Aging Gracefully

Confession - I have dealt with acne since high school. The only blessing about it was that it was on my back and chest. Easy to hide. I may not have loved my senior prom dress but that sucker covered me up the way I required. My senior year of college I finally went on Accutane - a terrifying medication that is not only unpleasant to take but comes with horrifying side effects that include alien babies, mood swings, and constant chapped lips. Awful though it was, it worked. I was free at last! Free at last!

Until I turned 30. It was as though my skin had received a memo - time to screw with Erin! Yup, it came back. Not nearly as severe or painful but this time...it was on my face. Well, my jaw lines. I have been fighting it ever since, finally breaking down and buying Proactive which, to my delight, worked quite well! Alas, post-acne scarring and discoloration is something I was unable to solve on my own.

Enter Groupon. There was a deal for a facial that looked pretty good so I went for it. That is how I met Sandra Downie. She is a kick-ass, take no prisoners, medical grade specialist. She also so happens to be incredibly nice and easy to work with.

Just a side note - I think I may have spent too much time in spas because I basically shuck my clothes for any treatment. It's just been ground into me that when you're having a service done they want you to be as accessible as possible. So...I hopped up onto the table and got under the blankets. Poor Sandra. When she came back in she was shocked, amused, and confused. Apparently that piece of cloth laying at the end of the table was a little spa dress thingie. Used to maintain modesty and stuff.

Oh we had a good giggle over that one.

Yesterday I returned for my silk peel. I must say, I was basically clueless as to what Microdermabrasion is. I liked the way it sounded and Sandra said it would be amazing for my skin. Has anyone else done this treatment?

I had no idea the power she was about to unleash on my face. It was awesome. Painful? Meh, a little. Basically, she has a tiny vaccuum (a tiny Dyson, not a wimpy little Dustbuster) to suck out anything and everything in it's path. It felt weird yet satisfying. Like I had super strong lines of tape on my face that she was pulling off.  This is the difference between getting a regular fluffy spa facial,and calling in the National Guard after a skin related natural disaster. Not soft and delicate pampering, but all business, no nonsense face fixing.

Sandra's motto: If you're going to live it up, you've got to Glam it up!

I'm not super glamorous but I do love glowing, scar-free skin!

This is Sandra Downie - go like her Facebook page! Go now! She can help you!

I have Nothing Nice to Say

I know I'm not the only one who has to deal with crippling ineptitude on the part of outside agencies. I'm sure everyone has to deal with some form of idiocy with their jobs. It's inevitable. But seriously? DCF (Child Protective Services in CT) has to be the worst agency on the planet.

I practically gift-wrapped a child abuse case for them. Seriously had records from the day the kid revealed the abuse up to present day. There is a 0% chance that this abuse didn't happen. The abuse was perpetuated by a family member who has a slew of other complaints from other parents and children.

Gift.
Effing.
Wrapped.

Except, DCF, in all their wisdom, failed to provide state police with the evidence. Apparently they told police there was no evidence. Which is funny because I provided it. I gave everything I had to DCF and the state police  like an intelligent, professional person who actually cares about justice being done. Somehow they either lost whatever they had or they just didn't do their job. I suspect both.

My hatred for this agency is bubbling over. They have caused so much pain and unnecessary trauma to so many of my clients and, by proxy, me. I was taught as a child to trust authority figures and respect them. This case and several others like that have displayed time and time again DCF's complete inability to work with other professionals. They simply take whatever information they want, systematically belittle and attempt to discredit anyone who disagrees with them, and make all their own rules. I have seen children illegally taken from their parent by DCF after DCF lost in court. They went ahead, lied to the parents, took the kids. All without a single court order. And have destroyed at least three lives because of it.

I really hope this is true.

Where are the watchdogs whose sole purpose is to make DCF play by the rules? Why do they get to do whatever they want with total immunity? Why do they allow workers in the field, in direct service with families and children, without actual clinical, psychological training? I hate to say it but there are a lot of people working for DCF - a state agency that pays really, really, well - who have no business at all working with these families.

Ulcer creation at its finest.

Veterans Day

Dear Veterans Day,

Thank you for the reminder you bring to those of us sitting safely stateside in our living rooms. For many folks, this is a day off and if we so happen to remember what it's for, more's the better. Thank you for reminding us that today is for the little guy. The soldiers who are away from their families be they stateside or overseas. The men and women who choose to serve their country even if the job itself is less than glamorous.

Not all soldiers are fighters. Not all soldiers carry guns.

Today, take some time and think about the immensity of the job our military has to do. Feeding thousands of soldiers, making sure the garbage is taken out, that the facility is in good working order, and the essentials - food, clothing, and shelter, are provided even when they are meager to nonexistent.

Think about the mechanics, engineers, IT professionals, electricians, and plumbers. Think about administrative office and legal staff - the paper pushers who make sure orders are filled, people get paid, wills get written, and health insurance coverage is ensured for the soldier and the family back home.

Remember the medics, nurses, and doctors working to save lives. Think about the guy who unloads the helicopters when they are full of injured or dead. Think about the person who changes the sheets when they are soaked in blood from the hurt and dying. Think about the folks doing the masses of laundry.

Give thanks for the USO who brings entertainment and love from home. Give thanks for the personnel who volunteer to work with the USO and take on the extra work it takes to help keep morale high.

Most of all today, give thanks for these people - they are keeping you safe no matter what their role may be. Not everyone is meant for the front lines. No matter how large or small the job may seem, our military personnel are working 24 hours a day, 7 days a week, 365 days of the year. Every day should be Veterans Day.

VOTE!

Between the 20 emails a day the Obama team sends me and the 200 political ads and arguments I see every day on Facebook, not to mention the onslaught of television ads, I think it's safe to say everyone will be glad when this election is over. (And yes, I am crossing my fingers and toes and imploring the baby Jesus to make sure Obama wins because I suspect Romney is a robot and the root of all evil. That's not what this is about though.)

The one thing about any election that drives me crazy is those who say, "I don't vote. That's my political statement. I hate both candidates so I'm exercising my right NOT to vote."

I know this is going to rub people the wrong way but...that's a cop out. It makes you sound like a little kid who's been told to pick between broccoli and peas. You don't like either choice so you plant your feet in the mud and refuse to budge. But mom says you can't get up from the table until you eat one.
Well...shit. That sucks. You vow to sit there all night.

Then you look over and see everybody else relaxing after dinner. They're enjoying some TV and maybe even some ice cream. But there you sit. Resolute.

Eventually, you will make a choice. And that choice may come from logic or it may come from emotion. Either way, you're getting the hell outta the kitchen. You're going to eat those peas or choke down that broccoli. Maybe if you put a little thought into it, you'd find out you don't actually hate peas. When forced to choose between the two, peas are apparently your best option. Peas it is then. Dinner (and voting) over. Time for Sponge Bob.

Only...in that situation...the only person you're impacting is yourself. That's why we don't let little kids vote. As an adult, however, what you do - or don't do - impacts everyone around you. That is the single-most important thing you can teach your children.

People have fought - and died - for your right to vote. If voting wasn't such a big deal, why would there be so many people fighting to stop you from doing it right now? Why would there have been a Constitutional Amendment granting women and people of color the right to vote? Why were there riots and imprisonments and laws passed to stop anyone voting in the first place?
Why do I see photos of giant lines for early voting? Why the fuss about the Republicans trying to pass voter identification laws that directly impact our most vulnerable members of society - the elderly, the poor, the any other color but snowy white?

Seriously folks, get out there and do your civic duty. Take an interest even if it's only for one day, in who is representing you - not just in the White House, but locally. If you don't vote, you don't get to complain. Don't like the results? Too bad. You have disempowered yourself. You're free to do that because of the thousands upon thousands who fought for your freedom to be apathetic.

If nothing else, voting allows you to participate in something bigger than yourself. It reminds you that you are not alone. You are not the only one thinking what you're thinking and feeling what you're feeling. You have brothers and sisters in the same, exact boat looking for the same, exact thing. You just so happened to be born in a country the rest of the world wants to be a part of.

You're an American and you should be grateful for the opportunity to participate. Maybe it's because of my exposure to the war in Iraq. Being a real military spouse with a loved one in a war zone is something you can only understand when you've lived it.  Maybe it's having a veteran of the Korean War for a father.  I know I look at things differently because of those truths. But I wouldn't change that for the world. Being an American has actual meaning for me and if you're thinking that voting doesn't matter, maybe you should ask yourself what it means to you.

Fancy speak for putting one's feet in the mud.

Erin - 1, TD Garden - 0

It's like I have two people living inside me. The fun Erin who loves going to basketball games and concerts and being with people. Who lives in the moment and absorbs the energy of an excited crowd like a sponge. Who really loves being a part of something larger than myself with every fiber of my being.
Then there's the other Erin who is still riddled with anxiety even though I now have it under control. I'm not going to have a panic attack, but that doesn't mean I feel great and can stay fully present at all times when I'm put to the test.

I gave myself a big test yesterday. Jacob texted me early in the afternoon and said the Celtics were having their season opener tonight and would I want to go? Of COURSE I want to go! I love basketball games and the Celtics are my fave pro team! Kevin Garnett! Live and huge and in person! (And yes, he's even larger in real life!) Jacob wanted to take the plunge. He stumbled on incredible seats for a great price on Craigslist. Third row, center court, right behind where the announcers do their thing. Amazing. I'd never been to a professional athletic event before. I grew up on UConn mens basketball and developed a love of the game, the players, the spectacle, the crowd, the whole shebang. Love it.

However, being the Panic Queen of the Universe has kind of limited my access to it for many years. The TD Garden in Boston is one of my "hot spots" - a place I have attempted to go in the past but was unable due to crippling panic. Years ago, when Jacob and I first got together we decided to take a mini trip to Boston to do some sight seeing and go to a Bruins game. He is a huge Bruins fan but had never been to a game. He was beyond excited and honestly, so was I.

There we were, barely dating a month, but already a unit. He had splurged big time and gotten the Bobby Orr seats which, if I remember, come complete with a lap dance from Claude, the Canadian coach, and a Zamboni ride. However, that day, a water pipe had burst, flooding the train station beneath the Garden and condensing the crowd, creating for me, a feel of things not being safe. We had gotten there very early and unfortunately, that's my red zone. The time leading up to an event is my absolute worst for panic. What happened next was quite possibly the largest panic attack I had ever had. I was convinced I wasn't safe, I was going to die, Jacob was going to hate me and dump me, I was going to throw up. Diarrhea rocked my body as cold sweats and hot flashes slammed through me and even after spending 20 minutes outside in the car, I could not, would not, go back in there. Jacob was furious. He didn't know me fully at the time. He didn't know what to do. He was scared and disappointed and rightfully so.

He did, however, drive me home. He didn't break up with me despite certainly considering it after seeing the truth of my crazy. Was he upset? Yes. Apparently, however, it wasn't a deal breaker. Something that should have comforted me, and it did, but it also terrified me because what if this happened again? He's a social guy. He loves going places and doing things. Sporting events are his crack. The man loves it. What guy wants to be with a girl who can't go to anything with him?

Anyway, clearly, we worked things out what with getting married and everything. The TD Garden, however, remained my Everest.

Last night, I conquered it. Mostly. I even had the complication of having eaten a bad bagel earlier in the day and seriously feeling like crap.

BUT survived the 90-minute drive and the epic traffic that made us miss the entire first quarter and all the cool stuff leading up to tip off. Survived the game despite the fact they played like crap. Enjoyed seeing David Ortiz about 20 feet away from me the entire game as he sat on the sidelines. Really enjoyed the time-outs when they play music and put people on the big screen. Seeing people absolutely filled with joy, dancing like fools, dressing up in crazy costumes, that was awesome.

I'm not 100%. I'm not dying to go back to the TD Garden. But I am thrilled I went there, had fun, spent time with my hubby, and did something even a year ago,  I never thought I could do. It's a marathon, not a sprint when you're an anxiety and panic sufferer. This stuff doesn't go away overnight. Living actual, concrete proof last night that I can do it, I will continue to face my fears, I will not be kept in a box by my anxiety is precious to me. I have every right to live my life. I deserve to be free and I intend to fight for that right without end. Because at the end of day, it's really me I'm fighting for. And I am worth it.

Hey Paul Pierce! You're RIGHT THERE!

Amazing seats, I totally felt like a celebrity!