Winter Blues

For most of my adult life, I've dealt with an annual bout of depression. It usually kicks in around January or February and lasts until the sun start shining with some regularity.

While I'm not a doctor, I would almost bet money on my having seasonal affectiveness disorder, a mood disorder that causes people to become more depressed than normal in the winter.

Because I live in Illinois, it's easy to fall into this every year: the cold, the snow, the dry skin, the lack of sunlight all make for a tough time wanting to get out of bed every morning. I'm quickly learning to overcome my fear of tarantulas just so my husband and I can move to Arizona as soon as possible.

I am not completely hopeless, nor am I severe. I'm heading down to Florida in two weeks for a 4-day work trip which should help put me on track to wellness. After that, it's a month of slowly rising temps and maybe another snow storm and voila -- Spring.

With the winter blues, it's also tough not to get frustrated with every little thing that doesn't go your way. In the summer, my not being able to do a pole inversion would have bummed me out; this past Sunday, I was feeling like a total failure. Likewise, my business trip-induced cancellation of meds for a cycle has me feeling like I'll be barren for the rest of my life.

Luckily, I have recovery plan. I'm taking today off as a vacation day; I'm going to recenter myself and get back on track. Now if only I could do that in the sun...

I pole therefore I ache

For Christmas, my husband got me a gift card to our health club's spa. I love spas; they're my haven from an otherwise stressful life.

I finally used my gift card today to get a deep tissue/sport massage. I was trying to hold out and use the gift card until after a major convention I'm going through; one where I'll walk for miles each day and will come back home with more aches and pains than a 90-year-old.

The problem was, my back just ached like crazy and I couldn't stand it anymore.

After a massage that felt like heaven on a table, I found out why my back as ached so much: I've over-hunched my shoulders and back to the point that I'm actually extending my spinal muscles up instead of letting them stay put.

The No. 1 culprit to the pull: pole dancing.

With pole, you're constantly pulling your body inward to hold the pole. I need to unclench my back. Unfortunately, with this back pain, I fear having to drop out of the class. Let's hope I can find a few exercises to open up my chest and get back on that pole.

Two steps forward...

All hail the WashingtonPost.com's Leslie Morgan Steiner for her post today on stepparenting.

Reading this really hit home this morning, particularly in the wake of a busy week filled with several situations where SuperStepmom swooped in to help save the day when the biological parents had to work late. Don't even get me started on my stepson calling me "the maid" this morning after I cleaned up his breakfast dishes.

I hope the person she's writing about in her post is right: I hope somewhere down the road, maybe 10, 15, 20 years away, my stepchildren, my husband, their mother will appreciate all of the things I've done.

Pour some sugar on me

I am addicted to sugar. I add it to my tea, to my coffee and to my cereal. I consume it in the pop that I drink every day and the box(es) of Triscuits I can polish off in a weekend.

I have a problem.

What's worse is that this addiction to sugar could kill me in the long run. I have all the signs of it being my downfall: my father is a type-2 diabetic; my great grandmother on my mother's side died of type 1 diabetes, I have Polycystic Ovarian Syndrome which is basically a scary way of saying that my body is insulin resistant and because of that doesn't produce the necessary hormones for me to "pay my monthly bill."

For some stupid reason, I don't treat the PCOS or the potential for Diabetes as life-threatening. No, I continue to suck down my Coke Zero's and dump spoonfuls of sugar into my coffee. It's starting to make me sick to my stomach thinking of all the sugar I consume.

So now, in front of all of you wonderful readers, I hearby renounce my dependence on sugar. I'm detoxing no matter how painful it might be -- and it will be painful.

Water is my new best friend (it always had been an ally, but now we'll be inseparable); sodas are being kicked into the garage and the Caribou Coffee Mocha Nut bars are my stepdaughter's for the taking.

I've got to improve my health. I can almost feel my undoing.

On the Cusp of Old

In about three weeks I will turn 32 years old. I am hardly old, but with each passing day I feel more and more ancient.

Case(s) in point:

• I bought a days-of-the-week pill box to keep track of my vitamin intake
• I have more gray hairs than blond highlighted ones
• I've had a backache for almost two months

What I can surmise from this list is that my memory and muscle tone are turning to shit and my locks are showing an age 10 years advanced of what I really am.

God it sucks to be old.

All about Meme

Today marks the end of my meme virginity. My stepmom blogger friend Alice Nelson tapped me for a meme so here it goes:

The meme rules:
Link to the person that tagged you.
Post the rules on your blog.
Share six non-important things/habits/quirks about yourself.
Tag at least three people at the end of your post and link to their blogs.
Let each person know they have been tagged by leaving a comment on their blog.
Let the fun begin!

1. My husband and I play the video game Rock Band for fun; I'm a kick-ass drummer.
2. Recently I've started sitting right on the edge of my seat at work. It's an odd habit and I've almost fallen off my chair twice.
3. I'm addicted to reading my horoscope.
4. I'm petrified to drive in winter weather.
5. My middle name was inadvertently misspelled at the hospital when I was born. My mom wanted Allissa; I came home Alissa.
6. I love to watch Sex and the City despite having seen all the episodes when they first aired.

Tag, darlings, you're it:

Cat @ Nerdy Laundry
Dena @ Mrs. Kravitz's Sweet and Sour
Chelly @ Flustered

Share and Share alike

My husband and I have started a new habit: we carpool into work nearly every morning. While this has its stressors, it's actually been a good way for us to get in "alone time" without a lot of major distractions.

We get into conversations of all types: work-related, home-related, project-related. We're both cerebral geeks so the conversations can get rather opinionated at times.

Today's topic centered around sharing versus privacy. My husband, who pens a work blog and a personal blog, writes high-level stuff on his blogs; he doesn't "air his dirty laundry" as he puts it. I totally understand that even if I'm not capable of it.

I don't know if he's capable of doing that because he's a guy or because he's introverted. Perhaps I'm not capable of it because I was an only child of working parents growing up and I'm now desperate for companionship. Who knows.

My husband isn't private around me; in fact, he's quite liberated. He's just private to everyone else. I, on the other hand, am the opposite. I've figured out "when to hold 'em and when to fold 'em" during conversations with my husband. I reveal the necessary details and deal with everything else myself. I consider my blog one of my dearest friends because I can tell it just about anything.

The conversation this morning did get me to think about how much I share. Sometimes I think it's too much, but then sometimes I'll post something that encourages a few close friends to pop their head over the wall I've erected around me to keep people at a distance.

For now, I'll continue the status quo but I'll always be on the lookout for the privacy police.

Melinda Gates is my hero

I just finished reading FORTUNE magazine's cover story on Melinda Gates and all I can say is:

This woman is my hero. She's my own personal Jesus and I want to be just like her when I grow up.

She's smart, she's sassy, she's well-travelled and athletic and she's got an uber-geek husband. Gee, sound familiar?

What I like about her, or at least what I was enamoured of in the article, was the many sources, including Warren Buffet, who said how she was the person that grounded her husband, the one that kept him real.

She's smart enough to put her husband -- one of the richest men in the world -- in his place and not let his head get too big. She's grounded and uses her money for good rather than evil.

She sounds a lot like me; well, except for the part about the gobs of money. I swear, if she were a stepmother, I'd consider praying to her as my diety of choice.

We’re not gonna take it…

Do you ever have one of those days when you just feel like giving up; when the chips seemed stacked so high against you that it’s easier to throw up your hands and surrender then to fight back?

Today is one of those days for me.

Actually, it’s been one of those months for me.

To get my body as close to normal as possible, I’ve been on medication this month that has heightened my sensitivity to everything: people, traffic, the color of paint on the wall. Situations that most people would let roll off their back I’ve taken personally or let myself get enraged about it. As an added bonus, I’ve tried to keep a lid on the pisstivity around everyone.

I’ve kept mum about the medicine to just about everyone because I’ve found most people don’t really care about the details of another person’s life – or at least my life. Are you alive? Yes; Major debilitating medical problems? No; okay nice knowing you let’s go eat lunch. I also didn’t want it to be used against me. “Well Erin sorry we couldn’t bring you along to that summit; we were afraid the medicine would make you too irritable to be out in public.”

I’ve gone about my business lately keeping things to myself and I think, soon, the lid may blow off the pot. It’s only a matter of time before something trips the trigger that keeps my sanity in check.

I have a few possible scenarios that could unleash the beast: my Alley cat, one of two that I brought into the marriage, had to be taken to the cat hospital this morning and will likely not survive. We’ve had 5 great years together and she won’t likely outlive the 17 year old cat that’s pisses all over everything in our home.

I’m also having bloodwork done this week that will tell me if the medicine has helped correct my hormone levels. If it hasn’t, then I start another round.

Last but not least…carpooling and the powers that be. My husband and I are trying to save money on gas by carpooling. He has no real set time he has to be to work; I on the other hand could potentially be fired if I trend toward not working my standard 9-5. On the mornings his ex has the kids, she drops them off at our house right before 8…an hour before I have to be to work – 30 miles away. Within that hour, my husband and I drop my stepson off at day-care, drive through traffic congestion for 40 minutes, drop off my husband and then I drive through more traffic to step in the door at 8:59:59. I make it in but just barely. Any and all attempts at asking to get the kids earlier have fallen on frustrated ears.

I’m at a loss. I want to find a dark corner where I can curl up with the other cat I brought to the marriage – the one I consider my "baby" because he follows me around like a child does a parent and loves to be held by only me. I want too disappear until someone asks “Where’s Erin?” and comes to look for me to give me a hug, not to ask where something’s at.

Sensitivity Training

Add one more to-do to my Lemon Law List:

Be less sensitive.

This is a tough to-do for me. In Meyers Briggs typology, I'm an ESFJ which means I live to care for people. I'm a natural-born listener and I take my "sensing" seriously.

This quirk of my personality has posed a few problems for me lately. I've become defensive when friends don't confide in me immediately and I've taken other people's solitude personally.

I feel like a traitor to my close friends and loved ones if/when I come across as not caring yet I've got to put the kibosh on feeling as though everyone's mad at me just because they don't spill their guts to me all the time.

I'm also horrible at smooth transitions. How do you go from over-caring to just caring enough without coming across as a total bitch?

A few more songs for the pole-dancing playlist

I've received a few comments about the songs I dance to (either at the studio or at home). In addition to the ones I listed a couple weeks back, I've also added a few more to the mix:

Stripper Friends by Tila Tequila
Fever by Peggy Lee -- this is an oldie but a goodie.
Peel me a Grape by Diana Krall

Unlike the two Marilyn Manson songs I've listed before these are a little more light-hearted and fun; Krause's is a little more sensuous.

I never grow tired of hearing...

"Erin, are you losing weight?"

"I've been meaning to ask you if you've been dieting lately because you can tell you're slimmer."

I heart comments like this.