Monday, May 31, 2010

Tattoo Day...I just...did it.

Two years ago, I spent hours every day ritualizing. Two years ago, I couldn’t go shopping or eat out or travel to places that were unfamiliar without my safe person. Two years ago, I didn’t sleep well and didn’t drive and didn’t have any free time what with all the checking and touching and chanting. But last week…I got a tattoo.

Okay wait…how does that have anything to do with anything you crazy woman? Well, I will tell you. I went to a place I’ve never been. I did something new. I had fun. I interacted with people that I never met before. And I’ll probably do it again.

I started a few months ago when I suggested that Luke and I get matching tattoos for our upcoming 30th birthdays. You know, because his first tattoo is so awesome (and was also my idea because I have brilliant ideas. Mostly) and I pretty much love guys with tattoos. When he got the first one I suggested that we get matching tattoos. It was like:

Me: Aw…look at that couple over there trying to pick out a design for matching tattoos.
Him: No.
Me: No what? You don’t want to match with me.
Him: No, I just don’t want some girly crap all over me like flowers or half a heart or an ovary or something stupid like that.
Me: What about you get my name.
Him: Woman, I’m not gonna do that! That crap is permanent.

Which then earned him a very hateful look and a smack across the head from me. But when I mentioned it this time, he was all “Cool. Let’s do it.” Just like that. And I was all ready to pout and make him feel guilty and smack him around and whatever. And THEN he jumped into action and hit the internet looking for ideas. We found this awesome site called Wow tattoos that designs these ambiagrams. Basically it is a design that says one thing one direction and another thing when turned the other way. Um…WOW. (Oh I get it now…Wow tattoos!)A month later we had our custom design. My side would say “Lucas” and his side would say “Angela”. Of course, uterine evacuation pushed back the date of tattoo day by several weeks.

But eventually…it was tattoo day! I’m not going to lie. I was really nervous. Like almost panic attack nervous. Not the pain, but the unfamiliar place was freaking me out. And the permanence was starting to it home with me too. All of the sudden my old OCD brain karate chopped through the medication and months of CBT to be all “What!? You can’t do this! This is a jinx! We can’t allow this or I am going to be spending the rest of your life counteracting your brazen tempting of fate with mental ritual! Woman are you crazy!?” So I almost defaulted to old behavior until I decided to grow a pair and man up. I was like “Listen up OCD. You are a chemical imbalance in my brain. Arbitrary physical markings do NOT have dominion over metaphysical properties.” Yeah that's right OCD. Don't mess with me or I will drop vocabulary on you. And then I took a Klonapin just to be sure.

But the real test came after we arrived at the surprisingly cool tattoo place. I forgot my flipping ID. And you must have your flipping ID to get inked so that the flipping health department doesn’t impose huge flipping fines. So I found myself over a half hours drive from home with no ID and only a limited period of time wherein we could get our designs done. The only possible solution was for Luke (who had wisely brought his ID and forgotten to remind me to bring mine) to get started while I drove all the way home. Alone. On the flipping busy highway. Which I hate. With no driver’s license on me. And you know what…I did it. I only sat in the car for like 5 minutes psyching up and then I just…did it. I got home, I grabbed the ID, I discovered an enormous spider had taken up residence on the floor of the driver’s side, I tried to rescue the stupid spider because I refuse to kill spiders, the dumb thing ran away from me and climbed under the mat, and I probably squished it with my foot while driving the thirty minutes back.

By the time I got back, it was mine turn. So there wasn’t anytime to stop and think about it. I just…did it. And it hurt like a mother. All you jokers who told me that it doesn’t really hurt that bad and it’s just like scratching on the surface of your skin are LIARS. L-I-A-R-S. You lied. It freaking hurt. Like my spine was being gouged out. But I was tough (and drugged). And then it was over. And Luke and I are forever inked. But as he puts it “Meh…I could always find another girl named Angela. There are lots of Angelas” Thanks baby. I love you more than life

Thursday, May 27, 2010

Thankful Thursday in a nutshell.

Today is Thankful Thursday.

I am thankful for cookies because my husband made them and I think my blood sugar was dropping or maybe I'm just a big whiner. Either way. Cookies.

I am thankful that tomorrow is tattoo day. And also nervous.

More to come...

Tuesday, May 25, 2010

Ugh. Drunk Uncles always hit on cats


It’s been like 2 weeks since I posted anything. Probably no one even remembers that my blog is still here. It’s still here. I’ve just been busy. You know, sitting in my chair and watching Netflix. I have also become a compulsive crocheter. I mean, I’ve crocheted for a long time, but in the past three weeks I have made an enormous afghan, 3 hats, a scarf, a purse, a tank top, and the front of a dress. So that has left little energy for posting.

Here’s the update: First of all I have discovered that either recovery or medication leaves me for jittery. I am very much med compliant as per the death threat strong recommendation by my therapist. But I am just wired up lately. I’m doing OK with compulsions. As in, I still compulse like always.

But check this crap out; (this is gross by the way so proceed with caution) I’ve been healing all nice and slow and whatever until 2 days ago when all of the sudden I realized that I was bleeding. So I go to check it out and there is a freaking hole in my belly. A hole. And crap was coming out of it. I called the doctor the next morning and they of course wanted to see me right away on account of my body doing a Moses impression and parting my skin to allow for things to escape. Of course when I get in there the doctor decides to punish me for allowing a breach in security by shoving a Q-tip down in the hole. And then if that wasn’t enough of a deterrent to never allowing rouge holes in my abdomen he then took a needle and poked multiple holes in various other highly sensitive locations. So basically the rest of my skin was being punished for behaving the way it was supposed to by holding in all of my organs and fluid.

The best part was after the hole poking and Q-tip spelunking when my internal stitches started coming out of the hole. Yep. But apparently it’s cool because those stitches were all loosened up anyway and were supposed to just dissolve. Also, I got the privilege of knowing what it feels like to have rubbing alcohol all up inside an open wound. It’s like a party. But a party where your uncle gets drunk and starts hitting on your best friend and she flips out and kicks him in the sack and he falls down and knocks over a candle and sets a fire and the fire climbs up your pants legs and bores a hole into your abdomen and then your cats panic because they are scared of the fire and the drunk uncle because he already tried to make out with them and they claw their way up your leg using the hole as a sort of makeshift ladder. It’s like that. Which is why I haven’t posted much.

I’m working on some good stuff though. So hang in here with me.

Saturday, May 15, 2010

Thankful...whatever day of the week this is

I think I may just start calling it the “Thankful Day of the Week” instead of Thankful Thursday because it seems physically impossible for me to get it done on Thursdays. I guess, to be fair to myself, I should be thankful everyday of the week anyway so it doesn’t really matter which day it gets posted, right? Especially when I have those days where I have to really think about what I am thankful for because everything seems to be going to crap. Also, I have this deep rooted need to NOT do things when I am supposed to. Like college for instance, I LOVE learning and reading but as soon as you tell me to do it for an assignment I’m all “Screw you. I don’t need you telling me what I need to know and then making me prove it to you. I’m gonna NOT do your assignment. So there.” Someday I’ll tell you all about the German class TA who made it his personal project to try and get me to just love my assignments. We had some battles. My point is that by telling myself I must do this on Thursday, maybe that is actually making rebel…against myself. Whatever. Just…here’s the stuff for this week.

Remember like 2 seconds ago when I was all “I love learning and reading”? OK, well that is totally true. And this past week has definitely reminded me how lucky I am to have the resources and freedom available to me. I was able to watch a fascinating documentary about Martin Luther and his struggles with mental illness, read several articles about other religious orders, ordered some resource books about church history, study all about Yoga, chakras and the theories of meditation for healing, AND read fiction authors and check out some of the backgrounds for the literary inspirations of their works. Wow. I just majorly nerded out for a minute. I’ll give us both a second to regroup.

I am just honestly thankful that I am allowed to read and educate and study anything I want to regardless of government, gender, race, or religion. I am not limited by what I can absorb and I am allowed to formulate my own theories and ideas and opinions based on what I take in. That is flipping cool. That doesn’t mean that everyone has to agree with me either which is also cool. I can share my thoughts no matter how deluded or crazy and other people can have their own thoughts. It’s a very solid set-up really. In fact, I love engaging with persons whose ideas are different then my own. I love hearing their perspectives and histories and thought processes and feelings and passions and challenges and rationales. I am such a serious dork. Why is anyone friends with me? But Jesus loves me.

Thank you Jesus for letting me have the freedom and desire and resource and ability to learn about you and your world and your people and myself in the process. And now if you will excuse me…I am going to spend some quality time at

Wednesday, May 12, 2010

"Why there was Dr. Pepper in my pillowcase" or "How psudeo menopause is helping me become more popular"

I know that recently I’ve been all “ovaries and uterus and girl parts and blah blah blah” but that has kind of been my life ever since the great reproductive exodus of 2010. Usually I try to keep you updated on my OCD and how I’m dealing with that and trust me there is still lots to say about that. For example, it hasn’t escaped me that I now have an odd number of ovaries. That is something I have packed in a mental box and I’ll deal with later. But for now…let me explain how I came to have pop cans in my pillow case.

I knew that this process would probably cause hormonal fluxes. I didn’t expect heat to begin radiating from my hands and face to such extremes that I could probably cook freaking bacon in my hands. Which, now that I think of it, might make me extremely popular. Especially with my husband. Well crap, now I’m probably going to wake up with meat all over my face.

The heat began yesterday morning. It was like someone turned a furnace on underneath my face and hands. I was actually creating heat with my body. I wasn’t all sweaty and gross because I don’t believe in sweating. It continued to get hotter and hotter as the day wore on. I tried to lay my head on a pillow only to have the pillow heat up and become like laying my head on the bosom of a witch (you know, like the saying “it’s hotter than a witch’s…). This went on ALL day. I turned a fan on my hands and face, I turned down the air…

Finally Luke had this brilliant idea just before bed. He handed me a can of Dr. Pepper to hold while I was trying to sleep (I never did sleep because I don’t do that anymore but that’s a different story for a different day). It was glorious. Since holding the freezing can worked so well, I decided to go a step further and put a can in my pillow case and lay on it like a pillow. And THAT was awesome. But I ended up heating the DP up within about 10 minutes. So I got real live ice packs out of the freezer and lined my pillow with that. Also I placed my hands directly on the ice packs. I ended up staying that way for about 90 minutes. And it was like the best 90 minutes of the whole night. After that all the ice was melted.

I seriously hope this levels off soon. Otherwise Luke is going to come home and find me covered with frozen steaks. Which probably wouldn’t bother him.

Tuesday, May 11, 2010

Tornado! I blame it for killing my plants.

It’s tornado season!

Of course Rick went into live coverage at about 1:30 even though no storms really started up until 3:30. But Rick came on to tell us all to be “weather aware” and so I was totally weather aware by checking out the windows and everything because Rick said to.

Luke got home just as things were firing up which is no surprise because Rick said it would. The storms got bigger and I decided to put the kids in the bathroom. Only they didn’t want to be in the bathroom. It was like herding cats. One went in and the other darted out the door, so I chased that one back and the other snuck out. The dog was at my heels pretty much this entire time so he got kicked maybe once or twenty times.

Finally both children were in the bathroom when the power started flickering. This resulted in a persistent and ear splitting whine from one of my children who just then decided to get scared of the storm, and a ceaseless cry from the other who wanted to watch Spongebob. Then Luke decided that he was going ahead out to rowing team practice because “You know, I haven’t heard otherwise”. OK, really? It was probably only 5 minutes after he left that we were in tornado warnings only I couldn’t call him because all the networks were messed up.

It was another 20 minutes of off and on power and sirens before he came to his senses and came back home. The good news is that he got there just in time for the real excitement! By now I put our kids in the bathtub with an iPhone so they would stop the whining and crying. Luke went in the bathroom with them while I stayed in the living room to check the radar. But the power went out again. At the exact minute that the storm was headed to us. So far, had only seen wind out of our window. No rain, no hail, no huge gusts. So while I was looking out the window everything stopped. Then I saw what looked like a white dust storm fill up the window from left to right as the picnic table picked up and flew over. This all took about 2 seconds which was about the same amount of time it took me to run into the bathroom. We heard some bangs but Luke could only stand it for about a minute before he needed to run on out and check it out. The creepy part was that by then it was all bright and sunny over our street and we could see the storm moving along in the sky. Everyone on the street was outside checking it out.

That’s when we saw all of our shingles all over the yard(s). So that explains the banging. The wind and/or tornado also picked up some of the plants from the flower bed and threw them around too. But they were dead already so its cool. Some fence sections were down and a few other roofs had shingle bald spots but otherwise we were extremely lucky to have only had a brush with storms and not the full on baseball hail and whatnot that other parts of the neighborhood had.

Lesson learned: don’t run around and get in and out of the bathtub when you have belly stitches. I paid for that one later.

Sunday, May 9, 2010

Mother's Day in a Nutshell

It’s Mother’s Day and I feel like I should come up with a really fun and poignant and classic post for today. But I’m on pain killers.

So let me just say that I am very thankful for my mom, my step-mom, and my mother-in-law. I am a mouthy handful. Thanks for raising me. And continuing to stick around.

I am also very thankful to be a mom. It is noisy and unpredictable and insane and often absolutely hilarious.

Happy Mother’s Day to all!

Check out last year's Mother's Day post here

Thursday, May 6, 2010

Thankful Thursday: Now with only one ovary!

I didn’t have a Thankful Thursday last week. I was enormously thankful but I also wasn’t entirely sure what day it was. I lost a couple days in there somewhere (in case you live under a rock, I got a few naughty organs yanked out last week). So I am going to attempt a double dose of thankful this week. This could be strenuous. On my brain. And I may need to make fun of someone/thing/place/event/dog just to get through it.

First of all, last Thursday was my man’s birthday. He is old now. Like, officially. Not just on the bald meter. But I am so thankful for everyone who came out to his awesome party! The 1995 playlist was awesome and totally worth all the hours I spent listening to iTunes. His actual birthday was spent next to me in the hospital bed. So I know that totally sucked but thank you Luke for being awesome. And old. I love you!

I am also EXTREMLEY thankful for my husband picking up all of the housework/driving/dishes/dog feeding/ballet class etc. that I haven’t been doing since the organ exodus. I have pretty much been sitting in a chair watching movies and netflix TV shows for a week now. That means no make-up, PJ pants, and my snuggie 24-7. Also I am thankful that he stands behind me no matter what may or may not have been shared under the influence of pain medication.

I am very much thankful for all my family members who came to stay and cook and clean. Also to everyone who brought us dinner and kept after little Cavetts for the last week so I wouldn’t accidentally get punched in the stomach which is surprisingly common around here. I am really getting used to these quiet days alone in the house, so maybe I’ll poke around at another couple of organs and see if I can damage those enough to need more surgery…

That pretty much wraps my Academy of Internal Vacancy Award speech. Thanks everyone!!

FYI: I am still kinda bored so if you have a good idea for a blog post, send it my way. I accept the challenge.

Conversation with Jesus. For real.

I don't really like a disclaimer before posting anything because it feels kind of apologetic. And I save my apologies for when they are truly necessary. But I couldn't decide if I should hit "Publish Post" or not because it's all personal and serious and honest and whatever. But for whatever reason I decided to click it.

Grrr. It annoys me when I give people the power to affect my self-image.

I figure since I already spent like an entire lifetime letting outside opinion dictate my internal importance, I should really cut that out. So I’ve spent about the last 12 months really getting good at liking myself. I’m seriously getting good at it. And I’ve discovered that I am somewhat awesome. Who knew, right? However, apparently not everyone thinks so. So silly me internalized it and stayed awake all night reminding myself that I probably am too ______________ and ______________ and _________________ and ______________.

So then I decided that since me and my inner monologue had already had quite a productive chat about it, it was probably time to have a nice long sit-down with Jesus about it. And that is probably the smartest decision I made in a while. (Especially considering that one of my decisions a few weeks ago was to make a hair thing to match my outfit just minutes before I had to leave to take Grace to school which resulted in a bobby pin super glued to my finger and that same finger then stuck in my hair.) Anyhow it was kinda like this (I mean as closely as I can get it)

Me: Jesus, all these people are saying stuff about how I’m too aggressive and blunt and stuff. They’re making me feel all bad about myself and like I’m somehow not a very good Christian. What do I do?

Jesus: Well, are you a Christian?

Me: Of course, Jesus. You know that. I love you and I know how you died for me and everything. I know that you are the boss of me.

Jesus: You’re right. I do love you. Even when you were sinning and all that. I still love you now. You’re mine. So whose opinion do you think is the most important?

Me: Well, yours Jesus. I want You to be proud of me. But they are telling me that You aren’t proud of me and that I say things that You don’t like.

Jesus: Well, Have I told you that?

Me: No.

Jesus: And you are sure that you check with Me before you act?

Me: I know that I don’t always check in with you before I act and for those times I hope You’ll forgive me, but I honestly honestly want to make sure that the things that I do and say are right with You and that I can hear You loud and clear if something isn’t cool with You.

Jesus: OK. So again, have I told you that you are a bad person and made you feel bad about yourself?

Me: No. Not at all.

Jesus: So there is the answer.

Me: Thanks Jesus. But it’s hard not to listen.

Jesus: I know it’s hard. I didn’t say it was going to be easy. But I think you can handle it. I’m here with you. And you can love and forgive and still be exactly who you are as my Father made you. Just make sure that we stay close like this. Otherwise it will be really easy for you to behave in a way that I don’t like. And as long as you listen close, I’ll let you know when you go off the path. And I love those other people too. You just make sure you stick with Me.

Me: OK. You’re sure right? I mean that I’m not a total loss as a decent person? You know, maybe I have something to offer people?

Jesus: I’m sure. And I haven’t ever let you down yet, have I?

Me: Point taken.

Sunday, May 2, 2010

When they tell you it will erase your memory, they are NOT joking

When you have panic disorder and OCD and you go into the hospital with your list of medications right before surgery, several things happen. The first thing that happens is that you go into the surgery prep area and they connect you to a hose that blows warm air up your gown. I’m not even kidding. It was awesome. I was in room 24 which is about as good as it could get (because 2-4 is a good number). So all was well.

The next thing that will happen is that the little anesthesiologist will come in, see your list of current medications, and immeadiatley have about 120 questions about the disorders. This will, in turn, cause counting and some touching and he will notice and say as he walks out of the room “Go ahead and get some blah-bitty-blah medicine ready because you know that this one is going to have a massive anxiety attack as soon as we get into surgery."

So as they wheel you and your counting self into the surgery room (after banging my feet into the wall because my body was longer than the bed), Mr. Medicine calls out from down the hall, “WAIT!”. And then everyone stops what they are doing and right there in the hallway he pushes some kind of drug into the IV. He is going to tell you that this will work really really quickly, erase your memory, and make you feel good. This is the part when you will start yelling, “YOU’RE RIGHT! THIS DOES WORK FAST! I CAN FEEL IT EEEEEEEEEVERYWHERE. I LOVE IT. THIS IS…” and then the next thing you know it’s the next day and you are in a hospital bed with a catheter and support hose so that you don’t get blood clots and your uterus is gone.

I honestly have very little recollection of the events of those 24 hours. The following is a collection of highlights based on fuzzy memories, eye witness, and facebook updates:

-When I came out of surgery I asked my dad if he would call my sister and call her names. Cursing names to be specific. I made sure to tell him to call her exactly that and checked frequently to make sure she got the message. This doesn’t make any sense because I like my sister a lot. Also she just joined the Army and she could actually kill me. And she is studying anesthesiology and could do that thing where she gives me drugs to paralyze me but I would still be awake and could feel pain while she killed me. Not that she would. But probably not the best idea to have my dad curse at her.

-Luke did take away my phone numerous times because I kept trying to update my facebook status. I told him that I needed everyone to know that my vagina was OK. It was very important that all of my facebook friends know that they needn’t worry about it.

-I did manage to send one update to my facebook. This is the exact copy: Helllllllliioi from thf hodpjvfdl. I nfeel like soneome just ripped huy ogans out.

-When trying to move from the recovery bed to the regular bed, it required the help of several nurses and aides whom I yelled at vigorously.

-Except…I didn’t yell at my night nurse because apparently I was in love with her. I told her she was pretty and that she was the best nurse I’d ever had and I wanted her to be my nurse forever.

-There were a few tense moments between Luke and me when I adamantly insisted that Justin Timberlake was supposed to be arriving soon. He made the mistake of telling me that JT was probably not coming to visit me.

-Later I found it hilarious that I thought Justin Timberlake was coming to visit me.

-I do remember my nurse (not the one I was in love with) walking me up and down the hall with my catheter bag in a purse. A pee bag tote. Awesome.

Honestly, I think I handled the whole thing fairly well all things considered. I had “safe” and “pretty” room numbers and hospital bracelet numbers and whatnot. I had only two or three well defined episodes of panic all of which happened from a dead sleep so probably it was the crazy drugs. I feel like OCD is well controlled now. This was like a test and I feel like a probably got a B or C so that is pretty respectable. Plus, about 20 people got to see me naked so…you know, win win. Left ovary and I will keep you updated.

Saturday, May 1, 2010

Conversation with my Ovary

The Characters: Me, My left ovary (LO), my right ovary (RO), my uterus,

Me: Ovary, psst…psssssstt. Be very cool about this. Just don’t make a big deal. I need to tell you something very important.

LO: What? What? You’re kinda freaking me out, girl.

Me: It’s just that…well, right ovary is getting fired. So is uterus. They been acting all a fool so I’m letting them go.

LO: Whoa! Holy crap! I haven’t done anything to make you mad have I? I mean…I know that sometimes I get a little noisy from time to time but I mean I’m young and I’m sowing my wild oats and all that and honestly woman a girl needs a little fun now and then and…

Me: Would you can it, ovary. You’re fine. In fact, you’re getting promoted. Congratulations. You are now Chief Estrogen Maker and Captain of the Reproductive Remnants.

LO: Band Name.

Me: Seriously girl, this is a big deal. I need you to pick up the slack for right ovary.

LO: I been doing her work for years now. I got this.

RO: Hey. I can hear you. I don’t even like it in here anyway. I’m glad I’m getting out.

Me: Now come on right ovary. No hard feelings. We’ve had some good times. Well…OK no not really good times, but its just time for you to move on. Unfortunatley that means you too uterus.

Uterus: What did I do?! Ovary! I knew you were gonna get me in trouble! I told you to keep it down!

Me: Hey hey hey! Everybody just calm down here. Right ovary, uterus, this is just a business decision. Please don’t take this personally.

Kidney: He he. You got fired.

Me: Kidney! Stay out of this.

Uterus: Fine. You don’t want me anymore? I’ll just make sure you never forget me. You forgot that I still have to be here for a few more days. You have chosen poorly woman.

Me: Right. Do what you must. I’m gonna miss you, you obnoxious little she-devil.