*Because this old one was funny. To me :-)
Sunday night, right now, in two weeks even.
All good times to NOT reassess anything about my life. Seriously. And I keep reminding myself of this very real fact.
Because right now, I am injecting drugs that manipulate my brain, bloodstream and hormone levels. That is serious stuff there. Each night I am grabing a vial of who-knows-what, a syringe with a needle, the required alcohol swab and jabing myself in the abdomen. I'm getting better at it. Or worse at it, I'm not sure.
This is all the change I can deal with right now. On the list of things that I'm not dealing with for a few weeks are:
Radical clothing style changes. Marriage arguments: big small important dumb financial sexual. Body image (further explained later). Deep meaningful how-the-world-came-to-be or how-to-fix-our-mother-earth discussions. My opinions about further piercings or initial tattoos (enough needles, really). Serious friendship evaulations - we can hash these out if necessary in a month or so. School, as I have been granted official entry into the librarianshipenhoodsmith program and have yet to sign my acceptance letter (I'm also crusing through that pre-requisite class that I care little about). There are probably other things I just won't be able to deal with.
So there is a lot of trust happening right now. I am trusting we made the right decision and I need to let everything else ride. Just go to work, come home, eat and inject. Take one day at a time, prepare for tomorrow, but no further. I've never done that before. Willingly. I am trusting that my body will (no actual ending to this sentence)
You should see what I just emailed my friends. It was funny. To me. In a sick twisted way.
(I think this was the email, but not sure) Bring on the blousey shirts/dresses, the bloating is about to get out of control. The only thing worse than being asked if you're pregnant and not being, is being asked while going through IF treatments (take a moment and imagine that heartbreaking mindfuck for a moment). So yeah, I'm trying to avoid that after everyone is leaping to that conclusion with the heartburn thing. I figure, wearing mostly blousey, but interspersing (on skinny days when I don't eat) with tighter tees/belts won't allow any terrible conclusions. This bloating is only set to get worse over the next three weeks though. Should I make some muu-muus? Also, the bloating can be painful while trying to sleep because where do you put the strangely distended belly?
Good lord, only obese people are sitting in the carry out parking slots at Applebee's with me. Is that a message?
Also, word to the wise. Blog post coming soon. Maybe. If I can organize thoughts coherently. Now is not a good time for serious changes involving me or not involving me. Like no random decisions to move or "discuss" our friendships or call me a selfish whore or even decide a third or fourth child is right for your families. Seriously, I am emotionally unstable. If you've got massive stuff, just let it ride for three to five weeks before telling me, okay? Because I am not okay. Like I am in my head when rational Anne is home, but when that controlling coke whore leaves for a grocery pick up, all is not good in the hood. Got it? Love you both, please don't be casualties. So far, so good, but I'm on guard. I just want a baby, damnit. See, and truly, that's your reward - another snotty fussy human-in-waiting for the flock because I want to CONTRIBUTE for goshdarnsake.
Ahh, all written with a teaspoon of sugar. Sort of. Except that life changes thing. Because I am a selfish whore - I just don't want you mentioning it for awhile, okay?
- Posted from my mobile phone
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