Showing posts with label personal horror story. Show all posts
Showing posts with label personal horror story. Show all posts

Saturday, January 17, 2015

A Personal Period Story - But Not Necessarily A Horror Story

Yesterday was the day of killer cramps for me. I was okay until about midday, when the cramps hit me hard while I was trying to clean my room. At first I was okay with walking around holding a heatbag to my stomach, but just after my mum left to do some errands they became unbearable.
I laid down on my bed and rolled around a bit painfully while my cats watched me with confusion. I started chanting tongue-twisters to take my mind off the cramps. When they failed, I started on poems from Doctor Who, and once I'd used them up I started yelling Linkin Park songs at the top of my lungs. ("I-TRIED-SO-HARD-AND-GOT-SO-FAR-BUT-IN-THE-END - !") Soon, I ran out of songs that I could remember the lyrics to. My mum came home to find me in tears, halfheartedly muttering, "I bleed it out, digging deeper just to throw it ... away ..." (So fitting.)
She sat down and made jokes about my kitten and tried to encourage me to get up and do some exercise, as that always helps me, but I was certain it wouldn't help now. Dead certain. I clung to my heatbag while she added that exercise had helped me every single time I'd ever cramped. My dad came home and tried to convince me to get up and move around. I ignored him, too.
Finally, I decided I couldn't take it anymore. I made my mum promise that getting out and moving would help, and I crawled out of bed.
After a minute of discussion, my parents decided to drive me up the mountain near our house to see the sunset from the lookout. My dad pulled up Youtube music on his phone, music that we could all sing along and jam too. We jammed, even me, and I ignored the cramps as best I good.
We got to the top just as the sun was setting. My mum ran me to the edge of the lookout and we watched the last wisps of sun set. We waved at the people belong, knowing that they couldn't see us. Then we decided it was too cold to stand outside any longer and ran back to the car.
On the way back down, my dad picked out all the fun dubstep songs on his phone, and mum held back all her hatred for those songs (not a dubstep fan, let me tell you) until we got to the bottom of the mountain, where she made us turn them off.
But that was okay, cause them she bought everyone ice cream. I ate my ice cream slowly; I felt very tired. The cramps were just about gone, though they still lingered annoyingly.
As soon as we got home, my mum gave me this official prescription: "Go curl up in bed and watch Sherlock. Doctor's orders."
So I put the last of my ice cream in the fridge, curled up, grabbed my computer and turned on Sherlock. Soon, the feels were too much - the cramps just had to go. After one episode I was feeling well enough to watch Gilmore Girls with the family during dinner. The cramps hung around in the background like they wished to come back but they didn't.
After dinner, I curled up with my cat for a little while and that was it for the cramps. No! they yelled. You're too happy! You need to be crying and thinking about us! And then they were whisked away by the sound of my cat purring. I felt fine the rest of the evening and I'm doing just as well today.

I knew I had awesome parents before this, but now, well, I don't know what to say. Thanks Mama and Papa :)
And so that this post isn't just a really long cramps story, next time you're cramping, try getting out of the house. Even if you feel like you could never ever do that. And if that doesn't work or you can't bring yourself to do it, Sherlock/Doctor Who/[Insert Fandom Show Here] will probably help.

Sunday, October 26, 2014

The Blood-Red, White, and Blue- a Horror Story

About a month ago, on a sunny September day, my friend Em and I were walking around our town's annual Patriot Fair, attending lectures in an attempt to get extra-credit in our AP US History class.  I don't know why I wasn't prepared for my period to come.  It had been over a month since my last one, and I should have been wearing a panty liner.  But I was rushed that morning and just wanted to get out of the house, so lo and behold I forgot. 
We were listening to a man dressed as Frederick Douglass talk about his life as a slave when I felt the telltale stickiness in my underwear.  The lecture still had about 15 minutes to go, so I shifted my position in the chair, tightened my stomach, and hoped I wouldn't start bleeding again until the lecture was over.  As soon as it was, I tapped Em and said, "Um, do you have any... girl things with you that I can use?  I'm having a slight issue here."
Thankfully for me, she did.  We went to the bathroom and she handed me what had to be the world's smallest, skinniest tampon with the most slippery applicator.  Now, to be fair, Em is about the skinniest person I have ever seen, but the slippery applicator was really not cool.  I managed to get the tampon about halfway in at a weird, slightly uncomfortable angle that I knew wouldn't stop much blood (not that the tampon was going to work well anyway, based on its size), but it would have to do.  I checked my shorts for bloodstains and, seeing none, wrapped toilet paper around my underwear and left.  I'd done the best I could do.
Unfortunately, I still had about 5 more hours there, which is a long time when you're already cramping and now have a tampon poking you.  But I went through the day and the second I got home I went to the bathroom to change into something more useable.  I'd bled through the toilet paper and more onto my underwear, so I checked my shorts again.
I hope I wasn't walking around with that big rusty stain for too long at the fair.  You don't even want to know how many teachers and kids in my class were there.
Moral of the story?  Be prepared.  Sacrifice 5 minutes of your sleep if you have to, but be prepared.

Thursday, October 16, 2014

Panty-Liners Are Not Pads: A Personal Horror Story

By Paige


      Sometime near Halloween last year, there was an event at our church. We carved pumpkins and roasted marshmallows and other stuff like that. I was on my flow, and had no clue about the difference between pads and panty-liners.
       For those of you who don't know, panty-liners are for near the end of your period, when you're fairly sure it's over, but want to make sure. They're small, thin, and not very absorbent. Pads are thicker and less likely to leak. And at the time, it was near the beginning and I didn't even think about it.
       Well, about halfway through the event, an older teen points out fresh-looking blood on one of the benches.
       The bench I had been sitting on.
       My mom, after covering for me, pulls me aside. She asks if I'm on my period. Yes. She asks if I'm wearing a pad. Yes.
       She asks whether it's a panty-liner.
       I had no clue. She explained the difference between the two, and I felt ridiculously embarrassed.
Having no extra pads, or anything useful for that matter, I have to spend the rest of the picnic trying to hide the bloodstain. I had to sit on a towel on the way home so I didn't stain the car.
       I don't think I've ever touched panty-liners since.
      Moral of the story: Know your products. It'll help you avoid awkward situations.