Chop chop

Chop chop

Ok, so I did one of those Brazilian Keratin Treatments that straighten and smooth your curls/frizz out.

I’m still not sure about it. I don’t hate it, I don’t love it. It’s just there.

I have always had an expectation management problem and this was no exception. I thought I would do this treatment and my life would change. Stupid, I know. That’s vanity for you.

Meg’s friend Erin, who recommended the treatment, warned me I’d feel like Cher for the first few days. The hair SO smooth, close to your head and stick straight. A fact I found hysterically accurate. But it didn’t end after a few days. And I felt like Axl Rose. So, I freaked out and had my hairdresser chop my hair off.

This is how it turned out:

I’m still totally indifferent. It’s weird. I may even have him hack at it some more.

Yes, I am wearing pajamas in the picture. And yes, I am in them usually by 5pm, pretty much every day since I got them in 2 colors a few weeks ago. As well as these comfy slippers. Oh house clothes…how I love you so.

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March VOGUE

March VOGUE

I’m not even halfway through the March issue but I found myself scribbling notes on college lined paper at the kitchen table.

I smiled while doing it.

I miss writing longhand. I like to write in cursive with a really great pen.

So, here I sit transcribing my notes into a blog post. Funny. It reminds me of college when I would take scraps and bits of paper I had scribbled ideas for short stories on and turn them into something.

 

Adele is on the cover, looking gorgeous, per usual. (Although, I wish they hadn’t photo shopped her body on the cover. We know she doesn’t have a 20 inch waist, people. And it’s ok. )

 

She is, as you would guess, a great interview, full of vim and vigor. The interview validates why she is so astonishing. She’s brutally honest and claims she really has no idea where all of these beautiful songs come from. They just pour out of her. That type of honesty is inspiring and beautiful. She doesn’t talk about “the craft” or other such bullshit nonsense. She just is. Also, how cool is the fact that Rolling in the Deep came from a gang phrase used in UK? “Roll deep” basically means having someone have your back so you are never on your own if you get into trouble. She thought it was beautiful and changed it to “Rolling in the Deep.” Genius.

“Adele has one of the great dirty mouths of her generation. Get her going on a subject that raises her ire, and the obscenities fly like sparks off a welder.” –Jonathan Van Meter, Adele interview, VOGUE

“…Like sparks off a welder.”  So good.

:::::::

The piece by Cheryl Strayed about her trek on the Pacific Crest Trail has me wanting to rush out and get her memoir: “Wild: From Lost to Found on The Pacific Crest Trail.”

I’m not a climber or really interested in it. It is her writing and her reasons for doing it that intrigued me. She had never backpacked before going on the trip. NEVER. That’s like me deciding to freaking hike the PCT (which, incidentally, took her 3 months and is 1,100 miles. WTF!) And very clearly, she finds herself needing to do it.

My mom died when I was twenty-two and she was forty-five. She died of cancer, but it wasn’t the way I thought a death by cancer would be—long and drawn out and cinematic. Instead, my mother was dead seven weeks to the day after her diagnosis. Her death was simple and ugly and it didn’t feel even remotely like a movie. It felt to me that I had died with her, and in some ways, I did. The vision I’d previously had of my life died. I don’t have a relationship with my biological father and though I had a step-father, he couldn’t continue being a step-father to me in the face of his own loss. And so I wandered forth, suddenly an orphan. – Cheryl Strayed

I understand why she did it with no experience. Why not? After a blow like that, you feel invincible. Not the invincible I felt after giving birth to H&F. That was empowering and invigorating. I felt so STRONG!

My Dad’s death left me numb. Nothing could hurt me.

When talking about her decision to make the trek, Cheryl Strayed says “Nothing bad could happen to me, I thought. The worst thing already had.”

This resonated so deeply with me, that I actually stopped reading for a second to look up, close my mouth and let that thought marinate.

I felt and feel the same way about my dad’s death. It was worse than breast cancer, depression, lupus…His death rocked me to my core. There is definitely a sense of “Nothing scares me now.”

:::::::

And a final thought on the issue: Florence Broadhurst for Kate Spade? Fan-freaking-tastic. A beautiful marriage!

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Showing Up

Showing Up

Hello snowflakes.

I’m so much better.

Oh so much better.

I’m me again. Maybe better. Brighter? Definitely.

It was like a reboot of sorts. Incredibly painful and sucky but I got through it, dammit.

I am badass. Hear me roar.

I feel beyond lucky to have such supportive friends and family. Where would I be without you?

Coinciding with my climb out of the hole of depression is my extreme inspiration from, seemingly everything:

• The endless sky.
• Music – specifically Lenka and Robyn, which have been pulsing from anything that would play music so loud that I could feel it in my skin, letting it seep into my pores and brighten my soul. It works. I swear.
• Art – nothing specific, in fact, most of it is nameless. Graffiti here and there, a well styled print ad, the guy at the bagel shop’s tattoos.
• Books! (exclamation mark intended and necessary) I read Visit from the Goon Squad and Just Kids in the span of 2 weeks and was blown away. I highly recommend both. The story in Goon Squad was creatively woven, I was in a constant state of awe of Jennifer Egan’s talent. Just Kids will stay with me for a good long while. It was intoxicating and ignited somewhat of a creative explosion in my brain. I see things differently after having read it, if that makes sense.  I’m itching to press the book I love so much into the hands of my sister, whom I love so much, knowing she’ll adore it too.
• PGP, HJ and Finny P. Everything I am, I owe to them. They encourage me to “just show up.”

Here’s to more happy days!

xo

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Shell

Shell

I wish I could explain it to people. I try. But you don’t know unless you’ve experienced it. Being pushed off a cliff into the depths of despair.

It can happen regardless of your life situation.

I am happier than I ever have been in my entire life. I have a wonderful life and yet I am depressed.

Really depressed. Not “I’m so depressed my favorite show was cancelled.”

No.

Lying-on-the-floor-staring-at-the-ceiling-while–you-sob-uncontrollably-depressed.

It’s very common with chronic illness. It bound to wear you down being in pain all of the time. I have been on an anti-depressant since shortly after being diagnosed with lupus. And with my recent back surgery, the pain has been endless and seemingly insurmountable.

I know some people think depression is a weakness, that life is sad. That you should be able to buck up and pull yourself out of it.

There is no pulling yourself out of this.

It’s horribly dark and so hopeless and scary.

I just felt empty. Hollow.

I’ve known for a while that my antidepressant wasn’t fully doing its job.

For YEARS my psychiatrist has been trying to get me off of my current antidepressant because he didn’t think it was right for me. I kept saying no. Why rock the boat? I deal with so much medical bullshit and so many other medications that the thought of transitioning to a new medication did not appeal.

Looks like my body made the decision for me. Three days before Christmas.

Ho fucking ho.

As I said, it felt like I had been pushed off a cliff.

And then suddenly, I was drowning.

I was paralyzed. Couldn’t get out of bed. Didn’t want to eat. Couldn’t help with the kids at all. My whole body hurt. I couldn’t think straight.

Luckily, I am married to the ultimate human being and have a superhero bestie who came bearing vegan ice cream sandies and laid in bed with me while I cried. She may as well have been wearing a cape.

I finally got my doctor on the phone, explained the situation and med changes were quickly made.

And now I wait. And experience all of the quirky and horrible side effects that come with transitioning off of one medication and onto another.

***The above was written December 22***

Today is January 6 and just YESTERDAY did I start to feel like me again. I showered and actually left the house. I smiled genuinely for the first time in WEEKS and it felt SO GOOD. I can not even explain the feeling. I was jubilant. I felt free.

I debated whether or not to even post this. While talking to Meg though, she helped me realize it’s not something I’m ashamed of and if anything, posting this will educate someone or help someone else feel like they are less alone.

PS – If you do happen to know someone who is struggling with depression, do not, under any circumstances say anything like this to them “But you’re pretty and skinny. What do you have to be depressed about?” Because you might get punched in the teeth.

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Keeping It Low Key…Still

Keeping It Low Key…Still

Ok, so I had my 2 week follow up appointment with my surgeon today and he assured me everything I am going through is normal. This was validating and I’m sure you can imagine what I had been imagining. Or maybe you can’t. It was dramatic, people.

Upon entering the exam room he said “So, how are we doing?”

Eloquent 38 year old that I am, I said “You didn’t tell me it would suck this bad.”

He laughed uncomfortably.

I’m in a better place mentally though, in less pain..sort of, and have updated my expectation management software to the current (and more realistic) version.

Can I just take a moment to recognize Peter Provost? The guy is a champ. Truly. And I would have been committed to the loony bin had it not been for him these last few weeks. The guy’s phenomenal under pressure. I will miss him being my driver, personal assistant and all around sherpa.

So, I stumbled up on the following advice last year and like a good little nerd, I copied it and put it in my calendar on 12/5/11 with the header “EMILY: READ THIS”. (I love when I do stuff like that) Imagine my delight when I opened it and read what fits PERFECTLY into my desire to “keep it low key”

Enjoy.

(via Blooma Blog – I’m sorry I don’t have the link and now I can’t find it!)

Be in charge of your holiday season. Don't let other people or advertising medium impose their expectations on you. Keep in touch with your deepest feelings.

• Keep it simple. You arrange the pace and space. (So important for keeping your kids sane, too!)
• If the loss of a loved one, financial troubles, or any serious anxiety surround you this holiday, make the season as simple and as positive as possible for yourself.

Holiday Bill of Rights:
• You have the right to take care of yourself: eat right, exercise, and get enough rest.
• You have the right to mixed emotions: happy, sad, frustrated, guilty, afraid, and thankful.
• You have the right to solitude—for planning, thinking, reflection, introspection, prayer, and relaxation.
• You have the right not to accept party or dinner invitations.

So good, right?

Our darling tree is up. A lovely wreath is on the front door. We play Christmas music every day and talk about the excitement of Christmas. I have a few activities planned (Botanic Gardens lights & Denver Gay Men’s Chorus Christmas Show) but other than that, we’re keeping it…say it with me…LOW KEY. And I couldn’t be more delighted.

Sending you some zen and coziness on this lovely Tuesday.

XO

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Enter: Reality

Enter: Reality

Ok, so it turns out I’m a bit of an unrealistic psycho. (shocker, I know.)

It has been one week and 2 days since surgery. I have been diligently conferring with my Dr., whom you may know, Dr. Google, and he agreed that I am an unrealistic psycho and that I need PATIENCE and TIME. This pain is normal. SUCKY but normal and I must be tender and careful with myself.

I knew this.

But Dr. Google has a way of solidifying things, you know? (Word to the wise though, Dr. Google has some patients who are not the kooky, fun kind of psycho (me), who tried to tell me that they had disc surgery too and I was going to end up alone, in a wheelchair, never to walk again, like them. And that we should start a book club.

NEXT!

Ok. Patience. Got it. Will work on that.

In the meantime, I have a confession. I cannot understand or fathom, and am actually quite embarrassed to tell you this.

I watched not one, but TWO seasons, all in a row, of Dallas Cowboy Cheerleaders: Making the Team last night. I stayed up until 1am.

Friends, What. The. Fug? My intention was to watch Melancholia but at the last minute I deemed it, well, melancholic and searched for something mindless.

BINGO!

I’m telling you. I can’t look away. Trying to armchair psychoanalyze myself, the only thing I could come up with was that I grew up in Houston, Texas. When I was little I wanted to be a Dallas Cowboy Cheerleader (the pinnacle of success and beauty – eek gad) or a waitress. BIG DREAMS!! Whatevs. I was like, 6.

Happy happy Friday. Don’t let the holiday crazies grab hold of you. Remember….keep it low key.

gentle movements, peace and pain pills,

Emily

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Low Key

Low Key

Hi kids.

Sigh.

It’s been a while.

I had surgery last week on a herniated disc that has been plaguing me for YEARS. It had just progressively gotten worse and the solutions (injections, PT were doing NADA) so I said “fuck it. do surgery” and proceeded to schedule it for the day before Thanksgiving.

It’s called a minimally invasive lumbar discectomy. Basically, they put me under, make a small incision, cut out the herniated disc part, move the nerve that is unhappy to a happier place and stitch me back up. It was supposed to be outpatient but they couldn’t get my pain under control (awesome!) to send me home so I was admitted for the night.

I am currently in the recovery part, which I hadn’t anticipated would suck balls. There isn’t relief, yet. It’s supposed to come eventually, but of course, Debbie Downer infiltrates my brain and convinces me that there will be no difference. The doc says it will take 6-8 weeks to notice the full difference. It’s been 1 week.

For two weeks there is to be: no bending, lifting or twisting. No lifting anything over 10 lbs. No driving. I can walk all I want, which I have been doing, when I haven’t been sleeping because I’m more tired than I’ve ever been. Add in pain pills and it ain’t pretty.

Yesterday I had a total pity party. Poor Peter. He works from home, so from time to time, I would just show up in his office, shoulders slumped with frowny, borderline cry face on.

Patience, he would say. You’re doing great.

It’s hard to be patient when Christmas buzz whirrs around me and everyone is rushing and talking about how much they have to do! So much to do!

And there’s me.

The turtle.

I know it’s all doable.

And it’s not a race.

My mantra for this month is to keep it low key. Imagine my delight when I received an email from MCA Denver yesterday with this picture attached.

Seriously?

FAB-U-LOUS. (I heart the beautiful naked guy in the grocery cart)

I love it and want it to be our Christmas card. I’m not sending those, by the way. Christmas cards. It’s not low key. Wouldn’t want to mess with the theme.

I just finished Mindy Kaling’s Is Everyone Hanging Out Without Me? (And Other Concerns) thereby cementing the fact that she and I need to be friends. It’s a quick and super hilarious read.

Today, I will be good to myself. And no pity parties. And maybe I’ll shower. Maybe.

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