I was just perusing reddit and a story came up about an anesthesiologist who put his fucking dick in knocked out woman having a (probably emergency) C-section. It was caught on camera and the images were shown with his dick and her face blurred out.

I am again disgusted and terrified of the extent of male sexual violence towards women or anyone they feel they can dominate and make small with rape. I had an actual physical reaction towards the story and the pictures. I feel hollow.

Speaking of men, and complicit women, Roe has fallen. I had a physical reaction to that, also. If one is pregnant and does not desire to be, abortion is the only solution. Abortion is a societal good: no one should undergo a pregnancy they do not want to go through. There are, of course, other, more difficult abortions needed by people who desperately want to keep their babies but abort because their health is at risk or the baby has issues that make them incompatible with life.

Everything feels extra nightmare-y on this timeline, the news is almost hilarious in how bad it is. Like if you were reading it in a fictional satire you wouldn’t laugh necessarily, but you would be amused? Maybe grin a bit? Not as amusing when it’s your reality, your timeline, your corner of the simulation.

I’m not going to end this with some platitude, because I don’t think everything is going to be ok. The climate catastrophe is going to kill a shit ton of people and cause a mass extinction event that has already begun. This particular incarnation of the supreme court decided to dip its toe in that also by allowing less regulation of industry and repealing parts of the clean air act. I haven’t even looked into the details of that yet. In closing, the nightmare is accelerating and de-evolution seems to be occurring.

When I was in seventh grade, I decided I was an adult, and as an adult I had to take a shower every day before school. And so it was. I had probably the most showerful period of my life in the seventh grade. It felt good: I always knew I was clean. It also took me a lot of effort. The next year when my parents separated I was not able to keep up with this rigorous shower schedule.

And it’s kinda been a problem even since, showering, that is.

Like:

Right now, I am sick, but I am literally not depressed at all and I have no idea when I last showered. I think maybe it was last Wednesday, so a week and a day ago?

Should I know that offhand when I last showered? How often should I shower anyway? I typically lie to therapists, I’ll say, “Oh I shower twice a week,” and without fail they are still horrified. Like, twice a week regularly would be close enough for me. I would feel close enough to a successful hygienist at that point.

So anyway this just goes out to all my people who for whatever reason have problems with ADLs. Shit is hard. I see you.

My son got diagnosed with ADHD today, the type that is combo, both types in one person. The psychologist who diagnosed him did so via computer, but he met with my son quite a few times over the computer, he also did an interview with my husband and I, and my husband, myself, and his teacher all did a number of diagnostics. I rated him the highest on everything. It makes me feel like I did it wrong. Or that I see him in the worst light or something. The psychologist said it could have something to do with the roles we play in his life, who knows?

The psychologist also recommended we get our son screened for Autism. I mean, I figured that would be what the psychologist picked up on first. This particular psychologist can diagnose ADHD, and he is only working virtually right now, and he doesn’t feel comfortable diagnosing Autism over the computer. So he did what he could do, and now we have to find someone who diagnoses Autism. There are also more cynical ways to read this scenario involving money, but I mean, having a legit ADHD diagnosis seems to be a net good.

My son’s birthday and birthday party were this week, too. I hadn’t seen cottonwood fluff floating about and was sad: I remembered how magical it had been the year I first remember seeing it, 2004. And how beautiful it was in my waning days as a pregnant person. And then! Just this week, the cottonwood fluff has returned.

The world is so awful right now, like horrifically bad. The worst school shooting since Sandy Hook, and at an elementary school again, too. The war in Ukraine just goes on and on. It’s been like this most of my life now. Atrocity after atrocity and nothing changes. The 90’s were a delite-full oasis in comparison, so airy, so light. We are right back on the nightmare timeline now. Buckle up! It’s more than just de-evolution. Like, it’s somewhat questionable if humans will survive, and motherfuckers are still like, “But what about the stockholders?”

It’s especially bad here, in the USA. We used to say that in college in the days before 9/11, oh it’s going to be so awful to have kids in a crumbling empire. We had no idea it would go this far, like there wasn’t a peaceful transfer of power. Trump never conceded. He thought hanging Mike Pence was fine. It’s so fucking bizarre.

Heaviness abounds. Sigh.

I went to the butt doctor a week ago. It turned out I had gained more weight. I thought I would have maybe lost weight as my rings seemed to be going on and off ok. But no, I had gained weight, and was now in the obesity zone™.

Had I been here before? I mean, probably. No way for me to know: I don’t have a scale and I don’t weigh myself regularly because I can get real weird real fast about my weight. I stand by that decision.

I have tried getting on a scale backward at the doctor’s once so as to not see my weight. I don’t remember if I explained what I was doing to the nurse, but she said my weight anyway, probably just out of habit. (I hope I didn’t explain what I was doing, that would be so on brand) Since this brave act of medical non-compliance did not even help with the situation, I have since consented to being weighed at doctor’s offices. It causes me a lot of stress tho, I get down to base layers and take off my shoes to get weighed (I wear these mega heavy clogs and explain they weigh four pounds every time). I won’t eat before getting weighed and I try not to drink much either. I am fine with my body and my weight until it is quantified. Then if I have gotten bigger I have failed.

I had been hanging out in the upper range of overweight according to the BMI for at least the last ten years. Maybe longer. I hate to say this but it’s true: I was happy to not be classified obese. I felt I might have better health outcomes if I was overweight but not obese, that’s what doctors always seem to say, right? My own doctor never pressured me to lose weight, but he would occasionally note in my blood work when my cholesterol came back elevated that I should maintain a healthy weight. As in, gaining more weight would be bad. More weight would push me into the obesity zone™.

I am sure that at another time crossing this line would have been upsetting to me. But it isn’t because I am actually healthier than I have been in years. Like I definitely wasn’t doing well the whole pandemic, and when I got attacked by a dog and broke my knee (hello physical disability!) in 2017 I wasn’t doing well either (and for a long time afterward, natch) and honestly I had been feeling pretty bad starting on the day after the 2016 election. So yeah, haven’t been super well for a long time.

All in all, the crossing of the line was pretty unceremonious. A bell didn’t go off, no confetti fell, and most importantly, no one mentioned it. Which, thank god. I feel like my primary care physician might feel obligated to say something, I am already brainstorming what to do if this happens. I have thought of preemptively writing him a letter, “Dear Sir, I am aware I have entered the obesity zone ™. I am a Gen-X woman, so I am fucking weird about my weight. I can tell you I am healthier right now than I have been in years. Please don’t advise.”

My anorectal nurse practitioner recommended a “fiber supplement.” Apparently, this means a psyllium husk situation. I glanced at the bag at cvs; I thought I saw the dose was one tablespoon.

It wasn’t one tablespoon. It was one teaspoon. When I first took a sip of it, I was like, this is weird, also gelatinous. At that point I checked the bag and saw how I had messed up the dose. I could have dumped it out and started fresh. I could have drank some of it and saved the rest for later.

I chose neither of these reasonable options. I drank the whole fucking thing. I know I didn’t want to waste it cause I got the extra bougie psyllium fiber recommended as the “best” on one of the sheets I got. Are there other reasons? I feel unsure. I also feel unsure about how my pooping situation will go tomorrow. Like, without a psyllium husk supplement, I pooped four or five times today. Why? No idea, I don’t drink coffee anymore (sob), I did eat impossible meat chili yesterday, but it was only made with one can of beans (mistake). I don’t think I probably drank enough water, and I never do, EVER.

Maybe you are wondering, why’d you go to an anorectal nurse practitioner in the first place? Just due to fucking anal fissures, also hemeroids. But that had all healed up mostly by the time I got to the anorectal nurse practitioner. I had used nitroglycerin, which I thought was an explosive, on my butt. It healed my butt but induced headaches that were horrific. When the tube of nitroglycerin ran out, I was pretty pumped to be done with it.

My stomach is already noisy from the psyllium overdose. I have a haircut tomorrow and I hope my mistake, that I doubled down on, doesn’t cause massive toilet time at the salon. I probably won’t report back.

My husband and I fight more now. He didn’t literally say I had more value because I do more now, but he came close. I get it. Also I talk more now, and at the wrong times for him. Our schedules don’t mesh. Our communication is glitchy.

Yet: it is better.

I am able to be here more for my son and my animals. In addition, I do a lot more of the house keeping than I used to do. I’m also pursuing my own shit: I have this blog, I am attempting to convert to Judaism, and I am going to do my first event for the LWV next week.

I’m also starting with another psychologist tomorrow to attempt ACT for wanting to read more and do more art. It feels a touch ridiculous, but these things are important to me. I’ll be as indulgent as I want with therapy in a crumbling empire on a dying world.

Example:

There is a horrible disease spreading throughout frog populations. Many species will probably go extinct. There will be more pandemics among different species as time goes on due to the climate catastrophe. We are in a mass extinction event.

Happy Wednesday!

It’s Easter. Someone was recently talking to my son about Easter, and he did not know what it was. He is nearly eight. I’ve always kind of found Easter to be gross. Like Jesus was literally mother fucking crucified (one of the more horrific ways to die) and then comes back to life after three days of being dead, which eww, and then it gets celebrated with bunnies and eggs? No thank you. Spring is so baller, no need for a bizarro Christian/Pagan mashup holiday of resurrection and spring.

I literally have no idea how long Passover is and I ate a bagel yesterday which I am pretty sure does not follow the Passover rules and regulations. I am a less than ideal Jew enthusiast/hopeful convert. This Passover. Maybe next time around I will be more on point.

I am here in South Bloomingfield. It is my third time in this cabin, which allows dogs and is near many beautiful hiking trails. The last two times I was here was with my now dead dog Zelda, now I am here with Gozer who I have had a little over six months. It feels very special to be here with Gozer, though sometimes the memories of Zelda are intense; my grief flares.

Zelda escaped here and I just barely caught her, then much yelling at my son ensued: he had been the one who allowed her to escape. Gozer already escaped once in the same situation, it wasn’t nearly as terrifying, she isn’t a schipperke.

May your spring be full of rebirth.

Today is my 43rd birthday. I am doing the best I’ve done in a while. I attribute that to prioritizing rest, learning about Autism, and attempting to live a values directed life ©. I think that’s the term. It’s an OCD term for living your values while your mindscape is a battlefield. I don’t have consistent internet here at the Toadstool, so I can’t look it up. The Toadstool is a funny earthship type cabin where I am spending my birthday alone. I was planning to go hiking but then it started hailing! In April! I am not actually surprised: it snows on my birthday frequently. It was snowing earlier. There has also been rain. Also: it is very cold and gray.

The walls here are thin. There are two older ladies staying in the other portion of the house (Earthstar). I can hear everything they do or say. I have heard them complain of pain. I have heard them burp and assume they have heard me do the same. I feel self conscious about listening to music, so far I have existed here in relative silence.

This is my first birthday I have thought I might be Autistic. My friend who was later diagnosed with Autism told me she thought I might be Autistic a long time ago. I think I got offended when she told me. After some conversation, the two of us decided I wasn’t Autistic because I cared what other people thought of me and had BIG feelings. Later, of course, I learned this not caring what others thought was Alexithymia, a frequently, but not always co-occurring condition with Autism. So I could be sensitive and Autistic. I could be a person who cares what other people think and be Autistic. Though I must say, I am caring less what other people think as I age, and it’s liberating.

I have been reading female Autism subreddits, and much of it resonates. I learned women with Autism frequently have exhausting psychiatric histories: that’s what kinda tipped me off that I could be Autistic. I am waiting to get tested, it’s nerve wracking not knowing for sure. I refuse to self diagnose, I know a lot of people do, but I am not willing to take that path.

Well, it seems the precipitation has stopped for now, I might try some hiking in the cold. Tonight will be my spring trip, two grams of mushrooms to perhaps peek behind the veil. I set off the smoke alarm earlier cooking a smoked salmon scramble, I am sure it will go off again when I sear my ribeye. Birthday love from the Toadstool.

I have been doing many things. For many years previous to this I had been always at least somewhat depressed or knocked down by anti-seizure drugs. I can say that, for right now, I am not depressed nor severely energetically impaired my anti-seizure drugs. It has not been often in my life I have been able to say this. Usually in the past this non-depressed state was precipitated by some grand event: when I was younger it was always falling in love, but I’ve been with my husband since 2004/2005, so sometimes other things can trigger it, getting a dog, leaving a toxic workplace, being in a burlesque troop. I know this state can be fleeting, so I am trying to prolong it by prioritizing rest and setting boundaries. (Ugh I sound like a self help book.)

It’s a different type of existence. I make more mistakes, I do more embarrassing stuff, I don’t manage all my tasks. For example, I haven’t washed my face today and it is nearly 10:00pm. Training my dog has been very hard to get in, and I haven’t been walking her every day either. Today I have done neither dog task. (Sorry Gozer!) Getting groceries, cooking food, and doing dishes seems to occupy the lion’s share of my time. I first put cleaning my AeroGarden out on my to-do list IN AUGUST. I looked at it today, and decided today it still wasn’t the day.

And yet: my husband says I’m thriving. That I haven’t been this well in years. I got flowers yesterday just because. Very little food is being wasted. I am all the way back to attempting to do my part to avert the climate catastrophe. I went to a recycling webinar put on by the county and bought beeswax coated cotton to use in place of plastic wrap, as was suggested. I have been bringing my reusable bags to the grocery store Every Damn Time. I started using shampoo and conditioner bars. It brings great joy to attempt to reduce plastic, it is an important mitzvah to me.

Well, my 30mg of edibles are kicking in so that’s my signal to sign off. Have a good week friendos.

I went to the doctor today for my long suffering butthole and they weighed me, like they do.

I had gained six pounds. This places me around the highest weight I have ever been, the first time when I was pregnant, the second a few years later, and then now. Also, it is possible I have been this weight, or maybe even higher, at other times: I don’t have a scale in my house so unless I go to the doctor my weight is unknown to me.

I was disappointed when I saw that number come up. I stopped taking aripiprazole, which worked great for my mood, due to concerns about liver problems and tardive dyskinesia, sure, but mainly because I hoped I would lose the weight I had gained on it. (My husband was very against me stopping aripiprazole for this vain reason, even with the other concerns). I have no idea if I actually lost weight stopping aripiprazole or not.

Later, I lost some weight when I was grieving the loss of my beloved dog who died unexpectedly after surviving surgery for liver cancer. I just didn’t want to eat during the first few months of my greiving. It was awful, and like nothing I had experienced before: I had always been able to maintain my appetite before. But this particular grief was so sharp, it took away my desire for food. Sometimes, during this period, people would praise my weight loss, and it made me confused because I knew it wasn’t anything approaching “healthy” weight loss that I was going through.

I assumed I hadn’t gained weight when I went to the doctor: my rings hadn’t been too tight (there was a time I had a hard time removing them as my fingers had become too large for them).

I have been eating normally and being much more active since the start of the new year. I have been cooking a lot of my meals, and just doing more stuff in general rather than languishing on the couch. (I still take a nap almost every day though).

And still I gained weight. I am able to be more gentle with myself about this than I usually would be. My commitment to intuitive eating did not waver in light of this new information. I didn’t start looking for places to cut calories. I bought cookies at the store despite my weight gain.

I am a size 14, the smallest fat. I have the most proximity to thinness of fat people, I have the most thin privilege of all fats. I still struggle, my family of origin and the society at large hate fat people. But my experiences at the doctor, in the hospital, on airplanes, and with seating are very different from larger fats. I know all this, and still I struggle: should I put sugar in my mushroom tea? Should I track what I eat? Should I track my weight? What if I gain more weight?

The fat liberation movement has helped me so much, I am so thankful for those who started and continue this critical work. While I was still disappointed when I saw I had gained weight, I absorbed the information without descending into self hate and body hate. I would not have been able to do this without a framework of fat liberation principles. So thank you fat activists for all that you do. May all fats join together to ensure there is access and fairness for all fats, especially the infinifats and superfats.