¿Qué podría haber sido? / What could it have been?

“By creating an artificial environment, we're not stimulating our immune system enough. Germs are immune-stimulants. They challenge you to be prepared.” - DEEPAK CHOPRA

I've been battling a nasty cold for the past few days. It's one of those colds that's strong enough to border on "influenza"-type classification, but I refuse to be that melodramatic. I haven't had any gastrointestinal interruptions and since I braved a needle for a flu shot, I refuse to say that I have the flu. (I kid, I kid, I am by no means afraid of shots. I don't get those people at all.)

As a part of my husband's nightly Skype sessions with the folks in Santiago, they've been keenly attune to my sickly progressions. My husband broadcasts my current symptoms like my own family's tendency to talk about the weather. (I have decades worth of postcards from my grandmother describing the weather conditions in the varied places she has traveled.) Chileans love a good illness. I remember reading a guidebook somewhere that advised, "When you ask a Chilean how they are doing, do not be surprised if you get an explicit description of their ailments in return."

I've written about, and I know others have too, the Chilean tendency to think that you get a cold from walking around barefoot, not covering your mouth when in chilly air, and from lacking the proper attire to be abrigado (bundled-up). I've spent entire onces arguing with Chileans about this to watch in horror while they use the forks they had just put into their mouths to help themselves to the ensalada and put their hands all over the communal pan. But I digress.

But one thing that dawned on me tonight was the temptation that a Chilean has to attribute a current ailment to something you did or did not do, eat or drink.

"¿Qué podría haber sido?" ("What could it have been?") asked my step-daughter tonight when they found out I was still coughing up a lung and staging Niagara falls out my nose.
"Debería haber sido la piscina" ("It ought to have been the pool") my mother-in-law stated, in the background.
"Ita piensa que fue la piscina," ("Grandma thinks it was the pool") my step-daughter repeated.

Piscina?!? I thought. POOL?!? I haven't been to the pool in months! What are they talking about?

Every time that someone has a stomach ache (or worse), Chileans go through a catalog of all the items they have consumed in the prior hours in order to pinpoint, somewhat arbitrarily, what could have possibly caused their illness. One night, my step-daughter vomited all over her bathroom (hello, projectile) and the very obvious (to me) flu virus was instead blamed on my banana nut muffins, since they were the only out of the ordinary concoction that she had eaten all day. I've heard my father in law blame his irregular bowel movements on the dinners at his Free Mason Lodge (for no apparent reason I can see) and it seems like anytime anyone is sick, the first phrase they utter is "Algo me hizo mal." (Something made me sick.)

Unless someone's suffering from obvious food poisoning, I'm hesitant to blame illness on food. Unless I have mononucleosis or meningitis, I also think it's somewhat pointless to try and determine how I got sick. I'm not the bubble-girl! You just get sick sometimes. There's only so much you can do!

And this is the moment where I'm going to get all self righteous and psychoanalyze everyone (with my complete lack of credentials). I think the tendency of all people to try and pinpoint the exact food, action or behavior that makes you sick is the desire to be able to control what happens to you. In essence, control your fate. I realize this desire has its moments: I would love to cure AIDS, cancer, what have you. But I honestly think that Chileans love to blame illness on things like walking around barefoot, going to sleep with wet hair or getting the evil eye (just kidding) because those are things they can control and it helps them sleep at night knowing that as long as no patch of virgin-bare-foot-skin came in contact with floor they won't wake up with the sniffles.

My own mother is equally obsessed, but in her own gringa way. Her house boasts an arsenal of antibacterial cleaning supplies, hand sanitizers and quick-wipes. You could probably perform open heart surgery on her kitchen counter. I was never scolded for running around barefoot (except for the time I stepped on a nail and my dad had to pull it out--don't worry, my tetanus boosters were up to date) and I went to sleep many nights with wet hair. And despite our chemical warfare against germs, I still got sick an average amount.

I remember being petrified of sleeping on hotel beds because of the 20/20 exposé on how dirty those things were, and I actually went through a phase in high school where I was terrified of holding coins in my hand because of all the germs they carried around on them. I still, out of habit, open doors with my sleeve in order to avoid direct contact with my hands.

Maybe it's the same defense mechanism.

Now some experts are saying that a few germs never hurt anyone and that our love affair with sterile environments and antibiotics are creating allergic and hyper-sensitive generations. Some people are even blaming obesity of lack of a certain kind of stomach flora.

As such, I've recently been trying to "chill out" about germs. I invested in natural cleaning products and started using white vinegar instead of bleach. But the day I got sick I ate lunch without washing my hands--something I rarely do. I thought, "Oh, heck, I'm sure my stomach acid will kill what ever's on here." That day, I also went out into a windy thunderstorm wearing a t-shirt and flip-flops and got soaked watching the river in front of my apartment churn. Really playing with fire, huh? I guess no matter what culture you're from you'd think I was reckless.

Was it my dirty hands? Was it the chill? What could it have been?!?!?!?!?!

Chill out, Chileans, Mom, Mandy (me)... Sometimes you just get sick. There's nothing you can do. My own mother is proof of that. She, someone who has eaten healthy, exercised and had low cholesterol her entire life, got blindsided with a heart attack at the age of 50. There was nothing to prevent it, nothing that anyone could have possibly done to stop it. Her doctors reiterated, time and time again that it was simply a fluke, a stroke of bad luck. All that mattered was that the response was quick and she was in great shape for her recovery.

So, Deepak Chopra, you wise, wise man. You're right. Germs are tests and the only thing we can do is just be prepared. But I'm still going back to my routine of washing my hands, even if it's just a silly habit that makes me able to sleep at night.

Lights Out for Earth Hour, 2009.

I ought to do candlelight more often.

P.S. TWO boxes of tissues due to the nasty cold I'm going to blog about, later.

P.P.S. Like my finger/knee (?) in the lower right corner?

SXSW: Ok, I went.

This entry was written on March 20, 2009. It took me a while to finish it.

I took the bus downtown today to take advantage of the American Apparel Factory Sale that I heard they had going on down there, and I literally got sucked into the South by South West events. Can you believe I just happened to WANDER into an Indigo Girls show and was in the second row?



I got to see the following bands, mostly by pure luck (also got invited to a free party thrown by a friend of my neighbors) and I adored them all. Please check out the videos below!

Rumblefish Party @ The Tiniest Bar in Texas
Nico Vega:

I LOVED this band. The lead singer really reminded me of Karen O. from the Yeah Yeah Yeahs but they have their own thing going on. They have some great stuff on youtube. They are playing again at midnight and I would consider going to their second show.


Paste Magazine Party @ The Belmont
The Bridges:
Check out single "Pieces."
This band got us into the door of the Belmont. We were walking down 6th street and Lavaca toward our car and we heard this band from the street and followed it to the source. What a sweet, fresh group of women + one male drummer. I love their style and as Magdalena remarked, "They are so glamorous."

Rachel Ray Feedback Party @ Maggie Maes
On March 21, I was lucky enough to get into the Rachel Ray Feedback Music Party.
Check out the line for the food:

We missed The Thermals, who we had come to see, because we were waiting in line to get into the party. I had overslept that morning and I owe it to my neighbors who got up early and got in line and let me cut in front of them. Here I saw Bob Scheider and The Cringe perform (that's Rachel Ray's husband's band).

The Thermals @ Waterloo Park
I saw quite a few performances before this band, but I can't remember their names.

The Thermals are from Portland Oregon and have a fun, quirky lyrics with a pretty catchy sound. I particularly like this song, called "Returning to the Fold."


Perez Hilton's One Night in Austin

My SXSW experience ended with getting tickets to go to the Perez Hilton One Night in Austin Party. That evening I was sitting on our balcony when some of our neighbors mentioned that they had tickets to get into the party. My mouth dropped open, and when they saw how excited I was they offered me one of their extras. However, there was a group of us out on the balcony and we decided we all wanted to go together. We had 6 tickets and 8 people, so we made a pact that either everyone would get in or we'd all go somewhere else. Well, our friend Courtney worked some magic, and we all got in to the party. We didn't see all of it (I missed Margaret Cho and Kanye West, sadly) but I did see Solange and Natalie Portman's Shaved Head, as well as Perez himself.
Solange:

Perez:


I had great SXSW luck considering I hadn't even planned on going at all. But this is honestly just the tip of the iceberg...there were so many bands here, most playing free shows at some point. I didn't even have a wristband!

I would highly recommend making it to Austin for SXSW at some point of your lives!

Group Post: Why I Left Chile

The moment I stepped foot in Miami after moving to Santiago for a year, failing miserably at setting up a career for myself there, and bringing home my new Chilean husband, I was exhausted. Crabby even. Emotionally drained.

I'll be honest. I freaked out at a Colombian for cutting me in the customs line.

There really was no reason to freak out. We had left Santiago at 4am on a one-way flight. We had sat through a 6 hour layover in Bogotá and had another 6 hour layover overnight in Miami before taking two more flights at 6:50am. There was no hurry.

But when I saw him shamelessly cut in front of me, as we were just approaching the counter I snapped, "We don't do THAT here. THIS IS THE U.S.A.! How can you be so uncivilized?"

It honestly wasn't my voice coming out of me. I must have been momentarily possessed by a bitter American tourist demon from hell. I'm surprised I didn't end my little rant with a growl and start spewing Latin backwards.

He looked at me like I was insane. The truth was that I wasn't mad at him particularly. It wasn't him. It was the months and months of what I had once loved and then grown to hate. Despise even. That was months of frustration in general of people ripping me off, little tomato on toothpicks women pushing me out of the way in department stores, the person who pushed me out of the moving metro car when the doors popped open, the horrible pokemone tween who spit on my leg with a big black lougie... tons of bad experiences and frustrations just bottled up and spilled out of me.

He blinked a few times and motioned for me to move ahead of him. I snatched up our suitcases and barked, "C'mon O.!" I'm sure he probably mouthed, "Disculpa" to the guy as we passed.

I needed some recovery time when we definitively left Santiago for the States.

I would say that our first and foremost reason for returning to the U.S. is financial. We were pretty well-off for Chileans. Our first apartment was in Providencia, we had health care at the Clinica Alemana and we made enough money to save a bit each month. For my husband, growing up in Macul, this was really impressive. I had even been offered a job at a private Colegio that was one of those things where I'd make a decent sueldo eventually and have benefits like maternity leave. My husband had a decent job at a good company. However, we both knew that that couldn't be it.

Maybe because I graduated from a university that told us we could change the world or because my childhood dreams imagined more, to me that wasn't enough of a "career." Saying that I failed miserably was perhaps an unfair statement, but I really couldn't see myself teaching English to high schoolers for the rest of my life. The thought of taking the metro each morning at 6am just filled me with a sense of redundancy and dread that was too much to handle.

So, principally, my husband and I wanted more. We wanted to further our education and I knew that I only wanted to do that in the U.S.A. because it would be free, with scholarships. I'm already saturated with student loans and I didn't want to take on even more. Frankly, a Ph.D. from the U.S. is worth more and it would be free. My husband also wanted to get his MBA, something he had wanted to do long before he had met me.

Furthermore, while I cannot deny how helpful my husband's family was at times, there's that Chilean closeness that I found suffocating. Asphyxiating. I could not define and maintain boundaries. I felt people were constantly crossing them. Honestly, they didn't exist. And it did not help that my stepdaughter's mother proximity opened a door for constant drama. I simply decided, "I cannot be in the same country as this woman."

No matter how I spin it there are a few things I've just had to admit to myself:
I am a middle class white girl. I am used to a certain level of comfort that I could not have in Chile. I like my adorable Honda Fit car. I like that my Nintendo Wii doesn't cost twice as much as it should (as it does in Chile).
I derive a great deal of satisfaction from letting my guard down. I like being able to leave my purse on my desk at school to go to the bathroom and know that my classmates will not steal it. I like giving people the benefit of the doubt. I like being able to ring up my own items at the store because we just trust each other so much.
I like reusable grocery bags, Whole Foods and recycling.

While my husband admits that he misses his family, especially his daughter, he does not miss his country. He likes our standard of life here. We're not saying we'll never return to his country, but we admit it's not likely. Once we have established our careers and can bring his daughter here, our lives will be complete.

Last week at South by South West, I marveled at how a large, open field of drunk people were able to make a single file line for portapotties. "Does the line start here?" people would ask. "No, you go ahead. No, no, it's your turn." I smiled to myself and thought, Yes!

Ola a meus amigos do Brasil

Vou escrever um pouco em Português porque vi que tenho vários visitantes que são do Brasil. Antes, não sabia, mas agora que tenho um "Statcounter" e sei que todos os dias chega gente brasileira pra aqui.

Leio e escrevo melhor do que falo. Ainda não tenho muitas oportunidades para falar con gente. Faz poucos meses que ando estudando a lingua.

Bom, si você chega pra aqui e quer deixar um recado nos comentários, não seja tímido.

Translation:

I am going to write a bit in Portuguese because I saw that I have various visitors that are from Brazil. Before, I did not know this, but now I have a "Statcounter" and I know that every day people from Brazil come here.

I read and write better than I speak. I still don't have many opportunities to speak with people. It's only been a few months that I have been learning the language.

Well, if you come here and want to leave a message (in Portuguese) in the comments, don't be shy!

Note: También hablo español. Especialmente español chileno. Nada de "chevere" aquí, por favor.

Group Post: The Reason I Went to Chile in the First Place

Check out the others.

If you wanted to get to the bottom of the trajectory of events that eventually got me to go to Chile, you'd have to trace back a few decades. I could probably take you back centuries, but it's really not necessary. I guess it all began when two stunning young people, the son of communist Yugoslavian diplomats, and a beautiful young Chilean socialite fell in love. Or perhaps when George W. Bush was elected for the second time and cut off all study abroad trips and educational travel to Cuba. Or you could really blame it on a young woman from the depressed outskirts of Pittsburgh who decided to open her eyes and study abroad in post-Franco Spain.

But I guess Bush cutting off educational ties with Cuba in the end of 2004 was the most concrete place to start. I was a sophomore in college. A Spanish major at Cornell University.

I never really was interested in Chile. I wanted to study abroad in Cuba. That semester I had studied with a professor who had authored a book of photography depicting living spaces in communist Cuba. I was fascinated with the crumbling buildings, the mid-Century cars, the scarcity of goods. I had decided that if I really wanted to learn Spanish and at the same time really learn about politics, living in a communist country would be a complete education in the ways of the world. I had satisfied the study abroad requirements at Cornell, turned in the paperwork, and was preparing my application to study abroad in La Havana when Bush suspended all educational travel.

I was furious. Even if I had decided to be a renegade and fly in from Toronto, there would be no study abroad programs. They were all getting shut down and there was no possible way to make it work. Defeated, I worked with my study abroad counselors to find another option.

Then I looked to Spain. I had already been to Spain twice and traveled most of the country. My mom, a high school Spanish teacher had taken me on two trips when I was 13 and later when I was 16. She had been a study abroad student there right after Franco died. I had liked it very much and was interested in studying in either Madrid or Barcelona. However, it wasn't entirely working out due to my school year... I wanted to study abroad in the fall, not the spring, and wanted to be free the following may in order to participate in a summer internship in between my junior and senior years of school. The way that the Spanish semester system worked, I wouldn't be able to go in the fall without missing part of my spring semester at Cornell, and in the spring the semester wouldn't end until the following July. I began to consider Buenos Aires, because it was located in Latin America and I was mostly interested in Latin American literature.

That's when I voiced my frustrations and concerns with my best friend from high school, Magdalena. Magdalena had grown up in my hometown, but her mother was from Santiago, her dad was originally from Yugoslavia but went to high school in Chile, and her older brother had been born in Concepción. She urged me to consider Chile, her second home.

Chile, I thought. Interesting. I had read Pablo Neruda's memoirs in my Latin American history class and learned about the dictatorship. Neruda had made it sound colorful, exotic---vibrant. Suddenly it dawned on me that it might be the best option.

And talking with her that evening, I made my decision.

And that's how I ended up flying to Chile in July 2005, after spending a month living in Italy and breaking up with my long term boyfriend of six years. I remember that the night I had broken up with him on the phone I thought to myself, I will probably fall in love abroad and I was right.

I met O. in early September, 2005 and fell hard---head over heels.

So that's how it happened. It all seemed like destiny, really. I still credit Magdalena for being the reason I met O. Who knows, if she hadn't suggested Chile, if her parents hadn't met or if my mom hadn't originally studied abroad maybe my story would have been different. But that's the way history has transpired, and I wouldn't change a thing.

South by (I could care less) South West

This week is South by South West, or more commonly known as SXSW here in Austin. The city is packed to the brim. I have been waiting for days to be able to sneak into the recycling center that is just in the heart of all the traffic downtown to drop off our months accumulation of cans, lids and wine bottles but I just can't manage to wake up early enough to beat the rush.

Before I moved here I had no idea what SXSW was. I knew it involved music and film but other than that I really didn't know much else. And now that I live in Austin my knowledge hasn't really increased, either. All I know is that traffic is horrendous, everyone is in a great mood, and I'm too poor to get into any of the events and way too lazy to brave the crowds to get into the free ones.

But I don't care. It's spring, spring break and all week it's been sunny with a high of 85. The whole city is smiling, laid back, and cracking open six packs. Our neighbors all have friends in from out of town or are throwing together impromptu get togethers in the fresh air. Last night we all decided we were in the mood for Mexican food but didn't want to bother with the crowds so we all chipped in and did a little fajita cook out. After two hours we had a delicious southwestern feast and I went to bed feeling like I was going to explode.

The only thing that makes me sad is that Tori Amos is performing in La Zona Rosa and to get in you need a badge which costs about $600. I could have blown about $125 on a wrist band, but there's no guarantee to get in and I would have had to stand in line for hours. I've been a fan of Tori Amos since the 7th grade and I've only been able to see her perform once, on her Plugged '98 tour. But so is life. I still have hopes that I will bump into Tori somewhere around town this weekend, tell her how much I love her and she'll give me a little wink. I could go into the story about how I tried to meet her after the show I went to and I got pushed back behind everyone else but my Dad knew one of the bouncers and got to meet her (we were separated). He even took photos for other people. That night I cried. (I was only 14, give me a break!)

I, also, being lame, applied to get into the Perez Hilton party, but I doubt that that will happen! Haha.

But it's ok. I'm relaxed, content and loving this sun. If anybody wants to come visit me next year I think this just might be the best week for it!

Estrogenerific

These blogs really DO serve a purpose. On March 12, desperate, I sobbed into my blog about how my hormones were out of whack and my occasional migraines prevented me from taking my beloved estrogen birth control pills that have helped me so much and my great, great aunt Margaret Sanger fought so tirelessly to legalize. (I swear to god, if I get any fanatical comments about eugenics, or her being racist, on here I will delete you so fast...) Isabel, my apparent long-lost-twin, suggested that I get a second opinion. The thought had never dawned on me.

This is simple medical information, right? I had thought.

But, I decided that since my insurance covers most of an office visit to a local OB-GYN in private practice, it really didn't hurt to see another doctor.

So I called every OB-GYN office in the city covered under my insurance and got the earliest available appointment possible. With a male doctor, mind you.

And he basically told me that the whole migraine-estrogen-and stroke business is pretty much out of date and that new studies have come out recently (in the past year or two) and that the risks are not as nearly significant as they had thought.

So I left the office happy, samples of Yaz in hand!

I try not to be a medical snob and insist that going to a free university clinic is fine, that I'm young and that it shouldn't matter. But I guess there is a difference.

I always questioned whether or not it was really necessary to go to the Clinica Alemana when I lived in Chile. If it was worth the bus ride, paying more for everything. O. seemed to think it was. I sort of resented it. But maybe this is what happens. Maybe you simply do get more knowledgeable doctors in private practice. Maybe sometimes, at least for medical care, it does pay off to pay a little more.

On my way into the building, where I went for my foot, I saw my former psychiatrist getting into the elevator. I miss her a lot, because I thought she was particularly good and I don't like the new one I've been assigned to.

I thought maybe seeing her was a sign. I'm digging up her card.

Friends

Last night we had a casual get together in the form of a barbecue. We learned the art of the "asado" in Chile and realized that something about the smell of cooking meat and the warmth of the grill, partnered with a good stock of beer, makes for one of the best ways to kick back with friends.

Friends: I think that one of the biggest triumphs you can have after moving to a new place, other than being able to drive around without maps, is having a successful party with a good group of friends.

And I really feel like we have that now. We have been blessed with wonderful neighbors who have made us feel at home here since day 1, but it also makes me so happy to feel a part of my program, as well. And there's nothing better than when two groups of people you love very dearly also can get along amazingly.

I have something else to mention: I have some fabulous friends from all over the globe now: Costa Rica, Peru, Mexico, Spain, Ecuador... the list goes on and on. And these are FEMALE friends. While in Chile I seriously questioned my ability to have friendships with females who were not from my own culture and country. And it's so lovely to know that it is possible.

In any case, being at home, in my own culture, in Texas, I have tried to do a lot of things differently than I felt that they were done in Santiago while I was there. I feel like I have a fresh perspective on what it is to be away from home and making friends there. I feel like I'm learning to consciously put myself out more, knowing that sometimes it just takes that extra mile.

I loved the fact that today one of my good friends felt comfortable enough to ask me to take her to the supermarket...she has no car and needed a lot of food since we're on break. I remember so clearly what that was like just a year ago!

The best, part, too, was that last night O. laughed and smiled so much. He had such a good time. It was so lovely to see. Today we are really content.

Alternative Education

I am a firm believer in public schools. Good public schools. In fact, I went to one. A school with more than 2,500 students. We had indoor and outdoor pools, two theaters, several art classrooms, countless computer labs, it was just a really great school. In fact, it's been voted one of the best in the state of Pennsylvania. So I really am not giving up on them. One of my biggest complaints about Chile is the lack of good public schools. For me, that's a crime.

This week, however, I visited the Waldorf school here in Austin because I'm applying for a position with their summer programs. (Still waiting to hear back from them, please keep your fingers crossed because it seems like an excellent opportunity!).

I had never visited a school like this before and to be honest, I was floored.

The school is located about 15-20 minutes to the south of Austin, past the Sunset Valley Farmer's Market and where one of the major high ways turns into a country road. As I pulled into the complex I immediately got confused because it was comprised of several small buildings and I had been expecting one large building.

I made it to the main office and went through an interview. Afterward the coordinator took me on a tour of the grounds, and that's when I realized what a special place the school is. Each classroom is in its own little cabin, with paths, trees and green spaces abound. The playground had no artificial jungle gym equipment, everything was natural and made out of wood and she told me that the children are encouraged to use their imagination utilizing the natural elements to play. The library was its own cute little cabin as well. Each building has a lofty ceiling and many windows to fill the classrooms with tons of natural light.

Then, I got to see the art room, filled with easels and paints. It honestly looked like a professional artist's studio. The "handicrafts" room was a gorgeous space, the shelves brimming with beautiful skeins of natural yarn and dyes. The children learn to finger-knit in kindergarten, then move onto regular knitting, crewelwork, embroidery, and eventually learn to sew and use sewing machines by the time they finish elementary school. One of the weeks at the summer program we will visit the sheep barns they have on site and learn how to sheer the sheep, then go through the process of dyeing and spinning our own yarn!

We walked over to much more modern looking buildings, which were a full-sized, brand new gymnasium and a beautiful theater and orchestra practice rooms. The walls were all painted with the colors of the sky and sunsets, and the floors were spring board wood, which gives you such a feeling of tranquility. As we entered the theater, we listened to some of the students rehearsing a play, and she explained to me that every grade puts on its own play every year and that every student is involved. In addition to that, each student is required to learn an instrument.

As we made our way back to the main office, I saw a very large, circular tent, and heard students doing something inside. I asked what they were doing and we peered in the small plastic windows and saw a handful of people, barefoot, making sculptures in a huge pile of sand. She explained that the sophomores compete in the National Sand sculpture contest every year in Galveston, Texas and to prepare for it they haul in large quantities of real beach sand from Galveston. The students are so good at it that they aren't even allowed to compete at the amateur level anymore! After working with sand the students also learn to make sculptures with wood and marble.

I was so amazed at what a unique school this is. While I took part in many activities in high school, I never got to do so many things: art AND theater AND music, etc. I had to pick a few. It's just so nice that these things are included in the curriculum.

I know that this kind of school isn't for everyone, but I know that I would have been so happy there and it's really making me consider sending F. to a Waldorf school if she moves here because I think she would really flourish in that kind of environment, she's a very imaginative, creative, and curious little girl.

The other reason that I am literally praying that I get this job is that I would get 50% off the summer program and we would be able to enroll F while she visits us for a month in July. They told me that the summer program attracts children from all over the world and they have many students from Mexico and even some from Europe who don't always speak English so she'd be comfortable there since she's still learning. What an amazing opportunity it would be!

I know that Emma went to a Waldorf school and taught English in one in Chile. Tell me about your experience! To be honest, I felt so inspired just touring that school that if I get this job and feel compelled, I might even do a Waldorf teaching certificate program after I finish my M.A.

Crying in the Consultation Room

During one of my last visits to the pediatrician when I was 14 years old, while describing the debilitating menstrual cramps I had been experiencing, the sense of despair I felt, and the bloating and water weight that seemed to inflate me like a balloon, I broke down into a tearful mess and cried in the consultation room. When the doctor explained what was going on to my mother, they both came to the conclusion that I needed to be put on birth control pills, and ASAP.

That started my decade-long-partnership with the O.C. (oral contraceptives), which, like a wonder-superhero-pill, kept my periods light and regular, and kept all of the normal side effects of the menstrual cycle to a minimum.

However, last September, after suffering migraines sporadically for a number of years, they took me off my estrogen best friend. The "mini-pill" worked out great for 6 months. It suppressed ovulation and my period entirely. Until last December when suddenly it all started again.

I got my period in December, and then routinely every 28 days later. However, with each cycle that passed, the side effects have become more severe. The first thing I noticed was that my SSRI's were no longer working. My stable, bright mood turned into anxiety, sarcasm and even paranoia. I started crying again, for the smallest reasons. And then I would cry for no reason. I missed several days of class due to sheer inability to get out of bed.

This week has been, by far, the worst. Like clockwork, on Sunday as I went to bed I noticed that my face had broken out with gigantic, swollen acne. As I laid in bed and picked up a book, I noticed that there were several spots in my vision there in front of the page. When O. came to bed as well, I blinked several times because it appeared that part of his face was covered in shadow and that he had 4 eyes! Then, I realized that I was getting a migraine. The pain was so severe that I couldn't sleep. I tossed and turned and then watched Law and Order reruns until 3am.

When I woke up Tuesday morning, after sleeping through my classes because of the continuously persistent pain, I thought that perhaps this wasn't normal. When I could barely make it through my class because of how bloated and uncomfortable I was, I decided to call the OB-GYN. And last night I vowed to get a prescription for Yaz (the estrogen-combination pill that seemed to stop all of these problems in the first place) even if it meant I have a risk of stroke. I emotionally said to my husband, "I'd rather die of a stroke than lose a week of my life every single month to this crap!"

And that's how I wound up crying in the consultation room, a hormonal heap of tears this morning. They could tell something was wrong because when they took my pulse I was at 150. Even my blood pressure seemed high. (Hello, raging anxiety!)

I've been a total mess this week. I never meant for this blog to turn into a place where I gripe about my health problems, by the way, but each of these new experiences makes me want to talk about it in case others have the same problems.

It turns out, I'm just one of those annoying small percentages of people who get the seriously severe form of PMS. (I seriously must have some truly "unique" genes.) We're not just talking some snippy comments or chocolate cravings. It's so intense it has it's own name, called PMDD. Supposedly it's not diagnosed until after puberty (hence why I didn't know that I had it before) and combination-birth control pills prevent it. And so that's why after getting off the estrogen now in my mid-20s it's so intense.

People who have PMDD experience normal PMS times 100. People become downright suicidal. In fact, one of my best friends in high school felt such despair in the week before her period she swallowed a bottle of pills following a fight with her mother. Miraculously her mom happened to be a nurse and took her to the ER when she started vomiting uncontrollably. The bottom line is that the emotional and psychological effects of this are real.

Luckily, I haven't been having any urges to take any dramatic exits, but I do feel this general feeling of hopelessness about these symptoms ever going away without getting back on estrogen birth control. Which, right now, my doctors won't let me do! One of the first treatment options is SSRI's, so luckily I think that's kept me somewhat stable. But the SSRI's do nothing for the headaches, bloating and acne.

The acne. For me, this is the worst part. It's not just a few zits on my forehead acne. I've always had generally clear skin, with the occasional small break out. But this is completely foreign to me: deep, sore and inflamed acne that pops up on my cheeks and neck - places I've never broken out before!

Why does this happen? Like many things, they don't really know. Every woman experiences surges or certain hormones, namely testosterone, after ovulation and before menstruation. Professionals suspect that perhaps people with PMDD are more sensitive to testosterone than the average woman. O.C. with estrogen in them limit the amount of testosterone that your body produces, which is why they are the most common treatment option. But if you're me and can't take them, treatment gets a little more complicated. PMDD is also something they have noted is passed down from mother to daughter. People with PMDD are also more likely to experience mood disorders and post-postpartum depression. My own mother even opted for a hysterectomy in order to stop her symptoms of PMDD.

I assume the majority of my readers are probably on some form of estrogen birth control. I urge you to stay on it so as to prevent ever experiencing what I'm experiencing. However, if you aren't and you feel like your PMS is just unbearable, I recommend you talk to your doctor. There are options, still. For example, our plan of attack is to get me on some migraine meds, and try the Mirena IUD because it's very successful at stopping ovulation. I'm terribly nervous about an IUD, but I'm going to post to let you all know how it goes. I've also started taking a multivitamin with 80 mgs of vitamin B6 in it. Vitamin B6 is supposed to help with the symptoms of PMDD and PMS in general. And then, I'm also instructed to work out 5-6 times a week for at least 30 minutes to release some natural endorphins every day. I have noticed I feel much better following my yoga class. So much that I'm considering waking up early to do yoga in the morning in addition to the afternoon.

So, this is my latest public health announcement. And yes, I'm talking about women's issues with no disclaimer or shame. :)

More famous people...

Everyone watch "Kings" this Sunday. Michelle Benjamin (played by Allison Miller) went to my high school, too! Wow! What a small world. Good for her! Apparently we have something in our water that makes me people famous and talented :)

Just kidding.

No more excuses.

Now that my foot has healed, I got a yoga pass to take unlimited yoga classes through May. I am going 5-6 days a week and I cannot believe how much of a difference it has made for my body and mind.

I sleep so easily and soundly. I can't even describe how amazing it feels to be exhausted every night before bed and wake up in the morning, refreshed, with so much energy. Since beginning Celexa and now adding yoga I no longer have problems with insomnia. I fall asleep 10-15 minutes after my head hits the pillow and I don't wake up until my alarm goes off in the morning.

My digestion has also improved incredibly since I've started yoga. I won't get into specifics.

A few days ago, Kyle posted some old photos called "When I was fat(ter)." I was looking at them, and I, like many people, have tons of "fat(ter" photos, too. My weight has been as high as 188 lbs. and as low as 1ow as 140 lbs. Right now I'm smack dab in the middle at 160 lbs. Even at 5'7" that's still an "unhealthy" BMI. I'm happy being able to fit into size 10 jeans. But I know I could look and feel better.

Even when I danced 5 days a week I have never been a skinny-minny. But I do remember having a flat stomach and being much stronger.

Last semester, I stopped making excuses and stopped pulling out my hair. Nearly 6 months later I am seeing that change happens if you're patient and diligent. For the first time in my life, I'm tired of making excuses about my weight and my lack of exercise.

I am making it a priority. I'm plunging in, head first, and I'm not looking back.

I went to Zumba dance last night. I prefer yoga but I know I need to get my heart rate up. Yes, I was the oldest and fattest in the room. Yes, I looked ridiculous and sweated like a pig. A really bitchy undergrad eyed my legs and said to her friend, "Do I have thick ankles?" I know she was talking about mine and worried that one day she might look the same.

A few months ago (without medication) I probably would have gone to the bathroom and cried.

But instead, I laughed to myself, lifted up my chin and smiled at her sweetly. And under my breath, I said to myself, "That's why I'm here, bitch. So pipe down before I shove my "cankles" up your..."

"No vuelvo más" - Ximena Sariñana

No Vuelvo Mas


I totally love this video.