If you read my last blog post, you'll know that I was at my parents' house for two and a half weeks, helping take care of my mom after a major surgery. I came home Sunday night, and my little family is finally reunited! Mom's at home now and doing really well, but she still has a long road ahead of her, recovery-wise. Thank you to those of you who have kept her in your thoughts and prayers. Please continue to do so. :)

So it's been a little while since my last blog post, and I thought I'd get a head start on the obligatory New Year's post. Since endometriosis is still incurable last I checked, 2016 will be another year with endo and all of the challenges it brings. 

This is also a very unpredictable disease, so it's hard for me to put together some cheesy New Year resolutions for my health aside from "just keep going," which seems to be my overall life motto... 

(Actually, I recently decided that this is my motto for 2016...)

Endometriosis has a very high recurrence rate after ablation surgery, which I had in December 2014. (If you're unfamiliar with the term, it involves burning off problem areas, which are then ideally healed by scarring. Unfortunately, some endometriosis cells will almost certainly be left behind to regrow.) I can't seem to nail down a good stat for this, but most of what I've read says recurrence rates can be as high as 45 percent a year after ablation.

This is why excision is considered the best option to treat endo since it cuts away lesions to ensure they are completely removed from the uterus. But it can be difficult or impossible to find an excision specialist in your state. (Mine doesn't have one, to my knowledge.)

Even now, I can tell that my pain has changed over the past few months. My endo was found around my left ovary and Fallopian tube, but my daily pain inventories have led me to suspect that some of that has migrated to my right side, too. As I've also mentioned before, I frequently feel pain shoot down to my left knee, leading me to think that maybe there are a few spots putting pressure on my sciatic nerve.

Due to poor research and treatment options, endometriosis unfortunately involves a lot of guessing games for the women it affects. My husband, Andrew and I were recently trying to plan out the next five years, and the topic of starting a family came up. Right now, we're both ambivalent about kids with me leaning toward "noooo thank youuuu." We haven't tried for kids, so it's not a guarantee that I can't naturally conceive.... but with endo, it's highly likely.

Andrew's life motto (since we're all about them this blog post) always seems to be "We'll cross that bridge when we get there." But I pointed out that we can't do that with endometriosis. We can't wait until I'm 30 and then suddenly say, "OH! We want kids now! Oh wait. Tracy's infertile, and we didn't save any money for adoption or IVF..."

So we have to guess that I'm infertile. We have to err on the side of caution and start putting away money for fertility treatments or adopting a child. And if we go with the former, we're going to have a long road ahead of us that may possibly go on for years and years.

(And hey, if we decide we don't want kids, European vacation!)

On my endo-versary this year, I'm in a hospital again. But not for myself. As I may have mentioned a few times in my writings, my mom has been fighting cancer for the past five years, and she had a major surgery this week to help with her treatment. (She's doing great and should be leaving the hospital in a few days, so yay!)

It's been an emotional six days for me as I drove back and forth from my parents' house to the hospital, worked remotely from my mom's room and comforted her through her excruciating pain and maddening recovery. I've held her hand in the ICU, celebrated with her when she was able to walk without a walker and laughed with her when we've found humor in exasperating hospital situations. I've also fallen asleep on a lot of hospital furniture in uncomfortable positions and shrieked "PUPPY!!!" when I saw a therapy dog...

I was at the gym the other day, and I noticed a guy with a workout tank that simply said, "One More." The meaning was pretty clear: one more repetition, one more mile, one more fill-in-the-blank. Push yourself past your limits, and you'll reap the benefits.

It's a very nice thought for someone who doesn't suffer from a chronic illness like endometriosis. But when pain and other symptoms get in the way, "one more rep" isn't always a great idea. So where is our "#fitspiration?"

This is just a post to wholeheartedly thank xoJane for letting me share my story with their readers. I've been overwhelmed by the positive responses to my article and the number of women who have experienced the same thing. As of today, my story has been shared more than 3,000 times!

If you've been with my blog from the beginning, you already know this story, but you can click here to read it on their site.

Thank you for this amazing opportunity, xoJane!

Not only have I really been into Depeche Mode lately, but I've also been into learning to turn off the world. As I may have mentioned before, endometriosis released my hidden introvert and toned down my need to constantly be surrounded by excitement. But to be more accurate, my illness has taught me to make time to shut everything out and focus on myself for a bit.

I am not a person who accepts "I can't." There are few things more frustrating to me than hearing someone talk about the reasons they're not able to do something (unless, of course, they're completely legitimate.) But having a chronic illness often involves waking up and assessing what you can and cannot do that day. And it's exasperating.

Let's face it. If you have endometriosis, your casual college acquaintance's "#fitspiration" Pinterest board probably depresses you more than it makes you want to go run a half-marathon dressed like a Disney princess. I actually like to tell people I do "marathon naps" to counter the barrage of "look how much I ran today" posts on social media.

But that doesn't mean I don't prioritize fitness. It's just that with a chronic pain condition, my fitness routine doesn't translate as prettily to Facebook. And that's not only because my overgrown haircut turns into tangled, sweaty mess after running for ten minutes...

Look how hilarious these salads are!

I wanted to talk about my diet change this week because I've been asked about it a lot. But before I begin, I'd like to emphasize that this was a choice I made on my own, and I don't necessarily endorse it for everyone. Diet change isn't proven to have any impact on endometriosis production and progression, but it's certainly helped me manage my IBS-like symptoms that come with my condition. To be honest, it could be because I'm just eating healthier, but either way, this is working great for me.

And of course, I'm not a doctor, health-care provider or any other kind of medical professional, so please ask your doctor before making major diet changes okay glad we got that out of the way.

I'm already a pro at embarrassing my dog child.

As of right now, I have not yet had any infertility issues. This is entirely because Andrew and I 1) aren't sure if we even want kids, and 2) we're very much sure we don't want kids right this instant. (Aside from our sweet puppy Juno, as pictured.)

That being said, we're well-aware of the likelihood that we will have trouble having kids, if we choose to have them.

Endometriosis is one of the leading causes of infertility among women, due to scarring, adhesions and generally lower egg quality. I don't know the exact stats, but I've read that even women with Stage I and II endometriosis have only a two percent chance of conceiving during a menstrual cycle. That's also not to mention the higher risks of miscarriage, premature birth, ectopic pregnancy and other complications that studies find in women with endo.

Since my typical reaction to children is still "oh god, get that thing away from me," I don't go through the emotional turmoil of knowing it will be difficult, if not impossible, for me to have kids naturally. But every so often, I do feel a twinge of embarrassment or general discomfort that many women with endometriosis feel when they hear the incomprehensibly frequent question, "When are you having kids?"

After being asked about "little Tracys and Andrews" one too many times, I think I've finally cracked, and I want to talk about this...

Have you ever seen a cartoon where the character notices a leak and puts his finger in it to stop the water from spraying out? But then another leak springs up, so he puts another finger over there. And then another. And another, until he's somehow using all of his fingers and toes.

Or, if you haven't, have you seen Star Wars Episode I? And everyone was like, "Oh, boy! George Lucas solved the prequels issue. This will be great!" And then they saw the movie and went, "Wait. What? That just made everything worse..."

That's how my life has felt over the past few months. And why my blog quickly and unfortunately fell by the wayside.

I could detail exactly how my life came to be that way, but I've always hated the "I'm so much more stressed out and busier than you are" game. So suffice it to say, work, life and other obligations piled up. (And as an aside, I'm growing out my pixie cut right now, which is a whole 'nother level of frustration, as any girl with short hair can tell you.)

But finally, things have started to calm down. On top of that, I'd received a lot of positive feedback about my blog and, as I was shocked to just discover, my blog views kept going up while I was gone! So I felt the pull to come back to this project and talk about, well, the past six months.

I just really wanted to use a Braveheart picture...

As you may recall, I marked last week as a high point in my treatment. My new medication was working, I was looking and feeling healthier, and I was showing progress in yoga and physical therapy. Well, as I've been learning  with endometriosis, it's great to celebrate these victories, but it's also important to not take the setbacks personally. Unfortunately, I took it very personally this week.

I've certainly hit a high point in my post-diagnosis life with endometriosis. Truthfully, this is probably the strongest and most healthy I've felt in years. That, plus the beautiful change in seasons, has made me feel terribly optimistic about my condition and life in general. A few things led to this point.

Having dealt with endometriosis symptoms for about 13 years and then being diagnosed in December, chronic illness has changed my perspective on a lot of things. This, coupled with my mom's cancer diagnosis being a strong influencing factor in my life, has really molded how I think, make decisions and my general outlook on life. Here are a few things I've learned:

After breaking up with my last doctor, I began the oh-so-fun process of finding a new ob/gyn. This involved a lot of intense googling until I found a local doctor who specializes in endometriosis. Righteous.

As I said in a previous blog post, they got me in right away, and so I spent a day off of work sitting in another waiting room. (That afternoon, I also had physical therapy, so it was a great day of being poked and prodded by doctors...)

While scrolling through Facebook and listening to the only two men in the waiting room talk about building stuff (super precious), my usual concerns came flooding back. What if this doctor tells me the same thing my old one did? What if this is the start of another round of going from office to office, begging someone to take my pain seriously? Or even better, what if by some shocking twist of fate I actually don't have endometriosis and I'm actually just crazy?

Yeah, you could say I was a little nervous...

I'm no stranger to therapy. Having dealt with bouts of depression and anxiety for a few years of my life, I'm not shy when it comes to admitting my weaknesses and opening up about my struggles.

However, physical therapy is a little different. Where mental health counseling often goes, "Let's come to a consensus about where you're struggling and learn how to manage that," physical therapy goes, "Yeah, you suck at this long list of things. Let's fix it."

After turning down Lupron, I decided to try PT to manage an ongoing pain in my left side (right where my endometriosis was found) and dyspareunia - an unfortunately common symptom of endo. But little did I know that I would be dealing with more than I expected.

I like to imagine this "Doctor" is my Old Doctor after we broke up...

"Doctor, it's not me. It's you."

That's what I would have said to my doctor if I could have spoken with him directly. Don't get me wrong. I appreciate everything he's done for me up until this point. But the operative words in that last sentence were "up until this point."

To be perfectly honest, I feel like I've been left high and dry with my recent endo diagnosis, ever since I refused to go on Lupron. Let's recap:

I'll try not to be too cheesy, but this is my first Valentine's Day as a married person and with (diagnosed) chronic illness. I don't really make a big deal out of the holiday, but over the past six months, I've been overwhelmed by the love Andrew has shown me just by being supportive and constant throughout my condition. 

So I thought I'd dedicate my blog post today to Andrew and his ever-present love and affection. Even if I'm sore and crabby and I don't feel like going anywhere, even if I've been in pajama pants with no makeup for three days, even if I drag him to another doctor appointment at another hospital, he never complains, never makes me feel inadequate and always has faith in me.

(Shut up. I love Matchbox 20.)

So yesterday, I was browsing an endometriosis Facebook support group when I saw a post that said, "What do you guys think of this BuzzFeed video?" The link took me to an article titled "One Woman's Journey With A Disorder That Affects Over 170 Million Women."

My immediate reaction was "Holy crap! A high-traffic website is bringing attention to endometriosis?!" Maybe my blinders are coming off now that I've been diagnosed with endo, but up until yesterday, I don't recall ever seeing a popular website talk about this condition. The only other instance I can think of is a 2009 story from ABC News about Padma Lakshmi's journey.

Having heard very few women talk so openly about their endo journey, this video is a big deal to me. Not only because she detailed her physical symptoms. She also talked about the emotional impact that endo has on its victims.

If there's one thing most people with a chronic illness can relate to, it's the feeling that no one is listening to you. In my case, "no one" means "doctors."

I don't want to come down hard on doctors because they truly have a tough job. Every patient wants to be their top priority, and not every patient can be at one time. So I try really hard to give my doctors a break, but eventually, I can't take it anymore.

I'm sure that many endometriosis patients can relate to this title.

As soon as I think I have a grip on my condition, I feel like I've gone backward. And sometimes, you get really tired of fighting and pushing. And that's how I felt this week.

One of the frustrating parts of the past two years has been figuring out what I can and can't eat. Once we figured out I had endometriosis, it was a little less frustrating since I sort of had guidelines. But I still hate feeling awful after meals or having to forego foods I once enjoyed. (Although I was never crazy about red meat or alcohol, so that's not a loss...)

But this has also been a good thing for Andrew and me. We've been eating a lot healthier lately, and I've devoted more time to taking care of myself. I've also discovered new foods that I like and how to cook them.

Before I begin, I'd like to put in a plug for a clothing company started by a former high school classmate. Pretty Girl Movement inspires body positivity and fitness in all women, regardless of size or age. I, like many women, often struggle with self-image and motivating myself to work out, so this was definitely a movement I could get behind. I bought a tank that I could show off at my yoga studio, and it really does remind me why I work out: to feel good about myself inside and out. Check out the website to learn more and browse their selection of tanks, snapbacks, sweatshirts and more.

Okay, now onto the yoga!

I'm going to start off this blog post with a disclaimer. Upon skimming through a post I made a few days ago, one reader thought that I was advocating substituting an anti-inflammatory diet in place of treatment and medication. In response to that, I said, "Wow, noooo way am I doing that." I was actually sort of baffled that anyone would think that, but after re-reading that post, I could see how someone may interpret what I said that way. So I apologize for any confusion, and I've updated the post accordingly.

Absolutely do not use this diet in place of medication. I personally am taking continuous birth control as a way to slow/stop endometriosis production. This diet won't stop endo. What I believe it will do is help manage the symptoms you might feel as a result of endo (upset stomach, indigestion, general pain and discomfort, etc.)

So again, sorry for any confusion. I'm not advocating for foregoing treatment and medication. If there's one thing I firmly believe in, it's the power of modern medicine and science. So please don't stop taking your medication, and please don't use a blog written by a 24-year-old with a BA in political science in place of real-life doctor advice.

Anyway, on with the food! (Note: I don't consider this recipe anti-inflammatory, due to how I felt afterward, but it is delicious.)

Hey! You can now have my new blog posts sent to your email. Cool.

It's been about four weeks since my laparoscopy, and I'm still not feeling 100 percent. On good days, I'm at about an 85 percent. But today, I think I'm still hovering around 60.

Following yoga on Sunday, I started to feel some bruising behind the incision on my belly button and decided to skip class on Tuesday. I was all ready to go to class on Thursday, until I felt some of my old familiar pain creep in and cause me to completely lose focus at work.

Before I get into how much I love tea, I just wanted to thank everyone who has looked at my blog this week. After I officially rolled it out on my Facebook page and Twitter, my blog received more than 600 views. Say whaaat?!

More importantly, I have received an outpouring of love and support, even from people I haven't talked to in years. Friends offered to connect me with physicians and physical therapists. Acquaintances reached out to let me know they suffered from endometriosis or polycystic ovary syndrome and offered encouragement and advice throughout my treatment. And even others just sent me a quick message to let me know they read my blog and hoped I felt better soon. 

All of this has been incredibly humbling and motivating, and I'm tearing up a bit just writing about it. I really don't feel especially brave or inspiring for writing this blog, and honestly, my endo is not nearly as bad as many other women out there. But I truly appreciate every single word of encouragement, no matter who it comes from (I mean it), and I really hope this blog can be helpful to someone, regardless if they suffer from a chronic condition or not.

Anyway, before I get too sappy and sentimental, let's talk about tea. My recommended soundtrack for this blog post is anything by David Bowie because it's his birthday and he's fantastic.

Right after my wedding, I got into yoga. I wanted to find an exercise routine that worked for me and that I actually wanted to do every day, and yoga had always sounded appealing to me. After finding a Groupon for a studio down the street from my apartment, I decided to actually give it a shot.

As far as yoga studios go, mine is pretty intense. It permanently smells of incense, has pictures of the Dalai Lama and other notable Buddhists all over the walls, and my instructor leads us in chants with a harmonium before class and rambles in Sanskrit a lot. In other words, get on my level.

My entire life, I have disliked fish. The only type I could occasionally eat were the fish fillets my mom would make once in a while. But when I decided to cut out red meat entirely from my diet, I realized the only types of meat I could eat were chicken and turkey. That didn't leave me a lot of options...

So after doing some soul-searching and Pinterest-ing, I decided to give fish another shot. After all, I'm a big kid now, and my food interests have changed pretty dramatically over the past few years. And when I saw this dish included my all-time favorite food, avocado, I couldn't say no.

Here are parts one and two of my diagnosis.

Two weeks after my surgery, I kicked off New Year's Eve at my ob/gyn's office for a follow-up appointment. I, like everyone else, decided to sneak this in before my insurance deductible ran out, and so Andrew and I sat in a crowded waiting room, playing on our phones. I didn't have to wait long, but it felt like forever. I had been pouring over endometriosis message boards and reading articles all throughout our Christmas travel, and I was ready to get some answers directly from my doctor.

As part of my effort to get better and avoid a drastic treatment like Lupron, I have decided to change my diet and focus on eating anti-inflammatory foods. This is great for both Andrew and me, since his family has a history of arthritis and other inflammatory illnesses.

Now, I am not a good cook. I can bake an awesome pumpkin cheesecake or whip together some cupcakes, but cooking is not my forte. Andrew, on the other hand, is a great chef. He makes everything look easy and delicious. But now that there is a mission behind my food, I have started to get back into the kitchen and acquaint myself with domestic living.

If you're just joining me here, it might be helpful to read part one of my diagnosis first.

After Dr. Carl suggested a laparoscopy, I spent some time weighing my options and talking things over with my mom and Andrew. More than anything, I was worried that this surgery - my first ever - would be all for nothing. I would spend an absurd amount of money on an invasive procedure, only to find out that no, I didn't have endometriosis. Instead, I just kind of suck at life and can't handle my pain. But my desire for peace of mind finally outweighed my fear of anesthesia and spending money, and I scheduled the laparoscopy.

For as long as I can remember, I have dreaded my period. Not in the "Hahaha Shark Week, amirite?!" sort of way that most girls hate their period. I mean a profound, all-consuming feeling of dread that's caused me to cancel social plans and expect to miss work or school at least once a month. Because I knew that for at least a day or two, I would be in bed, completely paralyzed with pain and desperately clinging to a heating pad for some semblance of relief. Painkillers were useless. The only solution was to wait to pass out from the pain and sleep it off.