Saturday, April 28, 2012


I finally broke it off with Catfish.

The first thing I did was count all the people I consider to be in my "top friend level" -- 18.  Eighteen!  People whose hearts I carry around with me, whose hearts I know carry mine (to paraphrase e.e. cummings).  People I'm actually somehow regularly in touch with.

Of course, 99% of them don't live in the Cleveland area (this is an estimate), but right now that doesn't matter.  I reached out to many of them and receiving even a few simple words back makes me soar.

I am so lucky.  And my family.  Even my extended family.  My mom and my aunts and my grandmas and my cousins make it impossible for me to feel alone.  Sisterhood!

When I was talking about the inevitable breakup with one of my grandmas, she told me many wise things, one of which echos in my mind: "It will be good."

It will be.

He would've stayed in our relationship as it was indefinitely.  I got too stressed by it.  I have never felt so loved, so I don't understand how he could let me go.  I think a lot of it is his money and not feeling able to support me, and some of it is his having been burned by divorce.

It all started with a house.  A regular at the restaurant offered to rent me a house for super-cheap while he went to Florida for a few months and then returned to finish renovating it.  I told Catfish, and no, he didn't say "no" like I felt he did.  But he said too many doubtful things and I dropped the issue.  I spent a month in sickening anxiety before I figured out I was anxious because I knew we had gone as far as we were going to get, at least in the foreseeable future.

A few nights after the breakup he called me to tell me his sister returned from Cancun with meningitis.  She is out of the woods, but they almost lost her.  I texted him afterwards to tell him that just the way we talked, I know I have a friend for life in him.  He texted back, "Til death do us part."

Screw you Catfish for the phrasing, but I believe it.

I know it's for the best.  I was too stressed out to love-him love him anymore.  Now I feel like I can love him better.  "Higher than soul can hope or mind can hide," to quote e.e. cummings.

Then I went to Planned Parenthood to get a pap and a clean STD bill.  I got checked for STDs long ago inside our relationship and I know I'm clean.  Catfish is one of the most loyal people I know.  But I need to know my status for sure so I can eventually move on.

I also got an HIV test.  I mention this because I know they are hard to get.  People should get them anyway.  It takes 20 minutes.  I got one because HIV is one of my mind's favorite health anxieties and getting tested is the only way to shut it up.  And my mind chooses health anxiety above all other anxieties, even during a breakup.  It's concrete.  Breakup is pudding splattered on the kitchen floor.

And the nurse gave me my form to take to the desk and my method of birth control was "Abstinence."

Screw you nurse.

"It will be good."

Friday, April 20, 2012

A Vulva Update

Hello!  I haven't posted since February.  Here is my update.

I've started working part-time for the company my dad works for.  It involves sitting.  So far it is okay.  Long days aren't great but it varies depending on other circumstances.  I've tried a kneeling chair and I think it helps some.  Puts more weight directly on my hips.

I got to visit the steel plant as part of my company introduction.  It was so cool.  I got to watch them burn through the steel with giant torches and make perfect rings.  It's my new dream job.

I am still waiting tables.  It's a good job for the vulva, but I'm tired of talking to so many people all the time.  I wish we could do charades.

I'm trying to gain weight.  I don't eat when stressed anyhow, and I'm apparently always stressed.  Add to it Wellbutrin, which suppresses appetite, and I am too thin.  I'm not really aware of it until I step on the scale, which I don't have at home.  For a while I accuse the scales of needing calibration.  Then I put a 20 lbs weight on the scale at the gym and curse.  I'm truly not aware of losing weight.  My pants seem to fit the same.

Oh yeah.  I'm wearing pants, and it's okay most of the time.  I don't feel like talking about the pain right now, though.

Did you know a regular-size banana milkshake from Steak N Shake is 700 calories?  My psychiatrist says "drink milkshakes."  I say if they did to his body what they do to mine, he wouldn't think of it.  But I am drinking them anyway.  I am packing it in.  It is a short sacrifice.  After only a couple days I am thicker.

Which brings me to...I found a probiotic that kills my yeast cycle.  It's Saccharomyces boulardii, specifically by Jarrow Formulas.  I tried Florastor, which contains the same probiotic yeast only marketed with an air of exclusivity, but I didn't see much improvement.  After only a couple days on the Jarrow version, the evil yeast surrender to the good.  I will probably write a post about this later as I think it's an important development.

Catfish and I are hanging on by a thread.  I honestly don't know how (and maybe even why) we're still together.  Maybe we are deluded.  Maybe we like each other.  I can't tell anymore.  When things are good we see each other 3-4 times a week.  When things are bad we might spend a week apart, mad and doubtful.  This is not good for a couple who live 15 minutes away from each other.

Living away from each other after two years, it's old.  I am over it.  That's the main issue.  He says we have the kind of future I want, the kind where you actually build a life together, but I think that's what he wants in theory.  I think in reality he needs six years to get there, to get his head and his money straight, and I am exhausted.  I feel like I have no control over my life.

It doesn't help that my ovaries are at the wheel.  Dear lord.  I'm 32 and my mind sounds like this:
If you want to have babies when you’re thirty, then you probably want to be married when you’re twenty-eight. This is good news because if you marry very young you’re more likely to get divorced, but the statistics get much better if you wait until you’re twenty-five. For a healthy marriage, experts think people should be married two or three years before they consider having children. A reasonable expectation is to meet someone, date for a couple of years, and get engaged with almost a year’s time to pull off a wedding. So you need to meet the person at age twenty-four.
I never thought I would feel this way.

But here I am.  I know that if I had anything meaningful in my life, my relationship wouldn't be quite the issue it is.  It wouldn't take over.  But I can never relax.  I am endlessly anxious.  I have been since I was a baby.  It's hardwired.  It gives me a great memory, and I'm a good speller.

I have another reader story to post, but I will save that for this weekend.  My apologies to the wonderful woman who was willing to share her story.  I have been having computer and internet issues, and my little iPhone screen already feels antiquated!