I wish I could share glowing, heartwarming memories about Art Bra 2019 with you. There are some, absolutely, but another lesson was also learned that night, one not so rose-colored.
Until coming off stage, I was indeed surrounded by my new breast cancer sisters, feeling understood and supported in a new and powerful way. Every single one of them was breathtakingly beautiful. The joy I felt for them as they worked that runway was overwhelming as was my own trip down the aisle.
I’d celebrated being finished with chemo and surgery, the strange victories of living 1 year and then 2. But, let’s be honest, I wasn’t really celebrating, just appreciating the support and trying to make the best of an incredibly impossible and painful situation. I hadn’t celebrated the grit and tenderness that remain forever after breast cancer. The runway felt like that sort of celebration, finally something I could really participate in.
Once I came off the runway to greet my family and friends, I immediately realized what a different person I now am.
I used to be known as the ultimate party girl, drinking, dancing, and getting into mischief until the sun came up. I did this regularly, in Boulder, DC, and in Austin. I’m the one you called not when you needed a shoulder to cry on but instead when you wanted to drink and dance the memory of him/her/it/them away. I abused alcohol but I wrote it off as fun. Once I started abusing alcohol to numb the pain and fear of cancer, I realized what a mess I was making of my life. I started making changes in early 2019 and things have gotten much, much better for me.
While I still love a rowdy night on the dance floor and a wine night with my girlfriends that lasts until 4am, I often feel I am straddling both worlds in an uncomfortable way. I know I need to tone it down but my lifestyle, social circle, and even family life has never been one of moderation. I don’t have terrific self-control and maybe never will. But, I need to heal my brain and I can’t do that if I’m wasted.
Art Bra meant so much to me so I was disappointed when I realized many of my supporters were not celebrating for the same reason as me. I felt isolated from my most precious people as they partied and drank and the night disintegrated into the usual diaspora of stunted communication and ghosting.
It seemed they missed the point. And why wouldn’t they? They’ve never gone through this awful thing. They’ve never been scared like this. Maybe I hadn’t articulated the significance of the night. Maybe they just simply don’t or can’t understand how things have shifted for me.
I’ve been told many times since Saturday that I should appreciate the intention. My friends got together to rally me, some going far out of their way, paying a lot, and traveling long distances, and I do appreciate it. But, appreciation can get muddled when the outcome is so far from the intention.
The lesson learned is this: Sometimes things happen to you that change the very composition of your personality. You can’t unknow something. You can’t always go back. The world around you might need to change a bit too for it to remain intact. Moving forward can look a lot different than looking back.
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