Wednesday, March 11, 2020

My Year in New York.



It’s approaching the one year mark to when I made the move to New York City. A dream I’ve had since I can remember. "I want to dream in the city that never sleeps." Seems like the year that my dreams came true should be wrapped up and presented to you in a perfect satin bow, but as life is most often, things are not always that simple. If I’m being very honest with you, I knew before I officially moved that this was probably not going to be the end to all my plans. However, I did fully commit to my decision and planned on this being my new home for a long time. I don’t do well with confinement. Feeling trapped, committed to with no way out. My mother jokes that when I was a child she would put me to bed and tuck me in. “Snug as a bug in a rug”, she’d say, and I instead of being comforted by the safety and warmth, I felt trapped and suffocated and I would scream and cry and usually slept with one foot outside the covers. Not much has changed in my adult life. While stability, structure, and organization are all things I desperately crave, flexibility, transparency and openness are also extremely important to me. I say all this to make the point that I can not feel too “tied down” to anything. I have a feeling this makes me sound a lot more whimsy and free-spirited than I intend it to. So please stay with me here. Upon my arrival there were many tearful nights had. Nights where I felt like this big bad city was too intimidating to face every single day. Every day I would try to challenge myself to do a little more than the last. Whether it be walk on a different side of the sidewalk or try a different coffee shop. Eventually I made a deal with myself to try something new every week. I’m proud to say, I’ve pretty much kept that promise to myself to this day.



 Coming here, I knew only 1 person. A coworker. In fact, it was with his help that I was able to get this job and move in the first place. We worked together shortly in Austin, and when he was given the job, the title we shared, I was so excited for him. I did not know him well, but I took the time to send him a personal message to say I was so happy for him and that he was so deserving of the promotion. As time passed, I decide to reach out to him to find out more about the project and learn more about the position. I expressed to him that I was very interested and was honest with him about me wanting to move to New York. I told him this was all aligned with what I wanted to pursue, and I couldn’t believe our company was heading this amazing initiative. Eventually, with a lot of effort on my end and direction on his, I made it up there. He was so happy for me and very welcoming. Before the move he offered himself so selflessly and told me if I ever needed anything to let him know. I remember saying that I didn’t want to impose, and his response was “not possible”. One evening I was home on Facebook scrolling on my feed. Nothing out of the usual. Then I saw a photo of my friend, the one person I knew in New York. The guy who so kindly helped me with this very difficult transition. It was a tagged post. Written by his mother. I must of read it 10 times before it actually sunk in. He was gone. Just like that. My stomach dropped, and my heart sank. My immediate reaction was this can not be true. I took a screenshot of the picture and I sent it to my coworker. I texted her almost in effort to convince me it wasn’t true. She confirmed it. The next days were not a blur, like many say, but actually permanently permeated in my brain forever. We met his family. We watched them grieve ever so gracefully. I watched them in awe and with so much empathy. I kept thinking I can not imagine what they must be feeling. It broke my heart. It still does to this day. Coworkers shared their stories of him and many looked to me to share more since we knew each other from back home. The truth is I didn’t know him all that well. In fact, not very well at all. I attempted to reach out and offer my friendship once before, but he politely declined. He said he should “probably try to make friends with people he didn’t know”. I didn’t take offense to it, I probably was a huge annoyance to him constantly asking him questions about work and how to get around, where to eat, and what have you. But of course having lost him made me think back and questioned if I should of tried harder. There were moments where I thought this doesn’t seem like him, the little I know, this seems out of character for him. I thought, I should try again and ask him if everything is okay. But I didn’t in fear of “freaking him out”. I thought he is going to think I’m weird or something. I should just give him his space. And just like that I never got another opportunity. When people shared their memories of him there was always a common theme. His kindness, his intelligence, his humor. He was a truly remarkable person. This loss will forever stay with me. I’ve never lost a friend before. To be completely selfish for a moment, it felt like this big bad city chewed him up. He was devoured by New York. My anxiety was at an all time high. Every noise outside my door was a monster trying to break in. Every siren was another death, an alarm, a loss. My fear began to consume me. Any little progress I made in the city immediately regressed. I decided to see a therapist to talk through all of these fears. I tried to explain that it was not normal for me to be afraid that my buzzer was actually a threat, an intruder coming to steal or harm me. I saw her for about 5 weeks. I started to feel that she wasn’t quite understanding me and tried to process everything on my own. I struggled with sharing my feelings about what happened, but it did. I can only speak for my personal feelings of what happened. I have nothing but respect and love for my friend and his family. 






With time, the loss of my friend was becoming a little easier to deal with. I struggled with letting go of the pain and moving on because I felt he had to be respected and remembered. But the people around me didn’t want to talk about it anymore. They had to process this loss too. I had to respect their healing as well. I began to really make an effort to try new things. Take classes, go to museums, go on dates. Many people ask me what dating in New York is like. In my experience, its’ not much different than it is anywhere else, although with one major factor. People are a little jaded. There are over 8 million people in Manhattan alone. If you are not an instant match to this person, there will be another. On to the next. I also feel it is a lot more transnational than what I’m used to. Dating culture today as a whole is very much casual and little to no commitment, however here I find that guys often try to tell me what they think I want to hear. “I am really looking to get married, and have kids in the next 2 years” or “I have so much money”, or “Has anyone ever told you, you are so beautiful”? Umm, yes. I am almost 30 years old. You really think you are the first person who has every objectively thought that I am attractive? Come on, guys. Step it up. Of course, I am a little jaded too. So all these statements were quite clear to me in their intentions. I do often think, that there must many girls who maybe do not see through these lines. Who take those backhanded compliments and think they were given with the intention to gain affection and give love. For those girls I say, know your worth. 




With a year of being single, I’ve started to see a pattern in men’s behavior. Positive patterns, I think. (Some)Men are selfish. Why is this positive? Well, they do not think twice about taking a trip alone on their birthday (or yours) because they want to. They don’t feel as if anything or anyone is missing. They decide they want to see a place, book it, and go. Probably don’t even tell you until they’re there.  Men will haggle about everything until they get their way. Whether it be the price of a cab. The entry pay to their new job. Dinner. Or with you about something they want. They are not ashamed or embarrassed. What I’ve learned about men, is they run their lives like they are the CEO of their life. They make the decisions for better or for worse. I realized I was running my life like an employee. Hoping that this decision was acceptable. Would it steer me toward my goal? Is it okay with this person or that person? Am I going to hurt his or her feelings? I’ve decided I need to take a note from these men I’ve met and start running my life like a CEO. No one know their “path”. You can’t really map out your life. What you can do is research your choices to see if they make financial sense and then emotional sense. Will it make me financially secure, and will it make me happy? It’s that simple. With this new attitude, I’ve decided New York City is no longer where I want to be. It does not make financial sense and I am not happy. My stepdad had a stroke in November. Worst than his last. Left him debilitated and basically bed ridden for months. My mom became an instant full-time care taker. I cried and cried for days feeling helpless. My mother contemplating decisions that were heart breaking and unthinkable just weeks before. I knew I had to come home. My sister is having another baby, and with her son and daughter growing up it is nearly impossible to help my parents in their situation. I felt a duty to my family. To be there and help them as much as I can. I don’t know that there is much I can do. My stepdad is progressing and gets better every day, but there is still a difficult road ahead for my parents and family. And you know what, I don’t want to miss it. I want to be there. I want them to know I have their back. I’ve contemplated what this decision really means. Questioned, am I giving up? What could have been? Could I of stuck it out longer? And the answers to those questions, I may never really know. Maybe I am giving up, but I realized that don’t need to prove anything to anyone. Living in New York is fantastic, but it is a series of sacrifices. Every single day is like a battle. Facing the world to buy milk is an achievement. For some people, I’m sure, this is the best city in the world. I can certainly see why, but it also incredibly taxing. (Figuratively and literally – Did you know that you are taxed by the state and the city?).  I will always look back at this time in my life and be very proud I did this. I did it alone. No one to greet me at the end of my day, no one to make me dinner or even ask if I’ve eaten dinner. I’ve learned a lot, and I’m not just saying that. If one day my niece tells me she wants to pack up and move to New York for college or whatever it may be. I’ll support her, and I’ll do everything in my power to make sure she’s set up for success. But I’ll also make her read this essay. Study the pain in the words. People warned me it would be hard, and I probably arrogantly shrugged off their concerns in pure blissful ignorance, but you truly do not know what something is like until you try it. And I’m glad I did. If my niece one day wants to try it she’ll probably blissfully and cluelessly shrug off my warnings, but I’ll be there to boost her in support of those dreams. Not many people where I’m from end up doing what they dream to do. I say that often and I mean it. I don’t take it lightly. We have to work 100 times harder than the average person to achieve the same, but something we have going for many of us is hunger. Hunger for more than we were told we deserved. I’ll never settle until I’m full. (Regardless of the city I reside in).






Tuesday, December 10, 2019

Lessons Learned.


2019. This year's end is approaching, very fast. When I started this year I would never of imagined I would end up here where I am. Sitting in a minimally furnished studio apartment on the Upper Westside of Manhattan with the dimming sounds of sirens and horns in the background. I am truly a different woman now than I was at the new year. For better or for worse. When I moved I thought I would be inspired constantly to write and create. Truthfully, I've felt like an unstable garment beginning to unravel at the slightest pull. Despite my inside fragility, I try to present a together, collected front and try to make sense of all the nonsense. So for what's it's worth, here's a list of 19 things I've learned this year. 

1.) Challenge yourself to do things that scare you once in a while. 

2.) No matter what anyone thinks, do what is best for you. Others will try to make you consider "other people" when making major decisions. That's all great and I generally try always be considerate but at the end of the day no one, and I mean no one, will have to clean your messes but yourself. Do what's best for you. You don't owe anyone anything.

3.) Call your mom. Three times a day if needed. She is your best friend, whether you realize it or not. ( Or mother figure) 

4.) Sometimes when a suitor seeks you out after doing you wrong, they are only trying to see if they can disrespect you again. 

5.) A follow up to #4. It's not a compliment when someone tries to cross the boundaries you made clear to them. Don't confuse this for "effort" or "affection".

6.) Learn to say no. ( I'm saying this louder for the people in the back) For the love of God, learn to say No

7.) Generally people mean well. People will disappoint you. People you love, trust, and confide in will disappoint you. This doesn't mean they don't love you, it means they likely have their own life happening and they don't always see past themselves, ( as we all do at times). Try not to take this personally. 

8.) Ask for help. I would not of survived this year if I didn't ask for help. I truly wouldn't, and I'm grateful I did. It strengthen friendships and made me stronger and view different perspectives I hadn't considered before. 

9.) Ask for what you want. You will not get what you need unless you ask. Whether that's more money or a day off, no one can read your mind. Ask. 

10.) Express your love. Often someone comes to my mind and I feel compelled to reach out and tell them. I do it as often as possible. Whether they reciprocate or not I expressed my love and that's never wrong. You never know when someone can be taken from you, and you don't want to regret not making more of an effort. 

11.) Stop feeling bad for everything. Stop feeling like you're taking up space. You're not. In fact, take up that space. Fill it up!

12.)  You don't owe anyone an explanation. If you're anything like me, you've thought things over a million times. Trust me, you thought this through. 

13.) Always apply hand sanitizer before and after riding the subway. Just take my word on this one. 

14.) If it saves you time, stress, or effort then spend the little extra money. You'll thank yourself later. 

15.) Your weekend plans don't have to impress anyone. If you want to stay home and watch reality TV all weekend, then by all means pop the popcorn and pass the wine!

16.) Always have a cushion. This could be a savings account, a friend, or a literal cushion. Sometimes you need to know you have something to fall back on. Literally and figuratively. 

17.) Just tell the truth. Be honest with people. Generally it's received well. 

18.) Take every opportunity to learn something new. If there are free courses offered at work, take them. A free work out in your apartment complex, try it. 

19.) Above all, family is first. Hug those you love, and hug them tight. 

Take my lessons for what they're worth. Anyone want to share something they've learned this year?

Sunday, September 29, 2019

NYTimes Reject : Toothaches & Heartaches


Toothaches and Heartaches

By: Natalie Nichole Butcher


I wrote this piece shortly after my break up this year. With the upcoming release of "Modern Love" on Amazon Prime, to which I'm anxiously awaiting, I figured I'd share a piece with you I submitted for the column it's based on. I submitted this essay to the Modern Love column proudly and almost in an act of passing on my pain. Sadly, it was not chosen but that doesn't mean I can't share it with you. I hope you enjoy.

Recently, I had my wisdom teeth extracted. The anxiety was boiling under the surface anticipating the pain I would endure however, enduring everyone's awful stories of their own experiences was also quite painful. I made the arrangements two weeks prior to the procedure. Two weeks prior, I was in a relationship with someone navigating our future towards careers and living arrangements and all that adult relationships entail after approaching a 3-year mark. Marriage was a discussion we had on and off throughout our relationship and I took comfort in the security of knowing I had someone to depend on. It was agreed that my partner would pick me up from the dentist and would care for me while I recovered at home. The surgery date came and went, and I was no longer in that relationship and it felt like everything had shifted, teeth included. My loving parents drove up from 3 hours away, the morning of to drive me to the procedure and care for me after. I was nervous, but I'd argue my dad was far more nervous than I was. He insisted on meeting the surgeon and as they asked when my last menstrual cycle occurred, he quickly excused himself. While the surgeon's assistant put in the IV, I imagined I was on a terrible first date the kind where you're really reaching for commonality. "What do you do?" he asked, "And what do you do for fun?", "Oh, I love movies too". God, help me I thought. Then I slowly drifted to sleep. I woke up to an array of colors and Brain Damage from the Dark Side of the Moon album playing in the background. Pink came in and turned into orange, which then turned into yellow, like a kaleidoscope dream. I must have been tripping, but it felt so real. I recall thinking, this was an excellent way to really mess with a patient who is under the influence. Then someone's voice started to creep through the blasting music asking me if I was in pain and if I was okay. I couldn't answer because someone's hands were in my mouth stuffing it with gauze, so instead, I grunted. The next thing I remember was my father helping me into the car and my head feeling like a ton of bricks that my neck couldn't possibly support. We got home, and my father helped me into the elevator as I struggled to walk a straight line to my apartment. I thought to myself, this is what unconditional love is. I felt it so deeply, it immediately made me want to cry. My mom laid me in bed as I grew more and more uncomfortable with the gauze in my mouth. I felt like gagging, she asked me to be patient and to wait 30 minutes before I could take it out per doctor's instructions. About 30 minutes on the dot, we went to the bathroom to take it out. I pulled the blood-soaked gauze from my mouth as my mom looked on in discomfort, and then I broke down crying. I imagine, my mom thought I was being a tad dramatic and told me to sit down and not to get too upset. I wasn't crying because of the blood, I was crying because in that moment I felt so alone and like a failure. My relationship had dissolved into nothing, and it was killing me. I was sitting in my bathroom, in my apartment without the person I thought, I would spend the rest of my life with and instead I was crying with some blood-soaked gauze in my hands and my concerned mother looking on. I rinsed my mouth out and the blood became less and less apparent. I thought, eventually this is what will happen with my heartache. In this moment, it feels like a rush of blood gushing out of me with no end in sight. Scary and jarring and leaving a bad taste in my mouth. However, it does end, and things go on as they should.

When I told people about getting my wisdom teeth extracted, I heard all kinds of stories and advice. It felt as if the person wanted to "out do"the last story and shock me with their experience. Heartache also seems to elicit a similar response. Suddenly, everyone begins to share their stories of heartache and trials in relationships and marriages. You begin to realize that even the strongest bonds, are not exempt from their troubles. It also seems to bring out the best in people. My parents are the most selfless, loving people and dropped everything to help me; reminding me that time heals all wounds. My girlfriends immediately leaped to my side, offering comfort and sharing their times of heartache. They would tell me to take my time and to not feel bad for feeling so sad. It reminded me that I have so many people in my life that are so caring and truly love me. Why does it take hard times to remind us of that? For the next few days, I continued with my daily life, went back to work, visited with friends. Ate nothing but Jell-O and Sopita. All I could think of was solid food, literally dreaming of it. How amazing chips and queso sounded, gorging myself with spicy beef and zesty jalapenos dripping with golden cheese sauce. The taste of a juicy cheeseburger and fries with an ice cold coke. I yearned for solid food, yet I could not eat it. It would bring more pain, if I ate it, it would delay my healing, if not make it worse and even longer. Simultaneously, I wanted my emotional pain to end as well. I wanted to turn to him, or even someone else just to fill the void I felt. Yet, if I did it would only make the pain more unbearable and delay my healing further. So instead, I slowly moved to smoothies, then yogurt, then a grilled cheese. I'm still not eating chips and queso nor have I had a juicy cheeseburger, but I know it's within reach. I haven't been as strict with my emotional health to be truthful. I immediately turned to dating apps, thinking that stranger's compliments would make me feel less empty. The high of a simple compliment to your looks fade faster than the high of my Tylenol with codeine, and that's just a fact. I even went on a few dates with some nice people. Some nicer than others. All of those dates asked, "When was your last relationship?" Was my heartache written all over my face, I thought? I would uncomfortably decline to answer and when I felt brave enough to answer it seemed to get the response that it probably warranted. After the dates, I would come home to that empty apartment and felt just as empty inside. I honestly took for granted to the feeling of knowing someone was just a call away, knowing that someone was there. That security is like a bed to fall into after an awful day. My friends' joke that losing my wisdom teeth, meant losing my wisdom and I'm starting to think maybe they are not wrong. In my right mind, I knew that I was not ready to date yet I immediately went out there facing the harsh reality that dating today is the equivalent of shopping today. You search for the "perfect item" and the moment you find a flaw you begin searching again for something better. Someone in my current condition is too fragile for modern dating. I was exhausted from parading all my hobbies, when I wanted to say, I work all day and come home and watch my favorite Bravo shows. Those are my hobbies. How's that for relatable? In moments of calm, I'd run my tongue against my teeth and it felt different. I felt like teeth were missing and maybe even chipped. In the same heartbeats, I'd realize I had no one texting me to see how my day went or to ask me how my big meeting turned out. It is all raw right now, the reality setting in that this is how things are at this time. Trying to comfort myself, convincing myself that they will not always be this way. The truth is that all I'm looking forward to is the day I can brush my teeth without thinking about it. When I can open my mouth wide enough to let a laugh escape, and it is genuine and full of promise. I can't wait for the day I can wake up without that pit in my stomach and not have to think about it. When a week can pass me by and I don't feel like crying anymore and I can face the harsh dating world with the strength to know that I am worthy of receiving the love I deserve. I know these feelings are there within reach. In the meantime, I will wait.



P.S. everyone should read the column if you're not familiar. They are reader submitted essays about love, heartbreak and the hilarious and devastating in-betweens. 

Thursday, July 4, 2019

New Me, New York. Who Dis?



A couple months ago, I was given the opportunity to relocate for work, in none other than New York City. Since I was a child, I would watch movies and television centered in New York. The people were free, wild creatives that fed off what the city could give them. I took these messages in and thought that it was the place I was meant to be. All the people I adored and respected from movies, to music and TV, loved and lived in New York, so naturally I had to, too. I'm 28 and college came and went and no jobs or internships were calling despite all my applications so I thought my chance had slipped me by. I made peace with it, then this came a long. It was an possibility to further my career and have new experiences. All of this coming right after a break up that shook me to my core, it seemed like perfect timing but not without it's challenges. I think the universe wanted to test how bad I really wanted this. Post negotiations, I was left to figure out how to move my entire life across the country. People who know me well know I am a planner, to a fault and this process was anything but smooth. I had to figure out how to make sure my previous boss and my current boss were comfortable and prepared for all the changes. I had to leave my old apartment ( and everything in it ) and find a new one. I had to see everyone I love and care about, at least once more before I left. People don't think of the tiny little details that you have to consider. When I land from the airport, where do I go to find an uber or taxi. When I finally get to my apartment what am I going to sleep on? How will I get what I'm going to sleep on, to my apartment? Okay, now you got a bed now you need a blanket and an AC, and pillows. After I started putting these things into place, I found out that I had another cyst. Another freaking cyst, on the opposite side. Not only was this another thing I had to plan but also another added expense I didn't need. I immediately had to take the steps to have another excision surgery. I have no more Bartholin's Glands. ( Take that Bartholin, who ever you are, you cruel bastard). I also had to consider taking care of my body while making this incredibly exciting but extremely stressful move. Rest, while working from home in pain but pretending everything is fine. While all of this was going on, I was reminded of the amazing support system I have in my family and friends. People showing up for me in so many ways, was humbling. From coworker's encouragement, to tearful goodbyes with families, this time has so emotionally taxing but in the most beautiful way. Today, I'm writing this from new studio apartment in New York City, with nothing but a bed, a TV and my thoughts. It's difficult being faced with loneliness and fear. There have been days so far where I definitely have not left my apartment. However, everyday gets a little better, every day I remind myself that I am my Magrande's wildest dream and it's a responsibility I take seriously. I am a girl from a small border town, where some people stay their entire lives and aren't granted with such opportunities and I never not think about that. I never not think about my humble beginnings. The little girl who would walk to the corner store to buy pickles with my cousins. The little girl who thought Chili's was fancy. I think about my niece and nephew and pray that they will think of their Tia and be proud and inspired and never feel abandoned by me. I also think about how when I moved to Houston when I was 15 and knew no one and how difficult it was to acclimate and make new friends. Then again, when I moved to Austin. The only constant thing in life is change, but in my case the other constant thing I have is the support of my loved ones. I have to do this for them. When things get hard here, I have to keep pushing as I always have, as my Mother has taught me. To hold me head up, and be strong. To give them hell.

As always, Thank you for reading...

Sunday, April 14, 2019

UN-Dateable: Vol. 3


I am single. I am no longer in the committed, loving relationship I was in for almost 3 years. In respect to my ex-partner this post is not about the dissolution of that relationship. This is about the aftermath, the process many of us women go through after heartbreak. To be clear, we ended things mutually and on good terms...as good as any ending can be. I truly thought this was the last relationship I was going to be in. To say breaking the habits of a 3 year partnership was difficult, is a vast understatement. In the beginning, it was trying to not pick up the phone a call his number. It was the weekends not filled with our plans. The future, not composed of our intentions. All of that was over, and that was hard to get used to. I'll be the first to admit I've got some severe abandonment issues. My defense mechanism is usually not to let anyone too close. If they're not "in" then I won't be disappointed when they leave. If this experience has taught me anything, it is that my biggest fear happened, and yet, I survived. I continued on. Some days, tearfully but I nonetheless, faced my days the best I could. After that phase, it was telling the people around me. From my friends and family, to my hairdresser. You take for granted the people who wish you well, even from afar. Friends truly showed me the meaning of real sisterhood. Showing up with wine and flowers, letting me cry on their shoulders. Cooking me dinner and making me laugh for the first time in days, reminding me how well they truly knew me. These girls texted or messaged me every single day and listened to every self indulgent thought that came across my mind. It was beautiful and selfless of all of them. I've got a great group of women supporting me. Then my parents, my heroes. Came to my aid, immediately when I got my wisdom teeth out and didn't have anyone to pick me up and care for me. Took me on a sorrowful Valentine's day dinner, a really hard day for me after all this. They continue to embody the meaning of unconditional love. Without them, I would be nothing. Without my mother, I'd crumble and that's a fact. After that phase, I started to push myself to get out in the dating world. It was probably way too soon, but I felt that I had to get it over with or something. I was thoroughly annoyed with myself crying all the damn time. I did not want to be at home crying every night. So instead, I downloaded dating apps and got out there. I cringed at the constant parade of shirtless pics. The guys' profiles all begin to look the same. *"Let's get drinks!" "Not looking for anything serious" "Let's see where this goes!"* Here's the game ladies, take a shot every time you see these lines on a tinder profile. Okay, don't. You'd die and I don't want that on my conscience. 
Dating today is different, even so than from 3 years ago. Remember when we used to declare a man a "jerk" when they wouldn't call a woman back after a date? Or how a one night stand was so scandalous, people would often ask it in a game of never have I ever? Well, now everyone is Joey Tribbiani. We all ghost someone after an awkward date, or truthfully even a good one. We disappear because we don't want to face the truth that we're all out here not knowing what the heck we're doing. None of us know what we're really looking for. Either too badly bruised from our last relationships or too busy searching for the "better fit". Even when you have a great time with someone, you tend to start to find the flaws and bail. I've gone on more dates than I've ever gone on before. All kinds of men, that aren't typically "my type". I entertain my friends with the stories of my escapades with them and probably shock them with my carelessness about the situations at hand. And while my behavior is not my typical behavior or normal for me, I feel more like myself at this moment than I have in a very long time. Through this process I've reached a new level of confidence. Something that has nothing really to do with my physical appearance, but more to do with the fact that I am getting closer and closer to not giving a f what anyone thinks. I spent so much time in the past worrying about people's perceptions of me. Men's perceptions of me and what that meant. On one date I was faced with the fact that we had absolutely nothing in common. I listed off my disinterest in things like beer, sports, action movies, and camping. The date asked me if I was sure I was attracted to men. He could not fathom that because my interests were mostly feminine and the media I consumed was female-centric, I could not possibly be attracted to men. I laughed it off, and I know he meant it jokingly but it got me to thinking. Why should I or any other woman apologize for what they truly love or are interested in? I love movies about women who are strong, funny and powerful. I love art that is inspiring to me. Music by angry female artists with lots to say. I love to drink wine while listening to Wes Montgomery. And if you're looking for me to apologize for this, then you should probably find a hobby that keeps you busy, because that will not happen. I'd rather be alone than pretend to be someone I'm not. I've been loved before and I'll be loved again, for exactly who I am. This constantly evolving, artistic, strong willed woman I am and I am becoming. 

Thanks for reading...

Sunday, October 21, 2018

Excision of Bartholin's Gland : One Year Later


It feels a bit self indulgent to talk about what happened a year ago, but when women continue to find me on Instagram and ask me questions about my surgery, I feel it necessary to talk about. One year later and I've been able to accomplish a lot. The most important thing, NO MORE CYSTS or ABSCESSES. When I was suffering I also searched the web for anything. Any glimpse of hope or break from chronic pain and the unknown and let me tell you there's not much. I even remember reading articles about the surgery I had saying that it didn't work for women and fearing that there was not going to be change in what I had been going through. My doctor assured me it could NEVER happen, at least on that side. However, now I know even if I get a Bartholin's cyst on the right side, I'll immediately remove the other gland and move on. 
So, let get down to the things that no one talks about or tells you. 1. Costs. Of course the costs of many doctor's visits, ER visits, and surgeries add up. In the beginning when I started getting the Bartholin's cysts I had excellent insurance. I rarely paid a dime out of pocket. Then when I got a new job, the bills started to add up. Keep in mind I had 6-7 cysts in the span of 9 months. Doctor visits, then follow up visits, then surgeries they all have costs. Ultimately, in total I probably spent over $4000. Mind you I'm lucky, because I have a job and insurance but I do feel it is important to talk about because I feel like women suffering deserve to know. What I spent to me felt like a small fortune at the time, but I did it on my own and there's a sense of pride I feel in that. 
Secondly, the recovery and healing. After all the surgeries comes the healing. Down time and rest. I remember on the days after my mom left and my boyfriend had to return to his routine, I felt so lonely and incredibly bored. This time last year I was off from work for 2 weeks, in some slight pain but hopeful about my future. A year ago, I didn't know I would be visiting 4 new cities, I've never seen. I didn't know that I get a promotion at work, but in a year a lot can happen. A lot of positive things I made happen with hard work. On the other side, in my healing and focus on getting better, I've felt isolated and incredibly inactive. My friendships have changed and I feel as though I've grown distant with some people I thought, I never would. I also have, by my own fault, have not been exercising and have gained weight since last year. To be completely honest, in addition to the health journey I had another trauma happen last year around the time that all this started with that I'm not quite ready to talk about. Very few people know, but it's affected me tremendously. I am working so hard on  myself and growing in so many ways but truthfully, I feel as if I'm failing. I have changed, I am struggling and feel as though the trauma has contributed to my feelings of isolation and being lethargic. I'm planning on seeking help, and working on these things. All I can say is that I am a work in progress. 
Lastly, all I can say is when I write these kind of personal posts, I think to myself : No one cares, no one wants to know about your minor little surgeries and your personal little feelings. Then I have women I've never met reach out to me via email or on Instagram telling me about the immense pain they're in with their Bartholin's cysts, and how no one they know has gone through this. Then I think, if they stumbled upon this blog post and at the very least they don't feel alone, well then it feels worth it. I think of the other women who may stumble upon this blog and also experienced a sort of trauma and on some level can relate and not feel like a leper of society then I would feel like my writing isn't totally in vain. For the others that read this to support me, I just want to say I truly appreciate your interest. I know this started as a fashion blog. All the pretty pictures and outfits, but in a time where women are voicing their minds in a way like never before I want to use this tiny, platform and therapeutically voice mine. Today I went on a hike to clear my mind and get outside. I thought about where I was a year ago, about the times where getting in and out of my car was a difficult task and bathing was impossible and going to the bathroom (sorry) was excruciating. Then here I am hiking, working up a sweat, taking in the clean crisp autumn air and I feel alive. 

I hope that all of you, whatever you are experiencing right now, can feel that I am here for you. I mean that wholeheartedly. I seek connections, not vapid small talk, real deep friendships with people and if we can bond in some small way over our hardships, even if you feel they are minor or too major to understand, I am here and I will listen. 

xoxo, thank you for reading. 

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