So many thoughts, feelings, emotions and not enough time. Or words. Or strength. So I'm going to borrow a few. And add a little of my own. I've really been in a bunch of pieces lately, so although I might not be able to put them all together into a pretty picture for you, I'll lay them all out...
Our theme? Thanksgiving.
Mental status? Drained. A fighting soul at the start of the holidays... Hanging on. Working on being positive and leaning on God and those I love.
First of all,
Happy Thanksgiving.
On that note...
It's not as easy as it was in first grade. After we learned about Pocahontas and the Pilgrims, we'd make "thankful turkeys." Did you ever do that as a kid? You know, trace your hand on construction paper, cut it out, make a turkey out of it, and write down something you're thankful for on each "finger"? Or cut out a bunch of red, orange, green, and brown "feathers" and glue them to a paper plate? Yep, and each "feather" was for writing a "thankful" thing on. I can remember writing, in my big, cautious first grade print (with a "type 1 pencil," mind you...) my very longly thought about and deliberate "items of thankful."
Ever long for that? Wish it was that easy? It can be. I think? Isn't it just us who makes it difficult on ourselves?
We ALL have something to be thankful for. No, not something... Lots of things.
I've been in pain, I've cried myself to sleep, I've screamed at the top of my lungs, I've said things I've regretted and blamed people for things that didn't even have someone to blame. I've contemplated upon the meaning of life. And death. And why we do any of this. Why life's not fair. Why life's beautiful.
I don't have many answers sometimes, but I do know one thing - I have life. You have life. That right there is a crazymiracle, an amazing amazing thing, that we have to be thankful for. Wow.
But what about the pain? Well someone right now is hurting just a tad worse. What about this? Someone somewhere is going through something just a little heavier. Their question is just a little more pressing. You had to fight for a few breaths? Well at least you eventually got them.
God doesn't make mistakes. He didn't give you the gift of that last breath you took, yep, right now - that one too - for nothing. The fact that God is even here is something in itself to be thankful for. Without Him? I won't even let myself think that way... I do know though... we wouldn't even have that one constant amazing (no matter how big or small) peace of knowing that no matter what, we are not alone.
I know it's hard. Trust me... I know. Just last night, upon crashing down like I've never crashed before, I sobbed and shook trying to think of something to be thankful for. My fiance was with me, and I knew I had him. I knew I didn't like to let him see me broken. I knew love was accepting of the good and the bad. And I know I do have that... love. And family. And friends. And a beautiful angel puppy. And many material possessions. But still, what about the deeper? At the end of the day, when forever comes to an end, what's left? What is there to be thankful for?
Silence the screams, the whispers, whatever it is that is standing on your chest making you unable to maintain consistent breath, let alone stand. Or walk. Or try.
And realize, we are blessed. We may not know why or be able to believe that we are, or maybe we totally are stoked and think we are amazingly enabled and have been blessed beyond measure. Whatever period of life you're in right now, embrace gratitude. Look beyond the now. See beyond the why.
We all have something. And we are all something to someone and have more than we allow our eyes to see.
Let us rise up and be thankful; for if we didn't learn a lot today, at least we learned a little, and if we didn't learn a little, at least we didn't get sick, and if we got sick, at least we didn't die; so, let us all be thankful.
Buddha
I thank God for this most
amazing day;
for the leaping greenly
spirits of trees
and a blue true dream of sky;
and for everything
which is natural, which is
infinite, which is yes.
e. e. cummings
If you just look at all that already exists in your life, all that you
already have: unlimited air to breathe, ample lighting to see, music to
hear, books to read, stars to dream by, trees to gaze at, floors to
dance on, friends to cavort with, enemies to befriend, strangers to
meet, woods to walk through, beaches to comb, rocks to scale, rains to
cleanse you, rivers to float you, animals to comfort you, you do have to
admit, there's more of it than you could ever, ever, ever spend.
Mike Dooley
So on that note, look up. If it's hard? This too shall pass. And if it's amazing and lovely? Be just a tiny bit extra thankful. :)
Lastly, please please take a few moments to read what Angie Smithjust posted. She lost her baby earlier this year and beautifully explains how human she is, yet at the same time, how dedicated she is to trying to trust in His plan. She inspires me beyond words.
We both know "extra" pain, so I can feel each word she writes. The sentences she writes have been in my head, too. The doubts she feels like she should apologize for. The questions. The good days, the bad days, the persistent refusal to let go of whatever good can be found. Anyways.... this post... it's beautiful, just read it. And be blessed.
My brother in law Greg posted this the other day, and I have to admit that it got me thinking.
Saying thank you to God in the midst of our circumstances is definitely different than saying thank you for them. And yet, scripture tells us to do both.
I have had a bad week. I have cried until my eyes were bloodshot and the sheets were soaked with grief. I pretty much told God that we would have to talk about it later. I stared at my Bible on my nightstand and then reached for the book next to it instead. I take a lot of opportunities on this blog to show you my adoration for the Lord. Every word I have written has come from my heart, and I love Him more than I could ever begin to describe.
Really. Truly.
But I didn't want to talk to Him this week.
As a sidebar, I am sure that the God of creation is getting a kick out of me actually writing out the fact that I was acting like a 5 year old.
In a sense, I feel like these words may cause some of you lose a little respect for me, because you may have an image of me, kneeling by candlelight with my Bible while my children sew doilies and laugh about the preposterous things that society is presenting on prime time television.
So, I try. I really do. I look for Him everywhere, in everything. I talk to Him like He's right next to me, and I feel more safe in the presence of God than I could describe in words.
But.
Thank Him for the death of my child?
That's hard.
Monday was particularly bad for me. It was raining here, and the world just felt all wrong. Todd suggested I go to the gym and get away for a little while, so I did. I had my music full-blast, which, as I soon discovered, does not prevent God from speaking. I was staring outside at the wet road, running away from Him, content to keep up the pace.
I started thinking about what Greg had written, and I imagined how beautiful it would be for me to have the kind of faith that thanks God for death. I admire those who can do it. I want to be a woman like that, who is so fixed on eternity that this world never shakes her. I told myself that if I could just get the words out, He would transform my heart to believe that I meant them.
Lord, thank you for...
I couldn't finish the sen tence. I started crying and running faster. I put on a song I love about what the crucified life looks like and I tried again.
Lord, thank you for...
Nope.
I closed my eyes and just listened to the words, and after a few minutes I felt myself start to long for Him the way I haven't in the last week.
I had a good talk with God... At one point, I told Him I didn't understand how in the world I could thank Him for the death of my daughter. I told Him (I'm just being honest here) that I didn't think I could ever say those words.
How sweet and reverent of me.
Maybe I should post a doily pattern instead.
But as my Bible study leader Ms. Nancy says, "He loves you right where you are, but He loves you too much to leave you there." The beautiful thing about our Lord is that He doesn't mind our questioning, as long as we do it with hearts that are sincere in longing for truth. I want to be right with God. I want desperately to bring Him glory. But sometimes, I just have to shake my head and say, "I don't get it, Lord. I don't know that I have it in me this time..."
Later that night I took Ellie and Abby to run errands with me, and on the way home we stopped by this new Thai restaurant to get some take-out. While we were waiting, we found a little table in the corner and started talking about how the day had been. I told them I missed Audrey, and as soon as I said it, I remembered something that Ellie had said in prayer.
"Ellie, you know how sometimes I ask you to tell God something that you are thankful for?"
She nodded.
"And you know how sometimes you say that you are thankful that God took Audrey away?"
She nodded again.
"Why do you say that, honey?" My voice cracked. She looked at me like she didn't understand why I was so confused.
"Because she's in heaven, momma. And she is so happy. So we say 'thank you. And we will see her again.'"
"So no matter what, Ellie, you can say thank you? Even if you don't like it?"
"Yeah."
"So would you say 'thank you' if someone stole your bike?" I studied her face.
"No."
"Well then, what would you say?"
"I would say 'would you please give my bike back?'"
I laughed out loud.
Because it made sense to me. I am just human, and you know what? It isn't going to be tied up in a neat bow. I can say all the fancy, pretty words that come to mind, and at the end of the day, sometimes I just want my bike back.
Maybe you do too.
We all want to feel like our hurts have been redeemed, don't we? If we could just see the big picture, and all of the things that God sees, maybe it would be easier to thank Him for the things we shake our fists at. The things that cannot be fully redeemed in this life.
For those of you who have read my blog for awhile, I won't have to explain this photo. A few weeks ago, I heard Abby yelling, "I figured it out, mommy!!!! Come see!!! Now it's going to be so great!!!" I started walking toward her room, and this is what I saw.
We want to fix it in this life, don't we?
And it hurts so much that we can't.
It will be redeemed, friends.
Maybe not here, and maybe not soon, but it will be redeemed. So, in the meantime and in the midst of great disappointment, may we keep our eyes on He Who knows what we do not.
I am going to give you a Thanksgiving challenge, and I want you to know that I will be taking part in it as well. Sometime today, I want you to find a quiet moment in your day to sit in the presence of the Lord. Write down one thing that you are thankful for.
And here's the catch.
It has to be something you don't feel thankful for. It may be something you are carrying with you everyday, and haven't found a way to let go of. A divorce, a death, a loss, a deep wound, a regret you can't shake.
I want you to write the words. "I am thankful that..."
You might not feel like you mean them yet. That's okay.
Tuck the paper away in a book, put it on your nightstand, throw it in the trash if you must, but write the words. There is astounding beauty in obedience-the act of trusting the Lord with the parts of life you want to cling to the most. I am praying that the Lord will take this seed, this offering, this piece of crumpled paper, this giving of thanks, and He will begin to grow a tree of beauty in our souls.
I am praying for you all. May we all remember this Thanksgiving as the one where we learned what it looks like to start thanking God for it all.
Today, Haylie turns 4. I can't believe it. It seems like just yesterday, I brought home this teeny tiny little perfect thing, yet at the same time? I can't imagine my life without her.
I was never much of an animal person. We always had a family dog, but I don't think I ever cared one way or another. If I had grown up without a dog and then got one later, it probably would have ended up like the fish tank... or the bunny... or the goat I always wanted but never got... all good ideas gone wrong.
So in the fall of 2004, when my world was falling apart, I randomly decided I needed a little dog. I was on a road trip with my mom when I told her my idea. I truly think I was just as shocked as she was.
I sometimes get random "great ideas," and thankfully those closest to me "get" it and know to just wait it out and I'll be over it soon. Ideas, hobbies, whatever... I'm always onto something new, but it usually blows over pretty fast. But if it's here to stay? You'll know it.
Anyhow, I spent that weekend on the internet looking at small dogs and learning about the breeds. (I'm not a dog person, remember? I was clueless. All I knew was whatever I learned from the german shepherd and golden retrievers we had over my lifetime.) I decided I needed a shih tzu, but I wasn't exactly sure if I wanted a purebred. A rescue maybe? A mix? A ha, I found it - something called a "shichon" - a shih tzu/bichon frise cross. They were so adorable, and all I could find was information going on and on about how sweet they are. I randomly ran a search for my area and "shichon" and I couldn't believe it when the top hit was a message board post by a breeder with my area code. Was it too good to be true? Was it destined to be? I grabbed my cell and made the call. Yep, sure enough, a bichon dad and a shih tzu mom were going to have a litter of puppies, and the breeder was right in my area. 20-30 minutes away. Plus, at the time, "designer dogs" - especially shichons were really rare and expensive so what were the odds?? Apparently the breeder had received a lot of inquiries but she said if she got my deposit before the others (which were coming in the mail), I could have first female pick.
So bless my dear parents for not going crazy when I told them that I was getting a shichon and I had to go meet the doggie parents and give this random lady my deposit. Ha! I kind of counted on yelling and reminders of the fish and the bunny but after a "Let me talk to your dad about this," and 20 minutes of a "discussion" (you know, when the parents get all serious, shut the door and you can hear them trying to keep their voices low as they "discuss"?)... they said as long as I paid for her and would help pay for her food, grooming, bills, etc., they were fine with it. What?! I had absolutely nothing to say. That's NOT how my parents are. Ever. Never ever.
What in the world had gotten into them? What was up with this story? It was surely meant to be because I found my crazy-rare breed, I found a breeder who wasn't even a half hour away, my parents were 100% fine with it... It was totally unreal. But later, it all made sense. Both God and my parents knew that I needed this baby girl. I guess my parents somehow knew how lonely I was inside my self-built shell, and I know they were just as shaken as I was over some additional health obstacles that came up just a month or two prior. Although no one ever said a word, I know they saw that I HAD to have this puppy. I needed a reason to get up in the morning. I needed someone to adore. I spent too many nights crying alone, and somehow, I like to think that they saw that in their hearts.
I know God did.
So that's the story of Haylie, the furbaby daughter that no one ever believed I was serious about until they saw that she had every single piece of my heart. That's the story of the little princess who, surprisingly enough, is just like her mommy - hater of mornings, lover of naps, quite a bit finicky and persnickety, either 100% or 0% snugly - never in between, naive, loving, a tad stubborn, cautious, inquisitive, scared, persistent, sassy, and capable of engaging you and melting your heart. That's the story of the 11 pounds who gives me a reason to hold on in the middle of the longest night, the one who lays with me when I'm in pain or coming out of anesthesia. She's been with me through the hardest 4 years of my life, and in return, she's the most spoiled, loved, cared for little princess you will ever hear of. After all, she pretty much saved my life. And that's a big deal for a tiny little girl!
Now beside my bed I kneel I pray the Lord my soul to heal If God will take away this pain I vow to love myself again
Sometimes I can't help but cry My soul is heavy; so alone am I Forgiven, loved, enabled... I know While feeling so small, afraid, alone
But while suffocating in waters deep He holds me as I sob and weep He whispers, Child, it's all right now I try to believe although I don't know how
Terrified by the past that scares I'm surrounded by angels and need not fear Loosen my grip on the scars and shame It's time to move on; there's healing to claim
Now I lay me down to sleep Although I cry and though I weep You'll strengthen me to make it through With Your sweet peace to begin anew
Well yayyyy for me! I scored impressively high on the Post-traumatic Stress Disorder indexing test!
Yes, I'm thrilled, aren't you?
Riiiiight.
See, I knew it all along. I knew living through the hell I lived through for most of my childhood could not possibly leave me untouched. I see the scars every day. So almost two weeks ago, when my new way-better-than-the-old-one therapist double checked her math and told me the thrilling news, I guess I didn't even care.
It's like, Tell me something I don't know, right?
But let's forget about me for awhile. There is something dynamic about childhood stress (specifically life-threatening illness-induced stress) and trauma. I love to research it and the more I learn, the more I realize that the field is relatively untouched. The more I realize that these are the things that have molded me into who I am today. The more I understand, yet at the same time? The more I fear.
What is PTSD?
Post-traumatic stress disorder (PTSD) is real. It's deeper than living though daily memories of some vicious trauma in your past. It's more than a remembrance. It's a consistent dwelling, something that haunts you every second of every day. It's a ghost that refuses to leave, a gripping fear that never lets go. It's flashbacks, nightmares, behaviors, anxieties, ideas, and much more than just the normal growth through grief or the decision that something was a bad memory but is now over.
Traumatized Troops
The federal government pours billions of dollars into treating (and researching) returning troops with PTSD. If you pay even a little bit of attention to the news, you probably have heard how the soldiers come back with wounds far deeper than their physical battle scars. It's awful. Thankfully for them though, the government is involved in an almost guilty way, so they will not deny their cause.
Traumatized citizens... and more specifically?
The little soldiers who live to tell
But anyone in medicine knows that research is miniscule without funding. Any new findings are futile unless grants are in place. So PTSD victims with torments from rape? Child abuse? Mass trauma? That's where the funding lacks. We are at the mercy of the findings of the soldiers' cases. We sick kids who grow up? In the past, most of us didn't live to tell our stories. Many still don't. But those of us who do? I guess we stay silent.
There is so much unknown about these precious children who do live through their illness, cope with it, and manage (healthily or not) the scars. I'm motivated and we'll see where this interest takes me and my career. There are people out there who need help. There are kids who are going to outlive any stats from when I was their age. Medicine is getting so advanced and as a result, capable of saving so many children. Because so many more kids are living, I really think there is going to be a huge increase in pediatric illness-initiated PTSD, whether it appears in childhood or lasts (or recurs ) in adulthood. I'm excited about this.
But on the other hand, I'm petrified.
To find out why, please let me first share what I know with you. I know all of this from my life and from hours and hours of research and talking to any doctor who would listen... So here goes...
Children coping with their illness
Powerful influences on perception, development & adulthood
Children are fascinating. Remember, especially at a young age, children cannot process their perceptions like you or I could as an adult. They take things at face value and notice things you or I would never even think about. They "feel" a little deeper. Their innocence is still beautifully intact. To many of them, the world knows no pain.
Then bring in a trauma. Abuse. Molestation. Observing domestic abuse. The sights. The sounds. The pain. It hurts inside and outside. Why? A 4 year old little girl doesn't know.She just know it hurts. Pain is pain, and when she's a child, pain is fear. Pain scars just a little deeper. Instead of losing her innocence little by little, it's ripped apart prematurely - not minding that her skin hasn't had the chance to toughen up yet. It's raw. It bleeds. And it happens all at once, leaving her so vulnerable to the same elements that the other kids can handle with relative ease.
The little girl moves on and assumes this is how life is supposed to be. After all, she knows no difference.
Fast forward a little and she realizes, Wait a minute. Nobody else is like this. I'm not normal. All my friends at school don't have to do this. They don't cry all night long. They don't go to the hospital. Their daddies aren't in jail. Their arms aren't bruised. Whatever the case is, her comfortable standard of normalcy is now in flux. The little mind cannot understand.It notices, it observes, it questions, but it cannot understand.
You know how children constantly ask questions and want to know why this, why that? Well this is no exception. Why am I different? Why do I have to deal with this?Their new realization spurs a cascade of questions. Of course, we all know there are no answers, but children need answers. It's instinct. So they make their own. It's my fault. It's Mommy's fault. It's God's fault. It's SOMEONE'S fault. Things can't just "happen" - little minds don't understand how to accept the unknown as an answer.
And then there's the whole fairness thing. "Why" and "It's not fair!" are little kids' favorite things in the world to say. Alllll day long. It's right or wrong, fair or unfair.These little fighters are no different. They have the same questions, only their same questions mean just a little bit more than the exact same words from the "other" kids...
I could go on forever, and sometime I probably will, but that's just a little intro of how PTSD impacts children.
What about me? An intro to my journey...
So, at the raw age of 5, chronic illness came and robbed me of a childhood I never knew and left me with memories I couldn't overcome.
Fast forward to today.
I've been "officially" diagnosed with PTSD even though as I said, it is really no surprise.
Pretend you have a huge cut and you neglect to go to the hospital and get it stitched up. It may get infected, heal wrong, or leave a larger scar than if it were carefully mended. Now imagine a hurting child. When she doesn't experience immediate therapeutic interventions, her emotional wounds don't heal correctly. Harmful ideals are pursued and wrong thought processes are established.
16 years of that can sure do a lot of harm. I'm haunted day and night, and I deal with fears I cannot defeat. Things press so hard that I can't shake them. Rumination, nightmares, anxiety over simple things... I see it every single day. Additionally, working in the very place that used to send me into fits (the h-o-s-p-i-t-a-l... too bad I was a good speller at that age...) isn't necessarily easy. Far from it.
I came to a decision that if I ever wanted to get some peace, I wouldn't be able to do it on my own. I've watched myself spiral downward and the oppression has become too much to bear. The panic attacks and nervous breakdowns have gotten past the point of ridiculous and I'm so weak. My defenses are down - nothing can hurt me any more than I have already experienced, so a month or two ago, my thought was, why not try whatever I can? I have nothing to lose.
Since my previous therapist wasn't helping one bit, I did something courageous. I picked up the phone and called what I had researched and decided to be the best option in my area. They paired me with a new therapist in their practice who is absolutely amazing. We are a lot alike and she intuitively knows my strengths and weaknesses. She's so friendly and encouraging, and being ever-so-careful with my scars and broken parts, she is leading me on a path to wellness.
Tomorrow is my third visit to her, and we are officially beginning one of the hardest yet most effective PTSD treatments: Prolonged Exposure Therapy.
Prolonged Exposure Therapy
Imagine it's winter time. For some odd reason, you are determined to go swimming. You can inch into the water slowwwwly because it's soooooo cold and the icy water is so painful, or you can jump right in, and feel indescribably miserable for just a few seconds.
Yep, it's kind of like that.
I can go through therapy forever and gradually get better, or, with Exposure Therapy, I can go through a few months of intense treatment where I consistently force myself to face my fears, "triggers," memories, etc. (in a "safe" environment) until they become less threatening.
I'll tell you more about it later because of course, there is so much to it, but for now, just think of me as tomorrow, I start what will be a really hard, but hopefully really rewarding journey.
Here I go...
I'm serious about this. Scared out of my mind? Yes. But I keep reminding myself that I'm no stranger to fear, new things, and definitely pain... so I think I'll be okay.
It's time to face my past.
It will always be a part of me, but I must realize that it lacks the power to threaten me.
After all, I am determined, and I am telling you right now, once and for all: I cannot and will not fail.
Will you come along?
I invite you to join me on my journey not out of pity or lack of things to blog about. (Quite the contrary...) I'm a private person but I've spent 16 years mostly hiding this part of my life, and I realize that I need to overcome all traces of denial and any feeling of inadequacy and shame. Secondly, maybe there is someone out there who can be strengthened by my journey or inspired to start their own. And lastly? Because we're all in this crazy miracle together.
Is anybody out there Does anybody see That when the lights are off Something's killing me
I know it seems like people care Cause they're always around me But when the day is done and everybody runs
Who will be the one to save me from myself Who will be the one who's there And not ashamed to see me crawl Who's gonna catch me when I fall
When the show is over And it's empty everywhere It's hard to face going back alone So I walk around the city Anything, anything to clear my head I've got nowhere to go Nowhere but home
Who will be the one to save me from myself Who will be the one who's there And not ashamed to see me crawl Who's gonna catch me when I fall
It may seem I have everything But everything means nothing When the ride that you've been on That you're coming off Leaves you feeling lost
Is anybody out there Does anybody see That sometimes loneliness Is just a part of me
Who will be the one to save me from myself Who will be the one who's there And not ashamed to see me crawl Who's gonna catch me when I fall And not ashamed to see me crawl Who's gonna catch me when I fall
I'm not a Broadway show kind of person. Or any kind of show kind of person. Or a concert person (sans Colbie Caillat who is ammmmazing!!) Or a movie theater person. Blame it on technology, my ridiculous self-imposed go-go-go mentality, the fact that I have an iPhone (Blackberries aren't called "crackberries" for nothing - then swap it with the 10000x times more amazing iPhone? Exactly.) But whatever the cause - you get what I'm trying to say.
I'm the kind of person who DVRs everything and watches it later so I don't have to sit through the commercials. Even at that, I have to be on my laptop or working on school or a project or just something. (Unless I can get settled down enough to just chill on the couch with my fiance... but, of course, I DO talk through half the show regardles, lol) I wait till new movies come out on DVD so I don't have to sit and be quiet for 100 entire minutes. (I'm not quiet. I like to chat. Things in a movie will remind me of something very important to say, or I'll get confused in a plot and ask questions every 2.7 minutes... Don't believe me? I can give you a 42-page list of references)
Now I DO go to movies, and I DO go to shows (especially while on vacay!), and I can't deny I have this inner grief over the tragedy of Disney's EPCOT getting rid of the Barbie LIVE show. (Come on - she had a PINK convertible! And Brigette and Ken and everyone was there - way fun! Or at least I thought so the last time I saw it, ohhhh, maybe 12 years ago?) and I really gotta have my fix of stuff like that. But until I'm there, I'm usually not psyched. (Unless the event in question is Disney Princesses on Ice. Don't go ther
e. Or Colbie Caillat. Best concert ever.)
ANYWAYS, I heard Legally Blonde the musical was coming to Cleveland's Playhouse Square. When I was younger, I saw the Broadway Beauty & the Beast there. (If it comes back, I'm so there!) Then, last August, Jonathan and I went with a bunch of his family to go see the Lion King. A year or two before that, I went to NYC with Jonathan's mom, sister, and another friend of ours, and we saw the Lion King on REAL Broadway. ;-) So when I heard about Legally Blonde (that movie is SO an Amanda movie!!) coming, I gave it a thought or two...
For those of you who are missing out on one of the most quintessential girl movies ever, here's the scoop:
It's Spring semester at UCLA. The Delta Nu sorority sisters are certain that their sorority president, Elle Woods, will soon be engaged to her boyfriend, the eminently eligible Warner Huntington III. But instead of proposing, Warner breaks up with Elle. He explains that he's going to Harvard law school next fall and wants someone "serious" in order to fulfill his life plan. Heartbroken, Elle puts down the credit card, hits the books, and sets out to go where no Delta Nu has gone before: Harvard Law. She devises a strategy to show Warner that she's "serious": Step 1) Get nto Harvard Law; Step 2) Impress him with her high IQ; Step 3) the Wedding! Elle finds out that getting into Harvard Law was the easy part. She's underestimated by her overachieving classmates, kicked out of her first class, and worst of all, learns that Warner has a new girlfriend! But Elle is one blonde who doesn't take no for an answer, and she turns things around. She gets a lot of help from frineds: Paulette, her stylist, Emmett, her professor's assistant; and her Delta Nu sisters, who appear as her own personal Greek Chorus. And no one can forget Bruiser, her best friend on four legs! (Taken from the playbill, but you can go to Wikipedia to learn tons more!)
Glittery, musical, modern, and cute? Definitely. But fear not, you "serious" pink-hating people out there. Just as the story aims to prove, things are much deeper than face value. Critically acclaimed, this one is great on all ends.
Who among us can't remember a time when we've been judged for the way we look or don't look, or had a dream we never, ever imagined would come true? It's no wonder audiences around the country have fallen in love with the plight of Elle Woods in Legally Blonde The Musical. First came the moving starring Reese Witherspoon as the heroine who proved that beauty and brains do go hand in hand. And, following the film's wildly successful run in movie theaters and on DVD, it was a clearly no-brainer that the show would be transformed into a Broadway musical. The kudos - which include a slew of Tony and Drama Desk nominations - have com from everywhere. Fox News pronounced Legally Blonde The Musical to be "an infectious good time!" New York Times critic Ben Brantley summarized the fee-good plot, explaining, "A girl can be a powder puff and a power broker at the same time. You see, Legally Blonde let's a gal have it all." You go girl!Linda Feagler
I'll be the first to say I figured it would probably be cheesy, but come on, pink, sparkles, and the cutest little puppy? K fine. I couldn't resist. Jonathan couldn't come on any of the nights I could (our school schedules clash soooo badly this semester!!) so it turned into a future sister-in-law girls night out - just me and Jon's big sis Nicole.
Can I just tell you that this show was sooooo fab?? It was cute, clever, hilarious, hottttt (the UPS man? I told Nicole she was screaming the loudest of the whole crowd when he did his little dance across the stage) and, as a true Legally Blonde knowledgeable professional, I can assure you that there were many differences in the plot and the dialogue. It was very fresh (a lot of the humor wasn't recycled from the movie or written by random old guy trying to think of references to today's culture) and I liked how the story was just a tiny bit different. I can't say it's as good as the movie - seriously now, what is? Reese Witherspoon was FAB! - but it definitely held its own! And it was PINK and GLITTER and TINY PUPPY and ROMANCE and GIRL POWER (Can you hear the Spice Girls circa late 90s-00 screaming "Gurrrrl Powwahhhh!") overload!! A few of my favvvvve things!
So I say, go see it. It is so much fun. Take your besties. Get glammed up and feel fabulous. Because, as I'm sure Elle would tell ya, you really are! ;-)
I am 22 & currently spend my days nannying my itty bitties + going to college (working on my nursing degree, goal: pediatric oncology) & am honored to be a published writer in a nursing anthology & a contributor to many scrapbooking publications. i love hanging with my amazing friends, sister & family. i love my baby puppy haylie brooke and our silly doggie ri-ri. in my rare spare time, i read & get crafty. i thrive on organization, my mac repertoire, learning & absolute fabulosity. my favorite place in the world is paris. my favorite color is pink. i love being a nurse & i believe each one of my patients is precious. i'm a night owl & wish my lifestyle promoted such habits. i like lazy jammie days. i believe in god and am thankful for his hand on my life. i believe that life is too short to be anything but happy, & i’m thankful that a chronic liver disease + the effects of a car accident have taught me important values that most people learn far too late. i hope that the world will find hope, and my idea of a good day is one in which i made someone smile :)
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person. Or any kind of show kind of person. Or a concert person (sans Colbie Caillat who is ammmmazing!!) Or a movie theater person. Blame it on technology, my ridiculous self-imposed go-go-go mentality, the fact that I have an iPhone (Blackberries aren't called "crackberries" for nothing - then swap it with the 10000x times more amazing iPhone? Exactly.) But whatever the cause - you get what I'm trying to say.
Now I DO go to movies, and I DO go to shows (especially while on vacay!), and I can't deny I have this inner grief over the tragedy of Disney's EPCOT getting rid of the Barbie LIVE show. (Come on - she had a PINK convertible! And Brigette and Ken and everyone was there - way fun! Or at least I thought so the last time I saw it, ohhhh, maybe 12 years ago?) and I really gotta have my fix of stuff like that. But until I'm there, I'm usually not psyched. (Unless the event in question is Disney Princesses on Ice. Don't go ther
