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Metal Boogers

Apologies for the title of this post (as well as for the tardiness of said post), but it will make sense in a minute.

So, today, finally, after procrastinating for six long years, I got my nose and ears re-pierced.  I had them done 12 years (nose) and, ahem, 29 years (ears) ago, but had to remove them all in 2010 when I was in hospital.  Because I was in there for so long and then recovering for a full year, I had to let all the piercings close up.  Which was a pain, but not the most pressing issue on my agenda.

I wanted to get them done again.  I didn’t feel “me” without my nose stud and not having earrings was also a weird feeling.  So, today, after thinking about it for a long time, I went and got it done.  Like a boss.  I was nervous – I am not very brave – and did warn the lovely Bree (my piercer) that I am a fainter.  But she was so nice and kind and professional and took the utmost care with me.  No rushing, no pressure to choose jewellery, no looking down on me for being a 40-something old chook who wanted something dainty and non-dramatic.  Having your nose pierced is dramatic enough for most people.

Anyway, did it hurt?  Well, yes, but not as bad you might think.  I don’t know why I was even worried.  It’s painful, but nowhere near as bad as having, say, a vaccination.  It’s over and done with in seconds.  I kept telling myself beforehand “You’ve had thousands of injections.  You’ve had a renal biopsy.  You’ve had a breast reduction.  You can do this…”  And indeed I could.  And did.

My cousin came with me as moral support (she was supposed to her nose done too but chickened out – that’s ok, I don’t think it was the right time for her) and said I was super brave and didn’t flinch at all (although, I think flinching would be a little bit dumb considering someone is pushing metal through parts of your body at the time).  I didn’t even get woozy, which is what I thought would happen.  I didn’t even bleed (when I got my nose pierced previously, it bled LIKE A STUCK PIG).

I chose dainty little silver (titanium) balls for my ears and a slightly blingier diamante stud for my nose.  Swarovski crystal doncha know!  It was all a tad expensive, but at the end of the day I got the best service, best-quality jewellery and excellent aftercare.  I would rather not skimp on any of those things.

Now for the less exciting part – the aftercare.  Lots of “being careful” and not touching the piercings and making sure I use the saline spray stuff to keep them clean.  The hardest part is the whole not-touching thing.  I am a fiddler so remembering not to touch the earrings in particular is going to be hard.

Anyway, it’s all done now.  I hope they heal up well and don’t have any issues or infections.  I haven’t done before but you never know…  Hopefully my little metal booger will behave and not get all crusty and gross (sorry, but it happens in the healing stage sometimes).

So, today I am feeling glad that I was brave and got through it all and didn’t embarrass myself by fainting or throwing up or squealing or crying ha ha.  Not bad for this old thing who isn’t very brave at the best of times 🙂

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Smudges and Peeps and New Starts

A few more cards made over the weekend.  I stopped once I started getting “smudgy” (see last card) and making boob-boos.  In the the first card, you’ll see the little lady has “proper” arms instead of my usual stick arms.  This is because I totally screwed them up when drawing them and, too lazy to start over, needed to fix the problem.  So I cut out proper solid arms and covered over the dicky drawn ones.  So, by default, she is a plumper version of my normal Little Peeps.  I should probably resolve to do all my arms this way – it might actually result in less swearing.

Day three of my new diet and exercise regime.  I would say it is going so-so.  I had a bit of naughty moment today where I scoffed a load of chocolate.  Which is bad because a.) it is fattening, b.) I’m not supposed to eat chocolate anyway because of my kidneys, and c.) it was for other people (ie Easter gifts).  So today was a bit of a fail.  I did, however go for a long walk and did some weights afterwards so I don’t completely hate myself.  And I kinda enjoyed it for once.  One day at a time… I’m trying not to beat myself up too much about making mistakes and falling off the wagon.  I started the dreaded therapy again last night so I am committing to being kinder to myself and just being a little less obsessed about dumb stuff (like my weight and appearance).  Which is difficult when you’ve always been obsessed by that same dumb stuff and have let it rule your life.

A couple of friends at work today said I always make them feel better and know what to say when they are feeling down.  So I am trying to be that person for myself too.  I think that’s important.  I’ve been my own worst enemy for too long.

Hope you’ve had a good day today – thank you for stopping by 🙂

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Procrastination, I am Your Queen

Procrastination, I am Your Queen

I wasted today.  Which is better than saying “I AM wasted today”, I suppose.  However, it is still bad.  I am too old to be wasting time.  Frittering it away.  Getting distracted (in fact, as an example, I am now thinking about fritters).  Doing nothing when I should be doing something.  Or, doing something but it is a something that is basically nothing in the guise of something, you know?  Come Sunday evening, I am wracked with the guilt of procrastination and time wasted.

I promised myself I would ACHIEVE this weekend.  I would write lists and tick them off.  But all I succeeded in doing was ticking myself off with my inability to actually do anything.  The worst part is, I didn’t sit around much at all.  I am not a sitter.  I am always very busy.  VERY busy.  Doing nothing much at all.

I usually find I become very motivated, around about 4 o’clock in the afternoon on a Sunday, when I suddenly realise that I have to go back to work tomorrow and I have had two days off where I could have, y’know, started that best-selling novel, created a Fortune-500 company, built a house or ended third world debt.  I have high hopes for my weekends, but they often don’t pan out.  Basically, because I myself fizzle out.

Now, I must admit, I am having trouble dealing with anything at the moment.  I am weaning myself off my anti-depressants and I am finding it harder than I thought I would.  Harder than I have let anyone around me know. I thought “Oh, it’s been two and a half years, I can come off them now! Piece of cake!”  but it’s been a little trickier than that.  And there was no cake.  But, there’s been crying.  Lots of crying.  I’ve done that super ugly, blubbering kind of crying.  I’ve yelled at people.  I’ve had nightmares.  I’ve been hyper and chatty one minute and then morose and downright jump-off-a-cliff depressed the next.  But I persevere because I have to do it and I don’t want to be on this medication forever.  And before you ask, yes this is being medically supervised and I am being sensible.  It’s just that I am 41 years old and I need to be able to manage things and not hide behind a little happy pill.  Plus, I need to cry every now and then.  It’s a natural state for me and NOT doing it is weird.  I just needed them to get me over the marriage-breaking-down hump and now I have to come back into the real world again.

Which has left me a little bit blue.  Because the real world is a bit shit, to be honest.  Pardon my language.  People are mean and stuff is hard.  So I get bogged down in the mean and the hard.  I find it difficult to get up in the mornings, not just because I don’t want to go to work, but because I am actually sad.  Mostly because I don’t want to go to work but also because I am floundering a little bit.  I’m going through one of those “Who am I and what am I for?” stages.  Which I probably should have gone through at age 18 or something but I was too busy being terrified of the world to even contemplate that I had some sort of place in it.  In some ways, it is worse going through it now because I have less time to figure things out.

Which brings me back to wasting time.  Some people are happy to waste time and don’t see it as actually WASTING TIME.  People think the weekends are for chilling out and lazing about, watching TV and sitting around.  I don’t.  I always feel like I should be doing something constructive or at least making plans that would lead in that direction.  More lists.  Lists that will have ticks against them.  So that when people ask (on Monday morning) “Hey, what did you get up to on the weekend?”, I can say, smugly, “Oh, I rendered the house, put in reticulation, baked 400 muffins for the local homeless shelter, adopted a litter of kittens, ran a marathon, painted my fence and knitted a tea cosy……” instead of answering “Um…not much.  I did some ironing.”  And let’s face it, even ironing is probably not happening in my house most weeks.  Or months, to be fair.  Do I even HAVE an iron?….

I wanted to create things this weekend.  I wanted to have lots of blog posts ready and waiting to be written.  I wanted to have projects on the go.  I wanted to actually have some crafts on here, which would be nice, considering this is supposed to be a crafty kind of blog.

So, what did I achieve this weekend?  Well, I caught up with my best friend, whom I haven’t seen since JULY (holy crap, that is three months ago!) and we set the world to rights and talked up a storm.  I visited my Aunt.  I visited my cousin and nieces.  I went shopping for new bras (to go with the new boobs).  I bought a pineapple/green apple/broccoli/mint drink which was SO DELICIOUS I bought another one today.  I saw a movie with a friend and felt confused by it.  I felt horribly guilty for saying no to said friend when she asked me to dog-sit for her over Christmas.  I went to see my Mum.  I pruned my garden and all the courtyards around my house, weeded and swept up leaves and junk in my yard.  I dyed my hair so I no longer look like rapidly-ageing hag woman.  I went to a little charity fete in my street and bought some more books.  I tried eye-liner for the first time and decided I quite liked it.

So I did SOME things.  I guess.  And seeing friends and family is certainly not NOTHING.  It’s actually very important. And nice. And soul-reparing.  But now it is evening and I have to make dinner and get stuff ready for work tomorrow. But I wanted to make cards.  That didn’t happen.  I wanted to do some drawing.  That didn’t happen.  I wanted to tidy my craft room.  That certainly didn’t happen and, frankly, I was kidding myself that it would.  I wanted to write in my journal and finish off a collage I have been working on (well, “working on” is an overstatement…). None of those things occurred.

So, I guess I have to try again next weekend.  I will write proper lists and endeavour to stick them (and not lose them).  I will not be distracted by whatever it is that normally distracts me (usually involves tea or facebook or cheese) and I will achieve THINGS.  Or, at least try to.  Because time is running out.  And I do not want to leave just a carbon footprint behind.  I want to have been here for some sort of reason and purpose.  Even if that purpose amounts to nothing more than writing a blog post on schedule, with actual useful stuff in it.

What do you hope to achieve on your weekends?  Are you a procrastinator?  Do you get distracted by things and wander off target, like me?  Do you even have a target?  How do you stay on target (if you do)?  How do you gauge your achievements or do you simply think it’s enough to have gotten dressed every day?

Hope your weekend was exactly as you wanted it to be – busy, lazy, crazy, chilled or fulfilling, whatever makes you feel happy and content and not guilty 🙂

Onwards and Upwards (or, The Fight Against the Downward Spiral)

Onwards and Upwards (or, The Fight Against the Downward Spiral)

I have had a rough couple of years.  Actually make that three years.  Then add on a decade or two.  Whilst being blessed with an amazing (albeit slightly insane) family and the most wonderful and loyal friends imaginable, I have always had trouble being happy.  To tell the truth, I don’t really know what happiness feels like, which is very sad and quite the annoying little conundrum.  This unhappiness is not due to a terrible upbringing (mine was normal and loving and safe) or a precarious political or economic climate (Australia – it’s pretty chilled).  I wasn’t born deformed, I don’t have a speech impediment or a brain disfunction (well…not a diagnosed one anyway) and I didn’t grow up in a cult (although I did love Bros in my teens and probably would have given up my life for them if they asked.  Which they didn’t.  Probably a good thing in retrospect).  We weren’t rich but we had enough – I never went hungry, I never went to sleep at night not knowing where I would sleep the next – I wasn’t picked on in school (well, no more than anyone else) and I wasn’t abused or neglected by my parents.

So why so glum, chum? You may well ask (or not – you probably have your own problems) as you try to see what the heck I have to complain about and make me so sad.  The answer is SELF ESTEEM, or, rather, the lack of it.  I never had any.  I don’t know where to get it.  I don’t know how to hang on to it once you have it.  I don’t know what it feels like and how you know you have it when you get it.  It’s a complete mystery to me.  Just like I will never wake up one morning knowing anything about physics or chemistry, I am also unlikely to wake up feeling good about myself.  

I often think it is a gene that I just didn’t inherit.  Some people get long legs or red hair or a big nose – I got low self esteem.  So low as to be nonexistent or at least very very hard to locate.  I do not possess the ability to say good things about myself or think them or accept nice words and compliments from other people.  I don’t know why, but I am trying to do something about it.

Counselling.  Sigh.  I have gone down this route before and it has helped some but I don’t think I really gave it my best and proper attention.  I think I did a lot of eye-rolling and agreeing with whatever the counsellor said.  I think I zoned out constantly.  I cried (a lot) and deflected ( a lot).  I didn’t use the time wisely.  Which is dumb but also a direct result of having low self esteem (don’t deserve help, don’t accept it and work with it).  But I am going to try it again.  I have to.  Next year I will be 40 and that scares me.  Not the age but the fact that I am the same person I was when I was 4 and 14 and 24.  Scared and sad and hating myself.  Which is a crummy way to be.  And now it is directly affecting my relationships and my marriage and my life in general.  And that’s not cool.  It’s time to put a stop to it

So, I am about to start down the counselling path once more.  I don’t look forward to it but I have to go there and make the effort and make myself a better me.  Not just for me, but for those around me that have been affected by my self-doubt and unhappiness.  Maybe one day soon I will be able to look in the mirror and say “You know what?  You’re ok kid!”  

I promise not to drag you down the mental health street.  It is littered with whining and complaining and excuse-making.  It’s not a great place to visit and you have no need to go there with me.  I am writing this because I need to make a statement to myself and kinda have it witnessed.  I am going to try my very best to get better.  No.  I am going to get better.  At liking myself, at being myself and at forgiving and accepting myself. And possibly at ironing because I am RUBBISH at ironing 🙂

Thanks for indulging me.  This has nothing to do with craft or cooking or anything even remotely arty or thrifty or creative.  It’s just about me.  And that me needs to change, for my sake and the sake of the people around me.

So here’s to a new me.  By this time next year I may be so big-headed that I go around wearing a t-shirt that says “I am awesome!” and actually believing it.  It seems unlikely (and possibly not really what I’m aiming for here) so I will settle for a little inner voice that tells me I’m alright and can achieve anything and have a right to be here.  That’ll do.

 

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