Ways To Shine Even Brighter In 2013

It's that time of year again! The year we're standing in is drawing to a close, and an entire brand spanking new one is on the verge of opening it's arms. It's exciting! I do think that Birthdays are the mark of a new year for everyone in a personal way, but midnight on New Years Eve is something the whole world can share. Whether we're Catholic or Muslim or Canadian or Australian, gay or straight, rich or poor or stupid enough to eat a burger with melted butter on it (because that does exist at Steak n Shake), the calendar starts over again. 

(That's right, right? I know there's a Chinese New Year that's not right now, but they still recognize January 1st, right? Perhaps I'll Google that before posting...)

This year, inspired by an article my boyfriend sent me, instead of coming up with a bunch of resolutions that sometimes lead to disappointment in ourselves, I have decided to compose a list of revelations. A list of things, some profound and some obvious, I KNOW will help make this new year even better then the one ending. 

1) You don't ALWAYS have to be SO brave. 

I'd been craving a little crazy in my life, so I used the salon gift certificate won at my friend's Champagne fundraiser and dyed my hair purple! Before going purple though, you must get bleached. So the bleach went in, and sat there, and I sat under the dryer...and I slowly sank from under the dryer, and then I started shaking, and then I tried breathing slow and calmly, and then I ran outside and started crying. Lol. Bottom line, I now have a little chemical burn on my scalp because I didn't wan to be a cry baby, I was trying to be brave and suck it up. But pain and panic and fear does occasionally occur for a good reason. 

2. When you find yourself asking, 'Why me?', take an actually minute to list 3 things you are thankful for.

Instead of rhyming off that age old 'Someone’s always got it worse', be productive. In that moment when you're wondering 'Why me?', it sometimes seems impossible that anyone could be feeling worse then you are. "I'm lying on my bathroom floor shaking and sweating and throwing up after shitting my pants...and you're trying to tell ME that someone is feeling even worse then this right now? Fuck you."

But even when lying on the bathroom floor (feeling like your) dying, you can take a minute, in your head or on paper, or out loud, to list three things you're thankful for. Reminding yourself of the good in your life, even if its just three teeny things (like, Grey's Anatomy is on tonight), it becomes easier to appreciate the little things, easier to see that in fact some might be worse off. 

3. In a similar fashion, when you're heart starts hurting for the ones you've lost, remember those you still have. 

It's far easier said then done, this I know, but it's trying that counts. I'm not so much talking about loves ones who have passed away. While its important to keep most of our focus on the living, I'd never ask a person cut their mourning period short. Losing a twenty-something friend to cancer, that shit's going to sting well into 2013. And that's ok. 

But the exboyfriends, the best friends you've spent so much time missing when songs about best friends come on the radio, this is the year to realize that you're better off. It's strange, and mean, the way our brains seem to recall the good times so much quicker then the reasons the good times ended. Why is that? Some sappy song plays and we're thinking about first kisses and weekly Bachelor dates, instead of how badly it hurt when they cheated on us, or told us we were worthless. 

Instead of remembering those good times or those bad times, remember the numbers in your address book that you can still text at all hours of the night, even when you're in Florida! It's not seeing someone every day that makes a best friend, it's those who treat you the best (no matter what), and that's who we need to spend our feelings on. 

4. Keep less CRAP in your home. 

This is one will be a bit of a struggle for me. 

While piles of old magazines and months-worth of newspapers, or the 63 boxes of laundry detergent you picked up during your coupon-clipping phase last year is also crap that you should clean your home of, I'm talking about salty and sugary and delicious crap!

I'm a snacker. I'm not big into big meals, I like to have little snacks whenever I'm actually feeling hungry. However, when there's chips or cakes or Double Bubble in the house, I'll snack on those,only because they’re there. It's all about eliminating to opportunity. I have a mega sweet tooth, but if there's no sweets in the house, I admit defeat and move on. And I don't feel guilty at the end of the day. Or get fat!

5. Having said that, get your just-desserts!

I'm not a drinker, so I don't really want to catch up over drinks, and caffeine makes my tummy angry so I don't love coffee dates. That's why I like cake dates! If you're strong enough to keep things in moderation, there's nothing wrong with having dessert for dinner, especially when sharing it with a friend (or lover). Just make sure you have fruits and veggies for breakfast and lunch first, lol. Unless its your Birthday! Then it's cake dates for all meals!

6. Nap!

This one is my favorite, and I did it all this year too! I just figure that by writing about it, it'll feel more justified. 

Sleep is good for you! I'm a firm believer in sleeping when you're sleepy. If the time is available, give your bod a break, and do not feel guilty about it, no matter what your boyfriend says! ;)

7. Listen to more (good) music. 

(and 'good' music is of course according to your own acquired taste)

I don't even remember the last time I realized I had a half hour to kill and turned iTunes on instead of streaming the 4th season on Criminal Minds. Maybe that's just my habit, and in all honesty I'll probably never break it completely (have you seen Criminal Minds?!), but nothing beats that feeling when your ear catches a beat and your whole soul is filled. Right now I only play the albums I was so excited to download (I wonder if anyone out there is resolving to stop illegally downloading...lol) when I'm at the gym. 

(I also need to go to the gym more then once a week.)

Spend time laying on your floor just listening to music. Loudly! Unless it's midnight and you don't live alone. 

8. Hug more!

I seriously think the world is in desperate need of more positive physical affection. 

I work in a school, so I know how antsy people can about physical contact. I remember the 'no touching' rule they tried out, when I was in high school. Teachers didn't feel comfortable singling out the slutty kids fornicating in front of homeroom, so instead they handed out detention to couple walking to class holding hands, and bffs hugging in the cafeteria. While I understand that we don't want to encourage kids to be freely sexual before they're old enough to be, I have always thought its wrong to unconsciously teach them that all touching is wrong. I'm sure that some parents may feel uncomfortable with teachers hugging their students, but at the same time, it'd just be rude for me to tell a 4 year old to fuck off when they come at me with open arms. 

Hugs are happy things! Challenge Day (Google it) taught us that 8 hugs a day helps a human being achieve maximum health and happiness. You should also look up the 'Free Hugs In Paris' video, and I dare you not to literally feel your heart grow. 

Some day I will teach my children that there are right and wrong ways to touch people. I'll tell them that there are in fact bad people out there who like to touch kids the wrong way, but that it's very ok to hug a classmate after they offer to share their (peanut free) snack. 

9. Get away. 

I've been lucky. I am lucky! My parents have two weeks of Myrtle Beach timeshare between the two of them, and my dad has this place in Florida that we can all take advantage of, so I get away a lot. And it feels good! 

But it doesn't take two weeks in the sun to feel that 'away' feeling. A sleepover in a hotel bed does the trick! And these days you can find all kinds of deals online for cheap rooms. Don't go drinking for a weekend or two, and you can 'get a room'! Make sure you go early, as soon as you're allowed to check in, and always ask for a late check out to maximize your vaca. Use up all the free shampoo, go to the pool, use their treadmills, get up early for the continental breakfast and then go back to bed. Even if the hotel is 10 minutes from your house, there's something about sleeping in a new bed and being away from the pile of laundry that's needed to be done for weeks, that rejuvenates the soul. 

10. Dance like nobody's watching (even though everyone IS watching because your moves are sweet).
Burning calories is never more fun then when you're doing it dancing. I think our bodies were built to dance! Whether its in your undies home alone, in a sweaty claustrophobic club, or on stage in a tutu, wake up your sleepy bored-just-walking muscles and groove. 

I love going out to dance with friends, but in these chilly months the desire lessens because of the wait outside. And sometimes after working all week I'm not motivated to shower and get dressed up for a Friday night out. So this year I'm going to work dance classes at the gym into my regular schedule. I actually haven't been to a class before, but something tells me it's far more fun, and passes the exercise-time faster then an elliptical. 

And that's all I've got for now! Hey, 10 things is a lot, lol. 

Below is the link to the article of inspiration. I don't normally ask things of 'my readers', but I'd really appreciate it if you could leave a comment adding to the list, adding to my list, suggestions to enhance our lives physically, emotionally, mentally, and personally in 2013. 

However you spend it, here's wishes for a brand-new beautiful year, from my castle to yours ;)


http://thoughtcatalog.com/2012/29-ways-to-make-2013-better/

My Princess Hair

Because I wanted to know

In the few days leading up to my IUD date, I spent obvious time Googling for tips and facts. Firstly, LEAST romantic date ever. Secondly, nothing I found online prepared me for this experience, and I knew no one personally who'd had an IUD, so I was blindsided. That's how my luck rolls!
There are a few most-important questions which I have now (after nearly 3 weeks) been able to answer for anyone who's considering taking similar steps down the PMS/birth control road. 

1. Does it hurt?
Fuck yes. 

Like a capitol F-uck. 

The night before the insertion procedure, you're given (and by given I mean it's just one more thing you have to PAY for) tablets. Thankfully, I had the mind to ask 'do you take them with food?' The answer is no, you stick them up your vagina!

The tablets are meant to help soften your cervix, to make the IUD insertion easier. The doctor and the pharmacist said you I was fine to do it right before bed. What they didn't specify is, if you plan on being too damn anxious to sleep, at least put them in before 2am. And drink LOTS. According to the poor nurse who had to witness my ordeal the next morning, part of the tablets were still just sitting around up in there, not doing their job. I'd taken an Ativan 20 minutes earlier, at least. 

The doctor puts that tube-thing in, and cracks it open. The first like...1.8 seconds is fine. It felt like the PAP swab they do during your annual check up. And then the tool hit what I am assuming was my actual uterus. And then there was this pain, that makes me nauseous just thinking about how to describe it. 

Ever stubbed your toe so suddenly and hard, that you feel nauseous? It was like electric shock therapy, inside my lower abdomen. But faulty shock therapy clearly, because my uterus is still a psychopathic asshole. The pain came so fast and so sharp that I just passed out. And my lovely doctor decided it beat to wait until I came to, and settled a little (aka took another Ativan) before telling me 'oh! We just have to go in there once more to finish up!' I THINK, after inserting the thing, the doctor then has to go back in to snip the wires. 

That time, the pain was bad enough to make me puke. While I had no pants on. Just gagging and chocking over a garbage can, in front of the doctor and the nurse and my boyfriend, with no pants on. A typical Monday morning, really! Luckily is been too nervous to eat. And luckily I knew myself and my anxiety well enough to take the day off ahead of time. Instead on taking my boyfriend out for breakfast as a 'thanks for holding my hand' treat, we went home and I took Gravol, and spooned my heating pad to sleep all day. 

2. Sex?

One thing I did find the night before my appointment, was a YouTube video by a girl who'd recently gotten her IUD, talking about sex. Apparently her doctor didn't cut the wires short enough, so the first time she and her husband had sex, 'it was like being stabbed repeatedly'. 

Ps. If I were being stabbed during sex, I'd probably just stop having sex. No?

Well, my wires were cut well! But that assurance hasn't made sex much easier. I hope that sooner then later I will simply forget all about this THING inside my body and go about regular business with no care at all, but for now it's all I can really think about. I've always been an over-thinker, and slightly paranoid! So of course any time there is a new, uncomfy feeling in there, I panic and assume its the IUD slowly chipping away at the walls of my uterus, like the Shawshank guy, desperate to escape. 

The doctor assured me that it was perfectly fine to have sex as soon as I wanted, after the procedure. But I think he was strictly referring to the physical fineness. It took some time for me to THINK that it was safe to have anything else in there, after the trauma it suffered in the doctors office. But maybe that's just me! 

3. What are the side effects?

This is one of those things that is different for everyone. All drugs work that way. While I was visiting Homewood, I sampled like 4 different anti anxiety meds, and only Celexa allowed me to feel the benefits without crazy side effects. I've definitely been enduring side effects with the IUD, though. Mind you it hasn't been quite 3 weeks yet, so I'm still hopeful everything will settle and regulate. 

I was most worried about the threat of acne. It's something I've always been self conscious about, though. I remember crying when going to my first dermatologist appointment in high school, because I had to leave the house without makeup. Actually, I only started on the pill to help with my face. It's the vanity in me, being more worried about zits, or weight gain, as a posed to my body physically rejecting the IUD, and bleeding out in my sleep. But my face is as fine as it was a month ago, and my appetite is actually smaller. 

My hormones feel completely fucked, on the other hand. It's like PMS 24/7, but with no threat of an actual tampon-needing period. Ive been spotting ever since, which i find revolting. When I'm on my period I always feel (on top of pain and nausea) unclean. It's a naturally messy situation that leaves me feeling gross even right out of the shower. The IUD is supposed minimize female-only costs by getting rid of your period, but so far it's been extra boxes of panty liners and baby wipes. 

Speaking of which, I've got to assume that people think I'm pregnant. I walk around holding my lower stomach (why do we think that this helps the hurt?), and the other day a father picking his kid up at school, caught me bent over in pain and asked if I was ok. My acting skills are fading...

Last weekend I cried approximately 94 times. I always felt choked up, just waiting for some Christmas commercial or hug good bye to set me off. I get awful cramps on and off all day...like 3000-4000mg of Advil a day-worth. And my nipples! I can not for the life of me even pull a Tshirt over my head without them hurting! I mean is that really necessary? Boobs were given to women for a very important reason, why must they become a punishment? Uteruses were also made part of a woman for a VERY important reason...don't even get me started on the unfairness of the female anatomy. 
1. Does it hurt?
Fuck yes. 
Like a capitol F-uck. 
The night before the insertion procedure, you're given (and by given I mean it's just one more thing you have to PAY for) tablets. Thankfully, I had the mind to ask 'do you take them with food?' The answer is no, you stick them up your vagina!
The tablets are meant to help soften your cervix, to make the IUD insertion easier. The doctor and the pharmacist said you I was fine to do it right before bed. What they didn't specify is, if you plan on being too damn anxious to sleep, at least put them in before 2am. And drink LOTS. According to the poor nurse who had to witness my ordeal the next morning, part of the tablets were still just sitting around up in there, not doing their job. I'd taken an Ativan 20 minutes earlier, at least. 
The doctor puts that tube-thing in, and cracks it open. The first like...1.8 seconds is fine. It felt like the PAP swab they do during your annual check up. And then the tool hit what I am assuming was my actual uterus. And then there was this pain, that makes me nauseous just thinking about how to describe it. 
Ever stubbed your toe so suddenly and hard, that you feel nauseous? It was like electric shock therapy, inside my lower abdomen. But faulty shock therapy clearly, because my uterus is still a psychopathic asshole. The pain came so fast and so sharp that I just passed out. And my lovely doctor decided it beat to wait until I came to, and settled a little (aka took another Ativan) before telling me 'oh! We just have to go in there once more to finish up!' I THINK, after inserting the thing, the doctor then has to go back in to snip the wires. 
That time, the pain was bad enough to make me puke. While I had no pants on. Just gagging and chocking over a garbage can, in front of the doctor and the nurse and my boyfriend, with no pants on. A typical Monday morning, really! Luckily is been too nervous to eat. And luckily I knew myself and my anxiety well enough to take the day off ahead of time. Instead on taking my boyfriend out for breakfast as a 'thanks for holding my hand' treat, we went home and I took Gravol, and spooned my heating pad to sleep all day. 
2. Sex?
One thing I did find the night before my appointment, was a YouTube video by a girl who'd recently gotten her IUD, talking about sex. Apparently her doctor didn't cut the wires short enough, so the first time she and her husband had sex, 'it was like being stabbed repeatedly'. 
Ps. If I were being stabbed during sex, I'd probably just stop having sex. No?
Well, my wires were cut well! But that assurance hasn't made sex much easier. I hope that sooner then later I will simply forget all about this THING inside my body and go about regular business with no care at all, but for now it's all I can really think about. I've always been an over-thinker, and slightly paranoid! So of course any time there is a new, uncomfy feeling in there, I panic and assume its the IUD slowly chipping away at the walls of my uterus, like the Shawshank guy, desperate to escape. 
The doctor assured me that it was perfectly fine to have sex as soon as I wanted, after the procedure. But I think he was strictly referring to the physical fineness. It took some time for me to THINK that it was safe to have anything else in there, after the trauma it suffered in the doctors office. But maybe that's just me! 
3. What are the side effects?
This is one of those things that is different for everyone. All drugs work that way. While I was visiting Homewood, I sampled like 4 different anti anxiety meds, and only Celexa allowed me to feel the benefits without crazy side effects. I've definitely been enduring side effects with the IUD, though. Mind you it hasn't been quite 3 weeks yet, so I'm still hopeful everything will settle and regulate. 
I was most worried about the threat of acne. It's something I've always been self conscious about, though. I remember crying when going to my first dermatologist appointment in high school, because I had to leave the house without makeup. Actually, I only started on the pill to help with my face. It's the vanity in me, being more worried about zits, or weight gain, as a posed to my body physically rejecting the IUD, and bleeding out in my sleep. But my face is as fine as it was a month ago, and my appetite is actually smaller. 
My hormones feel completely fucked, on the other hand. It's like PMS 24/7, but with no threat of an actual tampon-needing period. Ive been spotting ever since, which i find revolting. When I'm on my period I always feel (on top of pain and nausea) unclean. It's a naturally messy situation that leaves me feeling gross even right out of the shower. The IUD is supposed minimize female-only costs by getting rid of your period, but so far it's been extra boxes of panty liners and baby wipes. 
Speaking of which, I've got to assume that people think I'm pregnant. I walk around holding my lower stomach (why do we think that this helps the hurt?), and the other day a father picking his kid up at school, caught me bent over in pain and asked if I was ok. My acting skills are fading...
Last weekend I cried approximately 94 times. I always felt choked up, just waiting for some Christmas commercial or hug good bye to set me off. I get awful cramps on and off all day...like 3000-4000mg of Advil a day-worth. And my nipples! I can not for the life of me even pull a Tshirt over my head without them hurting! I mean is that really necessary? Boobs were given to women for a very important reason, why must they become a punishment? Uteruses were also made part of a woman for a VERY important reason...don't even get me started on the unfairness of the female anatomy. 
So, for now, this IUD business receives an F grade from me. I have decided that I'll give it 2 months. How can I voluntarily feel this way for more then 60 days? But when it makes you puke and pass out, it has to be worth it eventually, right? (I will continue to tell myself this for the next 37 days.)

How does one say 'Holy fuckballs that hurts', in French?

I'm not even in the mood to blog.  But I feel like its long-overdue.  And I am not able to sleep currently, blah blah blah!

Tomorrow is IUD day.  (I keep texting 'UTI' instead, which of course has a few very confused...)  I am torn, my feelings towards the whole idea.  My body and mind, also torn.  My anxiety and my uterus are torn as to which will KILL me first. 

My uterus feeling like shit is not new news.  And this is why the IUD was suggested in the first place.  It has now been a little over a year since my surgery, and after 8 or so months the symptoms came rolling back in.  Considering I'd been taking my pill daily (avoiding a period which is supposed to help avoid the Endo growth) it was instant discouragement that I came back so quickly.  I'd be more then happy to get under that little knife again!  It was well worth it, the months of pure normalcy I felt afterwards.  Alas, that apparently poses risks and so I am now set to try one more thing before we go there again.

Preventing the growth of a (obviously handsome) baby in my tummy before I'm ready for a (obviously handsome) baby is very important to me.  Also, avoiding Endo symptoms is very important to me (and everyone who has anything to do with me).  So after months of deliberation I have caved to the whole IUD thing. 

Why did I need convincing, if it will prevent babies and likely (hopefully) having a period ever again?  The idea of a foreign object permanently residing inside my body just throws me off.  My surgeon tried telling me (you have to picture it in a heavy Indian accent), 'this [his necklace] is a foreign object and these [my earrings] is a foreign object and they don't hurt you!'  I understand, Sir, but your necklace and my earrings are also not INSIDE MY VAGINA. 

Men.  They will never understand. 

I just figure that for the most part, we are made with all the parts we need already inside.  I think that doctors using pig valves to fix a patient's heart makes a little more sense, because that's somewhat natural.  But I giant plastic T with a tail, that is not in any way natural.  And for all I know, it could want to be in there even less then I want it to be in there!  And that is the last thing I need, thank you very much.  My surgeon claims that none of his patients have every rejected an IUD, but that's never stopped me before!

Honestly, I learned after Googling 'laparoscopy' the night before my surgery (and then having a small to moderate sized panic attack), that learning about possible negative side effects is even less necessary then learning long division.  I really do know how highly unlikely it is that this thing is going to rip a hole through my uterus and cause me to bleed out in my sleep.  But it would completely creep me out if I were to suddenly be walking around with fake boobs inside my chest.  And yes, over the last while I have considered what my anxiety may look like the day it realizes there is a human being growing inside of me.  This thing has the potential to be in there for the next 5 years!  And I'm picturing myself being able to feel it if I squish my tummy real hard!  (Barfy face)

As I mull over the anxiety that this teeny procedure and teeny apparatus is causing, my uterus cramps itself into a teeny knot, and I quickly remember the point behind it all.  If I don't fight off this killer IUD-related anxiety, my uterus is going to be the death of me instead.  This last week I have reminded myself multiple times, 'this is the last one!'  A menstrual cycle is what makes the Endometrial cells hurt so badly, and the IUD is supposed to retard my cycle.  No more gross periods equals no more Endometriosis equals no more uncomfy tampons equals no more cramps and nausea equals no more sick days equals no more anxiety!  The savings on feminine hygiene products alone should make me more excited for tomorrow morning. 

Maybe if you saw the size of the box that this IUD came in from the pharmacy, you'd think I was at least a little less crazy!  It's not bad enough that you have to lay on a cold table while some guy works a piece of plastic all the way up into your uterus, but you also have to pick the thing up (the $500 thing) from the pharmacy days before, and try not to have a panic attack while this giant box sits on your desk staring at you all day?!  I'd like to open it up and reassure myself that half of it is just packaging, but then I'm paranoid that there isn't enough packaging inside, and germs and bug would go rushing in once a seal is broken. 

Huhhhhhh. 

I need to just go to bed.  You have to shove drugs up there the night before, to prepare the cervix for insertion.  Just in case you were uncomfortable enough, I mean.  So falling asleep should also keep me from imagining the walls of my girl-organs slowly melting...

(Barfy face)

UPDATE:  Though I'd typed this last night, I was saving it to post today after the fact, planning to end with 'And alllll went well!'   I thought that'd be a funny ending, accepting that I was all stressed and nutso over nothing. 

However. 

I can't even describe the kind of pain that exploded inside of me body.  I'd taken the pre-meds and I took Advil 20 minutes prior as suggested, and I'd taken an Ativan as suggested by myself.  And I have that rare kind of boyfriend who doesn't complain about sitting in a little doctors office with his weirdo girlfriend.  We were laughing, we were watching my 3 year old sister get attacked in a Myrtle Beach tub, taking funny pictures of the faces I’d probably make during the procedure, and I was relaxed.  

For me, the best way to deal with any mounting anxiety is to joke about it and laugh it off, so I was making jokes with the surgeon, laughing off my anxiety, and I was feeling brave.  And then it started.  That scary crunching tube goes in first, fine.  Then he used some stick to clean things out, fine.  But when the instrument went in there, it was an instant and outrageous pain, like I had never felt before.  Pain that made me call for a garbage can, and throwing up is when the panic kicked in hard.  And that was only part 1!  He still had to get in there once more, and the doctor and the lovely nurse and my poor boyfriend were telling me to let him just do it and get over with so it could just be over.  And their logic was logical, but it takes more then talk to convince me to welcome that pain again, when my anxious brain is so sure that another round will legitimately kill me. 

I took more Ativan, which I think I threw up, and then when I made it into the bathroom my boyfriend brought me Gravol and Imodium. 

We spent a good half extra hour in that office, before I was ok to stand up and make my way home to a Popsicle and a good, good nap.  I'm anxious to go into work tomorrow.  There is still an utter ache inside of me, it hurts when I walk and when I breathe.  I'm anxious to find out whether or not this ordeal will be worth it.  I will not settle for this ache, for more then a week.  At least my Endo pain an nausea was on and off, and only really bad around my period.  So far, this pain is constant, and I'll be completely drained if this continues much longer. 

Ps.  I put huge tampons up there on a regular basis.  And an even larger penis has been up in there!  So how the hell does a teeny instrument inserting a teeny piece of plastic, cause SO MUCH PAIN?!! 

I'm going to end this now, before I start ranting about how unfair it is to be a woman.  And then I may never stop.  I mean, c’mon.

Fucking girl parts. 

Oh To Be A Kid Again

Once upon a time, a beautiful teacher took her kids for a walk to hunt for fall leaves.  It was so sunny out, everyone was having so much fun running around in the grass. 

The beautiful teacher was bent over tying someone's shoe, and when she stood she got a real surprise.  Out of the corner of her eye, she saw one of her kids hiding in he middle of a bush. He wasn't just hiding in the middle of the bush, though.  Nope! 

As the beautiful teacher walked closer to the bush, she realized that the boy's pants were down! And his pants weren't just down for fun. (Because we all know pants down can be fun). As the beautiful teacher looked closer, she saw something else...

The little boy hiding in the bushes with his pants down, was going to the bathroom.  And not the pee kind of bathroom. 

After the beautiful teacher picked her eyeballs back off the ground, she pulled his pants up, hoped no one else was paying attention, and called the leaf hunt off. 

After getting inside and wiping and changing and sanitizing, the beautiful teacher realized that she wasn't entirely disgusted.  More so, she was impressed, and slightly envious.  For it wasn't until she was in her 20's and super sick, that the beautiful teacher was comfortable enough pooing in a toilet that wasn't in her own home, never mind in a park full of teen-aged girl soccer players! 

Monster Olympics 2012

We've all met a monster. We've all spent quality time with a beast, at some point in our lives. Panic disorders, addiction, unemployment, loneliness. But there is one monster that even scares all the others off. I picture like, a Raptor in the jungle acting all cocky, scaring all the other dinosaurs, and then the T-Rex comes along, and swallows that Raptor whole. 

It's 5am at a friends cottage, someone's car alarm is going off, there's a massive rain storm, and our roommate is snoring...we watched Mrs. Doubtfire earlier, and there's a part where Robin Williams plays with toy dinosaurs...so that's where that imagery came from. 

Cancer is by far the ugliest, meanest, most selfish monster. The Anxiety monster is a true tormentor, and while I always felt like I was dying, he never actually threatened my life. And no other monster allows you to defeat it, allows you to celebrate with everyone around you, and then barges back in over, and over again, until it's finished the job. 

It's still storming, someone still keeps honking their horn, there's a bunch of drunk, cranky boys downstairs, and it's too hot too sleep, but my brain won't let me think of anything but Julie. 

I'd be very interested to know the ratio of convicted criminals who are diagnosed with cancer vs. the number of innocent, hard working, hard loving human beings chosen to suffer. I don't know if I could actually wish cancer on someone, but when there are football coaches raping their young players, and ingrates shooting a theater full of people, it's obvious, to me, that some people at least deserve it less. 

I once reached a point in my illness, where I decided I'd rather one of my specialists tell me I had cancer, then have to hear that they didn't know what was wrong, or that it was all in my head, one more time. How absurd is that? I was desperate. I have fought a tough battle, I have proven myself brave, but I can't imagine being anything but a crying mess in the fetal position after being told, 'it's cancer'. 

It's almost hard to believe how positive and hopeful Julie remains. Cancer patients, I'm sure, are the bravest. They have to be. They have to be strong for themselves, and they have to be strong for the loved ones who surround them. Which makes it even less fair, really. But Julie has done a beautiful job at just that. 

On Friday we were texting while I was in the car on the way to the cottage. Turns out, she was typing from her chair, at her first chemo appointment. I can't even imagine. And yet we shared 'LOL's over my boyfriend's aggressive driving, and she told me how glad she was to have her mom with her. We discussed making dinner plans for an at-home double date, and I reminded her that I could come over soon to do her nails. If anyone else was to pick up and read that conversation, they'd never guess she was in a hospital, hooked up to tubes feeding her a bitch of a drug, literally fighting for her life. But that's Julie. 

We aren't BEST friends, at first she was just the girlfriend of one of my boyfriend's friends. But you don't need to be best friends to know how kind, and smart, and funny, and beautiful she is. You don't have to be best friends to be kept up at night, so sad and mad, and worried for her, her fiancé, and her family. You don't have to be best friends in order to want to take her pain away, and hug her, and make her smile, and just fucking murder the shit out of the Cancer Monster. 

You know, I'd go back to being sick and sweaty and panicking on my bathroom floor, if it meant Julie wouldn't have cancer anymore. If all the beautiful finances, and innocent children, and needed moms and dads could avoid cancer, I'd gladly go back and live in that part of my life again. Because compared to cancer, everything else seems so pathetic. All of a sudden, complaining about how hot it is, being pissed off about the murderous period I endured last week, whining about the early hours I'll be working come September, is all very pathetic. 

I bet though, Julie is the sort of person who would tell you not to feel that way. She would probably assure you that a monster is a monster, and you can't compare diseases. I feel like I'd be the one who would hear a complete stranger mentioning his headache on the bus, and scream, 'you have a headache? I have fucking cancer, you pussy '. 

She should be here, you know? Enjoying the long weekend playing Sorry with us outnumbered girls, while all the boys are being complete idiots down on the beach. That's how it should be, but we all know that life is an unfair asshole. 

It's after 6 now, and I just hope she's at least having a good sleep. That's the least that Life could do. 

* * * * *

I typed that on August 5th. I wasn't ready to post it at the time, I'm not sure why. Probably had a little to do with denial, and only wanting to send positive feelings out into the universe.

Julie passed away thismorning. It was hard to leave on vacation, knowing it was a possibility, even though we'd visited with her before we left. My sister recently lost someone, and she was in Paris with her boyfriend when she got the news. I now understand now how hard it is, to be away from it all, no matter how hard 'it all' may be.

I went downstairs, sat in Prince Charming's lap, and we cried. We cried for Julie, and her gallant fiancé, and the friends and family who held her hand every step of the way.

Yesterday was, I think, the most magical day of my life thus far. And it was really all thanks to Julie. At this age, we are getting ready to lose grandparents, and we start preparing ourselves for the possible loss of our parents, but we'd never stop to consider losing a friend. We'd never stop to consider, at this age, that today could be our last day to do magical things. We don't stop to consider those things, until now. I'm still unsure if it sounds bad, or morbid, or selfish to say, but what Julie went through is an eye opener, and it's been an inspiration to love and live harder then I have been.

Yesterday we swam with stingrays! I'd fallen in love with them at the aquarium here in Myrtle Beach, sitting at the corner of the tank watching this giant, mystical creatures flying so peacefully through the water. When we walked up above the tank, I nearly peed my pants when we saw a place where you could lean over and pet the rays as the glided through the shallow makeshift beach! Then I saw the poster, SWIM with the stingrays.

I contemplated it for a few days. Since being sick I've only worked 2 regular months, and since schools out I haven't had a regular pay check all summer, so even $75 (each) seemed like an intimidating number. When I was sitting at the corner of that tank though, there was a moment so full of wishing that Julie was there to see it too. I eventually realized that I can't save the big things for tomorrows.

Stingrays are velvety, and very heavy, and they like to suck on your toes! I even kissed a pregnant one, which must be some kind of good luck! The whole time we were in that chilly water, giggling and squirming, I kept thanking Julie for helping me get in there.

Last night was so warm, and the storm clouds had cleared enough for the stars to finally peek through, and there was a full moon to top it all off. When you add all that together, it equals the perfect reason to go skinny dipping!

I think that that's what Heaven must feel like. A warm empty beach only lit by the moon, a beautiful breeze, a vast ocean, just naked and completely free. Once all the pain and the sadness and the sacredness is over, that must be what it feels like.

I don't normally enjoy ocean swims. The salt burns my skin, and I can't make my brain quit thinking about sharks! But I realized that being in an ocean, sans suits, is not an opportunity that arrives every day. And I have never in my life felt so calm, and at peace, and so thankful.

If you've read my blog before, you know I'm not God's biggest fan. I've always believed in Heaven though. And sometimes, like we all do too, Heaven gets really greedy. Julie was a beautiful force, an energy that will vibrate through our hearts forever. I know, and I think everyone who knew her knows, she's on a beach somewhere. And maybe even naked ;)

Hello Old Friend

Deep breaths. 

It's Friday night.  It's 3:48am, technically Saterday, and I'm fighting the urge to get off the toilet and lay on the bathroom floor instead. Is this what an addiction feels like? Craving something so specific, thinking you'll be safer there? Earwigs crawl on that floor! I have my pillow and a cold cloth, trying to shake off the shakes and deeply contemplating. Am I feeling nauseous and thus panicking because I drank an energy drink tonight...or am I nauseous and thus panicking because I warned myself prior to drinking it that drinking it could potentially cause a panic attack? Self-fulfilling prophecy, or a general health warning? Do people who are thought to be mentally stable have panic attacks as a result of consuming energy drinks, or is an anxiety disorder a prerequisite? Is this why some people, some people who have worked so hard and overcome so much, and conquered so much time, fall off the wagon? Even the ugliest monsters can be seductive. This feeling is so familiar. I know that it's bad and that I need to stop it, that I am capable of stopping it, but the familiarity is nearly comforting. Beckoning me back to the dark side. It's been almost 8 months since I felt this way, felt it crawling under my skin up my back and over my arms, but it could have been yesterday, it feels so familiar. When my tummy started that dull ache, I knew the little shivers would come next. Then Id start talking too fast, trying to ignore it and distract anyone around me. Then the creepy crawly feeling. The numbness in my arms. The sleepy spinning in the front of my head. And lastly, the slow burning heat waves under my skin when I finally accept that this is going to be a panic attack. Soon my fingers and toes will be freezing and tingly, because during a panic attack your blood supply rushes inwards to your vital organs. Did you know that? I have never figured out why I always want to lay on the bathroom floor, or at least some floor, when I feel like this. Maybe I've never really thought about it. It's proven that walking around and being proactive will help stunt an attack from hitting its peak, and yet curling up on the floor FEELS safer! After getting sick, my mom or dad or whoever had to endure that particular episode with me, would always urge me to at least get into bed, but moving seems terrifying. Why would anyone prefer a hard, cold, dirty (normal bathroom-dirty, not like gas station bathroom-dirty) floor over a cozy bed? I took a Gravol for the tummy ache, and then just like I remember, it wasn't even 10 minutes later before I gave up on it working, and went for the Ativan. Ohhhhh, Ativan. I haven't had to refill that prescription since surgery! Because I haven't had a panic attack since surgery! And what did I do tonight that I haven't done since surgery, that could be the culprit? I drank a caffeinated energy drink. And I ate macaroni salad that had pineapple in it. I was planning on sipping champagne at my Grama's Birthday party tomorrow...maybe this is a cosmic warning sign. I don't NEED to drink. I want to do it, to prove that I can do it now without panicking, that I have that firm a grasp on my anxiety, and that my tummy is better and won't be as sensitive to alcohol...but I can still dance just as well sober. I can still tell off creepy old men who frequent downtown Guelph on a Friday night to back the fuck off. And if I can dance and stand up for my personal space while sober, do I need to bother testing my theory? Would discovering that I can get tipsy without having a panic attack, be worth the potential level 10 panic attack? And why do earwigs continue to attempt to invade my home when none of their friends seem to be making it back alive? Is whatever they're here for really worth the risk of being drowned in my toilet? I remember always wondering many things while panicking, taking advantage of my rushing brain. And I remember how pointless new paragraphs always seem while panicking. Most importantly, I remember how good it feels to crawl into bed next to a warm body an hour after the initial sign of an attack, and how well a panic-ravaged body sleeps after running another inner marathon.

Tick Tock

Sitting at my desk, listening to Adele, feeling sentimental.  

Thinking of my baby sister sitting at her little desk at midnight (which would be 6 hours ago), listening to sappy songs, and blogging too.  Miles away.  And lifetimes away.  

Where was I the summer of 22 years old?  Well, I was sick.  There's always that!  It was my first summer with a brand new boyfriend, which isn't Italy, but an adventure in itself.  lol.  

Before going out last night to laugh and dance and sweat far too hard, an old/new-again friend and I reminisced.  I hated many aspects of high school, but I think that reminiscing about it will likely remain a favorite use of time.  We realized that our little group of oldest friends, have changed the most out of everyone we knew in high school.  For the better, of course!  You look at pictures from 8 years ago, and while we all loved and accepted each other, lol,  you'd never have thought we'd grow into such knockouts.  Really though.  If you saw what we looked like back then, you'd agree that it's perfectly ok to brag about our current reflections.  

Sitting with this particular friend moved to further prove the truth behind the statement, 'Timing is Everything."

She and I were good friends.  Best friends.  Like jump on the bed to Britney Spears, makeovers, slutty games of Truth or Dare, stay up all night giggling over a boy kind of best friends.  It helped that we lived so close, and could run back and forth between houses in the middle of the night.  It started in elementary school, when we were in a very decent pop band together (for realz), and ended soon after graduating high school.  

When I graduated, I wanted out.  I started dating a new guy from another city, and was so thankful for the new circle of friends that he came with.  All of us high school girlfriend and best friends shared more then a million happy, hilarious memories.  We ALWAYS had fun together.  The very most fun.  We hid in closets and ate donuts to have fun..and eventually progressed to getting wasted in stranger's houses to have fun.  It nearly blows my mind how much fun we all had.  But we were never very honest.  And for a long while after moving on, I thought that that meant we were never REAL friends.

We all had problems.  We had problems with our parents, divorcing and overbearing parents, which we could have actually bonded over had we ever admitted it to each other.  We had personal issues, issues with grades, boyfriends etc. and we never helped each other through those, because we never knew how bad we were all suffering.  No one knew how serious my depression was back then.  Was I the only one who saw a therapist in high school?  I never told any of them when I was sexually assaulted, either.  I literally went to school the next day, and never even thought to mention it.  We didn't do that, then.  

So she and I stopped talking, not too long after our 12+ year in school.  And I figured, 'whatever,' everyone moves on, and drifts, and that's life.  Then all this time later, after years of being too sick for a real job, I ended up working every day at the same school she's teaching at!  And there it begins!  We find ourselves in a similar position in our lives, starting careers, in serious and lovely romantic relationships.  We've only hung out a few times since re-introducing ourselves, and yet I know more about who she really is, then I did in the 10 years we were best friends.  It's a little amazing.

I found myself in a spot, where I needed a friend, like the kind of friend she is, right now.  And there she was.  Maybe in the great scheme of life, all I needed in high school was a friend to get drunk and laugh with, and now I need another adult friend to further better the adult life I'm finally falling into.  It works out, timing.

I knew my boyfriend in high school.  Not well, considering he was one of the cool kids, and I certainly was not!  But we shared a class, every day for a semester.  In fact, we shared a school bus seat, on the way home from a class field trip to the Toronto Zoo!  And just as I never imagined being as smokin hot as I am now compared to my high school self, lol, I never thought to think that one day I could be in love with, and living with this 'hot' guy that I used to doodle about in Media class.  

I had only one high school boyfriend who was indeed crucial to that chapter of my life.  He was what I needed at that point.  Then I met this new guy, older and more mature, who had nothing to do with high school, thank god.  This new, more mature guy dumped me after a few years.  That weekend my girlfriends (form my new circle of friends) took me out and at the end of the night, I ran right into this guy I recognized from Media class.  I was smitten.  But obviously I agreed to give my ex another chance, lol.  A few months later, this new, more mature guy dumped me again (this time via text, most mature!), and again my girlfriends and I went downtown.  And again, I ran into this boy from Media class.  Something THAT ironic, can only be Destiny.  

He is the greatest proof that timing is everything.  

I was devastated, as any girl is, when my ex broke up with me, not knowing that Life was setting me up for exactly what I needed.  So much so, it scares me.  It's eerie, the timing of things.  

I started to get very sick, just as we began dating.  Which seems like AWFUL timing.  But the sicker I became, the more obvious it became that everything had happened for a reason.  I know without a doubt, that I never would have survived these last few years of my life, if my ex was the one 'by my side' instead of Prince Charming.  The last time I was EVER really drunk, my ex left me in his basement bathroom to puke and pass out alone, while he watched hockey highlights...?!  Can you imagine how well that dynamic would have worked once I started throwing up, and shitting, and shaking on bathroom floors daily?  I would likely be literally dead right now.  

Life saw what was headed my way, and made it possible for me to endure it with the most perfect person.  

I have one other new friend worth mentioning in this context.  An actual new friend, who I never knew before.  We met through a mutual friend, whom neither of us are really friends with anymore.  And I've been asked more then once, why I've become such good friends with someone so much younger then me.  She's JUST 20, though she makes me look like the 20 year old.  And while I've always remained sure that age is just a number, Life realized that I NEEDED a 20 year old in my life right now!  I am healthy enough to go out and party, and have fun, and stay out late, multiple nights in a row, just as all my good friends are getting married and having babies.  Bad timing.  I was sick and cancelling plans, while they were all in the midst of their drinking and going out stage.  I really am, now, years behind them, wanting to go out and dance and dress up, while their paying mortgages and making pretty little families.  And that's where my 20 year old friend fits in!  I get to be silly, and care-free, and slightly irresponsible with her.  She is young, but she's perfect for me.

Just as Prince Charming is perfect for me, just as my old/new friend is perfect for me again.  'Timing is Everything', it does in fact work out when it needs to.

Baby Steps Still Go Big Places

'If someone told me a year ago that I'd be spending all day out of town by myself, eating tons, AND going out to dance all night without any tears or drugs..I'd have told them they were dreaming.'

Recovery is never about leaps and bounds and over-night glories. Whether its an addiction, a disease, a mental illness, losing a job or a friend, or a shitty breakup, it takes a heck of a lot of time to move on. And it takes even longer to move upwards.

Come this Friday, I will have worked regularly, Monday - Friday, for a month! And I am well aware that that doesn't sound so impressive (especially considering the fact that I don't think my dads called in sick once over the last 10 years), but it's been well over 2 years since I've worked on a daily basis. Two years ago I was too sick to work at all. And while this job is only part-time, it's been a pretty brilliant start.

I learned that you can't rush into anything. You can't push your luck. It would never be recommended that a recovering alcoholic get a job at a distillery after just one AA meeting. Jumping into a huge commitment, with the risk of burning myself out again, would be taking these good-feeling days for granted. Great-feeling days.

It's so easy to compare ourselves to others. Preteens are stuck feeling too short, and too fat, and too flat compared to celebrities their age. There are days when I feel too unaccomplished compared to my baby sister who's taking on Italy all by herself for the summer (see http://mintcovered.blogspot.ca/), or my friends who are all getting married and having babies. But those are counter-productive thoughts. They didn't start where I've had to start over. It doesn't take long to remember what it felt like to spend all my time on the cold bathroom floor, just praying for a break. From there, I've come further then anyone has. I've beaten odds, and won more battles then anyone has. 

My boyfriend and I have moved in together, too! We didn't put a down payment on our dream home..or any home, lol. We have moved into the basement apartment in my dad's house. This Princess isn't ready to leave the Kingdom just yet. And that's ok! It's good practice, paying rent together, doing each others laundry, sharing space. It doesn't matter how big a step is (I have teeny feet anyways), so long as you're stepping in the right direction. It's not our dream house, but I get to spend every sleep with Prince Charming, which is pretty dreamy.

And come September, I will be working full-time, a regular, real job. Imagine that! I'm counting down the number of baby steps it'll take for me to reach the dreams I had before I ever got sick. Dreams I thought were pointless after all that bathroom floor time. Dreaming dreams again? That's even bigger then a baby step.

Happy Half Birthday

...to my Endo-free abdomen!

Six months! That's half of an entire year! How insane is that? I mean really.

My little Bri Bear asked me tonight, it I could do what my sister is doing. She's just landed in Italy for a summer of English tutoring and growing as a woman, and she went all by herself! I answered, 'Heck no! But I'm like 10% closer to yes, then I was 6 months ago?' And I am. I am closer to EVERYTHING, then I was 6 months ago.

I am closer to a career, I am closer to my friends and family, I'm closer to starting a whole new life with the boy that I love! In the last 6 months I've stared a new (wonderful) job, I have left my house to hang out and go out and party and be productive more then I have over the last 5 years! And my boyfriend and I have moved in together!

(We've actually just moved into my dad's basement apartment. Lol which doesn't sound too impressive and grown up, I understand. But there was a time when moving 2 feet from my toilet seemed impossible, and now I've moved 2 whole flights of stairs away!)

It's not flying to, and living in a foreign language-speaking foreign country alone with none of the comforts I've depended on for the last few years...but this 6 month anniversary is still something to celebrate. Especially considering the fact that the Anxiety Monster is nowhere near this party!

I'm not naive enough to really let my guard down, but I still have yet to suffer a full-blown attack since surgery. I still have yet to ask for an Ativan refill! Suck on THAT, Mr. Monster.

I shal be celebrating with a half-price Starbucks Frapaccino, without the nagging worry over whether or not all that caffeine and sugar will send me screaming to the bathroom :)

#KONY2012

So many times, unfortunately, I have found myself disgusted by our human race. There is so much bad in this world, in little ways and in war-size ways. Tonight however, for 30 minutes, I got to feel proud. Proud to be of the same kind of being as this man, and these people.

Joseph Kony is the man who tops The World's 10 Most Wanted list. He heads the LRA, and Ugandan guerrilla army that captures children and forces them to kill their own families, captures young girls and uses them as rewards for his commanders, all while using religious beliefs as an excuse. In 2006 the US announced arrest warrants had been issued for Kony. There are 33 charges, 12 counts are crimes against humanity, which include murder, enslavement, sexual enslavement and rape. There are another 21 counts of war crimes which include murder, cruel treatment of civilians, intentionally directing an attack against a civilian population, pillaging, inducing rape, and forced enlisting of children into the rebel ranks.

In 2003, filmmakers traveled to document the genocide in Darfur and were touched by one child in particular, who was living in fear of Kony's army. This one child's story inspired these few people, and 9 years later hundreds of thousands of people have been touched. But that's not enough.

In 2011, after massive efforts by Invisible Children Inc and their supporters, President Obama deployed 100 soldiers to help Ugandan soldiers remove Joseph Kony and his army from the battle field. It's always been hard for me to follow things of a political nature, but what I understand is, the US government, all governments, need convincing that Kony is an issue the world cares enough about to continue their support and efforts in capturing him.

Please take the time to watch and share this video. It's breathtaking. These people want to change the world, and it is entirely possible to help the succeed.

http://s3.amazonaws.com/kony2012/kony_all.html

Princess Georgia wants to take her fight to the next level.

#yayme and #thankyou

Do you know what today is?

Okay, I'll tell you.

Today is March 4th! And that means that it's been exactly 4 months since my surgery.

That in itself isn't a very big deal, I know that. However, today also marks the 4 months during which I haven't had a panic attack, or been too sick to my stomach to leave my bed. And that, is kind of a ginormous deal.

Ps. My ex used to lecture me every time I'd say 'ginormous', because it's not a real word, but two different words mashed together...and YET, spell check recognizes it! Now I feel even more triumphant.

I haven't had to refill my Ativan prescription since before surgery, I haven't had to call in sick or cancel plans because I was in too much pain, and I haven't had to beg the question, 'why me?' (Okay, that's a lie, I still wonder that once a month for 5-7 days.) It's NEARLY hard to believe that I used me be impressed if I could go 4 hours without feeling like I was dying. 4 months! And soon it will be 4 years!

Yay me! And thank you, to the doctor who finally decided to take my word for it, and eventually fix me. And thank you to my family who keeps me strong, friends who keep me pleasently distracted, and a boyfriend who keeps me so happy!

Thanks to these last 4 months, after the past 5 years, it may finally be safe to say, Princess Georgia might win this one.

Nostalgic

Four years ago, Ellen threw me a party for my Birthday.

Everyone ended up being ridiculously upset with me, because I left my own party soon after we all got downtown. I wasn't feeling well. I remember trying to force-feed myself a granola bar as I sat in Natalie's car. At that point, I was still being ragged on for having an eating disorder, because I'd lost so much weight over the last two years. I was weak, and jittery, and dizzy, and over heating, and cold-sweating, and having trouble breathing, and my stomach was so sick, so I considered that perhaps I hadn't eaten enough that day. (I was also already living a very sober lifestyle, so it wasn't that)

Natalie drove me home, and after what seemed like hours of crying and shaking on my bedroom floor, (my dad was out of town) she called 911. It was my very first ambulance ride! My mom and my sister met me at the hospital, and my heart rate and blood pressure was tested over and over because one kept rising while the other kept falling. And then after the too-many hours that thy always make you wait in Emerge, a doctor said 'panic attack' to me for the first time.

But that was it! Relax, and stop with the energy drinks, was all I got for my troubles.

It's probably a good thing that I was too out of it to remember that doctor's face, or else I'd likely stoop to punching him in the teeth if I ever saw him again. I mean, it really is astounding, how many doctors and professionals I saw over the years, before someone finally made an effort to actually FIX me, instead of just brushing me off. But that's besides the point of what I'm getting at...

Ellen is throwing me a Birthday party tonight. And I am beyond ready to divulge in every single minute of it, be the very last one to leave this time!

Four years later, and look at me now. After too many more attacks to count, too many more plans ruined, my health is getting back on track, and I have people in my life who never gave up. Happy Birthday to me!