I love finding pictures of myself from years, and years and years ago. Being that I'm into day 4 on my sick bed (sofa), I started looking through some of my photo albums that have been boxed away for the past year. Most of the photos are from my adventures in far places. One photo particularly caught my eye. This is me from 1993, at the silly young age of 24. Climbing a mountain in Yosemite Park, CA.
Me!
My friend and I enrolled in a four day mountaineering and climbing school in Yosemite. This particular picture has special meaning because I truly thought I might never make it down from the mountainside that day. It was day three of our climbing class. It was tough. I had problems early on climbing over a particular crack in the rock and I couldn't move. I was stranded for nearly 40 minutes trying to maneuver out my predicament.
Strength was leaving me (sayounara, sister), and I wasn't sure if I could make it to the top. At that moment, just before desperation set in, I heard my friend calling my name. I thought perhaps he was going to offer me some words of encouragement that would carry me straight to the top of that mountain. I looked in his direction, waiting to hear those words that would inspire, but instead of, "Come on, you can do it," I heard, "Say cheese!" Click. He had taken my picture. I wanted to laugh, I wanted to cry, I wanted him to repel over the side of the cliff with faulty rope.
Obviously I made it down off that mountain, and I have some fantastic pictures to remember the experience. I learned two very important things about myself during my climbs on the mountains in Yosemite:
1. I can do anything I want. I just have to ask fear to step aside for a bit.
Watching the cardinal feasting from our bird feeder on Sunday, the cardinal being decked out in his brightest red finery of the season, made me think of decorating the bird feeder for Christmas--I held that thought for only a nano second...any longer and I would have acted on impulse.
I can imagine our bird friends gathering at the feeder (aglow with tiny blinking lights, oh, and a wreath), enjoying their sunflower seeds, chirping about their decision to stay here for Christmas this year rather than flying south. Maybe next year I will festoon the feeder, but the idea did inspire me to search for Christmas bird houses this morning, and viola:
You know the over-used adage: "If you can't be 'em, join 'em" (this is my more colloquial version of the saying)? I've gone and done it. After spending decades trying to "cure" my chronic depression and anxiety with slight results, an epiphany of sorts led me to this realization: there is no cure for anxiety, depression and stress. There just isn't that one magic bean I have been hoping for to make me anxiety and depression-free.
In my early twenties I began a daily regimen of anti-depressants that seemingly helped with obsessive thoughts and I believed for a while I was "repaired," until my next episode of depression came out of no where. Meds and therapy for the next decade, same results. Last year, 2 years ago I added neurofeedback to the mix. Magic bean? No, but it has helped me re-train my brain to function more appropriately to stressful plights, allowing me to react more rationally in situations rather than immediately going into super-charged anxiety mode. Without the neurofeedback, I doubt very much I would have had my revelation, which in 2 months time has led to an entirely new way of dealing with myself, and an arsenal of new tools I'm incorporating into accepting and, dare I say, embracing my anxiety and depression.
The phrase for today is "managing." There is no "curing" anxiety and the related depression, it all comes down to accepting it is there, thereby "controlling" it so it doesn't control me. I accept that I'm going to be anxious most hours of the day, breathe my way through it, and decide to function after all. It is that simple (though it has taken me a rather long time to reach that mesa).
Now what? The crow sandwich part. I have myself become one of those people I haughtily judge as "flakes." I'm taking a more holistic approach to living with anxiety and depression since I now realize the anxiety fairy will never leave the magic bean under my pillow. I'm eating "happy" foods (see my earlier post on happy foods), I'm having massages, I'm researching homeopathic doctors and acupuncturists in my area, I've started seeing a chiropractor to repair some of the damage my anxiety and stress has inflicted on my poor innocent spinal column, and I'm continuing my neurofeedback (though I'm down to monthly instead of weekly).
I repeat positive mantras to myself throughout the day, and I'm attending online "anxiety and the creative soul" seminars, and I am now attending group meditation each week.
I continue to take my anti-depressants daily, but will remain at my lower dose. I just purchased a new set of relaxation and meditation cds that use brainwave entrainment technology on my alpha, theta, and delta waves, similar to the neurofeedback, and of course, I still run a few nights each week because the endorphins are the star player in knocking the wind out of anxiety and depression.
The most important change? I breathe. Breathing is critical to punching my way out of the anxiety paper bag. I was not aware, until my therapist told me last year, that I'm breathing from my chest, and not my diaphragm, which does not give my brain enough oxygen. OK, done! I've practiced breathing enough that it has become automatic.
Another hugely important issue came up a few months ago: I was diagnosed with hypothyroidism and have been prescribed Synthroid. Depression and anxiety can be caused and exacerbated by thyroid issues, so I urge everyone to have blood work done and make sure they test your thyroid! I know, it is yet another pill I have to take everyday, but it is most certainly worth it!
Presto...no magic beans, but now that I'm a flake, I have yet another great reason to laugh at myself.
A few weeks ago I posted some inaniloquent musings about things I miss (mostly from my childhood in the 80s), and my Generation X nostalgia crept in again this morning with flashbacks of everything "80s" like television shows, games, friends, playing outside, nukes, and of course our Atari system.
Growing up as an Xer during the Cold War was such an anxious time (at least for me) because the threat of nuclear annihilation lingered constantly in the back of the mind, like that musty smell in an attic that no amount of mothballs can shake (I honestly prefer the musty smell to the mothball smell). I remember riding my bike one evening and the sky looked strange, purple and dark grey, and I thought, "Oh, know, the bomb has been released and I'm going to die."
Doom and gloom were always a part of me, so when Atari came along, and my parents decided to buy the system for us, it was something new and wildly exciting that took my mind off exploding into a million radiated bits.
My parents (like many at that time) were worried that we would no longer want to play outside and that we Gen Xers would become zombies, addicted to this new fangled machine with it's hideous graphics (I'll be honest, we didn't find those graphics hideous at the time because we had nothing to compare them to, except Pong, and hands down, Atari graphics were much better), replete with sound effects.
It turns out, parents of Generation X didn't need to worry about coercing us into video gaming rehab or forcing us to go outside and get some fresh air. We wanted to be outdoors. Sure, trying to figure out the new Raiders of the Lost Ark game or improve our Missile Command skills was fun stuff, but after a while, the outside world called our names, boredom with the Atari system would set in and we would be jonesing (now there is a lost but not forgotten 80s term for you) to get outside and pass the football around, or build a tree house, or dig in the dirt.
Being in the outdoors seemed less scary after playing indoors with the Atari, though I'm not sure why. The foreboding war still loomed in the background as before, but perhaps my desire to "live" or my bravery intensified after experiencing being shot at by space creatures, dodging barrels hurled at me by Donkey Kong, or swinging over a pit in the jungle to escape deadly scorpions? Game Over.
I swear, October isn't even here yet and the Christmas faeries are already stuffing thoughts and ideas into my head! Last year I composed a brief post about Christmas gifts for intelligent women, and hopefully I helped a few people with gift buying ideas for 2010. In anticipation of the 2011 holidays, I've already charged ahead and created my "2011 Christmas Gifts for Kooky, Fun, Intelligent Women" post to help out those early shoppers, and perhaps jump start those pesky procrastinators (I lump myself into the latter category):
Meliciously Yours tshirts make my list again. These soft vintage tees with Victorian inspired designs make me feel empowered and feminine when I wear them (no, unfortunately, that is not me in the picture). When I wear these tees out, I nearly always have women asking me, "Where did you get that shirt?" That's easy! Go to the Melicious Tees site and order one (or two, or three) for yourself or the hip, bright chick(s) in your life (or if you are in the North Carolina, South Carolina area, a few boutiques along the coast sell them). I personally like the new 'Innovator' design. Meliciously Yours is also a proud sponsor of Girls Rock NC, a non-profit organization that provides music and arts programming for girls ages 7 - 17!
The Emwave Pc Stress Relief Biofeedback Heartmath System is on my personal Christmas list this year. Yeah, I know it sounds a bit like science fiction, and a few years ago I would have gone so far as to say this is a bit "flaky" but I use this device from time to time in my therapist's office and she recommends I get one for myself, so Poseidon, if you are reading this...just want you to know what you can add to my Christmas list for 2011. This little contraption guides you to achieving more creative energy levels and reducing your anxiety and stress levels. Hear that intelligent gals everywhere? This little gadget helps reduce stress! I can personally vouch for it's effectiveness (ok, its effectiveness on me...I don't want hate emails later).
What woman doesn't love shoes (there may be some out there who just don't get shoes, and I call them freaks)? Poetic License is one of my favorite shoe brands because they come in some wacky textures and colors, yet classic enough to wear to work. The Poetic License Jeweled Expression flat is a sensible, yet funky shoe for the intelligent belle. Not too high, just right. Even my batty little bunions don't scream quite as loudly as they could in Poetic License shoes. Try Endless.com when shopping for Poetic License shoes because they seem to be cheaper than other online shoe sites. I know in my area, Belk carries this line, but they usually have only a handful of styles.
Another item from my 2010 shopping list that is making a repeat performance is the B&N's Nook Color. Now, I still haven't purchased one of these myself because I worship paper books and I'm not ready to part with the feel of paper on my fingers and all of that nonsense. But, my sister does own one of these now and it is super handy and super cool. I think I mentioned last year that my mother-in-law has the nook (not the one in color), and she still loves it. As a matter-of-fact, a few weeks ago her power was out, she had no lights for hours, but she could still read! For now, ladies (and gents), I'm sticking with the old-fashioned kind of book, but I recommend these, especially great for travel. You can read, surf, or just look distinctly smart while carrying it around.
Last but not least, everyone should visit Maylee's Garden on Artfire.com. Poseidon and I buy her handmade laundry detergent and it is fantastic! The scents are incredible, most notably the nag champa. My other favorite is patchouli lavender (though I think patchouli is sometimes difficult to get because the patchouli crop demand is still greater than the supply, so sometimes she may be out). We always buy our laundry detergent from Maylee's Garden rather than local stores because the essential oils and scents make the laundry smell spectacular (I'm not just saying that). You actually use much less of Maylee's detergent than you do store-bought suds, so the price is well worth it! She often sends a sample pack of a new scent with our order, which is an added bonus. Maylee's Garden also has soaps, perfume oils, and she even makes a shampoo bar specifically formulated for dreadlocks (I've never tried it because, well, I don't have dreads -- not yet). Please do visit her site. Her products would make great gifts for moms, mother-in-laws, sisters, cousins, aunts, daughters, friends, (ok even men), etc.
I know it is a short list, but it's been a busy year (new job, gallbladder removed, house on the market, etc.) and I personally haven't seen much in the way of anything intensely new or exciting screaming "BUY ME, DAMN IT."
Before closing, I just want to add a word or two (or a few) about gift cards. Gift cards may seem boring and dull, and some may even say "tacky," but they are usually much appreciated, so if you have to wimp out and you just can't summon any imaginative shopping juice from the creativity gods and none of the above ideas are "just right," then gift cards are a sensible choice. I recommend Sephora, Amazon, or a local day spa (if you are in the Raleigh, NC area or GA, TN, FL, or KS, I highly recommend Natural Body Spa).
I've been working as a computer programmer/analyst/project manager for almost 16 years now and I'm bored. I like what I do (most of the time) but I'm asking myself lately what it is that I really want to do. I've decided. I want to be a Samurai.
During my last semester of college I had to take one more elective course, and every course I was interested in taking was full, so my counselor, Sister Mary (I won't use her last name, yes it was a Catholic college, and no, I'm not Catholic), talked me into taking a Japanese film and literature course. Actually, there wasn't much "talking" involved...she registered me for it, told me I was taking it, and that was that. Nuns are very decisive.
Despite my determination to be obstinate, I fell in love with the course immediately. Never did I think of Samurai warriors and medieval Japan as being so romantic (yes, I saw Shogun as a child, and yes Richard Chamberlain was hot). I don't mean romantic in the gushy way, but in a beautiful, historic, respected way of life way...if that makes sense. I was enthralled with this part of history that I knew nothing about. I've been to Japan, and it is breathtakingly beautiful, but the stories of the Samurai warrior and their lonely, albeit exciting, lives made a huge impact on me during that class. So prodigious in fact, that I decided I would like to be a Samurai.
Though the Samurai way of life was once very noble and respected, there isn't much demand for them these days. There are no wealthy landowners who are looking to have their acres protected or poor villagers looking for a ronin (a wandering, lone samurai) to save them from evil miscreants who come to steal their meager dwellings and rice. I've read through the want ads, performed searches on Monster.com and Craigslist (I did find an ad for a Samurai on Craigslist, but it wasn't the kind of Samurai job I was looking for, more specifically, I wasn't the type of Samurai they were looking for), but alas, nothing.
Until I find a position as a Samurai, I have to be content with watching old Kurosawa flicks and refrain from committing hara-kiri. I suppose it's just as well. Samurai were paid in rice, and I'm trying to watch my carbohydrate intake. Sayonara ( さようなら ).
Wow! First, I can't believe I haven't blogged in some time now, and I miss it, but planning the wedding is taking more time than I thought it would (sigh). However, I'm in a pretty good mood because tomorrow is Friday, AND because one of my favorite people ever, Karl K. has popped up on Facebook. Welcome buddy!
Getting back to one of my last blog posts...so I did finished sewing my first dress, the orange dress I spoke of in my Zipper Madness post, and it came out ok, but I f'd up the sleeves, which is ok. I was rather calm about it (thank you weekly neuro-feedback sessions!!!) and I considered it a learning experience, which is soooo unlike me.
Anyway, my next project is making pajama pants...for Poseidon (click here to see the fabric I'm using...yes I am). The awesome part about this sewing project is that he is my fiance and he can't not wear them (double negative?), no matter how shitty they come out. I mean if one leg is shorter than the other, he has to wear them and act as though they are the finest pajama pants he has ever had. Truly, he does have to do that.
OK my pretties, I know, this has been a short stupid, not-so-funny blog, but I will update you on this project soon and I will add as much sarcasm and self-degradation as usual. I've also vowed to get back to blogging at least twice each week, but I'm also a flake, which means doing what I make myself promise I'll do at times goes undone : (
Now that my first skirt is complete and I'm still intact, nerves and all, I'm starting my next sewing project. A funky orange dress, and this one has a zipper. I'm nervous about the zipper. I don't think I've ever sewn a zipper in anything...ever.
I bought the zipper last weekend. I felt confident as I strolled down the zipper aisle in the fabric store. "How pretty," I thought as I gazed at the array of zippers, arranged in rainbow order. I was looking for an orange one, and it took me a while actually because a brown zipper was covering the orange zippers (you can't really blame the brown zippers, they just want to be noticed with the rainbow colors too), but I found it. It is 22" and "tango" orange, to match the orange fabric.
I jumped into this project with enthusiasm, cutting out my fabric, marking it, arranging it. Then, as I read through the pattern's directions, I glanced down and remembered, "Uh-oh, this one has a zipper, and I'm going to have to sew it. I got scared. I've never sewn a zipper and now I don't want to.
I followed the directions for the dress, skipping the zipper part, even did some other things to avoid reaching the zipper part. Finally, avoidance was futile, so I pulled the zipper from the bag and stared at it. This zipper, so perfect and new with it's straight teeth snarling at me. I'm intimidated. It's laughing at my weakness and it knows I'm afraid of it...I don't think I can do this.
Here it is, the finale in my series of the trials and tribulations of sewing my very first skirt. Though this is the last installment in this particular series, I doubt it will be my last drama on sewing in general because this sewing thing has been strangely normalizing to my complex psyche (I've been told I have a "psyche more complex than most"...yup, I don't know whether to cry or laugh about that one).
After practicing by making a few napkins, I bought a skirt pattern, fabric, etc., and got down to business. The amazing part about this making-my-own-skirt thing is that I'm actually finding I have some patience stored way down inside--deep, cavern deep. These newly discovered patience aren't going to be shared with everyone I can assure you, but it's nice to know I have some, even a minuscule amount and they can be summoned if I really need them (ok, want them).
Getting back to the skirt part...no animals were harmed (although, Kwinn, my Siamese cat, almost had his voice box removed by me and his tail cut off, on purpose...I said almost), but I did break the sewing machine needle, had to re-thread the machine at least 83 times (random large number), sewed the waistband on inside out, twice (ah, those patience came in handy for that one), used the seam ripper more times than the total number of shoes I've ever owned (maybe not quite that many), went through 3 bobbins, two spools of thread, stabbed myself repeatedly with every thing possible on that machine (and off the machine...you know, pens, pins, scissors, splinter from my wooden ruler), burned myself while pressing seams, but I finished the damn skirt and no one went to the emergency room!
My next project will be a dress...with a zipper! Oh, and it's going to be bright orange with lots of abstract swirls so no one can see the blood that will be a sure thing from the new rotary blade I just bought for fabric cutting.
This little storyline full of craziness is growing quite long isn't it? I expect I'll be blogging about my re-introduction to sewing over the next decade or two.
I did manage to "create" (yuh, ok, I'll use that word) a napkin! That really only required pressing the sides and corners of a square piece of fabric, then stitching around the edges. I did it, and of course the stitches were crooked and the thread knotted up at the end, but I don't care damn it.
During the sewing of this napkin, the thread became tangled in a knot in the sewing machine. Something about adjusting the tension or whatever...when you throw words around like "tension" in an activity that I'm supposed to enjoy, I get nervous. This is supposed to be a hobby that will relax me? I wish me good luck with that one.
So anyway, back to my knot. My normal reaction would have been this: "Damn it! F*&% it! F*&%#~g piece of shit (I only censored that because my mom sometimes reads my blog and she hates it when I use the f word...hmmmm, 41 and I'm worried about what my mom thinks...I am a freak)," followed by my hands going to my head, rubbing the 3 inch creases that already exists in my forehead, banging my fist on the table, then vowing never to touch this piece of crap machine again. That would have been my normal response (pre relaxtion therapy and stuff), and I probably would not have ever wanted to sew again.
But (I know you aren't technically supposed to start a sentence with the word "but," but it's my blog so I will if I want), I oddly enough, didn't give up. Oh, I used that "f" word a couple of times, but I simply said to myself that it is only thread. String in a knot isn't going to kill me. It won't even try to choke me, spit on me, slit my tires, poison my dinner, make me watch a dance recital, etc. It's just string and I can re-thread the machine if needed.
Wow. Who was that talking and when did logic and calmness replace my normal chicken little reactions? I was so impressed with my lack of hysteria and mauling of the sewing machine that I was able to re-thread, and finish my lovely blue napkin.
Skirt next? Let's not go batty. I only survived knotted thread people, not 4 days at the bottom of a canyon with a broken leg, and I still don't know how long the new "tranquil-it's-not-the-end-of-the-world" me will last and I don't want to push it. No, I think I'll try another napkin first. Actually, my new sewing machine has 70 different stitches, so I think I'll make 70 napkins, each with a different stitch. There should be no question what everyone will be receiving for Christmas next year, right?