I have been struggling with life. You guys know that... You read all of my mind's workings and tribulations. You sneak peaks into the difficulties I, unfortunately, continue to survive...
Well, this blog has gone from being about nursing school and nursing life, to one about my general life.
As such, and seeing as I don't deal with bedpans so much anymore, I have decided to rename the blog. I will now be Beauty from Ashes. [still BA, so that helps ;)]
Until next time, ladies and gents... I'll be online shopping for the foreseeable future.
***P.S.
I have attempted to change my address, but it seems to have already been taken and then also requested by another family. Long story, my address will continue to be bedpanalley.blogspot.com
Love,
BA
Saturday, November 25, 2017
Saturday, November 18, 2017
Lab Results
So, I went to the doctor... eh, I chose a nurse practitioner in the same group as my doctor because I wasn't quite ready to see my doctor (a dude) and explain my crap to a guy. So, I explained to her, and the student she had with her, a small part of my past, in very gentle wording. Mostly, I only told her that I have a history of trauma. She was so sweet and understanding!
She offered to let me wait for the pap smear, in case that was too triggering, because I told her that I was having flashbacks to my SANE exam. But I went ahead and did it, just to get it all over with, and asked her to talk to me like I'm a student. We had giggles through the exam as she explained it hilariously and was so kind and gentle. Seriously, this woman was absolutely amazing and I was absolutely put at ease and it was very therapeutic.
I also told her I needed to probably get my labs done to see if I got any diseases from the two ding-bats that couldn't keep certain members to themselves. I also asked that my results be put in an envelope and that I NOT be called if they were positive, until I could go to counseling and read over the results.
The whole staff was so understanding about it! I had to call the billing guy, but he was so sweet and easy going about it. I went back the next day, after they were in, and got the envelope and took it straight to my counselor.
I cried the entire way from the doctor's office to my counselor's office... I had been psyching myself up and having "symptoms" all week. I was just sure I was going to have positive results showing that I had diseases.
Well, my counselor saw the envelope in my hand and asked if those were it. I handed it over and she said "okay, let's just get this over with quick!" (She was very kind about it and just wanted me to not fret about it anymore.
So, she read over the results, had to interpret the lab results (because they kept them in medical terms instead of layman's terms (so silly, good thing I'm a nurse!). And she read it, disease by disease to me...
Every thing was negative. *huge sigh of relief*
Then I started crying again and couldn't stop. They were tears of relief, and gratitude, and my stress and lost sleep over the past 2.5 years were all in vain and I am so very grateful. I know that for many who are victims of assault and abuse, that is not the case. It fills me with rage and disgust that certain people go around spreading incurable diseases with little to no remorse and they spread such diseases via force.
Anyway, I digress.
Blessings guys,
BA
She offered to let me wait for the pap smear, in case that was too triggering, because I told her that I was having flashbacks to my SANE exam. But I went ahead and did it, just to get it all over with, and asked her to talk to me like I'm a student. We had giggles through the exam as she explained it hilariously and was so kind and gentle. Seriously, this woman was absolutely amazing and I was absolutely put at ease and it was very therapeutic.
I also told her I needed to probably get my labs done to see if I got any diseases from the two ding-bats that couldn't keep certain members to themselves. I also asked that my results be put in an envelope and that I NOT be called if they were positive, until I could go to counseling and read over the results.
The whole staff was so understanding about it! I had to call the billing guy, but he was so sweet and easy going about it. I went back the next day, after they were in, and got the envelope and took it straight to my counselor.
I cried the entire way from the doctor's office to my counselor's office... I had been psyching myself up and having "symptoms" all week. I was just sure I was going to have positive results showing that I had diseases.
Well, my counselor saw the envelope in my hand and asked if those were it. I handed it over and she said "okay, let's just get this over with quick!" (She was very kind about it and just wanted me to not fret about it anymore.
So, she read over the results, had to interpret the lab results (because they kept them in medical terms instead of layman's terms (so silly, good thing I'm a nurse!). And she read it, disease by disease to me...
Every thing was negative. *huge sigh of relief*
Then I started crying again and couldn't stop. They were tears of relief, and gratitude, and my stress and lost sleep over the past 2.5 years were all in vain and I am so very grateful. I know that for many who are victims of assault and abuse, that is not the case. It fills me with rage and disgust that certain people go around spreading incurable diseases with little to no remorse and they spread such diseases via force.
Anyway, I digress.
Blessings guys,
BA
Friday, November 10, 2017
Trial and Error
Ugh, the amount of high's and low's I experience per shift in L&D has given me a terrible case of whip lash. One shift goes great, while the very next night is absolute hell and I can't seem to do anything right.
Last night's shift was a crazy combination of both.
I admitted a patient who was there for an elective induction, but did not want any of the meds to get labor started...
Then I immediately got another pt who needed an epidural pronto and then her blood pressures bottomed out and she went from a 5 to a 10 and delivered in 1.5 hours.
About 3 hours after the delivery, as I was getting caught up on charting, my preceptor came to me and asked if I minded taking ice water into the delivered patient, and asking what they decided to name the baby since they had waited until after the birth to pick a name. I went in, asked what the name was and you know what? They named their baby after me! I was with them for a total of maybe 5 hours, missed her whole recovery because of my other pt, and they honored me by naming their baby after me. Yes, I happy cried and teared up in the room. I don't think I have ever been so honored by anyone, let alone someone that I barely knew.
I came out and sat down to chart when my other pt pressed her call light. I went in and she said she thought her water broke. Okay, so normally we are supposed to check them when that happens so that I could report to the doctor. Well, this particular doctor was planning to come in and check her and break her water about 30 minutes after when she SROM'd. So, I figured I would check her (as normal) and go let him know. Well, I got REAMED for that because apparently he likes to check his own patients when he is at the hospital. I had been told this at the beginning of my orientation, but I am still in the task-oriented phase of learning and I did what would normally be done.
I'm trying to let it roll off my shoulders and just learn for next time, but it's still frustrating to me that we bend over backwards for doctors, and yet they yell at us for something so small as a preference. Nobody was hurt, nothing bad happened, and it didn't change the course of treatment at all...
I will do it differently next time. I will do my best to remember the little nuances and remember every doctor's preferences as best I can... but I'm still going to complain about the way that we are chewed out for stupid shit every day, just because the doctor is having a bad day or likes some random things done a very specific way.
Deep breaths. He'll be mad at me for the next several weeks and I will have months of proving myself to him and the other doctors. I hate this part, but I am also the most motivated when I feel like people are expecting me to fail, so I guess we'll see how it goes. L-rd willing, I don't struggle too bad.
Last night's shift was a crazy combination of both.
I admitted a patient who was there for an elective induction, but did not want any of the meds to get labor started...
Then I immediately got another pt who needed an epidural pronto and then her blood pressures bottomed out and she went from a 5 to a 10 and delivered in 1.5 hours.
About 3 hours after the delivery, as I was getting caught up on charting, my preceptor came to me and asked if I minded taking ice water into the delivered patient, and asking what they decided to name the baby since they had waited until after the birth to pick a name. I went in, asked what the name was and you know what? They named their baby after me! I was with them for a total of maybe 5 hours, missed her whole recovery because of my other pt, and they honored me by naming their baby after me. Yes, I happy cried and teared up in the room. I don't think I have ever been so honored by anyone, let alone someone that I barely knew.
I came out and sat down to chart when my other pt pressed her call light. I went in and she said she thought her water broke. Okay, so normally we are supposed to check them when that happens so that I could report to the doctor. Well, this particular doctor was planning to come in and check her and break her water about 30 minutes after when she SROM'd. So, I figured I would check her (as normal) and go let him know. Well, I got REAMED for that because apparently he likes to check his own patients when he is at the hospital. I had been told this at the beginning of my orientation, but I am still in the task-oriented phase of learning and I did what would normally be done.
I'm trying to let it roll off my shoulders and just learn for next time, but it's still frustrating to me that we bend over backwards for doctors, and yet they yell at us for something so small as a preference. Nobody was hurt, nothing bad happened, and it didn't change the course of treatment at all...
I will do it differently next time. I will do my best to remember the little nuances and remember every doctor's preferences as best I can... but I'm still going to complain about the way that we are chewed out for stupid shit every day, just because the doctor is having a bad day or likes some random things done a very specific way.
Deep breaths. He'll be mad at me for the next several weeks and I will have months of proving myself to him and the other doctors. I hate this part, but I am also the most motivated when I feel like people are expecting me to fail, so I guess we'll see how it goes. L-rd willing, I don't struggle too bad.
Sunday, November 5, 2017
Bain of My Existence
I know it's stupid, but I despise weddings. Always have. I'll attend all of the funerals I'm invited to, or hear about, but weddings get automatic excuses and declines from me. I hate weddings.
With that said, Beauty from nursing school got engaged right before our pinning ceremony. It took them a long time, but her wedding was finally planned for the end of October (2017) and I just so happened to get invited... I straight up told her I probably wouldn't go. I have told her that since I've known her, so it's not like it was even a surprise. Still, she kept begging me to go.
I still regret going.
All through the ceremony I was holding back tears. The tears weren't because the wedding was beautiful, or because the bride and a billion other people were crying, or because of allergies. I was holding back tears thinking of my certainty that a wedding will not happen for me.
There is such a certainty and gravity to this understanding in my heart, I've had it since I was a little girl. I did not go to the father daughter dances. My dad and I spent time at his shop, where I kept busy with "girlier" things and dad taught Brother how to fix cars/trucks/everything under the sun.
Dad has social anxiety and probably a few other hinderances, which I don't blame him for, but they lead to an "un-normal" life for me. While my dad has always lived with my family, there is not much participation on his part. He didn't go to church, except maybe 3-5 times my whole childhood. We never expected to go to a restaurant for birthdays or special occasions because they made dad nervous and so the whole family would be stressed and not have fun. We stopped asking for participation from him, and didn't invite people over to the house, because we didn't want to make him uncomfortable.
So, from the time I was very young, maybe kindergarden or earlier, I've known that we just don't ask dad to do things that involve lots of people. Understanding that weddings involve lots of spotlight, lots of people, and a father-daughter dance, obviously this is not something that sounds plausible in my future...
As I sat in my counselor's office, sobbing uncontrollably (for other reasons that I'll explain later), I explained why I don't believe I will/can get married. I've blamed it on being undesirable, blemished from trauma, making new mistakes (again, I'll get to this), and a myriad of other reasons I've collected over the years. And I explained the wedding thing. I sat there and told her between, "I know it's stupid, and it's probably just jealousy, but I hate weddings."
I didn't look up, but I could feel the gentleness in her voice. "I don't hear jealousy in any of this. What I hear is a lot of hurt."
Now, this whole conversation started because she asked how the wedding went. This explaination of me keeping my eyes from leaking during the service previewed the terrible news that Best Friend and I went too far that night after the reception.
He and his roommate were invited because Beauty was Best Friend's neighbor in the dorms freshman year of college, and he's actually how I ended up meeting Beauty. We've all stayed in touch over the years, and Beauty just wants to have fun, so she invited tons of people to the wedding reception.
Now, I did drink that night, but not enough to black out. I was with it and remained free from stumbles or being too drunk. I couldn't have driven home, but if I had been given water and an hour, I could have driven home no problem.
"Why, then, did I wake up and not be able to remember anything?" I asked my counselor, in much different words.
After rehashing some of the events, I realized that Best Friend had started kissing me once I was back to his house after the reception. Many problems with that statement... 1) his roommate was supposed to drop me off at my house, but Best Friend had talked him into taking me back to their place because BF wanted to see if I would kiss him (after me telling him no ALL FUCKING NIGHT.) 2) I was not privy to this decision and never consulted to see what I wanted to do.
So, back at BF's house, I laid on the couch, nearly falling asleep. At some point, he came over and started to kiss me. About 2-3 weeks ago, I put an end to us kissing. I told him I was not ready for a relationship and that I needed us to go back to just being friends. Obviously that worked really fucking well because he definitely got the message loud and clear after me telling him this about 29474957 over the course of our "friendship". (That was all solid sarcasm.) I shouldn't have had to tell him that many times and he never should have tried to kiss me after me telling him no so many times in one night and over the past several weeks/years. Maybe I need to work on being meaner.
So, we ended up kissing, and he picked me up from the couch and carried me to his bed. Now, he had done this before, I told him a few times that I don't lay in boy's beds and he knows my stories of abuse. He told me he understands, and yet it happened a couple times. Chalk it up to me being naive and believing people when I shouldn't. Man, I'm an idiot.
He kissed down my stomach, which he's done before because he thinks it's funny when I push his face away and yell at him for doing that. Except, this time he was drunk and ended up touching me where he shouldn't. It was at this point, the the rest of my memories are non-existent or 1-2 seconds long. I remember hyperventilating, shoving his hand away, and crying for about 20-30 minutes. He freaked out and went to the far edge of his bed as I laid in the fetal position sobbing. He asked what he could do and what happened and I couldn't talk. I just turned away and cried. He tried to hug me and I pushed away. Finally, after 20-30 minutes, I settled enough for him to ask me what I wanted to do. I told him I wanted to go watch t.v. and sleep. We went back out to the couch and I laid down under the blanket. I don't remember much more of the night.
I do know, however, that in the morning, I knew that we had slept together. I don't know how it started, I don't think that he raped me, but my counselor says that I dissociated because of the first incident of him touching me. This whole story came out in the first 7 minutes of me sitting down in her office and she uncovered the story via questions answered by my 1-2 syllable answers or shaking/nodding my head. I have so much shame, and disgust, and despair over this stupid night.
She tells me it's not my fault because my body was just protecting me the only way it has learned how to over the course of my abuse.
Still, I can't help but wonder how I will ever explain this act of indiscretion to someone, if a guy ever decided that he wanted to date me seriously. I had just gotten to the point where I could think about dating after 2 years of being free from exboyfriend and exfiance. After this, where it was kind of my choice, I don't know how I will recover and survive, let alone try to date and explain this to someone.
My counselor had me think about what I would tell someone else, if I were in the outside shoes and my friend were telling me their life story that was like mine. Of course I would tell that person that it wasn't their fault, that BF had taken them (me) to the police station to report the other 2 dip-shits and he should have known after the way I freaked out that I needed to not be touched. Still, I don't understand how this all happened.
I praise the L-rd for my counselor, because she spoke such healing and comfort into my life. But I still struggle with the knowledge and memories I have.
This wasn't supposed to be my life!
My counselor says that G-d was still with me through it all. But why couldn't He keep me with it enough to be able to stop it so that I didn't sin? Why wouldn't he prevent the whole mess from coming up? Why would He not just let me get dropped off at my house like I was supposed to so that I could go to sleep? Why was it that I have to be allowed to be in a position to have 1 case of trauma, let alone the whole shit-show that was my life in 2015? Then, on top of all of that, He allows this to happen because my brain automatically dissociated?!? Where was He in all of that mess? Was he standing there watching? Was He sad? Why didn't He step in? Why did He let me go through this? Why is this supposed to be stuff that I have to struggle through? What did I do but try to follow His Word and be kind and gracious? I know I make mistakes, but why this?
I keep thinking that I'll wake up and realize the past few years, and all of these mistakes and memories are just a bad nightmare. But I keep waking up and I'm forced to survive another painful day. As soon as life starts to get tolerable again, another traumatic thing happens and I have to figure out how to try to survive past that. It's not fair. Not even a little fair.
I don't understand how some people go their whole lives and never experience trauma, and some people have shit dumped on them their whole lives. I don't understand it at all!!! How do I get off this shit-list?
Yesterday, I had another talk with Best Friend. Instead of gently suggesting that we take time so that I can have some space. I flat out told him that I need to not talk to him for weeks. He kept sending me relationship snapchats this past week, after that night. Even after a 3 hour drive where I spilled my heart out to him about how badly it hurt me and how much I hated that we slept together. He has apologized profusely for the night, but he hasn't gotten the gravity of the situation because sex is a big deal to him, but it's not a part of his faith and not a part of any abuse that he has sustained. People just don't get it. Sex is not fun for me. It's been nothing but trauma. There is a very real chance that it will never be a healthy part of my life because of the continued abuse that I have sustained. For him, it was something "special" to share with someone he "liked" or maybe thinks he "loved". For me, it was a huge set-back in my 2 year recovery and now another shameful part of my past I will have to explain.
I told BF that him sending the relationship crap "hurt my heart" and that I didn't want to see it. I told him that about 17 times. He would apologize, but continue to send another "cute" one that he found later. He just doesn't get it. If he got it, then we wouldn't be in this fucking situation to begin with because he would have fucking stopped when I freaked out and I probably wouldn't have freaked out because he wouldn't have touched me that way in the first damn place!
I wasn't angry at him until yesterday and today. At counseling, my counselor told me it was okay for me to be angry with him. At that point, I was still fully angry at only myself. Now I'm just pissed.
I was so pissed on Friday (Thursday was counseling), that I finally scheduled my appointment to go see the nurse practitioner. I'm scared that the tests will find something. I'm terrified. However, I'm so sick of being scared and not knowing. So, I'm having the results sealed in an envelope, and my counselor agreed that I could read them at my appointment with her.
Guys, please pray that my body if free of disease from the first 2 assholes, and also from Best Friend. I hate that I have to worry about this. I hate that I had to take yet another Plan B pill. I hate my life and the fact that I keep having to fucking survive another day, every day.
I'm so over it all. I just want to be done.
With that said, Beauty from nursing school got engaged right before our pinning ceremony. It took them a long time, but her wedding was finally planned for the end of October (2017) and I just so happened to get invited... I straight up told her I probably wouldn't go. I have told her that since I've known her, so it's not like it was even a surprise. Still, she kept begging me to go.
I still regret going.
All through the ceremony I was holding back tears. The tears weren't because the wedding was beautiful, or because the bride and a billion other people were crying, or because of allergies. I was holding back tears thinking of my certainty that a wedding will not happen for me.
There is such a certainty and gravity to this understanding in my heart, I've had it since I was a little girl. I did not go to the father daughter dances. My dad and I spent time at his shop, where I kept busy with "girlier" things and dad taught Brother how to fix cars/trucks/everything under the sun.
Dad has social anxiety and probably a few other hinderances, which I don't blame him for, but they lead to an "un-normal" life for me. While my dad has always lived with my family, there is not much participation on his part. He didn't go to church, except maybe 3-5 times my whole childhood. We never expected to go to a restaurant for birthdays or special occasions because they made dad nervous and so the whole family would be stressed and not have fun. We stopped asking for participation from him, and didn't invite people over to the house, because we didn't want to make him uncomfortable.
So, from the time I was very young, maybe kindergarden or earlier, I've known that we just don't ask dad to do things that involve lots of people. Understanding that weddings involve lots of spotlight, lots of people, and a father-daughter dance, obviously this is not something that sounds plausible in my future...
As I sat in my counselor's office, sobbing uncontrollably (for other reasons that I'll explain later), I explained why I don't believe I will/can get married. I've blamed it on being undesirable, blemished from trauma, making new mistakes (again, I'll get to this), and a myriad of other reasons I've collected over the years. And I explained the wedding thing. I sat there and told her between, "I know it's stupid, and it's probably just jealousy, but I hate weddings."
I didn't look up, but I could feel the gentleness in her voice. "I don't hear jealousy in any of this. What I hear is a lot of hurt."
Now, this whole conversation started because she asked how the wedding went. This explaination of me keeping my eyes from leaking during the service previewed the terrible news that Best Friend and I went too far that night after the reception.
He and his roommate were invited because Beauty was Best Friend's neighbor in the dorms freshman year of college, and he's actually how I ended up meeting Beauty. We've all stayed in touch over the years, and Beauty just wants to have fun, so she invited tons of people to the wedding reception.
Now, I did drink that night, but not enough to black out. I was with it and remained free from stumbles or being too drunk. I couldn't have driven home, but if I had been given water and an hour, I could have driven home no problem.
"Why, then, did I wake up and not be able to remember anything?" I asked my counselor, in much different words.
After rehashing some of the events, I realized that Best Friend had started kissing me once I was back to his house after the reception. Many problems with that statement... 1) his roommate was supposed to drop me off at my house, but Best Friend had talked him into taking me back to their place because BF wanted to see if I would kiss him (after me telling him no ALL FUCKING NIGHT.) 2) I was not privy to this decision and never consulted to see what I wanted to do.
So, back at BF's house, I laid on the couch, nearly falling asleep. At some point, he came over and started to kiss me. About 2-3 weeks ago, I put an end to us kissing. I told him I was not ready for a relationship and that I needed us to go back to just being friends. Obviously that worked really fucking well because he definitely got the message loud and clear after me telling him this about 29474957 over the course of our "friendship". (That was all solid sarcasm.) I shouldn't have had to tell him that many times and he never should have tried to kiss me after me telling him no so many times in one night and over the past several weeks/years. Maybe I need to work on being meaner.
So, we ended up kissing, and he picked me up from the couch and carried me to his bed. Now, he had done this before, I told him a few times that I don't lay in boy's beds and he knows my stories of abuse. He told me he understands, and yet it happened a couple times. Chalk it up to me being naive and believing people when I shouldn't. Man, I'm an idiot.
He kissed down my stomach, which he's done before because he thinks it's funny when I push his face away and yell at him for doing that. Except, this time he was drunk and ended up touching me where he shouldn't. It was at this point, the the rest of my memories are non-existent or 1-2 seconds long. I remember hyperventilating, shoving his hand away, and crying for about 20-30 minutes. He freaked out and went to the far edge of his bed as I laid in the fetal position sobbing. He asked what he could do and what happened and I couldn't talk. I just turned away and cried. He tried to hug me and I pushed away. Finally, after 20-30 minutes, I settled enough for him to ask me what I wanted to do. I told him I wanted to go watch t.v. and sleep. We went back out to the couch and I laid down under the blanket. I don't remember much more of the night.
I do know, however, that in the morning, I knew that we had slept together. I don't know how it started, I don't think that he raped me, but my counselor says that I dissociated because of the first incident of him touching me. This whole story came out in the first 7 minutes of me sitting down in her office and she uncovered the story via questions answered by my 1-2 syllable answers or shaking/nodding my head. I have so much shame, and disgust, and despair over this stupid night.
She tells me it's not my fault because my body was just protecting me the only way it has learned how to over the course of my abuse.
Still, I can't help but wonder how I will ever explain this act of indiscretion to someone, if a guy ever decided that he wanted to date me seriously. I had just gotten to the point where I could think about dating after 2 years of being free from exboyfriend and exfiance. After this, where it was kind of my choice, I don't know how I will recover and survive, let alone try to date and explain this to someone.
My counselor had me think about what I would tell someone else, if I were in the outside shoes and my friend were telling me their life story that was like mine. Of course I would tell that person that it wasn't their fault, that BF had taken them (me) to the police station to report the other 2 dip-shits and he should have known after the way I freaked out that I needed to not be touched. Still, I don't understand how this all happened.
I praise the L-rd for my counselor, because she spoke such healing and comfort into my life. But I still struggle with the knowledge and memories I have.
This wasn't supposed to be my life!
My counselor says that G-d was still with me through it all. But why couldn't He keep me with it enough to be able to stop it so that I didn't sin? Why wouldn't he prevent the whole mess from coming up? Why would He not just let me get dropped off at my house like I was supposed to so that I could go to sleep? Why was it that I have to be allowed to be in a position to have 1 case of trauma, let alone the whole shit-show that was my life in 2015? Then, on top of all of that, He allows this to happen because my brain automatically dissociated?!? Where was He in all of that mess? Was he standing there watching? Was He sad? Why didn't He step in? Why did He let me go through this? Why is this supposed to be stuff that I have to struggle through? What did I do but try to follow His Word and be kind and gracious? I know I make mistakes, but why this?
I keep thinking that I'll wake up and realize the past few years, and all of these mistakes and memories are just a bad nightmare. But I keep waking up and I'm forced to survive another painful day. As soon as life starts to get tolerable again, another traumatic thing happens and I have to figure out how to try to survive past that. It's not fair. Not even a little fair.
I don't understand how some people go their whole lives and never experience trauma, and some people have shit dumped on them their whole lives. I don't understand it at all!!! How do I get off this shit-list?
Yesterday, I had another talk with Best Friend. Instead of gently suggesting that we take time so that I can have some space. I flat out told him that I need to not talk to him for weeks. He kept sending me relationship snapchats this past week, after that night. Even after a 3 hour drive where I spilled my heart out to him about how badly it hurt me and how much I hated that we slept together. He has apologized profusely for the night, but he hasn't gotten the gravity of the situation because sex is a big deal to him, but it's not a part of his faith and not a part of any abuse that he has sustained. People just don't get it. Sex is not fun for me. It's been nothing but trauma. There is a very real chance that it will never be a healthy part of my life because of the continued abuse that I have sustained. For him, it was something "special" to share with someone he "liked" or maybe thinks he "loved". For me, it was a huge set-back in my 2 year recovery and now another shameful part of my past I will have to explain.
I told BF that him sending the relationship crap "hurt my heart" and that I didn't want to see it. I told him that about 17 times. He would apologize, but continue to send another "cute" one that he found later. He just doesn't get it. If he got it, then we wouldn't be in this fucking situation to begin with because he would have fucking stopped when I freaked out and I probably wouldn't have freaked out because he wouldn't have touched me that way in the first damn place!
I wasn't angry at him until yesterday and today. At counseling, my counselor told me it was okay for me to be angry with him. At that point, I was still fully angry at only myself. Now I'm just pissed.
I was so pissed on Friday (Thursday was counseling), that I finally scheduled my appointment to go see the nurse practitioner. I'm scared that the tests will find something. I'm terrified. However, I'm so sick of being scared and not knowing. So, I'm having the results sealed in an envelope, and my counselor agreed that I could read them at my appointment with her.
Guys, please pray that my body if free of disease from the first 2 assholes, and also from Best Friend. I hate that I have to worry about this. I hate that I had to take yet another Plan B pill. I hate my life and the fact that I keep having to fucking survive another day, every day.
I'm so over it all. I just want to be done.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)