#my ovaries are exhausted ok? | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

valmare · 1 year

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Congrats on 100 followers !!! So excited for you!

Could I get “I think I might be in some kind of love with you.” with Tom? We all know I’m an Ice gal

💜💜💜

Who doesn't love Ice? Here's your fluffy Kazanksy, he's just too much fun to write. Enjoy and thanks so much for your follow and your ask, babe!

Wingman

“Bradley! Bradley, come on—you like peanut butter and jelly, remember?”

The edge of the divided alphabet plate is mere inches from nose diving off the table, threatening a mess of sticky Peter Pan and strawberry jelly on what appears to be bright-and-shiny, freshly waxed linoleum.

Locked in a staring contest with the curlicue of a five-year-old your best friend Nick Bradshaw has entrusted you with, your heart is hammering harder than you ever remember in your short lifespan.

Feet frozen in place, your hand is extended as if somehow you’ve managed to become some kind of Jedi. Attempting to force-control Bradley Bradshaw into cooperation failed, the burp of skin on plastic is nearly deafening as his fat little finger skips across the table, flicking at the separated plate you’d set in front of him moments ago.

“B!” The high pitch of your voice matches the heart jumping behind your ribs–never in your adult life would you have dreamed to ever be so worried about a sandwich, “please—eat your lunch, ok? Your daddy says you like PB and J,”

Time seems to stand still. Exhausted, blood pumping hard through your ears, you feel like you’ve wrestled a bull the entire afternoon. Or maybe a Tasmanian devil. Bradley has been nothing but a high-strung ball of energy since you sent Nick and Carole off for their afternoon, insisting that things would be fine.

In hindsight, maybe you should’ve heeded Carole’s warning of letting Bradley play outside a few hours before lunch. “He gets so cooped up and off the rails if you take him out and let him burn through some of that after-nap energy,” the gall of the woman to actually laugh, “He’s super into Indiana Jones, and you’ll be a great sub in my absence as the damsel in distress.”

But Bradley hadn’t wanted to play outside today. He’d wanted to play dinosaurs in his room with his little green army men, and together you’d both had a blast decimating Sarge and his unit with Tom the T-Rex. Blithely unaware of the gorgeous day outside and its 90 degree sunshine, A/C had been an appreciated alternative. At the time.

But now? You were going to either kill Nick’s kid, or die of exhaustion—whichever came first.

Bradley had started acting up about an hour ago, when he refused to clean up the toys in his room. An all-out hissy fit had transpired as Tom the T-Rex had been violently thrown out the bedroom door, hitting the wall with a thunk.

Feeling sorry for Tom, and staring with popped brows of surprise as Bradley screamed in his bedroom, very quickly your ovaries had shrank into near non-existence at the idea of someday willing choosing this for yourself.

“Pizza!” He shrieks, arms flapping in tantrum like some kind of pterodactyl, which ironically matches the dinosaur on the t-shirt underneath his overalls, “I want pizza!” His little high-pitched boy voice is ringing off the walls of the military housing unit as his bottom lip begins to quiver.

Crocodile tears well up in his soft brown eyes, angry color flaring on his chubby cheeks as he gives the plate one final shove, glaring at it like it has committed a grave offense.

Flinching as the plastic rattles to the linoleum, you puff out a dramatic sigh and scrub your face with your be-jeweled fingers, the cool rings doing little to tame the heat fanning across the bridge of your nose. Your heart has stopped throbbing in worry over the thoroughly dead sandwich, pulse returning to some kind of normal between your ears.

Gnawing at your bottom lip in defeat, you eyeball the splattered peanut butter and jelly and brea. It’s flattened and thoroughly stuck to the floor as Bradley leans over the side of his booster to look at his handiwork. Blinking at it, he looks back to you without even missing a beat, before grabbing the Flintstone cup of milk and taking a long swig.

“Pizza,” you mutter with a roll of your eyes, crossing to the head of the table. “You win, kiddo. Pizza it is.” You’ve never felt more defeat in your life, which is really saying something, because the taste of second place is something you’re all too familiar with being friends with Nick Bradshaw and his motley crew of stick jockey aviators.

Grabbing your purse, you retrieve your wallet and march to the phone mounted on the wall. Spinning the numbers, you order a pizza for yourself and the Bradshaw demon now absolutely adorably singing a song he must’ve picked up from his father, and hung up after the deadbeat clerk monotoned a goodbye.

Plunking down in a chair, your elbows hit the table and cradle your head as you sigh out a breath from the base of your gut. A headache is starting to bloom behind your eyes, and sweat is beading down the length of your spine, drawing your t-shirt and jeans to your skin in the most unpleasant way possible.

Toes curling against the linoleum in an effort to release tension, Bradley begins singing his ABCs in the cutest way possible.

You jump when the phone releases a shrill shriek across the kitchen. For a minute your mind jogs, trying to remember if Carole had asked you to take any calls.

Nick had told you to go ahead and use the phone for anything you may need—slipping out of the chair, you slide across the floor in your socks and pluck it off the receiver, cradling it between your clavicle and ear.

“Bradshaw house,” you sing into the line. Bradley is pushing himself out from the table, scrambling out of the booster to race up the stairs, shrieking for his stuffed animal dog that you have since learned is named Bongo. Covering the receiver, you call for Bradley to please come back downstairs before returning to the call, “How can I help?”

“Sounds like you’re having fun, sweetheart.”

Heart slamming to an all-stop in your chest, you inhale a sharp breath. A surprised squeaks managed past your strangled vocal chords, and heat jumping into your blood is immediate.

Replaying his words through your mind, you imagine him leaning through the doorway of the barracks, phone in hand, dragging the cord along as he talks to you.

Tom Kazanksy has always been a pacer when it comes to talking on the phone. It’s something you learned from Nick himself, who has told you numerous times that Iceman can’t keep it together when he’s on a call. Especially with you.

Goose was practically ass-over-tea kettle about this, Ice glaring at him behind his aviators as you’d given him a goofy grin, picturing the idea as nothing short of hilarious.

The man as cold as ice, tethered by a phone cord every time he picked up the receiver. It was laughable. Actually hilarious. Ice was many things—poised, cool, calculative in ways that were nearly frightening. He seemed far too collected to be the kind that walks when he’s on the phone—that’s your thing.

Fidgeting is a quirk of yours that simultaneously amuses and drives Ice up the wall, which seems counterproductive.

But like many things about Iceman Kazansky, there’s a lot that doesn’t make sense.

Keeping you on your toes is just one of the many things that makes your relationship with Kazansky interesting. He’s the ying to your yang, the cool to your hot. You’re wound tighter than a frickin’ Rolex, and Tom is as smooth as butter in every way that counts.

He’s excelling in his career, making the right decisions, drawing the right attention—and you’re stalled out working at the local garage, tinkering on whatever junk manages to hit the pavement.

Quiet and reserved, Ice is the epitome of charm and elegance. You’re basically the wild card in life’s chaotic game of Uno, forever handing your boyfriend a draw 25 of every crazy thing your life may hand him.

Honestly, how the two of you make it work is unbelievable—you’ve been dating for eight months. You were sure any day Ice would wake up from the hellish nightmare that is your crazy life and leave you, but he'd only seemed locked in for good.

Fairly certain that meeting your parents in NOLA would be the straw that broke the camel’s back, you were dead surprised when Ice had told you he actually loved your family. Your father had done nothing but interrogate the man like a dog with a bone about his career, his plans—all the kills his fancy rank boasted.

And mama? Oh, boy. She’d fussed over him to no end, insisting his skinny ass needed plumped up before your return at Christmas.

“What are they feeding him in California, sweetie? Look at that waist! I could snap him in two. Make sure you feed ‘im good—the way to a man’s heart is through his gut, after all.”

Your mother didn’t understand that you didn’t live together, weren’t cooking for Ice, and could take no responsibility for his eating habits. She’d just pooh-pooh’d your entire protest away, promising to send you both home with grocery money and a few recipes for your box.

You’d stuck them to the fridge with a magnet, Ice just chuckling at your mumble that your parents were the most embarrassing life-givers on the entire planet.

Arms snaked around your wrist, chin on your shoulder, he’d rocked you back and forth on his feet while smiling at the recipes now stuck on the front of your Frigidaire.

“I like your parents, my love. They’re….sweet?” The word was so foreign from him, it had made you snort.

“Overbearing and nosy, but thanks for playing,” you’d shook your head and lazily hung your hands from his thick forearms crossing over your chest, “I can’t wait to meet your folks, Ice. Your mom seems so amazing.”

“You’re talking to my mom?”

Laughing, “Of course I am! You gave me their number, silly.”

“I gave you my parents’ number for when I’m there, princess. I didn’t expect you to cultivate a relationship with Admiral Kazanksy’s wife.” Pressing a heavy kiss to your jaw, the blonde stubble on his cheek was divine as it brushed against the apple of yours.

Giggling in his embrace, your nose scrunches up as you let your head fall back against his shoulder. “Careful there, Tommy. Mrs. Admiral Kazansky kinda has a nice ring to it.”

His eyes had never sparkled so richly as they had that day in your kitchen, catching the insinuation you’d thrown in your little universe. Ice is everything you are not in the way that he is as unreadable as a blank page, whereas you’re easy reading, like phonebook. It goes with his graceful stoicism, his quiet demeanor.

Which is maybe why the two of you work. He balances you out, reigns you in when necessary but loves your unbridled fire. You add color to the otherwise black-and-white pages of Tom Kazanksy’s mission dossier of life, and while you haven’t exactly figured out if that’s a plus or not—Goose, Mav, Slider and everyone else that knows him assures you that you’re the best thing that’s ever stumbled, literally, into Kazanksy’s universe.

You smile at the muffle of voices hanging at the back of the call. Tom is obviously not alone, which amuses you to no end.

“Oh yeah, y’know how it goes, Kazansky—couldn’t be better. Goose’s kid is just the best child a babysitter could ever ask for.” The drama is not lost in your voice.

Tom barks out a laugh, and you imagine he’s shaking his head at you. “I can imagine. Bradley is a little shit when he wants to be.” He says something to someone beyond the call before returning to the phone, “So, about tomorrow. I wanted to ask you—”

Curling the phone cord around your index finger, you check over your shoulder as a shriek erupts from the hallway. Whipping about, Bradley shoots down the stairs, suddenly naked from the waist down and missing the overalls his mother had dressed him in that morning.

Eyes popping wide, he is screaming with a Superman action figure and his father’s dog tags hanging from his neck, face twisted in a horror that you’ve only ever seen portrayed on television.

Somehow, Bradley’s hair and shirt is wet. Which can only mean—

“Oh my gosh! Bradley! Bradley, come back—” dropping the phone and lunging for the toddler, you half remember your boyfriend is on the other end of the call, and right as Bradley races into the kitchen you grab the receiver. Scrambling to right the phone back to your ear, “Ice, I really have–” but he’s laughing. At you.

“This isn’t funny, Tom!”

“It’s fucking hilarious, baby,” his voice is that smooth rasp that makes you shiver as he clucks a chuckle into the phone, “but hold tight. I’ll be over there in fifteen minutes,” he’s calling for someone to tell him the time before he returns. “Think you can keep the gosling alive long enough for me to get there?”

Your eyes are shooting daggers at the wall as you sneer at nothing. “I hate you sometimes,”

Hissing out a noise that sounds like it would be paired with a wince, his mocking, “Ouch, princess,” doesn’t match the lilt in the back of his words. “Don’t burn down the house, I’ll be right there. Hang tight, grease monkey.” He’s been calling you grease monkey since knowing you, and it’s become more of a pet name than anything.

Unraveling, grateful help is imminent, you’re too stubborn to tell him that. Ice is good at everything, and something about watching Goose’s offspring niggles the thought that you want to be better at this than him in the back of your head. Biting the inside of your cheek, you hum suspiciously over the phone.

“Just get over here, Kazansky.” Dropping the phone to the receiver, you turn to rush into the living space in search of Bradley.

You swear to God you can hear him laughing behind the door fifteen minutes later when he knocks, letting himself into the kitchen from the screen door.

Sunglasses on, dressed informally in a t-shirt and tight Wranglers, he’s got a baseball glove under his arm that he drops to the table when Bradley races to the front door, arms splayed wide upon sight.

“Iceman!” Bradley launches himself at Ice’s legs, wrapping chunky little arms around the man’s thighs, “I didn’t know you were coming!”

He’s bouncing as Ice bends to lift him under his arms to his hip, messing the kid’s hair with his fingers.

“You gonna play ball with me, Ice?”

Ice’s smile is genuine as the kid pops off his callsign, no sweat. “You know it, kiddo. Gotta get my favorite shortstop ready for the Phillies, right?”

Bradley’s face couldn’t be any brighter as you lean against the threshold of the living room, arms crossed over your chest as you watch Ice interact with Goose’s son.

“How have you been, Bradley?”

“Gooooood,” the boy giggles and draws out the double-o of the word like children do, breaking off into another giggle as Ice wiggles his fingers into his soft stomach, “can we go play?”

“Yeah, bud. Go grab your mit and we’ll toss a few,” setting Bradley to his feet, he sends the boy off with a light swat to his rear, Bradley beelining past you to whip up the stairs. He's chanting Ice’s name with childlike joy nearly bubbling out of him.

Ice considers the state of the sandwich you still haven’t cleaned up off the floor before looking to you with a raised brow. The corner of his mouth ticks up into a light smirk as he slips the aviators off, hanging them from the collar of his t-shirt as his eyes move about the living space, easily.

You can see he’s calculating, and something shoots down your spine to ricochet off your uterus.

Good god he’s handsome. Sexy as all get out with close-cropped blonde hair, eyes bright enough to melt steel. He can level you with nothing but a smile, make you forget your name the way he kisses you. You might as well be dead when he says your name.

Thinking through all the times he's called you his, wondering if you’ll ever get tired of it, heat in your blood blossoms to your face. You suddenly warmer than you thought possible in the A/C of Goose’s house.

Crossing the kitchen in a few long strides, he reaches for you. Hand sliding home at your hip as you smile at him, he bridges the daylight hanging between you and shuffles your hips flush with his. Smiling at you crookedly, his eyes track yours. Reaching for a curl that’s fallen from your clip, he tucks it behind your ear.

“Help has arrived, princess,” he teases you, low. “Holding up okay?” His voice is quiet, smoky. Dangerous.

Every one of his words hits you right in that little spot between your legs, which has not stopped aching since you laid eyes on this man eight months ago.

“Thanks for coming over,” you coo, lips parting into a little smile. “I’m alright, just tired. Should’ve known I’d need my wingman–you should’ve been here for lunch,” nodding past his shoulder to the mess still living beside Bradley’s booster, your bottom lip rolls inward sheepishly. “Peter Pan and Smuckers crashed and burned.” Your nose scrunches up, teasingly. “I needed reinforcements.”

He snorts a little, brow lifted knowingly. “So I gathered.”

“You’re such a jerk,” you try not to chuckle, but that look he’s giving you makes it impossible.

He shrugs, flippantly. “Yeah, but you like that kind of thing,“ fingers skipping down the full curve of your cheek, they anchor at your chin and tip you head back just so. “I’m here now, love.”

Somehow your eyes just know to drop to half mast as your heart kicks up a few beats against your ribs. His head angles in that kissable way, and before you can even remember to breathe, his mouth brushes against yours tentatively, seeking out a kiss. Grabbing the front of his shirt, fingers fisting into the material, you edge him a little closer until he seals the deal, kissing you long and hard and slow.

His other thick hand is moving to rest at the curve of your neck and shoulder, thumb delicately brushing against the column of your throat as he moans a little into your mouth. Gasping a little, you suck at his bottom lip, tongue carefully slipping between his teeth to lathe a little against his own. Suddenly the room is spinning as he’s bracing an arm against the threshold of the kitchen, backing you against the sheetrock as his hand moves to cup the curve of your cheek.

“Ice,” you whine between his mouth moving against yours. Every nerve is on fire, and you can suddenly taste and feel nothing but his heat as it crashes against your chest. “I—”

“Mmm,” his fingers curl into the flesh of your hip, harder if possible, and he presses his weight forward with his hips, against yours, pinning you against the sheetrock even farther. “It’s okay,” he enunciates with rough exhale, “Bradley is fine—”

Knees basically gelatin and as if on cue, you hear Bradley’s little feet upstairs. He’s talking to Tom the T-rex, looking for his glove before he cries for you to come upstairs. It’s painful, brushing Tom’s hand away from where it’s tracing the soft skin beneath your navel under your shirt, but you have to.

Groaning in irritation before breaking your kiss with Tom, your gaze moves to the ceiling. Tom’s eyes do as well, and he sighs a little in defeat before putting his hands up, stepping back to allow you to slide away, towards the stairs.

“I’m coming, Bradley,” you call up the stairs, your voice not nearly as strong as you’d like it to be. “I’m sorry, baby, I—” His smile is slow as he nods in understanding, and he smooths his hand over his mouth, you not missing the flush on his face.

You rake your hair back as you’re about to take the stairs two at a time, but you stop when Ice’s big hand wraps around your wrist, stopping you. Looking to his hand briefly, your eyes track up to find him, your face painted with the silent question of “What’s wrong?” that you don’t even need to ask.

“You know I love you, right?”

Heart skyrocketing into the back of your throat before it melts back between your ribs, the corner of your mouth lifts in a soft smile as you shrug a shoulder. Winking at him, you step forward onto the stairs, hand falling from his grasp as Ice moves to track you up the stairs. Over your shoulder, you smile at him and nod—you absolutely know you’re in love with Tom Kazanksy, it isn’t even a question.

“And I think I might be in some kind of love with you too, Kazansky. Maybe just a little.” Your fingers pinch to indicate a little amount, nose scrunched up in that way you always do that makes him roll his eyes and shake his head. You round the corner of the open staircase, but backtrack a few steps to peek around the corner.

“But in case you forget, Iceman—I love you too.”

#100 followers #100 followers celebration #blurb requests #top gun fanfic #top gun maverick fanfic #top gun maverick fanfiction #top gun fanfiction #controlled chaos squad #call sign meerkat #tom iceman kazansky #iceman top gun #answered asks #tom iceman kazanksy x reader #tom kazanksy x reader #iceman x reader #iceman x you

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sleepy-wyvern · 1 year

Text

Eddie Munson x fem!Reader Menstrual Comfort

Image drawn by me, specifically for this fic ♡ if you like this fic feel free to send a request or let me know if you want more

Synopsis; Eddie breaks into your apartment to help you with your period symptoms. Fluffy and wholesome, no sexual interaction.

Reminder: Eddie wants you to part take in self care ♡

You look at the time on your phone and groan. 1pm and you’re still exhausted, awoken by the gnawing pain in your lower stomach. You pout as you grasp at the bed sheets, pulling them up to your chin, cuddling into them.

You hated being unwell and taking any time off of any kind of productivity, but your body ached to stay in bed today. Blinking in the morning sun rays through the curtains, you mumble profanities. In a sleepy haze you notice a glass of water with ice cubes still floating on the surface. Sitting up quickly you wonder if someone broke into your apartment.

“Relax sleepyhead” a deep soothing voice chimes from your bedroom door frame “cursing out the sun now?” He smiles playfully.

“And my ovaries” you comment, picking up the glass of water gently into your hands. It was so fresh and cold that the water condensed on the outside, dripping a little onto your bed sheets. You didn’t care though, your parched mouth and chapped lips eagerly sipping.

Eddie makes his way over from your door frame, holding your favorite pink octopus mug. He wears his normal Hellfire tee with dark ripped jeans, decked out with his accessories. His metal rings make a quiet dink against the ceramic mug as he readjusts his grip upon the steaming beverage, stepping carefully as to not spill it.

“How did you get in?” You ask sitting back against your pillow. Since the last time Eddie broke in you were making sure to close and lock the windows, lest any thieves get the same idea.

“Smashed in the window in your door and reached in to unlock it” you rolled your eyes but you welcomed his humor.

“I found the spare key by the plant on the porch” he admitted, holding the mug down to you.

"Gotta find a new hiding place for it" you replying hold out your hands carefully accepting the beverage. The mug was filled with steaming yellow liquid and had a peppery sweet aroma.

“What’s this?” You ask.

“You texted me in the middle of the night you were having bad camps” he says sitting on the edge of the bed, watching you with warm brown eyes that have an edge of concern. “I came by to make sure you were ok since I didn’t hear from you this morning.”

He moves a hand to your leg, squeezing it slightly and the gesture sent tingles through your body. He went all this way here to make sure you were okay?

You take a sip of the hot liquid, letting the warmth spread down your body. Ginger with lemons, you note.

“How did you know that it was good for cramps…?” You ask and Eddie looks at the ground shyly.

“I, uh, saw a bunch of tea in your cupboards” he says embarrassed. “I googled what’s good for cramps” he mumbles afterwards, looking away.

You can’t help but smile at his effort, this man worked so damn hard to make you happy. You wondered how in fact he could be real despite sitting right in front of you. You’re interrupted by the curdling pain of your stomach and excuse yourself.

“I, uh, bathroom” you mumble shyly.

He nods and reluctantly moves his hand off your leg, moving out of the way so you could stand. You immediately miss the warmth of his body, but quickly make your way to the bathroom so you could be back sooner.

Once you’re back you notice your bed is made but with the sheets pulled back for you to hop back into. Not only that but there's a glass of orange juice on the table, with a container of Midol and a breakfast sandwich from your favorite take out place. You waste no time sitting on the bed and taking a bite out of your breakfast. You wonder where Eddie went and the sound of water running in the tub answers your question.

He re-emerges not long after you hear the water stop running “I hope you like it, I stopped by for food the way here. I wasn’t sure what you wanted, so I got you what you had the last time we went.”

You think back to the lovely Saturday morning date you had with him, the same day he made it in through a window the first time. Him pulling open the curtains while you groaned at him, not wanting to get up. The sky was blue and the sun was shining, he coaxed you up and out of bed with promises of a yummy breakfast. The spring morning smelled of fresh melting snow as you sat together outside the restaurant. You refused to admit it to him but you enjoyed it, just watching people walk by on the cobblestone path while you ate in each others presence. Birds sang and people chattered while you laughed to yourselves about whatever goofy thing Eddie had come up with. Afterwards you ventured to the old record store Eddie loved, picking out a new one for you both to listen to.

You smile finishing up the last of your meal, snapping back to reality. “I love it” you reassure him “dare I ask what you were up to in the bathroom?” you smile.

He shrugs leaning against the door frame “I ran you a bath if you felt up to it” he folds his arms clearly nervous looking down, making your heart pound. “If not I mean I’ll take one” he laughs to diffuse his own nerves, playing his goofy voice up “bubbles and everything” he regains his courage to look at you. He was always shy to admit how much you meant to him, you thought it was quite adorable.

You go to his side giving him a large hug catching him off guard. Quickly though he hugs you back, running his thumb along your waist.

“Yeah, yeah” he murmurs, not wanting to accept praise.

“Thank you, really” you smile.

“Go take your bath before I do” he winks and you shake your head, smacking his butt before moving to your wardrobe.

You pick out fresh new pajamas and underwear and venture to the bathroom, pleased to see Eddie has lit a candle even. You leave the door unlocked and open just a crack but he sits on the floor outside to give you privacy.

Stripping down you let yourself sink into the bubble filled tub. The hot water swirls around your body, soothing the aches and cramps. You sigh, relaxing back taking in the scent of warm vanilla.

“You didn’t have to do all this for me” you speak, unsure if he’s still there.

“I know but you deserve it.” He pauses for a moment “I don’t like seeing you in pain” he whispers. You imagine him fumbling nervously with his rings as he usually does when he talks about his feelings, an action you've grown accustomed to and found endearing.

You smile, splashing the water slightly as you shift your weight.

“The world doesn’t deserve you” you murmur low enough for him to not hear.

“Did you want me to wash your hair?” He asks and you accept.

He walks in cracking his knuckles “hairdresser Eddie on duty, welcome to your spa day” he says while kneeling down by the tub to shampoo your hair.

“What experience do you have as a hairdresser, bathing a dog?” You ask while he lathers your hair, sending relaxing sensations over your body.

He laughs “I did actually. A neighbor's dog. This is a muuuch much better experience" his deep voice purrs over the word much to your delight.

“I can see why you’re a cat person” you say while he rinses the suds out of your hair.

“You know me, I’m more of a demon person” he scoops up some bubbles from the other end of the tub and attempts to make two horns on top of his hair with a matching beard.

You giggle, forgetting your bodily discomfort for even a moment while taking in the rest of the bubble bath. He graciously scrubs your back with a wash cloth and you joke around and splash until the water turns colder. You shoo him out so you can get dressed and dry your hair, feeling refreshed and recharged.

Returning to your bedroom, you’re pleased to see him waiting there in bed for you. On the bed also lies a hot water bottle looking full. Gladly you join him, snuggling close to his chest under the comfort of warm clean bed sheets.

“Your toes are freezing!” He stammers as you try to warm them against his.

“This is revenge for the hand incident” you think back to him using your breasts to warm his hands on a cold day, chasing you around your apartment with an evil grin. Begrudgingly he obliges this time, pulling you closer to him.

“You really didn’t have to do all this you know” you whisper as he turns the tv on, flipping to Netflix turning on your show. He holds the hot water bottle up to your lower stomach, nuzzling his face into your shoulder lovingly.

“I know” he kisses the top of your head “but I did because I want to and you deserve it. You deserve the whole world.”

#eddie x you #eddie x reader #eddie stranger things #eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x fem!reader #comfort fic #fan fiction #fan fictions #fan fic #fan fics #menstrual comfort morning em

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lovejosephquinn · 1 year

Note

A fic where reader and joe have just brought their new baby home or smth? Love your work <33

Omg 😫 my ovaries ache at the thought, the perfect blurb

OK I'LL DO IT

Thank you for your request, your patience and your support, angel x

After being discharged from the hospital after a night's stay once you'd given birth to your perfect baby boy, Joe sauntered through the hospital with the travel seat to bring him home in. His eyes full of light and his smile so big, he'd not stopped beaming since the moment his son had entered the world. Joe knocked on the door lightly. "Come in." he wasted no time in opening the door and closing it behind him, you were just finishing dressing your new-born in a sweet outfit Joe's mum had gifted the two of you to come home in.

"I'm here to collect the loves of my life." Joe came up behind you and peered round kiss your cheek, his gaze then falling upon his boy, the big brown eyes that stared back up at him lovingly caused your head to fall back to his shoulder, as his head rested on yours.

"I can't believe we made this, just look at him." Joe said as he let out an endearing and fulfilled exhale.

"He's as gorgeous as his daddy, just look at those eyes." Joe's arms wrapped tighter around you.

"And he's as adorable and as damn beautiful as his mummy."

You would both agree to disagree, you knew that, but his eyes resembled that of Joe's so much, like chocolate buttons.

The first night at home was difficult for you, as if you weren't already over exhausted, you both saw every hour when your baby woke up screaming, you got up for the most part, alert at every sound he gurgled or cried for attention.

Settling him back down after going to do a quick diaper change, he still stirred and you heard Joe clamber out of bed, peaking one eye open you watched him take a hold of him in his arms, smiling down and stroking his cheek, your heart did somersaults watching how much of a natural Joe was.

Joe slipped out of the bedroom, going downstairs into the living room and sat down carefully as he rocked his son in his arm, leaning down to kiss his forehead lightly, then patting a pillow down he placed him onto it and tucked the blanket placed on the arm of the sofa around him. You came downstairs quietly and watched from the lit doorway as Joe was sat cross legged opposite your baby with his back to you, singing the exact lullaby he'd told you his mum used to sing to him when he was little.

You cleared your throat and Joe turned around, still singing, his finger clutched tightly by his hand, the sound of his daddy's voice was soothing, and it settled him to sleep straight away.

Keeping your voices down, you edged closer from the doorway.

"What a perfect image, Joey."

"What do you mean love?"

"You, the most perfect husband and now the best daddy for our little bundle of joy, I count my lucky stars every day for you."

Joe sighed; his eyes heavy from lack of sleep but so content in the moment you were sharing as a three. His other hand reached out to you, and you stood next to him, intertwining your fingers with his as Joe pulled it towards his lips to plant a kiss onto your hand whilst his eyes bore into yours.

"I love you so much my darling." he whispered.

You knew you'd been excited from the moment you found out you were pregnant, but if you'd have known this is what life were like with the view in front of you, you'd have done it a hell of a lot sooner.

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vaulted-ceiling-painted-sky · 1 year

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I'm making a major life change. I'm detransitioning (for medical reasons, so please don't cancel me).

I don't talk about this sort of thing much on my blog because I prefer to live a relatively private life separate from social media. However, I still wanted to disclose some things to my followers. I was on testosterone for over 5 years. I got the prescription after 8 months of counseling for gender dysphoria, followed by a consultation with a psychiatrist and an endocrinologist. This all started back in 2016 and I began taking T in 2017.

The symptoms that were considered part of my gender dysphoria diagnosis were mostly related to body dysmorphia. Since puberty, I felt like my body shape was completely wrong and that certain parts didn't belong to me (no real explanation, just physical discomfort). I had an eating disorder for many years that I never fully recovered from until the T improved my metabolism enough and I could start eating intuitively again. My other symptoms were... pretty much just being a weird girl and a social misfit. I had learned to mask it ok but social expectations just felt overwhelming and exhausting.

T was amazing for the first few years. My period stopped after a month, I lost fat and put on muscle, I could eat a full meal again, my body felt right in a way it never had before. I even got a new job where I felt like a fit in way better as a guy. I was extremely well informed on what changes to expect and when, and I was always careful with my health, getting regular blood tests and checking in with my doctors.

The side effects started to accumulate and worsen however. My body temperature ran high and I got overheated quite easily, which affected my sleep among other things. After about a year I started to get intense abdominal cramps with increasing frequency. Several years of this and I eventually had to get a hysterectomy (I kept my ovaries) and the cramping finally stopped. I had already had top surgery at this point. That was an entire ordeal on its own. I needed to have an emergency revision a week after the original surgery when I got a hematoma in the left side of my chest. I had to drive myself to the emergency room (my boyfriend was at work) where they opened the stitches and tried to manually drain it. Blood was gushing out of my side. I had to be rushed into the OR to have it fixed. After about 4 years on T, I began to have constant pain in certain organs due to atrophy. Medication only stopped it from getting worse, but the pain was still there and sex was out of the question. This can take a toll on one's mental health and relationship. The side effect that really scared me though was the heart problems. After nearly 5 years on T, I started having episodes of fast, pounding, irregular heartbeats. They were uncorrelated with anxiety, and heartburn medication did nothing. I stopped T for a few weeks and the episodes decreased. I started T again and had the worst one yet, where I was actually afraid for my life. I stopped again and my heart issues resolved in a month or two. My last dose was in October 2022.

Since then my body has been reverting to its natural appearance. I just look more feminine and read as female in spite of a flat chest and deep voice. It happened quickly for me. I decided to file paperwork for a court order name and gender change last week. I think I'll be back to publicly presenting as a woman in a few months. This has been a lot for me to process but I'm cautiously optimistic. And I'm so, so grateful that I have a loving, open-minded boyfriend and a supportive family. I don't know what I would do without them.

Why did I post this? Well, I thought sharing my experience might be useful for some of you. If you're on T or getting gender-related surgeries, or if someone you care about is, it's helpful to know about some of the things that can happen. My experiences differed significantly in some ways from the standard information you get on this stuff. Side effects can be quite manageable for some people, but very serious for others. I thought I was at very low risk of anything bad happening yet treatment still proved unsustainable for me. It can be difficult to find accurate information in a medical field that's been unfairly politicized. I just want what's best for everyone though.

#detrans

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zsuuv139 · 7 months

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rare original content time! and its gonna be me venting

cw: weight "management", weight loss and gain, gynecological issues, doctors, the rona

so either this story starts in my childhood: i've always been a fat girl and have recently discovered that it was basically eating for attention, positive or negative, since i also was a glass child.

or this story starts 3 years ago, with the pandemic. where i gained even more weight. but i also met this guy and he and another friend somewhat motivated me to lose a lot of weight (that i was really happy with and i felt better in my body, happier overall due to exercise). and then last february (2022) not only did i hook up with a guy, i also got myself a nice little BV out of it. and ofc the rona. after the rona cleared up, i went to a gyno who also did an ultrasound and found a cyst. i felt my life implode - i had only heard bad stuff about ovarian cysts.

they told me to not do intense workouts and put me on hormonal birth control. i could barely stand on my 2 legs. and i was depressed as hell. gained a lot of it back. got off the birth control because suddenly the cyst was not on my ovary anymore but somehow adjacent to it and hormones dont help anymore. still couldn't work out.

am also supposed to get an mri that either has a 6 month waitlist or a 100+ usd cost - my monthly pay is about 1k usd so i kinda cant afford it.

i recently took steps toward getting the mri - another gyno visit. now i also have a polycystic ovary (just one of the 2. hormone levels still ok - not pcos).

im also currently getting fired/ laid off and at the time of that appointment, i had just found out and was already exhausted because of multiple failed applications. i was certain that the layoff would happen and was looking and interviewing but got no offers.

when i tried to explain my health situation to my doctor, i ended up crying. she was patient, gave me some paper towels to wipe my face and explained how the procedures were gonna go. i liked the experience overall.

i also gained all the weight i had lost back.

docs want to investigate possible insulin resistance - i got my blood drawn and since then i have a bruise where i was stuck. this has not happened ever before, and i did used to get blood tests for a thyroid issue. im now wondering if this is bc im fat.

went to an endocrinologist - thyroid levels not optimal, and potential insulin resistance that i was hoping they could advise me on.

she calls my name. "how's it going with the weight loss?" i remark that not well.

"do you have endometriosis?"

"im not sure. afaik it needs surgery to be diagnosed and i havent had any surgery in that area. but my periods do hurt like hell and get kinda plentiful, so it wouldnt be a shock."

first few questions go normal, i know my meds, doses, diagnoses. she starts talking about weight loss. i just take it in an "ok im not coming back to her" way. then she starts asking about the cyst. i tell her what i know. she asks "but what does the mri say?" "dunno, they have a 6 month waitlist" "and youre not willing to pay for an emergency?"

now, in her pov, this random fat woman starts crying.

in my pov, all my job hunt stress and worries bubble up - im crying as im typing this ffs, and i do have a job offer currently! i recall how, if i qwere to go on unemployment, i would be eligible for 120 usd a month - i couldn't even pay rent with that! i recall how our transfer within the company was treated - we were told there would be opportunities and we will have to apply, then we applied, got little feedback, and as the other project's start date approached, they started pressuring us (most specifically, me) to do our tests asap and i was literally given 20 minutes on the end of a workweek to decide if i wanted to start on the other project on monday. did not go well.

so i just ended up crying - and angry at myself, since earlier i would just be angry if anything happens, and i was used to working with anger, but i dont know how to deal with crying.

she may have acknowledged that i was crying, saying she knows this situation is not easy but i should do everything to get out of it (no shit).

then, sobbing, i explained that the gyno did not say the mri would be urgent, and she did acknowledge the long waitlist.

doctor goes back to weight loss / eating habits. do i eat dairy? dairy is like fertilizer for the cysts, she says. "i don't drink cows milk. i do like yogurts and cheeses tho." "no, you cannot eat cheese".

what the actual fuck is happening?

she asks me to lay down for an ultrasound of my thyroid (to make sure its all good). i explain that its left side was taken out and on the right, there seems to be just a tiny little lump, and im kinda curious if it grew. should i take off my shirt? nah, just pull the neckline apart.

i would have rather taken it off but k.

she acknowledges that the left lobe is indeed not there, and goes to town with the ultrasound ot see whats up on the remaining right half. kinda hurts but whatever. lets just get this over with.

"how much do ypu weigh?"

"honestly, too much rn"

"100 kg?"

"uhm... [i am above that so i say 5 kg less]"

...

"why did they leave the right lobe?"

fuck knows, lady, it was 10 years ago and im not a doctor. i was an entire child, do you think anyone cared to explain the medical decisions? do you think i understood?

"the theory was that they were hoping it would work at least on its own or that it would make up for the left part"

"well that isnt happening"

"i have noticed. but idk if taking it out now would do any good."

"nah"

tells me i can wipe off the gel and calls me back to her desk while she writes up her report.

tells me that i need a nutritionist for the insulin resistance and refers me to a colleague. then gets back on weight loss.

"the small blob on your thyroid would go away if you managed to lose the weight"

"also don't eat bread. don't have more than 2 slices a day" "i already don't eat bread" "then stop eating pasta."

gurl idk how to tell you but pasta and cheese are the only joy left in my life.

"but you have to go to a specialist. no one can do this alone"

idk how to tell you but im not _paying_ for someone to yell at me to lose weight... i know a lot about diets, nutrition, how a meal should look like, calories, intermittent fasting (btw, have you ever had an endocrinologist recommend intermittent fasting? i heard it was bad for your hormones lol), and i don't want to give like 70 usd for a "specialist" to potentially tell me nothing new. is this arrogant? yes. but again im not rich.

is it cheaper than whatever i would need to do if my body continues to deteriorate? idk. i would have to put it on my goddamn credit card tho.

and then i look on the paper she gave me.

she wrote "emotionally-pshychologically unstable" as a symptom. fuck off the entire way.

i left her office. i cried. i cried some more. i complained to my friends. almost lost it when i couldn't attach a lid on an iced coffee and it spilled on me. i didn't tell my parents because i do not trust them with questions regarding my mental health.

and i read her note about our meet again.

she wrote

"antecedent: right lobectomy.

currently right lobe micronodule"

so that's how doctors listen to fat people.

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burger-goblin · 3 years

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#ok. i feel like shit #constantly. randomly. i'm exhausted #i've been on a testosterone blocker since i was 16 to treat poly-cystic ovary syndrome #stop taking it in January with my antidepressants #now i'm back on both and i just constantly fluctuate between nauseous and tired or wired #cool of my parents to bless me with terrible genes #epic prank guys #personal

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mrskurono · 3 years

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a/n: so my second covid shot has got me feeling a little exhausted and tired, so have these headcanons bc I'm self indulgent and can't think rn

tags: fluff, PCOS (polycystic ovaries), mentions of body dysmorphia, female body hair

character(s): Hanamaki Takahiro (hq), Matsukawa Issei (hq), Iwaizumi Hajime (hq), Kageyama Tobio (hq), Hinata Shoyou (hq), Bokuto Koutarou (hq), Kindaichi Yuutaro (hq), Atsumu Miya (hq), Suna Rintarou (hq)

Haikyuu!! Men + Your PCOS

;| Iwaizumi |; When Iwa sees you haven’t shaved for a few days, and the five o’clock shadow might have set in, this man takes a big ol’ sigh of relief. He in all seriousness doesn’t mind your facial hair and has expressed that multiple times that anyway you want to wear it will never offend him in the slightest. Often not shaving along side with you (and his hair is coarse and a pain to deal with razor burn so when you said your skin is irritated from shaving Iwa 100% gets it) Often likes to rub along your jawline when it’s a little scruffy and kiss it if you let him.

;| Hanamaki |; This man seems tactile and I can’t explain why. He likes it. A lot. Facial hair. Leg hair. Arm hair. He always hauls your legs up on his lap and tends to rub little circles along your unshaven bits without question. Even at the begining of the relationship. It’s almost mindless and calming to him to do it. Often touching without entirely thinking you might not like it but Makki listens well if you ask him not to touch or your particularly sensitive about your heavier hair growth

;| Matsukawa |; If this makes sense, Mattsun loves it when you don’t shave. Nothing sexual. He feels like then he can put down the razor for a bit without making it weird. He’s a clean shaven dude most the time but the second it seems you’re letting your skin breath he is right there with you “We can match.” Is his favorite word choice bc you have found no one will back talk a 6′ something funeral worker when you guys are out together

;| Kageyama |; my Poor idiot his sister is a hairstylist so he sees most people as their well groomed selves (sure he’s seen some ladies with red upper lips from waxing and such but honestly Kags never makes the connection when he goes to get his haircut. Just assumes it’s something that happens in the “fancy” rooms, aka what he calls the aesthetics rooms) So he’s a little surprised the first time he drops by without warning and goes to kiss you but you shy away. Goes through an entire list of reasons in his head why you might be mad but finds you rubbing your face apologizing (this is when he tunes in bc it seems important) and you apologize for not knowing he was coming so your unshaven. Suddenly a light bulb after all those years. Kags is quick to tell you he doesn’t care. Spouts off something about loving you but he’s so bad with words. So he stops and asks what makes you comfortable. Need to pop into the bathroom and shave? He’ll wait. You wanna let him touch it and maybe not be weirded out by it? Man will cup your face and kiss you 100% ok with it

;| Hinata |; Your facial hair isn’t advertised but the lack of facial hair on Hinata is. Jfc he is smooth as can be until maybe his 30s. So you try and keep it up too without him knowing but Hinata just...has no boundaries. Probably found out when he was gonna “hop in the shower” with you unprompted and sees you mid shave. Poor man, first thing out of his mouth is something stupid “Man I wish I had enough to shave.” God, shit hits the fan, Hinata immediately regrets it. He didn’t mean it like that and honestly when you talk it out (and your hiding it) Hinata is so serious about the fact he doesn’t care. In fact finds it endearing. Makes it feel intimate actually and Hinata offers to not bring it up again or learn more. It’s rocky but he’s really got the spirit he just puts his foot in his mouth sometimes

;| Bokuto |; Another who puts his foot in his mouth. Well at least Bokuto is hairy himself. So when he thinks about borrowing one of your razors (your last one) to shave a large area of himself. Effectively making it dull and NOT something you want to use on your face. The little bit of a secret comes out. Bokuto is confused why you shave bc even he goes longs stints with seeing how long it gets. You try to explain to him it makes you more comfortable to be clean shaven. He won’t argue but he does reaffirm the fact sometimes your skin can breath and he’ll love you all the same...oh, and he’ll scribble on a piece of paper to put in his wallet what razors you prefer bc honestly that was the best shave he’s ever had he sees why you use them

;| Kindaichi |; Probably the most tender about it. You don’t exactly hide it, Kindaichi just doesn’t push a lot of boundaries so bathroom etiquette stays stringent for a while in your relationship. When he does get comfortable enough he has a habit of always changing out your razor when it looks dull. He might note that it goes dull a lot for someone who he thought had no hair. But once when you refuse to kiss him and Kindaichi thought he did something wrong, he realizes you won’t really let him look at your face. Finally getting it out of you that you hadn’t shaved. Then it hits him, he forgot to switch out your razor which meant it was a dull one in there. Kindaichi in good Kindaichi fashion apologies profusely and that it’s his fault. Your embarrassed but he really does feel bad for it. So when he asks for a kiss you can’t say no and he doesn’t hesitate to kiss your scruffy cheek and smile at you. You might shave a little less now seeing how good he is around your five o’clock shadow

;| Atsumu |; Sometimes when you have a brother and raised with just boys you say stupid things. Less of a foot in mouth situation like Hinata, Atsumu will accidentally make comments about beards and leg hair and the sorts like he’s talking to Osamu and not his s/o. He means nothing by them but you don’t know that until you have to confess on canceling a few dates recently bc you felt bad about your own facial hair. That’s the second it hits Atsumu like a brick wall that he says some stupid shit. Man breaks out the candy, flowers, letters, stops shaving himself, really works it all up to apologize to you. But really it takes a quiet discussion between the two of you when you ask if he thinks you’re gross all these years and Atsumu may or may not accidentally ask you to marry him bc he loves no one like he loves you

;| Suna |; He knows right off the back. Suna knows you shave. It doesn’t feel the same as unshaven skin (he’s touched too many Miya legs to know this shit) He won’t say anything though. Not bc he wants to see you trip up and expose your secret. But bc he doesn’t care. He knows you have a hard time spending the night at his house for this reason so once when he was grocery shopping Suna picked up the brand of razors he saw in your trash bin + his favorite shave cream and left them in the bathroom for you to see. Something so sweet about it and so Suna. He doesn’t even look up from his phone when you come out and kiss him. He’ll just smooch your cheek and tell you the choice is yours. Just to let him know when you need more so he can pick it up

#threethoughts #hq!!#hq #haikyuu!!#haikyuu #hq writing #haikyuu writing #iwaizumi hajime #hanamaki takahiro #matsukawa issei #kageyama tobio #hinata shouyou #bokuto #kindaichi yuutarou #atsumu miya #suna rintarou

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leaveherwildliketheflowers · 2 years

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Tw: medical/gynecology mention

As I was sitting in the waiting room today I couldn't help but reflect on how lucky I am to have access to affordable healthcare at one of the best health systems in the world. To have a team of providers that advocate for me. To be so supported through this nightmare of a journey by providers who actually care about my wellbeing.

Sitting there I was also nervous. A SIS ultrasound isn't a huge deal, but it's invasive. It doesn't help that the doctor I was seeing is male and that triggers a lot of trauma based fear. I knew it would be fine because I trust my OB and she set me up with him, but that didn't help the knot in my stomach.

I put on my brave face when they called me back. Repeating "I can do this" over and over. In the past my transvaginal ultrasounds have only been with the ultrasound technician. I never actually saw the doctor, they just read the images and gave me results. This time it was different. The technician got me set up and as soon and she slid the probe in the doctor walked in. That caught me off guard a little bit.

He walked and I could immediately sense how calming his energy was. He stayed at my head during the first portion of the ultrasound, which help me feel a little safer. He talked me through the SIS portion of the ultrasound and said that I was in complete control and we could go at my pace. Then he turned to the screen and started talking me through what he was seeing. He told me the uterine cavity looked good but they would need the SIS to be sure. Then we talked about my ovaries and how based on the images it looked like I had PCOS because of all the follicles. I laughed and told him I am well aware of my PCOS. He told me that my thinness will help keep my symptoms mild, so that's good I guess.

Then it was time for the SIS portion of the ultrasound. The doctor stepped down to the end of the table, looked me in the eye and asked if I was ok. When I said yes he said, "Before we start I want you to take a deep breath with me. In...and out. Ok. You're doing great." He then proceeded with the procedure, talking me through everything and never once touching me without telling me first and asking permission. It was exactly what I needed to feel safe.

The procedure itself didn't hurt like I expected it to. It was more uncomfortable than anything. The worst parts were when he cleaned my cervix and when they had the probe and the catheter inserted at the same time. They were very quick and so positive and reassuring the entire time. After they were done the doctor was beaming when he to me that my uterine cavity looks incredibly healthy and there is no reason it can't support a pregnancy. As he was walking me out he told me he is so excited for me and will be asking my OB to keep him posted on my progress.

A few hours later I got an alert that I had a message from my OB. I opened it to read, "[Insert my name], the uterine cavity looks normal!" Her excitement made me smile. This means she either 1. Thought to check my chart today or 2. Had the doctor follow up with her so she could reach out to me directly. Either way this is the perfect demonstration of how much she cares.

The advil I took before the procedure has worn off and I am having a little cramping and discomfort. I'm also exhausted from being wound up and anxious all day. However, I'm also relieved to get good news and hopeful that maybe the next pregnancy will be different. That maybe having a healthy baby in my arms isn't as unachievable as it feels.

#person #tw: medical mention #tw: gynecology #sis ultrasound #infertility #child loss #miscarriage #ttc after loss #ttc journey

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highwaydiamonds · 2 years

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I would like to blame my moods on hormones, but I no longer have the requisite ladyparts upon which i could blame the mood-inducing hormones. Though the ladyparts got chucked, the moods have managed to persist. Unfortunate that I wasn't able to excise those with the ovaries and uterus.

So yeah, today has not been the greatest day or two. Today I definitely had a case of the Sundays - you know, the existential dread feeling of , "Oh shit, it's Monday tomorrow and that means weekday stuff I don't wanna do." Whiich right now, for me is mostly exercising. I also have been terrible and not done any of the food log stuff I am supposed to be doing for my dietician. I know this is mostly because they're hard and make me examine things when I don't want to examine them... Which really just means I not only NEED to be examining them but ALSO examining why I don't want to examine them. So, how's them exhausting mental apples for you ( also me - because they are my exhausting mental apples after all.) Ugh. Guess I'll be talking to my therapist about that one :/ yay.

I just am feeling antsy and at loose ends. Not sure why exactly either. Maybe again it's the whole Sunday thing. I also kinda feel in need of some socializing but just with my own friends/ people, and that's not super easy for me to do. I'm fine on my own, but I get a little claustrophobic around some of the people I live with. They're lovely but sometimes I just find myself chafing at being around them... Like i want to be around people I want to be around them, and Betsy is not them. And with Ron coming back tomorrow morning - yeah well Ron is not them either. But it is what it is. I should just use it as fodder to remind me of my goals. Which means- do better with what I am eating and also do the food logs. And the exercise - even if you do not want to.

And legit I do not want to go to exercise tomorrow. I have been good and been going - but I am just feeling testy about tomorrow. I know I need to go, and I know I will be proud and happy I went after. And it will positively affect my blood sugar for over 24 hours after going so, yeah, I will go and once I get there it will be fine. This is one of those, " your brain is lying to you" moments. Where it's saying I don't wanna go, and the reality is yes I do wanna go because I like all the after effects and I just need to tell my brain ok whiny buttercup,, you have had your petulant session and now we're gonna put our big girl panties on and go anyway, ok? This is how we justify the nails girls, so..... We gotta do the sucky stuff.

Also, I think i am just still holding in some anger from last night. Bailey, one of the big dogs, got out of the front door and was lost for a while. Betsy was doing fuck-all when Gale was getting ready to leave after dinner and Betsy had the door open already. Betsy says that Bailey got out because Gale was fiddle-farting around and Bailey just zoomed out past her (Betsy). Gale said that it wasn't Betsy's fault. I call bullshit on that. Betsy knows better. This is not the first time this sort of thing has happened on her watch. There is an extra long lead kept at the door (on a hook outside) that you clip to bailey's collar so Bailey can go out onn the front lawn. Bailey would run off if she's not on a lead as there is no fence. And Bailey is a big dog - she can BOOK IT. Betsy should know to look out for Bailey and if she is anywhere near by to grab her collar. And if she thinks Bailey needs to go out - to grab Bailey and out her on the lead right away. But Betsy is LAZY with all the dogs and CARELESS much of the time as well.

So Bailey gets out and instead of trying to immediately find her keys she stands there yelling for Xiao ( her son) and Xiao does what he usually does when his mother yells, which is be as slow as humanly possible. I was on the toilet when Bailey got out, so I clean myself up as quickly as possible and run to ask what the emergency is - and Xiao still hasn't shown by this moment. When Betsy tells me, while still just standing by the door yelling for her son- I just go outside and try to yell for the dog but she's nowhere to be seen and I decide I need to go back in and get my car keys to drive and look for her. So I got to my car and Xiao, after an eon, shows up, and he and his mother get in a car as well. Gale leaves with us and she proceeds to also drive around looking for Bailey. (Ron,, Qiu Kui and Ray were all away for the evening so searching wasn't on them) After making a few swings around the streets I take a drive by the house and se Bailey in the yard. I go up to her and see someone had brought her back ad clipped her to her lead. I was SO relieved and I get her into the house. That night was cold - like around 20 degrees maybe? A neighbor comes to the door soon after I got her in and he said they had found Bailey in their yard - I apologized profusely and thanked him immensely. I then texted Xiao and Gale to update them. But I was FURIOUS. Fact of the matter is this would not happen if Betsy let the dogs out back. That yard is fenced. If she can't watch her dogs (usually the small ones) when they go out front and can't control the big ones when they get close to the front door then she shouldn't be letting them out there AT ALL. But she never listens and when she told the tale to Ron last night after it was over, Ron just said to hold on to Bailey's collar... Uh.. DUH?!!! Betsy shouldn't have to be told that. It's flipping obvious. Betsy thanked me a lot for helping, but it's not about that for me. Bailey is a lovely dog and I love her and I just detest how lackadaisical Betsy is about some things with her dogs. I was better today, but there is some residual anger left - I think that's easy to see here... And I just am not used to feeling angry like that.

OK, well it's uber late for me now - for a night where I have to get up early the next day... But I am hoping all this spewing will help me wind down better and let some of this stuff go. Blehhhhhhh remind myself like Jim Croce said, " nobody ever had a rainbow, baby, til they had the rain." So hopefully like Jim also said, "Tomorow's gonna be a brighter day."

#bleh #stuff and nonsense #also stuff about me #moody ranting - exorcising emotions - funtimes if that's your idea of fun i guess

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comrade-meow · 3 years

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This is a transcript of a speech by developmental biologist Dr Emma Hilton delivered on 29 November 2020 for the ‘Feminist Academics Talk Back!’ meeting. This talk was originally published by womentalkback.org

Sex denialists have captured existing journals We are dealing with a new religion

Thank you for the invitation to speak today, as a feminist academic fighting back.

As ever, let’s begin with a story. And, trust me, by the end of this talk, you’re going to know a lot more about creationism that you expected:

1. In the 1920s, in concert with many other American states, the Tennessee House of Representatives passed the Butler Act, making it illegal for state public schools to: “teach any theory that denies the Story of the Divine Creation of man as taught in the Bible.” In other words, banning schools from teaching the theory of evolution.

Three months later, Tennessee science teacher John Scopes was on trial, charged with teaching the theory of evolution, a crime he was ultimately found guilty of. He was fined £71 – about £1064 in today’s money – so it could have been an expensive affair for him, had he not got off on a really boring administrative technicality.

Yet, despite the evidence against him and his own confession, he was an innocent man. Scopes was not guilty of teaching the theory of evolution. He admitted to a crime he had not committed. He even coached his students in their testimonies against him. So why would he admit to this wrongdoing of which he was entirely innocent? Why would he contrive apparent guilt? In protest. In protest against a law he viewed as fundamentally incompatible with the pursuit of scientific truth.

2. The history of creationism and education laws in the US is turbulent and often opaquely legalese, especially for those of us unfamiliar with US law. Some of the methods of the wider creationist movement, however, will be immediately recognisable as they are employed by a new movement, one which seeks to erase another scientific truth, the fact of sex.

Method 1. The framing of human classifications, whether it’s species or sex, as “arbitrary”. This leads to the premise that such phenomena are “social constructs” that need not exist if we chose to reject them. That truth must be relative and consensual. Never mind that these “arbitrary” classifications appear to be surprisingly similar classifications across all cultures and civilisations.

It also necessarily spotlights tricky boundary cases – not really a personal problem for the long-dead evolutionary missing links, but a very real problem in the modern world for people whose sex is atypical and who are constantly invoked, even fetishized, as “not males” or “not females” to prove sex classification is somehow no more than human whimsy.

People with DSDs have complex and often traumatic medical histories, perhaps struggling to understand their bodies, and they deserve more respect than to be casually and thoughtlessly used as a postemodernist “gotcha” by the very people so horribly triggered by a pronoun.

Method 2. The distortion of science and the development of sciencey language to create a veneer of academic rigour. Creationists invented “irreducible complexity” and “specified complexity” while Sex denialists try to beat people over the head with their dazzling arrays of “bimodal distributions arranged in n-dimensional space”.

Creationists, unable to publish in mainstream science journals because they weren’t producing, well, science, established their own journals. “Journals”. Sex denialists have captured existing journals – albeit limited to more newsy ones and to occasional editorials and blogs about gender (which is not sex), about how developmental biology is soooo complicated (which does not mean sex is complicated – I mean, the internal combustion engine is complicated but cars still fundamentally go forwards or backwards), about how discussing the biology of sex is mean (OK, good luck with that at your doctor’s surgery). Many such blogs and articles are written by scientists who simultaneously deny sex to their social media audience while writing academic papers about how female fruitflies make shells for their eggs (no matter how queer they are), about the development of ovaries or testes in fish and about how males make sperm.

The current editor-in-chief at Nature, the first female to hold this position, studied sex determination in worms for her PhD, and she now presides over a journal with an editorial policy to insert disclaimers about the binary nature of sex into spotlight features about research on, for example, different death rates in male and female cystic fibrosis patients.

The authors of the studies are not prevaricating or handwaving about sex, but the editorial team is “bending the knee”. I used to research a genetic disorder that was male-lethal – that is, male human babies died early in gestation. I’d love to know if this disclaimer would be applied there.

Method 3. Debate strategies like The Gish Gallop. This method is named for Duane Gish, who is a prominent creationist. What it boils down to is: throw any old argument, regardless of its validity, in quick succession at your opponent and then claim any dismissal or missed response or even hesitation in response as a score for your side. In Twitter parlance, we know this as “sealioning”, in political propaganda as the “firehose of falsehood”, although Wikipedia also suggests that it is covered by the term “bullshit”. So, what about intersex people? what about this article? what about an XY person with a uterus? what about the fa’afafine? what about that article? look at this pretty picture. what about what about whataboutery what about clownfish? The aim is not to discuss or debate, it is to force submission from frustration or exhaustion.

Method 4. The reification of humans as separate from not just monkeys but the rest of the living world. The special pleading for special descriptions that frame humans as the chosen ones, such that the same process of making new individuals, common to humans and asparagus, an observation I chose because it seems superficially silly – it could have been spinach – requires its own description, one that accounts for gender identity.

3. In the Scopes trial, which saw discussion of whether Eve was actually created from Adam’s rib and ruminations on where Cain got his wife, Scopes was defended by a legal group who had begun scouting for a test case subject as soon as the Tennessee ban was enacted. This legal group claimed to advocate for:

“Freedom of speech for ideas from the most extreme left such as anarchists and socialists, to the most extreme right including the Ku Klux Klan, Henry Ford, and others who would now be considered more toward the Fascist end of the spectrum.”

The legal group so keen to defend the right to speak the truth, in this case a fundamental, observable scientific truth? The American Civil Liberties Union, a group whose modern day social media presence promotes nonsense like:

“The notion of biological sex was developed for the exclusive purpose of being weaponized against people.”

and

“Sex and gender are different words for the same thing [that is] a set of politically and socially contingent notions of embodied and expressed identity.”

and shares articles asserting that biological sex is rooted in white supremacy.

Since the Scopes case, the ACLU have fought against many US laws preventing, or at least compromising, the teaching of evolution. I cannot process the irony of a group of people historically and consistently prepared to robustly defend the truth of evolution while now denying one of the most important biological foundations of evolution.

4. How do we fight this current craze of sex denialism? A major blow for creationism teaching was delivered in 1986 while the US Supreme Court were considering a Louisiana state law requiring creationism to be taught alongside evolution. The Louisiana law was struck down, in part influenced by the expert opinions, submitted to the court, of scientists who put aside their individual and, as one of them has since described “often violent” differences on Theory X and Experiment Y, to present a unified defence of scientific truth over religious belief. 76 Nobel laureates, 17 state academies of science and a handful of scientific organisations all got behind this single cause, and made a very real change.

Support for creationism has slowly ebbed away and the US is in a much more sensible position these days, although I still meet the occasional student from a Southern state who didn’t learn about evolution until college.

Sadly, one of the Nobel laureates has highlighted how unusual this collective response was and that he could not imagine any other issue that would receive the same groundswell of community support. Although he forged his career listening out for the Big Bang, so maybe I need to go through the list and find the biologists.

Part of the problem petitioning biologists to speak out is not necessarily fear of being cancelled or whatever, but simple lack of awareness of the issue, or incredulity that it is being taken remotely seriously. I’ve been working on a legal document and was discussing with a colleague about my efforts to find a citation for the statement, “there are two sexes, male and female”. He laughed at the idea that this would require a citation, told me to check a textbook, then realised that this statement is so simple that it would not even be included in a textbook.

And he’s right. I can find chapters in textbooks and hundreds of academic papers dedicated to how males and females are made, how they develop, how they differ, yet very few that feel the need to preface any of this with the statement “There are two sexes, male and female”. It is apparently something that biologists do not think needs to be said.

But of course, I think they are wrong, and that we live in a time where it does need to be said, where some aspects of society are being restructured around a scientific untruth, and where females will suffer.

Without recognition of and language to describe our anatomy, and the experiences that stem from that anatomy, mostly uninvited, we can neither detect nor measure things like rates of violence against women, the medical experiences, the social experiences of women and girls.

And, as for creationism, the reality of sex perhaps needs to be said by those with scientific authority, in unambiguous terms. Otherwise, we are living in a society that tolerates nonsense like there is no such thing as male or female, that differences evident to our own eyes are not real, that anatomies readily observable and existing in monkey and man alike do not actually exist. I’m sure this last assertion has the full support of the creationist community. And perhaps, as for creationism, a true tipping point will be tested when it is our children being taught these scientific untruths, or worse, when it is illegal to say different.

5. At the end of his trial, the only words Scopes uttered in court were these:

“Your honor, I feel that I have been convicted of violating an unjust statute. I will continue in the future, as I have in the past, to oppose this law in any way I can. Any other action would be in violation of my ideal of academic freedom—that is, to teach the truth as guaranteed in our constitution, of personal and religious freedom.”

I do not exaggerate when I say we are dealing with a new type of religion, a new form of creationism and a new assault on scientific truth. I also do not exaggerate when I say it may take a high profile court case to rebalance the public discourse around sex. There is only so far letters and opinion articles can go.

Two things I predict: 1. It will not be defended by the ACLU, and 2. With the recent proposals on hate speech law, it will probably involve a Scottish John Scopes, who finds themself in front of a judge for the seditious crime of discussing the sex life of asparagus at their dinner table.

Dr Emma Hilton is a developmental biologist studying aspects of human genetic diseases, and her current research focuses on a congenital motor neurone disease affecting the genitourinary tract, and on respiratory dysfunction in cystic fibrosis. She teaches reproduction, genes, inheritance and genetic disorders. Emma has a special interest in fairness in female sports. A strong advocate for women and girls, Emma tweets as @FondofBeetles.

#Anglo.txt

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driversmutbucket · 4 years

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Just read the "knowing other people can hear" with Charlie prompt. OH. MY. LORT. So thank you for that, and for ruining my ovaries with "she'll just be hoping that I'm knocking you up..." *Pant* 🥵 That being said, I would LOVE your take on Charlie's reaction to a pregnancy. Is he nervous? Over the moon? Does the thought of reader carrying his baby get him riled up? Thank you for sharing this wealth of smut. You are a gift ❤️

Thoughts-

Ummmm I feel like we would be great friends. RIP ovaries.

Thanks for the lovely words about my pornnnn

Ohmygodddd sweet Charlie would be absolutely FIZZING.

I though I was gonna reply to this real quick, but alas a few days later- an entire fic.

Let me indulge you.

Warnings: pregnancy, pregnancy sex, oral sex, daddy kink/DDLG (I’m so fucking predictable), NSFW

Charlie never thought he would have the opportunity to be a father again. When you had met each other he was 35, Henry was starting school, he mournfully thought that chapter of his life was over.

Meeting you had been unexpected, in the best way. It started as nothing serious- both having recently come out of messy break ups, but flourished into a committed relationship over the space of a year.

After two years together it happened, by accident. It was a few weeks after Charlie’s 37th birthday. You had felt odd. After a week of persistent symptoms, that google told you could be pregnancy, you had picked up a pregnancy test, heart hammering in your ears.

You has sat in the bathroom dazed for a solid half an hour, the positive test held in your hand.

You scrolled through your contacts and called Nicole.

Charlie and his ex-wife Nicole, despite a stressful and emotional divorce, were on good terms. The first blended family Christmas you had shared, you had clicked. Which, frankly was very helpful, considering your involvement in Henry’s life. Now you talked regularly, and shared in the marvel that was Henry.

The moment she had answered you had burst into tears. They weren’t particularly sad tears, more- overwhelmed tears. She had calmed you, soothed you, her own voice wavered when she processed that Henry would have a sibling.

“Charlie is the best pregnancy and birth partner you could hope for y/n, oh my god, he is going to be so excited.” She had breathed wistfully, perhaps remembering back to her own experience.

That night, you had told Charlie to close his eyes and hold out his hand. He had done so with a questioning smile. You had placed the positive test in his hand, heart pounding, and told him to open his eyes.

He looked at it, then to you, then back at it before letting a laugh of disbelief, “Babe?!”

“I’m pregnant.” You had smiled, anxiety easing.

“Fuck!” He had shouted, grinning, throwing his hands up in the air, before engulfing you in the tightest hug.

His eyes had been filled with tears when he let you go. “Henry is going to be a big brother, I-...you-! This is amazing, i fucking love you so much.”

By this point you had your own tears running down your face, laughing at the state of you both.

—

The last 6 months had flown by. You had found out the gender at the earliest possible point. Both far too excited to wait until the birth. At 15 weeks you had gone in for a scan, breath held as the ultrasound technician inspected the baby.

Tears were threatening to spill even before the technician announced that you were expecting a boy.

Charlie had cupped your face and kissed your lips softly, his own eyes glassy. “Another boy” he had murmured, face glowing with pride.

Henry was almost beside himself with excitement. He had stayed with you over some of the summer break. Every other sentence began with, “When my baby brother....”

Even now he rang almost every night from his mom’s house, asking how the baby was.

Your body had changed rapidly over the last 6 months to accommodate the new life growing inside. Everything was fuller, curvier.

Charlie thought you looked sexier than ever. You kind of didn’t get it, but you happily took it and reaped the rewards.

Rewards being his hands all over you, all the time. His sex drive doubling, if not tripling. Then there were the words he would whisper in your ear, anywhere, anytime that never failed to fluster you.

“You look so fucking sexy, round with our baby.” He would growl, hands roaming up over your hips, grazing the underside of your full breasts before splaying over your large belly.

—

Tonight you were going out for dinner. Henry had not long returned to Nicole’s, the house now to yourself, you had devilish plans to seduction.

You had ordered pregnancy lingere online, and you had to admit, it was hot. The completely sheer baby pink bodysuit had a deep v neckline, your breasts which were large and swollen only just contained by the thin fabric. It was a thong bodysuit, showing your ample bottom in a way that had you saying silent thanks to the pregnancy weight you had gained.

You made sure to pull on your dress and stockings before Charlie could see.

The dress was a recent purchase, having finally given into maternity clothing, everything in your closet far too small to accommodate the bump.

Your OBGYN had told you at your last appointment that your little boy was 99th percentile in size. You had shot Charlie a look of horror.

“I’m not that surprised considering how tall his father is.” the doctor had smiled, “he will certainly be a big boy, I would say at this rate, 9lbs or more.”

“Oh course you would knock me up with a mini version of yourself.” You had huffed on the way home, “this kid is gonna wreck me.”

Consistent with his projected size, your bump was larger than most, people often mistaking you for further along. “Nope he is just huge.” You would sigh, giving Charlie the side eye, he would grin in return.

The dress was navy blue, and stretched, ruching nicely over your belly before ending mid calf.

“Is that new?” Charlie asked as he walked into the bedroom.

“Mmm yeah, because unfortunately wearing your clothing isn’t an option in this instance.” You shot him a sly smile.

Have exhausted your own wardrobe of options a few weeks ago you had moved to Charlie’s, which he had no complaint about. In fact it was added to the mile-long list of current turn-on’s.

“As much as love seeing that belly fill out my clothes, this is very nice.” He chuckled, coming in behind you as you stood at the full length mirror, kissing the top of your head and patting your bottom.

You dozed in the uber on the way home. Charlie had had a few wines and was having an enthusiastic conversation with the driver.

He led you through the door close to midnight, when you got to the bedroom you kicked your shoes off.

“Can you undress me?” You asked innocently.

Bless him, he was none the wiser as he reached for the hem of your dress and began peeling it off and over your head.

His eyes widened as he tossed the dress aside and took in the lingere.

“Fuck— what is this?” His voice was an octave lower, fingers tracing the neckline.

You bit your lip. “A little something for you.”

“Can you take off my stockings baby?” You asked as you turned around and bent yourself over, planting your hands on the bed.

The position gave him a view of the back of the bodysuit, the thong, beneath the stocking.

“Fuck.” he groaned, finding the waistband and rolling them off you slowly, until he was knelt down, helping you step out of them.

“Stay like that.” He murmured, running his hands up your legs, until then got to your ass, where he smacked both cheeks at the same time with splayed hands.

You let out a throaty moan.

His lips grazed the red marks that lingered, your breathing growing erratic as his mouth got closer to your sex.

“Always so wet.” He hummed. Pushing aside the thin strip of fabric.

You gasped as his tongue began to circle your entrance.

“Hhnnnghh Charrrrrrlie.” You pushed your hips back, into his face, spurring him on as he licked through your folds to your aching nub. His nose providing additional stimulation as it dragged.

His mouth, that magic mouth, had you gripping the sheets and whimpering.

He paused and stood you up from where he knelt, making adjusting your legs so they were hip width apart.

He sat on his feet and went back to work, your hips automatically began rocking against his mouth.

When you looked down you couldn’t see much, your belly obscuring what was probably an orgasm inducing view.

Your hand found his hair and gripped a handful as your moans became louder.

“Charlie— holy hell— I—” you babbled, before orgasming on his face, hips stuttering.

“Oh my god.” You breathed, stepping back and finding the edge of the bed before your legs gave out.

You gazed at him, kneeling there, hair touseled, face wet with your slick.

He stood and began stripping wordlessly, trousers bulging with evidence of his arousal.

You stood up, as he stepped towards you, and pulled him in for a hungry kiss. His hands roamed, teasing your nipples through the sheer fabric.

He broke the kiss. “As much as I love this little number, I need to take it off.” He said with a smirk.

“And then what?” You asked innocently, looking up at him through your lashes.

“You know very well what, little girl.” He rumbled, sliding into his role seemlessly.

“I don’t Daddy, you have to tell me.” You pouted.

He chuckled, as he began to peel off the lingere, your heavy breasts finally free from the constructing garment.

He made a primal rumbling sounds in his chest as his hand took your tits and kneaded them.

“Well little one, Daddy is going to undress you, and then you are going to be a good girl and sit on Daddies cock, ok?”

You nodded eagerly, “that’s my good girl” he hummed, pulling the lingere the rest of the way off so it fell to your feet, kicking it aside.

He got onto the bed and knelt, sitting on his feet, eyes fiery with desire as he looked at you.

“Look at you, so beautiful carrying Daddies baby. Come here.” He patted his thigh.

You got onto the bed and crawled over to him before shimmying back onto his thighs, your back to his chest.

He guided your hips up, teasing your entrance with the head of his cock.

“Please.” You whimpered.

“Please, what? He growled in your ear.

“Please Daddy.”

“Good girl.”

He pulled your hips down onto his cock, filling you to the hilt with a loud moan.

You cried out in pleasure, this angle had quickly become a favorite in pregnancy.

He helped you move, one hand under your bottom, the other cradling your tummy lovingly.

“Oh fuck Charlie.” You murmured, roleplay forgetten as you lost yourself in the dragging of his cock.

He moaned into your neck, you reached behind your head, gripping his hair, your back arching slightly.

“Y/n” He breathed, nibbling your ear, “you gonna cum for me babe?”

You whimpered, nodding, his hand cradling your belly moving down to seek out your needy clit.

He circled it slowly, relishing the sound of your long, low moans.“OhOh— right there.”

You arched your back, pushing down against him with your hips, driving his cock as deep inside you as you could. He responded by firmly and quickly rubbing your clit, sending you over the edge in a matter of seconds.

He came with a groan as your inner walls strangled his cock, milking every last drop of cum.

You relaxed against him, panting and grinning, his cock still snuggly inside you. He rolled you both, carefully so you were laying, spooning as he stretched his legs.

His hands rubbed your belly, soon after your son began to kick enthusiastically.

“Little tyrant.” You muttered, eyelids getting heavy.

“Him or me?” Charlie joked, hand moving in circulation motions over his little kicks.

—

#fan fiction #filth and smut #charlie x reader #charlie barber #charlie barber x reader #preggo sex #request #smutbucket

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herstoryherlegacy · 3 years

Text

God shows up

Today I had a laundry list of things to do starting at 8am. I jumped out of bed to do fasting bloodwork for my endocrinologist before my gyno appointment. I had time to grab a bite at Starbucks before that appointment. I was pretty happy because my favorite beauty brand Dose of Colors had reposted my Gofundme page on their IG stories. I can’t say enough about how sweet the entire staff is over there. I’m so blessed to know them and thankful for their support of me as an artist and person. I have been so blessed with donations to my family that I felt compelled to do something for someone else. In the drive thru I looked behind me, to see a mama and what looked to have been her baby in the back she was attending to. Of course I felt connected to her as a mama of a toddler. I wanted to treat her to her drink because who knows what she has going on, but it’s early morning and she’s been mom’ing already. At the window I paid for both of our orders and left to my doctors, hoping her day had been made. I also loaded my card up with $30 and posted it to my IG stories to further treat my lovely followers if they needed a drink. I’ll come back more to this later.

My gyno appointment wasn’t bad. I was getting a pap which I had missed a couple weeks prior. This doctor who was new to me, was the one who called me with my official diagnosis. He is kind and caring and I have never desired to have a male gyno, but I felt comfortable in his presence. He asked me how I was doing and I told him my concerns about wanting a hysterectomy to further avoid any cancers. He said that may not be the best choice, unless my genetics testing said I am at risk. He mentioned removing my ovaries can put me at higher risk of heart attacks and Jesus I’m already at risk because of my diabetes. I was hoping it would be a positive and preventative option, but it comes with its own risks. Am I willing to take them? Honestly…a lot of these choices aren’t even mine. I mean yeah, legally I have the choice to say no to chemo and no to surgery and just live my life like normal, ignoring my health concerns. But no one really does that. I hate I don’t have choices in what happens do me. No I will never opt out of treatment, because I value my life, but do I want to do any of this shit? Nay. With cancer, I don’t have any choices it feels like. My body is calling the shots and I have to bow down to what’s happening. I felt pretty upset after that talk. I felt scared. My once pretty ok morning was not spiraling into darkness. I still had shit to do. I needed to drop off my daughters homeschool work and pick up new work. I had to go to Ashley furniture and check out that recliner I wanted. I was in no mood, I was crying a ton. So I headed to Ashley. I knew I wanted to see the same nice lady who had helped me previously with my purchases, but what was her name again? I could describe her. But I didn’t feel like describing her because I felt like if I spoke I would cry, I was still in that place. So i sucked it up as much as I could and walked in.

Guess who was sitting right at the entrance to greet me. Helen 🤍. I reintroduced myself and told her what I was in for today. She remembered me and got up to show me around. She turned over her shoulder and asked how I was doing. I answered honestly. I told her I was not doing well, and that I needed this recliner for my chemotherapy. I of course, broke down. And she looked me dead in the eyes, really the only place she could look since we are both masked, and she spoke to me firmly, but not harshly. She told me to stop right now. She implored me to look into meditation. She explained all the benefits and told me that I needed to stop putting my fears into the universe and start replacing those with good thoughts. She had an entire conversation uplifting me and before I knew if I had stopped crying completely. I’m not sure helens religious beliefs or if she doesn’t have any, but the conversation we had could have very well replaced some words with “Jesus” and served the same purpose. Because yes I do believe the universe lines things up for us, but I can also say the same thing about God. And I whole heartedly because God lined me up with Helen today. She told me that if I had come yesterday or tomorrow she wouldn’t have been here. And it’s true. I was meant to go there yesterday but my daughter was sick and I saved it for today. I can’t deny that wasn’t Devine intervention. I needed helens healing words today. I found my recliner and was granted a great deal. And what do you know? Helen also works at Home Depot by me, has been for 25 years! I told her I also needed a new fridge and she was going to be able to help me there also. My needs are being met, and I have none other to thank than Jesus. He has never left me before, I don’t believe he would leave me now, and as much as I feel..betrayed by this diagnosis, God is showing me he is very much still there. I don’t know how to tap into him completely yet, my relationship needs work, but I want to know his plan and I want to know I’ll be okay. So far, I believe I’m being shown just that.

Poor Sophie had been super sick the other day with some sort of tummy bug. I also needed to grab her an at home covid test to help rule that out. I visited one CVS with no luck. Grabbed lunch and headed to another. This one I asked the pharmacy and she said it would be at the register if they had them, but she didn’t think they would. I was feeling defeated not being able to get one for soph, but I asked anyway. The girl said “you know what, I’ve been telling people all day we are out, but my manager actually found 3 in the back”..you’re here God, I see you. I grabbed one and with some assistance from the lovely associate I saved $12 off my purchase, these things aren’t cheap. I felt better and headed home. I had lunch, and passed out on the couch. I was exhausted to the bone running around for 6 straight hours. I slept on the couch for 3’ish hours. It felt wonderful. I’m still dreadfully tired so I’ll say goodnight here. But Regardless of what my relationship status is with the Lord, he has never ever not once left me hanging. I have always been able to have my needs met by him. This is no time for me to question our God, but instead press in, thank him for my blessings, see those silver linings, and manifest as Helen says, the things I want. So I am speaking into the universe, that I will be healed, that I will be here for my girls. I’m believing it. But also..don’t stop praying for me!

Oh! Before I go, trip out on this.

#cancer #manifestingmiracles

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thisisthinprivilege · 4 years

Note

Hi, I am having a difficult time researching something so that I am prepared when I go see my OBGYN about a medical issue I've been having. I don't know what is reliable information and what isn't. Can being fat cause extremely abnormal, heavy vaginal bleeding? I've been bleeding non-stop since April (haven't been to a doctor because I lost my job and insurance). I'm worried they'll just dismiss it because of my weight and I'm at my wit's end with anxiety and exhaustion. Thanks for all you do

OK, I really need to stress that I am not a medical professional here. We’ve been getting a lot of these, I do the best I can, but seriously. Not a doctor or nurse.

That said.

No, being fat does not cause menorrhagia (excessive or extended menstrual bleeding), any more than being fat causes missed periods. What causes that is usually a hormonal imbalance, like from PCOS or endometriosis. Being fat does not cause hormonal imbalances, but hormonal imbalance correlates with being fat because hormonal imbalance is one of the things that can make you fat.

If you recently got an IUD, that’s actually the first thing you want to check on, especially a copper one (Paraguard).

If your doctor tries to dismiss your problem, say, “I would like you to check me for polycystic ovary syndrome, fibroids, and endometriosis.” (Checks for those things should at least give clues in case it’s something else. You can also, if you like, ask them to test you for thyroid disease, which is also common and can also cause weight gain.) If they refuse and say it’s just because you’re fat, say, “I want you to make a note in my records that says you declined to test me for common causes of menorrhagia.” They will probably sigh and say fine, they’ll check you. If they don’t, watch to make sure they make the note, then go find a new gyno. (What you’ve just done is said, very politely, that if they don’t do what you want, and you have something serious, you want the evidence that they didn’t do their job, which can be used to sue them for malpractice. It also puts them on notice that you are not clueless. If you have to do this, then at every step of the way, continue to insist that they document what they’ve done and haven’t done thoroughly. You don’t have to emphasize it after that, just say, “Please, I’d like you to be really thorough in keeping my records updated, in case I have to move” or something.)

They should do things that include, but are not limited to, a blood test for your hormone levels and a pelvic ultrasound.

Good luck.

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sup4l3e · 3 years

Text

I’m Crazy...

I’m insane...

I've lost the plot..

I'm hopeless..

I'm worthless..

I'm unloveable..

I'm pathetic..

I'm weird..

I'm strange..

I'm not okay...

I'm a psycho... (ok this one for me might be true... question it, go on try it! i dare you! ;0 lol)

BUT...

I AM!!!

Those are just some of the things my own mind tells me on a daily basis ... yes here it comes a blog about anxiety and depression... omg!! i know right the cliche of it all. like who hasnt written a blog about depression before ...

oh woe is me! am i right?

well... thats where you're wrong!

(before i start i want no sympathy im not writing this for the "aww's" and the "bless her" comments, i dont want sympathy or empathy ... this is simply because ive experienced and lived with depression for about 14 years and if i can help one person feel better about themselves by reading this or help someone realise that they are not alone then, well, i can rest easy tonight. If anything i want to empower people)

I lived for so many years in the dark, keeping all of this too myself and you know what it did? absolutely sweet FA apart from making me so much worse, it gave ammunition to those little voices, telling me all of the above, making them win!

i didnt realise until about 2-3 years ago that talking about my experiences and how im feeling would help.

i didnt realise until about 2-3 years ago how many other people around me were going through the EXACT same thing.

Two and a half years ago i was a completely different person, i was sheltered, i was in a very toxic relationship ... with myself. Most people would disagree, they'd say i was actually in a toxic relationship with my ex partner; but i cant blame him. Dont get me wrong he was toxic and looking back i was lucky to get out when i did, however i am also grateful too him, because he showed me exactly what i dont want in my life. and being fair to him i'd lived with my own toxicity in my mind for a good 10 years before him, so god forbid i'd give him the satisfaction of all that praise coz by god did i do a damned good number on myself without any of his help. ;)

In all honestly though, i do blame myself and my own mind, because 2 and a half years ago those little voices in my own head were the only thing i was listening to, they were winning. I wasnt listening to my family who were worried sick about me, who were practically begging me to tell them what was going on in my head, who i shut out, ignored and pushed away because i couldnt cope and you know what? they didnt deserve that at all. i live everyday regretting that i put them through that, So i now live everyday hoping to make them proud of me and live each and everyday with a promise. I do however live every day regretting that i didnt let them in earlier because if i had of i wouldnt have gone through the hell i did and i wouldnt have genuinely believed "this is what i deserve" "no-one else will love you" "no-one else wants you" "no-one cares"... i wouldnt have had too live a LIE.

The lie was people did love me, i just couldnt see it, people did care about me, i just wouldnt hear it, i needed their help, i just wouldnt speak it; because at that point in time my own mind was telling me that i didnt deserve any of that, and that nobody would ever want to do that for me. So i found sactuary in a toxic person who in the long run made me the strong person i am today because if it werent for him i'd never have the confidence in myself knowing what i overcame, and if it werent for him i wouldnt have seen my family and loved ones take charge and say "Leanne enough is enough" .. they gave me the metaphorical slap across the face i damned well needed and brought me back to reality, they categorically wouldnt allow that behaviour to carry on anymore and for that i will forever be grateful!

i made a promise to them that day that i would always tell them when i was getting low again and i made a promise to myself that day that i would keep them in the forefront of my mind in all of my decisions and i would also promise to try and help anyone else who was ever in the same position i was in.

depression is a funny old thing, everyone will experience some form of depression throughout their life, some people are genetically wired to experience it, some people will experience it from a young age, some dont experience it until very late on in life, some experience it from sad/happy/overwhelming life events, some unlucky souls just never find happiness. but no matter what EVERYONE will, at somepoint experience depression. in this blog im going to try and explain how i've learned to manage and cope with mine.

A bit of a backstory of my depression, it started around the age of 14-15, my depression. I dont know where it came from but it was right around the time of my GCSE's, college, boys, hormones, and being diagnosed with PCOS (for those of you who dont know what that is its Polycystic Ovarian Syndrome) i was told at a young age of 14 that i had some sort of syndrome which "would only matter when i got older", and that i had some of the prettiest ovaries the sonographer and gyneacologist had ever seen... in hindsight that wasnt going to be the compliment i first thought it was or the dismissive statement they portrayed it and brushed it off as, at all! THAT diagnosis changed alot of my life, however i will get back to that.

As most teens do around here I started studying for my GCSE's at just 15 years old. i was so stressed out i started actually hearing a screaming voice in my head. i suffered panic attacks daily, sometimes a few attacks a day, and that is where my anxiety started and then, good old depression smashed me in the face. i found the more stressed i became, the more id hear that screaming inside my head which then lead me to thinking " holy fucking shitballs im hearing voices im actually insane" therefore leading to more anxiety and panic attacks. so much so i would come home exhausted at 4pm everyday crawl into my pyjamas and climb into bed ready to do it all again the following day. (dont get me wrong i sat most nights on msn using the latest flashing emojis for EACH and EVERY letter of the alphabet, to the point it looked more like hyroglyphics and obviously getting the colours just right with the codes to make your name and status show in a rainbow. but that was all done in pj's curled up in bed because i couldnt manage much else ... however, if my mam asks i was revising and doing my homework THE. WHOLE. TIME, not talking to my friends about how hot a certain crush's bum looked that day ha! am i right! :P xoxo)

This was all a massive thing for me to go through aswell, due to the fact my dad has mental health issues and lives with schizophrenia, so, naturally at this point, you can imagine i was picturing myself in padlocked straight jackets and padded cells, talking away to the screaming voice in my head. the funniest thing was this screaming voice wasnt saying anything nasty or bad it was just my thoughts screaming at me like everything was angry, so genuinely just everyday life thoughts but those screaming at me, like, imagine thinking "leanne dont forget to pack your PE kit" but in the voice of Gunnery Sergeant Hartman from Full Metal Jacket... it. was. TERRIFYING!

Anyways, so yes high school was a massive contributor, then i made the choice to leave college at 17 because i, like many others, didnt have the faintest clue what i wanted to be when i grew up (little did i know id live the life of peter pan and neverland would be my sesh house OIOI!!!) In leaving college i went into full time work, as a 'temp job' until i decided what i was going to do... unfortunately, 8 and a half years later i was still their prisoner! haha, Nah, dont get me wrong i met some absolutely amazing people in that job and i did love it but i knew at the end, if i didnt get out it was going to kill me off. I'd gotten to the point in that job that i cried myself to sleep knowing i had to go back in the next day. that place contributed alot to my depression not because it was a bad job but because id made a wrong decision and was stuck there. i had to leave.

my next massive contributor, and this is where i divulge some of my REAL heartbreaks. PCOS - Poly Cystic Ovarian Syndrome or what i like to call Poly fucking Cystic fucking Ovary fucking Syndrome or "lets just fuck shit up!" (no im not bitter about it at all lol) because of this shit, from the very young age of 14 (like puberty isnt hard enough - spots, hair in places you never wanted boobs growing overnight, bleeding once a month being the biggest inconvenience) i have also had to deal with weight issues, hersuitism, depression, anxiety, hormones that sent me bat shit crazy, pain, headaches, fatigue, you name it i had it. but the biggest heartbreak, being told that id always have difficulty concieving and carrying a child. Anyone who knows me, and knows me well, knows i have always wanted to be a mam. (and not the sesh mam who looks after all my drunken idiotic friends on a night out ... coz i swear thats all they ever think i do lol) I mean a real mam, to a real baby. and being told at a young age that i had the prettiest ovaries the gyneacologist had ever seen wasnt the compliment i thought it was because it turned out my ovaries were absolutely covered in cysts. And for years i have tried to have a baby but alas nothing ever happens. i've had a few close calls and ive miscarried, or at least i think i did, the test came back positive but then about 3 days after that pretty pink second line, i had the heaviest period i had ever had for around 4 hours and then my body went back to normal as if nothing happened. it broke my heart.

They say the human body is delicate and intricate and should be treated with respect... i say its a machine and its a absolute twat at times, and why should i respect what in essence has caused me heartbreak from a young age FOR NO FUCKING REASON. but hey ho... life. goes. on.

so... thats my life story or just a snippet of it. and some of the reasons why i have depression.

heres how i cope...

Well, for a long time.. and i mean a VERY LONG time i didnt. i hid it, i hid away from the world. i drank alot. i avoided family, i avoided my best friends, i avoided anything that would have brought me back to reality.

For a long time though, thats what i needed. now im not saying running away from your issues is easy and thats what you should do because its definitely not. im saying i NEEDED to do it at the time because i had no other way of coping and i NEEDED too to learn what not to do in the future. So masking, for me, was better than facing things 'alone'. In that time though, i made my issues alot worse and in fact caused more issues. it hurt my family, my friends and well hurt myself too, because in the long run i still had to sober up and i still had to deal with the same issues that got me down in the first place, i ended up in debt which contributed further too my issues. I did some very silly things which when i look back on them now i could have hurt so many people. i took an overdose of painkillers at one point around 2 and a half years ago. I felt so weak i saw no other outcome but instantly regretted doing it and made myself sick so that they came back up. i've told my mother and close friends about this previously but i think to really show how much i've learned and to reach out to anyone who is feeling the same way i did, to tell them IT REALLY DOES GET BETTER AND EASIER. i think saying that, shows my honesty throughout this post and allows for my experience and honesty really show that i want to help anyone going through the same thing.

Masking just makes the pain go away for a short period of time. learning from your pain and making it your strength is how you really overcome your own mind and depression.

It wasnt until i realised i was never alone, just how selfish and stupid id been all that time, because in masking, hiding and running away, id stupidly stopped myself from a faster recovery, less heartache, less pain and mental and physical torture. and really i stopped myself from helping others in the same position as me.

it wasnt until i learned to make my pain my strength that i truly found peace in who i am.

i still have days where those voices wont shut up, and they win and thats ok.

i still have days where i cannot climb out of bed and thats ok.

i still have days where i cry and the pain is too much and thats ok.

because i learned all of it really is ok! everyone has those same thoughts the same feelings the same illnesses. and i know that tomorrow WILL be a better day.

you just need to learn how to make it and own it as your own!

nothing has changed for me, all of those things are still true they're still real, my body hasnt miraculously healed itself, i still made poor life choices, it hasnt changed my hormonal imbalances but it has changed my mindset. it has changed my life. i made a choice to change my mindset and not let it beat me i decided to let people in. my family are my guardian angels because they never gave up on me, they dragged it out of me and frogmarched me to the doctors for the help i needed but some people dont have that support in their lives.

i'm lucky enough now, to have lived with this for long enough to know my signs, and when i know what i call, "going dark" is coming. basically when i start slipping and losing control of it again, i identify it and know how to manage it head on. unfortunately my body because of the stupid "intricate machine" i have and how broken it is (believe me the day i can swap out into an AI robot body imma sign straight up for that shit imma have me a body like Jennifer Anniston) my body however tends to go into a meltdown, i end up with more migraines, pain and infections. i also get extremely tired to the point i can sleep for a good 15-20 hours a day and thats not me being lazy (although if sleeping were an olympic sport i'd be the universal champion of it BED=LIFE) thats really me needing to reset. at that point in time when i know this is coming, thats when i reach out; i tell my friends and my family "I'm not okay" because i know now i can do that, i can talk to them.

i, personally, take medication daily, and for some reason we live in a society where people are actually shamed for doing so. i know if i dont take those 2 little tablets every day i will lose control and become a shell of who i really am. my seratonin levels drop and i practically become a robot barely functioning. so why should i be ashamed of those 2 little 'happy pills' which make me the person i want to be and know i truly am! no chemical imbalance is going to get the better of me! if i can have the help, im damned sure going to take it. along with the happy pills, aswell as alot of sleep, sunbeds, spending time with family and friends whenever i possibly can, i now have a job that i love, i also retrained as a beautician, and i love going to the gym and swimming whenever i can, ive found i can manage mine alot better. one thing that massively changed my life was limitting when i drink. i rarely go out drinking anymore and the reason is because i know deep down i will end up in a very low state afterwards. alcohol is a depressant and i wont allow that kind of thing to get me down. so now instead i choose to drink once a month if not less. i havent cut out the drink completely i just know if i want to get blinding drunk i need to be in a very happy place to do so. so i am careful where i drink, who i drink with and what i do whilst im drinking and unfortunately much to my neighbours disgust that tends to be in the house whilst singing along to whitney houston or disney songs at the top of my lungs, but thats how i know i'll not plummet the day after, and lets face it anyone whose heard me singing knows whitney had nothing on me ;)

In all seriousness though, the best advice i can give anyone living with depression is talk to someone, talk to your family, talk to your neighbour, talk to your friends, talk to your doctor, talk to your dog, your cat, the postman, the man on the bus who sits oddly close too you... just talk to anyone. tell them how you are feeling tell them your experiences. tell them what is getting to you. Find someone who you can trust, find a stranger. write it all down in a blog. video it. GET IT ALL OFF YOUR CHEST! SAY IT OUT LOUD! Just. Bloody. Talk! please!

everyones experiences with depression are different some people mask it, some people show it, some people (like me now) shout it from the fucking rooftops because im not afraid of my emotions anymore.

everyones ways of coping are different too, some people find the gym helps, some rely on medication, some rely on talking therapies... there are so many different ways of coping out there now... the only way that doesnt work is not admitting something is wrong and fighting your own mind without help, knowing something isnt right but still doing nothing about it. The only way of not coping is living a lie, you dont have to do this alone!

Basically do those things just for you, the ones you've always wanted to do! get that tattoo you wanted, quit your job, retrain, change your hair colour, buy that car, buy that dog, book that holiday.

do what makes YOU happy!

live for you and open up, people would rather know how you are feeling than see you struggle or ultimately not be here.

open up you never know someone might be feeling the exact same way you are and it could bring you closer.

but remember most importantly:

You ARE NOT Alone..

You ARE NOT Crazy..

You ARE NOT insane..

You HAVE NOT lost the plot..

You ARE NOT hopeless..

You ARE NOT worthless..

You ARE NOT unloveable..

You ARE NOT pathetic..

You ARE NOT weird..

You ARE NOT a psycho..

You ARE NOT strange..

And..

You ARE okay...

You ARE Beautiful..

You ARE Worth it..

YOU ARE Loved

i hope this helps...

thank you ☺

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shelleyvanniekerk · 3 years

Text

Cant find a fitting title ???

I have not blogged much of late, mainly because I feel like a stuck record and also I don't think people have time to read blogs much anymore, and my topic is rather depressing to say the least. I hate to always sound like I am complaining, but somehow writing about what goes on in your head allows it to make sense for yourself so you don't think you going mad, and maybe sometimes it hits home for others, and they can look at things with a different view and have a little bit more understanding.

So my question is this. Imagine you were told you had a terminal disease, and there is no cure. And the only thing that may extend your life (for no guaranteed time), is medication that you have to take daily. That's not too bad you might think, I mean most people are on some sort of medication for a chronic condition and the meds may be life saving. But add to that, that this medication has no guarantee, and hellish side effects! You also have to go for monthly injections, monthly blood tests, and three monthly scans, and oncology visits to hear the outcome. I'm on my 16th cycle now so its been just over a year that this has been gone on. I cant count how many times I have been poked by needles and how many pills I've swallowed, and how many scans/tests I've had and how many times I've had to sit at the Doctors rooms waiting for results. The worst is I've done it all pretty much alone, because of Covid I've not been allowed to take anyone with me. And yes on top of all this you have Covid to worry about. You are high risk and so as if you don't have enough to worry about there is a virus going around killing people also, and guess what, it affects the lungs.

So my cancer has spread to my lungs and in the beginning they said spine, ribs and right femur. They have since ruled out spine as what they saw on the scans was a life long issue with my discs, even though I told them that in the beginning, they are more likely to assume its cancer. They don't comment on the ribs anymore - I am assuming since they haven't responded to the treatment that it is not cancer and the right femur we don't know about because they have not done another full body scan to actually check that.

I've made peace with the fact that I have to take the pills daily, it is after all a small price to pay for extended life. Although sometimes when I have a few wines in, (yes I drink), I get really annoyed with it and have violently thrown the tablets around some nights spewing out some vulgar language about how much I hate taking them. I have to diarize each time I take them, so obviously I do take them and at the same time everyday, 6h30 each night to be exact.

What I cant seem to make peace with is for starters, the monthly injections. Mostly because they are painful and its not a pleasant experience being jabbed in the stomach each time and you left with a nasty bruise. Sometimes the bruise from the month before is still there and then you get the next bruise. I have the decision of having my ovaries removed, that way I wont need the monthly jabs anymore, but again that's surgery, and now with Covid I don't really want to go to hospital unnecessarily any time soon. But I do get dreadful pains in the ovaries, much like a period and that just makes me mad, I mean, why do I need to put up with unnecessary pain? But its something I will do before the end of the year I think. That will sort one issue out at least. Well two, considering the pain.

Also I have not made peace with the scans and the results.... it really is a difficult thing for me. Its called in cancer terms, scanxiety and yes it exists its not something I made up. And the thing is because its every three months, its like you in a never ending cycle of anxiety. I never relax. I can never sit back and be complacent and think ‘everything is ok’, because with cancer you just never know. I mean 7 years ago I was stage one, it didn't go to the lymph nodes where it apparently goes first if it does spread, and I had a mastectomy and chemo and radiation and and and - and I thought back then that its all over. But it wasn't was it. It went to the lungs and I found out myself because I could not stop coughing and went to see a new GP who suggested bloods. Funny that my oncologist never did bloods - she said they just don't do them and a physical examination is good enough. Well clearly its not. Clearly. If anyone is ever in this situation demand blood tests.... at least every three months. I think its very necessary to keep a record of your cancer count. I mean how the hell else are you supposed to know what's going on it your body? Had they picked it up 3 years ago when I had a normal chest x-ray and started me on treatment then, maybe things would have been different. Who knows.

And that brings me to the anger. That on top of the anxiety. Its the anger that I cant deal with. I thought I had dealt with it but every time I hit a wobbly, its very evident to those around me, especially my husband who gets the brunt of it, that I have not dealt with the anger. But then again, how can you? How can you make peace with the fact that you did everything you should have, and then this nasty disease still decided to come back. How do you make peace with the negligence on the doctors side? And how do I make peace with the fact that this is my lot in life and nothing I do can change it. I mean I love the fact that some people can become NED (no evidence of the disease) after being stage 3 or 4.... and apparently they do so with various things. But its not the case for everyone. Some peoples bodies just don't respond to any diet, any miracle pill, any exercise, and it just keeps spreading elsewhere. And trust me its not for lack of trying. I do follow a reasonably good diet, I do try exercise and drink water, I do take vitamins and constantly searching for new things. I do take cannabis oil, and I'm forever trying to incorporate natural things that have proven to have good results for cancer like turmeric, ginger, bicarb and lemon blah blah blah. The only thing I have been consistent on is the cannabis because it took me from being on 3 patches of morphine to almost no pain in a matter of months so I truly believe in its benefits.

And so far after about 14 months (or more I don't know) I have had good results. Meds and all. There has been about 40% shrinkage and there is no new cancer so that is great news. But I'm at a point now that no matter the results, even though they have been good and I'm very grateful, I still feel so defeated. I cannot get excited and jump up for joy, purely because A) I am anxious about what lies ahead and B) because I've been disappointed before. I've been misdiagnosed and been through so much already that even though its good news I just cant find inner peace, happiness or joy right now. The anxiety outweighs everything, and I wish I could shake it off somehow, but I just cant. I am constantly reminded of cancer, and I'm constantly going for scans and bloods and tests that one never gets to a point where you can forget, even for just a little while. Why cant I just be happy and forget about all this, just for a little while?

I've tried to hand things over to God, I talk to him daily. He knows my struggle. I so hate people who say you don't have enough faith... gosh, whatever. Some people just need a kick up the arse for their insensitivity. They don't know my relationship with God and let me tell you if you were in my shoes you would be quivering in your shoes also, and trust me faith is hard to find when you got all this going on!

So I wake up scared and I go to bed scared and the anxiety is just the pits. And I just try to the best of my ability to function like a normal person, wife, mother, friend, daughter etc. But this thing has seriously taken over my personality. Most of the time I'm faking everything and its so exhausting. So so exhausting. This Covid hasn't helped because that in itself has presented new challenges and has made life rather depressing on top of everything else. But here we all are, trying hard to keep our heads above water and plod on despite the horrible stuff happening around us.

I am however exceptionally lucky to have a very understanding husband and some really awesome friends. There are a few people in my life that truly understand and never judge me. There are also some who have no clue and they judge me for sure behind my back. I'm not too worried about the judgements because you know, none of us are perfect and if you think you are then you have a big surprise when God Almighty comes down one day soon and tells you what a terrible person you have been.... (eeek, I am judging now too). But I am very grateful to those who have stuck around despite my Wobblies, who genuinely care and love me despite my craziness. You know who you are and I love you so so so very much. And of course my daughter who keeps me on my toes. Without her I would be locked up in an asylum pleading with the nurses to let me go!

To anyone and everyone who is going through a similar journey (I hate that word) , I get you, I totally get you. I love you and I pray for you. And most of all I wish I could make everyone’s pain go away.

Blessings and love always

Shelley

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