Running From the Darkness

     I have a stalker. I have been running for my life for the last 15 years. I have been running from a darkness that is deep inside. It is unrelenting. It consumes every moment, every occasion. My stalker is Clinical Depression. Depression is a serious medical condition that inflicts feeling of sadness and anxiety. It's a mood disorder that is the result of chemical imbalances of serotonin in the brain.        Depression has stolen many years of my life. It all started in my early teens. My life was great! I have a loving family, friends. There was no reason for me to feel this way. I didn't know it was depression, I just thought I was down, you know, hormones. By the time I was 17, I was going through these extreme highs and lows. I was either REALLY happy or crying in the fetal position. Hiding it was easy, you just always have to smile. I started obsessing about myself. I was never thin enough, funny enough. I used to stare in the mirror for hours, convinced that my face was uneven.   My Parents noticed my emotional state and my Mom took me to the doctor. They put me on an anti-depressant. I was so ashamed that never took it. 

     Years passed with times of extreme joy and sadness. My early 20's proved to be my time to shine. Went away to college and met some amazing new people, including my Husband. I found that I could  control my depression through drinking. I loved it! It allowed me to escape from myself. While in school I also realized that if I didn't eat, I would look the way I wanted, all while feeling high off of starvation. I lost about 40 pounds in 2 months.
     The depression would go away during times of excitement. Getting married to the love of my life was amazing! However, after the newness went away, the darkness crept back. It was like entering a fog. At first you can see through it but eventually it's all around you and you see nothing. Jeremy did everything he could to try to pull me out. There was nothing he could do to fix it, I had to fix it. I got pregnant with Charley and was so happy! The extra hormones helped to balance out my chemical levels. When I had him I was over joyed! But my hormones came crashing down. I was more depressed then I had ever been in my life. I was so confused. I had no reason to be! I didn't understand. My Mom and Dad came to visit. My Father sat next to me and said, "You don't have to do this alone. I think you need to see a doctor." I did. I went a week later and was put on an anti depressant. After a few weeks I felt amazing! I fog was lifting! There was still a haze but I was able to climb out of it. I have been on 'Happy Pills' now for the last 6 years. They have changed my life. I still have moments but I am able to escape it. I am sharing all this to maybe help someone who is feeling this way. So they can get the help they need. I am able to live a normal life now. There are many avenues to healing. Mine was in the form of an anti depressant. Your's may be different. I don't look back on my past with sadness or shame. I look at it with pride. I was able to fight back and now I know what happiness looks like. Not to say that I don't still struggle, cause I do. This will forever be creeping up on me but now I have the tools today to deal with it.

I found myself in a cloud of donuts...

Disclaimer: This blog entry in not intended to promote weight gain. Weight gain can be unhealthy and dangerous. However this is my story.

     As some of you know, I have always battled with my weight. When I was little, I never had an issue. It wasn't until puberty that it actually started to become a problem. From age 13 to now, 30, it has been a constant fight. In my teens and early 20's I fluctuated 30-40lbs every couple years. I was always able to lose it with in a year or so. However, it wasn't until I had Charley about 5 years ago that it really got hard. Zero wheel power and energy made it almost impossible to get it under control. But this isn't an entry about weight loss, it's about how I found myself in the course of this crazy weight gain extravaganza... 

     If I had to do over these last 5-7 years of my life, I wouldn't change a thing or choose to lose a single pound. With ever pound I gained I was forced to figure out my personality in a world that I was terrified of. I never wanted to be fat! However, I refused to allow myself to become timid and insecure because of my weight. 

     I have to laugh, if you knew me about 10 years ago, I was bit of a brat! I was always saying "I'd never get fat and become like that! I mean, isn't there a limit that "these people"set for themselves that's a rockbottom?!" Oh how young and naive I was. Guess this is me eating my words, among other things. 

     When I was thin, I was actually pretty unhappy. I was in a constant battle with myself. Not happy with who I was and, even though in hindsight I looked good, was unhappy with how I looked. Nothing was ever good enough! There was always more weight I could lose, my hair could always look better, my personality could always be more magnetic. When I gained weight for some reason I was able to see that all that didn't matter. I had the family I had always wanted. I had a husband who loved me no matter what and never said a thing about the weight I gained. His support is unwavering. I also had a beautiful little boy whom I adored. 

     I'm not saying all this as to say, I don't want to lose this weight, I do. Everyday I go to battle with my inner temptations, hoping that it will click and I will discover that magical place where I find the motivation to finally get a handle on this. What I am trying to say is...I'm happy, really happy! I have been able to find out what's really important in my life and who I am in the process. Over time, I will eventually lose the weight I have gained, but, I will never lose what I have learned from the weight I have gained... 

Jeremy and Mr. Wasp...

Sorry, I am still laughing my head off over this. It was the funniest thing I haD ever seen! So here's what happened, most of it is a conversation between the two of us...

I am down stairs in the kitchen when I hear...

Jeremy: Debbie, where's the packing tape?!?

Me: Why?

Jeremy: Where is it?! I need it! 

Me: It's in the bedroom on the dresser.

Jeremy: Come up here, quick!!!!

I run up the stairs to find my husband hiding behind the door to 1 of our guest bedrooms. His pained and freaked out facial expression said it all. 

Me: What's wrong?

Jeremy: LOOK!!!! (pointing to the light with a little black thing flying around it.)

Me: What is it?

Jeremy: A WASP!!!!

Me: Why do you need the tape?

Jeremy: To catch it! 

Suddenly the wasp starts to migrate around the light. I give Jeremy the tape. He places it on the light fixture and RUNS away. 

Me: Huh, what's that gonna do? 

Jeremy: He's going to crawl onto the tape and get stuck. 

The wasp leaps off of the light onto the bed.

Both of us: AHHHHHHH!!!! 

Me: Catch him!!!

Jeremy: Give me something!

I toss him one of his under shirts........

Jeremy: NO, NO, Not my under shirt! Get me a towel! 

I grab a towel, Jeremy lunges towards the wasp with the towel. Cautiously lifting the towel to see if he got the wasp. The wasp is stuck on the towel, still alive.

Jeremy to the wasp: HOW DID YOU GET IN HERE!?!?!?!?!? TELL ME! HOW!?!?!?!??!?!? 

The wasp didn't respond. He took his secret to his grave.... 

(R.I.P. Mr. Wasp)

Regifting

Guilty confession, I have regifted.  My philosophy is, hey, you give me a junky $2 candle set that even you wouldn't buy for yourself, don't be too surprised if you see that same candle set in a brown paper sack at next year's White Elephant Christmas party.

Reenactment: (Names have been changed to protect the crappy gift giver and my regifting accomplices...)

Friend A:"What are you bringing to the give at the party?"

Me: "EEEKKKK! That's tonight? Hmmmmmmmmm, how bout this?"

Friend A: "Didn't CGG (Crappy gift giver) give that to you?"

Me: "Yep..."

Friend A: "What is it?"

Me: "I think it's a teddybear jewelry set..."

Friend A: "How old are we?"

Me: "Apparently, she thinks we are all still 14 years old...:

Friend A: "Wrap it up lets go!"

Me: "Isn't she coming to the party?"

Friend A: "Yep"

Me: "Huh, this could get messy..."

The Party begins. White elephant game is underway. 2 hours pass. All gifts are given. 

CGG: "Wow! Look what I got? A teddy bear jewelry set! Debbie, didn't I get you one of these last year?  How great! Now we can have matching sets!"

Me:  "Great..."

You don't know how much juggling I had to do to weasel myself out of 'Matching Jewelry Tuesday'.  Lesson learned: Perhaps don't regift a gift while the person who gave it to you is there. 

Regifting is a frowned upon act. However, I think people fail to see the positive side of it. Such as, hey I didn't throw it away and look, now it can live to be regifted another day... We need to stay optimistic people! After so many transactions of regifting it will eventually wind up in the hands of someone who completely and totally loves it! Who am I to keep a gift, that in the future, could be given to someone who really wants it and could provide so much joy?!? So you see, it really is a service to the public to regift. Remember that when you feel the need to look down on someone for regifting, plus, we all know you've done it too! 

(Reenactment was based on a true story from my early 20's and NO, CGG never realized that the gift was originally from her to me.) Horrible? Maybe... But then again, maybe not...

Parenting = time share at plaza de crazy

(Disclaimer: This was written late at night and on about 3 hours of sleep from the night before. If you read this and have no idea what I'm talking about, don't worry, I'm sure I'll wake up tomorrow, read it, and wonder the exact same thing.....)

"Seriously?!? Why is there a puddle in the middle of my living room??!?!?" 

"Why is there an plastic army man sitting on the top shelf of the fridge?!?!?"

"Are you sure you aren't Chinese? Cause I have no idea what you are saying...."

     These are questions that either float through my mind or come out of my mouth. Charley is my energetic, cute, loving little guy. He loves toy cars, chicken nuggets and long strolls on the beach. He also loves to leave me a bit puzzled. 

     

     Case in point, food: The kid won't touch a banana but he'll eat play-doh....(scratching head in confusion) I mean, don't get me wrong, I'm all about trying new things, but lets maybe master the basics before we dive into eating indigestible art supplies....

     Chocolate milk is a staple in my home. I actually start to panic when the carton gets below half. My 3 year old is like a heroin junky when it comes to his milk. He has the milk-man on speed dial and I already have an intervention scheduled for next month, I still have to write my letter....

     

     I have often heard that if your child doesn't end up in prison you have succeeded as a parent. You know I say, a better mark for success should be:

     

     1) Is my child making VooDoo dolls and sacrificing them in their room after you put them to bed?

     

     2) Have I caught my 3 year old driving my car and he didn't refill the tank when he got home?

     3) Does my child have a mysterious cash flow coming in from the playground?

If you answered 'YES' to any of these questions, you have failed and I am judging you right now for it. Can you feel the judgement? Ok not really cause I'm pretty sure Charley has been taking the car out late at night to buy and sell VooDoo dolls........

Clumsiness

     I am clumsy.  Very clumsy. We are talking falls down flights of stairs clumsy, 5 separate flights to be exact.  I am like a magnet to corners and it still amazes me that have all my toes. My poor husband fears for my life on a daily basis, he is convinced that it will be the end of me and he is probably right.  Charley seems to have inherited my poor coordination. The 2 of us are like peas in a pod when it comes to injuring ourselves. He too has stubbed his toes, hit his head on everything imaginable, and trips on his own two feet. Between the two of us, ice packs and bandages will have to bought in bulk.  

     Walking is always entertaining. It seems to slip my mind that you actually have to pick up your feet when walking. I often fall head first into the payment. tripping on absolutely nothing! Stairs, however, are my biggest aggravation. Inside stairs, outside stairs, doesn't matter, they both foul me up. My most memorable account of falling down the stairs was in Minneapolis. I was exiting my old apartment when I tripped, whacked my head up against the railing and slid, backwards, on my back, head first down the steps. Landing with my head on the payment. The memorable part being the homeless man standing over me laughing. I guess I can't blame him. It must have been a sight to see. No injuries excluding the softball size bruise on my tush. 

     That's the thing. I never really get hurt, but I always get hurt. How does that work? Can it be possible that one can injure themselves so much that the body knows what to do? Am I immune to broken bones because of my constant falls and tumbles? Well I'm not going to be testing out that theory. Instead I am going to cling to the safety rails and take my time walking down the street. I may be 30 minutes late, but at least I only fell 3 times instead of my usual 6. :)

The taming of the FRO!

     When I was younger and still today, I have been told by many that I should be grateful of the huge mound of thick curly hair on the top of my head. My Mom used to tell me, "People pay good money to have hair like yours!" To which my response would be, " You mean, people do this to themselves on purpose?" Years and years ago I had zero knowledge of how to tame my curls. I did all the wrong things. I brushed my hair everyday, I didn't use any product and I allowed my sweet Mother to cut my hair. Now my Mama, bless her heart, had no clue how to work with my crazy locks! She herself has thick wavy hair, not corkscrew curls like me. Lets just say, we have learned from the past...

     In Jr. High, I was still completely clueless. My sister used to tell me, "STOP BRUSHING YOUR HAIR!!!!" I would yell back "I"LL BRUSH IT IF I WANT TO!!!" As time went on I started to see that perhaps having a frizzy, huge fro wasn't the most attractive thing in the world. So I stopped brushing out my curls and gave into their craziness. Eventually adding gel and trying to work with them instead of against. 

    Sr. High was better. I had a routine down. The curls were actually starting to look decent. Of course, leave it to me to mess that up. It was a Spring afternoon the day I decided to cut my own hair. I was tired of the length and I wanted layers. So I put the scissors to my head, right in the front and went SNIP! COMPLETE DISASTER!!!!! I had single handedly ruined my hair! I was mortified! It was so short that it completely stuck out on 1 side! I panicked! I stuck about 50 bobby pins in my hair, drove over to my best friend's house and exclaimed "HELP!!!!" Alissa looked at me, trying not to laugh. "I'm sure it's not that bad." she said. I took my hand off of my forehead to show her the damage. It was that bad! She proceeded to make better what I had destroyed. Cutting my hair beautifully in a short, layered style. Alissa was now my official 'Hair cutter' .

     Now I was set! I had a hair stylist, hair gel, tons of hair spray, and I was more confident. Someone probably should have mentioned, hair gel and spray are extremely flammable. You would think commonsense would have kicked in. Of course they are flammable! Well, I wanted to have a 'Spa' Experience at home. What better way to do that then to take a bath with candles lining the tub. I had everything set, I laid down to relax when I smelled this horrible scent. "Huh" I thought, "What is that? I thought these were unscented candles?" I reach back and touched my hair. When I brought my hand back around I noticed I had a handful of HAIR!!!! I had set my hair on fire! *Note to self, half a can of hairspray on your head and an open flame do not mix...

    My 20's have been much more generous to my hair. I have finally figured out what to do and what not to do. But as they always say, "Location, location, location!"  Living in Phoenix was perfect! ZERO humidity! Talk about having a good hair day for 6 years straight! It was fabulous! Then we up and moved here to NY. My hair gets bigger and bigger by the second here. The moister in the air blows it up like a ballon. I very much resemble a clown. In fact, I have been tempted to dye my hair lots of bright colors, stick on a shiny red nose and call it a day. I don't think you can ever tame curly hair. You don't own it, it owns you! So to my fellow curly girls out there, I feel your pain.