Tuesday, July 24, 2012
In September I had a hysterectomy because of endometriosis. It was a full hysterectomy, and there is a fancy word for that, but I opted for the whole shebang because I (with Travis) knew I didn't want any more kids and my ovaries were being douche bags along with my uterus. My doctor warned me about early menopause, women in my family shared their experiences, and of course I consulted the Google - but really, the decision was an easy one. I took a week off from work, got some hormone replacement pills and that was that.
September, October, November, and December were filled with holidays, Gavin's first months of preschool, crazy overtime at work, and a new childcare situation. I really didn't have time to think about how the hysterectomy was affecting my life. In January, things started to settle down, and I noticed some changes. Now, while I am an open book about some things, I'll just leave this part to your imagination (or knowledge, because if we've talked in person, I've probably told you). I started making what seemed like weekly trips to the doctor due to the health issues. I started snapping at my kids. I started to care about whether the kitchen was clean or not...and when I say care, I mean obsess. I would get anxious about how Gavin was doing in preschool and how Lucas was doing in daycare, convinced that there was something that I should be doing that I wasn't. I would complain all the time about gaining weight and get PISSED when Trav suggested that I not order pizza for dinner. Everything made me cry (of course, this isn't really anything new, but still...). And while this was going on, I was aware of it. What I mean is, it's like this...
There is this pool and everyone is swimming around...I guess the pool is life? It's an analogy, just work with me. So everyone is swimming, but for some reason, you're underwater. You can breathe under there, I mean, you are surviving, but obviously, you're underwater - everything is a little distorted. You can't see or hear as well as other people, and you're isolated since everyone else is at the top. Now, sometimes you tread water really really hard and you make it up to the top and you see how everyone else is getting on, and you think, "I can do this, I can stay up here and swim", but then something happens, like someone says something that for some reason just sets you off, or splashes you (I don't know, still trying to go with the pool example) and you can't tread water anymore. You can't swim with everyone else, and this is both frustrating and acceptable, because on one hand, of course you want to swim with everyone else and not be underneath the water where it's darker and of course you want to swim with your family and your kids and not have them wonder if you're going to sink at any minute, but on the other hand, screw them, they don't know what you're going through, and who's to say a person is supposed to swim at the top?
So, since January, I've been alternating between treading water and sinking. I've dealt with depression in the past, both in high school and then after having my kids - but this has been something different. It was/is less sadness and more anxiousness. And also quickness to anger. That was the weirdest part to deal with, because most of the time I knew I was being irrational, but I just couldn't help it. There are a lot of things I wish I could take back concerning my kids. I never physically lashed out, but I yelled or was sharp with them enough that I started to worry that they would always see me that way - like, we can't do anything because mommy gets mad about everything. I'm sorry for being short with my family, or isolating myself because I just couldn't pretend like everything was peachy keen when it wasn't. And I'm sorry to Travis most of all, because he is the only one who not only had to deal with me, but had to deal with me trying to deal with everything else, if that makes sense.
I'm writing this blog now because I think I'm starting to see the end of the tunnel with this little phase in my life. I started to accept that my body is taking it's sweet ass time getting back to normal after the hysterectomy. I also accepted that no doctor could tell me exactly what I needed to do, since everyone is different and requires different hormone levels. I guess I'm ok with the fact that I have been forced to buy a flippin' old lady MTWTF pill-holder. I don't regret the surgery, but while some people ('sup Shar) told me it would take awhile to get back to normal, I had no idea what I was in for. Pardon the language, but just to be clear, hormones are fucking serious. I'm finally starting to feel like myself again, though, and I just wanted to say to anyone dealing with anything like this, or depression, or whatever - and by dealing with it I mean trying to figure it out and "get better" - it just takes time and you can make it to the other side.
Sunday, April 29, 2012
- I wonder if "Best Week Ever" is still on the air.
- Scott Disik is a dick.
- Joel McHale's hair is gross...he's supposed to be the good-looking guy?
- I should read just enough Jane Austen to pretend I understand literature.
- No Amazon, I do not want to read "50 Shades of Grey."
- Thanks Hugh Howie, now I'm afraid to breathe the air or go underground.
- I don't hate Justin Bieber.
- The lead singer of Tears for Fears is kinda sexy.
- You can be a great singer, sing crappy lyrics, and still be ok. You can be a bad singer, sing great lyrics, and still be ok. If you are a bad singer and sing bad lyrics, you're Katy Perry.
- Wait, is the lead singer of Tears for Fears still alive?
- Cake Cake Cake Cake Cake Cake Cake
- Why do I get so nervous when I have to type the letters verifying I'm a real person?
- Is anyone going to be offended if I don't send these thank-you notes?
- I think the reason I don't like plants is because they remind me of insects...or genitalia.
- Cake Cake Cake Cake Cake Ca...fricken pop music get out of my head!
- Ryan Gosling.
Monday, April 23, 2012
For the most part, I agree that you can't make judgments about a person and think how you would "do it better" if it was you. When I see a parent carrying their screaming child through the mall I have nothing but sympathy. But there are some things people do, or say, or wear, etc...and in these cases I have no choice but to judge. I don't even mean "judge" in a negative context...I should say "make decisions about."
1. If you have a handicapped sticker on your license plate, and I'm behind you on the road, I will immediately assume you are a slow and/or bad driver. I will pass you if it is safe to do so in anticipation of your bad driving skills. If you make one tiny mistake - even one that I have made plenty of times - like drift slightly to one side of the lane, or forget to use your turn signal - I will sigh with exasperation and look at you to catch your eye as I pass so you know that I am comparing your driving to my superior car-handling abilities. If I can't pass, I won't tailgate, but I will talk to you. I know you can't hear me, but I'll be talking just the same. If you tap your brakes for no apparent reason, I will remind you that you don't need to panic every time the car in front of you slows down. And I will feel a sense of vindication if our eyes do meet as we pass, because I know that you will know that we have battled, and I have won.
Now, please don't think I'm insensitive to handicapped people - that isn't it. I rear-ended someone on the highway a few months ago; I'm a far from perfect driver. And I know that being handicapped doesn't mean you should loose your freedom. But if you drive around West Bloomfield, where there seem to be a large number of a certain group of drivers......ellipses....you cannot tell me you don't make the same assumption.
2. The next one is a very clear case of the pot calling the kettle black. I was an English major, but I can't spell. I admit that. But if I read something, like a news article, or a syllabus for one of my classes, and there are spelling or grammatical errors, I will immediately assume the author is careless, and depending on the nature of the writing, not that smart. I'm not talking about emails or casual writing - like I said, I'm a horrible speller so I don't care if I get an email from a friend with spelling mistakes - but if you're going to write something that other people need to get information from, or that something that someone HAS to read - take the time to make sure words are spelled correctly! A law firm posted an article about something...I don't remember what...and in the article they used "your" instead of "you're." Do you know how much money some lawyers charge per hour? If I'm going to fork over cash for every 5 minutes you spend writing an email, you better know the difference between "your" and "you're."
3. I judge you if you run more than 5 miles at one time. Many of my friends are runners. Many of them have run marathons. Well guess what. I think you are all insane. I love you all. I respect the fact that you want to take care of yourself, and I know many people really love running...but also I think you're insane.
4. Ok, last one...and it is a parent one. I know I said that I have nothing but sympathy for the parent carrying their screaming child through the mall, and that is true. But I will judge you as a parent if you decide that it is ok to bring your child to a restaurant (that isn't Chucky Cheese or some other kid-centered place) at 9:30 at night, and in doing so, get upset when the kid is cranky and whiny and misbehaving. When I worked at Bennigan's a family came in shortly before closing time with small children and requested a table away from others so they wouldn't bother anyone. How thoughtful. Forget the fact that your child threw crayons and food all over the floor, cried until you let them drink coke with their chicken fingers, and insisted on taking 4 trips to the bathroom. News flash - your 4-year-old should not be expected to take a night out on the town with mom and dad like an adult. I'm not saying parents should hibernate and never go out with their kids - but if the only way you can do anything is if you bring your kids along, go to Wendy's and have a car picnic. Go to Red Robin - there are always tons of kids there and they have balloons and crap all over the walls. But if you can, try to go earlier in the night because your kids are tired, even if they insist that they aren't. Don't let them trick you into thinking you're not in charge!
I guess that's it for now - I held back from saying anything about country music, hipsters, and people who write blogs that no one wants to read - so hopefully I didn't make too many people mad.
Saturday, April 14, 2012
I went bathing suit shopping last weekend. It left me very confused and angry – and NO, not because I’m a stereotypical woman who thinks I look horrible in a bathing suit. I was confused and angry because of the following observations:
1. Nylon and spandex are obviously manufactured by the same children who mine conflict diamonds. Either that, or the chemistry behind making these materials is extremely advanced and possibly proprietary information of aliens in our solar system. These are my only explanations as to why bathing suits are so flipping expensive. I bought a tank-top-style swimsuit so…how much material is that? The top was $86. THE TOP. Again, just the top of the swimsuit was $86. The bottom, which is essentially a stretchy pair of underwear, was $57. Yes, I bought $57 underwear. If my swimsuit had been a retro look, like old-style full skirt and sleeves, maybe I could see paying this much.
2. You might ask, why didn’t you just go to Target or Kohl’s and buy a less expensive suit? It is your own fault for buying from Everything but Water. If you ask me this question, you are either a man, or you were blessed with perfect boobs. Sorry to be so blunt. A woman with a larger chest that, let’s be honest, needs some support, simply cannot rely on cheaper swimsuits to fit well and look semi-normal. Most of the cheaper swimsuits have padding as a way to offer support, which means that you look like you are trying smuggle four slightly deflated balloons to the beach. I say four, because you have your chest…and then the tightness of the swimsuit, and then the padding. So you get an effect that looks something like you have abs on your chest. The suits that don’t have padding – triangle-type tops are perfect examples – are a joke for anyone over a B cup. So, swimsuits are made with absolutely no regard for the majority of women who will be wearing them.
3. Finally…I am turning 30 this year. I know that isn’t OLD. But it’s old enough. Just like I can no longer with good conscience buy a tank top at Abercrombie, I can no longer bring myself to buy a two-piece. Having two kids, with scars…I mean, I’m not totally vain or anything, but I just feel comfortable with a little more coverage. But, if you want more coverage, you apparently can’t try and buy a suit at Victoria’s Secret…at least not when the suits for the spring break crowd are on the floor. I asked if they had tankinis and the sales girl looked at me with pity and shook her head. Fine. FINE, I rocked Acapulco when I was your age young lady.
So, maybe I am a little bitter, but the main point - $150 is ridiculous to pay for a swimsuit.