Taking Applications For Best Friends

Taking applications for best fucking friends forever ….
1. Must be able to say the alphabet backwards if we’re ever in a jam.
2. Must be able to carry on long, deep conversations with substance, and then not have to say anything at all next.
3. Must know how to have a good time, but not party everyday. Everyday is not a party, and I already know plenty of people like this.
4. Must be willing to let me help you if you get in a bind, and do the same for me in return.
5. Must love gays, (extra bonus points if you are,).
6. Must be willing to go to at least one concert a year with me.
7. Can NOT get jealous of the relationship I have with my husband, and I will be understanding and patient with your kids if you do have any. Also, I will love them and play an active role in their lives.
9. Must NOT throw shade at me out in public or on social media. If at any time you throw shade you must be prepared to throw hands.

These are just a few rules, all applicants may respond to me in message format if you think you meet the requirements.

Change Began With Me

I have a new and interesting way that helps me save money. Every time I get my check cashed I ask for twenty dollars in quarters back.
I have a chosen a giant sized piggy bank crayon that I found from Salvation Army.
From there I have glued and taped the top of the crayon together.
So, when I start to feel temped, (trust me-I do!) I just don’t mess with it because 1. I have tape on the top, and 2. I think about how I would have to roll the quarters back up and realize it’s just a pain in the ass.
After a few weeks I already have almost a hundred dollars saved up just for something for me that has nothing to do with the new house! 
It sounds silly but let me know if it helps you!

The Red Truck

So Trent was driving me to work today and we got stuck in traffic. We got stuck next to a really old red truck. Trent and I had been squabbling about something really stupid. Something about how I’m always running late. The man and woman in the red truck were also arguing. Rather loudly.

“I try honey! I swear! I Try!  On and on and on it never ENDS!”

Trent and I looked at each other and immediately started to laugh.

Trent starts to mimic the guy.
“Gaaah! I try to get along, but you just have to get up everyday!”

The coupled  looks over and realized Trent was poking fun.

I laughed,  shrugged my shoulders, and said, “Married life- Can’t live without them and you come up with more creative ways to kill them everyday!”

They looked at each other and realized how ridiculous they were being. I watch the wife mouth, “I’m sorry.” The husband smiled and we pulled away.

My Early Twenties

Going through my box of memories tonight. I stumbled upon pictures from the year I worked with the Democratic Party.
I ‘ll never forget the time I shook President Clinton’s hand,  and I looked over at Trent and said, “His hands are refreshingly soft! ”
Those were good times. I was so hopeful, and I believed every word that came from politicians mouths. I would fight you if you had one bad thing to say about Obama, (that still hasn’t changed that much, so don’t get cheeky!)
I think about our apartment on Byers, and people just randomly stopping by.
I’ll never forget the time that I came home from work,  I was dog tired, and I had just gotten in a fight with my boss.  I open the door to find my friend Matt slow dancing with our dog!
People were just so bizarre!  But it was okay because I was bizarre!
That was such a fun apartment!  We had cats living and breeding in the walls. (Trent didn’t believe me until the last day we were in the apartment! )
I was the life of the party. I always have been in one way or the other. If I’m having a good time, then you’re gonna have a good time.
Over the last few years I kind of lost that person. I don’t know if it was because I was trying too hard to be someone I’m not, or if maybe the party was over. Either way, its sad and I hate it.

My early twenties were the best time of my life, I wish I could write a book about them, but I wouldn’t even know where to begin.
What were you doing in your early twenties?

The Adventures of The Traveling Vibrator

Let me say, I know that I am not the only person to have an embarrassing Sex Toy story.

Steve Irwin was what my friend Janet had named her vibrator. She would have these long drawn out fantasies about how she would go on these adventures with The Crocodile Hunter. She would help him catch a crocodile,  and then he would pin her up against a wall, and then just plow the fuck out of her! Later, my friend would say that she went into a severe depression for days after he had been killed. She would go on to retire Steve Irwin, saying, “It just isn’t the same.”

Before,he so tragically was killed, Janet said that Steve Irwin had been missing for days. She couldn’t figure out where in the world it had gone to. For days she rifled through all of her belongings trying to figure out where she had placed her Steve Irwin!

One day, while bringing the groceries in, she saw her two boys standing in the middle of a group of children. Janet,  both curious and worried,  went up to the group of children standing around her two boys. Janet, looked in horror as she realized what her own children were doing to her! Apparently they had sat up their own side show attraction/ modern day lemonade stand/ peep show, where neighborhood kids would charge to see, (You guessed it,) Steve Irwin!

Crikey!

My last move before moving in with my husband I was limited on time to pack and was also short of hands. A friend of mine had said she would ask some friends of hers from church if they would help me move.  My friend Wayne had just moved out of my apartment. While he was there Wayne  had been using my dresser to place all of his personal items

Wayne, had prided himself on his collection of sex toys. He had all different types of sizes,  and shapes, and colors!
Oh my! 

Because we were short on time and hands I just thought we could move the dresser, and I would sort everything out later.

So, these two teenage boys are loading up my dresser on to the truck,  and what should happen next?  One of the boys lost footing and the dresser door came open to reveal, not only Wayne’s extensive collection of gay pornography, but SEVERAL dildo’s!

The kid looked at the contents of the drawer, looked at me, looked back at the drawer,  and closed it, Not saying a single word. To this day I look back in horror wondering if I have scarred this innocent church going boy for life.

Thanks, Wayne.

Another friend of mine Lana was living with her father after she had recently moved back from Indianapolis. Her kids had been going through her purse trying to dig out change, but it so happened that her purse was where she kept her vibrator!
Lana was a single mom, and she was putting it in her purse because she wanted to avoid anyone finding it in her drawer.

Her son, who was five years old, grabbed it and took it out of her purse.
Her father was in the living room watching TV.
The son went in the living room and sat it in her father’s lap!
The father, realizing what it was, and too embarrassed to say anything, very politely wrapped it up with its cord very neatly and handed it back to Lana. Lana would use this as motivational tool to find a new place as fast as possible.

Or, there was the time I went to visit my sister in-law Stacey. She had a huge black eye!
“What happened?” I screeched.
“Your brother hit me in the eye with my vibrator,” she said in a long, drawn out southern accent.
It turned out that they had gotten a little too into it sex one night. 
For two weeks Stacey went around saying,  “My husband hit me in the eye with my vibrator!”

Which brings me to my story. My story, so awful, that I often am laying in bed at night,  and will wince at the mere thought if it.

I had just brought my puppy Henry home a few days ago. My husband was very sick, and I asked a local Catholic church if they could possibly come to my house to interview me to see if I qualified for assistance. If you qualify they will help you make your electric payment if you are about to be disconnected. We were about to be disconnected.

I never really know what to say to really religious people. I feel like I’m having to hold back the entire time, and I think that most of the time they don’t know how to handle me either.

The man that worked for the church was very kind to me, and he talked to me about my experiences with Christianity and what it meant to live a Christian life. He started to ask a little more about me. Well, I didn’t really know what to say.
I thought,  “Oh hey! I can show him the dog! You can’t go wrong with a dog! ”

“Henry! Come here, Henry! ” I looked at the man and very proudly and awkwardly proclaimed , “I have a dog!”

Henry staggered into the room and he had something purple in his mouth and I couldn’t quite make out what it was….and then I figured out what it was. It was Barney – my vibrator!

I stared in horror as Henry dropped the vibrator in the middle of the floor. It turned on and started flopping around like a freshly caught fish.
But, no! It didn’t stop there! Henry, still a baby, didn’t understand why it was flopping around. He started barking uncontrollably. I can’t tell you how quickly I leaped,  scooped Barney up, and made a hail Mary pass to the bedroom!

It turned out Henry had very curiously made his way to my night stand and had dug out my vibrator. When I replay it in my mind now I think, that would make a great pop up book for adults!
It could be about Henry running around town getting into adventures and making friends with my vibrator….(palm face,).
I looked at the man, praying to God that he didn’t see the same thing I just witnessed. If he did he didn’t utter a single word about it.

He very politely excused himself saying, “I hate to leave, but I have a few other places I have to be today.”
It may have just been in my head, but he wouldn’t look me in the eye either.

“Wait!” I called after, “Can you still pay my bill?”

I want to know what your embarrassing Sex Toy stories are. The more embarrassing the better!

I think I may make this into an adult pop up book series, what do’ya think?

I Stabbed My Brother

For as long as I’ve remembered, I’ve never fully gotten along with Brent. Brent is my brother and he is 12 years older than me. When I was 13, and my Mom got sick, Brent moved back home and took on the responsibility of taking care of her. 

Only he wasn’t really taking care of her. She was dying. She was so sick she couldn’t walk from the bed to the bathroom. No, Brent said he was moving back to help take care of Mom, but really it was for his own alterior motives. He was living there rent free, and then he would bring these dumb bitches back to the house right under mom’s nose and he’d fuck them in the house. 

When I was 13 Mom got really bad. One night she had taken a bath and was sitting on the side of the bed trying to get dressed. She went to sit on the bed and I was trying to help her. I put her shirt on her and then went to put her pants on. She laid there.  “Momma, I need you to stand up so we can put the rest of your pants on.” She stood up, and as soon as she did she lost her balance and fell. She started talking to me, “Don’t panic Maegan. I am okay. I don’t think you’re gonna be able to get me up, so I need you to call Brent.”

I ran and got the phone and dialed for Brent.  It rang a million times and he just wouldn’t answer his phone!  I left a thousand voicemails it seemed. “Brent,  momma fell on the ground and I don’t think I can get her up and she’s naked!” I screamed.

I went in the bedroom with Momma. “I can’t get a hold of him.” I got a blanket and I put it under her to try and shimmy her up. “Come on Momma, just shimmy your butt my way!”

Momma tried but she couldn’t.  I stood up and tried to lift her myself, but I was only pulling her arms and hurting her more. I started to cry, “I’m sorry Mamma!” I put the blanket down next to her and lay on the cold floor.
“Come here baby.”

She was so weak. I lay next to her and she comforted me. It was 8PM and I still couldn’t get a hold of Brent. At nine he answered the phone long enough to say, “Leave me alone, I’m at the movies!”

“I hate Brent, ” I said outloud.
“No you don’t,” she responded.
“No. Mama. I HATE Brent”
“No. You. Don’t. You’re jealous of his freedom. He can go off and leave the house and be away from here. He’s not stuck in this prison. One day it’s gonna be you.”

I lay with Mama on the floor until three in the morning. Brent came staggering in the house with some random.

“Why the fuck were you blowing my phone up all night you fat bitch? ” he said, slurring his words.
“Because Mom fell on the floor and has been on the floor since 7PM tonight.” I said slowly. Afraid of myself. Afraid of what I may do to him.
“Well why the fuck didn’t you pick her up you lazy fat bitch!?” He screamed.
“I think I’m gonna call it a night, ” Brent’s date said awkwardly.
“Yeah I think its best you do that.” I snapped back.

I followed Brent into the bedroom. He picked Mom up in less than a second. “It’s not her fault, Brent. She tried picking me up for almost an hour and then she laid on the floor with me until you got here.”

I had to be at school the next day. Most kids are in bed asleep at three in the morning. Not me.

Mom passed soon after that. Dad was sick too when she passed. Social Services came in the week she died and told Brent that if he didn’t take guardianship over me I was going to be handed over to the state.

Looking back now, I think Brent really thought he was doing the right thing. I think he didn’t want to see his little sister be placed in a Foster home.

So, we got back home, and we all tried getting into the swing of things. Getting used to life without Mom.

When you have a parent that is disabled and receiving money from the Federal Government, if you are under 18 years of age, you receive money, too. It’s to be used on rent or electricity. Before Mom passed, the money was used to take me to the doctor to get my anxiety meds.

After mom passed Brent didn’t take me to the doctor. He didn’t use my money for me at all. When I was 15 in the dead of Winter, Brent took off to Illinois and left Dad and I with no food, no heat, and none of my medicine.

I knew if Dad and I were going to make it through the Winter I was going to have to get a job. I went after school to a local grocery store- Wesselman’s. I got the job, and because I was 15 I had to make sure I got a permit signed saying I could work with my parents permission. I remember going home that night so excited. We didn’t need Brent! In fact, if I saw Brent, I was going to stab him.

I had been off my meds for going on a month the night it all happened. I came home all excited that I had gotten the job, and, I was really proud of myself. I hear screaming coming from the house before I go in. Its Dad and Brent.

“You were supposed to help me take care of her!” Dad screamed.

Brent stood there as I walked in. “I don’t need him. He ain’t running shit!” I screamed getting in his face. I’m manic and crazy and I can see the fear in Brent’s eyes.

“I got a job today. I just need Dad to sign this and then I start tomorrow!” I flashed the piece of paper.

Brent snatched it out of my hand and ripped it in half! I was furious and could no longer restrain myself. I went to the kitchen and grabbed the first sharp object I could find – a pair of scissors. I ran into the living room with all my might and stabbed Brent on his left arm.

I immediately regretted it. I’ll never be able to physically hurt anyone ever again. I still to this day can remember the scissors hitting his bone. He fell to the ground in long deep sobs. There was blood everywhere. Dad picked him up and took him to the hospital. They told the hospital it was an accident.

Later that night Dad made sure I went to the hospital too. The doctor got me back on all my meds and I started to feel right again.

Brent and I still don’t talk much to this day. In fact it was a miracle that we made it through me turning 18. I often think back on that night that Mamma and I were laying on that cold, dark floor, waiting to be saved. I was jealous of his freedom, and she was right, I finally got my freedom too. And I never looked back.

My Weird Sex Story

Johnathan Lipnicki in his hay days

My husband and I once watched an interview with Cameron Crowe on the set of Jerry Maguire. They showed Johnathan Lipnicki and Cameron Crowe talking about how JLN’s nickname was El Fuego, which is Spanish for The Fire.
Not too long after that interview, Trent and I were having some crazy mind blowing sex. I still to this day don’t know why but out of no where I screamed, “Elllll Fuegoooo!!!”

Needless to say I ruined any chance of getting off that night. But, we both got a good laugh.

What are your weird sex stories?

My Secret Shame

I have a slight confession to make. I am dealing with a really bad case of mania. I blogged about my insomnia last night but its a little more serious than I let on. I choose not to take the meds that the doctors give me because they effect my moods and make me very suicidal.

It has been seven days, and I haven’t slept, and I haven’t eaten in three days. I took a melatonin about an hour ago and I am feeling a little better.

In the past I have actually really hurt my self while in a state of mania. Mania is almost like a natural high. only, it can become uncontrollable and fast. You feel like you are unstopable, like you are invincible.  I once broke my foot because I jumped out of moving vehicle. I remember people told me I was talking really fast and that I was getting louder and louder.

Doctors often confuse mania with someone that is on drugs. Because Meth is so bad in this area of the country,  doctors OFTEN  immediately come into the room and have a preconception of you and it can make it hard for you to be treated.

The main way my doctors used to treat my mania was with Benzo’s…if you know me then you know that I have suffered from anxiety my entire life. And I say suffer because,  anxiety is the ROOT of my problems, from that root grows problems with compulsion,  obsessive thoughts, RACING THOUGHTS, and so much more.

Inner peace is what I pray for every night, and the people that I know love me, they pray for it too because my anxiety has a way of affecting other people around me.

…..Most Doctors around here won’t prescribe benzo’s anymore because they were finding that people were becoming heavily addicted to them.

But, if you have a real anxiety problem,  and you live around here,  you know that the doctors around here were handing it out to people like candy. It didn’t matter if people didn’t need to be on them.

So, the doctor’s are handing them out left and right and then all of a sudden they are realizing that they have a huge problem on their hands.

So they take them away. They tell people that there are ssri’s and anti psychotics  that can help in the.treatment of anxiety. 

….but the problem is everyone’s brain chemistry is not the same. 

I truly don’t need SSRI’S …they make me manic. And I won’t take anti-psychotics. I have had really bad experiences with doctors trying to experiment with newer medicines on me. And unfortunately it is the newer meds that they start me on because once again, I hand been on all of the older meds because my doctors have been trying to get my anxiety right since I was six.   Anti psychotics  are meant to retard your senses.

There is s secret shame that you carry around with you,  knowing that your brain doesn’t work like everyone else.

The speeding thoughts sometimes turns in to thoughts of paranoia. 

It can make it really hard for you to want to trust anyone.

A few years ago, my anxiety became so bad I was afraid to leave the house. I became a shut in, and I am so sad to think it was the last year my Dad was alive. I hate that the last year of his life he was stuck up in my apartment with me.  Trent was pretty much my care taker instead of my husband. It all came to a head on Fourth of July weekend that year. Trent found me in the bathroom and I had swallowed a whole bottle of Tylenol PM’s. I just wanted to stop thinking, I wanted the peace to come, and I wanted freedom.

I was put in the hospital,  and I remember my dad coming to visit me. Dad had.a stroke back in 2006, and he was not in good health at all. Hr sat next to me. And then he started to cry. “You are not the girl I raised. I want to die knowing you are going to be okay. I don’t have much longer.” He grabbed my arm,  “I. Don’t. Have. Much. Longer.”
He continued, “I need to know that you are going to be financially okay. I need you to be the fourteen year old girl that went out into the world when her mom passed away, and not be afraid to find a job to help your family.”

He started to cry and looked as if he was trying to piece together a puzzle.

“I know you know you think too much. I know you feel what everyone around you is feeling. I do too.  I know because you are my daughter and I have loved you your entire life. I know sometimes, you carry other people’s struggles with you. ” He looked down in shame. ” I know you carry my struggles with you. You can’t. You have got to let me go…I shouldn’t have lived when I had my stroke two years ago. You have got to let me go. I need to die knowing you are my fearless daughter again. The girl that is like Teflon. ”

“Daddy, what if I can’t be that girl How do I get back to where I need to be when I am this far gone?”

I started to cry and he held me as tight as his left arm that had been affected by  the stroke would let him.

“It isn’t going to be easy….we’re going to start off small, and we’re going to grow from there. Every time your mind starts to race you write. Get it on paper. Get it out of your mind. That way your not being held hostage by these thoughts. They won’t be running around in your mind all day.”

I was released from the hospital after seven days. I found a job at KMart immediately after, my marriage slowly was becoming okay again,  I was becoming the old me again.  And because they chose not to prescribe benzo’s, I chose not to take meds at all. When I would have a trigger and I would start to talk in a loop, or think in a loop, I would pinch my kneck three times for good luck and write it in my journal to acknowledge that the thought was there, but I wasn’t going to let it hold me hostage.

Usually my obsessive thoughts don’t get really bad unless I don’t feel like I’m in control. Right now, although my life is better than it has been in a really long time, I still struggle when there is too much of an upset in my environment , when I make a slight mistake, when there is a lot of change. Obviously,  it’s change for the better, but my mind is having a hard time getting settled.

I just want to be completely honest with you. There is so much more to this story, and I promise to be completely honest, (it involves me stabbing someone,) but right now I am actually starting to get tired.

I will end on this note: although benzodiazapines are highly addictive,  the studies show across the board that they are EFFECTIVE and help people that suffer from long term generalized anxiety disorder, (when taken on an as needed basis). Everyone is not the same  and although I have always had problems with anxiety, when I was medicated PROPERLY, I did not have problems with mania, paranoia, and agoraphobia. These are newer problems that are a result from me NOT being on anxiety meds.   It is a shame that there is a medicine out there that can help make my condition easier, and doctors can write prescriptions to make my condition easier, and yet they choose not to…our mental health system is severely flawed.

Tick TOCK

Well, its 3:31 AM, and Trent just went to sleep.  I am going on my sixth night of not really sleeping.  I am battling major insomnia. Don’t get me wrong, I come up with the best ideas when I don’t sleep,  and I have been getting some HELLA amount of writing in the last few nights,  but DAMN, I feel like I might be about to lose it! I have had a lot on my mind lately, a lot of obsessive thoughts, and I am having a really hard time shutting my brain off. I seriously am about to go the doctor and tell hiM DRUG ME!  I probably would have already if I didn’t do such weird shit the last time I was on a sleep aide.

About a year ago I had been on Ambian for only a month, and I got a bill from my PayPal account saying I had purchased a bunch of picture frames. Like, not three or four-but fifteen.
I call PayPal and I am just raising all kinds of crap. I’m screaming and the it’s making me even more angry that the lady I am talking to is so adamant that i have actually purchased these fifteen picture frames. At one point I thought I was going to get a terroristic threat charge against me. Trent comes in the room and says, “Mae, what’s wrong?”
I’m still screaming trying to explain what’s going on. “PayPal charged us for fifteen picture frames! This bitch on the phone isn’t listening to me!”

“….Mae. Hang up the phone.”

“Why? We’re not getting charged for something we didn’t buy!” I screamed.

Trent took the phone from me and hung it up. I started to scream and he put his hand over my mouth.

“Mae, you woke up in the middle of the night about a week ago and you started going through all of our pictures. You started talking about wanting to make a timeline on the wall of our lives together and you wanted to get matching picture frames to do it. You got online, and I was trying to talk you out of it, but your mind was set on those picture frames. You ordered them, and then passed out on the floor in a huge pile of photos.  I then got you BACK in bed, and it took me a good hour to get the photos put away.” He finished.

I stood there in shock.
“Wait, why the hell haven’t you said anything to me? That was a week and a half ago.”

“I don’t want you yelling at me! Listen to how you just talked to that poor PayPal lady! I just let you do what you want, you’ll eventually tire yourself out.” 

….That is only ONE of my Ambian stories and I probably was on it for only a month.  Apparently I was also really bad about getting up and baking cakes….and eating like half the cake. Which, if you knew how much I love cake, it wouldn’t surprise you that much. What was surprising is, I didn’t  remember ANY of it! Like, I would have full conversations with people where I told my deepest darkest secrets, and not remember ANY of it!

On second thought,  forget the drugs, I think I’m gonna go buy a sleep mask.

I Fell BACK In Love With My Husband

I had my surgery. It was a success! He went in there and it turns out I didn’t have endometriosis! I did have pcod and my one ovary was covered in cysts! They drilled for hours! They also did a DNC. The end result is I’m back to where I need to be. It’s been a month almost and still no period? Maybe it takes a while to restart?

I lost my second job. I was working for picture me perfect studios. They went out of business…..at least I wasn’t fired.

….I think I’m going to have to find a new job. When I came back from the surgery everyone was acting weird. They started writing me up for everything. They wrote me up for the second time for signing the date wrong. That means if I write the date wrong one more time I’m fired.

It’s really hard for me to figure out what I want to do with my life. I kind of know what I like to do and what I’m good at.

I’m good at:
1. Writing
2. Talking
3. Empathy
4. Politics
5. Philosophy
6. Making Lists
7. Partying
8. Facebooking

What can I do with my list?

…Also, I woke up and my legs wouldn’t move. It hasn’t happened since last summer when I got sick.    😦

Trent and I are getting along better than ever. That’s pretty much the best part of everything in my life right now. 

I called and made an appointment for him to see a lawyer for having his record clean from when he got drunk and high and led a liberation for all the local lawn gnomes.

The lawyer agreed and was really cool and said he would do it for 250 per charge. It’s probably going to come to a thousand dollars. We don’t have it right now, but we can at least do one at a time. And then its done and he can get a great job, and I won’t have to keep working these aweful jobs, and I can sit back and be a lazy housewife  😉

I actually enjoy his company lately. He made me an Easter Basket the other day and put it on the bed! It was really sweet!

And we have been fucking each other like rabbits!  You would think we were newlyweds!  His stamina is OFF THE CHARTS! It turns out-of-out a little (or a lot!) Of physical release does a body good! Damn it, it does my body good! I was needing some dick!

I also WANT to have sex with him now. He helps me out around the house now. The other day he mowed the lawn AND I DIDN’T HAVE TO NAG HIM ABOUT IT UNTIL I’M READY TO SLIT MY WRISTS!

I love that I have the man I fell in love with back again! The light of his love lightened my cold charcoal heart. I can’t believe I managed to fall MORE in love with my husband!

Thank you God!

Please Work With Me, Husband!

What does everyone want from me?!? I’m just one person! I can’t be the only person in this trying to work to better our situation. ESPECIALLY,  because the stuff that is on his record happened before we even got together!  I am only one person! And I am sick! How many times do I have to say get a better job, before I’m so broke down that it doesn’t even matter anymore. I am told that I should be glad he even has a job. Why does he like staying at a job that pays 7.25 an hour? because it’s easy. ….Well I’m glad your one job is so easy on you but because I have to have a second job to afford medical benefits from my first job just to cover him so he can stay at his easy 7.25 an hour job, thst doesn’t provide health care benefits! Oh, and did I tell you my first job just changed my hours to where I’m sure my second job isn’t even going to want me???? What does everyone want from me??? I’m just wanting to feel better!

If You’re Trying To Get My Attention I’m Listening

At the age of twelve I was told I had endometriosis. I didn’t understand what they meant. I just knew it was the reason why my period had lasted for a month.

I have insurance now for the first time in my life, and I decided I was going to take full advantage of it. A while back I told you all I was going to see an OBGYN in February and figure out what was going on with the miscarriages and the infertility.

Then Trent got sick. So, I was going to put off going. Even though I haden’t had a pap smear since I was 21.

I feel so fucking dumb. You don’t understand though. There were reasons for me never going to see a doctor about it. I was a kid when I found out I had endo and my mom had just died and I didn’t understand any of what was going on down there. And then I was an adult and would go to the health department and they would be REALLY mean! “You have had how many partners?’ The judgement in their voice palpable.  I figured,  I’m young, ain’t nothing gonna happen to me!

Mid February I started having pain in my lower back. It kind of was a weird pressure on my bladder that made it hard for me to pee. So, having insurance,   (good insurance, ) I scheduled a pap smear to see if there was a connection. 

I didn’t get into see the doctor until March 11th. The doctor I sought out was the same doctor I had in mind three months ago. He is great. Dr. K comes in and he’s super charming and easy to talk to. We go over my histories of miscarriages. He ask me about Trent. I tell him about endometriosis.  I tell him about the pain and I want to know if it can be fixed.

“How long had you and your husband been trying to conceive? ”

“Almost six years,” I say.

“We have a problem. But it can be fixed, ” he says with such optimism it makes me feel like I’m not alone.

He describes a liproscopic procedure where they go in through the bellybutton and take anything off of my endometrium lining that could be causing me problems.  

“Are you interested in this?” he asks.

“Absolutely, ” I say with tears in my eyes. Completely amazed that there is someone that can help me with this thing that has caused me so much pain my entire life.

He tells me he is going to get an ultrasound, look at it, and tell me when he can get me in the following week.

So I’m having my ultrasound done, she finishes, I call Trent and tell him what they plan on doing the following week. Trent is really happy and I am too. Dr. K knocks on the door and I tell Trent I will call him back.

The doctor doesn’t seem as optimistic as he was before …he looks worried.

….”….How heavy are your periods?”

“Pretty heavy.”

“We need to do some exploration down there. …Your endometrium line is…so thick and hollow.” The more I talk to him, the more pauses are between his sentences. This is not the same confidant man I talked to less than 20 minutes ago.
“It looks like we may have a polyp growth. Or a growth of some kind. We are going to cut it off and see if it is benign.”

I sit there and I nod my head and I leave his office setting up an appointment for the procedure. 

I call Trent and ….I fall down to the ground in tears. I can’t breath. Are you fucking kidding me?

I look up everything I can the next few days. Everything I’m reading is saying the same thing,  once the pain reached the colon area it is never good. That’s with endometriosis, polyps, uteran cancer.  But I won’t even know. So, for the next few days I sit here obsessing over every possible outcome.

I go to the pre op meeting and I talked to the anesthesiologist.

“Have you ever had a surgery?”

“Just one.  I had my tonsils taken when I was twelve.  I woke up during the surgery.”

She had a puzzled look on her face. “You woke up during the surgery?”

“Yeah. While they were inside my mouth. I remember them taking a few minutes to figure out I was awake…” I start to cry. “The last thing I remembered was everyone trying to hold me down. I woke up throwing up blood everywhere. After that it was always a big fear of mine, when is it going to happen again?  When am I going to need surgery?”

She explains to me that it is known as Aware Anesthesia.  She has only read about it, never seen it. What happened to me was a freak accident.  She says the anesthesiologist will be by my side the entire time. He will never leave my side. He will be watching me the entire time.

“Now, we need to discuss your anxiety problem. ” She says.

“How could you tell? ”

She points to my collar bone where I look down and realize there is a huge whelp where I had been pinching myself. Something I haven’t done in years.

“I have generalized anxiety disorder with some obsessive compulsive tendencies. I’be been diagnosed with it since I was 12. I was medicated with Xanax for my entire life until the facility I was seeing to prescribe it was no longer allowed to. ”

“What do you do for you anxiety now?” She asks.

“…Deal with it,  Pinch myself, Beta blocker, Drive everyone nuts talking in a loop.”

“We see that a lot in this town. I’m going to have something given to you first thing in the morning when you first get here.” She says.

I leave feeling a little better about the surgery. It is scheduled for March 21st at 7:45.

To the best of my knowledge he is going to go in there, blow a bubble of gas around all my organs,(dafuq?) And from there he will be poking around and feeling on all my major organs, scraping off anything that is on the lining that shouldn’t be, and removing any polyps he sees anywhere. Was told originally the recovery time is two days, but the more I’m reading, the different the answer to it is.

I’m sitting here tonight sad and angry. I mean, are you fucking kidding me?

I know I’m always talking about signs, but this is one hell of a way to get my attention.  I’m not trying to go to the worst place, but I keep thinking, if its near the colon it is never good. 

Not to mention the time I have to take off from work and the fact that THIS WASN’T APART OF THE STORY!

I feel very out of control and I really wish I could get my thoughts and my mind right before I go.

Meanwhile,  do I really take that bad of care of myself that it even fucking came to this? Oh, that’s right! Who the fuck has time to take care of your self when you are working two jobs and your husband’s sick too.

It wasn’t supposed to go this way.

Dear Universe,
If you’re trying to get my attention-
I’m listening.

The Question

What can you take away from someone who has nothing? Some of my really scary thoughts have been coming back.

My husband of five years Trent was at work and he started screaming of a pain in his lower back. They rushed him to the hospital and they told him he had diabetes type 2 and emphysema. Someday I’ll give you the full story and everything in between that led up to him being in the hospital,  but for now our story continues after.

We had been living in an apartment that has black mold. For quite some time. And so when we found out Trent had emphysema I knew we couldn’t go back there. My father in-law invited us to come stay with him until we could save up for a new apartment. 

My life feels out of order. I’m staying strong for Trent and trying to make better choices, like not giving in to cravings for Taco Bell at 1 am, but damn it, I want a fucking cheeseburger.

Most days I don’t want to get out of bed. Most days I can’t figure out why I’m  so angry,Most days I can’t figure out why nothing makes sense. Most days I hear people talking and I start to tune them out. My mind goes to that place that I know it’s only been three other times in my life. I start thinking that the scariest thing of all.

I hate that nothing ties me to here. You have no idea how easy it is for me to walk away from everything. I’m trying to get better as I get older,  but that scary thought of being able to walk away from everything is still there.

So, it’s 11:42 AM. I have taken the dog out to the car with me, I am listening to Simple Man by Lynyrd Skynyrd and I’m sitting here writing.

I’m sitting here thinking about how The Universe has a way of balancing out everything.  How there’s a whole story that has yet to be told. I am thinking about how there are positives to this situation.  And then I start to break down in tears because I’m tired.

Dear Universe: I know you have a way of balancing everything out, but if you could make it slightly easier for me I would really appreciate it.

The question was: What do you take away from someone who has nothing? The answer: Nothing. I’m still me. I’m still Maegan Hagan. At the end of the day you can take away my home and my money,  but you can’t take away my stories or any of the experiences I’ve had with people.  I am me. I am beautiful.  I am strong. I am here.

#Swag

The Vagina Monologue’s Part One

The Vagina Monologues was written by a lady named Eve Ensler. The Vagina monologues deals with several topics , touching on matters such as sex, love, rape, menstruation, female genital mutilation, masturbation, birth, orgasm, the various common names for the vagina, or simply as a physical aspect of the body. A recurring theme throughout the piece is the vagina as a tool of female empowerment, and the ultimate embodiment of individuality.

….One of my major New Years Resolution’s was to try new things, and do things that I have been putting off that I would want to do.  My body is in need of empowerment right now.

You have to understand- I’ve spent 3/4 of my life putting off my life and telling myself there will be more time.  But there never is.

I have always wanted to be in a play. So, when The Vagina Monologue’s posted that they would be holding auditions for new vagina’s, I thought,  this may be my last chance. And, it really makes the most sense for me to be a part of this production because of all of my strong beliefs about women’s rights.

I saw that auditions were going to be held at a friend from college’s house -and they were really smart the way they went about it.
They decided to split the people up from the people that normally perform and the people that are new to come to the director’s house. This was smart because I wouldn’t have gone because I was always afraid that I wasn’t going to fit in. With this opportunity the setting was more intimate and WAY less anxious.

I have been getting some not-so great blood work back from my doctor’s. It is time to be a little concerned,  but I can’t go around just thinking about it or I’ll make myself sicker.

I am going into this venture with a positive mind set I want this to be an opportunity where I can be around like minded people, be around some strong, bad ass bitches, and finally make life long friends. There is nothing more than getting through a play with a group
of people. It truly bonds you for life.
I went to Randy Howard’s house and I wad REALLY nervous at first. She invited me in and I met her friend and Co-organizer Corrina, and her husband Matt. We actually got to catch up a bit and I really loved hearing about Randy’s experience with this production.

She has been in charge of it for several years, all except for last year when she was planning her wedding. That’s truly amazing to me! I guess it’s because it’s a project I really believe in.

I remember the first time I had ever watched it. I was 15, and HBO had recorded a live version of Eve Ensler’s performance. My favorite’s have always been The Little Coochie Snorcher That Could, Reclaiming the Word Cunt, Bob, and of course Angry Vagina!

I loved hearing stories of her favorite performances of each, and who’s performances had brought her to tears.

The Vagina Monologue’s is going to be an important part of my life because I really am trying to set a good example to my nieces and it’s important to know that it’s okay that as women we can talk about rape, incest, body issues-without being ashamed. We have to be able to openly talk about these things, I want them to be able to come to me and talk to me about their problems. The Vagina Monologue’s is an extremely educated approach to several topics that we as women and young women have been taught by society that we should be ashamed of. 

The two pieces I read tonight were The Little Coochie Snorcher That Could, and Because He Liked To Look At It. I really LOVE the Little Coochie Snorcher That Could. It is supposed to be read in a southern accent. When I went to read I kept going in and out of the accent. It was actually really embarrassing! 

Because He Liked To Look at it is a really fun piece, but there is s part at the beginning that is kind of difficult to real out loud, so I’m really going to have to work on it.

She told me that she likes to wait until she has absolutely heard everyone,  but she should have a cast list by Monday.  She said that she had a few in mind for me.

It has been a really exciting experience so far, and I have been told by several people that Randy really makes it a learning experience, and I will take something away from this whole thing. I’ve heard from several people that she is an excellent director.

That’s all for now, stay tuned!

Upcloseanduncomfortable’s Stats for 2012

The WordPress.com stats helper monkeys prepared a 2012 annual report for this blog.

Here’s an excerpt:

The new Boeing 787 Dreamliner can carry about 250 passengers. This blog was viewed about 1,700 times in 2012. If it were a Dreamliner, it would take about 7 trips to carry that many people.

Click here to see the complete report.

My News Debut

Owensboro Lights Out

Important Life Lessons For Transitioning Yourself Into Adulthood

Let me first start off by saying that the things I’m about to tell you are important life lessons for transitioning yourself into adulthood. 
Did you know that if you don’t have insurance and expired tags the cops can come to your house even when you’re not out driving? Now, I guess what’s the most bothersome to me is that Owensboro had an EXTREME Meth and crack addiction. Soooo, instead of really paying attention to those idiots out there making and selling and distributing Meth and crack right in your backyard, they pick on my husband with a purple tracker that is just trying to make his way to a shitty 7.25 an hour job. I’m not saying were above the law. Obviously,  we’re not. I’m saying that some of us have to take back roads and go out of our way until tax time comes around. Not because we want to, but because we can’t afford new tags, because new tags requires insurance, insurance is expensive,  and most of the time we are just living paycheck to paycheck.  We don’t even buy anything extravagant for ourselves.
A luxury to us is getting to go to the fucking dentist. So, Trent comes upstairs and informs me that he can no longer drive until he gets insurance and tags. Which fucks up my day too, because Trent is my primary way to get anywhere.  “When am I going to get help?” Trent says with tears I’m his eyes. I don’t know what to tell him anymore. I know it’s the week before Christmas,  and there’s only so many times I can pull a rabbit out of my ass. And frankly, I’m tired of having to be the one to figure shit out. So, until further notice, I’ll be walking everywhere or taking a bus. Merry Christmas everyone.

Catfish: The TV Show and My Real Life Catfish Experience

My new favorite guilty pleasure is a show on MTV right now called, Catfish: The TV Show. Let me begin by saying, it’s so embarrassingly amazing! Anyone that has ever talked to someone online knows the horrors of talking to someone who is not who they say they are! There are spoilers ahead so don’t get mad at me if you read something you don’t want to! The MOVIE Catfish was a Sundance hit that documents a photographer Nev Schulman and it follows him to Michigan to meet a woman whom he had fallen in love with that he had met on Facebook. Nev meets Megan. She is a beautiful song writer, performer, etc. They have these amazing conversations, (including a very awkward sexting conversation that Nev describes rather hilariously later in the movie!) Along the way Nev talks to Megan’s Mom and younger sister, who they claim is a famous painter in Michigan. They get to Michigan to find a woman that is not Megan, but Megan’s mother. They go into the house to discover that Angela, (Megan’s mother,) was a very sad woman that was a care taker to two mentally challenged step sons, she painted on the side, and surprise surprise there was a Megan but it was not the Megan Nev had fallen in love with. It was Angela. I really didn’t give it justice, so you MUST check out the documentary Catfish, if you haven’t yet. In spite of all the lies, you really fall in love with the characters! Okay, so on to the TV show. Nev decides to take the same crew from the film, his brother and best friend, and make a TV show following people that have been in long-distance internet relationships, and help the people meet face to face. Every episode has been good! The crazy thing is, the whole time you’re hoping for there to be a happy ending! You want so bad for them to end up with each other! How hard were you laughing from the first episode? You have this really girly-girl type that looks like her name, Sunny. Sunny is in love with Jamison, a model/ tv writer who is studying to be an anesthiologist. Sunny and Nev go to knock on the door and who opens it? Not Jameson! It was an overweight, curly haired woman in her twenties! And Nev ask her, “Do you feel bad for what you’ve done?” When she shakes her head no, I thought Sunny was going to kill her! Okay, so here is another thing I love about this show- Nev goes back after he calms Sunny down, and he talks to the girl by herself just for an explanation. I mean, didn’t she feel bad at ALL, for stringing this sweet girl around and making her think she had met the love of her life? And meanwhile, is that not the cruelest joke? These people think they are going to meet the love of their lives. And it never is! What I really love is that Nev never attacks the girl. He wants to know her story too. What happened to you to make you create this alter ego? It turns out that this girl had been bullied and this on line alter ego that she had created had made her feel in control of her own life. Did I think it was total bullshit? Fuck Yes! Did I want to stop watching? Fuck, no! The next few episodes are amazing, too! I’m not going to talk about them in case you haven’t seen it. What are your real life Catfish stories? Mine begins when I am 15. The boy was 19 and his name was Jeremy. Jeremy was a track star and he was a freshman at U of E. We started talking on AIM. I knew who he was because he had gone a date with this older girl that I was friends with. I hung out with a lot of older people when I was a teenager. I knew this girl had no intentions of wanting to be with him and I thought he was SO cute! So I asked her for his AIM name. She gave it to me, and that night I put in his name and start to talk to him. He asks how old I am. I can’t tell him I’m only 15! He won’t wanna talk to me! I tell him I’m 21. And my name is Jessica since we had already met in real life, and in real life I’m Maegan. We talk for hours on end. He was the sweetest guy I had talked to up to that short 15 years on this planet. We talked for four months until Jeremy starts asking for a picture. I can’t show him a picture! He’ll know who I am then, and he’ll definitely know I’m not 21! And the sad thing is, I had developed real feelings for him. We talked practically EVERY night! And he had developed real feelings for me too. “Why won’t you send me a picture?” “When are we going to meet?” “I really want to meet!” I stopped getting online because I could never give him an answer, and I was tired of coming up with really dumb and lame excuses. Like, “I can’t send you a picture because I don’t know how to upload it.” At one point he tried explaining it step by step! The crazy thing is, we actually at that point had talked in person SEVERAL times. We got along in person VERY well. But I was 15. And he was about to turn 20! I remembered seeing him one day. He was sad. “What’s wrong, Jeremy? ” He shrugged, “Nothing. I’m just talking to this girl. I’m into her, but I don’t think she likes me.” I smile, because he said he liked me. But it’s not me. It’s her. This girl that won’t get him into trouble if they were to ever meet. Because I could’ve got him into A LOT of trouble! I started to tear up and I hugged Jeremy and ran home. I ran up stairs to my room. I turned on my computer. These were the days of dial up when it took forever for the internet to start! I got on AIM. “Hey.” I say to him. “Hey,” He replies. I start to type and I can’t believe the things that I’m putting on the screen. “I can’t talk to you anymore. I don’t love you. I met someone and I’m getting married.” I hit enter, turned the computer off, and fell to my bed in tears. At that moment I wanted so bad to be older! I wanted to run to Jeremy like Meg Ryan in you’ve Got Mail and say, “It was me.” But I couldn’t. After a few months I didn’t talk to Jeremy anymore. Not even in person. A few years had passed and I turned 22. I got on Aim one day and Jeremy was on. I hadn’t thought about him in years. I started to talk to him. Jeremy had done good for himself. He graduated from U of E in Accounting, he worked for a small firm, and he had met the love of his life, Cindy. They were expecting a baby in two months. So, that’s my real life Catfish story. I actually ran into Jeremy a few years later. He was doing really good and he was really happy to hear what had happened in my life. I never told him who I was, but sometimes the mystery is better than the reality. What are your real life Catfish stories?

The Misadventures of My Dad’s Death, Or, How He Gave The Gift of Sight

Last year my Dad died very unexpectedly of a heart attack. It was heart breaking, he was my best friend, and we came to find out that not only did Dad die without a pot to piss in, but he had no life insurance.  I don’t talk about Dad’s death because I don’t want to think about how there was NO dignity to it at all.
 

When I think of death I kind of like thinking about it in a transcendental manner. I’d like to think of death as being Thoreau-esqu.

But dad’s death was waiting days for the hospital to determine there was no brain waves in order to pull the plug because our only neurologist was on vacation.

Dad’s death was my brother getting drunk in his hospital room and having to be escorted from the hospital by security guards.

Dad’s death was me fighting with every funeral home in town because he didn’t have life insurance and my credit is HORRIBLE! 

Dad’s death was me having to hustle together 3000.00 until they would THINK about having a four hour service for him, and agreeing to cremate him because burying next to my mom was too expensive.
And then our own paper The Messenger Inquirer didn’t get his obituary in the paper in time and practically no one knew he had even passed!

The ONLY good thing that came from my Father’s death was he was an Organ Donor.

The day before they chose to pull the plug The Kentucky Organ Donor Association came to me and told me my Father was an organ donor,  and they asked our permission to use his organs. 

If you knew my father, you know that my first response was, “Absolutely. ”

My father was a very giving man, so it was only appropriate that even in death, he chose to give.

They were wonderful!  They came to us and they said that there was a man that was going to give the gift of sight because of my father. They gave me and my brother’s a plaque for his heroism, and they said they would be in touch.

And they were! They wrote us many times in the next few weeks about their appreciation for what my dad had done, and the success of the surgery. Those next few weeks after dads death weren’t so hard because I had these wonderful letters to remind me of what an amazing man he was.

That Christmas was the hardest Christmas of my adult life. KODA, sent me an ornament to put on my tree to remind me of Dad.

So, the other night I had a dream about Dad. A lot of my dreams are with dad before he had the stroke. But the ones after he had the stroke are of me talking to a man that isn’t really my father. It’s a man that’s struggling and it reminds me of how much we struggled just to have him cremated.

So, I woke up and I took that dream with me to work. And I was having a really bad day anyways. I’m still trying to get used to my new job, and some days I still don’t know what I’m doing. So, I’m thinking about my dad, I’m having a bad day, and I get off work and the only thing I really wanted to do was call and talk to my dad. I get out of the car, get my mail, and make my way up the stairs.

I get inside, take all my clothes off and pick up the mail. I got a reminder from my doctors office reminding me of an appointment I have coming up, bills, bills, and then I pick up a letter that’s really heavy.

It was a letter from KODA with another ornament in it to remind me of Dad. I held it in my hand. It was an angel. It was then I remembered that Dad is everywhere I am. I don’t have to call and talk to him, he sends me ornaments!  I started to cry thinking about how he was such an AMAZING human being and how I can only strive to be as giving as him.

And then I just felt better.

The Kentucky Organ Donor Association is an amazing group. Please take the time and save a life!