Mrs. Princess (finally, I know)

In the rush of things, I never got around to posting this chunk of writing that I did, only 2 days before our September 14th wedding.  And then of course I was exhausted from all the work that accompanies a DIY wedding, I got right back into the new school year with a new group of kids, and then I got sick and lazy!  But now that I get two whole weeks of Christmas break to enjoy, I have no more excuses.  So here is a piece I wrote, about writing my wedding vows, along with the actual words I read that completely perfect (I still can't believe how perfectly it all turned out) late afternoon, three and a half months ago.. 

September 12th, 2013 - I've written novels, and children's books, and blogs, and thousands of poems, and I've written in a journal regularly since Grade 3. Despite all of that practice, writing my wedding vows has proven ridiculously difficult. 

I've actually been writing my wedding vows since I was like, 16 years old. There are a bunch of journal pages over the last 10 years covered in romantic words inspired by a movie I'd just watched, or a poem I'd written. I've dog-eared pages to remind myself to add certain things into my vows one day. In the last 5 years I have written plenty of beautiful poems and sappy journal entries about my nearly-husband, but when I sat down to actually compose vows specifically to saw out loud in front of all our family and friends, to him specifically, I turned into such a dummy! 

I used to attend weddings and be so shocked that no one was reciting vows they'd written themselves, because it seems like the one and only time you can profess your personal feelings and let everyone know exactly how you feel...but it makes sense now. There is already so much pressure (that I've mostly placed on myself) for a perfect wedding, but to have to add a bunch of perfect words on top of that, to be spoken during the most important few minutes of our lives together, makes for a crushing amount of pressure! 

My body has been overwhelmed with emotions since the day we met, and to squeeze all of that into only a minute seems so impossible. but what parts do I leave out? Do guests want to laugh during the ceremony, or do I need to cut deep and aspire to make everyone weep? Are you supposed to actually say the word 'vow'? No wonder celebrities always say their more nervous then excited about being nominated for an Oscar! Winners are given like 70 seconds to thank everyone who's ever been nice to them, and throw in something inspiring and moving and uplifting, in front of the entire world! Right now, 85 guests FEEL like the entire world. 

It's just tough! Especially refraining from rambling, that's the hardest part for me! My first draft was like an entire page long. We'd end up starting dinner at 8pm if I was allowed to say everything that I want to say to him. When you love someone enough to marry them, it could take DAYS to describe why you love them that much, to mention every wonderful, selfless thing they've ever done, every inside joke. 

And because of all the wedding stress, the last minute changes we never prepared to be ready for, the lack of sleep, and lack of hours in the day, my brain has shut down! Completely! Not only can I not string a few beautiful, nostalgic words together..I can't string a few words together period! 

* * * * *

"Dear Nolan 

Besides I love you, all I really want to say to you is, thank you. 

Thank you for asking for my number the first time we ran into each other downtown, years after sharing a high school media class. And thank you for not holding it against me when I apparently required Destiny to tell me more then once that you were the one. 

Thank you for never giving up, and running away as fast as you could, no matter how sick, and anxious, and exhausting I got, over and over again. 

Thank you for finally proposing! Lol

And thank you for loving me enough to stand up here,only 4 months later, promising to love me, forever.

I vow to love you forever, and to spend that forever proving that it was all worth it."

Crown Missing

Right now, all I want in the whole wide world is my engagement ring back. That's it! I don't want a car, or a pony, or a million dollars (ok, I for sure want a million dollars), I just want my ring. 

Peoples took it 7 weeks ago, to make a mold etc. because it requires a custom made wedding band (I have since suggested to every person in a relationship that I know lol, to never buy an engagement ring that won't fit with a normal band, or doesn't come with a band)....and I've started calling them once or twice a week, after the initial 3 weeks. 

First they said they'd make the mold, give us the estimate for the cost, then size and send my engagement ring back. Then they said they weren't making the mold even, until we agreed on the estimate price, because just the stupid mold costs $400. So we said yes to what I think is an outrageous price for a like, a gram of white good and a few minuscule diamonds (it's actually more then twice the cost of my engagement ring!), and we were told my engagement ring would be back in about a week, once the mold was made, and the wedding band would take another 3 weeks. Fine. That was a month ago. 

It turns out, the jewelers needed to keep the engagement ring so that while they are making the wedding ring, they can match all the lines, and all the stones up perfectly. (Isn't that what the $400 mold was for?!) I can appreciate perfection, in fact I expect perfection for that much money. And I also understand that there are hundreds of brides whose rings they are currently crafting, and I accept that we weren't able to give them a ton of notice or time. But 7 weeks without the prettiest thing I've ever seen, is seriously starting to weigh on me!

I am a patient person. I actually consider my patience to be at par with a superpower. I can hold a child for hours while it screams in my face, and it doesn't phase me whatsoever. I don't honk at or flip off drivers who forget that you can turn right on a red. I'm fine sitting in a change room naked for 20 minutes because the sales lady forgot that she was finding me another size. Heck, I waited 2 years after picking out an engagement ring before actually being proposed to! But when I'm told over and over again, 'Oh! It'll just be 3 weeks! It'll just be one more week! Oh, we'll have it next week!' I start to want my antidepressants back, and start ponder antipsychotics, too. 

Most people think I'm being silly. 'Its just a ring, and everyone KNOWS you're engaged,' is a common response. But in all fairness, those people weren't (or never have been) engaged females. Because I feel like its a right of passage! To me, the engagement is the exciting part, the time to simply show off before the actual wedding stress kicks in. Because of everything that's going on, I only get to be engaged for (less then) 4 months, and Peoples has basically ruined half of it. As vein as it sounds, I feel a little less special every time I leave the house, knowing the cashier at the grocery store, or the bank teller, or the kids at work won't get to notice the sparkly thing on my finger. 

I still feel engaged, of course, in the sense that I'm in the midst of planning a wedding, but without my engagement ring, I feel like I'm missing out on the special, pretty, 'IM ENGAGED!!' feelings. I felt super dumb during my Bachelorette party, because of course every stranger who noticed the penis-adorned veil on my head responded with, 'YAY! Let me see the ring!!' After this weekend I will also have attended both of my bridal showers without my engagement ring. And that's ridiculous!

I just got off the phone with our sales lady at Peoples and she seemed far too excited to tell me, 'I think I can get it back for you on the 23rd!' 'Oh, that's awesome! Unless of course you remember that last week you said if have it this week.'

Perhaps it's the expectations that I've been given, that is the kryptonite to my patience. My fiancé took me ring shopping WAY before he was actually planning on proposing, and literally every day after that I was expecting him to drop to one knee. And when you assure me that it'll only be 3 weeks before I get my engagement ring back, I expect my engagement ring back in 3 weeks. And every day after that I want to hit someone a little harder. 

I simply feel incomplete, like a Princess without her crown.  

And I also feel fucking ticked off. 

How Many Times Have I Tweeted, 'Deep Breaths'?

It recently came to my attention that its hard for anyone who has never come off of prescription medication, to understand what it's like to come off of prescription medication. So! In hopes of distracting myself from the current overwhelming urge to escape, and to cry, I thought I'd attempt to explain it. 

Firstly, it's hard for ME to understand what's going on. As things get uncomfortable, I'm constantly reminding myself that on top of the fact that it just underwent surgery two months ago, my body is going through so many changes. Therefore I don't hold it against anyone at all, when they don't understand, or even choose to judge the situation that I'm currently in. 

Many people assume, when you mention that you're working your way off medication, that its like detoxing. It's not. Not for me anyways. Those classy enough to catch shows such as Dr Drew's Celebrity Rehab, know that coming off of alcohol or recreational drugs usually involves shakes, and sweats, and puking, and sometimes seizures. For me, the reactions or side effects are basically invisible. 

I am gradually coming off of Celexa, a drug that my brain has been thriving on for 10 years. Almost exactly 10 years, actually. I first started on it as a way to deal with my depression. A few years ago after experimenting with a few different brands, we ended up increasing my dose of Celexa to deal with my acute panic disorder, on top of the depression. I've been on it so long that I couldn't tell you what it actually does for me, I don't remember what it felt like when it sunk in for the first time and started making me feel better. Coming off of the drug now, I realize that I have taken it and its huge effect on my life, for granted. 

The best way to explain things may be to say that I feel like a teenager going through puberty for the first time. So many 'new' physical and mental feelings all at once. It's overwhelming, and it's frustrating or even a little nerve racking, because I don't know my body is doing or feelings certain things at certain time. The medication put me in control of my mind and my body, but now I'm relinquishing it.

It doesn't take much to raise the temperature of my blood, or to make my skin crawl. The ridiculous spacing of this current Word Doc alone is making me want to punch things. Someone who's been in this same situation might notice my newly acquired ticks (for lack of a better word), though I don't even notice them sometimes. I find my hands in fists, or my fingers and toes wriggling around when it gets bad. My skin has gotten so sensitive sometimes that even my FIANCÉ'S (tee hee) hand on my back, makes me want to throw up. I also worry that my dentist is going to notice how much I've been grinding my teeth lately.

All of that is my anxiety creeping back in. 

Oh! I will take a minute to acknowledge now, the powers of therapies which do not involve drugs. Talk therapy, art therapy, CBT, etc are all things that while at the time may not have seemed super useful, are proving to have been benefitting me this whole time. The fact that I'm not back on the bathroom floor right now, even though I'm nauseous as heck, is testament to all of the hard work I've done over the last few years, on top of taking the right meds. While I am very comfortable saying that I still couldn't have survived the last few years without drug therapy, I am very thankful that I was given the opportunity to partake in so many other kinds of therapy, because that is what I am holding onto now. 

When we first started discussing babies, which involved discussing coming off my medication, I was very worried about the depression. My fiancé has seen me in the midst of the most horrific anxiety, but he didn't know me when I was depressed. Then again, when I was depressed, lol no one noticed anyways! Depression was always very easy for me to hide. I'm a born actress (I think, anyways lol), and high school was prime time to 'fake it til you make it', so no one ever worried about me, until I asked them too. 

I feel extremely nervous to admit that I have felt depressed, since starting to come off of my medication. It's never a serious depression, and usually it'll only last an hour! It's just a BLAH feeling, and I don't want to talk to anyone, or do anything, so I'll go back to bed, and wake up feeling better. I call it the 'high school' feeling. If I'm driving when it's dark out, and there's some slow song on...I get very sentimental...and my brain starts thinking about our old family home, and when we were all young and careless and silly, and family vacations, and smoking at parties even though I thought smoking was gross...and my body starts to feel like I remember it feeling in high school. And that's when I feel a little nervous. And that's when I search for a station playing that stupid Miley song, and I text something inappropriate to BriBear, and make plans to do something with another person. Because I don't know if I'll ever be comfortable enough to reminisce that way, without medication. 

However! I can't be sure (and neither can my doctors, really) what symptoms and side effects are from coming off the Celexa, and what are from coming off my birth control! Because I'm doing that, too! Because who doesn't want to deprive their body of ALL the extra chemicals and hormones that it’s been living off of for 10 years, all at once? 

What was I thinking!?

Well, lol. I guess I was thinking that I'd like for the baby who will be growing in my tummy any time now, to eventually come out of my tummy with only 1 head, and 10 fingers and toes. 

And that's what I have to keep reminding myself. And that's what I have to keep reminding the people around me who also have to deal with all my new feelings etc. I'm not doing this just for fun! It's the least amount of fun I've ever had! I'm doing it because we want a baby, and because we HAVE to have that baby soon. And we want that baby to be happy and healthy. Mine is likely the least desirable uterus to have to live in. So I figure, if the baby can survive in there, then I can survive without drugs. Seems fair, right?

I try to be funny, and sarcastic about it, and I know I do a good job at hiding it. But it is hard. It's actually really hard sometimes, and that's why I'm not really working this summer. The timing is perfect really, since my school job gives me the summer off. Planning a wedding is enough to make any 'normal' person lose it at least a little, especially planning a wedding in less then 4 months! When I then realized I needed to plan a wedding, and at the same time come off of all my medication, not getting a summer job seemed smart. It seemed like the safest thing, for me. This way I can enjoy the process of planning our special day, and I can get through it without hurting people, or myself. And while wedding planning doesn't make for the IDEAL time to come off the meds...there won't ever be an actual perfect time to do it. Just like there's really no perfect time to have a baby! So why not!

I am currently on 1/4 of my original Celexa dose (and zero birth control), and I'm still alive. I get outrageous headaches (which I was never prone to before), my stomach may flip from violently nauseous to painfully hungry every 15 minutes (needless to say, eating has drastically dropped on my list of favorite things to do), and I may cry watching animal rescue videos on you tube, and Say Yes To The Dress...but I'm still alive, and that's all that matters! I'm not in a ball on the bathroom floor, I'm not even desperate for Ativan. I’m not telling random strangers to fuck off, or calling off the wedding. A year ago even, I never would have put money on my ability to function, let alone be a productive and loving fiancé without any medication. It's good news! It's completely exhausting some days, but it's impressive. I'm impressed. I'm impressed, AND getting married in like 5 weeks! Imagine!

It's Just So Sparkly

Not to get cocky and competitive, but, this ring is even prettier then Cinderella's slipper. 

It has been a mental (I'm allowed to use that word) few weeks. Just so, so nuts! Good nuts! As good as nuts can be!! 

I have finally had my post-op follow up appointment with my Gyno/surgeon, and I feel relieved enough to finally type about it all. 

Things are seeming very certain and according to plan. It's of course a revised version of the plan I'd always assumed we had, but feeling 'certain' is definitely a new, blessed feeling. 

(I don't know why I used the word 'blessed' lol)

A month ago I went into day surgery, and went under for a laporoscopy, and a DNC. My uterus is all tidy now, a bleeding cyst was evacuated, and a lot of Endometriosis was removed (mainly from my pelvic wall), which is the best news ever. 

Or so I thought!

When I came-to in my hospital bed, the first thing I got to see was a huge goofy smile on my boyfriend's face. Despite the IV narcotics lol, I'd somehow got hold of my phone as soon as I got out of surgery, and text him to come pick me up. Of course when he got back to the hospital and told the nurse at the desk that he was there to get me, she let him know that I was nowhere near allowed to leave yet. So for an hour or so, I drifted in and out of la-la land, always opening my eyes to him. And all I could think about (besides how AWESOME drugs feel) was how lucky I was to be able to leave the hospital that afternoon as a totally healthy and happy person again! A person I hadn't been in a good 6 months. 

I couldn't wait to get home and start a new, healthy chapter in our lives...drink too much Booster Juice and take painkillers, and stay in bed for a week, and get excited about the fact that we were going to start trying to make a baby soon. But I had no idea how excited I was about to really be. 

Turns out, IV narcotics + the removal of my IUD hormones = supreme overemotionalism. We did in fact start discussing the impending conception of our maybe-baby before bed, and super emotional (super high) me questioned how he could say he was ready to have a baby so soon, if he wasn't ready to be engaged to me yet. 

A minute, and a million tears later, the honest-to-god sparkliest diamond ring was on my finger. Just like that! No hoopla, just the two of us, in bed, emotional and in love, and ready to spend the rest of our lives together. I of course always thought I wanted a grand gesture sort of proposal (and with all the time he'd taken to finally propose, I had assumed a large plan). Turns out, he was just waiting for the right moment, and in turn, the moment was perfect. 

I also had thought that I wanted to just have a baby, and then worry about getting married etc. We had known for a while that a baby had to happen sooner then later, and a baby seemed like enough to worry about for a while. But then my friend, my Matron Of Honor, came over with bridal books, and magazines, and our ever-changing plans changed again!

I think it took me flipping through maybe 4 pages of Bride magazine, to get overwhelmingly excited to plan a wedding. My FIANCÉ and I talked that night, and we realized that once we have a baby, planning, and paying for a wedding will get pushed so far down the priority list, that if we want to enjoy entire wedding experience, we needed to do it before we got pregnant. I already knew that I couldn't give the Endometriosis more then 6 months to start returning before getting pregnant, so that meant getting pregnant before December...so that meant needing to get married before December. I checked my calendar and the 14th of September (because it has to be a 14th, and September shouldn't be too hot, or too cold!) just happened to fall on a Saturday! And that was that! Our brand new engagement was given 4 months!

Turns out the timing of the LONG-awaited proposal was perfect, because being forced to recover in bed made for a lot of wedding planning time. As will school (work) being out for the summer. I've gotten our mailing list together, invites designed, rentals figured out, favors figured out, and every party or shower scheduled! And I bought a wedding dress last week!! 

It'll be a lot. It'll be a busy summer. Not to mention that I'll be working through it all while also working my way off of my antidepressant/anti-anxiety medication, in order to prep my body for a healthy baby to grow! Pfffft, no biggie! We've already firmly decided to leave the Anxiety Monster off of our guest list, so I'm not worried about a thing!

Do princesses take their partner's last name after the wedding? 

The next 3 months are going to be so exciting, and happy, and stressful, and full of sarcastic hilarity, and hopefully I'll allow myself to find some time to type about it all. It deserves to be typed about. 

And this ring really does deserve to be stated at, as much as I stare at it. 

Wish You Were Here

This was supposed to be 'my first healthy trip to NYC!' but life doesn't really like you making plans that big. Or naming your plans. Lol

This little bit of typing may include many 'LOLs', because its the only way I can deal with it all this time around. It's scary, and unnerving, and anxiety-causing, and sometimes when I can't sleep I get sad, but mostly I just have to laugh it off and be sarcastic, and smile regardless. I know exactly (kind of) what's going on this time, I know what's coming next, and I think I know what's next after that. 

About a month ago I saw my girl-part surgeon and we came up with a plan. I've been getting sick again, sick enough to call in sick. And thats actually saying a lot, because years of being sick equals your brain and body to start accepting sick as your norm, and while days off sound nice, it's like accepting defeat, for me. So, I'd have my second laporoscopy in the summer. The surgery is what gave me about 6 months of absolute perfectness as far as my health went, and I've been wanting a second one ever since those first 6 months ended. But annual surgery is never recommended, so I had to wait until it became more obvious to my doctors that it was necessary.

It turns out, Endo is a determined little fucker. I've always been aware of the fact that a laporoscopy wouldn't cure the disease, but I never imagined my uterus looking at the surgery as some kind of grand challenge. It has come back with a vengeance! It's been a year and a half since my first surgery (I can't believe it's been that long), and in just the last 4 months, it's like those little misplaced cells has been snorting Speed. Every night I go to bed exhausted, not because of work etc, but because it takes all my strength and will not to just collapse from the pain and the nausea, and the frustration. (Collapse and/or stab myself in the uterus.)

This past Tuesday though, I did collapse. The pain hit so suddenly and severely that literally knocked the wind out of me. I was up all night wrapped around my heating pad, jacked on Ativan (because pain that big rightfully causes panic), and kept assuming it would pass. Because I've been in pain before! The pain comes, rips through my middle, and then it's gone, I catch my breath and move on. But this time I woke up (from an Ativan coma lol) in even more pain. I went to work in the morning assuming a walk might help, but every step was a huge regret. Luckily I got the afternoon off, and in the evening we went to emerge. (I say WE because my boyfriend bruised his ribs, and needed health care as well. What a pair!)

After blood work and scans and ultrasounds and pees in cups, and pain killer shots (during which I told awful jokes and hummed silly songs to distract myself), the physician told me it was likely a ruptured ovarian cyst. So I got a codeine prescription and we shuffled home. We were both propped up in bed eating dinner and taking turns with my heating pad when the physician called me from the hospital. He'd discussed with my surgeon, Dr. Ben (who I guess was on call in the hospital) and he realized it was likely more serious then a cyst. 

Dr. Ben asked me to come see him at his office, and we bumped our plans up a little. His clear concern concerned me, more then I had been. So now my laporoscopy will be the end of this month. I'd only wanted to wait so that I wouldn't be missing real work hours (since I'm off in the summer), but the waiting option has been taken off the table. And then come the big decisions: we will (because its what we've always wanted eventually) start trying for a handsome baby much sooner then later, so that I can go under for a full hysterectomy as soon as possible. And that is what I want. 

I don't want to spend the next 10 years volleying between healthiness and awfulness, exploring different pharmaceutical paths and band-aid surgeries every other year, just because a baby etc hasn't been in our immediate plans. I want to get it all over with, get it all out, and move on. But first I want (and hope and wish and pray) to get fat and pregnant and glowy. Dr. Ben said he'd opt to preform a radical hysterectomy now (the only cure for Endometriosis), but he knows I want a baby of my own if its possible. The laporoscopy will give us a few more months to save and mentally prepare, and it'll leave me feeling healthy and happy enough to actively try (and enjoy trying) to get pregnant. 

And then we'll get married, at some point. Eventually! Lol. Weddings have always come later then a baby, on the list of things I'd like to spend my money on. Teeny sparkly baby shoes make me giddier then wedding dresses in windows. 

So for now, I laugh through the absolute discomfort, and I enjoy this heart-pounding city that has always healed my soul a little. And I stay away from Google before surgery, this time! And I don't stress about the time off work, or whether or not we can afford a baby in the next year. And I hope to start going to the bathroom and feeling skinny again, lol...codeine makes everything but my digestive system feel better. 

A'Men

I can't completely remember how I came across this little piece of video, but for 3 minutes and 36 seconds I didn't breathe, I was so in awe.  I was the closest I may ever come to feeling what a 'religious experience' must feel like.  She spills spectacular words.  It was also recorded at the Bowery Poetry Club, and we have always adored that nook of New York.

Please watch!

Anxiety Group- poetry slam:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=gVEf6jS8GdU

Proud Princess

Recently my JK/SKs and I engaged in out first 'gender specification' conversation, and I've been so excited to share it with you! It came about completely organically, and it's pure coincidence that I'd spent time learning about how to address kids on such 'rainbow families' topics in a recent ECE conference. 

My class and I had crossed into our 'school age' classroom during our after school program, and we were lining up to play outside (our only direct door is in the SA room) when one of our SA student's babysitters came in to pick her up. He is gay, and in a way that is a little more obvious. The SA student has mentioned, 'yea, that's my gay babysitter', and we've never avoided the topic with the other kids, but it's also never been asked about. 

This afternoon he came in very dressed up, and one of my JKs said, 'you look like a girl!' An SK agreed, 'yea, you always look like a girl!' They weren't saying so in a mean way, they thought it was funny though. The moment caught me so off guard though, because we'd run into him at the door many times before, so blurted out something about 'sometimes boys can be even prettier then girls', joking around a little myself. I'm so thankful that he took the whole situation in stride, because I felt so guilty just being witness to my kids' behavior, even though I know it wasn't coming from a homophobic place. 

In the time it took to walk out to our designated play area outside, I had collected my thoughts and called everyone over to sit down. This is usually what we do when there has been some negative behavior that we want the whole class to learn from vs singling out one child. Before now we've had many 'tattle tailing' chats!

I started out by saying, 'so in the cubby room we started making some comments that maybe weren't the BEST choice,' and they knew exactly what I was talking about. I asked why they thought he looked like a girl. 'He had diamond earrings...he was dressed fancy...he had lip gloss!' Then I asked 'what could be have done to look more like a boy?' They suggested he not wear earrings or lip gloss, and dress in just plain jeans. So then we collectively realized that I was not wearing earrings, and I was not wearing lip gloss, and I had just plain jeans on, BUT that didn't make me look more like a boy!

They were a little shocked, like we'd stumbled across some grand revelation. Especially when I related his lip gloss, to all of our nail painting! They already knew that boys were allowed to get their nails painted with the girls, whenever Miss Jorja has time, so being able to show a parallel between nail polish and earrings etc, was great. 

We ended the conversation with a little brainstorming on what we could say the next time we see this babysitter. I think he would be more then flattered to hear, 'you look very shiny today!' 

PANTIES!!! (In A Bunch)

http://theblacksphere.net/2013/03/victorias-secret-is-coming-for-your-middle-schooler/

I totally heart VS a it's sister companies, but this blows my mind a tad. 

I bought my first thong innnn grade 10 I believe, with my 16th bday money (I had an early bday). It was bright blue and basically bathing suit material, and from Bootlegger. It was hideous and so ill-fitted/designed. But I felt super special. 

When I first started reading this article (linked at the top) I thought, 'smart idea Victoria!' The Bright Young Things title is actually pretty great, it sounds happy and positive! And because I think girls of all ages should love and celebrate their bodies, I think super fun undies for younger girls is a perfectly ok idea. 

Before finding this article, I had just spent a few minutes scrolling through pictures/testimonials on a popular weight loss/healthy living brand's Facebook page. Women posted their before and after pictures of their bodies, all of which were impressive and inspiring. The most noticeable transformations though? What they were wearing! 95% of the women took their pictures in their undies (brave women!), and the before pictures were far more often then not dressed in sports bras and granny panties (for lack of a better word). Then the after photos were decked out in lacy bikini briefs and push-up bras! And I loved it! Females getting fit so obviously felt happier about themselves and were excited to show it off, and excited to do other things (like wear sexy undies) to further boost their confidence!

That's my favorite thing about fun undies, they make you feel fun! Even when no one else may ever see them! When I open my undies drawer in the way-too-early-cranky mornings, all the colors and the polka dots and the leopard prints make me smile! And my butt smiles all day in them! I know I'm not going to work to walk in a lingerie fashion show, but that doesn't mean I don't strut a teeny prouder on the days that I know I have something fierce under my catholic school-appropriate clothes. 

I actually think undies can be magical in that way, an figured that if I were ever to become Hollywood's next hottest thing, I'd love to partner with an undies company to start a line called Secret Sparkle..SS for short of course. It would be the snazziest patterns, with little gems and laces, but every pair would be comfy and productive enough to be worn on an every day basis. And women everywhere would walk into their next board room meeting, or parent-teacher conference with an extra bounce in their step, because only they would know alllllll that's goin on down there. 

Really though, who's taken the time to shave their legs in the middle of winter, even though no one but your kaki pants would be feeling them? And can you deny feeling deviously special, knowing that you were keeping a smooth secret (sparkle) under there? Well undies are just like that!

However. 

*Ahem. 

I am a grown ass woman, so I am allowed to think and talk all I want about sexy, sparkly panties. I am allowed to wear sexy, sparkly panties. 11 and 12, and 13 year olds? 

Bright, happy, fun colors and patterns will, and should be wanted by young girls. That much makes sense. As soon as potty-training begins, my daughters going to have the hippest undies to celebrate with! 

And even marketing 'Bikini' style undies to young girls is fine by me, because I know it's something they'd be drawn to. But we (as adults, and marketers, as consumers, as a society) should not even give girls the chance to ever be drawn to under garments with ANY words on them, let alone 'Feelin Lucky?'....?!!! I don't care if Victorias Secret writes 'DORA THE EXPLORER' on the butts...it is unnecessary because NO ONE SHOULD BE READING THE BUTTS OF CHILDREN! 

Uhmm, duh. 

The world is full of slutty things, and 'our' children are exposed to it every day, so they are bound to be drawn to (with their over-paid allowances) what is 'cool'. And I'm sure slutty TV shows make it perfectly clear that undies with words on the butts are very cool. But by allowing such things on the market, we are basically telling these too-young females, 'Its ok to be a slut, if everyone else wants to be a slut. Yes, please start a tab on how many boys in your middle school classes you can get to stare at your ass long enough to read it!' 

I have no solution for this problem, of course. Lol. I don't know, raise you children right, and hopefully they won't want words on their asses until they are of a legal age? I don't have time to write a letter a day to VS telling them they they are about to destroy the future of our gender. Really, I just wanted to vent. This started out as just wanting to share and comment on this article, on Facebook, but we all know how long-winded this Princess really is. 

The Prince of Princes

For the last few months there has been a lady from China living with us, at dad's house.  She's a professor and was brought here to do research at the university.  She is leaving at the end of this month, and as a thank you for our hospitality, she took us to a restaurant she found that serves traditional Chinese style food.

We all sat around a table with a big pot of soup in the middle, and when the soup boils, you add in you pick of raw meats and veggies, and noodles etc.  With options like 'black fungus', calf stomach, and quail eggs, it's safe for you to assume that MY plate did not end up being worth the all-you-can-eat price tag.  Because my Endometriosis is more under control, my stomach feels better in general, and my current weight (compared to what I weighed 18 months ago) is a good indicator of a decent appetite, but it is still not at all an adventurous stomach!  I stuck to boiling corn and broccoli, and fake crab.

Nonetheless my insides were pissed off.  I think just looking at the plates of raw chicken, and shrimps with eyes still in their heads made my guts anxious.  So once we were finally on our way home (the Chinese appreciate taking their time to digest at the table, and drink tea very slowly, apparently), I text my boyfriend and told him to please make sure our bathroom would be unoccupied, so it could be all mine or a while.

This is what I came home to...

#tummytroubles #hegetsit #candlelitpoo 

 

I'm (Almost) Completely Joking, By The Way

I was planning on finishing and posting this a few nights ago, but then I got distracted by Google. And painting my nails. And season two of Brothers & Sisters...

I saw Dark Skies tonight, and was completely impressed. Not only are Kerri Russell and her teeny boobs still adorable and great to watch, but the Weinstein brothers managed to (help) create an alien movie that was actually scary, and realistic-seeming. More often then not, an ET flick is just ruined the moment the audience actually sees the space creature. I remember being enthralled by Signs, and Mel Gibson, years ago. It was suspenseful and interesting, and so eerie, and then all of a sudden there's this giant blue alien on the TV! I probably said 'wtf' out loud. 

Dark Skies (while I still don't fully understand the title because it was never darker then usual), never lost my attention. The 'possessed' creepy kids seemed realistic, the 'facts' that were discovered were completely 'holy crap!'-worthy, and the physical presence of these extra terrestrials (actually called 'Greys'..because all things Greys are great), was perfect. They were dark and shadowy, they did have big light bulb heads...more movies should trust that the human mind will easily create all the scariness that is required! Plus the ending wasn't horrible!

The movie got me thinking though...

I've always had a thing for aliens. And I'm SO glad that aliens are apparently the new vampires, as far as cinema goes this year. Is it strange to not feel that I have enough personal proof to believe in God, but I have a kind of hopeless romantic belief in ALIENS regardless? 

I have this vivid recollection of a dream (or WAS it a dream?!) where I was walking through a giant open field, it was dusky out, up to what appeared to be a spaceship. Like a saucer. And there were lights flashing all around the outside. And when I touched the ship with both my hands, I could get the lights to pause, but if I touched it with just one hand, the lights would continue flashing. Or was it the other way around? The lights were glowing constantly, but when I used both hands to touch the ship they started flashing, and if I only touched it with one hand, nothing would change. Not important! The vivid bit is a moment where I was testing out the lights, and put only one hand on the ship, but a second later the lights started flashing...but they shouldn't be flashing...because I only had one hand on it...so I slowly turned to my right...and next to my hand...was a long, thin, grey hand...and attached to that hand was a tall, thin, grey creature!

The alien smarty pants in the movie claimed that dreams about aliens, are often our brains way of reminding us of things that ACTUALLY happened. Dum dum dum...


Also! According to Wikipedia, typical claims from 'Experiencers' (abductees) involve being subjected to a forced medical examination that emphasizes their reproductive system. Hello! 

I have come across forums full of people claiming to have been abducted, as well as people who have bared witness to someone being abducted. In both cases, the abductee is described as losing the ability to control muscular movement, dizziness/faintness, blurred vision, pounding heart beat, slurred speech, sometimes physical illness (vomiting etc), and a general sense of confusion and doom. 

So. Basically. In conclusion, it is entirely possible that Endometriosis is just a made up name created in haste for a reproductive condition that has an unknown origin or cure, because scientists refuse to accept that it comes from outer space, and panic attacks are not part of an elaborate mental disorder, but instead an overlook-able sign that we have actually been abducted by aliens in the past.

Ta da! Mystery solved!

Now I just need to accept that if I never get better, it's at least in the name of extra terrestrial science. 

Mental Illness Awareness Week

Now is the time, annually, that we take a slightly deeper interest in mental health. A girlfriend's well-worded blog post on the subject (http://liveitactive.wordpress.com/2013/02/12/lets-talk-about-mental-illness/) reminded me that I had to type too. 

Every year since I began suffering with a mental illness (a good 11 years now), I do feel and believe that the situation as a whole has gotten better. I do feel and believe that the world as a whole has grown more excepting, at least more tolerant of mental illness, and more aware of the importance of mental health. But mental illness is a tough thing to label, describe, and be empathetic about, so there is still so much progress that can be made. So much potential. 

Like my friend, I believe the best thing we can do for this disease, is let the world know about it. We have hundreds of drugs, and specialists, and treatment options, but not awareness. Like so many perfectly normal things in this world, mental illness still comes off as being taboo, an embarrassing handicap. This mindset leads us to denial, and by the time we start rounding 30 years old..we should all have had some experience with where denial really gets us!

Besides sever eating disorder cases, a mental illness is an invisible illness, which makes it understandably harder for outsiders to understand, or recognize. When high school friends are shocked to learn that I was diagnosed with depression in my early teens, or when coworkers are shocked to discover that I still fight daily with my anxiety, it is the greatest testament to my likely Oscar-worthy acting skills! (Thank you very much!). No one knows (knew) what I was dealing with because I'm good at hiding it (often the hiding is subconscious, and just happens naturally). When I show up to work with bags under my eyes, it's assumed I was working late, or partying late...not up all night with a gut-wrenching panic attack. Panic attacks aren't nearly as every-day normal as getting shitfaced and dancing until 3am on a Wednesday...so why would anyone assume correctly? We notice a friend is extra moody today, and we assume she must have had a fight with her on again-off again boyfriend, again, not that she's actually suffering from clinical depression and hasn't quite found a medication that works well enough for her. 

I've had the luxury of being surrounded by good, accepting people, and being raised to be confident, so it's easier for me to be an open book, where I am in my life now. Panic attacks happen, I see my pharmacist once a month, I cry like a fucking baby sometimes, and Ativan is a gift from god. Those are simple facts to me, but not to everyone. And I understand that side of things as well. 

When I first started dealing with my anxiety (because clinical depression wasn't enough for one little woman to deal with..not to mention the overwhelming physical illness..), I was never in denial, but I was embarrassed. I was 25 and while friends were entering careers and getting married and buying homes and making babies, I was living at home, forced to be unemployed, and feeling utterly pathetic. I got very good, for a while, at avoiding that stupid 'what have you been up to?' conversation when running into an old friend randomly. Then I realized just how different my life would be, had I felt comfortable enough to tell my friends and family about my depression when I was in high school. I realized how much it would have helped, if I could have been my real, honest self, and still felt normal and cool. That's when this blog started! I decided it was perfectly ok for me to type, and discuss, and joke about my personal mental illness(es), all the while hoping that it may help others feel perfectly ok to do so too. Because it should be. 

One day, depression (and anxiety, bipolar, Aspergers, agoraphobia, manic depression, OCD, etc.) will be seen the way cancer is seen. Scary, sometimes ugly, but REAL and important. Worthy of the worlds attention, and fundraising, and empathy. Until then, I appreciate the baby steps that society is taking. I appreciate professionals (like my friend) taking the time to speak out. I appreciate celebrities (Brooke Shields, Ellen's BABE of a girlfriend, Zach Braff, Cameron Diaz, Howie Mandel, etc) who are unafraid of being honest with their fans, despite their haters. I appreciate brands like Bell, who use their power to raise funds and awareness for the cause. And I appreciate those who continue to love and adore me, despite my nuts-ness ;)

Nostalgia Will Be The Death Of Me

After a weekend full of beautiful Birthday partying, I went back to mom's to walk our dog while she's away. The walk was cold, but smelt the way winter should smell. I fed little Clay, snuggled him, and then made the mistake of peeking into one of the albums on the living room bookshelf. And that's where I spent the next 40 minutes. 

I've always been a cheesy, sentimental, nostalgic sucker, and Christmas through my Birthday seems to be the worst. Christmas childhood memories are my very favorite, and then it's all the emotion that comes with ringing in a new year, and then my Birthday comes, another marker of a new (personal) year, realizing the last one is actually over (already?!), and it's all a little overwhelming. Plus it's winter, so naturally everything is a little sadder!

I have never been one to shy away from my Birthday. I firmly believe we all deserve a day to be celebrated, and I admittedly enjoy the 24 hours of Facebook attention. I have never worried about getting older, the future hasn't scared me since I was in high school. I am extremely happy, thankful where I am in my life, how far I've come, and who's come with me. But once I start flipping through baby pictures (and can't bring myself to stop flipping), a nervousness does sink in. Nervous to get further away from these perfect little moments. 

My parents made utterly beautiful children. 

I don't say that in a strictly self-absorbed way. They had definitely blessed us with extremely decent genes, but in every picture, on every page, throughout all those binders, are the happiest little faces. Just happy and so in love. We were blessed with a very healthy, happy childhood. And that makes me cry for some reason!

It might have something to do with the fact that it all ended in divorce. And also the hormones. (It's always going to be the hormones, isn't it?). We were just so god damn cute. And if I get this emotional over baby pictures, I can't imagine what it does to parents. I mean, that first blondey crooked-smile baby is turning 27!? 

I get excited, knowing all that is bound to happen in this new 'I am 27' year. Twenty-seven is a sexy sounding number. I have a feeling that it's going to be, actually, wonderful. 

But life isn't perfect. Not as perfect as it felt, I'm sure, when I was turning 2 and about to get a brand new brother. Or when I was turning 5, and my favorite little sister was finally at my Birthday party. They were precious moments, because we were precious, captured in invaluable snap shots. And when I look at them now, I can't help but hate how far away they seem. How far away that 'Who cares! We're young and we're perfect' feeling is. Children are definitely oblivious to the 'real world' (if they're lucky), but that's part of what makes us beautiful. 

We are still a respectably handsome family, don't get me wrong! And we are all growing, succeeding, relatively happy, and lucky in love, decent human beings. So I have no fear of how much time we have left, or what we're going to do with it...but of how much time has passed. You don't realize it, at least I don't, at least not in an obvious way, the time passing. You don't realize the time passing and the responsibilities mounting, the friends coming and going, the heart breaking and loving, because it just happens. But then you open the pages that your Nana started filling with these gorgeous, happy, care-free faces 28 years ago, and suddenly it's so easy to spend 40 minutes sitting on the floor covering your sweater sleeves in tears. And snot! 

My 1st Birthday party - Mom wore a bow tie, I wore the cake

An angel putting up the angel ;)

My mom was a model you know

He's always loved having a big sister!

A couple of suckers (and Nana)

My very favorite sister

Told'ja we were good looking...

Where Blogs End and Poems Start

Nights like this and feelings like this, the feelings in my head and in my heart, it reminds me of the sky. Not just any sky, the sky above the curb I sat on across from the mall, the night I got arrested. 

I've never actually told my parents I've been arrested. I was 18 so the police didn't need to contact them, I went to court on my own, paid the fine myself, got myself to community service. Turns out though, lol, the 5 Finger Discount is actually a gene inherited. 

I sat on that curb, in the dark and breezy and wet night, staring into the sky. I was feeling so sad, and angry in general, and trying desperately to see the stars I saw from my Dominican rooftop. 

Dominican is a...a THING, or a moment in my life that I will carry with me to the grave. A necessary thing, a perfect moment, where after years of depression I felt more free and more alive and more possible then I ever had in my life. I can't for sure say that anything or any moment has surpassed Dominican. But every now and then I find myself looking for that sky again, feeling under that sky again.  That sky which...

That sky
it's almost a comforting place
I want to run to
every now and again,
dark and wet and alone
and seeming so far from 
the free and the possible. 
A comfortable place
for the sad and generally angry
desperately looking
for the stars that had to have been real. 
But I know I can't stay here
because I know those stars exist
just a comfortable place 
to visit and remember
that no matter how far we've come 
it's all the same sky.