Merry Fucking Christmas

Really? Today? Gee, it shouldn't have.

Thanks.

November 28

Sour grapes, I've decided. Working ovaries keep my connective tissue in shape. Protect my heart.

So, whatever.

Just in case I can't find it later

THE HEART REMEMBERS EVERYTHING IT LOVED
Everything remembers something. The rock, its fiery bed,
cooling and fissuring into cracked pieces, the rub
of watery fingers along its edge.

The cloud remembers being elephant, camel, giraffe,
remembers being a veil over the face of the sun,
gathering itself together for the fall.

The turtle remembers the sea, sliding over and under
its belly, remembers legs like wings, escaping down
the sand under the beaks of savage birds.

The tree remembers the story of each ring, the years
of drought, the floods, the way things came
walking slowly towards it long ago.

And the skin remembers its scars, and the bone aches
where it was broken. The feet remember the dance,
and the arms remember lifting up the child.

The heart remembers everything it loved and gave away,
everything it lost and found again, and everyone
it loved, the heart cannot forget.
- Joyce Sutphen

Leave you there by yourself chained to fate.

Mom, all the times you protected me from the outside world? You did more damage than the world ever did. You neglected and manipulated and let me take your husband's wrath you nasty rat.

Gnaw on it in solitude, I won't explain now.

What is the deal with making this even worse?

Started yesterday morning. Found this story today. Could be worse.

As though it weren't bad enough, though.

So lonely

Really feeling the loss, however temporary. Dealing, but not well. Head getting in a particularly bad place.

Must be brave.

Tinky wink my ass.

Again, and again. Again for now. And.

So be it.

Yesterday, who gives a fuck

Started yesterday. Knew it the day before, broke favorite mug, cried. Want a vacation.

so done

Sub-critically bothered

Not as pronounced. Interrupted sleep on a low level. Wearing away on my nerves.

I chose a great name for this blog, and image to match, dinnit I?

Flashing darks

Starting the flashes again. Mild so far. I expect the bout to be worse.

Must roll with the waves, lest I despair.

Medicinal ethanol

Drinkin' and bleedin' and bleedin' and drinkin'. So much for subtlety. Really pissy this week as well.

Alcohol does help.

In my lifetime. That's as close as I'll estimate this.

Ok, here's my prediction. There will be a convenient revelation prompting the mormon church to accept gay marriage, and will start sealing them in the temple. Just like when they repudiated plural marriage, and accepted black men into the priesthood.

This will never happen for women and their priesthood, that will never be important enough, since it's only about women.

Just the usual.

Surprize. More or less. Feeling alright so far.

Endurance.

Nothing so lonesome, so morbid or drear

At this point, beer is still unappealing. Will this be the last time I have alcohol? Not that I mind, really.

Not ready to call it, but it feels like something has changed.

I could really do without this bit, though

Dizzy and queasy all week. Feels very hormonal. Fading day by day.

The opposite of pregnant, so I count blessings.

Oh, rapture.

Starting again, with loads of distress and nausea, dizziness. A week off, and it starts the week after. Anxiety way through the roof.

Joy.

Neither here nor there.

Wound up going on five weeks of hot/cold flashes, then the virus. Have not started bleeding yet, going on seven weeks. At least my back is not terribly upset about all the coughing, as it once would have been, which is reassuring.

Interruptions of everything.

Temperance society meeting, Friday midnight.

Possibly winding down. Temperate today. Night will be the test.

So tired.

Burning bridges, then icing them over.

Worst night for cycling through flashes. At least eight, maybe twelve, leaving little time for sleep. Wake, sweat, uncover, chill, cover, nap. Repeat.

Unwell throughout the day, but that might be the pollen talking.

Time to strip paint.

Hot flashes with springs of sweat. Removed all cloth last night, and Eleanor decides it's a good time to stand on my chest. I disagreed and scooted her off.

Usually, this runs about two weeks, start the timer.

Petering out

And done. With intense misery and exhaustion. But it didn't last long.

Dribbles.

Time to step back

Starting again, of course. At least it wasn't last week. No wonder I was tetchy over the weekend.

Which I kinda knew.

On this week, thanksalot.

The usual started again. Mess and misery at work. Not to say a bad day, just low on coping ability.

And asked to cover tomorrow for a reinjured cow-orker, so I am.

It's a great fucking deal

Six boxes of obs, $3 off. In the spirit of murphy's laws, I bought them. Yes, I'm feeling defeated.

And ill and tired and seeping.

This time, it's personal

I know I shouldn't take this personally. How much more personal can it be, though? After 43 years of this, shouldn't that be a hint that it's useless?

Better skin, bones, cardiovascular system, presumably.