Forever Beloved

Faith, Love & Truth

NATIONAL NO BRA DAY {AND WHY I HATE IT}

This is a day that I dread, one that makes me cringe.  A day where I try my very best to stay away from all social media.  As many of you know, October is Breast Cancer Awareness Month.  And October 13 has been deemed national No Bra Day or Free the TaTas.

I am the daughter of a woman who not only fought breast cancer but won that fight. Not only one fight, but multiple times. Her fight spanned across many years, each one being tough in it’s own way.  From 1981 through 1989 she battled and fought.  And throughout it all, she only asked God for one thing…to allow her to live long enough to raise her daughter.

From her perspective, those years had to be frightening.  The first surgery she had in 1981, she nearly lost her life.  The cancer was more advanced than they first anticipated, and a partial mastectomy had to be performed.  The next battle resulted in a complete mastectomy.  And the last battle included chemo and radiation.

When she first found out she had cancer, I was only six years old.  I can remember playing with the neighbor kids and waving to her as my Grandpa took her to the hospital for her first surgery.  I can remember hearing whispers of her condition when I was around.  I can remember crying, because I just wanted my Mama home.  I can remember the look on her face the first time she showed me her changed body riddled with staples.  I can remember the nights she spent sick from chemo and radiation.  The days her stomach would only allow her to eat rice.  And the morning I found her passed out on the floor because her white blood cell count had dropped.

The intent of this post isn’t to gain sympathy, but rather to give you a glimpse of what the reality of breast cancer is.

Her and I have had many, many discussions about ‪No ‬Bra Day and Free the Tatas. And to a breast cancer survivor, to a woman who fought to live so she could raise her daughter, to a woman that spent many days sick from radiation and chemo, these campaigns are completely offensive.

[ctt template=”8″ link=”5jt1Z” via=”yes” ]National No Bra Day is not only offensive to a survivor but also trivializing, belittling, insulting and demeaning to the pain and suffering they’ve endured.[/ctt]

This is a great post from a survivor and I think sums up most of their thoughts on this:

The thought of seeing bra-less women flaunting two body parts that I have lost to cancer — more than I already see this on a regular day — does not feel all that supportive.  In fact, it feels quite the opposite

And as my Mama said:

It’s as much as them saying “Look, I have them and you don’t.”

I don’t understand how a day where women are encouraged to share photos of their braless breasts is to be “supportive” for women who are living with or who have died from breast cancer, or who have managed to ‘complete’ the arduous treatments and disfiguring surgeries required to put them into remission.

Answer this question: What does taking that bra off do? Does it bring research, awareness or education?

National No Bra Day was started in July of 2011 by Anastasia M. Doughnuts.  It was started through a Facebook event page and had 400,000 supporters.  It was so successful that it was repeated the following July.  Then someone had the bright idea to have a second No Bra Day annually on October 13th to piggyback on Breast Cancer Awareness Month.  The event page on Facebook for No Bra Day is quite clear in that the occasion is meant to celebrate breasts.  It doesn’t even mention breast cancer until the very last paragraph by stating “Breast Cancer is something you should take seriously and be checked for”.

This day, which many buy into, is nothing more than sexualizing breast cancer.  It’s sexualized by the slang used such as “Save 2nd base”, “Feel your boobies” and “Save the ta-tas”.  It’s sexualized by the provocative imagery used to raise funds and visibility.  It’s sexualized in the names of organizations created to promote breast cancer awareness, such as Coppafeel and Boobstagram.  It’s sexualized by social media users who use the campaign as a guise to post pictures of themselves topless with no intention of promoting breast cancer awareness or donating to research charities.  We’ve sexualized breast cancer so much that a popular porn site has even decided to cash in on it, donating a penny to charity for every 30 “boob-themed videos” watched.

And that, my friends, is sad.

Breast cancer isn’t sexy, it’s devastating.

It’s not only devastating but often times is also disfiguring.  Many women suffer with body image issues after breast cancer.  Ann Marie Giannino-Otis, who runs the blog Stupid Dumb Breast Cancer, said

“My breasts don’t even look anything like what they used to. They’re completely different. We look in the mirror after breast cancer: Our nipples are gone; we have scars that go across our chests; we have either gained a lot of weight or lost weight. We’ve changed completely. We’re not accepting of this body, and now you’re telling us to take off a bra?” she said. “What breast cancer is is taking off our breasts, having a lumpectomy, making them completely unerotic. So you’re sexualizing something that’s not sexy. It’s disgusting.“

Cancer patients don’t have time for cuteness when it comes to the potentially fatal disease they’re faced with.  They do, on the other hand, have an appreciation for realism and action.  Ask a real survivor what you can do to promote breast cancer awareness or how you can honor her fight.  Their answers would include get a mammogram, run a race, donate to the Susan G. Komen Foundation or simply be there for someone fighting a battle.  Taking your bra off isn’t the answer.

National No Bra Day is all about the breasts, not the women attached to them.

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The Worst Breakup

Ironically enough, I woke up that morning feeling brave.

I was exhausted and sick, not knowing why my body was fighting against me.  But amidst the chaotic day of returning doctors phone calls and pouring over test results, a passion stirred in my heart at the thought of being brave and telling my best friend how much I missed her.

I had thought of sending her flowers with a cute note, or writing her a letter that expressed just how very much our friendship had meant to me over the years.  But I settled on the easiest way, sending her a Facebook message expressing my feelings.

I grabbed a cup of coffee and sat at my desk to begin my message.  A smile graced my lips as I thought of all the great times we had together, and I recalled them to her in my message.

As I bravely pushed send, and saw those familiar three bouncing dots pop up, I just knew she was going to return my sweet words with ones of her own.  And we would happily plan our next get together of chatting over coffee.

When the message appeared on my screen, I could feel the tears well up in my eyes.

“Have you thought of getting a job so you aren’t so lonely?”

I blinked my eyes, thinking I had read it wrong.  And re-read it again.

She went on to say how my “neediness” was just a little bit too much for her.

I couldn’t hold the tears back any longer.  My heart was broken.

That was the day our friendship died.

Breakups happen daily, with both sides left to pick up the pieces.  Breakups are gross.  And we can talk through every side until there is not one detail left unsaid.

But you know what we don’t talk about enough?

When friendships break up.

It all fell apart over a three-month period.  I could feel her pulling away.  It didn’t matter how funny or sweet or kind I was, she continually drifted away.  I watched new friends take my spot at her kitchen table, using the coffee cup that had been dubbed mine.  I watched her tag other girls in friendship posts on Facebook, never once mentioning me.

But years of deep friendship ended and the ripping apart felt the way a sheet looks when it is torn in two.  Shredded.  Loud.  Sudden.  Jagged.

Of all the romantic breakups in my life, none have come close to hurting the way a breakup with a best friend hurt. I didn’t know a feeling like that could exist. It was breathtaking, but in an absolutely terrible way.

I experienced that deep-down, soul-altering, barely-can-breathe kind of grief that only comes through a heart-wrenching break up of a friendship.  It cut to the core, once again I was rejected.  It was almost as if I heard her whisper, “You aren’t good enough”.

The breakup with my best friend was one of the hardest, saddest valleys I’ve ever walked through.  The pain was real, and deep.  The tears would come without warning.  The waves of anger and confusion would crash daily.  My heart was shattered and I felt so alone.

And after the dust settled, I didn’t know who to talk with and I didn’t know what to feel and I didn’t know what to call what had just happened.

We each have our person, the one we run to when life gets messy.  But who do you talk to when things are broken with your person?

I was afraid to talk about the breakup with others.  I was afraid of being labeled a gossip or wacky or needy or clingy or overly invested.  And I didn’t want to be judged for being brokenhearted over an ended friendship.  Breakups hurt, whether you were in love with someone or just loved by them.

How do you begin to heal your heart from a breakup that no one else would label a breakup?

The only place I knew to run to without being judged for my feelings, and my heartbreak, was to God.  I ran to Him quickly, and daily.  And in that gap between my heartbreak and His healing, I chose to trust His timing.

Female friendships can be hard.  Amen!

I grew up as an only child.  Because I didn’t have siblings to love on or fight with, I clung to my friendships even tighter.  My friends were my siblings.  I grew up being absolutely devoted to my friends.  Having that mindset makes it even more difficult to lose a friend.

Relationships are important to all of us, whether we admit it or not.  They’re a gift and a responsibility from God.  But how can we build that relationship into a friendship that will last a lifetime?

I have always yearned for what Anne of Green Gables calls a bosom friend.

God created women to crave deep personal relationships, so our friendships are a huge part of who we are.  Chances are, right now you’re either smiling because you’re thinking about your own best friend or you’re feeling sad because you wish you one.  Either way, your heart connects with the idea of friendship.

Friends are the family we choose for our self.  Isn’t that such a great feeling?  Friendships often produce the tightest bonds and greatest loyalties.  We walk through life with our friends.  They help shape our character, cheer us on from the sidelines and silently hug us while we cry.  We meet them at all different seasons of life; some have been with us since we were just wee ones and others we encounter later down the road.  No matter how they’ve entered our life, friendship is a gift from God.

Go in peace, for we have sworn friendship with each other in the name of the LORD, saying, ‘The LORD is witness between you and me, and between your descendants and my descendants forever.  1 Samuel 20:42

How beautiful is that?  I mean, that’s Hallmark movie stuff right there. We have sworn friendship to each other in the name of the Lord. Doesn’t that just make your heart happy?  How many of us crave a friendship like that?  Those true, genuine friendships are one of life’s real blessings!

My breakup happened three years ago.  And though I wish I could tell you I’m over it, there are still days it breaks my heart all over again.  On those days, I lay it once again at my Fathers feet.

But I will tell you this, years later, I realize wholeheartedly it was what was best for me. While I hate that the friendship ended (and it absolutely ended), I don’t regret what came of it.  Once that friendship was stripped away, it revealed in me that it wasn’t healthy.  And Jesus needed a wide path to heal some things in me.

Through my heartache He made beauty from those ashes.

The more I say out loud, “the hardest breakup of my life was with a friend,” the more teary-eyes I see from other women.  More of us have walked through this than you probably know.  You are not alone if your heart is broken over a friendship.  And you should talk about it.

And while I can’t fix it for you, and I can’t take away your heartache, I can tell you this.

Don’t be afraid to call it a breakup.

Don’t be afraid to talk about it.

Run directly to Him.  He wants to hold your broken heart in His hands and with His loving grace, piece it back together.

And somehow, in ways we don’t get, it will be beautiful.

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A Letter to My Husband

To my sweet, sweet man…

Twenty-three years ago today, I became your wife.  Today we celebrate 23 amazing, hard, exhausting, lovely, fun, exasperating, insightful, beautiful, blessed and love filled years I’ve been married to you. Where do I even begin?

At 22 and 20, we were just a couple of kids so madly in love.  We didn’t know a lot back then, but we knew one thing for certain: we belonged together.  And now, over two decades later, I can say with absolute certainty that the past 23 years with you have been the best of my entire life.  When you asked me to marry you, you knew you were getting a broken girl.  Yet you grabbed my hand, looked me in the eye and stepped forward with me.  With you by my side, everything else seemed to melt away.  At that point in my life I needed to feel worthy, loved and protected.  I needed so badly to feel safe, to not feel as if I needed to constantly look over my shoulder and to not be scared anymore.  And with you I have always had that.  You rescued me from all the past pain, struggles and hurt.  With you, I have always felt safe and protected.  While we always joke and say I saved you, in all actuality you saved me.

You also knew you were getting a strong-willed girl, though I’m not sure you knew the extent of it.  I was a woman who had spent her entire life striving to be viewed as strong, independent and not needing a man.  I could change my own oil, put shingles on my house and braze anything that needed it.  I thought I knew it all and needed a man for nothing.  And the thought of being submissive to anyone, let alone my husband, not only scared me but made me angry.  I even suggested having honor and obey taken out of our vows.  But over the past 23 years, as Christ entered our marriage, you’ve lead our home and gently guided me.  You’ve shown me such grace which I am so thankful for.  I now consider it such a joy to be submissive and love watching you lead our family!

Twenty-three years later, and are you still the man of my dreams?  Yes and no.

You aren’t perfect, but you are perfect for me.  You have seen me at my worst yet staid by my side holding my hand.  You understand my hopes and dreams, always supporting them.  And catch me every time I fall.

You make me smile when I’m feeling sad and make me laugh so hard when I’m mad as a hornet.  You remind me that life doesn’t always have to be serious and try and break me out of my “plan everything” shell and teach me to be spontaneous.  You teach me daily the importance of loyalty, forgiveness and selflessness.  You’ve taught me that family doesn’t always mean blood.  And you embody the courage to say I love you even during the moments I can’t.

Thanks to you, I’m a little more fun, a little more vibrant, a little more youthful and a little less worrisome.  At least I try to be.  And despite all the ups and downs of marriage, I know you love me inside and out regardless of my size, for who I am, not for who I appear to be.

Our marriage has gone through loss, countless ups and downs, sickness and health, two babies and a soon to be daughter-in-love, job changes, night-shifts, sleepless nights of sick children, financial strain and ease, differing opinions and enough explosive fights to blow most people’s fights out of the water.  We’ve loved hard and fought even harder.  We fought hard because we were afraid to lose each other in this reality called marriage.  At times we’ve felt betrayed by the stranger who seemed to have replaced each other, and other times we were afraid because our marriage felt like it was sinking.  During these moments we fight not to love, but to pass through the valley together without letting go of each other’s hand.  We can’t lose hope and we can’t give up on each other.  We keep walking and we keep trying.  Sometimes it’s you, sometimes it’s me and sometimes it’s both of us.  But one thing remains certain.

We have a mutual understanding, a silent contract, a promise that binds our two souls.  We both know with God at the center of our marriage anything is possible.  No matter how hard it seems, we don’t give up on each other.

What is hard is life.  But waking up next to you, my best friend, every morning is not hard.  Having someone by my side that has seen me at my weakest and my worst, that looks past the 3rd day of dry shampoo and sweatpants, that knows the good and bad of the depths of my soul but loves me anyways…that is not hard.

What I’ve realized is the man of my dreams wasn’t real, it was a fairy tale I created in my mind.  And what we’ve come to realize together throughout these 23 years is marriage means intentionally looking for love.  It’s choosing each other daily.  Love is strung together choices.  The feelings, undoubtedly, will rise and fall.  Being in love with love, which I was as a young bride, will fade as the toughness of life becomes a reality.  As life has went on we’ve changed, we’ve grown, we’ve matured, and life has changed us.  But I’ve also learned marriage is not meant to be a lifetime commitment to fairy tale love alone.  Marriage is designed to be a repetitive I do, it’s a daily commitment of choosing us over me.  We’ve chosen to love each other at each point in our lives.

Together through the years we’ve learned so much.  It much easier to allow you to chose the restaurant, otherwise with my indecisiveness would surely starve.  Always hold hands, even when you’re mad.  And especially in church.  Continue to pursue each others hearts and never stop dating.  The kids will survive if you turn on Spongebob and lock your bedroom door.  Kiss and dance around the kitchen while you’re cooking dinner.  Never turn down a butt smack.  Be each others most important friend.  Listen to everything we say to one another even when you’re not interested.  And most importantly, never treat divorce as an option.

Thank you for daily loving me, cherishing me and appreciating what I do for our family.  Thank you for daily accepting my flaws, forgiving my wrongs, accommodating my weaknesses and inspiring me to be better.

Today, on our twenty-third anniversary, I realize that we are once again completely unaware of what the years ahead may hold. But as we continue to walk down that road I know that we will be together with God by our side.  You will be right there, holding my hand, as we walk through the valleys and reach the beautiful mountaintops.  And I couldn’t imagine my life any other way.

I love you sweet boy.

PS…thank you for always being the official spider killer so I don’t have to burn our house down.

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