The Myth of the Rational Empath

I've written before about being an empath. Not of the supernatural variety, but of the highly sensitive, deep feeling, empathetic to a fault variety. It may be why I startle easily. It probably contributes to my over-apologizing. It absolutely causes me to feel things differently than others. And, like anything in life, it has its good parts and its bad parts. 

This is a subject I have a hard time with because I fear judgment. I want others to think that I'm strong and capable and sane, and I worry that my empathicness (is that a word? It is now!) is more likely to be seen as a weakness, something that makes me somehow less capable and less rational than others. 

And so I've put this off. I've started it again and again. Drafts have been deleted or rewritten to no avail (pretty sure I started drafting this iteration at least 3-4 weeks ago). Then I was reminded of this: 

With my semi-recent #sorrynotsorry challenge (which went well, for the record!) and the looming thoughts surrounding my own insecurities about being an empath and HSP (highly sensitive person), this tweet opened the floodgates. I still didn't write it all at once, because I'm easily distracted this time of year, but here we are getting it done (finally).

The big thing to know is that I feel things deeply. Sometimes unnecessarily so, or to my own detriment, but it's just how I've always processed emotions. And it's not always a bad thing!

It's why I enjoy putting thought and energy into giving gifts to people (even strangers - I loved being a part of Reddit's Secret Santa this season!) in hopes that it'll bring them a smile. It's why I don't really like cooking or baking for just myself because the real joy I find in it is when someone else enjoys what I've made. It's why I get weirdly attached to characters in shows, movies, and books (like when I cried because Weebo "died" in Flubber) and go through a brief mourning period when I end a particularly good series and why I like to rewatch and reread those series so I can visit those characters over and over. Whether we're lifelong friends or new acquaintances, if I feel like we've connected, then you're part of my circle - that means you have my friendship, my respect, and my loyalty (even if I don't have yours).

On the other hand, it's why when my depression starts spiraling, it often happens so quickly that I can't even recognize what's going on until it's too late. It's why the thought of my friends or family in pain makes me hurt - sometimes physically - especially when there's nothing I can do to help them or nothing I can say that will ease that pain. It's why things that may cause small amounts of anxiety in some people result in me having panic attacks (or damn near) out of the blue. When my heart breaks, it takes a long time for me to pick up the pieces, and I've probably even lost a few bits along the way. 

I wear my heart on my sleeve for all to see and, in doing so, it gets scratched, snagged, and scarred along the way. My heart is easily bruised and sometimes that can be really hard. But I believe that having my heart at the ready also means that I can more easily find great love and appreciation for even the smallest things. It often means that I don't have to dig deep to find my compassion. And though I'm not always happy about it, one rarely has to guess how I'm feeling - it's all out there to be seen, whether I like it or not. 

And I'm not sorry for any of it. I would rather feel things too severely than not at all. Numbness may seem easier, especially when things get bad; trust me, I've been there. But to experience positive emotions as strongly as I do? It's worth every sob session, every soul ache, every piece of my heart I've left behind on my path through life. 

What I AM sorry for is the lack of understanding others seem to have regarding empaths and HSPs. It's easy for people to just see that part of someone and make assumptions. People frequently have this notion that the higher one's emotions run, the less rationally they think and act. And for some empaths, maybe even the majority, it does work that way. But as with any group of people, assuming we're 'all the same' is useless at best. Being sensitive and feeling things intensely does NOT mean I am an inherently irrational person. 

Are there times I act largely based on what I feel? Of course. Are there times that my emotions - or the emotions of others - hit me so hard that I get overwhelmed? Yep, that happens, too. Nonetheless, strong feelings and a tender heart don't mean I'm incapable of thinking rationally and reasonably. Logic and emotion are not mutually exclusive, nor are they inverses of one another.  

Maybe we need to stop seeing everything as one thing or another. Maybe we can challenge the ways in which we think of people - including ourselves - so that we stop believing in limitations that don't have to exist. Maybe we can stop judging those we barely know and instead focus on learning more about them and finding who they really are.

Or, maybe I'm the exception to the rule. Maybe I'm a mythical being: The Rational Empath, she who is the veritable "riddle, wrapped in a mystery, inside an enigma." The elusive creature of great beauty and wisdom, who will bring you good luck if you catch her!

But probably not. I'm pretty easy to catch...

That Girl: Sometimes Words Are Just Words

If you've ever watched "Awkward" then you should understand the "That Girl" reference. Watching "Awkward" is the closest thing to re-living my high school years. You couldn't pay me to actually re-live my adolescence. There is no sum of money large enough for me to agree to it. (If you threatened me with the life of a loved one, then yeah, I guess I'd have no choice, but since that's not a realistic scenario, we'll just move on.) If Jenna were a real person, odds are she would grow up and feel the same. In fact, I think Jenna and I could be pretty good friends. But since she's not real, I'm thankful that I'm lucky enough to have some good friends already. Friends who were never ashamed of me, who would stand up for me, who were (and are) there for me whenever I needed them. 

If you haven't seen it, here's a brief summary:

Jenna, the main character, is a 15 year old girl who loses her virginity to a guy that is ashamed to be seen with her in public. Later that same day, she's blogging about how sometimes being a teenager makes you feel like dying (haven't we all been there?). She attempts to grab some aspirin and manages to trip, break the bottle so pills spill everywhere, bumps the hair dryer into the (full) tub, and busts herself up. Result: Everyone thinks she tried to kill herself and they keep referring to her as "that girl" who did this or that.

I can definitely draw some parallels between myself and Jenna. OK, so I didn't have sex until I was 18, and I wasn't the result of a teenage pregnancy (although my parents have been together since they were in high school). But I had some wacky friends, was less than popular, might've been a bit awkward here and there, wrote/typed up my every thought like it was my job (though I'm not nearly as witty as she is), and I was known as suicidal even though I wasn't. 

As you might know, in middle school, I wrote some kinda scary poems. Morbid? Maybe. But just words.

Then I tried to help out some friends starting an advice column and, in my infinite stupidity, wrote as if I were a girl contemplating suicide.

Again, it was a heavy topic, but it was just words.

I never had any serious suicidal thoughts until late high school, but from about age 13 on, I could just as easily have been "that girl" like Jenna. Maybe I even was. The only thing I ever remember people calling me was "the biggest crybaby at East" (I think I would rather have been "that girl"), but who knows what people said about me? 

Reality: Probably not much. 

In psychology, there are these two concepts known as the personal fable and the imaginary audience that sort of work together during adolescence to make us believe that everyone is paying attention to us and that everything we do is being scrutinized by our peers. But they're not and it's not. Most teens are too wrapped up in their own lives to give a damn about someone outside of their immediate world. There are exceptions, of course, but for the most part it's in your head. Unfortunately, that's where teenagers live: in their heads. So it's hard to get away from all those thoughts. Really, really hard.

Jenna actually manages to turn her imaginary audience into a real audience when she lets her private blog go public, which is not a move I would advise unless you're comfortable with people knowing all of your business. I only divulge here what I'm willing for the world to know about me, and while some of it is pretty personal, I'm at a point in my life where I really don't care of strangers or even acquaintances want to judge me for my thoughts or actions. And I know that my real friends won't judge me. Mock me? Maybe. But not judge me.  

So who cares what random people say about me? Or what someone might have said? Words are just word, especially when they come from someone with no real connection to your life. What someone else thinks of me doesn't have to change what I think of myself. It has taken a long time to understand that, and sometimes I still wrestle with my own opinion of myself, but in the long run it's my words that mean the most to me.

15 years old is now half of my lifetime ago. And it definitely feels like it! Well, most of the time. Sometimes I still feel that insecurity trying to creep into my brain, knocking on doors that have been closed and locked for years to keep the darkness away. I still struggle not to answer, even though I know that nothing good would come from it. Sometimes I wonder if I would be brave enough to face what's hiding in those rooms, and I wonder if I should just open the door and let the battle begin. But the real courage lies in walking past the door without even a glance, leaving the past exactly where it belongs. I might not be strong enough to fight my demons, but I'm smart enough not to let them back in.   

But How Do You REALLY Feel?

I'm going to assume that most people have asked for reassurance at some point in their lives. Asking a friend if an outfit looks good. Asking a coworker to look over something for you. Asking someone to wish you luck. It's a nice feeling to know that someone else believes in us, no matter how trivial it might seem.

But wanting reassurance from time to time is a lot different than needing constant reassurance. You know that friend or acquaintance that's always asking people things like, "We're friends, right?" or "You're sure you like hanging out with me?" The person that seems to be forever fishing for compliments or positivity; talking about how terrible her singing voice is or how he'll never find a significant other. The person that you really did like once upon a time, but all of the negativity and neediness has just gotten to be too much and you're not as sure anymore.

Yep. That's me. I am that person.

Or maybe it was me. I like to think I've grown past some of that, but I do find myself with that itch for someone to tell me I'm doing a good job or that I'm as funny as I think I am. It's a hard habit to break. And it's a possible risk factor for depression.

Ru Paul is famous for saying, "If you can't love yourself, how the hell you gonna love somebody else?" This is more like, "If you can't love yourself, how the hell is anybody else gonna love you?" 

When you have low self-esteem, believing in yourself is pretty much impossible. Or at least it felt that way to me. So I went looking for other people to believe in me. And while I loved the reassurance and praise, the positive feelings I took away never lasted. I was constantly wondering if the reassurance had been genuine. Did they really mean it, or did they say it to be nice? And for that matter, do they even really like me or are they just putting up with me? How could I know for sure?

And so I kept asking. I'm sure to a lot of people it seemed like I was purely fishing for compliments, but it was beyond that. Pardon the cliche, but it's like an addiction in some ways. You go looking for the reassurance. You get some and it feels good. So good! But only for awhile. Then you come down and you feel worse than you did before. You need MORE reassurance. So you go looking for more, and the cycle repeats. 

At a certain point, your questions become ridiculous. Even after someone has reassured you, you ask, "Are you sure? Is that how you REALLY feel?" And my bet is that gets old REALLY fast. Logic told me that if people were willingly hanging out with me, they were friends. If they confided in me, shared things with me, they were good friends. Maybe even best friends. But depression kicks logic to the curb. I would start wondering if particular friends really liked me, or if it was something else. Convenience, maybe. Or just being nice. Or maybe they needed or wanted something from me (though, I couldn't imagine what, since I thought I had nothing to offer). I thought K (yes, my "sister") was only my friend because we've known each other my whole life. I thought Bestie was just being nice to me. Hell, I even thought Hubby was just trying to be a nice guy and cheer me up when we first started dating.

Even now I struggle from time to time. It's impossible to know exactly how someone else feels about you; you can't read minds (much as you might try). Some people are going to lie or sugarcoat things. But for the most part, if you consider someone a good friend and you genuinely like them, there's a good chance the feeling is mutual. I know that my sister doesn't just put up with me. I know that Bestie is one of the best friends I've ever had. And I know that Hubby loves me to no end. I know this because it's how I feel about them. And unless they ever give me a reason to doubt that, I'm going to choose to keep believing it.

So piggybacking on my last post, if you know a habitual reassurance-seeker (or if you are one), don't assume they're just attention whores. Some of them are. It happens. But if you see some other potential symptoms of depression or low self-esteem, they may just need to be reminded that they ARE worth something. And they might need a nudge, push, or shove toward a long-term fix. You can't be there to reassure them 100% of the time, but you can be a friend 100% of the time. 

Morbid Memories

When I was maybe 5 or 6, my great grandpa died. He's the first relative I remember dying, and I wasn't all that sad. I'm ashamed to admit that I was afraid of him; my understanding is that he had Alzheimer's and spoke almost entirely in German, so I didn't understand a word he said, and he was in a wheelchair (which was completely new to me at the time). I didn't go to the funeral.

Maybe a year later (I don't know the timeline, since I was so young) my great grandma died (also my mom's family, but different side of that family). For her, I cried. My mom was so upset that she actually scolded me for crying because I hadn't cried when Great Grandpa had died. She doesn't even remember saying it, but I did stop crying. That was the first funeral I remember. We had to travel for it, and I don't remember much. It was an open casket, and I saw my great grandma one last time. Otherwise, me and my cousins were in the Curious George room at the funeral parlor, reading books and playing games. 

When my great granddaddy died (my dad's grandpa), I was a few years older. Middle school or even high school, I think. I was sad, but I hadn't known him very well since he lived in Mississippi. He was nice enough to me, though. He didn't talk much, but he let me play with a Mr. Potato Head when I visited, which I just thought was the coolest thing ever. When his wife eventually died, my parents forgot to tell me for months. They had found out while I had a sleepover, and they didn't want to upset me. I found out at dinner one night when they were talking about it in passing. She was a seriously sweet lady and I was really sad for my Grandpa since his mom and dad were both gone.

I'd been seriously lucky since then. My family was all relatively healthy and most were in the same state as me.

Fast forward. When I was 21, I was woken up one Saturday morning by my mom telling me that my Gramma (her mom) had died. I'd just visited her a week or so before, and even though she was on hospice, I was shocked. I called my best friend/pseudo-sister K and she came to pick me up and spent the day with me. I took two or three nights off of work so I could help in any way possible. I helped with the picture boards and kept my mom company. At the funeral, I bawled. The hardest part for me was when my cousin N lost it, but the most vivid memory I have is my cousin P's son asking where Great Gramma was and she told him to remember that we could only see her in pictures now.

6 years ago tomorrow, my cat died. He'd been my 13th birthday present, and though I've always been a dog person, I loved that damn cat more than anything. He was a bitch (blocked a few of my friends in the bathroom, hissed at people, bit some of them...), but he loved me. He was also a tubby tabby (22 pounds!), and probably died as a result (heart failure, maybe). Once again, I was woken up by my mom, this time to be told Zeus had died and to ask if I wanted them to do something with him or to cremate him and bring him home. I wanted him to come home. I tried to work that day, but I only made it a few hours in before I broke down and asked to go home. I had been dating Hubby for a few months at the time, and after work he drove all the way from Milwaukee to Madison to be there for me. He brought me potted flowers and if I hadn't already known he was a keeper, that sealed the deal.

Since then, I've been lucky enough to not lose any family. Friends? Yes. It's been a rough year or two for that, actually. But family was safe and sound.

Until yesterday, when my mom called to tell me that my uncle had died in a car accident. He's my uncle through marriage, but my uncle nonetheless, and I can't possibly imagine what my aunt is going through. We don't know details, nor when services will be or anything like that. Right now, it seems cold to even think about it. All I know is that our family lost someone that we hold dear, and just before Christmas at that. I know there's no good time to lose someone, but this is just shitty. 

I've experienced a decent amount of loss this year, and many others have suffered far more loss than I can possibly imagine. I can only hope that 2013 is a little kinder to those in my life. I hope it's kinder to us all.

Be thankful for your loved ones, and hold them close this time of year. Be grateful for the time you have with them and how they've touched your lives. It can be over far too quickly.

Football, Friends and Food

Nov. 18 - On Sunday, I was thankful for...

(Packers) Football season.

Since Hubby was gone hunting this weekend, it was just me and the puppers in the house. Once I got done with homework, there were few options for things to do. I took a nap. I played on the PS3. I read. I played with my puzzle. 

I got bored.

And then it was time for football. Hallelujah! 

Football season doesn't just get me through the day when Hubby's gone; it's a family affair at our house when he's home. The three of us (yes, that includes Maxine) wear our jerseys, grab some snacks, and curl up on the couch to cheer on the Packers whenever they play. It's one of my favorite family activities, and it even comes with its own traditions (like double high fives for touch downs, a tradition I learned from my parents). A win means a good week ahead; a loss means grumbling, outrage, and moments of panic (unless we're already doing terribly, in which case, not really any need for panic). I always hope that we'll make it to the post-season, not just for the glory, but also because it means a longer football season! :)

As long the Packers are playing, I am thankful for football season. When they aren't playing... well, there's only so many months until spring training for baseball! ;)

Nov. 19 - Yesterday, I was thankful for...

My friends.

Normally I would write a long, gushy post about how much my friends mean to me and how they're always around when I need them, blah blah blah. But instead, I'm going to keep this shorter and more to the point.

I'm thankful that my friends understand what I brat I can be, and don't hold it against me that I don't make phone calls and prefer to talk online or in person. I'm thankful that my friends make me laugh and let me cry. I'm thankful that they're as weird as I am and don't get scared off when I say something crazy. I'm thankful that my friends are all different and that I can learn so many things from each of them. 

Mostly, though, I'm thankful for who they are and how they make me feel like a better person, just by having them in my life. Thanks to you all. <3

Nov. 20 - Today I am thankful for...

Food.

If you know me, you know I love food. (You don't get this physique from not loving food.) And what's not to love? It keeps us alive, happy and (somewhat) healthy. And not everyone has access to it like I'm fortunate enough to. Too frequently I take for granted that I don't have to worry about where my next meal will come from or when I'll be able to get food again. 

Preparing food can be a lot of fun, and so can shopping for it (I always grocery shop with Hubby, and we make it fun). Going out to eat, ordering in, carrying out, or making it yourself all have different benefits and are all different ways to experience food. We have it at celebrations, we have it when mourning. It can calm our stomachs, or make us think we'll never eat again (you know, when you feel like Violet from Willy Wonka and someone damn near has to roll you out of the room). We have favorites, and we have things we won't touch with a 10-foot pole. The options are seemingly endless, and finding a perfect pairing or an unexpected new favorite makes our mouths, minds, and stomachs happy campers.

So, for all that (and more reasons, I'm sure), I am thankful for food. Om nom nom!

No Closure Here

Closure.  Blech.

So, if you've read my more recent posts, you'll know that I had a not-so grand online relationship (to say the very least).  They weren't all bad, though.  

For example, my friend DS who recently died.  I met him online, and we were pretty good friends for awhile there.  We hung out, watched movies, drove around.  I miss him, but we weren't ever super close.  Don't take that to mean I don't care.  I do.  I'm just stating a fact.  We were definitely friends, and he was good for talking to and advice, as well as a good time, but we weren't the kind of friends who hugged or who cried together, we never had terribly deep conversations, none of the things that make someone a close friend.

But there was another online friend who was a close friend.  For the sake of this post, I'll call him Q.

In my freshman/sophomore year of college, as we've discovered, I lived online.  Chat rooms, forums, dating sites, LiveJournal...  You name it and I probably had an account.  One site in particular that I loved was OKCupid.  I wound up meeting a few local guys through their site, but the meetings never went beyond a first date or an initial meet up.

Then one day (a few months before I turned 20) I got a message from some guy in Minnesota (Q).  My screen name was faygokid, and he asked if I liked Faygo.  Well, trying to be the cool kid that I never was, I said yes and started asking if he was a Juggalo (I know, I know...).  He most definitely wasn't, he just liked the pop (for those who don't know, it's effing cheap and tasty), but somehow we kept messaging.  

Through a lot of guessing and mind games, I finally got to know him.  Q was a college student and was about a year or two younger than I was.  He was an absolute music snob, wore skinny jeans before it was cool, and knew off the bat that he'd never date someone like me.  I think that's what made our friendship work so well.  We both knew it would never be more than that.

After a few weeks of talking nonstop online, we moved to the phone and talked for hours at a time.  Q and I both had some emotional damage and mental illness issues, and that was another reason we clung to each other.  He was the first person I had openly spoken to about cutting and burning who I thought actually understood.  We talked through our demons together on more than one occasion, and this fast, intense friendship just kind of happened.

A few months later things were less intense, but we still spoke on a regular basis. A few months after that is when I ended my first attempt at college and went back home to get a job.  He would call me randomly at night.  We'd talk for hours and then I wouldn't hear from him again for weeks.  That was just how we were.

I went to visit him the summer I turned 21.  I had gotten a hand-me-down car for my birthday, and my first big trip was up to Minneapolis.  I ended up getting lost because the address he'd given me had left out that it was S whatever street and I wound up at N whatever street.  I had to call him and have him figure out where in the world I was and how to get to him.  I was nervous as he helped me park where I needed to and walked me up to his apartment.  But somehow, once I got into his room, everything felt fine.  It's not like Q was the kind of person to put you at ease; quite the opposite.  He was always judging and criticizing.  But something felt right about being there.  

That first trip, I spent 90% of the weekend in his room.  The only times we left were to get food, for me to grab a smoke (which he hated), or for a quick trip to the video game store.  Otherwise, we stayed curled up together, listening to music or watching shows on his laptop.  It wasn't really a sexual thing, just a comfort thing.  We just needed to be close to one another.  

I made a second trip up to see him about 6 months later.  He was actually nice enough to take me out to dinner one of the nights I was there and put up with me taking an obnoxious number of pictures.  We still spent a lot of the weekend laying around together, but it wasn't quite as intense as that first meeting.  

That was about 6 years ago, and I haven't seen him since.  Every few months or so I would get a late-night phone call from him, and we'd talk like we used to, but things were different.  His on/off girlfriend didn't want him to talk to me, so he could only call when she wasn't around.  At a certain point, the calls stopped altogether.

I think about him frequently.  Not obsessively, but I do wonder about him, and I miss talking to him for hours.  A few weeks ago, I did some of my best Facebook stalking and found him, but he didn't return my message.  I'm guessing it has to do with his wife (he appears to be married to her now), but maybe he just has no interest in talking to me again.

I wish I knew.  I wish I had some kind of closure so I could acknowledge that our friendship has passed.  It would suck, sure, but at least I could look back and think about the insane and intense friendship we had instead of wondering if we'll ever speak again or if he remembers me as fondly as I remember him.  

Closure.  I kind of hate that word.  Maybe that's because it's so hard to come across and because I want it so badly.  Maybe it's because I'm scared of what it would bring.  Either way, I don't think I'll be getting it anytime soon.

Love and miss you, Q. 

The Follow Up

Well, I'd say I've been missing quite long enough.  Here I am.  Bask in my... here-ness?

So, I wrote these pretty heavy/serious/unhappy posts and then I disappeared.  What gives?  It took a lot out of me to write all of that, and I guess I just needed a break before coming back to explain.

I have 3 main reasons for writing those posts.  The first is completely selfish: it was therapeutic.  My closer friends already knew most of what I went through (or, at least the parts they were around for), but I haven't talked much about any of it in a long time.  When something like that sits inside of you, it feels kind of like a bowling ball sitting in your stomach.  (OK, maybe something smaller, but you get my point.)  Writing about it and getting it all out there felt so good.

The second reason (slightly less selfish) is to share my gratitude.  I was (and still am!) lucky to have people in my life who loved me and cared enough about me to take some action.  Not everyone is so lucky, and I'm utterly grateful to everyone who has touched - and saved - my life.  Without some of you, I couldn't have become who I am today.

The third reason is (I hope) the least selfish and most important.  There are people out there with stories like mine who should know that they aren't alone and that it can get better.  It doesn't happen overnight, and it doesn't happen without some effort, but it can happen.

If my story can touch one person, I've achieved more than I could ever hope for.  My pursuit of a degree in Psychology isn't just because I find it interesting, but because I want to use it to change a world.  Not necessarily the world, but a world.  

What's the difference?  The world is a big freakin' place.  It's a whole planet.  With billions upon billions of people, each with his own issues, worries, dreams, regrets, and everything else.  A world is much smaller, more personal.  My world, for example, encompasses me, my friends and family, and the things I cherish most in life.  Many people have helped change my world, and in return, I want to help change some other world.

Maybe I'll help change one person's world.  Maybe I'll help change a community's world.  Maybe I truly will help change THE world.  The best I can do is try.

So with these posts begins an epic journey to change things, one world at a time.  If I've changed your world, thank you.  Thank you for letting me in, thank you for believing in yourself, and thank you for being you.  And if I haven't changed your world, I know someone else out there has.  Be sure to thank them, please. :)

Have a beautiful Memorial Day weekend, lovelies! <3

Riki's History Part 5: Living & Loving

I won't pretend that things were smooth sailing after the "Shane" incident.  I dated a few guys (using the term "dated" pretty loosely here) between fall 2005 and summer 2006.  Remember the old friend from my middle school days who would later introduce me to my husband?  Yeah, I was "dating" him when I met Hubby for the first time (six years ago this month... wow!). 

Hubby and I started dating in September of that year, and things were (usually) great.  He treated me like a queen, and I loved every second of it.  In early 2008, we got an apartment together, about an hour and a half away from where I had grown up and lived for my entire life.  I had very few friends out here, and Hubby had lots of them.  I would get lonely, feel unwanted, and cry.  It sort of sucked.

There was one time when I dropped the box of mac and cheese I'd been planning to make on the kitchen floor.  I started yelling and swearing, saying dinner was ruined and I had fucked it all up.  Much as he tried, Hubby couldn't convince me otherwise.  I wound up sobbing on the kitchen floor for awhile.  Same thing happened when a vase broke.  These are normal occurrences, but I was completely incapable of handling them normally.

In late July, I decided it was time to try the meds again.  I contacted my doctor (who is quite possibly the most understanding and least judgmental doctor I've ever met) and she put me back on Fluoxetine.  I started taking it again beginning in August, and I was already feeling happier just knowing that things would get better soon. 

Then came The Break-Up.  (Dun, dun, dunnnnnn.)

In August, Hubby and I were planning a camping trip, so I had worked "summer hours" that week (9-hour days Mon-Thurs, half day Friday) so we could get a head start.  Instead of trying to recall all of this, I'm going to copy/paste from my journal entry a few days after it happened.

We packed, we had lunch, we packed some more... He seemed a bit strange, but I wrote it off as lack of sleep combined with 3 cups of coffee in less than 3 hours (he stayed up late to play video games and drank a lot of coffee at work just for fun).

Then, when I asked him if he was OK again (I'd already asked, and his arm hurt, so I'd given him some ibuprofen), he said he had a lot going on in his mind. He seemed serious, so I took his hands and encouraged him to talk... He started with some stuff about how there was a lot of talk about marriage lately... and apparently he decided that he really couldn't see marrying me. I told him I wasn't looking to get married right now or anything, and we talked a bit more.

I asked at one point if he still loved me, and he took a long pause. Then he said, "I guess my silence sort of answered that..." He didn't say it in a mean way, just said it. I remained as calm and collected as I could, and continued talking to him about how we could work on things. He would say things that I found encouraging, that I thought meant we could work through it. Things about if we had hobbies together (I had recently told him I'd be happy to come out and hang with him while he worked on the car, and reiterated this, and agreed that I'd even try getting my hands dirty in the process), or if I had friends to hang with (I told him I could try being friends with [insert she-who-will-not-be-named here], and that once the meds kicked in, that I could look for a new job and have new coworkers to hang with)...

But all in all, he just wasn't sure he loved me anymore. He'd had doubts for weeks, he said. Did he still care about me? Yes. Deeply. He even said he "likes me a lot". At some point I started crying a bit, but was still trying to reason with him. Neither of us knew what to do. I told him that the logical thing might be to see if things get better with the meds, you know? But, there's nothing logical about love.

And so, I began to pack. He helped for awhile, but I couldn't stop myself from crying and saying the stupidest things. Things like, "I can't believe you went on vacation with me and didn't love me!" and "I just want you to love me again..." Lines that happen in a bad book or movie, but I just couldn't help it."

It was the worst pain I've experienced yet, and thankfully my sisters were there for me and I flew out to Las Vegas for a few days to recover. 

In my opinion, that break turned out to be one of the best things that happened to our relationship.  I got to spend some time back in my hometown, reassuring myself that I wasn't completely dependent on him, and finding that my meds were making things I normally couldn't do seem much more possible.  His time away from me made him realize that he truly did love me, depression/anxiety/insanity and all.  We were back together soon, and have been together since. 

As of this post, I'm on 40 MG of fluoxetine and 150 MG of bupropion (generic Wellbutrin), and I'm doing really well.  I used to think that being on anti-depressants meant I was dependent on them, and I hated that thought.  My mom put that into perspective for me.  She asked me, "Well, are you dependent on your glasses to see?"

"Uh, yeah..."

"The glasses don't change your eyes, they just make it easier to see.  The pills do the same thing.  They don't change who you are, they just make it easier to be you."

I still have my moments, and some days are harder than others, but it's mostly within the realm of normal emotions.  When I get sad, it's usually because something sad has happened instead of just out of the blue.  When I get frustrated, I don't yell and swear as much anymore.  And when I do have a particularly bad moment, I use some of the techniques I learned back in my days of therapy and some other relaxation methods.  I'm a nicer person to be around overall.

I've been back in school since August 2009, and am on track to get my BA in Psychology (go figure, right?).  I'm married to a wonderful man, and have a great house and an adorable dog.  I have friends who love me and family who always has my back.  I even have a hobby that I'm passionate about (photography is the most therapeutic thing I do)! 

A lot of people have contributed to my happiness and well-being.  I don't have the time or space to thank them all individually, but more than likely, you know who you are.  Thank you.  From the very bottom of my heart... Thank you.

The bottom line is something like this: Depression (and other mental illnesses) sucks.  It's trying for you and everyone around you, and some days (many days... sometimes every day) it feels like nothing will ever get better. 

It will. 

If you give it time, it will.  If you work at it, it will.  If you allow your friends and family to help you, it will.  If you find goals you want to achieve, it will.  And eventually, those days will become rarities, and when you slip back into old ways of thinking, just remember that it did get better.  And it will again.  Don't give up.

 

Thanks For the Memories

I was really hoping that I wouldn't have to write another entry like this for a long time.  But here I am.

The first time (of many) I injured myself at school was in first grade.  I was running around the corner of the building - on blacktop, of course - and hit some gravel.  Down I went.  I think I only skinned one knee that time (many times it was both), and the friction tore right through my tights (white - what was my mother thinking?).  I looked at my knee, skinned with bits of gravel sticking to it, and started crying.  I don't remember who got the teacher on duty, but as soon as I had gotten myself to the door, she was on alert.

Standing next to her was a short girl with a cast on her arm.  "Erika," the teacher said, "this is Rachael.  She's going to take you to the nurse's office."  I sniffled and nodded, then looked at Rachael.  She beamed at me and opened the door.  

On our trip to the nurse (which was a bit of a hike for a six-year-old, since it was in the middle school half of our building), Rachael did the talking.  She told me how she already knew where the nurse's office was because she was in first grade last year, but she had to take it again.  She showed me her cast and kept smiling the whole way there.  I'm sure she told me other things, too.  I just remember that smile. 

By the time we got to the office, I think I had forgotten all about my knee (unless they poured alcohol on it - FCOL, that shit stings!).  Rachael waited for me while I got a band-aid and she walked me back to the first grade rooms.  With one more smile, she waved and turned into her classroom.  

Time went on, and I continued to run into Rachael (small school; it happens).  Though she got teased a lot (didn't we all?), she never quit smiling.  Sure, eventually you could piss her off (I think I only did that once; I'm a quick learner), but it was pretty rare.

I was never all that fantastic at making friends, since I'm terribly shy, but I hadn't had to think about it with Rachael.  She just became my friend. 

And we stayed friends for a long time.  It wasn't until after a party at the beginning of my sophomore year of high school that we really started to separate, and I haven't seen her since I graduated high school nearly 10 years ago.  

This week, she died.  When I heard about it, I could only think of two things: scraping my knee when I was six and that party when I was 15.  In a way, those were the beginning and ending points of our friendship.  (Though I saw her pretty often after the party, things weren't quite the same, and we weren't the friends we had been.)  After that, all I could think about was how I regret not trying harder to stay in touch.  

I will, however, always have some great memories of Rachael, and for that I'm thankful.  But now I'm starting to wonder who might be next...

RIP, Rachael.  Keep smiling.

I'm More of an Atari

First and foremost, let me say that I had an overall awesome childhood.  My parents loved me, I had a neighborhood full of kids to play with, etc etc.  So in no way am I whining about having an incomplete experience as a kid, nor am I ranting about how unfair my parents were.  Understood?  Good.

That being said, I grew up in a house without video games.  Well, mostly.  

When I was 5, we got our first household computer.  It was an IBM and probably weighed more than I did at the time.  That computer was my introduction to anything remotely close to a video game.  I played Mixed-Up Mother Goose, Tetris and Prince of Persia like they were all going out of style.  (In all fairness, they probably were already out of style.  Oh well.) 

Around the same time, my dad began busting out his Atari 2600 from time to time.  Dad and I would have weekend long Pong tournaments (to the point where my thumbs would actually lock up from playing so much) and I learned to play almost every game we had (we only had probably 20-25 games), from Superman to Breakout, Berzerk to Phoenix, and everything in between.  Kaboom! was probably among my favorites (I liked the ones that used the paddle controllers).  I was pretty terrible at most of them (Pole Position, for example), but I loved playing anyway.  (The only one I really never got into was Raiders of the Lost Ark; for the life of me I couldn't figure out how to play that one!)

  

Sadly, the Atari was set up only sparingly, so my video game exposure was still pretty limited.  A few of my friends had Nintendos, and I began a love/hate relationship with Mario Brothers.  Later it was Kirby who stole my heart and, when the neighbors got an N64, it was all about Yoshi.  

Pretty soon, it seemed that video games were all around me.  In the summer, my mom would drop me off at a friend's house so her older sister could babysit for me.  Almost every morning started with Sega.  Sonic sometimes, but usually Aladdin (I still remember trying to time it so Aladdin would jump on the magic carpet right when the music got to, "...all I gotta do is juuuuuuuuuuuuuuump!").

My dad's best friend has two sons who never knew what to do with me when I was visiting with my parents.  They let me play Duck Hunt a few times, but my aim was terrible.  There was one time when I had a friend with me (A, I think) and they left us alone with Mortal Kombat.  20 minutes later and A and I were completely engrossed, beating the crap out of each other (in the game).  I'm sure we were horrible, but we had a lot of fun anyway.   

Then, when I started going to the orthodontist when I was 10, they had video games to play while you were waiting!  They were handheld games and you only had one or two games to pick from, but it was still the coolest thing ever.  When they remodeled the facility, they included two honest to goodness video game machines, just like you'd find at the arcade.  I'd look forward to playing for the 5 or 10 minutes I normally had to wait, and when the wait was longer, I was even happier.  

Sometimes when I went over to A's mom's house, we'd play some winter Olympics game that she had.  At her dad's, it was often Mario Party or something along those lines.  A also had this awesome computer game called The Neverhood that we would play together for hours.    

At one point, I decided I wanted a Game Boy more than anything in this world, so I asked my mom about it.  When she shot me down, I asked, "Well, what if I save up and pay for it myself?  Then can I have one?"  Shot down again.  Cue young Riki crying, "But that's not faaaaaaair!"  And Mom's standard response of, "You mean it's not what you waaaaaaant!"  (She was right.)

As I got older, I finally got some computer games that were more video game-y than KidPix or the one where Mario teaches you to type.  It started with games that included educational stuff (my Greek mythology game was my favorite for a long time, thus my cat being named Zeus).  Then it was card and word games that made me use logic and strategy.  But at one point, my dad bought me Tomb Raider, because he thought it was neat to have a female lead in a video game.  I probably consider that the first "real" video game I owned.

In college, one of my best friends had a GameCube (Super Smash Melee FTW!), and another good friend had a PlayStation.  Even though I rarely actually played anything on it (Tekken bowling was probably about it), the PS provided hours of entertainment as we'd turn off the lights and watch its owner play creepy games like Silent Hill, purposely freaking ourselves out.    

Fast forward to Christmas 2008.  I'd mentioned to my parents that Hubby and I (who were sharing an apartment at the time) really wanted a Wii.  I told them about the exercise games and about how Wii makes you get up and move around in order to play, hoping desperately to convince them.  Lo and behold, at the ripe old age of 24, I finally had my very own video game system.  Woohoo!!

Maybe, though, it's for the best that Mom and Dad didn't let me get a system growing up.  At it is, I keep myself pretty busy with the computer, the Wii and our PS3, but I also spend a lot of time doing other things, like reading or watching movies.  My life isn't consumed by video games, and a system in my childhood might have resulted in just that.  (I'm not saying everyone who had video games as a kid is a video game addict as an adult; I just have an addictive personality and can admit that even now I spend too much time on this damn Dell!)

Actually, I guess I should probably thank my parents for not letting me get what I wanted.  Damn them for being right!  And getting me to admit it in adulthood (after being told some day I would understand)!  Well played, parents.  Well played. 

One Last Magical Day

Sorry for the delay, folks.  I'm finally over whatever sickness it was that I had (we're thinking it was Strep, but I don't know for sure because I've never had it before), which means I've been furiously catching up with work, homework, and housework.  Doing pretty well on the first two, but our house still looks like a disaster zone.  Eh, we'll let this one go Meatloaf style (2 out of 3 ain't bad!).  

So, Friday the 9th was our last day of Disney.  We decided to try and make it as epic as humanly possible and our goal was to head to Downtown Disney for a few hours before spending the whole rest of the day at MK (minus our reservations for dinner at 'Ohana).  

Downtown Disney isn't really a park so much as it is its own little town.  There are three parts to DD, but we really only ventured through the Marketplace on this trip.  The Marketplace, as its name implies, is full of shopping.  There's a Lego store, a store dedicated to Christmas ornaments, another art store and, best of all, the World of Disney.  World of Disney is sort of like an entire mini-mall of Disney stuff.  They have clothes, toys, jewelry, kitchen stuff, food, books, movies, music...  I could go on and on.  Essentially, if you want it, they have it (with the exception of my puzzle; I'm not saying they didn't have it, necessarily, but I sure didn't find it there, and I looked HARD).  

While at Downtown Disney, my only true goal was to go to Wetzel's Pretzels.  You see, my last name is Hetzel (my married name, anyway), and I was determined to get a picture with Hubby and caption it "Hetzels Eating Wetzel's Pretzels."  Perfect, right?  The pretzels were delicious, and Bestie did snap a photo for us, though I have yet to see it.  My secondary goal was to get some good shopping in, since we were heading back to the resort before we went to MK.  

I may have gone a little nuts, but thankfully, we had saved up for this trip and Hubby is good to me. :)  I got Mickey ears that light up with fireworks, a picture frame, a Wall-E and Eve ornament (Hubby and I like to get ornaments whenever we go on a trip together; might've been inspired by Bestie and her hubby), a Cheshire Cat antennae topper, a Jungle Cruise glass and a t-shirt for hubby!  Woohoo!

While we didn't get over to Pleasure Island or West Side on this trip, it was still a successful trip.  While we waited for the bus, I asked Hubby if he had any money, as I was eying up the vending machine.  He said he only had two dollars, but that the pop cost $2.75.  It just so happened that I had grabbed 3 quarters from our change at the hotel that morning, so I figured it was fate.  I went and bought a Coke and just as I took a step away from the machine, a second Coke dropped out.  Cautiously, I grabbed the second bottle and as I walked away, a THIRD bottle dropped!  Holy cow, man!  I hit the Coke machine lottery!

Standing there with three bottles in my hands (and a confused look on my face, I'm sure), I said, "Would anyone like a Coke?"  A man in front of me shrugged and put out his hand.  He and his wife split it, and his wife was very thankful (she wanted to get something to drink before her kids insisted on sharing it).  I gave the other bottle to Bestie and C, and we all agreed that it was bound to be a good day.  

It sprinkled on us a bit at the bus stop, but eventually our bus came and whisked us away.  After a short break at the resort, it was off to MK!  The order of events is probably a bit off, but that afternoon, we did:

• The Monsters Inc Laugh floor - Like Turtle Talk with Crush, this is an interactive attraction that's bound to entertain you, no matter what age.  
• The People Mover - A slow, gentle ride that guides you through some of Tomorrowland.  
• Carousel of Progress - If you're ready to just sit in the dark for a bit, this is a perfect stop.  Just be warned that you will leave with a song stuck in your head.  "There's a great, big, beautiful tomorrow..."
• Space Mountain - Only Bestie and I braved this one, but it was a blast!  I hadn't been on it since I was 17, and having Bestie giggling in the seat behind me the whole way made the ride that much better.
• Cosmic Ray's Starlight Cafe - A pretty fun quick service restaurant.  There are 3 "bays" to choose from; one serves primarily chicken entrees, another is strictly burgers and the last is random sandwiches.  While you eat, you're serenaded by Sonny Eclipse, an alien lounge singer that looks sort of like a dinosaur with a bad hair piece.

Eventually, it was close to dinner time, and we took the boat over to the Polynesian resort.  'Ohana was the first place we ate on our honeymoon, so it was sort of fitting that it was the last Disney dining experience we'd really have on this trip.  As we promised Bestie and C, there was food galore.  Starting with coconut-pineapple bread, the food just keeps coming every 5-10 minutes or so.  There's a salad, pot stickers, chicken wings, veggies, lo mein noodles, and eventually some of the best meat you'll ever eat.  On ginormous skewers, Cast Members bring around shrimp, pork, beef and chicken, and slide it onto your plate so you can chow down without ever getting up.  

Dessert is an amazing bread pudding with caramelized banana sauce, served a la mode, but Bestie also got us some ice cream to celebrate (C had gotten a promotion while we were on vacay, and I had joined a national honor society just before we left for FL).  By the end, we were seriously stuffed.  

We wandered down to the beach to watch Wishes from across the water, then checked out the beautiful art store at the Polynesian.  When we took the boat back to MK, we were the only 4 people aboard.  Our captain was very friendly and knowledgeable, sharing with us that Cinderella's Castle is 189 feet tall.  Why not 190?  Because air space guidelines require that you put one of those red blinky lights on structures that tall, and Walt didn't want to have that take away from the magic.  :)

On our way in, we caught the Main Street Electrical Parade, which I don't think I've ever seen before in its entirety.  After that, I know we did Splash Mountain (which was just as fun as I remembered) and one last time on the Haunted Mansion.  We also tried to hunt down some more ice cream for Bestie, but we were SOL.  Boooooo.

We said goodnight and goodbye to MK and took our last bus ride back to the resort.  Since Bestie and C were headed out earlier than Hubby and I were, we had to say goodbye before we went to our room for one last sleep at WDW.   

Best Thursday Ever.

So, as you can see, by Thursday of our trip, we had been to each park at least once.  Whatever will we do??

Oh, right.  Go back for more!  Wooooo!  

Thursday morning we had early breakfast reservations at Chef Mickey's, which is at the Contemporary resort.  Since we weren't sure we'd be able to catch a bus that would get us over there by 8:05, we decided to drive.  We piled into Bestie and C's rental car and were greeted at the parking lot by a lovely British man.  Bestie and I agreed that he had the best accent ever and we wanted to take him with us, but alas, it wasn't to be.

The Contemporary, unlike Caribbean Beach or even Coronado Springs (where Hubby and I stayed for our honeymoon), is all indoors.  Once we got in, it was escalators ahoy!  They have the really skinny ones, so we had to go up single file (suddenly I'm thinking we should've pulled a Brady Bunch and started singing...).  

Once we got checked in, it wasn't too long of a wait to get seated (it may have felt like forever because we were hungry and could smell food).  Bestie and C hadn't been there before (or, at least not for breakfast; I can't remember for sure), but Hubby and I were seasoned pros at this point (er, yeah... after having been there once...  a year and a half ago... whatever).  I loaded down my first plate with every tasty thing I could find: fruit, cottage cheese, breakfast pizza, bacon, croissants, and - best of all - grits.  

I may be a yankee (Wisco born and raised!), but dammit, I have southern blood running through my veins, and you just cannot get good grits in the north (with the exception of Cracker Barrel; they do a pretty good job).  So when I find them, I go nuts.  My second trip up to the buffet was for a doughnut and a bowl full of grits.  Nom nom nom.  (In case you care, I'm a butter and salt kind of gal; I take after my daddy.)  By the time we left, I probably had grits coming out of my ears, but I was happy as a clam!

Chef Mickey's, like Tusker House, is character dining, so we had Mickey, Minnie, Goofy, Donald and Pluto all stop by our table to say hi!  Bestie wanted pictures with them all, so I took on camera duty.  I told her it wasn't a problem, but that I wouldn't be getting up for any pictures because I had food, and nothing was coming between me and my food (particularly my grits).  Thankfully, I have a bestie who wasn't in the least bit offended, and was just happy I was willing to take pictures for her.  :)

After breakfast, we decided to take a ride on the monorail, since it comes through the Contemporary (yep, through it).  We hopped on and just rode that darn thing around in a loop!  From the Contemporary, your next stop is the TTC (Ticketing and Transportation Centre).  Then it's on to the Grand Floridian and the Polynesian.  Last stop is Magic Kingdom, and then you're back at the Contemporary!  

We drove the car back to our resort, and then after a short break, hopped a bus to Animal Kingdom.  As we were approaching, I went to grab my Key to the World and...  uh...  Crap!  It wasn't where it was supposed to be.  I freaked out, but Bestie, ever the optimist and Disney queen, just suggested we go to Guest Relations to see what they could do.  A few questions later (my resort, where I'm from, etc) and I had a brand new card.  Phew!

Our main goal was to hit up the Dinosaur ride, since we had missed it earlier in the week, but we started by checking out some nature trails along the way.  Once we got to Dinosaur, Hubby opted out, but C hadn't been on it before, so the 3 of us headed onward.  I, for one, love this ride.  1) I've always had a thing for dinosaurs.  Blame my dad.  2) On my honeymoon, I totally realized that it was Hodges from CSI that does the intro and voice!  3) I know when the picture is coming up, so I can be properly prepared with a thumbs up.  

The rest of the AK experience is a bit of a blur.  I don't think we did any more rides, but we did go check out the nature trails in Asia.  We got to see flying foxes, tigers, and all sorts of animals just hanging around.  I had to go see my hippos on the nature trail, so Hubby and I left C and Bestie to sit and chill while we hoofed it through the African jungle so I could visit my hippo friends.  Thankfully, they were being pretty playful, and kept swimming past the window.  It's murky, and there are a TON of fish in there, but it's cool to see it anyway.  Especially when they seem to be playing tag or follow the leader, and both wander past!  

I think that's about all we did (except for getting more frozen Coke/other pop; that was something we did at least once a day) at AK, and soon it was off to Epcot.  Our first goal was to find lunch, so we headed toward the World Showcase.  Upon entering Epcot, we found the Flower and Garden Festival in full swing.  There were flowers and plants everywhere!  And the topiaries were insane...  It was just beautiful.

We had lunch at the Cantina de San Angel, which is a quick service restaurant in Mexico that serves tacos and nachos.  Getting a table was INSANE at this place, and the food was only so-so (although, I did really enjoy my cantaloupe popsicle!) so I don't know if I'd go back again, but I'm glad we had the experience. :)

We wandered from country to country for hours, with my only real goal being to visit the wall of Pocky in Japan.  (OK, it's actually just a wall of candy and snacks, but there's a whole section of Pocky and it was calling my name.)  We ended up getting some really delicious ice cream in France (go figure) while Bestie looked desperately for the magic rose.  Sadly, we couldn't find it.  Our best guess is that it's going to be a part of the new Beauty & The Beast restaurant (soon to come!) and that it's just not on display until then. 

At some point I got my Pocky (and a bottle of watermelon Ramune; love that stuff!), and we encountered the Canada pavilion where a band was playing in kilts (the band name was Off Kilter - is that not hysterical?!).  It was a bit of a mindf*ck, so we stopped and watched for a minute or two.  We also stopped in at The Art of Disney, where they have AMAZING artwork to drool over.  

One of the funniest things that happened, happened while I was in the bathroom right around England.  There was a little boy standing there with his grandmother (mom was in a stall) and he was holding her hand, jumping up and down chanting, "Monorail!  Monorail!  Monorail!"  (Not like The Simpsons; more like a little kid excited for ice cream or a pony ride.)  From in the stall his mom says, "I spend the money, get the kids down here to Disney World, where they can do anything and what does my son want to do?  The Monorail..."  She didn't sound annoyed or put out; I imagine she was smiling and shaking her head instead.  I turned to the boy and told him that I rode the monorail this morning and it was pretty awesome, so I understood!  :)

Hubby was shocked (and a bit excited) that we didn't have dinner reservations that night.  When I suggested we order pizza (which we had thought about doing the night before, but we weren't ALL that hungry), I think he was downright giddy.  The four of us snagged our little table at the resort and Hubby ordered us a pizza and breadsticks.  We spent a few hours out there, eating, drinking and talking.  It was practically perfect in every way. :)

Animal! Animal!

Hey, ho!  Sicky McSickSick here!  Ugh.  I missed half a day of work yesterday and all of today (which, when you work from home, means you're either playing hooky or really effing miserable).  My throat is in slightly less pain today, but, now I can't lie down without having a coughing fit, so, yeah.  Fun!

Doesn't mean we can't continue our journey through Disney, right?

Our second full day (Tuesday, March 6th) was spent at the Animal Kingdom, quite possibly my favorite park!  If you've never been, parts of it are like a ginormous zoo, except you don't usually have to look through cages and wires (with a few exceptions, of course).  Other parts have rides, restaurants and shops like the other parks, and the whole thing is tied together by the magic of Disney.

We started at Tusker House for breakfast.  It was our first time there, and I'm already thinking for our 5 year anniversary (the next Disney trip we're planning) that we should go back.  Why?  Two big reasons.

1) It's Character dining that counts as only 1 table service meal per person (Cinderella's Royal Table was similar with the princesses, but it "costs" 2 table service meals per person).  You start by taking a picture with Donald (in his safari gear, of course) and then upon being seated, you can see Mickey, Minnie, Daisy and Goofy all making their rounds (and yes, they WILL stop at your table!).  Too fun!

2) It's a ginormous buffet.  For reals.  Bagels, fresh fruit, eggs, bacon, doughnuts, croissants, ham, quiche, and more await you, and for a 9:30 AM reservation, it really wasn't the madhouse that I had expected.  All the food is nice and fresh (warm when it should be, cold when it shouldn't) and, of course, tasty.  (Not to mention the super tasty juice they bring you!  Man, I could live off that stuff!)

Two memories were made that morning.  The first was when I may have startled our waitress.  Every cast member's name tag shows where he or she is from, and our waitress just so happened to be from Wisconsin.  I was so excited I shouted, "Sconnie!"  Thankfully, the others were there to explain that we were all from Wisconsin (at least, in part) as well, so we bonded over the sad loss of the Packers and the awesomeness of being in Florida without snow.

The second was when they brought over the picture of the 4 of us with Donald.  Now, unlike Cinderella's, the picture they take at Tusker House is NOT included with the meal.  The package (one big photo and 4 smaller ones, I think) cost about $38, and since Bestie had a cast member take the same pic with her camera, we declined.  But, before it was taken away, C noticed something interesting: "They covered my shirt!"  Indeed they had.  C was wearing a Coors shirt that day, and instead of blurring it out or (Heaven forbid) leaving it alone, they covered it with the Disney 2012 logo.

After breakfast, we went on my favorite AK ride, the Kilimanjaro Safari.  I won't bore you with tons of details, but on this ride, you get to go on a safari through the park, where you can see anything from giraffes to warthogs to hippos (yay!) hanging out in what looks like their natural habitat.  Again, sort of like the zoo, but seriously cooler.

We spent some time on the nature trails after that, checking out more animals from around the world and enjoying the beautiful day.  It wasn't too hot, but we decided we'd go on Kali River Rapids.  I freakin' love this ride, and I hadn't done it since high school, so I was all gung-ho.  The signs along the line say, "Caution: You WILL get wet.  You MAY get soaked."  Guess who got soaked...  Yep!  Hubby and I were pretty well drenched (at least from the back).  And since I refuse to go anywhere in shorts, I was wearing full length jeans, which do NOT dry out very quickly.  Or at all.  I had a serious case of wet-butt for the rest of the day.  

In an attempt to dry off (and since I'd never been on it, nor had Hubby), we headed toward Expedition Everest, the mountain ride in AK.  Bestie and her husband love this ride, so we were hoping Hubby would enjoy it, too.  Well, about 2/3 of the way through the ride or so, we came to a stop.  At first I assumed they were helping someone on or off the ride who needed assistance, but we just weren't moving.  At all.  And eventually a voice told us that the expedition was over for right now and to hang tight and wait for a cast member to arrive.  

Now, as much as I am curious about the last third of the ride, this was possibly one of the coolest things to happen.  We got to do an emergency ride evacuation at Disney!  Too cool!!  Hubby, one the other hand, was just happy the ride was over with.  It seems that no, this was not the kind of ride that his body could handle, and he was feeling pretty miserable by that time.  We did an evac through the mountain itself, and while we weren't allowed to take photos (even if some dumb girl did with her phone, ugh), it was an experience I'll never forget.  How many guests get to see the inside of a Disney ride like that?  

After grabbing Hubby some Dramamine, we parked ourselves on a bench and had some treats (mmmm... Mickey Ears).  I think that was when we decided we'd head back to the resort, change, and then hit up Downtown Disney.  By the time we were back at the resort, I asked Bestie if she'd kill me if I said a nap sounded really good.  We all agreed we could use a break, so we said goodbye and goodnight.  

Hubby and I wound up napping for a few hours before hopping on a bus to Epcot for our date night dinner at San Angel Inn, the table service restaurant in Mexico.  I'll probably end up doing some kind of review on San Angel later, so for now, I'll just say 3 things:  1) They did an amazing job making this place feel small and intimate.  2) Everything I ate was pretty freakin' awesome!  3) Beware: Tequila shots here can be expensive.  There's actually a $50+ shot you can get!  Aye yi yi...

Since we had a later reservation, we pretty much headed straight for the bus when dinner was over.  The wait for the bus was ridiculous.  Not because of the bus itself; it was there pretty promptly.  But we had to wait to load a scooter on to the bus (it was being shared by an overweight couple presumably on their honeymoon who just couldn't hoof it through the parks like the rest of us tubby folk), and then a wheelchair (which was being used by an elderly woman, so no grief there).  It actually took so long that a SECOND bus for our resort came up and parked behind it, and the whole line of guests actually cheered when the driver opened the door to let us on.  

All in all, it was another successful and magical Disney day!  Again, I encourage you to check out my Bestie's blog (The Disney Hippy) for a different perspective. :)  

It's A Small World, After All

Ack!  No.  Not the ride.  That is one ride I refuse to do as an adult.  I endured it 3 times in my life; that's more than enough for me, thanks.

I'm talking about the World(s) of Epcot.  And I guess after walking all day, it doesn't really feel so small.

After a quick breakfast at the resort, we hopped the bus over to Epcot on Monday morning.  (For those who are less familiar with Disney, that's the one that has the giant golf ball.)  Since the entrance takes you straight to Future World, that's where we began our day.  

When this day began, I had no idea how we were going to handle things.  Bestie (M) has a muscle disorder that makes stairs and inclines especially painful, and I knew that there was a possibility of getting her a wheelchair while we were at Disney (and, of course, also the possibility that she would be too stubborn to get one).  Little did I know the magic of the Guest Assistance Pass/Card.  I have been forever ruined.  The GAC lets people who have difficulty walking for long times, issues with stairs, etc still have a magical Disney experience.  It's sort of like a fast pass, only you don't have to come back at a certain time.  The best part of this pass is that you can take your whole party along so you don't end up getting separated!  

Test Track has always been one of my favorite rides, and since Hubby's a car guy, it's a pretty sure thing that you can find us there.  Bestie and her hubs like it, too, so off we went.  We sailed through the fast pass lane and got to hang around looking at car stuff.  Hubby, of course, was trying to explain certain functions of car parts, but I was too busy taking pictures and talking to Bestie to really take anything in.  

Hubby has a bit of a weak stomach when it comes to turns and jolting around, so as much as he enjoys Test Track, it's best that we only go one it once.  Things get fuzzy after that, but I know, in some order, we did:

Soarin' 

First, I love that Patrick Warbuton does the intro thing.  He makes the world a better place.  Also, this ride has me convinced that Disney is, in fact, run on magic.  I don't know how else they could make you feel like you're actually flying!

Club Cool
The Coke sponsored, air-conditioned building where you can try pop from around the world.  There are some tasty ones (I like the apple flavored one, Hubby enjoyed watermelon), but watch out for Beverly.  Also, you can buy regular coke OR coke slushies here.  Nom nom nom.

Living With The Land

Hubby's favorite ride.  You get to see all sorts of awesome plants (including a 9 pound lemon), some cool fish (tilapia, anyone?) and how Disney (and others) are using the two together to produce healthier fish AND plants for all of us!

Turtle Talk With Crush

This is an interactive thing that you would probably think is aimed at children.  I guess it technically is, but trust me, they know how to keep the adults entertained, too.  Hubby and I hadn't seen this one before, and it was pretty hilarious!

The Seas w/Nemo & Friends

So, you hop in a little clam-mobile and slowly travel through the seas, looking for Nemo (can't that damn fish stay in one spot?).  All your favorites from the movie are there: Dory, Marlin, Crush, Squirt, Mr. Ray and others appear while you search for the world's most famous clown fish.  You'd think he would have a harder time hiding with all that publicity...

Spaceship Earth

This is the ride that takes you inside the giant golf ball.  No, really.  It's true!  Spaceship Earth takes you on a journey through our past and into what could be our future.  It’s a very slow, but very cool ride that empties into an equally awesome building (Project Tomorrow) where you can test out video games and other “futuristic” technologies.

Electric Umbrella

A great restaurant for lunch.  If you’re on the dining plan, the best part (to me, anyway) is that you can use your “dessert” to get a fruit cup!  Don’t get me wrong.  I frickin’ LOVE desserts.  But I knew we were going to have some awesome desserts at dinner, so it was nice to have the option at lunch. 

The Seas

In the same building as Crush and the Nemo ride, there is a HUGE aquarium (and a bunch of smaller aquariums).  You can see fish, sharks, dolphins, manatees, and more in these aquariums!  Bestie’s favorite was probably the cuttlefish (which, btw, is pretty crazy and cool - we saw it change colors right in front of us!), but I think mine were the jellyfish.  Something about them is so surreal…

Eventually we decided it was time to make our way to World Showcase, so we took the ferry across (which was really convenient, actually).  We stopped outside Germany for a bit and walked through Italy.  We went into the “American Adventure” pavilion and got lucky enough to catch the Voices of Liberty doing their thing.  They have some amazing talent and a lot of fun, so it was definitely a pleasant surprise.

Dinner was at Les Chefs de France in, of course, the France pavilion.  We spent some time trying to teach Bestie some French (in particular, “I am a hippopotamus” and “Can I sharpen my pencil?”), but it wasn’t really working.  We totally made fools of ourselves in front of some native French speakers, but hey – it’s Disney!  I’m supposed to be a fool.  Anywhoozles, the food was excellent.  I had a wonderful French onion soup followed by half a chicken, which I ordered in French.  Of course, our waitress said, “Oh!  You speak French?”  I froze before saying, ”Un peu!” (“A little!”) so she didn’t try to bombard me with the language I gave up learning about 10 years ago.

My dessert, as predicted, was amazing.  It was a strawberry cream cake with raspberry sorbet on the side, and it was just Heaven.  The French definitely know how to do dessert, and for that, I thank them. 

The best part of this dinner was when C (Bestie’s husband) came back from the bathroom and told us there had been a little girl singing, “I love potatoes!” in a high-pitched voice.  The rest of the vacation, we would spontaneously burst out with, “I love potatoes!” and then try to get as high as we could.  It was most excellent.

After grabbing a Grand Marnier slushie to go, we headed toward the entrance and caught a bus back to our resort.  I think this is the evening that Bestie and I soaked away in the hot tub for awhile as our menfolk got drinks and talked amongst themselves.  If so, it also makes it the night that I beat both my hubby and Bestie’s hubby at air hockey.  That’s right.  I’m an air hockey champ, yo!

I walked Bestie back to our rooms and we each headed off for bed.  Our husbands came back shortly after we did, as I’m pretty sure they were exhausted, too.

Oof.  Well, I apologize for the length of this one, kids.  I’m sick and this was a nice break from reality.  :)