Every year in the United States, roughly 500,000 to 600,000 women, primarily in their 40s, undergo a hysterectomy^1,2 . While that’s less than 2% of the US population every year, it seems I know more women than that who have undergone this procedure. Soon, I will be part of that number and demographic.

I didn’t make this decision lightly. As mentioned in my last post, no longer do I want to persist with issues that I’ve been addressing from many angles for over a decade. I am done. It wasn’t just my brain that weighed in. My body, and my uterus itself, had a say, too.

We as humans are not separate in mind and body. One doesn’t function exclusively without the other. As a former bodyworker of 14 years, a certified Yoga instructor of 10 years with a certification in Yoga philosophy, I’ve studied and worked with systems within people’s bodies (both visible/anatomical and not), not to mention the human living in that body. It’s imperative, in my opinion, to consider each, as well as the whole. After all, we experience every moment of life via our bodies. There exist deep, innate intelligence and wisdom within our tissues, organs and cells. Seeing a newborn or witnessing a person’s healing process, to name a couple, always remind me of this. The same goes for my body, and for yours, no matter what dysfunction may be present at any given time.

When I check in with my body and ask my uterus how it feels about being removed, I get, “It’s okay. I’m ready.” Even though my only children are of the inter-species, furry, four-legged variety, and I’ve not used this organ for its ultimate function of growing new life, I’m still a bit saddened to lose part of my Self. Literally.

Some may say, “It’s just an organ you weren’t using for its purpose. No big deal.” For some women, maybe it’s not a big deal, and that’s fine. For me, it is a big deal. Not just for the surgery itself, and the unknowns of how my recovery is going to go (I intend for it to go smoothly), but because of the potential it might create, and the symbolism for this part of the female form.

In the Yogic/Indian tradition, the reproductive organs are associated with the second cakra (pronounced “chuck-ruh”) or energy center, called svādhiṣṭhāna (pronounced “svah-dish-tah-nuh,” which translates to “dwelling of the Self.” If you thought that the Self lived solely in the mind and brain, think again. Svādhiṣṭhāna is also associated with the water element, the moon, creativity, sexuality, our emotions, and more. To think of the “dwelling of the Self” being removed, it really does feel like losing a part of my Self. Yet the ancient sages that were so attuned to these concepts had no idea how much good could come from removing this organ that causes enough problems for, well, about 500,000 women in the US alone every year. After talking with a friend who is an OB-GYN of 30 years’ experience, she said most of her patients say after a hysterectomy, “I wish I’d done it sooner.” I wonder what the ancient sages would say to that.

How do we reconcile losing part of our bodies, part of the “dwelling of our Selves,” with the freedom, relief and potential that many women experience with this procedure? How does this necessary and helpful surgery affect us as women not just physically, but energetically, emotionally, and spiritually?

Being equally a science and anatomy nerd, and a spiritually oriented “woo-ish” woman and human, my brain wants to examine this from all angles. There’s the physiology, of course, the energetics and what the uterus represents, and the practical human aspect of, “Thank goodness I won’t have to deal with that anymore.” While svādhiṣṭhāna is the center of creativity, I feel like I will literally have more space for that creative energy after the hysterectomy. When life is simpler, as one woman I know described it after her procedure, we can often tap into that creative energy more easily.

Whether is a chosen hysterectomy, peri- or menopause, or other life change, there is always something to let go and grieve, regardless of whether we recognize the thing we’re releasing as a positive or negative thing. Even when we look forward to a change, there can still be grief. This doesn’t mean the grief needs to be particularly heavy or significant, but it’s still there, and deserves at least a moment of attention. Grief needs to be felt, witnessed, and released. For me, this used to be really difficult. I would fight feeling grief as much as I could. I didn’t want to feel it, for fear it would be too much and I’d essentially never recover. Gratefully, with a lot (ie years) of inner work and outside support, that’s not the case for me anymore, but I share this in case you’re in that space.

All humans, but women in particular, go through significant changes in life, and not just physically. These phases, shifts, pivots and changes often challenge us to our core, making us ask ourselves questions like:

“Who am I?”
“Who am I with/without [x]?”
“What do I really want for my life, now and in the future?”

Sometimes the first answer is “I have no f-ing idea,” and that’s okay. What I do know is that when we get clear on what we want, voice it (sometimes for the first time), and visualize it, then we can begin to take meaningful steps, even if they’re measured metaphorically in micrometers or fractions of inches, toward creating not just the life, but the person we want to be. The person you were meant to be: personally and professionally.

I know I haven’t become a new version of my Self over recent years all on my own. Having coaches, friends, professionals and colleagues who helped guide me down paths, stayed by my side but let me figure out Me on my own was instrumental. Sometimes you just need someone to listen, ask you really good questions, and teach you some tools so you can successfully step into the next, better, or even best version of your Self.

Perhaps I’m not so much losing a part of my Self with this hysterectomy, but rather creating space for more freedom, possibility, creativity, and joy. Ultimately, an even fuller expression of the person I want to be, and who I’m meant to be.

When you feel like you’ve lost or are losing a part of your Self, it would be an honor to help you reclaim You.