No Touchie

It's not very often I use my blog as a forum to lament about personal trials. I most often use it as a forum to share the crazy and random things that happen to me or that I notice. Every so often though I'll man up, so to speak, and discuss something that is deeply personal and/or something that could qualify as a trail or tribulation. Tonight would be one such night. I was at my counseling appointment today (before you even ask, yes...more than likely i am crazy) and I was discussing some aah..concerns with my councelor, mostly regarding my dating life. It was in the middle of the appointment that I had a realization. It had been over a week since anyone had touched me. In any way shape or fashion. No hugs, no causal caress, hell I hadn't even been jostled one good time. It made me go back and re exam the past several months. And the realization was shocking. I can think of only 2 instances since Feb that I have been kissed on, or shown any type of affection by a member of the opposite sex. Even less than that for friends and family members. I can hear it now, you're thinking I'm exaggerating, not remembering the small few times someone has come up and put there hand on me, or perhaps patted my shoulder. I promise you, I have an uncanny memory and I went back through the days and there has been no such contact, save for those two instances and a weekend in Chicago with my best Friend.
And there I sat. Tears running down my face discussing this with my councilor. There are not words to describe the despondency that I felt at this realization. Still feel, now, hours after I left her office. I'm still not quite sure which is bothering me more, the fact that this is happening in my life, or I've become so acclimated to it that there was no notice of it until today.
How many of us go through a day with out touching the people we love? Touch establishes intimacy, trust, it is a form of communication. It soothes, it consoles, it speaks to the heart in a way that no words can ever come close to. How many of us take for granted the people that we could reach out to and lay a hand on? How many take for granted that there is merely someone there that could be touched? How many touch and never realize what it could mean to live with out it? To many I think.
There is no one in my foreseeable future that is going to change this. Perhaps I'll make it a game. See how many days I go before I'm given a hug, or some one comes up and pats my back. In return, I shall make a point to touch those that I care about more often, to show them in my actions how much they mean to me, though it is a very small list and those that mean the most live the farthest away. Yes..a game it shall be. Tomorrow shall be day 1. My councilor gave me a hug before I left.

Observation

So I've been reading other peoples blogs, and I have to say I've had a realization. There are other people who quite possibly might be as funny, witty, clever and have a much better way with words than me. *insert awkward silence here* No no it's ok, to all the imaginary readers I have, it's really ok, put down the pitch forks. These things happen. Fortunately my ego is HUGE, and in about 15 minutes I will have successfully forgotten about all this. I have this incredible ability to simply forget/block out anything that could potentially or in retrospect make me feel bad about my self, feel uncomfortable and/or just generally awkward

Thus...I don't remember most of my life.

A Rant

Dear Boss

You are crap. And I would tell you why, I have a whole list of reason to declare, but I also have shit luck, and as such one of the 3 people who read this blog would probably recognize you, the facility, figure out who I am and I, subsequently, would loose my job. And then I'd be even more broke than I am now and would not be able to hire a lawyer to represent me in a wrongful termination suite. You are very very lucky.

But know this, as I mentioned above you are most definitely crap. The runny kind. And everybody feels the same way I do.

Sincerely,
Your faithful employee

I'm Retarded

I can admit it. I've been dicking around this site for the past 30 mins updating my information, and every so often checking my profile to see how many times it's been viewed and getting all excited because it's up to 31...yeah..that was me the whole time. I didnt realize that every time I looked at my own profile it was counting that.

So I'm stupid. And trust me...it hurts.

Kate..apperently I'm writing just for you. We might as well be txting.

Things

Well...it's been quite the week. There was a coup at work. Results are mixed. I did not succeed in replacing the a for mentioned girl at work nor in taking her position. However Things I did accomplish: a awkward and unproductive phone conversation with my boss involving the co worker, a come to Jesus talk (again) with the coworker and actually reaching an understanding this time, I hope (in all seriousness, I really like this person as an actual person, it's just very very hard working with her-I'm not saying anything here I've not said to her face btw- and I really hope that this time our understanding will stick..I'd hate to have to kill her.)

In other News:

I managed to consume almost a whole box of Pepto Bismal chewable tablets and have here by seem to be managing my heartburn.
I went to a hippy retreat/black panther meeting over the weekend...will be blogging on that just as soon as I have time.
Got a goldfish on Sat...bonded with Cornelius by the time I got home by telling it my whole life's story...by Sunday the he was sickly and as I write this he is now teetering between life an death. I would like to say for the record that if something unfortunate happens to this fish..and by unfortunate I mean it dies...I'm going to be devastated. *insert awkward silence here*
I still am not tan...it has become my personal mission in life to become tan. I'm merely less white.

Random Txt...

This is a txt I sent out while at the Hippy compound on Sat to let everyone know I was still alive

"Ok thus far we have eaten all vegan fair and now we are resting for an hour until the bell chimes taking the opportunity to journal and reconnect before the next wrk shop begins...um it's a compound type place, I opted not to drink the KoolAid, and thank god hippies don't get violent."
... so yeah...I don't think there's really anything left to say after that.

An uber secret, Heart Burn, and random txt's

I don't "blog" in the typical sense. I usually wait until something exciting happens (which doesn't take long) and then form a prolific essay type blog that gets posted to my myspace (and now this glorious site-that I hope has spell check and it does..yesss). Then I wait for the 7 people who follow my blog to read it and comment on it thusley validating myself while building my self esteem. However, I have decided that I'm going to try a different approach. I'm going to try giving high lites of my days because honestly they are pretty f'ing random and saving the the essay type blogs for the really big and crazy stuff that seems to happen on a pretty regular bases. So here we go

First...I have a HUGE OUTSTANDING secret, which unfortunately I can't tell you. But trust me, it is wondrous glorious news that is killing me, KILLING me to not be able to tell EVERYBODY. To the person that this secret is in relation to...you know who you are (we just confirmed id by the top secret virtual handshake) I love you, and I call first dibs.

Second...I don't know why this would be of any particular interest to anybody other than myself but I have heart burn. Concern. I don't get it very often. Observation- I think that one of the girls I work with is giving me an ulcer. Note to self, plan a office coup coordinated via the inter office mail system to remove her from her position and subsequently take it over.

Third...I don't know why but these are just two of the txt msg's i sent out today and in retrospect are note worthy.

"I failed to mention earlier this evening that while at work i accomplished a small miracle I made the perfect cup of ramen noodles using only a Styrofoam cup a microwave and my wits a feat that i hope i will be able to duplicate on a regular bases and until moments ago was unsurpassable, yes i say moments as i have discovered the perfect peanut butter to jelly ratio hereby creating the perfect Pb and j sandwich *insert look of humble assent* I know, i know. I am obviously outstanding"-from me to everybody in my phone book

"So..the Muslim courier is telling us about the time her husband paid a hooker in Manhattan 25 cents to stick his fingers in her front butt..and I've decided for my bday i want an Elvis impersonator/stripper"- sent to a select few people

I have quite the life.

Congratulations! You're a Woman!!!

　

At the age of 27 I can count on one hand the few times I’ve had my period. This is due to suffering from a very common affliction that a surprising number of women have, one out of three to be exact. Poly Cystic Ovarian Syndrome, or simply PCOS. A mostly unpleasant syndrome involving hormones, insulin and my uterus; there is nothing life threatening about PCOS, and other than for some unfortunate side effects it’s mostly just a minor inconvenience. One such “side effect” would be, that unless I’m taking birth control and my sugar pill, my body will not ovulate and will not shed the uterine wall lining. I’ll translate. No period. Ever.

I decided, why I’m don’t really know, to get healthy and improve my over all quality of life. Thusly I quit smoking, joined a gym, started watching my diet and am getting divorced. Since I was making obvious and drastic changes and reductions to my life for some reason or another I decided to start taking my medication. And exactly 28 days later started what I’m here after referring to as hell week.

It started very slowly. First was the initial onset of PMS, or premenstrual syndrome. From my research and experience with the girls at work, this varies. Some women start pms’ing a week or so before, others during the week of. Some (lucky bitches…yeah I went there) not at all. Mine started about 6 days prior to my white pills. I watched my hormones take over my body with an almost morbid fascination. First I was irritable and cranky. Everything was an annoyance sent by the devil to torment me. Then there was a bout of melodramatic over reaction and exaggeration to small occurrences. Then came the feeling’s. All of a sudden I had feelings on just about everything and those seemed to be sadness, despondency and a overall feeling of general morose. My body decided that the only way to deal with said feelings was to cry about it. All the time. Over everything….everything.

Then came the eating. Primarily chocolate. I didn’t understand. Under normal circumstances I’m not a fan of it unless it’s covering peanut butter or something salty. But anything sweet, chocolaty or just generally fattening went into my mouth. Then, then came this other…feeling. I got horny. A lot. All the time. In almost a constant state of arousal, I went through a hole pack of batteries, discovered 2 new free porn sites online, and probably scared the bejesus out of my gym bitch….mostly regarding his brother. Obviously, after 27 years of virtually never going through this, it was a traumatic and emotionally scaring week….for me as well as everybody else.

I decided that when the period actually started, I would be ready. I went online and looked at graphs and pictures so that I would know exactly what was happening to my body each step of the way. I polled my friends, bought a box of tampons and pads. Had designated 7 sets of panties specifically for my time of the month. And then I waited. I wasn‘t disappointed. Two days into my white pills I started cramping and bloating. The cramps, oh my god the cramps. There are not words to describe the constant pain of having an organ squeeze itself. Like my uterus was giving itself a hug, constantly. Then my back. Back and forth. My stomach and my back. A constant dull ache that rolls over you. (Ironically the only thing that really helped was Midol and masturbation. Life is funny that way sometimes) Still I waited. Day 3 into my white pills. Nothing. Day 4, nothing. Thinking I might have possibly dodged a bullet, I went to bed. However, I woke up the afternoon of day 5 in silent horror wondering where the horse head was. It. Was. Everywhere. Hell yes I panicked. And of course, since my body the week prior had already decided how we were handling anything that happened to me, I cried.

I spent most of day 5 in disgusted horror at what my body was discharging. And after one awkward phone call from my best friend explaining to me the logistical application of the tampon and coming to terms with my gross immaturity, I decided I wanted nothing more to do with any of this. Ever. I still feel that way, even now, on the afternoon of day six. I have come to several conclusions. First, there is nothing natural about bleeding for 7 days; second, of all the places that this could be excreted from, why it has to come from my front butt is beyond me. Thirdly, I don’t feel more of a woman for having suffered through it. And fourthly, I can say, that there is absolutely nothing that makes going through this worth it. Save for confirming I’m not pregnant. But unless it’s an immaculate conception, I’m not even given that small respite.

However, it is over. Well not over, but it will be soon. And hopefully my life and my body will gradually return to normal. I feel better prepared next month for what will happen. I will make some small changes in my coping plan, be a little better prepared and at the very least, the instructional video for tampon insertion wont be necessary. Thanks any way Allison.