Little Acts of Bravery

Have you ever seen the movie "French Kiss" with Meg Ryan and Kevin Kline? In that movie, Meg plays an uptight woman with a terrible fear of flying who, upon finding out her fiance is leaving her for another woman, boards a plane to France in an effort to win her back. One of the funniest scenes for most people is at the very beginning when Meg is trying to cure her fear of flying. Let's watch it, shall we?



When I watched this scene for the first time I didn't find it funny so much as I found it to be exactly how I feel when flying. I've always had a flying phobia and no matter how many times I do it I am still terrified. My parents and brother love to fly and don't understand my fear which just makes things worse. It is so bad that my mom will not fly with me unless absolutely neccesary. When 9/11 happened, it was like the terrorists knew my greatest fear and exploited it, now I have to worry about someone taking over my plane in addition to the fact that unless I watch the wings they will fall off.

I was content to never fly again but then I became friends with some really great women who live all around the country. I realized that if I wanted to ever spend time with these great friends, I would have to get over my fear, any way that I could. I don't like people telling me that I can't do something and by avoiding air travel, I was telling myself that I couldn't live a full life. No way. So, I went to a therapist who gave me some helpful tips and imagery exercises to use and most importantly, permission to take a Xanax when the panic attacks and terror got to be too much. I learned that phobias happen but how you learn to cope with them is the most important thing. With my therapist's help, I've gone from someone who would tremble at the mere sight of an airport to someone who sees air travel as a neccesary evil. I used to sob before I had to board the plane but now I pop a Xanax, turn on the special calming playlist I have on my iPhone and read. I'll never like flying but I'll do it, even if it means kissing the ground like the Pope when we land.

I'm going to visit some friends in NYC (Hi Kelly!) in June and I had to buy my ticket today. I'll admit to some fear as I completed the transaction because this meant that I was really going to do it, I would really be boarding a plane. Sure I can get out of it if I really feel scared but I love being with my friends and I love NYC and I don't want to miss out on all the fun we are going to have. I want to show my boys that it is okay to be scared of things but you have to try your hardest to overcome those fears otherwise they'll run your life. I'm also really cheap and don't want to waste any money- which is probably the biggest reason why I won't cancel. Ha!

So, while I am just getting on a plane and not running into a burning building, I have learned that sometimes the smallest acts of bravery mean the most.

Do Over

I want a do-over when it comes to this weekend. Yesterday, after writing my last blog post, I started to see wavy lines out of the corner of my eye and I knew a migraine was about to hit. I rushed to take my migraine medicine but unfortunately the medicine was no match for the cause of my headache: barometric pressure. So, instead of spending the day celebrating my MIL's 70th birthday I spent it in bed, curled into a ball, crying in pain. The vision and speech disturbances that come with my migraines only last half an hour but the intense headache lasts for two days which meant that I also couldn't celebrate my brother's 30th birthday today.

I try to avoid the things that trigger my migraines and am lucky most of the time to catch them before they get too bad but I was too slow yesterday. Thanks to that slowness I missed out on celebrating two people who I really love. I am hereby submitting my request for a turn back of the clock to Friday night, back when I had a whole weekend ahead of me and was looking forward to visits with family members and delicious birthday cake. I know, pipe dream on the do-over but my request for birthday cake still stands.

It's like a shampoo commerical around here!

When you say the words girly-girl, I am the last person who will come to mind. Yes, I played with Barbies as a girl, was in Girl Scouts for about 5 minutes until I was kicked out for refusing to sell cookies and I have been known to genuflect when entering a Sephora but that is pretty much the extent of my femininity. I hate to shop, see shoes as nothing more than things to put on your feet, spas bore the crap out of me and I tend to gravitate toward guys just because I have a masculine sense of humor, especially when it comes to farts. Ok, maybe that isn't so much masculine humor as it is 12 year old boy humor but there is still a maleness factor involved. The one concession I will make to the typical female cliche' is I'll spend a lot on my hair because it requires a good cut and color, even if I go months between cuts because going into a hair salon tends to give me hives. I have Irish and Italian heritage which means I have thick, coarse, very wavy dark hair that is starting to get really gray (I am only 36, so my genes obviously suck). If I get the wrong person working on my hair, I literally look like this chick from the cartoon Dilbert:

Triangle hair Laura is angry!



Imagine the beauty you see above you with about two inches of white roots and you will know the hotness my husband has been living with for the past two months. He is quite the lucky guy. Normally I don't even pay attention to my hair, other than to make sure it isn't sticking straight up in the air, but the other day I looked at myself in the mirror and the combination of super pale skin and white roots made me look dull, tired and frankly horrific. I am fine with the aging process but in this case my outsides looked 50 even though my insides feel 25. I had an uncharacteristic girly moment of panic and called to make an appointment with my amazing stylist (Meredith at RuMM Color Studio in Alpharetta) and this morning she worked her magic on my head. I walked into the salon feeling decrepit and walked out with a spring in my step! What is it about a haircut that just makes you feel so much better about yourself? I am swinging my hair around so much I am going to get whiplash and I can't stop looking in the mirror. It is a gross, rainy day here in Atlanta, the perfect day for old movies and napping on the couch, but not for me. I'm going to take my new cut and color out for a walk and let everyone see how awesome it looks.


Hrmmm, maybe there is something to this girly-girl thing after all!



Inertia

I often have the best plans: Clean the house every day, head to the gym for an hour a day, journal my food intake, read a classic book every month. What do I do instead? Fart around on the computer playing 40 Thieves, forget the gym exists and leave those piles of clutter. At times like these it just seems to exhausting to get out and do something. I know I am not depressed, so I wonder if I am truly rebelling against myself. Why do I sabotage myself? Who am I really fighting? When will I learn that good enough is great and perfect is an unattainable goal? I can be 100% present and helpful for others but why not for myself?

Life always seems to be a struggle between perfection and inertia. Lately I feel stuck in one place and I am trying to figure out a way to get a happy medium. Work in progress.

Tornado Warning

GA, where I live, is simply amazing in the spring. Trees burst into life seemingly overnight and flowers color every landscape. Unfortunately, we are also located in tornado alley which means the benefits of a glorious spring are coupled with severe thunderstorms, tornado warnings and hail. I was born in VA and lived there for 11 years until my father was transferred to GA so I wasn't familiar with the weather upheaval that comes to GA every year as spring in VA (particularly my hometown) is rather quiet. The night we moved to GA I can recall my parents, brother and I looking at each other in confusion as these weird sirens started going off and tornado warnings started flashing on the screen. We honestly had no idea what that meant and we actually stood in front of the living rooms windows trying to see what was going on. As the years have progressed, I have not only come to know what tornado warnings mean but I have developed a downright terror that borders on phobia of severe weather. When I hear that the possibility of severe weather is coming it colors my entire day. I obsessively check the Weather Channel, listen for the alerts that could come and watch the radar. I even have my favorite weatherman, Kirk Mellish on AM750 WSB, who never gets riled up like some local TV weather people. My husband and I have a saying that if Kirk freaks out the world is going to end. Last night was one of those nights when Kirk freaked out.

I had been watching the weather all day but didn't really see anything that worried me so I let my guard down a bit as far as the obsessive checking was concerned. I was working on the computer (right next to the french doors that go out to our deck) when my Mom called and told me there was a warning for my area and to take cover. Our county is so big that sometimes there can be a warning for the southern end of the county while my area is blue skies and no rain so when I looked out the doors and saw very little activity, I thought Mom had the areas confused. I checked Weather Bug and sure enough, my area was under a tornado warning. Hubby and I quickly shuffled our boys to the inside hallway, grabbed a few books and pillows and waited.

As soon as we got to the hall it sounded like the bottom dropped out outside: the wind was ferocious, the hail sounded like it was going to break every window in our house and I just waited for that train like sound to come. I was, in a word, terrified. My hands were shaking so badly I couldn't hold my phone or sit still. I desperately wanted to cry but I didn't want to get my kids scared- panic in small places is not a good thing. We don't have a basement and our house is a ranch so I always feel like the roof is just going to peel off and suck us out or a tree will fall right on top of us since we don't have that protective second level. Without being dramatic or overstating things, the 25 minutes we sat in that hallway and heard the pandemonium outside was sheer hell for me. When the all clear sounded, we looked outside, saw little damage and went back to our normal Monday night activities. Well, my husband and kids did but my adrenaline drop was so severe that all I could do was just sit on the couch and try to regain my bearings.

I never want to pass my fears on to my kids- I firmly believe that they should develop their own so sometimes I really struggle with keeping my crap together when I am at my worst. A lot of my issues in therapy in the past have been about either hiding my fear/anger/sadness and having physical symptoms or bringing those fears out in inappropriate ways. I feel like I did a really good job last night of recognizing my fears yet not letting them control me and asking for what I needed while in the moment. I didn't freak out, which would have freaked my kids out, but at the same time I didn't pretend that everything was lovely. I just calmly stated that I don't like this weather, did my deep breathing exercises and then asked my husband to make the kids dinner as I just wasn't capable. I had my Xanax but I didn't take any because the deep breathing and mental exercises worked. Happily, my coping techniques worked as my boys were calm and were able to eat a hearty dinner and even invent a game named "Tornado Man." I am proud of their imaginations but I don't think I'll play that game any time soon.

Mentally I am getting better but I still hate spring in GA.

Who do you think you are?

I love the phrase that serves as a title for this post because it has so many meanings for just a simple phrase. It can be audacious, deep, condescending and cruel but in my case, well, it is probably all four. I am still working on the answer to this question but I don't think I'll ever be satisfied because I am a work in progress. How Oprah was that answer?

Ok, this is who I think I am:

36 years old
Friend
Wife of 8 years
Mother of two boys
Lover of books, movies and music
Veteran of a 30 year fight against anxiety and depression
Coupon clipper and money saver
Sarcastic, funny yet extremely shy
Warrior for a kid with Sensory Integration Disorder and a neurotypical child
Free Range parent
A person working on better health and fitness and against the pull of the couch
Former NYer in a past life (never having lived there in this one but feeling like I should)
Politically aware but not full of hatred
Spiritual, religious but private with both
Introverted
...and many, many more things.

What will you find here? Well, that is the easy question to answer. I'll talk about my life, my family, my coupon savings, food and recipes, what it is like to struggle with panic disorder/anxiety/depression, my diet and exercise and politics. Basically everything under the sun and whatever I want to write about when I plop myself down in front of the computer.

No I am not another Mommyblogger and no I am not doing this for fame, fortune or money. Really I am doing this because I have a lot to say but not a lot of people to say it to in my real life. I know I am a little behind the times and I know that everyone has a blog these days. Just saying the word blog makes me feel dirty. What can I say, I do things on my own schedule. Look, I just recently became addicted to the show "Arrested Development" and that went off the air in 2006. Once I finish this I am going to check out a little iceberg movie I've heard a lot about- I believe it is called "Titanic"? Kidding folks.

Welcome to my little slice of mind. Don't be scared.