India Journey: Part 1

Namaste. Meera naam Amanda hai. 

I've been working on my Hindi since leaving Kansas City 24 hours ago. I only remember that and thank you...no I don't I forgot that one. Dangit. 

Anyway, in that 24 hours I've only made it to New Jersey.

I had a window seat leaving KC and I was so happy. Myself and the children on the plane were the only ones fixated to the plastic window. I just can't think that watching the world from that high up could ever get tiring!

I arrived at Newark airport with a 7 hour layover so I was prepared to kill that much time messing around on my phone, reading and watching Netflix. Unfortunately for me, this airport does not offer free wifi so I am quite limited on what I can actually do on my phone. That includes updating my friends and family, which was unexpected and frustrating. And let's be real, I KNOW there's good Pokéstops here and I can't even access them or hatch any Poké eggs with all this walking. 

Time creeps on and on and it's raining and dreary here in New Jersey. At least 2 flights ended up cancelled so there were hundreds of misplaced people scrambling for a way out of here. Poor suckers. 

This airport, I told Palmer, is like a mall that happens to have airplanes come by. (update, the more I traveled the more I found that is actually normal. I had only really seen MCI over the years and I see now how sad it is compared to the other "fancy" airports around the world!) Fancy restaurants and high end looking shops are up and down every corridor. 

Fancy places like this:

   

Selling stuff like this:

Fancy. 

That is a LOT of booze.

I spent time in the book store writing down titles of books I planned to see if I could get via e-reader or Audiobook, had a beer and just wandered. Eventually I had 2 hours left and nothing else to do but read. Reading made me sleepy and I couldn't sleep in the airport well so I tried to keep getting things on my phone to work. An Indian family was waiting next to me. I noticed the little boy playing Pokémon Go and opened it up to see if mine would work. It barely did and I was jealous that this boy had 100 times better wifi than me. Who does he think he is. And he doesn't even know how good he has it. I did get it to work and I excitedly leaned over to him. "Did you get the Tauros?!"

"Yeah! With a regular Pokéball!"

"What?! I had to use a raspberry and a super Pokéball! Good job!"

Then I talked to his parents for a while about Pokemon and traveling. They were taking their two kids to India to see their grandparents who they hadn't seen in 5 years. They're from San Francisco. The little boy kept interjecting comments about Pokemon and scolding his dad for talking too loud and messing up his Pokéball toss (which is not a thing, little boy, calm down). 

I told them where I was going and what I was doing. Each time I tell people they are so kind about it. I still feel like what I'm doing is selfish in some ways. I can't explain it, I guess I know I'm doing this for me and that feels selfish. But people are always encouraging and complimentary which is really nice. 

In explaining what I'm doing I also realize each time that I really don't know what I'm doing. I like that and that really makes no sense. It's what makes me know I'm in it for the experience, I suppose. 

We can finally board, an hour and a half later than expected because of weather. I'm seated next to a man in the exit row. I welcomed the leg room but also kind of panicked because we were asked twice whether we could handle the responsibility of opening the emergency exit door in case of an unlikely event. Can I?! I don't know! When sh*ts going down can I be trusted? Yeah because I want this legroom. 

It takes a long time to get going. We begin the safety video which, my word, was awful. It was bad actors reenacting something combining The Hunger Games and the Olympics. 

"Make sure you put your carry on under the seat!" as a soccer player rolls his ball under the seat.

"Put your oxygen mask on and then help your neighbor!" as one basketball player helps himself and then helps his teammate who is too busy spinning basketballs on his fingers Globetrotter style to save his own life.

Track runners take off running and a hand drawn cloud of dust is left. "*Cough* *cough* *smile* Smoking is not permitted! And don't tamper with the smoke detectors in the bathrooms!"

It was ridiculous guys. And we were forced to watch it. 

Almost an hour later 4 people come scrambling onto the plane. The director of the plane's intercom (I forgot his actual title but that's literally all he did) came on and said something like, "You may have noticed some extra passengers joining us. Due to federal regulations it's required all passengers watch the safety video so we have to play that again."

....he wasn't joking. And also, how embarrassing to be those guys. 

An hour goes by and the director of the intercom comes on telling us there is a problem with the fuel sensor and they've been unable to fix it. Maintenance is coming out to take a look.

The man next to me and I begin chatting about where we're going, why, where we're from and so on. 

He's from the mountains of North Carolina and he teaches people how to write patents. He flies out to India pretty often and knows the ropes. Before I can really talk to him more about what to expect, a flight attendant came huffing back to the backwards facing seat reserved for attendants and plopped down. He looks at us and says, "Well, airport security is going to have to arrest somebody." He mumbles and grumbles and says something about someone smoking in the bathroom. Then he pulls out his phone and shows us a picture of charred paper towels in the airplane's trash can. 

"Oh my gosh, that could have been a fire!"

"I'm surprised you didn't smell it."

"No I'm thankful I don't. Which bathroom was it?"

He points to the bathroom caddy corner from me, 4 seats away. I'm surprised I didn't notice but I had been listening to Anna Faris interview Chelsea Handler on very, very little sleep so I wasn't paying a lot of attention to anything. 

"Will she just be escorted off or arrested?" I ask the man next to me. He tells me she'll probably be arrested because it's a federal offense. He told me about a plane that crashed in Indiana in the early 80's because someone was smoking and caused a fire. It makes me glad they take that seriously because I don't have time to die today. 

Very shortly after that the director of the intercom says unfortunately they cannot fix the problem and the flight is officially cancelled. He also says to stay in our seats because law enforcement are coming on board to arrest someone.

Oh snap. Glad it's not me because I also don't have time to go to jail today.

So we all begrudgingly pack up our things and file off the plane. We are directed to customer service where I stand in this line for ANOTHER HOUR so I can get a new boarding pass and meal vouchers. (Remember those poor suckers I referenced earlier? Karma.)

The waiting line to Hell.

 We discover that:

 1) we've been automatically rebooked for the next flight. Which is at 5:40PM THE NEXT DAY (technically that day). That's 14 hours later, folks. 

2) They will not pay for a hotel because 

3) there ARE NO hotels. None that are open or close.

4) They WILL pay up to $200 for a taxi which would get you to New York but you have to pay for your trip back. 

5) They will provide a meal voucher but only for $30 (I was initially told $60 by another passenger so $30 pissed me off). 

I was relieved when I heard they were providing those though because it was $30 for a sandwich and a beer. I was not about to eat another meal there. I had chocolate popcorn for sustenance.

$30 and it was just okay. 

I get through the line and wander around looking for a place to sleep. I propped myself into a chair with my neck pillow and a complimentary paper blanket (it's not that bad but not good either) and tried to fall asleep. There was a television blaring CNN news above me and my legs were going to sleep from the angle they had to rest at. I put my earplugs in. CNN started talking about babies born with Zika and I snapped out of the chair and beelined my way somewhere else. 

I found a couple who had moved rows of chairs to create a barricade and decided those seats might be better because my feet could reach the opposite seats. 

Wrong. My legs either locked or my lower back was unsupported so  sleep wasn't happening. I plopped my backpack on the floor as a pillow and laid on the floor. It smelled like pee and it was cold but I just didn't care anymore. 

I woke up and was so pleased I killed some time. It had only been an hour and a half! I was a zombie and saw new people around me so I packed up and with eyes glazed over wandered to a new spot. 

I was back at the gate where I had spent hours and hours earlier and under the telephone booth was clean and had a shaded spot where my eyes would be covered from the light. I power walked back to customer service where they were giving out blankets and pillows (I had opted out earlier because I took a blanket from the plane). The plastic wrapping that held all of the bedding was all that was left. However, there were extra disposable pillow cases. I walked past everyone in line, grabbed those, noticed everyone looking at me peculiarly and just wanted to flip them off because I was so exhausted. 

"No offense, but *middle finger*. Happy travels."

I didn't say that. I power walked back to my chosen spot, laid the pillow cases down, put in ear plugs to drown out the electronic reminder to not accept bags from strangers and tried to sleep. 

Sweet dreams.

I slept on and off for 4 hours. I woke up to strangers sitting in chairs like normal people and I picked up my trash bed and wandered aimlessly trying to find coffee and a bathroom. I found a place to use 2/3 of my voucher and the food wasn't good but I had access to a charger so I called and talked to Palmer. 

So far, I haven't left the country yet and my trip is quite adventurous. I'm functioning on roughly 7 hours of sleep over the past almost 48, but I'm really not complaining about that. I'm truly happy to be here. And also I have a 13 hour flight I can sleep on. Hopefully. 

Chicken & Black Bean Casserole

Cheese necessary. More cheese optional.

Chicken & Black Bean Casserole

2/3 cup wild rice

1 cup chicken broth*

1 T olive oil

1/3 cup diced onion

2 medium zuchinni, thinly sliced

3 boneless, skinless chicken breasts

1/2 cup sliced mushrooms (optional) 

1/2 teaspoon cumin

salt to taste

1 (15oz) can of black beans, rinsed

1 (4oz) can green chilies

1-2 cups cheddar cheese

*you may need to adjust according to the type of rice you use. I use bullion paste to make broth so I ended up with roughly one cup of broth and a half cup of water to cook the 2/3 cup of rice in. 

** I also had a can of chipotle & sweet corn that I used so I omitted the chilies and cumin since the corn blend had spices in it already. The beauty of recipes is that they're typically "suggestions" and you can make as many changes as you want! 

Mix the rice and broth in a pot and bring to a boil . Reduce heat to low, cover and simmer for 45 minutes or until rice is tender. (Or follow your rice's packaged directions, I only needed to simmer mine for about 15 minutes.)

Preheat over to 350 degrees. Lightly grease a 9 x 13" casserole dish. 

Heat the olive oil in a skillet over medium heat and cook the chicken until cooked through. Add onion, mushrooms and zucchini (I also added bell pepper because why not)and cook until tender. Season with cumin and salt.

In a large bowl, mix cooked rice, onion, zucchini, chicken, mushrooms, beans, chilies and half of the cheese. Transfer to casserole dish. 

Cover casserole loosely with foil and bake for 30 minutes. Uncover and add remaining cheese. Continue baking for 10 minutes. 

Done!

Running and Flying

I knew something was changing. I could feel it. It first felt like something trying to escape. And my life was a whirlwind of change so I couldn't afford the effort to peer into myself and investigate what was happening. My depression and insecurities also took hold and held me frozen in place.

I wrote my last post on my way out of the pit, as I called it. I was recovering, catching my breath again, and it was on the way out that I could feel it. All the change around me wasn't just around me-it was within. That was new. I have always taken the backseat, or the sidecar, or the support beam and held tight to enforce the change around me.  And that's where I wanted to be, I don't regret that at all. But when was the last time it was me that took the step into the unknown? On my own? I suppose it was when I went to college and spent a lot of money so I could explore who I was and fail all of my classes in the meantime (except English because I embraced any chance I had to write). 10 years since then has held a lot of hills and valleys and growth and even wisdom (the kind that comes from realizing you were never grown up and not right about everything).

So, a few weeks ago I stood at the edge of the pit, glanced behind me and charged forward. I looked into jobs, I made a list of volunteer opportunities in my community and necessary childcare. In meditation I went over everything I wanted to do. I needed to do. I picked apart who I am and where I've been and where I want to be and where I need to be.

"Run toward broken heartedness, not away. Run towards the things that break your heart." - G

I mentioned this in my last post, but back in February I saw Glennon Doyle Melton speak and that has played on a loop since she said it. It took a few months for me to find what that meant for me. On a "me" level, broken heartedness is risking my safety ("safety" as in the safety and comfort of solitude) and connecting with people. It's also risking my anxiety and placing myself around people who I can and need to connect with.
On a level outside of "me", it's those that can't help themselves in a situation where they need help. Specifically children, animals and the environment.

Run toward the things that break my heart. Here we go.

I began reaching out to friends for help pointing me in a direction for out of state volunteer work. That led to me researching overseas volunteer opportunities. In my heart on the back burner was not only traveling but taking part in the world around me. And then I found it.

Next month, on July 18th, I will be traveling to India to help an organization teach children in the slums of Delhi. 

I see a therapist, who I love, and I pick apart my mind and feelings and functions with her. I spent almost the entire hour talking about this decision. In talking about it, I told her how I felt inside my metaphorical pit and then how I found myself far away from myself, in a place and world unlike anything I have ever experienced. India. A place I've dreamed of visiting, a culture I've been infatuated with and it's people those I feel a pull to.
I hadn't even processed my reasons that led me to my decision until I said them out loud to her. As I finished my thought, I sat there contemplating it, smiling. Her eyes beamed back at me. I knew all the reasons why, and I knew why now, but the fact that it was my subconscious response to my depression (middle finger, depression!) was fascinating.

That night I had my first dream where I was flying. Palmer has dreams where he's flying ALL THE DING DANG DONG TIME and I'm always so jealous. The way he describes it sounds incredible. And that night I got to fly.

Only a few people know about my going to India, and some of them have asked with much enthusiasm, "Are you excited?!"
Excited is definitely not the word. I'm thankful I have this opportunity. I'm grateful for my husband who is helping me make it financially possible. I'm preparing emotionally for a journey that will break my heart. I'm becoming increasingly anxious over whether I can really afford to do this (I can't, but like I said, we'll make it happen somehow). I'm embracing this moment to rise to, to fly, and I think I will come back forever changed. I hope to.

"They are no longer the same because I myself am no longer the same. India always changes people and I have been no exception." - Ruth Prawler Jhabvala

"You cannot find peace by avoiding life."

I wrote on Instagram last night a little tidbit about how I found a love and beauty in gardening 2 years ago. The idea of gardening always seemed so dreamy to me. I grew up surrounded by elaborate pools of flower gardens around my parents house and spacious backyard. And then when I was older my mom grew and tended a dozen different vegetables. The size of her vegetable garden was the size of some people's kitchens. I took it for granted, but I was a kid so I'm given a bit of slack for not seeing that not everyone had that luxury.

When my husband and I bought our first home it had a massive, long backyard that had been a graveled and somewhat detailed meandering garden. The homeowners let it die and moved out. I had high hopes of revitalizing it. I planted and killed 4 vegetables. It was impossible to mow the grass growing through the gravel and expensive to lay down more rocks and even more expensive to remove the rocks and put down a yard. So I gave up and declared I hated yardwork - especially gardening because I killed things.

2 years ago though I decided I really didn't want to be the neighbor with the eyesore of a yard. (That was definitely us with the ownership of that first house. Sorry, neighbors. We see the error of our ways now.) It was hours of work and a wicked sunburn that made me sick but I did it. 2 flowering bushes, 4 types of flowers and 2 types of vegetables. And it all LIVED! Last year and this year I've watched the plants die and come back, bigger and stronger and more beautiful.

_____________________________________________

This season has been one of deep change and uprooting for me. I've been surviving through terribly dark throes of depression and anger and sadness. And though a lot of it, maybe most of it, is happening externally in the world around me, I actually feel a great deal of the depth of change is in me.

I mentioned in my last post that I've been clinging onto the edge of a pit, gasping for breath and reassuring everyone around me I'm fine before I lose my hold and fall back in. In the pit I spent a few weeks not doing anything. Not seeing anyone or speaking to anyone, putting the kids to bed and then going to bed myself. Another few weeks was spent not really speaking to my husband. In all of those weeks I'm a ghost trying to find my place in this life that's morphing around me. My friends are moving and changing into different roles of their own, my husband is starting a business which our income will solely rely on, my church, whose close knit community is one I've found so much peace and love in, is closing its doors and the rest of the plans for our lives are completely open ended.

I like the open ended.

For these ends to be open as they are while I feel I'm either fading away or my spirit is pouring out of my seams is something I can't exactly explain to anyone and them not think me insane. 

Years ago I watched The Hours and I took in every second of beauty and heartbreak and breathed it. I had never, and have never, watched something I felt was such a reflection of myself before. I bought it on DVD and didn't watch it again until last week, almost 11 years later. I watched it with my husband and I described a scene that has always stuck with me. A woman lays on a bed, ready to kill herself in a hopeless moment and water rises around her, swallowing her.

I have never related so deeply to a feeling. My depression has always felt like water I'm treading that I can't muster the energy to keep treading. It gets heavier until I can't breathe and the ideas of the depth of those waves sound so peaceful.

My husband finished the movie and was struck by everything that had captured me years and years ago.

It was about two weeks later that we got into an intense argument about my living in this state of nothing. He told me he saw all three of the women in The Hours as one person; me. I would be lying if I said I didn't feel a sense of thankfulness for feeling so understood but also a great deal of self loathing for tying him to a person like myself.

I've been struggling because I feel so ready to leap out into my own adventure instead of solely supporting the adventures and ambitions of those around me. I have felt resentful of my husband (off and on) for about a year now because I have felt I have lived in his shadow for a very long time which is where I wanted to be; supporting and encouraging in the background with our kids. But the more I find I'm frustrated in the background, the more I long to get out of the shadow, the more sure I am that the timing of my feelings is all wrong. Or it's the voice of that darkness telling me so. Regardless, it's convincing and it makes me feel trapped.

I don't want to be where I am right now. I'm ready to see what I really can be because here, gripping to the edge of my pit, I know I was meant for something great. Raising my beautiful children to be flourishing and compassionate adults isn't my only purpose and being the constant cheerleader to my artistic and amazingly intelligent husband isn't my only purpose. Knowing how to crack the right jokes at the best times to make everyone around me laugh isn't the only thing I know I can do.

But what is?!

Trying to hone in on passions and not blow our precious income trying to find it and meeting my 3 children's needs while also trying to even recognize my own and juggling the ideas of full time work and childcare and the unschooling homeschooling dreams I've had is really...too much. And then I'm back to being the ghost, frustrated with myself and resentful of those around me finding and succeeding in their goals and dreams and also feeling like a piece of shit for not just freaking enjoying my time at home with my kids. What a terrible mom I am. 

I brought up my wanting to find work outside of the home to a few people. The first person (a therapist I don't see anymore) suggested I find some mom groups to plug into. The next person suggested I really weigh the cost of childcare. The next person kept adding, "well, when Atticus is older," either not listening to me or truly not realizing I mean, "I WANT TO FIND WORK OUTSIDE OF THE HOME." The last person listened to me and supported my feelings. I didn't need anyone to say how wonderful my ambition was, but it certainly was welcomed. And my sweet, wonderful husband has encouraged me from the beginning.

My husband had to spend 2 full days at home with them while I worked helping a friend run a wedding event. At the end of the second day he said, "We have got to get you out of here. I don't know how you do this."

Thanks, babe. I mean it. Being their mother is the number one thing I want to be. But there are other things I can be as well. I want to be them. I just need to find them. 

And as I raise my kids, I want to raise them to know what they can be. That they were always and will always be my priority

 It feels almost grandiose to say, but this change, as painful and dark and suffocating and out of control as it feels, I might dare to say is more of a metamorphosis than just a turn of the page.

______________________________________

As I was working in my garden, digging into earth that had been unkept and forgotten, I stood back and felt joy. Gratitude that I could do something seemingly so insignificant and too close to matter but knowing with my hands I changed and grew something that's getting more mature and beautiful each year.

I hope I see that in myself too.

Valley of the Shadow

This post has been sitting here as a draft for almost 8 weeks. It feels so freaking whiny and angstly. It reads like my emo Xanga did in 2003. But I find I just have to share it.

These last several months have been very difficult and my depression has been darker than it has been in a very long time.
I keep finding myself in this pit of darkness, so dark I can't even find words to define myself or my surroundings, and then come out of it, gasping for breath and unable to write about it. And then I find I've fallen back in. And I climb out. And fall in. Over and over in the last few months. I think it's my survival mechanism; how I get through stress and fear and hurt. Don't feel it. But the living, most rational part of me doesn't want to live in that pit and wants to be the strong, bad ass bitch that can do it.

But damnit, I can't.

This darkness is familiar. It's that unwelcome companion that sits down next to you knowing it has your full attention until it decides to let go. 

I know why it's here and I know why I keep falling in but for the first time in a really long time I really can't stop it.

This chapter in our life is beginning with a terrifying uncertainty that is scaring me to death. I'm trapped in a dozen situations out of my control. I feel like I'm blindly scouring over every surface of my life looking for something to take hold of that I can help or fix or find security in. Left with nothing, I feel like I'm floundering for purpose in my own life and subsequently losing sight of my worth.

My husband and I have been talking out these complicated emotions and plans over the past couple of months. Sometimes that helps and sometimes it just places a cross hair on my fears so I can't see anything else. I've also been researching potential jobs, trying to get back into writing and painting and doing things artistic; hoping to spark something. Young kids make that very difficult. As is, you know, not even thinking you can do it.
This blog is my only "artistic" outlet right now because it's fairly easy to find 30 minutes to an hour here or there to write how I feel. But keeping an online diary is a little...millenial, right? Juvenile? And then that dark companion's voice jumps in with all kinds of convincing reasons I'm wasting my time here.

 I've been overweight, working my literal ass off everyday, never exceeding 1600 calories and burning 130-400 calories per workout and I haven't lost ONE pound in 9 weeks. This leads to my feeling unworthy.

That has revived a terrible relationship I used to have with food. This leads me to feel shame.

I've been unable to provide financially to my family, this leads to my feeling useless.

I've been watching people around me succeed and flourish and grow and I'm still in the same place I was 5 years ago.
And after spending time celebrating with them, I turn to myself and wish to be them, which leads me to ungratefulness.

I feel alone and realize in isolating myself in my darkness, I am alone. That my friends and family have no idea what to do when I'm absent so they move on. So I decide I'm someone who's not meant to have close friends and try to move on as well.

I've been lost in my negativity, leading to hopelessness and fear. I've found the times I genuinely laugh are fewer and fewer.

At the beginning of February I was feeling this way as well. and then I got sick with this nasty cold and BOO HOO my life was over. I had to miss a friend's surprise party and then I was about to miss seeing one of my favorite people speak something wonderful. I laid in bed sleeping off my sickness running through all of the bullet points of woes when I suddenly realized how pathetic I was being. Sure, some of it, maybe a lot if it, are legitimate concerns and my fear is validated and yes, the tumors of insecurity I have beneath the surface need some serious addressing but dangit did I need to listen to Glennon Doyle Melton speak.

I loaded my purse with hand sanitizer and a lot of meds and carpooled with  my friends to hear her.

I was in a total medicine induced mind fog but I think it helped me hear her words with more clarity.

She spoke of a hundred things I wish I could have captured but one of the things that struck me so deeply was when she spoke of the valleys. I've found myself in some deep valleys, as has anyone living a life with feelings. But my valleys are hard for me to understand and hard for me to navigate through.
I thought once I had my soul mate I'd be okay and once I met my kids and kissed their faces I could never be so sad again. But it's inevitable; it's an inevitable part of me.
But, guys, my kids are getting older and seeing me in my valleys and it hurts my heart so much that I want to bury myself in the depths of that valley in shame. My oldest is beginning to listen, to watch and to recognize my darkness. She asks me if I'm okay and steps in to help more around the house and draws me pictures and it breaks me to pieces. This was never supposed to happen, my kids were never supposed to see this. And it makes me loathe myself and hate that I could be so selfish and petty.

"Don't knock the valleys," Glennon said. "Everyone wants to be on the mountaintop but up there the air is so thin and you can't move - you have to stand still so you don't fall off. The valley is where the river runs. It's where the power is."

That's it. The valleys don't have to be the end. I need to find my river. I don't know how and I don't know where it is but those words gave me hope that maybe I won't be a burden forever.

I've felt so guilty over these past few years. I've felt so guilty that my husband married this depression. I have a terror in me that it will end my marriage someday. It's part of me, despite my meds, despite my growth and age. And maybe, just maybe, it's okay. It will be okay. It's okay to be sensitive, to feel the darkness. Let it restart my heart. I just have to find the river.

"Learning to be still in pain is alchemy." - Glennon

 Learning to be still, feel the pain, blindly or eyes wild, feeling it is the alchemy. Feel it and find the way out because you will always come out stronger.

I just have to find my river.

Mirena

I wanted to share my experience with the birth control IUD Mirena because finding other people's stories were the only reason I didn't feel so awful and crazy.

I had Mirena inserted in mid December, 8 weeks after giving birth to my son and had no problems with the appointment. I experienced some cramping and bled for a little over a month (which I was alarmed about because I wasn't told that it was normal to experience a month of heavy bleeding) but other than that, nothing abnormal.

My first indication that something was off was that I had been working out, first mildly with yoga and then strenuously with high impact cardio for, at the time of my concern developing, 7 weeks and eating a very strict diet with a calorie intake that never exceeded 1500. I had not lost one pound. I could feel I was getting stronger but my weight didn't move at all. My measurements weren't changing either and then I found I was  actually gaining. Now I know, this is everyone's favorite argument, "muscle weighs more than fat, you're gaining muscle". Yes. I know, But what I was expereincing just made no sense. So I kept working and weighing and waiting and the scale never changed.

In the beginning of January my scalp became so intensely itchy. I smeared coconut oil on it every night and tried to shower as sparingly as possible hoping the natural oils my scalp produces would balance out or something - I have no idea I'm not a hair doctor. For a year before I was able to wash my hair once every three days and then with this I suddenly found myself needing to shower everyday because of THE DANDRUFF. Huge flakes, guys. I could provide the snow for a stage production of A Christmas Carol. It was terribly embarrassing. I asked my friend, who could be considered a "hair doctor", as I officially stated earlier and she suggested Aveda's scalp benefits shampoo which I bought the next day.





(Sidenote guys: it took me a LONG time to convert over to the fancy shampoo and conditioner crew but it is so absolutely worth it. I don't have to use as much and my whole family uses it. I know the price tag is stroke inducing but our family used an $80 bottle of condition her A YEAR. And my hair feels better than it ever has. *cue shiny hair toss over the shoulder, laughing to the heavens* )

So, I'm overweight, trapped in overweight mode, itching my head like I have fleas, danderry (which is a word now) and also very, very depressed. There were life situations happening at the time but I could never quite pinpoint why exactly I was so down. It got bad enough I went in to see a doctor about it.
Those life situations also led me to think that they were causing me stress headaches as well. These headaches would come on suddenly and were sharp. I experienced them probably every other day.

I chalked every symptom up to another issue, which it could have been. But as I was researching how to cure my dandruff problem, I found a likely culprit to be a hormone imbalance. Wait a sec. Hormones. Ok. So I Google birth control and dandruff. Lots of hits. I Google Dandruff and Mirena. Lots of people experiencing the exact same thing I was. Itchy scalp and some had the dandruff too. The weight gain or inability to lose any weight. HEADACHES.

I had been keeping tabs on the weight gain and Mirena debate. I say debate because every health care professional and medical website says that birth control, and Mirena specifically, does not cause weight gain. However, hundreds of women, including myself, are experiencing it. Women were gaining 20lbs since Mirena and their doctors were dismissing it. Every woman I saw that expereinced weight gain and had it removed said they did begin experiencing weight loss after, some rapid and some slow going.

I had my Mirena removed a little over a week ago and my dandruff is gone. My scalp is only a little itchy but pretty normal for it being the middle of winter. My depression has eased quite a bit (to be clear, I didn't know depression was a side effect until after I had it removed. It was yet another "aha" moment.) No headaches anymore. And I've lost one pound. Whoopee. I'll take one pound over the ZERO pounds I've lost in 12 weeks of diet and exercise. (That's another blog, though.)

So I wanted to write this to be another voice in the sea of voices saying I know my body and I am right. You know your body, you know when something is off despite others telling you you are wrong. My nurse and doctor both appeased my reasoning for removing the Mirena after 6 weeks of it but were careful not to tell me I was right. I don't mean that in a rude way, I love my doctor, but I also know what she's learned is not matching up with what's happening to me and that's ok but I know I am right. 

I want to be very clear that I am well aware that Mirena works great for some women. Two women close to me use it and love it. I am totally not against Mirena. It just doesn't work everyone and that's totally okay. It just really, really sucks to be one of those women and to have people more educated than you telling you you are wrong and continue suffering.

Freakin uteruses, man. They're so powerful. Mine is definitely winning in the war of control and totally giving me the finger.

Book 2016, Chapter 1

In July of 2010, we visited a church in Lawrence, KS that sparked excitement and hope that was electric. We moved our family to Lawrence to be a part of it. 

In August of 2012, I wrote about what this church, EastLake, had done for us in the two years we had spent in the life changing love and community it was composed of.

Now in January of 2016, I write a goodbye to it.

We're in the middle of something big and heavy.

EastLake itself has been something bigger than I could have ever imagined. I've always been on a never ending search for God and sense and purpose. EastLake became an incredibly safe place for me to do that. And if God ever makes Himself known to Earth, if He ever decides to show Himself to the people He made, if He ever personally intervenes on behalf of those He loves, He did so with EastLake.

We came to EastLake ready for a new adventure and good Lord did we get one.
I had spent most of my life trying to make sense of Christianity and when we arrived at EastLake, ready to drive our roots into the ground,  I was also in the throes of some serious self righteous, holier than thou bullshit I thought I needed to be to be a good Christian. Talk after talk felt directly addressed to me - challenging me to forgive those who hurt me, apologize to those I hurt, soften my heart to vulnerability, break down the walls previous churches help me build, open my heart to the searching I still felt compelled to do and see, finally see, people's hearts through their stories and hurts.

Not only that, but a few months after relocating and beginning to plug in at Eastlake, I was devastated by personal turmoil that ravaged my heart, marriage and trust in anyone again. The community and people at EastLake were the ground when mine crumbled beneath me. They were there before I knew I needed them. They spoke love and change and demonstrated acceptance and importance the way I heard Jesus had. It was awe inspiring.

It IS awe inspiring.

EastLake will soon be closing its doors. Not because no one shows up, not because of some crazy scandal, not because it's broke, or broken. Because it's time. And boy does my heart ache over it. The grieving it invokes is unlike what I've experienced before. I'm aching that I have to explain to my kids what's going on, angry that it's ending, excited for another new chapter, hopeless that we'll ever find something like it again, thankful when I look back, fearful I'll lose my people.

I've been a somber shell or a crying mess or a strong and optimistic bulwark. Some of my closest friends, who are in leadership positions, already know and we see in each other's eyes this terribly confusing storm of emotions. The meeting where our lead pastor shared what was coming was met with an amazing response of hugs, tears and quiet hope. Quiet hope is definitely the front runner in my emotions lately. I worry that these last 5 in a half years will be those golden years you look back on. I worry what's in front of me is hard and dark and lonely. I worry I'll lose my people. These people watched me ugly cry and work through my darkness and make really dumbass jokes. They're my people.

On top of that, my husband then needed a job and every lead was crashing and burning. If being a parent to 3 kids, including a newborn, living in a single income family with that single income teetering on the brink of dissolution doesn't send you into a anxious, nauseated panic...then you must have more stability than I because I've been a hot, hot mess.

2016 will be an interesting year. If I weren't actually living it, I would be excited as hell. I love new chapters. I love adventures. I love change. But I am living it. And I'm consciously reminding myself to enjoy what I can in everything happening.
I will move on, with my people, to something wonderful. Maybe a new church, maybe just boozey nights with lots of laughing.

My husband and I decided this will be the time he starts his business. We both have known he would own his own business someday. He is the most entrepreneurial person I know. He has the heart, mind, creativity and discipline to do it beautifully. I just thought we'd be like, 40 when it happens. But as the chapter of this year unfolds, it seems increasingly obvious that now is the time. Venturing into this uncharted territory with 3 small children in tow is terrifying but sometimes embracing the exciting and terrifying leads you into purpose.

Having decided that, things are absolutely just as scary but there's a direction, whereas before I felt like I was dispatched into a lifeboat with no compass and praying our paddles work.

These next few months will be increasingly difficult to process. EastLake has given me much I will never forget and will forever, eternally be grateful for. It didn't exist as long as I wish, with all my heart, that it could have but it fulfilled so much in its time. I fully intend to take heart, grab  my paddle, follow my compass without falter and bring others into my lifeboat. (As much as an introvert can, really.)

EastLake gave me hope. I will go and do likewise.