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.

Know a good locksmith?

I've been out of work for almost 10 months, and although some might not think it's true, I have had somewhat of a schedule. Well, not for the first three months, that is. That was when I was simply numb. No thinking, no feeling, no responding. There were a handful of significantly stressful and humiliating events during the last decade of my life for which I had not grieved. Add to that the fact that I found myself in the final stage of my feminine life without much warning. Finally, the numbness wore off, and I became a thinking, feeling, responding maniac. Too much grief and hurt needed to be released. Too much time that had been, perhaps, wasted. This journal was my recording of what I needed to work through, get through one way or another. It took the last five or so months to do just that. One day I should probably record some of the events. I'm sure my doctor would recommend it. To anyone who took the time to read, encourage or offer up a prayer for me, I can't express enough just how thankful I am. Big, big hugs all around. I am eternally grateful.

Now, I am at a point in this journey that I can look back and see how I've progressed, and I am so encouraged by where I find myself. I am actually answering the telephone and talking to people. Amazing! I don't think I've ever said, but long ago during my first bad incident, I developed a phobia about the phone, and I've never gotten over it. Now, not only have I talked to people, I've gone back to work with my former employer. Technically, I guess I'm no longer employed, but then again, I'm not very technical. I think this is more of a part-part-time job. A good start, no? The retail position offered earlier in the year is still available, and I have been in touch with the owner recently. Again, good.

I know myself well enough to know that there will be more ups and downs. However, I believe that I've learned enough now to keep those ups and downs to a very low frequency. Hopefully, no more serious roller coaster emotional upheavals and certainly not with any regularity. I know when I need to back off, I think. Now that we've refinanced and made it possible for me to stay at home if I need to (which was a miracle to accomplish), I feel much less pressured and stressed. I have options. Again, amazing. I put myself at the mercy of others for so long, I forgot how that felt.

Well, all of this said because I believe that I had a bit of a schedule to my days. I am someone who needs a schedule. Plus, it was quiet, and I needed that as much as anything. My other half is now in the last of his four-week vacation, and having him constantly around has played havoc with my pseudo-schedule and my peace of mind! I can't wait for next week to arrive! He's not a horrible person, but it took this long and difficult 10-month journey to make him realize where I was headed. Downhill, very fast. He has begun to realize that he has never given me any support during the decade of difficulties and that he was, in fact, actually one of my difficulties. Sadly, over time, the result was the loss of our closeness. We will never have a true marriage again. He has also finally acknowledged that truth and is, like me, trying to live as friends. It is one of the situations that gives me the most grief. I am a person who needs to give and receive love. Not having that kind of relationship may be my biggest loss of all.

But enough of that. I am tremendously encouraged and almost feel giddy with the progress! I have a peace now that I have not had for a very long time. I think I've managed to put some of the pieces back together. My heart feels lighter, my emotions are positive, I have options, and I am able to not only unlock the door to The Place in which I had taken refuge but to step out into the world.

The Place will probably always be there. I can visit, but maybe I should throw away the key...

(Image is an assemblage from AnAlteredAffair at Etsy and is entitled "A Lock on My Heart."

I'm melting...

It snowed last Friday afternoon until sometime late Saturday. We got snowed in, and virtually the entire city shut down. Here in the South, we can't drive in the rain, so don't even ask what happens when it snows! I was content to sit and sip tea and watch the snow fall. It's one of the most peaceful things I know. It's amazing to think that every single snowflake is totally, completely unique. For me, that's mind boggling. Well, for me, a lot of things are mind boggling!

Being snowed in gave me some time to do more thinking about why I am here in The Place. I had to come here at the beginning. There simply was nothing else to do. I was broken, beaten down and exhausted. But I've been here for quite some time and decided it was time to reevaluate. I got the push from a friend who gave me some good advice. I didn't realize at the time just how good it was. She said that I should take care of myself and not try to control everything outside The Place. What? I was here because I couldn't control myself, never mind anything else, so just how was I trying to control the outside world? It took me a few days, but as I was trying to go to sleep Friday night, I sat straight up with that "AHA" kind of moment.

Previously I mentioned that I was staying here in The Place longer than some people thought I should. I don't go out very often, usually only once a week. The truth is, I have gotten quite comfortable here, and my friend has forced me to acknowledge that I am hiding here. By hiding, I'm doing two things. One, I'm assuming that everything on the outside will be difficult to deal with, and two, I'm not allowing myself a way to find out how much I've healed. Assuming everything outside will be difficult is putting boundaries on the outside, which is, in effect, controlling the outside. I set myself an impossible task there, no?

I do need to set some boundaries on the outside, otherwise I will be right back where I was six months ago. And I do need to go outside, for no other reason than it's time to take that first big step and see how far I've come. The Place will be right here should I need to run back. I can't control anything or anyone on the outside, and I can't live any kind of meaningful life without going back out there.

If I keep hiding, I'm going to fade away.

Many thanks to my friend for the wise words and the encouragement.

The image used in this post is from blog.myheartties.com. It's a blog by Leah Humphries, and in it, she discusses her life after an ostomy. I could relate to so much of what she had to say. She also makes and sells a heart-shaped ostomy pouch cover that she created to feel more "womanly" after her operation (myheartties.com).

Safe is The Place...

I've been hearing rumblings from those concerned about me being in The Place. They don't understand it at all. They think I would be better off not being here. They don't realize that I'm in a Place that is necessary for me to heal. A Place I have to be in order to heal myself completely, mind, body, heart and soul.

In The Place, I am protected from the daily onslaught of the world. As long as I can stay here, I feel good. There's no emotional overload. There is nothing and no one here to cause me any anxiety. There is just me and my friends. And we have tea. Ohhh, and cupcakes. Don't forget those. All in all, it's a lovely, peaceful Place. I keep the noise to a minimum, meaning no TV or radio. I listen to my own collection of CD's. I love so many different music genres. African drums and dancing. Rain forest rain. New Age musicians who make music sound like something more. Jazz, classic, country, old rock, new rock, international, alternative, opera. For some strange reason, I like women opera singers better than the Three Tenors, although I have those, too. Maybe it's because Madame Butterfly was the first opera I saw. And I'd say 60% of my CD's are instrumental. So I have it playing in the background, and it isn't intrusive. I read a lot, and of course, do my daily web surfing. My previous experience with a computer was limited to doing accounting and bookkeeping. Not only did I not have time to surf, I didn't know how to surf. Only within the last year or so have I discovered that there really is a world wide web full of more than any one person could ever want to see. Actually, it's full of stuff I never want to see. I found that out the hard way. So I have several places/blogs that I look at every day. And I am very picky. I want to see something new and interesting. Avant garde. Photographers who push the limits. Artists whose work takes more than a minute to understand. Seeing how far creative minds can take an idea. Or read and learn something I never knew.

Whoa, I can really go off on a tangent. Sorry. I was saying that I like the peacefulness of The Place. The problem, as those concerned see it, is that I am rather stuck here. As in, I don't leave very often. I do leave to go to work, but so far I've only managed one day per week. One day and I'm done. Come home, fall asleep, in a fog for the next three days. So I am here more than not here. I don't go to the grocery store or the drugstore. I can't go much of anywhere without running the risk of seeing someone I know. And that really scares me. I'd have to do the "happy face" thing, and I'm already so tired, I don't know if I could. So I'm trying to get these several concerned people to look at the bigger picture. I've been like this for over 20 years. More than 20 years in a depression that went from bad to worse to much worse. Now, I've finally given myself permission to focus on me, to allow myself to "completely" recover. I'm learning that I need more than just a few months or even six months. Maybe more than a year. I know that I am creating problems by doing this, namely financial problems, but I've done the quick fix thing for so long and it only gets me right back into the same hole. I think I need to stop falling down the hole. Or having the house land on me. Or whirling around in the cyclone. Or growing tall then small then having my head cut off. (I told Alice that if the Queen had gone through with "off with her head," it could be the solution to my problems. No head, no problems. Since it was her story, she adamantly refused to change it. Too bad.) Hopefully, I will have time to heal. Really, truly heal. I'll still have to live with depression, but at least it won't be in the major-to-severe levels. Because I want to be able to do the things I want to do. To truly live and not just be alive.

Indigolights, a Seller on Etsy, has a beautiful print entitled "The Healing Heart" by Brian. It looks like an open glass heart bound up in a metal harness. Right up my alley. Did I say I liked avant garde? Anyway, there is also the following about healing a wounded heart:

"The Healing Heart holds a spirit,
strained almost to breaking
by hurt, indifference, and pain,
binding it, until it is made whole again."

Healing a heart and mind that has been fractured and half-healed for so long cannot be done overnight. Who can say how long it will take? I want my heart and mind to heal, to be made whole, but I'm not unrealistic. I know that there is a limit to how whole they can be and that the healing will take time and lots of stitches and will leave scars. But I need to stay here in The Place for that to happen.

And I need for them to understand.

(Image used in this post is from TheLittleFox, a Seller at Etsy, and is entitled "The Safe Place.")

Being normal is not normal...

One of the things about being normal is that it is extremely exhausting. There is no down time when one is normal. It's about always being "up." I was normal for so long that I wore myself out. Now I am simply exhausted.

And no one understands.

(Image is by inksmear on Etsy and is entitled "Normal.")

Artists and friends...

One of my daily go-to blogs is by a favorite Etsy artist. I like to see how she is currently being inspired and to look at the really strange and wonderful images she finds. Recently, she commented on one of those images and how it reminded her of what it feels like when her depression medication wears off. Since I had to convo her at Etsy to let her know that I had gotten an item I ordered, I also mentioned how much I appreciated her openness in sharing about her depression.

Here's what she had to say:

"Yes, I'm medicated. (Sorry to offend delicate constitutions out there.)

Couldn't make a single thing without it.

Never used to do/make anything because just existing was so overwhelming to the senses and to my brain. Everything was difficult and exhausting.

I thank god for the miracle(s) of modern medicine.

My salvation.

Though, it doesn't demand worship or acts of blind faith. It doesn't go against logic or suggest I move to an ashram in a far-off land...

Ah, medication.

Without it I would rather not be alive. Very much so.

Although saying that upsets a lot of people. People who have no imagination and have never been in pain. And like to talk about ridiculous things like whether suicide is a cowardly act. I'd like to put those people out of my misery, is what I'd like."

So honest and straightforward. And so very true.

(Image and words from fancifuldevices at Etsy and on her blog found at http://fancifuldevices.blogspot.com)

We need a break...

My friends and I just finished our weekly tea party, complete with the most scrumptious cupcakes I've ever eaten. It seems that Alice knows someone who knows someone who recommended a certain bakery. I grew up on regular ole' cupcakes--white cake with chocolate frosting. Who knew that cupcakes had come so far? We enjoyed the ones pictured (from top to bottom):

Boston Cream Pie, Black Forest, Lemon Meringue, Irish Coffee and Tiramisu.

I thought perhaps my recent posts had been a bit heavy, so I wanted to offer something a little lighter. Of course, these are just as heavy...calorie-wise.

(Image used is from The Alchemist Chef.)

Fighting struggle...

Thankfully, things have been a little less rambunctious around here. Once I finally got the ladies settled down from their little blogger war, they have been on their best behavior! I really do not like conflict, especially when it's between people who hold a special place in my heart. I guess that has also been a big part of my past struggles. When emotions run so high during conflict, I am completely distraught and consumed by it. I'm even affected by conflicts between people I don't know! Don't ask me how or why that happens, but if it can, just imagine how much worse it is when I do know the people. Keeping everyone happy seems to be both my goal and my struggle.

The artist of today's image quotes the following about struggle: " 'there will always be a pull, tugging at you from every angle. fight it, and you will lose. give into it, and you will be home.' "

Easier said than done, I think.

(Image used in this post is from TinaCrespo at Etsy and is entitled "The Struggle."

Who am I...

I find myself pondering the questions of who I am, where I am going and what I have accomplished. These are things that until now I've never asked myself. I've made choices I thought were the right ones to make. I've done my best in anything I endeavored to do. I have tried to make a difference wherever I am. I have always walked to my own drummer's beat and hopefully always will. I have never let age be an issue, never given it a second's thought. I have always known exactly who I am. Until now.

A little background info might be the thing. I had a very stressful time of it last year and took a "leave of absence" from work. Twice. For almost four months total. It took three of those months to recover from the emotional and physical consequences of the stress. Emotional stress isn't anything new for me, but the physical problems were not only new, they resulted in a state of mind that led me to The Place. I have changed physically in significant ways. Physically, I am no longer who I was. The overwhelming change that occurred was being thrown into post-menopause. And therefore being thrown into a tailspin of questioning everything about myself. Something has "died" inside of me, and I can't seem to get my head around that.

So in the midst of trying to decide who I am now and where I'm going, I'm also struggling with how to get back into the workplace. I've been given the green light for a part-time job with the employer for whom I was working when I was so stressed. There has been no definition of "part-time" on his part, however, and I am one who needs structure. Therefore, I'm left hanging as to how to proceed. Of course, there is the fact that the stressful part of the job hasn't really changed. I'll walk right back into it even as a part-time employee. Now, I will admit that he has hired someone to take my place, so it won't come close to being as bad as it was before, but it still will be bad. So what with knowing that it will be a bit stressful and not knowing exactly what my new part-time position entails, I'm feeling a bit lost.

As I have said, I am one who needs to make a difference no matter what I do. I have always been aware of this need, especially when I felt like I wasn't meeting it. Because I have been away from a work environment for so long, I'm giving more thought to my options. Isn't there a saying that if one does what one loves, the rest will follow? I'm assuming that "the rest" means an income. So what is it that I love doing? Can I do it well enough to make a living at it? Will it make a difference in this world? And most importantly, will it help me to leave The Place where I no longer know who I am? Asking myself these questions is enough to make me hyperventilate.

(Image used in this post is entitled "Trying to Breathe" by LightLeaks, found on Etsy.)

A new year...

Since my discovery of The Place, a New Year has arrived. I ushered it in with a hearty toast (more of a prayer, actually) to much less drama! All the many changes and revelations last year were quite enough for awhile, thank you very much!

I recently shared with Dorothy and Alice that I am now looking for that elusive "something" that is missing in my life. What with all the upheavals and changes from last year causing me to cocoon myself here in The Place, I know I must emerge and grab hold of life, such as it is. But what is it exactly? I have a deep need to make a difference to someone or something. The problem is learning how to distance myself emotionally while making a difference. Is that even possible? Must what I do always be accompanied by emotional stress? My friends tell me not to worry. Something will come along, and I will recognize it. It will call to me, they say. But in order to best hear it, I must be emotionally ready. I must diligently maintain a positive attitude. Knowing myself quite well, I believe I will need some help in doing that! So I have been looking for something to aid me as I struggle to remain "up," disregarding those obvious traps into which I have often fallen. It wasn't as difficult as I thought it would be! Thankfully, there are those who realize that we all need help now and then. My discovery even fits right into the most looked-for event of my week! I'll serve myself and my friends some Happy Tea. It will "help move those blues away" and gives one an "uplifting experience"!! It's sold at Etsy by wildroot (botanicals) along with other herb-related products. Here's to a better year and a happier me!!

Falling...

Pain and heartache have been with me for as long as I can remember. Not physical pain, emotional pain. There were times when I thought I would die from it. Too many disappointments and failures piled up over a lifetime. Now I am here in The Place, and something has died. A part of me. Something that defined me in a certain way. Does that death constitute a failure? I'm told it is a natural thing, certainly an expected thing. Why has it been something with which I was not prepared to deal? Too much left unsaid by those who should have told me. Too many circumstances that brought this too early. It has created its own pain and heartache, and along with what was already there, I fell. I think I am probably still falling. Alice says not to worry, that there will be a stopping point. Is real life like dreams? Will I die when I hit the ground?

(Image used in this post is by DarklingWoods at Etsy and is entitled "Down the Rabbit Hole, Falling.")

Rethinking the beginning...

I wrote about the beginning of my adventure in my last post. However, I realize that it wasn't really a beginning at all. It could have been considered an end. It certainly felt that way for awhile. It might have been more of a change of direction along life's highway. I know it has changed me. It has caused an upheaval in my life the likes of which I have never experienced. It made me consider the scope of my life in terms of good and bad, ups and downs, and of successes and failures. Early on, I saw nothing good and no successes, only a series of failures that I could hardly endure considering. There was so much pain in the events themselves, and reviewing them was all the more painful. I think that is really how I found The Place. I was alone there for awhile, seeing that landscape before me and frozen in fear. It was only when Dorothy and Alice arrived that I was able to relax a little bit. I'm not usually good in social settings, but really, Dorothy is such an old friend that I immediately felt comfortable. I had met Alice once or twice, but that was many years ago, and I hadn't thought of her since. As companions go, I could not have found better. They have been able to draw on their own adventures and have helped my struggle in The Place to be less difficult. Don't get the wrong idea--it still isn't easy. I doubt it will ever be easy. I'm just hoping for less pain.

(The image used in this post is from BestArtStudio2 at Etsy and is entitled "Heartache and Poetry XVI.")

Let's start at the beginning...

Having nothing better to do one fine afternoon, I found myself drifting to a Place which I cannot quite describe. It was unusual, to be certain. Some might even say weird or strange. I felt, however, right at home here. Directly before me were swirling emotions and memories with which I could interact. The main area in which I stood was empty, much to my relief. There was a small table with chairs, and it was set up for a tea party, complete with place settings and names. Reading the cards, I discovered my own name. I was the first to arrive. I sat down and waited on the remaining guests. Imagine my surprise when Dorothy and Alice appeared. I took responsibility of pouring the tea while Alice passed the tray of biscuits. We had a delightful time drinking tea, nibbling on shortbread and sharing thoughts. When the tea and biscuits were gone, we made a pact to meet every week for afternoon tea. We realized that our time together had helped make sense of the craziness of our lives.

It is here that I have chosen to journal the time we spent in that Place in hopes that the adventures of Dorothy, Alice and I might be of help to anyone out there in dealing with their own crazy life. I will record our discussions as well as the projects we undertook. I hope you find them interesting.

(The image used in this post is entitled "Time to Begin," a mixed media collage. It is sold at Etsy and is by LaraBlair."