Monterey, CA
Sweater Dress | Boots | Hat | Sunglasses
I have spent the past three nights wandering the house and eating things (cheese sticks, mostly) in search of something, anything, that will put me to sleep.
Monterey, CA
Sweater Dress | Boots | Hat | Sunglasses
I have spent the past three nights wandering the house and eating things (cheese sticks, mostly) in search of something, anything, that will put me to sleep.
I've been sort of busy lately. Book promotion surrounding the release date, as it turns out, involves near-daily interviews and mailings and emails and pitches and such, which has resulted in me spending a lot of time writing a lot tons of articles for sites other than this one. And so this XXL link roundup contains far too many links that relate to me personally and/or were actually written by me. I'm sorry. They're fun, though, I promise :) .
In the apple trees | Somewhere on I-5
I get asked about this (ancient) sweater all the time, and fiiinally found a similar one.
Whenever I make the drive down to L.A. - as I have at least once every two months since we moved to San Jose - I make up excuses to explain why I'm going. This time, for example, my excuses were: 1) I have a couple of meetings scheduled, 2) Francesca and I always have our own little mini-holiday celebration together, and 3) I just took a "special trip" with Goldie, and wanted to give Indy a special trip of his own.
I met with a therapist today. Not a psychiatrist - a therapist, and specifically one specializing in cognitive-behavioral therapy. What CBT is, essentially: an intensive, results-geared 12-18 week course of therapy during which you learn specific techniques that you can use to better cope with your anxiety (or depression, or whatever it is that brought you in).
I sat down on the therapist's couch next to a little machine bubbling lavender-scented steam into the air and gave him my best "Look at how happy and okay I am!" smile (because, as everyone knows, the most important part of therapy is convincing your therapist you totally don't need it. ...Right?). He asked me why I was there, and even though I knew this was a pretty unhelpful way to begin the session, I told him the truth: that I didn't know.
It really was true; these days, I feel more or less...fine. Great, actually. My anxiety is under control; my insomnia has virtually disappeared. I'm stressed about various things, of course, but they feel like things I probably "should" be stressed about, like travel and mortgage payments and such. I only booked the appointment in the first place because the psychiatrist who I see about once a month to check in on my medication suggested it, and so while I paid for that day's appointment at the reception desk I also scheduled a new one with his colleague. And then all of a sudden it was a month later and there I was: sitting in a therapist's office and talking about feelings.
{ New Mexico road trip with my then-boyfriend Jason | 2005 }
For about four years in my mid-twenties (roughly ages 22 to 26), I was anorexic.
Just typing out that sentence is a big deal for me, because for a long, long time it wasn't something I admitted even to myself, and certainly not to anyone else. I've always referred to it as "that time when I was super fucked-up" or "that time when I decided not to eat ever again" - jokey, hyperbolic half-truths intended to swing the conversation towards lighter subjects. I've never even said the word "anorexia" to my mother; I called her yesterday to talk to her about this post so she wouldn't be blindsided (although of course she knew anyway). But over the past few weeks, I've found myself saying out loud to one friend or another, whenever a related subject comes up, "Oh yeah, I was anorexic." And we talk about it or we don't, but it's out there either way.
I went into The Life-Changing Magic of Tidying Up - the New York Times Bestseller that's getting a ton of attention in the press and spawning entire movements - with a healthy dose of skepticism. Partially because...well, "life-changing"? I mean...come on. But mostly because I'm huge on throwing stuff out - it's literally one of my favorite things to do - and I suspected that her tips wouldn't be all that revolutionary to someone who's already drunk the "if you don't use it, get rid of it" kool-aid.
I mean, really: I'm constantly paring down the amount of stuff I have (which is considerable, I admit, in large part because I'm always picking up props and such for shoots). I give things away to friends; I sell them; I donate them to Goodwill. I can't stand having items that I don't use or need laying around. And yet, after maybe three hours of culling through my possessions using the philosophies contained in this book:
(I'm putting the photo after the jump because it's ridiculous and I'm so excited)
I wrote a few weeks ago how, in the days following Goldie's birth - when I feared a relapse of the postpartum depression that I'd suffered from after Indy arrived - I was prescribed a low-dose medication to combat the chronic insomnia and anxiety that I've been dealing with for a good decade (and hopefully make PPD more unlikely). It's been two months, and I figure now is as good of a time as any to write about how it's been going.
* * *
Growing up, my parents taught me that no one would handle my problems for me; it was on me to face them, and then fix them. If I had an issue with a teacher, a fight with a friend, an essay that I just couldn't seem to get right, they were there to listen and offer suggestions, of course, but they were not going to storm the gates and take over; finding a solution was my job. And I'm grateful for that.
I went into the birth of my second child absolutely convinced I'd experience at least some degree of the postpartum depression I dealt with after Indy was born. It was something I brought up at my very first appointment after finding out we were expecting, and something that I touched base with my doctors about over the course of the next few months. I didn't want it to catch me unguarded and without a plan in place, because with a toddler and an infant to think about, being that emotionally out of sorts even for even a day didn't feel like an option.
My primary concern: you know how I've written extensively about my insomnia (which is largely related to my anxiety)? Well, when you have a newborn, you sleep even less. And less sleep = a greater chance of suffering from PPD.
At the mid-point in my pregnancy, I went to meet with a psychiatrist (which I should have done a long, long time ago), because even though I didn't want to start any new medications while expecting, I figured you know what? I've been dealing with this problem long enough. I've tried lots of different things - some that have worked for a time, and some that haven't worked at all - and if there's a longer-term, more stable solution, I'd like to find it. What we decided: that I'd start on an extremely low-dose daily antidepressant immediately following the birth. I don't suffer from depression, but apparently this kind of medication can help to shut off the sort of ruminative thinking that characterizes my particular type of anxiety.
(As a side note, this decision to try medication wasn't something I was going to talk about here - it feels so, so personal - but then I realized: am I ashamed that I suffer from insomnia and anxiety? No. Am I ashamed that I've tried lots of different things over the years, and that now I'm going to try this? No. And I know that these are issues that a lot of people suffer from, and that a lot of people feel ashamed about, and I believe with all my heart that there is no shame in being open about your struggles and seeking out help wherever you can find it.)
Stunning, I know.
Let me start by saying that I don't really "do" health-type fads, and certainly not cleanses and/or detoxes, for reasons that I've documented extensively here. But I was seeing this "oil pulling" thing everywhere, and finally I had to try it: it sounded so cool, and so satisfying (you can actually see the toxins?!) and didn't involve not eating, and the benefits that people were saying it had for your body were so tempting that I broke. I just kind of love the idea that something so simple and natural (and cheap!) could have such a hugely beneficial effect, and I also love that it's totally natural and non-invasive and (according to all the research that I found; see below) ok for people who can't or don't use more traditional medications for whatever reason.
Because here's the thing: I feel like crap lately. In the first trimester, whenever anyone asked me how I was feeling my response was, "Ehhh, you know", because I was nauseous and tired and all the things you're "supposed" to be, so I felt justified in a little complaining. But now it's the second trimester, and I'm getting bored of my own whining, and so now when people ask me how I'm feeling I say "great!"