What 2021 has taught me

By the look of my scant Instagram profile and my dilapidated website, it’s obvious that work has taken a back seat for me for the last year.  I thought I’d better explain myself.   I want to share some of what’s been happening for the last year, but also, and more importantly, to open up the discussion around some issues that many women go through but that most of us keep quiet about.  

Let’s go back to the start of 2021.  I was ill.  I had no idea what was wrong with me.  I was tired all the time.  I couldn’t get through a day without a nap and for at least a week out of every month, I was in so much pain that I couldn’t walk.  Most of the time I felt like my body was filled with concrete.  I had blinding migraines that lasted for days, my hair was falling out in clumps, and there was a pain in my side that felt like a tennis ball wedged into my pelvis. 

I called my doctor and asked for some tests.  I told myself that I was just being lazy, and that a normal person would just push on through it, and that the tests would all come back normal and that I’d have to admit that I was simply slacking.   I felt like I was making a fuss and that the doctor would think I was being dramatic. 

The results of the blood tests indicated a simple iron deficiency, easily remedied, but my doctor decided to send me for some further checks just to be on the safe side.  Because of COVID restrictions I was sent to a clinic in Glasgow rather than my regular GP.  I arrived ten minutes early for my appointment, and took my seat in the socially distanced waiting room, thinking this was all routine and it would be over and done with in half an hour or so, and I’d be able to get back to the studio and get to work.  I watched the hands of the clock edge further towards the time of my appointment and felt a creeping sense of panic.  Dread spread across my chest and arms and legs and the voice in my head said, “RUN!  Get the hell out of here now, just run out the door and don’t look back.”  

The nurse popped into the waiting room with a smile, introduced herself and led me through to the consulting room.   

A very lovely Gynaecologist introduced herself then freaked me out by telling me she had seen my work.  I said “well you’re about to get to know me a whole lot more”. I got the full, stripped from the waist down, feet in stirrups check up. Then a biopsy.  Then an ultrasound.  

The Gynaecologist told me I had a “mass” that was “concerning”, and that she would need to take a blood sample to give her some more information.  She talked about surgery and referrals, and to be honest, I kind of drifted.  My head was becoming overloaded and all I wanted was to get out of that room after the two hours of examinations and tests.  

I went home with stitches, and no words.  

Three days later, on a Saturday afternoon, the Gynaecologist called me.  It was bad news.  The blood test indicated that the “mass” was most likely malignant.  I’d be referred to an Oncologist as a matter of urgency.  

My knees crumpled and I slid on to the floor as she talked about urgent surgery, chemo therapy, radio therapy.  A plan going forward. 

I asked if there was anything, ANYTHING other than cancer could have caused the test result.  She paused and said “No, I’m sorry”.   She said she was emailing the Oncologist at that very moment and she’d call me back in half an hour. 

I don’t remember the second call.

In between calls or maybe after both, I found myself on the floor.  I could see myself in the bedroom mirror and I heard this awful guttural wailing sound, then realised it was coming from me.  I stuffed a pillow in my mouth and screamed.  Then I decided that it wasn’t happening and if it was happening I didn’t want it, so it wasn’t going to be acknowledged and that was it.  It could fuck off. 

That was the Saturday.  On following the Wednesday the Oncologist called me, and scheduled a CT scan.   The following Monday the scan took place.  In the days before  the scan I cleaned the house and arranged emergency dog walkers in case it was all about to become real.  

A few days after the scan,  I had a video consultation with the Oncologist.  He told me the scan showed nothing “overly concerning”, except the mass, which would still need to be removed, but that the problem was most likely Endometriosis.  A follow up blood test confirmed that he was right.  

I’m not a doctor, so if you don’t know what Endometriosis is, I suggest checking it out here.  

So massive relief, it’s not cancer, but here’s the thing;  I’ve had symptoms of Endometriosis for at least fifteen years.  Endometriosis is a serious condition. I’ve repeatedly brought it up with various doctors.  I was never taken seriously.  I’ve had most of them explain to me how menstruation works and how “cramping” happens, as if I was a fucking pre-pubescent girl sitting at a “how your body works” talk in primary school.  I remember telling a doctor that for at least three days of the month I was in so much pain that I couldn’t walk and she told me “well just don’t walk on those days”. In all that time of not being taken seriously,  more and more damage has been caused to my body to the point where the condition is now “invasive” and I have a cyst the size of a duck egg in my side that causes a lump I can actually see when I shower.  

And I am infertile.  

I’ll never have children.  

Ever.  

After finally being referred to an Endometriosis specialist, I was offered another series of tests to find out how fertile I am.  This is to determine whether or not to prioritise keeping my uterus when they operate to remove the “mass” and the Endometriosis.  The treatment for many women who have either had children or don’t want children, or who are no longer fertile is a hysterectomy, as if your womb is expendable if it’s already been put to good use or no longer in fertile working order.  I don’t want a hysterectomy. 

I have always wanted to be a mother.  

The tests showed that even the possibility of IVF is off the table.  

There’s a particular type of grief that comes with knowing you’ll never be a mother when you’ve always wanted to be one.  It’s lonely.  And silent.  You’ve lost someone that only you have ever known, and no one gets it.  I know women who’ve dealt with infertility and then finally, at the eleventh hour, have become pregnant and had their babies.  I know many women who have never wanted children and are perfectly happy with their choice despite pressure to feel and do otherwise.  

I don’t know anyone like me.  

People think that if you’ve never had children you can’t know that sort of deep, primal mothers’ love.  We do.  Trust me, we do.  We feel it, we just don’t have anywhere to put it.  We have all the same maternal instincts and love and nurturing in us, but we have a huge empty space instead of a child.  We know our children, but we’ve never held them.  We don’t get to care for them, or see them grow up, or hear their voices.  I say we, I mean me.  Saying “we” makes me feel less alone in this.  

I’ve lost three pregnancies.  I know what age all of them would have been by now.  They have names.  They live along side me in a sort of parallel life that’s always just out of reach.  I’ve tried to let them go, but they are still there.  

And it’s not only the pregnancies I’ve lost, it’s the ones I always expected to happen “one day”.  I always thought I’d be a mother at some point.  At some point it would happen, when I least expected it, like some fertility miracle you see on a daytime TV talk show. 

It’s not going to happen.  

I don’t know how to come to terms with that.

I remember one doctor about ten years ago telling me that the reason I wasn’t getting pregnant was that I wasn’t “trying hard enough”, and that I needed to just “get on with it”.  I’ve been told that it was my “negative attitude” that was impacting my fertility.  I was told that I was trying “too hard”, putting too much stress on myself,  “over thinking it”, and a whole other load of women-shaming bullshit.  Not conceiving was down to my “attitude”, while the symptoms of Endometriosis I reported were written off as “anxiety”.  I felt ashamed of what was happening and not happening to my body.  Ashamed of complaining.   Ashamed of asking for help.  Ashamed of repeating myself.  Ashamed that other people had it so much worse and here was I asking for support.  

And you know what? 

I’m fucking furious.  

I’m fucking enraged that for fifteen years I’ve had a health condition that was clearly showing itself and instead of being taken seriously, my symptoms, my concerns, my instincts and my intelligence were minimised and ignored and even ridiculed to the point where so much damage has happened to my body that I’m too late to be a mother and my health has deteriorated. 

I asked for help.  It took a false cancer alarm to be taken seriously.  

I know, I KNOW that I am not alone in this.  I want to hit rewind, and go back to the times when I should have made different choices but didn’t know any better.  I want to go back and fight to be taken seriously.  I know better now, I want to go back and fix it and change it, but I can’t.

After the Endometriosis diagnosis, I hurled myself into doing everything I could to make it better, even just a little bit better.  I had to feel like I had some sort of agency over what was happening.  I made huge changes to my diet and lifestyle, cutting out certain foods and caffeine one at a time.  I wasn’t expecting much change but gradually things started shifting.  I was able to start working again, slowly but it was a start.  I started teaching again which felt like the sun being switched back on.   My health has continued to be a concern though.  I was added to a waiting list for surgery, which I’m still on.  I was referred to different specialists and every couple of months and new issue would raise its head and need to be acknowledged.  At one point I was averaging two hospital appointments a week.  This has meant a whole lot of anxiety which has eroded so much of my confidence and sense of who I thought I was.  I used to believe I was a healthy person.  At times I’ve felt like I was losing myself. 

One of the things that has astounded me though is that my friends, clients, collaborators and students are still here.  There have been times when I’ve been so low I couldn’t see anyone, and still my incredible friends reach out to tell me they’re thinking about me, or to ask if they can meet for a coffee (decaffeinated for me now!).  I’ve had to cancel and postpone most of this year’s work, and still the wonderful collaborators and events organisers I work with are patient and understanding and supportive.  When I have been well enough to teach or make work, you guys are still interested!  The students who sign up for my courses are still showing up full of creativity and curiosity and honesty and it floors me.  I have no words for my gratitude for this.   

Galvanised by so much support, in the Autumn, I tried to pull myself out of the hole was in, decided to start making big plans for the next year, write new courses, make and finish new work, create larger work, be more ambitious. 

Then last month, my hero, one of the closest, most precious people in my world passed away.  That’s a sorrow that I can’t write about. I decided to throw in the towel and cancel all work until the new year.  I need to rest.  I need to grieve.  

So it’s the end of 2021.  I’ve made little work and now you know why.  So to put something out there, here are some of the things have become glaringly obvious to me, some things I’ve picked up through experiencing situations I’d never known before, and some things that are keeping me going and that are maybe, perhaps useful to others. 

In no particular order;

Nothing, I repeat nothing, is more important than health and friendship.  If you’re lucky enough to have either, then take care of them.  Nurture them, listen to them, prioritise them.  When everything else falls apart these are the things you need to keep going.  Health is not guaranteed.  Neither is friendship.  Don’t take either for granted.

Doctors like it when people are slim.  I am slim.  Due to the stress and ill health of this year, at some points I’ve tipped from slim to thin.  I’ve lost almost a stone in weight over this year (that’s 6.5 kilos, or 14 pounds). Almost every single health professional I’ve spoken to this year has commented and commended me on my size. One particular doctor assumed that being slim, I’d be happy to listen to him joke about all the bad things that could have befallen me if I’d been fat.  So first of all, what sort of prejudices are larger people facing? How much shit do people who aren’t slim have to deal with when seeking medical help? And second, as someone who experienced a hell of a lot of health anxiety this year, how appropriate is it to encourage someone to be thin and tell them their health would be more at risk if they got bigger?  No answers here, just angry questions. 

Embrace beauty, warmth, love and joy wherever and whenever you find it, even if it’s only for a moment.  No matter what is happening, find something, anything beautiful to immerse yourself in, even for a few seconds.  It could be the way the light hits a dew drop, or the colour of a rusted lamppost, or the sound of the wind, but find them. These moments of relief are about your mind and soul’s survival.  Thread one to the next. 

Fight for your health.  Trust your body and mind.  You are not lazy or whining or attention seeking or playing the victim.  Pain is not normal, and don’t let anyone tell you that what you feel as pain is really nothing more than an inconvenience. Fight for your health.  Being ill and asking for help doesn’t mean you’re crying “Poor me!”.  Shame is not useful.  Yes, there are people suffering far worse in this world, and it’s awful and unjust and wrong, but do not allow their pain to be used to keep you too ashamed to speak up when you need help.   Gratitude for your blessings, does not mean being silent about your struggles. 

Notice who stands by your side when shit hits.  Not everyone can or will or should. It doesn’t necessarily mean they’re a bad or shallow person; everyone has limits and needs boundaries, but pay attention to how people respond.  When you are on your knees, notice who sits down next to you, waiting to help you get up when you’re ready.  This goes for professional connections as well as personal ones.  

Know what you want and fight for it now.  I wish I’d stood up for myself.  I wish I’d believed myself when I knew what was wrong, and what was right.   

Build your work reputation on authenticity.  Reputation is everything when it comes to work.  Create the best work you can do and put it where people can see it.  Work and communicate from the heart and you will attract genuine connection and resonance from your audience and collaborators.  Resonance lasts through shit.

No matter what 2021 has brought, I wish all of you a better 2022.  Thank you for being here.  

35 thoughts on “What 2021 has taught me

  1. Bless you, you have been through so much. I was told by doctors, the same as you, that following an infection I would not be able to have children. I grieved this news for decades. Then at 41 I became pregnant. I am so sorry for your struggle – please take care❤️

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  2. I am so sorry for your losses and pain this year….thank you for sharing how you managed to survive – it helps us all. I hope you can keep going, step by step, moment by moment…As you say, you are not alone in being ignored by doctors for years …check out the writer Hilary Mantel, for example, who sadly has had similar experiences, among countless other women. Wishing you more love, joy and creativity in 2022,
    Kathy, a reader of your blogs.

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  3. I’ve missed you. I’m so sorry for the mental and physical pain. I had a medical issue that wasn’t properly diagnosed for more than 10 years when an ovarian cyst ruptured. I haven’t had much faith in doctors since but I try to go when my body says and try to find out what the problem is. You are not alone. WE are not alone. I’ve met so many other women who have gone through the same thing. Even though we’ve never met and live on opposite sides of the ocean I’ve considered you a kindred spirit since I first saw your work. Your art has always spoke to me. Take care, stay well, thank you for being you.

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  4. You are loved beyond measure by those you know and those of us you don’t.
    And you are brave beyond measure for speaking your truth, may you find some peace through the naming of it.
    Jane

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  5. I have always adored your work, after discovering you on Etsy a few years ago. I am so terribly sorry to hear what you have experienced in the past year. It is so unfair. And I agree wholeheartedly with what you say about fighting for your health – no-one else will. I had breast cancer in 2019 and thankfully I am currently ok, but since then I take nothing for granted, I treasure my current good health and take nothing for granted, including my friends who have supported me throughout. I hope 2022 is better for us all. Thank you for sharing your experience – it resonates strongly with me, and surely will with many. Much love to you. xx

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  6. I am deeply touched by your post and feel the depths of your grief, sorrow and anger. All justified. My mother lost her life because of doctors not taking her seriously. She would relate. I relate though it has not happened to me. Thank you for sharing your powerful and important story. I pray for healing, health and the creation of new and unexpected joy for you

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  7. I am a former pupil and thrilled with being so. I have thought about you this year and check up on your dolls which is how I found you initially.

    But now be angry, be absolutely furious – and give yourself time and space for your foul and wicked experiences during 2021 to be absorbed and turned into positive and valued judgements. And use all that trapped energy to emerge into more amazing work.

    You have sparked off many points that I personally can empathise with and as usual your passionate word craft has illuminated them clearly and truthfully. My heart is full of you at this moment – be brave, be strong and believe in yourself. Thank you for posting – it must have been very hard.

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  8. There are really no words that are adequate as a comment. Your words moved me deeply. Wishing you strength and deep joy in the new year.

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  9. Thank you. For your honesty and vulnerability, for trusting us to share this with, for your anger. And thank you for seeing the full figured girls too. May the new year bring you healing and rest, and rejuvenation.

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  10. Thank you for sharing your grief and pain with us. It brings tears to my eyes just thinking about it… you need to spend time focusing on healing yourself. My heart and prayers go out to you…

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  11. I hear the grief in your voice for the ones who will not be walking hand in hand by your side.I feel that loss tearing at your heart like lightening shreds a tree when it hits. Your pain is palpable & I’m so sorry that you have been so abused by the medical establishment. You went unheard & you were dismissed – absolutely abhorrent – but know that you are stronger than all of them put together. You have already survived & now, with your acknowledgement of all your pain, your journey to thrive has already begun. Little by little…gently renewing & re-spiriting your Life Force. This may not be the time to say it, but I feel that it’s important to share with you what I’m being shown. “Someone is waiting for you. Someone wants & needs to be in your life. Some small person is crying out for you to invite them in to share your love & life with them. They will whisper to your Soul & you will hear them & know what to do. This little person will touch your Soul just as the figures that you make have touched our hearts & called out to us to adopt them to bring them into our lives. And there they are loved & cherished.” Blessings of Love & Light to you on your healing journey. Know that you are loved.

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  12. Happy New Year Beautiful soul.

    Your writing spoke directly to me and I wish to thank you. I too am an artist of sorts and have a large need to create, but it gets lost during times of unwellness. Sick physically/mentally/spiritually for the past 6 years after a major emotional trauma which was the straw that cracked it all. Now on the mend thanks to micro-dosing with psilocybin. It came to me recently now that I am feeling well again, that I had experienced an absent (or at least sleeping) soul during the time of illness. It really resonated to me when you talked about being thin. I too am extremely and people just do not get that it is not by choice. And so, friend, welcome back to a new way of being, new appreciation, and a new year. Best to you, Elaine

    Sent from my iPad

    >

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  13. Dear Johanna…I am sorry you have been going through this all. Having connected with your grace and beauty through one of your classes, I feel a family closeness to you and it grieves me you are unhappy or unwell. Please know that even though we are mostly strangers I am thinking of you and love you. You will overcome this, you will!

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  14. This is so incredibly heartbreaking Johanna. Devastation beyond words. I truly believe that your sharing will help others. I’m so very sorry that this happened and that you had to experience it. I’m so glad that you are doing better. You are an amazingly talented artist, writer and teacher. Thank you for inspiring so many people across the world, by sharing your experiences and your gifts.

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  15. Oh, Johanna, what a truly dreadful year you’ve had.
    I’m so so sorry for your pain and loss.
    It’s really courageous of you to share the experience you’ve had with your health, it can’t have been an easy thing to do! It might be the very thing though, that urges another to go and get some nagging concern checked out.
    I’m so sorry that your worries were ignored or down played and that you’ve suffered for so long. I can’t imagine how much stress you’ve been through.
    You’ve really been through the ringer but you still fought on and held workshops where you gave of yourself so freely and generously. You still pushed through and created beautiful dolls.

    You’re a remarkable woman.

    I wish 2022 to be so much better for you, I wish you love and health, and healing,
    Louise xxx

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    1. I read your story and I am so sad for you and all that you tried to do to be heard. I am thankful it is not cancer. I am thankful that you are angry but in control. I am thankful that you have your art, which is amazing , and that you have dear friends. We don’t know each other but I have admired your work for years. Your pieces have a haunting beauty and now I see that they reflect your heart and the losses you’ve had. Keep creating and sharing the beauty within you. Much love, Cindee

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  16. Thank you for sharing your story. Although I live on the west coast of the U.S. – a very long way away from you. I can so empathize with you. I too have dealt with various sorts of cancer and autoimmune problems for many many years. I understand, now, finally, the difference between healing and curing. Ever since I first came across your work, I have been very deeply touched by it. Now I feel I can understand it even better. I am so glad you are healing now. I know this may be a long process, and that you will become even more “you” as you go through it. Your work will be touched by it in ways you can’t yet know. How I wish I could take a class from you. Sending you many blessings. – Carol

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  17. Dear Johanna Once again, your words came to me at a difficult, probably a turning point in the last few days. Disappointments, betrayals. I don’t know what will happen, I have the feeling that I am standing in quicksand and not understanding anything, I lose everything piece by piece.

    But that’s not what I want to write about.

    Thank you so much for sharing your pain, loneliness and anger. And for great, as always, thoughts and advice. My English is too weak to tell you what I experienced by reading your words. I can only write this in the simplest terms: I deeply sympathize with your terrible experiences. I feel angry at my thoughtlessness. I support every good thought around you with all my heart. And thank you for being there

    Yours Agnieszka

    > Wiadomość napisana przez The Pale Rook w dniu 31.12.2021, o godz. 12:25: > >

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  18. This is so disgraceful … So sorry that you’ve had to endure such agony and dispair … I’ve been through a similar scenario and IF I hadn’t been switched to a Female Doctor on duty that particular night …I probably wouldn’t be here commenting. Sometimes the medical profession is so unfeeling and disrespectful of our health … I mean “WE KNOW OUR BODIES” and when there is something wrong. … You are absolutely right about being heard and presence …OWNING IT, is the only way . I’m know that you will get through this ordeal and come back fighting, my friend. … Sending Positive Prayers and much Love your way. xoxoxox Roslind

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  19. Dear Johanna , I am overwhelmed and mere words cannot express my sadness in hearing your story and loss, my outrage that you have had to live with this experience, and my admiration for your courage in sharing, in finding joy in your beautiful creative work and I value your wisdom, resilience and humanity . May 2022 be a year where you will make new memories that will bring inner peace and happiness. Thank you for making this world a better place. Taking one of your online classes in 2020 moved me emotionally and spiritually and made a difference not only to the way I make, it changed my thought processes and I will always be grateful. Best wishes , Wilma ( Newcastle, NSW, Australia)

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  20. I am so very so for this medical travesty you’ve been forced to endure for so many years. It’s wrong, it’s shameful, and it’s disgusting what god-complexed individuals have done to you.
    I am thankful that there is no cancer. My heart sighs with relief. It’s the loss of choice and possibilities that are soul felt. For that, I am profoundly sorry.
    I understand the angst of wanting a child. It took nearly 10 years but it did happen. Before that, each new monthly cycle was a lost possibility.
    I don’t understand why things happen the way they do. I can tell, though, that you are not down for the count. Your art has embraced such beauty, I believe we will now see strength, courage, pain, and healing as well.
    Bless your heart,
    Alandria

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  21. I feel your pain, frustration and sheer anger at a profession that after all these decades of so-called awareness women are still ignored, gaslighted by the medical profession (no matter your country) and certainly challenged if you start demanding answers that require they actually do their job. As an older woman I am experiencing more and more the overall neglect of the medical professions toward me as they don’t even bother to follow up with me on anything.

    I had endometriosis, and fibroid tumors and my OBGYN said since I already had my children there was no question that a hysterectomy was the “best” solution. As a way of comforting me he said it would be like going through menopause early and wouldn’t that be a relief. I have had so many health issues as a result that when I bring up the possibility of talking with an endocrinologist to see if some of these health issues can be corrected, I am again challenged. Doctors treat the uterus as if it was as useless as an appendix unless used for procreation with no consequences if removed. My last encounter with my doctor was so inconsequential for him that nothing I’d discussed with him was documented in my medical records. I know I should change providers, but I’m not encouraged that there might be a more engaged professional available. I’ve also found that many female physicians are no more likely than their male counters to care about your health.

    In your situation, to not even be offered grief counselling for your many losses and future loss is so unconscionable. I am so very very sorry for what you’ve experienced at the hands of the “healing profession”.

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  22. I can only echo what others have said. I wish you the best, I wish you grace and healing, and I wish you strength for your body and mind. Hugs!

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  23. Thank you Johanna for shining a light on this and as always for your honesty. As a big girl you are absolute right in imagining what happens there, at 44 the doctor I have now is the ONLY one in my entire life who has never asked me to get on the scales. Every doctor before him, without fail, male or female, including as a teenager, first reaction to ANYTHING I go in for (so you just stop going) was to tell me to get on the scales and then that is the answer to anything that is wrong. I’ve been undergoing similar tests this year although not to the extent of yours and am so sorry that you have had to deal with this. So sorry for the outcome and so angry that as women in general we are not listened to.

    We will always be here for you no matter how long you need. I hope you feel the support and know you are seen, I hope it gives you a little strength and comfort.

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  24. I’m so sorry. I know there are no words. I had breast cancer this year, so I can empathize with some of what you’re saying. I don’t know if you know of Mab Graves the artist. She has endometriosis and talks about the struggles on her IG account. Sending you love ❤️

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  25. Dear Jo, I read your lines with deep sympathy. I have suffered from a form of endometriosis since I was 12 years old, which was not immediately recognised as such. It was only a few years ago that I read about it – and a TCM doctor was at least able to help me stop the heavy bleeding on the third day. And overall to make sure that the abortion bleeding became shorter. I gave birth to three children and lost a fourth – my window of opportunity was limited, I guess I was lucky.

    Now, at 55, I am very late but fully into the menopause and I will need help again. I wish so much that you find someone who can help you ease the circumstances. I don’t go to male doctors anymore, I’ve decided to try women only – somehow they understand better what I’m talking about. Please take as much time for yourself and your healing as you need. You’ve already gone such an incredibly artistic way as a doll maker, if you slow down a bit now, it won’t harm your art – who knows, maybe that’s exactly what you need as an artist for your process now.

    I hug you from afar and wish you healing, strength, patience and lots and lots of love for yourself and for your process. I look forward to reading more from you and seeing your precious work.

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  26. Yes Anger and Anger at all that has happened to you. I know about loss, losing, grief but also about the salve of love. From others but also from your self to your self.

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  27. My Dearest dearest Gurl! I read your letter with growing sadness and then anger. The things that happen to Women in our system is beyond criminal. It’s just fuqin Butchery. Look… this is a poorly crafted letter… but I gotta get it to ya ok. And I’ll get to the point quickly. TCM…. ok TCM… Traditional Chinese Medicine. They recognise and embrace the Feminine. In the west were still terrified of it. Look… I’m no radical babe, but I’ve bin thru all this stuff. And many years ago, when my partner was sitting shaking with fear coz he’d bin told he needed major back surgery which was completely healed thru accupuncture, the physician said to me impassioned….. Annie; when you get any female problems, go to a Chinese traditional doctor because they UNDERSTAND it and can treat it. And I damn well did. Yes… they stick needles in ya, but they’re the width of a hair and it’s fine. I’d rather face that than have half my Gurl bits ript out. It’s gentle and they EXPLAIN WHY to you. It’s wholistic …and I felt SAFE. Any system that wants to butcher you is not one to go to. They’re not understanding of the famine or it’s principles. Look… I gotta run off but wanted to send this pronto. Find a Traditional Chinese Mededicine doctor. Don’t worry bout replying. You’re probably as busy as a beaver building a dam! And I can spell…. I just choose to do it my way…. ha ha ha ha. It’s more fun. Good luck Gurl. And go where you feel safe and respected and where they’re honest with you. 6000 thousand years of medicine compared to wot we’ve got…. it’s bollocks. Plus ova the centuries we’ve managed to wipe out our own ancient women’s knowledge and replace it with a slash and burn masculine system. Keep well fellow Maker. I’m in Australia by the way. Much Love ….. Annie du Winter…. 🤗🙏🏽🎉🎉🎉

    Sent from my iPhone

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