#f*cktober - A Cushion For Eden

**Potty Mouth Alert**

A couple of weeks ago, Beth from Babymac wrote a beautiful blog post for her friend Eden.  Eden and Beth are REAL life friends - meeting through their blogging world, but becoming face to face friends instantly.  I don't know either of them in real life, but feel like I've gotten to know them somewhat through years of reading their blogs.  Especially Eden's.  Eden writes like there is no tomorrow.  Sometimes, literally.  I have commented on her blog hundreds of times over the years, especially last year when I was going through a rather turbulent time with a family member and her battle with mental illness.  Reading Eden's blogs - her feelings, her perspective, helped me infinitely in trying to understand what my family member was going through.  I would tell them this, tell them I was trying to understand and trying to help and that I felt like Eden was helping me too.  Through her words.

Sooooo, when Beth put out the call to help Eden get through a really shitty October, I was very quick to answer the call!  Beth re-named this month #fucktober.  With a hashtag - cos everything needs a hashtag!  Now obviously, I was going to make something.  But what?  This is what I came up with.....

 

One of the most divine cushions I've ever made of course.  Eden has a "thing" for feathers.  So I printed out one of Quiet Play's arrow patterns and then turned to my fabric for help.  After half an hour of trying to work out colours, it hit me - WORDS!  So out came all of my text fabrics....

 

And with painstaking patience, I fussy paper pieced words in to the pattern.  Not just any words, but ones which have power and meaning.

 

I used this sensational Essex yarn dyed linen and pulled out some spools of 12wt and 28wt Aurifil I was sent.  Experimenting with the denser threads was really good fun, and I'm happy to report that it worked beautifully in my sewing machine, with a 40wt thread in the bobbin!  The texture in the cushion cover is amazing.

I was also very happy to discover that I had enough of this divine feather print for the backing.  I think it's perfect.

So, I sent this little present off on its way last week with a little note for Eden - Words are weapons.  Eden uses hers for good.  I have no idea if you have received it Eden, or if you even read my blog hahahah.  But I really hope you like it and that it puts a smile on your dial.

If you'd like to send something to Eden for #fucktober, you can head over to Beth's blog post HERE for all the details.  I don't think Eden's local post office will know what's hit them!

Where I'm At - A Little Old Mental Health Check In

As I sat down this afternoon, to finish off some Ms Midge orders, I felt really bad.  I felt bad because usually I have a reasonably quick turn around on orders.  Most of the time I let customers know that it will be around two weeks from order to delivery, and I can generally get orders sorted within a week - just to surprise everyone!  But lately, things have been very slow, and for that I feel like I need to give a little bit of an explanation.

Sure, the heatwave here in Melbourne set me back a bit.  Our new house does not have air conditioning downstairs, which in turn means sewing in my little room starts resembling an episode of a fitness program - with sweat in places I don't like to sweat!  

But I have also been dealing with some other time and mind consuming issues.

I've mentioned briefly in past posts that my gorgeous sister has a mental illness, and although I don't tend to bang on about it (because hey, let's face it, it's her story to tell, not mine), there are times I would like to shout from the roof tops.  Scream to anyone who will listen.  Instead, I tend to internalise things.

What I will say is that being the only child of three who doesn't have a mental illness, is not as easy as you would think.  For me, it has been heart breaking, frustrating, infuriating, sad, confusing and mind boggling.  There were times when I couldn't be around my sister.  I had to separate myself, as a way of protecting myself.  Because I would get so overwhelmed by what she was going through, that it would inadvertently bring me to my knees, which would then affect my own family.  I have explained this to her, and thankfully, she gets it.

I try to understand.  I try to put myself in her shoes.  But I can't.  A few weeks ago, I went and saw "Silver Linings Playbook" at the cinema.  I had no idea what it was about, until after I had bought the tickets.  I cried on and off throughout the film, and then sobbed the whole drive home. And afterwards I dropped past to see my sister, to let her know that I'm trying my hardest to understand and to learn more about her mental illness - but regardless of my lack of understanding (because I don't think anyone can truly understand unless they themselves have a mental illness) I would ALWAYS HAVE HER BACK......

Which brings me to the here and now.  I'm currently advocating for my sister.  I'm making calls, sending emails and sitting in meetings with her.  I'm speaking for her, when she can't speak for herself.  And I'm crying with her.  Crying for her.  Crying all the time.  If I had collected all the tears I have shed these past few years, I could break droughts.

What I want most right now is for others to see what I see.  To see the amazing person who has been flattened by her demons.  To see that although on the outside, she portrays to the world a wild, whacky and weird woman - on the inside, she is fragile, determined, a little bit broken and a little bit weird, but most of all she is WONDERFUL.  And to see that she needs help, support, love and understanding - not judgement.

What I want you to know is that people with mental illnesses have families, they have people who care for them, advocate for them and are frightened for them.

I'm struggling a bit to keep my head above water.  I have diagnosed myself with "sad-sack-itis" - something I find myself dealing with when I'm dealing with too much other "stuff".  So the Ms Midge sewing has taken a bit of a back seat these past few weeks, and will probably unfortunately remain there for a little bit longer.  I haven't forgotten about my lovely customers!  I HAVE ordered some beautiful Autumn/Winter fabrics with the hopes of making lots of yummy warm outfits for your littlies!  And I will be listing them for custom orders in small quantities.  There will be no mass production lines or mini collections like I used to churn out!  I'm hoping you will stick around and see what I can produce!

A special BIG thank you to those of you who have ordered this past month and have been very patient and understanding.  I really do appreciate it!

Soooooo..........onwards and upwards!  I'm hoping that by sharing this little piece of me, it will help lift a bit of the burden I'm carrying, and lift the old sad-sack-itis far far away!

xxx

To Medicate or Not to Medicate - THAT is the Question.

I have thought about writing this post for a few weeks now.  Sort of mentioned it here, but something always stops me.  I'm going to try.

When I started blogging, way back here, my little "tag line" was - "From One Un-medicated Mummy to Another."  Back then I WAS un-medicated, and still am.  But it hasn't always been that way....

I was told by my GP back in 1999 that I was depressed.  I was 24 years old and had a little baby boy who depended on me.  I can still very clearly remember returning home to my then husband and telling him that "The Dr says I am depressed".  His response?  "You're not depressed".  This pretty much summed up the support system I had at the time.  Zilch.  I soldiered on for a while longer until I decided I should fill the script for medication I was given.  It was only a year or so later that I realised I wasn't really depressed - I was really unhappy.  In the boldest move I would ever make in my life (I am was a chronic people pleaser) I decided I would take control, and left my husband.  Strangely enough - my depression left.  And so did the medication.

I was lucky enough to meet my fabulous husband - Andrew - about 14 months after that.  Bliss.  We have now shared over ten years together, and that unhappiness that weighed heavily on me has never shown its ugly face again.  For that I am grateful.

Regardless of my giddy happiness, and complete and utter fulfilment family wise, my dear old brain and its battle with serotonin have led me to medication a few times.  Well, three times to be exact!  It seems one of the downfalls for me whilst being pregnant, was that I felt like a crazed woman.  I couldn't control my temper, my emotions, my anxiety.  I had no control.  Over anything.  I was in the fortunate position of having a wonderful obstetrician when pregnant with Chelsea, and he suggested anti-depressants could possibly help.  And he was right.  They did.

I always made a point of explaining to people that I was NOT depressed.  Anti-depressants, for me, level me out.  They lessen my stress levels, my anxiety, and make me a little more "zen".  Throughout my last two pregnancies, a point would come where Andrew and I would have a conversation that went something like this....

Andrew - "I think maybe you might need to go and see the Dr?"

Me - "I think maybe you're right!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!"

I wish I had of had such insight back when I was pregnant with Lochie.  I was the same anxious, stressed ball of emotion back then - but did not have the support or type of relationship where it was acknowledged.  There were warning signs.  Like the time we got in to a fight (I was probably 7/8 months pregnant) and he locked me out of the house to calm down.  In the rain.  Not a good idea.  Let's just say I ended up kicking a glass door in.  Hmmmmm......should have taken that warning sign and run with it!?!

Anyway.......... The reason I am writing about this NOW is that over the past few weeks, well months really, I have admitted to myself - and Andrew, that I'm struggling.  Struggling with everything.  And unfortunately I take my frustration and lack of control out on my beautiful kiddies.  I've always been a bit of a "yeller".  Not something I'm proud of, but it's me.  When I feel like I have been feeling, I lose control, and I can scream like a banshee.  I hate it.  I hate myself when I'm doing it.  I hate myself after doing it.  

I'm super aware of the fact that mental illness is part of my family.  It's part of my genetic make-up. I figure I shouldn't put it off, so it's off to the Doctors again.

I have a LOT of people ask me how I do it all?  How do I have four kids, work, run a small home business and still have it all together?  I generally laugh it off and joke about how I manage.  I look like someone who has it together, but THIS is the truth.  I don't!  I'm not worried about it.  My darling friend at work reassured me that sometimes we just need a little help.  SO I'm going to get it.

My question to you - How do you do it all?

I'm Sorry Too

No....really I am

Joining Eden Riley again......and find myself really working on this blog post.  Thank you for challenging me Eden.... Here goes....

I'm sorry for not having patience.  I'm sorry for yelling and for not waiting to hear what you have to say.  I'm sorry I am not the kind of Mother who sits down and plays games and puzzles for hours.  I'm sorry I always left that stuff for Nanna to do with you.

I'm sorry for not fully understanding or "getting" your mental illness.  I'm sorry I have to check out of our relationship at times, to breath and not be overwhelmed,  because you are so overwhelmed.  I'm sorry I can't be with you in your darkest hours, the hours you spend awake at night because your mind is racing and your heart is broken.  And i'm sorry you feel so alone.

I'm sorry you "de-friended" me.  But I'm only sorry because you have missed out on so much since then.  I'm sorry that my daughter no longer has the god-mother she was given at her baptism.  But grateful that she now has an amazing woman to call Aunty.  I'm sorry I can't look at you every.single.day.  I'm still angry, frustrated and annoyed.  But I'm also grateful, amazed and in wonder of all the beautiful friendships that have taken your place.

I'm sorry I'm not a martyr.  I know how to say no.  So I do.  And I don't feel bad about it - most of the time.  I'm sorry I tell you all the things you don't want to hear.  I only speak the truth.  No bullshit.

I'm sorry I'm a hard task-master.  I don't mean to be annoying when I find that things aren't done the way I would do them.  Or when I don't understand why you wouldn't think to do the things that I think would be automatically done!  I'm trying to be less anal-retentive...

I'm sorry I ate KFC for dinner tonight.  Truly sorry.

I'm sorry I can't always shoot straight from the hip here.  I wish I was a blogger who could say anything without the fear that someone I know would read it and take offence!  But I can't.  It's not how I roll....