Tuesday, February 9, 2021

Day 1 Post-News - 02/09/2021

If you have not already done so, please read the post "The Story". It will provide much-needed context. Also, the same warnings apply and will continue to do so for as long as this blog runs.

I slept like shit last night. While there was nothing particular in the forefront of my mind, I'm sure that I was subconsciously dealing with the feelings. So I did the only logical thing. I called in sick and called my therapist. I knew I could have waited until next week for a therapy session, but if I didn't have to, I didn't intend to. Luckily, my therapist had an opening, and we talked about what's going on in my head.

First and foremost, I'm very happy. There's finally a light at the end of the proverbial tunnel. (Yes, it's a vagina joke. Get over it.) I'm also very relieved. Two decades of pain and other extremely unpleasant symptoms can finally be resolved. And yet, there's something gnawing at me. It's not doubt; I haven't changed my mind about my stance on children for a second. It's not fear; I've looked up every possible outcome of this surgery, and even the "bad" possibilities aren't really all that bad. Unpleasant, sure, but still less unpleasant than what I've been dealing with thus far, so...fuck it. So what exactly is my problem?

Well, honestly, it's that for the past 14 years, I've been fighting for control of my body. I've been dealing with anger, frustration, and resentment towards people in gynecology, in insurance, and in this fucking patriarchal society. 14 years of having my symptoms downplayed, written off as normal PMS, or ignored completely. 14 fucking years of people, mostly men, but also women, telling me that I can't make decisions about my own body. This battle that I've been fighting has been such a huge part of my life that it's become pretty much integral to who I am as a person. It's been nearly a decade and a half of this Sisyphean hell, and now, suddenly, very unexpectedly, the fight is over. I've won. And I'm not sure what to do now.

I imagine this is what Inigo Montoya felt after killing the Six Fingered Man.  “You know, it's very strange. I have been in the revenge business so long, now that it's over, I don't know what to do with the rest of my life.” And this is the situation in which I find myself. This thing that has been a part of my life for so long, this anger and hate that has shaped me, is done.

It's going to take me a little while to figure out what this change means for me. There's no question that I will continue to fight for ALL women (and men, and nonbinary persons) to have the same bodily autonomy that I have finally been afforded. But I do have to find a way to let go of all of that anger. That's going to take time. And in the meanwhile, I'll be writing down the process here as I go through it. Partially because my therapist wants me to journal. Partially because I think it might actually help me figure my shit out. And partially because if there's a chance that I can help even one person deal with their shit more effectively than I have, it's something that I absolutely must do.

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