stone against skin
August 7th: can I help it if I think you're funny when you're mad?
mother mother can you hear me
—Tracy Bonham, mother mother
sure i'm sober sure i'm sane
Dream:
I slept too deeply to dream much last night, and when i did dream, it was mostly just those annoying rehearsals of things that might happen the next day.
Reality:
So after yesterday's Bukowski outburst, I'm much better.I thought I might have been comnig down with something, but I think it was just fatigue. Speaking of, i need to get my prescriptions refilled--I should probably go back on the Pill for a couple of months, much as the prospect fills me with distaste.
Why should it do that, you wonder? i'll tell you.
See, i have polycystic ovarian syndrome. In English, it means that the membrane that surrounds my ovaries has thickened, and the normal cysts that break every month in normal women and shoot the little egg out into the fallopian tubes stick around, and stick around and stick around. Which causes very odd things to happen with my hormones, since most women get a little extra shot of testosterone right before ovulation, and I am perpetually sitting right before ovulation.
The upshot of this is that 1) I have periods all of twice or three times a year, left to my own devices 2) I have lots of extra testosterone floating around in my system and 3) I'm pretty much infertile.
Now, the extra testosterone is actually pretty cool. It makes me grow hair where most women don't have hair, but over the years i've developed ways of dealing with that. It makes my sex drive wonderfully high, my muscles strong, and modulates my natural manic-depressive tendencies.
But, okay, fine, not having periods is bad. I can accept that. So I take the Pill so I can have periods.
Unfortunately, the hormones also wreak havoc on my emotions. I get suicidal, I have manic fits and depressive swings, and am, overall, one hell of a lot less stable than I am while off the drugs. I fly into murderous rages at the slightest provocation. I take things far too seriously. And these things last for months after I'm off the Pill.
So, it's a choice: have periods and these emotional excesses and sucidal depressions, or not take the drugs and deal with the consequences later on.
And they think that illegal drugs mess with your viewpoint? The legal drugs do it to me a lot worse, and for far longer.
*****
I've been thinking, the past couple of days, about my own private little Hell and the things I do to keep myself there.
I'm not a Christian, but I firmly beleive in Hell. Hell is the place you make for yourself, the place that you go when you're tormenting yourself with your own shortcomings. Everyone has their own version of it.
some of us just spend far longer than others there. I spent some time there myself, yesterday.
I started rehearsing what I would say to him if we ever had the conversation that I would like us to have. i know, truly, that we will never have this conversation, and that he is far too sure of himself and his viewpoint to ever compromise it to include himself being selfish and blind. My inner version of him is so much wiser and more understanding than the real him; my inner version of him affirms me instead of running me over when he feels the need to win. My inner version of him loves me for me, and not for the person he thinks he can mold me into.
Which is why spending time with that inner image of him hurts, i know. You could have been there for me, I say to the image. You could have given me a boost when I found my wings instead of setting me up to fail time and time again. You could have been truthful with me.
My inner image of him shrugs when i say that. "I'm only an ideal, girl. What could i have done?"
*****
But unlike so many other mornings, after spending a night in my little Hell i arise ready to face the day. A bad night doesn't have to mean a bad morning, though in this case i'm not sure that the morning qualified as "good" when i had to get out of bed a full hour before i really felt ready to.
i'm still feeling....strange, i suppose. light-headed. my arms feel like they're the wrong weight, though i an't determine if they're heavier or lighter than they should be. More worrying, I'm losing little bits of time, I think. Though, at this point, it's impossible for me to tell if it's because i'm switching or I'm just tired and distracted.
I need paper, i need some time to think, and I need coffee. Now!
*****
I just finished doing some testing on a MS website that should be going live sometime next week, and I'm also finishing up some documentation of a process, trying to figure out how I can make it better. The people at work are curently loving me, which makes me quite happy.
But the same things that are making me happy are also making it difficult for me to think about pulling up stakes and going.
the moment:
stone against skin
your assignment:
CD: Tracy Bonham, the burden of being upright
Book: Sing the Four Quarters, Tanya Huff
Outside: sunny. perfect. *happy sigh*
Doing: testing with my big Testing Hammer
Link: Tanner and Rhee
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eat something you generally eat without thinking about it (like a piece of bread) and really pay attention to it.