scratching my feelings. new year same me edition.

turns out that not working hasn’t cured my anxiety. I didn’t think it would, I don’t have a paycheck right now and that’s stressful, I have a massive trade show to go to next week and THAT is stressful, I don’t have business cards, my company isn’t actually incorporated yet, I didn’t bring businessy clothes with me on this trip…

I napped for a solid 4 hours today but since I woke up my watch has told me to start concentrating on my breathing at least three times.

coloring for stress relief seems like a good idea until I sit down with my tin of sharpened pencils and my very elaborate coloring book patterns. then I remember that a giant part of my anxiety is DEFINITELY related to decision fatigue and having to choose colors, and a pattern, and making sure I don’t screw up the pattern or make sure that the colors that will eventually meet up aren’t going to clash or be too close or, or, or… does anyone want any coloring books? because I have a few I will NEVER use.

enter Facebook targeted advertising.

screen shot 2019-01-12 at 8.56.22 pm

magic fricking scratch-off art. it’s like color by number but by subtraction. and it is calming and therapeutic as heck. my oldest daughter and I took a road trip last week and I brought two of these sets and every night we worked on one for about an hour before bed and it was everything you want in a mindless activity without any potential frustration. losing puzzle pieces? no.  decided on burnt sienna only to realize that your mandala looks like a mustard spill? no. lost your scissors? realized you don’t know how to cross stitch? keep stabbing yourself with a needle? threw away the cord for your sewing machine? artistic collage ransom notes frowned upon? never learned how to make friendship bracelets?

get one of these sets. you’ll be so glad you did.   (that’s a link to get it on Amazon, it comes with the scratchy tool and a brush)

caveat – it does make a little bit of a black speckly mess but a clorox wipe and a paper towel and you’re good to go.

 

 

 

unrelated to the scratching art – but certainly related to the anxiety… I wrote SO MANY THINGS during my last week or two of work- (they threw me a taco party! I wore jeans every day!) but never posted any of them – it was a tough couple of weeks for me. I loved that job and those coworkers and that company. I had been prepared to make that job the rest of my working life and very quickly with little time to adjust, that entire plan was changed. so now I’m scratching my way to Plan B. literally, figuratively, emotionally… like the hot mess I am.  but for now I’m hiding out regrouping in my villains lair. -which is actually a great little townhouse in central Florida with my own tiny pool- I’ll tell you more about it next time.

in the meantime I’m going to question the life choices which led me to decide against buying a couple of bottles of wine while I was at Target earlier today.  their target has a straight up liquor store in it! never mind wine – I could be having a vodka tonic right now.

 

xoxo

holidaying my feelings – why is there so much crap in my house? edition

treeatnight
we decorated EARLY this year and I’m not sorry.

It’s weird to get to a place where you don’t want anything. but I don’t. I don’t want a single thing. I have EVERYTHING I need. I have MORE THAN I NEED.  I am getting rid of things at a steady pace.

part of the particular nature/nurture strain of anxiety/depression that I inherited from my father leads to purging. I try to be very conscious of what I get rid of because I want to make sure I have art my kids made in kindergarten, or baby photos, or my husband’s letterman jacket. dad was a reckless purger so there are things from my childhood that I would have preferred to not end up in a dumpster while I was in college… like anything from my childhood. Ten points to the X-ers in charge of our entertainment, because I can at least have NEW things of whatever things I don’t have from my childhood. Jem? Good Luck Bear? A Vintage style My Little Pony? A fricking Zoom birthday record?! They exist again and I could have all of those things.

but I don’t want them.

hygge
tea, cake, making lists. some of my favorites.

so right, while the holidays approach, and Winter is Coming, and I really want to start getting my house renovated, and things are happening in my professional life that I can’t/haven’t told everyone about yet… I’m fucking stressed out. I’m also really fucking depressed. I said that out loud to myself in the car the other day. “I am really fucking depressed” and the moment of acknowledging my feelings for what they are… it helped. I mean, Wellbutrin helps more, but recognition is important.

and I need to get a dumpster which currently has me REALLY worried because I do want to get rid of every.fucking.thing. in my house.

I speak only for myself and my own experiences with depression but if I had to make a list of things I “want” or “need” for Christmas right now they would include: socks, a throw blanket or four, a magically clean kitchen and front hallway unaccompanied by the sounds of angry cleaning, new toss pillows for the couch, cake, dark curtains in my bedroom for naps, naps, for my house to smell like a Christmas tree, candles in every room, having the dining room table completely clear… chocolate. See’s or Phillip’s Candy House especially. The soft ones with fruity creme centers. Or a trip to Disney. But mostly I need Hygge.

Hygge-2

I want Hygge for Christmas.

xoxo

 

I only really like my cervix if I don’t have to think about it.

obgyn

Due to an atrocious OBGYN several years ago who equated every single problem I had with my weight I had a Soviet Era copper IUD that was old enough to vote. It wasn’t really Soviet Era, it WAS pre-9/11, and to be fair it voted Democrat but it still had to go.

The removal process 9 days ago was hellish. Hellish. I yelled at one point, out loud, and then started crying. I mean… she stuck a needle in my cervix. Without any warning. I don’t recommend it. It made half my face go numb and my nose bleed. That’s some fucked up reverse acupuncture FOR SURE. Leading up to this she had given me a prescription for something that was supposed to soften my cervix to make the thing easier, and in my defense the pharmacist didn’t mention that it was supposed to be inserted – the instructions were “take one tablet night before procedure”. Also it said “take with food”. These made me think that I should eat something and then swallow the pill. I was wrong.

I have a very high tolerance for pain. Like really very high. 36 hours of back labor followed by delivery without any drugs. Kidney stones without any drugs. An injection in the cervix without any drugs. rooting around in my uterus looking for a little piece of copper without any drugs.

The insertion process wasn’t much better, because evidently there are corners and switchbacks involved because it turns out that my uterus is literally upside-down and backwards and on its side, and in an entirely different building, the pathway looks like Lombard St, which isn’t something that anyone felt the need to tell me, the owner of the uterus. I said: “oh, so is that why I only had back labor?” and she said “yes, I can’t believe no one warned you”. My youngest is 18 so it’s been too long to be feeling THIS DAMN SALTY, but no, no one told me. Why would anyone tell the terrified 23 year old what is causing her pain?

Where am I going with this? I don’t remember. But today I’ve got a shiny new IUD, loaded with hormones that might even help with my The Shining Elevator style periods I’ve been having for the last 15 years. Which, coincidently had NOTHING to do with my fucking weight.

disneyholiday

and in case you’re wondering – once I get home and put on the most comfortable damn joggers in the WORLD (which yeah, I do think are worth the stupid high price tag.) I’m going to shop alllllll these feelings away in the form of Disney Holiday Decorations. (and vanilla milkshakes with butterscotch schnapps. #butterscotchberns )