I, um, thanks.

First...I really want and need to say this, but I'm not one to express mushy feelings publicly, and especially on the internet. Not even because I'm ashamed of them, but because I'm concerned that other people will think I'm trying to get attention. In this case, it was just the best method I could come up with, so don't judge me too harshly. Or, I guess, you can. End disclaimer.

As is true for many introverts, I have perfectly lovely social skills and am not afraid to exercise them...it simply exhausts me to do so. Therefore I usually avoid small talk and only socialize for one of the following reasons:

1. I'm going to be spending a lot of time with someone and it would be unpleasant and/or uncomfortable to not get to know them,

2. I'm in my drunk phase known as "chatty",

3. We have shared interests or values that I enjoy discussing (which often leads to friendship),

4. Someone is a true and valued friend and socializing is not a chore but enjoyable.

I know this sounds judgmental, as if I'm too good to interact with individuals that don't fit my definition of interesting, and the first impression I give is very often one of superiority and standoffishness. This isn't my intent; I'm sure those people have a lot to offer and there are others out there who find them fascinating, but our personalities are not necessarily compatible, so I'd rather save my social energy for a relationship that I find meaningful. 

It won't come as a surprise, then, that I've always had a hard time making friends. All the way through late high school I had friends in the sense there were people with whom I went to the movies or concerts; we had fun, some were closer than others, and I rotated through a few best friends - though looking back, I never really fully opened up or felt comfortable with anyone. In fact, I didn't really value friendship. I actually remember having a conversation with a good friend and I told her that even though I was desperate for a boyfriend, I had just never really felt the need for close female friends. I had always gotten by fine without them. She was understandably offended. 

Because this is my modus operandi, I just assume everyone else thinks this way, too. Which would mean that everyone has a limited amount of social energy, and I wouldn't want to presume that they're willing to waste it on me. Why would anyone be interested in not only the boring monotony of my day-to-day, but also my depressing, anxious, twisted inner musings? I'm not trying to be emo. I know I have a lot to offer and I respect myself and like who I am; but I would truly, sincerely understand and not take offense if my presence were an imposition to people's lives. As such, I try not to ask much of others and (ignoring the deeper feminist implications) take up as little space as possible. 

But of course in reality not everyone is such an overthinker. Certain people have a talent for melting my cold exterior just by virtue of being themselves; whether they know it or not, it's like they're telling me "hey, I know I'm not perfect, but I think we're the same. I'm going to be myself around you, so you can be yourself around me". These friendships have, for the most part, lasted because they are highly valued, and entirely worth the social effort it takes on my end to maintain them.

And thank goodness for those people, because this week was rough; I had to get over my instinct to not be a bother and ask for help. Sometimes I just needed to talk, sometimes I needed advice, sometimes I needed a bigger favor. In every single case, my requests were accommodated with no questions asked and no judgment. People simply said "here is what you asked for - take as much as you need. Come back tomorrow and take more". Many of them I rarely talk to. Some of them I haven't even known that long. There are even more that I didn't reach out to who I know would do the same.  

Even though some of these friends I have had for a decade, even though they have let me cry in their beds and snot all over them, even though no one ever had a problem with me sitting around in their room doing nothing til 2 am, even though they weren't ashamed to talk to me during my mullet phase, even though every one of them has seen me puke and do Lord knows what other unspeakably embarrassing drunk things, then still not only made sure I get home safe, but reassured me that I'm welcome to puke all over the place if it makes me feel better, even though they've welcomed me into their homes across the state and country, and through all this I have never once felt unwanted...I still have a hard time believing that people are actively interested in being my friend. Not just any people, but people who I so strongly admire and value.

I feel like Sherlock when John asks him to be his best man, and he doesn't comprehend because he never thought that such a good person would want to be his friend. << #yeahisaidit #nerd #yolo #cumberbitch

This is not solely about this situation; it's just a particularly strong example. It's about every situation in which anyone has ever been there for me. I'm sorry if I didn't appreciate it enough at the time, I'm sorry that we don't talk more, I'm sorry that I'm bad at emotions. But I know you understand, and even though you'd probably tell me I don't have to say it...thank you.

Just me and the cats.

Oh hey, blog. It's been a while. Like, more than two months of a while. I've been busy, you know, working at a job I hate during the week in order to afford doing cool stuff on the weekends. Did you hear? I went to both Boston and Vermont this summer! Go me for increasing my airplane fuel consumption by 600% over 2011! And it's only September!

Oh right, but then I quit my job. Remember how I said I hated it? Yeah. I just left. I kinda hate that, because I'm not the type of person to leave without giving notice. But I had been thinking about quitting for a while, and just kept telling myself that it was irresponsible and I needed to hang on til I found another job. Then two weeks in a row I came home crying to Thomas because I was miserable, and one fateful Thursday morning the thought of returning the following Monday just filled me with dread. So I was like..."peace!" No really it was awkward and uncomfortable and I felt really awful about it, but what's done is done. I am 100% certified unemployed.

So, here I am, blog! For the past week, my days have more or less looked like: wake up at 7 or 8, spend most of the morning applying for jobs, make lunch, possibly run an errand or two, read, hang out with Thomas, possibly exercise, meditate, watch How I Met Your Mother, bed by 10 or 11. Not gonna lie, it's pretty awesome. I wouldn't mind having a sugar daddy.

In reality, though, the reason I was able to convince myself that this move was not all-together irrational, is that I'm devoting myself to the job hunt. Not just spending my lunch breaks e-blasting my resume across the Chicagoland area, but crafting tailored and gripping cover letters for those few places I really would love to work. My mom also calls a lot and asks me to come home and watch the dogs or visit Grandma since, you know, I'm not doing anything else.

In the meantime, I've accepted that it's only fair to take on the majority of the house work. I've also scavenged for free yoga classes and just got an email that I have a book in at the library. Free stuff! Maybe I'll sell some things on Etsy or start a professional blog for extra cash. Unfortunately that involves buying yarn and/or a domain. Whatevs.

It's been real, blog! Til we meet again, which, let's be honest, I hope is later rather than sooner.

OMG Everything you ever wanted to know about Ellyn's health

Oh hey, so you remember that time almost 4 months ago when I went to an acupuncturist and she detoxed me and told me to overhaul my diet, and then I was like "isn't this neat I'll let you all know how it goes!!!" and then I didn't? Well, that was mainly because nothing really...went. I never managed to cut sugar/wheat/dairy/coffee/alcohol completely out of my diet, but compared to what it had been before and what I imagine most people eat, those vices are all but an afterthought that has largely stuck, which I am pleased about. Yet trucking along in this way for months, I still had very little energy most of the time, and a lingering bacterial imbalance in my digestive system.

Fast forward to about mid-June when I happened to have my blood pressure taken, revealing 75/54. Oh, uh, whoa. Shit. That seems low, right? So I freaked a bit and worried about going into septic shock for the next week before I could see a doctor. By that time my blood pressure was up to something like 90/60, so she gave me a bunch of digestive enzymes/probiotics/yeasts for my stomach, told me to eat a lot of salt, and took a blood sample.

Fast forward another week to me sitting alone in an exam room at work, checking my email, and I open a PDF of the results of my blood test. "Tests reveal autoimmune hypothyroidism and iron-deficient anemia". Email is a strange way to find out you have a life-changing chronic illness.

So that's that. The anemia is kind of no big deal, I just have to take supplements and it will probably clear up, along with the bacterial infection, once my thyroid hormones become regulated. But that's a different story. When I went back in to talk to my doctor, she told me I'll probably have to take hormone replacements my entire life (although my chiropractor contested that notion). Regardless, I do have to take them for now. Fortunately they're natural rather than synthetic, although those have been more difficult to come by.

What it boils down to is that my thyroid is not producing enough T3 and T4. This is largely because of my excessive gluten intake throughout life: the molecular structure of gluten is very similar to the molecular structure of the thyroid, so when I eat gluten and my body attacks it, my body also attacks its own thyroid and therefore its own immune system (or something like that). Why my body decided to start attacking gluten at this particular point is a mystery, although it might have something to do with my body fighting this bacterial imbalance for the last six months. In the end, what was initially a temporary gluten cleanse is now a forever gluten elimination. My doctor said I won't die if I cave and eat a slice of pizza, but I'm not too sure if it's worth it. Thomas brought home cupcakes last night, which I did indulge in, and I was fine for a few hours before turning into a cranky, anxious bitch (read: body is already not regulating hormones properly, and the gluten caused it to attack the ones it was making).

So here's the thing point of all this:

This needed to happen to me.

I have had a sugar and wheat addiction probably my whole life. Not mentally, but physically. I have been a reasonably healthy person the last two years, but I could never kick the wheat and sugar. So some force beyond my knowledge decided that if I couldn't take care of it by choice, I would be forced to take care of it. I'm glad that happened, and I'm willing to work with it because I know I will be happier, less moody, and have more energy.

The part that SUCKS the most is that it's so difficult to find food without those things in it. And that's why I'm so concerned. I know not everyone has a serious gluten intolerance, but it is difficult for the human body to digest gluten. Wheat is also so far removed from its original form that it's more chemical than food. I'm sorry to sound preachy, but I hope this isn't just dismissed as health-food-nuttery. These are just facts. In the end, I would really encourage that if you have digestive problems, low energy, headaches, etc, to seriously look into a gluten-free diet. If we really are so concerned about reducing major chronic diseases in this country, we need to take responsibility for what we put in our own bodies.

Sorry about that last part, I couldn't resist. Anyway I guess that's the great reveal. Consider me diagnosed.

It's hard out there for a stingy, eco-friendly young lady.

Now that I'm no longer a student (read: no longer have a U-Pass), I've been riding my bike most places to save money. Usually it's fine. I've been a recreational city rider for a while, so I'm confident enough, and while my mother frets over my safety I've always figured if I'm cautious I'll be fine. It's also a great season for riding and the weather has been very forgiving (except that fuckin wind).

Mainly my riding consists of the 4-mile-each-way commute to work. I take a heavily frequented route, which is reassuring to know I'm not alone out there. Yesterday on my ride home:

1. The guy in front of me got clipped by a car that was pulling out from a light that had just changed green. The side of the car bumped his shin and the mirror got his handlebar. The guy was fine, as the car was only going 10 miles per hour, maybe, but he cursed at the driver, rightfully so. The driver was either a malicious bastard or COMPLETELY clueless. I was frazzled.
2. I was riding between cars parked at the curb to my right, and a huuuuuuuuge line of cars waiting at a stop light to my left. This is one of the most unsettling situations since space is very tight and you never know who's going to swing open a door. So I was riding quickly but cautiously when two dudes and a dog stepped from the sidewalk to cross the street in front of me, like right in front of me, giving me not much room to brake, and I thought I was gonna bowl over the dog. However I managed to swerve around them, and in an entirely nonthreatening way said "watch it". I didn't yell, I just sounded annoyed. Then one of the dudes yells back at me: "PEDESTRIAN RIGHTS!". Seriously, bro? You think I don't appreciate pedestrian rights?? If I could describe myself to an employer in three words, one of them would be "pedestrian", and all it entails. I know that pedestrians have rights, but if they don't want to die (or at least be considered a self-important dick) they won't step in front of quickly moving traffic. Bikes are no exception.
3. And while we're at it, all those guys who can't stand being passed by a girl can suck it. I am NOT very fast so this has only happened a couple of times, but it pisses me off. My conclusion is that if I can pass them then they must be pretty slow and have no business trying to prove anything.

To recap: I need a car. Or scooter.

grump grump.

I am seriously honest-to-goodness unbelievably sick of the job hunt. I'm constantly anxious and can't focus on anything else. I refresh my email and phone every 2 minutes just in case someone tried to contact me. When I'm not doing that, I'm checking the same 3 job sites over and over. I've submitted 39 job applications, have interviewed with three of them, and have heard just plain "we already filled the position" from 3 more. 39 applications and I've heard back from 6. Obviously, I have gotten none.

And it's also just a pain. I met with a guy about working at a dog boarder two weeks ago and he basically gave me the job but said he'd have to wait to get it approved by his boss. In the mean time of course I kept looking for jobs because I need something more than minimum wage. He called back today to say I could start Monday, but I turned him down because I'm still holding out for a big girl job and don't want to work there for like 3 weeks then leave. So now I feel like a jerk because he thought I was gonna take it, and I think he still thinks I'm gonna take it if I don't find something by June. But how can I? How can I commit myself to a minimum wage part-time job, and not still look for something else?

After I hung up I nearly vomited with anxiousness. Honest. And now after writing this I want to scream.

I have a Master's Degree, people. Not that that makes me more awesome than anyone, but it certainly makes me qualified to do SOMETHING. Tomorrow I get a diploma that put me $30k in debt (at least...I don't even know) and my employment prospects are looking no better than they would have if I had taken a few technical training courses or gotten an Associate's in something. Actually those people are probably getting paid more because they have actual skills.

Jin & Tonic

I've been getting a lot of infections of sorts lately, which the usual suspects (doctors) can't seem to figure out the cause of nor get rid of. After trying "home remedies" like adjusting my diet and chugging apple cider vinegar to no avail, I made an appointment to see a Chinese herbalist. Rather, she's a licensed acupuncturist, but I just wanted immune-boosting herbs. The name of her practice is Jin & Tonic (like herbal tonic...cool right?)

I went to her office yesterday and was really excited 'cause I'm into this kinda stuff, and we talked about what's going on, and she gave me a bunch of eastern-informed balanced diet tips. Apparently I have too much "damp heat" in my body, so I shouldn't have raw veggies or cow's dairy (which create mucus), yeast, sugar, spices, coffee, or grilled things. I should have a lot of sauteed greens, herbal tea, and grains. Fruit is fine. Eventually I should be able to reincorporate spices, goat's dairy, grilled things, limited wheat, and occasional raw veggies, but not white sugar. I also learned that the spleen is somehow connected to sugar (and the liver is connected to sourness...I don't fully understand this part), but the fact that I eat way too much sugar is probably related to having had mono (spleen failure) 3 times throughout my life, first very severely at age 5.

Then she said "So you want acupuncture?". And I said "Uuhhh if that's what you think I need". And she said it was. Not only that, but she recommended a treatment called Gua Sha, which involves "scraping" the back and neck with a curved seashell-looking tool to pull the toxins out of your body. She said it would hurt, but was necessary if I wanted to really get healthier. So I did both.

I feel like every time I've seen someone get acupuncture on TV, you know, like when I watch the Dr. Oz show at the gym, the patient is always so shocked because they can't even feel it and it doesn't hurt at all. That's wrong. It's not super painful, but you definitely feel a prick from the needle. After a while it goes away, but on some sensitive parts it doesn't. And don't you dare move, because you will feel it. I literally had to lay completely still for half an hour. When I did unintentionally twitch my big toe, my calf cramped up horribly and I thought I had ruined everything. But it went by pretty fast and was sorta relaxing. I wish she had taken a picture, 'cause I would have liked to see myself with needles sticking out of my face.

Then came the Gua Sha. She prefaced it by saying "I don't press too hard but it will feel like I'm scraping off your skin". Good. In fact, her definition of "not too hard" is completely opposed to my definition. I don't even know what to say about it, other than that it's exactly what you would imagine. It was ridiculously painful, more so in some sensitive, more toxin-ated parts. In the picture you see below, that's not actually bruising, those are my toxins. Bruises don't show up the second you bump your leg, they take a while, at least a few minutes, to develop. This was instant. Like the second she pulled one little scrape across my shoulder blade she's say "oh this part's gonna be bad".

All in all, she said it wasn't as bad as she expected and that I probably have good metabolism since I'm young and fairly active. Though some parts are dark purple, it could have been black. Take a look:

The lingering pain isn't is bad as you would expect, but my neck is pretty stiff and it does feel like my back is mildly-moderately bruised. I actually think it's pretty badass and I don't regret it at all. I can't say whether I feel more energetic or detoxified for now, but I don't feel worse so...that's gotta mean something.

A revelation

You know what I just realized? I hate cooking.

I don't know who I've been fooling all these years. Week after week, rather than sticking with simple, throw it together, no-cook meals, I've slaved over the stove in search of the perfect balance of nutrition and flavor.
Here's something to know: many vegetarians don't bother to make sure they're getting enough protein, and many who do rely heavily on soy. Soy is very convenient and filling. But I do care about protein, and I don't eat soy outside of the sauce variety, so I've had to be very creative in coming up with dishes that use beans - sometimes nuts, dairy, and eggs, but those are more snacky-type proteins in my world. As a result, recipe searching and meal planning and grocery list making have consumed me. Plus I'm picky in other ways - trying to cut back on sugar, eating mostly whole foods with no funny stuff, lots of veggies, you know. Cooking has just become a huge and unquestionable part of my life.

But today I questioned! I was making tomato soup from scratch, because Trader Joe's tomato soup has sugar and carageenan (WTF why?), and it was like 80 degrees out and I was making a mess and I ended up with a million dishes. Dishes are a huge reason I hate cooking. And I thought: Shit. I don't have time for this.

My mother always said that if she could, she'd hire a cook over a maid. I thought she was nuts. Cooking is fun! I loved trying out new recipes when we had guests over or for special occasions. It probably helped that we had a "whoever cooks doesn't have to do the dishes" rule (totally subjecting my future kids to that). But the thing is, I never HAD to cook. I HAD to clean, but I never came home from school or work, just wanting to watch TV or play with my friends, but instead heading straight to the kitchen to work some more. I definitely get it now.

SO, what does this mean for Ellyn? There are a TON of sandwiches and salads in my future. And honestly, I can't wait. The thought of not waiting for rice to boil and no sloppy pots to clean...makes me want to cry.