Remember in school, when you’d come back and have to write the short essay to share about what you did over summer. Mine were always the welfare summer vacations of city pools, public libraries and hanging with my mom.
This summer though, it was a vastly different and very deep dive into places I have not seen nor acknowledged in decades.
My life has off and on been a shit show circus of my own design and decisions and often of a design I had no say in and now way for many years to make meaning, to make sense out of the multitude of deaths and the sheer amount of locust that reigned through my life.
I have seen my part in many of the choices I made and I’ve made amends to those where to do so would not harm them. This is the part where personal responsibility holds true and steady in my life today, and for many days, months and years.
This past year, has been one of fire for me. Trials by fire. Life on fire. Politics on fire, it’s been fiery for me, the Goddess and her charge and heat have most certainly been full tilt boogie in my soul.
June 14th came about and everything I knew before, it’s been shifting. All of it. From my internal organs to my soul, to my decisions and to my choices and energies.
As, many know, I had a hysterectomy. I was not prepared for it to happen, and within a week of trying to plan for everything to happen, everything happened. My life, as I knew it burnt up, metaphorically, into tiny pieces of ash that I would tend to over the ensuing weeks.
Why, you say would I write about it? Because, no one really shares their full and true experiences and we write it off as a surgery that women have often enough, that we don’t need to care. A part of it, is that we as women are tough, we heal and we move on, but in that liminal time of healing, it is so painful, that re-birth to a new you, a woman, as in my case, I no longer recognized as me.
The grief for me was not what one would imagine, it was a dead set ache of tears and sobbing that wracked my body and soul. The full tilt guilt and shame of the woman I have been came crashing forward. All the poor decisions, the poor choices, the pain I had caused any and everyone in my life. I spent the first week in pain and sobbing until I had no more tears for all the shitty things I had said, done, or not done in my life to that point. Yes, it was hormonal, and it was honest. It was the deepest seated anguish of all the losses I have felt, I have withstood and I have moved forward in my life from. Mostly shitty on that last part of moving forward.
I was writing out amends to bugs I had unintentionally killed in my life, along with the men and women I had ever even glanced sideways at, or thought shitty things about.
I had written small novellas and dispatched them to those who needed for me to just acknowledge the shit show that was me, my life, and my choices. Mind you, I had done this before and they knew it, but this time, it was different, it was as if all that was before, it had crumbled into a tiny ball in my heart and it had burned up. I had to acknowledge the loss of my life prior to this surgery and sit in the unknown of my life from this moment forward…the cycle of birth, life, death, birth, life, death.
This didn’t stop after the first week. It was a deep, deep, dive into my soul and psyche. It was a dive I was not sure I would come up from. It was the compression of depression, grief, anxiety, and trauma all balled up in the pit of my soul, belly and heart. I had to sit still, I had to sit on my hands and move through this, with all the lovingkindness I could muster and the peace of mind I was searching for throughout the healing.
I am best described by those who even remotely know me as authentic and strong.
Suddenly, I felt weak, so very weak, and I didn’t know what to do or what I was going to do and when.
My physical strength would rebuild, my spiritual strength was in my back yard in ashes.
I had so much support and love through the process, but I could not share the real parts of this, the terror, the night terrors, nightmares, the sweating, OMG the sweating, the tears and the utter frustration at so many things within myself. Love poured out and I worked to accept it with the grace and strength I had, only to find myself again up at 3am crying and pouring my heart out to the Goddess to hear me and to help me find myself again…she whispered back, that I, as I was, would no longer be here, that part of me and my life was gone.
I have been learning this new me. This woman who is old, has many new wrinkles, is softer in skin and in soul. I lay myself bare in this not to find love or accolade, but to share the experience of being a woman. A woman who has in this transition, grown into a more loving woman, a softer woman, who’s strength is still rebuilding to a new form.
A woman who at once melts at the sight of a baby and who longs and will not have her own grandchildren. To coo, cuddle, be loved and love in that fashion. Whose experience of being a parent is often marginalized in our culture, but who for decades longed for one child. I envy grand babies, and those who have them, but not in the traditional, jealous sense, but the grieving and yet joyful sense for others who experience that deeply embodied love.
I am gathering my thoughts for this blog…the newness of my life even to me has brought about great and significant changes. Those that are scary as fuck, and those that begin to settle in like a gentle friend to tap you and just let you know, you’re not alone.
It’s been a wild and wonderful, strange and scary summer, but one I will soon not forget.
Stay tuned, I plan on sharing the fuck out of this…please feel free to share it if you feel it would benefit others.
Next Post: Intimacy and the Crone.