For years, everyone told me that painful periods were normal.
My mother said she experienced them.
My friends complained about theirs too.
Teachers told me to take painkillers and carry on.
So I did.
Until the pain became impossible to ignore.
Every month, I found myself curled up on the floor, unable to move. The pain radiated through my back, legs, and pelvis. Some days I vomited. Some days I fainted.
I missed school.
I missed work.
I missed birthdays, weddings, and family gatherings.
Yet every time I sought help, I heard the same thing.
"It's just menstrual cramps."
It took nearly ten years before I finally received a diagnosis.
Endometriosis.
A condition where tissue similar to the lining of the womb grows outside the uterus, causing inflammation, severe pain, and in some cases infertility.
Receiving the diagnosis was bittersweet.
I was relieved to know I wasn't imagining my symptoms.
But I was angry.
Angry that my pain had been dismissed for so long.
Angry that I had lost years searching for answers.
Today, I share my story for every girl and woman who has been told to simply "manage" unbearable pain.
Pain that stops you from functioning is not normal.
Pain that steals your quality of life deserves attention.
Your voice matters.
Your symptoms matter.
And you deserve to be heard.
Three open myomectomy surgeries.
Three recoveries.
Three seasons of pain, uncertainty, and rebuilding.
Each surgery brought its own challenges.
There were hospital admissions, blood tests, scans, medications, and financial concerns. There were moments when I felt exhausted physically, emotionally, and mentally.
There were days when I asked difficult questions.
Why me?
Will this ever end?
How much more can I take?
Yet through every season, I discovered a strength I never knew I possessed.
I learned to advocate for myself.
I learned to ask questions.
I learned the importance of finding trusted healthcare professionals.
Most importantly, I learned that my diagnosis did not define me.
Fibroids may have been part of my story, but they were not the whole story.
Today, I share my experience because many women feel isolated in their health journeys.
If you are facing surgery, know that your fear is understandable.
If you are recovering, be patient with yourself.
If you feel discouraged, remember that healing is often a process, not an event.
Your journey may not look like someone else's.
But there is life beyond the diagnosis.
There is hope beyond the surgery.
And there is purpose beyond the pain.
Sometimes our greatest wounds become the very places from which we are called to serve others.