My sister once told me, “I never wanted to do any of those things. Mom pushed me all the way. She brought me from audition to audition. She crafted me into a thespian and modeling classes. YOU were the lucky one she saw as a free spirit who’d rather make mud pies than comb her hair. You played sports and flipped somersaults in the air during all your years of gymnastics and got away with anything. Everything was always about her. Even when I was pregnant with Karenna she said, ‘I can’t believe this is happening to me.’ I never wanted any of what she made me do.”
“And I always thought she did it because YOU were the pretty one, the talented one.”
“You fought with her after The Annie Look Alike contest.”
“She gave me a perm! I was five!”
“She dragged me to New York every weekend on auditions and put my headshot on the refrigerator.”
“Yeah. How do you think that made your tomboy little sister feel?”
“And how do you think it made me feel when you and Dad left every Saturday morning for basketball or soccer?”
“This is a stupid conversation,” already it was making my skin itch in places I would never be able to scratch, “how can people vaporize for years and make you realize the person you thought they were all your life never existed?”
“I love you.”
“……”
“I’ve known you far longer than you ever let me.”
This conversation was three days before we ran a marathon together.
The funny thing about siblings is no matter how old we are we’re still 14 when we are together. I miss my sister more than a simple belief like I will be able to breathing through a sinus infection. Family is everything, I can’t choose them….but I love them and that IS what I give.
I need a chaperone, helmet and muzzle in that order por favor.
The weekend began with the smile of a five year old who had just been rewarded with a trip to Disney World. I was down right giddy at the close of last week knowing I would be spending the next four days with seven of my closest
Houston girls. Early Saturday morning I laced up my shoes and left the house for a run. My step was light as the music picked up so did my pace. In beat with the tempo of the rhythm I danced my way through three miles while watching the sunrise.
The car trip to New Orleans produced headaches galore as Christy blew up the speaker directly behind my head. I was already upset after learning my ticket to the Endimnion Ball was sold by accident. My mood was a negative side effect knowing my friends would attend a ball without me. Late in the evening as the ladies were getting ready a call came through stating a ticket was waiting for me at a hotel a few blocks down. After arriving at the hotel I learned the ticket was not in my name and therefore would not be able to pick up the ticket. I tucked my defeated ticket less self in and began making friends along the parade route while continuing to look at my phone every three minutes waiting for good news. 10:00pm came and went. An ‘unknown number rang through once at 10:05; at 10:15 I answered and rushed back to the hotel to shower and change. By 11:15 I was in the Superdome wearing my gown listening to Taylor Hicks, Journey, and
Styx with Kim, Celeste, Britney, Christy and Sherry.
Sunday’s blur filled day involved a crawfish boil. Bravely I attempted to peel several crawfish for Britney. Upon reaching for the first crawfish I held the tail with my left hand and tore the outer shell off with my right hand while the juice from the mud bug sprayed the guy directly across from me. Apparently there are certain things a life long vegetarian should not attempt to do. Then the night got hazy. The next day I learned I fell down not once but twice which explains the hematome’s on my legs.
Monday was a late start as we made our way to Bourbon Street. Kim had rented a second floor balcony for 120 of her closest friends. The cause for celebration was her “Dirty 30 Birthday Bash”. The photos from the evening were just emailed to me which have helped all of us piece the weekend together.
I can hide my troubles well, but I know from personal experience that once you put the pieces back together, even though you look intact, you are never quite the same as you were before the fall. I’m hurting after this weekend for more reasons than one.
I leave Saturday for Celeste’s engagement party and am in New Orleans all next week for a medical conference. Rest assured I will be bringing a helmet.
When a coal miner enters a mine for hours on end, to mine, poisonous coal gas is released from the earth during the mining operation and a risk to the workers. The workers use canaries to warn the miners of impending danger. Canaries are more sensitive to noxious vapor and will die of exposure before a human, the miners would take them in little cages down into the mine shaft. If a canary died, it was time to get the heck out.
….and it’s a damn good song by the Police
Hey everyone.I’ve missed you all. I’ve been a horrible blogger and lost contact with a lot of you. Unfortunately, I have a lot to say and little time to write it. Life is very busy for me right now. All is well. I remain unmedicated and went through a bought where I sought treatment. I was on antidepressants for a month. I gained what felt like 15 pounds when it was probably only seven pounds. Nothing had changed in my world other than a Rx for Cerlexa. After googling “weight gain & cerlexa” I realized it was the drug that caused the weight gain. A drug that was to improve my mood ended up making me fat, diving me deeper into a feeling of sadness. After realizing the source of my bulge I began talking to my girlfriends about antidepressants. HOLY SHIT - half of them are on something! My roommate says, “Oh yeah, you’d be surprised how many people - girls especially are on some form of antidepressants.” My mother (the nurse) concurred. I can’t help but be reminded of a book I read in college by Aldous Huxley A Brave New World. In this book people enjoy the same things such as golf and tennis; they also take a daily dose of Soma. As perfect pleasure-drugs go, soma under whelms. It’s not really a utopian wonder drug at all. It does make you high, yet it’s more akin to a hangover less tranquillizer or an opiate - or a psychic anaesthetizing SSRI like Prozac - than a truly life-transforming elixir. Third-millennium neuropharmacology, by contrast, will deliver a vastly richer product range of designer-drugs to order. The book was written in 1932. Huxley was trying to warn us against a pharmacological utopian cure to all of our ails. Societies loss of all feeling, and ability to enjoy only the simplest of pleasures.
During this month, I can’t say I was happy …I was monotone at best. I had no sex drive and felt unphased by life in general. The drugs weren’t working as they should have other than for once in my life I could concentrate for more than 40 minutes. I found myself living in a universe with all the human meaning stripped out: a participant in a soulless dance of molecules, or harmonics of pointlessly waggling superstrings and their braneworld cousins. Nature seemed loveless and indifferent in my life. The prospect of seeing a lifetime of genetic enhancement seemed to easy. My mood was elevated however my laugh went dormant. I lost my belly laugh. I lost loud. In college a friend once told me there was nothing quiet about me, ”You’re a loud person all around.” At the time she meant it as a back handed compliment I’ll never forget. My laugh is a deep belly laugh, at times it zooms through a room. I know this because heads turn wondering where the boisterous sound is coming from. I may sound annoying or make people wonder what is so funny. I could care less either way if only because I am drug free and my laugh is back. The weight well, it’s just weight and my jeans are fitting again.
My Mother grew up watching her Father’s addiction to Rx pills. She has always been against pills. In my past there have been times, perhaps months on end where I needed help. My Mother fought the doctors tooth and nail. She fought me irrationally with love while not making a clear argument. I fought her with teenage strife. As an adult, I’m not refilling my Rx. My Mother on the other hand is questioning why I have chosen to do so. Irony lives on. I’ve lived 29 years without the use of drugs (recreational use 94-98 not included) overall I’m a pretty happy person. I’ve never met a stranger who isn’t an instant friend. Kimmy laughs because I’m always bringing a new friend around. She never knows who is going to last long term and who I’ve known for a while but aren’t always in my life. Thing with me is that everyone is always in my life. I don’t talk to everyone every day but I never forget anyone. That’s just me. It’s good to be back cause I’ve missed you.
I remain drug free and happier than any Rx drug could make me.
I’m going to be leaving this site behind to be reposted somewhere else. To many of my family members check this site which makes me cagey.
If you’d care to follow my crazy life that gets crazier by the minute shoot me an email. Late last week the guy who stole my laptop called and offered to sell it back to me. “AH FUCKING HEM - IT’S MY LAPTOP” Can anyone say sting operation?
email is j77henry@yahoo.com
