She Ain't Pretty...

Angry, self-pitying Dani, that is.

Anger isn't normally attractive... nor is self pity.

It's hard to predict, hard to spit polish, and for me at least, hard to hide.

I'm also emotional as hell. Some days it is mind numbing, being a human female. There is no way for me to know for certain, but I really do not believe that men experience anywhere near what women do for hormonal swings. For me, it is especially challenging as I am often unsure if I have a med issue, or am simply experiencing a hormone fueled flippity flop. 

Had to go back to my doc last night to get more medication for my very angry coochie. My poor girl is not in good shape just now. Even while giving yet another urine sample, she's so swollen and raw from the infection by this point... well, I peed all over my hand. I did a better job of that when I had twenty pounds of Stretch sitting on my bladder. 

I was told I would be getting an internal exam... you know, to make certain everything looked in order... she didn't give me one and I said nothing. Why, you may ask? Well... my bladder has now irritated my bowel as well, and I spent an inordinate amount of time in the bathroom yesterday, praying I wouldn't inadvertently pass something important. I had soaked the offending parts in the bathtub prior to attending the doc, but I had a legit concern about adding the pressure of a stainless steel speculum... especially whilst experiencing an explosive colon.

Can you imagine?

Anybody for a shit storm?

Oh man, it even hurts to laugh... it super sucks to be me this week.

Anyhoo... while I was just as well pleased not to have to endure that discomfort last night, I am not feeling confident there isn't anything else wrong inside my infected body. Plus, it's like she doesn't even want to see my vagina... what the hell? 

I also had to meet with Narci yesterday afternoon to discuss my term life policy that expires next month. I hated Narci like poison as a boss, but I have to admit it was nice to see him after nearly seven years. Despite myself, I've always liked him as a person... and he is so much fun to listen to. I mean 80% of what he retells in a story is likely bullshit (or at least I hope so) but he has to be one of the most entertaining story tellers I know. 

Where the conversation pertained to insurance, it was depressing. Insurance Actuaries do not tend to instill faith that someone my age should even still be alive, based on the way my policy was rated. Of course, I weighed over 300 lbs when I originally got the policy... that is likely the biggest reason.

Now, I smoke pot, I'm 46 and I have been diagnosed with, and am being treated for bipolar disorder... which has a very high statistical occurrence of suicide. Also, my husband is nearly 54 and though he did quit smoking a year ago, if they pick up the cigars and he gets rated a smoker... we may not be able to afford insurance.

We're trying to decide if we should do a 20 year term this time. To save us from having to renew again. We'd be dropping an additional $50K in coverage... which really I don't want to lose. $100K is not enough insurance, but it has to be affordable. I guess the medical portion will determine what we do. At $100K, I do not need a paramedical, but Hubs does.

Yesterday turned into a macabre day - all the way around. I felt like I should have been making end of life decisions, too. Honestly, that's easy, though... burn me and put me on somebody's mantle - or plant me in a tree, then have a big party. Hopefully I'll have done something by that time worth celebrating.

Speaking of celebrating, I informed my family I want a birthday party this year. We didn't have the one I had originally planned for when my sister was home, and I want to have a party, dammit! Maybe I'll even get a birthday present! Squee! 

Jesus, I wouldn't know how to handle a present, it's been years since we've exchanged gifts.

That isn't why I want the party... I want my people to make me feel good. Wanted. Celebrated. I know it is selfish, and isn't up to me, but if I leave them to do it on their own, it'll never happen. So - I made the statement and voiced my desire... no - I am NOT a control freak... I'm NOT!

There are still no plans in place. I guess I will be planning, executing, cooking, cleaning and decorating for it, too.

It isn't hard to tell I am feeling very under appreciated just now. I hope like fuck this passes with whatever funk, I find myself in, at present... Oh, and I think I started my period this morning, too... either that, or I am hemorrhaging. I feel like someone slashed my girly parts into hamburger meat. Oh well, at least my body isn't attempting to purge any internal organs yet today.

Poor Dani... *pats own head* What a sin...

Maybe I'm just over tired. I didn't sleep well last night at all, and during my limited sleep, I dreamed an awful dream - over and over. I was dreaming about my house on the lake, and my subsequent ousting by the three other members of the household. The dream was mixing images and fears about my house that I lost more recently, to a financial throat-punch, and the drama around moving my kids' schools. Fuck was I a mess when I awoke at 3 am, unable to return to sleep for fear of having my nose rubbed in all of that mess again. 

I have tried to let this go. I truly have. I have written about it, kept a dream journal, discussed it in therapy, meditated on it, forgiven (as much as humanly possible) all parties involved - myself being the most difficult to absolve... yet, it remains. A constant reminder of loss. It still makes me cry, 22 years later... almost to the day for the first one. It really isn't just about the structure. The physical house was not my attachment... it was so very much more than that - in both cases. It was security, surety and my general sense of myself... and I allowed someone (or thing) to take it from me... TWICE! Because I wasn't strong enough to fight any longer.

I had watched the latest episode of 'This Is Us' last night... the ONLY show I will actually stay up past ten for normally, although this week, I recorded it in favor of sleeping. Love this show, but it makes me ugly cry - every damned time! Crying does something very unpleasant to my eyes. This morning, I resemble a bullfrog again... was an inopportune time to be encouraging tears. Once they start, they can be challenging to stop.

It occurs to me that I have perhaps entered the depressive state of my 'disorder' recently. My brain (in this state) is incredibly adept at punishing me for everything and anything it can conjure. I struggle with latent anger, sadness, malaise and an overriding sense of hopelessness. It isn't fun. Add a screaming hoochie and a bitch of a period, and you've got yourself one miserable bitch!

I just want to go home and crawl into my bed and sleep until all of this is gone... I figure it'll be very late November before I pull out again... guess I'll talk to everyone again, then. 

I hate being the downer.

*patting own head* poor, poor Dani... boo hoo...