Positively (Im)perfect

I am #1in10, and I'm on a mission to spread awareness on proper treatment of endometriosis so other women, I pray, can avoid suffering for the same life-altering span (18 years) as me. Endometriosis is a likely-genetic disease where tissue similar to that of the endometrial tissue in the uterus (which either nourishes a newly-formed baby or is shed through menstruation if conception doesn't occur) grows outside of the uterus; usually in the abdominal cavity, often on other organs within the abdomen, and sometimes rare locations such as the lungs, throat, or even in the brain. This displaced endometriosis tissue responds to hormone fluctuations as well as produces its own estrogen , and causes widespread and progressive acute pain, fatigue, and infertility among many other symptoms.   This is not a small problem. Approximately 10% of women worldwide endure endometriosis (akin to the number of women with diabetes), yet for the majority of women suffering from endometri

"Come and see." These were the words Jesus spoke in last Sunday’s gospel--His response when the apostles first encountered Jesus and asked where He was going. Our priest shared that praying on this passage had led to his vacation, and invited us to try too. “Ask Jesus where He is going and meditate on His response to come and see .” It's no secret that I'm a sucker for some good Ignatian meditation, and I brightened at the idea, thinking of all the ways Jesus might be calling me. Sinking to my knees after communion, I immediately went to my imagination—watching Jesus approach, feeling the possibility of adventure, the magnetic pull to follow. Where are we going? I sang out in my heart.  Where do You want to lead? The Two words that returned shook me from my prayerful, hope-filled reverie: “To Calvary.” Calvary?  I recoiled in fear, grasping to qualify it with some strand of hope—what was that my friend always said? “From the cross alway

Choosing Hope. When I found this article in one of my Endometriosis Facebook groups last week, I intended only to hit "share." But as I started writing words that I hoped would help others listen -- so that God willing, other women may be saved the same length and depth and breadth of unnecessary suffering as me--it was as if a dam broke open. 18 years of suffering poured forth into possibly the longest Facebook "status" I've ever shared. But for good reason. The more I learn along this journey, the more I understand that some information bears repeating. So I've copied both my words and the linked article here in hopes that it will more quickly ripple out to the women who so desperately need it. " Hear me loud and clear. Hear me through the 18 years—more than half my life—of suffering in pain so intense that even morphine barely took the edge off. Hear me as I echo every single word the woman who wrote this article has bravely shared . 

“All that is good, all that is true, all that is beautiful brings us to God.” –Pope Francis We live in a world overflowing with beauty.  Yet we tend to relegate our ideals of beauty to pages of a magazine, places of intrigue, exotic destinations, a somewhere or a something new and different enough to jolt our senses awake and into an attitude of appreciation.  The truth, though, is that God has built a cathedral of ever-changing, ever-present beauty right in our daily sphere of being. So often, we walk past it with unseeing eyes and overworked hearts, overwhelmed by the craziness of work or family or holiday doings which keep our minds spinning and our stress mounting and our souls blind--blind to the simple, profound beauties created to punctuate our day with the kind of reminder that connects us at the soul-level with the truth of God’s love and creative genius. It's acceptable in the breakneck pace of our world to confine the when and where of our pl

It's been one hell of a "season" lately. Those who know me well know I don't say that lightly. My health continues to go down the pooper; I've made more appointments and gotten more sympathy from no-nonsense medical professionals than I know what to do with. But the only answers are guesses at best, the only suggestions shots in the dark.  I'm tired. So weary.  I'm told I hide it well, which I suppose is good and bad. I don't need to spend my days constantly weighing down the rest of the world with my woes, especially if there are good moments to be had [and there are, so much more than the bad].  But bad moments are also part of this reality. Some days, this endometriosis pain is just a real bleepword--no euphemisms or platitudes about it to soften the blow. The daily, sometimes hourly game of Russian Roulette ("will my body tolerate this food again or not? Will the pain be better or worse if I ____?") is physically and

The end of the year totally snuck up on me again, and I know I'll soon be accosted with all sorts of reminders that I need to make resolutions or goals in addition to remembering that I need to write a 5 instead of a 4 on the date that I never know anyway. I'm almost tempted to say that I'm boycotting resolutions in 2015, but that's not entirely true. Instead, I've decided on a focus for the new year based on what's drained the most energy and potential for growth out of family this past year: health. Physical health, emotional health, mental health, spiritual health. It's all tied together, and it's all taken a hit this past year, not just for me but for a number of us in the family. Though it took awhile--probably far longer than it should have--I'm finally at a point where I'm willing to do something about it. After all, with a new job and insurance come new possibilities...kind of. I'm actually still in the dark about most of th

Originally published on September 18, 2011 It’s amazing to realize how much has transpired in the space of a year. Pearl earrings from Peter--for our baby who would have been due in June A mere year and change ago, I was in a pretty dark place, having seen yet another “specialist,” trying to process the word ‘infertility’ as it was being thrown at me, and wondering what it meant for our future—a future that we’d dreamed would be filled with the beautiful chaos of lots of kids in the years to come. Then, within weeks of hearing that ugly word, we were face to face with the full reality of my diagnosis as it played out in front of us, saying goodbye to the new little life that we’d created with God’s help, seemingly filled with promise. Three months later, another painful goodbye. I knew it was pointless to question God’s will, since my mere human logic simply couldn't comprehend infinite wisdom. But I felt I wasn't ready to let go of the dreams we had or the expectat

Originally published on April 15th, 2011 “This is not about where you've been, but where your brokenness brings you to…”   –Tenth Avenue North There are times when the experiences that define us come to bear a significance we can no longer ignore. As the past many years of living with endometriosis begin to blur together, I have to acknowledge that it has defined who I am despite my desire for the opposite.  Over the last year, as my life has taken some sudden and unexpected turns, reality has cemented itself with certainty against my stubbornness to accept it. As I sat in the specialist’s office last year—hearing the words I least wanted to hear—I had no idea how quickly we would see the far reaching effects of my condition.