Do you remember the first time you got the sex talk?
I still remember it very clearly. I was 10 or 11 and my mom sat me down in my bedroom with a ton of books and she showed me pictures of all the parts of the reproductive system and explained to me what sex was and how it happened and how women got pregnant and what a period was. It was a very in depth talk and I’m thankful I got it a full two years before the health class at my stuffy private Christian school gave the talk.
Imagine all the girls in your 6th grade class being filed out of the classroom into a new room and then having your teacher inform you that the next few health classes are going to be girls only (and boys only on the other side) so that they can explain sex and human anatomy to you. Yeah. Separate classrooms. And our teacher was so uncomfortable telling us about sex that I thought she was going to crawl right out of her skin and let her dermis stay and give the lesson.
Anyway, I digress, I’m glad I got a good talk from someone who was comfortable talking to me about sex. Even though I didn’t have any for another 8 years.
My point is, I had to sit down with myself recently and have another little biology talk with myself. It started out eerily similar to the sex talk I had with my mom all those years ago.
“Now, Kelly, you’re going to notice some changes in your body. You’ll be experiencing things differently and that’s OK, but you just need to listen to your body and do what’s right for it.”
I had this talk with myself because, like a moron, I tried to get back on the Pill again after being off it for about 6 months.
I was a little hesitant because of the previous experience I had had with an oral contraceptive and the horrible craziness it produced. It was deemed “THE WOLF” by my ex and I think that is a fairly accurate representation.
But, I figured, that was a three month pill and that’s why it made me so crazy, surely going back to old faithful, Ortho Tricyclen wouldn’t yield poor results.
Well, I’m here to tell you that it did. This past week, I put SOMEONE through hell. He was a champ and dealt with me as a sobbed over the most trivial things and snapped about issues that were figments of my imagination. I had to stand there and watch, as if hovering above my body, as I went bat shit crazy for a week. Things would come out of my mouth and the real me would watch in horror, trapped behind a barrier of hormones that weren’t my own, as I went on this downward spiral.
Yet for some reason, I thought, “Maybe I just need to normalize on this. I’ll just do one more month to see if I get better. I never used to be like this.”
Then Sunday, I sat down with myself and had the talk. Obviously, my body has changed and the hormones in the pill are no longer good for me. I can be sane and off the pill (and look for something new since I don’t like not being on some form of BC) or I can stay on BC and go completely mental every single month and wind up hurting, maybe losing, SOMEONE that I kind of like a lot.
I didn’t pick up a refill for my prescription. And I never will.
I’m researching alternatives (Implanon was suggested by a dear friend and I’m still considering an IUD if I reach a point when I can afford it), but meanwhile, a thin layer of latex is protecting me from playing host to a parasite that first feeds off my own blood and nutrients, then off my bank account for 18 long years. Yeah, I still haven’t eased up on that No Baby Clause.
As terrifying as that thought is, the thought of not being able to control my own emotions is even more horrifying to me and I won’t be giving up on my sanity anytime soon.
I’m glad the talk with myself went well.
Although, I did giggle every time I mentioned penises or sex.
EDIT: Well, that’s three ladies who are all for the IUD. I had no idea it was becoming so common.