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Sometimes the party takes you places that you didn’t really plan on going…

*blows into mic*

Is this thing on? I can’t believe it’s been, like, over a year since I’ve tapped this keg of awesome. Life has been incredibly busy lately (clearly), and this hasn’t been a priority. I could lie to you and say that I will make it one, but why waste my time? I don’t know if it will or not; we’ll take this relationship day by day.

In today’s news, I am celebrating myself today. Two years ago today, I lost a pretty significant piece of me, and I haven’t really been able to celebrate/mourn that since. I had every intention of celebrating it last year, but I was waiting for another operation on the docket to fix the broken down parts of me, so all pomp and circumstance went out the window. However, today is the day.

Two years ago today, I had my hysterectomy to remove the part of me that had been so tied to my identity for a long time prior. I did not have a choice; it had to be done. And with that operation came the need for another last summer to help tie up some other things that attempted to exit the Southside, so I guess two years ago was the start of a downhill slide for me physically and, honestly, mentally.

My uterus was a place where I grew and nurtured three beautiful babies, where another baby didn’t quite make it, and where countless other pregnancies could have taken place over the course of my life, but for one reason or another, did not. Women are pretty keyed-in to their inside parts, and the uterus is a pretty important one in terms of womanhood; it’s the incubator of life, which many consider to be a woman’s real superpower (I do not, but that’s another story). And in losing that piece of me, I didn’t realize I was losing a sense of self in a way.

My uterus coming out led to a chain reaction of other issues, one of which I will carry with me for all of my days in terms of a chronic bladder condition. No longer will I be able to just live comfortably or eat whatever I want without fear of pain. Discomfort is pretty much a common thing around these parts nowadays, and that really has a way of messing with you. My mind has been fuzzy, lost, confused, sad, angry, hurt. It’s hard to keep your wits about you when your basic needs of comfort aren’t being met. It’s hard to smile sometimes when, really, crying is the only thing that makes sense, the only real way to express the turmoil inside.

I haven’t been the same since this whole process started two years ago – how could I? I’ve withdrawn in many ways and threw myself out onto limbs in others.  I have felt lost, abandoned by my own body. I have felt betrayed, scared. I’ve begun to feel anger again, which is something I thought I lost when Poppa died. I didn’t realize how good it felt to FEEL things again – I’ve tried for so long to not feel much. It’s easier that way. Cutting off emotions is honestly one of the easiest ways I have found to get by with all of this – doesn’t sound healthy, but it’s effective as hell.

I have felt sorry for my husband who cannot fix this even if he tried. In a way, my losses are his, as a part of me that I knew and was accustomed to has grown dimmer. He didn’t ask for his wife to, quite literally, fall apart at the seams. But, I did. And for that, I am sorry for him. I see the look he gets in his eyes sometimes when I am in pain, or when I lash out due to just being so uncomfortable in my skin that anger is the only thing I can produce. And it hurts me to know that in this way, he can be hurting as well. It isn’t fair, but neither is life. We don’t get to pick the winning side.

My girls are used to it, often asking me what I can and can’t eat. We’ve named my bladder so they can check in on it and see how I am feeling. They are very in tune to me, so when I am having an off day, they know. And they are such good kids; I don’t deserve them, that is for sure.

Today, though, is for me. I am going to do something I have wanted to do for almost a decade. I am also going to take myself to lunch. I am going to celebrate the fact that, regardless of my physical inadequacies, I am still here. I will still be here. Even when I am doubled over in pain and feeling the sorriest for myself I have ever felt, being here is better than the alternative. Sometimes a little wallow in some self pity is a refreshingly necessary swim. However, I am ever grateful for each day I am on this planet to raise a little hell and do a little good.

My body has failed me time and again, but my mind is my weapon, sharp as ever, ready to fight. And come what may, I am a force to be reckoned with. In two years, I have managed to lose so much that it’s hard to categorize it all; my light may have dimmed in some big ways, but it for sure is still glowing – ever present. I am reminded of the song that has been buzzing about my head for about four days…

“Sometimes the party takes you places that you didn’t really plan on going.”