Myterus Uterus

I was debating on whether to post this or not, but I have to. It’s real. It’s where I am at right now. It’s about hormones, depression, and my uterus, so you may not want to read any further. If you are male, however, you might find it informative. Most of us are older now and have learned a lot about our bodies and those of the people we love, so maybe this is old and useless, like my tail, but I think it needs to be said.

First of all, it is no mystery that I was very unhappy in Korea. But I want to explain a further. So, here goes. To start, you have to know severe depression. If you don’t, then let me tell you that you have no control over it. Anyone who says that you do has not experienced severe depression before. You are not your usual self. You don’t think like your usual self, you don’t feel like your usual self, you don’t emote like your usual self, you don’t even move or sit like your usual self. And spiritually? Yeah, right!! That’s the depression I am talking about. If it lasts too long or it gets too weird, then you start to forget ever feeling any differently and you start to believe with all your heart that you will never feel any differently again. That leads you to completely giving up – and for some, suicide. If you haven’t experienced that, then you have not experienced the kind of depression I am talking about. It hurts and it kills your self-esteem, your sense of safety, and any hope for the future is gone. You are dead and, if you aren’t dead, you are suffering. It's the kind of illness where trite comments like, "Thirty minutes of exercise will make you feel better," "Think positively," "Just smile," or "Man it out," offend you so deeply that you consider, for the first time in your life, committing a double homicide just for the fun of it. Do you people really think that we are trying NOT to think positively, NOT exercising, NOT trying to push the sides of our mouths up into a smile, and that we aren't trying desperately to man the f&%$ing thing out? Really? Do you really think so? Because if you do, let me show my new set of Ginsu steak knives!

And why does the body torture itself so? I don’t know, people. Sigh. Google it, skim the million and one articles on it and then get back to me, could you?

But for women like me, we often wake up one morning and our hormones seem to be fluctuating. As a result, we are tense to the point of pain – a tenseness that cannot be alleviated, not even by professionals. We wake up, yet we are half asleep and can’t seem to shake it. We can’t think straight. We wake up and the entire world is wrong. Everything is wrong and, for me, disgustingly so. We feel disgusted with our bodies, our partners, our neighbors, our pets; I will even go so far as to say we are bloated, achy, and greasy. This isn’t sexy, people. I know that! But believe me, no one wants to wake up and feel like this. No one wants to spend the day scowling at people and crying every time they see the color green. But, tell my hormones this. Tell them that I am not this person. Tell them that I refuse to be treated this way. They won’t listen! Believe me, I have tried. So far I am just talking about some of the symptoms of PMS, or just stress, that I and lots of other women – although not all women, I’m sure– have experienced throughout their lives on a regular basis.

Now imagine having those symptoms for several months with no relief… and then, after about a year, throw in having self-flagellating obsessive compulsive thoughts that keep you up most of the night every night just to prolong and intensify the torture you are already enduring. Now, just for kicks, let's also throw in regular migraine headaches, complete physical exhaustion, occasional stomach pain that causes you to double over on the floor and pray to Ghod for help, extreme coldness, constant cramping, a job from hell, a pathetic dorm room for a home, and a boyfriend (and supposed best friend) that just wants to spend less and less time with you because you are, well, let’s face it, becoming more and more of a drag. Oh, now put yourself in a foreign country - in a noisy, polluted city where you can’t communicate with the people around you and all the ex-pats are freaks, geeks, and/or alcoholics. Now, tell me how much joy you could squeeze out of each day? How much happy juice could you make? Needless to say, I was very sick. Very, very sick. I lost control of my emotions and my thoughts and I had no resources to help me deal with the stress of my jobs, my living situation, and being in Seoul by myself. My boyfriend, you ask? Oh, he lived forty minutes away by subway where he could spend time with friends every day and work a very simple job at a Hogwan – no graduate degree required. He was fine, so what was my problem? When I couldn’t get out of bed for a week, he sent me to the doctor – he didn’t offer to go with me. When I was crying because I hated living alone and where I lived, he told me he didn’t want me to live with him and “spread the misery”. When I said that I couldn’t drink anymore because it was making me worse, he would make me drinks at home or want to go to a pub before dinner. I never felt more betrayed and alone in my life than I did in Korea. Now that’s depressing in the regular sense of the word!

In all fairness, I was out of my mind and my entire body was betraying me and those I loved. There were other symptoms that I won’t go into for your sake. Trust me on this, though, I was a mess. I was severely hormonally imbalanced. Why didn’t I just take anti-depressants, you ask? I did. It didn’t help. I was too far gone. I was the girl who ended up sitting on the floor in front of a bunch of naked Korean women crying for hours by myself while my boyfriend enjoyed his saunas without a care in the world – except for maybe how he was going to cut his losses. Do I sound angry? Well, I know he didn’t have the resources to handle this – neither did I. But he didn’t have to tell me that he was committed to me and then take the easy way out. He didn’t have to tell me we could leave Korea and move to Chile together and then back down from it. He didn’t have to tell me he would come to NY with me and then dump me a couple weeks later. It was impossible not to notice that there was something seriously wrong with me – yet, he just looked the other way until I got angrier and angrier which just gave him an excuse to run away. The message I was left with was: I wasn’t worth it. And that hurt. Mostly because I am worth it and I am more than the sickness that I endured during my time in Korea. It’s not fair. So they say. And yet, I was able to see clearly just how committed and capable this person really wasn’t, after all. So, in the long run, it will have saved me from many more months or years of heartache. And for that, I am deeply grateful. Besides, before I got super sick and needed surgery, we had a lot of fun together. Fun, fun, fun. And isn't that what true love is all about?

So now, I am on medication that, up until a couple of weeks ago, made me feel great. My hormones were finally balanced and I was myself again – although still very hurt and angry and dealing with a cancer scare, I was real again. Now, however, there is a new imbalance created by the medication and the side effects are kicking in. Enter the symptoms I mentioned in earlier paragraphs that described the joys of womanhood. Next week, however, I get to see my doctor again and I will find out how soon I can get off this medication and what needs to be done with my uterus. Now, I don’t know why, but I’d like to keep it. I don’t mean in a jar, but in my body. I know that I don’t need it in the traditional sense, but there are alternative uses for things, people. I mean, look at a large coffee mug – yes, it was designed to hold coffee. Fine, but it can also be used for potting a small plant. Now, I am not saying that I want to fill my uterus with dirt and seedlings, but there may be other uses for it that I am just not aware of. All I am saying is that you never know. Besides, my doctor said that it was rather small, so if I really did need it removed, a pair of pliers, a quick trip to Mexico, and a bottle of mescal should do the trick.

And Deepak Chopra is coming to town – to Syracuse. I am going. I don’t expect any profound changes to occur in my aura or anything, but I am curious to see him in person. The last book of his that I read, okay, the only book of his that I read, had some interesting ideas in it - some of which were totally worthless to me, some of which depressed me further, and others which were useful. So, as not to depress any of us further, let me tell you the useful information I gathered. It is a cute little exercise that can help you get out of your emotional rut at any time. See, you let yourself feel the emotion, let’s say it’s rage (just for fun), you then imagine that this rage gets bigger and bigger until the entire world and beyond feels it with you. Birds, bees, Gods, trees, whatever… they all feel your rage with you. Now this should make you feel less alone, possibly rather silly, and/or at least get you to lighten up a bit. I did it when I was missing British boy, terribly. I would sit and say aloud, “I miss S--,” and cry. Then I would imagine all the people around me – known and unknown to me - crying that they too missed S— as well. Then the birds in the tress would cry and say it…etc…on up to the mythical gods and goddesses of ancient Greece and Rome. Everyone was upset along with me and missed S--. It was so comical that I couldn’t help but laugh. I found this exercise to be quite worth the price of the book alone. Try it – you might like it :). If not, don’t tell me about it, tell Deepak – he’ll be here on Monday night.

No more talk of hormones, uteri, and depression, okay? You can open your eyes now. It's over.

Besides, I have to go and get another massage. I can't help it people!!!

Ima N. Payne - for reals!!
xxoo