He hugs me tight and lifts me oh so carefully off of the cotton sheets. Our lips press against each other and I can feel his hand caress the nape of my neck, as his fingers linger on my scar that trails from the base of my skull to right where my neck should curve. My face flushes and for a moment the world washes away, it’s just us. I close my eyes and let go of my worry, I let my body surrender and as he lays back and gazes up at me, I tip my head to the side and roll my shoulders back and as I let out a sigh I yelp,
“Oh Ouch.”
I immediately grab my neck and halt, my eyes closed as if any movement would cause something to go horribly wrong, but if I keep my eyes shut, it means it’s not really happening, I can still be in this delicious fantasy. My disc is slipping, or my dislocated shoulder is acting up, either way…not sexy, back to fucking reality.
We grab a supportive pillow and exchange loving words but I can’t shake the immense feelings of sadness. Here we go again. My body is doing its thing again, as I’m just along for the ride. My thoughts spiral as we lie there unable to even gently thrash around in the sheets.
“You are so useless now.”
“This used to be so easy.”
“You’re pathetic.”
“This wouldn’t turn anyone on.”
The thoughts compound in internalized ableism and I carry my shame in every move I make. I then look down at my belly, and see my scars.
Three small scars that resemble the scoring of a potato before you pop it in the microwave. But these scars didn’t produce a delicious meal topped with bacon bits and melted cheese instead they were the product of a total hysterectomy that removed my uterus, cervix, fallopian tubes, and ovaries, not sexy.
“Does that make me even more undesirable now that I can’t have children? Are my scars a reminder that I’m useless?” I thought to myself.
Then I remember I’m no longer bleeding out for two weeks out of the month, how much my life has improved since that literal cancer has been evicted from my body… and so I do my best to zone back into the moment. He kisses my collar bone, I take a deep breath, I am safe. I am safe with my husband, in this moment, we are here. But now I was thinking about baked potatoes.
There I was lying there in our bed, with the love of my life, he was worshiping my pained body and all I could do was grieve what I used to know, what I was once promised, and what I would like to have. And then came the fucking pain the dull aching pain starting from behind my eyes seeping down to my shoulders. I take a deep breath, thinking of all of the skills I’ve practiced over the years, and I see the baked potato again, god damnit.
Okay deep breaths, I can do this. I open my eyes, I can see through the haze, this is how it is, it’s going to be okay.
This is Body Grief.
Chronic Pain and Intimacy. Disability and Sex. Chronic Illness and Love.
My night stand decorated in hypo allergenic lube, an adaptive vibeator, neck brace, pain pills, dog treats for my service dog, alongside my wheelchair and foam pillows for support. Newlywed life at 33 looks so different that I ever thought it would, but lord knows I have my adaptive underwear, cannabis, and a damn good sense of humor to get through it, This is Body Grief!
Did you enjoy this short n sweet read? I will be doing more of these “journal” type newsletters for a quick read and peak into my life with Body Grief.
𝐼 𝑡𝑜𝑡𝑎𝑙𝑙𝑦 𝑢𝑛𝑑𝑒𝑟𝑠𝑡𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝑡ℎ𝑖𝑠. 𝐼 𝑛𝑜𝑡 𝑜𝑛𝑙𝑦 𝑠𝑢𝑓𝑓𝑒𝑟 𝑓𝑟𝑜𝑚 𝐶𝑃𝑇𝑆𝐷 𝑓𝑟𝑜𝑚 𝑠𝑒𝑣𝑒𝑟𝑎𝑙 𝑓𝑜𝑟𝑚𝑠 𝑜𝑓 𝑡𝑟𝑎𝑢𝑚𝑎 𝑔𝑜𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑏𝑎𝑐𝑘 𝑡𝑜 𝑐ℎ𝑖𝑙𝑑ℎ𝑜𝑜𝑑, 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑓𝑖𝑟𝑠𝑡 𝑏𝑒𝑖𝑛𝑑 𝑚𝑜𝑙𝑒𝑠𝑦𝑒𝑑 𝑎𝑡 9 𝑦𝑒𝑠 𝑜𝑙𝑑, 𝑐𝑟𝑒𝑎𝑡𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑎𝑙𝑙 𝑘𝑖𝑛𝑑𝑠 𝑜𝑓 𝑏𝑜𝑑𝑦 𝑖𝑚𝑎𝑔𝑒 𝑖𝑠𝑠𝑢𝑒𝑠; 𝑏𝑢𝑡 𝑖 ℎ𝑎𝑣𝑒 𝑏𝑒𝑒𝑛 𝑎𝑓𝑓𝑙𝑖𝑐𝑡𝑒𝑑 𝑤𝑖𝑡ℎ 𝑠𝑒𝑣𝑒𝑟𝑎𝑙 𝑐ℎ𝑟𝑜𝑛𝑖𝑐 ℎ𝑒𝑎𝑙𝑡ℎ 𝑖𝑙𝑙𝑛𝑒𝑠𝑠𝑒𝑠 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝑖𝑠𝑠𝑢𝑒𝑠(𝑝𝑟𝑜𝑏𝑎𝑏𝑙𝑦 𝑟𝑒𝑙𝑎𝑡𝑒𝑑 𝑡𝑜 𝑎𝑙𝑙 𝑚𝑦 𝑡𝑟𝑎𝑢𝑚𝑎). 𝐼 𝑡𝑜𝑜 ℎ𝑎𝑣𝑒 ℎ𝑎𝑑 𝑎𝑛 𝑒𝑎𝑟𝑙𝑦 ℎ𝑖𝑠𝑡𝑜𝑟𝑒𝑐𝑡𝑜𝑚𝑦 𝑎𝑛𝑑 ℎ𝑎𝑣𝑒 ℎ𝑎𝑑 𝑡ℎ𝑟𝑒𝑒 𝑏𝑎𝑐𝑘 𝑠𝑢𝑟𝑔𝑒𝑟𝑖𝑒𝑠 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑙𝑎𝑠𝑡 𝑏𝑒𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑎 𝑠𝑝𝑖𝑛𝑎𝑙 𝑓𝑢𝑠𝑖𝑜𝑛. 𝑆𝑜 𝑖 𝑐𝑎𝑛𝑡 𝑚𝑜𝑣𝑒 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑤𝑎𝑦 𝑖 𝑜𝑛𝑐𝑒 𝑐𝑜𝑢𝑙𝑑 𝑖𝑛 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑏𝑒𝑑𝑟𝑜𝑜𝑚 𝑎𝑠 𝑤𝑒𝑙𝑙 𝑎𝑠 𝑖𝑛 𝑜𝑡ℎ𝑒𝑟 𝑐𝑖𝑟𝑐𝑢𝑚𝑠𝑡𝑎𝑛𝑐𝑒𝑠. 𝐼 ℎ𝑎𝑣𝑒 𝐷𝑒𝑔𝑒𝑛𝑒𝑟𝑎𝑡𝑖𝑣𝑒 𝐷𝑖𝑠𝑐 𝐷𝑖𝑠𝑒𝑎𝑠𝑒 𝑠𝑜 𝑖 𝑠𝑡𝑖𝑙𝑙 ℎ𝑎𝑣𝑒 𝑑𝑖𝑠𝑐 ℎ𝑒𝑟𝑛𝑖𝑎𝑡𝑖𝑜𝑛 𝑖𝑛 𝑚𝑦 𝑐𝑒𝑟𝑣𝑖𝑐𝑎𝑙, 𝑡ℎ𝑜𝑟𝑎𝑐𝑖𝑐, 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝑙𝑢𝑚𝑏𝑎𝑟 𝑠𝑝𝑖𝑛𝑒. 𝐼 𝑡𝑜𝑜 ℎ𝑎𝑣𝑒 𝑠𝑐𝑎𝑟𝑠, 𝑎 𝑛𝑖𝑔ℎ𝑡 𝑠𝑡𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝑓𝑢𝑙𝑙 𝑜𝑓 𝑚𝑒𝑑𝑖𝑐𝑎𝑡𝑖𝑜𝑛𝑠, 𝑖𝑚 𝑑𝑖𝑠𝑎𝑏𝑙𝑒𝑑, 𝑖 ℎ𝑎𝑡𝑒 𝑚𝑦 𝑏𝑜𝑑𝑦 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝑚𝑦 𝑤𝑒𝑖𝑔ℎ𝑡 𝑏𝑢𝑡 ℎ𝑎𝑣𝑒 𝑎 ℎ𝑎𝑟𝑑 𝑡𝑖𝑚𝑒 𝑙𝑜𝑠𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑤𝑒𝑖𝑔ℎ𝑡 𝑑𝑢𝑒 𝑡𝑜 𝑖𝑚𝑚𝑜𝑏𝑖𝑙𝑖𝑡𝑦 𝑖𝑠𝑠𝑢𝑒𝑠 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝑝𝑎𝑖𝑛. 𝐼 ℎ𝑎𝑣𝑒 𝑠𝑒𝑣𝑒𝑟𝑎𝑙 𝑜𝑡ℎ𝑒𝑟 𝑐ℎ𝑟𝑜𝑛𝑖𝑐 ℎ𝑒𝑎𝑙𝑡ℎ 𝑖𝑠𝑠𝑢𝑒𝑠 𝑏𝑢𝑡 𝑖 𝑐𝑎𝑛𝑡 𝑙𝑖𝑠𝑡 𝑡ℎ𝑒𝑚 𝑎𝑙𝑙 ℎ𝑒𝑟𝑒. 𝐼 𝑗𝑢𝑠𝑡 𝑤𝑎𝑛𝑡𝑒𝑑 𝑦𝑜𝑢 𝑡𝑜 𝑘𝑛𝑜𝑤, 𝑦𝑜𝑢𝑟 𝑛𝑜𝑡 𝑎𝑙𝑜𝑛𝑒. 𝑆𝑒𝑥 𝑖𝑠 𝑎𝑙𝑚𝑜𝑠𝑡 𝑡𝑜𝑟𝑡𝑢𝑟𝑒 𝑚𝑒𝑛𝑡𝑎𝑙𝑙𝑦 𝑎𝑠 𝑤𝑒𝑙𝑙 𝑎𝑠 𝑝ℎ𝑦𝑠𝑖𝑐𝑎𝑙𝑙𝑦 𝑓𝑜𝑟 𝑚𝑒 𝑠𝑜𝑚𝑒 𝑡𝑖𝑚𝑒𝑠 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝑐𝑎𝑢𝑠𝑒𝑠 𝑚𝑒 𝑡𝑜 𝑔𝑒𝑡 𝑑𝑖𝑠𝑟𝑒𝑔𝑢𝑙𝑎𝑡𝑒𝑑 𝑒𝑚𝑜𝑡𝑖𝑜𝑛𝑎𝑙𝑙𝑦 𝑠𝑜𝑚𝑒𝑡𝑖𝑚𝑒𝑠. 𝐼𝑡𝑠 ℎ𝑎𝑟𝑑 𝑡𝑜 𝑒𝑛𝑗𝑜𝑦 𝑠𝑜𝑚𝑒𝑡ℎ𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑤ℎ𝑒𝑛 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑤ℎ𝑜𝑙𝑒 𝑡𝑖𝑚𝑒 𝑦𝑜𝑢𝑟 𝑚𝑖𝑛𝑑𝑠 𝑠𝑝𝑖𝑛𝑛𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑜𝑢𝑡 𝑜𝑓 𝑐𝑜𝑛𝑡𝑟𝑜𝑙 𝑎𝑏𝑜𝑢𝑡 ℎ𝑜𝑤 𝑓𝑙𝑎𝑤𝑒𝑑 𝑦𝑜𝑢 𝑙𝑜𝑜𝑘 𝑜𝑟 𝑓𝑒𝑒𝑙 𝑙𝑖𝑘𝑒 𝑦𝑜𝑢 𝑝𝑟𝑒𝑓𝑜𝑟𝑚. 𝐼 𝑡𝑜𝑜 𝑘𝑛𝑜𝑤 𝑏𝑜𝑑𝑦 𝑔𝑟𝑖𝑒𝑓 𝑎𝑙𝑙 𝑡𝑜𝑜 𝑤𝑒𝑙𝑙.
I love the way this is written, it takes you right into the moment. A moment I've experienced in many similar ways - being chronically ill. I'm post-partum (via emergency c-section, and a heaping amount of birth trauma) and being a mother can feel verrry unsexy, too. My partner also is extremely caring and has never had a moment he doesn't feel attracted to me, but the internal shame can really overpower that sometimes. Thank you for sharing this with us, I look forward to more! Sending love to you, for when you have none for yourself.