Leggings are not pants

Leggings aren’t pants is something I have heard others say and will admit that I have also said over and over.

Remember my friend Jenna? Last year as she was launching her LulaRoe business she asked friends to like her business page on Facebook. And this my friends is where I admit to you that I totally pity-liked her page.

Don’t look at me like that, you know that you that you have pity-liked pages too. If she had added me without asking I would have been annoyed and left the group right away, because nobody likes that friend. Seriously, nobody likes that friend. But because she asked for support and she was a friend, I liked her page. I will also admit that I had to Google exactly what this LulaRoe thing was and I couldn’t understand why women would gather together to purchase leggings just like they were Tupperware.

She and Denise, her business partner, had contests on their page and were giving away a pair of leggings. They went on about their buttery softness and while I didn’t understand what butter had to do with leggings I went ahead and entered because I have two daughters that liked wearing leggings no matter how much I told them that leggings weren’t pants.

You know where this is going don’t you?

I won a pair of leggings, because of course I did and then I went ahead and pity bought another pair because I have two daughters and I couldn’t give one child a pair of crazy, loud leggings and not the other. And this, my friends, is where I admit to that when I received said free leggings and pity purchased leggings that I tried them and OH MY GOODNESS! where had these leggings been all of my life? And since this post is some sort of confessional where I am clearing my conscience I’m going to go ahead and admit that the one reason that my oldest daughter was gifted a pair of leggings was that they were too short on me and she is four inches shorter than I am. I took those other leggings and wore them every chance I got and did’t even mention to my youngest that these leggings were supposed to be for her. Please forgive me Ariel.

I spotted them in the wild when I went to a vendor fair and a local-ish consultant was selling her crack Lula-goods and since I was losing weight and needed more clothes I kind of went a wee bit crazy buying different pieces that they had while my sister looked at me like I was crazy. Although ask her how many pairs of leggings she owns now, ahem.

Soon I was wearing my LulaRoe pieces nearly every day and the only other pieces of clothing I would wear were pieces that I loved. Some thought I was a LulaRoe snob, but I just liked the fact that I felt like I was wearing my pajamas all day long. And the prints! I mean where else can you get a red skirt that has pockets and purple German Shepherds all over it? Side note, this does not sell people on LulaRoe as most people aren’t looking for red skirts with any kind of animals on them.

Now Alexis and I have our own LulaRoe business, I mean you had to see that was coming. We launched in January and are slowly building up our Facebook group. You should totally come over and join us, its fun and I swear it’s not all LulaRoe as we talk about everything, well at least I do because we all know that I am a chronic over-sharer on the internet.

And because I would love to see all of you, this Sunday, April 30 we are going to have a Stop and Shop at Alexis’s house in Lakewood. I’ll be the one sitting and not doing too much as my lungs are still healing from the mother of all asthma flare ups. So if you are local or local-ish we would love to have you join us. You don’t have buy anything, it can totally be a pity-visit where you look at our lovelies and enter some raffles. Plus we will have cupcakes and who doesn’t like cupcakes? And if you are all, I can’t eat cupcakes there will be a veggie tray. Email us at LLRDurdil at gmail dot com for more details.

Follow us on Instagram here if you are so inclined and feel free to come back here on Wednesdays when I share what we wore for the week.

LulaRoe Drop N Shop

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Meet Vivien

I know I know, I don’t write for years and I come back with hey world I have this tattoo because I didn’t kill myself.

When I jump in, I jump in the deep end. If you have been around for a while you know that about me and if you haven’t we should probably get properly acquainted.

Hi there, my name is Heather and I am a chronic over-sharer. Well only on the internet, in real life I probably won’t say much to you because meeting new people makes me all kinds of anxious. Unless I have my camera in my hand and am taking photos, because then I have a job to do. It’s complicated, I’m complicated or as I like to call it quirky. It’s taken me nearly 40 years to be comfortable with my quirkiness and some days I still struggle.

Nearly 40.

I can’t believe that in 30 days I will be forty years old. It feels like just yesterday I was graduating high school with a baby on my hip. Now that baby is old enough buy booze and has a baby of her own. Its crazy how time flies.

Giggles and The Chicken have both grown up and flew the coop. I remember when just pondering the thought of living without them here gave me such anxiety and now I have to remind them when it is late at night that they need to go home because they don’t live here anymore. It’s kind of funny how life works that way.

Who would have thought we would be empty-nesters before I was 40? It’s really not that bad except for the whole, I can’t force the children to do tasks in exchange for punishment. Written as I look at the Christmas trees still adorning my house the end of April. I know I said I was quirky, but I don’t want to be that quirky.

So where were we? Ah yes, we were getting properly acquainted.

If you follow me on Instagram you have seen our family grow.

If you haven’t been following me on Instagram, you may see my family like I do from 2010.

Our little family of four

But the reality is that this is our family now, well as of Thanksgiving 2016.

Thanksgiving 2016

Here we have The Husband, Giggles holding the baby, my floating head, The Chicken holding the selfie stick, The Chicken’s fiance and Giggles’ partner.

Not only did the girls grow up, they went and found themselves some pretty fantastic guys and we even added a baby to the mix. I guess I should be clear Giggles and her partner added a baby to the mix. The husband and I get to enjoy being grandparents.

Vivien

Grandma.

I never thought I would be a grandmother before I was 40, but here I am and I love it. It is true what they say being a grandparent is so much better than being a parent. I know I am pretty biased but she is one beautiful baby, I know at nearly 17 months old she isn’t a baby anymore and I should start calling her a toddler but I am not ready for that.

She is one of the most determined babies you will ever meet. You can see the gears turning in her head when she is trying to figure out a problem. I see a lot of my father in law in her and I am sure that he would be proud to know that she has the fierceness that his family is known for.

Are you new here? Are you a returning friend? Let me know what’s going on in your life as I would love to get to know you!

Breathe

Breathe.

Such a simple word with such an impactful meaning for me that is forever inscribed on my inner wrist.

People comment and ask why I need a reminder to do what my body should be able to do on its own.

Breathe.

People wonder if I have it there because of my severe persistent asthma.

Breathe.

People ask me if I was drunk when I got the tattoo done.

Breathe.

breathe

I have dealt with suicidal thoughts most of my life. There are always reasons why I shouldn’t do it and most of my reasoning for staying is because I don’t want to inconvenience anyone else. I don’t talk about it much because who wants to hear that I have a plan in place and some days I am annoyed that I have items on my mental ‘To Stay’ list.

One day, some time ago, all of the stars aligned and everything was pointing to this being the day. My husband was gone, as were the girls, and he would be the one to find me. Not that it will be easy to find me, but he knows where to look as we have had frank and honest conversations about these feelings swirling in my head. As I drove home from getting gas in the car, because the last thing you want your loved one to have to worry about when they are driving around making funeral arrangements is getting gas in the car, my phone rang. At first I decided I wasn’t going to take the call, but then I felt guilt that this friend might think that if she had only come over to my house that she could have saved me. No one should ever have to live with that kind of guilt, so I answered.

I remember listening to myself on the phone, my voice was flat and when she asked me if I wanted to come over for a glass of wine, I refused, telling her that I had plans. She knew I was alone for the weekend and wouldn’t take no for answer, so I decided that I could wait a few more hours since no one would be home at my house for days. As we sat in her basement sipping on our wine, she told me I didn’t seem like myself and asked what plans were so important that I was trying to blow her off. I don’t remember what I answered but I told her I was doing something permanent.

I remember the look of panic in her eyes as she finished off her glass of wine and tried to lighten the mood by asking if I meant getting a tattoo. Before I knew it I was being whisked off to one of our local tattoo parlors that were open at 10 o’clock on a Saturday night. And when I say whisked I mean I drove, because my friend had had a bit too much wine, couldn’t drive, and doesn’t realize that she saved my life.

As I pondered what I was going to get tattooed on my body, I realized that the moment had passed. That if I went through with my plan, my friend would feel guilty because she didn’t see the signs. I chose breathe to be tattooed on my wrist as a reminder that spur of the moment decisions have permanent consequences and cannot be undone. When life seems too hard, when the voices get too loud, when I have all of the items checked off of my list I need to take a moment and just breathe.

Often times when I am struggling or stressed, you will find me rubbing my wrist and just trying to breathe.

I have tried to talk to doctors about my issues and they all seem surprised because I look happy and well adjusted. They don’t want to hear about my anxiety or the sleepless nights. They don’t want to hear about how I can have a rational conversation with them about the horrible things I want to do to myself while I’m dressed nicely and functioning as an adult. They have given me multiple choice tests that I second guess being truly honest with them on because I don’t want to seem that crazy. Because when things you think or do are staring back at you in that generic black and white font, they seem worse. Maybe they are right, maybe it’s not that bad. I mean everyone has stress in their life, right?

My husband has asked me if I am afraid that one day I will run out of reasons to not follow through with my plan. My answer changes based on my mood and mental state at the time. But afraid, not really.

I don’t share this to make you uncomfortable. I don’t share it for you to be concerned. I share it because more people need to be talking about it and not just during the month of September.

September is Suicide Prevention Month.