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.

Whiskey on a Patio

There is no real reason for my title to be Whiskey on a Patio, other than the fact that I am drinking whiskey on a patio.  It's such a beautiful evening and I couldn't help but, want to sit out here and write.

I am on what the youngsters call "Spring Break",  I have never really participated in Spring Break, other than when I was in High School on our Senior trip, where we were kicked out of the town of Gore, and told to never return from the sheriff. 


I did have a little too much fun this weekend with my weekend warrior mentality.  Saturday was a little different because I got to participate in the social activities of a Baby Shower.


One of my dear BudGirls had a baby shower.  Yes, for those who do not know, I was a Bud Light promotional girl.  Which this job pretty much entailed my friends and I getting into all of the best places, meeting famous people, drinking, and handing out free things.  It was very hard work; there were nights when I didn't even want to drink.  But I pushed through for the good-of-the-job. 


Continuing on, while I was finding out I was incapable of having children, my two best friends found out they were pregnant.  The timing almost felt too cruel to be unintentional.   


I love these two girls more than anything, but I had never felt so alone with the idea of my two best friends are now pregnant, and I was left out of the pact.


Not that they made a pregnancy pact, but I have heard about those and they are pretty common, and oh, so strange.


The shower was lovely, someone even brought a live baby for entertainment, but I found myself sitting in the corner, shoveling my body-weight in cold-cut pinwheels down my throat and drinking the alcoholic punch.  I was swimming in sea of pregnant woman, and even 'drinking the water' wouldn't change my fate.


It sure is sounding like a Pregnancy Pact, now.


I spoke a few times with what could be taken as inappropriate comments.  One, of course, asking about birthing techniques.  I am more of a visual learner. 
The patrons were less than pleased with my vaginal birthing hand motions. 


Whenever I feel awkward I say the wrong things, and do the wrong things.
Lucky for me, I didn't make any dead baby jokes, or joke about playing football with the baby as the ball.


Something is very wrong with me.


We did go out to take a picture of my two favorite preggers and I together, and one had asked about my surgery. 
Suddenly everyone got quiet, and I try to light-heartedly tell my impotence of being a woman, with a smile on my face.
It all was seemingly creepy, and forced happiness. 


I love being a part of these monumental times in my friends lives, but it does something to you, where you want to go home and drown your sorrows in a bottle of your finest Pinot Noir.  


Luckily, I do have my 3 week post-operation appointment tomorrow.  I am enlivened because, I am anticipating to get cleared to go back to work. 


I feel more complete when I feel like I am doing something worthwhile with my time. 
I just feel useless and broke.


I just want to get ahead. 
I want to do something crazy. 
I want to live for the story instead of continuously writing the same bullshit over and over again.


When the hell do you get over it?  When does it stop haunting you?
I sound like a broken record.


I am annoyed by my own self.  I have to find my adventure and go. 


Forget all this ever even happened.

Snipped, Glued, Stitched.. All better, Right?

Well turns out I didn't die on Monday, so that's dope.
And the Tubes are gone, yo!

We arrived at the hospital at 4:45 for my 5 am check-in.
I had slept maybe an hour and a half, which is a big deal.

I had finally entered my room
I, of course, managed to get the gown that doesn't tie in the back because the string has been cut.
I try to get away with wearing my underwear and sports bra.
The nurse just shakes her head at me.

Naked it is. The gown barely covers anything.  I did shave my legs for the occasion.
I put the hospital socks on, which is out of my norm.  I don't like wearing socks, when I am naked.

I get all hooked up the the IV and the nurse tells me the anesthesiologist,  Dr. Stark was coming.

I immediately asked..
..... Tony?
The nurse said that she was a woman, and that she didn't know if her husband's name was Tony.

Poor, stupid, beautiful nurse.

Let's just say she could have been Tony Stark's wife.  She was gorgeous.

At 7:03, I entered the surgery room.

I woke up at 9:30 in my room for the night.  I was hooked up to an IV, breathing machine, pulse checker, catheter, and some things around my calves to make them move so I wouldn't develop blood clots in my legs.

I don't remember a whole lot from that day, but apparently I said some funny things.  My parent's made a list.  And took pictures.
When my brother arrived they took this one.

Apparently this is what I look like when I am sick. 

The breathing tube was weird, apparently the nose-like part on it measured my CO2 and if I took it off then the machine would beep uncontrollably, and then I would be yelled at by one of the nurses on the staff to keep the tube in.

I probably begged the nurse 87 times to take out my catheter; mixing it up how to ask her every time she came back in.

"Hey will you get me some ice chips, and oh, and take this catheter out"

or 

"What does this button do, and oh the catheter, take it out." 

That thing is the bloody devil, and I hate it. 

My brother and my older sister came to see me.  I remember more when my older sister was there.

She brought me flowers and made me watch the bachelor.  It was torture of the purest, kindest form.

I, also, received flowers from the nicest man on earth whom I can only predict will be the future Mr. to my Yard.  That poor, beautiful man will end up with me on his doorstep with a backpack, and two, one-way tickets to nowhere.  

I didn't sleep worth a damn in the hospital. No one does. 

From being so high on morphine, and the every hour wake-ups, and shots in my stomach from the nightly Nurse Gay, The night was full of misery and business, to say the least. 

I just needed to get the hell out of there.

I finally left around 6 PM yesterday.  I slept like a baby, when I got home. 

I have felt utterly useless today though, and even more, so as I sit here watching my mother fold my laundry.  She is a saint, that I know for sure. 

It feel like the incision it not as big as I had thought.  She did cut through my tattoo, which I knew would happen, but it definitely went from a beautiful quote from my favorite book, to a Rihanna Lyric. 

Graphic Picture. My Bad,

I am not going to be ashamed of my scars.  

I will just tell people I got stabbed saving kittens. Everyone loves a good stabbing by saving kittens story.

Now, I just need to learn how to get up, go to the bathroom, cough, lay back down, walk, and sit without being in pain.

Seems easy enough. 

T-Minus 4 Days Until The Extraction

I am not going to lie.


I have started to seriously panic about this whole surgery ordeal.



It helps, that I am moderately hung over today, which means I slept like a baby last night.




What doesn't help is that I think I had a conversation with someone last night, and I don't remember if it actually happened.

If it did happen..I think I might have either some explaining to do..

or....act like it never happened.



The disadvantages of having realistic dreams.



I think I am going to go with option 2.



Well I am just in this point  now that I am worried about my body image, the healing process, and how many things that I am going to be missing out on, or things that will completely disappear from my life because of this.



By that I mean, humans, obviously.



I am doing this 5-Miles a day thing before I can't work out anymore.
I am hoping that it will make me so fit that, I will be distracted from the giant smiley-face stitching on my stomach.
I have been discussing getting a tattoo put over top of the gnarly scar such as a life like depiction of my mom peeking over my panty-line to fend off intruders.




I am a little worried about school, more so than usual.
I know it's only a week out, but being as anal-retentive about trivial things as I am....We are lucky if I don't try to do school work as soon as I wake up in the hospital.
I hope every one in my groups are ready for me to blow.their.shit.up.




If I am not smart or don't get that proving piece of paper, then what else am I?

I am not a super model.
I am instrumentally-challenged.
I am a terrible public speaker.
I am dyslexic.



I need that piece of paper, yo.


I did my acceptance to graduation letter.

They did let me know that I better keep my GPA up or I'm out...In BRIGHT RED letters.  Thanks Graduation office.  Thanks for reminding me that I use to do really shitty in school.



Now I just have to say focused on the good things, like being able to draw, and having olive skin in the dead of winter.  Not the negative things like losing my awesome butt, and potentially having to get a tattoo of my mom peeking over my panty-line.


At least I'll never be on Maury for finding out who my baby's daddy is. 


See, things are already looking up.

Graphic In Nature

I had a very long talk last night with a good friend of mine.  She is going through something so different, yet we can relate so much.


My friend's pelvic floor is completely destroyed due to a form of birth control.  She has endured 3 surgeries in 3 years for 3 different issues involving her reproductive system.  Doesn't seem like a lot, but when you have a full Hysterectomy by the age of 28 due to pain of your pelvic floor, then it becomes a big deal.


Hysterectomy (if you want it in my terms, is the whole thing gone: egg holder, baby holder, and the Bering Strait; all gone) is the real deal. 
You can't go back. But, she had to do this. 

We had a long talk about relationships, our goals, and our struggles.

I felt for her.  She has never wanted to have children so the news of not being able to have one was not as heart-breaking as it would be to some. 
She just wants to be a normal person again.

 See with these surgeries, when you have problems in the "south-pole", they are never really a one-and-done kind of thing. 

When one problem occurs lots of problems could happen, and it can take awhile before you can return to doing the things you love, or even normal activities.

The thing that makes us as woman is in complete jeopardy.

Being as young as we are it makes the whole becoming a woman thing kind of a running joke.

I only had my period for half of my life before it decided to retire. 

People do tell me all the time how lucky I am to not have a period.
Brah...I'll trade you.

I started this blog because of this. 

There are so, so, so many women going through these problems.  They are not just painful on the person itself, but the spirit.

I have been searching for a peer-led support group to help with this because hearing her story (and many of the stories I have heard from people reading my blog) have not only helped her or you by telling it, but it has helped me.  But most groups are for those who have experienced miscarriages, and those who are dealing with infertility with a partner.

I mean, I have no problem showing up alone, but that's what it feels like...being alone.

Family is cool, and friends are great, but if you tell me to adopt or there are other options; I am going to punch you in the face.
You think we don't know that. 
We know the cost.
We know most of the options.

But we are living in a society where women that should have children are on their third or fourth, and I am praying for a miracle, or hoping that maybe 40,000 dollars for adoption will be able to be made in payments.

We just want to hear-
"That sucks."

 Let me vent for a minute, and then tell me a joke.

That's it. Don't try and fix it. Tell me it sucks. Because it does.

And the joke calms my mind. I love to laugh.  This is on our minds most of the time, so any distraction at all to help us forget is exactly what we need.
It's called being a friend.


Seriously though the amount of people that have reached out either with kind words, or to share their stories... Thank you.

Keep it up. The positivity you all spread by your love and honesty is what keeps people like us hopeful.

Where They At Though?

Something has been really been on my mind lately.


Let's back it up for a second..
So little information about me is I am a brat.  A military one. We moved around constantly.  The only consistent people in my life have been my family.  I lucked out with them because they are awesome.
That being said we moved here the year I turned 16.  


I was not a good kid.  I did awful things. I made terrible decisions.  I was young and rebellious.  I have since grown-up, but I ruined a lot of relationships the first few years here. 
Which has led me to now.


I have a lot of playground friends. Those are people I can call up a couple, grab a few brewskis with, and tear up the evening.


This has changed quite a bit since I've become "sick".
I don't feel well most of the time, so smashing 1942 isn't on the top of my list. 


I have to really not feeling well to turn down my boo, Senor Julio.


When you can't play, what's the point of being around you?


I mean.. I know you are like, "Kelsey that's so silly. People hang out with you all the time. You have like 3,000 Facebook friends. 324 likes on a picture.  You are so funny, and fun."


You are right.  I am a lot of fun. I am extremely inappropriate. I like to people watch.  I am actually kind of an asshole, but in a very douche-y, sweet way.  I am salty, and sweet; the perfect combination.
But, I have gone my whole life being a Weekend Warrior, even a Tuesday Warrior.
I don't discriminate against the day of the week.


Why would I start attracting people now who don't go out.  That's not my style. 


Friendships are so weird; you, like, find a person that you get along with for longer than 15 minutes, you do stuff together, and then you like talk to them when you aren't together, but you don't want to sleep together.  If you do, you violate the friendship and someone gets upset.
Friend-zone is so important if you don't want to completely ruin the chances of staying "just friends".
That's why They call me BK aka Boner Killer. I am very good at friend-zoning guys.

I have trouble holding on to women relationships.  I am not sure why.
Me, I don't like using the bathroom at the same time. It's weird. I don't understand it. Why do we have to go in there together. I am actually kind of pee-shy.
I don't like going on and on about boys.  I mean they are cool, but if I like him; I'll tell him.  If he is making me mad; he will know. We don't have to talk about it.
 
I did have an amazing friendship once with a girl. I miss her a lot.


I just don't understand how to make them now. I don't understand how to walk up to another human being at this point and say, "Hey, I want you to come over to my house and watch 100 episodes of Law and Order: SVU with me because I don't ever feel well."
Good Luck on a Friday night.


A lot of people I like, that are woman, have children.  It's hard to not feel upset, when it's not something we have in common, or that I can share with them.  I am so happy for them, but I can't help but feel envious.  Maybe that's why I have a tough time with it.  Maybe, it's hard for me because I don't feel like a complete woman.


Does one ever get over that?