Daily Archives: September 8, 2013

Can’t Really Tell Where My Head Is At

I have received the divorce papers. It is official; I am divorced after approximately 4 years of marriage. I do …

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Small Things

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It sort of looks like a police vest, doesn’t it? It’s still totally adorable though.

This has been a great week for knitting. I finished the cardigan, ordered a set of knitting needles, and even managed to squeeze in another little project to boot!

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Look maw, an armhole!

Of course, with my luck the way it is, the cardigan came out too small for Lilbit; it would fit snugly, but the neck won’t go over her head. No worries — I’ve enough wool to do it again in a slightly larger size. Which leaves me with the usual conundrum — what do I do with the too small piece?! In this case, the booties gave me the answer. You see, we’re friends with our estate agent. I know, I know, that’s an impossibility because they’re all soulless demons. But ours is a really nice guy with an adorable smaller-than-Lilbit daughter, and another kiddo on the way. Which means hey, when we see him next, there’s a little something for both kiddos! And we do need to see him sooner or later, because we want to take stock of our mortgage situation and determine how soon we’ll be able to afford to move to the village where my in-laws live. Anyhoos, the booties!

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Sort of bean-shaped.

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The folded over shaping.

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One completed, one still in component form.

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I’m quite happy with how these came out, and how I managed to follow the pattern without having a nervous breakdown. This was the first time I encountered the infamous ‘knit one, purl one’ in the same row, and the following row was the opposite. That’s how that adorable ribbing pattern for the top of the bootie is formed.

Now I’m at the conundrum point — what project to do next? The next one in the book is a little colourwork sweater for a small person, but my new needles haven’t arrived yet (so I don’t have all the sizes I’ll need). I’ve got a magazine floating around, and the internet as well, so I can probably find something to do. Or perhaps I’ll pick up my crochet — winter is coming, after all, and it would be nice to finish one of my blankets (though now I’ve got a spare fleece for my lap, which makes this slightly less pertinent). I’ll figure it out, if only so I know what I’ll be working on next time I’m at Stitch ‘n Bitch!

I hope the weekend is treating everyone well.

<3

The post Small Things appeared first on The Scarlet B.

Melon baller

Has your brain ever been so fucked up and caused you to behave so stupidly that you want to scoop it out of your skull with a melon baller?

No? Just me? Whatever.

I HATE MY STUPID BRAIN.

I reached a pinnacle of stress today and actually yelled at those horrid neighbor girls, “Can;t you let us get through the fucking door?”

Not my finest hour, but they didn’t even wait til I got groceries carried in. This after they’d already been here for two hours and I told them not to come back. And my kid threw a screaming mimi at the store, rolling on the floor, screaming, and when I knelt to help pick her up, she screamed, “No, don’t smack me!”

Because that’s totally my fucking style and explains why I have such a perfectly behaved child…Oh, wait, she’s the spawn of satan and my friends want to give her a well deserved spanking because I am so inept as a mother.

MELTDOWN MELTDOWN MELTDOWN.

To my credit, in the store, I picked her up, held her against me, and talked calmly, soothingly, and logically. She still said, “You’re mean, Mommy, I don’t like you!” And this was all because I told her she couldn’t have a toy.

Mostly the other shoppers were amused because they heard me volunteering myself for worst mom award for not buying her a toy, the worst parental sin ever. (Is it wrong to troll your kid? Probably, but my parents trolled me.)

The horrid girls left and never did come back, so God knows what story they told their parents. Oddly, as long as they stay away, I don’t care. But the way things go in this trailer park, I refuse to give them anything but water to drink, and I am totally making them go thirsty and dehydrate.

I want my kid to have friends, and those three kids two trailers down are awesomely behaved kids…But the last two, and these two girls, are just atrocious. They make my life hell. (Yes, what kind of 40 year old woman lets two brats terrorize her?) These girls are in fact making me miss Damiana and her brother. I tell them I can’t afford to give them snacks. They keep asking, demanding, placing orders for exactly what they want, ffs. I have taken to ignoring them. They are told to go away, they keep coming back. They are told to pick up any messes they make, they never do.

As far as I am concerned, expecting them to obey these edicts is no different than telling a smoker you don’t allow smoking in your home and they need to go outside

But these manipulative little satan spawns make me feel like I am so evil, so selfish, so mean, and so unfair…

Mostly, I know my brain is misfiring due to the Cymbalta leaving my system. The brain zaps are fading. Now I am all angry-yell-y or teary weary. It changes every five minutes.

As does my anxiety level and ability to manage it.

I am not in a good place.

Every time I think I might be getting to a good place, scumbag brain pulls some other crafty trick.

I’m not in favor of blaming bad behavior on mental issues, but in this case, I think it’s accurate. Otherwise, this would be my norm, constantly flying off the handle, bursting into tears, hiding in my room with a panic attack.

This is not me.

Now I am living in fear of what the satan girls might have told their parents and their mother is definitely one of those in your face ass kicking women who likes to fight over nothing. She is also friends with the one neighbor lady who doesn’t like me because I used sarcasm against her lying little snowflake. Birds of a feather and all…

Having all this feeding the anxiety is not healthy. Our lives were much simpler and less dramatic before we started mingling with these so called neighbors. I don’t want to be anti social or wimpy, but I do have limitations and they have been worn down to nothing this summer. This has been the longest suckiest summer i Ncan ever remember, from a mental/stress standpoint. And it’s these kidsl. I have ONE kid. I should not have 6 of them every single night.

And I am sick of being told “don’t let them do it” followed by “you can’t pick your kid’s friends, you’re not being fair to her.”

Yeah, line up if you like kids treating you like crap and as a servant in your own home…Didn’t fuckin’ think so.

I can’t be unfair to my kid or those kids. I can’t let them get away with it. They are beyond reason. Maybe it’s my fault for not establishing alpha status like a dog. I just know they only way to deal with them is to not deal with them. I keep waiting to see if this withdrawal winds down if all these crazy feelings will…

I just know I am tired, I am depressed, and I am getting my ass kicked by a couple of badly behaved girls under the age of 8. Which, ya know, is stupid, because if you ask ANY of my exes, they will tell you I am one scary bitch.

So where did I go?

Stupid meds. Stupid brain.

Hand me the melon baller.


And So It Began…

So the down cycle began.

Friday morning as I was getting ready for work I felt hot, angry, frustrated tears trying to spill over. Push down, push down, just move forward…get through the day. Smile. Laugh. Stay focused on the tasks at hand. Shake myself back into the present as my mind moves far away from me. Repeat. I am not present…There is a breakdown between what’s going on in my head and what’s coming out of my mouth. The day is glazed with anxiousness, a frustrating daze and set of new physical circumstances mixed with more pain. Each time I feel as though I cannot possibly carry or cope with one more thing, here comes another thing.

10 hours pass during my workday. Exhaustion.

Home.

I somehow come to find myself rocking back and forth on the crouch in full on ugly cry. Soul cry. Layer upon layer of details, how far reaching it all extends, how this affects that, I’m watching the domino affect happening before my eyes and my inability to do anything more about any of it drives me mad. It all pours out of me over the course of a couple of hours. Along with a few guttural sounds. Thankfully I live alone, aside from my pets. No one should witness an episode like this. Deeper exhaustion, yet I cannot sleep. I refilled my Ambien last week, half helped lull me into slumber.

Today I am flat, deflated, sort of suspended in just existing, choking down complete and total fed up. I also only have one operational hand since the injury, which makes the simplest things extremely difficult and some impossible.

I also missed an old friends funeral today, as I was previously committed to being a Bridesmaid for another friend. A 2 hour drive to the middle of a tiny country town and it turns out her directions to the church were wrong. Her cell reception is shot, this place isn’t on a GPS and after another hour of driving around trying to find it, I turn around and come home. There are just so many things wrong with this whole ordeal.

Helpful How-To

I reviewed Soul Kitchen Natural’s facial oil last week, which I used as a cleanser. If you’re new to using oil as a cleanser (it sounds contradictory, but it works!) it can be a little confusing. We’re all used to foamy or lathering soaps that wind up stripping our faces, so working with the oil can be tricky at first. I’ll share with you how I use oil as a soap and you can try it out for yourself!

I apply a few drops of oil to my fingertips and work it across my face, just as you would a regular facial wash. I concentrate on the areas I have the most trouble, be it clogged pores or breakouts. I massage the oil in a bit in these areas, then I let the oil sit on my skin for a minute. Using a clean washcloth and hot (but not too hot!) water, I press the washcloth over my face as a compress, focusing on where I applied the most oil. Remove the washcloth, rinse it to get it warmed up again, and repeat. I repeat the hot cloth press about 4 times. I then rinse the washcloth again, and gently (!!!) wipe away any remaining oil. Finally, I rinse the washcloth in cold water and apply like a compress again to close the pores.

Cleansing with herbal oil did take a little experimentation and getting used to. If you find you’re pretty shiny by mid-day, simply reduce the amount of oil you use a bit or repeat hot compress a few more times. Once you find the right amount of oil to compresses, you’ll know. My skin looks much healthier, even on “no makeup” days and let’s face it, being mistaken for your 20′s when you’re in your 30′s is pretty awesome!

Do you have any cool or unusual beauty tips/secrets you’d like to share? List them in the comments below!

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Filed under: natural-organic beauty Tagged: natural beauty, organic beauty, spa sunday, wellness