Pre-APP2017 nerves

For a second year in a row, Vegas will once again become an awkward home where I’ll live and study within the same building for one week, get a glimpse at the best body jewellery, and if I’m lucky enough, get the opportunity to tag along with others on new adventures and create social bonds. This year feels a little more nerve-wracking, knowing now what to expect and having new expectations for myself that step a bit further beyond my comfort zones. I’m inherently anxious about everything, if you couldn’t already pick that up. Not working in a shop also has me a bit apprehensive. I’m not a piercer or a shopbody to begin with, and while I do have minimal kinda apprenticeship experience, I currently spend six days a week at a local dry cleaners, scrubbing and pressing men’s dress shirts for those who can afford a stranger doing their laundry. A little ironic, considering the feminist label people have given me maybe, but as much as the repetitive day-in and day-out cycle has been bothering me for the last couple years of the four+ I’ve been there, it’s been a steady paycheque to afford my keep in a relationship, and nothing better has come my way. It’s much better than having to deal with the public when you look like a weirdo, if you haven’t experienced that joy for yourself already. As you can expect, it doesn’t pay well. Around 30 hours a week is all I manage to get. No medical benefits. I work alone in a small, sweaty station deemed “The Steam Dungeon” by yours truly. But in the beginning, it helped save me from a bout of depression. It broke the seemingly endless delivery streak of resumes to businesses and stores that would never acknowledge me in any manner, and it helped ease the pain of rejection and lack of a return call from the workplaces and volunteer situations I did manage to get through to. Of course at this same moment in time, the online persona was at it’s peak doing its own damage, which in turn created a cycle that needed to be broken. But now that I’m pretty much adulting and feeling settled in, I can’t say I’m feeling fulfilled, and it’s just another undesirable cycle I’ve fallen into. Maybe this is why people want kids around this point in life.

Depression has never been my biggest issue with mental health, and I consider myself very lucky for that. A more personal entry about mental illness and social disorder that’s taking a lot of time to get feeling just right has been in the works for a bit, so I’m not going to go into detail about that right now. However there’s a secret life that I’ve hinted at occasionally, but nobody really knows about. It’s not as scary (or as creepy😘) as it sounds, but I have unique problems, and they have made it difficult for me to fully become an independent adult in some ways, in turn preventing me from trying to work towards a happier and more fulfilling life. When I started hating the persona, going to the gym, finally got some sort of job, and started smoking some green and chilling the fuck out mentally for once, it was easier for me to see that I could be pretty damn capable if I tried enough. I just don’t give myself enough credit, and there’s nobody cheering me through the tough times, since they don’t even know what I’m going through. But it’s been better the last few years… not that it’s been at all an easy task to make happen, and there’s so much more work that still needs to be done.

A few years ago I reached out to a nearby piercer about a body piercing apprenticeship opportunity. This was maybe midway through the hermit phase (adult life up until now), and soon after returning to social media. It was one of my first few steps back into the modified community. Obviously it didn’t go as I had hoped back then, but it did get me moving in the right direction again, so it was successful to me in a way, and also made me feel very grateful for even being given the chance. A few safety classes later got me thinking about the Association of Professional Piercers conference, which was something I always felt was beyond my element because of my lack of industry integration but still wanted to check out, and last year was my first year out trying to mingle (which has an entry of its own!) So, at a crawl, I am trying to find my direction again.

While being involved with the industry in some professional manner has always been a hope of mine, it isn’t an easy path. Apprenticeships are unpaid and require years of time and effort. Finding someone with the right skills and training to teach you the ropes isn’t easy, and not just any shop is good enough to me, because of course I’m a haughty bitch. Also without apprenticeship regulation you can deal with a lot of bullshit from a mentor or other employees in this typically “less-than-professional” job setting, and that plays on your emotions and mentality. Not always so great for someone already struggling. Support systems have probably been very important to others who do work in shops, but that’s always been tricky turf for me. Comforting, listening, worrying about the needs and feelings of others, are all totally “me” traits. I’m always trying to be super considerate. Can’t cause tension or make any mistakes because that’s an inconvenience for others. Smiling because it’s the easiest way to respond. Naturally, it has been taken for granted and abused, and many situations where standing up for myself or speaking up about something was an appropriate thing to do just didn’t occur because of those traits. Let’s just say it’s been an interesting ride in a few… different ways than usual.

Oh yeah, I was talking about the piercer thing. Yeah, that’s something that’s been on the list for a real long time. But once things didn’t work out with the nearby APP member and his shop, and I talked too much without any action about moving a few hours away to apprentice in another shop and lost out, I’ve been feeling pretty stuck in daydream mode, merely tolerating my current daily life instead of enjoying it as much as I should be. Though a decision like leaving the only place you’ve ever known is hard to make without a decent job wage to start off on, or a new job waiting for you, or a car, or even knowing how to use that car, and of course you can’t forget about that partner you’ve been with for six years and what he thinks about that idea. Yeah, that’s probably the most emotional aspect of it all.

A lot is happening lately, but nothing is either. The conference is where I’m trying to seek out opportunities to change my life, but I know that means I’ll need to learn how to meet people and make connections to build a support group, and actually feel comfortable with that and learn to ask for help when it’s needed. So when I asked if he’d come with me if I were to shift my life an hour and a half northwest to follow a dream and he responded with a quick “no”, it definitely hit hard. Though I never expected him to go with me. He’s got a lot of family and friends here. His job is great, especially considering he didn’t do college or a trade apprenticeship (like I have). He’s likely got opportunity to move up in the company with time because he’s well-liked and works hard. Pension, benefits, good wage. I guess I just was hoping he would go to be with me.

Relationships are about sacrifice and compromise… says like, everyone. Not sure if I fully agree with that or not, but that’s definitely a part of it. We get along pretty well, maybe because we don’t have kids or a house or a marriage like other couples our age to trigger stress and fighting, leading to arguments about compromise. We have spare time and enough money for a trip or nights out and hobbies like a project car, which I encourage and like to be involved with too. But I’ve lost touch with my own lifelong hobbies and interests, and not knowing how to drive paired with my anxiety about it is limiting my growth as an adult and pressuring my relationship.

Two weeks ago, I had an IUD installed. Yeah I know, obviously not my first or really desired at all option (see “The right to become sterile“), but after chatting with a gynecologist willing to do the procedure on someone with my details it was decided mirena was an easier and cheaper option before anything permanent, and I already had the damn thing on me from a failed attempt with another gyno, which I now know is because of the narrowest cervix/lower uterus ever. Not only was it the most agonizing ten minutes of my life to have installed (which I was given the most sincere and plentiful praise for handling so well), I had to go back and have it pushed in even further because an ultrasound showed it wasn’t quite in the uterus, on the first day of my period about a week later, and it has been absolute hell ever since.

Jessy talked me into going to the emergency room. I didn’t want to go to the hospital in town because of how the staff has treated me on multiple occasions, so we went a little further away, me squirming and breathing deeply in the passenger seat through the pain the entire way. The last four evenings have been like this following the readjustment, progressively worsening with each episode until it became completely crippling. I’ve never been in so much pain, and there’s a few surgeries and tough procedures under my belt that I’ve never taken medication for. Pills terrify me, and although I smoke weed, I avoid all common substances as much as possible (even coffee), the only exception being an advil for menstrual cramps twice daily for the first three days to keep discomfort at bay. Difficult periods are in my past, but this IUD game is like nothing I’ve ever played before. Probably three hours went by in the same state, clenching and struggling to manage the pain on my own, trying not to cause a scene since I looked like the only desperate person there, before a doctor finally saw me and offered morphine and I hesitantly requested the lowest possible dose after needing to be persuaded by Jessy once again. By the time it began kicking in a while later, I was being brought to a room to change into a gown by a russian man for xrays (ultrasound was closed for the night), apparently not realizing I was attached to the machine I was rolling with me and walked away, me quickly realizing I couldn’t remove my tops like he asked. I glanced in the mirror and mentally remarked on how horrible a person can look through an experience like this (especially without makeup as a woman), and tried fixing my hair a bit and wiping my face. He already appeared aggravated by me through standard conversation, regardless of my quiet cooperation, so I spent a moment trying to release the IV on my own and opened the door and stood outside when I couldn’t, waiting for help. He yelled for me down the hall instead of coming for me, and I yelled out that there was a problem. He appeared even more aggravated when I said I couldn’t remove my sleeve because of the drip, mentioning I didn’t want it anymore anyway. Being in shock for so long with the morphine finally kicking in, and his thick accent spotted with broken english made it difficult for me to immediately realize what his response to me was, but it went something like “No, we can’t take it out. I told them… you people come in off the streets and they give you this *touches IV line* you don’t need this. No, I can’t take it off. I keep telling them about people like you.” Another nurse had approached us during his spiel, and I couldn’t even respond, just swapping gaze with each of them—mouth agape—until the woman said “Well let’s see what you’ve got on” very kindly, and we realized nothing needed to be removed anyway. Her demeanor and responses to the man told me this mood of his wasn’t just because he woke up on the wrong side of the bed that day, and she was very respectful to me, making sure I was okay. The man appeared to think I was in for a chest xray, maybe mistaking me for another younger woman in the waiting room who complained of chest pain with a laugh to another person who asked what she was in for, both in the same waiting area as me earlier on. Disdainfully, he asks what brought me here as we prepared for the chest xray, and I explained my situation. Immediately—without any exaggeration—his tone lowers and softens like I’m a cancer patient, in for yet another uncertain round of testing. He chose gentle, sympathetic terms, offered his hand to help me around, held the door for me when I left after both the chest and pelvic xrays were complete. This shit is why I hate dealing with people. He couldn’t even acknowledge the assumption he made about me with an apology, and that’s what bothers me most. There’s always a risk of taking flack for your appearance in public when you’re modified, and I’ve had so much difficulty with the health system because of my appearance. My bloodwork and urine was done that night, and many times in the past. My medication history also easily accessible. This is probably the worst example of judgment I’ve faced so far, while in the most excruciating situation in my life. Thankfully the rest of the people working that night were pleasant or at least performed their job as they should have (even though some apprehension was in the air at first), and I left six hours later pain-free with xrays and ct scans showing proper IUD placement and no perforation, with a couple pain prescriptions I’ll probably try to avoid taking. Good news overall, but that leaves me with the decision on what to do about this hormonal piece of plastic. Leave it, hope it gets better, or take it out and risk pregnancy all the time all over again. I haven’t even been able to enjoy the damn thing yet!

Dealing with birth control always gets me thinking about the heterosexual relationship dynamic and what women risk with different methods. And there’s not really anything men can do instead of women that’s as effective and safer without considering surgery. That’s just the way it is, which if we were to split wouldn’t change my ability to become pregnant, and nobody (including a partner) has the right to tell a person what to do to their own body. But it brings back the idea of compromise, because I don’t want to get pregnant and I don’t want to have to worry about condoms and we still dig having sex with each other. An hour and a half away from here doesn’t seem like that big a deal, especially considering a four hour distance was my previous relationship’s obstacle, but the big difference there was that we had met through the internet and that was a compromise we both agreed to based on the situation—until of course I ended it four years later, a big reason being because of the distance and how he didn’t seem interested in changing it. My fear of driving causes tension already, so it’s pretty safe to assume that things wouldn’t get better if visits were required to see one another, knowing I wouldn’t be able to afford my own transportation in order to make the effort to see him for a while if I did pack up and leave to follow a dream. Which lands me in the middle of a distressing couple of decisions. Stay here, get a car, learn to cope with panic behind the wheel, get a job that pays better but isn’t something I particularly love, find a way to be involved with the industry in some other way in my spare time, and keep my relationship in tact and try and find a house we can afford and enjoy our future for however long it lasts. Or, pack up when an amazing opportunity comes up to apprentice, find a job or two to support myself on top of it, and work my ass off on my own and stay on my own to focus on the industry. Because I don’t think it’s fair nor realistic to expect a partnership to continue separately, when that bond becomes needed more than ever.

All of my relationships have been long, and there’s always been someone around drawing me in to them. I intended on being alone for a while at the end of my previous partnership just so I could figure out myself a bit, since I got into that interconnection immediately after my very first one. That’s a lot of time thinking about another person when you began locking yourself down at 14, so it’s safe to say I’ve fantasized about what I’d be up to if I were single and felt confident enough to step out of my box. I know where I’d like to be.

So, sacrifice and compromise really can play a big part in relationships, and there’s a lot to consider as conference inches closer and closer. At least the IUD complications have served as a distraction from hypotheticals and the future of my emotional attachments, and I’ve got a level head and well-rounded pain tolerance to help get me through it all. Your words of wisdom are also deeply appreciated at this time!