you know, just doin' stuff.

So, yeah. Here's what I've been up to lately. Just hangin' around in couture. No biggie. The above photo? Yeah, those shoes are straight from Balenciaga's studio in Paris. And the heels are about, oh, 5 1/2 inches. I needed spotters just to get me standing up in them. And once I did stand up, I was an easy 6'4". Thank goodness for that railing, or I would have toppled on over face first.

This purple party dress below is probably my favorite. What gal doesn't want to get all girlied up for a holiday party? Or any party? Or to go to the grocery store?

Sometimes I worry that I'm not wearing enough Chanel:

I had a Chanel clutch, a Chanel cuff bracelet, and Chanel earrings. Delicious! (Ladies, the clutch in the above photo costs about as much as one class at a private univeristy. Can we say gorgeous-but-ridiculous? Oh, Saks Fifth Avenue, you are fun!)

This hot pink number was custom-made by a woman here in Pittsburgh. Who says hot pink taffeta is just for bridesmaids?

And sometimes I worry that my love for cats isn't quite clear enough:

(Yes, that's me in each of these photos. And yes, that's total sarcasm throughout. Sometimes I really love modeling, but most of the time I think it's pretty silly!)

with love from Pittsburgh,

Laura

close call.

It's no secret that I had a couple of rough months there. It was pretty touch-and-go for a while. And I'm not ashamed to admit that, quite frankly, I wanted to die. I really did.

I wanted to die.

I wanted to not be here. To not be conscious. To not feel. To not be in this world that seemed to be betraying me at every.single.turn.

Maybe that's hard for some of you to comprehend. How can anything be that bad? you may ask. Nobody's life is perfect. Everyone goes through rough times. You mean you couldn't just buck up and get over it?

No. I couldn't.

I suffer from depression. Not chronic, not debilitating, but depression nonetheless. Sometimes it hits me a little hard--when serious change occurs, when events prove bigger than I'd anticipated, when the human foibles we're all so prone to come front and center. Other times, it's just this tiny little nagging in the back of my day. I don't really feel like going out, it says. Or, I'm not as interested in that as I used to be, but sometimes I wish I was. And even, Gee, I think I could just stay in bed today and not feel like I was missing out on anything.

But after I came out of that depression, that darkness that was inkier and thicker than I think I'd ever experienced--yes, this time it was debilitating--I thanked God/my lucky stars/my friends who stood by me/etc. that I didn't die. Because I would have missed out on things.

Like reading. In bed, snuggled under the covers, my body pillow placed on top of me, the length of it only a fraction of my nearly 6' frame, but acting as a propping mechanism for the book nonetheless. Reading and disappearing into worlds that took me away from my own, or coming into my own universe so closely that I was convinced the author had been spying on me, turns of phrase that were written just for me. In ways that meant something only I could understand. Do you know how comforting that is?

Or the taste of tea. Oh, how I love-adore-take delight in tea! Liquid peace, its warmth slowly making its way down to my core, healing and soothing all the hurts. Have you ever gone a day without tea? I cannot. Right now, an empty mug sits beside me, having served its purpose, but not the first of the day. Somehow, holding a mug of hot tea close to my face calms me, my hands, tired from work and weak from constant grasping at this world, wrapped around its curved body, the steam rising towards my chin, my lips, my nose. I feel safe with that mug of tea near my body. I feel protected.

And clean laundry. I love doing laundry. I look forward to it. It's like getting a whole new wardrobe, only it's familiar and comforting because it's mine. Those fabrics have graced my skin so many days and hours of my life, have been with me in moments of joy, moments of sorrow, moments of hope. Clothing takes on a life of its own, sometimes mirroring my shape as it hangs from the back of a chair or on the edge of the bed. And when it's clean, it's as if it gets another chance--a fresh start--to be with me all over again, to be with me in those days and hours of my life.

If I had died, I would have missed out on those simple but miraculous and glorious pleasures.

It was a close call, but I am still here. Sipping tea, with a book in my hand, while I wear my freshly laundered sweats.

There is great, great joy in this. I do not deny it.

with love from Pittsburgh,
Laura

dishing it out.

Oh, my sweet, loyal readers. If you had any idea what my world has been like for the past 3 months, you would be so, so proud of me that I'm here, functioning, writing.

I want so very much to dish it all out here, in this one single post, but I feel as though I must take it in small clumps, somewhat ambiguously, of course, so as to protect not only myself but those involved as well.

Let's just put it this way: Life has a funny way of kicking you in the gut, the face, and the arse, all at once. And then, without warning, it turns around and says, "Just kidding!"

(my beautiful church--St. Paul's Cathedral, Pittsburgh, PA)

Do you know that I went to church every single day except Saturdays, for six weeks, and knelt before the Blessed Sacrament (that's the Eucharist, for you non-Catholic lovelies out there), on cold marble, my knees aching and burning from the discomfort, and prayed that my heart would heal from the pain and trauma it had recently endured?

Yup. I did.

I was all, "Hey, Jesus? Um, things are, like, really bad right now. Seriously. 'Member that time you brought the most wonderful man into my life and things were, like, really good and pure and full of love for four whole years? And then, out of nowhere, that man did and said some stuff that was really hurtful--all in the name of you--and, um, left? And it was all completely out of character for him? And it didn't make any sense because there weren't any signs leading up to it? And you let him leave? What the hecks was that all about? Because I'm, like, reallly, really hurtin' here. Like, sorta wantin' to die. Yeah. I know. That's pretty serious stuff to say to you, isn't it? Well, it's the truth. And I'm all about sayin' the truth to you, because, well, you're you and all. So, um, maybe you could help me out please? Because I really don't know what else to do or who else to turn to.

"Do you want me to let him go? Is that what this is all about? If it is, then I'm askin' you to help me let him go. Is he not the person you've picked out for me? Because I sure thought he was. Like, for reals. I mean, you're all mysterious and stuff in your ways, so I'm not sayin' I understand what you're doin' and all, but still. What is all of this about? I'm havin' a hard time believin' that something you'd want would cause this much pain. Because really. I am not okay. I really am not okay. And I don't know how I'll ever be okay after this."

And that was what I prayed every day for six weeks. On the cold, hard, white marble of St. Paul's Cathedral. Right in front of the Blessed Sacrament. Jesus, right there in front of me, listening and weeping in unison with my pain.

Do you know that on one occasion, I was sobbing so loudly that it echoed through the entire cathedral? And the woman praying in the first pew stepped out into the aisle, walked up to railing where I was slumped, and knelt down beside me. She said, "What can I do for you, sweetie?" Between my heaving sobs, I replied, "Nothing." And she put her hand on my shoulder and said, "Well, you're in the right place." And then she went back to her pew, where I'm almost certain she prayed for me.

I was in the right place. As much as I hurt, as much as I felt betrayed and abandoned and confused, I knew I was in the right place. And I kept going to that place. Every day except Saturdays. And I knelt on the cold, white marble. And I prayed. Sincerely, deeply.

And then he came back. The love of my life came back.

There's a lot to work out, a lot to figure out. But love is a decision, not just a feeling. And sometimes, even when it hurts, you decide to see what will happen. You decide to love.

yeah, i'm an actress.

Here's the commercial I shot back in August for First Niagra Bank. I'm the girl in the speedboat. Yup. That's me.

one foot in the water.

I've always been afraid of drowning. I'm scared to death of large bodies of water. Did you know that? I am. Having the water pull me under, sucking me down towards a dark and airless tomb. Or something coming up from the bottom, grabbing me, devouring me.

I can swim, yes. Quite well. But sometimes there are forces that you can't evade, no matter how well you can swim. Treading water still requires energy, and sometimes that energy gives out. Gets used up. Goes away.

But sometimes that energy comes back. And you are able to tread again. Or you decide you'll kick whatever it is that comes up from below. You'll kick and kick and kick and even scream until you are the victorious one.

I'm thinking about putting one foot in the water. It's scary as hell, and I don't know what's going to happen, but I feel as though I should dab my toe into the waters and hope that they don't pull me under. I'm hoping instead that the waters will give me life.

I think I'm going to start writing here again.

now what?

What do you do when you lose the love of your life?

I don't know what to do.

I continue in a haze of grief each day. Disbelief, shock, complete sadness.

Empty. Hurt. A black hole in the center of my chest.

I don't know what to do.

how?

I do not know how I will survive this loss.

Somehow, I am managing to get out of bed, to bathe, to eat, to get to work.

But it is all in a haze of shock and utter grief.

I do not know how I will survive this loss.

But I must. I think of those who lost loved ones on 9/11. I've been thinking about that all day today. What right do I have to feel so paralyzed and grief-stricken, when my loved one is still alive?

But he is gone. And that is still a loss.

And so I do not know how I will survive it.