Hypermobile

This is a bit of a divergent topic that I just need to get down on paper (so to speak) for myself for later.

I've been hypermobile my whole life. As a kid, it was a great source of pride -- I could freak people out by bending and folding myself like so much origami (which, for an 8 year old, there is no greater pursuit). It later helped me out in martial arts and dance, but I just always assumed that being ridiculously bendy was a good thing and somehow translated into heightened athleticism.

It turns out that hypermobility is really, really bad for your joints. In normal people, the muscles and tendons around their joints helps to keep them stable and supported. In hypermobile people, those joints take a brutal beating, even when we're not doing crazy flexible things. It's really important that we, more so than regular people, have to work hard to make sure we're building and maintaining the muscle needed to support our joints so that they don't overextend and push us into early osteoarthritis.

There's more to say about that, but I've realized something else while I've been cultivating the frame of mind I need to be vigilant about how I treat my body.

I know there has to be a word for the way I think. That is, I know it's not unique in its overall design but I've learned in the last couple years that it's not exactly normal, either. It's sort of like.... semi-focused ADD. Instead of not being able to focus on something, I instead go down the pipeline of the thing, rapidly considering the pros, cons, consequences, actions, reactions, everything it touches, what the impact would be if it failed, if it succeeds, how it could change, and then the whole thing all over again with the new changes. On paper it sounds super great, like some kind of business superpower and maybe sometimes it is, a little bit (or just high functioning anxiety, but we're not going there). But... overall it alienates those around me because they're not sure where my head is at, because they just said "hey, what if we [plan]?" and while they're enjoying the possibilities of that plan, I've already decided it's not a viable plan because avocados aren't in season. I'll explain my logic to others and they look at me like I'm insane, but (at the risk of sounding really self-aggrandizing) I'm really good about being spot on in my assessment.

It's a sort of mental hypermobility that has similar consequences of physical hypermobility. It beats up the joints -- the things upon which we all hinge that are typically stabilized by our friendships and relationships to others. Things that are supported by our ability to not find the linchpin in a plan and allows us to venture into uncertainty with a smile. Sure, the plan might not work, but venturing on the path with friends toward a goal is valuable in its own right. But for me -- and all the people like me -- it's really hard to move in that direction because we know the plan won't work. So we're stuck being frustrated because it's hard to see the point of expending the energy when you know the end goal isn't attainable.

So I need to strengthen the supporting mental muscles. I need to practice patience, to learn to slow down sometimes, and to even stop myself from chasing possibilities to every possible conclusion. While there's a sense of satisfaction in seeing the all the mechanical parts that make a situation or project work, it's a cold, lifeless fulfillment that lacks joy or warmth, especially when you start to apply it to other, non-work areas of life. 

There's a scene in an anime that I really like that explains this feeling really well. The show is called Princess Tutu (don't judge) and the title character finds herself pulled out of the actual story and into a place where she can see all the moving parts that create the story. It's a world of cogs and clockwork, and she can only see the story through a little porthole. She's lonely and can't reach anyone she cares about -- and they don't know where she is. 

It's very like being where I am these days, both from my perspective and those around me. I've become very difficult for others to relate to or understand, and I've been so lost in all the variables that it's hard to just be. 

Here's to stabilizing the joints. 

Derp

So I don't make a habit of reading back over old entries and realized just now that I did actually talk about my medical things in more detail before my last post, but due to post-surgery drugs I had no memory of it. Ah, well. C'est la vie.

A Recap, Holding Space, and The Underworld

I realized just now that I never actually explained my medical situation beyond mentioning the cyst, and with my intentions with writing going forward, I really need to give a frame of reference to what's going on.

During my ovarian cystectomy, my doctor found a significant volume of endometrial tissue that had attached to my abdominal wall. I had a some show up on a few other internal organs, but the vast (and I do mean vast) majority was on my peritoneum. My doctor removed as much as she could, but it's literally impossible to get it all. She did her best, the nursing staff was extremely supportive, and in the end I received both excellent care and a diagnosis of stage 4 endometriosis.

I knew it was a possibility going in. It's really important to emphasize this because it's a profoundly scary diagnosis to have dropped on you suddenly. It was a relief to have a reason behind the pain -- a pain that I'd jokingly describe as some kind of alien chest-burster hanging out and gnawing at my insides and stabbing at me with tiny alien claws as it scrabbled around in my guts (which in retrospect is probably not as hilarious to others as it is for me). The diagnosis means that this is a condition that I'll have for the rest of my life and that I will never bear children. I could undergo several more surgeries that might possibly allow me to get pregnant, but I'm at extremely high risk for death if I ever attempt to carry a child to term.

It took me some time to come to terms with it and I'm honestly still working through it all. I've never had strong maternal ambitions but having that choice taken away from me isn't a great feeling. The sense that my body has betrayed me has brought up a lot of questions and doubts that I'm slowly processing. As I'm sure many women do in times like this, I've been looking for guidance in the sphere of my religious/spiritual life and am finding very little by way of resources or support. I'm not sure if this is because many pagan women approach their cycle in the context of maiden/mother/crone and menses as part of that sacred cycle, or if it's just simply too painful for women who are drawn to a maternal Goddess to talk about. This is honestly one of the more isolating situations I've been in, and while it's given me the opportunity to walk this path with an unexpected fierce and clear mind, it's also got me in the mind to create resources for other women who face this same situation. Maybe I'll write a book.

Radiant Health by Bell Pine Art Farm

So in a drug-addled post-surgery haze, laying up on the sofa with cushions and provisions nearby (as provided by my absolutely amazing and loving boyfriend) and equipped with my laptop, I renewed my search. Through a series of unlikely links, I eventually came across the Bell Pine Art Farm page and fell in love with both the Radiant Health and Moon Mother sculptures. I ordered them both, and in my painkiller-fueled delirium, I wrote my story in the comments section of my order. I explained everything that I hadn't even told my family, about the lifelong condition and never having children. It was a stark, hopeless confession into the ether. I closed my laptop and succumbed to the sleep that only heavy drugs can provide.

A couple days later, I received an email from the wonderful woman who makes the sculptures. Not only did she respond with absolute love for a complete stranger on the other side of the country, she held space for me. It's hard to explain -- she acknowledged the awfulness fully, accepted my feelings completely and wholly, without the usual "You must feel [emotion]!" or "well at least.." or any number of other things that people say because they don't know what to say, or because they need to diminish my experience for their comfort. She also pointed me in the direction of a worldwide meditation for women happening on August 18th, which I think is exactly what I need. Between my health and this inexplicable spiritual block, this whole summer has been strange and complicated for me. I feel disconnected and spinning past things I wish I could hold fast to and it's taking everything I have to just breathe.

Mother Moon by Bell Pine Art Farm

I've talked previously about feeling closer to some of the Dark Goddesses -- Hecate, Cerridwen -- and I know I must travel to the underworld to face and process everything that's happening, but I feel weak and unable to muscle through that journey. I feel helpless, feeling like I know what I need to do but can't physically or spiritually do it. It's happened to me physically once before, where I was getting out of the bath and my whole body just couldn't hold itself up anymore. I ended up lying on the cold tile of the bathroom floor for almost an hour, just breathing, until I could get the strength to lift myself up.

(Now I know that was an important symptom of S4 endometriosis, but I wonder if spiritual fatigue can tie in with that as well? Food for research later)

I've been reading about Dark Goddess journeying lately, and there was one passage in Jane Meredith's book about those of us who may have been stuck in the underworld for a time -- and that the issue is less about journeying into the darkness and more about learning how to ascend back into the light.

Journeying to the Dark Goddess changes us each time we undertake that journey. To prepare to visit the Dark Goddess we have to stop and listen to ourselves; deeply. We have to admit to the parts of our lives that are not working, that are making us unhappy or even ill and we have to be prepared to do something about them. To descend into the Underworld we have to give away, one by one, all the things that hold us back from change. This can feel like we're losing everything. Meeting the Dark Goddess herself is at the heart of the mystery and is different each time, but that is the point where change happens. The return journey -- that of the Ascent -- is the time when we put those changes into action, integrating what we have learnt.

For some women, journeying toward the Dark Goddess is not the issue. Some of us feel like we've spent all or most of our lives with her. We might be artists, healers, mothers, and dreamers. But maybe we've also gone through depression; been out of control with addictions or self-harming; or felt balanced on the edge of insanity, unable to escape the Underworld and the immediate and continual presence of the Dark Goddess. When this is happening, learning how to depart from the Underworld is the issue. But these alternatives -- barely visiting our hidden selves unless absolutely forced to or else not being able to get away -- are both stories of imbalance; how to visit and how to return.

Going into the dark as others have described it has always made me feel like I didn't understand the process exactly, because when they described confronting their shadow self I felt like that was something I do every day. Not in the sense that I'm some kind of badass who fearlessly looks her darkness in the eye, but more in the sense that I'm acutely aware of every awful part of myself, my terrible habits, the things that I've said that inadvertently hurt others; the things I try to hide from myself, things I shy away from, things I'm terrified of acting upon because I'm paralyzed with the notion that I can't actually make the situation any better.

The up side to this is when people try to point out these negative traits to hurt me, they aren't able to because I live with a kind of darker self-awareness all the time. On the other hand, it's harder for me to accept compliments because I feel like if the person really knew me, they might not say kind things.

It's about balance. For now I'm just trying to slow the spin and get my bearings.