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.

Being sick AND married

So my cold is still hanging on. I am becoming one with it. I don't remember what it's like to not have this cold, so I live my life as if we are at ease with each other's presence. Zach, on the other hand, is having the harder time of it. He resorted to sleeping on the sofa bed in a sleeping bag twice this past week. He usually makes his way out of the bedroom in a huff around midnight. Apparently I snore and cough and move around a lot in my sleep. I'm not too offended. I was nowhere to be found when he was throwing up two weeks ago. Nowhere in the vows did it say anything about being physcially present during sickness. You can honor, love, and support someone from any, safe distance. This is about self-preservation. Not only that, but if Zach does catch my cold, then I'll have to hear about it for the following week or two. To not have to deal with that is totally worth having that cold, empty spot in the bed next to me. It took me about 2 years to get used to sharing my bed. Now I stay on my side even when Zach's not there.

My bronchial airways are inflamed, and I'm grateful for it!

Last Friday Zach came down with a stomach flu. For those of you who don't already know, I have a huge fear of throwing up. I can count on one hand the amount of times in my life I have thrown up, and I remember all the details of when, where, and how I felt. I went from the ages of 9-21 without throwing up once. That's 12 years (reference Seinfeld here. I would provide a link if I were more computer savvy or less lazy). When Zach threw up the first time last Friday, he thought it might have been too much beer on an empty stomach, but after the second, third and fourth time, I grew suspicious. I went out to sleep on the sofa with the pillow over my head. Poor Zach wasn't getting any sympathy from me. I even considered sleeping in the car. The next day I left the house for a few hours and returned with Lysol, gloves, and gatorade. I stayed about 10 feet away from Zach and talked for a while. I then scrubbed the apartment. For the next 3 days, I was hypersensitive to every noise my stomach made. I was anxious and didn't eat much. I ate crackers and drank gingerale for two days (I exaggerate a bit) , even after Zach was eating chicken marsala and chocolate cake again. I didn't get the stomach flu (knocking on wood), but I did end up with bronchitis, probably the after effect of not eating enough and lowering my resistance. I am content with my bronchitis. And Zach is not the least bit afraid of catching it. That's love.

Skunk or Gas Leak?

Early Wednesday morning Zach and I woke up to the phone ringing. It was only 4:45, too early for Zach's father to be calling. Our landlords, who live downstairs from us, came on the answering machine asking us to pick up. Zach answered, said "Okay", and hung up. "We need to get dressed. There might be a gas leak and we need to be ready to get out of the house". Something did smell a little funny. We got dressed in record time and ambled our way down the stairs. At the bottom was our landlord's grown son, who spends the night from time to time, with a scowl on his face like a teenager's. He mumbled something that sounded like a hello. We all stupidly stood in the kitchen wondering if we should go outside or not. The emergency guy at the gas company didn't say we had to go outside. As the smell worsened, we went out. "It smells like skunk", said our landlady. Zach and I agreed. Was it a skunk? Half an hour later, the emergency guy showed up. Apparently he had to get dressed first. At any rate, it was determined that we did indeed have ourselves a skunk. We found the hole he had dug into the storage shed attached to the garage. Thankfully it wasn't a gas leak. Even though it was just a skunk, we were all a little too nonchalant about the situation. I had even gone back upstairs to grab my bag, and I flipped the lightswitch on and off several times. Friends of mine did experience a gas leak once. The smell was overwhelming, enough to give you a headache. No one knew it was a gas leak until Liz passed out early one morning before her final exam. On her way to the exam, she started to feel better. When she returned home, she felt worse again. Her sister Annie attributed all her morning headaches to quitting smoking. A window had been cracked most of December with a bottle of detergent. When the detergent ran out, the window was shut, and that's when Liz passed out. They were lucky. We were lucky.

Spending Time

I've been reading some great books by author Elizabeth Berg lately (thanks to a suggestion from Nancy). I've also been crocheting some sad looking scarves with the time I normally would have spent cleaning. My apartment is still clean, but I just let it get dirty now first. Zach and I have been lamenting the day we can finally own our own home. On warm, sunny days like yesterday, we would like to spend our afternoons outside in our yard with the dogs.

That's all I really wanted to say.

Things have been going exceptionally well this past week. It's a welcome change from the way I had been feeling.