My Tummy Hurts (And Other Thoughts on My Hysterectomy)

 Last week, I had a complete hysterectomy. My uterus, ovaries, and fallopian tubes? Gone. It took two hours. Two nights in the hospital. Ten thousand dollars.

And now? My tummy hurts.

It’s a strange thing to sit with—a body that’s suddenly missing pieces it carried for decades. A system that ran its course (or in my case, raged its course) and was finally shut down for good.

The PMDD Rollercoaster
If you know, you know. My cycle was 21 days, and for a full seven of those, I was drowning in symptoms:

• Temperature regulation? Shot. Always too hot or too cold.
• Rage? Boiling under the surface at all times.
• Anxiety attacks? Yep. Fun times.
• Migraines, bloating, intrusive suicidal thoughts? Check, check, check.
• Cognitive function? LOL. Some days, sending a text felt like solving advanced calculus. Driving? Not always safe.

The hardest part? I knew how to manage it. I had the strategies. I had the skills. I teach people how to do this—how to ride the waves, let the thoughts pass, breathe through the storm. I was never a danger to myself, but the noise was constant. The screaming in my brain was exhausting. Every moment was a battle: CBT strategies, deep breathing, weighted blankets. I could manage it. I could tolerate it. But I didn’t want to anymore.

This Was an Easy Decision—Convincing My Doctors Wasn't
I knew a hysterectomy wasn’t a quick fix. But after years of fighting to regulate something that refused to be regulated, I decided I was done. And that decision? It was easy. What wasn’t easy was convincing my conservative medical team to take me seriously. It took me two years—TWO YEARS—to get my endocrinologist and OB-GYN to agree that this was the right move for me. And let’s not forget, the privilege of being able to do this came with a $10,000 price tag. (Because why wouldn’t life-changing healthcare cost as much as a small car?)

But here’s the thing—I wasn’t flailing. I wasn’t desperate. I had this handled. I was regulating my symptoms. I was coping. I just didn’t want to pour that much energy into surviving anymore. I wanted that energy back—for my boys, for my life, for me.

And now, here I am. A week post-op, stitched up and sore, moving slow, letting my body adjust. I don’t know yet how this will change things long-term. But I do know this:

I finally got off the ride. And that feels like a good place to start.

No One-Size-Fits-All Answer
Making this choice wasn’t easy. And it’s not the answer for everyone. But here’s what I know: I tried everything. Every tool, every treatment—until I found what worked for me. That’s what this is about. Finding what works for you. Whether it’s symptom management, lifestyle changes, or exploring all your options—including the hard ones.

Because this isn’t about doing what’s “right” or “wrong.” It’s about making life easier. To finally feel like yourself again. And whatever road you take, you’re not alone in it. We’re all just doing what we can, one choice at a time.

If you have any questions for me, please don't hesitate to comment below - DM me on instagram here.