I am still so unbelievably happy with my surgery results. Other than some stubborn swelling, which I understand will go down eventually and is totally normal, everything is going really well with recovery. I am still not to lift anything over 10 lbs and I need to be careful with how much I extend my arms because it feels tight on the incisions. On December 26th, all restrictions will be lifted and I can get back to normal life and also my new workout plan that I am still envisioning. I have access to a lot of great things at home, like a Peloton bike and workout programs. Plus a walking treadmill. Every time I look down at my chest, I am so excited for the future. I am not even sure what exactly I am excited for, but I feel so much excitement about all the things to come.
Inevitably that leads me to think about the past and how the last 35ish years have just rolled up into this weird, immeasurable time period now. It feels like I have jumped from 11 to full adult, with all that trauma and sadness behind me. When I look backwards, I have to think about actual things that hurt me and not just this world of pain that I was living in that entire time. What a strange realization. That my deep sadness and depression really was the result of a body that just felt so foreign. I wish there was a way to put how I feel into words so that people who don’t experience this could understand that the pain is actually worse than any other emotional pain I have felt. It’s like being unseen forever. You exist in this world that feels like you don’t belong in it. Everyone is calling you a name that doesn’t fit and pronouns that make you grit your teeth, as you wonder why you have to endure such a horrible cruel joke.
Little Zander is on the outside now, and not just inside, begging me to make the changes he so desperately needs to be happy. Little Zander looks down and sees what should have always been there, and doesn’t even remember what was and did not belong there. Little Zander is happy. I am happy because the adult that I have been and the adult who has healed all of these wounds has done the very thing Little Zander needed to be able to drop into my physical body and not exist in the tiny, darkened corner of my brain. At this point, the changes on the outside make life good, not just bearable. Words have come out of my mouth like “I love myself, I love my body, I love who I am.” These are not words that ever existed in my vocabulary before. It’s just what spills out now, even as I continue to heal from the crazy rash and my skin protests the final dressings I need to continue with for just a little longer. These will pass soon.
But with these changes, I am no longer avoiding mirrors. I look down and then I look into the mirror. I smile and I notice so much that I never saw before. I see a sparkle in my eyes and the sadness that has haunted me for these 36ish years is gone. I am happy for real and even I can see it. Tuesday will make three weeks since the surgery and it feels like I have crammed a lifetime full of happiness into these three weeks. I knew that this surgery was going to be awesome for me, but I really never expected that it could undo decades of sadness and a feeling that nothing would ever get better for me. Even though I would have bursts of sincere happiness, there was still a sadness in my eyes that I could see the rare times I looked in the mirror. A burden I was carrying that I resented and wished I could relieve myself of. I never knew that this was the key to finding happiness. I am so grateful that my life led me here, where I would be able to find the one thing I needed to be happy and confident in myself. I don’t think I will ever stop being grateful for the surgeon’s skill, the means to pay for the surgery, the kindness of all the nursing and support staff that went into this, and most of all, my wife’s support. Without her, none of this would’ve been possible. I never would’ve been able to follow this all the way through without her. She is my rock.
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