Category: People I know

Part 2: Stevens-Johnson Syndrome, the Beginning

by CrazyUsFamily / Health / People I know / Stevens Johnson Syndrome19 Comments on Part 2: Stevens-Johnson Syndrome, the Beginning
Beth & Kyle October 5, 2010

Simultaneously numb and completely in shock. That is how I have been and continue to be. Slowly I am coming back. We are all coming back. On February 6, 2011 I wrote the following:

Seeing Kyle’s fingernails and toenails peel off layer by layer until they reach the underlying skin from the nail bed up is what knocked some life back into me. The realization that something so seemingly minor, something we did not even notice until today, eight weeks after Kyle was first admitted to the hospital, woke me up. The weight is heavy. His fingernails look so gross and so painful. When I first looked at them I thought they were bloody because he had been picking the scabs out of his damaged nose. I was wrong. These ten fingernails and ten toenails were destroyed and slipped by unnoticed, unnoticed until now.

Before this all happened, if I were simply dealing with Kyle’s freakishly peeling fingernails, I would have completely lost my mind. Now peeling in such a horrific way, I didn’t even notice.

I wonder how long? You can tell they have been peeling for some time. Every single day I care for Kyle. Every single day I look in his mouth, examine his eyes, touch his puffy face and ask him how he is doing. Every single day I give him a litany of medication, medication that are administered around the clock, during the night, during the day, when I want to sleep, when Dave wants to sleep, we can’t. We are making sure our boy is ok. These bloodied and peeling fingernails woke me up, yet right now they are so insignificant. Somehow looking at these bloodied nails, a switch flipped. I can no longer ignore my emotions. I can no longer deny my broken heart. I can no longer say,

“It could have been worse.” It just keeps on coming.

The physical, emotional and psychological pain I have watched Kyle endure this past year as a result of Stevens-Johnson Syndrome is pain I could not have imagined. The utter despair Dave and I felt as we watched all the doctors try to figure out what was going on was so frustrating that initially I quietly unplugged my emotions. I had to. I had to get us through each day. I had to be there for my family. Kyle was breaking right before our eyes and we were all completely terrified. Kyle’s agony kept me silent. I kept my tears quiet. I kept my despair out of his hospital room. When others broke down, I asked them to stop.

“You are scaring him. And he does not need to be scared.”

The week before I took Kyle into the pediatrician he was home with a cold.

Kyle October 2010

On Tuesday, October 19, 2010, Kyle came home from school and said he was not feeling well. He sat on the couch and almost immediately fell asleep. Eli’s Parent Teacher Conference was at 4:00. Dave came home from work to attend the conference too. The three of us left while Kyle remained asleep on the couch. When we returned an hour later, Kyle was still asleep. Kyle never takes naps. He felt warm and sounded like he was getting Croup. Because he has a long history with Croup and the Croup getting really bad really fast, I decided I should take him into a doctor. Usually I would take him to his regular Salt Lake City Pediatrician, but because it was almost 6PM, the SLC Pediatrician’s office was closed and I did not want to end up in the ER. Kyle did not need to suffer. I called the local Pediatrician. Even though he was a new patient, she was happy to see Kyle.

By the time we arrived at the doctor’s office, Kyle was much worse. His fever was 102, he could not catch his breath, he was so pale and was totally freaked out. His throat hurt. His voice was hoarse and he sounded like a very sad baby seal.

The doctor thought he had Croup too. She tried to give Kyle a breathing treatment, which after a few seconds he refused. Then she gave him Oral Steroids and 600 MG of Ibuprofen. She prescribed two different types of inhalers and sent us on our way. I took him home. Then Dave drove over to the Pharmacy to fill Kyle’s prescriptions. Once Dave was home, we gave Kyle his medicine and put him to bed. During the night we closely monitored him. Kyle did our usual Croup-at-home remedy, which consisted of taking a long hot shower and then standing outside in the cold. Kyle still felt lousy the next morning and stayed home from school. By the afternoon he was feeling much better. By Friday, when my mom was with him, he seemed even better, yet his intense cough lingered.

By Sunday Night, October 24, Kyle began complaining about how his eyes felt like they had sandpaper in them. Then after his shower the next morning he complained about how his eyes had been glued together. Because he had already washed them outI did see his glue-y eyes. My motherly logic dictated that he was probably getting Pink Eye. Again, because I had not seen Kyle’s eyes glued shut, I wasn’t quite sure and even considered allergies. Sure, his eyes were red, but I thought he would be fine. Additionally, Kyle hates missing school. Because he had already been sick so, instead of keeping him home, I washed out his eyes and sent him on his way.

That same day, Eli was gone on a play-date.  At 3:05 PM I arrived at after-school-pick-up to get Kyle. The very first words out of his mouth, and while he was fervently pointing at his eyes, were,

“Mom, my eyes really hurt! They sting! I cannot stand it! They burn!”

I felt guilty for sending him to school and could tell things were much worse. I immediately asked if he wanted to go to the doctor half expecting him to say no. Emphatically he answered,

“Yes!”

Because we had seen the Park City Pediatricians for Kyle’s initial Croup diagnosis, I called them again and scheduled another appointment. When we arrived, the office staff said the doctor was forty minutes behind. Because we live so close, I told them we would go home and then come back. In those short forty minutes and on our way back to the Doctor’s office, Kyle suddenly freaked out and blurted,

“Mom, I think I burnt my tongue from my hot cocoa! I can hardly open my mouth.”

Because we were going back to the doctor I asked if I could have the doctor look at his tongue too. “Yes! Yes! Please! It hurts. I don’t think I can open my mouth.”

By the time we arrived back to our appointment, Kyle could barely handle the eye pain. Oozy green stuff was dripping continuously from his eyes and down his face. He looked like he had pink eye on steroids. His face and lips were beginning to swell. The doctor took his temperature and it was normal. She said she thought he was suffering from a really bad sinus infection, a sinus infection that had moved from his eyes to his tear ducts. Huh? Honestly, even then, I did not think she really had any idea what was going on. She took a big guess and threw some antibiotics at the situation. I am told that usually big guesses work. Then she looked at his tongue and said it was not ripped. What she did see were  three big sores underneath Kyle’s tongue. She attributed them to the sinus infection. She prescribed 2,000 MG of Augmentin twice daily and we were on our way.

Kyle

Kyle stayed home the next day. However, because my neighbor had planned a wonderful pumpkin carving party and because Kyle seemed better after resting all day, we let him go. Kyle, Eli and I went to the neighbors while Dave, who was also getting sick and who was leaving early the next morning for a business trip, slept. As the night progressed Kyle’s eyes and face became even more swollen. His lips looked as if a bad Plastic Surgeon over-injected him with Collagen. The other mothers, who I do not know well, noticed Kyle’s face, talked amongst themselves, worked each other into a frenzy and then mentioned things like Cellulitis, the dangers of terrible eye infections and of course, death. I was completely spooked! The women continued to insist that I rush Kyle to the ER. Regardless of what was really going on, somewhere deep inside of me I had a feeling that something very serious was wrong. I just did not know what.

Kyle’s Pumpkin October 2011

My neighbor graciously offered to keep Eli and because I knew Dave was not feeling well and also leaving for a business trip the next morning, I accepted. I took Kyle home. Instead of racing to the Emergency Room, I paged the pediatrician and then called my friend, who is also my doctor. After talking to my them, after weighing the history of the situation and listening to how Kyle’s cough sounded, they both encouraged me to take him to the Emergency Room at Primary Children’s Medical Center. The Pediatrician told me to prepare and pace myself in case they keep Kyle over night. She thought they would put him in the Quick Treatment Care Facility and give him IV Antibiotics to push the infection out of his system. I packed a bag for Kyle and gathered his favorite Blanky Car (Blanket) and Bully (stuffed animal). We were on our way driving down Parley’s Canyon in the very first big snowstorm of the season.

TO BE CONTINUED.

Part 1: Seriously? Where do I begin? Stevens-Johnson Syndrome I shake my Fists at You!

Gunnel Starting our Sandwich Generation

by CrazyUsFamily / People I know / Travel14 Comments on Gunnel Starting our Sandwich Generation

(I know I said I would continue our Stevens-Johnson Syndrome Story. I have a lot already written and ready to post. It will have to wait until tomorrow).

Gunnel and Makeda August 2004

October 30, 2006.

Dave, the boys and I were in our hotel room at the Beaverton, Oregon Springhill Suites. The day before we had driven from Park City, Utah to Portland to spend Halloween with Dave’s brother, sister and their families. I will never forget what Eli said as we entered downtown Portland at the end of our long drive: “Hey Mom, I have an idea! Next time let’s take an airplane.”

My lovely sister-in-law, Dori, her husband Miah and their new baby Andrew had just stopped by to have breakfast with us. Mayhem is an understatement to what has happening in our tiny hotel room. After being trapped in the car the day before and now trapped in a tiny hotel room, the boys were ready  to break free. Kyle was six years old and Eli was four at the time, and before they and their young cousin completely fell apart, we decided we should go swimming, which really meant everyone would go swimming but me. I was looking forward to the peace.

The television was on. I could hear SpongeBob conversing with Patrick in the background as I located the swimsuits.  I was in the bathroom when I heard the ringing. I loked at the caller ID and saw that it was my super fly bestie, Marianne. I answered and our call went something like this:

“Beth, I am at my mom’s. I went over to check on her after she didn’t show up for dialysis. A police woman met me at the door. She would not let me in before she checked and made sure everything was ok.”

Because Marianne was so calm and matter of fact it seemed as though it had been a few hours instead of a few minutes since Marianne had found her mom. So I asked “Marianne, are you serious? She is dead? What happened?”

“Probably a heart attack.” Later they found that Gunnel’s heart simply stopped working, from one beat to the next, her heart was done. “Beth, she is in the other room. I don’t like it. She is on the floor and they won’t let me move her until the coroner gets here. I want to cover her. It does not seem right.”

It took me several “Whats?” and, “Are you serious?” to process that my dear Marianne was seconds away from finding her dead mother. It was confusing and surreal. I wanted to reach myself through the phone and be there with her. I wanted to fix it.

“Oh Marianne. I am coming. We are in Portland, but I will be there. I am coming. Don’t worry. I will be there.”

I remember hanging up the phone and seeing my sister-in-law, Dori’s eyes.  I could see that she knew something was up.

“Beth, what happened?”

“Gunnel died. They think she had a heart attack. Dave. Dave. We have to go.”

In shock I quickly explained to Dori who Gunnel was, probably giving more details than necessary. I told her how she was Marianne’s mom and that I had known Marianne since I was five, that Marianne was more of a sister, that I had just seen Gunnel two years earlier at the birth of Marianne’s daughter, Makeda, that Marianne was in the process of a divorce and how sad it was that Gunnel died now. Even though Gunnel had been in poor health, her death was completely unexpected. She had actually been doing better.

Then, as I seem to do when things get really bad or really sad, in a breath, I threw myself on autopilot. On autopilot, I can deal. I can tell you every little detail and even tell you how sad I am and somehow I will not shed a tear. Not because I do not want to shed a tear. I am a mother and I have children to care for. I must get us to the funeral.

We stayed in Portland through Halloween and then drove ourselves back to Park City. We were on a plane to Minneapolis six hours later. The Minneapolis Airport is a hop away from the Mall of America and as we headed to the viewing, with nothing to wear, I had Dave stop. I stood in the Mall of America Banana Republic trying on black skirts and having the sales lady tell me the shirt I chose was too tight.  In the dressing room, alone, I had I moment to let down. The sales lady pounding on my dressing room door, I say, “I am buying clothes for a funeral.”  She didn’t seem to care. I said it again. “I am buying clothes for a funeral. My best friend’s mother just died! I have nothing to wear.” I still don’t think she understood and I really wanted her to understand. We had to be at the viewing so without the sympathy I was longing for, I opted for the larger size, bought a skirt and another outfit and we were on our way. In our rental van, I put my new clothes on. Dave had already changed and we would ready the boys once we arrived.

It was a beautiful fall day and the sun really was shining just so. Perfectly the rays hit the autumn leaves as we pulled into the funeral home. As sad as I was for my friend, a gentle warmth and excitement came over me. I was home. Immediately I saw Marianne’s brothers and knew I was where I needed to be. Like a birth or a wedding, a funeral is a place to connect. I was home and I was connecting. I found Marianne and stayed close by her side. She has always protected me and even in the midst of all of this, she was making sure I was ok.

Marianne, Beth & Sara

We eventually made our way into the viewing room. It always amazes me that the body sits alone in a big chapel-like room while all the guests find their ways into the small passages of the funeral home. It was the same when Dave’s father passed last year. Marianne and I had Gunnel to ourselves. I brought the boys in with me at first. They were not sure what to do and left. Marianne and I stood there. We stood there talking about sweet Gunnel. We imitated Gunnel and Marianne’s Dad, Jack, who had passed years earlier. “Gun it Gunnel.” Jack would say as he slammed his hand on the dash whenever she was driving too slow. Gunnel had bravely moved from Sweden to the United States as a young woman. We talked about how cool and awesome that was. We talked about her cooking. She was always cooking and making so much good Swedish food. We remembered her huge, belly-rolling laughter. We talked about how she never said an unkind word about anyone, even when we wanted her to. We talked about the time before her eye surgery how she had sat so quietly at Marianne’s wedding. She was freezing and needed her sweater. Because it was dark and Gunnel could not see well, she patiently waited for someone to notice. I was glad it was me. I was glad I had noticed and had that moment with her. We laughed about how easily everyone in their family cries. Marianne told me how much she already missed her mom.

“Beth, I talked to her every single day. I do not know what I will do.”

Then I noticed. I noticed what I had been doing. The entire time we were talking I was moving my hand through Gunnel’s beautifully set, soft silver hair.

“She looks so pretty.” I said. “I hope this is ok,” referring to me touching her hair.

“Oh Beth. You know it is. It is my mom.”

Since that time I have watched Marianne long for and  miss her mom. I have seen those lonely moments and wished I could bring Gunnel back. Gunnel is not here to watch Marianne’s babies grow.  And now, somewhere in the middle of my life,  I see that I am part of the Sandwich Generation. We are raising our children while caring for and then watching our own parents die. Gunnel was the first. And since then I have seen more parents become ill and have seen more of our own babies be born. Dave’s dad passed away a year ago. And just last night another dear friend’s father died. It is such a strange place to be, right in the middle of this sandwich.

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Part 1: Seriously? Where do I begin? Stevens-Johnson Syndrome…

by CrazyUsFamily / Health / People I know / Stevens Johnson Syndrome24 Comments on Part 1: Seriously? Where do I begin? Stevens-Johnson Syndrome…

I shake my Fists at You!

Kyle in the hospital

Over the next few weeks I want to share our story, the story of how Stevens-Johnsons Syndrome came  into our life (twice), burned our house down and changed us forever.  Our world completely turned on its head, I honestly do not know how we made it through. Truth be told, we are still not out of the woods and sweet Kyle will be dealing with the physical complications (like a very weakened immune system)  for the rest of his life.  Just this week he is getting over the combo-illness-package of Hand Foot & Mouth, Strep Throat & a nasty Staph Infection on his upper thigh. I am so glad he did not have to go back in the hospital. That’s how he rolls — now.
Continue reading “Part 1: Seriously? Where do I begin? Stevens-Johnson Syndrome…”

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The Nordstrom Juniors Dressingroom & Freezing the Carrots that Were Not Meant to be Frozen

by CrazyUsPeople I know10 Comments on The Nordstrom Juniors Dressingroom & Freezing the Carrots that Were Not Meant to be Frozen
Marianne & I

Here is the text I sent a good friend last night (and yes, I type fast and have the ability of sending very prolific texts):

Hey and by the way, I was thinking, so if there was a Zombie Apocalypse, I would totally want you there with me. Not only would you make sure my leggings looked just right, you would make sure everyone around you was safe because you are just that kind of selfless badass cool.

Those words came to me in the middle of the day after thinking about my friend. Her is heart at least six sizes bigger than anyone else I know (and not because she has heart disease).  She patiently, creatively and openly loves her children, her family and the rest of us. I am so glad I fell into her radar! With our busy lives and because we don’t live particularly close to one another, seeing each other is this big huge gift.

Saturday was one of those times. She and I spent a kidless, husbandless evening trying on clothes in the Juniors department of Nordstrom’s (don’t judge). We had a beyond fantastic time. Ok, this is how it really went down. After I picked out my first batch of outfits, I sat in the dressing room while she went back and forth, finding me the perfect fit and just the right size.  She graciously waited for me to decide on my outfits before she  took the time to chose hers. She, most excellently playing the part of my personal shopper, even dared me into a pair of leggings. And you know what? I think those leggings look even better twenty-five years later. 1987, I own you, well, at least part of you. I left the rest of you hanging in the Juniors Department of Nordstrom. Farewell Cropped Dreamcatcher Sweatshirt. Hang well, dark brown and yes also cropped, fringe t-shirt. Don’t even think of it because I will never ever wear you, teal and yellow feather earrings!

I digress.

After sending my friend the above text, this was her most awesome response:

I hear a raw guitar solo in the background with a creepy organ for a low budget Zombie Movie – starring us!

Now I picture me and all of my friends rocking our 1980’s Zombie-meets-Total-Eclipse-of-the-Heart look, which most definitely includes sporting our Maybeline Teal Blue Eyeliner (liberally applied), big bangs, flowy shirts, tight leather pants, high heel clogs borrowed from my older sister (and friend), Brenda. Turn around bright eyes!

. . . and then I froze the carrots that weren’t meant to be frozen.

I have this other amazing friend who lives right down the street. We talk and text all the time. We share the same community and she always understands  me when I get unnerved by the school system or am ready to jump off my roof because there is too much freaking snow. I could not get through most days without her (ok, slightly dramatic). I could manage, but she just makes it so much easier (and more hilarious).

Did I leave my carrots in your car?

She quickly responds,

Those were carrots? Shit!

Minutes later, she texts me back.

Kidding, I didn’t see them, but I will look.

And then minutes later I opened our freezer and there they were, half frozen and confused. At least Kyle says he will eat them.

Honestly, I have been blessed with really cool friends and really amazing people in my life. I feel lucky that my Park City friend is a smart-assed text away and that my shopping pal is not much further. I have had friends come, go, hate me and then decide to love me again.  Then I have friends, who are far away because they literally live far away. Then there was Markus, who by some act of fate, drifted back into our life. It was literally at just the perfect moment. He had taken a new job in Salt Lake City and was alone with time on his hands while his lovely  & witty wife Teresa and their adorable Sammy were still back at their other home.  Because of this logistically situation, Markus was able to be and could be at the hospital almost every single day because Kyle needed that kind of friend.

Mel & I

My two oldest friends (not because they are old, but because I have known them the longest) are Marianne and Melanie. I have know Moe (that is what I call her) since I was five and Melanie since I was eleven. I remember the day I met each of them. Melanie was the new girl at church and the second I looked at her I knew we would be friends, friends for life and guess what? We are still alive and we are still friends. The first time I met Marianne she was sad and hiding under a table during our Sunday School class. Some church person brought me, as the new person, into the room to meet the class and there she was, under the table. I have known these two ladies through it all and love them even more because of it.  Just tonight Melanie and I reconnected. It has been over a year. See, when Kyle was sick, because she was so far away, I just could not figure out how to reach out and how to talk to her.  Honestly, when she reached out to me, I was short, distant and forgot to call her back.

I have been thinking about Mel a lot lately and felt like I should call her. She beat me to it. Just tonight after dropping my very resistant and crabby sons off at swim team practice and just as I was starting my car to drive back home during a snow storm, I saw Melanie’s number on my caller ID. I answered and like it hadn’t been a year since we last spoke, we talked. We understood each other and I don’t even know if she realizes this, but she gave me that moment, a moment to talk about Kyle. She oohed and awwed at just the right second while I told her about Kyle’s eyeball flesh falling off and mostly she understood. She understood why I could not be there for her when she needed me. She understood that I was literally getting through, second by second. No matter how time or life  has separated us, today she was my Mel, the one who taught me to drive, the one I helped roll her car out of the garage so her parents would not hear before we started it half way down the street and the one who matched me can for can on our Aquanet Hair Spray use. Go 1980’s!

Could this sappy post get any sappier? Well, yes it could! As I listen to Eli complain that he has way too much homework, not enough time to relax and that Dave needs to help him NOW, I also think about my friends, old, new, web based and no more. I am grateful for you, all of you! My life is better because you are or have been in it! Thank you!

Dave & Kevin

PS: All of you out there (and I am assuming you already do) take time to remember those good folks in your life! They really are a gift.

The Summary: I am NOT AN IDIOT!

by CrazyUsFamily / People I know / Where Do I belong?10 Comments on The Summary: I am NOT AN IDIOT!

. . . So now here I sit in one of the many Salt Lake City Starbucks. My boys are down in Salt Lake City attending an afternoon art class. By the way, they LOVE it! Eli is making his very own two-sided ugly doll and Kyle is making a leather snake in honor of one very special baby Copperhead. Because this post has taken months to write, here I really sit at my kitchen island. Both boys are in bed asleep, Dave is at the computer slurping down a bowl of cereal, booking flights to Mexico. Ok, here is where I really sit. I am upstairs in my office. The sun is shining on my laptop and I am laughing out loud because Busy Mom found her debit card and finding her debit card is a call for treats. All I can think about is walking to the kitchen and slicing myself a giant piece of Gluten Free Cake. It is taking every ounce of self-control to remain at the keyboard.

For the past year in fits, starts and good intentions, I have been trying to re-launch my blog. Probably the biggest set back was Kyle’s long battle with Stevens-Johnson Syndrome. I have mentioned that we almost lost Kyle and that Kyle almost lost his eyesight. His eyes still give him trouble and his immune system is still not great. Just last week he had Strep Throat, Hand Foot & Mouth and an ugly Staph Infection on his upper thigh. Our journey is not over. And today, because Kyle was in the hospital exactly one year ago, this is a very tender time for us. In the coming weeks I will share our journey. While Kyle was sick we also learned very quickly that there just is not enough information out there about Stevens Johnson’s Syndrome and its lingering effects. I hope to change that, even a little.

In June when we started to accept that Kyle was going to be ok, my body decided to crash. One day I had a sinus infection. Two weeks later I had a miserable case of Pneumonia. I have never been that afraid for my own health. When your breathing is compromised, that is so freaking scary. I decided once again that crazyus.com could wait and that I needed to get myself well.
I spent the summer doing just that.

Stevens Johnsons Syndrome
Stevens Johnsons Syndrome
Kyle's Stevens Johnson Syndrome
Kyle’s Stevens Johnson Syndrome
Stevens Johnson Syndrome
Stevens Johnson Syndrome

Look at it this way. This is my story to tell.

So of course, I am grateful. I am for those people who will always hold a big space in my heart, like my lifers like Marianne and Melanie, like my Park City bestie, Beth, and my flip-flop wearing pal, MB. Thank you!  I have learned a lot. I am light. I am dark. I am not perfect. I am grateful and happy to be at it again.

We are good, not Facebook-Status-Picture-Perfect good, but really behind-the-scenes, good. The boys are well into the school year and I am ready to rumble. For now I will leave you with a quote my friend Stacey told me earlier today after discussing how we can help our boys navigate this crazy world. It’s a little sappy and I love it! Thank you Dr. Seuss!:

“Be who you are and say what you feel, because those who mind don’t matter, and those who matter don’t mind.”

― Dr. Seuss

 

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I’m an idiot Part 3: Dooce and Crazyus

by CrazyUsArchives / Family / Health / mommy blogs / People I know24 Comments on I’m an idiot Part 3: Dooce and Crazyus
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I’m an idiot Part 3: Dooce and Crazyus

 

 

The idiocy of this post. Here is deal. When I decided I wanted to actively blog again, a well-known blogger told me the following:

“Beth, if you ever wanted to become something again, or even be excepted into the blogging community,  you owe your public an explanation. They need to know what happened between you and Dooce.”

The ridiculousness of it all, is that for some reason I feel like I  (owe you an explanation, that is). Hmmm. Still working on that.

So . . .

Here is my first conundrum, and probably why I find blogging a most paralyzing situation. See, I have not been sure what to say or how to say it. Likewise, I feel weird sharing. I am also terrified of the backlash. I have experienced gas-lighting, and it ain’t fun.

That being said, it is true. For me, 2006 was horrific! My fertility was heartbreaking, my late miscarriage nearly ended me, and dealing with the rise of the mommy-blog-nation FREAKED me out.

Instead of pushing back, or holding my ground, I fell apart. I make no excuses. I am a real human being. Fertility hormones are crazy. Late miscarriages suck! Dealing with other mommies (in such a new and public way) was difficult (at best). Was it hard for you?

Many folks in the blog world understandably associate me (or long ago did [wink wink]) with Dooce and her wildly successful website, DOOCE DOT COM.  Of course they do. For a time, Dooce often chose to write about me and my family in a public format. That is it. In private-friendship world, I would not chose to air this story. BECAUSE this WAS NOT a private friendship, I feel compelled to address it publicly.  And because the world’s most famous and most successful mommy blogger chose to write about me, my husband and my sons, I feel obligated. Isn’t that weird? I think it is.

I also think that is why I am feeling the pressure now. Dooce can remove the posts about me from her website (has she?), and I can take my blog down (I did), YET those posts will always exist — somewhere.

I keep trying to wrap my head around it and to push myself through it.  I also realize that Dooce has written about many, many people.  I think it is her formula and it is brilliant — drama online (where she casts herself in the role of victim). Her relationship talk completely draws the reader in. I think at some point I ceased being a human to her and  simply became character in her online story. And for a time, she often wrote about her BFF, Beth of crazyus.com.  I was on display and I was not certain what to do with all of it, would you?

I hope you will cut me some slack.  I don’t think many people in the industry have. Yes, I benefited from the light Dooce cast on me, but I also have felt the dark and uncomfortable shadow of my association with her.  See, because she publicly wrote regularly about me, when Dooce had an opinion, my world assumed I thought the same.  Behind the scenes it was different.  I was always walking on eggshells, fearing that I would upset her. I always did. It was absolutely crazy. I have never had a friendship quite like this. I could do no right. It was creepy. I learned and felt her cold and unforgiving wrath: no one crosses dooce.

Oddly now and because she wrote about me, and because people still associate me with her,  I feel (and have been told) that I owe you an explanation. Do I? I am not sure. What I do know is that our relationship was prominent in a public forum, so maybe the public is where it needs to be worked out. Thoughts?

Of course my foray into blogging and dooce’s super world was strange. And by strange I mean exhilarating, fun, weird, and horrible. And yes, I liken this particular friendship to a low-rent form of Oprah talking publicly about her friend, Gayle. However, there is one big difference. When Oprah and Gayle fight, they seem to work it out. In contrast, Dooce and I had a falling out. The end. Then I took my blog down, and you never heard form me again.  Here is what I got out of it. A former neighbor of both mine and Heather’s told me this:

“Beth, Heather is telling everyone you up and moved to Park City because of her.”

First, I have no idea if his gossip was true, but it makes a great story, doesn’t it? Second, what the what? We were building a house for two years before I took my blog down. Ah, but third, the actual truth is not dramatic. And we mommy bloggers love the drama, don’t we? It is more compelling for people to hear that I ran and hid from dooce than my actual realty:  I moved and was sad because I had a late miscarriage. I chose to get myself healthy and took my blog down to focus on my dudes and to cope with my sorrow. Well, I would have been smart if I did run and hide, but that just isn’t true.

Likewise, after I moved,  I assume you never heard Heather talk about her BFF friend, Beth again.  But because she talked about me publicly before I took my blog down, and because people keep asking (publicly and privately), I keep feeling (like my blogger friend suggested) that I owe you something.

So I ask you,

“Why do I feel this way? Why do I feel an obligation to you?”

[insert soothing, gentle and peaceful chorus here] MY ANSWER: At this point I believe history has adjusted reality. I do not think any of this really matters, does it? In some ways it really doesn’t.

Then again…Wait. It kind of does. I, not, you, have suffered the extreme dark-side of Heather’s anger. As a result of falling on the wrong side of dooce, I have been shunned, ostracized, lost opportunities, called an embarrassment, someone who invaded her life, a kiss-ass trying to earn favor with dooce, blah, blah, blah. For instance, I love how common friends say that she and I are only friends because of blogging, omitted the long history Heather and I share. I am continually contacted regarding her. Recently I was told where she lives and asked if I could go and take pictures of her trash can. Another friend emailed me to lecture me on her divorce.  As far as I know, she refuses to make amends with anyone she gets angry at. In contrast and from my own experience, when you make amends, you have to look at yourself. I like to tell myself that she cannot look at herself because it would be too much. If she did make amends with all the bridges she burns, she may collapse, or better, may actually heal, forgive and realize that we can share the world together, that we are all cool, troubled and of value.  I have no idea, but perhaps thats the zone she thinks she needs to exist in for her success. It does make me sad. I really liked her way back when. I am a good and loyal friend. I was a good and loyal friend to her. It is too bad that stupid neighbors and stupid internet people perverted our relationship. It sucks that so many folks tried to use me to get close to her. It totally is lame that she can trust me for the person I am. Why can she write so openly and not give the rest of us the same platform? I never quite got it. I did not like she constantly telling me that she was convinced that I thought she was the bane of my existence. Sorry for using the word, “retarded,” here, but that is just retarded (very foolish or stupid). Really.

Moving forward, taking deep breaths, and oh thank God — I am glad I am here where I am now. I am grateful for what I have learned. I forgive myself for not getting it.Who did? Blogging was new. I never anticipated I would be walking in those particular shoes.I only wish I wasn’t such a pussy. I am learning to be better about standing up for myself instead of letting myself get caught up in the crazy.

Now I live in Park City. When we moved here I did not know a soul. It was terrifying and exciting. I did not have to talk about my blog so I didn’t.  Consequently, no one I see has any idea that I blogged or that I knew Dooce. People here care about skiing, raising an Olympian, money, age prevention and exercise. And if they do know who Dooce is, they do not know she was ever my friend. Here, I am known as Kyle and Eli’s mom, Dave’s wife. We are known as the family who built the green house next to Rob’s. We are the family that took our kids to Hippie Pre-School, and the crazy family who travels the world. These days the fact that Kyle nearly died and was bitten by a copperhead snake is what people in our offline world want to talk about.  Of course, it has been nice.

Here it is. If you want to read my stuff, I would love to have you. I am inconsistent. I no longer know dooce. I am certain she no longer wants to know me. Yes, we still have several close friends in common. And yes, I think it is bizarre. I would think by now that we could move past this. I have. I sent her a letter when Kyle was sick. I have sent good wishes her way. Namaste even to her. Seriously, I can’t give this situation any more power (if that makes sense).  And because I am an eternal optimist, I hope everything will once again be right in this world (yes, including a peaceful resolution with Heather). That being said and because I am getting way too old to believe in happy endings, know that I am not holding my breath.

 

PS I may keep rewriting this post until the end of time. I am ok with that. That was one crazy ass time of life!

 

[to be continued]

part 1: blogher 2006

part 2: 5 year run down

Part 4: the summary

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