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Today I was drowning in a tsunami of grief and sorrow. I cried throughout the day, at times worried that people on the other side of my cube would hear.  I managed okay in my meeting because I let the others do the talking, with me just piping in with questions to move the conversation in a new direction or to delve deeper into the topic at hand.

Inside I was asking how 366 days could have passed? June 20, 2015 was the last day we saw Bear. Then the boys were off to camp weeks and such. The next time I thought I would see him was at the end of July for Younger Son’s birthday. Instead I identified his body at the trauma center.

Those images are burned in brain and haunt my nightmares still, but a year ago today we were with Bear. Since a picture is worth a thousand words, here are a few thousands words on the happiness and love that filled that day.

IMG_0673      IMG_0729

 

On  July 16 I will have lived a year without my beloved Bear. While the sadness and grief continues to be overwhelming at times, it has already been a year filled with great blessings and many happy times. My hope is that the saying about a house holds true even a little bit for grief. You have to live in it for a year to know what it’s like in every season. Then I can start making repairs to my heart.

Finally, I can get Older Son personalized stuff without special ordering it. Congratulations to the cast & crew!

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But I’ve never been to me. Okay, not exactly. This is a time of life full of transitions for me. Trying to get rid of Wally once and for all, new job, I get home earlier (well, not while I’m teaching but that only has a couple more weeks), and sons who are the most independent they’ve yet been. I have some time on my hands.

Normally this time of year I’d be prepping for a big event for one of the boards I’m on. But that event had changed, much to my sadness. So I thought about it a LOT. I’ve been a big part of this event for about a decade. I wasn’t sure what to do about my sadness.

I’m going to spend the time reinvesting in me. Do extra workouts to get rid of Wally even quicker. Continue my Quixotic quest for an uncluttered house. We’re hoping to start work on the bloody bathroom soon (I hope, I hope, I hope). I’m going to take Rex on long leisurely walks (he lasts about 15 minutes, maybe I can build him up to 20?). Go on the trails with my sons. Color! Read! Write! Sew! Learn to crochet!

And maybe, just maybe, Hubby and I can have a date night!

I have not let myself slow down for so long that I truly suck at it. Am I afraid of something? Do I think the world is going to stop? Do I have such delusions of grandeur? Really, who cares if I choose to spend some quality time binging on Netflix? Who cares if I make toys from all the freakin’ cat hair I sweep up all the time?

To quote Queen, this is your life. So what have I been waiting for?

https://mic.com/articles/145425/one-tweet-destroys-the-stanford-rapist-s-dad-s-disgusting-defense-of-his-son#.y0fK5FK8G

Swedish Gentlemen

Here is an article with/about the two Swedish gentlemen. And are they gentlemen. Still respecting her by not getting into it. The rapist could learn a thing or two from these gentlemen.

https://www.buzzfeed.com/emaoconnor/meet-the-two-swedish-men-who-caught-brock-turner?utm_term=.pqoZv5mYv2&bffbvid#.yuyxEoj1EG

My sons are 12 and 10. They know rape is a violent crime. And according to title 9, if alcohol is involved, for either party, consent is not possible. Since this was a frat party, title 9 applies. She couldn’t legally give consent. Neither could he, but his actions sure did. This happens too often on college campuses. Usually they don’t even get national coverage. There is an NFL player, alum of FSU, that got away with this shit. ( http://www.nytimes.com/2016/01/26/sports/football/florida-state-to-pay-jameis-winstons-accuser-950000-in-settlement.html?_r=0 ) It is a disgusting underbelly of our tertiary education system that must be ended. I guess this is a pathetic first step, but six months? Seriously? Then again, Winstons wasn’t even criminally charged.

http://www.scarymommy.com/brock-turner-dad-judge-letter/?utm_source=FB

Wally & PB

Truthfully, PB doesn’t like Wally.  PB is my Prolapsed Bladder. I’ve had PB even longer than I’ve had Wally. PB reared its ugly head after the birth of Younger Son.  See, I’m not very tall, but most of my height is in my legs. Very short torso. And my sons were on the bigger side. Each was two weeks early. Older son weighed 7 lb 15 oz and Younger Son weighed 8 lb 9 oz. They both dropped into position by the sixth or seventh month and then just rested their big ol’ heads on my bladder till the time came to push those same big ol’ heads out of my whowho. About a month after Younger Son was born, I went to my checkup and told the doctor it just felt weird down there, uncomfortable. She said those famous gyno words, “come closer to the edge and we’ll have a look”. She looked and said, “well, no wonder you’re uncomfortable, your bladder is hanging out of your vagina”. She put it back and things had been mostly manageable till Wally came along.

So PB can’t wait for Wally to leave. I’m still walking, still eating a better diet, and still attempting yoga. That hurts and I don’t like it. There is nothing restful or peaceful about it-yet. But I am sure as I continue to widdle Wally down to size, it will get better. When I walk I now do a little torso twist to make Wally a bigger part of the experience. I probably look like an asshole, but I don’t care.

 

Tourette’s Syndrome (TS) is not uncontrollable cursing. Uncontrollable cursing is coprolalia, and while it does have a slightly higher occurrence in people with TS, it’s not TS.

That is my first myth debunked during this Tourette’s Syndrome Awareness Month which runs from May 15 to June 15.

Fact: TS is a neurological disorder characterized by repetitive and involuntary movements and vocalizations called tics. The disorder is named for Dr. Georges Gilles de la Tourette, the French neurologist who first described the condition in 1885.

Important Person with TS: Younger Son. He was diagnosed when he was seven, three years ago. Hence, why it is my cause.

I will share facts, debunk myths, and highlight an important person who also happens to have TS during the month. Help break some if the stereotypes by reading these posts and sharing the information.

I love What About Bob? as much as the next person, but it set back TS quite a bit. These little tidbits of knowledge will help spread the facts about TS.

And in case you love adding a ribbon, the TS color (as far as I know) is teal. 😀 And for Younger Son, his favorite emoji: 💩

Have a happy day!

Where’s Wally?

A friend commented that one day we could ask, “Where’s Wally?” I realized we could make a series of books. Everyone loves a hidden picture book. We could hide wiggly, jiggly Wally (yes, a cartoon version of my big ol’ belly) in various settings that one could typically find a belly like him in.

The first book would be Where’s Wally?: Perimenopause Edition. There could be a picture of women with thinning hair, strands floating in the air, piles of hair on the floor. And hidden somewhere in the room is Wally. Next page has women having hot flashes. Women fanning themselves, sweat dripping from their brows, Wally hidden among the puddles of sweat on the floor. Next picture is a room with women walking around trying to remember why they entered the room, Wally hidden under a sculpture or a macrame scarf, an item no one came in looking for. Then fatigue room, women dozing at their desks, Wally hidden on a desk lamp or behind a framed picture of some woman’s children.

The hardest picture, at the end of the book, right after the mood swing page, would be the “weight gain in the torso” area page. Now this would be tricky, a lot of decoy Wallys in the room.

I could sell the book to cardiologists, gynecologists specializing in a peri & post menopausal practice, day spas, anywhere the target audience goes with a waiting room.

Meet Wally

So after Bear died I ate a lot of grief. Put on 25 pounds in about a month. Then I kept eating and the holidays came and I put on about 15 more pounds. I grew quite a belly. Today I named it Wally.

Now I know what they say, once you name it, it’s harder to get rid of it. But Wally really makes his presence known throughout the day so I felt he deserved a name instead of just the litany of curse words I’ve been calling it.

I have no plans of keeping him. He gets on my nerves constantly. He is very intrusive, has cut my wardrobe options in half, and is way too jiggly for my liking.

Now I know I’ll never be buff, wear a bikini, or exist again below 150 pounds, but I can evict Wally. I’ve been making strides. I have a great support team, Hubby, my sons & my two BFFs. They all help. Hubby buys my new foods-it’s a change of life diet, not dieting. My sons make me laugh, working out Wally’s former muscles. My BFFs motivate me, and also make me laugh. Okay, they all make me laugh.

I will laugh Wally away.

So far I’ve lost 7 pounds.

I am actually exercising regularly, not just the bullshit exercise I usually claim to do when my doctor asks if I’m exercising.

So I am taking baby steps to change my lifestyle to get rid of Wally. I felt I should introduce him before he leaves.