Dog days

I truly hate myself sometimes. I know this makes me sound like a whiny-ass little bitch, but it's true. Whenever a stressful situation rears its ugly head, one that I know will bring with it a great change in my life...one that I have little or no control over...my mind kicks into overdrive. Thoughts build up and repeat themselves until it's like having about a thousand dogs barking in my head. And it you know anything about dogs, it's the meanest and nastiest ones that bark the loudest.

What I hate about this are the bad thoughts, the selfish thoughts, the completely unreasonable ones. Thankfully, I never think of hurting myself or others. The duality of this is that I just wanna beat the crap out of myself for these things ever entering my head.

Since Candy got diagnosed on Friday with Endometriosis, the dogs have been barking. Strangely, she is the third girlfriend I have had with this affliction, so the diagnosis I was prepared for. It's the severity that threw me for a loop. There are options, but none of them are a choice I could make, not that I'm in a position to make the call.

One option would allow Candy to be able to have a child. However, the chances of natural conception are slim (slightly greater with in vitro fertilization), the medication needed to treat the Endometriosis can lead to birth defects, and there's a limited window of opportunity for conception before, inevitably, leading to option #2: Hysterectomy.

The biggest trouble I have, of course, is that this woman I love has to go through this, and the only thing I can do for her is stand by her side holding her hand. I cannot do anything to ease her pain, all I can do is make sure she's as comfortable as possible.

Running a close second is the fact that I cannot impose my will on the outcome. I've always wanted to have kids. Candy has been saying that she never wants to have children. I've been willing to accept that because I love her dearly and respect her decision. However, there's always been this hope in me that one day she'd change her mind. Now, that remote chance is gone. Poof! Now, I have to accept that. Unfortunately, this is the loudest barking dog in the pack.

Sounds selfish as hell, don't it? Doesn't it make you wanna beat the crap out of me for thinking like that? Me too.

I don't wanna be like that. I don't want this to be this way. I don't want Candy to have to go though this. I want to help her through this. I need to be stronger than this, and all I want to is break down. I need to break down, just to get it out of the way. The real bitch about that is it's like trying to force a sneeze. It has to happen on its own accord. In the meantime, I may have another night of nightmares.

Last night and the night before, I've had nightmares where I'm walking around my normal day-to day life, only to enter a room or round a corner and find someone I care about laying dead in a pool of blood. And I vapor-lock. I freeze up and just stand there, afraid to do anything. Five times on Saturday night and three times on Sunday. Now, this could mean that all of my anxiety over Candy's condition is really screwing with my head, combined with watching waaaay too much CSI.

Maybe a warm glass of milk and about three or four sleeping pills will silence the dogs for the night. Otherwise, expect the posts to get a bit darker in coming days.

No pic today. Hey, YOU try to find a picture that goes along with this little rant!