Bloody Mary, Bloody Mary

Bloody Mary, Bloody Mary, Bloody Mary.   When I was a kid, Bloody Mary was the most petrifying story for me.  I think because there was the possibility that it could be real.  I wasn’t worried during the day, but passing by a mirror at night was always terrifying for me.  I was so afraid I would be compelled to say Bloody Mary that I would duck my head down and not look in the mirror in my room or the one in the hallway...I would even turn on the light in the bathroom to escape the temptation there.  Earlier this week though, I did it.  I looked in the mirror and I said Bloody Mary.  Five times.

I guess there is a debate out there as to whether the appropriate number is three or five, but I said it the five times to make sure that she showed up if she was in fact going to.  Sure this seems like a kid thing to do, but for me this week has been about facing my fears.  Some potentially real, some imaginary, but those imaginary fears--the things that you build up in your mind, still feel real.  

Last weekend I had finally come to the conclusion that this idea of ducking my head down in fear has kept me from more than just looking in the mirror when going by one at night.  I realized that I have closed myself off romantically because of that fear too.  Basically, I never believe we “get away” with anything in life.  I have always been afraid of the consequences in life--so much so that it actually was very limiting.  I’ve done stupid things, I mean we all have, but I couldn’t forgive myself for them.  I have gotten the toxic elements out of my life, but I guess I was still fearing the effects of those elements, of those poor choices.

In the broad scheme of stupid things, I really could have done much worse, but I guess what it comes down to now is trust.  And I have a difficult time giving that.  I guess I would say that I never understood how people could just sleep around.  It isn’t about reputation that I’m thinking about.  Giving someone that much power over you.  You’re giving them power over your life.  There are so many things out there, and who really asks for a full sexual history before sleeping with someone?  It isn’t like we can just ask for some version of a carfax report.  Because let’s face it, at our age, pretty much everyone is a used car.  So no sexfax...you are going entirely on someone’s word.   And that is even if you are comfortable enough to ask if they have ever been tested.  So anyway, I hadn’t been.  I have gotten a couple piercings (and the places looked sterile enough, but you never know).  I have had unprotected sex a couple times.  I felt I owed it to myself and any potential future parter to get THE test.  

This is my long winded version of stating that I got the trifecta of nasties tested this week.  HIV, Hepatitis and Syphilis. Of course most of us don’t go around in this day and age worried about possible syphilis exposure.  Honestly I planned on going in for an HIV test.

In the mean time, another issue cropped up that I couldn’t explain.  So It seemed like a good opportunity for me to go in for one thing, and get another looked at.  Come to find out that I had a bacterial infection and a yeast infection. (I know, TMI, but let’s face it...this whole entry can be seen as tmi and if you’re still reading you’re interested. so shut up).  And I got my blood taken for testing.  

I was so scared when I went in on Monday.  My blood pressure was crazy high 160/100 and she didn’t even bother taking my pulse.  I was a mess.  Really, at this point it was over the blood test.  Sure it should be negative, but what if it wasn’t?  What if I had to go and tell my mom and dad I fucked up?  What if I had to go and tell all previous partners about my testing results?  I haven’t a lengthy list, but one of them I have NO WAY or reaching!  I didn’t write down his last name! ( I swear, I made a point of finding out at the time!)  My imagination was running rampant.  All possible horrible scenarios.  How I would probably have to become a nun after all.  Bargaining with God telling Him that if he let me off on this I would start donating blood to blood banks regularly...I was a mess.

I felt slightly better after actually getting the blood drawn.  That it was done and now I just had to wait for the results.  And wait. And wait.  And then wait some more.  Because they didn’t call me or put the information in my e-chart Tuesday.  My doctor told me the blood results probably would be ready in two or three days--so surely Wednesday I would find out.  No such luck.  And on top of everything else, my period started over a week early.  At least I think it was my period. But my whole system was wigging out!  Finally, Thursday, with the craziness that was my period, side effects from the medicine, and just needing to know what the hell the results of the blood work were, I finally called in the afternoon.  And found out that all my testing was negative.  I have been tested for every possible std and I have nothing.  Officially rehymenated.  or at least that is what I am calling it.

So I felt so much better about that, but the news was hampered by the fact that I needed to go in and see my gynecologist for the second time this week on Friday about the abnormal bleeding.  And have more tests done, which I am still waiting on.  She said she didn’t want to assume it was the medicine.  So the question is, did I work myself up so badly that I shocked my system?  I will probably find out more about that soon.  Hopefully.

But this week has taught me a few things.  First of all, I can’t run from what I’m afraid of.  I need to face it, that way the unrealistic fears can be siphoned out.  I have way too obsessive a personality for the expression “better off not knowing” or “wait and see” to apply to me.

The other thing I found out is that I don’t want to be alone.  For years I had a best friend who I hung out with regularly.  I guess you could say I didn’t need a relationship, because if I was every lonely or needed someone, etc, she was there.  Or I thought she was.  It didn’t turn out to be the case, and we are no longer friends.  Every once in a while it bothers me the not having a lot of close friends or not having a significant other to share my life with, but this week it really hurt.  I tried to “talk” in the form of text to one of my friends, but she was unresponsive.  This week I felt alone.  I can’t help but feel that it makes me weak.  I want a man in my life so I have someone to cry to?  I want a man in my life so I have someone there who will hold me and tell me everything is going to work out even if he’s lying?  I want a man in my life so that I can have a ready sperm donor?  Well, there are a lot more reasons too, but this week has shown me I really don’t have the network of friends that Carrie Bradshaw had.  She was able to not have a man and be strong and happy by herself (Candice Bushnell’s original vision of Carrie, not what HBO did to the show after Candice’s material was finished at the end of the second season) because she had a strong network of friends that were there for her whenever.  I realized I don’t feel I can talk to anyone about issues like the ones I have been having this week...or I don’t really perceive I can talk to others in my life about these issues.

As the end of this year rapidly approaches, and we move into birthday month yet again, I have decided I am going to strut my still cute ass more and work on getting out this next year.  I’ve been in my cave for far too long.  And it really is a beautiful day out today.