The Saga of Agent Double Gnome Seven: Part 6

Control, I seem to have found a repository for food...

Soul Search -- Part 1

Ok, things have been a bit stressful lately, as in the past three months.  My co-worker quit in April and my supervisor retired in June, leaving me as the only full-time employee, and pretty much the only one there.  Thank God for Sharon!  She comes in eight hours a week and helps me, and I don't know what I'd do without her.  The semester starts in two weeks...need I say more?

All complaining aside...

I decided to start seeing a counselor to help me work some things out.  I really like her, and I feel that our sessions will be very beneficial.  Previously, we have talked about how I see myself and how I think others see me, and how it would look if those two lists merged, in other words, how do I want people to see me.  (I think the real issue is how do I want to see myself, but we'll come back to that.)  Last week we talked about why I think I can't do things, or why I think people won't like me.  It sounded stupid to say it out loud and I almost felt ashamed, but I admitted that for me, it all comes back to my weight.

I have been hurt and disappointed by those around me, especially people close to me, and so I've built a sort of cocoon around myself to keep myself safe.  I have a ready excuse for anything bad in my life.  A person doesn't like me: it's  because of my weight.  Someone doesn't think I'm attractive: my weight.  I didn't get to do something: weight.  She looked at me and asked "so are you safe?"  Hmmm.  "Do you still get hurt and disappointed?"  Yes.  "So, you're not really safe then are you?"  No.  She looked me in the eye and said "you need to decide who you want to be, whether it's the same or different, but either way you have to accept your choice."

There is a quote which says that it is the same amount of work to be miserable or happy.  That may be so, but being miserable is familiar work.

Aaron Thomas spoke at our staff day yesterday.  He's the son of the late coach from Parkersburg, Ed Thomas, who was murdered by a former student in 2009.  He talked about how his father made a difference in peoples' lives, how he was über optimistic, maybe to a fault, but could make something good out of tragedy.  He asked us what kind of person we were, if we would be someone's call when they needed someone on whom they could depend.

Sometimes, in order to move forward, you have to actually admit, verbalize those things which you keep hidden down in your innermost self, so bear with me.

What am I really afraid of?

I am not afraid that people don't like me.  I know that people like me, perhaps not as well as I would wish, but they like me nonetheless.  I am not afraid that I am not good enough.  I am good enough.  I am intelligent, creative, and extremely capable and people know it.  I am not afraid that I am worthless and have no potential.  I am not afraid that no one could love me, a fat person.

I am afraid that people really do like me, because then I'd have no excuse to stay away from people.  I am afraid that I am good enough, because then I would have to live up to it.  I am afraid that I am worthwhile and have great potential.  I am afraid that someone could love me and my fat, lumpy body, which I have convinced myself is so disgusting.

I have taken all the horrible things in my life and used them to convince myself that just because a few people in my life have called me awful names, hurt me mentally or physically, that everyone feels that way.  All I see is my fat, so that must be what everyone else sees.  People ask me why I've not dated and I think to myself, "duh, I'm fat!"  In my mind, the answer to everything is, "because I'm fat."

But what if that wasn't my answer...

Up Cycled

I've got a good ol', trusty Singer sewing machine--nothing special, but sturdy.  We've been through  a lot together; years of 4-H, wardrobe malfunctions (ok, just tears and hems coming out), and my just not being able to find clothes that fit.  Unfortunately, something is a little screwed up, but the imbecile at the sewing center only wants to sell new ones, even though he is SUPPOSED to be able to fix old ones.  I just wanted the thing cleaned!

Well, we ended up ordering a new, pretty fancy one of of Amazon for a good deal and I decided I wanted to use it!

I see lots of neat clothes that I wish I could wear and one day I decided that if I couldn't buy them, I would make my own!  Enter comfy, baggy, gray men's t-shirt...

I'd had this t-shirt for AGES!  (I think I got it in 2000!!)  And it's really comfy, but not so attractive; perfect, I thought, for dabbling in up-cycling.

First step: remove pocket.

Second step: find the center of the side (on both sides).

Third step: baste a line from hem to about half way between the hem and armpit.

Fourth step: grab one thread and bunch up so that fabric is ruched.  (I did the same on the sleeves)

Fifth step: cut neck opening bigger and hem.

Laslty: EMBELLISH!

And  voilà!  You now have a stylish, yet comfortable, top for the cost of the time if took you and the embellishments.

Hmm... I am envisioning an entire up-cycled t-shirt wardrobe!!!

You're Never Fully Dressed

...without your smile!

My teeth are not stained, and I don't feel obsessed with having perfectly white teeth, but I have decided to try a little experiment.  I ready a pin about swishing with peroxide, because that is the main ingredient of whiteners.  (I've recently started having urges to go as natural as possible and not use fake, harsh chemicals and stuff.)  So, out of curiosity, mostly, I decided to try some peroxide and see if it does anything for my pearly off-whites.

Please note, if you try this at home DO NOT SWALLOW THE PEROXIDE! 

It would be really funny if it bleached my tongue....

Day 1

Update 8/1/12:  I gave up on this cuz it tastes like crap!

The Saga of Agent Double Gnome Seven: Part 5

Double Gnome Seven to Control--I think I may have found some strange sort of weapon...

Another Year Younger

Well,  a little over two weeks ago I turned 31.  Amazing how time flies isn't it?  I feel like I've been out high school for a couple years, but not for 13.  Hopefully, I'm a little wiser...hopefully.

On the plus side, I don't think I look much different.  People have thought I was 21 since I was 15.  I'm ok with that.

Winter 2011.

My senior pic.

I had a wonderful time celebrating for, I think, the third year in a row, with one of my favorite peeps in the world, whose b'day is the day before mine.  She is, in fact, an entire year older than me.  :)  My bday, just wouldn't be my bday without my Lins!

Another milestone, yesterday marks the one year anniversary of my Lasik eye surgery!

Hmm, what will next year bring?

I'm a Grown-Up Now!

Let me just clear a few things up before we start.

1. I am thirty, soon to be thirty-one.
2. Every cent I makes goes to college debt.
3. Yes, I live with my mother.

Ok, now that I've got that off my chest...

I've lived with my mother, except for some brief time at college and overseas, since I was nine, and up to this point, I have not minded.  Now, there are some interesting family dynamics.  My parents divorced when I was like eight months old.  My brother and I lived with dad, but mom was there to take care of us all day.  She was there when I got up and there to put me to bed at night.  I had a really good friend in kindergarten who moved away to Texas with her family as many families did at that time.  (Fisher Controls  moved a whole gob of jobs south.)   This started a trend in my life.  I had a few friends who either moved or we went to different schools, then later I had friends who constantly stabbed each other in the back...really a toxic group.  My point is, for a lot of years, mom tried to be my friend as well as my mom.  She really tried to make sure I felt ok and to build me up.

This really didn't work out well.  Bless her, she tried.  But we were so much alike, and we both had problems, and I was so depressed...we fought a lot.  We are both messy, at least together, we both stay up too late during the week and sleep too late on the weekends, and we both medicate ourselves with food.  I never had to work.  Not at school, not at home.  (Now, I've had jobs, I have to work to support myself, I'm talking chores/household stuff.)  Now I don't know how to keep a tidy home, and I had a hell of a time applying myself in college when I wanted to, because I didn't know how.  My brother was the genius, but I got by with pretty good grades and very little effort, so I didn't know how to dig in and really study.

Fast forward fifteen years.  Mom is still trying to be my best friend, still trying to make sure my life is bearable.  Over the last couple years, I really would have liked to get out on my own, have my own place, have my own life.  Unless I work five jobs, it's just not possible.  Lately, I've been getting restless, and for some odd reason mom has gotten very clingy.  I feel like she can't keep track of anything without me, although I know she is fully capable.  I think it's a subconscious way of keeping me close.  She's upset that my brother is talking about moving to Colorado, and she wants to keep me close.  I know she enjoys my company, but I think we have become too dependent on one another.

Today, it hit me like a ton of bricks.  I NEED MY OWN SPACE!

The other thing I've been thinking about is my faith.  I believe in God and I always will.  The problem comes with other people.  Perhaps some of it stems from the fact that I put my all into a church for about twelve years, it was my family, my life, and then all of the sudden, I can't even get people to return my phone call.  Then, Saturday night, I was hanging out with my fifteen year old cousin and we watched Joyful Noise.  (It was not bad.  Little slow in the middle.)  I looked at Queen Latifah's character, pretty closed minded, everything was very black and white.  Then you have stuff like gay marriage.  No matter how you or I personally feel about all things "gay", this country was founded on religious freedom.  Do we really have the right to tell people they can't get married?  (Ok, yes, there should be age limits, and animals should be off limits.)  I guess what I'm saying is, I don't want to be a cookie cutter person.  I'm not going to just blindly believe things because someone, even someone I trust and respect, tells me it's so.  And I don't like those people, like Queen Latifah's character, who are closed-minded in that this it's what's right, and that's that.

Maybe that makes me a bad Christian (I've never claimed to be a good one), but I believe what is more important is to love people, whether they are different from me, or not.  That is what is going to make a difference in people's lives.  I don't have to agree with or like someone's choices or lifestyle to love them and respect them as a brother (or sister) in humanity.  I understand why people are turned of by Christianity.  People get together talking about love and acceptance and holiness, and then treat other people no differently.  I am guilty of that.

At this point in my life, I want to have my faith and beliefs, and discover for myself the truth.  I don't want to be spoon fed.

I feel like I'm actually becoming myself.  For so long I've been someone to kind of morphs to be different things with different people.  Not that my core beliefs changed, but that used or didn't use words according to whom I was with, etc.  Time to become myself, and be myself no matter what.

And that involves having my own space.

I still love you mom, we just need to learn how to live without each other.