Endo Belly Love

[I’m not going to talk about Harvey. It’s too soon, and my dearest friends and family have been through horrifying experiences because of it.]


Hey you little scamps!

I’ve got some news:
I’m pregnant.


Hahahaha jk.
The REAL news is that I made the decision to pursue nursing school (glitter cannon! glitter cannon!). I started my pre-reqs in the spring, took summer classes, and now just have 2 more classes left before I apply. Thanks to my first degree, I only needed the science classes….since I took zero of them at A&M. Well, I think I took Geology, along with every other liberal arts major, to fulfill our one science requirement. You know how we do.

You can imagine I was scared to death of science. Can I physically do it? Am I smart enough? What is a cell?

Much to my surprise, I have a 4.0 so far. Am I proud? I am so FUCKING PROUD. I really doubted I could do this, and here I am…actually succeeding. Also, going back to school in your 30’s is a game changer:

1. I have good study habits
2. I have endometriosis = no social life
3. I really like Millennials

I know! I was surprised too. They do require quite a bit of hand holding, and don’t seem well equipped to handle life when it doesn’t go their way, but gosh are they adorable. Their innocence is beyond endearing, and my classes are so fun because of their engaging energy and huge amounts of kindness so many possess. I am delighted with my time at school and so excited to be on this path! I CANNOT WAIT to keep learning and growing and meeting exceptional people. I can’t wait to get my hands on some patients and root around in body cavities.

For reals though. If anyone has the scoop on schools with good RN programs let a sista know. It’s very competitive and I will need to apply to multiple ones and pray someone takes me.

Sidebar nation: I took a real vacation last month and went to visit friends in Bend, Oregon. My first time in the Pacific Northwest and it really is as magical as everyone claims. Fairies come and greet you as you step off the plane. I felt good there, ya know? When you just feel good in a place. Fit me like a glove made of puppy skin. There are heaps of adventures to be had, and the city is full of explorers!

However, the most exciting part of the trip was being able to walk around outside and not sweat. That’s a thing you can do. Just not sweat.

But really, what is so cool about it, you ask? I hear you.

Version 2

Driving from Portland to Bend, we stopped at the Timberline Lodge on Mt. Hood for lunch and this view. Such a cool place! I definitely stood out in my dress compared to everyone else in their mountain clothes, but I’m on vacation. It’s a vacation dress. And I want to go back and climb that mountain. Part of The Shining was filmed here too. Murder.

Version 2

This beauty here is Tumalo Falls. 20 minute drive from Bend (!), a 4 minute hike to snap this shot, and at 7:30AM we were the only souls there. Blissed out.


Elk Lake


Version 2

Meet the Deschutes. For when you just want a little nature walk by a body of water that runs THROUGH TOWN. Ahhhhhh! So much awesomeness!

There is a nursing school in Bend so I’m adding that to my list of places to apply. I would not be mad at living by the mountains. The waterfalls I can do without.

My birthday was in July and we went 80’s dancing at Etro and had a staycation at the Marriott Marquis downtown. Planning gives me anxiety, and I don’t enjoy large parties in general (anxiety), so the hotel room with a few friends was perfect. We spent all day at the pool. A lazy river in the shape of Texas, a sick DJ dropping beats, and wine for days on days on days. Like Vegas, without all the pretension and $34 cocktails. No cute boys though. Where my boys at?


It was such a happy day for me, and one of those rare occasions when my body wasn’t a burning pile of trash. Of course, later that night we went out for dinner and I crashed hard at the restaurant. I try to avoid making plans I can’t break since I’m at the mercy of my body. I started to get anxious about completely derailing the night but of course those lovely souls I call friends are full of compassion and understanding. They gladly wrapped up dinner, we hopped in a cab, and headed back to the room for jammies and Netflix.

I started Anatomy and Physiology on Monday (gulp).

Speaking of school, gather round and let me tell you about my worst day last semester. I’m at my fave study spot, Mercantile, in the Village. I get up to take a break, and walk outside to the parking lot. I was also wearing a tank top, and not my normal baggy shirt. Because on THIS DAY I woke up and decided that I was no longer going to be ashamed of my endo belly. It’s been a life-long battle coming to terms with always looking pregnant, and to avoid bad feelings I just wear loose clothes. But I had had enough. I had spent the past several months being really lovely to myself and trying to neutralize the not so nice thoughts I used to have. This is my body, it’s fine how it is, and if I want to wear a tank top – I’m gonna wear a tank top! Taking charge. Being a boss. I had been starving at the coffee shop, and the option was either a croissant or go hungry. I chose gluten. Gluten is enemy numero uno of endo. But I’m breezy! Carefree! Doesn’t matter what happens cause I love my body!

I’m outside, and this dumb blonde was in the tiny parking lot with a massive Jeep she had no clue how to drive. I’m watching her try to complete a 12 point turn and signal that I will help her. I get her out of the tight spot and as she drives by I’m mentally patting myself on the back for a good deed done for this pile of dead brain cells. She says, “Thank you so much! Hahahaha! I just don’t know how to drive this thing!”
“No problem,” I say.
Then the cunt asks me when I’m due. I pause for a beat. “…..I’m not pregnant.”
And she just says “Oh, haha!” and drives away. I’m left standing there like a sucker, tears rolling down my cheeks. THE ONE TIME I DECIDE I’M GOOD ENOUGH.
Marissa was inside, so I go back in and she gives me a good long hug and we both agree that lady should die in a fire.

Posted in Bend, Endometriosis, Oregon, Portland, Travel | Tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , | Leave a comment

The One with The Parentheses

Happy anniversary to my body!!! Four years now.

My surgery anniversary is always a special day for me. I like to reflect on the magical man who came into my life to change it forever (Dr. Mangal) and how he took a frozen pelvis and put all my parts back in their proper places. I’m constantly learning how to honor my body and work synergistically with her, instead of fighting her like I did in the past. We’ve developed quite the beautiful relationship.

I’m currently reading The Doctor Will See You Now and cannot recommend this book enough for us endo sisters, and those of you with loved ones suffering from the disease who want to understand it more.

I have agonized about my weight for a couple of years…(see my last post). I’ve done everything imaginable to get it off, to no avail. I mean, we’re talking a good 35lbs piled on within the past 2 years. And knowing my endo diet and my lifestyle…well it just didn’t make one god damn bit of sense, and my frustration (and dare I say, disgust?) was insurmountable. It wasn’t until recently that I freed myself from this. I returned to a previous doctor to start another gut/digestion healing program, and she flat out said that the weight was due to my anti-depressants so I could just forget about trying to lose it until I come off of them. And then I watched my frustration float away like a cool unicorn balloon. Because there’s nothing I can do. I’m off the hook. If this is the price I am to pay, well, bring on the tolls. Because this weight represents me getting out of bed. This weight means I don’t cry every day. This weight means there is no sadness pressing on my chest so hard that I can’t breathe. This weight means I have a bangin’ rack and a bangin’ booty.

I’ve been absent from the blog/FB/Instagram. Other than checking Facebook for local dance events, I don’t spend any time on it anymore. My Instagram account (I refuse to say “insta”) is mostly health and dance related too. For a while it was feeling like ALL I WAS TALKING ABOUT WAS ENDO…but then again, isn’t that the POINT of my blog?! Hello. Read the ‘about me’ section. I’m here to bring awareness to the disease and all the little perks that come with it. Maybe tiny insecurities were springing up, and I feared I would come across as complaining or wallowing or unable to move forward. Which is silly because I am none of those things. Yes, my life sucks 95% of the time. Yes, I feel terrible 100% of the time. But what I do with that is I take it, I pack it into a little ball in my hand, and I throw it at every target I find. I get shit done. Sometimes I sit and do nothing, but that’s due to the chronic fatigue. I wish I could run and sniff and jump and stare, but that’s only for deer. (30 Rock ref)

I read somewhere that endo fatigue has been compared to the fatigue cancer patients feel during chemo treatment. It’s for real, y’all. It is quite a serious obstacle to healing, as healing usually requires movement and doctor’s appointments and going to the pharmacy and cooking and eating whole foods….so how do I get those damn spoons to do it?

Anyway. I’ve been following a cystic fibrosis patient on Instagram who had a double lung transplant a few years ago, and recently had a second double transplant last week. Before her second transplant she was living in the hospital for 120+ days, unable to breathe or eat on her own. She’s 27. I have been following her journey and learning SO MUCH about CF, transplants and donors, and how an entire team works together to solve a case. I have been brought to tears many times reading her (and her family’s) stories as they post daily updates (the good and the bad) (what’s up with all my parentheses in this post?) about the day to day uncertainty if she will make it through the night. I sobbed after her transplant surgery when I saw she was able to walk without a breathing tube. It has ignited a curiosity about transplants and is something I really want to explore on my nursing journey. Without finding her, I’m not sure this interest would have developed. Which then made me realize that this is the point of my blog – to bring awareness like she has. Previously I didn’t know much about CF, what treatment looks like, and what life with CF looks like. I am so grateful that she shares so much so I can get a raw glimpse of the day to day. I can’t imagine the sense of fulfillment in being part of a team that gives AN ORGAN to a person to give them more time. Wow.

All that to say, I really need to get my shit together. This is what my current chronic illness sitch looks like….


Yeah, I know. That’s not even all of it.

The next 6 months I’m following several different treatment programs to reduce/eliminate some meds and heal my digestion that is forever wonky and most likely the cause of my depression, anxiety, blood sugar dysregulation, high cholesterol, high triglycerides, inflammation, inability to absorb nutrients and fats, dehydration, and chronic fatigue. I have even more motivation to get it done because I have to be well if I’m to succeed at nursing school. So I’ll try to write about my protocols for all you other spoonies…maybe it will give you some ideas.

Plus, ya girl is going to Israel and Jordan in September and I need to take with me a body that can function. I’m terrified my body will crash and I’ll be all laid up in the hotel, looking at the beach from my bed and screaming “whyyyyyyy!?!?!?” into the darkness while my friends go out and eat the best shakshuka in the world. This will be my first international trip since the India Nightmare in 2013 and mama wants to get it right get it tight.

Here’s our itinerary:
Aqaba (for scuba diving in the Red Sea)
Wadi Rum
Ein Gedi (kibbutz, sunrise Masada hike/Dead Sea)
Tel Aviv

Any recommendations are welcome. Specifically, a camp in Wadi Rum if anyone has done it. Currently need to get that booked. Also interested in any day trips from Tel Aviv.

Changes I’ve recently added:

  • Coffee enemas (to help with detox)
  • Hypopressive breathing/low pressure fitness (to rehab a pelvic floor ravaged by disease)
  • Forcing breakfast (it’s common to not eat breakfast when you have blood sugar issues)
  • Reducing Zoloft (SSRI’s are notorious for causing GI upset. Since I’m in remission, my doctor agreed that I can taper off my meds and see how I do. The main motivation behind this is to remove any culprit that can interfere with my digestion functioning happily)
  • Sitting in the sun immediately after I wake up (resets circadian rhythm + Vitamin D)
  • A ton of new supplements to kill some pathogens and opportunistic bacteria I tested positive for
  • A ton of digestive enzymes
  • Herbal teas ( I hate herbal tea. But I’m sold on certain ones with digestive benefits so I drink them for medicine, not pleasure)
  • Walk or swim after meals to keep blood sugar regulated
  • A strict morning and evening routine
  • A 10 step Korean skincare routine

Let’s talk about nursing updates. I’m in the middle of summer school with chemistry, and it ain’t so bad. Just finished up the lecture with an A (holla!) and start the lab on Monday. Then I’m done with prereqs and have the fall to anxiously await acceptance somewhere. UTMB is my #1, and they are in the middle of sending out emails for interviews, so my fingers and toes are crossed. In the meantime, I’m applying for TWU and UT Health. UT Health requires a different entrance exam (HESI) which I’m taking in August. UTMB and TWU require the TEAS and I took that monster in April. I’ve also started exploring out of state schools because it’s so competitive and I think I need to cast a wider net. Eeek.

Sidebar nation:
Here is a list of words/phrases I hate, in order from most to least:

Fur babies
Sorry not sorry

Oh man. It feels good to get that off my chest.

Here are some things that have made me happy the past couple of months:

Killing Eve (BBC) –> also the book that inspired the show
Marcella (Netflix)
Swimming in the sun
Korean skincare. (you guys. You. Guys.)
My Favorite Murder (foreva eva)
Iced coffee
Seinfeld reruns
Maternity jeans (fit my endo belly like a glove)

End of list.


My new hair. Summa summa summa time!


Posted in Endometriosis, My Life, Travel | Tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , | 4 Comments

Stay Sexy And Don’t Get Murdered

That’s the tagline behind my new podcast obsession – My Favorite Murder. I’ve been binge-listening since I discovered it. Here’s a little secret I’m harboring: I’ve always had a life-long fear of being murdered. For reals. And I always thought I was a weirdo. As it turns out, I’m not alone! I’m a murderino, and there’s a lot of us out there. Look no more, true crime lovers – we’ve found our home. Even the Facebook page gives me all the feels. I’ve found my people at last.

The hosts talk a lot about the 80’s. That decade holds a special place in my heart. It was such a shitty/amazing time for children to grow up in America. A time where we were given candy cigarettes so we could pretend we were child smokers. A time of ambiguous seat belt laws which meant we were bouncing around in the back seats unencumbered by safety. And of course, Rescue 911, which taught all of us how to behave in an emergency. Also, there were a ridiculous amount of kidnappings. I wasn’t a paranoid kid, but the fear of being snatched was definitely on my list of concerns, along with what would happen next in Sweet Valley High. With all that going against us, it really is quite the accomplishment that any of us have made it this far. I credit much of the fact that I wasn’t kidnapped to my unsupervised viewing of Unsolved Mysteries. 80’s babies, amirite? The theme music alone is enough to scare the shit out of you.

What Unsolved Mysteries taught me through dramatic re-enactments:

Never go to a second location with a stranger (guaranteed murder)
Never get in the car
An adult never needs a child’s help
Ghost vengeance is real

Thanks, Robert Stack. I have stayed sexy and not gotten murdered.

So, this summer hurt like a mother fucker. I went through a break up. Got sicker. Stopped drinking wine.

The breakup: I know everyone wants details, but I need to respect the privacy of a relationship.

Jk. Very late in the game I realized I had made the unfortunate decision to partner up with a pathological liar with rage issues. Red flag. There was lots of shouting in my face, manipulation, aggression and threatening behavior. All behind closed doors. He was the essence of laid back and gentle in public. The perfect actor.

The pièce de résistance was when he locked me out on the patio to “teach me a lesson”. Those words actually came out of his mouth. He let me back in and I told him it wasn’t his job to teach me lessons. His response: “Well, you weren’t validating me and I had to make you understand how I felt.” Okay. Only serial killers speak like that, so I was pretty sure my next “lesson” would be a sound proof basement. Since I don’t want to be murdered, I packed my shit and left. No crazy back and forth’s (I’m a clean-cutter) (ha! Murder pun), no chance of reconciling, no questioning my decision. In one fail swoop he was completely removed from our lives. All of us were left to pick up the pieces of a shattered relationship (he was fully integrated with my family) and deal with the confusion that comes when you are completely derailed by someone you trusted. My entire family felt the pain of this breakup. Everything was a lie. How does one cope with that and move on?

I am not blameless. I own that I did things that weren’t especially helpful. But this was an abusive relationship, and I’m divulging the details because a) it’s my blog and I do what I want and b) if you are in a relationship where your partner is exhibiting similar behaviors it’s time to escape. This is ABUSE. This isn’t love. No one should ever lock you out, teach you lessons, shout in your face, manipulate you, or lie constantly. If you feel unsafe because your partner has aggressive reactions, it’s time to leave yesterday. If you feel like you always have to walk on egg shells because you don’t know what will set off the time bomb – leave. These people are experts at making you feel like you exaggerate situations, or that you turn everything into “such a big deal” (I heard this so much I started to believe I was crazy). The truth is, no one should be told their feelings are insignificant. If you are in a similar situation, please reach out to me. Please. I want to help.

An alarming pattern with abusive relationships is that they begin rather peacefully. Rodrigo was supportive and sweet and seemingly the perfect boyfriend, as you could tell from previous posts. Maybe that perfection in itself is a red flag. Before you know it, you are in the throes of some pretty terrible stuff and telling yourself it isn’t that bad and maybe everything really is your fault. Like I said, master manipulators.

I have not seen him since June, and I hope I never do. I fear running into him, because I know what he is capable of, and I know he is unpredictable. I would feel very unsafe.

I am so thankful I got out, and I’ll be damned if anyone is ever going to yell in my face again.

Skkkrrreeeeeee subject change!

I saw a thyroid specialist, Dr. Arem. I was warned the appointment would be upwards of $700. No problem. I’m an expensive case.

During my physical exam he told me my thyroid was very inflamed and that my immune system was attacking it. Next I had an ultrasound that showed 2 large nodules on the gland. He told me I had to get those biopsied. Not being the fool, I said if it was all the same to him, I’d rather not do that thank you very much. To which he said he wouldn’t treat me unless I had this done. Well played. Then I went into the blood room with the other patients, we had some nice chats, someone recommended Nada Moo ice cream (changed my life!) and then I went to check out.

Your total is $2,525.”

I pause briefly with my credit card midair, thinking I misunderstood.

Then we both laughed. Of course you didn’t misunderstand, you stupid idiot!

Then my parking was SEVEN DOLLARS. Ugh. They get you from every angle. If this keeps going I will definitely have to marry for money.


Positive. I’m terrified this is all temporary and I will scare it away. Superstitious, but I’ve been let down a lot. I don’t want to get my hopes up and then suddenly go back to being a comatose lump in my bed, and everyone’s all “Where’s Erin? She said she was better.” “Ah man, she’s back in bed. Sick again.” “What? I thought she found the right doctor?” “She’s an idiot.” Or something like that.

Buuuuuuuut things are slowly changing. My nausea has all but disappeared. It’s pretty cool to not feel like vomiting every second of the day. I’ve also started walking on the treadmill because I WANT TO. I haven’t had the desire for physical exercise since September 2013, so this is huge. Also I’m very out of shape.

Oh! The wine! Ugh, this breaks my heart the most. After a couple of weeks on thyroid hormone, I noticed that the wine I was drinking tasted like vinegar. Blerg. No problem, I’m sure it’s a bad bottle. About 12 bottles later it’s confirmed – my taste buds are jacked. But only with wine. WTF??? Wine??? C’mon.

Oddly enough, champagne still tastes pretty darn good. ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

One of the downfalls of thyroid disease is memory loss. In addition to that, I seem to have lost about 65% of my vocabulary. So, if you feel like you’re reading at a 2nd grade level, it’s not you, it’s me.

(Before I made an appointment with Dr. Arem, I read his book – The Thyroid Solution. HIGHLY recommend you get your hands on this if you think you are hypo/hyper thyroid.)











Posted in health, thyroid | Tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , , | Leave a comment

Happiness is a choice!….and Cake Suicide (part four)

Turns out, Zoloft was the magic pill. It took about 3 weeks of dosage adjusting to completely stabilize and I’m now a different person. I haven’t been depressed since early February. This is SENSATIONAL for me. I can’t believe I get to be happy – an emotion so foreign to me. The veil of sadness has lifted. I feel like my world has exploded with Technicolor and I’m experiencing everything for the first time.

For those of you skeptical of anti-depressants, let me say it doesn’t create a new, rose-colored world of alternate reality. It just balances out your hormones so that you can DEAL with life. My insomnia is still here, and still raging. My GI still gives me the middle finger every day. I’m not jumping from one puffy pink cloud to another, coasting on a manufactured bliss. All of my health issues persist, and in some ways are getting worse. But not being depressed has helped me be able to cope with them in a much better way. It’s not the end of the world anymore.

I’ve started dancing again, consistently. That should always be the first warning sign for everyone: if Erin stops dancing, call the doctor. It stopped bringing me joy, so I stopped going.

But now?? Oh man…now, I’m experiencing it on an epic level of ecstasy. Seriously guys! Dancing makes me insanely ecstatic. My instructors, Eric and Karla of Danca Ma Mi Kizomba have brought so much happiness back into my life. Their classes are full of light and laughter and playfulness, and I look forward to every Thursday like it’s Christmas. I remember my first class after the meds had really started working and there was so much freedom and creativity flowing through me I was exploding with giddiness. This is why I dance. And it had been taken away from me for so long, that now that I have it back, I’m soaking up every second. I love the people I have met through kizomba – their warmth and openness and kindness. I love how Eric and Karla have opened up a new world for me. They focus on making learning so freaking fun, and teaching us so many aspects of the dance and African culture. What was always a sacred place for me had become scary, and they made it safe again. I’m eternally grateful for the joy they have brought to my life through African dance.

My boyfriend, my family, my friends. How can you describe a diamond, a fistful of jewels, chests full of gold? How can you convey its true beauty unless you are there to see it for yourself?

My parents and I have developed a special relationship because of my illness, and adding depression to the pile further strengthened it. I was hesitant to share with them what was happening to me. They grew up in a time where mental illness wasn’t discussed openly, and only “crazy” people went to psychiatrists. Not to mention their own lack of experience in having to deal with a mental illness themselves. I was afraid they wouldn’t take me seriously. That they would tell me to “choose to be happy”. Regardless, I shared everything with them – and of course, they were wonderful. They had seen me continually spiral downward and morph into someone they didn’t know or understand. When I finally shed light on my depression, it all made sense. They gathered me in their arms, and we cried together, and they promised we would get through this and find a solution. I would never have to deal with this alone. It was never “weird” to them that I had depression and needed medication. Whatever I needed to get well, they would support. No questions asked.

My sweet, sweet friends. I reached out to those close to me so they would know what was happening. Everyone responded with love and understanding and support. They were so proud of me for getting help, which in turn made me proud of me too. Then came the outpouring of love, because that’s how the people in my life are. It’s never a surprise, but it’s so spectacular to witness. Like the aurora borealis! (Side note: never seen the northern lights, but c’mon…wonderous!) Some friends backed away so that I wouldn’t feel pressure to engage in the friendship until I was ready (they told me they were doing this – it wasn’t just like they ghosted on me). Others checked in every day, filled with concern for my progress and offering to fly to Houston immediately to be with me. I have friends connected to the world of medicine who checked in every time there was a medication switch, and were always on call if I needed help, even connecting me to doctors in the middle of the night at particularly critical moments. All of them reminded me how special I was, and that I had no other option than to get better….that was my gentle way of paraphrasing: “you better not fucking kill yourself, because I will be so pissed.” My friends 🙂

Rodrigo has always demonstrated enduring patience with everything that happens between us, and this time was no different. Neither one of us understood what was wrong, or why I was behaving this way, but he was by my side through all the pain and confusion. Once we realized it was depression, our relationship instantly smoothed out (the Zoloft helped too) because I was better able to communicate when I was feeling low and what I needed that day, instead of completely shutting him out. And he understood what I was going through and was able to support me however I needed it. Now that I’m better, I told him it’s so much fun being with him when I’m not depressed. We were joking around, but there is a heavy truth to that statement. He really is so fun! I used to be too, but Fun Erin had gone away for a looooong time. Because of that, so much had changed between us, and I didn’t realize the strain my depression caused until I was on the other side. To be honest, I’m surprised it didn’t break us. I guess we are both stronger than we give ourselves credit for.

Depression is rampant and there is such a shame stigma attached to it that people are afraid to talk and get help. Especially about suicide. No more! Let’s discuss this stuff freely! Suicide suicide suicide. This isn’t Voldemort – we can actually say this word out loud. I want you to say this word out loud. Remove the shame from it – this is what I want people to understand. It’s ok to go through moments where you don’t want to be alive, and you think about death. It’s okay. It’s like…cake suicide. Cake and suicide, they are both words. That’s it. Just words. Let them have the same effect. Unless you’re diabetic. Then choose suicide. Except don’t. (too soon?) My point is, it should be just as easy to say “suicide” as it is to say “cake”. I think if that were true, more people would be open about feeling suicidal. And if they were, we could then ask:

“Why do you feel that way?”
“What is happening right now?”
“What can I do to help you?”
“I’m coming over right now.”
“I am here.”
“You are never alone.”

If you are silent, you can’t receive help. Receiving help is CRUCIAL to being a well-rounded human ya know. If you aren’t good at asking for help, let me challenge you for the month of April to go out of your way to ask for it. I’ve become a pro at this since getting sick and it’s a beautiful way for the people in your life to express their love for you. Who would not want to witness that? Let me tell you, it is an HONOR to be loved by the people who love me. You guys hear that? All of you who supported me in overcoming this? My family, my boyfriend, my friends…it is MY honor that you love me. Thank you for giving me your boundless love. I am the privileged one. I survived because of your love.

If you see me and want to talk about this post or my experience or share yours with me then please do! I’m happy to share and would love to listen and empathize. I am not ashamed of my depression. I mean, I write about having fingers in my bum, so it’s pretty clear I don’t have many boundaries. But seriously, let’s make jokes at my expense, let’s talk about your cake suicide, and let’s laugh, because when you stop laughing about shit, the whole world goes dark.

Posted in depression, Endometriosis | Tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , , , | 11 Comments

Happiness is a choice!….and Cake Suicide (part three)

I was very hopeful that the meds would work. 2 weeks later, I’m still sobbing uncontrollably every day. I feel like there is someone sitting on my chest – this heaviness that I can’t explain, like a vice of sadness that is squeezing me all day long so I don’t forget it’s there…and I knew I should be feeling better by now…even if it was just a tiny bit. I have a complete breakdown and end up calling the emergency number for my doctor in the middle of the night and they told me to double my dose. A week later, with still no improvements, my psychiatrist/former boss decided it was time to switch to Zoloft.

Within a week of changing meds, I have a “good” day. And by good, I mean I woke up with the strangest feeling – I wasn’t sad. It was surreal to wake up and not immediately start the struggle that would last all day – the struggle of fighting against tears, feeling overwhelmed and anxious, being an emotional train wreck, not being able to cope, and trying to ignore the waves of sadness that crashed against me. My baseline was always sadness. If I stopped fighting for one second I would slip underwater and the day was shot. Then one day I wake up and I don’t have to fight anymore? The sadness just….isn’t there? Just like that?!

I couldn’t BELIEVE it. I could not believe that this is how people live – not sad. Emotionally speaking, life has always seemed so much harder for me than my peers. I would see similar situations in our lives, and compare my inability to recover with their calm indifference and wonder, ‘What is wrong with me?’ I’ve asked myself that question for decades. What is wrong with me? Well, depression. Totally eliminates coping mechanisms. I don’t say this lightly. During the crux of my deepest valley, I got very stressed about a simple discussion with my family and was only able to sit on the floor, rocking back and forth with my head in my hands, and scream for everyone to stop talking. Yeah, scary shit. I didn’t know why I was doing it. It was instinctual and reactive and visceral.

Luckily, I have a psychiatrist who knows me well and who I trust and adore, so I freely share with him that I waited too long to get help and now my brain has crossed over into psychosis. He first reassured me that there is no such thing as waiting too long, then explained that serotonin works as a lubricant for life, smoothing out minor bumps and snafus (what a word!) and helping us cope without getting overwhelmed. When you take serotonin away, there is nothing to help you cope – hence my aggressive reactions and inability to deal with stressors. Many of his patients he sees for depression come after a serious medical trauma, because medical issues drain the neurotransmitters you need to have balanced emotions. My levels were already low, so everything that I went through with the endo just continually slammed against me depleting things so much that I had no chance of recovery on my own.

Posted in depression, Endometriosis | Tagged , , , , , , , , | Leave a comment

Happiness is a choice!….and Cake Suicide (part two)

But, where to begin? I remember from one of my Ginsberg tests that I produce very low levels of dopamine and serotonin, so the first thing I did was look up what low levels do to your body and brain. It described me exactly, even things I hadn’t realized, like monotone speech. That research then led me to mood disorders, which led to major depression. Which is a thing. Regular depression and major depression. At first I resisted, because to me major depression was not being able to get out of bed, not showering for days, and wanting complete isolation. Then I realized that WAS me. Most days, that was me. I couldn’t force myself out of bed. I didn’t shower. I didn’t answer my phone. I ignored everyone in my life and completely withdrew into myself and my mental illness. I didn’t want to be alive. I shut myself in a dark room and didn’t come out for days.

Happiness is a choice – lie. I would never have chosen this life for myself.

Sometimes my friends would see me out. It was rare, but I emerged from my hovel every now and then. What was that like for me? A fight. Fighting myself, fighting the depression and trying to keep it at bay, plastering a fake smile on my face, going through the motions and counting the minutes until I could get back home and isolate myself. I was exhausted because every day was a never-ending struggle to stay on top of the depression. It’s a determined beast though, and eventually I had to succumb completely.

After my research, I wasted no time. I’m an action taker. Once I know what the problem is, I will move swiftly without ceasing until I find a solution when it comes to my health. The problem is, it just took me so damn long to figure out the problem WAS depression. So, armed with my self-diagnosis, I contacted an old work colleague I knew from previous employment at a psychiatrist’s office. Full circle, eh? I thought it would be weeks before I could see someone and get help, and I already was at a critical level, but by some beautiful coincidence she was working at a psychiatric ER for Memorial Hermann and I was able to get in and see her that evening. She started me on Lexapro that night.


Posted in depression, Endometriosis | Tagged , , , , , , , , , , | Leave a comment

Happiness is a choice!….and Cake Suicide (part one)

…and other lies we are always told…

Finally I’m back! There is a reason I’ve been gone. Not just because I felt like ignoring my 5 readers. I love you guys! I would never push you away. Unless I am dealing with depression. In that case, I will push you away.

So now the secret’s out: I’ve been living with major depression. Deep, dark, abysmal, soul sucking, life depleting depression.

I’ve had the symptoms for more than 2 years:

  • lack of energy
  • lack of interest in life
  • dropping away from social engagements
  • lack of motivation
  • insomnia
  • tumultuous emotions
  • no coping mechanisms
  • aggressive reactions, etc.

But I always related those symptoms to the insomnia I’ve had since Operation Total Body Shutdown in 2013. Insomnia and depression have almost identical traits. My depression tricked me – disguising itself as insomnia so I kept slipping further and further into a black hole devoid of escape. My family and friends were witness to my decline, but since I have a myriad of health issues and was actively working towards a solution, there was no cause for alarm. I guess we all just assumed this is what happens when a person is sick for a long time.

We go to St. Maarten for a family Christmas trip, which turns out to be a magical paradise of floating unicorn tears. Utter perfection. The beach is my happy place, and I think it really gave me the chance to physiologically relax in a way I’m not able to living in a busy city. I was sleeping 4 hours a night. Double what I was used to. So I would bound out of bed, feeling energy like I haven’t felt in years, scramble out onto the sand to see the sun sparkling on the sea, and wait to embrace the happiness that always accompanies such a scene. But it never came. Instead, I was wrapped in a blanket of sadness so thick I couldn’t breathe. Still! After 4 hours of sleep! My symptoms still remained! That’s when I realized something else was seriously wrong. If I couldn’t be happy on St. Maarten, then there really was no hope after all.

We arrived home, and I continue my descent into darkness, spiraling out of control with my emotions in ways that really frightened me. I was thinking daily about death, and how I wouldn’t care if I went to bed and never woke up again. I wished for that every day. I would alternate my time between just staring out the window or sobbing for hours. I needed help before those thoughts about death escalated to something serious. I wasn’t sure I could trust myself. I was so low, so sad.

Posted in depression, Endometriosis, My Life | Tagged , , , , | 4 Comments

St. Maarten

When was my last post…July? August? It’s been a while. I’m working on a post explaining my absence, but in the meantime, here are some photos from our Christmas trip to the Caribbean – one of the best vacations of my life!

View from our back patio out onto Simpson Bay. The house was stupid beautiful:


Christmas day sail to Prickly Pear and Anguilla with Aqua Mania:



Captain Parker


Prickly Pear – snorkeling spot



Aqua Mania had the BEST crew!!!! HIGHLY recommend

French side:




my lil’ buccaneer

Scuba diving with Ocean Explorers. Fantastic company!


that’s Leslie. she rocks!



Maho Beach:


KLM 747 about to land


Sunset sail with Passaat  – amazing!




my “no more photos” pose


Posted in st. maarten, Travel | Tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , | 5 Comments

Werewolf Bar Mitzvah

Four pounds. GAINED.

That is what you get when you deny me dairy, gluten, alcohol and sugar for 6 weeks.

It’s official. God hates me.

No one seems alarmed by this except me. I see myself investing in a lot of stretchy pants in the future, as I balloon to 300 pounds…

Some changes:

– Switching to the Nuva Ring. I want to get off birth control entirely, but Ginsberg is afraid of too many changes at once and my body literally dissolving in protest. So the Nuva Ring is the next best thing so it won’t put any pressure on my liver to actually do it’s job. This will take effect in t-minus 2 days. I decided to finish my current pack of Minastrin on principle, since I have to pay $100/month to get it. I’m taking every last one of those damn pills. Then, let’s see what fun emotional storms blow my way with the new change!

– No more evening workouts. Zero. I either work out in the morning, or not at all.

– I have to be up every day by 10am at the latest, no matter what time I fall asleep (or even go to sleep)

-My nutritionist wants me to wear orange goggles. What?…I hear you asking. These: http://www.amazon.com/Uvex-S0360X-Ultra-spec-SCT-Orange-Anti-Fog/dp/B003OBZ64M/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1436804678&sr=8-1&keywords=orange+goggles

I haven’t ordered them.

She also recommended I read The Woman Code, which I’ve been devouring. Some changes I’ve made after reading this book:

-Threw out all household chemicals and chemical-laden body products. I dropped a benny at Whole Foods getting completely new, chemical-free stuff, and have made HOMEMADE all purpose cleaner from natural ingredients. Yeah. I full blown tipped the crazy scale. But hear me out…I have an endocrine system that is one step away from crumbling into dust. A lot of chemicals like parabens and sodium lauryl sulfates (SLS on the streets) are estrogen mimickers and get all up in your business and jack shit up. Now, a normal human (you) comes into contact with these chemicals and initiates Operation Detox, and you poop out the chemicals and life continues merrily along. A mutant (me) invites all of these chemicals to the party, then everyone is running around trying to make room, then my hormones get mad cause these new visitors are overstaying their welcome, and then my blood says “hey, there’s enough room for everyone if you just hop on into my circulation.” And you know what doesn’t happen? I don’t poop it out. So in trying to help my crippled endocrine system, I’ve eliminated 90% of chemicals from my life. Do I think everyone needs to do this? No. Do I think it’s crucial for me? Absolutely. I’m already looking into recipes to making my own laundry detergent too. Just kidding! I did that last week…

-I’m only doing 20 minute workouts. When you work out for longer than 20 minutes, it causes a spike in your cortisol. This is normal, healthy and expected. But since I’m dealing with a cortisol surplus at the moment, my healing will come from flushing it from my blood stream and avoiding anything that will cause it to spike. So I am now doing walk/jog intervals 3x week, weights 2x week, and resting 2 days. I freaking love it. It was so so so difficult to push my body into workouts every day, but 20 minutes I can do. So my body will actually benefit more from rest than exertion.

-I’m creating a healthy sleep hygiene routine. We eat dinner earlier, and all electronics are off by 11pm, so that blue light doesn’t eff up my melatonin production. I take a bath with lavender, read my kindle, take all my night time supplements, and get my mind into sleep mode. THIS WAS SO HARD at first because R and I are crazy night owls. Our dinner time was regularly between 10-11pm. Like Spain! But I think now that I finally got some B’s in me, sleep is coming easier and easier. It’s CRAZY y’all.

Oh yeah…I’m also drinking apple cider vinegar on the reg. Bleh

These are minor changes, but I swear my insomnia has improved by about 35%. 35%!!!!!!!!! I was sleeping on average about 5-6 hours last week, and it feels like Christmas. By this time next year you might not even be able to tell I’m mutated.

I’ll be back in the office in 5 weeks for more blood work to see where my levels are.

In other news, I turned 34 last week! Happy birthday to me.
R also got me the most amazing birthday cake I’ve ever had. He’s a keeper.

spooky, scary

spooky, scary

Posted in Endometriosis | Tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , | 2 Comments

Hangout Fest 2015



Music + beach = risky fun

Thursday night we opted to skip the pre party and eat a gorgeous meal at The Gulf then headed to the Flora-bama Bar where we saw Adam Doleac perform. He was so good.

11050832_10153284761424513_2757750949363164411_nWe piled 18 people into 3 condos and this is what I woke up to every morning:

IMG_4888_2Ahhhh bliss.


Here’s who you should know:

Day one-

  • DJ Windows 98 (with Preservation Hall Jazz Band)
  • J Roddy Walston & The Business

Day two-

    • The Suffers
  • Beats Antique
  • Preservation Hall Jazz Band

Day three-

  • Tove Lo (amazing show!)
  • The Lone Bellow

The best show of the weekend goes to the Zac Brown Band.


this guy owns a bar and this was his very first yelp review upon opening. they are celebrating 10 yrs of business this year. boom!






Posted in Concerts, Festivals, Gulf Shores, Travel | Tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , | Leave a comment