I recently was asked to write about my thoughts and emotions whilst going through certain points of my process with Endo and while I thought it would be a natural and easy progression I was ill prepared for the feelings I was about to experience.
As usual when writing I sat down with my cup of decaf coffee and tried to collect my thoughts and pick a starting point.
Do I begin at age eleven with my first period? My years of G.P visit's? The first consultation at the hospital or the day I was diagnosed? Each moment changed me, shaped who I am and each has its own baggage and emotional attachment obviously. It's just never occurred to me until now that maybe I haven't actually dealt with things in the manner I should have. I have just steam rolled through the years accepting each treatment without question, each surgery without any real thought for what I was signing up to. I mean I never stopped and thought if any of it was the best course of action. I just took the professionals word for gold and never thought to question them.
Do I begin at age eleven with my first period? My years of G.P visit's? The first consultation at the hospital or the day I was diagnosed? Each moment changed me, shaped who I am and each has its own baggage and emotional attachment obviously. It's just never occurred to me until now that maybe I haven't actually dealt with things in the manner I should have. I have just steam rolled through the years accepting each treatment without question, each surgery without any real thought for what I was signing up to. I mean I never stopped and thought if any of it was the best course of action. I just took the professionals word for gold and never thought to question them.
It seems somewhat wreckless now when I look back. When they did take the time to explain the side effects to me I just nodded like a dog and went along with everything. I'm not too sure exactly what I would change given another chance as this would inevitably change the outcome of everything but I would like to think I would approach the situation with a little more care.
Until now I've not really given much thought to the impact my diagnosis had on my mental health. I just accepted it. It's not as if I had a choice. I wasn't shouting about it from the rooftops but there was nothing I could do to change it so the only option was to put my best foot forward and attack this invader as aggressively as I could. Sure I had horrible days which involved me becoming overwhelmed and I remember one time being placed in a maternity ward in hospital and I found this too much too handle given that I'd been told I would most like never conceive. There were nights I lay awake worrying about what lay ahead for me and times where I acted as if none of it bothered me in order to cope and get on with things.
It's a case of survival I think. We react in a way best suited to our own personal survival and whether or not it's right or wrong isn't really for anyone to say unless of course it's having a really negative effect on our lives or we're acting utterly out of character. Then I would suggest well meaning loved ones intervene at your own risk.
I'm becoming increasingly aware that I've gotten off point and I'm doing it again. A kind if deflection if you will. I will discuss Endo, the symptoms and my pain levels with anyone now. But delving into past memories is incredibly difficult for me and right now I'm not even convinced I can access everything I need to in order to complete this task.
For someone who has, in the past, been described as an over achiever, the level of frustration I am currently experiencing at my own expense grows more infuriating by the day. It's as if some part of myself is preventing me from remembering the emotions attached to the memories. I can quite coldly and fairly calculatedly sum up a serious of events and present them in a factual manner much like giving a report. I essentially remove the human element. (Think I've just hit the nail on the head here) Now to face my fears..... To be continued
