A few weeks ago, I got an email asking me to participate in a celebration. I waited, as usual, to the very last second to do my part, and didn’t realize until this morning on my way to school that today was the day.

You see, a year ago today, my internet friend Maggie created Violence Unsilenced. She created a website that was devoted to giving victims of violence of all kinds, a voice. She gave us a place to come together, to tell our stories, to get support.

Prior to Violence Unsilenced, I had never told my story to anyone. I had not told my mother. I had not told my husband. I had not told my closest friends.

I had no voice. I had the fears. I had the memories.

But I had no voice.

To say thank you to Maggie seems so insufficient. It seems so tiny compared to what she has given me. Maggie and the supporters and commenters at Violence Unsilenced gave me a safe space to share my secret. They gave me advice, they gave me a little bit of myself back.

101 of us have told our stories, have spoken out, have unsilenced ourselves to the violence we experienced. 101 of us have been given a chance to raise awareness to the sad reality that many men and women face.

And while the words thank you are no where near as profound as I wish they were, they’re really all I have. Thank you Maggie, for creating this place for us. Thank you to the other 100 people who have participated and to the thousands of comments that have supported us in this journey, in this moment of triumph.

I spoke out. Have you?

I have to be honest with you, I’m sort of stuck tonight. There are things I want to say, to write, to tell you. But I’m feeling stifled. I’m feeling closed off on my own blog.

It all started with a blog comment that I got earlier today. A part of me wants to believe that the person who left the comment was well intended. But then I read it and realize that, no. It’s not. It was intended to be unkind. And that bullshit baffles me. Who does that?

And as much as I want to let it go and walk away, there are things that need to be said. Because if people really believe what was said in that comment, there is much to clarify.

First, (and honestly, this is what bothers me the most), I have to address the insinuation that I think my pain is worse than everyone else’s. At no point have I ever said or, for what it’s worth, thought, that my pain is worse than anyone else’s. One of the things I struggle with the most is people in my life feeling guilty about complaining about their pain because of mine. I cannot stand when others feel like their pain isn’t real or isn’t serious because they compare it this headache. Because it is.

Pain is pain. I have nothing but sympathy and empathy for anyone in pain, whether it’s short or long term, whether it’s neurological or musculoskeletal. Pain, as a rule, blows. Mine is not special, it’s not unique and I hope that you realize that I know that.

Next, I guess I haven’t done a good job of explaining the way my life works. You see, I’ve had a headache everyday for 6 months. Sometimes the pain still surprises me, but I have learned to cope with a lot of it. It is still crappy and hard to deal with, but to say that I shouldn’t travel because of it, or go on vacations because I’m in pain is insane.

And yes, the past few weeks have been a clusterfuck of health issues. And if you think that they were not considered when I decided to go to New Orleans this weekend, you are mistaken. I wouldn’t be going if my doctors or my husband (who incidentally, IS a doctor) or I thought it was unsafe. I whine a lot, but I’m not stupid.

I realize that I have spent a lot of time discussing school lately, because it is a great stress in my life, just as it was last semester. And if you’ll recall, with a great deal of effort (AND with a trip to New Orleans in there too…), I passed all my classes. In fact, I did better than a very significant portion of my classmates. Not because I’m anything special, but because I worked hard. Just like I am now. Just like I will for the next 2.5 years.

I appreciate the concern, but I am not in danger of being kicked out of my program. And dude, I absolutely know that I’m in over my head. That’s pretty much the story of my life. But anyway, yes, my school makes a lot of accommodations for me, but I’m also in a graduate program for health professionals. It’s a graduate program taught exclusively by people who work with patients with disease and disability. I’m not a traditional student, but so far, I’m still a successful one.

And knowing how much I have ahead of me, knowing that I have a lot to catch up on, I’ve already informed my husband and my friends who I’m staying with that a great deal of this weekend will be spent indoors, studying. I very much want to pass all of my classes, and if I thought that this weekend away would prevent that from happening, I wouldn’t be going. It goes back to that whole not stupid thing.

If you really think that I’m making mistakes or that I need to consider something, there is a time, a place and a manner. Leaving snarky comments where you mock my pain doesn’t fit any of those. Same thing with twitter accounts that are used solely to mock someone for living their life and sharing bits of it with others.

The vast majority of people who stop here and leave comments or send emails are encouraging, supportive and helpful. And so it’s especially unfortunate that the echos of those who are not tend to reverberate the loudest. Perhaps eventually I’ll learn to drown out the ugly, but for now, I just wish that we could all grow up and treat each other well.

And until then, I guess there will be more days like today. More ugliness and more explaining. More days where I wonder if it’s even worth it to continue writing. When I consider walking away for good.

So, I’m home sick and I have nothing to write about except the fact that I was up until 4 in the morning with a fever and a stomach ache and that my day has mainly consisted of seeing what foods I can convince myself to eat without wanting to ralph and seeing if there’s any position I can lie or sit in that doesn’t make my head feel like it’s going to explode (hint: there’s not). Fun times. Let me tell you.

Instead of going on and on about how today’s headache is one of the worst on record, I’m going to pimp myself out a little and ask for your support and stuff.

First, I’m a finalist in the Aiming Low Recipe contest! Click the button below (or on the right side bar) and vote for your favorite 4 recipes! (p.s. I’m Katie, and mine is the Pumpkin Cake). This pumpkin cake is ridiculous kinds of delicious and also? literally could not be easier. 3 ingredients and one is optional (but not really, unless you’re the kind of person who doesn’t frost cakes…heathen). If you can use a spoon and preheat an oven, you can make this wonderful cake.

There are some other great looking recipes there and more importantly, the amazing women at Aiming Low are taking all the recipe submissions and making a cookbook, the proceeds of which will go to Anissa’s family to help pay for her medical costs. If that isn’t a fantastic cause, I just don’t know what is.

Second, for those going to the BlogHer Conference in August or who care about it, I submitted a request for an added session on health blogging. They weren’t able to work it into the regular conference schedule this year (since they did it the last 2 years), but speaking from the experience of having been there last year, it’s needed and amazing. I walked out of that panel feeling like my writing had a purpose, feeling like I had a place in the world of blogs.

Now, even though there’s no health or patient blogging panel on the schedule, BlogHer does a cool thing were they let attendees suggest panels that aren’t already arranged and others vote on whether they would attend. If you get enough people indicating they will attend, the panel will happen (more or less).

If you’re interested in the panel, go here, click on the Health Blogger link (at the bottom) and then on the link that says “I would attend this panel.” You have to have a BlogHer account to do it (I think…), but if you’re not already registered with them, you should be. I cannot say enough about BlogHer and the great coalition of women there, the amazing conferences they host, and the good they focus on doing at that site.

I know that pimping one’s own stuff is not the best blog etiquette, but the health blogger panel is near and dear to my heart. I would love more than anything to be able to make that happen for myself and for the others of you reading who write about your health and your fight to keep it. If it can be anything like the panel last summer, it will be incredible.

And now I’m going back to my dark cave of ice pack, drugs and self-pity.

I’ve had this blog for almost 3 years now, it is my therapy, my home base, my place of comfort and self-expression. When I say that I don’t think I would’ve survived the last 5 months without it, I’m not exaggerating.

But today is no ordinary day on the internet. Today is Delurking Day.

(See, there’s a picture and everything)

Today is the day where, even if you aren’t a normal commenter or a regular reader, you leave a comment and you let me (and other bloggers) know that you’re reading. It’s just a nice reminder that there are people out there from all over who have found their way here, who care enough to take the time out of their day to read my whinefest blog.

It’s a little reminder that I’m not alone.

And before I ask you to unmask yourself and leave a comment I figured that perhaps it was my turn to delurk a little, maybe I owe you that. Since I’m not a teacher any longer, the threat of showing my face is pretty diminished. And because I really want you to delurk, I’m going to make an ass of myself. You’re welcome.

My name is Katie. Kathryn actually.

This is me in 1990 (second from the left in the back row)

Skip ahead to 2001. Mind the perm…

Skip again to 2005, the year of college graduation and many different colored casts…

2007…

2008 (this is the only year of pictures I really feel okay showing you. It helps when other people fix my hair and makeup)

2009…

And finally, 2010. (This one is lovingly stolen from Megan’s flickr page)

So. Now you’ve seen me, I have delurked. You’ve seen the worst of my hair phases and you’ve seen the prettiest I’ll ever look in my life. In return, all I ask is that you leave a comment. Tell me your name or tell me how you ended up here. Or just say hi. Whatever you want. If you leave your blog url, I will visit (not today or tomorrow, because of that silly little lumbar puncture thing) and leave a comment because I can’t very well ask you to comment if I’m not willing to myself.

Now go delurk, and then try really hard to get the image of my 2001 perm out of your mind. To be honest that picture might self destruct or suddenly delete itself in about 60 seconds.

I’ve spent some time this week reading other peoples’ year end posts wandering what the hell to write about this year.

I have a real love-hate relationship with 2009. It has been, undoubtedly, one of the most tremendously difficult years of my life, but from that struggle, it has also become one of the most rewarding. I feel like I’ve grown as an adult, a wife, and a woman in so many ways, but also, in that growth, I left behind parts of me I never intended to.

If I had to describe this year in one word, there is no question that it would be bittersweet. It just seems like all the good has been coated and surrounded in bad, ugliness. It seems that all the things I want to remember have faded to the memory of those things I would rather forget.

In January, my very last cousin was born. He is the most gorgeous, precious boy and the light and love he has brought to our family has been immeasurable.

I cannot believe that this (ginormous) infant
<

has become this beautiful toddler.

In February of 2009, I ended up in an emergency room with a CT scan that said I had a tumor. A small one, but in a bad place. A tumor that my neurologist said is either something totally benign or something we’ll notice problems from later. So so comforting.

In March, my husband matched in a residency. His dreams and his hard work paid off right before our eyes. And as he promised my mom 3 years before, he got us home to California. And because of that, I was able to accept admission to the best graduate program in the country.

In April we found our new home. (In December we found out that part of it is going to become a dorm for the college nearby. Don’t even get me started).

In May I finished teaching. I finally managed to leave that noble career that drove me bat-shit crazy. My husband graduated from medical school and became a real doctor. And shortly thereafter we packed our entire house to leave New Orleans. 2009 will always be remembered as the year I left New Orleans for California, a move I thought I desperately wanted. But it’s also the year I realized how much I’d miss that rough-and-tumble city. How much it had become a part of me.

In June, I got a new kitten. A new kitten who has subsequently ripped up every single corner of carpet in our new apartment, bitten holes in the vertical blinds and spilled pomegranate juice on the carpet. He also cuddles and is adorable.

In June we also celebrated our first anniversary and thankfully stopped having the arguments every single damn day that plagued our first year of wedded bliss. It’s like someone switched a light switch on our marriage. I am truly happier with Slappy now than I have ever been.

In July I went to a conference with 10 trillion women, felt totally overwhelmed, yet also so welcome by so many wonderful people. I may or may not have taken part in a super secret pizza party in which I met a group of women (and Mike) that I still count among my friends.

It might seem ridiculous, but BlogHer was one of the highlights of my year. I felt like me there, I felt like I was among people who “get” the internet. I listened to a panel all about health blogging and realized that though sometimes I feel alone in this, I’m not. I was inspired, challenged, and I laughed until I damn near cried. And also helped Megan cross something off her bucket list. And you know, meeting Valerie Jarrett and listening to other women who weren’t stunned into silence talk with her about healthcare didn’t suck either.

August birthed this headache. The one that has carried through to December at the very least, and plagues my every waking moment. August was also the month I began graduate school and took up full time whine blogging. You’re all welcome for that.

September, October and November are a blur. A big suck filled blur. They involved a new neurologist, a horrible lumbar puncture, a spinal headache, 2 weeks on my back on my couch before a blood patch, a cisternogram which revealed nothing and a lot of tears. The only good thing I can even begin to say about those months are that they are done, they are in the past. And I know that’s terrible because some great things happened those months, but my mind was so burdened with pain and worry that it’s all I can remember.

December has been a roller coaster ride. I passed all my classes in graduate school, which still amazes me. Especially considering that this month I also lost the ability to sleep through a night. December is the month where my neurologist finally reached the end of her ability to help me and the month where I found a new doctor who is going to try.

It is easy for me to say that I want this year to end. Because, truly I do. I desperately I want a fresh start after the beating I’ve taken this year.

But as much as I want to start anew I also realize that after the clock strikes midnight tonight, the world is not going to magically change. There is no slate that is actually going to be wiped clean as I keep imagining it in my mind. The clock hitting a new number won’t change my life, it won’t change my health, it’s just a new day, like every other. And like each new day, I hope tomorrow brings something different, something less painful. Something like what I used to have.

I hope that 2010 brings days without pain, days without fear, days without sadness. But I also hope that the lessons I’ve learned and the obstacles I’ve traversed in 2009 will give me the tools and the grace to handle this new year and it’s inevitable new challenges.

On Christmas day, I was bullied.

I was bullied to the point that I left Christmas dinner in tears. To make matters worse, it was by my own family member (ironically not the one I wrote about here). To say that it hurt would be an understatement. Someone I’m related to told me, to my face and in front of my whole family, that they’re tired of me. That he’s tired of hearing about my issues.

But that wasn’t enough for him. When I tried to have a calm, quiet conversation with him, he yelled in my face. He embarrassed the hell out of me, made my mom cry and as much as I hate to admit it, ruined my Christmas. I’ll never forget the way it felt to be yelled at like that. By someone who is supposed to love me.

And then the internet decided to join the party.

My twitter stream is public. I don’t have it locked down because I don’t think I should have to. If people don’t like what I have to say, they have no reason to read or follow. In fact, if you don’t like what I have to say, I absolutely ENCOURAGE you not to read or follow.

So I was surprised when I saw that someone I don’t follow and who doesn’t follow me retweeted something I’d written.

And even more surprised when I looked at his twitter stream and saw the next tweet…

I’ve seen those tweets several times and I still just don’t even know how to respond to that. Someone who doesn’t know me, who isn’t following me on twitter, took the time to read my twitter stream and make fun of me (to be fair, after reading his twitter stream, I am not the first person he has done this to. If you look up douchebag in the dictionary, I’m about 99% sure his twitter stream would be the definition). Try as I might, I still cannot comprehend this.

It’s like we’re in junior high, except you know what? We’re not. We’re adults. And it is absolutely not okay to bully people.

Sadly, that’s not where it ends.

When I saw this, I knew the person was trying to get a rise out of me. And I tried not to let it bother me. But it did, it still does.

I knew that it was about time for one of these comments (historically these trolls show up somewhat cyclically), I just wish I was more able to handle it. I have always been the kind of person who takes things personally, even when they’re not personal. And when they are personal? They really get to me.

And I’m sure that admitting that only fuels the flames of the tremendous asshole who’s writing these things, but I don’t care. This is my blog and that is my twitter stream. I shouldn’t have to feel like I’m being judged by people for what’s going on in my life. I would challenge anyone to walk a mile in my shoes and judge me. I would challenge anyone to go 20+ weeks in pain and not whine.

I don’t know how I came to this point in my life where people think it’s okay to push me around, to mock me for who I am, for the things that are going on in my life. But let me make it clear, it’s not fucking okay. It will never be okay to treat people this way.

I hope that someday my family member and this person on twitter grow up and realize what they’re doing. I hope that they realize that this isn’t a game. I hope they realize that words have power and consequences.

And that those consequences might be greater than they realize.

It came out on twitter the other day that perhaps I have a slight movie seeing deficit. (Also? A complete lack of filter and or thinking before typing. But that’s not really new).

So here’s the thing. I wasn’t allowed to see PG-13 rated movies until I was 13. I wasn’t allowed to see R rated movies until I was 17. And yes, I’m now 26 and yes technically I can see whatever I want. But well, I’m lazy. And I’m not a huge fan of old movies (I don’t know why, I have no real reason), so I haven’t seen pretty much any movie that came out in theaters before like 1998.

I know, I know.

And so I’m working on a list, with the help of Mike, of things I need to see. And since I have almost 3 weeks of vacation left, I might actually watch some of them. The list is growing by the moment, and I’m looking for more recommendations.

Here’s the list as of 6pm today:
1. Jaws
2. Jurassic Park
3. Raiders of the Lost Ark
4. Annie Hall
5. When Harry Met Sally
6. Princess Bride

And now, it’s your turn. What do I need to add to the list? For those interested (ahem, Jen) I’ll post an updated version after Christmas.

And for shits and giggles, let’s make it a contest. Leave your movie recommendations by 12:01 (Pacific time) Christmas morning. On Christmas day I’ll use a random number chooser thing and the winner will win a DVD pack including my personal (non-old favorites) The Hangover, He’s Just Not That Into You and Up. Each comment counts as an entry, and I’ll count one entry per day.

Do it for me. And for 3 really good DVDs.

(For the record, ain’t nobody sponsoring this. I don’t get the WTF FTW FTC guidelines, but I’m buying these movies myself and shipping them to you of my own desire and money sources. The former of which is far greater than the latter.)

This has not been the internet’s finest week. There have been horrible tragedies and people using them for their own personal gain and fame. There has been bickering and all kinds of ugly. It has just been a lousy week.

If you haven’t seen any of what I’m referring, count your blessings and don’t go looking.

But today, the internet did something great. Something incredible.

If you are one of those people who doesn’t get blogging (ahem, Slappy), or doesn’t get the power of the internet, I challenge you watch this and not believe in what we do here. And not believe that blogging can have a truly incredible impact.

Love for Anissa! from Undomestic Diva on Vimeo.

This is the product of hard work by Megan, and the generosity and thoughts of SO many people. This video is what this community is all about.

This video is why I am proud to be a part of this community. I hope you are too.

(And if you don’t know what this video is all about, see here)

I’m going to be honest with you, as I lie flat on my back on my living room couch, in unfair amounts of pain, I’m having trouble being thankful.

It’s not that I don’t have much to be grateful for, because that’s not true. Even I’m not that self-involved. I am so blessed in so many areas of my life and for that I am endlessly thankful. I just feel like I’m only able to see these good things because of the myriad of bad. And I hate that. I want to be thankful for things, not in spite of others.

But I am thankful anyway.

I am thankful for my friends and most of my family. Because I’ve gotten to witness, even today, how crappy some people can be. And without the other good people in my life, I would not be able to get up in the morning.

I am thankful for my husband. Because he is the only thing keeping me from quitting everything in my life. Because he is the only sure thing I have right now.

I am thankful for my medical care. Because even with thousand dollar medical bills sitting on the table, and sore backs and spinal headaches from lumbar punctures, I know that without the doctors I have, I’d be nowhere (which, I know is actually NOT ANY DIFFERENT from here, but at least we’ve sort of ruled some things out now, right? RIGHT?) Because I know that others can’t get the medical care I can and they suffer for it.

I am thankful for the roof above my home, the couch under my back, the heat from my vents and the food I’ve over indulged in. Because I know others are without a home and the luxuries within it.

I am thankful for the internet. Because without you, I would be fighting so many battles alone, if I would even be fighting them at all. Because without many of you, I don’t know how if I could’ve come as far and survived as much as I have.

I don’t feel the way I have some past years. I don’t want to fall to my knees in thanksgiving for this year. I don’t feel like weeping with the gratitude over the things I have in my life or the great things that have happened. But I am clinging to the good for dear life. And I am trying to be thankful for the fact that in the midst of all the badness I can still find these blessings.

That in the midst of the darkest time in my life, I can still see that there are things worth living for.

Happy Thanksgiving.

So, apparently twitter was up in arms about something today. I don’t know. I was cramming for my anatomy exam. If cramming is the right word for trying to absorb 70 pages in 3 hours for a test that isn’t until next week. I’m not really sure. I don’t really care.

But when I was on the train and had given up trying to write notecards at my seat without a table, I jumped onto twitter and caught a few tweets that intrigued me. I had heard some of the same sentiment at BlogHer, so I can’t quite figure this out.

People, women, are up in arms about being called “mommy bloggers.” I mean, some are seriously upset. And I’m not judging them, they’re entitled to be upset. But I don’t understand. Like, at all.

Is being a mommy blogger something to avoid? Is it a derogative?

I sort of feel like anyone who blogs about their children is, for lack of a better word, a mommy blogger. I read TONS of these blogs (when I have the chance, which is never, so basically that sentence is not true), but I don’t value those that aren’t about children more or less than (those I consider to be) mommy blogs. I value good writing, insight or humor. I don’t care if you have 100 kids or no kids at all.

It’s pretty obvious that people who write about their children, moms and dads alike, tend to associate more than they do with those who don’t have kids (obviously not universally, but still). I know that I often feel like I’m on the outside of a lot of blogging adventures because I don’t have children. I think this is a normal association, but why then, is there such a movement to fight the parenting label? What about that is so wrong?

I don’t have much of a niche or genre, I don’t think. I suppose I mostly fall into the realm of health. Unless bitching and whining is a category, in which case, I deserve a freaking award.

Isn’t blogging about parenting just another category? Or is the idea of categorizing blogs the problem? Have I completely missed the point?

I’m not trying to be antagonist, I just don’t get it.

Help me understand- when did mommy-blogging become a 4 letter word? And why is it so offensive to be called that?