Archive for category Knitting/crafts

Sock Monkeys (Everything is shit)

Is it shit? Or is it me?

I have a tendency to think everything is shit/I am shit/life is shit/shitshitshit.

I have re-written this post five times because my writing is shit.

I gave up at my attempt at an very needed conversation with my mum about what was going on inside my head because what I think is all shit.

I have not written any stories or poems since the end of my degree because everyone else is better than me and I am shit.

I am convinced everyone I love will eventually hate me because I am innately shit.

I do not send people letters I write (after a promise of old style pen-pals) because anything I have to say is shit.

I give up on therapy because I think my therapist thinks I am a shit.

I did not want to make a blog post about the sock monkeys I have been making, because I am shit.

(sorry for the slightly out of focus images. I have shakey mad-person hands..thank you psych meds, thank you…yes, once again, it is because of the meds!)

So, today I am giving a large Fuck You to my crappy ‘everything is shit’ self confidence issues.

I am very aware that my ‘it is all shit, I am bollocks’ mind set will lead me no where expect, possibly, to a career as a speed bump much like Raymond. I do not want that. I know so many people feel like this – for me, sock monkeys have helped..not because I think I am good at it, but because it keeps me too busy to listen to my head. I generally send the stuff I make to friends (the neglected pen pals) and that helps too – because it makes other people happy, I like doing that.

In therapy you occasionally get sent ‘review letters’ which are pretty much school reports for mad people. Mine generally read something like ‘tries hard, talks too much, has self confidence issues’. Every time. I started crafting, not to be good at it, but I found I need to keep my hands busy. If I sew/knit/make cards/bead/embroider/draw my hands and mind are not so free to strave/binge/purge/cut/explode. It sounds obvious and simple doesn’t it? When I entered therapy at 14 I did art therapy, and since then I have been in so many art and craft classes. When I was inpatient in hospital I loved the creative writing and art groups..and they were main reason I complied with my treatment plan. During my most recent hospitalization I panicked and cried while in a large room of loud strangers (something I never do) purely due to the promise of Fimo. Why? Because I like it and it helps.

The reason I have only just (after nine long years) realised I can carry this into my not-in-therapy free time is all down my ‘you are shit at all the stuff’ imp that sits on my shoulder. Without a kindly therapist telling me I was doing well & being kind to me I could not tolerate the idea of trying.

I am trying to change that. With sock monkeys, sock zebras and other crafty things. It sounds so small doesn’t it?

But really – it is pretty big. I would advocate this to anyone. Make things, even if you think you are shit at it, it may help.

My Fimo is nearly cooked.

I am on a roll.

I have always been shy, sensitive and a little mad, I do not think that will change really. I may never become a brilliant positive person with bags of self confidence..but I think I may be able to live alongside my ‘everything is shit’ imp rather than let it cripple me. A therapy quote, I have one: Self acceptance is more helpful that total transformations. I do so very much believe that.

(Ps: blame any spelling mistakes on the meds. Yes. yet again)

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My name is Alexishere and I am a Wrapping Paper Addict

wow.

I am imagining my poor neglected blog hudled in a corner – looking up at me with BPD style ‘HOW COULD YOU LEAVE ME?!’ eyes. I am accused. I am guilty.

I went mad. That does not usually stop me wiritng but it did this time. I think I feel uninteresting. My life drips along. Things happen. I knit. I sit. I stare. I smoke. That is it. But…post-going-mad-and-ending-up-stroking-owls-in-a-psych-hopsital (there really were real life owls) I realised I missed my silly little blog, so I have come back, tail between my legs and rattling with good intentions to Post Every Day. (It won’t happen, but they say it is the thought that counts, right? Does that gets out clause of life work in this situation too?)

This little one was my favorite. There was also a classic ‘Harry Potter Owl’ (obvs a better, more understandable nickname than the actual name-of-breed which I seem to have forgotten) and a massive Eagle Owl. So that was fun..not that I would put myself in hospital just to poke an owl, but it was an added bonus. I also got to make stuff from clay (a very wobbly 5-years-olds-can-do-better filter tip pot).

Where was I going with this?

Ah. yes. I have ultimately decided it is okay to Blog even if I do feel as If my life lacks achievment, worth, and anything remotely interesting…mostly because I feel all that is a Naughty Lie told my Depression Head and causes me to isolate myself more until things get to the pre-hospital stage where I am incapable of talking/moving/thinking because everything just feels so fucking worthless.

Not my hands. Although I am wearing very similar nail varnish.

I am still doing all the crafty things. Phone cases still being my specialism. I still think it is one of the best ‘recovery tools’ I have stumbled across, it keeps my hands busy (important as I am a terrible skin picker, and when anxious I get crazy hand tics that only serve to make me look more crazy which = people staring which = more axiety. An evil spiral. So I have been known to knit while walking..really.) I have also disocvered card making, which I enjoy because it swallows up whole chunks of day in one big crafty lump..but I do not yet feel my efforts are worhty of blog photos. but, when I can afford it (emblellishments are an expensive little habbit) I endevour to become amazing so I can show off my skills to Blog Land. Yeah! Bet you are so damn excited now too. *rolls eyes*

Anyway, I recently made my friend a phone case..I learnt how to knit with alternating colours, and bought a big mutli packet of buttons..the two sort of got lumped together in my glee of having new things to play with. This is the result:

this is my most recent one, for a friend. I know the buttons are sort of wonky. I was having a minor (major) panic attack and button-sewing as distraction. Am hoping she will think it looks ‘quirky and handmade’ rather than ‘shit’. If you know me IRL..or sort of IRL..like..Good Place Friends (you know how you are) feel free to give me and order for colours/style/dimensions and I will happily knit you a case and send it your way. As the people who I keep ringing to buy houses from keep reminding me, it is not like I have a job!

Yes. I am house shopping. Although, I am still a bit disillusioned to find it is so much more stressful than nipping to Tesco’s for doughnuts. It IS a Good Exciting Positive Thing..but it also makes e want to tear my hair out. I have lived in many places…I think i have moved about 7 times since fleeing my parents abode at 17, but they were all tempoary places to sleep at, not really Houses To Live In so it did not matter that they were mouldy shitholes. Now it does and i feel far too grown up for my liking.

We are also looking to buy our own furniture. Buy it! Which also feels Old And Wise as i have always, always managed to find furnished housing that the past. The idea of a blank slate appeals though, partly because I can choose the ugly furniture rather than having it forced on me, and because the metaphor is a nice one. I feel like I am nesting. Me, the Boy and the cat we are going to re-home (even if boy is not yet aware of this.) So, furniture is expensive, everyone knows that..but this is the first time I have even internet-window-shopped for things like shelves. I found an amazing second hand recycled furniture place, that sells perfectly good ‘preloved’ stuff very cheaply. Am literally itching to go there. Asdie from craft shops I can’t really think of a more appealing day trip. (and I do realize that says far more about me than it should!)

On the notes of ‘objects that tell you too much about my personality’ I also seem to have developed an object-crush on wrapping paper.

Seriously. As well as constantly Googling Houses, Stuff to put in house, Stuff to put in house that I will never ever afford, ever and doughnuts I am also addicted to posh fancy wrapping paper. I love it. Possibly more than the thrill of wondering what is inside. I need to send a gift soon & I begun the supposedly simple task of shopping for some gift wrap (online of course, the internet is the social phobics bestest friend) and, I can’t do it. I can’t buy any because I simply want ALL of it. I tried to choose some last night (aka 4 am this morning >.<) and my ‘basket’ came to a total of £20. *jaw drop* I am very worried a similar thing will occur when I actually arrive at shop for house things. Every room will be burting with chairs. There will be nothing by chairs and sofa’s.

Easter. That happened too. I dislike the huuuuge amount of Eating-Diosrder panic that ensues when chocolate is around..but, I did get to wear my bunny ears (which I will happily admit, I have worn in public more than once, and to sevral seminars during my undergrad degree).

Despite apperances I am not actually posing in that photo! I was watching the dog and had no idea that Boy has stolen my camera!

I have run out of words. Which is probably a good thing. But i will be back, hopefully a lot sooner than the last time.

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Seasonal Socks & their implications on my Mental Health.

This post comes post a large unjustified identity crisis and a great deal of panic at the Bad Robbers who were not at the door (eventually proven by Brave Boy who unlocked the door) so if it is a bit discombobulated and confused please write to my cpn at

CPN name of choice
CPN housing
CPN Villiage
Mental illness aid land
H31P M31

and ask for an increase in my don’t-bo-so-paranoid pills and the don’t-panic-about-non-existent-Bad-Robbers medication.

Thank you.  (whenever I write ‘thank you’ i think back to my prior self who thought thank you was one word and feel smug due to my improved literacy skills, I aim that one day the same will happen with my use of commas..and possible my ability to deviate from the topic of socks.)

Today, I purchased a pair of Easter themed socks…

A visual example to make this post more exciting

They are grey and pink and have easter eggs on them (which could also be ovals with spots and stripes in, but who am I to nit pick drawings?)

Anyway – the bottom line is that these were seasonal Easter socks, not just your run of the mill, every day socks.

I promise that this post have a point and I shall get there, but (in the style of ‘Miranda’) bear with, bear with!

This Christmas I purchased for myself and others, and in turn received, a large amount of Festive Christmas Socks…

Does this need a caption?

Mine had slightly psychotic looking Penguins with Santa hats and a candy cane on them. (and trust me, they really did look Psychotic, I should know).

I also have a pair of Birthday socks…

And I so WISH they were copies of that image, but I am not so lucky…mine have purple presents and cakes on. Be it not for the cakes, they could have been mistaken for Christmas socks, especially as my birthday is in December.

Lastly, I have Valentines socks…

I want one just like this...

I am proud of my sock collection. I mostly spend my days in dresses, as the Eating Disorder complain less loudly when I am buried in fabrics than held tightly by jeans..and thus my feet are often covered by tights. I do not let that small fact stop my sock enthusiams, no! I wear socks over my tights and if I do venture Outside Into The Scary I hide them with my big clomping DM’s.

Today as I was placing my Easter Egg socks into my shopping trolley and eyeing up the pjamas I do not need and could not afford I realised how much had changed….

I actually used to hate seasonal socks. With a passion.

I know, I was so wrong!

I thought it was a waste. I thought that people would only wear those socks once a year and it also made them appear overly happy people who would happily suck up to a materialistic, consumerist world view.

Yes, I was a teenager at the time. These days, now I am OLD and approaching the mid-twenties I realize I LIKE being sock-happy and I happily admit I am somewhat materialistic-in as much that I buy seasonal socks, creame eggs when they are at till points and any biscuits or food advertised in the breaks between the tense bits of CSI-and consumerist because I like all the above and spend money.

But, before, I was a bit scared of breaking my own sock rules…and so many other rules. Rules like…’I can not eat until 4pm’ ‘I can not stop washing my hands for 35 minuites on my phone timer’ ‘I must get 100%, A’s, Firsts or U’s, 0%, fails and nothing in between’ ‘I can not open a door’ ‘I can not eat chocolate without the mother of all binge purge sessions’ ‘I cannot think any nice things about myself’.

I do not know what came first, relaxing my sock type rules or the bigger scary ones – but what I do know is that I have made really progress, and I was able to identify that fact while sock shopping in Tesco. It may sound odd but I used to fear any positive progress, I wanted to be the most depressed, the most eating disordered, the most scarred, the most borderline, the most ill…and when I realized that would equate to the most dead I tried for that too.

I do not think like that any longer, or not often.

I will happily wear Christmas scary penguin socks in the summer…and while things to do with my illness are still very prominent in my life I do not want to be the ‘most’ or ‘worst’..or, perhaps the ‘best most worst’. My mental health is not a competition.

I dare whom ever reads this to buy some Easter socks and wear them in October, when there are no real exciting events..only the terrifying run up to fireworks night, which shall never be saluted with sock desgins as bangs and fire are very terrifying things.

Now, in homage to the humble sock I intend to inundate any readers with countless socky images..

Socky happiness

These are an uncomfortable necessity in a sock drawer

WORD FACT: I also recall the time when I accepted the fact a ‘drawer’ was drawer not jsut plain draw…such a confusing word day, but I learnt it.

WANT

It is a sock cake! I do not know who I have lived like without it.

I am now googling sock cakes further to see if these are things you can buy, or a deft example of how useful origami really is in modern life. (and proving to my younger self that materialistic tendencies and consumerism is okay if it ends in owning such an item…)

a possible wedding cake?

It seems to be mostly folding…and aimed as presents for young babies..bit I prefer the wedding cake idea..I think the boy would like something edible though, so maybe a mix of the two.

I am constantly surprised at the amount of words I am happily devoting to the subject of socks..

and, of course..I can not finish this post with out adding an image of sock animals, can I?

#

I think I know what I will be doing once I have finished my current knitting projects..

I am slightly sad they do not look more sock-ish though..but I am off to amazon to buy a hefty amount of socks for craft purposes.

I need an I love socks badge or something. Some people conquer elements of mental illness and find a higer power to believe in…I find socks.

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Excited Post, Happy Happy Jump Jump

I feel like this, just minus the wet

After all the fear, and interview angst, and my ‘errr, I can’t actually remember what I did in my undergrad’ answer to the ‘tell us about your previous modules question’ and my mad twitching and my shaking and the anxiety…and even though I said I have a morbid fear of submitted my work for aplication and even though I am pretty sure they though I was raving mad…

I got a letter.

A letter accepting me for my full time Creative Writing Masters commencing in September!!

winning at degrees

This is turning about to be a Fabulous Saturday. Knitting, drinking tea and basking in my own glory. Fantastic.

One of the things I am most excited about is getting a library card with my face on that says ‘Post Graduate student’ then..when I get mistaken for a 12 I can whip it out and say ‘Do you know any 12 yr olds doing a postgrad, eh, eh,eh?!!’ …well, I’d never have the balls to do that, I am far too much of a wuss but it is nice to dream.

There is one good thing about suffering from an utter lack of any form of self esteem, confidence and self belief: good things are even more fucking good as they are just so surprising.

Will now count down the days to September…

6 months 6 days

189 days

4,512 hours

270,720 minutes

16,243,200 seconds

Not that long, eh?

 

 

 

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Lovely Friends*deleted*

I wrote a very long post and have deleted it becuase I do not feel it is fair to share that infomation with the world, It may re-appear, it may not.

 

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Insert Appropriate Title Here -(Or Inappropriate depending on mood..)

Hello, Hello

I looked for Images for ‘Sunday’ and came up with this:

Sickly Sweet Sentiment

I sort of wonder what the person who designed that image is like…if it was a Sunday project perhaps? Or their full time vocation is making odd images of animals + food to = some kind of mass produced, re-blogged image – are they happy in thier job?

But todays post is not about Hamsters and Ice cream (is it a Hamster) – though I shall keep it in mind for a future post.

Fact for you  

‘Shall’ is becoming anachronistic.

It is becoming an unused word, shoved away in favour of colliquol language.

I do not condone this..and I think it is wrong, wrong wrong.

‘Shall’ is a good, strudy word and YOU should use it, savour it, appreciate its age and vintage.

Please work with me to keep ‘Shall’ alive and kicking in this age of slang.

(now I have typed ‘shall’ to much it looks like an alien word…wrong..it is rattling around my head in big, bold red font and it a little bit intimidating.)

A distraction if you want to get ‘shall’ or any other pesky, word/song/advert jingle..out of your head:

Brain teasers

also, it is Sunday which means ‘nothing good on telly’ and ‘PostSecret Day’  Sunday Secrets

 

Knitting Update 

I have 28 patches of varying sizes..from very small squares (9×13) – my tension is still a bit odd – to large (28 x a lot) – I do admit to having stopped using my stitch counter.

I ordered a book which is coming tomorrow

Only click to look inside if you follow the link..you know that though

Find it on Amazon

You can also get a knitting book for men

Post-blanket I am torn between knitting a jumper for dearest Boyfriend…or knitting him a blanket for when he goes back to University for his final year (without me!)

but then I also found a knitting pattern for this:

A jumper for LittleDog?

 

And I think LittleDog would look lovely in it…he is 12 now so I could excuse it to my Dad who hates any sort of Dog clothing with a passion as an aid to keep LittleDogs elderly grumpy body warm. I think he’d love one..

Don't you think he needs a wooly jumper?

 

New Don’t-Be-Crazy Pills 

My CPN came over on Friday and she has started me on a new medication – Lyrica which is for GAD (generalized anxiety disorder) and is meant to be a bit of a magic medication as it is also trailed and tested for Fibro pain and depression.

I have mentioned before that I crown myself

Side effect Queen

 

and I had an accompanying post when I re-started Tramadol – Tramadol gave me Itchy Flea Babies

with Lyrica, also known as Pregabalin or (ProGoblin if you are immature like me) the side effects seem thus far to be slightly more bareable (and less deadly than some other drugs I have reacted to..) I am tired, but high.

I am getting much, much dizzier after Smoking which I sort of enjoy (and I shouldn’t, as i am sure it is intended to make me quit)

It has only been a few days, but for me the worst side effects seem to crop up in the first 72 hours so i shall (shall) keep you updated on the progress..

ProGoblin/pregabalin

 

That is all for now but I am planning to update later with some proper drawings and maybe something well written for once. Don’t hold your breath tough..Knitting is currently taking over my life.

 

 

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