I make lists.

• I babysat Charlie today and had such a good time.  He is such a good baby.
• I can't stop Christmas shopping.  I am spending money that I need to pay on bills, but I want to buy Ray every.thing.  Because he deserves it.  But he also deserves to have bills paid.  
• I saw Garth's new project this weekend.  It was nice to see that he has finally collaborated with a female, it was weird to find that they covered one of our songs.  A song that was going to be our wedding song.  Disturbing.
• I shopped until I dropped on Black Friday.  I do this because I am so poor that I need the sales.  It's a vicious cycle....
• Our first gluten free Thanksgiving was a success!  
• I have put off all of my homework over the long weekend and have to spend tonight catching up.
• I have made a ton of money every single shift I have worked in the last two weeks.  
• I need to put up our Christmas tree.  
• There is stuff going on every weekend until Christmas....and I kind of want a break from it all.
• I secretly cannot wait for it to snow.  

I am a fan of Adele's.

Interesting.  This video was filmed at the exact place we stopped when we toured Paris, France.  I have photos of the Eiffel Tower from this perspective.  I love this song.

Today we give thanks.

I have so much to be grateful for, it is overwhelming.  I have so much support from everyone in my life - it is simply astounding.  From my parents to my regular customers, the scope of my support is just ridiculous.  If I were to list out every single person I would be writing forever.  This year has been such an obstacle, such a struggle.  In the end, however, I still find myself eternally grateful for my life and all of those that I love.  I am still so grateful to have experienced the miracle of child birth and my first born.  Without all of these horrible outcomes, I am not sure I would be as thankful as I am. 

Happy Thanksgiving, my friends.  I hope I have given you half as much as you all have given me.

Blogging on the go

I finally got my iphone4. I can start blogging from here. Hells yea.

Ode to Ray

Never thinkWhat's in your heartWhat's in our homeSo I won't
You'll learn to hate meBut still call me babyOh LoveSo call me by my name
And save your soulsave your soulBefore you're too far goneBefore nothing can be done
I'll try to decide whenShe'll lie in the endI ain't got no fight in meIn this whole damn worldTelling you to hold offShe said hold onIt's the one thing that I've known
Once I put my coat onAnd how I know it's all wrongShe's standing outside holding meSaying oh pleaseI'm in loveI'm in love
Girl save your soulSave your soulBefore you're too far goneAnd before nothing can be done
'Cause without meYou got it allSo hold onWithout me you got it allSo hold onWithout me you got it allWithout me you got it allSo hold onWithout me you got it allSo hold onWithout me you got it allSo hold onHold on

The day that I went into labor I was 160 pounds.  After I gave birth I was down to 140 pounds.  I remember being so insecure because I still had a belly that looked pregnant.  I did not want to leave the house, and finding clothes to wear that didn't make me look pregnant was difficult.  I think I struggled more with the self image because I was not frolicking around with a beautiful newborn and I was terrified that, 1. Someone would ask me if I were pregnant (or when I was due) or 2.  If I had just had a baby (and where was said baby).  I was only ten pounds more than my pre-pregnancy weight, but it still sucked to look pregnant.  Not to mention my engorged breasts that were lactating constantly (that just basically added insult to injury).  Anyway - this is where my issues with my body began.

When I was sick I was dropping weight at a startling rate.  It was insane.  I had lost 12 pounds one week and 15 the next.  I weighed 118 pounds when I was diagnosed with Celiac.  I looked so gross - so sick.  I am sure 118 would have looked better if I was not so malnourished.  Nonetheless, I was able to put on eight pounds in a few months, and I was starting to look healthy.  In the month of September when I was feeling exhausted, I began to loose a lot more weight.  I was 108 pounds when I was admitted into the hospital.  I remember being so self conscious about my body.  My boobs had become so small that I wanted to leave my shirt on even when I was having sex.  I wore a size 3 in jeans and even that was too big.  I would get bruises on my spine if I sat on a hard chair for too long.  I was a mess.

I have been diagnosed and "healthy" for nearly two months now.  I am now at 135 pounds.  This is a healthy weight for me.  I am, however, continuing to pack on the pounds pretty steadily.  My doctors are saying this is from my insulin and hypo thyroid.  I have never been more self conscious than I am now.  I cannot seem to find a comfortable weight and it seems impossible that I would be able to maintain it if I could. 

I am not happy thin and I am not happy thick.  This is what society and media has done to women.  What the fuck.

• Today is Beatrice and Dexter's birthday.  They are 3 years old. 
• I cannot believe it has been 3 years since I lived at Hillcrest (well, 2.5 - but whatever)
• I am super hungry right now, but cannot eat because of my stupid diabetes.
• I should have ate more than stupid fries for dinner.  (It was my only gluten free option at the time)
• I wish my hair would grow a little faster.  I have a hairstyle I want to try out.
• I get super jealous sometimes when I look at pregnant women.  I want to kick them in the crotch and tell them that their story might turn out super shitty too.
• I am working on the above in therapy.
• I cried today in Philosophy when we were discussing the existence of God and why God allows evil.  The example the Prof. made us discuss was why God allows for babies to die.  I didn't partake in the discussion.  I just sat there and let tears roll down my face.
• I am super excited for Christmas break and I have no idea why.
• I am not looking forward to my birthday and I do not know why.
• I 'liked' a band on facebook today.
• When I realized the band I 'liked' was my ex husbands, I unliked it.
• I want a cigarette super bad right now.

Grumbles.

Dance will always be my first choice.

When I was 18, if I had known this could have been an option for a career for me - I would have never given up dance.  I want to be a B Girl sooo bad.  Sadly, I am more like the girl in the yellow skirt.  I miss performing so much when I watch performances like this.  This is, by far, my favorite performance of anything - ever.  You should watch it a few times to catch all of the amaze-ness.

Giving credit where credit is due.

After this semester, I believe that I have about three semesters left of my undergrad.  This means that I only have one semester before I have to decide whether to apply to Graduate School or Law School.  If I choose to apply to Law School, then I must begin to prepare for my LSAT test.  This fact is utterly absurd to me.  I still feel like a child in the fifth grade.  How is this even a possible scenario for me?  I digress.

I have done a pretty awesome job at scattering out my classes so that I am not taking all 400 level classes at once.  I mix up my senior classes with some two and three hundred level classes for sanity purposes.  I have not taken the default classes that everyone seems to take (and hate), when required to fulfill things like the visual literacy requirement, etc...  This means that this semester I took a 200 level theater art class rather than some crappy 100 level visual literacy class.  I will admit, it was very intimidating at first being that I am not, and have never been - an artist.  We have multiple art projects due throughout the semester which we have to present - in front of the class.  Ouch.  My first presentation, during my presentation, my professor asked me if I was an Art major.  I laughed and just blew him off, I mean....what is he thinking?  It is now the end of the semester and our projects have become more demanding and much much more detailed.  I am now asked to actually draw things.  I have spent time drawing multiple things required for the course.  Faces, clothing, etc...  I was shocked to see how well I have done.  I left my drawing pad on the table in the family room.  I asked Ray last night if he had looked at my drawings.  Indeed, he did and he mentioned that they were really good.  I think we were both surprised at my artistic abilities.  I said to him, "Babe.  I didn't even know that I could draw!"  He replied, "You didn't think you could cook either, but you can do that well too!  I just don't think that you try."  .......I just don't think that you try.  He is absolutely right.  I do not give myself enough credit.  I have never given myself enough credit.

And with that thought, I have decided to give Law School a try.  I have proven over and over that, if I put my mind to something - and actually try - I do really really well.  Every semester I have come out with a 3.8 - 4.0 GPA.  I have gotten my GPA up from a really pathetic score (from when I was a stupid 18 year old who totally fucked up) just by really trying.  I just need to try.  I cannot let fear of failure to keep me from trying.  Because failing is okay as long as I really tried.

I have not really voiced my desire for this in any sort of serious manner to anyone other than Ray.  Not even an hour after our conversation, Ray had already gotten my LSAT practice tests to me.  I have decided to make my Christmas Break my start to really prepare for the test.

Gulp....nervous.

And yet another song that appropriately goes with the blog.

Sissies.

I just got off of the phone with my sister, Traci.  It has been nearly four years since I have seen her and my nephews.  It has been such a crazy four years. 

Traci and the boys will be coming up for the holidays.  I really cannot wait.  With Dominic not being here as planned, it will be a really nice distraction having my nephews to spoil.  Zachary is 15 now.  I was 15 when he was born.  He's such a young man now, it is so bizarre.  My how time flies.

I knew that I missed them, I really did.  I guess I didn't realize how much. 

Us three girls will have a day to spend together.  Probably filled with laughing, crying, a tattoo, and a massage.  We really need a sister day.  Badly.

I miss Buddy terribly.  I am so tired of missing things.  I am tired of disappointment.  I want to have him again.  I cannot even describe how much it hurts to know he is just 5 minutes away, and I cannot see him. 

This fucking sucks.

Today is Matt's birthday.  Ugh.

theraputic perception

I have participated in therapy a total of three times in my life.  By this, I mean three different occasions throughout my life. 

The first time that I went to therapy I was 17 years old.  My parents had just separated and my sister had just "come out of the closet".  I had been caught drinking a few times (by the police - not parents) and had obtained a few drinking ticket.  I was put on probation until I was 18 years old.  One night, as I was babysitting my mentally and physically profoundly retarded brother, my friend and I drank an entire bottle of my mom's whiskey.  When my mother returned home, she found my brother in the house alone, my friend in the front yard throwing up, and me - walking laps around the yard so that I would not throw up.  This was when my mother threw me into therapy.

My therapist was horrible.  Even at the age of 17 I knew this.  We never really talked about me.  I am pretty sure I had only gone to therapy three times and each time, I was able to manipulate the conversation so that we ended up talking about her.  Either she was just out of school, or I was really just that good.  Either way, I got nothing out of therapy.

The second time that I took part in therapy was when my marriage was in shambles.  We did couples therapy and I had gone to my own therapy.  I had gone to only a few sessions of my own personal therapy, as I had felt (at the time) that I really did not need it.  I did, however, like the therapist that we had for our couples therapy.  She was older and almost always on my side (which is probably why I liked her so).  I remember one day she looked at me and asked, "Erin, do you ever feel like Garth acts 'holier than thou'?"  Indeed I agreed with her.  Ever since that day, Garth hated her and wanted to switch out.  Even after I admitted to the affair, Garth still felt she 'liked' me better.  Regardless, the reason we stopped going to see her was because Garth did not like her anymore and I am sure there was some underlying defeat that Garth and I both felt in our marriage.  So we just stopped going.  I did go to Garth's therapist, once, because Garth wanted me to meet with him so give him a different perspective on all of our drama.  This was about one or two weeks after Nikki and I got into a bar brawl.  I am sure, no - I take that back.  I am positive that the therapist thought Nikki and I, both, to be absolutely insane.  I felt like a complete nut job telling the therapist about his client.  I looked like the nut job because I was the one 'fighting' for our marriage.  Even fighting his girlfriend.  I just know that I looked insane and I am sure I made Garth look even worse.

The third time (and standing) I have been to therapy is when Dominic died.  I finally found a therapist that I love.  It is the first time I have really unpacked all of my baggage and laid it out all over the table for someone.  From my parents divorce, all of the drug use, the drinking, the sex, my marriage, my divorce, my husbands girlfriend, Ray and I's family, Dominic's death - everything has been laid out.  All of it.  She has taught me coping mechanisms and relaxation techniques in my times of anxiety and sadness.  It works.  I will leave there sometimes completely exhausted from intense weeping, but it works.  I began going every week.  Every single week, I would meet with her and she would talk me through my completely overwhelming sadness.  Then, I got a little bit better and we started seeing each other every other week.  I have a few more sessions and I will be to once a month. 

My therapist had to take a family medical leave for a few weeks.  She called today to set up our future appointments and we talked about why she was on a leave of absence.  I knew her and her husband were going to Montana for their yearly vacation to ride horses, but I had not heard anything from her since.  I found out today that her husband was bucked off of his horse miles away from anyone and he broke his neck.  Luckily, there was a doctor in their group,  She stabilized him until the ambulance would get there.  It took three hours for an ambulance to get there and nearly eight hours before anyone told my therapist that her husband was going to survive.  She has been tending to his every need and he is doing much better, today. 

I have been through a lot.  This I cannot deny.  But I cannot imagine what she had gone through.  How horrible.  It is times like these or stories like that, when you think that life just could not possibly get any shittier, when you realize that - in fact, it can always get worse.  And it really, really makes you grateful for the situation you are in.  Perspective is an interesting thing.  Everything changes when you look at it from a different perspective.  It is sad that more people don't take the opportunity to do that more often.  I think the world would be a really different place if they did.