2009 NYC Gay Pride

2009 NYC Gay Pride
Originally uploaded by patch_ny

I was so thrilled to be a part of this year's Pride celebration. I got to reconnect with my long-lost blogger friends, and made some new friends too. I'll post something more about it later. It was an amazing day.

Photo Credit: Patch_ny on Flickr! Love you hot stuff.

Sunshine, Bagels, and Love

I'm feeling so much better, in every way.

The flu is finally gone, out of my system. From my research, it is entirely possible that I did indeed have the Flu du Jour, H1N1, Popularly known as Swine Flu. Apparently it is a short lived flu, which mine was, and isn't any more deadly or vicious than other common human flus. I was in the city, both Chicago and Manhattan, and I was at the local mall, so I have been breathing air with tons of strangers. It may also have an incubation time of several days, which explains why I was in public on Saturday but didn't feel symptoms until Tuesday.

Oink, oink. I was born in the Year of the Pig.

Also, I released so much negativity a few days prior. Between writing the blog post about my Anger, and later on, confiding in my husband and indulging in a little rage fest in the car on the way home from the gym, I opened myself up and flushed a lot of bad vibes. I feel clean again.

I even purged my closet yesterday. I felt restless, but still not sure it would be wise to go to the gym just yet. So I cleaned out my closet and donated SEVEN pairs of shoes. I am a shoe addict, so for me, that's a big deal. Some of those shoes I've been hanging on to for almost a decade. They look hot, but I never wear them. They are painful. OUT. OUT WITH THE PAIN.

I even indulged in some retail therapy on Saturday, and bought *Confess! I must confess!* TWO new pairs of shoes. Of course this motivated my closet purge. I made a deal with myself that I would buy NO MORE SHOES unless I was prepared to throw out an existing pair. So here I went. But the cool thing: The shoes I bought are far more practical, and comfortable, than the ones I donated. One is a pair of silvery sandals, but they are aerosoles, and super-comfy, and HALF-PRICE. The other is a pair of platform wedge-heel all-black leather sandals with woven leather straps that wrap around the ankle and buckle. They're classy and edgy all at once. And crazy comfortable. And HALF-PRICE.

I also bought some $5 tank tops at Old Navy, and was thrilled to see that they are bringing some old clothes of mine back to life. I have a skirt that I never wear because it doesn't go with much, and it does nothing for my figure. These tanks are long, and layer, and one is the perfect shade of grey. Two of them ruche perfectly, and top the skirt like they were made for it. I have so missed that flippy little skirt... and so has G.

Doing the wardrobe purge always makes me feel re-oriented. So as of yesterday evening, I was feeling relaxed, happy, and clean again, inside and out.

I honestly don't think about my pregnancy very much. I'm in a really good place about it. I'm more grateful for the experience than anything else. Once I was aware of it, it was a truly magical two weeks. This was a test for G and I, and we passed with flying colors. It reaffirmed how well-matched we are, and how perfectly in sync we are about the larger things in life. In a sense it brought us closer together. We have been more affectionate lately, more grateful for each other, and more eager to show it. We know we have come through something very deep, together, holding hands and hearts every step of the way.

G and I attended Friday night services at our local temple last week. It was a "Rock Shabbat," with all the prayers sung in modern musical style, with a band. The Cantor is incredible, and managed to make it sound truly cool and heartfelt, rather than cheesy. She's the Jewish Sandi Patti. I wanted to attend, and G was pretty pooped that evening, but he was happy to attend with me, and I loved the service. It was all music, from start to finish. My language.

Last week, I met with the Rabbi for an hour, to discuss details of my conversion. I suppose it's natural, after all this, that now seems like a good time to get that project off the back burner. Especially after my communion with the Goddess last week. My local rabbi is very cool, rather young, soft-spoken and adorable sparkling eyes and a childlike smile. I'm very comfortable with him. He's sending me the schedule of classes, which I am SO excited to take! G will be attending with me, and I'm thrilled to start this new journey.

I feel like I've gone as far as I can go with my independent studies and exploration of Judaism. All the rest of my question are only going to be answered by embarking on this quest. So... the time is right.

I will also be attending regular Friday night services. That's one hell of a commitment, for G and me! So I'm busy now, every Friday night from 8 to 9. Oh well. The parties never start until 11 anyway. Even the Karaoke doesn't start until 9:30.

I'm back on my feet... and in a couple of hours, I'll be back at the gym. And in four weeks, I'll be back at the beach! And then... hopefully, shortly thereafter... I'll be back to babymaking, G-d willing.

Blessed Be.

GAWD that moon is bright

I feel hungover, like I've been passed out for three days. Meaning, I do feel better, I think the flu is passing away from me. My body is EXHAUSTED.

In spite of this, I'm going to TRY and make it to services tonight at our local temple. If nothing else I know the music is great there.

I feel like I've come through a war. A familiar feeling. I have been at war with myself, in a way. Not wanting to admit to some feelings, finally dragging them out of myself, opening myself up to the rage. Now the storm is passing, and I'm feeling... not exactly less vulnerable, but more empowered to armor myself and get back into life. I made a grocery list, I'm cleaning the house, I'm thinking about slowly, gently, doing a little bit of laundry. If only the laundry room didn't involve going up and down all those stairs. *BAER*

It's nice to have this blog to vomit into, expel all the darkness. Facebook is great, but I need this too.

It's been two weeks since the D&C. Actually, as of last Wednesday, it was two weeks. Meaning I can have sex again. Making it even MORE UNFAIR that I got the flu RIGHT WHEN I COULD FINALLY GET SOME. Just PROLONG MY AGONY for G-d's sake. So if I'm healthy enough to go to shul tonight, I am SO getting some after.

Flu Day 2

Feeling somewhat better. Anything better than yesterday I am grateful for. Yesterday all I could was, to use G's expression, lie under the covers and jitter. I knocked myself out with Nyquil so I could get some sleep, and that seems to have helped a bit. Today I still have a low-grade fever, but the muscle stiffness is better, and my sinuses have opened up. Still have a headache though.

I had to cancel out on a night with Dave that I've been looking forward to for so long... crappy time to get sick. Thank G-d for Bufferin and Sudafed and tea. And soup. And Nyquil.

Influenza

Today, I am sick.

I got the achy-shaky body. I got the upper respiratory distress. WITH accompanying sore throat from choking on phlegm all last night. I got the fatigue. I got the restlessness.

I haven't hardly been out!! I haven't hardly seen anyone!

Christ. I have some work I really wanted to finish today. I can barely fucking type.

Shakes fist at the netherworld HEY! What else you got? BRING IT ON!

Abyss

I'm tired. I don't feel like talking. I feel like I've already talked everything through with G, my parents, and K&L. I'm just tired.

I am angry. I'm really pissed. I was derailed. I was doing SO WELL. And then SHIFT. and then PSYCHE! SHIFT again. And now...

I was feeling better about myself than I have felt in years. I was healthy, strong, happy, and enjoying life on deeper levels than I had experienced in so long, I'd forgotten about them. I was excited to face each new day. I had my life back, my groove back, my Self. I was in touch, in tune, and in control, and what I couldn't control, I wasn't bothered by. It was an incredible three months.

Then, sometime in April, I got sick.

I thought I had some weird flu, or had become lactose-intolerant. All of a sudden my steel-cut oats, which I make with skim milk rather than water, were making me nauseous. Even my coffee, which I take with plenty of evaporated skim milk, made me queasy. I got headaches. I was heavily fatigued. I started taking naps in the afternoon, and switched to tea and toast with peanut butter for breakfast in the morning. I tried drinking lots of water, but I just had to pee all the time.

Three weeks I suffered through this! I would feel a little better for a few hours, then it would come back. One half-glass of wine at a party made me feel hungover the whole next day!

Turns out... I was pregnant.

Well damn!

Should have seen it coming, really. G and I had been "flying without a net" for six months. This was what was supposed to happen. If anything, I had been a bit nervous that it hadn't happened yet. Back home in Illinois, girls and women pop out babies every time they take a shit. Out here in the east, everyone has to have fertility treatments. I don't know what the difference it. It's not age - everyone from 15 to 40 is reproducing like rabbits back home. I have always imagined it's the toxins in the environment out here; in farm country where I grew up, everything's pretty natural. But who knows. I'm allergic to the earth, and I thrived in the toxic city, so I wondered if I hadn't become someone who would need medical help to have babies.

Nope. Knocked up the old fashioned way! And was I ever excited!

And I COULDN'T TELL ANYONE. Riiiight. How the fuck was I supposed to sit on THIS!? I told my parents immediately, and then told them THEY had to sit on it. I told Kristin and Lisa, and then immediately put out the disclaimer that, after age 35, there is a 25% change of miscarriage. So we were all feet-on-the-ground about this.

And then... yup. Miscarriage. Two weeks after I got confirmation of the pregnancy. The tests came back positive, and then two and a half weeks later, I was scheduled for a D&C.

I went for my first sonogram, and I was about 7 weeks along. The heart was beating, everything looked good. Two weeks later, I went for my second sonogram, and brought G with me. I was SO EXCITED. And nothing. Quiet. No heartbeat. The baby was gone. Just a clump of cells stuck in my uterus, doing nothing. Nobody home. the Friday before Memorial Day weekend.

So I had to go back to the office the following Tuesday for a D&C.

That was a surprisingly easy experience. My team of doctors is WONDERFUL. I didn't feel anything, I didn't even feel the needle when they gave me the IV for the anesthesia. The nurses, the anesthesiologist, my doctor, everyone, took such great care of me. My friend Jo came with me, and brought me back to her apartment to recuperate afterward. I spent most of the afternoon and evening sleeping. She made me some dumplings, and gave me lots of water to drink, and eventually, at about 6 or so, G came to pick me up.

I felt fine.

The next day, Wednesday, I went and got my hair blown out. The day after that, Thursday, G and I flew to Chicago for a long weekend with my parents and Kristin & Lisa.

In Chicago, I bled. I had been warned that would happen. I was prepared. It was like a heavy period. I had cramps, but I had plenty of Advil, and I had the antibiotics that I'd been given. Kristin and Lisa were wonderful, letting me basically dictate what we did in the city. They were the best medicine of all, keeping me laughing, making me feel loved, and wanted, being what family is supposed to be. My parents were wonderful too. We did a lot that weekend - shopping, restaurants, a great blues club, a Cubs game, a 50's music concert, and I even used the hotel's gym facilities in the mornings. I had the best support system a girl could ask for.

I was not sad about the loss of the pregnancy, not really. I was disappointed, but it's different... I was not crying hysterically. It did not feel like a death. the embryo had been "chromosomally deficient", meaning it was developing so abnormally that it just petered out. I never felt connected to a little person, never felt like a Mom. I was thrilled at the idea, knowing that was coming next... but we never got to that phase.

However, I did gain 13 pounds. I stopped doing Weight Watchers when I realized I might be pregnant. I had already slowed down my gym workouts considerably, since I'd been feeling so crappy for a couple of weeks. So altogether, my fitness and diet regime was largely abandoned for about 1 month. And during that time I gained back all the weight I had lost and more. And my flat muscular stomach that I was working so hard for? Now it's Flabby rolls.

It didn't mind. I wanted to be pregnant. I was ok with it. But... now... I have nothing. I lost my super-healthy body, and I lost the pregnancy. And now here I am. Starting all over again.

That was incredibly, amazingly, NOT FAIR.

I am SO ANGRY.

That was a really, mean, dirty trick. What am I supposed to learn from this experience? That I shouldn't bother trying to the healthiest person I can? That my drive for self-improvement was... what? Something I'm not entitled to? GODDAMN that's not right! I know what I can be! I deserve to be it! I'm still young enough to have a flat stomach, to be able to run, dance, lift, do all the things that I love doing. So I get pregnant RIGHT AT THAT MOMENT, when I'm feeling so great about what I can do for myself, when I'm feeling at the peak of my own power and ability, when for once in my life, I don't have to work, and I get to FOCUS ON ME.

NOPE! What was I thinking? Baby time!

YAY! Baby! I want that! I'm ready for that!

OPS! NOPE! PSYCHE!

but... wait... why...

What else is going to snatched away from me?

I'm back on Program, as they say in Weight Watchers. I enjoy it. I love to cook. So I'm back doing that. I'm back to the gym. I'm training again. I've gone up in all my weights. I'm doing 100 calories a minute worth of cardio.

I'm angry, and sad. I don't have the heart anymore.

I'm sure this will pass. But I am just... tired, and cranky, and unmotivated. The depressive part of me, the part that I am treating with Prozac, is getting very powerful. I feel it rising up inside me like a demon. It's dragging me to the couch, all I want to do is watch TV, snack, and sleep all day.

I REFUSE TO GIVE IN TO THAT.

I know life is never fair. I do not expect it to be so. But this experience, for all my wisdom, for all I believe I am prepared for, for all my acceptance of the world and the ways of nature, this experience has blindsided me, and left me reeling. I did not expect to be reeling from this.

G has been wonderful. But I know this is another dark tunnel that I must move through alone.

It has been a long time since I had to do this, the tunneling.

This afternoon, I lit a pink and purple candle for love and spirituality, and set my goddess statue next to it. I set a fresh, ripe, red apple on the other side of Her. She stood there, hands folded in prayer, eyes downcast, her hair falling over her shoulders, in her long robes, standing on top of the world, one pointed slipper poking out from under her dress. She prays for me, I thought to myself. She prays for all of us.

I prayed. I thanked Her for the blessing of fertility. I thanked her for my friends, my family, my husband. I thanked her for the experience of being pregnant, for those few weeks were empowering and enlightening to me, in ways I cannot yet put into words. I am so grateful to have had this experience.

I asked what lesson there is to learn? I vowed to remember the feelings, all of them, the joy, the excitement, the disappointment, the anger, the fear, the confusion, and my journey through trust. I will remember them all, for the same reason I remember all my past experiences with horror and joy - so that when I meet others who are going through the same thing, and they come to me, wanting to talk, with fear and confusion in their faces, I can understand them, and hopefully be guided to say the right things. I remember, so I can help others.

I do not want to be angry, but I am only human, and we get angry. I feel like a child whose ice cream cone has been blown out of her hands by a strong gust of wind, screaming and crying in disappointment and frustration. I know I can get another scoop. I know we will conceive again. But why did I have to go through this!? IT'S JUST SO UNFAIR.

I am a child, throwing a tantrum. So I turned to the goddess this afternoon, and I curled up in the lap of the great mother, and let her stroke my hair, and she comforted me.

It is not yet time for you to know the reasons why. I am sorry you are angry, and sad, and disappointed... you have every right to your feelings. You are a precious child, and you are loved, and you will be a mother someday, and a great one. I live in you. Let yourself cry, and heal, and sleep. Rest. You have been strong and brave, rest now, my Amazon warrior. Let me drive for awhile. Trust that I will not steer you wrong.

I tilted my head back to the heavens. I prayed to the father God, to the son and brother, to the sister and daughter. I prayed to the spirit of family, Thank you, as I cried, thank you, it was wonderful, I am so grateful, thank you, thank you, thank you...

The burnt smell of a too-long candle wick wafted to my nose. I heard my cat meow. I still have a life, a home, responsibilities. As the candle burned, I got up and fed my cat, and she ran to me, purring, this tiny furry life who is utterly dependent on G and I. My feline child, with her trusting eyes.

I communed with the spirit a while longer, then I thanked everyone for stopping by and being with me in my hour of need, and blew out my candle. And went back to my day.

I made an appointment to get my teeth cleaned. I made an appointment to meet with my local rabbi to discuss spiritual matters, something I've long been planning to do. I made plans with a friend to have a BBQ next month. I starting a grocery list. I showered and put on gym clothes. I called my client and got the first part of a challenging project finished, so we can move forward with it tomorrow. I had lunch.

I haven't made it to the gym yet. I don't want to go. I don't know if I will. Maybe. If I don't, that's ok.

I am going through the motions of my life, robotically. I feel empty.

And this too, shall pass.

Restless

I can't sit still these days. Even first thing in the morning, while I'm drinking my coffee, I'm walking around the aparment, fiddling at the computer, messing about in the kitchen, usually knocking things over or tripping over things, because I'm still half asleep.

Blogging requires sitting still for more than 10 minutes, so that's why I'm never around here these days.

Facebook requires far less attention, so I'm there from time to time.

I went to Boston two weekends in a row. I went to Chicago for a long weekend. I've gone to parties in the city, jazz jams in my little town, and had a lot of doctor's appointments. G and I are still hoping to have a baby. We're confident. But I've been through SO MUCH that, in years past, I would have been practically living at my computer. But these days...

I need to get OUT. I'm doing housework, I'm going to the gym, I'm grocery shopping, I'm heading into the city once a week or so. I'm not doing really profound things, but I have to get out of the apartment. I hate my neighborhood, so that means either driving somewhere or taking the bus or train into the city.

Not sure where this is coming from, but I'm rolling with it. It's kind of fun.