The significant other is out of town for 5 days and I have to say, I am quite liking it. Not that I don't adore him, and sometimes feel like squishing him all up so that I can hold all of him in one hand and smother him and love him and call him my very own, but there is something absolutely delightful about not shaving my legs for four days.
I hate shaving my legs.
I've never even seen my underarm hair grown in, but that is a different story. It is close. It is a much smaller percentage of my total body surface area. I don't even have to look at the area, darnit, it is just a few swipes and I'm done. The leg hair however? Hoo Boy. I've gone entire seasons without shaving it at all. It is so freeing and comfortable to let the little fellas grow in. If it weren't so ugly I would totally never shave again. Alas, even we blondes have to shave our legs; so tomorrow the hair must go before I go to pick up the boy from the airport.
I've caught up on reading, watched a bit of TV, gone lingerie shopping (that, I'm afraid, is a post for another time once my eyesight fully returns and I stop involuntarily screaming. I'm sure with time and therapy the PTSD and flashbacks will fade), had lunch with friends and allowed laundry to form dangerously high piles all over my living room. At least I sorted the laundry, now, if it would just evolve sentient thought and walk itself into the washer, I mean, I can't be expected to do everything.
I thought that in the boy's absence I'd finally have time to scrub my bathroom floor, do a good grocery shopping trip, clean like crazy, iron my sheets and plan out my whole packing for our upcoming trip. Such things did not happen. I may not allow him to see my apartment tomorrow evening. Apparently when I stop shaving my legs I also stop doing things like dishes and vacuuming and laundry. Who knew that an obnoxious task that I abhor is actually the crux of my productivity?
Maybe I can make him take a solo vacation again in the future. This time was work related so maybe I could encourage him to take on more challenges at work. That way I will have another few days to lay around my house like a slob, watching dirt breed, and unintentionally exfoliating my bed sheets with my legs.
It's a good thing he can't see me while he is gone.
Thursday, September 18, 2008
Monday, September 15, 2008
27
Lordy how long has it been?
The last 5 months have been quite…delightful. And by that I mean, Thank whatever there is to thank that I get to wake up everyday and breathe and exist and be. I think I’ve gone all tree hugging and hippie-fied on you: Perhaps the meaning of life is simply to live it.
I have nothing profound to say about nearly dying from a ruptured ulcer on my intestines. I can write something funny about how I scheduled a whole day to myself to flip the ever living hell out and how my mind split into two distinct and competing places: First, I should just say fuck all and jet off to a beach somewhere because life is freaky and precious and small and I could be gone tomorrow so screw bills and debt and the trappings that smother us all. Second: I should stay here and really, finally, get all my crap together because if I do die who wants to sort through piles of size four clothing that won’t fit me until I’ve decomposed for at least a year and stacks of financial papers?
I’ve compromised a bit on both, first by actively trying to live every moment in the moment every day (this is fun when you have the right attitude, and not all hard and scary like your brain tries to trick you into thinking) and I’m also cleaning out all the crap I’ve accumulated and trying to make the stuff I will keep organized. There might even be a novel somewhere if I piece together the bits of binder paper and receipts I’ve scribbled things on over the years, but it will take much time to get it all in one place.
My recent birthday, unlike pretty much every single birthday since I was 9, didn’t shake me up quite as much this year. I don’t know if it has as much to do with the fact that I am so damn happy to be alive so much as there is an imperceptible line it seems I have crossed and suddenly I feel no pressure. I turned 27 just a few days ago. Somehow my brain is no longer concerned with my weight or my career progress or the fact that I make no money, own no house, and will be paying on my car long after my great grandchildren have come and gone.
No, instead, it is as though there was some imaginary age line that I had to be successful by and since it didn’t happen my brain just decided to give up, and I don’t mean give up in a bad way, I just mean that since the goals weren’t met by a designated time my internal psycho clock of doom has shrugged off and gone away. “You’re too old”, my brain seems to say, “and we are over it, so we are gone now”. My insecurities no longer want me to weigh double digits and compete with 19 year olds. My failure meter suddenly seized up and isn’t screaming at me every second of every damn day. “So what?” My brain seems so to say, “you didn’t make it so we are gone now”.
It is really, very nice.
I also suspect that is has something with the last vestiges of youth falling away. It is as though I only conceived of ever being in my early 20s and therefore had to cram all success and perfection into those years because there was nothing beyond. I had envisioned nothing for myself in this time and therefore have no crazy standard to live up to. I don’t know if perhaps months of heavy painkillers has finally doped out my brain to such a point that it doesn’t function right anymore or if maybe, just maybe, I’m finally learning to relax and let go, but it is a strange feeling to wake up and think “Hey, I’m okay” and have that be okay.
Bah. Enough introspection. I am still dating the very nice boy who took me to the hospital so many months ago when I thought I just had a very bad stomach flu and didn’t realize that I kept passing out from pain. The very nice boy and I are taking a tropical vacation, my first ever!, in three weeks and though it would be nice to have dropped, oh, say, 15 pounds, that isn’t going to happen and I don’t care. (fear ye not, I have supplemental medical insurance just for this trip)
Work is fine. It pays almost all the bills, nearly every month, and it isn’t giving me another ulcer. Being in that I no longer control the internet access like I did at my old job (working just three doors down from HELL with horrid, crazy people for no money at all), I am unable to blog from work, which, let’s be frank, is the best time to post. I’m freshest in the morning and who doesn’t love to pound out a good entry before the day really gets going?
The other problem is that my co-workers here are not the troglodytes of the past who didn’t even understand email, these people read blogs, and I fear the day when one of them, or the boyfriend, finds said blog. Because YES, judge away, the boyfriend does not know about said blog and nor will he, perhaps ever. Some things have to be anonymous, ya know?
I don’t know how or what 27 is supposed to look like, dress like, or act. But it feels good. Good and old and rather scary with responsibility at the same time. But it feels mature and assured and pressure free. I even had low lights put in my naturally blonde hair which darkened it considerably, which to a normal person may not sound like much but to me was a big change. I like it darker, it makes me happy, and screw it if my mother hates it. I’m a grown adult woman and I’m alive. ALIVE.
Do you understand how neat that is?
The last 5 months have been quite…delightful. And by that I mean, Thank whatever there is to thank that I get to wake up everyday and breathe and exist and be. I think I’ve gone all tree hugging and hippie-fied on you: Perhaps the meaning of life is simply to live it.
I have nothing profound to say about nearly dying from a ruptured ulcer on my intestines. I can write something funny about how I scheduled a whole day to myself to flip the ever living hell out and how my mind split into two distinct and competing places: First, I should just say fuck all and jet off to a beach somewhere because life is freaky and precious and small and I could be gone tomorrow so screw bills and debt and the trappings that smother us all. Second: I should stay here and really, finally, get all my crap together because if I do die who wants to sort through piles of size four clothing that won’t fit me until I’ve decomposed for at least a year and stacks of financial papers?
I’ve compromised a bit on both, first by actively trying to live every moment in the moment every day (this is fun when you have the right attitude, and not all hard and scary like your brain tries to trick you into thinking) and I’m also cleaning out all the crap I’ve accumulated and trying to make the stuff I will keep organized. There might even be a novel somewhere if I piece together the bits of binder paper and receipts I’ve scribbled things on over the years, but it will take much time to get it all in one place.
My recent birthday, unlike pretty much every single birthday since I was 9, didn’t shake me up quite as much this year. I don’t know if it has as much to do with the fact that I am so damn happy to be alive so much as there is an imperceptible line it seems I have crossed and suddenly I feel no pressure. I turned 27 just a few days ago. Somehow my brain is no longer concerned with my weight or my career progress or the fact that I make no money, own no house, and will be paying on my car long after my great grandchildren have come and gone.
No, instead, it is as though there was some imaginary age line that I had to be successful by and since it didn’t happen my brain just decided to give up, and I don’t mean give up in a bad way, I just mean that since the goals weren’t met by a designated time my internal psycho clock of doom has shrugged off and gone away. “You’re too old”, my brain seems to say, “and we are over it, so we are gone now”. My insecurities no longer want me to weigh double digits and compete with 19 year olds. My failure meter suddenly seized up and isn’t screaming at me every second of every damn day. “So what?” My brain seems so to say, “you didn’t make it so we are gone now”.
It is really, very nice.
I also suspect that is has something with the last vestiges of youth falling away. It is as though I only conceived of ever being in my early 20s and therefore had to cram all success and perfection into those years because there was nothing beyond. I had envisioned nothing for myself in this time and therefore have no crazy standard to live up to. I don’t know if perhaps months of heavy painkillers has finally doped out my brain to such a point that it doesn’t function right anymore or if maybe, just maybe, I’m finally learning to relax and let go, but it is a strange feeling to wake up and think “Hey, I’m okay” and have that be okay.
Bah. Enough introspection. I am still dating the very nice boy who took me to the hospital so many months ago when I thought I just had a very bad stomach flu and didn’t realize that I kept passing out from pain. The very nice boy and I are taking a tropical vacation, my first ever!, in three weeks and though it would be nice to have dropped, oh, say, 15 pounds, that isn’t going to happen and I don’t care. (fear ye not, I have supplemental medical insurance just for this trip)
Work is fine. It pays almost all the bills, nearly every month, and it isn’t giving me another ulcer. Being in that I no longer control the internet access like I did at my old job (working just three doors down from HELL with horrid, crazy people for no money at all), I am unable to blog from work, which, let’s be frank, is the best time to post. I’m freshest in the morning and who doesn’t love to pound out a good entry before the day really gets going?
The other problem is that my co-workers here are not the troglodytes of the past who didn’t even understand email, these people read blogs, and I fear the day when one of them, or the boyfriend, finds said blog. Because YES, judge away, the boyfriend does not know about said blog and nor will he, perhaps ever. Some things have to be anonymous, ya know?
I don’t know how or what 27 is supposed to look like, dress like, or act. But it feels good. Good and old and rather scary with responsibility at the same time. But it feels mature and assured and pressure free. I even had low lights put in my naturally blonde hair which darkened it considerably, which to a normal person may not sound like much but to me was a big change. I like it darker, it makes me happy, and screw it if my mother hates it. I’m a grown adult woman and I’m alive. ALIVE.
Do you understand how neat that is?
Saturday, August 23, 2008
How many more titles can I make called Yes I Am Still Here?
Am. So. Tired.
But still alive, so NOTHING to complain about.
My guts are still in a tumble, and my belly is still swollen and sticking out, but if the inflammation goes down more I may avoid surgery. My energy levels are still incredibly low, yes, even lower than when I am going through a depressive episode, but since I can attribute it to something I am taking it marginally better.
My neck hurts. Always. And if I don't pay attention and wind up guarding it my back pain winds up excrutiatingly bad. 6 days out of 7 I have a pretty good attitude about constant, ridiculous, ongoing pain but by day 7 I'm not so optimistic, especially since I can't take the edge off with any painkillers (hello ulcer) and drinking is not an option (what am I, really stupid?) and I can't just run my head into a wall to knock myself out (that would exacerbate the neck injury, me thinks).
My birthday is coming up so of course I'm getting all introspective and miserable. This health chapter of my life started the end of April and has eaten up four months of my time. I always get down on myself this time of year and not really doing anything for so a long time has left me antsy. Where is my "career" going? Why is it so hard to find decent friends? Why did I make it another year still being 20 lbs overweight? WHAT THE HELL AM I DOING WITH MY LIFE?
What the hell indeed.
Tonight I am sitting home alone because I am too tired to even attempt to find someone to do something with and instead I am probably going to fall asleep while the sun is still out only to wake up to back and neck spasms at which time I will watch basic cable infomercials until I fall asleep again. But even for all of this I cannot stress enough: I am still alive. And that is very, very good.
But still alive, so NOTHING to complain about.
My guts are still in a tumble, and my belly is still swollen and sticking out, but if the inflammation goes down more I may avoid surgery. My energy levels are still incredibly low, yes, even lower than when I am going through a depressive episode, but since I can attribute it to something I am taking it marginally better.
My neck hurts. Always. And if I don't pay attention and wind up guarding it my back pain winds up excrutiatingly bad. 6 days out of 7 I have a pretty good attitude about constant, ridiculous, ongoing pain but by day 7 I'm not so optimistic, especially since I can't take the edge off with any painkillers (hello ulcer) and drinking is not an option (what am I, really stupid?) and I can't just run my head into a wall to knock myself out (that would exacerbate the neck injury, me thinks).
My birthday is coming up so of course I'm getting all introspective and miserable. This health chapter of my life started the end of April and has eaten up four months of my time. I always get down on myself this time of year and not really doing anything for so a long time has left me antsy. Where is my "career" going? Why is it so hard to find decent friends? Why did I make it another year still being 20 lbs overweight? WHAT THE HELL AM I DOING WITH MY LIFE?
What the hell indeed.
Tonight I am sitting home alone because I am too tired to even attempt to find someone to do something with and instead I am probably going to fall asleep while the sun is still out only to wake up to back and neck spasms at which time I will watch basic cable infomercials until I fall asleep again. But even for all of this I cannot stress enough: I am still alive. And that is very, very good.
Tuesday, July 29, 2008
One down, just a few more to go
Skin cancer cells are only pre cancerous and fully treatable. I go back in in three weeks.
August 7 I know what kind of surgery I need and how long the recovery will be for my twisted intestines and ulcer.
Thank you for the kind words and support.
August 7 I know what kind of surgery I need and how long the recovery will be for my twisted intestines and ulcer.
Thank you for the kind words and support.
Saturday, July 5, 2008
Good Grief
The Good:
I'm still alive (this has much importance later, see below)
I'm still employed
I have a car that starts every day
I'm dating
My apartment has managed to stay some semblance of clean for several months
The Bad:
We lost my Grandmother on May 8,2008.
The next day I nearly died in the hospital. If my boyfriend hadn't been there to drag me to the ER when I passed out from pain I wouldn't be here today.
My intestines twisted and ruptured. I had a firm 80% chance of death. I am currently a mass of swollen scar tissue in my abdomin and I need major surgery soon. The reason I didn't take the emergency surgery they tried to give me in the hospital is a long and convoluted tale based on them not being clear about what was wrong with me and me being so high on morphine and thowing up everywhere that I begged off for just a couple of hours because I wanted to understand what they were saying.
I am apparently quite lucky to be alive, which I didn't fully know until just this Thursday, when I was tag team berrated by specialists who finally got my damn paperwork (some clerk forgot to send it or something) and I am rather in shock, and scared, because I don't know how I am supposed to process this information.
I greatly tore pretty much everything in the left side of my neck and besides being in constant daily pain I have physical therapy three times a week until hell freezes over and I can't take any pain pills to help.
The intestine rupture prevents me from taking any pain pills to help. My primary doctor asked, after scaring the bejebus out of me, if I was tired all the time. Of course! But I thought it was just being in constant neck and back pain that was wearing me down. Turns out I'm recovering from freaking near death and that, among other little things, takes it's toll on a person.
And suprise! It looks like I may have skin cancer. I get some things biopsied on the 16th of this month. Skin cancer runs in my family.
Could there be anymore?
Sure, but those are the major points.
And my neck is killing me. As always.
I've missed you guys much, and I promise it won't be three months until I write again, but it may be weeks at a time. I need to see more specialists and figure out what they are going to do about this mess, which really is a gigantic stupid mess that makes me even more tired and frustrated on top of everything else.
I could really use a drink right now. Or 10. But since that is out of the question why don't you have a few for me?
Hugs for you all.
I'm still alive (this has much importance later, see below)
I'm still employed
I have a car that starts every day
I'm dating
My apartment has managed to stay some semblance of clean for several months
The Bad:
We lost my Grandmother on May 8,2008.
The next day I nearly died in the hospital. If my boyfriend hadn't been there to drag me to the ER when I passed out from pain I wouldn't be here today.
My intestines twisted and ruptured. I had a firm 80% chance of death. I am currently a mass of swollen scar tissue in my abdomin and I need major surgery soon. The reason I didn't take the emergency surgery they tried to give me in the hospital is a long and convoluted tale based on them not being clear about what was wrong with me and me being so high on morphine and thowing up everywhere that I begged off for just a couple of hours because I wanted to understand what they were saying.
I am apparently quite lucky to be alive, which I didn't fully know until just this Thursday, when I was tag team berrated by specialists who finally got my damn paperwork (some clerk forgot to send it or something) and I am rather in shock, and scared, because I don't know how I am supposed to process this information.
I greatly tore pretty much everything in the left side of my neck and besides being in constant daily pain I have physical therapy three times a week until hell freezes over and I can't take any pain pills to help.
The intestine rupture prevents me from taking any pain pills to help. My primary doctor asked, after scaring the bejebus out of me, if I was tired all the time. Of course! But I thought it was just being in constant neck and back pain that was wearing me down. Turns out I'm recovering from freaking near death and that, among other little things, takes it's toll on a person.
And suprise! It looks like I may have skin cancer. I get some things biopsied on the 16th of this month. Skin cancer runs in my family.
Could there be anymore?
Sure, but those are the major points.
And my neck is killing me. As always.
I've missed you guys much, and I promise it won't be three months until I write again, but it may be weeks at a time. I need to see more specialists and figure out what they are going to do about this mess, which really is a gigantic stupid mess that makes me even more tired and frustrated on top of everything else.
I could really use a drink right now. Or 10. But since that is out of the question why don't you have a few for me?
Hugs for you all.
Sunday, April 20, 2008
This Post Brought to you by...
Vicodin
Muscle Relaxers
Anti-inflamitories
Frozen Bags of Peas
And some massive heartbreak/disappointment
I also have to be quick because I am not supposed to be on the computer (shhhh, don't tell anyone). A couple of weeks ago, while out being social (with people! I know!) I managed to mess my neck up really, really bad. It may have been the wicked awesome dance moves, or the smooch fest with an old flame, or maybe just me having the audacity to move my neck, but I did something bad. I'm still in substantial pain and have missed much work on mandatory bed rest. The massive, major, heartbreaking side affect of all this is that I MISSED THE DAMN LINGERIE SHOW. The pain did not make me cry. The sheer boredom of being trapped alone in my apartment for days on end with nothing but narcotics to keep me company did not make me cry.
But being forced to drop out of the show made me cry.
It will be a couple of weeks before I can post again because I'm still on mandatory no computer use (the angle is bad for my neck) so I won't be able to catch up with all of you for a long time. I miss you all badly. The only words of wisdom I have for you is this: If you ever sign up to be in a lingerie show that you are super phyched up for don't go and fuck your neck up because you will cry for two weeks after the missed show because the opportunity will never again present itself.
Now it is time for more meds and seriously, my neck is spasming. Gah.
I miss you.
Muscle Relaxers
Anti-inflamitories
Frozen Bags of Peas
And some massive heartbreak/disappointment
I also have to be quick because I am not supposed to be on the computer (shhhh, don't tell anyone). A couple of weeks ago, while out being social (with people! I know!) I managed to mess my neck up really, really bad. It may have been the wicked awesome dance moves, or the smooch fest with an old flame, or maybe just me having the audacity to move my neck, but I did something bad. I'm still in substantial pain and have missed much work on mandatory bed rest. The massive, major, heartbreaking side affect of all this is that I MISSED THE DAMN LINGERIE SHOW. The pain did not make me cry. The sheer boredom of being trapped alone in my apartment for days on end with nothing but narcotics to keep me company did not make me cry.
But being forced to drop out of the show made me cry.
It will be a couple of weeks before I can post again because I'm still on mandatory no computer use (the angle is bad for my neck) so I won't be able to catch up with all of you for a long time. I miss you all badly. The only words of wisdom I have for you is this: If you ever sign up to be in a lingerie show that you are super phyched up for don't go and fuck your neck up because you will cry for two weeks after the missed show because the opportunity will never again present itself.
Now it is time for more meds and seriously, my neck is spasming. Gah.
I miss you.
Saturday, March 8, 2008
A porky vacation
I gained 7 pounds in less than a week.
And it was soooooooo worth it.
I pretty much ate my way through my mini-vacation. Almost a full course meal every two hours. Of course there was also the ocean, the comedy show we saw, people watching and more but there was food: Food. Food. Food.
And now I have to pay the price. I need to work out two times a day, everyday, and eat nothing but air and water until april 12th.
Sallyacious and Thelongversion I have to get in a message for you both: Wordpress hates me and has eaten many of my comments after I try to post them. I don't know if it is my computer or what but I'm giving up and just sticking a postit to my computer screen in hopes that it magically finds it way to you.
I'm off to eat another delicious air meal. Kisses.
And it was soooooooo worth it.
I pretty much ate my way through my mini-vacation. Almost a full course meal every two hours. Of course there was also the ocean, the comedy show we saw, people watching and more but there was food: Food. Food. Food.
And now I have to pay the price. I need to work out two times a day, everyday, and eat nothing but air and water until april 12th.
Sallyacious and Thelongversion I have to get in a message for you both: Wordpress hates me and has eaten many of my comments after I try to post them. I don't know if it is my computer or what but I'm giving up and just sticking a postit to my computer screen in hopes that it magically finds it way to you.
I'm off to eat another delicious air meal. Kisses.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
