growinghumans


Hostage Negotiation
October 27, 2015, 11:46 pm
Filed under: Uncategorized

Target is hard.

I took my Tiny Human to Target today because I needed to exchange something. While there, I decided to get her a Shopkins. If you don’t know what Shopkins are, GOD BLESS YOU. And Google them.

Anyway.

On the way to get the Shopkins, we passed the Disney Tsum Tsum display. If you don’t know what a Tsum Tsum is, GOD BLESS YOU. And Google them.

There was a lone Pooh Bear left in the display. Tiny Human picked him up, cuddled him and asked for him.

“You can’t have both the Pooh and the Shopkins.”

“Okay. Can I look at the Shopkins first?”

“Yes.”

We walked to the Shopkins display and she found a set that she decided she wanted.

“Okay. Now you have to decide which you want more. You have $5 to spend.”

“I want both.”

“No.”

“Yes.”

“No.”

UNTIL THE END OF TIME.

or 3 minutes.

She wasn’t in tantrum mode yet, but I could tell we were heading that way and that wasn’t about to happen today when I was already riding the unstable highway, mentally.

“Okay, I need to find a few other things in the store. Would you like to walk around with both and then make an informed decision closer to check out time?”

“Yes.”

Kids lie.

We walked around the store, collecting things we don’t need but needed because I had a 5% off coupon …so…

We decided Tiny Human needed a pair of sparkly ballet flats.

Because I can’t wear them.

“Are you ready to make your choice? We are done in the store.”

“Yes.”

“Okay, which is going on the shelf?”

“None. I want them both.”

“No.”

“Yes.”

“NO.”

YES.”

“Fine. Then none.”

“What if you put the shoes back and I get both?”

Is she joking right now?

“No, it doesn’t work that way.”

(It sort of works that way…)

This goes on for a while and snowballs into her crying in the shoe aisle.

“Okay. Give me both toys and I will decide.”

This clearly meant, in some other language, to please throw the Pooh Tsum Tsum at the shoe display shelf, lodging him down behind the fixture.

Which of course, resulted in a complete meltdown.

Which of course, resulted in a Target employee coming over and offering to retrieve the Pooh. To which I said NAY THIS IS GOD’S WORK. HE IS GONE.

Target member got what I was laying down and backed away slowly.

Tiny human was left, sobbing and holding her Shopkins set.

“But I wanted the Pooh all along…”

My heart shattered into a million pieces because LITHIUM WITHDRAWAL and I started finagling my childlike hands between the wall and the fixture, searching for the Tsum Tsum. I secretly found it but kept a straight face, realizing my moment of victory had arrived.

“If I can get this Pooh out, will you put the Shopkins back?”

She nodded, sniffling in the way that deprived, abused children generally do.

“Show me. Go put it on the shelf.”

She did and I pulled the Pooh Tsum Tsum from the crevice. Utter and sheer delight immediately spread across Tiny Human’s face.

“CAN WE GO HOME NOW?” I pleaded.

We did. In one piece. 2 hours later.

Parenting.



A review of Blo Salon in Brier Creek, NC
October 25, 2015, 12:38 pm
Filed under: Uncategorized

I’d been to Blo Salon in Brier Creek several times before. They were the ones who created my famous pixie cut. However, I had never been to get a color. I had actually never been anywhere to get a color job done.

Hello, my name is Carrie and I use box color.

I know. I know you just cringed.

You know who didn’t cringe?

My stylist, Bonnie.

When I came in for my initial consultation after a botched box dye job, she looked at me and said, “Here’s what we can do, and it’s going to look great”.

I believed her and that’s why I set up the appointment to drop $150 on myself for once.

I arrived for my appointment yesterday and was immediately ushered to a little table where other girls were getting dye applied. I was given a robe and a mimosa. I was treated like I was at a spa. I sat, drank my mimosa, and 2 minutes later, Bonnie appeared.

“Are you excited? We are doing full, blonde highlights today. It’s going to be great. You’re going to look great.”

I was excited. I felt like I was worth it, for once.

There’s a reason I always used box color. They were fine. It was always just good enough. I sort of got the color that I was hoping for.

But you know what? I’m 31 now. “Fine” isn’t good enough. I deserve to be elated with how I look every single day.

So, Bonnie got to work. She wheeled over her little cart and I sat for an hour as she foiled my head. We took several before and during pictures on her phone and my phone.

“I’m going to need pictures of this for my Instagram. It’s going to be a big change,” She said. She kept getting me so excited for what was about to happen.

I also commented on how interesting it was to sit at a communal table with three other women, all getting dyed. It felt comfortable. And I liked not having it done in front of a mirror. I didn’t look super attractive during this process so there was no anxiety on my end about what the final outcome would be. It was refreshing; we were all just sitting there, drinking and being made up.

After the hour of foiling, Bonnie moved me to the shampoo chair and began to take out the foils.

“Am I pulling your hair? I’m sorry…”

“You are but it’s okay.”

It totally hurt but what can you do?

As she rinsed out the lightener, she got very quiet and I started getting nervous. I started thinking the bleach hadn’t worked; that my hair looked the same. That I was going to be let down.

She applied toner and shampooed me a second time and led me to her chair.

I sat down and smiled. It looked much lighter. Not as platinum as we had hoped, but definitely lighter and I was pleased.

“I’m sorry I doubted you,” I told Bonnie.

She began to blow dry my hair and stopped suddenly.

“You know…can I cut your bangs?”

“Cut them how?”

“Edgy, blunt. Straight across. It would suit you.”

“How much would that be?”

“No. I just want to cut your bangs.”

“Okay! You can do anything you want if it’s free!”

“Really? I’m going to style it too, then….”

She cut thick bangs and curled my whole head using her straightening iron.

The salon closes at 6 pm. It was now 6:11 pm.

“Bonnie, you don’t have to do this. You guys closed ten minutes ago.”

“I’m not done  yet. I don’t care.”

When she was done, I looked like a movie star. I looked like I was going somewhere special, when really I was just going home to play video games and drink a glass of wine in my sweatpants. I almost cried.

She put lipstick on me and took after pictures with her phone and posted them on her Instagram. I felt special.

Bonnie made me feel, from the first moment I sat in the chair, that it was her mission that day to make me feel good about myself. To make me feel beautiful. There was no rush, there was nothing else she would rather be doing.

I watched the other stylists move around with their own clients as I waited and they were all the same. Everyone was there for that purpose–one client at a time. No rush. Just that mission. Make us feel good.

Blo Salon in Brier Creek is expensive compared to other salons but I can tell you with my palm in the air and my hand on my heart that it is worth it. You get what you pay for. And what Bonnie Lu has gained is a loyal customer.

Thank you for making me feel beautiful, Bonnie. And thank you for hiring her, Blo Salon.



Let’s talk about this new Adele song for a second.
October 24, 2015, 11:55 pm
Filed under: Uncategorized

It’s been 24 hours since I heard this new Adele song.

I haven’t stopped losing my shit over it yet and I don’t think most people have, either.

Now, to be clear, I’m talking about the song. The video for it is terrible–

What is even happening? What’s the story?

Why are they all using flip phones?

Why is she so cold? Go inside.

Why does she keep touching her face?

Why is she so terrible at lip syncing (this is actually an okay trait to have, in my opinion)?

WHERE CAN I GET THIS COAT?

Anyway.

The song.

From the first “Hello” we all immediately got goosebumps and it’s for two reasons, people.

We have been waiting , Adele. We have been waiting for you to give birth to your mysterious but probably lovely baby and to get back to lightening our world with your voice. We have been waiting for so long.

A simple “hello” is all we need.

Also:

Can you hear it? In the first sentence? Can you hear her holding back her voice? There’s a slight tremor as she smoothly croons out the verses. She does it in such a crafted way that you know YOU KNOW it’s going to be ON when the chorus comes around.

And then, suddenly, there it is.

I didn’t even know lungs could do that.

I can’t fathom having this kind of vocal prowess. This sort of command of something deep inside of me.

And she keeps it up, the whole damn song–meticulously monotone lullaby singing and beast mode belting and it’s all just so glorious that I am still not tired of it.

GET

IT

GIRL.



From the mouths of babes
October 20, 2015, 11:03 pm
Filed under: Uncategorized

I’m withdrawing from my 900 mgs of Lithium to start a new medication. This is causing me to rapid cycle my mood disorder. If you don’t know what this means and can’t guess, Google it. It’s making life difficult. I know it will pass, but still.

Still.

Tonight, a few moments ago, I was crying in the bathroom. I had taken a bath to clear my mind from the day and found it hard to get myself out of the tub. The water had long gone cold and my Tiny Human needed to be fed. The iPad doesn’t supply dinner. Yet.

I finally peeled myself from the draining water and, as usual, burst into tears.

Tiny Human, horrifyingly enough, heard me and rushed to my side. I collapsed, wrapped in a towel, to the floor. Sobbing, now.

In front of my child.

“What’s wrong, mommy?”

“Nothing. Nothing. Go watch your show.”

“Do your miss your mommy and daddy? Do you miss your sister?”

“I don’t know. I don’t know.”

“Do you know what mommy? I know a secret?”

“What? Tell me.”

She leaned in, her tiny lips–the lips I made inside of my own body–brushing against my cheek,

“I love you. And you’re going to be okay.”



Offended and Proud Of It
October 18, 2015, 12:59 pm
Filed under: Uncategorized

You know those Some E-cards memes that flood your Facebook feed constantly? Most are funny, some apply well to your life, some you roll your eyes at? Yeah, those.

Someone posted one yesterday and it pissed me off. I’m going to tell you why.

It says, over a pastel yellow back drop:

“We should have a lot of sex this fall since my seasonal affective disorder makes it impossible for me to get out of bed.”

(oh my gosh, spell-check. affective is a word. calm down.)

I read this, winced, and commented with the simple sentence,

“Depression isn’t a joke.”

I was then attacked. ATTACKED, DEAR READERS.

There have been two different kinds of responses to my comment so far:

“I didn’t even think of depression at first. I thought of seasonal affective disorder. They aren’t the same thing.”

and

“OH MY GOSH STOP BEING SO OFFENDED BY EVERYONE. THIS IS THE YEAR OF BEING OFFENDED.”

Ok, internet. Ok.

FIRST OF ALL, S.A.D is a sub category of generalized depression. You know who told me this? GOOGLE. IMMEDIATELY. The word depression is right there. So, before you raise a banner for a disease, do the decent courtesy of typing it into your freaking smart phone.

Secondly, if being offended means being upset over a joke mocking a specific symptom that I have recently battled with, then yeah, color me offended. I’m all offended.

When did it become okay to openly make light of illnesses? Stupid people, jobs, relationships–fine. Go for it. You’re very funny and slow clap for you.

But, if this was a joke about breast cancer or MS, would it be as funny? Celiac’s? ANYTHING ELSE? Would it be okay to be offended then? I’m thinking yes.  I’m thinking the creator would be pegged as a MONSTER.

People with depression struggle. We struggle with mental symptoms you cannot even imagine. You know why that person in that stupid card can’t get out of bed? Because they want to die. Because they don’t want to deal with the outside world anymore. And good luck having sex with them all fall. They’re probably on so many medications that they have no sex drive left.

So, yes, highly educated and tolerant people of the internet. I am offended. I will always be offended when comedy just becomes ignorant bullying. I will never let it just scroll past me. I will speak up against my disease and I expect you all to do the same. Guard your weaknesses.

Because

depression

isn’t

a joke.



World Mental Health Day
October 10, 2015, 3:39 pm
Filed under: Uncategorized

It’s World Mental Health Day.

I could sit here and do my usual tirade about the suffering I endure as a person with a mental illness. I could go on and on about the medication regime I’m currently on, the side effects, the pain I feel despite being heavily medicated.

I could talk more about raising a child while struggling with this illness; about how it often impedes my ability to be a good mother. I could talk about my battle with postpartum depression. Again. 

But, you see, that’s missing the point. It’s WORLD Mental Health Day.

Doesn’t it seem silly to complain about all of those things–my medication, my support, my treatment–when places like Sudan are throwing their mentally ill in jail, shackled to the wall, because they don’t know what else to do with them?

War torn countries, naturally, breed certain mental disorders and it is a damn shame that those same countries cannot care for them. As of 2005, Iraq averaged less than 100 trained psychiatrists per region. There are more than 100 psychiatrists in Raleigh, I’m sure.

I am a 31 year old woman.

I have bipolar disorder.

I call my psychiatrist. I make an appointment. I am usually seen within a week.

I take medication. I go to Target and pay for it, using my insurance.

I’ve been to the hospital twice for depression and anxiety. I was evaluated, given medication through an IV, and offered a bed.

I was not arrested. I was not turned away. I was not beaten. 

In Ukraine, there is practically no system for medical insurance, so the ill have to foot their own bill. They also are still producing “anti-psychiatric propaganda” harking back to their Soviet days where the mentall ill were detained and abused. The few psychiatric hospitals they have are poorly funded, poorly staffed, and on average house four patients to a room.

Syria currently has two psychiatric hospitals (only accessible to people who live in the capital) and 70 psychiatrists. For 21 million people. Would you have stayed? 

So, before you say that the system has failed you, or him, or this other person you know–think about these places, and other ones around the world. These people don’t even know what the system looks like. They have never known help, or relief. They may never.

Every single person on this earth deserves access to affordable, legitimate, safe mental health.

It’s a world of laughter 

a world of tears

it’s a world of hopes

and a world of fears.

There’s so much that we share 

and it’s time we’re aware

it’s a small

world

after all.