Healing Journey ~ En Bloc Implant Removal

As I sit here working on being vulnerable by asking for help, I’m pondering at what age did I learn to put myself last. Honestly, I don’t even know, except that it was at a young age. Learning to let go of what I was taught and opening myself up these past few years has helped me heal and grow tremendously.

During my healing journey I often would question myself and wonder if I am oversharing on social media. To which, I have been reminded recently as to why I have been so honest: someone recently reached out and shared a similar experience they were growing through and asked for advice on where to start. If being too honest helps not only myself but one other person in finding their inner light, I am going to share.

Today I am going to share something that I have been struggling to come to terms with and forgive myself for. I have been in such a low place for most of my life. In 1996, at age 11, something was taken from me that I could never get back. I instantly became ashamed of my body and wanted to hide it. I wore baggy clothes, became more of a “prude” (as most would call me) and felt so uncomfortable in my own skin that nothing I did made me feel at ease.

By the time I got to high school, the pressure of burying that pain became too much for me. When I would go to parties, I would numb out by drinking and/or smoking. That lead me in a path of a few boys that could not control their urges. Which reopened my trauma. I was shamed and teased by these boys and in return made me hate myself and my body even more.

The alcohol and smoking were no longer able to distract my intense emotions from the pain I was hiding from everyone. Then one day I found a blade. Everything that appeared to be so out of control, became hyper focused. For the first time, or so I thought, I was focused and “in power” of myself. Only I could control how far I would take it. Each time taking it just a bit further. I longed for someone to notice and stop me. It never happened.

After graduation, this new addiction had slowed down. For a few years I was able to control my impulses of running and locking myself in my room to do this.

At 21, my world collapsed when I got a call saying my mom was in the hospital and I needed to get there immediately. After all morning of arguing with her, we never got to make up like we always did before. I never got to say goodbye and that I loved her. I carried her death like I was responsible for it. The amount of grief and guilt I put on myself buried me into the lowest and darkest 15 years of my life.   

For the first few years after her passing, I was lost. I was looking to be accepted and loved unconditionally. The kind only a mother knew how, but I could no longer get. I yearned to be accepted by others, which made all my previous addictions of numbing out more intense. Hating myself even more, which didn’t seem possible, I looked at every outside source to make me feel better.

At one point, I thought changing my body and appearance would do the trick. I believed that if I enhanced my breasts, that would make me feel more confident and in return be accepted by others. Here I was, this 24-year-old girl going into the surgeon’s office asking to get my body professionally altered. All to be liked… when I didn’t even like myself!

The appointment was too easy: discussing size, date of surgery and cost. The doctor brushed it off when I asked about side-effects and laughed as he said that anything I have heard is not accurate. And I believed him as he was the doctor.

Immediately after the surgery, my body rejected the implants. I had immediate capsular contraction on my left side. The immense pressure and pain I felt finally eased when it ruptured 4 years later. Resulting in another surgery to “fix” it. Again, my body said no. The capsular contraction, pain and pressure came back, and so did deformity, complete muscular contraction on the left side of my back, upper back, and neck. I now have a slight curve in my spine from the muscle tension. I was defeated, thinking this was how I was supposed to live the rest of my life.

During lockdown I was forced to face the traumas I tried so hard to bury. I began doing the work to start really healing myself. Mind, body, and soul. At times the shadows were unbearable, and I almost gave up. Luckily, I have a few angels that told me to keep going. I knew that I could no longer live the way I had been because I wasn’t truly living, I was running. Well, I am not running anymore.  

After 14 years of pain, discomfort, and lower self-confidence than prior to my surgery, even though society said it was supposed to raise that. I am finally listening to MY body and removing the foreign objects that are not serving my highest self.

Body altering surgery or outside sources were never the solution for the lack of self-love. Only I could resolve and heal that. Having this surgery and starting to heal my body is one more step in my journey of unconditional love and self-care.