probing

Warning:  may be TMI for some readers

As a young girl, I remember adding up how many times I had had my period.  “Oh my, this is my 7^th time having my period!”  “Wow, twenty times I’ve had my period.”  When I was young, I looked at my period as something exciting, that bridge to ‘womanhood,’ whatever that meant at the time.  Twenty-six years later, I have come to loathe that special relative, Aunt Flo.  It amazes me as I look back on how I felt about menstruating over the years:

• This period business is exciting stuff!
• Even practicing safe sex, the arrival of the red beast always meant I was not pregnant.  (YAY!)
• F&*K!  My period showed up.  Meaning I wasn’t pregnant.  (Boo!)
• Menstruation is a nasty part of a woman’s life.  Men can suck it!
• Seriously?  Does my fucking uterus hate me?  

It makes me chuckle to recall the excitement, the ups & downs, and even the despised feeling I have now.   So, why the title “Probing?”   It’s something my vagina knows a bit too much about, in my opinion. 

I’ve always had heavy period with major cramping.  About three years ago, I had an IUD put in.  The majority of women with this form of birth control end up not having a period.  Of course, I do not fall in that category.  I have always had my period and within the last year, it has gotten worse.  At this point, I have my period more than I don’t each month.  As in more than half the month I have to wear some form of panty protection.  After talking with the doctor about it again, we decided to have an ultrasound for a look-see.  I’ve had cysts on my ovaries before and who knew what was going on in there.

U/S day:  I drink my 300oz of water, but when I arrive at the appointment I do not have that full feeling in my bladder nor do I have to pee.  So, after the tech begins she stops and has me drink more water.  Fifteen minutes later, my bladder is finally protesting all the liquid and I am getting my outer lady bits pushed on with that lovely gel and rolling probe.  Which always reminds me of roll-on deodorant.  Sorry, off track there for a minute.  I know as she’s whipping through the screen shots that I will most likely be having an internal u/s as well.  And within minutes, she shares that the “outer part of the u/s is done, but she will have to conduct an internal u/s as well.”  Big surprise.   So, I scoot my ass up onto this triangle thing so my vagina and other lady bits are at optimal viewing and  out comes the long white probe at which point I am asked if I want to insert it myself.  Really?  Can I get a few minutes to myself too?  My response is this “I told them at work I was going to get probed.”  Yes, I said that.  And was instantly mortified.  Thankfully, the tech is cool and laughs with me.  The probe is inserted and my parts start to get an up-close and personal viewing.  Then my bladder fills again and I have to use the restroom again.  And have the probe re-inserted.    Finally we finish and I get to head back to the restroom to pee (again).  I love that you are given nothing to wipe yourself with except for the rough paper towel in the bathroom.  I always use the paper sheet they give you as it’s a bit softer.  She walks me out, just showing me enough to get back out of the building.  Kind of like a date that you just gave out to, but in the end all they wanted was for you to put out.  Long story short, they haven’t a clue as to what my uterus’ problem is beyond saying a big “fuck you” to me almost every day of the month.  

After years of begging the doctor to take out my lady bits, we are a step closer.  I will be having an ablation done in October.  That sounds like total fun!  Having my uterine lining burned off is like me telling my uterus to go fuck herself.  

At this point, anytime my life partner wants to bitch about having his prostate checked now that he’s 40, I pretty much tell him to fuck himself too.

a long time coming

i have started and deleted a few blog posts in the last two weeks, the words just not flowing like i wish they would.  and this post will probably be a jumble of words, so hang on tight.  :)

i have had some up days and down days, but i continue to work on personal growth and acceptance.  i struggle with acceptance as i feel there is something i should do (as in a task) or that there should be a difference in feeling, but there isn't.  well, there is a sense of freedom that comes as i move through acceptance.  but sometimes is way fucking difficult to do.  all in all, i feel better.  i feel better about myself and how i talk to myself and think about myself.  i know that i am capable, loveable, and pretty darn awesome.  gosh, that sounds so freaking egotistical.  i feel powerful, in a good way.  and that is amazing.

i received many gifts today as it's my 37th birthday.  some were material things, some monetary.  but the greatest gifts i received were those of love.  people who care about me and love me for who i am gathered together to celebrate the day.  people on facebook shared their birthday wishes.  i had some awesome texts as well from some special folks in my life.  what an amazing gift.  i am so grateful for everyone's love and friendship. 

this week i took part in a phenomenal event, One Billion Rising.  It was a call for a revolution that demands an end to violence against women & children across the globe.  We had some "random acts of dance" at work that involved some great dance moves (the sprinkler, the lawn mower, moonwalking, I could go on and on) and lots of laughter.  At work it's easy, everyone gets why we are doing this.  We are all aware of the violence and the atrocities committed.  Outside of work, it's a different story.  Getting people to care about violence in another country or even across town is difficult.  That is something I have difficulty understanding, but human rights, particularly female rights are a passionate cause in my heart.  I also had the opportunity to help plan and participate in a community event for OBR.  It didn't turn out as planned, but we had fun nonetheless. 

The snafu of the event led to a nightmare about the walk that I coordinate....I dreamed that no one but my family of four showed up at the event.  No one else.  Ack!  What a nightmare.  My heart is bursting with love for this event and I always want it to turn out well, but there are challenges.  something i figured out through this process of self discovery & growth is that i need validation from outside source to feel worthy.  and when planning a community event, this can be an issue.  when i feel as if no one is listening or cares, i feel like it is a rejection of me.  i can logically understand this isn't so, but deep down if it's important to me and i am important to someone else, why don't they recognize the passion and support it.  it is something i am working on and with multiple projects going on, i am getting the opportunity for lots of practice. :)

i am learning to love myself.  to be comfortable with myself and to hell with what others think.  that i need to please myself rather than pleasing others first.  i got an amazing text tonight from a friend and her words touched me in a way she cannot possibly imagine.  i love her and her friendship and i am so fortunate to have her in my life.  she gets me and accepts me for who i am at my core, quirks and all.  what a gift.  she's a pretty spectacular person herself.  love ya.

the hubs and i are doing awesome, working on our communication and support of each other.  it's been fantastic.  it has been a new commitment to each other and our family, which was needed. 

we had parent teacher conferences this last week.  the kids are doing great!  the boy child has been doing well with OT and the extra things we've added at home for his needs and we are seeing improvements with those additions.  the girl child is also doing great and continues to amaze me.  they both slept through the night, in their own beds for 6 nights in a row.  YES.  i could not say if that ever happened before.  it is pure awesomesauce!

well, that's the wrap-up for now.  signing off for the night.

a post with no name

i have been thinking of this post for a week now.  and i just had nor made the time to post.  i think some of it was that i was not ready yet.  but it feels necessary at the moment so here goes.  this will be a long post, a painful post, but it is something i need to do.  i need to put this somewhere and this is my space.  i will be writing about things i have barely said out loud to anyone. ever.  and here i am throwing it out for the whole damn internet to see.

i recently started seeing a therapist to help me deal with some shit that has essentially bubbled up in 2012 and it was getting to the point where i knew i needed to work on resolving things or my life would be taking a serious turn for the worse.  i fully am aware that working on shit that is 36 (almost 37) years in the making is not going to be easy and this is a commitment for the long haul.  but two sessions in and it is way more fucking difficult to face some of this shit than i thought it would be.  turns out that i have been swinging my way to depression and i am much more closer to it than i thought i was.

last year was a year of change and those changes i felt at the time were good changes, which for the most part they were.  however, there are byproducts of those changes that i was not prepared for and it has compounded things.  i left the job that i thought i was going to do for years to come.  a job that was becoming very toxic for me and was harming my health (physically, mentally, and emotionally).  i enjoyed working with most of the clients i had, helping clients facilitate positive changes.  yes, some were not pleasant to work with and others were just a plain pain in the ass, but for the most part i felt like i was making a difference.  with changes that happened and the atmosphere changing, things became toxic there and i had the opportunity to resign and find something else.  a part time job that allows me time to work with the kids and make all of their appointments without missing too much work.  i have looked at it as a good change, even though it was a hard one to make.  what i have forced myself to really look at this last week is how i truly feel about that and it is way more ugly than i want or like.  i feel like i failed.  i went back to school and waited for that job.  and i gave it up.  i forced my family to adjust to a much less income on my part.  the positive is that i do have more time to focus on the kids.  but that's usually not how i tend to look at things.

i am sitting here and the tears are beginning to fall.  the sense of inadequacy is washing over me in waves.  and i am attempting to fight it.  but it is so fucking hard.

at the urging of the therapist, i watched a movie called The Shadow Effect this last week.  and it struck a chord for me.  there is a scene that literally made me freeze and have a choking sensation....a young girl is at a mirror looking at herself with a sweatshirt on.  and she begins to put on another sweatshirt and another and yet another.  each sweatshirt has a word on it and each one represents a mask that she is layering on.  boy, oh boy.  if i fully admit it, that is me.  i have discussed this with J before and talked about the mask of being "happy."  no one can see the pain, no one can see the hurt, no one can seen the joy either ultimately.  the joy has been stifled.  the negativity is weighing me down, it is crushing me.  talking with her and watching that film has encouraged me to really take a deep look at what the hell is going on inside me.  not just my head, not just my heart, but in my gut.  in the deep recesses where i let no one in.  barely even myself.  and what i find is that i believe that i am unworthy.  that i believe i am no one and i have made choices this last year that sabotages my relationships so those who care about me have an excuse to leave me.  it is a deflection of protection because i do not think i am worthy of that person's care or love.  fuck.  that is incredibly painful to write.  but it is the truth.  where does this come from?  it is something i have always done, i can remember feeling guilt over things not in my control for years.  for my entire memory.  i shoulder blame on things that are not my fault.  i feel ashamed of mistakes that i made 15-20 years ago, things that are on no one's radar anymore and are very minute, but i feel horrible about it yet today.  it is a crushing feeling i live with.  and it has crowded out the ability to feel joy on  regular basis, to feel things other than negativity and pain and anger and sadness.  i have to work hard to feel happy.  and that is really sucky thing.  but it what it is.

there is that phrase.  for most of my life, i have told myself that.  it is what it is.  but i have not allowed myself to truly live by that.  this is my discovery this week.  for the last year, i have started to feel anger over things in my childhood.  it sounds ridiculous, but please understand that i have never allowed myself to feel anger, bitterness, or sadness over it.  i have always told myself it is what it is and i cannot change it, so i have to make the best of it.  and by not allowing myself to truly feel whatever i need to about things that happened, i have kind of fucked myself up.  at least that is how i feel.  *gosh, this is the really hard part to write....the crushing panic in my belly is overwhelming.  but i need to get it out.  i must.*  for most people that know me, they know that i was a child of a teenage, unwed mother.  that we struggled for many of the early years.  for those that really know me, they know that i had to grow up at a very early age.  for those that don't know, let me paint the picture.  i am the product of an unwed teenage mom.  and in my early years, we lived with either of my grandparents or moved around a lot.  by the time i was 18, i think we had lived in approximately 18-20 different places.  i attended the same grade school during that time, but that was really the only true stability i had.  my mom never neglected me in the true sense of neglect.  but if i am to truly look at things and accept how i feel, there are times in my childhood that could screw with my sense of who i am.  i knew little about my sperm donor (whom i have mentioned before) growing up.  i was told  a few tidbits here and there, but there were not so great bits of information.  he's a drug abuser and had been in and out of jail.  he came to see me in the hospital after i was born, but that was it.  i was told his name when i was about age 10.  and a few years later, i was told he may have taken advantage of her.  years later, i was told that when things went to court for paternity, he had his friends testify that they all has sex with her too.  and years later, it was sexual assault.   for court, the decision was made by my family to not take things further.  this literally is the gist of what i know.  even as i close into age 37.  i know so very little.  and apparently it has affected me more than i could have ever dreamed of.  that fucker didn't want to have anything to do with me  my biological grandparents didn't want me.  my grandparents & teenage mother chose not to fight for me in court.  (while that certainly may have worked in my favor as i grew up, no visitation, etc, it still fucking hurts).  i was also told that i may have half siblings in the area of his.  i have this other biological piece of me that wanted nothing to do with me.  awesome.  i have always said it doesn't matter and i was better off without him.  but it does matter.  it matters to a little girl who had to grow up being a single parent child in classes of children who have moms & dads.  it matters that there wasn't another set of grandparents to kiss my boo-boo's or see me graduate high school and then college.  it fucking matters to me that they didn't want me.  and it hurts.  terribly.  and i have never expressed that before, to anyone.  i have barely allowed myself to acknowledge it in the deepest part of my soul.

i grew up as my mom grew up.  she was 16 years old when she had me.  a child herself.  and while i cannot hate her for the choices she made, i do finally feel anger over some of them.  those very close to me know that i held her hair while she puked from being drunk, went in the car the next morning searching for her glasses along side the road where she was sick the night before.  was with my grandma often so she could go out.  spent nights at her girlfriend's parents with her girlfriend's daughter while they went and partied.  for the very first years of my life, she had a boyfriend.  and in looking back, he was abusive.  he cheated on her.  but he was the first father figure in my life.  and one night while she was working, he touched me.  and i told her a bit later and she did nothing.  she brushed it away.  and i have always told myself it could have been worse and it was what it was.  but if this year it has bubbled up into one of those things that make me angry.  i don't view myself as a victim, but i am angry that when i was "hurt" she did nothing.  i accept that she may not have known what to do or was too scared, but i am allowing myself to feel beyond pissed about the situation.  that i have had to take care of her growing up.  remembering the time she had surgery when i was in 5/6th grade and i had to be the primary nursemaid, there was an ant colony that invaded our shit-hole apartment and i had to take care of it by myself.  that there were times she would have a male friend over and i would have to go to my room while she was with him.  or the time the guy wouldn't come over so we hopped in the car to pick him up from the bar.  that shit wasn't right.  and i am finally allowing myself to feel all of the feelings from my childhood.  that little girl who was scared and stability was sometimes an issue.  the woman i am today who struggles with control.  because when i am not in control i feel anxious.  but then i realize i'm not really in control anyway and i feel like i am about to lose everything.  and then i feel in my heart that i should lose everything because i'm not worth it.  i am unlovable.

i struggled greatly with perfectionism in high school.  i was very close to developing an eating disorder in my senior year.  i said that i let go of the perfectionist idea, but what i truly did was move it to a different avenue.  i became better at beating myself up privately.  i became a master at the masks. i have put on weight as a protection mechanism and while i have tried to become healthier over the years, i have not been successful because i don't believe i am worth it nor that i can actually do it.  i have sabotaged myself and made excuses.  and i have been afraid of taking a real hard look at why i gained it and why i don't want to lose it.  i have made my persona the 'plump chic who likes to laugh and make jokes" because it is easier to deal with others and what's inside.  laughter is used as a deflection tool for me sometimes.  i do not allow people to get close to me.  even my partner, who i pledged to spend my life with.  i drive him away sometimes, and at the time i am doing it, i am hating myself even more.  i have very few *close* friends.  it is easier for me that way.  while i am more of an introvert and recharge with time by myself, i also know that when i am feeling poorly emotionally, i shut myself down from many outside activities, especially if they are group activities.   even though in the days leading up to it, i want to participate...when the day comes, i just can't.  lately, it's because someone might see through the mask.  emotionally, things are bubbling at the surface for me and if sometime asks me how things are going, i cannot promise that i won't be able to turn on the happy face and say "things are great."  when it comes down to it, that's what people want to hear.  they don't want to hear that one is suffering or frustrated or whatever right now.

i sit here now with no tears, no snot streaming out of my nose, and the feeling of "oh shit, what are you doing" is gone from my gut.  i feel amazing that i wrote this.  that i expressed it.  and this is just the beginning.  i have a shit ton of work ahead of me, but i think i can do it.  i have to, there is no other option as i cannot keep functioning the way i was.

this is the end of the post with no name for now.  but i will be writing more as i make my way through the metamorphosis.  please be kind, please do not take what i have shared and misuse it.  please know that i am not, and have not been, suicidal.  i have kidlets i have to care for and simply cannot imagine leaving them behind.  should things become an issue, i will make the blog private and i don't want to do that.

as i covered with my therapist the first week, there appears to be a great deal many issues i need to work through:  childhood, pregnancy issues, trust & control issues, parenting issues, relationship issues, and whatever else comes bubbling up.  i wrote this post to express myself in what i consider my space and to work on opening up to others.  i am who i am, take it or leave it.  but i really don't want people to leave it.  i already have abandonment issues apparently, let's not add more.  :)   (see, there i go with the jokes cuz this is uncomfortable)

i am going to end each of these with a positive about myself.  and here is tonight's:  while i do not share my heart easily, i am a person with a big heart who is compassionate about those in need, whatever the need may be.

Fear and Change

*note - this post is not for the faint of heart.*

Things became clearer this evening and although I am not at the peak yet, I'm ready (and scared shitless) to lay it all out there.  A friend shared with me a quote she heard the other day, "Be honest with yourself why you really eat."  And the being honest part is the total rub.  I can tell you that I eat because 1. I'm hungry  2. I'm an emotional eater 3. Because I'm bored.  Since I heard that phrase, it's been turning over and over inside my head.  And tonight as I watched another episode of EM: Weight Loss Edition and several themes in that young lady's life ran parallel to mine, the phrase kept repeating.  I have been trying very hard to not eat in the evenings as that is my "snacky" time.  But tonight I became edgy and ran upstairs to get some chips & dip.  I munched for about 5 minutes and felt sick to my stomach as I truthfully faced what emotions were really coursing through my body.  I took the snacks back upstairs and came back down.  And I cried.  I watched this young woman face the self doubt and loathing that I feel deep inside that I try hard not to let out.  I saw this beautiful child face the pain of having to be the grown-up in a parent/child relationship and it hit home for me.  A daughter with an absent father and as she tried to accept the less than perfect life and parent/child relationship, I watched as she took control of her life and accepted that she cannot change him and it is okay to not have a close relationship.  I saw a girl who had turned to food to comfort herself, to drown her feelings, and to create this self protective cocoon around herself by being 'big.'  I saw so much of myself.  And for the first time I accepted and welcomed the flood of emotions.  I didn't just stuff them.  And it fucking scares me to death.

I get that we all have our lot in life and we all deal with it how we deal with it.  I've always felt as if I do an okay job of dealing with it.  Except if I'm being honest with myself (and since that is the name of the game for this post), I am a stuffer.  I stuff the emotions and put on the happy face.  I do not want others to see what I am feeling or fearing.  And at times it has made me feel as if I am void inside.  True joy and happiness has not been felt on a regular basis.

I have always accepted the fact that my sperm donor is a piece of shit.  I knew from little on that my biological father did not want to be a part of my life and it was better off that way.  I know he was into drugs and that I have several half siblings in this world through him.  It never really bothered me much as a child, to be honest.  It was just how my life was.  I remember a time where my cousins and I had our photos taken and when the newspaper guy asked for our parents names, my cousin replied that I didn't have a dad.  It is my earliest memory where I can recall feeling that perhaps my life was "different."  My dad (step-dad) came into our lives when I was 11 and it changed our lives.  However because of my age and where I was at, I really did not become comfortable calling him my dad until I was an adult, and didn't do so in his presence until the last few years.  There have been times over the years that I have felt resentful that my sperm donor chose to be a douchebag.  I do not feel a huge loss (that I can tell) not having him in my life.  It does feel awkward that I have this other biological family in the area and as far as I know, they are just fine with ignoring the result of a night in which their son got his teenage girlfriend drunk and pregnant.  What I do have issues with is the information that has come my way throughout the years.  I was around 10/12yo when I learned what his name was.  Years later, I was told that when my grandparents attempted to take him to court for child support/etc, things came out in court that cause(d) my mom to have her own issues.  My grandparents apparently dropped the court thing after that.  And that makes me angry.  I can understand why they did it.  I can say I'm happy I did not have to be one of those kids who had to shuffle back and forth, but it still makes me angry.  And over time, I've just accepted that it's okay to be angry about it.  There are several other childhood issues that make me angry or sad.  Things that I think I have worked to accept, but also accepted that I can feel angry about them.  None of those things have ever been whispered to my mother.  I just cannot do it. 


I have made choices in my life that are not for everyone.  That is the beauty of choice, isn't it.  I grew up with a strong perfectionist mindset and while I do not display that outwardly in my daily life, if I am being 100% honest, it still has a hold of me.  I do not feel worthy.  I have chosen to take comfort in food and wrapping myself in a layer of fat, knowing that I do not like the way I look, but so fucking scared to take down the walls.  They are there to keep people away.  There is a reason I don't allow people to get too close to me.  I am working on loving myself, but the positive self talk is a struggle most times.  Allowing others to love me.  Boy, that is tough at times.  It makes me uncomfortable to have the praise of others, even though I'm striving to do almost everything they want me to do or expect me to do.  Learning to accept that I am who I am and if someone does not like me or my choices, tough shit for them.  If they cannot accept me, it truly is there loss.  I have positive things to give others.  I know it in my heart.  And letting the real me shine through and taking pride in myself has allowed me to become a stronger woman.  A woman who is accepting and proud of her convictions (most of the time).

There are so many things I want to say and I never say them.  The reasons for not saying them are usually because I do not want to bring pain or sadness to another, yet I have no problem shouldering the experience myself.  There have been so many blog posts I've wanted to write but didn't because I was too scared.  Scared that I might offend someone or that someone close to me might think less of me after reading something.  Self censorship seemed easier.  But stifling oneself is a tragedy.  And it's one that I can no longer live with.  I can say (with some trepidation) that if you do not like what I have to say, then don't read.  I don't write for others, I'm writing for myself.  Something I have not done for a long, long time. In the last year, I have really been struggling to discover who I truly am and what makes me happy.  And in that process, it is difficult to be truthful that perhaps things are not the way you planned them to be.   To question what one can change and what one can accept in your life.  To know that outcomes of changes can have large impacts on those around you. 

It is time.  Time for me to take charge of my life and make it be everything I want and more.  To allow myself to feel without stuffing my face.  It is okay that I am scared to lose weight and be healthier, but that does not mean that I allow the fear to become failure.  That it is not impossible to commit to myself and my health.  Change is some scary shit, but it is so powerful and necessary at times.  In EM:WLE, Chris talks about how the year long process is a transformation.  And each episode I have watched has been awe-inspiring.  However, tonight's show took it to a whole new level for me and for that I am thankful.

“Your journey has molded you for your greater good, and it was exactly what it need to be.   Don't think that you've lost time. It took each and every situation you have encountered to bring you to the now. 

And now is right on time.”  ~Asha Tyson

The only way of finding the limits of the possible is by going beyond them into the impossible.
Arthur C. Clarke

what is it i'm really feeling?

i am at a point in my life where i attempting to feel more content, but when i do a self check-in during the day i find myself feeling discontented.  and i hate it.  so i have been trying to make peace with where my life choices have led me, accept things the way they are and change the items i can change.  i know when i feel discontented i isolate and that is probably not the best thing, but i tend to hibernate as i attempt to figure shit out.  acceptance is my life lesson this summer and something i have tended to stumble with in recent years.  i am at a moment where i am also reviewing if things are the way i'd like them to be with my life and what i can possibly do to change them.

something i have really striven to do is to take moments of time and appreciate them more.   i have tried so fucking hard to lighten up and just be crazy and live in the moment, even if that means yelling "vagina" at the top of my lungs in movie theater parking lot with great friends.  not taking things in my life for granted and loving the things i have fully is also on the to do list.  and i know the list will not be accomplished overnight.  but it's there and it's something i will endeavor to work on each day.

i'll leave you with this awesome photo i saw posted on fb the other day.... (not sure of the original poster of this photo, but whoever you are....THANK YOU)

Changing

I've come to realize many things change over the course of our lifetimes, including ourselves. I'm surprised at how much things can change. My core values & beliefs have only gotten stronger, but there are things about myself that have changed. A few examples...

I used to have patience, much more patience. I would let 2-3 cars go ahead of me in a parking lot or wherever because I wasn't in that big of a hurry to get to my destination. I would be hollering at J for bitching about crazy, asshole drivers. Now, that is me. My son has picked up a few choice phrases from listening to mommy while I drive. That's okay, as long as he yells at the same driver. J/K, I know it's not okay that my son walks around saying "fucking christ," but it does make me laugh. I don't allow him to see me laugh, but it does bring a smile to my inner face while I'm telling him to not say those words. Drivers who are too slow piss me off. Drivers who are over the top aggressive piss me off. Drivers who don't use their blinkers piss me off. Get the point?

For years I have been a minimalist when it comes to my wardrobe. I'm a t-shirt & jeans kind of gal. I hardly ever wear earrings and have been known to not wear much jewelry beyond my pearl on a gold chain. I'm changing that. And I like it. Jewelry has become a fun way of bedazzling myself. It's fun.

I'm more outspoken. I think some of this has to do with a work friend who has no issues sharing her mind, but whatev. I used to never say anything about bad food at a restaurant, bad service, rude people, etc. Now, watch your ass! I am not rude about it, but I have gotten better at speaking my mind. The whole not caring so much about what others think still needs some major work, but I'm getting better.

I'm not sure if it's due to becoming older and wiser, or being more comfortable with myself. Either way, I like it.

The Courage To Be Myself

*I got this by email a while back from a friend, I don't know where the credit goes for this, but whomever wrote it...thank you.
I have the courage to…

-Embrace my strengths-
-Get excited about life-
-Enjoy Giving and receiving love-
-Face and transform my fears-
-Ask for help and support when I need it-
-Spring free of the Superwoman Trap-
-Make my own decisions and choices-
-Befriend myself-
-Complete unfinished business-
-Realize that I have emotional and practical rights-
-Talk as nicely to myself as I do to my plants-
-Communicate lovingly with understanding as my goal-
-Give myself credit for my accomplishments-
-Love the little girl within me-
-Overcome my addiction to approval-
-Grant myself permission to play-
-Quit being a Responsibility Sponge-
-Feel all of my feelings and act on them appropriately-
-Nurture others because I want to, not because I have to-
-Insist on being paid fairly for what I do-
-Set limits and boundaries and stick by them-
-Say “yes” only when I really mean it-
-Have realistic expectations-
-Take risks and accept change-
-Grow through challenges-
-Be totally honest with myself-
-Correct erroneous beliefs and assumptions-
-Respect my vulnerabilities-
-Heal old and current wounds-
-Savor the mystery of Spirit-
-Wave good-bye to guilt-
-Plant “flower,” not “weed” thoughts in my mind-
-Treat myself with respect and teach others to do the same-
-Fill my own cup first, then nourish others from the overflow-
-Own my own excellence-
-Plan for the future, but live in the present-
-Value my intuition and wisdom-
-Know that I am lovable-
-Celebrate the differences between men and women-
-Develop healthy, supportive relationships-
-Make forgiveness a priority-
-Accept myself just as I am now-

Dead Weight

This title would be pretty descriptive of how I feel lately. Blah. Tired. Just want to crawl in bed and lay there. All day.

I'm coming down off my overwhelmed high of the walk and the busy month of May and entered my depressive state. It doesn't help that I'm on some new medication that may also seem to be assisting with fatigue.

My periods have been way whacked out for the past several months and after some checking with the doctor (gotta love the surprise gyno exam) and a rather lengthy ultrasound (findings: I have a large uterus and a cyst on one of my ovaries), he wants to put me on birth control to regulate my period. Shazaam. I don't need damn birth control anymore, dammit! My husband has been fixed! But I'm willing to give it a shot, or a ring in my case, to see if this will help out.

I'm just starting my second month on the ring and I hate it. Apparently, my odd size uterus also causes issues with my vagina. And the placement of the ring. The small print that comes with the packaging states that the ring may slip out during a bowel movement and that very low percentage of people can feel the ring up in the great wide openness that is my who-haw. But I can and it slipped out. Seriously, what a pain in the ass. Or should I say vagina?

Beyond the placement issues, I think this thing is causing my fatigue, nausea, leg pain, and a couple other small symptoms. And it just plain sucks. I'm thinking I should finish out the month to give it a go, but the leg pain could be a sign of blood clots, which isn't all that good. I occasionally get cramps in my calf muscle, say 1-3 crying, it hurts so bad, episodes per year. I've had about 5 in the last two weeks. Not so good.

Right now, my plan is to keep, or attempt to keep, the ring in through the week as we are going camping and I'm afraid Aunt Flo will start up again if I take it out. And let's face it, who the hell wants to go camping when you have your period. Double yuck. We get home, I think it's coming out. And I'll be back on the road to finding something that helps my freakin' weirdo body.

Over The Shoulder Boulder Holders

I was looking at new bras the other day and man, oh, man....does bra shopping suck. It's torture, plain and simple. New bras at the store are scratchy and honestly a litle disgusting when you think about someone trying it on before you. One hopes the person didn't have boobie cooties. Different brands are different sizes, some have thinner straps and then dig into your skin more, etc. What an ordeal. The best feeling is to slip back into your old, ratty, used-to-be-white bra, even if it's all streched out. It's like that old pair of shoes you can't get rid of because they are just so damn comfortable. I usually keep a bra until the underwire breaks. Even if it's grey and dingy now. I guess "sweets & treats" will just have to wait another day for a new holder.

Powerful Women's Motto:

Live your life in such a way that when your feet hit the floor in the morning,
Satan shudders & says...
"Oh Hell....she's awake!!"

I got this in an email from a girlfriend and it made me smile.

Tony Baroney

Way, way, way back when I was in high school, I was a cheerleader. Yes, I said a cheerleader. (For those that are laughing out loud at this moment, you can take five more seconds and then knock it off) Early on in my high school cheer career, my friend Dawn and I were on the wrestling squad. And some of our wrestlers were going to state, so we got to go with. It was quite a nice highlight of that particular year in school.

Well, being the young ladies we were, we found ourselves some hot (well, we thought they were hot at the time) wrestlers that we flirted with and talked with quite bit. Tony was my guy. I cannot for the life of me, remember the other guys names. (Help me out Dawn.) In our teenage glory, we found them very cute and of course giggled and whispered about them. We gave the guys pet names, hence Tony Baroney.

Those couple of days at state were quite illuminating as well. Our squad captain (I'll call her Gigi) was two years older than us and more um, shall we say, seasoned in the guy department. She had this long dark hair, almost down to her ass, and she'd whip it around like a tornado. She was a small thing, pretty, and thought she was pretty cool. Gigi used a banana to illustrate how to perform some acts, which was just darn hilarious and still makes me laugh today. One of our members had never used tampons before, so she was informed on how to use those. We hung out in the pool, ate lots of junk food, and talks boys.

The "boys" we liked gave us a call one night and invited us over to their room. Gigi wasn't having it. She said she was worried about us getting raped and we were kinda pissed off at her. There she was telling us about the shit she did/does and she doesn't want us to go make out with boys. To this day, I think it was more about being jealous than being worried about us.

This is one of those high school memories for me that I will remember forever, and laugh about forever. To this day, if somethings wrong all Dawn needs to say to me is "Tony Baroney" and it brings an instant smile to my face.

Boot Scootin' Boogie

I called to schedule my annual exam today. Just 56 days until I get to show my hoochie coochie off to another man. I was laughing with some friends last week about the "scoot" the nurse/doc always asks us ladies to do. You know the one. You think your ass is about as close to the edge of the table as possible and you lie back only to have them say, "Can you scoot up a bit more." Um, would you like my vagina in your lap?

I had a nurse once who always told you what she was doing before or as she was doing it. I think it's probably helpful for some, but for me it just made me want to bust out laughing. "Touching, touching, here comes a little coldness" she'd say. Yeah, I figured that one out as you spread 'em wide and stick that metal thing in my hidey-hole. For weeks afterwards, I couldn't be intimate without thinking "touching, touching." That makes things real fun, let me tell ya. The husband isn't so thrilled the second & third time he hears me laughing as he's attempting to get fresh.

I remember when I first got my period (I was 11) and for that first year or so, I'd count to myself, "this is the 14th time I've had my period." It was such a big deal. It quickly became a pain in the ass, or rather a pain in the whoo-ha. I've been through the "oh god, I hope I get my period" times and the "fuck, aunt flo showed up" times. Now that I'm done having babies, I really wish this shit would be here for like 2-3 days and then be done with. But no, I've got this screwed up period that comes earlier and earlier each month and lasts FOR-EV-ER. And try explaining to your 5yo why there is red on the tp and she thinks you are having bloody poopies, something she's terrified of. I hope she is a late bloomer in the period department. The boobies too.

Speaking of the ta-ta's. What does your nurse/doc talk to you about while they are giving you your breast exam. Nothing like chatting up the weather as a strangers hands press on your breasts and squeeze your nipples. I've been known to show off my girls a time or two. I'm not shy. But the breast exam creeps me out. I get more bothered by that than the showing of the hooterville down below.

Of course, after one has children you can bare all to anyone at anytime. After the prodding, the poking, the fingers-no the whole hand up there to check the cervix, my va-jay-jay is like an inanimate object. It's mine, but it's not really attached to my body anymore. Does that feeling go away after you have kids? The vessel that brought forth my babies feels different, acts different...well hell, it's just different now.

So, how many different ways did I describe my little love muffin? I don't really have names for my parts, but I bet it would be fun to come up with something.

What's Wrong With Me

This has to be more than just PMS. I'm so moody, pissy, so close to tears at times. God, I feel exhausted with just the emotions coursing through my body. I have suffered from depression before and while I don't believe or feel that I'm in that despair again, I am starting to wonder if a little St. John's Wart would help a girl out. Or some lovely white pills.

I switched up my general practitioner care, for the much better. My old family physician, well, he just sucked. I only saw him for my yearly cholesterol check. Any other time I tried to get in for a problem, he was on vacation or had no openings, so I would end up at the walk-in. I switched to an internal medicine doc and jeez, we are on the move immediately. Got some lab work next week and had some tests last week, which are resulting in my going in for a CT scan tomorrow. I'll update once I know something other than me having some "decreased lung capacity."

One of the main things we are looking into is the possibility of me having PCOS. I actually questioned this back in 2005 when I saw asshole OB. He told me I didn't look like a PCOS gal and that was about it. I remember being pissed at the time, but we were also TTC for almost a year at that point, so my focus was more on that. Happily we got pregnant not long after that, so I just put it out of my head. I never mentioned it to my current OB and frankly haven't thought about it until the new doc said something. I have many of the classic symptoms and when I take the little quiz on the support site, it says most women with my score turn out to have PCOS. Not sure how this affects me in the long run as I know more about the infertility piece of it.

I've been struggling lately. The lovely memories of HELLP are back with Ariana's birthday, and the fears of Phoenix's pregnancy & birth. Each year I think it won't bother me as much, and then whammo I feel everything just as strong as the year before. I'm not sure if I hold shit in regarding this that I just can't seem to let the emotions go. I've felt like I've made peace with our experience. I know it's the same for some, well most, of my other preeclampsia sisters. Tomorrow it will be five years from the day where I learned I would be having my baby over 5 weeks early and I had this preeclampsia thing. It would be months later before I learned just how sick I really was. Denial is such a wonderful and awful thing. We also had a loss last year that was unexpected. I don't share this for sympathy, so please don't share you're sorry. I'm sharing to open up and let things go. Things weren't going well that's about all I can fully say. It's very private for me. We haven't shared here, or with pretty much all of our family & friends. We have/had several family members & friends who were experiencing infertility and it was just too private. It's been a rough year.

I am a person who may seem very outgoing to many people who know me in real life, but honestly it's so hard for me to open up. My patient husband can attest to that fact. I've always had to hold things together since I was little and it's carried on into adulthood. I grew up in a single parent home, my mom was 17 when she had me. I never really knew anything about my father until I was much older. All I knew was that I didn't have a dad. It didn't make sense when I was young, that feeling of rejection. And the reasons for him not being there were not known to me until much, much later. Even now, I don't believe I know the entire story. It's simply something we don't discuss. I was surrounded by love growing up and I'm incredibly thankful for that. But those early years of childhood into teenager, have left their mark. I withdraw when I'm feeling anxious, sad, worried, etc. It's what I do. I have a difficult time discussing real emotions or having a disagreement as I usually start to tear up immediately. It's one of those things that I hate about myself. I'm much more happier being able to hermit myself at home with a movie or a book than going out with the crowd or to a party. I don't really have social anxiety over being out, it's just that I'd rather stay home. I put on the show of "everything's fine" and that really gets tiring after a while.

Well, now. That's way more than what I intended this post to be. Wow. Talk about vomit-speak. Now the dilemma of leaving it or deleting it. The self-questioning begins, was I too open, do you think I'm nuts now....all those lovely things. The one bad thing about sharing your blog with family & friends is that they can read it. So to post something so private is taking some balls. Please be gentle and don't beat the shit out of me with your comments.

The Next Survivor Series

I got this in email from a girlfriend the other week and thought it was funny.

Six married men will be dropped on an island with one car and 3 kids each for six weeks. Each kid will play two sports and either take music or dance classes.

There is no fast food.

Each man must take care of his 3 kids; keep his assigned house clean, correct all homework, and complete science projects, cook, do laundry, and pay a list of 'pretend' bills with not enough money.

In addition, each man will have to budget in money for groceries each week.

Each man must remember the birthdays of all their friends and relatives, and send cards out on time.

Each man must also take each child to a doctor's appointment, a dentist appointment and a haircut appointment.

He must make one unscheduled and inconvenient visit per child to the Urgent Care.

He must also make cookies or cupcakes for a social function.

Each man will be responsible for decorating his own assigned house, planting flowers outside and keeping it presentable at all times.

The men will only have access to television when the kids are asleep and all chores are done.

The men must shave their legs, wear makeup daily, adorn himself with jewelry, wear uncomfortable yet stylish shoes, keep fingernails polished and eyebrows groomed.

During one of the six weeks, the men will have to endure severe abdominal cramps, back aches, and have extreme, unexplained mood swings but never once complain or slow down from other duties.

They must attend weekly school meetings, church, and find time at least once to spend the afternoon at the park or a similar setting.

They will need to read a book each night and in the morning, feed them, dress them, brush their teeth and comb their hair by 7:00 am.

A test will be given at the end of the six weeks, and each father will be required to know all of the following information: each child's birthday, height, weight, shoe size, clothes size and doctor's name. Also the child's weight at birth, length, time of birth, and length of labor, each child's favorite color, middle name, favorite snack, favorite song, favo rite drink, favorite toy, biggest fear and what they want to be when they grow up.

The kids vote them off the island based on performance. The last man wins only if...he still has enough energy to be intimate with his spouse at a moment's notice.

If the last man does win, he can play the game over and over and over again for the next 18-25 years eventually earning the right To be called Mother!

Inner Bitch

My inner bitch is starting to shine. It's that time of month where I wonder where this beast inside me comes from? I'm crabby, tired, and when the dear hubby breathes, severely annoyed. The PMS seems to be getting worse since I had kids. It arrives about a week before Aunt Flo makes her appearance.

This weekend, Jason and I are at odds. We both think the other is saying something they really are not, and taking offense. It's just so lovely to be married at the moment.

Just be glad you don't live with me.