Author: A Girl & Her Wolves

I'm a clinically depressed fucked up individual who is using this site to just vent about the shitty things about MY life.

Where I Complain About Being A Woman

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So in a few weeks, my womb will be removed. The pear shaped organ that carried my children. The one thing that differentiates me from men. The reason why I can talk about abortion and why it’s no one’s business why someone is getting one. That organ. My uterus.

I’ll be saying goodbye to my uterus. It’s not because I want to but it’s because I have a medical condition. I’m not supposed to have any more periods since I had the Novasure done. But for over a year now, I’m suffering from them. Sometimes they get so bad that it wipes me out completely and I end up sleeping all day.

Am I sad? In a way. This is not the first organ to be removed from my body. It would actually be the 4th. How fun. But I am also relieved. No more periods. No more PMS. And hopefully no more PMDD.

This is going to be a life changer. It’s still sad (and scary) but I don’t like that I’m suffering every month from something I no longer need.

I will have to spend the night in the hospital (remind me to write about the morphine machine). My husband will also be spending the night with me so yay! Hospital rooms are cold and creepy.

This isn’t my first rodeo so I should be really good at this. But goodbye, periods!!

Call Me Old Fashioned…

Published on by A Girl & Her Wolves

I had a choice. I didn’t have to take his last name when we got married but I chose to. Not because it’s the norm or tradition…but my reasons were more than just because I’m fucking in love.

But I can totally understand why some women don’t and I commend those who made the choice even though people talked her out of it. Like this woman: http://m.huffpost.com/us/entry/9417350?

I took my husband’s last name because my maiden name started with a Q and remembering how much of a pain in the ass it was to be so close to the end of the alphabet. Especially when we had to line up alphabetically by last name in school or I had to look for a table that had the sign “P-Q” and it was always at end of the freakin’ hall. Also, I’m the type who likes to get stuff over with so I always almost wanted to just die every time I had to wait to present something to the class.

I remember when it was time to renew our parking passes where I used to work. Went to my table (A-C), told them my last name and I was the fourth one down the list (my first name is like smack in the middle of the alphabet). Shit like that makes me happy that I took Jeremy’s last name. It baffles people, too, because they didn’t expect an Asian chick with an American last name until they check my ring finger. Kinda funny to me.

Also, being called The [REDACTED] Family sounds awesome. I seriously considered naming my daughter Wednesday. Now I see how that was stupid idea but I was pregnant and all I could think of was the next time I could eat or nap so I wasn’t really thinking clearly.

I Wrote A Suicide Note

Published on by A Girl & Her Wolves

Because…I don’t know. Because there are days when I’m terrified of tomorrow. Because tomorrow is unpredictable. Unpredictability terrifies me. Because I have so much bad shit going on around me that it’s literally tearing me apart inside. But at the same time, I’m clinging on to whatever sanity I have left and hoping for that proverbial light at the end of the tunnel.

I wrote a suicide note because if I do finally put an end to this “woe is me” life, there are no unanswered questions. It’s right there…the reason why I decided to strip the world of my existence. I wrote the reasons down…people I love wouldn’t have to ask why. The reasons would completely relieve them of what they could’ve done to prevent it. Because the reasons are there to say that there was no way it could’ve been prevented.

I wrote a suicide note because I don’t trust myself. I have been to that point in my life more than once when I tell myself that I’m done. Completely. That point when I’m so terrified to be alone because no one will stop me from swallowing whatever poison I could find. I was alone the last time I was in that dark place…clinging to life…my husband saved me. He didn’t let me die. He drove me to the hospital in tears while I begged for him to turn around and let me go. I didn’t have a suicide note then.

I wrote a suicide note and left it in my wallet to remind myself that I have something to live for. It’s a weird reminder, but it’s a reminder. I open my wallet every single day and every single day it’s a reminder that I am still alive. It’s a reminder that each and every single day, no one else knows what’s in that note. Only me and me alone.