The answer?
Because I don't have the balls to tell my parents I'm a Democrat.
However, for a clearer view on my politics, a blogger for Relevant Magazine put it best. Click here for the article: http://www.relevantmagazine.com/life/current-events/op-ed-blog/28298-why-i-am-a-christian-democrat
Tuesday, February 28, 2012
Saturday, February 25, 2012
Academy Awards Live Blog!
Welcome to the 2012 Academy Awards! My hysterically witty friend Kallie will be joining me for a live blog.
Be forewarned--as the wine starts flowing, the language may get a little adult. I apologize in advance.
Be forewarned--as the wine starts flowing, the language may get a little adult. I apologize in advance.
This Explains So Much
I sat here for ten minutes trying to figure out how to start this post. (Gosh, that sounds so much more dramatic than it really is. Get ready for a let down...this isn't going to be nearly as dark or exciting as you might be thinking. No secret heroin addiction or anything.) It's just that I can't figure out if I should just put it out there, or if you need the back story first.
Oh, fine. I'll start with the back story.
All my life, I've been blessed. I had a wonderful childhood. My parents are loving, funny, and incredibly supportive. My sister is my best friend, and the greatest little partner-in-crime you can imagine. Never went to daycare or had a random baby-sitter. We lived close to my grandparents growing up, so I was lucky enough to be in their care while my parents were working. I've been blessed enough to be naturally smart, so everything came pretty easily to me. (Sorry, I'm not bothering with fake modesty here. I'm not Stephen Hawking or anything, but I do pretty well.) Really, I've had a pretty charmed life.
[No, this isn't going to be a braggy post. I just need to set this up for you so you aren't trying to find some hidden trauma in my past.]
So, while I had a great upbringing, I was always more keyed-up than others. I'm a classic Type A, with a heaping dose of perfectionist impulses. I would get what my mom called "a nervous stomach" almost weekly. Whether it was stress about homework I left until the last minute or a disagreement with a friend, I could get myself from zero to stomachache in about 2.7 seconds. I'd get shaky sometimes, feel really hot, and predictably throw up.
Fast-forward to high school. Other than the typical teenage angst (major crushes on boys that liked my friends, managing the drama that comes with 15-year-olds and friendships), I developed an eating disorder. It sucked, I got over it, and moved on. I'm probably always one cheeseburger away from going back to that, but I've been lucky enough to avoid any real relapses into it.
I've been married for nearly four years now. My husband is incredible. He's funny, incredibly patient, and kind. Never raises his voice at me, and very rarely gets upset. (This is amazing. As I mentioned, I've got a type-A personality and like things done a certain way. He takes it all in stride.)
Around our second year of marriage, the economy went to hell. I got laid off, and then found a new job. His job went to commission only, and then his company folded. I'm in recruiting now, so I helped him find a new job. And then he had a stroke. At 25. He recovered amazingly well and has no residual effects. That second year of our marriage was tough. With all the work issues, things got tight financially. Nothing dramatic really happened. We never fell behind on rent, or car payments, or anything like that. But I fell apart. I was obsessing about money constantly. I couldn't eat, I couldn't sleep, and I felt like I could barely function.
Things are great now. We're happy (and gloriously child-free), love our jobs, and are quite comfortable where we live. Orange County has one of the highest costs of living in the state, but it's so worth it to live here.
Unfortunately, the anxiety has never really left me. It's been about three years of constant anxiousness. On a level of 1-10, I've been at about a five all day, every day. I've had issues off and on with insomnia, but recently it started getting rough again.
A few weeks ago, I went and saw my doctor, and was diagnosed with Generalized Anxiety Disorder. Basically, Wikipedia describes it as being "characterized by excessive, uncontrollable and often irrational worry about everyday things that is disproportionate to the actual source of worry. This excessive worry often interferes with daily functioning, as individuals suffering GAD typically anticipate disaster, and are overly concerned about everyday matters..."
That's pretty much been my life for the last few years. I've recently started a new prescription that's supposed to help with this. I've been sleeping normally again, and the anxiety is starting to go away. I feel like I'm waking up from a bad sleep, and it's an amazing relief.
I'll write a post later on the stigma of mental health issues in the Christian church. Depression, anxiety, and other issues tend to get swept under the rug with a general "pray about it," and it can be incredibly difficult. But that's another rant for another day.
ANYWAYS, this got a lot longer than I meant for it to be. But I felt like getting it off my (ample) chest, and figured this was easier than calling everyone and saying, "You were right...there WAS something wrong with me."
Next post will be much more frivolous, I promise. The Oscars are tomorrow, so I'm breaking out the wine in preparation. Hopefully this year will be better. Last February, I was waving around a glass of Merlot and hollering, "Where are the damn GOWNS?"
Oh, fine. I'll start with the back story.
All my life, I've been blessed. I had a wonderful childhood. My parents are loving, funny, and incredibly supportive. My sister is my best friend, and the greatest little partner-in-crime you can imagine. Never went to daycare or had a random baby-sitter. We lived close to my grandparents growing up, so I was lucky enough to be in their care while my parents were working. I've been blessed enough to be naturally smart, so everything came pretty easily to me. (Sorry, I'm not bothering with fake modesty here. I'm not Stephen Hawking or anything, but I do pretty well.) Really, I've had a pretty charmed life.
[No, this isn't going to be a braggy post. I just need to set this up for you so you aren't trying to find some hidden trauma in my past.]
So, while I had a great upbringing, I was always more keyed-up than others. I'm a classic Type A, with a heaping dose of perfectionist impulses. I would get what my mom called "a nervous stomach" almost weekly. Whether it was stress about homework I left until the last minute or a disagreement with a friend, I could get myself from zero to stomachache in about 2.7 seconds. I'd get shaky sometimes, feel really hot, and predictably throw up.
Fast-forward to high school. Other than the typical teenage angst (major crushes on boys that liked my friends, managing the drama that comes with 15-year-olds and friendships), I developed an eating disorder. It sucked, I got over it, and moved on. I'm probably always one cheeseburger away from going back to that, but I've been lucky enough to avoid any real relapses into it.
I've been married for nearly four years now. My husband is incredible. He's funny, incredibly patient, and kind. Never raises his voice at me, and very rarely gets upset. (This is amazing. As I mentioned, I've got a type-A personality and like things done a certain way. He takes it all in stride.)
Around our second year of marriage, the economy went to hell. I got laid off, and then found a new job. His job went to commission only, and then his company folded. I'm in recruiting now, so I helped him find a new job. And then he had a stroke. At 25. He recovered amazingly well and has no residual effects. That second year of our marriage was tough. With all the work issues, things got tight financially. Nothing dramatic really happened. We never fell behind on rent, or car payments, or anything like that. But I fell apart. I was obsessing about money constantly. I couldn't eat, I couldn't sleep, and I felt like I could barely function.
Things are great now. We're happy (and gloriously child-free), love our jobs, and are quite comfortable where we live. Orange County has one of the highest costs of living in the state, but it's so worth it to live here.
Unfortunately, the anxiety has never really left me. It's been about three years of constant anxiousness. On a level of 1-10, I've been at about a five all day, every day. I've had issues off and on with insomnia, but recently it started getting rough again.
A few weeks ago, I went and saw my doctor, and was diagnosed with Generalized Anxiety Disorder. Basically, Wikipedia describes it as being "characterized by excessive, uncontrollable and often irrational worry about everyday things that is disproportionate to the actual source of worry. This excessive worry often interferes with daily functioning, as individuals suffering GAD typically anticipate disaster, and are overly concerned about everyday matters..."
That's pretty much been my life for the last few years. I've recently started a new prescription that's supposed to help with this. I've been sleeping normally again, and the anxiety is starting to go away. I feel like I'm waking up from a bad sleep, and it's an amazing relief.
I'll write a post later on the stigma of mental health issues in the Christian church. Depression, anxiety, and other issues tend to get swept under the rug with a general "pray about it," and it can be incredibly difficult. But that's another rant for another day.
ANYWAYS, this got a lot longer than I meant for it to be. But I felt like getting it off my (ample) chest, and figured this was easier than calling everyone and saying, "You were right...there WAS something wrong with me."
Next post will be much more frivolous, I promise. The Oscars are tomorrow, so I'm breaking out the wine in preparation. Hopefully this year will be better. Last February, I was waving around a glass of Merlot and hollering, "Where are the damn GOWNS?"
The First (and Only?) One
Let's be honest. There's a very good chance I'll manage one or two blog posts, and then get bored.
It all depends on which part of my personality comes out stronger. If it's the obsessive part, I very well may become an insatiable blogger, talking about everything from cancelled TV shows to the unrest in the Middle East.
(I have a bit of an addictive personality. Not in a dangerous alcoholic/stoner way. More in the 'listen to the same album on a loop for six months, eat Campbell's Soup every day until August' kind of way.)
Or, I'll get bored after three posts because there's no real payoff. It's the same reason I tweet every two weeks or so. If no one's talking back, I get sick of my own voice. (Granted, it takes a while. I can TALK.)
Who knows? I'll give it the old college (dropout) try. I'll write at least one real blog post and put something in the About Me section. We'll see where I go from here...
It all depends on which part of my personality comes out stronger. If it's the obsessive part, I very well may become an insatiable blogger, talking about everything from cancelled TV shows to the unrest in the Middle East.
(I have a bit of an addictive personality. Not in a dangerous alcoholic/stoner way. More in the 'listen to the same album on a loop for six months, eat Campbell's Soup every day until August' kind of way.)
Or, I'll get bored after three posts because there's no real payoff. It's the same reason I tweet every two weeks or so. If no one's talking back, I get sick of my own voice. (Granted, it takes a while. I can TALK.)
Who knows? I'll give it the old college (dropout) try. I'll write at least one real blog post and put something in the About Me section. We'll see where I go from here...
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)