A defining Moment

My defining moment is an unfortunate one. This endo shit got real and I feel as though my life is falling apart around me. I hope that my surgery in September lets me be how I used to be. Everything is exhausting. It's funny, I thought the only thing wrong was my lady bits, but I can't even think straight anymore. I'm preparing for surgery by looking at other blogs, pinterest, and my Facebook support groups.
Work is increasingly difficult, relationships except a few are close to nonexistent or strained, and I think I'm loosing it.

I am going to have this disease for the rest of my life, and I'm not sure I've come to accept this yet.

Kitty meow meow

I wrote this a long time ago on Facebook and this gem went unnoticed. Here goes again with slight revision. Which means I just fixed the typos and spacing.

feeling so trapped
the pressure is physically disabling
... and I swear my chest is caving in

It's so hard to see,
my head is aching from the impact

this is supposed to be love
...you made me believe this was love.

I can't even move.

Some nights I cant sleep and I'm left awake with my thoughts

How could eyes as blue as the sky, as deep as the ocean, make me feel hated
...yet loved
...inadequate
...yet desperately needed

these things always run through my head when all the cats are on me and I cant breath or move because Neko is crushing my stomach and pinning my legs and choco is on my chest kneeding my face and giving me head knucks to the point I might have a concussion and Graybie is just walking all over me to find a comfortable spot.

I love these assholes.

Choco (my favorite)

Neko (the husbands cat)

Gray+baby= Graybie (the new one)

All of them!

Game Ovaries- This is my Endo begining.

When you google "endometriosis" you get the same medical definition:

"Endometriosis is a female health disorder that occurs when cells from the lining of the womb (uterus) grow in other areas of the body. This can lead to pain, irregular bleeding, and problems getting pregnant (infertility)."

More or less. It doesn't sound too serious when put that way, but I've been to the doctor way too many times over this, tried over nine different birth control pills over this, and it's pretty serious biz when you're in pain almost every single day. Yup, something is wrong. June of last year was when all of this started, and if i didn't write things down, I don't think I would be able to rememeber what I felt like when I was "normal"

To me, none of that matters so much now. I could have paid for a lap out of pocket to see if it is for sure endometriosis or not and if it is, how bad the damage is, so to speak. I chose not to because if I did, that would go down as a preexisting condition for insurance and then I would definitely be up a creek without a paddle. So instead I've been busting my ass working, I have my insurance now, and I've found a specialist and broke up with my old doctor. I would have broken up with the old doctor anyway, so don't feel bad for him.

Monday is the first day I'll be seeing a specialist, and to me it really feels like this is going to determine if the life I knew a year ago will ever be attainable again, or if it'll just be a memory. I do hope I can write more consistently, and I do hope those that read this will stick around for my mix of posts. Some things will be serious and some things, not so much.

Here's a Japanese screen shot of them explaining endo. It's super kawaii, like everything else they do.

DNA follow up

So after doing this based on my identity crisis from an older post, this is the result of what I'm made of. This was done out of Ancestry.com, AncestryDNA. I really thought that after this test my sisters and I would just know a little bit of what we are. Instead I've received DNA matches to potential cousins. Now the DNA says its 98% chance we're related. So now it's up to us to figure out how. Stories are surfacing, and new information is being discovered through digging around in my parents stuff. Well, okay, sister #1 is doing and is in charge of the research. I actually proved to be very bad at it and as I'm typing this now, I should be calling her.
Sorry :[

My health is questionable at this point, and two jobs is very time consuming. Hopefully I can contribute a little bit more to research. This is all very exciting and I think the more we uncover the past, the more we find out about a culture we had no idea we had. It's a journey I would like to document, along with my shitty health journey. I feel like I might not have the energy for both.

Sick sick sick

Week 3 of being sick and the husband that doesn't believe in going to the doctor unless you're gushing blood or have a broken bone decided I must go. Apparently 3 week illness isn't normal. Not even for me.
I could write a whole blog on over the counter medicine but it would more or less be a million pictures and one caption.
"Doesn't work for people who get sick ALL THE TIME "
I get my immune system is the worst. Even as a kid I remember being sick a lot, but kids usually do catch everything and weird hybrids of sickness probably undiscovered and unclassified by science.  As an adult you're either unhealthy or a hypochondriac.  I am neither and treated as both. I know people mean well with their tips but seriously, staaaahhhhp.
Earlier this year I went to  the doctor for strep throat, it went a little something like this:

"What are we seeing you for today? "

"I think I have strep throat. "

"Oh. Well we'll see about that."

5 questions and one strep test later.

"Well, you tested positive for strep. "

Story of my life.
Today's diagnosis is a mad sinus infection with a side of bronchitis.  I think my new  doctor gets it.

Indentity crisis, Yo.

Okay so maybe working at the donut shop has given me things I never really thought about before. As far as I was concerned I:
A) hate checking off anything that says "Latino /Hispanic (not white )" and usually refuse to.
B) I have always  Identified myself not by the last name Martinez, but by my first name.
I am Zadie,  it was supposed to be Sadie. My parents didn't tell me til I was, like 12. I accepted this as the stage that set the majority of the mishaps that comprise my life.
Now,  being Mexican,  I thought meant being Catholic and having a quincenera (sp?)  and celebrating other holidays,  And being super fluent in Spanish. 
Well growing up a Jehovah's witness, you don't get holidays. Holidays make up a good portion of culture.  So That's out. Growing up in southern Indiana wasnt exactly the hub of diversity so needless to say there were multiple times I was asked "how do you say taco?" by my classmates. And no,  they didn't believe my answer. 
"Taco."
It was important we knew English and as long as when mom is pissed and speaking to us in Spanish is completely understood, That's all that mattered.  So now, my spoken Spanish sucks.

That's a beautiful childhood story, I know. We fast forward to now and all my presumably Mexican customers hate me. Women mostly, one imparticular talks quickly and orders things I have to make special, I swear It's to throw me off.  Her name is "Dulce " and I can't get over the contradiction of her bitchiness and her name. Old men dont like me either and the older kids kind of laugh at my spanish and switch to English.
The nicest are men with little girls between 4-13. I dont know if that means anything. 
Now if all these people are pleased to the max when the white man learns one word in Spanish, yet I learn a new word every day and remember how they take their coffee or go out of my way to make them something and still acceptance level stays at zero.
I Dont want to be accepted by a large group of people that have rejected me.  I guess I'd just like to know why.
I remember moving to Texas for the first time as a kid and other students trying to decide if I was Mexican or not. Then talking amongst themselves to see who would ask me what question in Spanish to see if I answered. This was the cherry on top of being an ugly, awkward kid.
Am I a bad person for being happy most of these people already have a litter of children?
Nah.
So aside from childhood trauma (ha!)
My looks aren't an obvious que to who I am. If there are pale skinned, brown/blond haired, big boobied actresses on Univison, freaking Premier Impacto station, then who is my short, dark and plump regular customer to ask me where I'm from?
"Indiana."

"No. What about your mom "

"Mexico "

"What part?"

"Monterrey "

"No...your dad? "

"Texas"

"No..."

The fuck?  Who made these people the damn "policia" on who's who? Get off my nutsack and go tend to your offspring. Trust me you and your daughter have enough kids to worry about, without questioning me about my lack of.
So now I'm obsessed with whats all up in my gene pool to make me and my siblings look the way we do. DNA testing isn't cheap so a lot of thought and research and a little soul searching is happening. And other than being irritated my whole life, its not that I particularly care any more about "being Mexican " than I did when I was a kid, I don't see anything has changed except the same type of kids that questioned me back then grew up to question me now, or I met their judgemental parents/cousins /aunts . 

I do care about finding out what makes a Zadie.
I'm sure it'll be much better than the story of how my drugged up mom wrote an "s" backwards and thus a "Z" was born.

(Okay I was born first and then ^ that happened. Same difference, right? )

Gee gee gee

Once upon a time, I used to want to build things with my bare mitts.  With power tools. But upon realizing I have zero depth perception (thank you eyes. For. Nothing T__T) And my inability to draw, walk, or anything else in a straight line, the realization I'd forever be a less than handy woman,  set in.
I mean, I know how to change a tire and jump a car. In theory of course, not practice. And I hope if I have to do either, I'm not alone. I cringe to think I'll more than likely draw a blank under pressure and be teary eyed watching "How to " YouTube videos and texting for help.

Anyway...
Me attempting to fix anything with tools usually ends in me breaking and /or hurting myself.  My pride is usually in worse shape because I'm surrounded by what I made worse and wait for my Knight in shining armor to fix it. Always fixing it faster than I can blink and making everything look so simple I have no choice but to question my intelligence and basic motor skills. Ultimately I  take no responsibility and blame everyone else so I can sleep at night without thinking "Oh Gawd,  I'm Peter Griffin level re-tah-ded "

Under direct supervision I'm allowed to play with the power tools.