MFA Creative Writing

I told Mike that I think I'd like to get my degree in creative writing. An MFA to be exact. He was shocked by how much a degree "for fun" would cost and then suggested he take his tuning course where he could meet people in person to learn. I told him he should, and then he just got quiet. Was he not expecting me to agree? I DO think he should take his tuning class in person. If he wants all the best help, learning from someone would be the best way to do it.

I thought that might be the end of it, but then I asked him to help me with writing our bridal gifts thank-yous. He said two or three times, "Why should I write them out if it's you who wants to be the writer in the family." 

That wasn't the point Mike.

Just Doing It

I hate to say it, but some days I am good to go. I'm ready for the challenge. I can take on the world.

And other days, I can't do anything. I'm lazy. I'm depressed. I'm lethargic.

This story isn't really something I'm proud of. In fact, the shame surrounding it makes me hesitant to mention it. However, I honestly believe it changed something for me. And it is important. It's something I need to remember, forever. And sadly, something that I need to be conscientious of the rest of my life.

I've had irregular bleeding since as long as I can remember. On the pill, off the pill, it didn't matter. However, after sex, I always bled. As far back as Kirk, to be honest.

Usually going on the pill fixed the problem, or at least convinced me that it was just breakthrough bleeding. I was wrong.

I hadn't been on the pill since Alex and I broke up. For awhile my period was regular, but then I'd have weird bleeding, sometimes it felt like a period, and other time it didn't feel like anything. However, my saving grace is my imminent departure to India. My bleeding had become so irregular that I decided I HAD to do something about it. There was NO FRICKEN WAY I'd backpack through India having to question what random days I'd end up bleeding.

So in November I went to the gynocologist for my yearly check-up and told him about my issues. I had a Pap and was tested for STI's. All came back normal, so he put me on the pill (again).

Per usual, I bled through the entire first month. It was miserable! I called in, but was told to wait one more month. Finally the beginning of the third month, the doctor decided to do a colposcopy, which is a fancy way of saying an in-depth look at my cervix with a microscope. He found some abnormal cells and did a biopsy of the cells. I wasn't too worried until he called one morning, about a week later to inform me that the bioposy came back as CIN II, caused by HPV.

"HPV?!" I thought. I had a vaccine for that. I thought. It doesn't protect against every strain, and apparently I had somehow contracted it. I was distraught, upset and depressed.

It was suggested that I get a LEEP procedure or wait three months to see how the cells progressed. Most cases (80%) of CIN I goes away on it's own. There's no real data for CIN II, which is pretty scary. So I decided to research the LEEP procedure. They take a metal coil, electrify it, and then scrape a layer of the cervix away. Or I could wait? WTF? An invasive procedure or biding my time?

It was at this point that I finally told my mom and Suzanne. They both suggested I come back home for treatment. Considering the stress levels in my life and regarding the whole "HPV" thing, I readily agreed. I was basically beside myself with worry and whenever people asked me how I was, I made some stupid joke or ignored their queries.

The appointment at home was at the new hospital with a doctor I'd never seen. Her name was Autumn. Seriously? Autumn? I was waiting for Summer and Spring to show up right behind her. However, she was really nice, knowledgeable and spoke with the lead gynecologist. They both thought it extremely "freak-chance" that I came to find out about my condition in the way that I did. However, she recommended a different treatment: cryosurgery. Basically they take a tank of liquid nitrogen, hooked up to a hose of sorts with a metal post at the end. And then they turn on the liquid nitrogen for 60 seconds and hold the metal part to your cervix, while you attempt to avoid the awkward cramping that goes along with it.

I didn't have enough time for the ibuprofen to kick in before the procedure, so I went in unawares. And it wasn't too bad. It sucked. It hurt for about an hour... but more like cramps than anything else. My mom was awesome and supportive, but I had to wait for her to deal with some financial stuff from her thyroid surgery while in a great deal of pain. I wanted to yell at her, but it was all my own fault.

For the next three days, I "melted". My skin on my cervix had frozen, dehydrated and died. So I got to deal with the repercussions of that for a few days. It was so weird to feel "stuff" come out of my body, but have it not be substantial or even visible. It was just water.

So now, I get to wait. It's been a little over a week and a half, but I'm hopeful. I keep telling my body that it is healthy, whole and divinely intelligent. I guess I'll find out in April when I go in for my check-up. So for now, I'm praying, in my own way.

However the scariest part of this whole thing was realizing the other diseases associated with HPV. HIV. I was scared out of my wits. Getting my blood tested was one of the scariest things EVER. Waiting for the results was worse. Thankfully I got those back rather quickly. I'm good, healthy and HIV free. I'm lucky. This entire thing could have been worse.

Come one, Come all, Therapy is for us all
Last night, as I lay me down to sleep,
I dreamt me my soul to keep.
I prayed for divine love. I wished for divine intelligence.
I wanted something to free me from this belligerence.
I was anxous, I wanted to cry.
Instead I hoped to say goodbye.
I want my fears to leave me. I need my dreams to guide me.
I need loved ones to abide with me,
this time I'm spending, which feels like wasting.
This degree I'm getting, my coffin, it feels like I'm casing.
I'm hopeless and wasted up.
Empty is my cup.

So yeah. That's how I was feeling last night. I don't know what exactly overcame me as I was trying to go to sleep. It could have been the nyquil catching up to me. But I had this sense of peace. I don't remember what exactly I had worked out in my head, but something of it had to do with counseling. I don't know why it made me feel safe or relaxed, but I felt that I just had to do it.

When I woke up this morning, I was feeling better. I had hope. I had initiative. So I didn't really feel like calling a counseling center if I wasn't in some huge crisis. But I followed my gut. I called the center three or four times in the morning and got busy signals every time. Beep, beep, beep, beeep. I hate that noise. I figured it was a sign that I didn't really need counseling. So I showered, ate, and realized that life was going to catch up to me.

I was still feeling down and I was still feeling anxious. So on my walk to IGB for our group meeting, I finally made an appointment on the quad. It was really weird though. It was some sort of resignation to my cause. It was a little bit like a sigh, but more of a... what the heck did I get myself into? I've known for awhile that I've needed counseling, but I never was able to do it. I don't know what compelled me to go today.

I walked into the counseling center rather stoic (if not stuffy). I signed in, filled out some forms, and waited, playing jeweled... that dang game!

My counselor Kyle was really nice, and we hit it off right away. I could tell instantly that he was LGBT Ally or gay, but thanks to so many different past experiences, it didn't bother me at all. It wasn't even a positive or negative thought. It just was. It was nice to realize that I'd finally worked through that issue... although I do have a feeling that it wasn't my issue to begin with. I think my dad's homophobia tainted me a little bit, and it took meeting some awesome people to change my mind. Many thanks to Bernie, Trevor, Mary (and KC) and Stephanie. Without them, my perceptions would most likely be quite flawed by it all.

Anyways, after intermittently crying and talking for 2 hours, Kyle suggested group therapy, which is probably a good idea for me. It would help me feel not as alone, but then I usually end up feeling like my problems aren't really that serious, and I should just get over them. I don't know how that will end up working out, but after crying for over an hour, anything has to be better than that. Right?

Some of the things that we touched on were vague. I didn't mention my dad at all until Kyle asked me about him. I was surprised, more embarrassed that I hadn't mentioned him. I guess I take my dad for granted and as long as there is no issue, I don't worry about him at all. I should probably put a greater effort into that relationship, but it's so easy for us. We both love each other a TON and when we are around each other, it's very easy for us to show it. It's the time and connection, not incessant talking.

I told him about Suzanne's past health problems and her engagement. I talked about mom's thyroid cancer, skin cancer, lipomas and chronic sicknesses that have plagued her body since as long as I can remember. I talked about Stacy's body image and self-consciousness, and my concern for her. I talked about my thesis, Bruce and all the anxiety that surrounds it. I even mentioned Alex and Carly. I wasn't planning on mentioning it, but it seemed relevant. I mentioned being kicked out as a kid, and who knows what. It just sort of all came out. Honestly, it was like diarrhea of the mouth. And I probably could have kept going. Thank god he stopped me.

I sort of had this huge big sigh after everything was all over, and he asked me if I felt better. At the time, I just felt, well the same. Sort of numb and tired. I felt like I was starting just one more thing that I'll have to finish. But I was hopeful. So I guess I felt a little better.

When I got back to my apartment, I managed doing dishes, cleaning up, etc. So I guess that was an improvement.

I told Stacy about everything and she was really supportive... in that great way that I offered up what exactly I was comfortable talking about and she responded to just that. She didn't pry and I really appreciate that. I know it's my struggle and journey and I should look to other people for help, but it was nice to know that she's there for me without needing to "understand" and "fix" me. I told her she should join me, just to bring a box of tissues.

I picked up the movie Step Up 3, which was a disgustingly played out drama of dance, love and betrayal. It was moderately decent, and all of us (Susan was there too) gagged at the dopey romantic scene. Oh and Stacy made me dinner. That was pretty sweet of her.