Today I took my daughter out for our Monday of Fun.
We went to a local outdoor shopping mall where we bought new clothes and splashed around in the water. After we were all shopped out, we headed for lunch at a new diner around the corner.
When our waiter had finished taking our order, a woman started walking towards us. She had her hair pulled back tightly, very little make up on and was significantly overweight (about the exact size that I am.) As she got closer, my daughter looked up from her plate of Mac and cheese, pointed at her and said “Look at the lady, Mom.”
“I see her.” I said, a little bit nervous as to what she would say next (because one time? When my son was 3? He pointed out an overweight woman and said “Mom, how come that lady is so fat?” in a voice so loud that everyone in the immediate area turned their head and looked at us. STILL traumatized by that.)
Then, my daughter looked right at me and said “She’s so beautiful, Mommy!!”
Relieved, I smiled and said “You’re right. She is beautiful, Mija.”
Then, she took another bite of her macroni and cheese and said “just like you, Mommy.“
Pictures While You Wait for Answers.
Today is my one day a week off, so I’ll be heading out for some time with My Girl. I thought I’d post some of my (favorite) most recent pictures since there are some of you out there who actually enjoy my photos and have asked that I post more. (Which, I can’t lie, kind of made me feel good about myself, so, thank you.)
Thanks for playing along with the “ask me a question” game. I will be answering them during the week.
This post has not been edited because if I go back and read it I will delete it like all the other ones before it.
I’ve been struggling with what to do about this blog.
Today, I was tempted to delete it. I was very Soap Opera Serious about it too. I feel like this.. why keep it up when I can’t seem to be able to translate my thoughts into words? I see it sitting here, with the same post up for a week and I’m literally unable to type the thoughts and stories that have collected in my brain for the past 7 days.
However, I know that if I were to delete or to make some dramatic statement such as “I’M QUITTING BLOGGING!” that I’ll regret it the second I did it. If only because I love to have this place to write WHEN the mood strikes (which obviously isn’t very often these days.)
Writing has always come easily (naturally?) to me. And please don’t misinterpret that to mean that “I am a naturally a good writer.” I know that I am not a good writer. And please don’t misinterpret THAT to mean “I am a horrible, awful writer and am stupid and I should just go ahead and kill myself now!” What I mean is that it’s something I love to do (in the same way that I love to hear myself talk), even THOUGH I know that I’m not incredibly good at it and although I have gone through periods of “writers block” I don’t ever recall feeling as though “I will never be able to do this again!!”
But that’s how I feel right at this moment. I am trying not to give it too much weight, because I realize that for the most part, the reason that I’m having a hard time with this whole writing thing is because of the low thyroid (Ha! You thought I was going to get through an entire post without saying it! YOU LOSE!) At the same time, I can’t help but wonder if after almost 6 years is simply long enough and it’s time to move on.
(Am I really having a “blogging crisis” or am I fabricating this to BOOST MY RATINGS!? Troll sez: RATINGS PLOY!)
(Clearly, I am not ready to let that go yet, if only because it’s my second most favorite insult on ever written on this blog, the first being “WINNERS DO THE MATH!”)
Please don’t leave comments asking me not to quit. If you do, I will virtually hold my finger up to your mouth and say “SHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH.” This isn’t something I need to be talked out. It’s just me, thinking out loud and trying to break this writing funk that I am in. The truth is that I don’t think I could ever delete this blog. There are too many stories that I want to remember and deleting it would be like deleting a tiny little piece of my soul. (See! I told you! Soap Opera Serious!) However, if I don’t have some kind of mental break through in which I am once again able to sit down and write about my life (AND NOT ABOUT MY THYROID.) I may have to walk away for a bit.
Here is where I ask for your help.
Dear You,
Ask me a question.
In doing so, you may help to unlock my brain and save me from this Blogpression. (Oh YES I DID.)
Love,
Me
p.s. if I get a lot of questions, there’s a very good chance that I won’t be able to answer every single one. And it won’t mean I didn’t like your question or that I’m an asshole. It’ll just mean that I’m overwhelmed, so please don’t take it personally.
p.s.s. I’m kind of hoping that someone will ask me about my thoughts on Mary Hart, because ever since watching a clip of her and Marie Osmond on youtube I can’t seem to get her fake laugh out of my head and I may have gone so far as to google “Mary Hart is annoying” to see if the internet feels the same way about her as I do.
I look forward to your questions.
UPDATE**
Woah, that’s a lot of questions! No more questions necessary as I am pretty sure I’ll be answering questions for the next 3 months. THANK YOU!
“You better be careful! They’re going to get stuck like that and stay that way forever!”
Having worked with children for my entire adult life, I knew the instant they told me the third child I was carrying in my womb was a “girl” that I would have to prepare myself for The Rolling of the Eyes. I would tell my husband things like “but little girls they roll their eyes when they’re mad! And! They sigh heavily while they’re rolling their eyes! And! When they do that, it makes me so angry inside that I want to pinch their legs!” And my husband would just laugh and say things like “But you’ll feel differently about it when your daughter does it, because you’ll love her!” And I would say “I don’t think so! I’ll still want to pinch her legs because I HATE EYE ROLLING THAT MUCH!”
I thought I would have plenty of time to prepare for the eye rolling, or at the very least, until lkindergarten. I never, ever in my wildest dreams thought that I would be confronted with The Rolling of the Eyes at the precious wittle age of THREE. But, that daughter of mine, she’s always one step ahead of the game, I tell ya.
You see, last week I walked into my bedroom to find my daughter’s face covered (YET AGAIN) in my makeup. OF COURSE, I had to grab my camera to capture the moment and as I started snapping away, she let out a huge sigh, ROLLED HER EYES and said “why you always have to take my picture, Mooooom?”
It completely caught me off guard, but, surprisingly, I did not want to pinch her leg! Infact, I wanted to kiss her all over and tell her that she is the funniest little girl I have ever known. However, I refrained because I KNOW that it won’t be funny when she pulls that shit at 13.
Why I Didn’t Eat Dinner Tonight and Why I’m Probably Going to Give Up Eating Entirely
July 2006 (after having lost 70-ish pounds following the birth of my 3rd child)
April 2008 (4 months after finally being diagnosed with Hashimotos, even though I told my doctor and anyone who would listen to me that there was something wrong with my thyroid a year and a half ago.)
I can’t even begin to express how frightening that number is to me, nor can I express how depressed I am after doing a little research on “how to lose weight with Hashimoto’s.”
If the whole low thyroid thing doesn’t kill me, this weight most certainly will. Knowing how hard it’s going to be to lose it, knowing that I have to be careful not to “stress” my body during workouts, knowing that I can continue to gain weight on as little as 800 calories a day is almost too depressing to wrap my brain around. Losing weight is no longer about how my butt looks in those jeans, or about feeling ashamed to see people I know because I have 3 chins. It’s about not developing heart disease (already have some “irregularities”). It’s about not getting diabetes. It’s about not dying. Overly dramatic? Probably, but it feels THAT SERIOUS. I can’t imagine that carrying around an extra 100 pounds isn’t taking a drastic toll on my body.
I’m genuinely scared for my health. I’m frustrated at how quickly the weight is piling on.
Quite a few people told me that I once I started taking my medication, the weight would come off. That gave me hope, because I had been unable to lose weight for months. Fast forward to 4 months after taking my first dose of levothr*id… I am now 13 pounds heavier.
Insanity.
I’m tempted to throw my obese arms up in the air and say TO HELL WITH IT! IT’S NO USE! WHY EVEN TRY! But, I don’t want to give up on myself. However, at the moment I feel overwhelmed by the severity of the situation.
‘Cause I gotta have faith faith faith I gotta have faaaaaith.
For the past two weeks I have been barely been able to function. I slept the entire weekend away (4 hour nap on Friday and Saturday, 5 hour nap on Sunday.) and I still woke up on Monday morning feeling like I hadn’t slept in days. The strange thing is that I started taking my new (higher) dose of medication a week ago and instead of feeling better, I was feeling worse.
UNTIL TODAY.
Today is the first day in two weeks that I don’t feel extremely tired. It’s the first day where I have laughed at things I’ve read (as opposed to sitting here like a zombie reading words but truly unable to process what I was reading.) It’s the first day that I actually saw the dirty floor and did something about it! Because I had the motivation and the energy to actually plug in the vacuum! I am so excited about this that there very well maybe tears streaming down my face as I have one fist held high in the hair while listening to “It’s a Beautiful Day” by U2.
These past few days have been awful. I’ve cried more times than I care to admit. My frustration level with this entire ASSHOLE THYROID (Not to be confused with an actual asshole IN my thyroid, Jenn-ay) has reached an all time high. I am willing to accept that it takes time to get my “levels” just right and all of that but HOLY PREMATURE HEARTBEAT, I’ve been dealing with this for over a year now. I would just like to feel semi-normal again. Look! I’m not even asking to be completely normal again! I’ll settle for SEMI normal!
Honestly, I just want to be able to clean my house without it feeling so overwhelming. I just want to be able to go to the gym and not fall of the elliptical because whoops! My knees buckled again! I just want My Horny back.
Last night, my Dad came over for a little unexpected visit (HATE THOSE!) I had just woke up from one of my naps and he could tell I wasn’t feeling well.
I began to tell him how frustrated I was because they increased my medication but I wasn’t getting any better blahblahblah thyroid blahblahblah tired.
“Do you know what it says in Isaiah 53, Mija?”
“No. I don’t know.” I said (which, TOTALLY should know. I spent the entire first 25 years of my life in church.I blame my thyroid! It makes me forget things!)
“It says ‘Surely He has borne our griefs and carried our sorrows; yet we esteemed Him stricken, smitten by God, and afflicted. But He was wounded for our transgressions, He was bruised for our iniquities; the chastisement for our peace was upon Him, and by His stripes we are healed’ not MAYBE healed, it says we ARE healed. You just need to have faith, Mija. Faith that God has healed you. Believe that he has healed you!”
“But Dad! You don’t understand. My body is killing my thyroid! It’s not going to magically get better! I need medication! For the rest of my life!”
He just smiled and shook his head softly. “Let me pray for you. Will you let me pray for you?”
I agreed to let him pray for me, but the entire time he was praying, I was kind of rolling my eyes because HE DOESN’T GET IT! God isn’t a magician!
But as he was praying, asking God to heal me, asking God to reveal himself to me, to give me faith to believe, I stopped rolling my eyes and began to really listen to what he was saying. And in that moment, I actually envied my Dad. I envied his ability to trust in God and his promises. It’s easy to roll my eyes and dismiss people who have faith, but how wonderful would it be to live life trusting that God will heal you, will take care of your needs? I think there are people who go overboard with the whole “having faith in God thing.” You know, the people who refuse to seek medical care for their sick children because “God will heal them.” I think that’s utter bullshit. However, I also think there is a healthy balance of having faith in God (or a higher power) while doing your part to take care of yourself (seeking medical care/taking medication.)
I don’t know that I’ve ever truly had faith in God. I’ve believe in God, but is believing in God and having faith in God the same thing? Can you believe that God exists and yet not fully trust that he’ll heal you/provide for you?
I want to have that kind of faith and I suppose there’s no magical way of obtaining faith, you just have to like, believe right? HOW DOES THAT WORK? How do you say to yourself “I have faith that I am healed!” and believe it? And if you have faith that God can heal/already has healed you, does that mean you don’t go back in 4 weeks to get your blood tested because “I have faith that I’m healed!” Or, if you do go back to get your blood tested and you find out that you’re NOT healed, does that mean you didn’t actually have faith? Or does that mean that you’re the one person Jesus DOESN’T love? I’m pretty sure that faith is supposed to be this beautiful,simple thing, but to me, it’s the second most complicated thing for me to understand (eternity being the first. Really? FOREVER AND EVER AND EVER AND EVER HAPPY WITH JESUS? That scares me a lot.)
Perhaps it is time that I start going back to church to explore these things because I’m not sure this is something The Internet can solve for me. (See, there I go not having faith again.)
Photography Keeps Me Sane, Gives Me Hope For a Healthy Future and Reminds Me That Life is Wonderful Even When it Doesn’t Feel so Good.
Did you hear that? I think it was the sound of my ratings dropping.
My lack of updating has nothing to do with the whole “fraud” thing and everything to do with this whole “thyroid” thing.
Things took a turn for the worse since returning from NYC and I practically got on my knees and begged the endocrinologist to increase my medication, but he refused because my levels were “completely in the normal range” except, he retested me and ” haha WHOOPS! You were right! You DO need more medication!” I knew it because for the past week I’ve barely been able to function. Tony’s sick of hearing it. My kids are sick of hearing it. I’m pretty sure everyone in my entire life is sick of hearing it, but you know what? I’m fucking sick of living it, so we’re even.
I don’t really mean that. I am very concerned about how this is affecting my relationship with my husband. He told me last night he “doesn’t know what to do for me anymore.” I’m not asking him to do anything but be patient with me (as things aren’t getting done around the house the way they should be.) but I can understand why he said that. I’m no party to live with right now. (I know that’s hard to believe based on these exciting! and beautifully written posts.)
So, anyway, that’s where I’m at right now and pretty much where I’ve been for what, the last year?
Shit.
Because it’s probably going to be a while until I can write anything worth reading anytime soon…
Not a Photographer
I have posted most of my photos from NYC on flickr, I have a few more to post, but not many more. I am really disappointed with the pictures that I took. I was too busy socializing (BEER PONG!!) and lost sight of my goal to dedicate at least one day to photograph the city.
I did get a few shots that I love, but my absolute favorite is one that I didn’t take.
Meeting Rich was most definitely the highlight of my trip, he’s seriously THAT awesome.
Here are a few shots that I took, sadly, these are as good as they get.
(You can see the rest of the photos HERE)