clam chops

I love this man.

Some shit never changes.....

bored fucking with photoshop. one of my favorite quotes. #wallander

Aw babe, I’m sorry you’re going through this. It fucking sucks. I’ve had doctors disagree over if I have IC or not for yearsssssss. I have seriously been in the room with urogynecologists and had them literally fight on the phone in front of me over my ‘case’. They say it’s one simple test and it can tell you if you have it or not...but that’s really not the case at all. I have been in an Interstitial Cystitis Study and seen over 5 specialists for those symptoms alone. I don’t mean to be a debby downer, but that shit is hard as fuck to diagnose and doctors want to give up on you easily. Don’t lose hope though.. &Yeah, that’s ironic coming from me, considering I pray to a god I don’t believe in every night that I don’t wake up in the morning; but there are people that love you and ya gotta trudge through the shit to get to the gold. What are some of your symptoms if you don’t mind my asking? I might have some things for you to talk to your doctor about?(one good thing about finding people with similar issues is advice!) Oh, and I LOVE everything about Pittsburgh.. even our crazy ass roads. My accent is wicked :{ and i most DEFINITELY am cray... more so than you could ever imagine!

Finding notes you don't remember writing, (I just found my whole funeral plan & will that I do not recall writing out) hearing you've done things you would never do.. it's all part of living with dissociative disorder. But this note I do remember writing. I remember it vividly. I staged sippy cups and baby toys close to the door so that I would maybe not be an ideal victim. It ended up being an old woman that delivered this pizza. But it's pathetic to live like this. Rapists think it's just "20 minutes of fun" like that fuckwad Brock Turner, but the reality is that they rape your mind daily.. hourly.. in your dreams. It's never over. Once you're assaulted, it becomes your identity. This is one of the sick ways that being assaulted at age 12 continuously by multiple boys made me try to change myself. To make myself presentable at all times in case I was assaulted. It seems absurd, but I had valid reasons behind my bizarre rituals. At age 17, that ritual came into play when my cousins boyfriend at the time tried to rape me while I was completely inebriated. He took my pants off slowly while insulting me the entire time.. I was paralyzed by both fear and alcohol. "I thought you'd wear granny socks and have hairy legs." He laughed and continued to say how surprised he was by how "attractive" I was because he expected me to be 'granny' and 'hairy' for whatever reason. I couldn't help but feel relieved that I wouldn't be made fun of for my appearance AS WELL as being molested or possibly raped. I eventually got my energy back and was able to bite him, fight him off and escape. But the damage was done. And it had only proved to me that you have to be 'pretty' and 'hairless' even when you're incapacitated and are not expecting to have any sexual contact. So, I'll ask again... Why is it that I worry about my abusers judgement than the abuse itself?