I keep getting the itch. To paintsewcutpasteglittergluepaperbluecanvasstretchstapletieplay.

I'm going to do at least a few of those things after finals. I've got the idea for Andrew's Christmas gift(and a decoration for over the mantel, and ENTIRE installation inspired by a feminist article, and some other stuff. For fun.) and I need to get crackin'. I keep figuring though that my mom and I will need something to do while she's here, so I can do it then as well.

School is so almost done my wrists itch. Whatever that means.

Sunday is the Deaf Kids Christmas Party, and then two weeks after that is the Royal Family Kid's Camp party, and then Christmas. Has this year FLOWN by or what? I'm still in shock.

I'm also feeling crafty(horny. busy. lucky. in lovely. excited. nervous. hungry. overweight. overwhelmed. underbusy. useless.) but mostly just loved. If I could bottle all of the love I've been getting lately I could sell it for a lot of money. And I could spritz it on people at the mall and they would actually NOT get annoyed....miracles do happen.

Rain, Fall, Winter, Family

I'll admit it: When you're dealing with sexual assault from your childhood, as it has been freshly uncovered and pondered and handled and touched and felt and chewed on-everything feels like an assault all over again.

Walking down the street I find that if I'm alone, I'm constantly on the verge of tears.

So I keep trying not to be alone. I also keep wondering if the "normal person" years are ever going to arrive, or if I'm just one of the lucky ones that will continue to uncover more and more and more garbage that I could not control or run away from.

Fingers crossed I am not that kind of lucky.

We All Should Know

It has taken me a few days to write this all down. Mostly because it was so violating, but also because I was almost afraid to. Me, the one with the roaring loud bark and clearly no bite-afraid. I wanted to write this down because after it happened my husband told me that it was ignorance, that I couldn't really hold it against them because they were just uneducated. While he later apologized, I'm not allowing any of you-especially the men, to say that you didn't know, that nobody ever told you.

In my sociology class we watched a film called "Dreamworlds 2," about MTV and the music industry and its objectification of women. How this objectification then leads to mild violence in the videos, how whenever a woman says "no" she's only doing it to be chased, and that she always means "yes." It also clearly drew upon the ideas that all women in traditional music videos are nymphos, don't really like to wear very much clothing, and CLEARLY have an affinity for being clean-which is seen in their constant need to run into streams of water or take showers in white clothing. All of this culminated in showing a clip from "The Accused" in which the main character is being gang raped in a bar. The men call out how she wants it, she likes it, who's next, show her what she wants, etc. The woman was extremely intoxicated when she was raped, and later it was said that she was "asking for it" because of her behavior at the bar. This was a true story. I digress, the started splicing the audio from the rape scene with scenes from music videos showing that the soundtrack is actually quite accurate for videos and things in the media we see and take for granted.

Watching a music video, really? You're going to tell me that watching a music video perpetuates rape? Yes. But wait, the story gets better.

Afterwards there was a discussion section of class. Due to my course load this term, I have had a rape discussion, two of them put on by women active at the Portland Women's Crisis Line, a total of four times. Every. Single. Time. The first comment has been "what about the men?" or something of that nature. This class it was "I'm a male and I'm offended by this video because this is not who I personally am."

This would not be an issue as yes, men are also victims of sexual assault. Except that every time we have spent at least a quarter of the allotted conversation time talking about 3% of the victims.

The conversation continued and another male raised his hand, saying that while his female friends are all of the "hippie" variety, and therefore they dress more to be funny than anything, Halloween is a great example of how women objectify themselves. While this is a very large onion, that would take a more lengthy conversation to unwrap(along the lines of: we're taught that we are only objects, so we act out the roles. Skin looks bad? You can be a CoverGirl. Pants too tight? Call Jenny. Want to go to college and make something of yourself? Join a sorority where you too can be used and abused but in the end you're married to a man from a more desirable social set. Don't worry, if you would like to discuss this further, I'd absotively love to.)I finally raised my hand and got called on.

The teacher had just made the comment that she wants to hear people's thoughts on why females would dress in this manner if all of society was going to call them slutty?

My response: To wear a one-piece lycra-spandex cat suit, you have to be over the top hot. Those girls wear those things to get positive attention, nobody walked up to her and told her she looked like a slut-they told her she looked hot. She seeks what she knows she will receive. However, when she put that outfit on she wasn't "asking for it," as I have yet to even read about a woman who wakes up and says "I'd just LOVE to get raped and violated today." Back to the first male's comment. I apologize that you're offended by this video, but unfortunately 97% of sexual assault is committed against women. Sadly, men ARE the problem. They're the ones committing these violent acts. I'm sorry you don't feel that you're fairly represented. (Insert boos and many "no she didn't" comments from a majority of the males in the class) Lastly, if 1 out of every 4 women will be sexually assaulted by the time she graduates from college, look around you. Should we really be making slut jokes? Jokes about them asking for it?

So yes, I was upset. Yes, I was emotional. Yes, I have been raped multiple times by different men throughout my life, and therefore I can get as emotional as I damn please.

The Portland State football players that are in my class took it upon themselves to start booing, name-calling, and all that general tomfoolery that demands so much respect. I'm pretty sure a few of them even shouted that I need to "calm down."

Said male who went first started to plead his case(which in all reality, this young boy really seems to be a nice guy and I can understand his frustration, however-pleading the case of the male race seemed a little much considering the profiles on repeat rapists-they're the everyday guys that you talk to on the regular. They're not creepers that find you in an alley, only something along the lines of 15% of rapes are committed by strangers-the rest are by people we know and trust. So even though he thinks that he doesn't know anyone who has committed rape, the odds are not in his favor.) while giving all the reasons I must be wrong, even though research backs me up, the football players all started getting louder and louder with phrases like "that's right, you tell her" and "get her! get her!"

So how would you feel? After just watching a very graphic rape scene wherein the mob mentality led a group of men to violate a woman in public, while nobody stepped in, and when you say something a group of physically dominant males doesn't agree with they start saying "get her get her."

Personally I felt violated. True, these young "men" are just that-young. They don't know the facts. What scares me is that because of this lack of knowledge, I'm sure that they don't know anything about consent either. That if a girl has been drinking, she cannot lucidly say yes. That just because she decided to go out with her friends and wear a skirt, she wasn't "asking for it." That if you invite her to a party, and hand her a cup of Jungle Juice, just because she drank it-surrounded by her peers-doesn't mean she's just begging for someone to "show her a good time."

The male who commented on Halloween costumes raised his hand. He said: You're right. You're right and I'm sorry to all the women in the room I offended. I am sorry that society has told me I needed to act and say things just like those guys(finger pointing at the football players), and I'm sorry I fell for it. I didn't think about those who have been raped in the room, and I didn't comment on the larger picture. I'm sorry.

An older woman raised her hand in the back and said: Isn't it interesting that the minute you challenge that which makes the majority comfortable, you're labled an "angry lesbian"? (just in case you missed it, she's referring to me. That was one of the things they were shouting in my direction. Those angry feminists, they're all lezzies. Especially since there's something so terribly wrong with all of my homosexual friends that their sexuality should be used as an extreme insult. Another story.)

The room got silent. The teacher was in shock that after watching something so graphic, those boy found it somewhere deep inside them to yell so many (many more I didn't list) things at me, because I quoted a statistic and labeled blame. Heaven-for-bid.

So which are you? Are you the one who would make the joke? Are you the one who would be offended, and if you are-what are you doing about it? Are you the one who would get angry, and yell at me, try to "teach me a lesson"? Are you the male who would step up in the end and apologize? Are you the older woman who is just disgusted? Are you the woman who sits next to me and is completely defined by her sexuality? Are you one of those who has been so hurt, so assaulted, so violated that you stay silent? Are you the loud bitchy lesbian(who's married to a very heterosexual football player herself) that is tired of a broken system that will never change if we all remain quiet?

Food for thought:

1 out of every 6 American women has been the victim of an attempted or completed rape in her lifetime (14.8% completed rape; 2.8% attempted rape).¹

17.7 million American women have been victims of attempted or completed rape.¹

9 of every 10 rape victims were female in 2003.²

While about 80% of all victims are white, minorities are somewhat more likely to be attacked.

About 3% of American men — or 1 in 33 — have experienced an attempted or completed rape in their lifetime.¹

• In 2003, 1 in every ten rape victims were male.²
• 2.78 million men in the U.S. have been victims of sexual assault or rape.¹

15% of sexual assault and rape victims are under age 12.³

• 29% are age 12-17.
• 44% are under age 18.³
• 80% are under age 30.³
• 12-34 are the highest risk years.
• Girls ages 16-19 are 4 times more likely than the general population to be victims of rape, attempted rape, or sexual assault.

7% of girls in grades 5-8 and 12% of girls in grades 9-12 said they had been sexually abused.⁴

• 3% of boys grades 5-8 and 5% of boys in grades 9-12 said they had been sexually abused.

In 1995, local child protection service agencies identified 126,000 children who were victims of either substantiated or indicated sexual abuse.⁵

• Of these, 75% were girls.
• Nearly 30% of child victims were between the age of 4 and 7.

93% of juvenile sexual assault victims know their attacker.⁶

• 34.2% of attackers were family members.
• 58.7% were acquaintances.
• Only 7% of the perpetrators were strangers to the victim.

Approximately 2/3 of rapes were committed by someone known to the victim.¹
73% of sexual assaults were perpetrated by a non-stranger.¹
38% of rapists are a friend or acquaintance.¹
28% are an intimate.¹
7% are a relative.¹

^{All facts and statistics can be found at:} http://www.rainn.org/

Man alive do I love that husband of mine.

A Quickie

I'm pretty sure that by now I don't need to say that we're not interested in biologically procreating, but I will just for fun, but also because it is relevant.

I absotively LOVE this woman and read her blog daily. I would use another word to describe my feelings, but I really would love to make friends with her in real life and sit and drink coffee or tea while her children run around us in a blur and she cried to me about her life. Because I know that she would then allow me to cry about mine, and we would hug it out, and then do something so much less demanding. Basically a lot like my relationship with Rae, except that Rae and I had very different childhoods, and she only has two kids. I digress.

That woman I'm in love with linked to another dear lady's blog, and I got sucked into the surprises that come with giving birth and choosing to love whatever comes out of that 9 month(approx. I know it's longer) oven. I do want to know. Of course I do. My husband is SEX all the time, and I was one adorable kid, so I am curious. Who's not? I'm pretty sure everyone wants to know what a child of theirs would look like, I'm just not going to follow that curiosity.

But I do want to know. And I know that by deciding against having children biologically we are sacrificing that opportunity. However-I know that we will eventually grow past the child-ban en la chez Rowlett, and we will adopt...and those kids-they're so mine they won't know what hit em'.

Things have been getting increasingly busy lately. I'm so beyond thankful that I'm not working retail again this year....oi. With Thanksgiving comes time with my sister-in-law(always my favorite. of course.), and then the arrival of my mother shortly thereafter. So on top of holidays and all of that preparation, I have finals coming. I also have three Christmas parties in December, plus a girl's weekend with Rae and Sheilagh(sorry if I butchered the spelling there girl!), and house organizing to accommodate our guest that will surely drive Andrew and I to drink.

Fortunately, my husband is continuing to be an amazing man and tender lover. This weekend we're going on a little two day trip, returning just in time to go to Stella's birthday. He just couldn't wait to go somewhere, do SOMETHING, in our brand spankin' new car....which is just an incredible blessing. :)

I have been noticing lately though that I've come to a crossroads. A "friend cleanse" of sorts. As I'm sure has been apparent in my last few posts, I recently needed to end a relationship with someone who was no longer a person I wanted to share my life with. Fortunately for both of us, we got to that point at the same time. It is still funny to me though the petty steps she and her husband are making to clean up their mess with other members of the community I am a part of, especially when it comes to things like the fact that they emailed people on facebook asking them to unfriend us. Yes. Really. And yes, they're both over the age of thirty and are soon giving birth to their third child. Aren't you glad that they're molding the minds of our future? I sure am.

Along those lines, I'm rejoicing in the amazingly positive friendships I have right now, but am also recognizing another relationship I am a part of that is another case of wanting me around for comic relief/free babysitting/an ear to bitch to/etc. but has no interest in me as a human being. This would not be a problem for someone with more availability emotionally, but unfortunately I'm pretty used up. The hard part is that in both cases, these people were my family. The people I chose to have in my life to love and support me in return for the same. So it is hard to step back and realize that you were wrong, these people were just season people, not lifers. That there just isn't a place for them in your future, or you in theirs. That none of them are interested in who you are, but only who you were-and let me tell you: I'm not even impressed with who I was.

But how do you extricate yourself from something of this size? With the other relationship it came to an explosive end, but with this one I'd rather not burn the bridge, I just don't want to drive to the island anymore. Which I've already put into play, all of my friends are aware that I'm on a "break" from this person/their community for right now. But being even remotely involved with this person is just painful. Even a distantly communicative relationship is too demanding.

So I suppose I'll just wait. I do think it is funny though that I've grown past a point of wanting to keep any of the relationships that started back then, back when I was 14 and 3 and 27 all at the same time. Maybe I should send them all each other's phone numbers and they can all come together with their similar decisions and start a book club? I kid, I kid. It would be really successful though ;)

101st Post!!!

I didn't even notice that my last post was my hundredth with Blogger....not sure that even matters, but people always make a note of it-so here is...noted.

In honor of childish things I wanted to say-once again-"no congratulations"

Last night I saw again how your selfishness can continue to affect people-you should be ashamed.

I am comforted though, by the fact that we were your pillars, your blocks, your nets, your boards, and now instead you have gelatin versions of us. Ones that simply cannot be what we were because you prefer for things to appear differently than they are.

Fortunately for you, you live in a home of smoke and mirror mastery, so this is no problem.

Lies continue to spew forth from your doors, phone lines, key boards, mouths.

Cover ups for things even you cannot explain, and of course, because it's you-will never apologize for.

Funny thing is, it was me who knew you longer. Me who watched you change, morph, melt into sadness and complacency, then paint that stage make-up on so carefully.

In honor of something you will truly understand-regardless of your button eyes and sweet cake lies-I loved you through all the seasons.

Until you decided in your bitterness and spite to use a scalpel to carve something that you claim you had revealed to me before-but let's be honest: you don't have the depth or the clout to stand up to me. You would never dare say those things to my face because your house of glass is so easily destructed and you know I hold the pebbles(the tiny pebbles, that's all it would take) to make it come crashing down.

So again, you should be ashamed. Especially because you're trying so hard to fit your fingernails between that tunnel and the door, but you don't realize I've already thrown you down the well.

"Everything is as it should be." Your contented sigh is just a lie and I see right through your tears.

When something beautiful unfolds you want to stare at it. You want to clench it in your fist so tightly it becomes a part of you, that your teeth bare down on one another in anticipation of pure ecstasy-enveloping consumption.

Sweat is a natural companion in crowds, it's as if your prefrontal cortex never fully developed and you are stuck in high school, the "other" people all stare at you and whisper. Except that they're not really, you're sweating for your own pleasure[evidently].

While walking down the sidewalk because your hearing is disappearing(apparently along with your sanity) you are in constant panic-maybe that man is high on meth[a side effect of living in the Portland metro] and is going to stab you/steal your bag/rape you/take something from you/steal your safety.

Why? Because you were consumed. You were crushed. You were eaten and beaten and left in the hopes that maybe you would die quietly and nobody would notice. Except you didn't. You survived.

Now you walk and sweat and clench and cover in the hopes that nobody will catch on to your constant state of crazy.

Your husband, he knows. He knows and that is why when you say something abrupt, socially disastrous, rude, abrasive, etc.-he just smiles and cleans up your mess with a joke and a *change of subject*. Without him surely someone would have actually tried to stab you/beat you up/take something from you/steal your safety by this point.

Mid-thought you realize that not only does saying that out loud mean you have an unhealthy dependence upon your spouse, but also that the only way you can discuss what is going on with you is in the third person.

But then again, specialists in the field of your distress say that of course would be true. So you're comforted and gather your things to walk amidst the "others" and sweat out the remainder of the day.

Enough.

One of my guilty pleasures is SATC. It's just the way it is. I have seen every single episode at least four times, and if someone were an expert-it would be me. Regardless of the offensive stereotypes, and basically anti-feminist tone of the entire thing, I LOVE the show.

The second movie had one of the most personally relevant scenes that I have ever seen. I'm ashamed to admit that, but aside from films akin to White Oleander, SATC2 really speaks to me. There is a scene in which Carrie and Big are sitting there chatting with another couple that claims to be "exactly like them," and the subject of children comes up. The other couple says that they're expecting in a couple of months via surrogate, and questions when Carrie and Big will be having children. Carrie responds that they won't, to the best imitation of the bitter beer face since the mid-90's that I've ever seen. (pop culture references galore this post, it seems...)

This other couple then says, with a bitter taste in their mouth "so then, it's just...the two of you?"

Occasionally I find myself pondering this question as Andrew and I look at a life filled with each other and no little pitter patters on our wood floors, aside from the cat and possibly someday a dog. Are we enough? Will I get to that point in my life where I look back and regret that I never had a child? Aside from the million social reasons I am against biological procreation considering the current state of the globe, I have multiple personal reasons. The main one being that I have far too many issues stemming from my treatment as a child that I don't want to adopt a child and have them be my little science experiment. Can mommy go a whole week without melting down? Can she experience little Capri's school years without going batshit and locking her in a closet?

Often people pat me on the shoulder and say the standard "you'll change your mind" "through the grace of God you can overcome this obstacle, because you recognize it"....etc. But I have PTSD. Straight up I don't want to have a flashback or episode and scar my precious child because I was too selfish to have the foresight to prevent it. Andrew has been affirming my feelings and convictions lately as the main goal in our raising children conversations throughout our relationship has been to find something to "break the cycle." He has said multiple times that this is one sure way to break it. I don't feel a sense of loss for me, I feel it for him. What if he wants children in a few years? What if he changes his mind? Will we be enough, just the two of us?

I know that right now I'm broken on the floor in a billion pieces and I need to recognize my true wound-attender: Christ. But I'm angry at him. I'm really angry. I am the one who often cites the response when questioned how I can believe in a God that is responsible for allowing x,y,z to happen "shit happens to everyone. I'm no better or worse, things have and will happen to me again. This is the human condition and the repercussion of sin."

Except I'm just pissed. Why sexual assault of the helpless? Why that thing? To me it is more violating than cancer, war, murder, famine, etc. But I'm sure that anyone who has personally experience any of those things would say the same about it. So I'm just a petulent child throwing a tantrum. I'm just not ready to cry to my Father yet.

It is all connected, I promise.

Interpersonal Violence 344U

For those of you who have stumbled upon my blog and don't know me this is going to be a graphic blog. Please be aware.

I took a one credit course over the past two days, and was in no way prepared for what I experienced. I spent the first night sobbing all the way home, went straight to Rae's(because Andrew had to load the truck for the market the next day), and then sobbed some more. When Andrew got home I went home and was then able to calmly explain what had happened and kept him up until 2 in the morning. Yesterday when I was done with class I came home drained, lay down to take a nap with Andrew at about 6, and we woke up at 1:45 this morning...and decided it was best to just sleep through it.

With all of that said, it was clearly painful. I questioned whether or not I will ever have the capacity to be a therapist, because I will have to go through all of the classes first. Rae was kind enough to tell me that people who have had these experiences are drawn to the field because they possess empathy and want to help others who experience the same things.

I was raped when I was 17. I never thought of it as rape because I had been drinking, but it was. Only 5% of campus rape is reported, because the victim claims responsibility as there was alcohol involved. Shame, fear of being called a liar, and social pressures confirm these feelings, so the incidences go unreported.

I was 17, and had already started talking with Jason. Because he was older my step-father's friends then thought that it wasn't that I was interested in Jason, it was that I must be interested in older men. False. Besides the point. The Saturday following my high school graduation, two of my step-father(Frank)'s friends came over. One of them came inside and said "come have a shot of tequila with us, but tell Frank it's your first time." To which I replied "no thanks, I've had it before and don't really like it." Pushing me physically out the door he said "oh c'mon, just one..."

Six shots with my mother, step-father, and two of his friends later, I left for a friend's graduation party. I was so intoxicated I had to ask a friend from school to take me home after only 20 minutes. When I got home there was a new male there, and Frank had gone to bed. This guy's name was David, and he was 21 at the time-much closer in age to me, which is why he had been invited by Frank's friends. Frank had been put to bed as he was so intoxicated he could barely stand, and tried to pick a fight with David because he said he could "see right through him, and knew why he had come."

My mother told Frank he was being silly and sent him to bed. So, just clarify as my writing I'm sure will get more and more confusing: My mother, three men, and I are sitting out by the pool and continue to drink. Everything gets fuzzy here, but I didn't think anything bad would happen because I was in my own home, with my own mother, and she would take care of me if anything were to get out of control. Next thing I remember we were walking through the neighborhood as we had heard a house party/band playing a few houses over. Next, we're there. Next, somehow I'm back home in my pool with David, just the two of us. Next, I'm on the floor in my living room and he's having sex on me. I pushed him off and started crying, ran to my room and locked the door, where I cried for the duration of the night.

The next morning I woke up to find he had spent the night in the guest room, my mom made pancakes, and the four of us had breakfast together. She gave him my number because she didn't approve of me dating Jason, and wanted him to call and take me out. Later that day I told her I ended up having sex with him on the living room floor, and she said "yeah, I figured that would happen."

I told Jason that week at church camp, yes-really, and I cried and apologized. It was my fault, I had been drinking. Evidently, drinking means you're asking to get raped. All these years I had been told and affirmed, mostly by members of the church, that when a girl does something "bad" and something "even badder" happens to her-she was asking for it. Not only that but it's just how society as a whole views it. I got intoxicated, being sexually violated was my consequence.

Moving on. We then went on to talk about victims of childhood sexual assault. I know, and have always known, that I was sexually molested as a child. However, I have many snippets of foggy memories, of many different men, from my childhood. I had always hoped that maybe I had manifested those, maybe they were from a dream and not from life. Maybe I wasn't molested by Robert, maybe he just physically abused me.

Bessel A. van der Kolk, a professor of Psychiatry at the Boston University School of Medicine, and also a Professor of Paedagogics at Harvard University, is a leader in the field of trauma memory. This is from an article he wrote:

While ordinary memory is an active and constructive process, traumatic memories are stored in ways that are different from the memories of every day experience, namely as associated sensory and perceptual fragments of the experience.....Trauma narratives can be understood as attempts to make sense of these dissociated, fragmented memory imprints. The transcription of sensory experiences into narratives may result in "distorted memories.".....It is now understood that early affective experiences, as well as traumatic memories, are primarily processed in the right hemishpere[of the brain], which makes them relatively inaccessible to verbal analysis and interpretation.

So roughly 20 minutes after realizing that I was, in fact, raped, it was brought to my attention that these foggy memories are real and they did happen. Which was only helpful in this way: to recognize that I was repeatedly sexually assaulted as a small child, from age 2 forward(that I know of), it would make sense why when I was again assaulted I would not recognize it as that. I would see it as my fault, as I had always been used sexually and therefore if anything was out of the norm it was my fault, my manifestation.

We then went on to discuss PTSD in great detail, which I was diagnosed with at the age of 12 by my first therapist, and was affirmed by my subsequent two, the one in Oklahoma City was basically incompetent, and he didn't really have much to say period. For some unknown reason I had been living under the impression that my PTSD had "gone away." To be honest-I'm not really sure why. But looking at the symptoms of PTSD displayed as far as social behavior, I am the poster-child for a childhood sexual assault survivor with adult PTSD. Truly. So let me list a few of symptoms of PTSD:

• Alterations in emotional regulation, which may include symptoms such as persistent sadness, suicidal thoughts, explosive anger, or inhibited anger.
• Alterations in consciousness, such as forgetting traumatic events, reliving traumatic events, or having episodes in which one feels detached from one's mental processes or body.
• Alterations in self perception, which may include a sense of helplessness, shame, guilt, stigma, as well as a sense of complete difference from other human beings.
• Alterations in perception of perpetrator, such as attributing total power to the perpetrator or becoming preoccupied with the relationship with the perpetrator, including a preoccupation with revenge.
• Alterations in relations with others, including isolation, distrust, or repeated search for a rescuer.
• Alterations in systems of meaning, which may include a loss of sustaining faith or a sense of hopelessness and despair.

Or my favorite "The disorder is also associated with impairment of the person's ability to function in social or family life, including occupational instability, marital problems and divorces, family discord, and difficulties in parenting."

I could go on forever about all of this, but instead will say that I asked my professor for some therapist recommendations locally as she works in the field, and tomorrow I'll be scheduling my first appointment in over 4 years. I need it, I know I do, I can see how all of this has manifested in my life and how I should be handing people who want to be a part of mine a user's manual with a HUGE warning section...lol. Andrew was even understanding enough to say yes, when I told him that after seeing the therapist for a while I would want him to come in to work together for some tools to help us work around my disorder, so that if I ever get out of control or am being completely irrational-we'll have the tools to work with it. The end for this moment.

They say it's your birthday nuhnunuhnunuh-it's my birthday too.... :)

I love this day. Tonight my people are gathering together to eat and drink wine, and I love them all the more for it. :)

The big 2-4. My proudest accomplishment thus far: I don't have any kids. Praise JESUS! Seriously.

Last night I may have had one or two too many adult beverages. And when I say may, I definitely did. Good news is that Andrew has the day off except for the meeting he is currently in, so we got to sleep in this morning.

But while we were spending time with friends, celebrating a visit from one that is currently living in Cairo, my attention was brought to something I had forgotten about: Andrew left me one night. We were hanging out with the same friends, his friends from high school, and we were again partaking in adult beverages. He got frustrated because he was tired and wanted to go home and I was drinking, so he just left me there without so much as telling me he was going. Cam had to drive me home. It was quite the event at the time, as we had only been married all of five seconds.

I just wanted to write this down, because in my last blog about Andrew I wrote that he had never disrespected me or been embarrassed of me, but he has.

I love the way he smells and breaths and clasps softly at my hand in his sleep. The way he always falls asleep while driving, but when I'm in the car keeps squeezing my leg to stay awake-it's one thing to get in an accident when you're alone, another entirely when your wife is with you. I love that when we get tired together we laugh and laugh and laugh, well, we laugh after we've figured out the reason we're so irritable has to do with being tired. I love that he is tender with me, and has literally never once disrespected me. Ever. Really, I just thought about it.

He somehow(because he loves Jesus) always knows exactly what to say when I'm broken, he knows how to tell when I'm broken for that matter, and after the hot tears make rivers down my face he brushes them away and lets me cry some more. Until I'm done. Let's not fool ourselves though, I don't cry...

Even though I give him a really hard time about it, I love his morning stinky breath the way you love puppy breath because it's just so damn cute. I love the way he plays with kids, but that after we're away from everyone else in the car on the way home, he always turns to me at just the right moment and tells me that he's probably never going to be ready(which I am normally three seconds shy of telling him, so it all works out). I love that he is not embarrassed of me, even though I know that I often do things that are reckless, foolish, and downright stupid. He has never yelled at me. He has, however, threatened to blow me up with a pumpkin bomb a few times, but at that point we're just splitting hairs.

I love the way he melts into me when he's tired, how he is when his back itches, and that on our days off when we get to spend time together but have no money he chooses one of my two favorite things to do if the weather doesn't permit a hike: the library or the Humane Society. Truthfully, we never go on hikes. I'm a whiner and if the weather isn't just so I don't want to go. When the weather is just so there's always a million other things to be doing. But you know what? Even though he adores hikes he loves me and he has never complained.

I love that we eat meals at the table whenever we're both eating at the same time, which really never happens, but that when we do we don't even clear the surface. It's a hodge-podge of mail, bags, invitations, books, pictures, craft scraps, cups, clothes, and most of the time-Hurley. But we sit and hold hands and he prays thanking God for me and my willingness and ability to make a meal. Even though I have never spent more than an hour preparing a meal that just he and I are going to eat, my sister-in-law would be ashamed, that girl cooks.

I love the way his eyes crinkle in the corners when he smiles or laughs, from years and years of joy. I love that I get to experience life with someone who spent almost every day of their life smiling, to know how the other half lives. I love that when we do market together he does most of the work, but when I do lift my share and sweat my share-he always thanks me and praises me for it.

Every fall when things start to get shaky for me as my birthday, the holidays, memories passed but never forgotten, start to approach, he just buckles down and snuggles me more. He tells me that taking a million credits is really good for me because he knows I have to be pushed to the limits to be successful. He encourages me in the things that will prosper me, that will make me feel accomplished, and if I fail or quit-he lets it pass quietly. Telling me there will be another chance to work on it or make it up.

He edifies me with his every move. He makes a conscious effort to love me with every-single-one of his actions, and I'm pretty sure all of this is why I do feel so loved. Why in return I adore him still and am constantly amazed I have managed to not only be in relationship but live with someone so long. I say so long because I never thought I would even have the capacity to be married, truly. I thought I would fail somehow, run the person off, cut them within an inch of their life with my tongue, but God has been so faithful and loving in giving me Andrew. I am so rich.

But I really do need to start hiking.

I've been missing him lately. We have only been meeting lips and noses and toes as we fall into bed together at around 11:30 each night. On Monday and Wednesday I managed to go have lunch with him at work as this is my last week before my 23 credit term, split between PCC and PSU=no life. Even today I was going to ride along with him as he did pick ups for work, and then hang out this evening. Instead, I am going over to a friend's because I have a feeling something is a brewing with her and her boyfriend of going on 2 years, and I want her to have the opportunity to spill.

I did have plans with Melika until 3 seconds ago, which I just cancelled, because dammit-I want to see my husband.

The funny thing is, I don't ever even really know what exactly it is I want to do. I find the most joy when we're actually doing nothing, like sitting next to each other on the couch holding hands and watching a movie. Maybe I'll get him to do yoga with me tonight....which would be a serious feat considering he has the dexterity of a 75 year old man.

One.More.Day. of double dose prednisone, and I am not sad at all whatsoever to see it go.

This post was more supposed to be about the amazingness of my husband, how grateful I am to have him in my life, what an amazing support system he is. How when I'm there for my friends going through crisis he has his phone in his hand the entire time waiting for me to call him should I need him. That he says the exact right thing at all the exact right times. That he looks damn good naked...that I am afraid something big and world changing will happen in the next few years and the thing I'm most afraid of is that I'll lose him.

So I am constantly reminding myself that I am far more important than the birds.

Did I mention though, his wonderfully kissable lips? ;)

It all becomes so muddled when your brain is befuddled by medical accomplishments that really just stretch your tenants and all you want to do is sleep all day and play all night and laugh in the face of those with their false might but instead you take the recommendations and swallow them with commendation and quantify the results with false joy and snide insults while praying that it all ends well you begin to notice your loss of smell but at least you can hear the mower of the man on the property lower through the two inch crack in your window that a week ago you wouldn't know-was there.

No tumor. Started prednisone two days ago. My brain is foggy but my hearing is clear-this is a good sign. Vacation was amazing. My predictions for the actions of the friendship lost and her subsequent choices were not only confirmed but far exceeded. I know she is hurting. I know there is loss. I understand it is hard for all parties involved. I just really had come to a point where I realized that it was a relationship in which her pain so eclipsed that of the people she called "friends" that she was no longer actually in relationship with me. She said she didn't want me to be her therapist. Yet all she wanted me to do was listen and listen and listen and if my opinion conflicted with hers to keep it to myself....kind of like a therapist would do. A friend of mine recently started seeing a therapist that I recommended to them, and one day said therapist asked me how I was doing while supporting my friend through her experience. I said that it is hard to know the "correct" thing to say, the healthy psychological thing to say, when all I want to do is tell my friend that the person causing her so much pain is an asshole and toxic and not to take their shit anymore.

He said to me "that is the luxury you have as a friend-you get to say how and what and why you feel. As their therapist, I can only give the "correct" answer." So I ended something that no longer was a friendship. When I stopped being the therapist she supposedly didn't want, I was then too much for her. If someone wants my professional advice, actions, and opinions-they can pay me. The rest of my friends know who I am and respect that. I am comfortable with all of this, regardless of the fact that I know the woman I hurt is sensitive, regardless of the fact that even though I am hurt and angry I am sorry that I am hurting her so deeply. Above all, I am sad that it is irreparable. Especially after a comment about how I am "treating her like I treat my mother." Some people have big cohones, some people are ignorant uneducated assholes. I for the most part choose not to associate with the latter.

Also, a side effect of the new medication is euphoria. I laughed through a three minute voicemail on Melika's phone yesterday and only realized after hanging up that it was 100% due to the medication. This is still funny to me.

Sometimes it all bubbles to the surface, and you let it.

Clank. Click. Clank. Click. Clank.....

For 45 minutes they say "don't move. at all." So you don't. You try to focus on the grey strip, the white of the tube, but if you do that for too long you realize that you're inside of a very small space and that nobody can hear you scream. Instead you close your eyes and realize that this sounds, through the ear plugs, through the headphones playing a radio station you picked and instantly regretted, extremely similar to the test from the audiology and vestibular lab. The one where they stick this little goopy wad of cotton-like substance into your ear, then plug a wire into it, and then it clickclickclickclick-s for about fifteen minutes a cycle.

Similar, but different. Before they were just testing your hearing, your sense of balance, the pressure inside of your ear. Today, they're looking for a tumor.

The hearing tests come back making statements like "Heather is crazy. Her hearing is fine. Ignore her frustration and situation because it is all in her head." Fortunately, my doctor told that damn test to shut up and wrote me a prescription for a tumor shrinking medicine, but told me not to take it until he called me after the MRI. The MRI including a dye used specifically for finding acoustic neuromas.

So now I just wait. I called this morning as he had said I could call the day after the test, but apparently he doesn't get in until this afternoon. More waiting. The tumors are almost always benign, and are treatable. Each treatment carries risks, as does all surgery or radiation, but at least we would finally know. Meniere's never felt right. Maybe it is, but this would make far more sense.

Onto other news: Grow the hell up. If you're going to talk about how I am stunted and going nowhere, quit acting like a fucking child yourself. You're upset because people have opinions? Join the Amish community. You like being surrounded by people who are going to lie to your face and tell you just what you want to hear? Continue to shut out all the people who have held your hand through the tough shit. Who know what a facade you put on all the time and don't care. Quit calling, quit caring, and by ALL MEANS-PLEASE talk about them behind their backs. Make bold statements that you know nothing about, since you've been so damn successful yourself, and then get upset if they ever confront you. Tell all of the people that are still a part of your life(your relatives. you have managed to run off the few friends you had) what a victim you are. How it's so sad that nobody supports you anymore, nobody wants to spend time with you. Guess we should all eat worms. I am so. beyond. angry. at you right now. I am so.beyond.frustrated. that you of all people could help me right now. that I was there.every.day for a very long time and tried to help you the best that I could with the resources I had, and your statements compared me to someone who is a moocher to the core and has never done anything of substance. Fuck you. Truly. You were there when I worked for an international company at the age of 20. You were there when I made more money than your husband was when he was working two jobs. You were there when I finally had the option to go back to school. However, you have not been a part of my success in school because I simply did not have enough of the "right" kind of attention for you because I have been SO DAMN BUSY MAKING SOMETHING OF MY SHITTY LIFE THAT I HAVEN'T BEEN TOO CONCERNED WITH CONGRATULATING YOUR MOST RECENT PREGNANCY. I'M SORRY THAT YOU NEEDED IT SO BADLY. I'M ALSO SORRY THAT EVEN YOU ARE BEGINNING TO RECOGNIZE THAT YOU'RE NOT MAKING THE RIGHT CHOICES ABOUT THINGS, BUT STILL FEEL THE NEED TO PROVE IT TO THE REST OF US THAT YOU ARE. Be angry at me. Never talk to me again. What-the-fuck-ever. I'm so over it that it hurts girl. Honest.

Avoiding Cleaning All Day Long

My amazing husband had a week between jobs last week, that he intentionally created might I add, just so that he could get stuff done around the house. He weeded, sawed limbs, mowed, pressure washed, burned, sweated, and even did ALL OF THE LAUNDRY.....if you have been to my house in the past, oh, since we got married-you know this is a major feat. He is unstoppable.

In repayment lest I be the worst wife in history because my husband literally does everything, I am to attack the duty of cleaning the entire house today. Bleck. I hate housework. I promise you, I would really hire someone to do it. I would pay them a lot more than minimum wage, so that they would actually be getting a fair wage for their service, but I sure as heck would pay someone.

School is donezo and I got a 3.36 for this term....mildly disappointing as I was really hoping that I my ASL class would be an easy A/GPA booster, unfortunately I signed the wrong sign repetitively in my final expressive exam=B.

I'm very honestly hoping I can take these last two weeks before Belize to spend a lot of time alone. Let my brain rest. I'll see people when I get back, but until then I'd REALLY just like to do a whole lot of nothing.

After I clean the house that is.

Vegan Consideration

It's healthy. It's healthy. It's healthy. It's been said to be the best decision anyone can make for their family due to the health benefits. Lower chance of cancer, obesity(and therefore diabetes among other things), and depression.

Andrew's aunt Bev had cancer 5 times before her doctor put her on a vegan diet. Since then, she's been cancer free. Not a coincidence.

So I'm thinking about it. It would be a HUGE change though so I'm not jumping into anything, but I'm very seriously leaning towards yes.

In other news: summer term is over and it feels so gooooood! Each term I get closer to graduating I feel more and more that I am in fact accomplishing something even though it feels eternal. I'm only 23, but considering the rest of my friends are now working on getting into grad school, my measly little Bachelors seems pretty insignificant. I also know though that all of those people either had their college paid for by their parents, or lived/live at home. They were not wards of the state, they do not come from the same background, they did not work at a multinational corporation before returning to school, and even with their degrees I made more money than most of them are currently at age 20. I also married the most amazing man on the planet who loves me even when it's hard.

So I don't feel so bad. At least I'm not uneducated and popping out a bunch of kids, doomed to a life of bitterness and anger at other people's success. The main ending point for most people with my background.

Belize is in less than three weeks!!!! SO EXCITED!!!!

Also, currently in love with Rae. Seriously. Her family is amazing, despite their humanity, and I appreciate that she is so close. It is going to seriously suck balls when she moves back to no po.

The end.

No poo is so awesome I'm not even going to post about it because it is no longer an experiment and just a choice that we make in my house :)

Today we started the discussion of ending all these contraceptive games and just having my tubes tied. I'm gung ho. Andrew said it would be wise to think about it for a second.

Along with a need to inflict pain right now(and I haven't quite figured this one out...no idea. Things are good with my mom, which is generally the cause. My marriage rocks, school is good, friendships are what they always are-ever changing. I'm stumped)I am ITCHING to get another tattoo. Our wallet is also STRAINING to gather the monies together for Belize so we can immediately pay off the balance on our card once the charge is made. Regardless, I now have an idea for a back MURAL....but below my dress line so it would just be mostly for Andrew and I to see...and a few cute and subtle birdy silhouettes on my shoulder. We shall see...

Margo is really sick. I don't really want to talk about it. While the thought has crossed my mind, my need for self-mutilation did present itself before Margo was rushed to the ER on Tuesday. She is at home now and recovering, but still weak and her life is irrevocably changed.

Have I mentioned that I love my husband? I could write a novel(and someday I just might) about how wonderful and amazing he is. I did want to poop on his pillow tonight during a little tussle we had this afternoon....but it passed along with my anger. Maybe after his friends go home we can make up.

I want to write more. Not blog writing, but the kind of writing I wouldn't be ashamed to send somewhere for someone to judge and possibly pay me for(in 9 million years). Trouble is, figuring out what to write about. There's so many unwrittens in my head that I have a hard time sorting through them and placing them appropriately with their plots, climaxes, and epilogues. We'll see how it all goes. If I become rich and pseudo-famous: Don't ask me for money. I'll probably give it to you and that just wouldn't be very nice of you.

I love Portland in the summer. It makes me forget what a mess it is all year.

Day 4 No Poo

So I washed my hair last night with the baking soda/cider vinegar process....My hair feels AMAZING!!! My head itches a tiny bit, but I think I just let the baking soda sit for too long. My hair doesn't smell-Andrew was shocked. Especially considering the conditioning agent is vinegar...

Applying to New Seasons(you know, because I'm such a hippie now) because it is literally like 6 minutes from my house, starts at 10.00 an hour, and I've heard that part-timers get benefits. This could basically be the coolest thing ever. We'll see how it all goes, my fingers are definitely crossed.

Anywho, need to go study. Have an exam tomorrow in my political science class, and my final receptive exam for my ASL class...which I don't think I'm ready for. Agh.

After a two minute convo with Rae....

I have decided to go shampoo free. Yes. Really. It's been two days, but whenever I say it out loud it does freak me out. I mean, I'm the girl who will spend over $130.00 getting her hair done, and not even bat an eyelash at a $70.00 TRIM....I buy $20.00 HAIRSPRAY and to begin to discuss the amount of money I have spent trying to find the right shampoo and conditioner would be absolutely horrifying. So I won't.

Regardless, I'm quitting shampoo. I've read extensively now online, and am extremely excited to see what happens. It's summer anyway, if it sucks, nobody will really notice. I wear my hair in braids constantly now anyway.

I do however, oddly, feel cleaner. Like I'm committing to something that is better for me, and our septic tank. Then again, it could be the fact that because my husband is a STUD and got me a commercial-grade Schwinn spin bike(retail: approx. $3800.00....for FREE!!! He works at a place, begged some people shamelessly for 6 months, made my dream come true.)and the working out makes me happier in general, but I feel better. I'm more aware of when I get "full" and I'm simply elated to be alive. *Sunshine is very obviously good for me*

So here I am, day two of nopoo and my hair is doing pretty well. I am still using conditioner, but will wean that out in a week or so and switch to solely cider vinegar and baking soda. I'll keep you posted, don't worry ;)

And then you see photos of that boy you knew so long ago, but he's different. In his eyes there is more sadness, the smiles are less wide. You can see the love she has for him in the way she presses her lips so hard against his cheek and ends each sentence about their trip to Jamaica with .....

But you have discussed how he feels about her with him, and it won't last forever. She too will end up like the rest of you-discarded and deeply in love. For a moment you want to warn her, to help her, but you know that it is too late. Too late and you secretly hate her because she is living the life you always thought you would have, but in your dream it had a better ending. You also know that the trips he takes with her are not long, that he would rather take the long trips with his friends and roommates. When pressed for a why he responded, "I can only stand to be around her for short amounts of time. Anything longer than 6 days and I need a break."

So you stop hating her and feel sorry for her, again. But in that sorrow you begin to pity yourself. Because even though you were the first, and according to him the only thus far(a lie you want to believe), there had to be some of the same things said about you to someone. And you know who that someone was. Then you begin to question it all-the authenticity of the years to follow, the promises never made but repeatedly alluded to, the things he said to make sure that you knew how he felt but "couldn't act on" then....

After all of these steps, and a few more, in a never ending cycle you beg the question that you continually come to: Why do you still care? Why did you even feel the urge to look at the photos? Was any of it real in the first place?....

But he said it was all real, just a couple of months ago. He said that it was, and swears you still are the only one he's ever uttered those words to, that everything changed when you got engaged to the most amazing man and husband you have ever known, that it now doesn't matter what it was because you changed it. You made your choice. Not to wait, to wonder, to ponder, to question-anymore.

Yet here you are. Again. Knowing deep down that this cycle may never end. Last night you promised yourself that you would never speak to him again, never think of him. That you would write him(again) telling him that you would do those two things. Except he respects that decision(every.time.you.make.it.) and in the end you are the one that caves and contacts him.

All of it because what happened then, when you were both children, was so pure. There was never a hint of inauthenticity until it just wasn't anymore. It ended because you had committed to something before he was there and it was too late to confess that you had as the cliche says you will-fallen in love at 16. You read over and over and over again that the first one never goes away, try to find comfort in that. Knowing that millions of others go on to do what you have done, what he will do, marry someone else and build a life separate of each other.

But it still feels like a tear, like a separation. You never want to vocalize that deep down incentive to repeat this cycle because you know it is crazy. You know that your husband is a gift from God and that the grass is always greener. You know that he is not anymore that young, pure, goldlight of the morning boy he was. He is instead now jaded, world traveled, successful(in the ugly way, the fluorescent light and dinner at your boss' house kind of way), and still holding all of those hearts that want to love him at arms length. Which again, you try to find comfort and hope in, but you don't.

Instead you write and write and write and write until your wrists hurt, you want to cry, and you feel like you have cheated on your gift from God and wonder if a bottle of wine will help(which is doesn't and therefore does not find it's way into your hand and belly).

Vulnerability is reckless. To admit that the insecurities I gained from this boy have molded everything I have turned into and pursued would be embarrassing. To admit that I repeat this cycle at least four times a year is shameful. Sometimes they say that if you say something out loud, reveal it to someone it is easier to relinquish.

Here's hoping.

Just got my acceptance letter to the Child and Family Studies/School of Social Work at PSU!!!! Only 30 accepted per term/90 a year!! :) I know that's a lot, kind of, but think about it this way: Only about double what OHSU accepts each class....I'm kind of a big deal. I'm just saying.

I'M SO EXCITED!!!!!!!!! :)

Sunshine and Rainbows

Life is good. My face is clearing up (hallelujah!), the sun is shining, I drop my passport name change form off today for BELIZE IN THREE MONTHS!!!!, I'm having girl time with Angela (more in a moment), followed by class and possibly a meet up after at Last Thursday. Classes are pretty good. Philosophy of Religion is quite a lot for my brain to absorb, and my ASL 201 teacher is a different person than I had for the last three classes and he signs FAST. Like whoah. Taking my second Poli. Sci. class (Nicko shout-out) which has been extremely beneficial thus far in helping understand what avenues would be necessary to massage to get anything done...and there are none. ;)

I still feel daily the loss of my mother even though she's only a text or phone call away. I sent her a novel of an email almost two months ago explaining the depth of my feelings and why it isn't as easy to just "forgive and forget" as she thinks. She still hasn't found the time to respond.

Bible study/Home Community has been AMAZING!!!! We have finally found some couples with no babies/kids(no offense to you mothers, but we all know that it is increasingly difficult for us to hang out because unless your children are old enough to entertain themselves for a couple of hours-I have nothing to entertain them with other than my husband...lol), who LOVE to camp and hike and kayak and raft and float the river and be outdoorsy....which we haven't really gotten to do the past year and a half because while we love each other it is far more fun with other people and we didn't know any other people who liked to do those things. There are two couples in particular that we're drawn to, and one of them is Alex and Angela.

So now I'm going to talk about Angela. She's just kind of amazing...at first glance she's a lot like me-gets along better with the boys, seems pretty chill(I say seems because hello-very rarely am I ever that), very opinionated, etc. But the nice thing about her is-we're very different. She was home schooled and feels that stunted her social and emotional growth so she's actually extremely shy, and that's why she doesn't talk to girls much because it takes more involvement/intimacy. (Julie-not taking a stab at you, she authentically feels this way) The whole time I thought I was the one being awkward because I have such a hard time in group social settings where I don't really know the people, and I have such an intense fear of rejection that I tend to stick to people I know...but it was both of us. So we laughed about both of our fears and then told each other our life stories over coffee and today we're going on a walk at Mt. Tabor! She's pretty, Biblically wise, attends church/is a part of an active community-which as my friends get busier and older it gets harder for them to do/actively pursue, she's fun and a good influence on me, and she's vulnerable and open. There's a million more things-like the fact that her husband Alex and Andrew get along like beans and rice, but I'm mostly just amazed and God's unfailing love when I spend time with her.

I have been praying so hard lately for a friend I can just spend time with. I'm really not meaning to offend the mamas, really, but all of my local married friends-literally-have babies or children. It is so hard to have girl time with them because of this. I understand that someday I too will have children and will understand the fact that you learn to work around it-but I'm not there right now. I'm not and barring God's plan being drastically different than what I feel He's been telling me-I won't be any time soon. I just want someone who can whenever we feel like planning it-make a coffee date in the middle of the afternoon. Or grab her husband and go to the river with Andrew and I. On that note-someone who's husband and mine actually have more than two things in common so they can do things to entertain each other while we're hanging out. Who can sit with me and read the Bible, because I so desperately need more actively engaged believing friends, or watch a stupid movie and laugh. I need a friend who needs me as well. So we'll see what happens and where it goes-but I'm kind of girl crushing on the possibility of this awesome friendship.

My meniere's sucks, but such is life. Right now I am dizzy, and I feel like my hands are about a mile from my face, so typing is slightly difficult...lol. It's kind of like being high sometimes. But not in a fun way ;) My left ear is so spotty as far as noise reception that I sometimes appear to be ignoring people to my left-I simply cannot tell that the noise they're making is directed at me. Andrew is really hopeful because there are new types of hearing aids, so that could be cool. I think he just doesn't want to learn sign with me ;)

Whitney-come visit me mkay? We'll read books in the grass and drink tea in the evening.

I am a procrastinator to the core....agh....I LOVE putting things off, but hate the exhaustion that follows...I have about five million things I need to get done today, which sucks because it is my last day before summer term starts and the sun is shining.

I'm going to move fast ;)

It's Official

I have meniere's. I cried about it a while ago, and now it's just like this really crappy waiting game:

-will it get worse?

-is this it?

-will I fall into the category who start out unilateral and move to bilateral hearing loss?

-will I need hearing aids, or worse?

I wouldn't be so dramatic aside from the fact that the average age to "get" Meniere's is between 30-50.

Positives:

-we know what's wrong with me (at last. I want to go back to those two witches who treated me like an obese cow-sighting my weight as the "real problem.")

-we can figure out what to do

-we know what to expect, sort of

-I am now on a medication. Water pill, supposed to maintain healthy fluid levels, all it's doing is making me nauseous. Gross. Mark that as a positive/negative, thus far.

-We're going to really push the landlord to let us get a dog now. I have a "medical" reason for one. I've been finding that I am increasingly afraid to be alone at the house overnight, or even alone at the house after dark because I'm not hearing the little things. Like if there were someone outside I'm not hearing the little noises. I also for the life of me cannot hear the kitchen timer in the other room, or in most cases-someone knocking. So if you come over-ring the doorbell. Anywho, I want a dog. A guard dog. And a gun....but a dog first. Training a dog takes more time than purchasing a gun.

-I'm not crazy.

-I was right in my self diagnosis-I love it when I'm right :)

Aside from all of that we're just settling into it. Andrew refused to accept it until the doctor said so(smart man) because of what this could actually mean for us. I have started to realize that I've had tinnitis for a while, I just don't notice it anymore, until I think about it. I had thought for quite a long time that silence had a sound....just a realllly high pitched single tone sound....Andrew told me I'm wrong. So I can hear it whenever I think to notice it now, and now I find it really annoying....lol. Which means I just don't think about it often. And I'm moving on...

School re-starts in 1.5 weeks, and I'm not excited. I need the credits, but I'm not excited. I'm trying to find a good balance between resting and getting ready for the term, and seeing friends. We'll see how that goes.

Progress

So I went to take three and a half hours of testing on Thursday, and afterwards the audiologist said that I still need to go back and get a proper diagnosis from my doctor, but that he'll most definitely put me on a low-sodium diet. That I have fluid retention in my ear and that I'll probably also be put on a diuretic. Finally there is an actual answer/reason for my hearing loss, dizziness, nausea(which after seeing the doctors I now know is actual vertigo...lol), fogginess, and confusion in public.

*Julie-one of the questions I actually had to answer on the pre-appointment survey was: Do you feel dizzy in malls/grocery stores? I was SO EXCITED because now I know that when I fell down the stairs at the mall that one time it wasn't because I'm retardedly clumsy-I've got a disease...lol.

When I got home I started searching low-sodium diets, and came upon the only disease that has all of my symptoms with a low-sodium diet order: Meniere's Disease. I still need to have the MRI before it is definitive, but my doctor had told me the first day that he was almost positive I was going to need one anyway...so I go in to see him sometime this week or next, and move forward.

It's really no big deal, it can be managed. And I'm already learning sign language ;) Andrew always tells me I'm a fatalist when I say that, but he recognizes it's a big enough deal that he's going to start taking ASL again in the Fall....lol.

I do find comfort in the fact that I'm not a total bitch. Here's why: When I get overwhelmed in social situations, can't socially function in loud environments, get extremely fatigued quickly when I'm around others-it's not because I'm a terrible person-my body is freaking out. If I talk to you anytime soon and you ask me about it, I'll explain the science behind it, but that would take forever to type and I already look like my great aunt Jeannie with the medical rundown here so....

I wikied Meniere's for you in case you were curious: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Ménière's_disease

Loves.

I am so very nervous. Today I send out my application for the Child and Family Studies/Social Work program.

While I know that I am an ideal candidate, I am still wary of my essay capabilities, scared that I screwed up on the actual application part. Afraid that even though my references said they had so much more to say and could add an additional letter to the "rec form," that I told them not to worry about it because the program contact sounded so casual.

I'm also nervous because if I get it-it is all actually happening. Like I'll actually finally be a Junior this fall, and starting my double major. There can be talking until the sun falls out of the sky, but it is scary when you have to start putting your money where your mouth is. I also hate waiting. I wish it were as simple as receiving my application, reading it, and then sending me an email saying "you're in!!!!" Instead I'll have to wait for a while. A long while.

Also looked at the information for Americorps. Once again though I am met with the thought that if I am going to do something like that, an underappreciated job with little resources, I might as well just get paid fully. I'll have the degrees to do so when this undergraduate is done....

ALSO-one of the women in my home community works for the Child and Family Services division for the state...or something like that....and she told me that as soon as I want an internship with the state, she'll have one waiting! Which is kind of baller if you ask me.

Anyway, I need to do my statistics homework and go to the post office to mail that packet and water the plant and clean the house and get ready for HC tonight. So I should get started.

Something Old, but still something New

I sometimes just want to start a new blog, one that is solely and completely about the few things I'm passionate about:

In no particular order

-adoption(everywhere)

-love

-gay rights

-tattoos...oh how funny that I even list this

-feminism

-Portland, OR(as if the above did not make that boldly apparent)

-Jesus

-holding the hurting

I found my life verse last night-yes-I used that ever so catchy Christian phrase "life verse" as if though I will connect deeply with only one verse in my lifetime and use it as the cornerstone for all actions...which I would mock incessantly if I had not come across this last night....I was reading Proverbs 31 and pondering the impossibility of such a woman, and if she did exist you would not want to know her-why? Because she doesn't have time to love anyone. She cannot build relationships with people because she's running all over the place establishing her business and making clothes for her family. She is impossible. I also appreciated the fact that she somehow managed to simultaneously maintain this successful financial venture while waking up at the wee hours of the morning to tend to her family....and they praise her, oh boy do they ever, cause if I were her-I'd expect a freaking national holiday. You also have to imagine you are one of this woman's children, or even worse-her husband. How often would she forget to pick you up after school because she was doing, oh I don't know, a million billion other things. How often would the two of you get a moment together to focus on your marriage?...I know a few women who are like this, and I promise you-sometimes I think God would prefer for them to rest a moment and just breathe. Breathe love on everyone around them instead of running around like a chicken with her head cut off trying to prove to the world she's so Godly.

I digress-I was pondering the sheer insanity of the fact that millions of God loving women in this world aspire to this very burnt out woman's status when I came across the verse right before it:

Proverbs 31:8-9

NET

"Open your mouth on behalf of the those unable to speak, for the legal rights of all the dying. Open your mouth, judge in righteousness, and plead the cause of the poor and needy."

KJV

"Open thy mouth for the dumb in the cause of all such as are appointed to destruction. Open thy mouth, judge righteously, and plead the cause of the poor and needy."

NKJV

"Open your mouth for the speechless, in the cause of all who are appointed to die. Open your mouth, judge righteously, and plead the cause of the poor and needy."

NIV

"Speak up for those who cannot speak for themselves, for the rights of all who are destitute. Speak up and judge fairly; defend the rights of the poor and needy."

NLT

"Speak up for those who cannot speak for themselves; ensure justice for those who are perishing. Yes, speak up for the poor and the helpless, and see that they get justice."

Andrew was being such an awesome lover husband when I walked in the door last night after class, cooking dinner, and he set down the spatula in his hand when I read that verse and said "that's totally you."

So at least I'm not just a loud mouthed bitch who is running around with no aim, trying to speak for those who have no homes, no family, nobody to love, no rights, no hope. I find comfort in that. Even though I make 100% of the people I speak to about any of the things God has placed on my heart uncomfortable, regardless of how politically correct I am when I say them, I know that there is no shame in my game.

Slam Dunk. Also-I'm sure there will only be about 700,000 people who will be offended by this. I apologize ahead of time.

Today while sitting in statistics class and learning about the possibility of genetically passing on a disease to children, I realized something very large and monumentally impact full in my life:

I have been feeling those tugs lately. Not uterus tugs like most women, where a baby is imminent in the future, but just motherhood tugs. We are going to start hosting our home community in a week, and so have begun cleaning the house and getting rid of things, making room for the change. I FINALLY cleaned the spare room/closet room and now it resembles something other than a tornado struck pit of despair. When I look into that room with the blinds open, the floor gleaming, and the bed and table set up-I see a bedroom for my future child. As camp approaches(and if I have your address I will be sending you a letter asking for support....money....help....lol. No worries if you can't.) we have been going to training. Yet again Andrew is not sure if he'll be able to go, but like last year I keep reminding him that God is bigger than we are, and if He wants Andrew at camp, Andrew will be at camp. So he has been going to training with me. Listening to the facts all over again, being reminded of the depravity surrounding these children all over again, makes me want to quit my life plan and adopt 100 of them.

My wonderfully wise husband however frequently reminds me to be patient. So I try. But in class this morning as I could feel God working in my heart, on my heart, preparing me for what is to come He told me this earth shaking truth-if we are going to adopt an older child in a few years, our child, our baby, our family-has already been born. Is living right now in a world and a situation that is painful, scary, damaging, and lonely. I realized that I need to start now praying for them. Praying protection over them, praying for strength for them, praying that when the time comes for them to come home with us that they will have a heart open to being loved.

So I'm asking you to pray for them as well, my little fragile child. I know with conviction that they are already out there, experiencing the hardships that will bring them to me. Which I know sounds terrible, and if there were a way to avoid the hard part I would-but I can only do good with what satan will destroy, and I can only shed light where there has been darkness as God's hands...I know that there is something far larger than I will ever begin to comprehend happening in this, and so I just pray and wait until the moment when I know. So please please pray with me, just as I hope that someone was praying for me when I was alone.

Aside from that everything else is small potatoes...so couch hunting, HC moving to our house, and Cirque de Soleil this week are all happening, but nothing is as significant as this revelation.

Loves.

A Mother's Love (part 2 I think?...)

My mother and I had been going back and forth for a couple of months about her visit to me, when I realized a week ago that I am actually off school for her birthday, and could come down for a week. This is what followed:

So after discussing this at length with Kenny it just won't work for you to come here and stay until you and Kenny resolve your animosity towards each other. What happened during our visit there for your wedding was not good and you and I have at least been able to move beyond it and have a relationship. Kenny has not had any resolution or discussion with you about this and he feels that you hate him and have not apologized to him for what was done and said. You also need to realize that I am happy with Kenny and am staying with him. I am not moving back to Washington, I am not looking for anyone else in my life. I love you and want you to be able to come and visit me but it is his house too and I can't force him to be uncomfortable around you. I am sorry it is this way, I really want both of you in my life and it is very difficult to be in between the two of you.

Love,

Mom

This was my response, before I cried, before my mother-in-law drove allllll the way to my house just so "I know I deserve a momma hug"....She really is wonderful, no matter how hard I try to push her away because I don't believe in mothers:

I don't even know what to say to you right now. So I'll keep it short:

Thank you for putting another man before me.

Thank you for not realizing that Andrew too dislikes you, feels no resolution in his relationship with you, but loves me so much that he put that aside while you were here visiting this summer.

Thank you for proving to me that regardless of how much hope I have for you, you will never love me the way that I deserve.

Oh, and Kenny can fuck himself. To tell you that you have to accommodate his feelings toward your child while his LIVE WITH YOU!?!?!?!??! At least you have Cam and Christ now, what do you need me for?

Have a wonderful summer. I don't think I'll be able to talk to you for a while(again). I am so at a loss that you would do this to me again Mom. I really thought you had come to a point where you were strong enough to separate the men in your life from your daughter, even if it meant taking a little bit of flack from a man to see me. But why would it change now? Robert told you to get rid of me, and you did. Frank told me to move out because I was the only source of conflict in your marriage, and you had nothing to say. Why would Kenny be any different.

I am so hurt, and in turn so angry, I am more angry with myself above anything because I keep giving you chances and keep overlooking the fact that you don't say you're sorry, and keep wanting things that you will never be able to give me regardless of some stupid sappy email you sent me last Christmas that you have already rescinded.

Oh, and thank you for at least having the decency to call me and tell me this.

Heather.

When I was younger I wanted to be a writer.

I have a feeling that this is not shocking at all, but I just wanted to say it today. It is so interesting to me that somewhere along the way I quit trying to be extraordinary when it came to constructing sentences, and started to worry more about just word vomiting with my hands on a keyboard.

I am so grateful for my new Home Community. Last night I got to talk with three of the other women(really? not girls anymore?), and it was so encouraging. We talked about how in the past each of us has had some bad experiences with other women in the church, and so we carry scars now that build walls of trepidation. It was refreshing to know that I am not alone, and that I don't have to walk by myself.

Also something to note: my largest goal, the one that Andrew and I have decided we will spend our lives working toward, is to run a camp for foster children. Last night the girl that I have hit it off with the most was telling me the story of her and her husband, and it led up to a point where a wealthy friend of her father's has some land near Orca's Island and wants to turn it into a Christian camp, wants them to run it for him....

Right then and there I told this stranger that if she needs help Andrew and I will sell everything we own, drop out of school, and go and run this camp with her and her husband. No lie.

Afterwards Andrew and I discussed it and we would. Mostly because God is good and the best things that have ever happened to me came from situations like that, but also because it would be so much easier to just skip to the good part-the part we're called to.

I would just pee my pants and explode with excitement if it happens. Could you imagine?

Sometimes when you think that the only thing you can do is work and work and work and work to get something, God shows up with the thing you're toiling for all wrapped in a bow(Andrew). Here's to hoping He's early for my birthday this year! ;)

On the Up and Up

Things have been good lately. Not that anything much has changed, just me. Oh and the fact that we found a home community we love (some parts more than others), and have started going back to Imago...well, we are going back to Imago but maaaaay have missed yesterday because we went car shopping. After which we decided that we just need to be a bit more patient and save just a little more so we can just buy the right car outright.

I had this dream last night, it was terrible. In the dream I was married to Andrew, but I had been away from him working or volunteering or something for a couple of months, and about half way through the separation "he" showed up. And we spent all of our time together, and talked until the wee hours of the morning, and just had fun. We stayed in a room with 3 other people, all of us on the same trip/project/whatever, and one of them being his best friend. I shared a bed with another girl, so no funny business ever happened, but it was still kinda sketch. One morning he and I woke up earlier than everyone else and went out for breakfast where we sat together at an outdoor cafe and read the paper(just like I always imagined it would be). When we snuck back into the room before everyone else woke up, his friend rolled over and said

"Oh girly girl-you are living in a dream. This will all come crumbling down around you in a matter of seconds."

While he and I sat there silently feeling the shame of being known, Andrew burst in the door, looked at us(not caring that there were other people there) and in shock said the words "I see how it is. Ok!," then turned around and walked out.

I ran after him. He wouldn't look at me. I felt like I was chasing my home, the one who actually matters, that the other guy was so irrelevant that I didn't even stop to look at him before I ran after my amazing husband...he finally stopped and I admitted that I was wrong, but that nothing had happened(physically). He accepted it and we talked it through, but it was so gut-wrenchingly real that I woke up with my stomach in a huge knot and covered in sweat.

It's a good thing that my dreams are so vivid-they teach me the reality of things that I would never be able take back.

My husband is sexy hot.