drawn to him. His energy, his smile.... his unbearable sarcastic sense of humor, and obviously his music.

In the midst of all the criss crossing we’d become close friends-phone calls, texting, myspace posts (you heard me, I'm old shut up)

....we had become so close that when my mom took a turn for the worst, he was my rock when I thought I would float away on my tears of grief. 

Stonehenge 2007

There’s something so pure and beautiful about a relationship that begins on a bedrock of friendship. I knew, long before I should have known, that I was hopeless for him. 

He was my friend. 

My trusted sounding board. 

A source of laughter and distraction when I needed it most. 

I should stop talking about all these emotions as though they’re in the past because he, to this day, is still all of those things, and so very much more. 

Most little girls dream about marrying their prince, I always dreamed about marrying my best friend.... and I did in 2013 on the most gorgeous day.

Life has thrown, well, basically everything at us. 

We lost our home, lived with both sets of our parents, then moved away from everyone and everything we ever knew, and started from scratch.... what made it bearable is that we did it together. 

I am stronger because of you.

I’m HAPPIER because of you.

I survived some incredibly hard times, because of you.

So happy birthday, my love. 

I am more thankful every single day, for you.

-Team Us-

Xoxo