learning to slow down, accept, and understand that change is the only constant.
Before I begin, I want to state how every women’s story of endo is completely unique. We have our own timelines, journeys, losses, gains, and realities. In those differences, we can still share and support one another emotionally, empathizing and sympathizing.
People often describe me as incredibly positive and energetic. “Megan, I can’t imagine you ever being sad – you’re the happiest person I know!” I’ve often heard. My best friend would chuckle, knowing this to be totally absurd. Yes, I was, I am, outwardly energetic. I even recall summer nights in high school, the clock reading 1am, and my impulse was to run around the block because I was high on simply being so happy.
My bubbly nature led me to define myself as a true extrovert. If you took me to a party I’d get a surge of energy, full of enthusiasm to talk, listen and laugh with those around me.
This energy has also fed into my athleticism. Being an athlete is deeply tied to my identity. Throughout high school, college, and even some years after, my periods never significantly effected my ability to perform. On the soccer field, on the bike, or even in the classroom. I didn’t feel like 100%, but we never do all the time.
These core elements of my identity were tested soon after turning 24.
I’d been riding, and sometimes racing, road and mountain bikes for a few years – it was my outlet for competition, my tool for focus, my mental balancer. I rode most days, or on days when I didn’t ride, I was still doing some sort of high intensity exercise.
However, soon after a compilation of incidents – notably, an appendectomy and concussion, I found myself suddenly exhausted. I started napping during the day (unheard of for me!), becoming anti-social (who was this?), and overall bummed out. My once pretty mild periods became so painful, I took Vicodin to quell the pain. My stomach constantly aching and bloated, no matter where I was in my cycle.
It really was as rapid as a light switch.
I visited my primary care physician. She ran a number of tests, one even for ovarian cancer (this was quite stress inducing to say the least). Story short, she didn’t see anything wrong at all. Great?
When I visited my OBGYN, he diagnosed me with probable endometriosis right away (usually women have to wait about 8 years on average for a diagnosis, so I feel quite lucky). However, he offered me nothing beyond a trifold brochure on the way out.
I distinctly remember the emotional discomfort of that day. My throat tight. Tears, barely held at bay.
Without any wisdom or support from my OBGYN, I went to Dr. Google. I read the short list of potential options to manage symptoms since there’s no cure. I read that birth control was generally the first thing prescribed to “help.” I had tried every form of BC (except for an IUD) up to that point and was in no way about to endeavor on that path of misery (BC and my body didn’t jive. This was true for me, might not be true for all though!).
For the next several months, I ebbed and flowed with pain and disappointment followed by days of feeling like the same old me.
However, after spending most of a drive home in tears from a particularly hard mountain bike race – hard because I was so emotionally unstable from my chaotic hormone imbalance – I finally decided I would try a Mirena IUD.
The Mirena was actually not bad for about 6 months…until all my symptoms charged right back on up again. Feeling desperate, I searched for more sustainable solutions.
The two I decided on were: an incredible women’s health acupuncturist, and getting surgery done by an endo specialist.
This combination led to notable change in my painful periods. My sunken energy levels still were pretty common though.
This brings me back to the beginning of my story.
During this time frame, I felt so distanced from the person I defined myself as. I couldn’t exert the athlete. The extrovert had turned into an introvert. And my energetic being had taken up the practice of harboring what energy I had.
I learned how my identity can shift, but coupled with the desire to bring myself back has kept me striding ahead.
It has been 3 years (June 2016) since I’ve had surgery. Almost 5 years of regularly practicing yoga (I took this up as a key tool in maintaining my body and mind). Over 3 years of acupuncture. A lot of lifestyle changes – rarely do I drink alcohol (I’m not interested in the stomach pain and cramps it brings). I eat a whole bunch of organic veggies. I’ve also come to understand and accept that some days I just need to chill the eff out. But also, I regularly ride and exercise 6 days a week! Some days it’s a 30 minute walk, others it’s a long ride, but it’s movement nonetheless.
One of the greatest lessons I’ve uncovered, is the immense effect my emotional satisfaction has on my physical wellbeing. I’ve learned my body has a lot to say.
I rarely have a painful period these days. When I do, I look into myself and figure out how to improve my everyday to regain emotional and physical balance. As my emotional self is intrinsically tied to my physical body, I’ve found that if work is getting me down, I need to up the fun on things outside of work. Or, if I feel like my bike isn’t bringing me joy, it’s a yoga and walking week instead. Or maybe a chocolate and massage one.
Ultimately I’ve learned (still learning) I have to accept it all and remember that it’s all temporary. It’s all going to change.
I’m certainly not the same person I was at the beginning of this journey. I’m still figuring things out, still iterating, but I sure am amazed at the strength I have gained. While I don’t wish endometriosis on anyone, I am grateful for the perspective and insight into being human it has granted me.