Off the hook

Don't stuff your face...
Face your stuff.

When I walked into W.eight Wat.chers in mid January I heard this phrase as part of the first meeting, and it was something that stunned me. Trust me when I tell you, it's hard to be stunned at WW meetings.
How profound is that simple statement?

For those of us who have ever had an eating problem (or addiction of any sort), this is the root of it really. Emotions make us do whacked-out things.

Over the years, I have taken an introspective approach to my addiction of choice... food. I know why I am overweight. I know what it takes to lose weight. I just choose to do it or not do it.

The last five years had taken a toll on me physically. I was down on myself.... lower than the lowest I've ever been.

FAILURE is my trigger. FAILURE makes me sad, and worse... it makes me eat. Food won't judge me like people judge me. Yes, it's the oldest excuse in the book, but it is what makes me tick.

Sure, I wanted to change... but every pregnancy loss, every failed attempt at pregnancy, every job change and shift, illness, EVERY TIME I ran into a roadblock... my body revolted against me. I morphed into my own personal speed bump.

And anyone who has ever been in this dark place knows that it's so goddamn hard to pick yourself up. Sometimes we rely on others to lift us up when we can't. In the end, the buck stops with us. The reality is just as the phrase my Dad has always lived by...

"Pull yourself up by your bootstraps and get goin'! "

Over the holidays I had an epiphany of sorts. Even IF I achieved all I wanted I would still be unhealthy in body, mind, and spirit. Let me tell you, hitting 40 was a major wake up call. I had pains I never had before. I felt slower. Things were just different.

I started to think about THE REST OF MY LIFE.

Yeah, heavy stuff.

I made pact with myself that day in January.
1. I will attempt to lead a healthier lifestyle.
2. I won't berate myself for making mistakes along the way.
3. I will nurture ME.

So, how's it been going? Even with the donor disappointment, and my work life on the verge of collapse I stuck to my pact. I feel the emotions, but I am not letting them control me. For the first time in my life.

I am treating myself well. I'm still doing WW, and happy to say as of yesterday, I've lost 30 pounds (still MANY to go.. don't get too excited).
I am walking again.
I started reading again (a pastime I gave up, until I realized how much it soothed me).
I ate an entire cheese steak last week and felt no regret (hence, did not fall off the WW "wagon").
I bought a pair of jeans in a size I have not worn in 10 years.
I made an appointment for a facial.
I now listen to music when I feel my blood pressure rising.
I let myself off the hook for my past.

And it feels good.

Moving along...

It's distressing to look at the state of my life.

From the outside in, I must look like a total hot mess. Not of Britney Spears proportion or anything, please. Despite some major setbacks, I still can appear that I have my shit together, even though I am one latte away from a major freakout.

Regarding my rant yesterday on the education issues.... I am a little calmer and have a plan D, E, and F in place. I e-mailed the Principal of said Catholic school, and fell on the sword. My Mom-in-law helped with the all-out assault, and she too contacted Ms. Principal. We found out that David is in the top three of the waiting list, and my willingness to throw down a $500 donation to the church would have helped (before decisions were made), but now is of little value.

Yeah, that freaks me out a bit. And more so when I happened to chat to the co-director of the school David is in now.. she mentioned that her nephew was just accepted to this same school. Her sister is not a parishioner. That pissed me off. Because it means that there really was no priority given to parishioners like me, and Ms. Principal chose students only on the basis of the "squeaky wheel" theory.

I was ready to mount my attack. But cooler heads prevailed, and I have resigned myself to the fact that if they don't want us, they are missing one great opportunity and a great kid. Whatever will be will be.

In the meantime, I setup some appointments with two other private schools (tomorrow, and Saturday) for a grand tour. These two schools *may* have space available, but I need to check out the atmosphere, curriculum, teachers, and most importantly the price. Both have non-refundable registration fees, but they are less than $100 each, so if I like what I see I may just register and have it in my back pocket. After all of this, I am willing to gamble $200 for some peace of mind. Otherwise I'll be a total mess until the end of the summer.

Also, for those of you who have e-mailed me on the info I was seeking on RPL testing, THANK YOU! Keep the notes coming! You guys have given me some great hints and ideas to check out. I am so grateful for this community.

Amongst all of this drama, hubby and I are also renewing our research into adoption. I've been poking around with a lot of my blogging buddies on that subject as well, so if you are in the process of adoption, I'd love to hear from you. We are still leaning towards Int'l adoption, but I'm not ruling out anything at the moment.

Lastly, a bit of more sad news..... I never have enough it seems. My Grandmother (my Dad's Mom) is gravely ill and not expected to recover. She is in the hospital (has been for the last month or so). I have a sort of unusual relationship with my Dad's parents over the years (I was never as close to them as I was with my Mom's parents). A long story for another time......
however I do wish a peaceful ending to the situation for my Grandmother, and prayers to my Grandfather that he can be strong through this. But mostly, I am thinking about my Dad. He has shouldered much of the care (and drama) over the last few years, and I know how difficult a decision he has along with my Aunts and Uncles.

Sheesh, it's only Tuesday and I feel like it should be the end of the week.

My goal for today is to take deep breaths and try to remain serene.

With everything going on, I'm still surviving.

Scared to lose

It's good to be scared. It means you still have something to lose.

I heard this quote, on of all things, the TV show Grey's Anatomy. It was so interesting, I scribbled it in the margin of a magazine on the side table as I watched the episode.

A couple days later, I saw the scribbled words as I got together all the old magazines and newspapers on recycling day. I tore off the cover with the quote on it and placed it on my desk.

I've been staring at this quote all morning and pondering why I found it so interesting.

Through many of my trials and tribulations in the last couple of years, one thing I've carried in my backpocket has been faith.

Faith that our luck would change.
Faith that better days were ahead.
Faith that my family and I can overcome the challenges that come our way.

Fear is a component of my life that comes and goes. I don't live my life in constant fear, thank goodness, but when the fear creeps up it's hard to shake. Sometimes the fear is like a vice grip, slowly squeezing the life out of you. Or a cat in a dark alley ready to pounce. But it never appears in the same way.

When I think of my life in its totality, I feel lucky. I have S. and David. I have family and friends who I love to pieces. I make a decent living. I live in a modest house and have food on the table. I laugh (mostly, lol).

My Dad always used to say to me (still does), being scared is reserved for situations of the utmost importance. Death, for example. Anything else isn't worthy of being scared about.

That's easy for him to say.

So maybe it's not about being scared that I will never have another child. Perhaps it's just the fear of losing more.


You know that old adage about "it's not the destination, it's the journey?" Well, if you don't ever make it to your destination, how many of us will live in the moment during the journey? Remember it? Cherish it?

Or even if we do get to the destination.... does it make the journey more special, or just a mish-mash of stuff that got us from Point A to Point B?

After I really thought about this phrase I kept on my desk, it dawned on me that I was scared. Scared to face the death of a dream. The dream that I can't bear to lose.

A fellow SIF blogger blogged about this topic awhile ago, about getting to the END. The last chance at catching the star you've been reaching for for so long.

Because of my (ahem) advanced maternal age, I don't have the luxury of doing IUI after IUI and gazillions of IVF attempts. It seems odd that I only went to the RE for my first visit 10 months ago, on my 39th birthday... and how quickly the urgency appeared.

The reality is I have a couple shots at this. 2 or 3 IUI's with injectibles at the most, and two (insurance covered) IVF attempts.

In four to five months, if none of this works, I could reach the end of everything.

Perhaps it's the hormones coursing though my body, but for today, I admit. I am a wee bit scared.

Shock and Awe

Where do I start?

Today has been a day of sadness and shock.

I awoke to my husband informing me that our dog, Teddi, was extremely ill. She hasn't been herself all week (something was up, she was just a shade off from her normal routine). Then last night happened. She was up all night in some sort of pain, and then, this morning she was barely able to breathe, eat, drink, or stand. S. took her to the vet this morning and they have been running tests all day. So far, the news has not been great. Cancer is very probable, and it looks very invasive. We are surprised that her decline is happening so quickly. She is almost 13 years old, a senior dog, and up till last week, she still had that spunk about her. We are now very sad that she is now suffering. Teddi will remain at the veterinary hospital overnight, and we will get the final bloodwork results tomorrow morning. We are not optimistic.

As this is going on, my boss calls to inform me that a major 'resource action' (layoff) was occurring today in my group. My heart stopped (I've been on the bad side of these actions twice in 15 years).

She then informed me that I was one of the FEW remaining employees on the team. I was not laid off, BUT we have to absorb the work. Now, if you are a regular reader to my blog, you know I am on pins and needles with this job as it is. Now the reality will be I am on my own and have no one to delegate to. Considering my company is having the best year profit-wise, I am a bit shocked that this is happening.

Actually, I've been sitting at my desk comatose for the last 3 hours mumbling incoherently and swearing.

Oh yeah, and since yesterday, I've also gotten what I might describe as, oh, my PERIOD (or something that strongly resembles AF and a new cycle). The irony, the irony. An event I've been waiting for since July. And celebrating is the least thing on my mind.

Sleepwalking

I don't know how I got here.

These words manifest themselves in the oddest of situations.

You know how you drive your car to a destination, and once you get there, you think to yourself... "Gosh, I don't even remember driving here"? That happens to me more often than I like to admit... and I know the reason... My mind is in overdrive thinking about a gazillon things, yet somehow I miraculously still get to where I'm going.

Autopilot.

Imagine if that scenario takes over in other areas. You just do what you have to to get though the day. And then you wake up and realize you've been sleepwalking though life.

I am Shelli, and I am a sleepwalker.

It became evident yesterday when I had that "how did I get here" moment.

I was drying my hair in the bathroom listening to the radio. I put on my makeup. I put on my earrings and ring, and got dressed.

I made lunch for David.

I drove him to school. I dropped him off, hung up his jacket under his cubby and set out his breakfast at the table with his friends.

I drove home, along the way stopping at Dunkin Donuts for my large coffee with just cream please.

I got home and turned on my laptop, dialed in for my 9am meeting with my boss.

And it hit me.

I didn't remember how I got to my chair. Two and a half hours of my morning routine, and I couldn't recall being mentally awake for any of it.

In the middle of my one-on-one with my manager (coincidentally a development meeting about my career)..... I blurted it out.

"I don't know if I can do this job anymore."

Wait, did I really just say that, or did I imagine it up in my head??

Nope, I said it.

My boss is a dear friend of mine. We were friends and co-workers long before she managed my team. She was a bit taken back, rightfully so. But considering what I've been though lately, she was not very surprised at all.

We continued to chat, and normally the chat always helps me set my head back on straight. The message we agreed on, "think through my feelings, reevaluate, work will always wait". But the thought of that..... it wasn't the waiting part that made me feel better.

I couldn't care less what was waiting. In fact, I wished that the work would just disappear.

After I hung up I had the worst pain in my stomach, like my heart took a nose dive to my knees. What am I thinking?? How did I get here?

And, now that I am at this crossroads of sorts, what do I do? I've always loved my work, I defined myself by my strong work ethic. So it seem very odd to say I am questioning that.

Maybe it's the role I'm in, or maybe it's just the personal stress starting to corrode away my energy, and my passion. Whatever it is, I need to figure this out. Tape some options up on a dartboard or something and fire away. I just can't be in this state of mind anymore.

I guess the first thing to do it stop sleepwalking. Because, sleepwalking whether traditional or non-traditional, is most definitely not a good thing.

In fact, it can be downright dangerous.

Fortune Telling

When I was a young girl, I was fascinated by psychics.

Not fortune tellers, tarot card readers, and the 98% of people making a living calling themselves "psychic" (and aren't by any stretch of the imagination). We are talking the real deal.

Looking back I understand why I was so interested at such a young age, and that is a story for another time. Or another blog for that matter.

Anyway, I personally knew two really outstanding psychics. I started visiting them on a whim when I first went to college.

The interesting thing about these two people was that they didn't charge an arm and a leg. Also you could tape the conversations. I was both a skeptic and a believer, and over time I became more impressed at the specific accuracy of their readings.

I saved some of those conversations. And listened to one recently (I hadn't in maybe 15 years or so). If you want a serious trip, listen to yourself on a tape from when you were 19 years old. lol.

Anyway, my favorite was Mr. Dee. He was an older man who lived in Northeast Philadelphia who was known for being the "real deal".

I think of Mr. Dee often, let me tell you why. He predicted every major life event I've had this far. Every. One.

Oh, sure. You're thinking. He probably just threw some general things at you that could happen to anyone. He researched you before you came for the reading. Psychics are just making things up as they go along.

When I visited him the first time I spoke to his assistant, and she took my first name only, and my telephone number. I was a student at the time, and gave him my dorm hall number. (No such thing as cell phones back then). No one even knew about the internet either, so Googling me was out of the question too. I had to wait 4 months for my appointment. And I was pretty intimidated when I got to his office.

He asked me to sit down, but not to speak. When it was time for my reading he asked me to extend my hand for a moment, and he touched the top. Then he sat back, sighed, and asked me if I wanted to know only positive or negative events.

I said both. His readings were free-flow. He would talk for about 25 minutes about anything that came to his mind, and then he would allow questions.

He caught my attention right off the bat when he easily recited the names of my family members, living and dead. Not initials, names.... occupations, and health issues. He warned me of my Grandmothers heart condition, and knew my Grandfather had died from a massive heart attack at the age of 59. He knew my Dad was a business owner, he knew I had one brother named after my Dad.

I was immediately blown away, and nervous. How does he know all of this by JUST my first name and my status as a student?

He also connected with a memory I kept hidden from everyone. Something that happened to me that I told no one about. I was freaked out, stunned, and keenly aware that I have met someone who wasn't bullshitting me.

Then he allowed me to ask questions. I had a paper with some notes, but that sort of went out the window in my stunned silence. So I went off the cuff, and these were a sampling of the questions, his answers, and my comments today:

Me: What kind of job will I have?
Mr. Dee: Computers. Your working life will always be around computers. You will fall into it, literally, and you will love it.
My comment today: it was 1987, and computer science wasn't even a major in my college, I graduated with a degree in Marketing/Management and back then the only computer experience I had was the ONE required Lotus 1-2-3 for DOS class. I had no interest in computers. I got my first job in a software company (curiously, Lotus Development.... ironic, no???) after a one-year failed attempt in retail by answering an ad in the paper. The rest.....is history.

Me: When will I get married?
Mr. Dee: Late twenties. It is not the boy in your life right now. You will be surprised how far you search for someone right under your nose.
My comment today:Back then, I did not want to hear this. I was 'in love' with my boyfriend back then, and we had plans to marry someday. I forgot about that comment because I hated it. I married my husband S. at the age of 27. He was my neighbor I grew up with from the age of ten. Oddly, we didn't date until I was 26.

Me: Will I have children, how many?
Mr. Dee: Much later in life. They will be all boys. Three.
My comment today: Well, you know where this is going. Call me crazy but I recall this ALL THE TIME especially with what's going on now. I have to trust that Mr. Dee didn't throw me a strike out. He's been right about everything, how can this not be true??? I wish I knew then what I know now to qualify that statement better.

I have not visited a psychic since I was 26. I think the reason I stopped was because after meeting Mr. Dee, I felt he was as close to the real thing as I would ever get. And whatever skepticism I had was gone after meeting him. I wonder if he is still around?

So, how many of you have visited a psychic in your lifetime? Did you meet any believable ones? Or do you think this is all "hogwash"? Tell me your thoughts.

Hello Doom? It's Gloom

If you knew me IRL outside of this blog, and someone asked you what kind of person I am, you would likely say that Shelli is a positive person. Anytime I am met with road blocks or negativity, I find a way around it and end up usually smiling in the end.

I've always been a person that embraces the concept of karma and if I put positive energy out into the world, positive energy will come back tenfold. This is the rule I live by, and for 39 years, it served me well.

If you are a regular reader, you'll remember I proclaimed 2006 "the bad luck" year. I started 2007 with hope abound. I think I actually said 2007 would be "my" year. Of course, looking back 2007 is turning out to be the most challenging year I have ever had thus far. In my personal life, my work life, my relationships, finances.

So, I slipped into a somewhat negative state in the last couple months. I admit it. I've been that person I used to hate most.... playing the tiny violin.... shouting at the Gods, "why meeeeeeee?"....

EXPECTING bad luck.

So what has happened since? More bad luck. It's as if the golden touch I once had is now turning everything to dust.

I said to S. about a month ago, I want to have a new front door installed. The door (builders grade from 7 years ago) is warped. I want to redo our master bath.... the shower and sink are already cracked (again, shitty builders grade materials). I want to landscape the patio we installed 4 years ago. So many home improvements, and no money to do them.

Then, the unexpected medical bills are starting to pile up from my infertility drama and the 16 or so ultrasounds, three surgeries, and endless lab work.

I joked with S. about two weeks ago, saying everything will probably start to break now... the appliances for instance. Again, we have cheap new builders grade appliances, and at 7 years of age, they are starting to wear.

So last night, I prepare a fancy chicken breast dinner. I preheat the oven. I beat out the chicken breasts, and lovingly made a handmade sauce. I put the chicken in the oven. I made a fresh cauliflower casserole. I put that in the oven. Set the timer for 35 minutes.

Timer goes off, oven is cold. So I end up throwing the chicken on the grill and decide to nuke the cauliflower. Micro doesn't work.

yeah, that figures.

I cry to hubby... and he gets frustrated. We don't want to buy new appliances yet, so we call appliance repair guy. I figure if the cost comes to more than 250-300 dollars, I'll have to just suck it up and buy a new stove and microwave.

Work has been unbearable. I actually considered talking to my manager about a leave of absence. I have been telling myself that work will resolve itself, that it will get better. I am frustrated, feeling ineffective. Taking my personal stress out of the equation, I am realizing that I hate my role at work. Even if life was rosy, work would still be dragging me down like an anchor.

It's like the world is sending me a message. What is the message? Is there a message?

Every day I try to focus on the positive, but I swear I am currently a magnet for misfortune.

And I don't like it.

It's just not me.