Between a rock and a hard place

What is: Pressing?

The fibroid tumor is pressing. It is pressing against other organs in my body. It is pressing for resolution, pressing for action. It isn't possible for me to coast. It apparently isn't possible for me to take the time to weigh options. As Carla Dionne describes in Sex, Lies & the Truth About Uterine Fibroids, I went from a diagnosis of a benign tumor that needed no further action to qualifying as a hot candidate for hysterectomy. That is pressing.

Between a rock and a hard place; that is how I now hear myself describe how I am feeling. That continues to be the only honest description, as yet another person kindly inquires after my condition. Now I am challenged to address this feeling state. It definitely is familiar to me, but never defined so starkly as now. In direct response to hard energy exchanges and contracted fear states, the mass in my womb is definitive, literally poking out in a hard shape, like a little conical mountain.

Being frightened about the fibroid itself makes it go hard. Besides having the very existence of my womb threatened, the most likely scenarios to turn it hard are financial pressures and so-called deadlines for making stuff happen in general. I have to sit with this and acknowledge that I am doing something to myself that isn't constructive or solution-oriented, and is seriously detrimental to my health.