DNC Watch Party

One amazing, inspiring nominee +

the Democratic National Convention on the big screen +

a room full of hundreds of cheering, chanting people +

a speech filled with things I've waited years for someone to say +

the most racially integrated event I have ever experienced in
one of the most segregated of all U.S. cities =

more than one reason to feel hope, to believe in the power of change, and to be so glad that I didn't miss it.

Migraines

This morning, I got up as scheduled, spent an hour or so at the gym, and got ready for work. I had showered, put on make-up, ironed my clothes, gotten dressed, packed my lunch, and was literally on my way out the door when the all-too-familiar sensation of wavy lines and spotty vision started. I tried to ignore it for ten or fifteen seconds, but I've had enough experience to know that ignoring it never works. I put my lunch back in the fridge, changed into my pajamas, e-mailed my boss, plopped on the couch, and waited for the headache, sour stomach, and light/noise sensitivity to begin.

Migraines have been a part of my life for so many years that I've just come to accept them as a part of it. I've spent a good deal of energy cursing them, stressing about them, and begging them to go away. My migraines have left me in horrible states. When Dan and I were dating, I remember calling him and just bursting into tears as soon as he answered the phone because I was experiencing such an awful state of pain that I didn't know what else to do. I've slept on the bathroom floor because the bathroom was the only room in the house dark enough, and it saved me trips to throw up. I've scrambled to leave work as soon as vision problems started so I could make the drive home in time, only to throw up as soon as I made it through the front door. My migraines have cost me a Christmas party at Dan's work a couple of years ago, a visit with my father-in-law in February, and countless other events and occasions, not to mention the lovely experience I had of a migraine during a 10-hour ride to Georgia in 2006, complete with throwing up in the car (nice, huh?).

In graduate school, I had the panic-inducing experience of a migraine that not only produced the usual symptoms, but also resulted in numbness of my face, lips, and right arm. Feeling the numbness crawl slowly across my body was one of the scariest things I've ever experienced. I was diagnosed with a complicated migraine and informed that I should not take any migraine medications due to an increased risk of stroke when complicated migraines and meds are combined. It was at that point that I knew there would never be a magic pill to fix my migraines, no hope of an instant cure. Each time a migraine came on, I would be left on my own to tackle the beast.

Today's migraine was a relatively gentle one. I had a bad headache, but it wasn't horrible, and I managed not to throw up, which was a relief since I threw up six times in a matter of hours during my last migraine. I was parked in front of the couch all day until about 4:30, alternately sleeping, dozing, and watching TV.

In the past couple of years, my migraines have generally become less frequent and less severe. My family history seems to indicate that the older I get, the less likely I will be to experience them (it's nice to have something to look forward to as I age). :) I have to admit, though, that there is a little piece of me that is grateful to them. I usually get migraines when I am stressed, when I am not taking good enough care of myself, when I am not sleeping enough or eating right. I think, more than anything else, my migraines are my body's way of demanding me to STOP. Often, when I have a migraine, I can do little more than just be. I can't read, because I can't see well, and I often can't watch TV, because the light and noise are too much. Getting off the couch or out of bed is usually an insurmountable task. I'm forced to just stop and be with myself. That is not something I do often enough.

I can't say that I'm glad to have migraines, because there are many times when they are truly awful. But today, a little part of me was grateful for the opportunity to just be, and to do so guilt-free. When my stomach was ready, I ate a few snacks. I sat with my cats. I slept. I watched "The Price is Right" (which makes me think fondly of my grandparents) and spent most of the afternoon watching "Anne of Avonlea," one of those movies that kind of brings me back to myself. Despite the pain and the sensitive stomach, it was a good day. A day that I couldn't seem to make for myself, so my body made it for me. And, for that, I can't help but give a little bit of thanks.

Accomplished Today

Absolutely nothing.

Ahhh.

What Is Beautiful?

The sky. Every hour of the day it's different. It's fluid, graceful, elegant. Any time you look at it, it's restorative. And it doesn't demand anything from you. When I look up, I think, Wow, sky. I should do that more often.

--A.M. Homes

Hooray!

I am on my way right now to pick up Ashley from the airport, after which time much eating and laughing and window shopping and Olympics viewing and sightseeing and general good times will ensue. I can hardly wait!

Olympics Commentary

• Am I the only one who sometimes secretly roots for the Chinese athletes out of fear that, if they lose, they will commit suicide? Seriously, the Chinese men's gymnastics coach said he would jump off the tallest building in Beijing if they didn't win gold, and I believe him.

• There is, in my humble opinion, too much airing of track quarterfinals. Really, I can wait for the semifinals and finals. Isn't there something more obscure they can show, something for those of us without cable?
  

• I'm going to try really hard not to miss some table tennis. I haven't caught it yet, and I'll be so disappointed if I don't catch it somewhere.
  

• I kind of think medaling in equestrian events is a little unfair. Isn't the horse doing all the work? I hope the horses at least get a nice treat at the end. Maybe some cinnamon HoofSnax?
  

• Women's gymnastics judges = not my friends.
  

• Fencing is awesome. Any sport where you poke someone with a stick and make their head light up gets a vote in my book.

Shout Out

HAPPY BIRTHDAY to my Dan,
the sweetest, silliest, most lovable husband in the world!

Because You Never Know

If the last year or so has taught me anything, it has taught me that you can never take anything for granted. We all tell ourselves that you never know what might happen, but deep down, we also tell ourselves that it won't happen to us. About a year and a half ago, my friend Sally's husband was hit by a car while walking in a crosswalk (he is okay now, but I can't imagine the horror they went through). A little over a year ago, my cousin's ex-girlfriend, just finishing up nursing school, died from an accidental prescription drug overdose. Last fall, a friend lost her unborn twins in a car accident. In January, I got the call that Adam had died: only 20 years old--and gone. And in February, Ashley lost her brother-in-law, a high school administrator, from flu complications in a heartbreaking turn of events.

You never know. Those words sound so different to me than they did a year ago.

For many of the events above, I was part of, or privvy to, not only the event itself, but the aftermath. In addition to the heartache, each loss or emergency came with its share of logistical nightmares. I have said it before, and I will say it again: a little preparation will do more than you can imagine to save the ones you love from additional headaches and heartache. I have learned that, really, you never know what will happen. But I have also learned that you can do a lot to get ready for it.

In March, Dan and I took some initial steps to prepare for the unthinkable, which you can read about here. Over the weekend, we completed our wills as well as paperwork for our advanced health care directives, medical power of attorney, and general durable power of attorney, who is empowered to handle our financial matters. (If anyone would like help with locating info on any or all of the above, feel free to contact me and I'll be happy to help you out.)

For the most part, that has taken care of all the people in my life should something tragic occur, but I realized that doesn't take care of everything. If you are anything like me, your pets are not just animals that happen to live in your house; they are family. In our wills, Dan and I included provisions about who would care for our pets (after discussing it with the person, of course) should anything happen to us. When my sister came to visit in July, she brought me an ASPCA Grab 'n Go bag which is used for emergency pet preparedness (my sister works in an animal shelter, and she received it at no cost). For all of my preparations above, preparing for an emergency with my cats was not something I had really thought through, and I used the bag my sister gave me to get started over the weekend. It only took me about thirty minutes to get everything together (e.g., medical and microchip information, emergency contact information, pictures of my cats, info about local pet boarding facilities, a list of hotels that accept pets). The ASPCA has a good resources here and here for emergency pet preparedness. For over a year, Dan and I have also had a sticker on our front door that alerts emergency personnel that there are cats in our home; you can order one for free.

In addition to learning that you never know, there are two other things I've learned: 1) Putting together all of the above has not proved as difficult as I thought it might be and 2) Once it's done, you will feel so much better.

An Open Letter to the Olympics

Dear Olympics,

I have been eagerly anticipating your arrival for quite some time. I love the variety of competitions you offer, the intensity and excitement of your races for the gold, the astounding history that you boast, and your general air of ceremony. I occasionally jump up and scream at the TV while watching you, celebrating (or commiserating) with the athletes. I get nervous and bite my nails. I tear up often. You are definitely providing your fair share of emotional highs, for which I give great thanks. And, as you know, anything that promotes world peace, harmony, and general togetherness always has a place in my sentimental heart, so you've definitely got me there.

But we have a problem. We are only four days in, and my circadian rhythms are already way out of whack. You see, Olympics, I usually go to bed at ten, eleven at the latest. This stumbling into bed between eleven and midnight is just not working for me, though I admit that I would rather hold my eyes open (literally) than miss an exciting medal event. And then there's the fact that I usually go to the gym in the mornings before work. I'm still making it, but if I continue to hit the pillow as the clock strokes twelve, my workout schedule is going to fall to the wayside (you, of all entities, would not want to get in the way of one's exercise, would you?). And let's not even talk about the fact that I already seem to be arriving at work a little later in the morning and leaving a little bit early (so, you know, I can finish grocery shopping and still get home in time for prime events).

Perhaps you already know that my undying devotion to you will not waver due to something as insignificant as no sleep. I will admit that you have the upper hand here. But if this continues, soon I am going to resemble a character in a Tim Burton film.

Perhaps we can reach a compromise?

Yours faithfully,
Jenn

Good Thing: The Highly Sensitive Person

There are a handful of books which I can unequivocally say have forever altered the way I see the world. The China Study is one. Amazing Grace, which prompted my entry into social work, is another. And then there is The Highly Sensitive Person, which my sister referred me to last winter. I intended to post about the book after reading it, but forgot until I recently received an e-mail from a friend who just started reading it herself.

I used to joke that I must be autistic or something because of my sensitivity to things like noise, crowds, and heat. I often get easily overwhelmed. Without sufficient quiet time, I start to unravel. If I see dead animal on the side of the road (even a possum), or a homeless person, or a depressing story on the news, I can feel profoundly sad for hours. I find that I am often more deeply moved by books or music or art than those around me. I recently figured out that I am better off avoiding violent movies due to the stress they cause me. If I have done or said the wrong thing, I often feel the guilt or embarrassment of it for hours, sometimes even for days. I cry about things that most other people do not seem to get upset about, and I seem to have a much harder time "shaking things off" than others do. The smallest bits of chaos or disorder in my environment can cause me a great deal of stress.

In the past, if I wasn't joking that I was borderline autistic or OCD, I would proclaim that I must just be plain neurotic. To me, none of the things above added up to just one thing, but rather were just slightly freakish things about me that, quite frankly, often annoyed me because they seemed so incongruous with the rest of the world. When I read The Highly Sensitive Person, it was as though a light bulb went on, as though I finally understood the ways in which I relate to my environment. In retrospect, it seems obvious that all of the things above would add up to sensitivity. But somehow, I didn't put everything together, and giving those qualities a name--being highly sensitive--gave me a sense of control and relief. Understanding that I am highly sensitive makes it so much easier for me to navigate the world and to comprehend my seemingly abornmal reactions to things. Reading this book gave me the profound experience of reading something by a total stranger and unquestionably seeing myself reflected in it. I felt understood and affirmed and distinctly less freakish.

The few people I know who have read this book, and who have known from chapter one that it was speaking about them, have had a profound reaction to it. Like all labels, not everything in the book describes or defines me, but overall, the label of HSP feels like a comforting blanket to me, one that makes me feel more secure in the world, not to mention less alone. This is a book I refer to mentally again and again, and if you think you might be an HSP, I can almost guarantee that you are sure to do the same. It has truly changed the way I see myself and my place in the world, and it's nice to no longer worry that I may need a psychiatric assessment. :)

For Your Amusement

As I stepped outside the grocery store this afternoon, a man dropped a couple of Hallmark paper bags (the kind they use to put cards in at checkout) and they blew on the ground in front of me. I picked them up and handed them to him, wondering what someone was doing outside the grocery store with multiple Hallmark bags.

"Thanks," he said. "They're for my Buds." Turns out he was using them as paper bags for multiple single-serve cans of Bud Light.

Simple Joys of the Last Few Days

• A trip to my favorite orchard over the weekend to pick our own peaches and blackberries (and, of course, the joy of eating them!)

• Being the only girl in the weight room at the gym this morning. It makes me feel stronger to be in there with the big guys.
  

• Receiving a bathing suit which I stumbled upon in a catalog while shopping with my sister. Wonder of all wonders--it fits. It was on clearance. It's exactly the style I've been looking for for years. I love it. It might even cure my allergy to bathing suits (but let's not get ahead of ourselves).

• Watching my kitties follow me and Dan from room to room around the house

• The pot of coffee that Dan makes for us each morning. I love the freshly ground beans, the aroma that fills our house. . . it's a little cup of happiness waiting for me each day.
  

• A new plan--in lieu of our postponed trip to Europe--to travel out West this spring. I think I am finally going to see the Redwoods! And I will still be taking care of a trip on my life list. Yay!
  

Worries

This is certainly not an exhaustive list, but the thoughts below have occupied me for most of the day. I'm in the process now of trying to let them go before I go to bed, reminding myself that everything will work out and that worrying is wasted energy. I'm trying. . . really I am. But I can't help feeling the weight of them. Sigh.

1. If I'll ever have enough money to pay off my school loans and buy a house
2. If my impending move to Pennsylvania will be the right choice*
3. If the fact that Dan and I have decided to postpone our spring trip to Europe (see worry #1 compounded by flight costs and the devalued dollar) means that I'll keep putting it off and never actually get there
4. If I'll ever settle into a job/career that will give me the time and resources to realize the dreams on my life list (see worry #3)
5. If Dan and I will both be able to find jobs when we move, given the state of the economy
6. If I'll ever figure out what kind of job I'm even going to look for (I love what I do now, but it can be so exhausting without much pay, and that always brings me back to worry #4)
   
7. If I'll be able to make it home for Christmas, given financial constraints and vacation limitations. Dan and I celebrated Christmas alone here in St. Louis last year (after hosting our families for Thanksgiving). It was nice, but now that Adam is gone, the thought of not being home for Christmas is nearly unbearable.
   

*For those of you who don't know, Dan and I are planning to move to Pennsylvania next year to be closer to family and friends (mine on the Pittsburgh side of the state and Dan's closer to Philadelphia).