The last birthday of my 20's and some TMI (WARNING! GIRL STUFF WITHIN!)

[Most of this post was written last week, before my birthday. I've since edited it.]

It was my birthday on Sunday--the big 2-9. The last one I'll ever have before turning thirty. And for once, I didn't have an had only a minor anxiety attack over getting a year older. In fact, I handled this birthday a lot better than I've handled almost every other birthday in my twenties.Go figure!

As I sat down to write this post, I tried to figure out why I was so much less stressed about this June 19th. Is it because I'm finally at a place in my life where I feel comfortable with myself? Is it because I have such a rad boyfriend and awesome friends and supportive family and spent my birthday at the fair where games were played, competitions were won, fried food was eaten and babies were held? Yes. Yes to all of that.(Baby Scent might be my favorite smell in the world, by the way.)

But also (and this is the TMI part, you've been warned!) I think it has something to do with the fact that I recently stopped taking a certain mediation. A medication that is supposed to prevent a thing called BABIES. No, I'm not with child, and no I'm not "trying." (Despite that thing I said about Baby Scent. Mmm babies...) I stopped taking anti-baby pills because they were making me crazy. Literally. The following is a first-hand account of how birth control has messed with my head so badly that the thought of being back on it scares the shit out of me.

Last year I started seeing an awesome doctor who discussed many different birth control options with me. I decided to try one called Seasonique, the one that's supposed to allow Mother Nature to come a callin' only 4 times per year, because hey... who likes periods EVERY month? But in order to effectuate that process, the pills release an incredibly high dose of hormones into your system--a level I apparently could not handle. They made me absolutely crazy. And I don't just mean emotional, I mean irrational and out of control. I would get angry at friends who didn't tag me Facebook photos. I left stores because I couldn't handle interacting with people or because I got fed up with perky saleswomen following me around and asking if I needed help. I once found myself driving home from work, stopped at a stop sign, tears streaming down my face and pounding my fists against the steering wheel because a pedestrian was crossing the street and I had to wait. See? CRAZY!!

The night of that incident with the pedestrian, I left my doctor the first of two voicemails telling her that I was feeling unbelievably depressed and out of control and that I wanted off the pills NOW. I asked her to please write me a prescription for the birth control I'd taken in my early twenties, a low dose of the tried and true Ortho Tri Cyclen. I started taking Ortho the following month and everything went back to normal. The mood swings stopped, the anger faded, and I was me again. I still had pretty consistent changes in mood and got overly emotional and sensitive, but it was ten times better than the hell I'd gone through with Seasonique.

Fast forward to about a year later. Time to see my awesome doctor again for my yearly check-up. I'd gotten fed up with remembering to take the pill every day and wanted to try something I didn't have to worry about. I had heard rave reviews about the Nuva Ring from several friends and thought, hey. Why not? I'll try that. And so I did. My doctor gave me two free samples on the spot.

So I tried the ring and everything was going great. I was keeping a careful eye on my moods and sleeping habits, watching out for the wild mood swings and deep depression I'd had while on Seasonique. No symptoms like last time. I was doing great... at least I thought I was.

One day, about a 6 weeks after I'd started the Ring, I was in a pretty foul mood. It was the second or third day I'd felt this way, but I attributed it to PMS or just a bad week at work. Then my roommate asked me how the Ring was working out. Was I feeling ok? Was I experiencing the same symptoms as last time? Was it making me crazy? I started to answer that I was fine, that I wasn't feeling anything NEARLY as awful as I'd felt on Seasonique. But then I stopped and thought for a few minutes. Why was she asking me this question with such a concerned look on her face? Had I changed? I was feeling awfully depressed. I hadn't been in a very good mood for over a week. I was hungry ALL the time and gaining weight. I'd been going to bed at 9:30 most nights. Something was definitely not right.

After some internet research on the side effects of the Ring, I decided to stop using it. The depression, along with some other gross side effects I won't go into, outweighed the convenience factor for me. So I finished out the month and stopped taking birth control completely. I was so paranoid about what the hormones were doing to me that I didn't even want to go back on the Ortho.

That was in April. It's now almost July and I feel absolutely fantastic. Better, in fact, than I've felt in years. No hormones, no pills, and no crazy. I can't remember the last time I overreacted to a situation or felt too depressed to get out of bed. And I just moved in with my boyfriend! You'd think that if something was truly not right with my brain parts, moving in together would have triggered some sort of wild reaction. But nope! I've had one panic attack over a couch, and nothing since.*

*This last paragraph and everything before it was written last week. It was before I'd started taking a new birth control called Tri-Sprintec, a generic version of Ortho-Tri-Cyclen. I took the first pill on Sunday night and woke up the next morning and almost vomited. The nausea was so bad I actually skipped work. I spent most of the morning in bed feeling like I was going to die, while Rad Boyfriend hugged me and brought me water and looked at me with his big eyes and said, "I hate that the pill is doing this to you."

I hate it, too. I've only been on it for 4 days and I'm already starting to feel the side effects. Or at least I've got it in my head that I'm feeling side effects. Why else would I slam doors and cry for no reason? Why else is my first reaction to an invitation to an event sheer anxiety?

Here's another good question: Why did I start taking oral contraception again? If all I do all day is think about how much I resent being on it, if it makes me so damn miserable, why do I do it to myself?

Because I'm now living with my boyfriend and it's the responsible thing to do. That's all I got. It's the adult thing to take a pill to make sex more convenient despite the fact that it's killing me inside.

Does that make ANY sort of sense to you? 


It sure doesn't to me. Which is why I made a deal with myself this time. First, I'm waiting on a call back from my doctor to discuss a low-dose version of the stuff I'm on now. Secondly, despite the outcome of that phone call, I'm giving this jagged wretched little pill exactly one month. And at the end of that month, I'm going to sit down and take a good, hard look at Danielle and her behavior for the past 28 days.That will determine whether or not I continue on any kind of hormonal birth control. If I don't feel like "me," if I'm crying because I burnt dinner or because Ikea refuses to restock the pillow I want, I'm done. No one should have to deal with not being in control of their emotions as a side effect of birth control. No one should be depressed and anxious and feel uncomfortable all the time in exchange for a spontaneous sex life.There are other options. And maybe it's time for me to explore them more thoroughly than a WebMD page.

End TMI.

Here's a picture of a wiener dog to make you smile after this horribly depressing post:

Some irrational fears

You have some pretty strange ones too, right? I know I'm not the only one. Here goes:

• My fourth grade teacher once said that you should never sleep with your ankles crossed because you could lose circulation in your feet, which could lead to amputation. Seventeen years later, I never keep my ankles crossed for too long.
  
• I am deathly afraid of raw chicken. Whenever I cook with it, I wash every single utensil and cooking accoutrement the second I'm done using it, and the dishrags go right into the laundry.
  
• I never turn the fan on high because I'm afraid it'll spin too fast and fly off the ceiling.
  
• I let towels dry before putting them in the hamper because I'm afraid they'll get moldy if they sit in there too long.
• I try not to wear pointy-toed shoes two nights in a row because I'm afraid my toes will turn inward.
  
• I obsessively check things cooking in the oven to make sure they don't burn.
  
• I have never, not once, ever in my life done any drug other than the mary jane. I am so paranoid that I'll overdose and die that trying anything new just doesn't interest me.
  
• I avoid revolving doors as much as possible because I'm afraid of getting stuck in one.
  

And that about covers it... the ones I'm willing to admit, anyway. What about you? What are your weird/irrational/interesting fears?

I like talking about myself, who knew?

So Facebook has this thing going around. (No, it's not mono, but it's just as popular among high school kids.) It's a post in which you're supposed to write 25 random facts/goals/habits about yourself and then tag people in it so they in turn write 25 facts about themselves. A handsome Silver Fox from law school tagged me in his post, so I took the bait. And as a courtesy to all my fellow readers, I've decided to reprint those 25 things here. After all, it wouldn't be fair for all those almost-strangers on Facebook to know all that stuff about me while keeping it from you guys. AND! (Pretend I'm saying the rest in the voice of Billy Mays.) Just for all you extra-special blog readers, I've added FIVE MORE RANDOM FACTS ABOUT MYSELF! That's right, if you read now, you'll find out FIVE MORE THINGS that people on Facebook don't know about me!

Can you imagine if we all talked about ourselves like Billy Mays talks about OxyClean? ::Shudder::

(1) Law school was the biggest mistake of my life.

(2) I don't think I want children, even though everyone says I'd be a great mother.

(3) I have a very passionate, very expensive obsession with traveling. And I refuse to settle down with anyone who doesn't share the same passion.

(4) I talk to myself ALL THE TIME.

(5) If I could have any career in the world, it would be flipping houses.

(6) An ex boyfriend committed 5 intentional torts against me the day I broke up with him.

(7) I started collecting turtles from places I visited after I randomly got a tattoo of a turtle.

(8) A lot of my interesting life experiences come from summers in The Motherland. It's where I learned how to drive stick, what to do with a deer if you hit one with your car, how to bribe a local official, the difference between good pizza and FANTASTIC pizza, how to drive a boat, how to drink a Tequila Boom, and how to root for your country at an international soccer championship.

(9) I have never done karaoke, and there isn't a bribe on this Earth that would get me to do it.

(10) A month in Germany turned me into a beer snob.

(11) I dance to Spanish music in my kitchen when I bake.

(12) Conservative republicans make me see red faster than any other group of people.

(13) My dad lived in Saudi Arabia for 12 years and I regret never going to visit him, even if it was dangerous.

(14) I have no problem with public nudity, when appropriate.

(15) Until Barack Obama won the presidency, I felt more pride for being Motherlandian than I did for being American.

(16) I will one day live in California, but will most definitely miss the change of seasons.

(17) If I have kids, I will send them to Catholic school.

(18) I hate modern art and can't stand musicals.

(19) I almost joined the NYPD after college.

(20) Visiting a concentration camp changed me in ways I can't describe. I don't think anyone can experience their full range of human emotions until they've visited one.

(21) I can't STAND not having my eyebrows done, so much so that I have anxiety over it when I travel.

(22) The women in my family have this weird semi-psychic ability to predict things, and I totally believe in it.

(23) I regret transferring from Boston University.

(24) I don't wear my contacts that often because I think my glasses make me look more interesting.

(25) I've had the same best friends since I was 10 years old and I wouldn't trade them for anything.

*(26) We didn't get cable in my house until I was a teenager, so I grew up watching a lot of nature shows on PBS. As a result, I can identify an inordinate amount of birds and animals.

*(27) The first guy I ever kissed turned out to be gay.

*(28) I once drunkenly danced on a table to Weezer's Sweater Song while actually taking off my sweater.

*(29) One of the most priceless moments of my life was listening to someone call the U.N. a "useless organization" while sitting as a guest in a U.N. ambassador's home.

*(30) I have a fun knack for losing/destroying cell phones. Two of my Verizon flip phones met their demise in the state of California, one fell into a pedicure tub, one literally broke in half, and I almost lost my iPhone 5 days after I got it. And you people want to trust me with a baby? Are you out of your minds?!

So what 25 random facts about yourself do you want to immortalize on the Interwebs? Do share.

Trying something new on for size

I was looking through all of my photos a few weeks ago and noticed something interesting: I have a lot of pictures of shoes. This isn't surprising, considering my borderline-psychotic obsession with footwear. When I first noticed all the pictures of shoes I had, I was like, "I have to post these." But how? My inner editor was all, "You can't just post 30 pictures of shoes. You need an angle. What's your angle?" I answered, "Approximately 45 degrees." An Irish-style brouhaha ensued when my inner editor accused me of being cute. "Cute?" I retorted. "You know what's cute? These Kenneth Cole boots in your ass!" "Why don't you take a picture of it?" my inner editor mocked.

Aha! An angle! And thus the idea was born. What if I went through some pictures, cropped out everything but the bottom part, and let the shoes tell the story! Surely that would be entertaining! BRILLIANT!

The best way to tour Venice is a Gondola ride on the Grand Canal. The worst way to tour Venice is hungover in 95 degree heat.

To avoid falling on slippery cobblestones when walking through a city founded in 1279, one should (a) not wear flip-flops, (b) not be drunk, or (c) pee before leaving the restaurant.


True or false: those pink water shoes cost me $4 at a store in the city where my mother was born.
FALSE! It was the city where my father was born.


What's going on this picture? Am I (a) kissing a dude wearing a fanny pack, (b) trying make a dude in a fanny pack stop squeezing my head, or (c) getting suited up to take a ride on a motorcycle?


My favorite purchase from the Motherland.


Choose the correct answer: In this picture, (a) the girl on the right has one hand up in a crossing guard STOP-like motion, (b) the guy on the left looks like he knows he's about to get on a boat full of Germans who know every song ever made, EVER, (c) the dude on the right is about to moon me, or (d) all of the above.


True or false: I wear these in public.
Absolutely true.


Babies dancing! (Those killer black heels on the left are mine.)


My male cousin is wearing a sarong because (a) he's gay, (b) he loves making his friends laugh, (c) he's doing something that ultimately ends in an imitation of the Statue of Liberty. (The correct answer is (c).)


Which train am I waiting for? (a) The G line in Queens, (b) the Red line in Boston, or (c) the S-Bahn in Berlin.


I chill with pigs.


And Spanish frogs named Señor.


Ah, the Dutch. They've given us so much.


The weekend after I took the bar, I went a little crazy and agreed to go upstate with my dad, aunt, and grandma. The weekend after I took the bar, I apparently had no regard for my personal appearance.


Another shot from that fateful weekend. I was clearly a train wreck.


My favorite pair of shoes. Have I redeemed myself?


Pop quiz: are these guys (a) stomping out a fire, (b) doing the hokey pokey or (c) using a Coke bottle as a guitar and making up their own dance?


Volcanic rock=black sand=feet that look dirty but really aren't. Costa Rica.


The night before this picture was taken I slept outside on a cliff overlooking the ocean. Sounds romantic, right? WRONG! No tent, no shelter, no bug spray, just me and a blanket. And the mosquitoes. And the wild boars.


We got smart the following year. Yay for tents and pillows!


After the Berlin Wall came down, there was this line of rock and rubble that separated East and West Berlin. Rather than pave over it, cobblestones were laid in certain parts of the city where the wall used to be. This photo is the real reason I wanted to do a post about how shoes can tell a story.

Now please excuse me while I try and figure out which of these shoes I still have, and which I must replace with a trip to DSW. I wasn't kidding when I said I was obsessed.