Posts

Don’t you forget about me...

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Did you read the title? Are you singing with me? Hi, you’re my people. Anyway, let’s get down to business. I know it’s been a while since my last post—it’s been a crazy whirlwind of recovering from the excision surgery and presacral neurectomy (or PSN, which is much easier), trying to finish this master’s degree (two months left!), working full-time and traveling for said job, running my side biz, AND judging... Whew. But since today begins Endometriosis Awareness Month, I thought it would be a good time to let you know what’s been going and also remind you that March is Endometriosis Awareness Month! 💛 So, my surgery went well. According to my doctor, there was a lot more damage than he expected. He went well over the time he had allotted for the surgery: He originally set aside two hours for it but told Dave he didn’t think it would take more than an hour, hour and a half, tops. It ended up taking three. But he did a really thorough job. He removed endo from under my ovaries, be
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Failing Up

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I know it's been a while since I've posted an update here, but so much has been going on, and I've been trying to process my feelings and come to terms with everything, which hasn't been easy. I should have just started writing this post to begin with—writing is how I truly process things anyway. I'm not sure where to begin, so I'll start with the bottom line: I quit the trial. I feel so ashamed of myself that I couldn't finish it, that I couldn't push through and stick it out. I feel like I have failed myself, failed my readers, and failed my endo community. I have been considering quitting the trial for a few months now. I think I've mentioned that before, but I was trying to push through, telling myself it would get better. But here's the thing: It wasn't getting better. It seemed like the longer I was on the drug, the worse I got. Cramping and stabbing pains every day. Bleeding almost every day. Days I was so tired, getting out of bed s
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I DID THE THANG

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So, this post is not really about endo—endo is not the main character, anyway—but, hey, it's my blog and I can do what I want. Anyway, this blog is about my life with endo and my life in the drug trial, and this particular post is about ME, so it's all relevant. Oh, hai. It's me.  ANYWAY... Instead of the normal endo doom and gloom, today I bringest thou good news: Remember that big scary test I was worried about last time? Wellll, I PASSED! After incessantly checking my email every, oh, 5 seconds for the past 2.5 weeks, I finally got my results. And. I. Passed. You are now talking to a Level 10 judge. In case you're not familiar with gymnastics, it's kind of a big deal. Be happy for me. Or not. It's your life. All that happiness aside, I do need to admit to you that I have some regrets about my trip to Providence (where I went for USA Gymnastics National Congress and also to take the test). I know people always say things like, "No regrets!&qu
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Thank you for being a friend...

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If you read the title and automatically started singing the theme song for The Golden Girls in your head (bonus points for singing out loud), congratulations, you are my people. I'm happy to report that for the past few days, I have been able to answer "None" or "Mild" when my e-diary asks me how much endo pain I've had for the day. Which is a relief because most of the past 4-5 weeks have been absolutely horrendous, pain-wise. Even though I was at the beach for our epic annual Weaver-Clark Family Vacation (I'm making t-shirts next year, guys—consider yourselves warned), and then in Nashville for our big Posh convention, and then Dave and I went to the Kesha & Macklemore concert (AMAZING, btw), and now I'm traveling again (currently in the midst of a four-hour layover as I travel to Providence for USA Gymnastics National Congress), and it looked (looks?) like I am having a blast (not gonna lie, I was and am), I have also been pushing through
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The Real Deal

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Recently, I've had some pretty nasty flare-ups, and the old frustration is creeping back in. I have to go to extreme measures to get any semblance of relief. And if that relief comes, it's often fleeting. These flare-ups make me feel trapped in my own body, hopeless and desperate. I was really hoping that participating in this trial would give me some relief, but it's honestly hard to say if it has. Sometimes it feels like maybe it is, but then other times... Well, other times, I have weeks like last week where I'm in so much pain I can barely function, but I have to force myself to function because I have to fly home from a business trip so I buy every single pack of Aleve from an airport kiosk then spend an hour sitting on the toilet and crying quietly in the bathroom. I have so many thoughts and feelings, it's honestly hard to put them into words, so this week I'm giving you a photo blog. This is me. This is how I feel. This is my real life, not my Facebook
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Livin' My Best (Double) Life

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Social media is a funny thing, don't you think? I've been thinking lately about how it lets you create almost a double life for yourself—there's the life that you present on social media, be it Facebook, Snapchat, Insta, Twitter, whatever, and then there's your actual life that you lead every day. So, if you have people who follow you on your social media accounts who actually don't know you very well in real life (and let's be real, who doesn't stalk at least one person on Facebook??), you can make your life look like a freaking fairy tale. Or, on the other hand, you can be overly negative and have everyone thinking that your life is falling apart when, in reality, the worst thing that happened to you today was that coffee mug that you didn't need but bought from Amazon anyway was delivered one day later than expected (THE HORROR). Take me, for example. I try not to be too serious on my various social media accounts. I try to be funny and positive a
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"You're killin' me, Smalls!"

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"Smalls" in this case being my ever-loving e-diary. If you've ever hung out with me at night, you've seen me pull it out of my purse, probably shake my head at it, then fill it out and throw it violently back into my purse. I've been asked why I have a second phone. If you didn't ask me, you were probably shaking your head like, Mmmmmhmmmmm . That's okay; it looks like one. It also has an alarm on it that I can't turn off, so it goes off every night at 7:00 p.m., whether or not I've already filled it out for the day. Sometimes, the additional reminder alarms go off at 7:30 and then again at 8:00, even if I filled it out at 7:00. This is not supposed to happen, but hey, technology, right? Except consistency... And if I forget to fill it out before 11:00 p.m., well, all bets are off for that day. If I get busy, or if I fall asleep, or if I go out and I forget to bring it with me and I get back home at 11:01 p.m., no dice. It counts for the next
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