I swear I have multiple drafts on here where I pick up on updating, then I just abandon it.
Obviously, a shit ton of things have occurred since my last entry (I don't even remember when my last entry was. I just logged on blindly and told myself I would write).
I've faced death twice... I want to say three times, but my fucking pregnancy brain has stuck around and has seriously deteriorated my memory (fuck that, it has deteriorated every damn thing about me).
I have two kids now... both boys... and I love them, they're great... but at the same time I now have zero time to myself and find myself worried about them entirely too much. Like... way too fucking much.
So this quarantine thing... yeah... good time to be alive with two little babies under 1.5 years old. Yeah, dawg, I did that. I fucking did that. Fuck.
Again, I love my kids... I just never thought I'd do this... I don't think ANYONE did, but I digress.
So anyway, back to the quarantine.
I was originally doing it since my last pregnancy (May-January) because I didn't want to catch the mean-ass flu that was going around, which was apparently insanely strong and not getting held back by the vaccine. From previous experience, the last fucking thing I wanted to do was have coughing fits while I had a huge-ass fucking gash in the middle of my stomach (it's actually just above the pubic area, but it still slices through your abdominal wall). I stayed the fuck away from everyone (also because I didn't want anyone to see my enormous ass. These babies were huge-- above average huge... "let me show my colleagues" huge).
Then came January 2020, where my baby had to be delivered in an emergency c-section because I developed cholestasis, and my dumbass body damn near poisoned my little baby. He was supposed to be here in February, but my body evicted him early-- it was the scariest moment of my life... I cried wildly at the doctor's office... alone... because that's how I did my pregnancy... fucking alone (I'm still married, but separated. It'll be explained later).
Now, about a week after having my baby (January 17th), I heard a rumor that a patient had been treated at the same hospital I had just left... treated for Covid19. I became a little worried, but since I wasn't too into checking the exact symptoms of the virus, I just did the whole "motherfucker better not have got me sick!" thing and moved on.
A week after that, I was plagued by the worst motherfucking headaches of my life. They would last at least 5 hours, every single day. Nothing was really triggering the headaches, they'd just strike randomly... debilitating as shit. I thought perhaps it was due to the spinal tap, but when I told my doctor, she said there was no reason for that to be happening to me so many days after delivering the baby. She told me to keep an eye on things. This lasted for a month... and the Motrin I was prescribed did jack shit to fix me. (They had also prescribed me Norco, but I stopped taking it after the second day after I suffered a horrible case of the chills. I spent one night of the most uncontrollable chills of my life, luckily my husband was there to control me, wrap me as warm as possible, and hug me tightly, reassuring me I'd be ok. The following day I still had some random chills. I blamed this on the Norco and immediately stopped taking them. I had no clue this was a symptom of Covid)
I also developed a cough for about three days... nothing out of the ordinary, just annoying. I had a TON of phlegm though, green mucus (I know this because I would spit up every single time I felt the mucus in my throat. I never swallowed it).
After seeing more information on this damn virus, I started wondering if maybe I had experienced it... but it's all so uncertain, because of the whole pregnancy recovery shit.
Aside from that little personal experience, I've been dealing with the worst case of anxiety of my life. I suffer panic attack every single day, though the last two days have been pretty good. I now worry about my babies... the thought of them getting sick fucks.me.up! I also worry about my parents. My father doesn't listen... and he still goes to work.
I read the news... too fucking much of it... and nothing fucking helps in calming me down.
So... I am pretty fucked up right now.
I'm hoping going back to writing will put me in a better headspace. Hopefully it will at least help me get me away from checking out news... I'll just try to get myself to remember things.
So here we go. I'm gonna try to be a little more ME than I've been in the last three years (I'm even listening to my music again... and I'm exercising again. I just want this fucking anxiety to leave me. Please leave me).
Let's see what this quarantine does for me.
Yey.
Oh shit, yeah, that quarantine thing... So I did it though my pregnancy, then immediately after my pregnancy, and right when I was about to get out into the real world, the government forced me back into quarantine.
Damn, pregnancy brain is fucking trash.
Obviously, a shit ton of things have occurred since my last entry (I don't even remember when my last entry was. I just logged on blindly and told myself I would write).
I've faced death twice... I want to say three times, but my fucking pregnancy brain has stuck around and has seriously deteriorated my memory (fuck that, it has deteriorated every damn thing about me).
I have two kids now... both boys... and I love them, they're great... but at the same time I now have zero time to myself and find myself worried about them entirely too much. Like... way too fucking much.
So this quarantine thing... yeah... good time to be alive with two little babies under 1.5 years old. Yeah, dawg, I did that. I fucking did that. Fuck.
Again, I love my kids... I just never thought I'd do this... I don't think ANYONE did, but I digress.
So anyway, back to the quarantine.
I was originally doing it since my last pregnancy (May-January) because I didn't want to catch the mean-ass flu that was going around, which was apparently insanely strong and not getting held back by the vaccine. From previous experience, the last fucking thing I wanted to do was have coughing fits while I had a huge-ass fucking gash in the middle of my stomach (it's actually just above the pubic area, but it still slices through your abdominal wall). I stayed the fuck away from everyone (also because I didn't want anyone to see my enormous ass. These babies were huge-- above average huge... "let me show my colleagues" huge).
Then came January 2020, where my baby had to be delivered in an emergency c-section because I developed cholestasis, and my dumbass body damn near poisoned my little baby. He was supposed to be here in February, but my body evicted him early-- it was the scariest moment of my life... I cried wildly at the doctor's office... alone... because that's how I did my pregnancy... fucking alone (I'm still married, but separated. It'll be explained later).
Now, about a week after having my baby (January 17th), I heard a rumor that a patient had been treated at the same hospital I had just left... treated for Covid19. I became a little worried, but since I wasn't too into checking the exact symptoms of the virus, I just did the whole "motherfucker better not have got me sick!" thing and moved on.
A week after that, I was plagued by the worst motherfucking headaches of my life. They would last at least 5 hours, every single day. Nothing was really triggering the headaches, they'd just strike randomly... debilitating as shit. I thought perhaps it was due to the spinal tap, but when I told my doctor, she said there was no reason for that to be happening to me so many days after delivering the baby. She told me to keep an eye on things. This lasted for a month... and the Motrin I was prescribed did jack shit to fix me. (They had also prescribed me Norco, but I stopped taking it after the second day after I suffered a horrible case of the chills. I spent one night of the most uncontrollable chills of my life, luckily my husband was there to control me, wrap me as warm as possible, and hug me tightly, reassuring me I'd be ok. The following day I still had some random chills. I blamed this on the Norco and immediately stopped taking them. I had no clue this was a symptom of Covid)
I also developed a cough for about three days... nothing out of the ordinary, just annoying. I had a TON of phlegm though, green mucus (I know this because I would spit up every single time I felt the mucus in my throat. I never swallowed it).
After seeing more information on this damn virus, I started wondering if maybe I had experienced it... but it's all so uncertain, because of the whole pregnancy recovery shit.
Aside from that little personal experience, I've been dealing with the worst case of anxiety of my life. I suffer panic attack every single day, though the last two days have been pretty good. I now worry about my babies... the thought of them getting sick fucks.me.up! I also worry about my parents. My father doesn't listen... and he still goes to work.
I read the news... too fucking much of it... and nothing fucking helps in calming me down.
So... I am pretty fucked up right now.
I'm hoping going back to writing will put me in a better headspace. Hopefully it will at least help me get me away from checking out news... I'll just try to get myself to remember things.
So here we go. I'm gonna try to be a little more ME than I've been in the last three years (I'm even listening to my music again... and I'm exercising again. I just want this fucking anxiety to leave me. Please leave me).
Let's see what this quarantine does for me.
Yey.
Oh shit, yeah, that quarantine thing... So I did it though my pregnancy, then immediately after my pregnancy, and right when I was about to get out into the real world, the government forced me back into quarantine.
Damn, pregnancy brain is fucking trash.
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