Fun House Mirror

Perception is all we have, I've heard that, been told that and really believe that. Nonetheless, not many of us are aware of the perceptions that guide our lives. All the communications that I have received from my community have been amazing. I wish I could find a way to share them all. I imagine a room stuffed with bubbles filled with sayings, notes, emotions and love. These bubbles float around, viewable from all sides. Some brush aside, bump or are blown into others. Sometimes they pop. The action of the pop is in slow motion, particles of water and air make the bubble bigger than it was a split second prior. The walls of the bubble and the contents splash into my face. I blink as I work through the shock and beauty of the popping bubble with all it's smells, colors and contents. In that instant perception alters.

 "You can do this"
"You are the strongest mutha fucker I know"
"You have always amazed me with your strength"
"You are such a badass"
"You have always been sexy and strong and that isn't changing now"

Each comment speaking of strength, beauty, inspiration, and love. Not their own but mine.

If you would have asked me before this experience if I was strong I'm not sure you would have gotten a definite answer. Do I relate to myself as strong, no, but I do have strength and I am NOT weak. While in Sedona this Fall I got a new tattoo (Jan's Funky Tattoo Shop). It's of a tree on my right shoulder. I wanted a tree with defined bark and a splash of color. When the tattoo artist and I spoke we discussed the tattoo being a strong desert tree. I don't know where that came from but that is what I told her. That was the best description that I could muster. I had no idea just how strong that tree would come to be.

When I was in my first surgery the nurses and anesthesiologist inquired about the tattoo, as they nonchalantly removed my gown, tied me to the table and proceeded with their job. As the happy drugs hit my system my answer then when asked what kind of tree, was simply "a strong desert tree". I've been asked if it was a tree of life and still my only response was nope its just a strong desert tree. As I write this I pull from the comments of others and my tree to give me strength as my perception slowly shifts to relating to myself as strong evan as I feel weak.

Last night we has a small fashion show. Three days post surgery with hair a mess, but clean, JP drains hanging from their pinned place of safety on my scrub pants, lats/ribs padded a few inches out to protect the drain insertion sites and chest bare with steri strips hiding the incisions. We all pack into our brightly lit bathroom. I am carefully wrangled into cute tops purchased just for my bodashious chest. The job isn't easy as it takes two people just to get me into a top not to mention back out of it again. I watch the process in the mirror between fluffing, moving and being directed what to do.

 I can see myself in the mirror but my mind stalls, sputters and spits. No tears at this point just dismay. My mind works to focus but all I can see is a head floating above a Pink top. It's like those circus mirrors that distort your form into a laughable object. Nothing laughable as I process the image and shift my perspective toward being a strong tree.