Sometimes I just want to be a story teller...
This story made me laugh and cringe and cry all while writing it. It's real and honest. I don't like holding anything back. If you ever wondered...YES, this is how I actually talk and think inside my head (and sometimes outside)
I don't know what it is but something feels terrible. Somewhere between my neck and my asshole.
I go about my daily routine and work hours while trying to ignore it. "IT" is making me irritable and moody. Why do my guts feel so bad? It's like they're sick.
There are pain and cramps accompanied by the onset of some of the worst farts you've ever smelled. I'm not even joking. I go for a night trail run with Ryan and a couple friends through the meet-up group. I'm always the runner at the back of the group because running=farting+pooping for me. At one point we stop to decide where we go next and I let rip. I made sure to make it quiet because I didn't know these people all that well. Usually, I just let it *Brrrraaap* around strangers because it's ME. I feel like I should just get this out of the way right off the bat. It's my style, I don't hide my fartitude. If I did my belly might explode. Most of the time people laugh and appreciate my no holds bar way. I enjoy farting and laughing about it. I don't know why people get so embarrassed.
The fart drifted not very far and Ryan turns to me and says "DID YOU FART?" I'm like, "I sure did!" with a smile. I often expect strangers to laugh but, well, they didn't laugh. I'm not sure what they thought but I don't think they like me now (not that they liked me before for all I know). Now I'm that weird chick who farts out loud and OWNS it! That weird girl.
We got home to start the barrage of shit that we have to do in the evening. It's going on 8:30pm. We have to prep lunches for the next day, clean the weasel cage, have showers (in our piddly stupid barely-a-shower-shower with just a sprinkle of hot water and no pressure- OH shitty apartment living). We have to make dinner and unpack followed by repacking for our active lives. We launder a lot of workout clothes I'll tell ya. I was farting the whole way and really, they were just leaking out of me at this point. Ryan was beginning to get annoyed. I kept apologizing over and over because they were the most hideously filthy, vile farts. Something was really wrong inside me. There was NO STOPPING the air biscuits.
The nausea set in and although I made some tasty rice cakes with avocado and tomato, they never got eaten. Instead I made ginger tea, STILL farting.
Shakes, headaches and nausea. Cramps, bloating and major GI distress.
I dragged him back to bed and waited for him to fall asleep. I clenched my farts into submission. I couldn't fall asleep anyway feeling the way I was. I crawled out to the couch because that's where my dirty no good ass and I belong. It's not fair to him. I still couldn't sleep. The minutes were passing and my ass was gassing, the nausea not going anywhere.
Eventually I fell asleep, I think. I'm not sure. I woke up around 5am startled wondering where I was. I slept on and off for 3 whole short hours.
The pain and nausea were still very much there. I really wanted to call in sick to work. I listened to my meditation app in hopes that it would calm my nerves. It sort of did, for a minute or two. *joy* I went about my morning routine. Coffee was a bad choice but a necessary one given the lack of sleep. I made my green smoothie and proceeded to watch it go gross on my desk at work because I was too nauseated to drink it. OH MY SHIT!!!! I just realized it's still sitting at work under my desk!! ohhhhhhh fuuuuuck. That's going to be pleasant come Monday morning... MAJOR OOPS!
I fought the bags under my eyes. I fought the shakes and chills and nausea. This is my life. This is anxiety and the worst part? I don't even know what triggered it.
This goes with one of my last posts of why I gained weight and how this process works. Anxiety sets in and I stop eating for a long time. Sometimes upwards of a day or two. Looks like my good run is over.