On this day one year ago...

...I was getting lost in the Louvre. Literally.

On this day one year ago, I was laughing hysterically at all of the lying "sortie" (exit) signs.
On this day one year ago, I was imitating a statue along with the sweetest (now 14) year old girl I know.
On this day one year ago, I saw the Mona Lisa.

I went to Paris, France on 11/09/12 with two of the most incredible people I have the pleasure of knowing. We laughed, we cried, we wished, we climbed, we bundled up, we ate, we were cold the entire time.

I don't think I could ever fully recount the trip I took to Paris and do it justice. I think it would take about a week ... one full day of explanation for each day we were there. And then some.

I found peace and inner strength I never knew I had on an overcrowded, smelly, loud metro. I locked up a padlock on the Seine river railing, threw one key into the water and kept one... always to remind myself that it's there and my wish is still being fulfilled. I took so many pictures because I never wanted to forget the moments we all had together.

We got lost multiple times, as you should in a foreign country (to an extent). We ate the freshest bread, the most incredible chocolate, and hot wine. Yes, hot wine.

A local bar sang Happy Birthday in french directly to me, of course on my birthday. My 21st birthday.

We hand-fed birds outside the Notre Dame after climbing to the top of it. We shopped on one of the most famous shopping strips in the world. (And spent about $20 each)

We want to go back. We want to have more unbelievable experiences. We want to make wishes on the Seine River. We want the freedom of no phones, limited computer access, and exploration as a foreigner in a foreign land.

I can never thank my (for lack of a better word) "sponsor" for bringing me along and sharing the experience with her and her daughter. Words cannot describe how grateful I still am for the once-in-a-lifetime experience. Hopefully it won't be once in my lifetime that I get to travel across the pond, though.

To Jamie and Caryss,
Thank you from the bottom of my heart for sharing this experience with me. With you, it made the trip that much better. No one could have given me the same experience that you two did. Love you. XO

Study breaks, EMDR, and Yogurt the Pirate

While I sit here, listening to my Bach Pandora Station, trying to not procrastinate this abnormal psych exam I have tomorrow, I remembered that I need to keep blogging my updates with EMDR! So I'm taking a study break to write this. Hallelujah.

I had my second EMDR session today with my therapist. I went in expecting to have the same reactions as I did before, end up with a 4-hour-long hangover afterwards and not be able to study for my exam. I knew what to expect. I have done this once before. There's a pattern to this type of therapy.

Let's rewind a little. A few weeks back, Paul and I decided to go to see Cloudy with a Chance of Meatballs II (Hilarious and so, so, SO clever. A definite recommend.) The movie theater we went to is literally one width of a highway away from a local regional airport. I knew this since I have been there before, and I knew that I needed to expect some planes flying all around and landing super close. After the movie, we decided to walk around, window-shop, and people watch (one of our favorite past-times together!) We were crossing the street at a little roundabout, and I heard it. I can hear it before anyone else I know. I heard a plane getting ready to fly over and land. It flew over us, while we walked down the sidewalk. He looked at me, expecting me to get wide-eyed, have trouble breathing, shake, and the most common effect, squeezing the blood from his hand. Nothing happened. He asked if I was okay after I looked up at the plane (ok, so I'm not THAT cured yet...) and I just said a very flippant "yep!" and kept walking and finishing my probably compelling story. I surprised him, and frankly I surprised myself. Why wasn't I freaking out like normal? Why wasn't I embarrassing myself in front of hundreds of people? My track record with this situation is NOT a pretty one.

Fast forward.

I was sitting there in my therapist's sweet little room in a big comfy chair. After the whole check-in that any normal therapist does, she said "so you're sitting in the chair..." (She had asked me after the last session to sit in "the chair" if I wanted to do EMDR and to sit on the couch if I didn't.) I said "yep! Let's do some EMDR." So we did.

Just thinking about the reaction, the fear, the simulated panic, I was starting to tear up just by her talking about what we were going to do. Just by mentioning the situation that I was going to reminisce upon - Mexico in June. Plane flew lower than I've ever seen before. Ran off the volleyball court in a full blown panic attack. Nice and embarrassing to me and my poor boyfriend. So we did things a little differently this time.

First she asked me to think of a different "happy place" than last time. So I remembered this one scene from the movie Just Like Heaven. Reese Witherspoon sitting on a bench in the middle of the most serene garden one can imagine. Thinking of sitting there, smelling the flowers, hearing the trickling waterfall, and feeling the cobblestones under my feet got me out of a very scary panic attack I had a year ago. (I was quite proud of myself, if I do say so)


This wasn't the scene but it's close enough...

So I pictured my mental rendition of this as she moved her fingers back and forth, back and forth, in front of my eyes - the "rapid eye movement" part of EMDR.

With the amount of relaxation I felt, I could have just gotten back from this garden.

Then we started with the scary stuff. As soon as she said we're switching gears, my heart started to beat faster, my breath became shallower, and my torso started to tense up. I was literally bracing myself for what was coming.

So she turns on the little beepy buzzy thing and we start. She tells me to focus on that feeling of "I'm not safe" and it begins.

We went through all the motions and I barely shed a tear as opposed to last time where I was crying so much, I nearly filled my bra up with tears. (Graphic, but hey... I'm only human and sometimes we have to have ugly cries!)

I was astounded at myself. Was it really this easy? One or two sessions and I'm cured of my stupid ridiculous plane phobia? Couldn't be.

We were both surprised at the lack of emotion I had to the whole session. Yes, I did want to hyperventilate a few times and she had to make me breathe correctly, but still. Even that's an improvement if you read my first post about this therapy.


Maybe I'm being a little too hopeful but what if just one more session cures me? What if I can go to a county fair (because they're ALWAYS next to an airport) and not have to hide under tents the whole time? This will be a HUGE, and I mean MAJOR milestone for me emotionally.

I can't wait to not have to explain to people why I'm flipping out over a stupid plane. The only time that I want to freak out at a plane flying overhead is if:
1. I can see the people's faces... because that's just too low and I shouldn't be that close to a landing plane anyways.
2. A wing is torn off and it's smoking and going to crash, but anyone would freak out at that sight.

 I'm hopeful. I'm excited.

On a totally unrelated note, as anyone seen this going-viral pup? His name is Yogurt the Pirate Dog. He's a Chihuahua from Eastern Asia (I don't remember which country...China maybe?), he has one eye, and he can't stop sticking out his tongue. He has thousands and thousands of followers because he is probably THE CUTEST DOG IN THE WORLD. Which is saying a lot. Because I think really, really highly of my puppy's cuteness.

My Jackson:

 

Yogurt the Pirate Dog (and his instagram):

.

.

.

.

.

 And a bloodhound running on the beach...

You're welcome.

Eat the Damn Cake

"Pick a card, any card..."
5 of Diamonds. Do 5 Sumo Deadlift High Pulls. Pick a new card.
10 of Hearts. Do 10 Thrusters. Pick a new card.
3 of Spades. Do 3 Box Jumps. Pick a new card.
King of Clubs. Do 12 Kettlebell Swings. Pick a new card.


This was one of our WODs, or Workouts of the Day, for those of you who don't cross-fit. *Dramatic hair flip*

This was probably one of our more difficult workouts, and in true cross-fit fashion, it was a race. My partner and I got through our entire deck, pulling one card after we finished the workout of the previous, in 13 minutes and 38 seconds; we were the first team to finish. I felt exhausted. I felt faint. I felt hot. I felt pretty good. We had finished first! I felt so accomplished because I have never been first in a physical contest. I beat the MEN. Is this real life?

In my moments of mixed emotions of elation and physical exhaustion, why was I feeling so unfulfilled? Every cross-fit workout had ended like this. Was I not doing something right? No, coach said I had perfect form. Was I not going hard enough? No, I was freaking exhausted. Then what was it?

_______________________________________________

This was two weeks ago. I had one or two workouts since then and then I ended up quitting mainly for time constraint. I really did enjoy cross-fit, but I think mainly because of the friends that I was making there. You know, only being on campus for 2 months and having instant friends feels pretty damn good. But I decided that being in a constant time-crunch wasn't worth it. And you know what else? (plug your ears, cross-fitting lovers!)

1. Cross-fit wasn't working. 
 I wasn't getting toned. I wasn't losing weight. I wasn't feeling amazing. If anything, I felt worse. I was so tired all the time. I could NOT get over a respiratory virus that I had gotten 6 WEEKS PRIOR. I'm not exaggerating. It took at least 6 weeks to get over the thing. I thought I was in decent shape... I teach Zumba, I add strength training in my own routine, I'm pretty fit. But I was seeing zero results.

2. I was over working myself. 
 I was over exerting my body. I wasn't made for this.
Here was my schedule...
Monday and Wednesday: Class until 11:15am, dance practice from 6:30-8:00pm
Tuesday: Class until 3, Cross-fit from 6:30-7:30, Teach Zumba from 8:00-9:00pm.
Thursday: Class until 10:40, teach group fitness from 12:15-1:00, class until 3:00, Cross-Fit from 6:30-7:30.

Doesn't sound like a lot on Mondays and Wednesdays, does it? It really wasn't. But if I wanted to have a good dance practice, I couldn't work out ahead of time. I would have been too tired.

Going with this schedule while trying to get over a virus? Forget it. It wasn't happening.

So besides the overloaded schedule, trying to uphold a wonderful relationship with my also-full-time-student boyfriend, and working out literally every single day, why wasn't I fulfilled?

I was so excited to be this active and would joke often that "if I don't get a ripped body by the end of the semester, I'm giving up and eating ice cream every night in the spring."

3. I wasn't happy. 
I wasn't feeling fit or toned. I was tired, sluggish, weak, ended up injuring both ankles, AND developing a stomach ulcer, all the while STILL GETTING OVER THE VIRUS FROM HELL.

4. The kicker...
I had a "EUREKA" moment after one session a few weeks ago. I didn't feel safe. Yes, obviously I was confident in some of the exercises, like squats, running, jump rope, etc. But the Olympic lifting stuff was NOT for me. My hands are too small for the technical "hook grip" (where your fingers grip over your thumb while holding a bar...imagine making an "M" in sign language), I do not feel safe lifting this 35 lb bar over my head because what if, as a fault of my incorrect grip, it comes smashing down on my head? They didn't teach us these things. When I told my coach that my hands are literally too small to do a hook grip, he laughed and said "well, you'll get used to it." Get used to what, holding the bar incorrectly because of my anatomy?

^^ Aforementioned hook-grip. ^^ 

But that wasn't the only reason I didn't feel safe...

5. I'm a trainer. Not a trainee.
I never went 100% in our workouts because I knew... I just intuitively knew that if I did I wouldn't come out unharmed. There was just something about the specifics of the routines that I wasn't comfortable with. I still can't put my finger on what it was. But the speed at which we had to do everything, the mentality of "unless you're injured, being in pain isn't bad", go as fast as you can, bleeding and bruising aren't a bad thing, puke happens, blah blah blah... I don't agree with any of that. It's one thing for an Olympic athlete to bleed and bruise and hurt and puke because they typically know what they're doing. Getting blisters and bleeding when I'm dancing is normal because it's just what happens at more advanced levels of a sport. But being a newbie in the cross-fit world and just now learning the lifts and the workouts, bleeding and bruising isn't something one should be proud of. Once you're competing, then talk to me about wrecking your body, but being a beginner the only thing you should be getting is sore muscles and calluses.

My friend Mia sent me an article that explains a secret in the cross-fit world. It's called Rhabdomyolosis, or "Rhabdo" for short. Now the article I read was focused on the dangers of Rhabdo and Cross-fit, but truth be told, this could happen with any extreme fitness routine. But since I'm fresh off the cross-fit bus, this hit home. I also have a bunch of friends who are slightly addicted to the form.

Basically, this "Rhabdo" happens when you workout under extreme conditions... and I don't mean working out in the arctic or in the Sahara. I mean pushing yourself literally to your limit of "I physically cannot do any more reps" and then not being able to move your arms the next day. What happens when you do that is your cells actually start exploding under pressure and they leak a protein into the blood stream called Myoglobin. The myoglobin gets filtered through the kidney, and since myoglobin isn't supposed to be in the bloodstream to begin with, it makes the kidney say "what the fuck is in me!?" and then your kidneys go on strike. It can kill.

 People have had amputations and have died from this condition because they went too hard. It happens in Olympic lifters, marathon runners, professional dancers, and cross-fitters alike. (And any other sport than can be extreme.)

__________________________________________________

"But Erin, how DO you get fit?"

Eat well. Work out. Sleep well. Done. 

People often think that changing their diet means to cut out everything they like. The only thing I will swear by cutting out is soda. Cut out the damn soda. It's gross. It's gross for you. Don't drink it. But everything else is fine in moderation. And by moderation I mean, let yourself have one small sweet thing every other day. Not a whole candy bar... maybe half of one. Not a whole bowl of ice cream, maybe a scoop and a half with some fresh fruit. But couple it with a healthy, wholesome diet. Just cutting back on sweets isn't going to do much. Add more color onto your plate. Peppers, leafy greens, veggies, lean meat, a half a cup of a carb. Done. Healthy.

Then you see it. You see on the menu, in your pantry, at the buffet, whatever, a piece of double chocolate dream cake. Damn. Now you want that mother f*cking cake, don't you? Eat that damn cake. Eat it like you've never eaten a (small) piece of cake before.

Then go run. Not immediately obviously because you WILL see that cake again, just not in the most appealing form. Run that evening, run the next day.

People will say "cut out ALL sugars and ALL carbs and you'll lose weight." Well, duh. That will work, I promise you. But you'll be freaking miserable and end up having a bad night and polishing off an entire box of Oreos while you watch The Notebook and wondering where you went wrong in your life to deserve this.

*DO NOT DEPRIVE YOURSELF*

Our bodies need sugars, carbs, and fats believe it or not. Just not all the time or in huge quantities.

Eat the damn cake, then go for a run soon after. Drink water, not soda. Eat carrots, not french fries. Eat a salad, not a meatball sub. Take the stairs, not the elevator. There are so many little tweaks you can make in your life that will make you healthier AND happier... not healthier and wanting to punch a kitten because you didn't let yourself have a crumb of the cake you made for your husband.

*WORK OUT MORE*

Get a personal trainer, seriously, spend the money and get a good one that you like and agree with. It's worth it. Plus we trainers need the money ... trust me. They will give you tips on how to tweak your current diet into something that you can handle. None of this "4 almonds for breakfast, swordfish for a snack, and grass-fed bison for dinner with a side of air" crap. You're not a body builder or a fitness model.

Sure you can push yourself when working out... that's what makes it work. Hard work. Sweat, sometimes pain, sometimes being sore. But it sure as hell beats your cells exploding.

Go on Pinterest. Stalk your fitness friends "perfect body board" (because they don't already have an insane body...) and pick up some exercises that don't make you quiver in fear. Being comfortable with what you're doing is a huge thing. If you're not comfortable doing 107 Thrusters in a row, then you probably shouldn't do them.



But eat the damn cake.

I'm alive!

(Because I have thousands of viewers and followers who regularly follow my blog posts...)

I'm alive. I looked at my most recent blog post and it was from JUNE. I guess I've been busier than I thought. If you do read my ramblings, I posted one about a year ago mentioning an irrational fear of planes flying over my head. I said that I was going to do whatever it took to get over that fear...

A quick background if you are already lost. I have a very intense phobia of planes flying over my head. It gets so bad that I've hyperventilated at 80mph and almost driven off the road. I shake uncontrollably, I am crying so hard that I can't breathe, and sometimes I've almost thrown up. It's bad. And it's been in my life since I can remember, complete with a home video of 1-2 year old Erin screaming "Ehpane! Ehpane!" with the familiar buzzing in the background of a plane flying over. So since it's starting to affect my safety along with others safety, I decided with the push of my boyfriend, that I needed to end this. I have to get over this fear before I hurt myself or pass it down to my kids. So I started looking for a therapist about a year ago.

You know what helps getting over fears? Therapists that actually listen to you. Even though I never posted a follow-up like I said, it was because I couldn't find a damn therapist who could work with me. I felt really alone and like no one had ever heard of an irrational fear before. Other people have to have phobias or there wouldn't be a word for it. Most of the therapists I had been to before now either didn't know how to approach the phobia and said they couldn't help me or said "it's because you're angry at your dad". Yes, this fear appeared at a year old because I was angry at Dad for not giving me my mac n' cheese in the right bowl.

It's more than that, it's bigger than that, and frankly, I think that's just an easy way out for some psychologists.

Here's my very belated follow-up...

Before I moved up here to the Smoky Mountains (UNCA), my mom found a little blurb on a business card or something that said "Open doors you never knew existed". Boy howdy, was that true. And is continuing to be true.

I went to the Health and Counseling Center to not only find a counselor for normal counselor superpowers, but I wanted to find someone who would be willing to help me tackle this strange phobia. I was recommended this one counselor who was said to do EMDR therapy for phobias. I had never heard of it before, but it sounded legit, so I set up an appointment. No harm in simply trying anything, right?

Here's what EMDR is... *clears throat in a scholarly fashion*

(If you read it with a British accent, you feel SUPER smart.)

"Eye Movement Desensitization and Reprocessing is a comprehensive, integrative psychotherapy approach. It contains elements of many effective psychotherapies in structured protocols that are designed to maximize treatment effects. These include psychodynamic, cognitive behavioral, interpersonal, experiential, and body-centered therapies².

EMDR psychotherapy is an information processing therapy and uses an eight phase approach to address the experiential contributors of a wide range of pathologies. It attends to the past experiences that have set the groundwork for pathology, the current situations that trigger dysfunctional emotions, beliefs and sensations, and the positive experience needed to enhance future adaptive behaviors and mental health."

"... a target is identified and processed using EMDR procedures. These involve the client identifying the most vivid visual image related to the memory (if available), a negative belief about self, related emotions and body sensations. The client also identifies a preferred positive belief. The validity of the positive belief is rated, as is the intensity of the negative emotions. After this, the client is instructed to focus on the image, negative thought, and body sensations while simultaneously moving his/her eyes back and forth following the therapist's fingers as they move across his/her field of vision for 20-30 seconds or more, depending upon the need of the client. Although eye movements are the most commonly used external stimulus, therapists often use auditory tones, tapping, or other types of tactile stimulation."

What you just read..."science, science, blah blah, EMDR, client, blah sciencey science". But this crap actually works. Well, I don't know if it works like it gets rid of my fear, but I know it does something to me during that session. 

My therapist uses what they called tactile stimulation along with auditory stimulation. I have to put on these headphones from 1998 and a little 1"-long bulb in each hand. The headphones have a tone that go back and forth, I can choose the tone to go a range of speeds, whatever is comfortable, and at the same time, at the same speed, the bulbs vibrate. 

During this time, she has me visualize a very specific event at which a plane flew over my head and subsequently had a panic attack. Normally, I can recall any event without it affecting me in the slightest. I could be telling you what I had for dinner last night it's that easy. But holy moly, thinking about the same plane occurrence with the stimuli, I actually have close to a full blown panic attack, as if a plane were in the freaking room. It's crazy. I kept hyperventilating and she had to tell me to take deep breaths. I was freaking out not only because of the panic attack, but I was kind of freaking out that I was no where near a plane and these stupid little vibrating balls were making me cry and having trouble breathing. I was so taken aback. I felt like a test subject. Or a mouse in a testing lab.

After my freaking out off and on for about 20 minutes, she still had the headphones and vibrating bulbs going, and she had me think of a very pleasant time when I was at a party, or when I was chilled out. I had to very specifically focus on the smell of the place, on the feel of the floor under my feet, what I was talking about, who I was talking to, etc. I couldn't believe the amount of relief I felt in just my face. I didn't realize how scrunched my face had been when I was thinking of the planes. I was so much calmer.

So what does this all do? It makes me have panic attacks? Cool. I'm doing this to STOP the panic attacks. I'm doing this so I DON'T drive off the road and kill myself of someone else. I'm doing this so I'm not horribly embarrassed when I fall down in the fetal position in a parking lot. So why am I going to therapy to be scared shitless? It's apparently worth it.

This type of therapy is supposed to rewire the brain, essentially. Instead of seeing a plane and firing along the same neuropathways to tell me to FREAK OUT, it rewires to fire along a different pathway to tell me to relax. The goal of EMDR therapy is to process these distressing memories, reducing their lingering effects and allowing clients to develop more adaptive coping mechanisms.

I've only had one session so far, and I go back for one in about two weeks. I'm pretty nervous just because I know for a fact that I will have a panic attack. After the session, you have what's called an EMDR hangover. I was exhausted just walking back to my hall. And then I sat in bed and watched about 4 episodes of Lost. 

I know some of my friends also have irrational fears and I thought this might help keep y'all encouraged. It's scary as hell. I won't sugarcoat it. Just admitting that you need "help" (I hate that term) is the first scary step, but I'm banking that it will be worth it. I'll keep you posted. 

In the meantime, keep away from any and all airports, airplanes, movies about planes, paper airplanes, and airplane drawings, kthnks. 

E

This is my determined face...

You Are Infinitely Stronger Than You Imagine

As a lot of you know, I have struggled with anxiety for many years. I mean, this stuff dates back to when I was 5, clinging to the front door frame of my mom's house, screaming and crying, and being pried away by my dad for his weekly visitation. My current battle with anxiety started with my separation anxiety from when I was a wee one. I have overcome it, fallen back into it, and overcome it so many times that it's now hard to trust myself when I think I'm finally overcoming it for good. I was really okay when I was in my mid-teens, but after a break up that turned my world upside down, I spiraled back into it, worse than I had ever been. It has taken years and a lot of therapy to get my mind back to a normal amount of regular anxiety (i.e. car payments, food, gas, broken dogs, etc. Normal stuff, ya know?)

I have always noticed that my anxiety gets worse before every big trip I make. Whether it be to Orlando (a two-hour drive) or to Mexico... where I will be flying to in two days for a fab vacation. Hence this post, and hence my current anxiety.

The past few days have been weird. I'm exhausted, slightly nauseous constantly, and I can't decide if I have a sore throat. This is the epitome of my anxiety... worrying that I will get sick before I go, so then I have to travel while sick, or get sick there and not be able to enjoy myself. I'm basically making myself sick with the fear that I will get sick. It's all psychological and the mind is powerful enough that it's affecting me physically.

This is one of my biggest fears. It stems from a horrible experience with my dad yelling at me for throwing up in a restaurant when I was 10. I know where it comes from, but it doesn't help knowing. I know it's anxiety and I'm not actually sick, but this knowledge doesn't help either. It's still there. I still have anxiety.

When I'm out of my comfort zone I have these constant mini panic attacks. They used to be bad enough that I would carry a plastic bag with me just in case I had to throw up. I never used even one. I don't get sick to my stomach easily. Ever. (Thank god.) *knocks on wood* But it eased my mind to know that just in case, I had it there. Instead of a safety blanket, it was my safety plastic bag...?

It all came to a head during a certain time. There was no one occurrence that made me realize I had to change some things. I just knew. I didn't want to look back on my 20's and remember my panic attacks. I wanted to remember the amazing times. It was time to change. So I took control.

I thought of this idea from seeing all the motivational memes and pictures on Pinterest. (Some amazingly inspiring shit is on there, guys. Go explore it.)

Well I saw all these quotes and sayings, and I started pinning the ones that really spoke to me so I could see them again eventually. But I knew this wouldn't be enough. I needed to see these words daily. Multiple times daily. So I wrote them down on little snippets of paper and started taping them all over my house in places I knew I would see them daily. I even put one in my car.

These were some of my favorites:
"You are infinitely stronger than you imagine."
"Keep moving forward." (I put it on my dashboard. It confused every one who got in my car. Definitely funny!)
"You might be Jesus to someone."
(Ok. No, I don't think myself a prophet. I cannot walk on water. I cannot feed 500 people with a loaf of my gluten-free bread. To me, it means I might be an idol or a role model for someone, and I might not know it.)

Seeing these every day and repeating them to myself when I saw them really reassured me and made me realize that I can be as strong as I want to. As cliche and tacky as it sounds, I hold the power to recovery.

I've done it before, and I will do it again. This will be a life-long struggle with anxiety, but like I said, we are so much stronger than we imagine.

No matter the level of anxiety, we are strong enough to overcome it. It's hard, but oh my god is it worth the fight.

Explaining PMS to a Man

I want to set something straight...

I've heard many, many times from many, many different men that PMS is basically made up. Either it's an excuse for women to act like a MegaBitch or blown out of proportion for women to have something to complain about or so we feel sorry for them. While there are extreme cases of women who over exaggerate and ruin it for the rest of us, PMS is a real, true, freaking painful time in a woman's life. We cry at a commercial of a baby (that isn't a sad commercial at ALL), we double over clutching our abdomen for 10 seconds at a time and then are fine for hours, we're pissed off about not fitting into the jeans we wanted to wear that day, and we can BLOW UP at you because you are unwrapping our chocolate bar the wrong way. It's crazy. And it may seem like we're being unreasonable. It's because we are. But we also know we're being unreasonable.

For the record though, just because a woman is pissed off or acting irrational does NOT mean she's on her period. Take it from a fairly reasonable woman... do not ever, EVER assume the chick is on her period. Maybe you're just being an asshole.

Let me break it down for you men...

Cramps.
-Imagine holding all your farts in for a week, and then laying on your stomach. The only way I can describe it is a twisting, throbbing, hot, dull pain that will not cease unless you medicate yourself or wait for it pass. If you stretch out, it hurts. If you push on the area, it hurts. If you walk too fast, it hurts. There's no winning.

Mood swings.
-We don't know why. We do get true mood swings. Some are worse than others, some women's are worse than her friends. It varies. But imagine eating a burger when you are famished and in fact biting into warm tuna. You would be pretty pissed, right? Imagine how you would feel if someone turned off the game right as someone was going to score? (Check this Jimmy Kimmel vid out if you're one of those...) Do you know what something like that feels like? Got it? Okay, now imagine you're driving on the highway and your wife says "you got something on your pants, babe" and immediately, without warning, you get the feeling that she just called you the most ugly, incompatible, incompetent, goofy-looking person on the planet and then turned off your TV. Yes. That's how it is, and that's how sudden and unpredictable mood swings come on for us.

Bloating.
 -You know that feeling you get after eating WAY too much at dinner? And with beer, it's just over-the-top full? That's kind of what bloating is like. Except we didn't eat a lot and we can't take accountability for not fitting into our cute skinny jeans that make our ass look amazing.


Cravings.
-During that terrible week before, we're short on Magnesium. Chocolate has magnesium. Hence, we crave chocolate. We could get it other ways, like a supplement or in our normal diet. But chocolate tastes so good and it has higher levels of magnesium. If you've never had a craving as bad as a woman's, imagine someone taking your favorite food (let's go with a delicious steak) and they cook it in front of you, wave it in front of your nose, and let you lick it once, but not eat it. Not one bite. Your mouth is watering, you can imagine what it would feel like to bite into it, chew it up, taste all the herbs, the juices, but you can't. You aren't allowed. THAT'S a craving. It sucks. The thing about men having a craving or being tempted is that it can be satisfied with a good meal of what you are craving. It doesn't work like that for women. It's not satisfied easily. Hence the stuffing-the-face-with-as-much-chocolate-as-the-eye-can-see.  

Now for some proof.

My co-worker showed me this a few days ago while we were talking about this kind of thing. It's scientifically proven that women are prone to feel these fluctuations more than men do... because apparently MEN HAVE THE SAME HORMONAL CHANGES! Who knew?!

Ok what the HELL does this mean?

It means the week before our period, our Estrogen, Testosterone (not shown), and Progesterone plunge. (Look at 22-28) All women vary on this kind of chart. One may plunge, and the next may simply dip down. Either way, they go down. And the change in the hormones tends to make us uberbitches for that week. We can't help it. Blame our ovaries.


I hope this helps explain to some men who think that PMS is psychological and made up by society. I'm not looking for sympathy for women, breakfast in bed, Pamprin on a silver platter, or anything like that... just understanding and patience that our PMS complaints are not usually made up (some bitches just ruin it for the rest of us). Once we get through that week of crying at a Zyrtec commercial, driving 15 miles to the nearest Walgreens for the "good" chocolate, and complaining that NOTHING FITS OUR FAT ASSES, we're our normal complicated selves again.

 
Now someone explain to ME why we as women are punished for not getting pregnant.


Seriously. 

A Changed Life is Coming...

I am visiting North Carolina this weekend to see my boyfriend who goes to school up here and to visit the school I will be transferring to in the fall semester.

I was on the plane last night, descending into Charlotte around 9:00pm. If you've ever flown with me, you probably know that I will give you my first born and my left shoe just to sit at the window. I love the window. But more than that, I hate being in the aisle. (Center of gravity when turning mid flight, seeing the ground, etc.) I love watching the ground moving slowly below me. At night, my favorite thing about a window seat is the twinkling lights. If I could come back in my next life as a pile of glitter, I probably would. I love anything twinkly or sparkly.

As I was watching the cars creep along the highway, some people rushing to get home because they are hungry, some meandering and just driving as much as it takes for little Johnny to fall asleep, some coming home from work, some going to work, and watching the silent manic police car pull someone over, the entire world just continuing below me as I, the silent plane in the sky, flew right over them. They don't know me. I don't know them. But we could see each other and know, someone is there. Someone is living their hectic life below me... and to me, they're just a cruising ball of light among hundreds. I could feel my world shifting in that moment.

I'm moving hundreds of miles away from a home that I've considered sacred and secure for 22 years to a 2x3ft room with concrete walls and a campus of which I know one person. At once, I was paralyzingly terrified and so excited that I could have peed myself.  So many things are changing within the next 4 months, and when those 4 months are up, I will just be getting started.

I had to center myself when I had this thought because it scared me so much. I thought "Jesus Christ in a Chicken Basket. Millions of people have done what I'm doing and have done far worse. Chill, Erin."

I thought back to a flight I took in December from Jacksonville, FL to Dallas, TX, to Seattle, WA. On my flight from Dallas to Seattle, I sat next to a really nice girl who told me her final destination was Alaska - home. She was a student in Texas and hadn't been home for 4 months. Thinking back to this made me realize how easy this should be... at least I'm not moving across an entire country.

Whether or not I'm ready for this, it's happening. I am going to force myself to go on this amazing adventure because I can only grow and learn from it. There's no going back now.

My life is changing whether I like it or not.

And I think I'll like it.