Today finds me nineteen days post-op from a laparascopic myomectomy. I had abdominal pain for (literally) ALL of 2018, and it took doctors over 9 months to determine why: subserosal fibroids.
Fibroids are common amongst women in general, and black women in particular. The risk rate also goes up exponentially for those of us who haven't had babies, so... yeah - my black, child-free self was bound to get them. I heavily side-eye the doctors for taking so long to figure out what was causing my pain, but that's not what this post is about. This post is about the aftermath.
I've spent a LOT of time at home alone, post-surgery. I have wonderful, caring friends whom I can call if I need ANYTHING, and many of them checked on me regularly for the first 10 days or so to make sure that I was ok. I appreciate each and every single one of them from the bottom of my heart. Over the last week, I've ventured out a few times, briefly, each time ending up with additional pain and fatigue.
My own frustration at not healing "fast enough" along with some others expectations that I *should* be ready to socialize (in whatever form), began to cause me tremendous anxiety... so I checked out. I muted all mobile device notifications and sequestered myself to the level that felt right for me, peeking out of my cocoon mostly just enough to let my parents know that I'm still alive and to peek in on Twitter every couple of days to see if the world is ending. Healing takes the time it takes and that it WILL HAPPEN if I allow myself the time and space to do so. I've breathed out expectations, breathed in healing, and in doing so, I've reclaimed that time and space for myself.
The resulting atmosphere feels like a mountaintop meditation of sorts, and I'm awestruck at the view from here.
We all know that looking at things from a distance allows you to see things that you would not otherwise see. Think "big-picture" vs. "small-angle" viewpoint.
I don't feel stressed or rushed, and I don't feel like I'm missing out on anything that will matter long-term. I don't feel beholden to my devices. I move on my own time, how and if I see fit. As a result, my mind, unencumbered by the usual minutiae, feels more free to be creative and make associations than it has in a long time. Without minute-to-minute demands from the outside world, I find that it processes more slowly, deliberately, and meaningfully.
My home is a peaceful place, and when it isn't, it's because of what or whom I've allowed in. Same with my mind.
So, now I've finally come to the point of this blog post: my over-arching goal for 2019.
For the past couple of years, I've decided on a principle to guide me through that year. In 2017, it was #SelfCare17. 2018? #GrownAndFree was my theme. I'll keep those with me, for sure, but this year?? I feel compelled to take a cue from my lived experience over the last few weeks, and,
Receive more, &
Guard my energy.
In a hashtag, I will:
because, apparently, I've been expending valuable energy on LOT of things
that don't matter (to me) long-term.
So I, like Auntie Maxine, am reclaiming my time in 2019. Huzzah. Watch me Whip, Whip, now watch me Nae Nae with joy.
I'm fully aware that I can't hole myself up in my apartment forever, nor do I wish to completely withdraw from the world - I love life and most of the people IN my life. I will, however, be extremely selective about how I spend my energies this year, and in doing so, I intend to cultivate fertile space within my mind and spirit for good things to grow. ❤️