OctPoWriMo 2019: Day 15: Mother May I Be a Mother (Choka)

Image by Free-Photos from Pixabay

when I was pregnant

it was a surprise to me

planned for adoption

told I could never give birth

it was not my wish

but it turned out for the best

~Cie~

Notes:

Because I had PCOS, I was told that I would never be able to have children. 

I married young and had been married for 6 years. We used no form of birth control because we believed we couldn't have children. We planned to adopt. 

While on vacation to Montana and Canada in 1989, I started feeling sick. This was shortly after the death of one of my childhood friends, who was working as a park ranger in Yellowstone. She slipped into a river and drowned. One of the places we went to see was the site where she died. I was having nightmares and wondered if my queasy feeling was due to the trauma of losing my old friend.

I felt sick for a month straight.

Figuring I was dying (and not entirely unhappy about that prospect because my life had never been particularly gleeful) I went to the doctor. She ran some tests.

I rather melodramatically asked her if I had a tumor.

She laughed and said "of a sort, I suppose. It will resolve on its own in approximately seven and a half months."

She gave me a referral to an OB/GYN.

For some reason when the nurse practitioner asked how I felt about being pregnant, it pissed me off. I didn't let on that the question made me angry, but I didn't like it. The answer, really, was surprised. I said I supposed I was okay with it. She asked me to elaborate, saying that I didn't sound convinced that I was okay. I said "well, I wasn't expecting it since I wasn't supposed to be able to have children. I'm fine with it." 

I guess she wanted me to be jumping for joy and walking about with balloons and banners announcing my thrill over my unexpected miracle pregnancy. I was okay with being pregnant (other than the non-stop nausea) but the rest of my life was a mess. I had a plethora of untreated psychological problems and nowhere to turn, and I hated my job.

After my son was born, my marriage started to fall apart. My now ex-husband and I were polar opposites, and both of our families were invasive and emotionally unsupportive. He's an Aspie and I had undiagnosed bipolar disorder type 2, borderline personality disorder, and obsessive-compulsive disorder. We were oil and water as temperaments went. As time went on, we became verbally abusive to each other and eventually started getting into fistfights. There was no saving the marriage.

We got divorced when our son was four. We started getting along better as platonic friends once we were no longer living together. Since that time we have on occasion had a roommate situation due to financial necessity, but I've always been glad enough for that to end. We're family now and I hope will be so till the end.

Carpe Diem Field of Flowers: Drooping Sunflower

Image by Manfred Richter from Pixabay

Like a sunflower

Grown too heavy for its stalk

My weary head droops

~Cie~

Update: The previous image by A. Hull has been replaced by this more appropriate image by Manfred Richter.

Carpe Diem Summer Challenge 2019: Shadow

Photographer unknown

I

blue autumn skies

folded into mountains

purple shadow

blue autumn skies

stretching endless before me

skies blue like your eyes

folded into mountains

a felled giant lies sleeping

dreaming of the past

purple shadow

falls over eyes which can't cry

I have seen too much

Jane & Cie

II

such a hot day

my shadow needs to cool down

under the willow

such a hot day

sun beats down unrelenting

upon troubled earth

my shadow needs to cool down

it steals away and leaves me

muscles wracked with pain

under the willow

I find trouble waiting there

in the form of thought

Kyoshi & Cie

Note:

The "sleigh" of the first Troiku was created by Jane Reichhold (1937 - 2016). The "sleigh" of the second Troiku was created by Kyoshi Takahama (1874 - 1958). I wrangled all the horses.

I have chronic, widespread, low-grade pain from fibromyalgia and am constantly hot and easily fatigued due to my various endocrine problems. The summer is not my friend.

Grover and Clem aren't bothered by this weather, seeing as Grover is a ghost and Clem is a mutant Cactus Man, or maybe a Man Cactus.

Visit the Artist

Visit the Artist

Visit Grover and Clem and follow the Grover Hotel renovations at the Good Stuff from Grover blog!

NaPoWriMo 2019: Day 9: Just Another Day Again

Image by Sophie Janotta from Pixabay

Awake

Breakfast

Cook

Drive

Eat

Feed

Groceries

Hair

Imagine

Joke

Know

Learn

Mend

Nosh

Opine

Pay

Quest

Read

Sleep

Try

Utilize

Vent

Work

Xeric

Yawn

Zzzz

~Cie~

Note:

The NaPoWriMo prompt asked for a poem involving a list, and I took it literally and made a List Poem.

Xeric is a word meaning a state of dehydration, containing very little moisture. With my endocrine problems, dry skin is a real problem. The areas that had the worst problems with acne in my youth are now prone to flaking and redness. 

OctPoWriMo 2018: Day 22: A Palindrome for my Pancreas

Copyright Darksouls1

An artistic depiction of my pancreas

Betrayal in honesty

No loyalty offered

Deception not really

Not dishonesty

Without grace

Though there was duplicity

There wasn't mercy

You weren't exactly lying

You have not forgiveness

Forgiveness not have you

Lying exactly weren't you

Mercy wasn't there

Duplicity was there though

Grace without

Dishonesty not

Really not deception

Offered no loyalty

Honesty in betrayal

~Cie~

Note:

Pardon my brutal honesty, but my endocrine system is a fucking trash fire. My thyroid decided to immolate itself when I was sixteen. My ovaries became cystic, shitty little bastards. My periods were from hell. I developed endometriosis. I don't know when I started developing fibroids, but I have a uterus full of the damn things, and it's coming out at the end of the year. 

At least with the thyroid, I just have to take pills, although sometimes the dose has to be adjusted down because they can jack up my blood pressure and pulse rate. My thyroid may still have some of its own function, but it's completely abnormal.

Then there's my pancreas.

My pancreas waited until I was 49 to decide to fuck me over.

At first, I took pills, but then they stopped working sufficiently. Besides, I don't like having to carry around a spare pair of pants, and the less said about that, the better.

Then I had to start injecting long-acting insulin (Levemir).

Now I inject the long-acting insulin at noon and midnight and the rapid-acting insulin before meals.

"It's soooo much fun having a zombie pancreas," declared the queen of sarcasm.

By the way, diabetes cannot be cured, so don't tell me about how if I just drink a gallon of vinegar at every full moon while pouring ice cubes down my pants and sprinkling pepper in my hair I will be cured of diabetes.

In rare cases, type 2 diabetes goes into remission. This is not the same thing as being cured. Like cancer, a person with diabetes in remission is always more vulnerable to a recurrence of the disease than a person who has never had diabetes.

Further, I would like to see the word "diabetes" stricken from the medical lexicon and replaced with "hypopancreatism," which is a much more accurate term.

Diabetes is an ancient Greek term which translates loosely to "evil pissing" because of the increased urination that is part and parcel of the hell that is this stupid disease. Besides, it's a loaded term. People love to say it with a sneer as if those who end up with it "brought it on themselves" by "eating too much sugar.'

The cause of hypopancreatism is having a genetic trigger for the disease. A person who does not have the genetic trigger will never get the disease no matter how much sugar they consume.

People living with food insecurity are more vulnerable to activating the genetic trigger for the disease than people who have a reliable supply of nutritious food. However, the disease can strike anyone with the genetic trigger, regardless of their physique or social standing. Age increases the likelihood of developing type 2 hypopancreatism.

So, I am not calling the disease by its ancient Greek name anymore, although I do think that "evil pissing" is a pretty cool term. I would like to see the stigma attached to the condition eradicated.

And now, I need to go inject my wonderful basal insulin.

People who don't have the condition think that having to poke oneself with needles is the worst part of the disease. It really isn't. Often I don't even feel the needle. If I hit a tender spot, I experience minor pain. No big whoop. 

What I hate the most is the way the disease curtails my independence.

And that is why I leave this with a big FUCK YOU to my zombie pancreas and my crap endocrine system as a whole. I sometimes wonder what my life could have been like if I hadn't been easily fatigued and depressed for most of it and accused of being lazy every step of the way.

Senryu: Stark Reality

Image by Raivn_70

With my health problems

 My time on earth may be more

 Brief than I expected

~Cie~

Notes:

Brevity is the beauty of the Senryu.

The Cheese Grates It: 30 Days of Haiga 2017 Day 30 + OctPoWriMo 2017 Day 13: Suicide Ideation

Original background image:

Hannah Hoch, 1930

Words and text manipulation by The Real Cie

Notes:

With this image, I am caught up with 30 Days of Haiga. Too bad I can't use it for Inktober, which I am severely behind on, but that requires actually drawing something. I didn't draw (or paint) this.

The image references living with a mood disorder which includes suicide ideation. I've said it before, but it bears repeating, please respect me enough to know that, as a person of 52 years old and having at least average intelligence (even though I sometimes think I'm dumber than a box of rocks) who has lived with mental illness for her entire life, I know very well what meds are, what counseling is, and what an emergency room is. If I went to the ER every time I had a suicidal thought, I'd have to live there. I don't want to live there. 

When people tell me I should "think about seeing a counselor" or I should "consider getting on meds," it's pretty much the same as telling me that I should "consider seeing a doctor" because my blood sugar is elevated. Yes, I have diabetes. Insulin and metformin have worked pretty well for me, but sometimes, depending on what food is available and circumstances not entirely in my control, I may still have elevated (or diminished) blood sugar readings. As a veteran diabetic, I know the score with my blood sugar.

As a veteran of the mental illness wars, I also know the score. However, people tend to treat those with mental illness as if we are stupid children who don't know our own minds and bodies.

My life contains certain aspects that would probably depress a person who didn't have a screwed-up brain like mine which likes to exaggerate every emotion I feel. I work full time but don't have enough money to buy adequate food, which is crappy any time but has an added element of crappiness when you're diabetic. I "make too much money" to qualify for aid programs. When I started making "enough money," my Medicaid got cut off. I'm still behind on all the payments I fell behind on when I was underemployed after losing my job back in March. Like I said, GOOD FUCKING TIMES!

It seems that I no sooner catch up a little than something else comes along to run me over like a Semi barreling down a one lane road.

Last night I was thinking to myself "why don't I just do it? Nothing ever gets any better."

This thought wasn't one of the hyperbolic ones where I imagine flinging myself into a canyon a la Wile E. Coyote. I had some pretty realistic ideas on how to top myself. These are actually always in the back of my mind because I will utilize them toot sweet if I am ever diagnosed with dementia. I am not putting myself or my son through that shit, no way, no how.

Some folks will say "but the Conventional Wisdom when you're having suicidal thoughts is to go to Emergency Services."

As a veteran of the Mental Illness Wars, I can tell you that there's a myriad of reasons why that's the last thing many of us would do, one of them being the fact that I don't have the fucking time to be on a three-day psych hold. Guess what I wouldn't be making while I was in the psych ward arguing with a bunch of by the book types about the fact that SSRI's make me worse rather than better. That's right, a paycheck! I'm not stupid and I'm actually not delusional. Cold, hard logic dictates that I need money more than I need to seek help that isn't going to help me anyway.

The Haiga references the fact that on one hand I care very deeply and hurt very deeply. On the other hand, I've had so much pain in my life that I'm pretty well numb a great deal of the time. My heart feels like it's been shot full of Novocain which is wearing off. I hurt so much that I don't feel much anymore, and that hurts.

There's my story. I don't expect anyone to necessarily know how it feels, but I do expect respect for my experiences. 

No one would ever tell me to "stop being so hypothyroid," although, sadly, I'm sure a lot of people would be happy to tell me about the latest quack miracle cure, such as rubbing myself in black salt while standing on my head and drinking liquid Vaseline. It doesn't happen as much with hypothyroidism, but with diabetes, this is certainly something that happens quite often.

The point being, no-one would ever tell me to stop being so hypothyroid or even stop being diabetic (although they might tell me how I could cure my diabetes.) However, people think nothing of telling me and others like me to "just stop that stinkin' thinkin'," "just get on some meds," "maybe you need to go to church," "mental illness is caused by demons, wrong thoughts, bad karma," or one of my favorites, "stop looking for attention." 

I've also gotta love the people who post things like "how can anyone be a Negative Nellie when God has made such a beautiful world for us to live in? I just don't understand Teh Negativ Peepul!"

I used to feel really hurt and defensive when I saw such posts. At this point, I feel that these people are ignorant and lack empathy. Not everyone is fortunate enough to be wired to Always Look On The Bright Side Of Life. Even when I'm happy I'm always somewhat sad. I know that makes very little sense to anyone who hasn't experienced it, but it does not make me any less worthy of having a decent life than someone who is always Ms. Pollyanna Sunshine.

So, this is my last Haiga/Haibun for this year's 30 Days of Haiga. I can't say I hope you enjoyed reading it, but I do hope you might have learned something.

~The Cheese Hath Grated It~