Mourning the impending death of my uterus


Not only am I creepily naked and sobbing in the above photos, I am also disgustingly smearing my lipstick, so that it symbolizes the last period I will ever have in my life.

A lot of women hate their periods. I really didn’t until the periods became unbearable. Going into the crone phase, even if it is partial, scares the shit out of me.

Pretty emo for someone of a half-century, I will admit. It’s my crotch party and I’ll cry if I want to…

While my first inclination, as always, is to make snarky jokes about the robots coming for my lady parts tomorrow- I can’t stop crying.

Words fail me.

The fact that I’m having essential organs- parts that are meaningless and useless now- that somehow DEFINED THIS MEAT SUIT for me- removed permanently really is messing with my brain right now.

If I leaned more towards the esoteric, I could just say this is all illusory… this body, this gender, this glove we wear.

I can’t fucking do it. I am grieving, mourning- an anxiety ridden mess.

All the worst case scenarios run through my head:

What if I die on the table?  What if I am that small percentage that has cancer and it causes it to spread?


Luckily, now very few hospitals combine DaVinci robotic surgery with morcellation:


The entire thing is usually pulled out of the vagina, presumably after the robotic bits sever the organs from their places.

Still, fucking scary.

My friends and family who have gone through this say it’s a piece of cake- I will no longer be in constant pain, I will love it, etc.

As a consolation prize, they will take my fallopian tubes and keep my ovaries- as long as I agree to ultrasounds every 6 months to monitor the cysts. This means I can go into eventual natural menopause and not instant menopause, as I have Factor V Leiden and can never use hormone replacement.

Also, what makes us female? Is it biological, is it physical, is it a dangly bit of spongy flesh in our innards- is it a hardwiring of of hypothalamus? Is it a spiritual choice made prior to incarnating?

WTF IS it?! Do I become some gender fluid, non-pronoun using being after this?

I don’t know why I am so hysterical right now- I just know that I am.

I know I won’t cease to be ME, who or whatever that may be (unless I die, of course).

I surely didn’t freak out like this when they took my gallbladder almost 2 decades ago.

I’m just scared, I guess. Scared shitless.

My stomach is fat, like a woman 4-5 months pregnant- the adenomyosis has me swollen like a tick on a dog.

I feel miserable. This procedure is supposed to make it all better.

I hope it does.

Losing pieces of ourselves, I wonder if zombies feel the same way, if they were real and could think.

“Oh, shit, my whole crotch just fell out… need more brains…”

Yeah, I need more brains.


Guilt and Waking Up at 3 am

Tonight I didn’t answer the phone when my mother called repeatedly from the psych ward at Lakeland.
I wanted to have one night this week where we could pretend life was ‘normal’ and not falling down around our heads- so that we could all enjoy Halloween and not spend it crying.
She left a ton of messages on my voicemail, each wondering if I knew she was in the hospital.
I woke up abruptly from sleep,with this huge sense of dread and guilt weighing heavily upon me. I wouldn’t even call it guilt- it was remorse. Stomach churning, benign neglect of another human being. I have been doing this a lot lately- just to try to save my own sanity- and it makes me ill inside.
I could tell that she didn’t remember her previous calls and it scared me. I could clearly hear the panic and confusion in her voice, the not remembering part… and it was heartbreaking.
What a difference it was from our visit with R’s 93 year old grandmother tonight! She lives alone and is only a bit forgetful, but otherwise sharp as a tack. It almost served as a painful foil, a bittersweet contrast.
My mother is 20 years younger than Nana. This monster that has consumed her entire life, seems to be now eating away at her brain, like pac man.
It is hard to distinguish the bipolar, the mental illness, from the dementia- she is so clever and sad and angry and anxious and lonely. She is still HER inside of her core and it is going away bit by bit.
Tomorrow, I finally head to the courthouse to apply for guardianship. We had been ill (and I’ve been depressed) since the previous week, so it hasn’t been done yet.
If you ask me how I feel, I’d say so sad. I feel as if this is my lot to bear, not because I truly love or respect or even feel like she was or is my parent- but because she is my parent, I have to do this. I don’t know if this makes any sense to anyone else.
I would never want my children to feel the same apathy that I do about my parents. All of this, including Maisie being born so recently, has given me a second chance to re-examine my relationships with my family, myself, and those around me.
Unfortunately, I come up lacking in so many regards, but I know I can fix ME. I can’t fix her or my dad or my siblings.
I wish I could make them love me or me them, really.
I wish I had a magic wand to fix this for everyone.
My only solace is giving my 2 youngest kids the magical childhood- as much as I can- and love that I wish I would have had myself.
I thought I felt better today… and I do… but I am kind of upset to have woken up crying at 3 am, sad all over again and typing.
The people who know me in real life know that I am not prone to being this weepy mess- so it is really bothering me to feel this raw and exposed.
So, like any brave Aquarian would- I’m going to go with it and try to learn to love me and be authentic.
If anyone else is going through similar, I want you to know you’re not alone.

Confessions of a Makeup Hoarder: It’s Time To Organize My Stash… And It’s The Most PAINFUL Thing For Me To Do.

pic is not actually *my* makeup, but you get the idea...

pic is not actually *my* makeup, but you get the idea…

I am a makeup hoarder. I admit it.

Am I the only one out there who has this same problem?

I think it started with my mother, who is an obsessive compulsive Filipino EVERYTHING hoarder. She used to get those Cosmetique monthly makeup subscriptions in the mail way back in the late 1970s-80s. Her bathroom was (and still IS) chock full of every makeup and perfume known to man. She even has lipsticks so old that the innards are a waxy, dry mess- but they are in gold metal cases and probably circa 1940s or 1950s, so she’ll never part with them.

my mom actually owns lipsticks like these!

my mom actually owns antique lipsticks like these!

My makeup stash, which consists of 2 or 3 professional trunk cases, one HUGE plastic 4′ tall cabinet with many drawers, and carelessly tossed beauty bags filled to the brim with things I’ve long forgotten about. I have Nars, MAC, Lorac, Chanel just tossed in with the L’Oreal, NYX, and Maybelline. Some of these cases haven’t even been OPENED in years. The last time I viewed the contents of one particular makeup trunk, I’d used it to do makeup for some stage production I acted in about 3 yrs ago.

It’s THAT bad.

Did I mention that I am not very organized? I always STRIVE to be, but somehow fall short…

small disorganized stash I found in my upstairs bathroom

small disorganized stash I found in my upstairs bathroom

I *know* that I need to throw away about 70-90 percent of the makeup I own. I actually WANT to do this- but it PAINS me, almost physically. Ok, I admit it. It *does* hurt physically.

I’m a mess.

My frugal bits remember how much some of this stuff cost and I cringe- CRINGE- when I think of tossing it in the rubbish pile. It makes absolutely NO sense, but that’s the truth of it.

I did the unthinkable this month and ordered subscriptions to Ipsy, Birchbox, and Birchbox Man in one fell swoop. I figured that I spend AT LEAST 40 bucks a month in miscellaneous beauty products, so it’s a good deal.  However, the thought of having more makeup and product haphazardly strewn around my house frightens me. I’ve already run out of room in my ‘makeup storage area’.

Even as I try to type this, my beauty product hoarding continues.  For example, I bought a kabuki set of 32 cosmetic brushes tonight on eBay. My reasoning was that I couldn’t find half of my (dozens) of current brushes and I distrust my brush cleaning skills. I also bought two 24 compartment acrylic lipstick organizers- they were a great deal. I like deals. I love lipstick… do you see the way my impetuous mind works here? Did I NEED any of these things?!

I found these in my upstairs bathroom.  They are the exact same color.  WHY did I need TWO of these?!

I found these in my upstairs bathroom. They are the exact same color. WHY did I need TWO of these?!

No. Nope. Sure didn’t.

So, instead of ACTUALLY CLEANING OUT my stash, I went on google to find other beauty hoarders.

I am delaying the inevitable, I know this.

Lo and Behold! I found the blog of a beauty hoarding person EXACTLY LIKE ME- I could have written that post- except I AM FAR, FAR WORSE!!


I am going to start small- my upstairs bathroom has my ’emergency makeup’ in it. That is where the first of my purging endeavors will begin.

Wish me luck!