This is the rare additional posting for free this week. I will probably do many of these throughout the year, but I don’t want to set that into stone as a benefit because I know I won’t be consistent with it. So, free definitely gets the weekly newsletter…this is just a bonus one. I be having to vent or share scary things or do both at the same time. I will still share the more intimate parts of these struggles with paid memberships, so if you would like to honor my work by upgraded to paid, I thank you for your contribution. If not, that is okay, I will still drop occasional extras like this one and you still get the free weekly newsletter.
I am not supposed to be writing another one of these damn posts but I am in this weird ass season of, teetering between having my shit together and milliseconds away from tossing my shit…and the neighbor’s. Either their shit or themselves, period.
I feel good.
Then I don’t.
But if I were being honest with myself, I am only mostly pretending to feel good most days. A mask I wear for my children and those I haven’t met on the internet.
Nah, Tiffy can’t be broken today. Try again tomorrow. Maybe then you can feel the full weight of your emotions? Hmm?
No?
Didn’t think so.
I want to drown myself in comfort food. I no longer drink and that honestly feels like one of my best accomplishments.
But everything else? Fucking dumpster sauce.
Literally.
Okay, figuratively. But I am in a kinda dark-ish place, okay?
My health is freaking me out. The realization that my children only have and their father is sitting right in the middle of my chest.
Before I caught Covid two years ago I felt like I could handle these things better. Or maybe I just masked it better? I don’t know. Now? I can’t hardly handle anything. Every bit of sensation I feel within me is cause for concern. Not to mention the things that are actually concerning. Like having a fucking fluid filled sack just sitting in the middle of my fucking brain. Or having to have damn colonoscopy next week because my Mama decided to tell me last month that she had fucking precancerous polyps in her colon in her late twenties.
Have a mentioned she’s like…hold on, I’m 37 and she was 19 when she had me…so, carry the one, uh…
56 years old?!
Why she waits until now to tell me this shit is beyond me. But I tell that to my GI doc and he’s like, “let’s get you scheduled for a colonoscopy.” And I am scared shitless. I was doing okay until they called me this morning and was like, “aye, let me go over this pre-op and hospital registration for you.”
And it was unpleasant as fuck, y’all.
The questions, the asking if you have heart issues, kidney problems, allergic to meds, have a reaction to anesthesia…all of it just triggered my fucking anxiety even worse than before. I am a week out from this 30 minute procedure. Which could be a lie and it be like 3 hours. I don’t know. I have never done one.
Then I am called because I need to do a coposcopy or something (I don’t know what it’s called) on my cervix to check and see if there are any areas they need to biopsy for precancerous or cancerous cells. This happens next month. I’m drained beyond…everything.
I need a break. Like a break from being hit with all this shit.
Not a literal break, though I need one of those as well. I really do not know how to turn off the worry. Is there a button for this shit? Why don’t we come with buttons? We come with everything else and body parts we don’t need or understand, like the appendix and elbow skin. You know if you pinch elbow skin super hard, you don’t even feel it.
Wild.
Anyways, I will keep you updated with my progress on all of these tests. For free subscribers I will either the additional rare post or most likely put quick updates in the chat (be sure to sign up for chat below) or a quick update thread. For paid, I will probably share a whole lot more of what is going on. I need a place to unpark all of this. Yes, unpark. I don’t have it in me to sound “put together.” I am anything but.
I hope you all are doing well.
Sending love and lots of hugs.
I hope you get a figurative break from dealing with this shit, too. Sending my love and hugs to you. I hope some of the anxiety eases soon and hope there are some positive energizing things ahead of all this.
I’m not very good at words of comfort in English as it’s not my first language, so I’ll tell you ones from my language instead. I wish you health and I’m keeping you and your family in my heart. I hope things get better for you soon.