Then I see those two little scars on my pelvis, and I remember again.
I will always have Endometriosis. I will always have those scars. I will always have hormonal issues to face as I get older and as I begin to enter a time where having children begins to cross my mind. I will always be fighting, that is the role I have been given - the fighter. The truth is, I cannot forget about my disease. I cannot pretend it doesn't exist. I cannot imagine I am all cured. I cannot ignore the fact I ever was sick. I have Endometriosis. I have gone through stages of being a 23 year old and having a hormonal imbalance that throws the body and mind into chaos. I was scared, angry, depressed, and finally - acceptant. I have now realized I lived 12 years of my life with a pain I thought every woman felt. I avoided things that I now regret missing as I grew up. Sports, sleepovers, bike riding, pool parties, borrowing friends clothes, even sitting at my desk at school for long periods of time left me with a fear of embarrassing stains, sudden pains, or having to stop to go to the bathroom every 30 min (yes, every 30 min). I always felt like I couldn't trust my body to behave. I missed things because I didn't know what would happen. I declined things because I convinced myself it didn't bother me to miss them. I pretended it was just my personality. I would say I was not a "social person" or a "home-body". I ignored the stabbing pains and the mood swings. I ignored the sadness I felt at being left out of deeper relationships with people because I was to embarrassed or ashamed. I would pretend I didn't have Endometriosis. It got worse every year until my body erupted and I could no longer ignore it. This is what I have to remember when I begin to feel I can just pretend I don't have Endometriosis anymore. That I can convince myself that I can go on like I never had it at all. It's there. What I have learned is that I can help my body in it's ability to fend for itself when symptoms arise. I can help my mind be able to fend off negative thoughts when things got hard. I could surround myself with people who provided encouragement instead of pushing them away. I exercise. I eat my veggies. I pray. I engage myself. I talk to my doctor about new signs or problems. I take my medicines. I stay off message boards due to my tendency to become a hypochondriac, or spend time researching the scary things about my disease. I look at my body everyday and I tell myself how much I love it, not because of my waist size or my breast or what it's physical appearance can do for me, but because it has been through so much and still doesn't give up. It pushes. Together my body and I fight my disease. I provide it with good food, love, and time everyday dedicated to strengthening itself and it gives back the ability to run for miles, lift over my own my body weight, and walk miles uphill without become tired. It has been through ruptures, years of pain, overweight pounds to carry, a diet of 99% fast food and sodas, then bad dieting habits, over exercise, starvation, surgery, more starvation, then menopause. Yet... in the end, it forgave me. As soon as I began to love my body, it loved me back. I don't mean that exercising made everything better, its bigger than that. Exercising was only a part of it, but loving my body was what changed everything. I began to exercise to strengthen my body, not to eliminate the calories from the bowl of yogurt I had for lunch or lose weight. I began to exercise because I loved my body and I didn't want it to have to go through that pain and weakness again. I want to protect it. Then, I changed the way I ate to accommodate the way I exercised. I was lifting heavy things so I needed heavier foods. I re-introduced almond butter, bananas, turkey, chicken, potatoes, eggs, spinach, bread, rice, protein shakes, oatmeal!
This is when things got hard.
You see for the past year my mind-set was on losing weight or keeping it off. I was 120lbs and 17% body fat. I wasn't skinny, I was tiny. I was able to be that tiny for a year because of my constant calorie counting and monitoring with my scale. I can still remember the moment I realized I had made a hollow goal for myself. I was in a popular apparel store and I was trying on pants and I went to slip on my normal size only to realize that they sat to large, I needed the next size down - 0. I pulled them on and buttoned the top, perfect fit. I bought the pants and drove home ready for my life of utter happiness and perfection to begin. I was hit with the stunning reality that those pants brought me nothing. They didn't change anything. My life was the same, I was just living it smaller. Worse, my body was beginning to fight back. I looked disproportionate, my hair thinned, I poked people with my bones when I gave them hugs. I was tired and crabby most of the time, I was hungry all of the time. I saw that being thin didn't magically turn my life or my own vision of myself into something perfect. I felt uncomfortable in my body and unaware of how to handle my new size. I had no curves, no breast, no butt, and no hips. I lost my shape. I knew the answer was to put back on some weight, but my mind just didn't seem to think this was an option. How do I go against everything I had just fought so hard for this entire year? I was utterly afraid to begin eating more, but I was so unhappy I knew I could not maintain this lifestyle. I was tired and mean and weak and unhappy. I was destroying relationships and I was destroying my body. I was forcing myself to relive the same pain I had felt before losing weight, only this time it was my own mindset that was the disease. I would spend nights crying and then going out and eating as much as possible until I became sick. I would do this every couple of days. My fiancé, who begged me to change my eating habits and just gain weight then offered me another solution to gaining weight. When I was cleared to do so safely by my doctor I would began working out with him. He told me he wanted me off the treadmill everyday and to start lifting some weights, nothing big, just some hand weights. I agreed, and together we walked to the large dumpster outside my dorm and threw away my scale.
It has been two months and it was the BEST decision I ever made.
I fought hard. I cried. I binged. I cried. I lifted. I binged. I restricted. I got caught. I lifted. I binged, I cried. I lifted. I overate. I biked. I ate. I lifted. I ate. I ran. I ate. I gained 20lbs without adding more than an inch to my waist.
Together we sat down and made a workout plan for us to begin to build muscle and strengthen ourselves. We pushed each other in the gym and we encouraged each other. We became each others biggest cheerleaders and competition in the gym. I learned to be able to listen to his directions and corrections and put down my pride long enough to ask questions or ask for him to show me the proper form. We began boasting about the things the other one could do better in the gym. I can run for miles without stopping, and he can lift bigger and heavier things. Even his nickname for me, "Fish", comes from my ability to swim and tread water for a long time. We made meals together and we got healthy together. Soon, my legs got thicker, my butt returned, my shoulders wider and my arms more defined. I was getting strong. I looked in the mirror and my heart soared. I loved how I looked and I loved how I felt. I had put back on twenty pounds, half of what I lost and the world didn't end. I cried, but the world didn't end.
Everyday isn't a walk in the park. 5:30 workouts suck and that moment between my alarm going off and my feet hitting the floor I am 89% sure I'll just skip or go later. Then I think about that waffle I get if I just put my feet on the floor and the waffles win, just kidding. You see... sitting beside my bed is my ID bracelet, the one I had to wear for a month in case something happened and I had to be rushed to the hospital. It has all my information on it and a code that would inform doctors of all my updated medical information. I look at my bracelet and I tell myself to remember why I do this. Remember you have Endometriosis and PCOS, and fight it. Work it for the ladies who can't. Work it for those who will always live their life in pain. Work it for those who are on their 8th or 9th surgery. Work it for those who didn't get a second chance at being pain free, even if it's only temporary. I hate how my legs look in spandex, my thighs touch together when I do my warm up run, my armpit skin piles on top of my sports bra strap and I am still bloating and retaining water from eating normally again. This is the body of a fighter. When I get to the gym an entirely new mindset begins and I place my headphones in and let my body take the lead. It's just me. Before I know it my workout is over and I am walking out soaked and smelling like an armpit and the happiness I feel is the happiness I dreamed of all along. I don't want to be a bodybuilder, I don't need six pack abs, I don't need competitions, and most of all I don't need approval from anyone. I have Endometriosis and I am kicking butt everyday. I went from not being able to walk to being able to lift 405 pounds with my legs, running 4 miles straight, and keeping up with the boys. I cannot forget my real battle. I cannot forget my disease. I cannot let myself become weak. I am the fighter. My body is amazing and I don't need a pant size to verify that. I am healthy, I am pain free, I am strong, and most of all..
I am happy.
This is when things got hard.
You see for the past year my mind-set was on losing weight or keeping it off. I was 120lbs and 17% body fat. I wasn't skinny, I was tiny. I was able to be that tiny for a year because of my constant calorie counting and monitoring with my scale. I can still remember the moment I realized I had made a hollow goal for myself. I was in a popular apparel store and I was trying on pants and I went to slip on my normal size only to realize that they sat to large, I needed the next size down - 0. I pulled them on and buttoned the top, perfect fit. I bought the pants and drove home ready for my life of utter happiness and perfection to begin. I was hit with the stunning reality that those pants brought me nothing. They didn't change anything. My life was the same, I was just living it smaller. Worse, my body was beginning to fight back. I looked disproportionate, my hair thinned, I poked people with my bones when I gave them hugs. I was tired and crabby most of the time, I was hungry all of the time. I saw that being thin didn't magically turn my life or my own vision of myself into something perfect. I felt uncomfortable in my body and unaware of how to handle my new size. I had no curves, no breast, no butt, and no hips. I lost my shape. I knew the answer was to put back on some weight, but my mind just didn't seem to think this was an option. How do I go against everything I had just fought so hard for this entire year? I was utterly afraid to begin eating more, but I was so unhappy I knew I could not maintain this lifestyle. I was tired and mean and weak and unhappy. I was destroying relationships and I was destroying my body. I was forcing myself to relive the same pain I had felt before losing weight, only this time it was my own mindset that was the disease. I would spend nights crying and then going out and eating as much as possible until I became sick. I would do this every couple of days. My fiancé, who begged me to change my eating habits and just gain weight then offered me another solution to gaining weight. When I was cleared to do so safely by my doctor I would began working out with him. He told me he wanted me off the treadmill everyday and to start lifting some weights, nothing big, just some hand weights. I agreed, and together we walked to the large dumpster outside my dorm and threw away my scale.
It has been two months and it was the BEST decision I ever made.
I fought hard. I cried. I binged. I cried. I lifted. I binged. I restricted. I got caught. I lifted. I binged, I cried. I lifted. I overate. I biked. I ate. I lifted. I ate. I ran. I ate. I gained 20lbs without adding more than an inch to my waist.
Together we sat down and made a workout plan for us to begin to build muscle and strengthen ourselves. We pushed each other in the gym and we encouraged each other. We became each others biggest cheerleaders and competition in the gym. I learned to be able to listen to his directions and corrections and put down my pride long enough to ask questions or ask for him to show me the proper form. We began boasting about the things the other one could do better in the gym. I can run for miles without stopping, and he can lift bigger and heavier things. Even his nickname for me, "Fish", comes from my ability to swim and tread water for a long time. We made meals together and we got healthy together. Soon, my legs got thicker, my butt returned, my shoulders wider and my arms more defined. I was getting strong. I looked in the mirror and my heart soared. I loved how I looked and I loved how I felt. I had put back on twenty pounds, half of what I lost and the world didn't end. I cried, but the world didn't end.
Everyday isn't a walk in the park. 5:30 workouts suck and that moment between my alarm going off and my feet hitting the floor I am 89% sure I'll just skip or go later. Then I think about that waffle I get if I just put my feet on the floor and the waffles win, just kidding. You see... sitting beside my bed is my ID bracelet, the one I had to wear for a month in case something happened and I had to be rushed to the hospital. It has all my information on it and a code that would inform doctors of all my updated medical information. I look at my bracelet and I tell myself to remember why I do this. Remember you have Endometriosis and PCOS, and fight it. Work it for the ladies who can't. Work it for those who will always live their life in pain. Work it for those who are on their 8th or 9th surgery. Work it for those who didn't get a second chance at being pain free, even if it's only temporary. I hate how my legs look in spandex, my thighs touch together when I do my warm up run, my armpit skin piles on top of my sports bra strap and I am still bloating and retaining water from eating normally again. This is the body of a fighter. When I get to the gym an entirely new mindset begins and I place my headphones in and let my body take the lead. It's just me. Before I know it my workout is over and I am walking out soaked and smelling like an armpit and the happiness I feel is the happiness I dreamed of all along. I don't want to be a bodybuilder, I don't need six pack abs, I don't need competitions, and most of all I don't need approval from anyone. I have Endometriosis and I am kicking butt everyday. I went from not being able to walk to being able to lift 405 pounds with my legs, running 4 miles straight, and keeping up with the boys. I cannot forget my real battle. I cannot forget my disease. I cannot let myself become weak. I am the fighter. My body is amazing and I don't need a pant size to verify that. I am healthy, I am pain free, I am strong, and most of all..
I am happy.
