I can't remember ever experiencing this kind of depression before. It's so novel, I'm not sure how to describe it. I can't really figure out the exact cause either. It's all very... vague, discombobulated, unfamiliar. I think it may be a combination of depression and anxiety, born out of hopelessness, denial, and a complete inability to cope.

Nobody died. No one's getting divorced. Things are generally going well. But a series of events on top of each other left me spinning, and whenever I try to find my bearings, I realize I am too dizzy to even try. It feels almost like... gravity has multiplied by 100 or 1000, trying to crush me down to the floor, but if I turn my head, it goes away. The problem is, when I turn my head, everything else goes away too. In order to avoid this... hopeless weight, I have to completely vacate the premises, and run on auto-pilot. Unfortunately, unlike auto-pilot, I can still feel the pull backwards. I feel something is missing. I don't want to turn back around to face it, but I can't find myself, and I'm pretty sure I have to turn around to find me and this giant black hole at the same time.

It's very much like catatonia, except I force myself to do the bare minimum.

What happened is this:

1. I was told my ovaries are kaput, due to Low Ovarian Reserve and PCOS. Eggs are not forming, so there is nothing to harvest to try IVF with my own eggs. This was very bad for me, but each day it was easier.

2. About 4-5 days later, I decided we should go ahead with IVF through donor eggs. Eric wanted this to be the next step too. We made appointments.

3. I started my "period", which marked the first day of a "Mock Cycle" - I would take an entire cycle's worth of hormones identical to those that would prepare my uterus for an actual IVF implantation. At the end, they would do a "mock" implantation - everything would be done like a real one, except there would be no egg on the end of the... thread-like tube thingy.

4. I went in for my first bit of hormones: a shot in the hip. I was taught how to self-inject once that step would start in about 1 week.

5. Had a "baseline" ultrasound. Results: I have cysts in both of my ovaries. A month earlier, during my first ultrasound at this clinic, they could not find 1 ovary, but the other looked fine. Empty, but fine. On this day, I had 2 distinct ovaries, and each had 1 cyst almost large enough to fill the entire ovary. I was told this can be a natural occurrence that clears up on its own, and the shot I had just gotten the day before would more than likely clear it up. We were told not to worry, this doesn't affect anything. I scheduled my first uterine test for them to measure the volume of my uterus.

6. I got a call from my sister telling me that she had "pre-cancerous" cells on her cervix, which was going to be removed in 2 months. Without a cervix, you can't carry a baby. A suspicion was confirmed - my mother had to have a partial hysterectomy when I was in college, which left only her ovaries in place.

7. I went in for my uterine test procedure. Eric was there thankfully. They squirted in some saline to "fill" my uterus, so it would show up on the ultrasound monitor for them to measure. Lots of pointing and clicking and poking and prodding and hoping I wouldn't pee on the doctor. Then she pointed out that I had a polyp in my uterus. I instantly asked about cancer, bringing up my recently revealed family medical history. I was told that (a) cervical cancer is completely different than uterine or ovarian cancers, (b) technically there was a possibility it was cancer, and (c) these were somewhat common, easy to remove, and in all her years of removing them not one had been cancerous. We relaxed. We cancelled the next test, which was going to check on my fallopian tubes, and instead scheduled a combined hysteroscopy and laparascopy to remove the cervical polyp and check out the ovarian cysts.

8. I completely checked out of my life.

I have endured so much, it seems ridiculous that this should be what breaks me. Utterly, totally, entirely, insanely ridiculous. I DO NOT HAVE CANCER. This is a simple procedure, similar to one I had 2 years ago that went amazingly easy and quick.

But whenever I try to think about it, to rationalize these things to myself, I feel this giant pit of hopelessness open up in front of me, with monstrous gravity sweeping in behind to send me in and squash me at the bottom like a giant paperweight. It is suffocating. It is despair.

So I turn away. And then my entire personality is gone. One of the symptoms of depression I haven't experienced often is the lack of desire to do activities previously enjoyed. I have become bored with some of the things I like, not feel like doing them, sometimes avoiding them - but there is always something else I would like to do, if only to watch TV and eat junk food.

For the past... fortnight, I have dragged myself out of bed, forced myself to eat some cereal, laid down in front of the television, and done some mindless web surfing. The web surfing makes me tired, and I avoid any of the sites I usually go to because I don't want to deal with reality or people or responsibilities or conversations or deep thoughts. Watching the TV just makes me wish I was back in bed. After about 2 hours of this, I go back to bed. About 2-3 hours later, I wake up and repeat.

Yesterday we went back to Port Orchard to spend the day with family, and I finally smiled and laughed for what seemed like an eternity. But only when the dogs jumped into my car in their exuberance, when my niece tried to talk to me and I didn't want her to think I was upset with her, and when I was playing with my nephew. There was one day last summer, for just a few hours, when I was very bitter and jealous that my sister-in-law was pregnant. And later that day it was gone, and hasn't come back. My nephew has been a complete joy to me. But I didn't ask to hold him. I was afraid it might bring "Me" back, and all of the emotions I was denying too, and I would start weeping all over him. Not out of jealousy or anything, but the depth of emotion that I feel for him, would wake me up finally. I just couldn't wake up with him there. It would have been... bad.

My pre-op appointment is Wednesday afternoon.

My "procedure" is the following Wednesday.

We will be spending the 4th of July weekend in Las Vegas with most of Eric's extended family. I have done some planning and purchasing for this as if there will be a future. But I'm not excited. Something about... being disconnected to the present makes the future seem just... a mirage.

I've written all of this without crying. I am vaguely worried about myself. Worried that I'm not upset. This isn't exactly numb, more like vacant automaton. I can analyze the situation, I just can't experience it. I never thought I would find myself looking forward to surgery. But I am. I have this tiny bit of hope that once I wake up after the surgery, they will tell me it's not cancer, I'm all better, there's nothing preventing me from going forward with IVF except a few weeks of healing, and ta-da! I'll be right as rain.

ps: oh look, a cherry! I have to lose 15 pounds just to qualify for the privilege of applying (with a check for $75) for IVF financing. Whoot!

This is what I was going to write a few weeks ago:

IVF is Holland. My last quarter at the UW, my instructor in childhood mental disorders gave us a simple analogy on the first day. Imagine preparing and packing and learning to speak French because you're going to take your dream vacation to Paris. Now imagine when you get off the plain you discover you are in Holland. Holland isn't a bad place. It's just different. It's just not what you were expecting, or what you wanted. But you can still enjoy yourself, have a great time, and fall in love with this new country. Now imagine that Holland is a baby born with Down's Syndrome.

After a cooling off period, I realized that I would be ok with using a donor egg for In-Vitro Fertilization. I kind of surprised myself. I felt very comfortable with the decision once it was made. Eric agreed - we both wanted to try this before looking into adoption.

When I was in so much pain, a kind of sorrow that is different (not worse, just different) from any other, part of how I dealt with what was happening was ironic astonishment. If you had told me in high school, or even the first years of college, that I was going to want to have a baby, be told I couldn't conceive, and then I broke down and had a week-long emotional congress... That would have had me rolling on the floor, that's for sure. I imagined comparing IVF to Holland, but in my case, I felt there needed to be some tweaking.

As a girl, I decided I hated Paris. I was never going to go to Paris. Ever. As I got older, my conviction only got stronger. Paris, bleck. Grr! As an adult, I am introduced to a side of Paris I never knew before. I quickly decide I want to go to Paris. Paris requires money, and preparation. It took years to get everything together. But finally I'm on the plane with my Sweetie, and we're going to Paris! Yay! And then we get off the plane in the midst of a bunch of people speaking Dutch. No one is speaking French. There are tulips everywhere. Was that a windmill. Oh. My. God. I'm in Holland? Holland?! You've got to be shitting me?!?! Wait, doesn't Amsterdam have hash bars? Hmm. Maybe we're going to enjoy this just the same...

Yep, everything seemed very positive. And like less chance was involved, which was an unexpected comfort to realize. We gave blood, took tests, looked at donor sites, signed papers. And then another A-bomb fell from the sky.

Last week I was told that I am basically (but not completely) infertile. The chances of having a "natural" pregnancy are microscopic, will likely have complications, and there will be a 1:35 chance of Down's Syndrome. We are currently learning about the process of IVF with donor eggs.

The first day was incredibly difficult. One of my first thoughts was that when I have a child, she won't look like me. I don't need a baby clone, but the thought that I'll never be able to look at the baby and see my nose or eyes or smile or hair... that's rough. I've noticed that I have an eye for seeing this in other's people's babies. I don't go looking for it though, it's always some random moment, in the right light, the right position, and POP! "wow, she really has her father's eyes!". Hopefully the randomness of it will mean I won't dwell on it for my own child.

I was very happy when I decided I was going to go forward with IVF instead of adoption, but as the week has gone by before this afternoon's appointment to learn more, my confidence has disappeared. Mostly, I am afraid of the complications. I will still have a higher likelihood of complications, like miscarriage. I try not to think about that, but it's niggling in the back of my brain too often.

So many thoughts going through my head those first few days, but never surprise, or blame. It would be easy to blame me, but there's no point. I could be selfish and blame Eric for putting this off for so long, but I agreed with him all the way every time we re-examined the decision on when to start a family. And a very large part of me does not think it would have made a difference.

Because it wasn't a surprise. I was expecting it. I've been using ovulation predictor kits for a year now, and have NEVER gotten a positive result. My Basal Body Temperature tracking was occasionally optimistic, but mostly was sporadic and inconclusive. For the 3rd month in a row, I have had NO temperature shifts at all to even hint at ovulation. This is while I'm on Clomid, which is supposed to make sure you ovulate, and there was never any indication it ever happened. Going to the Fertility specialist a few weeks ago for the first time, I was convinced they would tell me I was in pre-menopause, infertile. Despite my misgivings, no one has ever suggested that to me. But when she did an ultrasound to look at my ovaries, she couldn't find one, and the other she couldn't see well enough to get a good idea of its condition because it was tucked behind something else. She didn't say this was bad at the time, but it certainly seemed like a bad sign to me. Last week she told me the "invisible" ovary probably had no follicles or eggs to be seen.

But there's more. My history of horrific periods that started when I was 8/9 and only ever got worse. No one could ever tell me why, they just ran tests that revealed nothing. Over the years, I have developed a tolerance for tylenol, then ibuprofen, and finally aleve. I am currently taking prescription Tylenol+Codein, 1 every 4 hours, with 2 aleve every 4 hours. And it is usually enough to keep me from screaming, but not to feel well enough to leave the house. The pills take too long to kick in, and then wear off sometime between hours 2 and 3. The codein makes me sleepy. The constant adding of medications that doesn't do enough for the pain builds up until sometime during day 2 I begin to get really sick from having too much drugs in my system.

I was told to either remove or scar my uterus if I wanted any kind of relief. For years we tried to suppress my periods through special birth control pills that are known to make women stop having periods after a few months. Not me. I tried an IUD for the same purpose, and was in constant pain for over 3 weeks until I finally made them remove the thing. 3 weeks of feeling like I'm having day 1 menstrual cramps and pain relievers didn't help at all. It was a nightmare.

So came the laprascopy, which finally showed that I did indeed have endomitriosis - something doctors had been testing for and getting negative results for for years. I was told the type I had, which grew within the walls of the uterus, doesn't usually affect fertility. She found my ovaries, but didn't examine them except to see that they didn't have growths as well.

Also, this doctor diagnosed me with Polycystic Ovarian Syndrome (PCOS) without telling me - a new doctor going over my notes mentioned it and freaked me out.

That's a lot of stuff stacked against me. Now throw in the fact that most of my high school sex life was unprotected. I wasn't promiscuous, but I was... very, very active. Zero teen pregnancies. No pregnancies later in life despite the requisite condom rupture "oh-my-god-oh-my-god-oh-my-god!!!" moment that Murphy has declared everyone should experience AT LEAST once in their life.

All of these things are separate facts, not necessarily linked at all. It's not very scientific to think all this adds up to guaranteed infertility. But I've been living this for almost 30 years now. It seems impossible to me that I wouldn't have fertility issues. I was just holding out a little hope that it wouldn't be actual infertility.

So, here I am, waiting for my 3pm appointment to learn more about IVF. It's been just over a week since I went in for a follow-up ultrasound that never happened because of bloodwork results.

It was for a "Clomid Challenge". I had been on Clomid 4 times, but never done this challenge. They draw blood on day 3 of your cycle to measure your FSH (follicle stimulation hormone) levels, put you on clomid days 4-9, take your blood again on day 10, and do an ultrasound on day 12. I was told on the evening of day 10 that my FSH was abnormally high. Low numbers are good, somewhere around 10-15 on day 10 of your cycle. Mine was 28. I found some alarming information online, but waited until that ultrasound appointment to actually talk to the doctor.

I was told that indeed it was bad. It meant that if I had any follicles/eggs left, they were likely unusable. AND that my FSH score combined with my age meant that my eggs were likely too fragile to harvest for IVF - they would be destroyed during the process. The ultra sound was cancelled. I was given a packet of info on IVF, and made the appointment for today to go over specifics.

And that's that. I'm just kind of empty right now. Where did my confidence from this last weekend go? I was so sure of my decision to use donor eggs for IVF, so happy there was going to be a next step that could lead to pregnancy. Today, I'm just feeling very dull, almost numb. I fear I have already made a bad association with the clinic and the doctor that triggers panic. As I get older, I've developed a few panic-attack triggers, and now I seem to be collecting them.

I told my brother-in-law last night that it is scientific fact that physical and psychological reoccuring stimulations cause a person to develop a tolerance to them. The more drugs you take, the less affective they become over time. The more you run, the easier it becomes to run the next time. The treatment of phobias is desensitizing, showing the arachnaphobic patient spiders over multiple sessions.

However, there is a contradicting response when food is involved, called food aversion. In a controlled experiment, if you shock or cause physical pain to an animal every time they try to eat, the animal will keep trying. Maybe not as gung-ho, but the animal needs to eat, so it continues to try. But if you put something in the food that makes the animal ill, it will develop an aversion to the food, something that will easily last a life-time. Cancer patients are told to eat the same thing every time they're about to have chemotherapy. Something small that they don't love to eat. Like LifeSavers. Because they've discovered that the nausea and vomiting following chemotherapy causes very strong food aversion. Personally, I got really sick after having too much cherry pie when I was a kid, and it took me over 15 years to try another cherry pie after that.

For some reason, I develop aversions to actions and events as well as food. My tolerance for pain gets lower and lower, I now get panic attacks at the MENTION of blood tests needing to be done. I cannot go to a dentist without first taking valium. I can't be in the same room with my father. When I'm depressed, I have social aversion - the thought of using the telephone or email makes me nauseated.

And now I have a new one. Involving a small fertility clinic in Kirkland, the office staff there, and my doctor.

Awesome.

ps: maybe you noticed that anxiety affects my ability to spell?

Sitting in my car, eating Ciao Bella Mango Sorbet, I glance around the near-deserted Whole Foods parking garage. The taste of sumptuous mango coats my tongue, infiltrates my brain's pleasure center, and triggers childhood memories of other mango consumptions.

I remember my cousins' enormous mango tree, all of us downing the fruit with rocks - you could pick the already fallen from the ground, but they were always overripe and at least partially rotted. The tree makes me think of my grandmother's lychee tree, my adult quest to find fresh lychee, and my confusion when I realize I don't enjoy them now as much as I did as a child. Another bite brings my brain back to the memory of mangos past, how difficult it was to get to the meat of the fruit without making a mess. Cutting mango covers your hands in juices, gnawing it from the seed core covers your face in sticky goo. I remember my mother showing me how much sweeter the fruit could be if sprinkled with a tiny bit of salt, just like cantaloupe. I don't yet realize it, but tonight I will remember this and sprinkle salt on the tiny mango slices included in my just-purchased batch of Whole Foods' packaged strawberries.

My chores for the day are finished. I feel accomplished for having changed our car insurance to AllState for less money and higher coverage. I have no pain or nausea for the first time in days, in fact I feel healthy and energized. I am heading home to a yummie lunch, an evening of creativity and Project Runway. Home is where my cats are, where I share time with my husband, where I need to load the dishwasher. Tomorrow.

Today, I'm just reveling in mango.

Today is cycle day 26, the end of 4 months on Clomid, and my temperature dropped .5 points between yesterday and this morning. Despite using the expensive ovulation watch, and having more perfectly timed sex than any other month. And now it's all over. I have reached the limit of Clomid they're willing to give me, and that I'm willing to subject my body to. And that's pretty much how I feel about all of it - I don't want to subject my body to any more of this bullshit.

My body had so many things wrong, so many little oddities, there seemed to be no pattern to anything. But apparently there was enough of a pattern for me to notice when it was changed - my body feels alien to me. My periods are shorter, and roughly every other month they've been kind of light and less painful. I can't remember the last time I had diarrhea - now I have very hard, long stools. In the past 2 weeks, I've had 2 compacted stools - the alleviation of which is not pleasant at all. I am nauseated for roughly 2 weeks of every cycle. Headaches every day for 2 weeks.

I don't want to do this anymore. No more hormones, no more fucked-up symptoms, no more feeling like my body has been hijacked. I stopped taking the Metformin for blood pressure last month because of all the nausea. Now, no more Clomid either.

I just made an appointment at a fertility clinic in Kirkland. I have been putting this off, wanting to give the Clomid time to work. I don't know what happens at the appointment, what they can do for me, or what kind of drugs they might want to put me on. My GYN suggested they might want to go back in and look at my uterus/fallopian tubes. Because THAT's what I want to do now. I'm sick of it. I'm sick of the whole thing. I want my uterus OUT.

I want a baby. I still want to get pregnant. But I am constantly exhausted both physically and mentally since they've put me on Clomid, and I don't think I can take it anymore.

I can't tell what's worse, the physical or the mental. Every month, it is a struggle to work in the intercourse at the correct time. Especially since I have NEVER seen a positive Ovulation stick test. When the OV Watch told me I was ovulating, I was practically dancing around the house, reassured that I wasn't broken yet, and those stupid tests just weren't working. The sex was all perfectly timed. The daily temperature taking did not support this - there was no obvious drop or spike. Almost a week later, there WAS a drop and spike, very obvious. More perfectly timed sex, just in case (negative OV stick tests, surprise!). The first day or 2 after the spike, my temp. seemed questionable. But then they were back up to spike level for 2-3 days. And this morning, back to drop level.

Did I mention that I woke up yesterday morning from a dream that my OV Watch had developed a new, never-mentioned function - it told me I was pregnant! It was quite an elaborate signal - the watch started flashing and beeping and did some weird Transformers-like folding on itself to shut off all functions until all that was left was the little note that I was pregnant.

My body, my enemy. My brain, part of the problem too. I am so DONE. Now what?

How do I hate thee? Let me count the ways...

I have had a problem with doctors for my entire adult life. Being talked down to is not a way to gain a fan, neither is cutting me off in the middle of my list of symptoms to focus on one thing and dismiss everything else. Test after inconclusive test. Shrugging and scratching heads. Passing me on to others with no follow up. Putting me through tests with no follow up. Telling me to "wait and see."

I have been in the "wait and see" holding pattern for 15 years. So nope, not a fan.

Actually, I'm not really a fan of anyone or anything health related. The wretched "green medicine" when I was about 8 or 9 because anxiety was making me puke all the time. The increased number of pills I have to take on a daily basis that has in fact made my gag reflex WORSE - I used to be able to swallow up to 4 pills at a time. Now I'm lucky if medium-sized pills taken one at a time go down the first time. There are hospitals with their smells and their bad memories and the constant cold. There are office waiting rooms, followed by the waiting room 2.0 that is formally known as the exam room. Dentists have been failing to properly numb me since elementary school, or stab me in a nerve for the most painful 2 seconds of my life - so traumatic that I now need to take valium to see a dentist for any reason, or have needles used on me.

Lab Technicians can be really awesome actually. There was this really cute one at Group Health that I would fantasize about while she took my blood. Quite an experience when I almost passed out and she laid me onto the floor, her face hovering over mine like an angel. My favorite lab tech at Virginia Mason is a flaming gay and a real hoot - and has been known to actually NOT hurt me when drawing blood (gasp!).

Finally, we come to nurses - the true angels of the medical profession. Nurses listen. They do not run all over you trying to diagnose in 3 seconds what no one else has been able to diagnose for years. They take the time to study your chart before and after your visit, do research, and call unexpectedly with new information.

My current gynecologist put me on Clomid for 2 months, and said she didn't know how to help me after that so I should see a fertility specialist. But when I went in for a post-Clomid check up that was supposed to last 10 minutes, I was there for an hour because the nurse took 20 minutes looking over my chart before coming in and then she spent 30 minutes talking and listening and examining. That is a world record, I'm sure.

The nurse pointed out that there are notes from my gyno that she thinks I have PCOS (poly-cystic ovary syndrome), something she never relayed to me!

She went on to explain how PCOS can mess with your hormones, which can mess with your blood pressure, cholesterol, fertility and menstruation, weight, body hair, moods, etc. So she gave me an anti-diabetic drug to help make my blood sugars and insulin work correctly, which she believes can help a lot more than just my fertility problem.

And she put me on extended Clomid - 7 day cycle instead of the standard 5.

And she sent me to get a blood test to see where in my cycle I was, and/or if I was pregnant, because at day 37 I was around 10 days late.

And then she called me yesterday to tell me that the blood test showed that I should start my period any day now (or, as it was, the day before her call).

And to tell me that she had spent the past 2 days going over my charts and testing history, then doing research. She believes there is a gap in the testing - an area that no one else has thought to check: my cortisol levels.

She thinks that I may have Cushing's syndrome, which would explain a lot. She sounded optimistic, that this could be a good thing, that I could cut out all my medications and be put on just one. Holy crap! All I have to do is collect my urine for 24 hours. How... very much un-fun. But as tests go, really damned easy!

So I was happy. Let the pee collecting begin!

Then I started looking into Cushing's. At first I was merely astonished at how the symptoms pretty much described me perfectly. Things I never even thought to mention could actually be symptoms!

And then this morning I decided to continue to do research. And now I'm terrified. Here's what I found, in the order I found it:

1. http://care.diabetesjournals.org/content/26/6/1819/F1.expansion
Looks like me in 20 years

2.http://img.medscape.com/pi/emed/ckb/endocrinology/116364-138556-117365-138806.jpg
I have 8 out of 10 symptoms

3. http://friendsofbecky.com/pictures.aspx
Wow, Cushing's develops fast! Wait... why is this girl on chemotherapy?

4. http://friendsofbecky.com/default.aspx
Becky died from cancer, Adrenocortical carcinoma

5. https://health.google.com/health/ref/Adrenocortical+carcinoma
Adrenocortical carcinoma has many of the same symptoms as Cushing's, is linked to cortisol over production (like Cushing's), and I should call my doctor if I have symptoms of Cushing's.

6.http://7thspace.com/headlines/332095/adrenocortical_carcinoma_secreting_cortisol_androgens_and_aldosterone_a_case_report.html
And I quote: "Adrenocortical carcinoma is a rare malignancy with a poor prognosis"

7. https://health.google.com/health/ref/Cushing+syndrome
if symptoms are caused by a pituitary tumor, treatment is surgery to remove the tumor, followed by radiation

A friend sent me an unbelievably yummie looking recipe for Gingerbread White Chocolate Blondies from My Kitchen Cafe. While I haven't gotten around to trying it out yet, I did click around and find some interesting dinner recipes. Tonight I made Creamy White Chili. Despite some substitutions, it turned out great - and Eric liked it! OMG!


Lately, my cooking has been a little hit-and-miss. I attribute this to my tendency to change up a recipe at will: adding and subtracting ingredients, as well as guestimation measuring. The former is usually due to missing items and/or my frustrating pickiness, while the latter I inherited from my mom - most of her recipes were done from recipes in her head that she measured by eye. Early this year I made an amazing lasagna based on the many plates I enjoyed in Italy - which was a matter of changing up my mother's spaghetti recipe into something thicker for the filling, and exchanging mascarpone for the traditional (American) ricotta. The first was amazing, the 2nd less so, and the most recent... bland. That's what I get for adding a million extra spices without keeping track and never bothering to write anything down!

So tonight when I didn't have all the proper ingredients, I was torn between accuracy and laziness (no desire to go to the grocery store at 7pm). So in the end, I left out the cumin and cayenne pepper, substituting half a package of taco seasoning instead. Then I decided that I should listen to my hesitancy about adding the green chillies (they can make me sick), and instead sauteed 2 chipotle peppers (from a can) with the onion (only half of what the recipe dictated). Then I removed the peppers because I didn't want them to overpower things. I also used a clove of garlic instead of the garlic powder. The sour cream I halved (and used fat-free), and I also substituted half-and-half for the whipping cream.

With all those substitutions, I couldn't believe it came out so great! The flavors were subtle (a rarity for me), and it wasn't all that spicy - on first taste. There was an aftertaste that was quite unexpected, and tasty! Definitely try it with crackers - it brings out the sweetness.

Next up, I'm going to try Melanie's Chicken and Corn Chowder with Sweet Potatoes. Sounds awesome!

I keep meaning to post an update on the pregnancy quest. I was feeling very negative about the whole thing a few weeks ago when I realized we've been trying for 12 months. Plus all the weird symptoms making me think I was pregnant that last 3 out of 4 cycles. Plus the fucking temperature taking has had ridiculous results - my results were more consistent in the first months AFTER the Pill - It's been a year, I should be all "normal" by now! So glad I went to the Gyno two weeks ago.

I went into her office feeling like the quest was over, that it wasn't going to happen. I left with a feeling of hope and a plan: try Clomid for up to 2 months (helps stimulate ovulation), have sperm tested, come back in 2 months if not pregnant to schedule a "dye study". They will shoot dye into my hoochie and look at it on xray or ultrasound (can't remember what she said exactly) to see where the dye goes: if the dye just stays there it means there is an obstruction of my fallopian tubes, if my tubes are good (open tubes = egg can travel to get fertilized and implanted in the uterus) then the dye will start to "leak" through and out the ends of the tubes. The dye is delivered by some small something that is inserted in your uterus, so we both knew I was going to try the clomid for a bit to see if the test could be avoided.

Unfortunately, by the time I got home that night with my prescription, I had somehow decided in my mind that she had said we would try Clomid for the first time next month. On day 5 of my cycle, I thought about it again and realized there was no logical reason to wait, so I must have remembered wrong. I was supposed to start the clomid on day 3 and go for 5 days, then start testing for ovulation 9-10 days later. However, the prescription bottle said to start on day 5, so that's the day I took my first dose. I think I may have messed up further by not taking them as close to 24 hours apart as I should have: some nights 6pm, some nights 11pm - midnight for most.

So lets get on to Cycle Day 9: 97.4* (down from 97.9* previous day) last day of Clomid, Negative OVulation Test, small cramp on the left from my uterus, nausea, felt foggy and exhausted all day, bloated and slow, back to bed from noon to 5pm

CD 10: 98.1* (spike!), negative OVT, some light nausea, good energy day

CD 11: 97.8* (another drop?!), neg OVT, stomach upset from previous night's homemade lasagna, nausea

CD 12: 97.7*, neg OVT, woke @ 4:40am with severe nausea, right side cramping, and gas. By 10am stomach was better, but nausea persists and cramps were worse - tempted to take pain medication. By late afternoon the cramping was so bad I took a nap after crying in bed. Realized that latest bought of nausea (every day at least one slight episode) is accompanied sometimes with a slight dizzyness if I turn my head too fast when walking, and also that the nausea starts a few moments after standing. I feel fine laying down or sitting up. Feeling of being really full and/or bloated persisted all day - scale thinks I gained 5 pounds over the weekend!

CD 13: forgot to test for Temp, negative OVT, woke @ 4am with severe cramping, nausea, and that bloating that makes me feel like an enormous, waddling beast. Google produced results that this can be a symptom of 1st few weeks of pregnancy, and some women feel cramps off and on during their pregnancy. Kind of freaked out now, since I thought I was going to get 9 months of relief while pregnant! Feeling real anxiety over not being able to take pain medication.

So what now? We're doing the Clomid + OV Testing because we think I'm not ovulating regulary. And yet on clomid my temps are still wacky, and I haven't ovulated yet. Thing is, the test is supposed to be negative TWO DAYS before you ovulate. So I'm cramping and sick and not even 48 hours within ovulation??

I'm not feelin' the love, uterus. Can we call a truce?

ps: I should add (because I think K will be reading this) that I didn't reread the fertility book like she suggested, which is dumb of me because I could easily have gotten things muddled in my mind about how this works. The only reason why I didn't was because I was going to stop taking my temperature completely. But when GYNO gave me the Clomid prescription that brings on ovulation, I thought it would be a good chance to compare my temperatures with the positive OV Test. (un)Lucky me, no positive test yet!

pps: forgetfulness persists - when my sis-in-law asked what I got her mom for Christmas, I totally blanked. She had to remind me that she had suggested I make mother's jewelry and that's when it came back to me that indeed that's what I was working on doing. Hand dexterity/weakness/pain persist - did 10 minutes of wire wrapping last night before giving up - with only one earring about 85% done.

ppps: I made 2 sales yesterday!! After the 2 week dryspell - woohoo! Subtract yesterday's Showcase advertisement and the one last week (that gained me no +Fav or sales), and the sales just about cover the cost of materials used in both pieces. If you sell on Etsy, do NOT use the item-specific jewelry sections - as I suspected, who is going to take the time to do 2nd level search when they can just look at Jewelry with one click. Also frustrated with Etsy for what I think is poor placement of the links to showcase, and general lack of advertising them.

pppps: if anyone reading this sees Bryan, let him know I said happy birthday - for once I'm not envious of him being a month older than me! It's tempting to do it myself, but I'm taking a break from FB right now.

I am pissed off. And bitter. And I am pissed off that I'm pissed off and bitter. I don't like the feeling, I don't like what it does to my emotions, I don't like how it makes me treat other people.

I just can't seem to end it. Because OTHER PEOPLE are pissing me off. I'm not pissy about traffic, TV programming, Republicans... I'm pissed off at individual people. This is compounded by the fact that a lot of the people doing this are people I know and care about, and they're not even aware of what they're doing. I'm pissy, but I'm afraid to say anything about it because I don't want everyone else to get pissy at me!

This has been brewing for a few months now. Obama turning traitor, the anti-gay marriage crap, the holidays approaching adding stress. But the past 2-3 weeks have gotten me to the point where I don't want to be around people because I'm afraid the next word out of their mouth will make me EXPLODE.

I want to say it right now: I am pissed off with the concepts of Christian "bias" and righteousness.

1. Yep, some non-Christians started to complain that "Merry Christmas" was annoying them. Some higher-ups tried to be more accommodating and/or inclusive, putting up some Menorahs - Yay! Some higher ups went to the point of changing their professional phrasing to eliminate mentioning Christmas - erm, not really necessary in most cases! Others went just plain bananas, allowing every voice to be heard (even the crackpots) or shutting down all religious holiday speech at all. WTF?

Yep, it's gotten annoying. I'm an atheist and I find much of it ridiculous. But I would really appreciate it if when someone says the phrase "Happy Holidays" you refrain from sneering, judging, or proclaiming bias. No one told YOU to stop saying Merry Christmas. You keep on with that - you and the MAJORITY of Christian Americans can keep on wishing each other good tidings and cheer, yay! But a VAST minority not saying it is not bias, not a conspiracy, not anti-Christian, nor anti-American. The even SMALLER minority who are annoyed with Christians wishing them well for religious holidays they don't celebrate, well they're just ungracious. But them voicing their opinions is not bias.

2. Ever heard of institutional racism? Here's the definition I learned in college: The term "institutional racism" describes societal patterns that have the net effect of imposing oppressive or otherwise negative conditions against identifiable groups on the basis of race or ethnicity. The example used that finally made me "get it" was something like this:

A white man with a 4.0 GPA and a black man with a 3.5 GPA apply to the same college. White man is accepted based on merit. If affirmative action steps in, maybe so does the black man, or just maybe he gets in and the white man doesn't because the school is now full. Affirmative Action sounds ridiculous in the context, right? Well let's go back a few years: white man born to middle-class family with steady jobs, lives in the same house all his life, goes to a school with adequate funding. The black man born to a lower-class family living in an inner-city, father was shot in a random drive-by, mother loses her job trying to manage family on her own, family forced to move to a tiny apartment in a worse neighborhood, no longer can they afford new school clothes each year, the address change put the boy in the worst school district in the state. Now compare the two: white boy with advantages got perfect grades, black boy too busy babysitting siblings to do homework somehow manages to get a 3.5GPA despite this. What if the black man had been born in the white man's neighborhood? Surely someone with his intelligence and without dangerous distractions could achieve a 4.0GPA in that situation. This is the RESULT that Affirmative Action tries to correct. Institutional Racism is the fact that black man's family live in that neighborhood because a generation ago the grandparents didn't have anywhere else to live on their salaries because they were born to a previous generation who couldn't get a fair wage because of their skin color, because a generation before that the family were ex-slaves living in a shack. Slavery has been outlawed, but the ramifications are still there. The entire government is set up in such a way to favor well-off people, who tend to be white because they tend to come from more stable homes and neighborhoods. But it's the non-white populations that need the most help.

Boot-strap it is the answer from Rush and others. An entire racial population is born to a system that works against them, and it's up to them to crawl out of the hole? We have no duty to fill the hole, put everyone on level playing ground?

I think Affirmative Action often does too much, at the expense of too many. But I believe it is the right thing to do to try.

3. Now, change the story a little bit: imagine a Christian and a Muslim. Imagine a government built to favor Christians, but you are born a Muslim. Imagine Christian money, Christian flag pledging, Christian holidays where everything closes, swearing on a Christian bible to prove you are truthful. The Christian guy loves his life and his religion - it is reaffirmed everyday in a million little ways. The Muslim is annoyed that his money only has white faces on it and praises a god he does not believe in, he is singled-out when he is the only one who doesn't pledge allegiance because it is too much like worshipping a false-idol, imagine having to cram your Ramadan traditions into one afternoon because it's a school night but later everyone at school gets 2 weeks off to celebrate the birth of a god you don't believe in, imagine being seen as untruthful because you won't swear by a book you don't have faith in. Now imagine Christmas sales and television programming and neighborhood decorations popping up everywhere the day after Thanksgiving and continuing until the end of the year. Imagine co-workers asking you to recommend a good place to buy a Christmas tree. Imagine office parties where everyone exchanges gifts because they all worship the same god that you don't believe in. Imagine your mosque's newsletter being stamped with "Merry Christmas" by the Post Office. Imagine every store you walk into, every restaurant hostess, every bank teller, every customer service representative wishing you a nice time celebrating their holiday that you won't actually celebrate. Imagine the President going on national television to send Christian blessings for a Merry Christmas to his citizens, assuming they are all Christians who will be celebrating, with not even a shout-out to all the Muslims, Jews, Hindus, Buddhists, atheists, etc. who voted for him but won't be having Christmas dinner.

I'm thinking Institutional Religionism sucks ass right about now. I'm not getting a single paid holiday off to celebrate my god, so is it really any wonder that I'm going to be grumpy? Maybe grumble a little? Maybe write a letter to the newspaper? Asking your local representative for equal acknowledgement of your religious holidays? I'm not in a movement to take your religion away from you, nor am I biased against you. I'm sick of the Christian favoritism, which in its very nature is bias against me!

When I wish you Happy Holidays, I'm not disrespecting you, I'm being nice!

3. You have every right to publicly rejoice in your god, just as I have every right to point out how ridiculous I think you are for doing so. When you tell me two men shouldn't be allowed to marry because homosexuality is a sin, I'm going to mention the fact that marriage has nothing to do with what your god thinks is sinful or not - it was here before your religion even started! When you claim the answer to youth violence is prayer in school, I'm going to point out that I didn't pray in school, I'm an atheist, and I'm not a gang-banger either. When you claim that the only thing keeping humanity in check is god's law, I'm going to point out that I don't believe in god or any laws you think he wrote, and I haven't become a serial killer or pedophile. When you decide it's fun to play devil's advocate by retorting that you question my definition of morality, it's really just singling me out in need of correction if you don't also retort to your other friends' religious exclamations by posting witty anti-god arguments in response.

4. Until horns grow out of his head and he opens the doorway to allow fiery hell to consume the planet, calling the President the Anti-Christ is a bit alarmist. Urgently forwarding an email claiming proof that the president is evil, without even looking up some sort of confirmation elsewhere, is hysterical - and I don't mean funny. I have a problem with the word hysterical, because the Greeks liked to use it to describe menstruating women as psychologically ill, so I don't use it very often. But stumbling upon one nugget of information and then foaming at the mouth while screaming to the world that you now have proof of supernatural evil is irresponsible, unconscionable, and, yep, hysterical.

5. People who refuse to acknowledge scientific facts because of religion or politics are out of their minds. Just because Al Gore says it's so, doesn't make it true. Ditto Glenn Beck. Move beyond the headlines, the manipulated numbers, the accusations, and read the scientific results. And keep in mind that new facts that don't support the old facts 100% is not proof of anything. Doing the same test 10 times with 9 positive results and 1 negative result does not automatically invalidate the test or the positive results.

6. I a seriously questioning just how much Christmas tradition I want to keep in my life and involve my future children with. I thought I had decided this years ago: tradition - yes, religion - no. But both religion and tradition are so overshadowed by commercialism. And I'm not just talking about Christmas sales before Thanksgiving.

Why do we give presents to each other to celebrate the birth of god? Why do we go out of our way, our budgets, and our minds making sure everyone we love knows that they're loved because your bought them the perfect gift on someone else's birthday? Why is it that one present isn't enough? Just how many presents, how many dollars spent, how many decorations hung, how many deals gotten does it take to show our love for each other is genuine?

Humans seem to really like gifts. Often, both giving and receiving. We like to celebrate. It is in our nature to shower gifts on newborns and have a celebration, almost as ingrained as the innate need to love and protect anything with a small face and big eyes. So we keep giving them gifts, because we keep gushing over them and those eyes and our need to bend over backwards for them. It becomes habit. Tradition. Ritual. Once something hits ritual stage, it's too big for its britches - a giant convoluted mess that overshadows everything that was originally celebrated.

Don't let the ritual of shopping and materialism and one-upmanship make you lose sight of your holiday, your loved ones, your budget, your sanity.

In closing, this seems long, but for the points I've hit, I could swear I've missed some stuff. But other than being a little bleary eyed from staring at the monitor, I feel a million times better!

ps: Christmas is not the reason for the season. In our part of the world, December brings the season of winter, which is brought about by the earth rotating away from the sun. Winter is in July in Australia. I'm pretty sure Australia doesn't celebrate Christmas in July. All together now: Christmas is a holiday, not a season. Now birthdays on the other hand, now there's a misnomer. The phrase should really be birthweek. An entire week of celebrations and feasts and honors and presents! Celebrating birthmonth might be nice, but even I think that would be a little excessive, especially if 1/12th of the population sat around and did nothing every month except waiting to be adored and showered with gifts.

pps: but can there really be too much excess for birthdays??! I'll have to ponder this one.

ppps: yep, I'm a materialistic shopaholic. I can't quite believe it myself that I'm complaining about the overspending at Christmas. Who'da thunk it?!

Overwhelmed with frustration, this has not been a good week. Maybe chiro tomorrow will help?

I thought I would be blogging regularly about trying to conceive, but I haven't been blogging much of anything at all anywhere - even my business blog has fallen by the wayside. Not enough motivation/energy (surprise!). Also, NOT thinking about it has been keeping me going. Well, not dwelling on it anyway.

Saturday was Halloween and it was great - saw my neice & nephew, spent an hour putting on a bad vampire make-up job, gave out lots of candy ("a whole bag?!" they all cried), watched some TV with hubby, then hit the hay early. Oh, and my temperature spiked at 98.5! Woohoo!

Sunday morning I was so tired. And my temperature was 97.8. Un-woohoo.

Yesterday I woke up miserable and more exhausted. Temperature was 98.0. The fertility journal page announced that this was Week 1 of Month 12 for trying to conceive (TTC). I went around the house scarfing anything and everything, and wishing I could just let go of the niggling sense of hope and responsibility so I could get really fucking drunk. I slept a lot too. Went online and checked out some fertility websites/forums, not much really stood out. So in my journal I wrote to myself:

"Thanksgiving is coming
Christmas follows too quickly
and then I'm 37 and closer
to menopause and/or imperfect
eggs = Down's Syndrome"

This is a sad, frustrating milestone for me, and I feel like it's time to go in and get more testing done. But when I suggested this about two months ago, Eric was very negative. I thought at first it was because I said I wanted him to have his sperm count done - a threat to his manliness or something. He insisted it was just because it was unnecessary at this early stage, and he was frustrated I was taking it too seriously. Once again, it seemed Eric was rolling his eyes at me when I try to convey that I think something is wrong with me. He doesn't seem to know how hurtful that is. But I've gotten better and just shoving that down and forgetting about it - that's just Eric. Let him have his way, a few more months of trying before testing won't hurt, right?

At least that's what I told myself after the arguing was done and the tears had been wiped away. He told me he thought it was too early to be concerned because to him, we had "only just started being serious about trying". What did he think all the temperature monitoring and timed sex was about? He said that if we were serious, we would be following the method of every-other-day. I was dumbfounded. I had made him read highlighted sections of a fertility/conceiving tip book, and here he was quoting it back to me like it was gospel and the only way. I did not have him read about the temperature taking and how much more accurate it is, because it's just so freaking complicated and since he's not doing the charting, does he really need to know or care how that process goes? I tried to explain to him that "quality is more important than quantity", that having more sex isn't what's helpful, but timing the sex is. He didn't really believe me, and that's when I gave up.

He just has no idea what this is like for me. We're having more sex these last few months, so conceiving is on his mind more often. But conceiving is on my mind EVERY MORNING when I wake up. For hours at a time when the temperatures change. Constantly in the last 4-5 days of my cycle. Every trip to the bathroom when I check the TP swipe.

My body has been my enemy for such a long time, I do myself not to let it get me down, because it has a huge impact on my mood - for years now I have spent most of my therapy time talking about my physical conditions because of how miserable they make me. But having proof every morning of what's wrong? Seeing my cycles shift from month to month. Temperatures drop and rise at unexpected times. Temperatures slowly stepping up or down, which is an indication of non-ovulating problems. How it feels to ignore that evidence on the day there is a real drop or spike in temperature, because surely THIS is the true result, right? I can be ovulating on day 22 of my cycle, right?????

I have a form of Endomitriosis that is not supposed to affect my fertility - no real scarring because the endo. cells have intertwined with my entire uterus. So painful periods that surgery can't help, but supposedly won't change my fertility.

I remembered something yesterday. When I was 11 and started my novel, the main character - me - was infertile (and resistant to hangovers!), it was just a plot convenience. But then in high school, once I lost my virginity, Richard and I weren't exactly careful with sex, not using condoms very often, depending on the "pull out method". No pregnancies. My 2nd boyfriend was actually worse - I don't think we used a condom EVER. No pregnancies.

So many people getting pregnant, having abortions, having babies, dealing with teen motherhood and sucky teen fathers. And here's me having unprotected sex day after day with NO repercussions.

Have I actually been infertile all along? I never did go in to get the results of the Day-3 blood work - I assumed if it was unusual, they would try to contact me. When I took a home fertility test, the results were iffy. Unlike Yes/No for pregnancy, just turning pink isn't good enough - if it's too light or too dark, that's a problem. WTF? How am I supposed to tell what is too light and too dark??? So of course I ignored it.

When we started this process, I was slightly concerned that we'd waited so long. Slightly more concerned when I found out that every year after 35 increases my chances of having a baby with Down's Syndrome. But not REAL concern. I'd never been fond of the idea of being pregnant anyway, so if it didn't happen, there was always adoption. I have since changed my mind about the pregnancy itself. Reading magazines and books and websites and my journal's sidenotes has gotten me excited to actually experience pregnancy.

I remember being so calm. Excited, but calm. I was not going to freak out like "those women" who stress constantly about not being pregnant. And I was doing a pretty damn good job until 2 months ago.

All those weird symptoms, I was so nauseated for the week running up to my period, I knew it had to be positive. I started my force-of-will voodoo thinking to make the baby a girl (shut-up, a girl has to keep some ridiculous hopes to stay sane!). I picked out a girl baby name years ago, so suddenly my uterus and its passenger had a name. I knew this was stupid at the time. But everything in my body was screaming I was pregnant. And then I had my period.

And now it's happening again. The nausea isn't as strong, but there has been a lot of cramping. The temperature did some small step-laddering, but then there was a recognizable fall. Stepladder up, to a recognizable spike. More nausea & cramps. Temperature crash on Sunday could only mean I'm not pregnant. Monday was confirmation. But then today it's another huge spike? WTF? My cycles have finally become normal enough to be 28 days or very close. But my temperatures are all over the place? What gives?

This morning I was frustrated that I hadn't heard from Apple about my computer. Went online and saw that my computer had been fixed and ready to pick up LAST FRIDAY. Zero phone calls. Zero emails. No contact at all. Which is exactly what happened 2 years ago when it broke. And I'm pretty sure it was a hard drive problem then too. The store employees were wishy washy with their apologies. I didn't want apologies. I didn't want concession or money or glory. I want accountability. I want a mark to go on the store's record. So the next time they fucked with a customer, another mark would go in and there would be a pattern and Apple would have reason to actually DO something about the ineptitude.

Calling Apple today gave me a big run around of nonsense. Apple seems to have no way to collect feedback on their people, practices, or services. Just their products. Their website. Their forums. Their online store's glitches.

Thanks for making this day that much more pissy Apple. Truly, you deserve a break today. I'll bring in some cupcakes when I arrive hysterical at the store. That will teach them. Yelling at mindless drones because my wandering womb* is fucking with me. How very satisfying.

ps: *it has come to my attention that sometimes when I think I'm making clever word-play, no one has any fucking clue what I'm talking about. The term "hysterical" comes from the condition of "hysteria", described by the Greeks as female instabilty caused by her womb wandering around her body keeping her from getting pregnant and just overall properly feminine. The inclusion of such phrases seemed kind of a no-brainer to me given the circumstances. But when I sit down depressed and remark "I discoverd this morning that I'm un-pregnant. Yay." in a fake happy voice, this does not mean that I have changed my mind about getting pregnant. This means that I started my period today, I have 5 days of sheer pain and drug-addledness to look forward to, and oh yes, there's another month's hopes for parenthood down the drain of my fucking toilet.

It has been an amazingly productive weekend. I designed 4 different necklaces and have ideas for at least two more to start right away. I only managed to string and finish one of them, but I decided the day would be better spent taking photos. Took lots and lots of pics, and I've been hashing through them in Photoshop. As always, when there is a deadline looming, I am worried that I will not finish in time, or I didn't read the instructions right, or I forgot to do something vitally important. Not to mention the second-guessing myself.

I have discovered that my camera's self-timer is my new best friend. Despite all my research, every time I try to manually adjust the shutter speed or ISO or f-stop my pictures are still hit-and-miss at best. I think I've found a good setting, I take shots of all my items, and when I upload them they're all out of focus. All my work is for naught because my hands shake so much - it's so bad that using a tripod isn't enough. Nothing can secure the camera enough to keep it absolutely still as I press the button. So I finally worked out how to turn on my self-timer.

I tried to look online for a remote trigger, but all the ones that say they work for my camera brand conspicuously leave out my model. I'm pretty sure this means I'm SOL in that department, esp. since my manual assures me there is no trigger available for this camera. So here I am, experimenting with my auto-timer. And it's working like a charm! Unfortunately, I'm still taking a dozen or so pics of each piece at different settings just to be sure. I so very much hate the lighting in this damn room. What was I thinking with dark walls?

But back to the shaking hands. A few months before our trip to Italy last year, I noticed some weird stuff going on with me, but ignored it until I got to Italy. Pretty much ZERO percent of my pictures taken in churches turned out because my hands were too shakey. My hands shake and are weakening while becoming slightly arthritic. I am clumsier than ever, I'm forgetting things all the time, and quite often I stop mid-sentence when talking to someone because my mind just suddenly goes blank. I finally went to a neurologist, and I passed the cursory examination with flying colors - the doctor told me she was surprised because usually people who come in with so many symptoms get at least a few red flags when they undergo testing. Imagine that, one of my doctors has no idea what's wrong with me. Hoo-rah!

So as I was stringing my necklace this morning I noticed my hands were cramping and shaking, and also exhibiting a definite loss of strength and dexterity in my left hand. Which of course has me thinking about the future.

Doing this show in November has changed me pretty much over-night. I am so excited and motivated. And part of it is this feeling that it may be my last hoo-rah before my hands deteriorate to the point that I can't make jewelry anymore. So I could at least go out with a bang, right? Except today it ocurred to me that it is just as likely, if not more, that my hands will become too bad before the event. And with my iffy health, any number of things could go wrong between now and then to fuck me up. Not to mention I might be pregnant and experiencing morning sickness by then.

So after convincing myself I wanted to do this and I was capable of it, after convincing Eric that I am capable of doing it so he is willing to pay the entrance fee (the highest I've ever paid!), now I am questioning myself. Again. Imagine that.

But tonight I decided to just fuck it. The worst that could happen is that I cancel and get our money back - I have until the day before the event to back out and get nearly a full refund. Plus, I have been so lacking in enthusiasm and motivation to do just about anything lately, I think this might be just what I need.

So I'm doubting myself. But I'm just telling Self to fuck-off. I've got enough on my plate without adding another heaping serving of worry on the side - especially about things that may not even happen.

Most useful lesson I got from therapy: worry (and guilt) is a useless emotion. Worrying about the future does absolutely nothing for you but make your present miserable. It is surprisingly easy to stop worrying when I tell myself this.

Well, at least for a few hours, after which it's bound to pop into my head again... But at least this way I can catch some sleep between then and now. Ciao baby - I've got to motor if I want to beat Eric turning the bedroom light off for the night.

The gem show was amazing! I picked up a lot of stuff that I've never seen before - most of it various shades of chalcedony. Chalcedony has officially replaced moonstone as my favorite stone. It comes in so many amazing colors, and the murky/creamy translucency makes them appear to glow from within when the light hits them.

So I spent all day designing, mostly with the chalcedony. There is a lot about jewelry making that is calm and mind-numbing, but in a good, zen sort of way. I let my mind wander all over the place, inevitably coming around to whatever story I'm trying to plot out enough to write down. Today was no exception, but I kept coming back to the beads - I love these new beads so much, I want desperately to go back and get another set of everything so I can make duplicate pieces for myself! I was such a good girl yesterday trying so hard to stay within my budget, I don't want to blow it all by tempting myself going back into that building. I just have to make it until 6pm tomorrow night, then the show will be gone!

Anyway, here's some of the stuff I designed today, pre-assembly. Per usual, the camera was not cooperating, but I only took the pics about an hour and this room sucks for light during the day, so taking pics in here at night-time is a fool's errand. The deep-red walls just suck in the light like greedy little sponges.

Uh-oh, I brought up the walls. I will not rant about my living room fiasco. Nope. I will stay on task!

Anyway, here they are, just a sneak peak!

I'm trying to learn to live in the light, stop embracing my darkness and hiding out until the rain returns. I love the darkness, I love the rain. But there's only so much misery and self-pity and loneliness I can take. I promised myself last year that everything would be changing, and I meant it. I just haven't done that great of a job so far. It's so damn easy to slip into old patterns.

I want to write more often, even if it's just in this silly blog, so I searched high and low for an acceptable layout that would be bright and inviting and representative of who I've been and who I'm trying to become.

I want to create more in general. This has been a better year for that than previous, but I'm still only working in spurts, letting the laziness suck me in. Having no regular reason to leave the house is an invitation to disaster. I've discovered that I like to be alone, that I can often be more productive in solitude. But staying at home, it's so damn easy to turn on the TV and forget to turn it off. I really need to police my TV time.

So today I drove into town to pick up a copy of my brand new City of Seattle Business License! I am now officially a sole proprietorship, a small business owner, an entrepreneur! Of course, I've been operating without a license for awhile - I never really stopped after dissolving my previous partnership. But it's nice to be all official-like. Plus, it's required for the event I'm going to be applying to.

If I have my way, this November I will be having my first public event in about two years. I don't want to say anymore right now - don't want to jinx it! But thanks, Michelle, for putting it in my head. :)

So this weekend is going to be all about creating. I'm putting the finishing touches on a piece tonight. Then tomorrow I'm going to be working with this amazing chalcedony dyed a vibrant purple. Absolutely nothing comes close to matching it in color, so finding accents to go with them has been a challenge. Then, hopefully, I will create at least 2 more pieces by the end of the weekend. And preferably have it all photographed by then as well. That will leave Monday to put together the application packet.

Coming up with designs is just amazing. Implementing them is challenging. Photographing the results can drive me nuts, but in the end it's very rewarding. Putting together an application packet for an arts & crafts show is hell. No matter how much you think you know your way around photoshop, no matter how stocked on ink and paper you think you are, the process always takes at least twice as long as you set-aside. Because you DON'T know photoshop to do this one simple thing that you can't understand why the program wasn't made to do at the press of a button. And your printer hates you. I'm pretty sure that as soon as you open Photoshop, your printer catches on and begins binge-drinking your ink in the hopes that your project will totally bomb and it can laugh at you.

But right now I need to catch some Zzzzzzs so I'm off like a prom dress. 'night.

I was sick of the old "dark" layout, so I've been looking for something a bit lighter, and I just adore this new look. Unfortunately, there are some ticks that are taking me forever to fix. I've been at this for hours, fighting the sleepiness induced by my medication. No more: I'm going to bed. We'll see if I can iron out the rest of this when I'm actually awake. FYI, Deluxe Templates has some AWESOME blogger layouts, all free!

Well, it's official - I have now started freaking out about not being able to conceive. I truly believed I could do this and not be one of those women who worries herself to death wondering why she wasn't pregnant yet. But now my body is just pissing me off.

Starting in January, I've been trying to track my Basal Body Temperature to determine ovulation days. My cycle has always been wonky, so I knew coming in it wouldn't be the best way to do this, but it is the simplest and cheapest. Last month I noticed my cycle was exactly 28 days, and I got excited. I counted out when I "should" ovulate if I had another 28 days cycle, and announced that there would be some sexy-sexy on the date.

Bad migraine or something that day, but we had "I" the day before. Then we had "I" the next day after "ovulation day". Also, on O-Day and the day after, I had these tiny pin-point pain/cramps. On O-Day it was just to the right of my lady parts, the next day it was centered over my lady parts. Ovulation can be "felt" by some women, so I assumed that was going on, and did a little cheer that maybe we had finally gotten the timing right this time. The little pains were very minor, and didn't last very long.

Fast Forward exactly one week - day 21 of cycle. Nausea started around 10pm, stayed until I went to bed. Woke on Friday day 22 exhausted with mild headache, mild cramps, and nauseau - all but the nausea disappeared within an hour. Nausea stayed all day. Including at the wedding for one of Eric's buddies. The reception was sheer hell. After the food being 1.5 hours late, I gorged myself in hunger, which finally tipped the nausea over into overload. We went home immediately. Sunday took The Test - negative. Figured it was too early (which it was once I did the math), but I had concluded that if there were enough hormones to make me this sick, it would be enough to run the test, right? Wrong. My punishment was bad nausea that finally sent me back to bed. Woke up 1.5 hours later, nausea gone, but another headache and exhausted. Nausea soon came back and stayed all day - but only while standing or walking.

Nausea all day Monday, afraid it would ruin the Depeche Mode concert. Once we found our seats, I realized the nausea was gone. Did not return until Tuesday morning, but by afternoon it was gone and I felt rejuvenated - really energetic for the first time in weeks. Did a bunch of cleaning/organizing. Next day (Wed, Day 26) woke nauseaus again, went back to bed from noon to 4:30.

Thursday no nausea, but really exhausted when I woke up, yet unable to go back to sleep. Finally, Friday - Day 28. TODAY. Took The Test at first wake, despite discovering spotting at 12:30 am when I went to bed the night before. Test negative, more spotting, some nausea.

As I write this, nausea has been competing with mild cramps. Cramps won - just a matter of minutes until I run to take pain medication. Went online to figure out what could cause all that nausea only to end in not-pregnancy, with no help. Chalk it up to Swine Flu? I did find a cute little site, theMomCrowd.com, with an interesting blog entry about fake morning sickness.

So what's going through my mind right now? The fact that I have a bunch more stuff to do for Heidi's baby shower tomorrow. Worrying about driving Michelle to Port Orchard in the morning when I will most likely be hopped up on drugs, and wondering if Eric will wake up early to take us. Wondering if I should avoid my T3 w/ codeine and pot and alcohol in case this is a mistake - despite seriously wanting to go on a bender right now. Normally, at the first sign of cramps or bleeding, I down some pills because waiting until the cramps rev up is stupid - they go from full-on to on-your-knees-screaming in 5-10 minutes, which is sooo not enough time for drugs to kick in.

So yes, worrying about not harming the not-there baby. Griping at myself for doing same. Telling myself to get off my butt to finish baby shower stuff. Seeing the irony in learning I'm not pregnant the day before the shower, but too numb to really emote. Really pissed at my body for having one more thing fucked up about it. Questioning whether it's Eric's plumbing - Big "I" day before and day after estimated Ovulation, so what gives? What's next? A fertility watch?

On the plus side, the party favor packets are looking soooo adorable!!! I am a genius with paper apparently. I even figured out how to use watercolor pencils. I always did think I had an eye for color. Soooo glad I stumbled upon the idea of a jungle theme - if I hadn't, I don't think there would be a theme, just a mish-mash of "It's a Boy!" stuff and nothing to inspire this kind of creativity. I owe it all to the Giraffe stamp I bought at Paper Zone. On display was the cutest little card with a giraffe stamped on it, and the most interesting, delicate coloring I'd ever seen. I was told it was from watercolor pencils. I circled the shop anyway, but of course came back, grabbed the stamp, and now everything is Safari themed with focus on Giraffes and Lions. So awesome!

Would it be tacky to put out business cards at the baby shower? Just got the new ones, so really excited about them!

And to think I thought I was coming down here to cry my eyes and sneak some pot. Good thing I didn't rent that pregnancy romantic comedy last night. Good thing I forgot to buy myself a copy of "The Waitress" to celebrate. Good thing I was already calling the not-there baby by her name.

PS: *giggle/snort* one of the websites talking about nausea and pregnancy was a forum where everyone had quotes about GOD in their signatures. And another where sound medical advice was given by someone trying to counsel someone whose symptoms seemed to be caused by stress and not pregnancy - and then she had to throw in the part about praying. The NOB I'm over that bullshit. This is the kind of crap that makes you doubt religion. I'd hate to be going through that right now on top of everything. Although... maybe if I seek out the GSM, he will bless my womb with his noodley appendage and I will miraculously conceive. Or maybe he can fondle Eric's bits? Couldn't hurt, right?

Just change a few of the facts, the timeline, remove the father's saintly make-over, and you have my story. Holy. Fuck.

From a Dear Prudie column courtesy of Slate:

Seattle: My father was abusive to me and my youngest brother, and in addition to the physical and verbal abuse, I was also molested by this man. I told my mother, or tried to tell my mother, a couple of times when I was younger that it was going on, once when I was 11, and again when I was 14. She ignored my attempt to ask for help, and swept it all under the rug. It was just a non-event.

Several years later, when I was about 16, my parents got divorced because my father was having an affair that he was not willing to give up—just one in a string of others. I saw this as a sign that my mother was finally seeing him for how he truly was, and took that opportunity to talk to her about the previous years of abuse. She claimed she never knew about it (a convenient go-to excuse for everything regarding her husband apparently) and swore to never try to rekindle their marriage now that she knew about this.

Fast forward ten years later, they have remarried each other. She says now that he was 'saved' and goes to church with her every Sunday, and that I must have been mistaken about some of what I 'remember'. In other words, she is happy to just have her husband back and is eager to sweep everything under the rug, once again, even if that means thinking of me as a liar.

I have since moved to the west coast—they live on the east coast, and have a family and four children. My parents have been re-married for many years now, and after several years of frankly avoiding speaking to her and her new-again husband (I refuse to call him 'dad' any longer), I finally started accepting phone calls from her a few years ago for the sake of my 3 daughters—her grandchildren, who are teenagers now. My youngest son is 5 and has never met them.

She occasionally makes remarks about why I don't visit, or suggests that I let my daughters spend the summer there with her.

She is clearly in the complete denial phase again, and I just don't know how to respond. Normally I just say we're busy or we have a trip planned or some other excuse. I have no intentions of EVER visiting these people (my parents) ever again, and I have no desire to ever have them around my own children. I barely tolerate phone calls, which is my limit, for the sake of my kids, and those are only with my mom, never my dad.

I do not want to dredge these painful memories out of the closet again, as I feel I have moved on and dealt with them. But what can I say to my mother to get her to close the 'visit' topic forever without cutting off all communication with her, which would hurt my kids?

Emily Yoffe: Your mother suggests you send your daughters to spend the summer! Is this so grandpa can find some new victims? You need to tell your mother what you've expressed so well here: you are willing to have phone contact so your children will have some relationship with her. However, there will not be any visits because your father is a pedophile who sexually assaulted you, and you will never, ever allow your children to be in the same room with him. You can tell your mother if she is unsatisfied with this arrangement, you can go back to having no contact whatsoever. And your letter leaves me worried that your father is still out there in the community, possibly hurting other children.

Except for the occasional TV commercials, mostly by used car dealerships, I don't really have much experience with the concept of "Christmas in July". I just thought that someone thought it was a clever way to make a sale, and every once in awhile, someone else thinks they are clever by using the phrase themselves. The Etsy Bloggers are celebrating it this year, so I thought I'd give it a whirl.

First, I looked up the concept on Wikipedia. Apparently, it's kind of a big deal in the Southern Hemisphere because down there winter is in full spring come July. For them, it is a social event, an excuse to throw parties and celebrate with friends. The US and other Norther Hemisphere countries have taken the idea and used it for marketing purposes - capitalism at its finest!

I'm not a huge fan of capitalism, but I do quite like making money, so I kept poking around Etsy to see if this bandwagon was worth jumping on. A lot of shops are having sales, mostly very low-key, so I figured I should join in the fun! But how to celebrate? Or rather, how to turn my shop into a Christmas sale?

I decided I was going to mark all my items in green or red at a discount. I spent a few days creating some new green jewelry to list, because that color has been woefully absent in my shop so far. Today I listed the new jewelry, marked down the prices of all my green and red jewelry by 20%, and put everything in a new section called "Christmas In July".

Now all I need to do is get the word out:

HEY YOU! Yes, YOU! There's a sale in my shop with your name on it! All "Christmas in July" items have been marked down by 20%. Sale ends 7/26/09 - so come on down and bring a friend!

Here are some new items just listed for this sale - happy shopping!



ps: I've also been working hard on my photography, so be sure to take a look around to catch the new looks of some older items!

Lately I have become frustrated with the wordiness of my writing. My favorite authors in my formative years were Anne Rice and Charles Dickens, both of whom are exceptionally wordy. This definitely rubbed off on me. I think it's mostly that in my mind, there is a certain cadence when writing/reading that is especially appealing when you use more long words and make your sentences longer. My internal reader absolutely hates simple or short sentences. In fact, I just added the words "or short" to that last sentence so that it would feel "balanced".*

Unfortunately, this makes me a terrible editor of my own writing. Working so hard to find balance in each sentence, provides a sort of harmony between my thoughts and what I've written. The effect of this is that I strongly feel all my sentences are perfect, with the exception of type-Os and mispellings.

Also frustrating is my tendency to over-explain myself for the sake of clarity. I feel it is absolutely vital when I write or say something that my audience understands exactly what I am trying to say. I am the Queen of Rephrasing. I think I'm actually worse when I'm talking, but right now I'm talking about writing. The result is that I spew forth every fact I can think of about the subject. As an example, something as mundane as relaying a bad driving experience cannot be done in 1, 2, or even 3 sentences. I have to describe the other car in every detail I can remember, every emotion I had during the encounter, the driving conditions like weather and other traffic, even what's playing on the damn radio! What's worse is that I have this need to relay all the facts in the order that they happened.

Let's say a guy cut me off on the highway in such a way that I feared for my safety. I would first describe what I was doing right before it happened, describe the encounter itself, describe the side details, describe my emotions. Then I would move on to describing what happened at the conclusion, my emotions at the end of it, and any result of the experience to the world around me like the other drivers slowing down too - including the number of drivers who slowed down as a result, vs. how many didn't seem to notice at all. And then, finally, I would summarize, probably by repeating my emotions via rephrasing.

Seriously, WTF? Whenever I take a call at work that needs to be transferred to someone else, I try to describe everything I know about the caller with precise phrasing to make the other person more likely to take the call. This took me years to figure out, and I might never have realized it if an old boss hadn't been constantly impatient about everything. After years of hand-gestures to wrap it up, and the occassional plea for summarization, it finally dawned on me that I am incapable of summarization!

I remember a particular assignment in high school where I had to write a summary of a chapter in history for my group buddies. The only way I could summarize was by cutting each sentence down to just verbs and nouns. Every sentence. Of every paragraph. On every page in an entire chapter!

Over the past few years, I have occasionally tried to work on my wordiness. But the reasons for it are still there, so it's very difficult. Today I attempted to email my family a humorous response to a mundane email. But I realized that they might take me seriously, so then I had to describe the extenuating circumstances. Then I realized that my email wasn't the least bit humorous anymore, regardless of the smiley face after the first sentence. So I deleted all of my explanation, and just sent off the original "funny" part. A response came back that humorously pointed out a problem of what I had said. I immediately felt dumb for having deleting my explanation, so I emailed my explanation to her at that point. At the end of the email, I wrote the words: "I'm so frustrated with my need to over-explain everything!". But once again, I thought this might be confusing, so I deleted that sentence and sent the email.

Then I began this long diatribe that single sentence inspired in me.

Crap! I've over-explained my over-explainy-ness! Here's a fun game: print this out and cross out every extraneous word used that could have been left out. What, that doesn't sound fun to you?

*I think this may have something to do with my synesthesia, a neurological oddity where you senses get crossed together. I have "visual motion -> sound synesthesia", meaning I hear sounds when I see motion. Some people have a form called "ordinal linguistic personification", where words, letters, or numbers have "personalities". The way I hear a cadence in my head as I write is in part a sound, but also a "feeling" that is almost tactile.

Contribution cross-post with The Gay Atheist:

The Christian Science Monitor: A fair news source?

There were some interesting (and disappointing) rulings from the U.S. Supreme Court today, which had me searching for more information on specifics that were not supplied by CNN. In a Google News search, I was lead to the Christian Science Monitor to read about the SCOTUS decision that gave the Westboro Baptist Church a win today. I must say, I was pleasantly surprised.

When I was half-way through the article with my anger growing over the stance of SCOTUS, I noticed a beautiful picture in the sidebar. It was part of the CS Monitor's "Picture of the Day" feature. You really should see it, so I'll try and direct-link it here (big blogging faux-pas, but hopefully they'll forgive me this one transgression):



The image is from the opening ceremony of the Asian Youth Games, but that's not really relevant right now. What is relevant is how this changed my thought process - I was getting angry, angry at the news, and a visual of more happy news elsewhere in the world was a kind of relief. It had a balancing, calming effect on me, kind of reinforcing my natural opinion that there is much good in the world despite all of our human atrocities.

Thinking this, I finished reading the article. A very fair, non-judgemental presentation of the facts of the case. Wait a minute! Isn't this the Christian Science Monitor, tabloid of those whacked-out Christian Scientists who don't take their sick kids to doctors. I had to learn more, and again, I was pleasantly surprised. In their own words:

The Monitor is recognized for its balanced, insightful take on the news, and for the fresh, independent voice it offers.

They state that they've won multiple Pulitzer Prizes for their thorough investigative journalism, that they have staff and non-staff correspondents all over the world, and that non-Christian Scientists word side-by-side with members of the church. Despite having the backing of the Christian Science church, they make assurances that their journalistic integrity is just as important to them as their faith, and that while the Church has oversight, they rarely use their editorial control to change anything submitted for print. As evidence of their impartiality and independence, they relate the story of the paper's founding by Mary Baker Eddy as a direct result of a malicious campaign, both in court and in print, by Joseph Pulitzer at the New York World.

There are quite a lot of interesting tidbits on their about page, this one I being my favorite:

Eddy received a long letter from a local journalist and Christian Scientist, John L. Wright. In it, he told her he felt there was a growing need for a daily newspaper that 'will place principle before dividends, and that will be fair, frank and honest with the people on all subjects and under whatever pressure' - a truly independent voice not controlled by 'commercial and political monopolists.'

I have to say, I found all of this information very shocking because in my experience, fair and unbiased reporting is an oxymoron with religion. I would use my favorite whipping boy, Fox News, as an example of this, but they apparently aren't aware of this case: nowhere in their reporting of the Supreme Court rulings today is their any mention of the Westboro case, and in an article from yesterday summarizing the cases that were about to be decided (and those that SCOTUS will hear this Fall), the case is conspicuously left out.

My shock over the idea of conservative Christians being able to report the news without bias quickly led to skepticism, so I popped over to Wikipedia. There was more enlightening information there, both on the Monitor, and Christian Science itself. Basically everything that the Monitor had claimed about their practices was supported in the Wikipedia article*, which included the following quote from two separate journalistic sources:

The paper has been known for avoiding sensationalism, producing a "distinctive brand of nonhysterical journalism".

As for Christian Science itself, I think I will have to reevaluate my opinion of them as being conservative. Despite the odd belief about the healing power of prayer, it seems to be a very accepting, humble, and positive religion. But that discussion is for another day.

As I wrap this up, I have to admit that I am very impressed with the integrity and commitment of the Christian Science Monitor. I have long been dissatisfied with the gaping holes in CNN's reporting, especially of international news. I have decided to make the CS Monitor my first news source for the short-term. Being a skeptic at heart, I am not 100% convinced that they are 100% unbiased, but open-mindedness is also dear to my heart, so I've decided to take a chance on a test-drive. All new relationships deserve a trial period to test for compatibility, right?

Yes, I am very aware of the current atmosphere to distrust Wikipedia as an impartial source. But I also know that Wikipedia is aware of the problems there, and are committed to policing bad reporting in their database. I feel confident that Wikipedia is still the best source for all types of background information and facts reported in a concise manner at a single source.