The words below come with a little warning as they refer to gynaecological surgery and grief. (There is a dusting of joy and wonder too and at the very bottom, I share news of two exciting things that I am currently working on.) If this is not for you, feel free to scroll on by or just jump to the last two sections to take a sneak peek at the new things. But thank you very much for reading if you do.
I’m now almost a month post-hysterectomy and am slowly re emerging into the world. The gentle cocoon that has held me, with kind extended hands from my loved ones and friends and beautiful notes and care packages that have arrived from afar, is something I’m very reluctant to leave.
It has been a soft little spot that I have dwelled in, away from the noise, away from the distraction and chatter that otherwise seeps and bleeds into my days. In the context of all that is taking place in the world right now, it has also been a privilege to have had my operation in a hospital, in a safe environment with access to medication and anaesthetic, and is something that I am exceptionally grateful for.
My journey to get a proper diagnosis and on to a surgical pathway has been long, fraught, frustrating and at times very traumatic. Yet my experience is not unusual and is certainly not rare. In fact, I know some very dear people who are having to battle their way in order to get proper care and treatment for similar issues and don’t get me started on those who are from marginalised groups who face the most horrific of obstacles and barriers to accessing care. It makes me seethe with anger and rage that women are continually ignored, dismissed and overlooked when it comes to any health related issues. For all the progress that has been made in medicine, we have such a long way to go. I don’t want our daughters, sisters, friends, aunties, mothers, neighbours, grandmothers to have to go through what I have and when I am feeling stronger, I want to make sure that others are heard, understood and listened to.
As I focus on healing, I’m holding on to that fiery rage so that I can put it to practical use and action in the future. In the meantime, I’ve spent much of the past four weeks ensconced in a bubble of books and journeying down memory lane as I’ve been unable to work. I've tried to do a bit of a digital spring clean and clear out… Along the way I’ve found some treasured correspondence, some half-started stories and so many forgotten photos. It’s been a beautiful little wander back to when we were living in Berlin, when I was in the throes of early mothering and navigating living abroad and being apart from my husband for long periods of time. I’ve found some children’s stories that I started as well as so many scrappy poems that were written during 3AM feeds. The photos of me back then show how young I was and it has been a timely reminder of how much has happened since.
The time and distance from distraction has also made me appreciate my womb much more. I had expected to feel much more grief and sadness that this was the only option for me and in all honesty, prior to the operation I was so very nervous and and had really been in a dark place. And yet for all the insults and labels that were hurled at my womb by medical professionals and for all the poking, prodding and scars that it endured and for all my anger towards its malfuntion, I’m seeing now that my womb was a cocoon. A cocoon that help hold my babies and while it was unable to keep hold of one and later became swollen and abnormal, I can look to letting go of it and welcoming in more space and thanking it for all that it did. There is no ceremony or ritual for saying goodbye to a womb but I want to make one of my own soon so I can more formally say farewell to the dear old thing.
Switching off everything has helped me hugely with this reframing (it may be that the sadness will arrive at a later date), yet recently my attention has strayed in such beautiful and unexpected ways. I’ve started two new children’s stories and while I feel so very out of my comfort zone, it has been an utter joy and a blessing to write something completely new.
The promise of lighter days of summer has held me this past week and as the tiredness slowly disappates, I’m looking towards a different chapter. I mentioned before that my last period arrived just an hour before I went into the theatre and that as I emerged the full moon was rising…. That in itself was been a moment of strange coincidence and noticing of what I had been holding on to and what happens when you let go of it.
As I heal and new scars can be traced in constellations across my body, in my womb’s absence, there is now hope for less pain and more light and space.
But most of all, these past few weeks have been a wonderful reminder that sometimes you never know what will appear out of the dark.
Coming soon
The Slow Burn Circle
From September, I’m so very excited to start two monthly-ish groups, one online here on Substack for paid subscribers and one for those who can make it in person, in our garden studio in Cornwall.
The Slow Burn Circle will be a space to share, a place to ponder and a moment to help spark some creativity.
An antidote to the whirr of today.
A moment to pause, play and gather some creative kindling.
A space to share, ponder and create.
Each month will be different and the whole intention is to let things unfurl and unfold. Using creative writing exercises, poetry and much more, it will be a very gentle and welcoming place to help kindle your curiosity. I can’t wait to see where it takes us and am looking forward to sharing more over the coming weeks.
Also coming soon…
The Nest Residency
It has always been my intention to make the Solo Writing Retreats accessible and inclusive. From my own experience, I know how difficult it can be to make the time, space and financial commitment that it takes to write. I can only write creatively in between the folds and the seams by wearing many other professional hats and as I have an incredible partner who is determined to help me fulfil my creative ambitions. I am acutely aware that there is so much gatekeeping that goes on in the industry and that there are so many barriers to creative opportunities for writing, especially for women. So, I want to help others and open up the space to those who would otherwise be unable to access it.
In the future, I really hope to offer fully funded places. Whilst I work on making this a reality, The Nest Residency will be the opportunity to apply for a subsidised spot to experience a two night retreat for just £50 on selected dates.
This will be open to anyone who would otherwise be unable to access a retreat and applications will open from 15th June - 30th July with the first date for a subsidised spot available this autumn.
The application process will be a simple form with a couple of questions and I hope to be able to offer more dates as things unfold. More news on this soon.
In the meantime, there are just a couple of dates left in July and September to book a retreat and there is still £50 off.
Last July dates available between 15th -23rd July
Last September dates available between 10th - 15th Sept
Such beautiful offerings and words Lucy 💛
I'm so glad you are taking time to heal. There is so much in womanhood that has lost its ceremony and ritual- and the things that do seem surprisingly superfluous in comparison to the things that don't. I love that you are finding ways to say your own goodbye. There's something in that the seems alchemical and magical, and beyond that, necessary.
Much love to you xx
Lucy, thank you for sharing how your healing is going. I had been wondering about you. You have been through the mill indeed, but this reads with such tenderness and beauty. I love the idea of your ritual to say farewell to your womb, it is a moment that should be marked indeed. Wishing you continued rest and recovery x