Auld Lang Syne (& Goodbye Dumpster Fire)

Like most people I'm ready for the dumpster fire of 2016 to come to an end. But before it does, I want to take a moment to acknowledge that it wasn't all bad - in fact for me 2016 was actually pretty amazeballs:  promotion, trip to Peru, financial security, new friends, awesome weddings, a few engagements, soon-to-be babies, mini-trips, dates, and one helluva a birthday. And on top of all that I accomplished all but two of my resolutions (I didn't manage a TM speech without cards or learn a new language). So as I look to the promise of 2017 I want to try and focus on the good and positive and not all the hate and negative as there is already enough of that in this world. 

And with that in mind, my resolutions are once again simple and focused on adding positive into my life and the world. I'm going to start with my two 2016 no-gos:  I will try to give my Toastmasters speech without note cards (still eeeek-worthy); and I will have another go at learning a new language (here I come Duolingo). I will become computer-literate and not just hope that I am backing up my computer every time I plug in my external hard drive (thanks in advance Snuff!). I will volunteer - it is way past time that I give back. And lastly, I will forgive bygones - as previously noted we need more positive vibes in the world and holding on to grudges serves no one.  So with that, I wish you all a happy and safe 2017 and I look forward to hearing your resolutions for the new year! 

Lupus & a Nasty Woman

Wednesday was a hard day for me. Like many people I know, I was disappointed not to see my candidate come out victorious, but I was also worried for my friends and myself and what this new presidency will mean for us. There are a number of things that concern me: LGBTQ-rights and safety, women's reproductive health, immigration standards, environmental protection, and healthcare. After I composed myself, I decided to take a first step and donated to a number of organizations that I know will continue to fight on behalf of these and many other issues. And today, I want to speak out about healthcare. This may seem like a strange issue, but the thing is, I have a chronic illness and insurance is a big fucking deal to me. I am very lucky that I have had coverage since my diagnoses (it was only through a mistake from the Peace Corps that I was covered), but I know that I could easily lose coverage and if that happens and there is no Obamacare - I know I wouldn't be able to afford treatment. So this is the story of this nasty woman's illness and why she is going to continue to fight.

I was in grade school the first time I learned about lupus. My brother had to do a research report for school and having spent the summer with my Aunt, who was living with it, he was happy to put this new knowledge to good use (and I suspect, to be able to gather most of his research through a quick phone call). As I was preoccupied with my own homework assignments, I didn't pay much attention; but my parents did make it a discussion point at family dinner. For those of you who don't know, the Mayo clinic defines Lupus as a chronic inflammatory disease that occurs when your body's immune system attacks your own tissue and organs. It wasn't until college that I became more familiar with lupus.  

I got a case of insomnia my sophomore year, which isn't uncommon in college. It got worse over the summer and by the time August rolled around, it was a real issue and I ended up staying home for the semester. My parents had me see our family doctor and after an unsuccessful round of sleeping pills she ran some blood work which came back with an unexpected result. Turns out that I had the markers for lupus, they indicated that I was most likely a carrier and not an active case. I went back to school, learned to live with the insomnia, and having more important things to worry about - dating, college drama, and semesters abroad - I didn't give a terrible amount of thought to the lupus until my case changed.

I went to Kazakhstan with the Peace Corps after graduation and a couple weeks in I got sick. After a couple days of intense testing the doctors were still scratching their heads and I wasn't getting better; so I came home. It would take less than 24 hours for them to determine that I had a blood clot and was bleeding internally, and another 5 months for them to figure out that my markers for Lupus were active and not just a carrier. 

It was a long 5 months, but I was lucky; according to the Lupus Research Institute, it often takes years for a person to be diagnosed with Lupus. If anyone is a fan of 'House' this may seem strange, since Dr. House was often quick to jump to it as the culprit for whatever ailed a patient; but in reality it is typically a much slower diagnoses. There are a couple of reasons for this: 1) There is no single laboratory test for lupus. To diagnose Lupus, doctors use the American College of Rheumatology's "Eleven Criteria of Lupus" - if you have 4 or more of the criteria, they conclude it is lupus. 2) Symptoms of lupus are similar to those of other diseases, which mean there are often misdiagnoses along the way. 3) No 2 cases are alike, meaning there is no "classic" symptoms to make it a shoe-in diagnoses. What made my case different was that I had a baseline test and although lupus isn't known as a hereditary disease, it was presenting as one in my family. As such, the doctors zeroed in on the diagnoses in short order. 

According to the Lupus Foundation of America, 1.5 million Americans have lupus; however they believe that the number may be higher because there have been no large-scale studies to show the actual number. It is believed that 5 million people throughout the world have a form of lupus. More than 16,000 new cases are reported annually across the country, and it strikes mostly women of childbearing age (15-44). Women of color are 2-3 times more likely to develop lupus than Caucasians. And yet doctors know very little about lupus: they don't know why it happens; how it develops; why more women than men get lupus; why it sometimes flares and sometimes goes into remission; why more women of color develop lupus; or what can be done to speed along clinical trials and testing. 

So what do they know? The Lupus Foundation of America gives a good overview, but I like to imagine my immune system as a bunch of 5 year old kids on a sugar high in a ball pit (my body) with foam bats just beating the hell out of those plastic balls (my healthy tissue) - there is no rhyme or reason for what they are doing, but they are going crazy nonetheless.  

We also know that lupus is a disease with flares and remissions; which means that there are good days, weeks, months, and if you are lucky, years; but those may not last. Unfortunately, as noted by the National Institute of Heath, we don't know why it does this so we can't always control them. Once again, I am lucky, I have mostly been in remission since 2007, and I know that I can mostly control my symptoms through a good diet, exercise, avoiding the sun, and minimizing stress. However, doing all of these things isn't always possible and a day touring a new city can quickly turn into a flare even if I wear my sun hat. The not knowing when or how bad your next flare will be is something every lupus patient has to learn to live with, but never gets used to.

At this time there is no cure for lupus, however over the last 30 years there have been significant strides in the treatment of lupus. According to the National Institute of Health, patients today have an increased life span and an improved quality of life thanks to the advancement of medications used to treat lupus. Most treatments include immune system suppressants, which range in strength from pills to chemotherapy - a vast improvement over the original treatments which focused on the entire immune system rather than the specific areas that were overreacting. And with increased genetic studies, doctors are hoping to identify those at risk earlier in the disease process and potentially identify the pathways that cause lupus and its symptoms. Although these studies are underway and recent discoveries prove promising, much of lupus is still a mystery and unknown not just to the doctors but to the world. In recent years a number of celebrities have made headlines with their diagnoses and brought a spotlight to this mysterious disease, these include: Selena Gomez, Toni Braxton, Seal, Nick Cannon, and Lady Gaga.  

I may not be a celebrity, but I hope that this brings another spotlight and puts a face to lupus. For me lupus will always be a part of my life - some days it is bigger than others, but it is always there. It is the reason I left the Peace Corps; it is the reason I will not have biological children; it is the reason I entered corporate America; it is the reason I can't pick up and move at a moments notice or will ever live abroad permanently; it is the reason I go to the doctor every couple weeks; and it is the reason I fear for Obamacare disappearing. But it is also the reason I got healthy and lost all the weight; it is the reason I got to live in NY when I was 22; it is the reason I took a different path and found a fulfilling career that I excel at; it is the reason I know what is important and what isn't: and it is the reason I will fight for people who weren't so lucky and don't have access to the care I do. I am a nasty woman and I am a fighter, as are my fellow lupies, and we will get through this, just like we get through every day - even when it hurts or we are just too tired to get out of bed - we will take the next step and live our lives and fight to make sure everyone has access to the care they need and deserve.

Pick up Your Pen & Paper

My Aunt M. is the best letter writer. For as long as I can remember Christmas and birthday cards always came with 2-3 fabulous chatty pages telling you all about the comings-and-goings in Maplewood, MN. Given that my immediately family was in Florida, this was a lovely way to be kept apprised of the extended family - probably more so for my parents - but nonetheless I always enjoyed the letters. However, as a self-involved kid, teenager, and 20-something it never accorded to me to respond; that is until about 2 years ago when I made a New Year's resolution to be a good pen pal. 

As I entered my 30s, I started to crave closer family connections and these letters seemed like a nice way to cement a bond with my Minnesota family. I realized that I really looked forward to getting those two letters a year and that if I responded I would get to hear about what was happening to the family all year long. Plus, who doesn't love getting real mail. So that January I wrote back to Aunt M.'s Christmas card. It was a short chatty note recapping my Christmas visit and New Years. Nothing life changing, but something. And sure enough a few weeks later, I got another letter from Aunt M. with updates on all my cousins, aunts, and uncles. There is something really nostalgic about getting an actual piece of mail filled with stories and gossip and updates on the ones you love. And as we got into a rhythm I started to realize that this wasn't just about the connection it was also about changing my perspective on my life. Each time I put pen to paper, I would recap the last few weeks or months and give her a snippet into my life -  in doing so I would find myself focusing on all the good things going on and it made me realize just how many there were. Within a few months, my letters were just as long and chatty as hers. I was officially a letter writer. 

Two years later and we are still going strong. It isn't always perfect, with the craziness of the last few months I just responded to her letter from late August, but in doing so I was able to put the last two months in perspective: Sure I worked way more than I would have liked, but in recapping those two months I was able to focus on the visits from 4 friends, a trip to Disney World, time with my mom, new challenges and victories at work, and so many other funny and fabulous moments that were easily lost in the everyday living. One hour sitting on my porch and all of the sudden the last two months take on a whole new look and beyond that, in sending this letter tomorrow, I know that in a few weeks I will get a similar peek into my family's life across the country. It is a lovely tradition that I am so glad I have begun and hopefully this will inspire you to pick up your pen and paper and send a note to someone you love - I promise they will appreciate the effort and you may be surprised about what it will end up meaning to you!

Adventure on the Inca Trail

I love to travel. I started out at 15 with a trip to Paris and London, continued with a backpacking trip through Europe at 19, a mini-semester abroad to Egypt at 20, a full semester in Belgium at 21, a couple weeks in Europe at 24, 2.5 weeks to Southeast Asia at 29, and in June 3 weeks in South America. I have been very fortunate to have been able to visit so many places, and to do so with relatively few mishaps up - at least until this last trip to Peru....

For someone who loves to travel, I am not exactly an 'adventurous' person. I am a planner - I like scheduled and structured adventure if you will. I am also not what you would call an 'outdoorsy' person. I enjoy nature, fresh air, and the occasional (emphasis added) hike in the woods; but my ideal time in nature is spent in a hammock with a glass of wine and a good book. As for camping, please refer to Troop Beverly Hills for my perfect camping scenario. This being said, I have gone outside my comfort zone for my love of travel, but usually not too far. Sure, I went to the Amazon, but we stayed in adorable bungalows and had catered meals each night - plus there were hammocks and wine. So you see, I have been able to make it work for me. 

And so when it came time to tackle the Inca Trail, I thought that I was once again making it work for me: instead of a 5-day hike on the trail, we were going to do a 2-day hike, one that would require us to carry a small bag with our overnight stuff for a day on the trail, but would end at a hotel with dinner and a bed, only to be whisked back up the mountain the next day for a hike around Machu Picchu. Perfect compromise. What I didn't count on was my first ever bout of traveler's sickness hitting the night before we headed up the mountain. 

The bus was picking us up in Cuzco at 4am, which would take us to the train that would then drop us off in between stations where we would head to the base camp to start our hike. I woke up at 11pm - 5 hours before pick-up - with some stomach distress, which I wrote off as nerves. Despite continued distress along the way to the trail, I wasn't willing to admit that there might be a problem until I was faced with the bathroom at base camp. 

As noted above, I have traveled quite a bit and seen some terrible bathrooms - including the holes in the ground at the boarder into Vietnam - those all paled in comparison into the what can only, in the looses sense of the word, be described as "bathrooms" at the start of the trail. Being dire enough to have to use them signaled to me that there might be an issue. However, I had just been dropped off in the middle of the train tracks and was about to embark on a 9-hour hike. I didn't have much of a choice but to start walking. And walk I did for 5.5 hours. 

At first the moving seemed to be good - the view was great, the weather brisk, I could do this. Our guide, Elvis, let us know that we would find the next set of toilets in about 4 hours and that if nature called in the meantime we just needed to tell him that we had to "water the daisies" and he would point us in the right direction. After hour 1, I inquired about the daisies and was directed to a patch of grass less than a foot off the trail and in clear view of the group behind us. It was then that I really looked around me and realized that the trail was only about 6 feet wide and on one side there was a straight drop and on the other there was mountain---any watering of the daisies was going to be in plain view and I would just need to keep walking. I told myself that I could do that - it was only 3 more hours. The problem was that one of the people in our group was not in prime hiking shape - she was having a difficult time and had to keep stopping. This meant that we kept stopping and that the 3 more hours until the bathroom wasn't looking promising. After 4 hours of hiking, we stopped at a beautiful waterfall and were informed that it would be another hour until we hit camp. Everyone settled in for another break and I admitted defeat and told Elvis about my little problem. He assured me it would be fine and produced a Cipro. I inquired about perhaps a Pepto or an Imodium, but was informed that this would cure all and to drink lots of water and when we stopped for lunch to just eat the bread and pasta and avoid any fat. Beggars can't be choosers, so I swallowed the pill and we continued on. A very long hour later we hit camp and I fled to another set of questionable bathrooms, praying that everything would be better soon and sure that I could make it for another 4-5 hours.

After my bland lunch and some more water we headed out for the second half of the hike. Within an hour I realized that all was not better. I tried to convince myself that I could make it another 4 hours, but it quickly becoming apparent that I would not. I had let C. know what was happening and when I started to fall to the back of our group he hung back to support and mock me. As I broke out into a cold sweat I informed C. that the situation had become dire and I didn't know what to do. He looked up and down the trail and told me that no one was coming and I should just go. After some fraught back and forth I had no choice but to take his advice. Being a boy he informed me that he wished he could take a picture to blackmail me with later. I never thought I would be in this situation and I certainly didn't think that if I was I would be laughing, but that is what happened. I also didn't expect him to then tell me that the group of seniors hiking behind us were coming up quickly - so quickly that all I could do was sit with my bare bottom on the stone steps and wait for them to walk by...It would be months before C. would finally tell me that although I thought I had covered my bottom my left cheek was actually hanging out. 

From there on out, the hike was a blur. I made it down and I made it back up the next day to explore Machu Picchu. Despite the Cipro I ended up being sick for a full week, and I can honestly say that I am closer to Chris than I ever thought we would be (or wanted to be). But I learned that when necessary, I can be 'outdoorsy' and 'adventurous.' I also learned some new travel lessons:  (1) Always travel with someone who won't take pictures of you when you are ill on the Inca Trail. (2) Always have Pepto or Imodium with you. (yes, I know most people swear by this - but it had honestly never been an issue...) (3) Remember to laugh, even at the worst moments; because if you are laughing then it will probably be even funnier after some time passes - I have been back for 4 months and this story gets funnier each time I tell it.

And don't worry, this is just the first installment on Peru - I am not going to make my only story about the trip be one focused on traveler's sickness.  In the meantime, below are a few pictures from the trip and while waiting for the next installment, please share a few of your best travel stories!  

My kind of camping in the Amazon

Evidence that I did indeed make it to Machu Picchu

3 Shots & a Trip to the ER

On April 13th I made my first trip to the ER in an ambulance. It started out like any other Wednesday:  did a morning workout, went into work, went to lunch....and then my day took a turn - I went to the allergist's office. 

I didn't have allergies growing up; but my second year in Hoboken I discovered that the cold I had felt coming on for weeks was actually seasonal allergies. After a misguided (and sleepy) dose of Claritin in the middle of the day I started regularly taking the pills at night and found relief. 

Fast forward 8 years and I decided it might be time to visit the allergist and discover exactly what seasonal allergies I have. I called in January to get my appointment and was able to get one for April. I was also told that I should be off my meds for 5-8 days before coming in...this was super exciting news since my appointment was in the height of allergy season. 

Which brings us to the 13th of April and a very miserable Kara stuck in the waiting room for an hour before getting called back to do the prick test. After an itchy wait the results are in and I have...NO allergies. The doctor explains that sometimes with late onset allergies you have to get a blood test; she then gives me some Zyrtec to help with my current symptoms. As we are talking about allergies and follow-up tests, I feel like my tongue is a bit swollen - which I mention to her and tell her is probably just psychosomatic.

Turns out "psychosomatic" is immediately dismissed in a doctor's office and instead you get shoved into a room with a lot of nurses and have people shove tongue depressors in your mouth to look at your tongue. Turns out, it wasn't psychosomatic and my tongue was swollen, which resulted in a burly nurse pantsing me and the doctor giving me a shot with the EpiPen while I was still apologizing for not wearing cute underwear. This all happened in under 3 minutes from the first mention of a possibly swollen tongue. After we had calmed down from this whirlwind, the doctor explained that I was having an allergic reaction...just not sure what to...she also let me know that I would have to hang out in this room for 2 hours until the EpiPen wore off. They also told me that the shot was a bit like speed and that i shouldn't fight the reaction. As they reclined me back in the chair so that my feet would rest over my head I confessed that I had never had speed so I wasn't sure what they meant by fighting the reaction - apparently it makes your heart race and your arms and legs shake. I also asked if they could pull my pants up, but was informed they would have to stay down in case they had to give me another shot. 3 minutes later, the doctor came in to check on me and informed me that my tongue was still swollen and they stuck me again. I was once again reminded that this was like speed and not to fight the reaction...5 minutes later she informed me that my throat had some swelling and I received a third shot.  By then I felt like an expert and things calmed down. The doctor left the burly nurse to babysit me and every couple minutes she would ask how I was doing. She gave me a blanket and let me tip up the chair so that my head was finally over my feet. We were having a nice chat about my time in the Peace Corps. I was also getting sleepy from all the adrenaline and she kept up with her pestering questions about how I was feeling. I casually mentioned that it was "heavy" to breathe - what I meant that I was sleepy as the adrenaline was coming out of my system and so I was slow to take deep breaths... 

This turned out to be the wrong thing to say. As apparently they take the whole "breathing" thing really seriously, and I was informed that they were going to have to call an ambulance and I was going to have to go to the ER for observation. I asked if i could walk or take an Uber there (it's only 3 blocks!) and was informed that no, I could not. I then asked if I could pull my pants up - yes, yes I could. As I zipped up my pants, the first of the ambulances arrived and two guys came rushing in. After a quick exam they declared that I wasn't an emergency transport and that a second ambulance was on its way to take me in. They waited for it to arrive - presumably in case I turned into an emergency - and the nurses readied my paperwork. The second ambulance arrived and wheeling in the gurney was a beautiful, beautiful man, who wore his uniform extremely well. In a moment that can only be accredited to Grandma Ruthie, I blurt out as he came in "Well, at least they sent the hot one!"  He doesn't miss a beat, "We do what we can ma'am!" The ma'am puts me in my place; as does the reaction of the 2 ambulance workers who had arrived first - one snorted and the other piped up "Hey, I'm just like his shorter, less buff twin; only with better hair!" I let them load me onto the stretcher with the farewell:"Well, this certainly escalated quickly."

I spent the afternoon under observation and with an IV full of liquids. L.C. came and broke me out in the late afternoon and gave me a ride home - she also insisted on me filling my prescription for my very own EpiPen (this is before they skyrocketed in price), but also let me buy discounted Easter candy - I'm looking at you Cadbury mini eggs! I would also like to point out that said EpiPen was for an allergy that was not identified - the doc would later tell me that her best guess was that I had a reaction to the control in the test- i.e. the histamine...

So ladies and gentleman, this is the story of the Wednesday I had 3 shots and a trip to the ER. Moral of the story, don't go to the allergist out of curiosity. Second moral, if you are going to call the ambulance worker hot, don't do it in front of the other ambulance workers who have been in the room with you - they get offended.  Final moral (according to D.) do not dismiss your symptoms to doctors; because sometimes when your tongue feels like it is swollen, it is, and you need 3 shots of an EpiPen...but whatever, I got a funny blog post out of it.

Mama, Mom, Mommy!

My mom's 60th birthday was last month. She was here visiting me for a week so that we could do our annual trek to Nora Robert's Bed & Breakfast in Boonsboro, MD - a dual birthday celebration for us and a week of spoiling for me. She drove me to and from work all week, fixed me dinner, cleaned my apartment, and did laundry - what a way to spend her birthday week, right? But she was insistent that she just wanted to make my life a little easier for a week. In turn, I took her to the speakeasy and fancy dinner in Old Town and booked the Penthouse at the B&B. It was a lovely time, but not without some minor hiccups. 

I adore my mom. She is a pillar of strength and support in my life who has taught me to believe in myself and to persevere no matter what. As some of you know, our family has had more than its share of difficulties over the past 15 years. They chipped away at our unit little by little but in the process they forged a tight bond between me and my parents. During all of this my parents aged beyond their years and emotionally they were drained over and above their reservoir; and yet, through it all, they continued to push and support me to move beyond the devastation, even as they seemed to get pulled deeper in. In the end, my moving beyond it seemed to pull them out. The three of us are standing on the rubble these days, the foundation is still shaky but we are coming out on the other side of a long battle of depression, anxiety, and despair. 

Which brings me to why I am writing this post. My mother is one of a kind. She may not be outlandish like Ruthie, but she certainly inherited Ruthie's backbone of steel and determination to rise above life's challenges. She has been such an amazing example of strength and fortitude, I feel so fortunate to have her as a mom. While she spent the week spoiling me rotten, she was also battling a round of depression - a little present from dealing with the last 15 years. I wish I could say that I handled it like a champ and supported her the way she has supported me. But I didn't. You see, while mom wanted to spoil me, I wanted to spoil her and so I was frustrated when she wasn't excited about dinner plans and such. I didn't see what she was struggling with and was frustrated. The truth is, I didn't want to see. I want everything that has happened to just be done and forgotten, but it isn't and I don't always handle that super well. In the end the strength of our unit came through and we were able to talk about it - as we do with everything else - and she told me what was going on and we managed to have a mostly lovely week.  

Mom's struggle is real and difficult. She is no longer the flawless and fearless woman of my youth, nor is she the pillar (and sometimes enemy) of my teen years - she is now the friend of my adulthood. She is a woman who has overcome so much, she has wounds and scars, flaws and strengths, she suffers and succeeds, she cries a lot and laughs too loud, she is a terrible speller who is always trying to learn new things, she is a terrific and creative cook, she knows just where everything belongs and will put it there (even if you would rather she not rearrange your bedroom), she loves to dance and watch stupid movies, and she is a wonderful caring person who just wants what is best for her family. She is not perfect by any means, but she tries so hard to make life perfect for her family. She is one great mom and I am so happy that she is mine.

12-Months

This time last year, my life had just been decimated. It started in the spring with the break-up, followed with an unclear living situation, problems at work, Byron needing surgery, and culminated with me paying $40k in private student loan payments (goodbye savings). By the end of August I felt hollowed out. I was still standing, but it felt more like I was teetering on the rubble of what had been my life. 

It was a blurry time where I did what I needed to do to get through - I cut unnecessary expenses (including therapy and my amazing hairdresser), stuck with the roomie and long commute, worked my ass off on the job, and figured out how to pay for Byron's surgery. Each day I focused on putting one foot in front of the other and handling whatever came my way. After awhile, I moved onto each week, and then each month, until the ground started to feel steady again. 

It was a new foundation, but one that was starting to feel steady underneath my feet. I began to live my life again instead of just existing - I started this blog, I dated, I demanded more from work, and I realized how much stronger I had become. Not only did I get my confidence back, but I found my inner-strength again. It had been a long time since I had to re-build myself, but I discovered that I still could and was discovering that I was much better at it now then when I was 22.

As it turned out I wasn't just surviving, I was thriving. Heading into spring, Byron was doing well, my bank account was back to a reasonable balance, I had expanded my responsibilities at work, and I was getting ready for an amazing 3-week vacation for Peru; and that was when life threw me another curve ball. The Monday before I left for Peru I was called into my boss's office and offered a management position. It was a complete surprise and not exactly what I had been hoping for, but they pushed hard for me to take it - I was fast tracked through the process and didn't have to interview - and I had to decide before I left on Friday. After a restless night weighing the pros and cons, I accepted and got to work closing out 2.5 years of work in 4 days while also prepping for a new role. It was a crazy, long week, but followed by one of the best vacations I have ever had.

When I got back from Peru, I looked around and realized what a 180 my life had taken in the last 12-months. I've always maintained that given time everything will work out - the problem is that I have also always been impatient and haven't exactly listened to my own advice. As I looked around at all of the good things happening - new job, raise, position on the Board of my networking group, fun dates, new friends - I couldn't help but realize that it was time to take my own advice and stop worrying about what was next and just focus on what was happening now. So as I start my 32nd year on this earth, this is my resolve:  I will spend this year remembering that time will pass and me worrying about it will not make a difference, as such I am going to appreciate the now and not try and rush to the next step. Hopefully this is a good reminder to all of you to stop and smell those roses!

Lessons for Wedding Season

Wedding season is upon us. This spring/summer I have (had) three on the calendar, two were in May and one coming up in July. I had to miss the first one because of Grandma's funeral, which was a big disappointment, but was able to enjoy the second in June and am getting stoked for the July ceremony. The thing is, I love weddings - getting dressed up, food, dancing, celebrating your friends, toasts, seeing old friends and acquaintances, meeting new people, and looking to the future. So as I get ready for my last round of the season, I thought I would share a few of my lessons for surviving the wedding season!

In June I made my first trek up to NYC for M&M's wedding. After a few days hanging with L. - drinking too much wine and watching an overdose of Disney Channel Original Movies - we met up with M. and headed up to Hudson Valley for the ceremony. It was a perfect single girl trio to enjoy the wedding as we are all looking for the same thing from the wedding: booze, dancing, and celebrating. We had a blast getting up there and getting ready. When we got downstairs, we did pictures, and I turned around to discover someone in the same dress as me. Luckily, I had a back-up dress and within 5 minutes I made the full change - including shoes and accessories. Lesson #1:  Always bring a back-up dress.

After the ceremony, we zeroed in on the drinks and apps at the cocktail reception - where we got to enjoy dole whip cocktails, Disney music, and a surprise appearance by a dinosaur (yep, a dino was at the cocktail reception). Dinner was a blur of dancing, food, and wine spritzers (yes, you read that right, we got spritzers). The food was fantastic and we got second helpings and enjoyed the homemade desserts from the bride's dad.  Lesson #2:  Water down your drinks - seriously - seltzer and white wine is refreshing, keeps the hangover to a minimum, and keeps you from making an ass of yourself on the dance floor.

We piled into the van back to the hotel and changed for the after party. At the party, we drank more spritzers, gossiped, and played games. As the night wore on the group started splintering off into smaller sets, L. made friends with the front desk attendant and kept us in seltzer for the spritzer, I ended up in a deep conversation with the best man, M. sneaked off to bed, and the next thing I knew it was the wee hours of the morning. Lesson # 3: Be prepared for no sleep and lots of coffee the next morning.

It was a truly fabulous wedding and I can't wait to do it again for D&J's big dya in a few weeks - I've got my two dresses, a taste for spritzers, and 5 Hour Energy in my medicine cabinet. Hopefully, you are ready for your wedding season as well!

4 Dudes and a Funeral

Sorry for disappearing, but life has been in a bit of whirlwind since the last post...which has included - surprise: four dudes and a funeral, or more specifically, how Grandma's funeral whittled down four dudes.

Last month, on Mother's Day, Grandma Ruthie passed away. Mr. Navy, one of the four CMB guys I was dating, and I had just ordered pizza and were picking a movie on Netflix when I got the call from my dad letting me know that Grandma wasn't going to make it through the night. This was our third date and Mr. Navy stayed for pizza and most of the movie, but I knew by the time he headed out the door that this was the last date. Lesson learned, not everyone can handle the heavy stuff, and better to find out sooner rather than later. One down.

On Monday, B., two of the four, reached out about a second date. I let him know that my Grandma had passed and that I was not up for going out that week. To be fair, the first date was only okay - he was shorter than his profile, which you know I hate, there was limited chemistry, plus he wasn't that interesting. That being said, he was actually a sweetheart about it and let me know he was there when I was up for going out again. The week was crazy and full of emotional turmoil - as I went through it I realized that as sweet as he was it wasn't reason enough to overlook the negatives of the first date. Two down.

Three of four, P., was a fun guy and we had a great chat going on for a few weeks. I was super excited because he had a similar devotion to his French Press and not only knew The Darkness - but also knew a good number of their songs. He gave me some great new band recommendations as well as some suggestions for new restaurants to check out. However, P. and I also shared a trend of terrible timing, this meant that when a death in the family was thrown in I was three down.

Onto four of four, the Latvian. I like to save the best for last and the Latvian definitely gets that title. Unlike the first three, the Latvian was persistent and stuck through the week after Grandma passed and the week of the funeral. He texted me regularly without being intrusive - they were breezy and funny texts - which were the right note as I dealt with all the drama that can come with big family gatherings. We had been having trouble syncing up our timing so it was a another few weeks before we managed to make our date. We got together this week for what would be a very boring and highly insulting date. We met at my favorite date spot in Old Town for a late drink, I had planned to get an appetizer because I am all about eating on a date.  I ordered my glass of wine thinking that I would hold on the app until he got there; however, within a few minutes of his arrival I scratched the app plan as I knew this wouldn't be good. I sipped my wine while he ordered his seltzer and cranberry - apparently he doesn't drink. The conversation was dull, he spent a significant amount of time talking about hiking and making lame jokes about being a serial killer. There was some lost in translation aspects to the conversation - in particular, sarcasm on both sides. It was difficult, which wouldn't have been the worst, until he got insulting. After I mentioned my favorite little man, Byron my amazing cat, he decided to tell me about his theory on why so many people have pets these days. According to the Latvian, so many 20/30-somethings have pets because they are chronically single and so they get them to fulfill the desire for companionship that their failed relationships have left open. I informed him that this was highly insulting and decided it was time for me to shut this date down. This is the point that I discovered I am not as good at ending a date as I thought...it took another hour to get home, during this time I had to endure a  kiss as long and we as the Mississippi and an awkward car ride. He texted me the next day to ask me out again, I declined. Four down.

I think Grandma would have very much enjoyed my month of dating and clearing out the coffers before I head to Peru. And hopefully, when I get back and start dating again, she will inspire me to find a way to shut down a date when it goes south --- unless someone has some tips for me! 

Grandma Ruthie

Today I want to dedicate my Mother's Day blog post to my Grandma Ruthie. She is an amazing woman with a wonderful spirit. Yesterday, she went into the hospital and unfortunately I can't join the rest of the family as they head to her bedside. 

Growing up my brother and I were lucky enough to spend a lot of time with our grandparents - we'd spend our summers in Wisconsin visiting them and they in turn would come and stay with us for months at a time. My dad's parents were total Norman Rockwell grandparents: they were wrinkly little people; grandma cooked amazing wholesome meals and made pies from the berries we picked; and grandpa would putz around all day and helped us build a tree fort. On the other hand, Grandma Ruthie is nothing like a typical grandma. She wears red lipstick and high octane outfits, would take us to McDonald's for breakfast, have her toddy every evening, go to the casino, and would get asked to dance by men when we were at the bar (it was a bar-restaurant, so kids could totally be there).

The first time she came to stay with us, I remember being terrified of her. I was a shy kid and Grandma Ruthie came in like a whirlwind of lipstick, perfume, and vitamins. Over the years I learned a lot from Grandma's annual visits: she made the best fried chicken and lemon meringue pie, the woman bargain hunts like it's no one's business, she doesn't care what people think, doesn't believe in whining, and always looks on the bright side. At the time I may not have appreciated all I could learn from Grandma, but as I got older all her little sayings have become a part of my internal dialogue and I realize what an astounding woman she is.

Grandma survived a lot of hardships in her life, but she doesn't dwell on them or use them as an excuse. She is a resilient woman who picked herself (and her family) up when life didn't go as planned and she kept a smile on her face as she did it. She doesn't swear and doesn't believe in saying negative things about other people. I grew up hearing her mantra from both her and my mom: "Put a smile on your face and a happy thought in your heart." This has gotten me through more than a few of life's challenges and I hope that you can be inspired by it as well*. 

*And if you need further proof of how amazeballs Grandma Ruthie is:  When she first went into the home for Alzheimer's she broke out and took the other patients with her, because she didn't want to leave them behind. After she got moved into the locked-down unit (post-breakout) she started a rebellion and then rejoined it after she forgot she started it. Finally, she thought the lost and found in the home was a garage sale and picked up presents for her family. I am proud that my family often refers to me as a "mini-Ruthie" me. She is truly one of a kind and I love her dearly.

One Time...

In the episode "Indianapolis" of 'Parks and Rec' Leslie recalls some of her craziest break-ups in an effort to comfort Anne as she comes to terms with her own break-up. This post is the dating version of that. Lately I have found myself reminiscing about some of the crazy dates I have been on - it has helped me keep perspective as I go out on this new series of first dates: "Remember that one time the guy said he was 5'11 and he was 5'1? I wonder if it was a typo...Here is hoping this guy is actually as tall as he says he is..." As I often say, each bad date makes a great story, but they also make a good yard stick for things I won't put up with again. Not only do I already have that story, but I am also older, wiser, and have a much lower bullshit threshold than I did at 25. Now if someone shows up a full 10" shorter than his profile says - I have no problem walking out the door, I don't have time for people who want to start out with a lie...plus seriously, did you really think I wouldn't notice that?! So without further ado - here are three of my favorite dating mishaps

One time I went on a date with a speech writer for Geithner and I ended up yelling  'gazangas' in the middle of a beer garden. This was towards the end of my 26 dates in 3-months and usually gets listed as the worst date I have ever been on. In our conversations on the eharm, he was smart, witty, well-traveled, seemed close with his family, and was attractive. We hadn't been chatting for very long, but I was excited to meet him in person. We were supposed to meet at 6:30 at the beer garden on U Street. I got there at 6:30 and texted him when I couldn't find him in the crowd. He wrote back to let me know he was running a few minutes late. 15 minutes later he shows up reeking of tequila and gleefully tells me that he had been doing shots with friends down the street. As we are getting our IDs checked, he asks me if I noticed he was shorter than his stated 5'8 - as he was just a hair shorter than my 5'6 - I told him yes and asked why he bothered to lie about something that is so obvious. (At this point, I'd been on so many dates with guys who lied about it - I was starting to get annoyed.) His response was (and still is) priceless: "I figure it is like telling a girl that you have an amazing apartment to get her to go home with you - once you get her there and she sees that you live in a hovel - you've already got her there so the work is done..." Yes, I know that this was the perfect opportunity to walk - but alas I stubbornly decided to ride this one out for the story. So we get our beers and he begins to regale me with shop talk, how important his job is, all the people he has met, how smart he is...I start checking the time and metro schedule. And somehow in my moment of distraction, the conversation takes an unexpected turn. He decides to tell me about his ideal woman, Salma Hayek. This is at first amusing to me - since he is out on a date with a green eyed, strawberry blonde with freckles - not really 'his type.' But then he decides to focus in on her attributes and gives me a good five minutes on her - and I quote - "titties" - yes, he really did call them that. I sit in stunned silence for the first couple minutes, and then I just blurt out - "Did you really call Salma Hayek's boobs 'titties'? Because, first off, who talks about 'titties' on a first date? And second off, seriously, that woman's breasts deserve better than 'titties' at least get it right and call them 'gazangas' or something with a little more umph (hand gestures for umph). But seriously, what is wrong with you?!" He didn't have much to stay after my outburst, which was much louder than I meant it to be, as people were now looking at us. I wish I could say I had stormed off after this outburst, but unfortunately I was a bit deflated and baffled at why I had already stayed so long, so I waited while he paid. I even let him walk me to the metro, where I had to dodge a clumsy attempt at a kiss and missed my train. #Ugh #Live&Learn #TheyAreCalledBreasts

So another time, I went out with a rich twin I met at a yacht party and turned down a weekend trip to Paris. When I lived in NY, W. would sometimes take me as her date to fancy parties. This particular evening came about when she was part of some exclusive club that would host impromptu parties around NYC that required passwords and a certain balance in your bank account to join. It was a ton of fun and one of those evenings that as time passes seems kind of surreal. The champagne cruise around the city was beautiful, and as I was stupid-poor at the time it, was great to enjoy the luxury. Towards the end of the night, I bumped into the twin as I was taking pictures of our group and he gave me his card. Turns out he was a lawyer (his twin was a doctor), they were named after two of our Founding Fathers, had gone to exclusive boarding schools in Connecticut, were lightly involved in politics, and wealthy. We chatted a bit and he took me out to a lovely seafood restaurant in the city, where we sat in the jazz room, then he drove us to the cafe from 'You've Got Mail' and had a decadent chocolate dessert - this was all carefully planned as I had mentioned my love of jazz, RomComs, and seafood. He spent the evening telling me about his twin, his amazing job, his dabblings in politics, and how he could afford to keep his spiffy car in the city (it was a spiffy car). At the time, it was not a bad date, I was 23 and it was flattering to have a night designed around you - looking back it was overdone and he was obnoxious. The fun started after the date was done. As flattered as I was, I was sooo not attracted to him and so when he called and asked if I wanted to go out again I was prepared to turn him down. But before he waited for my reply to the invite, he asked if I had a passport. My curiosity was pricked, after I replied that I did, he told me that a car would be picking me up in a few hours and I should pack for a long weekend and to bring my passport (it was a Friday and we had gone out on Tuesday). Now, those of you who know me know: that I am as far from spontaneous as you can get, that I do not appreciate people telling me what I will be doing, and that I don't like feeling rushed when I am dating - so what happens next shouldn't surprise them. I told him that while I appreciated the thought, I couldn't take off for a weekend and certainly couldn't take off work unexpectedly on Monday. This didn't go over well with him and the texts started - at first they were cajoling, trying to get me to change my mind by telling me he just wanted to take me to Paris for the weekend (yes, I will admit being slightly tempted after learning this), and then they were whiny, and finally they were just snotty. So I ignored them. When he got back I didn't hear from him and thought it was over...oh was I wrong. He called about a week later, I was at the store picking up ingredients for the key lime pie I was making for Thanksgiving at W.'s house. Well, he insisted that it was his favorite and he should come over to be my tester. I declined and said that I didn't think it was going to work out. I was so proud of myself for being honest about it and not making excuses. He spent the next 15 minutes telling me why I was making the biggest mistake of my life. He explained to me that he had told his brother (the doctor) about me (and about my Lupus) and his brother had warned him that I was "damaged goods," but he was willing to look past that and as such, I should be "grateful." Yep. He said that. I listened to him rant and when he finished up - I told him that "while I appreciated that he was willing to look past my shortcomings, I wasn't willing to look past his being an asshole and that he should refrain from contacting me." About a month later, I got a remorseful text message, that I assume his therapist made him write - I never responded. #RichDoesntMeanClassy #BestWeekendTripINeverTook #KeyLimePie

And finally, one time I went out with a window-dresser for Urban Outfitters and ended up at Fuddruckers. This one was date 3 in the saga of 26 first dates. I was super excited about this date, because the first two were so blah and this guy seemed really fun. He was super cute, had an entertaining profile, and seemed energetic - which at the time was something I found interesting, rather than exhausting. We met at my favorite dive bar in DC at 7:30, which was a later meet time than I liked, but I was just starting to date and trying to be open-minded. He came in 30-minutes late, as he had overslept, but at least he looked like his pictures. We were supposed to have a drink and then go play mini golf at the H Street Country Club, I was excited about the mini golf. However, his drink turned into multiple drinks and he began to delight me with stories about his nights out on the town and how awful his ex was. Apparently, the window-dresser world has crazy hours and so he had found himself living as a night owl - hence the oversleeping for a 7:30 date. But I wasn't to worry, as he was trying to change his ways because it had caused problems with his ex, who was resentful of him hanging out at the bars until the wee hours of the morning. Considering, he told me about wanting to turn his life around in the same sentence that he told me he had gotten home at 4am the night before - I wasn't holding my breath for his transformation. After I finished my beer, and he his fifth Jameson, I accepted that mini golf wasn't going to happen. I also realized that we should get out of the bar before he had more - not only was he getting loud in his bashing of his ex - but he was insistent about driving himself home. I figured I could be a good Samaritan and get some food in him to sop up the booze. He was a big guy, 6'3 about 180 lbs, and when he leaned on me as we were walking down the street I started wobbling in my heels - I decided we weren't going far for food and shoved him into a booth in the Fuddruckers that was 2 store fronts down from the bar and across the street from Urban Outfitters (which he apparently designed the window for). I bought us burgers and fries, and listened to his stories about the nightlife in DC, his crazy/amazing ex, and the life of window-dressing. When the tears started during reason #143 that his ex leaving him was the best/worst thing that ever happened to him I decided that I was done for the evening. I took him to the metro and put him on a train towards his house, avoided the sloppy attempt at a goodnight kiss, and realized that dating in DC might not be what I expected. #IHaven'tBeenBackToFuddruckersSince #CryingOnADateIsANo #DCDating

Hopefully these provided you with a chuckle and some comfort as you go on your own dating adventures. If you have a story that can top these, please feel free to share. And most importantly, keep your fingers crossed that this round of dating, none of them enter into this category of crazy.

Are We on a Date?

Last fall, a friend from NY visited and introduced me to his friend, A., who had just moved to DC. We exchanged numbers and said we should hang out. That was that.  A few months rolled by and in January, A. texted me and asked if I wanted to meet up for a drink. I was excited to meet up with someone new - especially a cute, eligible guy - but had no clue if this was a friendly drink with someone new in town or a date. My last date was the Match one from November and so date or not, at least I knew what this guy would look like.

So, we grabbed drinks at a local bar and ended up talking for 3 hours. It was great, except for the part where I told him that he was undateable. Apparently, my dating skills were a bit rustier than I realized... and I still had no idea if it was a date or not. We made plans the next day to meet up the following week, which went slightly better as I did not say anything disparaging about him. I still had no clue what this was, but I was having fun. It was great getting to know someone new and hearing a different perspective on life. I forgot how much fun this part of dating was - the new input on the same subjects, the fresh voice in your life, and your same old stories having a new novelty to someone. I realized that I didn't care what it was - I was just going to enjoy it. For those of you who know me - you know I'm terrible at living in the moment - but that is what I was doing and it was actually fabulous. 

On our fourth outing, I decided that they weren't dates and managed to sneakily confirm with him - K.:"These non-dates have been a great way to get me back into dating mode..." A.: "Really? Good for you, I'm thinking of taking a break for a bit."- okay, maybe not subtle, but it worked and I think he will provide a good male perspective when I am dating. Also, I had a blast drinking wine, eating pizza, and wandering around the Basilica of the National Shrine of the Immaculate Conception. I realized that I was feeling less rusty and I really am ready to start going on unambiguous dates.  

It may not have been how I thought I would start dating again - I'm pretty sure we all imagined that it would be a bit more clear cut - but it got me started. And started I am, I have a real (no question about it) date this week AND have been on Coffee Meets Bagel for almost a week now....so wish me luck and I will be sharing the good, bad, and horrifying soon enough!

Time to Get Back on the Horse

In late August I signed up for Match and did a 3-month stint. During this time I discovered that Match was not a match for me - let's just say that the quality of men was not quite what I was hoping for and I only made it out on one date. The date wasn't terrible - we ended up at Ping Pong for a couple drinks and a light dinner, we had an okay conversation (mostly DC chit-chat), and no real connection - there wasn't a second date. 

I'm happy I gave it a try and got out there for a bit, but I was not ready to date and was stupid-happy when the subscription ended in late November. I spent the winter enjoying the holidays, spending time with friends, making my way through Toastmasters, focusing on work, and figuring out whether or not I wanted to move. It was a great winter and I can honestly say that I didn't miss dating.

However, as spring begins I've found myself noticing that attractive man sitting next to me on the metro and enjoying dinner and conversation with the cute friend of a friend I was introduced to; and I've realized that it is time to get back out there. I'm ready to fulfill another of my New Year's resolutions and am signing back up for the eharmony. 

I'm really excited about it! First of all, I know that eharm is a good match for me and has the quality of men that I am looking for - I have found that the price to join typically means that they are more invested in the process than on other sites. Secondly, I am sure that there will be some good dating stories that I will get to share with you all; after all, half the fun of dating is getting great stories to share with your friends!

As I get back on the dating horse - send some good vibes and wish me luck - I am sure this process is going to have some ups and downs, but hopefully it will be fun. Also, a big thanks to my family and friends for their support over the last few months- I couldn't have made it through without you all! So, here we go!!

Can vs. Should

I've never been great at making decisions, I always second guess myself - paranoid that I am making the wrong choice and won't be able to take it back. As I have gotten older I have worked to get better at it, reminding myself that the world won't end if I make the "wrong" choice - and in the case of picking an entree at a restaurant, I can always come back and get my second choice another time (thanks, D.)!

In my last post I mentioned that I have a bunch of big decisions right now and that I'm trying to be proactive in my decision making - talking out the choices with as many people as I can. By talking them out I am able to pick the problem apart and each time I do it I see different angles. I was doing just that a few weeks ago, trying to solve the "to move or not to move" question with my parents and a big light bulb went off: there is a big difference between 'can' and 'should.'

I have been talking about getting my own place since I moved to DC, but it has yet to happen. Going into this lease renewal I was sure that this was going to be the year: I have the budget for it, I found a good neighborhood, the timing was right - work would be busy but not insane. I could do it! But as I talked it out, I started to question if I should. You see, I have the budget, but I also have a three week trip to Peru in June and wouldn't it be nice to have that move budget to do some extra excursions on this trip?! As for where I was looking to move, it's a great neighborhood but I do really love my apartment and Old Town. As to the timing, my responsibilities at work have been expanding and may be changing in the next few months. Further, I have three weddings this spring/summer in addition to Peru, so it will be awesome to use my vacation days for these instead of moving. And as a last pebble on the scale - sharing rent for another year would mean saving a good chunk of money for another year, putting me a lot closer to a down payment on a house.  

As I watched the scales teeter back-and-forth, I realized that yes - I can move into my own place; but I was a lot less sure that I should. And then I spent a very anxious month waiting on K. to decide on her end of the question. I knew that no matter what she chose it would be okay, because I could do it, but I hoped that I wouldn't have to. On Monday, while watching the Bachelor (because that is what we do) we hashed it out and decided that we were going to re-up our lease. It felt great to have one of these decisions off my plate and to be able to move forward with some more things that I had been putting on hold (i.e. start dating, start my Roth IRA, plan a trip to NYC, etc.).

So, next time you have a big decision hopefully the "can vs. should" scale will help you out like it did for me on this one! 

Speak up!!

My mother loves to tell people that when we moved into our house in Florida she had to tell the neighbors that they weren't beating me...I just had a set of lungs on me that rivaled a banshee and was prone to temper tantrums. You can imagine their surprise when I started school and they were told that I was incredibly quiet and needed to speak up more. I spent more years than I'd like to admit finding a balance between those temper tantrums and speaking up, but I like to think that I have found it.

The past few weeks have been a bit rough - lots of decisions to be made and many of them out of my hands (which I HATE). I'd been using my de-stress tips to keep sane, but I realized that it also might be time to speak up about some of them. These conversations aren't easy ones, but at least I would know that I was making an effort to change the situation. With that in mind, I emailed a variety of contacts and set up a slew of meetings. I reached out to people who had been where I was and asked them how they decided what to do and what they wish they had known. I got some great advice and began to feel better about the decisions I needed to make and felt more comfortable about the ones that were out of my control.

Since I was on a roll, I decided to also address some situations at work. I have been having trouble with a co-worker recently and ignoring the situation wasn't solving it - so I asked her to coffee. 25 minutes and two Starbucks later and we were back on even keel. From there I decided to go for gold and made a meeting with my boss. Reviews are in the Spring, but I figured it couldn't hurt to start the conversation with my boss now to discuss where I am at, where I'd like to go, and what I need to do to get there. She is a great boss and incredibly savvy woman, and she thought it was the perfect time to start the discussion and was happy that I was speaking up. It was certainly not the week I expected at work, but served as a great reminder that by speaking up I was more in control than I realized. 

As the month comes to a close, I hope that you all can take a look at your life and speak up about whatever is bothering you or on something that you have been putting off - you might be surprised about what comes of these conversations!

Staying Sane in an Insane Life

One of the worst things about having a chronic illness is that you lose any semblance of control over your life, and as someone who likes to be in control, this can cause a lot of anxiety. When I got sick my world imploded - I gave up my dream job and was suddenly a jobless 21-year old living at home with no idea what was wrong with me and no control over everything going on in my life. Looking back on it, my parents and friends should probably be sainted for putting up with me through those 8-months post-Peace Corps/pre- & post-Lupus/APS diagnoses, because I was a mess. I was so angry and scared, I would cry and scream, and became an expert at throwing pity parties - that was when I wasn't being shuttled to and from doctors or trying to drum up the energy to get out of bed. My constant anxiety did not help matters, but everything was so out of control that managing my stress was not high on my list of priorities, and unfortunately it took me years to get around to dealing with it. Like a good Midwesterner I just put one foot in front of the other and dealt with things as they came. But I think that if I had dealt with the stress it would have made the road a lot smoother. 

As such, those of you who are going through stressful times - big or small - I recommend that you deal with the stress as well as the problem because it might just make the problem a little less intimidating. So here are my top stress-reliving tips. It took me a long time to cultivate this list, but when life gets crazy I am happy I have some go-to remedies to help me through and hopefully these can help you as you deal with whatever life is throwing at you:

• Exercise. When you are shouldering stress you want to have strong shoulders. Stress can really wear you out physically but if you are taking care of yourself you can counter that and keep yourself from getting sick. Also, exercise is a great stress reliever - a kickboxing class can be a great way to get some aggression out and a yoga class can do wonders for calming your mind (inward inversions like downward dog actually release endorphins).  
• Meditate. Mindfulness is no joke. I often have trouble sleeping and mindful meditation can calm my mind in a way that rivals Zzquill (for those of you who know me - that is saying a lot). At night it can be hard to quiet those voices that want to rehash all the problems you are going through and every terrible decision you ever made, but a few minutes of breathing and bringing yourself to the present can do a lot to make those voices take a break. It is also a good way to cool down after a good workout (see how i tied those two together?).
• At home spa. This one also falls into my cheap indulgences list, which will probably be a future post. I save fancy shampoo and bath stuff from hotels, and use them when I need to unwind or have an indulgent evening. I put on some chill music (Norah Jones or Muddy Waters), light candles, find a fluffy book, and give myself the full treatment. I use all the products, paint my nails, fix some fancy water with cucumbers in it, and afterwards I hang out in my robe listening to the music and meditating.
• Book a massage. When I need a bit more than the at home spa, I will go ahead and book a massage. As someone with a cheap soul, I usually go on Groupon or Living Social to find a deal and have yet to be disappointed with any of the deals. When I start to feel the stress in my shoulders and back I know it is time for me to book one. I prefer hot stone because I find that they break up the knots faster than a traditional massage, but you should go with whatever works for you.   
• Call someone. Texting and email are great, but sometimes you just need to actually talk to someone. Choose someone who you know won't judge or try and offer advice and tell them you want to talk it out or need a distraction. I have three different friends who I call when I need to talk - one for advice, one for distraction, and one for a bit of both - and to be honest no matter who I call I end up doing a bit of both, but it is nice to know I don't have to.
• Plan something for you. What do you love? What have you wanted to do for awhile but haven't? For me this ended up being art classes this summer, Toastmasters, and this blog. I have found that facing something I fear and challenging myself give me a sense of control - it can also be a great distraction. This can be signing up for that kickboxing class you have talked about for ages, trying to learn a new language, or taking those computer programming classes you've been considering. Another great option would be volunteering at a soup kitchen, because helping others has a way of putting life in perspective.
• Write it out. Journaling is a good way of spewing out all the stress and worry. It gets it out of your head and you can literally put it all aside once you are done. Hell, start a blog, but get it out of your head, at least for a little bit.
• Therapy. This is one way I am so NOT Midwestern - I love therapy. I think everyone should go because life can be super hard and there is no shame in getting some help to get through it. If an actual therapist isn't your jam - try a self-help book they exist for a reason and there a ton to chose from! But seriously, if your stress is getting to the point of overtaking you, go find someone to talk to, you don't have to do it alone.
• Escape. Sometimes we all just need to escape our problems to get a handle on them. Buy a cheap bus ticket to visit friends, a flight home to mom and dad, or a train ticket to an anonymous beach. Getting some distance from life can help to put everything in perspective and a long ride can give you some serious uninterrupted thinking time to figure out what is bothering you, why, and what your next steps should/could be. A quick warning about this uninterrupted time from someone who has been there: if you do this immediately post break-up/during a sad time, have someone handy to send you funny texts and keep you sane when you burst into tears on the train unexpectedly (thanks LC). 

Well, those are my tricks for keeping your sanity when your head feels like it can't possibly stay above water for another minute. Hopefully these will help you as they have helped me and if you think I missed any - shoot me a message in the comments!!