Lost, But Seeking

I don’t know what to do with me.
Somewhere along the way,
I lost the owners manual.
There’s gas in the tank,
But the engine won’t start.

I don’t know what to do with me.
There are pieces everywhere,
shards and slivers,
I can’t find them all.
The cracks are visible.

I don’t know what to do with me.


I’m Not Your Eye Candy

I’ve posted a few things relating to body image and body issues, but what I’m dealing with now is entirely new territory.

I had Lucas almost 7 weeks ago, between then and now I’ve lost a little over 20 pounds, I’d lost nearly 15 of that before I’d even left the hospital. Because of how sick I was I’d lost weight instead of gained it while I was pregnant. I ended up gaining 6 pounds, Lucas weighed almost 8. I’ve always had a body type described as curvy, the inch difference between my waist and hips is in the double digits. I also have a large bust (see bra rant further back in this blog for further details). I’ve never been comfortable with my body. I was always too big to be attractive (thanks to all the assholes who said that), but apparently now I’ve reached some sort of attractiveness level where random men in convenience stores, grocery stores, while I’m checking my mail, feel the need to say inappropriate shit to me. I’ve had people tell me I should enjoy it, but frankly I’ve never been a fan of being harassed.

As much as I’ve talked about and tried to understand what it feels like to be objectified and treated like an object I never really did understand it until the day I was taking my kids in the house and some creeper at the apartment next to mine decided to ‘hey girl’ me and then offer to give me a ride in my vehicle, among other things. I felt creeped out, and dirty in a way I didn’t like. I started to question what I was wearing (skinny jeans, a tank top and flip flops), had I done something to imply I wanted to be harassed in front of a large group of men? No, I hadn’t. I was taking my kid out of the car for fuck’s sake.

This kind of behavior has happened nearly every time I’ve been in public by myself. I don’t like it, at all. I want to go back to being invisible, rather than deal with this crap. I don’t understand what makes a man think it’s appropriate to harass a woman in public just because he thinks she’s attractive. It makes my skin crawl and makes me feel like I should be doing something to deter them, like not wearing my skinny jeans or not wearing a tank top. But then I get angry because I like my jeans damn it, and it’s hot outside, I’m not wearing a turtle neck and getting heat stroke.

My body is mine, I don’t exist to be an object for anyone else. I’m a person who doesn’t deserve to be harassed while I’m buying diapers for my kids. I shouldn’t have to feel like I can’t wear what’s comfortable for me because someone else can’t control themselves. When did this kind of stuff become the norm? And why is it accepted? Why don’t other men tell these douchebags to shut up? When the guy was harassing me outside of my apartment there were six other people standing there, none of them said stop, none of them told him he was out of line. They laughed, egged him on and added their own two cents to his commentary on my body and implied I owed them my attention because they found me attractive. I’m not ok with this, I’m not going to accept it or put up with it.


I shake inside.
Ears are ringing,
I can’t breathe,
My thoughts are jumbled,
Images racing,
Shattering and breaking.
One after another,
Crashing to the floor
Of my mind.

A bullet flying through,
Shards are slicing,
I can’t find my words.

Water pushing over my lashes,
Humiliation, weakness,
My face is burning.
Stop it stupid,
I’m screaming in my mind.
The sobs croak out,
Relief rushes in.
Fingers shaking, body twitching,
Breathe in, breathe out,
Panic subsides.

I Am.

I recently heard Macklemore’s song Same Love (yeah, I know..behind the times) and the song struck a chord (no pun intended) in me. The first few lines of the song made me cry. I remember being a kid, maybe 8 or 9, and realized I looked at girls and boys the same way. I didn’t know what that was called, I didn’t know who to tell, whether to tell, but I worried it was wrong because no one else seemed to feel the same way. It alienated me. I carried that alienation with me throughout the rest of my childhood, and as I got older and learned what being gay and bisexual were I felt more alienated. The kids around me made fun of gay kids, made it seem like there was something wrong with them, I didn’t want to be a target so I stayed quiet. I pretended to fit in, to be like everyone else and on the inside it hurt. I never felt like anyone understood me, and I felt like I couldn’t say anything. It wasn’t until high school that I found a small voice, I could stick up for others. I could say there was nothing wrong with them, they were just people, but I couldn’t say that I was one of them. I’d lived being something else for so long I didn’t know how to say it wasn’t me.

Even as an adult I often choose not to say anything about myself. I defend and fight for LGBT rights but in some ways I still feel like I’m not part of the community, probably because I’m not publicly out. In the few instances I’ve come out someone always demands I explain myself, explain “what” I am. Then there’s the implication I’m promiscuous, that I can’t be committed to someone or that I just don’t know what I want so I just call myself bisexual in order to cover up that I’m just a whore. It makes me feel like I have to explain myself, defend myself. I don’t ask anyone to explain their sexuality, why is mine up for scrutiny? Why should I have to give anyone explanations for feelings I could never explain even to myself. How do I explain something that just is, it was never a choice I made, in fact I tried hard to make myself fit in and be straight so it wouldn’t bother anyone else.

I have friends, two specifically who inspire me all the time, they are just themselves no matter what anyone else says. I admire their bravery and frequently wish I could borrow some of it. I hear so often that gay people should just shut up about being gay, and I wonder why we have to shut up. Why we’re not allowed to be who we are, freely and openly without restrictions, without being told we’re gross or going to hell or that we’re a bad influence and can’t have families because we’ll corrupt children. Why do we have to change, why can’t the world change? Why can’t I just say I’m bisexual and not have to answer a million questions that are really no one’s business. I’ve decided I won’t answer those questions anymore. I am me. This is who I am, I owe no explanations, I don’t have to justify anything to anyone. I’m tired of carrying around the alienation and the pressure to fit in. I don’t think I’ll ever fit in with mainstream society, and that’s OK now.

The chorus of Same Love is so simple but so true of all us, we can’t change, even if we tried, even if we wanted to. A straight person could no sooner choose to be gay than a gay person choose to be straight, it really is that simple. We are who we are, no explanations needed, no justifications, we’re all just people trying to find love and happiness.

She. And Me

Cast me off,
Throw me aside.
Compare and contrast
To she and she and she,
I wonder when you’ll see

The words I’ve whispered
Carry no meaning,
My body I’ve given,
Not good enough, is it?
It’s always she and she and she,
But never me.

Still, I’m trying
The tears, they fall hard
I’m hiding the damage.
Your words hit like punches,
I hear in your voice,
She and she and she.
You win, there’s no more


I am fallen by the wayside,
Little broken pieces
Litter the ground beneath
My feet.

Pick one up,
Another falls.

Sweep me up
And throw me away.

I am fallen by the wayside,
A husk, not worth
Your time.
Move on, keep going.

The Loneliness of Being Sick

For the last 8 months or so I have not been a well woman. Three months after Joshua was born I found myself pregnant again, I was given antibiotics that interfered with the effectiveness of my birth control, I was unaware this could happen so I didn’t take any extra precautions. So, here we are. Unlike with Joshua I was sick from the very beginning of this pregnancy, excessive throwing up, serious abdominal pain and an inability to eat pretty much everything. Things got worse, I was prescribed anti-nausea meds after I was unable to eat anything for nearly two days and had begun throwing up after drinking water. Finally, after months of being sick I was told by an urgent care doctor I had gallstones. The doctor told me to eat a low fat diet, and things should get better, seemed simple enough. Things didn’t get better. I got worse, I started losing weight instead of gaining or even maintaining weight, I was in near constant pain. Finally, after being in OB Triage for the fourth time I got a referral to a surgeon. I was hopeful this meant I would be able to complete my pregnancy without being constantly sick. When I went to see the surgeon he told me flat out he wouldn’t perform surgery because I was too far along, it was too big of a risk. He could see I was upset, after being sick for so long I was being told once again there was nothing they could do. He offered me another option, a tube in my gallbladder to help keep it clear and prevent an infection. I agreed to the procedure.

On the morning of my procedure I got the full picture of what I was having done, it was actually a gallbladder drain tube which meant I’d have this tube about two feet long sticking out of my upper abdomen and draining into a small bag I’d have to carry around with me. Sounds pleasant right? I wasn’t really very happy with the idea, but I thought if it would help I’d do it. The procedure sounded simple enough, I’d be sedated but not put fully under, the doctor would insert a needle into my gallbladder to guide a wire in which he would use to guide the tube in and anchor the tube so it wouldn’t move. They said I’d be a little sore for a few days.

A little sore was the biggest understatement of the year.The pain during the procedure was so bad it brought me out of sedation, I was cried out and told the doctor to stop. He didn’t, he completed the procedure. I was in so much pain my entire body was shaking, they gave me a dose of Demerol before moving me to recovery, while in recovery I received two more doses of Demerol. I could barely stand up or walk, when I came home I laid down on the couch and didn’t move for close to 5 hours.

I spent the next week in horrible pain, ended up going back to OB Triage because the pain was so bad I couldn’t move. They gave me pain meds to take at home and told me there wasn’t much else they could do.

It’s going on week three of the tube, and I’m still in horrible pain, after going into OB Triage at one o’clock in the morning because 10 milligrams of oxycodone hadn’t even made a dent in the pain they had the tube re-stabilized and did an MRI to make sure it was properly placed.  I have six weeks left before I can have the new baby and have my gallbladder taken out.

After being sick for so long I feel like this has taken over my life, it’s certainly taken over my thoughts. I go to sleep hoping the pain won’t wake me up, hoping I won’t have to get up to go to the bathroom and hoping when I wake up in the morning I won’t be in too much pain. When I wake up in the morning I hope I’ll be able to get Ben to work and take care of the baby while he’s at work. I spend the day counting every little movement the new baby makes, hoping he’s OK and hating myself every time I need to take something for the pain.

I can’t really see my friends, it’s too hard on me to go anywhere, I have to push myself to go to the store. I spend most days at home with Joshua trying my best to take care of him and make sure I’m still a good mommy to him. It’s tiring, and it’s lonely. There’s only so many times you can tell people how much pain you’re in before they just get tired of hearing it, so I do my best to put a happy face on, to try not to be The Sick Girl.

It wears on me. The anxiety I normally deal with has increased exponentially, which just makes me a nervous, cranky wreck no one really wants to deal with, which ultimately makes it worse. Tears come easily, hurt feelings happen in a flash and anger and frustration are always right below the surface. I feel like a failure as a mother, the one thing my body is supposedly built to do is the one thing it’s managed to screw up twice. I fear every cramp, every moment of abdominal pressure, I beg my body everyday just to work long enough to get this baby safely into the world. Let him be ok is the only thing I really think anymore.

It’s overwhelming, and most days I don’t even know where to start when someone asks me how I am, so I shut things out, and I shut myself down. I want this tube gone, I want my gallbladder gone, I want my new little baby to be born healthy and safe, and I want to be able to be myself again, if I can even find myself again.