Image: iStock.
It was an excruciatingly difficult decision as a holistic healer to bid farewell to my uterus.
When I left my husband almost six years ago, I was sick in every way. I was physically, mentally, emotionally and spiritually unhealthy.
I was deeply depressed. I was 50+ pounds heavier. I was addicted to processed foods. I woke up daily with sinus issues and was plagued with sinus infections several times a year. I lived with chronic back pain, high blood pressure, a trick knee and horrifically painful periods.
That’s a whole lot of unhealthy for a 40 year-old woman who was about the be the single mom to two young children.
I’d been giving my daughter organic foods and green smoothies since she’d been old enough to eat solid food. I knew what needed to be done. I was just too miserable to do it.
When I finally decided to heal myself, my first priority was the depression. In the process of learning to get un-depressed naturally, I just so happened to heal every other health issue I had except my raging uterus. (MM Confessions: What my lady garden looks like. Post continues after video.)
I’d been grappling with the possibility of a hysterectomy for some time, then someone would offer me free reiki, acupuncture sessions or some other miraculous holistic healing option that I would hope, for just a moment, might be my forever cure.
I sometimes got short term relief, but when I had a six week long period, followed by another two weeks later, enough was enough. I made an appointment with a surgeon.
As the magnitude of this decision became more real with the rapidly approaching surgery date, I started to panic.
I could die.
Whoa, that could happen. My spiritual side was thinking, ‘OK, whatever is meant to be. I get to go back to the perfect place and make plans to do this differently, better, next time’.
Deeply sad that my children would be raised by their dad, but knowing I would watch over them, guide and protect them from the other side as best I can, my panic attack alleviated.
Mostly…
Until I realised worse than dying, for a Passionate Sicilian Scorpio who had been celibate for quite some time, was the possibility of never being able to enjoy sex again.(Post continues after gallery.)
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This is one of those moments where you wish the internet did not exist and that Google was not your home page.
“Hysterectomy gone wrong!”
“My sex drive disappeared!”
“Sex is now just too painful!”
“I can no longer orgasm!”
Huh? What? Good God, no! I’ll do the monthly narcotics, just don’t take away orgasms!
The possibility of death was nothing compared to the full-on breakdown that occurred with the realisation that I may never again be able to enjoy the pleasures of the flesh.
It was in this moment that I decided to throw my uterus the mother of all goodbye parties. I had needs, for crying out loud, and there is a chance they will never be tended to again. I sure as hell was not leaving this game 18 months celibate.
It didn’t take me long to figure out exactly who to invite to my two person party.
We met the year before, like many other people looking for love in the 21st century, through online dating. His profile said he was an educated, spiritual professional looking for love, not the usual quick fix of the day, and wanted to take things slow.
His profile picture highlighted his perfect smile. I am a sucker for a perfect smile and his opener to me was: “Let’s do something crazy and spontaneous, let me take you to dinner tonight?”
A perfect smile attached to proper grammar and spontaneity? I was in!
Our date was positively lovely. The evening was filled with great conversation, witty banter and when he kissed me, wow, the physical chemistry was absolutely delicious. An all around wildly successful first date, until…
He invited me to go home with him “to cuddle.” (Post continues after image.)
I firmly believe that physical chemistry is like crack. The high is so totally and completely overwhelming that most can’t focus on anything else except how to get more. It’s taken me a long time to get over my addiction to that crack and to see that going slowly, searching for the intellectual, spiritual and emotional chemistry before the physical is really what I now know I need.
I politely declined, thanked him for a lovely evening and then went home never expecting to hear from him again.
When he called for a second date later in the week, I told him we were looking for different things. I explained that the physical came last for me. He explained that for him the physical was the gateway to other intimacy. We agreed to disagree, wished each other all the best in our search for love and went our separate ways.
He “coincidentally” reappeared in my life again six months later. We became good friends based on the intellectual compatibility, had a few more physical chemistry checks—he invited me over “to cuddle” many more times—and we ultimately determined that although we were both looking for love neither of us was willing to budge on the path we believed it took to get there.
Finally, even the friendship fell by the wayside, but I never forgot the way that crack made me feel.
So, when my uterus and I were determining the guest list for our party, he was the first person that came to mind.
I had never done anything like this in my life, but the panic stricken Celibate Sicilian Scorpio Party Planner was completely in control when I called him the night before surgery.
Hey! How are you? Long time, no talk. How’s work? Just got home, oh great. Had dinner yet? Just about to make it, huh? You should invite me over, make me dinner then we can watch a movie and cuddle.
Being the sweet man he is and having known me for a while, my current intent completely out of character for me, it took him a few minutes to catch on.
Finally he said: “Whoa, whoa, whoa, are you saying you want to make love with me?”
To which the Celibate Sicilian Scorpio Party Planner scheduled to have a hysterectomy at dawn the next morning replied, “Absolutely!”
The sweet, innocent man responded: “Dear God, I have been waiting over a year for you! I want to do this right. Let’s plan a weekend away. When can you go? I see a beach front balcony, candles, it will be amazing…yes, yes, yes and yes!”
Fully realising I was walking a fine line here, I replied “Oh my God yes, that sounds amazing. How about I come over and we discuss it in person.”
Once again, it took him a bit to catch on until he finally said: “What has gotten in to you? Wait, did you just break up with someone?”
Busted, totally exposed, I snapped back to reality then burst into tears and revealed my truth and fears with complete and total transparent authenticity and vulnerability.
To say it was not cute, would be a gross and vast understatement. To add that it culminated in the most earth shattering, mind-blowing explosion of long awaited pleasure would be a lie.
The reality is the entire scenario allowed me to see exactly what lengths I would go to in order to cover the profound pain of not being able to heal my precious uterus. It opened me to the deep grief of saying “goodbye” to the most feminine piece of me.
She was the permanently broken part of me from the sexual abuse I survived as a child. She was the only part of me I could not heal.
I was exhausted and anemic and she was tired of fighting. It was time to let her go. No man, no chemistry, no crack, no cover could make me deny that any longer.
When I woke post-op it was like a boulder had been removed from my center. The last remaining darkness of the violations I endured as a child were now gone, that empty space at my core open and ready to be filled with forgiveness, love and light.
I felt immense relief. I apologised to her over and over for not being able to fix her. I cried silent tears for the pain, sadness and disappointment we endured together in our journey, my uterus and me, then I thanked her for letting me go.
An entire childhood of sadness went with her as I said goodbye and, ultimately, this party ended like most do, with a glorious new beginning filled with hope and promise of what is to come.