Emotional Rollercoaster

It is 8 weeks post surgery and I haven’t written in so long. At first, it was because I had such little energy. I went back to work after 3 weeks, yes only 3 weeks, and had to use all of my energy to deal with customers and my amazing but large team. Then my doctor switched me from the Combi patch to the Estradiol patch and Oral Progesterone and I became what felt like an emotional black hole. All I wanted to do was watch The Real Housewives of Beverly Hills and the Potomac and just lay there, in bed, alone. Living vicariously through these ladies, removed from my life.

I didn’t share my amazing story of this new doctor I found who specializes in Ayurvedic medicine and is an MD. This doctor confirmed my decision that a hysterectomy was the best route for me, which was seriously the best choice confirmation I could have received from an Eastern Medicine Doctor.

I didn’t share about all of the changes happening in my life from my parents selling my childhood home to the vacation to Washington D.C. I am just coming back from with my family. My step daughter graduated 8th grade and since she had no 8th grade trip with the school due to Covid, we created one as a family that was incredible.

I haven’t shared that for two weeks I am drinking way too much wine and stopped my diet. I gained 8 pounds from surgery even with eating healthy, maybe due to all the hormones or lack thereof. I just don’t know if I see the benefit of the no meat, dairy, gluten in such extremes since my Endo grew back so fast.

I haven’t shared that instead of grieving for the loss of fertility, I just feel empty, as if nothing is there. Because nothing is there. I have had a hard time looking at babies but not reading pregnancy announcements on Facebook. Weird, I know.

I haven’t shared that I dyed part of my hair blue, though it has already faded. It was such a fun, wild, out of the ordinary thing for me to do.

I haven’t shared that I got a new tattoo- a beautiful uterus filled with flowers right on the inside of my left forearm. How empowering it felt in the moment and a gentle reminder every time I look down at my arm.

As I head back from vacation, I made a pact to myself. A pact to get back my strength, my power back from this disease and all of my surgeries, and nuture what my body needs. Working out, writing, meditating, I need to do more for me. Enough wallowing, time to move on and move forward.

Sending Endolove,

Molly