Some Assembly Required

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A sure sign of success of a divorced woman: Assembling not one, but TWO shelving systems. In under an hour. All by myself. Without breaking any pieces. And not one, but BOTH of them are assembled CORRECTLY. And not to brag or anything, but both kids were running around like crack addicts in withdrawal all the while. And I didn’t even lose a screw. Or my mind. Ha! Really, who needs a husband around anyway when I can follow diagrams??

The first year post-divorce was arguably one of the worst years of my life for many reasons. Surviving it was truly empowering. I learned to do many things I didn’t ever want to do (like replacing a toilet), and things that never occurred to me to do (like making sure the sump pump really works). I learned what to do with shrubbery, mulch, and grass; propane tanks, hacksaws, and wildlife in the house. I laid down insulation in my attic with my own hands (gloved hands–lesson learned). I took down trees and power washed everything in sight. I stained my deck, fenced off a vegetable garden (never mind that nothing grew but weeds), climbed onto my roof and cleaned out gutters–and didn’t fall off.

I did all these things and more, including making sure both my children are still alive and well. But something about today’s shelving assembly felt so satisfying. I have put together a lot of Ikea furniture in my life, but none of them well–hello, Billy Bookcase. I ruined a lot of Billy’s (and I’m proud to say I never even dated a Billy). The kids’ craft table and chairs…well, let’s just say that I blame the kids for a lot of things–misshapen cut-out cookies, messy homes and uneven, warped furniture pieces, among other things. The craft table and chairs: if anyone asks, totally all their fault.

But I didn’t need to blame anyone today. I did it. “All by myself!” as my daughter loves to say with pride. And I was so proud. I guess there really is never anyone to blame after all. I’ve learned to rely on myself, and upon doing so, taken responsibility for myself and all my actions and decisions. It’s always been about me–somehow, whenever anything good or bad occurs in my life, I happen to be right there! Successes and failures–all mine. I can take pride in my accomplishments, and be kind and forgiving to myself with my failures. I can learn from both.

But take heed–When you come over, I wouldn’t advise sitting on the Adirondack chairs in the backyard. Just sayin’.

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This Is Your Brain on Misinformation

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I wanted to follow up with more thoughts and lessons learned from my brain injury that I think are really important for all of us to be aware of.

First, you need to know I’m not competent. Granted, on a good day I’m not so competent, but compound that with a brain injury, and truly I’m a poseur. When people told me a concussion was serious, or urged me to see a doctor or take care of myself, I would nod compliantly. And that would be that. I couldn’t think straight, if at all. I couldn’t process what to do with that information and take appropriate actions then. Add the fact that it was very difficult to find clinicians to treat this, and we have someone walking around for three weeks like a glorified zombie. Lesson for everyone: force the matter. Be bossy and do whatever it takes to get your loved one or friend to a doctor’s appointment. A brain-injured person is not competent and does not make good judgments. Also, I knew I had a concussion the second it happened, but I literally could not find the word “concussion” to say out loud for three days. I kept trying to tell someone, but my brain could not label the concept. If someone tells you they hit their head, take them to get tested immediately–don’t wait until symptoms worsen.

Second, anyone can get a concussion from pretty much anything. I hit my head into a soft net. A woman bumped her head on a kitchen cabinet. My son fell off his horse last year and didn’t even hit his head–but the sudden stop of forward momentum shook his little brain around. You need to know it doesn’t require a direct blow to the head.

Third, symptoms and duration differ with everyone–it’s a very individualized experience. My son had a headache and grogginess for a couple days. Kitchen Cabinet Woman had symptoms worse than mine.

Fourth, speaking of symptoms…people assume if there are few symptoms, no brain bleed, or no loss of consciousness, then the concussion is not as serious. This myth is absolutely incorrect. Very significant cognitive deficits can occur with a normal brain scan (it doesn’t show the cellular damage) and no loss of consiousness.

Fifth, speaking of myths…I was always told you shouldn’t let someone fall asleep after a head injury. Wrong again! Rest and sleep really help in the recovery process. Click here for more myths. Read them all!

Sixth, speaking of recovery…As Claire Lenker, LCSW, CCM, Assistant Professor and Training Director at University of Alabama at Birmingham, and Social Worker Extraordinaire, noted in the previous post’s comment section–there is standard of care for concussions. However, it’s not widely disseminated, even to medical professionals. She’s absolutely right: First and foremost you need to rest. That means NO physical activity at all–nothing that can increase your heart rate. Cognitive rest is needed. This means no reading, problem solving, processing thoughts, computer use, watching TV, texting (which requires hand/eye coordination), video games. Do not use your brain. This is very hard to do. See a professional who uses standardized cognitive tests to gauge progress at regular intervals. Hydrate. Hydrate. Eat more omega-3s and omega-6s. Hydrate more. Sleep as much as you possibly can. When cleared to gradually resume activity, do so slowly and cautiously. If symptoms return at all, cease and desist. Rest for a full 24 hours, and start over at step one. This is not the medical advice I received initially, which is why I suffered for longer than necessary.

What happens if you don’t follow all this sage advice? Serious cognitive, physical, and mood symptoms can last for months–six months or more. And if you hit your head again before you’ve fully recovered, that subsequent damage could be permanent. Please, be kind to your brain. Be knowledgeable and advocate for the brains of our friends and children.

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If Only I Had a Brain

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Cover of The Scarecrow of Oz (1915) by L. Frank Baum; illustration by John R. Neill.

The Scarecrow in the Wizard of Oz had it right–of all things, the brain is what you should ask for. As you’ve read, I suffered a concussion 3 weeks ago. I’m only now just recovering, thanks to the amazing clinicians at HeadFirst. More on that later.

It’s been frustrating, to say the least, coping with a traumatic brain injury, and trying to live my life of work, raising two kids, training for two half-marathons, and keeping up a social calendar. The symptoms were horrific, but the lack of understanding from myself, medical professionals and friends was also really difficult.

When you say “concussion,” people often times assume it’s just a bad headache. Yes, it’s that–unrelenting for days–3 weeks in my case. But I was also so seriously nauseous that I couldn’t eat, fatigued beyond belief, dizzy and tipping over, and very sensitive to light. I felt like I was trapped in a fog, felt so slowed down, couldn’t concentrate or remember anything. It was like my brain was on “pause”–I literally could not think. I couldn’t recall words to have a conversation, despite knowing the concept in my head. I was really irritable (more so than my usual self–I know, it was ugly), and was so drowsy but couldn’t sleep. Miserable.

Then it got worse. I went to see Jon Stewart with friends and a date. I know I had a great time, and Jon Stewart was very funny. Only I couldn’t remember any of his jokes, and I couldn’t recall chunks of conversation with my date. The amnesia terrified me. And still it got worse. Simply having a conversation with a friend to plan an evening’s activity was too much for my brain. After ending that 20-minute conversation, I promptly got lost in a building I’ve worked in for 13 years.

I didn’t understand what was going on. I was getting frustrated with myself. I couldn’t control what I was saying or wanted to say. It felt like I was watching life unfold before me, and all I could do was watch through a foggy window. I felt dull and slow and not myself. But I kept pushing myself to lead my normal life, because it was “only a concussion.” Of course this made matters worse.

I was also getting frustrated with everyone else. People see you physically standing there, well-groomed and alert. They don’t see the mess upstairs in the head (I’ve since been told it’s akin to shaking a snowglobe). They assume it’s just a headache, some mental fogginess. Get some rest they say. Oh, it’s just a concussion. No, it’s a BRAIN INJURY. Nothing about me is right. I was frustrated that people seemed so nonchalant about something so serious. To be fair, I also didn’t take it seriously the first two weeks.

I ended up getting pissed off at my doctor. She did order a CT scan. Thankfully there was no bleed and it was normal. She told me to keep running and do what I needed to in life, but rest when I felt the need to. (I did tell her later that her medical advice was in fact incorrect. She sends her apologies.)

Rest. People kept telling me to rest. You’ll feel better then. OK, but what does rest mean? Slowing down, reading a book, watching TV, watching YouTube memes? You know I will always push the envelope. I needed to know what exactly was wrong, and concretely how to make it better. Well, it took brain injury specialists at HeadFirst to tell me not only what was wrong with me, but how to fix it. Leading physicians at a world renowned biomedical research hospital didn’t know what to tell me. No one else had any concrete steps or a treatment plan for me. Apparently, rest means no exercise of any kind, but also no computer, texting, reading or watching TV. Yes, it was as miserable as it sounds. (I did negotiate a drink a night if I promised to stay very hydrated.)

Through this experience I have come to understand the brain is who we are, regardless of what your beliefs are spiritually or otherwise, regarding your soul, heart, passions. It all starts in the brain. Your thoughts, your perceptions, your mood, your feelings, your impulse control, your reaction times. My brain is who I am. I panicked–I had to fix this. I couldn’t permanently be less than me, or other than me. I needed to be me! This is my only brain, it’s not a limb that breaks or requires a prosthetic, it’s not one of my two eyes, it’s not like I can get a cardiac implant like a pacemaker.

So I am beyond grateful to have found such competent clinicians. There’s not a lot of research in brain injuries, but they’re on the forefront of education and treatment. I feel compelled to spread the word of both brain injuries (a concussion sounds so trite–let’s call it what it really is, a TRAUMATIC brain injury)–what they are, how they feel, how they manifest, how they’re treated–and of HeadFirst.

HeadFirst provides education to medical professionals, schools, athletic teams, and the general public. They teach people what concussions and brain injuries are, and how to treat them. They also provide a very comprehensive evaluation using ImPACT (computerized cognitive test), a neurological exam, and clinical exam.  ImPACT takes about 20 minutes and tests reaction time, problem solving, working memory, and some other cognitive functions I honestly can’t remember. The clinicians then provide a detailed treatment plan based on your symptoms and the test results.

Gratitude does not begin to describe how I feel about these professionals. Not only for their expertise–they are the only ones I found in this area doing this kind of work–but for their compassion and support through this ordeal. I stumbled upon them from a friend who happened to notice their building. I firmly believe more people need to know about their services. They’ll come out to do educational talks for groups–call them! They’ll do baseline assessments for student athletes–call them! They’ll assess head injuries after a bump–call them! Fran is also very funny and is a yoga expert–don’t tell her I said call her, but if you do, tell her I said hi. She’s awesome.

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Garden State of Mind

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Without fail, no matter how many years it’s been since I’ve lived here (22 years, but who’s counting?), every time I find myself sitting in traffic on Route 17 in Bergen County, NJ, my entire body sighs, and thinks: “Home.”

I’m home.

“Home is not where you live but where they understand you.” -Christian Morgenstern

I wasn’t even born in Jersey, and I haven’t lived there in over two decades. But when I come to see family several times a year, I know I’m home. There are many things I lamented when I was growing up here–the traffic, the sheer fact that it was New Jersey, the traffic…But the second I moved to New Jersey, I knew I was home. There’s something about the pace and feel of life here that resonates with me. Something about how it’s a bit tacky, a bit scrappy, a bit rough around the edges. They understand me. You can take the girl outta Jersey, but you definitely can’t take the Jersey outta the girl.

Where do you call Home?

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“Your outlook on life is a direct reflection of how much you like yourself”–Unknown

poster_ENG_webGo ahead, read that quote again and let it sink in. I’ll wait.

It’s a good one, huh? I’d love to say I’m a good enough writer to have made that one up, but it’s from the lululemon manifesto. Honestly, I’m not a good enough writer to get paid to write, much less come up with pithy sayings.

I wanted to say something profound about this quote, share a recent life story or realization to illustrate how accurate this quote is. I’ll be honest, I got nothing. All I’ve got is the remnants of a concussion from my last trapeze outing. Thankfully my head is indeed thick so everything in there is as normal as it’s ever going to be. But I still can’t string together words to make a logical thought. So there you go. It’s a sharing day instead of a creative day.

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Very Inspiring Blogger Award

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“We are lonesome animals. We spend all our life trying to be less lonesome. One of our ancient methods is to tell a story begging the listener to say — and to feel — “Yes, that’s the way it is, or at least that’s the way I feel it. You’re not as alone as you thought.” –John Steinbeck

Thank you SO much to mommyverbs and Tuttacronaca for nominating me for the Very Inspiring Blogger Award!! I am so honored because mommyverbs inspires me very much–it humbles me that she would even consider me to be inspiration! And Tuttacronaca is a remarkably prolific blogger! One of the main reasons I write this blog is to normalize the feelings and experiences we all feel and undergo. But we somehow keep these stories inside, fearing others may judge us or not understand us–when in fact, we’re all in the same boat. It’s important for me to normalize our fears and joys and insecurities and pride and anxieties and triumphs by sharing my stories. So part of this award is also sharing seven things about me–see below!
Here are the rules of the award:
1.) Display the award logo on your blog.
2.) Link back to the person who nominated you.
3.) State 7 things about yourself.
4.) Nominate 15 bloggers for this award.
5.) Notify those bloggers of the nomination by linking to one of their specific posts so that they get notified by ping back.

More about me:

1. I’m a loud, energetic, outgoing…introvert.

2. I’ve decided if you add vodka to anything, you can rightfully call it a martini and you’re fancy instead of just a drunk (Mango martini! Hazelnut martini! Apple cider martini! Strawberry lemonade martini!).

3. Third grade math is kicking my ass. For reals. I’m smart, I think–I have a master’s degree from an Ivy League school, for God’s sake. But I have to ask The Google sometimes when checking my son’s homework. Perhaps I need to rethink my enthusiasm for him performing above grade level. I may not be able to tolerate the humiliation by 5th grade.

4. I am addicted to TED talks.

5. The older I get, the more I understand life is mostly gray—there are very few things truly black or white. I chuckle that I used to feel so CERTAIN that issues were one way, things meant ONE thing, that life happens THIS way. Silly rabbit, Trix are for kids…

6. It’s taken me a long time to understand the difference between being direct and being rude. General shout-out to the world: Sorry ‘bout that…

7. I don’t know how to teach my daughter that outsides don’t matter nearly as much as insides if I continue to be addicted to things that sparkle.

And here are 15 blogs that inspire me!

You’re Just a Dumb Ass

A Wild One Within

Sweet Little Thang

In Wine There is Wisdom

Finding Blanche

Momastery

Ordinary Courage

Rantings of an Amateur Chef

Fit For a Year

The Foodies

Rodney Agura

Mika Fryling

Belle Grove Plantation Bed and Breakfast

The Dough Will Rise Again

To Be Aware

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In the Thick of It

DSC_0011I hit the flying trapeze again and shared some pictures with friends. I was so proud of myself. When I looked at the photos, I noted to a friend how I didn’t realize I was THAT THICK. I was surprised my midsection looked so thick. And I told her that I had finally let go of the intense desire to look like a willowy thin waif who struts down catwalks, and graces magazine covers and red carpets. It’s a good thing I’ve let that go too, since apparently in real life I more accurately resemble a bear preparing for hibernation–only not as hairy.

In the past, I would have been hesitant or embarrassed to show the pictures because I wouldn’t have felt I was thin enough, and thus would have believed they were horrible pictures. I would have been steeped in self-loathing, wishing I wasn’t as thick. Wishing I was literally half the size.  Wishing that there was less of me.

But now, I just think “Huh,” because I know what my body can do. I can do the flying trapeze. I can run 13 miles. I can curl 20 pounds. I can finally do two chin ups without assistance (and several with a chair assist!). I can do real push ups. Knowing this makes me love and appreciate my body. Like I never had before.

I’ve also come to terms with the fact that there’s no end goal that is static. Yes, my magical thinking and hopeful wishes had me hoping for, striving for, expecting a goal weight or look, and keeping it there forever and ever…through pregnancies, holiday meals, bloating, bad conference meals, travel schedules, illnesses, injuries, aging. It was exhausting fighting real life and holding on to that wishful thinking. I’ve finally come to accept my body is like everything else in life–it waxes and wanes.  And I’m working on being gentle and patient and forgiving of myself through these changes….because I can’t be gentle, patient, and forgiving to my children or anyone else if I don’t treat myself kindly. So I’m trying to accept some months I’m thicker, some months I’m leaner, some months I’m softer, some months I’m more defined. But always, always, I am strong and fierce. And available for bear hugs. Especially to the willowy, wispy ones–poor gals must be so hungry.

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Julia

Julia

“Half of what I say is meaningless, but I say it just to reach you, Julia”–Lyric by John Lennon, in his song to his mother, Julia.

I saw this at the American Visionary Art Museum in Baltimore (HIGHLY recommend by the way). I was walking up the spiral staircase holding my six-year-old daughter’s hand. I saw this and stopped. And cried. And did not take this picture, because photography is prohibited in the museum…

You’ve read how my sweet child tests me, loves me, taunts me, tries to be me. You know the struggles we have as I want her to be better than me, more than me, and less of me. And she just wants to be me, and loved for her.

She has quite the temper, like me. She has a low frustration tolerance, like me. And she wants people to pay attention to her when she speaks, like all of us. She wants to matter. And when she feels she does not, hell hath no fury like a scorned six-year-old. No, really–the neighbors across the cul-de-sac can hear her and keep a respectable and polite distance from her.

I’ve been teaching her to use her words to get her needs met appropriately. I’m big on teaching people (adults and kids!) that words have meaning. Use them judiciously. But use them to make your needs known, and hopefully met. Be careful what words you use, they have meaning. And power. They can hurt, they can heal.

So when she gets reallyreallyreally angry, and she’s tired and frustrated, and had a bad day, and can’t hold her shit together any longer, she inevitably screams: “I HATE YOU! Don’t ever talk to me ever again!” and spews forth vitriol, coated in hatred, dipped in anger, sprinkled with contempt. Pretty sure she spits too. Possibly fire. Maybe snot. Either way, it’s ugly.

Granted, she’s gotten a lot better with holding her shit together and using her words as best she can. There’s progress. But when she feels like she isn’t valued at that moment, when she feels like what she’s trying to tell me doesn’t matter, when she feels like she’s not being heard…she does what she does best to get my attention, to connect with me, to reach me. She doesn’t mean it, we both know that. But she’s struggling to reach me.

And don’t we all? For the parents out there–don’t all our kids do this? Act out, scream loudly, act too silly, say and do inappropriate things when they know better–to reach out to us? And don’t we as adults do this too? Still? Don’t worry, I won’t tell anyone you just nodded. I do it too.

We all want to matter. We all want to be heard. We all need to choose our words wisely. That’s the best way to reach each other: Mean what you say, say what you mean.

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Online Dating Tips For Men (or Why I Haven’t Met Anyone I Like Yet)

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Special Valentine’s Day Edition. Consider this a public service–some helpful tips for men who want to be successful in their online dating ventures, based on my sociological research project that is Online Dating. You’re welcome:

1. Under the category to describe your “Body Type,” be honest. It means what you look like NOW. Not what you’d LIKE to look like. If you’ve posted photos: I. Can. See. You.

2. If you’d like to keep a conversation going, it’s helpful to throw in a question or two, or discuss something that is conducive to a back-and-forth. Asking “How ya doin’?” or simply saying “Good morning” though polite, isn’t going to be that helpful to you–there’s only so far I can take that, and only so many times you can ask. If it’s this hard to have a conversation with you now, when you’re supposedly putting your best foot forward, methinks it’s not going to improve. I really don’t want to go out with you then–because I would likely drink too much and then kiss you only because I’d be bored. And I don’t like waking up bathed in regret.

3. Your company logo and contact information for free estimates should not be prominent in your profile picture. I should not have to explain why.

4. Spell check is your friend. Or should be.

5. Don’t bring a gift on the first date. You may think it’s sweet. It’s actually creepy. Not the same thing.

6. Don’t call your female colleagues “whores” on our first date. It’s a real conversation killer. This also should not need an explanation.

7. Please don’t text me right after I get in my car when the date ends. Unless I’ve accidentally left my purse. And please don’t email every 12 hours asking when I’ll respond. Both instances of eagerness are flattering, but a bit overwhelming.

8. Pay attention to details. If my profile states I’m looking for a specific age range, props to you for trying if you’re a few years over/under my preferred range. However, 20-30 years older is a bit optimistic on your part. You’ll have a better hit rate by respecting stated desires.

9. I appreciate your honesty, but telling me you stay home a lot by yourself and that you’re pretty depressed only makes me want to send you a referral for a psychotherapist. Positive attitudes=attractive.

10. Be kind to the bartender, wait staff and valet attendant. I’m watching you. How you treat them is more telling than how you treat me on a date. It’s more important than what you’re wearing, where you’ve traveled, or what you do for a living. Just be kind, and eventually you’ll find a great fit. Promise. Well, no, I don’t promise. But I’m pretty sure I’m right. The other 9 tips: I promise I’m right on those.

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Fun. Some Nights at least.

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Several of my friends recently noted that I was their “fun” friend. The go-to friend to plan outings to have a good time. Thanks, I said. But then it got me thinking–what was it about me that was “fun?” I really thought for a second they’d say it was because I drink. A lot. Thankfully that wasn’t one of their answers, but they weren’t very helpful. They said I do fun things, I’m fun, I’m not boring. Thanks. Really, I’m glad I can bring smiles to people’s faces. But I really wanted to know how, and why, I was in the fun category as opposed to another category. Because truth be told, I’ve never considered myself to be a fun person. Don’t get me wrong, I try to have fun, but I always thought my other friends were the fun ones, the cool ones, the daring ones, the adventurous ones. I always thought I was a bit dull and boring–at best run-of-the-mill.

The dictionary defines fun as: providing entertainment, amusement, or enjoyment.

Ah, OK. I get it. Random shit happens to me so my life stories can provide great entertainment. I am a smidge impulsive, so in that way I can see how I amuse people. But enjoyment–now that resonates with me. Perhaps people think I’m “fun” because I enjoy. I enjoy life, I enjoy experiencing things. I’m a planner, but I don’t need things to go perfectly. I am open to opportunities as life unfolds–to stumbling down alleyways in new cities to discover where those smells are coming from. I see things. I hear things. And I think, “Why not?” It may never have occurred to me before to try it, but then I think, “Huh. Bet I can!”

The other night, I went out with a friend for a low-key dinner. We had a nice meal, some good wine. Then she mentioned there was a bar down the street with a mechanical bull. She had me at “mechanical.” I mean really, where in tarnation (or the suburbs at least) are you going to find a flipping mechanical bull, of all things?? There was no way I was passing that up. I may never be thisclose to one ever again in my life!

Alright, in reality, it’s ridiculous. I had the hardest time getting ON the damn thing. I had to keep hopping up and down like I was on a trampoline to get enough momentum to mount the stupid bull. I however had a much easier time getting OFF the bull. I was promptly thrown off after oh, one second each time? I would be an unemployable rodeo cowboy. But boy was it fun!

I suppose if you’re open to trying new things, and not letting fears dictate your decisions, then that’s fun? Or is it that I just enjoy being in the moment and being with the people around me? I guess I still don’t know what makes me “fun”–I’m not a risk-taker, I’m not an adrenaline fiend. But I’m apparently the one who organizes a lot of outings and is open to looking like a fool. Funny how self-perceptions can be so different from others’ perceptions. Think of the “fun” people in your life–what is it that makes him/her fun?

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