I am an open book about most things. Blame the Sagittarius in me, but I don't see the point in hiding the most essential parts of our stories. I believe our stories are powerful, and that to tell the truth and be temporarily uncomfortable is worth the authentic relationship on the other side of the discomfort.
Speaking of discomfort, I want to write about something that goes un-talked about most of the time: Women's reproductive health.
In 2016, the Holy Spirit called me to Seattle, Washington, an artsy, moody city which had never been on my radar prior to moving there for seminary school. It was an incredible experience: two years studying within a community of budding pastors, artists, therapists, and truth tellers.
The Seattle School of Theology and Psychology strongly emphasized life "at the intersections." As a part of our full time MA in Theology & Culture program, the school required its students to engage in their own therapeutic work, advising that no matter whether we were budding pastors, theologians, therapists, or artists, we could only lead others so far as we were willing to enter into our own stories.
Being the passionate artist I am, I dove headfirst into this work, grappling with theology to discern my own questions around the existence of God and the reality of suffering in the world. I leaned into my studies, vulnerability in community, and therapeutic work. As the famous book says, the body keeps the score. About six months into this work, I was met with PAIN. And not the emotional kind.
One day in January, like any other woman, I was experiencing THAT time of the month, and the next moment, I found myself curled on the bathroom floor of our bungalow in North Seattle, because the pain in my abdomen was so intense.
"Endometriosis," one male doctor would claim. "Nope," a female doctor would advise. "Can only confirm endo with interior exploration." Fibroids, further testing would reveal. Plural.
So I did what I was advised to do, as a woman of faith. I would pray, and believe for healing. I had seen the Holy Spirit raise my dad up from a cardiac arrest, after all.
Well. I prayed. I contended. And I waited, for the Lord to heal me in one "magical pouf." But the magic pouf was not God's plan. God moves, in His time, and that can be frustrating...and also beautiful.
You see, part of my story was that I had encountered anxiety as a child, and the onset of that would happen during a hospital visit when I was nine. Over the nearly thirty years since, I have learned how to advocate for myself in medical settings. To ask for what I need. To name the previous anxiety I walked through and face the fear of "white coat syndrome" head on.
But what I had never had to undergo was any type of major medical procedure, let alone a surgical procedure where the doctor would cut into my abdomen while I was unconscious.
Years ago, I would have imagined that this was not something I would ever be able to do. But as I went through therapy to manage anxiety, as I overcame panic attacks and learned to be vulnerable in community, and to address hard issues head on, I faced demons time and time again, with God... and overcame them.
So, yes, this might have been one of the biggest mountains I had yet to climb, but could the Holy Spirit not bring me through it the same way She had brought me through panic and anxiety and grief and taught the little girl inside of me that "we get to be big"? Even in medical procedures?
Sometimes the Lord heals automatically, and other times we have to walk the things of life out with Him. Sometimes we have to go to the appointments, get the labs and x-rays, undergo the pre-op consults, and then show up the day of and do the damn thing just so that He can show us we can. Sometimes, we have to face the demons head-on. Together, with God.
The process of getting fibroids removed at UCSF was seamless. The peace of God covered me. I was blessed with an incredible, diverse team of nurses, aneasthetists and surgeons. I was covered in a seamless surgery and easy recovery. I was cared for by my community. I was blessed and provided for throughout. And I feel better in my body than I have since that morning I curled up on the bathroom floor in North Seattle years ago.
Why share all of this? As much as I tend to be an open book, I don't often write about physical health, but I want to share this part of my story because of the healing I see as a result of walking this process out with God. A few things I'm learning:
Women's reproductive health issues are not talked about enough, especially in communities of color. Before I faced the reality of setting a plan in motion to remove the fibroids that had been taking up space in my abdomen, I worked with doctors and nurses to manage the symptoms with birth control and other options. Too often, women are overlooked, or we neglect our physical health to care for others around us. It was not until I was blessed with a true women's advocate who looked at my bloated belly and said, "this is a quality of life thing" that I understood my chronic pain was something that needed to be taken seriously. If you are facing a physical health issue, your pain, too, deserves to be advocated for, taken seriously, and addressed.
"We get to be big." I have heard it said that once we surrender our lives to Christ, there is no prison cell He wants us to remain locked in. The Spirit of God wants to clean out every single room in our house. He won't do this without our "yes," however. God wasn't content to walk me out of the prison cells of PANIC ATTACKS and GRIEF but leave me in the ANXIETY AROUND MEDICAL PROCEDURES stronghold. He wanted to walk with me through that fear so that I could see I need not cower to it. That said, God is a gentleman. He will not force His way into our house. However: once we give Him our yes, get ready to get to sweepin. He likes a clean house, I'm finding.
It's OK to ask for help. We don't get through this life on our own. It was only because of the kindness of a woman's health advocate, and her referral to a clinic which specialized in my condition, that I was able to obtain the relief I am experiencing now. It is only in leaning on community [family and friends] that I could even get home from the hospital and be cared for as I healed. We are not meant to do hard things all on our own. As I continue to rest under this grove of Redwood trees, I am so thankful that I have begun to feel the healing wind of the Holy Spirit continually blowing on my face. We can do all things, friends, together, with God, in His Timing.
Comments