Update on my Guts

Well, as it happens I do have gallstones. I have to switch to a low fat diet (NOOOOO!) and wait and see if I have more problems. IF I do have more problems then it’s surgery for me.

But that wasn’t all, I also got a pelvic ultrasound and it turns out I have fibroids in my uterus which accounts for the heavy bleeding every period, and will get worse as they grow. NOT ONLY THAT! But I also have a cyst on my left ovary. I have another pelvic ultrasound scheduled for August, they expect it will go away because it is a simple cyst.

Anyway, oh joy! The funny thing is what freaked me out about the fibroids was worrying about not being able to be pregnant, which is so BIZARRE! I can get pregnant and have a normal kid even with fibroids in there, not that it will happen. But the idea that maybe I couldn’t, that scared me. It’s fine though. But funny that I panicked about it.

So there ends the medical mysteries of me. THANK GOD FOR Ultrasounds.

Anyway, it’s almost time for bed but I wanted to update yall.

I am slowly recovering from the depression. It’s feeling a lot better.

Phases?

Strange that I left this blog as being written by Thirza instead of Sarain, which is the name I went by for a while during my crazy time when I was still struggling with deciding to be a boy. I decided in the end to be a boy in a girl body, which is fine by me since I like getting fucked in the vagina and having boobs. I am a boy, but a bottom all the same. One more hole is more appealing to me than having a dick.
Still, I do feel I have masculine traits, and I’m trying to honour that more with some more gender bending. I was wearing a packer, like I mentioned before, and I would go out of the house dressed like a boy.
Which isn’t much different than how I normally dress.
But things have changed. I didn’t like how being a boy made me, especially in regards to how I behaved towards the woman in my life. I didn’t like the idea of my female gender disappearing altogether either!
And I didn’t like the idea of my boobs vanishing. I do like my boobs. I like being large chested. And I like how sensitive my nipples are, and I hear top surgery really deadens that sensation because they basically chop your nips off, trim them down, and sew them back on! Eeep!
And testosterone is irreversable. I can basically sum up my apprehension by saying I am not transsexual and am simply transgendered.
Which still puts me in a situation where I could be in danger. Masculine women are still targets of transphobia and homophobia. And I am all tattooed, I don’t know if that makes me look like more of a hard case or what. I wish it did, then people would leave me alone.
I haven’t been hassled since I was a teenager. I was a pretty radical dyke teen. I tried to start Aden Bowman’s first queer group, but even with chips we didn’t have a very big meeting.
I admire anyone who has the guts to be who they are in whatever way makes them feel comfortable, including getting transsexual related surgeries and hormone treatments. But Sarain is an old name and not mine really. I’m a Thirza, through and through. This is what makes me feel like myself.
I sometimes wonder if I will change my mind again down the line, but somehow I doubt it. My struggling with being transgender is somewhat laid to rest by living like a boy for six months or whatever it was. Now I’m simply a transgender lesbian.
My cousin who came out when she was 11 went back to being straight after six years, she said it was just a phase! I think six years is a long time for a phase. But what do I know? I went through a male phase.

A weekend of waiting . . .

I got in touch with the doctor’s office. Currently I have no doctor, so I’m kind of floating around to different available doctors. They wouldn’t tell me anything on the phone, I have to go in to talk about my results. My mom says they wait for you to have a major attack, where you’re like, barfing and peeing at the same time and feel like you’re going to die! And THEN they finally do surgery on you. Oh man! I hate pain. I mean, especially thinking you are going to die. I HAVE thought I was going to die a few times when I was getting panic attacks in college.

But all this fuss, and just knowing it is coming, and having to change my diet, oh man. I’m really NERVOUS about that. And then surgery itself, that scares me. But at the same time I imagine my poor ducts and something getting stuck in there, aaaah!

And I have to get a Partial Nail Avulsion on this ingrown toenail, which is a pretty gross sounding procedure. But someone I know had it and it’s not that bad. I just don’t know if Indian Affairs can pay for it.

I also have to go get my prescription changed, but that won’t cost me any money. In fact, if I had Air Miles I could save up for Berlin!

Ein biere bitte!

I’m getting tired of castigating myself for things all the time. I have to get my head together. It’s just that these changes I wanted to make haven’t happened yet. I wrote all about them on Bipolar and Disorderly. Now I’m depressed and smoking again. I’m taking a break from drugs and alcohol for a while. Although summer always feels like a party time. But realistically if I want to keep on top of this crazy incurable bipolar disorder, I have to stay away from doing that stuff. Even just having a few beers is bad because it’s a depressant, and lord knows I don’t need more of that in my life.

And now I might have to get SURGERY! I hope none of the drugs they gives me interferes with my bipolar disorder medication. Like my risperdone will wake me up on the operating table. Ickky!

And what about this crushing depression? It’s so fucking gross and makes me think bad things. I know it’s going away, it feels like it’s going away. But it’s still a while before regular life is breathed back into me. At least a week longer.

Summer of Health Problems! Craptastic!

The entry in which Thirza’s phone gets cut off

I have yet to hear the results of my ultrasound. I am expecting the worst. I was reading how gallstones form and it sounds an awful lot like my lifestyle. And I have talked to friends my age who have already HAD gallbladders removed.
Apparently you fart a lot while you recover. How embarrassing! I hope I am not recovering with some snotty stuck up person who will scold me for farting so much.
I’m recovering from some depression. It started because I was lowering my dose of antidepressant and my mood got destabilized. Which sucks because I was doing so well. But HOPEFULLY it will be going away soon, I already upped my antidep before the psychiatrist said it was okay. So I have another week or so before I will know for sure if this gets me back to normal.
Depression sucks. It makes everything seem so bleak.
Bleak!
I haven’t been cleaning much either and that depresses me. It’s terrible to come home to a messy house.
My phone line has been temporarily suspended! Fock! i don’t know how much longer I will have the internet for!
I’m in trouble! Poopy! I need to learn to stay on top of bills.
My television got cut off a while ago too, I knew this was coming. Oh well.
Better luck next time.
I have made some videos since my blog was in limbo. I made a video called You Are A Lesbian Vampire. It is pretty funny and got a good review in NOW. It has screened in Toronto twice, Calgary once, and Vancouver this summer. I am hoping for more!
I got to go to the screening in Toronto, the premiere! That is when it got the good review.
I need to work on my videos more. What I also need to do is clean. My mum is picking me up this afternoon for some errands. I could do some work before then, especially since now I don’t know when she is coming and can’t call her!
Well I got shit to do and no way of hearing from the doctor about my ultrasound. They will have to call me at my mum’s.

Awry

I am still recovering from Pride! I stayed up until 3:30 am last night, I am so tired!
I can’t party like that again for a while. I am going to have to take a break, maybe just do some fun summer activities like go to the beach or sit in the park by the river. Eat ice cream.
I need to expand my repetoire of fun things to do without getting crunk. I feel like I’m just a one note girl.
I’m getting tired. I was going to write something glorious that came out of my bum, but I’ve realized I can’t do it. And I have to get up early and go to the doctor’s to get my ingrown toenail cut. Apparently the only bad thing is when the needle goes in. I hate needles and yet am intrigued by them. Not in a heroin way, or in a medical way, more in a play situation. But I am not looking forward to this visit at all, I am terrified.
This is not the only medical visit I have to take this week. I have to go to my psychiatrist’s, and get an ultrasound looking for gallstones!
It’s pretty crappy. I’m 31 and feeling it! My body is now a mess of different things going awry.
I’m wanting some romance this summer. Someone who doesn’t mind that my body is going to hell and I might need to get surgery. My first surgery! Oh woe is me.
I also have work tomorrow, and I worked a full shift on Saturday right between the parade and the dance. I’m so tired now. Dammit, I was going to write something better. Oh well, I will be home tomorrow afternoon to show off my toe!

Bad Habits, And I Don’t Mean Naughty Nuns

I recently, like, this morning, bought a pack of cigarettes. I have started smoking again, and I’m going to quit again. But I feel dumb, I hate my addictions and bad habits. They are starting to catch up with me and cause problems in my life. Smoking itself is one big problem, namely the health concerns, and then the no girlfriend concerns. But here I am, poisoning myself again just because I can’t handle the OTHER issue, which is cutting back or cutting out my pot use. I’ve been trying to cut back since January, and it’s difficult. I’ve achieved some long stretches of no use, but still go back to pothead tendencies.
I have some other bad habits, like getting a messy apartment and not cleaning until I could call those How Clean Is Your House ladies to come over and scold me while showing me how to use biological powder to clean nearly everything.
I’m a mess still. Not emotionally, but I have some bad crutches I have grown used to over the years. Maybe I am a mess emotionally and am covering it up with some bad habits.
Either way, at the beginning of this year I was going to try and make some major changes, and I am still working on them. It’s a long slow process, and not the instant prestochango I was hoping for. I was hoping I would just magically be a better person by January 2nd, smoke free, drug free, exercising and cleaning. And it didn’t happen! I think the process of change is very slow.
I remember when I was a kid the beginning of the school year at a new school always felt like an opportunity to be a new person, smarter, cooler, hipper. So cool nobody would think I was cool. Instead the same old shy person trotted out.
I wonder if personality is genetic.
My father also has one of my aforementioned bad habits, and I won’t mention which one, but I remember it from when I was a baby and I always associated it with nice feelings of being a baby. And now I do it! A lot! Is it genetics, or is it just me?
I wish I was talking about Naughty Nuns instead of Bad Habits.
Which reminds me, my Nun Satan porn got legs and walked out of my mum’s basement and vanished. I suspect a rogue cousin stole it. But I can’t prove anything, besides what other perv would take my smuggled porn?? I had to go to GERMANY to get that comic!
This means I have to go back to Berlin and find that comic.
Or look on Ebay, but I would prefer it NEW! Secondhand porn is gross, and I’m still shocked anyone would want MY secondhand porn.
I do not consider porn a bad habit. I really don’t have much porn. I don’t rush out and buy every new issue of Club or anything.
I’m depressed, and I think it’s about my bad habits. I feel again like I would be a bad girlfriend, just based on my bad habits. Dammit! And I don’t want to twelve step or even two step, I just want to knock it off. Stop acting like a bad teenager. Or twenty something. Or whatever I’m not supposed to be anymore that I’m 31.
Yes, I am 31 now. I actually was in the hospital on my 29th birthday. The hospital, where I painted all the blocks. I still have them, some of them are very pretty.
I have an appointment with my psychiatrist next week, so maybe I can talk about some of this stuff.
I don’t know how much of it relates to my mental illness. I know a lot of crazy people who are messy and smokers of tobacco and pot, who barely exercise and stuff. But is it just bad habits or indicative of something more?
They say substance use is high with persons with mental illness, and then they try to say it causes mental illness, but I think we just like the altered state, especially if the present state is not agreeable.
But I can be feeling fine and still want to get blotto.
I just want to feel like a grown up. Someone who takes care of themselves and doesn’t waste money by smoking it. At least I still have the desire to change.
In other news, a friend I thought I had lost for good during my manic episode has agreed we can send emails. Which is really nice because she writes great emails, and because I have missed her everyday since I went crazy.

Life With Mister

I didn’t know what else to write about, besides maybe talk about my dog, Mister.
He’s laying beside me right now chewing on a rawhide bone. Earlier in the day he decided he wanted love right in the middle of my Tarot reading. And when I woke up this morning, he was patiently waiting by the bed. Whenever I come into the apartment, he does his crazy kissy dance routine all over me. He’s pretty sweet.
He is a wiener dog, and he was supposed to be my psychiatric service dog. Life had other plans. I did come into contact with a woman who taught psychiatric service dogs, but while he’s good with depression, he is NOT good with mania. I was just moving around too much, and he’s a little guy so he got freaked out and spent time under the couch. He slept with my mom instead of me, and I barely slept.
But we’re fine again now. But no, he cannot be a service dog. On the other hand, he is a good companion and therapy animal. He likes being held and he’s very engaging, he keeps me from being stuck in my own head.
He is marching in the parade with me this year. Although I am worried about him getting stepped on. But he’s done it two years in a row. I keep talking with my mum about organizing a wiener walk, but so far it has never happened. Mum just got a dachshund herself, a smooth coated black and tan girl named Hermione. She’s super cute. This is her birthday month. When mum first got her it was so cold and we cut up one of my wool socks and made a sweater for her. She was THAT tiny.
Even though the psych service dog thing didn’t pan out, I still am pretty happy with Mister. He makes me smile. Whenever he’s away from the apartment it feels lonely. I like living with animals.
Here is a wiener dog from the Ministry of Funny Walks!

Pride week in Saskatoon

I haven’t gone to any Pride events yet. I figure I will blow my wad at the parade and the dance. I haven’t got anyone to go to the Dance with me yet, like a friend I mean. I will probably go with my cousin.
I went out to Diefenbaker Park last night with an old friend, where we drank hot chocolate and talked about old relationships and future relationships. Damn she has some intrigue in her life. I feel like I am not getting out there enough. I should advertise myself!
Never mind that, I’ve had several personal ads running here and there, and have only ever gotten a handful of responses that seemed remotely interesting in all those years of doing online ads. And I hate writing the about me sections. I always feel like I should mention the bipolar thing, but I don’t. Not that I wouldn’t, I’m pretty open about it.
It just seems like bipolar almost automatically adds a layer of drama to relationships. You know what I would like to read? A book about how to have a relationship written for people with bipolar. I don’t know if it would help. I used to spend my evenings sitting in the self help section of Chapters reading all their books. They didn’t care, and I did buy books enough for them to leave me alone. I just didn’t want to pay for self help books. I learned all about “I” statements there. Come to think of it, I think an ex read those same self help books because she used all that lingo.
I also used to read all their paranormal stuff.
I had a couple years there where paranormal stuff kept happening to me. That was weird.
It will happen again, I am sure.
I wonder when the world will acknowledge that we’ve been getting visited by aliens!? At Cranberry Flats?!?
I realize this entry is not much about Pride. I like Pride, it’s one of my favorite times of the year, mainly because there are so many hot cuties that come out of the woodwork. I’ve never had a girlfriend in the same city as me during Pride. Kinda sucks. and I’ve never gotten laid during Pride either. And yet every year there’s that feeling, maybe this will be the year me + some girl will collide during pride = sex. Even though the track record is going against me, I still clean up and try to be sexually presentable Just In Case.
Who knows, maybe this year if I recondition all my leather I will win a sweetie! I’ll put it on Facebook, just to make sure everyone knows I’m all ready for someone.
Well Mum will be here any minute to take me to see my dog, who’s just gotten shaved! Little Mister! He’s living with me now and it sure is good having a pet.

A long recovery to today

Well as you can see I am writing sensibly again, which isn’t as much fun as the 200 hypergraphia entries, but oh well. I still find some of the things I thought about when crazy somewhat seductive, but there isn’t much I can do with seductive thoughts besides make art.
My most recent work of art is a video I am currently editing which I got a grant to make about my family’s home lands. Do not ask me how it is going, I don’t want to say. And don’t ask me what position I am taking because I don’t really know much besides I have three hours of footage and need to condense it into a short snappy half hour of family history. Right now it’s 45 minutes long, too LONG! Fifteen minutes I don’t need.
I have been single for the last two years as well, no intriguing ladies milling about in my life. Well, that’s kind of a slam against all the women I know, let’s just say no romantic intrigue. When I think about it seriously I don’t think I was ready to have a relationship, I needed to do a lot of healing about a lot of different things and I think I would have relied too much on a woman to keep me together. As it is now I am pretty together. I’ve been dutifully taking my medication (but forgetting the morning meds now and again) and I have even been working besides the year I got to just be a famous artist. Well, I was working then too, but not at a job. It seems that every so often I get the opportunity to be a full time artist, and then work can go stuff itself. I like working for myself.
The screenplay is finished, although I am open to rewrites if I find a producer who thinks that would be a good idea. I’ve realized that I am not the self producing type, at least, not with features. Too much work and I need to concentrate on the creative stuff.
I currently have an interesting part time job I like, which is good. I’ve been working for the telephone company and I like it much better than call centres, although in a way it is a glorified call centre. But inbound, no more calling people at home and bothering them.
Call centres have been my bread and butter for most of my twenties.
Now I am in my early thirties. It’s nice so far, I feel more confident about myself and I don’t feel self conscious about dorky things having to do with me, like listening to Roxette, which I used to be closeted about, and also thinking Louis Riel was the messiah. Well that’s not really dorky, just kind of interesting. He did say he was the prophet of the new world. He was also highly manic depressive, and I’m surprised no one ever thought to point out that the government executed a mentally ill person.
I don’t mind being called mentally ill, although I notice none of the professionals working with me use that term. It’s always Bipolar diSordeR, which isn’t as much fun to say as Manic Depression.
I currently have a very good female psychiatrist who has gone above and beyond what psychiatric care I have recieved in the past. She’s sent me to light therapy groups, she’s told me to try vitamin d and omega 3s, she sent me to a dietitian, and she even reduced my meds this year when I told her the Seroquel was making me too sleepy to get up in time for work and the antidepressant was killing my sex drive. I did gain some weight, I’d gone down fifty pounds with all the walking I did while I was manic, but I have gained that ALL back plus about ten pounds. The manic exercise and diet routine does not have long term benefits.
I also have a good psych nurse at the community clinic. And my gp, who is on maternity leave now, visited me in the hospital several times to check on how I was doing.

So I have much better psych care than before, no diss to my gp but a psychiatrist has specialised training in matters of the brain and the chemicals that get it to work properly.
It’s funny having one such TERRIBLE experience with psychiatry, like being restrained and shot in the ass with Thorazine in Montreal for trying to make a phone call during nap time, compared to when I ran away from Hantelman and when I came back they just asked me to pee in a cup. They didn’t even scold me!
It’s funny that I’ve had some of the bleakest depressions but what makes me end up in the hospital is always the manias. Some of my depressions probably could have done better with psych care in a ward, but I never went. Thought I could be stronger.
The summer I was in the home my friend Jasmine Turner killed herself. She had scars on her arms from when she’d tried the first time as a teenager. And then she just did it one day. I guess there was a note, but I didn’t read it or hear what it said. I felt bad, like if only I had done something differently she would still be alive. It was a sad funeral, her son was just this little boy and he was still helping fill in her grave. Now he’s in foster care, so sad. So are her other children.
I don’t know if I was suicidal when I got out of the hospital, I sure was depressed though, as anyone would be when their seratonin’s been used up. It felt bleak, like there would never be a time when I’d just be living independently again working on art and making a mess. But it happened. I used to visualize myself standing just below the summit of a mountain, unable to see beyond the mountain but knowing there was some great vista on the other side.
I got a dragon tattooed on my arm, for a few reasons. It’s on my right arm, the Manic side, and is on one hand a reminder that mania can be destructive, and on the other hand is a memorial to my cousin Christopher. He had an obsession with corn snakes so it is made to look like a corn snake.
I am getting another tattoo this fall (I try not to get tattooed in the summers because that’s swimming time and you can’t swim for a month with a healing tattoo) of Cherry Blossoms on my left arm, the depression side, because when I would get suicidal in Vancouver I would promise not to do anything until the cherry blossoms came out in spring, and by then I was usually okay. When I think about it, god, it must have been the winters! I would always get depressed from the grey sleet, and here in Saskatoon, winters, while chilly, are still sunny.
I’ve been trying to improve myself this year. So far I’ve only managed ONE goal, to stop smoking. I really want to exercise and walk my dog more. But I’m not very motivated, I have to admit.
And now for Some Penguins! I taped these Gentoos and King Penguins in Scotland while I was there. I also got footage of a Rhino giving another Rhino a blow job (REALLY!) but Youtube took that video down because it was rude.

After two years of being locked out of my old blog, I have finally cracked my password and am currently writing in it. I have written three entries. I am pretty happy! I also got to read old emails, including the first email I wrote after my cousin Christopher died.
If only I could fuse both email and blog accounts and have one blog and one email! Oh well.
My arm is itchy. I have gone down to Step 2 of the patch and haven’t noticed a big difference yet. I still have cravings to smoke SOMETHING, so I’ve been smoking some tobacco alternatives. No tobacco though. It’s been 23 days? 22 days? A long time anyway. I have no desire to start again, just this need to smoke something or another.
I went to a BDSM munch last night and had a good time, met a lot of new people and talked kinky stuff. It was fun, and I am going to go back for the mid month coffee I think.
I’m so messy! I think I am going to clean today. I know, I always say I am going to clean and then nothing happens. But I really DO want to clean today and I’m not working so far. Plus I am getting a new couch tomorrow, well, an old couch from my grandparents, but it’s new to me!
Well, I am going to go write in Fit Of Pique now, about I don’t know what.