I Cannot

Today I just cannot breathe. Every time I try to take a deep breath, my body stops me, and I am in a constant state of quiet panic. This condition, my condition, is referred to as air hunger, which is described as, “respiratory distress marked by gasping, labored breathing or dyspnea.” I’m not hyperventilating; I’m struggling. My air hunger is caused by anxiety, and creates the ongoing and distressing feeling that I CANNOT GET ENOUGH FREAKING AIR.

Not everyone who suffers from depression and anxiety experience air hunger. Alternately, I do not have panic attacks or suicidal thoughts like others do. It’s really all just a crap shoot when it comes to these mental afflictions, and I understand that for some folks it’s very hard to decipher the differences, the idiosyncrasies, and the unique configurations of our minds. 

I'm aware that you might not understand, or that you might feel burdened by my bullshit... but if you can understand just one thing, it can be that today, I just cannot breathe. My chest and ribs hurt. I'm bloated. I am fracking exhausted. 

Dear friends, I’m not telling you about my air hunger because I want sympathy or coddling. There are others in this world in WAY worse shape than I, and in need of more help and consideration. I'm not trying to take anything away from other's suffering. No, the reason I’m sharing with you today is because, even with all my faults, flaws, and afflictions, I still have hope. I feel lucky because I can walk outside, feel the breeze on my face, see the sun in the sky, and smell the promise of summer. I am alive. I have friends. I can think, write, jump, run, and swim. I can do all of these things in spite of my ailments; and it’s up to ME to make my life one of enjoyment, not suffering.

No matter how much I feel like I cannot breathe; no matter how tired I am, I have full control over ME. Therefore:

I will laugh as much as I can.

I will love as deeply as possible.

I will be kind, even when it's hard.

I will not fake being happy, but when I can, I will BE HAPPY.

And I will damn well try to do these things every day.

Going Postal

There is a great scene in the movie The Sandlot, where Squints says, "And every summer there she is... lotioning, oiling, oiling, lotioning. I CAN'T TAKE IT ANYMORE!" It's a great expression of the inner turmoil some of us feel sometimes, and what I feel on the daily. No, I'm not hankering for Wendy Peffercorn, but I recognize how feelings can build, and continue building, until you just want to explode.

I've been explode-ready for a while now. There are times when I have such a head of steam building up that my chest is tingling and my brain is boiling. Sometimes I am so frustrated and tense that I can feel the anxiety rising up my chest and into my throat, making it next to impossible to breathe. 

Today is one of those days. 

Many of you know that I work in a "cube farm." We are basically all in one room, separated by cloth-covered walls. Most days my associates are respectful of the close quarters and monitor their voices accordingly. I myself am sometimes a culprit - I can be very loud at times, and really have to concentrate on taking it down a notch. Today is not one of those days. Today I can hear EVERYTHING; personal conversations, business meetings, and the song Thunder by Imagine Dragons for the FIFTY-SEVENTH TIME on the loudspeakers. Oh great. Now it's Piano Man. 

What in God's name am I supposed to do right now, short of ripping some unsuspecting soul's head off of their shoulders? What can I do RIGHT NOW to get out of this environment and not run screaming to Dairy Queen?

EXERCISE. 

I'm headed to the gym right now. Peace out, my brothers and sisters. If you see me there, don't be afraid... maybe just approach with caution. 

It's You: Edition Two

Continuing in my efforts to recognize those that are awesome, I give you the second installment of "It's not me, it's YOU." 

The Brian Edition!

Not all Brians are alike - some actually really suck - but I'm honored to know a couple of really exceptional ones. 

Brian Green - is a superhero. Wherever there is sadness, Brian will be there. Whenever darkness threatens, Brian will lend you his only lamp. Whenever a bicycle breaks, or a swimmer cramps, Brian will lend a helping hand. This Brian is a frickin' champ. The Green Machine, as he is fondly called, is truly someone who would lend you the shirt off his back while giving you pointers on how it should be worn for maximum warmth. Brian is, simply put, a rockstar. 

Brian Trudeau - is the greatest brother in all the land. He is the funniest, most charming, and most inclusive person; putting everyone at ease. This Brian makes funny faces, uses silly voices, likes playing board games, and loves sharing craft beer with all who enter his home. Brian T. is super passionate and throws his heart into what he loves, whether that be smoking meat, fly fishing, brewing beer, making his wife happy, or bribing his girls to play D&D. On top of all this, he sings a mean Toto. 

Brian Carroll - is a fantastic coworker, a rowdy team player, and a childlike golfer of discs. Brian swears like a craggy sea captain, doesn't take shit from anyone, and stands up for what he believes in. He is one smartass SOB, but is loved by all. Brian is a great friend - someone who is always in your corner, and always making people laugh. This Brian is especially magnificent because he acts all grouchy and tough, but has a secret gooey center. 

None of these Brians are "my" Brians. They have wives and other lives, but I'm so damned lucky to be able to spend the quality time with them that I do. I'm glad their families share these Brian gems with me (thank you Brenda, Amy, and Sarah!), and that I get to experience a small portion of what makes them so rad. So raise your glasses to these Brians (and ignore the crappy ones). Huzzah!

Franken-boobies

By now, quite a few of you know that on February 1st, I went under the knife to get a bilateral mammography (breast reduction). For some reason I feel compelled to share my experience, just in case there are some of you out there that have ever contemplated this procedure. Be warned - there may be some oversharing here, people. You decide.

I won't go into all of the details that led me to wanting this surgery - it's boring. However, I will say that I've had issues since puberty, and was wearing a G to H cup size. They don't sell those in stores, folks. My girls had gotten completely out of hand and expensive, and I was fed up. 

Today I am eight weeks post-op. Up until now it has been a pretty terrible experience. My chest was straight up Bride of Frankenstein, folks.

Here are some of the lower moments.

• The surgery is outpatient. As soon as you are up and talking, the hospital cuts you loose. Bouncing around in the car on the way home was... uncomfortable. Once the good drugs wear off, IT HURTS. Most of you have had surgery before - I have not. Did I say, IT HURTS?
• Eight days post-op I was in the emergency room. My breast had become so hard, and so swollen that I could barely function. An ultrasound showed several pockets of fluid, so I was rushed to another hospital for a second surgery to insert drain tubes.
• DRAIN TUBES SUCK. I'm talking rubbery, floppy rigatoni noodle tubes hanging from new incisions, that trailed boob juice wherever I roamed. It was horrible. The tubes were attached by one or two stitches that constantly caught on EVERYTHING. Anytime I changed my dressings, it was an exercise in pain tolerance. 
• Sweet Jesus - the swelling! Even with the tubes I was so swollen and uncomfortable.
• The tubes were removed after a week, and it was immediate pain relief. I was like a dog getting off a leash. I almost ran outside to sing in a pasture. However, now I had two open incisions that still dripped and drained. 

So here I am, eight weeks after the surgery, and I am finally pain free, other than just a little discomfort at the end of the day. Sleeping on my side (either one) is still a little hard, and a bit painful. I am still nowhere near the size my chest will be eventually, and I've still got angry skin around the incisions, and a bit of swelling. I'm having some body issues - I don't look like myself, and my boobs are weird, and it's freaking me out a little.

Do I regret it? No.

Someday I'll look back on this experience and laugh, and wonder what took me so long to take the plunge. I'm sure the memory of the pain and limitations will fade, and I will look in the mirror and see some impressively perky sport boobs.You'll know when that time comes, because I'll be running, biking, or swimming past your house will a smile on my face.

It's Not Me, It's You

I've gotten some feedback lately that has really made me think, and made me evaluate the way I speak to people, and the way that I am perceived by the general (and not so general) public. I really, really appreciate the help, although some of it was painful; but the constructive criticism allowed me to take a step back and really inspect my attitudes and how they affect others.

I thought a lot. I examined, inspected, and reflected so much, that I'm pretty sure I smelled smoke from all that hard introspection. One thing that I realized is that I talk an awful lot about myself. This blog is different, of course - it's for me to share my thoughts and adventures, in order to help others, or at the very least, make people laugh. My conversations in public are a much different story; I seem to find ways to relate every story back to me, and often use sarcasm for cover when I'm feeling nervous or challenged.

You know that old break-up line, "It's not you, it's me," right? I'm sure none of you have actually heard the line personally, or said it, but I bet you're all familiar with the premise. Well, for the rest of this entry, it's not ME, it's YOU.

It's You - Edition One:

Amy (little sis) is a powerful force of change in this world. She truly cares about people and speaks out when she feels others are being undervalued. She texts her niece and nephew to check in, and has appointed herself their very own college advisor. She loves people fiercely; in fact, she does everything fiercely, from loving, arguing, and teaching, to playing games and making ice cream. She is a bright, fierce light.

Becky (wife & BFF) is a beacon in the night. There has never been a person more steady and more steadfast than this wonder of a woman. Any time spent with Becky promises to be full of belly laughs, raunchy statements, and joyous revelations. Plus, she can do EVERYTHING and ANYTHING she puts her mind to. Seriously, she is a marvel. Becky can bring home the vegan bacon, and fry it up in a pan.

Skyler (good buddy), whether he likes it or not, is a go-to guy. He is dependable, creative, hard-working, and constructive. Skyler is the greatest girl, dog, and cat dad there ever was, and fearlessly defends the people he loves. He is entertaining; he performs daring feats, and loses stuff all the time (like his bright orange hard hat). Hilarious!

Dan (cycling marvel) is such a wonderful person. He is caring, thoughtful, and the best damn cheerleader anyone would ever want. Dan is one of those rare individuals that actually WANTS his friends to succeed, and will do anything he can to help that happen. He is the master at "dropping a line" to say hi, check in, or just tell a joke.

This is just the tip of my "It's not ME, it's YOU" iceberg. Don't worry or feel left out - you will most likely receive the spotlight in an upcoming post. I am so thankful that I'm surrounded by some of the greatest folks in the world, who all deserve the very highest accolades. I worship at your altar, all of you. Whether I show it or not, it is about YOU.

Hibernation

Much like a mighty Grizzly, I have spent much of the last two months hibernating.

 The beginning of winter is tough for me. The first snowflake, while beautiful, reminds me that the days are getting shorter, and the holidays are quickly approaching. I inevitably start thinking about less light, less kindness, and less patience; I dread Christmas and imposed time with family. For some reason, during that time of year, work is exponentially more stressful – that final push toward the end of the year is always a struggle.

So I hibernate.

Every day after work, when I should be working out, spending time with friends, or cooking dinner for my family, I tunnel under the covers on my bed and turn out the lights. I binge-watch meaningless television, start endless numbers of crochet projects, and cuddle with my dog. I read four books in December, and started a 5^th. Inevitably the house gets messier, laundry goes undone, and errands are pushed off until the next day (and then the next). The cats run out of food. The snack cupboard develops cobwebs. Cereal is the preferred dinner.

Still, I hibernate.

What is that affliction called…? Yeah, Seasonal Affective Disorder. I have that, and isn’t it so telling that the acronym is SAD?  This disorder is a type of depression that’s related to the changes in seasons. It usually begins in the fall, and continues through into the winter months, sapping energy and affecting mood.

Hence the hibernation.

There is a big change happening in my life in the next month. Everything I do from now until the beginning of February will be in preparation for the “new” me. I’ll keep you posted, but until then, please wish me luck. Send some good juju my way, and hope for the end of this perpetual winter ennui. Fingers crossed that my hibernation will soon end.