Tag: anxiety Page 1 of 2

I’m pregnant and I’m not-so-much excited as terrified


Like, really pregnant. Like due in the next few weeks. And I’m JUST getting my head around how to write about this huge life shift.

To answer your first question: Yes, it was a planned pregnancy. (Cue heads exploding.) We just knew that a kid was in our future, and it needed to happen sooner rather than later due to our respective ages and depleting energy levels.

To answer your next question:

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A moment of honesty about my battle with suicidal thoughts

The news of Anthony Bourdain’s death really got to both me and Mike this morning. We spent some time, upon waking up to the news, lying in bed, feeling our feels, and processing it. That dude has a life that I would kill for — getting paid to travel the world and eat all the food! How could someone with a perfect life want to kill themselves? And then I realized that one could say the same about me…

The thought “I want to die” sometimes floats into my brain without me summoning it in any way. Just yesterday I sighed and thought “I just want to die” while I was walking from my bed to the bathroom.

Do I really want to die?

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#Stagpartyof1: I threw myself my own bachelor party alone

Whiskey tasting for one.

Whiskey tasting for one.

My fiancé had his bachelor party this weekend. It’s him and a dozen of his best friends going to Portland for the weekend. I knew I’d have major FOMO since that would be an absolute dream trip for me. But I also knew that my anxiety around forcing friends to spend money, and the fear that people will bail at the last-minute, means that I would never ask for my own big to-do. So my solution (which I thought was brilliant) was to ask my best friend to just babysit me this weekend — just hold my hand and help me work through the vicious FOMO, even if it means just the two of us drinking whiskey and watching Lord of the Rings. But he apparently forgot, and made lots of other plans this weekend. Which left me with an entire weekend wide open, with nothing to do and no one to do it with.

I’ll admit it, old “nerdy kid in high school with no social life” wounds have opened up, and I’m feeling shitty about myself. While Mike has tons of friends who have apparently orchestrated an epic weekend that involves vans being rented, outdoor adventures, surprises, hilarious hijinks, and some mysterious Game of Thrones-themed puzzles… I struggled to get anyone to hang out with me for the next couple of days.

At one point, while I was feeling sorry for myself, I thought FUCK IT, I’ll throw myself my own bachelor party alone. A stag party of one!

Yes, a bachelor party even though I’m a girl. That just feels more in line with my gender identity. Plus I’ve helped plan and execute two bachelor parties, so I knew a bit about what kind of things there were to do of that nature in LA, and I know exactly what I’d want to do for my own. So I kept a constant supply of anti-anxiety meds at my disposal, and planned my #stagpartyof1…

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How I faced my fear of the dentist (if it works for cats it can work for you!)

I just got four vaccines yesterday for my upcoming travels, and I was the biggest baby ever! But there was a time I was brave in the face of needles, and this is how I accomplished it…

White knuckling it at the dentist again today. Thankfully the last procedure for while. This took 10-ish years of avoidance. 2 years of therapy. And 1 amazing dentist buddy. Thank you, @whatsmikeeatingnow. I really hope you regain feeling in your fingers a lot faster this time around. #dentistbuddiesforlife #biggestfear #love

White knuckling it at the dentist again today. Thankfully the last procedure for while. This took 10-ish years of avoidance. 2 years of therapy. And 1 amazing dentist buddy. Thank you, @whatsmikeeatingnow. I really hope you regain feeling in your fingers a lot faster this time around. #dentistbuddiesforlife #biggestfear #love

I’m not just afraid of the dentist. More accurately, I have a “shut down completely, cry when I even THINK about going, prescription drugs are not enough to calm me, once made a dentist too upset to continue working on my mouth, trauma response-level” fear of the dentist.

Until this past year, I hadn’t been to the dentist in almost 10 years. The last time I went, being the aforementioned visit where I made the dentist so upset that he had to call it a day. Yeah, my full-blown panic attack made that professional dentist too upset to do professional dentistry.

What’s that you’re thinking? “What about laughing gas?” “What about drugs?” We tried that. My last dentist gassed me up until the point of “being too dangerous to gas you any further,” and it had ZERO effect. My anxiety level was so high that it ninja kicked that gas straight out of my system. And Valium? It works for the hour before the appointment, and then, when ass meets dentist chair, all the effects disappear.

Which means (for those of you who also have panic attacks, sing it along with me…) shaking, sweating through every layer of clothing, shallow breathing/hyperventilating, chest tightness, blurry vision, tears, nausea, the works.

I was recently talking to a friend, who also has a fear of the dentist, and she asked how I conquered my fear and went to the dentist, not once but THREE times this past year. My answer was that I did NOT conquer my fear, but I did do this…

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This is not my beautiful house: The bittersweet reality of living with someone who owns a house

“And you may find yourself living in a shotgun shack
And you may find yourself in another part of the world
And you may find yourself behind the wheel of a large automobile
And you may find yourself in a beautiful house, with a beautiful wife
And you may ask yourself-Well…How did I get here?”

Me on move-in day, bossing the movers around. ;)

No seriously, HOW DID I GET HERE?

It’s like a woke up one day last week and didn’t even recognize my own life. Things I used to always have, gone. The routines I used to do every single day, gone. Even major self-identifiers, gone.

Where are all my things? Where is my furniture? Where’s my DVR full of my favorite TV shows? Where is that god damn mason jar I use to make dressing? (I can’t find that thing, it’s driving me nuts.) Who am I if I’m not self-described bad-ass, independent bitch, who lives on her own, and doesn’t depend on anyone but herself? Who am I if I’m not the girl who lives behind a porn shop in the quirky apartment that she decorated all herself?

Don’t get me wrong — I’m definitely beyond excited and happy to be living with with my partner. But, I find that I’m struggling with living with someone who owns a house for a lot of reasons…

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I just wanna look good for WHO?: Dressing, dining, and dating as a feminist

My boss lady friend Ariel wrote a great post about “That stupid Selena Gomez song and second wave feminism.” Just from that title in quotations, you probably know the song I’m talking about. I sure did…

So the gist of Ariel’s post was a conversation that ensued between her and her husband about whether or not that song is gross. I laughed, because I had that exact same conversation, except it was just with myself in the car the other day…

“WHAT!? You want to look good for WHO!? Naw girl, that’s awful. Look good for YOU.”

“Oh, but Megan, did you not just wear a skin-tight dress out to dinner the other night in front of a bunch of strangers because your man thinks you look amazing in it?”

“Yeah… shit. I did, huh? That was both fun and weird. Does that make me a bad feminist?”

“It makes you a fun partner.”

“But does it make me a bad feminist?”


“See! I want to make choices for myself not for him.”

“But you made that choice for yourself to make that choice for him.”

“I’m confused.”

“Me too.”

“Just enjoy the music.”

This has been a kind of over-arching theme that I’m self-conversing about a lot lately. There are a lot of times that I have questioned my choices and have questioned the concept of choice itself — What is and isn’t my choice? Am I giving myself a choice? Do I even like my choice? — while dating.

For example, my boyfriend happens to be really passionate about restaurants, and he loves dining out. It happens to be one of my most favorite things to do as well. So there, that’s good. I’m doing something with him that I love to do as well, all is fine. Nothing to worry over here.

EXCEPT! Imagine you’re me: A girl who spent the last 10 years with a partner who didn’t like to go to new restaurants and flat-out didn’t like fine dining options, relegated to restaurants where we knew there’d be a “hamburger” or “pepperoni pizza” options. And you’re now you’re newly single and on a date at a new and super-trendy Mexican restaurant with a guy you really really like. (“Yes! Mexican food,” you think. “I’ve got this.”) Then you are handed a menu that feels more like a yearbook, and the first thing you set your eyes on is this:

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In which bitch needs a break

thinking of maui

My car got broken into yesterday. I also booked tickets to Maui. These two events have EVERYTHING to do with each other.

I just need a break y’all. Both a break in terms of taking a time out — taking time off from single parenting a couple of wild beasts, taking some time away from home searches, and some time away from chain smoking assholes who like to steal iPods. But also in terms of “bitch needs a break” — I just need SOMEFUCKINGTHING to go right for me right now.

I’ve been finding strength and getting centered in Maui since the early aughts. Because of that, I’ve built up a bunch of Hawaiian Airlines miles over the years. And, since my parents have a home there, it’s actually became the easiest, cheapest, last-minute getaway option.

And you know what… I’m already feeling lighter. I just need some time to myself where I’m not stressed out and worrying over details or worrying about someone else. I need to wake up and hear the doves cooing, and the geckos chiriping, and sharks attacking. I needed to feel at home AND a peace.

So if you need me, come Monday, I’ll back on island. And, with any hope, my good luck will be returning with the trade winds.

B-type messes & Tetris dreams: How Tetris helps my anxiety

tetris time

There’s a whole big wide world of nerd-ing that I don’t get: Gaming. I don’t like playing video games, and I don’t really like board games all that much. I’m more of a puzzle kind of girl. But I still have the very first Game Boy that I bought with my very own money. It’s “berry” (because Game Boy Color had just come out) and it only ever has one game inside of it — Tetris.

When I shared that photo above on my Instagram, I immediately got the question “what’s your highest level?” Is that like the Tetris equivalent of “how much do lift, bro?” I think so. 😉 Here’s the deal: Although I’ve been playing this game since I was a pre-teen, and I consistently beat everyone in our yearly family vacation Tetris competitions, I have NO IDEA what my highest level is. But I do remember seeing the rocket at least twice in my life.

I still keep this bad boy in my bedside table, and it’s actually one of the things that helps me manage my anxiety. You wouldn’t think that a game that gets increasingly faster and harder would help my anxiety, but for some reason it does.

Nowadays, I play the B-type levels and work on building the blocks down instead of working on leveling up. I mean, obviously I level-up as I play, but I like the anxiety-easing pleasure of un-fucking the B-type messes. Maybe there’s something about it that reminds me that there’s nothing so fucked up that it can’t be un-fucked. And if all it gets out of control, and I find a B-type mess that I can’t un-fuck, there’s always another chance to fix it, and not just fix it, but clear up the space and level up like a BOSS.

I have always liked to play Tetris before bed because it relaxes me, plus there’s the added Tetris Effect bonus. Have you ever noticed that you dream about Tetris after you’ve been playing it… like… a wee bit too much? Oh yes, it’s been proven playing too much Tetris will pattern your thoughts, mental images, and dreams! To get all Wikipedia rabbit-hole-y with it, it’s a form of hypnagogic imagery!

In short, science has proven that Tetris is the coolest game ever.

You can imagine, then, my immense pleasure when stumbling upon this bedding design on ModCloth…

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How I hacked my timing anxiety with my iPhone

how i hacked my timing anxiety

If you’ve been paying attention, or attended an event with me, or attempted to make a movie date with me, you know that I have intense anxiety. A large portion of my anxiety revolves around timeliness.

I am the most on time mother fucker you know. I’m the definition of “If you’re early, you’re on time, and if you’re on time, you’re late.”

Know this about me…

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Why I’m never taking my dogs to the vet again

He's wearing this muzzle because I can't control MY behavior.

He’s wearing this muzzle because I can’t control MY behavior.

There’s no better testament to how much owners influence the behavior of their dogs than the vastly different experiences Aaron and I have taking Jackson to the vet.

Aaron is the default parent (yes, I’m using the term “parent” because “owner” sounds so sterile) to take the dogs to the vet during emergency situations because I am NOT good with blood and panic-y situations.

But I started taking the dogs to the vet for non-emergency purposes because I’m the parent who works at home. In theory, it’s easier for me to be the vet person.

Now, Aaron always reported perfect behavior from Jackson during his vet visits. But the last few times I took Jackson, he’d get panic-y in the waiting room, cowered from vet employees, and bared his teeth at our usual vet!

WTF, Aaron, you liar!? Our baby is a god damn monster. And he really hates our vet. I have no idea why — she’s a totally sweet lady who always speaks gently to him and treats him well. And he’s NEVER been one to hate people. Other dogs while on a walk, yes. But people? No. (Well, except for that one crazy guy once… thank gawd.)

So this time, when Jackson’s weird neck wounds from two months ago refused to heal up completely and seemed to get worse, I begged Aaron to resume his role as “the vet person.” Jackson behavior and my anxiety was making the visits way to stressful for me. And I suspected that my anxiety may even be triggering Jackson’s mood.

Aaron obliged, and took off work to be a good parent. I wished him luck today as he left the house, even suggested he take the muzzle that had come in handy last time.

Guess what…

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