This is life.

hydrocodone, a photo by Digital Heather on Flickr.

I take back what I said about this being easy.

Last night was especially horrible. I'm trying to deal with the pain without taking medicine, if I can. I try to just sleep it off or occupy my mind but it's difficult. I even pulled out my sewing machine for the first time since 2009. I don't understand but it's like a stronger, delayed pain. My surgery was five days ago. Maybe my endo coming back from the dead for revenge-- who knows.

These pills look different with their polka spots, but I know them. The dots make them appear almost dessert-like. Actually they look like breath mints. I over-dosed on these, or their non-spotted cousins earlier this year. So it feels strange taking them. Granted, that time I took 50, but still. They also gave me zofran, another drug from my overdose. It's an anti-nausea medicine. When I was out of my mind and trying to end my life, I figured all of that hydrocodone would make me go to bed and not wake up. I worried about my body waking up and vomiting it out so I figured the zofran would help. I was so out of my mind and didn't know what I was doing in more ways than one. It's not like I had planned any of it or even googled what to do or not do. Acetaminophen overdoses are, as my nurse later told me, "a fucked up, long and brutal way to die." I didn't know at the time, but if my attempt was unsuccessful, I might have needed a new liver instead. For the record, it was 50 hydrocodone, 100 Tylenol, a dozen zofran and half a bottle of rum. The first time.

I've avoided all medicines since April, so all of this is just weird. I also avoided alcohol too. Except I began to drink a daiquiri on the 4th and immediately stopped when I tasted the rum. This week has just been a series of little deja vu... I guess we'll say monsters since they're not really triggers. Too many to actually name and catalog.

I think I finally stopped bleeding from the D and C. It lasted about five days, tapering off at the end. Just like a period. I'm so thankful because I forgot how ridiculous giant pads are.

It's startling how many people suffer with depression or struggle with suicide and how many women deal with infertility and miscarriages. It bothers me that no one talks about it. I didn't know that most of my friends also attempted suicide until they found out about me. I wish I had known. I wish I could have helped them. I wish they could have helped me. But not talking about it helps no one. The same is true for sharing my miscarriage. If it weren't for women posting online what happens or what to expect, where would we be? My doctor and mother couldn't tell me what kind of physical pain to expect from my surgery.

So that's why I say the things I do. Keeping quiet for appearances or the neighbors or my in-laws is just ridiculous. This is life.