My very real need for clarity... and it isn't even about a boy.

Most of the time I write for clarity. I am not sure I have ever actually written for anxiety, at least not anxiety that wasn't over a boy but today I am. Today I am going to write through an anxiety attack. This writing will be my therapy or at least my distraction until it passes. 

I am not sure if you have ever experienced an anxiety attack. A real live unexplainable panic attack for no good reason. I get them, I get them a lot. I couldn't even tell you when they started it honestly seems like I have always had them. I know I wasn't treated for them until 2004 after my Thyroid Surgery. Although, the doctors have said my fluctuating hormone levels and cancer at 19 would have brought them on, I'm pretty sure they have always been there. It is an undeniably miserable feeling.

For instance tonight, I have no reason to be anxious. Plans for a meeting at church with my childhood friend Marcus fell through and I had made arrangements for my ex-hubby to keep our daughter but that is it. There is no reason for this. 

It's like shaking, but shaking inside, sometimes I think you can physically see it too. But my mind starts racing and every thought of what could possibly be wrong runs through. Nothing is an issue, I can't find the trigger. I want to cry and leave. So I distract myself with mindless TV sitting in my bed. I love my bed, it's comfortable here. Tonight, this isn't better. It's strong, a shaking and surge of emotions I cannot explain. I cannot figure out why, so then, I feel crazy. Because I have no reason to be crying or shaking, or like I just need to leave my own house. There is nothing wrong here. 

I'm stressed a little, and yes I had a big month of health issues and surgery but I am fine. I started back to work and it was fine. It isn't perfect but it will take me a day or two to get back in the swing of things. I am happy to be there. I am happy to be back. I got an email from my old boss' boss who was my absolute favorite higher level exec I have ever been around. I was so thrilled he reached out to me today. I told him I was in need of a pep-talk, I miss how motivating he could be and I miss him at my company. It all seems a little more unstable since he is gone. My job is stressful but what sales job isn't, especially in this economy. 

I am writing through the incidental fear waiting for my xanex to kick in, which it will. This will pass. I just hate when they start and then I try to be a big girl and just ignore it, hope it will pass, so I let it go on, I let it build. Until finally I take the damn drugs my sound doctor has prescribed me for years. The drug that has this stigma from stupid party kids who want them to get high and binge drink while they take them. A drug that I can take and function on, because when you experience this they help. It helps. 

This writing has helped, I am calm. My thoughts are fluid. I have acknowledged my flaw and it has nothing to do with a boy, its just me. A part of me that I have learned to live with, that I hope I haven't passed on through genetics or unstable upbringing to my precious little girl. 

At the end of this I am better. I feel normal, again. The 15 minutes this took to write and a phone call from my sister reassuring me that my crazy was really OK, maybe not normal but I wasn't alone in it... If you happen to struggle like me, I can only hope you have a sister too. It makes everything better.

The Longest Story-Weekend Of My Life!

I HAVE THIS GIRL FRIEND that I just freaking love. We aren't terribly close but any time we are together it is either in a bar or at an OU Football Game- two of my most favorite places in the world. Obviously, she is good people. 

Friday of OU/Texas weekend; I some how randomly found myself an extra ticket sitting next to a guy I met in the Dallas Airport back in May when my flight home from a work trip was laid over for literally five hours. We became fast friends over draft beer and a hatred for Love-Field. We drunkenly added each other on Facebook, the glue that keeps the world together, and have kept in touch ever since. He happened to have one single shining ticket the night before the biggest game of OU's season and I am just ballsy enough to say "I'll take it!"

I have no plans to go to Dallas, no clue who I will be sitting with, no idea where I will stay, and no magic stash of cash to pay for this epic weekend. I pretty much wake up, head to the office and think I am nuts for agreeing to take this ticket when this appears to be the most un-thought out idea ever. Then, I see my slightly closer than acquaintance Lori updating that she too has decided to go to Dallas with no idea where she is sleeping tonight. I'm not nuts, or if I am, I'm in good company.


I call her up and get the skinny on her plans or lack there of and realize she has a little better safetynet than I do if things go horribly wrong. She offers for us to ride together, score. And her best friend lives in Dallas has rented a seedy hotel room for her. I offer to split the cost and am game for anything! Completely, true because I have NO plans in Dallas, other than a ticket that is not in my hand from a guy I met once in an airport. Solid. 


I leave the office at noon, head home shower, shave- in case I get lucky, and pack a bag. We hit the road by one. As I stated previously the only time we have ever spent together has been drunk at bars or with mutual friends at OU games. So we are both rather gutsy to be starting our friendship off with a weekend road trip. Lucky for me, I know I wont be disappointed as long as there's beer and she wont be anywhere where there wouldn't be. 


The conversation driving down varies from our screwed up out look on men, the fact that we are both Geminis and gossiping about the mutual people we know mostly through the limited party scene in the bustling metropolis of Tulsa, Oklahoma where we reside. 


We aren't as on time as we had hoped and the plan changes from going to the hotel to heading straight to her best friends house. His name is Andy and he lives with his partner Mac. They are waiting on us with Andy's brother Michael and his fiance Jennifer, as well as a random best friend of Mac's, Chelsea. 

It is important you understand the players here so I am going to go ahead and break this little love triangle down for you. Lori use to live with Andy who is gay and comes from an extremely conservative, I only assume Christian-Republican Background his brother is Michael he is straight but a bit older and marrying an attractive successful girl any stepford would love to take in, 30-something Jennifer. Mac, Andy's partner is an attractive flamboyant homosexual with an obsession for all things beautiful. He buys his toilet paper online from Sweden and its Black. Nothing I do in life will ever be as cool as him and Chelsea hit the gay best friend Jack-Pot when they met. 


We arrive, everyone is drinking and waiting on us so we can go eat. I am now crashing their dinner plans since on the drive down, Milk couldn't commit to seeing me. His family was in town. Hell! He wouldn't let me crash at his place since his parents were most likely staying there. Lori and I throw ourselves together, upping the ante on the attire for the evening. Both is dresses, hers so deeply plunging in front that she about started a bar fight the last time she wore it when a catty little bitch told her "to put something under it next time." Mine super short and super backless. Everyone else comfortably in jeans. See, I knew this'd go well.


The SEVEN of us pile into an SUV and head to meet another 15 people at a trendy pizza joint. I am meshing well with Chelsea because she seems to be my kind of people, a drunk with an affinity for finding boys. Lori and I are getting along great and her friends are a blast. We finish up at dinner and head to some club a Hoity-Toity University Alum has rented out for his friends. It's a "private party" with a cover charge and a guest list manned by an army of bouncers. How Mac finagled us onto that list under such short notice, I will never know but am eternally impressed. 


We head in and start drinking overpriced Red Bull and Vodkas. The party is actually kind of lame with the highlights being Jennifer breaking it down to "Pumped Up Kicks" in her jeggings surrounded by sorority girls 10 years younger than us and saying hello to random people I had no desire to ever see again. By this time Milk has fulfilled his familial obligations and gotten a little bit tipsy. The fact that I am in town and he can capitalize on 4 years of sexting has now become a priority. I want to see him too but the whole group is breaking up. I am power drinking as we walk out the door since my buzz isn't quite where I want it; nothing a shot of Tequila and slamming another RBV wont cure.

Now Lori has gotten herself nice and drunk, she remembers Micheal's new business partner, Jarrod-Jared or something is some where and she wants to find him. Apparently he is smokin' hot and Mac has given her the mission of getting a picture of him naked. Andy, Lori and I head to another bar where we pick up four random girls Andy some how knows. Deciding that bar was too packed we go the the ghetto club across the street. This is the moment of a night where an alarm should trigger and the Alert: 'It's All Down Hill From Here' should be magically flashing in view. 


The ghetto club has a line wrapped around the building but since we are a group of 6 white chicks in tiny dresses, we magically surpass, and walk into a standing room only bar that is singing every word to Lil Troy's "Wanna Be a Baller." I should tell you this is not the first time I have sang "I wanna be a baller, shot caller; twenty inch blades on the Impala" with 300 complete strangers. 


All of us order RBVs and I report my current location to Milk who is "coming to get" me. I convene with the girls by the bathroom and have this actual conversation with Lori.
"Milk is coming to get me, I am going to crash with him."
"What!!??? He's coming here..."
"Yes, but just to pick me up."
"Well, bring him back here."
"No, I am going with him I will call you in the morning."
"OK. I will see you when you get back here." wink wink...


I realize she is not totally getting what I am telling her but Andy is no where to be found and Milk is waiting. I bail.


I walk out of the ghetto club that essential shares a building with a seedy 7-11, my long legged white ass climbs into a Mercedes. Pretty sure, I look like a hooker but I am so excited to see Milk! We head to his house and the calming effect of being with some one I trust for the remainder of the evening allows the mass quantities of Vodka I have consumed to catch up with me. I go from seemingly put together to trashed in the matter of a few miles but its OK, I'm with Milk. 


Eventually, Andy realizes I am missing. It's nights like this I thank god for Mark Zuckerberg because Andy doesn't have my phone number nor I his and Lori's cell is completely dead but we can all Facebook. Andy finds me on her friends list, sends me a frantic message about losing me to a large black man asking for an immediate reply to his cell. I honestly don't know how people survived before the digital age. I respond to his Facebook with a text letting him know I am safely with Milk and my number so he can get a hold of me tomorrow.

Milk's condo is immaculate, set in a very trendy part of Dallas. I fawn over his adorable dog and we fall comfortably onto his new leather sectional. For the first time ever, we kiss. 


I have flirted insistently with him for years, although our friendship began with me hooking up with his childhood best friend at an OU game in 2007. Somehow, we have remained in contact and over the past few years have gotten to know each other rather well. I adore him. and over the years he has shown that he obviously cares for me. We have allowed sexual tension to build between us since early 2010 so this night had better be ah-mazing.


It was, by any standard fantastic. I am sure I could fall completely in love with Milk if it weren't for the 5 hours between us. I could gush about him for another few lines but let's get to the part of my trip that doesn't seem to magically go according to plan. 


On about 3 hours of sleep Milk falls out of bed to go tailgate at like 6 f'ckin' 30 in the morning. He tells me to stay and he'll call me later. Around 8 I call Lori as she is just throwing herself together to get to the stadium. My ticket to the game fell through some where are 11 last night so I really don't need to be any where other than in front of a TV. I have beer, chips and salsa, a dog, Milk's sweats and a TV. I am set. As odd as this sounds, the lack of having a plan is phenomenal. Milk texts me how to turn on his monster of a entertainment system, I take a shower and plop comfortably on the couch for the forseable future. 


Around 4 the game is over, Lori is drunk, Milk is partying but Andy is back at his house; with such amazing planning on my part I put my clothes on from the night before and climb into a taxi. When I fall gracefully out of the cab onto Andy's front porch I am fully dressed in my skanky dress from the night before complete with 5 inch heels, my jewlery and belt but minus any make-up and dignity. Andy literally looses his breath laughing at me as he opens the door, "Fun Night Princess?" I respond with, "I have showered" which makes it a little better, I like to think. I excuse myself to change into my adorable OU dress and cowboy boots that I had planned on wearing to the game; reapply my make up and run some product through my second day curls- Damn, I have great hair.


This story would have been even more fun if I didn't spend the day on Milk's couch and I will probably rewrite it including myself in all of the things I miss. The adventures from 8am to 4pm are as follows:


Every one across the Big D planning to attend this epic event wakes up wasted. I think they actually schedule an 11am kick off because if either school were given a day to pre-party this event, the crowd of 75,000 belligerent drunks would be uncontrollable. It's one of the greatest rivalries in all of college football dropped in the middle of the Texas State Fair. 


Lori, Andy (and myself in the rewrite) actually make it to the stadium before kickoff. We woke up to early morning mimosas followed by a nice 9am beer. Somewhere in the middle of the first half Mac and Chelsea show up, devastatingly hungover since they partied until 4am. At half time the stadium empties so the masses can chug a few draft beers before re-entering. Chelsea trying to power through finds a tree to sit under and drink her beer. The smell of fried everything must've hit her wrong. Looking all "to kill a mockingbird," she proceeds to vomit under the tree in the middle of the crowded fair. This thrusts her forward in the healing process because by the time the game is over, she and Lori want to wonder around a bit. Lori has finally found Jarrod-Jared and he is as delicious as she remembers. Andy needs a nap and his brother and Jennifer have headed back to the house.  (I need something other than beer)


This is where the story comes back around to being "a true story, where the events are real, and only the names have been changed to protect the innocent."


Jennifer has a wedding dress to get into in a few months so she opts to run a 5k while Andy takes a nap leaving Michael and myself to fend for ourselves. We decide its time for more drinks! 


"So what do you want, beer or liquor store?" Michael says. "I don't really care, I can do either."
"Well choose, what do you want to drink?" He insists. 
"I am kind of sick of beer but I can drink it." 
"OK. Let's get liquor, what do you like?"
"I seriously will drink anything..." I protest again. I can tell he wants me to make this damn decision, but then I point out, "if we get liquor we'll have to stop for mixers." 
"Damn, you are right... or we can just drink it straight," what a brilliant response!
"I can drink it straight. What do you like?"
"Vodka?"
"Sure, I really can drink just about anything straight."

You wouldn't believe how proud we are of ourselves deciding to drink straight vodka so we don't have to make another stop for mixers. We pour ourselves two Grey Goose, on the rocks with lime and sit down to watch more of the games this is where I meet Derek. Michael's high school buddy that has come to join us for the evenings festivities. He is deeply enthralled in some article in Newsweek or Popular Science or some other intelligent magazine. He arrived earlier but didn't actually become interested in participating in this story until we started drinking Vodka. 


Derek, made himself a girlie version of our drinks, he added juice. We sat together on a couch and had some generic getting to know you conversations as Michael and I proceeded to get wasted. The rest of the gang joins in, with Lori and Chelsea making it back from the game. Originally, Lori was hell bent on leaving Saturday night- she likes to go to the gym on Sunday and knew that would be out if we stayed. But as I suspected and hoped she was too tipsy to drive us home and we opted to stay. Yippee. 


The girls all change into our going out attire, another little dress but with boots for me this night. I am feeling rather fabulous, as my hair is prefect the second day and I am getting hit on by Derek even after he watched my walk of shame in my dress on from the night before and heard me recount my night of passion for the girls, ogling over how stinkin' cute Milk is. Jennifer runs off with her girl friends for a night out and the rest of us form a plan to meet up with some other friends at a Americanized Mexican restaurant. 


Upon arrival it looks like rain but we opt for a table on the patio. The party of people we are meeting are inside but it is quite obvious that we are going to be a rambunctious group, to say the least. We eat the most amazing crab nachos I have ever tasted and my swirl margarita tastes divine. The other table merges to our area when they finish their meal. I am not sure how they all fit in but they are all gay. This makes Derek, obviously uncomfortable, he doesn't quite appreciate the gays, which in turn eggs them on even more. At the point one of him licks his cleanly shaven head he takes my hand leans in for a small kiss and pretends I am his girlfriend. I take this cue and cordially respond with an over protective bitchy possessiveness topped off with a slight southern accent.

Every one wants to go to a gay bar and I know this night will not end well if I forge onward since I have essential split a bottle of Vodka with Michael and capped it off with a Margarita the size of my head, maybe not head but definitely a large breast. Derek drove and is dying to get out of there, Michael and I both don't need any more to drink so we go on a quest to find his car. When we finally find the damn thing Derek had refused to Valet on principle, it is pouring down rain and we have walked 10 blocks; six in the wrong direction. When we get to the car it is a two-seater BMW. I end up on Michael's lap and the entire way home he is instructing me to never tell his fiance'. Sorry Jennifer, desperate times, desperate measures. 

Back at the house, Derek makes his move to which I politely kiss him back and then immediately fall asleep on his shoulder. I don't know what kind of girl he thinks I am! Probably the kind who will sleep with a guy the night I get into town, gush over it with my girl pals and then go out with him the next night; but even I have my standards. 


Michael heads into the room to pass out, I am asleep on one half an 'L' shaped couch with Derek on the other half and the Rangers Game blaring. In and out of consciousness, I hear Michael's phone go off and him answer, he says something like "He's sleeping on the couch with Sunshine" to his fiance'. In her drunken stupor this translates to, "I'm sleeping with Sunshine." Which immediately means sex and that he is cheating on her. What can I say?  Bitches Be Crazy. This doesn't fully register but when she gets home steaming mad yelling at him and I hear my name flying around I make a mental note to inquire about the ruckus in the morning. Andy and Lori get in before 2am. Derek leaves some where around there. 

Then, Mac and Chelsea come home. I have to say the worst place to fall asleep has to be on a gay man's couch. No matter how well they can decorate it is by far the most uncomfortable thing in the 'History of Places to Crash.' I hear an after party going on in the front portion of the house. I wake up several times: Once to Chelsea flipping the light on search of toilet paper. I guess the back up white rolls were in the office where I was asleep. Then again, when Mac was talking about how great the Missoni at Target line was and how quickly it sold out. Finally, around 6am I hear some one in the kitchen. I decide to get up and see who is up and around.


I find Mac, Chelsea and a small South American looking man huddled under and over sized patio umbrella drinking wine. Apparently, they have been up all night, although when asked directly, Chelsea initially lied to me saying they had just awoke and decided to start partying.  "I mean why not, it's OU/Texas weekeeeend!" Holy hell these people are nuts. I'm going back to bed. 


About 8, I hear Lori wake up and I go get in bed with her and Andy. They tell me about the bar and then bailing after the gay bar, before the gay strip club. So, that is where the after party came from- A male strip club. Michael hears us awake and comes in as well. He proceeds to tell us that when Jennifer got home, she thought he and I were sleeping together. Something about a miscommunication over the phone. This sparked an Ah-Ha moment for me. "I was wondering why she kept yelling my name." But then an overly intoxicated Mac enters the room to steal my adulterous (not really) thunder. All we get out of him before he passes out at the foot of the king size bed the four of us are lounging on is, that the guy Chelsea is with is a stripper and he just took a xanex. I need coffee.


I return from the kitchen with Michael and coffee, Mac still passed out, Jennifer has joined and the discussion of how we managed to wind up with a stripper in our midst's commences. From what we can piece together without any of the responsible party being conscious or present, is that Mac invited everyone from the male strip club back to the house for an after party. Chelsea hand picked her Latin lover. I confirmed he was short, a soccer player and was only speaking Spanish when I met him at 6am. I am not sure who realized that we were all in the bedroom leaving them alone on the front living room couch but whoever decided to walk out the door first got the first glimpse of his Latin love making abilities. He was on top of her going at it and although they were mostly covered, no one really wanted to interrupt.

The way the house is set up, to leave this room would have you walk in direct eye line of Jose' and that just wouldn't be fun for anyone. Lori and I are laughing hysterically; I in disbelief that any one would out do me on the 'slut scale' with my mid afternoon arrival looking like a tramp. Michael respectfully closed the door and Jennifer said she'd give'em 10minutes before she was getting in the shower. Andy said that Lori should text Jarrod-Jared with the scenario we all were currently faced with because it was so absurd and true, he'd appreciate the laugh and Mac was still passed out on the foot of the bed. We had two dogs nestled in there too.


Ten minutes later, Jennifer hit the shower passing Jose' texting away next to a passed out Chelsea. I stood up and realized the boy briefs Mac had on revealed an actual tramp stamp on his lower back. This sent the four of us into a whole new uproar of laughter. We opted to capture this glorious moment with a few photos that would later grace Facebook with the final caption being "are those Missoni briefs?" 


The five who could function opted for breakfast at a gorgeous organic restaurant. We sat on the patio amidst the garden our meals were prepared from. Sort of trying to bring in  some class to offset the ridiculous weekend we had. I have never laughed so hard, or been so happy I was a writer so that this story could survive us all! Long Live OU/Texas Weekend!

A Sexually Charged Generation of Females

I am just as guilty as any other relationship blogger of having aspirations of becoming Carrie Bradshaw. Actually, that isn't true at all but I can see where the inspiration of that character has it's place in the mind of the late 20s to 30s female.

I am a pretty big Sex and The City Fan. I love both movies and although I was 15 the summer it premiered; I followed the show as best I could. By Seasons 5 and 6 I was engaged, married and having a baby of my own so I sort of hit fast forward and got to a relate-able stage in life alongside the show at the ripe age of 20. 

One of the most noticeable changes in American Culture is the ownership women have taken in being sexual creatures. Casual encounters are less taboo and widely spread in the bar/party scene. With characters like those in Sex and The City or Chelsea Handler and even more local relationship writers. You can do just about anything without feeling much shame and I live in the middle of the Proverbial Bible Belt.


As I write this I realize my sisters and closest friends are the main people I have shared this blog with, I haven't been quite ready for the mass of acquaintances to judge my ever changing relationship status' and past love conquests. Nor do I think My Future Husband would greatly appreciate our actual interactions being posted for others to access. So bare in mind, the audience I am speaking to is primarily Myself. 


Self: When did you become such a slut? OK, that is a bit harsh but by most standards I would be considered sexual promiscuous at best. With so many different ways to justify the one night stand and growing up in such a sexually charged environment. It's a wonder there are even girls left with a high moral compass that isn't based on some archaic religious belief. It is terrifying to think of what sexual expectations will be placed on girls by the time my own daughter comes to age. 




The movie Clueless was my bible in 7th grade. I can still recite the entire screenplay as well as sing the soundtrack. It was so sexually charged I don't think my mother every actually watched it, she just trusted those PG-13 guidelines. In those same formative years I actually knew girls that lost their virginity. Albeit wasn't the norm by any stretch but it happened and I was friends with them. I went from first kiss to deflowered in about a year. I don't regret losing my virginity at 16 to my High School Boyfriend, but I don't have the same since of fondness for the subsequent randoms, I hooked up with after he broke my heart. 


By the time I met my first husband, I was pretty comfortable with myself sexually which worked out fairly well since he was eight years my senior. But by the time we got divorced I had begun to associate rebound sex with the healing process- I still think that way. I remember in an off-handed hurtful conversation my ex-husband actually said to me, "Well, you have to get under one to get over another." He meant it. He spent the first three years of our life post-divorce breaking hearts. I spent it looking to fall in love again. As luck would have it here we are six years later, he is in a serious monogamous relationship and I am still single for the foreseeable future. 


I wasn't raised this way, I wasn't raised to have complete indifference towards the value of being sexually intimate. You wouldn't know of my fairly traditional Methodist upbringing by reading this blog. When did we as a society, and me personally begin to see sex as just sex. I obviously sleep with men I like, but generally there is little hope for a future. 


One of the things I hope to change in this year, with a little help from my therapist, is to regain a since of reverence towards sexual intimacy. Being sexually "free" has not done me much good in the relationship department over the past few years. Maybe my little heart wouldn't get so battered when I did share that experience with someone I care about. I also, wouldn't prematurely develop feelings for men... Ehem, MFH... if I took a little more time before sharing a bed. 

Here's to a little more self control and a lot more self love in the New Year!