Figuring it all out

January 3, 2009
I've started writing today's blog a number of times and have just felt like I couldn't focus on one topic. Maybe I need to stop censoring myself. There's a lot going on in my mind that I want to sort through. So I'm just going to start writing . . .

The last couple of days I have felt so much peace. I have sought out the quiet. I'm not running from my thoughts anymore. I'm not afraid to sit in silence and let my mind wander. When did that change? And why did it happen?

I'm actually a little afraid to delve into why I think it happened for what it says about me. I know It's because I feel so much relief at no longer having an ostomy bag attached to me. I know that's why. I feel free. Those words, "I feel free," are so weak compared to what I'm really feeling. I carried so much shame around with that bag. I felt like a freak. Try as I might to present myself to the world in a "normal" state, I knew that underneath I was hiding something I thought of as grotesque. I had a part of my intestine sticking out of my stomach with a bag attached to that where my body deposited its feces. I believe I'm a pretty open and honest person and I think going through my life like I had to hide something from the world just went against the grain of who I was. Now that I no longer have that ostomy bag, I feel free.

But there is a part of me that feels guilty too. I feel guilty that I had so much shame about it. Crazy little cycle I've got going there, huh? I've been perusing different websites lately for people who have ostomies and I am absolutely amazed at these people who post pictures of their stomas (the part of the intestine that comes out of the abdomen wall). No shame. They talk about how happy they are to have their ostomy bags because it's given them a freedom they never had before, and I feel like I'm somehow lesser of a person because I carried so much shame about my bag. That's it. I feel like I was supposed to learn a lesson about not being ashamed, but that I didn't fully learn that lesson and I failed. I chose the shame, I didn't have to feel it. And I didn't get to work through that enough to live with the ostomy without shame. I hate feeling like I failed!

But where's the grace Abby? Haven't I also learned to be gracious with myself? I can forgive myself for that can't I? This has been an arduous journey to say the least. It's okay if I'm still figuring it all out.

Yesterday evening I was sitting in the bathtub looking at my body. I have so many scars now. Not just the scars from my surgeries, but stretch marks all over from the 100+ pounds of fluid I carried while I was on the steroids in the hospital. No more soft, beautiful skin. I laughed at how I used to feel like my body wasn't attractive. If I could go back in time and know how my body was going to change, I so would have enjoyed my body more. And then I thought, what's keeping me from enjoying my body now? If something else goes wrong in the future I could once again find myself sitting in a bathtub wondering why I didn't enjoy what I had when I had it thinking about my body's condition NOW! It's all a matter of perspective isn't it? So I looked down at my stretch marks and thought about how they symbolize my strength and my courage and I told myself they are beautiful. And I'm going to keep telling myself they are beautiful, because they are.