Advice for My 12-Year-Old Self

When I look back at my childhood, there are lots of pleasant memories to pick from.  And for that I am lucky. You hear all these stories now in the media about children being bullied and harassed, both in person and on the internet.  It seems like growing up in today's world is a lot harder than it was when I was coming of age.  As I have a son-to-be growing in my belly currently, it makes me anxious to think of what the world will be like for him when he enters adolescence.  I am blessed to have had an overall happy and fulfilled childhood.  However, if I had to pick a difficult period of my young life, it would have been from around age 12 through the end of high school.  It's an awkward phase of growth and maturation, and girls at that age can be brutal.  I wouldn't go back and change anything, because my experiences have shaped me into the person I am today.  However, I do often reflect on the advice and tips I would give my 12-year-old self, if I ran into her on the street (presumably in a Back to the Future spinoff).

When other teenage girls make fun of the way you dress, don't be insulted.  I guarantee they won't go on in life to freelance for Vogue.
I have never really had too much of an issue with self-esteem or confidence.  That said, I'm not made of stone.  I still remember coming home crying (with a little PMS exacerbating everything) over comments other girls had made to me at school.  They said I folded my socks the wrong way, cut my hair too short, and had bushy eyebrows (that last point is not that inaccurate...mothers: let your girls tweeze!).  The fact that I wore a Catholic schoolgirl uniform from kindergarten to 12th grade minimized these comments, but didn't eliminate them.

I've never been a trendy person, and I value comfort and efficiency over style.  As I grew older, I learned not to be ashamed by this, but I wish I'd accepted my own fashion identity sooner.  Years later in college a roommate and I were shopping and I picked up a striped shirt I thought was cute.  She said, "Oh Laura, it's so nineties - so you."  And I smiled, because I knew that it was true, and I didn't care one bit.  Today I love my closet and my short hair, and fold my socks however I want to without a second thought.  You'll never be happy if you look in the mirror and see Hollister Barbie, because even if you look amazing, you won't be you (unless of course, you ARE Hollister Barbie, then please disregard).  True happiness is self-acceptance.  Come as you are and life will be much more fulfilling.  That, and never underestimate the joy that comes from a pair of oversized sweatpants.

Your older brother isn't a moron, and your younger sister isn't a dweeb.  
Okay, so maybe they are.  However, they also possess many redeeming qualities I never gave them credit for when I was 12.  I found my older brother N annoying and dismissive.  We clashed quite a bit until he left for college out-of-state.  Then slowly, a bond started to form.  I discovered he was a good listener, and also pretty smart I hated to admit.  By the time I entered college four years later, N was one of my best friends.  I called him on many late nights, to confess my embarrassment over kissing a boy when I'd had a little bit too much to drink, to cry when I'd been hurt and betrayed by a close friend, or just to tell him about something funny that had happened in the quad.  I'm happy to say that although we live on opposite coasts, we still share a strong relationship, though I don't call him as late anymore because he is an old man with two little daughters and resides several time zones away.  It takes time to find common ground with a sibling of the opposite sex, but once you do they become very valuable allies.

At 12, I found my younger sister A bizarre and didn't think I could relate to her in any way.  Her introverted personality and obsession with topics like Egyptian hieroglyphics vexed me.  What I didn't recognize then was her passion for life and her independent spirit.  Today A's obsession has moved on to the country of Canada.  After talking for years about how much she loves it there, she is making her dreams a reality.  Currently she's working at a Canadian consulate for the summer, and in the fall will be attending grad school near Winnipeg. It's a brave move, uprooting yourself and moving to a place where you have no history or links.  I respect and admire A's willingness to grab life by the horns.   Sibling relationships are often difficult, but it is important to remember that they are invaluable, and constantly evolving.

Your parents are neither gods nor devils.
When you're 12 they usually seem like a combination of the two.  Occasionally when they don't allow you to do whatever you want to do at that very second, it seems like they are using their god-like powers for evil.  I felt quite persecuted when my parents forbid me from getting my ears double pierced.  I ended up doing it anyway, but that's another story for another day. The rest of the time we as children usually accept that our parents know best how things should be, and follow their leads accordingly.  As I grew up, I discovered a few things.  Firstly, they are flawed human beings.  They sometimes act unfairly and do things the wrong way.  Shocking, I know.  Secondly, the "right way" that your parents teach you isn't really right or wrong, it's merely one option.

The challenge of transitioning into adulthood is morphing the lessons parents teach us with ones learned on our own, and using that combination to find our way in life and make independent decisions.  Thirdly and most importantly, there are no two people in the world who have your back more than your parents.  Mine have seen me through many rough trials, and even living thousands of miles away, I know they'd be here for me in a second if I called.  If you look up love and loyalty in the dictionary, you'll probably find pictures of your parents, if you're as lucky as I am.

Never change yourself for a boy.
Boys really weren't on my radar yet at age 12, and my younger self would have probably scoffed at the notion that I would ever conform for a relationship.  But eventually years later, it happened.  You get older, see your friends getting into relationships, and start wanting one of your own.  You get so caught up in the idea of having a boyfriend that you find yourself acting like a completely different person in order to be who (you think) the other person wants.  It's not something I am proud to admit.  I buried my country music CDs (I'm so sorry, Shania), quit the high school choir senior year (because it wasn't cool), and did a host of other things my subconscious wasn't at ease with.  In the end, it didn't make anyone happy, and I wasted a lot of time on someone who was never right for me to begin with.  True love doesn't come around too often, but it is totally worth waiting for.  Decide what you want (and deserve) early on and don't settle for anything less.  Don't change, don't negotiate, and don't conform.  Make sure the person you end up with isn't just someone you can love, but someone you can call your best friend as well.  When I met T, I knew he was the one.

A big reason why was I felt I could be myself around him - the good, the bad, and the ugly.  I sang along with "Man, I Feel Like a Woman!" in the car on our first road trip together.  I told T secrets I'd never told anyone else.  I let him in fully, and he did the same for me. And in return, I have a blissful marriage with a better partner than I ever thought I deserved.


The world is a very big place.
A sixth grade classroom at a Catholic grade school with only thirty kids in it is the very definition of insular.  At the time it seemed like my life operated in a very small universe, in which I was labeled by the powers that be early on as a "nerd," and a "goody-two-shoes."  In retrospect, neither of those terms were completely inaccurate, but at the time they seemed a lot more offensive to my sensibilities than they do now.  High school and college both provided me slightly broader social circles in which to move and develop.  However, I was still resigned to my assumed future of above average academic performance, followed by a high-powered career, and eventually a marriage and kids, all occurring in a fifty mile radius of the Twin Cities metropolitan area.  As it often does though, life surprised me.  I met my husband, and the adventure began.  Three years ago, I took the large leap of moving away from St. Paul, my home of 24 years and everything and everyone I'd ever known.  Since then, I have lived in Ohio and California, driven through most of the rest of the country, made friends from every region (many with humorous accents), and am currently living in a giant sandbox.  I'm a housewife who cans and composts instead of a career woman.  I never had pets growing up (and never wanted them either), yet now often have a 60lb lab named Buster in my bed at night.  

Life will offer you many opportunities to reinvent yourself, and discover the broader world around you. Embrace the chaos and enjoy the ride.

Migraine Awareness Month #15: Free Blog! - A Second Chance

So today's blog prompt says I can write about whatever I'd like, relating to migraine of course.  I have a very long history with migraine, so the possibilities were endless!  I decided though, that what I'd like to write about most was a life-changing ordeal I suffered in the summer of 2005.  I had just finished up my sophomore year of college.  It had taken all my willpower to battle through final exams, as my migraines were in a chronic and severe state.  I went to see a new neurologist who was a headache specialist, we'll call him Dr. W.  Dr. W surmised that part of what was causing my issues was a "screwed up" curvature of the cervical spine, and no, that is not the fancy medical lingo he used, but it gets the point across.  I was put on two types of muscle relaxants and sent to physical therapy in order to improve the curvature, and hopefully reduce the severity and frequency of the migraines.

A few weeks into the new treatment, I was arriving home from a date with my then-boyfriend.  He walked me up to the house, and as my dad opened the door for us, I collapsed to the floor.  Luckily one of them caught me before my head touched the ground.  I had lost consciousness, and though I regained it quickly, clearly something wasn't right.  In the days and weeks that followed, I was overrun with dizzy spills, and more concerning, recurrent numbness in my arms and legs.  One morning I woke up and found I couldn't move my arm.  My parents rushed me to the local emergency room in a panic.  The ER staff quickly did a routine CT scan of my head to rule out any life-threatening issues.  I noticed while still in the CT room that there was a pair of x-ray techs pointing at my images, and they were whispering in concerned tones to each other.  I tried to pass it off as my own paranoia, but deep down I knew this wasn't good news.

The ER doctor returned to the room with a solemn look on his face and notified us that there was a mass found on my brain.  They wanted to do an MRI to take a closer look.  For those who don't know, an MRI is when they put you in a small tube, cage your head in, and take lots of pictures with a machine that makes extremely loud and nefarious noises.  On a good day, it's disconcerting.  When you've just been told you have a brain tumor, it's hell on earth.  I had a panic attack when they first put me in, and had to be pulled out, consoled and talked off the ledge by a sweet nurse, and put back in.  It was the hardest half hour of my life in that stupid tube.

The MRI confirmed the existence of a mass.  The ER doctor told us, "this is not something that is going to kill you today or anything, but it is very serious, so you should head over to your neurologist's office right now."  I really hope that doctor is no longer practicing, because he had a horrible bedside manner. Dr. W downplayed the results, saying that it didn't look like a typical tumor to him, but he would do a more advanced MRI to double check.  After an agonizing week or so wait, he called to tell me that it was indeed a brain tumor, one with significant blood flow (I know this isn't good, but I couldn't tell you why), and that he was going to have some world famous radiologist look at it and make some recommendations.  After that, the next step would be to consult with a neurosurgeon.  The hoity toity radiologist was on vacation for the next ten days, so it would be about two weeks before we heard anything more.

My life as I knew it came crashing down on me.  Minutes ago I had been a relatively normal college student living in a dorm with friends, a boyfriend, and a summer work-study job.  My biggest concerns were whether or not to get highlights, and deciding on a major.  Now I was figuring out how to take a medical leave of absence from school, staring in the mirror at my hair wondering how much longer I'd have it, and researching the newest surgical treatments online.  I felt numb.  My family members cried a lot over the next few days, which upset me, but mostly I was so focused on being informed and getting this fixed that I didn't allow myself the time to process or feel.

Two long tortuous weeks passed, and someone upstairs must have been watching out for me.  Dr. W called to say that the famed radiologist had diagnosed the mass as a cortical dysplasia (or as my family likes to call it now, an "Anna Kournikova").  A cortical dysplasia is something you're born with, and can cause epilepsy in rare cases, but most people who have them don't even know it.  It is NOT a brain tumor.  We found out later that the cortical dysplasia was faintly visible on a x-ray taken of my head in 1996.  It went unnoticed or unmentioned by the doctors at the time, but had not changed in size or appearance between 1996 and 2005,  which was very encouraging.  It was later determined by Dr. W that the combination of muscle relaxants I had been prescribed caused my blood pressure to frequently plummet to an extrememly low level, resulting in the odd symptoms I had been experiencing.  There was also a possibility that some minor seizure activity was also occurring, but once off the muscle relaxants all my symptoms vanished, making epilepsy unlikely.   I was not dying.  I was not even sick, save the migraines.  I felt like I had been given a second chance.

I resumed school in the fall, and life went back to normal...well sort of.  Going through this ordeal left a clear imprint on my personal identity.  I was undeniably changed.  When your life is threatened, you start reflecting on how you've been living it.  I identified the positives to keep and the negatives to change, which resulted in some big shakeups.  For starters my 3 year relationship with my boyfriend ended mere weeks later.  The tumor debacle made me begin to question if he was the person I wanted holding my hand through life's trials.  Once that spark of discontent set in (and to be fair, I don't think either of us had been happy for a while), the breakup soon followed.  I also realized who my true friends were - the ones who brought me ice cream and watched bad 80s movies with me on the hard nights (thank you, Grace), instead of the ones who avoided me in the quad on campus and didn't return my calls.  The final big change was a strengthening of my relationships with family members, in particular my father.  We had clashed often throughout most of my teenage years, in part because we are too alike, both stubborn and bullheaded (with a penchant for speaking without filtering first when we're mad).   This medical scare forced us to bond together, and now we communicate much better. He is one of the people I confide in most often.

I can honestly say that I handle my migraines much better since this incident.  I'm still far from perfect, but I do a much better job of staying calm in the middle of a migraine, and am more self-sufficient with regards to my own medical care and overall health.  A lot of it is perspective.  Yes, I'm in pain sometimes, am not able to maintain a professional career, and often have to miss parties and important events.  No, it's not fun.  But I'm alive, and these migraines are not threatening that status on a daily basis.  There are many people out there not only suffering horrible pain, but also battling for their lives, for just one more day with their loved ones.  It's an important lesson for all of us - to appreciate our blessings and treat every day as an opportunity to live fully, love fiercely, and touch someone else's life in a positive way.

"Pain reminds us we're alive.  Love reminds us why."
-Unknown

National Migraine Awareness Month is initiated by the National Headache Foundation. The Blogger's Challenge is initiated by www.FightingHeadacheDisorders.com.

Migraine Awareness Month #4: "June Is Bustin' Out All Over!"

This month is Migraine Awareness Month, a month near and dear to my heart.  Being diagnosed with chronic migraines nearly 16 years ago changed my life forever.  Migraines have affected my overall health, personal relationships, career (or lack thereof), and most other aspects of my life.  Despite the admitted suffering and stress migraines have caused, I feel that I am a stronger person because of what I have had to overcome.  Nonetheless, life without migraines would certainly be preferable, and I am all for anything that focuses attention on migraine awareness and research.   Every day this month, a new blog prompt is provided on a specific topic relating to migraine.  I hope to complete a few entries before the month is out.  Today's topic is how to enjoy summer fun despite migraines.

Well, my first suggestion is to be pregnant for the duration of the summer, like I will be this year. Obviously this is not an option for half of us (sorry, guys) and not an attractive option for many others.  But for me, it is working.  This is my first (mostly) migraine-free summer in 16 years, and it is due to my beloved estrogen levels.  Now, if I could only plan to be pregnant every summer, I could get rid of summer migraines forever, and maybe even get my own TLC show!

But seriously, the biggest thing to remember about summer and migraines is to stay well hydrated.  Dehydration is such a major concern, especially in desert climates like where I live.  The temperatures are usually in the high 80s early in the morning and late into the evening, with afternoons topping around 100.  This weather takes a big toll on our bodies, which require adequate water supplies in order to function properly.  Pop, coffee, tea, and energy drinks don't cut it.  Water, gatorade, or juice are much better options.  Dehydration is one of my main triggers of migraine.  Sometimes I feel like all I do is drink (or go the bathroom), but it's worth it if you can avoid the pain of a nasty migraine.  Plus, once you're dehydrated you're more prone to nausea/vomiting if a migraine does come on, and then trying to keep any medication in your system becomes a major struggle.   Hydrate, hydrate, hydrate!

Another tip is to invest in a good pair of sunglasses.  Glare from the sun can cause migraines for a lot of us.  That great pair from Target may look trendy and cost cheap, but odds are they are not providing proper protection for your eyeballs.  Sunglasses with polarized lenses are your best option.  Also, if you wear prescription regular glasses, you may want to invest in anti-glare lenses.  That way if you forget your sunglasses, you won't be completely blinded, and they also work well for night driving.

I love summer, and spending lots of time outdoors.  Suffering from migraines shouldn't prevent you from making plans for weekend camping trips, concerts, cookouts, and beach days.  It might be a good idea to plan for activities of shorter duration outside, building in indoor rest time in between to recover.  If you know you're going to be out and about all day, try to limit your other triggers as best you can (make sure you're well-rested, well-fed, and have all your meds on hand in case of an emergency).  And finally, if the worst happens and that migraine hits, try to stay calm and accept the inevitability of the situation.  Sometimes no matter how careful we are, that gnarly migraine shows up.  It does no good to feel guilty and cry (though I do it sometimes anyway).  Go burrow yourself in that cold dark basement, put a funny movie on, and slap an ice pack on your forehead.  Tomorrow is another day, and it's more likely to be a great one if you take care of yourself today.

National Migraine Awareness Month is initiated by the National Headache Foundation. The Blogger's Challenge is initiated by www.FightingHeadacheDisorders.com.

Northern Exposure

(Warning: possibly excessive mentions of cankles and food consumption in this post)

After a nearly 16 month absence, T and I recently returned to our home state of Minnesota.  We set off late on a Wednesday night, for a week-long sojourn of family time, baby showers, and fun.  The flight from LA was long and bumpy.  I have to say, turbulence feels quite a bit more unsettling when there is a baby bouncing around in your stomach.  It turns out that flying in your second trimester also results in an attractive set of cankles.  I am surprised I didn't have to be cut out of my shoes.  Despite the bad weather and bumpy flight, we made it in one piece, and headed straight to bed at T's parents on the west side of town.

The next day we headed to the local DMV bright and early.  It is a very long and uninteresting story, but I needed to reapply for a Minnesota driver's license.  I had to retake the written test, and this may sound ridiculous, but I was horribly nervous.  I have never been the best test taker.  When I took the written test to get my Ohio license, I got a few questions wrong in a row, which resulted in an anxiety attack, which resulted in me flunking it the first time.  Utterly mortifying.  This time was different though.  I was welcomed by two sweet ladies with kind smiles, wool sweater vests, and strong northern accents right out of "Fargo."  Only at the Minnesota DMV.  People get shot at the DMVs in California, but in Minnesota they want to make you a hot dish and knit you a scarf.  Bolstered by the positivity in the room, I sailed through the test, smiled triumphantly at my husband (who thought I was nuts to be stressed in the first place), and fist pumped out of there with my yellow paper license in hand.

That evening was baby shower #1.  I was worn out and still sporting my airplane cankles, but bolstered by a large lunch at Shamrock's (mmmm Juicy Nookie burger), I rallied.  The generosity of my mother-in-law's circle of friends was astonishing.  We received such great gifts for our baby boy.  T's relatives from Wisconsin and Indiana traveled all the way to the Twin Cities for the occasion, which was really special.  My favorite gift was a beautiful baby blanket made for us by T's great-grandmother.

She made a bunch of baby blankets for all her grandchildren before she passed, so that their future children would have a remembrance of her when they were born.  We will always treasure it.

On Friday T and I attended our first Minnesota Twins game at Target Field with our parents and a large entourage of extended family.  I drank about six bottles of water trying to combat the still lingering cankles, which resulted in me having to visit the restroom at the end of every inning.  Luckily the guys at the end of the row didn't seem to mind, as they had to make beer runs every inning anyway.  It was a fun game, and the fireworks afterwards were really neat.

Late that night more of T's extended family from Wisconsin arrived, and we officially had a full house of about a dozen people.  It's few and far between that we all can get together, so it was great that everyone made the effort to gather while we were in town.

It rained most of Saturday, so we spent a few hours at the Mall of America.  It was crowded, and I think I have pregnancy-induced claustrophobia, because it really bugged me out.  We took it easy that night, enjoying a delicious dinner of my father-in-law's famous brats.  Early on Sunday we bid T's family adieu and headed east to my family's side of town.

Sunday marked baby shower #2.  Again, I was touched by the number of people who made the effort to attend on a busy holiday weekend, and we received great gifts, including a giant haul of adorable clothing.  My cousins' outdid themselves with a fabulous food spread (because really, it's all about the food people), and some fun shower games.  I was especially glad that my Minnesota BFF's K & J were able to make it, and spend some time (if all too brief) catching up.

Sunday night we enjoyed Carbone's pizza and cheese bread (again with the food, I know), and played a few heated games of Russian Rummy before bed.

Monday was Memorial Day, and we spent the afternoon by the shores of the St. Croix River in Stillwater.  Due to the recent heavy rains the water levels were quite high.

We enjoyed the best weather of the trip, dipped our toes in the cold river water, and walked across the lift bridge over to the Wisconsin border and back.  After that we met my sister for a early evening showing of Men in Black 3, which was surprisingly very well-done and entertaining.  And in case you were waiting for my daily food update, dinner was at Sgt. Pepper's where I consumed a patty melt and a giant pile of waffle fries with seasoned sour cream.  Mon dieu.

Tuesday we visited with my aunt and uncle, had a quick lunch with T's dad, and did a little shopping with my mom.  During the latter part of the day we focused on relaxing and prepping for the next day's journey home.  After a last supper of steak on the grill, the sun set on our Minnesota odyssey.  Wednesday afternoon we boarded our flight back to LA.  I had to use the restroom at least three times on the three and a half hour flight, but thankfully the very zen gentleman sitting next to me didn't mind, as he enjoyed the excuse to stand up and perform elaborate yoga poses in the aisle for everyone.  We landed around 5 in LA without incident, and thankfully experienced very little 405 traffic gridlock before reaching our sandy high desert home a few hours later.

All in all, it was a great trip.  We spent some very precious quality time with family, enjoyed visits to our favorite Twin Cities haunts, and received a great foundation of clothing and supplies for our baby boy.  It is difficult to travel while pregnant, and I am not quite sure how women do it in the third trimester.  I think we timed it just right, a few weeks before I morph into a full-on whale.  It was such a relief to come home to my own bed, cuddle with my puppies, and get back to my normal routine.  The summer has arrived with full force here in the AV, and I look forward to a few months of hiding out from the heat inside getting everything all ready for baby.  He'll be here before we know it!  What a lucky boy to have such a large extended family up north loving him, praying for his safe arrival, and blessing our growing family with their support and well wishes.