tortious

in which I cut the bullsh*t

Last week I saw a psychiatrist. He told me that I am in the midst of a severe major depression. He gave me a couple of prescriptions and a referral for a therapist.

Depression isn't something that's new to me - I've struggled with it before. And I didn't need a doctor to tell me that I'm depressed, but I need a doctor to help me get better.

To be clear, I'm not unhappy. And yes, there's a difference. I have wonderful children (my own, and my "bonus kids") whom I love very much; an amazing man in my life; a supportive family; and wonderful friends. I'm smart and accomplished and exceedingly capable, and I'm confident in most aspects of myself.

The problem is that I've spent the better part of two years carrying an immense weight. And I haven't talked about it. I've shut out the people I love instead of asking them for help, because that's something I don't really know how to do. I've glossed over the fact that I haven't really made much progress in any area of my life for a while, and have been in pretty serious denial about what's been going on with me.

I need to unload a lot of the bullshit I've been carrying around: the remnants of an incredibly unhealthy marriage, some destructive behavior patterns, tendencies toward self-medication, and the scars of too many years in which I bled just to remember I was alive.

In the last week, I've started therapy, started medicine, and started waking up at 6:30 every morning, rubbing my eyes, getting some coffee, and trying to do the work. I've almost lost someone I love because I wasn't capable of talking about what was going on with me, and I spent my son's birthday listening to Leona Lewis and crying silent tears while wrapping his presents before I picked him up from school.

It's time to get better.

And I guess I just wanted to be honest with you guys, to remind you that things are not always what they seem; and if you've ever felt like you were just exquisitely fucked up, I just wanted to say . . . Yeah. Me too.

ps, thank you all so much for your wonderful emails, texts, voicemails, and support. you rock. hard.

nothing to say today

just listening to nickelback  on repeat and crying my eyes out

*comments closed

joyeux anniversaire

So, my baby turned six yesterday; which officially makes me monumentally old. Geriatrics aside, the day was filled with festivities, beginning with an in-class party, during which Benj danced the traditional kindergarten birthday cha-cha with his teacher:

(During the party I was informed that Bebo is definitely making it to first grade; at which point I stood in the middle of his classroom and wept.) (Just momentarily.)

Later at the house there were new action figures, a new fish tank; and Transformers birthday cake:

(Tell me that's not some of the cutest sh*t you've ever seen. I mean really.)

After the excitement died down, we parked them all in front of the Playstation and adjourned to the kitchen, where McD sat on the counter with a glass of wine and I sat barefoot on the tile floor (with a glass of wine) and we discussed things like how old we are and he continually belted out "Roxanne! You don't have to put on the red light!" while I attempted to converse with him.

A certain blogger has had me drafting French emails the last few days, and I tried to discuss with The Boyfriend the proper conjugation of avoir; at which time he decided he'd like to learn Italian. Anyway, wrangling four blue frosting saturated sugar-weary children into bed was less than fun; and though they were quite tired, their exhaustion did not prevent them all from being awake at 6:45  this morning:

God Bless America.

Today has been spent working on a summary judgment issue, having lunch with my male BFF, and soaking up the silence. And? I just got beautiful flowers from my boyfriend. (Early Mother's Day treat.) Le sigh.

Have a great weekend!   

the one where I dated a boy with a super bowl ring

Okay, so Mike wants to know about the NFL player I dated. I mentioned this in my 100 Things About Me page; but otherwise, mum's been the word on the whole thing. I'm not sure why it's been a big secret, really. Except for the fact that when we went out, he was a client of the law firm that cut my paychecks. So I guess I wasn't real hype on discussing it.

Anyhoodle, the first time I met this guy was on a spring afternoon in 1999 in Charleston. He was all being flirty with me and I was much more interested in entering billable time into the computer in front of me than I was chatting up some random meathead who came in to meet with my boss. I later commented to a co-worker about how gaudy his taste in jewelry appeared to be, at which point she laughed in my face and informed me that was his Super Bowl ring. Hmm. Anyway, turns out he was a pretty nice guy and I ended up agreeing to go out with him after he was persistent enough to walk me from the office two blocks down East Bay Street one afternoon.

The whole adventure culminated in a sum total of three dates. And while I can honestly say he's a nice guy; that's really about all there was to it. There was a lot more going on between his biceps than there was between his ears, if you know what I mean. I owe him a valuable lesson, though: there's often little more to a football player than a set of shoulder pads. He doesn't play anymore; and although it's true that he was playing in Atlanta at the time I found myself newly single a few years ago, nothing ever came of that. Despite the urging of a few guy friends to give him a buzz and score some sweet game tickets, I was a lot more interested in a certain trial lawyer you may have heard me mention here.

I have nothing bad to say about the experience, but in the end, the Super Bowl ring was the shiniest part of the endeavor. I guess in the long run, the bling will only get you so far. I had a pretty impressive ring myself once - and I tossed it in the Potomac a few years ago. Turns out my love for sparkly things only runs so deep.

between how it is and how it should be

So yesterday I had a hot date:

See?

We saw The Marriage of Figaro at the Atlanta Opera, and McD totally neglected to mention that he'd gotten front row center orchestra seats. Yes, he is a rock star that way. Seriously, I could've reached over and patted the conductor on his fuzzy little head. (Not to worry, I didn't.) Anyway, the seats were totally champ, although had I known, I would've opted for less of a boob dress, seeing as I was providing the first violin with a killer view of my black lace bra for 3.5 hours. (And seriously, he was totally looking. And if someone told you I did racy things with the cherry from my cocktail after the second intermission while he stared uncomfortably with his mouth wide open, I'd likely deny it.)

At any rate, four drinks later I made The Boyfriend seriously mad during dinner (because apparently the champagne is no good for my already lacking verbal restraint), and thusly earned myself a completely silent couple of hours commencing just after the appetizer and ending sometime late last night in the kitchen. I'm such an awesome date. Really.

And I can understand why my less than gentle remarks didn't quite go over so well. But what really sucks is that the whole thing came from my own insecurities - not anything he did wrong, but just me questioning myself, the relationship, and how he feels about it. Normally not an issue but there again, when you add vino and bubbly to my serious lack of an inner monologue, God knows what you'll end up with.

So now I'm slightly hungover and asking myself all sorts of ridiculous questions that people in healthy, happy, functional relationships are not supposed to be asking themselves; and then wondering what he's thinking; and then contemplating the value of make-up sex; and concluding that I'm probably going to end up a bitter, lonely old maid with too many cats and lots of Lifetime television on DVR. And I'll come home from the prosecutor's office at night to an empty one-bedroom apartment and eat a Lean Cuisine and a piece of Sara Lee chocolate cake and probably spend my free time in sweatpants and Notre Dame t-shirts reading my horoscope and meddling in the happy love lives of my well-adjusted friends.

Seriously, I actually really am way emo over the whole thing, but I choose to make fun of myself and spare you guys the gypsy violins.  I'm fairly sure my significant other is pondering ways to break up with me on his way into the office. At any rate, I'ma go sit on the porch with a cup of coffee, and YES, a cigarette too; and listen to Switchfoot and feel sorry for myself before I get back to researching evidentiary burdens.

ps: happy, happy birthday to my three awesome friends who celebrated another trip around the sun yesterday. sorry I didn't tell you on your actual b-day, but as you can read above, I was tres busy seeing an opera, getting wasted, and screwing up my relationship. mazel f-ing tov. i heart you.

asked and answered

The loverly Froggy asks:  1. What is your favourite guilty pleasure cocktail?; and 2.  What is your favourite way to pass time with the Short People?

1. I'm a sucker for good Sex on the Beach. Take that where ye shall.

2. I have to be honest and admit that on a totally selfish level, my favorite short person activity is lunch on the soccer field followed by an afternoon of kicking around with the little ones. But, anything that gets us out of the house is good for me - the park is our most frequent destination, though we also enjoy bowling. I try to make errands and such fun for them as well - we're known to perform rousing renditions of Old MacDonald and the like whilst driving around town. I also really cherish the time we spend reading together. (We're almost done with James & the Giant Peach!)

Fort Knocks had this totally easy question (not): So let's assume that you, like many others including myself, believe that it's impossible to be both a devout Catholic and staunchly pro-choice. Which would you give up?

For starters, I'd just like to say that when I made that statement, the point was to illustrate how deeply I struggle with the social and political issues with which my faith collide. And I can admit to having thought about this one a good bit since the question was posed. On the surface, I would say I'd give up the Catholicism, because the label and the ritual do not on their own a strong and abiding faith make. I could still believe what I believe now without identifying as a Catholic (although I find great solace and healing in the celebration of the Eucharist and I would hate to be without that - rhetorical questions aside, I'm thankful my church would never ask me to). As far as the pro-choice thing goes, clearly I have strong feelings about it - both ways. My oldest son was born during the winter of what would have been my junior year in college, when I was barely twenty-one years old. I made a difficult decision. I know I did what I knew to be the right thing. I also know that life sometimes deals us impossible choices. And far be it from me to judge or to dictate what anyone else may do in their own circumstances. I've lived both sides of this coin.

My darling Nilsa wants a rec on a good overall product line and my feelings on leave-in hair treatments (serums, conditioners, gels and such):

Frederic Fekkai. Period. I've used their stuff for several different hair types (because hi, my shit is curly, colored, and partial afro on the bad days); and everything I've ever used has been totally boss. Fekkai Moisturizing Shea Butter = best shampoo on Earth (I'll bet they have it in heaven too); and anyone who wants to disagree should be prepared to fight. TO THE DEATH. Re. serums and such, I think most are fine, although you should be careful to choose something that's indicated for your hair type; and for any hair type you should always avoid anything too heavy and anything with alcohol. Cream-based formulas are generally the best, and remember: don't shampoo your ends and don't condition your roots.

Ainsley delurked to ask if I have any vices, because I seem so together.

Firstly, thanks for delurking! Secondly, I really am not together; and I don't say that in a Martha Stewart really I'm perfect and just being modest sort of way. I actually am really not very together.

As far as vices, I am presently trying really hard to quit smoking. Beyond that, no particular turpitude comes to mind, although in all honesty I can say that if I have any true vices, they would be denial and avoidance. I can bury my head in the sand like a champ. And it's a very poor way to cope, which really serves only to amplify my problems in the long run.

I also enjoy an obscenely priced cocktail at an upscale bar in a downtown city; I covet things I cannot afford; and I sexually objectify my boyfriend on a regular basis.

Ally (one of my all time favorite bloggers) wants to know if I would ever get married again; and if McD is Catholic?

I can tell you, from a place that feels pretty damn good, that Yes. I would get married again. (And for all my friends who've seen me through the last five years and are sitting in front of the monitor with their mouths open: Yes, hell did just freeze over.) And yes, he's Catholic. (We went to a Catholic wedding this weekend and I was reminded how wonderful it is to have someone in my life who shares my faith.)

Thanks all for your awesome questions. More answers to follow. Hope everyone's week is off to a great start!

~ c

and even though I'm still hungover, my hair was total perfection

Such the exciting day around here yesterday. First, my child care plans didn't work out, and thusly I had the always fun task of getting ready for a wedding with short people underfoot. S'okay though, cause both my babies said, "Mommy, you look rilly buuu-tee-ful." Thusly, my day was made.

And, being the rock star that he is, my awesome little bro' swooped in for the babysitting save. We love him.

At 1:00 pm yesterday, a friend of mine married a friend of McD's, thusly making for a lovely afternoon date in the deep south, complete with gorgeous flowers, a sunny spring day, and mint juleps. Tres fab.

Good times.

Anyhoodle, the evening wedding was an emotional affair, the daughter of the family we grew up with as next-door neighbors. My little brother Andrew is major total BFFs with the bride's brother, I used to babysit them, and the first time they all got drunk was at my wedding many years ago. Old, old friends, the kind you adore like they're family. They lost their dad a few years ago very unexpectedly, and so of course when it was time for the bride to be given by her mom, my bro' and I both cried a little a really lot. But it was a beautiful ceremony and afterwards, it was time to get our party on. Which, we did.

Oh, and did you think I was kidding about my hair? Seriously? Check it out:

Honestly, I think you should click on the one of me and McD for a close-up. It's total curl nirvana. Oh, and yes - the good looks do run in the family ;-)

Anyhoo, those pictures are the nice lovely ones taken before I was all drunk and sweaty. Weddings in the south are always beautiful, and also always hot. Behold all the drunken sweaty glory:

Of course, all these weddings definitely prompted me to bring to McD's attention what a darling flower girl his/our/my vicarious baby girl would make. Le sigh. That's the thing about weddings - don't they always make you want to plan your own? It's so nice to finally be in a happy, healthy place where I can feel so much joy for the people I love. And that's what the day was really all about - a celebration of love, family, and dear friends. And it was so lovely.

My favorite shot of the night, with my always favorite date:

Hope your weekend was as wonderful! Thanks for the EXCELLENT fashion advice. As promised, I wore your selections for both day and evening. Although, the winner for day ended up having a little too much visible boob acreage, so I had to default to the runner-up. Y'all had excellent input - thank you! You guys rock!

xo,
c

plz to help dress tortious, kthxbai

Okay, so we have two weddings this weekend: a 1:00 and a 6:30. I need your input, dear freaders.

Please weigh in on the following choices for the afternoon ceremony:

Contestant Number One:

This is a strapless sundress that I got tres lucky to snag at a tibi sample sale. It's very simple and very spring. It's shown with a white cotton cropped, fitted jacket which I could put over it as this is a church ceremony, just in case I felt a little too bare with nothing on my shoulders. (I probably wouldn't, and plus the jacket is white, so not sure how I feel about sporting it to a wedding.)

Contestant Number Two:

This light pink and white Trina Turk is one of my most favorite dresses of all time. It fits like a glove and is immaculately well constructed. Just makes me happy to put it on.

Contestant Number Three:

This is just a simple, easy cotton GAP sundress. It's a great fabric that hangs really nicely and also has the plus of being really comfortable, and the most versatile in terms of shoe selection.

Finally, Contestant Number Four:

Pink paisley Ann Taylor, which is just plain pretty in a very girly kinda way. Fits quite well and is likely the most "appropriate" in terms of hem length and coverage in the upper areas as well.

And now, the choices for the evening wedding:

Uno:

This plum floral Betsey Johnson has a wonderful draped neckline which is really flattering. I like it a lot, although I'm wondering if the palette is too autumn.

Dos:

Black and white floral toile which has the cut of an old-school party dress with an empire waist and a bit of a flounced skirt, is flattering to the figure, and is really fun to wear.

Finally, Tres:

Bright red floral with a fun sheer overlay and a very flirty cut. Very pretty. Can be rather high maintenance to wear though.

Okay, friends. Whatcha think? Lay it on me.

(ps, thanks for all the awesome questions. i'm really looking forward to answering all of them in my next few posts. thanks for playing along!)

check out my new 'do!

the floor, my darling freaders, is yours

Ask me something. The epic research project ate my brain, and I've already been bitchy once this week, plus I was way emo during some personal stuff over the weekend, so I'm running low on themes. Ask me whatever you like, and I shall respond in kind. I'm known for killer product recommendations, and have an opinion on just about everything; but tend to refrain from knowing much about important stuff like renewable energy sources or climate change. That being said, I will impose no parameters and instead warn you that I play a mean game of truth or dare, so don't ask unless you really want to know.

Leave me a query in the comments. My next post shall answer everything you wanted to know about tortious but were thus far afraid to ask.

Also I have an appointment with a new stylist and given that spring is in full gear here in the deep south, I'm feeling change in the air. Ladies, as you know, this can be a questionable call on a first date with a new stylist. Stay tuned for pictures, or possibly a sob story.

Mu-ah! Cici loves you! xoxo