Feel All The Feelings!

Wow, I'm so amazed at this last episode of Grey's Anatomy. I'm completely flabbergasted that FOR THE FIRST TIME EVER, they had a scene that actually made sense, and someone said stuff that I actually agreed with!! AMAZING!

I seriously have no idea why I watch that show. I don't know how many times they've played out the same story lines. They're so completely uncreative that the characters have had to deal with TWO plane crashes within the last 3 seasons. Not to mention that the characters are so poorly written that they're all basically the same person. They all speak exactly the same way, and do all the same inappropriate things, They're all insane. If they were real people and I ever met any of them in real life, I would steer clear of them, ESPECIALLY if I found out that they were my doctors. And don't even get me started on the sex drama. As soon as there's a new character, you know it's just a matter of time before they sleep with everyone one by one. It's so smutty that it's almost embarrassing to admit that I watch it. Then there's the justification and rationalization for all the terrible things they do: patient doesn't want a certain treatment? Do it anyway, just as long as it works the patient doesn't need to know what you did to them. Want to cheat on your spouse? Go ahead, they were just being a jerk anyway. And then to add to all of this, the acting is laughable. Someone remind me why I watch this show?

Anyway, most of this last episode was the same drivel as always, but there was one scene that was a shining light. For a brief moment, I was actually quite moved, and inwardly shouted "YES!" because it touched on a principle that I think it so important. Then it went on to more of the same ol' stuff.

But I really want to tell you about this scene. I even typed up the dialogue and what was going on to post it because I want you to read it so I can blog about it.

BTW, if you're into this show, and you haven't seen the last couple of episodes, there are some spoilers ahead. Obviously. So don't read it if you want to be surprised. (Which you won't be. They don't do anything surprising on that show.)

So anyway, Derek the brilliant neurosurgeon just died (stupidly) in a car accident, which was totally his fault because he stopped in the middle of a u-turn on a winding mountain road to look for his cell phone, which was stupid in and of itself because he knew there was no reception!! Idiot. They couldn't have made it more obvious that they were trying to write his character off the show if they tried.

Everybody is dealing with his death in different ways. His wife took their kids and ran away, his friends are taking out their anger issues on every person who looks at them funny, two people decided to go to Iraq or Afghanistan or somewhere. Amelia, Derek's sister, who is also a brilliant neurosurgeon, says she's fine and just cracks jokes about Derek being dead.

Months and months after Derek dies, Amelia finally breaks. She is a recovering drug addict, and she buys some Oxy to get numb. Owen, her used-to-be-sort-of-boyfriend happens to run into her at her house in the middle of the woods (what a coincidence! You're here, too?) where she's having an internal fight whether or not she should take the Oxy. After admitting to Owen what's going on, and talking for a few minutes, this is the conversation that takes place:

Amelia: Every man I've ever loved has died, including my baby. [points to the sky] Thank you, universe!... I'm good, I got this, I'm fine. I'm telling you, I'm amazing... I'm handling the dead Derek thing really well. Except today... I went and scored Oxy from this junkie doctor.

Owen: But you haven't taken it?

Amelia: Not yet. But I might. That's the thing. I really actually might. I have been sober for 1,321 days, Owen. I was fine. It was managed. But I might.

Owen: All that stuff you're “managing?” You're not supposed to be managing it. You're supposed to be feeling it: grief, loss, pain, it is normal.

Amelia: It's not normal.

Owen: It is. It is normal. It's not normal for you because you've never done it.

Instead of feeling it, feeling the grief, and the pain, you've shoved it all down, and you do drugs instead. Instead of moving through the pain, you run from it. Instead of dealing with being hurt, alone, and afraid... [you] run from it... We do these things, we run off, and we medicate, and we do whatever it takes to cover it up and dull the sensation, but it's not normal. We're supposed to feel, we're supposed to love, and hate, and hurt, and grieve, and break, and be destroyed, and rebuild ourselves, and be destroyed again. THAT is human, THAT is humanity. That's being alive. That's the point. That's the entire point. Don't avoid it. Don't extinguish it.

[Amelia chokes back tears]

Amelia: Derek died.

[Owen nods]

Amelia: He died. I don't want to feel it! I don't think I can. I don't think I even want... I can't. I can't, I can't do this. [pulls out bag of oxy]

[Talking over each other]

Amelia: I can't!

Owen: If you don't...

Amelia: Shh! I can't do this!

Owen: You have to! If you don't, that bag of Oxy's not gonna be your last.

[Amelia looks at the bag longingly, but hands it over to Owen. He takes it. She breaks down in tears and falls to her knees. He falls to his knees with her and holds her as she sobs.]

Owen: You'll survive this, okay? Everybody does. It's perfectly normal. It's boring, even, it's so normal.

[end scene, lol]

Living life is hard and painful sometimes, and other times it's rewarding and joyful. As one of my heroes Glennon Doyle Melton says, life is brutiful (beautiful and brutal). The harsh realities of life are even more cruel when we feel like we can't talk about them, or face them, like what we feel is an accident. I really believe that we're supposed to feel all the feelings. If you believe in God or a creator or whatever, ask yourself, why would we be created with this brutiful spectrum of feelings if we weren't supposed to feel them all? Even if you don't believe in God, surely the principle of the necessity of opposites still hold true; to feel joy, we must also feel sadness, right?

Glennon Doyle Melton says this so perfectly when she talks about how we're all born sensitive to the world. When we start feeling weird about ourselves, or when we realize how rough the world is, we start trying to hide our real, sensitive selves behind whatever will numb us to the pain. I don't know how to stop that from happening or how to help others from the same fate. We could all use a little more sensitivity in our lives, though. We need more compassion for others and for ourselves. Maybe it takes daily self-reflection and meditation, or maybe the trick is to reach out for the safety net of a strong support system. Probably both. I'm trying to figure that all out.

Like Owen says, we're supposed to feel all of it: the wonderful, the terrible, and everything in between. Pretty good stuff for one of the worst shows on TV, right?

Christmas and the S.O.B.

Well, it's been over a year since I've posted anything. Can you believe it?! I can't. 2015 has completely flown by so fast, I have whiplash. Whenever I start something like this (eg the blog, or a journal, or pretty much anything ever), I start out all stoked and work hard on it consistently, and then the motivation or the ideas fade away. After my post about my butt-date, I couldn't think of a thing to write about. But for some reason, my fingers have been itching to type out something or other, so here we are again.

First of all, let me just get these random observations I made today out of the way:
1. Tic Tacs came out with a new flavor for the holiday season. What do you think their imaginations came up with? Give up? It's candy cane. So... mint? Is that somehow different than all of your other mint flavors? Is this really all the marketing department could come up with?
2. Makeup is equally ridiculous. I saw an ad for a new "Nude" palette of eyeshadow. I can't remember which brand it was. But there were like 3 different shades of green. Tell me, who exactly is your target market?

                           Maybe she's born with it. Maybe it's Maybelline. (But she's probably born with it.)

The Christmas season is upon us. The day after Thanksgiving, I went over to my friend's house to help her put up her tree and decorations. We listened to Pentatonix holiday music, and it was wonderful. A couple days after that, my roommates and I decorated our apartment. We even decorated stockings to hang above our fireplace.

                                                                                 Of course mine is the only blue one. 

My Christmas tree is soooo pretty. The colors are all silver and blue, and the lights twinkle. I wish we could keep it up all year round. Here are my favorite ornaments, though.

These are the ones with more sentimental value. I'm just realizing that most of them are snowmen. Oh, well. The snowman in the blue sweater is the ornament I got when I lived in Alaska. The mustachioed Minion is from a cereal box, but I think it's funny. The green flower I got from a cute boy in Hawaii when I was visiting Robyn there several years ago. The ballerina reminds me of my favorite ornament on my parents' tree. I tried to get one just like it, but it's made of porcelain, and I've just never found one. I just love that it's so delicate and graceful. Mine's not made of porcelain, but it's still pretty. Then there the ornament that just looks like a cup make out of wood, because, well, that's what it is. It's a little mini guampa I got in Paraguay.

What else is going on... Oh, I had my last final for the semester today. I really enjoyed my classes. I had a pathophysiology class that was really tough and I'll probably end up retaking it to get a better grade, but my professor was a rockstar. His name is Dr. Bracken; he's the kind of person that I want to be. He's been a doctor for a long time, but he's not bored of medicine, nor worn down by the medical system. He would get teary-eyed once in a while talking about certain patients or certain diseases. He had a lot of funny stories, too. One that I remember was when he was writing on a patient's chart that she was short of breath. Later on, he got called in by his bosses because the lady was in a huff about what he had written on her chart. That's when he realized that she was so mad because he had written in medical shorthand, "Patient is S.O.B." Poor little old lady.

In other news, I've once again started the process of losing weight. I'm trying to do things a little differently this time around. Whenever I go to the gym, I always feel better, and it also makes me want to eat better. So I've been going to the gym once or twice a day, and it's been really fun. As soon as it stops being fun, I'll try new things to keep me from getting bored or hating it. So far my favorite part has been Zumba, which is basically a big dance party. I've definitely got a lot to learn, seeing as my brain shorts out every time we have to do a move with our arms AND our legs at the same time, but I'll get better. If anyone ever wants to work out with me, you're welcome to come along. Especially if you're a hot guy. Then you're definitely welcome. But you know, even if you're not, that's cool, too. Speaking of hot guys, there's a LOT of eye candy at this gym. Why has it taken me so long to go the gym before? Who the heck knows, but I'm converted now.

Anyhoo, from my point of view right now, 2016 is looking pretty good. Bring it on!

The Update on my Butt; or, the Butt-date, if you will

So it occurred to me that I never updated most of you on my butt. Not that you'd ask "Hey, how's your butt?" in proper conversation, but let's be honest, nobody likes being proper. So go ahead, ask me.

How's my butt, do you ask? Fabulous, thank you.

My surgery, back in February, went so smoothly that it surprised me. I was so worried about the bad side effects of anaesthesia that I almost backed out. Even though the anaesthesiologist was about as comforting as a rat, I still went through with it. In the operating room, the last thing that I remember is that everybody was going about their business and not talking to me much. Then I woke up when they tried sticking a cannula in my nose for oxygen. It tickled my nose so much and I kept pulling it out. Also, my face itched sooooo much. I don't know what that was all about.

Anyhoo, then I spent two sleepy days in the hospital. My parents spent what time they could with me, watching movies. We should have brought games, that would have been fun, too. My cousin Sunny brought some beautiful flowers with the best card.

Recovery was actually fine. I had 3 weeks off of work, which I loved. People say they get bored being at home all the time, and I was happy as a clam. (As a side note, I just googled images of happy clams. Apparently there are a few restaurants called The Happy Clam. I'm sure their clams don't appreciate that expectation.)

The worst part about the whole experience was the painkillers. I only took the heavy-duty ones for about 4 or 5 days. Being on the painkillers was fine, it was getting off them that was terrible. I was nauseated and got huge headaches. I spent a day with my head on my mom's lap. I stopped taking those as soon as I could, and took ibuprofen every once in a while when I needed it.

I spent a couple weeks on crutches, too. That was a first. I didn't even mind it.

The first few weeks after the surgery, I felt like I should've been in one of those Dick and Jane books:

See Erin. See Erin sleep. Now see Erin. She is sitting up. Good job, Erin! Soon Erin can walk. Go, Erin, go! See Erin take painkillers. Oh, oh! Erin is funny. Funny, funny Erin.

No really, there were a lot of small victories for me. Sitting down instead of laying down was a big deal, especially when I could sit on Lefty (Lefty being my left butt cheek, in case you didn't catch that). Taking a real shower after like a week of spit baths. Going on a walk down the street.

Since then, I've been happily Pearl Wilson- free. I can't say I'm totally symmetrical, which was really my hope, but hey, I'm not complaining.

The reason I was thinking about this is because about a week and a half ago I got another MRI to see if Pearl was anywhere to be seen, and thankfully, it wasn't. I do have some minimal pain, but I think maybe that's from the scar tissue? Or maybe because the glutes on that side are messed up? I don't know. But it's nothing to worry about, since Pearl is gone. All that's left is a pretty monster size scar and a story about about a monster size tumor that I love to freak people out with.

So there ya go, you've all been updated on my bootay. Aren't you glad you asked?

Therapy Week 1: The Elephant Game

The first week of therapy was great. I liked my therapist right off the bat. His name is Darren. He seems honest and non-judgemental; nice, but not someone that sugar-coats everything. 

 It's weird opening up to a stranger. At the same time, it's also easy, because there's no history between you and no expectation of how you should or shouldn't act or feel.

Due to my cheese-for-brains memory, I don't remember everything that we talked about that first session. Mostly just get-to-know-you stuff. The thing we did that stands out the most is the Elephant Game. He offered me $20 if I could get him to say the word "elephant" in two minutes. I felt pretty silly at the get-go, mostly because I knew I wouldn't win, and that he had a point to the game that I was going to have to learn the hard way. The conversation went something like this:

Me: Okay, what's the name of the largest land animal?
Darren: What's the largest land animal?
Me: You know, big, grey, long trunk, giant ears, ivory tusks?
Darren: A pachyderm.
Me: No, the other name for it.
Darren: You mean Dumbo?
Me: That's a proper noun. I mean the layman's term for it.
Darren: Are you sure that's the largest animal?
Me: Yeah, pretty sure. What do you call that?
Darren: I think the largest animal is a blue whale.
Me: I said land animal.

And so on and so forth, with a lot of hemming and hawing and not answering the question until the two minutes was up. I was unfortunately just as poor after the game as I had been before it.

                                  This elephant looks happy, and that makes me happy!





Darren said that in all his years as a therapist playing the game, only two people won. I think what he said was that the people that won were much more direct with their requests, asking him, "Will you say the word 'elephant' for me?" They were also willing to give up the money in return for him saying the word. The things that I learned from this game are that you need to know what it is that you really want, and you need to be specific. The object of the game was to get Darren to say the word, not to have $20. So the money was just a distraction. For me, my ultimate goal is to be healthy, which encompasses a lot more than my pants size. Being skinny might be the reward at the end of it all, but if that's my focus, I'll lose sight of what I really want.

Does it make sense what I was trying to say? Let me try it this way. It's important to differentiate between what knowing what you want to happen and knowing what you want not to happen. Darren gave the example of when he goes to the hardware store and the store clerks ask him what he's looking for, he doesn't say, "Well, I don't want a hammer." Well, okay, what DO you want? "Not a screw." He'd be there a long time if the kept up the conversation that way. Same with my situation; if I just say, "I don't want to be fat," then that's going to get me nowhere fast.

At least that's what I got out of the elephant game. Darren could've had a totally different point, but that's what I remember.

I came up with a list of things that, to me, are signs of being healthy, broken down into 3 categories: physical health, emotional health, and financial health.

Physical health

1. People who are healthy don't just exercise, they've found something that they love to do. I admire my younger brother, who is constantly on the move because it makes him happy. Or my cousin's wife, who's found that she loves body building. I even have a friend who just tried out for a pro Ultimate Frisbee team; I didn't even know those existed. The most fun I've had exercising is playing a game called "Bacon" with a bunch of elementary school kids when I was in college. Can I just do that every day?

2. Healthy people stop eating when they're full. I know it doesn't take that much food for my belly to feel full. I want that to be enough for me to stop eating, rather than trying to fill the void I feel with food.

3. Healthy people have a normal sleep schedule. Of course I'm writing this at 3 AM, so I'm not doing so well with this goal as of right now.


Emotional health

1. Healthy people stay in contact with friends and family. It's so easy for me to get lost in my day-to-day life. Wake up, work, eat, nap, work, tv, eat, sleep, wash, repeat. A couple days ago I reconnected with a friend from school and I had so much fun. We had an "S" party: we ate spaghetti and drank smoothies, sat in our sweats on the sofa, and watched Star Wars. It was Spectacular. I learned that she is working on writing a book, and that she goes to writing conferences. Her husband plays the guitar. Being with them has reminded me that those are things that I'd love to do. So doing something healthy (being social) begets other healthy choices (like learning new things and developing hobbies). Anyhoo, I need to do that more often.

2. This just may be my perception, but methinks the less time people spend on screens, like TV, computer, phone, etc., the healthier they are. I know for a fact I spend way too much time with a screen in front of my face.

3. Healthy people have a job they enjoy. Maybe it's because they don't settle for a sucky job, or maybe it's because they have a better attitude at a job that others would consider to be sucky. Either way, I need to make some changes.


Financial health

1. Healthy people work smarter, not harder. Right now I have 2 jobs to pay off my debts from my car, my surgery from February, and life in general. I would love to get down to one job.

2. Healthy people save money. Living paycheck to paycheck is a terrible thing, and even worse when, after paying the butcher, the baker, and the candlestick maker, there's nothing left.



I'm going to add more to those lists, to be sure. But those things are a start.

Here's another picture of an elephant that makes me happy, just as a reward for you making it to the end of my post.

J.K. Rowling

 I always knew I liked J.K. Rowling. I mean, besides writing magical novels that leave the world spellbound, she seems kind and wise. Maybe a little like Dumbledore. Anyhoo, I've been saving this quote for a long time, and it seems like it would be appropriate to share it now while I'm writing about my weight issues...

 

 “'Fat’ is usually the first insult a girl throws at another girl when she wants to hurt her.

I mean, is ‘fat’ really the worst thing a human being can be? Is ‘fat’ worse than ‘vindictive’, ‘jealous’, ‘shallow’, ‘vain’, ‘boring’ or ‘cruel’? Not to me; but then, you might retort, what do I know about the pressure to be skinny? I’m not in the business of being judged on my looks, what with being a writer and earning my living by using my brain…

I went to the British Book Awards that evening. After the award ceremony I bumped into a woman I hadn’t seen for nearly three years. The first thing she said to me? ‘You’ve lost a lot of weight since the last time I saw you!’

‘Well,’ I said, slightly nonplussed, ‘the last time you saw me I’d just had a baby.’

What I felt like saying was, ‘I’ve produced my third child and my sixth novel since I last saw you. Aren’t either of those things more important, more interesting, than my size?’ But no – my waist looked smaller! Forget the kid and the book: finally, something to celebrate!

I’ve got two daughters who will have to make their way in this skinny-obsessed world, and it worries me, because I don’t want them to be empty-headed, self-obsessed, emaciated clones; I’d rather they were independent, interesting, idealistic, kind, opinionated, original, funny – a thousand things, before ‘thin’. And frankly, I’d rather they didn’t give a gust of stinking chihuahua flatulence whether the woman standing next to them has fleshier knees than they do. Let my girls be Hermiones, rather than Pansy Parkinsons.”

~ J.K Rowling

Fatty McFatFat

Alrighty, so a little background. I think I promised everyone more of my secrets, but let's be real, it's no secret that I'm overweight. That's something I've struggled with since I was young, and it's getting worse and worse and worse... I know it's a trial for everyone to be fit and healthy, but unless you've been clinically obese, you don't know what it's like to never be satisfied with what you eat. You can eat until you're perfectly ill and still want more.

For example, a few weeks ago I was craving cheesecake. So I bought the stuff for it, made it when I got home, and ate the whole thing that night. People, this was not some pansy out-of-the-box cheesecake. I'm talking like the really, really rich stuff that people only request "slivers" of; the real Fatty McFatFat stuff. When my plate (or pie tin) was empty, the only thing that I could think of (besides being mad at myself for eating a whole cheesecake) was whether or not the store was open so that I could go buy the stuff to make another one. Although I didn't buy more that night, I did like 2 days later. I'm sad to say that events like Cheesecakefest are all too frequent in my life. The past couple nights it's been Arby'spalooza up in here. Don't judge, okay? Their curly fries are delicious.

Everyone has a theory about why obese people are obese. The answer that makes the most sense to me is that food is an addiction the way that illicit drugs are an addiction: some people overeat to chase a high (because eating feels good while you're doing it), some overeat to numb feelings (because if you're focused on eating, or being sick from eating, you don't have to think about the crappy day you had, or the stack of bills on your desk).

 Food addiction is new in our vocabulary; the obesity epidemic is fairly new to us, too. The reading I've done on food addiction basically says that it's not accepted by everyone, that some people attribute obesity merely to a character flaw, like laziness, or gluttony. However, I doubt those who claim that food addiction is not a thing have ever obsessively thought about food over any other concerns in their life, nor have they spent so much money on food that they wonder if they'll be able to pay their rent. (Yes, I've done that, and I know, I'm cringing, too, just from typing that out; but I promised you secrets, and I promised myself I'd be honest.) I've read the material on food addiction, and it all rings true to me. In fact, reading about it was actually a relief, because it helped me realize that I have a problem that can be solved, rather than an incurable character flaw that causes embarrassment, self-hate, and shame. 

I invite you to read the article that helped me understand more about myself, http://authoritynutrition.com/how-to-overcome-food-addiction/ and to watch the accompanying video, https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Xn1cI8FNU6M.

Okay, right now you might be asking yourselves why I don't go see like a nutritionist or dietician, or even a personal trainer. Been there, done that. Done special diets. I was even vegan for 9 months last year, which by far was the longest diet change I've ever done in my life, and that, in and of itself, was a huge accomplishment for me. But the fact of the matter is that while they teach me healthy eating habits and good exercise routines, they don't teach me better coping skills for stress, or how to get myself out of a downward spiral of negative behaviors. They don't help me face that stack of bills on the counter, or help me to think positively about myself. In short, they don't get to the root of the problem.

On that note, think about this. When I was on my mission, I lost about 65 pounds. Walking miles and miles every day in high heat and humidity will do that to you. Here are some pictures of me looking pretty awesome:

 

I looked pretty good, huh? The funny thing is that even after all that weight loss, to me, I still looked the same in the mirror. And I felt the same way about myself. And I still ate like crazy whenever I was stressed or tired or being social, which on a mission, is all the time for all three things. So even though I weighed less, I still wasn't where I needed to be emotionally to make it stick. 

You see where I'm coming from? So now I'll try therapy for a while, and hopefully change the way I think, which will change my negative behavior.

Secrets

There's this really catchy song I've heard a few times on the radio lately that I really like: "Secrets" by Mary Lambert. The lyrics are

I've got bi-polar disorder
My shit's not in order
I'm overweight
I'm always late
I've got too many things to say
I rock mom jeans, cat earrings
Extrapolate my feelings
My family is dysfunctional
But we have a good time killing each other

[Pre-Chorus:]
They tell us from the time we're young
To hide the things that we don't like about ourselves
Inside ourselves
I know I'm not the only one who spent so long attempting to be someone else
Well I'm over it

[Chorus:]
I don't care if the world knows what my secrets are (secrets are)
I don't care if the world knows what my secrets are (secrets are) So-o-o-o-o what
So what
So what
So what

I can't think straight, I'm so gay
Sometimes I cry a whole day
I care a lot, use an analog clock
And never know when to stop
And I'm passive, aggressive
I'm scared of the dark and the dentist
I love my butt and won't shut up
And I never really grew up

[Pre-Chorus]

They tell us from the time we're young
To hide the things that we don't like about ourselves
Inside ourselves
I know I'm not the only one who spent so long attempting to be someone else
Well I'm over it



Just so you guys can hear the catchy tune, here's the video:

One thing that I really appreciate is when people are honest about who they really are. We've all got issues. Nobody's life is perfect. We are our own harshest critic and our own worst enemy, and because of that, I feel like people hide who they really are and what's really going on with them. That doesn't benefit anybody. 

One of my heroes is Allie Brosch, author of the blog Hyperbole and a Half (and also the inspiration for the title of my blog). She's open about her quirks, her embarrassing experiences, and her depression. I'm so grateful to her, and I owe her a lot for helping me realize that I'm not the only crazy person on the planet. I also love reading the comments on each blog post, because thousands of others feel the same way that I do about her writing. "Wow. I do the exact same thing." "This right here is my life." "This is me, all the time, every day. It's nice to know I'm not alone! I think we might not be the only ones!" "I really think you are me in a parallel universe, writing about the same things. I KNOW ALL THESE FEELS."

Those are quotes from the comments section after some of her blog posts. Because she is honest, people know that they are not alone, not crazy, and that we're all in this together.

Glennon Doyle Melton is another hero of mine and another truth-teller. Here's a video of her TED talk, which is worth watching over and over. She basically says what I'm trying to say right now, but like 4 zillion times better than me.

Anyway, with all of that said, let me tell you guys something new about me. 

I'm in therapy. 

That's probably anti-climactic. Whatever you were expecting me to say, it's probably disappointing for you to know that my big secret is that I talk to somebody about my problems for an hour a week. However, there's such a stigma attached to therapy that it's hard for me to admit this. When I started going a couple weeks ago, I even felt a little ashamed that I need help. Well, I'm over it. 

I'll get into the whats, whys, and whens later so you guys can know more of my secrets. But I'm going to write all about it, because honesty is cathartic. Writing will help me be accountable for what I learn. And who knows, maybe somebody will benefit a little from my crazy.