I just want to forget.

I don't know... 

 

 

…how much I’m going to be around the next several days - might be ‘not at all’ might be ‘all the time’. I’m really struggling with some stuff and Facebook (anyone surprised here?) just really screwed my mind up. One of my ‘Christian’ friends (who has been unfriend-ed, I know it’s rude, but really I couldn’t help it) posted a picture… God, I don’t even know if I can bear to explain or type it out…. of an aborted baby, bloody, horrible, dead.

I just had a hysterectomy. They removed my uterus. My husband and I have been trying to get pregnant for almost 4 years, unsuccessfully, because of severe  endometriosis and adenomyosis. I am struggling very hard with my emotions and feelings because of this. I have not been able to cook raw meat, and I've barely been able to eat beef since I came home from the hospital. It grosses me out and makes me sick. Then about 30 minutes ago I saw the above stated post on facebook.

My depression is getting worse, I’m taking more pain pills than usual because I’m hurting more, but I’m not sure if those two things are actually connected or not. I’ll NOT be on FB for awhile, that I can tell you - but I don’t know about here or my tumblr.

I need to paint. I’ve started a new painting, but I’m hesitant to show it online because 99% of the time my paintings get ignored, and I honestly don’t think I can deal with that right now on top of everything else.

How do you unsee something? I need to know if there actually is a way. I  have finally stopped crying and only threw up once...so much for that casadilla . I feel like I’m dying on the inside and I don’t know how to stop. I feel so very very alone right now. And broken. I can’t smile about anything. I feel like I don’t even want to breathe, but my body makes me.

Pray for me? Think happy thoughts for me? Something, anything. Just…. I don’t know. I want to say “whatever, fuck it, I just need to move on” but I can’t, I don’t know how. I don’t even know how to get this stuff out of my head, off my mind. I just keep seeing it over and over and over.

Anyway … there it is. I wasn’t planning on really getting into it, but I guess I did - someone will probably say “it’s good for you get it out”… just so you know. Thank you for taking the time to read this (if anyone does) and I hope you have a good rest of your day.

p.s. Unless you are Mr. Man, please don't call or text me today. I probably won't answer, I just really don't want to talk about it. I just want to go pick up Da Boy from school and hug him forever until I stop feeling like this. Also, If this IS Mr. Man reading this, I'll call you when we get home, but can we please not talk about this part? Thanks and I love you soooo much. I miss you and I wish you could come home. I'll be waiting for you when you get off work.

~Mira

I don't wanna talk about it.

But it seems like I have to. I've been putting it off. I'd rather just talk about my latest obsession; the BBC shows "Merlin" and "Sherlock", or tell you about how my Pastor hates "fish-breathed, fur ball vomiting house cats" (yes, that is a direct quote) or maybe about how long my hair is now, or something cute about Da Boy. But no .. it's time I get this off my .... well, chest ain't the right word... Soul? Heart? Mind? 


On January 9th, I had a hysterectomy. They took my uterus, left my ovaries, and burned off the Endometriosis. <---- That word right there just echos in my head everytime I say it or think it. ENDO....ENDo...ENdo...Endo...endo......


I am still recovering. Well, my body is recovering. Me, I'm not so sure about. 

 "You don't have a soul. You are a Soul. You have a body." ♥ - C.S. Lewis (quoted from a friend on facebook) 

My body is recovering, quite nicely I think. My weight is down (how the hell much can an empty uterus weigh?!) to 124. My incisions are glued (they only did stitches on the inside) and although they sometimes still are painful, it's nothing I can't handle. I still am having a hard time bending down or walking very far (or fast) but hell, with my back that's nothing I'm not used to. I'm going to leave the rest out; and put it down as T.M.I. (trust me on this one, I feel bad enough that I've already told Mr. Man about so much).

The 'me' inside though - is changed - more than the physical; the scars, the pain, the bleeding, the bullshit. A small example of what I mean....

Last night, I cooked dinner. Simple, easy, no big thing, Hamburger Helper Stroganoff. As I dumped the raw ground beef into the pan to brown it, I couldn't help but see the red, the uncooked, the raw ... the meat. All I could think about was my missing uterus. Where is it? What did they do with it? Stop Miranda (I said in my head) It's a COW, for Christ's sake! Yes, this is a cow... you're right. Cows are girls, oh my god, what if there is cow uterus in here??!  Knock it off! You are just making it worse, just cook the fucking meat and get it brown! I turned up the heat. Cooked it faster. It turned brown, looked just like hamburger (like what the hell else should it look like?!). No problemo. I pulled myself together and continued cooking. Served dinner and sat down to eat. Mr. Man and I prayed and as I took the first forkful into my mouth, I couldn't imagine that this was beef. I knew it was, but I couldn't accept it. Couldn't make myself believe it.

Oh holy fuck I can't eat this!!!

I tried. I really did, but after a few more bites, I pushed aside my plate and ate my french bread slice.


It's that kind of thing that sneaks up on me, unawares, and bites me in the brain. And now, even as I type these letters to close my entry, I can't stop thinking about that meat. And here I was, so proud of myself for chatting nicely with that (very) pregnant lady we saw last night (I even smiled) asking her when she is due, and did she know if it was a boy or a girl. (April 23rd, a girl, to be named Brooklyn Savannah)

...now do you see why I didn't wanna talk about it?

~M