Ow, Y’all

This is not how my ankle normally looks.
This is not how my ankle normally looks.

I love dancing. I love going to the club and hanging out with friends and chatting and swirling across the dance floor. I, if I may so say, am a damn good dancer.

But.
If one is standing next to the water cooler, and one is feeling the beginnings of a cramp in one’s shins….one should probably not roll out both of your ankles, one to each side to stretch out your legs.

There was an audible – and by audible, I mean my chat companions all heard it and winced aloud – crunch noise from my left ankle.

At first there was no pain. But, I was aware that that was probably not a good thing. I gathered my things and headed home.
Thank goodness I was wearing combat boots, y’all. They kept my ankle braced and in place for the hour long drive home.

I got home (3:47AM, good gravy!), peeled out of clothes and dropped into bed. Along about 7AM, the sun streaming through the blinds and a hungry BunnyCat woke me up. I muttered imprecations against both and flip-flounced over in bed.
Or, at least, I meant to flip-flounce. Instead, as soon as I put any pressure on my left foot, screaming minions of Hell jabbed me with fiery tines and sent horrific giggles up my leg.

Ow.

I had Mister Man (resident nurse and husbeast) go over the injury. We’re pretty sure I just strained the hell out of oh, everything in my left ankle. The swelling was sorta phenomenal, as were the new and interesting colors that were starting to come up. I spent all of yesterday on the couch, foot propped up. I put no weight on it, iced it periodically, was actually compliant with Advil dosing. I adulted like an adult with an injury. I went to bed feeling pretty flippin’ smug about what a trooper I was.

This morning I got up and things felt much, much better. I could bear a little weight and the swelling had gone down dramatically.
Ahh, I thought. Almost better. I AM Wolverine, in spite of being 45. Healing factor AW YISS. 

The Girl came down, all sleepy-hungry teen. Could I make breakfast? Of COURSE I could. I am, apparently, this generation’s Mom-verine*. I happily grated apples and whisked eggs and cooked bacon. Apple-pancakes and bacon deliciousness? Coming up!
My ankle was a little bitchy about that, so I sat down. After an hour or so, with breakfast and coffee and Advil working their magic, I decided I needed to go to the grocery store to get the things that were missed on the last mini-run.
Mister Man was not a fan of this plan. At all.
I am nothing, if not stubborn. After a few hours,  I was able to mule my way to getting out of the house (I really despise being cooped in one place against my will for any length of time).

So I went to the grocery store just a bit ago, AMA.

I was wrong.
So. So. SOOO wrong. We’re not back to DEFCON ARGHFUCK!, but we are certainly back to DC-Oh, Shit.

*sigh*
Thank goodness that tomorrow’s interview is a phone interview. I am pretty certain that I am going to need a bit more rest of the soft tissues before trying to wear Fancy Shoes.

* – Mom + Wolverine. It just…c’mon work with me here.

Why We Stayed

I was going to write about something else today. Something funny or witty, full of bad puns and a truly hideous amount of pop culture references. I remember thinking about it while I was showering this morning.

It all fell out of my head when I sat down to Twitter and Facebook with my coffee.

My feeds were full of people loudly talking about domestic violence. Hash-tagged with #WhyIStayed, folks were describing the thoughts and reasons that they stayed in abusive relationships.

Post after tweet, humans were revealing their innermost feelings of helplessness and worthlessness. They were speaking a language of fear and oppression, one with which I am unfortunately completely intimate.

One of the people talking was my beautiful best friend.

Of course, I had known the relationship she used to be in was damaging. She and I had spoken about it so many times. Over iced tea and margs, pizza and queso, discussion after discussion. The conversations were uncomfortable, to say the least. It felt like she wasn’t listening, that she didn’t hear me. I knew whereof I spoke, after all. I had experience and she should really listen to me and follow my advice. However, she assured me that she knew what she was doing. She had a plan and it was working. I wanted to believe her. I wanted her to know what she was talking about. I wanted her to not be in a place that was slowly killing her spirit.

I just wanted for it to not be happening.

Years later, I know the truth: she did hear me. But, the noise from her abusive partner and the emotional damage he had done to her was far louder. She stayed in the relationship until the moment her tremendous mind gave her an ultimatum.

Leave. Or find us room at the nearest mental hospital. We. Cannot. Do This. ANYMORE.

#WhyIStayed

We’re just going through a rough patch. We are in couples’ counseling and working on it.

 

He was so badly abused in his early years, and he is working on himself. He is getting better, I see progress all the time.

 

I can fix him.

 

I can never, ever apologize enough to my dearest friend for not being more proactive. I should have followed up and been more …I don’t know, something. Less head-in-the-sand. Less willing to take the comfortable and safe route.

I blame some of my inability to decisively act on my past. There is a shattering of self that comes with chronic abuse. The more of it that happens, the more fragile the psyche can become.1

Just one more ounce of pressure...that is all it will take.
Just one more ounce of pressure…that is all it will take.

SOURCE: http://www.autoglassontheweb.com/526888/2012/08/25/expand-your-auto-glass-knowledge-with-the-help-of-these-great-links.html

You feel a need to retreat from any confrontation because it might lead to something even worse. Arguing is bad. Trusting people is dangerous. Always check your six and a Crazy Ivan isn’t so crazy when it works.

It is a habit that is hard to break and hard to imagine if you have never been traumatized.2 And it can get progressively worse if you aren’t on top of it with therapy and mindfulness. To this day, I can be startled by someone I can see walking towards me if they say “Boo!” Say it, mind you. Not scream it. Not jump at me with it. Not leap out from hiding. Nope. All they have to do is just say it in a slightly louder tone. Approaching me from the side can also badly startle me.3

It doesn’t help that the media has portrayed abuse in the past as justified or trivial or something to be made fun of.

Jackasses.
Jackasses. Circled in red for your convenience.

*sighs*

I have no answers except to say that I am listening. I have the tea ready and a pizza on the way, if you’re hungry. Let’s talk. I promise to do better this time.

 

 

 

 

 

 

1– Of course, there are exceptions to this. Some folks come through traumatic experiences with an aggressively zealous mindset. They will never be victims again, and will kick the ass of any who try to make them such. Kudos to them, I say.

2– The laundry list of abuse.

3– Unfortunately, one of my startle reactions is anger. Which fuels the anxiety, which makes me angrier. It is a vicious cycle that I have worked really hard to try to learn how to defuse.

The Real Superheroes

Good morning readers.

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Yesterday I was going to put up some Marvel Superhero Classic RPG characters of mine. I had been chatting with a friend, discussing how characters look different through the lens of puberty. I had offered to show her some of mine as I had been gaming for nigh-thirty years. Watching them shift from power builds to role-play builds (and the ones I have had continuously through those years got more Kleenex-driven as I aged) was interesting.

 

However, I got sidetracked by all the political brouhaha that was happening around the SCOTUS decision vis-à-vis Hobby Lobby.

 

To be clear, I am NOT a particularly political person. And this is most definitely not a political blog. I know what my feelings are on a given subject, but I cannot discuss with any degree of competence the intricacies of American political structure.

That being said, what SCOTUS did was absolute and utter bullshit. Not only have they1 again decided that “Welp, them wimmens shore don’t know a thang ‘bout whut their bodies do. Let’s thank for ‘em,”2 but they have opened the floodgates for other less-ethical Big Business3 to use this loophole (and find $deity!) to make their bottom lines look better.

In frighteningly predictable manner, the public female figures who have spoken out against the decision have been harassed, called ‘whores’ or worse, and just in general made to feel less than human. Apparently 4,  women wanting some kind of control over their own bodies, their own reproductive rights, and the ability to say “no” to men is seen by some as an affront. No, I’m not going link any of that here, because ew. I don’t want to spread the hate that seems to be flowing from people who claim they believe in a loving $deity.

Instead, I am going to link to some awesome women who are politically savvy.  May I recommend Jessica Valenti, Ebony Stewart, Amanda Marcotte, Rachel Maddow,  Mikki Kendall as well as many others?  They rock, they talk, and they’re not afraid to tell you like it is. 

 

Find joy in your life. Live your life. Don’t give in to bullshit, don’t give in to hate. We have too little time to fuck around with being hateful.

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1– Our government – and more explicitly, the male GOP section of our government – seems determined to set back human rights to a more feudal age.

2 – With apologies to all people of fantastic intelligence who speak in this manner; I’m sure that there are a couple of you. My upbringing around rural Texas indicates otherwise, but I am surely not an expert.  

3Hoohahahahaha, bwahahahah, *snortGASP* hahahahahaha! “Ethical Big Business!”  Hahahahahahahahaaaaaaaa!

4 – From antecdotal evidence seen on my Twitter feed and in oh, EVERY comments section dealing with these issues, ever.