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A New Old Thing

The other day my good friend asked me for a new blog post. I told her I had nothing new to write about but that I would think about it.

The truth is, I have taken a major step in the last couple of weeks but have (for some reason) been reluctant to share. Maybe because this is something I haven’t done since my mother died 18 years ago. Maybe because I have always felt it was great for other people but not for me (kind of like Breaking Bad).

No, I haven’t started doing Meth (though I think the South Dakota government wants us to?) My newest Vice is taking antidepressant medication.

I fought against it for such a long time (much to my detriment). It was fine, to me, if someone admitted that they needed help. It was great if there was something that they couldn’t handle and needed help with. I was never one to judge anyone taking them and often admired their courage for reaching out and saying so. It just wasn’t for me. I didn’t need it.

And then I got everything (nearly) that I wanted. Great job, beautiful marriage, wonderful friends, insane travel opportunities. I even made a playlist!! about having it so good.

But that sinking, awful, no good feeling still persisted. I was able to pass it off and work around it at times, self medicating when possible (never a good plan). But there were times when the depression just took hold. Like a rock in a bubble. You can only float that weight so long.

I often thought of it like a happy go-lucky dude. Just walking around, minding his business. And then someone would pass him a brick. And it was no big deal! Carrying a brick is easy. But then 100 other people handed off bricks. And you hadn’t yet put one down. Because every bad thought in your brain, every relationship, every obligation, is a BRICK. And all of a sudden you think you are doing your best, holding all of the bricks, juggling them at times… And then your arms get tired. So tired. They hurt, and you just cannot hold all of them..

Needless to say, I did not make a house of my bricks. I dropped them all.

This isn’t the first time it has all come crashing down. Not the first time I tried to go it alone without success. But, somehow, this crash hurt the most. Maybe because I had really convinced myself of my strength this time? Maybe because what I had built from the bricks looked so lovely before it all fell down? I don’t know.

The difference this time, is that I refuse to go with the status quo. I am not going to allow this to happen YET AGAIN. I am working hard for my mental health and taking time to really get to know myself and my issues for the very first time since I was a teenager (and who the fuck knows themselves at 17??).

I know there is more work to be done going forward. I am seeking therapy and exercise (both of which I have hated in the past). But, it has occurred to me that I would like to live a full life. One filled with happiness and promise. Just because my mother died at 46, does not mean that I need to or should. Just admitting that is a new step. I look forward to taking many others. And much like the Matrix, it all starts with a little pill…

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The Buzzing Box

I was texting with some girlfriends earlier and we were talking about how fucking annoying autocorrect is. One was telling me she had meant to text “junk drawer” but accidentally texted “kink drawer.” I laughed and then casually  deduced that we ALL have a “kink drawer.” We all laugh again and I was reminded of a story about when I first moved to Boston. 

When I had agreed to upend my life for love, I had packed everything away nice and tight and put it in storage and then traveled with 3 suitcases to Boston because when I moved here Pete had a studio attic apartment. 

I got a job after a couple months and we had enough money to move into the larger apartment downstairs in the same house. Then I finally saved up the $3,000.00 to get all of my shit delivered from Denver to Boston. 

The movers I hired were awful and super slow. It took forever to coordinate them and even when they showed up, they threatened to leave my sofa on the sidewalk because they couldn’t figure out how to move it. Eventually my sweetheart started helping them empty the truck so we could move on with our lives. 

The movers were in the kitchen positioning a big microwave cart/cabinet and my guy came in with a box CLEARLY LABELED BEDROOM, and just dropped it on the floor of the large kitchen.
 
And that is when we all started hearing a buzz.

My dude and the movers are like, “What is that sound?? Where is it coming from??” They are looking at all of the appliances in the kitchen.

I have my arms literally loaded with breakable dishes and no counter space and the love of my life is like, “It’s coming from this box!”

I tried so hard to say I didn’t hear it or that it was nothing.Probably the neighbors playing music!! He was determined to discover the origin of the sound.

And that is the story of my boyfriend of only one year unboxing my vibrator and turning it off in front of 2 strangers while I unpacked dishes. 

I must add to this and say that it wasn’t one of those inconspicuous vibrators that could be for backs or necks or just a tube. It looked like a dick and had the rabbit attachment and everything. A gift from a very good friend after I broke up with a terrible boyfriend a couple of years prior to the move.

Needless to say, this apparatus is no longer in my “kink drawer,” but boy did it make for a fun conversation after the movers left!!

What about y’all? What’s in your kink drawer? And OMG have you ever been so embarrassed??

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Adult Dinner

Pete is traveling for work again. I went to the grocery store by myself yesterday. Always a mess. I do one of two things. 1.) I buy enough food for an army. I make myself an entire casserole. Or fried rice for 9. An entire loaf of bread for one sandwich. Or I do thing 2.) I buy just cream cheese because I want an egg sandwich with cream cheese. But like, nothing else. I was halfway home yesterday and I realized I did not purchase one single thing that was alive or a plant, unless you count the frozen hash browns. I felt really bad for and about myself for most of the drive home. And then I remembered that the planet is melting and our current idiot in chief is basically begging everyone to bomb us. So, I decided to enjoy the fucking Buffalo chicken pizza.

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Day 3 (i think)

fullsizerender-4Before I start Day 3 and you all wonder what happened to Day 2, it was pretty uneventful. I did a little shopping and then discovered old episodes of Smallville on Hulu. Spent way too much time on Lana and Clark. Sue me. The only noteworthy thing was listening to the latest PuckSoup podcast about “puck bunnies.” I took my book and my snacks down to the pool (I found the pool!!) thinking I would just listen a little and then read a little. I could not turn the podcast off. Such an img_7490incredible different look at the league I adore so much. I can’t say it changed my mind about anything but it certainly made me think about a lot of things. By the way, Patrice Bergeron is so hot and saying that does not diminish my knowledge that he is one of, if not the best, two way center in the league.  Toews beat him in a cup final game. Sure. But my man was rocking a punctured lung, separated shoulder, broken rib, broken nose, etc. Patrice is the best and also completely gorgeous. All there is to say about that.

img_7493On Day 3, I spent a little time mourning our outgoing POTUS. He achieved some pretty incredible things. bin Laden is dead. Every same sex couple in America can now legally be the victim of an over zealous wedding planner. Hundreds of thousands of troops got to come home to their families. Hundreds of kids can now fulfill their dream of serving in the military while maintaining their personal identities. Hard workers with long term illnesses were no longer kept from health insurance. He did it with no help from the GOP and with every ounce of class that I would have thrown out the window the first time someone questioned my place of birth. Obama made me proud to be an American. Michelle made me proud to be a woman with a brain. To say that they will be missed seems like the understatement of the century. I am beside myself.

img_7473Regardless of Cheetos, or narcissists, or the crumbling of our fundamental rights to exist,   I will be marching on Saturday. I cannot be in Boston to march with my ladies who voted for Senator Warren, (who is looking out for each and every one of us!), but I can stand with the ladies here in San Diego. Women’s rights are human rights!! Don’t ever forget that. Cannot wait to glitter up my sign!!

(btw, if you are looking for a gift for me, I want that Leia poster framed and in my kitchen. So damn good.

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Veteran’s Day is About Veterans

IMG_0972Veterans need your help in YOUR community!! 

But you can always donate to Wounded  Warriors!!

Or, if you want to help troops working today, home & abroad!! Please give to USO!!!

Since 1941, the United Service Organizations has stood by our troops through every step of their service. From deployment to rehabilitation and reintegration, we’re there for soldiers and their families. Because we are not a government agency, we rely on generous support from donors like you to fund programs and services that best fit the needs of our troops.

Huge thanks to Rob Wright for the photo!!!

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Frustration Station

bathroom-scaleYesterday marked week number 3 without a cigarette. I celebrated the Super Bowl with a glass of wine but until yesterday, I had been 3 weeks without booze as well. 3 weeks of eating right and exercise. 3 weeks of honest work to become a better me. 3 weeks feels like forever. Or at least long enough to make a difference. Except, I don’t feel like I’ve made a difference at all. I still look just as fat as I did when I started.

As with anything, it’s frustrating to work hard and not see results.

My cigarette cravings are definitely less. The rage blackouts have decreased exponentially. My energy is up! Hangovers gone! But getting nowhere fast is making me want to give it all up.

I’m not going to give up. But today, I want to. The lack of progress is making me cranky. Almost as cranky as the snow. Being trapped inside all the time is definitely not helping my cause. I am getting bored with workout DVDs and I’m just not sure how to work any harder without giving up even more small pleasures.

Gotta find something to help me over this grumpy hump!

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The Stress of being a Quitter

Day 9.

beerandcigs-thumb-254x267-143924As of today it has been 9 days since my last cigarette. 9 days since my last cocktail. Not that I’m trying to quit drinking forever, but I just know that after even one glass of wine I’m going to want to light up. And since I’m trying to get into a shape that isn’t round, I’d honestly rather get any extra cheat calories from cheese.

Quitting two of my favorite things (3 if you count cheese fries) at the same time seemed really scary at first but it hasn’t been impossible. Yet. I have definitely had moments where I want to crawl out of my skin. Moments when I feel a rage blackout is eminent. But I am sticking to it!! If I can make it through a couple of big tests coming up, I know I’ll be able to make it stick.

Since I’m the Queen of stressing out over sports, tonight will not be an easy one to get through vice free. Watching my favorite team vs. my favorite player (who never should have been traded) is always hard for me. And on Friday I will be at Garth Brooks with the bestest BFF to party it up until the wee hours. I’m not sure I’ve ever been to the Garden without ordering a beer.

I can do it. Watch the game from hell. Attend a girls night out.

Wish me luck!!

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