When Things Go Wrong As They Sometimes Will

When things go wrong, as they sometimes will ... It's a line from one of my favorite inspirational pieces, the poem Don't Quit. It felt appropriate for this post.

Eight years ago this week, the last week of January 2007, my marriage ended. Or rather, it officially, unofficially ended (we were officially divorced a year later). On January 26, 2007, I packed up my things in a rudimentary fashion - whatever I could fit into a suitcase for the time being - and I moved out of the house in Merchantville, New Jersey that I had shared with my husband for the past three and a half years.

There was no blow up fight, no storming out, no grand finale of sorts. The night before we'd had a serious, mature, important but friendly talk - one that we'd agreed earlier in the day was needed. It was no surprise for either of us. In fact, we'd taken a vacation to Brazil over Christmas and New Years just weeks before, and despite it being one of our best trips, we talked about how it may well be our last together. We were prepared, or as prepared as anyone can be for the end of their marriage. In retrospect, I think everyone's about as prepared for the end of their marriage as they were for the beginning of it, which is to say, not at all. We'd talked, I'd cried, despite being the one who wanted this ending more, he'd held me.  It was, ironically, the closest we'd felt to each other probably in a couple of years. We didn't hate each other. We didn't even dislike each other. We were friends even, at least for a while, though we have since lost touch. But we just didn't want to be married to each other. Or rather, I didn't want to be in the marriage and my misery made him understand that it was best for us not to be together. I had no doubt he would have stayed if I had. He loved me much more than I gave him credit for - I know that now, though I didn't see it then. As I gathered my things, for the first time ever, I saw him cry. He told me he felt like a piece of his soul was dying. My ex-husband may be many things, but poetic and outwardly emotional are not among them by any means. For that reason, that single sentence has stayed with me. While it has occasionally, over the years, made me feel guilty, I'm glad to remember it. It reminds that things weren't always bad with him which, after a divorce, even one as amicable as ours, can be tough to remember.

Life is queer with its twists and turns... Cinn (my dog) and I restarted our lives in a one-bedroom apartment. We adjusted nicely, and after a year and a half I met my now-ex fiance. I fell madly in love with someone who was in many ways so different from my ex-husband. He was my partner, my other half, and I thought I had found the rest of my life. In the end, we broke each others' hearts. Or rather, the situation did. I left my marriage because there wasn't enough love on my end. I believe, ultimately, my engagement ended because there was so much love that it became toxic.

As every one of us sometimes learns... Cinn and I restarted our lives again. I started casually dating a friend of mine. Like those before him, it was his differences that attracted me. He was my continually positive cheerleader and believed in me even when I didn't.  I ended up hurt and I blame myself for much of that - he'd warned me all along, and as usual, I thought I could make it right if I tried really, really hard. At heart, I'm a fixer. One would think that after a divorce and a broken engagement I would realize that I didn't have this power, but it appears I'm a slow learner. Or perhaps a hopeless romantic. Probably a little of both. Like the times before, there was no bad blood. We were friends, as we always had been.

I took a break from dating, and everyone that cared about me said "thank the dear lord". I spent time growing my circle of girl friends for pretty much the first time since middle school - I've always been one of the guys and had just a couple of close girl friends, but I actually managed a circle of girlfriends who didn't make me want to strangle them for being too girly.

After significant girl friends time, I decided I didn't think men were the devil incarnate and decided to date again. I met my current boyfriend. We clicked right away, and began spending a lot of time together. A couple months later I met his son. I fell in love with them both. Today, I find it ironic that the issue of children was one of the driving factors of my divorce, yet this little boy has now so stolen my heart and having him in my life seems so natural.

This past spring, as all things do, life came almost full circle. I moved from Philly back to Jersey into a house with my boyfriend, his son, and our two dogs. We had a real Christmas tree this past holiday and hosted Christmas morning, something I'd never done even when married. This past year I also started working part time for a conference center - still also doing my travel business - and once again work a job with coworkers, where I have to report at a certain time and have a manager, just like I had when I got married. I'm growing in this job and loving it more every day (I don't think my coworkers read this, so this isn't BS, I swear).

Life isn't perfect. It's never perfect. If it were, it wouldn't be life. We wouldn't be living and learning and growing. I wouldn't want a perfect life. I'd be constantly looking over my shoulder wondering when it was going to turn, and quite honestly, knowing me, I'd probably be bored. I wouldn't change the things that have happened in my life. And I say "have happened", but honestly, I was an active part of many of them them. I chose to be in each of the situations above, I chose my actions in them and my reactions to them. I didn't choose everything that happened in them, but I chose to learn from them. Now, eight years after I walked out of my house and my marriage, I'm finding myself once again. After years of feeling lost, I feel like I've come back. I hope, this time, I'm here to stay.

You never can tell how close you are
It may be near when it seems so far
So stick to your fight when you're hardest hit 
It's when things seem the worst that you must not quit. 

Don't Tell Me I'm Not Resilient - A Response to an Infuriating Article

A friend recently brought to my attention an article about resilience, and the fact that it indicated that people were either depressed OR resilient, but seemingly impossible of being both. I'm always interested in mental health themed information, and aggravated about how the media butchers it, and so I read. I was immediately disturbed by the fact that it was an article on PBS/WHYY. This is channel/station that I've generally respected and enjoyed for being educational, and actually educational in the downfall of so many other channels that sensationalized and celebritized (is that a word?) "education" ... Ahem, I'm looking at you, A&E, and basically all publicly broadcasted News programs. But I digress. Back to the article itself.

Before I continue, let me say that the this article begins with a story about a local woman who survived a violent childhood and being kidnapped in Somalia as an adult. The fact that she is still alive, let alone sharing her story, is a most certainly a testament to her resilience, and anything I say here is in no way to take away from the horrific experiences she's had and her ability to pull through them. She is heroic and courageous and in fact, it's not she who says anything that upsets me in the least. She actually discusses the dark place she was in, and pulling out of it. She herself at no point that I see here uses the word resilient, nor furthers the stigma about depression. It is, rather, everyone else that seems to have a hand in this article that does that.

Basically, the theme of the article is that when going through something difficult/terrible/terrifying, you can either become depressed or resilient. Like it's choice. Like if you just had an attitude adjustment, you could be resilient instead of depressed. Statements like this one, describing a test in which people are looking at a computer and matching emotions to pictures of faces they're show, fill the article.

“The idea is, someone who is depressed is biased towards picking up negative emotion, and against positive emotion,” Elliot says. “We expect to see the opposite in people who are resilient.”

Depressed people pick negative. Resilient people pick the opposite. The fact that they use these two as counter-examples is enough in and of itself to state their point - depressed people and resilient people are not one in the same. They continue this type of talk, describing how people can go through terrible things and yet they're not depressed, while others are. Let me clue them in on some brain science: that's because depression is about chemistry and genetics, a**holes. It's not a choice, it's not an attitude, it's not smiling and looking on the sunny side vs "woah is me". 

I have one thing (in addition to the expletive above) to say to both the researchers that stated these "facts" and the people that chose to commit it to paper... er, screen... as if it were true: you clearly have no idea what depression actually is. So, let me tell you about depression and resilience. 

Every single day we go through the exact same world as you do - except with a genetic, medical, physical condition that makes it tough, sometimes excruciating, to get out of bed, get dressed, shower, eat, go to work, interact, feel any emotion, think straight, focus, and do everything else that's required. Some days everything we're doing feels meaningless, life feels pointless, and we feel worthless. BUT WE DO IT ANYWAYS. Every day.  And not just because we have to, but because we are pushing through, hour by hour, sometimes minute by minute or second by second. Just as Ms. Lindhout describes she did during her ordeal. She doesn't say "I jumped for joy each day; life seemed wonderful." She says: 

"And I never knew if I could make it through the day. So I would break it down and ask myself, ‘Can I get through the next minute?’ ”

In other words, she did exactly as I've described above. Exactly what people with depression, and other mental health conditions, do all the time. Break it down to the smallest possible piece you can and get through, because that's all you can do. Yet she's resilient, and we're not? Bullshit. 

Help Me Embarrass Myself in the Name of Suicide Prevention

As I've mentioned previously, I've signed up for the Out of Darkness Overnight Walk for suicide prevention and awareness again this year. I've already written a blog asking for donations and explaining the cause. Asking for money is always tough for me - even for such a worthwhile, and literally life-saving cause. So, inspired a bit by the ALS ice bucket challenge (naysayers, please hold your tongues here, I've also written a blog asking people to stop being so negative about that), I thought it would be easier to ask for money if I created some sort of challenge myself.

I tried to come up with something creative, but it seems my creativity is limited to the written word, and perhaps things such as vision boards and photo books. However, I have a lot of creative friends and family, and also a lot of friends and family that would thoroughly enjoy watching me embarrass myself. So given that, I thought it would be me more fun if I let you guys come up with the challenges.

Here are the rules:

1. Create a challenge that you'd like to see me do, along with the dollar amount that you'll donate to my cause if I complete it.

2. If I choose to accept the challenge, I will attempt it, and video it as proof.

3. If I complete it, you then donate the money to my walk fund as promised.

4. If I attempt and am for some reason unable to complete it successfully, you can choose to still donate anyways (A for effort kind of thing) or create another challenge for me to attempt for the same amount.

5. I will post the videos of the challenges on social media, and if you'd like, your name as the challenger. You can choose if you'd like me to post your donated amount or not. I will only post information you'd like me to. If you'd prefer nothing be posted (including the video), I can send you the video via text or email to confirm that I completed the challenge.

Now, the rules for the actual challenge proposals:

1. It cannot be anything that could lose me my job/clients.

2. It cannot be illegal or immoral (this includes eating meat, people. Personally, for myself, I have a moral aversion to eating meat).

3. It doesn't have to be funny. It can be anything you choose. People just tend to like to see me embarrass myself, so I figure they'll trend in that direction.

4. It cannot negatively affect another human or living being.

5. I must be fully clothed, or at least clothed enough that rule numbers 1 and 2 are still applicable. (e.g. I'll not go streaking Old School style through the neighborhood.)

6. It should be something I at least have a chance of physically being able to do - I'm 5'0 in heels. I will never be able to slam dunk a basketball without some sort of assistance.

I will accept challenges via this blog, on Facebook, Twitter, email, or text (if I know you personally). If you are super nice, and don't want to see me embarrass myself, you are welcome to just donate, of course. Whether you request a challenge or not, here is the link for donation.

Thanks in advance, and I look forward (or not!) to seeing what you all come up with! 

Things You Want to Know About Mental Health But Are Afraid to Ask - Part 2

A while back, I wrote the part one of this blog. I have found that not everyone who is uneducated about mental health wants to be so. There is a lot of information and propaganda out there (by "there", I mean the internet and media) and it can be hard to tell the accurate from the total crap. There's so much BS in the public eye about how those with mental illness are dangerous people who go on shooting sprees at schools, act like animals, and should be locked away (see NAMI's response to such comments from both Dr. Phil and NBC's Brian Williams), that it's easy for people to unintentionally start forming a negative opinion, a stigma.

Often, I find that it's not that people are intentionally ignorant, purposely and steadfastly believing these kinds of falsities, as it is that they're afraid to ask. It's been taboo. It's something people have so long swept under the rug, not discussed about themselves or others, that it's thought poor form to ask about - like asking one's weight or age. We can't clear up these stigmas unless we talk about them, and since people seem afraid to ask, I feel it's my role to go ahead and take the initiative. So, here you have part two of Things You Want to Know About Mental Health But Are Afraid to Ask.

• Does your condition make you angry? Violent? Angry, yes. Violent, no. Not unless you count hitting a pillow in frustration, which, by the way, is a therapist approved technique for anger and energy release. It's NOT the same as hitting a person or an animal or any other living being. It's more like, say, going to a boxing class or hitting a heavy bag. People do this all the time, for fun, and we don't say "oh that person takes cardio kickboxing, they must be violent!" If you actually look at the facts, very few people with mental health conditions display the type of violence that the media likes to portray. And there are PLENTY of horrendously violent people who do not have a diagnosed mental health condition. What does the media have to say about them? 

• What does depression feel like? Are you always really sad? No, actually. Or rather, not for me personally. Depression is like any other medical condition - it exhibits itself a bit differently in each person. For me, it's not sadness. It's nothingness. I simply don't care. I don't care what I look like or what I'm doing or what I'm eating. I don't feel happy, but I don't feel sad. I just don't feel. It's like something came in and sucked out my emotions, leaving a giant, empty void in its place. It's a thousand times more scary, and debilitating, than actual sadness. 

• What's the worst thing about having a mental health condition? Ummm, everything, pretty much. But I would say the trouble that I have had finding myself at times, and the fact that I see the world so differently than so many people, is toughest to deal with. I've come to know the symptoms of my depression, hypomania, anxiety. With medication, therapy, writing, yoga, meditation, and a host of other factors (like a regular sleep, meal, and workout schedule), I can generally manage that. Generally. But feeling lost, at times like you don't know who you are, like you don't recognize yourself, like you have this "real" self that's buried so far down that people don't actually believe it's real, is very tough. Feeling like nobody sees the world the way you do, like you're alone in a crowd of thousands, is very lonely. 

• How do you feel about medication? Yippee! Woo hoo! Seriously, medication has helped me tremendously. I resisted for a long time, determined to fix it on my own. Then I actually got diagnosed.When my condition was explained to me, I realized it was a medical condition, lifelong, and that I'd be dealing with it every single day. I accepted that, like with any other medical condition, sometimes you need medication.  I've never looked back. I'm thankful every single day that there are meds that help me. Some aren't so lucky. Some people never find a medication that works for them, or have side effects so bad that they'd rather deal with their cycling. I have been, knock on wood, very lucky thus far with my medications. 

• What are the side effects of medication? As I said above, as far as mental health medications go, my side effects are pretty "minor". I put that in quotes because everything's relative. I get nauseous, dizzy, disoriented, continually exhausted. My tongue and lips and occasionally my hands and feet get that numb, pins and needles feeling after I take my meds. I sweat like hell when I sleep, which is an all-too-common side effect of these types of meds. I run the risk of hyponatremia, or low blood sodium which, at it's worse, can cause seizures and at it's best makes me feel nauseous, dizzy, and disoriented (on top of those same effects of the medication). There's also the very rare risk of developing Stevens-Johnson syndrome, a potentially fatal skin rash, though it's not a side effect that I've ever lost sleep over, the chance is so slim. Like I said, in the grand scheme, not so bad. Seriously. 

• What's therapy like? Will you always have to go? It's amazing. It allows me to talk to someone, tell them anything and everything, without them judging or having any bias. Let's face it, most of our friends and family are biased in our direction, as they should be. In my therapist, I have an objective ally; we both want the same thing - for me to live a happy, healthy life - and she has the tools and training to tell me when I'm going astray of that goal, even if it's not what I want to hear. Will I always have to go? I don't know, maybe. But if I do, that's ok with me. 

Have a question? Feel free to ask. I'm not shy, and I am happy to answer questions as best as I can. As a necessary CYA disclaimer, I'm not a medical doctor nor am I a licensed psychologist/counselor. I speak strictly from my experience and the experience I have in helping oversee an online support group for mental health. So go ahead, throw 'em at me. If you'd like to ask incognito, feel free to email them to me or Facebook message my Lilies and Elephants page (you can also post as "anonymous"). 

Looking For the Silver Lining

I write often about the negatives of having a mental health condition. Because honestly, there are many negatives, and I think it's important to be open and honest about them - how else can we fight stigma. However, having cyclothymia has been a significant learning experience, and while I do not want to use the word positive in conjunction with having a chronic, lifelong medical condition, I have to say, I've made some strides personally that I'm not sure I would have if it wasn't for the every day battle of mood cycling.

• I've learned to have a sense of humor about myself. How can you not? The options are to laugh at yourself first, or have other people do it for you. I've learned that when you call yourself out on all of your quirks, your behaviors, your symptoms, etc, it takes the power away from anyone who was planning to use it against you. And so, you laugh. 

• I have learned not to take little things for granted. It's amazing to wake up and not feel depressed or hypomanic.  It's fantastic to go into a social setting and not feel like the walls are closing in. It feels wonderful to laugh, to cry happy tears instead of sad ones. I know people who have lost loved ones to the battle of depression and mood cycling. I am thankful every day that I am still alive. I have now made suicide awareness and prevention one of my greatest causes. 

• I have learned to be myself. I don't see the world the way others do, and vice versa. I used to try. Now I just say &%*^ it, this is me. Like it or don't. It's a shame if you don't, but you know what? I can't change the way you think. I can only change my reaction to it. And my reaction these days is to say, "I'm sorry we can't see eye to eye on our opinions of me." 

• I have made friends in the mental health community that I never would have been in touch with otherwise. We've bonded over tweets, texts, and online groups, often because we literally live thousands of miles apart. Many times, these are the only people who I can talk to when I have a bad cycle that will truly understand. They can empathize, instead of just sympathize. These wonderful people would never have come into my life but for my cyclothymia. 

• I have learned that, as the saying goes, everyone is fighting their own battle. I've been judged and stigmatized for mine. I refuse to do that to others. Now, I'm much more able to say "I know that person was a jerk to me, but maybe he/she is going through something really rough. Maybe they have no confidence and therefore have to put me down to feel good. That's a shame. I feel sorry for him/her." I can distance myself from it more easily and look at the whole picture instead of casting blame. 

• I have learned to express myself creatively. There are people who are against the "mood cyclers are more creative" thought, and I can understand that. People don't want to connect their disease to themselves intrinsically. But I personally feel that, if it isn't specifically linked to my creative genes, it's helped me to open them up. By accepting my condition, I've allowed my brain to expand in directions I hadn't before, and I've embraced it.  The directions in which my brain extends cause enough trouble - I might as well let it be advantageous where it can.

Do not think, for a second, that I enjoy having cyclothymia. It sucks, to be plain honest. I battle it every day of my life, and will continue to do so until the day I die. But when you are diagnosed with a condition such as this, you have two choices: you can throw a pity party, wish you were "normal", and constantly try to combat it, or you can embrace it, and get what good you can from it. To me, it's a clear choice... live my life feeling frustrated and inferior, or grow from it. I've chosen the latter. 

The Ups and Downs of 2014

Ups and downs. Mood cycling. Get it? I can't pass up a pun, even if it's at my own expense. Cheesiness aside, 2014 was filled with a lot of action, and I thought it worth writing about.

If you have read my blog for any length of time, or even if you just know me in general, you probably know there are two things I don't much believe in: major regrets, and New Year's Resolutions. The first is because, quite simply, all of my decisions, both the good and the "how 'bout we not try that again", have lead me to where I am today. And overall, despite all my quirks, my struggles, and at least one or two pretty significant life disappointments, I'm pretty proud of who I am. If I were to know how my life would unfold (i.e. people ask me all the time if I'd have gotten married knowing I'd be divorced three years later), I wouldn't change it. To do so would discount the experiences, and the people, that those parts of my life included, and I refuse to do that. And New Year's resolutions? Well, quite frankly, isn't it better to create life goals, both big and small, and then actually make a plan - which includes things I can do this year, this month, and even this week - to help me get there? At the end of the day, where does "I'm going to lose 10 pounds" or "I'm going to spend less money" really get me, other than the extra expense of a gym membership or some financial self-help books, if I don't have a plan to go along with them?

So I thought that instead, I'd do a year in review.  I think it's important to include big things and less seemingly momentous occasions (life is made up of little moments), lessons learned, and discoveries about myself and life. As usual, my messy brain is putting them in no particular order.

• I moved out of Philly after four years, and moved into a house (my first in seven years!) with my boyfriend, his son, and our two dogs. It's nice to be able to do home-y, family things, like have a real, full-sized Christmas tree! 

• I started a permanent part-time position at CHF and remember once more what it's like to have a manager, coworkers, and a schedule that requires you to be at work at a certain time in clothing that doesn't include PJs. I realized how much I was missing the routine and camaraderie of this type of job. I have also realized strengths that I'd forgotten I have (turns out I'm a spreadsheet master and an eagle-eyed proofreader). 

• We had a Northen family reunion in St. Simon's, Georgia, in which I got to spend a week with my parents, siblings, and all of the nieces and nephews. I have an incredibly close family, and this was one of the highlights of my year. 

• I started re-learning how to snowboard, and as a result now actually enjoy the winter instead of just counting down the days until the ground thaws. It also afforded me some of the best times of the year with a good friend, and established some new traditions. 

• Cinn turned 10. I hate that she's getting older, and it made me pretty sad, but she's still running around as much as she did as a pup... though she wasn't a very active pup either. 

• My condition was more troubling than it has been in years, possibly ever. I felt like I cycled more frequently and more rapidly, and my social anxiety has gotten worse (I didn't really used to have social anxiety until the past few years). This made this year very tough for me, and most likely for those around me. 

• I cried. A lot. Sometimes for no known reason, or at least no reason I knew consciously. The crying wasn't always because I was sad. Sometimes it was just a tension release, needed to un-muddle my head. 

• I took a lot of time for self discovery. I needed it, and I think I'll continue to need it. I learned that I haven't been taking as good care of my mental health as I'd like to, and began to do so more. I learned that I need more time to myself than I used to, and that often that time involves reading or writing, as it lets me "escape" the mess of my brain for a while. 

• Speaking of writing, I started writing my first novel. It's pretty exciting, as I've never written fiction much before and previously thought it something I wasn't much capable of, but it's coming along nicely (I think). 

• I found some confidence in these last few months. I stopped letting other people's opinions of me dictate how I felt about myself. It's amazing what this will do, and it finally just clicked for me one day. I realized that our lives are dictated by our choices, and by nobody else's. We choose how to act, react, and respond, and once you actually "get" that, it's pretty empowering. 

• I became a godmother. SO COOL. 

• I turned 35. I was dreading it, for reasons that I wrote about here. It didn't hit as hard as I thought it would. Perhaps that's due to all of the mental preparation. 

There are entirely too many moments to list. These are just a few that stick out most in my mind. I have no doubt that they will influence my 2015, and that the year to come will have it's own share of important occasions. For the time being, Happy New Year! May your year in review 365 days from now be filled with more happy moments than sad, and if I am a part of them, I hope to be a positive one. 

Celebrating A Life

December 17th. Today would have been my Grandma Ventura's 88th birthday. My grandma passed away six years ago, though it feels at times like much longer. It feels like a lifetime since we used to greet her at the airport gate, her bags filled with her trademark zucchini bread and small gifts for us. In a way, it was a lifetime ago - these days, she'd have to make her way through Philadelphia International on her own and meet us at the baggage claim, and they'd probably search her zucchini bread to make sure it wasn't a cover for some sort of hazardous material.

To me, the best way to honor someone is not to mourn their loss, but to celebrate their life. And sometimes, it's the little things, the memories you almost forget until the smell of their favorite cookies permeates the air, the sweater you see in their favorite shade of mauve, or the funny anecdote that is so quintessentially "them". So I thought I'd share some moments that remind me of my grandma so well, as a way to celebrate her life on her birthday. Many of these are from childhood and adolescence, as we spent the majority of our holidays with her during those days, but some are more or less timeless.

• Pulling up to grandma's house in the middle of the night and her waiting there with zucchini bread and Italian Wedding soup for us (no soup for me, it has meatballs, but it smelled great). I always wondered how someone that "old" could be up that late. In retrospect, she was probably in her 50s. Now that I'm 35 and rarely make it past 10:30 PM, I really wonder how someone in their 50s could be up that late. 

• Walking with her from our house to the Town House restaurant when she came to visit. She loved taking me and my brother out to eat when we were younger. It was a small thing, but it was "our thing".

• Her joke book. Grandma loved to tell jokes but wasn't great at them. She'd keep the jokes written in a book, categorized by topic, so that she could reference them when she wanted to use one. Sometimes she didn't get the jokes herself. There was a very inappropriate one about a sheep that she had categorized under "cute animal jokes" (I sincerely hope she never used this at a party). 

• Her bringing my brother a Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtle flashlight that was shaped like a gun, and it getting confiscated at the airport as potentially dangerous. This was well before 9/11, which made it all that more ridiculous. 

• The year she came down for Christmas and we didn't have the heart to tell her we'd stopped going to mass years ago. We drove around for a half hour trying to find the church in our own town, making up excuses as to why we couldn't find it. If she caught on, she never said a word.

• Me and her singing a duet of "There is a chapel in the town" (not sure of the actual name of the song) for the family talent show on vacation. 

• Her horrendously grumpy cat, Chuckie. The scary cat meme has nothing on him. How a nice, gentle woman like my grandma bonded with this cat, I'll never know. 

• Being one of the first ones awake in the morning and going downstairs to her room to see if she was up (we were both morning people). Sometimes, it would be just the two of us up for a while. 

• Sitting in the green and orange recliners in her living room, listening to Harry Belefante on the record player. 

• Her bell collection. Especially the dinner bell. No matter where you were in the house, you came running to the table when she rang that bell. Being allowed to ring it for her was a treat.

• Going to Washington, D.C. with her and attending mass at the National Cathedral. My brother and I got our portrait sketched by a street artist named Thomas Murdock. My parents still have the sketch in their house. 

• Cuccidatis, guiguilenis, pupa ca lovas, and rock cookies (tiny portions of fruit cake passed off as cookies). I needn't say more, because if you don't have a Sicilian grandma, you have no idea what I'm talking about, and if you do, you know exactly what I'm talking about. Feel free to google them. They're delicious (well, maybe not the fruit cake cookies). 

There's plenty that I'm forgetting. I'd love for my family to add their own memories in the comments. 

Happy Birthday, Grandma. I know that what you would have wanted most of all was to have a happy, healthy family, whose generations carried on the love and closeness that you worked so hard to foster. Looking at your children, and their children, and their children's children, I can honestly say, you would be very happy, and very proud.