Could you have predicted your future 10 years ago?
Where were you 10 years ago?
I was married with 4 children, moving from my hometown in IL to an even smaller town in WI. If you would have asked me what life would look like in 10 years my answer would have been: “Pretty much the same except the kids are older.”
FAST FORWARD 10 YEARS:
A divorced minimalist, living in Colorado, renting a fully furnished cabin on the side of a mountain with a super hot boyfriend. Working my ass off, broke as hell with confusing health issues. Two of my grown boys live with in an hour of me. I have a transgender son 4 months into transition while in his 3rd year of college, and my youngest back in IL chomping at the bit to move to Colorado when he turns 18 because I can’t afford it and his dad won’t fund it.
I could not have predicted my future. The anxiety and worry didn’t do a damn thing except sap my energy and joy.
How do you cope with the peculiar dance of life? Have you found strategies that work for you? Anything to calm the anxiety?
We will face unknowns. We find ourselves in situations we didn’t plan or ask for. (except for the hot boyfriend, I asked specifically for that )
I look at Jase’s parents who spent their lives working hard, planning for their retirement now in their 70’s. His dad with early onset dementia didn’t leave his bedroom all day and insists on walking around with one shoe. They are sitting on a gold mine of savings that they aren’t using to travel the world. They are prisoners in their home to a disease they didn’t predict 10 years ago.
Where will we be in 10 years?
I like to imagine myself independently wealthy, doing work that lights me up and helps multitudes of people reach for the best versions of themselves. I like to envision joy and robust health with mine and Jases’s children and grandchildren thriving around us. I’d like to travel.
The truth is I spent the day in bed, cursing mystery body pain that I don’t have all the answers for.
I got dressed this morning with the intentions of grocery shopping only to have a panic attack when my ass hit the seat of my car. I went back inside, promptly put my jammies back on and ordered groceries online for Jase to pick up on his way home from work in the evening.
I have limited energy and constant pain. Grocery shopping requires use of my body and I don’t make any money doing it. I save my energy for tasks that generate income.
I scheduled a brain MRI that the doctor ordered. Took a 2 hour nap and read many pages in “A Course in Miracles” hoping for some emotional relief.
I’ve become a ball of anxiety wound tightly by feelings of worthlessness.
To say the future scares me is an understatement. It’s fucking terrifying. Hope feels thin.
When hard times hit no one knows if they will be triumphant. Will theirs be a story that will inspire hope or will it be an unfortunate tale of struggle and defeat.
For now I will keep putting one foot in front of the other. I’m the main attraction in my own self care circus: Eating clean, taking high quality supplements, meditating, stretching, PT exercises, putting on my fake smile while working, and crying into Jase’s armpit at night. I’m not tall enough to reach his shoulder.
I had the audacity to believe that I was moving through all of this with my mind in tact. Just a week and a half ago I woke up exclaiming, “I can’t believe I’m waking up feeling happy in my mind!” This week that statement is no longer true.
Unsettled days leave you fidgety in body and mind. Looking for a release. It’s too early to have a glass of wine. If you have a glass at 2pm that’s called escapism. Wait until 5, you won’t feel as guilty.
There’s nothing I want to do. Plenty I should do. I’m lacking in energy from having worked 6 days this week.
My head swirls with anxiety. I laugh at my awkwardness. It’s comical to watch myself as an outsider. Look at the unsettled mid lifer in her flannel pajamas. She reads a book for 5 mins……..scrubs the shower for 10……..sits on the deck and stares at a tree……opens the fridge…….closes the fridge……what is this mediocre mountain mama waiting for…..searching for?????
Being an adult sucks dick.
There’s no one around to give you ideas or tell you what to do. Life can become a shapeless blob. There’s no structure unless you give it structure. No one is going to save you.
If you’re a wise, conscious adult, you see the futility of the structure and everything feels like a fucking waste of time. Gone are the days of naivety. You’ve lived too much. Seen too much.
In your spiritual little heart of hearts you know everything matters, everything is connected and nothing is wasted.
Long story short, because we all have lives to live, boricvag worked. I have my vagina back and maybe you could have yours back too. That is, if you’re suffering. It is for all types of vaginal issues.
Leave what’s heavy behind. Send it floating in the water. Are you tired and weary from the hidden pain…..not sure how to articulate……..how to release the fearful feeling.
Needing a break from yourself. Needing a break from the relentless physical pain that has become a nameless phantom who hangs around and refuses to exit your life.
Trying to describe the pain phantom tastes like vomit.
Regurgitated information that no one understands.
Crying makes the pain in your head, neck and shoulders worse. This phantom with no name…….Laughter helps but what’s so funny? You crawl in the dirt searching for humor and it turns to dust in your hands………
You send it all floating…….
Water does not resist. Water flows effortlessly around obstacles. It laps up courage with each rock it glosses over. It smiles and glitters and goes wherever it pleases.
Water has patience. It can appear to be in a hurry but exhibits a calm grace. It is a part of natures soundtrack. It babbles, giggles and crashes…..
Tears are water. Water brings life to every living thing.
The art of communicating in relationships gets tossed around like objects in the junk drawer. In a perfect world good communication would be instinctive, but often times it’s not.
If left unchecked, communication can become non existent or it can turn into a primal scream.
I imagine most of us have experienced both. What gives? Is there a “right” way to communicate?
This is not our first rodeo. I was married for 20 years prior to meeting Jase. He was married twice in a span of 20 years. Poor bastard.
Man, I could tell you some shit from our 3 years together! My favorite might be the time I left him with our 80lb cargo bike and he had to pedal 15 miles home, uphill…….there were some strong emotions left unchecked that night….OOOO there’s the time he packed up all of his belongings and started driving back to PA (his homeland) only to have his car throw an electrical tantrum.
Communication in the early days was gravely malnourished.
Through countless disagreements, crying, yelling, and threats of leaving one another, we have found what works for us.
Once the two of us are home, we grab a glass of wine and a stool so we can share our thoughts and feelings from the day. We also share any conversations we’ve had, with family, friends, co-workers or passerby’s.
We leave no emotional stone unturned and nothing is watered down.
In the mornings we have coffee and discuss what we’re feeling about the day ahead.
The result is we feel closer to one another and there are fewer outburst or misunderstandings. Having 2 set times to talk things over brings a calmness to life.
If feels rather proactive. We clear the air and nothing has a chance to fester and get infected. We’ve also taken the time to sift through our previous arguments, healing the wounds inflicted by one another.
We now laugh at the drama we each brought to the table.
Would love to hear any wisdom you have unearthed in your communication skills. Feel free to comment!
As I settle into the rigorous self care circus that has become my life, I’m learning to be quiet with in myself.
I have to slow down or I will not repair.
I see startling differences between the two types of survival.
Survival mode #1: The task master pay the bills at any price. Drive your health into the ground. Search, search, search and search some more for ways in which to do this. Work 10 to 12 hour days cleaning homes and working retail. You must survive………but there’s never enough……not enough time…..not enough resources……..YOU ARE NOT ENOUGH
Survival mode #2: You dumb fuck, slow down.
Both sides can be self centered.
As I care for my body the way it’s intended to be cared for, I’m learning to see. I see details in the tiniest things, and it’s no longer the details of cleaning someone’s toilet to perfection with a toothbrush and toothpick in hand.
Awareness is blooming once again.
What truly matters is moving from my head space into my heart space.
Ideas of helping others who feel worse than I do are stirring in my soul. Visions of bringing laughter into places that are not funny.
We are all a little sick in some way, shape or form………..
We met on a dating app. It’s been 3 years. And though we didn’t experience the “honeymoon phase”, EVER, I can’t help but feel a teensy weensy bit bad for Jase.
I could bore you with the backlog of our histories, but who the fuck has time for that? Long story short, when we met I was active and adventurous. We both were.
No one see’s illness coming. It swoops in gradually until one day it’s kicks you in the back of the knees and takes you down.
We had a good laugh together this morning when I pointed out how different our conversations are now compared to when we first met.
Me laying in bed: “Holy hell my armpits stink, time for a new t-shirt tonight before bed, I think I’ve worn this for like 2 weeks.
Him: “Let me smell. Yep, you reek, the right pit is stronger than the left. How weird.”
30 minutes later I filled him in on the 10 inch ripe banana of a turd I had.
In all fairness, last night before bed I read in the Epstein Barr book that you should document all your bowel movements and what constitutes as healthy.
My point, he didn’t sign up for this, but he’s still here and loving me with grace and sensitivity. Stinky armpits, banana bowels and all.
Our relationship looks different on the outside based on our lack of adventure. The inside is different too. It’s richer and deeper. We are evolving along with what we can not control. Together we look for ways to make each other laugh and make light of what is happening.
It’s not uncommon for me to be minding my own business and Jase to walk by with curly lettuce bursting from the fly of his pant’s. “Hey honey, I think I’m due for some man scaping.”
I’ve caught myself gauging the importance of tasks based on how much energy they use. Everything has a meter and comes with a price.
I choose tasks blindly as I’m not sure how much energy I have until I run out. I’m in the learning stages of illness.
Here’s a great example: I was in bed most of last week because the week before I worked 6 days. Even though I was strict about resting as soon as I got home it didn’t matter. My body revolted.
Yesterday, Jase and I had the day off together. We live near Rocky Mountain National Park. I think, “What harm could there be in taking a drive to see the mountains?” Jase can drive, I can rest and enjoy the view. Harmless.
I spent the entire day nauseous, dizzy and feeling like my muscles were burning up. As much as I enjoyed being out, the physical discomfort was exhausting.
To get my mind off myself I started complimenting strangers and petting their dogs. It’s free, requires little to no energy and makes us all feel a little better.
I’m off today, and I’m here with my “to do” list. It has everything from cutting my toe nails to getting an oil change. In the forefront of my mind: is that yesterday kicked my ass and tomorrow I have someone’s house to clean (gotta make money to survive) and a doctors appointment right after. I am well aware of the strain tomorrow will bring.
Frustrated that cleaning homes is my livelihood. If I stop working completely I’m royally fucked. If I continue putting my body though rigorous activity I’m royally fucked. Getting a non physically taxing job won’t pay as much and I’ll have to work double the amount of time.
I am searching for the humor in this. I feel like there’s a critter meandering through the maze in my brain, bumping into wall after wall after wall.
I should probably quit all this thinking and go cut my toe nails.
When a kid is pissed, sad, confused etc. they have this innate ability to turn the strong emotion into a game of some sort. It’s rather fascinating.
I have a laundry list of discomfort in my body on a daily basis. It’s enough to send me to the loony bin. Instead I will see myself as a new breed of superhero.
My eyes feel as if they’ve been punched repeatedly because I’m able to read peoples minds. Holy hell, you are all sick in the head, at least I know I’m in good company.
My muscles and joints feel like they are on fire from the lava I use to reload my lava taser.
My limbs go numb with out warning when they need a break from all the kung foo fighting.
I feel like I’m a walking cinderblock from my bulging muscles and the ridiculous costume I’m forced to wear.
It feels like I have fire ants in my underwear, well, let’s not go there, that’s a private matter. (See my post on vulvodynia if you’re curious)
Don’t even get me started on the digestive upset that I use as explosives to blow shit up.
Somedays I feel like what’s the point in trying to turn the discomfort into something funny, but it is a good distraction to focus on seeing things in a different way rather than giving in to the dark side. There’s only so much crying and complaining a person can do before the depression sinks in and pulls you into it’s pit.
If you have any ideas or tried and true methods for your own life, I’d love to read them! Feel free to leave a comment 🙂 In the mean time, keep laughing!
Shitting your pants, well that only happens to a few. Or is it that most people are too embarrassed to admit it.
Well, I’m done being embarrassed and I’m also learning to put myself first. I’ve been forced to conquer some health issues and have had a week of failure. I was in bed most of the week and developed major tummy upset resulting in hours of potty time.
Every Friday I clean the home of a couple that are nothing short of wonderful. I did not want to let them down along with the 4 other families I had already let down this week. So after a 2 hour venture on the potty I took route to their home. Half way there, you guessed it………
Miss poopy pants.
I pulled to the side of the road in utter disbelief and called the couple. There’s no eloquent way to say “I shit myself on the way to your house. I have to go home. No I will not be showing my face in your home today even after I clean myself up.”
Once safe at home, I remembered that the couple had their 90 year old parents coming in from out of town and could have desperately used my help. They even contacted me back and said they’d pay the full amount if I felt up to just cleaning the kitchen. I seriously considered going, not for the money, but out of sheer guilt.
My body is in full rebellion of the work schedule I’ve put it through for so many years. It’s pissed and it’s not beating around the bush any longer. It’s literally screaming: “Let me rest, or so help me, I WILL MAKE YOU SHIT YOURSELF!”
I was awake at 3 am sick with guilt. Picturing the mayhem my inability to heal caused for this family. Try as I may to focus on my breath or repeat a mantra to interrupt my train of thought, it’s like grasping at straws.
My question is this? Why do we put ourselves last until we break? Then even at the breaking point we keep striving to do a little bit more. Why the guilt?
There are so many emotions that come with illness. I keep facing each one, bringing curiosity to the table to see what it is I need to learn.
You can bet your clean underwear I’ve learned to never leave the house with a bout of diarrhea no matter who I disappoint.
I’m curious about your negativity. What do you do with it? Where do you put it? Do you pretend it’s not there? Do you save it to share with those closest to you? Do you blog about it? Do you act like you never have a negative thought or emotion? Do you ignore it and let it seep out in weird ways?
When looking up information on negativity I was bombarded by positive quotes against negativity. Isn’t that being negative about negativity?
Could the negativity in our lives be there to teach us something?
Maybe if we were encouraged to get curious about our negativity instead of being told we’re like the plague we would have more joy.
If I never leaned into my own negativity I’d still be in an unhappy marriage.
I’m regularly around someone who’s energy feels so superficial it hurts. I feel bad for her. She’s hell bent on being a shining light of positivity and it feels fake and forced. Rather than feeling drawn to her I feel repelled and keep our interactions brief.
Pretending to be positive all the time is the equivalent of spiritual bypass. Could ignoring our negativity also be a cause of imposter syndrome?
I’m not saying that we should spend our days in a cesspool of garbage thinking and speaking. We’ve all been there and been around people who are “STUCK” in it like a record with a scratch looping for years at a time. I admit I’ve done my fair share of pissing and moaning. I think there is a fine balance to be had. I embrace the fact that life is a beautiful shitty mess. Beauty and shit are polar opposites but we all have both.
A little authenticity goes a long way……
Chime in. What are your thoughts? How do you conduct yourself and your own negativity?
When people tell you that you look fine you feel like punching them in the throat. Lucky for them you don’t have the energy to carry it out.
When someone says they are “tired” too you want to strap cinder blocks to their limbs, light all of their muscles and joints on fire, punch them in both eyes, release fire ants into their underwear, scramble their brain and tell them to go live their lives as usual.
“Fake it till you make it”…….I’m sorry, that does not help. Faking that I feel great so I can make it to the grave sooner??????
“Raise your vibration” and “Think positive”……How about you shut the fuck up? I mean that in the nicest way possible.
I’m truly not a deputy downer. What I am is a realist who’s scared about the future. Admitting that I feel like garbage does not mean I’m thinking negative, low vibration thoughts all day. I certainly don’t need trash heap canned phrases. I can tell the difference between a well meaning statement from someone who is being compassionate and one that’s just being passive aggressive because of stewing in their own crap.
I have definitely learned to think before I blurt something out. How bout you? Do you have any funny thoughts on well meaning statements that feel anything but well meaning?
It’s a fucking miracle. I found a creamer I like better than half n half.
For years I’ve known my body is not a fan of dairy products. I’ve tried every natural creamer out there. They all prove to be too sweet and leave a shit aftertaste. I’d always return to my beloved half n half.
Recently I’m being kicked in the ass by Reactivated Epstein Barr and a major recommendation is to clear your life of all animal products for a few weeks. I’ve been drinking some crappy almond milk creamer that tastes artificial no matter how many stamps of “nothing artificial” they’ve put on the container.
Well, halle~fucking~lujia I have found a replacement that is way sexier than half n half will ever taste. Guys, there’s turmeric in it. It tastes like the ancient “Golden Milk” from India. There’s no disgusting aftertaste and while it does have sugar the Indian spices balance it out perfectly.
I was afraid of empty nest syndrome until I met Jase. 3 years of dating this man has transported me back to the toddlerhood of my sons.
This morning I had to wipe down the cover of the book I’m reading. It was covered in Jase’s late night snacks. Crusty almond butter and sticky jelly. My daily routine involves scraping substances off walls, sinks, floors and windows.
He regularly misplaces things:
“Jase, what are you doing?”
“Looking for my headlamp.”
“Well, the last time I saw you with it we were camping 3 weeks ago. Maybe you left it inside the tent.”
“I swear I took it out. I’m pretty sure I’ve used it since the trip”
He continues to look for the next few days, a trail of destruction in his wake. Eventually he sets up the tent in the living room:
Wanting to feel better is the biggest waiting game I’ve ever played. My health has been a gradually declining shit storm for the past 4 years and it’s coming to a head.
I’m gathering all the info I can via blood tests, medical professionals, books and my own hunches. I’m trying to steer clear of “Google” as I find it to be a watered down “copy and paste” situation when it comes to finding answers.
I have days where barely a smile crosses my lips and that pisses me off. I dig for anything to make me laugh. Anything to get my mind off how shitty I feel, how I’m going to pay my bills and how my credit card debt is increasing rather than decreasing. How I’m 44 and have been working my ass off after getting divorced trying to build a reasonable life for myself only to hit a wall.
One negative thought can create a spiral down the rabbit hole. In just a few minutes I’ve catastrophized my life into homelessness and dying alone in a dumpster.
Yesterday the thing to make me laugh was my boyfriend’s face after giving me a hug. I hadn’t showered in four days and my head smelled like sour milk. I’m laughing now just remembering his face………He was amazed that I actually had an odor, as he tells me I never smell. I told him my sour sick mood is seeping though my pores.
I am being stripped bare. I have nothing left for my Ego to attach itself too. There’s nothing I can offer except being vulnerable. I’m a 44 year old divorced mother of 4 boys who scrubs peoples toilets for a living, I have debt, my savings is dry and I don’t have a college degree. My career was raising children. According to the worlds standards I am not a success and I’m ok with that. This is my reality. My story is not that unique.
What I can do is be kind to myself and to others no matter how fucking awful I feel. I’m not the only person who is struggling. My struggles are no worse than anyone else’s.
I will close with 5 things I like about myself. Please share yours in the comments below, lets start a self love fest! Wow, it’s a lot harder than I thought it would be…….
Trying to find your writing voice can feel daunting. It’s like I’m in grade school figuring out who I am. Wanting to fit it but remain unique. Being brave enough to be authentic, like that time I got a spiked mullet hair cut and refused to wear jeans for an entire school year.
Wondering if my writing skills will blossom is like waiting to get boobs when all the other girls were D cups and I had mosquito bites. It felt impossible.
Spelling errors and incomplete sentences bring the same vulnerable feeling as getting your period the day you wear white pants to school.
Staring at the computer waiting for the next thought can be just as awkward as talking to a boy on the phone for the first time.
We’ve been dating for 3 years and he still gives me the butterflies, but not always the fairy tale kind. Sometimes they feel like killer moths. For example, the annoymous comment he left on this blog:
“Ummm I find this blog to be totally revolting, and if you don’t clean up your act I’m going to send a messenger pigeon to (he used our street address and I was in full on panic mode wondering how the fuck a crazy person got my address) and shit in your mouth when you’re yawning facing upwards in your ghetto white trash hammock. (At this point my heart is beating out of my chest, my stomach is nauseous and I’m dizzy) Get it the fuck together, it’s pronounced hammock not HAM-HOCK (this was the magical moment I knew it was Jase fucking with me b/c of our ongoing battle on who pronounces hammock correctly) That’s what you were served in high school on a crappy white bread squishy roll that you put your damn fingers through and got covered in mustard.”
A little side note about me. My fight or flight response is triggered by the smallest crumb of danger and Jase knows this. He uses this knowledge to fuck with me regularly.
I recently noticed that during my meditations and getting a massage I clench my butt cheeks. I relax the buggars and within seconds they are a closed fist. The practice of meditation and massage is to relax and relieve stress. So what gives?
What is my ass trying to tell me?
Am I literally and figuratively a tight ass?
Definition of tight-assMerriam- Webster
chiefly US slang: a rigidly straitlaced, conventional, or inhibited person
Well, that certainly does not describe me……..I dug a little deeper (but not in my ass, it’s clenched)
I came across a website “The Back Pain Authority” and swing lo sweet chariot they have an article: Clenching the Buttocks. It’s a serious medical article about clenching, psychoemotional tension and back pain. Seeing as I’m not a “tight-ass” as defined by Merriam-Webster I had multiple belly laughs while learning something about my misbehaved butt cheeks.
Let me share some of my favorites, let us laugh and learn together:
The action of clenching consists of tightening up the gluteal (gluteus maximus, gluteus medius, gluteus minimus) muscles, as well as some of the interior muscles deeper inside the buttocks anatomy, including the piriformis muscle. The anal sphincter is commonly tightened. Many patients also clench some of the upper leg and hip muscles as well, including the biceps femoris and quadriceps muscles.
Exactly how does one know if they are tightening the anal sphincter along with their ass cheeks. I must admit that is a part of my body I feel detached from. Is there a meditation out there that will help me relax my sphincter?
Why Are You Clenching the Buttocks?
The primary reason we have witnessed for unconscious buttocks clenching is certainly internalized psychoemotional tension.
Well I carry quite a load of emotional baggage, as do most. Very enlightening
I will leave you with my favorite paragraphs from the article. May you laugh and take some knowledge for your life’s journey:
Stop Clenching the Buttocks
You can stop clenching your buttocks anytime you want. You simply need to become more aware of when and why you are performing the action and then make a conscious choice to cease and desist. We highly recommend integrating self-anatomical study into a full knowledge therapy program in order to recognize the signs and symptoms of internal tension that can and will eventually cause you pain (if it has not done so already…). You will be amazed at where you will find tension in your body once you begin to objectively study yourself from an external POV.
You must stop clenching the buttocks. Allowing it to continue will create a primary cause of hemorrhoids, as well as a classic manifestation of ongoing lower back, buttocks and sciatica pain. The continuous tightening of the muscle is not healthy and further restricts proper circulation, exacerbating already present ischemia issues. Furthermore, the long-term effects of clenching can lead to pelvic floor dysfunction, prostate issues, urinary problems and pelvic tilting, as well as significant and difficult to resolve muscular imbalances. You might not have any structural problem causing you to clench now, but if you keep it up, you will soon… Stop it now.
This is a call for us all to no longer unconsciously clench our butts. For better health, cheers!
If someone would have seen me lick the sour cream off this foil they would have thought I was eating my way to a treasure map. I was 100% confident that the inspirational boost I was looking for was buried under the thick white goodness. Well, son of a bitch…….I’m condemned to a day of inspirational deficiency……..
I’ve been feeling like I’ve been at the tail end of the flu for far too long. The doc did a slew of blood tests and tells me I have Mono. This whole thing is confusing to me. Apparently it’s caused by the Epstein Barr Virus which my blood tests show is very active in my body at the moment. So it’s been “reactivated”
Approximately 95 percent of us carry a pathogen called the Epstein-Barr virus (EBV). For many, this virus is caught in early childhood and largely goes unnoticed. EBV isn’t like most infections that are ‘conquered’ by our immune system but rather it ‘retreats and hides out’ in part of our immune system, called our B cells – a type of white blood cell. Unless you have something that triggers a reactivation of the virus, you’ll likely go your entire life without ever realizing you have EBV.
All I know is I’m freaking exhausted. It feels like my eye sockets are cavernous craters and my eye balls weigh a ton. Walking across the house is the equivalent of completing an iron man race. Fuck no, I’ve never done an Iron Man………
Apparently there’s no cure for this strange but very common virus. How can that be? From what I’m told and what I’ve been reading it’s all about getting the virus to retreat back into my cells and go dormant again. WTF???
Hey you, little virus, get back in your room. No one invited you to the party you snarky turd.
Vulvodynia (vul-voe-DIN-e-uh) is chronic pain or discomfort around the opening of your vagina (vulva) for which there’s no identifiable cause and which lasts at least three months. The pain, burning or irritation associated with vulvodynia can make you so uncomfortable that sitting for long periods or having sex becomes unthinkable. The condition can last for months to years.
So I’ve got this going for me. All my lady part tests came back NORMAL. Where does that leave my lady J? On fire folks. I was given a prescription of lidocaine to numb my little slice of heaven.
Your pain might be constant or occasional. It might occur only when the sensitive area is touched (provoked).
Don’t even think about “provoking” my hoo-ha with your cactus sword. Oh wait, I know, I’ll slather on some lidocaine and neither of us will feel a thing.
Because it can be painful and frustrating and can keep you from wanting sex, vulvodynia can cause emotional problems. For example, fear of having sex can cause spasms in the muscles around your vagina (vaginismus).
My Vagina is “spasming” not orgasming……..spasming……..
Aside from the horror film that is now my sex life, what about daily life in general? I’m supposed to just live with a burning sensation and conduct business as usual? Carry around a gallon jug of lidocaine? Let me delight your senses with some medical jargon that I found on Web MD and Mayo Clinic.
Signs and Symptoms of Vulvodynia
Symptoms of vulvodynia usually begin suddenly and can last anywhere from months to years.
These are the most common symptoms of vulvodynia:
Burning, stinging, or rawness
Aching, soreness, or throbbing
You may feel symptoms of vulvodynia:
All the time or just once in a while
During activities such as exercise, intercourse, or walking — or even while at rest
While bicycling, inserting tampons, or even sitting
In one specific area or throughout your entire vulva
Holy shit Web MD and Mayo Clinic you missed a few important life activities. Why have you chosen bicycling and inserting tampons????? Just say it: Your crotch will be on fire 24 fucking 7 and will make you feel clinically insane. We don’t know for how long, how to fix it or why………
Well fuck. That’s life right now. My vag is a chronic bon fire that I don’t get a break from. It’s not like a broken limb that you can easily talk about with your pals and coworkers. “Hey y’all, I’m kind of bitchy today. I have a lit match stick between my legs. A raging inferno that has no cure. I swear I don’t have cooties.”
A mid way through book review, wowza! Get it! Read it! This is spend a Sunday afternoon eating potato chips and drinking wine don’t put the book down kind of good. I swear on my cats life. I fucking love my cat.
Awkward as fuck. I’ve given birth to 4 humans and 1 cat. That means my vag has been invaded more times than I can count. It never ceases to be uncomfortable when a stranger inserts something into your hoo ha.
I had the pleasure of a pelvic ultrasound this morning.
I plainly told the tech how awkward it was and will forever be no matter how many times I’ve had my feet in metal stirrups. We shared an odd chuckle and eye contact while I was being probed.
It took 45 minutes.
That’s a long time when your pants less with your feet in stirrups. My mind became a ping pong ball. “Should I strike up a conversation? Will she fuck this up if I do? Will it take longer if I ask her questions?”
I unknowingly brought see through leggings to this party, much to the dismay of 2 out of 4 of my boys. My boyfriend was ecstatic.
Life. It’s happening RIGHT NOW. What are you bringing to the party? I’ve pissed away years with negative emotions, sob stories and pathetic tales due to the lens I chose to see life through. I’m responsible for what I show up with each and every moment. I can change the filter I see life through. No one is going to do these things for me. Fuck, really?
Really. Some days it feels like a full time job.
I came across this question in Jen Sincero’s book “You are a badass everyday”. It was a good reminder to keep my shit together and to check the opaqueness of all my leggings. https://jensincero.com/