Defunct

Well, it's official. 

My uterus is demented, and I'm probably in menopause.  My cycle was due on Friday.  Thursday I began spotting, which has continued to this day. 

One of my friends complained "I had a very light flow for 3 weeks, my breasts were tender, and that was it".  Well, I've got the light flow and the tenderness. 

The cup is doing the job, catching what I do produce.  I have lots (to me) of cute pads if I want to lose the cup completely, but I'm not willing to risk it on a church or work day. 

Church today, work tomorrow.  I'm washing my cup right now.  Female wash, in the sink, very hot water.  Then I let it air dry overnight.  My flow is light enough I can do this. 

I should have another cup coming eventually.  Oh, God, please don't let that one pop open at work.  That would be awkward.  "Hey, Heather, we found your ah, thing?" 

"What does it do?" 

They would probably never buy my snacks again! 

I am a little early for menopause, but I read in my Merck Manual that ovarian surgery can cause an earlier onset.  I'm fine with that.

God knows the surgeon told me, himself, "We did a lot of cutting".  Cutting tissue leads to scar tissue.  Scar tissue doesn't make hormones.

Heck, I told him to take both ovaries if he had to.   That was 15 years ago, plenty of time for children if I'd wanted. 

I'm fine with that.  As I see it, only 2 worries:  Bone loss.  This was an issue for someone I know.  I take a mineral supplement and strive to get enough protein.  Issue 2: weight gain.  Like I need that. 

I'll just be more careful with the snacking. 

Second: depression!   Horrible!

I did get to church today, with Ron, but it was a circus.  I love it when I get up 2 hours before the pickup, and they are an hour late.  Then they want to know when the service starts.

We did arrive in time for the sermon, which Ron liked.  "Don't let your past mistakes define you".  He does tend to flog himself over past issues.

I did have a little fun at the store recently.  I bought a swiveling bucket seat lid.

Problem:
I want extra cat food.
Gravy will chew through the bag.
I have to put it in a 5 gallon bucket (the mylar bag of cat food sits in the bucket)
I don't have 5 gallon bucket lids (they stopped making them?)
I need a seat when Baby Girl steals my chair (happens a lot).
I need a swiveling seat when I do Bible prep for the handouts, so I can turn back and forth without wrecking my back.

I had the cat food in a 5 gallon bucket, but I needed the lid.

So: I found, and bought, a bucket seat lid.
Contains the cat food.
Is a seat.
Swivels.
Comfy

$10, money well spent.  I have already used it on several occasions.  Cat food has now become furniture.  It has a green and brown camo pattern, which clashes with my curtains, but I'm OK with that.

I do need to work on the self-talk, especially when I'm depressed.  I see nothing good in myself.   Even Ron says I need to stop talking that way, be nicer to myself, etc.

If he notices...  Hm.

I plan to get a book or two on Cognitive Behavioral Therapy.

I have to admit, I have such a huge distaste for therapy:
I always had people saying my mother was so broken, etc, she couldn't give me love and attention or even a freaking card on my birthday.   She had been traumatized.

I wish, even now, someone would say "Heather, your birthmother was very selfish and immature".  I would have much rather heard that.  It's like everyone was saying I couldn't be mad at her because she lost a baby before I was even born.

I'm sorry.  But you had me, too.  

Then in therapy for years and years and no one saw I was bipolar, even though I was clearly having manias.  It was all "Bad Mommy hurt you, how does that make you feel?"

Then, after a spectacular blackout and yet more revelations of infidelity (before our marriage, but while we were "together"), I dragged Ron to a marriage counselor.  He totally missed I was bipolar, and I was clearly cycling (he even mentioned something to the effect).  He kept saying I "had to get over the past" even though Ron was currently, extremely, verbally abusive.  I did get him to teach Ron about personal space.  Ron and I gave up on him.

I did have one good experience, at a clinic.  The therapist ran down the abuse checklist and I said yes to all of it (save the sex).  He asked me what it meant to me, if I had been abused, and how that would affect the way I lived.  He let me conclude I had jumped from one abusive relationship (family) into another (Ron).  Him, I'd see again.  He was great.

I am far more likely to trust men, anyway.  In my world women are judgemental,  unpredictable,  backstabbers.   In a "close" relationship, at least.

It doesn't help that all of Ron's cheats were women I trusted, to some degree.

Anyway, trying to be positive.

I woke up with a tail yesterday.  I felt rather tricked.  I went to sleep with Torbie, and woke up with Biscuit.  He had his butt nestled against mine, swishing his tail.  It felt like it was my tail.

Torbie will climb into bed, visit, and then go lay on a storage box.  I pulled it out from under the bed to store some books, and she likes it.  I'm leaving it out for now.

It's all about the cats in my world.

Baby Girl uses my chair, I sit on the cat food, and Torbie sleeps on my books instead of my bed.

It will be interesting to see how the machines did yesterday, sales wise.  We will probably need to do some kind of supply run on Tuesday.

I'm still figuring out inventory for two machines, instead of three.  I either have too much or not enough.