A haven for creative people living with mental illness. This is the place where you can tell it like it is, not yet another place where you have to pretend to be someone you've been told you should be.
Tuesday, September 28, 2021
Mes crazy expériences: WeWriWar 365: The House at The Crossing 73
Thursday, September 23, 2021
Kestril's Rhythms and Groove: Becoming
Wednesday, September 22, 2021
Guerrero Words: I See You
Friday, September 17, 2021
Abra-Ca-Duh, I Answered an Old Question
17 September 2021
Spirit of the Universe, please set aside everything I think I know about myself, about my story, about my need for validation, and especially about you, Universe, so that I may have an open mind and a new experience with myself, with my story, with my need for validation, and with you, Universe. Please help me to see the truth. Amen.
I am having trouble remaining consistent with this project. I’ve noticed that the middle of the month tends to be an absolute fucking black hole. A whole bunch of things seem to hit in the middle of the month. Perhaps the beginning of the month starts out hopeful, and at the end of the month I feel like, “well, thank fuck that shit’s over with.” It’s always the middle when I have emotional collapses because I feel overwhelmed.
I’m going to tie this entry with the question for the Open Book Blog Hop.
However, rather than share it on either the Naughty Netherworld Press blog
or Readers Roost
I am sharing the answer at the Crazy Creatives Cheerleading Camp.
Here are the questions:
What’s something you look forward to as you age? And what do you miss from your youth?
And here are the answers.
The thing I was looking forward to as I aged already happened.
I had 40 years of periods from hell. I had a relatively easy menopause starting at age 52. I never had the full-on blast furnace hot flashes that some women describe. I had what are known as ember flashes. These last longer, 20 to 30 minutes on average, but I felt warm rather than hot.
The only part of this experience that wasn’t so great was the post-menopausal bleeding that I experienced. 2018 was the year that revolved around my plumbing, and I didn’t enjoy it one single bit. A D&C revealed that I have simple hyperplasia with normal cells and a uterus full of tiny fibroids.
This condition presents with a 1.6% increased chance that I will eventually develop endometrial cancer, as opposed to a woman who has no endometrial hyperplasia. For that small an increase, I opted not to have a hysterectomy. If I had presented with complex hyperplasia or abnormal cells, the increased chance of developing endometrial cancer rises to 36%, and with both factors, the chance increases to 50%. If any of these scenarios had been the case, I would have had a hysterectomy.
I will have a hysterectomy if there is ever a compelling reason for me to have a D&C again. It felt like someone went up in my business with a cheese grater. I’m not using my uterus, so if I must suffer the indignities of invasive procedures, at this point I’d opt to have the damn thing removed and be done with it rather than enduring another cheese grater incident.
In any case, I think I’ve enjoyed what I was looking forward to with aging: the end to miserable menstruation. My periods were always painful and heavy to the point of hemorrhage. I’m glad to be done with them. As far as the rest of the aging process, maybe I can look forward to becoming even more of a curmudgeon while giving ever fewer fucks. Other than that, I’m afraid it sounds like more aches, pains, and things breaking down. Yay? Nay!
What do I miss from my youth?
That feeling of starry-eyed hope.
At this point, I’m too god damn jaded to ever feel that again without some sort of significant win. I’d have to get The Big One, and to be honest, I’m not particularly hopeful about that transpiring.
Sorry if my honesty is a bummer, but I prefer to tell it like it is.
Ornery Owl has Spoken.
Dear Divine Spirit of the Universe, please help me to keep learning and growing at every age.