Where I’ve Been


Not sure if anyone out there will read this, but here’s hoping someone might find it helpful or interesting.  I’ve been wanting to write it for a long time now. I suck at writing anymore. I never make time for it, even though it’s all I really want to do.

Anyway, it feels good to be sitting here with my cup of coffee in my newly redecorated room, typing away.

I wanted to pop in to say hello again and to let you know after 10 months of suffering from scary pelvic pain, I am better.

I think…no, I KNOW…people who have no experience with pelvic pain hear that and think–huh. That sucks. But how bad can that be?

Before I had it, I had never really heard of pelvic floor dysfunction. I had no idea how or why someone would get chronic pelvic pain. And given the fact that I’ve always been a physically healthy person, I figured I was immune from ever getting something like that.

I was wrong.

Turns out I developed chronic pelvic pain created by stress and anxiety. I had what they call a hypertonic pelvic floor, meaning my muscles that compose my pelvic floor were constantly clenched until they went ballistic and started spasming. Which, if you can’t imagine what that feels like–ever have a Charley horse in your leg? Or a muscle spasm in your back? You know how that kind of pain knocks the wind out of you and brings you to your knees? It’s the same thing, but in the muscles that surround your nether-regions.

Yes, it’s as fucking horrible as it sounds.

Just thinking about it freaks me out. My pain was so bad for so long, just remembering it now scares the heck out of me.

I went from being someone who woke up every day and did a million + things to someone who woke up and instantly thought–I don’t want this day to begin. And I’d stay in bed, sometimes all day. Because I was afraid to move. I was scared to death of the pain. I was scared of the idea of always being that way–sick and unable to do anything the way I used to and afraid I would never feel better or happy again.

I thought life as I had always known it was over.

I had a very hard time talking to anyone who wasn’t my husband or my friend who understood and had true sympathy for me. Everyone else didn’t understand, didn’t care to understand, and my tolerance for people wanting things from me–even if it was just a conversation with the “old Susan”–was non-existent. I mean, if they couldn’t help me, or even just shut up and listen, I couldn’t have anything to do with them. I was envious of people who felt fine and were able to take their lives for granted. I resented people who only wanted me in their lives when I could be the funny girl they were all used to. I know I freaked a lot of people out when I got sick.

Oh well.

I was no longer the girl I used to be. And I thought above all else I really wanted to get back to being that girl. Little did I know, my brain and my body set me on a course to intense discoveries and changes I didn’t even know (or more like didn’t want to know) I needed.

Anyway, I have to stop tip-typing away here and start getting ready to go to my in-laws to visit for my father-in-law’s birthday.

I’ll come back soon to tell you more about this experience I’ve been through. I know there are people out there who suffer with pain every day like I used to. I’d like to put my story out there so people know they can get better. I know when I was sick, I spent all day and night online, trying to find some sort of hope and camaraderie for what I was going through.

I’ll also talk about fun stuff here because I love fun stuff and today I can enjoy fun stuff once again.

Speaking of fun stuff, I’m off to do all kinds of it today.  So I’ll talk to you again soon.

Before I go, please enjoy a picture of my dog. This is what it’s like for me every time I try to do…well, anything.

She’s cute though, huh.

penny in my face


Product of a Strong Female

I was just sifting through my phone’s pictures and came across one I’d like to share here today.

The red-head blowing a kiss in this picture is my daughter. She’s almost 25 years old. She is my baby. Therefore I believe I will always say whenever she turns another year on her calendar–where has the time gone?

Anyway, I’m proud of my kids. Actually, they’re what I am most proud of in the world.

I love this picture.

Maria has been dancing since she was 2 years old. These days, she dances in drag shows, and my husband and I go to every single one.

At the last one, at the end of the show, Maria came out for the encore wearing this shirt.

It made me cry tiny tears of happiness.

A. that she thinks of me as a strong female and

B. I know she is one.


sis strong female

Heartache Tonight

Guess who is performing in my hometown tonight?


Read the title of my post.

Yep. Those of you old enough know–

It’s The Eagles.

I don’t have tickets because I’ve been feeling so crappy the last bunch of months that I haven’t felt like doing anything. Plus, my husband isn’t such a big fan. I don’t think he cares too much about the fact that this is the last time we’d be able to see them live.

Of course it’s not the original line up, with Glenn being gone and all.

But you know why the Eagles mean something to me?

I LOVE the song Hotel California.

Ever since I was little when it first came out, I’ve loved it.

I like the music, I like the story, I like the idea of pink champagne on ice.

I also like that the song scared the bejesus out of the Christian counselors who used to hang with my crew when I was a teenager at the local pizza shop after Sunday night worship service we attended to see if there were any cute guys there. We were such little shits–playing songs on the jukebox we knew would stir the fear of Satan’s wrath in those people’s pizza-guzzling oh-so-vulnerable souls.

Hotel California was a staple for that kind of fun. Second only to Stairway to Heaven, of course.

But this is my favorite Hotel California memory.

I was 9 when my older sister was a senior in high school. I distinctly remember her taking me with her to Pizza Hut one night when all of her cool high school friends were there in that dark yummy pizza joint.

She and I played songs on the jukebox that night. (I’m just now fully realizing how this song has so many pizza place jukebox memories for me).

I felt so cool being there with the big kids, and getting to choose a tune all on my own.

Pam played “Lido Shuffle” by Boz Skaggs, which to this very day reminds me of her.

I played–you guessed it–“Hotel California”.

Whenever I hear that song I’m transported back in time to that cavernous pizza facility full of long-haired teenagers wearing painters pants and Earth shoes.

God knows what I had on that night. I was just hitting my incredibly unattractive awkward stage. I know I had a shag hairdo and probably wore a gauzy embroidered smocked shirt and jeans.

Anyway. That was a cool time. I appreciated my sister taking me along with her. I can only guess she probably didn’t really want to, but she did anyway.


The Eagles are in town tonight and truth be told, if we could swing it, I’d go.

Tickets are so expensive. Plus our daughter and her girlfriend are supposed to come for dinner and to work on daughter’s tax return tonight.

These are things I would be willing to give up if reasonably-priced tickets somehow made their ways into my hot little hands.

I keep watching the Ticketmaster site. People are trying to “resale” tickets for astronomical amounts there.

I can’t help wondering if the closer we get to showtime, maybe they might lower their sights?

I’ll keep checking.

If by some miracle I get there tonight, I actually have a gauzy white shirt somewhat similar to the one i had when i was 9. Im pretty sure I have a pair of jeans to pair with it.

But there ain’t no way in hell I’d resurrect the shag hairdo. That thing was a hot mess. The Eagles would be looking at me like–look at the chick in the audience whose hair thinks it’s 1976.

To finish, won’t you please take a moment to enjoy my all-time favorite version of what is probably like my #7 or 8th all-time favorite song.