Marriage
Tales of Withdrawals and Chronic Pain
I think that I need to give myself a break. During the first three weeks of a my antidepressant tapers (or in this case my being off them all together) I cannot allow myself to get caught up in anything more than a simple task.
Anything that gets even the slightest bit complicated sparks a raging fury that is followed by helpless tears and I can’t control it once it starts.
I learned this last night when I had to replace my credit card number on all the places I have it stored. Netflix and Hulu were a snap but Itunes was giving me fits. I realize today that I probably need to update to the newest version…whenever it’s outdated it gives me trouble trying to get to the most simple screen.
I ended up changing it on my phone, but not before damn near overturning my desk and everything on it from sheer anger. I wasted way to much time and put myself in a crap of a mood for no good reason. I just needed to walk away.
That is not an easy thing for a person as stubborn as me to do. So I ended up going bed in an upset state, sleeping poorly and having horrible rage filled dreams.
I just need to NOT.
To give myself some time and walk away when things start to get even the slightest bit difficult. It’s not a permanent thing. In a couple of weeks everything should start evening out and I can go back to being hard on myself if I have to.
Not now. Now is the time to practice self care. Time to crawl into bed and pull the covers over my head at 6:30 in the evening if I have to. This is not forever.
This will pass and life will get back to normal again. I just need to take it easy on myself until it does.
On that note, I will probably be journaling more to get this shit off my chest. It isn’t fair to my husband for him to be my only emotional punching bag right?
He’s being amazing. So great that every time he comes back with a supportive comment when I’m a seething bitch I feel horrible and dissolve into tears.
I mean, it would be easier if he was being a dick back…I’d at least feel justified.
I totally don’t mean that by the way.
I guess I should talk about the issues that he is going through right now.
About three or four months ago he started getting these random but pretty severe pains. They would travel from his shoulder for two days to his wrist for another two days to his knee to his elbow to his fingers and so on and so forth.
At first I was convinced it was due to the injectible cholesterol meds that his doc had put him on. He had been on them for a few months but one of the side effects was muscle pain. After much nagging on my part he got permission from his cardiologist to stop them for a couple of months to see. It seemed to get better for a small amount of time and then it got much worse.
When the pain traveled to his wrists and fingers he went to his GP, we suspected carpel tunnel and it was all but confirmed by the doc. He told him to get wrist braces and sent him for blood work.
The wrist braces helped a lot but he was still in a lot of pain and it would still move from one random body part to the other.
The blood work came back and the doc told him that he needed to go see a rheumatoid arthritis specialist and gave him a referral.
It took a week to get a hold of the specialist only to be told that he would have to fill out some forms to see if he would be accepted as a patient.
I’m sorry, what??
How does that even work? If you are in the business of helping people you shouldn’t be able to pick and choose who you help. I get it if your practice is full, but that wasn’t the case.
Three weeks later he was rejected as a patient with no reason given.
It turns out that getting into this kind of specialist in our area is not an easy task. It has been almost three months and he still hasn’t been able to get in to anyone yet. The man is in agony 70% of the time but apparently that isn’t a big deal to anyone by he and I.
He is missing work and when he IS at work he is so far behind on his load because he is in too much pain to get it all done.
He is popping Advil like candy and now I’m working about his stomach lining and kidneys because of it.
The worst part of it is because he can’t get seen, there is no light at the end of the tunnel. He is just in pain all the time and knows that there is no end in sight.
It’s really putting a strain on everything. His patience is gone and I don’t blame him. He’s gotten better, but he can still be quite snappy when his pain is severe. It’s in my nature to want to try and help and it aggravates him when I keep asking if he is okay or how I can help.
It bothers me a lot to see him in pain all the time and know there is nothing I can do at all to make it go away or even alleviate it a little.
I just want to make everything better for him.
I guess that is what he wants to do for me with my withdrawals too.
Our household is a hot mess right now, but we will get through it.
We will celebrate 19 years married and 20 years together on the 26th of this month.
I love that man with everything I have.
Ch-Ch-Changes
I guess given my last post, that it is safe to say that I have been feeling out of sorts since Rob’s heart attack. This is totally understandable…but it wasn’t to me.
I didn’t know what to feel, because this has never happened before. I felt like I had to be the strongest person on the planet and play super hero because he was the one that had a major health issue. He was the “weak” party in our partnership now and I had to therefore take over all the duties of the household…whatever that means.
Long story short – I was a hot mess. A red hot mess. I would be strong at home and pretend like everything was okay and spend my day at work having panic attacks and crying jags like they were going out of style.
I was in a constant state of panic. There was nothing else for me. I didn’t just fall into “My Crazy” this time. I held my nose and jumped right in.
It was horrible and exhausting and I knew I couldn’t keep it up.
After a little bit of research, I signed up for some online therapy. I’m not stranger to therapy, having done an 8 year stint in my late teens/early 20’s. I know that it works for me, but it’s so expensive and who has time to go into a weekly session?
The online therapy was much cheaper than in person when you took into consideration that you can write to them whenever you want and as much as you want and they would address your issues at least once a workday.
I have to say that so far it is really working for me. The first thing that my therapist asked me was what I was doing to take care of myself after Rob’s heart attack.
Wait, what? Take care of myself?? Um, I’m doing all I can just to make sure everything is going smoothly and Rob is doing okay.
She put a voice to the thought in my head that kept saying: “Everyone keeps asking how Rob is doing, but what about how I”M doing???” It felt so selfish to think that, but she told me it was totally valid and normal. What a relief!
On her suggestion, I started to research mediation and self hypnosis. I’ve been dabbling in that this week and I have to say I am feeling a lot better. It’s a combination of things actually.
I’ve cut out caffeine, which only fed my anxiety. Instead of coffee in the morning, I drink a steaming mug of Roiboos tea and I love it. It has a naturally calming effect and relaxes me. I have started lightly meditating with the help of an app on my phone, the same with some hypnotherapy session. I just started that the other day so I’m not sure how well that will go. It’s more for my specific anxiety of flying/driving, but on Thursday night I used the deep sleep session and holy cow did I wake up more refreshed than I have in weeks!
I’m taking my vitamins. The only thing I haven’t gotten around to is exercising again, but I will. I have faith.
So my initial reaction to the online counseling is a hearty thumbs up. It’s not for everyone obviously – but as a person who would rather express herself on the page instead of face to face, this is perfect for me and I see myself benefiting it from it a lot.
15 Years Ago
15 years ago I met a man that would change the course of my life as I knew it. I wouldn’t have thought so, since we met at a tiny little bar called the Holy Cow Brewpub at the end of a night where he had been on a very ambitious pub crawl with friends.
Neither he nor I were thinking we were going to meet our soul-mates that fateful weekend. I was visiting Las Vegas from Maine and he from Arizona. We were both just looking for a fun weekend get away with friends.
I’ve told our story a million times. I’m not willing to go through 100+ posts to see if I have told it on this blog or not, but this is a slightly different story.
15 years ago after a night of drinking and gambling and then sobering up a bit, Rob and I found ourselves on the steps of an exit way near the snack bar at Circus Circus noshing on what would become known as our “White Trash Breakfast”. It’s a simple recipe, because simple was all the snack bar did back then. It was a Pastrami sandwich, potato salad, nachos with fake yellow cheese sauce and beer. We sat on those steps while we talked, laughed and ate that morning and it was glorious. That was the beginning of our falling in love.
Over the years we have revisited the snack bar at Circus Circus to recreate the meal, swapping beer for soda. The last time we went back they had completely remodeled the place and we weren’t sure we were even in the right spot. But they had Pastrami sandwiches, potato salad and nachos with fake yellow cheese sauce so it felt right to us.
The bar that we met at no longer exists, which is sad to me because we also used it as pre-reception watering hole spot 14 years ago after our wedding, when the restaurant we had our reception at wasn’t ready for us yet. It is as much a part of our history as that white trash breakfast. But I guess someday that snack bar at Circus Circus may no longer carry Pastrami sandwiches or potato salad or even nachos with fake yellow cheese sauce.
It doesn’t matter, because our history is in us. Not some location that we went to a few times. My husband proved that to me tonight when he semi-surprised me by spending an hour in the kitchen tonight recreating our white trash breakfast. He made a small batch of potato salad, prepared some tortilla chips with fake yellow cheese sauce and we put the pastrami sandwiches together, standing side by side while we laughed and talked.
I’m so glad I sat on those steps and had that white trash breakfast with him 15 years ago. I’m even more glad that I married him a year later and have spent the last 15 years loving him and our life.
Anniversaries.
Tomorrow I will have married for 13 years. Tomorrow also marks the 14 year anniversary of the day I met the man that I’ve been married to that long.
I always said I would never get married. Growing up the child of a divorce wasn’t really the deciding factor in it. I just couldn’t fathom the idea of living with someone and getting along with them for the rest of my life. My longest relationship before I met my husband was only six months long. Six months. I got bored really easy. I loved the chase of dating but once the whole boyfriend girlfriend thing happened I was like, NEXT!
Sounds horrible, but it was true. I wanted to find “the one” and fall head over heels in love but I was a realist and if it hadn’t happened, it probably wasn’t going to.
I didn’t intend to meet a man and fall in love on that trip to Vegas in 1999. My intention was to have a fun weekend of drinking and gambling with some new friends that I had never actually met and my mom in an exciting city I had never been to before. And while all of that *did* happen, it was also the weekend I met the love of my life.
He was not physically what I would have said was my type. He did have the long hair going for him, but he was not something I would have picked out in a line up of men I would say I would have been attracted to. Having said that, neither was I for him. But he made me laugh. The connection was definitely helped out by a couple of his friends(our friends now) who both in turn planted a bug in each of our ears that the other might be attracted to us.
Our first kiss happened on the morning of the night we met. We had been up all night gambling with those friends until they finally bid us goodbye so they could go to sleep and we were left alone. He said he would like to walk me to my room and I let him. Once we were there he asked me if I would like to kiss him. Damn, no beating around the bush there! I said that I didn’t know, did he want to kiss me? He said yes and so we did. It was a nice kiss. I was staying in the hotel with my mom so I didn’t invite him in and that was how we left it.
The next day there was more gambling and drinking and kissing. There were meals and things in between but I mostly remember the kissing. We were both staying with people in our hotel rooms so it didn’t amount to anything other than making out in the hallway by the ice machine on my floor until a security guard asked if everything was okay. “Why yes Sir, everything is perfect!” In our gambling, we had earned enough to get a room of our own but Rob shut me down on that. In the long run, I’m glad he did. If we had slept together in Vegas I’m not sure things would have turned out the way that they did. I might have just chalked it up to what happens in Vegas stays in Vegas. Who knows?
When I got back home to Maine there was an email waiting from Rob in my inbox. It said: “I just got home and my dog kissed me. You are a better kisser, but he has a longer tongue.” How could you not fall in love with that?? 😀
Over the next month we talked on the phone, emailed and chatted online nonstop. In September, a month after meeting him, he cashed in his frequent flier miles and came out to Maine to visit me for an extended weekend. When it was time for him to leave, I dropped him off at the airport and came home to where I was living with my mom. I walked in the door and she said: “Well?” I said: “I think I’m moving to Arizona.” She nodded and said that she figured as much.
A month later in October I got laid off at my job at the bank. When that happened, Rob extended the invitation to fly me out to live with him in Arizona. It wasn’t a very hard decision for me to make. I loved my mom and my friends, and had never lived anywhere other than Maine, but I had fallen hard and fast for this man like no other I had ever met and I knew I would be with him for the rest of my life.
A month later in November we took a Thanksgiving trip out to California for me to meet his family. While he was giving me a tour of the school that he went to (Stevenson) he proposed to me. We were in the chapel. I was up on the part where the preacher stands looking at all the stained glass windows when the clock started chiming twelve noon. I turned around and Rob was on one knee, ring extended.
So that was it. From meeting to engagement in three months. When you know, you know. We were married in Las Vegas a year to the day that we met.
Tomorrow we will have known each other 14 years and been married for 13. I can’t imagine anything else.
A Weekend To Myself.
So once a summer a couple that Rob and I are friendly with through the theater throw a great big party at their house in the country. They live even further out than we do. It’s only ten miles away from our house but it feels like way more.
Rob attended last year alone because I had theater commitments. He said it was HOT! Stifling hot, with no breeze. And while he enjoyed himself there was a long period of boredom on that Saturday for him because he hadn’t been prepared for the heat. He had been prepared to take a nap in the tent but the heat proved that not to be an option. So he read. My husband doesn’t read, so you KNEW he had to be bored. That night however there was much music jamming and he was a happy guy.
I had no theater commitments this year but given his account of the heat and boredom I opted to stay home with the dogs this time. It saved us from either having to burden his parents with watching the dogs or paying money to board them at the vets. I wasn’t that into the idea of camping in 100 degree weather and then watching a bunch of people play music.
So last night we stopped at the market and got sandwiches. One or Rob so he would have a good hearty dinner that night and one for me so I wouldn’t have to cook. We came home and Rob packed everything up for his camping trip.
In doing so he made a lot of noise. Loud banging and grunting and exclamations. None of this was bad but all of a sudden Pappy jumped up on the couch and clung to my side. He could not be consoled. The nearest I can figure is he thought Rob was mad and it made him nervous. He is a very sensitive little dog. As I’ve said before, we think he was abused at the hands of a man before we adopted him. We don’t know for sure of course, but when we first got him you couldn’t move your hands too fast around him or he would crouch in fear. You also couldn’t touch his tail, ears or feet without him snapping at you. He has come a long way over the years of us loving him but last night only validated our thoughts of abuse. He was so scared that Rob was mad that he wouldn’t leave my lap, constantly licking at any part of me that he could get(he licks when he’s nervous).
Finally I made mention to Rob of what was happening and he came over and sat with us on the couch. Pappy allowed him to pet him from where he was on my lap but wouldn’t go towards him at all. Poor little guy.
Rob eventually left and the dogs then kept vigil at the door waiting for him to return for about fifteen minutes. After that they got up on the couch and looked at me accusingly as if to ask what I had done to drive their father away. Finally they settled in and we watched Glee all night. It isn’t one of Rob’s favorite shows so it was nice to know I could watch it without bothering him.
This morning the dogs woke up to their internal alarm clocks as they always do at five thirty AM. Normally Rob gets up and feeds them and takes them out but with him not here I realized I had to haul my lazy ass out of bed. I took them out and then fed them and put myself back to bed. The dogs wrestled next to me for a while and I realized that I wouldn’t be able to sleep for a bit until they settled down so I read until about seven and then fell back asleep.
Woke around nine thirty. I didn’t want to, but the dogs decided it was time to go back outside again.
I ate some of my leftover sandwich and then played Candy Crush Saga for like an hour and a half(SHUT UP! It’s addicting!). After eleven I knew the library was open so I hopped in the car and headed over there but even though their website said they had the book I wanted, they did not so I grabbed a copy of “Sh*t My Dad Says” for bathroom reading and came home.
The rest of the day has been pretty unexciting. I scooped the poop in the yard and then cut down all the grape leaves along our fence. A shower and redesigned the layout for this blog. The rest of the night should prove relaxing and uneventful. I plan on finishing Mockingjay and going to bed early. This sinus thing has come back with a vengeance and I’m not happy about that.
Sooooo, in review:
I totally take for granted the fact that Rob gets up with the dogs every morning -even weekends- and let’s me sleep in as late as I possibly can.
Also I find myself jumping at shadows and locking the door every single time I come back in. It’s worth noting that when I was outside picking dog poop the metal fence gate thingie that closes off our driveway opened about a foot and then slammed shut on it’s own. THERE WAS NO ONE THERE! That really kinda freaked me out. *shudder*
In general the time to myself is good, but I kinda miss having him to talk to. Even when I took weekends to myself in a hotel room I would call him or text him. Right now he has no phone coverage where he is. 🙁 Yeah, after almost 14 years together even less than two days apart and I miss him. <3
I love that he cares…
I love my husband so much. I love how much he cares and feels.
Example:
Rob is a musician. Occasionally he works with other musicians that he wants to keep in contact with. Two years ago he played a gig with a band out of California but not local. When he found out that they had spent the previous night sleeping on the beach because they tour out of their van he extended an offer that if they were ever in the area again they could crash at our place.
Two years later they are coming through Monterey as they start a tour in Oregon. They asked if they could crash on our floor.
Now, I’ve never met them and I’m not exactly stoked with strangers sleeping on my property but I do think it is rude to extend and offer and then take it back. Plus I think my husband is a pretty good judge of character(he married me right?) so I agreed that they could stay.
Rob told them that they could come and that we would BBQ.
They responded that two of them were Vegetarians.
Rob being Rob, has set about making a Vegetarian feast for these guys. My Vegan taco soup is currently simmering on the stove. He will BBQ chicken and bacon but for the most part he is going to set up a baked potato and nacho bar. We have procured all the fixings for baked potato toppings as well as nachos. We have artichokes to be grilled on the BBQ with a nice selection of veggies.
He found out what they like to drink and so our fridge is stocked with coke and cranberry juice and our bar is stocked with Rum.
His only goal in all of this is to send them off on a tour where they will be comfortable and well rested. He is planning on sending them off with a cooler and all the leftovers they can pack in the van so that they don’t have to stop for food the first couple of meals.
They will not crash on our floor but they will have our bed, couch and air mattress if they so choose. We will sleep in the upper house(while this sounds like a selfless act, it actually involves a lot less cleaning and therefore makes our lives easier.)
He just thinks of all these things. There is absolutely no benefit for him to do this. The only thing it does is make him feel good by getting these guys out on a good start.
I will probably not meet them. They are coming in around nine tonight and I will probably be in bed already given this sinus thing I’m currently fighting. But I know they will be well taken care of.
Rob is truly a good host.
Five Things I Would Have A Tough Time Living Without
I was originally going to title this as 5 things I couldn’t live without but then I started taking it way too literally and thinking that while I am quite fond of some of these things, I would in fact be able to live without them. It wouldn’t be easy, but I wouldn’t DIE without them. If I were to make that list it would be things like: Air, water, food…not that interesting of a list.
Anyhoo!
1) My husband
We will have been together for 13 years in August. Before I met him I can easily say that I was very much that girl that never wanted to get married. I was a child of a messy divorce and was raised from age 12 by my mother and her best friend that was also going through a divorce at the same time. Oh the horror stories my poor adolescent brain heard. I don’t blame my mom, she was going through a very hard time and didn’t know how else to react.
I had boyfriends as an adult but the longest relationship I had was 6 months in duration. I would just get bored easily. I loved the chase and then once I landed them it got old fast.
It took me exactly one weekend to figure out that Rob was the one for me and I was going to uproot my entire life on the east coast to move all the way across the country because I couldn’t live without him.
We have had our ups and downs as any relationship does but I am happy to report that there are usually more ups than downs. We compliment and adapt to each other’s personalities and make a pretty good fit I think. I have traveled without him and it’s not like I sit there and miss him the whole time, but it sure is nice to come home to him when the trip is done.
2) My Dogs
I am a dog person. Anyone who has met me for even a short amount of time will undoubtedly have already seen a picture of my dogs. They are in fact my children, and yes I am THAT girl that baby talks to her dogs, buys them outfits and refers to herself as their “mommy”. Not ashamed! I should also mention that no matter how spoiled they are, my dogs are well trained and are really good doggies. They want nothing more than to get up in my lap and shower my face with kisses. Where else can you get that sort of unconditional love? And if you said kids you are only half right. If you have ever told a child they couldn’t have or do something then you have probably dealt with the “pouting child” or the “angry child” that will backtalk and or ignore you when you try to hug them. Nope, not with dogs! I can scold my dog for misbehaving and two seconds later she is happy to be back up in my lap giving me love.
3) Music
“I was born with music inside me. Music was one of my parts. Like my ribs, my kidneys, my liver, my heart. Like my blood. It was a force already within me when I arrived on the scene. It was a necessity for me-like food or water.” — Ray Charles
That pretty much sums it up. Music is so incredibly universal. It can change your mood in a matter of seconds, but it good or bad. I confess that I cannot play an instrument. I have tried to learn several and I have failed miserably at them all. That doesn’t stop me however, from truly appreciating the magnificence of music in all its forms. I have my favorites of course, everyone does, but I don’t think I could ever really hate something that was musical. I’ve often said that if I had to choose between being deaf or being blind I would have to choose blind because I don’t think I could handle never hearing music again.
4) Writing
I’ve written short stories since I was a kid. I never really knew why I felt the need to other than I LOVED to read and if I couldn’t find the subject that I wanted to read about, I wrote it.
I have ALWAYS kept a diary. I remember as an adolescent having an ivory colored one that had one tiny page for each day of the week and a cheesy gold lock on the front that never kept my brother out of it. Not that I had much to write about at that age. It was more of a review of what I had done that day kind of thing. As I hit my teenage years I would spew pages and pages of angst into notebooks that I would hide in locking cedar chest that used to belong to my mother when she was a kid. I have since thrown them out because I’m embarrassed at the amount of self pity and lack of self confidence in those spiral bound pads of paper. I know that it is every teenager’s rite of passage to go through all of that hell, and it REALLY does feel like hell at that time, but looking back it was never as bad as I made it out to be. I would have never listened to someone that tried to tell me that at the time though…probably would have written about them with venom in my journal.
I go through long periods of time when I don’t write at all. If I were to sit down and research it, I would probably find that those periods usually coincide with my periods of depression. When I resume writing, I always feel lighter. Be it just a short story or a small blog entry. I feel a certain release with every line I write. It is a healing hobby for sure, so no matter how long I go without doing it, I could never give it up completely.
5) Laughter
I love to laugh. The second thing I noticed about my husband was the fact that he made me laugh. In case you are wondering, the first thing I noticed was his hair. I am a sucker for long hair on a guy and he has the most gorgeous strawberry blond curls.
I love the kind of laughter where you can’t catch your breath. My mother and I can get into such giggle fits that we literally start crying. Big sobbing tears because we can’t stop. It’s usually over the stupidest thing like her mispronouncing a word or snorting when she laughed. God I love that.
I also love to make people laugh. Growing up a painfully shy child I have to say I have come out of my shell by leaps and bounds. I like to think I have a pretty good sense of humor and it really brings me joy to make another person laugh. It’s usually at a snarky comment I make which can tend to lead people to believe I’m not always the nicest person. However, if you get to know me, you will find that my sarcasm is usually all in fun. Unless you piss me off. Then I have a hard time keeping my mouth shut, but that is a whole other blog entry.
It is a corny old saying, but I do REALLY believe that laughter IS the best medicine.
It's Amazing What We Can Learn About Ourselves…
So I don’t think I mentioned it in this blog but my husband got a gig playing guitar with a local theater company doing a production of “Repo! The Genetic Opera.”
It came at a really good time for him because he was just finishing up the Wharf to Wharf and the only thing on the horizon music wise for him was another round of Christmas music.
Long story short, I got a part in the play as part of the ensemble/chorus. I was really scared to to audition and even more petrified to actually get on the stage in front of people. Over the last couple of weeks I have come to realize a few things about myself.
I don’t think I ever fully realized it, but I’ve spent most of my life trying to go unnoticed by strangers. I can only imagine that it stems from being overweight and painfully shy in my childhood. My father wasn’t the nicest man and though my memories are few, I have heard that he wasn’t shy about complaining the weight of his children.
I remember in grade school singing solos in the school play. I didn’t want to but there wasn’t much of a choice in the matter as our school was very small and everyone had to participate(I got kidney stones one year and was so happy despite the pain I was in because I was hospitalized and didn’t have to do the school play). Let’s just say kids are cruel and no one likes to be made fun of.
Now, if I get to know you pretty well and we get along, you know that I am NOT shy at that point. In fact, I can be kind of loud and obnoxious at times(who me? Never!) However, if I just met you, don’t expect me to show it. The little shy fat girl comes out very timidly when I first meet people. Especially if it is a large group of people I don’t know. You can bet in that case I am going to do my best impersonation of the wallpaper. If you can’t see me, you can’t make fun of me.
It has gotten better as I get older and meet more people but in my mind I tend to want to scream: “Don’t pay attention to me!!!”
Having said that, you can only imagine how nerve-wracking it was for me to have to get up in front of a bunch of people I don’t know and not being allowed to try and blend into the background.
When I was finally able to relax and take a step back I realized that everyone is there for the same reason. To BE noticed. Isn’t that the whole point of performing? And not only that, but I’m not me. I’m playing a character and so is everyone else! No one is going to judge me or make fun of me because we are all here for the common cause. As long as I don’t suck eggs at what I am doing, it is going to be fine.
It was a huge Ah-ha! moment for me. Once I embraced it I was able to feel at ease and actually enjoy what I was doing.
Last night after I got home I was almost unable to get to sleep because my brain was humming with how much fun I had and how much I was going to enjoy the next rehearsal!
Anyone who has acted or performed might think this feeling is a no brain-er but to me, it was a fabulous feeling. I am so happy I found it and I can’t wait to keep acting after this performance is over. 😀
Dress Shopping
So today I finally went out and looked for the dress that I am going to wear for the vow renewal.
When Rob and I originally tied the knot I weighed over 300 pounds. I’m not sure how much over because at one point our scale broke, and well, who really wants to keep weighing themselves once you have reached 300?? Anyhoo, my mother in law generously offered to make my wedding dress and I was very grateful. I can’t imagine anything more horrifying than going wedding dress shopping when you are the size that I was. She made a beautiful dress and a lace shirt that went over the top to cover up my flabby arms. It was very nice but when you look like a whale, nothing you put on really ever looks good ya know?
What I’m trying to say is that I never did the dress shopping thing for my wedding and I was happy with that. However, now that I have lost some weight I’m kind of excited to see what this whole dress shopping thing is like.
Cut to today.
Rob had to help his dad with some yard work at their house in Salinas so I dropped him off and headed out. I stopped at Walmart to get some new sports bras and running shirts and then at Fashion Bug for some regular bras and one impulse buy of an 18 dollar dress and the jewelry to go with it. Then I headed off to Campus Bridal Shop.
I had heard from several people that this was the goto place for dresses. I guess it has been around FOREVER and a lot of people get their dresses there.
It wasn’t anything like I imagined. Seems silly now but in my head I would walk into the shop and try on all these different dresses and be able to see how they look on me. Not so. What were hanging on the racks were sample dresses. Most in a size 14 but they did vary. So you look through the dresses and find the one you want. You give it to the lady who then orders it in the size and color that you want(I can only imagine that they must take your measurements before they order but I’m not sure, I wasn’t purchasing today only looking) and when it comes in they give it to you. To me that is kind of weird because what if the dress doesn’t fit you like you wanted it to? Are you out the money and it’s tough luck or do they work with you to exchange or otherwise to alterations? All questions that I will ask when I am actually ready to plunk down the money.
Anyhoo, I had an image in my mind of the dress that I wanted and even drew it out. I left it at work of course or you would be seeing a picture of the drawing right now. 🙂
I was able to find a dress that had about 85% of what I was wanting in the dress in my mind so I think that is going to be the dress I get. The colors are hideous on the sample dress, I am aware of this. Brown and green? Ewww. But here are the pictures I took of it:
Okay, now imagine the brown as hot pink and the green as black:
Nice right?? The only differences between this and my dream dress were that my dream dress was a halter and had a poofier skirt. Oh and I’m totally going to ditch that flower in the middle of the bow.
I’m pretty sure I’m going to go back next weekend and make the big purchase.
The only other dress that jumped out at me while there was this one:
I love the color and I love the flowiness but I think it is a little too plain. I like the contrast of the black in the other dress much better. Gives it more of a unique feel.
So what do you think??? Comment and let me know!
Childless, not loveless.
Rob and I have been together for almost 11 years now.
We decided a long time ago that we do not want children. A lot of people really don’t understand this and I’m not sure why. I mean, I respect your decision to want to have a family. So why can’t you respect mine to go child free?
When we first got together I was on the fence. I love kids, I always have. My first job was working at a preschool three days a week and I LOVED it. I enjoyed playing games with the kids and running around on the playground with them. I couldn’t wait to have a kid of my own, eventually. I certainly wasn’t looking to conceive at a young age, but I always just assumed I would be a mom some day.
The older I got, the more the thought of becoming a mommy became less and less of a priority. I had lots of friends who already had babies and while I loved helping out with them, I noticed the lack of freedom and didn’t really want that for myself at that age.
“At that age” turned out to not be an age at all. It wasn’t about being a wild kid, or wanting to experience my 20’s at their fullest. I was just not cut out to be a mom.
After first getting together with Rob and getting married, the assumption that I would have kids came back. It was programed into me from birth that you get married and you have babies. We didn’t discuss it other than the fact that we didn’t want to have kids “yet”, so we always used protection.
As the years went by, we had one pregnancy scare that told me I was definitely NOT ready to have kids. That feeling never went away and at 35 years old, it still stands. We have always said that if it happens, it happens. However, we have always taken every precaution to make sure it DOESN’T happen because it isn’t really what we want.
Understand that I have had moments when I have held a friends baby, or watched a sappy movie and I have come away saying to myself that I wanted a baby. That usually lasts all of about three hours and then I come to the realization that I am far to selfish to have a child.
It sounds horrible to say it, I realize that. Here is the bottom line: I love my life. I love being able to call up Rob on a Wednesday saying that I want to go away for the weekend and boom, we do. I love to sleep and can’t function unless I get at least eight hours a night, nor would I want to. I really don’t want to be the person to care for a helpless human life for more than a few hours. I enjoy my life and I don’t want anything messing with it.
That being said, at least I realize how selfish I am. I think it is pretty great that I know that, while I know I could be a good mother, it would end up being a burden in my mind. I’m not afraid to say that while I know I would love my child, I also know I would end up resenting them, and no matter how I tried to hide that from them, kids pick up on that shit. I don’t want to be the reason my child is in therapy 20 years from now.
As an alternative, Rob and I have always had dogs. They are our furry children. They provide us with the unconditional love of a child with less responsibility. I foresee us always having dogs as they bring us great joy without the burden of finding childcare and such and I am okay with that.
I guess what I am trying to say is that even though I am a happily married woman, I don’t want to have kids and there is no shame in that.
I am a 40 something married woman living in California.
I enjoy knitting and crocheting, watching crap movies, snuggling with my two adorable dogs and trying to be a good person.
