i used to think creating the titles of my entries were the hardest part of writing and now I’m thinking it’s more like the actual intro.
it is hard, you know, to write something and get dialog going within your head and then putting it out on paper (which actually is just bits and bytes since I’m doing this via keyboard and a text editor, and what not).
i honestly don’t know what’s wrong with me and i don’t have sarcastic repartee in my head that gets me going.
i don’t know what’s wrong.
i wish i had the magic eight-ball to shake and say ‘what the hell is wrong with me?!?!’ and get an answer, but life doesn’t’ work out that way and i can’t say that i blame it.
i used to get so wrapped in fantasy from reading books/movies that i used to half think my life was a sitcom where everything got neatly wrapped up in 30 minutes or at the end of the last chapter and that what i was experiencing was merely the epilogue.
and in the interim, I’m on 900mg of lithium, 100mg of Serzone, 200mg of wellabutrin plus i have some anti-psychotic drugs that I’m supposed to use whenever i get angry. Woah, i realised part of today’s issue is that i went down on my Serzone! woo!). But the drugs isn’t the issue, it’s ‘deep seated issues’ i have and why I’m so fucking angry. But here is another thing, I’ve had these ‘deep seated issues’ for forever and a day, and i always felt okay with myself — even if it was ‘deep rooted’, but it was my deep-rooted-ness and i could deal with that, because i still had a personality and it was mine.
Tag: Existential Crisis
today and everyday
this won’t be posted on my site, and in fact, after making it plaid (and earning blog babe of the week), it’s been interesting to see that more my life becomes more complicated, the more i choose NOT to write it.
oh, it’s the twine history of mine, it is. you’ll notice (if you wish) over the last 3 years of steady journal writing, I’ve skipped over large periods when really GOOD stuff was going on — you know, the drama, the intrigue, the etc.
stuff that makes life.
what I’ve been thinking about actually, is that in the last few weeks or so, my heart has been aching. not medically but emotionally. i feel pain. pain is good, is it not? it, at least, renders us alive and verifies that we can feel. i know why i feel pain, and there are many reasons why I’ve been feeling this way but lately, it’s nothing i can talk about seeing as when i have discussed it, shit got fucked up in a major way.
looking at my life from the other side of the fence, it looks pretty damn good. I’ve got a great job (and I’ve been there two years — stable in these Internet times), i live in a great apartment, drive a brand new car, make decent money, and I’ve stated this before.
usually when writing online, i was never afraid to make it known who i was — i was me. lisa rabey. I’ve fucked up a lot, loved a lot, did a lot and was never afraid (so i thought) to show it. i wanted the attention, I’ll admit that — I’m human. Paul’s been saying this a lot. he’s been saying how much i want to be adored and appreciated and loved. I’m an exhibitionist in a very true sense of the world. i climb high, and damnit, i want you to watch me climb and if i fall, i want you to feel my pain and make me feel paid. i want to be able to have that kind of power over myself and over others. i want to control and be controlled.
I miss a lot of things. I miss Danny. I was walking around target with my neighbor Chris tonight and they have all the Halloween decorations up. He loves Halloween like Paul loves Christmas. what the fuck is it about the men that i love that love these holidays? Paul has started, since October 1st, playing Christmas music and watching Christmas movies. he says it gets him in the mood, and i say, that it drives me batty. Don’t get me wrong, i love Bing just like anyone else, but Paul takes it to a new level. I bought a T-shirt at Target that says “evil” on it. Because frankly, that’s how i feel.
i have this uncanny ability to wall myself up and for a long time i wasn’t even allowing myself to feel everyday things. i worked like a robot. this is what you get get get get get. i felt myself like a princess enclosed in a castle with the fire breathing dragon waiting outside. YOU MUST PROVE YOUR WORTHY before i will let you in.
before, I’ve said this. before everything.
the world is this mix and i used to think i was the blender. i could shake up a martini like no ones business. but it was my own special mixture. now i feel like I’ve left out a few of my own ingredients and i have to find a way to piecemeal it back together again.
hubris. i like this word.
long ago, and far away in a bedroom on Paris ave in the city of grand rapids, i still have the vivid imagery of writing in longhand with a shelf over my desk and desk light illuminating the room. flash forward a few years and I’m sitting at a desk, with the same type of wall-fabric, with a shelf over me and the desk light being the only illuminating object in the apartment. but now instead of sitting there writing with a 50 cent pen on 2 dollar notepad, I’m writing in a cracked email program on a 2000 laptop (that i have bought for 600).
i was to have grown, but i seem in many ways not to.
it was there where i wrote and it was there where i wished. it was before i met Danny. before i had gotten myself a computer. before a lot of things.
perhaps i am afraid.
i have become distracted by things that have happened while i was writing. i have often found that chain smoking creates yellow stains on the walls and water not only is a diuretic, it also cleans your face.
Today was Paul and I’s two year anniversary.
Could you tell?
lisa
single solidarity
i just removed a few paragraphs because what it was saying was not what i had wanted to say. i hate it when is start writing and it sounds like it’s convoluted between my fingers and the keyboard. i know that is the reason why i had purchased the practice books to start making my writing more stronger (is that even a proper sentence?) and i hate it when i start stumbling over things. It irritates me.
my mood changed almost 180 degrees sitting here listening to ‘stellar’ by incubus and ‘it’s been awhile’ by staind. in a sense, I’m getting home sick for grand rapids. and maybe it’s the memories. i have barely spoken two words to Danny in weeks now that he’s moved in with Karen and they are sharing a phone line. he hasn’t finished some of his projects in the house and the other night he IM’d me when i was at work and I couldn’t even really properly respond because there were other people in my cube.
i know it’s the weather. i definitely know it’s the weather. this up coming weekend tool is coming to the MCI center and it looks like an 80% chance that I’m going AND the tickets will be free AND i will be sitting my chubby little butt in boxed seats (hence why i haven’t talked to Danny because the last time i saw tool was with him in ’96 and he’s a much larger tool fan than i and i guess other than Paul, anyone I’d want to go with me is him — even though Paul isn’t going). tool’s song ‘schism’ is playing right now on spinner and I’m really excited as I’m also seeing tori next Sunday night (yeah when i do concerts, i really do them). my friend heather needs a concert buddy and i volunteered to make myself that buddy. we get along pretty well, so why not? it’s either that or sit glued in front of my computer screen all night and personally, i would rather sit there and drool over both maynard and tori — but that is just me.
i got an intense feeling of melancholy this afternoon being with rob, as we were wandering around his new area of ballston/arlington and had shuffled off to Ikea together to buy crap. I’ve been altering lately between being really content and not wanting to rock the boat and wanting to stand up and just shake the living fuck out of it.
right now my life is pretty content. I’ve got a roof over my head, a pot to piss in and a window to throw it out if i choose. I’ve got a job, money in my pocket and materialistically everything I’ve wanted (to an extent, but hey i don’t think I’ll be wearing the hope diamond anytime soon) but I’m not really happy. I’m not unhappy, I’m in this middle of the lane change and i have no idea what’s driving me crazy. things could be worse but then again, a lot of my stresses that would drive other people insane (like the whole situation with my mom) just kind of rolls of my back. There are definitely things i want to do but I’m afraid to move. I don’t feel like I’m suffocating just yet, just that I’m happily treading in water.
You do need to learn how to doggy paddle before you learn how to swim.
x0x0x
Lisa
pauly is 21
today, 5/9/2001, my little luv muffin finally turned 21 🙂
and we are taking him out tonight to get hammered 😀
more details forthcoming —
ps: go check out www.novageeks.org — i just redesigned it — and am thinking about adding a message board to modgirl as well.
Comments?
DISCUSS!
Lisa
—-
it began when S. suggested we get our bodies moving (primarily since she found herself wearing size 20 jeans on her small frame) and I was personally disgusted with learning i was carrying 283 pounds on my 6′ tall frame.
The picture to your left was taken approximately four days before we started.
A month later, I’ve dropped 10 of the 100 pounds i want to lose and am feeling much better about myself.
What cracks me up about being on WW is that I don’t see it as a diet — I really do see it as a “life changing way of eating” (snort) — and for me this is not about wanting to be a size 6 — it has never been about me wanting to be a size 6 — it’s always been about feeling good and looking good for the rest of my life. I know from my personal experience growing up that being ‘overweight’ (or chubby as we call it in the rabey-sullivan household) has always been a disadvantage for many reasons but one of the things that stand out in my mind as a child is the torment I received being the biggest (and tallest) kid in my class as well as the pain my brother went through when he was younger and fatter (he’s a lean 250lbs on his 7′ frame). My brother passed along his then anxiety to my mother by badgering her about being overweight. The cycle would start over and over and over
Plus I’m hell bent on wearing a red thong bikini before my tata’s head far too south.
The WW plan is simple: each food is given x number of points. You are allowed to eat x number of points per day. You go to meetings once a week and get weighed in, pay your 14 bucks, listen to the “team lead” to motivate you and you start again. I like this “life changing” way of eating. It’s easy to keep track of and i can eat anything ANYTHING i want to. My third week (second week on the diet), I lost four pounds but I had eaten taco bell, pizza and cake as well as other food that week. I am not deprived of anything — which is a good thing. Other diets I’ve been on sucked major ass as I had to remove carbs, remove fat, count this and weigh that. This diet is literally fool proof. Hell i lost 10 pounds, that has got to say something,
But I’m excited. This feels right to me and I’m faithfully chronicling
my food journal everyday (wish i could say
the same about TLC sometimes 😉 if you know what i mean winkwinkwink).
What I’m tired of is the naysayers who say shit like:
“Oh 10 pounds? That’s mostly water weight.” Water weight? Jesus. Give me a break — I’m female, I get my period every month, i know what water weight is — and water weight does slide off your body at the average of 2-3lbs a week. This is FAT (not to be confused with phat) that is sliding off.
“Oh, you don’t need to lose weight/get in shape/diets are a bunch of scams”: One of my coworkers made a comment similar to this some time ago and it really burned my britches. They implied that since I had a man, there was no reason for me to feel good about myself. I wanted to bitch slap them into oblivion. Other comments over the years have produced the same results, but herein lies my own mental psychology — people are cruel. Yes, this is a common thread we’ve all experienced in our lives, but if you are fat/handicapped/look different, people are even more so cruel. Why are they cruel? To make themselves feel better about themselves — fuck, I do it myself when I’m being catty about other women I see (“ohmygod, she is wearing white shoes with a black dress!”) and about other things myself. I’m not innocent in this little game we play with each other myself here, I’ll take my lumps with the rest of you. Obesity (yes, since I am “technically” 100lbs over weight, I am “obese”) runs in my family, hereditary diseases like diabetes also runs rampart in my family as well as various diseases pertaining to the ovaries. One of the causes is being overweight. So fuck me for wanting not to die at an early age.
“Oh, you look fine just the way you are”: See above.
And the list goes on and on and on, but you get the point I’m making here.
Then you have the people who are chronic dieters — they talk about their experiences all the time at the meetings, about how they lost xx number of pounds and then gained it back after lifechangingevent/baby/xyz. Or the frantic dieters who drink nothing but water two days before the weigh in and piss for 48 hours to get rid of the weight. Or the snack-freaks who eat nothing for 24 hours and pig out on krispy kremes after the meeting. These are all the stories shared and some of them lack such common sense and others are just plain funny.
S. and I are feeling a bit out of sorts because we don’t feel like we belong to the group we meet with every week. Most of them are over 40 and most of them want to lose that extra 15lbs that has been hanging around since the Vietnam war. As twentysometings (ie young), we don’t get the obsession some of these women put into dieting as well as some of the more “motivational” uses some of the use — like the really obese woman who weighs herself twice a day and freaks out if she gains a few ounces — that’s just unrealistic (and funnily scary).
I just want to feel good and feel better about myself and I’m taking it one day at a time, I just wish some of these women would understand that doing this for xx amount of days is not going to get them down to a size 4/6 for their honeymoon/midlife crisis/etc. To me that is just disturbing.
x0x0x
Lisa
reality bites
does anyone remember the movie reality bites? see i remember when it was first released, and my friend sherry and i had declared this anthem that this movie was about us — it was us. i was a mix of vickie miner and lani pierce while sherry was more of a lani pierce but with blonde hair, more trendy and more into doing for herself than lani was.
but it was never about who we personified, it was always the attitude.
Paul and i went to a party last night, which was okay, but realized with our lifestyles that we really don’t fit in with the group we had gone to see. it was supposed to be to meet people and branch your networking activities, but we both sat on the couch nursing beers feeling out of the scene. it was depressing to realize how many of the people knew each other going back to high school and college and had the same common interests and could relate to each other on my different levels — while as Paul and i sat there like lumps on the log. we left hurriedly to catch “The Mummy Returns” but even seeing imhotep and brendan fraser didn’t get my blood boiling — which it should have.
the problem with the world today, or i should say one of the problems with the world today is that the generation I’m in (which IS generation x, thank you. not this pre-teen bullshit) is now the Internet generation (or generation d as freaking wcom calls it) and now we are all broke and poor and have no business acumen.
I’m struggling sometimes to find that place back when i had something to say — not just i saying something but that energy and that ranting of the time when we were young. but i no longer belive that being young was the cause of our angst or our vitality – it was just this whole new different world that was waiting for us when we left college and went out to the workforce.
and you’re right, who am i kidding that no one has ever felt or done this way before — because with each passing generation there is a new thinker, a new doer a new someone who has discovered or done something that will be rediscovered once more.
that prep school bitch
i had decided this weekend to start going through all of my stuff to sort and pack before we began the actual packing. like a lot of people, I’m a pack rat, but what i keep tends to be more paper than actual junk.
sorting out through some of stuff that was crammed into a four shelf bookcase, i came across pictures, memorabilia and other paraphernalia of days gone by. Pictures of high school friends, tickets to concerts long since seen and other stuff that I had kept for a reason that escapes me even now.
later on Saturday evening, a friend from back when I used to hang out on the mailing list fte (back in the mid-90s when my obsession for sarah mclachlan was going strong), IM’d me out of the blue. I had by chance logged into my aol account (hey, it’s free, fuck off 🙂 and he had IM’d me wondering if that was still me.
it was indeed me and we got to talking and i asked about how people were doing and what not. We had a loosely knit group of friends who had formed a sub-list off the main list as most of the people we talked with hung out in the bay area and it was easier to plan to see shows like lilith without all the chatter of the static of the main group clogging it up.
over time, i saw that while sarah mclachlan still rangs up there as one of my all fav singers, it was time to move on with myself. i unsubbed myself from fte in the spring of 99 before lilith had started and removed myself from sf-fumblers as the traffic was so slow and sometimes there would be weeks without email. I knew that if anyone really wanted to talk to me, they could always email/IM me if they choose and that was that.
talking to greg brought up a lot of painful insecurities that i had long forgotten in my daily life. you see, there were a few females on the mailing list that i alternated between hating and liking within a moments notice. the two particular females had seemingly grown up with everything being golden to them. One had gone to Vassar and the other had gone to private college in CT. They were the kind of girls who in their early 20s had already traveled fairly extensively outside of the US, knew which types of wines to order with their dinner, could afford or had knowledge of the better things in life. both had wanted to marry someone early and have babies and live the full life of a soccer mom.
yes, those kind of girls.
the kind of women my friend Jennifer at work and i mock when we head out to dulles town center for lunch, the kind bored and restless with their expensive degrees shuffling along with their 2.5 kids, the kate spade diaper bags and their stupid SUVs parked in the parking lot, wasting away the day while their husband is off having a fling with his secretary.
can you sense the bitterness here?
one of the girls was honestly sweet — but we never really became close as friends as other than a few musicians we had nothing in common. the other girl, however, has long since been a manipulator in the big scheme of things and it was widely discussed about how she manipulated people for her own things.
i can’t really fault those two for the things they have done/said/will do, but it was amazing to me the resentment that came out talking to greg when i asked how everyone was doing. it always seems that the privileged, or those i think as being privileged, are having a high time in life while i still feel like the poor student working her way through college.
shining sky
i want to know about my obsession with England.
I want someone to tell me why English accents make me swoon, their music is always so much more appealing and except for them being anal retentive about sex, why their lifestyles seem so much better than living in America.
i don’t remember my obsession begriming but all i knew is that most of the music i started digging in the late 80’s came from the UK: Charlatans UK, Morrissey, The Smiths, The Cure, New Order, Stone Roses, Mission UK, The Pogues, SoHo, The Verve, Simple Minds, Neds Atomic Dustbin, Jesus and Mary Chain, Republica, Echo and the Bunnymen, The Church, Sisters of Mercy, Ruby, et al.
Everything I can find on britpop/dreampop which was fucking alternative before alternative was referring to sexual choice. When wearing black didn’t mean you were Goth but just, deep and pretentious. Where having black hair wasn’t a statement against the man but when it actually looked good on someone.
the closer i get to turning 30, the more reflective I’ve started becoming on my music and life going on. the other night, one of the girls i know off of IRC was having a drunken party at her apartment and was using her cam as the expression of said “art work”. i got angry at all the idiots on IRC who were drooling over her own stupidity. Then I got really angry at myself for realizing it wasn’t too long ago that i had flashed everyone via my webcam. like two years ago. okay it was last year.
paul and i got into an argument about aging and how it affects the both of us. and I’ve got to say, i need to stop thinking about the past. it hurts more than it helps. i keep reflecting back to things that were never were into things i want to be. and i need to stop obsessing over death. i keep thinking every time i speak to my mother that she only has 20-25 years left to live.
to stop being depressed, go check out skydivers world domination.
i (heart) mandy.
x0x0x0x
summer sky
memory lane
October was a freaky month.
>my mother was on suicide watch, i didn’t see the shrink, i got promoted, my brother racked up a few bills, paul started a new job at AOL, Wednesday got bigger, an uncle died, I went to a spa, kethcame to visit.
That is stuff I can remember.
i should have been recording this, i should have been writing this done, but i wasn’t and i didn’t. but it’s a free country and i was getting sick of people emailing me and calling me asking me if i were alive or not, and i am; so i finally sat down and finished this damn thing.
one note on the design, if it looks even vaguely familiar, it was one of the first “professional” designs i had done by a friend of mine nearly two years ago. i realized it looked much better than anything i had done recently and so i modified it and threw it up. tada. aren’t you glad you waited? i also gave up on blogger. it was pissing me off.
rituals
every Friday night, paul, moe and I head to Logan’s Steakhouse. It has become such a ritual, that we even have our regular waitress, whom knows all of our orders and doesn’t bother bringing us menus anymore. We adore her so much, for her birthday, we tipped her 150 bucks. This is how loyal we are to this joint.
Moe ditched us last night and went out to see Circque de Sole with another friend so we got a few other people to come hang out with us. We should have known it was bad when our waitress wasn’t working, the soccer moms had taken over and the wait was nearly 1.5 hours to grab a table. Since we were all planning on seeing Bedazzled after dinner, we decided to take a stroll over to Barnes and Noble to look around.
I knew Moe should have come with us.
As soon as we walked in, I did a double take to to my right and saw someone who looked suspiciously like my ex, Alan. If you would have told me that nearly 10 years after we had started dating I would be having panic attacks about seeing him still and convincing myself he was still the one, in every day reality i would be laughing in your face. When the truth hits the fan, I was hiding behind the audio books watching this guy like some stalker, peering over the racks looking to see if it was him or not.
What was it that caught me off guard? The way he pulled his wallet out of his back pocket.
I’m not kidding.
I wish it were something that would have been more pronounced, like actually looking like him or something else other than flipping this wallet out of his back pocket, but it wasn’t.
That disturbs me.
What is even more disturbing is that I’ve been having slideshows in my head of previous exes in the last decade since I met Alan before this encounter last night. I had a dream last weekend that one of my best friends Josh ended up with me and cheated on me with some girl I knew back from when I was working in San Fran. I’ve been having quick flashes at the weirdest times of guys I’ve dated seriously (and not so seriously) of smells, instances, little things that are reminders of my time with them.
You would think, wouldn’t you, that after all this time I would be over Alan? Why does he keep holding a strange hold over my life.
I’ve been down this route before. i talked about it a couple of years ago when I had thought i had seen Alan at a restaurant Michael and i had gone to.
so realistically, the chances of Alan moving from mi->ca->va the same times i have are very slim to none.
i know this.
but that doesn’t stop the heart beating wildly and the thoughts going crazy in my head when i thought i saw him.
I’m going home to Michigan in December to see my mom and touch base. paul thinks I’m crazy for feeling like i do because this is the here and now — but the really scary part is, i used to think the last 10 years of my life meant something — and i wonder if all this time if i kept myself in some sort of blanket and protection about Alan and i’s breakup — if it was all just one delusion set upon by me?
wouldn’t that be a fucking bitch.
x0x0x0x
lisa
any given monday
i realized, without realization, what and who i wanted to be. that image, so perfect and clean that had been eluding me these odd twenty-eight years (technically, anything over ten should be 10 such as twenty-eight should be 28. At least for newspaper journalism — MLA handbook). i began my daily ritual, which required me to open up and start writing only to get lost in all those words. a mere mention of “the sound of music” lent me to spending several hours searching about the family via various engines (mamma, hotbot, altavista, google, oh my!) only to find little to nothing on the family. disappointed i started reading various online journals (always the voyeur, never the participant) and lost several hours again.
I’m watching Wednesday chew on the “brides” magazine i had bought nearly a month ago and wonder where all the time has gone (magazine has gone unread as like the rest of my subscriptions to rolling stone, brills content, penthouse letters and nerve among others). a pile nearly 3 feet deep reigns on one my shelves of magazines waiting to be read — the kind you want to read on a Sunday afternoon when it’s raining. one does not go out to buy an inch edition of vanity fair featuring the slightly obsessive gwynnie paltrow when one has that kind of material lying around does one? yes, one certainly does.
I’ve have a big crush on maura. she’s so keen.
life often continues on this spiral I’ve noticed. dreams and wishes and things we want only to never really achieve them. magazines often feel like that kind of etherealness. i think gwynnie paltrow is the WORSE actress known to man (I’ve walked out on Shakespeare in love), but I’m obsessed by her and her life. the glam-carefee life of the social diva. vanity fair spoiled me for the next few days as i dream about what it would be like to have grown up on the upper west side of ny, to summer in the hamptons and to have gone to a private school so elite, your blood must be so blue that it’s black to get in.
it’s in times like this that i often think about my own family and my heritage, how i guffaw about my great-grandfather the booze runner in the 1920’s, my grandfather the bricklayer and my father who was taxi cab driver (as one of his many professions). i dream and wonder why i couldn’t have that kind of life — where money and prestige was something i could have been born to and not dream about.
I REALLY WANT THESE PANTS!.
Wednesday is chewing on my toes.
6/16/2000 12:18:22 AM
the dark side
okay. paul had set up m*sql on the box so that i could update automagically off of a webbrowser and then the box crashed and things have been — well weird. i’m in love with blogger these days — the uses for it — and i have succumbed to the evil forces by using it now for THREE freaking websites. silly me. you know times are a changing. i have removed netscape from my machine completely (4.73 seems to NOT like me — and nothing seems stable) and am using IE5.5 almost exclusively now. I say almost as i still use netscape at work on my sparc.
today i had signed onto AOL (yes yes i do run aol sometimes. i had signed up nearly 2 years ago when i was working for slip.net to test connectivity problems with customers) and had forgotten that i had signed up to beta test their new software — and somehow i had gotten accepted to their list (i wonder what they base their criteria on — or the fact that my screen name is linuxgurl) and was reading about the new beta tests when i got messaged by some kid. literally a kid HALF my freaking age. there are many reasons why i don’t sign onto aol anymore (being that i get a lot of messages from newbies due to my screen-name being what it is) and i just felt so OLD.
i’ve been thinking more so about this in the last few days since i turned the big 2-8. I celebrated it with a few friends from work who shared the same birthday and one of them had turned 31. I asked him how it was like being over 30 now and he said he didn’t care. Turning 21 was the big one — after that it was smooth coasting the whole way. and with me, it’s not like that. sometimes i look at paul and wonder — we’ve been together for nearly a year — and NOW it hits me he’s 8 years younger than me. The irony is in a way, i was always the oldest amongst my friends when I was growing up — most of them were always a year or two younger than me. i kept thinking of all my friends from Michigan — josh, sherry, shelly, shane, mike, and scads of people who i don’t remember anymore. Jenni forwarded me the info for my 10 year reunion next month. i don’t know whether to laugh or cry about the details.
healthy as a horse
for months, nay years, i’ve been living under the impression that i’ve been sick with various ailments. none of them terribly serious but concerning for ones health to be sure. within two weeks i got told that the previous doctors assessments were *wrong* and that i’m healthy as a horse.
i’m confused.
and you are probably wondering, why are you confused? that is awesome news. but that still doesn’t explain what seemingly is wrong with me!
you see, about 10 years ago, the doctor confirmed that i had polycystic ovarian disease. this means (basically) i have too much male hormones in my body (which accounts for my agressivness) and causes cysts to be built up on my ovaries causing me to not get my period regularly AND that i could have problems having children. i schedule an appointment with a doctor who specializes in PCOD and i’m excited. all my damn problems seemingly are caused by one singular thing. she talks to me, checks me out. blood pressure normal. has me get blood drawn. slaps me on a new pill that is supposed to make my life easier and bearable — and then…
i start my period 2 weeks early. i’ve been so moody pauls started calling me dr jeckyl and mrs hyde. and the doctor called me to tell me that my blood tests were normal and there was nothing to indicate that i had PCOD. nothing. i’m clean. no problems. so why do i exhibit signs if my blood tests are fine? its frustrating. i’m so sick of my body reacting violently to even the smallest amount of stress. i’m sick of always being grouchy. no one, i mean no one, can be this much of a fucking hypochondriac.
geez.
so now i’m taking my tired ass to bed.
x0x0x0xx0
lisa