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I’ve Been Bleeding

When the doctors told me it would take one to two years to heal, I didn’t believe them. I do now.

(Well-Being Update) I’ve been spotting. I went to a new GYN doctor in San Diego and she was great. She said she needed more data to say why I’m bleeding. She thinks it’s I’m still healing. She said not to worry.

I’m not worried just disappointed.

We ordered all of my records from my bio-identical hormone doctor and my emergency hysterectomy doctor. I have a follow-up in two weeks.

I washed clothes this morning. Paid bills. Worked out. Drank water. Wrote. Can’t really talk to people right now. I can feel the tears behind my eyes and don’t have the wherewithal to explain myself.

When the doctors told me it would take one to two years to heal, I didn’t believe them.

I do now.

We are getting me a new therapist next week.

Happy is my joy.

He wakes me up by licking my elbow so I can take my pills and get out of bed. 
It’s hard to remember things. 


I walk five miles a day, being with myself. God. 
Life.

I sit in silence a lot.

Everything takes longer right now than it used to.

I’ve become more comfortable with Happy wearing his “Service Animal” paraphilia. He looks cute in red and yellow. 😊

I’m sad again.

Nothing bad. 
No request.

Just a bone deep sense of loss that leaves me feeling hollow inside.

I know God is good and got me—so please… don’t…

Stress hurts my body. My bones literally ache. People don’t get that. They relate like I’m well based on the 30-45 minutes they see me doing a live stream.

I’m best in the mornings. Answering email can take hours. Regular stress hurts. Sometimes I feel like a tank of gas. I run out by 4pm. If I’m stressed I’m in bed by 8pm.

EVERYTHING takes energy. Even thinking. Talking. Breathing.

Everything but writing.

There’s nothing to do but take my time and continue to heal.

So many people who I thought were for me but were not… only for themselves…

I wonder what it would feel like to be loved by people big enough to house all of me. Big rooms, each one the size of a cathedral, majestic, bejeweled and rare.

Each cathedral would house a different piece of me: the streets; Stanford; violence; vulnerability; rich; poor; kink; Christian; audacious; alone; unattached; intense; loyal; leaver; genius; legally handicap; charismatic; ugly; self-love; self-hate; believer; blasphemer.

And each room would weep. 

Cray for me tears that will not fall from my face.

The cathedral tears would turn into precious stones, priceless. Treasures hard won.

Yeah… I like m weeping cathedrals… 😊

(Inhale)

The silence feels like warm silk.

I have no words that I can say.

So, I write.

And that is enough.

For now… it’s more than enough.

I surrender the night.

I’m going to hug my puppy now. 

To remember that I am loved and I’m not alone in this world.

All is well.

We’ll try again tomorrow…

Thanks for witnessing.

I love you

vor

#hysterectomy #sad #truthteller #tellingthetruth

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