Project Life 2012 Supplies...

As I showed yesterday, I am doing Project Life in 2012.  I was super excited that the kit I ordered has  nearly everything I need for the endeavor.  One of the reasons I love Project Life, though, is that I can embellish my pages as much or as little as I want.  The kit gives me the foundation, and then I get to get creative and put my own mark on it.  In addition to the Cobalt kit, here are a few supplies I've been gathering over the past month. *Sorry for the glare - my craft room needs better lighting!

Journaling cards from Amazon.com. 

These Karen Russel Narratives stickers from Hobby Lobby.  Love these.

Making Memories Word Fetti Stickers (family)

Also from Michael's.

K&Company Embossed Life's Journey Words & Sayings from Michael's.

American Crafts remarks stickers in white (getty)

Binder Clips with the months on them from Office Depot.

Office Depot had these on Clearance for $1.  Thought they might come in handy.

Tiny Attacher Tim Holtz from Hobby Lobby.

So these are the products I'm going to use.  Hopefully that will get me through at least half the year and if I start to run out or get bored I can always get some more in the summer.  We have three major craft stores in Cheyenne, but I tend to get discouraged by the types of supplies they have.  I have a hard time finding embellishments to fit my taste.  I do shop online a little, mostly from Amazon, but it's hard for me to judge size and color from the computer screen.  It's more fun to pick stuff out in person.  I may see what Ft. Collins has to offer next time I am down there.  

Tomorrow I will show you my craft area set-up and show you how I've organized my materials for Project Life!

Project Life 2012...

I've seen lots of bloggers post about Becky Higgins' Project Life for some time now, but it wasn't until late 2011 that I really took a look around her website to see what it was all about.  To keep you up to speed if you don't know what it is, it's basically a system she has set up with kits to help people collect photos and memories through the year.  The kit is set up to capture one photo and journal about it each day of the year, but it's very versatile and I've seen all sorts of formats pop up in the blogosphere.  It's a look at the moments of our lives that usually aren't scrapped.  We tend to scrapbook the big events - birthdays, holidays, vacations.  Project Life captures the basics of our lives.  

This is my kit.  I loved the colors of the Cobalt design, and once it arrived I was NOT disappointed. 

Let me just say, the kit smells SO good - like the smell of new books in the bookstore.

  
Project Life appeals to me for several reasons. 

• As noted, the project is customizable to individual needs.  I will be looking at doing a weekly format instead of a daily format.   I know I will never keep up if I am stressed out about finding something to document every day.  Enough happens in our week that I can document some decent day to day memories.  
• I turned 30 this year, so this is a great way to document the start of a new decade for me.  It will also be documentation of my marriage, my 2 furry babies, and who knows what else.  I'm excited to see what comes up for me when I reflect on this project at the end of 2012.  Even though Kyle and I don't have kids, I definitely want to remember the daily routine and way of living so I can have it to look back on years from now. 
• My medications have the unfortunate side effect of inhibiting my creativity.  This kit comes with coordinating materials. In addition, I bought the protective photo sleeves that go with it.  All I have to do is slide the photos into the pockets and use the included journaling cards to document memories, thoughts, places, names, or anything else.  I can add as much embellishment as I want, or leave the layout with just the materials from the kit.  This takes a great deal of stress off of me, as I don't have to try to coordinate or decide on layouts.  The beauty is, there are lots of different layouts for the sleeves, so I'm not confined to the same layout throughout the year.
• It's a very organized process which, for me, is essential.  I am still fine tuning my set-up in my craft room and folders on my computer for storage of photos to print.  I will share that at a later date.  

So that's why I'll be diving into Project Life 2012.  I'm pretty excited and a little bit hopeful that this project will jumpstart my creativity and get me motivated to do more crafting. 

Tomorrow I will share photos of the awesome supplies I've gathered up for this project. 

A Little Update...

Dear Reader, I have not been so great at updating my blog lately, but I vow to do better.  I have a million and one excuses for my recent absence but it all boils down to lack of motivation and preoccupation with other items on my plate.  Here is a brief list of updates.  I will be elaborating more on each of these points in future blogs. 

• I'm jumping on the 2012 Project Life bandwagon to document a year in our life.  I'll be using the Cobalt kit. 
• I switched to a new psychiatrist to try to find a better treatment for the bipolar disorder.  New Doc assures me we WILL find the magic cocktail that will treat it and the connected issues, but he suggests it may take 1 to 2 years.  This means more med changes are ahead for me.  Some of these will be very difficult transitions, as some meds I am on have awful withdrawal symptoms.  I shall try to be a patient patient and remain open-minded.  I will be attempting to document this process as best I am able.
•  I will finally get some pictures of our home up to show the new floors, picture walls and paint.  This will be sometime after I get the holiday decor down. 
• I still need to do a post to wrap up my 30 before 30 AND create my 40 before 40 list. 

I'm struggling with depression big time as this year wraps up, and trying to keep my chin up and eyes on the absolutely wonderful gifts life shows to me daily.  I really have no reason to be depressed, as life is not too shabby.  That's the nature of the illness, though - it can really beat me down, even when I have little to complain about.  Those are the hardest times for me.  I could rant and rave about how crummy life is if I was handed horrible experiences.  It's hard to understand where depression comes from when I have much to be grateful for.  It's a reminder to me how unreliable this illness is, and how important it is to have my support network of doctors, therapists, family and friends, because my world can turn upside down with relatively little reason.  I don't mean to complain, but rather paint the realistic picture of what life is like with a mood disorder.  More on all of this as we begin 2012.  Have a fabulous last week of 2011 and may your New Year be the best yet!

My Cup Runneth Over...

My heart is full and I'm experiencing immense gratitude for so many of the comforts in my life.  Three things top that long list though.  

This little squirt...

This little punk...

And this fellow, who clearly can't stand dogs.  Apparently, they can't tolerate him, either.  They fall into instant comas when he comes home from work. 

You can see I have it pretty tough around here.  There's clearly no love, no relaxing, no peace of mind.  Yup, I'm pretty darn fortunate.  Most importantly, though, is that I know I am.  And I bet you are, too. 


Happy Thanksgiving.  My heart is full.

Compulsive Spending Part IV: A Solution

I do not find it easy to ask for help.  I think I've told the story here on the blog about how I had to be blind-folded for a week while in treatment in Texas.  The purpose was to teach me to ask for help.  I struggle with this as much as ever, but I am seeing how important it is to have a support system in my life's journey.  Most incredibly, a loving spouse who never fails to show his support.

Coming clean to Kyle was the first step in finding a resolution.  He knew we were struggling to pay the bills, and he knew I was not doing great at managing our money, but out of respect for me and trust in me, and maybe due to a smidge of denial on his part, he didn't inspect our budget or checkbook or in any way hold me accountable (even though I had asked, and asked...and asked).  But as long as he kept his head in the sand, I could continue to get my "fix", so in some ways we were both comfortable in our discomfort.  

I've become too exhausted - emotionally and physically - to continue to play this money game.  The amount of mental energy to keep it all planned and executed, and then find ways to make up for it, pay the bills and still have money to eat, is all more than I can handle. 

I wholeheartedly believe that marriage is a sacred partnership.  As such, I believe it is essential for both partners to be aware of the important matters - finances, especially, considering how many divorces occur over money issues.  Exasperated, I told Kyle that we have to get on the same page.  He was feeling the same way.  I told him "I need your support to hold me accountable with money.  I need you to know what the bills are and how much and how to pay them.  It's just common sense.  Both of us should know where we stand.  If anything comes up, you need to know what I know so you can pay bills."  Even if I hadn't misspent, we should have been doing that all along.
 

And he said, "Ok".  We worked out a plan, with the help and support of my therapist.  

• All credit cards are cut up.  As each is paid off, it is to be closed.  Yes, I know this hurts our credit score, but I'm willing to risk that in order not to have the temptation. 
• We registered for Dave Ramsey's Financial Peace University, which I am really excited about.  Many friends have taken this course and it has changed their lives.  Ramsey's course will teach us much we don't know - how to stick to a budget, build up savings accounts, and even retirement accounts.  (As a side note, remember how my word for 2011 is "peace"?  I trust this class will bring us much peace!). 
• I cut up my debit card.  This one hurt!  My debit card is my security blanket.  From now on I can only use cash and checks, and a lot fewer places are taking checks these days.  If I want cash, I have to go to the bank to get it, which I hate doing.  I do have a paypal account that has a debit card, so I can deposit my monthly "allowance" there, but it's not linked to checking so I can't pull out any more than I purposefully put in.  
• Kyle and I plan our menu and grocery shop together.  We shop from the list and if it's not on the list it doesn't go in the cart.   
• I don't go to stores "just to look". 
• I don't go to favorite stores anymore.  At all.  Period. 
• I wrote a list of every single bill we owe, the total amount owed, the monthly payment amount and any notes for each and Kyle and I went over it.  Full disclosure.  It was SO hard to do that!  Not that I wouldn't have shown him if he had asked...but I've already been through that.  Here it was, in black and white, where we stand and what I'd (and we'd) gotten us into.  While it was super tough to do, it was a huge relief to know that he knew the worst.  And still, he supports me.  And loves me.  Even when I least deserve it. 
• I drew up a budget (which I actually do quite well) and shared it with him.  Now we just have to stick with it (which I don' do quite so well). 
• We scheduled weekly meetings, in our day-timers, to sit down with one another, go over the week's expenses, balance our checkbook and see where we stand.  No more avoiding the truth. Communication is ESSENTIAL, and something we're both still working on improving. 

What a sense of relief I have with our new plan in place.  Not that it's going to be easy, and not that I (we) don't still have a lot of hard work to do.  I heard today something I had heard before but forgotten:  "The difference between a dream and a goal is having a plan and acting on that plan."  We have a plan, and we're acting on it.  I don't know how long it will take us to get out of debt, but I know we can do it and that in addition we can live a debt-free and abundant life.  

I must do some work on myself to find ways of feeling valued and important without a label on my clothes or a receipt in my pocket.  Kyle has to learn that holding me accountable and being responsible isn't the same as policing me or not trusting me.  Together, we have to use our skills and resources to develop the baby steps we need to take to keep us on track.   

We have a lot of growing up to do, but I'm thinking it can't possibly be as much work as all that compulsive spending was! 

Compulsive Spending Part III: Consequences

Compulsive spending brings out a part of me I don't like; a person I don't want to be.  The me I show to the world is responsible and pulled together.  Compulsive Me is fragmented and in internal chaos.  Compulsive Me is late for appointments because she had stop to look for the latest bargain.  She loses track of time in stores and realizes she has spent hours there and neglected her other responsibilities.  She makes me hate her and feel deep shame.

I lie by omission to Kyle, not telling him how bad it's become. This is the worst.  I once deemed myself trustworthy and I highly valued this character trait.  Now, because I handle the finances and he never asks, it becomes possible to hide the severity of my illness.  I go to treatment in Texas for six weeks, but nothing really changes when I come home.  He still doesn't look at the budget or the check register.  I don't have to cover anything up because he doesn't inquire.  A part of me is resentful that I am not getting any help from him on this, and I feel frustrated, alone, angry, sad, and mostly ashamed of how weak I have become.  Ashamed of the secrets.  Terrified of the loneliness.  And haunted by the financial impact that spending is having on my life. 


To my credit, I have a need to pay my bills on time and in full.  At least I am not using the mortgage money to buy new shoes.  It is the discretionary money I can't keep my hands off of.  Money set aside for groceries and fuel and other basics is at my disposal.  I resolve to spend only X amount of money, but within a week or two I've spent nearly all of it, with another week or two to go before the next paycheck would arrive.  The insurance check comes before the roof repair is complete.  When the bill finally comes, the money is long gone. 


In the midst of all this - when my spending was at its worst - I left full time employment because other aspects of my illness were getting so difficult to deal with.  I needed some time to get well.  While leaving work lessened my anxiety a great deal, it also left me feeling worthless, purposeless and once more, less than.  And as Kyle's job became increasingly demanding, stressful and wearing, my guilt mounted exponentially. 


What better way to deal with those feelings of low self-worth and guilt than to go on a little shopping run?  Gleeful in the moment of spending, all too soon came even more self-loathing.  How to tell my husband, who works sometimes up to 60 hours a week, that we don't even have the money for a tank of gas or a week's worth of groceries?  I burned with shame, yet not even that could diminish the drive I felt to spend, and I would soon be back in a store spending money I didn't have. 


In the interest of full disclosure, thus began the opening of several store credit accounts.  I currently pay on about 12 credit accounts each month to stores like TJ Maxx and Target.  I could easily be accumulating substantial savings, maintaining a dream vacation account for us, or paying off our mortgage faster.  However, I'm paying ridiculous interest rates on cards that I never should have opened.  The juggling act I do to ensure everything is paid in full every month and on time brings me sleepless nights.  Extreme stress, as a consequence of my spending, brings me new or more severe symptoms of bipolar disorder.  Yet, I continue to do it.  I keep spending.   


You might think that my house would look like an episode of Hoarders, with all these purchases.  Oddly enough, I have very little to show for all the money spent.  As I stated in yesterday's blog, I tend to donate often to Goodwill and post items to Freecycle.  I can't tell you where thousands of dollars went.  It is a complete reversal from where I was five years ago, when Kyle couldn't get me to buy a new book for myself.  Now I can't seem to stop the bleeding.  


I like to think every cloud - or in this case, every severe thunderstorm - has a silver lining.  

Check the blog tomorrow to find out how I am working to make compulsive spending part of my history rather than my today.

Compulsive Spending Part II: The Addictive Experience

I want to detail what a compulsive spending habit really looks like day to day.  At least, what it looks like for me.  It's often a symptom of bipolar disorder, but that doesn't show how it takes over life and drives people like me to make horrendous decisions when it comes to money management.  Compulsive spending crept into my life as soon as I couldn't eat for emotional reasons.  I began to spend for emotional reasons.  


It started out small.  I never go to expensive places and rarely buy expensive items -rather, I am thrilled with deals and bargains.  I spend a little here and a little there, and initially it felt inconsequential because it wasn't large amounts of money.

I'll refer to the compulsive spender as Compulsive Me.  When I can't sleep and I get the urge to spend, Compulsive Me mentally plots the next spending adventure and count the hours until the stores open.  I know the business hours of my favorite shops.  I  know who opens earliest and plan to visit them first.  By the time I am done there, the next store is open.  I have a route planned before I leave the house to determine which order to visit them in.  Even if I grow tired, I  have to "complete" the planned store visits.  Otherwise, I get intense anxiety and thoughts that won't go away. 

My sprees are structured and have routine; that is part of the exhilaration.  Why?  I'm not sure, other than it gives me a longed for sense of control in the midst of a very chaotic experience.  In my head, I list the stores I want to go to.  I methodically shop each store in a manner that is distinct for each.  For example, in store R, I shop clothes first, then housewares, then journals and stationery, then home decor, then shoes, then handbags, then cosmetics and health & beauty.  In store T, clothes, then cleaning, then home organization, then seasonal, then office and finally candy/snacks.  In M, handbags first, then health & beauty, then shoes, clothing, housewares, journals and stationery, and finally home decor.  I never deviate from this pattern, and if for some reason I must, my anxiety goes through the roof. 

Compulsive thoughts and actions appear in various ways.  Say I find a handbag I love (or at least, love in the moment).  It's likely going to come in a variety of colors or designs.  This is complicated for me.  Compulsive Me says, "You have to have one of each color in order to be complete."  "You can't just pick the black shoes.  What will you wear with your brown clothes?  Just get the brown shoes too." Completeness or a sense of wholeness is important for Compulsive Me.  Compulsive Me needs a "set" or else she gets highly agitated.   Otherwise it's not perfect.  And everything has to be perfect.  This might mean buying several items at once, or returning to the store again and again until Compulsive Me is content that we're done.  

But what if they run out?  What if they don't make any more?  What if I can't find them next time?  Fear drives about 99% of my spending craziness.  Logically, I can talk myself out of any of this.  Logically, I know that it doesn't matter if they never sell product X again - I'll find something to replace it.  But Compulsive Me feels that nothing will ever again be right if I don't have at least one or two backups.  (This is where some of that childhood deprivation works against me - I want to know I'm not going to run out of anything).  If I take the right action and walk out of the store empty handed, the battle isn't yet won.  I cannot let go of the nagging thought, "What if they run out?  What if they don't have anymore when you go back?"  And as silly as this all seems, this fear drives an anxiety that is unexplainable.  The thoughts nag at me like an abscessed tooth, throbbing and consuming.  I usually end up going back because I can't stand it anymore.  I just want to shut the thoughts up so I can get on with my life.   

Compulsive Me is a liar.  She tells me, "If you just buy this one handbag, that's it.  That's all you need and then you will not spend anymore money that you shouldn't spend."  She's fooled me many times with this line.  I buy her what she wants and she does pipe down, but usually only for a short time.  Sooner than later she's back wants more, demands more, and exhausts me with her neediness. 


Compulsive Me needles me.  "Just go look around the store.  You don't have to buy anything.  Just look around," or "Don't you need that gray nail polish you saw last week?  You really need that polish.  If you don't have that polish you won't feel complete.  You should treat yourself.  You deserve a little something, after all."  Compulsive Me knows all the right buttons to push.  She makes me think, "Yeah!  I do deserve this.  It's only nail polish, after all!"  But that's never all.  It's nail polish and pens and journals and handbags.  One is never enough and going to the store for one item usually ends up with me seeing two or three more.  It's a never-ending cycle.  

I am hardly doing justice to what compulsive spending really looks like.  It's physically and emotionally exhausting to spend so much energy figuring out how, when and where I will shop and then following through.  The payoff, though, is an incredible adrenaline rush just like a drug addict or an alcoholic experiences when he uses his drug of choice.  At first, it's the deal - the bargain - and that feeling that I got something, for me, at a discount.  I experience a "high", a euphoria. I'm quite accustomed to depression and how awful it feels, so anytime I experience the euphoria of shopping, it is extremely intoxicating and therefore part of why it is so addicting. I get a tingling sensation in my arms and hands.  I get a temporary reprieve from the obsessive thoughts and a complete sense of well-being in taking the items home and finding a place for them or organizing them.  

And then, most often, they are forgotten.  Before long I think, "What did I buy that for?" and it ends up in the yard sale or donate pile.  And like other addictions, it becomes necessary to get a "fix" more frequently than it used to.  It has become so consuming that it tarnishes many aspects of my life and begins to unharness multiple consequences.


Come back tomorrow for Part III of my compulsive spending series!

Compulsive Spending Part I: Birth of an Addiction

Box full of pens...most never used!

 It's quite difficult for me, as it is for most people, to talk about my problems, especially those that stem from my own character flaws.  Really, really hard.  For many people, there is much shame around our weaknesses.  I know that secrets feed shame and speaking about it can release us of that shame, so that's partly why I blog about my journey.  It's also important to me that people talk about how life really is when living with bipolar, depression or other mental illnesses to dispel the mysteriousness of mental illness that some people find frightening or just plain weird.  In light of all this, I want to share an in-depth look at my experience with compulsive spending over the past four years, despite how nauseous it makes me feel to put it all out there for everyone to read (and thus, judge me).

A few years ago, I knew nothing about compulsive spending but I was quite familiar with compulsive eating.  My gastric bypass in December of 2008 succeeded in helping me shed about 100 pounds.  I haven't kept off all the weight because I've reverted to some poor eating habits.  However, when I first had surgery and couldn't eat much at all, compulsive eating lost its ability to soothe me.  Something had to take its place - most addictions aren't shed but rather replaced by other addictions.  I began to enjoy shopping, especially clothes shopping. 

I cried in countless dressing rooms over the years.  I often shopped in the mens' department, which was even more demoralizing.  Post bypass, the sizes I owned became saggy and I quickly went through smaller sizes, and shopping became more appealing.  It didn't stop at clothes, though.  I enjoyed shopping for items I didn't need and often never used.

Like many people with bipolar disorder, I have co-occurring mental illnesses.  This means I have other conditions that also contribute to bipolar disorder or perhaps are a result of it.  One of these is obsessive compulsive disorder.  Many people think of OCD as an illness where one must flip the light switch on and off a certain number of times or enter a room a certain number of times, but again, I'm fortunate to have OCD that is much milder and impacts my life less severely.  The difficulty with multiple diagnoses is that it is harder to sort out which symptoms belong to which illness, and thus the best way to treat them.  Maybe it doesn't really matter which symptoms belong to which illness, but it is frustrating when treatment only helps some of my symptoms while other aspects of the illnesses greatly interfere in my life. 


Let's take compulsive spending, for example.  I don't know whether the spending stems from bipolar disorder or OCD, but it is a common occurrence for bipolar patients to have spending sprees and money management issues, often ruining lives and relationships.  A few years ago, I wouldn't have believed in the authenticity of compulsive spending as a true addiction.  I would have judged "compulsive spenders" as lacking self-restraint and discipline.  I would have labeled the "illness" as an excuse.  

One of the benefits of experiencing these illnesses is the lessons they teach me.  I've learned a great deal about making judgments and walking a mile in another's shoes. 


I have insight into where my spending habits come from.  I grew up in a lower middle class family and watched my family endure countless years of financial hardship.  I hoarded my allowance, saving nearly every dime.  I didn't ask for much and didn't need for much.  I had wants but mostly kept them to myself and I felt good about being thrifty.  I pretended not to care that my clothes were often bought second-hand or that I didn't wear the name brands that the other kids wore.  Deep down, though, the sense that I was "less than" and not "good enough" began to take shape.  I attempted to find other ways to prove myself, and I tried to be a perfect daughter, a perfect student, and to do anything I could not to be a burden on anyone.  



In college, I paid my own way most of the time and lived on student loans.  At times I had $20 to live on for the month, and I prided myself on living on so little.  I cherished my independence.  When I had to ask others for help, especially financial help, it crushed me and again I felt "less than."


Enter Kyle. 


The first time Kyle and I grocery shopped together he put  items into the cart without a second thought and I panicked because I couldn't keep track of what we spent.  Used to accounting for every penny, it was overwhelming to causually spend money.  In the early stages of our relationship and through the first year of marriage, I could hardly bring myself to spend money on anything that seemed frivolous or non-essential.  Kyle would encourage me to buy something for myself, but I seldom did.

Too soon, all that changed. 

Come back tomorrow for Part II of my compulsive spending series!

A Slump...

I am between psychiatrists right now and that is a bit scary for me.  After months of debating whether to stick with the doctor I had I finally made the decision to find a new one.  Dr. W. was really good for me in the beginning.  She seemed to be right on with med changes and I was encouraged to finally have a doctor who "got" me.  That was three years ago. 

In the last year, my appointments with her either left me feeling that she was still right on, or completely the opposite.  Sometimes I would visit her and she would seem to be completely up on what we've tried, where we're headed and what changes would be best.  Other times she seemed as unfamiliar with me as if it had been a year since I last saw her, even when it was only 2-3 weeks.  

Lately, though, I had a sneaking suspicion that she was pushing certain drugs on patients.  I have no proof of this other than my experiences in her office and some snippets of conversation overheard in the waiting room.  No matter what side effects I complained about, she would pass it off as something else or attribute it to a medication I had been successfully taking for months if not years.  

I recently started a medication that is commonly used for bipolar and schizophrenia.  I tend to have very bizarre reactions to medications.  Reactions that are so bizarre they are sometimes not even recognized as problems with the medication.  This time it was pretty obvious that it was the medication.  Weight gain and blood sugar issues, along with some minor side effects were making me uncomfortable on this new med, but my doctor breezed through our appointment emphasizing all the drug's positive attributes.  It was at this time that I decided I needed a new doctor. 

I had other issues with Dr. W.  She rarely returned my calls, was getting worse and worse about running way late on appointments.  She couldn't be counted on to be at the top of her game.  And since she doesn't bill insurance, it was costing me a great deal out of pocket to see her, not to mention the medication changes and the costs involved with that. 

So I have a new doctor - Dr. K.  He runs a bipolar and depression clinic and is supposed to be top notch.  In fact his waiting list is a bit long, so I will finally get in to see him in early December. I got on his list at the end of September.  I dread changing doctors because it can be a lot of work to establish where you are, where you've been and where you need to go.  However, Dr. K has a packet for new patients that is about 36 pages long, so we should be on fairly familiar territory by the end of the first appointment.  

In the mean time, I knew I couldn't take this new drug anymore.  So, I weaned myself off of it which you should never, ever do.  It is a very bad idea to quit meds without doctor supervision.  And I knew this but did it anyways.  I told Kyle it was probably going to be a rough couple of weeks as I withdrew from this medication, and it was.  I have been very depressed, very lethargic, sleeping a great deal more than I should, and experiencing lots of symptoms like fevers with chills and horrible headaches.  It's a really frustrating experience.  

Thanks to a wonderful therapist and the support of Kyle and that of my little dogs, I am getting through the slump, but it sure isn't pleasant.  It's amazing to me how one little pill can either pick me up or really let me down hard.  This is probably one of the hardest withdrawals I've gone through, and I have been through a few. 

Looking forward though, I'm excited about a new doctor who may bring new expertise into my treatment and hopefully get me in a good place to enjoy the holidays and greet the new year.

Dearest Lil' Pip...

My darling boy, 

What pleasure, joy and comfort you've brought to my life in the 18 months since we met.  From that first afternoon we spent holding one another, I began to experience a bond with you I'd never had before. 

I've had many pets over the years.  Growing up on the farm allowed me many opportunities for a wide variety of pets, but my mom was the one who was their main caretaker.  While I was at school, she was potty-training them, feeding and loving them.  I wasn't great at making attachments.  We moved a great deal, so people, places, and sadly, even pets came and went. 

YOU were different from the start.  Your adorable pug nose and soft brown eyes struck me immediately.  And those ears!  I wasn't sure if I was getting a chihuahua or a bat!  I saw about twenty chihuahuas before I first saw you, and you picked me the minute my heart leaped when I saw you.  

I have a couple of apologies to make to you.  First, for this costume.  Captain Jack was a popular Halloween costume pick among the other kids, so I thought you would enjoy it.  I guess I was wrong.

And this...so it may be that you're just not as into Christmas as I am.

And maybe you're not into the Gap, and I get that, too...

 
I'll try to do better by you, but I can't make any promises.  We girls never really give up playing with dolls and dress up.  We had dolls and younger siblings to dress up when we were kids, and as adults we exchange Barbies for babies, and since you are my baby, I substitute sweaters for onesies and you get the short end of the stick.


I would also like to apologize for the disruption to your life that the introduction of your little brother Dobby has brought to your life.  But you two seem to be getting along just fine.  

I know deep down that it's best for you to have a companion when Daddy and I are away, but there's still some Mother's guilt at not being able to give you the time and attention that I could when there wasn't a pushy, needy sibling stealing your thunder.  The arrival of the second kid is an adjustment for everyone.  I miss our quiet afternoons together, but at least you have someone to race around the house with.   So maybe you will forgive me the minor inconveniences of our new life together. 


We will always have our special connection that I only feel for you.  You may only way three pounds, but you reside in a large portion of real estate within my heart.  

I have so many favorite memories of you already. 

Your first night in Denver.  You were quite content with the accommodations at The Curtis. 

Your first Superbowl.  Go Peyton! (Unfortunately, we lost).  But to the Saints, so it wasn't too traumatic.

Your way of curling up on my neck for your naps when you were a babe.

The way your little tongue would stick out when you slept.  Dobby's tongue sticks out too, but pretty much all the time, not just when he's asleep.

Seeing Daddy and you together melts my heart.  Daddy is half his size now, but he still seems giant in comparison to you.  However, he's just a teddy bear inside, especially when it comes to you.  You know what the word "daddy" means, and when I see his car pull up at the end of the day I say, "Daddy's home!" and you whimper and run to the door to greet him.  It's truly one of the delights of my life, and my happiest time of the day.  

Another quality you have - you are SO easy to transport.  

Most of all, you just really, truly, completely thrill me. I love you to pieces, wouldn't trade you for a million dollars, and would do anything for you.  Thank you, Pip, for being one of the most perfect gifts in my life. 

Writer's Hypochondria...

I've decided to diagnose myself with a new illness called Writer's Hypochondria.  It seems that when I am supposed to be writing and focusing on getting words on the page, I suddenly become concerned that I might be dying.  In fact, I'm certain that if I am to live, I best get to the doctor.  Or take a Tylenol.  Or at least a nap.  Yes, a nap will surely cure me of all that ails me.  

It amazes me how many distractions I can find to keep me from actually putting pen to paper.  The load of laundry that hasn't been folded for three days suddenly must be put away.  The junk drawer needs organizing for the first time in five years.  The dogs need to go for a walk (i.e. I carry them and I walk).  The mail must be checked.  The checkbook needs balanced.  I must paint the living room, vacuum the stairs and wash the car.  Everything minor in my world immediately becomes of paramount importance.  

Why do I avoid doing what once gave me great pleasure?  Writing has, for most of my life, been a huge comfort to me, whether I was reading another's or doing my own.  But in the past couple of years, I've struggled to write, and it mostly comes down to the impact my psychiatric medications have on my creativity and my ability to come up with the words I am looking for.  

One of the big debates in mental health is when and if people should be forced to undergo treatment with medications that can have debilitating side effects.  No one would be forced to take insulin for diabetes if they chose not to.  It isn't always the same with psychiatric medications, especially if people become a harm to themselves or others.  It is quite common for those prone to mental illness to also be very creative.  This, too, has undergone intense debate and research.  Are persons with mental illness more creative?  Or, are those who are unusually creative more prone to mental illness?  Regardless, it has been proven that psychiatric medications can definitely impact the level of creativity a person is capable of achieving.  

I have encountered this many times in my treatment.  I used to look at a blank page as potential. I was excited to see what would become of it, whether it was a scrapbook page or a page in my journal.  Now, more often than not, I find it daunting. I know I will struggle to find words, I won't be able to concentrate as well as I once could, and I won't be able to envision potential as well as I used to.  Is the trade off worth it? 

I don't know. 

If one lives to create, yet that creativity and production is hampered by medications, one's life can still seem empty and one may experience depression-like symptoms at the loss of their creativity.  Yet, without the medications, one cannot function many days a month, making creativity also difficult if not impossible.  It's a frustration I have quite often, but don't have an answer for.   

PS (A Few Hours Later) ...


Just found this quote by Steven Pressfield, "Resistance is fear."  So true for me. If I don't write it, I won't know whether I fail at it or not.  Not writing is safe.  It's comfortable.  Writing is terribly scary. 

Right Now...

It's been far too long since I last blogged.  I have a million excuses but no excuse at all.  Mostly a major lack of motivation.  Here's a quick update about life in the past few weeks:

• Flooring still not in.  Hasn't even been scheduled yet.  We're looking at mid-November. 
• I finally reached a manager today at Home Depot after several days of unreturned phone calls and general run around. 
• Kyle and I are really tired of living out of our bedroom since the entire upstairs is waiting on flooring and we can't have any furniture up there.  But this will make the finished project that much more enjoyable.
• We had a snow storm that dumped about 8 inches of snow on Cheyenne in late September or early October.
• Tonight we are under a Winter Storm Warning with the threat of 8 to 10 inches of snow.
• I'm taking a memoir writing class in Ft. Collins and I have to come up with five life stories I want to write during the last half of the course.  
• Had a rough withdrawal from a medication that was giving me very intolerable side effects. (More on that in another post). 
• Struggling with the changes in season and the impact it has on my moods.
• Missing the longer daylight.
• Loving hot chocolate and soup in the crock pot during snowstorms.  
• Bulbs in the ground to prepare for their spring emergence. 
• Pip and Dobby are as ready for the house to be back in order as I am. 
• Reading Wuthering Heights.  It's my favorite book this time of year.  Contemplating starting Frankenstein or Dr. Jekyl and Mr. Hyde this weekend in time for Halloween. 
• Congrats to my dad on his nice bull elk.
• Feeling thankful for what I have, and maybe even for what I don't have. 
• Determined to blog regularly, regardless of motivation. 

Remodel Purgatory...

My last post was pretty upbeat about the changes around the abode.  It was optimistic and cheerful.  I was hopeful of quick turnaround on the whole process and figured by the end of September I would be relaxing in my newly redone home.

My disposition has changed.  I'm less patient.  I'm tired.  I'm sore.  My fingers are sore and in some instances, bloody.  Instead of springing out of bed eager to get going I wonder if I could sleep for just one more hour and then I'd have the energy of Superman and I could get this whole project done in one or two more days.  Sure.  Right.  Did I mention I have a thyroid issue that is still under trial and error treatment?  I feel about as UNsuperman as possible.  

This is all Dobby's fault.  


It all started one fine September day when I decided the (ugly) blue carpet in our 1950s built home must come up.  Dobby is not capable of being potty-trained and has determined to prove this by utilizing my (ugly) blue carpet.  It was either Dobby or the carpet - one of them had to go.  Since I paid a lot for Dobby and I think he's cute, and I hate my carpet, I opted to keep Dobby and wave goodbye to the carpet.  Besides, earlier renovation had proven we have some decent hardwood beneath that ugly carpet.  


Whether the following thought processes were a result of bipolar disorder or OCD, I may never know, but I was clearly cloudy-minded when I thought this would be a "little" project.  I was so far from rational and clear-minded that I now want to grab Kyle by the lapel and ask him "WHY, KYLE, WHY??? Why did you let me do this to us???"  (He would simply remind me of how I get when I'm ... manic.  I get a bit hyperfocused.  Driven.  One might say, stubborn.  

Oh, mania.  You are so deceiving.  You make me feel like I could conquer any old project in a day and a half.  You hide the costs and potential problems so that I see only the beauty of the plan.  You make me energized and gung-ho to get going. 


What happened in my mind went something like this.  "Okay, we're pulling out the carpet and scrubbing up the hardwood underneath.  But I've been wanting to paint this room.  I should probably paint before pulling carpet, otherwise I have to tape and put plastic over the flooring and try not to get paint on the floor (at which I am horrible).  It would make far more sense to paint and THEN remove carpet.  And since I'm going to paint, now would be the time to pull that awful wallpaper that bubbles and ripples when painted over.  It was a fairly easy job in the craft room when I redid that room."


I bought the needed supplies at my local Home Depot and eagerly embarked on the job of scoring, spraying, scraping.  And then I scored, sprayed, scraped, scored, sprayed, scrubbed, sponged, scraped and scraped.  And I was only down to the third layer of wallpaper.  I would soon learn that my old home's walls had FIVE layers, one of which included some odd plaster haphazardly placed.  I may or may not have cried out of sheer frustration.  When I got to the final layer, of which I last blogged, I had to admit the paper was kinda cute even though at this point I wanted to burn the house down.


Today, about 20 days into this project, I finally got to step 2 - repairing walls with joint compound and putty knives.  It was a bit cathartic, slapping wet goop onto the wall and smoothing it out.  Except that the perfectionist OCD in me really wanted it perfectly smooth, even though she knew that she would be sanding it down later anyway.  Sigh.  Much more frustration ensued, but I think I may be close to getting to the painting part.  


Which is good, because soon Home Depot will be doing the flooring part.  Did I mention that the hardwood floors I just knew would be beneath that ugly carpet didn't extend to the addition that was built at a later point than the original house?  All that exists in that area is some sort of sub-flooring I never really want to see again.  This project is costing a lot of dough, and I will probably have to substitute teach for the rest of my life to pay for it.  If I live that long.  

But at least when I get home from work I'll be able to relax in a lovely redone home. 


I can't wait to reveal the final look.  Who knows when that will be!  I will also be blogging a recap of my 30 before 30 list and revealing my 40 before 40 list.  If my fingers are still around.  Until then, I will be sanding, painting and sneezing.  And visiting the allergist.  

Nesting...

I'm in love with making my home pleasant, beautiful and homey.  Kyle bought our house right before we met.  In fact, it was how we met.  We've been living in this home for five years together and slowly making it "ours".  This is probably the longest I've ever lived in one house, and I love the idea of making it ours and enjoying it for the rest of our lives.  It's a modest home.  It has three bedrooms.  Our master bedroom is in the basement.  The two bedrooms upstairs are going to be Kyle's craft studio/office and my craft room/writing studio.  His is painted teal and mine is painted lavender.  Those rooms have been redone by me previously.  The kitchen has been redone by me, and besides the addition of a pantry and island, is finished.  The basement was remodeled thanks to the great basement flooding of last September.  So this project will pretty much complete major household repairs except for the sunroom.

I am presently stripping out all the old wallpaper in preparation for painting with Benjamin Moore's Coventry Gray.  With white trim, this color us uber warm and absolutely lovely. 

Usually I love every step of the remodel process.  However, this wallpaper is really tough to remove and I have been stripping wallpaper every day since Saturday.  The wallpaper is EVERYWHERE throughout the house.  It's been painted over THROUGHOUT the house.  Then, it appears that some areas have THREE layers of wallpaper.  And although retro-adorable, it's become the bane of my existence.  

I know this is going to be worth it in the end, but this wallpaper removal has been a nightmare.  Basically, counting the three layers and the plaster and paint I've got about five layers to get through.  My arms are pooped.  Even the smelly chemical peelers haven't helped a great deal.  I really, really, really hope to be done with the wallpaper tomorrow.  Then I can start the part I really enjoy - painting.  

When the painting is done, carpeting will be ripped out.  Some hardwood exists in some areas, but because this home has had several additions over the years, it is not certain where the hardwood begins and ends until the removal of carpet.  Because we're pretty certain there are some areas of no decent flooring, we had it measured today and we are probably going to have a pergo floor installed.  I am leaning towards this walnut shade from Home Depot:

 

After the paint is dry and the floor is installed comes the super fun part - decorating and organizing!  This will be another post.  For now, know that I have a redone entryway in the works (since we have no mudroom).  A picture wall (or two?) and some crown molding will make it all even sweeter.  Let's just hope this is all done before next year!

Eating to Live Vs. Living to Eat...

It's no big secret that I've had an unhealthy relationship with food most of my life.  Food was the friend when I was lonely.  Food never disapproved of me or made fun.  Food was sometimes in abundance and at other times scarce, but always it was available in some form.  Food couldn't abandon me.  It provided comfort and solace.  It accompanied me on the long bus ride home each day, or while I read before dinner. While it appeared to be my best friend, it was slowly killing me.  

On my best days I am mindful of what I put in my body and I try to remind myself that food is fuel.  On my worst days, I fall back into old patterns where my mood plummets even lower if something comforting (ie, carb-filled) isn't available.  Even Kyle can tell when chocolate is essential for the well-being of the household.  


In all honesty, I hate food. I hate my relationship with food.  I hate how I am controlled by cravings and how many times I've deemed myself worthless based on the reading on the scale.  Unlike so many bad habits that can be eliminated entirely from one's life if one abuses them, food cannot.  Unfortunately, a food addict must eat, whereas an alcoholic is not reliant on alcohol for sustenance.  When I write out my weekly menu plan, I wish I just never had to eat again. I wish there I could take a magical tablet along with my vitamins each day that would provide all the nutrition I need.  

When I had my gastric bypass three years ago, I was very excited at the prospect of getting to a more normal weight.  I was pre-diabetic, had high blood pressure, constant acid reflux and was in poor physical condition.  I had absolutely no idea how very hard those first few weeks on a liquid diet would be.  The difficulty was compounded by the fact that it was the Christmas season and an abundance of food commercials and parties with sugary treats were at every turn.  A liquid diet, followed by a pureed diet is all very bleak in the shadow of Christmas dinner Prime Rib.  Time passed, though, and the scale showed quick transformation, even when I could not see it. 


It takes the mind a lot longer to catch up with the weight loss.  I still don't see it sometimes.  I was almost 300 pounds when I had surgery.  I couldn't sit in a booth at some restaurants without the table digging into my stomach.  I couldn't fit in some bathroom stalls.  I dreaded flying, feeling deep embarrassment at the extra space my body would take up, crowding out the persons next to me.  I can't count the number of dressing rooms I cried in and the deep shame I felt when I had to shop in the men's section of the store to find a shirt that fit.  

Now 100 pounds lighter, I am thankful on a daily basis that my life is much improved from what it was when I was "morbidly obese".  Ouch.  Just typing those words hurts.  When I see my reflection in the mirror, I often have to look twice.  Is it really me?  I touch my collarbone as if to make sure it's still there.  The collarbone was, to me, the very image of femininity.  I couldn't see it before surgery.  Now I get such contentment at the sight of my necklace chain resting on it.  I can't get used to shopping in the Misses section rather than the Women's or Plus sized sections.  Unfathomably, a pair of Juniors jeans fit quite nicely the other day.  I look at them and hold them up, trying to discern whether they will fit, but again, my mind hasn't quite figured out what size I am, so it's a great deal of trial and error.  

The list of positives that comes with losing 100 pounds is quite long.  The way that size 10-12 feels compared to 24-26 or 3x is indescribable.  And yet, none of those wonderful feelings are enough to keep me away from the sugars and carbs.  This is how I know that food addiction is a reality.  So many times I've heard "Nothing tastes as good as thin feels".  If this were true, no one who has a sweet tooth would be overweight.  The amazing way that I feel about weighing what I do now, while incredible, is not enough to keep me from making poor decisions when it comes to food.  It's not enough to get me to the gym daily. It's not enough to keep sugar out of my kitchen.  


Food is still a very present issue in my life.  Certain events are tied to food - especially holidays.  Certain excursions are tied to food.  I will attend the Colorado Rockies game next month, and I will enjoy baseball.  But I will also enjoy some treats that are only found at the game - a hot dog, a lemonade, or perhaps some cotton candy.  I will see someone guzzling beer and eating nachos dripping in cheese, and I will instantly think of a savory soft pretzel.


Many bypass patients gain back all or more of their excess weight. Food will be an issue for me for the rest of my life.   On a daily basis I will battle cravings.  What I know intellectually to be right will spar with what I want in the moment.  I will refrain from bad choices some days, and I will give into them on others.  I will have to make conscious decisions about whether I choose to eat to live or whether I live to eat.  

Sometimes I can make the right decision for this moment only.  It will be one moment at a time, instead of one day at a time.  I will hear myself say, "Just get through this moment without overeating.  You can make it through this moment."  And I can!  Like most of the things I've set my mind to over the years, I can do this.  The difference this time is that it really is life or death, and it really is a matter of me choosing ME and my health over the taste of that chocolate.  I am the only one who can decide whether my worth is more than a bar of chocolate or a bowl of crackers.  And I'm thinking I just might be.