Green

This week is Mental Health Awareness Week. And of course you know, this is a cause that's near and dear to my heart. The problem is, I still don't feel comfortable talking about mental health in public. No one would fault me for breast cancer, but bipolar disorder is a whole nother story. There's those judgey eyes and the "don't leave her alone with the kids" look on faces immediately. Because mental health has a stigma, an icky stigma. And to be bipolar, I must be entirely, out-of-my-mind nuts.

I have come to terms with the judgement from people. People suck, but the bipolar isn't going away. I'm medicated and stable right now. There are times where I won't be stable, but the good news is that any episode I have had has not made me want to harm myself or others. Now I am stable. Most people wouldn't know I was mentally ill unless I told them, and even then, they still might not believe me.

But now I'm applying for jobs like mad. I'm finishing grad school and trying to get out of this place. On to bigger and better things. If you've applied for jobs recently, you may be familiar with the self-disclosure of disability form that most employers are now requiring. It is currently giving me a lot of grief. Bipolar disorder is classified as a disability. I'm registered with the office of disabilities here just in case I need that declaration. My bipolar does not affect my professional life. I've taken two mental health days in my career and that was when I was stupid and didn't want to take my meds. But I never miss deadlines (unless self-imposed and not held to), I show up to work, I do my work, and I get results. Yet on this declaration, I cannot click "no" for fear of people finding out and the idea of lying to a potential employer. The other options are "yes" and "I choose not to answer", which, in my opinion, is pretty much yes. Historically, I go about 50% on which one I choose. But now I think it's time for me to just click "yes." The other option feels like I'm hiding something, and I've got nothing to hide. I'm a member of the green crew. I endure mental illness. I have a disability. But that won't stop me from doing anything.

I ran. The Whole Time

For those of you who may have read previous entries, you know that I've been working on losing weight and improving my life. For those of you who haven't read previous posts, I'm about three months recommitted to WeightWatchers and things are going alright. About a month ago, I decided to sign up for the Color Run. And then I started up with the Couchto5K app and I put on my running shoes and started training.

To give you a little background, I have had 2 reconstructive surgeries on my right ankle after dislocating it in club soccer in high school. I have a few pins in my ankle, and after the second surgery, my doctor didn't want me to run. The pins are focused in a small area, which creates a "weaked" zone prime for fracturing. I learned this the hard way when I actually did fracture between pins a few months after the second surgery.

Nevertheless, I decided to SLOWLY get back into the habit of running. And my first race was the Color Run. See us before.

Another before picture. Taken on my phone through a plastic bag (to keep my phone safe from the color)

And the after. So much fun. 

See the blue splotch under my nose? Yeah. My boogers are still blue.

And when dosed in color, I cannot make normal faces, but here's a close-up of what my face looked like in the car on the way home.

Even our burrito got into the color run spirit by licking my legs post-race. She's rocking the green in her beard.

That's it. The End. Next race this weekend.

In defense of my 14-year-old self

Yesterday was a day right out of Alexander's book- a no good, very bad day.

It started off with one of the larger fears of Crohn's patients becoming reality. The day the bathroom down the hall was just too far away. At work. Not good.

So to procrastinate after fixing that problem, I looked at Facebook, like a good millennial. And at the very top I see a friend post a link to a blog post with the comment "You don't want to miss this one." This friend and I used to be very close at the start of high school, then she wouldn't speak to me, and now we are, sadly, mostly acquaintances. This friend has struggled with mental illness since high school (which led to the not speaking thing) and has recently taken a dive into the blog world about her journey. Here you might say, "but Stella, isn't it good that someone who also struggles with mental illness is posting her story? Can't you relate?" And my answer is yes. Yes I can relate. A little too much. And not for the reasons you think.

So you should go here and read the post first: The First Cut is the Deepest.

So let me start out by saying that after reading this post, I felt like someone had ripped out my heart, put it in a blender, and then just threw the remaining chunks into my empty chest cavity. You see, this friend-- this insensitive, awful, inattentive friend-- that's me. I sent it to a friend to read without divulging the information of who anyone was in this case. And her response "What an awful friend". I sent it to Sel because it really impacted my day. He said that I was a bad friend in high school. So this post is written in defense of my 14-year-old self.

Imagine for a moment, that you have this best friend. And you're both just starting high school and trying to figure yourself out. Imagine that in History class with Mr. Mistina, you get passed a note during a thrilling story of elephants and airplanes and the war. You open the note, and in it you find messages of despair, self-hatred, talk of suicide. And now imagine that note came from your best friend.

During our car ride home, I asked Sel what he would do at 14 if a friend gave him such a note. He responded (as if it was a stupid question with an easy answer) "I'd tell an adult." Maybe it is easy for most people when they aren't in the situation. When they aren't navigating high school and they aren't struggling to stay above water in an abusive home situation, and when said person doesn't try to cling to the only things in the world they have control over with everything said person has. But I was trying to find myself in high school and establish the right friend groups, and I was afraid to go home every day because of the beatings I would surely receive for less than mediocre reasons, and I was trying to keep the trust of a friend that I had made. We both had Lithuanian heritage, we liked sports, and we lived not too far away from each other. So when I got those notes, I didn't know how to respond. Was she being melodramatic? Was this the teenage angst I had heard of? And I feel like I should also mention that despite being a child (merely 14), as a victim of domestic violence, I had very little self-esteem and was struggling which (clear to me now) were the beginnings of my own struggle with mental illness.

Truthfully, I don't remember much from the night that my friend talks about. 13 years ago I was boy crazy. Who knows who that boy would be. And I don't really recall long involved conversation with whatever boy held my interest  at the time. But regardless of the length of a phone call, I would like to think that I at least had some sort of tact. But I also know that when you NEED someone to pay attention to you, ten minutes can feel like an eternity.

What I do remember from the night is "Paperclips are sharp." That phrase still haunts me. I can't look at a paperclip without thinking of my former best friend trying to carve out her flesh with one, which is the reason I very infrequently use paper clips. And it wasn't too long after this event that the secret letters ended up with the guidance counselor and her parents. It took that moment to realize just how ill-equipped I was as a 14-year-old to handle the situation.

So as bad of a friend as I come off as in that blog post, I did love her. I still do. And even though we aren't really best friends anymore, I'll take that. Because she is alive. She is blogging today.

So to my friend, I'm sorry that I wasn't the friend you wanted me to be at 14. I was not on solid ground myself. I was stupid, and trying to make sense of what was going on around me in an environment that didn't make sense.

And to all of you readers, if you know someone is struggling, pay attention. Their call for help may be as simple as a shiny paperclip. I know I will forever be haunted by that statement. It serves as a reminder to when I failed as a friend...

The Mane Event

*** NOTE *** 

I have been trying to write this post for like 2 weeks. My life has been crazy. And now for the post...

Lately, I've been traveling outside my comfort zone and trying out new things... like make up. But really, I care most about my hair. I have a hereditary form of alopecia areata, so I'm accustomed to my hair randomly falling out in chunks and/or random bald patches. The hair within these patches doesn't grow back on it's own, so I have to go through steroid injections to stimulate the follicles and grow the hair back. Because I periodically lose some of my precious hair, I'm that much more attached to it. Junior year of college, I had a brilliant idea. I was going to get my hair dyed blonde. For those of you who don't know, I have dark hair. So when I say dye my hair blonde, I really mean strip the color from it. So I did. And then after undergrad I went back to dark brown-- until half-way through my first year of grad school, when I cut off all the previously processed hair and stripped away the color again. Two years ago, I decided to stop stripping and start saving my precious locks. To save myself from the yin-yang like grow out, I dyed my hair all one color-- dark brown with warm, reddish tones (close to my natural color). It was great, until the damaged, highly processed hair leached the color because it was just so damaged.

Flash forward to now, when I have totally natural, unprocessed growth for 1.5 years (yay!). The bottom few inches of my hair are significantly lighter. Color won't stay in the damaged hair- I stopped wasting my time and money trying. But I just tell people I'm growing my hair out and they seem to understand. To try and keep my ends from being anything but straw, I started squirting a coconut-oil based product focusing on the ends. When my mom found raw virgin coconut oil at Costco in giant containers (two HUGE containers for about $20), I may have squeed. Coconut oil is to me what Frank's hot sauce is to the granny in the Frank's commercial. I put it on everything.

Today, I share with you, my coconut oil deep conditioning treatment.

I start off using virgin organic coconut oil. It's not because I'm huge on organic. (I'm a chemist-y like person, I'm not afraid of chemicals. That whole, don't use it if you can't pronounce it thing... doesn't fly with me.) Honestly, it's because it was a lot of stuff for not a lot of price. So I work it through my WHOLE head (yes... even the roots), but I focus on the ends.

Once I have thoroughly saturated my hair in coconut oil, I twist my hair up in a clip. To give some extra warmth to open the cuticle, I heat a wet hand towel in the microwave and place it on top of the head. Then, I tie a plastic grocery bag around my head and finish with a clean t-shirt. I look like a goof, but it seals in the heat. I usually leave it like this for 3 hours.

Once done, I take off the layers and wash my hair really good. From what I've read, they suggest conditioning to make sure to get rid of all coconut oil. I use Organix brand hydrating teatree mint shampoo (green bottle),  Organix coconut milk conditioner, and post-wash apply some Coconut milk coconut oil (this is not pure coconut oil) to the ends.

And since I'm talking about my hair stuff, I'll also talk about the beauty products I've been using. I use Too Faced Beauty Balm as my foundation, Tarte Smooth Operator finishing powder (gold leaf top), Tarte Amazonian Clay 12-hr blush in Captivating (pinkish compact), Fresh Sugar Lip Polish, and Mary Kay mascara.

Here's the finished product: conditioned hair and make-up.

Oh yeah, and I finished with some C.O. Bigelow Mentha Lip Shine. Sometimes I use color, by way of Tarte LipSurgence power pigment in true love.

And, there you go! 

Congratulations and Blessings-- All in one weekend

So now that I've said my peace about the sad stuff, I actually want to write my happy post about the wonderful weekend that was last weekend. On Friday, Sel and I traveled to the lovely homestate to drop off the dogs and to enjoy a fantastic (but oh! too much food!) at the Melting Pot. I've heard so much about this restaurant and I've always wanted to go. But 1. I'm a grad student and therefore have no money. and 2. There are no Melting Pots nearby to our school. My future MIL took care of problem number one with a very generous gift card last Christmas, and number two was taken care of by being in homestate, albeit temporarily.

The food was fantastic. I didn't log it. I wouldn't have even known where to start. And I'm pretty sure the app would have just put up a message that says "You Lose." We did all four courses: cheese, salad, entree, and chocolate fondue. Since I'm a vegetarian-when-I-feel-like-it (a truly technical term), I went with the vegetarian option. True story: I love me some vegetables. And we did a dark chocolate caramel fondue for dessert. Delicious.

After spending the night in my twin size bed in my old bedroom in homestate, we packed up the car, said goodbye to the dogs, and drove to Milwaukee. Ugh, the construction. But it was worth it because once we got there, I had a hot date with Sel and my friend D. I love when weddings are mini college reunions because it's fantastic. Sel, D, and I went to Qdoba. E rants about Q-dob. This was my first experience and based on this one data point, I'm not really planning on going back anytime soon. The food wasn't bad, it just wasn't as good as Chipotle in my eyes (Sorry, E. I tried.).

After Q-dob, we I put on my fancy clothes and we drove to a church in the boonies and watched Face get married. Then we got drinks at a bar. in a barn. Shooters is totally cool by me. I tried Tippy Cow for the first time and the orange cream actually tastes like a dreamsicle. Then we got ready to party like it was 2009 and we were still in college at the reception. We toasted the newlyweds, danced, and reunited (evidence shown below).

Seriously, the wedding was so much fun. Can we do it again this weekend? Just kidding. Just remembered that I'm grad student broke.

On Sunday, we woke up, drove back to homestate, and Sel and I got to witness the baptism of Baby V (Clo's little girl). I loved being with Clo and her family. It's great to be in a place where you feel like you belong (unlike my feeling with my colleagues at work). I miss Clo more than I ever thought I would, and watching V grow in between visits makes me want to be in homestate more than ever. Luckily, I convinced my advisor to allow me to go to a meeting in homestate in September. So I'll get to see Clo and V again. I love that little one so much. And I'm so happy she's a "soldier for God" as her lovely godmother put it. Being in homestate, even for a short time, kind of makes me want to pursue post-grad opportunities there. We'll see. It's funny how a little love can make you never want to leave/want to go back.

So sorry for the double post, but I wanted to share some happiness after sadness.

In light of recent events... Acknowledging the Elephant in the Room

I was going to write this super happy post today about my weekend. I attended the wedding of a college roommate and the baptism of my best friend's baby. I would have done it yesterday, but yesterday was a bad day. I was under the weather (and exhausted from being up since 3 am being under the weather), I spilled water on my computer very shortly after I arrived at work-- and that was just the start. Yesterday was a no good, very bad day for me. When Sel (knowing that I was not feeling well and that I was having a bad day) told me that we should go golfing, I told him we could because I didn't want to deal with any of his disdain for what I wanted to do- put on comfy clothes, curl up on the couch, and take a nap while watching T.V.  I am an awful golfer (and though Sel has us playing all the freaking time) who is not getting any less awful. It's frustrating and I just end up getting mad and then Sel makes a comment and I get mad at him too... and it's all down hill from there. Which is exactly what happened yesterday. I was ready to chuck my clubs into the river (conveniently lining every single hole of that golf course), but somehow I survived all through 9 holes.

And then I checked my phone.

And twitter had informed me of what most of you know. Robin Williams, 63, was found dead in his California home. A little internet hunting on the way to the grocery store, and I found that it was a suspected suicide. Which was confirmed today. The man who had made so many laugh actually ended his own life. And now my face book is littered with status RIP-ing the Genie, and telling people that if they need help, they can talk to them, and listing suicide hotline numbers. Maybe these people think they are being sincere, and maybe they are, but I have to wonder why it took so long for these people to say anything.

Robin Williams was a fantastic actor. He was funny, and I enjoyed his movies. I cannot speak about the content of his character, but I like to think that he was also a pretty cool guy. He struggled with addiction, but got help when he watched addiction kill a friend of his. And again when he relapsed. Robin Williams certainly knew how to ask for help. Because he had done it in the past. At least when it came to drugs. Drugs are pretty much expected in Hollywood these days. We are not shocked when a star or starlet winds up in rehab. I find it sad and kind of appalling that we live in a world where it's commonplace to see stars end up with addiction, but it's taboo to speak about their mental health. And also to think that because Robin Williams had money and a family and a dog that somehow he should be unafflicted by mental illness. by depression. by suicide.

In 2002, I got a frantic call from one of my aunts on my mom's side. She wanted to talk to my mom, but my mom was at work. So she asked for my dad. My dad picked up on his line but I didn't hang up on mine because I knew it was going to be something big and my father was notoriously bad at following directions when it was not something to benefit him. And that's when I heard four words among sobs: Little Tommy killed himself. I can still hear the sobs in her voice and the way she said those words and it's been 12.5 years since that day. I was shattered. I had become one of those people who was left behind in that instant. At one point, I was told by my family members that he didn't deserve my sadness. That he made the choice. That he was weak. But I'm still sad, and even though we weren't close, I still miss him. And a few years ago when my diagnosis of bipolar came, there was that familiar pang and hearing those words. Little Tommy was thought to be bipolar as well.

Little Tommy was not rich, but he did have a family. His story didn't make the news. No one posted suicide hotline information on myspace. He wasn't big enough. Known enough. Yet, mental illness won. It also won with Robin Williams. Mental illness doesn't care how much money you make. It's just like cancer, heart attacks, diabetes. It doesn't discriminate by class or race or gender. And left untreated, it can be deadly. So to the family and friends of Robin- it's okay to grieve, even if you think he was being selfish (he wasn't). You can be angry too, but I hope you still love him compassionately.

Here is my public service announcement. Can we stop making mental health taboo? Can we not label those who seek help as weak? Because if we're going to give people a hell of a time for trying to get help, then we shouldn't be angry when they take matters into their own hands. And can we please, please, please stop saying colloquially "I'm going to kill myself." "Go kill yourself." and the like. It's easy to miss the cry for help.

I read an article this morning about a girl who posted online that she was going to kill herself on a certain date. No one said anything. And then she tried to kill herself. I know it's not easy to be the "tattletale", but if someone says they are going to kill his- or herself, then it is time to take it seriously. It may not be the popular decision. You may lose a friend. I know because I've been there too. And seriously- don't ask someone why they are depressed. That's not how depression works. Take care of each other and yourselves. You are loved. You are worth loving. Even when it doesn't feel like it.

Weigh-In Tuesday: 7/29

I've mentioned on here before that I'm changing my lifestyle and trying to lose weight with Weight Watchers. I realize I don't really need to defend exactly why I want to lose weight, but I want to share. The automatic assumption is that I'm trying to lose weight because I'm getting married. Well I'm not getting married for over two years- and no, I don't just have that little faith in my ability to lose weight. Honestly, if I were losing weight for a wedding, I would start fairly close to wedding time because as hard as it is to lose weight, it's even harder to keep it off. Which is why, when deciding what I was going to do, I decided I want to change my lifestyle. I didn't want to diet.

I'm pretty sure diet is from Latin meaning an impermanent change in food that causes weight loss but ultimately leads to gaining more weight in the future. Okay, so maybe I'm not really up to date with my Latin (or etymology, or whatever the heck it's called). But the thing about diets is: they end. And from my experience, dieting usually results in me gaining all the weight back the second I stop. and then some. and then a little more.

So really what I want to do is change my relationship with food- how I think about it, what I put into my body, and how much crosses the threshold of my lips. I'm a scientist, and as a scientist, I like to use scientific speak. Those calories your talking about being in your food, well they are actually Calories with a capital "C". The word calorie with a little "c" refers to the amount of energy you have to add to a system to to raise the temperature of 1 g of water 1 degree Celsius, which is defined as 4.1868 Joules (J). You learned about joules when you learned about energy.  It takes 1,000 little "c" calories to make up 1 big "C" Calorie. But really calories are just energy-- the energy that fuels our hearts to pump, our minds to think, and a proclaimer to walk 500 miles (and maybe 500 more). In science/engineering, efficiency is a big thing. We want what we get out of a system to be close to what we put into a system. I was being very inefficient. I was putting in way more energy than I needed and outputting very little work.

So I changed. And by tracking my food and making mindful choices, I have turned my body into a more efficient machine. And on Weight Watchers, I can eat that chocolate sundae if I want to. I just need to make other choices during the day/week/month to allow for that. It's balancing a budget. I have a limited income. I cannot buy the Prada purse and the designer shoes in the same pay period. But if I buy the Prada purse, I have to make sacrifices. No designer shoes, no coffee from Starbucks or Biggby this month. So it's the same with my lifestyle. I'm balancing a budget-- of food/calories/nutrition instead of dolla dolla bills. However, I'm hoping my handle over food with transfer to my budgeting skills with money. That budget is tighter than I'd like.

And, because I like accountability, I'd like to let you know that in the past week, I had a loss of 3.6 lbs. So allow me to celebrate for a moment, before I get back to the reality that I still have 66.7 lbs to go. And then we're really gunna celebrate!

Revival

I haven't posted in... awhile. Because, per usual, I lose interest and life gets in the way. And it wasn't just you guys that I dropped. I added a few pounds (which is totally my fault) dropping the ball on my weight loss. And I moved my graduation back (again) until May.

But you, know, it's time I make some changes.

Numero Uno: I'm ba-ack! And since my readers have moved on to greener pastures most likely, I'll have to find new readers, and get the old readers back.

Numero Dos: After boycotting it for years (when my told me that she had one), on the principle that my mom had it, I have joined Instagram. Mostly to document my weight loss journey. It's empty now, but check me out in in a few days here. Follow me if you want.

Numero Tres: I have a twitter for this account (which is also empty at the moment). Follow at your whim: @stellovessel I will announce postings there. And other random tidbits.

Numero Quatro: I've been tracking with WeightWatchers. Hard Core. And guess what, it's not that hard and I'm losing weight. I started tracking fully July 1. And I have plans in mind for August 1. Big plans that include pictures. I've also set a reward for my weight loss goal (which will be hinted at with my pictures.) So stay tuned for that.


And in the last two and a half months that I have been missing.

1. My precious fake-niece (who is not really my niece and I need to designate that so that her parents and REAL aunts and uncles are not insulted even thought I think it is stupid but that's a story for another time) Little V was born. I'm quite certain that I am sustaining by pictures of her because she is the cutest thing I have ever seen but I'm not allowed to post photos of her on social media per parents request, so too bad for you. In between V fixes, I've been loving on...

2. My precious "nephew" (who is also biologically or maritally unrelated to me but whose parents actually refer to me with the title of "aunt") Little C was born. I love him so much and he has inspired me to create a list of things that are cute as a baby but aren't cute as an adult... until E ruined it by finding a video about things that you can't get away with as an adult that you could as a toddler. Way to ruin things, E. And speaking of E...

3. I had my 5-year college reunion. It was exactly like college. I saw people who I hadn't seen in years and we gushed about how much time had passed for about thirty seconds and then we went back to the safety of our college best friend group. wash. rinse. repeat. My college best friend group mostly consisted of E, and a lovely girl who was my roommate sophomore year who I lovingly refer to as Face. Missing were D, Em, and Little C's Mama. When reunion started Little C was uh... a day old? So we'll forgive her. We also broadened our group to include some 5-yr ND alums when we felt like it... because we're big on diversity here. We also bachelorette-d and bridal showered Face in preparation for her upcoming nuptial event in August.

4. A week before reunion, Sel and I road-tripped to Hershey, PA to see a college friend,Booday, get married. Her husband is Jewish, so I got to say "Mozel tov!" for the first time ever when proceeded by someone crushing a glass. They also did the chair thing which was awesome. And there was a caricature artist who drew Sel and I, but somehow the artist started channelling 'the Lion King' and Sel's nose looked a lot like Simba. My chest area also looked like a serious hazard because of sharp angles, so they could also double as weapons.

5. I turned 27 and it was very anti-climactic. But apparently, now I'm old. Good to know...

6. My cousin living in England (by way of Japan- he's in the Air Force) visited with his wife and children for the first time since they all left for Japan seven years ago. When he left, he had a wife and a child. Now he has a wife (the same one) and three children and a dog (who has been living with my mom for the past year but has since traveled back to England). The new kids are totally adorable (minus the time the youngest one threw up in my hair).

7. We all kind of skipped June 23 in my family. It marked one year since my uncle/ godfather/ surrogate father passed away from cancer of unknown origin (it killed him so quickly that they couldn't find the original source). It was hard. I miss him every single day.

8. I took up golfing. Sel and I actually golfed our best game yesterday, but we're not ready for the PGA/LPGA tour just yet...

9. My cousin got married and it was fun. Minus some drama, but whatever. Yay SR and R!

10. My niece (of marital origin but kind of not in contact with us) Baby M was born. I wonder if I'll ever meet her.

So a lot happened. I also did some research in there. And I'm working on my first manuscript.

Stay tuned folks!

Love always,

Back to Reality... Again

Well I'm finally back to the great state of Indiana and its suddenly starting to kick in that my schedule has me looking at 6 months left to do... a lot. I really haven't crossed much off of the list, but I've added stuff to it, and I'm sincerely hoping to get my butt in gear-- in work and in my personal life.

My visit to TN was fabulous. I can't call it perfect because I'm still trying to get the super computer to crunch through my data, so the jury is still out on that one. But I'll share a little bit of what I'm excited about/loving right now. First, I bought cowboy boots in TN.

"Blame it all on my roots, I showed up in boots... " (Ignore the fact that I'm not a touch southern)

Reading: I got a chance to really read, and it was heavenly. I crossed off "Drink to the Lasses", "The Fault in Our Stars"(sob), "Size 12 and Ready to Rock", and four books of the Rose Gardner Mystery series by Denise Swank. That series has me hooked hard core. The fifth book is set to come out in a month and a half, and June 26 simply cannot come soon enough. I like mystery books and was looking for something that was relatively light hearted (especially after finishing "The Fault in our Stars" which resulted in strange looks from the guy next to me as I sobbed uncontrollably. Truth. My iPad may have water damage from the amount of tears I shed over that book alone, but it was soooooooo good). So you know, I chose the book about the clairvoyant 20-something whose mom gets murdered in the first few chapters. And then I immediately downloaded the next three books in the series. When I finished the fourth book "Thirty One and a Half Regrets", there may have been a brief moment of mourning.

Rose Gardner Mystery Series FTW

Nail Polish: I changed it up a little bit with my reward mani (no chip)/pedi courtesy of the momma (I helped her with a final project for her school). It can be so gray here even now that spring has FINALLY sprung, so I decided to go with a nice bright color- hot pink. I'm totally not a pink person-- I used to have blonde hair and when I wore pink, I felt a lot like a Barbie doll, and apparently, I have carried that over into my now brunette day-- but I don't hate it. It's kind of fun. And the no chip part is Ah-mazing! Being a scientisty engineery type, I'm pretty rough on my hands. Regular nail polish stay nice for approximately 20 minutes. But no chip? No chip lasts forever. Well, probably not really forever, but weeks. Unfortunately, I need to have it changed every 2-3 weeks  because my nails grow pretty quickly and I hate the whole 2/3 of my nail are painted but 1/3 is not look (sorry if you dig this. I don't judge you, just my own hands). And my nails have actually been growing without breaking. It's lovely being able to say "Can you cut them down a bit?" instead of my usual "Yeah, they're short and all different sizes. Do what you can."

Eyes Have It: Um... so I've started wearing make up. When I was in TN, I pretty much wore eye liner, shadow AND mascara every day. IRL, I never wear make-up. No foundation. No powder. Au naturale. So this little bit of eye experimentation is actually a huge step for me. Oh and I got some awesome new glasses from Zenni Optical. They are not paying me to say this, but if you are looking for a cheap pair of glasses, you should check them out. I got my new sweet tortoise-shell prescription glasses along with a pair of polarized prescription sunglasses for less than 80 bucks. And that's with add-ons. They come with their own plastic cases and a nice lens cleaning cloth. I love my new eyes so much that it really makes me want to not wear contacts that frequently.

My glasses with bows replace glasses with skulls

Technology: I got a lovely iPhone 5s yesterday, and I'm so happy with it. My last phone had a battery issue where the battery would get me halfway through the day, so having real battery life is awesome. And I sold my old phone back for store credit, with which Sel and I purchased some games for his Xbox one for both of us to enjoy. One of the games was Just Dance 2014 and it was the best choice. We danced for a few hours last night, and this morning, I got up and put sweat mode on and danced until I was good and sweaty and called it a workout. Then I ate a sandwich with bacon. But I earned it.

My new phone! I finally got it!

And on that note, I'll leave you be. Til' later, y'all!

Leaving on a jet plane

This post is brought to you by the lovely chicago-midway airport. It's where I'm sitting right now, trying not to completely freak out. 

Yes. That face just about does it. Traveling. By myself. To a place I've never been. Where I know no one. Great. And couple that with this overwhelming fear that my experiment isn't going to work, and you've got someone who is simultaneously on the verge of tears and punching the guy at the gate whose cell phone actually says "you have a text message. You have a text message" loudly every time he gets a text (which has been enough in the past ten minutes for me to want to punch him).

My family keeps warning me of terrible weather (storms) in TN. Thanks, family. I needed more things to be concerned about. Luckily, the spallation neutron source seems like a safe place to be in a severe weather situation- as my mom pointed out. 

Mostly, I'm afraid I'm going to have to email my advisor and say "hi. The project that you put a large monetary value on isn't working." That would surely involve many tears on my part. I also haven't figured out if I actually get to leave the SNS during my 4-day run. I intentionally didn't ask the beam line scientist because it would be one more thing for me to stress about if they said no. 

In preparation, I'll be sure to shower at the latest possible moment before my run starts. Hygiene, ftw. And on that pleasant note, TTFN avid readers (all zero of you). I'm going to hop in this giant metal thing and fly across a few states. 

Hi, I exist again. This post is about fear.

Sorry for dropping off the face of the earth. I did manage to make it back from Akron. Ohio didn't swallow me whole. I've spent the past few weeks at work preparing for my next experiment, which consists of a solo-journey to Tennessee to do some work at Oak Ridge National Lab. With this trip, I'll bring my number of national labs visited to 4, doing actual research at 2 of them. I'm terrified this experiment won't work out, but that's boring and not the fear I want to talk about. 

Instilled in me is a very strong fear of abandonment. I'm sure it largely stems from daddy issues, but nevertheless it's very real. I worry constantly that everyone I love will end up leaving, and worse yet I'm convinced it would be my fault if they did (something about being told I was unlovable in my formative years). And so I put myself in these situations where I cater to people and sometimes it feels like I'm begging them to stay. "Please don't leave me. I'll do whatever you want me to do..."

As I'm writing this, I'm waiting on a friend. I've been waiting on her to get back to me for a few hours now, and suddenly the fear starts to set in. And this time the fear is selfish.  You see, Clo is having a baby, and she's due next week. Her life is about to change big time and I worry that as that stinking cute little girl that I can't wait to meet makes her grand entrance into the world that she will take my place once again. It's natural. Before Clobaby and Seb (her hubby), Clo and I were best friends. If we are listing it off, she's sitting pretty at número uno on my list, followed closely by Sel. Seb knocked me down to number two on her list long ago, though she still refers to me as a besty. I know all about second place. Somewhere in my mom's house there is a silver medal from Junior Olympics back in the day. But with this baby, I'll be demoted again (and rightfully so). I'm just not sure how I feel about bronze. 

I'm in homestate this weekend before my flight to TN, and I wanted to get to see her one more time before I have to give up my second place spot. So here I am waiting and having a panic attack that I am forever being ousted. It's selfish, I know. And here I am worrying about that when she has bigger things to worry about. Have you seen a baby's head? Or shoulders? She has to squeeze those out of something that... Well, I would assume that it is scary.  It's scary for me, and I'm not even remotely close to being pregnant. 

Really, I can't wait to see pictures of this sweet little girl when she arrives (and then visiting her when I get back from TN). But I still can't help but shake my fear of abandonment by my best friend when this girl makes her presence. I guess it will take a bit to get used to bronze, but at least I'm giving up my spot to a very worthy contender. 

 

Wordless Wednesday: Akron Edition a.k.a three seasons in one week

And as a bonus picture: Here's me being ridiculous.

  

Akron: A Cultural Expedition

When I visit this group in Akron, I'm the only American in the group. It's a bit weird, but it's also a great opportunity for learning a bit about different cultures. There's not a whole lot of places that you can be a minority as an American in America- and I certainly wouldn't think I would find it in northeastern Ohio.

In the past week, I've had two opportunities outside of the lab where I have been the ONLY American. The first time was on Friday, where I spent time with a group of Persians and one Iraqi. We were out to celebrate the birthday of one of the guys in the group I am visiting. At first, I was nervous. Everyone (except the Iraqi) was speaking Farsi, and I knew one word. The word translates to "small" which was pretty much useless in conversation, but was my sideshow talent to make them laugh at my incapability to make my mouth and tongue form the Farsi words.

After dinner, we drove back to one of their apartments to have cake. In the car, somehow 9/11 came up. If you would have told me on 9/11/2001 as I watched the news when the second plane hit the towers, I would have a conversation with two Middle Eastern men, one Muslim, over 12 years later, I would have thought you were lying. But it was real, and pure, and insightful. SA recalled people holding a candlelight vigil at the Swiss embassy since there is no American embassy in Iran (well, there is, but it hasn't been used since the 1970's. Read about that here). We discussed the Islamic faith and that the belief that violence- especially the taking of lives (including one's own)- conflicts greatly with the foundation of the faith. 

Of course, there was cake. Delicious chocolate cake. And tea with cardamom. And then we danced. And took pictures. And it is a night I will always remember. Tavalodet Mobarak, SA.

Tonight was experience number two. One of the Chinese members of the group has her parents in town helping take care of her darling 2 month baby. Last week she told me that she and her mother would like to cook me dinner. So tonight, I went over to her house, loved on her sweet baby girl, and ate my weight in real Chinese food. It was so delicious. I used chopsticks the entire time. I swear sometimes being the only American requires one to do sideshow tricks- like pick up peanuts with chopsticks. Which, upon my success, spurred cheering. And requests to repeat my sideshow tricks.

Okay, you've seen the food. It was delicious and so nice to have a home-cooked meal. But (prepare your ovaries, ladies. Gentlemen, I'm not sure it will have the same effect) here's how I really spent the evening...

Those tiny little hands with tiny little fingers with tiny little fingernails. Oh my goodness. I was in heaven.

And look at these tiny little feet. So soft and perfect. And that beautiful crocheted blanket behind little E was made by my aunt. There's something magical about babies. No matter how bad my day was or how foul my mood or how stressed I am, the cure is a baby in my arms. And today was not good, until this evening when I snuggled up to this sweet little baby. The innocence just seems to calm my soul. 

Now excuse me while I watch Big Love and coo over pictures of Baby E and her tiny appendages. Hope you all had a good Tuesday.

Beating Impostor Syndrome

As I enter my last 9 months as a graduate student, the TO-DO list seems endless. Finish up my research. Write Manuscripts. Write Dissertation. Find a job. I think I've listed it on here once or twice. Or more. And those are the BIG things on the TO-DO list. After each of those large tasks are many smaller, direct tasks. Format CV. Update CV. Convert CV to Resume. Apply to Jobs. Beat Impostor Syndrome.

Wait... that last one didn't seem right. Did it? Do you even know what it is? Did you think I made it up? Well, I actually didn't. Surprisingly enough. And if you are woman in academia or a STEM field, you probably already know this "syndrome" all too well. Quite simply, it's a case of feeling like you don't belong. But it's not really that simple. Everyone feels like they don't belong at some point in their lives. But this is really feeling like you don't belong. Beating yourself up over it. Self-deprecating behavior.

I can't really put quite how impostor syndrome feels into words. But as I try to tackle that last major task I listed (getting a job), I can tell you that it is hitting me HARD. I feel qualified to do absolutely nothing. As I read through the skills desired, a fear sets in. "Experience in X-ray scattering". Well, yeah that's part of my dissertation. I have experience in X-ray scattering. and then the doubt sets in. "But do I know enough about X-ray scattering? I mean my data is crap? I don't really KNOW anything about X-ray scattering." This is the process I go through every single time I look at desired skill sets. I've been trained in techniques. I've been doing them for years. And yet, it's so ingrained in me that I do not belong in science. That I'm not good enough. Not smart enough. And certainly not qualified enough for these opportunities.

Right now, I have no first author papers, which only seems to amplify the fact that I don't belong in this world. And it's hard applying for post-docs because most of them say "strong publication record." I mean it's like trying to get into law school without taking the LSAT. Sadly, everything you've done in grad school comes down to what, where, and how many times you have published. And right now, I'm on one paper, as a third author, in a really good journal. But there's the third author thing. So can you understand why I feel like an impostor?

The first step to convincing anyone to hire me is to convince myself that I'm worth hiring. I'll be practicing this technique in the upcoming week. Wish me luck!

parlez-vous francais?

So yesterday, I had a super stressful day- mostly induced by me. So, grab your favorite drink and get cozy for story time.

Once upon a time, there was the idea of a conference just north of Paris in July of 2014. (How far north, you ask? 20 km north- because we're in France and they embrace the metric system. For you Americans out there, I'm going to go with 12.4 miles.) Surely if the conference is July of 2014, the abstract deadline must be long gone, no? Well, we checked. It's not. The deadline is mid-April.

So like a child who asks their parents for a puppy knowing that the parents will say no, but just to ask, I asked my boss about funding for this conference. I was fully expecting a "haha. you're silly." But since I'm having story time about this, you know it can't end there. Alas, the e-mail said, "I will fund you X amount. Look for other funding to cover the remaining costs and bon voyage!" (and yes he did actually write bon voyage. I wasn't adding that for effect, or because we are discussing France). Also, I should mention that X is not, like, pennies. It is a significant chunk--over half of the funding required.

I think I stared at the e-mail for like 20 minutes before I was able to form full thoughts and speak sentences. So I called my mom and I mention July and... BOOM. Stress-bomb goes off. I should have remembered before I looked at the conference, but someone I know and love is doing this wedding thing in the middle of July. At the same time as the conference. That my boss just told me he would pay for over half of. And that someone is my cousin.

I think I talked to no less than 20 people about this conundrum. I was at a loss as to what to do. I knew that if the roles were reversed I would have said "You take lots of pics in France, I'll get lots of pics of my wedding. When we're both back, we'll get together and have a girls' night and swap." But I'm not so certain that I have the most awesome handle on this thing (because I would also tell that to anyone attending my wedding. Except the groom. He can't go to France). I also have a huge guilt complex that is very much ingrained in my being. So I decided to talk it over with her in a very logical manner.

1. I have the opportunity to go to France.
2. I have half the funding covered.
3. It's during your wedding.
4. I want you to weigh in before I seek out additional funding.
5. (Please don't hate me)

I may have started crying- did I mention the guilt complex? But my wonderful cousin, without pause, decided that I MUST go to France. Even if it conflicted with her wedding. Even if I were paying for it by myself. Because, HELLO, it's France. And you only get so many opportunities to go to France in your life.

So, I, the worst cousin ever, will be going to France (to sit and listen to talks for 12 hours a day and give a talk) instead of going to my cousin's wedding. You heard it here before I mentioned it on any social networking sites. I guess I should start to brush up on my learn French?

Two Years.

Yesterday was Sel's and my anniversary. We've officially been together for two years. And in the process of this journey, I realized how few pictures the two of us actually take together. I think I have one picture from when he left for New Mexico for his 6 month stint there. A handful of pictures from when I visited him in New Mexico and we went hiking on the mountain trails. One picture from a football game when he got back from New Mexico. One at a dog show. One from last weekend when I was planning this post and adding pictures of the two of us. It's been two whole years, and I only have a few photos documenting the relationship. Perhaps I should get on that. But here's the two most recent photos of us.

At the dog show with the half-champion show dog

Forcing Sel to take a selfie with me randomly.

I wish I could say we did something special. We went to one of our favorite restaurants for lunch and shared a brownie skillet for dessert. Okay, I ate the brownie, Sel ate the ice cream. And then I hopped on the road for a few hours to get to Akron, OH. Home of the Zips... and the polymer engineering building where I will be living spending time for the next two weeks. Yes, you read that right. Two whole weeks-- without Sel and my burritos. Last night, I didn't have to fight for bed real estate. And frankly, it was a bit lonely. Luckily this isn't my first rodeo with UAkron, so I've established a friend group here. So there's that.

Will I survive? Stay tuned to find out...

Back to Your Normally Scheduled Programming

I've got a horrible case of the Mondays. Today has been rough. I had a totally shiny and productive week at boot camp followed a wonderful weekend with family and my other family (Clo's family). And now it's Monday, and I was back at my normal desk, trying to get work done.

The bad thing about boot camp was the fact that it showed me that I can actually be productive, and, as such, I've set the bar higher than normal. Pre-boot camp me was happy if I could get a good model of my data in one day-- "a" being one. Today, I got plausible models of three data sets. And made a handful (40) of samples for my next trip to run instrumentation. This would have been logged under the spectacular day category two weeks ago. Post-boot camp me is not pleased. Today it just feels "meh".

Don't drink the Kool Aid. No really, don't drink it. It's not Kool Aid.

So what's the solution (haha. see I'm punny)? Keep setting the bar this high (i.e. new criteria for spectacular day classification?) or lower my expectations? And please don't remind me that December is 9 months away. I realize in 9 months, I need to have finished all my research, written my dissertation, defended, and at least have multiple papers submitted-- draft form at the absolute least. Oh yeah, and have a job/post-doc lined up. It looks a lot scarier on paper a computer screen than in my head (it's pretty scary in my head too).

So now that I have sufficiently transcribed my displeasure and freaked my self out, I will leave you with this picture that is completely unrelated but science-y. Check out all those crystals. I made those. These were made on a day that was likely not even classified as mediocre, but they're still pretty. So if beautiful things come out of not-quite-mediocre days, then maybe today WAS actually spectacular. Perhaps I should give myself more credit.

Happy St. Patrick's Day! 

An Irishman's Philosophy:

In life, there are only two things to worry about—

Either you are well or you are sick.

If you are well, there is nothing to worry about,

But if you are sick, there are only two things to worry about—

Either you will get well or you will die.

If you get well, there is nothing to worry about,

But if you die, there are only two things to worry about—

Either you will go to heaven or hell.

If you go to heaven, there is nothing to worry about.

And if you go to hell, you’ll be so busy shaking hands with all your friends

You won’t have time to worry!