Category Archives: Addiction to

140 Characters of Hilarity

Posted by Elizabeth in Addiction to, Good Stuff

My feelings about Twitter are crystal clear, but only if you follow me there. I post all the whole day long YES I DO about everything from spotting geese outside my window to The Bachelor, and all the stuff in the middle of that, like Man, it’s time for a nap or WHO THE FUCK STOLE MY OREOS?

I read someone else’s tweet the other day about their annoyance with people who overshare. Like, their followers know the minute someone puts on real pants for the day (which, hello, pants? OVERRATED), or that they chose to switch from American Idol to Criminal Minds and OMG THE DECISIONS WE HAVE TO MAKE. The annoyed fellow felt like not every moment of the daily grind should be tweeted. How many times you peed yesterday is, contrary to popular belief, an unnecessary bit of information.

For me, Twitter is just plain hilarious. The beauty of it is that people can’t write a diatribe about their children’s poo like they can on Facebook (yeah, you know who you are, and it’s GROSS). You have only so many characters you can exploit to get your point across and if you’re not careful or witty, you lose people and no one cares whether you just met James Franco in a coffee shop or you wrecked your Audi on an overpass in a blizzard. Twitter just won’t let you get away with all the words. It won’t let you post paragraph after paragraph about your Tetris score. Twitter won’t send you messages about High School Classmates! Take this Cool Quiz now! Please send 4 friends a strawberry plant in Farmville! And for that, Twitter, millions of people thank you.

I both use AND abuse Twitter. I’ve drunk-tweeted, Ambien-tweeted, mean-tweeted (see Dooce hair debacle of April 2011) but I’ve also hit a few strides here and there where I am ABSOLUTELY HYSTERICAL to the point that I freely brag about it.

I’ve “given up” Facebook for Lent, which is just a lame attempt to stop stalking people and staring at their babies’ pictures to see if they look like them. (Technically I ought to be doing something for Lent, like something good for the planet, as Cher would say. And I already ate fries, so I can’t give those up, and I drank a Diet Dew AND I hit the snooze button AND I haven’t exercised. Facebook is all that’s left.) Immediately I got emails and DM’s asking if I was giving up Twitter too.

HELL NAW. Twitter is magical and love and light and all that shit. And if I met Jack Dorsey tomorrow, I would kiss that bespectacled face and declare him Hero of All Social Media Everywhere Ever.

War on Drugs

Posted by Elizabeth in Addiction to, Anxiety, Lamenting, Muse, Totally normal

I’ve just spent the better part of an afternoon doing two things: first, crying inside because I have a migraine and my office is THE LOUDEST PLACE ON THE GODDAMNED EARTH and second, reading articles by Penelope Trunk and Cat Marnell and Rolling Stone about pharmaceuticals, both prescribed and abused.

Yesterday I lost my temper in the office. I let someone get under my skin something fierce and I literally had to remove myself from the situation and walk out. I had that fiery red face, the hot flash, the bright sparks of light flashing in front of this person’s face and I just LOST IT. I had shaky hands and sweaty palms until bedtime last night. It was the most rattled I’ve been in, well, I don’t know how long. But actually for the last two months, I’ve felt the panic start to rise again. I have never been happier teaching my class, work is fine and home is fine, but still I feel the anxiety simmering right under the surface. When people talk to me their voices are extra loud. When I have phone conversations my mind wanders and I have to force myself to focus, lest I forget who I’m talking to. I fidget in meetings, poking people’s backs or kicking them from my chair, just to feel myself doing something. This sensation of detachment could have a lot to do with allergies, believe it or not. It could be the very early change in seasons, or the down time I have at work right now. Who knows?

The drugs I take are, I believe, absolutely essential to my daily function. Perhaps this is psychosomatic, but I think I can feel the edge of panic more if I take my medication off schedule, like if I take it at dinner instead of breakfast. I guess this means they are working correctly, but I don’t really know. I don’t have another appointment with my doctor until April, so I suppose I’ll ask her then.

About a year ago I got the stomach flu and I didn’t take my drugs for a few days. I freaked the fuck out one day when Brian wasn’t at home with me, and that was the moment I realized that I can’t live my life in a normal, manageable way unless I’m on these things. If you can do it right and do it like you’re told, the right prescription can mean a world of difference.

Not everyone can do that, though. I know addicts. Like, know them know them. I know that for some people, drugs are just joints that float to the top on a Saturday night at a neighborhood party. For other people they are prescription pills that feel just a little too good to stop asking the doctor for them. For still others, they are shot glasses or fifths of bourbon or three bottles of wine. Addicts don’t have to use needles or lighters under tin foil. “Bad” drugs aren’t always illegal. I’m not saying anything here that you don’t already know.

My Nancy Reagan moment is here and I’M OWNING IT, BITCHES.

This stuff is slippery, y’all. There’s a fine, almost indistinguishable line between fixing a chemical imbalance and just a fix.

Some people judge me for writing all of this here, and to you I say WELCOME TO THE CRAZY. I am not nearly as crazy as probably 97% of the population, so probably you should step out into the world and meet some more folks. Diversify a little. For those that aren’t so judge-y but look at me as if I were an ostrich with six wings, who gives a shit? Really. And for those that read this and understand what I mean, HONEY, YOU ARE NOT ALONE. You take those prescribed medications just like your doctor told you to. You pick up that bag at the pharmacy with pride, because you were brave enough to get what you need to be who you need to be.

And finally, to those of you reading this who think pharmaceuticals are something to enjoy, something to take the edge off, something to make it through the rest of today and maybe tomorrow morning, get some help now. Drugs – in whatever form they come – are dangerous little fire pokers. They’re useful, they cause pain and relieve pain, and before you know it they will burn a hole in you so deep it will take years to heal.

Take it if you need it. But remember this: you’re not always the one who knows what you need.

On the regular

Posted by Elizabeth in Addiction to, Daily, Family, Good Stuff, Totally normal

Brian proposed to me 9 years ago today. I point this out because that’s the only time he actually sent me flowers at work, and I’m sure they were the most expensive tulips in the history of ever, because really? Florist flowers on Valentine’s Day? DUMB. They were pretty, though.

There was a little note attached that said “Can’t wait to see you tonight.” I point THIS out because he told me when he was going to propose (an accident) and this afforded me time to get a new outfit and a manicure. Brian’s not so good at keeping the secrets.

But here we are, lots of years later, and Kroger tulips in cellophane or a Solo cup surely will appear on the kitchen table about 6:30 tonight. Dinner out? No. Balloons that say something cheesy and ridiculous? God, I hope not.

We’re not shiny or fancy; we’re just two people who get along most of the time, when we remember to count our blessings.

I went down to the river to pray

Posted by Elizabeth in Addiction to

Every day I cross the river that bisected our lives for so many years. Tonight, though, I cry tonight for the relationships and friendships that have fallen away. I have loved so many in my life, so hard and with a fervor that is rarely reciprocated. When I pray silently at night, I ask for strength and wisdom. I ask God to allow me to see things through others’ eyes, so that I may learn how to look at the world in a completely different way.

Tonight I prayed that you both were here, holding the other end of the telephone, whispering the words I so need to hear. I long for the time when I could hold the hands of either of you – so strong with age  – and feel the skin that is the history of my skin.

The tears running down my cheeks tonight are stained with ink and shimmer, in dark contrast to the prayerful visions I have of the peaceful river dividing us. My heart is full with memories of so much pure unconditional love. Unless one day I have a child, I imagine few if any of those moments will return.

Distances – rivers, canyons, deserts, mountains  – all separate me from ones I love dearly, that I ache to see when I feel like this. When my self-paranoia rises like a phoenix and towers over my mundane responsibilities, I need to touch the hand that feels familiar to me. I want to look into the eyes that really really know me. And most of all I want to know that the arms that hold me are arms that will always love me. They will love my flaws, my rambling stories and my dirty kitchen.

Every season, every equinox, spurs on the promise of new life. Each of us has made it across a tributary to another side of our river. New seasons bring new opportunities to love again, to look at love in a different light. We have a chance to start all over, this time with the crunch of leaves or chill in the air.

This time with the promise of unconditional love.

How to look pretty this fall

Posted by Elizabeth in Addiction to, Good Stuff, Listing, Muse, Shopping

Ed. Note: The following guest post is generously provided by my favorite fashionista, Kathy. Be nice to her; she’s going to make you fabulous for fall.

Hello! I am Elizabeth’s friend Kathy. I have known Elizabeth since she began a career as a news media professional, a career she wisely ditched in favor of having a life and a reasonable amount of money. Congrats to Elizabeth for figuring this out only nine years before I did! My main problem with her these days is that I don’t see her nearly enough.

So, you know how Elizabeth comes here and opens up her heart and mind to us, so that we might feel less alone in our own struggles and learn to understand and accept each other as we are–as friends, and as brothers and sisters on this crazy spinning ball we call The Earth?

Well, I like outfits! It’s still pretty hot here in Raleigh all the time, and yet, all I can think about is Outfits in The Time of the Colored Leaves.

I am now going to tell you what to wear. Most of this stuff you can get at the mall. Get on email lists and stores will send you coupons.

My current biggest fear on the planet is what is going to happen to fashion when “Mad Men” grooves on into those disgusting Seventies, because I have been so happy for the styles of the Sixties Hitchcock blondes to return to the stores.

That means Dress like the Sixties for fall i.e. Kim Novak, Betty Draper, and fat Twiggy.  Because, come on, no one’s as skinny as real Twiggy. Some of us are downright Ziggy.

Nevertheless, I will wear an orange miniskirt this year and you will just have to shut it on up if you don’t like it. Yes, I’m telling everyone to find and wear an orange skirt. Or royal blue. Or red. Just make it a bold color, in a simple shape, with good structure. I got mine at Ann Taylor, but The Limited, Nordstrom and J. Crew are doing similar good things.

Now, an above-knee, solid-color skirt is no great risk. A-line, full, pencil or whatever are good too. If you’ve got the height to pull off that just-above-the-calf thing, go nuts.

Here’s where I’m going to challenge you. Are you sitting down? You are? Well then stand up, stand up (joke courtesy of Tom Scharpling.)

Wear that skirt with a top in a non-matching, solid, bold color. Put the orange skirt with a pink top! Your Kelly green pencil needs a royal blue sweater! Yellow skirt? Teal that!

It’s called color-blocking folks, and it’s gonna look adorable. Trust me! You can even do it in less-bold colors, such as gray and black, and it still counts as color-blocking. Just keep the shapes simple and avoid detail or adornment—that goes for accessories, too.

Okay, if that’s too loco for you, might I interest you in some animal prints of which I have previously not preferred? Sixties You (AKA your better self) practically requires it. Sweaters and shoes are a good entrée into this realm.

One lovely animal pattern can be found on my favorite item of the whole fall so far, J. Crew’s Tippi sweater, no doubt inspired by Hitchcock blonde Tippi Hedren. It’s perfect. The neckline hits your collarbone at just the right spot, the sleeves are my favorite length—bracelet—and it comes in an array of gorgeous colors and is a nice lightweight merino that’s not too warm but warm enough. It’s America’s greatest sweater.

J.Crew's Tippi Sweater in Leopard

Pantyhose! Look, I know only our mom’s friends wear pantyhose at the moment, but if you’re gonna go ladylike, they work. And, they hold you in place nicely under all those pencil skirts. You love tights, don’t you? It’s really not that big of a leap. Remember how polished and put-together it used to make you feel back when you put them on in the Nineties? It still works, trust me.

For further guidance, I recommend you visit the Lady Chic Shop on Neiman Marcus’ website. Please note that all the models are wearing black pantyhose.

You know how they say go big, or go home, and it’s really dorky? Well, I’m telling you to go big and then go OUT… on the town or something? Go with large jeweled stud earrings, track down a vintage brooch or two (I’m particularly obsessed with starbursts—for earrings, cocktail rings, and a mirror for my upstairs hallway) and a short string of pearls or beads in a single or double strand. Grab a frame bag, tie it with a simple scarf in maybe a deco-looking geometric pattern or a houndstooth.

So, now you’re dressed and you look good. Here’s where I leave you.