Part IV {Pain}

The truth is that everything still hurts.  All the pain I’ve chased away, hidden, ran from, pretended wasn’t there, and of course, there’s, the pain I’ve clung to and somewhat cherished, that is still there too. You see, sometimes pain is the only thing you have left from something else… And then there’s the pain I’ve adopted and absorbed from others. The pain I’ve told everyone about, possibly every day, in an attempt to talk it out, I suppose. I’ve chopped away at it and wrote poems that didn’t rhyme about it and then I’ve sat with it, like the only friend I have left. Pain is a broad battered blanket and a rare prickly plant all at once. 

The thing about chronic pain. Be it physical, emotional, spiritual… is that you begin to wonder if you made it up somehow. Especially the physical pain, I’ve found to be particularly messy. Could I possibly hurt that much so often? And if you can feel it and you think your crazy just imagine what everyone else thinks. Still it’s there, constantly, it’s there… it stops me in my tracks at times or pulls at me… like a memory at the edge of my mind trying to get my attention. And then other times, nothing, freedom and normalcy and even that you can feel because it’s finally there. 

I actually felt so validated and relieved when I woke up from my surgery a year ago to be told that there were things discovered, things to be fixed. Although they have yet to be fixed. How ridiculous is that? But it wasn’t in my head. The physical pains. And there were scars. So many unexplainable scars. 

The truth is your womb in tiny when there’s no baby in there. It’s so, so small. The massive amount of physical and emotional trauma that tiny thing has caused me has created some of the most significant and repetitious physical and spiritual fatigue possibly in my lifetime. 

Physical pain is manifested from emotional wounds and in this case I don’t know which came first. They arrived all at once it seems and have beeen here to stay. You could say that these are the ones I cling to. These are the ones that will never allow full healing of my body. I want to fucking let it go. I need to. It doesn’t serve me and I’ve said “you can go now” a million times but maybe I’ve never said it like I meant it, or maybe I’ve never meant it. If there’s an answer here I don’t know what it is. But it’s time for it to go. 

I’ll update details soon, but for now this is the much belated, unfiltered, un-proofread emotions of it all. For those who haven’t breek following, I have documented my experience with uterine ablation for other women who may be facing similar circumstances. I am currently 1 year post op. You can begin the first in this series here.

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