Tag Archives: Erma Bombeck

by

Goodbye 2012, My Head Hurts

I hope I don't fall on my head... again.

I hope I don’t fall on my head… again.

My goal for 2013 is to look back at the year and think my God, that was a great year.

Because at the end of 2011 and 2012 I’ve just wanted to cry when thinking about how hard they’ve been – or should I say – how challenging.

I’ve been pushed to my breaking point so many times I’ve lost track. I’ve been up, then too up, then down, then kicked, got back up, got pushed down again, then kicked again and so on and so forth.

January

Down: I went to Reno/Tahoe for my mom’s 70th birthday. The baby slept no longer than 2 hours the entire trip and we had to leave early because Reno was on fire. I was absolutely out of my mind from the sleep deprivation.

Up: I advocated for my own mental health for the first time.

Up: Baby started sleeping through the night after doing sleep training.

 

February

Down: I had wrist surgery and went into a black depression.

March

Down: On my way back home from a visit with my wrist surgeon, I was rear-ended. My back and neck were injured.

Down: My in-laws treated us to our favorite spa for a much-needed vacation. I came down with bronchitis the first day of the trip and was sick for over a month.

Down: My 6-month old son had facial surgery. He faired well, it was just so scary to have my 6-month old baby go under, especially when still getting over postpartum issues.

April

 

Up: I went to the Erma Bombeck Writers’ Workshop in Dayton, Ohio. It was my first writer’s conference, courtesy of my amazing husband. It was nothing short of magical.

Down: My dear friend Liz killed herself.

Up: BeePea.com was born!

Up: My first WebMD post went live.

May

Down: Depressed on my first Mother’s Day, I asked myself if I was “Mom Enough.”

Up: “Bipolar Motherhood…” was the most popular post I’ve had to date.

Up, down & all around: After 8-months of being a stay-at-home mom, I went back to work part-time and put the baby in full-time daycare.

June

Up: Husband and I celebrated our 9th anniversary.

Up, down & all around: I worked and worked and worked.

July

Up, down & all around: I worked and drove and worked and drove and stressed and worked some more. From daycare in Reseda, to clients in Canoga Park, Pasadena and Silver Lake, I drove as much as I worked.

August

Up: I celebrated 14 years of sobriety.

Up: I went to BlogHer in New York with one of my favorite girlfriends.

Up, down & all around: My favorite client went solo which created a lot more work for me. Another client stiffed me for over a month of work.

Down: I was on suicide watch for one of my closest friends which spun me out beyond.

Up, down & all around: We ended the month with a 10-day trip to visit family in 2 different states to celebrate my son’s first birthday. Baby got croup, but we also had some really fun days.

September

Up: I went to my first yoga retreat and had my chakras aligned through sound for the first time. I was stable for 3 weeks after that retreat – the longest I’d been stable since pregnancy. This was the first real hope I experienced in 2012.

Up: All my other clients went away and I was able to focus on my favorite client and drive waaaaay less.

Up: I was on Parental Discretion with Stefanie Wilder-Taylor. 

October

Up: I started a standup comedy class.

Down: I sunk into another really bad depression.

November

Up: I blogged every single day!

Down: I hit a depression that felt just like the one I was in when I went to the psych ward.

Up: I got really, really mad.

Down: I quit the standup comedy class because I was too unstable.

Up: I decided to live my life and treat my bipolar disorder on the natch (soon this will link to an awesome page explaining what that means). I started exercising daily.

Down: I got sick again and couldn’t exercise.

Up: So I started learning about food!

December

And here we are. It’s been up and down as usual. I’ve been living my new plan for about 6 weeks and have been physically well enough to keep up with the exercise half of that time. Out for 3 weeks with the first cold/flu and now out about 5 days with the latest sinus infection.

I’m officially off Wellbutrin and still on 3 psychiatric medications.

. . .

I’m looking forward to 2013… with some trepidation  After the past 2 years of ups and downs, it’s hard to face a new year without a sense of fear. I used to believe that the good news about the bad times was that it couldn’t get much worse, but now I know there are no guarantees.

And I need to be realistic about considering an upcoming year withdrawing from several psych meds – I can’t imagine it’s going to be all puppies and rainbows, but at least I’ll be braced if I’m sideswiped.

. . .

I have a good life. Yes, I’ve had 2 challenging years, but there’s meaning behind them. I have a life full of purpose. I’m living my dream in many ways – I’m writing on a regular basis and you’re actually reading! AND I get to be of service to others with my writing – what could be better?

. . .

I’m here. Right now, I’m here. Right now, I’m struggling with fatigue, illness and depression, but I’m here. I’ve made a commitment to wellbeing and a commitment to not kill myself, no matter what happens.

Right now, I’m fighting. And I will keep on fighting to be well so I can be the mother my son deserves.

Happy New Year, sweet readers, I love you, thank you and I hope you all have awesome 2013′s!

 

by

How I Bought Myself Some Perspective & Halted a Major Meltdown

Some call it a “Bucket List;” Karen Walrond calls hers a “Life List.” I call mine “Ideals.” I update them at the beginning of each year and enthusiastically cross out the ideals I’ve accomplished, remove the ones I no longer care about and carry over the ones to the next year that I haven’t accomplished yet.

At the end of this year, I get to cross out “attend a writer’s retreat,” an ideal that was on my list since its inception, 6-years ago.

Last April, I had the great fortune of attending the Erma Bombeck Writer’s Workshop in Dayton, Ohio. It was a dream come true. I took several amazing workshops, but my favorites were by Karen Walrond, Anna Lefler and Jim Higley because they inspired me to no end. They made me feel like it was possible; that my dream of becoming a working writer could actually become a reality, not just an idea the negative voices in my head regularly shoot down as delusions of grandeur.

My feet didn’t even touch the ground that entire weekend. I was floating on a pink cloud of creative energy. Sweet honey optimism dripped from my locks. I was ready to take over the world with my words.

And then I got the call that I needed to leave a day early because things weren’t going well at home.

Nine hours and two layovers later, I returned to LA to a filthy house, a frazzled husband and a screaming baby. A sure fire way to make my baby cry is – well – me. They tell me this means he loves me. He’ll be perfectly happy, see me, and burst into flames.

Then there are the dogs. Machu Picchu and Malife. When the baby cries, the both try to crawl up my butt. I swear. So the baby screams and suddenly eight paws are under me, which would be fine if I didn’t need to actually do things like walk.

And our townhouse has 3-stories which means I don’t just walk around with a huge baby in my arms and two dogs under my feet, but I do all of this while going up and down lots and lots of steps.

Funny, I thought I took decades of dance classes for very different reasons…

It only took about 3 seconds for my horrible Mommy mantra to slip back in.

I hate my life, I hate my life, I hate my life.

Just before I locked myself in the bathroom and booked a one-way ticket to Fiji from my iPhone, a tool I learned yesterday popped into my already overwhelmed, over-it brain.

Karen Walrond would take a photo walk.

I put the husband to bed, got the red-faced baby in his stroller and harnessed up the dogs.

Approximately 14-hours later, I managed to actually get out of the house. OK, perhaps I’m exaggerating – it may have only been 13-hours later.

Scowl on my face, I pushed and pulled my small family around my transitional neighborhood.

Without further adieu, I present to you, my photo walk, complete with internal dialogue:

Seriously, dumb and dumber, could you try not to kill me? I should’ve never taken you on my photo walk. You ruin everything. <insert my taking them to the pound fantasy complete with them begging me for a second chance as I laugh walking away…>

I can’t believe I live a block from a Pizza Hut/Wing Street. I mean, Pizza Hut would be bad enough, but Wing Street? Nothing short of tragic. And why did I strong arm the husband to buy at the top of the market? This neighborhood was supposed to transition into something better and we were supposed to be in our awesome forever house with a backyard by now. If I had a backyard, I wouldn’t even have to take the dogs on walks and the baby would never ever cry because he’d have nature right there instead of a concrete poo area backyard.

Ohio was so pretty. <sigh>

Courtney, stop it. Take pictures of pretty stuff. Get out of the negative death spiral of doom.

Aren’t these little yellow flowers in front of Pizza Hut / Wing Street pretty? Even in the concrete jungle, nature pops out all over the place, like it’s saying, “Look over here! Life is beautiful! Put down the Pop Tart and eat some broccoli!”

Amazing what happens when I pay attention to the beauty around me. When I block out the mad-made and focus on the Universe-made.

Photo walks are so cool.

…AAAAAAHHHHH! Stucco hell! Yes, this is my neighborhood. Sad part is that these are the second nicest buildings on the block. We should move to Ohio. We could get a house for two bucks. I wouldn’t even have to work – I could just write all day long…

Focus on the beauty. Focus on the beauty.

Well hello Calla Lilly! You’re so pretty and smooth… Awww. Ahhh… 

Thanks for being my wedding flower all those years ago. How amazing is it that I’m married? And to someone I really like? I’m so lucky.

We are all blades of grass. We all have our purpose. We may not know what it is and we may not ever know what it is, but it doesn’t matter because our actions are the same. We all grow toward the light.

Really? Who leaves a Starbucks cup right there? Is the world your dumping ground?

Good potty, Malife. Good potty.

Wow. How cool is this? Nature enveloping an ugly A/C unit. Nature, you’re so awesome.

Wait… I haven’t heard a peep from… OMG, he’s asleep! Thank you dear sweet Jesus!

He looks so sad in that helmet. It’s digging into his eye.

Bring it back. Bring it back. Wow, he’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen. <tear>

I can’t believe I’m a mom – I’ve defied so many odds in my life. What a blessing.

Am I walking freely? I am! Thanks dogs for finally walking without making me look like an S&M ad.

Look at those cute paws.

OMG Machu needs her toenails cut, but Daddy’s too busy and I can’t do it and we don’t have enough money to pay someone to do it – I hate my life, I hate my l…

BREATHE. Take a look around, dumb ass. Pay attention.

Machu, I love you so much my heart hurts when I look at you. I’m so grateful for your unconditional love.

You’re not allowed to die ever.

Really head? Sheesh. Machu is alive now. All we have is today. Today she’s healthy and happy.

And Malife? I love all that extra skin under your neck. I like to pull on it (in a nonviolent way, of course). You’re the snuggliest doggie ever – all you want is love.

You’re an angel in my life. I’m sorry I yelled at you. I love you.

Hey, you know what? My life is pretty awesome. I’m so lucky to have a baby and doggies and husband to love. I can’t even remember the last time I was lonely. 

And there it was – the shift. The half-full. The bright day, the good life and the gratitude for it all.

A moment of grace in a crazy world.

I’ve been imbalanced for almost a year-and-a-half now and it’s so easy for me to get sucked into the dis-ease in my head. To get lost in the stress of my world. To get lost in the negative. But the good news is that I no longer have bad days, only bad moments and opportunities to change my perspective.

During the 2002 Australian Open, tennis pro Yevgeny Kafelnikov complained that male players weren’t making enough money. Andre Agassi’s response was that Kafelnikov “should take his prize money (sic) and go buy some perspective.”

. . .

What are you grateful for? Join me at the BeePea Hive on Facebook and share your gratitude, thoughts, ideas, inspiration – or just say “hi!” xoxo, Court


by

Bees, Sinead and the Universe

My first WebMD post about Sinead O’Connor’s recent decision to cancel her upcoming tour was WebMD’s idea, not mine. But like everything else in my life these days, the Universe was most definitely calling the shots.

This site is the direct product of an open-mind, a lot of meditation and the Erma Bombeck Writer’s Workshop in Ohio.

I was at an artistic crossroads. I’ve always wanted to be a working writer. I was putting a lot of energy into a site that was going nowhere fast, while writing about living with bipolar for a few sites on the side just to be of service. Every time I wrote one of those bipolar blogs, I got tons of positive feedback. I was really helping others. My honesty was resonating with readers.

Doors started to open in an area I didn’t expect. I mean, those bipolar blogs weren’t intended for personal gain, they were simply written from a place of love and service.

And they weren’t even funny. And I’m funny. I’m very, very funny.

My other blog was tight, hilarious and irreverent, but it went no further than my friends LOLing on Facebook, which was sweet, but LOL’s and five bucks may get me a cup of coffee, but certainly won’t pay the gas bill.

Ends up, I wasn’t being true to myself. I was hiding behind humor and shock value, which anyone who knows me will attest to the fact that I love to make jaws drop and bellies laugh. And there’s nothing wrong with that, but after a lot of quiet searching, this site started to blossom in the corners of my mind.

Write about your life. Your REAL life underneath the humor. About being bipolar. About surviving, thriving and blooming. You can help people with your experience and maybe even reach some of your own personal goals while you’re at it.

The little voice inside of me got louder. My “ah-ha” moment was in Anna Lefler’s session when I actually wrote “sh*t” in my workshop journal. The “sh*t” was a surrender. It really meant “I know what I need to do and I fear I’ve just wasted 2 years of my life writing the wrong material.”

Fine. I’ll do it. But I need an awesome name.

I’m a name queen. I come up with a title first and then the content. Good titles rule.

You call yourself beepee all the time – no brainer.

Only one problem, the URL was taken.

How about beepeeper? You like that one, too. Has a good ring to it.

It was decided. I came up with a long and complicated analogy about being a beekeeper for the bees in my mind. I was on a role. It would be nothing short of brilliant.

And it was for sale!

For $600.

Hmph.

It was an overcast day when I drove to the South Bay with all these ideas swimming around in my bipolar mind. I was on my way to have my 8-month-old son’s helmet painted by the amazing Paula Lazardo. We started talking about my site and she totally freaked out – ends up a very close family member of hers is bipolar.

And she was super excited about the site.

I knew then that she would paint my logo. I didn’t even know I was going to have a logo until our conversation.

After a few pages of journaling and scribbling, the name BeePea popped onto the page. I visualized a little bee holding a pea. How cute! How simple!

It’s too good – it must be taken already.

I checked and the URL was not only available, it was only $18.

I bought it STAT and a day later, I was sifting through several amazing sketches Paula sent me of the BeePea. I chose this one:

Hi! I’m a little BeePea!

The next day, I was asked to write about Sinead O’Connor.

I did, then posted a link to the article on my Twitter page, like normal.

Then I got this picture and tweet from a total stranger:

Hi! I’m a little bee!

“Sinead’s rasta bee w microphone tattoo she got on both feet to remind her to sing into mic & breathe. She almost always performs barefoot! since u seem to like bees thought you’d appreciate this :) “

Coincidence? I think not! That, right there, my friends is a case of cosmic bees.

Oh and another thing, I have several tattoos. And they are all on my feet.

I was a freshman in high school when Sinead’s first album, “The Lion and the Cobra,” was released. My best friend and I rewound and belted “Troy” over and over again. Little did I know that 20+ years later we’d share a mental disorder.

And little did I know how the lyrics I was attempting to sing along with would truly end up being prophetic.

“I have learned / I will rise / and you’ll see me return / being what I am.”

I think those words may be my next tattoo.