Keep it Real
When it comes to questioning how I acted in each friendship, and what led to the downfall, I seem to be left with the same reasons. Regarding different scenarios, each of my close relationships that have ended in the past 3 years, has been due to my friend’s inability to be honest with me. Their lack of honesty has often times led them to avoiding me, or even ghosting me. I can’t be ghosted very easily, because I will bang on that door until I knock it down. Knock knock, it’s me asking for answers! Is that so insane? Should I have just let you slip out the back door and wondered why forever? No, you promised me friendship, and friends don’t act so carelessly with another’s heart. Maybe I have high expectations of what it means to be a friend, but shouldn’t we all?
My journey with Endometriosis
Maybe you’ve heard of it, maybe you haven’t. Maybe you even have it, and if so, I’m sorry. Me too. I’m not here to write about the scientific facts about endometriosis, otherwise referred to as endo, since you can find all of that information on your own in a google search. I want to speak about my story with endo, because every story looks different.
I got diagnosed with endometriosis in August of 2020. The day of my excision surgery, was the day of my diagnosis. That is, because you can’t officially confirm if a patient’s symptoms are endo or not until you go in surgically to confirm. I opted for the full excision surgery performed by a specialist instead of having them open me up just to confirm and have to schedule a separate surgery for removal.
Before I dive into the dirty details of my discovering what the hell was wrong with me, now is your chance to stop reading if you cannot handle hearing about blood, bowel movements, or anything graphic for that matter. This is personal stuff, and I’m ready to share, because I do believe it is through speaking on the subject that other women learn about the odd symptoms they face, and can start seeking the healthcare they need.
I’m not Nice
Listen, I’ve tried to be the perfectly calm Audrey. The one that has it all together. The one who barely swears. The one who only has meltdowns behind closed doors. It only led to further suffering. Stifling my voice. My need for expression. I’m sorry if my expression hurts you, it’s not supposed to. If my expression is hurting you, just know how badly it’s hurting me to not be able to hold it in any longer. I don’t just tip over, I combust.
A letter from my dead dad
I took the letter upstairs to our bedroom, I needed to read it alone. I quickly began to cry. And then I stopped. In this letter of “love”, it had some cutting words. I felt sad and hurt, but not surprised. A lot of blame shifting, over explaining his side, and a jaded view of mine and my sister’s feelings. Even with all of the blame he placed in this letter, and to those he relieved of any responsibility, it did not shift my view of the truth. The reality that was not just his and my mother’s life, but our life as a family of 4.
Beauty in Breaking
I may now know where I want my life to go in the next few years, but it doesn’t mean it will happen just so. I have learned to let the changing tides take me where I need to be. Even though I feel I know what’s best for me, the universe and the divine are the keeper of those secrets. I feel protected that if I am veering off the path of where my soul needs to go, something will stop me and turn me around. Maybe it’s my guides, maybe it’s my intuition, or are those things one in the same?
Pretty when I cry
As he read his vows, I felt seen, like nobody else sees me. In that moment, it only mattered how he felt, and how I felt. Everyone else was just a spectator. A witness to our emotions.
We knew exactly what we were going through, sharing identical emotions. The words that we exchanged had a deeper meaning than they had just a week before.
Lovesick
What’s happening now is an undoing. It’s a ripping open of these scars, and an outpouring of love. It’s burning like molten lava as it leaves my body. It’s feeling bare and exposed. It makes me want to vomit
Friends to Lovers
I shy away from talking about my marriage and my love life too much; atleast I feel like I do. Depending on who is on the other side of the conversation. It feels embarrassing. It feels like others might mock me. How could she really have such a respectful and loving marriage? Do those exist? And with a man? Where did she find him?
Celebrating Steve Authentically
When somebody dies, it’s easy to feel like we owe them a grand celebration. Where we can all gather round and share the happy memories. Upon more thought, this felt very performative to us. We both had chosen to not have an active relationship, and had not for the past 2 years. To have to be in a room full of people from my father’s past, that knew nothing of our current relationship with him, felt phony.
Untethering from my father
Depression knew him better than most people. It lived with him for years of his life. It convinced him that their history meant more than all the glimmers of goodness other people brought into his world. It promised a future free of pain if he would lay down his trust. In a life filled with so much pain, how can anyone blame him for falling for it. Those who knew my father, and I mean really knew him, can rest a little easier knowing he is no longer in pain. In exchange for his pain, depression didn’t tell him it’s trade off.