At last...

Hit a slump about ten days ago. Not a really bad one, but enough to keep me down-in-the-dumps and my brain in rehash-mode. I've thought through so many past events, step by painful step, and didn't resolve anything. As usual. Makes for a hard time sleeping, too, and when I have been able to sleep, I can't remember my dreams. I started writing down my dreams a few months back. I read somewhere that as we change and age, our dreams change as well. Mine have. Most of my dreams have always revolved around anxiety of some sort. Two of the most frequent involved falling or drowning. Lately, however, I'm either trying to find something or to get somewhere. I guess I don't need Freud here, huh? I know dreams are supposed to be the brain's way of siphoning through our experiences and emotions, resolving what is/isn't important and dumping the crap. It's funny how the mind works, though. When I think too much about stuff, I don't seem to dream, and my strangest dreams occur during my most normal times. Or whatever passes as normal for me.

On a completely unrelated note, my bonus for curtailing my spending habits is the purchase of a long-wanted piece from my favorite designer, Patricia of Artlab. I'm sure anyone who has followed her as long as I have already owns the Andromache shirt made of deconstructed tshirts. This incredible garment can be purchased from her shop at Etsy.

Hi, my name is Linda...**

Ah, the ways we choose to deal with problems that in turn become problems themselves. Hello, I am a severe shopaholic. No need to discuss the fact that I'm not working and don't need to get dressed up every day. No need to discuss the fact that I've always had ten times more clothing than I need or even wear. No need to discuss the fact that my credit card is maxed out. No need because my other half discusses these things with me quite often. Or more correctly, he lectures me. I know he's right. Sadly, I can't seem to help myself. Hence, the word shopaholic--my addiction. My usual retort relates to how I'm not addicted to anything like drugs or alcohol and isn't that a good thing. Afterwards, I go running to the computer to find something else to buy online. He lectures, I get anxious. Anxiety leads to feelings of sadness. Sadness makes me think I need something to make me feel better. Chi-ching. Not that this only recently happened. I've been doing it forever, which I guess means I've felt anxious and sad forever? Maybe, but not to the degree of the past year, although I think I have done most of the credit card damage during that time. My hubby also recently remarked that when I do leave the house these days I always shop. Hhhmmm, hadn't thought about it, but he's right again, drat the man. I guess I do it to help with my can't-leave-the-house phobia or to feel better while I'm out. The truly awful thing about the purchases I've made in the last six to ten months is that I haven't worn or used 90% of them. When we went to the theater recently, I wore a dress purchased right at a year ago. I have a huge amount of unique, awesome handmade clothing or accessories from Etsy or other online stores or recently acquired items from favorite nearby shops. A friend we met several weeks ago for breakfast asked if I was going to get back into creating and selling my own clothing since I wasn't working anymore. Well, I actually had thought that I would do that at the beginning of the year, but I can't seem to make it happen. I have pages and pages of design ideas complete with drawings and descriptions, and don't get me started on how much fabric and such are in the spare room. I recently came across a really awesome piece of clothing when I was doing the great refi cleaning, and I looked for a tag to see who had made it. I may have mentioned that I used to work in a fabulous boutique and purchased lots of unique things. Well, no label in this. I hung the vest on the outside of my closet door thinking that I would eventually remember where I had gotten it. I finally realized that I had made it. Duh. I love creating and would think that I would jump at the opportunity to do it. So what is my problem??? Don't know how many times I've asked myself that question over the last months. At first I thought that it was due to the fact that I was still recovering. Then I thought I was stalling because I am such a perfectionist. Can't get started because it would never be good enough, right? Finding that vest sends that argument out the window. So, what the heck is it? Well, I think I've figured it out. When I started making pieces 15 years ago, there were not many places to shop for the kind of look I liked. Now, there are a lot, especially online, and several more boutiques have opened here in town. I also know that if there is one thing I enjoy, it's the thrill of the hunt, the giddy pleasure of searching through the racks or pictures, choosing several over which to drool and then picking out the one that is "the piece I can't live without." And since the hunt has become easier than ever with so much more available, that next perfect thing is constantly in front of me. That's the problem in a nutshell--I'm not unhappy with my purchases, I just always find something else to purchase more often, something that is probably only slightly different from what I purchased last week. Searching for that elusive piece that will make my imperfect life perfect and I'll live happily ever after.

Is it any wonder why I have Alice and Dorothy in my head?

(Image is entitled "Searching For Fairy Tales" and can be found at thisyearsgirl, an Etsy shop with lots of beautiful and dreamy artwork by Melissa Nucera.)

**Please note that no offense is meant to the blogger(s) or Etsy shops that have tempted me beyond reason.

Size does matter...

As previously mentioned, I've been working part-part-time on a project for my previous employer, and it's been eating into my journal time. I've been going to the office several days per week, and I'm at the point that the work should be completed in another day or two. I don't know what, if anything, I'll do there once this is finished. They may need me for a few days per month, but we will see. As the weeks have gone by, the same things that caused me to leave have gradually started up again. I'm certainly not where I was six months ago, but this week has seen a bit of a setback for me. It just confirms that I need to stay away from highly emotional and stressful situations.

Speaking of stressful, I just read that a "plus-size" model was protesting her recently published photograph. It seems that the publisher had the picture airbrushed from a size 10 to a size 2. She said she was proud of her size and felt it was insulting to her for the photo to be changed. Funny, I was insulted to find out that a size 10 was considered a plus-size! When did that happen? I knew that the modelling business has been getting bad press for pushing the girls to be so thin that they aren't healthy, but I didn't realize that those standards were now being pushed on women in general. However, I have noticed as I've shopped online for the last year or more that designers do seem to be using less material. A size Large just ain't what it used to be.

I recently found a picture of myself taken about 5 months before I got married. Both my other half and I agreed that I look way, way, better now. We both thought I looked anorexic in the photo, but I remember never feeling thin enough. As I've aged, predictably, I've gained those few pounds per year. Anyone who has seen me within the last 10 or so years has said that I look great, maybe because I now have curves.

The good news from the fashion front is that curves are back in vogue! I just wish someone would tell that to all of those designers who think a size Large is equivalent to a size 8. Who would like to volunteer? Anyone?

(Image is a black and white gelatin silver print entitled "Hands." It can be purchased at Etsy from leanaphoto.)