Hi hey hello. Before I get into my *rage* I want to add some disclaimers: First, if this is *too much* just scroll down and read the last few paragraphs. Less ragey, more funny.

Second, writing this and sharing it has been so unbelievably freeing. I have felt clogged and stagnant. I have wanted to share about my surgery and recovery and life in general but it felt disingenuous to do so without naming the hardest part about it and the thing I've struggled with the most this past year. I feel a burgeoning freedom and spaciousness inside of me that has for many months felt clouded in anger and hurt and I am SO excited to feel that. I wrote the first version of this in November, but I was much angrier then and knew that version was not for public consumption. Some things just need a lot of time (and therapy).

Third disclaimer: I am most definitely in therapy, working through my big ass feelings with a professional (just texted her right now) and with my most trusted loved ones. I am undeniably grateful to be alive to even feel difficult feelings like deep hurt, anger and frustration. Last year at this time I was the epitome of no thoughts, just vibes (but the vibes were depressing). I was practicing walking, my ADLs (activities of daily living), was just beginning to shower and use the bathroom alone and still felt so physically and cognitively awful that I called my nurse crying, scared I'd be stuck that way forever. Trapped in and by my own swollen little brain. She told me that the location of my tumor meant a much longer recovery than if it had been in a different area and that when it comes to brain surgery, "No progress IS progress." I think about that a lot and think it applies to a lot of things in life.

So to even have the capacity to not only feel all I feel now but to be able to articulate it and work through it is a really big blessing. And as my husband Chris likes to tease me when I'm getting worked up, "If you have hate in your heart, let it out." Amen amen.

Final disclosure: My goal with this and most personal things I share is for it to be helpful or supportive for at least one person. Seeing myself in other people's writing and experiences (especially with the hard life stuff) has seen me through many a dark and hard season of life. I hope I can share things in a way that makes people feel understood, less alone and makes them laugh at least a little bit. Because if I can't laugh through the most dark times of my life then I have lost my way.

Ready? This is going to be the opposite of any yoga class you might have gone to where they want you to do a loving kindness meditation. Where you inhale love and exhale compassion, sending it to the whole wide world! My sacrilegious version is something like: Inhale deep presence, exhale and let the hate from your heart out through your mouth. Let's do it.

It's Springtime now (or in Houston we call this Summer/Hell Part I as it is already in the 90s and I'm dealing with boob sweat when walking my dog at 7 am). April 10th marked one year since my craniotomy to remove my brain tumor. That anniversary was...strange. My sense of time is strange. Most of the time it feels like I had surgery a handful of months ago and not an entire year (or 13 months at the time I'm writing this). I am continuing to recover and continuing to be humbled by how incredibly slow this process can be. I allow the people closest to me to reflect to me the ways I am progressing when I feel like I'm stalled out or stuck.

May is Brain Tumor Awareness Month in the states and months ago I was hoping I would fly back to Charlotte to run a 5k for an organization that does research for brain tumors and brain cancer. The race was 2 minutes from my childhood home and it was 3 days from the one year anniversary of my surgery. It felt like fate! I could raise money for an organization whose research I now follow closely and celebrate being able to move and run and feel strong, surrounded by family and loved ones. I had celebrated the one year anniversary of my double mastectomy years ago by running a 5k. Most of my family was there, my sister Kaela ran with me, Chris drove a car slowly next to us and completely creeped out some of the other runners (ha). My Dad had a cake made but the grocery store wouldn't draw boobs on it, so he did it himself (bless that man). And I remember laughing because the boobs hung kind of low and I thought about how weird it's going to be as my body ages but my boobs just stay sitting up high, forever 25 years young. I remember how strong I felt running that 5k. I wanted to feel that way again post brain surgery. I had started jogging and running to prepare.

But I didn't do it.

Because the last time I went home to North Carolina was September. For my birthday. And it wasn't good. In fact, I went home multiple times last summer in the first few months after my surgery when I was cleared by my surgeon to fly and after I found out surgery was curative and I would not need further treatment. Chris was back at work fully, working his 80+ hours a week and I was still so early in my recovery, way too early to be alone without help and care. I needed to be around my family. I needed help. I wanted to go home, so I did. I flew back in June. Again in July. Again in August. Again in September. And each time, I found myself immersed in other people's emotional turmoil, tension, old and shitty family dynamics. People projecting their stuff all over me. I was shocked and then absolutely furious. And more than anything: I was incredibly sad and hurt. It was the most vulnerable time in my life. I do not like needing help from other people. I am used to being the helper. It's difficult for me to trust other people with my care, to be so needy. I am fiercely independent and I absolutely run Chris and I's life together down in Texas. I managed (almost) everything while building and running my own business. And although completely exhausting at times, I took pride in that shit. And seemingly overnight, everything stopped and I was the one needing so much help.

I am not sharing this to be messy or to air out my family and loved one's business. I am not going to share intimate details. I love my family and the people in my life. My parents are wonderful people and are really great parents. My Mom and Dad flew out to me the day after I told them about my tumor, even though I insisted I was okay (I was not). They were terrified. Of course they were. This was an incredibly traumatic event for us as a family. Most of my family was really supportive for the first 6-8 weeks post surgery. I felt very loved and cared for in my home during those months. Things just came apart when I left Texas for North Carolina last summer. I also want to say that even with a swollen brain and serious cognitive deficits, I can hold my own and verbally wipe the floor with anyone that disrespects me, so I do not want anyone to feel bad for me and I do not feel like a victim in any of this. *Winks in Aries Rising, Virgo Sun and Cap Moon* I can give the tongue lashing of a lifetime baby. Put that on my tombstone.

But this does happen during and in the aftermath of crises-"this" meaning families kind of falling apart, people around you treating you in ways you could never anticipate when you are navigating an actual life or death situation. And it's not really talked about because it's incredibly painful. It's embarrassing. It's confusing. It's isolating. I fully intended to share my surgery and recovery process in an ongoing way this last year and I really wasn't able to because I have been hurting emotionally from the things that I had to deal with in the months after my surgery. I have been doing months of therapy with my longtime therapist and we have hardly done any work around the actual tumor diagnosis, surgery and recovery because I have needed so much help processing what the FUCK happened emotionally with some of the people around me. How do I forgive, how do I trust, how do I move forward? How do I make a level of peace within myself so that I am not overtaken by my hurt and anger? How do I protect my peace and not let anyone or anything steal my second chance of life?

And that makes me angry. That this is what I'm working through instead of what happened. Because it was avoidable. In the first few months post brain surgery, I was incredibly disabled. I needed care. It is not a 6 week recovery. It is not a 6 month recovery. I am still recovering 13 months out. And those first months were so scary and life altering. Because of the swelling in my brain, I needed to stay calm. I couldn't have sex or get aroused for 2+ months because the blood flow to my brain was dangerous for me. And something I quickly learned was that emotional regulation is not a thing after brain surgery. I thought I was losing my mind. I would feel feelings of hysteria and rage swell up in my body out of nowhere. It was like adolescence but ten times more mortifying to experience as a grown ass woman in her 30s.

I needed the people around me to help me down regulate. To co-regulate with me and help me to calm the fuck down when that would happen. And I found myself last summer being dragged into emotionally charged situations. It felt cruel. Because I did not have control over the very thing I needed to navigate shit like that in a way to protect myself: my brain. So, I would get upset (very bad for a swollen brain) and the emotional dysregulation would lead to me to have big cognitive crashes. I went home because I needed help in my recovery. And I found myself not only not progressing, but feeling worse and worse. By August, I hit the wall. But it took me until September to recognize that I had to remove myself from the situation until circumstances changed. And it was more like Chris saying to me: You going home isn't working, you're done. I had kept going home every few weeks thinking: If I can just stay calm. If I can just remove myself from the situation faster. If I can just slip outside or out of the room if I hear someone coming down the hall. But that's not healthy. That's not an environment you heal in. I tried repeatedly to state my needs, my boundaries and to advocate for myself. But I had to be honest with myself: the place I have gone for comfort and support my whole life was not a place I could currently be. When I needed it most. I felt really sad about that and tried really hard to change it but I couldn't.

If someone were to ask me the best and worst thing about going through brain surgery, I would tell them it's the same thing: Other people. For the most part, people were (and still are) so incredibly wonderful. Chris and I were enveloped by love and support. And, we also dealt with people who did not treat us well. Who pulled on the people who were caring for us. Who pulled on us when we were already drowning. And it is really painful to see how other people will center themselves in the most terrifying moments of your life. Even if you forgive it, you never forget what it feels like. I experienced violations of my right to privacy in some of my most vulnerable moments and feeling so uncared for was de-humanizing. It made me want to hide away for many months. And I largely did just that.

I cocooned all fall and winter down in Houston. I was completely exhausted and really feeling down about where I was at in my recovery. I blamed myself for not being better at protecting my peace and safeguarding my brain and body. I struggled to sleep and to function day to day. I felt lost and really alone. I spent the holidays by myself. It was so fucking sad y'all, I cannot even lie to you. I tried to make it cozy and watch movies but I cried a lot. I felt like I should be surrounded by my family, celebrating the miracle it is that I was tumor free and still had my mobility. Why was I the one isolated and on the outside of my family when I had not done anything wrong (this might be the first and only time I can claim that I did nothing wrong-I have been an asshole many many times in my life)? I really needed care and support. I oscillated between feeling so hurt and completely furious. How DARE anyone cross me in my most vulnerable time! How DARE anyone kick me when I was down! How DARE anyone cause pain to my husband after all he had been through and as he tried to care for me! Furious isn't even the right word- I was enraged. I would wake up in the middle of the night, rehearsing fights that had happened and having imaginary ones that hadn't. It was exhausting and I knew I couldn't continue on like that.

Doing the right thing for ourselves does not always feel good. I think often about something I heard Jessica Lanyadoo share on her podcast months ago about the most compelling and strongest feeling we have is not necessarily the thing we take action from or act upon. What I wanted to do for all the months of summer, fall and winter was verbally eviscerate anyone who disturbed my peace and set fire to the world as an outlet for the rage demon constantly swirling in my body. I wanted to go onto the internet and publicly name people and put them on absolute blast for what they had put me (and Chris) through, detailing each egregious act and the ways in which they refused accountability and instead doubled down on things, framing themselves as the victim. It was infuriating and maddening. Here I was, a whole ass therapist and I had no tools to fix this shit.

My lack of emotional regulation meant a lot of internet time outs so I didn't say something I'd regret or couldn't take back. There I was, still trying to protect and care for people who were causing the distress. I did not set the world ablaze with my fury. What I did instead was much less exciting, much more boring and much better for me: I did 4 months of physical therapy, I had regular sessions with my mental health therapist, I wrote, I cried, I curled up on Chris. I cooked meals. I adopted a dog and learned how to mother in my own way. I took care of the sweet bungalow home I live in and the home that is my body. I slowed way down. I learned how to take naps (holy holy holy this is one of my most proud achievements, I'm not even joking). I was on social media much less. I went no contact with the people I needed to stop speaking to in order to protect my peace. I went to the park. I got back into yin yoga. I took care of my yard. I got my garden ready for this year.

So...what now? I'm not sure. Baby steps. I have continued to have healing and sometimes hard conversations with my loved ones. When I love someone, I can forgive pretty much anything as long as we can talk through it. I am still angry. I am still hurt. Sometimes I feel bad that I feel these feelings and that I allow them to eclipse my joy at being alive, being able to walk. To not be going through chemo or radiation. But I believe I will work through them. And pretending I do not feel these feelings alongside everything else just isn't going to work for me. I have been oversharing on the internet for the better part of a decade so tucking the most painful and traumatic part of this whole time in my life away also was not going to work for me. And I cannot stomach performative vulnerability so I just kept my mouth shut until I was ready to open it. Here we are. Open wide!

I'm so thankful to be okay. I'm so happy to be walking. And cooking. And driving. And walking my dog. And gardening. And I am very grateful to have a family where we can get to the point of really talking through things. For healing to happen, together. A lot of people don't have that-they never get the apology, the closure, the conversation, the ability to heal in real time with the people they love. I am really thankful to have the chance to do that.

And I'm still angry. And I'm sad. And I'm hurt. And I wish I could un-experience and un-know some of the things that happened. I wish that all these months had been spent processing my surgery and recovery and not having to parse through painful dynamics with other people. A few months ago I expressed these frustrations to my therapist and she gently said, "But Alyssa, this IS the most traumatic part of everything you've gone through. We have to talk about it." Big sigh. Because she was right. It was traumatic to feel like: Oh, I really cannot trust certain people around me when I'm in a life or death situation. People did things to me I would never do to them if they were in my position. And I can't unsee it. It felt like this: Extending grace to people because they made a mistake. They take the grace, do more fucked up shit and put their hand right back out, feeling entitled to MORE grace while extending you none. I truly felt like I was losing my mind. And at the point that other people are not changing, it does fall on us to adjust accordingly. Even when it's hard and it's not what we want. We cannot work with someone's potential, we gotta work with things and people as they are. Anything else sets us all up for disappointment and delusion. Is my Capricorn Moon showing?

The thing about relationships is that everyone wants them until they get hard. Most of us are not taught how to navigate conflict or major harm. We run or project or blame. We behave in cowardly or unethical ways. We create elaborate narratives about what happened and our role, we believe the story we've concocted and try to convince everyone around us that it's true because it's how we feel, goddamnit! Even though we know feelings aren't facts. We don't want to face the truth that sometimes we act like an asshole or are living out of integrity with who we actually are at our core (I can think of ten examples immediately of times I have done this and I'm sure there are 100 more). In any of our relationships, there is going to be conflict. It will sometimes be painful. We will do things that hurt other people and they will do things that hurt us. The questions I always come back to: Is there a way through this? Not out of it, not avoiding it, but through it, with it? And can I do it with this person (or people) or is this something I have to do on my own? Where does peace live for me and what do I want out of this?

It sounds counterintuitive but I actually feel so much more peace now than I ever have. I think it's why I can actually take naps. I don't feel like I'm constantly unconsciously battling a bunch of unknown, unnamed and unacknowledged inner demons. I know myself deeply. I know every dark shadowy corner of my psyche. And I've made peace with it. Sitting intimately and truthfully with my own mortality is the most sobering thing I've ever done. When I realized I had a fucking brain tumor, one of the first feelings that gripped me was regret. I felt the physical sensation of choking. The knowing that I could die and was not ready to. It was a terror I hope to never know again. And it pushed me to voice out loud to God, myself and my loved ones that if given the chance to survive this, I would live differently. In alignment with my heart and soul. Every day, in small and consistent ways so that when I do die, I can say with my full chest: I lived as myself, I loved my people fiercely, I created a life that honored my Spirit. Whether I get to do that for months, years or decades, it's a commitment I made. I do not want to be plagued by terror or regret in my final moments because of choices I did (or didn't) make.

I feel so differently today than I did last year, hiding in my car googling low grade gliomas for adults. I have done so much reflecting on my life, have made so many small but important shifts in my day to day that have brought me a lot of peace. I most certainly do not want to die and still feel like I have a good 5 decades of being a menace left in me, so I don't want this to read wrong. But I think if I got that diagnosis today, I would not feel that gripping regret. I have lived a really beautiful life. I am surrounded by love. I have done really cool things that matter to me professionally. I've connected with so many wonderful people. I publicly (!!) embraced my intuitive gifts and read tarot and channeled for all kinds of people navigating all stages of life. Getting to meet guides and deceased loved ones of clients is incredibly cool and sacred.

I have gotten to love my soulmate for many years-we have gotten to essentially grow up together. And I've gotten to watch and support him in making his dreams come true. I laughed through the hardest and scariest time of my life. I got alcohol sober at 22. I cut off my boobs at 25. I went off to grad school where I knew nobody and lived alone two plane rides away from my family at 23, young and terrified. I started my own business and got to do really meaningful work. I bought a home and made it my sanctuary. I have spent years oversharing about my life on the internet (I really was out here talking about my vagina online on a regular basis. There is a blogpost I guest authored on detailing how I self pleasured. May it live on forever. Chris knows running for public office is a no go because they'd be like: Oh here's a Shape Magazine article where your wife is quoted as saying in her professional opinion women should dump men who don't go down on them. I did say that your Honor and I stand by it).

I made 1,000 mistakes and said sorry, paid karmic debts (ouch ouch ouch) and opted out of fucked up generational patterns. I made it my mission to know myself deeply and to turn that understanding outwards as much as possible in order to connect and understand others, lest I become one more self proclaimed self aware (self centered) insufferable human. I tried. I cared a lot. I was not a chill girl. I was high maintenance and high strung and I was myself. Do you know that before we knew the tumor was gone for real and the stats were looking very scary, I thought to myself: If I am doing to die from this, then I will live as fully as possible and then I will share with people and show them how to die. And that it's awful and also okay and we are all going to do it. My memoir would read: From the bedroom to six feet under: from oversharing about my pussy to oversharing about my impending death.

I put my heart and soul into my life. And I hope for many many more years to do so.

Okay, that's it (I have actually no idea how to end what feels to me to be an incredibly intense email). I know women's rage is not sexy, cool or a chill girl thing. I hope we rage anyway. I think it's sexy and cool. And real.

Love y'all,

Alyssa