Adulthood

Lately, I've been reading some of the blogs linked to Nancy's. Many of them are blogs written by mothers. I like reading mommy blogs and blogs about babies. My first encounter with blogs was The Trixie Update. I was visiting Nancy in Cincinnati about two years ago when she showed me some of the blogs she had started following, including that one. It wasn't long after that she started her own and convinced me to do the same. Actually, she tried to convince me to start one first. We talked about thinking about our lives in bloggable terms. We started narrating daily events in our heads, and, for me, it helped create a distinction between my lingering depression and me. It helped, and still helps, me to see things objectively. I never thought I would still be blogging almost two years later. It has helped me feel more connected to my friends and to many others who read my blog. Sometimes when I don't feel like writing, I will still post something for the internet. So much has happened in the past two, three years. When I began this blog, I had been married for a little over a year. Nancy once suggested on her blog that I post about my almost-turned-fiasco wedding. So here is an overview.

Wedding
It boiled down to almost losing the family dog (I found her about 1 hour before the ceremony was to begin out in the neighborhood while it was raining with my hair and makeup done. I was the only one not dressed yet, so it made the most sense for me to look for Zoe.), lots of thunder and torrential downpours, flooded roads and fires near the renovated barn where I was planning an outdoor reception, and no electricity. I was so happy to have found Zoe, that I almost didn't care what the ceremony would look like. We found a generator, and that gave us enough power for the little white lights wrapped around the beams and some music for the reception. We had candles all around, and I walked down a makeshift aisle created by the tables and chairs that were supposed to be outside under the flooded, mudcaked tent area. The rain eventually stopped, and it was cool for an August day. We made our way outside for dancing later in the evening. It was quite a memorable day. I was teary-eyed throughout the entire ceremony, because I looked at Ashley standing up front and heard a small sob, which ricocheted to my dad and then to me. I hadn't expected that. I really had to concentrate on holding back audible sobs. Everyone who said they were coming made it. I was really happy with the way the day turned out, and only wish it could have lasted longer.

Depression and Suicidal Ideation
I don't mean to imply here that marriage led to my depression. It's just the order in which things happened, and my depression is something I've wanted to write about here for some time. It is a major factor in my transition into adulthood, and I'd like to share it with you.

The first year and a half of marriage was difficult, to say the least. Zach and I hadn't lived together or even in the same state for over four years. He moved into what was my apt., and we quickly had to adjust to each other's presence. I didn't adjust. I can see now all the little things that contributed to my depression, and I think back to a quote I read somewhere about how the opposite of depression is not happiness, but resilience. I was not resilient. I had just gotten married, was finishing up my last semester of coursework for my PhD in German lit., which I wasn't even sure I wanted. I was helping TA for two different classes, I was studying for my comprehensive exam, both the written and oral, which I took and passed that November and December, I was training for a marathon, which I ran in October, and then Ashley got sick, which is what helped push me over the edge. Come December, I was done with all my coursework, exams, and had completed the marathon. It was dark and cold, and I was up in Massachusetts with Zach's family for the holidays. Meanwhile, back in Lancaster, my own family was broken. I still feel that way, what with Ashley now dead and Alyssa being mentally ill and having minimal contact with us. I still remember very clearly the first time it occurred to me that I could stop all this pain and misery with a few quick flicks of a razor blade, some vodka, and the big bottle of extra-strength Tylenol in the medicine cabinet. It was a Wednesday night in January, I was in the bathtub, and Zach was doing work. The thoughts entered my head seemingly out of nowhere. I envisioned myself lying in bloody bath water and tried to think about how it might feel to die that way. The next morning I couldn't shake those thoughts, and they were starting to freak me out. That's when the cutting began. I got home from a run, pulled out a pocket knife and scratched at my wrist. I thought if I could practice, then maybe in a little while I'd be able to really do IT. I felt immensely better afterwards. The cutting took on a life of its own. For the next two months, it became a release for me. It's what led me to the psych ward of the local hospital, and, ironically, probably what helped save me. It let me express physically what I couldn't put into words. Before I got the help I needed, though, I slipped down into some dark hole that I couldn't pull myself out of, not even with the help of my friends and family. I felt alone and miserable. I started swallowing the tylenol one afternoon. I got up to 9 pills before I stopped. I really didn't want to die. I wanted the pain to stop. I beat myself up for not being able to follow through with it. It made me feel worse about myself. Ashley convinced me to talk to my therapist, who eventually helped convince me to go away to a treatment center in AZ. Once I made the decision to go, things began looking up. Zach and I still weren't on good terms, and wouldn't be for another year or more. He didn't understand what was wrong and why I had to go, and there's still a lot of tension around the whole topic. It was less than a year later that Ashley died. This is all stuff that I've written about extensively in my own journals, and each time it feels a little less unbelievable. This is what really happened, and some days I am amazed at the human capacity for pain and suffering, and now, more recently, also at the capacity for happiness and love. I still don't have access to the words to describe what I felt and feel now. *I learned through my suffering that no human being is immune to the pain inherent in life. All people are connected through sadness and grief, and, as Nancy pointed out to me recently, they are also connected through love, joy and the myriad of emotions known to mankind that don't even have words to describe them.

*Here's where I stand on my soapbox.

Back to the Beginning
I started this post talking about mommy blogs, because I've been thinking more and more about having a baby, and soon. I am older than many of the mommies from those blogs, and I can't imagine having started a family before now. I am amazed at the number of women younger than I am who choose to start families. Nancy and I talk about how there is no set order to the way we are supposed to do things in life. As an adult, I can choose how I want to live my life. I am finally choosing what I want instead of what I think I should want. I am also finding the joy in my connections with other people. We really aren't alone in life, not if we choose to rely on other people. It's not a sign of weakness, as I once thought, but a sign of being human and of being healthy. It feels good to share not just the bad experiences, but also the good ones with other people.

Burlinton, VT/UVM/Our trip from end to beginning

Pomeroy Hall. This is where the communicative disorders dept. is located. I met with the dept. head for about an hour Monday afternoon. She was very friendly and enthusiastic, and I asked as many questions as I could think of in that hour. I enjoyed my visit, but I am still as ambivalent as before I took the trip. Zach and I have been weighing the pros and cons, and I think it will come down to us deciding how sick of State College we are.

University of Vermont




Bomoseen Golfland, near Bomoseen Lake and in the town of Bomoseen. This became the butt of a joke for at least an hour as my mom and I were driving up to Burlington. Who the hell is Bomo? What else did Bomo seen? We were waiting for the "Bomo for Mayor" lawn sign, but we didn't seen it. 

Burlington, VT

Church Street, the main pedestrian shopping area in Burlington. My mom was disconcerted by the number of seedy-looking men just hanging around all day doing. My sister-in-law, who used to live in Burlington, informed us that they closed down the state mental hospital a few years ago. I am certainly of the mindset that mentally ill people should not be kept hidden away from society, and at the same time, I don't like to be yelled at and pestered for money. There are about 35,000 people in Burlington, which is about the same size as State College. The surrounding area of Burlington was more desolate than SC.

One of the replica lighthouses on Lake Champlain (at sunset).




We followed this truck for several miles on our way home. Look closely at the logo.




The tattoo I almost chickened out of. It's a silouhette of a small butterfly (in case you can't tell) with Ash written beneath it. It's on the back of my left leg, just above my ankle. I wanted it closer to my ankle, but the area was too narrow. It only took about 10 minutes, and it hurt, but I didn't faint. It felt like small razor blades cutting into my skin, but the vibrations of the needle helped numb most of the pain. My mom got a pink and blue butterfly with Ashley's initials, AVE, on the inside of her right wrist. It was definately the highlight of our trip. 

Burlington, VT

The night my mom and I arrived in Burlington, we walked down to the waterfront and caught the end of the sunset. My camera has all kinds of settings, including taking pictures in the dark. I had a great time playing around with the different settings.


Lake Champlain at sunset. The lake extends down from Canada into Vermont and NY. Two-thirds of the lake lies in Vermont. It was briefly named the 6th Great Lakel, but the honor was revoked after a year. There is a loch ness monster in the lake named Champ.


Here is a picture of me, pre-tattoo (more to come on that later), sitting in front of the lake.


The distant mountains behind Lake Champlain.


One of three gargoyles sitting atop some office buildings near the waterfront. 

Not just a dog lover

When I look at this picture of Tyler*, my parent's 10 year old cat, I just want to squeeze him and rub my chin against his head while smothering him in kisses. I think he's so damn cute, and I know I must be a cat lover because, objectively speaking, he really doesn't look anything like cute in this picture.

* His namesake is Steven Tyler from Aerosmith. 

And here's the "happy" post to compensate for the negative one that follows.

I feel much better just having posted all the negative stuff. Thanks for "listening".

WARNING: Post Contains Negative Thoughts

This post is full of bitterness, and I don't apologize for it.

I know that everyone experiences mood swings throughout each day or even within a several hour time span, but that still does not quell my mind about my own moodiness. I feel like a prisoner to my moods lately, and I don't know what to do about it. The annoying thing is that I can present a pretty normal, well-functioning face to the world, even to my friends and family. That makes me feel deceitful and coniving, and then it's when I'm alone with my thoughts that I feel crazy. I imagine doing all kinds of drastic, ridiculous things to make myself feel better; such as getting a random tattoo, chopping off all my hair, or dying my hair black or green among other darker thoughts, such as somehow getting into a car accident and dying, and then I imagine my funeral and all my sad friends and family gathering to say goodbye. WHAT is WRONG with me?! I HATE that I imagine these things. I HATE that I am obsessing on myself so much. I feel like I'm looking for some kind of attention that I feel that I'm lacking or maybe I'm feeling so overwhelmed that I'm looking for a way out. It scares me, because then I start to feel like I'm losing control over my thoughts, and that translates into becoming just like Alyssa. I have trouble accepting things for what they are lately. I have trouble accepting my own shortcomings and my own life situation right now. I don't know what I'm doing about school this fall. Zach and I haven't been communicating well, and at this moment we are not talking. That really sucks, because then I start to question my marriage and my own self worth. I know that when we talk again I'll feel a lot better, and in the meantime I will feel awful. What I don't like is that most times Zach and I have an argument, I berate myself and feel like an awful, miserable person. I want to change that. What makes that hard is that once the negative thoughts begin, it's hard to stop them. I go on to think about my sisters and how I couldn't "save" them, and about how now I don't have any sisters to talk to about these things. I know that I have loving friends I can turn to, but it doesn't change that my sisters are gone. Yes, I am feeling sorry for myself lately, and I've come to the conclusion that that's the way I want to feel. I'm angry right now, and writing about it here is the most open and honest way for me to express it.

Grainy pics of pics

My parents (1972-my dad's senior prom)



Ashley-Christmas, 1990


Ashley and my grandfather at my wedding (8/16/03)

Two of my favorite things

A few days ago my mom left the kitchen door that leads out to the garage open as well as the car door while she was gathering some supplies for work. When she got out to the car, who did she see sitting in the passanger seat but Zoe. She was all ready to go for a ride. Perhaps she wanted to drive up to State College to visit her favorite people, one of whom is pictured above. My mom had to entice Zoe out of the car with a peanut butter bone. 

Family

My mom and Zoe
My dad and Zach 

My cousin Gwen and her boyfriend. 

My Grandparents. 

It's Easter.

Me, my grandmother, and Ashley.
Photo taken December 31, 2004, about 2 weeks before Ashley died. 

Exciting News

My sister-in-law and her boyfriend at Christmas. They're expecting a baby boy this September. 

Behold, the eyebrows

Before and After


Do they make my eyes pop, as Melanie said they would?

Hot chai and other pleasures

I visited my parents for the day while Zach was in Harrisburg for his weekend class. My parents and I had lunch, we talked, I walked the dog in the rain, and I did 3 loads of laundry. Yes, I am 29, and I still take laundry home to my parents. I still can't get used to laundromats and the other weirdos who frequent them. I also had my hair cut and my eyebrows waxed at the salon my mom goes to. It was my birthday gift from my parents. The stylist, Melanie, asked if I wanted my eyebrows waxed after she washed my hair, and I said "sure". The hot wax felt good going on. I told her to just rip the wax off without telling me when, and she did, and it hurt, but I have a high threshold for pain, so I didn't even flinch. She then proceeded to pluck any stray hairs off, and I thought I would open my watering eyes to find two, thin lines left where my eyebrows used to be. I don't have bushy eyebrows to begin with, but I'm a stranger to the world of cosmetics and beauty. She said to pluck out any stray hairs she may have missed when I do my makeup. I nodded my head up and down. The only makeup I own is a tube of lipstick and some dried up mascara left over from my days as a teenager when I thought I would be a model. Alas, I am not tall enough, and so I went to school instead. At any rate, my eyebrows look very nice and trim.

On a Side Note:
My parents are funny now that it is just the two of them (and the dog and 2 cats) in the house. My mom likes to walk around the house pretending to talk to the animals like Tony Soprano, and my dad threatened to get rid of the new satellite dish if she didn't clean up her language.

My mom and I went out for tea and cocoa this afternoon before I left to pick up Zach and return home. We had a pleasant time, because it felt normal. Things haven't felt normal with my family for over 12 years, when Alyssa, my youngest sister, began her descent into a mysterious mental illness (borderline personality disorder?). We thought that would be the worst thing to happen, but then Ashley got sick with a mysterious intestinal disorder that never got better, despite having her colon removed, and died. I was missing Ashley today when my mom and I went out together. I remembered having tea with Ashley at a small coffee shop in Bryn Mawr when she was in school. There was nothing spectacular about that evening. Nothing stood out other than she told me to get it "to go", even though we were drinking it there, because the paper cup was bigger than the mug, but the price was the same. It was just a regular, old evening. I try to relish those evenings, but some days it's hard. My anxiety level has been high the past few days, and some of that is due to the bottled-up grief, anger and sadness I have for my sisters. Some of it is due to trying to figure out future school plans. I'm not sure what the rest of it is about. I am having trouble sleeping, I'm nauseous, and weary. I'm feeling depressed. I am, however, taking care of myself. This is big. Last time I felt like this, I was suicidal and resorted to self mutilation (cutting my arms with razor blades). I ended up in a hospital for a week and a treatment center for several more weeks. This time I am talking to people, I'm taking naps and sitting in the sun. I'm drinking hot chai, getting massages and having my hair cut and my eyebrows waxed. This time around I know that these feelings of anxiety and depression won't last forever.

Playing with pictures

Baylee, my niece (9 yrs.)


Zach, my husband, and Ashley, my niece (6 yrs.)


Noel (15 yrs.) 

I'm almost 29, and I'm supposed to feel like this, right?

I have been on an emotional rollercoaster the past few days. I got accepted into the three schools I applied to for an MS in Speech Therapy, which I was thrilled about, but I am not going to receive any funding. I have filed a FAFSA application, so I can get loans, but, as many of you who read my blog know, it's hard to go back to school after earning an income (albeit meager) for a while. I got into Penn State, University of Vermont, and West Chester. West Chester would be a pregraduate degree program that starts in May. I'm not really keen on moving there for a pregraduate program, but I'm not discounting it yet, either. Penn State is a bit more expensive, but I'm already here and familiar with the school and town. Zach and I have been talking about moving for over a year now, but he says he doesn't mind sticking around for a few more years while I complete me program. It would be awesome to move to Burlington, VT, but the tuition is sky high, and neither one of us would have any source of income. I know we're young, and that this is the time to take risks, so part of me wants to just up and move to VT, because, when else will we be able to do that? I am also scared that we'll move and won't have as many opportunities available to us. Burlington is slightly more isolated than State College, not to mention colder. I have about two weeks to figure out what to do. I've been in contact with the graduate advisor for my programs at UVM and PSU, and I'm looking at different options, such as defering my acceptance to UVM until the fall of 2007, after I become a resident of Vermont and different sources of funding for Penn State. I think of Nancy and Michael moving to LA this summer, and know that they will face all kind of uncertainties. It makes me want to get up and move, too. In the meantime, life goes on. Zach and I are thinking seriously about kids (like in the next year or so), and a house and a dog. Maybe not in that order, but you get the picture.

Getting Up-to-Date

Me and Zoe. I've been playing around with my "new" digital camera and my husband's new laptop. It's taking me a while to figure it all out. I'm pretty clueless when it comes to computers and cameras, even when dealing with the simple stuff. Between figuring this stuff out and getting an IPod for my birthday, I'm moving into the 21st Century. 

Red-stained hands

So much has been happening the past few weeks, but I haven't been in a blogging mood. I haven't been in any kind of mood to sit still, but today was such a fun day, and since Zach's not home yet to share it with, I'll write about it.
It started this morning at work. I was in the gym with the 6 kids who come to the morning program before school starts, and the secretary announced that buses would be running late. Naturally the kids got excited, because that meant school would be starting late. Well, much to their dismay, the buses arrived only minutes later, and kids started flocking into the gym. Just as I was about to shout "clean up!", the secretary popped her head in and screamed in an unnecesarily loud, shrill voice "STOP IT, Taylor!". It shocked her, because all she was doing was spinning a jump rope around on the floor for other kids to jump over. Only no one was jumping over it anymore. I told Taylor not to worry, she just didn't know what you were doing, but I did and it was okay. This is not the first time this secretary has screamed at a kid before or after school. I was still stunned. I thought about saying something to her, but decided it wasn't worth it. She obviously has anger issues, and I don't need to waste any of my time on her. As I drove to the office I really felt that I rediscovered part of the reason for getting up each morning and going to my job; that is to show kids how to be reasonable, fair, and well-mannered. There are so many people yelling at them and telling them what they can't do in school every day, and maybe at home, too, and I can be one person to let them just be.
This afternoon one of the boys threw a tennis ball and hit an EXIT sign. The cover and the red backing to the sign flew off the wall and broke into several pieces when it hit the floor. The boy thought he was in BIG trouble, as the other kids started chiding in. I picked up the sign, and told them to get me a chair and some tape. All of a sudden we were working as a team. I was taping as the he fit the pieces back together. As I stood up on the chair to replace the sign, the very same secretary walked in to talk to a kid, and all the kids fled from me. She didn't say a word to me, but I felt suddenly like the kids must feel.
After that we made oobleck, which was a big mess and a lot of fun. One of the parents was laughing at me as a puff of cornstarch flew into my face when I crushed the box to it throw away. Usually doing projects like this one are just a big headache, but today was fun. I think more days could be like today.