It’s Already Over…

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I wake up every morning to a “standard” level of pain. It can waiver slightly, but it pretty much stays the same. I think about waking up next to someone and having them see me fumble my way to my bathroom. I imagine them realizing that I am going to be some level of ill at all times. For the rest of my life. I can’t help but to think:

“It’s already over.”

Chatting. Laughing. Having a great time, when suddenly a pain shoots through my side, causing me to pause and slouch over in pain. Visceral hypersensitivity has decided laughing is over.

“It’s already over.”

Eating. Sharing. Getting to know one another, when suddenly my spoon drops from my hand, causing soup to splatter all over my front. My hand lost grip due to my arthritis.

“It’s already over.”

Outside. Walking. Holding hands. Sweet nothings, when suddenly I slouch over and need to find a bathroom! My IBS is acting up, and it is urgent!

“It’s already over.”

Couple walking in feild I am often referred to as a man hater due to my very strong opinions about women’s rights, and protecting us from the fear of rape and abuse. Calling a woman a man hater over her fighting for her gender’s rights is simply ridiculous. Not one day goes by where something doesn’t happen that is hurtful or abusive towards me from a man. We are taught to ignore it. To walk away. To let it go. Some also think that since I meet and talk to so many men online, that I must just be a man hating slut. This can’t be furthest from the truth.

The reality is that I am ill. I have met men in the past I liked, however my body was out of order. Trying to date someone is so hard when you have so much going on inside. So much going on in your body.. and in your mind. In my mind. I know that the more I think, the worse it gets. Maybe not the illness, but the fear. The thought that once I come out with all of my ailments, the first thing they will do is run. They will want to run as far away from me as possible, and never return. Each time I see a face react to a moment of clarity. A moment of realization. Each time I can’t help but to think:

“It’s already over.”

But is it? Is it really over, or is it all in my head? Do they want to stick around? Do they want to talk about it, learn about it, and even one day accept it? I have no idea, but I figure that if this is the case, one day it will simply happen. Someone will educate themselves. They will take the initiative. They will see the value in me that still exists, and base what develops off of that. I may be the one standing in my way, but it has nothing to do with my feminism. It has everything to do with my self sabotage. My fears. My pains. My hurt and anger still lingering because I am ill. It’s possible that it really is already over, long before it begins.

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Dear Facebook..

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Visceral hypersensitivity. I was told about 6 weeks ago I have this. It is directly related to IBS, and is easier for me to just call it severe IBS. Technically it isn’t.

Link below.

http://gut.bmj.com/content/48/1/125.full

Read.

Learn.

Understand.

I have this. It is very much related to everything else I deal with. I still have the other stuff. That did not go away either. I am treating them. Working on them. Dealing with them daily. I am glad I am feeling better than I was before. That being said…

It pretty much will control my life until I get it under control. Even then, it will control nearly everything I do. What I eat. Where I go. WHEN I go. What I do when I am there.

woman-frustrated-frustration-angry-argh-laptop-notebook-600x400 There is no quick or easy fix. For any of these. It takes time. Healing. Finding the right diet balance. Maybe the right medication. Maybe a nice mix of both.

Elimination. Additions. Testing. Food journals. Successes. Failures. Relapses. Anger. Frustrations. None of this is easy, or fun. I know I am no longer fun either. I can see it in your face. Hear it in your voice. Notice it in your absences.

How will I get back to normal? I won’t know until I get there…

I am not asking for you to be sorry for me, just to understand me. If you don’t want to know how I am, don’t ask. I will tell you. Sometimes I politely say “Fine” because I know that is what you want to hear.. but I would prefer you just don’t ask me. We can still talk and hang out, but understand that if I don’t come, I am not rejecting your invites to be a jerk. Why stop inviting me? Because I am no longer fun.

I want to go. I want to be fun. I want to be there. My wants don’t control my body anymore. You think it is a choice? You think I do this to myself? No. Educate yourself.

So…

Quit being a jerk to me about it. If you can’t handle it, then don’t pretend to still be interested in my friendship. Walk away. I would rather lose you than think you are on my side, when really you are behind my back mocking me. Talking about me. Saying those terrible things that just aren’t true because you are ignorant to what is happening. Just walk away. Walk away and stop being fake. You’re not doing anyone a favor. Not me, and not you.

I’m Just That Kind Of Person…

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I often think about writing motivational speeches to myself, even with the knowledge that is total bs, just in hopes that I’ll actually believe myself one day.

12.21.TrulyMotivationalSpeech_670556961 Not the standard “you can”, “you are”, “just keep swimming” speeches, but intense, long ones with specifics about my life. I am aware “positive thoughts bring positive forces” is actually only your perspective of a situation. Someone trying to merge in front of you on the freeway would be nothing to bother with one day, but on a bad day it could result in the morning being even more ruined!!! Bad things happen all around us every day, and so do good. It just depends on what you think of that moment. See? Some kind of motivating blah blah, though these are already my daily goings about.

My problem is that even when written by me, taking about my goals… I’ll still think it’s total bs. I’m just that kind of person.

It’s All Moving Too Fast..

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Groggy and still a little drugged from my nighttime muscle relaxer, I wandered into the bathroom. My guts churned and growled at me as I took each painful step. I’m used to the pain in my feet in the morning. Same old, same old. As I finish my painful, and awakening business on the toilet, I looked at my scale right next to be. “I wonder how much I weigh…”
Pulling the scale out, I laid it flat on the floor, sighed, and stepped on. I stood up straight for about 5 seconds then looked down. download “Uhhh… that can’t be right.” I had weighed myself Friday, and was down 20 in the last 5 weeks. Let’s try this again. Step off. Move slightly around in case the floor was not leveled and the cause for the results. Back on. Same weight. Moved. Same. Moved again. Same. I had lost 5 pounds in three days.

As someone who gained 80 lbs in a year from illness, it’s nice to see that I’m losing weight… but this fast? Last night I had taken an epsom salt bath that had resulted in black water afterward. Not the best thing.. but to lose weight this fast concerns me! The only thing I can think of is that for one, I’m very sick and eating healthier… which still makes me sick. For two, the obstruction in my colon was gone, and allowing my body to process the foods I eat, instead of holding onto them. Then burning the fat instead of feeding myself toxins non stop.

As happy as I am today that people have begun to notice the change, I’m still hurting. I have fissures through my entire colon. Internal hemorrhoids. Polyps. It’s going to take months to heal. Using the bathroom feels like FIRE! But at least I’m getting skinny, right? Hmm… it hurts. If I have to go through this the entire time until I’m thin again? I just want to stay fat instead…

It Might Happen Today…

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It might happen. I might end up swewing all over someone today. I’m running a temperature, there’s a nausea that starts in my groin, and moves up into my neck. I can feel something unpleasant through my entire core, and I know this feeling is straight vomit. I’m avoiding any funds except water, however today oohs physical therapy.

  Right now I’m sitting with my feet wrapped in ice, as I’ve finished my therapy for the morning. Feeling worse than when I awoke, I know it’s coming. I just don’t know when, or where. I’m hoping I can, as I’ve generally been able to, hold it until I make it to a restroom. But it might happen. Today might be the day. Work, here I come. Sick, tired, and nauseated. Watch out.

Lucky, Lucky Me…

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This morning I woke up incredibly sore. My 4 year old had climbed into my bed during the night, no doubt to waking up feeling strange since I moved her sister into another room yesterday. Now my two that are currently home are not sharing a room. This is a huge relief for me, as bedtime and punishments are going to go much smoother. My punishments of sending to the room are more of my girls taking a breather. The corner and chores are for REAL punishments; but I digress.

I woke up with sore arms, legs, back, and neck. I am sure I had slept funny, since I was knocked out by medications instead of falling asleep on my own. I have to ensure I am in a good position before I nod off, otherwise I will likely stay with my head slightly tilted, and wake up with a stiff neck. This is also partially due to the disks being destroyed in my neck. Almost anything can cause my neck to twinge and ache, unless I am careful.

Looking at the clock it was 7am. I needed to be to work in an hour, and have a 25 minute drive. CoolClock I immediately decided that my hair and face were last on the list of things that needed to be done today. Getting out of bed, I put my aching feet on the floor. They screamed at me to get back in bed; feeling like I had stepped on a pile of broken glass, as well as swelling and burning. As usual, I ignored them and did that funny walk I have to do into the bathroom. Flipping on the light I could see that the small amount of makeup I had applied yesterday was all cleanly washed away by the hours of tears I had shed. My eyes were only slightly swollen and red, so a tiny bit of concealer and some mascara would hide that away. It took less than 30 seconds for my face, and less than a minute to pull my hair into a messy, curly ponytail. Good enough for me.

I yelled out to my already awake and playing kids to get their own clothes on, and settled into finding mine. Of course, today was a plain jeans and t-shirt day. Easy to find ones that fit right now, as I have dropped 20 lbs since I suffered through the bowel obstruction a few weeks ago. Not anything that changes how I look to those around me, but enough that I can feel my clothes getting a bit more loose. Good for when my skin is ultra sensitive, as it is today. Throw on my favorite striped hoodie, and I am good to go. I was already sore, exhausted, and my heart hurt. What a typical day for those of us who suffer from any type of chronic illness. After using the bathroom, we can add a sore ass to that pain. I sure do love fissures, don’t you?

Going into the hall I could see my 7 year old all ready to go, tying her shoes as fast as she could. She knew mom meant business. She knows that I am entirely heartbroken over what happened to my pet Bobbi The Rabbit. The youngest, however, was still pantless and dancing around in her own special amusement. Pretty typical of my carefree curly headed baby girl. At 4 years old, she towers over all of the other kids her age, and looks more like she would fit into the first grade. This causes her to be clumsy, and fumble over herself constantly. This also means that she has more accidents, and accidentally causes harm where if she were a normal sized 4 yr old, no harm would be done. Throwing a pair of cropped pants her way, I insisted she hustle, or get left. The good thing about curly hair is that it always looks intentionally messy. No need to fight this girl on her crazy locks. Let it go, and let’s go.

After dropping my girls at the daycare, I hurried down the highway towards the freeway that would lead straight to the office. Recently I had my car worked on, due to a hole in my radiator, and had found to have random car troubles since. I did find it peculiar that there was a small puddle under my car this morning, though I figured it was just from the sprinklers. I took a few photos just in case. Back to driving down the highway, I happened to look down and notice my thermostat was going crazy. hqdefault I flipped on the heat. Nothing. Cold air. GREAT! This means I was COMPLETELY out of fluid. This is a double concern because I filled the car to the brim no less than a week ago, and obviously because of the puddle. My car was about to blow. FANTASTIC! It was a good sign that no smoke was coming out of the car, as that would mean it had likely blown a gasket, or another radiator hole. There was a McDonalds no more than a block away.

After popping in the hood I was able to confirm my suspicions. There was fluid leaking near the radiator, which looked like it was at the end of it’s ropes, and my overflow was empty. I had 20 minutes to get to work, and it was very apparent that was not going to happen. Just like any child in a stressful and binding situation… I called my mommy. I called her and belted out my frustrations, my complete unwillingness to work with the mechanic’s shop again, and begged for some help. I always seem to end up having one of my amazing crisis’s on her day off. Lucky, lucky me. I get to wait in the McDonald’s for as long as needed until my mom can come get me and whisk me off to work. Luckily I have a friend whose husband is a mechanic, and would take a look at it for me later today. Lucky, lucky me.

So, here I am on my lunch break. Trying to keep my head in the game, and not think about all my ailments. Not think about the isolation that I feel, and the unhappiness that is always lingering around me. I have multiple client accounts to work on today, which only three out of the 10 accounts that need vital attention are actually mine. As an escalation and client concerns manager I deal with this daily. I do not mind having to do this as part of my job, as I am quite good at it. Anything that I can successfully do at this point makes me incredibly happy. That being said, on days where everything continuously blows up in my face, it can be stressful. That has been the last month for me. Lucky, lucky me.

I don’t want to deal with any aspect of my life right now. I have the urge to just run away, and let someone else deal with it. To hide away from the world, and not even have anyone know who I am and what I am. I don’t want to take my meds, because I don’t want to have these illnesses. I don’t want to have to make the hard decisions. The little decisions. ANY decisions. It would be nice if I could get a break. One that happens not only because I am too ill to get out of bed. Though I appreciate the breaks from the running around of my children and life on those days, I would love a break on a good day. I would love to get out and just do things for me! On a good day! Instead I am at the point where my anxiety is high, and I want to run. Run away.

Lucky, lucky me.

“Ay Baby”: A Street Harassment Experiment

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Being a women brings challenges that no men can ever fully understand. However, men can control themselves. They can urge other men to do the same. The only way any bad, offensive behavior can stop is to take steps to stop it.

This woman was more brave than I, and I commend her for that.

Manifesta

by Alexis Wilkinson

I spent this past summer in one of my favorite places on Earth: New York City. To say I love New York would not only be a cliché, but an understatement. I do much more than love New York in some glib sense. I understand New York. I celebrate its joys and empathize with its plight. Working three jobs was a small price to pay for the privilege of running through the filthy, beautiful streets of NYC all day and all night for three months.

If my beloved New York has one fatal flaw, it is that the city has the most persistent, crass, and often truly frightening brand of street harassers I have ever encountered.

I have spent time in other cities. I have been whistled at, shouted at, and even grabbed by the shoulders. But never have these affronts to my personhood been so constant…

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