Endometriosis Doesn’t Define Me

Update: This “tidbit” turned into a full-fledged article on Femestella.com! Read it here: “I Lost Two Jobs Because of Endometriosis.” 

In honor of Endometriosis Awareness Month and the #FacesOfEndo campaign, I decided to write a quick tidbit on how I feel about Endometriosis. 

In 2017, I was forced to quit not one, but two jobs because I was in so much pain caused by a neat little gift the #EndoMonster gave me: Interstitial Cystitis. I was still in grad school, in the midst of finding a new apartment and planning a wedding. The stress was overwhelming.

I quit the first job out of pure humiliation. Thanks to my Endo, it’s a memory I’ll never forget.

In the summer of 2017, I’d finally snagged an editing position with an online magazine for college women. I was ecstatic and filled with new ideas to take their content (and their social channels) to the next level.

Two mornings out of the few months I worked there, I showed up late. It was around 10 a.m. and I was terrified I’d lose my job. I rushed to the subway and made it in, only to be shocked by my oh-so-unprofessional boss. I expected a talk about my tardiness, but I definitely wasn’t prepared to hear what he said next (in a room full of co-workers).

“Do you have a drug or drinking problem? Who else sleeps until 10 a.m.?”

I was mortified.

Not only did he single me out in front of the entire team, but he accused me of being a drug abuser/alcoholic.

Unbeknownst to him, I had spent the weekend in the hospital trying to figure out what was wrong with me. It was the first time I had a catheter put in, unfortunately, it wasn’t my last.

Instead of standing my ground and telling the room full of men (not one woman worked there, how fucking ironic is that?) that I was having bladder/period issues, I ran with my tail between my legs. I apologized to everyone several times and promised that it would never happen again. I told them I was stressed with homework and classes. I told them I was under a lot of pressure because of my upcoming wedding.

I told them I was sorry. . .

I went back to my desk mortified, humiliated, dumbfounded… And then I snapped. I stood up and said, “I quit.” I left the room and haven’t looked back since.

This story is just one very small sliver of what Endo has given me, but the point is, is that I don’t let it define me. Sure, I lost that job because of the pain I was in, but at least I was strong enough to get out of a fucked up situation. I didn’t feel guilty. I still don’t.

I had no idea that my Endo gave me Interstitial Cystitis. Hell, I still wasn’t even really sure I had Endo. After seeing several doctors, receiving misdiagnosis after misdiagnosis, I was fed up. Fed up with the meds, fed up with the non-stop appointments, and fed up with life.

But instead of laying down and giving up, I let my anger fuel me and that’s how DO YOU ENDO was born.

I want to give others a safe place to vent and communicate with other #EndoBabes who are struggling. I want to prevent what happened to me from happening to someone else. More importantly, I want others to know they’re not alone.

I’m here. We’re here. And we hear you.