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Why Don’t We Talk About It?

Why does our society keep real, raw emotions so secretive? We ask others how they are doing, while only really wanting to hear them say “I’m fine.” We are in too much of a hurry to give a shit about anyone else’s lives. For those that actually want to share their truth and the pain they are going through, they don’t feel like they have the freedom to express themselves. They think no one cares anyway, so why should we even try?

Some people might think my blog is too negative or too depressing. First of all, if you don’t like it don’t read it. Next, I’m being real. Right now I feel negative. I am struggling with my depression. I am in physical and emotional pain. I am struggling. I am in a rut. You know what else? All of those feelings are ok. We are humans and we have every right to express it. If it makes someone uncomfortable, that’s their issue. I think it’s brave and strong to be yourself and tell it like you see it when everyone else is telling you that you’re wrong. Maybe the one’s that are “too sensitive” “too honest” “a bleeding heart” are actually the ones who have life figured out. Ever thought of that?

I have been told ever since I was a little girl that I was “too sensitive.” I’ve been told I was “too nice” and “too caring.” WTF is that? That’s not a thing. I say fuck you to that. It’s like a badge of honor in our society to not express emotions other than intimidation, power, and anger. That gets you respected. When I’m “too sensitive” I’m reaffirming society’s stereotype that I’m a weak woman and won’t have anything of value to contribute to a certain job or society because I cry easily. I have a tender heart and I do not apologize for that. I will NOT apologize for it.

This is one of my favorite quotes; “the only way for evil to prevail is if good men do nothing.” by Edmund Burke. There are some slight variations to that quote, but what I’ve written is tattooed on the back on my right arm. It inspires me. It reminds me that even if I’m not doing the unacceptable behavior, if I see it and do nothing, I am just as responsible as the perpetrator. We turn our heads and avert our eyes to things we don’t want to acknowledge that they exist. But that’s life. That is why my heart is so tender. That is why I “care too much.” We already have so many people caring too little, I may not be able to make a major difference in the world. But I’m sure going to try.

I’ve been told I was grandiose and delusional because I want to save the world. Ok, that’s probably not possible. But who would ever try to put someone down who has that goal? Shoot for the moon and even if you miss you’ll land among the stars. I’d rather try too hard and fail, than sit back and pretend that unacceptable behavior is ok, because I’m not standing up for the ones that can’t defend themselves.

The way I think is more exhausting. It does add to my depression. I tend to be more cynical than most people. This isn’t to be negative. It’s to be real. I’m a realist and I’ve worked in addictions, mental hospitals, jails. I’ve worked with some of the most challenging populations and guess what they don’t need? Tough love. Someone else pointing out their flaws. Being told they are worthless and have no purpose. When we are allowed to see people as people, and really want to see them, you don’t just accept the good parts of them. You get the good, the bad and the ugly. I am judgmental towards people, I’m trying not to be, but for the most part I feel I see at least some good in others, after all we are all people. Every person started out innocent and we don’t know other people’s circumstances that brought them to make the choices they have made in their lives. They can’t change their past, I can’t change their past; but as a society we can treat individuals like humans. We need to have more of a community thinking. We are all selfish and try to get stuff, money and power for ourselves. Other cultures work as a team. They seem to understand what really matters; not materialistic stuff, overworking ourselves while ignoring our families, money. Our lives should be about quality. Quality time with loved ones. Getting joy in helping others. And having more experiences and less possessions.

I would put my life on the possibility that if we become more compassionate towards others; become more accepting, and more willing to help others then there would be significant decreases in crimes, less suicides, less isolation and feelings of worthlessness and being hopeless. I don’t have many followers on my blog and that’s ok. I’m just rambling here, but this is what I’m passionate about. We are all equals. I’m not better than anyone else, even if I were a billionaire that doesn’t mean shit. It’s my heart that counts. No one gets to choose who their parents are. We don’t get to choose the color of our skin. We can’t choose our financial situations. With all of these things being out of everyone’s control it confuses me that we judge others on stupid things that not one of us chose or had  any say in.

I have so many things to say on this topic and other related ones, my mind is racing and wanting to get it all out. Again, sorry for the stream of consciousness. I believe that violence is a learned behavior. Research has proven that learned behaviors can be unlearned. See where I’m going with this? It won’t work for everyone, it just won’t. But don’t judge a person on their history and their mistakes. Violence can be unlearned.

Let’s give people chances. Let’s help provide safe environments where we are actually interested in how a person is doing. How they are really doing, not the “I’m fine” because society tells us to do that weird shit. Let’s take an interest into things and people other than ourselves. I wonder what kind of a world it could be if each day we were just a tad nicer, a tad kinder, give one more person a genuine smile, a wave to a lonely individual. The little things matter, and the little things can become the big things if we get enough people who want to make the world a better place.

My post may not be easy to follow to be on the same topic, however, the way my brain works I see all the connections. I’ve had people tell me they would love to be inside my head for a day. There’s some deep shit in there. And some awesome as well. Venting, complaining, feeling sorry for myself; however you want to classify this post as makes me feel a little lighter. It’s ok for me to struggle. When I struggle it also helps me to think about the injustices in the world and if there is something I could do to help change it. I’m an empath and will always feel the pain of others. While it hurts my heart, I can handle it and hopefully be able to make the world a better place. Even a tiny bit.

Sorry, not sorry; for the serious tangent I went on. I felt like writing what I was thinking and it feels really good to get this out even if no one ever reads it. Honestly, it took my mind off some of the neck pain I’m having right now, so that is extra wonderful. Have good snoozes everyone! XOXO

There’s a Ghost in My Hip

I was planning on writing sooner, but I haven’t felt like it. The surgery took place Wed morning and I was discharged late Friday evening. I’ve been trying to get as much sleep as possible and getting the pain under control. I’ll write more about the specifics of the surgery later. Too long to write currently, and I don’t have the attention span to make a lot of sense.

Photo Credit: WebMD There’s the Ghost, the red mark, I bet that’s it right there!

They put cadaver bone in my hip, after they took a chunk out to place into my neck. I was told that most people say the hip hurts worse than the neck and that it’s extremely painful. Thank my lucky stars that I have a high pain tolerance, because I have almost no pain in my hip. It aches a bit when I get up or sit down. And if I put my hands  on it, it just feels like I’m pressing on a bruise. That’s about it for the hip pain.

The Ghost Hip

Back to my ghost story. I believe that they gave me a bone from a serial killer. Seriously! What if that’s what they use for cadaver bones? They wouldn’t have to pay for them because no one else would want them, and no one really wants to bury a serial killer because they might not feel they are worthy of a proper burial. Instead, they harvest their parts to place into unknowing patients who just want to feel better.

Photo Credit: They did this to me! Look at all the room for the ghost to play in!

Makes sense, right? I feel like mine is a famous serial killer, probably Ted Bundy or Jeffrey Dahmer. I’m not having the urge to kill anyone, so it’s not like they are possessing me, rather they are making me another one of their victims. I don’t have much pain in my hip and that’s exactly what that sneaky little ghost bone wants. That’s how they get you!

All irritated and bumpy. Quite attractive really.

My neck is killing me, I can’t keep much food down and I’ve been having these brutal migraines. The ghost is behind this. I’m leaning more towards Dahmer, because even with all the puking and lack of appetite, I’m gaining weight. Like 10lbs since Wed. A plump person would be more appetizing. Dahmer did like to eat his victims. Coincidence? I think not. I’m going to look into hip exorcism and see if that’s a thing. Stay tuned, unless I’m being eaten inside out by Dahmer’s ghost…..

Does anyone else think this kind of looks like an infected vagina?

‘Twas the Night Before Surgery

My chances of risk for tomorrow

We are about 10 hours away from my arrival at the hospital. The nerves have really started to kick in. My stomach is in knots and I feel like I could puke at any moment. I’ve heard that people who have had this surgery are grateful they did it. Hopefully, I will be one of the ones that feels like it was worth it.

I can’t take pain meds. They make me violently ill. I’ll have some for when I’m under, but not the rest of the recovery process. They said that the most common side effect is trouble swallowing. I don’t remember if I mentioned it in another post or not, but they are going in the left side of my neck and moving my esophagus and trachea aside. I am anxious about that part. I think I’ll freak out if I can’t swallow.

I know the pain will suck, but I’d like to think I can handle it. At least adequately enough. I guess I will be up and walking sometime tomorrow, unless any complications happen. Let’s keep those fingers crossed that everything goes according to plan.

Look at this picture of my gorgeous neck. Look at it! So beautiful! I don’t mind scars, but I’m weird about change. With each tattoo I’ve gotten I’ve had kind of a memorial for the place of skin that will no longer just be flesh. I think the scar will probably look cool, but it will be an adjustment to now have one. These are the last photos of my perfect neck without markings.

No scar yet

Last night with a scar free neck!

I hope everyone had a lovely 4th of July and got to spend some wonderful time with family and friends. That’s one of the major downsides of divorce. Splitting time with your kids. I had her last year for fireworks, and we agreed that every other year we will get her for fireworks. It’s absolutely fair, but crappy the year it’s not mine.

We have agreed to spend most holidays together or split between us. Like today I should have gotten the entire morning and early afternoon with her, and he would get late afternoon through fireworks. That way we both get to see her on holidays. A huge benefit of living close, with both sides of extended family close as well.

4th of July 2017

This morning she had a play date with some friends from her preschool and her dad met us there. She spent most of the day with him. One, because she would have more fun with him. Two, I’m in a lot of pain. Three, my mom had to pick me up to take me down to her house since she will be driving me to the hospital early tomorrow morning.

I hope people are watching some beautiful fireworks while listening to patriotic music, while I’m in bed watching old episodes of Family Guy while I type. I packed my baby blanket that I’ve had since I was a baby for extra luck tomorrow. And comfort. My nephews, 6 and 3, both said it was gross today. I even washed it this morning. In all fairness, it looks like a shredded mop and in no way resembles any type of blanket. But, it’s a comfort and I will never get rid of it.

Happy 4th!

Until I awake…..kisses!!!

Chances of getting hurt or dying tonight. Be safe!


Neck Pains and Vagina Games

My surgery almost got postponed. Just a tad before 5pm this evening I got a call from the surgeon’s office telling me that insurance FINALLY approved my surgery. They are only approving a 23 hour stay in the hospital. Laughable. At this point I don’t care. I’m having the surgery. I will be on the road to recovery in a little less than 36 hours. I would have been so livid if it had to be rescheduled. Nothing like waiting until the last second and making me so nervous I almost threw up.

It’s so hard to fake it. I hate the “fake it ’til you make it” saying. One, because it isn’t genuine. Two, that takes a lot of energy. And three, I don’t think I’m that convincing that I’m fine when I’m really not. Chronic pain and mental illness are so misunderstood. It isn’t easy to pretend you’re fine when your head and body are at constant war.

Photo Credit:
Artist: Al Margen

People really struggle with understanding others if they can’t see something obviously wrong with them. It’s like no one actually believes that you are suffering if you don’t have the blood shed to prove it. Once I have the surgery, I’ll have all sorts of people sending me well wishes and prayers. I absolutely appreciate it, but I wish it could be acknowledged that the struggle is real right now.

I keep snapping at my daughter. Pain makes a person so grumpy. I have no patience for her and it makes me feel like a shit mom. I also feel like the most non-fun parent in the world. She has a great dad who spends quality time with her and they have a lot of fun. They do a lot of active and adventurous things. He’s exciting. I’m grateful he is like that, but it’s hard not to compare yourself to that. He is the literal Disney dad (he’s taken her to Disney World twice, one time with me but that’s not the point). I’m boring and tired and in pain. I could happily (well depressedly) stay in bed all day and lay around with her. Apparently, that isn’t much fun for an almost 4-year-old.

When I was watching videos online of the surgery I’ll be having, I found that the inside of your neck looks like BBQ ribs. I can’t get that thought out of my head. So I asked my Dr. at my pre-op if he eats ribs. This is after I asked the essential before surgery questions of course. He kind of looked at me like I was a weirdo. I am. I told him that the inside of the neck reminds me of ribs and I was curious if he ate them after seeing so many gross things during surgery. He responded; “yes. I’m an omnivore.” That was a disappointing response. I did get a hint of a smirk, but that’s about it.

Photo Credit: The Metapicture

My bladder is still trying to calm down. I think I’m finally starting to feel better. I’m not sure, I can’t ever tell. Sometimes I think I’m all better, then I’ll be living on the toilet for the next 2 days desperately trying to pee. I was hoping after the whole bladder debacle I would actually be fine in that area.

I have another story related to this. Last week I was feeling like I had another UTI. So I took some antibiotics and AZO to calm it down. I was on it for several days and it wasn’t getting any better. I thought something else might be wrong. I was at my parents’ house and decided to take a gander at the ‘ol vag. It’s not a pretty picture down there. Might help if I knew my what’s going on down there, but hey web MD told me all I needed to know.

I decided from my vaginal detective skills that I had a genital wart and HPV. I called my ex and accused him of giving it to me. I asked him if he knew that he had an STD before he infected me. He denied, denied, denied. I took pictures of my nether region so that I could inspectigate more closely. I looked for similar pictures on google.

When I found what diseases I probably had, I showed my mom the pictures (of MY vagina, not the pics on the web). Don’t worry it was zoomed in super close. She said it looked normal, but that there was maybe a little sore or something, confirming that I did indeed have an STD. I got an appointment with my gyno the next day.

I go in and tell them that I believe I have an STD, HPV to be specific, as well as, a genital wart. I then told her that I am concerned my vagina smells and that my labia is too large. I asked if she could check it all out while she was down there. With the bladder issues and past trauma they had to use the pediatric speculum, by the way. That still hurt me.

This woman got in real close and searched the whole situation. She inspected all the caves and caverns. I was very chatty. She was super supportive and reassuring. I told her that I took pictures and asked if she wanted to look at them to see what I was talking about. She told me she was good, as she was looking at my actual vagina. Fair point.

I got an anatomy lesson that day. I do NOT have genital warts. I do have some extra tissue. I do NOT have HPV. My labia is normal, she would not classify it in the large category. My vagina doesn’t smell bad, and I believe her because she was right up in there for a good amount of time. No mask.

All the tests they ran for STD’s came back negative. The only thing that showed up was my E. Coli infection. My pee did smell bad. It was that and not my vagina. The pee most definitely did smell like a barnyard. I’m not kidding. It was potent.

I had to call my ex and embarrassingly admit that he “most likely” did not give me a STD. Then fully admit that I was wrong and jumped the gun. I learned that my vagina is normal. I probably shouldn’t search down there too often as I might scare myself again.

All in all the gyno trip was very informative and eased my anxiety. While I thankfully don’t have any STD’s, I have to admit that I just might be a hypochondriac. Thanks a lot web MD for the stressful information. Who would have thought that you shouldn’t get medical advice from the interwebs? Shocking!