Andrea Wilson Woods' Blog

According to psychiatrist Elisabeth Kubler-Ross, there are five stages of grief: denial, anger, bargaining, depression, and acceptance. These stages were initially applied to terminally ill patients, but were later adapted to include anyone who had experienced a personal loss (e.g., divorce, job). People may not go through every stage, and the order is not important. Though the Kubler-Ross model has been criticized, I believe it has merit. However, Kubler-Ross failed to recognize the importance of grieving the end of all meaningful relationships including friendships. Therefore, I would like to propose another stage: painger—that horrible feeling of being so upset that you want to hurt, emotionally and/or physically, the person who has caused you pain, but you still care too much about the person to actually harm him/her.

In many ways, I prefer anger because it’s just easier to hate someone. You can yell. You can scream. You can throw things. You can bitch to your friends. In anger, you find allies. Your boyfriend cheated on you? Your girlfriends will support your mad-as-hell rage. Getting revenge is more fun for everyone (except for the target) than feeling sorry for yourself. Anger encourages empowerment. Carrie Underwood’s Before He Cheats song was a huge hit because she didn’t cry, she got even. Whoever said living well is the sweetest revenge never “took a Louisville slugger to both headlights.” Honestly, I wish I could tell you a fantastic story about how I avenged a personal grievance, but when my crazy ex-boyfriend accused me of slashing “a hole in all four tires” I didn’t do it. Hell, I didn’t even know where he lived at the time.

When someone you love has hurt you, you may also experience emotional pain or depression. And trust me, no one wants to hear about it. After a certain point (other people determine this time for you), you are supposed to “get over it.” Even your best friends will grow tired of your pain because no one likes a pity party. In Sex and the City (episode #25), Carrie’s friends tell her to see a psychiatrist because they can’t listen to her whine anymore about her breakup with Big. According to the latest CDC statistics, more than one out of 20 Americans (ages 12 and older) are depressed; yet people are expected to pop a pill, see a shrink, suck it up, and move on. When someone asks, “How are you?” the only acceptable answer in our society is “I’m fine.”

Then there is painger. Anger and pain meet, they join forces, and they focus their energy against you as if you did something wrong. Their power is unstoppable, unbelievable at times because you feel crazy. The fury causes your adrenaline to increase, which elevates your heart rate; meanwhile, you cannot stop the tears from falling down your face. The faster your heart beats, the harder you cry, as if a dam has broken inside of you. If you think about the people who have upset you and you don’t know if you want to hit them or hug them, then you may be experiencing painger.

When I’m sad, I cry, nap, write, read, bathe, shop, walk Winston, and/or talk to someone. When I’m angry (and I cannot confront the person due to circumstances beyond my control), I exercise, pace, shower, scream, shop, and/or complain to someone. When I’m paingry, I have found only one thing that tempers my rage and controls my tears. I hit balls at the BatCade in Burbank. If available, I choose the slow-pitch softball batting cage #1 because I can’t hit anything else and it’s located on the far side of the property so no one bothers me. I usually pay for the time instead of by the pitch, but either way, I stay until calluses start forming on my hands and my arms are too sore to lift the bat.

I love hitting the balls; they become the faces of the people whose actions caused my painger. This year, I’ve been seeing old friends and an ex-boyfriend soaring toward me as the pitching machine spits them out. With every swing, my emotional pain moves from my heart into my arms and hands. With every hit, my anger transfers from the bat to the ball as if I have slapped those people who have hurt me. When the softball flies through the air, I feel free from the painger; it’s impossible to cry or to be mad when you imagine hitting a home run. I always leave the batting cages feeling depleted but satisfied that I have won another battle against painger. My batting average—.60—isn’t too shabby either.

AWW — XoXo

P.S. I want to thank Bones for inspiring this blog. I promise we’ll have that Long Island at Boardners, and we’ll hit some balls when you visit LA.

Posted under Health & Relationships | No Comments »

During the wee hours of the morning, I lie awake unable to fall asleep because of insomnia and/or our dog Winston, whose arthritis has been causing him much pain lately. Instead of reading the dozens of books on our shelves, magazines on our kitchen table, or hundreds of emails in my inbox, I secretly watch infomercials. [Stands up] My name is Andrea, and I am an Infomercial Addict. I love them. I’ll watch my favorite ones more than once just to see if the producers ever change the content (they do). Yes, you read that correctly. I watch reruns of infomercials. It’s a serious problem. I even have rules regarding my infomercial viewing procedure:

1. I prefer that regular people pitch me the products instead of celebrities. For example, Victoria Principal’s skin looks so fabulous, but I have a hard time believing it’s strictly due to her Principal Secret skincare products. (Can anyone say “facelift”?) However, regular people often become famous if the infomercial is popular (e.g., Billy Mays, Billy Blanks, Susan Powter).
2. I only watch infomercials about products that I would consider buying so I focus mainly on health, beauty, exercise, and pet items. Anything related to cooking causes me to change the channel.
3. I must be excited by the title, and Paid Programming doesn’t cut it. With a dozen infomercials to choose from, the producers must grab my attention. My favorite title of all time (even though the infomercial sucks) has to be, “Is Colon Detox Hype?”

The infomercial “a blend of the words information and commercial” was created in 1984 after U.S. President Ronald Reagan signed the Cable Communications Policy Act, which deregulated television. Sources disagree about the first American infomercial although many believe it was Herbalife’s one-hour advertisement for a weight-loss supplement. In the U.S., the term infomercial is usually reserved for programs that are 28 minutes and 30 seconds in length. Short 120-second commercials that hawk products are called direct response television advertisements aka DRTV spots or short form; they are not technically infomercials.

A true confession isn’t complete without full disclosure of one’s sins … so here are my favorite (currently airing) infomercials a.k.a. guilty pleasures:

1. P90X: The Proof promises to whip your body into shape in 90 days by using Tony Horton’s secret technique of “muscle confusion.” I call his method kicking your ass until you want to drop dead. Actually, I bought this program on eBay (much cheaper!), and I love it. The only thing the infomercial does not disclose is that P90X is not for beginners. I’m proof of muscle memory because I don’t exercise on a regular basis (I’ve stretched the 90 days into seven months), but I still manage to survive most of the workouts.
2. Look Thinner Instantly swears the only way to get your figure back is with Kymaro’s New Body Shaper. This infomercial has all of the right ingredients: live testimonials, quantitative proof, and an “easy fix” to a common problem. I wanted to buy a body shaper, but I knew how ridiculous it would seem to people given that I wear a petite size 2. (There’s no way I’m posting my weight.) I did not succumb to temptation.
3. Straight Sexy Hair assures all women with flat, straight, fine hair that we, too, can have that extra lift by using the innovative Instyler, a “new hair styling tool that straightens, polishes and styles hair by means of a rotating heated cylinder and brush bristles.” I was almost sold because “Haley” has “lifeless, limp hair” just like I do and the results seem incredible. But I read too many mixed reviews about the product, and I knew eventually that it would be available in stores at a cheaper price.
4. Peticure “removes the fear of harming your pet” with its revolutionary mechanical grooming tool that resembles a rotating emery board. You no longer have to clip your pets’ nails; you simply give them a “peticure.” As a pet owner who has trimmed her dog’s toenails too close to the quick too many times, the peticure is an easy sale. The only reason I didn’t buy it is because I wasn’t sure if Winston’s (our 200-pound English mastiff) nails would fit into the slot provided. Now a similar product, Pedi Paws, is available at drugstores and pet stores in our area.

WARNING: Before buying any Infomercial product, do your research. Make sure you really want the product, search for the best price, and read all of the fine print. The latest scam is Flat Abs Fast, which markets the AB Circle PRO. “For just $14.95, you can try it for 30 days.” Uh-huh. But the shipping is $34.50 and then it’s only five easy payments of $39.95. Total pre-tax cost: $249.20. And good luck canceling those automatic payments on your credit card if you don’t like the product.

Suddenly, I don’t want flat abs fast; I have to learn to accept my flab or go confuse my muscles again.

AWW — XoXo

Posted under Beauty/Fashion & Entertainment & Health | 3 Comments »

Yesterday I found out that a distant cousin of mine, I’ll call him Charlie, tried to commit suicide. He shot himself, but from my understanding, he placed the gun too far forward. Instead of blowing out his brains, he blasted off his nose and chin thus permanently disfiguring himself. Yet, he is still alive. I never knew Charlie suffered from depression, and I cannot imagine how he feels right now. He is a young man in his late twenties. He has children and a mother who loves him. Despite their pain, I feel the most empathy for Charlie, a man who failed at what was supposed to be the last task of his life.

Today is Adrienne’s birthday, and I can’t help thinking about her own battle with depression that wasn’t cured, but was certainly tempered by her diagnosis of liver cancer. Though the sadness lingered, she wanted to live more than anything … the irony overwhelms me. Had she lived, I don’t think Adrienne would have ever been suicidal again … melancholy—sure … willing to end her own life—no.

So I wonder what will happen to Charlie … will this terrible tragedy lead to some sort of epiphany? Or will he look in the mirror after months of reconstructive surgery and reach for the nearest razor blade? I don’t have the answers, but having been there myself, I don’t want Charlie to be in pain. So you do whatever you need to do Charlie, no matter what you decide—we will always love you.

AWW — XoXo

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I’m sure you’ve heard the proverbs “The early bird gets the worm” or “Early to bed, early to rise, makes a man healthy, wealthy, and wise.” (Supposedly, Ben Franklin said the latter one.) My entire life I’ve been told I should go to sleep early, but I’ve wanted to stay up late for as long as I can remember.

When I was nine years old, I would “go to bed” around 8:30/9:00. My mother worked graveyard shift at the hospital, and my father (before the divorce) never bothered to check on me so I stayed up and read. Two hours later, I would walk into the living room and give my father a complete review of the book. He usually grumbled about me staying up too late, but I don’t think he cared too much since I spent the entire time reading. Plus, those late hours were our only time together. No mother, no brother (this was many years before my sister Adrienne). After listening to me discuss my book and then quizzing me on random world history facts that I couldn’t possibly know, my father and I would watch TV shows like Soap and Barney Miller. I may have gone to school with dark circles under my eyes, but nothing can replace what would become some of my happiest childhood memories.

Now I’m adult who has spent years struggling to wake up early with the rest of the world. I remember staying up all night once in college just to see the sun rise (definitely not my idea), and all I could think was This is it? A couple of streaks of yellow in the sky? Give me a smog-infused LA sunset any day over this morning crap. I promptly went to sleep afterward and have done my best to avoid sunrises ever since. Don’t get me wrong. I’ve woken up before dawn to go skiing, to catch a plane, and even to drive to work, but I HATE IT. No amount of coffee will ever make me love or even appreciate what the morning has to offer. The only time I’ve woken up at 6am without an alarm clock was on my honeymoon in Australia (my husband, a morning person, was thrilled), but the jet lag quickly wore off in three days.

However, I found myself in the most unusual situation last month. After many months of unemployment, I managed to get two jobs that allow me to work from home. I make my own schedule. Suddenly, it occurred to me. What if I just allowed my body to do what it wants? What if I just see what happens? I don’t sleep well anyway—especially when I force myself to go to bed early. Guess what happened? I’m sleeping approximately seven hours a night from 2am – 9am, and I LOVE IT. Sometimes I have restless nights that cause me to wake up every 2.5 hours, but that’s typical for me. But usually, I’m sleeping almost seven hours without the use of sleep aids, and that’s a miracle for an insomniac like me. I believe it’s because I’m going with my body’s natural rhythm instead of against it.

So while I admire those of you who are able to get up early in the morning, I also challenge you. How is my seven hours of sleep different from yours? (If you go to bed at 10pm and wake up at 5am for instance.) I accomplish many things late at night (grading, blogging, critiquing resumes (i.e. job stuff), etc.). I’m also able to spend time with our weird cat Marinol who is extremely nocturnal; he wakes up around midnight and plays all night long. I love not feeling guilty about the time I go to bed. I love curling up with a good book the way I used to when I was a kid. I love not forcing sleep. The best part about my new regimen is that I don’t take naps anymore. I used to take them all the time because I was so tired, but now that I sleep when my body wants to I don’t seem to need them.

So … if the early bird catches the worm … then the night owl eats it while sipping a glass of red wine and reading a good book.

AWW — XoXo

Posted under General & Health & Relationships | 3 Comments »

The MRI was normal.

I hit someone on the freeway today because I was distracted—too deep in my own thoughts.

DAMN.

No one was hurt, but of course, I found the one person on the 101 with a brand new car. ARGH.

AWW — XoXo

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Today I will find out the results from the MRI I had on Tuesday, which was an experience in and of itself. I felt like Hannibal Lecter trapped in a Salvador Dali nightmare. Did I mention it was an MRI of my brain? Anyway, I’m sure it will be “normal” and once again, the only known cause for my increasing migraines will be “stress.” ARGH.

When I’m not sleeping, I’m sleeping—even if I’m awake. I walk around half-dazed most of the time too stressed to pay much attention to the world around me. The only time I “wake up” is when I teach and when I volunteer (i.e. when I’m in charge). I probably should not be driving.

AWW — XoXo

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I don’t know what actual drowning feels like (well there was that one incident when I was a child but that’s not relevant here), but I know how I feel when the darkness pushes down on me. I feel heavy—to lift my legs is an effort. To get out of bed is an effort. To see people is an effort. Drowning in the depths of depression—so deep no amount of pills or therapy can help. The only cure is a the desire to escape so I start swimming my way back to the top even though I can’t see the surface of the water yet. I hate the vague murkiness; I want to see the clean water, the bright sun, the blue sky. But first, I must move my limbs and crawl through the darkness even though I cannot see where I am going. I have to trust myself that I can make it out alive.

AWW — XoXo

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That’s what one of my coworkers just said. “I believe toxic emotions cause cancer.” She wasn’t speaking to me; she was standing near my desk though. It took all the willpower I had not to jump out of my chair and say, “You’re wrong. Cells growing out of control cause cancer. If toxic emotions caused cancer, then every negative person in the world would be ill.”

A highly intelligent, older woman made that statement. I want to shake her and scream, “Toxic emotions didn’t kill my sister. Cancer did. Cancer caused by hepatitis.” I won’t touch her, of course—that would be assault.

I don’t know what is harder to deal with: the fact that my coworker believes what she said or that Adrienne believed the same thing.

AWW — XoXo

Posted under Adrienne & Health | No Comments »

Just once I want to know what it feels like to lie down, close my eyes, fall into a deep, dreamless sleep, and then wake up feeling refreshed and rested—like the character in the children’s book Caps for Sale. I dread going to bed because I know I will lie there unable to turn off my brain.

Tonight in less than five minutes, these thoughts flooded my head: Will J.K. Rowling actually kill Harry Potter (Don’t tell me!)?; Maybe I should sum up the Howard letter (at work) by emphasizing his philanthropic interests instead of specific charities; God, my neck hurts from reading without moving for two hours; Will I finish Chapter 17 (in my memoir) this Saturday so I can email it to my mentor?; Are Winston’s hips (my beloved English Mastiff) still hurting tonight?; Corey sounds so peaceful when he sleeps; and I wish Little Bit (cat) would stop kneading my stomach because it already hurts.

I can’t turn it off without medication, which I hate to take. Sometimes I will swallow the dreaded pill—usually when I haven’t slept well for days. I just lie there and think. About everything. Then I pray to Adrienne like I do every night. Then I think some more. I hate these thoughts that won’t stop as they zip around, neverending since they seem to prefer a circular path. Help.

AWW — XoXo

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