I am currently sat outside in the sunshine, topping up the melanin and recharging before the daily grind.
I kid you not, the past 2 weeks have been different on so many levels. I’ve encountered Karens and Karenjits – yes, they’re a thing! Once again I’ve been frustrated, disheartened and disappointed, but not surprised by some. I’ve dealt with absent fathers with absent minds. I’ve had my firstborn return home, only to prepare for her to leave again, and I saw and felt the heavens open leading me to being crowned Ms Wet Maxi Dress 2023.
It’s been a trip y’all!😂
Each one of those tales will be broken down in time, but there is a common theme between all of them, and that’s women.
I’ve dealt with a varying array and unfortunately the majority of my negative experiences have a colour label attached, which is a damn shame.
No matter what shade you are, women have always held the rough end of the stick throughout time. You’d like to think that that would be enough to unify us, but despite there being many things we share in common with other females, a Black woman’s journey tends to be a little rockier; and that isn’t me talking chips on shoulders with extra salt for taste; it’s coming from the perspective of a real talking, grown ass woman with nearly half a century’s personal life experience.
I don’t think I’ll ever fully comprehend the minds of those who choose to hate over nothing more than what shade of skin you’re born with. Well, that’s to say that’s what it appears to be on the surface, but if you dig a little deeper I think it boils down to something a little more basic – good old fashioned jealousy.
We have things thrown at us from left, right, centre, back, sides, top and bottom, and yet we manage to hold on to our crowns, rising and shining through. We truly have endured the most and are phenomenal, and thankfully more of us are now recognising that despite having the strength to do it all, we deserve to have that soft life others have been afforded. To put it bluntly, we deserve a fucking break!
Our ancestors are too great to let that internal fire die so we need to allow ourselves some slack. They’ve got us! And in turn we need to have us – all of us!
I love seeing the bonds and unity the younger ones are displaying. The pride in being who they are, fully comfortable in their skin, hits my heart differently. I pray it continues to flourish, but they also need to be mindful that some of our crowns may have slipped, or were always positioned a lil’ wonky from the beginning, but that doesn’t make us any less of a Queen. There’s strength in numbers, even the small ones. A little gesture can go a long way to make someone’s day.
With that in mind I’m shouting out and sending love to the Queens who have seen me through this past fortnight;
Tashi Brown – for being my firstborns ‘Work Mum’ I will be forever grateful, Aunt Janet, Debbie Charles, Nasheta Daniel, Alvina Connor, Charlotte Weston, Natasha (Tashi) Williams, Monique Norris and last, but most definitely not least, Dolly Katherine Fernella Bridges – Mumsy and my ancestors, who gave me life and have seen me through and continue to guide me.🙏🏾
I’m fortunate to have some real gems who help see me through in many ways, and I’d like to think they know I’ve got them too. It’s not always easy, and it can take some sifting through, but there’s nothing like real ones.
R.I.P to all those who have lost their lives recently.
Mahoosive thankhs to all those who came out and braved the storm to bid Isis farewell! Safe travels for Saturday firstborn. Ancestors I’m trusting you to do the ting!
Good luck Josh Parker and the Antigua Football Team!🇦🇬
NuDawn Love Collective! ~ Crown Fixers, Stay Blessed & #CelebrateLife
I know for some this has been a short week, but for many of us we don’t get to laze on a bank holiday and remain committed to our jobs. I’m not complaining as it’s my choice and I love what I do, but I admit this week in particular has felt long and I’m utterly cream crackered.
On account of the encounters I’ve had I was initially going to call this blog ‘Don’t Be A Dick’ and leave it at that. No further words just the title, because people can be real dicks, and I really don’t have the energy. But I decided to explain a little and repost the blog below I wrote in 2019 as it explains what I mean, and as with most messages in my blogs the sentiments remain the same and will continue.
We all have off days, but if you’re in a job or environment where you have to deal with other people on those particular days you should fix your face, put on your professional hat and do the job you’re paid to do. If you can’t manage to maintain your composure take a break or furthermore, if you can afford to, take a sick day and sort your energy out before you try to transfer it.
If I’m paying for a service especially, I beg you please don’t come with attitude. If you hate your job change it. The menace-no-pause is still working her magic and on top of that sleep is sporadic, sweaty and shit. Yet despite this I manage not to take my irritability out on others – and I’m working with someone who has dementia which can be a rollercoaster ride on any given day!
I always attempt to be respectful and considerate of the fact that I don’t know what kind of a day they’re having, and that goes for everyone in general. More folk need to work on this!
Before I get into the nitty gritty of what has been happening in my life over the last few years, let me address something else.
I’ve touched upon humanity previously, and you’d have to be blind not to notice that there is something seriously lacking with a lot of people around the world – way too many. I could run down a whole list but I actually don’t have the energy for it, I’m sure you’ve come across enough yourself to get the gist.
One thing that goes hand in hand with humanity is care. We all need it or have needed it. At the very least someone got you from a dependent baby to fending for yourself, no matter what age the care stopped. Be it a parent, family member, foster carer or wolves (I’m beginning to think it’s a possibility), someone raised you.
I believe without doubt that both nature and nurture have an impact on the person you are, but as an adult there are some choices you have to make regardless of what you’ve gone through, like how do I pay my bills? How can I make my moolah?
If you’re lucky enough to have a job you love, way to go! Right now I’m in the process of trying to do so…kinda. To be honest I need a little breathing space first, but naturally I’m thinking about which way to go next.
I’m creating my NuDawn Bible and it has its dating system. BC – Before Cancer, and AD – After Damage.
The BC me was a full time working mum, fit and so I thought, relatively healthy. I loved to shake a leg and could be on my feet all night with hardly any griping. I loved MONDAY’S (Tanya Brooks-Carty’s workout regime), and I could wear heels and run around to my hearts content should I feel the need. My mum had had a heart attack some years before and since then I’d taken care of her and her needs too. Life could always be better, but overall I was good.
The AD me had to face the fact that times had changed. Naturally I’d prefer it if my feet didn’t hurt all the time and I didn’t need to use a stick to help me, but at least I still have the ability to walk. I’ll take that and own it! “I’m an African warrior, rolling with my stick in my hand!” The alternative would be me bussin’ my ass on the floor when I lose balance so I’d rather not if you please.
AD me means that the running and jumping around I used to do without thinking twice is no longer a joy and in fact a pain in the ass, but I’ve learnt and I’m still learning how to deal with it. I’ve said it before but you really don’t realise how often you’re on your feet until it’s sending you constant reminders with and without every step.
But I suck it up because it is what it is and where would bitching get me?, which in turn causes certain people to watch you with side eye and wonder if it’s really as bad as it seems. ‘People’ will always be questioning, but that’s not for me to worry about. I have jack shit to prove to anyone. #WhoFeelsItKnowsIt
So I now find myself wondering what sort of job the ‘nu’ me should do considering my limitations. I swore to myself when I went back to work it would be doing something I enjoyed, and to not dread waking each morning already counting the hours until I was back at home. Unfortunately that’s easier said than done, especially when bills have to be paid!
I know a few people, but not enough, who actually love their job. I can’t say the same for any job I’ve had to date, not wholeheartedly anyway, apart from my “job” as a mother and my last one – which I wouldn’t necessarily call a ‘job’ as such. That’s not to say it was an easy experience, as anyone who has worked as a carer can testify to, but the person in question was my mum, so it was undoubtedly a bit easier for me as there was that love and personal attachment.
I’ve been told by several people that I should consider becoming a carer as I am so good with taking care of my mum. I get where they’re coming from. I’ve made a few friends at the home my mum is now staying in. It wasn’t hard to be fair. I’m there near enough every day and I’m quite comfortable chatting to the Golden Oldies, which is all they want really. In turn I’ve met some right characters! I swear they give me the most jokes.
That’s the easy upside, but then you’ve got the other side too. Literally the shitty side. I don’t have an issue dealing with my mums personal care and toilet issues because she’s my mum, but I’m honest enough with myself to be unsure about if I’d be able to handle anybody else’s. I think it’s essential to give a job like that serious thought.
I’ll never forget my time spent in hospital when I was ill, but one (of many!) incident in particular really got to me and is a good example of what I mean. My haters and those of you who think a lot of shit comes out of my mouth will appreciate this!
Two days after my op I was still as rough as arseholes. I was attached to a monitor and drip whilst being weaned off of morphine. I was still nil by mouth and in pain after having a third of my bowel removed and my stomach held closed with staples. I recall feeling really nauseous, then before I knew it I was throwing up. It didn’t take long for me to notice there was something not right with this picture.
Due to the op, my waste product had only one way of vacating my body. I was literally throwing shit up. You can only imagine my distress! The situation and pain was already bad enough and this was the cherry on the cake…or so I thought then. With every heave my stomach was on fire and as it took me by surprise there was no vessel for me to throw up in. I couldn’t stop, and in no time at all I was covered in putrid puke. #TheStruggleWasReal
The curtain was around my bed so I couldn’t be seen by anyone and could not call out. I managed to grab the call button to try and get someone to help me. It seemed like an age had gone by but in reality I’m sure it was only a minute or so that had passed before Nurse Fucking Ratched pulled back the curtain. She stood there, exhaled deeply and rolled her eyes with a look of disgust and disdain that I’ll never forget.
By this point the heaving had receded and she came over and told me to take my gown off. Because of the way I had been hooked up to the machinery it was a task I couldn’t do by myself which I pointed out, so she huffed and donned on gloves to scornfully help me out of my filthy gown and bed and onto a chair. She then disappeared and returned with a bowl of water and fresh gown and told me to clean myself off whilst she stripped the bed.
She was the most stone cold, heartless bitch I’d ever come across. Not once did she give an ounce of sympathy and had zero fucks to give about how I felt. All she knew was that she had to deal with clearing shit up.
Now up until this point I was on full on Warrior Woman mode. I had fought to get to a point where I was taken seriously, and I knew I had some hard work ahead to do, but I was due the results of my biopsy that day and had already known it was more than likely cancer. I was just happy to know that at last I had some kind of answer after months of fuckery and pain.
Then along comes nursey with her own special kinda medicine – a truth serum of sorts, and throws my issues clean in my face, quietly but oh-so-loudly pointing out that I am, in fact, no warrior. I can’t even manage to take off my gown, I’m weak, pissing in a bag and throwing up shit.
I admit to feeling a tad sorry for myself. I had a huge lump in my throat and could feel the tears coming but still managed to hold it down.
I climbed back into bed and she hooked me back up and left. A couple of minutes later the surgeon, his companions and Nurse Ratched came over to discuss what was happening. Apparently it wasn’t an uncommon occurrence under these circumstances and they would be putting a tube in to help clear out my stomach as it was more than likely that I would start throwing up again soon. All I heard was tube and stomach!
I’m one of those people who have a bad gag reflex. I can do my thang, but I ain’t no Dawnie Deepthroat! (sorry to burst your bubble!). Seriously though, it’s on if the toothbrush goes too far back let alone owt else!, so hearing talk about them feeding a tube through my nostril down the back of my throat and into my stomach filled me with complete and utter dread – then I clocked Ratched and had a vision of her doing the job and the dam burst.
Thankfully she was called away but by this time I was a hot mess. They said they would give me some time to calm down but we’d have to get it done soon. A little while later another nurse came along for attempts one and two. It was horrendous. I’ll allow you the finer details but it involved a whole load of retching, snot and tears. Then along came my angel in disguise.
For the life of me I can’t remember his name, but he was from the Philippines and one of the most caring souls you could ever hope to meet. He was the one who was with me when the surgeons told me what they’d discovered when I came round from my op, and he was amazed at how well I had received the news. I think he now recognised a woman at breaking point!
He knew it would be a 2 man task and enlisted the help of his colleague, who he assured me was a pro at doing this procedure, and it would be over in no time if I listened to what they asked me to do. He said he’d be right next to me holding my hand and giving me sips of water to help with the job.
They worked as a double act, cracking jokes to calm me down and then talked and walked me through it; me swallowing the sips of water to help ease the tube down with each gulp once it had reached the back of my throat, and then it was over, with only one heave in between.
They praised me on a job well done, which sounds really stupid, but they realised what a scary time it was for me and did their utmost to make sure I was comfortable.
I only wish others would take the time out and consider if the job they are doing is the right one for them. Despite me not finding my dream job yet, I made sure that the jobs that I did do were done to the best of my ability.
When you decide to do a job that involves taking care of a person it usually means that they are vulnerable and not in a position to help themselves, so you should at the very least try to be empathetic to whatever their plight may be especially as it’s something you chose to do.
I’ve experienced the good and bad side of the caring coin. I know the job is hard and a mostly unrewarding one, but you should really have some level of compassion and caring when you’re dealing with people at their weakest or lowest in particular. I said in particular because really it’s something that we should all have a touch of regardless.
I know that since my trip around the Topics of Cancer I have a lot more empathy for others plights. I can relate on a level that I truly understand folk can go through shit you can’t even relate to, but we can all relate to being treated respectfully.
R.I.P Josie Heywood. Your family did you proud and my heart continues to go out to you all.
Happy 50th Earthday/Birthday Lydia Shekiluwa. Looking nowhere near that figure! I pray you had a blessed day and many more to come Queen!
Handle With Care, Stay Blessed & #CelebrateLife
“Sittin’ in your church on Sunday
Thinkin’ who you gonna screw Monday
Who you gonna teef? Who you gonna rob?
Tek it as me tell you say, you can’t fool God, No!”
By His Deeds ~ VC
On Tuesday I attended the funeral of a lovely friend who passed away suddenly. I’ve known her and her family for as long as I can remember as we grew up on the same road, and her celebration of life turned out to be a reunion of old faces and a refreshing of memories long forgotten.
Enquires were made on how my family were, with some unaware of mums passing and the family drama that had been before and after that time. I filled them in but didn’t delve too deep. A few I directed to my website so they could catch up in their own time. Some were surprised, some not so much! You can fool some of the people some of the time…
Which brings me to why I’m writing this blog today. In part 1, I told you I was still doing the work. Growth is an ongoing process and peace takes preservation. I’m happy to say that I’ve still managed to conserve my peace, but had no real test on my growth until recently.
There are 3 main perpetrators who caused me the most upset over the years. Two are my siblings, who I have spoken about in Tales Of The Dales, but the third is my brothers partner. You’ll find out more about her involvement in the wrap up blogs, but for now I’m going to focus on something that she’s said before and still continues to say.
I know she continues to say this because my first test since leaving the retreat was being in her company. I fully admit that on previous occasions I had declined invites from my nephew because I knew that she would be there. It wasn’t that I was scared of her, far FAR from it! Actually correction; I was scared, but it was along the lines of I was scared I may cause him embarrassment or cause us to fall out when I run my mouth or try to clap her in hers; hear me when I say the urge was strong! – so I thought it best I steer clear.
When my great nieces Earthday rolled around a few weeks ago I accepted the invite without the usual apprehension, and I can report back that all was good in the hood! I even managed to sit at the same table. Ok, there was no chit chat to be had but still, come – look at growth!✌🏾😂
My second test came at my friends funeral as I knew my brother would be in attendance. Not gonna lie, I did eye roll when I saw him and possibly muttered a lil’ somethin’ somethin’ (👀), BUT I was calm and unfazed throughout the whole day, and for the first time felt another genuine emotion relating to him – humour. I seriously had to laugh, unfortunately you’ll have to wait to hear the joke.
But please don’t get shit twisted. To me, that’s as far as breaking bread will get – which brings me to the phrase his partner likes to use. She’s a life’s too short and we should just “sweep it all under the carpet and move on” type of chick.
Maybe it’s just me or coincidence, but isn’t it funny how the main perpetrators and instigators of all the fuckery are usually the first to want to sweep sh(it) all under the carpet and move on when they believe the time is right.
The thing is when you sweep it all under the carpet it might be out of sight, but you leave obstacles for folk to trip and bus’ their ass on; and I’m unsteady enough on my feet at the best of times. I’d much prefer to rip that fucker up and put it on the pyre. Furthermore, let’s incinerate all bridges* whilst the fire’s blazing. #BunAndDun
Why would I cover it up and play the fool, like I wouldn’t be inviting them back to potentially do it all over again? In all of the years not once has there been any sign that they were sorry or felt remorse for their actions. I can’t and won’t pretend that it never happened and the years of heartache, pain, misery and lack of accountability mean nothing.
Nah, I’m good thankhs. And when I say it I mean it. I’ve learned the meaning of true forgiveness and it doesn’t involve me having to allow them one iota. It’s about forgiving myself for allowing them to get me to those dark stages and places. It’s been a slog and a half to get where I am now and I’m applauding myself for making it through in spite of them.
Their shit is theirs to own, no matter how big or small a part they played. By his deeds shall a man be known. I wrote a blog by the same title back in 2017 and invite you to have a refresh. Since then the venom has gone, and so has mum, but the memories are harder to shift – all of them.
I always knew what I was doing was right and can stand by every step made with my head held high, so there’s no need for me to cover anything up under carpets or grey clouds. NuDawn is rising and she’s shining bright. If it gets a little too hot for some or it exposes their dark spots, that’s honestly not my concern.
By His Deeds Shall A Man Be Known (Link)
Happy Heavenly Earthday/Birthday tomorrow Mumsy. Gone but most definitely not forgotten. Ever!
See you next lifetime Queen.🖤💚
R.I.P Tara Bailey. It was truly a beautiful send off. Your family did you proud. I’m pretty sure you were shining down with the sun and catching up on all of the gossip!😂
R.I.P Queen and legend Tina Turner and to all those who have lost their lives recently.
*To those who don’t know, Bridges was my maiden name, a name my brother carried until changing it by deed poll. Unfortunately for him it doesn’t matter what you call yourself or how you attempt to reinvent yourself if your centre’s still the same. #JustSayin
Dizzy Nu Heights, Blinded By The Lights💫, Stay Blessed & #CelebrateLife
And we’re back to go over the delights of ‘Wilting Wednesday’.
I thought Monday was bad enough.
I’d dared to wear an over the head hoodie. Rookie mistake! Take a tip from me – light, easily accessible layers!! In this bi polar weather it’s not easy I know, but it’s even harder when your body is on the same levels.
I forgot myself, which isn’t hard when you throw brain fog in the mix. I’d had a reprieve via some gummies and things were looking up, but that’s just a distant memory now…or is it?…one forgets…
Anyway back to the hoodie. It was all good until I felt heat rising up from my feet. I asked the question in my social media post of did you know that your shins sweat? Well, did you!? It came up in conversation with a friend and we were wondering if this is a common side effect? I know it’s skin and naturally has this ability, but honest to goodness I never noticed before…then again I’ve never flowed so much before so I’m guessing I broke through the dam.
I tried to will it away but could feel a subtle sheen appear on my face – the prequel. As the heat rose through my body and reached my neck I pulled the collar forward and a feeling resembling opening an oven hit my face – cue the main event. I could feel the beads of sweat form then roll down my face, and with that started furiously fanning the collar to and fro in an attempt to cool down, but that only resulted in fanning the flames.
I honestly felt like I was suffocating and drowning at the same time. I couldn’t even remember what I had on underneath but that shit was coming off no matter what delights it had been covering. I pulled it off and released the heat. I was braless but had a vest on. I’m not usually one to go braless as my nipples will grab any opportunity to say hi – not that there’s anything wrong in showing a nip or two, but I’ve personally seen how distracting they can be for some!🙄😂
At particular times of the month even a breeze is enough to have them throbbing let alone material rubbing on them, no matter how soft. Just another joy for us to behold, so I’d opted for semi-comfort that day. With lesson learned from that event, I layered up and had a relatively ok Tuesday, with only a few flushes during the day; but bring forth the night – bring forth the fuckery!
I like to sleep naked wherever possible. This has its ups and downs.👀😂
One is easy access! I’m thankful (and so is the Mr!) that my libido hasn’t waned throughout – if anything it’s improved, and much to the em-ba-razz-ment and discomfort of our daughters, we still enjoy a healthy (albeit not as loud as I would like it to be but soon to be rectified) sex life.
As much as you’d like to keep it down it can get a little noisy, and I appreciate they don’t want to hear it, but as I told them, no stork bought yo’ ass here! The time to be concerned is when it’s not your dad I’m fucking. Until that day, turn the music up and find your happy place – I know I’m about to, and long (and ebony strong!😏) may it continue!
But saying that…
I’m pretty certain he would love it if it was an everyday occurrence, and as much as that is a nice thought it can stay as such. I don’t mean that disrespectfully, but sometimes it’s not even about me not wanting it, it’s about me not wanting to combust. It’s about please don’t touch me because I’m radiating enough heat already and that hand you just placed on me feels like I’m being branded.😩
I can’t complain as he is mostly understanding. Like I said, he’s living the dream with me so has it all in living colour, and I can appreciate it must be frustrating for him at the same time. As much as I’m lying there naked I’m not sure how much of a turn on it is looking a hot, sweaty mess before any action has taken place, lying on a towel whilst mopping with another one and fanning with the other hand. I’m grateful to have a husband who will actually listen and not simply dismiss it as “women’s issues.”
To be fair, it’d be hard for him to dismiss, unless he was a complete ignoramus, which thankhfully he isn’t. It’s hard to deny when you wake up and you’re facing your wife’s feet instead of her face because she’s doing that manoeuvre similar to when you chase the sunshine in your garden, and you move position to make the most of the heat; I’m doing the same in reverse, seeking out the cool spots on the bed. It’s a super king size so doable, but then you get the downside, once you’ve cooled down you’re literally left freezing your ass off until the next flush.
Needless to say that it isn’t subject for sleep alone but throughout the day. Can folk please appreciate the effort it takes to go out-out too. The effort to look “hot” but not look hot and yet stay cool (as in temperature😂), is a real challenge. Most days I wish I could walk around naked with just a dressing gown and slippers so I can release the heat yet stay warm. Now I truly understand why women had fans and fainted so much back in the day.
I love heat. I’m a self confessed sun child and will grab any opportunity to catch some rays and top up my melanin, and if/when it gets too much I know there are ways and means to control the levels I get. When I say Wednesday hit different that’s an understatement! This heat is internal and there ain’t no thermostatic control. It was a continuous flow of flush after flush and sweating from my roots to my toenails. I swear at one point I questioned if I was being possessed!🥵
The comparison is often made between women throughout history, and it’s thought that we’re now somehow a weaker generation because we acknowledge and speak on women’s health. Could it be that the reason they were so quiet previously was because they literally weren’t allowed to speak up or were not comfortable with speaking on it for fear of it being used as a weapon to beat them round the head with, and further fuel for the masculine fire of them being weak and unworthy? They were just supposed to be subservient little women, who looked pretty, cooked, cleaned and bred.
The pathway has now been cleared for us to say yes, there are clear differences between the sexes, but we each have qualities to be celebrated and admired equally – it doesn’t have to be a battle. In general the majority of men have more physical strength, but for the majority of women we have an inbuilt strength that cannot be denied.
All of the men I have spoken to who have read part 1 have said the same thing, and that is they are glad they aren’t a woman. That’s all I need to hear, because it shows me that they know we have the most shit to handle and wouldn’t want it for themselves; yet the majority of us manage to handle it – sometimes barely! – but still we move, and that’s on top of all of the other labels attached to being a woman. What would be fantastic is if more males took the time out to acknowledge and appreciate it.
So to all of my Queens out there – big up ya hot, sweaty chests! We are fucking phenomenal! If every once in a while you have a meltdown whilst melting down, feel no way. Speaking for myself, if I were to have a negative reaction to all of the sheggery I go through I’d be a right miserable cow, so I always attempt to curb it somehow, but the reality is we all need to vent, and sometimes when you share the load it can be lightened.
Big love and huge thankhs to each and every Queen that supplied me with advice and tips!🙏🏾
I’m trying a few so will follow up in a few weeks and let you know how things go.
R.I.P to all those who have lost their lives this week.
Big Up Ya Chest!, Stay Blessed & #CelebrateLife
⚠️ Warning for all of the ‘delicate males’* out there.
This blog contains a lot of talk of punani but more than likely not quite how you’d like or possibly ever want to imagine it.
It gets pretty graphic.
You have been warned; although I’d urge you to read it if you have any females in your life, just to gather a little understanding to how our lives can be.⚠️
After my day on Wednesday I thought this would be the ideal time for a health update.
At the end of part 1 I told you that I was awaiting a scan. Well I had that a few weeks later and it didn’t show up anything more than a couple more fibroids, but they were relatively small and no issue, so they sent me on my merry way with a few pamphlets on contraception (😑) and said to get in touch if my symptoms worsen…
Hmmm…
On October 11th 2021 I came on my period, bringing with it all it usually does. On October 29th it decided to stop. Yes, please do the math! 18 long ass days of bloody misery! I breathed a sigh of relief that it had finally stopped and carried on living and shit (I say and shit because that’s what it was at the time), but wondering wtf that was all about. I didn’t realise that was the teaser.
On November 1st it returned with full force. I tried to call the doctors and make an appointment but could never get through so left it and just dealt with it; until the early hours a couple of mornings later. I’d already been up twice that night to change my pad as I’d leaked through and was changing them every hour. After a particularly bad cramp I decided to head downstairs to the loo once more.
If you’re a heavy bleeder you’ll know that there’s a manoeuvre you do when attempting to presume an upright position from lying down. There’s no hop, skip and jumping going on. More a slow pivot until your legs are off the bed, then you slowly raise your torso as you try to evaluate the level of gushing you’ll have to contend with.
Then you slowly rise and there she flows! Only this time for me it was with abundance. As I stood up it felt like I was having a wee but I knew I wasn’t. Thankfully I had some old tracksuit bottoms on, and as I put my feet in my slippers I felt the warm blood flowing down my legs to greet them.
Our bathroom is situated downstairs, so I grabbed a hand towel, shoved it in my tracky bottoms and made my way precariously down the stairs and to the bathroom. I sat on the loo and you could literally hear the blood and clots pouring out of me and hitting the bowl. I pulled the towel from my bottoms that I’d discarded on the floor and tried to stem the flow.
I remember sitting there observing the carnage. Quentin Tarantino would have been proud of the scene.
I knew I had to move and get myself sorted so I shuffled off the loo to the sink and grabbed my flannel and body wash and tried to clean myself up as best I could, then wrapped my bottom half in another towel and went back upstairs. I grabbed another towel as the one between my legs was saturated and found some other old bottoms to put on.
I called 111 and explained what was going on and they told me they’d book me into A&E and to get down there straight away. I’d usually get the Mr to take me, but he was laid up with covid, so I grabbed my bag and another towel and pair of bottoms and headed downstairs back to the crime scene and took photographic evidence before cleaning up and knocking on my firstborns door to get her to take me to Wexham.
Yes I took photos. I learnt the hard way that some of these professionals like to think they know it all, yet a lot of their knowledge is based on old findings. Incorporate that with the fact I’m a Black woman I’m making sure no one can doubt what I say. I remember having a debate with a teacher once when she told me you only lose around 2 tablespoons of blood when you have your period. I knew for a fact that was bullshit at my young age but she sat there trying to force this fact down my throat. That’s why I made sure to teach my girls different, and not just about that but many other things.
I’ve said it before and I’ll keep on saying it;
DON’T RELY ON THE SYSTEM TO EDUCATE YOUR KIDS ON EVERYTHING!!
That’s another topic we’ll be revisiting soon. It has its uses but too many are too eager to eat the lies we’re fed…but moving on!
Thankfully when I got to the hospital not only did I get taken through to triage relatively sharpish but a friend happened to be there and got me taken up to gynae quickly too. At this point I was changing pads every 20 minutes.😩
I had a few hours wait as the gynaecologist was in surgery, but was finally seen by some young man who I’m sure could possibly have been young enough to be my son. He asked me a few questions about my period history and what had happened that day then asked me to pop myself on the table so that he could have a look and possibly get a biopsy.
I sorted myself out behind the curtain and lay down on the table. A nurse came in when I said I was ready and put my legs in stirrups, and I sat there legs akimbo feeling blood pooling underneath me waiting for sonny boy to do the do!
A few minutes later he arrived and positioned himself between my legs, grabbed a handful of paper towels and cleared the way before diving in. I lay there watching and feeling him attempt to reach my cervix and get a biopsy, but all he could get was clot after clot. And then, at last, he made it through and whispered those magical words – “I think you’d be a good candidate for a hysterectomy, or at least something more permanent.”
Hallefuckinglujah!!
No more pamphlets on contraception! It only took nearly bleeding out but hey, we got there in the end! He gave me a prescription for something to ease the flow and explained my options, saying that he’d recommend an endometrial ablation first and if that didn’t work a hysterectomy. He gave me some booklets on them and said that he’d be arranging to get me seen as soon as possible.
An endometrial ablation is a procedure to remove the lining of your womb in the hope that it lightens or completely stops your periods. On March 4th 2022 I had mine done. It was quick and painless and I’ve been period free ever since! Happy days!!…ish
I can’t describe to you the joy and freedom of not bleeding. You can wear what you want and don’t have to have a bagful of products at hand just in case Aunt Flo decides to pay a surprise visit. I’m still a piece para though so walk with a couple pads. I’ve been here before feeling ‘noice’ and then my body has humbled my claart!😂
I still get emotional and hormonal too but it’s not as severe as it used to be. Overall it’s been fantastic, but I can’t help feeling like I’m still the butt of Mother Nature’s joke! She said ok Dawn, you wanted shit to dry up – tek dat!, and promptly stopped the flow and took all moisture in that region with her to boot! She didn’t stop there though! She replaced the blood for sweat, and I’ve got the tears to complete the set!😩😂
And that brings us to what I’ve now renamed ‘Wilting Wednesday’.
If you’ve seen my social media posts you would have bared witness to the effects of the joke that is the menopause, aka menace-no-pause.
For those of you who haven’t seen it I’m leaving the link for you to have a peek before continuing on in part 3!
https://www.instagram.com/p/CsE4uIDL4eA/?igsh=dXdtZ2s0ZGk0Y3E2
R.I.P to all those who have lost their lives this week.
This week has been an emotional rollercoaster like you wouldn’t believe, but peace is still working her magic.🙏🏾
*I’d love to say that my husband doesn’t fit into that category but he’s a work in progress, after all he has little choice – he’s living the dream with me!😂
Glow With The Flow! Stay Blessed & #CelebrateLife
“When you walk through a storm
Hold your head up high
And don’t be afraid of the dark…”
Gerry and The Pacemakers ~ You’ll Never Walk Alone
You’ll be pleased to know it’s no long ting today! I’ve still got writers cramp from last week!😅
I’ve been doing a lot of reflecting as those hits keep on coming, and I’m aware there’s a lot of people hurting in one way or another so I just wanted to show a little love and give a little advice.
Back in December 2019 I wrote a blog summing up what I then thought had been my ‘Detox Decade’.
I recalled all of BFD of the past and gave a sigh of relief that I’d made it through – a little battered and bruised but on the other side with 20/20 vision for 2020 and fresh hopes!
What I actually got was fresh hell!😩
I can only speak for myself and of my own experiences, but take it from someone who has been through many a trial and tribulation over many years as you will soon hear – there is light at the end of the tunnel! Granted some tunnels are longer and darker than we’d like or ever imagined, but you don’t have to walk them alone.
I thought I only started stepping through mine in 2014 when I was diagnosed. In truth the lights had been dimming for time before then, but my eyes had adjusted to it. Thanhkfully pure light and guidance can be found in many forms. You got options people! Don’t ever doubt that there’s a way out.
I’m going to a 50th celebration of life at the weekend. I know way too many who haven’t reached this milestone and way too many who have passed recently for me not to be there and celebrate it with them. Time spent on your own is essential, but it’s equally important to have good energy around you.
I’m happy to say that I have new additions to the NLC – NuDawn Love Collective – the Kings and Queens who have played a part in making sure this NuDawn rises and shines. It also means that, unfortunately, I can’t be with my Tribe on Saturday as they aid and assist the newbies on their journeys. Sending big love, light and positive vibes your way. I’ll be with you in spirit, but know that you’ve got this! And regardless of whether you do or don’t – we’ve got you.💚
R.I.P to all those who have lost their lives this week.
Detox Decade! (Link)
Yes, the podcasts are coming! It’d be easier if I could get the words out and handle listening to myself talk, but still we move…albeit slowly!😂
Congratulations Nadia Jae and team on your gold Aria award for your Breakfast Show. It’s well deserved and as a member of the BC, I salute you!🫡
Keep on glowing Queen!
There’s Always A Way Out Of The Dark, Stay Blessed & #CelebrateLife