Wednesday, October 15, 2014
This morning I wake up in a gloriously different place from LA. Yeap, Arizona.
"How can Arizona be better that California?"
Ah my dears, that is because you might be forgetting that everyone has different priorities. I'm a Witch, k?
Here in Arizona the vibe...it's the difference between stepping into cool water on a hot day and looking at dirty, muddy, been tramped in for weeks on end and knowing you can't get out of going in. The latter being California.
The vibe is just better. It's cleaner. It's less artificial feeling to me to be honest. Plus there's constitutional carry. ^_^
Now onto the gross bits...
Gross bit section begin:
An update on the ongoing project of using re-usable cotton pads. Ever since I was started my periods, my right ovary has been the real cunt of the two. Everything from when the cramps hit of collapsing at work and getting sent home to being violently ill for about four days. My left one is not as bad. Hell the left one is a little angel compared to this bitch of a right one. The left one about 75% only causes cramps for about a day and 100% of the time cravings for red meat. (The rawer, the better!)
Well since using the cotton ones I made, the right one has been reduced from four days to two days. This is a major improvement.
Another thing I've noticed is that the tissue lining (this is what you end up bleeding during the period) seems to be having an easier time of coming loose. I've gone from 4-8 days of periods to 3-6. Yes this means heavier periods, however that just in the first day or two. This means I'm back on my feet and able to be fully productive again faster.
Read that last sentence again and understand that that is incredibly important to me. If I'm not feeling close to 100%, I can't do my crochet work.... this leads to other problems.
End Gross Part
Another thing that has cropped up that is going to be crucial to address, is the fact that I have lost my familiarity with guns. This pisses me off to no end. Hence why grabbing a bit of 22 from storage and 45 was so damn important yesterday.
I'm one of the girls who used to work for Oleg Volk for fuck's sake, I knew guns and they were
Really fun to shoot objects, but pistols and rifles held no power. Now, because of losing my familiarity with them...they bring back a few memories that I don't need. Like the fact that one of my first firearms teachers was also treating me like a cumbucket ("You have no concept of how to easy on yourself do you?" Nope.) and was also one of my rapist when it was all said and done. He was a lousy fucking teacher. Can't handle shotguns because of it. (Fuck him by the way. Karma ain't done with him yet.)
This is going to be one of the harder projects to work on as I refuse to let this stand. I will be pistol packing again full time once in Arizona full time and I'm not going to do it afraid. I will not let something that helps me be able to walk unafraid of other piece of shit wanna be humans, be a fucking PTSD trigger.
I will not be afraid.
Fear is the mind killer....