Sounds Like Peacock, Way Less Pretty

So fucking bitter. I received unpleasant news this week. I have polycystic ovarian syndrome. The radiologist knew almost straight away so I went into the appointment with my doctor a little better prepared for the news than I could have been. There's no real hard and fast treatment for PCOS, the only recommendation are androgens (hormone treatment) and a healthy lifestyle. So my GP told me to lose some weight. This is coming from the person who has been following my lifestyle choices for TWO YEARS. I haven't eaten full fat dairy in at least 18 months. Exercise and diet have only slowed down the rate at which I stack on weight like crazy. That's one of the many joyful benefits of PCOS. No matter what I do, no matter how healthy my meals are, or how often I exercise, my body refuses to stop storing everything as fat. I could live off salad and water, and by the end of the week I'll still have gained weight. PCOS occurs in approximately 20% of the female (sex but not gender) population who are of childbearing age. It is usually not picked up on until there are physical signs such as excessive acne, body hair or irregular periods so it is entirely possible that number is much higher due to undiagnosed cases. PCOS is also a potential factor as to the cause of my miscarriages as well as my anxiety and depression issues. Like fuck, why? Why you gotta ruin EVERYTHING. So frustrated that I actually cried. I try not to cry because hey, my lungs are still fucked from having pneumonia over a year ago and I'm actually not a fan of not being able to breathe. UGH.

Tiger Lilly, Lilly Pad, Lilly Pilly, Lilly of the Valley

I have just had an amazing weekend. I went up to Gunbower (weapon bedroom?) for the weekend. I stayed with a friend, swam in a river and avoided showers. I drank vodka, swayed in a vodka and had a picnic with myself. Everyone kept trying to make a big deal out of this being during exam week. It had to be! I needed the peace and lack of calamity. I slept on a couch and had bacon for breakfast. I preferred it. I'm trying to bring myself to terms with the fact that I would much rather be my happy than successful. I partially need to learn this in case I don't get into my choice of uni but also because it is just who I am. I don't need money, I need platypuses and water birds. I don't need a huge house, I need my life within walking distance. I can't do country living, it hurts to be so far from the people I love. I just need escapades. Like weekends with Kim or running to Cowes late at night. That's one thing I couldn't take with Kim, especially with my dad around to aggravate the situation further. She looks at me like she has her best friend back and then can't forgive me for not being her. I can't do everything for everyone. I need some things for myself. I am weird. I know it. That does not mean that every single little fun thing I do is part of my breeding. Oh, Amy's a bit of a loony tune? That's so Carolynne? You want to know a little bit of truth? She stopped raising me at eleven. You can take my spontaneity and outbursts and cute little games and blame that all on my father. The silence. The anger, depression, scars, suicides, attention span. They come from being and not being raised by him. People need to stop giving me someone elses life and then claiming I break their hearts by only reaching halfway to their expectations. I don't want to be her. I'm happy to evoke memories and listen to stories but don't hate me for being unable to raise the dead to more than a face. That is not my problem.

So much Rice. So much Jarvis. Not so much Spektor.

You know what? I am so fucking sick of people telling me what's healthy and normal an ok. I know what feels right, I know what feels wrong and anything inbetween I will work on at my own fucking pace. I deserve to be happy, to feel gorgeous or beautiful or sexy, to sleep in my own bed or on a couch (or not sleep at all), to drive at any time I like and to panic if I FEEL LIKE PANICKING! I'm tired and angry at other people all the time because they won't let me live with my choices. I can live with them and be happy! You just won't let me. So fuck what you think, fuck what they think, fuck what I think and go to hell. I'll watch Hook at one in the morning if I damn well want to and it's none of your business trying to stop me. FUCK OFF AND STOP CARING, IT'S NOT HELPING. I can clearly do things just fine on my own if I have to and damn it all to fucking hell, I WANT TO.

OI, LURKERS

Fourteen page views in an hour and not one of you little shits leaves a comment? Disagree with me! Vent! Share tales of lemons and wisdom! Just let me know who you are. Tee

Let's not keep a dead dog.

It started out as a series of questions, each one further depreciating the self but to be honest, it was never really about the faults she carried. It was mean of her but she began to laugh.

I found God...

I'm mad. I thought that finally, I had my friend back and that he would be there. We stayed up past 3am just talking to be each other, spending time enjoying the company of another person and I gave him so much time. I listened while he vented and tried to be helpful until I became too worn down. And do you know what he promised me? That he would be there when it as my turn. I laughed it off and told him it doesn't do to dwell. Some of the things I feel are not pretty, are not for dragging out into the daylight. And then I changed my mind. It's worth feeling the pain to know that someone knows and can care about how hurt you are. So I slowly let on that maybe I was ready to talk. And he wasn't there. So it began to get worse. Even when I told him straight up that I needed him and I needed his support, he wasn't there. I was so happy to have my friend back because it is unbelievable just how much I had missed him without realising. Now it has turned sour. Where were you when I needed you? Why didn't you listen when I told you I needed the help? We went in circles, telling the same tales about your aches and I went deeper and deeper into the dark place because if no one listened then I was supposed to have you. Only I didn't have you so where was I supposed to go from there? Why did you lie to me?

Real friends judge you more on that cigarette

I was pretty sure I was getting booty called at 11.45 last night but no. My ex-boyfriend had the intent of sleeping with me. You know, sleep. His chest against my back and both arms around me. This is not how it works. He lost. He treated me like a game and acted like a player and I won. And I can keep winning if I want because I still have yet to tell him that I actually dated the guy teaching me piano who he hated for being intellectual. And that I love him best. Sully, I love you best. I love Sam longest and I love Trent hardest. When I tell people that to cope with stress, two techniques included are half a cigarette and casual sex with the person whom I conceived my child by I judge just as I am judged. I prefer the friends who judge me on the cigarette. The people who call me unhealthy for my casual relationship are the emotional blackmailers and they have no place if they judge. I don't care. I can hardly feel any more so why should I care? I do not agree that this is unhealthy and I don't think this makes me a slut. I understand that I called it quits but that never meant I stopped loving my partner. He forfeited the right to sunshine and now he gets what he is given, not what he asks for. Last night I participated in a presentation for SANDS as a keynote speaker. I asked that more effort should be made to train persons my age to support persons my age because I felt judged by my loss because of my age. My son was still my son, is still my son. I am just as much a mother as someone in their twenties, thirties, forties but I was not treated this way. People judged me for my pregnancy and then tried to justify my loss. I prefer comfort. So I'll not take it any more. Since leaving the man I have loved for two years, we have had three one night stands and even as I share this with the internet, it is none of your business. It is not your place.

That time of year

I'm struggling with exam stress. I have tried so many things, so many, many things to overcome it and still I haven't. I don't think it's just exam stress though. My life is gaining on me and it is brutal. I've tried meditation and massage and yoga and even half a cigarette but that left a gross taste in my mouth so I think that's on the 'no' list too now. So far, the only thing that has helped even temporarily is sex with the father of the child I lost and we are not together any more. This doesn't feel like 'me'. That's not the kind of person I thought I was and yet, I need to lie down with someone who is willing to kiss my forehead and play with my hair. This is likely to be something I abuse until my exams are over but not after. So what does that even make me? I'm sticking to someone I know is clean and won't pass anything on to me, someone who loves me and I know. He has seen me naked. He has seen my useless stretch marks. He is a warm body willing to hold onto me. I do feel remorse and I am uncomfortable and if there is another time, chances are I will become the kind of person who leaves once he is asleep but it is working at present for me. I don't FEEL any more. I am not afraid of car accidents. I don't worry that I will never have children or I will be unloved. When I think I feel, I am really just remembering the things I am supposed to be occupied with and then listing them. I dream in Greek and consider driving off a hill. I picked one with a view and although I'm inclined to worry due to its proximity to my house, I don't. I just don't feel.

Are you Reddy?

Some people and their timing just make my head want to explode. I've had a head ache the last for days which probably doesn't help but for the most part, I'm just going to blame people. Like Trent. I left him over two weeks ago and I'm starting to feel the sadness instead of the freedom and after not talking to me the entire time, even after I mentioned shark week being late he still has the nerve to fuck with my feels. Half an hour into my shift at work last night, he texts saying he misses me. Yeah, well he should have though of that when he stopped treating me like a fucking princess. I am a modern goddess and the second he stopped worshipping me for everything I have to offer, he put himself in the position to lose me. It took longer than it should have. I have to be a big girl no and tell him to fuck off and never speak to me only I know I would hate to say that. I want him in my life, so badly but he doesn't deserve it. If he so much as wants to stay friends, he is going to have to work himself halfway dead to earn it. I deserve adoration and unconditional love. I am entitled to such more than he has offered. I am and I will keep telling myself that because I'm not believing it. I HAVE MANY ADMIRABLE QUALITIES SUCH AS MY FREE SPIRIT, IMPRESSIVE INTELLECT AND ENJOYMENT OF LITERATURE. I also have boobs. Guys love boobs. Moving on. I've just started to allow myself to flirt and realise other guys actually exist and he comes in with three little words and a sad sideways smiley and just flips shit upside down. There is a sweet guy at work, the kind who says nice things to his mum. And there's a fun guy who tells the worst jokes because he knows how bad they are. And there's the guy with the awesome tattoo who picks on me and calls me out on my dimples. The one who makes an effort to see me before he leaves when we have shifts together. The one who listened to a whole bunch of Regina Spektor songs so he'd be able to understand the secret girl code I've got going with Oriana. And also because I told him about Chemo Limo and he wanted to know why I liked it. I'm attractive and people notice me. I hadn't really noticed them noticing but it happens and I never saw because I felt like I wasn't worth it. WELL I AM. And now that I'm starting to feel my insecurity and anxiety again, when I am vulnerable and nearing weaknesses, Trent tells me I'm missed. What is he hoping for? I'm not allowing a miracle. He's not being instantly forgiven. Relationships are meant to make you happy, at least most of the time if not all. They are not meant to make you sad and insecure and doubtful of the other person. I don't trust him not to hurt me. I don't trust him when it comes to a lot of things actually. He is going to have to work on so many levels just to get me to talk with him. And the first thing I'm going to ask for? The things I left at his place.

*Jaw's Theme*

I'm going through some feels today and I've got to admit, they're pretty unpleasant. Just to be extra, super sure there is no growing fetus and since I'm due for an ultrasound anyway (October and April I have them) I went in for one this morning. I've done a couple home tests, both negatives so I wasn't expecting anything unusual but even when you are deliberately not getting your hopes up, you get your hopes up a little. One thing that makes me mad at people is they keep putting a timeline on my grief. I don't have to stop feeling sad if I don't feel ready to. The part that breaks me most though is people don't see me as a mother because I never held what they would consider a valid baby. My baby died at 7 gestational weeks. He was about the size of my fingernail with no easily discernible features. For the rest of the world, he was not recognisable and therefore not recognised. Well FUCK YOU. He matters to me. I am a mother, I had a child in the womb. No, it wasn't for long but I wanted things for him in the short time I knew he was there. He could have been gay or a doctor or a serial killer or an artist living in Korea and I would never have loved him any less. So I took to madly dancing and enjoying myself in my pj pants sans top listening to Fidelity. And it just made me sad when I stopped. Happiness is temporary and it's hurting me. I want some comfort or some company but I know it will only work until it is over. And I'm finally starting to hurt over my break-up and shark week arrived and my nipples ache and I don't want to get out of bed.