Sunday, September 25, 2016

It wasn't enough time.

I made a cake. I made it for my husband. I don't really like chocolate cake. If I'm going to eat cake, it's going to 1) be made by my sister (because she makes the best cakes) and 2) be vanilla or lemon. But I made the cake.

The cake raised (is that the right word...?) just fine and is from a box so I know it's not poison. I let it sit and cool before I frosted it. I wanted to frost it right away. I always do. But I waited for as long as I felt it was appropriate.

Surprise: it wasn't enough time. 

I went to frost it and it ended up coming up in chunks onto the knife and the frosting had to act as a kind of... spackling paste to put the broken pieces of cake back together. And then I walked away because I knew I had ruined it and it would never be pretty or perfect or like I had wanted it.

I'm sure it'll taste fine and I thought that I waited long enough. But I didn't. And my husband will eat and it won't point out that it isn't pretty and that it isn't homemade. And he will love me anyway.

And that is the breakdown of our marriage in a nutshell. I try and fail and then kind of fix it and then he pretends like it's how it was supposed to be all along.

And I am incredibly lucky. And have really awful life/coping skills.

Sunday, September 11, 2016

Can't You Just Let Me Lie Here and Hate Myself?

Do you ever see a scripture and think to yourself, "Wow. That is super accurate to what just happened to me,"?

I'll take you back two weeks ago.

I was looking so cute, you guys. I dyed my hair blonde two weeks ago and when I was walking to class on that Monday, I was strutting like a freaking peacock. My hair was done, I was wearing my nicest tights, my pretty blue dress: I thought I looked great.

Proverbs 16: 18 was SUPER literal in this case.

Pride goeth before destruction, and a haughty spirit before a fall.

BECAUSE I SUPER FELL DOWN. And I super broke my ankle.

I fell HARD. I rolled my ankle and hit the ground with a very satisfying splat.

It was like this. But less funny and my hair was better.
Two very nice young men came to my rescue immediately and tried to help me up. I could walk on it because my foot hadn't started to swell but I really didn't want to get up. I wanted to lie there and be invisible and hate myself. 

But I got to my feet and managed to hobble to class because I wanted to make people stop looking at me and for the boys to go on to their classes without worrying about whether or not I could walk.

So I walked on it, pretending everything was fine and as a result, I damaged my foot further and am now in a walking boot for 6 weeks. Not the worst news in the world, but I'm feeling pretty stupid.

Of course, I have reason to feel stupid. Further injury could have been avoided if I hadn't been so concerned with getting up off the ground and walking to show the two young men who were helping me that I was "fine". This happens in my life a lot - emotionally and physically. I'm of the school of "you don't call in sick unless you're dying" school. Of the "I would rather work 12 hours in a day than ask for my coworker to help me with something" school. Of the "I would rather skip a social engagement if I didn't have a babysitter than ask a family member or friend to help me out" school.

I texted my boss the next morning and she (despite it being a very busy time of year for us!) insisted that I stay home. She's kind of the best. But even though all was fine, I still felt guilty.
I'm a helper. I. Don't. Like. To. Ask. For. Help.
This is my sickness! The absolutely paralyzing fear of needing anything but needing to be needed even when I am (physically or emotionally) broken.
Depression probably brings this out in me. I think this is the case for most women that we're encouraged to ask others how we can help them pretty much constantly. But to take someone up on that offer is pretty much impossible. Because pride. Because I can do it myself. Because I'd rather chop my arm off than have someone else think of me as weak.

So in times of sadness, I spend a lot of time alone. It's okay though, I'm pretty amusing.

When I am feeling depressed, I will not let you into my house. I won't let you into my mind or my spirit or my heart. It's a no admittance zone. Very few exceptions. I have managed to cultivate a small group of trusted confidantes but I'm 100 percent more social when I am not in a depression spiral. 

You learn this through trial and error, unfortunately. In the depths of my depression in 2013, I had someone who would come over under the guise of wanting to help me and insist upon sorting my mail for me. My mail. Something so personal so intimate that there is a federal law protecting it. I would literally prefer someone sort my underthings for me than go through my mail. She was trying to do what she could, I'm sure she didn't intend on making me feel bad but it was very upsetting to me. It only served as a reminder to me that I couldn't attend to my most basic needs. I just didn't have the emotional energy to tell her not to do it and I just ended up letting it happen and letting her believe she was helping me.

This is why I close myself off during a flare. I do not have the wherewithal to make you feel better about me being sad. It actually does me harm to pretend to be okay, it can set me back weeks. I need all of that "pretending" energy to get through my day.

What I do need during a flare is normalcy. I need my routine. I crave my work. I crave my responsibilities. If I don't have a reason to get out of bed in the morning, I won't. I will literally be in bed until I have to eat something or go to the bathroom and then I will get back in bed.

My ankle is broken and while I don't need a cast, I do need a walking boot for six weeks until I am healed. The boot makes my gait rather awkward but I can walk faster with it on. I just waddle a little bit - it's kind of funny. But my foot doesn't hurt when I wearing it. The strong metal bars keeping my leg straight helps me walking properly and supports me so that I don't fall again and reinjure. It's hideous and heavy but it's healing me because it's allowing me to walk with help until I can walk on my own again.

I think of this boot as physical reminder of what it means to come out of a depressive episode. When I am in the middle of an episode, I try to do as many "normal" things as possible. Since I am lucky enough to have a life rich with responsibility (that sounds sarcastic, it isn't), I'm not in a position where I can just not go to work or school or church so I have to work through it. These responsibilities to me are a blessing because I see those places that I "have" to be as my safe spaces to concentrate on, my support beams. Having those safe spaces of structure help me get through darker times and I plod along through my routine until I can start seeing and doing things outside of my routine.

And while my foot will eventually heal, my body will carry the history of the break and because of it, it will be easier for me to break again if I am unfortunate enough to fall again. The same has to be said of my depression as well. Depression can go into remission, but with diligence can be controlled. Having the reminder that I will have the support of my safe spaces, my confidantes and my responsibilities, I will be able to get on my two feet and walk again when I am ready and not before I am ready to heal.

Sunday, September 4, 2016

RIP Barry Wisdom

I was looking for photos of Jeff the other day for a blog that I was writing. I found this photo and saved it. This is the only photo of me that Barry Wisdom ever took. But looking through the rest of Barry's work, he had literally thousands of shots from theatrical productions in and around Sacramento. This photo makes me smile because it is from my favorite show that I have ever done: The Life and Undead of King Henry V, which was a mishmash of Henry IV parts 1 and 2, Henry V and a couple of other contributions from the cannon. All done in 90 minutes. Oh, with Zombies. It was a brilliant show - and I was thrilled to be a part of it. It sounds ridiculous but if every director had the faith in his actors and the vision for his production as that director did, we'd be seeing some amazing theatre in the world. This photo, along with the majority of the photos taken of productions in our town, was taken by Barry. 

Barry passed away this weekend. 

Even if I had not been reviewing his work on Friday, I would still feel the pit in my stomach of enormous loss. Barry was truly a storyteller through his visual medium and recorded moments that would normally be lost forever once a production was closed. Because of Barry, we can have these moments again and again and again. He was also an exceedingly kind and intelligent person with a passion for animal rights/welfare that exceeded almost anyone I knew. 

His artistic presence will be truly missed but a heart like his is not something that comes along very often. And while he was often not seen center stage, his photos will speak for his contribution to the artform and community forever. You will be missed, Barry. ❤️

See more of his amazing work at his website

Friday, September 2, 2016

63 Day Work Week

Where on earth did the summer go? It's Labor Day Weekend and husband is taking the boychild and I out for sushi to celebrate our last night together until November. That's right. My husband will be working for the next 63 days. Up until our 2nd wedding anniversary weekend - and we're in a wedding that weekend to boot.

I'm already tired.

My husband is an actor, a good one.

He is a member of Actor's Equity so it's a "real job" for him to put on costumes, make funny faces and do weird voices. That's all acting is, right?

Sometimes he makes people laugh.

A Funny Thing Happened on the Way to the Forum 
Character: Marcus Lycus
Sacramento Theatre Company
Director: Michael Laun
Photo Credit: Barry Wisdom 

Sometimes he makes people cry. 

Character: The Father/Tateh
Civic Theater West
Director: Brent Null
Photo Credit: Brent Null

Sometimes he plays his dream roles: 

Little Shop of HorrorsRole: Voice of Audrey II
Sacramento Theatre Company
Director: Michael Laun

Sometimes he does terrifying things to girls named Juliet (while my best friend and I watch and try not to get involved.)

Romeo and JulietRole: Capulet
Director: Nina Collins
Photo Credit: Terri Brindisi
I digress. I could really post these all day. When I am not being completely self-involved, I am really proud of him. 

So, he recently got a great day job that is great for our family. It's stable and the job is in a field he's interested in and we're saving to buy a house so we're super happy with the job.

But then he got offered a role. 

Roles are hard to come by in our town. We only have three professional theatres and the roles are just not very common unless you want to "work" for free in community theatre. Which is a super good idea when you have a full-time job and an eight-year-old. 

Ah no. But thank you. 

So when you get offered a role, you take it. Even if that means working two full-time jobs at the same time. And this is why I will not see my husband for the next 63 days. 

And really, the reason this is a problem is because I am not a good spouse. I am overly concerned what all of this will mean for me and "my life" (because we don't have the same life?) and I'm GRUMPY. 

Jeff only worked part time last year and it was super awesome because I got away with just going to work and doing very little in terms of wife and mothering. I basically brought in a paycheck and got to do whatever I wanted, whenever I wanted because I always had a supportive spouse who was there to pick up my slack.

But because I lacked perspective about how awesome my situation was, I thought I was doing *everything* by working full time so I was super insufferable about my own needs. I'm a find.  

They say absence makes the heart grow fonder and all that. But when you're a parent, absence makes the heart grow incredibly resentful when you're feeling unappreciated or unsupported. So I'm about to get some of my own medicine in the next few weeks.

And while I would like to hope that this will make me stronger and a better spouse and mother, I will likely be INCREDIBLY whiny until November. Which isn't really all that different from my regular personality. Personal growth is overrated. 

I'm kidding. Mostly. I am going to try to grow and stuff. I recongize what a large thing he doing for us and our financial stability and that he is doing what is best for us and our family. Feeding his artistic needs is something that he needs on a personal level to make him a happier and more expressive person. (I mean, what would I do if I couldn't complain on the internet? Every body needs their thing!) But it is... going to be a really hard time in our lives. I work full time and am now also going to school. But blessed are those who press forward and make the most of our opportunities. 

Monday, August 29, 2016

Hello, Darkness, my old friend.

My Fitness Pal.

I freaking hate you.

Seriously. You are the legit worst.

We've had an on and off relationship. Mostly off because I can't stand your judgement as you watch me eat my way through Taco Tuesday (which is basically every day).

But I read this article this morning and got all inspired.

I absolutely abhor the idea of automating things that are personal. Water trackers give me rage nosebleeds (just drink water all day. Not hard.) The idea of a shared online calendar between spouses gives me the creeps (talk to each other - don't be a stalker). I don't have a to-do list on my phone. I don't track my ovulation on an app (because I'm always more accurate than an app! Thank you, Taking Charge of your Fertility.) I keep lists in a (gasp) notebook.

Maybe it's my "old Millennial" status, but I just hate that everything is automated.

But when I started thinking about tracking my food and adding up calories, I got really tired. This is one automation that I can get behind because I don't think about what I eat. And I certianly don't have an idea of how many calories are in a certain item. My brain has way too much to think about to memorize that information. So I downloaded my old friend, MyFitnessPal.

So to recap how I got to this place of desperation, let's back up. I was in a car accident last week and was subsequently given muscle relaxers to help me recover. I am REALLY sensitive to medication. I don't drink and don't do drugs of any kind - so these hit me kind of hard. Husband came home on Saturday (at around 1 am) to me sitting on the edge of the bed, staring off into space and when he asked me what I was doing, I just started laughing. We apparently had a whole 45 minute conversation that I don't really remember. I didn't believe him that it had been that bad so when I took these again last night, he filmed me.

It was hilarious - and it WILL NOT BE POSTED because I was very much in my nightgown - but he played it for me this morning on the way to work and I was MESSED. UP.

Once I stopped laughing at myself and my fan theories about Grey's Anatomy, I realized a horrifying thing about my body. Ummmmmmmmm - that's what I look like????

But OMG. My years of shape wear, good hair, selfies and controlling my own light has really been deceptive. I look GROSS. I wiggle in a way that I don't think I should wiggle! This is not a pity blog! Or, a self-body shaming blog. I don't care how YOU look but I am not into how I look right now.

Years and years and years of reminders from my family and society have informed me that yes, I am fat. But for the past 8 years or so, basically since I had my son, I haven't given two craps about what society thinks that I should look like. Because of aforementioned shape ware, make up and good hair - I wear clothes really well, I always look presentable and I have a pretty face. Whatever, I look cuter than you.

But this video (No! You can't see it!) makes me realize that I probably can't move as well as I should and I should be taking better care of how I take care of my health. Thus the reintroduction of the MyFitnessPal.

 Hello, Satan.

First off, it's way too goal oriented. I get it. We should lose weight but who are you to tell me what my goal weight is?

I was going to type in 190 and then...

Okay, then. 160 it is.

And then when they ask me how many pounds per week I would like to lose, I'm met with this:

Yeah, I super hate you.

But unfortunately, I have to be super honest with you because honestly? If I'm not honest with you, there's no point. Numbers don't lie and neither do calories!

So get ready, my Fitness Pal. I'm about the load all of my rage over keeping myself accountable to you. Let's do this, you judgmental scum.

Sunday, August 28, 2016

Video Blog: What had happened this week... (August 22 - August 28, 2016)

Video blog about happenings in our family this week! I filmed this in my bedroom at 12:30 am so I kind of turn into this lady for a few seconds here: 

Enjoy. ;)