Living Through It

Today in therapy we talked about the PTSD book that is our next project. I'm glad she found one and I'm glad we're going to be starting this. As insightful as the relationship workbooks have been, one thing that has become very clear to me from reading them is how out of sync I am with my body. Being present is really hard. Being in the NOW is really hard. And if you've followed the blog of late, you know how I am about this. I've been caught up in other things. Not that this is surprising.

I cried today because when she asked me why I was feeling this way, I talked about a dream I had a few days ago. I dreamed the massive bloodhell came back. I dreamed I was laying in my bed and experiencing the grossness and pain of my cervix dilating so huge clots could push out of me. The dream was so awful because all of the aching and all of the horrors of having no control over the situation were back. When I woke up, I felt around on the bed to see if anything happened. Nothing had, of course, but the dream stuck with me.

After my mom died, I went through about a week of heavy bleeding. It ended and I thought nothing about it. When my grandmother died and we moved in here, things started getting weird with my body. My bellybutton is fake and I went through this strange time when it had blood spurting out of it. I don't remember how long this went on. A week or two? It was very disturbing and, honestly? Scary.

Then the constant bleeding began. Most of the time, it was manageable. I constantly wore pads and kept a tampon inside me. I had to change them several times a day. It never ended. But, as I said, on the good days, it was something I could live with.

On the bad days, it was rough. I would have to stay on constant edge, knowing that at any minute I might need to go tend to gushing blood and large clots. I never knew when it would start. There was no predicting when it would get bad. I can't tell you how many times I had to clean up puddles of blood from the bathroom floor. Every time I did my laundry, I would have to sit and spray the bloodstains on my panties. Every time.

Two years ago, when things got to the crisis point, the whole process became unbearable. I was basically bedridden for weeks. Until I was given the depo shot, I spent almost a month with my whole life revolving around trying not to bleed over everything.

And while the last part was the worst part, one thing I am finally coming to terms with is the fact that this went on for several years. I had to deal with this bleeding and scariness for several years of my life. Emotionally, that has left some scars. Mentally and physically, it was exhausting.

Clearly, I lived through it. I survived the hell my uterus put me through. I survived cancer. I'm so thankful I survived and I'm so thankful it's gone. At the same time, the trauma of it runs deep. Some of the deeper damage from my last fall is still manifesting in the form of bruises on my leg. The damage of going through the whole uterus ordeal is still manifesting its own bruises. I went through this hell for several years. It may take several years to really mend from it.