The Big Easy

Sometimes, I make things too complicated. Actually, often I make things too complicated. They call New Orleans "The Big Easy," and I should take this as a sign.

Thank you for all your input -- I got such great advice! After much back and forth, I've decided to go on my trip. My back seems to be healing. Well, I don't know for sure because I don't want to look under the bandages. Some call this denial, and I'm fine with this. It is a tactic I am also using in relation to my laptop, which will not boot up long enough for me to access any of my files. For a writer, this is sort of a death in the family, but denial is a stage of grief that I am embracing wholeheartedly.

The truth is that I tend to misplace anxiety. I haven't said anything on my blog yet, but the "life change" I've hinted at is starting a new job on Monday! I'm not sure what details to share about it. Basically, I'll be the head writer on a big prescription cosmetic account. For those of you who remember my psychic massage therapist, she predicted I'd get a great job "in four months" (this was in November). Weird. I'm really excited about it, but nervous as well. Change, in general, makes me anxious. Travel, in general, makes me anxious. And, when I found out that I may risk bumping into my friend's boyfriend in the middle of the night while getting up to pee, I flipped out. My thoughts were: I'm going to be so uncomfortable in the situation, I'm going to be unable to sleep, I'm going to be stressed out, I'm going to be worthless on my first day at my new job. It's like I have anxiety about having anxiety.

But, I think I'll be fine. Past experience has shown me I'll be fine. I've just been a bit overwhelmed with the medical stuff, wrapping up work at my current job, getting ready mentally for the new job, mourning my laptop. Plus, my monthly visitor stopped in to say, "Cheerio!" I've decided that while on Lexapro, I no longer feel like killing myself when I get my period (good!), but I feel like killing everyone else (bad). Larry, I apologize. Readers, don't worry, I didn't kill him, but my repetitive cursing at my dead laptop probably made him consider killing me.

So, I leave on Thursday morning. The itinerary, when I look at it, seems pretty fun:

• -She'll pick me up at the airport and we'll get dinner -- just the two of us.
• -She works on Friday, so I'll explore the city by myself. I actually love doing this. I just hope I can figure out the streetcars. I'll be right in the French Quarter, so I could probably wander there for hours. I'm thinking of doing a walking tour of cemeteries. I like that kind of thing.
• -Friday night, I'll have dinner with my friend and her boyfriend. It will be my first time meeting him. I've warned my friend that I'm a little nervous about the situation, so that removes some of the awkwardness for me.
• -Also, she assured me that she'd have a two-bedroom suite (though I'm still paranoid about the bathroom sharing).
• -Saturday, I'll have brunch with them, then explore a bit more, then hop a plane back home.

It's a really quick trip. I'm looking forward to finishing "Hawaii" on the plane, then throwing it in a trash can, though I may also want to wrap it up for my mom and give it to her as a Christmas gift with a note: "Mom, I think you are remembering this book incorrectly. I challenge you to a re-read."

Have you been to New Orleans? Any recommendations?
How about recommendations for dealing with anxiety? Don't say "just breathe deeply." If you do, I will never take you seriously again.

***
Today's gratitude:
1. My husband accepted my apology.
2. I am half an episode away from finishing "CSI" Season 10, meaning I can start watching it on TV. I'm a nerd.
3. I'm having a good hair day. C'mon, sometimes it's the little things in life, right?
4. Looks like I'll have 75-degree weather in New Orleans.
5. Either "Where the Wild Things Are" OR "Fantastic Mr. Fox" (finally) tonight.

When plans change

I'm a fan of plans. I'm not a fan of changing them. When things are in place, and then a wrench comes flying in my general direction, I panic. I'm definitely less uptight than I used to be. I can force my brain to shift, usually using a list to organize my thoughts around the new reality. But I still don't like the unexpected. And the universe seems to be saying, "too bad."

I had a fun weekend planned, involving a blogger lunch, a massage, potential shopping. Too bad. I woke up on Saturday and had another stupid hole in my back. At this point, I'm beginning to think this whole situation is giving me holes in my head. I'm just about fed up. I have to go back to the doctor tomorrow morning so we'll see what she says. At least I'm on antibiotics. I've just had to be pretty immobile, so as not to make the situation worse. So, I had to cancel my plans, and I did a lot of sitting on my ass.

The good?

• -I read 200 pages of "Hawaii," so I only have 200 left. Then I'll stop bitching about how long and dull this book is. I appreciate your pleadings for me to just stop reading it, but I'm a stubborn soul.
• -I watched about 7 episodes of "CSI" online.
• -I watched "Everybody's Fine," which was pretty good.
• -I read the new issue of Yoga Journal.
• -I cuddled with the cats. A lot.
• -I slept, without much anxiety about needing to get up and get moving, mostly because moving was off the agenda.

I didn't get to do my usual cleaning, but I didn't freak out. I didn't get to do yoga (still!) and I didn't freak out...too much.

So it goes.

Also, my friend in New Orleans launched a huge, heavy wrench at me. Her boyfriend was supposed to be out of town when I'm there, so I was envisioning lots of girl time. I've known this friend for 15 years, so I can wear my retainers around her and apply my face cream without caring. Well, now, she says her boyfriend will be there. I've never met him. It'll be the three of us...in her hotel room. Um, I'm not exactly comfortable with this. I'm going for such a short time (Thursday to Saturday) and now, instead of relaxed time with a best friend, I feel like I'm going to have to be "on." I'm going to have to be Making-an-Effort-Kim, asking this guy interview-style questions. I'm going to have to bring my fancy pajamas. Suddenly, this anxiety-free bonding adventure feels very different. I'm sure her boyfriend will be nice, and I do want to meet him. I just don't want to be third wheel for my entire stay.

In general, I don't really enjoy couple hang-outs. Larry and I don't really socialize together. Call that weird, but we just don't. I tend to spend time with my friends, usually one-on-one, and he does his own thing. Of course, we meet up with other couples for a meal here and there, but I don't really want him around my girlfriends who I rarely see. I want to talk to them about clothes and sex and why I don't see the appeal of the guy in Twilight. Larry would consider this some form of torture.

So, humor me. Play Dear Abby. Read the above paragraphs. What to do? I've considered just not going, but I think that's bitchy Kim talking. I think I just have to change my vision to adapt to the new circumstances. If I decide I really don't want to adapt (I am terribly inflexible), not going is an option. We'll see.

How do you handle plans changing?
Do you like to socialize with friends' significant others?

***
Today's gratitude:
1. I've found a salad concoction I really like. It's a mix from Trader Joe's -- spinach, walnuts, dried edamame, dried cherries and blueberries, raspberry vinaigrette... and I throw in kidney beans and avocado.
2. The weather has been so beautiful. It's almost summery already.
3. It's almost time for nighttime snack + "House Hunters International" on HGTV.
4. I had a good talk with my mom today.
5. The DVR is no longer overloaded, thanks to my sedentary state.

Newsflash: I can cry.

When I started on antidepressants, I worried I'd become an unfeeling zombie, emotionally Botox-ed, if you will. Yesterday proved this is not the case.

First, the F*@k My Life Tears:

I'm sorry for dragging you into the drama of The Things. Actually, I'm not sorry. This is my blog and I'll discuss gross medical procedures if I want to. I thought the drama was over. I got the stitches out yesterday morning. Oh how I was wrong.

I came home from work yesterday and peeked under the Band-Aid. The wound on my lower back was wide open. It looked like a bullet hole. I called the bitch of a doctor-on-call, who said I should get it taken care of immediately, but I could not find an urgent care center that did sutures. This is when I started crying. Thankfully, I have several medical friends. I called my friend-in-residency, my friend whose husband is in residency, and my nurse sister. The consensus was that I'd be fine until morning. I did manage to gross out my sister, which is quite an accomplishment. I believe it was when I said, "I can stick my finger in it." Sorry if you're eating. Larry would say you should learn not to eat while at the computer. Crumbs in keyboard = bad.

Speaking of bad situations with computers, my laptop died.

Ya, it wasn't a swell night.

I barely slept last night because I was so upset about the whole ordeal (and uncomfortable on my back). First thoughts (in this order):

• -I have to go back to the f-ing doctor and fork out another f-ing co-pay.
• -This better not affect my trip to New Orleans.
• -If I get an infection, I'm going to f-ing scream.
• -I have to cancel my massage appointment...again.
  
• -This means more time not exercising.

Realization of that last one is what got me crying again. Logically, I know not exercising isn't a big deal, but let me just say (or SHOUT) that THIS IS REALLY HARD FOR ME. I hate it. I'm not happy with the situation at all.

So, I went to the doctor this morning. She was shocked at what happened. She re-stitched me. And I'm on heavy-duty antibiotics twice a day for ten days. And I have to go back on Monday so she can make sure I'm, you know, alive. It makes me a little uneasy when the doctor leaves saying, "Ok, if you start to run a high fever and feel faint, please call right away." Alright, you have a great day too.

Being me, I decided to make a list of things that are good to help me stop shaking:

• -My biopsies came back normal (though it's really hard for Snarky Kim not to retort, "Well, then you didn't even have to have those f-ers removed." Shut up, Snarky Kim).
• -I got to talk to my sister last night.
• -I got to talk to my parents last night.
• -I got to talk to two good girlfriends and quickly forgot about my bullet hole.
• -I can always tell people I got shot. That's a good story.

Also, when talking to one of the aforementioned family members, I got some absolutely thrilling news. I can't quite share it yet, much like my own upcoming "life change" (every time I use this phrase, I start to think of menopause. I'm not going through menopause, just to clarify). Sorry to leave you hanging. You'll know soon. All I can say is that yesterday's news made me cry tears of joy.

So, no, I'm not emotionally Botox-ed. Now if only this medication didn't make me sexually Botox-ed. TMI?

***

Today's gratitude:

1. It's Friday.
2. Maybe I'll get a new laptop using our tax refund money.
3. I found "CSI" Season 10 episodes online.
4. I'm still eating despite the stress of this stuff.
5. It's calzones + DVR catch-up night.

For the sensitive souls, Part 2

All hail sensitive people! It seems that many of us describe ourselves as "highly sensitive." This makes me feel way less alone. It also makes me feel way less like a weirdo because, clearly, none of you are weirdos (except for you, Lauren, but you know this because we confirmed it earlier).

I wanted to talk about something that I think is closely related to sensitivity level: Stress.

In my opinion, stress is all relative, and it tends to be felt sooner and more intensely by sensitive people. I'm very aware of little changes in my routine or mood, so I'm more easily frazzled. I tend to thrive under pressure, so in some ways stress has "worked" for me. It's just too bad it kills my appetite and does a number on my blood pressure (and sanity). My sister, on the other hand, is one of those let-things-roll-off-me people. It takes a great deal to stress her out. She traveled to third world countries engaged in civil wars and contracted a food-borne illness and a nail fungus, but remembers this as an "adventure." This is why we are so different.

This week, my stress level has been a bit higher due to things like allergies, minor sleep deprivation, a small side project, more meetings than normal, Larry's work stress, an overly full DVR (I hate how those little timer icons tell me I have 1 day before a show is erased -- the pressure!), minimal exercise, trip to New Orleans next week, and an upcoming life change (details to come -- keep in mind that I'm sensitive so "life change" could mean a change in yogurt brand; I'll keep you guessing). Last night, I watched "Brothers" (so intense!) and enumerated the hundreds of ways my life could be more complicated, but then decided that's just as effective as someone confronting anorexia with, "But there are starving people in Africa!"

The truth of the matter is that I'm sensitive and I have a tendency to be a bit more overwhelmed than the average person. I guess I'm prone to overstimulation. I should probably avoid things like laser light shows. The thing is that I take in a lot, and I process and store almost everything I take in, instead of just sending it to the "recycle bin" of my brain. So, my mental hard drive feels at capacity faster and more often than, say, my sister's. My sister's brain can juggle a new nursing career, home renovations, a puppy, and an upcoming trip to Cuba that requires sidestepping the embargo by obtaining pharmaceuticals from a company in Florida to bring to missions as humanitarian aid. Yes, I'm in awe of her. I get flustered thinking about going out past 10pm on a weeknight.

On a somewhat daily basis, I feel like I'm going through my existing "files," organizing and updating and deleting as necessary (Larry, am I doing well with this computer analogy? I thought you would appreciate it). I counteract that "too much" feeling by making lists, creating order in my own way. I'm sure the routines and rituals of anorexia helped bring some calm to the madness too.

These days, I have to eat healthfully and learn to deal with sensitivity, and the propensity for higher stress levels, in a better way. I admit I'm not always great at this. Sometimes, I'm just a spaz. But, like I said, making lists helps me. Crossing things off lists also helps me (which is why, when I'm super stressed, I put "take a shower" on my list. I don't think I'll forget. I just want to cross off that sucker). Anything involving organizing helps me. I get a thrill out of using Microsoft Money. And I find that making all the cereal boxes face the same way in the pantry gives me a sense of rightness with the universe. Same with taking inventory of the fridge and making a dinner schedule. Actually, schedules in general are good. I salivate at structure.

Other stress relievers:

• -Reading (unless it's "Hawaii," as this book is bringing me only pain)
• -TV
• -Movies
• -Cooking (yes, this calms me down. I love that cooking leads to a product I can enjoy right away. I'm a fan of instant gratification)
• -Yoga (how I miss thee!)
• -Cuddling with kitties
• -Cleaning and doing laundry

What does it take for you to get "stressed out"? How do you deal with stress?

***
Today's gratitude:
1. I finished my small side project, a little website for an interior design company.
2. I actually remembered to water my plants.
3. Another movie night tonight. I'm thinking "Fantastic Mr. Fox."
4. Stitches come out tomorrow morning! Hallelujah.
5. Just about over the hump for this week.

For the sensitive souls

I remember the day I started kindergarten somewhat clearly. I remember my mom attempting to drop me off. I say "attempting" because I attached myself to her leg and with all the strength in my four-year-old body, I would not let go. I cried and cried. When I watched her walk away, it felt to me like I would never see her again, like the world as I knew it was ending. Of course, I got the gist of the new routine, but I would remain an easily affected kid. Years later, as a seventeen-year-old going off to college at Notre Dame, I felt just like I had in kindergarten -- terrified. I suppose many people feel anxiety about this sort of thing, but I always felt like mine was heightened, sometimes unmanageable. My parents sensed it too. I was the kid who came home crying many days during junior high. I was always worried about people thought of me. I picked up on negative feelings way too easily, and responded way too wholeheartedly. I suppose this is why I took to writing at such a young age. I had to vent somehow.

My dad was known to say things like, "Kim, you gotta let things roll off you."

I understood his advice, logically, but I had no idea what this meant on an emotional level. Let things roll off me? This sounded nice -- to have a slick, slippery exterior that no unwanted feeling or circumstance could latch onto. But, I felt like my exterior was covered in tree sap, welcoming anything to stick right to it.

My dad's assessment was that I was "too sensitive," while my mom elaborated by saying, "It's like your radar is always up." That sounded right. I was too aware of my surroundings, others' feelings. Overwhelmed was the best way to describe my usual state. Anorexia was a nice, illusory solution for this. I didn't feel much of anything when I was starving.

As I've been in recovery, I've realized that my sensitivity is just something I have to accept about myself. I've gotten more confident and secure in who I am, so I'm not as easily affected. I guess this is just a factor of maturity. But, I'm still sensitive. I still overanalyze and overthink. I still get emotional about "little" things. I'm way too observant for my own good. I'm easily paranoid. Things affect me very easily. I can't even take Sudafed without telling Larry that I feel like I'm going to have a heart attack.

I'd always looked at sensitivity as a negative, something I had to change about myself. What I've realized is that it has many positives. I'm not really interested in making myself less sensitive anymore. More resilient? Yes. But, not less sensitive.

I read this over at Beyond Blue and thought many of us sensitive people could nod along:

People with high sensitivity are very intelligent, intuitive, perceptive, and creative. They're very diligent about caring for others and wanting things to be at peace. Where the difficulty lies is that the world isn't always at peace.

Challenges begin in childhood, when as toddlers and pre-schoolers they pick up on subtle signals, thoughts, moods and other sensory energy from home, in the neighborhood, from TV or school, or from their playmates -- and they don't know what to do with it.

In a short time, the world's problems become their own. Millions of highly sensitive people right at this moment are carrying a heavier burden than the rest of society just because they're perceptive of the world's discord, which is coming at them every day from a laundry list of sources.

This is where many sensitive kids and adults are right now, thinking that all these energies going on inside them are because something's wrong with them.

In a follow-up post, they discuss the pros of sensitivity (along with the cons, though I'm very familiar with those and don't need to review):

1. Sensory detail: One of the prominent "virtues" of high sensitivity is the richness of sensory detail that life provides.

2. Nuances in meaning: The trait of high sensitivity also includes a strong tendency to be aware of nuances in meaning, and to be more cautious about taking action, and to more carefully consider options and possible outcomes.

3. Emotional awareness: We also tend to be more aware of our inner emotional states, which can make for richer and more profound creative work as writers, musicians, actors and other artists.

4. Creativity: Psychologist Elaine Aron estimates about twenty percent of people are highly sensitive, and seventy percent of those are introverted, which is a trait that can also encourage creativity.

5. Greater empathy: High sensitivity to other people's emotions can be a powerful asset for teachers, managers, therapists and others.

Do you consider yourself highly sensitive? How does this trait affect you positively and negatively?

***
Today's gratitude:

1. Netflix movies for the week include "Fantastic Mr. Fox," "Brothers" and "The Informant." Anyone have any reviews to share?

2. My mom surprised me by ordering a cute shirt online and sending it to me. It showed up yesterday :)

3. Benadryl. My sinuses are much better today and I slept better last night. The "offness" has passed. I really do freak out too easily.

4. It's just about lunch time.

5. Stitches out in 2 days! Yay!

Shoe dropping

For those of us who have experienced "the black hole" (whether that be depression, eating disorder, traumatic event, etc), I think happiness is somewhat feared. We've only known it as a temporary state, a tease that suggests we can live our lives freely, without pain. We wait for it to leave us, bracing ourselves for the resulting darkness. I've always sort of envied people who don't have to clench their teeth during emotional states, holding on with fear or anticipation. Side note: I've been a teeth clencher/grinder at night since I was in elementary school. I guess I envy people who have never been at war with themselves. They trust the stability of their feelings. Or, if there are fluctuations, they trust the ebb and flow.

I don't trust this yet.

A couple weeks ago, I told my friend that I felt like I was "waiting for a shoe to drop." Waiting for it to slip off my big toe and come crashing to the floor in dramatic fashion. She said, "Why? I mean, your medication is working." I said, "Yeah, you're right," and left it at that, though I wanted to say, "But is it really working? What if it's just in my head? What if it's just working for now? What if it stops working?" I do fear these things.

The past couple days, I've felt a little off. I've had a really bad headache (teeth grinding? allergies?), and I feel tired. After sleeping 12 hours Saturday night, I dozed off while reading "Hawaii" yesterday afternoon. I suppose I should blame the book and let it go. Still, I do feel a bit lethargic, a bit "blah." I realize "normal" people have off days. It's no reason to sound a fire alarm, so I should step away from the glass case and drop the ax. It's just hard for me to accept off days without getting antsy. I still feel generally calm, pleased with life. I'm just blah -- not as enthusiastic, kind of fatigued or something. I'm trying to trust it'll pass. I do get allergies in Spring. The cats have been a little too loving at 2am. There are probably logical reasons for feeling off.

What are your off days like? Can you attribute them to anything specific?

Do your pets wake you up at night? What do you do about it?

And, lastly...
Are you a teeth grinder? Any remedies? I have a guard so my teeth are protected, but I still get a sore jaw and headaches. Sometimes, I consider hypnosis...

***
Today's gratitude:

1. Healthcare passed in the House! While I'm sure there will be kinks to be worked out, I think this is a GREAT step in the right direction.

2. Monday means Anthony Bourdain. Yes, sometimes I associate days with TV shows. I'm not ashamed.

3. I get my stitches out this week (Thursday, to be exact). I haven't done yoga, like a good, compliant patient. I miss it.

4. New Orleans next week!

5. Maui at the end of April. Larry and I are starting to get excited...

My $0.02 on healthcare

As I type this, the House is debating landmark healthcare legislation. It saddens me that it's so "landmark." To me, it's not revolutionary; it's just common sense. But, in our country, sometimes common sense is revolutionary.

Don't get me wrong, I'm happy to be American. I may have faked a Canadian accent and sewn a Canadian flag on my backpack while traveling circa 2003, but could you really blame me? All in all, I have faith in "the people." I guess it's that bit of optimism in me. I have faith that we'll reform our healthcare system because, hey, it needs reforming.

A couple years ago, I quit my office job to freelance full-time. It was exhilarating at first. I had a couple solid clients, income was good, and I never had to change out of my pajamas if I didn't want to. Then I realized that I couldn't get approved for health insurance. I wasn't on a single medication. I didn't have a single ailment requiring active treatment. In fact, aside from my annual physical, I hadn't been to the doctor in years. However, I'd been in an inpatient facility for anorexia EIGHT YEARS BEFORE. That was it. I was out. Ultimately, I decided to go back to a "regular" job. Part of the reason was that I learned I need structure and predictable paychecks. I don't do well with "random." But, another big factor was health insurance.

I find it ridiculous that the best country in the world (arguably) can't get it together to take care of its citizens. I find it just as ridiculous that there are people protesting healthcare reform. Really? I'm just as cost-conscious as the next person, but the Congressional Budget Office (which is objective and nonpartisan) has reviewed the bills and said that reform would save us money in the long-run. So, what's left is the whole socialism scare tactic. People think that healthcare reform means "big government." I guess I can see their point when there was a public option in the bill. I didn't say I agree, but I see their point. In my opinion, there should be a public option. There should be a government health plan that we can choose if we deem it better than what Aetna, Blue Cross, or any of the others are offering. It's not any more socialist to have government healthcare than it is to have our postal system, public schools, and libraries. And, I guess the protesters would be opposed to the dudes doing work on the freeways because they work for the government, too.

But, this new bill, the one being debated right now, does not include a government option. The Democrats let that one go. The new bill is just as capitalist as ever. It involves the same private insurance companies we all know and (don't) love. All that's changing is that they won't be able to cut off your insurance, like, mid-chemo. They won't be able to deny coverage based on preexisting conditions, or treatments received for problems EIGHT YEARS AGO. And, hey, maybe those who suffer with eating disorders could actually get adequate care. Because treatment teams ain't cheap. And, eating disorders are, you know, deadly.

I don't see how these positive changes warrant putting a Hitler mustache on an Obama poster. The government isn't threatening freedom by stepping in here; they're giving us freedom -- the freedom to choose health insurance. They're forcing health insurance companies to treat people, instead of just profiting off premiums paid by healthy people, while denying coverage to those who really need it. Encouraging health insurance companies to be competitive sounds like the hallmark of capitalism to me.

Excuse me while I step down from my soapbox...

What are your thoughts on the current healthcare debate?

***
Today's gratitude:

1. Larry and I went for a hike on a new trail today. It was called the Holy Jim trail. I think whoever named it was saying, "Holy Jim, why is the road to the trail head so freaking long and bumpy? Holy Jim, why are there so many people here?" We didn't hike all the way to the falls. We got tired, and hungry. We weren't prepared for it to be such an adventure.

2. I slept a total of 24 hours this weekend. That would be 12 hours each night. Is it just me who counts hours slept?

3. I'm just about to take an afternoon shower and curl up with a book for a couple hours. Yes, I'm still working on "Hawaii." Mom, I don't see the appeal of this book.

4. Stuffed peppers and salad on the menu for dinner.

5. HGTV.

Optimist or pessimist?

Is the glass half empty or half full? When asked this question, I give a smartass reply, like, "Well, I don't know. What's in the glass? I mean, what you're getting at is whether or not I'm an optimist or a pessimist, right? Well, if it's a glass of poop and I say it's half full, I'd say that's pretty pessimistic."

I'm a fan of sarcasm. The more bitter, the better. I love a good dose of good-humored cynicism, a dash of contemplative skepticism, a snarky quip here and there. I've always found all-out cheery, bubbly people to be slightly obnoxious, maintaining that if you think about life hard enough, there is always something to make fun of, something to criticize, something to find absurd and ridiculous. If you're all smiles, you're not using your brain.

I suppose that conclusion is bitchy in itself.

To the casual observer, I would appear to be a pessimist. After all, I can rattle off a list of worries and "what ifs" with frightening ease. I can tell you all about global warming and how text messaging is eroding intelligence and how the economy is a big house of cards. I spend most of my day observing oddities and asking myself life's big questions, like, "Why do people rip off 1/4 of a donut and put the rest back in the box?" and "Is foot-tapping really necessary?" In a depressed state, I would let these things annoy me. Now, in my normal state, they amuse me. Yes, I'm amused. I'm not the cranky kind of pessimist. I'm the giggly kind of pessimist. Some would call this an optimist.

For all my little anxieties and expressed doubts in humanity, I am hopeful at heart. I think I've used cynicism and sarcasm to ward off hopes because they are so strong (and I know I'm super sensitive to disappointment). The thing is I do expect good things to happen, so much so that I feel the need to tame myself, to reel in my exuberance (there's a word most people would not associate with me). As much as I whine about how hard the publishing industry is, for example, I do expect to get published some day. I don't know when that day will be, or if it will involve the novel my agent is currently trying to sell, but I'm confident it'll happen some day, and that makes me happy. I guess my lenses are pretty rose-colored, though they may appear dark if you take me too seriously.

Do you consider yourself an optimist or a pessimist?

Oh, and for the record, I don't think the glass has poop in it. You?

***
Today's gratitude:
1. It's Friday!
2. Friday = DVR night ("Project Runway," etc) + calzones.
3. I'm thinking of exploring a new hiking trail this weekend.
4. My anxiety about the "no yoga for 10 days" mandate has completely dissipated.
5. Sleep. I'm exhausted today and can't wait to get in bed tonight and sleep in tomorrow.

Why I love yoga

Well, I can't stretch at all until I get these damn stitches out, so I thought I'd take a few minutes to pay homage to yoga. This is like writing a letter to your lover who is out of town on business.

I'm a little embarrassed to love yoga as much as I do. I mean, it's so trendy. And, especially in Southern California, there are so many collagen-filled, $5-bottle-of-water-drinking "health nuts" who make a ballet performance out of Sun Salutations. I've mentioned before that I'm judgmental, right? Seriously though, I'm pretty sure I saw one of the Real Housewives of Orange County at my studio once.

It seems that lots of people in recovery from an eating disorder take to yoga. For some, it may be because yoga is a form of exercise that doesn't seem like exercise. It can be passed off as meditation, for example, thereby flying under the radar of treatment teams banning physical exertion of any kind. But, lots of us stay with yoga even when we're "allowed" to exercise. Yoga is really the only exercise I do. I take short walks, but more for my brain than my body. I do some free weights in an attempt to fend off osteoporosis. I have little interest in cardio. Calorie-burning just isn't much of a driver for me these days. I think the attraction to yoga for me, and for many Type A personalities, has to do with the discipline involved, along with the fact that yoga demands surrender (which I think we all crave).

At first glance, yoga is a bit dichotomous. It's associated with carefree hippies, but it has all these strict poses and specific routines. Sun salutations can be tweaked, much like recipes, but they go a certain way, typically. You can go to a yoga studio almost anywhere in the world and kind of get the flow of things. The postures have been the same across centuries and across cultures. That's something that my structure-loving, change-hating brain appreciates.

What I've realized over time is that it's not really that dichotomous. Yes, there is structure in the poses, but the ultimate goal is freedom. That's the challenge -- surrendering to the poses, not doing them better than everyone else. When I started yoga in 1999, I was aspiring to get back to the flexibility and strength I had in gymnastics. I was fixated on everyone around me. I wanted to be just as flexible as them, or -- who am I kidding? -- more flexible. These days, my practice (eh, I hate that term, it's so pretentious) is entirely different. I don't care what someone on the next mat is doing. Often, I practice alone so there is nobody on the next mat. It's about me and where I'm at with my body on that particular day.

I used to fight to stay in poses. I have cursed at many a teacher under my breath while holding this

(Side Plank)

and this

(Chair)

and this

(Boat)

I have cursed my body when I couldn't do this

(Warrior 3)

or this

(Half moon)

Now, I very often take child's pose for a break. I'm just not so hard on myself. And, I've gotten better! Downward dog, which used to be a strain, is a resting pose for me now. Same with chair pose. I wasn't trying to be stronger in these poses; it just happened. I remember thinking during half moon, "Holy hell, I'm never going to be able to look up and keep my balance in this pose." Now, I can. I didn't have to struggle so much; it just took some time and patience. I still fall, and I usually laugh when I do (though I do still have my cursing days). I'm more forgiving of my body and myself because of yoga. I'm more good-humored because of yoga. I have better posture because of yoga (which is good since I'm so tall and have a tendency to slouch). I know how to breathe because of yoga (before, I used to think inhaling meant sucking my belly in and exhaling meant pushing my belly out; yoga taught me it's the opposite. I have to think that's helped in anxious moments). I love the poses and the routine of yoga. I do well with outlines, in which I have the freedom to be creative. A yoga series to me is like an outline. You may set out with a specific goal in mind, but it can change along the way. Much like life.

Do you do yoga? If no, what's your impression of it? If yes, what do you love or hate about it? Do you practice at home (with DVDs, podcasts, etc) or in classes? I usually create my own routines, or I do "Inhale" on Oxygen network or Dave Farmar podcasts. I also get lots of ideas from Yoga Journal.

***
Today's gratitude:

1. Well, I did something very unlike me and bought a plane ticket, rather impulsively, to visit my friend in New Orleans for a couple days! I go April 1-3. I'm super excited!

2. This no yoga thing is actually going just fine. It's good to take a break sometimes to realize how much I really like it, but don't have to do it.

3. "Broken Embraces." I watched this last night. I really like Spanish movies, and Pedro Almodovar is always a great storyteller.

4. My immune system. It seems to be fending off whatever it is my coworker keeps coughing up. Why do people come to work sick?!

5. Dreading downtime. I'm grateful for this because I used to find safety in downtime (aka isolation) and dread activity. Now, with the weekend approaching, I'm more excited for activity!

Snacks

This is my first official product review! I got a few samples of the 18 Rabbits granola bars in the mail (along with a cute button and a sticker. I love buttons. Mind you, I'm aware that it is no longer the eighties, when it was fashionable to affix buttons to one's jean jacket, but I still love them).


To be perfectly honest, I totally spaced on checking the nutrition facts (good for me, bad for you), but 18Rabbits.com has all the information you need. Some adjectives of choice: authentic, natural, real, nutritious, wholesome. I'll also add delicious, because they are. This is me eating the Funky Figs and Cherries bar while out shopping on Sunday. I look kind of annoyed, but I think this is just because I'm not used to taking pictures of myself eating something. I don't know how you food bloggers do it. Why does my hand look so huge?


I loved it. These have my ideal bar texture -- chewy, but not too soft or too hard. I ate this kind of fast because I was on a shoe mission, but I really enjoyed it. The chunks of cherries and figs were great. It filled me up until I got home, which was my goal.

I know lots of people in recovery from eating disorders have a love-hate relationship with bars. They equate bars with "recovery refeeding," kind of like Boost or Ensure in food format. My affair with Luna bars began in treatment, after all. Personally, I love bars. I'm somewhat lazy, so having something that's quick and easy, especially when I'm at work, is kind of essential. I have 2-3 snacks per day, and one of them usually involves a bar. For most of my snacks, I combine TWO things from this list (for example, I'd have a string cheese and ak-maks with a piece of fruit, or a bar and a glass of chocolate soy milk):

• -String cheese and ak-mak crackers
• -Trader Joe's packet of almonds or trail mix (I love that they have these in snack portions)
• -Gourmet popcorn (Gourmet or go home, that's what I say. My cats agree)
• -Clif Z Bar
• -Chocolate soy milk (Trader Joe's has these in single servings too)
• -Juice
• -Yogurt
• -Cottage cheese
• -Chips: My favorites are tortilla chips, Sun chips, Trader Joe's sweet potato chips
• -Carrots and hummus
• -Luna bar
• -Piece of fruit: I usually go for apples, oranges, pears, bananas
• -Bowl of granola with soy milk
• -Bowl of ice cream, or frozen yogurt with toppings (nuts, granola, berries, chocolate chips)
  
• -Cookie
  

I'm much more flexible than I used to be. I change these up pretty often, and I'm always looking for new ideas. I used to have a set meal plan that dictated what my snacks would be, exactly. Now, I see what I feel like when snack time comes and I consult a mental list of options. Snacks have been pretty important to me in recovery. Unless I go out to a meal and eat a lot more than usual, I need to have snacks. My body is pretty used to that, so it's not as much of a struggle as it used to be. My biggest red flag is the disappearance of snacks. That's always the first thing to go when I'm struggling. I was never really a meal skipper, but I'm notorious for skipping snacks.

What about you? What are your favorite snacks?

***
Today's gratitude:

1. You guys! Thanks for all your encouragement regarding The Things. I slept in today instead of doing my usual walk or yoga. I admit it was hard. I was kind of out of it. I really do love my morning routine! Oh well. I actually used a few spare minutes to cuddle with the kitties in bed and jot down some writing ideas.

2. I have a fun-sounding freelance thing that just came my way.

3. We're watching "Up in the Air" tonight!

4. It's another beautiful day in Southern California.

5. I really have nothing stressing me out. At all.

Holy moley

I don't like the word "mole." It's gross. So, in this post, moles will be referred to as "The Things." I'm more comfortable this way. You are, too. Trust me.

I've always had The Things on my back. A few really big ones. Cindy Crawford had one on her face and it was considered beautiful, so I didn't think much of them. Enter my new doctor, on a mission against The Things because she had a patient who died of skin cancer in his twenties. I'm very easily paranoid, so I let her talk me into coming back to have The Things removed. She assured me it would be "no big deal."

Liar!

It was much more of a production than I realized it would be. It started out just fine -- me on my belly, closing my eyes, lulled to sleep by...being on my belly, closing my eyes. Then came the shots! I find it ironic that the stuff that makes the procedure painless is painful. Lidocaine hurts! She encouraged me to just focus on the People magazine in front of me. I tried, I did. But I was turned to the page about Marie Osmond's son's suicide. This did not make me feel calmer. So I flipped a few pages...to the Sea World tragedy. I was really close to asking her for a Highlights magazine, so I could reminisce about the joys of youth, when I didn't have to worry about The Things.

My doctor is one of those doctors who likes to over-inform her patients. She had to show me the tool she uses to "punch out" The Things. I would have preferred not to see this gadget. It's basically like this pen cap with sharpened edges that she presses about a half inch (!) into the skin, then extracts along with The Thing in question. Thanks to the Lidocaine, I didn't feel any of this madness, but then she had to go and show me The Thing. She said, "Isn't it cool?" and I said, "Um, do you want vomit on your floor?"

There were two more after that. Complete with cauterizing and stitches and bleeding and bandages. I can't shower for 24 hours and Larry is supposed to apply ointment. I hate the word "ointment" almost as much as I hate the word "mole." I feel betrayed. I feel misled. I summed this up by texting Larry with a simple, cryptic message: "Boo:("

Before I left, she gave me instructions for cleaning and whatnot, and said to return in 10 days to have the stitches removed. Then she mentioned that I should be careful with moving too much. Anorexia has been sort of chilling out these days, but this not moving command brought it to full attention.

"I can't exercise?" I said.

"No, starting with taking the elevator instead of the stairs when you leave today."

"For how long?"

"Until you get the stitches out. Walking should be okay, but no stretching."

10 days without really moving? Granted, I only do yoga and walking and some weights, but I consider this little exercise routine important to my health and happiness. It helps with some anxiety, keeps anorexia pretty quiet. And, I enjoy it, especially since I've eased up on how structured I am with it (or have I?). I skip days here and there, I avoid the "have to" about it (I thought). But, 10 days? That's hard for me to swallow. Literally. I have a lump in my throat.

Have you been forced to be sedentary before? Was it hard for you?

Please know that I realize I sound ridiculous. It's just 10 days, etc, etc. I never said I wasn't a little nuts.

***
Today's gratitude:
1. It's 80-something degrees in Southern California today. Beautiful day!

2. Strangely, the time change isn't affecting me too much. I woke up before the alarm today.

3. I'm really happy lately!

4. Lauren, a psychology student, asked me to do a guest post about my experience with anorexia. You can read it here.

5. The Things are gone.

Yee-Haw

If you met my husband, you would never guess that he was raised by a cowgirl. The guy loves his computers, stays inside to avoid skin cancer (and play on his computers), has little patience for animals other than cats, dislikes country music (though we both enjoy "Goodbye Earl" by the Dixie Chicks for some bizarre reason), and has an aversion to plaid, leather, boots and hats. However, he was, in fact, raised by a die-hard cowgirl.

Larry's mom lives on a ranch out in Palm Desert with a few horses of her own. When she invited us out for the Palm Springs Rodeo, I wasn't really sure what to expect. I've been to a rodeo once, in Calgary, but I was young and on a family vacation (meaning, it's highly likely I was pretending NOT to enjoy myself, just to be difficult).

We went to brunch at The Filling Station, my favorite breakfast place in Old Town Orange, before we got on the road. Larry got his beloved breakfast burrito. I got the spinach/mushroom/Swiss omelet, which was delicious.

I remember the days of freaking out over eggs. I used to demand egg whites, and I would never have cheese on the eggs. That would be like a fat fest. These days, I don't even think about this stuff. And I don't substitute fruit for the greasy potatoes; I eat the greasy potatoes (and sometimes get fruit on the side, too. I had an apple in the car, so I skipped the $5 side of fruit). Anyway...

Two hours later, we arrived in Palm Springs where it was like a hundred degrees. I tried on some hats.

This is us taking a "shade break" a little later. This is when I mention that I should have purchased a hat. This is when Larry mentions our risk of skin cancer at least four times.


I'm not sure what I think about rodeos. Honestly, it made me a bit uncomfortable. The first event featured dudes riding angry horses. I don't know the technical name for this event. Basically, they put a strap on the horse's ass that pisses it off, causing it to buck. The goal for the rider is to stay on as long as possible. I realized that I was not understanding the point because I kept cheering any time the horse tossed the rider. Oops.

I also cheered during the steer-wrestling event when the steer escaped the grasp of the crazy man leaping from his horse to tackle it.


And I also cheering during the roping event when my animal friends ran free from the lasso. This one was especially weird to watch. First, they get the rope around the animal's neck, then wrestle it to the floor and tie its feet as fast as possible.


There were PETA protesters outside the event, and I can understand why they were protesting. I mean, I like these guys:


Larry assures me that the animals are just fine. They're domesticated, this is fun for them, etc, etc. I suppose you could liken wresling a steer to me grabbing my fluffy cat's neck to flip her over so I can wipe poop from her butt. She still loves me.

I wouldn't choose to go to another rodeo, but I love my mother-in-law, and was happy to support her. She did great with her drill team. It's basically like synchronized swimming on horses...and not in water. That's no small feat since horses can be so easily spooked. Coordinating six horses must take quite a bit of work.


We met up with her after to congratulate her. Isn't she cute?


And isn't Larry cute with my purse? I think so.


We had a beautiful drive home. I really do love California.


We watched some shows on DVR and ate pizza. I had 5 of 6 slices of my pizza (we each get our own because Larry likes the Thai chicken and I don't). Thankfully, I was so tired that I went to bed at 9:30 and pretty much didn't notice the time change. Except that it's almost 6pm right now and still light out...

Have you ever been to a rodeo? What do you think of them from an animal rights perspective?

***
Today's gratitude:
1. It's official: I like shopping. Thanks to those of you who recommended Bare Escentuals. I bought some make-up today.

2. I have the feared mole-removal doctor appointment tomorrow, for the purpose of avoiding skin cancer.

3. Condo is clean, clothes are clean, all is clean.

4. Larry joined a computer gaming group that has events a few nights per week. Yes, he's a nerd, but I'm just so happy he has a hobby he enjoys. And, it allows me to have my "me time" without guilt :)

5. I dropped off some clothes at Goodwill today.

Guest post: Seeing your wife through depression

When I went on medication, the psychiatrist, Dr. M, said that my husband would probably notice changes before I did. He shouldn't have told me that because for the past month, I feel like I've bugged Larry with questions like, "Do I seem different?" I've wondered if I'm acting funny, if I'm annoying in my budding cheerfulness. At times, I've thought that this "feeling good" thing seemed too good. Was I going crazy? Would a shoe drop? All along, Larry has just smiled. He's the most patient human being I've ever known.

This is what he has to say about supporting me through depression, especially the decision to go on medication. Without him supporting that, I probably wouldn't have done it, to be honest. I would have continued struggling, convinced medication is weak and suffering is strong. Larry has never agreed with that "suffering is strong" nonsense. So, without further ado...

I have a lot of faith in science. I believe that there is a treatment plan for every ailment; even though, in some cases the treatment can only go as far as treating symptoms. Treatment plans aren't limited to medicine, and I think that a mixture of treatment types will yield the highest results for mental disorders. For those who don't know, I have bipolar disorder. I have been in therapy since I was very young, but I have only been on medication for about five years or so. After having tried a few different medication types, I am well aware that some combinations can be very bad. After my latest change, I have felt better and more like myself than I have for quite some time.

When I started feeling better, symptoms of Kim's depression became more noticeable. Kim is much different than me when it comes to medicine; generally she is much more sensitive to the effects. I tend to shrug off side effects in exchange for the benefit of the medicine, but the same effects can cause Kim a lot of stress. I encouraged her to start with psychotherapy because I figured that this approach carried the least amount of risk. After a couple months, we both realized that the treatment was either ineffective or taking too long to progress. I then suggested that she see my psychiatrist to see what he thought.

We have a great psychiatrist, but Kim was a little tense at the idea of taking pills. I reminded her that she didn't have to do anything she doesn't want to, and once she saw him she relaxed quite a bit. He put her on a treatment plan, and Kim was actually excited about it. I was a little nervous and spent a lot of time reminding her that sometimes new medication can have bad side effects at first. I didn't want to scare her, but I wanted to make sure she wasn't expecting a miracle pill. Every medication I've tried for bipolar disorder has taken at least a month to level out; some side effects never go away and require lifestyle adjustments. I wasn't so sure how Kim would deal with that, but I was very happy to see her put faith in the treatment and see it through.

Now that some time has passed, it is great to see Kim so much more content with life in general and excited about things that should be exciting. She is much more relaxed about things like money and has a lot more trust and faith that things will work out even though a lot of it is not under our control. Things in general are much more relaxed, and this has given us a lot more enjoyment in day-to-day life. I don't mind the work days so much anymore because our downtime in the evenings and during lunch is so enjoyable.

The changes in her have allowed me to grow as well. Now that she is more relaxed about money, it causes me to think about it more. It may sound a bit odd, but by easing her grip on the steering wheel, I have naturally taken on the responsibility of making sure that we are staying on course. I think that before, we used to struggle to meet in the middle. Kim was trying to make sure the car was not going to crash, and I was trying to roll the windows down and turn up the music. Now, when I think about that metaphor, I see both of us working as a team to keep us in the lane that makes us both happy.

***

I think it's so interesting and true what he says about shifts in relationship equilibrium. Nothing in life is truly stagnant. We're always changing, relating to each other differently.

Have you been in the position of supporting someone through a hard time? What did you do? Have you had to be supported? What was that like?

***
Today's gratitude:
1. It's a gorgeous California day. I'm hoping to get out for a short walk soon.
2. The weekend should be full. I admit I'm slightly antsy about doing everything I want to do, but I'm refraining from "overlisting."
3. DVR night! It's our Friday ritual -- calzones and catching up on TV shows.
4. We got our taxes back...and the government owes us some money! Yayyyy!
5. I got some granola bars in the mail -- my first real product review to come!

Knowing what I know now...

The other night, I watched "The Time Traveler's Wife," a movie based on a book I never got around to reading. In the movie, Henry (played by Eric Bana) is a time traveler. He is constantly going back and forth between different times in his life, arriving naked at each destination (which is just fine by me. Have you seen this guy?). The movie is about the love he shares with his wife, Claire (played by Rachel McAdams). He's able to visit her when she's just a child, appearing in a meadow, naked, to hang out. I found this rather creepy. I have a hard time with otherworldly romances, sorry.

This movie left me asking two questions:

1. How cute is Eric Bana?! This is rhetorical. You don't need to answer.

2. If you could travel in time to visit younger you, what would you say?

Knowing what I know now, I'd have all kinds of advice, like:

• -Don't write all those letters to Joey in New Kids on the Block. He won't write you back.
• -Don't write "F*ck you" on the bottom of Bobby's cup when selling lemonade. Yes, Bobby is annoying, but this is a bad business move for a ten-year-old.
• -All those AP classes really won't matter, so don't stress so much. Really.
• -Try out for basketball. You're tall, and your last name is "Hooper" so it seems sort of destined.
• -A perm is a really bad choice.
• -You will have braces for, like, 8 years, so stop hoping otherwise.
  
• -Baking powder and baking soda are not the same thing. Please stop torturing family members with your baking attempts.
• -Don't get on boats. You throw up even when they're anchored.
• -If you cut the hair on your Barbie dolls, it will not grow back.
• -Yes, the fact that your high school boyfriend sleeps with a knife under his pillow IS a red flag. (Note: He wanted to be in the Navy Seals. I don't know).

The thing is that I'm a stubborn soul. If older me arrived, naked, and told younger me these words of wisdom, younger me would have rolled her eyes and quipped, "You should go back to the eighties and see 'Back to the Future' because this little concept of yours has been done before. Also, I'm really disappointed that your boobs are so small."

Seriously, though, what would I say to Kim deep in anorexia? I feel like I know so much about this disease now, while still understanding so little. I don't know what I would say. I feel like there are no words that could have stopped the runaway train that was my eating disorder. My mom says things like, "Maybe it just needed to run its course." In some ways, I agree with this. There wasn't one magical moment when I was just "over it." There were no life-changing, disease-ending epiphanies. It's been a journey for me. It's been an evolution of learning how to manage anxiety and depression. Of course, things could have gotten way worse if I didn't have the intervention of doctors, therapists, and nutritionists; but I don't know that the treatment team made things much better. For me, things have gotten better very gradually, through multiple therapists, meal plans, setbacks and victories. And I don't know that I would say the "course has been run" now. There are many personality traits that drove anorexia that are still part of who I am. I just know myself a little better and I make healthier choices.

One of the main reasons I haven't really considered going into any field helping others with eating disorders is because I don't know how to help, exactly. If I had a daughter with anorexia, I would feel more educated than the average parent, but just as terrified. I would probably recognize it sooner, and maybe that would help, but maybe it wouldn't. Adequate nutrition is most important. But, then what? What about relapses? What about brain wiring? Eating disorders are complicated. I can empathize. I can understand. I "get" it. But, I don't know how to make behaviors or ways of thinking just stop. Baby steps, little changes, experiments, building momentum -- these are all part of progress, but there is no hard and fast to-do list with recovery which, trust me, is very frustrating for a lover of to-do lists.

I suppose this is what I'd say to struggling, younger me: "Don't worry about being perfect at anorexia or perfect at recovery (yes, you'll decide to recover, and you'll want to be perfect at it, which will really only make things worse). Just accept who you are, where you are. It'll all be fine -- imperfect, but fine."

If you could visit younger versions of yourself, what would you say?

***
Today's gratitude:
1. Sleep. Whatever sleeplessness I was having seems to have given way to this state of feeling like I could sleep for days. I guess I'm really relaxed.
2. Fun weekend ahead! We're going to see Larry's mom ride in a rodeo on Saturday.
3. There's a new Goodwill location right next to our condo. Larry thinks it's funny that this makes me so excited. I really like to give things away.
4. Smooth skin. I started using Dermalogica recently and I really love it. I haven't had to use much cover-up or anything. I think I'll shop for new make-up this weekend.
5. JCrew.com swimsuits. I'm thinking of getting a one-piece. I guess these are "in" now? I haven't bought a bathing suit since...2005? I need one for Maui!

Pet peeves, and movie fun follow-up

Yesterday, I told the psychiatrist that the best part of being un-depressed is that I don't seem to get worked up about little things. I still have pet peeves, but what used to annoy and aggravate me kind of amuses me now. Some snippets of recent e-mail and online chat conversations with friends:

"Since when is it okay to give people nicknames without their consent? Someone just called me Kimmy."

"Why do other women think it's okay to talk openly about their periods? Just because we both have girl parts doesn't mean I want to discuss them."

"Ew, have you ever watched someone eat pistachios? It's worse than sunflower seeds."
Shortly after: "Oh my god, there are pistachio shells in the trashcan under my desk. Someone threw their shells in my can!"

These are just a few of my pet peeves. Here are a few more:

• -Groups of women pushing their babies in strollers at the mall. I call this Stroller Derby. It should be a professional sport where I live.
• -Misuse of apostrophes. I continue to maintain that texting is to blame for the downfall of grammar. We're all too lazy to write "it's," so we settle for "its" until we don't know the difference.
• -Sales people.
• -Unclipped toe nails. I had a boss once who sported these with Teva sandals. It wasn't pretty.
• -Conversely: Toe nail clippings on the floor.
• -Over-clearing of the throat, combined with some phlegm activity. My husband's word for this is "cuggling."
• -Talking through movie previews. I've been in movies with friends who do this and I'm never sure how to handle it. I wait for someone else to shush them.
• -The term "fully loaded," in a non-car lot setting.
• -Spelling out interactive acronyms to express real-life emotion, i.e. "That was so funny. L-O-L." Larry is guilty of this, T-B-H (that's "to be honest" for those of you who don't live with a tech nerd).
• -Slow walkers.
• -Bluetooth devices in small public places. I don't like to wonder if you're talking to yourself, psycho.
• -Public displays of affectionate pet names. The only terms that are marginally OK are "babe" or "baby," but even these make me squirm a bit. Throw a "pookie" or a "honeybear" my way and I'll hurl.
• -Conversations in restrooms.
  
• -The word "moist." It just sounds gross to me.
  

What are your pet peeves?

Are you an easily agitated person, or an easily amused person?

***

Movie fun follow-up!

I loved all of your answers yesterday. Here are mine:

Who would you want to play you in a movie?
I have to agree with Ameena and say Gwyneth Paltrow because I love her. But, I've heard from several people that I look like Lee Lee Sobieski, that actress in "Eyes Wide Shut." I'm not sure I see it.

Have you ever walked out of a movie before? Which one?
I've never walked out of a movie before. I guess I'm an optimist. However, I've turned off DVDs before. Most recently, we stopped watching "28 Days Later" about 28 minutes into it because it seemed exactly like "I Am Legend," which I made fun of for 28 weeks after seeing it.

What movie(s) have you seen more than 10 times?
Ace Ventura, Tommy Boy, National Lampoon's Christmas Vacation, Grease, Sound of Music.

What movie love stories do you like the most?
Grosse Pointe Blank, Shakespeare in Love, Moulin Rouge, Playing By Heart.

What movie scared the hell out of you?
Seven.

What movie made you cry the hardest?
Life as a House.

What movie do you find yourself quoting most?
Anchorman.

What's your favorite movie soundtrack?
That's hard. I love every Quentin Tarantino soundtrack, but Forrest Gump is probably my favorite.

***
Today's gratitude:

1. Yahoo! chat with Lauren. I miss her!

2. The coining of the term "Lexaprofessionals."

3. A triple Netflix threat: "Up in the Air," "The Time Traveler's Wife" and "Capitalism: A Love Story." Which should I watch first?

4. The almonds, cashews, dried cranberries trail mix from Trader Joe's. So good.

5. Appetite! It is so great to have a good, strong appetite. The psychiatrist said it's probably related to the medication and "warned" that I could gain weight. I told him, "Oh, that doesn't matter to me. I want to gain a bit." And I wasn't even lying.

One month on Lexapro, and some movie fun

So, when I went on Lexapro a month ago, I said I'd check back in 4-6 weeks. That's how long my doctor said it would be for me to experience "the full effect." Here I am, and these are my thoughts:

For the first few days, I might not have been able to tell you what year it was. I was really out of it. My sleeping was off. I had nausea and upset stomach. I remember now why it's so easy to abandon medication.

After the first week, the side effects went away.

By a week-and-a-half in, I was feeling much lighter. Life didn't seem so heavy and burdensome anymore.

I have not had any of that "I'm a zombie" feeling that people complain about with antidepressants. I'm still me. In fact, I feel more "like me" than before. Being depressed was like an out of body experience.

I've been much more social, and excited about social activities. I used to dread weekends in this weird way, like there was too little time and too much pressure to fill it "correctly." Now, I look forward to weekends. I start daydreaming about them on Tuesday. I had minimal anxiety during the weekend with my mom and sister, and I've really enjoyed the outings with Larry and friends. I don't find myself stressing about so many little things, like the cost of a ticket or difficulty finding parking.

I'm definitely less moody. I've been keeping a mood log for the past several weeks. Before I started medication, I was getting up to about a 6 on a scale of 1-10, then falling fast to anywhere from a 1 to a 3 on a pretty regular basis. For the past few weeks, I've been 7-8 consistently.

I don't have as much obsessional thinking. The medication seems to have taken the edge off my anxieties. I just don't feel like I have to fight so hard to relax. I was doing lots of things like checking to make sure I closed the fridge 8 times (I have this fear of leaving it open so it runs down and all the food goes bad -- symbolic?). I was writing all these unnecessary reminders in my day planner (like "take a shower," as if I'm going to forget). All of that has basically stopped.

My sleeping is much better. I don't wake up anxious in the middle of the night. Now, if I wake up in the middle of the night, it's usually to pee. Sometimes, I still have a hard time going back to sleep, but I don't roll around huffing and puffing in frustration.

I don't find it as hard to spend money on myself, and I'm not as financially anorexic in general. In fact, I may like shopping now. This could be a new problem.

My body feels pretty much the same, though I'm far less concerned with monitoring it. I haven't weighed myself in weeks, nor have I felt the desire to. I don't feel as perfectionistic about my food. I'm a bit more easygoing about it. And I'm not counting nearly as much as I did before. My appetite really improved at about the 3-week mark.

Sometimes, I catch myself smiling for absolutely no reason at all, which is kind of geeky, but whatever.

I have more energy. Instead of looking at things as draining, I'm more enthused to cross them off my "to-do" list. I look at each day as offering me things to accomplish, not things to tire me.

I'm much more patient with people and situations. My moodiness made me very on edge, so I didn't deal well with little changes in my routines. This morning, I had to take a detour from my usual to attend an off-site client meeting and it didn't faze me at all. That's something that used to cause me to lose sleep.

Larry has definitely noticed a positive change. I think it was pretty hard for him to carry the weight of my depression. It's much easier for us as a couple now that I'm more stable. He said he'll do a guest post on this soon.

Overall, I no longer feel like a victim of life, like it's going to swallow me whole. Before, the littlest thing would seem overwhelming. Now, I feel much more grounded and confident in myself. That's just my experience so far. When I started medication, I went in search of others' experiences, for some consolation and understanding of what to expect. If I can give that to someone else, that's all I care about. I would never encourage anyone to try medication, as I'm not a doctor. And I was opposed to medication for a long time, so I understand the apprehensions and concerns. I guess I would just say that medication helped me get out of a depression that I was so accustomed to that I didn't even notice it. I had assumed I was just a mercurial, emotional, sensitive introvert. I'd accepted that as my personality. I'm still sensitive, and I'm still an introvert compared to most people, but I'm not so prone to lows, and I do like to get out of the house. Glad I realized that.

Have you ever experienced depression? What was it like for you? How did you get out of it?

***
And now for some movie fun! I hope you all enjoyed the Oscars. I did. I still have to see many of the nominated movies, but I do love the hoopla. As Bill Maher said in Friday's episode of "Real Time," movies are one of the only American products people around the world still want to buy, so I'm all about supporting them.

Being a movie lover myself, I thought it'd be fun to get your answers to these questions:
1. Who would you want to play you in a movie?
2. Have you ever walked out of a movie before? Which one?
3. What movie(s) have you seen more than 10 times?
4. What movie love stories do you like the most?
5. What movie scared the hell out of you?
6. What movie made you cry the hardest?
7. What movie do you find yourself quoting most?
8. What's your favorite movie soundtrack?

I'll post my answers after I get yours!

***
Today's gratitude:
1. I finally made a doctor's appointment to have some moles removed. I know, gross. I really should do this though. I'm very fair-skinned, blah blah blah. My childhood friend's dad just died of skin cancer. It's serious, yo.
2. I mailed a CD to my friend in New Orleans. So productive today!
3. I have a fun essay in the works, tentatively titled: "Death of the Book Writer: How Technology is Threatening Not Only Paperbacks, but the People who Pen Them."
4. I had my one-month check-in with the psychiatrist today. I did not kiss his feet, but I thought about it.
5. I organized my closet yesterday, inspired by my new purchases. I have some stuff ready for a Goodwill run.

Symptoms of happiness

I've had a great weekend, spent in good company. That company has not included any unwelcome guests, namely depression or anorexia. I've felt free. I considered for the first time the other day that maybe I'd start rescinding the notion that I'll always be "in recovery." I've liked this phrase because it feels like a safe, comfortable blanket. I had one of those until I was thirteen, so obviously I like them. "I'm recovered" sounds so confident, so sure. But, lately, I've felt more confident, more sure. I think I'm just about at the place I would call "ideal." I'm just about where I want to be.

We spend a lot of time talking about the symptoms of illness, but what about the symptoms of recuperation? Not just regained weight, but regained personality, regained happiness. As I was walking through the mall yesterday, I thought of this:

You know you're just about recovered when...

1. You want to socialize with people.
For me, isolating is a sure sign that something is off. I am introverted, in that I need quite a bit of downtime after socializing to recuperate and catch up on "me" stuff (reading, writing, watching TV and movies, cuddling with the kitties, bugging my husband). But, I like people. I enjoy connecting with them. Please remind me of this if I go through another funk and insist that whoever said "No man is an island" is stupid.

I met up with Ameena yesterday at a mall halfway between our homes. We both got there early and bumped into each other walking. I have to say I was nervous. It felt like a blind date. But, after a few minutes, it was easy. We went to Starbucks and talked for almost two hours -- about writing, husbands, kids. She is just as charming and funny and intelligent and sweet in person as she is on her blog. When I met up with my mom after, I said, like a six-year-old, "I think I made a new friend." I'm really dorky.

Have you met up with fellow bloggers before?

2. People want to socialize with you.
My mom met me at the mall after for lunch and shopping. It was a great afternoon of girl time, summarized by my mom saying, "I like happy Kim." Ha. I know she loved sad Kim too, but I'm sure it's nice to be around someone who isn't mopey, worrisome, and anxious. I'm sure she also appreciated that I did not break down in tears during the shopping. More on this in a moment...

3. You don't look at the nutrition facts.
We went to California Pizza Kitchen for lunch. I was pretty sure we'd go there, as this mall has two food options -- Wetzel's Pretzels and CPK. I knew they had nutrition facts online, but I didn't look up the information. Frankly, I don't want to know this stuff anymore! I have enough numbers already imprinted on my brain and it's difficult to rid myself of them. I don't want to add more.

When we sat to eat, they presented the nutrition facts in a little folder along with the menu. Oh my lord, why are they doing this at restaurants? I kind of laughed about it and set it aside, very deliberately. I got a focaccia bread sandwich and a bowl of soup. It was delicious.

4. You're hungry.
For me, hunger is squelched by anxiety. If I'm hungry, it means my anxiety is being kept at bay, which is a huge component of my recovery. I've been very hungry lately.

5. You spend money on yourself.
Okay, so, I have to thank all of you for your shopping suggestions and inspiration. I was motivated. I came to South Bay Galleria. And I conquered. This is what I got:


That would be:
-A few shirts from Banana Republic
-Jeans and a shirt from Gap
-2 pairs of non-jean pants and 2 scarves from The Limited
-Capri pants, a skirt, 2 t-shirts, a ruffly shirt, a jacket, and 2 button-downs from Express

And I also got some cute flats at Bandolino.

Um, my credit card company called to check on the "unusual activity on the account." Yes, me buying anything is kind of unusual.

I guess you could say it was a success. You know, I didn't even look at the price tags or start calculating. I knew I needed new clothes and I actually enjoyed treating myself. I didn't even have any self-hate moments in front of the mirrors. It was rather revolutionary. I told my husband that the medication I'm taking may be working a bit too well. I can't seem to get worked up about much of anything.

This is my favorite purchase -- a red and blue scarf:


6. You sleep.
This, along with the "you're hungry" thing, is related to managing anxiety. I haven't been the best sleeper in my adult years (which is when my anxiety and depression got worse). Lately, sleep isn't as much of an issue. I don't lie in bed and stress about whether or not I'll get eight hours. I'm just more relaxed about it, which means I sleep better.

I'm off to meet my writerly friend, Meredith, to discuss writerly projects. I'm looking forward to watching The Oscars tonight.

What are your symptoms of happiness?
Are you watching The Oscars?

***
Today's gratitude:
1. The condo is clean!

2. I was so energized from my successful shopping that I did the grocery shopping yesterday too. Nice to have that done for the week.

3. I have my 1-month check-in with the psychiatrist tomorrow. I can't wait to kiss his feet. Do you think he'll prescribe me an anti-psychotic if I kiss his feet?

4. "Bitter is the New Black." Ameena gave this to me when we met up and I can't wait to read it. I'm still reading "Hawaii," hoping that my mom is right when she says "it gets better."

5. Tortilla chips. Sometimes I forget how good these are.

The wannabe fashionista

Here's something unfortunate about me: I love fashion, but I hate to shop. This is almost as unfortunate as when I loved men, but hated to date. I find myself perpetually unhappy with my wardrobe and constantly envisioning myself in different, more sophisticated clothes. I like looking through magazines and spotting what I like. I spend quite a bit of time online, browsing for clothes (I call this "browser window shopping"). I can see how I could un-frump-ify myself. It excites me, until I remember that bit about hating shopping. Still, when I close my eyes, I'm in a J. Crew catalog, running through fields in cute cardigans and khakis. I look at pictures like these and think, "THIS COULD BE ME."

(Source: My imagination, and also JCrew.com)

There is so much talk in blogland about images of thin women and how it affects our self-concept. Seeing thin women has never really bothered me. I only paid attention to weight when I was actively sick. What makes me feel more inadequate is seeing stylish women -- those women with the perfectly fitted blazers and perfect-length pants and leather boots and fancy scarves and cool accessories. Those women who take the time to do something with their hair, have manicured nails and perfectly made-up faces. I long to be these women.

But, the reality is that I bite my nails and I buy make-up at Target. I do OK with applying the make-up but, by the end of the day, I've rubbed my eyes so there's black under them, making me look like I follow heavy metal or just had a very traumatic personal event. There are deodorant marks on 75% of my shirts, and 90% of the time, I can't be bothered to care. I've worn the same 5 pairs of shoes since 2002. I only wash my hair every other day, and on the days I do wash it, sometimes I don't dry it. I have no idea how to curl it. I have 3 pairs of jeans that I rotate, and one pair of non-jean pants. And I have about 10 acceptable shirts, most given to me by my mom or sister because they know I hate to shop (and they're sick of seeing that flower-print blouse from 1998).

Yes, this is the crux of my discontent -- the hatred of shopping. Why do I hate shopping, you ask? Am I missing estrogen? Perhaps, but there are other reasons. First of all, I am incredibly impatient. Going through racks of clothes in multiple stores is pretty much torture to me. Some women love this kind of hunt, but not me. I'm exhausted after twenty minutes of this.

Even if I find something on the rack that looks promising, then there is the whole trying-on process. Wait in line. Deal with an overly-cheerful sales person who says she's going to "grab some things real quick" that she thinks would look great on you. These things that she grabs NEVER look great on you, by the way. They won't even be your size. You can make the assumption that she blindfolded herself with someone's discarded shirt and then reached for some miscellaneous items. But, she'll knock on your door every couple minutes to ask how everything is working and you'll want to say, "IT'S NOT, BITCH," but you have manners...sometimes.

Anyway, I'm not an easy fit, which makes trying on clothes frustrating. I'm tall, but not just regular tall. Like, oddly tall. My limbs are really long, so most pants make me look like I'm anticipating a flood, and most shirts make me feel like the Incredible Hulk, when he's going through the change and his arms shoot out of the bottom of his sleeves. I always feel uncomfortable, like things are too small, like skin is showing where it shouldn't be. At this point, I get flustered, but I put everything back on the hangers because I'm too compliant for my own good. Then I tell the cheerful girl that nothing worked, which never upsets her like I want it to.

The answer, my mom says, is to go to more expensive stores, that have more tailored clothes for tall people. Enter reason #2 why I don't like shopping: Spending money is involved, unless you're a shoplifter, which I'm not. I stole bubble gum once when I was a kid and my parents made me go back to the grocery store and apologize to the manager. It was humiliating enough to end my crime streak.

After I meet up with Ameena tomorrow, I'm shopping with my mom. Wish me luck.

What's your personal style? Do you like to shop? Do you have any fashion insecurities?

***
Today's gratitude:
1. Great article about "the endless to-do list and priorities" at Beyond Blue.
2. "Project Runway" + calzone night with Larry.
3. "The Marriage Ref" on hulu.com. Our DVR was too occupied last night to record this, and I'm excited to see it.
4. Making a CD for my friend. I love making CDs for people.
5. It's Friday!