Demoralized By Nazi She-Vampires!
Feeling slightly better today.
By which I mean I feel like my uterus has been stomped on and then, for good measure, a dwarf in iron boots kicked my cervix in. The bruising in my nether regions has started to make itself known. Oh, and I think the technical word for my state of mind is "demoralized," though it could be strongly argued that I had no morals to begin with.
The underlying issue is getting resolved. I have alternate methods of semi-permanent birth control lined up for myself, and possibly something permanent for Sargon.
I'm still not likely to be around a whole hell of a lot for the next few days. I just got dealt a pretty heavy blow, no matter how philosophically neat I think it is to be "probably" sterile, and how happy it makes me to be able to say that.
You see (and I don't think I made this abundantly clear in the last post) "probably" sterile isn't going to cut it, folks. I have to be sure the baby thing doesn't happen. Moreso now that I know how bad it would be if I did get pregnant. Before, I was thinking the worst that'd happen would be some morning sickness until I could Hoover the little bastard out. Now, with my uterus like the Plateau of Leng, pregnancy becomes a minefield of horrors, even worse than it was before. And even though this attempt at sterilization failed Homerically, I'm still out the time, money, and pain, just as much as if it had gone through. So the bright side is small and not so shiny, and I'm not much feeling the love for anything right now, let alone my life.
To let you know how utterly miserable I am, I will tell you right now that I actually felt the Satanic pull and nearly posted a quiz, some song lyrics, and a two-paragraph typo-laden cryptic emo rant that is either about my intent to commit suicide or poison the neighbor's dog. I'm depressed on a level that livejournal and e-hugs and free advice and offers of chocolate just won't touch. (Which is why you'll probably see a lot of comments disabled posts, or why I just won't get them emailed to me.)
Still no idea if I'm going to feel well enough to go back to class next week. It's more than a physical thing, it's mental, too, and I haven't felt up to it at all since December. I feel bad . . . I hate leaving the girls, and I feel like I've abandoned the troupe, but how do I explain that, really, things have been incredibly shitty both physically and emotionally, I'm exhausted creatively and physically, I'd really rather not inflict myself on other people, and that I haven't felt up to putting up with the parts of class I don't really enjoy, therefore, it's better for everyone if I just stay away until I can work through some things? It makes things worse that a lot of the girls balance far more, far better than I do. So I feel guilty on top of everything else.
Ugh.
Crowning all this are the panic attacks triggered by close proximity to the medical profession. I know lots of people shoot their mouths off about being phobic about doctors and wah, wah, wah, but I am not bullshitting. If I had not wanted to be sterile (ha ha, joke's on you!) so badly I could fucking taste it with my eyeballs, I would never have braved even ten minutes in that Godforsaken hellpit of a hospital. Jesus. And to have people pawing at my naked body while I lay there, insensible . . . I have flashbacks to that shit, I swear. I woke up last night and didn't know where the fuck I was, and I haven't liked letting anyone touch me or even stand close to me since I came home. So this has been the furthest thing from easy for me, and not getting anything for all my pain is only making it harder to deal with. And that makes me feel like a pussy, which makes me feel worse than ever.
In good news, I finished another box. One more to go, and then some logo work, and I'll be done with art projects for now.
Right now I'm going to quit typing, because it really hurts my hand where they had the IV in, and I'm going to try to get some sleep. Sleep that does not come with nightmares and panic attacks.
Oh, yeah. About that sleep.
True statement: I had a dream about being tortured by Nazi she-vampires a few nights ago. A vividly awful dream involving branding irons, knives, silver nails, strap-ons, blowjobs with fangs, and blood snowballs. (Taste the rainbow, bitch!)
THAT dream, which was genuinely horrid no matter how titillating it sounds (and was), which had me lying awake in an icy sweat, which still makes me twitch to recall it, is infinitely preferable to the crap I have been enduring the past two nights.
You know your dreams are bad when having one Nazi she-vampire vomit your own blood back into your mouth while the other sodomizes you with a silver-studded strap-on seems really, really good in comparison.
Because I'm witty and sarcastic and fun, and because I can laugh even when things are horrible, you may think my brain is a fun place, too. Trust me. You really, really, really don't want to be here. No matter how much you think you do.
Holy shit, they were really hot vampires, though.
link
By which I mean I feel like my uterus has been stomped on and then, for good measure, a dwarf in iron boots kicked my cervix in. The bruising in my nether regions has started to make itself known. Oh, and I think the technical word for my state of mind is "demoralized," though it could be strongly argued that I had no morals to begin with.
The underlying issue is getting resolved. I have alternate methods of semi-permanent birth control lined up for myself, and possibly something permanent for Sargon.
I'm still not likely to be around a whole hell of a lot for the next few days. I just got dealt a pretty heavy blow, no matter how philosophically neat I think it is to be "probably" sterile, and how happy it makes me to be able to say that.
You see (and I don't think I made this abundantly clear in the last post) "probably" sterile isn't going to cut it, folks. I have to be sure the baby thing doesn't happen. Moreso now that I know how bad it would be if I did get pregnant. Before, I was thinking the worst that'd happen would be some morning sickness until I could Hoover the little bastard out. Now, with my uterus like the Plateau of Leng, pregnancy becomes a minefield of horrors, even worse than it was before. And even though this attempt at sterilization failed Homerically, I'm still out the time, money, and pain, just as much as if it had gone through. So the bright side is small and not so shiny, and I'm not much feeling the love for anything right now, let alone my life.
To let you know how utterly miserable I am, I will tell you right now that I actually felt the Satanic pull and nearly posted a quiz, some song lyrics, and a two-paragraph typo-laden cryptic emo rant that is either about my intent to commit suicide or poison the neighbor's dog. I'm depressed on a level that livejournal and e-hugs and free advice and offers of chocolate just won't touch. (Which is why you'll probably see a lot of comments disabled posts, or why I just won't get them emailed to me.)
Still no idea if I'm going to feel well enough to go back to class next week. It's more than a physical thing, it's mental, too, and I haven't felt up to it at all since December. I feel bad . . . I hate leaving the girls, and I feel like I've abandoned the troupe, but how do I explain that, really, things have been incredibly shitty both physically and emotionally, I'm exhausted creatively and physically, I'd really rather not inflict myself on other people, and that I haven't felt up to putting up with the parts of class I don't really enjoy, therefore, it's better for everyone if I just stay away until I can work through some things? It makes things worse that a lot of the girls balance far more, far better than I do. So I feel guilty on top of everything else.
Ugh.
Crowning all this are the panic attacks triggered by close proximity to the medical profession. I know lots of people shoot their mouths off about being phobic about doctors and wah, wah, wah, but I am not bullshitting. If I had not wanted to be sterile (ha ha, joke's on you!) so badly I could fucking taste it with my eyeballs, I would never have braved even ten minutes in that Godforsaken hellpit of a hospital. Jesus. And to have people pawing at my naked body while I lay there, insensible . . . I have flashbacks to that shit, I swear. I woke up last night and didn't know where the fuck I was, and I haven't liked letting anyone touch me or even stand close to me since I came home. So this has been the furthest thing from easy for me, and not getting anything for all my pain is only making it harder to deal with. And that makes me feel like a pussy, which makes me feel worse than ever.
In good news, I finished another box. One more to go, and then some logo work, and I'll be done with art projects for now.
Right now I'm going to quit typing, because it really hurts my hand where they had the IV in, and I'm going to try to get some sleep. Sleep that does not come with nightmares and panic attacks.
Oh, yeah. About that sleep.
True statement: I had a dream about being tortured by Nazi she-vampires a few nights ago. A vividly awful dream involving branding irons, knives, silver nails, strap-ons, blowjobs with fangs, and blood snowballs. (Taste the rainbow, bitch!)
THAT dream, which was genuinely horrid no matter how titillating it sounds (and was), which had me lying awake in an icy sweat, which still makes me twitch to recall it, is infinitely preferable to the crap I have been enduring the past two nights.
You know your dreams are bad when having one Nazi she-vampire vomit your own blood back into your mouth while the other sodomizes you with a silver-studded strap-on seems really, really good in comparison.
Because I'm witty and sarcastic and fun, and because I can laugh even when things are horrible, you may think my brain is a fun place, too. Trust me. You really, really, really don't want to be here. No matter how much you think you do.
Holy shit, they were really hot vampires, though.
link