Thankful Thursday: Skinny Jeans that Fit, Moonstruck, Blogging, and Teaching

I have chosen to not do the daily Facebook thankful posts and decided to do a weekly post instead.  I just can’t hack that kind of commitment at this time.

This week I am thankful for the movie Moonstruck. I have loved this movie ever since I was too young to watch it, and it kept me company while I worked late as everyone was sleeping peacefully. 

Photo credit from IMBD page

Cher is ah-mazing, and I love her transformation from matronly (which how is that even possible?!) to elegant and gorgeous.  My favorite scene in the whole movie (and quite possible in my top 10 all time favorite movie scenes) is when Cher slaps Nicholas Cage in the face (who is very hot in his white tank top) and yells, “Snap out of it!”  Does he give up?  Oh, no.  He goes right ahead and asks her to the opera.  Next thing I know, the movie is over and my work is done.  Thank you, Moonstruck!

I am also thankful for jeans that fit.  I have been wearing ill-fitting jeans ever since I have given birth.  For those keeping score, that is seven years.  Seven years!! I was skeptical when New York and Company* offered High-Waisted Legging (but fit more like skinny jeans).  Was it going to be too high, causing my tummy to spill over or lose their shape within 5 minutes?  No, they were perfect in every way.   And guess what?  They were buy one, get one!  The Patron Saint of Skinny Jeans was smiling down on me that day. 

Never underestimate the power of pair of
well-fitted jeans.

On a more serious note, I am thankful for the one of the most heartfelt emails I have ever received.  Blogging can sometimes feel like I am talking into a void in which no one ever hears me.  A few years ago, I wrote a post about PMDDand how Celexa helped me through a very rough time.  The reader said that she had been going through a similar experience and that my post helped her go back to her doctor to try a new medication.  Writing honestly about dark, personal moments is not easy; in fact it can be scary.  I am so happy that sharing my story helped someone. 

Along that same vein, I received an email from a former student.  She told me how my class helped to rediscover her love of blogging and social media.  It is not very often that a teacher ever hears that they have positively impacted someone.  And for someone who is sensitive and over-analytical such as myself, I often wonder if I am doing anything right when I teach.  This email renewed my faith in myself and my choice to go back to teaching.

Feeling pretty grateful this week.  What are you feeling thankful for this week?

*I was not compensated by New York and Company.  I bought these with myself.  And will gladly go back again to buy more. 

Mental Health Awareness Month

Come link up at Band Back Togther for Mental Health Awareness Month

May is Mental Health Awareness Month. I think this is awesome because if there’s a month, then people are talking about mental health. And if people are talking about mental health, then we are getting closer to shutting down the stigmas that are often attached to mental illnesses.

And the stigmas? They are worse than the illness because they can make people feel shame and isolation, which then in turn, make the mental illness worse. A vicious cycle.

If you have a story to tell or need some support, please go to Band Back Together and share it. This site is so awesome because it shows that none of us are alone.

My name is Erin, and I am the face of PMDD (Premenstrual Dysphoric Disorder).

 I’ve told this story before, but in honor of Mental Health Awareness Month, I am telling it again.
___________________________________________________________

It’s Nice to Meet You, Celexa.

Everything changes after kids. Everything. I mean how it can NOT be different. I expected that my body would be different after carrying two human beings. I expected that I would be watching a fair amount of children’s programming. I expected that I would be running around taking The Babes to doctor’s appointments and social activities.

What I did not expect is the change of the intensity of PMS. Before The Babes, I would get a little bluesy, a little cranky, maybe even shed a few tears. After the Babes, I became a maniac. In May, I told my doctor, and she said that I may want to look into taking an antidepressant for the week before my period. But she told me to chart my mood for the next couple of months first to make sure it was hormones.

Around day 10, it would start with anxiety, proceed with extreme agitation, and conclude with full on meltdowns. And then, poof, it all went away the nanosecond I started my period. I would spend the next three weeks hating myself for the emotional outbursts and trauma I caused my loved ones.

In September, I remember just feeling like my moods were on this roller coaster, and I was out of control. I yelled at Marie for not getting in the car fast enough. She cried. I cried. I am totally ashamed of myself. I waited to make sure I started my period, and then called my doctor ASAP. I did it because I knew I couldn’t control it. I remember telling the nurse that I need help or I fear that I may turn that occasional glass of wine to a weeklong bender to get through this week. Clearly, white-knuckling it was not working out.

My doctor gave me a script for Celexa. I didn’t take it the first time because I was going to Vancouver and didn’t want to introduce a new drug into my system while on a business trip while 3,000+ miles away from my doctor.

I almost didn’t take it the next month. But there I was, sobbing that Harrington didn’t understand me. I was cranky with The Babes for no reason. And I looked at their sweet, innocent faces and knew they didn’t deserve this.

I went in the bathroom, opened the bottle of medicine, and took a pill. I didn’t care if it would make me tired. I didn’t care if I couldn’t have drink on my birthday. I didn’t care what anyone thought, especially for those who don’t think medication is necessary. I didn’t want my Babes to see me unraveled, thinking they had done something to deserve being yelled at. I didn’t want them walking on egg shells because Mommy might freak the fcku out. That’s no way for anyone to live.

The first day, I felt like I was taking a vacation from myself. I felt free. Free from anxiety. I never thought it possible to feel so relaxed during a regular day. It was like I had a nice, warm blanket on the inside. My muscles and stomach slowly became unclenched. This sensation kind of reminded me of that warm sensation of the epidural after having such strong contractions with Thomas.

I also noticed a change in my daily thoughts and reactions. When I had to pack the diaper bag, I didn’t have the usual trail of thoughts racing through my head:

Did I pack snacks? If don’t pack snacks, then The Babes will get hungry. If there are no snacks and they get hungry, I’ll be a bad mom. I don’t want to be a bad mom. So I better pack the snacks. Hey, why do I always have to pack the diaper bag? It’s not fair that I have to think of everything. Harrington’s here. Why can’t HE pack the snacks? No one’s going to judge him for forgetting snacks. Seriously, I think my head is going to explode that I have to think of EVERYTHING. EVERYTHING!! Now where the hell are those damn snacks already?! Shit, now we are going to be late because I still have to pack the snacks.

I just got the snacks and that was it. It was liberating not to be pulled down by those thoughts.

Through that week, I found that I slept better. I was too tired to stay up and be productive until 10:30 p.m. at night. I didn’t move at the speed of light to get everything done. Because if it didn’t get done, that was alright, too.

When I started my period and put the Celexa down, I did notice that my anxiety was coming back. So I think it’s safe to say that I am hardwired for anxiety. But I also realized that I could be making better choices to lessen that anxiety. For example, I need to get off the computer by 9:30 if I am going to have restful sleep.

I also realized that I let the moods of others slither across my personal boundaries and effect me more than they should. I need to build better personal boundaries to protect my sanity. I guess this is something I already know, but have realized on a much deeper level.

So thank you, Celexa, for showing me what life can be like without anxiety. I look forward to your assistance next month.

A Word About Instincts

At the ripe age of 33, I have come to a conclusion: Trust my instincts because they are rarely wrong.

Case in point: remember when I thought Marie was going to have to get her tonsils out? And that jack ass of an ENT said rip them out. And then all the specialists and new ENT said maybe not. Well, glad I checked with other specialists because with the Flonase treatement that the new ENT shrunk Marie’s tonsils form a four to a 2! Yea! He said the treatment doesn’t usually have this kind of success. DOUBLE YEA!

Talking about my issues with PMDD and Celexa were another issues I am glad that I trusted my instincts. There was a part of me that said, “Are you crazy?! You are going to talk about going on The Antidepressants?! That’s a private manner in which people are meant to keep SECRET! People are going to think you are nuts. Clearly.”

To which my instincts replied, “Clearly you are not crazy. You have a real medical condition that needs to be medically treated. People do not think that diabetics are weak or crazy if they need insulin to process sugar. Same difference.”

(Unless you are Tom Cruise in which I am sure exercise and vitamins are good enough).

Now I didn’t get a lot of comments on that post, but I did get a lot of hits which I interpret that more people may be dealing with this and just don’t really want to talk about it. Which I totally understand. I wasn’t sure if I really wanted to talk about it.

But I am glad that I did, because once I put it out there, it didn’t feel like this dirty, little secret.

And along with that, I just don’t think that there should be a negative stigma attached to a condition in which requires antidepressants, whether it be PMDD or Bipolar Disorder or OCD. I think the more people talk about, then the less shame, which in turn will evolve to acceptance.


So I’ll leave you with this:

“Instinct is intelligence incapable of self-consciousness.” – John Sterling

It’s Nice to Meet You, Celexa.

Everything changes after kids. Everything. I mean how it can NOT be different. I expected that my body would be different after carrying two human beings. I expected that I would be watching a fair amount of children’s programming. I expected that I would be running around taking The Babes to doctor’s appointments and social activities.

What I did not expect is the change of the intensity of PMS. Before The Babes, I would get a little bluesy, a little cranky, maybe even shed a few tears. After the Babes, I became a maniac. In May, I told my doctor, and she said that I may want to look into taking an antidepressant for the week before my period. But she told me to chart my mood for the next couple of months first to make sure it was hormones.

Around day 10, it would start with anxiety, proceed with extreme agitation, and conclude with full on meltdowns. And then, poof, it all went away the nanosecond I started my period. I would spend the next three weeks hating myself for the emotional outbursts and trauma I caused my loved ones.

In September, I remember just feeling like my moods were on this roller coaster, and I was out of control. I yelled at Marie for not getting in the car fast enough. She cried. I cried. I am totally ashamed of myself. I waited to make sure I started my period, and then called my doctor ASAP. I did it because I knew I couldn’t control it. I remember telling the nurse that I need help or I fear that I may turn that occasional glass of wine to a weeklong bender to get through this week. Clearly, white-knuckling it was not working out.

My doctor gave me a script for Celexa. I didn’t take it the first time because I was going to Vancouver and didn’t want to introduce a new drug into my system while on a business trip while 3,000+ miles away from my doctor.

I almost didn’t take it the next month. But there I was, sobbing that Harrington didn’t understand me. I was cranky with The Babes for no reason. And I looked at their sweet, innocent faces and knew they didn’t deserve this.

I went in the bathroom, opened the bottle of medicine, and took a pill. I didn’t care if it would make me tired. I didn’t care if I couldn’t have drink on my birthday. I didn’t care what anyone thought, especially for those who don’t think medication is necessary. I didn’t want my Babes to see me unraveled, thinking they had done something to deserve being yelled at. I didn’t want them walking on egg shells because Mommy might freak the fcku out. That’s no way for anyone to live.

The first day, I felt like I was taking a vacation from myself. I felt free. Free from anxiety. I never thought it possible to feel so relaxed during a regular day. It was like I had a nice, warm blanket on the inside. My muscles and stomach slowly became unclenched. This sensation kind of reminded me of that warm sensation of the epidural after having such strong contractions with Thomas.

I also noticed a change in my daily thoughts and reactions. When I had to pack the diaper bag, I didn’t have the usual trail of thoughts racing through my head:

Did I pack snacks? If don’t pack snacks, then The Babes will get hungry. If there are no snacks and they get hungry, I’ll be a bad mom. I don’t want to be a bad mom. So I better pack the snacks. Hey, why do I always have to pack the diaper bag? It’s not fair that I have to think of everything. Harrington’s here. Why can’t HE pack the snacks? No one’s going to judge him for forgetting snacks. Seriously, I think my head is going to explode that I have to think of EVERYTHING. EVERYTHING!! Now where the hell are those damn snacks already?! Shit, now we are going to be late because I still have to pack the snacks.

I just got the snacks and that was it. It was liberating not to be pulled down by those thoughts.

Through that week, I found that I slept better. I was too tired to stay up and be productive until 10:30 p.m. at night. I didn’t move at the speed of light to get everything done. Because if it didn’t get done, that was alright, too.

When I started my period and put the Celexa down, I did notice that my anxiety was coming back. So I think it’s safe to say that I am hardwired for anxiety. But I also realized that I could be making better choices to lessen that anxiety. For example, I need to get off the computer by 9:30 if I am going to have restful sleep.

I also realized that I let the moods of others slither across my personal boundaries and effect me more than they should. I need to build better personal boundaries to protect my sanity. I guess this is something I already know, but have realized on a much deeper level.

So thank you, Celexa, for showing me what life can be like without anxiety. I look forward to your assistance next month.

So, Friends, do you have any advice on strengthening personal boundaries? Any books or resources you recommend before I scour the internet and library?