When The Wind Blows

The gown, the socks, the hair net, the bed, the same hospital, the same amazing doctor…I did this 3 times. I’m a "pro" but ….this wasn’t for a baby.

I wasn’t as strong. I tend to joke around when I’m nervous. I get giddy and crack jokes complaining about silly things, making fun of myself. It was harder this time. The nervous anxious feeling paralleled but there was no excitement for the end result. I wouldn’t be having a new little life to look at.

The strength to fake it didn’t feel worth it.

The quiver in my voice and the ball in my throat as they wheeled me back couldn’t be swallowed because this was for no one else. This was just for me- for me to be healthy. For me to make sure there wasn't something harmful growing in my body- to eliminate cancer- to eliminate complications in the future.

I was removing a clump of questionable tissue from the same place that housed all my babies- ones on earth and ones that didn't make it. That beautiful sac of a mess that did glorious, unexplainable things now needed that same doctor to go back in there and get something out that wasn’t so beautiful.

How is this happening? I’m healthy. Sure, I drink alcohol and consume copious amounts of french fries but I do my best to take care of myself, amidst these crazies and I’m 35. I’m not ancient but…

I feel damaged, old, and broken.

As humans, we stifle these low moments. We don’t re-share because they aren’t good stories- they’re scary as f**k. We get through them. We bury them. We move on. Do we hide them because we don’t want to scare others? Or is it because when we speak of them we scare ourselves? The truth is- we all go through this. This is life. You won’t see some social media post about this so we are left to believe that Skinny Sally and Jolly Joe and their 2 gorgeously annoying as hell intelligent kids never have months like this but the truth is- they do. I promise.

Sure- maybe it isn’t the uterus. Maybe it’s a biopsy or a removal of breast tissue. Maybe you need a procedure to ensure a particular cancer in your family doesn’t manifest in you. Maybe you are told you have a new medical condition that inhibits your normal day to day. Maybe you're in physical chronic pain. Maybe you need a surgery just to consider having children or…to stay alive yourself. You're not alone.

We all have scary times. Some last for months or days, some are years where people must continue to get up every single day and push through that ball in their throat. I see you. I think about you daily. We are all hiding our low moments. We may go quiet for some time. We may cry when we don’t want to but

You’re not alone.

Sorry if this delves too deep in the figurative world but I often paint a picture in my head during times when I fight the desire for self-pity. The picture reminds me of the way a leaf may move when the wind blows. Yeah, told ya it was deep🤣 Hang on.

On one side of the leaf is our smooth, gentle side. The side that faces the sun. The side that gets washed with every rain storm. The side that may seek more attention: The prettier side. The side that most others see. The side we allow others to see.

Then there's the hidden underside that we may flip to as the wind blows. On this side our veins are visible. What makes us tick. What holds us together or maybe what's making us fall apart. What we're worried about. It's less smooth. That's our badass side. It doesn't get the direct sun or the morning dew. It lives on the darker side of the leaf- showing it's side during only our more trying days. That's our side we often face downward. Only our closest "leaf neighbors" may get a glimpse of this side and maybe only when a particular wind blows.

There are some leaves that experience a large storm-much larger than any of mine- and are stuck on this veiny side. I've thought about you a lot through my recent minor wind storm. You've been here for a while- exposed. You put on a fake smile for all your leaf neighbors who are worried that you're "flipped". Hang in there. Your gust will settle. You're not alone either.

This surgery was a few weeks ago and I am fine. Pathology report came back- benign- some unexplainables but I'm free to be me and move on. This was a blip in the life story- one that I'm sure I'll even forget- but a movement, a brain cloud, a "wind" for the last few months. I am not damaged or old or broken. I am imperfect, just as the rest of the world.

My woes are SO very small. I had a few that were the best of the best who allowed me to show my "poor me" side but because of them and the fact that my storm was short, not many others knew. I hope I can be that person to others. I hope we all strive to open our doors with just enough vulnerability, understanding that we all have a veiny side.

I share this story because I feel it is relatable to just about everyone. Unfortunately we only know about a fraction of the stories and as a result are left to wallow in our wind blows.

So I'll leave you with a camp counselor saying from my high school days…

Get up.

"It's a beautiful day. It's great to be alive."

xohboys

mandi