#progress though

⛧ ᴡᴇᴇᴋ 10: ʀᴏᴜɢʜ  ⛧

And so, I continue to work on my rough animations this week. Here are some of the scenes somewhat completed over the course of the week. Unfortunately, the perfectionist side in me is disappointed in the scenes produced; doesn’t mean we won’t keep trying though and at least it’s progress;; It’s just a rough, Andrea... chill. 

The dichotomy of being honest with those that care about me and not wanting to bother anyone is hard.

So here it goes; It sucks how one day can be great with being able to have a breakthrough in therapy and the next day I'm back in the shit with my mom.

I'm on call, watching Artemis II land, sitting in discord with friends, and resisting the urge to respond snarkly to my mother. What could be a fun night(despite call) tainted by her shit.

I didn't read the results of her MRI fast enough and now I don't care about her-obviously. I guess I do have to give my myself credit for not dumping why my bandwidth is limited and she's not in the budget. Instead I told her I'm not doing this tonight and she can reach out another time.

Aside from work taking on sicker and sicker patients and the imposter syndrome that comes along with it I got my genetic testing back at my yearly GYN.

33% lifetime chance of breast cancer. At the age of 40 I'll have a mammogram and breast MRI yearly each 6 months apart until I'm 80 or get cancer.

Getting news like that I feel like I should be able to talk to my mother, who's actually had breast cancer, but instead I'm scared of her finding out because she'll make it about her.

Even now, if I told her to explain why I haven't felt like talking to her(saying it in a nicer way), what's that compared to the shoulder pain she's had for months?

But I keep reminding myself that I have a great chosen family. I know at any point I could tell any one of them and they would be there for me. Oddly, that news hasn't been shared not because I'm anxious about telling people. It's because they're nearly all male and it feels a little weird to randomly bring up that my boobs might betray me one day. Plus I still have 11 years and things rapidly change in medicine. 33% is a big number today, but in a decade it may be smaller or even preventable.

Ta da. Feelings!