You’re Not Preferred..

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So here I sit. It is past 2am, I am in desperate need for a shower, and my mind is racing a million miles per hour.

My leg is almost healed, and though I am supposed to be going to physical therapy twice a week, I have yet to do so. I want to get my car back down to me (it is getting registered by my lovely mom right now since I work the hours to get it done) and then make the appointments. My ankle is still achy, and feels tight. My toes are half numb all the time, but apparently that is normal with this kind of break. Could take years to get the feeling back, if ever. I am still wearing my boot to work, but wear an athletic brace at home. I am still very inactive, and because of this I have gotten even FATTER! I am not really concerned about how I look right now, as I am more worried about getting my health back on track. I eat decently healthy most of the time, but am VERY inactive due to the illnesses/flares I have endured lately as well as the broken leg. I haven’t been this fat in over 10 years. SO strange to have my clothes not fit me again. To be the fat one waddling around the office. I am not really self conscious, because once again, I am more worried about other things. The time will come when I can be more active, and my useless piled on weight will start to fall off again. Now is not that time.. but I have been thinking a bit..

When I was thinner, just about 18 months ago, I actually looked pretty good. I was larger than I wanted by about 20 lbs, but I looked great for having 4 kids. I was then, as I am now, pretty confident in myself. There was only one problem: Him. Jeff. I remember feeling so good about myself, and often times very sexy. I would walk the halls at work, and know I was attractive. I would go home, let my hair down, wash my face and STILL feel so beautiful and attractive. Then the conversation would come up, and I would be reminded that he wanted me thinner. man-checking-out-other-woman He was interested in thinner women. I was LARGER than he preferred, “but he loved me anyway”. I have never understood the ‘love you anyway’ concept in a relationship. If you love someone, you love them how they are. You do not prefer a better version of them. Especially a version you have never seen, or maybe they have never been!! Knowing your sexual and emotional partner prefers someone who is smaller than you are, especially when going through health issues (I was two years into my dilemma) is incredibly hurtful. I remember standing in front of the mirror, tears streaming down my face, as I poked at the soft spots I knew he was referring to. I had given birth to, and fed 4 babies with my body. I was going through the worst pain and misery I had in my entire life with my health, and I wasn’t good enough in his eyes.

“I prefer…” – This can be such a crushing moment for anyone. Male or female. A woman tells a man she prefers men who are hairless; to her wolf like mate. “I prefer hairless men… but I love you anyway.” – This stands that there is STILL a preference, a BETTER version, if you will, of the person standing before them. “I prefer women with larger breasts… but I love you anyway.” – Here stands a crushed woman, knowing that he would much prefer her body be so different, instead of cherishing and loving every inch. We all have “preferences” of the kind of mate we go after, but if you are pursuing a person who does not fit your most wanted qualities, what are you doing? Now, that is not always the case. Sometimes someone is not your type, and yet you fall madly for them for the wonderful person they are. What then? Do you inform them of your preferences and let them know you “love them” despite them being somewhat unattractive to you? I know it is such a fine line to cross, but it is one that in a relationship you do not want to barge through. It has been over 15 months since we split, and here I am, still wounded knowing a man I was with did not accept my body as it was. Nor did the man before him post baby. I can’t help but to wonder what kind of men I get myself involved with that would be so unaccepting and unloving of such a beautiful thing as a mother’s body.

So here I sit, 2:30am on a Monday morning. I need to be up for work in 6 hours, and I still haven’t showered. Thinking on what my body means to me and to others. I look at my swollen belly, my oversized arms, and my “thunder thighs” and can’t help but to think what a mess they would think me to be. How judged I would be by those who I have shared my bed with. How they would likely scowl and make jokes of my current health problems.

art-SHE-fat-20130606193605324870-620x349 “She’s gotten so fat!”

“Wow! I really dodged a bullet there!”

“Ew! Look at that! Good thing I am not with her anymore! DAMN!”

“No wonder she is still single! GROSS!”

Once again, looking over my body, I can’t help to see what I am. A tough girl. A very, very tough woman. I am what I am right now, and I accept what I am. I prefer to look over myself and think:

“I live through this pain every day. My body carries a heavy weight right now, both physically and emotionally. My body is strong in all it’s weakness. I am amazing. I am beautiful. Each and every inch of me is perfect just as I am right now. One day at a time.”

I don’t look in the mirror and see my fat. The rolls on me even seem foreign and strange to me some days. What I see is beautiful me. I see a strong woman who is fighting with all that she has for herself, and her family. For her health and her love. Getting my life as collected as possible, all while fighting a painful and hard battle. I do not see someone who needs to change. I see what I am today made by my decisions thus far. I do not see someone who is unattractive and unwanted. I see a beautiful, strong woman who can take anything that is thrown her way! Anything that tries to knock her down is thwarted, and she rises. The pounds on the scale do not bother me like they did when I was with him. I weighed myself multiple times a week when we were together. I measured, sucked in, cried… sobbed even… and felt awful about myself almost daily. I was “not enough” – “not preferred” but tolerated. Waiting for me to change into the women he thought I should be, while I accepted him (Not gracefully, I must admit. I suck at relationships) just as he was. There was no “preferred” him I wanted. There was just… him. As much as he thought otherwise, I assume from his want for me to be different, I loved him as he was. Every inch, pound, hair, and big nose on him. Perhaps that is why his words of hurt have lingered for so long… but perhaps it is part of why I am what I am today. Why I can look in the mirror now and say, “Fuck that dude. You are awesome!” – And poke myself in my jiggly belly, because I know that tomorrow is another day, and everything about me today is perfect. Every flaw. Every stretch mark. Every little imperfection anyone else would see. I am me, and I am awesome.

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I got this…

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Clumsiness. Such a bad thing when it comes to people who are easily injured. I happen to be entirely clumsy, and often end up stepping on things, dropping things, and best of all… falling down. On Sunday while I was out to breakfast with Rain and my girls, I had a fight with a rock. No.. not a rock. A pebble. I am ashamed to say that I literally stepped on a small pebble, which took my down to my knees and caused a small tear in my left ankle ligament. How brilliant am I? It was not only painful, but so very embarrassing for me for Rain to have to come and help me up. I writhed in pain, and held back tears (which come on, I am SO used to pain I could hold back tears for days!) while we headed back to my house.

46-woman-wrapping-sprained-ankle-lgn-91242505 Rain had come over the night before, and we had a lovely evening. He came over a bit early so we could prevent as much “curiosity” peeking from the girls by him meeting them and hanging around for a bit. They adore him. This both makes me nervous, but is also comforting at the same time. I have had many friends, both male and female, who have come and spent quite a bit of time and then faded out. People come and go out of your lives, and though I have been so protective over my lovelies hearts, I feel at this point it is better for them to see that engaging with the opposite sex is not just for boyfriend/girlfriend situations. Rain and I have known each other for almost a month, so we are not even fully acquainted yet… though… we did get “acquainted” with each other that night. Quite acquainted. And it was fantastic.

During the drive home, Rain rolled down the windows to let some fresh air in because, though I was holding back tears, I was not doing such a good job at not breathing fast and heavy. The cool air felt great on my fingertips, and distracted me from my ankle. That was.. until he rolled them up. Without me noticing. Until it was too late! I was able to pull my hand in without scathing, except my poor little pinky finger. So here I am, ankle swelling and throbbing in pain, and now my pinky is bleeding. What a lovely end to a lovely date. The look on Rain’s face was nothing short of magical guilt. He insisted that he cancel all his plans and take care of the poor sick girl. I was quite tempted to just send him on his way, take care of myself, and wallow in self pity. While he was getting an icepack, getting my ankle propped up, and ensuring I was comfortable I considered the reasons to say no. Pride. That was it. Pride would prevent me from allowing him to take care of me. Guilt. The guilt of needing someone to take care of me, and being so very fragile at this point that it can be almost a requirement. I wanted to just sit on my couch and cry. I always feel so vulnerable and weak when these things happen to me. 200167732-002 I have always been a bit clumsy, and this is probably the 3rd time I have torn those same ligaments since I was a teenager, but I could take care of myself back then. I did not need someone to help me, because I could hop on one foot all I needed. Crutches didn’t ache in my armpits, and cause my hands to swell. My hips didn’t throb, and my whole body didn’t flare up. I knew I was going to end up fully exhausted, miserable, and in pain for the next few days simply because I was hurt. Why shouldn’t I let a caring, affectionate, worried man take care of me? No realistic reason. I reluctantly agreed, and hoped that it didn’t end up scaring him away. Chronic illness is serious, and having things shoved in your face can frighten anyone. Especially someone I barely know.

He took care of me. He kissed my face, played with my hair, and snuggled me. He listened to my body when it negatively reacted, and also when it positively reacted. He kept me safe from my over excited, crazy little minions; ensuring that they stayed away from my leg while I napped, but also teasing me about my law mower snore. RUDE! I didn’t know I snored so bad, but I am sure that it was the swelling of my insides in general from the injuries, not to mention the allergies of spring. He stayed for over 6 hours, doting to my every need and taking SUCH great care of me. When he left I was sad, but so pleased that he had been so good to me. He took an awful thing and turned my day back around. I am fond of Rain.

This week has also been rough. My body has been flaring due to the accident, and I have been so stressed. I had updates left and right with clients. Escalations all over the place, not to mention taking care of my own random client upsets. I was half awake, my mind has been working in slow motion, and my body was fighting itself off. By Tuesday afternoon I was so worn out that I accidentally double dosed myself on my mood stabilizer instead of my gabapentin. woman-medication-worried-200x300 In my defense, the bottles look almost identical and I was on the phone with a client. I was distracted, and I hurt myself. I only noticed about 10 minutes later when I went to reach for my inhaler and realized that my limictal bottle was at the top of my purse and not the gabapentin. Faaaaantastic. I quickly Googled the effects of what would happen at the dosage I had taken, and saw that I could quickly lose control of my cognitive function, as well as my hand eye coordination. I banged my head on my desk and considered my options. It was about 3:55pm, and I get off at 5. By that time I could have lost all control over my basic functions, and will likely not be able to drive, let alone walk. I kicked myself mentally over and over again for about 5 minutes, and then I left work. I informed my babysitter I was coming, and to have my girls ready. Let my boss know I had drugged myself, and would put myself in danger if I did not leave for home. I felt like such an idiot, but it was what it was, and I just need to remember that I rarely do that. I think this is only the 3rd time in 3 years. Not too bad of a track record, right?

Tuesday was my Rheumatologist appointment, and I was so scared! I was worried about the pain it would put me through, and the results he would find. I want him to find and help with every bit of me that is wrong, but I also don’t want to find something that is not fixable. I was also terrified that he would tell me I was crazy, and send me on my way. This did not happen at all, which was a huge relief. I would like to write a post that goes through my first appointment all on it’s own, so I am going to skip including it in this post. Let’s just say it was painful, but it also went well.

Today is Friday, and tonight I am spending the evening with my lovely Kindred Spirit, and her babies. I am so excited, I can barely contain it. She recently had a beautiful baby girl (about 3 months ago), and has two others. We have known my KS for about 6 years, and she is such a wonderful addition to my life. I wish I saw her more, but we are both full time working moms, I have my illness, and she has her new baby. We were pregnant together when I had my last minion, and our babies have been friends their whole lives. They hear each others names and go bizerk! She is coming with her lovely family, and a bottle of wine. We are all going to snuggle in front of the TV for my weekly ritual (over 4 years now) of movie night Friday and watch Frozen. The kids will pile up on each other on the blanket, my teenager will coo over baby P, while KS and I catch up and laugh the same way we always do. Sunday is Easter, and I get to spend the morning and afternoon with my babies, and then have a date with Rain while my kids go to their grandma’s. I am hoping this week brings nothing but happiness, and I am able to rest my poor body. I have many joyous things in my life right now. Many things to love and smile over. It was just a tough week… but I am a tough girl.

I got this.

What Kind of Life is That?

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Friendships are something that can make or break your day. Good friendships are hard to find, and REAL friendships are harder. Friendships with people who don’t hurt you, whether intentional or not, are almost impossible to find. I find myself questioning my friendship with those around me who have no understanding of where I come from. I was born and raised in a polygamist family, and I Have to admit that most rumors about polygamy are true. I have yet to want to get into the details, but I did not have the best childhood. I have large gaps in my memory, which I can only assume exist due to my brain deciding that it is best if I forget. Sure thing, brain! No argument there. Suppress away! 6a00d834520b4b69e201156e49b4b4970c I have entered into 5 relationships, 4 of which were terrible and abusive on one level or another. The 5th I am still trying to figure out how to recover from, and what to sort out. I am really good at getting myself into crappy situations, but on that note, I am also good at recognizing they are bad and getting out of them. It may take me a few years, but I got this! I have decided to look back at my failures and accomplishments as a slew of events that were to get me where I am now. Regrets? Of course. Trying to let go of those regrets? Absolutely.

Recently I have been examining my choice of friendships. There are some that have been around from the time I was child, a teenager, a young adult, and ones that are still fresh. I have found that my recently developed friendships are likely not as solid or “untainted” as I had thought. Someone I have trusted with secrets, pain, joy, etc has recently betrayed me, and I really have no urge to forgive them. Not that I am angry with them per say, however the idea that a person presents who they are as a friend to my face as one thing, and behind my back as another does little for my happiness and trust. If words against me are being used without my knowledge, words that I shared in confidence, I truly have no want to share such private things with them again. My past, present, and future personal privacy is not something I want broken. I am quite the open book, so when I choose to share something with you that I don’t share with others, you should probably keep that information in confidence.

I have so many things going on in my life right now, and adding distrust is not one that I would prefer to have. I am sure nobody does, but with all of the ailments (both medical and emotional) that I have I seem to feel an extra sting at the knowledge that bad words have been said about me. I do not consider myself a bad person, and though I have done many things wrong (and even cruel – I am only human) I am the first to admit my fault and pursue correction. healthy_gossip I do not break the trust of others. I do not use what they told me against them behind their back, however pretend that I am innocent. I do not feign friendship. So when this is done to me, I can’t help but step back and once again wonder what it is about me that made me so trusting of this one particular person. I have been fooled so many times by the charismatic and “seemingly” honest person, only to find they are cruel and truly the most dishonest of sorts. I guess it can play into the fact that I don’t understand this thought process. I will, however say, that I have chosen to keep my current feelings at bay and simply stop sharing the things that I would not share with the average person. I know that addressing this behavior will do nothing but harm, and it is not my place to try to change anyone. I will accept how they are, and move on. I accept that they will likely fade out of my life one day, and it won’t make much of a difference. I also accept that they may completely turn on me one day, so the less ammo I give them, the better. I can’t avoid them in my day to day life, so I will avoid the subject instead.

On an ending note, with all of the occurrences lately I find myself becoming more and more depressed. I am not one who likes to admit failure or defeat, so I tend to let things pile up so much that they start to weigh me down and I have a harder time recovering. This is such the case now. I am sad. I am incredibly unhappy, though there are things that still bring joy to my life. It is not joyless, I simply feel worn out, overwhelmed, and sad. My illnesses, the lack of support I see around me more and more, and the burdens I carry as a working single mother. I am not a ‘pity whore’, but my life is incredibly hard. It is the hardest thing I have ever had to do, and it is not showing any signs of improvement. The ailments that bring me woe ARE my life. It is what my life consists of every day. They say that happiness is not a situation, it is an attitude.. but I find it increasingly hard to find self motivation and keep a happy outlook when things are so exhausting. When life it so exhausting. When what I deal with on a daily basis would be incredibly hard for a healthy person of my age, let alone someone with my illnesses. When I realize that those around me I thought believed and supported me.. doubt and belittle me behind my back.

What kind of life is that?

You Should…

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“That’s still going on?”

“Have you tried…?”

“Have you seen a Dr?”

“You should talk to your Dr about that.”

When you have a chronic illness, you have heard these remarks, and they get old fast. We have all held our tongues; smiled, nodded, and agreed. Even thanked people for their help and input. None of these are helpful in the slightest, as I know my body, and when things are wrong I will go see my Dr. A low grade fever for three days is not a Doctorable offense. New liquid filled cysts, and lumps in uncomfortable places is not something to rush to the nearest ER about. Ever woken up in a pool of your own blood? I sure have, and did I rush off to my Dr? No. Because the color, consistency, and amount did not qualify as something that I personally need to rush off and spend my hard earned money on another, “Just keep taking your meds, and try not to push yourself that hard again. If the bleeding blah blah blah blah!” Heard it all.

This has been another rough week for me, as I am sure you could have guessed by my last blog post. I have run fevers, thrown up, bled from every possible orifice that can bleed without threatening death, and woke up in so much pain, it took all my might not to scream at the top of my lungs. I have left epsom salt bath water black, had less than 20 hours sleep in the last 6 days, and have been popping pain meds left and right. massage-picture-fibro I called in an emergency 90 minute massage due to my muscles being SO tight, I could barely turn my head. I was an hour late to a date, which did not go so well. (He was religious, had no kids and wanted some. I am none of the above.) I have been late to work every day this week. Missed appointments. Forgotten about trainings. Etc. I can’t help but feel like such a failure some weeks, and though I am STILL going strong, I do feel a bit like a failure.

This week I got into the worst fight I have ever had with any of my siblings. My sister, who we will refer to as Delusional Hippy, got on my very last nerve. She has been poking at me for awhile, and I finally had enough. The worst part is that she doesn’t realize she is doing it. She comments on my photos, statuses, and other such social media outlets with such cruel implications hidden in innocent text. She recently implied that in order for me not to end up alone I need to lower my expectations and standards for a potential spouse. Also, there is a possibility that I will never find someone and will end up alone. She told me I needed to be ok with the possibility that there isn’t someone out there for me. O_o She said, “You seem to think you are incomplete without a man.” – Now, keep in mind that this is my sister who is married to a convicted felon who used to harass me about having sex with him. He pursued me for about 8 years, starting when I was about 13. Not a big fan of this man. He is currently in prison for the 3rd time. DH has not dated much, and is often described as ‘homely’. I am not going to toot my own horn, but even with the extra weight, skin problems, and chronic illnesses, I am still quite the looker. It is hard for me to even fathom that there isn’t someone out there who wants what I want. There is nothing wrong with wanting a family, and that doesn’t make me desperate or incomplete. I have a goal of sharing the love I have, and making a life for me and my girls. My sister and I had a blowout. With-physical-pain-you-can-pinpoint-a-problem-and-seek-the-appropriate-treatment-as-with-a-wound-or-a-broken-bone-but-it-is-vastly-more-difficult-to-pinpoint-the-cause-of-emotional-pain. I blocked her on 3 facebook accounts before she went to texting. One thing anyone who knows me understands is that if I want to be left alone, you back off. You let me be. She knew this, and pushed me to my brink. I snapped, and I tore into her like there was no tomorrow. It did not go well, and I have been sick ever since. Extra sick.

People tend to forget that emotional turmoil is also going to have a negative effect for the chronically ill. Stress causes so much pain, it is ridiculous. I broke out with 17 cysts, ranging from the size of a pea to silver dollar. Arm pits, face, neck, legs, etc. They are everywhere. Here I am emotionally and physically ill over something as silly as me being alone and sad. Being judged by a woman who is neglectful of her children, and needs of everyone but herself and her husband. She is inconsiderate, and rude, however I have always brushed it off as her personality. She is who she is and you take it with a grain of salt. I have always loved and supporter her in all her decisions. Want to marry a felon I am not really fond of? Ok. Still love you, keeping my mouth shut. If he makes you happy, and you are confident in your decision, who am I to tell you otherwise? Want to ignore the fact that your children only snack all day, every day and do not have a full nutritional diet at home? Ok. I expressed my concerns, she brushed them off. I watch my niece and nephews, and make sure they are properly dressed for the weather and eat when at my house. She is not physically abusive, and her children love her. I will express my concerns when they seem applicable, otherwise I will respect her parenting ways. It is not my direct business, and she is allowed to run her home as she pleases, just as I am. But when you step in and tell me that because of my VALUES, and my STANDARDS, I am going to be alone. As if someone of that caliber would never have interest in someone like me. How dare you?

“You are always sick. You seem sad.” – Of course I am sad! Being sick is sad!

article-2218035-1583EAED000005DC-685_634x423 “You know that a man won’t fix your illness.” – I am aware of this. Nothing can ‘fix’ my illness. But I want to share what I can with someone, and show my girls that love can blossom out of the worst of situations. Also, I think that it would be a lot easier to make it up my stairs when I am super sick if I had some nice big arms assisting me in my journey.

“You need to understand that marriage has ups and downs. It’s not all good.” – What. In. The. Good. Hell? Are you kidding me? Please.. just… I am not even going to address this one, as this is just a joke that as a divorced 29 yr old woman who has been in MORE of a married relationship in the last 2 years with a man I never lived with than she has.

So, here I am…. sick, tired, and getting unwanted advice on not only my health, but also my love life. Basically feeling like those around me feel I am unable to properly determine when I need to see a Dr, or how to care for my own broken body. Nor am I capable of creating a happy marriage one day because I have high standards, and I am too sick to expect someone of that caliber to be interested in me. Perhaps I should lower my expectations and marry a felon. Seems like someone like that might ACTUALLY be interested in me, and fill that empty part of me that is ‘incomplete without a man’. Because, you know.. I am not complete without a penis, but I should probably accept that it is likely I will never find one that will put up with my shitty life.

Umm.. I may or may not be bitter this week, and angry. Sitting at the front desk in such pain I am thinking it would be better to be numb from the neck down. My head is throbbing on the right side, vision is blurry, and my right index finger is swelling. I am not sure if the emotions caused the flare, or the flare caused the emotions, but either way it is shitty. Either way this week was awful. I can’t take the pain meds that would kill this pain, as they will knock me out. I am beat, and I have an entirely full weekend ahead of me. This is not a good mix…

I apologize for this blog. It is crazy, all over the place, but I needed to vent. Thank you for not judging the crap out of me.

Four Pounds

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Over the last two days I have been on mostly liquids, diuretics, laxatives, and pain meds. This sounds extreme.. because it is. The blockage and irritation inside my intestines is just exacerbating the issues and pain associated with the cyst on my ovary, and we are doing what we can to clear it all out and relieve some pressure. So, needless to say.. I have been miserable. The amount of time I have spent in the bathroom is far more than I would ever like to spend there, especially while at work. I have been through worse than this before, but generally I do it at home. Since I have bills to pay, including but not limited to my medical bills, I have to go to work and push through it (no pun intended). It is not exactly fun to be running back and forth from the toilet at your place of work. Luckily I am well enough acquainted with all of my female coworkers that it’s not a huge deal for them to walk in and deal with me. In fact, oft times they offer to help me in any way possible. Get me some water, or something else I need. I am actually pretty lucky to have people who care for me in my place of work.

This morning when I woke up, I decided to see what two days of liquids and misery had done to my weight. We are trying to decrease the inflammation, and increase the flow of natural function. I hopped on the scale and took a look. Wait.. what? I hopped OFF the scale, let it reset, and stepped back on. r-GLOBAL-FAT-SCALE-large570 No. There is no way I GAINED four pounds in two days! What the hell? I know that when you are “starving” your body goes into survival mode, and stores everything that you take in. However, I know that I have not even taken in four pounds of anything, so seeing that I had gained that much frustrated me. Don’t get me wrong, I am more worried about getting this cyst to shrink or burst, and less worried about my weight, however I am so annoyed that even going through suffering like I am, I am still gaining weight. Over 50 lbs so far this year, and for what reason? I eat healthier than most people I know. I don’t eat gluten, I drink a lot of water, and I LOVE my fruits and veggies. I take in little dairy, and I eat meat maybe once a week. If that! I can’t help but be at least a little annoyed. I know we have taken me off the plaquenil, which may have been part of the reason I gained so much, and decreased another medication to only half dose.. but why do I keep gaining?

Each and every day that I have to face, there are more and more things to be sad about. Four pounds of weight on top of the weight I have already gained is just icing on the cake. I noticed some new stretch marks on my breasts today, which is no surprise. They have also almost doubled in size, and my clothes are getting smaller and smaller on me. I look in the mirror, and I barely recognize this body I am in. This wilting, bloated, fluctuating body that I have lived in for so long, but barely even know it anymore. I often forget what I look like on the outside during my day to day activities. I remember me how I feel on the inside, and passing mirrors or reflective windows pulls me out of the self image I keep in my head. I am often told how beautiful I am. Hot. “Bangable”. I got that one today.. but I just don’t believe it. I am covered in sore. There are small cysts growing under my skin on my neck, and face. I have 80 lbs of extra weight sitting on my bones. I just can’t look at myself and say, “You are everything you should and can be.” – I know what lies under what others see, and I wish I could show them what I know I am under this.. mask of a person I am. I have a lovely shape. My smile can radiate for miles! When I walk, heads turn and doors open. Tabs get paid, chairs get pulled out, and boyfriends get slapped. Men remember their fetish for redheads, and my eyes pierce through the toughest of shells. I know I am in there.. I know under these four pounds, upon four pounds, and MORE pounds.. I am still in there. I may be sick, weak, fat, and blistered right now but one day.. One day I will be me again. Right? I will be me?

Will I be me again?

Every Minute of Every Day

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For each and every man I have dated, interacted with, slept with, or whatever other form of contact, my coworker/friends have had nicknames for them. From “David Beckahm” down to “Has all his teeth”. We come up with the most random things to label each and every one of them. I have probably interacted with (on some level) at least 15 men over the last 4 months. I have been actively trying to keep my mind occupied with the opposite sex so that I don’t think of a certain someone. The conclusion? It doesn’t work.

As much pain as I am in on a daily basis, today being one of the days it is pretty bad, though I am working regardless, I can’t keep my mind occupied long enough to not think of him every day. Every fucking day. The more pain I am in, the more I long for him. My heart aches, and I can feel tears well up in my eyes. All I want is to climb into his lap, smell his scent, and his warm hand on my head. head-in-his-hands I want to hear his voice tell me that it is ok, and call me baby. The only conclusion I can come to is that I am insane. That the pain I feel physically is attached emotionally to him since I was with him when I initially became ill. He has been the only one who was able to comfort me to the point of me feeling at least remotely ok. During the last bit, we were so emotionally off base, it caused my physical pain to skyrocket, and my heart, body, and entire being to just burst with pain. I have no idea what I am going to do with myself, but I know it is getting to the point where I am just going to give up on trying to heal my self destructed broken heart. I did this to myself. I am not sure I am ever going to fully heal from this, or if I will ever find someone who can make me feel at least partially ok with losing Jeff. Losing.. well.. removing him forcefully from my life.

Today my head is throbbing. My feet are killing me. I have a blanket folded and placed under my elbows just so I can sit at my desk and work. I have been forcing myself to ignore the pain, and just focus on my work. I have to get up every 20 minutes or so and walk around, or my legs become numb. My head is a whirl with thoughts, and each one leads back to him. I am going to see a movie with my sister tonight, and I know I will enjoy it. She is going to be driving, so I am comfortable taking some pain medication before we leave. I am longing for the two hour distraction that 3D Gravity in IMAX is going to bring me. Anything that will keep my mind off of him is a saving grace. Talking to my coworkers, distracting myself with as much work as I can handle. ANYTHING to keep my emotions intact, and prevent the total sobbing break down I wish I could fall into right now. Over my pain. My illness. My lost love.

Today one of my close coworkers looked me straight in the eyes and asked if I missed him. I knew she would know if I lied so my response was, “Every minute of every day.” End of conversation.

I am crazy.

Pity Party For One

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Warning: I am going to share too much personal bodily function information in this blog.. so.. read at your own risk.

Today I am having a pity party for one. It is like a college frat party; vomiting, blood, disorientation. Everything but binge drinking and sex. Right now I am sitting in my living room watching “Orange is The New Black” and recovering from my most recent trip to the bathroom. Two nights ago I let a friend of mine cook me dinner, and take me to a movie. It was quite good! I checked the labels before he seasoned the steak. I double checked the labels of the sauces, of the dressings, of every last thing I ate! Yet, low and behold.. here I am. Day two of everything I eat coming out both ends. Gross, but true. I don’t have the heart to tell him, so he has no idea that he is the reason I am so sick. So I am having a pity party for one.

knee-pain-329x390Tuesday afternoon I went to see my Orthopedic surgeon. He let me know that there was quite a bit of damage behind both of my knee caps, and gave me a shot of cortisone in each. I can’t really describe the feeling of pressure and burning inside my knees that stemmed from these shots. I am in constant pain from the RA that I suffer from each day, which I treat with a variation of pain killers and anti inflammatory medication. Since I was aware that I would be driving, I decided that I shouldn’t take my medication, and would take it later. Long story short: Those shots hurt like fucking hell. I can barely walk, though the general pain has let up, the new pressure and discomfort (because so new) almost feels worse. So I am throwing a pity party for one.

Now here I sit.. knees full of cortisone, intense pressure, vomiting, diarrhea, full body aches, etc. Every time I vomit, my nose bleeds. Every time I use the toilet, it burns and I bleed. My food is coming out both ends. Blood coming out both ends. I am alone in my destroyed house, having a pity party for one. I am exhausted, sore, sick.. and bleeding. The weather has changed, and this causes my body to ache, due to irritating my RA. I accidentally ingested gluten, which caused horrible intestinal pain, and an RA flare up. The irritation and pain has raised my blood pressure, causing additional bleeding from my nose and my ass. I am due to start my period in the next few days, which is also exacerbating my intestinal pain, and will be more bleeding. So I am throwing a pity party for one.

4638308180_ea772ba8e0_mA pity party for one under the blanket my daughter was given during one of her many surgeries at Shiner’s Hospital. I am going to assume that due to the blood loss, and my body trying to keep up with everything going on inside is why I am freezing. My toes are cold, my fingers are numb, and I can’t keep from shaking. It has taken me over an hour to write this blog. Not due to a lack of knowing what to write, but because I have to physically stop typing and rest every minute or so. I have had to get up twice to express food and bleed.

So I am throwing a pity party for one.