(Fair warning: This will be an exceptionally nerdy blog post because I really. really love Star Wars.)

So Saturday was the two-year anniversary of me being diagnosed with endometriosis - my endo-versary, if you will. But my mind wasn't really on it or even on what it should have been, which was the fact I'd be seeing Rogue One in mere hours.

Instead, feelings of sheer hopelessness and inadequacy decided to pile up that day.

My husband, Andrew and I drove that afternoon to a local humane society, hoping to adopt a sister or brother for our dog, Juno. I have a bleeding heart for animals and will literally take any homeless animal that crosses my path, Andrew, on the other hand, is much more rational, assessing whether the dog will thrive despite our lack of fenced-in yard, whether he or she will get too big for our rental home, etc.

So of course, this episode led to me falling in love with a yellow lab, only to have Andrew gently (and, admittedly, correctly) tell me she wasn't a good fit for our home. In fact, none of the dogs at the shelter that day were a good fit for Juno or our small house.

I guess my heart couldn't take another "no" because when we got to the car, I silently held back tears and drove us home. Once in our living room, I curled up on the couch with Juno and cried to Andrew, trying to explain my overflowing emotions that may or may not be directly related to my IUD - WHO KNOWS IT'S A MYSTERY.

Ever since my surgery, my life has felt like a long series of "no"s or "not good enough." My best efforts to support my health, benefit myself or even contribute to my community felt like a drop in the bucket. Like I was throwing effort, energy, time and money to the wind, only to have it come back that I wasn't making a difference. 

Whether it was a lonely dog I wanted to give a home for Christmas, or money donated to a cause I care about, or a new treatment that I expected to alleviate my endometriosis pain, my best intentions were continually met with "no."

And I consider myself fairly patient, but when I can't make any headway at all, I tend to take it personally.

I managed to get my tears together in time to grab dinner with our friend who came with us to Rogue One. If one thing can briefly take my mind off my frustration, it's Star Wars. I've been pretty much obsessed with these movies since I was six years old, so as someone who has waited 20 years to see women as THE Star Wars hero, this is a great time in my life.

So let me start this section off by saying it is REALLYYYY difficult for me not to completely lose my shit over how good Rogue One was and ruin it for you, but I will try my damned hardest.

Without giving away the movie's glorious plot, I will summarize it as this. The main characters give so much to a cause and have no idea how much their actions will impact the grand scheme of everything that happens in Episodes IV-VI. They run at it headfirst because they believe in the cause, but there's honestly no expectation that they will succeed or that it will make difference. But they do it anyway because they care and hope so. much.

And when that realization hit me in the last 15-ish minutes of the film, I literally started sobbing. Hard. In the middle of the movie theater. While my husband laughed and held my hand.

I continued to cry through the end of the movie and intermittently until we got to the car.

My epiphanies tend to happen at unlikely moments and right when I need them. At that time, Rogue One was exactly what I needed to hear.

I understood the sensation of foolhardy hope and the overwhelming, consuming need to do something, to not just sit there idly and let things happen. It's why I made this blog to  begin with. It's why I spend an entire day carting my husband around to gather things for a cause I need to help RIGHT NOW, NO NOT LATER, NOW.

And while I feel that talking about my uterus, arguing with my doctors and begging strangers to take control of their health aren't even blips on the radar of history, they are.

I may not live to see a cure for my disease, but I hope and believe there's one out there. I at least know there are better treatments out there.

I may not live to see the causes I'm devoted to resolve themselves or end happily. But my effort does amount to something.

One of my favorite lines from the film, which will not spoil Rogue One for you, is "Do you think anyone is listening?" I love that because it's something I say to myself so frequently, especially after I launch off an embarrassingly emotional blog post or leave a crabby voicemail at my doctor's office. Or in other words, "I've done my part. Now, what will people do with it?"

No matter how much it hurts or exhausts me, I'll continue doing my part for endometriosis advocacy. And I'll push myself to do more. Because I know I couldn't live with myself if I did nothing.

If you're feeling like me about something in your life, I encourage you to keep doing what you're doing and never let the fear of ineffectiveness wear you out. As pessimistic as I've been about the world over the past few months (or year?), I do sincerely believe things come together the way they should when good people work hard toward an end. 

I believe in a better future for our world. And we're the force to see it through.

Approximately three weeks after my surgery, I emerged the cave that is my home, shriveled in the sunlight and trudged to the gym. I was anxious to get back, and not only because my in-laws gave me a sweet early Christmas present: bright pink running shoes. I could feel my back and shoulders aching the way they do when I'm inactive. And I was feeling pain up and down my legs that I thought some cardio would fix.

So when I finally scanned my neglected gym membership card and hopped on to the elliptical, I felt empowered. I basked in the joy of overcoming a sliver of my illness. I managed to run two-and-a-half miles (slower and with less resistance than I usually do), and I came home with a renewed sense of strength.

In my surgery, I got a Mirena IUD placed. Given the mixed reviews women have with IUDs, I was really worried that my body would immediately reject it. (I've heard some horror stories...) But for those three weeks, my uterus cooperated, to my relief. And being able to manage the gym was a sure sign to me that my IUD was here to stay.

...and then two days later, I spent an entire day trying not to throw up.

I had already lost six pounds since my surgery (uh what?), so I was concerned with this nausea that seized my entire body for 24 hours. I could hardly concentrate on work, and any time I sat upright, waves of sickness would overcome me. I spent that afternoon sort of leaning on the couch so that I could still work and not vomit all over my laptop.

After work, my husband, Andrew and I went to check out a rental home we were considering moving into. As I was scanning the living room, my body said, "No, seriously. You're going to puke." 

I immediately walked away and pretended to be super interested in the yard that I had already looked at. There was no way I was going to throw up in this poor woman's house. Andrew came out to check on me, knowing I was sick, and I asked him to apologize to the landlord for me. I thankfully never did throw up...

On the way home, we stopped less than a mile from our home so that I could spit into the grass a few times.  And as soon as we walked through the door, I flopped down on the bed with a mop bucket next to me and took a nap. I woke up at 7:30 p.m., tried to eat something and immediately realized that wasn't going to work out. So I went back to bed at 8:30 p.m. and gave up on the day.

"What was that?" I wondered the next day. "Is this just a thing that's going to happen from now on? Or did I catch a 24-hour flu? Just, what is this?"

That sort of nausea, plus the new breakout of acne on top of my already scarred cheeks, wasn't something I wanted to deal with. While an IUD would potentially stave off endometriosis growth and keep me from having to worry about birth control pills, these were very inconvenient side effects...

I messaged a few endo sisters, asking for input. They sympathized, each having their own tales of IUD woes. Of course, it was still a little early to tell whether or not these symptoms were directly related to my IUD. But I had a pretty good feeling they were...

Here's the ironic thing I've noticed about IUDs. All of the women I know who have them and don't have serious reproductive issues LOVE THEM. They were the ones who were most vocal in supporting my decision to get one.

But my friends with endometriosis? "Yeah, go for it, if you want."

That should have tipped me off that having an IUD might not be smooth sailing. Of course one of the limited treatment options for endometriosis would offer a slew of side effects to the women it's supposed to help!

Again, it's still early to see whether or not my IUD will be more trouble than it's worth. But I've unfortunately had quite a few endo sisters get theirs removed after a few months. Which, knowing that most women didn't have the luxury of being unconscious during insertion like I did, really, really sucks.

I'm keeping an eye on my side effects, harassing my dermatologist about my breakouts and crossing my fingers that everything will balance out. I'm hoping some of this weight I've lost comes back, but I've noticed my IBS-like symptoms have crept back since my surgery, too. (That I think is just a consequence of surgery.)

Anyway, if any of this sounds like your IUD experience, please let me know. And if you're thinking about getting an IUD, please don't let my experience put you off! Every woman is different, and it might work perfectly for you! You never know until you try.