Here I am, in bed, during the first week of recovery post-total hysterectomy with salpingectomy and oopherectomy — which means everything, ALL of it, ALL of what helped me through life and helped me have six beautiful souls. Outside in the warm El Paso evening, our neighbors have their semi-annual pool party with live salsa, mariachi, cumbia and other Latin-inspired music. I wish I had been invited to this party so that I could say that the only reason I’m not dancing and singing my heart out is because of this recovery — but alas, this is El Paso, and only on rare occasions have I found that neighbors are invited if they do not really know the family.
Why would you invite neighbors who are not from here if they may not be able to relate to anyone in the family, especially if you have 30-40 family members?
So, I need to lay in bed while “Vivir Mi Vida” plays loudly and all the revelers sing…
Vivir mi vida, la la la la
(Voy a reír) voy a gozar
Vivir mi vida, la la la la
I'm gonna laugh, I'm gonna dance
To live my life, la-la-la-la I'm gonna laugh, I'm gonna enjoy
To live my life, la-la-la-la
If you don’t know me very well, then you don’t understand that dancing and singing has been my lifeblood since a child — I do not do enough of it in recent days. Not nearly enough. I love that Mexicans/El Pasoans enjoy dancing and singing, but due to our nature of being outsiders, we have not been invited. There’s a whole history behind this that does not involve me — but it’s tough for me on a day like today.
I did not think I would ever need or have a hysterectomy.
I “successfully” birthed six sons naturally/vaginally, even though all were very large with big ol’ heads. I have taken care of myself holistically with purpose, informed by research and practice. I maintained a diet of natural foods and daily, functionally-oriented movement, not too intense but also challenging. I worked over the last several years to develop more awareness about my emotional health and to support my own mental health challenges especially with PTSD. My husband and I have aimed to repair past relational injuries through daily walks, intentional connection, and understanding our personal and family histories. We have worked DAILY to better our friendship and support of each other.
I have aimed to understand how to be a supportive mother to my mostly adult children — apologizing for my past mistakes, seeking to understand my sons as they understand themselves, providing kind and empathetic care on their terms, and expressing my growing longing to be near them rather than a $1000 plane ride away.
I have tirelessly worked over the last five years to not only graduate with a 4.0 from my clinical mental health counseling graduate program but also secure internships and jobs in two different states to further my growth toward becoming a fully licensed professional counselor. Having finished over 2000 hours of supervised counseling hours toward the full 3000, I am nearly there.
I have sought to grow through the intense obstacles of moving 19 times in 30 years of marriage — planting friendships, cultivating them and leaving them. Trying to find support in over 12 different cities around the world while enduring pain, separation, depression, multiple stresses of bearing, birthing, and raising six sons while also burying and grieving one, has been monumental.
Honestly — I read all of this, and I don’t deserve to be sitting here on a bed in El Paso, TX at 53 yo having undergone the traumatic and painful loss of the central body part that has done so much work over the last 30 plus years. Of all people, I deserve to have a Mariachi band follow ME around all day long, celebrating how I have overcome overwhelming grief, pain and adversity and have come out smiling and dancing.
But, I dance in my room alone, as much as I can (I’m being good) and pretend the music is for my past, my pains and my parts that made up all of me.