Tomorrow

Tomorrow is my surgery. 

Goodbye asshole gallbladder. Goodbye random food intolerances. Goodbye constant vile bile. I’m so sick of this sickness! I can go back to being my normal level of me sick. 

I just want this awful organ out of my body. One more day. Less than 24 hours of this disgusting mess left. Thank bloody hell. 

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Comfortably Numb

I forgot what it’s like to be fully sober. 

To wake up with zero pain medication. One hundred percent in my body, suffering the aches and pains in my fully sober and untreated self. It’s agony. 

I threw my back out yesterday, and I have have been in intense pain ever since. I took my last pain pill the day before, on a Sunday, not realizing the Monday was a holiday, my pain prescription was out of refills and I’d have to wait until Tuesday for the Drs to be back in office to get a new prescription. This on top of my regular agony, and my 7 week extra pain recently discovered to be a stone filed gallbladder. Swollen, irritated to the max and ready to come out! My consult is at noon today with my general surgeon to schedule to surgery, but I’m in agonizing pain. 

I’m past my threshold. Every joint in my body is aching, grinding, and every inch of my skin is needles and fire. I can hear it in my head when I move my eyes, and my ears drums are so swollen, it hurts to hear the children playing outside my window. A sound I typically adore. 

It’s 8:33am. I barely slept last night, even with 150mg of trazadone in my system. The pain was too much for my body to take. It was far too much to sleep through. I’m used to the pain. The agony. The utter endless discomfort and pain. But expecting me to sleep through a gallbladder of this severity of needing to be removed, and my back in this amount of turmoil… On top of all my typical agony? With only anti-inflammatory and topir? I think not.

I just want to be comfortably numb. 

I Need To Rest

Waking up so sick, hitting the bathroom, back to bed. Sleep. 

Waking up from the sickness. Bathroom. Bed. Sleep. 

Sickness. Bathroom. Bed. Sleep. 

That’s been my last two days. 

Right now I’m awake in bed. The first time in nearly 24 hours. My stomach is turning, my head is killing me. My body aches from all the gut churning sickness. I don’t have the stored energy for this. I’m so tired of being so fragile. 

My thyroid is swollen, and it’s hard to swallow. My stomach is so sensitive, even water makes it churn and growl. My digestive system seems hell bent on ridding itself of everything I’ve ever eaten in my 32 years of life. My entire body aches from the sickness, and I’m positive I’m not even close to fully ingesting my medications, if at all. But I’m still trying to take them as usual. When I can get myself to wake up to the alarms. 

I’ve woken multiple times to my own body expelling its waste, and having no control over my own bodily functions. I’ve not felt this helpless in months. I have not been this ill in so long. I hope it passes soon.

I am lucky to have love and support, or I wouldn’t get through this. It’s hell. I am a mess of a human. So much going on, and so much ahead of me. My body is going through too much, and my mind even more. 

I need to rest. 

Tests… And More Tests

Tests. So many tests. 

Phone calls. More and more phone calls. 

Drs. Nurses. Counselors and social workers who offer support during hardships like this. I declined. So far there is only speculation and “abnormal test results”. 

The first biopsy is soon. September 6th. I’m not scared, yet at the same time I am terrified. Nothing I can do to change the results. I’ll simply have to accept them as they are. 

Hope for the very best. Prepare for the very worst. In all my posi-pesi fashion. 

This first biopsy isn’t even of the breast tissue. That’s taking a backseat to the possible cancerous tissue in my vaginal wall. I’m sure it’s nothing… Just more tests. 

Tests on top of tests on top of tests. 

I’m so tired.

Lumps

Lumps… Not one, but two. Left side.

Hopefully it’s just fibrocystic breast disease.

I can’t sleep. My mammography ultrasound is tomorrow afternoon. Well, technically today. 2:40pm. Less than 12hrs away.

I’m tired of this. I’m tired of new symptoms. New things inside my body going wrong.

I’m tired of lumps.

One Step Closer

I’m going in for an ultrasound of my thyroid. My Dr said that the chances are very high that it’s something serious, based on my symptoms and my family history. 

Did some bloodwork. Met with a counselor before even leaving the Dr’s office to talk about dealing with being diagnosed with serious illnesses/diseases and dealing with that. 

One step at a time though. Just one step… If it’s cancer, I can beat it, right? If it’s hashimotos, I can live with it, right? Hypothyroidism is nothing! I’m totally good with that. 
One step… I’m overwhelmed, but I’ll be ok. I got this. I always make it out ok. I’m always one step closer to my death, but I manage. I survive. I keep it together. 

Allergic To Everything

I’ve been so sick lately, I wish I knew what to do to fix it. 

I’m trying to treat this like I would a gluten reaction, as in pretty sure it’s a reaction to dairy, based on my symptoms, but it’s been almost two weeks and I’m still hurting pretty bad. My lower abdomen is swollen and bloated. My body aches all over. I can’t settle my digestive tract at all. From my stomach to my intestines, it’s gurgling non stop, nearly 24 hours a day. It feels like I’ve been violated anally over and over, I’m so sore. 

My head is now shaved on one side, to relieve pressure and pain from the trigeminal nerve, but the last few days the swelling and pain has been awful. My gums on the right side are also very swollen along with the trigeminal nerve, and I can taste blood. It’s been so awful. I can barely eat, and I can’t shit upright for more than about 20 minutes without feeling lightheaded and exhausted. It’s been such misery. 

I hate feeling so useless. It’s so awful, and so hurtful. I feel like such a lump of a human when I’m like this. I am emotional and physically weak. I just want to get up and go! I want to get out of bed and help! Sit upstairs and at least enjoy the children playing. Kids being funny. The adorable little dances my friend’s daughter does. I’m missing life so much right now. Instead I’m stuck in my bed, and after nearly 14 days with only a few times up and out, I’m feeling so useless. 

I can barely consume anything that’s solid. No dairy. Obviously no gluten. I’m hungry! I’m sad. I’m a bit angry. I’m lonely, but I don’t want company in this state. Rushing to the bathroom multiple times a day. My stomach rejecting anything and everything I consume. Soup. Jello. Whatever. It’s been so hard on my frail body. I’ve dropped 9lbs in the last week alone. I wish I could lose weight the healthy way, and not because my body is freaking out. 

I just want to get healthier. I simply want life to improve for me. I can’t help but wonder if this is partially emotional. I saw Jeremiah just a day before all this began. The upset stomach. The weakness. I’m sure it has very little to add to my condition, but a broken heart has literally killed people in the past. I’m much stronger, and I’m pushing myself through this, but seeing him really hurts me. It causes so much to happen inside me, and I wish I had better control. 

At this point I only have myself to blame for what happens in his presence. I should be long past this by now. It’s August of 2017, and things ended between us in December of 2016. At this point I’ve been hitting longer than we were even a thing. All I know is that man crept inside my heart and soul like none other has, and I’ve yet to be rid of him. As much as I have tried, I still have very loving feelings for him. They must have attached to my long standing friendly feelings, which I have a hard time getting rid of for anyone. I have no idea how to rid myself of the gut wrenching, soul piercing, heart breaking feelings I get from him. I have never had to do this before. Even just typing this out is making my head, my heart, and my stomach hurt. 

My throat is on fire. Tears stream down my face. My stomach is turning, and gurgling. It hurts in every capacity to think about it. My emotions are on high from being this ill. That must be it, and not the other way around, right? I have wasted far too many moments on the subject of Jeremiah Raynor. I’m aware he does not feel the same for me, as much as it would be something to my heart and soul if he did. I have no idea what I would do; likely nothing. He’s in a relationship with the mother of his child, and she’s due in only a few short months. I’m positive he wants more children long term, and I can’t provide this to him. I’m not enough, and he made that very clear last December. 

I need to focus on my health. In my mental and physical happiness. My body is improving, my general health, up until now, was improving, and I feel is improving and will continue to do so. My emotional stability is vastly different, and has improved so much over the years. I’ve had moments of great sadness, but they are few and far between. It’s been a relief to be able to have a clearer mind, and general better self. My stress is still high, but I handle it day to day. Overall my life, situation, and well being is improving. 

I need to just keep moving. I can’t ignore these feelings I have, they’d be just as bad as ignoring my symptoms. I need to address them and work through them. I think that’s what’s been holding me back. I’ve been ignoring my deep love for Miah, and not accepting, viewing it as something I have and can leave behind, and moving on. I should remember the things I love, and accept that it’s ok I have those feelings, and that I am going to be without him in my life. That he and I are not ok, and he prefers it that way as well. 

Much like my what I can and can’t have in my life art this time, or what I can and can’t have in my diet. As silly as that sounds. I love gluten and dairy, but it is bad for me. It causes my entire body to swell, and get upset. It hurts me over and over. It causes me to be bedridden, and sick.

Am I comparing love to gluten? 

Haha! Apparently that’s where I’m at in life. Love is like gluten and dairy. I’m allergic to it. And not all love, mind you. Just his love.. Just him. Just being around him while he’s at this point in his life and I’m at this point in mine. Maybe one day we can be friends again. That would be lovely. I’d really like that. One day when seeing him doesn’t rip me apart. When my guts don’t churn and my stomach doesn’t turn inside out. When I don’t feel like dying every time his beautiful blue eyes look at me with that sad, yet yearning look. I don’t even know what to think of it. Maybe one day when his girlfriend doesn’t hover over him, and look at me with that stern face, all while trying to make small talk. “I don’t want to talk to you, lady. You stole my love from me, and you don’t even appreciate him. Back off before I bite your face off with my artillery of words.”  Maybe one day when I’m not this sick. This sick of everything and nearly everyone. Including you two. I’ll be happy for you two being together one day. I am very excited for that baby, though. Miah.. a daddy. I know he’s both elated and terrified. But I’m so sick of heading about it. So…

Maybe one day when I’m not allergic to what feels like everything under the sun. Including my love for you, J. Or your love for me? That’s long gone though, isn’t it? 

I Wish I Knew

I was jerked awake at 3:45am. My heart heavy, and tears in my eyes before I even opened them. I don’t know what I was dreaming. 

My body is howling with agony, and I’m miserable from having eaten dairy. Am I lactose intolerant? Not typically, but I have multiple autoimmune diseases, and if you know anything about the body and such ailments, you know it’s possible to develop new allergies at any time. I have celiac, and I’ve had issues with dairy in the past. We’ll have to see what happens after I clear my system and feel better. I’ll try adding it back to my diet and see how I react. 
However that’s not what jerked me awake. My heart has been heavy all evening, even before I fell asleep. I have no idea what I was dreaming, and why I’m wide awake, broken hearted, tears on my face and pillow. Sometimes emotions just come at the most inopportune times. 

I saw him on Sunday; the one who broke my heart. It was hard. He looked so very stressed out and unhappy. I wanted to wrap my arms around him and comfort him. Kiss his face and tell him everything was going to be ok. Rub his neck, like I used to. Hold him close and just comfort his stressed soul. I also couldn’t look him in the eye. I couldn’t be close to him. I wanted to run away the second he got there, but my children were stalling, and taking forever to gather their belongings. 

I saw him at his sister’s house. A woman I adore so very much. One of my lifelong best friends. Oh my heart hurts even more just thinking about the encounter. I’m stressed from the sight of his pregnant girlfriend. They were there to pick up furniture from my dear friend for their new apartment. I am so proud of him for the distance he’s come in such a short time, and I truly hope for nothing but happiness for him. I simply wish my eyes did not have to lay upon the two of them together. 

She seems so territorial, which is silly, because he and I do not speak. Because I have asked him to stay out of my life, and he has barely even spoken to me. He has been an oddly watchful eye here and there, and I’m unsure why he’s done such, after what he did to me, but I’m sure her territorial ways are unjust. She stares at me with an odd look on her face which makes me extra uncomfortable. I’m unsure of what Jeremiah has said of me, but perhaps that’s the reason for her look. Or perhaps that’s just her face. 

Either way, I did not enjoy the encounter. It was uncomfortable, awkward, and could have been avoided. He knew I was there. He was told I was going to be there. That we were there for the weekend. I was told he was coming that day, but expected later than he arrived. Why on earth did he arrive so early? A once always late to the party boy now an hour and a half early to pick up furniture? Hmm. 

Either way, I needed out. Either way, my head hurt all day from the encounter. Migraine City for days afterward. It was awful. I can’t control my emotions when it comes to this man, and I hate myself for it. I try to laugh it off, and I can’t. I try to reason with myself, and can’t! I try to sooth myself, and simply can’t. There is no cure for a break in my heart this big, and each time I see him it rips me wide open again. I need to not see him, and yet I long for him. The contradictions that are my feelings at this point are just painfully comical. Rousing torture. I want to move on. There must be someone out there who can help me feel distracted. 

I had someone distracting me for months. He was kind, and sexy. However over time he became awkward and his behavior changed one day. Upon inquiry on his mistreatment of me, he suggested we part ways. He implied he’s no good at dealing with his emotions, and emotional attachments. That he is not good at expressing himself, and he’s not ready for a relationship. Hmm… Another full grown man who became attached to me and got terrified. However instead of dealing with it, manning up and giving it a chance, he runs. That’s fine. I was not hurt because I had not yet become as emotionally attached to him, which was likely sensed, and why he was so scared of his feelings. They were not reciprocal. I’m sorry, Kevin. 

I do want to find a mutual love. I simply don’t know if that’s possible while I’m still waking up in the middle of the night, tears in my eyes, Jeremiah on my mind, and a broken heart. I am trying so hard. However I am fully aware that the anniversary of when we first started hanging it is coming up soon, and it’s heavy upon me. 

Last week a memory came up in my Facebook memories that shook me. I hadn’t recalled posting it, but it hurt like hell to see it. It went something to the effect of, “Something big is coming. I don’t know what it is, but it’s going to change me forever.” I have no idea what was going on that day, as I don’t even recall posting, but I obviously felt him coming. 

It was the last week of July he messaged me, telling me he was home. Telling me I was beautiful. Asking me for my company. So awkward, and I rejected his inquiries many times. I had never EVER looked at him in that fashion! I’m not like that. Not at all. But he won me over by August. And thus began a journey that would change me forever… I felt it coming. I wish I knew what he would mean to me. I would have changed so many things. 

Proverbial Fuckery

I think the worst part about suicidal thoughts is the guilt. I feel so guilty for even having them. Like such a hypocrite. I am always trying to stay so positive and upbeat, trying to keep my head up on even the worst days. So when I just have a break down and can’t handle it, and the thoughts start flowing in about how I can’t handle this anymore. The anxiety starts to take over… and I just want to end it… that’s when the guilt kicks in. 

It hits me like a ton of bricks as well. Like I’m such a bad person for being so fake and acting so happy all the time. Like I’m just such a fucking mess and I should just be that mess. However I know if I do that, I will fall into a deep depression again and actually kill myself. I’ve done it before, barely made out, because my mom found me, and took me to the ER for an overdose. I was in a coma for two days. From a Sunday evening to that Tuesday afternoon. I was sick for weeks! 

I’m a mother. A damn good one. But my mother doesn’t think so. She made that vey clear tonight when we were arguing about my teenage daughter and what she’s doing with her life. My mom made it clear tonight that she sees me as a very unfit parent. She’s made comments in the past about giving up my children to the foster care system because I’m so sick and can’t work, and someone else can take care of them. She thinks they need a mother who can cook and clean for them. My girls are 17, 10, and 7. We also live in an apartment inside a huge house where I live with friends who cook for me and my girls. 

My mom doesn’t agree with my lifestyle. She’s made that very clear. My oldest daughter makes me out to be an evil witch to everyone. She makes me out to be a drunken slut, apparently. Someone who only screams, sits around and then goes and has sex with random strangers. 

This couldn’t be farther from the truth.

It’s such an ugly time in my life, and I really don’t want to be in it. I’ve come a long way from where I’ve been, but I feel like my life will always be a painful shit show. That I’ll always be pushing  facade of happiness, and finding things to be happy about. Sweet tea. Coffee. My favorite slippers. I choose to be happy. I make myself happy. I ignore as much of my unhappiness as possible everyday. I focus on things that make me smile. Like the sunsets. The giggles of adorable little goofy kids. The smell of rain. Not the feel, because it kills me when it rains. 

Tonight I feel so betrayed by my family and I am suicidal. I know I won’t take action, but my anxiety is crazy high. I’m in an intense amount of physical and emotional pain. My mother basically told me what a terrible mother I am, though I’ve never done the same to her.

She raised us in a polygamist environment, but not only that, it was a highly abusive one. My father was very physically abusive, grabbing at arms, legs, hair, whatever he could when he was upset. Slapping, spanking, whipping, you name it. Belts, spoons, spatulas, sticks, anything he could hit us with. Hours standing in corners. A dozen or more of us lined up in a row to get our hands beat because someone stole and nobody would admit it. My step mother was even worse. This all just before the age of 7, and I haven’t even mentioned the sexual abuse I endured that began before I could talk. 

Her second marriage to another polygamist family that made her a second wife again, which occurred when I was only 12 included a plethora of babysitting children (including a severely handicapped sister), doing endless chores, and living with disgusting charges pedophiles. They seemed to think it was quite alright to touch, poke, and peek in on me whenever they saw fit. When I defended myself against an attempted sexual assault, I was punished and made to stay home from any activities for months! Which included my birthday, while my attacker was able to roam free, and even attended  church dance on my 13th birthday. 

But yet, I’ve never stood in front of my mother and blamed my long standing issues from all my trauma on her directly. I have never stomped my foot and demanded she make right all the wrongs in my life! Fix everything she messed up! That she was to blame for every bad thing and every fault in my stars. 

Yet here she is… taking sides with my teenage daughter, blaming me for my daughter’s depression and bad attitude. Regardless of the fact that I’ve worked so hard to provide a good environment despite my downfalls. Despite our struggles. Despite everything that’s gone wrong in our life.

I have now been diagnosed with a plethora of medical ailments, as well as cptsd. Rheumatoid arthritis, osteoarthritis, hemicrania continua, degenerative disc disease, multiple schmorls nodes in my spine, a herniated disc in my lumbar, spinal nodules, cervical spinal fractures, gerd, severe ibs, celiac disease, fibromyalgia, as well as other issues. 

My entire life right now feels like a shit show. Like I’m going to suffer every damn day, forever. Like life is just going to continue to proverbially fuck me while I admire the sunsets, and drink my sweet tea… And pretend everything is ok. When it’s really REALLY just not.

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