Now shit’s just getting silly…

I have polycystic ovarian syndrome.

Look it up. Arm yourself with knowledge to the fact that it’s practically impossible for some of us i.e. me to get pregnant because GUESS WHAT? I don’t have periods. Like hardly ever.

And guess what?

I just got the same thing that is at the end of this sentence. YUP, a period.

I think the last time I had one was in like 2012? I was still working at the college I had also attended.

That was five years ago.

And lemme tell ya, like a period always seems to do apparently (according to a crap ton of conversations I had when I was 13…and 14…and 15….and 16 until my mother got worried and we went to see a OB/GYN who diagnosed me with it), it showed up at a bad time. An epically bad time.

I am at the spit end of a paycheck and I should probably go to the doctor, but I can’t afford to go to the doctor. So as my mother tells me I’m just getting my ladybusiness (at 29 years old), my educated brain says I should probably check things out just to make sure nothing goes wrong, or that it isn’t a ruptured cyst, or that I’m not internally bleeding somewhere inside my abdomen, or that there aren’t alien wombs trying to cling to the lining of my uterus (because that’s how it feels).

And there’s the other fun part! Am I freaking out for no reason? (probably, but don’t judge me) Or am I just having a regular period and I’m just not used to the normal pains that go with one?!


So while I’m chugging chocolate ice cream at night to curb chocolate cravings, having illustrious dreams about Brad fucking Pitt, wanting to stick icicles through my stomach just to soothe the pain emanating from my uterus , breaking out like a mutant teenager, and having emotional roller coasters in the back of District Court today (I felt really bad for one recidivist whose abuse with alcohol is just so sad), all the while wondering what the FUCK is going on my sub conscious mind after the HELL I’ve been through in the past month… I’m just supposed to accept that my baby-maker is just magically working for a week?

I’m befuddled. I’m beyond befuddled. I’m befuckled. That sounds like something Ricky from Trailer Park Boys would say, so on that merit, I’m keeping the reference.

That being said, I want to salute to all of you women. All of you beautiful, regularly-flowing ladies out there. I cannot imagine. CANNOT. IMAGINE. this shit happening once a month. Holy butt-bald baboons. I am a fucking baby when it comes to this cramp stuff. I’m I’m hardly even flowing. Keep in mind, those are rusty pipes down there if you know what I mean.

(Full-disclosure, if you’re grossed out, go eat some strawberry yogurt and watch Look Who’s Talking or something, get the fuck out of here and let me talk.)


Either way, I’m just thankful I can lay low tonight and not be bothered by anyone. Because I would probably kill anyone who tried to instigate any type of human contact right now. Except my kitties.

I love my kitties.

Photo on 6-5-17 at 5.48 PM.jpg

Now, I’m gonna go watch Xenia and read poetry by Kim Addonizio and listen to Bikini Kill.

Damn pre-existing conditions.


May 28: A hopeful outlook

It has been 33 days.

And I can see glimmers of hope, if I stay focused.

I’ve been reading “The Subtle Art of Not Giving A Fuck” by Mark Manson, plus I went on a three-day retreat to Deerwood, MN where I learned about Positive Community Norms, a type of positive-based thinking approach to pretty much anything in life (but this, specifically, is directed towards prevention in teenage alcohol abuse) by Dr. Jeff Linkenbach. Cool dude, incredibly insightful. It’s my belief that the series of events I’ve experienced in these past 33 days along with the combination of exposure to the relevance of the book and the retreat to what is going on in my mind has created the ability to pull things into perspective.

That sounded long-winded, but this is more for my own record keeping than anything else, so there’s that.

Dr. Linkenbach’s work is based in this framework of “Spirit, Science, Action, and Return” along with his “Seven Core Principles” of what he calls Science of the Positive, which are Be Positive, Be Present, Be Perceptive, Be Purposeful, Be Perfected, Be Proactive, and Be Passionate. These two areas of his work actually work together. It’s incredible that I was given an opportunity to learn this information. So, quick shout-out to the state of Minnesota and their Department of Human Services- Alcohol and Drug Abuse Division. It really opened my eyes to how I, myself, view things in the world and what a jaded perspective I have on some areas of my life. This specific retreat was about data we had collected from students in our school district and how to share that data with the public. And there’s a lot of communication between the grant work and the public so we were kind of learning how to talk to people, if you will? And it was beneficial to see. When someone gets defensive about something, I now have a way to respond without getting defensive, myself. That’s kinda cool.

Here’s some more info on Dr. Linkenbach’s work, if you’re interested:ย

And, during one of our activities, we were asked to share some struggle we’d met and share it with someone else so we could practice being empathetic. I saw one of the gals I’d connected to pretty well having a pretty hard time with this exercise in particular. It was a moment I hope I don’t forget. We’re pretty much strangers, and I saw her crying, her peers were gently rubbing her shoulder, but I could just tell she was looking for a way out of the room, so I went to her and asked if she wanted to go outside for a smoke. I don’t smoke, but I know she did. So we went outside and I’d found out she was going through a world of hurt, herself. There’s more to it, but the main point I wanted to get across was that being human to one another comes first, above anything else. It’s EASY to show anger, or frustration, sorrow, and sadness, but empathy and compassion and understanding take more work, and thus, are seen far less frequently. And those traits are essential to our humanity.

Photo on 5-28-17 at 3.21 PM.jpgAnd the book I’m reading is showing me how I can narrow my need and desire to care about so much in a progressive way that gives me direction and intent behind it. Mark Manson talks about the scientific nature of why our minds have become shaped in the way that they have. He speaks that we all have had diversities in our lives that have jaded our perspective and made us privileged in even the most basic ways in our thinking.

It’s helping me to see how to categorize my angry, depressive thoughts and use that energy with purpose. These tools are also showing me that mistakes are going to happen in life, and we truly must try to learn from them (no matter how painful the experience) and live a life with intent instead of mindless meandering.

It’s funny. I think that’s what my mind and spirit have been doing for quite some time. And I look at the title of my blog, “Finding meaning in the mundane,” and it’s true. Without purpose, or intent, or a need to give a solution to a problem, we are in a constant state of dissatisfaction and flux. And that’s totally okay. But that should not stop us from finding that meaning in the most basic things.

For example, yesterday, I got a cake for my friend Steven. He’s moving to Tennesee. I also got party hats and party favors and bubbles. It wasn’t a big deal to celebrate, but it was something to be silly about. And the bubbles. Those bubbles have been putting so much joy into everyone who has used them. I got a big beach bouncy ball for tomorrow’s Mullaly Memorial Day picnic, too, and I was having fun in the backyard with that, as well. An opportunity to have fun is to be embraced, for that moment is fleeting. It’s okay to enjoy, without self-sabotaging yourself with bad habits and temporary highs. We have to take those moments when they come and embrace it. And potentially even share it with others.

It goes back to my favorite Ralph Waldo Emerson quote.

“Be not the slave of your own past. Plunge into the sublime seas, dive deep and swim far, so you may come back with self-respect, new power, with an advanced experience that shall explain and overlook the old.” -R.W.E.

Just a good reminder that not all days are bad. Since I came back on Thursday from this retreat, I’m going to be positive and present and perceptive and purposeful all while not giving too much of a fuck about things I can’t control.

Everything hurts

Each day that passes, I try to distract myself from the images that replay in my head over and over. My senses have dulled. The depression is so unbearable. I feel like I can’t do anything right. I can’t do anything without someone else’s approval. 

How do I break this cycle? Where do I go from here? How do I get out of this paralyzing dread? It’s only getting worse with time. 

The Battleย 

Not one, not two, but three friends have called me tonight so far. 

I have maybe 15 hours to myself for the first time all week and I won’t have an entire day to myself for probably a good three weeks. 

Not to mention the epic battle of my true past that I’ve been coping with. The pain, the sadness, the CONSTANT REPLAY OF IMAGES AND FEELINGS AND OTHER TRAUMA RELATED STUFF is so much to bear on top of the stresses of work and finances and watching your parents age not-so-gracefully. 

It’s a mountain of stress. And I have a mountain of emotions and shit to process on top of that?! I totally did not sign up for this. I wanted the scenic route not the black diamond climb. 

But here I am, facing the truths in my past and coping with it every day. Learning from it every single day. Keep breathing everyday. 

There’s got to be goodness somewhere in this valley. Something I can get my grip on to help me begin my climb. 

I’m writing this down so it’s not taking up so much space in my brain.

What if I never find happiness? In anything?

In writing, or being with friends or family, or wearing my favorite clothes or reading books โ€“ what if all of my happiness is gone? What if I have to deal with this swarming, nauseating feeling in my gut? Will my eyes always feel like they’re seconds away from sleeping? Will my shoulders always lay limp on my neck because I can’t find purpose or meaning enough to sit up straight?

Even if the windows are down in my car while blasting my favorite music, that hollow, empty swarm of sadness still sends me to a place of neutrality. Like nothing I do or say or feel matters.

Who or what am I living for? Right now? It feels like I’m just wasting time before I’m dead.

I just want to go home, but when I go home it isn’t home.

My heart burns and my stomach feels so tight and empty and my skin feels like it’s trying to produce its own version of icy-hot. And it’s all for what? For nothing. I really just don’t want to be here anymore.

Tue May 9 1:14PM

Everything feels dull.

The sunshine in May is supposed to feel warm and bright and soft all at the same time, but all it feels like to me? It is the same feeling you get when you go to your favorite restaurant and they’re out of your favorite item, or when you go to take a shower and you try to adjust the temperature but you just give up because you’re in a hurry so it’s tepid and unsatisfying and when you get out, the air clings to you.

I can’t even feel the sun, to be honest. I see it shine, but I can’t feel it anymore.

Why is everyone else able to soak up the glow of the sun? Why is it reflecting off of me like a mirror? I still feel like I’m stuck in January with wet slush tucked into my socks and grey clouds following me with every vividly visible, cold breath I take.

Pain doesn’t even feel good anymore.

I’ve bitten my lip raw to the point of not feeling anything anymore when I bite. I could not possibly cut myself. I can just see myself getting fired for something like that. “You show up here with cut marks on your arms, Katie? Really? Don’t be so dramatic. Cover your arms up and go take photos of people doing things. And if those photos come back shitty, I’ll make sure I gently slide it into conversation every once in a while in front of people so they, too, know how shitty your photos were. Also, you are bad at what you do.”

I’m so tired. I just want to sleep for like five days. I just want to be alone for five days.

I just want to be alone.

Being around people is damn exhausting. I’m so easily distracted. My mind can’t seem to focus on one task. Even now I’m switching between writing this, writing what I need to be writing for, and playing with the correction tape, and my phone, and thinking about 20 different ways to hurt or off myself. I’m being real with y’all. Thinking of ways to die is a pretty common thing in my head.ย  It’s an “anywhere but here” mentality, and even if I change locations, the thought follows. It’s like it haunts me. I can’t be happy anywhere.

I feel my panic bubble under my skin.

Like when Harry and Ron and Hermione drink the Polyjuice potion, and their skin starts bubbling like angry water on a hot stove? That’s how the panic feels. It’s the most eerie, off-putting, distracting feeling in the world. I feel it wrapped around my clavicle bones and clinging deep on the inside of my stomach. It makes me lurch from time to time. What’s crazy is I feel like I go ghost white and pale and whatever, but I swear if I was dying I’d still keep color in my face.

I just want it all to stop. Everything. Just for like… a week… so I can mentally catch up to the physical world. It’s like I’m on a different plane of existence. I wish it came with invisibility. Let’s be honest, I just wish I was a witch in general.


But in all seriousness, I don’t know how much longer I can fight this depression. Every time I think I have shaken it, it comes back two fold. Like a monster made of hot tar. It just sticks and burns all the more. And I think it’s killing me.