Hello! I would like to share my story. I am brand new to the site, and have just only come to terms with the fact that this syndrome has taken control of my health and emotional state of mind simultaneously for as long as I can remember.
First, I’ll start by saying that I am so pleased to see women of all walks of life coming together to help one another. It is both uplifting and empowering to read your stories and hear the successful defeat of this ugly beast that we are all so unfortunate to be plagued with. I am so pleased to be a part of this online community, and I hope that my story will only add to the continued strength and support of this system of cysters.
This story begins in 1996. When I was 9 years old, I began to develop breasts and had my period. Not only was I much taller than all of the boys in my class, but I was beginning to grow dark, coarse hair on my legs and acne was beginning to set in. I had hit puberty, far sooner than any other girl my age.
As the years passed, the harassment and taunting grew worse, as I began to develop facial hair. When I was 13 years old, I remember looking into the visor mirror in my mother’s sedan and seeing for the first time, (although I don’t know how it was possible) dark hair growing around my chin. My heart hit the ceiling, and in that moment, all of the pain and suffering I had endured came to a head. In that very second, it was confirmed in glass and plastic- I was “different.”
It was not until my late teens that I decided to play my own advocate. The daughter of a nurse, you would expect that the occurrence of facial hair would have sparked an emergency rat race to the family doctor, but a series of events did nothing of the sort. All cosmetic ailments aside, my mother always assured me that I was “normal.” Well, I knew that this just wasn’t true.
And after my hair began to thin, and 180 pounds of depressed meat was walking aimlessly about this world in self-loathing, I decided it was time. I made the dreaded call to the Ob/Gyn and scheduled an appointment. Within minutes of speaking with her, she had me prepped for an internal ultrasound.
A bit later, and as the words “Poly Cystic Ovarian Syndrome” passed over her lips and into the air, I peered down onto the print out of my ovaries and laid my eyes on my swiss cheese factory for the first time. I asked, “How can we fix these.. holes?” and just as you expect, her response was weak. “Well, they aren’t holes although they look that way, they are sacks of free fluid.
For the hair I can put you on birth control, but you will have to come in for regular ultrasounds to make sure there aren’t any large cysts developing.” That was it! Ten years of studying the hot spot and that was all this woman had to offer me. My heart once again hit the ceiling, and I knew that it was going to take all of my known resources, (including this wonderful thing we call the world wide web) to get some answers. What I have gathered so far are the following weapons: EXERCISE, a healthy diet excluding sugars and simple carbs, and a whole lot of faith. I thought for the longest time that I was alone, weird, and “different.” Well, we’re all different.
And in 100 years, modern medicine will be a whole “different” ballgame, and our battle will have long been won, but in the mean time, let’s kick some butt and fix this the best way we know how.
I look forward to sharing my stories and potentially helping yet another woman like us find her path to health and prosperity.
Want to connect with me? My name is ReverseTheCurse on the SoulCysters Message Board.