So many people have told me that I need to do more than just blog about my story. I’ve been told by a myriad of people that I need to write a book. I’ve even been pressured by my husband. This is the man who won’t even write an entry for this blog. Yet I’m expected to rip my heart out one more time and tell my story in vivid, screaming color.
I know that writing a book is the next step. The problem is that I’m not done yet. I have one more surgery to go and it will probably take place in early to mid May.
I just want this all to be over with.
I want to be able to be done with it so that I can move on with my life. I want to be able to let the memories fade. I don’t want to start crying when I think about the 31 Flavors of Hell I and my family have been through. I’m so wracked with emotion. I’m grieving, I’m angry, I’m nervous, I’m stressing out and a bunch of other shit.
Some days I wish I could be like lots of other women out there. The ones who suffer in silence but once it’s over with, that’s it. They don’t dredge up little details and end up in a cringing puddle of their own tears.
I wanted to do this so that other women knew they weren’t alone. Now it’s my turn to feel isolated and alone. I feel like I’m the only one out here reliving these horrors so that others have some place to come and learn about the extremes of what can happen with plastic surgery.
Boobcast is also a place to come and have a vivid look at my life. I’ve put myself on display and you have seen me at my absolute worst both emotionally and physically.
The truth is I’m getting tired of being the brave one. I just want this all to be over with so that I can be normal again. Aaanndd…here come the tears again.. Shit.
I’m not complaining about you, dear reader. Each of you is precious to me. You take time out of your day to come here and read what I write. That means more to me than you can begin to imagine.
Thanks to you I know that the last 2+ years of my life haven’t been some cosmic joke of wasted time. I know I’ve made a difference for some of you.
I’m just…tired. I’m wearing down emotionally again.
I just want to be done.
But I can’t be done with it and here’s why. I have made myself obligated to educate people about the extremes of what can happen when plastic surgery goes wrong. I will be damned if I let the butcher that did this to me take control of my life!
In the next post I’ll talk more about planning stages for the book.