Well, this past weekend I gathered all my things and moved into a new apartment. It's very spacious, and I think the only thing I don't like about it is that the doors are brown instead of white like the walls. But I can live with that.
So far, I've gotten enough unpacked that I can function on a day to day basis, and I'm slowly unpacking the rest when I actually feel like it.
I get home from work or running errands or whatever and I come home and... I have nothing in particular that I need to do. I have nobody here to talk to or hang out with. I don't have my couch yet so all I do is climb into bed and watch Netflix until bedtime.
Not that I'm complaining, but now that I've temporarily given up crafting (I haven't felt like knitting anything at all since November 1), I have nothing to fill my time with. I'm trying to be as social as I can but it's hard during the week because my work schedule is unpredictable.
It's a big adjustment. My neighbors are extremely quiet (which is a good thing) but since I'm the only one here, there's no noise. I was so used to, at the minimum, Buster's toenails clicking on the floor as he walked.
I'm having a rough time sleeping. I keep having to up my dosage of Benadryl at bedtime to get to sleep. Once I get to sleep I stay asleep and it's all good, but I've been tossing and turning until midnight or later every night, and it's really wearing on me.
I'm trying so hard to stay positive and keep all the wonderful things I have in my life in mind, but some days all I can think of is what I'm losing. I know that's normal and healthy and just another part of the grieving process, but on the days where I am able to focus on the positive, I feel so much better. About everything. Work, friends, money, family, my new living arrangement...it all seems so much better on those easier days. But there are going to be a lot of bad days, and I'm just going to have to push through them until they become less and less frequent and things start to get better overall.
Wednesday, December 11, 2013
Tuesday, November 19, 2013
Divorce Update
Scott actually filed the divorce papers yesterday. I felt more or less okay all day, just a little down, but when I was in bed trying to sleep I just got overwhelmingly sad and I started crying again.
I feel so bad for crying in front of Scott because I know this whole thing is hurting him, too, and a large part of that is his feeling guilty about hurting me, and when I hurt more, he hurts more, so I'm trying not to let it out. But last night I couldn't help it.
I have a move-in date set for December 6th (took a day off of work) at my new apartment, and the big move-all-the-things day will be the next day, Saturday December 7th. I have several people who are willing to come over and help me load up my stuff into trucks and haul it off to its new life. I honestly don't have that much stuff that is only mine, and the only big piece of furniture I'm keeping is the king-sized bed. Everything else will fit into people's vans or SUVs.
So I just need to start packing my stuff...I'm thinking if I do a few boxes here and there I won't have as much to pack the week of the move.
I keep making lists of things I'm going to need to buy for my new place and it's about a thousand things, most of which I can wait until later to buy. It's realistically going to take probably a year for me to get everything perfect, just the way I want it.
I thought that as time went on and I checked things off of my to-do list I would start to feel better, but overall this is feeling worse and worse. It hurts. A lot.
I feel so bad for crying in front of Scott because I know this whole thing is hurting him, too, and a large part of that is his feeling guilty about hurting me, and when I hurt more, he hurts more, so I'm trying not to let it out. But last night I couldn't help it.
I have a move-in date set for December 6th (took a day off of work) at my new apartment, and the big move-all-the-things day will be the next day, Saturday December 7th. I have several people who are willing to come over and help me load up my stuff into trucks and haul it off to its new life. I honestly don't have that much stuff that is only mine, and the only big piece of furniture I'm keeping is the king-sized bed. Everything else will fit into people's vans or SUVs.
So I just need to start packing my stuff...I'm thinking if I do a few boxes here and there I won't have as much to pack the week of the move.
I keep making lists of things I'm going to need to buy for my new place and it's about a thousand things, most of which I can wait until later to buy. It's realistically going to take probably a year for me to get everything perfect, just the way I want it.
I thought that as time went on and I checked things off of my to-do list I would start to feel better, but overall this is feeling worse and worse. It hurts. A lot.
Monday, November 11, 2013
The End Of Life As I Know It...And A New Beginning
I've been holding this in for a week and a half now. I need to get it out and let everyone know what's going on with me.
I came home on Friday, November 1st to see Scott sitting alone in our bedroom with packed bags. He simply said "I'm leaving". I had so many questions but I couldn't bring myself to ask them. All I got out of it was "I fell out of love with you." I felt like it had been a beautiful, clear day with the sun shining and the birds singing and suddenly a fucking meteoroid came out of the sky and smashed into my face.
He went to stay at his friend's house. He couldn't stay there because he had a severe asthma attack from the allergies to the cats in the house, so he came back home the very next day, but when he got home he barely made it into the front door before he completely passed out. My friend was here with me, keeping me company and letting me talk about the whole situation with her, and I'm so glad she was there when Scott got home because while I grabbed his nebulizer she called 911 and we got the paramedics there. He was barely breathing. His face was turning purple. If I hadn't recognized what was going on I might have lost him forever. He literally almost died, and I literally saved his life by acting so quickly.
When he got back to breathing normally, we had a talk. He said that it had been cowardly for him to "run away" and that he needed to be here to face the problem head-on. I asked him how long he hadn't loved me. He said "It started to fade away about nine months ago". I think what hurts the most is that he felt, for nine months, like he couldn't talk to me.
My family and friends had been tag-teaming it all evening Friday and all day Saturday so I was never alone and I always had someone to talk with. That was very wonderful of them. That's what got me through that first 24 hours.
I wanted to be angry at him. I really did. But I just couldn't. People fall out of love. It happens every day. It's not like he was out to hurt me. In fact, he didn't tell me for so long because he was afraid of how it would affect me. He's a very considerate man. I know he doesn't love me anymore, but he still cares for me and wants me to be happy and healthy.
I took that following Monday off so I could get in to see a doctor. I got scrips for something to help me sleep and an additional antidepressant to give me a boost over the coming months.
I asked Scott to make a decision. I asked him to decide whether he wanted to go to counseling and try to get the love back, or just end it now. He thought about it for a few days and then decided to end it. I wanted to try to work it out but a) I don't deserve to be in a one-way relationship, or a relationship where the other party doesn't even want to try to love me and b) I can't make him love me, no matter what I do. I also can't make him try counseling. So I decided that once he made the decision for himself I would support him in whatever he chose. If he had wanted to keep trying, I would have fought tooth-and-nail to save this marriage, but if he wanted to end it, I would back off. He chose divorce.
So, we're almost done with the paperwork. We agreed on no lawyers. There are no children and neither of us is angry or vindictive, so we don't need to protect ourselves from each other. We're just submitting the paperwork online so there will be a small fee and then a 90 day waiting period, and then we'll be done. In the meantime, we have plenty of time to separate all bank accounts, investment accounts, debts, insurance, you name it. I have a to-do list a mile long. For right now I'm trying to just do one thing each day. We're working through the list. We'll be completely separated by the time the divorce goes through sometime in February.
So this past week Scott and I cancelled our joint credit card. We sold the Focus for $4000, and we each took half. I took my half and started a new checking account and a new savings account, and took my name off of our joint accounts so they're all in just Scott's name now. Scott had a few things he had to fix on my car, and that's taken care of. I started looking at apartments this past weekend and I found a good place to live that will be available the first week of December. I put in my application today and I'll know sometime tomorrow if I'm approved for the apartment, and then Thursday I get paid so I can go put a security deposit down.
Big things. Deep breaths. I'm going to be okay.
So how am I handling this emotionally? I think the second antidepressant is keeping me afloat, and I'm surrounded by friends and family who can come over at the drop of a hat if I need to talk. The few days it took Scott to make his decision were agonizing, but once he decided and told me what he wanted I was sad, of course, but I also felt at peace about the whole situation.
I know in my mind that I'm going to be okay. I know I'm smart and capable and I make enough money for myself that everything will be fine. I'm just scared that it's going to hit me hard at some point, when it finally clicks in my mind that almost my entire life is changing. And it's changing very quickly. I'm worried that once everything is settled and I have my own place and I get everything checked off my list, I'll suddenly have spare time and I'll dwell on what happened and make my depression worse, but I suppose I'll cross that bridge when I come to it.
So that's what's going on.
And here's the most important thing I have to say:
I am not angry at Scott for any of this. He didn't do anything wrong, and has been nothing but helpful, kind, and generous through this whole thing. He is a good man. Sometimes people grow and change together as a couple, but sometimes they don't. It just didn't happen. It's nobody's fault. So I DO NOT want anyone to be angry with Scott (or me, for that matter) because he doesn't deserve that. We're best friends, even though the romantic love is gone, and we will continue to be friends and be there for each other.
It's sad, but I feel hopeful for the future.
In the meantime, please send happy thoughts and positive mental energy my way. You can even pray for me if that's your thing.
Thanks to everyone who has listened to me talk about this, who has brought me delicious baked goods and booze, and to everyone who has my back. It means more to me that I can even say.
I came home on Friday, November 1st to see Scott sitting alone in our bedroom with packed bags. He simply said "I'm leaving". I had so many questions but I couldn't bring myself to ask them. All I got out of it was "I fell out of love with you." I felt like it had been a beautiful, clear day with the sun shining and the birds singing and suddenly a fucking meteoroid came out of the sky and smashed into my face.
He went to stay at his friend's house. He couldn't stay there because he had a severe asthma attack from the allergies to the cats in the house, so he came back home the very next day, but when he got home he barely made it into the front door before he completely passed out. My friend was here with me, keeping me company and letting me talk about the whole situation with her, and I'm so glad she was there when Scott got home because while I grabbed his nebulizer she called 911 and we got the paramedics there. He was barely breathing. His face was turning purple. If I hadn't recognized what was going on I might have lost him forever. He literally almost died, and I literally saved his life by acting so quickly.
When he got back to breathing normally, we had a talk. He said that it had been cowardly for him to "run away" and that he needed to be here to face the problem head-on. I asked him how long he hadn't loved me. He said "It started to fade away about nine months ago". I think what hurts the most is that he felt, for nine months, like he couldn't talk to me.
My family and friends had been tag-teaming it all evening Friday and all day Saturday so I was never alone and I always had someone to talk with. That was very wonderful of them. That's what got me through that first 24 hours.
I wanted to be angry at him. I really did. But I just couldn't. People fall out of love. It happens every day. It's not like he was out to hurt me. In fact, he didn't tell me for so long because he was afraid of how it would affect me. He's a very considerate man. I know he doesn't love me anymore, but he still cares for me and wants me to be happy and healthy.
I took that following Monday off so I could get in to see a doctor. I got scrips for something to help me sleep and an additional antidepressant to give me a boost over the coming months.
I asked Scott to make a decision. I asked him to decide whether he wanted to go to counseling and try to get the love back, or just end it now. He thought about it for a few days and then decided to end it. I wanted to try to work it out but a) I don't deserve to be in a one-way relationship, or a relationship where the other party doesn't even want to try to love me and b) I can't make him love me, no matter what I do. I also can't make him try counseling. So I decided that once he made the decision for himself I would support him in whatever he chose. If he had wanted to keep trying, I would have fought tooth-and-nail to save this marriage, but if he wanted to end it, I would back off. He chose divorce.
So, we're almost done with the paperwork. We agreed on no lawyers. There are no children and neither of us is angry or vindictive, so we don't need to protect ourselves from each other. We're just submitting the paperwork online so there will be a small fee and then a 90 day waiting period, and then we'll be done. In the meantime, we have plenty of time to separate all bank accounts, investment accounts, debts, insurance, you name it. I have a to-do list a mile long. For right now I'm trying to just do one thing each day. We're working through the list. We'll be completely separated by the time the divorce goes through sometime in February.
So this past week Scott and I cancelled our joint credit card. We sold the Focus for $4000, and we each took half. I took my half and started a new checking account and a new savings account, and took my name off of our joint accounts so they're all in just Scott's name now. Scott had a few things he had to fix on my car, and that's taken care of. I started looking at apartments this past weekend and I found a good place to live that will be available the first week of December. I put in my application today and I'll know sometime tomorrow if I'm approved for the apartment, and then Thursday I get paid so I can go put a security deposit down.
Big things. Deep breaths. I'm going to be okay.
So how am I handling this emotionally? I think the second antidepressant is keeping me afloat, and I'm surrounded by friends and family who can come over at the drop of a hat if I need to talk. The few days it took Scott to make his decision were agonizing, but once he decided and told me what he wanted I was sad, of course, but I also felt at peace about the whole situation.
I know in my mind that I'm going to be okay. I know I'm smart and capable and I make enough money for myself that everything will be fine. I'm just scared that it's going to hit me hard at some point, when it finally clicks in my mind that almost my entire life is changing. And it's changing very quickly. I'm worried that once everything is settled and I have my own place and I get everything checked off my list, I'll suddenly have spare time and I'll dwell on what happened and make my depression worse, but I suppose I'll cross that bridge when I come to it.
So that's what's going on.
And here's the most important thing I have to say:
I am not angry at Scott for any of this. He didn't do anything wrong, and has been nothing but helpful, kind, and generous through this whole thing. He is a good man. Sometimes people grow and change together as a couple, but sometimes they don't. It just didn't happen. It's nobody's fault. So I DO NOT want anyone to be angry with Scott (or me, for that matter) because he doesn't deserve that. We're best friends, even though the romantic love is gone, and we will continue to be friends and be there for each other.
It's sad, but I feel hopeful for the future.
In the meantime, please send happy thoughts and positive mental energy my way. You can even pray for me if that's your thing.
Thanks to everyone who has listened to me talk about this, who has brought me delicious baked goods and booze, and to everyone who has my back. It means more to me that I can even say.
Wednesday, November 6, 2013
Food Prophets...?
Me: I'm going to sit in a really hot bath and eat ice cream for dinner. Because I can. Also because life sucks sometimes.
R.: I'm having beer and circus animals for dinner. Because I can, and because my wrist really hurts and it makes me sad. So totally no judgements here. BTW, what flavor of ice cream?
Me: Cherry Garcia. Plus Magic Shell.
R.: Excellent. If it was vanilla, I'd judge the shit out of you.
Me: No. I'm worth more decadence than vanilla.
R.: Everyone is. Vanilla should be considered a pie topping only, not a flavor.
Me: I like vanilla if it's smothered in caramel. And I do mean SMOTHERED.
R.: So really it's just a device on which to deposit caramel for easier transport to one's facehole. It's not a "flavor".
Me: It's like french fries. They're just a vehicle for fry sauce.
R.: Precisely. And macaroni is just a vehicle for cheese.
Me: It appears you and I are soulmates.
R.: I think we should combine our powers and proselytize our view on food. We'd change the world! Or at least the grocery store. "Vanilla ice cream and pasta are condiments and therefore excluded from caloric content"
Me: Amen!
R.: I knew you'd be moved to see the face of God through these words. Truly we are food prophets.
R.: I'm having beer and circus animals for dinner. Because I can, and because my wrist really hurts and it makes me sad. So totally no judgements here. BTW, what flavor of ice cream?
Me: Cherry Garcia. Plus Magic Shell.
R.: Excellent. If it was vanilla, I'd judge the shit out of you.
Me: No. I'm worth more decadence than vanilla.
R.: Everyone is. Vanilla should be considered a pie topping only, not a flavor.
Me: I like vanilla if it's smothered in caramel. And I do mean SMOTHERED.
R.: So really it's just a device on which to deposit caramel for easier transport to one's facehole. It's not a "flavor".
Me: It's like french fries. They're just a vehicle for fry sauce.
R.: Precisely. And macaroni is just a vehicle for cheese.
Me: It appears you and I are soulmates.
R.: I think we should combine our powers and proselytize our view on food. We'd change the world! Or at least the grocery store. "Vanilla ice cream and pasta are condiments and therefore excluded from caloric content"
Me: Amen!
R.: I knew you'd be moved to see the face of God through these words. Truly we are food prophets.
Monday, September 23, 2013
Christmas Will Be Here Before You Know It
This year I have resolved to start my Christmas knitting earlier than last year. Last year I waited until the end of November, and I had enough time, but I only made simple things for each person. This year I wanted to be slightly more elaborate.
I've already made a colorful scarf for Emilee of my own design. So at least I've started.
I had my trip down to my grandparents' house in Arkansas last week, and for the plane ride and down time while I was down there I brought lace snowflakes to work on. My knitting group is making a hand-crafted tree for a Christmas tree auction for charity, and I volunteered to make snowflake ornaments. They're quick and easy and not bulky, so they were perfect for the plane and to keep in my purse for wherever we ended up on our little vacation.
Also on the list of things to do is a crochet commission. A woman Mim knows saw a picture of a crocheted shawl with skulls on it, and wanted it for Halloween. Unfortunately, she only sent me a picture, not a pattern, and also wanted it converted to a table runner instead of a shawl, so I had to troll the internet to find the pattern (fortunately, it was on Ravelry and relatively easy to find) and then do all the magic maths to re-write the pattern to be for a table runner instead. I have until Halloween to get it finished. I worked on it before my trip and a little bit yesterday, and I'm like 3/4 of the way done with it. She's paying me $100 to do it. I'm not really in it for the money, because if you do the math, that comes out to something like $5-10 an hour, and my time is worth much, much more than that to me. No, I did it as a favor for Mim. The $100 is just a bonus. It's funny, some people say knitting for other people is like sex. If I like you enough, it's free, but if I don't like you, you can't pay me enough. Knitting for friends of friends as a favor to the friend falls under the first category, if I'm in the mood.
After that is all done and I make a few more Christmas ornaments, I need to get going on the rest of the Christmas presents. For Scott, I've already started a pair of double-layer socks for his freezing cold feet (which he puts on my skin while we're lying in bed, sometimes when I'm not expecting it). I already have one of those done, so I just need to make one sock (although it's double-layered, so it's going to actually be two socks, so four socks total).
For Mim, I'm having my indie-dyer dye me up some sock yarn to look like watermelon stripes for a pair of socks that she requested. She asked for pink and green striped socks, so this will be perfect, and even a little more fun.
For Kwiddens, I'm having my dyer friend dye me some heathered gray yarn to make some mittens.
I don't have any idea what to make for Jorgen or Nyah. Isaac might get a scarf, but I made him one last year and he probably doesn't need another one, and I know he's way too picky about hats, so I suppose I'm stuck on what to make for him, as well.
Any suggestions on what to make for people (Cough Kwiddens Cough)?
I've already made a colorful scarf for Emilee of my own design. So at least I've started.
I had my trip down to my grandparents' house in Arkansas last week, and for the plane ride and down time while I was down there I brought lace snowflakes to work on. My knitting group is making a hand-crafted tree for a Christmas tree auction for charity, and I volunteered to make snowflake ornaments. They're quick and easy and not bulky, so they were perfect for the plane and to keep in my purse for wherever we ended up on our little vacation.
Also on the list of things to do is a crochet commission. A woman Mim knows saw a picture of a crocheted shawl with skulls on it, and wanted it for Halloween. Unfortunately, she only sent me a picture, not a pattern, and also wanted it converted to a table runner instead of a shawl, so I had to troll the internet to find the pattern (fortunately, it was on Ravelry and relatively easy to find) and then do all the magic maths to re-write the pattern to be for a table runner instead. I have until Halloween to get it finished. I worked on it before my trip and a little bit yesterday, and I'm like 3/4 of the way done with it. She's paying me $100 to do it. I'm not really in it for the money, because if you do the math, that comes out to something like $5-10 an hour, and my time is worth much, much more than that to me. No, I did it as a favor for Mim. The $100 is just a bonus. It's funny, some people say knitting for other people is like sex. If I like you enough, it's free, but if I don't like you, you can't pay me enough. Knitting for friends of friends as a favor to the friend falls under the first category, if I'm in the mood.
After that is all done and I make a few more Christmas ornaments, I need to get going on the rest of the Christmas presents. For Scott, I've already started a pair of double-layer socks for his freezing cold feet (which he puts on my skin while we're lying in bed, sometimes when I'm not expecting it). I already have one of those done, so I just need to make one sock (although it's double-layered, so it's going to actually be two socks, so four socks total).
For Mim, I'm having my indie-dyer dye me up some sock yarn to look like watermelon stripes for a pair of socks that she requested. She asked for pink and green striped socks, so this will be perfect, and even a little more fun.
For Kwiddens, I'm having my dyer friend dye me some heathered gray yarn to make some mittens.
I don't have any idea what to make for Jorgen or Nyah. Isaac might get a scarf, but I made him one last year and he probably doesn't need another one, and I know he's way too picky about hats, so I suppose I'm stuck on what to make for him, as well.
Any suggestions on what to make for people (Cough Kwiddens Cough)?
Sunday, September 22, 2013
I'm Back From My Trip, But...
I got home yesterday from spending almost a week with my biological grandparents. The trip was okay, albeit a bit too long for my taste. I can only play board games so much before I get to missing home.
Anyway, something that bugged me on the trip, and bugged Kwiddens as well, is how much we ate. Actually, I should be more clear: it was how much more my (thin) grandparents ate compared to how much Kwiddens and I ate.
I felt like at every meal I would eat normal portions of the foods set on the table, and even not eat some of the foods, such as the potato chips we had with our hot dogs. Instead I ate more fruit and vegetables. And then my grandparents would go for seconds, and Kwiddens and I would just sit there and wait for them to finish. And they're the ones that are thin.
I've been thinking for some time about how genetics can play a huge role in how your body treats and processes food, and I've been wondering where in the world it could have come from. Kwiddens and I are overweight, but Em and Jorg aren't, and are able to eat anything they want and not gain weight. All of Mim's family are tall and thin, and I was wondering if it came from my biological dad's side of the family, but now that I've spent some time with them and seen that they 1) are thin and 2) eat so much more than I do, I realize that it isn't from them, either.
So what could it be? There must be something different between Em and Jorg and Kwiddens and me.
The first thing that comes to mind...stress.
Kwiddens and I were treated badly growing up. I won't go into detail, as that's really a story for another time (when I'm ready to talk about it, I suppose), but I'll just point out that Kwiddens had a worse time growing up than I did, and she's a bit more overweight than I am.
I know stress causes bad chemical imbalances in your body, and that can lead to weight gain, particularly around the stomach, and that's the bad fat that will cause problems later in life. Who knows, maybe it's causing problems now. It definitely hasn't done good things for my self-esteem, that's for sure.
But what happens when you go through 20+ years of intense stress and unhappiness? This.
I'm convinced that part of it is the combination of medications I'm on. I was always a bit on the heavy side (although, looking back, I wish I were the weight I was back when I thought I was fat), but I didn't become "overweight" until I started taking birth control before I got married, and I didn't become "obese" until I started taking an antipsychotic. I don't think that's a coincidence.
One of the many, many frustrating things about it is that I've since gotten my life under control, and I'm no longer under the intense stress I was growing up. I mean, yes, there are definitely stressful things in my life, but I'm not unhappy. I'm (mostly) handling it pretty well. There are bad moments, but they are far outweighed by the good moments.
Back to the stress of growing up, though. It's a well-known fact that stress changes your body's chemistry, both in the brain and in the rest of your body. So what does 20 years of unhappiness and emotional abuse and neglect do to a person? It's frightening to think about how badly your environment can affect your body.
Another interesting thing Kwiddens and I read in the Reader's Digest on the plane ride home yesterday was about different strains of bacteria in the intestines of fat and thin people. There are apparently two different types of bacteria, and how much you have of each appears to be directly correlated to how well your body metabolizes food. And wouldn't you know it, stressed-out people tend to have more of the "fat" bacteria than thin people do.
One last thing I'd like to add into this one-person discussion is this: when I was trying really hard to eat right and exercise, I wasn't seeing results, and once I gave up and decided to eat whatever I felt like, I didn't gain a damn pound. So honestly, what's the point?
It seems like it's totally out of my control. And every once in a while, I get the urge to try again, especially when I see all the cute clothes in my closet that don't fit me right now, but then I think about how much work it is and how I've never been able to get permanent results before, and I don't feel like wasting effort doing something that probably won't work anyway.
I guess what it comes down to, in the end, is that it's not important enough to me for me to put any major effort into it. And that may change someday for all I know. But for now, all I want to do is do what makes me happy and hope for the best.
Anyway, something that bugged me on the trip, and bugged Kwiddens as well, is how much we ate. Actually, I should be more clear: it was how much more my (thin) grandparents ate compared to how much Kwiddens and I ate.
I felt like at every meal I would eat normal portions of the foods set on the table, and even not eat some of the foods, such as the potato chips we had with our hot dogs. Instead I ate more fruit and vegetables. And then my grandparents would go for seconds, and Kwiddens and I would just sit there and wait for them to finish. And they're the ones that are thin.
I've been thinking for some time about how genetics can play a huge role in how your body treats and processes food, and I've been wondering where in the world it could have come from. Kwiddens and I are overweight, but Em and Jorg aren't, and are able to eat anything they want and not gain weight. All of Mim's family are tall and thin, and I was wondering if it came from my biological dad's side of the family, but now that I've spent some time with them and seen that they 1) are thin and 2) eat so much more than I do, I realize that it isn't from them, either.
So what could it be? There must be something different between Em and Jorg and Kwiddens and me.
The first thing that comes to mind...stress.
Kwiddens and I were treated badly growing up. I won't go into detail, as that's really a story for another time (when I'm ready to talk about it, I suppose), but I'll just point out that Kwiddens had a worse time growing up than I did, and she's a bit more overweight than I am.
I know stress causes bad chemical imbalances in your body, and that can lead to weight gain, particularly around the stomach, and that's the bad fat that will cause problems later in life. Who knows, maybe it's causing problems now. It definitely hasn't done good things for my self-esteem, that's for sure.
But what happens when you go through 20+ years of intense stress and unhappiness? This.
I'm convinced that part of it is the combination of medications I'm on. I was always a bit on the heavy side (although, looking back, I wish I were the weight I was back when I thought I was fat), but I didn't become "overweight" until I started taking birth control before I got married, and I didn't become "obese" until I started taking an antipsychotic. I don't think that's a coincidence.
One of the many, many frustrating things about it is that I've since gotten my life under control, and I'm no longer under the intense stress I was growing up. I mean, yes, there are definitely stressful things in my life, but I'm not unhappy. I'm (mostly) handling it pretty well. There are bad moments, but they are far outweighed by the good moments.
Back to the stress of growing up, though. It's a well-known fact that stress changes your body's chemistry, both in the brain and in the rest of your body. So what does 20 years of unhappiness and emotional abuse and neglect do to a person? It's frightening to think about how badly your environment can affect your body.
Another interesting thing Kwiddens and I read in the Reader's Digest on the plane ride home yesterday was about different strains of bacteria in the intestines of fat and thin people. There are apparently two different types of bacteria, and how much you have of each appears to be directly correlated to how well your body metabolizes food. And wouldn't you know it, stressed-out people tend to have more of the "fat" bacteria than thin people do.
One last thing I'd like to add into this one-person discussion is this: when I was trying really hard to eat right and exercise, I wasn't seeing results, and once I gave up and decided to eat whatever I felt like, I didn't gain a damn pound. So honestly, what's the point?
It seems like it's totally out of my control. And every once in a while, I get the urge to try again, especially when I see all the cute clothes in my closet that don't fit me right now, but then I think about how much work it is and how I've never been able to get permanent results before, and I don't feel like wasting effort doing something that probably won't work anyway.
I guess what it comes down to, in the end, is that it's not important enough to me for me to put any major effort into it. And that may change someday for all I know. But for now, all I want to do is do what makes me happy and hope for the best.
Wednesday, September 11, 2013
The Sno-Cone Was Enormous
Last night I went to the Utah State Fair with a few friends. We had a blast! I haven't gone in a few years because the thing I like the most is the rides and I usually have nobody to ride with me (Scott doesn't like rides. He gets nauseated too easily. Also, they probably would be too hard on his back.) but this year my friend and I rode all the rides and it was so awesome. Since we went on a Tuesday night, there were almost no lines for rides (although there were long lines for food, except the gyro line, which is where I went) and we got to ride a few of them multiple times.
I really enjoy the rides, but more than that I love fair food! I had a gyro and some baklava, and later I had a giant sno-cone (Barbie flavored, which is bubblegum and cotton candy, because as you all know, I have the taste of a nine-year-old). Scott had some twirly fried potato thingies and later on a turkey leg, which made him pretty sick because of the grease, so he only ate a little bit of it and then he gave it to Buster when we got home. Buster didn't quite know what to make of it, so we had to pull off bits of meat and feed them to him.
Anyway, it was really good for us to get out of the house. We really enjoy spending time with the other couple who went with us. Most of all, Scott needed some sort of amusement to keep his mind off the pain and nausea and withdrawal symptoms (he had forgotten some meds that morning), and I think we accomplished that pretty well.
The only thing I didn't like was getting home so late. I usually hop into bed around 8:00 and am sleeping by 9:00 (because let's face it: I'm an old lady at heart), but I didn't get to sleep until about 11:00 last night, and today I am just dragging. I had a coffee this morning and that is helping, but I'm still sleepy. Oh well, it was totally worth it to have such a good time with some awesome friends.
Tuesday, September 10, 2013
Worry, Worry, Worry
You know, I'd been feeling not only depression, but hopelessness when it came to Scott's back pain. But he had another epidural injection last Thursday, and although I wasn't optimistic, it seems to be helping. He's not 100% pain-free, but he did something amazing the other day: he bent over and picked something off of the floor. I know that doesn't seem like a big deal, but around here it's a hella big deal. He was also able to spend a few hours on yard work the other day, and it hurt him, but he was able to push through it, whereas before he would have had to stop ten minutes in.
So although I know I can chalk up the last few weeks of depression to both a bipolar phase and life frustration at the same time, this was something that was bothering me badly and now it seems like we can live with it. Now the next thing to worry about is how long this injection will last. Previous injections have lasted up to two months. Unfortunately, he can only get them every three months because they're bone-degenerative. So if this one lasts two months, and that's a big IF, it'll leave him with a whole month of pain before he can get another one.
Anyway, that's just the nature of a bipolar person who thinks too much: I worry, and worry, and worry some more. It keeps me up at night. I can't often just live in the moment; I have to think things out, like in a chess game. I have to know what the plan is five steps from now. If I don't, I get uncomfortable or anxious.
On the other hand, sometimes it's nice to do something spontaneously, because then I don't have time to agonize over every little detail before it happens, like I'm currently doing with my trip down to see my grandparents next week. I know in my mind that everything will be fine, but I'm worrying about the stupidest little things and I need to stop.
So although I know I can chalk up the last few weeks of depression to both a bipolar phase and life frustration at the same time, this was something that was bothering me badly and now it seems like we can live with it. Now the next thing to worry about is how long this injection will last. Previous injections have lasted up to two months. Unfortunately, he can only get them every three months because they're bone-degenerative. So if this one lasts two months, and that's a big IF, it'll leave him with a whole month of pain before he can get another one.
Anyway, that's just the nature of a bipolar person who thinks too much: I worry, and worry, and worry some more. It keeps me up at night. I can't often just live in the moment; I have to think things out, like in a chess game. I have to know what the plan is five steps from now. If I don't, I get uncomfortable or anxious.
On the other hand, sometimes it's nice to do something spontaneously, because then I don't have time to agonize over every little detail before it happens, like I'm currently doing with my trip down to see my grandparents next week. I know in my mind that everything will be fine, but I'm worrying about the stupidest little things and I need to stop.
Friday, September 6, 2013
Knitting Friends For Life!
So things for me lately have been...rough. If I sit down and think about it rationally, it only boils down to three main things: stress at work, financial difficulties, and Scott's back pain. Each of those things is something to worry about, yes, but all three together plus a depressive episode is a recipe for three weeks of hopelessness, sadness, self-loathing, loneliness, etc. There were a few moments in there when I wanted to figure out a way out. OUT. I hadn't missed any of my meds; it just got that bad for a few days there.
I did what I could to pull myself out of it. I got plenty of sleep. I took time off work (not really by choice, though; can't work if you have a screaming migraine). I ate vegetables (and those of you that know me well know that that's kinda a big deal). I drank lots of water (and less Dr. Pepper). I took long, hot, relaxing baths. I read books I love. I watched movies and TV shows I love. I knitted and crocheted and looked longingly through books of stitch patterns. I fondled yarn. I snuggled Buster. I confided in people and spent time with people, even when I didn't feel like it.
But it wasn't enough. I was still depressed, just trying to climb out of a deep emotional hole, and failing miserably.
Let me tell you about something that happened last night.
Well, I'll start with yesterday. I had missed two days of work, and so when I got to work Thursday morning the intensely overwhelming reality of what all I had to do to catch up hit me like a freight train, and I decided then and there that it would be a Klonopin day. I took half a dose so I wouldn't be woozy at work (woozy+concentrated acid=bad, bad things), waited for it to kick in, and went about my day. I got so much done and I wasn't stressed about it at all. At about 12:30 I started to feel it wearing off, so I took another half of a dose. Right about as that second dose was wearing off it was time to go home. I had accomplished everything I needed to (and more) and I hadn't snapped at anyone or totally lost it, so I felt like it had been a good day. Of course, every day that you spend half-stoned tends to be a good day.
So I got home and changed my clothes and went straight over to the pub to meet my knitting group. I sat down, ordered some wine and fish and chips, and got knitting. Well, that's when it happened.
Let me start by saying that I've been meeting with this group of women at least once a week (but usually more) for more than two years now. They know me almost as well as Scott knows me, and that's really something. I don't usually let people in this far but somehow I've known all along that I can trust these women with my life and soul and there's never going to be anything but love and acceptance.
Now, I've been spending the past three weeks with them, and it's been a rough patch, so as much as I've been trying to stay positive, it's not been working as well as I thought. I'd been confiding in them about what's been bothering me, and they've been so kind to listen and sympathize.
Here's this lovely group of women, and they see me hurting, and they understand my pain, and as soon as I sit down at the table they hand me a giant, pink basket, tied with a pink, polka-dotted bow, overflowing with pink, sparkly gifts. One of them put it in front of me and hugged me tight and said "This is an 'I Love You' basket. We just wanted you to know that we all love you and if you need anything at all you just have to ask."
And I just lost it. Right there in the pub. It was all I could do not to sob. These beautiful, wonderful women came together and wanted to let me know in the sweetest way possible that I am one of them, that we are all friends, and that we all love each other very, very much.
So what was in the basket?
I'll show you!
A big pink basket thingy, which I can use for knitting or whatever I want, a pink bracelet, a pink nail polish, a pink back massager, pink hair-ties, pink lip balm, and even a slinky and a whoopee cushion because what's a gift basket without a little whimsy?
A pink, flowered clipboard, a gratitude journal, a skull notepad, three pink, sparkly notepads, a cute pen and pencil, and Halloween stickers (some of which are pets in costumes and it's ADORABLE).
Lavender vanilla bath salts, a ring pop, pink gum, a coffee mug, Tazo chamomile tea, a stress drink, and coffee-filled chocolate.
Two pink pillows, one of them lovingly hand-quilted, a skein of sock yarn, a skein of ruffle scarf yarn, and two skeins of pink yarn, one sparkly and one just a bit shimmery with a lovely halo.
And here it is all together.
I came home from last night, having had some delicious food, wine, and chocolate cake, and having received such a wonderful, thoughtful, personal gift from an entire group of ladies who wanted to brighten my day, and I was floating. I felt so much better about myself, about life, and about my current troubles.
That, my friends, is the power you hold over your fellow human beings. I went from hating life and wanting it to be over to overflowing with joy and love for my family and especially my group of friends, all because someone did something selfless and kind.
Someday I (or you, or anyone else) may have the opportunity to brighten someone's day. It might be something big like a giant, nice-smelling, delicious, pink, sparkly gift-basket, or it might be something as small as a smile or a little compliment, but I guarantee you I am not going to pass any kind of opportunity up if there's even a small chance I can make a difference in someone's life.
I did what I could to pull myself out of it. I got plenty of sleep. I took time off work (not really by choice, though; can't work if you have a screaming migraine). I ate vegetables (and those of you that know me well know that that's kinda a big deal). I drank lots of water (and less Dr. Pepper). I took long, hot, relaxing baths. I read books I love. I watched movies and TV shows I love. I knitted and crocheted and looked longingly through books of stitch patterns. I fondled yarn. I snuggled Buster. I confided in people and spent time with people, even when I didn't feel like it.
But it wasn't enough. I was still depressed, just trying to climb out of a deep emotional hole, and failing miserably.
Let me tell you about something that happened last night.
Well, I'll start with yesterday. I had missed two days of work, and so when I got to work Thursday morning the intensely overwhelming reality of what all I had to do to catch up hit me like a freight train, and I decided then and there that it would be a Klonopin day. I took half a dose so I wouldn't be woozy at work (woozy+concentrated acid=bad, bad things), waited for it to kick in, and went about my day. I got so much done and I wasn't stressed about it at all. At about 12:30 I started to feel it wearing off, so I took another half of a dose. Right about as that second dose was wearing off it was time to go home. I had accomplished everything I needed to (and more) and I hadn't snapped at anyone or totally lost it, so I felt like it had been a good day. Of course, every day that you spend half-stoned tends to be a good day.
So I got home and changed my clothes and went straight over to the pub to meet my knitting group. I sat down, ordered some wine and fish and chips, and got knitting. Well, that's when it happened.
Let me start by saying that I've been meeting with this group of women at least once a week (but usually more) for more than two years now. They know me almost as well as Scott knows me, and that's really something. I don't usually let people in this far but somehow I've known all along that I can trust these women with my life and soul and there's never going to be anything but love and acceptance.
Now, I've been spending the past three weeks with them, and it's been a rough patch, so as much as I've been trying to stay positive, it's not been working as well as I thought. I'd been confiding in them about what's been bothering me, and they've been so kind to listen and sympathize.
Here's this lovely group of women, and they see me hurting, and they understand my pain, and as soon as I sit down at the table they hand me a giant, pink basket, tied with a pink, polka-dotted bow, overflowing with pink, sparkly gifts. One of them put it in front of me and hugged me tight and said "This is an 'I Love You' basket. We just wanted you to know that we all love you and if you need anything at all you just have to ask."
And I just lost it. Right there in the pub. It was all I could do not to sob. These beautiful, wonderful women came together and wanted to let me know in the sweetest way possible that I am one of them, that we are all friends, and that we all love each other very, very much.
So what was in the basket?
I'll show you!
A big pink basket thingy, which I can use for knitting or whatever I want, a pink bracelet, a pink nail polish, a pink back massager, pink hair-ties, pink lip balm, and even a slinky and a whoopee cushion because what's a gift basket without a little whimsy?
A pink, flowered clipboard, a gratitude journal, a skull notepad, three pink, sparkly notepads, a cute pen and pencil, and Halloween stickers (some of which are pets in costumes and it's ADORABLE).
Lavender vanilla bath salts, a ring pop, pink gum, a coffee mug, Tazo chamomile tea, a stress drink, and coffee-filled chocolate.
Two pink pillows, one of them lovingly hand-quilted, a skein of sock yarn, a skein of ruffle scarf yarn, and two skeins of pink yarn, one sparkly and one just a bit shimmery with a lovely halo.
And here it is all together.
I came home from last night, having had some delicious food, wine, and chocolate cake, and having received such a wonderful, thoughtful, personal gift from an entire group of ladies who wanted to brighten my day, and I was floating. I felt so much better about myself, about life, and about my current troubles.
That, my friends, is the power you hold over your fellow human beings. I went from hating life and wanting it to be over to overflowing with joy and love for my family and especially my group of friends, all because someone did something selfless and kind.
Someday I (or you, or anyone else) may have the opportunity to brighten someone's day. It might be something big like a giant, nice-smelling, delicious, pink, sparkly gift-basket, or it might be something as small as a smile or a little compliment, but I guarantee you I am not going to pass any kind of opportunity up if there's even a small chance I can make a difference in someone's life.
Wednesday, September 4, 2013
Some Coworkers Are Totally Knitworthy!
Remember this?
Well, pretty much literally a year later, I found a use for the pretty yarn I made!
These were for a coworker, actually one of my favorite coworkers. She cuts me slack when I need it and always listens to me whine. She had commented on a picture of some mitts I made on Facebook, and so I decided to make some for her to show her how much I really appreciate all she does for me.
It looks like one is slightly bigger than the other, right? Yeah. Oops. But she still loved them and they fit her hands just fine.
Well, pretty much literally a year later, I found a use for the pretty yarn I made!
These were for a coworker, actually one of my favorite coworkers. She cuts me slack when I need it and always listens to me whine. She had commented on a picture of some mitts I made on Facebook, and so I decided to make some for her to show her how much I really appreciate all she does for me.
It looks like one is slightly bigger than the other, right? Yeah. Oops. But she still loved them and they fit her hands just fine.
Tuesday, September 3, 2013
It's All Falling Apart...Including Me
Something that has always been true about me is that when I get stressed, I get sick. All kinds of sick.
Recently my life has been stress, plus some stress, with stress on top. And I'm not handling it well.
There's a lot going on. I feel like we're drowning, financially. And I don't see an end to it. The medical bills are quite enough, thank you very much, but now the insurance company has decided not to cover Scott's pain clinic visits anymore. In order to pay for these, we had to reduce monthly contributions to Scott's 401K. It's not like Scott can go without. If he doesn't take painkillers every day, he's bedridden because the pain is so intense. Hell, even with the pain medication he's been bedridden lately and it's just killing both of us.
We're sitting on the Focus for the moment. I feel like selling it would pull us out of this financial hole, but we can't because Scott's company may or may not move, and we might end up needing a commuter car. We just don't know. In the meantime, it's broken anyway, and we can't afford to fix it.
So then there's work. It's not bad. It's just stressful, and I feel like I haven't been handling the stress lately. It's all I can do to drag myself out of bed in the morning and go in, because I know that I'll go in, have an incredibly stressful morning, and then, if things slow down, I'll be bored senseless all afternoon. If they don't slow down, I won't have time to take a lunch break or even go to the bathroom.
But the biggest thing of all is Scott's pain. There's nothing I can do about it at all. He has an epidural scheduled for this coming Thursday, but to be completely honest, I'm not hopeful.
I've kinda lost hope completely now. I've felt like this for a few weeks now. I'm so depressed it hurts, and my mind is taking it out on my body.
I've been feeling generally unwell, but I've also been getting awful headaches and body aches and nausea and tummygrumblies and this past weekend, I sneezed and it threw my back out. How sad is that?
I feel lately like no amount of talking it out or even drinking it away is helping. I got drunk last Friday and although I felt great while I was drinking, the next morning, even though I wasn't hung over, the weight of everything that's hurting me just descended back onto my shoulders and I could barely breathe for the stress of it all.
Why can't it be easy, just for a little while, just long enough for me to crawl out of this emotional hole?
Recently my life has been stress, plus some stress, with stress on top. And I'm not handling it well.
There's a lot going on. I feel like we're drowning, financially. And I don't see an end to it. The medical bills are quite enough, thank you very much, but now the insurance company has decided not to cover Scott's pain clinic visits anymore. In order to pay for these, we had to reduce monthly contributions to Scott's 401K. It's not like Scott can go without. If he doesn't take painkillers every day, he's bedridden because the pain is so intense. Hell, even with the pain medication he's been bedridden lately and it's just killing both of us.
We're sitting on the Focus for the moment. I feel like selling it would pull us out of this financial hole, but we can't because Scott's company may or may not move, and we might end up needing a commuter car. We just don't know. In the meantime, it's broken anyway, and we can't afford to fix it.
So then there's work. It's not bad. It's just stressful, and I feel like I haven't been handling the stress lately. It's all I can do to drag myself out of bed in the morning and go in, because I know that I'll go in, have an incredibly stressful morning, and then, if things slow down, I'll be bored senseless all afternoon. If they don't slow down, I won't have time to take a lunch break or even go to the bathroom.
But the biggest thing of all is Scott's pain. There's nothing I can do about it at all. He has an epidural scheduled for this coming Thursday, but to be completely honest, I'm not hopeful.
I've kinda lost hope completely now. I've felt like this for a few weeks now. I'm so depressed it hurts, and my mind is taking it out on my body.
I've been feeling generally unwell, but I've also been getting awful headaches and body aches and nausea and tummygrumblies and this past weekend, I sneezed and it threw my back out. How sad is that?
I feel lately like no amount of talking it out or even drinking it away is helping. I got drunk last Friday and although I felt great while I was drinking, the next morning, even though I wasn't hung over, the weight of everything that's hurting me just descended back onto my shoulders and I could barely breathe for the stress of it all.
Why can't it be easy, just for a little while, just long enough for me to crawl out of this emotional hole?
Wednesday, August 7, 2013
A Ridiculously Drunk Driver
Sometimes when I'm lying in bed trying to fall asleep and failing miserably (yes, that's a thing now, go go Geodon!) my mind wanders, and, sometimes, comes up with the most random crap. Sometimes it's useful; I've had some very clever work-related ideas while trying to fall asleep, and I've had a LOT of clever knitting-related ideas pop into my head, and that makes me feel like a genius.
So last night, after I was just in bed...waiting...I got up to take a hot shower to see if that would make me sleepy at all, and into my head popped an analogy.
Now, I bet at some point in time, somebody, somewhere has wondered, "What does it feel like to be bipolar?"
Well, here's what it feels like:
It feels like you're in the back of a car. You're in the back, so you can't reach the driver, but you can talk to him. Or her. Whatever.
Sometimes things are just fine, and you can tell the driver where you need to go and the driver will get you there safely without running anyone over or breaking any traffic laws.
The problem is, the driver is an alcoholic. And on any given day, you never know whether the driver is going to be sober, tipsy, or downright drunk.
So you're driving along, and on the days when the driver is tipsy, the car feels unsteady, but at least the driver will listen to you and go where you want. It's stressful, because you're afraid he's going to hurt someone, but you're still at least partially in control.
There are days, however, when the driver is totally plastered, and sometimes he got plastered because something upset him, but sometimes he just felt like drinking himself into a stupor for no good reason. When he's this drunk, that's when you're completely out of control. He won't listen to you at all. You beg and plead with him to please pull over and let you drive but he just won't do it, and you're stuck all the way in the back seat so there's absolutely nothing you can do to stop it. He starts driving around and he's hitting people with the car and breaking traffic laws and you're sure something really, really bad is going to happen and maybe you'll end up hurt yourself, but there's no way of knowing when or if he'll stop and you'll be back in control.
And that's the analogy I thought up in the shower last night. What do you think?
Seriously, that's what it's like. You're going about your day, feeling pretty in control of your feelings, and then something upsets you, and maybe you just brush it off and move on, like a normal person would, but sometimes you fixate on it and it makes you start to feel stressed out and anxious, and I'm not talking normal anxious. I'm talking full-out panic attack, the kind that makes no sense because who freaks the hell out because she spilled something in the kitchen? Me, that's who.
So you're upset about something. Sometimes you can think it through, come to a solution (or at least a way to live with it), and move on. Sometimes you can't. That's when the driver has begun the alcoholic binge. Sometimes it's not so bad, and you've been having these mood swings for so long that you can feel them coming on (or your adorable, sweet, perfect, wonderful husband can tell you're about to have one), and you can compensate for it. But sometimes all you can do is take a tranquilizer and hope that takes care of it, because if it doesn't, well, then you're in for a world of hurt.
It wouldn't be so bad if it only affected me, but the problem is, that drunk driver is hell-bent on running over the people closest to you, the people you love the very most. And since I've been blessed with a quick wit and a not-so-lovely talent for inflicting the most hurt with just a few, well-honed words, I can hurt people so very, very badly. I live in fear of the day that I lose control and say something to Scott that will make him hate me forever and ruin this wonderful thing we have going together. It would be something I didn't mean at all, of course, but when I lose control I get irritable and sometimes even very, very angry.
All I can do is remove stressors from my life and faithfully take my pills, three times a day (more if I have a freak-out). Those magic little pills are what keeps my driver sober (most of the time, anyway) and keeps me in control of what happens in my own life.
(And just to be perfectly, crystal-freaking clear, I DO NOT drive drunk. EVER.)
So last night, after I was just in bed...waiting...I got up to take a hot shower to see if that would make me sleepy at all, and into my head popped an analogy.
Now, I bet at some point in time, somebody, somewhere has wondered, "What does it feel like to be bipolar?"
Well, here's what it feels like:
It feels like you're in the back of a car. You're in the back, so you can't reach the driver, but you can talk to him. Or her. Whatever.
Sometimes things are just fine, and you can tell the driver where you need to go and the driver will get you there safely without running anyone over or breaking any traffic laws.
The problem is, the driver is an alcoholic. And on any given day, you never know whether the driver is going to be sober, tipsy, or downright drunk.
So you're driving along, and on the days when the driver is tipsy, the car feels unsteady, but at least the driver will listen to you and go where you want. It's stressful, because you're afraid he's going to hurt someone, but you're still at least partially in control.
There are days, however, when the driver is totally plastered, and sometimes he got plastered because something upset him, but sometimes he just felt like drinking himself into a stupor for no good reason. When he's this drunk, that's when you're completely out of control. He won't listen to you at all. You beg and plead with him to please pull over and let you drive but he just won't do it, and you're stuck all the way in the back seat so there's absolutely nothing you can do to stop it. He starts driving around and he's hitting people with the car and breaking traffic laws and you're sure something really, really bad is going to happen and maybe you'll end up hurt yourself, but there's no way of knowing when or if he'll stop and you'll be back in control.
And that's the analogy I thought up in the shower last night. What do you think?
Seriously, that's what it's like. You're going about your day, feeling pretty in control of your feelings, and then something upsets you, and maybe you just brush it off and move on, like a normal person would, but sometimes you fixate on it and it makes you start to feel stressed out and anxious, and I'm not talking normal anxious. I'm talking full-out panic attack, the kind that makes no sense because who freaks the hell out because she spilled something in the kitchen? Me, that's who.
So you're upset about something. Sometimes you can think it through, come to a solution (or at least a way to live with it), and move on. Sometimes you can't. That's when the driver has begun the alcoholic binge. Sometimes it's not so bad, and you've been having these mood swings for so long that you can feel them coming on (or your adorable, sweet, perfect, wonderful husband can tell you're about to have one), and you can compensate for it. But sometimes all you can do is take a tranquilizer and hope that takes care of it, because if it doesn't, well, then you're in for a world of hurt.
It wouldn't be so bad if it only affected me, but the problem is, that drunk driver is hell-bent on running over the people closest to you, the people you love the very most. And since I've been blessed with a quick wit and a not-so-lovely talent for inflicting the most hurt with just a few, well-honed words, I can hurt people so very, very badly. I live in fear of the day that I lose control and say something to Scott that will make him hate me forever and ruin this wonderful thing we have going together. It would be something I didn't mean at all, of course, but when I lose control I get irritable and sometimes even very, very angry.
All I can do is remove stressors from my life and faithfully take my pills, three times a day (more if I have a freak-out). Those magic little pills are what keeps my driver sober (most of the time, anyway) and keeps me in control of what happens in my own life.
(And just to be perfectly, crystal-freaking clear, I DO NOT drive drunk. EVER.)
Wednesday, June 5, 2013
Check It Out, Because I Totally Needed More Yarn
The other day I mentioned my friend R. selling me a lot of yarn from her stash. Here it is!
There was also a book with a multitude of sweater patterns, and several needles and a colorwork tool.
And I only spent $38.
Tuesday, June 4, 2013
Geodon Sounds Like A Pokemon Name
So, I've been on the Geodon for about two weeks now, and it's been two weeks of experimentation, with interesting results. Here, I'll share:
I was supposed to take half a dose twice a day for two days, then increase to the full dose twice a day. Instead, I started off with a full dose once a day because the medicine comes in capsules, not tablets, so I couldn't break them in half.
When I was on the Risperdal, I was taking the smallest possible therapeutic dose. When I was on the Abilify, I was cutting what the doctor gave me in half. The Lamictal works for the bipolar disorder, and the Wellbutrin takes care of the depression and boosts my baseline a bit, and the third medication (Risperdal or Abilify or Geodon) is just a kicker that gets rid of anxiety and irritability and what I call "mini" mood swings. Just a kicker. I only need a tiny bit. So when he said to take Geodon twice a day, I decided to try once a day to see if it was enough.
Emotionally, it seems like it is enough, and I feel great. There's been no anxiety so far during these past two weeks, and I don't feel irritable at all. I asked Scott if he could tell the difference, and he says I've been acting exactly the same as I was when I was on the Abilify, so psychotropically this is working out just fine.
The issue here is when to take it. The first thing is, I have to take it with a meal. Not just a snack; it needs to be a full meal. A study I found online said the ideal size was 500-1000 calories, and that it was better absorbed by the body around 1000 calories. The problem with this is that I don't eat meals that big very often. I did yesterday when I had lunch with The Kwiddens and we went to a buffet, but even when I go out to eat it's usually more like 500-800 calories. So if I take it in the morning, I have to make sure I eat breakfast, which I did most days anyway so that isn't much of a problem. If I take it at night, I'd have to take it at dinner, which is a bit early because...
...it makes me sleepy about an hour after I take it. Which is why it wasn't working out for me to take it in the morning, since it would kick in about the time I got to work and even after a Rock Star AND a Mountain Dew I was falling asleep at my desk. I was unbearably sleepy, and I had to stay at work anyway. It was painful to be that tired. The other thing about taking it in the morning is that after I get sleepy, if I had an opportunity to take a nap (like on weekends), then my left leg would twitch and I wouldn't be able to nap. I've NEVER not been able to nap. It's super weird for me.
So I thought to myself, okay, I'll take it with dinner and see what happens. I figured I would get sleepy about an hour after dinner, but at least I'd be awake all day at work (and that ended up being true) and perhaps it would help me sleep.
Well, it didn't help me sleep. In fact, last night I felt sleepy but couldn't get to sleep until I broke down and took a Benadryl to knock myself out. The super fun part was, I woke up at about four and oh, look, my left leg was twitching so badly I couldn't get back to sleep, so I just lay there for a while...twitching...and finally I just got up and went to work early.
So, summary: if I take it in the morning, I get sleepy at work and can't for the life of me take a nap, either because I'm at work or because my leg twitches. If I take it at night, I can't sleep because my leg twitches.
Scott wants me to keep myself on it for another week or so to see if these side effects go away, so tonight I'm going to try taking it with dinner and two Benadryls and see if that keeps me asleep.
Either way, even though I'm running on only about five hours of sleep today, I feel perfectly awake and alert. I'd forgotten how it felt to feel this awake, since I'd been on the Abilify for a year and that was what was making me sleepy. It feels good. That's why I want the Geodon to work out for me somehow.
That, and also because it's a quarter of the cost of the Abilify.
I was supposed to take half a dose twice a day for two days, then increase to the full dose twice a day. Instead, I started off with a full dose once a day because the medicine comes in capsules, not tablets, so I couldn't break them in half.
When I was on the Risperdal, I was taking the smallest possible therapeutic dose. When I was on the Abilify, I was cutting what the doctor gave me in half. The Lamictal works for the bipolar disorder, and the Wellbutrin takes care of the depression and boosts my baseline a bit, and the third medication (Risperdal or Abilify or Geodon) is just a kicker that gets rid of anxiety and irritability and what I call "mini" mood swings. Just a kicker. I only need a tiny bit. So when he said to take Geodon twice a day, I decided to try once a day to see if it was enough.
Emotionally, it seems like it is enough, and I feel great. There's been no anxiety so far during these past two weeks, and I don't feel irritable at all. I asked Scott if he could tell the difference, and he says I've been acting exactly the same as I was when I was on the Abilify, so psychotropically this is working out just fine.
The issue here is when to take it. The first thing is, I have to take it with a meal. Not just a snack; it needs to be a full meal. A study I found online said the ideal size was 500-1000 calories, and that it was better absorbed by the body around 1000 calories. The problem with this is that I don't eat meals that big very often. I did yesterday when I had lunch with The Kwiddens and we went to a buffet, but even when I go out to eat it's usually more like 500-800 calories. So if I take it in the morning, I have to make sure I eat breakfast, which I did most days anyway so that isn't much of a problem. If I take it at night, I'd have to take it at dinner, which is a bit early because...
...it makes me sleepy about an hour after I take it. Which is why it wasn't working out for me to take it in the morning, since it would kick in about the time I got to work and even after a Rock Star AND a Mountain Dew I was falling asleep at my desk. I was unbearably sleepy, and I had to stay at work anyway. It was painful to be that tired. The other thing about taking it in the morning is that after I get sleepy, if I had an opportunity to take a nap (like on weekends), then my left leg would twitch and I wouldn't be able to nap. I've NEVER not been able to nap. It's super weird for me.
So I thought to myself, okay, I'll take it with dinner and see what happens. I figured I would get sleepy about an hour after dinner, but at least I'd be awake all day at work (and that ended up being true) and perhaps it would help me sleep.
Well, it didn't help me sleep. In fact, last night I felt sleepy but couldn't get to sleep until I broke down and took a Benadryl to knock myself out. The super fun part was, I woke up at about four and oh, look, my left leg was twitching so badly I couldn't get back to sleep, so I just lay there for a while...twitching...and finally I just got up and went to work early.
So, summary: if I take it in the morning, I get sleepy at work and can't for the life of me take a nap, either because I'm at work or because my leg twitches. If I take it at night, I can't sleep because my leg twitches.
Scott wants me to keep myself on it for another week or so to see if these side effects go away, so tonight I'm going to try taking it with dinner and two Benadryls and see if that keeps me asleep.
Either way, even though I'm running on only about five hours of sleep today, I feel perfectly awake and alert. I'd forgotten how it felt to feel this awake, since I'd been on the Abilify for a year and that was what was making me sleepy. It feels good. That's why I want the Geodon to work out for me somehow.
That, and also because it's a quarter of the cost of the Abilify.
Monday, June 3, 2013
The Cutest Thing I've Ever Made
Nyah turns three in just a few days, so I made her a little dressie for her birthday:
Isn't that frigging adorable?!
Sunday, June 2, 2013
A Notions Bag For The Friend Who Sold Me A Crapload Of Yarn
Just the other day my friend R. was cleaning out her yarn stash to make room for her big move down to a smaller apartment in Salt Lake, and so I went over to dig through it and she sold me a crapload of yarn for just a few dollars!
Anyway, one of the skeins she sold me was this:
It's Noro Daria, a discontinued cotton/rayon blend, almost like a thin cord. It's shiny.
She told me that she had originally bought it because she wanted to crochet a little notions bag with it, but um...she doesn't crochet. So she said "What was I thinking??" and sold it to me!
So I, of course, being the sneaky friend I am, decided to make her a little notions bag with it.
First I crocheted a simple little pouch:
Next, I took a zipper and two squares of matching fabric and sewed them together with my machine:
Once the zipper was on, I just sewed the two fabric squares into a little pouch, slightly bigger than the pouch I crocheted (I know, that sounds backwards, but it works out better that way. You want the bag itself to support the weight of whatever is inside, not the lining).
Next was the magic trick. Well, it seemed like magic because I was feeling confused and hopeless because I'd never done something like this and though making the pouch was easy, and making the lining was easy, I had NO IDEA how to actually attach them together.
It turns out, it wasn't as scary as I thought it would be. It took some dexterity, but I pulled it off by hand-stitching the lining into the bag. If you don't look too closely, it's invisible. If you do look closely, it looks like a three-year-old sewed it together, but I think my friend won't mind. It just makes it more special, right? *snigger*
Anyway, so here it is with the lining and zipper installed:
The end! I'll give it to her on Thursday when I go to knit night.
Wednesday, May 22, 2013
The Ol' Switcharoo
In my ever-present quest to take care of myself emotionally AND physically, I've decided to try going off the Abilify and to try Geodon instead. The Abilify was working great, emotionally, but the side effects, mainly the sleepiness, were too much to bear. I was sleeping 11+ hours a night, and it was really cutting into my time for everything else. I think in a way it was making my depression a bit worse, because being so sleepy made me want to sleep all the time instead of hanging out with friends or knitting or watching movies or whatever. It's hard to be motivated to do anything at all when all you can focus on is "When can I get back to sleep?"
So I went to talk to my doctor on Monday, and let me tell you, this is the best doctor I've ever had. He actually listens to me and addresses my concerns, and when I tell him what I think is going to work for me he seriously considers it (and usually I get what I want from him, because I generally know what I'm talking about. I mean, I do lots of research before coming in to see him, so I can make intelligent choices as far as my medications go). So when I went in the other day and asked about Geodon (because I had taken it before and had experienced more of a "high" than a "low"), he went through a list of possibilities with me and discussed the pros and cons of each option, and in the end we settled on what I wanted to try first, and if that doesn't work we decided what to try next.
So how is it so far? Hard to say. I've only been on it for two days. So far, no anxiety or irritability, but, once again, it's only been two days, and Scott's out of town so I don't have him keeping an eye on me to see if I seem irritable or not. From my perspective, I'm not irritable.
As far as the sleepiness goes, I had an easier time getting out of bed this morning (after a night of waking up many, many times, but still feeling like my sleep was refreshing), and I felt more alert as I got to work and started working, but then I started drinking a Rock Star and, wouldn't you know it, it looks like on this medication caffeine is having an opposite effect. It could be that the Geodon is making me feel sleepy, and it just took a little while to kick in, but it seems like as soon as that Rock Star started to enter my system I started feeling sleepier than when I woke up. I'll try going caffeine-free tomorrow and see what happens.
I'll keep you all posted. I've been researching this medication and it seems like some people experience side-effects for the first two weeks or so and then they go away. My doctor wants to see me in six weeks to follow up, and hopefully by then I'll have good news for him. We'll see.
Oh, and it seems like a lot of people lose weight that they gained on other medications when they take this one. I'm not holding my breath, but wouldn't it be nice if I lost the weight I gained while on Risperdal? Maybe it's just wishful thinking...
So I went to talk to my doctor on Monday, and let me tell you, this is the best doctor I've ever had. He actually listens to me and addresses my concerns, and when I tell him what I think is going to work for me he seriously considers it (and usually I get what I want from him, because I generally know what I'm talking about. I mean, I do lots of research before coming in to see him, so I can make intelligent choices as far as my medications go). So when I went in the other day and asked about Geodon (because I had taken it before and had experienced more of a "high" than a "low"), he went through a list of possibilities with me and discussed the pros and cons of each option, and in the end we settled on what I wanted to try first, and if that doesn't work we decided what to try next.
So how is it so far? Hard to say. I've only been on it for two days. So far, no anxiety or irritability, but, once again, it's only been two days, and Scott's out of town so I don't have him keeping an eye on me to see if I seem irritable or not. From my perspective, I'm not irritable.
As far as the sleepiness goes, I had an easier time getting out of bed this morning (after a night of waking up many, many times, but still feeling like my sleep was refreshing), and I felt more alert as I got to work and started working, but then I started drinking a Rock Star and, wouldn't you know it, it looks like on this medication caffeine is having an opposite effect. It could be that the Geodon is making me feel sleepy, and it just took a little while to kick in, but it seems like as soon as that Rock Star started to enter my system I started feeling sleepier than when I woke up. I'll try going caffeine-free tomorrow and see what happens.
I'll keep you all posted. I've been researching this medication and it seems like some people experience side-effects for the first two weeks or so and then they go away. My doctor wants to see me in six weeks to follow up, and hopefully by then I'll have good news for him. We'll see.
Oh, and it seems like a lot of people lose weight that they gained on other medications when they take this one. I'm not holding my breath, but wouldn't it be nice if I lost the weight I gained while on Risperdal? Maybe it's just wishful thinking...
Saturday, May 11, 2013
Dear Scott (Year Six)
It's that time of year when I start to think about Scott, and myself, and our relationship, because hey, that's what you do on anniversaries.
So here's my letter to you, Dear Scott, and I hope you enjoy it (and feel the same way).
Dear Scott,
This year marks six years that we've been married, and about eight that we've been together. I can't even comprehend this. Before you, my longest relationship had been about seven months long, and OH BOY did that end badly, but I digress. I love that we've been together so long. I know that six years doesn't seem that long to some people, but it's made me feel like we've always been together, and I forget what most of my past has been like.
This past year has been hard for us. We had a few little spats, but nothing major, and, as usual, they were just about misunderstandings, not actual problems with our relationship. No, our relationship has never been a problem, and I am so, SO grateful for that. I feel like you and I have something more special than most other couples, and find myself wondering very often why other people can't be like us. We care about each other. We never talk badly about each other. We give each other enough space, and let each other have hobbies we enjoy. We talk every day about everything under the sun (even politics, sometimes) and I tell you I love you every chance I can. What a wonderful relationship we have. I hope it always stays this way, and gets even better with age.
This year has been hard for us in other ways, such as with money and with physical ailments. Your back continues to hurt, and now you have a broken foot, and seriously, can't we please catch a break? But we're still here, alive, and we've never wanted for necessities, so really, I can't complain. Challenges seem to be good for us, because our relationship seems to keep getting better and stronger. I love you more and more every day, and watching you be in this pain (and having withdrawals from trying to get off the medications) is heartbreaking and I never know what to do to help. I wish I could take all of the pain away from you and just deal with it myself. It's not fair that I've been relatively healthy this year and you're stuck with the problems.
We continue to not have (or want) babies, and that also makes me super happy. Like, crazy happy, just like you are, I'm sure. I feel like our little family, with you and me and Buster, is complete and perfect just the way it is. And babies are so expensive, and sticky, and our house would never be as clean as it usually is now.
I love that you love me despite my flaws and shortcomings. I love you, too, even though you're not perfect, though I can't think of anything specific right now that bugs me about you. In fact, you never bug me at all. Okay, I take it back. I love you in your near-perfection. And you love me even though I'm full of crazy over here. THANK GOODNESS for medications that keep me level and keep this relationship as stable as it is. I know I still have the occasional mood swing, but you're so on top of that shit. I mean, you know I'm there before I even know I'm there. And you know exactly how to take care of me and help me through the rough patches.
You work hard, and you're sweet, and generous, and loving, and I don't know what I'd do without you. You are my very favorite person in this whole world and I feel lucky that we found each other, because Babe, you are just so awesome.
Now let's go celebrate. By eating something tasty. And then going to bed early, because we're 90 years old like that.
Love you always and forever and even after that,
Anna
So here's my letter to you, Dear Scott, and I hope you enjoy it (and feel the same way).
Dear Scott,
This year marks six years that we've been married, and about eight that we've been together. I can't even comprehend this. Before you, my longest relationship had been about seven months long, and OH BOY did that end badly, but I digress. I love that we've been together so long. I know that six years doesn't seem that long to some people, but it's made me feel like we've always been together, and I forget what most of my past has been like.
This past year has been hard for us. We had a few little spats, but nothing major, and, as usual, they were just about misunderstandings, not actual problems with our relationship. No, our relationship has never been a problem, and I am so, SO grateful for that. I feel like you and I have something more special than most other couples, and find myself wondering very often why other people can't be like us. We care about each other. We never talk badly about each other. We give each other enough space, and let each other have hobbies we enjoy. We talk every day about everything under the sun (even politics, sometimes) and I tell you I love you every chance I can. What a wonderful relationship we have. I hope it always stays this way, and gets even better with age.
This year has been hard for us in other ways, such as with money and with physical ailments. Your back continues to hurt, and now you have a broken foot, and seriously, can't we please catch a break? But we're still here, alive, and we've never wanted for necessities, so really, I can't complain. Challenges seem to be good for us, because our relationship seems to keep getting better and stronger. I love you more and more every day, and watching you be in this pain (and having withdrawals from trying to get off the medications) is heartbreaking and I never know what to do to help. I wish I could take all of the pain away from you and just deal with it myself. It's not fair that I've been relatively healthy this year and you're stuck with the problems.
We continue to not have (or want) babies, and that also makes me super happy. Like, crazy happy, just like you are, I'm sure. I feel like our little family, with you and me and Buster, is complete and perfect just the way it is. And babies are so expensive, and sticky, and our house would never be as clean as it usually is now.
I love that you love me despite my flaws and shortcomings. I love you, too, even though you're not perfect, though I can't think of anything specific right now that bugs me about you. In fact, you never bug me at all. Okay, I take it back. I love you in your near-perfection. And you love me even though I'm full of crazy over here. THANK GOODNESS for medications that keep me level and keep this relationship as stable as it is. I know I still have the occasional mood swing, but you're so on top of that shit. I mean, you know I'm there before I even know I'm there. And you know exactly how to take care of me and help me through the rough patches.
You work hard, and you're sweet, and generous, and loving, and I don't know what I'd do without you. You are my very favorite person in this whole world and I feel lucky that we found each other, because Babe, you are just so awesome.
Now let's go celebrate. By eating something tasty. And then going to bed early, because we're 90 years old like that.
Love you always and forever and even after that,
Anna
Thursday, May 9, 2013
The Biggest Batch Yet!
A few posts ago I mentioned spinning 16 ounces of merino at once. Would you like to see? Of course you would!
I wish I had taken a picture of the wool in the braids. I did four four-ounce braids that I got at a fiber fair a few weeks ago from an indie dyer who is in my knit group. I saw the colorway and almost died, I wanted it so badly!
Here it is all spun up into singles (actually this is only about half of it):
And here is the first bit plied up on the bobbin:
Here's the first half plied:
And skeined:
The funny thing is, I had only bough eight ounces of it, but I loved spinning it so much that I started to make grand plans for it, and based on the yardage I got from the eight ounces I decided I needed to double it, so here's my full sixteen ounces all done:
I got 412 yards of bulky weight yarn out of it (before setting the twist. I haven't done that and my yardage will probably decrease a bit once I've washed and set it). The colors are truest in the center of the last picture.
I think this needs to be a hat, mitten, and scarf set to match my brown coat. I'd never use this yarn on anyone but myself, it's so pretty!
I wish I had taken a picture of the wool in the braids. I did four four-ounce braids that I got at a fiber fair a few weeks ago from an indie dyer who is in my knit group. I saw the colorway and almost died, I wanted it so badly!
Here it is all spun up into singles (actually this is only about half of it):
And here is the first bit plied up on the bobbin:
And skeined:
The funny thing is, I had only bough eight ounces of it, but I loved spinning it so much that I started to make grand plans for it, and based on the yardage I got from the eight ounces I decided I needed to double it, so here's my full sixteen ounces all done:
I got 412 yards of bulky weight yarn out of it (before setting the twist. I haven't done that and my yardage will probably decrease a bit once I've washed and set it). The colors are truest in the center of the last picture.
I think this needs to be a hat, mitten, and scarf set to match my brown coat. I'd never use this yarn on anyone but myself, it's so pretty!
Wednesday, May 8, 2013
Things I Love For No Good Reason
1. Riding on airplanes. I don't like traveling, but I do like the airplane rides. I don't know why.
2. 10th Kingdom.
3. School supplies. Fresh notebooks, pens, especially the colored gel pens (I know, SO 7th grade), highlighters, post-its (pink ones!), new mechanical pencils with matching mechanical erasers (they do have to match or else it bugs me to no end)...you name it, I love it.
4. Minesweeper.
5. TV shows about the paranormal. More often than not they're just drama but I love them anyway!
6. Really crappy movies. But a lot of people love these. They're just so good for making fun of!
7. Brand new asphalt with brand new paint lines!
8. CDs over mp3s. I just like having a hard copy, that's all...
9. Nyquil. I love the way it tastes. I love the way it feels warm going down. Mmm!
10. Filtered water. I know, it's almost the same thing, but I feel better if my water has been filtered.
7. Brand new asphalt with brand new paint lines!
8. CDs over mp3s. I just like having a hard copy, that's all...
9. Nyquil. I love the way it tastes. I love the way it feels warm going down. Mmm!
10. Filtered water. I know, it's almost the same thing, but I feel better if my water has been filtered.
Tuesday, May 7, 2013
Text Time 28
Kwiddens: "Troma awarness"
Me: Huh? Trauma awareness?
Kwiddens: Yep. A la Isaac's parents' neighbor.
Me: Wow.
Kwiddens: This girl I know posted on Facebook that she had a "mind grain".
Me: Hahaha
Kwiddens: And another girl "At lease I have real friends!"
Me: Ugh.
Kwiddens:
Moose has Desitin on his face and he looks like an uruk-hai.
Kwiddens:
I was playing in mud!
Kwiddens: I'm a terrible mom. Sometimes Nyah eats condiments for meals just because that's what she wants.
Me: Hahaha. Well, ketchup is a fruit...
Kwiddens: I'm talking peanut butter, cream cheese...
Me: Peanut butter has protein and heart-healthy oils. And cream cheese has calcium and protein.
Kwiddens: That's what I figure :)
Me: Huh? Trauma awareness?
Kwiddens: Yep. A la Isaac's parents' neighbor.
Me: Wow.
Kwiddens: This girl I know posted on Facebook that she had a "mind grain".
Me: Hahaha
Kwiddens: And another girl "At lease I have real friends!"
Me: Ugh.
Kwiddens:
Kwiddens:
I was playing in mud!
Kwiddens: I'm a terrible mom. Sometimes Nyah eats condiments for meals just because that's what she wants.
Me: Hahaha. Well, ketchup is a fruit...
Kwiddens: I'm talking peanut butter, cream cheese...
Me: Peanut butter has protein and heart-healthy oils. And cream cheese has calcium and protein.
Kwiddens: That's what I figure :)
Monday, May 6, 2013
Ruffles!
It just occurred to me that I haven't shown you all the cutest thing I've made in a long time.
For Christmas for Nyah I made a pink ruffle purse! The color is more exact in the first picture, and in the second you can see it completed.
I filled it with gummi bears.
Apparently she likes to wear it as a hat and it looks like brains. Not my intention, but adorable nonetheless.
For Christmas for Nyah I made a pink ruffle purse! The color is more exact in the first picture, and in the second you can see it completed.
I filled it with gummi bears.
Apparently she likes to wear it as a hat and it looks like brains. Not my intention, but adorable nonetheless.
Sunday, May 5, 2013
Kwiddens Hits Up Ogden
So Kwiddens is moving. She and Isaac got a house in Ogden (20 minutes from my house! Not 45!) and they'll be moving sometime around the 15th of this month. I'm super excited for her to be so close to me. When she used to live in Ogden I would go over after work a few times a week and hang out. We'd bake and watch movies and play with Nyah and go shopping...whatever we did, we did it together, and it was great. Now she'll have a house of her own, with her own kitchen, so we can bake again!
Saturday, May 4, 2013
I Learned Entrelac! And It Was Easy!
I've been meaning to make this sweater forever, and from the moment the pattern came out it was meant for Mim.
I sent Mim a picture of the yarn I was thinking of using. The dark grey would be for the main color, and either the rainbow or the blueandpinkypurple would be for the front entrelac panel.
She chose the rainbow, so I looked up a tutorial on how to do entrelac and started:
In progress:
And now the front panel is finished!
I did start on the body of the sweater. It's knit top-down, and I got to the waist shaping below the underarms when I lost steam, so there's not much progress there. Here's a picture I took just after dividing for the arms:
When I started the sweater I told Mim it would probably be two years before she got it, and I think I was right. I have so many projects going, and including this one, none of them have been appealing to me lately (except spinning), so nothing is getting done. But who cares, right? It's my hobby, and I'm not knitting to a deadline, so I should enjoy what I'm making and live in the moment.
I sent Mim a picture of the yarn I was thinking of using. The dark grey would be for the main color, and either the rainbow or the blueandpinkypurple would be for the front entrelac panel.
She chose the rainbow, so I looked up a tutorial on how to do entrelac and started:
In progress:
And now the front panel is finished!
I did start on the body of the sweater. It's knit top-down, and I got to the waist shaping below the underarms when I lost steam, so there's not much progress there. Here's a picture I took just after dividing for the arms:
When I started the sweater I told Mim it would probably be two years before she got it, and I think I was right. I have so many projects going, and including this one, none of them have been appealing to me lately (except spinning), so nothing is getting done. But who cares, right? It's my hobby, and I'm not knitting to a deadline, so I should enjoy what I'm making and live in the moment.
Friday, May 3, 2013
And Now For The Kwiddens!
For Christmas for The Kwiddens I made her a scarf out of this really pretty navy blue and gray chunky yarn I'd gotten as a gift that I'd been dying to use but had no idea what it wanted to be, until Kwiddens told me she liked navy blue and then I was all set to use it!
Check out this monster crochet hook I had to use with it. It's the second biggest hook I own, and it was super awkward, since I usually crochet with much finer yarns. It was still fun, though.
Here it is, all finished, pre-washing and blocking:
And, all finished on The Kwiddens:
Isn't she lovely?
Check out this monster crochet hook I had to use with it. It's the second biggest hook I own, and it was super awkward, since I usually crochet with much finer yarns. It was still fun, though.
Here it is, all finished, pre-washing and blocking:
And, all finished on The Kwiddens:
Isn't she lovely?
Thursday, May 2, 2013
Autumn And Christmas
Here are a few skeins I've spun up recently (and by recently I mean in the last several months...).
This one is an autumny color, with browns and golds and oranges, and although these usually aren't my colors, they turned out so pretty that I'm loving the result:
And, back to another Christmas item, since Em has taken up crocheting and a little bit of spindle spinning, and hopefully will soon let me teach her knitting, I made her yarn for Christmas last year in her favorite colors, red and black:
Both of these skeins turned out very even, about a sport or DK weight, which is what I was aiming for, so I was totally happy with that. I'm pretty sure they were both merino, too, and I got both braids from a woman in my knitting group who is a total genius with a dye pot.
This one is an autumny color, with browns and golds and oranges, and although these usually aren't my colors, they turned out so pretty that I'm loving the result:
And, back to another Christmas item, since Em has taken up crocheting and a little bit of spindle spinning, and hopefully will soon let me teach her knitting, I made her yarn for Christmas last year in her favorite colors, red and black:
Both of these skeins turned out very even, about a sport or DK weight, which is what I was aiming for, so I was totally happy with that. I'm pretty sure they were both merino, too, and I got both braids from a woman in my knitting group who is a total genius with a dye pot.
Wednesday, May 1, 2013
Christmas Knitting...FINALLY.
I am woefully behind on posting things related to projects, and I promise I have been working on many yarny things, but blogging, as you know, is not my forte.
So let's rewind back to Christmas, shall we?
For Mim I spun up some lovely purple sparkly yarn, knitted some mittens, and crocheted a scarf.
Singles on the bobbin:
Mitten #1:
Mitten #1 again, but in a cooler pose:
And, mittens! I know they look wonky; it's because I hadn't washed and blocked them at this point.
And since I was down to the wire on time, I crocheted the scarf instead of knitting it to match (I crochet much more quickly than I knit).
Mim says she loves them, though I haven't seen her wear them. Then again, I hardly ever get to see her anymore, and now the weather is warmer and she won't be needing them again until next winter anyway.
Friday, April 12, 2013
Is Switching Worth It, Anyway?
You know, I had a job interview at a pharmaceutical company back in February that I can't stop thinking about.
The whole time the interviewers (and there were two sets, and two interviews) had poker faces, so I couldn't tell if I did well or answered their questions right or not. But there was one question they asked me that I could have answered waaaaay better, and I can't stop thinking about how dumb my answer was, and what I should have said, etc.
It's stupid, really, because I didn't want the job anyway. I mean, it's in Salt Lake, and while my commute now is 20 minutes on a bad day, it took me 45 minutes to get down there not during rush hour. Also, the issue I have been trying to resolve at my current job wouldn't have been resolved to my satisfaction, so the whole thing ended up being a waste of time and money (I had to buy a suit for the interview, because my wardrobe consists of jeans and tee shirts).
The whole interview process got me thinking, though, and feeling terrible, because I'm just like that. If I were to get another interview at a different company, one closer to me with better potential for my happiness and stability, I don't know that I'd do well, either. I passed the HR interview in February with flying colors, I'm sure, because DAMN am I charming, but the chemists' interview...didn't go so well. Part of the problem is they weren't asking me questions about my current job and skills, but about things I did years and years and years ago, and of course I'm not going to remember everything from college because not only has it been almost six years, but my brain has also melted into a pool of psychotropic drugs and brain goo. But I can't exactly explain to an interviewer, "Hey, I'm bipolar, and my medication makes it hard for me to remember things" because OH BOY does that sound horrible and who knows what their views on mental illness are, and then of course they'd question my ability to actually do the job (which I'd be fabulous at, by the way, because I'm damn good in a lab, regardless of what I can't remember from six years ago).
Anyway, it got me thinking about everything, the whole situation, and the job I have now, and I realized: I don't want to leave this job. I really don't. And I don't think I could handle another interview situation with another company. The whole process was very stressful for me. So, I'm probably going to stay right here. Where I'm mostly happy and very, very comfortable.
The whole time the interviewers (and there were two sets, and two interviews) had poker faces, so I couldn't tell if I did well or answered their questions right or not. But there was one question they asked me that I could have answered waaaaay better, and I can't stop thinking about how dumb my answer was, and what I should have said, etc.
It's stupid, really, because I didn't want the job anyway. I mean, it's in Salt Lake, and while my commute now is 20 minutes on a bad day, it took me 45 minutes to get down there not during rush hour. Also, the issue I have been trying to resolve at my current job wouldn't have been resolved to my satisfaction, so the whole thing ended up being a waste of time and money (I had to buy a suit for the interview, because my wardrobe consists of jeans and tee shirts).
The whole interview process got me thinking, though, and feeling terrible, because I'm just like that. If I were to get another interview at a different company, one closer to me with better potential for my happiness and stability, I don't know that I'd do well, either. I passed the HR interview in February with flying colors, I'm sure, because DAMN am I charming, but the chemists' interview...didn't go so well. Part of the problem is they weren't asking me questions about my current job and skills, but about things I did years and years and years ago, and of course I'm not going to remember everything from college because not only has it been almost six years, but my brain has also melted into a pool of psychotropic drugs and brain goo. But I can't exactly explain to an interviewer, "Hey, I'm bipolar, and my medication makes it hard for me to remember things" because OH BOY does that sound horrible and who knows what their views on mental illness are, and then of course they'd question my ability to actually do the job (which I'd be fabulous at, by the way, because I'm damn good in a lab, regardless of what I can't remember from six years ago).
Anyway, it got me thinking about everything, the whole situation, and the job I have now, and I realized: I don't want to leave this job. I really don't. And I don't think I could handle another interview situation with another company. The whole process was very stressful for me. So, I'm probably going to stay right here. Where I'm mostly happy and very, very comfortable.
Thursday, April 11, 2013
My Two Poor Babies
I just wanted to check in and share a few bits of news.
First of all, Scott broke his foot. We have NO IDEA how it happened, but the doctor said that it was about four months ago, based on the x-rays.
He had been having some foot pain for quite some time, and when it started to get really bad and he felt a grinding inside his foot, he went to the Doctor, who said that he didn't think it was broken, but they'd take x-rays anyway just to be sure. They took four, all at different angles, and as the doctor was perusing them, he looked at each one and said, "Yep, not broken" until he got to the fourth one, when he said "Oh...".
Apparently there is a little bone at the base of his big toe that had broken into two pieces (somehow) and then healed itself...in two separate pieces. Kwiddens had something similar happen, and she had surgery to fix the problem, and they ended up putting metal plates in her foot to get the bones to heal back together. I suppose for some reason this wasn't an option for Scott's break, so there's nothing to be done about it AT ALL except to put an insert in his shoe to cushion it.
And the next bit of news: POOR BUSTER. Scott left for work yesterday and everything was fine. Then he realized he had forgotten something, turned around and headed back home, and walked into the house to find Buster, as happy to see Scott as ever, with blood gushing from his eye. Scott thought he'd better take him to the vet to make sure his eye wasn't damaged. The vet was in surgery, so we had to wait for him to take a look...that was a long couple of hours, just waiting for news. Anyway, it turns out his eye is fine, but there's a big scrape where he lost a lot of skin and a bit of flesh, and we still can't for the life of us figure out how in the hell it happened. I mean, we looked all over the house at all the corners and sharp surfaces and there was no blood or fur anywhere.
Anyway, he's mostly fine. We just have to give him antibiotics and put some ointment on it twice a day, and he should heal up just fine. It's still sad, though. Poor baby.
So that's the latest news from the Walker house. Other than these unfortunate incidents, everything is mostly okay.
First of all, Scott broke his foot. We have NO IDEA how it happened, but the doctor said that it was about four months ago, based on the x-rays.
He had been having some foot pain for quite some time, and when it started to get really bad and he felt a grinding inside his foot, he went to the Doctor, who said that he didn't think it was broken, but they'd take x-rays anyway just to be sure. They took four, all at different angles, and as the doctor was perusing them, he looked at each one and said, "Yep, not broken" until he got to the fourth one, when he said "Oh...".
Apparently there is a little bone at the base of his big toe that had broken into two pieces (somehow) and then healed itself...in two separate pieces. Kwiddens had something similar happen, and she had surgery to fix the problem, and they ended up putting metal plates in her foot to get the bones to heal back together. I suppose for some reason this wasn't an option for Scott's break, so there's nothing to be done about it AT ALL except to put an insert in his shoe to cushion it.
And the next bit of news: POOR BUSTER. Scott left for work yesterday and everything was fine. Then he realized he had forgotten something, turned around and headed back home, and walked into the house to find Buster, as happy to see Scott as ever, with blood gushing from his eye. Scott thought he'd better take him to the vet to make sure his eye wasn't damaged. The vet was in surgery, so we had to wait for him to take a look...that was a long couple of hours, just waiting for news. Anyway, it turns out his eye is fine, but there's a big scrape where he lost a lot of skin and a bit of flesh, and we still can't for the life of us figure out how in the hell it happened. I mean, we looked all over the house at all the corners and sharp surfaces and there was no blood or fur anywhere.
Anyway, he's mostly fine. We just have to give him antibiotics and put some ointment on it twice a day, and he should heal up just fine. It's still sad, though. Poor baby.
So that's the latest news from the Walker house. Other than these unfortunate incidents, everything is mostly okay.
Wednesday, April 3, 2013
Babette for ME! In PINK!
My favorite colors are pinks and purples.
When I made Mim her Babette, I loved making it so much that I wanted to make another, and since I hadn't made myself a blanket EVER, I decided it ought to be for me.
Well, I finally finished it last week!
Here it is, spread out on the couch:
I am so very, very happy with how it turned out. It's huge and snuggly and nice and warm, which is everything a fabulous blanket should be.
When I made Mim her Babette, I loved making it so much that I wanted to make another, and since I hadn't made myself a blanket EVER, I decided it ought to be for me.
Well, I finally finished it last week!
Here it is, spread out on the couch:
I am so very, very happy with how it turned out. It's huge and snuggly and nice and warm, which is everything a fabulous blanket should be.
Tuesday, April 2, 2013
It Doesn't Have A Name Yet
Last week we had a little car trouble adventure.
It all started Monday morning, when the check engine light came on in my Focus. CRAP. We just replaced a part in January, so this was annoying. Anyway, I left work early to take it in and O'Reilly helped us plug in the diagnostic thingy and it said it was the shift solenoid. Since that's a part of the transmission, that wasn't something Scott could fix himself, so we needed to take it in. We found a transmission place in Sunset and took it in. We told them what was wrong and they started to take a look at it. To make a long story short, they tried to con us out of almost $600 just to take it apart and figure out what was wrong, not even to fix the problem. So we took it to a different transmission shop, who said, surprise, surprise, that it was the shift solenoid. $240 to fix, done in one day.
We've been talking for a while about when we planned on getting me a new car (well, newER, anyway)(we'd never buy a brand new car because they depreciate in value way too quickly) and we had decided that later this year after the truck was paid off would be a good time to get a new car. Well, with the recent car troubles we kinda decided that it would be wise to get a new one now rather than later, since the Focus seems to be nickle-and-diming us at this point. We didn't want to spend the money, but it really had to be done.
So, without further ado, I introduce to you the Nissan Versa, in a lovely, dark chocolate color:
This car is little and fun to drive and very, very cute. We haven't measured the gas mileage yet, but supposedly it gets like 35 miles to the gallon (as compared to the Focus, which gets about 30). It has a much quieter engine, so I can actually hear my music while I'm driving without cranking it up so loud my ears start to hurt.
We haven't named it yet, but we still haven't really named the Focus, and we've had it for almost five years.
We're going to keep the Focus for now, since Scott's company may be moving and we don't know how far they would go. Right now they are two miles from our house, so driving the truck to work is just fine, but it only gets 12 miles to the gallon on a good day, so if Scott's company ends up moving to, say, Salt Lake, then we're going to want a commuter car for Scott. If it turns out they don't move or else they move somewhere close, like just to another office here in Layton, then we'll sell the Focus and put some or all of that money onto the loan on the Versa.
It all started Monday morning, when the check engine light came on in my Focus. CRAP. We just replaced a part in January, so this was annoying. Anyway, I left work early to take it in and O'Reilly helped us plug in the diagnostic thingy and it said it was the shift solenoid. Since that's a part of the transmission, that wasn't something Scott could fix himself, so we needed to take it in. We found a transmission place in Sunset and took it in. We told them what was wrong and they started to take a look at it. To make a long story short, they tried to con us out of almost $600 just to take it apart and figure out what was wrong, not even to fix the problem. So we took it to a different transmission shop, who said, surprise, surprise, that it was the shift solenoid. $240 to fix, done in one day.
We've been talking for a while about when we planned on getting me a new car (well, newER, anyway)(we'd never buy a brand new car because they depreciate in value way too quickly) and we had decided that later this year after the truck was paid off would be a good time to get a new car. Well, with the recent car troubles we kinda decided that it would be wise to get a new one now rather than later, since the Focus seems to be nickle-and-diming us at this point. We didn't want to spend the money, but it really had to be done.
So, without further ado, I introduce to you the Nissan Versa, in a lovely, dark chocolate color:
This car is little and fun to drive and very, very cute. We haven't measured the gas mileage yet, but supposedly it gets like 35 miles to the gallon (as compared to the Focus, which gets about 30). It has a much quieter engine, so I can actually hear my music while I'm driving without cranking it up so loud my ears start to hurt.
We haven't named it yet, but we still haven't really named the Focus, and we've had it for almost five years.
We're going to keep the Focus for now, since Scott's company may be moving and we don't know how far they would go. Right now they are two miles from our house, so driving the truck to work is just fine, but it only gets 12 miles to the gallon on a good day, so if Scott's company ends up moving to, say, Salt Lake, then we're going to want a commuter car for Scott. If it turns out they don't move or else they move somewhere close, like just to another office here in Layton, then we'll sell the Focus and put some or all of that money onto the loan on the Versa.
Sunday, March 3, 2013
A Baby Shower Dinosaur
A friend recently had a baby shower. We had it at a cafe in Clearfield and I had the most delicious hash browns with gravy and cheese and bacon and mushrooms, and scones, and lots of coffee, yum! And afterward we went to a yarn store, but I digress...
Anyway, her shower theme was dinosaurs, so along with the 10 burp rags I crocheted her (in two different colors: blue/white and green with pink/purple bits) I made her a stuffed dinosaur! Of course, I forgot to take pictures of the burp rags, but they weren't remarkable so it's not like I'd be showing off if you got to see a picture of them...
My friend came over and, in exchange for some spinning fiber, she sewed all the pieces up for me because she's such a good friend and I hate sewing. In fact, I will probably never make a stuffed toy again because not only do I hate sewing, but I've now made two dinosaurs, one knitted and one crocheted, and I didn't particularly enjoy making either of them.
Anyway, Scott said it was hideous but I thought it turned out kinda cute. Slightly wonky, but cute.
Anyway, her shower theme was dinosaurs, so along with the 10 burp rags I crocheted her (in two different colors: blue/white and green with pink/purple bits) I made her a stuffed dinosaur! Of course, I forgot to take pictures of the burp rags, but they weren't remarkable so it's not like I'd be showing off if you got to see a picture of them...
My friend came over and, in exchange for some spinning fiber, she sewed all the pieces up for me because she's such a good friend and I hate sewing. In fact, I will probably never make a stuffed toy again because not only do I hate sewing, but I've now made two dinosaurs, one knitted and one crocheted, and I didn't particularly enjoy making either of them.
Anyway, Scott said it was hideous but I thought it turned out kinda cute. Slightly wonky, but cute.
Saturday, March 2, 2013
A Thank You! Scarf
Recently a dear friend finished knitting a pair of socks and was displeased with them...something about having to redo one of the legs and then the stripes didn't match. Anyway, since such things don't bother me at all, she gave them to me! They fit perfectly and they're pink and stripey and I love them so much!
As a Thank You!, I made her a scarf. First I spun the yarn:
100% BFL (Blue-Faced Leichester, a breed of sheep), 4 ounces.
Then I knitted the scarf out of it:
It's the scarf pattern the Yarn Harlot invented, the One Row Handspun Scarf. Usually I crochet scarves instead of knitting them because they work up a lot faster, but this time I decided to be adventurous and knit it, and, surprisingly, it only took two days. Granted, they were weekend days where all I did was sit around and knit, but still, two days is super fast for me!
Anyway, she LOVED it! She's been wearing it every time I've seen her since I gave it to her.
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