Strength and Vulnerability
As many of you know I had a hysterectomy on 8/24/09. It was so hard, much harder than I thought it would be. I was so sure it would be no big deal and that's what I told everyone. For the first time in many, many years I found myself wanting my mother. I wanted someone other than my sons to take care of me. For just a little bit, I wanted someone else to be in charge and just be cared for.
The morning of the surgery, after all the diarrhea and vomitting during the night, I was in a panic. I had to get it together. I took a xanax and pulled myself up. I couldn't show Sam how scared and upset I was and I didn't want anyone else to know. It was my boss doing the surgery. I got dressed and put on a necklace that a patient had given me. It was a cross and she had it blessed by the bishop before giving it to me. It made me feel better knowing that someone cared enough about me to get it blessed. For a brief moment itr was like having a mother with me. I was strong, tough and I could do it. And no matter what I would not cry, complain, or show my weaknesses.
I got through it and Sam brought me home the next day. The gas pains were horrible and even though I complained some, I still did not cry. I made dinner every night and I was still in charge. I was strong, tough and did not cry. I walked every day and by the third day, I walked 3 miles. I was going to heal quicker than anyone.
Thursday Ben came home and Sam went back to college and 2 weeks after surgery I went back to work and I was so sad. I was sad because I was tired. I was sad because Sam had to take care of me and no 19 yo young man should have to care for his mother with female problems. I was sad because I was now half a woman, and no man would ever want me. I was sad because it had been so hard and I was sad that I felt the need to go back to work so soon. I was sad because I wasn't allowed to swim or lifting weights and I could feel my muscles weaken. I was sad because even though I walked every day, it was never enough. I was sad because my belly reminded me of Wonder Bread, all soft and squishy. Wait, I was strong and tough and I wasn't going to cry. What the hell was I sad about? I had started on hormone replacement the day after my surgery so I knew it wasn't hormonal. I was stronger than this.
A very wise man once told me that there was strength in asking for help and in showing vulnerability. I question why I am opening myself up by writing this, but maybe it's ok to show myself to people that I love and who love me. Maybe, just maybe he's right. And guess what, I am still healing and it's ok. I'm not the toughest and I don't need to be and I have shed lots of tears. I'm human and sometimes I'm vulnerable and sometimes I need help.
The morning of the surgery, after all the diarrhea and vomitting during the night, I was in a panic. I had to get it together. I took a xanax and pulled myself up. I couldn't show Sam how scared and upset I was and I didn't want anyone else to know. It was my boss doing the surgery. I got dressed and put on a necklace that a patient had given me. It was a cross and she had it blessed by the bishop before giving it to me. It made me feel better knowing that someone cared enough about me to get it blessed. For a brief moment itr was like having a mother with me. I was strong, tough and I could do it. And no matter what I would not cry, complain, or show my weaknesses.
I got through it and Sam brought me home the next day. The gas pains were horrible and even though I complained some, I still did not cry. I made dinner every night and I was still in charge. I was strong, tough and did not cry. I walked every day and by the third day, I walked 3 miles. I was going to heal quicker than anyone.
Thursday Ben came home and Sam went back to college and 2 weeks after surgery I went back to work and I was so sad. I was sad because I was tired. I was sad because Sam had to take care of me and no 19 yo young man should have to care for his mother with female problems. I was sad because I was now half a woman, and no man would ever want me. I was sad because it had been so hard and I was sad that I felt the need to go back to work so soon. I was sad because I wasn't allowed to swim or lifting weights and I could feel my muscles weaken. I was sad because even though I walked every day, it was never enough. I was sad because my belly reminded me of Wonder Bread, all soft and squishy. Wait, I was strong and tough and I wasn't going to cry. What the hell was I sad about? I had started on hormone replacement the day after my surgery so I knew it wasn't hormonal. I was stronger than this.
A very wise man once told me that there was strength in asking for help and in showing vulnerability. I question why I am opening myself up by writing this, but maybe it's ok to show myself to people that I love and who love me. Maybe, just maybe he's right. And guess what, I am still healing and it's ok. I'm not the toughest and I don't need to be and I have shed lots of tears. I'm human and sometimes I'm vulnerable and sometimes I need help.
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