Oh. My. God. When I start an entry like that, you should know something very important and profound has happened! A great thing, absolutely amazing. And beautiful. I haven't felt this relaxed and at ease since... I literally can't remember. A decade ago? Two decades? My mother's womb? I don't know. It's a little hard to type cause my fingers feel like spaghetti. I'm THAT relaxed. It's so amazing. Okay, I'll tell you what happened!
I did the meditation thing to reach beyond my grief, to find what was hidden beyond it. Well... it did not quite go as I had expected. It took an entirely different route. There is nothing behind the grief. My mind tricked me! The wall of grief is not a door. There was no opening, nowhere to get in. However, it was the grief itself that I needed to reach.
I did all kinds of preparations to reach my inner child. I wrote a letter to her, in Swedish, even using my birth name. I went down to my storage room in the cellar and picked up plushies and clothes from my childhood, and piled it all up on my desk, along with a naked Barbie doll. The Barbie because... I was obsessed with their boobs as a kid and kept playing with them and had all sorts of games that involved the Barbie's tits. Everything from those violent games that involved cutting off their tits (in imagination, I didn't break the dolls) and having the Ken dolls eat the Barbie's (imaginary) boobs on a plate... to sexual games that mostly involved two Barbies being very cosy with each other's boobs and making out. I guess that was my idea of lesbian sex as a kid. I was most definitely OBSESSED with boobs long before I grew a pair myself. Also all the probably hundreds of drawings I made of women's bare chests, usually with ridiculously huge boobs that exceeded the size of the rest of the entire woman... by far. Guessing I always had a thing for big boobs, ahaha. It fascinated me so much, that kind of body part. And uhm yeah I was so fucking gay already back then! I think I was attracted to boobs, and female curves in general, already at like age 5 or something. That predates my attraction to anything or anyone male... by around 3 years. Interesting. So anyhow, I just thought that playing with that Barbie a bit now could maybe trigger something about boobs in me.
Well at first I put on my old nightie from my childhood, panties and black sweatpants. Then sat down by my computer, put on a playlist with songs I either remembered from my childhood or that just reminds me of it. Calm songs. And then I meditated a bit to get relaxed and try to get distracting thoughts out of my mind. I then played a little with the toys and the other clothes (a favourite shirt I had age 4 through 8) to try to reach my inner child but kinda felt like it wasn't working. I thought I was just being impatient so I relaxed some more and read that letter I had written to my inner child. Nothing. I was more confused than impatient at that point.
So I put the toys away and reached my hand under the nightie to touch my chest. It made me uncomfortable and it felt like I was tearing at something very painful within my chest. As if I had internal wounds that felt cold when I added pressure. Like putting ice against a bruise. Weird feeling, and most certainly psychological. So that triggered something and I grimased at how it made me feel but it wasn't quite enough. So I thought "fuck it" and took off the nightie...
I grabbed and stroke my chest in ways that reminded me of how flat it is, and forced myself to stare at it. It was desperate movement as if I was scratching at a door begging to be let inside. Until the door (figuratively) burst open. An extremely intense pain and sadness hit me HARD, so very hard... and I started to cry. I bent over my knee to hold my head with one hand and keep touching my chest with the other as I cried and cried and cried... It was that hulking, ugly kind of cry when you just can't hold yourself together at all and there's just tears and snot everywhere and you wrinkle up your face and make almost childlike noises. I started shaking and holding myself tighter.
I cried out "I miss my boobs, I miss them so much" over and over along with "I want them back, I want my boobs back". Then I cried out "What I have I done, what have I done" over and over. Other phrases that I blurped out after that were:
"I loved them so much, I really did, I loved them so much"
"They were mine, my boobs"
"They were so cute, my little boobies"
"They felt so good to touch and just hold in my hands and squeeze together"
"Why did I do it, why?"
Then I started talking in phrases directed to myself, while still crying hard:
"I promise I'll fix this, I'll fix it in any way I can"
"I know it can get better, cause I'll do anything I can to make it better"
"I'm sorry, I'm so sorry"
"I failed you"
"I'll love the new boobs so much, they'll also be mine, my own boobs and I'll love them more than I ever could the old ones"
"It will get better, I know it will, I promise"
And then my cries started to lift and get lighter. When they had stopped I remained in my position for a moment, noticed I soaked my entire knee in snot and tears. I just breathed for a moment to collect myself before I slowly lift up my head and sat up straight again. I felt immensely cleansed, like I had just gotten out from a spa or something. I smiled and said "Thank you" to myself, for giving me that incredible release.
Then I put on my bra and regular clothes again, and felt so incredibly comforted by the breast forms on my chest. More right than ever. I made a cup of blue fruit tea and went out for a smoke to just wind down and soothe myself a little bit extra. According to the music playlist I had been listening to, I had been crying for around 10 minutes. I've cried like that before, last time was some 5 years ago, but I have never experienced such an intensely relieving and cleansed feeling afterwards before. I think I know why: for the first time I ever, I didn't feel like it was embarrassing or a sign of weakness to cry. And for the first time ever, I let myself feel all that pain I had bottled up for so long, and truly express it all, without judgement. It felt so natural, and I loved every tear, and every movement and sound I made, cause it was all genuine and I let myself cry genuinely and just let it all out.
And damn... I really feel like I did get it all out. Everything. Like it rinsed me clean. A million times cleaner than I've ever felt before. Like true, actual purity. Not the crap lie of "purity" that Christianity talks about. No, actual, natural purity. The purity of being true to yourself and loving your flaws, and caring for your pain. No blame, no shame. And I think I even also connected to... a feeling of innocence. Like I had done nothing wrong or it didn't matter if I had, cause I knew I can fix it somehow, I knew I can make it better.
In short, what I found was that my grief needed me to really know it. It needed for me to know its true depth and all the feelings captured within it. It needed to reassure me that yes... I truly need breast reconstruction surgery. I got and still get a very clear "signalling" feeling that that was the message. But oh my god, my mind is such a sassy bitch for having me so scared and worried about what it wanted to show me, and then it calms and soothes me like nothing ever has before and reassures me I was right about needing new boobs. My entire body needs new boobs. I could feel it how my shaking limbs somehow all gathered towards my chest as if every single cell within me tried to comfort my chest and rebuild it. It was a very strange and sad, but also very beautiful feeling. Like an entire city gathering to mourn one dead person cause that person had been much more loved than they ever thought they were in life. And it makes the bloody news how an entire city grieves. And watching that news clip sends shivers down your spine cause of all that collective grief but also all that collective love and care.
That's how it felt when I cried, like my entire body showed collective grief, love and care for my chest in a way I never could have expected and it sent shivers down my spine. And all those phrases I said were my truest, most genuine feelings and thoughts about my chest, that just fell out of my mouth. If I hadn't been so worried about disturbing the neighbours, I would have screamed too. Just screamed my pain out loud. But I didn't want to risk having the cops called on me again cause of the neighbours thinking I'm being murdered or something... so I held back that scream. For convenience's sake.
Do I know for sure now that I truly, most definitely want and need that surgery. Yes. YES. Fucking yes! There's no doubt about it. Literally my entire body cried out "need new boobs, can't manage without them" in a sobbing choir! I think the answer can't get much clearer than that!
Of course I will still keep my senses keen on any new signs, messages, thought, feelings or inklings I may get. All the way up to the point of surgery, I will listen to my body, all of it. Even if so my feet suddenly start having doubts about boob surgery! But unless I get any contradicting and/or doubtful anythings my senses can pick up on, I will get that surgery. Cause I just KNOW it's right. I feel it all the way into my soul now. Something that feels THIS very right for me simply won't be a mistake. I can't figure out a single reason why it could in any capacity be a mistake. No matter how hard or deep I dig for such a reason, there are none to be found.
But god damn... it was just such an incredible experience. And exactly what I needed. Oh fuck I've needed it since the beginning of July! I've begged for it, prayed for it, literally kneeled and pleaded for it to happen. "Release me, please" I kept begging and hoping. Guess I had to do it myself, like usually! But wow... that was truly beyond liberating. I'm gonna go eat soon, before I'll fall asleep. If I can manage to post this first. I'm gonna have to post it unedited, cause I struggle too much to keep my eyes open to be able to read. Literally. I hope you'll survive the typos.
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