The ish my mother never told me

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I am dedicating this post to my best friend, Afeisha. One day, after a very, what felt like a never ending week, I decided to go straight to my apartment and take a nap. I was awaken by a phone call from my best friend screaming my full government name on the other side of the phone. I quickly get up and wipe the drool off of my face, “What? what happened what’s wrong?” and she says, ready for it? “Nothing, I just realized I’ve been wearing the wrong pad size my whole entire life!” …. I followed that with a “Seriously?? Are you just sitting there reading the back of the Always infinity pad box? and your first thought was to call me?”  Afeisha responded, “Well, do you know what pad size, you’re supposed to wear?” (Me: Stammering for a response) “Exactly!” I’m going to write a book called “The ish My Mother NEVER told me.”

She’s got a point ya’ll, and really needs to trademark that book title (MESSAGE), because the more and more I lean towards the tail end of my selfish 20’s, I think I’ve been able to add more and more to that list.


Here I am, thinking I am a healed  woman, deliver”t” from the most bedridden pain I have ever experienced. Then, to my surprise, I’m back in the Emergency Room for hours! Giving labs, drawing blood, having doctors poke around at me, with their experimental hands. Of course they put me in the room where the Ravens were winning, My boyfriend, a Ravens fan, was able to watch NFL and be mega supportive and loving boyfriend at the same time. (IT’S PATS NATION THO)… but I digress.


This is “the ish my mother NEVER told me.” She never said, that after a certain age, our ovaries could get cysts that stick to them like balloons and get bigger and bigger until they explode! I wish I could say I was being dramatic, but I am not.  I don’t want to hear that this is a woman’s issue, it happens every time we ovulate, hoopla.  I’ve heard it all before and I’m ready to break up with this cyst-thing pronto. I’m in pain, I can’t eat things I want to eat because I will probably vomit and I can’t release my stress hormones at the gym, because the thing will burst and straight to surgery I go. Not to mention, this is Q3 of law school, I have things TUH DO!


But seriously, can we really blame our moms? Because 9 times out of 10 they have no idea what the heck they’re doing either, but they just look so confident, and statuesque doing it. I run to this woman if I have a paper cut. Ok, I am not ashamed, to learn faster!


There are really just some things that can’t be explained. One minute, I’m ready to conquer the gym, take on a serious leg day, some HIIT levels and literally the next minute I’m ready to pass out after walking up a flight of stairs.


If I had a session scheduled with a trainer, he would probably think I was flaking on yet another day of working out, when really I’m experiencing the worse, uncertainty. We are told to exercise, stay healthy, except if you’re a woman with a complex cyst, you’re ordered to rest, and no strenuous activity. UGH!


What is in our water? Is the microwave to blame? Are we inhaling too many chemicals on a daily basis?? #HEYSIS I need answers, because I’ve had enough.


I’m this )( close from  locking myself away in a plastic bubble. I will go back to happy positive vibes next week, but today I am just over it.


 How do we prepare our young girls, our mentees and ourselves, to be self aware and take better care of their bodies? How do we prepare them mentally for the things our woman bodies do that are beyond our control? How do we help the men in our lives understand us better as  allies, without hitting them with our residual mood swing moments, that drive them away completely?


I’m reaching out to my sister friends, to share their love and light and mostly to calm me down.


 I am just reaching out. period.


Love & Light,
 
Raina Jacques


I do not own rights to the photo above.

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Author: Amakvitaa

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