A Dauntless in Denver Wedding Week: Part 3

Wednesday, the day before the wedding...WHAT. I can't even wrap my head around it. We're getting married tomorrow. 

Andy had to work today, so Leslie, Ryan, and I went and had dinner, then went to an awesome macaron place in Highlands Ranch, Honey B's. We each picked out the macarons we wanted, and then went to scout picture locations for our engagement photos, which we took today. Cause, I mean, everyone does their engagement photos the day before the wedding, right? We were going to try and do them in Parker, but there really weren't any places to do it, so that was a bust.

We went grocery shopping for a few things we needed for tonight, and then we went home for a nap. Andy got home for work, and we left right away for our pictures downtown, since Parker didn't work. In an hour, we managed to do Union Station, Starbucks, and the Blake Street Vault, where we met. Leslie took some awesome photos, and I can't wait to share them.

About 7:45, we arrived home, and I opened the door from the garage into the house, and immediately shut it again. The house was full of people, mostly Andy's family. And I suddenly realized how terrified I was. Not terrified to marry Andy. I'm thrilled by that, and I can't wait. It doesn't scare me at all. But joining this whole other family scares me to death. I'm the first person to join the family in over a decade. It's well established.

Then there's me, coming in to join. I don't really know them that well. Andy is the youngest, and he's middle aged. It's scary, coming into a new family. Talk about having to be Dauntless. I love and trust Andy enough not to freak out too much about it. But maybe coming from such a broken family, into one that is intact- flawed, yes, but still intact- is what is so scary. Maybe I don't know how to "do" intact family. What does that entail? Family no longer means to me what it used to, and it doesn't mean to me what it means to most others. Just because someone is family, doesn't mean you never let them go. Sometimes, you have to. Sometimes, that's the only way to be whole. So maybe coming into an intact family is frightening because I don't know what that entails. I don't even really know what it means.

I'm willing to learn, and with Andy by my side, I guess I'll be okay. 

A Dauntless in Denver Wedding Week: Part 2

Day two of wedding week has ended, and I have two sleepy kitties purring next to me as I write this. It's been a long day, to say the least. I had to head up to Fort Collins for our marriage license (long story), which was three hours in the car, total. Not my idea of a fun time. I'm still not sure if I'm mad or happy that it took me fewer than 10 minutes to park, get into the building, get the license, and back in the car.

I picked my parents up on the way home, and they spent a few hours helping me clean, and I helped my dad figure out his smartphone (!!!!!!) and download the Lyft app and create an account for him.

After they left, I went to the airport to pick up one of my best friends, Ryan, and his girlfriend, Leslie. Ryan is officiating, and Leslie is the photographer. You may remember Ryan from the blog posts on our two near-death experiences together- the incident of the flying Uhaul, and the time we narrowly escaped severe frostbite in the mountains earlier this year.

We all went to bed shortly after getting back from the airport, and I have settled in to write a post that needs to be written, but I'm not sure I'm going to like. My therapist strongly suggested I do this before the wedding, though, so here goes.

This is a letter from me, to my big brother, Matt.

Dear Matt,
I'm getting married this week, can you believe it?! And I just turned 34 too! You used to think people in their 30s were so old. You'd be 43 now, if you were still alive. But you'll never experience aging, you'll be 19 forever.  That seemed so grown up to me when you went, but it seems so young now. You were just a kid.

I'd give my right arm to have you here with me this week. You're supposed to be here. You're not supposed to be dead and buried over a thousand miles away. You should be here tomorrow, when everyone comes to our house for dinner. You with your big smile, and your blue eyes. You should be making things confusing, by being the third Matt out of fewer than 20 people. You should be here.

But you won't be. 

You would love Andy. I can just picture you guys laughing and joking, and ganging up on me. You would approve of him. He has a good job, and has his life together. It took him a little while, but he did a good job, in the end. He's only a couple years younger than you would be. I would give anything for you to be here with us.

But you won't be. 

I grew up with two siblings, Andy grew up with three. All three of his siblings are coming. None of mine are. Neither of you are going to be here. I didn't grow up an only child. I have lost both of you. You to death, and Anna to other things. You should both be here.

But you won't be. 

You would be so proud of me. Shortly before you died, you looked me in the eyes and made me promise you I wouldn't grow up to be a loser like you- your words. You weren't a loser. You were hurting, and doing your best to keep things together. You ultimately failed, but you weren't a loser. You were my big brother. You would be so proud of my Master's degree. You'd be so proud of how I'm training in the gym and dealing with my illnesses. You'd be so proud of my choice of a life partner. You would be proud of how I haven't let things hold me back. You should be here, beaming with pride.

But you won't be. 

I'll be thinking of you, Big Brother, when we are all gathered at dinner tomorrow, and when we are gathered at Sprague Lake saying our vows on Thursday. I'll be thinking about how much I love you and how lucky I was to have you, for nearly ten years of my life. You should be there, in my heart and in my head, with me in my soul, and in this person you helped me become.

And you will be. 

A Dauntless in Denver Wedding Week, Part 1

Wedding week has arrived! I thought it would never come, but here it is. Things are crazy busy, and they are just going to keep getting crazy busier. Holy crap. [Insert freak out here].

Wedding Week was supposed to kick off on Sunday, with my parents flying in from Cincinnati. Monday was my birthday, so they came to spend it with me. Their flight was supposed to come in at 8:30 Sunday evening. Plenty of time to pick them up, take them to their hotel, and let them settle and sleep before the next day. However (there's always a "however," isn't there...), due to severe storms in Palm Springs, where their plane was coming from, the flight got delayed. By nearly six hours.

Thrilling. Because an all-nighter is just what two solid septuagenarians need. Especially one with a bad back and recently broken hip. And staying up nearly all night for me is just what I needed to kick off my week. I am hoping to high heaven that this is the only big hiccup of the week.

I got home from dropping of my parents at their hotel, and managed to get to bed about 4am. That big, leisurely birthday I had planned? Yeah, that didn't happen.

I finally dragged myself out of bed about 11, and took my car to Jiffy Lube for an emergency oil change (thank you, Lyft!), and then came home to take a nap because...I was still half dead.

My parents came over via Lyft about 3, and after the grand house tour, we went to Runner's Roost in Lone Tree for my birthday present, new running shoes. This place is awesome, and I would recommend it to anyone in the Denver area. They put you on a treadmill to evaluate your gait with an iPad, then match you to the correct shoe. Not too long later, I was out the door with new shoes, and tape for my shin splints.

After that, we went to Park Meadows Mall, to get Mom clothes for the wedding, a tie for Andy, and makeup for me. We started at Sephora, where I got an entire list of items- you know, actual quality makeup that won't wear off my face in 2 hours- and underestimated the total by a couple hundred dollars. Still suffering from sticker shock there. Thank you, Mom and Dad for counting it as a wedding cost! It'll be way cheaper to replace item by item than buy it all at once. Yeesh. Pretty excited though. Now I have the tools I need to create more of the Dauntless makeup look I have been wanting for a while!

After that, we got Mom some clothes and Andy a tie at JC Penney, then went to meet Andy downstairs at The Cheesecake Factory for my birthday dinner. While waiting, I had a totally chance encounter with one of my soul sisters, Star, who just happened to be there too. It's been way too long since I've seen her, and the last two times we had scheduled for her to come over, she got sick!

I had a dinner of guacamole, amazing gluten free pasta, and gluten free cheesecake, and then went home  to bed. It wasn't hard to get to sleep.

Despite a rough start, it was a good 34th birthday. I kept musing, as I saw many birthday wishes come in, and people talking about my birthday and wedding in the same week, how infinitely better this birthday was over my birthday just two years ago. That one, I was in hell. I spent the day in the car with my parents, driving back from my Autism eval in North Carolina, and wanting to die from the pain of losing the person I had thought I was going to spend my life with. I had so many friends that day say, "I feel like 'happy birthday' is inappropriate, but I wanted to at least acknowledge that it is your birthday."

It's amazing the difference two short years can make. I can't wait to see what this year holds. 

Past vs. Present Truth

I know, I know, a bunch of you are already thinking, "There is no 'past truth' or 'present truth,' there is only TRUTH." No worries, I have not become a relativist, I fully agree. But hear me out. Sometimes past truth and present truth are actually two different things. I came to this realization this March, when I was visiting my mom in the hospital for a few days, in Cincinnati.

Mom was in a lot of distress, as she had broken her hip, and then gotten pneumonia while in the hospital. I came out to visit, and lend a hand. I wanted to make sure my 76 year old father was not staying at the hospital every night, and that he was getting some rest. I also wanted to know what was going on, and make sure my parents knew what was going on. Because I have dealt with significant chronic illness my entire life, I understand the human body and illness better than both parents combined. Plus, I'm effectively the only child, so I just needed to be there.

Over the last few years, things have gotten much better with my parents, to the point that there isn't much I don't tell them anymore. They have come SO far, and have gained my trust in a way they hadn't even gad it before ATI. Most visits go down without incident anymore. But we're still human, we still have issues, and I still have PTSD.

One night, Mom was getting really anxious about not being able to eat. She had developed Thrush, and nothing she ate tasted good. This one night, she was really working herself up, and I suggested she take an anxiety pill, because her worrying about not eating was going to do her more harm than actually not eating. Mom was really wound up and unhappy (with very good reason), and she snapped, "Kathleen, I need you to not suggest I take an anxiety pill right now, because that just makes me more anxious."

I acknowledge, given the situation, there was absolutely nothing unreasonable about Mom's reaction. She had every right to be wound up and upset and snap, if she damn well chose. But I also have PTSD. And I got massively triggered. But I had come to help, and I tried to ignore the flashbacks and brewing panic attack, because that wasn't helpful. And it was my night to stay with Mom. I told them I was going to run out and get dinner, and then Dad could leave. As I was walking out, Mom noticed I wasn't okay, and asked what was wrong. At which point, I could no longer hold it in. The last thing I wanted was to make this a THING. But there was no way to avoid it anymore.

I started crying, and Mom asked what was wrong. So I told her that my PTSD got triggered, and that I used to try and suggest solutions to issues, and I would get  accused of being arrogant and contentious, and sent to my room to beg God to change my hard, rebellious heart. She used to snap at me much as she did this time. And as I was explaining, I said, "I feel really bad because I came here and it's not your fault- well it is your fault because you gave me PTSD, but it's not your fault now because you're not like that anymore." For one thing, it was amazing that I was even able to realize that it both was and was not her fault, at the same time. Past truth, she gave me PTSD. Present truth, she isn't like that, and she wasn't being unreasonable in the moment. It wasn't her fault, in the present. It was an unfortunate result of her past actions.

But what happened next was even more profound- and healing- than me realizing that what is "past true" is not necessarily "present true." My mom began to comfort me and say it was completely okay and understandable, and that I had been a huge help, and didn't need to be upset. Then she said, "Honey, it's okay. I wouldn't have wanted to have me for a mom, either. I was a terrible mother back then."

That was the first time since ATI that I heard my mother openly and clearly admit that she was horrible to me, and was not a good mom. She always said before that she meant well, that she was sorry, but she was doing her best. All true. But to have her just straight up say, with no qualifiers, that she was not a good mom, was healing in a way I couldn't even fathom. She herself was also acknowledging that yes, it was her fault then. She knew it wasn't her fault in the moment, but acknowledged it was, from the past.

Being able to separate past from present truth has been unbelievably helpful in the last few months. Sometimes, people do change. And what is true from the past, isn't necessarily true in the present. It has consequences in the present, sure. But my mom, my past mom, gave me PTSD. That isn't my present mom's fault. Talk about gaining more compassion and grace for someone.

Hopefully, as I move forward in life with PTSD from multiple causes, this can help me. And maybe, it can help someone else too. 

Saying "Yes"

As most of you, if you're reading this, will already know by now, Andy and I got engaged this past Monday, on July 3rd. It wasn't exactly a surprise, but he did manage to surprise me with his exact method of delivery, and his chosen time. But before I go into that, let me back up a bit.

Andy and I met and started dating on February 18th, 2016. Before we had been together a year, we both knew, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that we were getting married. We had started talking about buying a house, and a vague timeline. We started looking, and bought the house we are now in, in March. It was a new build, so we didn't get to move in until June 1st. I had been planning on a big wedding, but by April, I had already met my max stress capacity for the year, and, well, it was only April. But between Violet's health going up and down (another blog post on that, eventually) and finally losing her on April 5th, my 72 year old mother in Cincinnati breaking her hip and then getting pneumonia, my job steadily increasing in stress, my carpal tunnel surgery...I really just wanted to be settled and done. Do a reception after the fact, with less stress. So we decided to get married in August, in the mountains, in a small, immediate family only ceremony. By June, we had decided on the date- August 3rd.

But one small detail, Andy still hadn't asked. Now, I knew he would ask on July 3rd. To make a long story short, I have a history of spoiling his plans to surprise me. We were talking one day, and I said I thought I knew when he was going to ask. We'd been planning on going to see the Reds play the Rockies on the 3rd since the schedule first came out, so I figured it would be then, and he confirmed. I just didn't know when that day he would ask, but it was going to be hard to surprise me, since I was expecting it at any time that day. He still managed to surprise me.

July 2nd, I went out driving for Lyft, and was out late, but told him I would probably come home about midnight. He said he'd wait up, which he does sometimes, so I didn't think anything of it. So around midnight, when I got another ride request, I texted him I was taking it. And the same for the next two.

I finally walked in around 1:30 in the morning, and called out to him that I was home. The first thing I noticed was the candles, and I thought that was a little odd, and then I saw the roses.

And I suddenly realized...this was it. He came down the steps, and I saw him in a tie, while I was a mess in my workout clothes. I said, "Wow, really?" And he came over and gave me a long hug.

He said a few things, about how much he loved me, and what a great time we've had together, and all our plans.

And then he got down on one knee, and asked me to marry him. Of course, I said yes.

I didn't think he would manage to surprise me, but he did just that. What also took me by surprise was the depth of emotion I felt when I realized it was finally happening. I actually started to tear up, just a little.

All I could think was..."This is actually happening. He is actually asking me to marry him." I knew it was coming, but of course, it's totally different when it actually happens. 

I remember thinking it was never going to happen. That no one would ever ask me to marry them. And then my heart got broken, and I thought, I would never put myself in that situation again. But then I did. And I'm so glad I did, because I got Andy. I met someone who was taken with me from the start, and who wasn't scared by the fact that I was still putting myself back together. A couple times, he even held me while I cried about my heartbreak. He listened to me talk about my childhood, my traumas, my health issues, my Autism, and nothing scared him away. 

We have our issues, but we talk about them. I don't question his commitment to me. I can't believe I get to spend the rest of my life with him. But still, it's scary. It's scary not knowing what will happen. It's scary knowing everything that could happen. But I'm not going to let the fear of what might happen keep me from living my life. I did that for so many years. That's the whole point of a cult- to keep people terrified of what might happen if they leave the bubble. If they dare to live their own lives. It's all about being safe. But life isn't safe. Nothing is safe. We can try and insulate ourselves as much as possible, but at some point, something is going to happen. So do we try and minimize the potential, or live? I've chosen to live. And I'm so glad. 

I can't wait to marry him. 

Balancing the Past and Present

Life is a funny thing. It throws us curveballs we could never see coming, and it pushes us as hard as it can sometimes, to see how much we can take. And sometimes, it also drops really great things in our laps unexpectedly. Sometimes, they're just that- really good things- and other times, they're basically the best thing ever at first, but there's a timer ticking away, somewhere deep inside and indetectable, that is going to blow up in spectacular fashion when we least expect it. Then there are the times we have to just go find what we want, and make it happen. Yes, these thoughts are a little jumbled, but hear me out.

I remember July 1, 2015 with stark clarity. The Josh Duggar scandal had broken a few weeks before, and the constant chatter about ATI in everything surrounding me, had severely triggered my PTSD, launching me into a deep depression. The previous weekend had been rough, but I had just gotten a puppy, and by the time I woke up the morning of the 1st, I realized I hadn't felt depressed since I had gotten her. Waking up is rough for me- I tend to be in fairly severe pain, and moving makes it worse for the first couple hours, so I can probably count the number of times in the last 20+ years I have awakened feeling optimistic and like things were going to go really well. This was one of those mornings.

What I didn't know was that there was a bomb ticking away in the amazing relationship I was in, and it was mere hours from exploding all over me. When he came to my house and broke up with me over his lunch break, I went from feeling like I could take on the entire world, to feeling like the entire world had suddenly collapsed on top of me. I will never forget that feeling. I could go on about everything that followed- I have already talked about some of it here- but I'm not going to.

It's funny how healing and processing work. As much as we would like everything to just heal and tie up in a nice, neat, package, that we can then put aside, and move on, the deepest wounds rarely heal that way. I woke up this morning, feeling an incredible emotional weight and pain. And it was really difficult, knowing I'm in an amazing relationship with the man I'm going to marry, and am very happy in it, feeling like that.

But life isn't about a perfectly linear, neat progression. It isn't about tying up all loose ends, and depositing them behind us, never to bother us again. If that were the case, we wouldn't grow as people. Both the good and the bad would have little impact on us as we lived our lives. One of the biggest keys to living a functional and healthy life, is being able to move forward, and find and create stability and happiness, despite the things that we haven't been able to fully work through.

Since that day two years ago, I have built a whole new life for myself. I made a lot happen, rather than waiting for things to get better. I moved to Denver, without a job. I found one, and it turned out to be very different than what I had been promised, so I quit. With the help of a friend, I found another job, where I stayed for just over a year. I also finally put myself into the dating pool, intentionally. I had never done that before. I went out and met people, and went on a few dates, and through that, I met Andy. Things progressed, and we made plans for the future and bought a house, and I quit my full time job, to be able to do a few things part time, in order to be able to better take care of myself and pursue other interests, such as this blog.

Our life is amazing, and I wouldn't trade it for the world. I wish I could just brush off everything else. But that's not how the human mind works. I think the key is figuring out how to acknowledge and work through the pain of the past, without allowing it to harm the present and future. It's a difficult balance to find, but the important thing is continuously working on finding it, despite the inevitable wobbles.

Part of living a Dauntless life is being brave enough to continue to find joy and build the life we want, and being brave enough to confront the past as needed, too. That's what I strive to do, and as long as I do that, I think I'll be just fine. 

Women's March on Washington, Part 4

Well, the March is over. I meant to write another post or two the night of, and in the van on the way home, but to say I was too exhausted would be an understatement. And the pain. Oh, the pain! I actually took Tuesday, the day after I got home, off work, just to sleep and recover.

We had been expecting to march along a specific path, towards the White House, but there were so many people, the entire parade route was actually filled with people. Meaning, no one could move! So, we took an alternate route, instead, turning and walking down the cross streets, and then down towards the White House. As we walked, the streets were packed with people for blocks, both to our right and to our left. I had never seen so many people in my life.

As we walked, we chanted, call and response style: "Tell me what a feminist looks like!" "This is what a feminist looks like!" I loved watching the men, Dan included, yelling along with everyone. There were many, many more chants. Some had to do with the planet, some with religious freedom, some with abortion, many, many issues. It wasn't just about plain equality.

This little girl sat and held that sign up for a really long time, while playing on a tablet with her other hand. It was quite impressive.

This made my historian heart happy- the Declaration of Sentiments from the 1848 Seneca Falls convention on women's rights. We have come far, but not far enough.

You can't see it in any of these photos, but while we were standing in front of the White House, a bunch of National Parks Service people started walking across the White House lawn, and waved at us and gave us the thumbs up. It was awesome!

Now let me say something about this picture, because I have been heavily criticized for posting this on Facebook. I actually didn't intend to get the finger in this picture. I had already framed and started to click, and the finger went up. It really wasn't an issue for me, even though it doesn't directly reflect my own views. I do believe in being respectful in my dissent, at least, as much as possible. I don't believe flipping the bird is necessary. However, I am a historian, and this is something that happened. Yes, part of my reason for being there was to participate in the protest. But also, to be a part of unfolding history, and to document the experience. This was part of the experience, so I didn't see a reason not to include it. Approve or disapprove, that's my opinion, and I stand by it.

By this time, we had been on our feet for hours, and were in varying amounts of pain, and we were HUNGRY, so we decided to try and make our way back to the metro. Along the way, there was a fence where people were leaving their signs, and we left ours there.

On our way back, we had to pass by the White House guard gate, and we got stopped by the Secret Service. We weren't sure why, until the Presidential motorcade came out, driving Trump to the Pentagon where he made his infamous speech that wound up being dubbed by KellyAnne Conway as "alternative facts." Yeah, we saw part of that speech at dinner. Someone asked me how I felt, knowing the President was in one of those cars, passing through. I was in easy view of the windows. I said that I felt justified in coming to Washington. If he looked up, he would have seen me. Me. I wasn't way back in the throng of thousands. I was right there. If the President saw me, at least he knew why I was there. And knowing that maybe the President saw my face, and knew I did not approve. And that's way more than I ever hoped for. In a way, I took my protest directly to the President, and that is pretty amazing.

We also passed a LOT of DC police who were totally chanting with us, cheering us on, shaking hands, and asking people to try on their pink pussy hats and take pictures with the officers' phones. It was pretty great. We never saw anything or heard anything threatening or wildly inappropriate from the protesters. The police even commented on how unbelievably polite and well behaved this giant throng of people was.

The subway was still super crowded on the way back. Well, the station was. We stood for close to another hour before being allowed to go to our platform. The trains themselves weren't as bad, as people went to multiple different ones to go to their different destinations. Again, they pushed us through without paying. I sat on the filthy platform floor for a while until the right train came along.

We got off, and went to get pizza for dinner. It was great to just unwind, have some amazing food, and talk about our day. We went to bed pretty much as soon as we got back to where we were staying.

The next day, we headed back to Indianapolis, and we didn't get back until late. Monday morning, Christi took me and dropped me off outside my aunt Terri's office downtown. Aunt Terri is the youngest of my dad's 13 siblings, and she went to the march in Indianapolis. We went to lunch at a little Greek place, and my cousin Eric joined us. We talked about the march, about the issues, about their perspectives. Eric left, and Aunt Terri took me to the airport, and had a bit of a heart-to-heart on the way. It was really nice. I didn't meet her until I was almost 10, because her husband was in the military, and they were living literally anywhere BUT Cincinnati most of my childhood. When my brother died, she was living in Oklahoma, and they came out for the funeral. That's when I met her. And because I'm one of dozens of nieces and nephews, I only got alone time with maybe two or three of my dad's sisters when I was a kid. Aunt Terri and I hadn't ever had time for just us to talk, and it was awesome.

I got home late that night, and pretty much went straight to bed. Yes, I was in a lot of pain, and I had very much stressed my body. This isn't something that would be advised for the Autistic and chronically ill. I went, because I had to do something. I wasn't going to stay silent. It took a lot out of me, but I would do it again in a heartbeat. I went. I marched. And, in a very real way, I conquered.