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!

Flattered

I just took the time to read through all the comments on all my posts so far. It blows my mind, all the comments and stories that 'Anonymous' writers leave, because these are people I don't personally know, and yet they are reading what I write. There's some magic in that. A really warm magic.

Anyways, because I do not receive notifications when someone has posted a comment, like it happens on Facebook, I wanted to share my personal email address, and invite anyone who has any questions, or stories to share, or advice to ask for, or just someone to vent to, to please send me a note..

lemmonade2000@hotmail.com

And thank you again to anyone and everyone who's ever cared enough to read. Really though.

6:10am

I've come to the conclusion that my brain and my body are still scared of bed time.

I haven't gone to sleep yet. I got home before midnight and posted Vegas pictures, chatted with dad, did my nails, and watched the entire first season of Ringer. Even now, I'm forcing myself to brush my teeth and get ready for bed. It's not the sleep I'm particularly scared of though, because lord knows I'm a superb napper. It's bed time, at night time.

I used to have the worst attacks in the middle of the night, waking me up to spend the rest of the night on the bathroom floor, or looking the same episode of Greys. I don't know why, but everything feels worse at night. Is that just me? Colds get stuffier, flues get more nauseous, period pains get stronger. And panic attacks get scarier. Well, they used to. Knock on wood, I haven't actually endured a nocturnal attack in..a long ass time, come to think of it. And yet, when it gets dark, and time comes to go to sleep alone, my brain figures, 'Why risk it?'

I know it has a lot to do with the 'alone' part. I go to sleep much easier when someone is in the same bed. I just feel safer. I live at home still, and I know that my dad is a mere 5 steps away, but that can seem SO much further then the very next pillow. During my most recent attacks, I wouldn't even wake my boyfriend up for help, when it was happening. Luckily, he's a very deep sleeper! But I felt safer, trying to catch my breath, if he was sleeping next to me.

Again, I'm fine taking a nap alone, I almost sometimes prefer it, so I can really sprawl! But at 11:30, when my best friend is driving me back home, my chest gets a little tighter, and a little sad, knowing that I'll be sleeping alone tonight.

Why does night time make things worse? Night time is romantic! Night time is stars! But there is something about the sun getting ready to come back up, and the promise of everyone else waking up again soon, that makes it easier to finally get 'a good nights rest'.

#lessonearnedinvegas

1. I owe my mother and father big time, for their superb gene pool.

For three nights we VIP partied, and enjoyed free bottle service (I may not drink, but it still makes me feel like a baller), all thanks to how rather attractive we are. Surely, looks wont get you everywhere, but they will get you a damn good time.


2. Don't ask a crazy lady for $5.

I can honestly say that I dont really have any regrets in my life, which is impressive after nearly 26 years. My last night in Vegas, changed that!

After all the dancing, all the shinanigans in The Sugar Factory, and all the pictures taken with lesbians, we got in a cab to go back to our own hotel. As luck would have it, we picked the only can in Vegas that didn't accept Visa. You can buy McDonalds, wifi, poker chips, a pack of gum or a single tampon in a bathroom vending machine with Visa in Vegas! But not our cab. We had $10 and the fare was $15. The closest bank machine in our lobby was 10 minutes away from the doors, and the driver was holding my sister hostage, so I decided to ask someone to borrow $5 for a minute.

Continuing on my lucky streak, the first lady with cash (clearly we weren't the only ones depending on credit cards), was a raging drunk, escaped from a mental institution. At first she was more then happy to just GIVE me the money, just dandy! Two minutes later, she's following us through the lobby, CHIRPING us for not being able to afford our own cab ride! She went on and on about how when she was our age (did I mention she was 58?) she was employed and educated, and she had a family that she supported, and she was way better looking then we were!

Picture your mother, add 45 years of nicotine damage, and 4 sheets to the wind. Then picture her telling your father (who's stone sober), 'Take my purse! You're going to need the cash to bail me out! I'm going to jail to tonight!' and then threatening to follow two twenty-something girls up to their room! Then picture her taking all the cash out of he wallet, to show off how much smarter she is then everyone else!

I had every intention of giving her the damn $5 back (a cash advance from a Visa required the use of a bank machine AND a teller on the casino floor AND a fingerprint), until she decide to share, 'I can't wait to tell my friends what a BALL I had paying for a cab for two WHORES.' I draw the line at whores. That's when it's time to go alert security, and get a private escort to our elevator. With the $5 back in my wallet.

What happens in Vegas not only needs to stay there, it needs to be forcibly admitted into rehab.


3. I can do it!

Almost 4 years ago I stayed in Vegas for a few nights, and of those few nights, only half of one was spent outside of my hotel room. That's how tight a hold my anxiety had on me. This time, I swore I'd make the time off, and away, worth it. So not only did I dress up and go out every night, I kept myself out, still smiling, until at least 3am. Imagine that! And all while remaining completely sober! Lol.

I can also board, and remain seated on a plane for 5 hours, without getting sick and dying due to major heart palpitations!

In the beginning, coping with a panic disorder involves a lot of running away, and hiding. But when you have no idea where you are in a giant city, no idea where all the exits in a club are, there is no running away. And when you're stuck in a giant chunk of metal one million feet above ground, there really isn't anywhere to hide. All you can do is be brave, and face it, stick it out. And I did! I can do that!


4. As enjoyable as it is to have an excuse to dress way up, and dance for hours (for free!), I'm clearly not a Vegas kind of girl.

Lol, I'm just a lame, elderly lady at heart! I think I prefer being at home watching a movie, or walking around a new city, vs. forcing myself to impress strangers more then once a week (or once every two weeks?). It may have something to do with the face that I'm sober in a drunk city, and already in an in-love relationship in a slutty city..but I like it that way!

The flash, and the smut is fun for a day or two, but I'd far rather spend a week in New York (just as busy, but less in-your-face horny), or Myrtle Beach in a family oriented resort.


5. I want to own, and operate a pop-up wedding chapel!

There was a temporary chapel in one of the hotels on the strip with a little stage, seating for maybe 20 guests, iPads to read vows off of, champagne and cake pops provided, and all of surrounded by completely trendy, non-60's cheesy decor!

Seeing as it was Vegas, you were allowed to acquire a 24hr fake marriage to someone of the same sex, opposite sex, same last name, your pet turtle, or a toaster if you want ($80 is a perfectly reasonable amount to spend on an utterly romantic 15 minutes in the spotlight with your favorite blender!), or you can spontaneously marry the love of your life. Plug your own iPod in for the perfect soundtrack, kiss I Do in front of the giant store front window/ everyone on Las Vegas Blvd, and take home a page from the giant guest book signed by all the people shopping for goofy wedding-themed souvenirs while you were getting hitched 5ft away! I think it's the most brilliant idea!

Or what if a big RV was transformed into a trendy, classy PORTABLE wedding chapel?! I wana.


6. You CAN blister over top of last night's blisters.


7. Even a princess gets dark bags under her eyes, after too many nights of too little sleep!



(Me: Ativan-free, sober, and still smokin)