I hate October

Sep 30, 2014
Oh, there are things that I LIKE about October.  I love the leaves changing, Halloween, and R3's birthday.  I hate October because it is Breast Cancer Awareness month.  Sounds crazy, no?

It probably makes sense to a handful of you.  That handful who lost their mothers, like I did, to breast cancer.  I am reminded every day that I don't have my mother with me, but in October it seems like the world is conspiring to remind me why.

All my favorite gossip magazines, a lot of Facebook feeds turning pink, it is everywhere.  I feel like an open wound for a month.  It seems silly to even say that I can't bear to read People magazine, and watch another program about Sheryl Crow or Christina Applegate.  I mean, I am so happy for them that they survived, but I survive the loss every day. Not only of my mom, but of one of the most amazing women I have ever met.  Her name was Sara Jones.  She was...

My mom was a diva, she loved fur and anything that sparkled.  She was irrational, smart, and a warrior for the people that she loved.  She was unforgiving and so welcoming to anyone in need.  I used to say that she took in strays, people without a place to go, or who needed to get back on their feet.  My whole life, she would take in those who needed her.  I think she needed them too.  Some of my best friends today were those strays.  A skinny Indian kid who couldn't go home to India on Thanksgiving, a woman who was in the midst of a divorce, my pseudo sister who is my superstar.  I was her only child but she left me with this motley crew of a family that take care of me no matter what.  She was beautiful, a pain in my ass and I wish that she had taken better care of herself.  I wish she had been more proactive about her health.  We lost her two days after her 50th birthday.  She was too young.

As a result I have a love/hate relationship with my breasts.  I love that they have nourished my three babies, but they bring me untold anxiety.  I am gripped with a sudden panic almost every time I feel them, and as you know, nursing breasts are always changing.  I have been in for ultrasound after ultrasound.  I have tested negative for the BRAC-A gene.  It doesn't matter to my heart.  The anxiety has gotten so bad that I avoid touching them.  I know logically that that is the absolute wrong way to behave, but the fear is so real I can almost taste it.  That isn't even just in October, it's every day.  

F you October, I remember every day.  Come on November.  I like November better.

My mom, Dorothy


 photo christy signature_zps2nonppq0.png

STANDARD FTC DISCLOSURE: In order for me to support my blogging activities, I may receive monetary compensation or other types of remuneration for my endorsement, recommendation, testimonial and/or link to any products or services from this blog. Please note that I only endorse products that are in alignment with Stained with Style's ideals and that I believe would be of value to my readers. Stained with Style is a participant in the Amazon Services LLC Associates Program, an affiliate advertising program designed to provide a means for sites to earn advertising fees by advertising and linking to Amazon.com

more great stuff

Powered by Blogger.
Back to Top