High Hopes

New plan.  Post before reading.  I get so into reading what everyone else is writing and then I can’t find the words to post about my own stuff.  So here’s the dealio:  As I mentioned before, I’ve been sort of overwhelmed with some things.  My parents were here a couple of weekends ago, which was great- they came specifically to help me clean up and organize my apartment (Trust me, I needed outside help!).  But I was so sick the whole time.  I didn’t want to eat, I didn’t want to do anything, I couldn’t sleep, and dang it, throwing stuff away is HARD for me.  It was work, just sitting there watching my mom go through stuff asking me if I was keeping this or getting rid of that.  So I was exhausted after they left.  Slept for like 24 hours after that.  (But my apartment looks much better now, less depressing, so thanks mom!)

Anyway, I’ve just been getting sicker and sicker.  Feeling crappy more often than not.  No appetite, losing weight, not sleeping, more pain.  I finally heard back from my surgeon who had taken my biopsy slides and history to a “conference” she has with other IBD specialists in the area.  They all pretty much agreed that I had chronic pouchitis and it wasn’t going away.  I could keep trying to treat it medicinally, but she (and they) felt like it was really only worth it if I needed that peace of mind of feeling like i had exhausted every single option.  They all felt that it would probably end the same way- needing to have the pouch removed and having a permanent illeostomy.

I had already decided after the miserable weekend with my folks, I was having surgery of some sort.  I am just too exhausted to keep going like this and to not be able to enjoy spending time with loved ones.  We moved to this town a year ago and I literally don’t know anyone here because I rarely leave the house.  No friends.  No family.  Just the hubster- who is wonderful and all, but ya know we need more than that.  So I’d been doing the research.  I spent a lot of time over at jpouch.org and I did a lot of research on k-pouches and the BCIR.  These are basically similar in that they still use an internal pouch like I have with my j-pouch, but instead of wearing an ostomy bag, you plug a catheter into it to empty a few times a day.  But no outside appliance to wear.  So it sounds pretty good.  But I can still get pouchitis with it and likely would since I’ve had it already.  The pouchitis might cause symptoms like cramping, stomach pain, and fatigue but I wouldn’t have to worry about urgency and continence anymore.  The other drawback is that there are only a few places that do k-pouches or BCIR.  And if I have a problem then I have to fly to wherever I had the surgery done intially to get it fixed.  So it could end up being costly and still not resolve some of my main issues, namely the fatigue.

So I had a lot of decision making to do there.  But I’ve decided the traditional illeostomy has the best chance to make me feel better so that’s what I’m doing.  (It’s possible I may be able to try a k-pouch later down the road, but that depends on different things.)  So Nov 7 I am having the surgery done.  When I come out of it, I’ll have a hole in my stomach with my gut sticking out and what they call a “barbie butt”.  Yeah.  They’re gonna totally sew up my back end.  Which, I think right now, is bothering me more than anything.  And it’s really hard to put words to it, but I think that when you’ve survived bodily trauma, you become extra protective of your physical identity.  And now, once again, I feel like life is just laughing at me right in the face.  Growing up LDS, you’re told “your body is a temple; that’s why you don’t get tattoos and piercings, etc”  But I feel like “God/life/chance/universe/whatever” has done more damage to my body than anything I have ever chosen to do.  At least when I get a tattoo or pierce my nose, or color my hair blue and green, it’s my choice and it comes from a place of honoring my body and the person who lives in it.

*sigh* I’m delving into a new topic there… anyway, bottom line.  Big life changes goin’ on, and I HATE CHANGE.  Do NOT WANT.  But such is life… mine anyway.

=-=-= For the record, I do know that some people out there have it far worse or have had similar experiences.  It’s not the end of the world for me.  It’s just tough going through and I need to talk about it somewhere!

I’m going to add this video.  The song has been in my head all day… it makes me grieve for lost innocence and lost dreams… and… just makes me feel so many things.

And the questions pour out…

So it’s been awhile since I had my last BIG anxiety attack (the kind where I want to crawl walls and rip my hair out.)  I don’t know why things were going well- had decided to attribute it to therapy.  And that probably is it.  BUT as I posted previously- I am having ANGER these last few days.  And I don’t deal well with anger.  I just don’t even know what to do with it.  Few things really even make me angry, but not feeling in control and feeling invalidated or used will make me angry.  My last post- the car smashing- that was about not feeling in control with my health issues, which I’ve already ranted about, so I won’t again.  (not right now, anyway!)

I had trouble sleeping that night, all the anger and anxiety.  Finally started to doze off a couple of hours before my dental appointment, but you take what you can get, right?  I kid you not, I had just relaxed when I got a bunch of txt messages.  From my brother.  Who I’m going to call Alec.  I ADORE my brother.  I can’t even tell you how awesome I truly think he is.  But he has the same capacity for just pure #$%#$^.

I crave closer relationships with all of my family.  Alec in particular is very distant.  He has told me in the past that he avoids me because he can’t deal with what happened to me (the assault.)  That hurts like hell, but I have to respect where he is too, ya know?  At the same time, he’s… not stable.  Just a few years ago, he stabbed himself in the stomach with a huge knife because he was angry.  I’m not really sure if that was a suicide attempt, but there have been those.  And he takes his anger out on himself.  I worry about him all the time, but never really know how he is doing because he tries to hide everything.  So Wed, when I got his txt asking for money because he’s going to get evicted… I was sick with worry and anger.  Anger because I know he is trying to manipulate me right now (this is the only time he makes contact) and worry because I don’t want to see him in trouble!  So- both anger triggers hit.  And everything just snowballed into that awful anxiety again.

How do you help someone you love that refuses to be helped?  I know this post probably makes no sense whatsoever.  I feel protective of my little brother and so frustrated at the same time that I have left a lot of things unsaid.  On the plus side- it sounds like he was able to avoid eviction for now.  So there’s some relief.  But sadness too.

This may seem so random, but I think of my brother when I hear this song.  It sings to my worst fears, but also my wishes to understand better what he is going through so I could help.  Except, if he doesn’t want my help… do I have any right to try to give that to him?   I don’t know any of these answers.  So here’s a song to ruin your day…

 

Why can’t -I- have a car to beat up?

What’s this?  2 posts in one day?

*sigh*  I feel anger right now.  It’s 6:30 am and it’s keeping me awake.  I actually have a dental appointment in 4 hours.  Another thing that brings me great joy :\

I’m pretty sure I’m just frustrated about feeling out of control with my health stuff.  Well, yeah, I’m sure that’s what it is.  But it doesn’t stop me from being angry and jealous that these people have cars they can beat the shit out of and take their frustration out on.  I want one…  😦


Maybe I can have one for Christmas???

ASDFJKL;

kjfdsk;lpdrswe,cxz/’;;sdn,vflzd.m;sdxlkl;fskc;d.,.cfd,m.f/.dfznkcm,ncfas;lkpoqwkjbjkdafgkljeaw:FLKewaqoiu4qtiouare;polgreakegkjafhenbLL/KAERKJBHGLAREGKJDAGJHAE;RIGAERKLAGKHDFGOIEPO4-OLGKBGMBN ,.FSLKG’SD;LFKG’LDKG’S;LKFG’;LSDKG;LDKG’;LDKGC,.BNM ERTI[WROW];LFBLFMBFLKS’KLGLDFKG;LDBMLKHJDLKGERPO[WPO[WPORWEPRL ;LMKG S;LKFG JPOLI ;LDKFG L

E[ROIARIEGJ GEA;RPOOITORIU585OIAL ; RKKJAH;ALEJKjh lh;lss;lklskhjksjabgKL,.Mlkuu98AGLNKKFLSGJR9RIKJ S’SPEORIT JMVBF;D:OE4IT ,V.D/S

THAT IS ALL.

Modest? Hottest? …Goddess.

I know I’ve been away a while… I’ve been kinda wrapped up in me and not very good about getting it out the last couple weeks.  But I thought I’d give it a try tonight, even though I haven’t yet decided what to write about.  (This is one of my problems, dealing with perfection and imagining the perfect post before I ever sit down…)  But tonight I’ll throw caution to the wind and just write about what is on my mind at the very moment.

I just got done reading through a blog post my cousin shared on facebook- “Modest is not Hottest”.  http://mylifeasacraig.blogspot.com/2014/06/modest-is-not-hottest.html?m=1.  There are some good points made.  I too, grew up LDS, and modesty was always at the forefront of lectures and lessons.  My family took the religion pretty seriously, my dad was the Bishop for many years… there wasn’t a lot of stretching room when it came to what was “right” and what was “wrong”.  I think the author is right when she talks about the conflicting messages about what is “hot”, but I felt there was still such a strong focus on dress and appearance being the way to catch the “right” guy.  I think what is hot, what is sexy and appealing is CONFIDENCE and there is nothing wrong with being hot, sexy or attractive when it comes from a place of confidence.  Knowing who you are and loving who you are, regardless of what style of clothing you choose to wear.  And I think this pushes a button for me, because I think about the personality traits that made me a target to a perpetrator.  And I feel like all those lectures and lessons actually taught me SHAME.  To this day, I’m uncomfortable wearing anything that even remotely accentuates my breasts.  My mom didn’t allow me to go bra-less at home because it might makes my dad or my brothers uncomfortable.  Frankly, that just creeped me out.  And lectures about mowing the lawn in a tank top or showing too much (any) cleavage… I always felt like breasts were these things I had to keep hidden at all costs- something I should be ashamed of having.  I’m not saying modesty isn’t a good policy, but I think it’s a deeper issue than that.

I wish in church I’d been taught how to feel okay about myself, even if I was surrounded by a group full of mean nasty assholes in my classes.  Seriously, people still talk about how no one wanted to teach our age group.  I wish confidence, anger, and how it was ok to put my needs first, how I didn’t need to be nice to every asshole I met, that it was ok for me to make choices, even if they turned out to be the wrong choice, it was still ok to make that mistake and learn from it.  Instead, I was taught shame and guilt for not feeling the way I was supposed to feel.  I learned to be afraid of choices… if the “right” choice wasn’t so clear.  I learned to turn the other cheek and always love your neighbor.  I was taught to “be a good person” instead of “be a whole person” (goddess).  And I think if I’d learned these lessons earlier on in life, maybe my neighbor (always love your neighbor) would not have seen me as a target.

I realize this post is sort of rambly.  When I read it back, I hope it makes some sense.  I’m not posting to tear apart the other girls thoughts, ’cause she does say some good things there and maybe someone out there needs to hear what she has to say.  It just triggered some different thoughts in me that I have wanted to share because they have bothered me a long time.  So there it is.

And now for the completely random fanvid….. ummmm…. well… still reeling from Supernatural’s S9 finale.  So I guess I’ll post one related to that.   Oooh.  Found a couple that make it not so random because they’re about Dean, who still doesn’t believe he’s a thing worthy of being saved.  If anyone needs to learn to be a whole person and to feel ok about himself, it’s Dean.  So here’s two videos that show this (two of my very favorite right now…)

“Worthy” by Volta1228

“Say Something” by Shelly

 

the sky is paper

I had planned to write a second post much sooner as I was really excited about starting this blog, but sometimes the words get all stuck somewhere and it takes more time than I’d like for them to work their way out.  Kinda having one of those moments now, but all the thinky thoughts are keeping me awake.  Wide awake.  I think they are meant to distract me from this gaping hole I feel in my chest right now.  Don’t know where it came from.  It wasn’t there an hour ago when I went to bed… but it sure came along in full force shortly after.  I never sleep after that.

My therapist has been trying to convince me that I can feel safe.  That I can be “aware” without being hyper-vigilant.  I seem to strongly disagree.  My husband has been working overnight shifts this week, which left me home alone all night.  Of course, my plan to deal with this is to stay up all night till he gets home.  Or at least until daylight.  I usually feel much better when the sun is out.  For the most part, this works because I generally sleep like crap anyway so I do this when he is home sometimes as well.  He’s back to a regular schedule today so I was looking forward to a regular night.  I’m tired as hell, too, so I really expected to fall right asleep.

I think it started with a prayer.  I don’t pray regularly.  I’ve always been a little uncomfortable with it.  That’s a whole other bag, but the short of it- God and me have some issues.  I’m sure I’ll write about those sometime, but I’m pretty stubborn about confronting that so I won’t write much tonight.  BUT, early in the week as I was feeling exhausted and anxious about being home alone, I said a little prayer, asking that I be/feel safe while I’m home alone.   And as I was closing my eyes tonight, glad the week was over, I thought, “oh, bettter say thanks.”  So I did that real quick.  I felt awkward as usual.  This is partly because I was raised to say prayers a certain way, with a certain format, something like “… in the name of Jesus Christ, Amen.”

Years ago, when I decided I didn’t accept the religion I had grown up with, I realized I had to start from scratch to discover what I DID believe.  I haven’t really decided if Christ is part of that or not.  So saying a prayer in his name feels weird, because it’s not authentic.  Now I suppose it should be easy to find another way to pray.  And actually, I occasionally do.  But most of the time, I revert to the pattern I know.  Truth is, I don’t really have a lot of faith in prayer.  It’s kind of like crossing my fingers.  I do it just in case it helps because I WANT to believe it works.  But I really don’t.

So, back to me lying in bed tonight… I start thinking about all that, feeling guilty about not having more faith, about not being more grateful, about not saying a better prayer… and now I’m wide awake thinking that the world is not how it should be.  My therapist wants me to believe that odds are, I am not going to be hurt again.  That most of the people in the world are good people.  My parents want me to believe that God is watching, and listening, and somehow INVOLVED in our lives and the world.  20 years ago, I accepted all this as fact.  The world was basically good.  Bad things might still happen to good people, but at the end of the day, God is there.  We’re not alone.  AND THIS WILL SOMEHOW MAKE EVERYTHING OK.

Bullshit.  ok… now the anger is coming out, and I knew it would.  blechhh.  I told ya, me and God got some stuff to work out.  I don’t do well with expressing anger.  I don’t even do well with realizing I feel this way.  But I AM pissed.  I feel like the world is a SHITTY place.  People can’t be trusted.  God-that-I-thought-existed IS NOT REAL.  (Note: I am not saying God is not real.  I really don’t know.  I just know it’s not the God I thought was real.)  It’s like finding out that beautiful sky is made of paper and someone just punched a hole through it with their fist.  World destroyed.  It’s like finding out the glasses you’ve been wearing all your life had rose-colored lenses… and without them, the world is completely different.  And I just can’t reconcile…

I wish I could.  …  *deep breath*  Wow, I just read what i had typed so far.  I guess I knew damn good and well where that gaping hole came from.  I just didn’t want to admit it.  Like I said… STUBBORN.  I have to admit, the pain in my chest is a little smaller now.  So, um… yay?

Ummm… I can usually only handle personal revelation in small doses.  And I kinda use fandom as a coping strategy sometimes?  So… I’ll just finish this post with a favorite fanvid of mine that kinda captures my current feels.  If you’re into that, enjoy?  If not… that’s ok.  Thanks for hearing me out tonight!  This is a Supernatural fanvid, “No Bravery” by Ash.

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