I started using an app called Raise the Bar. One of my goals is to be active outside at least a measly ten times a month for a productively invigorating period of time, so I took a cold run/walk at 4ish:
As I got to the point I started worrying that I’d have to climb over these rocks to make it to the beach and sunset around the corner. I really didn’t feel like climbing on the rocks. But I told myself to stop worrying about it — stop trying to make a plan, stop preparing myself for disappointment, stop preparing myself to turn around too soon — and just keep walking and not think about it. Because it’s not a very big deal to just turn around when it becomes fucking clear you want to turn around. I don’t need to constantly assess and imagine what’s ahead.
I was going to try to cam tonight but I think I should go to sleep earlier-ish instead. I keep feeling like I’m coming down with a cold.
Our skies are usually clearer, but colder here in PT.
I’ve been feeling a little regretful about renewing the lease on our Seattle apartment, thinking we could have our separate work spaces closer together here in town for a lower price. Spending this much time alone isn’t turning out to be as magical and productive for me as I imagined it could be.
Then again, I’m dealing with a number of issues. Like today I may have a hangover from a buzzy manic spell & adrenaline rush yesterday. The good news is I finally have a real appointment with a mental health professional for next week, which is a huge step in the right direction.
When asked if I have a preference for a male or female doctor, it was really hard to not say “male”. But I bit my tongue and just said, “no” (but that I’d prefer somebody who is sex positive and progressive). I’m pretty apprehensive about talking to women because I think they’re more judgmental of people like me. And feeling (mis)judged could seriously exacerbate my problems right now.
So I’m scheduled to see a woman next week. I think she was probably just the doc with the earliest available appointment.
It’s okay, though. I have no real reason to be prejudiced against her and am just going to expect the best. And if it isn’t the best, I’ll be one step closer to finding someone better, and may still get some of the help/relief I need regardless. She’s from Michigan (so’s my wife, and I actually tend to love people from those parts of the country) and looks really nice in her picture, which of course is a fucked-up way to judge somebody but is making it easier for me to write pleasant stories in my head about how well we’ll get along and how understanding and kind and helpful and patient and smart and tolerant she’ll be.
She has a ministerial Lutheran look, which, in my book, is a good thing that puts me at ease.
Delia and (hard to see but was epic IRL) Mt. Baker
Bad camera phone pic of fawn I thought was going to come right up to us earlier.
Naked by one of my favorite old apple trees that’s pretty much done producing.
Had a great day . . . except for the profound anxiety that keeps hitting me. I wish I’d have had more of it yesterday so that I’d have gotten in under the wire for the “insurance” open enrollment thing (not watching tv or listening to the radio or looking at facebook or any of those other things that overwhelm me with a billion things I can’t control means I’m a *wee* bit out of touch these days). Due to a weird variety of factors I managed to get us a plan anyway, but now am paranoid about . . . a weird variety of factors.
Going to the doctor tomorrow for my yearly exam and to possibly find out if any of my middle-aged hypochondriac fears are real. And possibly to get back on the pill, mostly as hormone therapy rather than pregnancy-prevention.
There were fun things and sexy things too but I can’t do them justice right now.
I have a much easier time tackling things I don’t care about than things that are really important to me.
The only way I may be able to approach and finish something is not to amp myself up even more about how awesome it is/can be, but to tell myself to not give such big fucks about it.
It doesn’t matter.
It’s not that important. It’s devoid of meaning. Then maybe I can do it. Or just make myself really really depressed about the absurd futility of it all.
There’s probably a better way but I’m too spiritually immature to utilize it.
Sweet jesus I wish my job really were just spreading my legs and getting easily fucked all day long.
On our deliciously muddy lunchtime walk:
I love becoming more in touch with the seasons, in specific ways like witnessing what’s flowering when and for how long. I want to take pictures and make videos with/in all of it! Like the tall rhododendrons.
I keep wanting to do ghostly black and white sets with the rhodies in the woods, but also ones with colors. Every year. HASN’T HAPPENED. Which is one of the less pleasant parts of being in touch with the seasons somewhat when paired with anxiety; every year — every season — I feel the loss of all of these beautiful time-sensitive opportunities.
We didn’t shoot something cool while the rhodies were flowering. We didn’t whip Alex Talvez on video while the nettles were young. We didn’t shoot buckets of berry-picking pictures while they were ripe.
I know it’s a beautiful challenge, though, to FUCKING LET GO and not be so afraid of how much abundance there is that we can’t possibly experience and CAPTURE all of it. To not be afraid of death, every single year, day, season, hour, life cycle. I’m not the fucking Noah of porn who needs to trap every awesome thing with our cameras so they may live forever.
And when I am seventy? It will not be too late to stand naked under a fantastically gangly rhododendron while Delia takes my picture. It will be exactly the right time. It is always the right time for something.
At the beginning of our walk I decided to close my eyes and go blindly forward for two blocks. It’s a straight, flat road. No traffic. No obstacles. Delia with me to guide me with her voice.
WOW – that was so needlessly hard for me! And so instructive to observe my anxiety in a completely safe setting, and begin to practice NOT being scared.
To try to make my body posture bold and fearless and healthy (instead of cringing and stoop-shouldered and protective). To try to walk faster instead of trepidatiously. To try not to think I was about to be bonked on the head when shadows from trees WAY FAR ABOVE MY HEAD darkened my eyelids. To try not to care how ridiculous I looked.
Someday I could run a mile with my eyes closed inside the sound of my feet hitting the ground and my blood impacting my ears and the smell of courageous sweat and wake up to the brilliant reminder that the world is even more amazing when I stop trying to look at it forever. It will be here even when I’m not looking. Or when I am just plain NOT.
Beauty exists and endures without my hypervigilance and hoarding.
The world has no use for my fear.
I will probably forget writing/feeling this in 36 hours or less.
I quit taking birth control pills.
I’m experiencing cervical ectropion (not sure if I’m phrasing that correctly):
Cervical ectropion is a normal phenomenon, especially in the ovulatory phase in younger women, during pregnancy, and in women taking the oral contraceptive pill, which increases the total estrogen level in the body. It also may be a congenital problem by persistence of the squamocolumnar junction which is normally present prior to birth. Additionally, it can be caused by scarring of the external os during vaginal intercourse.
It could just be from too much hard fucking or tampons or whatever, but seems most likely it’s from the pill / hormonal birth control, which I take to avoid life-killing PMS.
This is probably the worst time for me to tempt my chemistry into self-destruction (winter, doing some serious overeating and of bad foods, thicker & more out of shape than usual, etc.), but I want a healthy cervix. And to not pay a shit-ton of money to have doctors inspect it with expensive high-powered magnifying tools and/or to cauterize it or take a big chunk out of it. I’ve had colposcopies and teeny biopsies (in the days when I had insurance) but avoided / refused a cone biopsy or LEEP all these years while almost all of my friends have had shitty shitty experiences with doctors jumping into those procedures. And all of my pap tests since then have been normal including this recent one so I’m personally not super-worried about cancer, but I’d like for my cervix to not throw up ANY red flags (excuse unintended period joke).
Plus it’s interesting to me to see what will happen; this is making me take more of an interest in looking at and touching my cervix myself (NOT A SEXUAL ORGAN OR EXPERIENCE FOR ME SO PLEASE DON’T THRUST ANY HORNY-FOR-CERVIX FANTASIES AT ME – huge crampy turn-off and freaks me out). It’s exciting to think I can make my cervix change just by stopping eating these pills.
I don’t want to write a book today explaining how (I think) all of this works (or try to find links to places I’ve blogged about it before); I’m just marking the occasion of possibly descending into hell two to six weeks from now if I don’t do a fast 180 in my treatment of my body. Healthy endocrine systems mean better mental health (especially if you’re already wired for CRAZY, as I am)!
Oh. And my boobs and butt and thighs are going to get smaller. But let’s try not to cry about it, Trixie, or to connect it all to getting older and fearing that when you thought you never ever would.