Last Week, Bitches Be Crazy

Last week was one that can totally kiss my ass. Besides dealing with lack of sleep, horrible allergies and migraines due to the weather, other potential health issues, dealing with crazy bitches made me want to hibernate in a dark corner and not speak to anyone – ever! It literally ended with me in tears that I’d been holding back and almost feeling that downward spiral of depression again. I don’t know if it was the full moon that also made people crazy last week, but holy hell, I started having flashbacks to junior high school bullies. I seriously felt attacked for no reason or incredibly stupid reasons that shed some light on how dumb people really are.

I do believe that social isolation brings out the worst in some people. Even people that I used to consider friends showed their batshit-crazy, narcissistic, attention-whore sides that do not deserve a place in my life. That is how my week began – and it happened to be over something completely stupid – a miscommunication in the beginning that turned into something else entirely. Without going into too much detail (because it was SO stupid it truly is a waste of time explaining), a so-called 13-year friendship ended just like that. I wouldn’t consider this person a close friend, but one in which we shared things in common, communicated and vented to each other about our personal problems and issues – the way women friends typically do. Other than that, I can now see that she was more of a “what can someone do for me” type of person. (As a matter of fact, I see this a lot in some of the people that I’ve distanced myself from.) So I asked myself the question, “Am I going to miss this friendship?” It only took me about two whole seconds to conclude that no, I will not, because true friends don’t treat people like they’re disposable over something so incredibly stupid. Besides, she is extremely vengeful with so much negativity and resentment within her, the toxicity looks like a smoking chimney. I don’t need, nor do I care about, being around dark energy, because it’s just gross, and this is also one reason I’ve avoided visiting her in person.

Everyone gets offended by the dumbest shit anymore, and no matter what good intentions are in place, someone will come around and make it into something it’s not without asking for an explanation – just jumping to the worst conclusions their sorry little brains can come up with. Social media is awful like that. There is a Facebook group in which people post crazy/weird things that people are selling, often making fun of things. Some things are truly comical, but other times I think people are just plain mean. A young woman was selling a crocheted item to wear, and there were a lot of body shaming comments. I happened to make the comment that it was cute if you’re a size zero. I wasn’t saying the woman in the photo should be a size zero (she was thin), I had meant it as if I were a size zero, because I have never been that size and not even close to it now. I meant nothing else by it except referring to myself, but oh-my-god! I had numerous notifications from my comment – got slammed for body shaming, called a bitch, told that my attitude was “I am a perfect size zero and everyone else should be too” – all coming from young women that didn’t understand my comment, and when I tried to explain my intention, it only became worse. These ignorant keyboard commandos jumped on the bandwagon just like kids do in middle school, and when I told them all to get a life and blocked them, I got banned from the group. Just like that. I was banned before I could remove myself, which really pissed me off, because I wanted to choose how I left. I had a few conversations with others in which we discussed how some of these Facebook group admins/moderators let everything go to their heads as if their group is really meaningful in the whole scheme of life. No, it’s not, especially when the posts are negative things and makes fun of people. Imagine if these moderators were given actual power in real life – they would fall before they could even rise to the second step of the ladder.

Then on Thursday evening, I noticed something on my leg that hadn’t been there before. It was small and round (about the size of the tip of a felt marker), raised, and appeared blackish. At first, I thought maybe it was a tiny tick or an ingrown hair, and when I squeezed it, blood came out. I was Facetiming with my daughter and showed it to her, and she freaked out saying that it was melanoma. I had to view it under a magnifying glass, and when compared to photos online of melanoma, it did appear very similar to skin cancer, so I was very worried.

The following morning, I emailed my doctor (a new one the VA assigned that I haven’t yet met). Instead of calling me, I received an email that I was being given yet another round of antibiotics – the second time in a couple of months this same doctor has prescribed them without seeing me in person and not actually needing them. I thought maybe they mixed me up with someone else, because antibiotics obviously don’t treat melanoma, and I needed to be seen. I emailed again asking what they were for, and I was told for a tick bite. Since it wasn’t the first or second time miscommunication via email with the VA clinic has happened, I questioned as to whether or not they were thoroughly reading what I sent and said I’m not taking another round of antibiotics, because I was just on them (also still causing stomach issues and depression). I attempted to call as to have better communication, was sent to the wrong line, stood on hold forever, called back and no one answered at all, which is typical of the VA system.

Well, I guess my email struck a nerve, because I finally got a call from the doctor completely bitching me out for questioning her reading my emails thoroughly. When I attempted telling her I think they mixed me up with someone else, called and couldn’t get through, she raised her voice and spoke over me that I didn’t explain myself, that nothing is wrong with the system (total bullshit!). While she was yelling at me on the phone, I raised my own voice and said, “I’m not going to argue with you, I know what I said in my email,” and she kept going. I came very close to hanging up on her and stopped listening. Shut down and felt helpless.

I was already upset from having a shitty week, not sleeping or feeling well, and worried I might have skin cancer, and for her to speak to me like garbage brought me to tears. She basically called me a liar, claimed I said nothing in my email about melanoma nor did I request to be seen, and I when I tried to say something must be wrong with the email system, she told me it was my fault, that it must be me and not the VA! Yes, that’s what she said, and I couldn’t believe it! Oh-my-fucking-god, you bet your ass I almost completely lost it on this woman! (I don’t know how long she’s been working for the VA clinic, but she’s not going to last long with that shitty attitude!)

I mean, it’s even in my “sent” folder for fuck sakes, and it literally reads in the subject line “Appointment: melanoma” with the attached photo – and shows as being “read.” She claimed she didn’t see melanoma anywhere, did not see where I requested to be seen, and did not receive a photo, and I told her the VA needs to update their system and fix it, because I know what I sent. She finally calmed down and said the clerks would need to call me to schedule the appointment to be seen. I get to meet her next week, and I’m not looking forward to it. I swear, if she says or does one thing during that appointment that I don’t like, I will get up and leave and request a different doctor and report her, because nobody deserves to be treated that way. I hate the fact that the doctor I’ve been seeing for two years is gone and I’m stuck with whomever they have available.

Later that evening, I ended up not sleeping again. It was the night of the full moon, and I was feeling extremely emotional. I had a really good, long cry, and it was what I needed, because I tend to hold things in until I explode. And then I slept. Hard. But at least I felt better.

Mindset & Changes

The past two days I felt great – allergies were minimal, not really much pain except when my Yeti cup fell on my foot and I thought I broke it (it’s fine now), slept pretty good even though still a little tired. I managed to go kayaking for the first time since last summer, got too much sun. Yesterday I managed to do a lot of other house cleaning that most of us tend to ignore. Been eating fairly healthy, took a walk on the beach… and today I feel like total shit again. I’m achy, allergies are horrible, my head aches to the point it’s difficult to concentrate – like I have bands wrapped around my head, squeezing it… and when I feel this way, I’m not in a good mood at all. It’s extremely difficult feeling like total shit and trying to be happy or even content. To only feel good two or three days a week just plain sucks, and I don’t know what else to do anymore. It is terribly difficult to function and feel hopeful like this.

This is what happens to me all the time. I start to finally get on a roll of doing better, than bam… I’m brought back down again. It’s extremely discouraging to have a good outlook on life when you cannot even predict any given day of the week. There are many things I need and want to write about, but my head can’t focus on much of anything. I just applied for a new job that was referred to me by someone else that is doing very well during this pandemic, so I’m hoping that will at least bring some financial relief.

I’ve been working on a lot of things mentally. About two weeks ago, something within me kind of snapped, and I decided that I have absolutely outgrown this town I’ve lived in for 14 years. It was like I woke up one day and said nope, this isn’t for me. I’m over it for sure now. The changes that are happening here aren’t what I want in my life. The majority of people are too small-minded and uneducated for my interest, and it’s either time for me to find somewhere else to call home or travel enough so that I don’t notice it as much. I have struggled here for too long to continue trying to make it happen, because I’ve done nothing but waste my time. The money I make to keep a roof over my head has nothing to do with living here (it’s remote), and the other jobs here I can do pretty much anywhere.

But I don’t want just a job. I want something that I enjoy and look forward to going to every day. I love project based jobs, which is what I’m good at, and what I’ve been doing for several years. Although they can be inconsistent at times, they are flexible, which is how I like things to be. Sitting in an office or a classroom from 9-5 doesn’t suit me whatsoever. Being indoors constantly causes me so much anxiety I literally get ill. I don’t know exactly what it is I will be doing in the future, but it will be something that is meant for me. I have been meditating, and I feel something is out there for me, and it will come up unexpectedly – an offer I can’t refuse that I will absolutely love. I don’t know why I feel this, but maybe I think it’s time for the universe to finally present to me what I’ve been searching for the last 20 years and place me around legitimate work with legitimate people that will appreciate what I have to offer.

With that being said, either this job will require me to travel and allow me to keep my current apartment and lifestyle – OR it will bring me to a new place that will either be better or similar to where I am now. I don’t know when this will happen, but my mind has set it in motion. I’m ready for a better life.

No Coronavirus, but Still in Quarantine

Today is the first day I’ve felt mostly normal in two weeks. I’ve been cooped up in my house with a head cold and back injury all at once. The head cold is pretty much gone, but allergies are really bad right now, so sometimes it’s hard to tell what is what. One thing definitely caused by allergies when I go outside is my throat closing up to the point that I nearly lost my voice. I’m just trying to determine what is actually going to kill me in the long run.

Two weeks ago I hurt my back from picking up a bag of soil and twisting at the same time. It became progressively worse to the point that I could barely walk, could hardly bend, and doing daily tasks have been extremely difficult. Today I managed to do very little of an online yoga class, because spasms took over. Not only am I frustrated, because I cannot physically do what I need to, but the head cold and medication cause mental blockage to the point I can’t concentrate. Now I am two weeks behind in getting anything done, which exacerbates anxiety.

The only time I’ve been in this much pain is right after a major surgery – and yes, it hurt that bad. I guess I’m used to healing quickly and getting back to normal life, except this time it ain’t happening on my terms. It hasn’t even been a year yet since I had the first surgery and not even 6 months since the last one, so my body’s healing ability has been in overdrive, and I’m sure getting older has a lot to do with that. This is another reason I’ve chosen to socially distance myself, because I’m more prone to catching something, and I’ll be damned if some batshit virus is going to take me out.

With all of that going on, insomnia kicks in when I’m in pain. I literally had to roll over to get myself out of bed, because sitting up was not an option. I’ve been taking 600 mg of ibuprofen, but I don’t think it works well. Muscle relaxers help a little to sleep, but otherwise they make my head feel loopy.

The pain was the exact same way I felt right after surgery, when the CO2 gas was working its way upwards out of my body. I cannot imagine living like that for long, because it’s pretty excruciating. I am not rested well, which of course isn’t helping the healing process, and having a head cold on top of it makes it slower to heal. I’ve been going to bed at a reasonable hour and waking up around midnight or other early a.m. hours, unable to get back to sleep for a few hours at a time. Sometimes I don’t get to sleep until the sun is coming up, so my entire morning is screwed up.

I know I’ve been dreaming a lot, and I should be writing them down. Last night I finally slept decently and dreamt. But now for the life of me, I cannot remember what the dreams were about. Right now I wish I had someone to rub my feet, feed me, and tell me I’m pretty. HA! Wishful thinking.

All Frogs and No Princes

Last night I noticed a frog in my bathroom. He was quite large, and it was getting late, so I left him alone figuring he’d find his way out eventually. Then I forgot about all about him. Around 2 a.m., I heard a knocking or thumping sound, checked to see if anyone was at my door. Nothing in sight, I went back to bed. This morning I heard another knocking at my back door, got up and saw it was the frog trying to make his way out. Later on, I noticed my bathroom mirror had little marks all over it, which were his tiny little footprints. I suppose that’s what I was hearing at 2 a.m.

Frog symbolism means a few things – particularly transformation, since it goes through different stages of metamorphosis. I suppose this resonates with me, body, mind and soul, because of currently going through all three of those changes.

I realize I need to take better care of my body, because I’m not getting any younger, and I don’t heal as quickly as I used to. Allergies have been worse over the years, so cutting out certain things is something I need to try to build up my immune system again. A few weeks ago I went to my doctor to discuss some changes that didn’t seem normal to me; however, she told me these things are normal as women age. I said, “So basically, women have nothing to look forward to in life?” – because that’s exactly how I felt. She said pretty much – we go through a series of changes throughout our lives and always seem to have issues. What the fuck.

Meditation has helped me in the past, but a problem I have is when the routine is disrupted. I started meditating regularly several years ago and not only did I notice a huge difference in how I felt, I manifested things that I never imagined possible. Then my life picked up and changed dramatically, and I had difficulty getting back into it. It probably didn’t help that my partner didn’t meditate or have any interest in my spirituality (at that point I realized we had nothing in common, which was spiritually draining). I started meditating again recently, but something interrupted my daily routine, and I stopped. I kick myself for doing this!

Spiritually, I feel that I’m changing again, and I’m aware that I need to make a lot of changes. When I was younger, I would set my mind to something and just go for it, no matter what. I’m not exactly sure what happened, but I stopped having goals except for getting through each day and making rent each month, and my focus was completely off. I’m sure my health issues had a lot to do with that, but I think they’re manageable now, and keeping toxic assholes out of my life certainly helps! I pretty much gave up my dreams in life for various reasons, but now I’m ready to make things happen again. Perhaps I should make a vision board so I can better focus and meditate on what I have always dreamed of in life.

A last note on frogs – I am utterly bored out of my mind with online dating, like usual. I still have my POF profile, and since I was traveling recently, decided to change my location to see what options were out there. It seems like all frogs and no princes. I have no desire to converse with anyone that messages me, no profiles stick out for me, and organically, no one in my area interests me whatsoever. I suppose this is also part of my spiritual growth.

Saying Bye-Bye to People Pleasing

I was reading a young woman’s blog post about her being a people pleaser, and it’s something that came up as a topic in one of my counseling sessions last year. I believe the discussion had to do with staying in relationships longer than I should, because I didn’t want to hurt the other person. I feel that’s what you do with the people you love, whether it’s a romantic relationship or a friendship. I was always taught to stick through things, even when you’re miserable, because things will eventually work out. I’m not sure that’s accurate, because it’s never worked!

That’s when my counselor told me I was a people pleaser. Although I’d never really thought of myself as one, it makes sense as to what I have experienced in all types of relationships. I am slowly learning and making changes, but undoing something you’ve been doing for most of your life isn’t easy! I recall finding myself catering to men I dated without getting anything in return – often hosting, cooking, cleaning up everything – you name it. What the fuck was I thinking? As far as friends go, I would be a shoulder to cry on, but when it was my turn, those same people weren’t there. The thing is – I enjoyed doing that for someone I cared about or loved. I treat the people I care about the way I want to be treated, even if I am being taken advantage of, and I’ve had enough of that shit!

I resonate with most of this article from Psychology Today, “Are you a people pleaser?” Neglecting myself by serving others’ needs before my own? Check. Fear of rejection? Check. Resentment when I don’t feel appreciated or feel like I’m giving more than the other person? Check. This is another thing I have to work on, because being taken advantage of is a really awful feeling. Usually, once I realize someone is taking advantage of me, it’s a little late and a lot of resentment has built up by that point – and once I get to that point, I’m over the relationship. But I’d rather see the signs prior to that point.

I do believe I’ve gotten better over time, especially the last couple of years in romantic relationships, friends, and jobs. Now I don’t feel the need to make dinner for a man to please him if he doesn’t do something in return, and I’ve limited friendships with people that haven’t been there during times of need. Unless I’m working for myself, when it comes to jobs, I do what is in the job description and nothing more. There is no need to burn myself out again trying to please others that will do nothing more than move on to the next person when I stop giving.

Depression and Antibiotics Linked

The other day I recalled reading something about intestinal flora and moods, and the possibility that an imbalance can cause depression. For me, this would make a lot of sense. Two years ago I had pneumonia and was on some really strong antibiotics. In the past year, from surgeries and other illnesses, I have been on antibiotics five times! This would explain my lack of appetite and food craving changes, not to mention the constant influx of depression.

During my research, I learned that the first antidepressant was an antibiotic, back in the days when tuberculosis was a big thing. The next thing I learned was that antibiotics can affect a child’s brain development. There have also been studies that antibiotics may contribute to types of psychosis and is associated with anxiety and depression. Due to antibiotics killing off all of the bacteria in the body (both good and bad), it really messes with the good bacteria responsible for sending signals to the brain.

I truly think this is another link between the horrible and constant depression I’ve experienced over the last couple of years, mostly because I just don’t feel like the same person I did three years ago. It was easy for me to bounce back out of anything, especially a relationship gone awry.

I have noticed that I definitely feel better both physically and mentally when I ingest probiotics regularly. Besides taking probiotic oral supplements, I make kombucha, which is a natural probiotic drink. However, I haven’t made any in the past few weeks and have been relying on the probiotic capsule. Now that I’m finally off antibiotics again, I’m going to continue with probiotics and see how this fairs with my mental health.

Touch Starvation & Depression

Something I was reading about that makes total sense to me is that “touch starvation” can lead to depression, and I fit the category 110%. Affectionate human touch is essential to connecting with others, as it stimulates oxytocin, the love hormone that reduces stress and pain, helps with emotional well-being, and naturally increases overall physical health. An article from Psychology Today reports that “Lack of physical affection can actually kill babies.”

So if touch starvation can kill infants, what does it do to adults? Studies have shown adults that lack affectionate touch are inclined to be more depressed, have anxiety issues, are lonelier, and have an increased chance of developing Alzheimer’s. Somehow deep inside, I know all of these things, because I can feel it. Sometimes I feel that I’m fucked, and I will probably die at an early age. And to drive the anxiety level up, my fear is to die alone, like one of those people found weeks later with her cats gnawing at her dead body.

I come from a family that didn’t hug much or showed very little physical affection towards each other, so I’ve never been a touchy-feely type of person unless I’m in love. I recall being forced to hug strangers in church when I was a kid, and I absolutely despised it to the point it sometimes made me sick to my stomach. For all I knew, I was hugging some pedophile hiding under the guise of being a godly person. Since I also feel people’s energy, hugging those with bad or “off” energy doesn’t work for me, as I tend to “catch and carry” whatever it is they have. I have experienced my fair share of “bad” touch, which is an entirely different topic, but I wonder if it makes a person unresponsive to any sort of touch?

Experience has taught me that invited touch (i.e. cuddles, massage) from the opposite sex often leads to unwanted and uninvited touch or forces me to do something I’m not ready for, another double-edged sword that can screw up a person’s mind and make them fearful of intimate physical touch. It takes me a while to fully trust in someone, but at the same time, I have also gone full force too soon trusting those that ultimately hurt me. When I meet someone that can respect my boundaries, that’s when the trust begins. As soon as someone breaks trust in any way (physical or emotional), their touch repulses me, and it never comes back, which brings me to this:

A few male friends have almost crossed boundaries, which makes me not want to hang out with them anymore. Usually, drinking is involved, and when I am just friends with someone that has a few drinks and suddenly finds his hand touching my knee uninvitedly or arm around the back of my chair in public as if we’re a couple, it turns me off. My body language is very clear about what I invite into my space, so if I want a man, he will know it. When I don’t, my body language will say it, but I have to realize a lot of people don’t know how to read body language.

The other evening when I had sushi with a new male friend/acquaintance, I was not turned towards him or gave him any indication I was interested in anything more than friendship and conversation; however, towards the end he ended up sitting closer to me as if we were on a date, and his body language said the opposite of what I wanted. Just because a man pays for my meal and a couple of drinks doesn’t give him the right to disrespect my physical space and boundaries. If my female friends paid the tab, they wouldn’t try to make out with me, so why do men think it’s okay? It’s NOT.

On the opposite spectrum, my ex was super needy and touchy-feely to the point that I felt suffocated. Too much touch is just that – too much. I’m not the type of person that can give another person that much attention; otherwise, I’d have had more children. A healthy balance is nice, and it’s what I had with OC, and I haven’t experienced that since.

Being an introvert probably doesn’t help with my situation, because I expose myself to far less people than an extrovert would. Massages help tremendously when I can afford to have one, and I notice a huge difference in how I feel afterwards, not just physically but mentally. Sometimes it’s the only human touch I get for months. How pathetic that I have to pay for it. At least I have a cat, because touching pets does help, plus he has great unconditional loving energy. However, I truly miss being cuddled by a human, especially on cold or rainy nights. No wonder I’m a fucked up, depressed mess. Maybe I should get more cats.

Cutting Back on Alcohol

A few weeks or so ago, I’d written about changing some things in my life. Today is Day 20 of no drinking/cutting back on alcohol. It was something I intended to do, but the losing my shit incident was a catalyst.

I started out being on antibiotics, which was a great way to begin my not-drinking voyage. I have to admit the first few days were tough, because I’d been working outside in the heat, and beer sounded great, but I knew the medication would have made me sick anyway.

Once I got through the first week, it wasn’t so bad. I started keeping myself busy working out or taking walks in the evenings. I went grocery shopping and ran errands during the times I would normally have gone to happy hour. It probably helped that I didn’t exactly have the money to be going out.

Week two was a success, however, I thought I would feel better. I haven’t felt that much better except that I didn’t have hangovers. I was tired, but in a different way; I felt exhausted. My appetite began to change, and I was cooking again, and I had more motivation mentally and could think clearer. Still, I had no energy for the most part (could very well have been due to the antibiotics). The weather brought on some allergy issues, and it felt as if fibromyalgia was full-blown for a few days. My body was super achy from head to toe, and I remembered that when I drank beer, the aches would disappear. I did notice anxiety went down a little while I wasn’t drinking, maybe because I was just exhausted. My mood was only slightly lifted, but I was still feeling depressed. Perhaps it was lack of human contact or something else, but I was craving not being depressed, which is part of the reason I quit/cut back on drinking.

On Day 15, the weather was pretty bad. I had one beer in the fridge (one that I normally wouldn’t drink, because it would have been gone by now) that I drank and didn’t really care for it. The following day (16), I met up with some friends that are getting married soon to discuss some things about their wedding that I’m shooting. It was nice getting out of the house for once and home by 10:30. I had three beers in two and a half hours, felt high as a kite, and felt like shit the entire next day. Two of the beers were relatively normal in alcohol content, but the first may have been almost like drinking two. I remembered how much I hated waking up feeling completely unrested, having to get up to pee at wee hours, thirsty and unable to get back to sleep, and basically being unable to fully function intellectually with unclear thinking skills the following day. I also noticed my allergies were worse. Three beers was almost nothing for me before; it only took two weeks for that effect.

When the weekend rolled around, I went to an event out of town, and then a new friend/acquaintance offered to meet up for sushi. At first, I was hesitant being unfamiliar with him, but I was hungry, and the timing was perfect. I started out drinking water, had a tiny bit of sake and opted for a beer that I normally really like. However, I wasn’t liking the beer much at all and switched it to something sweet. It was nice to be out having conversation and a meal with someone, and I left feeling generally content, yet tired.

The following day, I noticed my mood was off. I felt sad, even though it was a nice day. (I suppose I could have also been sad about my other male friend.) Again, my energy was low and I had little motivation, but I didn’t feel like I had a hangover or anything. I was burping up the beer the next day, which made me not want to drink it even more, especially after nearly 12 hours passed since I’d drank it… just gross. I felt annoyed all day and canceled plans to go to an art event, because I didn’t want to be around people. I don’t know if this is a result from drinking or just being tired or annoyed.

Doing two experiments of having a few drinks after not drinking showed me that it really doesn’t bring me any happiness, especially the following day. Socially, it can be fun, but I am pretty sure I can find other fun things to do.

People were asking how long I was going to stop drinking. I never had an answer, because I tried to make realistic expectations and just go with the flow with how I felt. I have no cravings to continue doing it, and after feeling as bad as I have been, I don’t looking forward to it again. Eventually, I want to get back into eating a stricter diet, but for now I’m doing one thing at a time; I’m still enjoying chocolate chip cookies for now.

Getting Rejected by Male Friends

There’s a reason why heterosexual men and women cannot just be friends: sex. Even when sex is not involved, once the man realizes he’s not going to get anywhere with the woman sexually, he either ditches the friendship or remains very distant.

I met someone last summer that was a very good friend to me. He was there for me when no one else was when I had my surgery and helped me tremendously, more than anyone in my family or circle of friends. He fixed my car for free and refused to take payment. I felt comfortable enough with and trusted him enough to share things that I’d never told anyone else. We didn’t have much in common, but sometimes we’d have dinner or drinks together. Our communication was pretty much daily, and it was nice knowing someone cared. But I noticed something changed shortly after my surgery and then again recently.

Once I was on my way to recovering from surgery, I saw less and less of my male friend. I know he had a bunch of his own things going on; from a friendship standpoint, I was available for him emotionally if he needed me. But apparently, he didn’t need me. Each time I offered to make dinner for him in return of the favors he’d done for me, he declined. At some point, I told him I was going to stop asking, because I can’t keep setting myself up for rejection. His communication became less and less, and I let him know that I felt that he was avoiding me, and I wanted to know why. He gave excuses about working a lot, being busy, dealing with stuff. Okay, I get that, but I also felt it was just excuses and that he was blowing me off. After all, we went from hanging out 3-4x a week to maybe once a week or every other week. I figured maybe he’d started seeing someone, but he swore that wasn’t the case.

One of the things in the back of my mind is that he knew that due to the surgery, I was unable to have sex for a long period of time, so maybe that’s why he wasn’t pursuing the friendship. When I’d brought this up to him, he denied it and continued saying he was just busy. After healing from surgery and being medically cleared for normal activity, he found some time to hang out again, and he kept asking me when I was okay to go back to regular activity again. I knew he was referring to sexual activity, and medically, I was approved, but mentally and physically, I wasn’t ready.

When the holidays came around, my male friend was busy with family, so I barely heard from him and only saw him once – and it was the last time I saw him. This is about the time the friendship seemed to have completely changed. It was clear to me that he wanted to fuck, and even though my body wanted to, I physically could not due to other medical issues I was having. Mentally, I still couldn’t handle it at the time, and I didn’t want to get my feelings involved for the wrong reasons with someone that also isn’t emotionally available.

I told my male friend that I can only be friends with him, because I am going through my own shit, I knew he was going through his. I reminded him that he’s completely emotionally unavailable, and he treats me no different than he does his other friends, so I’m not about to have sex with someone that puts me on the same level as everyone else. This incident happened between Christmas and the new year. Since, I only hear from my friend when I initiate the conversation, and he hasn’t invited me to do anything at all. A week or so ago I was running errands near his house, so I asked what he was up to; he usually tells me to stop by and say hi. He didn’t. He hasn’t even initiated a hello or anything, which makes me feel like he only wanted to hang out thinking he was going to get laid, and that makes me feel like shit.

I sent my friend some messages about trying to arrange fixing my car again, because we’ve been discussing it for several months. He ignored my message and other regular ones I’d sent, but he had time to post shit on social media. When he eventually answered me, I felt he was being standoffish. So today, I finally sent him a message saying, “Look, I don’t know if you’re seeing somebody or something but you don’t even say hi to me anymore unless I initiate the conversation. I haven’t seen you literally since last year. I know you’re busy and all but I feel like something has changed between us. I almost feel like I’m bothering you by even asking you anything.” So far… crickets.

This is the type of behavior that men display that makes me not want to bother becoming friends with straight men anymore, because it’s a double edged sword. Just because I’m not going to have sex with someone doesn’t mean we can’t be friends and we can’t hang out, that we can’t eat meals together like normal friends. It’s really hurtful to gain trust in someone that was once so helpful, then just drops off the radar when he knows he can’t have sex with me. It’s really hurtful to continue being rejected by people that only want to be friends under certain conditions.

Lack of Sex & Depression

Yesterday I wrote about eating alone and depression, realizing that I need some social interaction during meals. While still attempting to get to the root of my own depression, I realize that when I am having regular sex, I am a much happier person. I sleep better, eat healthier, feel more energized, and for whatever reason, I think more clearly and get more things accomplished, and I generally feel alive all over. I cannot remember the last time I felt that way. (Oh wait, yes I can – two and a half years ago. *cringe*)

I did some research on depression and lack of sex. Not surprisingly, it turns out there is a correlation between the two. The hormones released during sex help with fighting off stress, pain, and illness – all of which I’ve been dealing with. There are other physical bodily results from lack of sex that made me say WTF! For women: “Without regular intercourse, your vagina can tighten and its tissues can get thinner and be more likely to get injured, tear, or even bleed during sex.” Whoa. This would explain some things.

During the last three years of my marriage, we had sex once a year, and I didn’t consider myself depressed at the time, but looking back, I probably was. Prior to those three years, sex was dull; even though he was happy and thought it was great, it was boring for me, because he was boring and insisted he knew what he was doing when he did not. Except for a couple of short term relationships (2-3 months) in the past six years, I haven’t had regular sex at all. I miss being held, being close to someone, and having someone to care about. I haven’t had good sex or even a good kiss in over a year. No wonder I’m depressed and pissed off about everything.

Solo isn’t cutting it anymore. I’m not desperate enough to have a fling, but dammit, my body is telling me it needs some attention. Prior to the past year, I would have been open to a friend with benefits situation, but that’s not going to work for me now. I tend to get my feelings involved for the wrong reasons, and having sex only increases those feelings – and I certainly don’t need to put myself in another situation that makes me feel shitty. And despite some of the terrible things I’ve written that have happened to me, I am very aware of my sexuality, and I have no hang-ups enjoying intercourse with the right person. The issue is finding that person.

Snail Slime and Self-Protection

A few weeks ago, a snail was crawling up the window of my door, which was an unusual thing to see. A big believer of signs and symbols, I looked up the meaning of the snail. It turns out that I learned something new – snails have two different types of slime; one type is for movement, and the other is for protection… and snails secrete a substance to create their own shell.

I had to reflect on this snail discovery, as I am often told that I’m very guarded. When I’m in a new place or around new people, I typically observe; it’s important to know my surroundings before participating. Maybe that’s why a lot of people initially think that I’m quiet and guarded when they first meet me; this has been said to me since I was a child. I never understood what people meant, because I feel that I’m friendly and cordial with people. I suppose being guarded had to do with my upbringing of always having to protect myself from one thing or another. If you’ve been a follower long enough and/or read my books, you’ll understand that statement (or you can read excerpts here).

I feel that the snail was a sign for me to watch myself, my surroundings and the things that I was doing. I was drinking too much over the holidays and not protecting myself from sickness and toxic, slimy people. In the end, all of it literally made me ill. It was a sign to move on, move away from these people and protect not only my physical body, but my emotional and mental state. I realize snail slime is the only slime I need in my life.

New Year Not As Planned

So far, my new year hasn’t gone as planned whatsoever. I was attempting to focus on healing physically and emotionally, and I was determined to get it right this time. I’ve started working out again – yoga, long walks, and my first bike ride in months.

On New Year’s Day, I was recovering from lack of sleep, taking it easy and getting some work done on my laptop. A “friend” stopped by after drinking a bottle of vodka (I wasn’t aware at the time how much) and got on my nerves like most drunks do before she passed out while I babysat her. I had some cards and a book by Shannon Kaiser that I wanted to work with, and when I showed her, she laughed. I was not amused, and I sent her home. I don’t need anyone getting in my way of my healing/recovery. I just want to be happy, because being depressed is no way to feel.

Same friend also talked me into trying Facebook dating, which has also been a waste of time like all of the dating sites. One match has no vehicle. Another one has no time. What the fuck. Why be on there? I don’t need a penpal. Said friend tells me I need to be more open minded about meeting men. Just because she matches with a shit ton of men doesn’t mean I’m closed minded about who I meet. I’m just careful, I have standards about spending quality time with quality people, and I’m not looking to date multiple men. It would be nice to find just one with an actual brain (and a vehicle), but I’m not holding my breath.

I have an upper respiratory/cold that started just around New Year’s Eve and has gotten progressively worse. Last night I was up coughing most of the night, which of course, disturbed my much needed sleep, which caused me to sleep later, and I missed important phone calls from my doctor. The other day I had some pain and bleeding as if I’d started my period, even though I no longer have a uterus. So now I have another doctor’s appointment to see what’s going on, and I’m afraid I’m going to need yet another surgery. I don’t start another job for at least 3 more weeks, but if I have to have another surgery, I won’t be going.

The other night, I was talked into going out, even though I told myself I would stay in. I should have listened to myself instead of other people, but I figured it was the weekend and just one more time out before I start a new week. My ride left, and when I went to take an Uber, my phone completely died on me. No one was around, and it was late, and I ended up walking five miles to my house.

I realize I need to completely change my circle of friends and my habits if I want to heal properly. Since the holidays, I drank way too much alcohol, and I need to find alternative things to do, even if I do it alone, because ultimately I’m alone anyway. A healthier lifestyle is what I want for myself, which means I need to find people that are like-minded.

End of Year Brain Dump 2019

I’ve been struggling a lot emotionally lately. I don’t know if it’s the holidays or a combination of things that have kicked in, things that have triggered PTSD, anxiety, and depression back full force, causing me to lose sleep and lose my appetite again. I seemed to have been doing fine up until about a month ago. I need to get back to counseling, but I don’t have my next appointment until the end of January.

What changed? Some of my habits changed. Since the holidays are here, I’ve been going out more, which means drinking more, which has brought up some suppressed feelings about things I wasn’t ready to deal with before. Suddenly, I’m aware of things that I don’t want to think about, but I’m unsure what to do with these feelings.

Major anxiety and depression has my mind going back and forth, creating stories that don’t exist (this is where I need to put them into a fiction story just to get it out), and I can’t focus on anything. I haven’t been this bad in two years. My appetite has changed. I don’t have much of one, and I don’t know if it’s due to stress (I tend to not eat when I’m stressed) or other things that I’m allowing to bother me. Perhaps it’s hormonal, but I don’t think this is.

Holidays. Parts of my family do not get along or speak to each other anymore, which makes it difficult on everyone trying to get together. It also makes it sad for the rest of us. Being single once again during the holidays is also taxing, kicking in reminders of how our society views women as failures for being single at all.

All of this reminds me of when I was a senior in high school when my first boyfriend cheated on me and dumped me without telling me. I was devastated. I have that same gut anxiety feeling right now. I remember then that I couldn’t eat and couldn’t sleep, but I rode my bike a lot just to let out some physical angst. The only thing different is that I’m in my 40s, haven’t been working out, and I have more life experience. So why is this awful feeling coming back? Triggers.

I suppose I need to learn to recognize what really triggers all of this, but I’m thinking it probably has a lot to do with abandonment issues and feelings of lack of love and trust from people that I’ve loved and I thought loved me, too. At this point, do I even know what love is, because what I thought was love apparently was not. Hmmm….

Recovery After Laparoscopic Hysterectomy by a Robot

Nearly two weeks ago, I was lying on a surgical table, belly bloated with CO2 gas, head tilted towards the floor, legs in stirrups, with a robotic laparoscope inserted in 4 different places in my abdomen. The thought of it sounds like a sci-fi movie, and I only wish I’d had a photo of the position I was in just for laughs.

When I was awakened after the surgery, I didn’t feel too much pain at the time. I was still high on anesthesia and whatever other pain meds they pumped into my system intravenously, but all I wanted to do was sleep it off. The nurse put me in a corner station, saying it should be quiet for me there. Shortly after, I felt like I was going to vomit, mainly because the assistants outside of the curtain were talking loudly and banging around and talking on their phones. Seriously! I wanted to yell, “Library voices!!” But I didn’t even have the strength.

The nausea worsened with the noise, and the doctors said if I vomited, they would have to keep me overnight. I wasn’t about to stay overnight, because I was an hour from my house, and no one wanted to make the drive again the following day. Once I got my stomach to settle down a bit, I got my bag of meds and left for home. All I wanted to do was lay down and sleep off the anesthesia and meds. But that didn’t happen.

As soon as I lay my head down on my couch, my neighbor started the lawnmower right next to my door and windows by the room I was in. Noise and movement is what made me want to vomit in the first place, and I was beginning to get a migraine from it all. Not only was I annoyed, I was feeling really awful. The nausea, the headache, and now the pain meds were really wearing off.

Later that evening a friend came over to help me. At some point I did start puking, and the excruciating pain from the CO2 gas started. If you’ve never experienced that pain (I have before but not to this extent), it can be compared to the feeling of having a heart attack, because the gas is pressing on the diaphragm, and you feel like you’re being suffocated. The best way I can describe it is it’s as if someone is nailing railroad spikes directly down into your shoulders. Or it’s like having labor in your shoulders. Add puking to that and you just feel like you’re dying worse than any flu x10. Since I couldn’t keep anything down, I couldn’t take anymore pain meds. This went on all night. So there I was in excruciating pain on Night One without any rest whatsoever.2

The following day I slept very little, still in pain. Same story for Night Two – no sleep, and no amount of pain medicine helped (I was given Tramadol, because I requested NO opioids, which make me sick). I had stopped puking, however, but I had no appetite and couldn’t eat more than a bite or two of toast or crackers and some fluids. In fact, I didn’t eat more than three to four bites of anything for a couple of days.

Then came Nights Three and Four. I started to finally rest a little bit, but because I had been in so much pain, it didn’t occur to me to take my temperature. I’d been running a fever, and that lasted for the next two or three days/nights. I was to call the hospital if it went over 101, which it was, but I’m stubborn and decided to try some Tylenol instead. It worked, and the only thing about having a fever is that it actually made me sleep quite a bit. Once the fever broke and I started feeling better, I tried eating soup. (At that point I’d only had crackers, toast and water.) Again, three or four bites and I was full.

Day Six is when the other pain started – back pain, which I suspect was a result of being tossed around during surgery. It felt like a pinch that a chiropractor could fix, but I couldn’t go to a chiro. I had only been given 3 days of pain meds, and I spent the next two nights in more pain and literally awake the entire night until 4 or 5 a.m. Nothing I did helped the pain. By then I was about to lose it. Pain, lack of sleep, lack of nutrition = meltdown. I spent a lot of time crying, which was a bit of a release.

By Day Seven, I threw in the towel. I had a friend bring me some beer, drank more than I should have, but slept the night away. Paid for it by sitting on the toilet the entire next day, but at least I slept. Now I am on week 2 and still trying to get my body back on a regular schedule. Sleep pattern is all over the place. I eat maybe one full meal a day, but other than that small meals throughout the day. As for pain, it’s pretty much gone, but I do feel tender and sensitive at the incision areas and some of my insides. My stomach muscles feel weak, as expected, and I can’t wait to be able to go back to yoga class. Tomorrow I go for my first post-op visit.

In the meantime, I’m not supposed to lift more than 10 pounds, do any type of housecleaning (yeah right), and for now I haven’t been driving yet. This is definitely taking a lot longer than I had expected. I’m just anxious for the rewards of never having a period or a PAP again!

Depression and B-12 Deficiency

The other day when I posted this blog about how horrible I was feeling, I felt slightly better after writing it. However, slightly isn’t enough to get out of a deep, dark funk. That same day, I had also taken my monthly B-12 shot, which usually helps with energy if nothing more, but it takes a good day or so to really be felt in my system.

It’s abnormal for me to walk around crying and unable to function or cope with everyday life, and it happens suddenly and spirals out of control. I am extremely self-aware of how my body feels and how my mind is affected. I feel dazed, unable to concentrate, extremely depressed and anxious, and extremely hopeless in a tunnel without any light. It’s a terrible way to feel. This is what depression feels like to me.

On August 26, I had my pre-op bloodwork done, and some things came back as “low”. I had to google the jargon to figure out what it meant, and it seems that both lack of iron (I have anemia) and B-12 are the culprits here. I am convinced that the lack of B-12 is why my depression gets really bad like it did the other day, because I can easily control the iron deficiency with a pill. These were my results:

After doing some research and also being extremely aware of my body and the things it does, I am convinced that much of my depression is due to a B-12 deficiency. Two days after taking my shot, I felt like a different person – like a cloud has lifted. Today, I feel even better. But this is only temporary, because my body tends to use the B-12 quickly.

Unfortunately, I am only prescribed one shot of B-12 a month, and even though I take oral B-12 as well, it’s not enough. I eat enough foods with B-12 also, so for whatever reason, my body just doesn’t keep this supplement. I contacted my doctor about the bloodwork and my concerns, but I have yet to hear back from her. It’s been 3 days, which I feel is too long to wait when I’m feeling helpless. The last time I told my doctor I think I need the shots more often, she said my bloodwork was fine. Well, duh, it’s fine right after I take the shot up until about 2-3 weeks later. By the third week, I’m low again, which is when they should be testing me. I mean, to me, it’s just common fucking sense!

The doctor also told me this – which I don’t believe, and think she confused B-12 with iron supplements – that too much B-12 isn’t good for me. Total b.s.! I have researched very reputable references that say the complete opposite. Yes, too much iron can harm you, but not B-12.

And here’s another issue – I email the doctor, because it’s usually easier to communicate, but it’s the nurse that generally answers. There have been times the nurse has confused communication to the point that I’ve given up going back and forth. Today I emailed again about my concern, since I hadn’t heard from my doctor. The nurse answers me and asks where I’m getting the B-12 injections, because my records are showing it’s a provider outside the VA healthcare system. WHAT!!!???!!!

OMFG, are you kidding me!! I do not have a provider outside the VA, because if I did, I wouldn’t be emailing about a fucking vitamin that I need to function; I’d be contacting a doctor that wouldn’t think twice about giving me a prescription for it. Jesus Christ! I’m not asking for pain medicine; I’m asking for a harmless supplement so I don’t kill myself! Is this why so many veterans don’t use their medical benefits, and is this why so many veterans are committing suicide? It’s simple shit like this that can drive a person absolutely batshit crazy.

This time I cannot give up. This is my mental health we’re talking about here, and if I need an extra shot a month, then I should get it. I see that I can get it online cheaper for a pet than for a human, even though it’s the same damn thing, and I can get it without a prescription. More total b.s., but I may have to do just that. It shouldn’t be this difficult to solve a simple solution!

After 40, a vagina is worthless?

Good Lord above.

I watched an episode of Dr. Oz about vaginas. They explained how a woman’s vagina in their 20’s and 30’s is still in good shape. But in your 40s, it becomes dry and fragile and useless.

What. The. Frig.

I think my vagina works just fine. I mean, not that I put it to use much, but when I do, it seems to work pretty damn good. At least that’s what I’ve been told.

Now the uterus – that’s another story altogether. No need for that anymore, since I’m not using it, and all it does is cause pain and problems and screw up my life several days a month.

But my vagina, my vagina is still good.

Life After a Hysteroscopy

I haven’t been writing much. I’ve been thinking about writing a lot lately, but just haven’t gotten around to doing it. I really need to force myself to do it, since it’s basically a form of therapy and a release of toxins in my brain. But I did another brain dump in May and never bothered to type it up to post it. And here it is…

I’ve had a lot to think about lately. A LOT. Had the surgery. Hysteroscopy. Biopsy. NO CANCER! Yes! That was a relief. And for whatever reason, I’ve gotten my sex drive back. I suppose not being in constant pain helps that. But still, for four or five weeks I wasn’t allowed to go swimming, take baths, or put anything into my vagina. So you can imagine how happy I am that those times are over and I can at least use my vibrator again… which seems to be partly broken and eating batteries like crazy. Bummer.

All of that gave me a lot of downtime. And downtime means I’m thinking A LOT. Too much. I already tend to worry too much over shit that shouldn’t matter or hasn’t happened. Anxiety has taken over a bit, so I decided to really get back into some art and creative writing rather than journaling. Been keeping to myself a lot. That helps, but too much time alone indoors makes me batshit. Trying to spend “mental time” at the beach as often as I can, even if it’s only for an hour. Reading a lot of books, too. Maybe I’ll review a few.

I wished I liked those bubbly flavored spiked seltzers more, but I still prefer the flavor of beer. Maybe because it’s make with real shit, not some fake flavoring. Anyway, I’m gaining weight from it. I’m sure my hormonal changes aren’t helping. Besides feeling bloated and looking more my age, I almost don’t even care if I get fat. But then again, none of my clothes are fitting, so that is a problem.

And then I’ve been thinking very hard about the people I allow into my life. People often say that I’m hard to get to know. But if I don’t feel the need to get to know them, or for whatever reason don’t trust that person, they won’t have the chance to get to know me. I feel that people that truly want to get to know me will recognize who I am by my writing, art, and spending quality time with me. Time is very important to me. I prefer to use mine alone rather than someone I don’t want to be near.

With that being said, I realize the majority of men I’ve dated did not deserve my time and attention – because they didn’t take the time to get to know me; they were too busy trying to fuck me and/or play my emotions. It’s difficult even being friends with men if they act that way. And then I have the tendency to give second chances, try to work things out that never will, feel sorry for someone (usually why I stay in something longer than I should). Basically, I’ve been dating below me. As in – I have something to offer them, but they have nothing to offer me except issues. So why do I bother? Is it loneliness?

I have to keep occupied, away from fucktards, and find the person I lost long ago – Me.