I Feel Like a Woman

I wrote in the past about my struggle with PCOS. I took that blog entry and cleaned it up to use it for an essay for an internship site. This site requires additional essays, one on a difficult experience and how your grew as a result.



When I was 18, my body went on strike. I became lethargic. Fatigue made attending classes seem impossible. Despite sleeping 10 to 12 hours, I woke exhausted. I was constantly hungry. The midsection of my normally athletic frame expanded in a way that I knew was irregular. Despite my intuition alerting me something was significantly amiss, doctors informed me that I was simply “stressed.” I was doing well in school and making meaningful friendships, but I was too tired to feel present. Finally, my mother saw a television special about PCOS, Polycystic Ovarian Syndrome, an imprecise but pervasive endocrine disorder unique to women that affects hormone levels, ovulation, and the production and processing of insulin. A new doctor and several medical tests later, and the diagnosis was confirmed.

Since my diagnosis with PCOS, it has been a struggle to release my ideas of femininity as defined by a Caucasian American culture. I have experienced grief at the loss of my physically feminine self. I am no hourglass; I am an apple. Extra pounds gravitate to my body. My lustrous curly hair is no longer thick. I do not get to appreciate the gentle curves of my body, or the soft ringlets of my once-thick hair wrapping around my face. Despite high quality treatment, I spend many anxious moments worrying that PCOS will result in fertility problems. My friends have lithe bodies that they can maintain with a small measure of effort, but my attempts to maintain a healthy weight must be deliberate and slow.

I must cultivate a strong sense of self in the face of a culture that tells me that, because my physical appearance does not meet an ideal, I am deficient and inadequate as a woman. Yet, amidst suffering, hope and a deeper faith have developed. I am grateful that medications manage my appetite and fatigue. I have learned to slow down and to breathe, attending to the rhythms of my body as a guide for life’s choices. There is meaning in a disease that can cause false hunger. Its metaphorical applications to my spiritual journey of discerning real spiritual hungers from my own yearnings has been an instrumental experience in learning to listen to the true call of God.

Most of all, I have been challenged to grow to place my identity in Christ. I have accepted that my worth, as a woman specifically, does not come from my curves, my body, or my physical appearance. Rather, I am God’s beloved, and He delights in me and in my being fully alive. My vanity has been wrenched from my hands unwillingly. Yet, I have begun to define my womanhood in having a voice and speaking my mind. Womanhood is now tied to my gifts of feeling deeply, living passionately, and being courageous. I am a strong woman because of the ways in which I can love and nurture that are distinctly powerful and different from a man. I am thankful for this gift of learning about myself, but with it has come deep pain and much loss.

I must admit that I do not always think of my newfound strength, courage, and love. I ask God to take away this strange “syndrome” that makes me question my knowledge of my self and to feel shameful for being too much or not enough in certain regards. I shed tears, I yell, I curse, and I get angry about it all. This, too, has been part of my spiritual growth. I have come to know God in a more intimate way and have learned that God wants to know all of me. This has led to better connection with others, where I am more comfortable sharing all of my experience and can invite others to do the same.

I held a baby tonight..

And my ovaries exploded. I don't know which I wanted more, the small child that I was holding or the cute little schnauzer prancing around the house. Of course, I then realized that no babies and no dogs equal a lot less poop in my life than in some others' lives. For that I was thankful.

Anyone out there ever gone through this whole graduate school/internship thing and have children? When's a good time? There is no perfect time, I know! But, I wonder how having a baby fits into the life schedule. You'd think I might consult God on these things, but that guy has a habit of giving me answers that I don't like, and I"m feeling selfish today. I promise I'll talk to him about that after internship applications are done. Oh, and maybe to my husband. It's not like a can bare his child without at least a little bit of his involvement.

If you're reading this blog and I've sent you an application, don't worry. I'm not having a baby during internship. But you may have to make way for my bloated belly at some point during the process, and put my office near the bathroom.

Raise Your Hand If You're Sure...

In graduate school, there are many people, processes, and paperwork that are irritating and annoying. But few things raise my ire as much as the grad school hand raiser. The hand raiser is ALWAYS a woman. While everyone else seems to have learned that we're all adults, the hand raiser seems to need the validation of someone calling on her in order to deign to grace us with her thoughts. The hand raiser raises her hand as if she's holding her place in line to speak.

"What is so annoying?" you ask. "Is the hand raiser not simply being polite?"

No, the hand raiser is being a passive aggressive manipulator who wields power in the worst of ways. The hand raiser demands to be acknowledged by others, as if everyone else in the room isn't also holding in a thought that could be shared. The hand raiser is declaring to the whole class, "Instead of listening to whomever is speaking, I'm sitting here holding my thought and pondering it instead."

The hand raiser is waiting for everyone to pause and invite her to speak. Worse than the hand raiser, is the professor who calls on her. "Oh wait, Steve. Jenny has her hand raised." Nevermind that Steve is the introvert who speaks in class exactly twice a year, Jenny has her hand raised.

Being in psychology, I often wonder if the hand raiser raises her hand to speak at family functions. If in therapy sessions, she raises her hand while her clients pour out their pain, because she's waiting to be recognized. Hand raisers are at the same time arrogant and insecure. It's a passive power move hidden behind a demeanor of propriety that is actually an insidious form of obsequiousness. (Google it!)

I once was in an Advanced Psychodynamic Therapy class where we confronted the hand raiser. She didn't stop. When she raised her hand on the last day of class, during our termination session, I pointed it out. She didn't like that, and we all just talked over her until she gave in and said whatever the hell she had to say. I find that the greatest victory of my graduate career. Forget about the clients who have made great strides under my care, or my own personal journey of growth. An entire year later, I find so much more satisfaction in that moment where the hand raiser was conquered.

Well, except the hand raiser is in class with me once again, raising that damn hand. The hand raiser isn't so bad, but in class I just want to slowly break each of her fingers. But, if I did that people would probably feel more sorry for her deformed claw of a hand and professors would call on her more. Then it would be, "I'm sorry Steve, but Jenny has her misshapen handicapped claw raised." Grrr.

So, to the hand raisers of the world. Stop. It. We aren't five and neither are you. And if you start waving that thing in the air, I'm going to break it off.

Underachiever

Well, no one can accuse me of stellar writing around these parts. It's a crazy time in my life. I'm tired.

Evidently, I was disconnected to an extreme degree today. So much so that one of the scientific profs emailed me after class, afraid that he'd offended me during class due to my lack of engagement. I will write him back and let him know that wasn't the case. Wow, am I really that occupied right now? Yes.

Better late that never.

My today isn't over yet, so this still counts right?

Today was an interesting day, one where I took no prisoners and asserted myself in new and unique ways. I hope to write more about it tomorrow or later in the week. But, for now, I'll give you an internship application update.

7 are completed, mailed, and received by the sites.

3 are ready go waiting to be compiled and mailed.

3 are in progress of being written and will be completed this weekend b/c they are due on the 16th.

5 more are due after the 16th and aren't being worked on right now, but a couple of sites are really present in my mind and I think might be a really awesome match for me.


That's how it is, yo. Check it.