September 12, 2005 - 12:35
I am trying to defy my natural cathartic instincts.
To gesture at my process, I could use the example of my ideal menustration.
If I could choose, I would bleed the entire quarts composite of my cycle in one day. I would bleed, and bleed, and not even move for bleeding. A tragedy for sure, in contrast to the manageable, but oppressive doses leaked over the duration of 5-7 days, with the mockery of the tampon as my aid.
I have been bracing myself for a litte while now, for moments or lapses that I won't be able to manage. I can see everything falling into it's place against me. This is fatalistic, I know. But it's happened before, and so I live in "fear of the fear". As they call it. When I am alone, I feel I am asking for for something to attack me.
And by some device, my hand, I am using humans for tampons. I am thinking, "Who should I call." "Where should I go." To stop the pending blood-flow. And certainly, I can say it's not working.
I've never felt so disconnected from my symptoms.
I held my shoulders and the only one to say my name was me. I try to be loving, "Rachael.", like a mother, but I feel like I've retreated too much. Lock me up with myself, and I will typically emerge holding my own hand, but I have gone about it differently this time.
It's giving me toxic shock syndrome.
And I wouldn't blame a tampon if it resented me for my blood.