My Hystie Vacation by Slushkitty


I am back at work, so you know what that means…. I can get back to blogging! Being on disability for the last nine weeks kept me terribly busy, terribly terribly busy – mostly watching “Judging Amy” and spending crazy amounts of money on things to help make me feel girly again (i.e. eyelash extensions, massages, a bra fitting and the subsequent fortune spent on new ones, etc…). And I was recovering (and still am and will be for a while) from my hystie, got the flu – like the flu flu – not a cold, there was a death in the family, and my house caught on fire. Terribly busy I was. Yoda I am. Details as follows:

* eyelash extensions – lasted two days, not ten as advertized. But they were a fun two days… even though no one noticed… sheesh!

* massage – so-so.

* new bras – I flashed Celery and her mom this weekend. They asked for it. Really! They did!

* hystie update – physically I am fine, emotionally and mentally a wreck. Menopause, jumbled/absent hormones, psych meds, a constant sadness over the emotional devastation of it all – they collectively suck the big one. I feel like I am going insane – I really do mean that literally. I’ve been agonizing over whether it’s necessary to dissect each feeling and categorize them accordingly, so I can have an understanding of why I, oh, I don’t know, mourn my cats’ deaths from that fire (more on that below) while they’re actually sitting on my head and purring on my lap all safe and sound; get consumed and nearly crippled by a social awkwardness and anxiety that I thought was much further behind me and then destroy myself for realizing it’s right on the surface like it’s always been; am so emotionally vulnerable that I feel like the world is out to get me when in fact the world is embracing me … except for “Baffley” – who you’ll meet in my next post – who challenges and picks apart my every exposed emotional nerve, for better or for worse or for not at all because I’m making it all up and I am in no position/condition to argue or even address it, and this is the world’s longest run-on sentence. More thoughts on the understanding of the chaos in my head, heart, and soul later, when you meet Baffley. It’s a cliff-hanger!

* the flu – my boss is out with the flu today! Booyah! Maybe he’ll be a zombie for the next two weeks like I was. OK – it was more like a week, week and a half.

* death in the family – My great-uncle, my grandmother’s brother “Don”. He was 96. His name was actually John but the Guido Mafioso priest at the burial kept calling him “Don”. I didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. Auntie was yelling from the back, “He’ll never get into Heaven this way!” = laugh. A Navy sailor performed “Taps” while two other sailors ceremoniously folded the American Flag and handed it to his son = cry.

* house on fire – it was the house attached to mine, I live in a row house. I was watching TV in my pajamas on my shiny new couch with my shiny old cats when out of nowhere my apartment was stormed by and swarmed with firefighters! The cats did the “Tom and Jerry” running in place thing then flew under the bed. The firefighters told me to grab my coat and shoes and leave and I freaked the fuck out about my cats. They told me to lock them in the bedroom so they wouldn’t get out of the house. Yeah, right. I stood outside in the rain weeping while the entire population of South Boston, a news crew, and countless firemen scrambled for updates and hoses, respectively. I posted pictures on Facebook. My nerves were shot for days, but everyone was fine.


I am fine, too, when you think about it, but don’t think about it too hard.


Loveyoumeanitbbiab.. xox


One response

  1. I have a fire story. When I was 18, Nana started a grease fire in the basement. I was in the shower and heard the alarm go off. I said to myself, well, I’m in the shower so I guess I won’t burn to death. Pot smokers reality. But, something told me I should see what the hell was going on. I wrapped myself in a towel with hair was full of shampoo, opened the bathroom door and was consumed by smoke. I heard Nana in the basement, and ran down to get her out of the house. Just as I saw her, she was about to throw a big pot of water on a grease fire. Not good! I body checked her into the wall, knocking the water out of her hands, then dragged her out of the house. She insisting, of course, that she could have put out the fire. We ran to the fire box at the end of the street. Then, if you can believe it, fought about who was going to pull the alarm, since I guess, we both wanted to say we had that life experience. (She won, so I can’t cross that off my bucket list yet.) We continue to fight about everything. The firemen came, saved my parakeet, and I was humiliated to be standing in the middle of the street with a towel barely covering my big boobs and pubic hair. Back in the 70s full bush was the style, no Brazilians back then.

    Obsessing is a family trait. I listen to my heart beat constantly because I am convinced that I am going to have a massive heart attack and die.

    I am fine when you think about it, but don’t think about it too hard.

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