Vulnerability

I'm posting this, coming to you in my rarest form. Hair a mess, mascara stained lids, no filter, just me. After a long day, a night filled with friends, laughter, alcohol, and bonfires... all I wanted was to rinse the smoke off my body and climb into bed. My daughter had other ideas for this. After putting her back to bed twice she appears at the shower door tears in her eyes. I ask her what's going on and she says she wants to shower too. (I had put them right to bed since we got home so late.)

I have never been one to hide my body around my children so she climbs into the shower with me. I held her little body against me and sacrificed the warmth of the water so she wouldn't get cold. I washed us both all the while letting her stand under the shower absorbing all its heat. I got out of the shower dripping wet and freezing to get her a towel. I dried her while I shivered in the cold air because the heater had not yet filled our house with warmth.  

Suddenly it occurred to me. There are so many things in my life I am willing to sacrifice for my children. I sacrificed my body, my schooling, my career, my social life, my private time, my sanity, my bed, and even my warm late night shower. All for two people who won't understand it until they have children of their own. I do this selfless act and many more like it everyday for my children so they know and have the best of everything. 

I can't promise my daughter that she won't get heart broken, I can't promise she won't loose friends, I can't promise her so many things. But what I can promise her is to be strong. I can show her that no matter how many times you get knocked down you get back up and fight back. You protect the ones you love. I hope my daughter never has to experience life like I have. I hope she never has to deal with the  sexual abuse I faced. I hope she never has to be mentally abused and broken beyond repair. I hope she never has to get up one morning qnd stand in the shower trying to scrub off the pain and anguish off her body after being raped. I hope all these things for her. I hope them all so much for her because I know what it's like to have experienced them. But most of all I hope she doesn't have to fight.

I hope that she doesn't have to fight for equality. I hope she doesn't have to fight for fair pay. I hope she doesn't have to fight for her life. I hope she never has to fight a man off of her. I hope she never has to be objectified, cat-called or harassed. I hope all of these things for her but I know that for those things to come true, change has to start somewhere.

There are so many stories I've held in for so long. I've lived a life never wanting people to know how broken I am inside. I hide my scars, invisible and not. I push people away, lovers and friends. When people ask me if I'm ok I say of course. Today someone told me that I would say that even if I wasn't. I was told that nobody would really know what was going on with me because I dont let people in.

Lately people have been telling me how distant and cold I've seemed for so many years. What I thought was me being independent was not taken that way by others. What I have realized recently but still can't seem to practice is that being vulnerable doesn't mean you are weak. Asking for help doesn't make you a wimp.

It took my daughter climbing into the shower with me. It took her climbing into my bed after this saying "Mommy can you wrap your body around me again to keep me warm like you did last night?" Her asking this didn't make her week. Her vulnerability didn't make her a wimp. It made her look strong to admit she just wanted the love of her mother. This was something I was more than willing to give. I gave it so easily. It was so easy for me to help her, to love her, when she asked that of me...

So tomorrow, I have decided I will be vulnerable. I will let my guard down. Let people in. I will accept help and at the same time ask for it. I will practice this not to seem weak, but to feel stronger. To know that my fight doesn't have to be fought alone.

Post Hysterectomy Periods

Before my hysterectomy periods were bad. They have been all my life, it comes with the hemophilia territory. After I had kids they got worse. I was suddenly allergic to my own blood and couldn't wear tampons. Yeah my periods turned into a month long process. When I would finally heal from my last period my new one would start. It was superrrrrrr, thanks Lily. It's all her fault. Everything changed the most after her, she was my mother's curse after all.

But now that I have had my uterus and cervix removed a year ago you would think things would be different. I mean, no more periods right!?!  WRONG! The periods still come, minus the blood of course. But I'd almost prefer the blood over what I get now. It doesn't happen every month and I've read that it will get better but when my period comes... it's bad.

Take last night for example. I went to bed with the most minor amount of discomfort knowing that it's that time of the month again. I have been more agitated and hungry lately so when the minor cramps came I put three and three together and figured: it's period time. The pain was barely there so I didn't feel the need to take anything. BIG MISTAKE.  Five am I wake to excruciating pain. Something was inside my stomach stabbing me. My hemorrhoid was throbbing so bad I swore I had to poop but I didn't have to. There was just so much pressure that I didn't even know what was wrong. My back was aching and my chest hurt so bad I could barely breathe. I was sweating harder than if I ran a marathon but I could barely feel my toes I'm was so cold.

I whimpered as I walked hunched over into the kitchen. I moaned as I reached up to the cabinet above the fridge to grab the midol. By the time I made it into the bathroom to try to pee to relieve the pressure I was doing Lamaze breathing. It took everything I had to hoist my lower half up and drag myself back into my bedroom.

My pants were putting to much pressure on me so I changed into light underwear. My teeth were chattering because I was so cold but I could barely see what I was doing with all the sweat dripping down my face into my eyes. I finally collapsed back into bed and still had to yank out the heating pad that I keep under the bed all the time for this very reason. Mike rolled over next to me knowing exactly what was going on. I'd told him earlier in the night that it's that time of month again.  He knew there was a possibility it could get this bad. It does sometimes, ever since my hysterectomy this happens every few months.

My cramps were never this bad, ever. And I had some doozies. Thanks to my bleeding disorder I could bleed so much I'd have to change a pad in twenty minutes. So I know about bad period cramps. This stuff I experience post hysterectomy is not bad period cramps. It's freaking murder. You ever have really bad food poisoning? I'd take that vomiting and diarrhea over the cramps I have now.

You would think after they take out your cervix and uterus that you would be in the clear. I mean no more blood right? And if there's no more blood then that means no more cramping. WRONG. See, the problem is they left my ovaries. They gave me that whole its better to leave them in so you don't start early menopause crap. I'm pretty sure hot flashes and facial hair are a better option than debilitating cramps. That's just me though.

In case your confused because you really don't understand how you can have cramps without having a uterus because you're sure that's where the pain was coming from. It's not. The pain comes from your ovaries and the amount of hormones they output during ovulation. If you don't believe me here is just one of many articles about this: http://www.jamaicaobserver.com/magazines/allwoman/Period-cramps-after-hysterectomy- 

So now that you have read that to check, because for whatever reasons you didn't believe me. You understand my shock when my first post hysterectomy period happened and I was doubled over in pain. All the research I have done says that after a year the pain should get better. Well I'm going on a year and two months. Not better yet. But maybe at a year and three months it will magically change? Maybe?

I stopped shaving

For 2 weeks I decided to stop shaving to see what the hype was all about.

Ok. That's a lie. I didn't stop because I wanted to I stopped shaving because I had to. I'm not going to say why because right now because that isn't the point. The point is that I stopped shaving. For two weeks I didn't shave anything. I was finally in the whole "feminist power" trend. Because somehow some people think your anti-feminist if you shave (WTF?).

So there I was, a hairy beast. Conforming to the new "trend" even if I didn't want to. I got to feel what all the hype was about. I got to see what was so great about not worrying about shaving my hair, anywhere. I got to feel liberated because I wasn't having to worry about taking a half hour to shave my body. It was nice, not having to shave. Really nice. Except for the fact that I was hairy. I was a hairy freaking beast!

I endured 2 weeks of hair. Lots and lots of hair. And I came to the conclusion that I would rather shave and risk spreading the wart colony that has taken place on my leg then suffer through another day of hair. So I shaved and I felt liberated! It took me what seemed like five minutes, maybe longer (because the hair was long) but the point is it didn't seem like it took long, not like it used to seem. Suddenly shaving didn't seem like a big deal. It no longer felt like I chore! 

I am free! And somehow (this is the shocker) I'm still a feminist. I'm a feminist who hates hair. I don't conform to social standards because girls should shave. I proved I didn't have to shave. I proved I could go without it. But I didn't like going without it. Because honestly, I hate hair. Like I really really really really hate hair. If there were a way that I could wish away all of my hair except for my eyebrows and head hair I would. But I wouldn't stop there! I would wish away all of Mikes hair except his eyebrows and chest hair (I loooove that chest hair). And then I would wish all of my kids hair aside from their eyebrows and head hair away to. Because I don't just hate my own body hair I hate other people's body hair. 

BUT even if I only hated my hair would that really make me any less of a feminist? Because I "conform" to social standards does that really change how I feel inside? Ummm, let me think. NO! So, I thought I would use this forced time to express how you can still be a feminist while "conforming" to social standards. You don't have to be the unique 1% to believe women have a right to choose. I believe anyone should choose whether they want to shave or not. I'll think they are disgusting for not shaving but that's my opinion and I wont stop them. But I wont be joining that movement anytime soon. Unless you know, these warts don't go away and I have to not shave again for a few weeks. But then there's always Nair...

Pulse

I never wrote about the shootings at Pulse Nightclub.

Ok, that's not true. I wrote about it. I just never posted it. I couldn't seem (no matter how hard I tried) to get out what I wanted to say. Nothing felt right. It all felt forced, everything I typed felt wrong. I wanted to tell people how upset I was but that didn't seem like enough. I didn't want to make this tragedy about me because it wasn't. Yes, it was about the people of my community, it happened practically in my backyard. 

But I didn't feel like any of that related to me. I felt like nothing I said would be good enough. I felt like nothing I said would have expressed how miserable and shaken I was by what happened that night. Do you know I never watch the news? Like never. I watched the news more in that week after the shooting than I have in the past six years of my life. I don't think I've watched the news that much since 9-11. I hate the news. I hate it. But I had to watch it. I had to. Even though I know the news is full of lies I had to watch it. 

Maybe I just needed to cry? I cried a lot. I shed so many tears for all the family and friends of the victims of the shooting. I spent so much time trying so hard not to tell my kids what a disgusting world we live in. I tried to smile and be happy because I didn't them to know I was sad or crying. I didn't want to risk them asking what was wrong and then feel like I had to lie to them. Because I would have, I would have lied. Which I try not to do to my kids. I try to be honest with them. I try not to let them walk around with scarlet colored glasses on.

I teach my kids about the truth of our history. I teach them that we live on land that was stolen by our ancestors. I teach them the truth of how we are killing our earth. I teach them how to help care for our earth. I teach them to appreciate what they have. I teach them about stranger danger and what can happen if a strangers gets you. I teach them about all these truths of our world but I could not teach them about hate. Because that's what happened that night at Pulse, hate. I will not teach my children hate. I will teach them honesty, forgiveness, love, compassion, humility, humor, and respect but I will not teach them how to hate.

And to tell them about what happened that day would be teaching them to hate. Because no matter how people word it, what happened that day was hate. No matter how people twist it, what we feel for that man is hate. What we feel for the people who didn't notice the signs earlier is anger. What we feel for his family is pity. What we feel for the families of the victims is sorrow. I don't want to teach those feelings to my kids. Not yet. I want them to believe that this world is a good place. 

I want my kids to watch a movie and for me to say that fighting they are doing is pretend. That doesn't happen in real life. I want them to be ignorant to very few things in life but this is one of them. I will keep my children young and innocent for as long as possible. When the time comes for them to understand I will tell them. I will teach them about that day because god knows the history books probably wont. 

I will teach them everything about that day but what I will emphasize most is the love. The love that I feel for all of the families of the victims. The love I feel for my LGBTQ+ community. The love I feel for the people who stood up for my community. The love we need to heal our broken society. I will teach my children how to love so that they will never ever run the risk of becoming anything like that monster. 

I will teach my children truth.

I will teach my children love.

I will teach them that even though there are bad people out there it does not mean that our world is bad. 

I will teach my children hope.

I have hope that our world can get better. I have hope that the next generation will be the best generation because I will influence as many young minds as possible to make the place my children grow up the best place possible.

I am sorry for all of the victims and families of victims from the Pulse massacre. I cant begin to imagine what any one of you are and have been going through. Not a day goes by that I don't think about that awful night. I didn't know anybody there that night but it doesn't make my heart hurt any less. My thoughts are with all the families as they continue to grieve.