Mental Illness Awareness Week

Now is the time, annually, that we take a slightly deeper interest in mental health. A girlfriend's well-worded blog post on the subject (http://liveitactive.wordpress.com/2013/02/12/lets-talk-about-mental-illness/) reminded me that I had to type too. 

Every year since I began suffering with a mental illness (a good 11 years now), I do feel and believe that the situation as a whole has gotten better. I do feel and believe that the world as a whole has grown more excepting, at least more tolerant of mental illness, and more aware of the importance of mental health. But mental illness is a tough thing to label, describe, and be empathetic about, so there is still so much progress that can be made. So much potential. 

Like my friend, I believe the best thing we can do for this disease, is let the world know about it. We have hundreds of drugs, and specialists, and treatment options, but not awareness. Like so many perfectly normal things in this world, mental illness still comes off as being taboo, an embarrassing handicap. This mindset leads us to denial, and by the time we start rounding 30 years old..we should all have had some experience with where denial really gets us!

Besides sever eating disorder cases, a mental illness is an invisible illness, which makes it understandably harder for outsiders to understand, or recognize. When high school friends are shocked to learn that I was diagnosed with depression in my early teens, or when coworkers are shocked to discover that I still fight daily with my anxiety, it is the greatest testament to my likely Oscar-worthy acting skills! (Thank you very much!). No one knows (knew) what I was dealing with because I'm good at hiding it (often the hiding is subconscious, and just happens naturally). When I show up to work with bags under my eyes, it's assumed I was working late, or partying late...not up all night with a gut-wrenching panic attack. Panic attacks aren't nearly as every-day normal as getting shitfaced and dancing until 3am on a Wednesday...so why would anyone assume correctly? We notice a friend is extra moody today, and we assume she must have had a fight with her on again-off again boyfriend, again, not that she's actually suffering from clinical depression and hasn't quite found a medication that works well enough for her. 

I've had the luxury of being surrounded by good, accepting people, and being raised to be confident, so it's easier for me to be an open book, where I am in my life now. Panic attacks happen, I see my pharmacist once a month, I cry like a fucking baby sometimes, and Ativan is a gift from god. Those are simple facts to me, but not to everyone. And I understand that side of things as well. 

When I first started dealing with my anxiety (because clinical depression wasn't enough for one little woman to deal with..not to mention the overwhelming physical illness..), I was never in denial, but I was embarrassed. I was 25 and while friends were entering careers and getting married and buying homes and making babies, I was living at home, forced to be unemployed, and feeling utterly pathetic. I got very good, for a while, at avoiding that stupid 'what have you been up to?' conversation when running into an old friend randomly. Then I realized just how different my life would be, had I felt comfortable enough to tell my friends and family about my depression when I was in high school. I realized how much it would have helped, if I could have been my real, honest self, and still felt normal and cool. That's when this blog started! I decided it was perfectly ok for me to type, and discuss, and joke about my personal mental illness(es), all the while hoping that it may help others feel perfectly ok to do so too. Because it should be. 

One day, depression (and anxiety, bipolar, Aspergers, agoraphobia, manic depression, OCD, etc.) will be seen the way cancer is seen. Scary, sometimes ugly, but REAL and important. Worthy of the worlds attention, and fundraising, and empathy. Until then, I appreciate the baby steps that society is taking. I appreciate professionals (like my friend) taking the time to speak out. I appreciate celebrities (Brooke Shields, Ellen's BABE of a girlfriend, Zach Braff, Cameron Diaz, Howie Mandel, etc) who are unafraid of being honest with their fans, despite their haters. I appreciate brands like Bell, who use their power to raise funds and awareness for the cause. And I appreciate those who continue to love and adore me, despite my nuts-ness ;)

Nostalgia Will Be The Death Of Me

After a weekend full of beautiful Birthday partying, I went back to mom's to walk our dog while she's away. The walk was cold, but smelt the way winter should smell. I fed little Clay, snuggled him, and then made the mistake of peeking into one of the albums on the living room bookshelf. And that's where I spent the next 40 minutes. 

I've always been a cheesy, sentimental, nostalgic sucker, and Christmas through my Birthday seems to be the worst. Christmas childhood memories are my very favorite, and then it's all the emotion that comes with ringing in a new year, and then my Birthday comes, another marker of a new (personal) year, realizing the last one is actually over (already?!), and it's all a little overwhelming. Plus it's winter, so naturally everything is a little sadder!

I have never been one to shy away from my Birthday. I firmly believe we all deserve a day to be celebrated, and I admittedly enjoy the 24 hours of Facebook attention. I have never worried about getting older, the future hasn't scared me since I was in high school. I am extremely happy, thankful where I am in my life, how far I've come, and who's come with me. But once I start flipping through baby pictures (and can't bring myself to stop flipping), a nervousness does sink in. Nervous to get further away from these perfect little moments. 

My parents made utterly beautiful children. 

I don't say that in a strictly self-absorbed way. They had definitely blessed us with extremely decent genes, but in every picture, on every page, throughout all those binders, are the happiest little faces. Just happy and so in love. We were blessed with a very healthy, happy childhood. And that makes me cry for some reason!

It might have something to do with the fact that it all ended in divorce. And also the hormones. (It's always going to be the hormones, isn't it?). We were just so god damn cute. And if I get this emotional over baby pictures, I can't imagine what it does to parents. I mean, that first blondey crooked-smile baby is turning 27!? 

I get excited, knowing all that is bound to happen in this new 'I am 27' year. Twenty-seven is a sexy sounding number. I have a feeling that it's going to be, actually, wonderful. 

But life isn't perfect. Not as perfect as it felt, I'm sure, when I was turning 2 and about to get a brand new brother. Or when I was turning 5, and my favorite little sister was finally at my Birthday party. They were precious moments, because we were precious, captured in invaluable snap shots. And when I look at them now, I can't help but hate how far away they seem. How far away that 'Who cares! We're young and we're perfect' feeling is. Children are definitely oblivious to the 'real world' (if they're lucky), but that's part of what makes us beautiful. 

We are still a respectably handsome family, don't get me wrong! And we are all growing, succeeding, relatively happy, and lucky in love, decent human beings. So I have no fear of how much time we have left, or what we're going to do with it...but of how much time has passed. You don't realize it, at least I don't, at least not in an obvious way, the time passing. You don't realize the time passing and the responsibilities mounting, the friends coming and going, the heart breaking and loving, because it just happens. But then you open the pages that your Nana started filling with these gorgeous, happy, care-free faces 28 years ago, and suddenly it's so easy to spend 40 minutes sitting on the floor covering your sweater sleeves in tears. And snot! 

My 1st Birthday party - Mom wore a bow tie, I wore the cake

An angel putting up the angel ;)

My mom was a model you know

He's always loved having a big sister!

A couple of suckers (and Nana)

My very favorite sister

Told'ja we were good looking...

Where Blogs End and Poems Start

Nights like this and feelings like this, the feelings in my head and in my heart, it reminds me of the sky. Not just any sky, the sky above the curb I sat on across from the mall, the night I got arrested. 

I've never actually told my parents I've been arrested. I was 18 so the police didn't need to contact them, I went to court on my own, paid the fine myself, got myself to community service. Turns out though, lol, the 5 Finger Discount is actually a gene inherited. 

I sat on that curb, in the dark and breezy and wet night, staring into the sky. I was feeling so sad, and angry in general, and trying desperately to see the stars I saw from my Dominican rooftop. 

Dominican is a...a THING, or a moment in my life that I will carry with me to the grave. A necessary thing, a perfect moment, where after years of depression I felt more free and more alive and more possible then I ever had in my life. I can't for sure say that anything or any moment has surpassed Dominican. But every now and then I find myself looking for that sky again, feeling under that sky again.  That sky which...

That sky
it's almost a comforting place
I want to run to
every now and again,
dark and wet and alone
and seeming so far from 
the free and the possible. 
A comfortable place
for the sad and generally angry
desperately looking
for the stars that had to have been real. 
But I know I can't stay here
because I know those stars exist
just a comfortable place 
to visit and remember
that no matter how far we've come 
it's all the same sky. 

Ways To Shine Even Brighter In 2013

It's that time of year again! The year we're standing in is drawing to a close, and an entire brand spanking new one is on the verge of opening it's arms. It's exciting! I do think that Birthdays are the mark of a new year for everyone in a personal way, but midnight on New Years Eve is something the whole world can share. Whether we're Catholic or Muslim or Canadian or Australian, gay or straight, rich or poor or stupid enough to eat a burger with melted butter on it (because that does exist at Steak n Shake), the calendar starts over again. 

(That's right, right? I know there's a Chinese New Year that's not right now, but they still recognize January 1st, right? Perhaps I'll Google that before posting...)

This year, inspired by an article my boyfriend sent me, instead of coming up with a bunch of resolutions that sometimes lead to disappointment in ourselves, I have decided to compose a list of revelations. A list of things, some profound and some obvious, I KNOW will help make this new year even better then the one ending. 

1) You don't ALWAYS have to be SO brave. 

I'd been craving a little crazy in my life, so I used the salon gift certificate won at my friend's Champagne fundraiser and dyed my hair purple! Before going purple though, you must get bleached. So the bleach went in, and sat there, and I sat under the dryer...and I slowly sank from under the dryer, and then I started shaking, and then I tried breathing slow and calmly, and then I ran outside and started crying. Lol. Bottom line, I now have a little chemical burn on my scalp because I didn't wan to be a cry baby, I was trying to be brave and suck it up. But pain and panic and fear does occasionally occur for a good reason. 

2. When you find yourself asking, 'Why me?', take an actually minute to list 3 things you are thankful for.

Instead of rhyming off that age old 'Someone’s always got it worse', be productive. In that moment when you're wondering 'Why me?', it sometimes seems impossible that anyone could be feeling worse then you are. "I'm lying on my bathroom floor shaking and sweating and throwing up after shitting my pants...and you're trying to tell ME that someone is feeling even worse then this right now? Fuck you."

But even when lying on the bathroom floor (feeling like your) dying, you can take a minute, in your head or on paper, or out loud, to list three things you're thankful for. Reminding yourself of the good in your life, even if its just three teeny things (like, Grey's Anatomy is on tonight), it becomes easier to appreciate the little things, easier to see that in fact some might be worse off. 

3. In a similar fashion, when you're heart starts hurting for the ones you've lost, remember those you still have. 

It's far easier said then done, this I know, but it's trying that counts. I'm not so much talking about loves ones who have passed away. While its important to keep most of our focus on the living, I'd never ask a person cut their mourning period short. Losing a twenty-something friend to cancer, that shit's going to sting well into 2013. And that's ok. 

But the exboyfriends, the best friends you've spent so much time missing when songs about best friends come on the radio, this is the year to realize that you're better off. It's strange, and mean, the way our brains seem to recall the good times so much quicker then the reasons the good times ended. Why is that? Some sappy song plays and we're thinking about first kisses and weekly Bachelor dates, instead of how badly it hurt when they cheated on us, or told us we were worthless. 

Instead of remembering those good times or those bad times, remember the numbers in your address book that you can still text at all hours of the night, even when you're in Florida! It's not seeing someone every day that makes a best friend, it's those who treat you the best (no matter what), and that's who we need to spend our feelings on. 

4. Keep less CRAP in your home. 

This is one will be a bit of a struggle for me. 

While piles of old magazines and months-worth of newspapers, or the 63 boxes of laundry detergent you picked up during your coupon-clipping phase last year is also crap that you should clean your home of, I'm talking about salty and sugary and delicious crap!

I'm a snacker. I'm not big into big meals, I like to have little snacks whenever I'm actually feeling hungry. However, when there's chips or cakes or Double Bubble in the house, I'll snack on those,only because they’re there. It's all about eliminating to opportunity. I have a mega sweet tooth, but if there's no sweets in the house, I admit defeat and move on. And I don't feel guilty at the end of the day. Or get fat!

5. Having said that, get your just-desserts!

I'm not a drinker, so I don't really want to catch up over drinks, and caffeine makes my tummy angry so I don't love coffee dates. That's why I like cake dates! If you're strong enough to keep things in moderation, there's nothing wrong with having dessert for dinner, especially when sharing it with a friend (or lover). Just make sure you have fruits and veggies for breakfast and lunch first, lol. Unless its your Birthday! Then it's cake dates for all meals!

6. Nap!

This one is my favorite, and I did it all this year too! I just figure that by writing about it, it'll feel more justified. 

Sleep is good for you! I'm a firm believer in sleeping when you're sleepy. If the time is available, give your bod a break, and do not feel guilty about it, no matter what your boyfriend says! ;)

7. Listen to more (good) music. 

(and 'good' music is of course according to your own acquired taste)

I don't even remember the last time I realized I had a half hour to kill and turned iTunes on instead of streaming the 4th season on Criminal Minds. Maybe that's just my habit, and in all honesty I'll probably never break it completely (have you seen Criminal Minds?!), but nothing beats that feeling when your ear catches a beat and your whole soul is filled. Right now I only play the albums I was so excited to download (I wonder if anyone out there is resolving to stop illegally downloading...lol) when I'm at the gym. 

(I also need to go to the gym more then once a week.)

Spend time laying on your floor just listening to music. Loudly! Unless it's midnight and you don't live alone. 

8. Hug more!

I seriously think the world is in desperate need of more positive physical affection. 

I work in a school, so I know how antsy people can about physical contact. I remember the 'no touching' rule they tried out, when I was in high school. Teachers didn't feel comfortable singling out the slutty kids fornicating in front of homeroom, so instead they handed out detention to couple walking to class holding hands, and bffs hugging in the cafeteria. While I understand that we don't want to encourage kids to be freely sexual before they're old enough to be, I have always thought its wrong to unconsciously teach them that all touching is wrong. I'm sure that some parents may feel uncomfortable with teachers hugging their students, but at the same time, it'd just be rude for me to tell a 4 year old to fuck off when they come at me with open arms. 

Hugs are happy things! Challenge Day (Google it) taught us that 8 hugs a day helps a human being achieve maximum health and happiness. You should also look up the 'Free Hugs In Paris' video, and I dare you not to literally feel your heart grow. 

Some day I will teach my children that there are right and wrong ways to touch people. I'll tell them that there are in fact bad people out there who like to touch kids the wrong way, but that it's very ok to hug a classmate after they offer to share their (peanut free) snack. 

9. Get away. 

I've been lucky. I am lucky! My parents have two weeks of Myrtle Beach timeshare between the two of them, and my dad has this place in Florida that we can all take advantage of, so I get away a lot. And it feels good! 

But it doesn't take two weeks in the sun to feel that 'away' feeling. A sleepover in a hotel bed does the trick! And these days you can find all kinds of deals online for cheap rooms. Don't go drinking for a weekend or two, and you can 'get a room'! Make sure you go early, as soon as you're allowed to check in, and always ask for a late check out to maximize your vaca. Use up all the free shampoo, go to the pool, use their treadmills, get up early for the continental breakfast and then go back to bed. Even if the hotel is 10 minutes from your house, there's something about sleeping in a new bed and being away from the pile of laundry that's needed to be done for weeks, that rejuvenates the soul. 

10. Dance like nobody's watching (even though everyone IS watching because your moves are sweet).
Burning calories is never more fun then when you're doing it dancing. I think our bodies were built to dance! Whether its in your undies home alone, in a sweaty claustrophobic club, or on stage in a tutu, wake up your sleepy bored-just-walking muscles and groove. 

I love going out to dance with friends, but in these chilly months the desire lessens because of the wait outside. And sometimes after working all week I'm not motivated to shower and get dressed up for a Friday night out. So this year I'm going to work dance classes at the gym into my regular schedule. I actually haven't been to a class before, but something tells me it's far more fun, and passes the exercise-time faster then an elliptical. 

And that's all I've got for now! Hey, 10 things is a lot, lol. 

Below is the link to the article of inspiration. I don't normally ask things of 'my readers', but I'd really appreciate it if you could leave a comment adding to the list, adding to my list, suggestions to enhance our lives physically, emotionally, mentally, and personally in 2013. 

However you spend it, here's wishes for a brand-new beautiful year, from my castle to yours ;)


http://thoughtcatalog.com/2012/29-ways-to-make-2013-better/

My Princess Hair

Because I wanted to know

In the few days leading up to my IUD date, I spent obvious time Googling for tips and facts. Firstly, LEAST romantic date ever. Secondly, nothing I found online prepared me for this experience, and I knew no one personally who'd had an IUD, so I was blindsided. That's how my luck rolls!
There are a few most-important questions which I have now (after nearly 3 weeks) been able to answer for anyone who's considering taking similar steps down the PMS/birth control road. 

1. Does it hurt?
Fuck yes. 

Like a capitol F-uck. 

The night before the insertion procedure, you're given (and by given I mean it's just one more thing you have to PAY for) tablets. Thankfully, I had the mind to ask 'do you take them with food?' The answer is no, you stick them up your vagina!

The tablets are meant to help soften your cervix, to make the IUD insertion easier. The doctor and the pharmacist said you I was fine to do it right before bed. What they didn't specify is, if you plan on being too damn anxious to sleep, at least put them in before 2am. And drink LOTS. According to the poor nurse who had to witness my ordeal the next morning, part of the tablets were still just sitting around up in there, not doing their job. I'd taken an Ativan 20 minutes earlier, at least. 

The doctor puts that tube-thing in, and cracks it open. The first like...1.8 seconds is fine. It felt like the PAP swab they do during your annual check up. And then the tool hit what I am assuming was my actual uterus. And then there was this pain, that makes me nauseous just thinking about how to describe it. 

Ever stubbed your toe so suddenly and hard, that you feel nauseous? It was like electric shock therapy, inside my lower abdomen. But faulty shock therapy clearly, because my uterus is still a psychopathic asshole. The pain came so fast and so sharp that I just passed out. And my lovely doctor decided it beat to wait until I came to, and settled a little (aka took another Ativan) before telling me 'oh! We just have to go in there once more to finish up!' I THINK, after inserting the thing, the doctor then has to go back in to snip the wires. 

That time, the pain was bad enough to make me puke. While I had no pants on. Just gagging and chocking over a garbage can, in front of the doctor and the nurse and my boyfriend, with no pants on. A typical Monday morning, really! Luckily is been too nervous to eat. And luckily I knew myself and my anxiety well enough to take the day off ahead of time. Instead on taking my boyfriend out for breakfast as a 'thanks for holding my hand' treat, we went home and I took Gravol, and spooned my heating pad to sleep all day. 

2. Sex?

One thing I did find the night before my appointment, was a YouTube video by a girl who'd recently gotten her IUD, talking about sex. Apparently her doctor didn't cut the wires short enough, so the first time she and her husband had sex, 'it was like being stabbed repeatedly'. 

Ps. If I were being stabbed during sex, I'd probably just stop having sex. No?

Well, my wires were cut well! But that assurance hasn't made sex much easier. I hope that sooner then later I will simply forget all about this THING inside my body and go about regular business with no care at all, but for now it's all I can really think about. I've always been an over-thinker, and slightly paranoid! So of course any time there is a new, uncomfy feeling in there, I panic and assume its the IUD slowly chipping away at the walls of my uterus, like the Shawshank guy, desperate to escape. 

The doctor assured me that it was perfectly fine to have sex as soon as I wanted, after the procedure. But I think he was strictly referring to the physical fineness. It took some time for me to THINK that it was safe to have anything else in there, after the trauma it suffered in the doctors office. But maybe that's just me! 

3. What are the side effects?

This is one of those things that is different for everyone. All drugs work that way. While I was visiting Homewood, I sampled like 4 different anti anxiety meds, and only Celexa allowed me to feel the benefits without crazy side effects. I've definitely been enduring side effects with the IUD, though. Mind you it hasn't been quite 3 weeks yet, so I'm still hopeful everything will settle and regulate. 

I was most worried about the threat of acne. It's something I've always been self conscious about, though. I remember crying when going to my first dermatologist appointment in high school, because I had to leave the house without makeup. Actually, I only started on the pill to help with my face. It's the vanity in me, being more worried about zits, or weight gain, as a posed to my body physically rejecting the IUD, and bleeding out in my sleep. But my face is as fine as it was a month ago, and my appetite is actually smaller. 

My hormones feel completely fucked, on the other hand. It's like PMS 24/7, but with no threat of an actual tampon-needing period. Ive been spotting ever since, which i find revolting. When I'm on my period I always feel (on top of pain and nausea) unclean. It's a naturally messy situation that leaves me feeling gross even right out of the shower. The IUD is supposed minimize female-only costs by getting rid of your period, but so far it's been extra boxes of panty liners and baby wipes. 

Speaking of which, I've got to assume that people think I'm pregnant. I walk around holding my lower stomach (why do we think that this helps the hurt?), and the other day a father picking his kid up at school, caught me bent over in pain and asked if I was ok. My acting skills are fading...

Last weekend I cried approximately 94 times. I always felt choked up, just waiting for some Christmas commercial or hug good bye to set me off. I get awful cramps on and off all day...like 3000-4000mg of Advil a day-worth. And my nipples! I can not for the life of me even pull a Tshirt over my head without them hurting! I mean is that really necessary? Boobs were given to women for a very important reason, why must they become a punishment? Uteruses were also made part of a woman for a VERY important reason...don't even get me started on the unfairness of the female anatomy. 
1. Does it hurt?
Fuck yes. 
Like a capitol F-uck. 
The night before the insertion procedure, you're given (and by given I mean it's just one more thing you have to PAY for) tablets. Thankfully, I had the mind to ask 'do you take them with food?' The answer is no, you stick them up your vagina!
The tablets are meant to help soften your cervix, to make the IUD insertion easier. The doctor and the pharmacist said you I was fine to do it right before bed. What they didn't specify is, if you plan on being too damn anxious to sleep, at least put them in before 2am. And drink LOTS. According to the poor nurse who had to witness my ordeal the next morning, part of the tablets were still just sitting around up in there, not doing their job. I'd taken an Ativan 20 minutes earlier, at least. 
The doctor puts that tube-thing in, and cracks it open. The first like...1.8 seconds is fine. It felt like the PAP swab they do during your annual check up. And then the tool hit what I am assuming was my actual uterus. And then there was this pain, that makes me nauseous just thinking about how to describe it. 
Ever stubbed your toe so suddenly and hard, that you feel nauseous? It was like electric shock therapy, inside my lower abdomen. But faulty shock therapy clearly, because my uterus is still a psychopathic asshole. The pain came so fast and so sharp that I just passed out. And my lovely doctor decided it beat to wait until I came to, and settled a little (aka took another Ativan) before telling me 'oh! We just have to go in there once more to finish up!' I THINK, after inserting the thing, the doctor then has to go back in to snip the wires. 
That time, the pain was bad enough to make me puke. While I had no pants on. Just gagging and chocking over a garbage can, in front of the doctor and the nurse and my boyfriend, with no pants on. A typical Monday morning, really! Luckily is been too nervous to eat. And luckily I knew myself and my anxiety well enough to take the day off ahead of time. Instead on taking my boyfriend out for breakfast as a 'thanks for holding my hand' treat, we went home and I took Gravol, and spooned my heating pad to sleep all day. 
2. Sex?
One thing I did find the night before my appointment, was a YouTube video by a girl who'd recently gotten her IUD, talking about sex. Apparently her doctor didn't cut the wires short enough, so the first time she and her husband had sex, 'it was like being stabbed repeatedly'. 
Ps. If I were being stabbed during sex, I'd probably just stop having sex. No?
Well, my wires were cut well! But that assurance hasn't made sex much easier. I hope that sooner then later I will simply forget all about this THING inside my body and go about regular business with no care at all, but for now it's all I can really think about. I've always been an over-thinker, and slightly paranoid! So of course any time there is a new, uncomfy feeling in there, I panic and assume its the IUD slowly chipping away at the walls of my uterus, like the Shawshank guy, desperate to escape. 
The doctor assured me that it was perfectly fine to have sex as soon as I wanted, after the procedure. But I think he was strictly referring to the physical fineness. It took some time for me to THINK that it was safe to have anything else in there, after the trauma it suffered in the doctors office. But maybe that's just me! 
3. What are the side effects?
This is one of those things that is different for everyone. All drugs work that way. While I was visiting Homewood, I sampled like 4 different anti anxiety meds, and only Celexa allowed me to feel the benefits without crazy side effects. I've definitely been enduring side effects with the IUD, though. Mind you it hasn't been quite 3 weeks yet, so I'm still hopeful everything will settle and regulate. 
I was most worried about the threat of acne. It's something I've always been self conscious about, though. I remember crying when going to my first dermatologist appointment in high school, because I had to leave the house without makeup. Actually, I only started on the pill to help with my face. It's the vanity in me, being more worried about zits, or weight gain, as a posed to my body physically rejecting the IUD, and bleeding out in my sleep. But my face is as fine as it was a month ago, and my appetite is actually smaller. 
My hormones feel completely fucked, on the other hand. It's like PMS 24/7, but with no threat of an actual tampon-needing period. Ive been spotting ever since, which i find revolting. When I'm on my period I always feel (on top of pain and nausea) unclean. It's a naturally messy situation that leaves me feeling gross even right out of the shower. The IUD is supposed minimize female-only costs by getting rid of your period, but so far it's been extra boxes of panty liners and baby wipes. 
Speaking of which, I've got to assume that people think I'm pregnant. I walk around holding my lower stomach (why do we think that this helps the hurt?), and the other day a father picking his kid up at school, caught me bent over in pain and asked if I was ok. My acting skills are fading...
Last weekend I cried approximately 94 times. I always felt choked up, just waiting for some Christmas commercial or hug good bye to set me off. I get awful cramps on and off all day...like 3000-4000mg of Advil a day-worth. And my nipples! I can not for the life of me even pull a Tshirt over my head without them hurting! I mean is that really necessary? Boobs were given to women for a very important reason, why must they become a punishment? Uteruses were also made part of a woman for a VERY important reason...don't even get me started on the unfairness of the female anatomy. 
So, for now, this IUD business receives an F grade from me. I have decided that I'll give it 2 months. How can I voluntarily feel this way for more then 60 days? But when it makes you puke and pass out, it has to be worth it eventually, right? (I will continue to tell myself this for the next 37 days.)

How does one say 'Holy fuckballs that hurts', in French?

I'm not even in the mood to blog.  But I feel like its long-overdue.  And I am not able to sleep currently, blah blah blah!

Tomorrow is IUD day.  (I keep texting 'UTI' instead, which of course has a few very confused...)  I am torn, my feelings towards the whole idea.  My body and mind, also torn.  My anxiety and my uterus are torn as to which will KILL me first. 

My uterus feeling like shit is not new news.  And this is why the IUD was suggested in the first place.  It has now been a little over a year since my surgery, and after 8 or so months the symptoms came rolling back in.  Considering I'd been taking my pill daily (avoiding a period which is supposed to help avoid the Endo growth) it was instant discouragement that I came back so quickly.  I'd be more then happy to get under that little knife again!  It was well worth it, the months of pure normalcy I felt afterwards.  Alas, that apparently poses risks and so I am now set to try one more thing before we go there again.

Preventing the growth of a (obviously handsome) baby in my tummy before I'm ready for a (obviously handsome) baby is very important to me.  Also, avoiding Endo symptoms is very important to me (and everyone who has anything to do with me).  So after months of deliberation I have caved to the whole IUD thing. 

Why did I need convincing, if it will prevent babies and likely (hopefully) having a period ever again?  The idea of a foreign object permanently residing inside my body just throws me off.  My surgeon tried telling me (you have to picture it in a heavy Indian accent), 'this [his necklace] is a foreign object and these [my earrings] is a foreign object and they don't hurt you!'  I understand, Sir, but your necklace and my earrings are also not INSIDE MY VAGINA. 

Men.  They will never understand. 

I just figure that for the most part, we are made with all the parts we need already inside.  I think that doctors using pig valves to fix a patient's heart makes a little more sense, because that's somewhat natural.  But I giant plastic T with a tail, that is not in any way natural.  And for all I know, it could want to be in there even less then I want it to be in there!  And that is the last thing I need, thank you very much.  My surgeon claims that none of his patients have every rejected an IUD, but that's never stopped me before!

Honestly, I learned after Googling 'laparoscopy' the night before my surgery (and then having a small to moderate sized panic attack), that learning about possible negative side effects is even less necessary then learning long division.  I really do know how highly unlikely it is that this thing is going to rip a hole through my uterus and cause me to bleed out in my sleep.  But it would completely creep me out if I were to suddenly be walking around with fake boobs inside my chest.  And yes, over the last while I have considered what my anxiety may look like the day it realizes there is a human being growing inside of me.  This thing has the potential to be in there for the next 5 years!  And I'm picturing myself being able to feel it if I squish my tummy real hard!  (Barfy face)

As I mull over the anxiety that this teeny procedure and teeny apparatus is causing, my uterus cramps itself into a teeny knot, and I quickly remember the point behind it all.  If I don't fight off this killer IUD-related anxiety, my uterus is going to be the death of me instead.  This last week I have reminded myself multiple times, 'this is the last one!'  A menstrual cycle is what makes the Endometrial cells hurt so badly, and the IUD is supposed to retard my cycle.  No more gross periods equals no more Endometriosis equals no more uncomfy tampons equals no more cramps and nausea equals no more sick days equals no more anxiety!  The savings on feminine hygiene products alone should make me more excited for tomorrow morning. 

Maybe if you saw the size of the box that this IUD came in from the pharmacy, you'd think I was at least a little less crazy!  It's not bad enough that you have to lay on a cold table while some guy works a piece of plastic all the way up into your uterus, but you also have to pick the thing up (the $500 thing) from the pharmacy days before, and try not to have a panic attack while this giant box sits on your desk staring at you all day?!  I'd like to open it up and reassure myself that half of it is just packaging, but then I'm paranoid that there isn't enough packaging inside, and germs and bug would go rushing in once a seal is broken. 

Huhhhhhh. 

I need to just go to bed.  You have to shove drugs up there the night before, to prepare the cervix for insertion.  Just in case you were uncomfortable enough, I mean.  So falling asleep should also keep me from imagining the walls of my girl-organs slowly melting...

(Barfy face)

UPDATE:  Though I'd typed this last night, I was saving it to post today after the fact, planning to end with 'And alllll went well!'   I thought that'd be a funny ending, accepting that I was all stressed and nutso over nothing. 

However. 

I can't even describe the kind of pain that exploded inside of me body.  I'd taken the pre-meds and I took Advil 20 minutes prior as suggested, and I'd taken an Ativan as suggested by myself.  And I have that rare kind of boyfriend who doesn't complain about sitting in a little doctors office with his weirdo girlfriend.  We were laughing, we were watching my 3 year old sister get attacked in a Myrtle Beach tub, taking funny pictures of the faces I’d probably make during the procedure, and I was relaxed.  

For me, the best way to deal with any mounting anxiety is to joke about it and laugh it off, so I was making jokes with the surgeon, laughing off my anxiety, and I was feeling brave.  And then it started.  That scary crunching tube goes in first, fine.  Then he used some stick to clean things out, fine.  But when the instrument went in there, it was an instant and outrageous pain, like I had never felt before.  Pain that made me call for a garbage can, and throwing up is when the panic kicked in hard.  And that was only part 1!  He still had to get in there once more, and the doctor and the lovely nurse and my poor boyfriend were telling me to let him just do it and get over with so it could just be over.  And their logic was logical, but it takes more then talk to convince me to welcome that pain again, when my anxious brain is so sure that another round will legitimately kill me. 

I took more Ativan, which I think I threw up, and then when I made it into the bathroom my boyfriend brought me Gravol and Imodium. 

We spent a good half extra hour in that office, before I was ok to stand up and make my way home to a Popsicle and a good, good nap.  I'm anxious to go into work tomorrow.  There is still an utter ache inside of me, it hurts when I walk and when I breathe.  I'm anxious to find out whether or not this ordeal will be worth it.  I will not settle for this ache, for more then a week.  At least my Endo pain an nausea was on and off, and only really bad around my period.  So far, this pain is constant, and I'll be completely drained if this continues much longer. 

Ps.  I put huge tampons up there on a regular basis.  And an even larger penis has been up in there!  So how the hell does a teeny instrument inserting a teeny piece of plastic, cause SO MUCH PAIN?!! 

I'm going to end this now, before I start ranting about how unfair it is to be a woman.  And then I may never stop.  I mean, c’mon.

Fucking girl parts.