Daily Archives: September 21, 2015

Avoiding Sadness

“Avoiding fear, sadness or anger is not the same thing as being happy” – Zelda Williams I recently read an...

Avoiding Sadness

“Avoiding fear, sadness or anger is not the same thing as being happy” – Zelda Williams I recently read an...

Color Kissed

Fuckin' Juice

I love finding great supplies for art-making.  I’ve stopped being a complete raven, bringing home all the shiny bits and bobs that make me squeal (or caw, if we keep the metaphor).  Now I look specifically for flatter objects and materials—all kinds of paper, fabric, seed beads, flat charms and too-dads.

What I love most are fibers and ribbons.  I order a lot of specialty ribbon and fibers from Flights of Fancy, but my all-time favorite source for ribbon and silk cord is the Etsy shop, Color Kissed Silk.  Tammy always helps me find exactly what I need—or makes makes special arrangements for me.  Because all the ribbons are hand-dyed, nothing in stock stays in stock.  It just morphs into an even more delicious combination of colors.

Solstice 2014A couple of weeks ago, the design for my 2015 holiday card came to me (I love when that happens).  I started ordering my supplies—card stock from Stampin’Up (because their paper is rich, heavier weight, and worth the money), metallic paint spray from Lindy’s (for my required level of grunge and mess), and ribbons from Tammy.

It’s a simple card (not like last year’s major production), but I expect to make about 100 cards this year.  The list of people I love and admire keeps growing, which is only as it should be.  Making my Solstice cards is Christmas for me—sending out all that attention, beauty and love into the world.  Ahh.

Anyway, I told Tammy I needed yardage this year.  And like always, she had everything I needed.  I also planned on making a lot of cards between now and ArtFest in March (I hope to be part of the Artists’ Fair and show off a little), so I ordered a gob of new ribbon and silk cord.  When my order arrived on Saturday, I went into beauty overload.  For two days, I played with my ribbons, laying them out, sorting, figuring out a new way to store them so I can see and feel them all as I pull a card together.  Aren’t they gorgeous?

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Old FavoritesAs I sorted my old stuff in with the new, I found snippets of silk cord that Tammy doesn’t make anymore.  I kept them to remind me to ask if she had any of these old colors stuffed in a drawer somewhere, but always forgot.  So I contacted her yesterday to find out.  Here’s what she said:

I have a bag of scraps. I don’t know what is what … I don’t have any of the originals to compare so I can’t identify any of them… I will send it to you and you may find some use for this mess…  keep in mind this is just end pieces thrown in a bucket so they are not at all organized, labeled , or pressed…..I am not even sure what length they are… Put it to use if you can… they will go out tomorrow.

Holy Jackpot, Batman!  I asked what she wanted in the way of payment.

Nothing, they are just scraps… that I should have thrown away long ago, not sure why I ever kept them…

Oh, I know why.  It’s called Synchronisity.  And Abundance.  And the fact that the Universe abhors a void, so while its taken away my compulsive eating, my Beauty Glutton still gets to binge on a Bucket of Ribbons!

Somedays, it’s really good to be on An Adventure.


Internship over and I’m okay!

I worked so hard that my boss was impressed with me and even gave me a gift basket at the end with really good goodies. 

I rocked it. And I took my medicine the whole time.

I could see that the city was getting to me. Mentally and psychically. I was getting irritated and just down the right not in a good mood the last few days. I don’t like feeling like that so I know it’s my environment that helps as well.

I will be going back in February and I’m really excited to be asked to. I’ll just make sure to know how to take care of myself and to make sure to take my medicine the whole time.

I’m back!!!


Why I #Homeschool

I DON'T BAKE text above pile of flour and butter

I am not a cookie and bread-baking homeschooler, nor am I homeschooling for religious reasons.

In fact, in spite of the fact that I have twice attended a multi-denominational Christian seminary, I remain a skeptical and questioning believer.

No, I’m just a mom, trying her best, to find the right fit for her kid.

Then, again, who knows…maybe when the weather cools down, I’ll bake some bread or cookies. I’ve been know to bake cookies. Bread would be a new one for me.


Filed under: Motherhood, Parenting, Vocation Tagged: home school, homeschool

it’s all gone spitoon & snotrag round here

Nothing like bipolar to pick you up and slam you down like a shot of tequila. The grimace is the same too. I want to lose today, tomorrow, next week. Fuckit. And here I go again on that waiting game lookout post, to see whether this is hyposadgitation or just one of those afternoons. I…

Social INSECURITY Administration

So I did fuck all Saturday, cryptified early, then around 8 p.m. it occurred to me I hadn’t checked mail. So I shuffle out to the mail box and inside I find this skinny little envelope from Social Security. Now if you read this spewage even regularly then you’d know I got a notice back in February that my disability case was under review. For almost seven months I’ve felt like I was walking a tightrope without a net below. I’ve been a nervous wreck.

And kindly as the American government is…The page long letter states: “We sent you notice that your disability case was under review. We do not need to review your case at this time so we will not be contacting your doctor. We will notify you when we do need to review your case.”

ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME? Seven months of hellish anxiety over this particular matter and oh, oops, we fibbed???? It took seven months to figure this out and notify me? Sadists! That is possibly the cruelest thing you could do to someone with severe anxiety disorder.

Good news, though, right? My income isn’t as up in the air now, I can breathe, you think? Ha ha ha, scumbag brain has other ideas. Because I read and have seen horror stories about how the government agencies scour social media and the internet as a whole, looking for “fraudulent” disability claims. One girl dared to post a picture of herself in a bikini on the beach and she was cut off and charged with fraud because ya know, laying on a lounge chair in the sun absolutely means your back injury is cured.

Having read such stories…I am leery to even let out a deep breath. They use algorithms and linguistics programs (usually to track down bomber types with manifestos) to locate even people using a pseudonym. I sound stark raving mad, but if you watch enough crime shows…you know paranoia is warranted. And scumbag brain is convinced this is a trap, they are lulling me into a false sense of security, hoping I make some sort of miraculous recovery so they can say HA!You’re a fraud!

Won’t they be shocked to learn…Having that one stressor removed did not cure my depression and anxiety. I thought once I knew yay or nay on that matter I’d feel better. But I really don’t. Because that’s not how depression and anxiety work. God, I want my brain to get its shit together and work right. This social security thing is more stressful than homelessness, I swear, sometimes. Thus…social. insecurity. administration.

Since I was a lump Saturday, I kicked into gear yesterday. Did dishes, swept the kitchen, cleaned cat boxes, and washed/dried/folded ALL laundry, put it away. My kid was a little stunned to see me doing housework. Mostly because I try to do shit when she’s at school to avoid “What are you doing? Why? How come? What are you doing now?” It’s like living under a microscope and her father did the same thing and I can’t fucking stand it. Leave me alone!

R finally called me, all hyper cos someone said something bad about Kenny. Yes, of course, why wouldn’t I want to share in the glee of putting someone else down, even if maybe they brought it on themselves. Lots of people view me as useless, so pardon me if I don’t celebrate the same being said of someone else. This schadenfreude so common to most has always been what has separated me from the masses, especially in high school. I don’t want to gossip, judge, or get pleasure out of someone else being insulted or having shit luck. Of course, there are *some* people (family, mostly) who piss me off to the extent I wish they’d get a reality check, but even then…I truly felt sorry for my useless brother in law when all the cats died in the fire and he said it was his fault. Least he likes animals. I just…I’ve always been the victim of rash judgments based on how I dress, look, what I like, who my family is, whether I meet others’ expectations…I really do not enjoy doing it to others even if I do have standard issue human hypocrisy blindness.

He eventually kept his word from last week and brought me Mangoritas. It’s like he works for the government, ask on Monday, get it on Sunday, send out notice in February, reply in September. Blah…I thought I was going to have today to myself to recover from all weekend with the Uzi child, who was not bad, but simply did not shut up, at all, for two days. He called last night freaking out that his credit card account had been flagged for over a thousand dollars of unusual activity and asked if I’d come in in the morning and help him figure it out. Because his wife was watching her show and he didn’t want to bother her. But hey, bother me, it’s cool, I’m only busy raising a kid alone, trying to make ends meet, and juggling a multiple mental health diagnosis. Oh well. It came with stipulations on my part. Smokes. Food for my cats. Because ya know, I asked my dad if he’d help out by getting some but nooo, he already donated to my sister’s cause. Because she has a full paycheck and lives with two others with full incomes and her kid is mostly grown and not living there and yet she needs help more than I do. FFS.

I’ve not told anyone how dire things have gotten for me. Like I’m two months behind on my power bill and waiting for my disconnect notice. Because the state is broke and didn’t have the summer cooling program so I had no assistance. I had a payment agreement from winter and paid late by two days, so the agreement was nullified and the full winter balance came due on top of the current balance. And I have no idea what I am gonna do. My kid has no pants for fall and winter and it’s gotten cold fast. My pants all have holes in them to the point I am bordering on indecent public exposure. I need to have the place sprayed for bugs cos when the neighbors moved, they all came to live with me, the stuff that worked miracles doesn’t work now, and the landlord won’t pay.

But yeah, go help the one living in a household with a five thousand dollar a month income while leaving the one with a small kid and less than eight hundred a month in the lurch. Makes absolute sense.

I must sound like an ungrateful brat. I am an adult, after all. But I am an adult who has been handed quite a bit over a very short period of time so the fact I am not in a padded room sobbing is a plus.

Grrr. I am sick of living this way. I just want two years of stability before I embark on the employment thing. There aren’t many jobs here to begin with, and most of them I’ve had and flaked out on anyway. I can’t afford desperation driving me to rack up more bad references, even if someone would hire me. The place that offered “employment counseling” did fuck all to help me other than give me a ride around town to fill out applications. More than that, those with disabilities need jobs geared toward their skills without setting off their conditions, they need references, a chance.

Put on my pajamas, I am dreaming.

I should just swallow all pride, shed all dignity, and do some freaky internet fetish porn for a living. Except I have ugly feet, so that’s out. My legs are all scabbed and scarred from flea bites, no leg porn. I am too heavy so no normal porn. Um…I suppose I could do clown porn and call it occupational therapy, facing my fears cos I loathe clowns.

Suffice it to say…That letter let me off the hook for one stressor, but I have plenty more to keep my pretzel gut churning for a long time to come. I should take the small victory.

Instead I am just gearing up for the next catastrophe. Welcome to my world.

 


Picture From The Aforementioned Hike

IMG_0756

Yesterday I said I was about to go on a life-affirming hike.  This is the kind of beauty that is practically right outside my door – this is about a mile from my house.  Can you say GRATITUDE????  Boulder is full of beauty and Open Space for people to enjoy it.  I am so grateful for that!!!  Have a great Monday, people!!!!!


Filed under: I love the sky, I love the sun, Psychology Shmyshmology Tagged: Bipolar, hiking, Hope, Mental Illness, Psychology, Reader

[Poetry]: Submission by Jolene Hilditch

she is wild and untamed
she is beautiful and seductive
she has eyes that see your soul
and a mind that will corrupt you
she sees your weakness
and feeds upon your fear
she is the pain in your unhealed wounds
and the sorrow in your sadness
you are a puppet
and she holds the stings
she is the blade against your skin
and the bottle in hand
her face is not seen
but here name is known
depression
this horrible master of ours


Waking Up

We go thru life, we live we laugh we love… We get hurt and betrayed and one day we don’t care anymore Just so we can’t be hurt anymore And […]