12.27.2012

All adventurous women do.

L--

I've thought a lot about what I would say today. I've thought about it for a year. If you want, we can do this in a list, just like last time.

1.  The weirdest part is that it itches. All the time. Of course I mean my scar, the one I have on my arm that I will likely die with. Sometimes it hurts, and I am still incapable of having my blood pressure measured on my left arm.

2. I've spent a lot of time over these months trying to become myself again because I spent a few years as someone totally different. This blog was a huge part of that. I can't believe it Lisa, can you? I mean, how did I live without this? Now it seems crazy to me, as does the idea that I would ever, ever give it up simply because some man--any man--required it to date me.

3. Wow, it's been a really long time since I posted. 12 days. Thankfully, 12 days now qualifies as a long time, as I went almost three years without posting and finally ended the radio silence with a letter to you, exactly a year ago. Today.

4. Last year after Chase was arrested, I slept fitfully on and off for a day. Then I texted Woody. "I'm kind of in a pickle, Wood," I said, "and I miss you." I asked him to fly out to see me. He said he would. I didn't see him until the following May when I flew to my fair hometown and spent half of my trip naked with him even though I was there to see a different boy. I always was a sucker for my exes.

5. I went to Planned Parenthood a couple weeks ago. Don't worry, it was just for an annual, but it was so weird being back there and surprisingly overwhelming. Last year my one visit to Planned Parenthood turned into a seven-week ordeal involving several different tests, meds, and many a white knuckle. This year was totally painless. "Anything else you'd like to note?" my nurse practitioner asked me, "and are you still happy with your IUD?" No and yes, I answered. My vagina seems fine these days and I love my IUD, getting it might be literally the greatest thing I've ever done for myself.  During my pelvic exam she checked to make sure that it was in the right place; that the strings were still there and nothing had shifted improperly. Everything was a-okay, she said.

I thought I learned a huge lesson back then, Lisa--about who I should be sharing my life with and who I should be sleeping with how to respect my vagina--and I remember those things from my twenties, from before I met Chase. I missed her and wanted her back so desperately that sometimes I forget that I've learned some valuable things in the last few years, too. Things I don't want to let go. And I forget that no matter what I try to revert to, I'm still a different person than the girl who drove that giant orange Penske truck from SF to Seattle when I was still just barely 27.

What I'm trying to tell you is that my period is now five days late.

And in a broader sense I'm telling you that 27 year old me and 32 year old me have vastly different ideas about pregnancy. Specifically about what to do should it occur in my uterus.

Thankfully, five days late for me is still two days early for normal women, but wouldn't that just be so me? Meet a perfect boy, have to leave him far away, and then accidentally get pregnant by a different one  in a matter of weeks?

I love old me, I do. But new me just can't fucking do this. This is crazy, Lisa. It's irresponsible. And yeah, I've had sex all of once since I've been home, but just this fear, this uncertainty--the fact that this whole situation seems exactly like something I would find myself wrapped up in--it belies a notion that it's ultimately my fault, or at least my responsibility. I mean, I'm the only common denominator, here. And I don't want this. I don't want this to happen.

Thank you Lisa. Thank you for my blog, because honestly, I don't know how else I would have processed the last week, let alone the past year.

I love and miss you.
So much.
XOXO--M

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