I've been dealing with endometriosis and other chronic women's diseases for seven years now, having been through the hell of it all myself. From personal experience, and listening to the honest, unvarnished stories of hundreds of other women, I would like to share with you, this Women's Day, what I have experienced of what it means to be a woman living with a chronic illness.
It's coming out of the tap: today's day and age is putting a lot of pressure on us women. We have to be beautiful, we have to be pretty, we have to be nice, we have to be smart, we have to be successful, trendy, informed, fun, have a white flashing smile, be a devoted mother, wife, sex goddess, athlete and cook who in her spare time- haha- does charity work, but at least is a pillar of the parenting community. But of course, most importantly, you have to be thin first and foremost.
Above all, we strive to meet all these expectations to the maximum. And we do, to the best of our ability, until suddenly things hit the fan... things don't go as we had imagined.
Sore, bloated, cramped, bleeding, not coming... the body that had been doing its job as a docile servant, washing, cooking, cleaning, working and building a career, raising and caring for a family, playing sports and trying on clothes, having sex, putting on make-up, smiling, suddenly wakes up to find that everything has changed. Slowly, quietly, insidiously, fear crept into her everyday life. The pain. Loneliness. Helplessness. Fear. Of being alone, of having no one.
The tension and boredom of waiting in doctor's surgeries has crept into everyday life. The smell of hospital disinfectant has crept into everyday life. The first night after surgery, alone with the pain.
You cannot reach the nurse call button. If you reach it, it won't ring. If it does, they don't come.
The experience of loss of control. The experience of not knowing. The maybe he will know. The disappointment. The negative, month after month. The endless, sad, empty loneliness and weariness that no one else understands but the person who is in pain himself, trying to live his life trying to fit in, trying to cling on upwards and forwards after others, while feeling weighed down by a weight of weight.
It's hard to celebrate our femininity, our femininity, sitting on the toilet when we are literally bleeding from our buttocks. Shouldn't I write it down? Is it not fitting, is it not right? Maybe. Millions of people, millions of women struggle with it every day? Sure they do.
It's hard to celebrate the female body, femininity, after all these years, month after month, turning a blind eye to the negative pregnancy tests, that maybe this time it's a maybe, but no.
It's hard not to say to hell with it, who needs it, who misses it.
It's hard to celebrate femininity, fertility and put flowers in a vase with a fresh smile on the eighth of March when you have just been declared barren. It's hard to look at the person you love and know you'll never have a child together.
It's hard to celebrate the female body, womanhood, womanhood, when you can only wallow in cramps and be happy if you can somehow crawl to the toilet in time to vomit from the pain.
It's hard to celebrate femininity when your ovaries are being operated on tomorrow. When you're waiting for a tubal patency test after years of unsuccessful attempts. When you're told the baby you carried in your womb no longer has a heartbeat. When you wake up from surgery and see a stoma sac on your side. When your partner leaves you because the sex isn't what it used to be.
How much negativity, how much anger, how much fear, frustration, anger I have seen and heard from women in the last seven years within the walls of the clinic. No one can hurt, wound, humiliate and embitter herself as much as the woman who is wracked with guilt, the woman who, after a hysterectomy, a miscarriage, a divorce, an abortion, an operation, a rape, no longer feels like a woman of fulfillment.
For you, not pregnant with a bloated belly, for you, squatting on the toilet, for you, testing negative, for you, dreading a fombie, for you, eagerly dieting, for you, waiting for surgery, for you, googling your recent diagnosis.
My dear Endo and Non Endo Companions , Dear EndoBlogging Friend! I wish you a very Happy, Happy Women's Day!
I wish you a twinkle in your eyes, a bright smile on your lips, warmth in your heart, peace in your soul, a loving companion by your side, I wish you peace, hope and joy. I wish you the joy of life, I wish you a confident, contented, flirtatious smile when you look in the mirror, I wish you blissful sex and romance in love, I wish you the ability to cultivate life, and I wish you to be able to live it if you want to live it and to be able to put it in a drawer if it's not your way. I wish for protective motherly hugs, cozy whispering with your sister, I wish for true friends, purring purring cats snuggling in your lap, laughing antics with your dog, intimate conversations over a glass of wine, a beach wave, a pleasant sunlight caressing the back of your head, a breeze ruffling your hair, a laugh line at the corner of your mouth, a hug around your waist.
I wish you health, happiness and joy of life.
I wish you wholeness, courage and strength, confidence in yourself and your body, confidence in the world that surrounds you.
With love, I send my Women's Day hugs to all my fellow EndoBloggers in Letters!
Nóra Arvai
psychologist, perinatal counsellor, specialist writer,
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