Tonight my bestie told me that when her house was burglarized a few months back, the assfucks who broke in stole her dildo. Like what in the actual fuck?! Who steals a used dildo? I have so many questions…
I don’t know if you’ll read this or not, or if you even know this blog exists, and I honestly don’t want to know. I just need to say that despite all that has been, and all that may come, I love you. I know it probably doesn’t feel that way sometimes, and I’m sorry I’m too fucked up to fix that about myself, but it’s true just the same.
Once upon a time, this dude told me that having a blog all about myself was ridiculous and implied that I was incredibly vain. While it may very well be the case that I am vain, I don’t think it’s vain or ridiculous to have a blog. It’s not like I ask people to read this. In fact, I’ve only ever purposefully shared this blog with a few close friends. Everyone else found it in other ways; the most notable of which being Titfest 2015.
And maybe I am vain. I’m the center of my own little universe. Me, Dave, and the kids are in the center. There are a few rings of friends floating around us. Outside of that, I don’t see much. I’ve withdrawn into my only little bubble filled with the people I love, my firm, my (soon to be built) new house, my friends, my cat, and the silly little things that I love. And I choose to document them here because it makes me happy to look back and reflect on the lovely little world I’ve made for myself. I don’t see anything wrong with that.
- Could Daryl and Beth be any cuter? They are my faves. #TheWalkingDead
- I heard the most depressing song ever on Friday night. My Orphan Year. Maybe I cried a little bit. Shut up.
- My ex-husband’s grandfather committed suicide this weekend. It has been on my mind a lot since I found out. It’s one of those weird situations where you feel sad, but then you feel like you don’t have the right to be sad, because you’re the one who wanted to get divorced. You’re the one that left that family behind. But in reality, life doesn’t work that way. Emotions don’t work that way. You don’t stop caring about people just because you get divorced. I’m entitled to feel sad, and I do.
- Xanax, thank you for all you do.
- Serious body issues tonight. I’m avoiding mirrors.
- I get to spend every night for the next week with my kiddo. <3
- I think I’m going to Scotland at the end of the month. My boyfriend is going for business and has invited me to join him.
- I need it to warm up so I can start running outside again. Spring cannot come soon enough.
- I think I’m going to go ahead and do the half-marathon in April since I’m already signed up for it. I’ll have to walk most of it, since I haven’t trained at all, but whatever. I need to worry less about the time, and more about the experience.
- Tomorrow is girls night with the bestie. Can’t wait. I’m thinking it’s definitely a pizza and wine kind of night.
- I leave you with my face, because it’s Mugshot Monday.
Another surgery completed!
Afternoon surgeries really suck. I was so hungry and thirsty by the time I got to the hospital that I had the worst headache. I was supposed to go to the OR at 2:30, but didn’t go until about 45 minutes after that because my surgeon was running behind. It wasn’t as traumatizing going in this time. (I cried last time). I feel like a pro.
When I woke up in recovery, I was in more pain than I expected to be, but it was still way better than the last surgery. I’ve discovered that morphine and I don’t mix. It does very little to control my pain. I suffered for about an hour before I was able to get oxycodone, which made everything better.
Upon waking post-surgery, I was overcome with an intense sadness, and I started to cry. I’m still adjusting to the fact that I’m a cancer patient. I have breast cancer at 33. Wtf? That’s a hard pill to swallow. I have two more incisions. I have a port in my chest so that the nurses can easily inject poison into my body starting next month. This is just completely ridiculous.
Once I’ve recovered from this surgery and can drive, I’m going to check out the local Young Women’s Breast Cancer Group, which meets in Clayton. I need to meet people who can relate to what I’m going through. I’ve started to feel a bit lonely lately. Almost everyone has been amazing about this, but none of them really understand how I’m feeling. I’m hoping to meet someone my age I can talk with candidly.
Being diagnosed with cancer is good for a few things:
1. It shows you very quickly who you can count on. That is a real eye opener. I have found it to be somewhat surprising, and as a result, a few relationships have strengthened considerably.
2. Perspective. I see things differently now. My priorities are changing. I appreciate how precious and fleeting life really is. I intend to live my life differently moving forward.
There is more, but it’s 2:30 in the morning, so that’s good for now.