The Story of O = being an outlier

Right now, the tumor stinks. There's a groove down the center, and placing a slice of lemon directly on it helps absorb the odor. I can go for hours and not notice anything, until I remove the bandage.

Dissolving a cancerous tumor naturally is the act of an outlier. A person on the edge of mass culture, who came out of that culture, but realized on many occasions throughout her life, that the normal life could never be enough for her. It was full of lies and stupid stories, people being mean and not trusting each other, competition and bullying in school, stress and expectations, unhappy parents, a brother who wanted to be left alone, and her neediness never fulfilled.

My body is taking every ounce of energy to dissolve this rock in my breast. I get breathless after the slightest activity and find myself lying down for a few minutes to relax. My body returns to a balanced state and I can get up and move on.

I have to admit it disturbs me, but I know once the tumor has completely gone, my energy will return, I'll build myself back to being able to climb pinnacle peak here in scottsdale, to dance at people unlimited meetings, to feel free to meet someone to enjoy sex with,.

Right now, with my latest man friend gone, I realized that I had perhaps been unrealistic to expect a stranger to come into my life, accept the tumor, be able to see it on a constant basis, help me out with maggot therapy, bring me bandages when it suddenly starts bleeding, take arty photos of the whole thing with his great camera and be interested in doing that, not feel sick at the sight of it, not wish I was normal and had 2 breasts, be able to not worry about the weird food treatement I've chosen, be able to stay passionate with me, and understand my dark moments, and hold me and tell me it is all going to be all right. Plus, make love with me several times a week, because after all, in my mind, sex and love are two of the healthiest experiences people can share, and I was up for it.

Now he's gone, he ran fast, I knew it would be better to continue on alone, be able to lie about naked and not have to cover up, do all my writing work relaxed, allow my breast to breath, go in the sun for vitamin D, take baths, not have to cover up and try and make it all allright, hide my tears, cry alone, not say too much about my fears and so on,

Still I believe, because I stayed with a man I loved who died of AIDS six years after we met, that it is possible to have such a passion between one another, lover or not, but to have a solid feeling that the person you are with will live, that you see them alive and whole, no matter what is going on, that you will speak up and say the things that will build that person to keep living, with joy and courage, to outlive adversity and doubt, together you see, and with others, everything can be achieved.

So, though we are separated now, I know who I am. I am a person who prefers to stay together with a person I adore, through it all, to change together, even when it gets tough, and one can't change immediately, needs help, but has that feeling of knowing change must occur, then I want to be there, to see and make those changes, to deepen my connection to love more to feel more, to cry with the depth of adoration I feel for that person, when I look at the skin, the face, the shape of the body, tears well up, because when I have made love to that person, I have completely taken them in to me, no separation, and even though habitual patterns of separation come up, I want to end them, to be close.

Thing is, the other person has to want the same thing, and be capable of extending that to you, and be excited by it, and know, that patterns are death, and togetherness is the goal, and we're safe, we're really safe to make these changes, because we have found people who really give a shit, who won't leave.

Like I told him at the start, I wouldn't be the one to leave, he'd have to be the one because I know who I am. I'm here to stay. I'm capable of forgiving and moving, I want to melt, I must.
When you've got a rock of toxic death in your breast, you know you have to move.