Fuck!

Fuck!

Fuck!

It's just as Alix Olson says, "Sometimes it's just Fuck [you!]

I am lying here wedged between a sleeping body a popple and my own brain and yet I feel so alone.

It's amazing how much Pain can make a person feel alone.

"I will tie us together and then everything they do to you they will have to do to me to make you not feel so alone."

I don't want to be going through this-but I know that I have to-It will hopefully be over soon so I can resume making snarky remarks, quick rebuttals, sassy comments and the like. My life is not over-but I definitely do not feel like myself.

I write things that I just do not think I would write. They aren't in MY voice-if I really have one to begin with. I just don't remember it sounding and looking so fuzzy. That's not me that's no what I usually sound like. I sound smarter usually. I sound like I care. I sound like I write with passion and a desire to change the world-not this fuzzy wishy washy bull shit. I write like something bigger than myself matters.

Right now the shooting pain through my uterus is what I feel. That's what I am writing from. That fucking pain that won't go away. It lingers in my back sweeping through my entire body. Mostly my feet-my pain always seems to land itself in my feet after hurting in the local sites of pain. It always seem to find a home embedded in the muscles of my feet-sometimes my shoulders. Then I can walk on my pain feel it anytime I go anywhere.

I dislike the niceties that come along with experiencing pain. No one knows what to do for it. There is nothing anyone can do. There is little I can do and even less that anyone else can do. Anything that makes me more comfortable I generally have to do for myself and it involves taking more drugs which, knock me out, or make me doped up to the point of entering the land of my subconcious, turning the heat up on my heatin pad, taking a bath, or sleeping. Back and foot rubs are the only thing I can't do very well that relieve some o the pain for a while. I appreciate the gesture I just feel bad when I have no concrete answers to give.

And that's the fuck part! There is nothing to be done until I can schedule my surgery. Until then I just pop the pills they tell me to, and work on my lamaze breathing techniques and try not to do anything to make it worse-which can't always be avoided either.

And I wish I could connect the pain to larger issues of racism, sexism, classism, and homophobia-but right now I can't. I can only feel only write from that space of only sort of caring about life but mostly care about it being over so I can get on with making those connections to other things. Things in my thesis project, things in my class projects, things in my daily life. But fuck! This is my daily life right now. This is it. Boiled down to the roots of being in the exact moment. I wouldn't mind boiling my internal organs right now get them hot enough they would stop cramping.

And I am going through this because I am a Woman right? Whatever that means. I have a Gynecologist working through a special women's health clinic performing my procedure looking at my lady parts and assessing them. This is all because I have reproductive organs I don't plan on producing anything with. If I don't plan on using them can I just lose them and get all of this shit over with? If I lose them am I no longer a woman-if I don't produce anything with my reproducing organs? I don't think I would mind losing that label if it meant losing the pain. I would give up that title-if I did would it make my parts (previously known as lady parts) hurt less? I would hope so.

Fuck!

I just want it over and done!

Sometimes it really is just Fuck!