I’m a peace-and-quiet-loving  girl.

I try to avoid drama.

I’m not good with urgent situations and emergencies.

That’s why the past 10 days have been a little nuts for me.

The Friday before last, my divorce was finalized by a judge. Logistically or practically, nothing changed in my life. My Ex and I even laughed about how we didn’t need a guy in a robe on a bench who knows nothing of us or our lives to tell us what’s what. But that’s how the system is and so we follow.

I didn’t expect to feel overly emotional, especially as I really hadn’t gone that route over the past few months.

But our bodies, and our brains, and our emotions don’t always care what we think we want or how we think we feel.

I was overwhelmed with emotion.

I spent what was supposed to be a celebratory weekend with a true from-the-gut sadness.

I wasn’t prepared for those emotions and they threw me for a bit of a loop. Thinking back now, I am grateful for those emotions and for the reminder that even I am human! But at the time, I was quite surprised by the strength of what I felt.

And I realized and accepted that even though this was something I wanted and I needed, I was still sad. No more, no less. I had lost something that had been and still was very near and dear to my heart. And very familiar. And safe.

I may not have needed it anymore, but it sure hurt to lose it.

As the next week progressed, I began to feel a dull ache in my belly. I attributed it to all of the emotions I was feeling and to stress.

I tried to ignore it but it wouldn’t go away.

After about a day-and-a-half of the pain that wouldn’t leave, my sister convinced me to get myself checked out. (This may be a good place to tell you that I have a very high tolerance for pain. I try to ignore it and am usually somewhat successful. I almost gave birth to my daughter in the Miami airport because I just went about my day as usual even though I was clearly in the throes of labor.)

Long story short, I ended up in the E.R. Friday night and at midnight was being prepped for surgery. Diagnosis: Appendicitis.

I’d never had surgery or even anesthesia before. I’d never “had” my own surgeon before. Never been in an O.R. or Recovery. I’d been in a hospital bed twice after giving birth to my two children, but that’s it.

Looking back, I was in a lot of phyiscial pain that I tried to ignore. Like the emotional pain I may have swept under the rug, it was there, trying mightily (and ultimately very convincingly) to get my attention.

That appendix, which I have now learned is a “finger-shaped organ,” apparently does nothing but take up space. Literally. And then sometimes, it decides to make itself known, always in a very painful and urgent way.

Not my kind of organ!

And yet, though we had no need whatsoever for it, it hurts to lose it. Just like the relationship that had run its course in my life. It had had its place and its day and its time, and despite needing to move on, it hurt and I hurt.

And yet behind the pain, and the doubt and the urgency and the suffering will be, I know, all of the great things I seek in life. The happiness and the freedom and the bliss and the love. I just know it. Not sure I needed these huge knocks in the head (and the gut) to remind me, but I get it now. I really do.

Two Fridays in a row, I was getting some very heavy messages. Lucky for me, I learn pretty quickly. And I hope The Universe knows this, because I am looking for this coming Friday to be a stay-at-home-movie-and-popcorn kind of thing. No courts and no Emergency Rooms. Please.