It’s no secret amongst my family or even this space on the internet that I call home, that I’ve been a bit distant. I went from being a full-time book blogger with a couple of other avenues and two books that I was writing, with social media galore. . .to nothing.
To a whole lot of radio silence.
It’s actively a rebellion. A choice. To rebel against that which my brain wants for me.
At the beginning of summer, end of May to be exact, I found out that a ten year journey was about to come to the end of a chapter and the opening of a new one.
Yeah, I know, I’m being a little cagey and wordsy. . .
Let me back up a space. . .
If you personally know me or have read my first book, you’re going to already know some of my word vomit quite up close and personal. . .sorry, not sorry. Here we go again.
When I was ten years old I began my period, which brought with it chaos. Flash forward six years and I was bleeding for months at a time, with heavy, painful periods.
I’ve encountered severely horrific anemia that has almost killed me more than once, but in fact three times.
At 20, I underwent surgery and found out that I had Endometriosis. Which in non-graphic terms is ‘a condition resulting from the appearance of endometrial tissue outside the uterus and causing pelvic pain.’
In graphic terms. . .profanity alert!
It causes the most horrifically fucked up pain that I have encountered in my entire life. Bleeding, cramping, nausea, diarrhea, low back pain, pain, pain, pain, pain. It’s incurable and a GIANT PAIN to live with.
Two years later I was back on the operating table undergoing the same surgery – again. This is common. Tragically common. For women to have continuous surgery to have the endometrial tissue removed from their body.
At this point I was diagnosed with Chronic Endometriosis, meaning that sucker is not going to freaking die. It’s coming back, over and over again.
Woo. To. The. Hoo.
That’s sarcasm, ladies & gents.
So, I’ve lived with it, it’s been my nearly constant companion for so long, I don’t know what it is to be pain free. To not have nausea, I have no idea what that is like.
In 2013, I was diagnosed with PCOS, or Polycystic Ovarian Syndrome. Yay. How lucky am I to have two fucked up problems with my uterus.
Because of these two incurable – let me repeat that – incurable. Because these two things live and breathe and fight for every once of my daily quota of bullshit – it’s safe to say, that I’m not normal. At all.
I don’t have a normal job, I don’t sleep normal hours, I don’t spend the same amount on pads or tampons that a ‘normal’ woman would. I go to the Doctor enough that we’re on good speaking terms in the office.
I’m a fat girl with nausea and a need for a bathroom, who eats and wants to puke it back up because the nausea is horrible. Who bleeds to the point that it would be weird to not have blood coming out of me every day.
PCOS and Endometriosis have run havoc over my life and tempted me to crawl within my old familiar hole of depression. Cuz’ did I mention, those two little goodies aren’t all I deal with daily?
No? I got mental health issues coming out of my ass, and my body is a true disaster. Whenever I’m asked if someone can get me something, when I’m sick as a dog in my bed and not functioning, my answer, the same every time, “New body.”
Short and sweet and impossible.
So now I get back to the beginning – May 2016. I made an appointment with a new OBGYN – my main Doc doesn’t do lady bit stuff – at all. So he sent me over to a newbie. I waffled back and forth, I knew that it was time for another round of surgery, waaaay overdue actually. But I wasn’t completely ready to go through the horror of surgery yet again.
It becomes disheartening to go from Doctor, to surgeon in constant search of an answer. A way to take some of the pain away, to rid myself of nausea and getting the same answers.
So in May when I walked into the OBGYN’s office, I expected nothing. What I ended up getting was a whole lot more than nothing.
At this point in my life, I’m almost 30, with no husband, no children, and the MASSIVE amounts of pain and debilitating pain and anguish that my body has caused and the reams of paper that can be used as a scrapbook of all the procedures, surgeries, medicines, birth controls, and on and on and on. . .I finally came to an ending.
All of the things, all of the puzzle pieces were beginning to come together. . .
I will be receiving a Hysterectomy in September, less than a month from now. Every time I attempt to write about this, my brain shuts down and my fingertips refuse to function and the words refuse to come.
To speak about it has been horrific. Because while it is time and I am ready, it still tears pieces of me off. It’s been an interesting journey, one that I will be speaking about in more detail in the upcoming weeks.
I’m Black Sheep Girl, I’m still around, I’m still writing and functioning and thriving and fighting for the light while embracing my darkness.