When It Rains... It Rains.

This week has been pretty trying.

"The jug fills drop by drop." -Buddha

Friday morning, 2am, I begin traipsing through 2" of freezing cold rain water.  Unfortunately, I wasn't dancing in the rain (though I would have been much happier doing so, even if it was ice cold) and no, I wasn't dreaming/nightmaring. Instead, my house became a river, pieces of paper became fish in the big living room sea. <<Sunny Sidebar: Julie was absolutely terrified of these new floating inhabitants in her living room.>>

My home was under attack by Mother Nature and she wasn't giving up with ease. See, our hot water tank has been acting up. We know it's life is going to be over soon. 

Please, please let this be the hot water tank. Cross fingers. Rub buddha's bald head.  

"MATTTTTTTTTT!!!!!!!!!!!!!!"

It wasn't the hot water tank. It was melting snow, Mother Nature's tears (and surprisingly none of mine). Living room, laundry room, bathroom, bedroom- SWAMPED. There is no stopping this so we decide to go back to bed. Fast forward to 7am. My otherbrother Mikey comes over in a jiffy to help us dry this place out.  Long story short: flooring- gone. Carpet- gone. Ego- what ego? 

Phew. We are getting no breaks...

-Ain't no rest for the wicked-

[I wish money grew on my trees.]

Try as you might, this one is hard to get over.  A few awesome people made these points, and I must say, their logic is spot on.

-Be thankful it wasn't sewage. 

-Hey! Now you can get new floors!

-Lucky you haven't started working on the lower level yet.

On the brightish side, Saturday was a nice little breather.  Habitat for Humanity's Restore had a huge lighting sale.  We pick out a fabulous 'chandelier' (read: awesome light that looks like a bird cage) for the foyer, $100 and check out. $10.80 later, we have a brand new chandelier.  Don't ask questions, we didn't.  Next we learn that Danny Vegh's is going out of business.  Because we absolutely need a pool table for our living room swamp, we decide to check it out. Here is what we find: a pile of 20 or more 12" x 12" canvases, all of which are different shades of red with what I presume to be abstract designs.  We are told they are actually sets that make up one large painting and if we can match them up, we can have each canvas for $5. 

In the end, we put 3 separate pieces of artwork together, 6 canvases in each, that match PERFECTLY with what we are doing in the kitchen. I have seen nothing like this before. Danny Vegh's daughter walks by and tells us how awesome it is that we found all matching pieces and that she'll give them to us for $100/set (so $300 total). 

tires screeching.

So first, we're told $5/each which would total $90 for all 18 canvases (3 total pieces of art).  

Second we're told $100/each piece of art which would total $300 for all 18 canvases.

Third, we go to check out and are told they are $10/canvas for a total of $180. 

In the end, we got them for $90.  The kicker?  Each set has a little tiny price sticker of $500. 

Alright, let's do the math.

Light: $100 price tag, $10 out the door.

Canvases: $1500 price tag, $90 out the door.

Cha-Ching!

Saturday was a lot of bonding time with him and I. Lots of laughs and lots of talking. We ended up at Melt, tried to kill ourselves on giant grilled cheese sandwiches and then spent time with otherbrothers and almost-niece & nephew.  I love those guys. 

So what has come of this weekend? We got our cabinet doors on. I can pseudo-cook and use our new appliances. Mostly, at the end of the day, despite a minor (cough, major) breakdown earlier, I get to curl up in bed (ignore the fact that it is literally the only place you can sit in the house right now due to said living room sea) with an unbelievably handsome man and my little 'piglet.'

A friend reached out today, struggling with some things and I reminded her of my favorite poem that I think I have recited to her multiple times.  Enjoy~

After a while you learn the subtle difference

Between holding a hand and chaining a soul,

And you learn that love doesn't mean leaning

And company doesn't mean security.

And you begin to learn that kisses aren't contracts

And presents aren't promises,

And you begin to accept your defeats

With your head up and your eyes open

With the grace of a woman, not the grief of a child,

And you learn to build all your roads on today

Because tomorrow's ground is too uncertain for plans

And futures have a way of falling down in mid-flight.

After a while you learn...

That even sunshine burns if you get too much.

So you plant your garden and decorate your own soul,

Instead of waiting for someone to bring you flowers.

And you learn that you really can endure...

That you really are strong

And you really do have worth...

And you learn and learn...

With every good-bye you learn.

Love you, N.R.C. 

Some of the smallest things...

So a wise woman told me yesterday, in different yet similar terms, one needs to view your small accomplishments as none other but accomplishments- no matter the size.  So instead of making lists of what needs to be done and focusing on what DIDN'T get done, focus on what did.

Our "Honey Let's Do This" list only keeps getting longer.  I cross things off as we go and it feels good, temporarily, until I look at what isn't crossed off and am literally drowned in house-stress.

So let's do this; let's look at what has been accomplished since we moved into our not-so-dreamy dream home.

• general
• removed all internal doors in the house (that's 10)
• sanded, repainted
• we rid our yard of over 17 garbage bags of debris. holy Buddha that was a lot
• we replaced our roof.  Yes, that's WE. Not a contractor, not a roofer, WE did (with help of course).

Roof compliments of Zimmerman,
Bracken & Brandenburg, LLC.

From pep to, to mud, to pepto-y, to mud,
to a lot of sand to a very beautiful black door
and White Duck paint. (Door idea
compliments of Schmidty). 

• Small guest bedroom: demolished.  Demolished means:
• sanded the walls down to the drywall
• recoated them in mud
• sanded all the mud off
• recoated them in more mud
• sanded flat
• painted
• painted all the trim
• painted the ceilings
• painted the door
• replaced electrical box
• the beauty in disguise: OUR KITCHEN (photos below)
• tore out ceiling and ceiling fan
• redid ENTIRE CEILING - drywall, stucco (kill me if I ever do that again)
• tore out the dishwasher
• tore out counter tops
• removed all cabinet doors
• sanded cabinet doors
• painted cabinet doors
• replaced sliding glass door (right)
• replaced kitchen window
• installed:
• gas line
• gas range
• refrigerator
• dishwasher
• sink/faucets



Sure, let's put a giant hole in our
house in the middle of winter.
Love to my brothers, Mikey and Don.

• garbage disposal
• mastering the master
• tore out carpet
• sanded and filled holes
• scrubbed master bath and master closet
• carpet ordered
• purchased and ready for installation/use:
• master bedroom ceiling fans
• all air ducts
• microwave
• carpet

Final product- stucco work
by yours truly.

SO CLOSE.

I think in the end, what I love most about what we have accomplished is the absolutely ridiculous shit that had to happen for us to get here.

Like... Brian jinxing me, ultimately resulting in this: 

Yes, I stepped on that bucked and fell straight down inside that mud. Both feet, favorite Under Armor's... all I could do was laugh (and of course take photographic evidence).

Then those moments where we think we can we think we can... and probably just shouldn't have... but we did, it worked, and we laughed the whole way home, bent over like the National Lampoon's Home Remodeling Episode 1.

There's always that moment when you find someone's REAL tooth in your new home, right? No?

And then you have that dog. That dog that you love way too much for your own good.  That love is, of course, exacerbated when non-hubs claims his love for her too and you catch him kissing her on the head. <3 But really, this dog: she keeps us sane and keeps us laughing.  Preparing to paint, bright light on a wet coat of mud, drop cloth ready for red paint spills... and this dog found her perfect place to lay: soft padding below, warmth on the face = heaven for a pitty. 

I'm missing a lot from the list above. but what's important is that even what is there is astonishing.  All of this has been completed in less than 4 months.

And for that, I am happy.

My Rx for Happiness

A few years ago, circa 2007-2008ish, I made some bad decisions. These decisions ultimately resulted in really bad anxiety (unbeknownst to me) which manifested itself into breathing problems. I couldn't take a deep breathe for the life of me, my chest was bruised from trying too hard. I couldn't sleep. I couldn't be that volleyball-playing, broomball-playing, lover of life I was so used to being.

“If you want to conquer the anxiety of life, live in the moment, live in the breath.” 

― Amit Ray

The irony doesn't escape me.  I started going to sports medicine clinics, thinking it's asthma (because honestly, what else could it be?) and to no avail.  This stole a year of my life. It stole the entire 14 hour plane ride to Ireland. It stole a lot of smiles, a lot of laughs, a lot of me. 

Everyone was telling me it was in my head. "It's mental, Jess. Just breathe. You can do it."  

<<Sidebar: True or not, DO NOT tell someone who is suffering, no matter what they are suffering from, that it is in their head. Don't dig your own grave.>>

My family, my friends, doctors. I finally find a doctor who, after asking me over 100 questions (with no exaggeration), diagnoses me with moderate to severe anxiety.  What?? 

Hang on. 

WHAT?

Jess does not have anxiety. and it's certainly not severe.  Mr. Doctor, you are an idiot.  Fast forward 30 days on the lovely drug called Zoloft and I can breathe again. Mr. Doctor, you are not an idiot. You sir just saved my life. 

So what? Who cares. Everyone has some sort of issue, everyone is on some type of medication. What's one more drug? 

Let me tell you. This drug, while it has been sunshine for me on some of the worst days, has also shown me just how easy it is to lose site of who you really are, especially when you take it for more than 5 years.  

My prescription recently ran out.  I acted like a goddamn lunatic. Crying over the most ridiculous things, happy or sad. All I had to do was think about how much I love Matt and tears would stream down my face. In fact, I actually had a temper tantrum last Thursday.  Embarrassing, yes. But here's what I've found: the more I talk about this, the easier it is for me to get past those crazy emotions.  So yes, on Thursday I was crying, yelling - I punched a wall. I stomped as hard as I could on the floor.  Why? Well, my printer wasn't working. This is an appropriate reaction to the situation, no?

Alright, so at the risk of ruining a lot of good things I have going for me, I got my Rx refilled. But I sat it on the coffee table and just stared at it.  I don't want to be on this drug. I don't want this drug to make me something I'm not... but yet, my behavior proves I need it. 

It's been almost 7 days and I haven't popped one of those tiny white tablets into my mouth. Of those 7 days, 3 have been bad. 1. Temper Tantrum. 2. Gutschmidt posted pictures of dogs on FB- crybaby. 3. Irritable as all get out. Don't you even think about saying hi to me- I just may bitch slap you.

So I shouldn't be doing this- you should never quit a drug cold-turkey and especially not Zoloft but here I am. I want to share this journey. I want people to understand a little bit better. I want those who have dealt with the same thing to realize that this isn't a prison sentence. Who knows, I might have to get myself back on the drug.  I realize that sometimes drugs are a must (though I don't know how much I believe- they didn't exist many many years ago) and if this drug is what I need, then I'll take it. But the backwards side effects it's created is without a doubt worse than the original problem. 

Can't Breathe --> Take Zoloft --> Breathing Fixed --> Quit Zoloft --> Emotions are out of WHACK.

So on my not-so-sane days, I share my feelings out loud.  Kim has been an awesome receptacle of my craziness lately.  But what I realize is that when I do voice my emotions, share why I'm upset, it automatically puts them into perspective and the crazy feelings dissipate.  

Here's to moving forward in a backwards fucked up sort of life.  

A literary genius.  “Well, I always know what I want. And when you know what you want--you go toward it. Sometimes you go very fast, and sometimes only an inch a year. Perhaps you feel happier when you go fast. I don't know. I've forgotten the difference long ago, because it really doesn't matter, so long as you move.” 

― Ayn Rand, We the Living

The First Day of My...

Well, life has always been a bit backwards for me...or, really, I've always just chosen to live life backwards. At the age of, let's say 10 (because in reality, it's probably been since I was a babe), I functioned like an adult. I thought like an adult. I stressed like an adult. I didn't know laughter without tears and I didn't know a smile without a worry.  Fast forward to 18 (actual age, yes).  I was in love. He was my world. I left him to pursue four years of unadulterated college life.  Smiling, laughing, absolutely overjoyed with my acceptance letter.  Bawling my eyes out in Cascade Park telling him that we were through. Fast forward 4 years (we're going to skip this.  As it very much gave me the path to where I am today, it certainly doesn't define who I've become): graduation, moving up and out. Bigger and better things awaited me.

Contacted said 'love.'

And this, my friends, is where the first day of my life began. He began the drive down to Dayton. 3.5 hours (unless your Laura, then make it 5 hours) later, I was in his arms and felt like the 5 years between us was all but lost in history. Since then, he's been mine, I his.  Our path has been one of a LOT of learning.  Here is who helped us get to today:

Natalie: for welcoming him into my (read: our) apartment the very first time he drove down.
Laura: for knowing the past and seeing our future.
My dad: for second chances, his unwavering support of my decisions, and mostly, for being my dad.
His family: for showing me that family isn't always blood, that 'brothers' really do care and for welcoming me in (and certainly not taking it easy on me :))
Gutschmidt: for being the newest part of my life and showing me what's important, what isn't and how to tell the difference.

Since he and I got back together, I've bought a house, then sold the house, moved back north to Lakewood, we lived in a condo, we moved into our respective parents homes, we bought a house which brings us to today.

More to come.