Akuna Matata

The one thing I am not and will never be is conventional. My name is Christina and I am proud to say I will not conform. I would rather birth books than babies. They pay better and most of the time, they don’t talk back. I have decided after years of being a nanny, I love kids and they are the purest form of joy a mother can have in her life, but I am selfish and not afraid to say I don’t want to give-up my sleep, my time, my time to write, to love, to cook and to just be. Kids take all that you have and I would rather write a novel. This is not wrong. This is honesty. I would rather make love than wage war. Making love is much more effective in ending a stand-off. I would rather be nestled in my sweethearts’ arms, than out dancing at clubs having other men try to pick me up. I’ve been with my soul mate for 14 years. He makes me feel love every day, a deep beautiful love that makes my insides warm and alive. He is where my heart resides. I can turn on some music and dance with him and have a great time. He makes me laugh and no guy at any club can do that. I will read and re-read the Fifty Shades of Grey trilogy of kinky sex and bondage and I don't care who thinks it is “beneath me” or “something I should think twice about.” Those books were fantastic to read and brought more love, sex, laughter and security to my love life, all that from just a few books. Way to go E.L. James. I would rather perform other people’s marriage ceremonies than get married myself. Marriage is a wonderful thing for anyone else but me. Why ruin a good thing? Walk away when you want, not when the lawyer you paid $10,000 tells you to. When you have worked, managed and arranged and performed as many weddings as me, you can live vicariously through other people’s weddings. Don’t get me wrong, I still cry most of time when the bride and groom give their vows. It’s a beautiful thing. Always will be! I would rather work four small jobs than one big, boring one. I may get around in the job world, so call me a work slut. That’s OK with me. No desk will ever hold me hostage again, unless I am writing my novel. I used to work a job that may have paid the bills and given me health insurance, but I hated every minute I typed away at a keyboard. Every strike of the keys, took away a little bit of my soul. I said no and now have never been happier; I am now uninsured but my soul is whole again. I would rather work part-time at the bookstore on Sunday, working a job that brings my heart peace and joy, than sit in a pew at church listening to things I don’t necessarily believe. Books feed my soul just as much as prayer will. I still have faith and pray regularly, I just don’t need a church to do it in. Why, you ask will I not conform to what society and my church tells me to do? Because I can and I don’t care who disapproves. I may be poor and have a life where my hand is in more cookie jars than I can count, but that just means more opportunities for me and my future. I do what makes me happy. I follow my dreams, I believe in love, long-term commitment, writing and working a job that brings me the purest kind of happiness, like glacier water in my soul. It’s pure and right. I don’t need a piece of paper to tell me I am in love or a bunch of money in the bank to tell me I am worth something. When you have love and you feel happiness in all the veins of your heart, the rest will fall in to place. Don’t conform. Be yourself and when you are, no one can bring you down or make you feel bad. You have to take risks. Stop being scared and stop trying to do and be what you think others want you to be. BE YOU. BE YOUR BEAUTIFUL SELF! Remember the saying from the movie The Lion King, “Akuna Matata?” It means no worries, so adopt this philosophy and when you stop worrying so much, you will start living. I am lucky. I am happy. I am in love. I am blessed. I feel free. I have a plaque on my desk that says it all, “Sometimes you just have to take the leap and build you wings on the way down.” Take the leap and see what happens next.

Today I am introducing guest blogger, Maria Grego. We went to high school together way back in the mid-nineties in Burlington, NC. Go Bulldogs! Maria posted this recently on facebook and it inspired me to carry on any way no matter what pain I have, Her post is emotional and heart-felt and true for those suffering with chronic illness. Let it be the wind in your sails today, so keep calm and carry on. Thanks Maria for letting me share your story. Here is a little background on Maria's story: I guess bout how I got blessed with chronic illness. I was coming home from work a lil early on 11/19/09--3 yrs ago almost--I was driving on the interstate and the car in front of me went right ( I was in 1st lane, by the divider wall) and before I knew it--there was a dually truck tire on a rim in front of me--I braced rather than turned (first responders said if I turned I would have flipped & almost surely died) and first hit the rim & tire, then went over it....the force was incredible. Seriously--I had a very spiritual moment. I felt 2 hands on my shoulders pushing down & 2 hands on my chest pushing back. I believe it was my parents...I felt the imprint of those hands for hours. So the accident tore out everything under my car. Totaled. I was worried I couldn't work the next day. The guy responsible was driving a car hauler, for a dealership. They pressured me not to get a police report even though I had called 911. I was in shock. They promised to help me & I believed them. At the time--adrenaline & all--I didn't know I was hurt. I went home. Thanked God I was alive. Stared at my kids thinking I almost died. The next day I could barely move without crying. I repeatedly went to E.R. I requested MRIs...they did xrays. Said I had sprained muscles & whiplash. I finally went to my doctor who knew me for 20 years....he ordered MRIs...days later he called me personally & said I needed to be very careful. I had multiple ruptured discs (4!!!) and multiple herniated discs (8!!!) My neck & back hurt. From my neck to my low back. Just about every other one is damaged. I have had cervical anterior diskectomy with fusion on 2 ruptured discs--I also have degenerative disc disease now which has accelerated since my accident & causes all my joints pain. I have continually torn my right rotator cuff (the muscles in my neck try to support my head but if I sit up or stand too long, it tears my rotator cuff. I have PTSD from my accident. Panic attacks. Nightmares. I have found out I am allergic to most common anxiety meds: ie, xanax, valium, klonipin...my throat swells up & I get hives. So--beyond a therapist I have to get myself out of panic attacks. It sucks. The doctor can't perform anymore surgeries on me to correct any more discs because of the degenerative disc disease. My spine is getting worse everyday. I rest as much as possible cuz of the pain. Also I hope to extend my mobility as long as possible. Besides a total spine replacement surgery--I haven't heard any other options. And that scares the crap outta ME!! I am sorry I wrote such a whiney cry baby message....you just needed a lil info but its hard to explain in short....Now, I have just been granted disability. Thankfully I worked enough to just make enough to provide for myself & my 3 kids ( whom I almost never get child support for)....it took 3 years to get it--even though I qualified I was denied due to a mistake on the governments review. Well, now I have a lawyer for my accident. The other party actually gave a statement & admitted they are at fault. Not only did their tire come off--the mechanic who works for the dealership didn't tighten down the lug-nuts, so it is negligent. I am in pain, for the rest of my life. I can't pick up a gallon of milk. I can only lift up to 4 lbs!! I can't bend over, push a grocery cart, reach above my head.....it sucks plus my PTSD....I don't know if they are going to get away with injuring me. I have prayed to get some kind of compensation...I'm living off of less than a third of what I used to make---and its the government paying me disability--not the responsible party....so my disability is from my past jobs, not their insurance. I don't know--the stress of it all is a lot sometimes too much. I refuse the morphine & methadone they try to give me cuz If I take it I can't drive & who would take care of my kids? So I take the weakest form of pain pill-just enough to help me move without crying from pain. Keep Calm and Carry on by, Maria Grego I am 1 of those people who never asks for help---mostly because I am so independent. I would rather do everything myself. I have always been self sufficient. I used to work 2-3 jobs, it's just how I am. Keep calm & carry on. So when I actually do ask, the fear of rejection & depending upon another person, makes me feel weak....I'm sure that is caused by asking & relying on someone & then being let down. That is why I only ask for help when there is no other way possible. Keep calm & carry on. Since my accident, I have been having to ask my kids to help: to do laundry, or push grocery cart, etc...I hate being weak. I didn't ask for this. I did nothing wrong. It was someone else's fault. I am constantly in pain. I refuse to give up. I am hopeful not hopeless. I keep calm & carry on...what else can I do? I carry my injuries like a badge of courage. I earned them. I fight everyday to not give up. I have friends with 1 or 2 herniated discs who complain more than me. I know people who gave up & quit walking because of 1 herniated disc! Keep calm & carry on. I just had to get this off my chest....It's frustrating to hold it in--and if you are really my friends, then you will understand I don't want attention, I just want to know you heard me. You have kept going. You didn't give up, either. So let's keep calm & carry on. Together ♥ thanks ♥

The Best Invention Ever!

When I am stuck in the bathroom for one of my triathlons, I usually turn to the old stand by, a magazine or book to pass the time. I used to get a lot of magazine subscriptions and the money was well spent. I read alot of them this past year, and last year I decided to get subscriptions to magazines like Time and National Geographic to actually learn things instead of just reading trashy gossip magazines. I am so tired of hearing about J-Lo's backside, Ashton's break-up and the Kardashians, even my ass is tired of hearing about them all.


I decided that I would finally cross over to the other side. I bought myself a Nook Tablet for Christmas. I raced home, opened the box and downloaded a boat load of apps, like Angry Birds, Scrabble, Solitaire, Poker, Showtime, Netflix and a whole bunch of great books.


I was now armed with a whole new arsenal of things to do when stuck in the bathroom. I was so excited, when I found myself stuck in my first bathroom visit with my new Nook, I wasn't sure what game I wanted to play first, so I started with Angry Birds.
Thirty minutes later, I had been done in the bathroom a few minutes earlier, but I was so engrossed in my angry birds game, and now totally addicted to this game. I actually didn't get up right away because I was in the middle of my game. I scored over 60,000 points during my first bathroom trip and now I'm totally addicted to my Nook. I can now play games, watch Showtime, Netflix movies or read a book, all in the comfort of my bathroom.
Totally AWESOME!

My magazines are now collecting dust and maybe so is my brain from the seven hundred games of Angry Birds I have already played, but I am happy to tell all my IBS friends and my Fibromyalgia friends who are stuck in bed, that there is a God and he loves us, so he helped develop the Nook. It's our new doctor's assistant.

I take it everywhere I go and it's great for all the times I am stuck in the doctor's waiting room, wondering why all the magazines are five years old or wondering why there aren't any at all, and I feel special because I have a Nook. So, I suggest for all you out there suffering or those unable to leave your bed due to chronic illness, that you buy a Nook.

It was money well spent and now even though I still frequent the bathroom multiple times a day, It's not as annoying as it used to be. I was talking up the Nook so much to my other sick friends, that I think I could make the next commercial for the Nook and tie it in with chronic illness. So here goes my jingle.

If you're feeling kind of shitty
And your stuck on the john
Pull out your Nook
And turn the tablet on

Watch a little Showtime
Play some Angry Birds
Make a bet in Poker
Or read Shakespeare's words

Order a Netflix movie
Play a game of solitaire
The Nook is so versatile
You can take it anywhere

Hooray!

OK, so that was extremely corny, but you get my point.
The Nook is great and I can't wait to play some more angry birds later.

The Pooper Scooper

It's been a while since I last blogged. I've been really busy with three jobs and school and the new book I co-authored just coming out, that I have been to pooped to scoop on my poop, so I'm here to say it's a new year and with the new year, lots of new "shit" will happen to me, good and bad.

So get ready because I'm back and I can't wait to tell you all about it.

Hold onto your toilet paper, because 2012 is going to be the best year ever.
Let the great shit tales begin!

Have You Ever?

Have you ever been told that you would never be able to do a particular job, task, or meet a goal? Was it because you were told you just weren't good enough? Was it because you were told that you were not smart enough to accomplish the goal? Were you told that it was because of your illness or were you told this because they knew you would end up doing the task better than them?

In Sixth grade math class at the private Catholic school I attended, I accidentally put too many 0's past the decimal place. My teacher marched me out of class down to the fourth grade math class, where she stood me in the front of class and proceeded to tell them I was stupid. Yes, that actually happened. To this day, math has been a struggle and everytime I get frustrated, I just think back to that time in math class when I was told I was stupid and I get mad. I want to get even. I want to prove to them that I am smart.

In eleventh grade English, I was told by the teacher, that I would never be a good writer, that I would never be good at English and that I should just stop now. Yes, this happened too and so once again I set out on another journey to prove them wrong. I went to college and graduated with a degree in English Literature. I wanted to wave that flag in her face like a proud six-year-old.

I started to do whatever people said. I did jobs with 150% vigor and worked multiple tasks to show that I can handle it, that I can do it no matter if two chronic illnesses were stamped on my forehead. I never said no. I always said yes to working any event, or being a volunteer in my community. I was not in just one community group, I was in three and on the board in one of them. I worked walks, political events, fed the hungry, raised money for cancer, diabetes, and did whatever was asked of me.

My problem is, I go to the extreme proving people wrong. I decided that one college degree was not good enough, so I got four. Sometimes when people ask me why I have so many, I am truthfully telling them that I love school and I love writing and why not get four degrees. But, there is this small place in me that after all these years, I can confess to and that is sometimes I do things because people tell me I can't do them.

I was able to pass a math class, with a good teacher and a tutor. I went to college and succeeded and I am now in Graduate school. I have two chronic illnesses and climbed a huge ass mountain. Day-after-day, I am reminded that there are some things I can't do no matter what and I get mad and there I go again trying to prove to people I can do what they say I can't.

This past week, certain things were said to me about things that I can't do, or were advised that I should not do and that they had no place to even say I can't do. I wanted to prove them wrong. I wanted to duel them right there, pull out my sword and fight to the death. But, I just listened and drew back my advancement for a fight. I knew that I would not win that battle.

After mulling over the conversation in my head a hundred times, I realized something profound, that I should have relaized a long time ago. Life is filled with obstacles and boundaries. They affect your personal life, your job and in our world as a whole and they will be an ever present reminder that we are human. Humans are not perfect, we make mistakes. We put too may 0's past the decimal place and we fight to feel we are worth something and not worthless. This is not wrong to think about.

Some people, like me suck at math. Some people can't climb mountains, some people with IBS or Fibromyalgia can't enjoy vacations, some people are insecure and that is ok. I will be ok. You will be ok. I have to look at each obstacle in life as a building block, a baby step toward something greater and I don't have to overcome those obstacles for a boss, a lover or even a friend. I have to overcome obstacles for ME and me only. I can't keep worrying that you will look at me and be mad that I did not do something you thought that I should know how to do, or something that I should already know how to do.

I will live each day for me, and not try to prove to you that I have to do it this way. If I can't do something, that's ok. I just can say no, I can't do that or no, I don't want to do that and that should be all I need to get through life's obstacles. I will stop trying to prove to people that I can do things. If you tell me I can't do something or I know I can't do something, that's ok.

Reality is realizing that no matter what, life happens and there is no need to go to the extreme to tell the world you can accomplish something. Today I was sick, my Fibromyalgia the culprit and I couldn't do a damn thing about it but sit lifeless on the bed or couch. I was not mad anymore. I realized this is my life and I no longer have to prove anything.

Sometimes you will not be able to pass the test, meet the goal or accomplish the task, no matter how much elbow grease you add to it. No one ever said life was easy. Do what you can, enjoy it and learn. I am learning not to not take things personally and if it can't be done, don't swell on it, just move on. Life is to short.

Fight For It!

On May 12, 2012, American's all over the world celebrated National Fibromyalgia Awareness Day. Over 2,500 people per week will be diagnosed with Fibromyalgia. The numbers are rising every year. At first they thought it was all in our heads and now we have a voice that is heard. We are not crazy. We did not invent this condition.

Approximately one in 50 Americans are estimated to have Fibromyalgia, or between 3 and 6 million people in the U.S. (American College of Rheumatology, 2004)
About of 50% of people with Fibromyalgia have difficulty with or are unable to perform routine daily activities (Health Central, 2009),
30 to 40% of Fibromyalgia patients have to stop working or change jobs (Health Central, 2009), and people with fibromyalgia are hospitalized about once every 3 years (CDC, 2009)

Three weeks ago after several months of weight loss of ten pounds, I underwent an Upper Endoscopy where I was told I developed non-cancerous benign fundi stomach polyps and gastritis and now have added yet another medication to my already growing daily regiment of pills. It was a depressing day, but I realized that I am not alone.
This past week, I spent two days at doctor's offices and over $100.00 for doctor bills (Thanks Mom) and was told that things are getting better. But are there? With Fibromyalgia, today may be a good day, and tomorrow may be a good day; buy next week may be five days of hell.

Having Fibromyalgia is a crapshoot. But the more people that support the National Fibromyalgia Association, the more people stick together and get the word out about this chronic illness, we can fight back, we can win. We can live better lives. We can do more things. We may not be able to climb mountains, but we can conquer the hill.

This I believe. This is how things change. I believe that Fibromyalgia and IBS WILL NOT define me, WILL NOT Confine me and WILL NOT deny me the chance at a happy life. Don’t let your illness stand in the way.

Raise your hands in the air and fight, fight back for freedom from chronic pain. Fight for long walks on the beach and dancing in the club. Fight for it. It’s worth it.


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Holy Cabot!

Some people dream about dying, being chased, chocolate, sex, drugs, and God only know what else. Well I have food dreams. I have dreams about milk and cheese and ice cream. I dream that I am cooking and eating Fettuccini Alfredo, gooey cheese filled Lasagna, Baked Brie on crackers, creamy mac and cheese and eating an entire tub of cherry vanilla ice cream.

Why do I have such dreams? Because I am lactose intolerant and can't eat dairy. It's a travesty. I mean I'm Italian for Goodness sake. It's kind of my birthright to eat cheese. That's what Italians do. They eat cheese and drink wine. I can do neither. Sometimes I feel Like I'm a "fake Italian" and my Grandma is rolling over in her grave right now saying "Oh Mio Dio." (That means oh my goodness in Italian). She used to own a bakery in Rhode island and when we would go up to visit, we would get to help her make the famous Whandi's (light pastry dusted with powdered sugar), prune Danish and my favorite butter balls. I could eat a whole paper bag of those cookies and only later would I realize that a buttery cookie in becomes a buttery cookie out.

And worse my daddy grew up on a diary farm. Can you believe that? His baby face graced the glass milk jugs. My daddy played with cows daily, won prizes for his cows in fairs and even at one time wanted to be a Vet. Milk was not only a staple in Ruotolo family meals, but it was what put food on the table back in the 1950's, and I can't drink it, not one little sip. If I did, I would be chained to my bathroom for hours in a milk-induced agony that I hope none of you experience.




A few weeks ago the coffee shop I think accidentially made my raspberry latte with milk instead of soy. It was a painful evening to say the least. I realize that even though I can't eat cheese or dairy, I still find myself scanning the cheeses at the specialty market or drooling over yogurt, which now comes in a shit load of delicious flavors. Bummer. I find myself in lala land over the triple cheese pizzas just waiting to be taken home and baked to a golden delicious masterpiece of cheese heaven.

The other day during my two hour shopping trip to Wal-Mart, I was pushing my cart past the cheeses stopping briefly to say hello and buy my boyfriend his usual sliced Kraft cheese and there is was bathed in glorious light from the heavens. It was Cabot Cheese and I remembered at that very moment that a few weeks ago someone told me that Cabot cheese was lactose free. I grabbed a brick of sharp white cheddar like a person who has not seen food in weeks and scanned the contents and right there in beautiful sensual letters it said "Lactose Free." I wasn't sure if I wanted to cry or scream to the heavens "holy fucking Cabot." There is a God and he loves me. But it was Wal-Mart and I thought that was innapropriate so I quickly dialed my mom's cell and blurted out the good news. I grabbed just one brick because though it said lactose free, I was still skeptical. I went home and I must have held that brick of cheese in my hands for minutes thanking the heavens and cows in Vermont (strangley my mom's home state) for making this glorious brick of love.

It took about a week before I have an evening free to test my heaven brick of Cabot for the true lactose test. I was going to make pizza and layer on the cheese thick enough to make a golden, delicious pizza that I had dreamed about. I also needed to make sure that I was not planning on going out anytime soon just in case Cabot was wrong. I watched like a two year-old waiting for Santa to come as the Pizza baked in the oven. I added pepperoni and mushrooms and watched as the moments ticked by on the clock and twelve minutes later, I pulled out my masterpiece pizza. It looked incredible and both Craig and I devoured it. It was delicious and cheesy and almost orgasmic, yes I said that. I was in love with cheese. I was in love with Cabot. It was a moment I had been waiting for for so long that I could have napped afterwards because the experience was so intense.

About 45 minutes later as I was still reeling from my pizza experience, my stomach starting making funny noises. I knew what it was saying. It told me "what have you done to me?" And a few minutes later and for the next forty-five minutes, I was once again sitting on my porcelian throne in pure pain and agony. I was in so much pain I thought I might cry and I once again talked to my stomach apologizing for giving it the Cabot cheese and I promised that I would never, EVER do that again for as long as I live. My earlier moments of cheese bliss were replaced with bouts of toliet hell. It was awful and now I have to go back to my dreams, for that is the only place that cheese and I will be one again.

I wish they make epi-pens for lactose intolerant people like me. Now that's an idea!

Whale Poop Vital For The Ocean

I just read an article that was written by Wendy Zuckerman in April of 2010 talking about how whale poop is good for the oceans. When whales poop, the poop creates large quantities of iron, which is what helps carbon-sequestering phytoplankton thrive in the Southern Ocean. Studies have shown that iron is "crucial to ocean health because plankton need it to grow. If you add soluable iron to the ocean, you get instant phytoplankton growth." (Quoted by Stephen Nicol of the Australian Antartic Division, based in Kingston, Tasmania)

Nicol's team studied 27 different samples of poop from four different species of baleen whales, and found that on average whale poop had 10 million times as much iron as Antartic seawater. So whale poop will ultimately increase the amount of CO2 that the Southern Ocean can sequester. Who would have thought that whale poop was so valuable and such a wonderful thing?

Harvard also recently did research on whale poop and suggests that the "liquid fecal matter, rich in nutrients, has a huge positive influence on the productivity of ocean fisheries, Joe Roman, a whale biologist from the University of Vermont and his colleague, James McCarthy from Harvard University, have discovered."

Their discovery, published Oct. 11 in the journal PLoS ONE, is what Roman calls a "whale pump." Whales, they found, carry nutrients such as nitrogen from the depths where they feed back to the surface via their feces. This functions as an upward biological pump, reversing the assumption of some scientists that whales accelerate the loss of nutrients to the bottom.
And this nitrogen input in the Gulf of Maine is "more than the input of all rivers combined," they write, some 23,000 metric tons each year.

"It is well known that microbes, plankton, and fish recycle nutrients in ocean waters, but whales and other marine mammals have largely been ignored in this cycle. Yet this study shows that whales historically played a central role in the productivity of ocean ecosystems -- and continue to do so despite diminished populations."

"We think whales form a really important direct influence on the production of plants at the base of this food web," says McCarthy.

"We found that whales increase primary productivity," Roman says, allowing more phytoplankton to grow, which then "pushes up the secondary productivity," he says, of the critters that rely on the plankton. The result: "bigger fisheries and higher abundances throughout regions where whales occur in high densities," Roman says.

"In areas where whales were once more numerous than they are today, we suggest that they were more productive," say McCarthy.

All of this research is evident to me that whales and whale poop play a more prominent role in ecosystems than once believed. I don't think I'll ever be able to look at a whale again without first remarking on their majestic beauty, but to also know that we must keep them safe, so that our oceans will remain healthy.

Up On The Mountain

Several weeks before Thanksgiving, my boyfriend finally talked me into hiking, which if you have IBS and Fibromyaligia, then you know is not something I was looking forward to, or to be honest thought I would actually be able to accomplish. I get winded going up the stairs too fast sometimes and the thought of hiking a freaking mountain no matter the height, scared the hell out of me. But, on the other hand, I wanted to prove to myself that I could do it and I knew my boyfriend, Mr. Adventure loved this kind of stuff and I wanted to be the girlfriend I used to be.

So, I sucked it up, took a double dose of imodium, got my ass out of bed at the crack of dawn and we drove the four hours to Hanging Rock State Park located in western North Carolina. The weather was beautiful and I love the mountains and the fall, so I was in heaven with the fall colors and the crisp breeze. We got there before anyone else and started the hike up Hanging Rock Mountain. I had my fanny pack (yes, don't freaking laugh, I needed toliet paper just in case and water and all that crap) and we made our way up the mountain hand in hand.

The first twenty minutes were great, we walked up a slight incline and as we got higher up the mountain, the paved road turned into a rocky path and that was when I thought to myself, what the fuck have I just got myself into. I couldn't turn back, I couldn't let my chronic illness win, so I pushed on for another thirty minutes pretending that my body was not in agony. I was out of breath and several times, I thought I might hurl. I was obvioulsy out of shape. I ended up having to stop several times to catch my breath and when we finally got there, I was so glad I really considered bowing down and kissing the rock.

Once we got up to the top, it was well worth the agony and I almost cried because I had finally done something I didn't think I could still do, I also wanted to cry because I knew in order to get off this mountain, we had to go back down. We stayed up on the mounatin for a few hours taking in the majestic view. I admit, I was glad that I up there, I was in my element, high up on the mountain, looking down upon the fall leaves on the trees. I was at such peace. I had just wished that I had room in my fanny pack for a notebook and pen.

Right before we headed back down the mountain, just guess what happened next? Yep, I had to shit and I thought, really? There were people everywhere and I was prepared because I had my tiny roll of TP, but really, why on this beautiful mountain? Why now? I tried to talk some sense into my stomach but it would not quit whining, so my boyfriend and I searched for a secret place where I could do the deed and noone would be able to see. I was thinking to myself that my boyfriend and I should be trying to find a place to have hot, mountain sex, but instead we were searching for a shitting spot. This is so messed up. I wanted sex, not shit!

I scaled the tiny side of the back part of the rock and found a small dip in the rock hidden by trees and right there in the middle of the afternoon, I dropped my jeans and did what I had to do, but I have to say, it was the most beautiful scene I ever shit to. It was breathtaking.

After I finished I walked back around the rock and we headed down the mountain as if it was no big thing. I thought about it while walking back down the mouantin, that back in the day when toliets and port-a-potties didn't exist, people did their business in nature. It made me think about the life cycle. And thinking about this made me feel better. I hadn't just shit on a mountaintop, I helped the environment. I helped the ecosystem and I helped the cycle of life go on. Ok, so I know that sounds kind of stupid, but when you shit as much as me, you have to find the silver lining in everything and I had to stop thinking that my TP was not biodigrabale and think that the other part was.

I thought I would call my deed on the mountain, "the life cycle of Christina's shit," and if I ever came back up on this mountain, then I would hopefully seed a plant in the place of where my shit once laid. And so, the cycle of life goes on, or so mine did on the side of Hanging Rock Mountain.

Fibromyalgia and Death

Fibromyalgia and IBS don't take holidays, breaks and don't care what's on your agenda. I have been in extreme physical pain from my chronic illness since November 9th when my best friend, Michelle was admitted to the hospital after collapsing. She had battled stage four lung cancer for over two years and the cancer was winning.

I sat motionless for six days in a hard, hospital chair on the sixth floor looking out on the world around me through autumnal trees and swirling leaves. I watched as my friend slowly faded before me and through it all I was in so much physical pain from my chronic illness that I did my best to shut it from my mind. I had to be strong for her, for her family and for her three year old son, Grayson. I had to set my illness aside, remove the pain from my mind and be there for my friend during her last days on this earth. I wanted my Fibromyalgia to take a holiday and it wouldn't, even to give me few days to be there for my friend.

I sat with her, held her hand, prayed, sung Amazing Grace and even painted her toenails while she lay motionless in extreme pain. I felt bad that she was laying there before me in the dim evening light in so much pain that she could not even speak but only softly moaned when her morphine was wearing off. I thought of all the times that I have cried and complained because I was in pain and hurting but my pain was nothing in comparison to what she was going through that very moment.

I could not and would not let it be known that to sit for six hours a night in this hard chair, my back was going numb and my feet tingling. Instead, I prayed and asked God to help her and not me. I wanted her to go peacefully to the place that we all dream of going to one day. I told her twenty four hours before she died, sitting beside her bed, that it was ok to go to Heaven now and that God was waiting for her and that when she got there, there would be no more pain and it would be glorious.

I saw what pain she went through the last two and a half years and I felt selfish for even complaining about my back hurting or the fact that I had to shit too many times a day. Here she was in private agony, fighting so hard to win a battle that eventually took over every part of her, her mind and her body, and the day she died, November 15, 2010 at 6:30am, I was ashamned that I felt relieved for her. I felt bad for thinking that I was glad that she was gone and with God, because I knew she would never have to feel pain again and this tiny part of me was jealous. I don't want to die, don't get me wrong, but waking up every day in pain is not only physically draining, but emotionally draining as well. The sadnessI fell now that she is gone is enormous, and it has made my chronic illness worse. I went for Acupuncture and that did not help. I went for a massage and that did not help.

It has been one week since we buried Michelle. Today is Thanksgiving, the day we should be thankful for health, friends and family and I can't help but think of her and I do smile knowing that she is no longer in pain but I miss her terribly and wish she had more time on this earth, with her husband, with her son, and to continue to be my best friend. Today I will be thankful for friends, family, health (even if I have IBS and Fibromyalgia), and most of all, I am thankful for my new guardian angel that I know is watching over me right now. For today, I can rest easy on a soft couch and think of her tonight. Happy Thanksgiving Michelle. May you find peace in Heaven next to God.

(Picture above is titled "Sacred Hour" by Christophe Vacher)

My Fantasy Toilet

I just found out that in Japan they have built a women's restroom that is surrounded by a salt water aquarium on three sides that has swimming fish and a turtle. It's a shitter's heaven. A sanctuary for people like me. And it's only for women. They did not build one for men.

This amazing bathroom is located at Mumin Papa Café in Akashi, Japan and was built in 2007. The owner of the cafe says it cost 30 Million Yen (approx. $270,000 at the time) to build, which is not in the budget of most restaurants. It’s filled with all sorts of exotic fish, including the “famous” male sea turtle that watching women to their business. Surprisingly, many women do not claim it impairs their duty or gives them stage fright. The surrounding aquarium was designed to mimic the feeling of relieving yourself while swimming in the ocean.

This makes me wonder why doctor's offices and people in America have not created one here. For people who suffer from IBS and visit bathrooms often, this type of bathroom would make me much more relaxed and not be so anxious when making multiple trips to the bathroom. I might actually look forward to going to the bathroom for a change. Now instead of reading magazines with stupid gossip or observing ceiling tiles, I can now mingle with the fishes and pretend I'm a mermaid and maybe instead of talking to myself, I'll talk to the turtle.




So if the bathroom cost $270,000 to build, I wonder how much the entrees in that restaurant cost.

Sugar Free Not For Me!!!!!

I decided one day that I would try to eat healthier treats so decided I would buy a bag of sugar free gummy bears. They were so delicious that I ate the entire bag within minutes and my tummy was happy. I was in a fake sugar coma.

A few minutes later and at least once every half-hour for the rest of the day, my tummy WAS NOT HAPPY! I stopped counting after my seventh trip to the bathroom.

What the hell was in the damn gummy bears???? I turned over the bag and read the ingredients. Nothing seemed out of th ordinary except in small letters at the bottom of the bag, it read "Consuming large quantaties may have laxative effect."

Oh, Lord what have I done? How could I have not read the ingredients? I always look at ingredients in foods because I am allergic to milk and Monosodium Glucamate gives me a headache, but not once did I think to research gummy bears and sugar free. They didn't have milk, so I scarfed them down, like a six year-old on Halloween night.

BIG MISTAKE!! Hours of agony ensued and it was the first and last time I ever ate sugar free anything again. I started to check all the bags of sugar free candies and treats and they all said the same thing. So Diabetics must be screwed as well. Why make it sugar free if it's going to be hell for you afterwards? I would rather just get the damn cavity that have this!

If anyone wants to go on a quick diet and lose three pounds in two days or if you are about to have a colonoscopy, no need for laxative pills and that disgusting liquid beverage, instead just grab a bag of delicious sugar free gummy bears and that should do the trick.

I'm stiking to my favorite, Haribo Gummy Bears. They have sugar, but Germans know good sugar, so I'm sticking with the Germans on this one.

Diving In

My boyfriend came home today from a two day trip to see his family. He visited a water park yesterday and had a blast. I am sure he rode everything and slid down every slide. He isn't scared of anything. I can see him on a 50 foot diving board. He wouldn't think twice and would jump with abandonment with a smile on his face.

I was stuck here working while he was out in the sun and in the water, two places that I wanted to be. I was getting ready to put his clothes in the wash. I pulled out his swim trunks from the laundry basket and I could smell the chlorine.

I picked up the swimming trunks, pulled them up to my nose. I closed my eyes and inhaled them for at least a minute. I was eleven again on the swim team, with my professional bathing suit, goggles tight and my family watching. I was about to race through the crystal pool ripples like a dolphin. I was stretching on the edge of the pool on that little mount, ready to hear the buzzer, fling like a bird and fly into the water, flex my legs, stretch my arms and swim.

I smelled his swim trunks just like a mother pulling out her box in the attic of baby clothes. She would hold them to her nose, close her eyes and remember a time that seems so long ago, but at the same time, it seems like just yesterday.

I was young again. I was free, flying in the waves and didn't have any worries. I only cared about the way I felt rushing through the water. My heart was beating fast, and adrenaline knew my name by heart. I was streaming ahead, legs graceful as I did the breast stroke. My hands went to the sides, pushing the water away, pulling down below and them coming back up, taking a breath and dancing in the water.

When I opened my eyes, with his swim trunks in my hands I realized that I was 32 in grey jogging pants and one of my boyfriends old t-shirts. I started to cry. I wanted to be that kid again, laughing with no health problems. I was never tired and loved it. I wanted that rush you got when the swim meet was over and I was so proud holding that ribbon for winning. It didn't even matter if I won, because I just got to swim and that was all that really mattered then.

What matters now is that I have to stand up, put on my bathing suit and walk to the diving board again. I will not be scared of the high dive and I will take the plunge. I will forget about illness and be free again.

We need to walk to end of the board and not look back, but run like an eleven year old would, jump and cannonball.

The Other Stall- Just For Laughs

My friend sent me this hillarious email this morning called "the other stall." It was too funny so I had to include it as one of my blog posts. I hope you laugh as hard as I did when you read the email below.


Traveling down the interstate and needing to use the restroom,
I stopped at a rest area and headed to the restroom.

I was barely sitting down when I heard a voice from the other stall saying:
"Hi, how are you?"

I'm not the type to start a conversation in the restroom and I don't know what got into me,
But I answered, somewhat embarrassed,
"Doin' just fine!"

And the other person says:
"So what are you up to?"

What kind of question is that?
At that point, I'm thinking this is too bizarre so I say:
"Uhhh, I'm like you, just traveling!" ??

At this point I am just trying to get out as fast as I can when I hear another question.
"Can I come over?"

Ok, this question is just too weird for me but I figured I could just be polite and end the conversation. I tell them
"No..I'm a little busy right now!!!"
Then I hear the person say nervously...

"Listen, I'll have to call you back.
There's an idiot in the other stall who keeps answering all my questions

Acupuncture=Acupleasure

A few weeks ago, I had my very first Acupuncture experience with a local pain management clinic in my area. Being the OCD person that I am, I needed to do research first to make sure it would be safe and sanitary before I was going to allow multiple needles to puncture my skin. I was ready, but wanted to make sure I did my research first.

Acupuncture is an ancient form of healing and goes back so far, it can not be given an official date of inception. It is believed however that it could have started as long as 8,000 years ago and is rooted in the Taoist philosophy. The people of this time were in tune with nature and the energy that both the universe and the human body expelled. A Chinese man named Fu Hsi is believed to be the one who after his observations of nature and man, believed that two symbols existed in nature, a broken line and an unbroken line, which represented the two major forces in the universe. They stood for creation and recreation. This is what we know today as the yin-yang symbol. This is essentially when the beginning of Chinese medicine began.

During the Shang Dynasty in China, in approximately 1000 BC, hieroglyphs showed that Acupuncture existed. Bronze needles were removed from ruins. During the Warren Era between 421-221 BC, metal needles were also found in ancient tombs.

Acupuncture continued through the years to grow in popularity among the people and it wasn't until the Ming Dynasty (1568-1644) also called the enlightenment period that Acupuncture advanced. This includes the techniques, manipulation of needles during Acupuncture, the development of Moxa sticks for indirect treatment, and additional areas of the body were identified as meridians.

There was a time during the Opium Wars, and the Revolution of 1911 that Acupuncture was set to the side so traditional forms of medicine could be used, but starting back in 1934 through today Acupuncture is rooted not only in Chinese, but American culture as well. China still leads the way in Acupuncture research, treatment and in the Chinese medical system.

Now that I had all the facts, or as much as I needed to know, I was ready to have my treatment. I do have to make a confession, I did take an Imodium just in case I freaked out because my biggest fear was that what if I have all these needles in my back and then right there, the sudden urge to shit would come on. Then I had this fear of then ripping all the needles out as fast as they could so I could get to the bathroom, so I just took a deep breath, inspected the area for cleanliness and it passed inspection.

The wonderful doctor spent a long time talking with me first about my many ailments and issues and he decided that needles in the top and bottom of my spine along with elctro-stimulation would work best. He even demonstrated with a needle to show me how flexible and small there are. You can even tie one in a knot. Ok, I can handle this. If I can pass a kidney stone, I can handle this.

I laid flat on a table much like a massage table and he started popping the needles in one by one and I thought it would hurt, but I only felt one needle which was one put in the top of my left butt cheek. They removed that one and kept all the rest. I was laying there with 25 needles in my back. It was weird. Then they attached electrodes to two needles as you can see in this picture below and turned on the electro-stimulation, which felt like tiny pulses running through my back. I was relaxed and at ease.



They turned on a timer and I enjoyed twenty minutes of Acupuncture. Afterwards they applied a blue, topical pain cream that smelled like Bengay and did a bit of touch massage. I left the office feeling invigorated. The following day, I did feel a little sore, but after two days, I noticed that I had a lot less back pain and I slept great that night.

I was so impressed that I am having another Acupuncture treatment today and will continue to have this treatment once a month along with my usual massage ever few months. I urge you, if you have back pain, IBS or Fibromyalgia, that you try Acupuncture at least once. I am so glad I did!

(Acupuncture information taken from the website-http://www.acufinder.com/Acupuncture+Information/Detail/The+History+of+Acupuncture)

The Energy & Power Of Crystals

For someone who suffers from multiple ailments, I have searched high and low for alternatives for pain and insomnia. These include having massages, ear candling, ionic foot baths, using essential oils, Rheki, Yoga, Meditation, and most recently laying on the floor in agony praying to God, but I found that one didn't work as well as I had hoped. I have also bought special pillows, egg crates for the bed, linen spray that evokes restful sleep, and I tried wearing magnetic bracelet, all with no luck.

I have even paid money to visit a Holistic Healer, because I was so desperate to feel better. I would have paid any amount of money to have the pain eliminated from my body. I wanted a non-medication alternative and I would stop at nothing to find it. I visited my friend, Terri who was a Holistic Healer. I was very sick at the time and was throwing up almost every day. My body was all out of whack, so I called her up and asked her to help me. She used the energy from my body and by asking me questions and placing her hand on my feet, hands, wrists and by holding her hand over my stomach, she was able to get answers from my body. This was weird for me that my debilitating body was speaking to her with its energy, or I should say lack of energy and that there was no hope for me. I was surprised that my sick energy didn't make her tell me to get up and leave. The energy in my body told her that my gallbladder was not working and a few months later I was in surgey having it removed because it had stopped working months before. Terri saved my life.

I also get regular massages. The most wonderful massage I ever got was from a lady named Lisa who was my friend and what I would consider an old soul. She had fire red hair that was curly and it was like I had met her in a former life or something and I felt as if I had known her for years. I liked that strange connection I felt when I met her. I was relaxed and at ease.

I laid on the massage table and above the table was a skylight. The room was dark and cool and it started to rain. The tapping of rain on the skylight and the smell of spearmint and lavender comforted me and I began to go into this place inside me that was calm and peaceful. I was also very relaxing and healing for me. I think it was the mixture of essential oils, rain and that I had finally found a massuse that could pull the pain out of my body. This is when I realized that energy healing existed. To me anyway, it was real and I believed that it would help heal me from within.


A few months ago, I stumbled across a packet of healing crystals that came in a decorate box along with a book on the power of crystal healing. I figured it was worth the $10.00 and worth a try. The box contained 10 healing crystals which were supposed to balance the chakras in my body to promote balance and healing.

The word Chakra is derived from the Sanskrit word meaning "wheel." Chakras are wheels of continuous energy that rotate at different centers of our body. It begins at the base of the spine and finishes at the top of the head. Each Chakra is stimulated by its own color and each crystal emulates this energy. The colors of the stones are red, orange, yellow, green, blue, indigo, and violet.



Our Chakra wheels of colors vary depending on our physical conditions, energy levels, disease and stress. This made me think that I must be a dull canvas of white so I needed to get all my colors on the board or at least find a few of them. The crystals are intended to heal you and help balance your chakras. Below I have listed each of the ten crystals and a bit about each stone's intended effects.

1. Yellow Moonstone- This crystal attracts love, is good for hormone imbalances and menstural cramps.
2. Black Obsidian- This crystal is good for emotional cleansing and releasing old, harmful habits.
3. Rose Quartz- This crystal brings love into your life, it's good for heart disease, the blood and circulation. It also helps keep peace and happiness in relationships.
4. Dark Blue Sodalite- This crystal helps heal or release negative emotions such as anxiety, nervousness, anger, fear, guilt, or shame. It also brings peaceful sleep when put under the pillow while sleeping.
5. Tiger's Eye- This crystal helps keep your thoughts clear, specific and in the realm of reality. It also helps with focus, concentration.
6. Purple Amethyst- This crystal is useful in calming stress and healing addictions.
7. Soft Yellow Calcite- This crystal cleanses the energy field and is good for meditation.
8. Soft Brown Carmelian- This crystal ground your energy and focuses your attention into the present, thus giving you personal power, also encourages you and gives your endurance.
9. Green Aventurine- This crystal strengthens intuition, eyesight and foresight. It also brings you good luck.
10. Clear Quartz- This crustal is the MOTHER OF ALL STONES. It's a receiver, amplifier, conductor and generator of energy. It's linked with good health, balance, healing, meditation, knowledge, clear thinking and protection from outside influences.

So after careful study of all the crystals, I was confused as hell and knew I needed all the crystals to heal me but figures I need the mother of all of them so I began with the Clear Quartz.

I lay on the floor in a quiet room. I had to believe that this crystal would help balance my chakras promoting health and a sense of well being. I laid on the floor held the clear stone in the palm of my left hand because its believed that the spirits travel from left to right. I waited, and waited and waited and thought that maybe my spirit energy was confused and didn't ask for directions. I tried to speak to the Crystal and asked it nicely to make my back pain go away and to help me feel better. It said to listen to your body and you can hear what its telling you and that you must trust and follow your own intuitions.

After twenty minutes, and a sweaty palm of Clear Quartz later, all I felt was the urge to pee and a pain in my lower back. Wonder what I did wrong? My boyfriend came into the room and looked at me as if I had gone to lala land. I continued to seek energy but I have to say so far, not much has happened. It was a neat experience and I will continue to work on balancing my chakras, but for now, I'll stick with Imodium and water.

Tomorrow I am having Acupuncture for the first time so maybe that will be the thing that works the best, I'll tell you all about that one tomorrow.

Insomnia Cures

Did you know that 70 million Americans suffer from sleep disorders and at least 32 million of those people suffer from Insomnia? Insomnia is defined by Merriam-Webster's dictionary as "prolonged and usually abnormal inability to obtain adequate sleep." (circa 1623-www.merriamwebster.com)

I also researched Insomnia online and found out that out of people age 15-55, 20-40% encounter insomnia problems during a year time and 10 million people have to take medications for insomnia. I also learned that a person with insomnia only sleeps six hours of less daily and that Americans sleep 20% less than we did 100 years ago?
(www.sleepcottage.com/insomnia-stats/)

I think this last bit of information is totally true, because we have become a nation of technology with cell phones, computers, I-pads and video games. 100 years ago, people were too busy staking their land, building their houses, raising families, hunting for food and hanging the clothes on the line to dry. Children played outside in fresh air, swaying from fat, oak trees and when the day was done, they were so exhausted that they never had problems with sleep.

Our society now is so much more mentally challenged and we have so much shit floating around in our heads at night that we have to take a pill to shut off the receptors. It's like taking a "shut the hell up so I can sleep pill." I am one of those people. Doctors believe that Fibromyalgia is caused by receptors in the brain that tell your body (nerves) constantly that you're in pain and we have to take a pill so we can shut them up and get some much needed rest.

The top three countries with Insomnia sufferers are:
1. The United States (too many Starbucks is my reason why)
2. Germany (too much rich food and learning that language is enough to make me not sleep) and
3. The United Kingdom

I decided to poll all my friends to see how they pass the time when dealing with Insomnia.
I have listed the responses in order:
1. Read a book
2. Get on facebook
3. Watch television
4. Relaxation and/or meditation (on I-phone and/or cell phone)
5. Toss and turn
6. Listen to music and/or book on CD
7. Write
8. Listen to Dr. Weil Meditation program
9. Sort our problems in their head
10.Do a crossword puzzle
11.Eat ice cream and
12 Iron

So whether you're reading a book, listening to meditation, watching TV, or just tossing and turning, know that you're not alone and feel better knowing that at least 32 million other people are doing that same exact thing. This got me thinking that maybe I should plan a rave party and call it the Insomnia Rave and all my friends who find themselves up at 3am can come over to my rave and we can move to the beat and sweat out the insomnia. What a great party that would be!

Searching For Sleep

It's typical for people with Fibromyalgia to suffer from Insomnia or lack of sleep. Many nights for me are spent tossing, turning and searching in the darkness for sleep. On average, I am only asleep about two to three hours at one time and then keep waking up. I wake up, roll over, squint at the clock and count to myself, "only two more hours of sleep," or I say "Damn, only ten more minutes of sleep," and then I do my best to go back to sleep.

I feel like a soldier trenched in the weight on my back, night vision goggles on, gun in hand, wading in mud for sleep. I know it's there, right around the corner, but I'm afraid if I sneak up on it too soon, it will run far away and I may not find it for days. So I crouch low down to the ground, silent in the night and there beyond the moon in the sky, I think I see it, but them again without my contacts in, it's a faint black blob, but I still know it's there.

I also search for sleep in my pillow hoping it knows the trick and can help or I change the small blanket over my comforter, because sometimes I need a certain comforter weight to sleep well. I also turn the temperature down close to 68 degrees so I can snuggle under the covers. Maybe sleep is under the covers? Who knows, but last night as I searched there, all I found was a penny and my boyfriend farted. But no sleep.

So I wait, sitting up in bed, staring into the nothingness, waiting for you to come to me, to dust my eyes with "sand man" dust and sometimes I find myself softly singing the tune to you lulling you to come to me,

"Mr. Sandman, bring me a dream, make him the cutest
that I've ever seen."

Then after that I find myself singing all the fifties songs I can think of and yesterday I watched the movie Mermaids, so I started singing,

"Does he love me? I wanna know, How can I tell if he loves me so? Is it in his kiss?"

This proved to be a hopeless endeavor, so I just gave-up and waited for morning to come singing tunes to myself. Tomorrow I'm going to download the whole Mermaids Soundtrack, because it rocks!

Sleep- I want you! I need you. I can't get enough of you. I deserve you, so why won't you let me in your splendor, like an infant just off the breast, full of warm milk, eyes slowly closing, heavy breaths entering sleepy land and hands limp with dream. I want that kind of sleep, warm, happy, a deep restful sleep, where you and the bed become one. I imagine it's like lying on a big, puffy cloud, cradling me for at least 8-10 hours in its blue, hypnotic haze.

Traveling with IBS

I've been thinking a lot lately about the hassles of traveling when one suffers from IBS. I think about this a lot during the summer because this is the glorious time for vacations, long rides in the car, trips to far-off destinations and long walks on the beach. I am reminded of a time just last year when a traveling trip went horribly wrong and IBS was the culprit. It's embarrassing to say the least, but maybe once you read about it, you can relate. So here is my humiliating tale of traveler's woe.

Last fall, my boyfriend got stuck without a ride in Myrtle Beach. I had just enjoyed a dinner of greasy food and a large iced tea and was gearing up for a night of watching movies and enjoying a nice evening alone, when the phone rang at 9pm.
Craig needed me to pick him up. Now mind you, Myrtle Beach was close to four hours away and not particularly something I wanted to do. I'm not sure why I didn't just make him take the bus (probably because that thought didn't cross my mind). I put on my comfy driving clothes, grabbed our dog for safety, put gas in the car, grabbed a roll of TP (just in case) and headed down the lonely stretch of country road toward the beach.

About forty-five minutes into my journey, just me and the dog, my stomach started rumbling and doing its usual flip-flop. I thought it was just nerves because I don't enjoy driving at night and I would be driving into bumfuck. If you saw some of the areas you have to go, visions of any scary movie would come to mind.

A few moments later the urge to vomit came over me and I had to lurch the car onto the side of the road and wretched for ten minutes while the dog looked at me in horror. Whatever greasy meal I had eaten was now out of me or so I thought. I pulled myself together and made it another thirty minutes into a tiny town where I threw up again this time in a park barely having enough time to open the car door. Next I threw up another thirty minutes down the way in a church parking lot. I was a hot mess and crying and I was already half-way to the beach, so there was no way I was leaving Craig without a ride. I had come this far, I just had to keep going. I started downing Pepto pills and praying that I would not throw up anymore. The dog I think was worried about me. he kept looking at me with funny looks.

Well after four Pepto pills and a few sips of coke, guess what happened? No, not puking this time, just imagine. It was already midnight and I was driving down a two lane road in the middle of freaking nowhere when the urge to go to the bathroom was so severe that I wasn't sure what I was going to do, so I once again lurched the car over to the shoulder of the road, turned the headlights off, pushed the dog in the back seat and jumped in the passenger seat, barely getting my butt out the car door before all hell broke loose. So as embarrassing as it is to be reminded actually happened to me, it's even more embarrassing that I'm actually telling you all about it right now.

Even though I was alone on a desolate stretch of wood with my ass hanging out the side of the door, an actual big truck was coming right this way. First I was scared he would see me with my ass hanging out the car door and then I was so scared he would think I needed help so I cleaned up as fast as I could and jumped out the car and headed over to the driver side to get back in and head to the beach.

Thinking that my night could get no worse, it did. I went to pull the door handle to get in my side of the car and it was locked. To make matters worse, the car was running with my cell phone and dog inside. How the hell did I manage to get myself into this predicament? Ahh, yes I remember now, I have freaking IBS and today it was beating the shit out of me, literally from all ends. I just broke down and cried in the middle of the freaking night with my dog pressing his face up to the window looking at me like I was in sane.

Then I began to think of all the horror movies that I had watched and I thought about all the jethro-looking men in trucks that would come kidnap me and all that would be left would be my running car, a barking dog and pile of shit next to it. Maybe the police would come and think that I had run away from the embarrassment alone. When he saw what had taken place he would have laughed at me, then I would be the laughing stock of Hicksville.

I looked up to the heaven and the stars, put my hands in the air and yelled REALLY! Then I prayed that there was a rock somewhere because I was not going to let IBS win this time. I would find a way to get in that car if I had to use my damn shoe to break the window. I walked over to the other side of the car avoiding you know what and HAIL MARY, the passenger door was not all the way shut, so I jumped for joy, jumped over my shit and jumped back in my car and cried even harder, I was just so happy to be back in my car. I had forgotten that I could still be kidnapped but I had hoped the stench of my shit would be both a killer and bear deterrent.

I started back on the road and one hour and thirty minutes later, I hugged my boyfriend and told him about my incredible story of what I had to go through and four hours after that, we finally made it back home. I was exhausted, and annoyed and so happy to be home. I told Craig if that ever happened again, he better learn to hitchhike, cause this ass ain't going to pick him up no matter what.
But Looking back on now, I really do believe that ship happens and you just have to learn to deal with it, the good, bad and the super ugly trips to hell and back.

Daymares

Today I had a daymare. What you ask is a daymare. It's like a nightmare, but since I never sleep it's a nightmare that happens in the middle of the day.

This morning, I was totally exhausted from no sleep last night and after drinking a cup of hot tea followed by a cup of coffee, I was still feeling drained. Trying my best to pay attention to the task at hand, but off in this drift-away land, it happened. A minute ago I was typing and working on brochures and then moments later, my leg tapping the side of my desk was the daymare. I was now wide awake, half jittery from the coffee and scared as hell!

A horrible, realization came over me and I realized that if my boyfriend were to ever leave me for another woman, I would be single and in flashing lights I saw my classified ad in the singles section. My mouth flew open; I let out a gasp and became totally freaked. I thought to myself, this can never happen, ever!!

It read like this
"Single, mid-thirties, likes short walks on the beach, back massages, caffeine, regular doses of pills, likes complaining, and enjoys food as longs as it's doesn't make me shit. Also likes sex as long as it's in the position I desire, hot bubble baths and long, luxurious naps. Dislikes sitting too long, going out, hours of sex, working, being responsible, staying up late, doing drugs, drinking, running, exercising and chores."

It was in this daymare, that I realized if I were ever single again, I would have not one, but at least twelve strikes against me.
So it was apparent that I would never get another man and as I sat there newly awakened from this daymare, I wanted to cry.

I never used to be that person. I mean, I never saw myself over thirty, let alone, over thirty, un-married, no kids and living with not one, but two chronic illnesses. And now here I was with this huge, fat reality check on my forehead staring me in the face. The face where, just a few weeks ago, I found a hair growing from my chin and several new gray hairs that emerged from my "needs to be dyed" hair.

I know some people say that being an adult and being over thirty sucks, but this is freaking ridiculous and I think I would rather have nightmares, because at least when I wake up from them, I can go back to sleep, and sometimes you forget them all together, but with daymares, It's only 11am and I have six more hours of work to do and lots of deadlines.