on suffering
Interesting quandaries I have found myself in lately…but for once in my life–I know I am not the only one wondering how my body could turn against me so explicitly. I know there are other people out there suffering and celebrating anniversaries with some expectation of hope and change, and not the Obama kind but hope and change of a personal nature–eventually we all learn to endure–and sometimes enduring causing suffering and malaise and sometimes enduring makes one extremely resilient. I have become somewhat immune to a lot of the things people like to celebrate as life because they are not my reality by any stretch of the imagination or realization. I endure…and I have suffered along the way but that was honestly, by and large, my own choice. Mostly my choice because there seriously is nothing I can do for the fact that sex literally caused most of my aneurysms in one form or another. Well three of the major incidents were clearly tied to that…but I mean obviously at the end of the day you really cannot feel fucking guilty for having sex and yeah, more than once, and ending up with a really shredded internal system. I mean, honestly at this point in time I should be dead a few thousand times over–and Don is pretty healthy that way so goes a day EVERY once in a while and I am sometimes not feeling it for a few days into my period, usually–but it’s what makes him happy and I get a great time out of it and somewhere I read this–THIS you need to read.
So whatever is left of my bedraggled DNA I am trying to improve the condition of—I mean, honestly, I married the right man if I wanted to pull that kind of stunt. But wouldn’t the irony be sweet that the thing that caused my dissections was the thing that saved me a few more years than I should have been around? I know…It REALLY WOULD.
I want to post this in the group–how many of you dissected after having sex???–but I am almost afraid they would think something was wrong with me–or make some kind of judgment, oh really, do I REALLY care? Probably not.
Look for that one later–
EDIT###on, but one edit I neglected–I made a choice to suffer because in the back of my head I blame myself for the things–I think I really do, as crazy as that might sound. If not for just having sex, but for the mental space I enclosed myself within which caused the tear to have a good running place to start…
Oh I probably suck to admit the heartsandscars FB link goes to my email, but I haven’t ever activated JUST that profile–I might after I torch the one…but yeah, no, guys. I suck and I am sorry–I would almost post the link to who I am on FB–but I have managed to avoid all hate with a pretty limited social media presence. Hate me here, sure. I will just ignore you–but–I realized I never did the right thing there.
Sorry but you COULD always email me at heartsandscars@gmail and then, yeah, we’s talk, you might be vetted and ta-da. I am no longer a weird anonymous voice in the internet ether…this blog is mined from several sites I have written for, btw–livejournal and bme and just me…some deannadates didn’t make it here and I don’t know why by J did tell me he kept a copy but he is MIA. WHERE ARE YOU?!?!?!!?!?
