Sass, Ass and Daisies

Hey, yall! Welcome! My name is Kate and I live in Dayton, Ohio. A tidbit about me: Legal drug dealer by day, professional horsewoman by night. I'm also a dog mom of three, cat mom of two, German auto enthusiast, and firefighter girlfriend. Welcome to my crazy, amazing, one hell of a life. 

[sassassanddaisies]

I Signed Up For WHAT?!

What a summer. And I, a lover of blazing hot days and the county fair, wished so hard for it to be over. When Tom told me in early April he’d be spending six weeks away from me, my world temporarily shattered. I DID NOT sign up to be apart from the love of my life for six weeks during our first summer together. I must’ve not read the fine print in our verbal relationship contract. It was terrifying, especially since our relationship was in its infancy. Eventually I took a deep breath, collected myself, and came up with a plan.

The first stent of his time away was in Georgia.

And in those two weeks, I threw myself into work and horses. And most importantly and after much thought: decided it was time to move in. So the weekend he came home, we spent it moving stuff from my place to his. After only five months of dating, we officially lived together. And it was, and still can be terrifying. The week he was home went by fast, but I was thankful to have him home every night because he was working at the base in Columbus and made the sacrifice to drive back and forth everyday.

Eventually goodbyes came again, as he set off on his first trip to Europe. Here he found a love for the Rhineland and German culture, as I assumed he would. However, while he was gone I received the news that I’d be spending a week in Pittsburgh for work, taking away from precious time we planned to spend together. I also took a trip to Dallas, to party like a legitimate rockstar with my favorite band, Bowling For Soup. I spoiled myself with a mani pedi while my aunt spoiled me with a four handed massage and tanning for my fair, Ohioian, Red headed skin. I went on to hang out with the band, drink my weight in tequila and Miller Lite, and chill with some of my favorite people. A canceled flight put me an entire day behind schedule, but when I got home, I put my head down and got to work on the homework for my meetings.

Tom came home Friday night, a day early! We got time together Friday night, Saturday and Sunday. A whole three days! Tom spent that time jet lagged and exhausted, but we had a low key weekend just enjoying being around each other. Monday morning, Tom dropped me off at the airport, and I headed to Pittsburgh and he and headed to the station. The time in Pittsburgh was the longest week of my life, and I anxiously awaited going home to Tom.

We spent the next three weeks together learning to live together. And in this time, Tom worked his ass off to finish his graduate program. Let me tell y’all, learning to live with another human after living alone for three years is hard. The tension was high and we fought. The couple that never fights, fought. But we always made up. We always got over ourselves. We’re two mature adults who have both been divorced before and communicate efficiently and effectively.

Before I knew it, Tom was on a plane to California. But not before finishing his graduate program and taking time to celebrate. The next set of two weeks went by seemingly faster than the previous five weeks we spent apart, and for that I’m thankful.

Finally, this past Saturday night, he walked through the door, ending our stent of weeks apart.

But, as anyone who’s associated with a firefighter knows, that time home isn’t really time home. He jumped right back into normal life this morning, leaving me alone again for 24-36 hours. However, the nights seem shorter and the time goes faster now that we’ve been apart for so long. I’ve learned to appreciate that we only get (at most) two nights apart rather than two weeks.

I know what I signed up for. And it’s a man who loves his daughter and I unconditionally, who works hard for us without complaining, and wants to give us the best life he can. And for that, it’s worth every day we’re apart and every anxious night he’s on duty. And even dealing with his crankiness when he’s had a sleepless night on the medic. I’m lucky, and I know it.

[sassassanddaisies]

So yeah, I got an abortion.

It’s April 2016.

I’m 21. I’m working at Tractor Supply full time while trying to finish undergrad. I’m the top sales person in our district, but still only make $8.50/hour with no commission. And it’s very apparent I’m an undervalued employee. My partner, Seth, is currently unemployed. He would find something eventually, I thought. Our relationship of three years is struggling. More than usual.

He’s abusive- both physically and mentally, but I don’t tell anyone. He had been for quite some time at this point. It had started with just degrading me. I could take it, I have tough skin. But the physical abuse was getting harder to hide. I wore sleeves and pants to cover bruises. But the bruised ribs from being slammed into the wall during our last fight still hurt.

I wake up on my morning off, and I’ve got a migraine and I’m nauseous. Nothing too out of the ordinary for a chronic migraine sufferer. And my boobs hurt. “Finally my period” I think to myself. I’m two weeks late. But that’s also pretty normal. I have a bicornuate uterus, so my uterus is heart shaped. And on top of this, have some pretty extreme endometriosis. And while I had just had a lot of this as surgically corrected as possible, the chances of me getting pregnant were, and still are pretty slim.

My doctor wanted to wait six months after my surgery before putting me on any kind of birth control, in order to let my uterus heal on its own. In fact, I was put on EXTRA hormones for this reason. So Seth and I used condoms and the pull out method. One night, I remember quite clearly asking him to pull out. He didn’t.

It was always very clear that he had wanted kids. At 21, I was dead set on that I never did. And this was something we had never quite seen eye to eye on. We couldn’t afford it, especially then. We could barely afford to keep our house and my horse, our bills and ourselves fed. We had gotten utilities shut off, borrowed money from his parents and he couldn’t even keep a job. Not to mention I was just trying to finish school and start a career.

So that morning, I finally took a test. A practice I had become quite familiar with, just due to never having a consistent cycle. I waited the three minutes and walked away. “Negative, now I’m going back to sleep, my head hurts.”

A few minutes later he comes in, “hey, you’re pregnant.”

I have never sat up and puked so fast in my life. Instantly, I knew I wanted an abortion. There wasn’t a doubt in my mind, I didn’t have to make a decision.

Within 10 minutes, I had called and scheduled an appointment for as soon as possible.

There was already a lot of animosity between Seth and I over my deicision, but he let me make it. He drove me to and from all of my appointments even. I had chose the clinic in Cincinnati, because they were the only one in the state that provided a medical abortion. I was not keen on the fact of just anyone digging around in my uterus, especially that soon after my surgery.

The first appointment was grueling. The state of Ohio mandates that you watch the ultrasound, listen to the heartbeat and watch an educational video to inform you what you’re about to do. The ‘good news’- at about they could not find a heartbeat or fetal pole.

A sign, at this stage, was that the baby was probably not going to be compatible with life. They recommended I call my OBGYN and inform them between appointments to see if they’d just do a D&C.

A call to my phenomenal OBGYN was not productive. Yet more red tape instilled by the government. I would have had to had active signs of a miscarriage to get my insurance to cover a D&C- otherwise it was still an abortion- still a procedure my doctor was not authorized to do, because my immediate health was not at risk.

I returned to the clinic two days later for an injection of mifepristone, and sent home with misoprostol to take 36 hours later. I was also given Percocet for the pain, two of which I took, the other 10 Seth sold to offset the cost of my procedure, which we had to pay for out of pocket.

Thankfully, I was able to go to my third appointment in Dayton at the Kettering clinic, to which I told protesters “I already fucking did it, I ended a ‘life’ so I could start mine”

How could I ever be ashamed of what I did? I could have never raised a child to thrive in that environment. I barely made it out of that alive myself. You can call me every name in the book. I made the best decision for myself in that situation. If I hadn’t- I would have had to sacrifice everything: my horse, my professional career, my happiness. And where I was in my life at that time wasn’t worth where I’m at now.

I look forward to having a family when I’m ready. On my terms, with a man that loves me. In an appropriate environment where we can all thrive. And to me, that’s what matters most.

[sassassanddaisies]

Mental health and seeing through other people’s bullshit.

So sorry I skipped last week’s post. With Tom having EDO, my biological dad pulling some bullshit on me, getting Bandit in shape for show season/his sale, things just got overwhelmingly busy. And at some point, I had to take a step back and make sacrifices somewhere. Which leads me to this week’s topic: mental health. This may get a little deep, and I’m not sorry.

You’re hearing about it more and more these days. Which is a good thing! But I see it all over social media “oh I have depression,” or “I have anxiety.” I sit and think to myself “Is this a self diagnosis or coming from a healthcare professional? A primary care provider who’s going to push pills at you and send you on your way or a psychologist who’s specialized in this field? As someone who has been diagnosed with and suffers from depression, anxiety and ADHD, MENTAL ILLNESS IS NOT A FUCKING FASHION TREND.

A Facebook friend of mine from my hometown (Yes, YOU, MISTY) posted she had “acute stress disorder” from merely witnessing a house fire across the street from her house. She went on to say that it’s a precursor to post traumatic stress disorder, or PTSD. As the girlfriend of a firefighter, and someone who struggles with their mental health daily, I could not hold back from commenting and calling complete bullshit. Tom and the people who are becoming my close friends face fire, tragedy and death quite regularly. A civilian is not that mentally frail from just seeing a fire. Come the fuck on. I pulled horses from a burning barn when I was 17. And guess what? I’m less traumatized from that than from the other entirety of my childhood. Where do we as a society draw the line between being a bunch of pussies and realizing that someone may have a real problem? People need to quit using mental disorders as a way to get attention. Period.

I have struggled with depression since I was a teenager. I was bullied throughout school, my mom was an alcoholic, and I’ve never quite felt completely happy.

Anxiety in my everyday life however, is newer. I’ve always had some when it’s come to horses, but the equine industry is so cut throat, it’s a common thing among equestrians. My anxiety developed while married to my ex husband, who was physically and emotionally abusive. During our relationship, my biological mom died as well, which added fuel to the fire. I wasn’t given the proper tools on how to handle my grief, especially at the young age of 19 and certainly wasn’t capable of handling how to escape an abusive relationship on my own. So with all of this, my mental health took a nose dive.

It wasn’t until my ex husband suggested to my doctor that I be put on anti depressants that I realized how bad my mental health had really gotten. I knew our marriage was failing. So as a last ditch effort, I decided to take the pills. However, three weeks on Prozac and complaints to my doctor about lucid dreams that were completely disregarded, my husband found me in the bathtub one night with my wrists slit. I have no recollection of doing so. And before this had never had any suicidal intentions. But after that? No more anti depressants.

My life hasn’t been easy. I’ve experienced more loss and heartbreak in the past five years than I want to experience ever again. But what I’ve learned is you’re allowed to be sad. But you can’t let it consume you. You can be anxious. Change is hard. Sometimes you fuck up. Things are out of your control. Anxiety is natural. You’re allowed to feel feelings. But what you’re not allowed to do is give yourself a fake diagnosis for attention. You never know who around you is really suffering from that exact thing. But when it comes to your mental health, look out for yourself, talk to your doctor, and be open and honest about it. At the end of the day, its nothing to be ashamed about.

I still have days where I struggle. But I also know that my friends and Tom are there for me and I’m not afraid to speak up about it. I know when my depression is getting bad. I don’t eat, I don’t want to ride, I don’t want to do much of anything. My anxiety interferes with every aspect of my life now too. But it’s okay to not be okay. What’s not okay is to pretend you’re not okay. And the strongest people are probably the ones that are really hurting.

[sassassanddaisies]

The #FireWifeLife... Or Just Life.

Disclaimer: Not a wife, yet 😉

Let me start by saying that that hashtag carries a certain stigma with it that makes me puke in my mouth a bit. It makes me think of those wives who mainly pretend to have it all together and glorify their spouses job. And at least around here, the trend is the more ya talk about it, the worse you probably are at it. Just the way that cookie crumbles. I make no effort to hide this shit show. If I did, well, I wouldn’t have anything to write about. So, as a collective whole can we agree that this life is anything but glorious and we’re probably all just looking at the clock and doing the mental math and counting down the hours until we’re reunited again? Because that. Is. Me. Let me tell ya, 24 hours has never felt longer and don’t get me started on 36. Some days we’re just ships passing in the night and miss each other by a few minutes. At the same time, I also really appreciate having the bed to just me and my dogs. It’s called balance, right?

Our story: Tom and I met while I was working at the local harness racing track for a trainer. He was on standby on the medic, and I had an little run in with a 1200lb animal, and the rest is history.

At that point in my life, (which was only three months ago,) I really wasnt looking for anything at all. I was happy being single. I didn’t have time for men. Dating was rough for me. Every guy that took me out was just missing SOMETHING. Wasn’t talkative enough, too talkative, too touchy feely, or, my favorite, would just flat out undermine me. I was working three jobs and was just tired of wasting my time and had honestly taken a solid break from men. It was the holidays and I was ready to spend time with my family and enjoy a much needed break from pharma and spend time with my four legged boys.

And so my first day of winter break, I let Tom take me for a drink. A drink turned into dinner (because I am never going to say no to a beer and nachos.) Dinner turned to coming home at 1am. A car ride filled with whiskey induced singing to Bowling for Soup and Frank Turner is really what won me over. Because let me tell ya, I was skeptical that he was too good to be true because the connection we have has been there since the very beginning. He claims he fell in love with me that night. What an idiot.

Whenever his job gets brought up in conversation, people are constantly taken aback and the average response is “omg that’s so dangerous, how don’t you stress or worry all the time?!”

I don’t let the stress of his job burden me. I don’t make a conscious effort to really worry about him or his safety. He’s a trained professional. Sure, the “what if’s” creep into my head sometimes, but I’m sure he feels the same way while I’m on top of a 1200lb animal and I’m alone. But we’ve both been doing it for so long it’s second nature.

Then the second go to is “you poor thing, you must spend so much time alone!” Let me tell y’all, 90% of the time, I LOVE my alone time. I work alone and I also live alone besides my dogs. I love my ability to be independent. I live a life completely separate from his. I work my own jobs, on my own time. Sure we absolutely enjoy our time together and get as much as that together as we can, but if I didn’t have my own life outside of our relationship, I’d just be waiting for him to come home. Independence is key to making this relationship work. As I mentioned last week, I don’t have much time for anything other than work right now anyway. The balance in my life is so delicate, when it gets off by even a bit, it tends to throw the rest of my week off.

The “secret” to our relationship success from the beginning has always been open communication. About anything. Any time. 3am even. We talk about our work days. Our stresses and anxieties. Tom has a a lot of his plate- full time at the department, part time as a private paramedic, graduate school, air national guard, being a dad, and of course me. We’re never shy about how we feel. And that’s why this works. And we’re always there when the other needs us to be.

That’s not what’s going to make me a good FireWife. That’s what’s going to make me a good wife in general. I am so excited to see where he takes me. And I know that even short term, I may not get to be a legit FireWife. Tom finishes his MBA program in July and from there, who knows where we’ll end up. But for now, I’m endlessly proud and he deserves all the recognition and then some.

[sassassanddaisies]

Drugs, horses and a life, OH MY!

A question I seem to get from everyone is how I balance two (very successful) careers, a healthy relationship, a social life, and everything else “adulting” entails. Can I let you in on a little secret? I DON’T. 

My biggest problem is there just isn’t enough hours in the day and I tend to over dedicate myself to my pharma job more than I should. Because while that is what is currently paying my bills, at the end of the day, that’s not what’s feeding the fire in my heart. Don’t get me wrong, I absolutely love my job. I love connecting with healthcare professionals and helping each one solve the unique challenges their offices face. 

But over the summer while I was job searching from being laid off, I was fortunate enough to have a handful of clients. I could focus on riding and training full time and make a somewhat decent living from that. Not to mention, being able to work on my own schedule was nice! But not owning my own facility or being able to manage it the way I wanted to was also a challenge in itself. It was the realization I wanted to do this with my life! I had always known, but it was the affirmation I so desperately needed.

But alas, “summer break” came to an end in September when someone found my resume, interviewed, and extended me an offer to join their sales team. The rest is history. I became the top rep in the company my first month in the field, and I haven’t shown any signs of slowing down. I just don’t want to be “average” at either riding nor sales. I want to be the best I can be in both fields, and the only thing stopping me is time. 

At the moment, and unfortunately, I'm down to one horse after losing my heart horse in a freak pasture accident last week. This gives me time to focus on getting my sales horse, Bandit, out the door and turn a nice profit on him. I’m also going to go evaluate a horse I started a couple years ago tomorrow and see where she’s at. She may come back for another 30 day refresher! 

So for now: pharma and horses have my attention. Fortunately, my boyfriend’s job (the topic for next week) pulls him away from me for a day or two at a time, and really allows me to focus on the two tasks at hand. But when we both get a chance at a day off together? All bets are off, we're probably together doing absolutely nothing.