baby love.

hey friends! sorry about deserting you for the past ten days and my lack of blogging, but i found it incredibly difficult to pull myself away from the newest member of my family to write. and it's very hard to type while holding an 8 week old baby. shocking, i know.

so. i've heard friends and family members who have kids state that the moment their eyes fell upon their baby they were instantly in love. and i always thought that was kind of a load of crap. i mean, sorry, i know its terrible, but i did. how can you love someone immediately? you don't know this person. and especially with babies, they're crying and red and covered in goo. they look like squalling aliens sent down to terrorize earth with their tiny hands and enormous wind pipes. instantaneous love, indeed.

and then i met my nephew. i hopped into the back of my brother and sister in law suv on a very frosty st louis evening and i looked into the carseat at his cute little face and i fell in love. i spent the next 30 minutes staring at him in the dark car on the drive home. courtney was nice enough to turn the dome light on after a few minutes and i got to study his precious little face. i felt my insides turning to mush as i recognized my brothers eyes and forehead on this tiny little being. i now have to rescind all of my private chortling about the "silly magical instantaneous baby love" that people feel for the tiniest residents of earth. woops.

hi brendan, i'm aunt andie. i will cuddle you now.

baby brendan and i spent the next four days getting to know each other. i discovered that he enjoys napping, preferably while laying on my chest. he is also a big fan of milk and will take down bottles like a champ. this might explain why he is an 8 week old baby in six month old clothes. following this, he enters a milk coma and more napping ensues. we played together on his activity mat, and he did his little baby dance to the music.

activity mat!

aunt andie was given a crash course in changing diapers of little boys and just barely escaped being peed on. my nephew currently has the funniest hair i've ever seen. his parents are two of the whitest people on earth, so we knew he would be nearly translucent, and he has a cap of blondish hair. his hair is fairly short and fuzzy except for a swatch that runs the back of his head, which is about two inches in length, and i swear to god, looks like a mustache. i'm fairly certain that brendan is the youngest person alive with a mullet, business on top, and party in the back, friends.

how funny is this baby mullet?

brendan enjoyed his first "friendsgiving" on sunday night when dan and courtney had a few of their friends over for a holiday dinner. he tolerated the crowd pretty well, but loudly voiced his displeasure toward the end of the evening. baby b and aunt pants escaped into his little baby room to go chill out.

on tuesday, brendan attended his first hockey game and watched his father assist his team in winning a semi finals game in their league, advancing them to the finals. go dad! we had not anticipated how frigid the rink would be and decided to swaddle the little dude in several blankets. soon enough, our little man looked like the baby jesus, all wrapped up in various cloths.

baby jesus

and aside from the cute overload that was my nephew, i so enjoyed watching my brother play hockey. it was the first time i had seen him play in about 12 years. now, friends, this is pretty significant, because andiepants was pretty much raised in a hockey rink. to be fair, i was nearly born in a hockey rink. i believe my incredibly pregnant mother attended a game on november 4th and i was born a mere two days later. you see, my father worked second shift most of my childhood, and so in the evenings, between the ages of birth and about 12, i would accompany my mother and brother to various hockey events. practices, games, you name it, i was there. its a shame i'm horrible at ice skating; i know the game of hockey so well i could have been a little phenom. watch out sidney crosby, andiepants is coming for you (hockey fans, insert laugh here).

i used to entertain myself by playing in the dirty spaces behind the stands, discovering little holes in the wall (literally) between the two ice rinks, and making friends with the other siblings of hockey players. i also became incredibly awesome at the arcade games at the rink, such as dome hockey (try and beat me, i dare you) and mortal combat, versions 1 and 2 (mileena and kitana were my favorites characters, i'm a girl, don't judge me).

so you can imagine, friends, how nostalgic i became while watching danny play hockey. and he still plays pretty damn good for an old man (ha!). following the game, dan and i had some brother/seester time and he took me to one of the classiest establishments in the st louis area, the vfw. yes, not only did my brother take me to the v, but this is not the first v he's taken me to. not that i'm complaining. i love the v! sometimes it's a bit weird being the only female in the crowd under the age 50 and weighing less than 300 pounds. i get stared at like a unicorn with boobs. but hey, i had my big brother there to protect me, and for $1.50 beers, its almost worth it.

on wednesday morning, i accompanied the family little b's 2 month check up at the doctor and yes, i did tear up when he got shots in his fat little thigh. ah! the agony! but seriously, imagine being a baby, a tiny little baby, and everythings fine and good and cool, and you're looking around this bright room and theres your mom and your dad and aunt looking at you, and this nice lady doctor comes in and plays with you, and makes faces at you and tells you how cute you are and then mom comes up close in your face and then boom! needles! in your leg! you don't even know what needles are! and where the hell is your leg? what the hell is this! oy. poor little dude.

back to the point, i had a fantastic time in st louis with my family and was really considering calling mike and letting him know that i was canning my california trip so i could stay with my tiny little love muffin. but eventually, they pried me away from the baby and i boarded the plane to los angeles. and that my friends, its a tale for another evening.

enjoy and be thankful for your last november 2010 night,
andie.

saturday in the sky.

Hey friends! Happy Monday! and yes, it is a super happy monday, because andiepants is on vacation. mmmmmm vacation. I'm traveling this week and since i don't have a laptop that has wireless internet (great christmas gift by the way... or belated andie-birthday gift.... thanksgiving-gift, etc... you get the idea), i've been carrying around one of my favorite notebooks and blogging the oldschool way. but since i can't just hold up my notebook and have all of you fine people read it, i'll be transcribing and backdating posts.
such as this lil gem that andiebrain thought up on saturday... enjoy!


Saturday November 20th, 2pm, plane in albuquerque
hola, i'm at the airport and just boarded the plane that's going to take me to see my precious lil Brendan-face. i was lucky enough to score a nice little window seat and i'm ready to sit back and enjoy my one and a half hours to Dallas (layover)....
well, not exactly. i've been working on my flight anxiety for a while now, but it still hangs out with me on plane rides. icky. i really can't put my finger on exactly what scares me about flying. of course, the whole 'dying in a horrible fiery plane crash' factors in, but i'm not convinced thats the whole shebang. i think what happened is that i had a horrible flight experience (which I will not detail here, but suffice to say, we landed fairly close to a big tornado in chicago. ah!) and now andie-body is conditioned to become anxious and scared everytime andie-butt touches a plane seat. as soon as i snuggle in 19f, i get the jitters, the heart starts racing, i get a bit shakey and slight nauseaus. super lame, indeed.


but! i'm stuffing myself into this metal tube thats about to flying through the air for the purposes of meeting mr. brendan thomas wright for the first time. ahhhh sweet baby! i'm so excited. so this is totally worth it....


Saturday November 20th, time unknown. several thousand feet in the air
::disclaimer... in my attempts to beat the anxiety monster, i decided to journal during the part that scares me the most, taking off. here's how it went... ::


taking off and scared. very scared. this is my least favorite part. the stomach jumps, the plane shimmies back and forth as we hurtle toward our chosen elevation. ahhhhhhhh. i think i'm making the nice young man sitting next to me very nervous as i clench my arm rest tight enough to break it, while my eyes roll wildly around in my head like a trusting cow being led to mcdonalds.
i hate turbulence. i hate it. and don't tell me that it's like air potholes.. its not! not when you're up this high. every bump has me convinced that this will be the bump, the shimmy, the rattle and roll that sends this bad boy down in a pile of flames. f turbulence! every time we ascend higher, my stomach takes leave of my body, and my heart finds sanctuary in my throat. why can't i just chill out? i hate hating flying....


Saturday November 20th, time still unknown, i should get a watch..., somewhere over New Mexico  
ok. we're beginning to level out and flying over some fo the most beautiful terrain i have ever seen in my life. mountains and desert as far as i can see. lush green rolling hills combine to make soft rounded mountains. and stretching out in every direction, for what seems like eternity is the desert. this is the part of flying i enjoy. and,.. that would be motion sickness setting in. be back later.




Saturday November 20th, 6pm, Dallas Fort Worth Airport, laying over.
in dallas for a layover, which seems like such a waste of time 'hey, flier, i know that you've spent a whole lot of money on this trip, and you're cranky and tired and hungry and probably anxious about launching yourself 30 thousand feet in the air, but i'm gonna need you to take a few hours and sit at this other airport for a little while, it might be on the way, it might not, but it works out better for us, so thanks.' 
jerks. 


and in my uncomfortable little seat in the terminal i'm surrounded by the funniest group of people ever witnessed. i'll try and provide you with a snapshot of my experience, clock-style: 
at 11- we have the sleeping Hispanic man who keeps waking himself up with his snorty snorts. in his excessively loud attempts to breathe while sleeping, he managed to annoy everyone around him. no bueno, senor. 


3-  the emo kid who keeps staring at me, especially as i eat my delicious caprese sandwich from au bon pain. creepy. maybe its because i wore my skinny pants today. kindred souls? i think not. they're jsut the most comfortable pants i own that i will also allow myself to be seen in public in. i think its the whole no zipper thing. anyway, sorry kid, i don't sit in my room at night listening to my chemical romance and being angsty.


1-super young navy boy in full dress uniform, complete with dress shoes so shiny i can see my reflection in them. he's adorable! for some reason i keep having this vision of him using a broom as a prop and sweeping to the beat of a show tune, as other sailors sing and dance in perfect choreography on the USS Fabulous. not to be offensive, and i'm not really sure where thats coming from, but there it is..


ugh. layovers.


Saturday November 20th, 6:45pm, tarmac
on the plane again.. sitting next to adorable year old babe. cutie! feelingless nervous this time around but we haven't started moving yet, so we'll see how it goes. can't wait to meet little b! i bought him a stuffed road runner as a gift. i was personally dissapointed to learn that they are neither purple nor animated. i'll just have to make sure i advise b to look out for anvils, and if spotted, find a coyote, fast. and here we go, plane is moving, so in the interest of perserving my caprese sandwich, notebook will be put away now.



and that's all for now friends,
enjoy your evening and be thankful,
andie.

andie 1, mountain 0.

Hola! Happy Sunday to everyone out there in internet-land. I don’t know about you, cozy Sunday night readers, but andiepants had an excellent weekend. It was the kind of weekend that feels really productive and also rejuvenates you at the same time. I have to admit, though, that more than once during this two-day mini vacation, I did feel like Frank the Tank as he was describing his weekend plans to his new college friends in the movie Old School. You remember the scene, I’m sure. But if not, let me remind you. It went a little something like this:

20 yr old college kid: “so frank, what are you doing this weekend?”

Frank the Tank: “well actually I gotta nice little weekend planned, gonna do some projects around the house, might go to home depot, I don’t know… I’m not sure  if we’ll have enough time..” [not the actual words, but you get the idea].

20 yr old college kid: …. No words…. Just gaping in horror at the thought that this is what he might become in 20 years.

That was mike and I this weekend. We kicked ass like never before on our personal “to do” lists (tangent coming up… who’s surprised? No one. By the way.. don’t you just love to do lists? I can’t get enough of them. I’m waiting for the day where I look down and see item #1 on my current to do list is “make to do list”…. Check. That will be when I recognize that I have a problem. Sometimes I think I love to do lists so much only because of the satisfaction I get from crossing off the items. Its like I’m personally insulting whatever it is I had to get done. Ha, take that, laundry!! I’ll show you whose boss, car insurance bill!! Your ass has been paid.. )

Back to the point, for those of you who are unaware, we are lucky enough to have a giant empty apartment here in the lovely southwest. I mean, yes, we have all the necessities.. bed, a couch, some stools for the island in the kitchen, etc.. but we need some ancillary furniture. You understand, a desk, a second couch, some bookshelves, blah blah blah. so every morning as andiepants had been driving to work, I had been hearing this advertisement stating that Furniture Mart was going out of business and that everything was on sale. Well, hot damn. Isn’t that convenient. Howie and I paid Furniture Mart a visit on Friday afternoon after work, expecting to find great things for us inside. Unfortunately, what we found inside was an overzealous toothless salesman who wouldn’t leave me alone long enough to actually look at anything. I spent the majority of the time I was in the store hiding behind large pieces of furniture so that he would stop badgering me. Ah! I hate that. Overzealous sales people. Leave me alone! Another thing that deeply bothered me was that none of the items had current prices on them. They just had the original sticker price with a giant X through it. Mr. No Teeth would catch me furtively glancing at a piece (I didn’t want to seem too interested in anything, and make him pounce on me again), saunter over, whip out a little calculator, punch in some numbers and declare “well, I could do this for you for [insert dollar amount here]”, like he was doing me some type of big personal favor. Thanks, Dentures. What is that about? Where did that number come from? And this got me thinking, I wonder what would make that number fluctuate. Think about it. Do you think this establishment is so organized that they have a structured equation by which he figures the price, or do you think he just types in some numbers (maybe spells “boobless” on the calculator… you remember doing that, I know you do. I did that all the time in math class. Still funny) just to seem like he’s doing something. Would the price have gone down if I flirted with him? I tried, but the vomit was rising too high in my throat, and if continued, I was worried I would have to consult a bathroom first. Conversely, would it have been a higher price if I were a dude? Questions of the universe.

I cant’ believe I wrote so long about Furniture Mart. Moving on. Suffice to say, I did not purchase anything there and only got out of Toothy McToothersons grasp by using that dreaded line “I have to check with my fiancé to see if I can buy anything.” The conservative men out here seem to respond well to that, as everyone out here knows women can’t do anything on their own. We made another attempt to furnish our new home on Saturday morning and were successful. We ended up purchasing some lovely items from a store right in Zozo by a woman that reminded us so much of Chop’s mother. She had thousands of random items packed in a warehouse, some in pristine condition, some in miserable disrepair. She would inevitably choose one of these sad souls, display it to us and declare “oh its no big deal, I can fix that, I have tools in the back, I can fix it right now, I used to do all the furniture repair all by myself in this whole place, you want to see some of my work, look at this desk, I put the legs back on..” all of this in a rambling, slightly manic rampage without taking a breath. Hey, it was better than No Teeth, so we ended up buying several pieces from her, but not before being introduced to her current boyfriend, her ex husband and being invited to her boyfriends birthday party next month. I found it particularly humorous that she made sure we understood that we had to keep the invitation and show it at the door in order to be admitted to the gathering. Is this really necessary? In a town with a population of approximately 1500 people, you’re concerned that you’re going to get outsiders coming to your party? Like people will just be driving down this obscure desert highway with its two Mexican food restaurants and three gas stations within 100 miles and think “oh wait, we should stop, I bet theres a party we can crash somewhere around here.” I’m just saying, there’s probably no reason to be strict about the invitations. Even still, I did have a minor cow when Mike threw it out today “NO! how are we going to get into Chaz’s party!?!?!”

At any rate, we spent the rest of our Saturday finding homes for our new pieces and rearranging things in the apartment. We are slowly but surely making it a lovely little home for the andie/cagg family. Then, we spent some time sanding and painting the guest fence. For all of you who are unaware, Mike and I built a fence… in our house. Come on, people. Only in new mexico. We needed a dividing wall for our guest room so that our visitors wouldn’t be creeped out by mike staring at them, so we built a six and a half foot fence to separate the guest bedroom. It is fully constructed, and had its inaugural usage when Chops and Melissa came to visit, but we haven’t yet decorated it. So we spent the evening sanding our fence, andiepants in her attempt to avoid slivers sanded her section of the fence in Mike’s mittens, ruining them in the process… whoops… who knew you couldn’t sand in mittens? At least I looked cute. After this, we painted each section a different color to correspond to our rainbow colored stairs. Happy stairs and happy fence. Seems to be a theme here in andie and cagg-land. We fell asleep to the skillful narration of David Attenborough as he led us through Blue Planet’s “Tidal” episode (if you are unaware of how much I love D. Attenborough, please refer to previous posts). 

Happy Fence!

Today brought an absolutely lovely day weather-wise. Oh, readers, I have to make mention of how much I am enjoying the climate here. Yes, we are reminded that it is the middle of November by our crisp mornings, which have been falling below freezing for the past few days. But in the afternoon, the desert sun takes the stage and catapults the temperature to about 65. woo hoo! We decided to capitalize on this beautiful Sunday and take a little stroll up a 10,000 foot mountain. Now, I must regress for just a minute, as I chronicle to you, oh sympathetic readers, how I was sorely misled.

On Friday evening, a new friend of ours stopped by to visit and while here, mentioned that he might want to go hiking this weekend. He had just been working out in the field for the majority of the week, and was feeling pretty tired, so he remarked that he would like to do something nice and easy and suggested hiking one of the peaks in our area, Nogal. He stated that it was only a 2 mi loop to the peak and that it might be a nice little afternoon excursion. This information sank into the andie-brain with a little plop. Hmm… 2 miles… I can do that… famous last words.

Fast forward to this afternoon. I suggest, hey mike why don’t we go do Nogal? It’s a beautiful day, we could use some exercise, etc etc. I couldn’t even get the sentence out of my mouth before Mike was strapping on his boots. He just heard the word “hiking” and became excited. The joy that crosses his face when he knows he is going hiking is incomparable to anything I’ve ever seen. It’s beautiful. He delightedly gets his hiking clothes on and starts filling up camelbacks and loading clif bars into our pack. I can just hear his thoughts rumbling around in mike-brain.. “hiking! She wants to go hiking! We better get going before she changes her mind! Hiking! Forest, hiking, mountains, hiking, etc etc etc.. “

Anyway, Happy Mike and I loaded up in Howie and took off up the mountain. We were lucky enough to have access to a road that got us fairly close to the summit. That’s the good news. The bad news is that this “road” and I use that term loosely, had me praying for my life with every turn. This dirt road was filled with huge rocks and holes large enough to swallow a tire or two. There were sharp switchbacks leading up the mountain, sandwiching Howie between a rocky mountain face and death. Oy. I spent the majority of the ride with my eyes clenched shut, repeating “I will not die on this mountain. I will not die on this mountain.” And this was before the hike even began.

We started off on a gentle incline, picking our way through a little forest carpeted with newly deceased leaves. The air was crisp, the sun was shining and my little hiking boots were moving andiepants swiftly toward her goal. And so it went, for about a quarter mile, until the trail abruptly went up. There’s no other way to describe it. It wasn’t “steep”, it wasn’t “difficult”, it was “up”. Crap. I didn’t sign up for “up”, but I decided to strap on my brave-pants on and continue. Soon “up” became even more difficult, if you can fathom it, and I found myself hauling andiepants up a mountain face using her hands and feet, gripping tree limbs and boulders to pull myself up to the next clearing. Ah! I thought this was an easy little day hike! Liar! Just to make things a bit more interesting, the trail was laden with evil little prickerbushythingies that kept stabbing me in the leg and gnarled tree limbs that we had to bob and weave around, like evander holyfield after a six pack. 

andiepants with Nogal in the background

a close up of our friend, Nogal.

I considered quitting… a few times.. .my legs were knotted up, my lungs were screaming and my heart felt like it was about to thump right out of the andiechest. But for some reason, I was determined that I was not going to let this damn mountain beat me. And I didn’t. it took me forever, but andiepants managed to haul her ass up 10,000 foot Nogal. And was rewarded by an amazing view. As I spun slowly in a circle, on top of the world, and took in the beauty around me, I had a thought. It felt like this experience paralleled real life in some ways. Some sections of the hike were manageable, relatively flat, or gently sloping, the trail leading us in the right direction at an easy, inviting pace. Parts of the hike were miserable, having to climb vertically up boulders, being stabbed in the leg by evil plants, and having to dodge old, angry trees. A few times I was terrified, convinced I was going to launch myself off of this mountain, or break my ankle, or have a heart attack and die…. Oh hypochrondriac andiepants. But as I pulled myself over that last crest and realized that everywhere I looked was down, that even though it was steep, and hard, and my legs hurt, and I had this toe cramp that bothered me the whole way, I did it. I didn’t let the damn mountain beat me and it was worth it. I guess what I got out of this afternoon is that life isn’t always going to be easy. Sometimes it will stick you in the leg and poke tiny holes in your favorite yoga pants with its little prickerbushythingies. But, as I discovered this afternoon, if you bust your ass and make a commitment to do something, no matter how hard it seems, it’ll get done. And it will be worth it. 

i made it!

Hey everyone, take a minute and pause from posting negative comments on facebook, worrying about all that crap you have to worry about, and check out my sweet little nephew. If this babys face doesn’t make you forget about all of the superfluous crap that’s going wrong in your life, that I’m fairly certain theres no hope for you. 

Be thankful and be happy!

Andie.

so long, twenty four.

Happy Monday! I start with a disclaimer. I had grand plans to blog on Friday and Saturday… for friday, I planned to chronicle my last day of twenty four, and provide a review on the past year of my life, and on saturday, share my thoughts on my birthday...the best laid plans, right?… I was swept away this past weekend by my fabulous fiancé and didn’t think it proper to pause in the middle of dinner and start blogging. excuse me, could we have a bigger table? i'm not sure i'm able to fit my laptop and steak on the same space. a bit rude, dont you think. So here we are on the monday after a blog-free weekend. a horror, indeed. so as to not exhaust your special eyes or brains, i've decided to bust up this literary behemoth into two parts. tonight, i'll address what should have been discussed on friday; my 24th year. stay posted for a subsequent post concerning my birthday activities. 

As some of you may know, I turned 25 this past Saturday. A whole quarter of a century of andie. Who should be so lucky? I am looking forward to this new year of my existence, but as always, before one can fully embrace the future and be ready to accept this next phase of life, one must turn backward and appreciate what has come before. So, I give to you, 24 in review.

Andiepants turned 24 on Friday, November 6^th 2009 and it was the first birthday where I was required to attend a full day of work that day. gross. further, I spent the morning of the day of my birth picking up and transporting a mattress and box spring for one of my client’s children. Friends, this was not how I envisioned spending my special day, however, I did feel good about the work I was doing. Previously, this 12 year old had been sharing a twin bed with her incredibly large mother, because they could not afford another bed, so anything I could do to help was fine by me. I ended up dropping the mattress on myself, scraping a large chunk of skin off my little foot and getting a very large and nasty birthday bruise. In the afternoon, I came back to my office to prepare for my 3pm “meeting” with my supervisor. Now, friends, Andiepants was convinced that this was not actually a supervision meeting, but a surprise birthday gathering. And I had reason to believe this, not just my because of my own abundant narcissism, but this was the running practice throughout the office. Many a surprise birthday celebration had been done this way, complete with cupcakes, fruit and office coffee. Plus, it was Friday afternoon and who doesn’t love a party on Friday afternoon? Three o’clock arrived, as it does every day, twice a day, I readied my papers, and strode into my supervisor’s office, already being able to taste the cupcakes and assorted fruit. I sat down into the chair across from my boss’s desk… and…….read her my case notes! It was really a supervision meeting! Crap! I spent the next hour discussing my caseload with my boss and being silently furious.

Once home, I relayed my disappointing story to Mike who couldn’t help but smile. It’s funny now, but then, I was very bummed. No matter! I had a party to prepare for! That night, I hosted “24’s for 24”, a celebration of my 24^th birthday complete with 24 oz cans of your favorite beverage. It was quite a success. Many friends came over to share the occasion with me and I felt loved and happy.

Twenty four continued to be a really great year for andiepants. I continued to settle into myself as an adult and naturally and happily shed my collegiate sorority girl partying persona for a more focused, mellow energy. This was the first year in which I had a full time job and actually began to make money! And believe me after counting pennies obsessively for most of my life, this came as a welcome change. Please don’t misunderstand, friends. I’m a social worker. I’m not exactly rolling in money here, but I was making enough that I didn’t have to constantly worry about every single dollar. happy times, indeed.

Twenty four also brought forth a battle of mine that I have struggled with all of my life, who has been a constant companion of mine, a continual burden on my secretly spontaneous and fun loving soul. I was deeply challenged in the winter of 2009-2010 by my anxiety disorder, which decided to not only rear its unwanted and obnoxious head, but to make my life somewhat difficult for approximately six months. Looking back, I am now appreciative of this situation, because it forced me to confront and address my anxiety, rather than just pushing it back down into the andie lock-box as I was so accustomed to. I had my first panic attack in October of 2009. As with all sufferers of anxiety and panic, I was blown away by the ferocity of my own mind. I have been trying to describe what a panic attack feels like to Mike since they began, and after nearly a year of trying, I fail to even come close to the terror that envelopes the sufferer, but I’ll again attempt to share with you, dear readers, about what my mind and body experienced.

Picture yourself driving along a road. It’s straight and flat at first, the sun is shining, your favorite music is on the radio, the birds are flying above and all is well in the world. Then, an intrusive thought pops your utopian bubble. crap. At first, your minds attempts to push down this petty worry, which is at first only as big as an annoying little bee buzzing around your positive attitude. You try to mentally swat it away, telling yourself that you’ll figure it out and not to worry too much. The little bee, who started out so cute, with its fuzzy little body and adorable antennae, becomes more aggressive and insistent, and before you know it, your tiny insect friend has become a rageful hornet, divebombing your face. You struggle onward on your little road, clamping down on this anxiety, but suddenly, the road which was once straight and peaceful, has developed a few small hills, and the clouds are gathering. The hornet antagonizes you once again, except this time, it’s a bit bigger, its buzzing is louder, its stinger is more pronounced and foreboding. Fear kicks in. Crap. This road is getting nasty, this hornet is getting huge. Suddenly, you’ve forgotten about the original worry, whatever that was, and are now overcome with fear. Rather than focusing on the source, the root of your discomfort, which is typically very manageable, you are now responding to the fear of fear, which, once you allow yourself to come to this point, is incredibly difficult to overcome. Your body responds instantaneously. The adrenaline kicks in, fast and hard, your heart is pounding away in your chest, causing dull chest pains to radiate through your chest neck and arms. Your breathing becomes uneven and forced, and as your body craves more oxygen, you start to feel dizzy and unsure of your footing. The stomach begins to turn in knots and fear, dark, murky, and overwhelming invades all of your senses. It is at this point that the hornet returns, approximately 900 feet tall, with a stinger the size of the empire state building, ready to tear your face off. It roars at you, as you desperately try to navigate the now treacherous road, filled with boulders, pot holes,  hair pin curves and coated in a slick sheet of ice. Your body is gripped in a terror that is palpable, the fear alarms going off incessantly, your heart pounding wildly and irregularly, your limbs shaky, your bladder about to unload itself, bathroom notwithstanding, and all you want to do is crawl into a hole and scream. It is at this point that you realize there is a very good possibility that you will die. Right here. That your heart will simply give out, the fear will eat you, there will be no one around to help you and that will, most definitely, die. Multiply the above paragraph by about 50 and that my friends, is a panic attack. 

I struggled on during winter and spring, trying to manage this internal monster, but having very limited success. The final straw came in June of 2010. I was conducting an individual therapy session with a 13 year old girl when all of the sudden, I felt the fear start to slide insidiously in. This had never happened at work before and before I knew it, I was in a full blown panic attack, with searing heat and pain at the center of my chest, shaking hands and legs, and a stomach that could have competed on the US gymnastics team. I invoked my fight or flight response and fled, right out of my sesion, lying and telling my client and her mother that i was in the throes of a migraine. this was one of my most embarrassing and defeating moments. 

but as with most crises, it spurred me to action. It has been almost six months since that time, and I am happy to report that I feel that I have a firm hold on my anxiety. I have worked my andie-ass off to get this under control and know that it will be an eternal process. Unfortunately, this is something that will never be cured, but can be managed so that it interferes with life no longer. 

in july 2010 i became engaged to my best friend and made the decision to move across the country with him and start a new chapter in this crazy comic book entitled "andie-life." this was really the final struggle of twenty four, summoning the courage and invoking the strength to relocate thousands of miles away from my family and friends, to concentrate on my life and the life i'm creating with my almost-husband.

at times, twenty four seemed like a very difficult year for me, but turned out to be one of the most productive years of my life, second only to those very early years of my life, when i learned how to walk, talk, doubled in size, and all of that other nonsense. The struggles endured during twenty four were necessary, as I now feel more comfortable in my own skin, imperfections and all, crooked teeth and freckle-mania, and have discovered a deep and persistent well of inner strength. and that, my friends, is the best birthday present i could ever receive. 

be thankful, 

andie.

job? what job?

I almost lost my job this week. After two months of doing a fantastic job, if i might say so myself, with the tiniest residents of new mexico, I was almost terminated (I hate that word… it makes me think that former-governor ahhhhnold will come flying around the corner and break me) due to insufferable amounts of bureaucracy and redtape. Ugh. I can talk about it now, because it didn’t happen, but I came pretty close. So close that I started considering my budget on unemployment and cobra. What a terrifying feeling, to realize that I moved two thousand miles across the country to start a new life, and a new job, and have it come thiiiiiis close to being ripped away.

It all comes down to bureaucractic nonsense, friends. One job title in new york is sufficient to do a certain job but not another job, and another title in new mexico is sufficient to do a different job but not the first. Confused yet? I certainly was and still am. My head was spinning so hard and fast it nearly popped off. But all I know is that after being hired and employed for sixty days as a school counselor in the state of new mexico, on Friday I was unceremoniously told that I was not qualified for said job and that if “we” (more like andie and andie alone without any help from anyone) did not find a resolution to this problem, I would be unemployed, post haste. There I sat, bewildered and teary-eyed as this bomb was dropped on me. Happy Friday. Have a nice weekend. Following this delightful conversation Andiepants went on a crazy rollercoaster of emotion for the next five days, chock full of meetings with HR, researching other options, crying, meeting with my principals, crying, trying not to think about it, more meetings with HR, more crying, meetings with other employees and counselors, and of course, more crying, etc.

I’d prefer not to write about the details of the almost job loss, so as not to bore you with the mundane, confusing and endless torrent of unneeded bureaucracy that is the public education department. Suffice to say that my struggle is over, a resolution has been found, and andiepants will remain employed with her tiny humans at least until the end of the year. What I’d like to write about is the feelings and realizations that occurred to me during this emotional tornado.

Jobs. How much we let them define us….Supply us with our identities…..Become our whole lives…. Take over our entire personalities until we are extensions of our profession. Most people can’t even answer the question “who are you” without mentioning or relying on their employment… “I’m a lawyer, a doctor, a social worker, a lion tamer..” insert profession here. Somehow it went from “what have you chosen as the way in which you will make money, what skill have you chosen to hone to supply your income, what do you enjoy enough to go and do for eight hours a day” to “who are you”, implying that if you lost that employment as a doctor, lawyer, astronaut, telemarketer, etc, you would somehow cease to exist. That with the elimination of your nine to five, your identity, sense of self, would crumble. And at first, that is exactly what I felt, when I received this news that my employment was in serious jeopardy. I thought to myself “what will I do? Where will I go? Who will I be?” as if the removal of my school counseling job would pull the proverbial pin on my psychic grenade somewhere in my soul and andie would implode. Ka-boom.

I slipped into a deep state of panic and self-pity. Friday was a very bleak day for me, full of a river full of tears, and many invitations for suffering. “why me” was echoing through my head like teenagers yelling expletives at the grand canyon.

And it seemed as though I went through the stages of grief. Any of you who are in the psych/social work/teaching fields, might know of Kubler-Ross’ five stages of grief. Denial was first, as it typically is, the brain fighting tooth and nail against accepting whatever unpleasant news that has just invaded its squishy territory. “Am I sure that this isn’t a bad dream? This can’t be happening. This definitely isn’t happening.” After I had my despairing, tear filled afternoon, the anger set in. How could they do this to me? After sixty days? Now they want to tell me I’m not qualified? I moved across the country and left my old job! I stomped around the apartment, fuming with resentment and bitterness. I furiously cleaned my apartment, raging against the laundry and attacking the floor with the broom.

Next came bargaining… “maybe they’ll let me keep my job until fall break… until Christmas break…. Maybe I can work part time.”… bargaining is such a humbling process. I realize now that I was in such a state of panic, fear, shame, etc, that I would have in that moment accepted far less than what I deserve or am capable of. Then we went back to depression and there were more tears. So many tears that Mike informed me that I had used my tear quota until approximately 2015 (the jokes on him, friends, because I have lots more where they came from, this well runs deep). It felt like I was drowning in shame and fear; shame because somewhere, some little part of me felt like this was my fault, that I had made an error that had caused this situation, and fear of the unknown, of what I was going to do to resolve this situation, or if it couldn’t be resolved, what I would do for employment, money, enjoyment, identity, etc…

And then finally, acceptance. Oh, acceptance. Such a beautiful thing when we can really grasp how its done but so hard to come to. And the only way I was able to come to this peaceful place was to determine and recognize what I could and could not change or control. I resolved to do everything I could about this mess, to tenaciously fight for my job as much as I could, and let go of the rest. Several things happened to get me to this place of acceptance. First, I made a step by step battle plan (and here andies ocd rears its head again, my outline was grammatically perfect, with bullets, different fonts and formats for the different sections of my arguments, and a lovely conclusion that I probably could have used in court) that I could do to fight this decision. I made a list of people to talk to and things to say. Organizing my thoughts and actions in this way made me feel like I had more control over the situation and that this was not happening TO me, but that I was a part of it.

Second, I got out and did things. Fun things. Mike and I have a running joke that whenever I get sad or upset and feel the urge to throw myself dramatically on our bed, curl into the fetal position and cry, he presents an activity for us to do “that would be more fun than crying in bed.” I typically relent, accompany Mike on whatever activity we’ve chosen and remark later that “it was fun and all, but not as fun as crying in bed.” My super fun Halloween at White Sands came into being in large part because of this mess concerning my job. My beloved almost-husband knew that if given the opportunity, I would just sit around the apartment and obsess. So he forced me (and yes I did fight him on this) to go out and have fun and forget about it for a little while. And white Sands was a perfect activity to do in the face of this mess, because it really put things in perspective. Here I was, frolicking around one of nature’s most beautiful and largest displays of natural grandeur and I’m worrying about a job? I had to reevaluate.

Lastly, and most importantly, I divorced my identity from my employment. No matter who I am employed with, no matter what I’m doing, no matter if I’m a phd teaching college psychology, or a super cute garbage lady slinging bags, I am andiepants, in all my silly, slightly neurotic, compassionate, funny, ambitious, motivated, loving, sometimes jealous, anxious, and overly cautious glory. And nothing can take that away from me. Ever. And don’t get me wrong, I am proud of all that I’ve accomplished and still aspire to go farther with my education, profession, career, etc. However, there is quite a difference between committing yourself to progressing in a certain field and letting that job dominate and define you. And I was eventually able to come out the other side of the “drama-tunnel” into the lovely land of acceptance. The most difficult part of this process was coming to a place of recognizing that even though I was going to fight as hard as I could, and even though I knew that I was right, things still might not go my way. Once I considered the very real possibility that I could lose my job, let it sink into my brain, and settle in, instead of trying to push it away and panic, it started to scare me less and less.

And the only way I was able to do this was by leaning on and accepting the support of those who love me. So a big thank you to my almost-husband. I can’t even put into words how thankful I am to have Mike, but I will keep trying nonetheless. Also, to my loving and endlessly supportive almost parents-in-law, who I know will always have my back, no matter what. I love you guys.

I also drew on the strength of my incredible father who has had to deal with some of the most challenging situations I have ever witnessed. In the interest of respecting his privacy, I won’t go into the nature of his battles, but suffice to say he has handled it with a grace, resolve, integrity and strength of character that most people only aspire to have. And I recalled the many lessons that he has taught me while facing those challenges. That jobs are just jobs. They are not who you are, they do not determine your value or worth as a person, and that by nature they are transitory things, meant to function in a continuum or progression. He also taught me to recognize and see the opportunities that could be hidden in situations that look so bleak. For example, if I were to get fired, I wouldn’t have drive an hour each way to work, I could spend more time focusing on my writing or wedding planning, I could become a world-class Mario Kart competitor, etc etc..

Most importantly, he taught me to always do the right thing, even if it seems really difficult. I know, readers, it sounds so cliché and fifth grade, but its true. On Friday, after being put through hell with this disaster, I wanted nothing more than to throw up my hands, call my principals and resign, effective yesterday. But I knew that what they were trying to do to me was wrong, and that the right thing to do would be to fight, even if it meant drawing out this painful and exhausting process. So I fought. And ultimately I won.

So here I am, still gainfully employed, but left with a bitter taste in my mouth concerning this whole debacle. However, I am still recognizing the positives of this episode, and feel more confident in myself and my abilities as a person, not just as a counselor.

Being thankful for my job today, but always being thankful for being andiepants,

Andie.