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reconciling the hormones #45

#TodaysFeels

#NoFurtherExplanationNecessary

#meme is of a close up photograph of a cat hissing.

The caption reads:

Menopause. It’s a thin line between love and homocide.

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reconciling the hormones #43

Alright, all jokes aside …

This is like one of those rollercoasters (which I have avoided for most of my life!) that just won’t quit!

It’s like 1,000 shades of emotion all in the space of an hour … with 5  minutes rest .. and then right back to the beginning again!!

Fuuuuck!

reconciling the hormones #21

todays recipe:

random fits of crying followed by a large slathering of rage followed even closer by a few pinches of punctuated home truths …

and you got yo’self some serious waves of menopause …

i’mma riding this bitch …

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366 reasons to smile ~ +229.

+229. I like to believe that it is!

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why is it?

Why is there an overwhelming ‘need’ to diagnose and ‘treat’ women?

To be quiet.

To be seemly.

To be tempered.

To be polite.

To be nurturing.

To be loving.

Why the fuck can’t they just be?

Be fucking angry.

Be fucking violent.

Be fucking loud.

Be fucking rude.

Be fucking hostile.

Be fucking emotional.

Why are the things that are ok for men are seen as ‘crazy’ for women?

Like speaking their truth.

Like saying No.

Like disagreeing.

Like crying.

Like screaming.

Like beating the shit out of some asshole.

We react. We are. We want. We hate. We rage.

That doesn’t need a fucking diagnosis.

That doesn’t need fucking treatment.

That means you should get the hell out-of-the-way.

the week ..

Interesting ‘re-find’ … it would seem that ‘re-connecting’ aint all that its cracked up to be!
Father of Me is a douche-pool.
Yes, I’m still working on it 😉

meptsdandallthefuckedupshitinbetween

Lame title I know, but any who…

So, I wasn’t ready for anyone to die.

That’s kind of another lame thing … like when are we really ever ready? I mean, really?

I have planned for all sorts of things in my lifetime. And most of them have been fatalities; or doom and gloom bad shit experiences, that are more than likely going to happen .. and death has been one of those. Mine and those around me.

My brilliant plan has always consisted of the obvious .. familiarised looking grief  with a minimal amount of pain or emotion involved .. followed by a brain rest period to readjust and recalibrate.

It’s always worked.

Until it didn’t.

Why didn’t it Yoda, I asked?

Because I no longer have the ability to disassociate like I used too.

I know this. But it’s not until something happens from the doom and gloom bad…

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the week ..

Lame title I know, but any who…

So, I wasn’t ready for anyone to die.

That’s kind of another lame thing … like when are we really ever ready? I mean, really?

I have planned for all sorts of things in my lifetime. And most of them have been fatalities; or doom and gloom bad shit experiences, that are more than likely going to happen .. and death has been one of those. Mine and those around me.

My brilliant plan has always consisted of the obvious .. familiarised looking grief  with a minimal amount of pain or emotion involved .. followed by a brain rest period to readjust and recalibrate.

It’s always worked.

Until it didn’t.

Why didn’t it Yoda, I asked?

Because I no longer have the ability to disassociate like I used too.

I know this. But it’s not until something happens from the doom and gloom bad shit experience box, that I realise how ‘human’ I am becoming … or have become.

Now the average joe blow would say … ‘Well hallelujah … isn’t that just awesome!’ … but that’s because the average joe blow has lived an average joe blow life with average joe blow hopes and dreams and aspirations and shit. No offence to the average joe blow … but their ‘normal’ is ‘normal’. Mine has always gangster leaned to the side, tirelessly balance on pts fucking d.

My norm is ratshit mode … followed by a huge dolloping of ‘get fucked’ followed by three large lumps of ‘harden the fuck up’.

With the inability to disassociate however, one is left with all kinds of human-ness that suck ass.

Emotion being the obvious one.

Don’t get me wrong, I am grateful for all that I am ‘becoming’ … but it’s process; it’s results .. .kind of suck ass.

To feel … means to … “feel” …

Sadness, happiness, excitement, resentment, regret .. were all adjectives to describe something I logically knew. I knew what they looked like, but the light was off and their wasn’t anyone home! That my friends .. . is actually sheer bliss. The ability to feel absolutely nothing … nuddah! Not a sausage!

It also means one does not feel love, longing, comfortable, contentment, ease …

So do I trade nuddah for the good which comes with the bad? Apparently I thought it would be a good idea.

And then someone died.

And with that death came a flood of emotions.

The fear of regret, rejection … abandonment, loss. A huge chunk of crap from throughout my childhood … into adulthood, that I thought I had dealt with pretty well.

“If I aint had it … then there’s nothing to lose”

That’s how I’ve viewed, deep down inside; my relationship with my father, sisters, and my other family. I had resentment festering in there. With a huge dose of anger.

And when she died … it all came flooding back.

Or just made a delayed arrival; I’m not sure which.

And also with it, came the love that I had violently stuffed in the back of my soul. I told it, it had no logical place in my world. That I couldn’t make anyone want me, or love me, or notice me … so my love for them, was not needed.

What I didn’t realise, was that I didn’t really require anyone to love me in return, to love them first. That’s a bonus really. But something we think we’re all entitled too.

So for fear of not getting it back, you .. well I, just don’t give it. Not really.

But with my sister dying … come all that pain, and all that love … all flooding out at the same time. And it hurt like fuckery.

That pain is lessening a little more everyday … but it aint going anywhere fast!

And my family, that I have so freely misunderstood … or felt like they misunderstood me … I really do love them. They are my blood.

It hurts that I don’t know them. I thought I had made an effort … but really … I’ve just continued being my pts(d) self in the hopes that they’ll pour out a whole tonne of good vibes my way. That folks … is called LaLa land … and I’m kind of horrified I have lived on the rims of it for so long.

So in this fucked up, mind fucking week … I’ve begun to wonder if this ‘gift’ of feeling emotion, actually comes with a rather hefty ‘to do’ list.

That in the feeling, there should also be some kind of action of some sort. A reaching out.

Not something that I’m entirely good at.

But I gotta start somewhere.

I gave my girl a cuddle the other day .. patted her head. I heard her sigh deeply and knew it was that sound you make when your content and feel loved. I haven’t really ever done that for my girls. I haven’t known how.

But now I do.

I don’t think being some kind of emotional glitter bunny is ever going to be in my repertoire .. but I have learned that displaying emotion, isn’t a weakness. It’s actually fucking hard-core!

So as the second week rolls on … I’m still achy .. and slightly disoriented … but I know I’m OK.

I’ll be OK.

I’ve got new relationships to connect with.

xoxo

all in a ptsd day

taken

over powered

violate

moved

respond

frozen

chill

fear

ancient

short

sharp

hard

blunt

cut

don’t

cannot

feel

hurt

ache

abnormal

kill

run

scream

sunshine

wake

shatter

red

hate

scorn

smile

fake

push

pick

heavy

lurch

find

set

cloud

heat

power

wield

fight

fight

fight

ptsd