I have a question.

I have been spending a bit of time listening to talks of breast health/cancer/prevention/etc, that all focus on a more natural perspective – prevention and care, not simply the more invasive treat the symptoms kind of approach.

Now, no matter what your personal views on the subject may be, I am wondering, is it alright to stand at your front window, lift your shirt (while bra-less) and shout as loud as you possibly can “I love my breasts!”?

I’m hoping my neighbours think so.  Or that the snow is falling so thick today that sound and sight are not capable of penetrating through it.

Either way, what’s done is done.

ps – for anyone interested, the talks I have been listening to are from Rethink Pink and are well worth the time http://www.wishsummit.com/pinkribbon 


pit of despair – day three

September 30, 2013

Well, I’m out of bed.  Only cause my phone was going off repeatedly and it was really far away.  Future note to self: if I am going to make attempts to respond to the outside world via my chirping phone while depressing (yes, I am using the word ‘depressing’ as a verb – it really should be one, sometimes it’s the only way to describe it), anyhow, point is, remember to turn phone off or bring it to bed with me.

I’ve even managed to make a cup of coffee so I have some degree of functioning.  I guess that’s something.

I’ve gone and got broken again.

I’m not sure how many times one can get put back together.  After a while, don’t the pieces get too small and damaged; beyond repair.

I am on my own today.  It’s monday and everyone is back to their weekday life.

It’s amazing how old ways of dealing with pain surface.  Negative coping mechanisms you think you have overcome work their way into your mind.  Just one more thing to deal with and have to fight.

I remember how cutting into my skin used to distract.  How one pain could be traded for another.  How the trade was a relief; how it felt like control.  I don’t like how these recollections have surfaced as ultimately the pay off wasn’t good for me; wasn’t healthy; provided only a moment of relief; did nothing to help me get better long term.  So I remind myself I am here now instead.  By here I mean on this page.  I write my pain.  I am naked and exposed to the world, but it is the safer alternative.

I can’t have people on watch over me 24/7 (though all my feline fur ball friends seem to be strangely alert and keep checking on me) so I have to deal with the alone.  I’m completely sucky company right now anyhow.  I don’t want to talk.  I mostly stare into space, lost in my thoughts.  I cry occasionally and, just to mix it up, once in a while I hyperventilate.  Who wouldn’t want to spend time with that?  I don’t even really want company.  It just seems somehow easier as I don’t have to fear my own thoughts quite as much.

That’s all the words I have right now.  There are so many more, but they exhaust me.

I’m going to attempt to contemplate if being in the pit of despair is a better option than the bog of eternal stench.  Maybe it will distract me.  If it provides even a few moments of respite, I’ll take it.  I will take every teeny tiny little break from my thoughts that I can latch onto.

I really, most genuinely, hope that you are having a better day.  That you are having not only a better day, but a wonderful one.

Months since I have written and this, I already know, will be nothing but whiny gibberish, but I don’t care.

I feel like my world is spiralling.  Like all I have been working so hard for is not available to me.  It’s small and stupid and I am too embarrassed to even attempt to explain it as it’s that unimportant in the grand scheme of things, but that hasn’t stopped my (over?) reaction.

I miss the floor.  Sitting is energy I don’t have.  Tears have drained me, yet continue in regular intervals.

It’s all fallen apart.

I am not good enough.

I am not wanted.

I feel this is only partially deserved.

Nonetheless, my aspirations and all I wanted to learn, all the challenges I wanted to face, all I hoped for (but somehow knew I wasn’t getting) – all gone.  No way to change it.  And I don’t know how to deal.

I don’t want to talk about it, but I can’t stop thinking about it.  It’s a never-ending downward descent.

I am so lost and it hurts.

And I can’t escape it, can’t get away from it to deal; not without giving up what I love and that doesn’t feel like an option either.  Outside my family and kit kats, it’s all I have.  It all intertwines and cutting a small part damages everything.

I need help, but there is no help that can be given.

Seriously can’t get the song out.  Damn contagious musical episode.

This wasn’t meant to be a Buffy post. Yes I worship at the brilliance of Whedon… and I do love the show… and I have all the dvds… and the soundtrack from the musical episode… and I may have named my cats Buffy, Willow and Xander, but a girl has to draw the line somewhere.

My brain is mine Joss Whedon, and you can’t have it!!!  (Though quite frankly, no one wants to deal with the mess in there so I think I am probably safe.)

Any who, so it may be my own psycho stalker-ish chain of thoughts that naturally brought me here, but now I no longer remember where that supposed to be.  What the hell was I intending to write about in the first place?

I was kinda hoping if I kept babbling I’d find my way back to the beginning, but all I can recall was that I was trying to figure out where I was going (and not in a MapQuest kind of way)… and now the song is back again.  I give up.

Soooo….., resorting to video escape route for post gone horribly wrong.

Please enjoy this 20 second clip on the wondrous experience of successful dry cleaning!

And thanks, Joss Whedon, for contributing to my writing problems, but also leaving me a way out.

Sort of.

As some of my crazy comes to end I find myself confused, so I’m creating more.

I’d like to say, now that I finished the main re-vamp of my etsy shop and all things related, that I will find more time for balance.  Time for writing, eating foods that have pronounceable ingredients, smelling the roses, drinking wine,  you know, the important things.

But let’s be realistic.  That’s not happening.

So I started off this round of crazy trying to pick out a new juicer.  Many people would do a bit of research and then hit the buy button.  I turned it into a several day ordeal where I simultaneously read reviews, compared prices, watched countless hours of videos on YouTube, found comparison charts, and drove the boy and my parents (who attempted to visit me during my research marathon and therefore got caught in the cross-fire) absolutely batty with questions and my endless prattle.  If I hadn’t been so single-minded, I could have had some fun with my now batty family and got out the butterfly nets.  Opportunity missed.

Eventually I narrowed it down to two, but every time I thought I’d made a choice within seconds I would change it back and then find myself researching softer materials for walls… and skulls.

Fortunately, wine helped me through and took the focus off my aching head and I, finally, have a juicer on the way… an Omega 8006.  I won’t know for sure until I get her out of the box, but I think I’ll name her Beta.

Limited time for writing these days as I am in the middle of a major overhaul of my Etsy shop and everything related to it.  Am also preparing for an upcoming belly dance show and as always, battling evil (or fighting for it – I’m always so undecided, which could be why I never seem to make any difference on either side… oh well).

I miss having the time to write, but need to put focus where it is most important right now.

At the moment however, I have been side-tracked from all tasks as I watch my house fill up with supplies.

Spaceship building supplies.


I’m just staring as the boy brings in one item after another.

I’m also wondering what the largest butterfly net size is.

So that’s my night.  Hoping yours is only slightly more sane.


Reduce, Reuse, Recycle. Absolutely.

That’s why I am recycling a tweet I shared yesterday.

xander always really wanted to be a blonde

xander always really wanted to be a blonde

Plus, as you can see, I am way into finding perfectly reasonable and acceptable uses for things that would otherwise be thrown away (such as hair from another cat – just one example that randomly comes to mind). That’s like, super sustainable living.

I may have missed the reduction part of the equation which, I know, is supposed to be the first and most important step, but seriously, asking me to reduce my cats just seems cruel.  I can’t even believe you would suggest such a thing!  And no, I have no idea what that means, but I am sure it’s some kind of PETA violation.

Not cool people.  Not cool.

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