Don't Go Chasing

I bet you thought I was going to say 'Waterfalls'... right?

Alright.
Pep talk time.
Let's cut to the chase.

From here on out.
No More Doubting Yourself.
No more second guessing.
No more being afraid to be exactly who you are, or who you want to be.

It is time to stop comparing yourself to others. It’s not healthy.
I've spent way too much time and money with counsellors and psychologists to realise this, so believe me when I say the only place that shit takes you is down the big ol' lonesome road to low (if not non-existant) self-esteem.

No more hurting because you can’t make someone love you (because you can't. Did Bonnie Raitt teach you nothing?).
No more trying desperately hard to win over someone’s affections.
No more frantically running after those who are engaged in others.

No more chasing.
At all.
None.

Love and happiness should never be chased.
You will never ever catch them.
Not ever.
Trust me. My five year old self wound up in hospital with an asthma attack trying to chase my first love in a heated game of Kiss Catch... long story short, I couldn't catch him, Jessica did and I lost my breath (I literally thought I was dying from jealousy and heartbreak. How could she!?).

True love is like a moth. It's attracted to the light (and also freaks me the fuck out sends me into a frenzy)
All you need to do is glow. You do you, boo.
It will come to you.

You just need to open your bloody eyes enough to really see that anything is possible and that you are not all the shitty things you think you are.
You are limitless.

Fairy-tales and happy-ever-afters can exist, but here is the kicker—you have to create these things for yourself.
Nobody else is going to do it for you.
Not your mum, your dad, your best friend, or your soul mate or anyone else out there knows how to build the life you dream of.
Only you can do that.
And you are entirely capable.

Also, let me let you in on a little secret. No one around you has it all figured out. No one. I’ve written this, but believe me when I say I’ve written it as much for myself as anyone else. And if I read it a hundred times over, parts of it still won’t fully sink in. I will still doubt myself.

Why?
Well, think about it
We’ve spent years being conditioned into believing that we cannot be the fullest versions of ourselves. We are afraid to stand in our own spotlight and shine, as every time we try, someone is hiding in the wings ready to knock us straight back down.

The reality is, there will always be those who are watching from the cheap seats, just waiting, praying for when we fall. Allow them the role of spectator if that's what gives them their kicks, but make sure you shock them when you show how fast you are willing to rebound again and again.

Fuck. Even if you stumble - which you will - you’ve got to at least give it one hell of a try.

You are a work of art, and all artwork is a process.
All masterpieces take time and the most important thing is progression—not perfection.
(Holy shit I'm metaphorical in the face of heartbreak)
You know what they say: Rome wasn't built in a day.

We have to start to acknowledge, accept and embrace the beauty in ourselves; it doesn’t matter what anyone else thinks—we are the only ones that need to see our worth.

Just because you are a little different from others doesn’t mean you are weird, strange, crazy or odd. You are not a square peg, or a round one for that matter. Your shape will change every single day.

Stop searching for approval. It is time to stop asking or hoping to be liked. It’s time to stop looking for love in the wrong places. You are never going to find the truth in things when you are seeking. They will always elude you. You will only see the illusion of what you hope to find.

We are never going to gain the approval of everyone. It is impossible to be accepted and liked by everyone.
And certainly don't forget that there are always going to be those who judge, find pleasure in putting you down, and just enjoy being assholes in general.
Negativity stems from fear and jealousy.
People are afraid of what they do not understand.

When you shine, you hurts their eyes. It bewilders them.
Your light kisses the edges of their shadow and highlights parts of them that they are afraid to look at. It is easier for some people to tear others down rather than build themselves up.

Not everyone will want to see you soar.
And you kniw what?
That’s okay.
When you are flying high you won’t give a flying fuck what others think.
You'll see that those flying by your side are the ones who will pause to be the wind blowing beneath your wings (can I get an 'amen' for Bette Midler?!) if you weaken.
They are the ones who will help you climb higher, not be the cause of your fall.
They are the real MVP. 
Keep those ones close

When someone is happy with themselves they will never feel the need to pull another person down.

Don’t be "that guy"  and allow yourself to be drawn in by them and pulled under; open your heart, do not judge and above all, show them love. Always remember, hurt people hurt people.

You’ll make mistakes, plenty of them. You always will. Here’s the thing. It’s not the mistakes that are made that matter in the end—what really counts is how we rectify them.

We can’t, as much as we would love to, take an eraser to the past. However - we can turn each negative into a positive. There’s more to be learned from mistakes than anything else life shows us.

So, promise me: Let go of perfection. It doesn’t exist. Believe in magic. It exists.

And I one last promise to ask before I get off my soapbox.

Over and above anything else... If there is the only thing you believe in - Believe in yourself.

It’s not always easy, but with practice, progression and patience, absolutely anything is possible.

Ovary and out,

S

Xx

Dear Me...

(and anyone else who needs it)

Get a grip.

Seriously. Enough of the bullshit.

Pull your fucking head in and get your shit together.

Every. Single. Time.

Why... Why are you apologising for feeling things? Why are you so hell bent on justifying yourself?

You are allowed to be hurt. You're allowed to be honest. You are allowed to be scared.

You are allowed.

Repeat after me.

You. Are. Allowed

I'm not here to give you a verbal beat down so that you feel worse about yourself and your situation.

You know where you went wrong, you know what you need to do, so why are you fighting it?

You know that overcompensating will only further inflame the situation. You know that the justifications and apologies mean all but nothing.

"But... how can they possibly mean nothing? I meant everything I said"

Because, Serenity!
Just because you're responding in the manner in which you would anticipate someone else to respond to a scenario, isn't necessarily how someone else is going to respond (and let's be honest here, you'd more than likely get your heckles up if you were on the receiving end of a neurosis such as yours) - so don't get so fucking uptight.

Let this sink in.

No matter what the relationship to you, how other people think and feel has nothing to do with you.

You've done all you can do, in fact you've probably done far more than you should've... But I digress.

This is your life.

You've been on this ride for 28 years. And you've been on the Pain Train with all your friends: Debby Downer, Angsty Ange and Anxiety Annie, for the last seven years.

For anyone else who decides to come along for the ride, they're going to take a while to get used to it. Lord knows that those three are obnoxious bitches at the best of time, but when you introduce the other Troublesome Trio: Lady Penelope of Pain-ville, Sleep Deprivation Suzy and her husband, Stuart Stress-man... Honey, you may as well just throw yourself in a padded cell with the "I-love-hugs" jacket, because bitches be cray... And by bitches, I mean you... You and all your friends.
You're completely out the gate, balls-to-the-wall crazy when you're dealing with all of that.

You had a freak out yesterday, and that's okay. As mentioned earlier, you are allowed, but let's rein it in and take a breather, yeah?

You have so much on your plate right now that you need to be focussed on, do not let this bump in the road completely fuck everything up for you.

Focus on the bigger picture. You set goals for yourself, don't let something that hasn't even happened yet completely throw you into a tailspin and screw everything up.

This junction is not going to be an easy one to get through, you need to be prepared for that.

But for fuck sake woman, stop letting your fears effect everything good in your life.

Stop pushing those closest to you away.

You always harp on about how that is your biggest fear... SO BREAK THE CYCLE! Stop doing it.

Are you really that blind to see what you're worth? That people actually care, and want to help, support and be there for you?

Why are you so damn scared?

You have so much to be excited and hopeful about, and literally the only person who can fuck that up for you, is YOU.

Famous last words

There are going to be a lot of good times to look forward to. However, we all know that, inevitably, with the good comes the bad.

But screw the bad. Don't fear the bad. If and when it happens, it'll happen.

Don't try preempt it. Don't try control it.

What matters is how you deal with it when it does happen.

I need you to realise your worth.

You are worthy of happiness. You are worthy of laughter, and love, and compassion, and support when you need it.

You mean so much to so many people - so why don't you believe them when they tell you?

Stop projecting your issues onto those who are just trying to be there for you.

They are there for a reason.

They're going to frustrate you no end, because they force you to see something in yourself that either you haven't seen yet, or are actively avoiding seeing.

They're going to make you realise a few home truths which are going to be painful to accept.

Stop deflecting every compliment, kind gesture and gratuity afforded to you.

How have you not realised that you teach people how to treat you?

Stop complaining about how you keep feeling let down by people, when in actuality, you're letting yourself down by not accepting the incredible gifts that are being offered to you.

Yes. Yes, you are hurting. You have struggles that a lot of people don't understand.
But what you are not, is broken.
No. You are not broken.

You do not need to overcompensate for anything for fear of not being "enough".
You are more than enough, and it's high time that you start believing that.

As much as I am loathe to use this as a reference, remember where your name came from:

God, grant me the Serenity
To Accept the things I cannot change,

The Courage to change the things I can

And the Wisdom to know the difference

Accept that you can't change the past, or the way people think and feel.
Have the courage to change the way you approach situations that make you uncomfortable.
Be wise enough to know that accepting what is and was; changing the way you respond to scenarios is ultimately where you will find your peace.

For Gods sake girl.
Just live. Be present.
You've got this.

Ovary and out,

S

xx

H.O.P.E

Disclaimer: This blog entry will contain sensitive material relating to sexual assault. If this is likely to be triggering to you, please read with caution.

My specialist appointment to schedule surgery was this morning.
Consent forms signed, all stations go, now all we are waiting for (frustratingly) is a set date.
I'll be running to the letterbox every day until that letter arrives.

So there we go. It's all happening.
With a bit of luck, we're on our way to a pain free existence (even if that is aiming a little too high).
The reality is, who the fuck knows what lay ahead of me. All I can do is smile whenever possible, put on the brave face and keep every crossable extremity crossed for a positive outcome.

Physically? Pain. Yeah, cool. Whatever... It is what it is - I'll deal with it, I've learned to live with it, and whilst it sucks, that's just what I've got to put up with. Fine.

Mentally and emotionally? I cannot do it anymore. I just can't. Or at least, that's certainly how it feels.
I am completely and utterly worn down from it all, and I guess that was one of the biggest considering factors when it came to agreeing to the hysterectomy.
It was also one of the biggest factors working against me.

If I still suffer pain like I am currently experiencing, even despite surgery, am I going to cope with that?

No, but seriously. This is the most stable relationship I've ever had

As I mentioned in my previous post, I've undergone a lot (and I do mean a lot) of therapy sessions with both guidance counsellors and clinical psychologists alike.
For a while there, the clinical psychologist assigned to me by the Pain Management Team through the hospital really became my life line.

Being the perceptive, intuitive being that I am, in the past I've been able to manipulate counsellors by giving them the answers they wanted to hear.
Because I have a reasonably clear understanding as to where a lot of my issues come from and how they effect me, I could (and would) play on that and they'd be satisfied that their job was done.

Wrong.

However, it meant I was out of their offices quick smart, "equipped with the tools necessary to cope" with my stressors.
Wrong. Wrong, wrong, wrong, wrong, wrong.
So fucking wrong.

But I was arrogant and ignorant and didn't give two shits.

Then I met the clinical psychologist, and I swear to God that man was a Brain Ninja of the highest ranking.
Within the first session he had humoured me enough to let me think I knew what I was talking about before swiftly going in for a kill shot with his proverbial ninjatō, straight to my cerebral cortex.

I didn't see it coming, and just like that, he completely broke down my walls.

We did - and continue to do - an extensive amount of work together, a lot of which was met with a certain amount of cynicism.
I can say with hand on heart that there was more than one occasion where I was close to telling him he was barking up the wrong tree and to go fuck himself because I wasn't having a bar of it anymore.
Discomfort will do that to a girl, apparently.

When he first approached me with the idea of embarking on EMDR (not a dance party like I'd hoped), I swear I nearly threw him out his 10th floor window.
As far as I could tell, from what he was saying, this was just glorified hypnosis, and I wasn't particularly keen on the risk of hearing my "safe word" in public and winding up catatonic.

More so than that, it was going to require talking in great depth about traumatic experiences in my life, exploring the feelings associated with them in order to 'unlock, rearrange and reprocess' those experiences so that they no longer had the physiological and psychological impact that they had been having up until that point.
The theory is that, by doing so, whenever the feelings start rising to the surface - for arguments sake, the feelings of self loathing, despair and helplessness experienced during a pain flare - you are able to reach for your 'safe word' and it will trigger a positive reaction/response as opposed to the expected negative.

There is one particular life event which, for all intents and purposes, I am fairly open about.
It's something that makes a lot of people uncomfortable, and for that reason it's not something that ever really gets discussed in any great amount of detail.

For that reason, I had (and still do, to an extent) dealt with it the only way I knew how.
Pushed it to the back of my mind, brushed it off and claimed that it didn't bother me, because if I let it bother me, then I was letting him win all over again.

I don't share this story lightly, nor do I share it for sympathy or any other kind of support, and if you find this upsetting then I apologise in advance.

At the age of 12, I was molested by a trusted male of great influence in my life.
For a long, long time I kept it to myself, choosing only to tell my best friend so that it wasn't my burden to carry on my own.
The fear of the potential consequences suffered by myself and/or anyone else who dare confront the perpetrator was enough for me to vow I would never breath a word of it.

Navigating your way around your abuser on a daily basis is hard, but I never let on that anything happened, and I suppose that was when I really learned how to act - my first foray into martyrdom.
It was my cross to bear. I obviously did something to deserve it, and nobody else should suffer for something I did.

Had things not played out the way that they did, I have no doubt that I would still be carrying that secret with me to this day.
That being said, there came a time where I needed to do whatever I could to protect my loved ones from the risk of falling victim themselves, and thus I made my admission on the proviso that it didn't go as far as police because I was fearful that nearly 4 years later, there would still be a huge amount of fall out and that those closest to me would wind up hurt.

Well, police were involved - obviously and understandaby - and the case wound up going to trial, which was dismissed almost as soon as I got down off the stand.
After four years, a simple 'He-said/She-said' doesn't quite cut it in the court room.
Insufficient evidence and an inability to prove beyond a reasonable doubt that he was guilty meant that the case was thrown out and there would be no further investigation.

Needless to say, this scared the shit out of me.
I felt like I had let everybody down. But worse than that, this disgustingly volatile man was free to roam and had now been tarnished with the 'Pedophile' brush, a label which - conviction or no - would linger like a bad smell.
Not only that, add an aggressive family to the mix, I was pretty terrified of what the implications were going to be.

... I digress.

The reason I share this story in particular is because there have been several studies which support a direct correlation between chronic pelvic pain and sexual abuse victims.

With this knowledge, my psychologist set out to use the EMDR treatment method (most commonly used in PTSD sufferers) to 'unlock' that memory, release it, and disassociate the negative affect.

It's hard to say specifically whether it's had any impact on my feelings associated with that particular incident, as it's not something I do or have paid much mind to.
However, when the same treatment was applied to the thoughts and feelings associated with pain, I can say with absolute certainty that there was a noticeable shift in the way I handle my pain and the feelings I have towards it.

Chronic pain is an insidious beast.
It changes everything about a person.

But, with the right tools and the right support, there is hope.

So Hold On, Pain Ends.

And on that disgustingly cheesy note,

Ovary and out!


S
xx

Ctrl+Alt+Del: The Three Finger Salute

It's 3am. Wednesday morning.

I'm angry. So incredibly fucking angry.
And frustrated. Fuck. So inexplicably frustrated.
And upset.
And hurt.
And listless.
And exasperated.
And melancholy
And bitter.

And tired.

I cannot even begin to tell you how tired I am.

But "tired" means so many things when you're 28, staring down the barrel of a majorly life changing surgery, trying to juggle work, study and personal and professional relationships with chronic pain, fatigue and crippling anxiety, depression and self doubt.

I genuinely wish that there was a way to force quit certain programmes which run in the background of our lives, slowing down our operating systems.

Ctrl + Alt + Del > Task Manager > Force Quit.
"Are you sure?"
Yes. A million times yes.

Endo is a cunt of a disease, and as much as I'd like to say it's a disease of the cunt (because wordplay, obviously) unfortunately it's not confined specifically to that area.

Endometriosis is a cruel, pervasive, unrelenting bitch which has been the bane of my existence for the past 8 years.
There is no cure.
And from where I'm sitting right now - on my couch, curled up with my heat pack and crying - there's not a hell of a lot of hope.

I've been fighting for a hysterectomy for the better part of two years.
In those two years I've undergone two other surgeries for excision of endometriosis, cysts and my left ovary.
In those two years I've been admitted to hospital for anywhere from two to eight days at a time, more times than I can count.

In the eight years since I was diagnosed, I've had 6 surgeries, 7 general anaesthetics and if we average my admissions to twice every three months, that's 64 admissions in eight years... and that's not considering the GP visits, trips to the ED and all the other shit that's involved with having a long standing illness.
I don't even want to consider what that all amounts to.

Aforementioned hysterectomy has finally been granted, but only after extensive psychological care.
They're still not convinced it's going to do me any good in terms of my pain, however, have agreed to go ahead with it because they are worried that (and this is verbatim) "if we don't, I'm concerned it will affect your mental health".

Oh. Right. Okay.

I don't know if it's just because of my already fucked up mental state, but it felt like a giant slap in the face.
As if to say "Well Serenity, we're only agreeing to it so that you'll drop it, not because we're convinced that something is wrong in there and that you deserve a chance at being pain free, but so that we can say 'ha-ha, we told you so' once the surgery is over and done with and you're still in pain".

The sting from that proverbial slap is still very much present, and the ringing it's left in my ear has done nothing but get louder and louder and louder as the days go on.

Monday 21st March, 2016.
8:45am.
I'll finally find out when I can be rid of this godforsaken Demon Uterus, Ursula (yeah, just like that evil sea wench from Little Mermaid) and her dumb-ass sidekick, Odette the Ovary and her clinger on, Francine the Fallopian Tube.

Besides, I have this cute wee lady now!

You'd think I'd be excited, and don't get me wrong, I am.
However, I'm a nervous wreck and it's wearing thin.
My pain is flaring as a result, and in a cruel twist of fate, this leads to further nerves and anxiety, which leads to more pain... Which leads to... You get the jist.

What if I get to the appointment and they've changed their mind?
What if I have the surgery and get no relief?
What if I don't recover from the surgery well and wind up worse than before?
What if the pressure is too much and I have to drop out of study? Out of work?
What if it's too much to handle and my relationships suffer?
What if? What if? What if? What if? What if? What if? What if? What if?

"Don't think of the what if's, the ands, the buts and the maybes... Be positive. Look for the silver lining"

Fuck off.
I have. And I do. But every now and then the cracks in the facade begin to show, and you have to forgive a girl for having a breakdown and losing her shit when she's about to sprout facial hair and start sweating like a whore in church, stripping off in the middle of the frozens aisle begging for relief from the hot flushes.

For now there isn't a hell of a lot to do but wait it out and try not to drive myself and those around me crazy.

So that's that.
This is me; in all my angsty, frustrated glory.

Here's to the countdown, the meltdown and all the shit in between.

Ovary and out

S