Olaina After School

And she danced!

2011-09-07T11:51:00.000-07:00

Ella's first dance class was a success. That is to say, once she warmed up to the room she felt free to roam freely (and the teacher said that was alright for the walkers in the class), she only cried once (I think she got a bit of an owie when she fell into my arms at one point), and we walked (slowly) through the small parking lot to the car while holding hands.

Letting her be a person

2011-09-07T07:29:00.000-07:00

Often, when people see Ella they say, "She's such a doll."

I thank them.

But it's time for me to let her be a little person, instead of my little doll.

Today she starts her first class: Baby Dance II through the City of Long Beach.

The class description is as follows:

Help your baby develop a love for music and dance in a fun, silly and

friendly environment. We will sing, dance, and play with instruments,

streamers and the parachute and much more. This is a great way to let

loose with your little one and help them to develop socialization skills!

It's going to be a fun time for both of us.

But it's time for me to start letting go. I have to remember to let her walk, even though carrying her is faster. I have to let her eat with the spoon in her hand instead of mine, even though it's less messy to feed her myself. I have to let her fall--so cliche.

She's so much more than a doll.

The Fifth First Day of School

2011-08-30T12:55:00.000-07:00

My teacher-friend reminded me that this is the first day of school where I used to work.

August went by and despite the posts I read about teachers preparing for the new year, I didn't feel a twinge of sadness because I wasn't going back.

My fifth year as an I-used-to-be-a-teacher.

Ella helped with that.

Ella and the fact that I really don't miss teaching.

Nevertheless today is the first day of school.

It should be recognized as it floats by, just another day in a long string of days feeding her oatmeal, taking her to the park, letting her nap...

Today, I can't help but think of the parents' experience on the first day of school. The anxiety, the loneliness, the pride. The I-can't-believe-she's-growing-up feeling of milestones.

Today, I am a mommy who wants her daughter to do OK. To be liked. To make friends. To be included. Today, I love and teach just one child, and she's mine.

From a note to my doctors

2011-08-28T15:40:00.000-07:00

I'm starting to think the best thing to do is give up Medicine A.

For one thing, I'm still having problems falling asleep at night and I'm already taking three Medicine B pills plus two Medicine C pills a night. I don't like the idea of taking more Medicine B to stop a problem that might just be because I'm taking Medicine A.

Also, if I recall correctly, I started taking Medicine D because the Medicine A was causing me to gain weight.

So that's two drugs to cancel out the effects of one drug.

Seems like overkill to me.

I know that I was really bad before I started the Medicine A though, so I'm a little worried about it. But Justin reminds me that there was a time when I was OK without any meds at all, and who's to say I won't be OK again.

I'm guessing it doesn't usually work that way--but is this really what I'm destined for? A lifetime of taking meds out of a granny-like pill box?

Right now I have five pills in the morning and five at night, for a total of six different drugs and ten pills. I know I don't usually care how many pills I'm taking when I'm doing well, but aside from the restless legs I am doing pretty well, so I have to ask what the heck I am doing.

Where's Ella?

2011-08-27T12:32:00.000-07:00

I never thought I'd be one of those mommies who had that question; I'd be eagle-eye-mommy and always know where my kid was playing.

But today I asked, "Where's Ella?"

It seems she's found her independence.

We got to my friend's house for a MOMS Club Swap Meet, and Ella held my hand like we're best friends. But then when I started pawing through the clothes that other MOMS brought, she went around the corner. I looked up, "Where's Ella?"

She came back around the corner.

She kept disappearing into the house or the patio while I talked with friends, ate a bagel and told other people to take her old clothes, please.

It was only when she saw me that she came to keep me company, holding my finger while she walked around, crying and wanting to be picked up, asking for water without saying a word.

Ella is a girl about town.

I kept saying, "She's only been walking for three or four weeks, I'm not used to this."

"But she's doing fine," a friend said.

She was walking on concrete, a little wobbly, "OK, I just can't look," I said, and looked away.

My friend was right--she was fine without me. Not that I could leave her--she has new, strict rules about my departure at any given time--but she could leave me whenever she wanted to go.

It's something I have to get used to.

Our independence.

Ella is free to go.

And I have to let go.

Music and Dancing is Always in Fashion

2011-08-22T09:41:00.000-07:00

It's the Copa Cabana around here.

Last night I made dinner--fish and risotto just so you know--and Ella watched from her play yard.

Part of how I get away with leaving her "alone" while I cook includes music. And dancing.

I dance big.

I dance like my 15 month old is watching.

She giggles and shakes her bootie.

There are arm movements and head shaking involved in our dancing.

Until she whacked her head against the wall of the play yard and I had to rescue her. (Fortunately just before I got the risotto started.)

Her first dancing injury.

Luckily, the memory of a toddler is short, and we were back to the boogie after some cuddles and playing in the living room with oh-so-safe stacking cups.

With any luck there will be video of her dancing soon. As for my dancing, well, that's just for Ella to see.(And BTW, isn't it neat that I have the energy to dance vigorously while I cook? Things aren't all bad around here.)

walking

2011-08-21T12:48:00.000-07:00

Our lives are heavily ruled by Ella's walking experience these days. We have a play yard in the dining room, so that she can be near us when we are cooking or eating. She loves it.

Sometimes.

Mostly she prefers to choose toys from the toy bucket so that she can play in the freedom of the living room.

Dryer Sheets

2011-08-19T21:00:00.000-07:00

Ella has been helping me sort laundry for months. When she gets to the dryer sheet I always take it away from her before she can put it into her mouth.

Today, when we were sorting and folding towels (I'm in charge of the folding, she does the "sorting"), she found the dryer sheet.

She looked at it, got up, toddled over to the wastebasket and threw it away.

I love that girl.

How are you?

2011-08-16T12:23:00.000-07:00

It's easy to blog about feeling miserable.

But how do you enter a post saying, "Fine thanks, and you?"

Of course though, things aren't fine, but they're so much better that I haven't felt like writing because I felt awkward about saying I'm better. Things are a 7 out of 10--10 being best, 7, in my point of view, being C average. Which is better than a 5, but still not good enough.

So yesterday I went back to San Diego--the euphemism for going to see my therapist and psychiatrist.

I explained that I did OK when there was something to do--taking care of Ella, going on play dates (especially going on play dates), getting stuff done. But dropping her off at my mom's house to be taken care of for the day, having to drive for almost 4 hours total alone with my thoughts, no one to worry about in the backseat, that was hard.

There are times when I feel liberated by my alone time driving to San Diego. But when I'm in a low part of the Bipolar II cycle (which can take years to go around, or just days or hours or minutes--but right now years), I hate that I have to do this. I hate that I have to leave my girl. I hate that I have to take so much medicine. I hate that I can't just be normal.

Whatever that is.

The other night when I was tossing and turning because of Restless Leg Syndrome (a side effect of a medication that is working well on my mood but wreaking havoc on my body), I thought, "I wish I could just do a meds cleanse. That I could go off it all and feel great and then go back on little by little til the right combination was achieved."

But I know it doesn't work that way.

For one thing, this is me. I'm not some other person because I take my medicine, I'm who I am without the bizarre demons running through my head.

I'm just a person the way a diabetic on insulin is just a person. We watch our levels and live our lives just the same.

Let's talk about Medicine A (I don't like to name them here because everyone reacts differently to meds and I don't want anyone starting or stopping something because of my experience with a drug). Medicine A sucks. And it's saving my life.

Medicine A has the side effect of making me fat (it slows my metabolism, making me not the always-skinny girl I once was, skinny with or without exercise, no matter what I ate). It has the side effect of Restless Leg Syndrome, which makes it difficult if not impossible (depending on the night) for me to fall asleep.

And, wait for it...

It could make my face start moving with an involuntary muscle movement that will never stop.

So I want to go off Medicine A. Because I don't want to be The-Mom-With-The-Twitching-Face.

However, I also don't want to be the mom from my doctor's notes from 2008. The woman who couldn't get off the couch during the day, who was having nightmares, who had self-mutilation and suicidal ideation. Sooooooooo....

What would you do with Medicine A?

It's a very rare side effect, this twitching-face thing, but I'm rare. I'm on a cocktail of medicines that would make a junky joyous if he found my bottles.

There's the option of titrating me down from everything (woo-hoo! the cleanse!) and starting a new regime, but I could do really badly during the cleanse, and if the new regime didn't work, turning back to This Regime wouldn't necessarily work.

There's the option of lowering my dose of Medicine A, just to see if I can handle it, and raising my dose of medicine that stops my legs from going crazy at night.

Right now we're going with the latter.

So, for those of you who keep eyeing me with that question, "How are you doing?" lingering over our heads, an unvoiced curiosity, there you have it.

For the rest of you, I hope you'll still be my friend even though you've read my blog.

And, since I have a moment while Ella naps and Justin golfs, I'll let you know that my worries extend beyond my medication. As my beloved psychiatrist said, "Your world is bigger now. [So we can't just go changing your meds and seeing what happens, because there's Ella to think about.] But we also want you to enjoy that world."

I do love my world. I love my baby girl. I get so tired of chasing her around all day while she holds my finger like Linus holds his security blanket, but I also know there's going to be a day when she doesn't need to hold my finger any more, and that makes me wistfully sad. She won't always need me. But she does right now, and I have to be SO present for her.

Today I made macaroni and cheese for her lunch. She waited relatively patiently in her play yard while I "cooked" (seriously, it's just boiling water), and then she was so excited to see the bowl before her with her own little spoon in it.

She proceeded to eat by picking one shell at a time off the spoon and popping it into her mouth.

"This is going to take forever," I said aloud. I wished for my iPhone, for something to read, for a way to pass the time.

But unless I'm eating the same food as Ella, I'm not allowed to do anything while she is eating. She thinks I'm a mirror. Mommy's reading? I should, too.

So I watched her, and eventually she started taking more than one shell at a time, eventually she used her spoon and her fingers.

And eventually she started eating the cheese flavor off the noodles and then spitting them out.

Game over.

The kid is alright.

And so am I, as long as I don't have time on my hands to recruit historic thoughts and mull them over until they hurt.

They Should Tell You About Preschool

2011-08-12T22:00:00.000-07:00

They should tell you about preschool before you get pregnant. Or at least when you have your first doctor's appointment, the one where they confirm that yes, indeed, you are pregnant.

But by then it might be too late.

Too late to get into the right preschool.

The right one?

God only knows what that means.

More coming, after I do some homework.

Life's Lessons

2011-08-01T11:42:00.000-07:00

Ella has learned to walk. Actually, she's known how to walk for some time now (she first stood up on her own in mid-April, just before we moved; she got her first pair of shoes two weeks later).

But she's a cautious one.

After several weeks of feeling like my kid was "behind" and that it was somehow a reflection on my parenting style, I finally let go and accepted that Ella would walk when she was ready, that she would be ready when she'd be ready, and that her needing to ever so gently hold onto my finger was precious. I have Kelle Hampton to thank for that one.

And now she walks.

I love that my girl is cautious. I hope she is relatively cautious when she is 16 and driving a car.

I also hope that my cautiousness and her daddy's sense of fearlessness balance each other well. That she doesn't become too scared, or act too wild.

I love her sense of accomplishment; look at that smile!

I love that she claps at the end of a song, or when she gets the shape toys to fit properly in the sorter.

And as I wished before, she is brave--those first steps away from the security of holding onto something are always brave, no matter when they happen.

Nine Years

2011-07-24T22:07:00.000-07:00

Justin and I celebrated our nine year wedding anniversary on July 20. He came home from work, and I had dinner on the stove and a baby on my hip. He brought me flowers and champagne.

At first, Ella seemed captivated, but she was fooling no one. I want so badly for my girl to be brave and courageous, but she is cautious and a bit of a scaredy-cat.

I knew I had only a few seconds to get the photos taken with my iPhone and then I would have to scoop her back up.

Quiet Acceptance

2011-07-22T15:08:00.000-07:00

Ella woke up two nights ago shrieking so horribly that both Justin and I thought something terrible might be happening to her, so we went running to her room. (Which is on the other end of our U shaped house--picture us at one top serif and her at the other.) She was writhing in pain in cat pose, with her head down between her bent arms. Justin scooped her up, and she could barely open her eyes, so I turned the light back off and we examined her by the hall light. He even unzipped her pajamas to check her belly, but nothing was wrong. We guessed it must be her teeth and the Orajel had worn off, so gave her some Tylenol and after he held her til she calmed down he put her back to sleep. I had left the room because she was clearly confused by having both of us there; trying to decide who to cuddle with and how to stop crying. Not because Justin was the one to hold her, but because I felt so bad for her, I was choked up myself.

The next night he had to work til 2 a.m., so I was praying for peace. She woke up only once, and after only 45 minutes of sleep, so I was still awake. I comforted her for a bit and put her back to sleep, both of us quietly accepting that we were breaking the rules of sleep training.

This morning when she woke up there was blood on her pillow and at the crease of her lips.

It's her molars.

Well, molar. Three of them came in and we barely noticed, but this last one is defining "cutting teeth" for us.

My poor girl.

Despite all this, she is cheerful during the day. (Which I'm just telling you so that you don't worry too much about us.)

Just another Saturday....

2011-07-16T14:48:00.000-07:00

Ella has had a busy day--the Tot Lot where she was forced to play instead of nap:

Then reading her mail:

And browsing through our local weekly newspaper:

Of course she had to sort through the Trader Joe's bag full of clean socks that she likes to play with:

I don't know how her eyes get so big:

Housewifery

2011-07-15T15:26:00.000-07:00

I am officially not a good enough housewife. I like to do the laundry, but I hate to do the dishes. Which is a problem, because the dishes get dirty every day.

Justin's co-workers say things like, "It must be nice to come home and be able to just relax," but I kind of expect our old deal to stand. Justin did dishes and I did laundry.

But back then we both had jobs.

Now doing the dishes seems to be part of my job description.

Which means, I should wrap this up and get to work.

But first, let me show you what happens when the washing machine gets unbalanced every time I use it:

I suppose this means Justin is also helping with the laundry, by sitting on the machine to hold it down during the spin cycle.

I really need to step up my game.

Bath Time

2011-07-14T20:01:00.000-07:00

Ella loves bath time. When I give her a bath she splashes and I end up soaked, but for Justin she just plays with her duckies. It's a different kind of love, I suppose.

You can see in her mouth that a pre-molar has been in place for a while on her right, but her left one is just taking its own sweet time, leaving her gums so swollen that you can see the puffiness when she smiles. Still, she is in good spirits and Tylenol and Orajel at night seem to be doing the trick.

Independence Day 2

2011-07-05T14:21:00.000-07:00

For some reason I can't get the photos in chronological order (I'm too lazy to post them one at a time today). But here we are having our Fourth of July fun. This was Ella's second Independence Day, and I think she might have enjoyed it more than the first one, for which she mostly slept. However, she was pretty scared of the loud noises, which meant lots of cuddles for Mommy. Yay!
Ella shares vigorously. "Take the book! Please take the book!"

Here, she is wearing a belt of links that began as a very large necklace. Thanks, Victoria! :)

While we waited for the fireworks, she sat on Daddy's belly and went, "bububububa" with her hand against her mouth--one of her favorite tricks.

She didn't make the very few miles home drive awake...

There was a big military plane that did a very loud flyover... everyone laughed at me because I was more concerned with photographing her than rescuing her from the stroller so she could be consoled.

Justin was relaxing--deservedly so.

The lap of luxury.

The links necklace.

Part of the day was spent casually reading.

No festival is complete without a baby riding on Daddy's shoulders.

July 3

2011-07-04T12:01:00.000-07:00

When Ella wakes up from her naps she smiles when she sees us:

Today Ella had her first encounter with ocean water:


She checked out the waves like Daddy does.

The water comes in....


The water touches The Girl; she is brave(ish)

I just love my girl.

My girl will be an ocean girl, like her daddy. We will learn to surf together. Life is beautiful. But, it was chilly and windy a block from our house at the beach, so we retreated to the hot tub after just a few minutes at the seaside.

Now we know where she gets her crinkle nose smile.

Splashes! Like in the bathtub!

And what would a holiday weekend be without seven layer dip? She liked the beans and the guacamole. We definitely have a California girl on our hands.

Somehow, there are no pictures of her smiling and eating it, but she kept reaching out for more.

The End of an Era

2011-06-30T20:32:00.000-07:00

It's the end of the era. Justin is working his last shift as a resident.

No more will he be a student (except in the way that all doctors are always learning--and practicing medicine).

I really can't believe it. I'm so used to him being a student. I know residency is technically a job, I think, or technically a job as a student... but tomorrow when he goes to work he's going to WORK. For money! I know residents get paid... but they get paid like, well, teachers. Tomorrow when he goes to work he's really a doctor.

So tonight I'll get up at 1 a.m. or 2, when he gets home, to toast to the future. To say goodbye to the past. To know that he made it and that I was there with him.

We're 37 (well, I am, if you round up--he was as of the 25th), and we are finally going to stop living like college students.

We are renting a house.

We have a baby.

We have known each other nearly a decade, and next month will be our 9-year wedding anniversary.

I've watched Justin graduate from college, medical school and residency. I teased him about going to yet another hooray-for-Justin event, but really I am SO proud of him. So proud.

And thankful. I am blessed to live in Seal Beach with a baby I get to stay home to raise.

We have gone through really hard times to get here, financially, emotionally, even physically (after all, Justin had surgery on his foot and almost died from osteomylitis (a blood infection) in the first month of our marriage). But here we are.

I wish I could just enjoy it all. I wish there weren't this feeling that keeps coming back, but it's there. Maybe it's fading, but it's there.

In the meantime, I had a friend from high school who now lives in Texas come over to visit today during her trip to see her family. She brought her daughter, who is two months younger than Ella. We were trying to keep them relatively apart, because of that way babies have of reaching for each other's faces and accidentally poking each other in the eye (there was one head-butting incident, but no tears). But we could see that Ella was very slowly and gently reaching out for Addison, so we just let it go. Ella gave her a hug and a kiss! Addison didn't seem to mind and then they returned to parallel play, but there was definitely some interaction, some interest in the other kid and what she was doing. I wish they lived closer to us.

Three more hours and 11 minutes until Justin's shift is officially over... technically. TV? Sleep? It shall be revealed....

(This blog was written yesterday, but blogger was down, so it's posted later. Justin is at real work now...)

That's What She Said

2011-06-27T21:00:00.000-07:00

Today my therapist told me that one of her clients said the smartest thing she (the therapist) has ever told her was that it was OK to lie on the couch.

Someone recently asked me, "Doesn't she (the therapist) just tell you little things you can do [to manage your depression]?" She'd heard that's how it works now--that with mindfulness and cognitive behavioral therapy it wasn't "just talking" anymore.

So, the smartest "little thing" that the therapist told me today was that I should avoid conflict situations while I'm depressed.

She told me about recruitment--that sometimes when a person is depressed their depression recruits subjects on which to fixate. These subjects become The Problem That If Solved Would Make My Depression Go Away. Unfortunately, the depressed person is usually not in a good state of mind for problem solving, or dealing with other people's crap. So, it's a bad time to talk about the big things in life, especially with certain people.

This is not to say I would be opposed to a friend sharing a Big Thing In Their Life with me--it's just to say that Big Things In My Life need to be put in the freezer (not even just the back burner!) for a while. Until I get better. Which, my therapist says, will happen.

She reminded me of when I was so much worse, when I was in the Navy Medical Center, I think hoping that I would find it inspiring--I was SOOOOO in the pit and I climbed out of it. Funny thing is, when she mentioned the hospital I looked back fondly on those days. That's when you know things are off. When you think, "Ahhhhh, the hospital was such a calm and soothing place to be," instead of, "Ew, hospital food is gross, I'm glad I don't have to go back there again."

Clearly, I'm tired.

I didn't tell her that though, I just agreed that coming out of depression in the past can inspire hope that I will come out of depression again. It's true. I'm hopeful.

Justin's Birthday

2011-06-26T21:48:00.000-07:00


Who cares what's in the bag--it's just so fun taking the paper out of the bag together.

Ella was super tired after a long day of fun--including time with Grandma while Daddy and Mommy went to dinner with Brandon and Oakley for the boys' birthdays. She missed us.

New York gets it right

2011-06-24T19:43:00.000-07:00

Ella and I just watched the New York State Senate pass a same-sex marriage bill.

After the vote there was clapping throughout the chamber, so Ella started clapping, too. I laughed and started clapping, too.

"When you grow up, you'll be able to marry whoever you want," I told her.

My only question is should I have said whomever. I should have. So be it.

Shoulder Smiles

2011-06-08T13:04:00.000-07:00

Ella has this new way of smiling--it's the crinkle-nose smile combined with tilting her head to the side and scrunching up her shoulder to meet her ear. We have no idea where she learned it, but we are so so so in love.

This is her on the changing table. We used to call it the smiling table, then the laughing table. She's still good on it sometimes, but sometimes I call it the wrestling table. For her daddy she's typically good:

How it Should Be

2011-06-05T10:48:00.000-07:00

My husband is cleaning my shower.

My mom is babysitting my girl.

I went to a bridal shower tea and watched Bridesmaids yesterday.

Life is amazing.

It's more than I dare ask for. It's more than anyone deserves.

Yet my heart...

It's like when the grass at the park is beautiful and green and you just want to have a picnic and enjoy the sun, but the sprinklers go on. The grass is muddy. The picnic postponed.

My heart is heavy with mud.

Efff June Gloom

2011-06-01T10:56:00.000-07:00

THIS is not going to happen to me.

I am not going to miss June the way I feel like I missed May. (Mother's Day! Ella's first birthday!) OK, so I was sad for the former and present for the latter--though definitely feeling the anxiety creep in before the big shindig, but fighting it fighting it fighting it.

Trouble is, I don't always feel fierce. Yesterday I felt more lost than fierce. More down than up. More subdued than hued.

Still, Ella kissed me again yesterday. She makes a little "O" with her lips and then plants them on my face--this time somewhere below my nose and on my lip--and lingers for a moment. Justin was witness again. This time we kept our celebration subdued, so as not to frighten her out of repeating this new trick. He's just dying for his kiss, holding out his cheek and waiting. We have always kissed her constantly; it is no wonder she's picked it up in her repertoire of tricks.

When I was in San Diego, my psychiatrist asked me, "Are you able to feel joy with your daughter?"

"Yes."

"Are you lying?"

"I don't think so."

She looked away and thought out loud, "OK, you're more depressed..." she trailed off, but I finished with "than I thought" or "than anxious" in my head.

Now I've been watching myself, and I know. I feel joy sometimes. I LOVE it when she kisses me (twice in three days?), I am so grateful for her crinkle-nose smile, I adore the way she goes down so easily for a nap, or crawls to her crib when she's tired, or "walks" to her changing table when her diaper is full, or reaches for the bananas when she doesn't want the cereal. But that feeling I had when she nested the cups or stacked the blocks, it's not nearly as beautiful or full as it was a couple of weeks ago.

Maybe this is normal. Maybe parents aren't always enthralled with their child's every move. But I was SO happy a few weeks ago. I was so in love with the house and the beach and the air. And now I move through it all just wishing I felt joy in my heart, instead of weight and grayness.

It's kind of scary blogging about this. I don't want people to be afraid to be with me. I need the company of my friends--one of the best ways out of depression is to socialize instead of isolating oneself. So those comments on the blog, I appreciate them, and those plans we make, I look forward to them. But I also don't want people to contact me because they feel sorry for me. I don't need pity or pity-company.

In fact, let me tell you a little story. There once was this girl who called me every day and went out with me to eat or walk several times a week. I grew to believe we were great friends. She was, in fact, my best girl friend. She told me things about her own depression, her sister, her work.Then, she stopped calling when she had a baby, and I worried and did my best to be a good friend by calling her (She had fallen into postpartum depression. I didn't know she was depressed--she didn't talk to me at all; I just thought she was busy being a new mom with a husband whom she had told me was not very supportive or helpful.) and leaving her e-mails, and giving her a birthday gift. Then one day, we met with my therapist (whom I had mistakenly recommended to her--never ever have the same therapist as a friend) because I couldn't take the abandonment-without-reason anymore and she told me she never thought of me as a good friend. That she felt sorry for me and she felt like she had to spend time with me.We never spoke again.

What a bitch.

She wasn't a bitch for finally telling me how she really felt, she was a bitch for pretending for all those years that she cared.

So don't pretend or feel obligated to be my friend or support system.

I don't need you that much.

I have my husband and some friends I know are real. That's good enough.

I hate to end on that note.

So here's something funny. I'm not supposed to drink alcohol with my meds. Which is a real bummer because I LIKE the taste of good wine and good beer. I don't waste my time on cheap stuff, or big jugs of wine, or light beer; I don't drink it for the buzz. But I really enjoy savoring a glass or two at the end of the day, and now I can't. So I bought some Ben and Jerry's ice cream. As though I need to enjoy something vice-ish at the end of the day. There was half a pint left in my container (Justin got his own flavor) last night, and now it's gone. Yum!

I really should go for that walk today.

BTW, just because I can't drink doesn't mean I won't go out with someone who can. Just for the record. Having a baby to palm off on someone (grandma!?!?) is a bigger obstacle to happy hour than ordering a Diet Coke and an appetizer.

Also, I'm still fun to be around. If we hang out, I won't talk about being depressed unless you want to. I still laugh genuinely. I still smile. I'm still funny.

Memorial Day

2011-05-31T09:41:00.000-07:00

Memorial Day: a good day to stay in and think about sacrifice, or, you know, go to a BBQ.

Of course, we did both. I would have preferred to lie prone on the couch for the day. A girl can dream. (It's actually a good thing I can't do what I want to do--nothing--because I am not sure I would ever get started again.)

So, the BBQ. We met a cousin of my mom's--Lorna--and Rafael at my parents' house. My dad BBQed and my mom made the mashed potatoes, baked beans (from a can--is there any other way?), salad and corn.

Lorna gave Ella a present, which she actually opened herself.

Ella wasn't willing to keep the headband that matched the dress on for very long, but she did manage a big grin for a moment.

Lorna was a big hit--I'm sure in part because she is so nice, but also because she let Ella play with her glasses.

Rafael was also quite popular; he seems to love music and dancing. Brought in a Yo-Yo Ma CD and did some samba clapping with Ella. Plus, they played the drums with the cake box cover.

Turned out the cake box top also made a good hat. Though I brought a bag full of Ella's toys, the only thing that came out of it was a book that Lorna read to Ella.

And, just so you know, Ella and I wore very coordinated (but not matching! I haven't completely lost it!) dresses.

I am so freakin' tired

2011-05-29T14:00:00.000-07:00

This new medicine is saving me and slaying me at once.

It makes the restless legs and that "Oh my God, how am I going to get [nothing that important] done," feeling go away. It helps me sleep at night, but not so hard that I won't wake up when Ella needs me. It calms the nerves enough to keep me from crying, which isn't something I want to do all the time anyway.

The bummer is, it leaves me constantly feeling as though I have just woken up before I really wanted to.

Last time I took this stuff I got to take naps whenever I felt like it because I was a stay at home wife. Now, I get to play with toys while I lie on the floor and interact with my baby girl because I'm a stay at home mom.

I am so freakin' tired.

Keep on Keeping On

2011-05-28T11:19:00.000-07:00

I'm afraid if I stop I won't be able to start again. So, after a very short stint of lying on the couch and feeling lonely (everyone else is napping), I started dusting. Then I cleaned the inside of the windows. Then I wrote Ella's thank you cards (she'll do it herself in a few years...). Now I'm listening to her make her baby sounds as she wakes up and I'm wondering what's next....

Must. Keep. Moving.

Independence Day

2011-05-27T20:24:00.000-07:00

Ella came to insist on her independence this week--pretty much all on the same day.

Eating? She has to hold the spoon.

Combing her hair? She takes the comb, examines it and then swipes it down the side of her head (teeth facing her palm) a couple of times before I am allowed to quickly run it through her hair.

Brushing her teeth? She examines the bristles, moves them toward her mouth, lets me help her push the brush around on her teeth.

She might as well get her own apartment.

We've been doling out her birthday gifts slowly, so as not to overwhelm or bore her with so many new toys. Today she got the piano/xylophone. You can imagine the collective thrill ringing through the house.

Getting Through the Days

2011-05-26T11:30:00.000-07:00

I know this feeling.

I know having a task but only being half there to complete it, because my heart feels so heavy and my mind is so runny.

I've done lots of things this way.

Yes, I've taught this way.

But I never thought I'd play with my daughter this way.

Still, I'm pulling it off. I am full of energy. I am dancing. I am crawling after her. I am laughing with her--taking turns, I laugh, she laughs, I laugh. I'm doing the dishes. I'm making dinner. I'm picking up toys. I'm kissing her goodnight and putting her down for a nap.

I am breathing a lot of deep breaths.

If I didn't have this motivation, I would surely be lying down. Anywhere. The couch. The bed. Maybe even the floor.

I don't think people can tell. I went to the grocery store, I made small talk with the cashier. I didn't forget any of the things we needed, and I didn't even have a list. And I didn't buy a bunch of chocolate or chips in a doomed-to-fail attempt to make myself feel better.

I know I can do this. I know this will go away. I know I can't let this get any worse. I know I only have a certain amount of power over that last--I know it grows all by itself. It doesn't even have to be fed. But I'm squelching it with drugs and thoughts and everything I can think to use against it.

I am fierce.

But it's like ants when they invade the kitchen. You use the chemical stuff at the source, maybe just outside. And then, because you don't want the poison on your counter tops, it's Windex or cinnamon or baking soda. Does any of it work? And the next day they're somehow back.

Thank God my girl's favorite thing to do is smile her crinkle-nose smile.

Uh Oh

2011-05-24T15:26:00.000-07:00

I don't really want to post this, but I'm more afraid of not posting it.

I'm depressed.

Most people say that and they just mean they're having a bad day or maybe two.

But when a person with depression says it...

I should have realized it when I stopped blogging. Nothing to say, despite my first Mother's Day and Ella's first birthday. Really?

That's right. In the midst of all this joy, on the brink of what is essentially our dream life together, I started "cycling downward," as my doctor said.

I haven't cycled in more than 1 year and nine months--really in more than two years. Not since way before we found out I was pregnant with Ella. I made it through my entire pregnancy, and the year-allotted-for-post-partum-depression without ever feeling depressed. Sure there were some sad days--days when I got bad news, days when I learned people were sick or dying or dead, but there wasn't this feeling.

What is the feeling, you ask?

Sometimes it's like walking wearing clothes that have been drenched by a down pour. That heavy, awkward, difficult to move feeling. Sometimes I just want to lie in my bed. Sometimes it's more like I'm running as fast as I can, being chased, in a race... Wondering where the finish line is, when it will be over. Sometimes it's my legs feeling restless, as though I need to pace or walk and walk and walk without ever stopping. Trouble is, that comes at night when I'm supposed to be falling asleep. In the morning, when I used to walk with Ella, we're sleeping, eating breakfast, staying in our pajamas til noon.

Don't say it.

I know I have nothing to be depressed about. Our money problems will be solved when Justin starts working in July. The stress he is under finishing his residency will end with the end of June. I live in a beautiful house. I have a beautiful, healthy child. I live in the town we wanted to live in... I could go on.

That's what makes depression a disease. It sneaks in when you're least expecting it, starts as a little kernel and then metastasizes into parts of your life you thought were untouchable by depression.

I can't be depressed and have this beautiful child at the same time, can I?

No.

So, Monday, it was back to San Diego to see my therapist and my psychiatrist. These women are geniuses, the ones who got me onto the right combination of meds and cognitive behavioral therapy and mindfulness and kept me stable for so long and saw me through the darkest time.

A little addition to the daily medicinal regime and the wrinkle should be smoothed out soon.

In the meantime, I am thankful for the friend who coincidentally called to chat. She pulled me out of my isolation (I was not even reading blogs, or calling friends or doing anything unnecessary). I'm grateful for my husband who doesn't tell me I have nothing to be depressed about, but hugs me and knows that sometimes I'll have a bad patch but that we'll get through it. I'm grateful for what I have. I'm grateful for the sunny day.

And look at this girl. How can I not smile? She KISSED me this morning. Justin got her out of her crib and changed her diaper when she woke up. I came in with a bottle and waited for them to be ready. He was holding her, when she leaned forward with her rosebud mouth, her tongue sticking out a little and landed on my cheek. It was gross and sloppy and amazing. Justin and I were so thrilled that we celebrated with cheers and congratulations and laughter--and she almost cried because of the commotion.

"Ella"

2011-05-07T14:32:00.000-07:00

Today, Ella and her Aunt Hilary and I were out for a walk. Hil was pushing the stroller and we were at a lull in our chat when I heard, "Ella." In a soft baby voice.

I turned around to face them, "Hilary, did you just say, 'Ella?'"

"No, I thought that was you."

"She just said, 'Ella,' didn't she? Say, 'Ella.' Ella!"

Of course she won't do it on command, but I'm so glad there was a witness.

Her first word was Mama (yes, my heart is full!), then Dada, then hi, then "Geor'" (for George, her favorite stuffed animal monkey), then Ella. All learned within a month.

I love my little girl. Every day is brings a new surprise. (I know I'm sounding sappy now, oh well.)

Baby Got a New Pair of Shoes!

2011-04-25T19:51:00.000-07:00

They're actually her first pair of shoes, and she wasn't quite sure what to make of them at first. Then, after chewing the toes (while wearing the shoes) and examining the soles she forgot about them and went back to standing up so that she could reach the remote control. Since she was wearing the shoes, I let her play with it for a minute as a reward.

Daddy Time

2011-04-22T20:20:00.000-07:00

Ella LOVES her daddy. Here, she's working on walking toward him. I love the trust in her eyes, the focus she has on his face.

And then there's a round of applause:

A Laundry Assistant

2011-04-17T20:21:00.000-07:00

Ella likes to help me do the laundry. She's a sorter. The only problem is, everything she picks up, she throws behind her. She also doesn't know that the stuff that's already folded doesn't need to be sorted.

A churchy little town

2011-04-15T21:19:00.000-07:00

It's a churchy little town we live in.

The first morning we woke up here, there was a flier on our door about HOPE (it was all caps). Then it said there would be "great singing, outstanding music, a message of Hope from Matthew 28:1-10--Jesus’ Resurrection - Why It Really Matters."

Justin read it out loud and said, "They put that last?"

I laughed. "Justin, sometimes you're just spot on."

We won't be going to that church.

Then, last night, missionaries from the Church of Jesus Christ of the Latter Day Saints came by looking, by name, for the teenage girl who used to live here. When I told the young man that she had moved, he told me he was here to share the message of hope... did I want to learn more about... I told him "Thank you, but I'm Christian. I don't believe in... I'm Lutheran."

He asked me if I knew anyone in the area that needed service, "We do service projects. We paint houses..."

"No, thank you. We don't need anything; I don't know, we're just renters," I stumbled, glancing at Ella, who was sitting in her play yard watching skeptically. "Thanks, though."

They left.

Then today, there was a pamphlet from the Kingdom Hall of Jehovah's Witnesses in Westminster (a couple of towns over). JESUS "TAKES AWAY the SIN of the WORLD." It reads. "How does he do so? Why is this necessary? How can you benefit?" Then it says, "Each year, Jehovah's Witnesses gather to commemorate Juesus' death on its anniversary. This year, the anniversary falls on Sunday, April 17, after sundown."

So now I'm confused. Palm Sunday is April 17. Maundy Thursday is April 21. Good Friday is April 22. Easter is April 24.

Good Friday is April 22, but "the anniversary" is April 17?

There's a banner on Main Street (it really is called that) advertising a Sunrise Service at 7 a.m. on the beach sponsored by the United Methodist Church. Ella and I might go to that. The three of us will all go to the 10:30 service at Our Savior's Lutheran Church.

Ella is OK with the House

2011-04-13T20:52:00.000-07:00

Maybe it's because I stopped calling it the Scary House and started calling it the Palace of Joy, but Ella is growing comfortable in her new home.

She's sleeping right now, hopefully for the night. Justin is at work. I am sitting on the couch and I cannot see my entire home from here, like I could before, when we lived in the apartment.

However, I could see it all if it were daytime--there are that many windows.

The house, as I've mentioned before, is J-shaped. Backward J-shaped. The inside of the J is all windows, so from the kitchen (the tip of the short end of the J) I can see through the courtyard to Ella's bedroom (in the top of the long end of the J).

I'll post pictures soon. Right now it's all boxes and mess, and my camera is in a cupboard for safekeeping.

And for her final trick...

2011-04-11T16:43:00.000-07:00

Ella couldn't move out of the apartment without reaching one last milestone.

Justin put her in her crib for a moment and left the room. When he returned she was standing, gripping the rail.

Earlier, I had caught her in the attempt and captured it on film. He managed to capture the final event; it's a good thing I leave my camera lying around for people to use.


She starts out innocently enough.

But you can tell she's got plans.


		She's on her way.

"I think I can..."


And there she is Our life as we knew it is over. Again.

10,000 knives when all you need is a fork....

2011-04-10T23:43:00.000-07:00

We're moving.

I packed all the cutlery, all the cookware, all the dishes, all the knives.

I figured we'd use the plastic stuff until we unpacked in two days.

Then, I opened our Costco-box of plasticware and found two BAGS of knives, two spoons and a fork.

Tonight is Ella's last night in this apartment we call home. It's her last night sleeping in Redondo Beach because tomorrow night she will stay with Grandma, since we're taking the crib apart for the movers who are coming on Tuesday morning.

I am so looking forward to living in a house. I finished the shelf-papering today and put everything away so that the movers will have easy access to the spaces they will fill with our worldly goods. It is so much space. And, bonus, it is still just two blocks from the ocean. We're still on the west side of PCH. We'll be walking distance from coffee shops, grocery stores, bars and the library, just like we wanted. There's really nothing to miss here.

But I still feel sentimental.

This move marks the end of us living like starving college students. Justin and I have known each other for almost ten years. (We met on June 16, 2001, but that's another story.) For our almost nine-year marriage we have been living in apartments, with usually one income, and mostly just the two of us.

Then we had Ella.

In two days, we move into a house with a backyard and a (treadmill) pool and hot tub. In just over two months, Justin starts working as a doctor, an attending, not a resident, not a student but a genuine practitioner of medicine. We'll be able to grocery shop at a store, instead of the Commissary (cheaper food, less selection, no customer service, baggers who work for tips-only). We will be able to buy replacement socks when ours get holes. Ella can have (almost) anything she wants. Anything she needs. I won't have to keep explaining to people that Justin is a doctor, but he's a resident which means he doesn't get paid like a doctor--more like a teacher.

Yet, I wax sentimental.

I've been thinking a lot about our move from our Mira Mesa house (we did once rent a house--when I was working as a teacher, and he was a medical student) to Hillcrest.

I had asked Justin to hide the knives.

You see, when we moved from that house, we were moving from the house that had space for a baby's room to a small two-bedroom apartment, where Justin would have an office in which to study his third-year medical school information. We were moving from the house where we lived when I had my miscarriage. We were moving at a time when I was on disability because of my postpartum depression turned major depressive disorder.

I remember two things.

We were going to have a garage sale on the weekend, but during my outpatient Cognitive Behavioral Therapy group session I had talked (again) about suicide and they decided I should go inpatient for a while.

"But we're having a garage sale this weekend."

"That sounds like a stressful situation."

"But we're moving and I have to help with the packing."

And so it went.

Justin held the garage sale on his own; I hear a friend helped him. He had just taken a final, and one of his friends drove with him to the hospital so they could take my car home.

It was almost Easter.

I believe in the resurrection of the dead, and the life everlasting.

I remember being in the new apartment after our friends helped us move in--we were still U-Haul-ers then. Justin had to leave for something. He asked me if I would be OK. I said yes, I would be fine. I intended to stay on the couch and watch Netflix episodes of Law and Order: Criminal Intent while he was gone. But could he please hide the knives.

He did. I remember I built a little barricade to the kitchen, so that not only were the knives hidden, but also I would have to really think about it and try hard to get to them and accidentally use one to cut myself.

Crazy, isn't it?

Now, here I am, writing in the middle of the night while my baby sleeps in the next room. Moving from our tiny Redondo Beach apartment to a house in Seal Beach with a laundry room and an office and a room for my little girl.

It feels like it's all coming together and I am so in awe of it all.

I hardly know what to say, but, "Thank you."

Ella Hates the House

2011-04-08T20:49:00.000-07:00

...at least as much as she hated the pumpkin patch.

Ella cried every time we put her down near a pumpkin. We think maybe it was because the hay was itchy?


Ella cried every time we put her down any where in the house. We think maybe it was because it's new to her?

It could also be the road work they are doing right outside our door. There are diggers and tractors rolling around, and men yelling over the din. She also hates the vacuum cleaner, and Justin was vacuuming today. He thought maybe holding her while he did it would help, but she ended up quaking in his arms. It didn't help that one of the attachments fell off and as he replaced it he sucked up some of her hair.

I can handle it when she's crying and there is no good reason for it, that I can detect, at least. I can basically handle it. But seeing her terrified was torturing me. I had to sit with her and her toys (including George! her comforting stuffed animal/blanket monkey!) in the new play yard. When I tried to escape the cage so I could lay some shelf paper, she wailed.

We ended up driving her over to my mom's house so she could hang out with her grandma and we could get some work done around the house.

More pictures soon--I just had my cell phone with me today.

Incidentally, she wore the same jeans today that she wore to the pumpkin patch--she was five months old then and is almost 11 months old today... they are size six months.

Parenting in non-parallel time

2011-04-06T22:35:00.000-07:00

The trouble with being an ER doctor's wife is that our lives do not operate in parallel time.

I'm sitting on the couch waiting for him to wake up at 11 p.m. so I can go to sleep after talking to Justin about buying a BOB for $200 from some lady in Irvine. (Here are the pictures she sent me:)

I could go to sleep now, but if I wait one more hour I will actually sleep, rather than tossing and turning while I watch the clock, afraid I will fall asleep and miss my chance to have a conversation.

I imagine that a wife of a partner with a normal work schedule would have had this conversation before 8:27 p.m.--the moment in which I sent an e-mail to the Craigslist seller of the BOB Revolution Stroller Strides Stroller saying I wanted to buy her stroller.

Instead, I have been making parenting decisions via facebook for most of the night.

It's how I get by, when Justin is working or sleeping and I need to get through an experience as the only adult in the room--especially when it is too late to call my mom.

Take for instance, sleep training.

Ella used to like falling asleep lying swaddled on a pillow next to me. When she finally fell asleep, I would carefully carry her to her crib, praying that I could lower her to the mattress without waking her.

One night, she was fussing next to me and it was getting later and later, and I was desperately tired.

I realized that I could either let her fuss, finally fall asleep, wake up on the way to the crib, and then start all over again, or I could start sleep training.

I took a deep breath and chose to sleep train.

Knowing that the key to sleep training is the ability for the child to comfort herself, I also had to teach her to sleep unswaddled.

So, for the first time in our lives, I put her down in just her pajamas with her pacifier and nothing else in the crib, told her I loved her and left the room.

The crying began.

On the other side of her door, which means in our living room, I began pacing. Then I turned to my facebook account. My friends-who-have-been-there saved me from myself. (I wish I could go back on facebook and find the posts.) They told me it was hard for them, too, the first night. They told me that it was the only way to go. They told me they weren't "in that camp", but that they wished me luck. They told me my doctor was right--that I had to let her cry. They told me they would find a different doctor. A friend whose kids I know feel secure and loved and safe told me she did it and that helped me to know that I could do it, too.

Ella fell asleep after almost an hour of crying. (Later, friends told me I got off lucky.)

As my friend with the happy kids told me, it took three nights and she has slept well ever since--except when she had a cold and when she was teething. I'm afraid I'll jinx it, blogging about it so late at night, but she sleeps through the night! And she still loves me.

So tonight, when I needed to ask someone if $200 was a good buy for a BOB, I turned to facebook.

I gained encouragement, a reminder that it is a lot of money for a stroller and a reminder that it is a good deal. (They sell for $439 + tax new.)

So now, I feel more sure of my decision to make the purchase; I just want to talk to my husband about it first.

Packing

2011-04-05T11:23:00.000-07:00

I've reached the point in packing where I keep sitting down on the couch, staring at things and wondering what to do next.

We've estimated that we have about 15 hours, so probably 30, left of packing to do.

This would be a reasonable estimation, if Justin weren't working nights and sleeping during the day for the next 4 of 6 days left until we move. And if I didn't have a baby in the apartment.

Instead, I keep retreating to the couch. "Aaaaaaahhhhhh!"

It's also a problem that everything I look at might be useful in the next few days. Do we need the plates? The bowls? How about the pots and pans? What will we eat?

Ella can't go without her toys.

Justin is sleeping in the room with the clothes.

I don't have a place to lay the paintings once I wrap them in blankets that doesn't invite the baby to throw herself down on the blanket to cuddle.

But it's really going to be OK. It gets done. Somehow.

There's also stuff to do at the new house.

We're going to be surrounded by storage space, which is hugely exciting, given that we've been living with boxes piled in our living room and covered with a pretty blue sarong for 3 years.

But I'm obsessed with shelf paper.

Probably 15 hours of shelf papering to do.

"Justin, I don't know how people move without their lease overlapping. You know, like be out by April 30th and in on May 1st."

"They probably just throw it all together."

"That seems chaotic to me."

"They probably think our way of doing it is more chaotic."

"They're probably right."

But I want everything in our new house to be just right, so that we don't have the kind of mess we have here. I know there will be a certain amount of disarray--after all, a one-year-old will be living with us, but at least we can start off right.

All that said, I should probably do something around here. Maybe pack up the paintings and put them in the car overnight so we can move them tomorrow?

2011-04-04T03:38:00.000-07:00

Can't sleep.

Thought checking my social networks would help.

Learned that a friend of a friend who is a friend of mine is going into hospice care... cancer.

I know what hospice care is like--we did it with Justin's mom.

Speechless.

Prayerful.

(I was going to erase prayerful, because it sounds impossible if I'm speechless. But then I realized God knows the prayer that is in our hearts.)

Giggling on the Swings

2011-04-03T15:39:00.000-07:00

No more tears--Ella now giggles on the swings.

One Really Big Church

2011-04-03T15:28:00.000-07:00

I am loving that this blog is inviting spiritually-based conversation from all over North America. (Comments have been on my facebook page, from San Diego, Orange County, Colorado and Toronto, so far.) It reminds me that church is not just a building--there is a universal church, one that unites all of God's people. My friends are helping me through this spiritual journey, even from afar.

First, I have to say that I do know that our God is a loving God. I know he will not seek revenge, especially not for a measly broken Lenten promise.

One dear friend pointed out that my "Lenten promise is one way to show God [I] love him. But if [I] choose to bag it - [I] will find another way. And God loves [me] the same, no matter what [I] do--Grace by Faith and all that good stuff..."

I definitely have faith in God. And I have faith in God being a loving God--"For God so loved the world that he gave his only begotten Son." (John 3:16)

That gift brought us past that Old Testament God from whom people feared revenge to a God of love and grace--the free gift of love from God.

We don't have to work for it.

That said, being reminded that my Lenten promise is a way for me to show God that I love him renews my desire to fulfill that promise.

How hard really, will it be to abstain from drinking for about 20 more days? So I don't drink during girls night or a celebration dinner or happy hour or moving. Big deal--I'll have God's love to strengthen me in my resolve, right?

Because after all, when someone does something that shows you how much they love you, aren't you inspired to return the display of affection?

Easter is coming. Resurrection Sunday. The day Christ rises from the grave, proving once and for all that He is our God, and that He loves us.

This isn't Christmas for little kids--in and around a month before it happens, hoping that good behavior will earn them the gifts they so richly desire.

This is Easter. This is God's love. This is a free gift of love. This is for everyone.

So, my really big church, thanks for being God's little messengers, reminding me that Jesus loves me and that there is no way I could possibly earn that amazing love.

In other news, kind of related, Ella and I went to church today. Justin and I found a wonderful Lutheran Church just about 15 minutes from where we are going to live, called Our Saviour's Lutheran Church. He's working today, and I woke up early and inspired, so I got the little girl ready and we were off in time (almost) for a 10:30 service.

It was awesome.

I love the Lutheran liturgy, which includes corporate confession and forgiveness, hymns, readings, prayers, sermon, offering, and Communion.

I haven't been bothering going to church alone with Ella because I hadn't thought I could get much out of it with her squirming in my lap the whole time (it's right during her nap time). But she was a little doll, and I was able to enjoy the hymns (and even sing along) and Communion. She didn't even bat at the tiny wine glass (those little plastic glasses... not my favorite way to commune (I prefer the community of intinction in the shared chalice), but acceptable).

University Lutheran Church friends, you'll appreciate this--they are doing Holden Evening Prayer for Wednesday evening Lent services! There are only two Wednesday's in Lent left, and both conflict with Justin's work schedule, and I'm not sure I'm ambitious enough to drive in traffic to take her somewhere at her bedtime, but... who knows. Wednesday night might find us in Long Beach at church.

April Fool

2011-04-02T11:59:00.000-07:00

If I believed that God paid attention to these types of details, or if I truly believed in karma, I might think that the culmination of yesterday afternoon and evening was a result of our Lenten lapse.

But I'm pretty sure it was just something that happened.

Justin called just after 4 p.m. on a high from getting off work in the Pediatric ER early, since it was blessedly slow. I'm always so happy for the world when he has a slow day at work, because it means people didn't need emergency medical attention, not just that he gets to come home early, or maybe check his e-mail at work.

Unfortunately, I had forgotten our conversation about the possibility that he would come home early, so I was in Seal Beach instead of Redondo.

We decided he would come south to meet us, and then we would have a dinner date while my mom watched Ella.

Then he got a flat tire when he reached Long Beach.

Being a manly man, he changed the tire himself instead of calling AAA. (I am a girly-girl and would have called for help.)

The spare was also flat.

AAA to the rescue.

But, their "emergency" service would take 45 minutes to arrive, and Discount Tire closes at 6 p.m.

So, we had to come up with a plan by which we could get the tire repaired and he could still work for the next three days in a row.

Thus, he drove to my parents house, we switched cars, and I spent the night here in Huntington Beach so that I could take the car to the shop today.

All in all, a nuisance but not severely bad enough to be revenge for drinking during Lent despite our vow to abstain from alcohol.

So, at dinner, he had a beer and I had a martini.

We are going to burn in hell. Right?

Apparently, chucking our Lenten promise, isn't in the spirit of Lent, but neither was giving in on Thursday night.

So, I'm back at the conundrum of what to do.

I'm thinking we could give something else up, or just drink in a lot more moderation than we were pre-Lent, or go back to not drinking, or...

I'm not sure God really cares.

My understanding of Lenten sacrifices is to do something difficult so that when you face the challenge you must turn to God for strength.

Am I right?

And then, God helps you through the trial. It's representative of Jesus's 40 days in the desert, right?

So, if I continue to think about God, but sometimes decide that a drink would be OK, is that insufficiently pious?

Probably.

It's a work in progress, my spiritual life.

And on the 22nd Day...

2011-03-31T21:31:00.000-07:00

we had a beer.

Justin and I gave up drinking alcohol for Lent.

We made it from Ash Wednesday, March 9, to March 31, and then we failed.

Justin was invited over to our friend Nick's house to have a beer after working at the hospital. Since we're moving out of the neighborhood, we're trying to get in one last round of good times with all of our friends. Which makes having given up alcohol a real bummer.

Other things that make it a bummer: hot weather, moving, March Madness (because Justin enjoys it, because it helps me get through it), happy hour with the girls, wanting a glass of wine while I cook an Italian dinner, wanting a beer when it's been a long day.

So what happens when you--not accidentally--break your Lenten promise?

Justin and I aren't sure. We're Lutheran.

We believe in a forgiving God.

That said, God being forgiving doesn't mean you can go around screwing up on purpose and then expecting to be forgiven.

As a general rule.

I mean, you're supposed to work on being a living example of Christ's love all the time, in response to God's perfect love. It's a work in progress; He is perfect, you are not.

So here we are. Justin is still at Nick's, I had a beer too (so that he wouldn't be smote alone--wasn't that big of me) and I'm trying to blog my way into clarity about this issue.

As far as I can remember, this is the first time in my life that I have given up something tangible for Lent. Usually I go with something more spiritual/emotional. I have given up expecting myself to be perfect, I have given up worrying about (or was it commenting on?) my body, I have taken on being patient with myself, I have taken on... I can't remember what, but things like that; things that are important to change anyway. I've probably failed at those Lenten promises, too, but it's harder to tell.

I'm really not sure what to make of having cheated on our Lenten promise. It would be one thing if we just forgot about it, if it were an accident, but we made the conscious decision to have a drink.

So what do we do now? Do we go back to abstaining from alcohol for the next 23 days? Or do we just chuck the whole thing and hope for better next year?

Bikini Weather is Coming

2011-03-30T21:20:00.000-07:00

Could somebody please tell me what to do about the fact that bikini weather is coming?

Today, Justin and I went walking on the Seal Beach pier while eating Coldstone's ice cream and people-watching. There were people in bikinis. Young girls, lying on their backs with their flat bellies to the sky, boys with their T-shirts off, resting next to them.

While I was pregnant I wore maternity T-shirts, so now I have a spectacular farmer's-tan AND...

OK. I know I said I wouldn't go around dwelling on my body and its sizable flaws anymore, but I just have to get some answers here.

Not only do I have a farmer's tan, I also have a fat stomach. Like I've been pregnant or something.

I read somewhere about a woman envying the spirit of another woman--a mother who was happily playing with her son in the waves at the beach, wearing a bikini despite, well, despite not having the perfect body.

So what I want is to be that carefree woman, the one playing in the ocean despite being overweight.

I don't want to be that girl who wears shorts and a T-shirt over her swimsuit and never takes them off.

Last summer, I just avoided the beach (despite living two blocks away). It was easy enough to do with a newborn--she wasn't ready for it, was my excuse.

This summer, we are moving to Seal Beach and it is my GOAL to get out there and have fun.

Doing that, I realize, could play a part in helping me lose weight--you know, physical activity and all.

But I don't want anyone to see my belly. Or really my legs. Or my butt. I feel like I'm a woman of a certain age and I just shouldn't be prancing around in skimpy clothes anymore. But we're talking about BEACH ATTIRE here, for goodness sake.

What's a girl to do?

Last summer, I bought a black one piece, but it makes me feel like such a fuddy-duddy (not a word?). It makes me feel like an old lady. Last summer, I tried on my bikinis and felt ridiculous just standing in my own bedroom. Maybe new, larger swimwear is the solution. After all, if I don't fit into size zero jeans, I certainly won't fit into a size small bikini, right?

It's just that when I was 31, I was going through my closet and came across my form-fitting high school prom dress. For kicks, I tried it on. IT FIT. I was in my 30s and wearing my high school prom dress. It fit.

Now, at 36, I love my life, but I have to somehow learn to love living in my bigger body. Or at least get used to it.

So, someone, please tell me, what on earth should I wear?

A) a bikini. FTW
B) a one piece, have some decency
C) a swimsuit of any sort, as long as I keep my shorts and tanktop on--nobody wants to see that fat
D) other--explain

Rules

2011-03-29T19:04:00.000-07:00

Rule #1: Don't bounce the kid on your knee after feeding her, even if it does make her giggle.

If you do, you end up getting this face:

(Leave it to me to make a time-out in the Exersaucer into a photo shoot after I cleaned up...)

Babies and Grown Ups don't always mix

2011-03-29T15:09:00.000-07:00

I'm sad to write this post, but I've noticed something about the mixture of friends and babies, and I think maybe if I write about it I can sort it out in my head. Or your comments will help me along.

When I had my miscarriage and got really deep into not-fair-without-a-baby-postpartum-depression afterward, I had a hard time being around people who had babies.

Jealousy bubbled in my throat.

They showed their photos of kids, and I felt like they were jumping up and down after having won the first place trophy, while I didn't even place.

Even with strangers, especially with strangers, I had a hard time watching other people with babies. I remember a mom walking into Starbucks with a brood of kids--seriously, several of them following behind her while she could barely cradle her baby--and I thought, I could take one of those and she wouldn't even notice.

I was seriously off my rocker.

So, I'm trying to keep that lonely, jealous, angry feeling in my mind while I watch friends without babies slip away.

It's hard, though.

I know not to take it personally, a new blogging friend who lost a baby reminded me of that. But I do so miss the people I used to know before we had Ella and they faced loss of their own. One friend says she can stand to be around me and Ella because she knows I can understand her pain, since I had the miscarriage and the depression. I am so grateful for her. Another is busy now, every time our group of friends sets up a girls night.

The thing is, I understand that friend not wanting to talk about Ella or be around her. I am willing to talk about other things--I like to think there is more to me than motherhood alone. But I also understand that my station in life as a mother is never going to fade as part of my identity. Maybe I can't be taken as Olaina-alone, maybe I'll always be Olaina-somebody's-mom. When I think about it, I love that about my life.

Maybe I've written myself through this conundrum--I love my old friends, I miss them, but I have to let them go because I love them and, sadly, that is what they need from me.

I must say, though, that I wish we could communicate with each other about this situation. It's sad to just have to come to this realization alone, to just let the relationship fizzle. I'd much rather be told, "You know, Olaina, I love you, but I can't be around you now because I'm too sad about the baby." Somehow, knowing for sure what went wrong would make it easier.

There are also friends who have chosen not to have children yet, whom I miss. It's maybe harder for me to understand them, though when I try to sit through a meal while constantly picking up Ella's toys from the floor and handing them back to her, I can see why maybe they don't want to be bothered with Olaina-somebody's-mom.

For those friends, would it be fair to say it's their loss?

Maybe, maybe not.

It's my loss, too.

Of course, despite these losses, there are gains. Especially with moving in our near future (two weeks!), I know we will make more friends with people who have children. It will happen because I will join moms' clubs and that is how we will meet people.

I suppose it's a stage of life, this transition in relationships. Maybe it's like college, where some of the high school friends drop away because of distance and different interests, but some of them stay even while you gain new friends in your new experience.

I thought those transitions were over, but I think I was wrong.

I am Not a Cook

2011-03-28T21:42:00.000-07:00

I wish that were a surreal statement; that I really were a cook, wearing an apron that says, "I am not a cook."

But it's not.

It's true.

I am not a cook.

Unfortunately for Justin, my attempts at cooking are at their worst when I am hoping to impress him with my culinary skills. Or, to at least serve him a good meal after a hard day at work.

Two weeks ago I made the most God-awful chicken curry and dahl. I usually don't suck at making chicken curry, but this time I thought I'd double the spices since I was making a lot (just to use up the four chicken breasts--forgetting that one chicken breast is now big enough to feed two people) and since I kept hearing my friend's voice in my head saying, "Don't be afraid to use the spices. We're not afraid of spices around here."

Justin LOVES spicy food, so of course double up on the spices, right?

The dahl was spicy.

The chicken curry was garlicky.

Now, I know how this happened. I used a new garamasala for the dahl--the one my mom had given me because it was unusually spicy and she couldn't eat anything made with it. I used way too much garlic powder in the chicken curry.

I believe it is all a result of trying to follow my dad's recipe. Whenever Dad made good chicken curry and I asked for the recipe, he would say it was a secret.

Last time I asked him for a recipe, he e-mailed me one. The curry didn't come out looking or tasting like his chicken curry, so I told him that. He said, "Did you use enough tumeric? Tumeric is the key to all Indian recipes!"

"You didn't put tumeric in the recipe!"

Now I know it's just that he doesn't really use a recipe. He always tells me he cooks by color--and Indian spices are so colorful... well, I don't imagine he's very precise about it.

I took this picture of a shop when my family went to India a few years ago.
Just look at those beautiful mounds of spices!

So, when I called and asked how to make chicken curry, I got an answer that involved a tablespoon of a lot of spices and two tablespoons of some other spices. He has no idea... he just eyeballs it. Knowing that, I eyeballed my heaping tablespoons and tossed a little more in for good measure.

Bad idea.

Today, however, I had a hankering for salmon and Justin is working a swing shift, which means he ate dinner at the hospital and will come home after midnight.

I made salmon with asparagus on a bed of angel hair with goat cheese.

Magnificent!

And all he'll get is leftovers.

Daddy's Home!

2011-03-27T15:12:00.000-07:00

Ella is never happier than when both of her parents are at home (and paying attention to her). She looks back and forth from me to Justin and back again. Smiling.

Like any little girl, she loves to ride on Daddy's shoulders.

Ella is staking out her claim on a box for the move. This small one would do, but it's already full of books.

The Photo Shoot

2011-03-26T20:34:00.000-07:00

Today I took pictures at the beach of a beautiful little family that is moving back to the South to be closer to their families. If we weren't all moving away, I'm sure we would stay good friends, but as things are we seem destined to being facebook friends. Alex is only one month older than Ella.

When Daddy's Sleeping

2011-03-25T14:21:00.000-07:00

When Justin works nights and sleeps all day, I am left to my own devices to keep Ella quiet.

Ella is almost one year old. Quiet is not one of her goals in life.

Getting down the hallway to The Door Daddy is Behind is.

Today I resorted to an in-home photo shoot while she played with her Alphabet Cards.

Here are some of my favorites--I'm working on playing with light, so that explains... that.

Feeding Ella 2.0

2011-03-24T16:15:00.000-07:00

The scariest parts of my day happen when Ella is eating finger food.

I don't know if other babies are as bad at it as she is, but she sucks at it.

Literally.

We feed her these little cereal-like things called puffs. They're supposed to dissolve easily in her mouth, but she nibbles a little gerbil-bite first. Then she puts the whole puff in her mouth and sometimes pushes it out with her tongue.

All of this I can handle.

It's when she gags that I start to worry.

There are Hershey's Kiss-sized freeze dried yogurt melts that are also designed to dissolve in a baby's mouth. Ella does her nibble first, then her rejection bit, and then sometimes (instead of waving her hand around with it stuck to her fingers) sucks on it. I rejoice--she's eating! she's eating! And then she puts her fingers in her mouth, and sometimes, and now I realize these are the lucky times, the addition of fingers in the mouth equals the subtraction of food in the mouth. But sometimes it means she shoves the food far back enough on her tongue to gag herself.

Once, a couple of nights ago, when Justin was at work in the ER, she choked so badly that she ended up making herself throw up--thankfully expelling the yogurt melt from the back of her throat.

It's more stress that I thought it would ever be to feed a baby.

The first time she gagged it was on a rice husk (Baby Mum-Mum) piece. She had eaten most of the Almond Joy-but-flat sized Mum-Mum without incident. Then, while I wasn't looking, she popped in the remaining bit--about the size of a Tootsie Roll-but-flat. She sat there looking at me with big eyes while her mouth worked wide open tongue thrusts. Luckily, I was able to snag the bit with my finger.

All that may be more information than some of you are looking for, but the long and short of it is that three times a day I am reminded of how precious my moments with Ella are, as I watch her eat and hope and pray that nothing bad will happen.

What I need to do is take an infant CPR and First-Aid class. That way I will at least feel a bit empowered, instead of helpless and fearful.

I wonder if all moms feel this nervous about feeding their child? I try really hard not to show it; I just sit and watch and encourage her when things are going well. The last thing I want is for her to have a complex about eating or to be fearful of simple tasks.

Don't even get me started on sippy cups...

Having another baby

2011-03-22T21:53:00.000-07:00

Today someone asked me, "So are you two going to have any more kids?"

No matter how close of a family member you are, that's a little invasive, don't you think?

Yet, it's a question that strangers often ask parents.

Somehow, some things are softer coming from strangers. Maybe it's because the answer doesn't really matter to them, whereas from a family member it's as though they've asked whether you're going to give them any more gifts or not.

Since you asked, No, we're not planning on having any more kids.

For one thing, Ella is our miracle baby and we dare not ask for more. It was five years from our miscarriage to her birth, and a year or so before that--so sixish years of hoping and a lifetime of dreaming--before she was born.

At 36, we don't have that kind of time to make another baby.

For another thing, I don't think we necessarily want another baby. Sure, I always thought I'd have two kids, but having Ella feels like enough to me. I've heard it said that people know when their family is complete. I feel like my family is complete, just the three of us.

And, Ella is only 10 months old. Everything is still brand new, and I can't imagine having anything more to do than take care of her.

So, No, we're not planning on having any more kids.

Why do I sound offended at the question? Maybe because I am still sensitive about fertility and birth and death and chance/hope/luck/whatever it is. It's nobody's business how many children a woman plans to carry. And even though my miscarriage was early, I still know that I have had two pregnancies (I mean, really, they ask on forms at the doctor's office how many pregnancies you've had, how many children you have--they know the numbers don't necessarily line up in present tense.). Ella could have had a big brother or sister.

Ella could have had a big brother or sister.

Is it crazy that I'm still sad sometimes, all these five years later, that I lost a baby?

I don't think so. For those women I know, for whom this kind of loss is new, all I can say is that it becomes less all consuming. I didn't think it would happen, but I don't think of it all the time anymore, though it's still true and there--I lost a baby.

Maybe that's the other reason we don't want any more children. Having experienced loss makes us so consciously grateful for every moment we have with Ella, and sometimes I feel so nervous that we might lose her, I can't imagine going through this again with another human being; the nine months of fear that meld into a different kind of holding-your-breath life.

Don't get me wrong; I don't live in a constant state of despair or fear; I just don't think I have it in me to do it again.

Plus, Ella is so wonderful, our miracle baby--what more could we want?

Independent Playing

2011-03-21T21:24:00.000-07:00

Ella has taken to crawling through the base of the Exersaucer. She also likes to look at her books on her own. I put the books on the bottom shelf so that she would be able to reach them, and when she started taking them down on her own, I would read each one as it came. Now, she takes one down, looks at it and then reaches for the next (usually). Sometimes she just grabs them one after another, with barely a glance at the cover.

Jiggling

2011-03-21T16:54:00.000-07:00

I did Stroller Strides today, which was a surprise because it was storming all day yesterday and I thought for sure it was going to be moved to the mall today. I do not work out in the mall, even when it's closed. First, it makes me feel like more of a yuppie than I do just working out with a bunch of new moms. Second, driving to Manhattan Beach from Redondo Beach in the rain just to exercise doesn't make any sense to me. It's about a 30 minute drive in the RAIN. People in California don't know how to drive in the rain, and if I got in an accident on the way to exercise I never would forgive myself.

But today, Diane sent out an e-mail saying it was a beautiful sunny day and we would have class outdoors.

So of course, about 45 minutes into the hour-long class it started to sprinkle. We braved it for a while, continuing to squat and then row using stretchy bands for resistance.

Then it started to really rain. So we moved to the shelter of the (leaky) amphitheater to do our abs and stretches. Standing crunches. I did standing crunches, to "work on that love handle area," as the thin, young, wonderful instructor said.

I have a love handle area.

I've never had love handles before.

I've never jiggled before.

I've heard women talk about their boobs bouncing when they run and thought how nice it would be to have boobs instead of pecs. But now I need new sports bras. Ones with purpose. Even though I couldn't breastfeed because of all the medications I take, I grew during my pregnancy and also got to try to suppress my milk from coming in. So, I bounce.

Worse, perhaps... though... today when we ran up and down the staircase from the beach to the boardwalk, I felt my butt jiggling. I'd gotten used to the tummy jiggling, but, really, my butt? Come on, man!

So, I suppose when I move to Seal Beach I'll have to join Stroller Strides (in Long Beach) or get a jogging stroller and try to learn to run again.

I have always been a thin person, but that cursed/wonderful medicine Abilify has made me a fatty.

I don't want to be a fatty.

More importantly, I want to set a good example for Ella, so she doesn't grow up with body image issues. So I MUST stop saying what a fatty I am and, as a friend said, "Just do something about it."

I'm doing something about it.

Now I just have to work on learning to eat like a person who doesn't have that super fast metabolism I used to enjoy. But that's for another day.

Feeding Ella

2011-03-20T19:09:00.000-07:00

Patience.

Acceptance of messiness.

Not our strong suits.

Still, what we need to be able to feed Ella. She's still mastering putting food into her mouth herself--for some reason she pushes it out with her tongue and she also keeps her fingers in there. Today I tried to read a magazine while she was eating (it can be that boring), and she wanted the magazine, so I'm stuck watching this process.

Then, there's the baby food. She likes to help by grabbing the spoon. She also insists on seeing the labels--every time I switch to a new jar she has to point to the babies on the label. Then, she sticks her fingers into the jar to check the consistency. It's always the same.

The smile at the end makes it worth it.

Finger foods--peach yogurt melts and puffs.

Vegetable Turkey Dinner.


All done.

Dreams Coming True

2011-03-19T15:34:00.000-07:00

We found a house in Seal Beach and tomorrow we get the keys!

Ever since my pregnancy began with Ella I have been afraid to write. I didn't want to jinx it, as though writing about her existence would call attention to the little miracle happening inside me, and if anyone noticed my good fortune, it would be taken away.

I still feel that way, but I also miss writing.

So here I am, braving it. Knowing I can't jinx my life by documenting the good, the bad and the ugly.

OK. So maybe I'm not ready to delve into everything that has happened just yet, but I will get there.

I was thinking about starting a new blog because I feel like I am starting a new life. My health has been stable for about two years now. I am so far "after school" that being a teacher is no longer my identity. I am a mom! Yet, being a mom(!) is not my entire identity.

What!?!?

Indeed, I seem to have learned not to wrap my identity up in just one thing, the way I did when I was a teacher. I am Olaina and that is so much and so little at once that I can't just attach myself to a label.

It feels good.

There is a part of me that wants to take down this blog entirely. I'm pretty sure I'll never get hired for anything with an online presence that talks about major depressive disorder or bipolar mood disorder II or postpartum depression. On the other hand, I have had at least one woman become a dear friend because my blog empowered her to let me in on her own circumstances. That makes it worth it.

I have always believed in the truth. I am also really tired of shame. I don't want to be ashamed of who I am and what I have experienced, and if people can't deal with it then maybe they're not suitable for building a relationship with me.

So, I'm telling the truth.

It shall be revealed.

In the meantime: We are moving to Seal Beach! We found a house to rent in Old Town and when it becomes ours for reals, seriously, I will tell you more about it and post pictures.

Wanted: Home in Old Town Seal Beach

2011-02-23T20:24:00.001-08:00

They say if you put something into the universe you help it come true. So this is it: we want to live in Seal Beach. We can move in May or June.

This is our list of requirements:
Justin wants space to BBQ
I want a washer and dryer
we want a walkable neighborhood
we need 2 bedrooms + a den, or 3 bedrooms with 1 or 2 bathrooms
we need a dishwasher
we must have 2 parking spots, hopefully a garage for storage
we'd like a yard and/or a balcony
we need to be on the first floor so my mom can visit without climbing the stairs

Is that so much to ask?

There, now it's out there. I just have to wait for it to materialize.

Dear Blog

2010-08-14T20:37:00.001-07:00

Hello Blog! How I've missed you so! But you see, I've been busy. We made a person!

I have a really cool photo of said person when she first arrived, but as she is still attached to me at that point, I'm afraid I'll have to keep that photo from the sometimes sensitive viewing public.

Oh Blog, I missed you. I wanted to write, but I was afraid I'd jinx the pregnancy, and I couldn't bear to do that. Not after the miscarriage from five years ago, not after the risks and fears and tears.

But now I have a little girl sleeping next to me, three months old tomorrow, and I think I am free to write again. She's even out of the so called "fourth trimester"--the one where she's still such a baby you really can't expect her to do stuff like sleep without being swaddled.

Anyway, I just thought I'd say hello and maybe get reacquainted, if that's all right.

Life is good.

This is Ella Grace at her baptism, Aug. 1, 2010, at University Lutheran Church in San Diego.

Sign Posts

2009-07-09T17:43:00.000-07:00

Driving by a church we saw the message, "What does Jesus mean to you?"

"Eternal Salvation," I said.

"My Buddy," Justin sang.

Eating Re-Order

2009-05-31T14:16:00.000-07:00

Last week the doctors did another medication change. This time they put me back on a medication I had taken in the past--back in the days when eating was merely something I did for survival, not a pastime or an obsession or a dream.

That's right, for the first time in my life (and for the past year) I have been hungry most of the time. It's due to a slow down and something else due to a new medication that evened out my mood but also made me a little sluggish and a lot hungry. Naturally, for the first time in my life I am tipping the scales in an unhealthy way--my BMI nearing "overweight."

I have been dreaming of eating a grilled cheese sandwich. I have eaten a full meal and still wanted more. I have desired Cheez-Its and chips and crackers and cheese and more cheese and bread of all sorts and then some more please. We don't normally buy any kind of junk food, so I have been saved by my self in some ways. But the yearning has been exhausting--and unsatisfied by substitutes.

I became the fat girl.

The problem was, with my metabolism artificially slowed down, my lethargy artificially raised, and no end in sight to the need for my medication there was only one way for this trend to go: up.

Thus the reintroduction of another mood stabilizer, one that revs people up a bit and speeds up the metabolism.

So now, my relationship to food is re-ordered. It's lunchtime, but I'm not particularly hungry. I will eat because I am supposed to eat.

The problem is, I have forgotten how to eat this way. Part of me wants to gorge myself out of habit. The part of me that has been eating because I am bored and can't think of anything else to do (plus I'm hungry) doesn't know what to do now that food is of little interest. I walk to the fridge. I open it. I peer. I close it. I walk away, sit down, wonder. Repeat.

And what should I eat for lunch? Is Naked Juice enough? Or do I have to make myself a meal from last night's dinner leftovers?

As a woman who once had little to no relationship with food, this new perspective is more annoying than interesting.

Plus, I hate that it was so easy to gain the weight and is going to be so much work to get back down to the other end of the BMI scale.

hmmm.... is writing about eating enough that I don't have to actually eat? Probably not. Did it make me hungry? Not really. Will I have some leftovers? OK. Fine.

Renaissance Fair Photos

2009-05-03T13:14:00.000-07:00

Renaissance Fair fun:

Ren Fair

Neil and Hilary's Wedding Weekend

2009-04-19T11:31:00.000-07:00

Medicine and Me

2009-03-14T11:31:00.000-07:00

As much as I say I have resigned myself to a lifetime of medication, when things go awry I certainly wish I could just titrate off all of them and be done with it.

I still feel run down from the week. My body is shaky-feeling (though Thank God not actually shaking) and my head is all foggy. It's somewhere between being hungover from alcohol or an all-nighter or both, and being on a caffeine high.

Unfortunately, it's not something that is going to improve if I puke, which I feel like I could do. But I won't. I hate puking and try to avoid it as much as possible.

Besides, at this point all the medicinal poison is in my blood and I just have to wait it out. If I got sick, I would just lose my breakfast and the nutrients that are going to carry me through this day.

Additionally, I am still too restless to just lie down and take a nap. So, exhausted, restless... I feel like a two year old who missed her day time nap and now can't fall asleep at night.

All I want to do is try to get my grad school application together, but maybe today is not the day.

My brain

2009-03-13T15:22:00.000-07:00

Today I'm feeling a little bit better. I'm pretty tired, but yesterday I stayed connected to my doctors through e-mail and figured out what to do.

It's like the three of us have this little three year old brain we're in charge of keeping from playing in the freeway... we've told it the rules but it's like, "Oh, I dunno. Those cars look so shiny and fun, maybe I can just run in there really fast. Maybe just once."

I kind of wish I could just hand the brain over and let someone else take care of it for a while so I can get some rest.

I'm trying to be gentle with myself and get some work done today but not feel too bad for resting a bit.

I think I'm in the market for a babysitter.

All that and a little akathesia on the side...

2009-03-12T21:05:00.000-07:00

Today was one of the hardest days I have had in a long time.

I switched medications because one of the so-called stabilizers causes me to be hungry all the time--which causes me to weigh about 30-40 pounds more than I need to weigh. I also had to switch because I had been dealing with some depression that seemed like it could be improved, so up a little of this, down a little of that, add a little of this... the usual drill.

The switch was completed about three days ago.

I was not sure if this funny (not funny haha, more like funny Oh God) thing that has been happening to me has anything to do with that, but I've been getting overcome by this bizarre inability to sit still. It's happened three times and there are a few more times when I've tried to suppress the urge. Basically, I feel like I might have to pee (but then I go and it's not the case, nor does it make me feel more settled). It's kind of like I'm on the brink of something but I don't know what it is; I literally have to move around, running my legs in the air, squirming like a little kid... If this is what ADHD kids or other special ed kids feel like when they can't sit still in class I have a whole new empathy for them. I really can't sit still and it makes me feel crazy. It's kind of scary and definitely not normal.

I've taken some of my leftover old (still authorized) medicine to try to calm down. It helps a little bit. I only take half a pill. I have also done that a couple of times to help me sleep.

Today I had to take a second half (which equals a whole) and a bunch of benadryl to try to be still. Today, almost all day, I could not physically be still. The only time I felt OK was when I was asleep, and it was hard to fall asleep.

As my psychiatrist says, "Yeah, I would say the [new medicine] is a bust."

I'll say. Even though I was not depressed, I kept thinking of alternatives to help me not feel so horrible, but those alternatives were even more horrible. I haven't had such a bad day trying so hard to control my body in ages.

On the upside, since I already had to get off a medicine to start this new medicine, and since I'm not taking the new medicine, I'm down a medicine.

I get to try life without one of my usual medicines!

If anyone else is keeping a running log, that means I'm down to three.

Also, just for the record, I love my psychiatrist, who had this whole 17 e-mail conversation with me today. It's so worth keeping her even though her office is in San Diego.

Insomnia

2009-03-06T03:18:00.000-08:00

I knew it was over when I became genuinely curious about what's on TV at 3 a.m.

Could I be missing something good?

This is night two without sleeping well for more than an hour at a time.

Last night Justin was at work, so I thought tonight would be better since he's back. Then I thought maybe if he were gone. Then I realized he doesn't have a night shift for the rest of this month.

Now, I'm hoping the couch will be the remedy I need.

I heard neighbors talking in the courtyard and thought I had insomnia company, until I realized that young girls returning home at 3 a.m. are probably just beginning their sleep--they've probably been out having fun all this time.

I've already begun to wonder whether I'll ever sleep again, whether I'll get sleepy during the day (I'll take a nap, I don't care anymore WHEN I sleep as long as I DO sleep), why this is happening to me. (Manic? Depressed? What?)

The Tonight Show with Jay Leno. Punk'd. World News. Heart Healthy Yoga.

Oooo! Maybe I'll do some yoga! Nah... there's TiVoed Law and Order.

purposely...

2009-03-05T17:08:00.000-08:00

When I was in first grade I thought I could teach kindergarten.

Why not? I had already learned everything there was to teach in kindergarten.

Though I have tried different paths several times, I still come back to teaching when I consider my purpose in life.

something about journalism, advertising, traveling, walking around the world thinking of ways I could bring things into the classroom

time learning that life is about being, not doing

returning to my purpose--teaching, but first learning more and writing--college letters of rec were all I got to write, but I want to combine writing and teaching in my career

....or something like that.

On Purpose?

2009-03-05T15:41:00.000-08:00

When I was in first grade I thought I could be a kindergarten teacher.

The way I saw it, I had done all the stuff they do in kindergarten, so I was ready to lead the little kids through it.

And so it goes.

As though I have a purpose...

2009-03-05T15:03:00.000-08:00

For my grad school applications I have to write. I need a "Statement of Purpose. Write a brief statement of purpose describing reason(s) for pursuing graduate or postbaccalaureate study. Include any additional information concerning your preparation that is pertinent to the objective specified. Attach an additional sheet if necessary."

My friend Brian is fond of saying, "we are human beings, not human doings." I have just begun to define myself by being instead of by what I am doing, and now this question.

Perhaps I am a teachable moment.

Perhaps I am more of an accident than a purpose.

If I continue my studies does it mean that the life lessons of the past few years are for naught because I am back at doing a lot. Must I abandon just being?

I hope not. I believe I can do both. What I want to do is study, learn and be able to teach more whether that be in a classroom or through publication. But any idiot can write drivel about those goals. What I am interested in, what I think makes me an interesting person worthy of the company of graduate students and professors, is something else.

Maybe it IS the idea that I am a teachable moment. Or that I embrace teachable moments.

Huh?

When I heard through the doctor's office door that the intern had never done a needle biopsy before, I decided I would give him the chance to learn. He fired the "gun" once so I could hear it and then pierced my breast with it.

When I learned I had to have a surgical biopsy, I decided to stay awake through it, so that I could learn about the environment of my then-medical-student-husband. Under conscious-sedation, I sang through the experience as though I were on a karaoke stage instead of an operating table.

When I spent eight days in the hospital, I talked to my fellow patients about ways to stay calm, teaching them the mindfulness methods I had learned to maintain my own sanity.

I don't know what this has to do with anything. It was just an idea.

How about this?

I walked into my apartment at 1 a.m. to find my husband and his fellow medical school students playing poker and drinking scotch. It was at that moment that I knew I had to change my life.

None of this makes me sound like an interesting person. It just makes me sound like a freak that no one would want destabilizing their program.

Maybe something straightforward. Maybe boring is the answer (I know it is not).

The fact is that I have watched Justin prepare for and survive medical school and I am all but shouting, "I want my turn." That's my purpose. It's my turn to learn and to study and to experience the camaraderie of an academic program. I want to teach, I want to write, but I really just want my turn. We'll see what happens next. If there's anything I have learned it's that making too-solid plans is asking for disappointment or failure. It's best just to take things a day at a time.

Which isn't really helping me write a statement of purpose.

Revvv! Revvv!

2009-03-05T07:03:00.001-08:00

I just tossed and turned my way through another night of Ambien CR. I think I got a little nap in there, but no promised 7-8 hours of sleep.

I need letters of recommendation.
I need to write a statement of purpose.
I need sleep.
I need to do laundry.
I need to go to the commissary.
I need sleep.
I need a job.

A statement of purpose....

I'll do the laundry now--at 7 a.m.

Manic

2009-02-22T12:07:00.000-08:00

I took an Ambien and tried to sleep last night but it wasn't working, so after half an hour I decided to read. After several hours I decided to try the couch, then I moved back to the bed. At 6:30 a.m. I got up and started doing laundry. I felt like I could do anything--no sleep.

Justin made me lie down with him again after we put the laundry away. He held me down in a cuddle until I finally rested.

Now I feel like crap.

And there you go. Some people go shopping when they're manic; I read and do laundry. A rapid cycle.

yikes

2009-02-18T18:39:00.000-08:00

I'm still unemployed.

So much of America is unemployed, yet I am managing to make my unemployment my problem. My problem. As if it is my fault that, like so many other Americans, I got laid off.

So it is not my fault.

Which means there is no reason, no reason at all, for me to blame myself even a little bit.

I'm still unemployed.

Now that I'm unemployed...

2009-02-16T22:26:00.001-08:00

I suppose it's time for me to find a new road for this life of mine.

I got laid off.

I spent my time immediately following Thursday's news in a stricken stupor quickly followed by a beautifully distracting visit from my Canadian cousins, so now I have time to reflect.

The only thing I keep coming back to is grad school--and by "keep" I mean, since I was first teaching...

And now I see that Cal State Long Beach is the only close-by program.

Deadline: last Saturday.

So we shall see...

Just Another TGIF-Kinda Girl

2009-02-08T18:09:00.001-08:00

I haven't cared so much about weekends in a while, but now that I'm working 9 to 5, I'm all about the weekend.

Justin still works on weekends, so I don't have the luxury of my husband's company every weekend, but I also don't have to go to work.

That is reward enough for having survived another five days at the office.

On Mondays, my friend and I look forward to our Friday Happy Hour margaritas. It's really what carries us through.

You know that job I mentioned?

So far, I have created a 5 page brochure, including 17 meetings to review the text and the graphics, created a presence for the company on facebook, myspace and linked in, answered the phones done some administrative work, taken photographs of a class for our website and, oh, by the way, am getting set to actually create a website for us.

Please review previously posted job description if you have any questions.

Tomorrow, I stop whining about this turn of events.

Until then, I will continue to feel put-upon, taken advantage of, used, and aggravated.

I know my attitude could use a little warming up.

Despite my new found regard for the weekend, I find myself spending it getting the car fixed, doing laundry and cleaning the house. Still, this is better than work?

At least next weekend I get to see my cousins, who will be visiting mom and dad from Toronto. Their son is playing baseball in the region, so we'll be going to his games. The following weekend is the movie marathon. The weekend after that is my get away to Ventura with Justin.

In between, margarita Fridays. Thank God.

homeward bound

2009-01-29T22:44:00.000-08:00

Today I went to the resident-applicant mixer even though Justin was on-call.

That's right: I went to a party voluntarily and alone!

Granted, it was at a friend's house, so it was easy to do.

Anyway, coming home to an empty house is getting to be so common with Justin on call that I feel single again. That nice homey feeling, when you know you get to do whatever you want and you can crawl into bed with the laptop and no one will be bothered...

Then I remember I am married and wonder what the hell I'm doing alone again.

heh

2009-01-26T20:42:00.000-08:00

Just like that, *snap* today I feel better.

Not this morning, though I didn't feel as bad, but some time during the day--I just stopped feeling so heavy.

I didn't notice it until I was on my way home. I just didn't feel heavy. I didn't feel like something was going wrong. I didn't feel like I was moving through doom.

There is a part of me that is still looking over my shoulder trying to see if the monsters are still behind me, but then I force myself to look forward, so that I do not waste too much time wondering what is happening and simply believe in the good.

There is also a part of me that is working to preserve this goodness. I stayed home tonight, instead of going out with a friend (two offers). I felt like I needed the rest--which is all I've been doing, but it is different to sit and rest when I feel OK rather than feeling like I am trying to keep from drowning. Of course, part of me is aware that staying at home is a symptom of the continuing hangover of depression, but I'm willing to take my chances.

Heh. Suddenly things don't seem so dark.

Weight Wait ...don't tell me

2009-01-22T18:09:00.000-08:00

I feel like I am carrying around a huge bundle of squirming puppies and somehow it is important that the puppies do not escape the bag, but they keep trying.

And now I've managed to make even puppies depressing.

But that's what it's like, I feel so weighted down by some enormous force against my chest and I feel like I am trying to contain something that does not want to be contained.

Mostly I feel like lying around in the dark and maybe crying.

Instead, I get up each day, slog through getting ready and go to work, where I slog some more.

Breathe.

I've taken a different approach this time and gone public immediately with my depression, which brings with it the blessing of friends' support and the curse of people's advice.

Trust me, if I could "feel better" or "do the things I am supposed to do to feel better" I would.

Just tell me you love me and that you're sorry things suck right now. It's a chemical imbalance. It's a disease. I can't think my way out of this one, not really.

I feel like I missed the inauguration. I didn't get the jubilance I felt when Obama got elected. I just felt kinda glad and knew I had a sense of relief that Bush was out of the White House.

I feel like I am missing a lot of my life. The meds do that--flatten me out. It was almost a relief to sob so woefully on Monday. I was getting afraid that I might have forgotten how to cry.

I hate waiting. I have to wait for the medications to kick in so that hopefully I can pull out of this quicksand feeling. In the meantime, those puppies better settle down.

Change has come to the United States of America

2009-01-20T20:01:00.000-08:00

And if you need a gauge of my mood severity: I feel pretty good about it, but not ecstatic or energized.

Mostly I want to go to sleep.

But today Barack Obama became the 44th President of these United States. I'm including the speech here. I got to watch it at work. I don't really have the energy to write about it now.

My fellow citizens:

I stand here today humbled by the task before us, grateful for the trust you have bestowed, mindful of the sacrifices borne by our ancestors. I thank President Bush for his service to our nation, as well as the generosity and cooperation he has shown throughout this transition.

Forty-four Americans have now taken the presidential oath. The words have been spoken during rising tides of prosperity and the still waters of peace. Yet, every so often the oath is taken amidst gathering clouds and raging storms. At these moments, America has carried on not simply because of the skill or vision of those in high office, but because We the People have remained faithful to the ideals of our forbearers, and true to our founding documents.

So it has been. So it must be with this generation of Americans.

That we are in the midst of crisis is now well understood. Our nation is at war, against a far-reaching network of violence and hatred. Our economy is badly weakened, a consequence of greed and irresponsibility on the part of some, but also our collective failure to make hard choices and prepare the nation for a new age. Homes have been lost; jobs shed; businesses shuttered. Our health care is too costly; our schools fail too many; and each day brings further evidence that the ways we use energy strengthen our adversaries and threaten our planet.

These are the indicators of crisis, subject to data and statistics. Less measurable but no less profound is a sapping of confidence across our land - a nagging fear that America's decline is inevitable, and that the next generation must lower its sights.

Today I say to you that the challenges we face are real. They are serious and they are many. They will not be met easily or in a short span of time. But know this, America - they will be met.

On this day, we gather because we have chosen hope over fear, unity of purpose over conflict and discord.

On this day, we come to proclaim an end to the petty grievances and false promises, the recriminations and worn out dogmas, that for far too long have strangled our politics.

We remain a young nation, but in the words of Scripture, the time has come to set aside childish things. The time has come to reaffirm our enduring spirit; to choose our better history; to carry forward that precious gift, that noble idea, passed on from generation to generation: the God-given promise that all are equal, all are free, and all deserve a chance to pursue their full measure of happiness.

In reaffirming the greatness of our nation, we understand that greatness is never a given. It must be earned. Our journey has never been one of short-cuts or settling for less. It has not been the path for the faint-hearted - for those who prefer leisure over work, or seek only the pleasures of riches and fame. Rather, it has been the risk-takers, the doers, the makers of things - some celebrated but more often men and women obscure in their labor, who have carried us up the long, rugged path towards prosperity and freedom.

For us, they packed up their few worldly possessions and traveled across oceans in search of a new life.

For us, they toiled in sweatshops and settled the West; endured the lash of the whip and plowed the hard earth.

For us, they fought and died, in places like Concord and Gettysburg; Normandy and Khe Sahn.

Time and again these men and women struggled and sacrificed and worked till their hands were raw so that we might live a better life. They saw America as bigger than the sum of our individual ambitions; greater than all the differences of birth or wealth or faction.

This is the journey we continue today. We remain the most prosperous, powerful nation on Earth. Our workers are no less productive than when this crisis began. Our minds are no less inventive, our goods and services no less needed than they were last week or last month or last year. Our capacity remains undiminished. But our time of standing pat, of protecting narrow interests and putting off unpleasant decisions - that time has surely passed. Starting today, we must pick ourselves up, dust ourselves off, and begin again the work of remaking America.

For everywhere we look, there is work to be done. The state of the economy calls for action, bold and swift, and we will act - not only to create new jobs, but to lay a new foundation for growth. We will build the roads and bridges, the electric grids and digital lines that feed our commerce and bind us together. We will restore science to its rightful place, and wield technology's wonders to raise health care's quality and lower its cost. We will harness the sun and the winds and the soil to fuel our cars and run our factories. And we will transform our schools and colleges and universities to meet the demands of a new age. All this we can do. And all this we will do.

Now, there are some who question the scale of our ambitions - who suggest that our system cannot tolerate too many big plans. Their memories are short. For they have forgotten what this country has already done; what free men and women can achieve when imagination is joined to common purpose, and necessity to courage.

What the cynics fail to understand is that the ground has shifted beneath them - that the stale political arguments that have consumed us for so long no longer apply. The question we ask today is not whether our government is too big or too small, but whether it works - whether it helps families find jobs at a decent wage, care they can afford, a retirement that is dignified. Where the answer is yes, we intend to move forward. Where the answer is no, programs will end. And those of us who manage the public's dollars will be held to account - to spend wisely, reform bad habits, and do our business in the light of day - because only then can we restore the vital trust between a people and their government.

Nor is the question before us whether the market is a force for good or ill. Its power to generate wealth and expand freedom is unmatched, but this crisis has reminded us that without a watchful eye, the market can spin out of control - and that a nation cannot prosper long when it favors only the prosperous. The success of our economy has always depended not just on the size of our Gross Domestic Product, but on the reach of our prosperity; on our ability to extend opportunity to every willing heart - not out of charity, but because it is the surest route to our common good.

As for our common defense, we reject as false the choice between our safety and our ideals. Our Founding Fathers, faced with perils we can scarcely imagine, drafted a charter to assure the rule of law and the rights of man, a charter expanded by the blood of generations. Those ideals still light the world, and we will not give them up for expedience's sake. And so to all other peoples and governments who are watching today, from the grandest capitals to the small village where my father was born: know that America is a friend of each nation and every man, woman, and child who seeks a future of peace and dignity, and that we are ready to lead once more.

Recall that earlier generations faced down fascism and communism not just with missiles and tanks, but with sturdy alliances and enduring convictions. They understood that our power alone cannot protect us, nor does it entitle us to do as we please. Instead, they knew that our power grows through its prudent use; our security emanates from the justness of our cause, the force of our example, the tempering qualities of humility and restraint.

We are the keepers of this legacy. Guided by these principles once more, we can meet those new threats that demand even greater effort - even greater cooperation and understanding between nations. We will begin to responsibly leave Iraq to its people, and forge a hard-earned peace in Afghanistan. With old friends and former foes, we will work tirelessly to lessen the nuclear threat, and roll back the specter of a warming planet. We will not apologize for our way of life, nor will we waver in its defense, and for those who seek to advance their aims by inducing terror and slaughtering innocents, we say to you now that our spirit is stronger and cannot be broken; you cannot outlast us, and we will defeat you.

For we know that our patchwork heritage is a strength, not a weakness. We are a nation of Christians and Muslims, Jews and Hindus - and non-believers. We are shaped by every language and culture, drawn from every end of this Earth; and because we have tasted the bitter swill of civil war and segregation, and emerged from that dark chapter stronger and more united, we cannot help but believe that the old hatreds shall someday pass; that the lines of tribe shall soon dissolve; that as the world grows smaller, our common humanity shall reveal itself; and that America must play its role in ushering in a new era of peace.

To the Muslim world, we seek a new way forward, based on mutual interest and mutual respect. To those leaders around the globe who seek to sow conflict, or blame their society's ills on the West - know that your people will judge you on what you can build, not what you destroy. To those who cling to power through corruption and deceit and the silencing of dissent, know that you are on the wrong side of history; but that we will extend a hand if you are willing to unclench your fist.

To the people of poor nations, we pledge to work alongside you to make your farms flourish and let clean waters flow; to nourish starved bodies and feed hungry minds. And to those nations like ours that enjoy relative plenty, we say we can no longer afford indifference to suffering outside our borders; nor can we consume the world's resources without regard to effect. For the world has changed, and we must change with it.

As we consider the road that unfolds before us, we remember with humble gratitude those brave Americans who, at this very hour, patrol far-off deserts and distant mountains. They have something to tell us today, just as the fallen heroes who lie in Arlington whisper through the ages. We honor them not only because they are guardians of our liberty, but because they embody the spirit of service; a willingness to find meaning in something greater than themselves. And yet, at this moment - a moment that will define a generation - it is precisely this spirit that must inhabit us all.

For as much as government can do and must do, it is ultimately the faith and determination of the American people upon which this nation relies. It is the kindness to take in a stranger when the levees break, the selflessness of workers who would rather cut their hours than see a friend lose their job which sees us through our darkest hours. It is the firefighter's courage to storm a stairway filled with smoke, but also a parent's willingness to nurture a child, that finally decides our fate.

Our challenges may be new. The instruments with which we meet them may be new. But those values upon which our success depends - hard work and honesty, courage and fair play, tolerance and curiosity, loyalty and patriotism - these things are old. These things are true. They have been the quiet force of progress throughout our history. What is demanded then is a return to these truths. What is required of us now is a new era of responsibility - a recognition, on the part of every American, that we have duties to ourselves, our nation, and the world, duties that we do not grudgingly accept but rather seize gladly, firm in the knowledge that there is nothing so satisfying to the spirit, so defining of our character, than giving our all to a difficult task.

This is the price and the promise of citizenship.

This is the source of our confidence - the knowledge that God calls on us to shape an uncertain destiny.

This is the meaning of our liberty and our creed - why men and women and children of every race and every faith can join in celebration across this magnificent mall, and why a man whose father less than sixty years ago might not have been served at a local restaurant can now stand before you to take a most sacred oath.

So let us mark this day with remembrance, of who we are and how far we have traveled. In the year of America's birth, in the coldest of months, a small band of patriots huddled by dying campfires on the shores of an icy river. The capital was abandoned. The enemy was advancing. The snow was stained with blood. At a moment when the outcome of our revolution was most in doubt, the father of our nation ordered these words be read to the people:

"Let it be told to the future world...that in the depth of winter, when nothing but hope and virtue could survive...that the city and the country, alarmed at one common danger, came forth to meet [it]."

America. In the face of our common dangers, in this winter of our hardship, let us remember these timeless words. With hope and virtue, let us brave once more the icy currents, and endure what storms may come. Let it be said by our children's children that when we were tested we refused to let this journey end, that we did not turn back nor did we falter; and with eyes fixed on the horizon and God's grace upon us, we carried forth that great gift of freedom and delivered it safely to future generations.

The Sleeping Pill

2009-01-19T19:00:00.001-08:00

I don't want to take the sleeping pill.

I remember the first time I was assigned to taking one; it took me a week to give in and do it.

I was afraid I would get addicted.

I did not.

I stopped taking it because we wanted to get pregnant. However, A) That doesn't seem to be working out, B) I'm not in any shape to be pregnant or a mother when I'm sleep deprived and clinically depressed.

I have to take the sleeping pill again.

And again I do not want to. But I must. I need to sleep a whole night through. I know that a night of sleep will help me get on track. I know my body will not allow me that sleep of its own volition.

I wish I could survive without medication. It's like being a diabetic and always having to take insulin. I wish I did not have to, but I do--and I suppose I am glad that the medication exists, because it means I do have the opportunity to sleep tonight.

God, please help me get better quickly. I'm going to shut the door on this tearful day and wake up tomorrow to do the dishes and make the dinner and take a walk before I get ready for work. For now, I pray, Now I lay me down to sleep, I pray the Lord my Soul to keep; Our Father Who Art in Heaven, Hallowed be Thy Name; Thy Kingdom come, Thy Will be done, on Earth as it is in Heaven. Give us this day our daily bread, and forgive us our trespasses as we forgive those who trespass against us, and lead us not into temptation, but deliver us from evil, for Thine is the Kingdom, and the Power, and the Glory, forever and ever. Amen.

Denial

2009-01-19T14:53:00.000-08:00

I haven't written since Christmas.

Nothing really to say. I work now. 9-5. Trying not to let any of it get too important. Hour drive each way. People are OK. I still get the laundry done and go to the commissary.

I once wrote on FaceBook that "My life is so good that it is unrecognizable." I must have been hypomanic.

It only lasted for a couple of days.

Then I crashed.

One of my medications has caused me to gain a lot of weight. I was a happy too thin 105. Now I'm 145. If I didn't know better I'd say it made me want to kill myself, but really it just makes me want to stay out of sight. I look slightly pregnant. I'm never wearing a bikini again. I hate my shirts and most of my clothes don't fit properly anymore.

People laugh and say that no one gains 40 pounds over night, but it is kind of like that--it just happened. Pound by pound the weight just keeps coming but doesn't go away and does not stop coming.

Why am I admitting this disgusting yet minor travesty?

Because it happens to people. People gain weight. Medication has side effects. I almost always experience the side effects of a medication. Two of mine slow down the metabolism and can cause weight gain.

I was always skinny and now I'm not.

I have been eating less and I still do not lose weight.

So I'm getting depressed. I'm getting depressed about my body and I am also just getting depressed, which makes the cost analysis of the medication lousy.

Still, I have to take it. I cannot get worse than this. I cannot let people at work know that there is anything wrong with me and I cannot let Justin have anything to worry about.

So these are the things I have to do: exercise, call people, sleep.

Yeah.

I haven't been sleeping well. I have to take the sleeping pills again. Sleep loss is a symptom and a cause of depression. I have to manage it.

I haven't been using the phone. I have to return phone calls. I cannot let myself isolate--I have to connect with people.

I haven't been exercising. I haven't had the motivation, but now I am so scared about my mental and physical health that I simply must force myself to get out there and walk or run or go to the gym.

Those are the three hardest things for me to do and the three most important things for me to do at once.

So I haven't been writing.

One person noticed and knew it was a red flag, and now we have to pay attention.

I was trying to plow through and deny the drop, the pain, the possibility that I wasn't just adjusting to the new schedule but that I was suffering a drop in my mood, but denial does not work. It is not a cure. Denial is part of what got me into the depths of my despair in the first place. I can't pretend, at least not to myself. I'll pretend for work and I'll be strong for Justin (who I know will love and support me no matter what, but whom I want to protect just a little bit), but for myself and for anyone who has been following this journey of depression with me, you have to know that it is not all easy. I had six good months. I didn't believe it would last, and then I didn't take advantage of the time, and then I didn't notice.

And then it was over.

So now I have to work again.

I know what to do--the GRAPES.
Be Gentle with myself.
Relax.
Accomplish something.
Do something Pleasurable.
Exercise.
Socialize.

For me, this time, this is going to mean gently forgiving myself for my weight, telling myself I'm beautiful, at least accepting that it will be a long road to my healthy weight.

I have to rest--read a book, watch TV, take a short nap. Write.

I have to keep going to work and getting work done while I am there.

I have to enjoy something each day--or at least do something I used to like. It might not make me feel pleasure, but it will remind me of the action that makes me happy. So I should get out there and take a walk, I should call a friend, I should smile...

Exercise. Run, walk, yoga, kickboxing, push-ups, sit-ups, something.

Socialize. Even interaction at lunch should count for me, but calling someone would be a great stride. Answering the phone.

OK. There. Now you know. I was gone because I started disappearing again. But my therapist caught me, and now I have to work on coming back into focus.

That was a lot to tell a bunch of strangers. But I am sitting on my couch in the dark, so it was kind of easy. jk (about the easy part) This blog has become something more than a journal or a link to friends. I know other people with similar medical disorders read this blog--this entry is for you.

Barack Obama wants us to live in service--every day--to the world. Maybe my service is going to be really close to home. I have to get healthy. I have to lead by example. I have to be there for Justin so he can be there for his patients so they can be there for their families so...

and I will write about it.

The True Meaning of Christmas

2008-12-25T09:26:00.000-08:00

Justin and I are celebrating the most non-commercialized Christmas of our lives.

A scene from this morning:

"Merry Christmas! I'm ready to get up now."

"Let's sleep in!"

"I'm like a little kid on Christmas morning!"

"But there's nothing out there!"

That's right... nothing. Justin and I decided not to buy Christmas presents this year. My family is getting art related stuff (TBA, in case they read this early) and we're getting nuttin' for Christmas.

'Tis the Christmas of paupers.

Actually, later we are going to go shopping during the sales for some necessities. I need pj's and socks and maybe some shirts. He needs T-shirts and maybe some jeans. We're going to buy a toaster oven, but suddenly that does not count among our presents. We just need a replacement because ours only toasts one side of the bread now. The top.

While Justin and I thought this was a brilliant plan during all that time we were not shopping, we now think it sucks. We both love giving presents and are sad not to get to see each other excited over our finds. So next year there will be Some Thing. And next year there will be more money, what with me having a regular job now and all.

Last week at the restaurant one of the girls told me she was crying because she had no money to buy her daughter a present. And her daughter wanted a bicycle. Two of the regulars gathered up enough money for her to buy one. I think she probably could have bought one and paid rent if she just didn't spend the money on alcohol and other vices, but who am I to know?

This Christmas of paupers isn't that bad. It is nice to feel like we didn't participate in the commercialization of Christmas. Plus we went to church last night and had Eucharist and sang carols, so I feel like we realized the true reason for Christmas, you know, Christ's birth and all that. Even if he was probably born in the spring.

Merry Christmas, everyone! May you live in the blessed light of the birth, life and death of our Savior, Jesus Christ.

Ho, ho, ho...

Markers

2008-12-14T07:50:00.000-08:00

Dec. 25 will mark the half-way point for this residency year. It is also the half-way marker for Justin's stint in the neuro department--which unlike most of the residents he actually likes. They all complain that the department is too slow, that they have to stay there even when their work is done. Justin, though, enjoys the pace because it is so much slower than the ortho department. There he never had enough time and was constantly running around. I think it helps that here he does not have to work with that woman who always came in late and shunned doing work--when everyone on the team is playing life is far more pleasant than when someone is complaining and not getting anything done.

Meanwhile, on Monday I will start working. Boundaries! Boundaries! Boundaries! I am determined to set healthy boundaries. This goal means that I will do only what is asked of me. I will not try to transform anyone or anything; I will just go to work every day and do my best job on what is asked of me. I know it seems limiting to set these boundaries "what is asked of me," but I have a history of going above and beyond the call of duty in a way that gets me into trouble. I become too emotionally invested in a project and then become too emotional when it doesn't go my way. I am determined not to allow that to happen this time.

This time, I will approach my work with a healthy attitude. I will not try to become the best friend of anyone that I work with. I will not be jealous of the relationships that others have with each other--by virtue of time they will be close to each other, by virtue of my own boundaries, my own healthy boundaries, I will be just another co-worker.

I know there are going to be very boring tasks--counting papers (literally), filling out forms by hand (literally--handwriting), calling people repetitively to share the same information--but I am going to approach them as new to each person that sees the form, that joins the organization, that hears the information. I do not think that means I will do everything with Pollyanna joy, just that I will do them knowing that they are my tasks, that the situation is what I make of it, that all of it is day to day and not permanent. By that I mean that whether I stay with the organization for years or leave after a shorter term, I will not always be an administrative assistant. For whatever the title is worth (not much, in such a small company), I will not always have it. I am trying to be careful not to call myself an administrative assistant or a secretary because I get stymied in the title. With a team of five, we all do some of the mundane tasks, and as the first line on phone calls I am more of a public relations assistant than a receptionist. I will be trained to talk to the callers, not to transfer the call to someone else. No matter what my title, and without my trying to get beyond the job as it is defined, I am part of the team.

That said, boundaries! Boundaries! Boundaries!

I will enjoy my drive each morning and evening. I will exercise before or after work. I will work with a good attitude. I will get to know my co-workers during our joint lunches, and I will be friendly but not overwhelming or overwhelmed.

Everything is going to be fine. It's just a new chapter in the life of ours; another mark to be noticed and surpassed.

A New Chapter... Working Girl

2008-12-13T14:36:00.001-08:00

After a nearly two hour interview I decided to take the job working at a non-profit organization that runs after school enrichment programs in the performing arts. I'll be answering phones and doing administrative work, but I might also have the opportunity to work with writing and public relations.

It means I'll be giving up napping all day, working late at night, getting errands like laundry and store runs done during the day, not knowing how much I'll make each shift...

Like everything, the change brings blessings and some worries.

I am so used to napping when I get tired! I can't imagine going through a whole eight hour day in an office. Fortunately, the office is in a home and houses three dogs and a cat, so it's not an extraordinary move to a drab cubicle.

On the other hand, it is rather small and run out of the living room--so the five of us are a little bit on top of each other.

Still, it is a situation I am determined to make the best of, working for the first time in three years in a corporate professional atmosphere.

I am so nervous about the lifestyle change, and whether we'll all get along--getting along is very important in a five person office--and how it's going to be.

I have a commute! It's at least 30-45 minutes to get there, but that would be true of anything outside Redondo Beach; we are not conveniently located. Not near anything but ourselves.

I'm a working girl again, in a different way than I have been as a waitress. In a way it is similar to when I was the Editor-in-Chief of the magazine--though it lasted only a month--because of the small office environment. I hope this boss is more stable than that one.

There's so much to think about, so much to get ready for, so much to rearrange in my once boring life.

Yet, it is a smooth transition into a working life--a small job in a small office, just a step bigger from my small life.

Two Job Interviews, One Day

2008-12-11T11:17:00.001-08:00

The entirety of me, and nothing of me on the line.

Perspective!

More after the decision is made. One is to be the co-director of a literacy program, the other is to be the administrative assistant of a performing arts after school program. Both are perfect.

Perspective!

Off I go into the world of advanced employment...

Three Years to Ready

2008-12-10T13:25:00.000-08:00

It's been three years, nearly, since my world spun backward and then lunged forward. Three years since the miscarriage, three years since walking across the campus deciding which trashcan I would hurl into, three years since I left the classroom.

I still have teaching materials in my home, still think of lesson plans when I come across something that would be interesting for children to learn, still maintain contact with some of my students.

Three years ago I almost lost my life, I did lose the life I knew. Now, three years later I am rebuilding a life that is yet unknown.

There are so many times that I want to push fast forward and see what will be, but there is no button, so I wait to see what is to come.

Three years ago I learned we are not really in control of our destiny, we only move through our lives carefully and watch the colors of the picture brighten or dim.

It is time now, time to live well and be good, do good. And so I move and wait and move and wait, knowing that something will happen. Knowing that I create my own happiness, but not my entire circumstance.

If I were in charge of my circumstances, I would have a two year old child running around this apartment today. No, I am just the lead role in my life, I do not write the script.

Finer with age: wine, cheese, me...

2008-12-07T17:22:00.000-08:00

Happy Birthday to me! The all-girls photo from my birthday party. :)

Cake! But not 34 candles *whew!*.

The man of the hour, who gave me a clean apartment and a fabulous party for my birthday.

I have friends in Los Angeles!

those shows

2008-12-05T12:22:00.000-08:00

I like watching Grey's Anatomy and ER because they are the closest I'll ever get to being in the room with Justin. It's the same reason I stayed awake when I had my surgical biopsy (like a lumpectomy except without the breast cancer): I want to see what he sees.

So next time those doctors dis my shows, I'm telling them: I like them because I want to be with you and know what you are doing. As much as I can.

Grass is Greener

2008-12-04T11:42:00.000-08:00

If I know that I am gazing at greener grass, then I know that the grass I stand on is green itself.

So, I keep my job and stop complaining.

It's not actually that bad, if I frame it in the light of Gospel (freely given love) and being kind to strangers. If I consider waitressing an opportunity to bring joy to people who come in looking for shelter and food, I can't hate it. I have to do it with love and therefore a certain sense of joy.

Pollyanna?

A bit, but I have to do something to make carrying other people's dirty dishes and sometimes not being treated very kindly, or even as though I am visible, I have to do something to make that acceptable to me. I have to make my life OK.

I was looking for a job that is more cerebral. Something to keep my brain from rotting.

Waitressing does require that I keep things in my mind. It also gives me the opportunity to spend my days as I like--which could include my own challenges to read books, learn something.

The problem I have been having is that I am alone all the time. I used to like to run because it was an escape and a chance to be alone. Now I do not need to be more lonely than I already am. There is no refuge in silence--no refuge from silence in silence. I used to like to read because it was an escape into another world. Now I do not need to leave this world behind. There is nothing save silence from which to seek refuge.

I do not need revenge, I do not need to vent, I do not need to hide.

It is hard to get motivated to do things alone without anything to make me want to be alone.

I am alone.

Almost all the time.

The only person I frequently interact with is my husband. The servers and the customers at work. Yesterday, I asked Justin to please talk with me about politics. It was so refreshing--what do I think about Hillary Clinton as the Secretary of State and so on and so forth.

I know that substitute teaching would not be an intellectual breakthrough--I know that as a teacher I also yearned for the contact of adult conversation. However, substitute teaching would be certain hours, certain pay, certainty. But does certainty offer me anything I really want? At least now I know I could go to the gym if I just got out there, I could go to the library if I just got out there, I could...

The grass is greener on the other side, but it is plenty green right here under my feet. I think I'll stay.

'tis the Christmas of Paupers

2008-12-01T19:44:00.000-08:00

The tabletop Christmas tree is borrowed from our neighbors (they got a larger one with lights) and decorated with stars and snowflakes I cutout one evening. The angels and garland were found in the house from holidays past.

This year we are not giving anyone anything we do not already own. Fortunately, I make art, photographs and baked goods.

Justin and I are trying really hard to live within a budget. We are so in debt from me not working that if he weren't going to be a paid doctor in three years we could be on a TV news show about how people use credit badly.

Nevertheless, we are going to have a wine and cheese birthday party for me--no gifts, just wine or cheese if someone wants to bring something.

In other news, I am fat. The worst (or best) part about it is that I am basically OK with it. One day my metabolism slowed down, my interest in food increased, and my waistline grew out. The other day my stomach was the subject of conversation at work again. We have to wear these tight shirts, and somehow despite my being one of the skinniest girls there my stomach is the one that gets admired by my boss. It's the belly "that's going to be a momma" some day. The problem is, it is so big and I like food so much that I might as well be pregnant now. But I am not.

Yesterday I got to go to the Lakers game. It was a very spur of the moment treat from our friends who had an extra ticket. :) Yay! Fun!

A Good Day--redefined

2008-11-20T16:27:00.000-08:00

A good day used to be one in which I successfully taught an Honors English 10 class, beginning journalism and advanced journalism, graded a few papers and returned parent phone calls unscathed.

Now it's one where I woke up feeling like depression might be around the corner (I'm tired, sluggish, feeling-fat, unexercised, bored and frustrated with my job) and fought it by contacting a friend who is hosting a party tonight, deciding to go to the commissary and shop for Thanksgiving and then baking for tonight's party.

I could feel bad about having such... different standards of living, but perhaps these standards of living are better.

The first option was stress-laden and career-oriented.

The current option is luxurious and housewife-oriented.

Which is fine.

The other perspective I have to rethink is the way I have been feeling about my job as a waitress. I hate cleaning up after people and being treated badly or tipped poorly by strangers. But, if I think about each customer as an opportunity to make someone happy--something I live for--then I can't possibly be so miserable.

So, today I had a good day.

Redefined.

Limits

2008-11-10T20:31:00.000-08:00

I am not sure there is a limit to the number of times I will watch Barack Obama's acceptance speech from Tuesday night:

I am so excited about this chance for change that I cannot figure out what to do to be a part of the change.

For now, I think a new haircut will be my starting point. Or maybe a manicure. I got suckered into buying one of those packages from a place that was advertising--for $58 I got a manicure, pedicure, haircut, gym membership and some hair color treatments. I don't know what I was thinking--I don't ever plan on getting my hair colored.

Meanwhile, my restlessness is not allayed.

I really want to do something. When I was on my anxiety medication I was so tired it seemed perfectly necessary to sleep for much of the day. Now, however, I do not want to sleep but I cannot find anything else to do. I suppose there is always the house to clean, but I need fulfillment. I do not feel gung-ho about anything. I wish there were more obvious answers. Wishing does not make it so--I need a mandate. Obama has a mandate; I wonder how he knows where to start working.

I could participate in the No on 8 rallies, but I am not sure that I believe in their power. I realize the bizarre sound of that--I am all about the freedom of speech. But I want to participate in producing change. Will disrupting traffic and rightfully accusing the fundamentalist church of stealing their rights give gays the right to marry? It's a question. I am not sure. On the other hand, I am not sure that people thought the civil rights marches of the 1960s would be effective. Perhaps I should simply give civil disobedience the benefit of the doubt.

Meanwhile, what shall I do with these days that stretch before me?

Boredom is not my strong suit. Perhaps I should try to get work through a temp agency. Until then, I need to hold onto the idea of experimenting my way through life--that each day is an experiment and that I should just try out doing a little of this or that and not expect so much of myself.

Jesus is Pacing

2008-11-06T01:56:00.001-08:00

I am so frustrated with people who are using the Bible for divisiveness and cruelty that I can hardly sit calmly enough to type. I want to bash things around and yell at the top of my lungs and take the Book and show people, "Look! See! LOVE ONE ANOTHER!!!"

But I can't.

Instead, I watched images flicker by on the TV while I served drinks and listened to people cheer. People protesting Proposition 8 were being beaten by the police. I don't know why, I don't know who started it, I do not know if there was fault. But violence. Violence.

I need a break to be able to speak with my emotions tempered. I am Christian. I do not believe that being gay is a sin. Don't anyone dare tell me that "when I become Christian" I will think differently. I am Christian. So are some of my gay friends. All are welcome at the table of the Lord.

facebooking Love to trump hate

2008-11-05T15:48:00.000-08:00

From my facebook page:

Olaina Anderson is tumultuous: Yay Change with Obama! But chickens can spread their wings and gays can't marry? Come on, CA. Jesus said, "Love One Another." No exceptions.
3 hours ago
- 4 Comments

Dan at 1:03pm November 5
Amen

Danielle at 2:14pm November 5
Yes, we should "love our neighbor as yourself", which is the the second greatest commandment, "Love the Lord your God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your mind." is the greatest (Matt. 22:37-39, Deut. 6:5, Deut. 11:1). Galatians 6:1 says, "...if someone who is caught in a sin...you who are spiritual should restore him ... Read Moregently." Galatians 5:19 says, "the acts of the sinful nature are obvious: sexual immorality..." (also Leviticus 18:22, Romans 1). Matt. 7:1 and James 4:11 say we are not to judge. Not to judge, but yes to love! How could we be loving them if we open the door saying it's okay to sin?

Kerri at 3:02pm November 5
AMEN SISTER!

Olaina Anderson at 3:45pm November 5
Galatians does not say that homosexuality is a sin. Leviticus is from the Old Testament, which comes before the grace-full freely given love of Christ and the Christian New Testament, and also lays out many other "sins" regarding the place of women in society that we do not uphold today. Homosexuality is not a sin. It is not a choice. People do not... Read More choose to be gay--no one chooses to be persecuted. Man is created in God's image. Jesus said, "Love One Another."

Write a comment...

From The Center in San Diego

2008-11-05T13:40:00.000-08:00

Change Comes So Slowly

After months of unbelievable hard work, determination, courage and generosity, we have crossed the finish line of one hard-fought 2008 election.

Tonight, we are a country changed with the election our nation's first African-American president, President-elect Barack Obama.

But today we are trailing in the California fight against discrimination.

The current vote count has us behind with an incredibly steep hill to climb. But there are somewhere between 2.5 - 4 million votes that have not yet been counted (provisional ballots and absentees) and the information about where they are from is not yet available. The No on Prop 8 campaign has indicated that, given the incredible gravity of the situation, they will not issue the ultimate call on this election until they have that information (24-48 hours).

Never before in California's history has a group who currently enjoys a basic right, been singled out, and then had those rights ripped from them by a vote of their fellow citizens. This decision is so radical and so egregious, that every voice must first be heard, no matter how unlikely a changed outcome might be.

We are all diminished whenever discrimination is sanctioned and fundamental rights are stripped away from any of our citizens. We are all diminished when some families in California are denied access to the security and protections they deserve.

In this fight for fairness and justice, tens of thousands of Californians built a campaign that far surpassed any previous civil rights effort on any ballot measure, not only in California, but anywhere in our entire country. They poured their talents, their time, their resources and their hearts into this struggle for freedom and this fight to have their relationships treated equally. Thank you for each and every sacrifice.

In 2000 2.9 million Californians voted with us against discrimination; today, at least 5 million Californians voted with us to reject discrimination and we thank them for their support for equality.

Together, we put together the largest volunteer and grassroots network of any campaign other than a presidential campaign. Together, we spoke to our families, our friends, our neighbors and co-workers. Together, we reached outside of our community to build coalitions that will strengthen us all. Together, we raised more money for this fight, in a shorter time, than anyone believed possible.

And the struggle for equality is not over.

Activist and writer Anne Lamott writes, "Hope begins in the dark, the stubborn hope that if you just show up and try to do the right thing, the dawn will come. You wait and watch and work: you don't give up"”

Because of the struggle fought here in California and fought so incredibly well by the people in this state that love freedom and justice -- our fight for full civil rights will continue.

As we have stood side-by-side and worked together over these past several months, we must take a moment to come together again now. Please join The Center Advocacy Project, EQCA and HRC on Wed., Nov. 5 at 6:30 pm at The Center, 3909 Centre St., to be in the company of friends and all of those who love justice. For more information about our community gathering, please contact Jeff Wergeles at jwergeles@thecentersd.org.

Each of you has my very deepest gratitude and my immeasurable respect.

And while we cannot say victory is ours this day, we know that, because of the work done here, freedom, fairness and equality will be ours... our dawn will come.

Together with you always in this struggle,

Dr. Delores A. Jacobs
The San Diego LGBT Community Center
http://www.thecentersd.org
3909 Centre Street
San Diego, CA 92103
(619) 692-2077

Tumult within Hope

2008-11-05T12:23:00.000-08:00

There is so much in my heart that it is bursting.

The crowd started chanting, "Yes we can!" even before they knew it was an integral part of his acceptance speech.

When Obama gave his speech last night Justin lifted his foot--half foot--in salute when the President-elect acknowledged the disabled of America.

Michele Obama is the next First Lady of the United States of America. A black woman. Black children will live in the White House (with a new puppy!). This world has changed changed changed. Praise Jesus.

I love the story that Obama told of the 106-year-old woman who voted yesterday in a world so different than the one she was born into--"a generation past slavery". She lives now in a world in which women can vote, blacks can vote; she touched a screen to vote.

Yes we can!

I am grateful to my parents for moving to this country, for their decision to let us come to our own decisions to become citizens here, for our opportunity to vote in these elections.

Yes we can!

But then I remember Proposition 8, and the theft of the right to marry that California inflicted on gay men and women who love each other. I do not understand how a proposition to amend the state constitution to "eliminate the right of same-sex couples to marry" can pass in a world that can also feel so progressive. It is a tragic humbling outcome.

Now that in my small way with words and a little money and a little time I have contributed to the election of Hope, I wonder what next steps I can take to help make this world a better place. How can I help Barack Obama get his good work done? How can I help gays be treated as equal human beings? How can I contribute to the change we elected to have the chance to enact?

I consider my still looming student loan debt and my current work as a waitress and an art model and I wonder how I can better use my education (What's an English major to do?) to serve this country. I consider my recently-well-managed mood disorder and I wonder what I can manage to do and still be healthy. I consider my free time and pray for healthy outcomes and blessings on my work, whatever that work may be.

Barack Obama is the next President of the United States, and for the first time in years I harbor h a feeling of hope for the world, hope that is not against all odds, hope that is real and strong and steeped in the courage of so many people who believe that this world really can be a better place.

If yesterday I felt like it was audition day and I was waiting to hear whether I got a part, today I feel like the part turned out to be for a Broadway show instead of a school play. I might have a bit part, but I do not know when the show will close and I know the lead needs us all to do our best to support his role.

Yes. We can.

We Did It!

2008-11-04T16:37:00.000-08:00

Barack Hussein Obama was just elected the next President of the United States of America.

Yes we can!

*breathe*

I spent the day pacing, voting, pacing, turning on the TV, turning off the TV, pacing...

I can hardly breathe.

Yes we can!