Hey, I was right. Double post!
I haven't managed to write in a while about how I've been dealing with my mental health.
To be honest, until recently, the words haven't really been there.
At the beginning of March, I started counselling, to see if it would help with my anxiety.
I'm not altogether sure if it's helped.
The counselling I've been having is supposed to be more patient led, which was odd to get used to. My therapist (I'm pretty sure her title is counsellor, but it doesn't look right when I type it. I'll just call her Ruth) is a lovely woman, who's been very attentive, and has listened to a small fraction of the crap than runs through my head.
Mostly, the last four weeks or so have been about looking at my relationships with people, and trying to extract myself from as many issues, that aren't my issues, as possible.
Bible sis's relationship with my aunts, following my grandfather's funeral. Sad, but not mine to fix.
Lil Monster and Bible sis's relationship. Upsetting, but my job is to listen. Bible Sis, as the older sister, should be in the main position to fix it.
Lil Monster and her reluctance to spend time with her dad. I'm here as a sounding board, but I can't fix it.
I suppose, in that regard, it has helped. We describe it as spilling the contents of my mind on the floor, and choosing a small section of it to clear up. Some things are clearer.
But other things aren't. I guess I feel like bigger things haven't been sorted through yet.
I suppose, despite knowing that it's not how counselling works, I was hoping to feel fixed.
I don't. My mind still races, near constantly. I still get stressed out over everything, and it still has a tendency to make me feel as though I'm being tied in knots over it all.
I still feel like I'm not doing a good enough job, looking after Wheelz.
I still feel like Lil Monster deserves a better older sister than me.
I still feel like Bible Sis and I will never truly get along, because neither of us wants to address the giant neon elephant in the room.
I still feel like my dad is disappointed in me and my life choices.
I guess a six week block of counselling isn't quite enough to deal with all of that.
I am grateful to Ruth, though. I've been able to talk some things through with her, clear my head over them, tidy them away a bit.
I suppose it's just a case of remembering that mental health isn't an easy fix. There's every chance that I will live with anxiety and depression for the rest of my life.
It's just a case of taking the help I can get with them, whenever I can.
Saturday, 31 March 2018
30 Seconds To Mars
I haven't posted in yonks again.
Whoops.
Things have been busy, there's been illness, appointments, yadda yadda.
I'm writing now, though, and I've a bit of time free, so we might even get a double post tonight. Who knows?
The other night, Wheelz and I went out. Like, out out. Months ago, we booked tickets for a band that we both love, 30 Seconds to Mars.
The concert was on Thursday.
As with any outing that Wheelz and I go on, there's always a lot of planning and prepping involved. We bought disabled tickets in the wheelchair space, so that Wheelz wouldn't have to conquer any stairs. We prepaid for parking, specifically on the right floor to be able to walk right into the arena. We prepped Lil Monster on staying home by herself for the first time - we figure that, being as she turns fourteen in two weeks, she should be able to handle it. Still, I was fussing like a mother hen. I briefed her on the contents of the fridge, so that she could get herself dinner. I wrote down phone numbers for anyone that she could conceivably need to contact (two aunts, my grandmother, a friend of Wheelz's). I figured if there was an emergency, she should be able to remember 999.
The drive in was fine. We found parking pretty easily.
We initially parked further away, but spotted a better space nearer the entrance. So I - me- I reversed our mini 4x4 out of the space, drove to the new space, and reverse parked it where we wanted it.
I know that's probably quite a small achievement, but it felt huge. I've not felt able to drive for about a year now, as my anxiety just made it too insurmountable. But I did it! I moved our car, on my own, with no one there to take the wheel if anything went wrong.
I was sweating profusely and my breathing was shallower than I'd have preferred, but I did it!
We made our way in, and were searched - apparently this is a new thing that Arena Birmingham are doing - before heading to our seats. I had kind of forgotten what it can be like, trying to get through crowds of people with the wheelchair. Some people are understanding, and will step aside for us. Others will stand resolutely in our way, forcing us to have to swerve through tight spaces, for no other reason than their own amusement. We eventually made it to our seats, got comfortable and took the requisite 'night out' selfie.
One of the things I'd been looking forward to was seeing a friend of mine there. We don't see each other much, due to my job, her job and our distance from one another. But we knew that we were both there, and kept an eye out for one another. We didn't actually get the chance to speak; she was standing, and spaces were at a real premium, but we did see each other. It's funny how such a small interaction made me so pleased.
The set itself was electric.
I'm not, as a rule, a huge fan of live music. I typically find it too loud, the environment can feel too close. I've only managed it for two bands so far; 30 Seconds to Mars, and Fall Out Boy.
But it was incredible. There were hundreds of people, so caught up in the music and having an amazing time. I got to hear some of my favourite songs, some of their new songs. It was just utterly fantastic.
The sad thing about concerts, though, is that they're fairly short.
You get this incredible high whilst you're there, and they're on stage. You feel completely at one with the people around you. You don't feel outside, or awkward because pretty much everybody there is there for the same reason as you; to enjoy the music.
And then it ends.
That euphoria follows you for the rest of the night.
Or, if you're Wheelz, you end up with what I've termed a 'concert hangover'. Unfortunately, Jared Leto's language seems to have rubbed off on her, and she's spent the last two days calling everyone a motherfucker.
For Wheelz and I, these nights out are rare.
They're expensive, there's a lot of stress involved in getting there, we usually have to find a babysitter.
And so, to us, they're special. We usually manage it once a year, maybe twice if we're lucky.
I treasure those nights out with Wheelz. Because for just one night, we get to be ourselves. We are able to ignore the bounds of disability, and mental health, and just be two best friends, having the time of our lives.
I have no idea when we'll next be able to arrange it.
I do know, that by the time our next concert reveals itself to us, Lil Monster will be old enough to join us.
I wonder if it will be the same?
Whoops.
Things have been busy, there's been illness, appointments, yadda yadda.
I'm writing now, though, and I've a bit of time free, so we might even get a double post tonight. Who knows?
The other night, Wheelz and I went out. Like, out out. Months ago, we booked tickets for a band that we both love, 30 Seconds to Mars.
The concert was on Thursday.
As with any outing that Wheelz and I go on, there's always a lot of planning and prepping involved. We bought disabled tickets in the wheelchair space, so that Wheelz wouldn't have to conquer any stairs. We prepaid for parking, specifically on the right floor to be able to walk right into the arena. We prepped Lil Monster on staying home by herself for the first time - we figure that, being as she turns fourteen in two weeks, she should be able to handle it. Still, I was fussing like a mother hen. I briefed her on the contents of the fridge, so that she could get herself dinner. I wrote down phone numbers for anyone that she could conceivably need to contact (two aunts, my grandmother, a friend of Wheelz's). I figured if there was an emergency, she should be able to remember 999.
The drive in was fine. We found parking pretty easily.
We initially parked further away, but spotted a better space nearer the entrance. So I - me- I reversed our mini 4x4 out of the space, drove to the new space, and reverse parked it where we wanted it.
I know that's probably quite a small achievement, but it felt huge. I've not felt able to drive for about a year now, as my anxiety just made it too insurmountable. But I did it! I moved our car, on my own, with no one there to take the wheel if anything went wrong.
I was sweating profusely and my breathing was shallower than I'd have preferred, but I did it!
We made our way in, and were searched - apparently this is a new thing that Arena Birmingham are doing - before heading to our seats. I had kind of forgotten what it can be like, trying to get through crowds of people with the wheelchair. Some people are understanding, and will step aside for us. Others will stand resolutely in our way, forcing us to have to swerve through tight spaces, for no other reason than their own amusement. We eventually made it to our seats, got comfortable and took the requisite 'night out' selfie.
One of the things I'd been looking forward to was seeing a friend of mine there. We don't see each other much, due to my job, her job and our distance from one another. But we knew that we were both there, and kept an eye out for one another. We didn't actually get the chance to speak; she was standing, and spaces were at a real premium, but we did see each other. It's funny how such a small interaction made me so pleased.
The set itself was electric.
I'm not, as a rule, a huge fan of live music. I typically find it too loud, the environment can feel too close. I've only managed it for two bands so far; 30 Seconds to Mars, and Fall Out Boy.
But it was incredible. There were hundreds of people, so caught up in the music and having an amazing time. I got to hear some of my favourite songs, some of their new songs. It was just utterly fantastic.
The sad thing about concerts, though, is that they're fairly short.
You get this incredible high whilst you're there, and they're on stage. You feel completely at one with the people around you. You don't feel outside, or awkward because pretty much everybody there is there for the same reason as you; to enjoy the music.
And then it ends.
That euphoria follows you for the rest of the night.
Or, if you're Wheelz, you end up with what I've termed a 'concert hangover'. Unfortunately, Jared Leto's language seems to have rubbed off on her, and she's spent the last two days calling everyone a motherfucker.
For Wheelz and I, these nights out are rare.
They're expensive, there's a lot of stress involved in getting there, we usually have to find a babysitter.
And so, to us, they're special. We usually manage it once a year, maybe twice if we're lucky.
I treasure those nights out with Wheelz. Because for just one night, we get to be ourselves. We are able to ignore the bounds of disability, and mental health, and just be two best friends, having the time of our lives.
I have no idea when we'll next be able to arrange it.
I do know, that by the time our next concert reveals itself to us, Lil Monster will be old enough to join us.
I wonder if it will be the same?
Saturday, 10 March 2018
Happy Mother's Day!
At this moment, it is twenty to one on March 11th, which in the UK means it is Mother's Day.
Over the last few weeks, I've noticed that this celebration seems to split opinions. I happen to be a member of a few online forums, Mumsnet being one of them. On Mumsnet, I've noticed two main opinions about Mother's Day.
One school of thought is that it is just one more commercialised bullshit day, created by gift manufacturers, restaurants and card shops to pry more money from our fingers. We should show our appreciation every day, rather than a token effort once a year to save face. Buying into Mother's Day is childish and selfish, etc, etc.
The other main thought that I saw is that there's nothing wrong with wanting to do something a bit special for your mother, be it your biological, adoptive, step mother, or even just a maternal figure in your life. What does it really take to buy a bunch of tulips or daffodils, and a card, just to show you care?
I'm more of the second school of thought, although I do think we should show our appreciation for the people we feel deserve it everyday.
I've been mulling this over, the past few days, to try and figure out my stance on it.
Ever since I was young, we have always done something for Wheelz for Mother's Day. This might have been a gift, purchased from a shop by either mine, or Lil Monster's father. As we got older, we progressed into handmade flowers sprayed with perfume, and then gifts that we purchased with our own pocket money.
It was just what we did. It was a day to be extra nice to our mum and to thank her for... Well, for being our mum, I guess.
More recently, I think that's changed. Mine and Wheelz's relationship is... Unbalanced, is probably the best way of putting it. Due to her disabilities, and my position as her carer, certain boundaries have been blurred and contorted. The traditional mother/daughter relationship hasn't really had a chance to exist, because life gets in the way. We rely on each other in different ways, and there are aspects of our relationship that would probably seem peculiar to outsiders.
I think that now, for me, Mother's Day is still about showing my gratitude and appreciation for Wheelz.
But now, it's a chance to reflect, as an adult, and thank her for the childhood she gave me. Things got severely jacked up along the way, but I never, ever doubted that she loved me, and wanted the best for me, and would have my back whenever I needed her.
Now, when I say 'happy Mother's Day' to Wheelz, I'm not only saying thank you for keeping a roof over my head, and being my mum.
I'm also saying, thank you for teaching me how to be strong enough to deal with the realities of life, and for letting me lean on you when that got to be too much.
I'm saying that I have a huge respect and admiration for the mother that you were when I was a child, despite divorce and stepchildren and so on. But I have even more for you now, for continuing to model the kind of adult that I want to be, even in the face of some major adversity.
I'm saying, thank you for being there for me, through thick and thin, despite how desperately hard some of the roads we've travelled have been.
I'm saying, Happy Mother's Day. Because you're my mum, and I love and appreciate you, and would like to take a day to celebrate you.
Not with the caveat of, I love you despite your disabilities, or because of them. No bullshit about commercialism or consumerism or anything like that.
You're my mum, and I happen to think you're pretty fucking great. So I'm going to take today to tell you that, and maybe spoil you a bit, because that's exactly what you deserve everyday.
Happy Mother's Day.
Love
Stripes
xx
Over the last few weeks, I've noticed that this celebration seems to split opinions. I happen to be a member of a few online forums, Mumsnet being one of them. On Mumsnet, I've noticed two main opinions about Mother's Day.
One school of thought is that it is just one more commercialised bullshit day, created by gift manufacturers, restaurants and card shops to pry more money from our fingers. We should show our appreciation every day, rather than a token effort once a year to save face. Buying into Mother's Day is childish and selfish, etc, etc.
The other main thought that I saw is that there's nothing wrong with wanting to do something a bit special for your mother, be it your biological, adoptive, step mother, or even just a maternal figure in your life. What does it really take to buy a bunch of tulips or daffodils, and a card, just to show you care?
I'm more of the second school of thought, although I do think we should show our appreciation for the people we feel deserve it everyday.
I've been mulling this over, the past few days, to try and figure out my stance on it.
Ever since I was young, we have always done something for Wheelz for Mother's Day. This might have been a gift, purchased from a shop by either mine, or Lil Monster's father. As we got older, we progressed into handmade flowers sprayed with perfume, and then gifts that we purchased with our own pocket money.
It was just what we did. It was a day to be extra nice to our mum and to thank her for... Well, for being our mum, I guess.
More recently, I think that's changed. Mine and Wheelz's relationship is... Unbalanced, is probably the best way of putting it. Due to her disabilities, and my position as her carer, certain boundaries have been blurred and contorted. The traditional mother/daughter relationship hasn't really had a chance to exist, because life gets in the way. We rely on each other in different ways, and there are aspects of our relationship that would probably seem peculiar to outsiders.
I think that now, for me, Mother's Day is still about showing my gratitude and appreciation for Wheelz.
But now, it's a chance to reflect, as an adult, and thank her for the childhood she gave me. Things got severely jacked up along the way, but I never, ever doubted that she loved me, and wanted the best for me, and would have my back whenever I needed her.
Now, when I say 'happy Mother's Day' to Wheelz, I'm not only saying thank you for keeping a roof over my head, and being my mum.
I'm also saying, thank you for teaching me how to be strong enough to deal with the realities of life, and for letting me lean on you when that got to be too much.
I'm saying that I have a huge respect and admiration for the mother that you were when I was a child, despite divorce and stepchildren and so on. But I have even more for you now, for continuing to model the kind of adult that I want to be, even in the face of some major adversity.
I'm saying, thank you for being there for me, through thick and thin, despite how desperately hard some of the roads we've travelled have been.
I'm saying, Happy Mother's Day. Because you're my mum, and I love and appreciate you, and would like to take a day to celebrate you.
Not with the caveat of, I love you despite your disabilities, or because of them. No bullshit about commercialism or consumerism or anything like that.
You're my mum, and I happen to think you're pretty fucking great. So I'm going to take today to tell you that, and maybe spoil you a bit, because that's exactly what you deserve everyday.
Happy Mother's Day.
Love
Stripes
xx
Sunday, 4 March 2018
Keto not working or me not working Keto?
You didn't really think I was going to be able to blog constantly did you? I did think about it, but I went down with a cold and a severe case of sloth-city, and therefore no blogging.
I had my CPAP review at the beginning of March. Good news? I used to stop breathing 89 times per hour when sleeping. Yeah, you read that right - 89 times per hour 😨😨😨 Now, its more like 4 - 5 times per hour (anything less than 5 is considered normal). They want me to get a better sleep pattern but are happy with my progress and my appointments are now patient led - basically, they don't call me, I call them if I need anything.
Bad news? I got on their scales expecting to see a drop. The last time I was weighed there, I was 182 kgs - that was in March 2017. When I started keto, I was around the same (so I believed). This time their scales said 191 kgs (including my boots - that's important, honest). So I had put on nearly 10 kgs in a year. I was horrified. Terrified. Sad af. Poor Stripes had to comfort me whilst the nurse I was seeing tried to figure out how to make me feel better (it could be worse, you know now so you can do something about it, etc etc).
We left the appointment and I had to put a smile on my face as Lil Monster was with us, as well as a friend, and we were off to see Black Panther (go see it - life-changing, Wakanda Forever). Loved the movie - had a great time - got home and basically curled up in bed and sobbed like a child. I think I actually cried myself to sleep, that's how sad I was feeling.
I've been following keto since the beginning of January. I think I've had a couple of slips - (I attacked Stripes for a chocolate digestive last week, it wasn't pretty but it tasted lovely) - and I had some baileys in my hot chocolate one night last week. But apart from that, I've been a good girl. No bread, potatoes, pasta, rice since the beginning of January. Spinach is my vegetable of choice. Water. Atkins bars.
Now it could be the Atkins bars - one per day as a treat since I gave up cream cheese cheesecake as I was close to over-dosing on it and I found it too moreish. They fitted into my macros - I was watching YouTube videos and joining keto groups on facebook and reading feverishly to see what I could do to make things work better. But the scales don't agree.
I've weighed myself twice since that CPAP review, and each time I've put weight on. We're not even sure it's physically possible and are seriously considering that the scales might say they can weigh that high, but they can't cope. But I don't feel smaller, don't look smaller, my clothes don't fit better.
So it looks like keto isn't working for me. Or maybe I'm not doing keto the right way. Either way, it's been two months and I've seen zero weight loss. So time for a change.
Stripes and I had a chat and I've decided to give VLCD another try. I was successful on the Cambridge Diet about 14 years ago - lost 100 lbs - but life got in the way in the form of my unsupportive spouse, financial devastation, physical problems - and the weight crept back on.
I've been watching YouTube videos to see people's experiences - to see if things have changed; and I've been surfing the internet to find the cheapest way to follow the plan. I've found a deal on Exante products, so have ordered 25 days worth of products and once they arrive, I will slide from keto into meal replacements. I want to stick to it for at least one month - if it's working, maybe I'll just keep going.
Terrified in case it doesn't work - haven't heard anything back from the Dr's surgery or the weight loss clinic. Terrified in case it does work - it was a mind-f*ck losing all that weight all those years ago. And maybe, tentatively hopeful?
Maybe you'll hear more from me as I go through this. No promises though.
I had my CPAP review at the beginning of March. Good news? I used to stop breathing 89 times per hour when sleeping. Yeah, you read that right - 89 times per hour 😨😨😨 Now, its more like 4 - 5 times per hour (anything less than 5 is considered normal). They want me to get a better sleep pattern but are happy with my progress and my appointments are now patient led - basically, they don't call me, I call them if I need anything.
Bad news? I got on their scales expecting to see a drop. The last time I was weighed there, I was 182 kgs - that was in March 2017. When I started keto, I was around the same (so I believed). This time their scales said 191 kgs (including my boots - that's important, honest). So I had put on nearly 10 kgs in a year. I was horrified. Terrified. Sad af. Poor Stripes had to comfort me whilst the nurse I was seeing tried to figure out how to make me feel better (it could be worse, you know now so you can do something about it, etc etc).
We left the appointment and I had to put a smile on my face as Lil Monster was with us, as well as a friend, and we were off to see Black Panther (go see it - life-changing, Wakanda Forever). Loved the movie - had a great time - got home and basically curled up in bed and sobbed like a child. I think I actually cried myself to sleep, that's how sad I was feeling.
I've been following keto since the beginning of January. I think I've had a couple of slips - (I attacked Stripes for a chocolate digestive last week, it wasn't pretty but it tasted lovely) - and I had some baileys in my hot chocolate one night last week. But apart from that, I've been a good girl. No bread, potatoes, pasta, rice since the beginning of January. Spinach is my vegetable of choice. Water. Atkins bars.
Now it could be the Atkins bars - one per day as a treat since I gave up cream cheese cheesecake as I was close to over-dosing on it and I found it too moreish. They fitted into my macros - I was watching YouTube videos and joining keto groups on facebook and reading feverishly to see what I could do to make things work better. But the scales don't agree.
I've weighed myself twice since that CPAP review, and each time I've put weight on. We're not even sure it's physically possible and are seriously considering that the scales might say they can weigh that high, but they can't cope. But I don't feel smaller, don't look smaller, my clothes don't fit better.
So it looks like keto isn't working for me. Or maybe I'm not doing keto the right way. Either way, it's been two months and I've seen zero weight loss. So time for a change.
Stripes and I had a chat and I've decided to give VLCD another try. I was successful on the Cambridge Diet about 14 years ago - lost 100 lbs - but life got in the way in the form of my unsupportive spouse, financial devastation, physical problems - and the weight crept back on.
I've been watching YouTube videos to see people's experiences - to see if things have changed; and I've been surfing the internet to find the cheapest way to follow the plan. I've found a deal on Exante products, so have ordered 25 days worth of products and once they arrive, I will slide from keto into meal replacements. I want to stick to it for at least one month - if it's working, maybe I'll just keep going.
Terrified in case it doesn't work - haven't heard anything back from the Dr's surgery or the weight loss clinic. Terrified in case it does work - it was a mind-f*ck losing all that weight all those years ago. And maybe, tentatively hopeful?
Maybe you'll hear more from me as I go through this. No promises though.
Saturday, 3 March 2018
Cake International, entries open
Double post today. The snow means I've got little to do at the minute.
I posted in November about Cake International, a big show that takes place at the NEC. We attended, and I entered one of the many competitions.
Entry has just recently opened for this year's event. It's a big deal this year, their 25th anniversary, and so the only CI this year will be in Birmingham. That's a huge deal, as it means it'll likely be bigger than ever.
I've entered a competition at CI for the last three years, and other competitions before that, including Salon Culinnaire.
But I'm really apprehensive about this year.
I think it's because of last time. It's not necessarily the disqualification that's putting me off, although it's not something I'd like to repeat!
I think it's the not knowing. A variety of circumstances meant that I wasn't able to get the judge's feedback, meaning that I still have no idea why I was disqualified. The idea of going back there, the embarrassment and the shame, means that it's hard to entertain the notion of willingly doing that again.
But at the same time... part of the reason I do it, is because it's something that's mine and mine alone. It's a way to stay connected to the creative path I started to undertake when I went to college. It's time that I put into myself, holed away in our spare room, creating. And it's not like I don't have ideas. I've had an idea rattling around my head since last November. So part of me thinks it's just a case of giving myself a shake and doing it. Right?
The other problem is...
For the past few years, Wheelz has gotten up at 6am to drive me to the NEC, so that I can drop off my entry. This is mainly because we live in Birmingham, and objectively, we're not too far from the NEC, so it makes more sense than me staying at a hotel nearby, for example. I've always been incredibly grateful to her for this, because it means there's one less thing I have to worry about.
But on the other hand. Is it fair for me to keep asking that of her? I know that she'd probably (probably!) tell me if she really didn't think she was up to it. But I also know that she'd try and make herself drive anyway, being as it's for me.
So does that mean I'm taking advantage if I ask her? Or is that me being ridiculous?
I don't know. I need to think about it. I don't want to cut myself off from something that I do genuinely enjoy doing. This kind of feels like something that anxiety could take away from me, and I don't want that.
So then, I should do it. Right? Just give myself a shake, and fill in the entry form, and get started.
That's what I should do.
That's what I will do.
I think...
I posted in November about Cake International, a big show that takes place at the NEC. We attended, and I entered one of the many competitions.
Entry has just recently opened for this year's event. It's a big deal this year, their 25th anniversary, and so the only CI this year will be in Birmingham. That's a huge deal, as it means it'll likely be bigger than ever.
I've entered a competition at CI for the last three years, and other competitions before that, including Salon Culinnaire.
But I'm really apprehensive about this year.
I think it's because of last time. It's not necessarily the disqualification that's putting me off, although it's not something I'd like to repeat!
I think it's the not knowing. A variety of circumstances meant that I wasn't able to get the judge's feedback, meaning that I still have no idea why I was disqualified. The idea of going back there, the embarrassment and the shame, means that it's hard to entertain the notion of willingly doing that again.
But at the same time... part of the reason I do it, is because it's something that's mine and mine alone. It's a way to stay connected to the creative path I started to undertake when I went to college. It's time that I put into myself, holed away in our spare room, creating. And it's not like I don't have ideas. I've had an idea rattling around my head since last November. So part of me thinks it's just a case of giving myself a shake and doing it. Right?
The other problem is...
For the past few years, Wheelz has gotten up at 6am to drive me to the NEC, so that I can drop off my entry. This is mainly because we live in Birmingham, and objectively, we're not too far from the NEC, so it makes more sense than me staying at a hotel nearby, for example. I've always been incredibly grateful to her for this, because it means there's one less thing I have to worry about.
But on the other hand. Is it fair for me to keep asking that of her? I know that she'd probably (probably!) tell me if she really didn't think she was up to it. But I also know that she'd try and make herself drive anyway, being as it's for me.
So does that mean I'm taking advantage if I ask her? Or is that me being ridiculous?
I don't know. I need to think about it. I don't want to cut myself off from something that I do genuinely enjoy doing. This kind of feels like something that anxiety could take away from me, and I don't want that.
So then, I should do it. Right? Just give myself a shake, and fill in the entry form, and get started.
That's what I should do.
That's what I will do.
I think...
Soap, glorious soap!
I've been saying I'll write about this for ages. So being as we're snowed in, I'll write a nice lighthearted post about our soap making adventures, as opposed to complaining about the cold, and our temperamental boiler.
Last year, when we found out we were getting our bathroom done, both Wheelz and I mentioned that we liked the idea of making soap. So we decided to give it a go.
I got a couple of make-your-own soap kits for Christmas, had a brief read of the instructions, and we set off.
The pictures aren't suitable for sharing.
Nah, I'm kidding. We had fun, and they turned out pretty well. Wheelz made a bright pink coconut oat soap, whilst I branched out with green pina colada scented soap. They looked cute enough that we were more than happy to send them out. I just can't find the pictures.
Since then, I've made quite a few more soaps. I made a batch with Lil Monster, and neither of us died, proving that we can spend time together as a family with no casualties. We made goats milk soap, in clementine and vanilla fruit varieties.
I've loved making the soaps. I like the creative element, and I also like the ease of it. It doesn't take long to make beautiful soaps, which look and smell great, and are perfectly functional. I also like doing something where the results are fairly instantaneous. With the soap kits we've used, you just melt the base, add scents and colours, and they set within a day or so. There's something very relaxing about making something where you can see it coming together and working before your very eyes. I suspect part of that comes from my background in sugar flowers. With sugar flowers, the end result is very pretty, but there's a lot of planning and uncertainty to get there. With soaps, if it looks right and smells right, chances are you're onto a winner.
We've been sending our soaps out as birthday presents for family, save a few that we're keeping for ourselves (or would be, if Wheelz hadn't stolen my coconut scrub soap!), and they've been well received. But even if they weren't, it wouldn't take away from the sense of achievement that comes from making something with your own two hands, and being able to see that not only can you do something successfully, it can turn out beautifully.
Last year, when we found out we were getting our bathroom done, both Wheelz and I mentioned that we liked the idea of making soap. So we decided to give it a go.
I got a couple of make-your-own soap kits for Christmas, had a brief read of the instructions, and we set off.
The pictures aren't suitable for sharing.
Nah, I'm kidding. We had fun, and they turned out pretty well. Wheelz made a bright pink coconut oat soap, whilst I branched out with green pina colada scented soap. They looked cute enough that we were more than happy to send them out. I just can't find the pictures.
Since then, I've made quite a few more soaps. I made a batch with Lil Monster, and neither of us died, proving that we can spend time together as a family with no casualties. We made goats milk soap, in clementine and vanilla fruit varieties.
I've loved making the soaps. I like the creative element, and I also like the ease of it. It doesn't take long to make beautiful soaps, which look and smell great, and are perfectly functional. I also like doing something where the results are fairly instantaneous. With the soap kits we've used, you just melt the base, add scents and colours, and they set within a day or so. There's something very relaxing about making something where you can see it coming together and working before your very eyes. I suspect part of that comes from my background in sugar flowers. With sugar flowers, the end result is very pretty, but there's a lot of planning and uncertainty to get there. With soaps, if it looks right and smells right, chances are you're onto a winner.
We've been sending our soaps out as birthday presents for family, save a few that we're keeping for ourselves (or would be, if Wheelz hadn't stolen my coconut scrub soap!), and they've been well received. But even if they weren't, it wouldn't take away from the sense of achievement that comes from making something with your own two hands, and being able to see that not only can you do something successfully, it can turn out beautifully.
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| Vanilla fruits, goats milk. Pretty swirled with pink |
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| Clementine and chocolate, goats milk base. Although, mostly clementine... |
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| Lemon and poppy seed. |
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| Coconut scrub soap. This was Wheelz's, but now she has two. Being as she stole mine, and all. Not that I'm salty... |
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| And last but not least, coconut oil soap. This went to Wheelz for her birthday, due to her obsession with all things coconut scented. |
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