Listen to your body (Part 1)
I’m sure I’m not alone in having a history of being trigger-happy when it comes to pressing the mute button of my body. But what happens when we turn up the volume?
One foot is missing a sock and I have an ice pack stuffed inside my (elasticated-waisted) trousers. I’m day 11 post hysterectomy – it was too painful to bend and reach my left foot this morning, and the 10cm scar across my abdomen is throbbing and uncomfortable.
My insides feel like someone went at them with an ice cream scoop but, for the last week, my thoughts have been begging to be written down.
I've managed a couple of brief entries in my diary, and daily factual updates in my ‘hysterectomy recovery journal’ but – until now – I've been unable to keep my attention fully focused on the swirling mass of words that surround me.
I can see them in my peripheral vision – like flitting butterflies that tease me with their flashing colours and merging shapes before disappearing from my sight.
If I had a net maybe I could catch them and pin them to the page.
But I doubt I could swing the net fast enough in my current state. Every movement is being played out at half-speed. It would be artistic and lovely if my life was a slo-mo video of waves building and crashing on the shore. But it is none of these things. Instead, my tentative and guarded movements resemble a woozy bear, stumbling into the daylight after a long, hard hibernation.
As the shimmering wings flash around me, one group of particularly magnificent specimens (a rabble of monarchs, perhaps) fly in formation to spell out a phrase:
LISTEN TO YOUR BODY
It’s a phrase that has been repeated to me many times over these last weeks and one that sounds so simple on the surface.
But I’m sure I’m not alone in having a history of being trigger-happy when it comes to pressing the mute button of my body.
Actively turning up the volume and listening takes an effort and a leap of faith that I was not fully prepared for.
Because, as it turns out, my body has a lot to say.
TO BE CONTINUED…
Dear Reader,
These pages chronicle my “living experiment of desire in queer midlife”.
One of the big questions that I had when I decided to have a hysterectomy was:
“What impact will this latest life change have on my sexual self?”
It’s too early to tell. And, so far, I’ve come up with way more questions than answers about the impact on all different aspects of my life – including my sex life.
One thing I am holding onto, however, is the possibility that different can be even better.
If I feel different in my body, how might that translate to more pleasure and enjoyment?
If my libido changes (again), how might that open up more, or as yet unknown, desire lines?
If I’m able to let go of my attachment to what was, what might I discover in its place?
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If these kinds of questions make you curious about your own sex life, I think you’ll love my new book SEX MEETS LIFE (click here to find out more)
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Before I can answer these questions, there’s a healing journey to make.
I’m not going to bypass it and I’m not going to be silent about it.
I’ve seen very little queer representation when it comes to hysterectomy support.
I’ve already faced assumptions from medical personnel about what kind/s of sex I might want to “resume”, and about the gender of the person I’d be doing that with.
So, I hope you’ll stick around while I continue this living experiment. Let’s turn the page to a new chapter – one where our plucky heroine traverses an initiation into the world of crones and boldly takes the next steps of her journey with desire.
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May you heal fully and smoothly. Rest and nourish yourself.
Sometimes listening to other people close to us may help us tune into our bodies!
Last summer my acupuncturist was in the process of moving toward bilateral breast reduction surgery and suggested I might want to consider it myself. When I got home I mentioned it to my 27yo daughter. Raising her, I was very careful not to let my body image issues leak out — in this society she’d have enough of her own to contend with without my unfinished business complicating things. So I was surprised when she immediately said, “Yes! I think you should do it.”
While I never lamented my breasts to her, I hadn’t added up the frequent small (to me) complaints about neck + back pain, and she had. Her response was a welcome perspective that nudged me out of my complacency with my discomfort. Which, I’m happy to say, is largely gone.
For anyone considering breast reduction surgery:
* Your first request will probably be turned down as a matter of course (US healthcare, need I say more?). Persist.
* Surgeons will confirm that no one regrets reduction, while a significant percentage regret enhancement. Your mileage may vary.