Friday, October 29, 2010

Thankful "I'm still breathing and eating" Thursday. I feel like 'Thursday' should have air quotes from now on.

It’s been one of those weeks where my digestive system staged a revolt and punished me for something I must have done. And I whatever it was that I did must have been horrible because my body was seriously pissed. But its over now. Just in time for trick or treat. Sooo…enough about my organs. Let’s get thankful.

I have an awesome husband. This week I was all “Baaaabby!! My guts haaaaaaattttee me!” And he’s all “Awwwww, how can I make it better?” Oooo, I know…we could…you know…that would make anybody feel better.” And then I was like “you did just hear me say that I had a fever, right? And that my body is rejecting food?” And he was like “yeah. So? You’re super hot.” And honestly, how do you argue with that? And then he picked up a dead mouse that one of our dogs dragged in. See? He’s awesome.

I have good insurance. And I also have a job(s) that allow(s) me to be at the piano for many many hours per week. And when not at the piano I am on my feet singing or rehearsing or something else wildly exciting and creative. But also I have crappy shoulders. And a crappy neck. And a skull full of surgical pins and plates. So I hurt a lot. So I started going to a chiropractor this week. I was really sketchy at first because I didn’t know if he was going to like break me or give me oddly powerful hugs or something else equally strange. Remember, I have precedent for this. I did get felt up during a massage AND while getting my clothes altered. Also I get taped in a bathroom once. So, I get sketchy. Anyhow, it wasn’t that bad. After the first day, I thought there was a good chance that the man had broken my arm but don’t worry, it’s cool. The only scary part was when I thought I was actually going to die on the table. I had my face in the little face hole in the table and somehow the doctor-table-germ-blocker-white-paper stuff got in front of the face hole right at the exact moment that the guy was apparently trying to squeeze the life from my lungs. I tried to take a deep breath and got a mouthful of paper. I tried again and got a mouthful of table. I was ready to either freak out or pass out and passing out seemed like the option that would take the least amount of work. He finally let up and I made a gasping sound like I had just been free diving or something. But I am still alive. And I can move my arms again. And also, he electrocuted my ear. I love eastern healing.

Also in the things to be thankful for, pets category: I love having two dogs.

Go check out my store at cafepress!

Monday, October 25, 2010

Buy things that I made! Sort of.

I have a store !!

Go there now!

Thankful. Don't even look at the calendar. I know what day it is.

Things to be thankful for:

So this week I took our new dog to the vet. We call her Lexi. It turns out that she is about one and a half and possibly some kind of schnauzer or terrier. And remember how the other dog kept getting all up in her business? Well, that is because it turns out that she is in heat. So…awesome. But the best part was after the vet had violated her private bits to confirm the heat, I picked her back her. And she “discharged” on me. And then he was all “Yep, I think she is definetly in heat.” And I was like “Yeah, she got her dog period on me.” Um, yeah. That came right out of my mouth. Ok, but theeeeen. It gets better. Somehow the vet was talking about how long the heat lasts and it should be over soon and then I was all “OK, so that must be why she’s peeing all over my house and my other dog keeps getting all up on her.” And he was like “yeah, probably.” And theeeen I was all “yeah my other dog is super fat and short and he gets up on her all slow and out of breath and he goes…” And then came that magical moment when I made dog sex noises. In the vet’s office. So, it seems that I should not be allowed to have conversations with normal people without supervision.

Later this week…

I bought these totally amazing shoes a few weeks ago. I haven’t had the chance to wear them yet. They are around 5 inches tall and have a zipper right on the top. That is purely awesome. But they were on major sale and didn’t have my size. So I bought a size smaller. So then when I was walking through the parking lot after having just had rain and wearing a pretty dress and cute hair and lots of jewelry on the way to the opera, when I tripped and fell on my freaking face there were 5 extra inches to fall. It was quite spectacular. I gouged my shoes and banged up my knee. And yes, if you have been reading my blog a while or know me in person then you know that this isn’t even close to the first time I have done this. Including gouging the toe out of the shoe.

So it seems that this week I am thankful for the chance to make mistakes. I am thankful for the chance to look a little silly and laugh at myself. I am thankful for the grace that I have. Not literal grace apparently, but grace that keeps me in God’s love even when I am acting like a bonehead. And making dog sex noises. And falling down. And forgetting that my blow dryer is still in the fire place when we had company over and then having to explain that I don’t normally keep my blow dryer in there. I just forgot about it. And all the other things that I have done/will do. I am thankful.

Wednesday, October 20, 2010

I think I need more pills. And for my therapist to be off maternity leave.

I am feeling completely un-inspired. Blah. Like, as in, that is how I feel. Blah. I feel like I have no creativity and nothing funny or inspiring to say. I get it. That’s part of this thing that I live with. This brain that squirts out chemicals all over that make me act weird and this brain that withholds the chemicals that I need to make me all normal. Like normal people. Or what I perceive to be normal people. So I am going to try to just relax and let my writing energy flow. And we’ll see what that gives birth to.

I wore purple today. It seems so insignificant. Like my dress and shoes and purse are going to make these people feel better about themselves. Like my wardrobe can help them know that they are loved and significant and have a purpose. And I know lots of awesome and loving and cool people who will respectfully disagree with me. And that’s OK. We can all still love each other.

But I did it.

Because I know what it feels like to be told that your lifestyle or your personality or your “choices” are wrong. And inappropriate. And I should know better. And try harder to fix it. And I’ve brought this on myself. And that society has created a monster by telling individuals that they are valuable and worthy of being on this earth. That makes for selfish people. Or so I’m told.

OK, so mental illness is not the same thing, I get that. But the stigma is still there. Living with mental illness without shame is not part of the mainstream. If I don’t get “better” or “cured” then I have somehow failed. Being diagnosed as mental ill is somehow supposed to be a dirty secret. My environment has somehow failed me. My faith is somehow inadequate. My use of medication must signify my complete and cognizant stubbornness in refusing to try and do things the right way.

So yeah. I’ve been there. I’ve questioned my right to exist on this planet. I’ve questioned what it may be, if anything, that I have to offer humanity. And then I came to this conclusion: Everybody can suck it. Because this is who I am. And this is how I am made. And this is how freaking classy I am. And this is how I talk. And this is how I love Jesus. And because of that, Jesus taught me to love other people. Before I get to make any assumptions or judgments or be just plain old mean, I gotta love em first. Even when they do stupid crap, I gotta love em first because Jesus loved me since a long time ago when I was doing all kinds of mean and stupid crap. And that's in the Bible. Look it up. But it may not be the exact translation.

That is what my brain just gave birth to. Hopefully its not one of those babies where you’re all “Holy crap! What’s wrong with that ugly baby!?” and more like “Aw look how sweet and cute that thing is once you get all the uterus juice off it.”

Also, please check out Jamie. The Very Worst Missionary. And inspiration to me on a regular basis.

Tuesday, October 19, 2010

This is what we call a stream of consciousness. Otherwise known at my house as "Seriously, woman. Are you done? I am trying to watch this game."

I know I didn’t do thankful Thursday and blah blah blah and I am behind on posting and blah blah blah but I’m going to try and catch you up on the things that have been happening in and around the nut house. I genuinely thought about making these into full posts, but I am lazy. Straight up. Lazy.

I am relapsing. I’ve always known that I will have OCD for ever so these things will happen. It’s all about disease management and not eradication. I like to think of the relapses as “flair ups” but then it sounds like herpes. And OCD is not at all like herpes. I don’t think. I’ve never had herpes. I’ve had pink eye. Is it like that? Anyhow, I have OCD and my husband doesn’t. And we’d like to keep it that way. That’s why I take my pills and see my doctors and don’t go rubbing up against things that might be all diseased. OK, well technically I do rub up on stuff all the time because I am a toucher/counter. But I don’t do it with the places that could get herpes. I think. It turns out that I know way less about herpes than I thought . I did have a panic moment over my oven knobs this week. And I counted all kinds of business.

We rescued some dogs. Two flipping little things to be exact. Border terriers. One male and one female. So basically I spent the last two weeks trying to keep Pete and the male terrier from dog raping the poor little female. We finally found a home for the male. And since Luke is such a girl, he let us keep the female. We call her Lexi. Short for Lexapro. Get it!? See what we did there?! Anyhow, we still have quite a lot of raping going on around here. Pete keeps dragging his big fat body on top of her ten pounds and trying to give her the business. Only its like slow motion business because he’s all old and he sprained his ankle trying to give her the business earlier. But ever a little fighter, she turns around and girl humps him right back. Pete doesn’t really care for that much. Not really, no.

So I’m just going to say it: I am officially a genius. And I know this because I took the test to join the High IQ Society. And then they were all “You are a genius and your IQ is way higher than the minimum required to join our super awesome and highly intelligent club!” And I was all “I know, right?! Geez, like tell me something that I don’t know. Oh wait…you can’t. Because I am a genius.” So don’t be jealous or whatever. I mean, I’m still the same person I was before you knew I was incredibly intellectually superior. Luke thinks that I’m that kind of highly functioning weirdo genius that can’t like interact with society and can quote random facts from almanacs. I told him to suck it. I’m unstoppable now suckas!

I think Jake Gyllenhaal is like the best thing in America. I think he is like actually good for America. I would do anything Jake Gyllenhaal asked me to. As long as he would let me lick his face.

I meet some real life OCDers over the past couple weeks. Some already are open about their life with the disorder and some are coming to light for the first time. They may or may not be reading my blog. But from all of us crazies…welcome…make yourself at home…and I really hope you don’t mind hearing about vaginas.

I watched the entire season of Sister Wives in one day. It was like I just couldn’t stop. I do not understand that business. I mean, I respect their right to practice their religion and all that, but the feminist in me wanted to crack some skulls. I seriously do not get this. Maybe it was just all the kids that gave me the jeebs. I am terrified of large groups of children. They could form an army at anytime. Which will bring me to my final point/question: This is a scenario that Luke poses to almost everyone he meets in an attempt to get to know them on a deeply personal level. So I welcome your responses: Imagine there are an unlimited amount of 5 year olds. They are attacking you from all sides. You may use anything you like to defend yourself from this inexplicable onslaught of 5 year olds. How many five year olds would it take to finally bring you down and defeat you? Explain.

Au revoir. That is how we ridiculously intelligent persons say good bye. Also French people. I think.

Tuesday, October 12, 2010

Yes. Sometimes Jesus and I use sarcasm. It's how we communicate.

Well, we joined the Methodist church and all that and it is super awesomeness. Not just the one church we go to, but the whole unity of the Body. Very much coolness. The sermon series has been about being “fearless”. This started our first week there and lasted 6 weeks. This is all about phobias and anxiety and pretty much all the things that make my clock tick backwards. Don’t tell me that Jesus doesn’t outright laugh at us sometimes. He did that on purpose. Good one, Jesus. You got me.

So I’ve heard these sermons before. And they’ve never done much for me. It’s always “God loves you but take ahold of those dark thoughts. The devil is trying to distract you” “God wants you to be free from that burden but…you have unresolved sin plaguing your mind and keeping your thoughts away from Him.” “God knows your struggle but…you must trust harder and be more faithful and believe harder and take hold of the demon that is gaining a foothold and then God will hear and answer your prayer and you’ll be all better and farting out rainbows and kittens and food for the homeless before you know it.” So needless to say I was skeptical…

But this was an entirely different experience for me. I wasn’t at fault. I am not currently at fault. In fact, freaking out is common enough that Jesus even tells us a bunch of times in the Bible that it’s normal to be afraid. It’s normal to be scared. And in the case of those of us who like to take that to the extreme because of our tweaked out serotonin levels, Jesus is all “Hey, I get it. It’s cool. Just take a breath and chill for a second.” You know, kind of like that. I couldn’t really find a passage look up for you on that one. I think the best message for me is that peace and joyfulness are always in there. The emotions and chemicals will work their crazy magic (or perhaps the demon?) but underneath we can be chill.

Here is how I see it…I have OCD. I have panic disorder. I have had crippling agoraphobia. And it sucks. And it is real and physical and emotional and internal and deep. But as a person who lived undiagnosed, I bought all that crap about how I needed to just get my act together and shake it off. Pray right and this won’t be happening. I have no right to be depressed or panicked or giving in to these insane delusional obsessions and compulsions because I am a Christian for crying out loud and I am going to be freaking happy and pulled together and quit being so wallowy. Getting diagnosed liberated me. Not necessarily from the disease. I will work everyday for the rest of my life to maintain the balance of reality versus OCD. But it liberated me from the idea that it somehow made me a bad Christian because of the chemically induced emotions and feelings and obsessions and compulsions and anxiety and depersonalization. The real me has now been able to separate out the mentally ill me. I can understand my disorder as exactly that, while the real me remains happy and joyful and strong. The only difference in my disease and someone with say, diabetes or liver problems or something is that my symptoms happen in the same place my faith and intelligence does. So I have to think a little harder to keep them apart. Also I am funny than diabetes. But that Quaker Oats guy gets pretty close.

Anyhow, at least twice during this sermon series our new pastor was saying forbidden words. My forbidden words are words that I refuse to write, type, speak, and even try to avoid thinking about. Bad ugly words that could create “negative” space that needs clearing. (If that doesn’t make sense, go back and read some of my older posts about negative images and systematic clearing. I’m very fascinating.) But he just powered on. And I almost had a panic attack right there in front of God and everyone. And Jesus was all “OOoo girl, I am gonna be teaching you some good stuff.” And I was all “OK, Jesus that’s just super. Can you help me with this miniature heart attack I’m having right now?” And there it was. I am closer to Jesus because of my mental illness. He chose me to fight this battle. Also, sometimes I think He is just simply messing with me. But there was the lesson. My faith, my joy, my heart, my relationship with Him, my reality, my influence, my drive to learn more and educate myself and learn, my freedom is in the disorder. I never could have “prayed hard enough”. I never could have “stopped letting that mean old devil get a foothold and distracting me from Jesus.” If I had focused all my energy into their “solutions” I would have missed out on Him being there the whole time. So I will live with this disease. I will live with until Jesus is all “OK, that’s enough”. And that is what being Fearless means to me. I walked through the fire and He was already in the furnace waiting for me. Jesus will meet me where I am no matter what. I don’t need to get all fixed up and chase Him around. And on the day that I actually meet Him, I just hope he doesn’t mind if I count a few things on the way.

Friday, October 8, 2010

I have the best/most comlicated hair ever. And a love/hate relationship with electronics

Fact 1) I have so much hair. Like it’s really long and super awesome but long and kind of challenging to take care of.

Fact 2) My blow dryer is about 82 hundredy years old. Like I’m pretty sure that this conversation happened: “Well, here we are at Plymoth Rock. Anybody have a blow dryer?” “Here use mine. It’s kind of old but it will get the job done.” And then it was passed down from generation to generation until it landed at the Cavetts which is a magical land where normally functioning things turn into bizarre weaponry or art or food.

So I was blow drying the aforementioned head of luxurious hair. I’m used to the occasional stray hair catching in the motor and burning up because I lost/broke the shield that goes over the intake thingy like probably when Lincoln was president. Also I am quite used to the fuse protector thing on the outlet popping out and shutting off the electricity. I had decided to go with the diffuser that morning and let my hair curl because dang it, it was early and I was tired.(Men…a diffuser is a tool that you put over the front of your blow dryer to make your hair curlier than normal. It’s like a flat plate with spikey things and holes in it. And that is what it is every time so every time I get it out you don't need to be all "What's that thing?" It's the same thing it was last time.)

Maybe the first time it shut off and burned up some pieces of my hair was a warning to finally put the stupid thing to rest. Because when the thing actually caught on fire, not only did smoke come out, but the smoke built up and blew the diffuser off the top like a bullet. It, of course, smacked me in the head. So then I was holding the smoking/flaming blow dryer and all I’m thinking is “Crap is my hair on fire?!” but I started trying to blow the fire out like a birthday candle while it still hasn’t occurred to me to turn the thing off and unplug it. Once I finally turned it off I didn’t want to set it down because what if it spontaneously combusts again or something so I ran into the living room and put it in the fireplace. And then I spoke kindly to the blow dryer and said “Dear sweet blow dryer please feel better soon and come back to life so that I can have nice hair and not have to buy a new one because I just bought new shoes.” And I left it there where it was safe.

The next day, I took a shower and washed my hair only to remember mid shower that I have no blow dryer and that I didn’t want curly hair today, I wanted straight hair. But if I just leave it wet it takes about a hundred hours to dry all the way on account of there being so dang much of it. So I did what any normal person would do; I proceeded to whip my head all around to try and make my hair dry faster. After I did that for a while, I grabbed sections of my hair and waved them around like a jump rope trying to get each section to dry. After about an hour and still with wet hair I braved up and rescued my blow dryer.

I plugged it in and waited…no fire…I clicked on the low…no fire…I clicked onto high…I could smell the smokey burning but no fire so I quickly quickly dried the worst parts. And then there was fire. So I rushed it back to the fireplace. Crisis averted.

I realized later that the dear teenage girl who babysits for me must think I am a lunatic because a blow dryer in my fireplace is probably one of the least weird things she has seen. But we all do what we must and some people are blessed saints such as she and her family who accept us even in the lunacy. And I had pretty hair. So problem solved. Until tomorrow.

Thursday, October 7, 2010

I'm back...and thankful!

Hello. Nice to meet you again. I feel like it has been forever. And I know you missed me. Because I am very much awesome. Basically the last two weeks have consisted of me being all “in a mood” and then these puppies that we rescued chewed through the power cord on my computer. Luke doesn’t like me using his computer because I “get everything all terrible” and load programs on his business and all that. But he finally relented (read: I stole his computer while he was at work and copied my files onto it and brought it with me to my job at school to write on while in between choirs)

Let me jump right in with Thankful Thursday. Two weeks of it.

First of all, I discovered that the back seat of my car no longer has visible car seats. I still have booster seats back there but you cant actually see those when you pull up next to me at a stop light or something when Im in the car by myself. It seems like a small thing. But my worst fear in life (after birds that used to be dinosaurs, street magic, and dolls, oh and horses) is being all soccer mom. Not that I don’t love being a mom, but I just really don’t want to be out in public and have people all “Aw, look at her with the ponytail and the sweatpants and the 14 boxes of Capri Sun. Suburban soccer mom.” It’s just a weird subset that I am trying to avoid. I won’t drive a minivan even though they are smaller than my SUV and way more convenient. My kids are into dance and music and art, so as of now its been pretty easy to avoid the crazy screaming sideline stuff. We did try soccer once with one of our girls. She picked a bouquet of flowers for the ref and got tangled up in the net running away from the ball. Anyhow, No more visible car seats. Awesome.

I saw my witch doctor this week. You know, the one with all the pills. And I’m all “Why am I crazier than normal lately and I have to take way more pills?” and he’s all, “Well, why do you think you are?” and I’m like “Listen dude. Some crazy crap has gone down over the last few weeks and it sucks hard core and all that but bottom line, do I need more pills?” And he was all “You definetly need pills, but I think you are cool with what you got going on everyday and here’s a refill for that.” So then I was like “Whew. So I’m not extra crazy then? I’m just all ‘processing’ the complete 180 my life has taken?” and he’s like “Yeah, normal people would even have a crazy time with all the crap you got dumped on you. But you…well just don’t stop taking the pills you already got K?” So basically I’m normal…for a crazy person. And that’s good.

I bought the best shoes over the last 2 weeks. Multiple pair of shoes. And pants and tights and leggings and jewelry. It’s been like the best thing ever.

So I’m back. And I’m trying to get caught up with this little blog. See you soon. Be thankful today!

Addendum: I am also thankful for talking to Bullseye today. Now there is one cool chick.

Monday, October 4, 2010

Blog absence. But I can explain. I don't have a laptop right now. We rescued dogs and they thanked us by eating my laptop cord. And my grey tights. And my carpet. Also a little ladybug toy thing. It's a good thing they are so cute.

Anyhow, I can't blog from lukes computer because all my stuff is in mine. Like how I will start like twelve posts an finish them here and there. So I'm not blogging from his computer. I'm blogging from my phone. Which sucks. For realz.

But I did get new yoga pants today and 2 new pair of shoes and a new purse. So there's that. I should be back up and running in a few days when I have a new cord. And then I can tell you about all the role modely things I plan to teach kids and how my yoga pants have his weird little piece in it right in he crotch that looks like a lady parts.

So there it is.