I love you March Madness

Every year, January and February come and go and I eventually become annoyed with them both. The cold gets annoying. All the snow stops being pretty and starts being hour long inconveniences and my car becomes that weird snow gray dingy color that it seems pointless to clean until the sun comes out and decides to stay. But there is one saving grace. If I can make it through the tundra that is January and the disappointment that is February, I can get my big reward. And that is March Madness.

If March Madness was a man, I would marry him. I might even be his side-piece. You know, the girl who knows she's not the main squeeze but will still drop everything she can to run to him. That is how strong my feelings are for the Big Dance. Now, I imagine, not everyone is as big a college bball fan as I am. To explain it simply, March Madness is the culmination of the NCAA basketball season. The top 68 teams in the country, based on conference tournament championships, regular conference championships and strength of schedule/wins, are invited to a sudden death tournament. Everyone is ranked, and everyone speculates on who will win. You guess the upsets, the cinderellas, the first top seeds to fall.

And THEN you actually watch the tournament. 32 games in two days. Followed by 16 more games for two more days. And you have the nail biting buzzer beaters. And the ridiculous commentary (oh, please bring Charles Barkley back every year). And the heartbreak, and the OMG moments. And you exclaim and argue and watch everything in slow mo and do it again with all your friends. And then there are the bars and the beers and the nachos, and OMG fried food overload. And even after all of that, THERE ARE TWO MORE WEEKS!!!! YES!!!!! UUUUUUHHHHHHHH. March Madness, if I could can you, no one would need crack.

And yet there are still people out there who don't get it or don't care. To those people I say....

You're terrorists without souls.

Now sit in a corner and figure it out and come join the fun. I'll be at the bar.

Love,
Me

Asking for help can be powerful

I like being self sufficient. And I'm a Jamaican woman, so for whatever historical reason, I feel like I'm supposed to be hard wired for some significant amount of suffering. Fortunately, I was also a psych major in college. This has convinced me that everyone is crazy and we ALL need to see a therapist at least once a year. Think of it like confession for Catholics.

So when I feel myself getting all extra crazy, I have three main go tos. Nap, whine or run away. Sometimes I do all three. I'm pretty sure that's a skill. This has served me well for most of my years. I have a fantastic cloud like bed, so my napping is always awesome. I have some of the greatest friends in the world, so someone will always take one for the team and listen to me whine. And, I somehow am always able to run away both near (DC) and far (Jamaica) when I need to so I've always been fairly well adjusted. But this Alzheimer's thing has thrown me for a very strong loop.

I feel awkward talking to friends or fam about it because there really isn't some sorta positive answer to "So how's you're grandma?" and lets be honest, no one wants to hear "Well, a little bit worse than last time. And that will always be my answer." So I decided I needed to go somewhere that felt like a safe space. So a month ago, I started attending a Caregiver Support Group. And it helps. We talk about our weeks, the good, the bad and the crazy. We make and give tips and suggestions. We comfort and we talk. But most importantly we understand and empathise. And while, its early yet, I find myself reacting more calmly when things happen. I diffuse rather than ignite. And I adjust my idea of what is winning.

So when Grandma starts packing things in suitcases and bags, I don't flip out or ask too many questions. I've decided that as long as its before midnight, I will let it ride because ultimately its not worth the fight. My priority is making sure she gets to bed at midnight and that she doesn't hurt herself. At least she's occupied.

And when she wakes up in the middle of the night asking where we are and saying that everything looks unfamiliar, I just answer "Well we're at home and its the middle of the night. Maybe, come daylight, it will look more familiar." And if she goes back to bed without freaking out, that's success for me.

I'll take it.

Thanks to my support group for helping me get to this healthier place for myself and I hope for my Grandma.

Nicknames

Here are some of the ridiculous nicknames that I've used and or come up with for the Men in my own and my girlfriend's lives

BT- Boy Toy
The Young'un
Whip It
Kodak
Mr T.(echnology)
The WB
Captain America
Tennessee
Frenchie
Big Ben
Dr. Jew
The Win
The Missing Link
Crackhead Jumpoff
Houdini
Too Good To Be True Guy
Munch
Hollywood
Bubba
Shamwow
The Everlasting
Your Turtle
Rust Colored Shirt Guy
The Sodomite
Super Christian
Mr. Blah
The DJ
Biff