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[trying to] reconcile the hormones.

*note: its been a cunty day.

This morning we were greeted with the carpet cleaners.

This is why I don’t do carpet cleaners until I leave a house:

a. the chemicals completely mess with my head, nasal passages and feng shui.

b. the ensuing smell that lingers long after they’ve gone, also fucks with me feng shui.

c. the carpets are wet until they dry. no worries – i sit on the floor. i sleep on the floor. the floor is where i am happiest and where i don’t get dizzy.

And all my hormones could do for Me today is make Me cry like a fucking little bitch … over carpets ffs!


not my meme. thankyou to whoever compiled it. you described todays #feels.

regards.


kpm©


 

and there was tears and snot, and more snot and tears

I’ve been trying to remain calm about the pending doctors visit today … just calm; nothing spectacular … calm would have sufficed.

I was calm … ish … playing my music, breathing deeply … and then the sour puss which is my partner right now, decided to strike up conversation just as we reached the outskirts of town … just where I hate being … just where the lights are bright and the noises peak … just where I loathe being on the way to somewhere I hate being even more …

“[Moko 1] asked why you don’t come to see them, or come into town.”

“And what did you tell him” was my reply. I shouldn’t have even asked. I should have just ignored the whole pending conversation and continued breathing deeply … but what felt like a slight rage coupled with a deep disappointment overwhelmed my spidey senses …

“Told him you don’t like people … cos thats all it is ay” was his naive and sarcastic reply.

Thats where there tears and snot began.

Now those who have pts(d) … or any other disability, mental and/or physical; and have struggled with educating your families on said ‘disability’ whilst trying to manage your own personal hell … will know the deep sinking feeling that hit my gutt in that moment.

Nearly 14 fucking years its been … him and I … and the last 8 or so have been struggling with the ‘unknown’ ‘disability’ that plagues my being … the last 3 years of actively trying my fucking best to manage that shit. And while he has his most blessed moments … this was not one of them … and I am well fucking over it.

The doctor was late, as usual, even though I was the first appointment of the day. Waiting causes severe fucking anxiety for Me. I got through the appointment, in tears and a large splattering of snot, but was over wiping any of that shit away so I just let it rain!!

Oh ugly ugly … but that shit obviously needed to come out, and come out it did!!

So, I got drugs that I can’t take … I’ll write another post on that fuckery another day arrghh … along with a raft of other shit that is more of the same shit … get my feels.

He filled in the fucking forms and had no idea where to send them so I took them with Me and gave them to the receptionist … she’s gangstah … with strict instructions to make sure some Cunt at ACC got that shit.

I am tired. I am a red faced puffy mess, I’ve just finished sweating like a rapist … my daughter has just walked in the door with chocolate! Fuck I love her!

And after a rather late quarter of a sedative, I have found my calm.

The positive: I fucking survived. I didn’t assault the doctor.

I live to tell the tale and to survive for another day.

Fuck pts(d).


kpm ©


 

completed

The partner left yesterday afternoon and went in for the removal of the ‘unwanted mass’ this afternoon. According to ‘Libby’ of Ward 6, the partner is nauseous and in pain, but the surgery itself, was reasonably quick and straight forward; thanks for that Libby.

It’s been a head fucking day, but I remained positive and active…to remain positive and active pfft.

It’s a daunting thought thinking the person you’ve grown to love and hate at the same time, might not be alright…might not be around to argue with; or take the piss out of; to laugh with; to eat with;…I think that’s what ‘attachment’ is all about???? Not one of my stronger points…

I actually thought I’d be crawling the walls more than I was…possibly all the training from moving out of one place into another; lumps in the breasts; hair falling out, you know, just all that run of the mill shit…this time though, I just kind of tried to go with the flow…seemed to work. I might try more in future.

Oooohhh

And then the shrink came this afternoon, for our final session of the year – Yah … not.

But

I made a breakthrough…of sorts.

It was a really uncomfortable EMDR session…physically and mentally. I went dizzy and then numb; butterflies and headaches; sore throat and tired. And finally…bucket loads of tears that freakishly came out of nowhere…well, not out of nowhere; the bastards came from my eyes…you know what I mean…anyway…

My breakthrough came as we were doing the, ‘I am safe now’ routine…the crux of the whole fucking thing…and the panic attacks and anxiety and PTSD bullshit. The shrink asked me on the scale of 1-7; 7 being very true, how much do I believe that ‘I am safe now’ statement. I went from 6, to 6 1/2, then 6 3/4…just couldn’t quite hit the 7.

Then the tears came…

When I realised that ‘I am big now’…

I might not ever completely believe that I am 100% safe anywhere, with anyone…but ‘I am big now’, and I can deal with it!

It’s been a long day.

And I’m tired…good…sore…and tired.


kpm ©


 

42 days notice

I think being given notice to move out of your home is stressful for anyone.

Try having PTSD and related anxiety issues.

I’m happy to report on day 1…I haven’t rained down hell on anyone, including myself.

I am breathing and I have had a few tears…ok quite a few tears…here and there. But I’m ok…sort of.

I grabbed the camera and started clicking instead of re-running the ‘why why’ theme song.

I will be A O fucking K.

To follow…house pics…and lets see how tomorrow rolls.


kpm ©