Dear 24 Year Old Me

a note to myself

The night before my hysterectomy, I wrote a letter to my 24 year old self. That’s how old I was when I first really started my journey to dealing with my disaster of a uterus. 13 years later, and countless other milestones, I finally got the help I needed.

Dear 24 Year Old Gabby,

It’s happening! Someone finally listened to you! You’re getting a hysterectomy tomorrow. They finally found a fibroid. A doctor finally cared enough and paid enough attention to your symptoms to dig a little deeper. Try an extra test.

That test had the answer in 10 seconds. There’s a fibroid growing in the middle of your uterus. Ultrasounds didn’t catch it. But the scope did.

The fighting is over. The fear is over. The pain, the tests, the medical trauma, the stress, it’s all over now. We fought the fight for a long time, we lost many battles, the risks were high, but in the end we did it. We won the war.

It’s time to let the anger go along with the organ. We were listening to it all along, we knew it was mad and we were mad with it. We were both right.

But the anger needs to leave along with the organ. It’s time to send it on its way so the area can heal, so my heart can heal, so my body can adjust. It’s time to move on.

There’s no silver lining, there’s no “thanks you served me well” conversations to have. We’ve been at war with each other from the beginning. There’s no grand lesson learned to carry on and say “well I’m grateful for this experience because…” and that’s ok. This is part of my story. I will tell it. And I will do what I can to help save lives by telling it.

Now it’s time to usher in peace. Rest, peace, and healing are on our agenda now. We are moving on and moving forward.

Love, 37 Year Old Gabby

If you’re struggling, keep going. We need you here. 💙