As You Wish

So, a year ago, I promised you guys a wedding blog. Either I forgot I said that, or life got so busy it MADE me forget that... but somehow, that never happened.

Here we are, a year+ into our marriage, and I am finally going to write it. Now, a recap for those new to the blog: Steve and I have had quite a journey over the last 9 years. We became friends on Twitter, over our love of the Atlanta Braves. When I became single a couple years later, we started talking more often, and our relationship developed. We met for the first time in person in Atlanta, June 2013, when we attended Chipper Jones's number retirement, and have been together ever since.

Steve likes to tell people he proposed 493,876 times - he probably did, but in his version of the story, I turned him down all those times. Truth is, we planned our wedding in October 2013 in a hotel room in Halifax, NS. We knew I was going to move to Canada, so we agreed the wedding would be in Atlanta. Atlanta will ALWAYS be home to me, and is the foundation of us getting together, so it was the perfect location. Little did we know, our immigration journey was going to be a long and bumpy one. November 2018, I FINALLY moved up to Canada on a visa. We got married in a quick justice of the peace ceremony in December so we could put in my permanent resident application. I didn't want to let go of the wedding I'd been planning for over 5 years, so we decided we'd still have the Atlanta wedding, and that would be the day we actually celebrated as our wedding anniversary.

I spent 5 months planning a wedding remotely, and let me tell you - I could not have asked for better vendors than the ones we used. I'll add all of their links at the bottom of this blog, because they deserve any and all business I can bring them. The ONLY part of the planning that was stressful for me, was not being able to see the venue in person. I am ALWAYS in hostess mode, and not knowing exactly where everything was, and how it was laid out (I was given floor plans and pictures, but it's never the same as seeing it in person) was killing me. Having a ridiculously patient venue staff was much appreciated, because I know I can be a lot, at times. I also was stressing over our wedding portraits, not knowing the scenery available to us at the venue. The portraits were EASILY the most important part of the day for me, because we had waited so long, and worked so hard for this moment. Our photog, Katie, was incredible, and made a point to visit the venue months ahead of the wedding to tell me what she saw for pictures. We had a bit of a kerfuffle getting an officiant, and I'm glad we did, because James ended up being the perfect choice for our special day.

I was blessed enough to have my Mama and sister do the flowers and cake for our day, so there wasn't any stress there, since they know me so well. My only stress with that part was making sure they knew how much I appreciated their efforts.

So, the day before the wedding came, and Mama, Gordon (stepdad), and I met at the venue to do a walk through of the venue, and make sure we had a good plan for setup the next day. Our wedding was a small affair, just family and close friends, so there wasn't a big event to prepare for, and seeing it all in person calmed me a lot. Again, the venue staff was so accommodating, and patient with all of my questions.

The prep on the wedding day is a bit of a blur, because it was so crazy. But I have this weird trait, as a SUPER anxious person, to go into calm mode when things are hectic (especially in a party setting, maybe it's the hostess in me?). So I just adjusted with the little curves the day threw at me. I simplified my makeup, was fine that the cake was melting in the heat, didn't care that I forgot some of the decorations in the car, etc. All that mattered to me was that Steve and I were getting our day, finally.

We started with a first look. I love the whole "first look is the walk down the aisle" concept, but since the portraits were so important to me, this gave us a chance to knock most of those out pre-wedding.

Then we came to the ceremony. As my readers know, my Daddy passed away in 2014. So, I knew I needed to have my Mama walk me down the aisle. She means just as much to me as he did. I have been so blessed with the parents (David, Jan, and Gordon) that God has given me, and having them all there, even with one in spirit, meant so much to me. We walked down to Haley Reinhart's version of Can't Help Falling in Love with You, as a nod to my Daddy. He was known to call and sing Happy Birthday to his friends/family as Elvis, so that was my way of including him in the moment.

We had an unplugged ceremony, and I think our guests felt restricted from that, so we have hardly any pictures from the reception (I'd hoped we'd have selfies galore). But the day was PERFECT, and we have amazing memories to last a lifetime. We could not have asked for a better day, and both still comment on the day when we look at the pictures. I mean...

PERFECTION.

If you're looking in the ATL area for wedding vendors:

Photography: Katie Coon Photography

Venue: Lanier Islands

Officiant: James Hamp

Hair: Laura Austin

Something's Gotta Give.

I know better than to proclaim my "health goals" out loud, because that's an instant jinx. My health goals are going to take a LOT of mental work for me to reach (3 years of in-your-face stress has broken me). The physical part is easy, once you break the mental.

That being said, as a very small step, I am going to attempt to start cooking every meal for myself again. I find it's very hard to cook for one. I've cooked for two most of my adult life (and, God-willing, that'll be true again soon). So when I have tried to cook just-for-me over the years, I end up with leftovers, that usually go bad in the fridge because I don't want the same thing again, or I forget about them.

As a result, I've resorted to a lot of simple dishes, or heat-and-eat. And, of course, eating out. I've also noticed when I DO try to cook, I feel like I have to follow a recipe a lot of times. And I have forgotten many of the things I used to cook on a regular basis. My "chef" instinct has faded tremendously. It's still there, don't get me wrong. I can still follow said recipe, but not have to break out the measuring spoons/cups for tsp, 1/2 cup, etc. (any chef worth her salt can eyeball those things). But that natural ability to see ingredients in the fridge, and put a meal together has left me for the most part.

Most of my life, I've been one of those people that knew while I may not always be happy about the weight I was at, I would never be obese, because I'd reach that "frustration level" somewhere around size 8-10-12, and hit the gym hard, to never let it progress to an uncontrollable state. And up until about 2010, that theory held true. I'd usually hit 8, get fed up, get down to a 6- and maintain that for a respectable amount of time.

Something changed after that. I've spoken about my anxiety before, and I don't want to use it as a cop-out for laziness, because there has been a lot of that, but I think it has been the driving force. From 2012, forward, I have gone through a divorce (essentially, though not a legal marriage), moving, beginning the immigration process, my father's death, my step-grandmother's death, my cat's death, changing paths on the immigration process and starting anew, a couple of friends' deaths, family moving in with me, adopting a new cat, my step-grandfather's death, family moving out, and my paternal grandmother's death. Some of which was traumatizing, some just life-changing, but all at least came with a bit of warning/preparation time. Then we capped it off with losing my sweet puppy (of almost-11 years) VERY unexpectedly. Which I still can't fully process. It's like I haven't really had time to "settle" my anxiety in 6 years before the next thing happens. And my health has suffered.

So tonight, I am taking a VERY small step toward the old me, and cooked an improvised/healthy dish. Baked shrimp egg rolls. Nothing but olive oil, shrimp, garlic, spinach, broccoli slaw, and lite soy sauce. Didn't even use the egg for the sealing/basting. So, maybe it's just a roll.

Regardless, I'm making an effort: 

      

Mean Jean

It still doesn't feel real. I've shed a lot of tears over the past couple of weeks. We've been to her house twice to collect/clean out memories. But somehow, my brain is just not really registering that the last of my immediate family on Daddy's side is gone.

When I think of my childhood, I think of two things. Home (Atlanta), and East Tennessee. Mostly Rockwood. From the point I almost drowned at the lake house, to the piano lessons, to the Honeybee Tree game... SO much of my childhood memories are connected to my Nana. "Mean Jean" as she was referred to by our whole family. Which, if you knew her, was the silliest nickname. Given she didn't have a mean bone in her body. Smart aleck? Spunky? Funny? ABSOLUTELY (this runs in the Smith blood). Mean? Not even a little bit. I cannot think of one time in my childhood that Nana even scolded me. I'm sure they're probably there... I just don't remember them.

It's funny how you remember the stupid little things you'll miss when you lose somebody. I used to love to play in the flour canister when I was little. I loved how soft the flour felt between my fingers. I think I even had a little song/rhyme that went with it, but I certainly can't remember it. There might be family members that do. I also loved Nana's tea pitcher. It had this mixer built into the lid that you pumped to mix/stir the drink inside. Think like a TNT detonator. That's how I treated it, as I pumped it every time she made tea. Even in adulthood.

I'll never get to taste that tea again, or pump the mixer handle.

We went this past weekend to sort through as much as we could. Decades worth of memories/clutter is overwhelming. You want to take everything. It meant something to her, therefore it means something to us. But obviously, keeping everything isn't an option. So you have to somehow think realistically. 

I'm lucky that I just had to go through this with my own stuff 3+ years ago when I moved out of my apartment and in with Daddy, planning for my move to Canada (ONE DAY, AMIRITE?!). So I was able to shut off the Katie "BUT IT MEANS SOMETHING" brain, and only take the few little things that I knew I would treasure. Plus one big thing. Nana's house (not Nana herself; the house visits) to me was always about the piano. Even when I got older and didn't sit down to play it. I would plunk out a quick Hot Cross Buns or Chop Sticks, just to reconnect to my youth. It's now in Daddy's house, and will eventually be in mine & Steve's home. I plan on reteaching myself to play the basics, then progressing from there and actually doing what I should have done in my youth, and becoming a piano player - not just a piano plunker. 

This might be the view I'll miss the most. Oooh, baby baby! Buh-buh-buh-baby!

Most of the cousins know this view the best. It's just missing the lower branches to help you climb up to the top.

I remember when the branches of this tree were so low I would try and hide inside of them during hide and seek. 

Mama's tree

I didn't have the pic of me & Liz as kids in front of this tree handy for this then-and-now photo-op. But once I find it, I'll be sure and add it. 30 years later...

    

Shoes, Glorious Shoes! 37

It's been a while. A full year since I posted a shoe blog, and almost 8 months since I posted ANYTHING. A lot has happened. Namely, two surgeries for kidney stones that took about a month 1/2 of my life. Life in general, then a couple of crazy work months. And here we are.

The last couple of weeks have been the hardest hit on my anxiety I have ever had in my life. Not my emotions - that was (still is) easily my father's death. But my anxiety. I am going through something I have only shared with a small handful of people, and it is completely consuming me right now.

The thing is, I have learned over the years to be a high-functioning anxiety-ridden person. Anxiety makes people uncomfortable, awkward, annoyed, etc. It's easier to hide it than it is deal with the consequences of the real world (ESPECIALLY in a professional environment). I'm great at smiling/laughing/joking when inside I'm screaming. It's something I've - in a very obtuse way - written about before. I DO consider myself to be an emotionally strong person. The more I've thought about that over the years, it's because of that wall I've learned to put up. So when "normal" emotional situations present themselves, I can deal. When anxiety situations present themselves, I go into that same "strong" mode, but my brain NEVER shuts up. Ever. I can do 8 million things to try and silence it. Usually at home, I'll have a TV show playing on the computer while I play a computer game. Right now, I have a TV show playing while I write this - and yes occasionally am having to pause the show so I can clearly think through a thought. All the while, my brain is saying "What about...?" "Did you think about this...?" "What if...?" And if there is silence around me? Forget about it. I'll likely end up making myself throw up from the stress.

People that don't have everyday anxiety don't get this, and never will. Everyone understands anxiety. Everyone can have anxious situations. But for it to be all-consuming, where it can make you physically ill... not many people in your day-to-day will get that. They'll tell you to think about other things, or find a way to distract yourself. Which as you can see in my above paragraph, I certainly try to do. On "small" anxiety days, it sometimes works. In times like these - it barely touches my thoughts.

SO...

That heavy intro aside (I promised y'all I was going to be more real going forward - this is me being real) - I decided to distract myself today by dressing the way the-artist-formerly-known-as-Katie would. Heels, matching outfit, and purse. I had a new dress to wear, and perfectly matching Betsey heels and purse. 

And about halfway through the day decided to blog the shoes, as I would have back in the day. So, here they are!

Brand: Betsey Johnson Name: Kissez

Store: Smile.Amazon.com

(I specifically direct you to Smile Amazon, because YOU CAN MAKE A DIFFERENCE)

Review: 4" heel. Fits 1/2 size small. As you all know by now, a 4" heel is nothing to me, so these would be UBER comfortable, except the heel part of the shoe is SUPER tight, so rubs a blister on the side of my foot if I don't remember to stretch it out a couple times during the day.

This dress** is so simple, but I love it SO much. It's very Parisian, to me. In fact, it makes me think of the last two episodes of Sex and the City, when Carrie first gets to Paris:

As much as I hated how cheesy they ended the show (even though I loved the actual end result), I was (AM) obsessed with those last two episodes, because EVERY. SINGLE. OUTFIT. was perfection. That was most of my (and plenty of other women's) obsession with the show, was the fashion. Then the hilariously brilliant writing was a bonus. But OMG, those last two episodes. They could not have been any more perfect, fashion-wise. And I'm sure they went all out, given they knew they would never have to worry about budget again (until the movies came around). PER.FECT.ION. 

**Sidenote: that one picture of my dress took me sitting in the grass to set up my camera on my tripod/adjust angles/self-timers, etc. for maybe 2 minutes: and resulted in an hour+ long allergy attack. The joys of being allergic to outside, y'all.

Anyhoo, I know this blog has been all over the place. But that's just where I am right now, so I'm sharing it. See y'all... I dunno when. Maybe tomorrow, maybe in another year. 

      

COULD I LOVE HER MORE?!

Seriously. Those that know me (on multiple levels) know my love of "Jenny Ani" (on multiple levels). Jennifer Aniston is just... siiiiiiiiiiiigh. Love her. She's ridiculously talented. If you've never ventured outside of her Friends/romantic comedies days - give it a shot. I recommend Cake and Good Girl. Derailed is also a big step outside of what you know of her. If you're in to indie-type flicks - I recommend "She's Funny That Way" and "Life of Crime". Two movies I bought having never seen them, and was pleasantly surprised with them. ESPECIALLY Life of Crime. I had heard a lot of bad on it. I actually thought it was pretty darn good. I get it, though. The previews played it like it was supposed to be this super funny movie. It wasn't funny. It has a couple of cute moments, but if anything I'd grant it a dark comedy/crime status. Anyhoo... I'm rambling. She's talented, despite what "cliche Hollywood" gives her credit for - don't forget, she's a producer and director, too. In addition to that, she's funny as hell, brutally honest, drop dead gorgeous, and then we have this:

You can read through the whole article (and I encourage you to - PLEASE READ), but here are a few key points. Let's dive in:

"The objectification and scrutiny we put women through is absurd and disgusting." A.MEN. I'll get into more as we reach deeper in this article/my blog, but perfect example: I had a wicked bruise on my arm the past few weeks. Cannot tell you how many "What man is beating up on you?"-type comments I got. Like OMG, there's no way you could have a bruise without it meaning you're a disobedient woman to your man. Shame on you. PUNCH.

"The message that girls are not pretty unless they're incredibly thin, that they're not worthy of our attention unless they look like a supermodel or an actress on the cover of a magazine is something we're all willing to buy into. This conditioning is something girls then carry into womanhood." YUP. As someone who was verbally belittled constantly in junior high/high school, there is never a day I truly believe when I'm told I look pretty that day. I see it as "You improved over that horrible look from the other day." And I am fully aware that's not how the people saying it mean it. So I've learned to smile and accept the compliment, all the while not believing a word they say.

"This past month in particular has illuminated for me how much we define a woman's value based on her marital and maternal status." Now, while this one obviously has direct meaning to what she's going through, the overall message still spoke to me. Any given day for me: "Why aren't you and Steve married yet?" "Are you getting married? When?" "Do y'all plan to have babies soon?" "Wait, you don't want kids?! WHY???" "Oh, you'll change your mind about kids once you're married." "It just shocks me you don't want kids, are you sure?" PEOPLE: I, as a woman, am not on this earth solely to be a wife and/or mother. I am a person that can make choices. These choices are mine, and you don't have to make the same ones, or even agree with the ones I make. I don't judge anyone that has kids. I don't look at them every day and ask them "Wait... you have kids?! WHY???" Just because I am not dying to pop out children for my husband does not make me a bad person. **Additional note here: I actually DO have kids. They just all have 4 legs instead of 2. Meaning they're animals - don't call the Guinness World Record people to come to my house looking for several 4-legged humans.

"I resent being made to feel 'less than' because my body is changing and/or I had a burger for lunch and was photographed from a weird angle and therefore deemed one of two things: 'pregnant' or 'fat'. Not to mention the painful awkwardness that comes with being congratulated by friends, coworkers and strangers alike on one's fictional pregnancy..." *waves hands in the air in praise* PREACH! Let me tell you, dear blog readers: I have had a rough couple of years emotionally. Losing my father, which I have been fairly open about here; having to put down my cat down 4 months later; of course, being a long distance every day from my love; plus the every day ups and downs that life throws at you. I've put on a fair amount of weight in the last year 1/2. I'm aware of that. Having people remind me is not necessary. Now, you know how you hear about those people that ask about a lady being pregnant, then are horrified to find out she's not, so they've basically just called her fat? This is something that no woman should ever have to deal with. Ever. To encounter it once in your lifetime is too many. So let me tell you how many times it's happened to me. Actually, I'd have to think about it to give you the real total, but just out the gate I thought of 5 people. And I am an outspoken person. But I swear every single time it happens feels like the first time and I am just dumbfounded that a person could see that as an ok thing to say when I have given you ZERO indication that I am pregnant. Do I wish I had not gained this weight? Sure. But I realize life has its weight yo-yos and I'm just at the down (or up?) part right now. What I don't need is people reminding me of where I'm at. "Oh gosh you're fat." *brain corrects them* "Awww, you're pregnant!" Nope. Nope, you're just an awful human. Thanks for playing.

Thank you, Jennifer for putting a VERY public voice to this everyday problem. And thank you all for allowing me to bend your ear (or eyes) on my personal connection to it.

Finding a New Way To Be Me

This blog has become something else. A shade of it's former shoe self.

I need to find a new way to be me. It's a struggle. One that really no one but me knows about completely. I can count on (less than) one hand the people that know every place my brain has been in the last two years. And even then, I keep a lot to myself, so as not to burden anyone with my "sad story".

The problem is, my whole life - especially in adulthood, but even as I was young, I have always (admittedly, by my own fault) taken everyone else's problems on myself. Even when they didn't know I was. I would stay up nights, mentally exhausting myself on "How can I help them?" without ever breathing a word to them that I was thinking this, in hopes I could come up with a miracle cure for their issue. And would rarely - usually never - ask for help when I had a problem. I'd go out of my way to find a solution so no one had to be bothered with me. Or would just swallow the problem if it couldn't be resolved, and move on with my day. Super healthy, right?

I am incredibly blessed to be a strong willed/emotionally strong person. People have always told me this, but I never really saw what they meant before. I felt like every time I broke down crying to someone, I was being weak and/or making them "deal" with me when they already had so much going on in their lives to stress over. If I complained about not feeling well, I was just "whining". Seriously. My kidney stone ER visit years back? Other than me spinning a funny story about my adventures that day, and the Percocet loopiness in days to follow - I damn near live-tweeted the passing of the stone - no one knew what hell I went through during all of that. Other than the person I was living with that had to witness it so of course he knew, I fully confided in one person, because he knew what I was going through having lived it himself. My Daddy.

And that brings me to where I am now in life. While I am WELL AWARE I have ugly moments on social media (rage blackouts, as I call them), what people don't realize is they're a minuscule fraction of what has actually happened in my day/week/month. Like you hear about the people that bottle stuff up, then just explode? My rage blackouts are me exploding. That old way Katie did things was definitely not healthy. But I made it work. It was how I had always done things, and when a personal crisis hit, I went into "Save Everyone Else From my Shit" mode.

Times are different.

Too much has happened in the last two years (mainly bad, but some good as well) to change my mental/emotional state, that I have to find a new way to be me. I don't want to change who I am. I want to continue to do everything I can to help family, friends, and co-workers. Mentally, emotionally, financially - whatever I am able to do at the time. But I have to find a way to do this without sacrificing myself. This, without a doubt, is something I have to learn to do myself. It's no one's fault I've not done it in the past. While people may have asked me for help (many didn't), no one EVER asked me to hurt myself/put myself in a bad place in the process. I just have to find my new way. 

So This Is Life

So, yesterday was a year. A year that he left us, and heaven gained one of its best angels. For weeks, maybe even months, I prepared myself to be an emotional wreck that day. And yet, when it came, the tears didn't fall. I asked his friends/our family to share happy memories on Facebook so we could all smile and remember everything he meant to us. So I found myself checking Facebook all day to see if anything new had been posted to his timeline. The rest of the day I kept myself busy with things I knew wouldn't have sadness that might trigger a breakdown. So when the day ended and I'd made it through with only a few times of tears welling up, I thought "Huh. Maybe I am actually coming to terms with this."

Then this morning came.

I spent most of my getting-ready-for-work routine crying. Cried most of the way to work. Managed to pull it together, then in speaking with a co-worker that recently lost her Mom, broke again. I suddenly realized that it was because I was coming to terms with the fact that: this is now life. In the last year, it's kind of been "new". You know, it's only been a couple/few months... it's fresh, so it doesn't seem real. We were still dealing with settling his estate, there were constant reminders around. Yesterday apparently cemented in my mind that he's gone. It's been a year, and I really do have to learn how to deal with life without my Daddy/my friend.

Everything still seems so clear. Like it was hours ago. And this could be why the nurse kept asking/telling people to get me to leave the room more often than I was (hardly at all) in those last days. To scar me less, maybe? But I wouldn't have done it any differently. Even when I left so his friends/family/church family could have their time with him, I was ready to be back in the room with him. Those last few days I barely let go of his hand. We had Pandora playing and sang to him. The times I was in the room alone with him, I would talk to him in between singing. I wanted him to know we were there. I had "conversations" with him, just because I knew how he would respond if he could. Or maybe I was making him "respond" how I wanted him to... which he'd tell you was probably more accurate. The one day I asked him if he could wake up so we could sing Love Shack on karaoke and his thumb squeezed against my hand would be a good example of this (he hated singing that song and made sure I knew it, but always did it for me - his squeeze was his sign of protest). But the main reason I couldn't leave: I wanted to be there for him like he's always been there for me. I couldn't heal him. I couldn't take his pain. But I could be there to support/comfort him, as he had done for me so many times over the years. 

The people that tell me "time heals" clearly must have years under their belt, or are a lot stronger than me. I miss coming home and him singing to Allie (while I walked in the door) "Who can it beeeeeeeeee now?" I miss watching The Walking Dead with him, and him making fun of me the next day for every time I freaked because they got a little TOO close to killing Daryl Dixon. I miss going and watching Eddie & Debbie sing at Neil's with him/our friends. More than anything, and something I don't see myself ever getting over, I miss singing with him. Whether it were karaoke, at church, random songs we'd burst into when something on TV/someone said would trigger a song in our heads. 

I used to always tease him for the "wrong" things he gave me. Crazy bad eyesight, big feet, bad knees, etc etc etc. And he'd tell me that he used to be sane, then Liz cracked the wall of sanity, and I came barreling through. To which I'd respond first "Whatever. I think I could get accounts from your family proving otherwise." and then telling him all of the "bad" was balanced out by the fact he gave me a lot of my personality. I'm loud, silly, and many times what some would see as crazy. He called me his dramatic child. Because I may or may not have had moments of drama over the years. *places hand over entire family's mouth* But what he saw as drama, I saw as an extension of him. Problem is, when you put that personality into a female... :-). So he gave me some of my personality, my writing passion (hence the reason I'm expressing my emotions tonight through words), and my love of singing. Then of course I got lucky enough to have Mama give me the love of everything else artistic. Drawing, painting, sewing, etc. Between the two of them, I have so much potential. One day... haha.

I feel like this a good point to come to a close. We're all smiling (or at least, I am) and I hope that will get easier and easier to do as time passes. I miss you, Daddy. Heaven's choir is the best it's ever been. I promise to keep singing. 

All my love, 

Tater