So that thing. That thing there. Is killing me.
No, I don’t literally mean the plushie, but I do mean the uterus. No, I’m not joking. As for what’s wrong with it and why it’s wreaking revenge upon me, I honestly do not know. Neither do my doctors. All I know is I’m in pain the entire month and bleeding so much I’m anemic.
I expect this to be remedied in time, or so help me, I’m moving to Canada.
Share the Wealth
Why, you might ask, am I mentioning my misbehaving uterus? Because I know I’m not alone, and others need to know that, too.
If you are in genuine pain or discomfort and those around you refuse to believe you on any kind of you’re such a drama queen grounds, you are being abused.
I was a pastor’s daughter, and too often, those of us raised in the public eye believe we must hide any weaknesses, pretending immunity to normal ailments. Yes, I am aware this is insanely unhealthy. (The stress-ulcers healed, by the way. I feel much better now.)
Communicating with others made a difference. I found out we can give each other advice. I learned we can know we’re not crazy because other people feel these things, too.
That last part is important, at least if you’ve ever been on the end of the “you’re just making that up” stick.
Again: if you are in genuine pain or discomfort and those around you refuse to believe you on any kind of you’re such a drama queen grounds, you are being abused. Do not accept a lesser term. Do not recoil. You will not heal until you see it for what it is.
This Will Be
I won’t ramble much further. Suffice it to say I’m done with pretending to be fine when I’m not. It took me 36 years to learn that lesson. If you’re reading this, I hope you’re a better student than I.
To all who suffer from insubordinate organs: I salute you. We shall march toward wellness together.