Cat Stevens You Groovy Guy

2 years ago my heart broke in a millionbajillion seemingly unrepairable pieces. I was lost, blind and damaged. I felt numb and dangerous. The last 2 years have been an effort of clawing my out from the never ending horror of pain that I felt.

No one understood. After all, I had these beautiful daughters. I had this roof over my head. I've never known hunger. I had a husband who not only puts up with me, but is a generally nice guy. He doesn't beat me, nor does he throw me under the bus verbally (publicly or privately). God How Selfish Am I? I have a ring on my finger. I have EVERYTHING. And I'm sad? Whatever. Get over yourself.

I tried.

I tried fasting, cleanses, therapy, God, isolation, never-ending socializing, retreats. I poured my time into activities, I volunteered, I studied. I taught, traveled, and I thought about suicide every day. I tried to keep gratitude in my heart. Count my blessings over and over and over again. I practiced mindfulness. I took antidepressants. I stopped taking antidepressants. I threw dishes. I prayed. I begged. I curled up every night not understanding why. I would wake up wondering why. Why I had to get through another day. Thinking that this is what my life would be like till it was finally, blessedly, over.

I lost months of my life to depression. I look at my kids now and I wonder where in the heck I was, and then I remember, oh right. Depression. Stolen months of my children's childhood that I don't remember because I was barely functioning.

Bit by bit the last few months I've felt like a baby learning to walk again. Bumping into things, but standing. Albeit on shaky legs, still though, reaching out, and tentatively smiling and then grimacing and then wailing and doing it all over again.

And the last few weeks.... Something has really shifted. The despair isn't there anymore. I go hunting for it emotionally sometimes, a bit of a poke in the familiar places. Like fussing with a bruise. OW! That hurts.... And you touch it again. Its not there though. The OW! is gone. The vast empty places aren't there. I'm not sure if they have been filled up... I know they aren't there anymore though.

Turns out time was the thing that really helped. Big Surprise, no?. People told me time would help take the edge off and I didn't, no, couldn't believe them.

So I'm listening to Cat Stevens today - Wild World - and I can sing along. I don't wrap up tightly in despair. I mishear (or perhaps heard what I needed) the lyric of "Baby I'm grievin'" and instead hear "Baby I'm breathin'" and I realize that Yes. Baby I'm breathin'.

Better than breathin'.. Singing.

When It Rains.....

It rains.

I've been watching some movies lately. Oh, you too? Or not so much? Either way - I tend to go in waves myownself.

And I've been listening to some music.

And reading some books.

And thinking "fuck. I'm such a slacker. I need to EXPRESS myself!" (Thanks Madonna)

I've had this blog reserved for..... AboutAMillionYears. And never posted.

So I'm this...Well, Girl. Although lately I've been trying on the "woman" label. Technically I've been a "woman" for a long time. Well, if you go by rites of passages (then the age would be 12). If you go by what I look like on the outside you would probably guess late 20's. If you go calendar years, then I'm 35. And what the F does any of that mean? Nothing.

I have 2 kids. I consistently am surprised that the older one is 7 (didn't I just yesterday get the scare of the 2 pink lines and revamp my life?. no? Well. It feels like it) and the younger one is 5. (5? Aren't I still in postpartum? Aren't I still adjusting to 2? no? Well. It feels like it)

And if you are like everyone else in my world, the answer to the next question on your tongue is:  yes/no/yes/no we are thinking of having a 3rd. Would I love to pregnant again? Erm..... Sometimes. Would I love to have another sweet, snugly baby in my arms.....? erm... Kinda.
Do I really want to bring another person into the world....? Shit - can you refill my martini and ask me in a moment?


I have a husband.
We're not exactly sure we should be together. We feel pretty great about the kids we've brought into this world, and 80-85% of the time feel like we are pretty great parents. (If you have a higher percentage in your own mind... Well. Awesome for you.. I think we've already met. You don't need to write me. : )
So the husband and I.
Well. Mostly we are pretty great. Mostly. Our bad, shady, would Shock-the-Church-Folks stuff though, is pretty juicy. And when we look at each other we mindfully think about how wonderful the other is. Very Mindfully. Very.

We're not really ready to split up though. But we're not really ready to be together either. And if you met us on the street. HAH! You would have no idea. Because we function really well together. And we look good together. Meaning aesthetically we look alright.

So here I am. Having this blog (although really I should journal. I loathe journal~ling though.  Lucky You Interweb - You get bits of my head instead!).

~Orange Girl

What do you mean you Kant?

Dear A,


Tonight I grabbed a RealSimple from the bookcase - a magazine I always love to look at in the grocery store and never buy. You gave me subscription (yea!) and then I never looked at those lovely magazines that arrived in my mail either (sigh). Until TONIGHT!

And what do I find in my delight? (I imagine you are at the edge of your seat wondering the answer)...

Vegetarian Cooking for Meat Eaters.
Privacy Online

And lastly... Philosophy 101.


Did you know that I minored in Philosophy?   Hmmm.  I'm not sure if this question is posed to you, A, or RealSimple. 

So, I'm reading the Philosophy Article in RealSimple (does this seem like an oxymoron to anyone besides me?) and of course I have to drag out my Philosophy book from college.

Wow - that almost sounds scholarly.

Let me back up.

I hated college.

Really hated college.

Granted I had the "college experience" i.e. smoked some pot (didn't inhale. BWHAHHAHA), had a lesbian experience (didn't we all?   no?  oh. well.  Awkward!), and had extreme guilt over the good money my parents were spending on COLLEGE while I desperately tried to figure out WTF I was doing.


Even with all of that.... I had this Philosophy Teacher. He was amazing. And by amazing I mean, we (the students) would show up, some of us had actually read the material (OH! That was me! That was one class I actually cared about! ) and then we would pick his brain.  He was an Asian man living in the rural Midwest.  Granted it was a liberal arts college.....  A liberal arts college surrounded by cornfields and guys with trucks filled with gun racks, guns, and dawgs.  And he listened to us, asked questions of us, spoke softly and passionately.  Put up with our shenanigans. 

So for the first time in my life I was introduced to other folks who were AS full of questions and angst as I was. Why is a fucking chair called a chair?
And what about Christianity? (What does that question mean for you? Now that's a can of worms... Or not)

So I'm looking through my college textbook for the highlighted parts (I paid a lot of money to highlight words of my choosing...!) And the first one is this:


We must appreciate how important it is to nurture our curiosity.

Interesting! 15 years later that when I now teach childbirth classes, this is one of the things I touch on drill in... The idea of being "curious" to the experience.

Was I truly that deep 15 years ago? Or am I just freakin' stagnant? Or neither. Or a bit of both? Am I curious to the answer?

Funny - in my anecdotal bits about college I tend to self-deprecate my slackeredness. In re-reading my philosophy book however, I was ALL kinds of serious. I have highlighted, underlined, and written in the margins. Maybe it's time to opt for a bit of forgiveness towards my time in college. Obviously I took some things seriously. Like my very core.