Previous experience and a blog that I had to kill before its time have taught me that blogging late at night when I'm emotional and tired isn't a good idea.

But what the heck...I'm gonna be stupid for a bit.

Twenty-four days ago I posted on the goodness of God.  Yesterday I was yelling at Him about how I feel unloved and don't feel I can trust Him.  The change came because Monday I decided to get surgery.  Surgery has been my dying option - I will try every road, every method imaginable in order to avoid going under.  But 13 years of pain and it only worsens.  I have little glimpses of getting better, like Lewis talks about his wife having several "miraculous" remissions.  I've had those too.  In fact, my entire year in Kentucky when I was 22 was characterized by zero symptoms.  And last month was brilliant - half the pain of usual (which is saying a lot when your pain is at a 9 out of 10), making me think that maybe my dietary changes were making a difference after all.  But this month was unbearable; I almost asked Mom to take me to the E.R.  The only reason I didn't was that I finally stopped throwing up...and I believe the only reason I finally stopped throwing up was because I sent out a mass text to everyone I know who takes prayer seriously and asked them to pray for me.

Then I praised God for keeping me out of the E.R.
Then I yelled at Him the next day for not making me better.

Have I written this here before? My income has been consistently below the poverty line for the last 5 years because of missed days at work from the endometriosis.  Have I written this here before?  I don't have insurance because of the endometriosis.  I know I haven't written this here before: those two stated realities mean that I'll have to take out a personal loan to in order to get surgery.

And the surgery is only effective 40% of the time.  So I'll be taking out, say, a $20,000 personal loan so that I can stop missing days of work in order to get a surgery that might not work.  In essence, I may be screwing myself.

I've never wrestled with God's love for me before, and it seems childish that I should start now, over an illness.  But I'm worn down, my friends.  Endometriosis pain is more severe than the pain of a woman in labor.  And I have four days of it. Every.month. And I've had 13 years of it. And I've tried every non-surgical remedy in existence, and I've considered getting knocked up like that one doctor told me I should.  Yeah,

"Hey baby,
I brought you into this world just to make my body feel better,
but I didn't really want you
and I didn't like your daddy very much either."

Yeah.
No.

I know other people suffer worse than I do.  I know I have it pretty good, considering I have a dad who's self-employed and is letting me live in his house rent-free and work for him while I try to sort out my shit. I know I am blessed to live in the U.S. with running water and flushing toilets...imagine the women who live in the bush and have endo...poor things.  I have a soft bed and a heating pad and filtered water and a cell phone with which to text my mom downstairs when I run out of said water and need more but am in too much pain to walk.  Really...in the land of disease and suffering, I don't have it so very bad.

But I'm tired.  And I don't understand.  And I feel like I have no future. And I feel like even my present is being stolen away from me.  And I wonder why God hasn't healed me or allowed one of these other methods to work.  There's so much I want to do, so much life to live, and my dreams aren't selfish. I know other people who have been miraculously healed from the worst of diagnoses.  Yet here am I, constantly moving in the direction of worse.  And I question God about it. And I know the right answers.

But
to know
is not always
to feel.

So...surgery.