This weekend I needed a mental health weekend. Time to regroup, rethink and reboot. So to speak. Here are some of the brilliant insights my brain stumbled upon.
Exercise can only get you so far before you have to resort to Ben & Jerry’s. Which of course will lead to more exercise but at least you will feel the satisfaction of devouring the frozen goodness that is the very definition of awesome therapy in a pint size container.
If you lay really still and don’t give in to the urge to move when someone peeks into your room to see if you are sleeping late, you can actually buy yourself some more alone time to check out TMZ, E! and People to see what those crazy celebrities did while you were sleeping.
Going to a hockey game really is a great way to release tension. There is just nothing more beautiful than the sound of a puck (or a hockey player) slamming into the glass. (I told my husband the most romantic gift he could give me would be a mix tape of checks into the boards, pucks hitting glass and the sound of hundreds of amped up fans cheering when a fight breaks out. Ooooh baby!)
Unhappy people make people unhappy. (I read that on a blog this weekend and for the life of me I cannot find it again.)
Old friends can make you laugh like no one else on earth. Sometimes, just hearing their voice on your voicemail makes your heart happier. Other times, it’s friends who send you smart-ass videos by Pink with notes that call you a dork and thanks you for not being a stupid girl which make you wonder “really is that a compliment or an insult and why would you ever even think of me when you see that… I just may be insulted by it except that you have me laughing too hard to be insulted.“
Kids really are resilient. And? They have amazing ways of seeing the world. I recommend spending some time with some if you can. Even if they include that scary breed of kid known as “teenager.” They’ll teach you a thing or two. And really what weekend is complete without being schooled by a teenager?
When you put your cold feet on your husband in the middle of the night, using the excuse “But you’ve been in bed longer so you are warmer” doesn’t endear them to your cause. Or warm your feet. Oh, and when they are putting their socks on the next morning and wake you up, they will hear you if you mumble something about not deserving socks to warm their feet.
The scariest words to write on your first book are not the first ones that start out the story and get your reader involved. They are…the end. Sometimes even scarier? To be continued…
You have trained your husband and children very, very well when you bitch about needing to get your hair done because “Omigosh how can you not see that grey?! Look closer!” and they all at different times, without conferring with each other respond, “I don’t see any grey.”
Only Oprah can bring Letterman and the NBC “L” guy (who is not Conan but should be) together on a couch for chips. I bet she could also bring about world peace. Or at the very least, bring Conan back to my tv!
First you slip, then you fall. But sometimes, love and family catch you before you do either.
February 7, 2010
Here it is Sunday night and all I can think is “Oh, please, do not let this weekend end! I am not ready for Monday!“ I had a great weekend with my family and got a much needed mental break. Last week was hellacious. Horrible. One of the worst I have had in years. I do not want to get into details because suffice it to say that 1) I do not want to relive it and 2) I really don’t want to relive it.
Wednesday was just bad. For reasons I cannot get into (I am just not comfortable sharing since things here have been used against me in my real life), I was thrown into a really bad place. What amazed me was that a very dear friend of mine hundreds of miles away could tell- with only a few words- how bad off I was. In fact, she talked to me until I was doing better. She sent me phone numbers I needed and links to make sure I had some local backup. After seeing that I was doing better but needed to talk to someone in recovery, she reminded me of a mutual friend of ours that would be there for me in a heartbeat if I called him. I sent out an SOS message to him and we were almost immediately on the phone. The timing was not good and I knew he had things to do but he stayed on the phone with me for over an hour just getting me back on track and reminding me of who I am, where I’ve been and how hard I’ve worked. Together they helped get me out of my own head and back to a peaceful place. Two friends in two different states who care enough to come to the aid of a friend.
I have to state the obvious here but I really, really do hate addiction. Here I am with almost 10 years of hard work and recovery and yet there are times when I am just as vulnerable- sometimes I think even more vulnerable- than I was just 10 months or even 1o days clean.
I woke up feeling better and happier on Thursday. I had a good day despite a very difficult morning of struggles and that afternoon was so grateful that Gabby and I were able to spend a couple of hours catching up with good friends. That night it was all throw to hell and everything came tumbling down on my head.
I lost it in a way I have not lost it in years. It was the first time in many, many years that a situation came along that filled me with such despair, pain and desperation that I feared for myself. In my head at that time, I no longer cared about anything but not hurting. I didn’t care about the 10 years of hard work. I didn’t care about anything I have accomplished in the past decade. I didn’t care what it would do to me, my kids or anyone else around me. All I wanted was to not hurt like I was hurting. I wanted to drown myself in the momentary release that being high gave me. All I wanted was to escape. To get away from the life of hell that was baring down on me and about to swallow me whole.
Escape.
Escape.
For the love of all things peaceful, I had to get away from the pain!
I had to let someone know I was going to slip fall hard.
But I didn’t want to say it because right then, right there, I wanted to fall. I wanted to give in. Ten years of saying no when I hurt. Ten years of “talking through it” and “finding alternatives” when I felt horrible. Ten years of staying strong when I really did not want to be. None of that mattered. I was willing to throw it and myself back to hell.
A friend of mine who knew only a third of my story and half of the pain I was in came over and wanted to make sure I cleared out any medications or alcohol in my house. If she knew only half and knew to just come over and get things out of my house, can you imagine how bad I actually was?
Again, there were phone calls- this time it was Do Not Pass Go, Do Not Collect $200, Go Directly to AA.
I talked to people in recovery who got me back on track. I talked to people who really knew me and spilled it out. I talked to friends late into the night. I cuddled up with my kids who saw me almost lose it for the first time ever in their lifetime and let them know I was okay. Cuddled the fear out of them.
I snuggled up with my husband and told him everything. I felt him tense. I knew a part of him wanted to bite his tongue and resist the urge to give me advice. He just listened as I worked through it. I know how hard it is on him when I hurt and feel so hopeless. I know it breaks a part of him every time I feel broken. I know it makes him feel helpless when I let life beat me down and head into a tailspin. But he always stands by me and loves me. He listened. He let me pour it all out. He didn’t judge (me) and didn’t blame (me) but listened, loved and waited for me to work through it knowing he was standing there as my safety net.
Friday, I woke up feeling like I had gone 10 rounds with a heavy weight fighter. I guess in a way I did. I fought my demon.
And I won.
It took a while on Friday to work through things but again, it took talking on the phone with people who really do know me and being with people this weekend who really do accept me for who I am that made me realize that things have to change. For me. For my family. For my sanity and sobriety. Things have to change. And I have hard work ahead of me but I am not alone. I just know things have to change.
In a huge way.
And I have started to take steps to go back to being me and not anyone else’s version of me.
“Always do what you are afraid to do.” Ralph Waldo Emerson
There was a time in my life when I was fearless. I felt almost invincible. I never feared new situations, new people and loved new experiences. The only fear I would readily admit to was my fear of heights. But for the most part, I lived life to the fullest. Fearlessly.
I used to say I don’t know when I became afraid of life but the truth is I can look back and see when it happened. April 6, 1992. I was living my fairytale life. I was young, healthy, married to my best friend and pregnant with our first child. With a picture perfect pregnancy, we eagerly awaited the new addition to our family. On that day we went to what was to be a typical OB check-up. But it became anything but typical. On that day we found out our little boy had died in utero. My idyllic life shattered. I was not invincible. Death could take me by the heart and slam me to the ground. After giving birth to my son, nothing inside me ever felt the same. Life scared me. I knew that everything could change in a heartbeat- or lack of one.
I had changed. My outlook had changed. I was afraid. Not in ways you could always see but in ways that pulled me deeper inside myself. Years later after delivering two very healthy babies, I was living life more fully but never to the fullest.
Maybe that inner fear is one of the reasons I fell so deeply into my addiction. I was a broken, fearful, unhappy woman. The drugs were just an attempt to mask it all. Then somewhere deep inside myself I found the courage to admit I needed help. With a lot of hard work and a lot of help from amazing people who were also beating their addictions, I began to live life more fearlessly. In fact, for a few months, I was fearless again.
I had looked death in the face and kicked it to the curb. With my new found friends, I was living life. I was riding on the back of my friends’ Harleys. I was going to Karoake with them. I was meeting people I would never have met otherwise and seeing a side of life I would never have known. And I embraced it.
A few months into my recovery I became pregnant with my daughter. There was nothing about that pregnancy that was not filled with fear. It went as far as being told that she, too, would probably die before birth.
Enter fear.
My daughter was born perfectly healthy. I searched again for the fearlessness. I began to find it again. I tried to find it in big ways. (I should have been looking for it in small ways.)
When my Mom became so sick and I sat by her side watching her die, Fear took over again. It completely grabbed me by the throat and choked out whatever fearlessness I thought I had found. This time, Fear stayed around much longer. The very core of my being was shaken, tossed around and thrown to the ground.
This year I decided to do something about it. A project- if you will- began to take root in my mind.
The Project
I decided the only way to conquer living fearfully was to do something about it and begin my path to living fearlessly again. One step at a time. One day at a time. I wanted to see if I could do it for at least a month before I openly blogged about it.
One year. A new challenge every day. Nothing huge or outrageous. Just simple acts that help me move forward in an attempt to challenge myself away from the big and little things that can cause me to withdraw or let fear win. This is not an experiment in trying to find perfect happiness in a year. It is just my way of taking small steps, small challenges towards living fearlessly.
Some things will be bigger than others. Some will be as easy as simple acts of kindness. Acts that I would normally think about doing but never actually put into action. I may find inspiration from books, blogs, friends, suggestions, movies, self-help books etc. But every day I will do something to force me outside of my comfort zone a bit. And I know there will be many times I will need to explain why a certain act is stepping outside of my personal comfort zone.
I have been successfully doing this for one month. I have kept a personally diary that I will copy over to the blog as soon as I can so you can follow along. Nothing huge yet.
Here are some examples:
I reached out to a friend from my past where our friendship ended badly and we talked things over. It felt good to let that go.
I went to lunch alone without any props (you know: books, phones for texting etc) and just enjoyed being alone and enjoying myself.
I called a tech service rep just to tell him how much I know his job must be thankless but how much I appreciate that he is on the other end of the phone when things go haywire. (I didn’t even have a tech problem.)
Those of you who know me know I am terrified of mascots in full uniform. At a recent hockey game when the mascot jumped RIGHT IN MY FACE, I did not scream, run or cry. I actually reached out and touched him. (I missed the photo op but do have witnesses.)
See? Simply things. Small steps. Hopefully big results when all is said and done. It may seem crazy but if you know me, that is nothing new.
Learning to find the courage to live fearlessly!
I am open to your challenges. Bring ‘em on. Now, nothing that is illegal or involves nudity. No ONE wants that. What do you suggest? Challenge me. One thing a day- some big, some small and some just random acts of kindness that we all think about doing but rarely follow through with. They can even be daily steps towards a bigger goal. (Jogging? Queries? World Domination? Kicking out Leno and bringing back Conan? You get the idea.)
You see, what I hope to find at the end of 2010 as I ring in 2011 is a Jennifer who lives life fearlessly.
Are you with me on this journey? Do you want to join me on this project as I take a jump off the high dive one day at a time? I’m climbing the ladder and am ready to jump!
—
(I will add the link the the daily challenges as soon as I get them all written up from my journal to my computer. BUT, I will keep you updated here until then. Just so you can help hold me accountable. Are you in?)
Right before school started in August, my daughter’s best friend moved away. She only moved 3 hours away, but it certainly wasn’t local anymore. I’ve watched how this has changed Gabriella. It is in subtle ways that unless you know her, you may not see it.
She seems a little lost, I hear close friends of ours say.
She and her best friend met the first day of kindergarten and formed a bond immediately. It’s not like they were joined at the hip 24/7, but they did a lot of things together. When they were apart they still knew someone always had their back. They knew that in any new situation or circle of friends, there was always someone they could count on and lean on or just simply have the comfort of knowing they would be there.
Where is my safety net to catch me when I fall or my tether to keep me grounded? I see her wonder.
I have talked to her about it a few times. She usually just shrugs and moves on, unable to find the words to express what she feels or misses or is searching for.
I get it! I tell her
You see, Gabriella’s best friend’s mom was one of my best friends. She was my safety net. My tether to keep me grounded. The one I knew always had my back. The friend where I could always and would always be myself.
She seems a little lost. They say about me.
I do for myself what I try to convince Gabriella to do: Branch out. Let yourself be open to new friends. Accept invitations to be with new people. Let your guard down a little bit. Okay, let your guard down a lot.
But where is my safety net to catch me when I fall or my tether to keep me grounded? I don’t know anymore!
One thing she has learned even though she is only in third grade is people form their “tribe” early. Most of the girls in her class have been going to the same school for 4 years now. They have their best friends and their tribes. It isn’t written but it is there. She’s made new friends. She’s joined new groups. Yet, she still searches for her tribe. She searches for where she belongs somewhat afraid to let her guard down without knowing someone has her back. I see her searching and wish I could just plunk her down in a group and let her feel “established” there. But, I can’t do that. She has to find her place and her tribe on her own. And it hurts to watch.
It is no different with me. Try as I might, I cannot fit into the tribe that I am around the most either. I try to accept invitations (when offered), I try to join in on the laughter (when it isn’t an inside joke) and I try to open myself up and not keep them at arms length.
Apparently, I am not very good at it. At not keeping people at arms length. No matter how hard I try. I can’t help but wonder if maybe jumping in the way I did was the wrong thing to do.
Maybe I am just a loner and just really put that vibe out there.
Maybe I am incapable of social interaction that lasts longer than a lunch.
Maybe it is the addict in me that doesn’t know how to just let go and get involved.
Or maybe I just really don’t fit in.
I don’t know.
What I do know is that I would give anything for my daughter to be happy and for me to figure out the secret to leaving loneliness behind and embracing new friendships. For now, I will do what I always do…the only thing I know to do: Smile and laugh and never let ‘em know it hurts. (Well, that and start looking at places for a fresh start.)
I was touched by the outpouring of love I received when I mentioned it was the anniversary of the day my Mom died. People both close to me and casual acquaintances left me words of encouragement through emails, Facebook or phone calls. I, of course, chose to hibernate the day away. I did not want to pretend to be happy or act as if nothing was wrong. It is just easier to do that when you only have your dog and your son at home with you. One doesn’t ask questions and the other already knows the reason for sudden tears.
More than one person asked me to share a favorite memory of Mom to help me think of the good times and make me smile. I love that idea. But to choose one favorite memory would be impossible. I suppose I would have to chose one thing I am most thankful for when it comes to something Mom ensured that my brother, my sister and I all had the ability to do without effort or falseness: The ability to laugh no matter what is going on around us.
You want the humor? We can bring the humor. Sometimes it happens to be at inappropriate times, inappropriate places or under inappropriate circumstances, though. Mom used to call those the “church giggles.”
Here is your lesson in “church giggles.”
Something strikes you as amusing (real or just a passing thought) at a time when you should not be laughing and the next thing you know, you start to giggle. The more you try to stop, the harder it is and the more you’re giggling. Before you know it tears are streaming down your face as your shoulders are shaking and people around you are wondering if you have lost your mind or are having some sort of fit. The “church giggles” can strike at any time in any places. Just know that it will be a time or place when laughter is usually not “the thing to do” at that time. Funerals are a classic place to get the “church giggles.” Or? When someone is giving a speech (not a funny one either) and you begin to feel the need to giggle and cannot stop it, you should brace yourself for the full on giggles. Don’t bother to apologize while in this state. That only makes the laughter worse and harder to stop.
It has happened to me at, yes, funerals as well as PTA meetings, meetings with school administrators, speeches (both by strangers and friends alike), as well as just every day, average situations that do not call for laughter.
The best example of the “church giggles” was during Mary Tyler Moore on the Episode “Chuckles Bites the Dust.” Here is a part of the show. The giggles start around the 3 minute mark. The clip is long but the roller coaster emotions sure do fit me to a tee on this day. That whole show with its inappropriate jokes and laughter mirror my life. Well, except knowing anyone who was “shelled by an elephant” thing.
But it isn’t just laughing at inappropriate times. It is laughing at whatever life throws at you. I have laughed sitting beside more hospital beds than I can count. I can find humor in the situation. I have laughed when it seems as if there is nothing funny. Trust me, something is funny and can be found. You need someone to help you find the funny, come sit by me. We’ll laugh.
Never was it more evident than when my brother, my sister and I were all together in December. We laughed at everything. We laughed at each other. We laughed at ourselves. We laughed at our family. We laughed at strangers. We probably even laughed at you! The point is this. Mom gave each one of us something special that is unique to each of us but she gave all of us something that we can share with each other and with those around us: The ability to laugh in life’s face. And, oh boy, do we laugh!
That’s what I remember (and carry with me) most when it comes to Mom.
It’s time to find what was lost and build what was broken.
January 1, 2010
I knew it was happening. I could feel it. I could see it. Sometimes you know. Yet, even knowing doesn’t mean you can do anything about it. Maybe it started when Mom died. Maybe it started before then. I don’t know. But it really came to fruition in 2009. I lost myself. I lost who I was. I lost the core of what made me a happy, healthy person. I really don’t think it is important to know when or why or even how. What matters is that I finally reached yet another rock bottom where I have to make changes. And? I am going to make this the year that I do it. Why this year? No reason except…I absolutely have to do it. For me. For my kids. For my husband. For my friends. But honestly, it is really for me.
I guess you could say I lost my way in a few areas: Blogging, personally, writing. They all intertwine so when one goes south, it can carry the rest with them.
I will start with the most obvious one to those of you who are reading this.
Blogging
Wow. The face of blogging has changed so dramatically I couldn’t even find the words for it if I tried. (And I have tried.) You see, way back in the stone ages (like 1990), I helped my husband with a BBS. That was what I knew of the Interwebs. I loved it. I could sit in the comfort of my house and actually talk to people that were in their house. Amazing. We had games, forums and chats. I loved it! By 1993, I was learning more about what was out there and saw that it was more than just for tech geeks. In 1995/96, I learned the wonder of online journals. (Thank you Al Gore for inventing the amazing Internet!) I had a sleepless baby which led to many nights of feedings and surfing. It was then that I branched away from what my husband was doing and started my own online journal. After time, it morphed into a website with real live links to other websites. I was connected, baby! I kept my website and journal going in one form or another for years.
It was in 2003 that I started what you find here: Mommy Needs Coffee. From Blogger to my own url, I had found my very own space on the Internet. I loved it! I wrote stories about my kids, my life, my observations on both and people came. They actually showed up and read what I had to write. Which of course led me to their blogs where I read what they had to say and commented. It was a small but fun community. A blogger get together meant you all showed up to chat and “hang out” online. You knew that other bloggers had your back when it came to haters. It was fun. I knew where I fit in to the small part of the big picture.
I blogged on while others quit.
I blogged on when there was a huge controversy over whether or not to accept ads.
I blogged on when the term “mommyblogger” was synonymous with fluff and narcissism. I still knew who I was and where I belonged.
I blogged on through the “review or not review” controversy. I blogged because to me it was gratifying and gave me a wonderful outlet for my writing, my thoughts and my silliness. Through my blogging I found friends, jobs and an agent. I also lost friends. Sometimes the written word can do more damage than good. But through it all, I knew who I was and where I belonged. Though the landscape had changed, the core was the same. Many of us who were blogging for a long time felt the growing pains but blogged on.
And then came the Big Change. I don’t really know when the big change actually occurred or what caused the massive shift in blogging, but it shook the core of blogging to the roots. Are you a review blogger or a writing blogger? Are you both? Can you be both? Do you have content that is yours or paid for content? Can I trust you or are you being paid to say what you say? Where are the stories? Where is the writing that drew me into this amazing blogging world?
More than once I tried to express myself but it was shouting into the wind. The noise level was too high. The chatter was too loud. Old voices were drowned out. At least I felt mine was. I no longer knew where my place in the blogging world was. I was a mom. I blogged. I helped bring respect to the term “mommyblogger” with both my writing and the mommybloggers.com site. Yet, I could not identify with what was not being called “mommyblogger” in the crazy changes taking place. It was all about reviews and blogger junkets and what trips you were invited on and what speaking engagements or sponsorships you could garner. It was insanity.
At least it was from the point of view from someone who had been at this for so long. Yes, I was invited on some blogger junkets. I did go when it worked for my family. When it did not, I would have to pass and offer up a name or two of someone who would be able to go and enjoy it. Yes, I did reviews for products I could use and enjoy. And, yes, I did enjoy that, too. I am not against any of that. It was just that somewhere in there the writing, the stories, the real life of the bloggers became over-shadowed. I missed reading stories.
Let’s not even get into the pressure to measure up.
“Were you invited to ______ junket?”
“Did you get an invite to go to Disney?”
“Were you asked to be on this panel of experts?”
“Did you get a free ______?”
What?
Had it become a competition? What are the rules? Where is the master list of A-Listers who go on these things? Do I need to pursue these PR reps or just hope they find me? What about my SEO? Where do I rank? Why isn’t that company talking to me? Push! Push! Push! Get out there so everyone knows your blog! Get known so you can go on trips! Become an expert in mommyblogging so every PR firm in the country wants you!
What?
I was lost. All I wanted to do was write and enjoy the writing of others. Yes, of course the trips, the games, the products, the gaming systems and other things I was honored to review are an awesome perk IN ADDITION TO the writing. But where did an old school blogger who just wanted to write and enjoy it fit in? SEO meant nothing to me. Getting aggressive and going after sponsorships for conferences was foreign to me. Telling a PR rep that I should go on his/her junket felt rude to me. Suddenly, I just didn’t fit in to the very genre that I help give a good name to when it was once just mud. Now what?
I stopped blogging. I couldn’t find my voice. Do I write for the readers, the PR reps, the possible job offers? Could I just write my blog the way I have always written my blog and not get lost in all of the noise and chaos that was around me? I have seen good friends of mine who have been at this blogging gig as long as I have succeed. They write a good blog and get invited to junkets and do reviews. They found their place. Why couldn’t I find mine?
So I stopped blogging.
Then, for reasons I will never know but am more thankful for than I could put into words, I was contacted for a blogger opportunity in DC. I had not blogged in ages. In fact, I almost turned it down. Thankfully, my good friend Dave would not give up on me and just flat out booked my ticket for me. He may never know what that meant to me. Forced into a situation where I wanted to go and felt that I should go, I actually embraced this blogger junket with excitement (and a bit of trepidation). I was not on anyone’s A-list anymore. I was no longer a blogger with a name. I was just a blogger who may or may not update that very few people really knew about or read. But somewhere deep inside I knew that I absolutely had to go on this trip. I had to go.
It was on this trip to DC that I met with the president of A Partnership for a Drug Free America, lobbyists on Capitol Hill, Senators, Congressman, the Five Moms (whom I have met and worked with for a few years already) and, yes, Dr. Drew Pinsky.
That one trip changed everything. Everything. How is it that one person (though so very qualified in his field and so very used to dealing with addicts and the bullshit and baggage they throw down) could meet me, have a few conversations with me and then say to me the very things I HAD to hear? Not things I wanted to hear or would benefit from hearing, but the very things I HAD to hear to move forward. That one trip– and it came through my blog– was life changing.
And? It made me question the things I do and why I do them. Including blogging. (And writing.) I can’t share what he said to me. Not yet. But trust me when I say that after almost 10 years in recovery, no one has ever nailed down my issues as fast, as accurately and as matter-of-fact as Dr. Drew did. He really hit a spot that not only no one else has hit, no one else has even seemed to see it.
It made a difference. A huge difference.
It made me stop and think.
Where do I fit in?
Do I want to fit in?
Is there a place for someone so old school as myself?
Can I still do this and be true to myself and what I want out of a blog?
Do I blog for me or for the new faces in the crowd that may be watching/reading/taking note?
The answer took a long time in coming. (Which is one of the reasons I have been so quiet here.)
I blog for me.
For me.
Me.
If someone thinks it is good and wants to comment, I love that! If a PR rep thinks I am a good fit for their product or junket, we will talk. If someone out there likes what I have to say well enough to add me to some random list of “Top Bloggers”, then that is up to them.
For now, this blog, this writing, these stories are for me.
If you enjoy them, that makes my heart so happy. If you don’t, there are so many blogs out there I am sure you will find one you enjoy. However, for now, I shall make this blog what it once was: My outlet. My place to share stories and observations on life, love and motherhood. I hope you stick around but if you don’t, I understand. Old school blogging and story telling isn’t for everyone.
Wow. No posts since October? What happened? Did life get in the way or something?!
Yes. And or something.
Short version:
Flu
Pneumonia
H1N1
Pneumonia
DC Trip
ER
ER
PTA
Book
Homeschool
ER
Book
PTA
Wedding
Nervous Breakdown
PTA
That is about what my life has been like for the past few months.
However, when I got an email from someone dear to me who told me they were sad I shut the blog down, that made me sad.
Sooooo, here I am. Give me a chance to figure out life, blogging and…well, life. Because none of those are the same anymore and I am seriously struggling to find my way and my place in it all.
Here is a token picture of me and Gabriella taking a break during a snowball fight in Katy the day before my Dad’s wedding. (I know the rules of blogging. Pictures make people forgive lack of posting.) And, yes, I did say my Dad’s wedding.
Enough snow to make snowballs and get soaking wet.
I went to DC to take “The Hill” and DC took my breath away- Meeting the Five Moms and Dr. Drew
October 25, 2009
When I was contacted by Edelman –the PR firm who represents the CHPA (Consumer Healthcare Products Association) and Five Moms– to attend meetings in Washington DC, it was a no-brainer for me as to whether or not I would say yes. (I would.) I have been in contact with the Five Moms organization since I first met them two and a half years ago. Seeing as it fell during Red Ribbon week in the month of October which also happens to be National Medicine Abuse Awareness Month and I happen to be a recovering addict, it all seemed to be fated to come together. When my daughter became so sick, I almost didn’t go. I almost missed the opportunity of a lifetime for myself. But she began to get better, my husband stepped up to offer support and I was able to go on this amazing journey to DC. I was able to see things, hear things and meet people who would quite literally change my life.
I cannot tell you how many times I have sat myself down in front of this computer to write about my visit to DC only to stare at the screen unable to find the any words to share what a wonderful experience I had. And then sometimes the words come rushing at me so fast I can’t seem to sort them out. Do I start by sharing the facts? Do I tell you first about the people I met or the things I learned? Should I share the informative nature of my trip or the deeply emotional level?
I realize I will never get to the informative part until I wade through the emotional part. And for me, there was very little about this trip that was not emotional.
As a recovering addict with 9 years, 7 months, and 18 days (but who’s counting) without falling back into my drugging ways, I take anything that has to do with drug abuse awareness seriously. The chance to go to DC to meet with a group of people as passionate about this as I am was beyond amazing. I knew I was going to go to DC with bloggers Caroline and Janice and meet with the Five Moms and that was enough to excite me. Then they threw in the president of Partnership for a Drug Free America and the passionate people at CHPA and I felt like I would jump out of my skin with anticipation. Do they stop there? No they let us know we will be meeting with Congressmen while the Five Moms and CHPA encourage them to learn more and make changes that are just “common sense” to laws regarding OTC medication. Could it get better for me?
I didn’t think so.
While I was literally crackling with the energy in the room that first night at dinner, they announced their special guest who would not only be joining us for dinner that night but would also be joining us on Capitol Hill the next morning. Dr. Drew Pinsky. That did it. That sent me over the edge into tears. Being the always demure and subtle person I am, I blurted out to the crowded room, “Shut! Up!”
Some people may not understand why I would react emotionally to meeting Dr. Drew in person. I have tried to come up with another analogy that may make some sense to people. I know many people know Dr. Drew and may recognize him from VH1’s Celebrity Rehab. I suppose it would be similar you being an actor and being able to sit down and talk with James Lipton of the Inside the Actor’s Studio. To have him zero in on something about you that is exactly the right thing at the right time that no one else has shared before but puts all the pieces of the puzzle together. He is a mentor, a supporter and someone you admire. Someone who “gets you” in a way “outsiders” just don’t. Okay, so it might be a bad analogy but it was the best I could come up with. (Janice jokingly compared it to a Christian meeting Billy Graham.) However you want to look at it is fine with me as long as you can grasp that it is not a celebrity thing. It is about an addict and a person who does amazing work with and in support of addicts.
In a night that I thought would simply be the kick off to an amazing trip to support the Five Moms and StopMedicineAbuse.org, it became something deeply personal. I am wrapping my mind around conversations I had that night and I will share them with you. I promise.
Right now, I want you to go visit StopMecineAbuse.org and familiarize yourself with it. I want you to meet the Five Moms and read their stories. I want you to go to CHPA and see what they do. Familiarize yourself with Partnership for a Drug Free America. Those are the ones this trip was really about. I will share with you what I learned– the facts about OTC medicine abuse that I learned from these amazing people I met and I will share the personal with you as well.
Because as much as I try, I cannot separate the two. In my life they are too tied together.
A fairytale about how I love my Frigidaire stove top range and microwave
October 18, 2009
So let me tell you a little story about a woman who was hopeless in the kitchen but found true love with a new stove and microwave.
You see, this woman became very grumpy every day about 2 hours before dinner time because she knew she had to cook. She hated to cook. Every time she made an attempt at a good and nutritious mean, she usually burned it. Her favorite dinner was ordering Chinese food or pizza to avoid the tears– both those of her family and herself. Her stove was old, dirty and never heated up properly. Her microwave burned popcorn yet couldn’t thoroughly reheat a meal. And? That microwave didn’t even have a proper handle. This woman was sad. So very sad!
One day she was offered a chance by Mom Central and Frigidaire to test drive a new stove top range and microwave. The woman was overjoyed! Could this be the miracle she had been waiting for? Was it less of a curse than it was just very poor appliances that made her such a menace in the kitchen? She could hardly wait to meet her new friends Mr. Microwave and Mrs. Range.
My Frigidaire fairies deliver my dreams!
The day came when her magic fairies came to bring her new appliances to her. She gasped with pleasure over their beauty. A chorus of cheers went up around the house as her old appliances were sent packing and her new ones were gently placed in her kitchen. She was almost too afraid to touch them.
Before she could doubt herself, it was dinner time. That fateful time of night when she would cry or call someone to delivery nutrition for her family. That night this woman cooked. She cooked a real meal. And there was much rejoicing because Frigidaire made this process painless, easy and a joy to do.
Oh, this woman knew she would never look back on her cursed cooking life again. Not when she had her new loves in her kitchen: Mr. Microwave and Mrs. Range. There was much rejoicing in her home as her family began to get used to smelling non-burned food and nutritional goodness coming from their kitchen.
And this woman? This woman who hated cooking so much? She is still–months later– madly in love with her Frigidaire Range and Microwave.
So many of you have emailed or asked me on Facebook how Gabriella is doing. She is still sick. She is still baffling doctors. We are still waiting on test results.
The first phone call came yesterday saying she is dehydrated and has pneumonia. And? They are waiting on more test results from her blood to find more answers. Oh, the agony of watching my poor baby girl while the amazing nurses tried to draw blood from her dehydrated body. I know how much it hurt her. She was such a trooper! I cried just a bit watching but never when she saw me. They said they were still waiting on some blood work results to come back but one of the results showed inflammation in her body but not what they would see with pneumonia. (So what is it?) Her ears hurt but they see no sign of infection. Yet, she hurts and cannot hear very well at all. They “see” no reason for that.
I want answers.
The second call came today saying they were not sure about the pneumonia. (I saw the x-ray. Her lungs definitely had something going on there.) When I questioned it, I was told the nurse would call me back. She, too, saw in inconsistencies with chart results. I insisted that it was the doctor that needed to call. I wanted to talk to her doctor and make him explain what is going on with my baby girl. The doctor never called me back.
I want answers!
We are going on day 8 of a fever that does not go below 100 degrees and topped off at 104.7. I know fevers are meant to fight the germs but this is too long. I give her ibuprofen around the clock and her fever goes down to near 100. But doesn’t break. It only broke a few hours on Saturday. Then it shot back up.
I want answers now!
She doesn’t want to eat. She doesn’t want to drink. (Though I am pouring Gatorade and water in her around the clock.) She even refuses to eat a Popsicle.
She is breaking my heart. All she wants is to sleep and lay on the couch. Many times with me there. Most of the time just alone and in a zone. She is fighting something we don’t know about. She is battling an enemy where our only weapon is antibiotics and hope that it works.
I want answers now from someone!
And of course I am exhausted so when this song I love and have heard a million times came on the radio tonight, I pulled over and sobbed. A phrase here and there sucker punched me. (I know the song is about something more serious that we (think) we are battling, but the words got to me anyway.)
By the light of the moon
She rubs her eyes
Sits down on the bed and starts to cry
And there’s something less about her
And I don’t know what I’m supposed to do
So I sit down and I cry too
But don’t let her see
