Sometimes I forget

Sometimes my life is going so well, and my emotions are so level that I forget I am bi-polar. Sometimes I forget that I'm a raging rollercoaster, and I can snap with nearly no warning.

Then there are times like last night, when I see things that remind me just how brittle my emotions can be. Watching the season premier of House last night made me remember that I've been there.

I've been the one who wasn't allowed sharp scissors during arts and crafts because they were a hazard to my (and other's) health. I've been the one who slept in that hospital bed, with her little booties and standard hospital pajamas. I've been the one who hit rock bottom for no apparent reason.

Sometimes I forget. Then I remember. And sometimes remembering hurts.

Being on the fence

I hate being on the fence. I hate the feeling of knowing the pros and cons of both sides of an issue, and not being able to firmly agree with ONE side. The unsettling feeling of being unsure is horrible.

And so, when it comes to the topic of Brian and I becoming parents, we are... on the fence! There are definite reasons that we do not want to be parents. Unfortunately, there are also definite reasons we do want to be parents. My anxiety stems from the fact that neither side is extremely compelling. Sure, our lives as we know them would change drastically. And of course most of our relationships (including our marriage) would change as well. But to quote my sister, "change is not the enemy". Really, it's not terrible.

I am glad that in regards to this whole topic, Brian and I are on the same page. We both agree that there are plenty of reasons on both the "to have" and "not to have" sides of this issue. And we agree on what those reasons are too. He hit the nail on the head when he said, "It's just that things are easier when they just happen, not when you have to anticipate it constantly." Well said my hot hubby, well said.

On the fence sucks. But I'm happy to be on the same fence with my awesome, sweet, hot husband.

When the going gets tough...

It's been a few weeks since I've thrown my thoughts and feelings out into cyber space. I've been a little reserved when it comes to baring my soul. I guess it's because it was hard enough to admit to myself that I wasn't feeling quite "right", let alone admit it to the interwebs.

But it's true, I have been on the down cycle of my emotions over the last month or so. What started as being in a rut, turned into me being depressed. I forgot to tap into my support system, and let everything that was bothering me grow into a mean and messy monster of emotions. My husband and I became disconnected, and I began secluding myself from having any sort of deep conversation.

I avoided opening up at all costs, and learned to put on a show of functionality. This show didn't last long because I am not someone who deals well with things on my own. It's easier for me to figure things out if I lean on others, and talk things through. Eventually I was confronted by some caring friends, and I had to answer the question, "Are you alright?"

I wasn't alright. I wasn't even fine. I was terrible, lost, lonely, and scared. I had to ask for what I needed most. And asking for emotional support is not easy for me. Looking at someone and admitting I need help takes a lot of courage. To some, it comes easy. But to me, it's painful.

"Things" are better now. Not exactly all taken care of, but better. And every day that I don't hide my feelings from those who love me is a good day. I'm back on the cyber webs, putting myself out there!

What's your Chicken Piccata?

When I was a teenager I had a picture of what a wife looked like. This picture was NOTHING like the wife that was also my mother. The picture I had of a wife was pretty, nice, welcoming, clean, and most importantly could cook. My picture especially involved that one signature meal that would knock the socks off any guest, but more importantly would rock my husband's world.

For a long, long time I put that picture away. I especially let go of the idea a signature meal as I wasn't confident in my cooking abilities. I was a single girl who quit college, worked as a waitress, and ate at Mickey's Diner at 3:30am most mornings. Cooking wasn't fun, or needed. And creating a signature dish wasn't necessary either.

Then I started to grow up. I started dating Brian, started to settle down, went back to college, got my first Corporate America job, and eventually got married. I was a wife. Oh shit! Where's that picture I had in my head??? I should probably review it!

I started cooking for my husband and he (along with my wonderful Sissy) convinced me that I am in fact a great cook. I started experimenting, and got creative. I found recipes that looked wonderful and tried them out.

Along the lines I found Chicken Piccata. Fried chicken in a lemon caper sauce over noodles. Uh, hello... what is not to love here? I found my signature dish. I found something that I can cook for guests or for my own family and it will please them. It's a dish that says to my husband, "I love you so much that I am making my best just for you."

Chicken Piccata is my peace offering, my welcome mat, my best first impression. It's how I wow people, and make them feel comfortable in my home. Do you have a Chicken Piccata? Do you have that signature dish?

Turns out...

I constantly learn things about myself. It's strange to say that considering I am me, and I should know who I am better than anyone else, right?! But it's true, it seems that nearly every day I learn something about myself.

Over the last couple of weeks I have learned two new things. Turns out that I A.) am a cheerleader and B.) enjoy walking.

A. I've played softball and volleyball for about as long as I can remember. I've never been exceptional at these two sports, but I've always enjoyed playing. I always give it my best, and my all.

But it turns out that I, Lisa Elizabeth McIntyre, am a CHEERLEADER!!! I LOVE cheering people on! I love the encouragement, the positive words, and the excitement. I love giving people I love the extra verbal boost they need.

I love making signs for people when they are competing in races. I love wearing feather boas and being excited. I love cheering!

B. Holy smokes, I hate running. It's exhausting, and sweaty, and nasty. But holy smokes, I LOVE walking! It's exhaustingly refreshing! It's an accomplished sweaty-ness! And it's a nasty addiction! I've only been power walking for about a week now, but I'm in love.

I especially love walking during the day. I love getting out of my stuffy office to get some sun on my face. I love breathing in the fresh air. I love cranking up the tunes and forgetting about my cube for a while. It's awesome!

I like learning about myself. And it turns out, I'm liking myself more and more as I get to know myself better.

Honesty: the best policy

Telling the truth can be easy, hard, scary, helpful, and sometimes it can even be healing. Tonight I was able to tell the truth about something that in the end made me feel very whole and a bit healed.

I was approached by an old family acquaintance tonight after playing a game of volleyball. As I was giving the quick "this is where my life has gone over the past 10 years" speech I could feel that one subject would be sure to come up. And it did. Below is the conversation we had. I'll call this woman Shelly for sake of anonymity.

Shelly: Well, it was nice to see you. Tell your mom I said, "Hi".

Me: oh, uh, okay.

Shelly: Oh, don't you talk to your mom?

Me: Uh, (and this is where I'm hit in the head with confidence) no. No, I don't talk to her.

Shelly: Oh, really?! Well, is she okay, are your parents still together?

Me: Yeah, I think so. I think they are still in Buffalo. I really don't have a relationship with them. I finally decided that enough was enough. It was too toxic.

Shelly: Oh. Hmm, well, how is your sister?

Me: Great! She and her husband are raising their 3 kids in Shakopee.

Shelly: Well, does she talk to your mom?

Me: No. Some terrible things have happened in recent years that caused us to make a break from that relationship. My mom has some mental issues, sicknesses that she doesn't address. She doesn't take care of herself, and is very toxic.

Shelly: Yeah! She and Suzy were always a couple of nutcases.

And this is where we move out of the subject and back into less heavy conversation. But it got me thinking about how good it felt to tell the truth. It was quite a weight lifted from my shoulders to not lie about my lack of relationship with my parents. And it felt even better to be open about why there isn't a relationship there. I don't have to lie to protect them. Her illness is not my fault, nor is it my responsibility.

It hasn't been, and isn't always, easy to not have my parents in my life. I miss my Dad at times. He and I were always close. I miss celebrating with him, and his advice.

And I certainly miss the mom I could have had. I miss the mother figure that would have been my friend and not my enemy. The mother who would have shared things with me, instead of selfishly ruining events. I miss the mother who wouldn't compete against me. I miss the mother who could have taught me life lessons on how to really love, and how to be a good friend. The mother who could answer any question I had about life, and one who would be proud of me. I miss something I never had.

But tonight it was healing for me to tell the truth. Tonight, honesty was by far the best policy.

My Security Blanket(s)

My sister and her family picked Brian and I up from the airport a week ago. I had been missing her so much, even though we both texted, called, and emailed the entire time I was away. We were in constant communication, but there was something about being gone that made my heart hurt.

A few days after being home I figured out what was making me hurt. I didn't have one of my oldest and most reliable security blankets with me on my trip. I figured out that my sister is my security net! I feel safe, warm, calm, and level headed when I know that she is near. My heart and mind are at ease when I know that if I really, really needed my sister all I'd have to do is pick up the phone and tell her to come be with me. And within 30 minutes of that phone call she'd be there.

It makes me feel at ease to know that she's only a phone call and 30 minutes away. I am comforted by the fact that she'd drop anything and she'd be with me. Now this isn't something that I test from time to time, because I'm not that sister who cries wolf. But I know it to be true because we both have done it for each other in the past.

Kimberly is just one of my security blankets. I also feel most calm when Brian is home with me. When we cook together and relax, I feel like I could take on anything. He is truly my rock, my other half, my soul mate. He calms me down, and excites me. He makes me laugh, and takes care of me when I cry. Brian is my slow and steady. He is my newest security blanket.

When my sister got out of her van to help us with our luggage I dropped my bags and ran to her arms. I squealed with delight and had tears in my eyes when I was in her embrace. Coming home felt so good. And I once again felt secure.