Frightility Part Deux

 We are IN this. and I should have written sooner if I was going to document this properly, but I didn't and here we are so this might be a two part-er of part 2.

It's literally fine.

So let's begin.

So since we last spoke, I had my egg retrieval, and my transfer and there has been emotions on emotions. 

Also, I am basically a doctor now, because I am going to school for medical coding and ALSO because I give myself so many shots that I should be charging myself a deductible and Tricare should be paying me but that is neither here nor there. 

So we did a couple of weeks of shots to produce more follicles which hold eggs,  the follicles can hold anywhere between 0-2 eggs.  They have you develop more follicles than normal so that way you have the best chances.  Well when I woke up, they had egggstracted 16 eggs, which is incredible.

8 of them made it through the fertilization process and 6 of them made it through the cryopreservation process after developing for more than 5 days, which means they have more likely of a chance surviving because there are a lot of cells. 

So I had 6 Capt America Babies.  

Well during my egg retrieval they had to perform a surgery to make sure I didn't have anything adhering to my uterus which would prevent implanting, so they went in and when they go in to make sure they put more saline in there  which would destroy the embryos, so I had to wait a couple of weeks * a month to be exact, before I could start to prep my body for a FET, aka a Frozen Embryo Transfer.

We did our Frozen Embryo Transfer on Monday Oct 9th.

And you know how I like to keep things super interesting....I decided although advised against.. to do 2 embryos.  Yes, I said that correctly...2.

The reason they usually advise against is because those embryos can, also multiply.  I could have more than 2... but in my heart of hearts I knew that God wanted me to do two. I couldn't stop the force that was coming at me.  Something kept pulling me to do two, so we did two. 

I hope it means something.  I guess I am writing now because between crying every 5 minutes over silly things, and the exhaustion that I am just finally at a point where this is it.

We find out tomorrow morning if I am officially pregnant. And I am honestly so petrified.

I have done everything, absolutely everything in my control to make this happen.. and its now completely out of my hands. I can't take anything I can't do anything at this moment to change the outcome. 

and that terrifies me. 

This is the truest testament of faith that if it is meant to be for us it will be and if it is not then it is not. 

And I have to be okay with that.

I am in completely over my head and I have to be strong regardless of the news tomorrow.  

I really don't know if I am more scared that it did take or if it didn't. I really don't know. 

But I do know that I am scared. I do know how I felt went I saw those embryos go in. I do know my husband is the best partner that could ever exist.  

Seriously though. I have been on hormones since August.  I have already shown him so much crazy that its unreal, and he has been patient with me and this has been really hard on the both of us.

I guess I am just so nervous that I don't know how to be right now.  We will find out 15 hours. 

Shit I am losing it. 

Off the wagon? On the wagon? Something about a wagon.......

Well I’m back on my bullshit. I swear I only start writing when I’m close to losing my shit. 

Two weeks ago I decided that I was dying. Knees and Spaghetti style with some mild vomiting.  It was my right side that was in excruciating pain.  

If you’ve been keeping up with my shit then you would be like 

Oh man Kels isnt it usually your left side, and I would say yes yes it is but not this day.  

On God I thought I had appendicitis.  Even FaceTimed or whatever Google’s shit is for the time where I can see your face. And pointed to where it hurt like he is a doctor. 

I finished whatever I was doing (I was going to say doing laundry but I don’t do that, and I was going to say cooking but I definitely don’t do that either, but I was doing something) so I waited a minute to call my sister in law to come snag me to drop me off at the hospital. 

They get me checked in pretty quick.  People have been avoiding the hospital like the plague lately.....

Get it.

Well I hobble in there and I end up knowing the scribe.  Cute little thing. 

We end up loading me up on some pain medication to make sure I start to feel some kind of relief because by this point I’m basically dry heaving. 

Well CT scan shows I had a cyst rupture.  COOL. I tried to explain that me having cyst is so 2013 and that I am not looking for a B2B. 

They can’t do anything for ruptured cysts due to it happening already.  So they load you up on hydros, and morphine and you just head on out.  

It’s wild to me how they do that.  

They don’t tell you its going to hurt for days. But what is pain at this point anyways. Constantly feels like a figment of my imagination.  It’s all in your head. 

I swear there is enough shit in my head. 

I have been trying to maintain that its not a big deal at this point. Chronic pain feels so played out. Can a girl get some Chronic Pleasure, or what ever that type of weed is that I smoke.   

Honestly when I talk or preach or feel anything about it, it feels like a broken record. 

I am supposed to make an appointment to see the ultrasound specialist to check out the ovaries to make sure they are chilling where they are supposed to be and they are not covered in cysts, which hoping they aren’t.  Don’t tell my mom or my roommate that I haven’t made the appointment yet. What are they going tell me.   Let’s getttem gone (I live in Oklahoma thats how everyone talks..I’m kidding...I’m not)

Sounds made up... just like when my roommate told me that your periods don’t control if you like someone or not.... SOUNDS ::claps::MADE::claps:: UP.

Anyways, I am putting it off because I’m in the middle of opening up a restaurant and sound like something I don’t have time or effort for. 

I’ll just do what I’m good at which is burn it off a both ends and become a hermit psychopath.

And I know I’ll be the best kind.  

Loca Loca Loca

I feel fucking crazy.  That's a fact.

Things were getting worse, the pain, the anger, the sadness, the lack of sleep and patience.  I am tired.

But I've been tired.

I really didn't think I needed more help after finding out that Endometriosis was my fate.  I thought I had dealt with my shit pile of cards and things are awesome and I'm going to put my every being into my career.  I'm going to let fate decide my relationship status and I'm good.

then why the fuck am I so angry.

Finally I decided that I'm just not trying to be this person anymore.  My emotions controlled my life. Basically I'm attempting to break up with my anger.  Which He is kind of a douche bag and treats me like shit, so naturally I'm in love with him. 

I decided the best way to break up with my anger was the only plausible decision which was to see a psychiatrist and get better drugs to make me less angry and sad. 

Makes sense.

So ya girl calls Dr. A.  She is in my network...one of the reasons I chose her and Like dude I don't know her.   She can't help me if I'm not honest.  So we Zoom meet which is like the 2020 skype.
And I send her all 45 pages of how I am feeling which  like one question was

"list your traumatic experiences"
And let me tell you nothing gives you PTSD like writing out every single thing you bury so deep to forget but you know that you need to tell her or the anger and sadness doesn't stop.

So you tell her.

We are talking via Zoom because of the Rona and She asks me more questions like my fucking novel that I sent her wasn't sufficient enough to make a diagnosis.

And Dr. A blurts out the most obscene shit I've ever heard.

"Kelsey you are bipolar"
At first I was like excuse me B word you are bipolar... I 1000% thought she was being rude and then I had to remember she is a psychiatrist and like those words actually mean something here.

What.. Bipolar.  I'm not bipolar.  There is no way I am bipolar.  I am not crazy.  I don't have anything wrong with me. I have been just fine.  I don't need this.

bipolar: extreme highs and extreme lows.

fuck I'm bipolar.

She starts listing all the medicines I need to start taking.  I keep it together as she tells me she is calling in my prescriptions.

We hang up and I'm sitting there with myself.  I am bipolar. It felt like a bomb had dropped on me. 
I always thought everyone felt the way that I do about things.

Realizing you are different hurts. You aren't like everyone else.  Your brain isn't right. My brain isn't right.


I have been on these happy pills for 3 weeks now.  So Strange.

My first move was to realize there was something not right and make a change.

There is nothing wrong  with being bipolar,  I am still me. I haven't lost myself. But there are more good days than bad.

It's okay.
My brain isn't right, but it's okay.

I Knew I Was Right

Being told it's all in your head is beyond discouraging.

Makes you doubt yourself and your sanity.

I did for a long time until recently.

On December 20th, I had my first surgery since 2015.  I felt so crazy the last few years with them telling me the pain I felt was a nightmare of never-ending turmoil. 

I was getting trigger points and doing physical therapy.  It always felt like maintenance for something none of us knew about.

I haven't mentioned my surgery on here, yet because I've been scared.  I didn't want to go down that road again of no answers, more doubt, and shame. I haven't known what to say or how to feel. will my story make sense...it doesn't to me so why would anyone else get it .

I know what you are thinking, "Why shame. There is nothing to feel shame for."

I felt alone and empty.  Maybe the pain for years was in my head. Maybe I was overreacting. Maybe I was being a hypochondriac.

This surgery validated my truth.

I was hospitalized 3 times for pain in the last 5 months.  Never any answers.
Just dope her up on some pain meds, that must be why she is here. 

My father and his wonderful amazing friend Dr. B, decided that we can't keep doing this.  They sent me a list of new doctors.  I called all the second on the list.  Dr. C we shall call her.

I pleaded to the nurse on the phone through a soaked face and they got me in so quickly. I knew Nurse R was going to be my saving grace from her concern at my first visit.

The room this time was something from a hoarders episode of all things pink.  It was absolutely frightening, and nothing I wanted to be exposed in.
I have only been in there twice but man just like it's a girl gender reveal threw up all over that room.

Dr. C was stern but kind.  She basically said screw it let's find out.

Scheduled me for surgery two weeks from the date.  This hospital was a little different.  They weren't saying prayers over you before you go in but they do make you feel all warm while you lay there naked.

Life is so out of control sometimes, that it's an honest to God blessing that you have any control ever.
Maybe the color of your hair or the nails on your fingers, or the tattoos on your body, but that inside stuff, nah...
you get what you get and you don't throw a fit.

When I woke up I always worry because out of anesthesia I am a total mess, either mad or sad....
basically it is how ever you are drunk is what the Post-Op nurse told me. 

I was sobbing. Like a little drunk girl who just was broken up with....a total and utter complete mess.
She told me I have endometriosis. 

I knew I was right.

How does one handle that?
How is one supposed to deal with that?

Here is this disease that will have your uterus grow into parts of your body it is not supposed to be and there is no cure but you will be in pain for the rest of your life.

I wasn't crying because I was sad.
I was crying because finally someone heard me screaming my lungs out that something was wrong.
Dr. C heard me.  I thank God for her every single day for hearing me.


It's been a little over 2 months post-op.  My belly button ring closed up again which is annoying, and I have a little scar on top of my C-Section-esque scar. 

I am taking more prescription drugs to numb what was there.  They said it should be at most two years before my next surgery.

Math tells me that's going to be a few surgeries left in my life time.

Sometimes I ask myself was it worth it all knowing what I know now....even though there is nothing I can do...
I would have to say yes, because at least now this demon has a name. Now I won't be told it was in my head. Now it won't hurt me because I know it's real.  Now I won't be sad thinking that I did this to myself.

Overdosing is Less Than Everything Else

Well I never expected it to be this long since I have written.
I have made up every excuse to avoid being vulnerable again or seem like I need a grasp on life or help.
But I think it's time to get back to myself and figure out what I am missing or what I need.
If it sucks it's because it's been too long and I am technically so far out of school that I might not even recall the difference between their, there, and they're...(I'm kidding about that last part. Yikes)

I have been so busy with immersing my every being into my career, to where it is making me bury everything else and now it is biting me in the ass like it always does.
  I have had a lot happen since I have decided to write again. So a recap I guess would serve a purpose because.. well I really don't need an excuse..because this is my story anyways..

I tried the internal shots.
And the first time it was like God had bestowed upon me the feeling of what a pain-free life would look like.
Well that's a stretch...the path is anything less than ideal.

A giant needle penetrating your muscles in your pelvic floor...::no no I don't like that::

It was the worst pain I have ever felt in my entire life. We ended up doing 8 internal shots. Dr. T was putting gauze in places that I didn't think one should put gauze. I started to freak because she was like WE NEED GAUZE, and said it in a urgent manner like she had just cut off a piece of my body. 

 The tears were worth the terror.

I have done 8 rounds of shots. Two internal and 6 external.  I have only done two internal because the first time was awesome but the second time made me so sick. Dr. T shared some dark Dove chocolate to settle my insides. Turns out if you are on your cycle it sends the muscles into shock and causes your body to freak out. And it did.  IT really did.

Dr. T said shots are not a permanent solution and I knew that and she knows that and we all know that, but I was scared for another surgery and scared for the pain and scared for the pills.
But I didn't want to say I wouldn't try.
We discussed changing my medications up. What's ONE more pill.

 I was taking 20mg of Lexapro to manage my anxiety and they decided to switch me over to Cymbalta.  This anti-depressant is also an anti-spasmatic. 

Well in the laws of the drug world you can't stop taking one and start taking another.

You have to ween off that shit.  So we decided to take me down to 10mg of Lexapro for a week, then 10mg with 30mg of Cymbalta, and the 10mg of Lexapro with 60mg of Cymbalta, and let's just say 60mg with 10mg is too many mg for my body.

I overdosed again. 
My muscles were in over drive.  I couldn't stop moving, I  couldn't talk, I hurt all over.  Brandon rushed me to the ER and my heart rate was 170 resting. My blood pressure was through the roof. They admitted me and pumped me with Benadryl and fluids through my arm and instantly was completely drugged up.  No idea what happened and then Brandon took me home.

It was like a dream. I didn't know when I woke up if it happened or not but I did feel like I was hit by an underage drunk driver again. Prying myself out of bed like they pried me out of my vehicle.
 And I went back to work the next day. 
I am back on the Lexapro and feeling better. 

It's dark in life when you mess with something that stabilizes you.

We still don't have a solution, but I guess I'll be getting my next round of shots on the 11th.

Life is crazy sometimes. Depression is real. Confidence and perseverance really are key to creating normalcy in a body that you wish wasn't yours. 

So like what do you do.

I probably haven’t had real bad anxiety in a long time.

Like I had a full blown panic attack when I moved into my new house, where the walls were shutting in and even outside it felt like I was stuck in a seemingly bottomless chasm.

It's so hard to explain this menacing flow of uncertainty.  It was getting to a point where I would just lay in bed thinking of every mistake I have made in the last 20 years.  It's a toxic nightmare that didn't make any sense.

It was an argument with myself.  I would speak out loud to tell the baleful assertions in my head that they were wrong,

I would be proclaiming I am worthy! I am not nothing!

I didn't realize that after everything there would be so much mental pain too. 

The doctors were so adamant about me seeking council to reconcile with myself over the difficulty of my prognosis.  At first I thought they were worried about how I would take not being able to have children and, though difficult, I have found most peace with that.

So why do I have to speak my inner thoughts and desires and take these pills if I am fine.

I didn't realize they could have been betting on the fact that I would need assistance to get through the nights I don't want to go out because of the pain or the constant worry of feeling fat because of the effects this disease has on your body, endo belly..so hot. 

I didn't realize that it would take a toll on my relationships with the inability to be intimate when I want to.

I didn't realize.

It was getting to a point where I was mad at myself and mad at God and why he would make me this defective human. 

I am worthy.  I should feel that way at least.  It's a struggle.  It's sometimes to a point where work takes a toll, home takes a toll, friends take a toll, and it becomes too much.

That was enough. I didn't want to lose it all.  I did something I swore I would never do again.  Because I felt stronger at one point but I was mad, I was getting angry, every trigger would consume me. I was losing my compassion, losing sight, being awful and ugly to everyone around me.  I did it I got on anxiety medication. 

I didn't want to lay in bed for hours feeling so stiff that I couldn't move.  I wanted to take my life back.

I wanted to be kinder to those around me. 

I was nervous about this change.  Before the doctors didn't worry about what it was doing to me.  It was making me a zombie. It literally almost killed me.

But this time was different; I was ready for it.

Did it make me feel like I had succumbed to this feat? Did it feel like I had given up on my own ability to take control of my own life?
Yes it did...at first.  But I have found myself thinking more clearly, not overcome with rage and anxiety.

It was a beautiful moment to feel like I had gained my life back. 
I was worried a lot about the stigma. 

Take your crazy pills Kelsey.

But I am not crazy.  Am I crazy? Maybe, I am crazy.  But it's not crazy to want to take control of your life.

I don't care for the negative connotation of this majestic antidote.
Do I feel like I want to shut myself in my room anymore and wait for a better day?

No.

I took my life back. 

What's Wrong with Your Head.

Mental stability has never been one of my strong suits.

During my high school days I was seeing this psychiatrist, whose name I don't remember for some pills that I can't forget. 

I was going through typical "My parents don't understand me, and I am a failure because of my grades and my need to drink during the school day" high school slump.

I was a typical kid that didn't technically need to be on Lexapro and Paxil.  But I was. 

I stopped taking pills right after high school.

Then proceeded to resume my pill poppin after my 25th birthday.  My docs decided I need them because I couldn't have children.

I was going through the typical "I am unable to bear children, No one understands me.  I have lady parts for no reason and my need to be drunk during the day" mid-twenties slump.

I needed Jesus, not pills.

After my fiasco, where I took too high of a dosage of pills (talked about it "Well That Could Have Been Bad), I decided no more for me.

The only pills I take daily now will be BC, God Bless that baby chewable pill that causes the stopped up drain of what is my "reproductive system"and of course, 800 MG Ibuprofen, famously known as the Holy Grail of tablets, that was placed upon this Earth by the gods to cleanse my soul of the gut-wrenching agnoy that comes with being Kelsey.
#shoutouttomyliver

Well as of late I have not been "allowed" to take Ibuprofen. 
Long story short:
Football, my face, a dudes face, both facing the ball, collision, knocked out, concussion, ER, impact testing fail, memory loss, not better.
Sadly, that is the shortened version.

I apparently I'm not "resting" enough to be better, which sucks but, I am a busy woman, Dr. M. I got my heart and soul into my career and I can't just put it on hold.  I can compromise, but I can't stop.

Dr. M is really nice.  I've seen her twice now.  Her fingers are cold. It's not a bad thing.  She does look familiar, but not in a way that I know her.  Just like it feels, like I have seen her at a coffee shop or something, like 11 years ago.   You know, familiar but, not.

I really hope I don't lose my hair because my head is all lumpy now.  It would look terrible. Like a fused together peanut M&M.  I don't know... maybe that is a terrible explanation, but that's all I got right now, which isn't saying too much.
I don't really "got" a lot right now, except a headache and a need for more sleep.
I guess this is what the Scarecrow felt like. 

You will be just fine.

I've lost touch.

Not on purpose, naturally.  But life gets in the way.
The days turn to weeks and you just forget. 

The reason I started this was to never forget. 

To remember how I felt. How this is my life, not one that I am watching from the outside in silence. I am trying to remember to play an active role in it.

Much has happened. And I'll do a quick recap to not spend hours on it, which I probably will anyways...  So my last published piece was June... An immense amount of things have happened..

Well I fell in love in a hopeless place, B has become this person, my person, in my life that has washed every doubt of inadequacy that I have ever felt in my life away from me in a way that I never thought I could feel or know or be deserving of. 
It has been a beautiful surprise, one that I thought would never exist, but he does and we are here.

Life changes has led me to being back in the service industry, being in management, gross yet yay.  My employees humble me through their strength, love, and ability to persevere through their own personal trials.  It has been not only the biggest headache I have literally ever had, but the most rewarding headache.  I do love them, but don't exactly love waking up at 4:30 AM on purpose...

My health has been better since I'm back on the ole pill.  That majestic pill that stops pregnancy (not mine other peoples), and psycho ass Kelsey.  Who would have thought.
But I know if I have missed it, because I will sit in the car and sob uncontrollably to a video of Mr. Roger's testifying in front of the Senate for more funding for public television from 1969...yo girl chill...
So the pain is better, minus the swelling.  But beggers can't be chosers... 

I hate that saying.

I'm not a raging alcoholic anymore, which is better.. for my liver.... and the bank account.. that also being said when I do have a drink every once in awhile... I'll have a headache for 13 1/2 days. It's literally the worst.  I guess this is 27?

I am trying to be a better person.  Trying to be a better leader.  Trying to show that I am not this unstable little unicorn that I used to be. 

I'm not as good at this as I used to be.  Not as poetic or well-spoken.  And I definitely still don't have it all together. But did we really expect that to happen..

But. I guess what I am trying to say is: I am still alive.  I am going to try to be more consistent, with my stories of meaningful life shit.  Perhaps a decent story every once in a while. 

Like Mr. Rogers and children, but mine will be to adults who need to feel someone gets it.  Because that's what ties most people together; their ability to be understanding and relate.

Really, Where am I at?

I haven't written in awhile because I don't know if I have been sober enough at this time in a long time.  What can I say it helps me sleep.  That's all I want.

But anyways, enough of my debacles of debachery.  A lot has happened since I last recorded events of my life....it's interesting to me for the most part.

I started a ballin job that I love.  I work with basically a bunch of people I went to high school with and now it's like an adventure every day.  I can do what I love and have an adventure..let's go!

I was seeing someone and it was going really great, so naturally it failed miserably, which I should have seen coming, but what can I say.... I try to obtain the unobtainable ::shrugs shoulders::

You guys...I actually made girlfriends..that like me... it's so weird. I mean I love it, but it's the first time where I would actually consider peeing in the same stall as someone.
I mean I am not going to do that because it's still weird but I would consider it.. which is a huge feat.

My family is growing. My older sister had a munchkin.  A real life small person. Leon.  He is so cool.  I thought I was going to be selfishly sad when she had him but I really haven't.. Not for one second did I feel sadness.

I think that's the biggest feat I have defeated thus far through this transition.
I realized that maybe it's really not for me.. at least any time soon. And I am so overjoyed that I am finally okay with that.

Kids might not ever be in the cards for me and I am liberated by the idea of me being completely okay with that.

My brother is getting married to the best girl ever. I couldn't be more excited, I just have to promise to not drink too much at this one.

The only big issue I have had has been health insurance.  I have been off and I need to go to the doctor. I haven't had my trigger point injections in a few month so the pain has gotten unreal.  There has been days of utter agony and discontent, but I must continue to push forward.
There are woman out there who have been through worse and I can get passed this.

I just have to remain strong.  It helps that my support has been unreal.  My best friend Krystina has been my guardian angel and saving grace.  Being able to have someone who understands and has been through that pain and can have your back in a moment of need is unrivaled.

 I could never imagine my life being where it is now.  Which is why I will never say I know who I am.  I have a slow-played process of configuring how my mind works, but it's a never-ending process.  I am a total different person than I am last year and can only assume I will be different next year from who I am now.

If I am the same person, then I am living my life wrong.  I cannot have that.
There is a plan.  I just must figure it out.  But I have plenty of time.
I hope.

Cognitive Dissonance

Cognitive Dissonance: noun

the state of having inconsistent thoughts, beliefs, or attitudes, especially as relating to behavioral decisions and attitude change.

Today is a day that I cannot forget.

I am writing it so late because I wanted to make sure I knew what my thoughts meant and how I feel about today.

One year ago was the surgery that changed my life.

Today-

I was walking through the park with my love Lane, my beautiful dog, that has been their for me as an emotional support throughout my transformation.

As I spoke previously in regards to her, I picked out my Lane during the pinnacle of my break up with my ex that I was living with.

She was suppose to selfishly fill my void of love that I was no longer getting.

Which is crazy now that I think about it because I wasn't actually getting the love I desired/deserved any ways.

But anyways, we were walking through the park on this exquisite afternoon.

79 degrees, sunny, a light breeze; utter transcendence, especially for February.

I began to think about the trees and their existence. It was weird, so I stopped.

I thought about where I was this day last year. I was in a hospital bed.

I remember that this exact moment last year, I was in a hospital bed was so high on morphine that I knew the only thing I needed to do was press the bright green button to make things disappear.

Or at least help forget that I had a catheter in.

As I passed through the trees deep in my thoughts, I looked out on people there at the park. They were running, playing on the play ground, people were laying in hammocks, people were walking their dogs, and people were walking as a family with their babies in strollers.

I thought about them as individuals. Living souls. Students taking a break from class to enjoy a day that could have been stressful due to a test, a young girl going on a run desiring to be skinnier, a man reading on a table trying to find peace.

We all have something in common. We have all different frames of reference. We have all been through something. No one can look at me and see the road I have traveled.

People don't look at me and know my story. And I cannot look at these people and know their stories.

It's impossible.

I could nerd out and look at statistics and say the CDC says nearly 1 in 5 women have been raped so there was at least 5 of us there.

I could say according to the Cancer Research page 50% people will be diagnosed with cancer so that's, at least, 15 people there or someone they know.

Everyone has something. I remember when my biggest problem was, "does this shirt make me look fat"..

I fixate on other things to avoid this.

My favorite book in the whole world was my favorite book long before this. All of this.

The Perks of Being a Wallflower. (Not the movie. I don't even want to talk about that movie)

This book made me feel things that I can never put in my own words. I don't feel like I am clever enough to say the things I feel in a way that is poetic enough to draw justice to the actual feeling.

Through all my feelings today this is how I feel about where I am mentally,

"I think if I ever have kids, and they are upset, I won't tell them that people are starving in China or anything like that because it won't change the fact that they are upset. And even if some one else has it much worse, that doesn't change the fact that you have what you have."

I no longer feel sorry for myself. I did for too long. I have for too long. I do wish things were simple again. Simple, back when walking through the park was a way to get to the swing set and I would just pump my legs up and down and no longer care if I didn't get the job, if he didn't call me back, if I didn't have bills to pay, if I didn't care that she didn't want to be my friend.

I wish that. But you can't go back.

They don't tell you what could happen because, people pray everywhere that it doesn't. But it does.

The best thing you can do is figure out how to swim against the rushing current and pray that you don't drown.

This day has changed me forever. I lost a part of myself, but in return I gained my life. I gained a perspective about others that I never knew existed and when you become less selfish you gain that.

I will never forget today. I will never forget how I felt. I will never forget how I feel. I will never forget what I learned. I will never forget who I lost. I won't ever forget not because I don't want to. It's because I can't forget.

Maybe it is sad that these are now memories. And maybe it's not sad. 

I could eat an M&M out of that.

They never tell you that physical pain takes a toll on the body after a while.

That's the reason they drug you up.  To make you feel that the constant, annoying torture isn't just physical, but it's mental too.

A way to make you feel that the aches, night terrors, and consistent self-doubt is this plaguing misery is all a fabrication in your mind.

When it's an everyday event you feel crazy.  You feel that there is absolutely no way it can be every single day.

Do I look as bad as I feel?  Can people tell?

Can they see that scar I have has lost coloration.  The dent from the steroid shots....  Can they see it?

 I could can fit a M&M in it.  A red one, of course.  I only like red colored candy.  I will eat the other ones, but I don't particularly love it the same.  It's a mental thing, right?

Lately the mirror has been my nemesis.

I will stand there and stare.
Because I am looking for the good.

I have cute toenails. I have always though the shape and size was something of a fetish foot-model status.  I could be wrong,  but I do feel like I have that going for me.

I am in a struggle to get right with Jesus.  Not that I haven't turned my life around for the better. Far less drinking than my previous life, and I have only worn one scandalous shirt in the last 6 months.
But my life has turned into a bad sitcom.

There is a lot of fake laughter, and a farcical screenplay.

I think I just need a change of scenery.  I have lived her for 11 years now.  It's far too long for my liking.  I know it sounds like I am running away.  But I am really not.  I am just playing with the idea of something different.

Like a coast.  I told my mom I should start to do drugs so they can send me to a fabulous coastal rehab facility.
 Don't worry I am not going to actually do that.  I would be a terrible drug addict. 

I just have run into this issue where I put everything and every one else ahead of myself.

Am I cursed because I have been taught to be caring and selfless?

So when others aren't I don't understand and I try to make up for the fact that they aren't.

I can't stop. It leaves me in shambles, but I can't stop.

I am a lover.  I want to be the best person I can be.  I want to be honest, caring, selfless, adventurous, kind, and above all hopeful.  I hope that if I am kind enough it will help anyone treat others better.  With a kindness that is out of character.

I know I can be temperamental. I have no excuse.  Everyone goes through something and I no better nor worse.  I just need to find the strength to face the mental block I have endured.

I have been secretly debating doing a photo shoot that embodies the feeling of this "disease".  You can physically see the scars it has left.  Well not the internal ones but my super sweet dent has been prevalent enough to haunt myself image and why not share it.

I am talking crazy.
At least I can eat an M&M out of that.

Progress, Preparation, and Homemade Kamikazes

So life has returned to a relative normal state.

I am down to going to the doctors once a week to once ever other week, with one of my doctors and once a month with the other.

Yeah yeah yeah.
::does victory dance::

I mean it's pretty exciting.. in comparison to twice a week.

Dr. D she is my physical therapist now... and she told me that my pelvis is calming down...
Goals.  You have to love it when your doctor can track your pelvic muscle on a computer.

I am supposed to go "potty" with a stool now like a 6 year old's who feet can reach the floor...

This is real.  I don't have a stool though.  It really doesn't go with my bathroom decor.  So instead I just try to prop my feet up on the tub, a stall door, toilet paper holder, the wall; really anything that's readily available to me.

You are welcome for that killer visual. 

The shame I have ever had for talking about anything to do with my body is completely gone.
I might still be uncomfortable with the way I look or other things in regards to my physical appearance but, what happens to my body due to this...
Open book.

I don't want people to be scared to talk about what happens to their bodies because it is scary.  It's absolutely terrifying.  Especially when there is nothing about it out there.  People are too worried about what others will think.

Screw it.  This is me.

Here is a minor update in the life of Ole Kels....

Doing real good with the big girl job.
Started seeing this pretty decent individual.
Going to Colorado with the Fam.
I still don't like wheat bread.
I got roofied recently.
My sister is getting married in less than a month.
And I have to make a speech at it...

Okay I might need to address this real quick

So.. I have to give a speech at this wedding.. okay totally cool.. I get it.. It comes with the whole Maid of Honor thing but.... BUT...

I am absolutely horrendous at public speaking..

I black out.. I say even more embarrassing things than I originally was going to do...

and sometimes... just sometimes.. I vomit...

I failed public speaking. And I retook the class and made a D.. this is where we are at.

And yes, I know I can write it down and that would be fine but...

I am dyslexic...  I will butcher the shit out of this speech in a way that will be talked about

for years to come. I literally have no idea what I am going to say either..

Should I start off with a joke? 

How many of ya'll slept with the groom or bride raise your hands?!

No... that would be one step too far. 

Should I make it super serious?

Loving, Giving, Receiving, Sacrifice are components to a lasting relationship.

I mean that is some good stuff but I want them to know it's coming from me not something I found off a Wedding Card from Hallmark. 

Or I could just talk about the first time she helped me put in a tampon.  

It's fine I will figure it out..

Well this concludes another episode of into Kelsey's mind...

My bad, ya'll my bad.

I Might Be Losing It

It's been a little over a month since I have last addressed anything.

My life has gotten into a repetitious agenda, which is the most feared thing in most mid-20 year old's life.

The goals of my future life leave me determined and enraptured into my current lifestyle.

I did go see Dr. P on Tuesday for a morning dose of 17 shots this time around.  She doubled the numbing stuff, and went a little deeper.

And as invigorating as that sounds..it wasn't as refreshing as one would think.
Yet, I didn't cry this time so I feel like I might be growing up.

I have my next appointment with her in two months, which is moderately terrifying because the shots normally wear off around week 3...but I am sure they know what they are doing.

::does extreme eye roll, where it makes me vomit a little::

So one of the requirements before I go back to see Dr. P is to start going to see a counselor.

I am not good at seeing counselors.

All during my senior year of high school I had to see a counselor, and take pills because I was a problem child and my grades were slipping.

I was a rebellious 18 year old girl and I enjoyed the booze a little more than I should have.

I can't remember his name to save my life, but he was a roller derby coach.  Such a strange dude.
I liked him though.

All I did was cry when I went in there.

I am not good about vocalizing how I feel.  I could write a ten page paper about how my emotions compare to a piece of lint out of my favorite denim jeans.  But to talk about it is another story.  I end up tripping over my own words and crying.

And I don't even cry in an attractive way.  There is a lot of heavy breathing and my face swells up.  I have tried to hold back and do the cute single tear, but it never works out.  I end up with snot and mascara all over my face like I had a cold.

So I am nervous about do thing this.  Dr. P said, "I carry all my stress in my back and you carry all your stress in your "oven"......"

what.

She didn't say oven.. She was a bit more colorful. A lot more V's in the word.  It's fine.

I slightly believe this is a way to get away from the known fact that there is not a cure just ways to make life a little more comfortable.

And let me tell you... it's not.

She said she is trying to cleanse my mind, body, and soul.
Which in medical talk is Pills, Shots, and Therapists.

I am not an expert, but they are making me feel crazy.

I know it is healthy to get out what you feel and address the stressors with this form of treatment.  I know I have some pain there,  I know I still mentally hurt.

But I don't think she or he or whoever is going to change that.  I have thought about all of these things in my mind for a long time.

Or maybe it will change and I will magically be better and my pain will go away because the therapist, pills, and shots have up-lifted the pain from my oven and cleansed my body of all the stress, and I can feel normal.

Bring on the baking.
Yeah, I am definitely losing it.

Trial and Error

Well, I did go see that new specialist.

I was absolutely gut-wrenching nervous all the way up until my appointment.

My original doctor, Dr. S, sent me to this new specialist to get a second opinion in regards to my "situation".

This new one seemed nice.  Understanding.   A real go-getter.

This is what happened:

I laid-back in this small office.  The "internal" examination was over and I was feeling more mortified than any other time before.
I was use to examinations.
But not that.
It was the quickest, most invasive exam I have ever had. Rattling off codes like, they are at a convenience store counting snacks.

Well finally the torture was over, the nurse and doctor left me to change.
At this point, I am fully-clothed, alone trying to salvage any piece of dignity I had left.

After several minutes the doctor and nurse return.
This new specialist had come up with a plan.. which has never happened before.
Awesome.  A plan.. finally.

Now, I can quit wondering around in circles hoping someone was going to pull me out of this bottomless chasm.  

She did say that this is all going to be trial and error. That the muscle is my main issue..  The scarring is secondary.  So for the muscle, she told me to think of it like a Charley Horse.  

....A what.  You are telling me that my muscle has been spasming or involuntary contracting for OVER A YEAR.  And there is nothing we can do about that part.  Nothing. Just let it do it's thing.  

A constant Charley Horse... for over a year.... She must be out of her mind.  

So this plan:

First, some kind of numbing trigger point injection shots to my lower abdomen. Cool.

Second, Pills to fix the nerve-endings.  Eh.. Skeptical..

Third,  More physical therapy to strengthen the muscle. Okay I guess the last 12 weeks didn't mean anything

Fourth, surgery to remove access scarring.  I knew this was coming.

So anyways, with the plan underway.. First things first.  A shot.

Well I thought it was going to be A shot. A as in one.  As in singular.  Well that my friend was not the case. 

14.  yes 1-4...10 plus 4  shots in my lower abdomen.  

This needle was no joke.  A concoction of medicinal potions to relax my trigger points.  

Looks like this:

My new doctor prepped the area with a copper-looking solution on the largest Q-tip I had ever seen.  

She covered the whole area a long my scar.   

This shot was supposed to relax the muscles to give me some kind of relief. 

The doctor told me it was time. 

The nurse grabbed my hand.  

As the first shot broke skin and entered my pelvic muscle I felt the water pour out of my eyes. 

I gripped the nurses hands harder.  I couldn't stop it. My ears were becoming clogged with my tears.

When they stopped, I had 10 shots on the left and 4 shots on the right.  They covered the injection points with a neon yellow, and neon orange bandage.
 As if I was going to forget what just happened by covering it up with the coolest bandages I had ever seen.

(I have never shown my scar before on here before today.) 

Those little dots are each an injection point. Cool, huh. 

The visit was over and I had to then proceed down the stair to the pharmacy, for phase Two.  Pills for the nerves.  Remember I had tried this other kind back in December or January that really messed me up... Remember? Well my specialist assured me that this was absolutely nothing like that at all.  

So I believe her...... like an idiot. 

She told me it was going to make me tired.

So I took one 30mg pill as instructed at 21:45-22:00.  It wasn't until 0330, that rest had found me.

I woke up the next morning to a phone call from my mother checking on me after my shots.  I couldn't move.  I don't even remember what we talked about.  I don't remember her coming over.  I don't remember how she got in. 

I don't remember anything.  My eyes were dilated. I felt like I had a lump in my throat. I was gagging and vomiting.  My body felt paralyzed.  

Not again.. not again.  

I called the nurse with no answer.  I emailed the doctor. No answer. 

I knew the only thing I could do is ride the storm out. 

I started to finally feel okay at 16:30.  I don't know what I would have done with out my mom. 

So, Now are still at a standstill. Now we have tried step one and two and they were both nothing but a trial and an error.

I am really trying to be hopeful but it is so hard when it is one fail at a time.  

I see Dr. S next week.  I am hoping for more answers.
I still will be hopeful.

If the sickness doesn't kill me, the medicine sure will. 

Buck-Up ButterCup

Alright... Listen... I have been on this rocky-road of emotions lately.

It's probably my "hypothetical" time of the month... I say hypothetical because I don't really get one of those anymore.... per se... I mean I still am an emotional roller-coaster during that time and things...happen....

I'll let you guess when it is... don't worry I don't know either.
I did have one boyfriend download the "P. Tracker" App... I think he was just as confused when I would cry and laugh all in the same 10 second span.
And he would plead,

"ITS NOT EVEN TIME YET!"

It's fine.
Anyways,  I noticed I get really down about things when I am stressed out.  And telling me to stop stressing out, stresses me out more.

It's like a never-ending circle of awful for myself.

I have gotten a little less crazy with the stress... like I don't pull my eyelashes out anymore... so that's cool.  Well I try not to...

(By the way that's why I wear false eyelashes, sometimes, because it consciously makes me not do it)

Through this new bout of stress, I want to address something.

I have an amazing life.

I really do.  I am doing very well with my job for an amazing company.  I just moved into a house not too long ago.  I just bought a car.  I have an amazing family.  I have a wonderful dog,  And I have some good close friends.

I have so much to be thankful for.

Everyone goes through something.

I do have to go to the doctor all the time which is a little unfortunate, but
I am still breathing.  I could be the opposite of that.
(I'm not trying to jinx myself here)

I get down about trivial things all the time.  But I have to remind myself.

Why? Why are you letting that effect you?

It's easier said than done.

My favorite thing to do is think about the good times, think about plans I have made.. and the goals I have for myself.

If I let the darkness of self-pity run my life, I would kill myself.
I am so much better than that.
I have too much to offer.

Do I love waking up in pain every day? No, I don't love that.
Do I love that I can't get a date because I can't have a family? No, I don't love that. 
Do I love that I have and my family have spent thousands of dollars on medical bills with no change in getting better? No, I don't love that.
Do I love that I cry over stupid things because I can't get my emotions under-control from the hormones I have to take? No, I don't love that.

But I do love waking up every day. And I do love myself despite the flaws.  And I do love my family.
I know the pain gets hard.  I know, God I know.
I wouldn't wish this kind of pain physical or mental on my worst enemy.

But what makes all of this worth it, is the person I have become from it.

I slip up sometimes and have a little too much to drink and cry a lot and I do mean  A LOT.
And call everyone in my family to hear my tears of self-loathing.
But I am trying.

I am finding my way in these twist and turns of fate.
I never thought in a million years would happen to me. 
I would have never guessed it.

And the hardest part of it all is forgiveness.
I am struggling the most with forgiving myself.

I blame myself for this happening. That I went wrong somewhere and that I deserve it.

I have to remind myself when I feel in doubt,

You are good enough.  This is not your fault.  You are strong. 

If I say it enough to myself, I'll believe it.

I feel like I am getting close.

The main thing that gives me hope, and should give you hope is:

You were put on this earth for a reason, find out that reason.  You are handed all these things in life because you are one of the strong ones. You should view this as a challenge and challenge accepted.


Remember that. Never give up hope.

National Infertility Awareness Week

Happy (?) Infertility Awareness Week.

Is that disheartening? I am allowed to say that?  It doesn't feel like a happy time, but it also doesn't feel like a complete sad time either? 

1 in 8 right... 

This is a week that we talk about the problems some of us face.  

or we just don't talk about it in fear of judgment.

I didn't even know this week existed until it directly affected me.

And most days I don't let it.
I am a normal person just like everyone else.

It really does depend on your outlook on the word. Infertile.

I guess, it is one of those things that you should know about.
It could be happening to you and you need to know what to expect.

It's kind of a scary thing.

It's been myself fighting my own view of life.  I was supposed to get married, get a good job, and have a beautiful family.
And that all equals happiness.

I felt I needed to find someone who would kind of love me, and our family would make us whole.  I felt my fertility clock running out and my eggs drying up as the years went by.

I never thought it would happen to me.
I never thought I would have to go through this. 

Especially alone.

Finding out my tubes were blocked was a gift in the strangest form.

A gift telling me life isn't always the perfect idea you created in your mind in the 4th grade.  Everyone has different things they deal with, no infertility story is better or worse.

It makes us human.  It shows us that life is exactly what it is supposed to be.
A rollercoaster.

You can either throw in the towel, marry the first guy who shows you attention, and give up
Or you can realize that when shit hits the fan, it's going to be okay.

I had to get to know myself. You can't begin to heal through this until you find out who you are.  And that might be the scariest thing you can do.  Because what if you don't like that person.  You are stuck with you.

I still don't know if I will have a family, or if I am willing to put my fake future husband through IVF.

But I think out of all the people that this could have happened to.. I am glad it happened to me.
I am glad only for the fact that I can handle it.

I will never throw the towel and give up.
My life is exactly what I allow it to be.

But for those going through the years of trying with your husband, or have a freak situation like mine.
You aren't alone.
It's okay to ask for help.
It's okay to ask questions.

This is a real thing, and it does happen.

I didn't ask the right questions in the beginning because I thought that this impotence made me less of a woman.

It doesn't. I know that now.  It makes me more of one, a warrior, a fighter, an unstoppable being.

Some days are better than others.  Some days feel I have been defeated.

But the brilliant thing about this infertility war we are fighting  is that some battles don't have to be won in order to win the war.

We are human.  We do feel sadness, and a loss of something we never even had. 
But, that's okay because we were the strong ones that can handle it.

Like a beginning intro to Law and Order, we are an elite squad known as the Infertile ones.

And that's okay.
Don't be afraid because our plan may me different but it is ours.

Yearly- Can we switch this to monthly?

I had my scheduled yearly today.
Not that we couldn't have done it the other 50 times I had been there this year.


But naturally, I had missed my beautiful gynecologist, so I didn't object.


It has been one month since my 3 week post-op appointment. 
I was afraid they forgot what my face looked like.  
They didn't.


I scheduled my appointment early because I was feeling 9:15am, a month ago.
This morning, I was not feeling it. 


I woke up at 8:30 and started rushing around because I was less than prepared for anyone to see what was under my very comfortable leopard print pajama bottoms.


I don't even understand why I wear those bottoms. They always make me sweat an uncomfortable amount when I wake up. 


Anyways, I had to dry shave my legs because I was not trying to have Dr. S think I am careless like all of the other patients she has. 
I figured it's like a jubilant surprise to see my young sporty body in comparison to the over-weight, overly hairy yetis that I have seen walk through those doors.
I'm sure they are all very lovely people.


I arrived on time because my loving father let me borrow his vehicle to take the turnpike.  I really need to invest in a pass but, I just come up with too many excuses to break down and get one.
Regardless, I made it on time.  I had to park a mile away because, I have a very tough time parking his vehicle.  It's so large and I normally drive Betty White and she is indestructible and my father can be terrifying so, I would rather keep his objects safer than mine.


Well after my mile, fast-paced walk, and an elevator ride, I made it. 
I didn't even have to sign in.


They took my weight, which I could have told them what it was.  I weigh myself every day. 126. I haven't grown.  I did go to the bathroom before I walked in which was a shame because I had to give a sample.  So I ran some water and sang, Don't go chasing waterfalls, please stick to the rivers and lakes you're used to I know your going to have to your way or nothing at all but I think you're moving too fast, to myself and then magic happened.


They put me back in the room with the horrible picture of a red flower, which in my opinion just looks like an angry vagina.  It makes me have really bad anxiety. Like why would you put that in there.  It's not even like a really great painting. I just don't understand why you would have a red themed room at a gynecology office.


I finally am alone to take my clothes off, all of this time. No shirt allowed. I got this paper vest that I like to wear the opening in the back.  It makes me feel sexy with an exposed back, yet not too sexy because it's a paper shirt.


Dr. S comes on in and sits on the counter and we discuss some medical stuff and then she says to me,


Kelsey, we need to talk....Your blog.  I heard.... you feel broken?  You aren't broken. Just because you don't have your tubes doesn't make you less.  You are still desirable. You will find someone who is willing to take you for all of you.  I know it is hard to do this alone but you are so strong.


I stared at her.


I started tearing up, yet doing my best to hid it.
I have, literally, trusted this woman with my life.
And she told me things that I have heard from so many people. But coming from her was something so life changing.
Maybe it's because she has seen my everything, maybe it's because she has literally cut me open and seen my insides,  maybe it's because she would call me on the weekends when I was so sick to check on me, or maybe it's a combination of everything but, she threw me through a loop.


I was speechless.


She gave me a giant hug.
I needed that hug.  I needed those words from her.


I was so caught up in my feelings that I didn't even realize I was hugging her with only a very thin sheet between her and my nakedness.  
I didn't even care. 


It's so strange how the human mind works.


 My family tells me all the time how beautiful and special I am, and mainly I never consider this because I feel, maybe, they feel an obligation to make me feel better.  And random guys tell me I am pretty but 92% of the time it is because it is their feeble attempt to see me naked.


But, Dr. S; She didn't have to say that. She didn't have to reach out. She has so many other patients, and she actually cares how I view myself.


I'll never forget that moment.


As I was leaving, I said goodbye to everyone and told them I will see them in a year.
They told me they would miss me.




And I knew I would actually miss seeing them too. 

Missed Connection: w4confidence

Despite what you might think.  I am shy. Very shy.


Especially in the beginning.


In the last year I have had a complete rollercoaster of self-image.


This is pretty typical because I am a woman and woman generally are:
1. Self-Conscious
2. Absolutely Insane 


That being said every woman in this world has some serious crazy to her, if she says she doesn't; she is a liar.


Lately, I have felt like an absolute crazy person.


Not a "burn your clothes in the street" crazy because frankly, I don't care enough about someone to do that. 
But a "I cannot bring myself to connect with another person" crazy.

Whether that be a friendship or romantically.


And I know it has to do with my lack of confidence since my surgery. 


I am a hit or miss when it comes to confidence. 


I can look in the mirror one day and think
"dang girl you killin' it today with your fine self"
and the next
"Wow you really need to not wear that. Look at your love-handles.  No one wants to handle that love"


It has been a huge struggle to get past this, and I am not even sure I know how.


I have taken my working out to an extreme that I feel guilty if I don't work out for a certain amount of time, or do a certain number of sets.


I feel guilty eating certain things.


I just feel when I look at myself it is a mess, and that if I can't love it how can someone else.
It's getting so out of control that I have been consuming myself with loneliness.


If I focus on everything else it seems to fade away for a little but, it keeps me up at night. I even find myself doing crunches at 2:00 in the morning.


Don't eat that.
One more lap.
Don't do that.
Stop that.


I know I said before I wouldn't be ashamed of this scar but, I am.


I am ashamed of what it stands for.
I am ashamed of how it looks.
I am ashamed of who it has turned me into. 


This doubt-filled loner.


This all being said...


This all could be a spiraling effect of all my stress.  Consuming me into self-doubt and, maybe, if I was less stressed out with graduation, finding a career, somehow getting 15 years of experience in my field before May, all while making 100,000 dollars, then maybe, just maybe I wouldn't lack self-confidence.


Does that go away with time?


How do I make it stop?


I really don't want to feel this way. So why do I.

Oprah in the Spring

Oh the babies are abundant this time of year. 


All the little gremlins are all making their appearances from those steamy summer nights.


I went to see one of my best girl friends brand new baby today.
I was a little apprehensive at first due to my extreme awkwardness around babies to begin with and that this will be the first baby I've actually seen since the surgery. 


I have no idea how I have done it but I have managed to avoid seeing small people until this day. 
Besides social media exposing every single baby bump, new born, and first walks. 


Anyways, I received a message from one of my other dear friends that I hadn't seen since the summer at her baby shower.  I had yet to meet her new baby; not because I didn't want to but because it's honestly really hard to see something so cool and cute and small; and not feel a sense of sadness and jealousy.


I have said it 100 times; I don't want a baby right now, but it begins to haunt your thoughts when you can't. 


Seriously though, this little 7 month old baby was so cool. I, eventually, built up the courage to hold her.  She was like just making all these noises and yelling, but not because she was upset, but she just wanted to make noise.   It was so strange to hold this little human that has thoughts, and facial expressions.  I normally talk to babies like they are just another person.
Baby S and I talked politics, about the time her mom and I did some reckless nonsense, and then I drove her around the hospital room in the baby burrito holder that the new born baby rolled out on..
And of course, I licked her. 


It's my thing.  All of my friends children I have licked.  It's like a good luck thing.


The usual stuff.


I may or may not have had some expression of feelings with saline like forms of water coming from my eyes.


I'm even worse when it comes to new born babies.  I have no idea how to act around them.  Like they are super, duper small and I am not exactly sure what you are suppose to do with them.


Like am I suppose to do something?


These two girls and I use to hang out frequently before our lives all went in different directions.
That being said all of us could go months with out seeing each other and still have a lot of love for each other.  They are very similar to the person that I am.


I  feel like me in a mom form would be very similar to how they are as parents, which is honestly the strangest thing I have ever seen. 
I never pictured either one of these crazy, wild ones as moms but they are, and they are killing it.


I do feel like my situation is a blessing with in itself.  I have no idea what my plan is in life and that's fine. 


Perhaps, I wasn't meant to be a mom. I am kind of uncomfortable when I am around them.


Which is so strange because I am a woman.  I have the parts of being a woman. I just can't do what women do.


Am I like that Britney Spears song, "I'm Not A Girl, Not Yet A Woman"? 


My older sister use to sing that song to my younger sister, until she started her period..  Then she would tell her she upgraded to a woman. 


I don't even have a period any more.
I mean that's super tight.
But, what does it mean for me?
I am 25 years old.


It's all very perplexing to think about.


And I do think about all these things. More than I should.


It's all so conflicting when I get caught up in my own mind on decisions I will eventually have to make. 


Will I ever even be able to be with someone long enough to be like will you be my baby daddy, or will  I decide to just not do that?


Will I adopt?


Will I try and go through IVF and have a baby?


Will I ask my sister to be my sister wife and carry my baby, and be a surrogate but have the baby call her Aunt-Mom?


Will I say screw it and never have kids?


I mean they are like a lot of responsibility, and I can barely take care of myself.


This is overwhelming.


I really shouldn't write at night.

No Body Left But Me

Every evening I conduct a similar routine.
I come up to my room lay in bed with my extra large heating pad, watching as many episodes of NCIS to become a real Naval Crime Investigator, as possible.
Then, I take a break and take a shower.
I take all of my clothes off and, on a good night, put them in  my dirty-laundry basket.

And then I stare at my body.

It's not an awful body.  I've definitely seen worse at Night Trips, or on PornHub, yet I have, also, seen better. 

I have a proportional body.
If my boobs were any bigger, I wouldn't complain, but I would say I wouldn't be as proportionate.
I have a "athletic" body type.

I had to work to get it there, so I wouldn't be considered fat-skinny anymore.

It's a real thing. Fat-skinny.  It's when you aren't exactly skinny, but too small to call "fat".
It's a weird awkward stage one gets in when they are on the verge of being "unhealthily" large.

I look at every part of my naked body.  The way you study your notes before your mid-term, going over it with a fine-tooth comb.

I have for years, like most girl, tried to come to terms that this is what I have to work with.

I am short, 5'3, which I actually like, shorter than most guys, which weirdly I have something against dating guys shorter than me, it just doesn't do anything for me.

My skin is flawed but, in a way that I can cover if I feel the need.
I have scarring all over from an accident when I was 10.
I fell face-first off a see-saw, while camping in Switzerland, 5 feet in the air and a boulder caught my fall.
I wish I made that up.

My hair grows in thick which at a young age caused me to shave my arms from the bullying of being called "gorilla arms". It doesn't grow back thick, yet I will shave them until the end of time to never have to hear that again.

My muscles have been improving in my legs but, every time I shave my legs I get razor burn.  My legs get so irritated that I try and wait to put lotion on to some how hide it, but it always seems to show. I have tried everything from waiting to shave them, to conditioner, to switching to every type of razor.  I have yet to figure out how but like all things in life, it's a process.

My body is covered in tattoos to try and distract from my imperfection.   And even I get distracted by them sometimes, so they must help.

My neck is long, my mother use to tell me it was like a dancers neck, which helped me with thinking it was weird for my figure.

My stomach will never be flat due to my love of beer, and soda. But the Abs have been trying to come through. I just have to give up the things I love most like: Red Candy. Red Velvet Cake. Cream Cheese.  I can't do it.

I am so distracted by my stomach, as I stare at myself complete exposed.

Each and every scar tells a story; the same story.

I know it's still healing.  But I can't help but stare at this 3 inch line, surrounded by a rainbow of bruising;  the swelling, and protruding lump of stitch, is anything but sexy. 
It mocks me as I stare at it.  Reminding me of what is gone, and what I am left with.

I get in the shower and use my Irish Spring: Signature for Men, Cool Spring.
I have always found that men's body wash smells the best, after as a child using all of my fathers Oak, body wash by Bath and Body Works, when he was deployed.
It, also helps as a good cover up from seeing multiple men at the same time.

That last parts a joke.  I can't even see one person right now, let alone multiple. Let's be real. But, you are welcome for the future cover up, my lady friends.

I get out of the shower and look at myself one more time.
 It always looks a little better wet and bright red, from the scolding showers I take. And , also, with my head tilted, and one eye closed, like I am trying to drunk text.

I need to give this more time, but I can't help but think of how far I have tried to come and that this is what I have to show. 
My rawest form makes me cry.

I feel for the most part I have been so strong about all of this dealing with everything.
And I have never 100% felt comfortable in my own skin.

But my self-esteem and self-confidence has never been to this level. Even when I have been turned down, after asking a guy out, this is a new low. 

I joke about everything all the time. It really does make things easier, less real, less dramatic, and emotional.  I hate being upset.  And I hate worrying about shit I can't control, so why not make light of it and move on.

But deep down, I am heart-broken.
It might have been easier to loose a finger.
Yet, I think I'd miss my finger too.