Angela B. Chrysler's Blog, page 3

The Healing Garden… Chapter #3

I feel like… As a Multiple, I just went into my head. And there, in my head, there was no pain. In fact, in my head I could do anything. Be anything. And I was… but mostly, in my head, I was safe. And that made it really hard to leave.

The situation outside only got worse, while things in my head… depending on where I went, got better. I built castles and gardens in my head. I could fly or swim. I could sing and dance. And I did. I stayed in my head for so long that it became it’s own reality. And it made me dysfunctional.

***

“Bergen. I don’t want to do this,” I said and sat on the floor.

“Why not?” he asked, peering at me from across the kitchen.

“Why does any of it matter!?” I rubbed my hand over my face. “I feel like… I can’t ever be happy no matter how close to having the life I want…”

“Maybe happiness doesn’t come from having the life you want.”

I paused and looked at him.

“What?”

He shrugged.

“Maybe, happiness isn’t dependent upon the life you want. A lot of people think that happiness is about the things you have and the money you have. That’s an easy one… it isn’t. They think it’s about having the right job or the right relationship… They think it’s about having the right balance of things… But a relationship and a job… those things are still just things.”

“True happiness,” Imagination said from the table. “is there whether or not the relationship changes or stays. True happiness is independent from relationships, jobs, people, and places…”

“Then…” I pondered for a moment from my place on the floor. Unable to grasp. “Why have those things? I feel like they then serve no purpose. I’m tired of not knowing this! I’m tired of the unset. I’m tired of the moods and emotions shifting with each subtle change. I want to be stable. I want someone to support me when I’m low. I want… I still live in my head. And so long as I live in my head, talking to you… I don’t live there, in the real world, in the present. I can’t be in both places at the same time.”

I sighed and laid down on the floor. I felt defeated. I felt exhausted. I needed to learn how to shut off the Shadow work. I had been doing nothing else all my life. Since I was 15 years.

“I’m tired of all the mental work, Bergen. I feel like I’ll fall apart if I don’t work to hold it all together.”

“Anna.”

I peered up from the floor.

“Be who you want to be. Just become it and do it.”

I listened. I heard. Truth was, there was too much pain to just “do.”

“I need to deal with this, Bergen. But…” I sighed and a tear slipped from my eye. “I feel like there is always so much pain I have to deal with. I cry. I do the Shadow Work. I need comfort. And I need comfort from my Mate, but… I’ve tapped that well dry and there is still more pain and more comfort.”

“Maybe, you are using the comfort to not actually heal and address the pain,” Bergen said.

“Maybe comfort is the avoidant,” Kallan said.

“You have to process this, Joanna,” Imagination said.

“Process this…” I whispered. “I want to scream out to the world. I want to be validated and heard, and I crave to be understood. That my parents abused me so horribly with neglect and indifference and disapproval, and they let others abuse me so horribly that it broke my mind into pieces all because they were so desperate for me to not become the very thing they made me into! And now, not only did they break my mind… Not only did they not avoid the thing they dreaded the most… but they caused it! All because they tried to beat and shame who and what I am out of me! Did you hear me?” I screamed at the room, glaring at Bergen through my tears. “They beat and shamed who and what I am out of me until my mind was in pieces!”

Pieces. The word resonated and I burst into tears.

And there it was. I was staring at the pieces in front of me. Bergen, the man my father wanted me to be. Kallan, the BDSM, sex-loving Mistress who dripped feminine power. Goddess, the Vegetarian and Feminist. The free-spirited, weed-smoking, nudist Hippie. And me… I was the left-overs. The parts of me that my father didn’t approve of, and the only parts left that he didn’t reject. The obedient, complacent, hard-working, silent puppet on strings. I hate puppets. I’ve always hated puppets. Now I knew why. I was one.

“I have always felt like the left overs. The parts of my whole that my father tolerates. Why do I need this so much? Why do we need our parental approval so much? I feel like my identity is contingent on that stamp of approval from my father and my mother.”

Bergen kneeled beside me and squeezed my hand.

“I love sex,” I said. “I love physical pleasure, and I don’t think that’s wrong. I can’t be a wife. I’m not a marriage material. No…” I shook my head. That wasn’t the right perspective. “I’m not… Conformist, right-wing material. I’m not marriage or wife material as defined by Traditionalists. I can’t be what they want, and I’m just the remnants of their abuse mixed with all the things they hate the most. And all my life, I’ve been oozing the parts of me I suppressed.”

“When you danced in the moonlight,” Imagination said. “Dressed in gossamer and rain.”

“When you stepped into the Dungeon and you found your strength,” Kallan said.

“When you soap box and rant… even now, your theater comes out,” Bergen said. “You crave the stage. You always will. And you’re still suppressing it.”

“Almost all hurt can be healed through the written word,” I said. “It’s why Hemmingway wrote so much.”

“Bleed here, Anna,” Imagination said. “Let the pages take your pain. They can handle it. And those who read it, can decide how much they can take in. But stop talking about your pain. Write, Anna. It calls to you.”

I nodded. I knew what to do.

The Healing Garden… Chapter #2

“I remembered nothing before I was 8 years old.”

I had said the words in Broken back in 2015. I had no idea. It never occurred to me. I never caught on how unusual that is. Today, it all makes sense. Today, the pieces are finally together like a puzzling I’ve been assembling all my life without understanding the picture I was building.

23 July 2022, my last piece clicked into place, and I understood it all.

It was my brother who started it. Charles had tortured and killed the animals. Too many times I watched him rip them apart and threw the pieces at me. I stood, helpless at 5 years old. I couldn’t over power him. I couldn’t do anything. I could only cry and beg him to stop.

But during that time and over the next 3 three years, I would come to embrace animal rights. I became so passionate about animal rights, that I refused to kill bugs. I refused to eat meat.

And my family owned the largest gun shop in all of Central New York. Their primary client were hunters. I was vocal. I was outspoken. Then, I was unbroken. I was 8, sitting in the middle of the room. Watching my grandfather sell guns to two men. They took turns boasting the killing. Boasting their hunts. I remember the anger boiling up inside of me and I… didn’t hold back. I saw them as my equal.

I opened my female, eight year old mouth and declared in one voice that I did not agree with their ethics. That animals had rights. I was a vegetarian and it was wrong to hunt and kill and eat animals. The animals had rights to live just like us, and I had a problem with them.

The room went quiet and they all turned toward me. My father, my grandfather, my three uncles and the two clients holding guns.

Instantly, the room exploded.

“You need to keep your mouth shut!”

“You need to learn some respect!”

“If you were my daughter, I’d have you over my knee!” From the gunman.

“You need to keep that girl in line!” from the gunman to my father.

“You should not say that in front of my clients!” from my Grandfather.

And one of the gunman pointed his gun at me.

We left, my father hauling me out of the gunshop as the men continued to scream down at my eight year old self. But it wasn’t over yet.

All the way home, my father screamed.

“You embarrassed me! Don’t ever say that! You need to keep your mouth shut!”

My body shook. I sobbed.

The next morning, I woke remembering none of it. I had forgotten the yelling. I had forgotten the gun pointed at me. I had even forgotten my views on animal rights. I had forgotten that I was a vegetarian.

That week, a nightmare started. A nightmare that I would dream nearly every night of my life, for the rest of my life, until I was 42. A nightmare of a doorless, stainless-steel room with me in the center surrounded by cloaked, faceless men. I would stand among them as their equal, and then they would grow tall and tower over me. Fear would overcome me, and they would shrink just as quickly back to eye level. Tall and short. My equal the towering over me filling me with fear. Then my equal again. And that nightmare playing forever on repeat.

That same week, something else began. Every meal, every time I sat down to eat food, severe nausea would overwhelm my stomach and eating became a thing I dreaded. Anxiety would build as mealtime approached and day after day, I shoveled meat into my mouth. And my subconscious screamed. That was the day that Angel started screaming.

It would take me 34 years to realize that the reason why I remembered nothing before I was 8 years old, was because that day — when those men yelled at me, when I lost all approval, acceptance, and love from every man in my family — I had become someone else. I woke up suppressing the Vegetarian and animal rights activist inside of me. That was the day I became a Multiple.

The Healing Garden… Chapter #1

I’ve come a long way in 2 years. You wouldn’t recognize me. My family doesn’t know me. At first, in 2020 when this next stage of mine started, I didn’t know what was happening to me. I had this overwhelming urge to leave. To just “get up and go,” and every day it got louder and stronger. And the first chance I got, I went.

I wandered for a time, uncertain where I was going. It would be two years before I saw the big picture and understood. Two years of transformation before I finally found the voice that was calling me.

I was 66 pounds heavier. I was locked in my own mind. A prisoner to my environment. Broken and bleeding and tethered under the abuse of my then-husband. I was born in a prison and had no idea that I was a branded slave. These last two years, I tasted freedom for the first time in my life. And the truth has been bitter-sweet.

In Broken, I showed you the room in my mind. This was a Dome. My Dome. I showed you William. I showed you Bergen (Ian in Broken). I showed you Angel, Erik, and Elizabeth, My conscious mind. And using William and Bergen, I walked you through my past and my current state of mind having no idea myself everything it was that I was showing you.

Today, 2 years later, looking back… It all makes sense.

***

Back then, I wrote to you from my Dome. Today, I’m writing to you from Brooklyn. My therapy was a nightmare. It was gruesome and the hardest thing I have ever done. In ways, it was harder than surviving the initial trauma. And I did all the therapy work while still under the abusive regime of my then-husband.

I have Multiple Personality Disorder (Today, known as DID: Dissociative Identity Disorder). I had no idea until May 2022 that I had this until one of my Alters wrote a letter to me and my Boyfriend. In 2015, I had been diagnosed with DID, but therapists are not to discuss DID until and unless the Alters reveal themselves. So nothing was said. My therapy and Shadow Work continued and I had no idea what I had inside of me until…

***

“This isn’t how you do things, Anna.”

I looked up from the floor and stared at Bergen peering down at me. I shook my head. “No. It’s not.”

“You invented William to help you transition. You just didn’t know it then, Lass.”

I nodded. I knew what I needed to do.

“Paint the scene, Lass. It’s time.”

“I’ve been here before, Bergen. So many times. I’ve tried telling them. Showing them my mind. Showing them what this looks like from the inside…”

Bergen knelt down on the wooden floor before me.

“You need us, Lass. You need all of us again. Be yourself. Do what you do. Paint the scene.”

I looked past Bergen.

“Back to the Dome,” I said and smiled. Bergen smiled back.

“Back to the Dome.”

***

A Dome is the term in DID for the place in a Multiple’s head where all our identities go to meet and convene. Here in the Dome, our personalities take shape and form and have voice. It is normal for Multiple’s to have many Domes. I have a few. My Marble Room… My Irish Cottage in the forest… my silver lake under the Parisian Opera House. The open field of flowers. The stainless steel labyrinth filled with doors. Angel’s doorless room where she lived chained naked to the floor for decades. One Dome for every identity. It’s like their home.

And when I wrote Broken, I took you to the Irish Cottage. Simple. Traditional. The white wash stone had a single red door in the front at the end of a stone foot path. The door opened to a quaint little kitchen. A table, a refrigerator where scotch and whiskey collected dust, and a gas stove. where a kettle sat.

A man’s clothes were piled on the floor. A long woolen coat draped over the back of the chair. Warmth flooded me and a smile pulled at my lip. Beyond the kitchen table, a wide archway led into a living room with a large picture window filled with plants. A piano was pushed against the wall and a book shelf pushed against the wall flanked the archway where a sectional wrapped around the room.

I knew what I had to do. I knew best how to do it.

“Anna.”

I turned and there they were. Bergen standing at 6’2”. His longsword, “Firstborn,” strapped to his back. His long black hair tied back with a bit of leather. And his shirt, gone. Always gone. I smiled. I finally knew why.

Beside him, a BDSM Mistress stood donned in a black leather corset, stern and strict, her hair flowing down her bare shoulders. A flogger hung at her hip and her leather boots with 3 inch heels climbed up her thighs. Kallan. My Witch and Fae Queen. Adam’s Fae Queen.

At the table, Goddess Imagination sat, her long blond hair flowing past her waist. Streaks of blue, purple, and pink shimmered in the gold when she moved. Her skirt, the only thing she wore, glistened like ethereal gold down to her ankles.

And a girl. Plainly dressed and silent sitting on the floor in the corner. Angel.

“I see you all now,” I said, my voice low. “I see you, and I know you.”

They smiled at me. Waiting for my queue. Waiting for me to begin.

“You know what to do, Lass,” Bergen said. “We’ve got your back. We always have your back.”

I nodded. My courage restored. A calm settled over me. It was time. Tell my story.

Hello again…

*Drops her bags on the floor and sinks to the floor.*

When did we last speak? 2 years ago? 4? You’re probably wondering where I’ve been. Curious about what I’ve been up to. What happened? Are you okay? … Those of you who had my cell number called me to check in.

I have been on Walkabout. After I wrote Broken in 2015, I began therapy. The more therapy and Shadow work I did, the deeper into my subconscious I dove until… I had to set aside my online life to focus on my shadow work.

Several times I thought I was done. Several times I sent out a newsletter, thinking it was time to come home. Each time, I was wrong. This time, I come home because… it’s time. Since May 2022, the voice in my head has spoken very loud and clear: Tell your story. It is September, and I cannot deny this anymore. It’s time to tell my story.

No books. No cryptic BS. Just my truth. If you haven’t read Broken, you may be lost. If you have read Broken… consider this the sequel. Right now… I need to bleed. I need to release the words and just get them out and pour them onto the page. Share them. Read my story. Tell others. I need a place to just syphon my pain. I need a place to release this. And since last we speak, I’ve lost my gardens.

So… This is the Healing Garden. The sequel to Broken. I ask you to please, just listen. And hopefully, you’ll take away what you need from this.

WARNING… The Healing Garden contains sensitive material. It is filled with swearing, unfiltered, graphic truth that covers rape, pedophilia, and animal abuse. Read responsibly

Out of Tissues or Toilet paper? Here’s what we’re doing!

There I was yesterday morning, sipping my coffee and racking
my brain over my latest concern: What if I can’t restock my toilet paper by the
time it runs out?

We didn’t panic buy. Oh, we felt the urge. But we didn’t
give in…much. Fortunately, we regularly keep one month’s stock of toilet paper
on hand at all times. But I had run out of tissues a week ago, I contracted the
flu (not sure which one because they won’t test me), and I was exercising control
over my newly discovered budgeting skills and so had decided to wait to buy new
tissues. I did buy two jugs of ammonia, something I never buy in a moment of
panic. I bought a small jug of lemon scent and regular.

Now, I’m watching my toilet paper dwindle. Tissues? I had
been carrying around a roll of toilet paper everywhere, but if everyone in the
house gets sick, we can’t afford to use up the butt paper as face paper. It was
when I watched my husband reach for a paper napkin then draw back sharply saying,
“No,” that I shrieked, “What are we doing!?” I jumped up and pulled out the 2
dozen cloth napkins I have had in stock for eight years. We mostly use them for
fancy dinners like Thanksgiving and Christmas. And now, every day for every
meal…and that is when my epiphany hit.

Rewind a month ago.

I had decided to stop buying the wasteful and expense Clorox cleaning wipes. When I re-budgeted for my expenses, I realized how much I was spending on wipes and decided to turn back the clock to 1985 when we used a mop bucket, diluted bleach in hot water, and a cleaning rag. Around this time, I had bought a 50 pack of microfiber rags at AutoZone for $21.00.

Coming out of my flashback, I turned to the unopened pack of
microfiber rags behind me, took them up, and slammed them happily down on the
table. Handkerchiefs! They’re as soft as Puffs lotion facial tissues and are
WASHABLE.

I thought about a rag filled with COVID-19 infested bogies
and battled back the gag reflex. I was onto something and I couldn’t afford a
weak stomach at the moment.

Paper towels? I looked at the collection of unused paint rags
we had bought for remodeling the media room in January. There! I opened the bag
and proceeded to hang them off the empty paper towel rack.  

“What about toilet paper?” My husband asked.

I then remembered a line I had read in Outlander by Diana Gabaldon last year, “We used rags in the winter time. It was actually quite comfortable.”

I quoted Claire’s line back to my husband then added, “Target
sells bundles of washcloths, 6 for $3.00.”

At this, I remembered my mother. She was obsessed with cloth diapers. I remember her changing my baby brother’s diapers. She would dump the contents into the toilet, flush, then slosh the diaper into the freshly filled toilet bowl until all that remained was a highly…contaminated…cloth diaper. She’d wring out the water, flush again, and throw the cloth into the diaper pail for washing that evening. Being squeamish is a luxury we can no longer afford. We could do this!

But the bigger issue I was soon wrestling with was how to clean…I mean CLEAN these handkerchiefs, cleaning rags, and apparently, soon to be, butt rags?

My washing machine has no hot water hook up. I wouldn’t
trust the hot water from our water heater anyway. It wasn’t to boiling point. No.
17th century cleaning rags required 17th century cleaning
methods.

“They would boil the clothes.”

I consulted the internet and, within fifteen minutes, I was
boiling my first bogie rag. It was easier than boiling pasta. I didn’t have to
watch and worry about missing the point of al dente. With some working
knowledge of chemistry and how viruses and bacteria live and die, I was well on
my way to a disinfected life style!

I boil my rags now at the end of every day. As we sit down
to eat dinner, I start up the water boiling. By then end of dinner, we throw
our napkins and bogie rags into the water. The rags are clean just as the table
is cleared and dishes washed. And my napkins have NEVER been so clean!

Here is how it’s done.

Bring your water to a boil. Add Oxy Clean or your usual laundry soap. IMPORTANT:
DO NOT BOIL BLEACH. Add the rags. Hard boil the rags for 10 minutes (Hard boil any
butt rags for 15 minutes).Use a spoon you don’t care about to push down
the clothes. Turn off the heat and then transfer the rags to
a clean bucket to cool. Rinse by hand in cold water. Throw in the dryer with a
dryer sheet or hang to dry. Done!

Here is my one disclaimer:

DISCLAIMER: SERIOUSLY! DON’T BOIL BLEACH! Bleach evaporates quickly
and you will be breathing in the evaporated bleach. DO NOT BOIL BLEACH. I MEAN
IT! IT IS DANGEROUS AND COULD KILL YOU!

One thing I quickly learned about all this was that there is
a lot of psychological hesitation that had nothing to do with the science. I
had to learn to separate the psychology of feeling squeamish from the science.
So I looked to my husband and asked, “Is this psychological or is it science?”

For those who don’t know, my husband has a master’s degree
in organic chemistry. He taught pre-med students as a grad student, and was an
EMT in Boston for three years. He has made ibuprofen, worked on cancer
research, and has been in the labs creating vaccinations for people. So, I
bombarded him with my questions.

Q: Can I boil my butt rags with my facial rags?

A: Yes. This is psychological. Dead is dead. Neither Hep C
nor Coronavirus can survive boiling temperatures. Dead is dead. Just be sure
the rags stay in the water for an additional 15 minutes if they are boiled with
butt rags. However…I can’t do it. I was facial rags first, then butt rags
second. Chemical rags get boiled first and separately.   

Q: Can I boil my “paper towel” rags used with ammonia
alongside my facial rags?

A: No. This is Science. If you use a rag to clean up a chemical
be sure you boil them separate and change out the water before you boil the facial
rags. The cleaning chemicals can contaminate the water and transfer onto the
rags you use on your face and genitals.

Q: Can I use my standard pasta pot?

A: Yes. This is psychological. Dead is dead. You can boil
your butt rags, wash the pot, then cook pasta and serve an hour later. However…again…I
can’t. If you want to go get a pot just for this, do it.

Q: After the rags are boiled do I have to throw them in the
washing machine?

A: No. This is psychological. Nothing cleans better than
boiling. A washing machine is most likely contaminated. You can, but you don’t
need to. As soon as they come out of the boiling water and have cooled down,
they are ready to use.

Some fun facts I learned along the way that went a long way
to help me out:

Bogies are water soluble. They come right off and dissolve in the water as it boils.You will see how little your washing machine ACTUALLY cleans and it may make you squeamish to ever use it again.    You may have an overwhelming urge to boil EVERYTHING in the house. Resist. If you have a 12-year-old girl, you may have a hard time keeping her away from the boiling water and taking over. Some people online said boiling the clothes stinks. The only smell I have encountered in my kitchen is the smell of laundry detergent however the stench may be because they were boiling the built up oils out of pillow cases. Boiling works REALLY well on stained pillow cases. Try it!The water WILL turn brown, black, or gray. This is NORMAL and will not harm or dye your clothes. The water changes color because fabric fibers and soap have dyes in them that are UV sensitive. Boiling soap and fabric fibers changes the molecular composition of the soaps and dyes, which changes the color. The water color will NOT dye your fabric.  Some dyes will bleed. Add ¼ cup of salt to lessen the amount of bleeding. I have black cotton napkins and blue microfiber bogie rags. The black dye bled, turning the water black. When I pulled the blue rags out of the water, they were streaked with black water. After they cooled and I rinsed them with cold water, the black stained water came right off and did NOT dye the rags. If you have a 15-year-old son, you may have a hard time keeping him away from the black water while he tries to convince you to let him try dyeing every white shirt and sock in his possession.  

Cats Movie Review…the long review.

You can read my short review here.

This is the long rant that I managed to hold in over night.

Last night, I finally decided to go watch Cats in the cinema. After reading through dozens of nasty reviews, I realized all of the critics,

had not seen Cats before, hated or did not attend the ballet regularly, had never read TS Elliott’s Book of Practical Cats.

I have seen Cats before. I do attend the ballet regularly, and I own and have memorized TS Elliott’s Book of Practical Cats. As far as poetry goes, it’s weird, and I love it. Because it has cats!

I realized, to know what was going on with this movie, I had to just watch it and decide for myself. Fortunately, for me, I managed to catch one of the last showings of Cats in my local theater before Regal pulled it after only a week.

I decided to wait until the morning to leave the review because I was so angry. Not at the movie, but at the critics.

Since Christmas, I had read every scathing thing about Cats from “Rebel Wilson bites the heads off of cockroaches with human faces,” to “the cats were disproportionate,” to “The cats don’t look like cats,” to “they didn’t CGI fur on the hands of Judi Dench,” oh, and “the cats moaned sexually while they lapped milk,” and, the old original critic I’ve been listening to for 30 years, “I didn’t understand the plot.”

I was near tears with disappointment
on 2 January 2020 when I finally said, “I just have to go see it for myself.”

Hold up. Before I launched into this, it might help to know that the only reason I knew there was going to be a new movie edition of Cats in 2019 was because, three months ago, I was on YouTube showing Cats the 1998 film edition to my 12-year-old. There I was, three months ago showing her this weird ass musical when a recommended video popped up. My jaw hit the floor and I went, “whaaaat!?” I saw Judi Dench hold out her hand to Victoria. “Would you come with me?”

“THEY FIXED IT!” I screamed and, with trembling hands, I reached for the Cats 1998 movie off the shelf and put it into the BluRay player. Did you catch that? I grabbed the movie off the shelf. SURPRISE! Cats (2019) is a remake!

“Just watch!” I said to my daughter.  

Ten minutes later my daughter said,
“This is the book I have upstairs!” and she ran upstairs and brought down an
old paperback book spattered with faded colored pencils.

I smiled. Yes, it is.

In 1993, I stumbled upon a little song called Mr. Mistoffelees, and I fell hard in love with the music of Andrew Lloyd Webber. Shortly thereafter, I bought a little paperback book by TS Elliot called “The Book of Practical Cats.” I love cats. I love poetry. I love classic literature. How could I NOT love The Book of Practical Cats? After reading and committing the entire book of cat poetry to memory, I grabbed my colored pencils and promptly colored Bustopher Jones and his little white spats green.

In three years, I would have owned and memorized all of Lloyd Webber’s music. The Phantom of the Opera, Cats, Sunset Boulevard, Jesus Christ Superstar, Joseph and the Amazing Technicolor Dream Coat…How about Jeeves, Aspects of Love, Song and Dance, and *gulp* I am embarrassed to say, Starlight Express. Now that was garbage theater. I had it ALL. And so, at age 12, I grand jete’d into the world of musical theater, ballet, and opera. I am now 40 and, if I had to choose what to do in New York City, I would say the ballet first, the opera second, and a Broadway musical or a play third.  

When my BFF came back from a local performance of Cats in 1995, I made her re-enact the opera in detail. Did you catch that? Cats is an opera. Did you know?

I still remember listening to music at
age 15 while trying to fall asleep and, one night, I decided to put in Cats. Within 10 seconds, I was up and
dancing around my bedroom at ten o’clock at night and NOT sleeping. I got to Rum
Tum Tugger before shutting the music off and saying, “soooo…I can’t fall asleep
while listening to Cats.”

I was 22 when I found that Webber had recorded the Broadway show live, and released it on DVD in 1998. I bought that movie so fast and finally sat down to watch the beautiful insanity of TS Elliot’s Jellicle Ball enfold before me. Mind you, I had been listening to this music for ten years prior. To finally see it…It was weird. And then…I saw it. The ballet. And it all made sense. This…is a ballet. And we watch for the ballet.

Needless to say, I KNOW what Cats is about, what it is, and am a
hardcore FAN walking into this review with HIGH expectations going in.

Perhaps you saw Cats or you just weren’t interested and didn’t. There are things
you must know going in to this.

First and foremost, Cats is a ballet and one giant dance number. It is a ballet, people. As much a ballet as Swan Lake is. Without the dignity! There is no dignity in Cats. There isn’t supposed to be. For those of us who dance, it’s just fun! Cats is a musical opera second, and has a far more engaging plot than Nutcracker, and Nutcracker’s plot sucks! But no one complains about that!

If you know anything about ballet, you know that most plots do suck, costumes are abstract, and none of that matters because we’re here for the dancing. So…let’s do this, shall we?

Everything I hated about the live staged show

Why? Because to know where the 2019 film went right and why, you have to know where the 1998 film version (and all other staged versions) went wrong…hmmm…or were limited.

1 – When I sat down to watch the 1998 film version, there was one thing that bugged me right off. The whole show takes place in a garbage dump. I loved that we are in cat perspective, so everything was always so big. But between the dark theater lighting, the dark ratty costumes, and the props, the whole stage always looked like a literal garbage dump to me. I hated that about the live theater version.

2 – We got no close ups. It was
infuriating. One day, I will own a pair of opera glasses.

3 – Their tails were always like limp
little ropes tied around their waists. Oh wait…their tails ARE limp little
ropes tied around their waists.

4 – The Peeks and the Pollicles instead of Growltiger’s Last Stand. *sigh* I’ll talk about this later.

5 – Remember. Cats is a beauty pageant set to song and dance as an excuse to sing and dance. It is meant to be fun for people who love singing and dancing. When the winner of this pageant is chosen, we see WHO is chosen. We see the cat GO to the heavy side layer, but we never get to see them return as the new cat. It bugs me.

That’s it! Five things.

I always wanted more of Macavity.

I wish they would clarify the plot more so audience members would shut the hell up about the lack of plot. Oh wait. It IS explained. Here. Read this.

The Invitation to
the Jellical Ball.

[MUNKUSTRAP]
Jellicle Cats meet once a year
At the Jellicle Ball where we all rejoice
And the Jellicle leader will soon appear
And make what is known as the Jellicle Choice
When Old Deuteronomy just before dawn
Through a silence you feel could cut with a knife
Announces the Cat who can now be reborn
And come back to a different Jellicle life
For waiting up there is the Heaviside Layer
With wonders one Jellicle only will see
And Jellicles ask because Jellicles dare
Who will it be? Who will it be?

Did we all get that? Here it is again in case you missed it:

Jellicle Cats meet once a year

At the Jellicle Ball where we all rejoice

And the Jellicle leader will soon appear

And make what is known as the Jellicle Choice

When Old Deuteronomy just before dawn

Through a silence you feel could cut with a knife

Announces the Cat who can now be reborn

And come back to a different Jellicle life

For waiting up there is the Heaviside Layer

With wonders one Jellicle only will see

And Jellicles ask because Jellicles dare

Who will it be? Who will it be?

THAT is the plot. It’s right there in the third song of the musical. Invitation to the Jellicle Ball.

I am always dumbfounded whenever anyone tells
me they don’t know the plot. You don’t? Did you not hear the third song in the
musical? It’s always been there. Right there. RIGHT. THERE. IN BLACK AND WHITE.
I don’t know how anyone could miss it.

Ever since Cats was birthed in 1982, audiences have been complaining that they didn’t “get” the plot. This one complaint is not new. For me, it’s very clear. Maybe it’s because I hail from the land of ballet theater and opera. It’s spelled out very clearly third song in. There is an annual ball. The leader (Old Deuteronomy) arrives as the acting judge and decides, at dawn, which cat can be reborn. Again, Cats is a beauty pageant—a pageant that judges the inside beauty—set to song and dance as an excuse to sing and dance.

You know how cats have nine lives? This is all about them coming back in one of their nine lives. That’s it.

Now, there are two characters who have a lot of unexplained story behind them. Munkustrap and Victoria.

Munkustrap.

There is one cat who is never mentioned. We see him, but are never given his name. We know his name because when you buy a musical opera (or any opera) the opera comes with a little book called a libretto. My favorite thing to do is get a new opera on disc and crack open the libretto! Oh! You know you have quality when you get the libretto! And when reading the Cats libretto you see that “Munkustrap” narrates almost all the songs. Munkustrap is the cat who first invites Victoria into the ball. He’s kind of the beauty pageant manager.

Victoria.

Victoria has her own little back
story. In 1983, this little white cat…let’s drop this act. In 1983, one dancer was
always chosen as the prima donna. Every ballet required a head dancer. Ballet
needs every number to revolve around one character. And, in Cats, that thing was Victoria. While
everyone else is wearing tabby and Torty cat colors on a dark stage littered
with garbage, Victoria is pure white. Why? Because our eyes must be on her and
because the dancers must be able to easily spot her in the dark through the
garbage. She is to the cast what a musical conductor is to an orchestra. After
five years, audience members started asking, “Who is she?” They went back to
the original creators and demanded, “Who is she?”

“She? 
Oh…she’s….Victoria! Yeah, that’s it.” They gave this nameless character
a name only after the audience demanded one for her. As the musical enfolds, we
watch Victoria. Over ten years of Broadway production, Victoria was developed
before our eyes because we loved her.

I will never forget her dance numbers. DAMN. In ballet terms, let me sum this up for you. No role is more grueling, more demanding in all of Broadway than Victoria’s. And THAT is why we watch Cats. If you want something harder? Turn your eyes to Lincoln Center’s American Ballet Theater or the New York City Ballet. They don’t cast actors for Victoria’s role, they cast ballet dancers. The dancing in Cats is grueling. I meant it when I said Cats is a ballet, and Victoria is their prima donna. In truth, Victoria is the outsider looking in. This is a coming of age story and she is the star. It’s why she doesn’t sing—Her solo in the movie, Beautiful Ghosts, is new and was added just for the 2019 movie—because she dances. If you know anything about ballet, when you go to see Cats, you’ll recognize all of this right away. In the PlayBill you’ll see Victoria as the first cat listed. And when you read the dancer’s credentials, you’ll see they pulled her from the American Ballet Theater or something like that. While everyone else is reflecting their work on Broadway, she’ll have an extensive background for ballet.

You know the plot. You know Munkustrap. You know Victoria. You know the crappy 1998 film edition I have spent twenty years watching. Now…The review…

The Review

It. Was. Perfect. PERFECT. The costumes were stunning. Did they look like cats? Yes! They did! As much as swans looked like swans in Swan Lake. In fact, they looked more like cats than any swan in Swan Lake! It was gorgeous! Remember! This is about the ballet. You can not cover up a dancer’s body. In fact, true to the original Broadway show, the only ones who were covered up were the cats who only sang and did not dance. Old Deuteronomy and Grizabella.

The Sets!

No more garbage dump! There was light! And
rain! And streets! And houses! No more garbage dump! Everything was bright and
beautiful! I wish you could see the Peeks and the Pollicles to get my meaning
(Later on this…not yet)! Throughout the musical, the cats accumulate garbage
and manufacture sets out of garbage. I ALWAYS hated it. This is one huge
wonderful change the movie made! The set was beautiful! So the one critic who
complained about perspective?

Let me explain.

I love Sims. I was playing Sims4 one day with my cats and dogs packet when I bought and downloaded the seasons pack. In short, the seasons pack is not compatible with the cat and dog pack. I was happily playing with my kitties when BAM! My cat suddenly morphs into this freaky disproportionate Tim Burton cat. I cried. It gave me nightmares. I called EA and they uninstalled the seasons pack and refunded my money. So when I heard that the perspective was off in the movie, I freaked out and thought, “I can’t see this movie! If they screwed up the CGI that badly…” No! The perspective that the critic complained about was that he/she didn’t understand that the sets were scaled to cat size, Dumb F**k! Seriously! Of all the critics, this one pissed me off the most.

“Jellicle cats, as we said, are small.”

I know you said it, Munkustrap! Thank you!

The CGI

I loved that the CGI added so much to the
tails! No more limp little ropes tied around their waists! They were real
tails! There is no fur CGI’d to ANY hands. That one critic who bitched about
Judi Dench’s furless hand was an unobservant idiot. No cats had any fur CGI’d
to their hands or to their bare feet.

Why the coats? That was part of the costumes from the staged edition that they carried over. And besides, these are Jellicle Cats. They are not your usual house cats. I felt it was in ode to the staged edition. Old Deuteronomy wears a coat. So does Grizabella. Always have. Always will. Honestly, I always thought the ones wearing coats were just long haired cats. Hence the long coats. When you look at the history of costume design in 1980’s it makes perfect sense.  

The Dancing

I was terrified the dancing would be removed to accommodate modern viewers. That being said, with the exception of the usual Growltiger vs. Pollicle song (more on that later), every song was exactly as is on stage. Nothing was cut! One song was added! We’ll talk about Beautiful Ghosts later. If anything, they kept all the dancing, but added tap shoes! OH MY GOD! SKIMBLESHANKS TAP DANCES! I haven’t seen tap dancing since the musicals from 1950’s! I lost my shit when I saw tap shoes!

Two cats wore sneakers. That is a common costume style in dance when you want to communicate to the audience, “They are not ballet dancers.” And it was quite clear that they would not be doing any ballet. And they didn’t. I loved it. I did notice that the cats were all barefoot. Ballet dancing barefoot is…No words can explain the rapture of feeling the stage beneath your bare feet.

My one complaint was that the camera moved a lot to capture close ups. In ballet, you watch everything, but the faces. But I can understand why they did that. So here I am complaining about the close ups in the 2019 film and the lack of close ups in the 1998 film. Hm. I just need to see this live again.

The Plot

The plot. OH MY GOD THEY FIXED IT! Before the movie, the plot was only mentioned in “The Invitation to the Jellical Ball.” Again, I never had an issue listening to the lyrics of songs. Here, is where I was just so happy! In the staged version there is 100% singing and no talking. It’s a musical opera. I love musical operas! What’s a musical opera?

Well…Opera means all sung. The word musical means all spoken with a spattering of singing to aid the emoting. Musical Opera means 100% sung but don’t expect the operatic style. That is it. There will be singing, people. And I mean, nothing but.

However, recognizing the old plot problem, someone said, “Let’s add dialogue because, for whatever reason, people have a problem listening to song lyrics and they keep missing the plot explained in The Invitation to the Jellical Ball, third song in. And they did! And it was perfect! AND YET…PEOPLE ARE STILL MISSING IT!

Rebel Wilson as the Cockroach Eating Cat who unzips her skin

I hate JennyAnyDots. The role here was performed by Rebel Wilson. I must clarify…I loved Rebel Wilson as JennyAnyDots. She made this song bearable. I HATE THIS SONG. I have always hated this song. The 2019 movie made it bearable. The Gumbie Cat song is one that has always pissed me off. I just hate the style of music. I was REALLY hoping they would just cut this musical number. This poem by Elliot is about a cat who nurtures mice and beetles. It is the first song of the inside-beauty pageant, and I’ve always hated it mainly because it was a song Lloyd Webber recycled from Joseph and the Amazing Technicolor Dreamcoat in the song, “Joseph’s Dreams.” I hated the song then too! It’s the same song. It’s in the style of 1920’s flapper music and, on stage, JennyAnyDots removes her giant overcoat to reveal a flapper dress before launching into full flapper style dance…or is it the Jitterbug? God, I just hate it! Rebel Wilson does unzip her outer coat to reveal a more Radio City Music Hall styled costume underneath. This is common in ballet when one dancer needs more freedom of movement. To be honest, if a dancer doesn’t change her costume at least once on stage, it’s actually bizarre, so this didn’t cause me to blink an eye. I’ve seen them strip hoop dresses, full tutu’s…it’s a ballet thing. But again, I regularly watch ballet!

Now, I have spent 20 years watching the 1998 film adaptation as adult-sized dancers in cat costumes instruct adult-sized dancers in mice costumes who pirouette with adult-sized dancers in beetle costumes all dancing on Broadway. This was a WONDERFUL change. The CGI made the cats cat-sized, the mice, mouse-sized, and the beetles all beetle-sized. THANK YOU! Seriously!

Now, I’m sorry, but CATS EAT BEETLES! They do! So when the cat ate the beetles…it was very cat-like. To be honest, I was expecting the entire musical to suddenly stop mid-song to accommodate a random cat bathing mid musical number BECAUSE THAT’S WHAT CATS DO! This was one critic who blew this scene WAY out of proportion. The song, in general, sucks, no matter where you go see this. I hate the Gumbie Cat song. I think the 2019 movie made it bearable. 

Sexual Cats?

The cats moaning sexually while they lapped milk? No, they didn’t. Which brings me to Rum Tum Tugger.

People. In case you missed it, these are not cats. They are human dancers in costume. That being said, the character is flirty and very sexual. When my BFF when to see Cats on stage, Tugger grabbed her from the audience and danced with her on stage. His character is sexual. He is fun and a pure delight. If you haven’t, YouTube Rum Tum Tugger 1998 film song right now. I can wait. Here! Just watch!

(God, I forgot about the leg warmers)

See! The 2019 movie is better! Simply put, the song is as sexual as Big Spender from Sweet Charity. That’s Broadway. When I saw the cats and the milk in the 2019 edition, I nearly screamed with delight, “Of course it’s sexual! It’s Rum Tum Tugger!” I didn’t scream. I just waited for the milk lapping and the moaning, but it didn’t come. No pun intended.

By this point, I had stopped gripping my chair and relaxed. I was smiling and enjoying this thing enfolding before me. It was everything I had hoped for, and it delivered.  

Ian McKellen and Gus the Theater Cat.

I can not see or hear Gus the Theater cat without crying my eyes out. His story breaks my heart and Ian McKellen delivered. Of course he did. It’s Ian McKellen. And now…this brings me to Growltiger’s Last Stand vs. The Peeks and the Pollicles.

Back to TS Elliott. Remember, this is all a book of poetry about cats. Elliott was British. Llloyd Webber is British. Cats is set in London. Half the cast is British. This was done on purpose. Once upon a time, Lloyd Webber read Elliott’s book of poetry and said, “Hey! I want to set this to music,” and he did. He composed music for ALL the poems. When he was done, the musical was pushing three 1/2 hours long. You read that right. Three 1/2 hours. This explanation is about three very particular poems.

Gus the Theater Cat, Growltiger’s Last Stand, The Peeks and the Pollicles

In 1982, when the musical hit London stage, the director accommodated that 3 1/2 hour running time. Around 1985, when it came to Broadway, the directors cut one song because it was too long. Which song? The Peeks and the Pollicles. When the 1998 movie came out, they had to choose which song to cut. Which song? Growltiger’s Last Stand. When they made this 2019 movie? Guess which was up to cut? The Peeks and the Pollicles, thank the gods!

In the original production, Gus explains how “I once played Growltiger, huh uh! Could do it again…” The stage fades to a MUCH younger Gus who then reprises his role as Growltiger. This song is, in my opinion, almost as beautiful as Memory.

“Growltiger was a bravo cat who travelled on a barge
  In fact he was the roughest cat that ever roamed at large.
  From Gravesend up to Oxford he pursued his evil aims
  Rejoicing in his title of the “Terror of the Thames”

Growltiger explains how he made his way to Siam where he fell in love with the rapturous Griddlebone, a gorgeous white longhaired cat. A Persian? The lovers sing a duet in the true operatic style. Very Puccini, and I live for Puccini. If my soul had sound it would be Puccini. So naturally, I love this song. It is one of my most loved compositions by Andrew Lloyd Webber. Growltigger saves Griddlebone from the Siamese cats. The stage fades back to black, and we see old Gus again fighting back tears as he recalls the good old days. It brings me to tears every time. Even now. I’m crying as I recall this broken down fallen theater star pining for the days while keeping his composure. I love Gus so much.

The Peeks and the Pollicles…*groooooan* In short, the cats use garbage to dress up like dogs. I hate dogs. Especially when I’m watching Cats. Munkustrap tells the story about how dogs would come out and bark all over the park. The cats collect garbage to dress themselves up like dogs as they play out the story. I hate it. So when this 2019 movie came out, I immediately checked and saw that Growltiger’s turn was up.

I hate what they did to the song, but I don’t see modern audiences sitting through traditional operatic singing.

Instead…

Growltiger worked for Macavity and they removed the relationship to Gus…*whining* but Growltiger adds so much to Gus. It just breaks my heart. At the same time, I was thrilled to see they included it and the barge on the Thames. So, in that, they redeemed themselves.

To be honest…I think the producer’s cut the full song to make time in the cinema. I’m hoping there will be a special edition director’s cut with the full composition…but I doubt it. For opera lovers, it’s a gorgeous composition.

James Corden as Bustopher Jones

I loved James Corden. He took an already
loveable character and just OWNED him! I love Bustopher Jones so much! Seriously,
I just lost it over his performance. In my opinion, Corden stole the show! “Puss
in spats.” I giggled about that all night.

“Puss in spats? Does [MacCavity] mean that to be an insult? Well, jokes on him. I love it.” *Pauses to giggle uncontrollably*

Macavity

Macavity was gorgeous! I had always wanted more of him and they delivered! Macavity always seemed to be a mischievous cat who just caused trouble because…well…he’s a cat. In the 2019 movie, they expanded on this and turned him into a cheater who kidnapped all the competitors. Beautiful! And his costume was gorgeous!  

Jason Derulo

I was disappointed in the performance of Rum
Tum Tugger performed by Jason Derulo. He did not have the same flirty fun from
the 1998 film performance.

And now…

Jennifer Hudson

Two weeks prior, I had just heard Hudson singing How Great Thou Art on my Christmas album…and she RUINED How Great Thou Art. One of my favorite hymns…she butchered it. I hate Jennifer Hudson. I don’t know why anyone likes her. She isn’t original. To me, she is a copycat pop singer. Listening to Hudson is like listening to a talentless Whitney Houston impersonator who lacks Houston’s originality. *ouch* So with Whitney Houston as the original, why do we need Hudson? Oh, right. Someone has to butcher Memory.

Now, I’ll be fair. Hudson was taking on Elaine Paige…and she fell way too short. Truly, Hudson is the only thing about this movie that sucked. Her rendition of Memory was terrible, but again, she’s going up against Elaine Paige. In hindsight, why not cast Kristen Chenoweth or Idina Menzel for the role? Either one of those Broadway giants are originals and both have the voices to match Elaine Paige. Why Hudson? Ugh!

Now…this leads me to…Beautiful Ghosts.

Victoria and Beautiful Ghosts

I had heard the song just an hour before I went to see the movie. Without context I heard it, nodded, and said, “Yep. That is an Andrew Lloyd Webber song from 2019.” It sounded like Love Never Dies, which is the sequel to The Phantom of the Opera written by Andrew Lloyd Webber…I told you. I have ALL the music.

In context…the song had me in tears. I always understood the plot of Cats. It was Grizabella’s back story that always felt lacking to me. The movie cleared this up beautifully, and the song, Beautiful Ghosts, added such a depth to Grizabella and Victoria’s characters. It was just…stunning.

In conclusion…

You know why people hated Cats? It’s because they walked into it expecting a modern, live-action movie with real cats about cats. They didn’t know it’s a musical opera about dancing. They didn’t know it’s a dance! They didn’t know it’s a ballet. I read one reviewer who was in the cinema when someone’s twelve-year-old son jumped up out his seat and screamed, “I HATE THIS!”

Wait…12-year-old boy? You took your video-gaming tween to the ballet and musical opera? I took my theater/ballet loving 12-year-old daughter and left my 15 and 17-year-old gaming nerd children home KNOWING THEY WOULD HATE IT.

So…

“Rebel Wilson bites the heads off of cockroaches with human faces,”

Yes, she does, but this is REALLY not as big a deal as the critic made it. Cats eat beetles. Didn’t you know?

“The cats were disproportionate,”

No, they weren’t. “Jellicle Cats, as we said, are small.” And this movie is filmed in cat perspective.

“The cats don’t look like cats.”

And the swans in Swan Lake don’t look like Swans. This is a dance after all.

“They didn’t CGI fur on the hands of Judi Dench.”

No. They didn’t. In fact, for consistency, they didn’t CGI fur on anyone’s hands.

“The cats moaned sexually while they lapped milk.”

No, they didn’t.

And, the old original critic that I’ve been listening to for 30 years…“I didn’t understand the plot.”

Then you weren’t listening as the plot is clearly explained by Munkustrap in the third song and additional explanations were peppered throughout the entire movie.

And no. It isn’t about cats dying. It’s about how cats move from one of their nine lives to the next. It is about being beautiful on the inside. THAT is what Cats is about. How bullies target what they don’t understand and how those of us who are most beautiful on the inside are usually the first to be beaten down and thrown away.

Maybe you should watch it again.

Here it is.The only positive Cats (2019) Movie Review

Here it is…The only positive review on the movie Cats (2019)

In 500 words or less,

Cats is about a beauty pageant—a pageant that judges the inside beauty—set to song and dance as an excuse to sing and dance. Cats is fun for those of us who love singing and dancing all for the sake of singing and dancing.

First and foremost, Cats is a ballet. It’s about the dancing.

If you hate ballet or dancing, don’t watch Cats.

Cats is a musical-opera. If you hate operas or musicals, don’t watch Cats.

Cats was not made for cat lovers. It was made for ballet and musical-opera lovers.

No matter how much you love felines, you really shouldn’t watch Cats unless you love ballet, opera, or musicals. If you do love ballet, opera, musicals AND cats, then you’re in for a REAL treat!

Cats (2019) is a remake of the 1998 film Cats! Unless you follow Broadway and ballet, you probably don’t know that.

For those of you who do love ballet and musical-opera…the movie was gorgeous! For someone who has been stuck watching the 1998 film for 20 years, this movie was everything I could hope for and much more!

James Corden stole the show with his portrayal of Bustopher Jones. Every problem I ever had with the 1998 film was corrected! Goodbye garbage dump! Goodbye poorly lit staging! Goodbye garbage props! The movie brought out every element of the musical that ballet fans love! I was thrilled to see that they kept a lot of the original choreography and all the dance numbers! After all, the dancing is why we go to see Cats!

The plot was cleared up. The CGI was stunning, adding to the illusion without covering the dancers’ form! The sets were gorgeous! Finally!   

Hudson was terrible. The role was too good for her. She ruined the role of Grizabella and butchered one of Broadway’s most beautiful ballads. Where was Kristin Chenoweth or Idina Mendel? Ian McKellen was so beautiful as Gus! Idris Elba as Macavity was perfect! Victoria finally got the role she deserved!

For a more thorough rant…read on.

Garden Portfolio

2016 to Present

My yard consists of 4,250 Sq Footage. In the back, you’ll find a corner garden, two pool-side gardens, a bird garden, bee garden, and a side patio garden where roses, liatris, lilies, and bee balm grow. In the driveway, an 82 plant Vegetable “bucket” garden spills over with tomatoes, peppers, green beans, and peas. A peppermint patch, an 80-foot long raised bed, and a witch’s garden that doubles as a shade garden surrounds the driveway. The fence is lined with clematis and morning glories. In the front, guests are welcomed by a double rose garden that stretches out to a bed of lilies that spans the front yard. A patch of peonies and bleeding hearts are tucked into the corner where 80 feet of forsythia begins.

In 2017, I planted corn in the front yard to restore the soil. Corn dumps nitrogen into the soil and is strategically planted by farmers in crop rotation to revive depleted soil.

Welcome to my portfolio. The newest photos are first and depict the work I began in 2012.

Asiatic Lily Asiatic Lily Asiatic Lily AzaleasBalloon FlowerBee Garden Spring 2018Bee Garden Spring 2018 Blackberries 2018Bleeding HeartsBroccoliVegetable “Bucket” Garden 2018 Vegetable “Bucket” Garden 2018 Vegetable “Bucket” Garden 2018 Vegetable “Bucket” Garden 2018 Vegetable “Bucket” Garden 2018 Butterfly Garden 2018 Butterfly Garden 2018 Butterfly Garden 2018 Corner Garden
Catnip 2018Celery 2018 Cherry Tree 2018 Clematis 2018 Clematis 2018 Clematis Clematis Clematis ColumbineCorn 2017Corn 2017
Utilizing Crop Rotation Corn 2017Corner Garden 2017 Corner Garden 2017 Corner Garden 2017 Corner Garden 2017 Side Patio Garden
Lilies, Roses, and LiatrisPool Side Garden
Strawberries 2017 Corner Garden 2017 Asiatic LilyDusty MillerButterfly Garden 2017 Side Patio GardenFront Rose Garden
FoxgloveFront Rose Garden 2017Pool Side Garden 2017Corner Garden
Giant Lilies Giant Lilies Raised Bed
Morning GloriesHerb Garden 2017Bird GardenBird Garden
Holly Bushes Side Patio GardenWitch’s Garden HydrangeaIris Iris Iris Iris Lemon Tree 2017 Lilacs Lilacs Lilacs Lilacs Lilacs Side Patio Garden
Lilies, Roses, and Liatris Front Lily Bed
Lilies and Herbs Side Patio Garden
Lilies, Roses, and Liatris Side Patio Garden
Lilies, Roses, and Liatris Front Lily Bed Front Rose Garden
Lilies and Roses Side Patio Garden
Lilies, Roses, and Liatris LobeliaPool Side Garden Year 3LupinPool Side Garden
Lupin and StrawberriesButterfly Garden 2017Butterfly Garden 2017Butterfly Garden 2018
Monarch Caterpillar
#savethemonarchsMorning GloriesPeonies and Bleeding HeartsPeonies Peonies Peppermint 2018 Pool Side Garden 2017 Pool Side Garden 2017Pool Side GardenRaised Garden Bed 2017Raspberries Raspberries Raspberries Romaine LettuceSweetpeaFront Rose Garden Front Rose Garden Front Rose Garden Front Rose Garden
Rose Seedling Front Rose Garden Front Rose Garden Side Patio Garden
Lilies and Roses Side Patio Garden
Roses Side Patio Garden
Silver Shamrock Butterfly Garden 2018 Soapwort Butterfly Garden 2018 Soapwort Butterfly Garden 2018 Soapwort Side Patio Garden
LiliesStrawberry Pool Side Garden 2017 Morning GloriesPool Side Garden 2017 Strawberries Sweetpea Sweetpea Sweetpea Thai BasilTickseedTomatoes Side Patio Garden
Tulips Pool Side Garden 2017 Veronica Pool Side Garden 2017 Veronica Pool Side Garden 2017 Veronica WatermelonAstilbeWitch’s Garden Witch’s Garden Astilbe Witch’s Garden
Astilbe and Hydrangea Witch’s Garden WormwoodYellow LupinOrchid 2016Upcoming Project 2020 – Get rid of the Zoysia Grass



2012 to Present

This second gallery mostly depicts the gardens within the first four years. My husband and I bought the house in 2012 and, right away, we went to work.

I’ve laid out cardboard to kill off patches of weeds and grass to make garden design and planting much easier for the following season.

Lily Garden Year 1Bee BalmBee Garden Bee Garden Bee Garden Bee Garden BlackberriesBlackberries Year 2Bleeding Hearts Butterfly GardenButterfly Garden Pre-planting and Design Butterfly Garden Pre-planting and Design Butterfly Garden Pre-planting and Design Corner Garden
2015 Corner Garden
2015 Corner Garden Corner Garden 2015 Corner Garden 201Dusty MillerFront Rose Garden 2013Back Yard Garden Overview 2016Indoor Herb Garden Winter 2019Raised Bed
HollyhocksIndoor Garden Winter 2019Corner Garden
LiatrisSide Patio Garden Corner Garden
2016Sweet Potato Vine Side Patio Garden
Lupin 2014Moon Flower Morning Glory Morning Glories Morning Glories Morning Glories Mums and Morning GloriesMumsMumsPassionFruit Vine 2019Peppermint Pre-planting and Design 2013Side Garden Planting and Design Pool Side Garden 2015 Pool Side Garden Planting and Design 2015 Pool Side Garden Planting and Design 2015 Pool Side Garden 2015RaspberriesRaspberriesRaspberries 2018Roses and LiliesRose Garden Year 2 Rose Garden Rose Garden Rose Garden Rose Garden Year 2 Rose Garden Pool Side Garden Year 1
2016 Pool Side Garden Year 1 2016 Pool Side Garden Year 1
2016 Pool Side Garden Year 1 2016 Witch’s Garden Witch’s Garden Witch’s Garden Fall Witch’s Garden Summer Witch’s Garden Pre-Planting and Design 2015 Witch’s GardenWitch’s Garden Year 4
2018

The InVitro Experience – Miscarriage

This is part of the IVF Series I am writing that recounts my experience with IVF. At this time, I am 10 Days AET (After Embryo Transfer) of my third IVF Cycle.

Cycle #1 – December 2018 and January 2019

I had been taking progesterone injections. Progesterone must be injected into the buttocks. The needle is 3″ long and has a 23 gauge. What does this mean? See below. The smallest needle shown below is a diabetic needle. The middle needle is the one I used to inject into my butt. The entire length of the needle must go into the muscle. The needle to the far left if used to draw the oil into the syringe.

After the first retrieval, the nurse gave me a sheet that covered 5 days of med instructions. I was to return on Monday for a pregnancy test. By Friday, 3 days after the blastocyst transfer, a home pregnancy test confirmed I was pregnant. My doctor conducted a blood test and yes, my HcG was at 70. I was pregnant.

So why do I have to take the progesterone injections? I did some internet research where people had argued that “the progesterone injections produce a healthier fetus,” and I found additional research from MIT that confirmed, “There is no evidence that progesterone produces a healthier fetus.” This argument is bull shit.

So I called the Fertility Clinic and asked why I had to take the injections now that I’m pregnant. Her answer? “It’s produces a healthier fetus.” I looked at the article online from MIT that debunks this claim. “Okay,” I said. “Well, how long do I have to take these injections?”

“Three months.”

Every day. For three months. I did not sign up for this. Until this phone call, I had no idea that I would have to continue treatment up to the second trimester. A month prior to that day, I had no idea I would even need to have injections done. “Do I have to take the progesterone?” I asked.

“Well…” She said. She hesitated. She actually hemmed and hawed. “We recommend it.”

“Hm.”

Like a salad? You recommend the fish and the pinot gris too? Based on a “recommendation” I stopped taking the progesterone.

And I started my menstrual cycle.

Guess what progesterone REALLY does? Progesterone is the number 1# communication hub in a woman’s body that tells her body whether or not she’s pregnant. It stops, delays, and starts the menstrual cycle. When progesterone is present and/or it increases, the woman is pregnant and the hormone tells the female body, “Don’t menstruate! Don’t shed the uterine lining where an embryo has implanted! You’re having a baby!” A drop or decline in progesterone tells the body you’re not pregnant, and you need to shed the uterine lining.

That dumb bitch told me “they recommend it.” Do doctors “Recommend” insulin for diabetics? NO! They tell them to take the damn insulin or they’ll die from sugar sickness! So I miscarried. At the ER, one day later, they measured my HcG at 270. From 70 to 270 in one day? I was pregnant with twins. Had I been pregnant with one child, the HcG would have been 140.

Aftermath

The despair that followed…The experience was devastating and it pulled my husband and I closer more than ever before. We were so broken, that I clung to anything to help us heal.

I declared I was doing IVF again and immediately decided to use 100% of my tax return on a second cycle.

Statics show that undergoing a 2nd cycle increases your chances so long as you don’t wait. In hindsight, we should have waited. We were too scared to wait and jumped right back into treatment without giving my body a rest. The problem with this? We over-harvested my eggs, though I didn’t know it at the time.

Read about the InVitro Experience as it happens

The InVitro Experience Part #1

The InVitro Experience Part #2

The InVitro Experience Part #2

To understand this article, read this article first. I ended with the line ” Retrieval Day…To be continued 21 January 2019.” I miscarried that night and was rushed to the ER where they confirmed I had miscarried. Needless to say, I was too disheartened at the time to write the article.

Stage #3a – Retrieval

Since January 2019, I have undergone three retrievals and can attest that, for the most part, they are almost all the same.

On retrieval day, you have to fast. It is a minor surgery. We arrived at 6:00AM the first time, 9:30 the second time, and 10:00 the third time. When checking in, we are escorted to a private sitting room. The partner (if you have a male partner), is escorted into a private booth where he collects a semen sample, which will be used to fertilize the eggs.

I was taken into the bathroom where I was weighed in and told to change into a bathrobe they provided. This is because odors like perfumes, colognes, deodorants, and lotions will kill embryos. I recommend showering before retrieval (morning of) and do not use any products aside from soap and shampoos.

After I changed into a robe, they escorted me to an OR. There, I am hooked into an IV. An embryologist comes in and talks to me about our plan. My plan is to always have the embryos aged to 5-days and frozen when they are blastocysts and are no longer embryos. A fresh or frozen 3-day embryo has a 30% chance of implant. A 5-day embryo (called a blastocyst) has an 88% chance of implant. See the difference? This is just one big numbers game, and, in IVF, every stat matters.

I told the embryologist that my husband and I want the embryos aged to day 5 and then frozen. Next, a phlebotomist comes in and draws my blood. The doctor comes in and greets you. Every time I was asked how many follicles I have. This is a pointless question because no matter what you’ve been told, no matter what you think, it’s wrong. During the last week, the nurse has been able to see and track follicles on my ovaries (each follicle contains one egg…usually).

Side Note: What is a follicle? The eggs are inside the ovary. When a woman is “ovulating” a follicle…think of it as an egg sac, forms on the outside of the ovary. An egg rises to the top and enters the follicle/egg sac. Inside the follicle, is the egg. In a natural pregnancy, the follicle releases the egg, which is picked up — yes. Picked up by the Fallopian tube and taken down to the uterus. The follicle stays on the ovary and begins to secrete progesterone. If the egg is fertilized, the follicle acts like the placenta until the placenta can take over in the second trimester of pregnancy. If the egg is not fertilized, the follicle dissolves, the progesterone secretion stops, and the uterine lining begins to shed.

So how did this all measure up from IVF cycle to cycle?

Cycle #1 – December 2018 and January 2019

Follicles Tracked: 5 = 3 on my right ovary. 2 on my left ovaryEggs Retrieved: 8 Actual Mature Eggs: 3Eggs Fertilized: 3Final Embryo Count: 2 Meds: Gonal (HgH) and HcG

Cycle #2 – March 2019 and April 2019

Follicles Tracked: 4 = 4 on my right ovary. 0 on my left ovaryEggs Retrieved: 4Actual Mature Eggs: 2Eggs Fertilized: 2Final Embryo Count: 2 Meds: Gonal (HgH) and Menopur

Cycle #3 – June 2019 and July 2019

Follicles Tracked: 4 = 2 on my right. 2 on my left. Eggs Retrieved: 5Actual Mature Eggs: 2Eggs Fertilized: 2Final Embryo Count: 2 Meds: Omnitrope (HgH), DHEA, Gonal (HgH) and HcG

As you see, how many follicles you have and how many eggs they retrieve means nothing. 50% of what they retrieve can’t be used.

Here is my favorite part. The anesthetist comes in, sedates you, and you sleep. It is the best sleep ever. I woke up, and the doctor greeted me to tell me how many eggs he collected…which is also irrelevant because they can only fertilize mature eggs. Now here we begin the next stage of stress.

Stage #3b – Embryo Freezing

Who will fertilize and who will survive?

I went home, and the next day, the embryologist called to tell me how many eggs they fertilized. Here, the experience grossly changed from cycle to cycle.

Cycle #1 – December 2018 and January 2019

We told them we wanted a 5-day old frozen transfer. This boosted our 30% chance of implantation up to 88%. The clinic obliged. They called us on Day #1 to say they fertilized 3 mature eggs. On Day #5, they called us to say one of the eggs didn’t make it to Day 5, but they did freeze 2 blastocysts. This completed the first cycle.

Egg Quality: Good. Meds Used: Gonal (HgH) and HcG Results: I was confirmed pregnant within 3 days after transfer.Total Waiting Period: 3 to 5 daysStress: None to Low

Cycle #2 – March 2019 and April 2019

My husband and I had planned on another frozen transfer. After I woke from the anesthesia, the doctor was there to tell me he strongly recommended a fresh transfer as he only collected 4 eggs. I talked to my husband a few minutes later, and we decided to take the doctor’s advice. We received a call the next day (Counted as Day #1), from the embryologist to say they successfully fertilized 2 of the 4 eggs. This completed the second cycle.

Two days later, we were back at the clinic for a fresh transfer. We were sent home and told to wait for 2 to 3 weeks before a pregnancy test could be done. This two week period is so dreadful it has a name: The Two Week Wait. Google it. It’s hell on earth.

Over the next two weeks, I was told by the doctor, without any blood work being drawn, that I had started menopause. I was told by a nurse, without any tests, that I had an ectopic pregnancy. Hm. By the way. I have no Fallopian tubes…I CAN’T have an ectopic pregnancy. The doctor prescribed a medication for an off-label use that is renowned for it’s 90% miscarriage rate. Should I call an attorney? My husband and I are looking into it.

Egg Quality: Good. One embryo was labelled “Perfect” Meds: Low Dose Omnitrope (HgH) and DHEA, Gonal (HgH) and HcG Results: Failed. The fertilized embryos did not implant, however they were secreting low levels of HcG into my system resulting in a false pregnancy test. Totaling Waiting Period: 14 to 21 daysStress: Dangeroulsy High to Clinical levels.

Cycle #3 – June 2019 and July 2019

My husband and I made it clear we wanted a frozen 5-day transfer. The next day, Day #1, the embryologist called to say they had injected two eggs with sperm. One egg had fertilized. They were still waiting on the second egg to fertilize. On Day #3, the embryologist called to say that the second egg did, in fact, fertilize, and they froze 2 three-day embryos.

Wait! What?

I told them I wanted a 5-day embryo transfer. The embryologist told me the policy had JUST changed and, unless, I had 4 or more mature eggs to fertilize, the clinic’s policy required they freeze the eggs on day 3.

But they are my eggs! Legally, my husband and I hold 100% custody! And why wasn’t I told of this sooner? Did they have the legal right to go against my instructions on my eggs? I don’t know.

Egg Quality: Excellent Meds: Full Dose Omnitrope (HgH) and DHEA, Gonal (HgH) and HcG Results: Unknown as of Day #10Totaling Waiting Period: 11 to 13 daysStress: Low



Read about the InVitro Experience as it happens

The InVitro Experience Part #1

The InVitro Experience Part #3 Continues