Fruitility Journey Part Un.

 I have been honestly debating back and forth on writing about this, but honestly... 

this was the whole point of this...right?   The vulnerability... the honesty.. the actual journey. 

I never thought I would get this far to be fair. 

Well we pulled the trigger so to speak, and decided to do this damn thing.  I am not getting any younger and is there ever really the right time to have a baby. 

I could make 100 excuses of why I am not ready.  But I think the only reason I wouldn't really be ready to do this is the fear that my body would once again let me down and would prove my inadequacy to be abundantly clear to God and everyone.

 But screw it, right?  

Well I have started my journey with a fertility center here in Colorado.  They did this amazing thing here where they have actually made it somewhat affordable. 

I went in for my Baseline at the end of July after our phone consultation, where this guy was like Hey you guys are ideal candidates, which I think really just meant that we could relatively afford it.

The baselines were just hella blood being drawn to see what I needed to start taking or stop taking to get this vessel to start vesseling? 

Guess what mother truckers... I was really worried at 32 that I would not have enough stock or eggies left to do this without worrying and homies... she be fertile as a mother.. literally.  Which is awesome and my hubs swimmers be swimming, so to speak.  So that is amazing news.

I had to go in for a test called a Hysterosonogram.. aka the Balloon Test aka how many things can we fit IN there.. 

Yes IN.

So its a saline ultrasound.  The first put in the speculum, and for all my none ladies reading this that means that cold metal pliers looking device to prop your girl open, and then they put in "a very thin catheter" and if you have been following my story you know my hate/hate relationship with catheters... like no one wants that.  And THEN they pump in saline into the uterine cavity AND THEN they, also, put in the ultrasound probe.. or the vaginal wand or whatever you want to refer to it as to see if there are like any abnormalities such as polyps or really anything that could prevent the embryo from implanting in the uterus. 

I know I basically sound like a doctor. It's crazy, right?

But if you read back on that.. that's too many things going on in there.  Almost got caught up and thought my situation was Mary Poppins' bag, huh?  #metoo  Ooo is that an umbrella.. and a watch.. and oh dang not a Land Rover... all of it. 

Well during the test natch I am extremely uncomfortable.. too many things in there and I am not on Porn Hub, and I am not getting paid for this.. I am paying them to torture me.  BUT anyways, after they put Niagara Falls in there and remove the catheter they should be able to see what's going on in there to make sure is just the best looking Ut out there and low and behold as soon as they removed the catheter my Uterus closed up like a venus fly trap.. couldn't see a damn thing.  Well reported by the very nice tech she said that there might be a polyp, which we will have to surgically remove... stop it.. I can't.

I am hoping it doesn't prolong the process, but it might.  We will have to wait and see until we go in for the egg retrieval, which I will already be put under for.  I am not stressed... I am, also, lying. 

I did get all of my meds in which is probably the most aggressive amount of shit I have ever seen in my entire life.  I believe it ends up being around 90 doses of medicine in roughly 5 days and majority of them are shots.  You know I just love me some needles. 

I will start my injections when I start my cycle.. which should literally be any day now.. if I stop stressing out. Which.. I mean calm? me? ever? Literally no.  

Also, some of the medications expire in 2 weeks.. yes.. expire. The definition of use it or lose it. 

It is a lot. and I mean A LOT. And I have been looking up stats which is like Googling your symptoms...never good.  30%...

Do you realize 30% is like what you get on your SAT if you put your name on the exam.. You don't even have to really try anything to get a 30% on anything.. 

But shit... I mean I have come this far.. and 30% is better than 0% right? 

I don't even know anymore.  I have been praying so much and so hard and have to remember to be patient and remain positive regardless of the storm we are weathering. 

I really am just scared. Very scared.  I want to feel deserving, I want to feel confident, I want to feel hopeful and excited. And I am just so nervous for the shoe to drop and to be devastated.  I am petrified to be excited. 

So I will be waiting for my period to start and in the mean time watch videos of people giving themselves shots subcutaneously. 

Holler. 

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. 

Triggggggered

So I am sitting here after being checked in by the very young and kind front desk lady.  I swear the vibe in there is very similar to an airport terminal awaiting to board an aircraft and I'm hoping through that door is a trip to another place, another moment from this one..
It's always a little rough to sit in the OBGYN waiting rooms.  There is always an over abundance of expectant women with their loving husbands waiting to see ultra sounds of their little ones.

Wouldn't that be cool.

But on the contrary some are just there for their yearly, you can always tell because they look a little less tense.

Me, I'm just waiting for relief.

It seems to take eternity, especially when you are nervous.  I am trying to conceal my worry with writing at this very moment. I am back to see Dr. P today because I am to receive trigger point injections again.  I have previously wrote in regards to this and still never seem to remember the exact emotions I feel.

They called my name and it felt in a brief moment like an echo. I got up to head to my destination.

The first step is always blood pressure and weight.  I was talking so much to mask my nerves that the machine wouldn't take and she finally had to kindly tell me to stop talking.
It was normal.
Then I was weighed. 116.  Seems I've lost quite a few pounds.

We head back to the room and the kind nurse asks me roughly 237492349 questions on what I'm allergic to and how I feel.
After we had gotten to know each other like a script I've recited so many times that I've committed it to memory, she did what happens every time,

"Please undress from the waist down, someone will be right in"

I take off my sweat pants and underwear and neatly fold them on the chair.  I do something I never do; I kept my socks on.  As you well know, I don't do socks when I take my clothes off. It stresses me out.  But today seemed different.

I laid back and looked to my right and there was a picture of a setting sun on the water.
My destination.

I began to think of something my father said today to me, Embrace the suck....
Lately there has been a lot of suck in my life. The feeling lately of being taken for granted.  The feeling of putting myself into all I do and having nothing for myself.  I put every single ounce of all who I am in my job, in my relationship and in other random little parts of my life.
It's been so rough of me mentally. Very rough. Not sleeping. Not eating.
I've shut down in all aspects of my life.
Except one.

In the room, I kind of feel tears welling up in my eyes and I began to pray the Hail Mary and the Lord's Prayer, back to back, in a whisper because it's just for Him and I.

There is a knock at the door,
"Come in"

It wasn't Dr. P it was her PA, we will call her Dr. T.  Well Dr. T is this super skinny, beautiful, soft spoken little angel.  I really wanted to ask her where she got her skirt from.

She came in with a nurse who had the best resting bitch face I had ever seen in my life, and the only time she opened her mouth it was to ask if I wanted to hold her hand.

Dr. T placed little x's on my body to pin point each area she was going to insert the injections.
There were at the time 9 sharpied X's on my body.

She then asked me the most horrifying thing I've ever heard in my entire human life.
"Would you like an internal shot as well"

Excuse me...what...

My face must have looked horrified, the only words that could leave my lips were,
"That's a thing...."

She began to explain how it would really help my condition, but as she asked me the 1.25" needle was in the nurses hands and I couldn't even imagine putting that inside of me or wanting to even remotely do that at all.
It was a no from me dog.

I told her I would think about it for the next round.

I was all prepped and I was laying back becoming anxious again and I finally looked at that beautiful  RBF and said please hold my hand.

The first few are always the worse. But the lidocaine takes control and the last few you feel nothing.  The soreness is coming though. We decided on 10 shots due to the amount of serum left in the vial this time.

After she finishes, I lay there and she tells me to not get up too fast. Move when I am ready.
I don't cry this time.

I have three more appointments scheduled, two being in the month of December.

I have found through all of my reflection and inner thoughts that I have been putting everything under the sun over myself: my feelings, my mental health, my physical health, my sanity.

I matter too.
God I matter too.

I'm worn so thin that I have just shut down.
How do you come back from that.
I just need to breathe.

God I matter too.

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. 

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.

Life As I See It

It has been a month since I have written.

My brain and my life have been in complete auto-pilot since the "awarding" of  my degree.

I say "awarding" because I did not walk, and I have not received my fabulous piece of paper yet that pertains to any form of commitment.

With facing all that adversity and hardship of my academic career, I figured that the accomplishment of a degree would have been, only of what I could have presumed to be trumpets sounding and angels descending, yet it was nothing of the sort.

At this point it feels like I am in this weird life to job purgatory.
Caught in the middle of being given a chance, and taking a risk.

They never told you how hard it would be.

But I am remaining positive and hoping for the best.

Once I stop showering all together; that's when we should be concerned.

My health has been pretty consistent minus the night-time stomach cramps that leave my body in peril.  I take enough  sleeping medication to knock out a medium-size kangaroo, and I can only assume that is the best route to take for the time being.  Or at least until the latest round of medical bills have been completely paid off, and I can then seek medical counsel.

I am finally healthy enough to leave the nest.  I am finally becoming a real-life adult at 25.  I like to joke with my mother and tell her that I am never leaving, but it is time for Lane and I to live away from the security.

 I just have worries that my health may not stay in good shape and that I will revert back.

I can not live in fear, so I must go.

I worry far too often about the future.  I need a plan.  Without a plan my life feels at a stand still.

Anyways.

My scar fear did come true.
That thing is permanent and prominent.
I hate it so much.

And it hurts.

It's so strange.  It has a burning feeling every once in a while.

I am like a c-section Harry Potter.

I wonder who my Voldemort is.

All I know is this person has to go.

******************************************

I did want to mention these.... interesting occurrences.

I saw this new trend of  husbands and wives making a "Go Fund Me" account for IVF.

Personally, I kind of felt a sense of bitterness towards it.
I mean, it is a very expensive procedure, I understand that.
And I understand that most people who have the ability to have children shouldn't, and the ones that can't should.

But I just couldn't help but feel a sense of distaste.

Everyone does things different, I guess.

But personally, I could never ask someone to help me pay to have a baby.

Strangers donating money so maybe I could have a child, that I could potentially screw up because who knows if I could be a good parent.

It seemed so odd to ask for money for that, like buying a pair of boobs, or funding a trip to Asia.

Maybe, if a family member wanted to help, maybe.

But having a baby isn't a need,  it is a want. 

I might be completely out of line, and maybe I am just being too critical.

But 1 in 8 people deal with some kind of form of infertility...so should we all make a Go Fund Me for the next surgery, or the next shot, or the next appointment, or my potential "Mommy Tuck" because the last surgery screwed up my body.

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. 

Building a Wall Out of Tire Parts and Sticky Tape: The Alff Presentation

I mentioned a long time ago that I began this blog initially for this blogging class I am currently enrolled in.

It has obviously turned into something way bigger than that but, I still mentioned it.  That did happen.

Well part of the "criteria" we have to talk about our presentation in this class and our "blog adoption".


I ended up doing this adoption over Shawn Alff,  who I am pretty sure is the only man I know that can pull-off a leopard print thong, and still be one of the sexiest people I have ever seen.

The adoption, also, gave me a reason to genuinely stalk this guy, in a way that would get me less likely to be arrested, and more likely be able to find out everything in the world about this person, minus his social security number, and his address.

I am still working on his address.

I think the girl on the right has very nice butt. 

But outside his charming demeanor and super hot bod,  he is one of the best writers I have ever seen.

I ended up writing a 2,500+ word, thoroughly thought out paper over this guy.  It's almost embarrassing, and more than moderately creepy.

He doesn't hate it though.
He did tell me, if need be,  I could write his relationship profile because, let's just say, I was selling him like I was giving away free water at Wakarusa.

I knew I was a good wingman, and an even better, twat-swat to myself.

I was going to attach the paper, which I know is going to be way too long for my blog, BUT it's, also, one of the best papers I have ever written because, Shawn actually gave me most of the material, and was the easiest subject to write about.

But it really is too long, but if you want to read it, I will send it to you, or I will come to where you are and give you the presentation.  I mean this paper is nine pages double-spaced.

I clearly have no self-control.

The powerpoint is so good, too.   Here is a picture of us.

Shawn and I

But see, also, I waited to write about him because today is his birthday and he told me that he never really has an amazing birthday, which makes me sad because I am not there to throw confetti or like make a pudding bath out of gluten-free pudding because I don't want to waste good pudding.

He's writing is not only funny but it puts on display his every fear and insecurity, which resonates with so many people.

You can read his stuff at www.shawnalff.com

You won't regret it.
I surely didn't.

The Ex Files: Part One: Freak Boy

There are over 300 reasons of why I am not dating anyone at the moment.

200 of those reasons are because of the kind of person I am, and how I like being alone. 

I have screwed up tremendously throughout all of my relationships.

 It is always after we break up and I go through my "post-breakup insan-o binge" that I figure out that it's because I am a mess of a human.

Mainly we breakup because I don't know exactly what I want in life.
It's a little bit better now because I have a better understanding of who I am now, and why I am the way I am the way I am.

I have surprisingly become more confident in myself, comparative to how I use to be.   Scary huh.

When you don't know what you want in life, your insecurities are tenfold because you are a lost, codependent little puppy.

I have had several boyfriends most lasting 6 months tops, with the exception of two.

I have been truly IN head over heels love with 3 people.

And I am doing a three part series where I am going to talk about them.
(Oh yes, this is going to be fun) 

The first was the absolute worst boyfriend I had ever had in my life.
The first time we met was at a party in the 8th grade.  He was a year older than me and tied to a chair with duct tape the first time I laid eyes on him.
 And then we proceeded to lock tongues for 2 hours, and he left with out telling me anything more than his first name.  This was my first time kissing a stranger, but his high school scruff and long curly blonde locks had me at "will you help me out of this duct tape?" 

Then, I ran into him two months later at a movie with his friend and my friend who were dating.  He was eating a Quzino's sandwich in the middle of a theater.
 I fell very hard.
Apparently, at the ripe ole age of 13 it doesn't take a lot to fall in love.
Then when I finally reached high school we dated for one week, where he ended up cheating on me with another girl on my birthday, and the night of homecoming.

We were very young and stupid, and I was in love, so naturally I had to get him back and make him pay for it.
I got back at him by dating his best friend, and kissing boys in front of him.
To where he would yell at me. 
Needless to say, we were far past the point of return: he wanted me back and I wanted him.   These reasons were purely from the fact we didn't want to see each other with anyone else. 
We wrote each other notes in the hallway, that I still have in my room. 
He use to sneak into my basement and we would talk late at night, and I would get caught every single time.
But I didn't care.

He moved away and I moved away after my freshman year.  I thought I would never hear from him again.
I was 15 years old, and had no idea about the world, or what was actually important in life and not.

I knew I was wrapped around his finger though.  We kept in contact here and there when we left.  I moved to Oklahoma and he to Tennessee.  I didn't think we were going to cross paths.
We had the most messed up relationship you could have.  But what came from it what the closest bond I have ever had with another person.

He completely destroyed me as a person in every single aspect of the word when we were children.  He made me believe that, that was how another person was supposed to be treated.
That was not the case obviously and for some reason the forces of the universe kept us close.
A huge part has to deal with me being a completely forgiving push-over and wanting acceptance and love from everyone.

But this beautiful disaster came from it. 

He did take me to my first dance ever as a freshman and my last dance ever as a senior.
We still  talk regularly and see each other at least once a year.

I would not be the person I am today without him in my life.  
We have the strangest, rarest relationship in the world.

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.