love is a beautiful bruise

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I saved a couple of email notifications on posts that really struck a chord with me from Blah’s page.  Going through it a few minutes ago, I came across this one, and I think it’s perfect for all of us that are hurting.  She always knew how she would leave this dark and weighted down planet.  She even wrote about on her blog.  While skimming her blog trying to find this post, I saw all her linkdumps, her raw honesty about Ward 13, and the struggle with her Bipolar II and the deep depression that consumed her beautiful soul.  You’ll also find her safari pictures (I’m still jealous about the hippos) and if you look REALLY CLOSE AND HARD, in one picture you can see most of her beautiful face. *Particularly for DM*

ANYWAY.  The whole point of this is that with the grief comes love, and with that love, we can “gentle the grief”.  It’ll never ever fully go away.  And why should it? ☆If you know anything about Blah, then you’ll know why this quote is right☆

“If this is love, I do not want it. Take it away, please! Why does it hurt so much?”

“Because it was real.”

Sail across the seas, to a green land.

“Duty? No… I would have you smile again, not grieve for those whose time has come. You shall live to see these days renewed. No more despair.”

Grief is the price we pay for love, quoth Queen Elizabeth II (and she definitely knows grief). You love, you lose, you grieve, you swear you’ll never love again, you love more. You’re h…

Source: love is a beautiful bruise

This Needs A Title

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It’s been a stressful time round here.  Very stressful.  

I have surgery on Wednesday, and I’m nervous about that, ya know.  Last Wednesday was the child support and provisional hearing for my divorce…I. HATE. That. Man.  HATE HATE HATE HATE!  I was so pissed off that I was crying after. I’m not going to go into it right now because it still makes me fucking angry.  I will, eventually.  

I started back on lithium.  Because I was tired of feeling nothing.  I didn’t want to do anything.  I didn’t want to go anywhere.  I didn’t feel anything other than that despair that just floats under the surface  (and has been for MONTHS).  I was on autopilot, and we all know how that goes.  Had my labs drawn the day I started and would you believe my lithium level was .1?  It’s to be between .6-1, and mine was damn near non existent.  Probably a HUGE reason as to why I wasn’t feeling anything. 

So I’ve been on it for 3 weeks and I went from Numb Navy back to Sassy.  Though, as Morgue calls it, i hit the Lithium Lotto…though its more like Craps for me and im constantly rolling snake eyes.  Nausea, wanting to eat but nothung tastes good or hits the spot.  Blah. Everything irritates me.  Noise, people, life, my car.  Not work though. I find peace and comfort there.  It’s routine and predictable, yet not.  And quiet most of the time.  I enjoy it.  I honestly would rather be at work than dealing with people.  Shocking, I know.  And I know that there are alot of you that read my blog and who wish they could work again, and I wish that for you too.  I REALLY and TRULY do.  I wish I could take all of my friends and work together because it’s quiet in the sense there’s no overbearing asshole bosses or coworkers coming in, but there’s noise from the music we play, and the clinking of keys and locks.  But it’s not bad.  And it doesn’t require alot of knowledge right off the bat, you can slowly learn things.  It’s a challenge but not a hinderence.  Maybe one day I’ll start a non-profit for my blog buddies…(I think that’s a bit of the racing thoughts coming back).  And the anxiety is back, but probably because I’ve been stressed.  Or now that I’m back in the land of the feeling, things are heightened again.  Even my relationship with Florida has been stressed, for many reasons.  

Seems there are a shit ton of factors lately that are hell bent of bringing some of us down.  But we will all get through it.  We always do.

I’ve missed blogging.  I’ve missed feeling my feelings.  I’ve missed being lippy and loud and smartassy.  I’ve missed my blog friends, old and new.  I know the lithium probably won’t work forever, and I’ll continue on the medi-go-round, but that’s what keeps us fighting, right?

Yeah, I know this seems like a  unicorns that shit rainbows kinda post. It’s not.  Yes, there’s been some good, but there’s still alot of shit mixed in there.  I’m just not in a place to discuss it.

I am, however, in a place to smack people in the face…with cement blocks.  Repeatedly.  Because I can’t deal with any more idiocy.  Thank God Z Nation starts soon. Or I’d find a way to off myself with a homemade Z Whacker ala Morgue’s custom shop.

Broken

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I sit on the corner ledge of the rooftop building, looking at the world below carry on.  The chilly wind whips my firey red hair about my face, obscuring my view from time to time, making my eyes water and stinging my skin.

It’s the first time I’ve felt anything.  I have become numb, empty, a husk, a shadow of my former glory.  My eyes are empty and hollow.  My smile is fake and forced.  My voice is empty and deadened of emotion.  My touch is dulled and I never really know if I’m touching something or imagining what things felt like in my once tactile grasp.

No one knows the emptiness that is within, because no one wants to really hear the bad things.  No one wants to see how hollow I’ve become and that I am only going through the motions to “act normal”.  

I don’t sleep well, because the emptiness weighs me down.  I don’t eat because I can’t taste the food and it makes me nauseous.  I sleep too much because it’s easier than living with the nothingness that is inside.  I can’t stand to be around people as noise sounds like a freight train barreling through my ears, yet the quietness of solitude is deafening and suffocating.  

The weighted blanket of despair pulls me ever more slowly further down into the chill of the blackness and waits with bated breath to engulf me.  

I stand up on the corner ledge of the rooftop and wonder if I really have the balls to just ever so slightly lean over and fall, and hope I will once again be warm and happy and free.  I am shattered inside, shards of my soul pierce my once indestructible exterior, showing them my weakness.  

My eyes are empty and hollow.  My smile is fake and forced.  My voice is void of emotion.  My soul is wounded and broken.  I am wounded and broken.

And as always, no one sees me as I suffer alone in a crowded room.

Fort Blankie

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I’m waving the white flag of surrender.  I am giving up on today.  I can no longer adult or people.  I am defeated today, as well as I’m in pain on my entire right side (thank you shoulder and fucked up lady parts).  I want to sleep until the weekend, and even then I’m not looking forward to the festivities of Saturday.  Because, people.  And noise.  And light.  And life.  I want to commiserate with misery for a couple days.  

In Fort Blankie.  And my personalized Z Whacker.  And booze.  And ear plugs.  And blackest black sunglasses. 

Because right now, life doth sucketh. 

🏳🏳🏳🏳🏳

Lazy Sunday

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I can’t tell if there is some depression coming back or if I’m just bored.  I have slept alot this weekend: two naps Saturday and today.  Went to bed around 10 Friday night and slept until 930 Saturday morning.  Napped from 530-9ish, then went to sleep at 11 Saturday night and was up around 730 this morning.  Took a nap from 12ish to 130 when Florida called on his way to work this afternoon.  I did manage to fold two loads of laundry and put them away, but that’s it on the productive front.  I haven’t bothered to get dressed and I didn’t bother to put on glasses until almost 4 this afternoon when I finally managed to get myself something to eat (which was chicken fries and California blend veggies with cheese).  I’ve been in my bed pretty much the majority of the day.  Today would have been my Gramma’s 83 birthday, and 19 years since my Grampa was buried. He would be 94.  His mom, my great Gramma G was 102 when she passed, I believe.  She was a week shy of living in 3 different centuries.  She was born in 1898.  The things that have happened in the world.

I’ve been hurting on and off, taking advil and tylenol on the regular.  Work has kept me busy, which I really do enjoy.  Friday I didn’t get to eat lunch because of phone calls and faxes and charts and running here and there.  I’m not complaining.  I’m grateful to be working and getting experience on the other side of health care in DOC.  It’s definitely different.  I can tell you that I am tired every night from all of the walking and mental exertion during the week.  

I guess today has been a recovery day.  Then again, it’s a tough day.  So maybe my mind told my body to take it easy today and let things come and go as they do.  And they have.  It the first time in a long time I haven’t cried for the losses of two special people in my life, but celebrated the joy of being in my life.  

I still want to sleep, so maybe I’ll go to bed in an hour.

The Doctor

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I had a doctor appointment on Tuesday with my OBGYN.  I have been having issues with my lady parts, among other things as always.  I started metformin back in March to help regulate my periods.  As in, to have them.  I stopped taking it because 1) the nausea was HORRIBLE and 2) it caused my blood pressure to go up. Woohoo, right?  A medicine used to help women with PCOS (polycystic ovarian syndrome) and used to manage blood sugars made my usually on the low side of normal to go up. And not just a tiny bit, but almost 30 points some days.  No.  Just.  NO!  And I started Rexulti in May and guess what?  Same.  Damn.  THING!  So I stopped THAT med, too.  What’s the point of sanity if I have to be on a blood pressure medicine to counter act a side effect from a psych med?!  ANYWAY…

I had to get another ultrasound because of the cyst on my right ovary and the pain and blah blah blah.  Well, you know it’s not going to be a good visit when you get “The Look” from your doctor.   That, this is not a normal visit, look.  My history is not complex but not easy.  Because of the bipolar disorder and all of the medication I’ve been on and stopped because of side effects plus my gynecological (that word just rolls off of my tongue) history, I present an abnormal case.  Not difficult, but definitely not easy and clear-cut.

I have a mass on my right ovary that is 6 centimeters across.  It’s not like the cyst I had removed two years ago.  There is fluid in the cyst, but there are also tendrils.  Whatever THAT means.  On top of not having an actual period, my body is putting me at a greater risk of uterine and ovarian cancer.  This cyst wasn’t there in April when I went to the ER and had an ultrasound done then.  Dr G just wants to watch it and go back in three months.

I talked to my family and most importantly to Florida and we decided that surgery is the better option than to “wait and see”.  Fun times, right?  My body is slowly turning against me at a time when I am begging it to function properly.   But how can I ask it to do that after all of the medication I have been on to try to stabilize my brain and then the birth control I used to prevent that ONE THING I’ve wanted more than anything most of my life?  

I’m trying NOT to think of the “what if” scenarios plating through my head.  But they are always there, just under the surface and fueled by fear that I may not be able to have the family I envisioned in my future with Florida.   It’s a very real fear I have, even if it is a tiny one.  

Because I’ve FINALLY found someone that loves me and wants to have children with out of love, not convenience, and believes in me as a partner and parent…and wants good things for and with me.  And my body is like “Ha ha!  No.”  And I don’t know how to take it all in…

So now it’s just the waiting game.