Singing in the Rain

Dear Jane:

We are just starting our first egg donor cycle after 3 years and many failed attempts. A very close family member is about 6 months pregnant and will be visiting other family nearby next weekend. I don't want to see her because I am not only envious but the ugly word, jealous. I have never really even asked about the pregnancy. Pretty much avoided the topic at all costs and the rest of the family have been gracious enough to do the same. Thankfully, every one lives out of town.

Question: Do you think it will be easier for me to just take the plunge and see her this weekend or to keep putting it off until the inevitable? I just don't know how I will react and am afraid of falling apart. On the other hand, maybe I won't feel much and realize the fear itself was worse than facing it.

Signed,
Avoiding the Baby Bump

Dear Avoiding:

In Mansfield Park, Austen writes of two cousins growing up together, "Children of the same family, the same blood, with the same first associations and habits, have some means of enjoyment in their power, which no subsequent connections can supply."

Just look at Elizabeth clomping through the mud in Pride and Prejudice to come to her sister's aid to get some sense of where Austen places the importance of being there for family. If Jane were here, she'd lend you her favourite dress and sit with you as you got ready so you could steel yourself for the meeting and jump back to that moment in your head any time you needed to escape the room. But she'd make you go for the sake of family.

That's what Jane would do.

But what should you do?

If she were a friend, I would tell you that you should do whatever you need to do to get through that weekend without creating a larger problem for yourself down the road. But, if you were to do what you want to do (avoid the visit), I think you're setting yourself up for more work down the road: family has a funny way of being difficult to avoid at times and you don't want the first visit to be during an even more emotionally-intense gathering (such as a holiday or a life-cycle event).

It's about taking control for yourself and taking power away from that meeting. The control is that you're creating the terms of the visit. The power comes from the fact that the longer you wait, the more your fears build and the harder it will be.

It's not that family should be held to a different standard than friends, but it's harder to disentangle yourself from family therefore it's more important to commit the energy to the relationship. In other words, as much as it sucks, unlike a friend you can avoid, you either have to remove yourself from family events and miss out on important moments with people who have known you your entire life (not to sound like a hysterical elderly aunt lecturing you on the importance of family) or you have to see these people because you can't pick another family to hang out with instead. People who don't have the support of family are probably better at understanding how much is missed by being estranged from relatives than those who do have a strong relationship with their family.

You need to also consider the message your actions send. Think of it this way: there are acute problems and there are chronic problems. Acute problems either come on suddenly or come knowingly and literally blot out your ability to focus anywhere but inwardly. Death, pregnancy loss, and divorce all have an intense emotional period--an electrical storm of mourning followed by a drizzle that can alternate between a summer shower and a grey, dreary, stay-inside steady misting.

Chronic problems such as infertility are more like living in Seattle. It's always raining. Therefore you learn how to work your way around it, even if the rain still gets under your skin sometimes. You bring an umbrella. Seeing this cousin is sort of like choosing to open that umbrella and get to work on time--it isn't pleasant and you'd rather stay in bed all day, but it's a task that must be done. And you'll be happy that you opened the umbrella and got to work when you get that paycheck at the end of the week.

Perhaps too much analogy?

In general society, we usually give a get-out-of-obligations pass to those undergoing an acute problem though even that pass has an expiration date. Yet we rarely excuse those with a chronic problem. Why? Because we're bloody unfair. And because a chronic problem is like living in Seattle--it's not a passing thunderstorm; it's a very wet lifestyle.

In the immortal words of Captain Monterey Jack on The State: you deal or you die.

And by deal, I don't mean going through life pretending that you don't have a chronic problem. I mean that you need to be mindful of your situation and aware of your personal limits and respect them. And at the same time, the rest of the world is expecting you to keep living as if it were bright and sunny outside. Since it isn't, you need to take steps to ensure that you remain dry.

So back to how your actions are interpreted. An outsider, even one who is aware of your situation, even one who is a close relative, may take your absence to mean that you can only be happy for them when you are happy yourself. Not that it's true, but that's how it may appear if you always saw your cousin when you were on equal footing and are now avoiding her since she is happy. An insider would understand self-preservation and the fact that this isn't about the person per se but about the pregnancy. But an outsider is bound to take it personally because it's the only explanation they can fully understand.

Since mending a relationship is harder to do than simply spending an afternoon together at this moment in time (and I am assuming that it is an average chronic day and not a flare-up period where you're processing results from a test or a failed cycle), I would go. But I'd take an extra large umbrella with me and this is how it would look:

I would start by calling or emailing your cousin and being upfront about how you may react and why. I would explain how happy you are for her. Your heart separates the pregnancy from the person and while you can be really thrilled for her that she is six months pregnant, you can simultaneously be feeling an intense amount of pain coveting what she has. It's not that you don't want her to have her pregnancy--you just want a child too. I would admit that you may cry and remind her that it isn't something she is doing or not doing. I would ask her to help you enjoy the day (and here is where you'd have to fill in your own needs and what could make the day easier). If you start from a place of explanation, she has two choices. She can be a caring family member and follow your lead and give you what you need. Or she can be self-centered in which you tried and she failed. But I'm going to guess that she'll come through for you since she also has a relationship to protect for the sake of family and knows the rule of not shitting where you eat.

The second part of the plan is to get ready for the meeting with a friend or your husband/partner. With the understanding that they are helping you steel yourself. They're helping you look good and feel good so you can mentally go back to that space of feeling good when the emotions start to overwhelm you. Take a photo in the moment with your phone and if you have to, duck into the bathroom and glance at that picture for a moment and remember that a half hour earlier you were in this space where you were comfortable and in a few hours, you'll be back in a place where you're dry and comfortable. Right now, you're standing in the rain. And it sucks to be wet (because you'll probably get wet even if you're carrying an umbrella), but towels and blankets are waiting for you at home.

Now you (yes, you--I'm talking to you. The one reading this advice column) need to weigh in. Put yourself in Avoiding's shoes and employ a what would Jane do attitude to give her advice on this situation. Leave a comment for Avoiding elaborating or contradicting my advice--just do it in a ladylike or gentlemanly way.

Sing a Song of Six Rents

Dear Jane: I had an amazing friend. She was a co-worker and we got each other through some real shit times at work. She is like the sister (honestly, the whole damn family) I never had.

When we moved last July, we kept in touch via e-mail. She is well aware of the fertility problems we have been through and I have always kept her up to date on our treatment. She has been there the whole way pulling for us. Until last September when I got an e-mail from her. She said she had good news: she was pregnant and expecting a little girl in March. I honestly had absolutely nothing but happiness for her. I must say I've been blissfully unfettered by jealousy or anything like that throughout our infertility treatment. And then I didn't hear from her again.

In October, I got a long e-mail: the baby didn't develop well, no kidneys, not enough amniotic fluid, etc. She was induced, delivered after 27 hours and the baby died immediately. They named her and buried her. She e-mailed me about two weeks after it happened and explained it was too hard to talk about on the phone.

So I didn't call. I should have. But I didn't.

And I didn't tell her a thing about what was going on with us. How do you tell the person who just lost their baby about trying to get pregnant? Within a few weeks, our infertility treatments really kicked up. We went through a canceled IUI, a canceled IVF cycle, another IUI, and Clomid to no avail. It is the second hardest thing I have been through after my mother's death. At the time I most needed a good friend, I didn't have anyone to turn to. I didn't tell her anything.

She e-mailed this week (the first time I have heard from her since the bad news) that she is pregnant again. I've sent several e-mails in the meantime with no reply. I'm still very happy for her, but I feel like I've lost the ability to relate. She seems exceptionally wrapped up in herself — mourning the loss, attending support groups, etc. And I understand that. I don't mean to sound self-centered, but at some point I want to ask — what about the shit I'm going through? My dad is dying. I'm moving overseas. And I can't get pregnant for love or money. She really used to care. I don't know how to proceed with our friendship. Is this something we should try and work out, or have we just grown too far apart? I feel like this is the time I should be there for her the most, and yet I almost hear myself asking, "What's in it for me?"

Signed,
Singing the Friendship Blues


Dear Blues:

In Pride and Prejudice, Mr. Darcy admits, "I have been a selfish being all my life, in practice, though not in principle." And while he may think that he is telling Elizabeth the most original thing in the world, I think at the root of it, we're all selfish in practice though few are also selfish in principle. We have good intentions of being thoughtful, caring individuals. And then human nature gets in the way.

Jane would never let pride be the reason to lose the friendship. She'd take a stroll through the garden and discuss Life with a capital "L" and by the end of the walk, both friends would come to an understanding. And we'd all learn a lesson and shut the book.

That's what Jane would do.

But what should you do?

If you take your problem back to its root, you would probably see that it has nothing to do with your infertility or her loss or any of the other factors we could point at to shoulder the blame. At the core is the fact that people are self-absorbed. You feel your own emotions so intensely that you can't believe someone else can't feel them vicariously--even a toned down version. If I were to rate my own emotional pain that I feel about infertility, I would give it a fair 10. It has literally driven me to my knees. So how could you not feel the emotions radiating off of me, even if you only receive the residue of my pain at a paltry 5? Or 3? Or even 1? Pain is still...painful. You would expect the person to feel something.

But maybe pain also has an oily outer coating that pushes away what anyone else is feeling, leaving each and every one of us self-absorbed. I think it is the rare person who is always thoughtful before being told.

I think the success of Rent by Jonathan Larsen is the proof in the pudding. We recognize ourselves in those characters even if we're not bohemians living in Alphabet City. Take a little listen and you'll notice that each of the characters barely acknowledges what anyone else tells them. They just stand on the stage and sing about their own pain (and though it's obviously a theater technique to cheat the body towards the audience, I think it's the perfect stance for these characters because no one actually seems to give a crap about what anyone else is saying).

At the funeral for one of their friends, two former couples get into a graveside fight. Joanne spits out to everyone: "We used to have this fight every night, she'd never admit I existed." Mimi responds without even acknowledging the point Joanne makes except to use it as a jumping board to sing about her own shit: "He was the same way! He was always run away, hit the road, don't commit, you're full of shit!" Beyond the fact that they're so self-absorbed that they're ruining everyone else's attempt at mourning, they're actually a damn good example of our natural tendencies to focus on ourselves and use another person's experience to explore our own thoughts and feelings.

Knowing that, don't take her actions personally...yet. The great philosopher, Maimonides, had a theory about the best way to give that can be co-opted to think about how we dole out attention to others. The lowest rung of his 8-rung ladder is that the person gives begrudgingly and not enough after being asked. So apply this to attention: the lowest way to give attention would be that the person needs to point out to you the fact that you're not listening to them and you partially tune-in and then bring it all back to you, giving a brief nod in their direction to indicate that you listened.

A much higher rung of this attention ladder would be that the person gives more than enough attention before being asked, not only providing a patient ear, but also asking pointed questions to help the speaker come to a better understanding of their own situation. In between are all the shades of grey where most of us exist. I think that all of us are capable of attaining one of the higher rungs with just a bit of effort and humility on our part: once the speaker points out how we're not listening, we need to apologize and start giving them what they need. Even the best mind-readers sometimes need a boost to know exactly what you're expecting at that time.

Mend the friendship by calling or writing your friend and explaining the situation. Start by apologizing for not calling after her loss and explain your reason and how you made that decision. Talk about how you regret that decision now because it may have sent the wrong message to her about how important she is to you or the distance you want from her. Explain not only that you need her now but how you need her now--"I need to be able to talk about our fertility treatments and get that support from you." Give her the space to admit her own needs. She may be so wrapped up in her fears about this pregnancy that she needs to focus inward for self-preservation. Think about whether or not you could live with that. Are you willing to allow her to turn inward and not be there for you during this time and leave the door open for her to return once she feels able to do so (there's no right answer--it's just a matter of drawing your own comfort zone)? Be clear about your needs while still trying to keep it natural--I mean, it's not completely helpful to say that you need a weekly email when you may need constant communication at one point in your cycle and barely any at another point. Instead, point out that need for support--via email, phone calls, visits--and explain that you want to be there for her as well.

After you've put your heart on the line and explained your needs, it's up to her to step onto the ladder and for you to determine which rung you're willing to accept as her upper limit. If she doesn't step up and meet you halfway, you have my full permission to turn your focus away from this friendship. But if she's the sister you never had, she sounds worth an explanation.

Now you (yes, you--I'm talking to you. The one reading this advice column) need to weigh in. Put yourself in Blue's shoes and employ a what would Jane do attitude to give her advice on this situation. Leave a comment for Blue elaborating or contradicting my advice--just do it in a ladylike or gentlemanly way.

The Tangled Web Indeed

Dear Jane,

We've been trying to conceive for a little while now - long enough that some of our friends have conceived, carried, and delivered not one but two consecutive children and are thinking about number three. Mostly, I try not to stomp all over their happiness with my grief.

However, I recently got an email from a friend to say she is moving in with her new boyfriend, and I bet I know what's coming next. A little history: after we started trying, this friend decided she wanted to get married and have kids, but unfortunately her then-boyfriend didn't agree. So she "accidentally" got herself pregnant, and when he left in disgust she had an abortion. A couple of months down the track they got back together and she did it again. This time, after the second abortion, he didn't come back.

Obviously, you have to be pretty fucked up to run your life like that, so I do feel for her. On the other hand, her actions make me kind of ashamed as a woman. I thought we dropped the dishonest manipulation when we got the vote? In any case, it doesn't seem fair that she should be able to fall pregnant with her new boyfriend when we're still trying. So my question is this: when (if) the announcement comes, do I really have to be happy for her?

Signed, How Do My Green Eyes Look To You


Dear Green:

Let's start out with the note you shouldn't send back when the announcement comes:

Congratulations! Looks like the third time is a charm!

Listen, you said it--not I--she is the embodiment of dishonest manipulation. And while Jane would certainly approve of resourcefulness, I think if we left the two of them alone in a room, Jane would kick her ass twelve ways to Sunday for marring the name of womanhood with dishonesty and cruelty. When you read her books, you can just tell that Jane Austen had mad ninja skills when it came to protecting the sisterhood.

That's what Jane would do.

But what should you do?

First and foremost, the worst thing you could do if that announcement comes would be to do nothing. You have to be proactive if you want to save yourself from the highly-uncomfortable "why aren't you happy for me" email or phone call that will come if you linger too long over the decision. Because what are you going to say? "Actually, I'm really not that happy for you because you have no business being a parent with your fucked-up ethics."

Truthful, but not very ladylike. Even Jane bit her tongue from time to time.

I don't know how much your emotions actually have to do with jealousy over her fertility and how much they have to do with your own cognitive dissonance over being friends with someone who is so untrustworthy. There are two pieces of information missing from your letter: why you two are still friends and do you feel comfortable confiding in her about your own situation.

To figure out your own course of action, you need to think about why you still have her in your life. I'm certainly not saying to drop-kick her as a friend. Camus (who perhaps isn't the best philosopher for thoughts on friendship considering his falling out with Sartre) said, "Friendship is not so simple. It is hard to get and takes a long time, but when one has it one cannot get rid of it, one has to face it."

And talk about having to face it--I mean, what's more in your face than a big round baby bump the third time around?

The fact that she is still in your life after everything she has done speaks loudly to the fact that there is probably more history here than you have shared in the letter--either she is part of your circle of friends and therefore comes with the package or she has been a friend for so long that your lives are too deeply entwined to simply cut her off with a simple snip of the garden sheers. I think you need to establish what you are still getting from this friendship before you can chart your own reaction.

If she simply comes as part of the package with a larger collection of friends, I would take her immediately to arm's length. If she's untrustworthy towards her boyfriends, she's probably not someone you feel safe confiding in with highly emotional information. When the announcement comes, offer a terse but pleasant congratulations. Don't ask more questions than necessary to be polite. Beg off baby showers and trips to maternity clothing stores with prior commitments. Send a gift or a response quickly when necessary. It cuts off many of the opportunities for your friend to push the issue about the genuineness of your happiness and it holds her firmly at arm's length.

It gets more complicated if she has somehow overcome the lack of trustworthiness to remain within your inner circle. At that point, this comes down more to you and how you see yourself. A fellow blogger once wrote a long post about why she writes thank you cards even though she never gets them in return for her gifts. She was the type of person who sent thank you cards. And it felt right to send thank you cards. It didn't matter what anyone else said or did in return, she sent them simply because they were part of who she wanted to be. If she is in your inner circle, this begs the question of what sort of friend do you want to be. It makes life a lot easier when you base your own reaction not in their worthiness or what they've done but in the person you want to be.

If you're the type of person who sends onesies the second the announcement comes and plans everyone's baby shower, I think your largest source of discomfort when the situation comes to a head will come from the fact that you are not behaving like yourself. When that happens, you're going to turn the anger onto yourself rather than the woman who has brought out this reaction in you. Screw that! You have enough on your plate to also be angry with yourself at the same time.

Remind yourself how you usually act, grit your teeth, and proceed to lessen the chance of cognitive dissonance. If you're the type of person who sends back a congratulations email and the requisite gifts but rarely becomes more involved in other people's pregnancies, I think you can do your bare minimum and feel good knowing that you remained true to your own vision of yourself. Again, this time, it may take some teeth gritting to be yourself, but if she is part of your inner circle and you don't want to lose the friendship, you need to extend to her the same actions and words you would anyone else in your inner circle.

If she knows everything that you're going through and she still thrusts her pregnancy information upon you, add freakin' insensitive to dishonest and manipulative. Beg off by pointing out your own situation. It's sort of like inviting someone who just lost their hair to chemotherapy to your big make-over party with an expensive stylist. Why the hell are you dragging them through that emotionally?

If at the end of all of this advice you realize that she is someone who can easily be cut from your life, it may be in your own best interests in the sense of self-preservation. I can't imagine that you get as much out of this relationship as she does knowing what you know. You don't need to make a big deal out of the ending of the friendship if she's far enough on your periphery of friends. A lady doesn't burn bridges when she's not forced to light a fire. Slinky slink away and sigh a deep breath of relief that you're not her boyfriend--past, present or future.

Now you (yes, you--I'm talking to you. The one reading this advice column) need to weigh in. Put yourself in Green's shoes and employ a what would Jane do attitude to give her advice on this situation. Leave a comment for Green elaborating or contradicting my advice--just do it in a ladylike or gentlemanly way.

What Would Jane Do?

Jane Austen knew how to create a good sassaholic--those women who both buck and embrace the social codes of their time. Emma declares herself a matchmaker and goes about butting into everyone's business in an effort to create couplehood. She meddles--but always in a way that has kindness as the driving intention. And Elizabeth, I mean how can you not love Elizabeth from Pride and Prejudice? When her sister is ill, she treks through the countryside to come to her rescue and shows up splattered with mud (that's the sassaholic in her) yet still has time to accept some good woo from Mr. Darcy (that's a chickie who understands that social codes exist for a reason).

At the end of the day, while they may be meddlesome or forward or brutally honest, they are also always ladylike. And when I am having one of those days when I'm finding it difficult to swallow what I really want to say, I take a deep breath and say to myself:

"What would Jane do?"

It's a question that serves well in coming up with a response that has a foot firmly planted in kindness (because my motto, like all doctors, is "first, do no harm.") while still kicking up that other foot in protest at all the insensitivities and thoughtlessness of this world.

So what can you expect from me when you ask for advice? An answer that first and foremost is well-intentioned and grounded in kindness. A solution that keeps in mind social codes while still helping you to buck the system with ladylike sensibilities. Social codes are there as guides--not boundaries. You can say "no" and you will say "no" and there is nothing unladylike about the word. Lastly, you will receive ideas that will help you find your own inner sass and remember that you have the potential to kick more ass than a ninja. Because you rock. In a nutshell.

After all I may sometimes come off as a bit in-your-face, telling strangers about my childrens' conception when they ask me if my twins are natural, but I also will always be kind. And I'll stop before I explain the inner workings of my hoohaahooterus. Because, come on, I'm a freakin' lady.

So welcome--grab yourself a cup of tea and a comfortable chair, yank off your white gloves and let's get down to business.

How Did I Get to Be One Smart Mama

Listen, I'll let you in on a secret. I'm not really one smart mama. I'm actually one slightly disorganized, often sleep-deprived, sometimes emotional woman who drinks a lot of coffee. But sometimes people write me for advice via my other blog Stirrup Queens and Sperm Palace Jesters. And it just felt like the right time to declare myself an advice columnist.

Oh, by the way, you can do that in my world--just declare yourself an advice columnist.

It also feels like there is a need for an advice column because as of late, there seems to be a lot of people who are having problems crop up that they don't want to talk about on their blog. Either they want to remain anonymous and a post would reveal too much about themselves. Or they know that the person they want to discuss is reading their blog. Things like that. So this felt like a good column to start.

But how is it different from other advice columns and why should you read mine or submit questions? Because I have an MFA in creative writing. So you know that it's at least going to be well-written. And I'm going to use that hard-earned MFA to draw in examples from literature, music, poetry, film, theater, art and famous quotations when giving you advice. Because isn't it good advice to live your life considering the eternal question: what would Jane Austen do?

This advice column is also different from any other that you've read even though mine can best be described as the Ethicist meets Carolyn Hax and has a love-child via IVF. First of all, you the reader is also the advice columnist. In my world, we all have good advice to pass along. Therefore, while I will post my feelings on the matter, I open up every post to your comments as well. It's like getting 20 advice columnists for the price of one. And not even the price of one because my column is free.

Though my life and heart are firmly ensconced in the infertility and pregnancy loss community, I will offer advice on a wide-range of topics from rude in-laws to husbands who never buy you flowers to how to get out of a baby shower. There is no problem or concern that is too bizarre or too off-topic. All letters will be posted anonymously and I reserve the right to edit them due to length or for clarity. I will post pretty much as often as I have a question, though I also reserve the right to make this more routine--like every other Monday. Subscribe with bloglines or a similar service if you're worried about missing a post.

And in reading this blog, please also weigh in with your own thoughts. Your own advice or the words you would use. And if you can, include your own references to song lyrics or art or literature. I ask that if you post advice, you refrain from mocking the writer or saying anything that would make the person feel like shit.

Oh...the title. Listen, I am one smart mama. And I don't mean "mama" in the mothering sense, though we did conceive twins via fertility treatments several years ago and we're trying for another child now. I mean "mama" in the sense of one who gives birth to ideas. Who will put an arm around you and give you a hug instead of mocking you or making you feel like crap about your concern. Who will hand you a cookie and a glass of milk if you're cycling or a huge French martini if you're not and say, "he does indeed sound like an ass." And I have to be smart if I have this many degrees...right?

So start sending your questions to thetowncriers@gmail.com and put One Smart Mama in the subject line. You'll get a form response back so you know that I have your message and then I'll get started thinking about your concern (and pester Josh if you need the male point of view). I'll post your anonymous letter and the answer here the moment I'm done.

Okay, any questions?

One Smart Mama

Under Construction
Explanation Coming Soon...

Who Am I? I Mean, Who Are We?

Meet Jane, otherwise known as Melissa and otherwise known after that as the Stirrup Queen. I have no qualifications to be an advice columnist except that people often email me directly asking me what I think or thanking me for comments I leave on their blog. It seemed like the next logical step in life to declare myself an advice columnist and get to work making snazzy pictures in Microsoft Paint and giving out my opinion willy nilly. Anyway, I've made myself an advice columnist so here it is. Read my advice and judge for yourself. If you think I give terrible advice, stop reading. If you think I give good advice from time to time, sign up on bloglines or add me to your daily round of websites you hit before getting down to work. And if you think I always give sound advice, then you are my new best friend and you should write me a fan letter and let me know so we can begin our life-long relationship of mutual admiration.

Every good pilot has her wingpeople and I am smart enough not to fly solo. Not only does the entire reader population serve as back-up when doling out advice by providing their own opinion, I have people that I turn to when tackling questions outside my ken.

Meet Josh

Josh is my resident male point-of-view. I turn to him for all questions regarding why men do what they do. I then berate him when he answers and ask him why men are so stupid and why can't they be more like women. I also rack his brain when I'm done racking my own for the best art, literature, film, and theater references to better elucidate my advice for your problem. He reads a lot of books and when he's not reading books, he is watching a lot of films. Therefore, he is the perfect brain to rack. Plus, I have easy access to him because he lives in my house. The Microsoft Paint version of Josh doesn't really do him justice. He's actually very cute with cool little glasses and a goatee. Plus, he's really really smart.


Meet Perspicacious Babe

Perspicacity: n. 1. Acuteness of perception or understanding.

Perspicacious Babe is my go-to person for questions of a bioethical nature. Having anxiety about starting IVF because you don't know what to do with those hypothetical excess embryos? Not sure whether you want to be a kidney donor for your abusive sister? Those sorts of questions are sussed out with the Perspicacious Babe. Those situations that you can't wrap your mind around? That's what the Perspicacious Babe loves to study. Plus, she's brilliant and she's a babe--the name says it all.

And when you get really really really far outside my ken, I turn to a wide-range of real world people who actually have some type of knowledge in that area to help me formulate my answer.

But, as always, the ever present warning label: this advice comes from a regular person just like yourself and should not replace the directions of doctors, therapists, or those who know you best.