Shaken, Shaky, and Shamed: Personal Update

It’s a full week since my last post, and, more importantly, a full week since my pelvic exam which threw me into a world of horror. I’m still not in a good space. My head has not been troubled by circular thoughts I can’t banish. That’s refreshing, at least. But my body’s been holding onto the pain.

It took 5 days before the “physical” pain subsided – quotations are used because I really don’t know if it was just physical or psychological or a combination and I’m not going to make that call here. But my body is still very, very tight. Yes, there was constipation. Still is a bit. Odd truth: I can’t seem to keep enough water in my system. I drink water all day long, but my hands remain prune-wrinkled. Since I’m not doing dishes or anything else that would make my fingers look like that I’m assuming it’s dehydration. But no matter how much water I drink I just pee it out and my hands remain looking dehydrated. So I don’t know.

I keep testing my subconscious and failing. Every time I imagine the exam in my head I catch my body twitching: my torso tightens up, my legs clamp together and I get very rigid. It takes a lot of deep breathing and effort to make myself relax after that, and it shouldn’t. I shouldn’t be reacting this way at all. But I am, and it’s just one more symptom I’m carrying right now that tells me my conscious mind has shoved everything into the closet and it’s stewing back there.

This week I have to do something I’m finding very difficult to do. I must see my doctor again. Yes, she was there during the exam. The shame I feel over my reaction is so deep I’m having a hard time making the appointment to see her. Unfortunately, I have no other option. My next counseling session is coming up and I need a new referral letter from my GP to check for bipolar in order for my counselor to proceed.

My head has been screaming since I realized this. I’ve never heard so much back sliding in my own mind. Oh, I don’t want to do this! Here’s a bit:

You’re not really bipolar. You’re just neurotic and mimicking the symptoms. Checking for it is a waste of time. You know it is. You’re not qualified to make any judgements, and you know only fools diagnose themselves.Besides, as soon as you step into her (my GP’s) office she’s going to want to talk about the exam and you don’t want to talk about the exam. Never, never, never. Don’t touch me. Get away. Leave me alone. Even if you can dodge a big conversation about what happened she’s going to want to talk to you about the whole bipolar thing. No one is going to believe you’re bipolar because you sleep too much. That’s just the fact of it; you heard it yourself last counseling session. You’re just an out of control neurotic with who knows what other shit is going on type of person.

ugh….*mental puke* I can pull that up to write it down but it isn’t easy to let it go. Don’t really feel like I have let it go, just shoved it under the covers.

For fuck’s sake I feel like I’m prepping to go to war and it’s just not that big a fucking deal!!!!! Just make the fucking appointment with your damned GP and GET IT OVER WITH. Talk to her. Yes, you’ll be embarrassed. Of course. You were during the fucking exam. Deal with it. And yes, maybe she’ll judge what you have to say: that’s HER problem. You need this so get the fuck out of your chair and make the goddamn fucking appointment!

…….I heard in the news this morning about some publicity stunt Clinton pulled with Putin and a ‘reset button’. I wish I had a reset button. I’d hit it with no regrets………

And even as that’s written down I know it’s a lie. I wouldn’t. I’d be very, very tempted right now. However, I’m an old SF fan, so the story of resetting one’s life and then turning into a jerk is far too familiar to me. It’s the pain and rejection in our lives that truly end up defining us: they cause us to react, whether we want to or not. We make choices, we move on. Things change. And when that happens, we learn (or so I bloody well hope. Sometimes I feel like I’m the only one on this damned planet TRYING to learn). With luck, we become better people. But if I could hit a reset button for myself that rid me of the rape, the abortion, last week’s exam, and all the other ugly and horrible memories I have without touching anything else…..

Would it be so bad to be untouched by some of the horror I’ve seen? Would I be so bad if I remained untouched by it? I can’t answer either of those questions, of course. Still, the questions remain in my heart. I can’t help but wish for a life where none of it happened. Because I think if I had that life I’d be happy. Every time I imagine it I’m smiling. But that’s not the truth, and I know it.

The truth is I’ve had ’emotional’ problems right from the beginning of my life. My earliest memory? A recurring b&w nightmare I had as a child. The first emotion I can remember feeling? Guilt. Those two facts alone point to early life problems that had nothing to do with the rape, the abortion, or last week’s exam. Add these early life facts to the equation:

  1. Recurring stress induced illnesses as a child: If I was worried about something big coming up chance were 100% I’d be running a fever and vomiting by the morning. Every. Time.
  2. Recurring poor relationships with women: My very first friend in kindergarden was over playing one day. I had a new book of stickers – beautiful bird stickers. I showed them to her. As she was leaving I caught her with them stuffed up the back of her shirt. The sharpness of this particular memory is strange: I remember so well her lying to me, and saying she hadn’t know they were there. To date, number of true female friends in my life: 1. And I managed to fuck that one up.
  3. Recurring mood swings: My depressive moods have always been easy to see for anyone caring enough to look. However, people who have encountered me when I’ve been on ‘a high’ emotionally can never reconcile that person with the depressive. I’ve even been accused of having split or multiple personalities.
  4. Recurring self destructive behavior: Sex without protection? Yes. Alcohol abuse? Yes. Drug abuse? Yes. Maxing out credit cards? Yes. Exercising to the point of hurting myself? Yes. Taking on too much work? Yes. Do I have to go on here?
  5. Recurring irritability: My dad used to say I’d have “a hard on for the world”. No topic, no comment, no situation, NOTHING can occur that will elicit anything nice out of me. Everything falling from my lips is dripping with anger, blame, sarcasm, and dare I say it – irrational fury. As a woman growing up during the time I did, the most common question asked of me was: having your period? Yes, that served to infuriate me even more. No, don’t get in my way when I’m like that because I will take your head off, drink your blood, and LIKE it.

……The one thing I truly regret in my life is learning how to lie with words. I was taught so early to not talk about my problems, to misdirect with what I say, that I have a real hard time talking about it now, when I need to. So once again in my life I must fall back on Yoda’s wisdom: I must unlearn what I have learned.


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