My Adventures into Endometriosis Stage IV land…

Endometriosis is a chronic pain illness that affect 1 in 10 women worldwide.

Basically Endometriosis has no known proven cause and no proven cures. One theory about how endometriosis develops is that it develops while the woman is a fetus in utero. Then there are other theories-one I believe is the Migration theory because it makes the most sense to me and my hubby both. Basically this is a hypothesis that endo starts in the endometrial lining of a woman’s uterus-now the cause remains unknown but the theory suggests that somehow those cells in the body-endometrial lining cells are able to migrate out of a wombs uterus/womb. They then implant in places like the bowels, the ovaries, the sciatic nerves, the back and the legs and of course the pelvis.

My journey began in 2006, when i was diagnosed with an ovarian cysts. Most and many of the obgyns I went too, only wanted to monitor it to see if it would go away? Finally in 2009, a new doctor wanted to try to remove it using laparoscopic surgery.This dr was older and experienced but it just happened she was not experienced with this illness. She was actually a plastic surgeon obgyn. She helped women after they had babies have some strange surgery to make their vaginias appear as if they never had babies before? So she was an expert in that.

After she operated on me she said she could not remove the cyst only drain it and explained it was a chocolate cyst and that meant i had a condition called endometriosis. She sent me to a different surgeon who was an expert in infertility. That led to another operation called a pelviscopy-to see if my fallopian tube worked?  Sure enough one tube was blocked but we were somewhat shocked to discover the other one worked. The other surprise was all of my female organs were literally ‘stuck together” due to my disease.That last surgery was in 2010. Since then I tried many different obgyns and other methods to control my pain or increase fertility. Sadly I did get pregnant in 2011 only to miscarry within six weeks of conception.

I have not see a OBGYN since 2012. My hubby finally pleaded for me to go to one at least for a female check up-pap,breast and pelvic exam.I am debating whether another surgery would help me or not.

In the meantime though I compiled all the endometriosis poetry off my blog last month and wrote a poetry chapbook.

Currently it is FREE to download:

to get a free copy follow the link below, but i must warn you it contains some profanity, and some vividly described imagery:

http://www.amazon.com/Dont-make-bleed-Confessions-Uterus-ebook/dp/B00VOIHPO6/ref=asap_bc?ie=UTF8

ALSO THE PAPERBACK VERSION IS AVAILABLE AS A FREE GOODREADS RAFFLE GIVEAWAY:

TO WIN A FREE SIGNED COPY ENTER HERE:

https://www.goodreads.com/giveaway/show/135617-don-t-watch-me-bleed-confessions-of-a-uterus-in-pain-poetry

New Facebook page for Sex in the kitchen Sink

https://www.facebook.com/sexinthekitchensink13?ref=hl

Follow me on facebook please!Picture 149 Warming up with color abstract 2 Fall 2013 Spirals of Song and other poems book cover1 Picture 161 Warming up with color abstract 1 Fall 2013 Abstract oil pastel drawing 99 cover design for words whirl 2013 copy Falling to pieces by EHCato 1999 IMAG0893 IMAG0898 IMAG0897 Art before words new front cover copy back cover art before words3 copy self portrait 05012013 Picture 94 Acrylic mixed media pumice gel painting 1996 canvasboard Spirituality, acrylic and sand on canvasboard 1996 possible coverart1 copy Athena wiccan11 IMG_20130330_093258

Simplicity part 2-dedicated to my friend Erin D.

Picture 161Picture 158Picture 160

Simplicity

2 parts bitter-sweet vinegar

2 parts harmony

one dash of Hope

one sprinkling of Faith,

one Tablespoon full of miracles.

1/2 stick of helplessness melted but not burnt brown.

1/4 cup memories

16 oz of pure, unstrained Love

1 graham pie crust of sorrows

1 can of heavy-whipping cream

2 tbs allspice, 2 tbs cloves, 4 tbs fresh honesty

one classic ceasar salad of velvet covered sadness

one case of dark irish beer…

blend with one bag of Catholic Guilt,

add two whole egg-yolks

add 7 hail-marys and one quart of confessions.

Blend with a twist of hard scotch whiskey, empathy as a orange peel, a cherry

with-out its stem, some liquid courage, one King James version of

The Holy Bible.

Some false idols/some fake friends/those who will swear by you/

yet they disappear in the end?

I trust nobody who says to me, that they will “pray for me,”

I wish i were not a bitch like that, but i totally am-such a bitch.

I am not going to offend them by declining their pray offers-

but i am not going to depend on them for this junk.

I usually merely responded with Thank you-or thank you very much-whatever.

Prayers are both sweet and nice-

if they are done right.

But true friends do more than have private jesus jams/

talks on your behalf.

True friends know when you are sad, And sense when you need to have a small

phone-call chat. true friends listen and practice the,

Fine Art of Allowance-

meaning they allow you to be sad.

They do not try to cram you into a shoebox

with too much duct tape,

and scrawl the word “Happy”

onto your head-in order to make themselves feel better.

Real friends want you to feel better,

but when you get around to it.

Real friends allow you,

to simply FEEL.

They allow you to be-

They allow you to grieve and to suffer.

They realize there is no universal time clock on

one feeling verses another.

I wrote this out for a friend of mine.

Her mane is Erin-we kinda grew up together.

Anyways, her mother just recently passed away due to Cancer,

this past march on st.patricks day.

Erin and her twin Bridget are both my friends.

I did not realize how huge their family is until very recently,

Anyways yesterday, Erin was having a bad day,

and she shared with her fb friends she really missed her mother.

I was completely floored with all the useless facebook comment messages

she was getting. There were just so fake to me.

So i commented myself-and i was not trying to impress facebook-or Erin or anybody else.

I just wished to say something that could comfort Erin and be

totally completely “real” and “honest” with her.

I was just being me, I was just being emily.

She wrote me later, in a private facebook message, Thank you so much , you knew just how I was feeling and how much my messages helped her.

That really made my evening last night.

It is a good feeling to be a good friend to somebody you forever care for,

cherish and sisterly love.

True friendships among women are not always,

easy to find or to maintain.

But once I’ve formed a friendship bond-

with another female- I keep those friends

out and treasure them immensely.

It really takes a whole pile of damages for me,

to no longer consider a woman my friend.

Once a friend, always a friend, at least that is where

my loyalties take me. So many beautiful feminine friends:

Each is like a precious gem or a secret treasure to me.

I LOVE my friends-all of them.

even the cob-webbed covered ancient ones,

those are kind of crunchy

but i just love them all the more-for it!!!!

Something broken

She cannot put a finger

on why, but there is something there

deep inside

broken and rusted

despite being encased in honey

and a touch of lovely

love.

She knows that the two parts must connect

come together and securely fit

in a mechanical motion

to produce an organic product

1/2 of her and 1/2 of him

that’s all the recipe calls for

and yet she cannot put her finger on it.

The two come as one well-maintained machine,

but nothing is ever produced or created.

She does not know why,

simply feels the bareness

on the inside

longing to know why she cannot fix

the broken pieces deep inside

and she just feels

a touch of something kinda, something that is, something where the;

sadness grows.

 

Depressed slightly

Yesterday, oh how I cried.

Huge horrible torrents of tears.

My husband did not know what to do-

he never really does, when I stumble

backwards into depression again.

My manias are easier for him to understand-

and he’s seen so many more of those-than this.

This black terror fit.

This wave crashing downwards upon me,

crushing me to the bone.

crushing me to my soul.

When I get like this, I cannot help myself;

I collapse in crying fits, jagged waves with razor teeth edges.

I cry so hard,  I barely make a sound-just this gasping breathe-this sobbing mess.

I realize, of course I have so many blessings.

I have a loving husband, for the most part a very happy marriage.

I have many friends. I have a roof over my head, bills are paid, food in the house.

5 lovely fur-pets. A beautiful house and backyard. Our backyard has wonderful

rose bushes.

But despite all the good-the depressions still sneak up upon me.

I cry for the have-nots.

I cry because I cannot find employment.

I have been looking over 18 months.

I cry because I have a history of miscarriages,

and infertility. I cry because I have mental illness, and

no matter how hard I try or which magic pills I swallow

I am still slightly crazy one day to the next.

I feel as though because I have been on disability so long…

that I have no worth as a person. I believe a job or a career

in many ways defines you, and for me? I have nothing but years of blank spaces.

I just recently finished a masters degree. Unfortunately, after I got it, I realized;

it is a slightly useless one. I should have gotten a counseling degree…

instead I got a masters of Education: major in art Ed with a core focus of art therapy.

As lovely as that sounds, nobody will hire me.

I do not even have a teaching certificate.

I owe a fortune in student loans…

This most recent hypomania-back at the end of may-

well it nailed me.

And now I’m spiraling downwards without a staircase.

Frustrations mount.

I struggle with broken-down-hands

to grab the gratitude, the blessings, the happiness

the optimism still there.

There is great love all around in this big beautiful world.

I need to find some deep inside myself, forgive my own

imperfections and share something pretty with the world.

At the edge

I sit here

at the edge.

Realizing that my life

is nearly half-over.

I just turned 39 roughly 8 weeks ago.

My concerns are much different

than the average Gal.

I’m blessed that genetically- i still get carded for things

I could easily pass for 20 something,

yet here i sit on the edge of 40.

Not many wrinkles, or even gray hairs-

none of that concerns me anyways.

My concern, is much more personal.

I feel like I have barely begun.

That I have not done much so far-in my life.

that I have so many dreams still to accomplish,

that I have yet to leave my mark or stamp on things.

that no one will remember me years hence

when I am gone.

It saddens me greatly-to have never had children.

I feel I have no legacy,

besides poetry and artwork,

and in times of twilight

those too will surely fade away.

I will be like the sand at the shore then.

The sand that goes in and out with the tide

disappearing at your feet

like it never was there really at all.

Her ugly limited view of god

IMAG0907 (1)My sister and i

were on the telephone,

when i mentioned my husband and self-

maybe seeking an annulment

in order to get a portion of my social security

benefits restored.

She was furious with me.

She gave me a huge angry lecture,

citing the importance of Love,

and the sanctity of marriage.

It come out of nowhere,

this fright train of outrage.

She stream-rolled me, with

I would not end my marriage-

over such a small amount of money Emily.

this she said with words made of bees

not of honey….her quick judgement of me.

This extra amount of money would be

in fact quite insignificant to my sister.

Yet compared to us and all of our struggles;

Her and her husband live on the high horse-

She herself has never even acquired a

4 year bachelors degree-yet she has made it-

achieving much, in the world of hospital administration.

She was lucky to achieve so much with so little education-

just the sweat of her brow and making it up the

food chain by sheer hard work and lots of luck.

Myself, I hold a high school diploma, a bachelors degree in Fine Arts,

and a Masters Degree in Education: Art Ed and Art Therpy-

I also hold an unraveling mind

trapped beneath the glass,

of mental illness.

I too, have worked very hard for everything that life has given me.

The difference of course, is i roughly earn

only 6,000$ per year from ssdi.

She I am sure earns well over 50,000$

plus her spouse also works-he is a republican,

a private businessman.

My spouse works too, yet barely above

the minimum wage. He cuts meat for a living,

a honest job-yet does not count as high paying.

I do not consider us to be “greedy”people.

I also do not consider us to be”godless”.

he is an atheist and I am Wiccan.

She was attacking me,

verbally on the grounds of the sanctity of marriage & her ugly limited,

view of her God-not mine-not understanding-

I no longer follow her bible-

the law she swallows,

things we were taught as small children.

These beliefs instilled in her outrage,

that i could consider ending a loving marriage

just to earn a increase in monthly benefits…

She has not walked a mile in my shoes.

She does not understand how difficult it can be-

to subside on only $6,000 for an entire year.

Yes, I am married.

Yes, I do love my husband.

But is it wrong for me to want better for us?

When i have been looking for even a part-time job,

for over 18 months….

had countless interviews,

but no callbacks…

is it wrong for me to end a formality,

a paper contract between he and i,

that would increase my SSDI benefits,

by over double the amount they are now?

Is it fair to my husband,

that he pay for everything

and I do not pay my share?

She advised me to simply quit smoking.

This is a brilliant idea-

I often encounter by non-smokers.

As if it were simply that easy to stop?

Besides even if I did quit that would only free up 350-400$ per month.

Nothing like, the over $800 in benefits, i lost

by marrying my heart, true love, the man of my dreams.

At the time, I did not think losing,

all that money would be so hard.

At the time, just over 2 years ago,

I thought i would earn a nice income-

from a masters degree in art therapy.

but i did not.

and now, my older sister berates me,

on the importance of the sanctity of marriage,

and the strength of marriage vows.

Please do not beat me up with guilt,

over your limited and narrow definition of God.

That is not my God nor my Goddess.

We believe in separate things entirely.

Your ugly, limited view of God and all that

that must contain.

Beating me up with the Religion of my childhood,

Trying to prevent me from committing an unknown sin.

Your God is not my God.

My God does not sit upon a shelf,

trapped between ivory pages

of a little yet well known book-

that is used in many purposes to do more harm than good.

the hidden truth

the hidden truth,

is that which haunts me…

everybody thought we were the perfect happy couple…

and I? how could I explain to our friends-our loved ones-

about The Dark Times….

about the hidden Truth?

That i married a classic-type of abuser.

That my beloved husband,

who i “loved” dearly was not only less than ideal,

but i was paranoid fearful of his anger. Of his angry outbursts.

That frequently, i felt unsafe, even during lovemaking.

I was scared he may attempt to kill me.

And i do not know why.

the fear seemed irrational, like another delusion of my bipolar mind.

Until a day two weeks ago where he admitted to “fantasies”?? I’m not sure what you would call then,”ideas” or “plans”?

That if his life ever got bad enough, he would fall back on the notion

of a murder-suicide.

by the way by murder-he meant me specifically and suicide

i guess was for him-not only was this a horrifying thing to say to the one woman who loves you-

it also helped me reach the realization, i was in constant danger.

 

I’ve been hiding out at a battered woman’s shelter.

i finally feel safe again.

it took some skill even in getting here because i had no money and no car.

but i finally made it Saturday afternoon.

 

I blame myself for not leaving sooner.

but in oh-too-many ways it was easier to stay.

 

i am grateful now, for my infertility issues.

that saves me from a lifetime of interaction

with a husband who is crazy.

 

I am so very devastated-that it had to-end this way,

but it was only getting worse.  Now i am facing loved ones with the Hidden Truth.

they do not understand how hard it is to admit….you are a victim.

that somebody scares you half to death.

that this man you “loved” is merely a shadow of his true self,

the side made up of complete anger and irrational darkness.

 

 

nightmares and panic attacks

i realize whats past is past,

yet i still inside my mind and body and heart-

i still am standing in that same burning building/

my hands are spread apart-

and he is holding me down and i-

i am crying and screaming

for him to just let me go-

that i cannot even breathe.

then i wake up still trapped inside my dream,

my nightmare,  the past.

it holds me in fist of rock solid granite-

it pulls me down it won’t let me go.