As a kid, my mom would always have Kleenex stuffed underneath her sweater sleeve, wadded up in her pocket, and buried at the bottom of her purse. It drove me crazy and they were never nice, soft tissues --rather dried out, scratchy, snot-crusted and lipstick-blotted single-p ly wads of tissue. As a grown adult, I made it a mission of mine to never purchased single ply toilet paper or tissue paper. I was going to live the life, with some goddamn Charmin or Cottonelle and some fucking Puffs Plus Lotion.
So the week after the breakup, I went out and bought multiple boxes of puffs plus lotion. I littered boxes and crumples around the apartment. In the first week at least one box was empty. It's been two months and three more boxes now, and I was finally able to remove the one out of my bedroom. The daily tears had stopped .
But after recent ups and downs, reminiscing and flirting, and don't forget the fucking holidays, I found myself sobbing bedside tonight, once again grabbing onto sheets on "his" side of the bed. And so the tissues have returned.
I'm not quite sure where I'm going with this post. But I know that 2015 will bring lots of changes for me. Hopefully cheerful ones--a cross-country move, a new job (with higher income), being more physically active and toned, eating healthier, drinking less, and saving more.
If I save my goal funds for next year, I may celebrate with anything over that by treating myself to a vacation some where nice next year. Somewhere with the northern lights that glow so beautifully in winter.
Lord knows they have to have tissues at resorts overseas.
Tuesday, December 30, 2014
Saturday, December 20, 2014
PURGE ALL THE THINGS!!!! all the things???
I slept 11 hours last night. It w as marvelous. I've been feeling run down lately between working, helping Sarah move, meeting friends, applying g to jobs....namely my current job is driving me bonkers.
Anyway, I didn't change out of PJs all day, BUT today I was highly productive. Just not in the areas I should've been--like laundry and job applications. I spent the whole day reviewing my CD collection for any CDs not burn, burning CDs I have an burn, sorting CDs into ones I wanted to keep, ones I wanted to give away to friends, and one just wanted to sell. I also spent the night making soap. Yes. Soap. I was gifted a soapmaking kit, and in an attempt to rid myself of all my all natural body craft supplies, I thought I should use it all up at once. Nearly everyone I know will be getting some sort of heart-shaped soap for Christmas.
Now it's nearly 1 AM, and I'm just lying down to sleep. I only made it through the M section of my cds, but I'm pretty far done with the sorting. Just a few more hours and then boom---off to see if I can sell any. All my mixed CDs and burned CDs are going to be regifted to my coworkers. And the kids at Alternatives. Though I'm not sure if majority of my CDs are explicit or Not. Whatever.
At this point a large portion of my apartment has been sorted. which means it's all laying on my floor. This makes it not so easy functioning within the apartment. The cats are freaking out bc they see the writing on the walls. They have moved enough to know. When I get back from my trip to Iowa and Indy, I'll take it all to places to donate.
Towels to the cat shelter
Art stuff to kids at Alternatives, office stuff to office at Alternatives
Glasses to a glasses store (maybe they can donate them)
Running Shoes to fleet feet. Surely they'd have some sort of drive.
Clothes to Howard Brown
Bits and bobs to Howard Brown
Someone will likely pick up the lingerie cabinet and desk when I get back next Sunday.
CDs, books, and videos to half price books
Relist earrings
For ebay:
List jewelry box
List ikea table
I'm starting to feel relieved to get rid of so much. Like a weight will be lifted. Once I get it all out of the apartment, of course. Right now I'm in the planning and sorting phase. The purging is coming soon. I'm so ducking psyched.
Last year when I went through another major reoccurring relapse, I spoke with multiple friends about how I want to get rid of everything I my own . It seemed a bitch rushed and not thought out . So I moved everything with me to this one bedroom apartment. Across the country to an apartment one fourth the size I live in now, I have to do some major reconsidering of the definition of "need" and "want."
I've never been good at letting go of things. I understand everything has a purpose, and throwing it out just makes me feel bad for the people who helped create or invent it. Like it somehow devalues their place in the world because I threw out some stupid pin or bit of glitter. Like I have to repurpose every last bit of something until its use has been used up
I still own far too many things, but the more seriously I can dwindle my wares over the next two weeks when I have time off, the less I'll have to pay to pack, load, and move across the country.
For once I feel like I'm taking things in the right direction!
Now, about what I'm gonna have to wear tomorrow....looks like I MAY have to do laundry sooner than I thought!
Anyway, I didn't change out of PJs all day, BUT today I was highly productive. Just not in the areas I should've been--like laundry and job applications. I spent the whole day reviewing my CD collection for any CDs not burn, burning CDs I have an burn, sorting CDs into ones I wanted to keep, ones I wanted to give away to friends, and one just wanted to sell. I also spent the night making soap. Yes. Soap. I was gifted a soapmaking kit, and in an attempt to rid myself of all my all natural body craft supplies, I thought I should use it all up at once. Nearly everyone I know will be getting some sort of heart-shaped soap for Christmas.
Now it's nearly 1 AM, and I'm just lying down to sleep. I only made it through the M section of my cds, but I'm pretty far done with the sorting. Just a few more hours and then boom---off to see if I can sell any. All my mixed CDs and burned CDs are going to be regifted to my coworkers. And the kids at Alternatives. Though I'm not sure if majority of my CDs are explicit or Not. Whatever.
At this point a large portion of my apartment has been sorted. which means it's all laying on my floor. This makes it not so easy functioning within the apartment. The cats are freaking out bc they see the writing on the walls. They have moved enough to know. When I get back from my trip to Iowa and Indy, I'll take it all to places to donate.
Towels to the cat shelter
Art stuff to kids at Alternatives, office stuff to office at Alternatives
Glasses to a glasses store (maybe they can donate them)
Running Shoes to fleet feet. Surely they'd have some sort of drive.
Clothes to Howard Brown
Bits and bobs to Howard Brown
Someone will likely pick up the lingerie cabinet and desk when I get back next Sunday.
CDs, books, and videos to half price books
Relist earrings
For ebay:
List jewelry box
List ikea table
I'm starting to feel relieved to get rid of so much. Like a weight will be lifted. Once I get it all out of the apartment, of course. Right now I'm in the planning and sorting phase. The purging is coming soon. I'm so ducking psyched.
Last year when I went through another major reoccurring relapse, I spoke with multiple friends about how I want to get rid of everything I my own . It seemed a bitch rushed and not thought out . So I moved everything with me to this one bedroom apartment. Across the country to an apartment one fourth the size I live in now, I have to do some major reconsidering of the definition of "need" and "want."
I've never been good at letting go of things. I understand everything has a purpose, and throwing it out just makes me feel bad for the people who helped create or invent it. Like it somehow devalues their place in the world because I threw out some stupid pin or bit of glitter. Like I have to repurpose every last bit of something until its use has been used up
I still own far too many things, but the more seriously I can dwindle my wares over the next two weeks when I have time off, the less I'll have to pay to pack, load, and move across the country.
For once I feel like I'm taking things in the right direction!
Now, about what I'm gonna have to wear tomorrow....looks like I MAY have to do laundry sooner than I thought!
Wednesday, December 17, 2014
You Are Not Your Things
You are not your things.
This is been a somewhat difficult concept for me to grasp. Growing up not so rich, not so poor, our house was always fettered by bric-a-brac and knickknacks and things that I thought made the home feel cozy. As an adult, I see magazines full of museumlike homes, uncluttered by the nuances of tourist travels, dollar store gifts, impulse buys, and oddities picked up along the way. These are the homes that my ex-boyfriend wanted. This is not the home that I was raised in. I've been coming to terms with the reason WHY there was such a disparity between the "high-end" homes on HGTV that I felt often lacked charm and human touch and those that I fell burdened beneath hundreds of tchotchkes.
Tis true that media sells largely to 19-24 year-olds who yearn for adulthood, buttressed by Windows treatments and white-washed driftwood headboards. the latest palette of sea-gray swatches, and mixed naval-inspired patterns to make whatever was hip episode years ago in design feel "fresh" again. Retro vintage hip modern. With muted "tomato and avocado" now called "blood orange and olive" to erase the hatred of the our parents' design choices or whatever elder generation decorated roof to shag carpet, feeling as hip and happy as the summer's day.
And now we're onto antlers painted gold and all the neutral colors. Good God. All the antlers and owls. What IS it with wildlife?!?And no longer gold but copper. Don't forget silver was before gold. And bronze before that. Soon brushed bronze will be back and probably even nickel and brass at some point in the next 15 years. Nothing is more valuable than an epic time stamp on the value of your ideas.
To buy. Make. Sell. Tear down. Repeat.
But never shown are the 34-year-olds, crippled by tens of thousands of dollars of student loans, making less than they made out of undergraduate now they are at Masters level, who are in the process of disowning 90% of their homes for tinier parcels of plots, all to start anew. This is my story. Sorting through piles and piles of....THINGS. Decor, crafts, books, hobbies, bits and bobs of what I thought made life comfortable.
This isn't the American life that I was led to believe in. But here am ... Smack dab in the middle of yet another existential crisis on the heels of a failed relationship.
I've always understood the beast that was the American nightmare--misled to place emphasis on the scurrying of minds burdened by the acceptance of one's mortality. It is easy to forget how much intangible, non-purchased things matter and how little everything from your nearest store matters when you're wrapped up in some Real Housewife fighting another drunken housewife about forgetting to invite her to a birthday party. When time is spent arguing semantics instead of taking action to ensure justice, equality, and fairness is dealt to all persons. Because that is the whole jig, right?
It's long been time for an American uprising, but many of us, myself included, were too busy worrying about which Le Creuset color of Dutch oven to purchase. (My answer: whichever is on sale and a knock off.) Now people complacent with selecting from 50 finishes of toilet paper holders are having to remove their noses from the latest Martha Stewart to engage in self-reflection of a deeper sort....specifically those OUTSIDE themselves.
Because every few decades, the people at the bottom get grumpy and hungry.
We Americans are in the business of selling the idea of a thing . The whole idea behind everything is to find comfort in a uncomfortable world---I mean we are so restless about this hunger for "comfortable living" that silence forms a constant ick in our gut. Because in silence we hear doubts--those sneaking suspicions that we aren't genuine or truly accepted and loved and revered until we buy that 2000 square foot house in the burbs with 2.4 kids, two cars, and the whole Gap department in our closets and can keep up with those people on Facebook who appear to be Having It All. The times of their lives.
No struggle. No "I wonder if I can afford this indulgence of McDonald's or if it'll default my bank account." Nope. These people are Winning. They have posted the most adorable engagement photos. He's even willing to hold some stupid fucking chalkboard that says some stupid fucking thing for her in some fucking field off a highway that you can't see behind the photographer at a rest stop.
And then the wedding pictures. Oh god. The fucking wedding pictures are 10X better/worse. And then the ultrasound pics and the pics of the babies in month-labeled onesies. Next will be Ann Taylor and a set of golf clubs. Private school for the kids. Lacrosse for the boy, debate for the daughter. Ivy League Colleges. A 9-5 job with your dad's buddy's office. Your very own car. A condo and a drinking habit. Some strippers when you get a little wild. A DUI wiped clean because you're white and a stock broker. And boom.
40. Same sad office. Nice suits. No merit or power to fight the spinning of the neverending wheel. Because that's the thing about life. It's all of everything you can make it.
You most likely will make within 15% of your parents' incomes. If you're lucky, that'll be 15% higher. And you still end up kicking the bucket someday.
So you make the "most" of it today. And publicize it on social media and hope that everyone agrees that you are the most beautiful, intelligent, talented person they know. Because if not....well then, fuck. You must have done something wrong to deserve any dislike.
And being dislikes is apparently the worst thing in the world? Well, next to picking the wrong shade of sea shell blue or whatever for your powder room.
So we flip-flop between caring about All The Things and the Things That Own Us. Back and forth, we see-saw.
And right now I've tipped the scales back toward hating all the Things That Own Me and back toward unfettering my living. Because FUCK.... all I ever wanted was a goddamn white-washed driftwood headboard. And a warm body in my bed to wake up and fall asleep next to. And a goddamn dish of rocks stolen from places my heart shrank or grew, morphed a bit that day.
You are not your things. Your things don't define you.
Your grit, your will, your talent, your skill, your intuition...those are the things that do.
This is been a somewhat difficult concept for me to grasp. Growing up not so rich, not so poor, our house was always fettered by bric-a-brac and knickknacks and things that I thought made the home feel cozy. As an adult, I see magazines full of museumlike homes, uncluttered by the nuances of tourist travels, dollar store gifts, impulse buys, and oddities picked up along the way. These are the homes that my ex-boyfriend wanted. This is not the home that I was raised in. I've been coming to terms with the reason WHY there was such a disparity between the "high-end" homes on HGTV that I felt often lacked charm and human touch and those that I fell burdened beneath hundreds of tchotchkes.
Tis true that media sells largely to 19-24 year-olds who yearn for adulthood, buttressed by Windows treatments and white-washed driftwood headboards. the latest palette of sea-gray swatches, and mixed naval-inspired patterns to make whatever was hip episode years ago in design feel "fresh" again. Retro vintage hip modern. With muted "tomato and avocado" now called "blood orange and olive" to erase the hatred of the our parents' design choices or whatever elder generation decorated roof to shag carpet, feeling as hip and happy as the summer's day.
And now we're onto antlers painted gold and all the neutral colors. Good God. All the antlers and owls. What IS it with wildlife?!?And no longer gold but copper. Don't forget silver was before gold. And bronze before that. Soon brushed bronze will be back and probably even nickel and brass at some point in the next 15 years. Nothing is more valuable than an epic time stamp on the value of your ideas.
To buy. Make. Sell. Tear down. Repeat.
But never shown are the 34-year-olds, crippled by tens of thousands of dollars of student loans, making less than they made out of undergraduate now they are at Masters level, who are in the process of disowning 90% of their homes for tinier parcels of plots, all to start anew. This is my story. Sorting through piles and piles of....THINGS. Decor, crafts, books, hobbies, bits and bobs of what I thought made life comfortable.
This isn't the American life that I was led to believe in. But here am ... Smack dab in the middle of yet another existential crisis on the heels of a failed relationship.
I've always understood the beast that was the American nightmare--misled to place emphasis on the scurrying of minds burdened by the acceptance of one's mortality. It is easy to forget how much intangible, non-purchased things matter and how little everything from your nearest store matters when you're wrapped up in some Real Housewife fighting another drunken housewife about forgetting to invite her to a birthday party. When time is spent arguing semantics instead of taking action to ensure justice, equality, and fairness is dealt to all persons. Because that is the whole jig, right?
It's long been time for an American uprising, but many of us, myself included, were too busy worrying about which Le Creuset color of Dutch oven to purchase. (My answer: whichever is on sale and a knock off.) Now people complacent with selecting from 50 finishes of toilet paper holders are having to remove their noses from the latest Martha Stewart to engage in self-reflection of a deeper sort....specifically those OUTSIDE themselves.
Because every few decades, the people at the bottom get grumpy and hungry.
We Americans are in the business of selling the idea of a thing . The whole idea behind everything is to find comfort in a uncomfortable world---I mean we are so restless about this hunger for "comfortable living" that silence forms a constant ick in our gut. Because in silence we hear doubts--those sneaking suspicions that we aren't genuine or truly accepted and loved and revered until we buy that 2000 square foot house in the burbs with 2.4 kids, two cars, and the whole Gap department in our closets and can keep up with those people on Facebook who appear to be Having It All. The times of their lives.
No struggle. No "I wonder if I can afford this indulgence of McDonald's or if it'll default my bank account." Nope. These people are Winning. They have posted the most adorable engagement photos. He's even willing to hold some stupid fucking chalkboard that says some stupid fucking thing for her in some fucking field off a highway that you can't see behind the photographer at a rest stop.
And then the wedding pictures. Oh god. The fucking wedding pictures are 10X better/worse. And then the ultrasound pics and the pics of the babies in month-labeled onesies. Next will be Ann Taylor and a set of golf clubs. Private school for the kids. Lacrosse for the boy, debate for the daughter. Ivy League Colleges. A 9-5 job with your dad's buddy's office. Your very own car. A condo and a drinking habit. Some strippers when you get a little wild. A DUI wiped clean because you're white and a stock broker. And boom.
40. Same sad office. Nice suits. No merit or power to fight the spinning of the neverending wheel. Because that's the thing about life. It's all of everything you can make it.
You most likely will make within 15% of your parents' incomes. If you're lucky, that'll be 15% higher. And you still end up kicking the bucket someday.
So you make the "most" of it today. And publicize it on social media and hope that everyone agrees that you are the most beautiful, intelligent, talented person they know. Because if not....well then, fuck. You must have done something wrong to deserve any dislike.
And being dislikes is apparently the worst thing in the world? Well, next to picking the wrong shade of sea shell blue or whatever for your powder room.
So we flip-flop between caring about All The Things and the Things That Own Us. Back and forth, we see-saw.
And right now I've tipped the scales back toward hating all the Things That Own Me and back toward unfettering my living. Because FUCK.... all I ever wanted was a goddamn white-washed driftwood headboard. And a warm body in my bed to wake up and fall asleep next to. And a goddamn dish of rocks stolen from places my heart shrank or grew, morphed a bit that day.
You are not your things. Your things don't define you.
Your grit, your will, your talent, your skill, your intuition...those are the things that do.
Sunday, December 14, 2014
Plan B
Two nights ago, I dreamed I moved to Seattle and became involved in the sex club scene and somehow became a dominatrix at a terrible beat-up little strip mall/old rustic barn place.
And I woke up thinking about how I never want to have sex or date ever again. Old Kerry used to get drunk and sleep with the first guy I could at the bar. New Kerry drinks wine at home alone and sometimes cries and has zero interest in sex or dating or any of that bullshit.
I guess what I'm trying to say is that I've never been in this situation before. Where I'm two months out and pretty much still crazy in love with the guy. The only thing that's helped me love on is knowing he could have been better to me. I could have too, so it's not much, but it's all I have.
I guess I kind of want to know that he's tortured also.....like he just didn't walk away easily from this. I don't know what exactly that will do, but maybe it will make me feel a little bit better knowing he's hurting too. Because if he's not, then I just feel foolish. Like I was madly in love with someone who couldn't give a fuck about me.
I've been thinking lately about all the times we got together. And every time we got together, I flung myself at him. He may have been the one to make the move, but I always chased him with open arms, screaming, "LOVE ME! LOVE ME! LOVE ME!"
He never chased me. And looking back on that, I should have guessed he'd never pick me. Because he never had before. I was always just kinda there. Like, plan B.
No one should ever be anyone's plan B. Or feel like it at least.
And these revelations are slowly getting me to step out of love and into self-preservation. And a few steps closer to Seattle.
And I woke up thinking about how I never want to have sex or date ever again. Old Kerry used to get drunk and sleep with the first guy I could at the bar. New Kerry drinks wine at home alone and sometimes cries and has zero interest in sex or dating or any of that bullshit.
I guess what I'm trying to say is that I've never been in this situation before. Where I'm two months out and pretty much still crazy in love with the guy. The only thing that's helped me love on is knowing he could have been better to me. I could have too, so it's not much, but it's all I have.
I guess I kind of want to know that he's tortured also.....like he just didn't walk away easily from this. I don't know what exactly that will do, but maybe it will make me feel a little bit better knowing he's hurting too. Because if he's not, then I just feel foolish. Like I was madly in love with someone who couldn't give a fuck about me.
I've been thinking lately about all the times we got together. And every time we got together, I flung myself at him. He may have been the one to make the move, but I always chased him with open arms, screaming, "LOVE ME! LOVE ME! LOVE ME!"
He never chased me. And looking back on that, I should have guessed he'd never pick me. Because he never had before. I was always just kinda there. Like, plan B.
No one should ever be anyone's plan B. Or feel like it at least.
And these revelations are slowly getting me to step out of love and into self-preservation. And a few steps closer to Seattle.
Let It Take You
That moment when you think you can take it all and you find yourself slumped against a random wall in your apartment, eyes, welled with tears, for the omission of the future everythings.
And then in your head, the songs play. The songs play. The songs play. That one song plays.
Imagination begat dancers in leotards dark, and light,
and pointe and modern and flat and round.
Try to fill all the space in the ribs with familiarity and nuance.
And omission is flitted away.
Just let it take you.
Just let it take you.
Just let it take you.
All under its skin. In its skin. Within its veins. Find another normal.
Find another place to entrench roots. To weigh encumbrances.
To feel all the things and source them out in parcels of breath and giggles and handshakes.
And forgetful almosts never accomplished.
Because energy and focus and attention and right now....
Just let it all fall where it lay.
And then in your head, the songs play. The songs play. The songs play. That one song plays.
Imagination begat dancers in leotards dark, and light,
and pointe and modern and flat and round.
Try to fill all the space in the ribs with familiarity and nuance.
And omission is flitted away.
Just let it take you.
Just let it take you.
Just let it take you.
All under its skin. In its skin. Within its veins. Find another normal.
Find another place to entrench roots. To weigh encumbrances.
To feel all the things and source them out in parcels of breath and giggles and handshakes.
And forgetful almosts never accomplished.
Because energy and focus and attention and right now....
Just let it all fall where it lay.
Tuesday, December 9, 2014
IT WILL NOT ALWAYS BE LIKE THIS.
I went to the gym last night for an hour and a half and could have stayed another half hour. I forgot how nice it is to work out and sweat....and I mean, reeeeeeeeeeeeally sweat.
After seeing more pictures of me running, it's painfully obvious that I need to lose 20 lbs. I'm over seeing pictures of me where I'm disgusted with myself. I know I'm stronger than I was before I started on my healthy journey, and it wasn't ever REALLY about being skinny, but heeeeyyyylllll. Yeah yeah and I have curves (or curve...whatever), but I don't understand how this body of mine is mine some days.
I'm bored-hungry all the time. I need more protein, but protein requires effort! And I'm barely able to cook for myself without crying bc I have to eat alone.
So more working out and eating soup and veggies and coffee and less cheese and wine and Triscuits. It usually helps me sleep better, but not last night...
After seeing more pictures of me running, it's painfully obvious that I need to lose 20 lbs. I'm over seeing pictures of me where I'm disgusted with myself. I know I'm stronger than I was before I started on my healthy journey, and it wasn't ever REALLY about being skinny, but heeeeyyyylllll. Yeah yeah and I have curves (or curve...whatever), but I don't understand how this body of mine is mine some days.
I'm bored-hungry all the time. I need more protein, but protein requires effort! And I'm barely able to cook for myself without crying bc I have to eat alone.
So more working out and eating soup and veggies and coffee and less cheese and wine and Triscuits. It usually helps me sleep better, but not last night...
Intermission: had a nightmare last night that my favorite cat fell a few flights and broke her legs and was lying there in pain and the 911-for-animals-phone-line wasn't working and no one would let me take her to the doctor (they started swarming me as I was hysterically crying), and I was trapped inside a Republican Embassy and couldn't find my way out to take her to the vet.
Then I woke up to "someone" 🐈having puked in my bed. And a -$230 bank account. And no Nick. And I just kinda want to die.
I emptied my change bowl that Nick and I filled up for a "trip somewhere in Europe in two years" so that I could go buy Zyrtec and fill up my car. Because literally pouring out my dreams of a European pub tour with my love to replace them with the necessity of over-the-counter medications and some stupid dinosaur juice to fill my stupid car so I can drive to my stupid job so I can make money to buy stupid things so I don't feel lonely---yes, that was totally on my list of SHIT I NEVER WANT TO DO.
Every morning I wake up and he's not here is this....over and over again. In tiny incremental heart-ripping-out moments. Like slivers of splinters burrowing under your skin one second at a time. Just waiting until I snap.
Life will get better. It has to. One day, I won't start crying driving home to an empty house. One day, this whole three years will feel like a blip in my life. And all this is but a scratch, a scratch.
Every morning I wake up and he's not here is this....over and over again. In tiny incremental heart-ripping-out moments. Like slivers of splinters burrowing under your skin one second at a time. Just waiting until I snap.
Life will get better. It has to. One day, I won't start crying driving home to an empty house. One day, this whole three years will feel like a blip in my life. And all this is but a scratch, a scratch.
IT WILL NOT ALWAYS BE LIKE THIS. IT WILL NOT ALWAYS BE LIKE THIS. IT WILL NOT ALWAYS BE LIKE THIS.
Just need to focus my energies back on the areas it will pay the most dividends. Night y'all!
Thursday, December 4, 2014
Thanks, stupid brain!
I just woke up from a dream where I met him at the library and he leaned over and kissed me. It was so real.
Stupid, stupid brain...
Wednesday, December 3, 2014
AD FAIL.
Maybe I was too preoccupied by what I thought was domestic bliss to notice how fucking annoying commercials around the holidays are. Because Single-and-Hating-It Kerry is New York pissed.
Can I pleeeeeeeeeeeeease watch a few episodes of New Girl and Mindy Project without seeing 14 engagement commercials? All these ads for Zales and Fey and Jarod and stupid jewelry stores just makes me wanna puke.
Can I pleeeeeeeeeeeeease watch a few episodes of New Girl and Mindy Project without seeing 14 engagement commercials? All these ads for Zales and Fey and Jarod and stupid jewelry stores just makes me wanna puke.
I get it. I wanted a ring. Real bad. But it could have been a lunk of plastic for all I gave a shit. It wasn't the material of the ring that mattered, but the the concept behind it. You know, the whole infinity and beyond bullshit that I gobbled up.
Of course, it appears I was the only one hungry for such a feast...at least in my relationship. But maybe there's thousands of men watching these shows with their girlfriends when the gf sees the ad, gets that glimmer in her eyes, and turns to them and gets all, "Teeeheeee!!!! I wonder if he's gonna get me a ring for Christmas?!?!" And maybe those dudes don't recoil in horror.
Of course, it appears I was the only one hungry for such a feast...at least in my relationship. But maybe there's thousands of men watching these shows with their girlfriends when the gf sees the ad, gets that glimmer in her eyes, and turns to them and gets all, "Teeeheeee!!!! I wonder if he's gonna get me a ring for Christmas?!?!" And maybe those dudes don't recoil in horror.
Maybe I was that blissfully dumb as in love. I mean, I know I was. Now I'm gritting my teeth through stories of shiny new happy couples and seeing hand-holding strangers on the street. The only thing that makes me not run them over with my car in a rage is knowing that I was that shit-eating-happy a little bit ago, and maybe they'll be crushed like I am in a few months.
Yes. I AM THAT BITTER.
Yes. I AM THAT BITTER.
Also, the Great Pumpkin, aka the Toaster, aka my orange Element needs to get me out west and I have no money for jail or tickets or deductibles. Happy little thoughts.
Now I'm trying to focus my efforts elsewhere and do that whole "put it out to the universe and see what happens" shit. I've told friends, family, coworkers, and now bosses that I'm moving to Seattle as soon as I get offered a job. Just like the more people I told about my half-marathon and triathlon, the more I realized I couldn't back out.
I guess that means I'm gonna make this happen. I'm going to get a job, get rid of all the shit I've wasted my money on over the past 10 years, and move me and my three cats to a studio in Seattle. Work a couple jobs. Save money. Save the world through my ability to write instructions and manage documents. And save hella money and adopt a baby.
Well, not for at least five years. Fiiiiiiiiiiiiiiive years of living in a studio with three cats. THREEEEEEE CAAAAAATS. 🐈🐈🐈 if that's not sacrifice for love, I don't know what is. And I don't even have the kid yet. It's probably not even a twinkle in someone's eye yet! Anyway....
I wish I wasn't the kind of person who made plans--who could be more whimsical and live in the moment. Who didn't spend hours upon hours daydreaming about my future. But if I don't plan, then I won't do. And with my history of depression, I've found that keeping moving helps me not get "stuck." I have to commit to something, make it public, and then I'll do it.
But Ihaven't had such good luck following through with getting married and growing my family (okay 1-2 kids would be enough). Namely because most of my plans relied on someone else, and I had such clear fantastic visions of a future that I somehow forget to confirm with the other party. Everything I want to do that is solely reliant on my I do. My friend pointed out I have grit, and I am (after 22 years of therapy) starting to believe it. Starting to believe I'm pretty fucking cool.
But I still ignored warning signs and was wrecked by this break-up. I hate feeling foolish and off-base. Like I completely missed something. I knew things weren't great, but I thought it was a phase, a hiccup, a rough patch. I thought we'd talk through things, and keep hanging on until the dust settled again. Relationships are work, and I just thought we'd exited the hone mood period and finally got to the meat of digging deep and sorting through our feelings. Being truly honest about our feelings and doing the real work that ties people together.
I've spent the better part of the past three years making plans for Our Future, and I just a feel like a traitor to my own thoughts, to my own plans now that they don't have Him in them. I guess this'll take some getting used to again. Planning for Myself instead of Us.
At least I know I can count on myself to come through in the clutch.
Thursday, November 27, 2014
Don't do it: a test of willpower.
It's the first major holiday since He and I broke up. I'm holding up, but the images of families all around me makes me sad. I wanted to sit across from Him and tell Him how thankful I am that He's my best friend and partner, but instead I'm wine drunk on shitty $4/bottle wine at my sister's sleeping in a guest room alone. I should be snuggled up next to Him, expressing my gratitude for our togetherness and partnership.
Again, most days I somehow find solace in knowing that I can't make someone want what they don't want and that this is best for me. But on days when togetherness is emphasized, no matter how much family, parental, sibling, or nephew love I feel, it's not up to snuff.
So I'll resist the urge to drunk text to make sure he didn't spend the holiday alone. I'll resist the urge to make sure he's okay. It's all I've known or cared about for many years now.
God it's just so hard to break a heart full of habits.
Monday, November 24, 2014
Get up!
I can't seem to get up today. I've worked a bit over the weekend, but I just feel run ragged. The next week won't help either. Thanksgiving driving to and from Indiana (or taking the train if it snows because my back tires are bald), running a 5k with my brother and sister Thirsday morning in predicted sub-20-degree weather, eventually getting home to spend some downtime cleaning, purging, applying to jobs in Seattle. All I want to do is sleep and lie in my bed.
This will be the first major holiday without Him. Not sure how to feel about it. Still a bit detached and unable to accept the reality of it. My friends have been so supportive. And so far, two out of three who have been interviewing have been offered jobs. I'm certain the last one will also. He's just waiting to hear.
And I've barely even applied! I know I'm grieving and I know I should give myself grace, but it's time to pick myself up by my bootstraps and get moving. I need to focus. Focus. Focus. Focus.
And that can only happen once I get out of bed. *sigh*
Wednesday, November 19, 2014
#operationgetyourshittogether
The new TVOTR album, "Seeds" came out today. I've been waiting forever for it. I'm so happy about it, I can't stop streaming it nonstop.
"Seeds" album by TV On the Radio on Spotify
It is so good that it almost makes me forget that I am miserable and brokenhearted.
Almost.
But #operationgetyourshittogether started today. So I'm laying off the sauce, waking up and exercising, and applying to jobs in Seattle more now. It's almost been a month. He isn't coming back. So I need to move forward.
And to stop helping Nabisco make so much goddamn money. Seriously. What is wrong with me? It's like all I want are salty crackers and wine.....which is how I've gained 5 LBS. FIVE FUCKING POUNDS.
Now I have to burn that shit off and get skinny and move west and get an amazing job and maybe adopt a baby before I'm 40. BOOM. PLANNED.
#operationgetyoshittogether
6am wake up and eat
630am gym
745am shower
830am leave for work
9am work
10am snack
12pm lunch
3pm snack
530pm leave work
7pm eat
8pm work on resume/job app
9pm bed
Stop hitting snooze
Drink one thing of water a day
Eat breakfast
No eating after 9pm
Never skip two workout days
Apply to three Seattle jobs/week
Clean eating 1 day on/6 off, 2 on/ 5 off, 3 on/4 off, .....6 on/1 off
Get skinny and healthy
Get energy
Get a new job
Get to Seattle
Now to work on the accomplishing....
"Seeds" album by TV On the Radio on Spotify
It is so good that it almost makes me forget that I am miserable and brokenhearted.
Almost.
But #operationgetyourshittogether started today. So I'm laying off the sauce, waking up and exercising, and applying to jobs in Seattle more now. It's almost been a month. He isn't coming back. So I need to move forward.
And to stop helping Nabisco make so much goddamn money. Seriously. What is wrong with me? It's like all I want are salty crackers and wine.....which is how I've gained 5 LBS. FIVE FUCKING POUNDS.
Now I have to burn that shit off and get skinny and move west and get an amazing job and maybe adopt a baby before I'm 40. BOOM. PLANNED.
#operationgetyoshittogether
6am wake up and eat
630am gym
745am shower
830am leave for work
9am work
10am snack
12pm lunch
3pm snack
530pm leave work
7pm eat
8pm work on resume/job app
9pm bed
Stop hitting snooze
Drink one thing of water a day
Eat breakfast
No eating after 9pm
Never skip two workout days
Apply to three Seattle jobs/week
Clean eating 1 day on/6 off, 2 on/ 5 off, 3 on/4 off, .....6 on/1 off
Get skinny and healthy
Get energy
Get a new job
Get to Seattle
Now to work on the accomplishing....
Monday, November 17, 2014
The Rest of the Things
Today, I was productive. I ran, went to the store, did laundry, put up plastic sheeting on the windows, and I'm continuing my job search. I changed my cable service and broke the phone contract with Him. I felt amazing.
And then I texted him that I broke the phone contract. And then I started crying. Because then He asked to remove the remainder of his items this week.
And it all became so permanent. So... So....Final.
And last weekend I missed his aunt's wedding. And this weekend is a Friendsgiving....without Him. And next week is Thanksgiving...without Him. And each of these things is another bandage ripped off. Another step toward Singlesville. I know it should feel like another step toward independence, but it feels more like a giant leap toward loneliness.
So, once again I've entered #operationgetyourshittogether. Because every 10 years, I seem to go through a major breakup with someone I think I'm ready to marry. Okay. Maybe that's only happened twice. But I'm feeling like I'm back to square one in a lot of ways.
I'm sick of always feeling like every few years, like I need to suck it up and re-invent myself. Power through another round of bullshit. A breakup. Wanting a new job. To head in a different career direction. It's exhausting. This concept that I need to muster a neverending supply of energy from a seemingly dry well.
It all feels like So Much. Like all my friends have to join hands to form a net with my therapist and a helluva lot of wine so that I don't crash and burn the next three months of my post-break-up period.
So, I'm going to apply to jobs. Work out more. Drink less wine. Watch less TV. Drink more water. Be the awesome person I am. And just try to get it together. Again.
Always again. *le sigh*
Sunday, November 16, 2014
Morning
Well, it's Sunday morning now. I've made it not one but TWO nights being drunk without drunk-texting him. I suppose that is good, right?
The hopefulness I felt on Thursday has faded and now I am sad I wasn't with him and his family to watch his aunt and uncle tie the knot. These two people became very close to me. Somewhere between friend and family over the past three years.
But that's what happens in a breakup. You breakup with the other person, their family, their things, the future plans that won't ever come to fruition, the everything that is them, and their life now without you.
It's been so long that I've had to deal with this type of situation and I really thought I never would have to again. I really thought he was it for me. The end of playing the field, the ups and downs of The Game. I have nooooooooooooo interest in dating ever again right now. I just can't see it. I still see him in my head. I haven't completely severed that image of us. It's becoming images of Just Me more and more but fuuuuuuuuuuuck. This sucks.
Saturday, November 15, 2014
Oh god
I miss him. I miss him. I miss him. I miss him.
Been having pretty good days since I got a little pick-me-up after a decent interview on Tuesday, but now I'm in Bloomington at Tien's, making food I wish He was here to eat, and He is in Tucson at a wedding for his aunt and now-uncle, and I wish we were together and gahhhhhhh. I miss him so much.
Thursday, November 6, 2014
Ugh
If I have to explain one more time that I would have stood by Nick for a million years until he felt loved and supported but that HE did not want that any more, I think my fucking head is going to explode.
I would have kept coming back to what he needed and wanted for ever, ignoring my needs and wants, just to have him happy and by my side.
But that's the problem. He didn't see me by his side. So what the fuck can I do? Deal with the pain of rejection. Feel all of it with the core of my being. And walk away.
This is where I dump my crazy.
Ok. Most of the day I've been strong, but I went on FB and looked at his pics. So I like torture? Part of me feels like I can just dump out all this emotion all at once and then I'll be over it. It doesn't work like that. Or does it?
I have no willpower. Well, two weeks of willpower. I just can't believe any of this.
Wednesday, November 5, 2014
Saturday, November 1, 2014
The End of the Neverending Break-up
He hates me publicizing our private life. And I don't think this is that. These are my feelings. I'm publicizing my reaction to what's happening in my life. I still feel somewhat guilty about writing this, but I also know that blogging has helped me sort out a lot of my emotions. So here goes...
***************
Well, it was bound to happen sooner or later. I guess? I just envisioned us being married with two kids, a couple of grand babies, and a twenty-year marriage under our belt before we did splitsville. But therein lies the issue. I say all that and he can't see past the next few days in front of him.
Despite this break-up lasting nearly a month, the bandage was officially ripped off just over a week ago. I sobbed a bit, picked myself up by my bootstraps, and planted my ass on the chair in front of my computer and started my search for a job in Seattle.
Now it's been a week, and I'm continuing to go through the range of emotions... early on grrrlpower to "I'm too awesome for this bullshit" to melancholy to outright sadness and ugly sobbing mostly now. Lots of ugly sobbing. Gut wrenching, whole-body shaking, uncontrollable sobbing where I can't catch my breath. Shower crying. Morning crying. Nighttime crying. Private tears. Public tears. FUCK IT ALL TEARS.
To add to the shitstorm that is my life, I also got written up and put on 30-day probation at work two days ago. And was sent home because I couldn't get it together. So I've spent the better part of the past three days sobbing uncontrollably. Smelling his clothes. Touching his things that will soon be whisked out of the apartment. Half wanting to be in Seattle. Mostly wanting all this to be some terrible dream. For him to come through the doors and say it was a terrible mistake and he can't be without me.
Because that's how I feel. Like in the beginning of this break-up I thought I'd be better off without him....but that was because I didn't believe we'd actually break up. I thought that we'd have a come-to-Jesus moment and we'd fix things. Because that's what a relationship is....continuing to show up to the table and saying, "I know something's wrong and I'm here to work it out because I love you, so let's work on this." Over and over again.
We've been off/on for 3 years now, and we made it a year and a half this time. This last time. Knowing everything was the last time stabs me in the gut....the last time we hugged, the last time we kissed, the last time we were intimate, I'm grieving for every last everything...every item of him that won't be in this house any more...every piece of my day that was lifted by his presence. That looked forward to his big feet at the bottom of the bed. To him reaching tall things for me. To us teasing each other. TO our mutual love for music and urban designer toys. To his naked butt walking out of the shower into the bedroom as I watched TV. To him falling asleep next to me. To him kissing me and saying, "I love you" every morning before work. Every. Morning.
Yeah, we had issues. The biggest one being what I thought was a movable mountain, but he disagreed and the mountain will not be moved. It's hard for me to admit that I always saw our future. I have wedding dresses cut out and hidden in my drawers. I had started wondering how he'd ask me to marry him. I wanted a grand profession of love, even if I knew that wasn't his way. I wanted him to suddenly understand what I meant to him, to feel it in his bones so much he couldn't contain it, and to get down on one knee and look me in the eyes and say he wanted to stand by me forever. To then profess it in front of friends and family. Or at least have a party with all of them. I just wanted a small wedding overlooking the dunes, just family, just him and me. Being madly in love and staring into each others' eyes, thinking about the adventures we'd have in the coming years. Overwhelmingly madly in love.
And he never thought about it. And when he did think about it, it was his future, and I wasn't necessarily in it.
Of all the memories of our time together, it only got really bad the past month. I was unhappy that I felt he never appreciated me. Maybe I never showed that I appreciated him. His quirks. Even the ones I thought were annoying. But I accepted them. And none of it was that bad. We could work through all of them. But not the mountain. I guess. The mountain remains unmoved.
And I fucking blame romcoms, Disney, and all the terrible movies that show a couple where one of them has a lightbulb moment and there's swirling love and fucking butterflies and all that shit. Because that doesn't happen. Not to me.
I've put together a history with videos, because fuck it. Words are hard sometimes, especially right now. Moving pictures and music just feel appropriate right now.
3/20/13
4/22/13
6/11/13
10/20/13
5/5/14
9/21/14
10/25/14
10/26/14
10/27/14
10/28/14
10/29/14
***************
Well, it was bound to happen sooner or later. I guess? I just envisioned us being married with two kids, a couple of grand babies, and a twenty-year marriage under our belt before we did splitsville. But therein lies the issue. I say all that and he can't see past the next few days in front of him.
Despite this break-up lasting nearly a month, the bandage was officially ripped off just over a week ago. I sobbed a bit, picked myself up by my bootstraps, and planted my ass on the chair in front of my computer and started my search for a job in Seattle.
Now it's been a week, and I'm continuing to go through the range of emotions... early on grrrlpower to "I'm too awesome for this bullshit" to melancholy to outright sadness and ugly sobbing mostly now. Lots of ugly sobbing. Gut wrenching, whole-body shaking, uncontrollable sobbing where I can't catch my breath. Shower crying. Morning crying. Nighttime crying. Private tears. Public tears. FUCK IT ALL TEARS.
To add to the shitstorm that is my life, I also got written up and put on 30-day probation at work two days ago. And was sent home because I couldn't get it together. So I've spent the better part of the past three days sobbing uncontrollably. Smelling his clothes. Touching his things that will soon be whisked out of the apartment. Half wanting to be in Seattle. Mostly wanting all this to be some terrible dream. For him to come through the doors and say it was a terrible mistake and he can't be without me.
Because that's how I feel. Like in the beginning of this break-up I thought I'd be better off without him....but that was because I didn't believe we'd actually break up. I thought that we'd have a come-to-Jesus moment and we'd fix things. Because that's what a relationship is....continuing to show up to the table and saying, "I know something's wrong and I'm here to work it out because I love you, so let's work on this." Over and over again.
We've been off/on for 3 years now, and we made it a year and a half this time. This last time. Knowing everything was the last time stabs me in the gut....the last time we hugged, the last time we kissed, the last time we were intimate, I'm grieving for every last everything...every item of him that won't be in this house any more...every piece of my day that was lifted by his presence. That looked forward to his big feet at the bottom of the bed. To him reaching tall things for me. To us teasing each other. TO our mutual love for music and urban designer toys. To his naked butt walking out of the shower into the bedroom as I watched TV. To him falling asleep next to me. To him kissing me and saying, "I love you" every morning before work. Every. Morning.
Yeah, we had issues. The biggest one being what I thought was a movable mountain, but he disagreed and the mountain will not be moved. It's hard for me to admit that I always saw our future. I have wedding dresses cut out and hidden in my drawers. I had started wondering how he'd ask me to marry him. I wanted a grand profession of love, even if I knew that wasn't his way. I wanted him to suddenly understand what I meant to him, to feel it in his bones so much he couldn't contain it, and to get down on one knee and look me in the eyes and say he wanted to stand by me forever. To then profess it in front of friends and family. Or at least have a party with all of them. I just wanted a small wedding overlooking the dunes, just family, just him and me. Being madly in love and staring into each others' eyes, thinking about the adventures we'd have in the coming years. Overwhelmingly madly in love.
And he never thought about it. And when he did think about it, it was his future, and I wasn't necessarily in it.
Of all the memories of our time together, it only got really bad the past month. I was unhappy that I felt he never appreciated me. Maybe I never showed that I appreciated him. His quirks. Even the ones I thought were annoying. But I accepted them. And none of it was that bad. We could work through all of them. But not the mountain. I guess. The mountain remains unmoved.
And I fucking blame romcoms, Disney, and all the terrible movies that show a couple where one of them has a lightbulb moment and there's swirling love and fucking butterflies and all that shit. Because that doesn't happen. Not to me.
I've put together a history with videos, because fuck it. Words are hard sometimes, especially right now. Moving pictures and music just feel appropriate right now.
3/20/13
04/01/13
4/22/13
6/11/13
10/20/13
5/5/14
10/25/14
10/26/14
10/27/14
10/28/14
10/29/14
10/30/14
11/1/14
I can say this for sure. I became a better person with him in my life. I became a better partner than I've ever been. I was not perfect, and I was still critical when I could have been more supportive. I'm still learning how to un-do all the fucked up stuff I saw as "partnership" from my parents' relationships. And I'll love him forever and ever, but in the end, you can't make someone feel something they don't want to feel.
And I'll be alright.
I'll be fine.
I've always landed on my feet.
Tuesday, September 16, 2014
Nervous Nelly (aka, CALM YO TITS)
As someone who's experienced a fair number of traumas in her life I can say the following four things are the only reason I'm still here today:
1. Medication
2. Therapy
3. Vices
4. Support system
Note: the relevancy of these coping mechanisms are not always in that order of importance and effectiveness.
For example, when my director bitched to me nonstop about how he didn't want to be at work, yet made 25 grand more than I did. Or how, when talking to my friend--who is fundraising for two causes, one of which is for her best friend who was just diagnosed with cancer--I probably shouldn't complain to her that the dog kept me up all night.
But we all have issues in our lives that are valid to us. And it's important to find the right place to "dump out " and the right place to put compassion in.
Unfortunately, my sanity doesn't always let me put the compassion into myself or rational thoughts. For example, after my father died, I started having panic attacks and social phobia. I kept thinking I'd be judged everywhere I went. I started delaying my onset into the public eye, and ended up showing up late anywhere from 15 minutes to 3 hours.
After lots of drinking, drugs, medication, and therapy (and about 8 years), the panic attacks went away.
And then I started this fucking triathlon training.
I've found that trading one devil for a more shiny devil has done well for my productivity....up to a point. Working out to gain personal self-esteem is great.... until I push myself too hard and end up in physical therapy for a few years. Coffee is good.... until I have a panic attack. And overcoming challenges is great....until you encounter a long-time phobia that keeps pulling you down.
Enter the fact that I understand logic. I do. I get it. Which is why for the most part, fear and I have a fairly okay relationship. I am afraid of rational things. There's not a boogie man under my bed, but there COULD be a guy in the alley who wants to rape and/or rob me. Maybe even one who wants to eat my face. There's movies about shit like this that I have no intention of ever watching. I can't even hear the movie from another room. (Seriously, I can't handle it. Ask my old roomie, Jackson.)
So, when I agreed to do a triathlon, I never thought that the "7-year-old me" who was afraid of lakes would still rear her ugly face as soon as I started swimming in open water. I mean, I'm good til the water hits my knees, and then, really, there's not a good reason to HAVE to go in any deeper, let alone put my face into the water to see all the frightening things at the bottom, so I usually only wade calf-deep in the lake.
IT LOOKS SERENE. DO NOT BUY IT.
And after five months of training, I've been frightened A LOT while swimming. Including twice when I almost shit my wetsuit. By a scary monster? Nope. By (1) a floor mat that apparently flew out someone's window into the harbor and (2) a plastic bag floating in the water. In my defence, the water also had minnows, which I'm sure you know are dangerous? Yes, both EXCEPTIONALLY frightening items.
SEE YOU THOUGHT IT WAS SAFE, SUCKER.
But the seaweed. And the rocks. And the fear that there's a dead body under me.
Yes, you heard that right. A dead body.
Why a dead body? Because CSI. Because I lived downtown Indy where bodies were always being fished out of the "Brown" (White) River down the street. Because I watch the news and know that bodies are occasionally fished out of Lake Michigan. Because when I was 7ish, I watched my father participate in a human drag of the swimming area at Shakamak State Park, and I figured out that they were trying to see if the boy had drowned BY STEPPING ON HIS BODY. (Don't worry--he wasn't dead--he was getting ice cream and got his ass beat something fierce by his granny. This was Indiana in the '80s where we still beat kids rather than hug them for not being dead.)
Fast forward 27 years and I still have a fear of dead bodies. And fish. Both alive and dead. But clearly these are not rational thoughts. I tried to tell myself all the rational things I needed to be able to survive the Tri, but still, I'd get into the lake and either freeze in place or keep going and finally get out, feeling whoozy and disoriented since I'd had pure adrenaline coursing through my veins for A FUCKING HOUR AT THAT POINT.
My friends and family, bless their hearts, listened to me and my fears for five months and gave me plenty of support and rational thoughts to focus on:
I always came back with irrational answers:
1. Medication
2. Therapy
3. Vices
4. Support system
Note: the relevancy of these coping mechanisms are not always in that order of importance and effectiveness.
ALL THE PILLS?
My sister recently posted a link to this article about how not to say the wrong thing. It's about dumping out and putting compassion in regarding how close you are to the traumatic event. I found this not only to be true with regards to trauma, but with regards to a large majority of other aspects of how we live our daily lives.For example, when my director bitched to me nonstop about how he didn't want to be at work, yet made 25 grand more than I did. Or how, when talking to my friend--who is fundraising for two causes, one of which is for her best friend who was just diagnosed with cancer--I probably shouldn't complain to her that the dog kept me up all night.
But we all have issues in our lives that are valid to us. And it's important to find the right place to "dump out " and the right place to put compassion in.
DON'T BE THIS GUY.
Unfortunately, my sanity doesn't always let me put the compassion into myself or rational thoughts. For example, after my father died, I started having panic attacks and social phobia. I kept thinking I'd be judged everywhere I went. I started delaying my onset into the public eye, and ended up showing up late anywhere from 15 minutes to 3 hours.
After lots of drinking, drugs, medication, and therapy (and about 8 years), the panic attacks went away.
And then I started this fucking triathlon training.
I've found that trading one devil for a more shiny devil has done well for my productivity....up to a point. Working out to gain personal self-esteem is great.... until I push myself too hard and end up in physical therapy for a few years. Coffee is good.... until I have a panic attack. And overcoming challenges is great....until you encounter a long-time phobia that keeps pulling you down.
NEVER GONNA GET TO THE TOP.
Enter the fact that I understand logic. I do. I get it. Which is why for the most part, fear and I have a fairly okay relationship. I am afraid of rational things. There's not a boogie man under my bed, but there COULD be a guy in the alley who wants to rape and/or rob me. Maybe even one who wants to eat my face. There's movies about shit like this that I have no intention of ever watching. I can't even hear the movie from another room. (Seriously, I can't handle it. Ask my old roomie, Jackson.)
THIS IS ME DURING ANY AND ALL HORROR MOVIES.
So, when I agreed to do a triathlon, I never thought that the "7-year-old me" who was afraid of lakes would still rear her ugly face as soon as I started swimming in open water. I mean, I'm good til the water hits my knees, and then, really, there's not a good reason to HAVE to go in any deeper, let alone put my face into the water to see all the frightening things at the bottom, so I usually only wade calf-deep in the lake.
IT LOOKS SERENE. DO NOT BUY IT.
THERE'S SCARY SHIT IN THERE.
And after five months of training, I've been frightened A LOT while swimming. Including twice when I almost shit my wetsuit. By a scary monster? Nope. By (1) a floor mat that apparently flew out someone's window into the harbor and (2) a plastic bag floating in the water. In my defence, the water also had minnows, which I'm sure you know are dangerous? Yes, both EXCEPTIONALLY frightening items.
SEE YOU THOUGHT IT WAS SAFE, SUCKER.
THAT'S HOW YOU'RE DEAD AND I'M SAFELY ON SHORE.
But the seaweed. And the rocks. And the fear that there's a dead body under me.
Yes, you heard that right. A dead body.
Why a dead body? Because CSI. Because I lived downtown Indy where bodies were always being fished out of the "Brown" (White) River down the street. Because I watch the news and know that bodies are occasionally fished out of Lake Michigan. Because when I was 7ish, I watched my father participate in a human drag of the swimming area at Shakamak State Park, and I figured out that they were trying to see if the boy had drowned BY STEPPING ON HIS BODY. (Don't worry--he wasn't dead--he was getting ice cream and got his ass beat something fierce by his granny. This was Indiana in the '80s where we still beat kids rather than hug them for not being dead.)
Fast forward 27 years and I still have a fear of dead bodies. And fish. Both alive and dead. But clearly these are not rational thoughts. I tried to tell myself all the rational things I needed to be able to survive the Tri, but still, I'd get into the lake and either freeze in place or keep going and finally get out, feeling whoozy and disoriented since I'd had pure adrenaline coursing through my veins for A FUCKING HOUR AT THAT POINT.
AIN'T NO "BREATHE THROUGH IT" AT THIS POINT.
My friends and family, bless their hearts, listened to me and my fears for five months and gave me plenty of support and rational thoughts to focus on:
- "Imagine the dead bodies are chasing you, and you'll just swim faster." --my friend Sarah
- "They drag the lake. You're fine." --Boyfriend (aka, Nick)
- "You'll be swimming in 10 feet of water with hundreds of other people. You'll be fine. Besides, the bodies won't be able to touch you." --My brother
IT LOOKS MENACING BECAUSE IT IS.
I always came back with irrational answers:
- "Sarah, they can't chase me. Just float up after weeks of being down there. I watch CSI. I know how this works."
- "You're lying to me. I've been swimming out there for WEEKS and I've NEVER seen them drag the lake once."
- "But what if the bodies are in the seaweed and float up right as I've gone over them because the rest of the people in front of me created enough current to loosen their entanglement and then one floats up near me?!?!"
My swim coach, bless his heart, helped me slow down my swim, breathe through my anxiety, and take 5 deep breaths out and 4 deep breaths in any time I got really stuck. I also flipped on my back....A LOT. Backstroke is completely legal in triathlons, and since I wasn't really trying to win the damn things, I took advantage of it.
In the end, I practiced a LOT in the lake at Ohio Street, some at Ladder 1, some at the Jarvis stop, and slowly got over my fears...ish.
"Oh silly seaweed, you go in my facemask, not my hair!"
I swam a bit with my face in the water at the Chicago Triathlon, but there were SO MANY PEOPLE. I ended up flipping on my back and probably pissing off a lot of people (and better swimmers who could swim around me, so NOT all that broken up about it). Also, the seaweed was SO BAD that I felt like I was swimming through nets made of the shit. So, I made it through my fear, only to have my bike break. WAMP WAMP MOTHAFUCKIN WAMP. So I signed up for Lake Geneva....that swims STRAIGHT INTO THE LAKE, no "Harbor's just 10 feet away" shit there.
For Lake Geneva, I started on my belly, swam a bit, and then flipped over when the seaweed freaked me out. Then, when the seaweed had disappeared, I flipped over and swam on my belly again. I had to swim freestyle a bit near the boat ramp (ie, seaweed, rocks, freaky things that remind me of a dead body being chained up), but at this point, five months of training in....I just kept swimming. AND I FINISHED THE TRI. (Which is another blog....to come.)
So, if you're a freakshow like me, and you have an irrational fear, MAKE YOURSELF CONFRONT IT. For fear of lakes, practice getting in there, getting in the deep end, learn what you like (to be able to see into the water or not? when it's dark out or when you can see the sunbeams into the lake?) and just deal with it.
Sunday, July 6, 2014
Sponsor a mile of my triathlon and help me raise another $528 for the AIDS Foundation of Chicago!!!
If you only have a few bucks, pick a mile to sponsor me by, and I'll add your name! This will help me raise another $528 for the AIDS Foundation of Chicago!
1 (THE SWIM. This will be the hardest part of the race for me!) Sponsored by: Matt Dobrowlski
2--Bike Mile 1-- Sponsored by: YOUR NAME HERE
3--Bike Mile 2-- Sponsored by: YOUR NAME HERE
4--Bike Mile 3-- Sponsored by: YOUR NAME HERE
5--Bike Mile 4-- Sponsored by: Jackson Stockdale-Wilson
6--Bike Mile 5-- Sponsored by: YOUR NAME HERE
7--Bike Mile 6-- Sponsored by: YOUR NAME HERE
8--Bike Mile 7-- Sponsored by: YOUR NAME HERE
9--Bike Mile 8-- Sponsored by: YOUR NAME HERE
10--Bike Mile 9-- Sponsored by: YOUR NAME HERE
11--Bike Mile 10-- Sponsored by: YOUR NAME HERE
12--Bike Mile 11-- Sponsored by: YOUR NAME HERE
13--Bike Mile 12-- Sponsored by: YOUR NAME HERE
14--Bike Mile 13-- Sponsored by: YOUR NAME HERE
15--Bike Mile 14-- Sponsored by: YOUR NAME HERE
16--Bike Mile 15-- Sponsored by: YOUR NAME HERE
17--Bike Mile 16-- Sponsored by: YOUR NAME HERE
18--Bike Mile 17-- Sponsored by: YOUR NAME HERE
19--Bike Mile 18-- Sponsored by: YOUR NAME HERE
20--Bike Mile 19-- Sponsored by: YOUR NAME HERE
21--Bike Mile 20-- Sponsored by: YOUR NAME HERE
22--Bike Mile 21-- Sponsored by: YOUR NAME HERE
23--Bike Mile 22-- Sponsored by: YOUR NAME HERE
24--Bike Mile 23-- Sponsored by: YOUR NAME HERE
25--Bike Mile 24-- Sponsored by: YOUR NAME HERE
26--Bike Mile 25-- Sponsored by: YOUR NAME HERE
27--Run Mile 1-- Sponsored by: YOUR NAME HERE
28--Run Mile 2-- Sponsored by: YOUR NAME HERE
29--Run Mile 3-- Sponsored by: YOUR NAME HERE
30--Run Mile 4-- Sponsored by: YOUR NAME HERE
31--Run Mile 5-- Sponsored by: YOUR NAME HERE
32--Run Mile 6-- Sponsored by: YOUR NAME HERE
FINISH LINE!!!!
(Every donation is tax-deductible!!!)
Go here to make your donation: http://events.aidschicago.org/goto/krazykerry
1 (THE SWIM. This will be the hardest part of the race for me!) Sponsored by: Matt Dobrowlski
2--Bike Mile 1-- Sponsored by: YOUR NAME HERE
3--Bike Mile 2-- Sponsored by: YOUR NAME HERE
4--Bike Mile 3-- Sponsored by: YOUR NAME HERE
5--Bike Mile 4-- Sponsored by: Jackson Stockdale-Wilson
6--Bike Mile 5-- Sponsored by: YOUR NAME HERE
7--Bike Mile 6-- Sponsored by: YOUR NAME HERE
8--Bike Mile 7-- Sponsored by: YOUR NAME HERE
9--Bike Mile 8-- Sponsored by: YOUR NAME HERE
10--Bike Mile 9-- Sponsored by: YOUR NAME HERE
11--Bike Mile 10-- Sponsored by: YOUR NAME HERE
12--Bike Mile 11-- Sponsored by: YOUR NAME HERE
13--Bike Mile 12-- Sponsored by: YOUR NAME HERE
14--Bike Mile 13-- Sponsored by: YOUR NAME HERE
15--Bike Mile 14-- Sponsored by: YOUR NAME HERE
16--Bike Mile 15-- Sponsored by: YOUR NAME HERE
17--Bike Mile 16-- Sponsored by: YOUR NAME HERE
18--Bike Mile 17-- Sponsored by: YOUR NAME HERE
19--Bike Mile 18-- Sponsored by: YOUR NAME HERE
20--Bike Mile 19-- Sponsored by: YOUR NAME HERE
21--Bike Mile 20-- Sponsored by: YOUR NAME HERE
22--Bike Mile 21-- Sponsored by: YOUR NAME HERE
23--Bike Mile 22-- Sponsored by: YOUR NAME HERE
24--Bike Mile 23-- Sponsored by: YOUR NAME HERE
25--Bike Mile 24-- Sponsored by: YOUR NAME HERE
26--Bike Mile 25-- Sponsored by: YOUR NAME HERE
27--Run Mile 1-- Sponsored by: YOUR NAME HERE
28--Run Mile 2-- Sponsored by: YOUR NAME HERE
29--Run Mile 3-- Sponsored by: YOUR NAME HERE
30--Run Mile 4-- Sponsored by: YOUR NAME HERE
31--Run Mile 5-- Sponsored by: YOUR NAME HERE
32--Run Mile 6-- Sponsored by: YOUR NAME HERE
FINISH LINE!!!!
Tuesday, July 1, 2014
Help me raise $2000 for the AIDS Foundation of Chicago!
As many of you have read on my bazillion social media posts, I've joined the Team 2 End AIDS (T2EA) triathlon training and fundraising program to raise $2000 by August 24, 2014.
That's a lot of time, sweat, energy, commitment, and support to bring attention to a worthy organization--the AIDS Foundation of Chicago. Until there's a cure...until discrimination due to positive status is wiped out...until there is no more HIV infections reported, until no one dies of AIDS, I will continue to support the AIDS Foundation of Chicago and fellow nonprofits committed to educating the public, to providing free and low-cost testing and medical support, and to providing additional services and programs for those persons affected by and living with HIV/AIDS.
Will you join me? I have committed to raising $2,000, including $275 by the end of today!!!
Here's how you can help!
NOTE: The AIDS Foundation of Chicago is a 501(c)(3) agency. All donations are tax deductible to the fullest extent allowed by law. If you need the Federal 501(c)(3) letter for your personal records or for your company's corporate matching, please specify so in an e-mail to me at kerry.flory@gmail.com, and I can provide it!
10 WAYS TO SUPPORT MY TRIATHLON AND THE AIDS FOUNDATION OF CHICAGO
1 (THE SWIM. This will be the hardest part of the race for me!) Sponsored by: YOUR NAME HERE
2--Bike Mile 1-- Sponsored by: YOUR NAME HERE
3--Bike Mile 2-- Sponsored by: YOUR NAME HERE
4--Bike Mile 3-- Sponsored by: YOUR NAME HERE
5--Bike Mile 4-- Sponsored by: YOUR NAME HERE
6--Bike Mile 5-- Sponsored by: YOUR NAME HERE
7--Bike Mile 6-- Sponsored by: YOUR NAME HERE
8--Bike Mile 7-- Sponsored by: YOUR NAME HERE
9--Bike Mile 8-- Sponsored by: YOUR NAME HERE
10--Bike Mile 9-- Sponsored by: YOUR NAME HERE
11--Bike Mile 10-- Sponsored by: YOUR NAME HERE
12--Bike Mile 11-- Sponsored by: YOUR NAME HERE
13--Bike Mile 12-- Sponsored by: YOUR NAME HERE
14--Bike Mile 13-- Sponsored by: YOUR NAME HERE
15--Bike Mile 14-- Sponsored by: YOUR NAME HERE
16--Bike Mile 15-- Sponsored by: YOUR NAME HERE
17--Bike Mile 16-- Sponsored by: YOUR NAME HERE
18--Bike Mile 17-- Sponsored by: YOUR NAME HERE
19--Bike Mile 18-- Sponsored by: YOUR NAME HERE
20--Bike Mile 19-- Sponsored by: YOUR NAME HERE
21--Bike Mile 20-- Sponsored by: YOUR NAME HERE
22--Bike Mile 21-- Sponsored by: YOUR NAME HERE
23--Bike Mile 22-- Sponsored by: YOUR NAME HERE
24--Bike Mile 23-- Sponsored by: YOUR NAME HERE
25--Bike Mile 24-- Sponsored by: YOUR NAME HERE
26--Bike Mile 25-- Sponsored by: YOUR NAME HERE
27--Run Mile 1-- Sponsored by: YOUR NAME HERE
28--Run Mile 2-- Sponsored by: YOUR NAME HERE
29--Run Mile 3-- Sponsored by: YOUR NAME HERE
30--Run Mile 4-- Sponsored by: YOUR NAME HERE
31--Run Mile 5-- Sponsored by: YOUR NAME HERE
32--Run Mile 6-- Sponsored by: YOUR NAME HERE
FINISH LINE!!!!
That's a lot of time, sweat, energy, commitment, and support to bring attention to a worthy organization--the AIDS Foundation of Chicago. Until there's a cure...until discrimination due to positive status is wiped out...until there is no more HIV infections reported, until no one dies of AIDS, I will continue to support the AIDS Foundation of Chicago and fellow nonprofits committed to educating the public, to providing free and low-cost testing and medical support, and to providing additional services and programs for those persons affected by and living with HIV/AIDS.
Will you join me? I have committed to raising $2,000, including $275 by the end of today!!!
Here's how you can help!
NOTE: The AIDS Foundation of Chicago is a 501(c)(3) agency. All donations are tax deductible to the fullest extent allowed by law. If you need the Federal 501(c)(3) letter for your personal records or for your company's corporate matching, please specify so in an e-mail to me at kerry.flory@gmail.com, and I can provide it!
10 WAYS TO SUPPORT MY TRIATHLON AND THE AIDS FOUNDATION OF CHICAGO
- Donate directly to my page!
- $32.00=a dollar for every mile of the race.
- $40 = 20 safer sex kits
- $45.00 = 20 CTA passes for clients to attend medical appointments.
- $63.33 = 5 HIV/AIDS tests.
- $77 = 6 HIV tests, so that more people know their status
- $106 = 50 meals through AFC's Direct2Food program
- $124.56 = 1 month of utilities cost for a household affected by HIV
- $264 = 8 hours of assistance with health insurance, assuring that AFC clients receive appropriate coverage
- Spread the word--especially to your (generous) coworkers, friends, and family!
- If your company does corporate matching, consider donating at least the minimum amount that they will match to DOUBLE the impact of your donation.
- Buy my homemade shit!! GUESS WHAT? All sales go to the fundraiser!!!
- Buy my tags-still-on workout shit!! GUESS WHAT? 50% of sales go to the fundraiser!!!
- Women's Zoot Z-Force 2.0 Sleeveless Long-John (Medium)
- Blueseventy Eclipse Cross Back Navy and Teal Swimsuit (Size 28 )
- Nathan Trail Mix Hydration Belt (4-bottle belt with zipper pocket)
- Fuel Belt Revenge (R2O) 2-Bottle Water Belt (Black)
- SLS3 FX Women's Black and White Tri Top (Medium)
- SLS3 FX Women's Fuschia, Black, and White Compression Tri Shorts (Medium)
- JanSport Klamath 68 (NWT) Hiking Backpack
- Attend a hosted wine tasting--all proceeds go to the fundraiser! (Stay tuned for future details.)
- Attend a bar night--all proceeds go to the fundraiser! (Stay tuned for future details.)
- Ask your coworkers if they would be interested in donating!
- Donate in-kind gifts and services to our silent auction! (This will be held at the bar night or wine tasting a bit later this summer!)
- Sponsor a mile of my race! (see below) If you only have a few bucks, pick a mile to sponsor me by, and I'll add your name! This will help me raise another $528 for the AIDS Foundation!
1 (THE SWIM. This will be the hardest part of the race for me!) Sponsored by: YOUR NAME HERE
2--Bike Mile 1-- Sponsored by: YOUR NAME HERE
3--Bike Mile 2-- Sponsored by: YOUR NAME HERE
4--Bike Mile 3-- Sponsored by: YOUR NAME HERE
5--Bike Mile 4-- Sponsored by: YOUR NAME HERE
6--Bike Mile 5-- Sponsored by: YOUR NAME HERE
7--Bike Mile 6-- Sponsored by: YOUR NAME HERE
8--Bike Mile 7-- Sponsored by: YOUR NAME HERE
9--Bike Mile 8-- Sponsored by: YOUR NAME HERE
10--Bike Mile 9-- Sponsored by: YOUR NAME HERE
11--Bike Mile 10-- Sponsored by: YOUR NAME HERE
12--Bike Mile 11-- Sponsored by: YOUR NAME HERE
13--Bike Mile 12-- Sponsored by: YOUR NAME HERE
14--Bike Mile 13-- Sponsored by: YOUR NAME HERE
15--Bike Mile 14-- Sponsored by: YOUR NAME HERE
16--Bike Mile 15-- Sponsored by: YOUR NAME HERE
17--Bike Mile 16-- Sponsored by: YOUR NAME HERE
18--Bike Mile 17-- Sponsored by: YOUR NAME HERE
19--Bike Mile 18-- Sponsored by: YOUR NAME HERE
20--Bike Mile 19-- Sponsored by: YOUR NAME HERE
21--Bike Mile 20-- Sponsored by: YOUR NAME HERE
22--Bike Mile 21-- Sponsored by: YOUR NAME HERE
23--Bike Mile 22-- Sponsored by: YOUR NAME HERE
24--Bike Mile 23-- Sponsored by: YOUR NAME HERE
25--Bike Mile 24-- Sponsored by: YOUR NAME HERE
26--Bike Mile 25-- Sponsored by: YOUR NAME HERE
27--Run Mile 1-- Sponsored by: YOUR NAME HERE
28--Run Mile 2-- Sponsored by: YOUR NAME HERE
29--Run Mile 3-- Sponsored by: YOUR NAME HERE
30--Run Mile 4-- Sponsored by: YOUR NAME HERE
31--Run Mile 5-- Sponsored by: YOUR NAME HERE
32--Run Mile 6-- Sponsored by: YOUR NAME HERE
FINISH LINE!!!!
Sunday, June 22, 2014
TREAT YO SELF. (ie, Homemade Shiz for Charity!!!)
I've decided to sell my homemade shiz and 100% of sales (less shipping) will benefit my T2EA Fundraiser.
All prices are flexible, but do remember that this is for charity so please don't be a cheap jerk!
All items can be delivered or picked up in person if you live in Chicago, or mailed (postage due will be added to the total to cover the costs of shipping, so that won't go to the T2EA.)
To order, please e-mail me (kerry.flory@gmail.com) the following:
Name of product: _______________
Quantity wanted: _______________
Scent(s) specified (if applicable): _______________
Price: ______________
Copy and paste until all your requested items have been listed.
Then specify the following:
For
___ pick up (Northside Chicago, Rogers Park to Uptown)
___ delivery (Northside-to-Loop Chicago only or Saturday T2EA clinic location)
___ mail (continental US only)
Total: ________
Once I send you a confirmation of the total, go to my T2EA page to donate that amount to my fundraiser. Once I confirm your donation, I will make your order the following weekend, and deliver/mail on the Sunday/Monday following!
Moisturizing Sugar Scrub
Ingredients: white and brown sugar, sweet almond oil, glycerin, essential oils (some may have vanilla, cinnamon, and/or zest)
All prices are flexible, but do remember that this is for charity so please don't be a cheap jerk!
All items can be delivered or picked up in person if you live in Chicago, or mailed (postage due will be added to the total to cover the costs of shipping, so that won't go to the T2EA.)
To order, please e-mail me (kerry.flory@gmail.com) the following:
Name of product: _______________
Quantity wanted: _______________
Scent(s) specified (if applicable): _______________
Price: ______________
Copy and paste until all your requested items have been listed.
Then specify the following:
For
___ pick up (Northside Chicago, Rogers Park to Uptown)
___ delivery (Northside-to-Loop Chicago only or Saturday T2EA clinic location)
___ mail (continental US only)
Total: ________
Once I send you a confirmation of the total, go to my T2EA page to donate that amount to my fundraiser. Once I confirm your donation, I will make your order the following weekend, and deliver/mail on the Sunday/Monday following!
For the Face:
Mint-Flavored Lip Gloss/Balm
Mint-Flavored Lip Gloss/Balm
Ingredients: beeswax, shea butter, coconut oil, cocoa butter, mint essential oils, mint flavor, carnuba wax
Container: plastic chapstick tube
Size: 0.15 oz each (standard Chapstick size)
Size: 0.15 oz each (standard Chapstick size)
Price: $5 each, 3 for $13, 5 for $20
No scent to specify.
No scent to specify.
Facial Toner
Ingredients: aloe, witch hazel, willow bark tincture, and select infusions depending on if you want calming, redness reducing, moisturizing
Ingredients: aloe, witch hazel, willow bark tincture, and select infusions depending on if you want calming, redness reducing, moisturizing
Container: aluminum bottle with spray nozzle
Size: 4 oz
Size: 4 oz
Price: $6 each, 3 for $15, 5 for $20
No scent to specify.
No scent to specify.
Herb-Infused Jojoba Facial Moisturizing Serum
Ingredients: jojoba oil and herb-infused jojoba oils [rose, calendula, chamomile], tea tree essential oil
Ingredients: jojoba oil and herb-infused jojoba oils [rose, calendula, chamomile], tea tree essential oil
Container: 2 oz amber glass bottle with dropper
Size: 2 oz
Size: 2 oz
Price: $15 each, 3 for $40, 5 for $60
No scent to specify.
For the Bath/Shower:
Moisturizing Sugar Scrub
Ingredients: white and brown sugar, sweet almond oil, glycerin, essential oils (some may have vanilla, cinnamon, and/or zest)
Container: double-walled blue plastic twist-on lidded jar
Size: 8 oz
Size: 8 oz
Price: $6 each, 3 for $13, 5 for $20
Specify scent. Recommended scents: lavender, citrus, cinnamon-vanilla, vanilla, spice
Specify scent. Recommended scents: lavender, citrus, cinnamon-vanilla, vanilla, spice
Moisturizing Bath Melt
Ingredients: shea butter, cocoa butter, sweet almond oil, essential oils (may include lavender and rose flowers or cloves)
Ingredients: shea butter, cocoa butter, sweet almond oil, essential oils (may include lavender and rose flowers or cloves)
Container: reusable cotton sachet
Size: 1-2 oz
Size: 1-2 oz
Price: $3 each, 3 for $5, 5 for $12
Specify scent. Recommended scents: floral, woodsy, citrus
Specify scent. Recommended scents: floral, woodsy, citrus
Floral-Scented Soaking Sachet for the Tub
Ingredients: lavender, rose, chamomile, and calendula leaves infused with essential oils
Ingredients: lavender, rose, chamomile, and calendula leaves infused with essential oils
Container: reusable cotton sachet
Size: 1-2 oz
Size: 1-2 oz
Price: $3 each, 3 for $5, 5 for $12
No scent to specify. Floral scent only.
No scent to specify. Floral scent only.
Scented Bath Salts
Ingredients: epsom salts, glycerine, essential oils
Ingredients: epsom salts, glycerine, essential oils
Container: double-walled blue plastic twist-on lidded jar
Size: 8 oz
Size: 8 oz
Price: $6 each, 3 for $13, 5 for $20
Specify scent.
Specify scent.
For the Hands/Body:
Cuticle Cream
Ingredients: beeswax, castor oil, coconut oil, cocoa butter, sweet almond oil, essential oils
Container: aluminum tin with push-on lid
Size: 2 oz
Size: 2 oz
Price: $8 each, 3 for $21, 5 for $30
Specify scent. Recommended scents: lemon, lavender, mint, citrus.
Specify scent. Recommended scents: lemon, lavender, mint, citrus.
Hand Salve
Ingredients: coconut oil, cocoa butter, shea butter, sweet almond oil, essential oils
Container: aluminum tin with push-on lid
Size: 4 oz
Size: 4 oz
Price: $8 each, 3 for $21, 5 for $30
Specify scent. Recommended scents: natural, vanilla, coconut-lime, spice
Scented Body Oil
Scented Castile Soap
Ingredients: coconut oil soap, essential oils
Ingredients: sweet almond oil, essential oils
Container: amber plastic bottle with pump
Size: 8 oz
Size: 8 oz
Price: $15 each, 3 for $40, 5 for $60
Specify scent.
Specify scent.
Scented Castile Soap
Ingredients: coconut oil soap, essential oils
Container: amber plastic bottle with pump
Size: 8 oz
Size: 8 oz
Price: $12 each, 3 for $33, 5 for $50
Specify scent.
Specify scent.
Refreshing Salt Foot Scrub and Soak
Refreshing Foot Moisturizer
Ingredients: beeswax, shea butter, coconut oil, cocoa butter, mint essential oils
Ingredients: salt (sea, epsom, and table), sweet almond oil, glycerin, essential oils (some may have vanilla, cinnamon, and/or zest)
Container: double-walled blue plastic twist-on lidded jar
Size: 8 oz
Size: 8 oz
Price: $8 each, 3 for $21, 5 for $30
Specify scent. Recommended scents: lavender, citrus, cinnamon-vanilla, vanilla, spice, lemon-mint.
Specify scent. Recommended scents: lavender, citrus, cinnamon-vanilla, vanilla, spice, lemon-mint.
Refreshing Foot Moisturizer
Ingredients: beeswax, shea butter, coconut oil, cocoa butter, mint essential oils
Container: double-walled blue plastic twist-on lidded jar
Size: 8 oz
Size: 8 oz
Price: $8 each, 3 for $21, 5 for $30
Specify scent.Recommended scents: lavender, citrus, cinnamon-vanilla, vanilla, spice, lemon-mint.
Specify scent.Recommended scents: lavender, citrus, cinnamon-vanilla, vanilla, spice, lemon-mint.
Around the House:
Homemade Madagascar Vanilla Extract
Ingredients: alcohol [vodka or rum], 2 Madagascar vanilla beans; infused for 8 weeks prior to use
Ingredients: alcohol [vodka or rum], 2 Madagascar vanilla beans; infused for 8 weeks prior to use
Container: amber glass bottle
Size: 4 oz
Size: 4 oz
Price: $10 each
No scent to specify.
No scent to specify.
Sicky Salts
Use to open sinuses when you're congested. Sprinkle into a sink of hot, boiling water, cover sink/head with a towel breathe deeply. 1-2 uses per tin.
Ingredients: epsom salt, camphor and eucalyptus essential oils
Use to open sinuses when you're congested. Sprinkle into a sink of hot, boiling water, cover sink/head with a towel breathe deeply. 1-2 uses per tin.
Ingredients: epsom salt, camphor and eucalyptus essential oils
Container: aluminum tin with push-on lid
Size: 4 oz
Size: 4 oz
Price: $6 each, 3 for $13, 5 for $20
No scent to specify.
No scent to specify.
Scent Profiles:
Scent profiles can be applied for anything that says "Specify Scent" above, or no scent can be added (specify "Natural" in order):
Scent profiles can be applied for anything that says "Specify Scent" above, or no scent can be added (specify "Natural" in order):
--mint (eucalyptus, spearmint, peppermint, camphor, etc)
--floral (lavender, rose, calla lily)
--lavender
--lemon lavender
--citrus (orange, tangerine, grapefruit, lemon)
--woodsy (basil, patchouli, and sandalwood, sparingly)
--bright herb (coriander, basil, lemongrass)
--basil
--basil
--lemongrass
--"Grace" (a la Philosophy)
--calla lily
--orange clove
--spice (clove, nutmeg)
--orange clove
--spice (clove, nutmeg)
WARNINGS:
(1) I don't know what you're allergic to. This is a side hobby of mine. These won't cure your life issues, but they are nice when you want to TREAT YO SELF. If you have sensitive skin, let me know. If you're allergic to shit like this, don't buy it. Cool? Cool. (But still donate because I know you wanna.)
(2) Please note that the bath melts, salt scrubs, and sugar scrubs will (1) soften your skin, (2) turn your shower into a FUCKING DEATHTRAP, and (3) potentially goop up your shower and make it so slippery you could breakdance in it. Or slip and break a leg. I suggest a light scrub with baking soda after the soak/shower (cuz that shit is natural and won't kill your skin or lungs with hella chemicals), and a lot of hot water so your drains don't get clogged. Not that there's a TON of oil, but still. I don't want to break your pipes.
(1) I don't know what you're allergic to. This is a side hobby of mine. These won't cure your life issues, but they are nice when you want to TREAT YO SELF. If you have sensitive skin, let me know. If you're allergic to shit like this, don't buy it. Cool? Cool. (But still donate because I know you wanna.)
(2) Please note that the bath melts, salt scrubs, and sugar scrubs will (1) soften your skin, (2) turn your shower into a FUCKING DEATHTRAP, and (3) potentially goop up your shower and make it so slippery you could breakdance in it. Or slip and break a leg. I suggest a light scrub with baking soda after the soak/shower (cuz that shit is natural and won't kill your skin or lungs with hella chemicals), and a lot of hot water so your drains don't get clogged. Not that there's a TON of oil, but still. I don't want to break your pipes.
You may be saying, "What about bath fizzies?" I haven't found a way to make them not so pricey....The citric acid that makes them fizz is super expensive, so I'm putting those on hold. I can also do moisturizer, but it tends to smell pretty strongly of the coconut oil, cocoa butter, and shea butter, which I'm fine with, but it's pretty...."earthy" if you're not used to it. It's a great moisturizer though, so let me know if you'd like some of that or are willing to be a test subject for my shiz.
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