Soul Thumping

It's Just Yarn, After All

"Good God, you freak, it's just yarn.  Yarn cannot kill you.  That ball of purple isn't going to wrap itself around your throat.  It cannot bite or pinch you.  Hell, it doesn't have hands.  It doesn't have teeth.  Yarn can't even criticize this thing you are trying to knit.  For the love of sanity, take a deep breath!"

This is the sales pitch I repeated to myself over and over Wednesday evening, while trying to use my circular knitting needles for the very first time, and it actually worked.

As you can see (or hear), anxiety rears its ugly little beak when I try something new.  My knitting has been limited to straight knits and purls and frankly, I'm over scarves and washcloths.  Time to move on and try

Photo source: anniescatalog.com

something new:  A hat...using circular needles.  Poseidon gifted me with a set last year for Christmas, so time to bust them out before Christmas this year.

I found a simple hat pattern on Ravlery (of course), dropped by the yarn store in my neighborhood for some yarn, and asked for a quick demonstration on knitting in the round.  The knitting guru in the shop was more than happy to show me and she told me to stop by with my hat project if I needed any help.

After casting on, I was ready to start the first round, in the round, but I couldn't get it, cue the stress monster.  I watched and re-watched a YouTube video on knitting in the round, but I found the videos less than helpful.  I was searching my hands for hives because I fully expected to be breaking out in a stress rash.  None.  I repeated the opening sentence of this blog over and over until I decided I was safe.  The yarn I bought wasn't cheap, but it wasn't going to eat me.

I switched to a cheap ball of yarn from my knitting bag and I took charge.  I practiced until I got it, realizing I would not be dying at the hands of my yarn.  Undoing and restarting 8 times isn't going to hurt anyone, EVER.  Cheap yarn, it turns out, is quite submissive...and forgiving.

Time to Hit the Reset Button, and Hard!

I've been cranky and downright mean lately (throw in harsh, for grins) and it's disturbing.  I was overly frustrated with a friend, and I was monstrous to her, and she really needed my support.  I don't have an explanation for it, and I don't want to start a conversation of substance with myself because it will only bring me down, so today, on this beautiful Friday, I'm simply pressing the reset button.

There.  Done.

  (photo source:  http://www.joystiq.com)

The Anxious Runner Report - Running Sick

Waking up with a sore throat on Thursday was not a good sign for the weekend.  I went to work, ignoring the throat, because I had a presentation to give Thursday afternoon.  I fumbled through it, finished up some outstanding stuff, and drove home feeling as though I'd been hit by a truck (or at least a Fiat).  By Thursday night, I was officially sick--I blame it on the nightmare karaoke couple sitting behind us at the Tori Amos concert the night before.

I took Friday off from work, staying in bed all day, and Saturday.  Being 'inactive' for that long is  not something I handle well.  I succumb to restlessnes and I fidget.  Oh, and I can be cranky.  Very cranky.  Yesterday morning, Poseidon took me to the doctor because I wasn't feeling much better.  Fortunately, the flu was ruled out, just a common cold that has to run its course.  The doctor told me to take Monday off and rest the entire day.  On Sunday afternoon, Poseidon was on his way out to the gym while I was watching reruns of Will & Grace from my sick bed and I wanted to wrap my arms around his ankles and beg, "Take me with you!"  I was good.  I stayed in bed.  I wanted to jump on a treadmill.

Today, I stayed home (actually doing what my doctor suggested), but I couldn't take lying on the sofa binge-watching Designing Women.  I decided I must go for a walk for my own sanity.  I laced up and realized it was

No Crocs :)

going to be hard for me to walk because I really wanted to run but I knew my doctor would frown on running.  Running does not equal rest.  I actually considered wearing my pink Mary Jane Crocs on my walk to keep me from running, but talked myself out of it.  I promised I wouldn't run.

I walked to the lake, and started loop number 1.  I passed several runners and grew anxious, and I wanted to wrap my arms around their ankles and beg, "Take me with you!"  I didn't.  I started loop number 2.  I picked up the pace a little, and I grew even more anxious because I just knew I was going to take off running.  But, I didn't!  I walked (and I'm not just saying this because Poseidon will read it...I really did walk).

Back home, and not too tired, and satisfied with a 5 mile walk.  Anxiety gone.  Now, back to my sick bed and binging on Designing Women.

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The Anxious Runner Report

I bought a ridiculously overpriced girly running skort last summer as a "reward" for having survived neck surgery (survival apparently wasn't enough, I needed a pressie, damn it).  The reward wasn't actually for surviving the surgery, it was for surviving the 3 months post-surgery with no exercise.  I was allowed to walk, but no running or gym visits for 3 months.  I did what I was told and followed every command given to me by my neurosurgeon.  I didn't think I would ever run again.

Before my first run, I was consumed with irrational worry.  Creepy thoughts like, "What if I go for a run, and I trip, and land on my head, and the screws in my neck get all wonky?"  Seriously, looking at the x-ray of my neck, after the surgery, made me feel strange and anxious, like I now have to take care of this piece of plastic holding my C5 and C6 together.  It could come undone, work its way loose.  My head could fall off!  Snap like a twig.

 My hysteria wore off when I took my first run.  It was a little baby trip.  Half of a lap around the lake, just over a mile.  The next trip was a full lap around the lake, 2.5 miles.  I've said it before, I don't run fast, and I don't run far.  My form isn't pretty, but it's consistent.

Six months after my surgery, I ran my first race, a 4-miler (4 on the Fourth, July 4th).  In October, I ran my first 10K.  On Thanksgiving morning, I ran an 8K.  During the long-ass winter this year, I ran 3 days each week at the gym on the treadmill, a minimum of 4 miles, at a steady pace.  Two weeks ago, I ran a 5K with a friend, my first race since November.

Yesterday, on a fantabulous spring Sunday morning, in that overpriced girly running skort (which is now a size too big), I ran the best run of my life.  5 miles, two laps around the lake.  It wasn't my longest distance or my best time, but I was my most steady and confident, post-surgery, and it was perfect.

--Amphitrite

endorphins are the star player in knocking the wind out of anxiety and depression. - See more at: http://www.soulthumpingblog.com/soul_thumping_blog/anxiety-and-depression/page/2/#sthash.kk32O8J5.dpuf"

I Lied to my Husband...About my Favorite Color

Yellow.  When I was five, I felt some imagined pressure to choose a favorite color.  My sister liked red and my little brother liked blue.  I had to like something different, right?  I mean, I couldn't copy my twin sister.  I couldn't copy my brother.  I picked yellow because my reading book at school had a picture of a big yellow balloon on the cover.  It was in my head.  The big yellow balloon.

Yellow has always been my go-to color.  "What's your favorite color?"  "Yellow."  Always my answer.  I don't even like yellow.

Somewhere down the road, I must have given that vanilla answer to Poseidon, because he recently mentioned my favorite color being yellow and all, and I told him I hate yellow.  He was appalled.  How could I lie to him about my favorite color?  I tried explaining that it wasn't really a lie.  Declaring yellow as my favorite color was a by default situation, and now it's simply a habit I'm unwilling or unable to break, and not a lie.

"Yellow was in trouble, even then." - Ken Nordine

 

 

 

--Amphitrite

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This sun bunny is quite sad to have to wave goodbye to summer again, but this past Sunday (9/22/13), was a gorgeous day, the first day of fall, AND, I wore a sweater for the first time.  I'll miss summer, but the fall is already proving to be lovely!

Amphitrite

 

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I Love the Sun, and the Sun Loves Me.

Should Poseidon be worried that I'm carrying on an emotional affair?  An emotional affair with the sun?

Two weekends ago was my first trip to the beach this year.  The very second my toes touched the sand, I felt every muscle in my body relax.  I opened the lounge chair and spread out my beach towel.  I sank down into that chair, pulled my hair out of my face, and sighed until there was no breath left in me.  I felt the sun on my skin, and I said quietly, "Hello Sun.  I've missed you, buddy."

It is hard to describe (and believe me, I have tried) my love of the sun and all things warm.  I don't like the cold.  I mean, I don't mind snow and watching it fall, but I don't like cold temperatures.  The cold penetrates my bones, and it hurts, in a strange way.  Cold messes with my psyche, which is fragile enough as is.

Our beach trip was a short trip, but I spent enough alone time with Sun to make me a happy girl.  I don't bother hiding my emotional affair with Sun from Poseidon.  I even shared with him a picture of Sun and I, a picture I drew two days after our return from the beach.  Poseidon is ok with this affair.  OK with it, as long as I use protection.

--Amphitrite

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A Recovering Perfectionist Learns to Knit without Breaking Out in Hives

I'm a recovering perfectionist.  My recovery includes allowing myself to try new things without having to be an immediate whiz kid, so, on a whim, I took an introductory knitting class.  Go me!  I'm not sure why I chose knitting, other than it is a hobby less solitary than sewing, and I can hang out with Poseidon and watch a movie while knitting.  I can't quite do that with the sewing machine.

Anyway, I enjoyed the knitting classes (2 classes total...an accelerated introduction, to say the least).  We learned the knit stitch, the purl stitch, casting on, and binding off, so our instructor told us to consider ourselves "advanced beginners."  We also learned how to read a knitting pattern, how to buy yarn, types of needles, resources for help, etc.  My brain is sufficiently stuffed with knitting knowledge.

I've just completed my first project:  A cotton washcloth.  Well, I'm very nearly finished.  Tonight I will bind off, and stare open-mouthed at my accomplishment with a celebratory beer.  I'm so pleased with my progress (and that is what counts...as the well-grounded know, outside validation isn't going to fill in any emotional holes).

My washcloth isn't pretty.  It's full of dropped stitches, me forgetting if I'm knitting or purling, and goofs too silly to fake, but I did it without breaking out in hives, punching myself in the face, or taking out Poseidon's left eye (or his right eye), and yesterday, I had the audacity to purchase yarn for my next washcloth.

My first knitting project: My beautiful lopsided washcloth!

 

 

--Amphitrite

 

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I Want Catherine Deneuve Hair...or an Iguana

It's that time again.  Summer haircut decision.  I have my appointment at 5:30 this evening.  I

Source: http://indulgy.com/post/I2NZV1vM81/catherine-deneuve-is-wearing-a-white-and-polkado

 

 know, it's a first world problem, but to me, it is a problem, what with my anxiety over haircuts and all.

I've been growing it out, and because I like being able to braid again, I think I'll keep the length,  and have my bangs trimmed.  I don't know what to do about the color.  As I type this, I'm thinking, "No one really gives two milkshakes about my hair," but I do, so it helps to talk (type) it  out.  I just want to wake up with Catherine Deneuve hair tomorrow morning.

Simple and manageable has been my mantra for today, so I think I'll apply that to the haircut decision as well.  This time.  My fall haircut will be a bit edgier.  Something like this (only I imagine this looks better on a dude than on me):

 

Source: http://llsafirall.blogspot.com/2012/12/haircuts-original-styles.html

Wish me well, please.

--Amphitrite

 

 

 

Can a Sewing Machine Actually Eat Me? - Curious Fear of Sewing

No, it cannot.  However, this does not alleviate the trepidation I feel when I look at my sewing machine.  Tis the bête noire of the house.

Some may recall, from a series of blog posts I did in 2010, the ridiculous anxiety I was feeling when I decided to buy a sewing machine and start making some stuff after not having touched a sewing machine since the 7th grade.  Well, I was doing great for a while, then there was lull in my sewing, then I would pick it up once more, then another hiatus, and because, to quote Dorothy Parker again (because I must), "They sicken of the calm who know the storm," I'm once again trying to palsy walsy up to that machine.  I expect any day Poseidon will be forming a search party, and only my bone fragments will be found.  In the dining room.  Next to my sewing machine's presser foot.

Source: natalie dee http://www.nataliedee.com/archives/2009/jul/

Sure he (in my head, this machine is a he) looks all innocent, like a kid on the playground who wants me to come and play, but is too shy to ask, but I'm not buying it.  Looks can be deceiving, because I know this machine is profoundly manipulative, giving me side-eyed glances, waiting for me to sit down, get comfortable and start sewing only so he can hurl caustic remarks in my ear about how my skirt is going to look like a shower curtain gone bad.

 

Monday, I sat down and stared at the bully for a few minutes.  I thought we might make nice if I were to practice threading and winding a bobbin for a few minutes.  Oh, my sewing machine could sense my fear, but I'm loath to give the monster any power of me.  I'm no crafter, and my taking up sewing again was supposed to be a new "hobby."  I think I'll be safer taking up target practice, with me being the target.  Is that so wrong?  Would that make me totally out of my therapeutically reconstructed mind?

 

--Amphitrite

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