Mother Nature

Sooooooo.

I felt like writing. Should I talk about my amazing breakfast burrito I had last night? Or how excited I am to see my family for Thanksgiving? And to make these cute little turkeys with my nieces and nephews:

The best (and generally only) type of "craft" I do is an edible one. And these look very edible.

Then I remembered my blog is supposed to be about underwear. Stuff no one wants to talk about. But, you see, mother nature decides to stop by every once in awhile, and despite my best effort, ruins a pair of my beloved undies. Ugh. And no matter how much Oxy Clean you put on them, some colors are there to stay.

So what do you do with those? I'm not a hoarder. But I can't waste an *almost* perfectly good pair of panties. Solution: wad them up, put them in the corner of my undie drawer, and save them for the next time mother nature comes around. Problem solved.

I Googled this just out of curiosity. Funny what people Google. It's always comforting to know that someone else had the same stupid question, but they felt dumb enough to ask an actual person. Solution: Google it. Google doesn't get mad. It might say in a snobby voice "Didn't you mean..." if you didn't spell correctly....but still. That's the most rejection.

I stumbled upon a funny article. The dirty jokes are in the first paragraph so I suggest you skip them/not read it at all if you get offended easily.

the 5 types of period underwear

It made me laugh. Enjoy.

Thank You. Part Four?

I know there should be a part three to end the story. But I'm kind of sick of talking about it. You see, I thought it would be a good idea - that maybe I would be more validated for my decisions by talking about what happened.

For some reason I felt like I needed someone to agree there was emotional and verbal abuse throughout December and into January. Was there physical? No. There's never an excuse for it, but it opened my eyes up to how it can happen. Two people can be so toxic for each other, they stay together and that animosity escalates. Crazy what people can do to each other. What matters though is that I say it happened, even if no one else knows every single supporting story.

Ten months later, I have hindsight. I'm proud of myself for not letting that be my story for the next 5-10 years of my life. So often we sit back and let life happen to us. We let it happen and blame our circumstances, then fill our physical, spiritual, and emotional (oh don't forget mental) voids with something, anything. Substances. Habits. Food. Or more unhealthy relationships. We continue in that spiral for however long we choose.

Or....we fill it with positive choices. New hobbies. New ideas of thought. Uplifting people. Some sort of belief system that gives you hope for right now and for the future. It's different for everyone. And we may slip up, look back, and wonder if we could have done something else to change what happened. The classic words stuck in my head by therapist Fred Riley (shout out at the bottom) are: you can *should've* all over yourself. If you don't get it, say it fast. If you still don't get it, then you can ask me.

I've had my share of both the downward spiral and the upward in the past year. What matters now is I'm learning from it, and can handle anything else coming my way. Like I told my momma, the next man I end up with will either being completely amazing ... or take my house, car, and ALL of my money away.  Hahaha.

I'm not perfect. I don't have lovey-dovey feelings towards the ex. It doesn't mean I haven't forgiven him. That part is between me and the man upstairs. So unless I feel like talking about watching the video with the police, or busting out a few choice words I never had before, these are my thoughts for today:

I owe the ex a million Thank-You's.

Thank you for making me a little less trusting. I am a million times more cautious and wise when it comes to relationships.

Thank you for teaching me to listen my gut and not ignore it.

Thank you for making me more willing to speak my mind. Feisty, if you will.

Thank you for helping me to appreciate all of the healthy, trusting relationships I have in my life. Namely with my family and a handful of close friends I consider myself the luckiest girl in the world to have.

Thank you for reminding me that at the end of the day I am patient, loving, and forgiving.

Thank you for teaching me to give people a break. We all have our vice. I know I have mine.

Thank you for letting me be the lesson in your life.

Thank you for sending me on a whirlwind of even deeper lessons with myself 6 months after the fact.

Thank you for now letting me share my story in  a way that helps me heal.

Thank you for letting me learn how to get back up.

Thank you for giving me the opportunity to show just how gracious I really can be.

Thank you.

P.S. I owe so much to Fred Riley for helping me. He's an individual, family, and marriage counselor that is absolutely wonderful. And hilarious. Keep in mind you have to find a therapist you have the right "fit" with...I tried two before I started talking to Fred.

Happy Tuesday! And underwear posts will be back on after this weekend's festivities. Ragnar Relay #4...here I come.

Part deuce.

I don't really know how many parts there will be to this story. But I wanted there to be at least two, just so I could put part deuce. Yeah, I'm weird.

Ahh, so where did we leave off? Oh yes. In love. Getting married. And then things started to change.

Ben's car had been stolen, or at least he told me so. We were sharing my car. He drove me to work one uneventful December morning while it was still dark outside. I looked over and his eyes were closing...nodding off. Maybe he's just tired, I do that sometimes. Right? It happened again. Only this time the car swerved into another lane. "Babe, you're driving weird. It's scaring me." Ben immediately retaliated, "No I'm not, I'm just a little tired, I'm fine. See? I'm fine." The car swerves again. "Seriously, babe, pull over. You must be really tired or something, and it's scaring me." The tension ensued until he dropped me off. He spent the rest of the day at work - or at least that's what he told me he was going to do.

Ben picked me up that night. I notice the tank is almost on empty when it was over 1/2 full this morning. He reminds me that it needs gas. "Seriously? I just filled it up. Did you drive around a lot?" And...cue the excuse. Ben: "No, that's crazy. I just drove it to work and back. I think it needs a tune up, it's eating up so much gas it's crazy."

This part of the story probably seems pointless to you. But to me, little things like this I ignored along the way kept adding up. And adding up. Until I broke down, thought I was the crazy one, and went to see a therapist. I'm depressed, I must be. There's a lot of change and I don't know how to deal with it. Ben says I'm acting weird and unappreciative lately, it has to be me. I'm a drama queen the day after getting my wisdom teeth out because I'm not up and about. Drama queen, and crazy. I'm selfish. That one stuck with me...selfish. I never listen to him because I suggested the Corner Cafe for breakfast instead of a "diner". I always get what I want.

I'd started to be more active in church then.  I worked  a 7pm night shift on a Saturday and Ben picked me up in the morning. I planned on sleeping a few hours then going to church for an hour at 1. Setting the alarm on my phone, I told Ben he could do whatever but I was going to go. I made it a point to fall asleep with my phone in my hand so the vibration woke me up.

As soon as he thought I was asleep, Ben came into my room, took the phone out of my hand, and put it back in the kitchen. I got up a few minutes later and asked him why he did that. "What?" and he looks at me funny. I stared at him for a minute. "Why did you move my phone?" Ben put his famous baffled face on and asked me, "What are you talking about?". "You came in and took it out of my hand so I wouldn't get up for church and you wouldn't feel bad about not going." There, I said it, I put it out there. Then he points his finger in my face and tells me I'm crazy. I'm the crazy one. I imagined all of it, and he can't do anything right lately. I'm demanding. I worry too much. I'm a stress case. I'm the crazy one.

And so I let it stew in my head, that I'm the crazy one. I suggested to Ben that we go see the therapist together. Maybe it would help us learn to deal with all the changes happening. It's a lot of change, and is obviously causing some stress between us.

So much stress that I began to imagine someone was using my credit card. Several days before Christmas I noticed it gone from my wallet. I lose things all the time. I can't even find my keys when they're in my own hand, so of course I'd lose my credit card. Had Ben seen it? No, he hadn't seen it or even touched that thing in weeks. He had no idea what I was talking about. Please, Ben, if you used it, it's okay. We'll work it out, I don't care if you did, I just need to know so I don't have to report it to the police.

The next day after I noticed a few hundred dollars spent at Walgreens and Denny's. I made a facebook post about how hillbilly it is to use someone's stolen card there, then reported it to the police and the bank. All this time, Ben sat on the couch next to me and not a word came from his mouth. I tried asking him a few more times, maybe he used it and forgot to tell me. He denied every time, then proceeded to tell me I'm crazy and I always think it's his fault.

By this point, I can't even tell you how crazy I felt. Like I was asking myself, "Are you out of your mind?" Totally convinced that everything was my fault, that I have trust issues with relationships. I don't tell you about these little stories for pity - I only tell them so you can see how people are manipulated. How a good liar can make everything seem like it's your fault. Things got even more fishy - his "boss" wanting to pick things up from him at midnight on a Saturday. Work plans came up suddenly when family functions came around. This was not the man I fell in love with. I trusted that man, and this one I did not.

I felt awful even wondering if Ben took my credit card, but I couldn't shake it. The places where it was used were all in proximity to my apartment and to his. I wanted to figure it out so I could rest my weary brain. I called Wells Fargo and wrote down the times of the transactions. Then I called Walgreens to see if they had video footage...and I waited.

Three days later I received a phone call. It was Ryan, the manager at Walgreens. He thinks he has a "winner". Ben sat next to me on the couch. I remember praying that the culprit was a woman. Please, just make it be a woman so I don't even have to wonder. Ryan describes the man as "Tall....bigger build....has on some sort of plaid shirt...". That could be anyone, right? Anyone. I'm talking myself through this, and then he said it. "He's got some sort of big tattoo on the inside of his left forearm....it almost looks like a star."

Aaaaaaand pause. My heart sank. Wasn't Ben's tattoo on his right? I look over. No. Left arm. Lots of people have big stars tattooed on their forearms, don't they?

If you've endured my lengthy story-telling so far, I applaud you. There's only two more parts to the story for blogging's sake. That night, and the aftermath. The part where I get to explain my thinking process behind the actions. Coming soon: where I get to sound like a cold, heartless woman that put her fiance in jail. Haha. Fashionable green/white stripe jailbird undies:

Cruel, cruel joke. It's either that or continue to be terribly nervous about this next post. So I will just laugh until I mean it....

Calling in Sick. Part Uno.

Do you ever wake up in the morning wishing you could call in sick to life that day?

Like, "Hey, umm, God,  I'm not feeling like facing a few things today, can I just check out for a bit and come back when I'm feeling better?" 'Cause I have.

January 3rd ish, 2011:

Amy (ER nurse manager): "Hello, this is Amy."

Shelly: "Umm, hi, Amy. It's Shelly. How are you?"

Amy: "I'm doing well, how are you?"

Shelly: "Well, listen. I don't really know how to say this, but I think I'm going to need some time off. I feel kind of silly asking, and I don't want you to think I'm telling a sob story or anything, but I could probably use just the rest of the week off."

Amy: "Okay...."

Shelly: "Yeah. It's just, in a nutshell, my fiance, or ex fiance now is kind of in jail. Long story, he's addicted to oxycontin and stole my credit card and a bunch of stuff. So I really appreciate it. And I'm glad I can tell you. Thank you."

Amy: "Oh, I'm sorry...you know, things like this happen. Go ahead and take your time. Just remember not to take too much time away from work, make sure you get back into a routine of things..."

Shelly: "Oh I will. Thanks so much. I should be back next week."

Click.

Pretty sure I tried to have the same conversation with God, but it didn't go quite that way. My body tried so hard to "check out". I was spacey. Headaches. Wanted to faint every time I stood up. But there's no checking out of life.

I remember asking my Mom if I could just be in a coma for a couple of days, then wake up and I would be fine. It's called the shock stage. My body and mind were trying to make some sort of sense in what happened that whirlwind of an afternoon on December 28th. And all of December. November. October. Back to the end of September....

By that time Ben (name has been changed so I don't get sued or whatever) and I had been together 6 months, and we were in love. So much that we started talking about getting married and starting a family. At that time, Ben was talking to the LDS missionaries. I stayed out of the whole process, so I didn't feel like I was pressuring him. I had told him I'd marry him no matter what he chose.

He got baptized in October, and moved up to Utah that weekend from Las Vegas. (Note to self, never date someone from there again.) We got engaged October 30th before a Halloween party. Was I ready? Good question. Is anyone ever truly ready for that?

November ensued, and cue in the sound of a bomb slowly descending from the sky. You can ignore it while it's falling until it hits the ground, right? And things started to change.


Don't you always hear that line when someone says what went wrong in a relationship? Is it me? Is it him? Something's not right, here. We argued. We'd never argued before. Was it stress of him being baptized? Getting engaged? Moving? Yeah, that's it. It's all stress from life changes.

Fast forward a bit. I made some cupcakes at Christmas time and invited a few friends over. Ben was sitting on the couch, nodding off while everyone else was laughing. I made some comment about him needing to get his blood sugar checked. He agreed, said it's crazy how tired he gets when his blood sugar is low, even though he just had a couple cupcakes....yeah. Low blood sugar.

So all this brings you up to speed for the juicy part.

Pay Attention!

Well...err...you don't have to. Not at all. In fact, I don't even know why you're reading this post.





I know why I'm writing this, though.

Because after all the underwear is said and done, at the end of the day I have a story. And someday, it will help someone.

There are a lot of self-help books out there about addiction. Books for the addict on how to stop. Books on how to love the addict, but help yourself. Books on how to re-build a relationship with an addict. How to love the addict and hate the addiction.

But I didn't do that. I made a choice ten months ago, and now I live with it. I chose to look at the facts of the situation, listen to my rational side, and decided that I would be happier single for the rest of my life than with said addict.

This isn't a story to convince anyone of my sainthood. This is a story about self-preservation. About natural instinct. About listening to your gut, coping, and moving on. About finding some humor in a crazy situation to maintain a shred of sanity. And if I have to wear underwear on my head while talking to you in order to make you laugh, so be it.

Hopefully, at the end of this, I'll have made some valid point that no one else has had the courage to say. Maybe, just maybe, someone can find direction  and humor in a situation they're faced with from all of this.

Like I said. Everyone has their story, and I'm going to say mine. I don't care if you read it or not, but I think it's pretty interesting. Maybe I'm just a little biased.

Act I to come soon. The topic might be a bit heavier than underwear for the next few posts. Just a fair warning.

scurred.

Scurred = different way to be scared according to urbandictionary.com.

I'll admit it. I went to a therapist once upon a time. Yep, and no I'm not scared to admit that one. If you ever want to know why, that's another story. But in therapy, you quickly learn to acknowledge feelings. For me, I'd try to ignore them and then they'd come out in another way: anxiety. But now,  I just say I'm scared. Imagine the worst. Realize it's not that bad. And get over it. I'm not saying it's for everyone, it just works for me.

So now, I just admitted that I am scared about this little medical problem I have. Without divulging too much, I gain weight quickly and easily, and have a lot of symptoms that come with having too much androgen-type hormones. (The hormones that come from those little adrenal glands that sit on top of my kidneys - cortisol, aldosterone, female/male sex hormones). It's all fancy-shmancy endocrinologist type stuff. 

With moving and being put on birth control then taken off because they need to measure my hormones and yadda yadda, I'm finally artificial hormone-free x3 months and just got my results back. Nice thing is, it's not PCOS. Downer is I have to get an abdominal ultrasound. No, I'm not preggers.  Although it would be a darling baby if it had the Lucas family genes.

The ultrasound is a nice, friendly way of saying "let's make sure you don't have cancer" before they check other blood tests. Reality is, I probably don't. My DHEAS is 513, normal is around 300, and it's usually 600 or greater with a tumor. Yeah? Yeah.

Regardless, I think I have the human right to be a little scared. It's definitely a reminder of why I do what I do, and why I try to be understanding with difficult parents of my little patients. Medical things are scary. It's different from what our bodies should be doing.

It makes me a little bit more grateful to be a nurse. That I get to support the patient and family in a stressful situation for them.

Oh....and there's no underwear in this post. Sorry. Besides the fact that my adrenal glands are in relative position to the top of my undies. Happy fall!

And so it begins...

In the A.M.! I'm starting it. I don't think I've ever put this much single planning or thought into something...I mean even my nursing degree. Kidding.

Workout + six small meals planned for tomorrow. Actually, planned for the week. My fridge is stocked. My before photos are taken. I made sure to eat an extra fatty celebratory meal (Panda Express) to begin, right before I got in a bikini for the "before" pictures.  I even made some protein pancakes (see recipe below!) so I can grab them in a hurry. This. Is. Legit.

The menu tomorrow if you're curious?

1. Scrambled egg whites and a whole wheat muffin.
2. Protein shake with banana.
3. Mini chicken pizza on a whole wheat muffin made with low-fat mozzerella cheese. Topped with spinach. Cucumber slices.
4. Luna bar.
5. Repeat the pizza + cucumber. I'll be at work and need something I can heat up and eat in a hurry.
6. Protein pudding (sugar free pudding made with protein powder).

The workout? It's a 45 minute upper body outlined in intervals of intensity. I get to use my knowledge from when I attempted personal training with Gold's Gym. I guess I found out the most valuable thing about myself when I did: I am my best challenger.

When I ran the Wasatch Back this year, miss Kati made an observation - that I do best when I'm left alone. I'll just keep going and going if I don't have a distraction. This is true. Not that I don't need encouragement...I just have a mild form of "Ooh something shiny" syndrome...so if I don't have a distraction, I just keep going...and going...

The pancakes I made were interesting. Not too shabby. They definitely have a different texture. I discovered they cook very quickly, and the sooner you get them off the pan right when they are done, the better. It's because egg is a "binder". That, combined with the protein powder, can make it a little dry. But add on a dab of sugar free syrup and voila....

Protein Pancakes

1 c whole wheat pancake mix
3 scoops EAS vanilla protein
1 egg white + 1 whole egg
3 T cottage cheese
1 1/2 c water

Blend. Cook like you do a normal pancake. But like I said, they cook quickly. The underside will be totally done and it will still be runny on the top. Go ahead and flip it. Just do it.

I dabbed them with a teeny bit of smart balance spread and sugar free syrup. So if you're not a Splenda fan, add a bit of sugar free fruit spread. I'll let you know if these hold up from freezing well or not. Or if they just taste like cardboard.

Wish me luck!