Today’s reading comes at the eve before my hysterectomy.
Overwhelming fear has shot my nerves and my heart. I am trying to read the Scriptures to calm myself down but my hands are too shaky. So, instead I am packing up things and trying to get my mind off of everything with the humdrum of routine.
Am I to go for You? I willingly submit myself to Your desires, Father, I shout “Here I am!” Though I try my hardest to be cleansed and prepared for Your loving hand I am still afraid that I am not good enough in the back of my heart. My anxiety gnaws and gnashes its teeth at me. I bite my cheeks and draw blood. (A newer habit formed to release some of my pent up energies, though not the healthiest.)
Ready or not I have to be ready for the journey that awaits me in every sense of the word – the physical drive, the mental route, and the emotional toils. I’ve been mourning my ovaries still and now it’s time for my uterus to go too. A tiny part of my heart whispers I’ll never be happy again. My hands tremor so much I dropped my coffee cup this morning. A huge part of me doesn’t want to go. It feels like I am walking to the electric chair, taking the long stroll down to the end of the world. The end of my world, my desires being ripped out by the careful instruments of robotics today.
The end result is I am afraid. I never liked to be afraid, I am a machine when it comes to emotional turmoil. I kept my head above water for other disgusting violences… but this is somehow different. I know what I am walking into and I know my biology/body will be forever altered. My vine will no longer produce fruits of the womb. I wince when I think of the term, “bearing good fruits” because I always took it to mean that we bear children, our good fruits, and the ones who couldn’t and who bore bad fruits were burned. I understand it’s a faulty interpretation… but I have a pained heart recalling those verses.
It shouldn’t be a matter right? I know my Father is watching over me. I know all is according to His timing. I wish I had someone to talk to about this right now. I wish I had a hug. I’m trembling off and on. I like to pretend I am doing okay and I can handle all this though the truth of the matter is that I am a scared little mouse in the jaws of a murder machine, at the mercy of people I’ve never met before.
I have my bag packed and unpacked and packed again. Is my entire life going to be stuffed into this backpack, the final items I’ll be found with? I’m overthinking again. Will they just throw them out because I have no next of kin, just like my ashes? I hope they give my teddy bear to someone who needs him.
I’m rambling but I think that that’s what I’ll do before I get going. Just ramble and ramble my anxieties into this blog because that’s what it’s meant for. To have a record of my life that I can shakily write my fears and dreams. Yahusha will guide me of that I am sure. I am a timid person attempting to stand in the way of the worst thing that I ever believed that could ever happen to me. In the back of my ears I hear him telling me I fucked up, I hear I’ll never have this, I hear you’re a terrible mom, I hear all the things that foretold this moment. This horrible, terrifying, all encompassingly dreadful surgery. I never wanted my paranoia, my loathsome fears, to be true. I never wanted them all to be right.