My name is Amy and I'm an addict

It's been a while since I've had one of my extreme yarn buying moments. I've been stash busting and trying to decrease my yarn consumption since the beginning of January. I'd call it a New Year's Resolution except I resolved to never resolve again so let's just consider the timing coincidental. It seemed like a good idea to detox a bit since my stash closet has met it's capacity and ultimately I would like a new car someday. I was doing well and even made a few things purely from stash.

Then last week I slipped a little when I bought some yarn to make a vest. Even then I planned to use some stash yarn in the vest too. I thought about it in advance and knew what I was going to buy for the vest, fully justifying my impending purchase. However, I saw some lavender Malabrigo when I got to my LYS and HAD TO HAVE IT! It was new and it was meant to be. I bought it along with the yarn for my vest and figured even though I spent over $100, I had a $50 gift card to make it seem less lavish. I managed to get through that experience with only a twinge of guilt which was almost impossible to feel when my fingers rubbed over that new Malabrigo. Yummmm.

Then came today. Never should I even enter the general vicinity of a yarn store when I'm pissed at my boss. Never! When will I ever learn. I just happened to be in Waterville about a half a mile from a fabulously stocked yarn store today. I told myself when I got out of my meeting there that I would just slip on over for a minute and buy 1 skein. I justified it by telling myself I deserved it for working hard for my money and putting up with the Queen of Lies and Back Stabbing for a boss. I was thinking about how soothing a soft, beautiful scarf that I could fondle (and possibly choke myself with) would be whenever my boss comes near me. So after all kinds of self talk and justification, I went. What I didn't expect was to walk into the store and immediately see those magic words written on the whiteboard "All hand knit yarns 20-50% off". Oh my. I immediately started to shake and get that sick nervous feeling inside while my thoughts ran into overdrive. I must buy, I mustn't let this sale die in vain while simultaneously the other part of my brain said "run, get out now, don't even look, JUST SAY NO!" I kept walking as if I was on autopilot, all the while feeling tingles all through my body and a small bit of nausea. I felt out of control and almost rabid as I began to touch the vast array of heartbreakingly gorgeous yarns. I made myself move slowly in a controlled way even though inside I could feel my heartbeat speeding up and my breathing becoming erratic. I couldn't stop. I have a problem. I need yarn, especially yarn on sale.

When I left I was slightly less shaky but now feeling like a closet yarn freak with a problem. I was carrying my bag wondering how I was going to sneak "that" into the house. My original plan had been to put the 1 skein I was going to buy into my work bag, heck maybe even my purse. I figured it would be days before Eric even knew about it. Usually he teases me about my incessant yarn buying but I wasn't sure how he'd react to another binge so soon after last week. When I got home I tried to smoosh the over sized bag into my work bag, after I took out a bunch of other things to make room. I casually walked in the house and set my stuff down. He's not stupid. He probably knew I'd go to that yarn store before I did. Maybe he knew I had a problem and didn't tell me, who knows. I didn't get into the house 15 seconds before he asked me if I went to the yarn store. I just hung my head in shame. I've never been addicted to anything before I got into yarn. First I started experimenting with the cheap stuff from Walmart and JoAnn's but after a while it just wasn't doing it for me anymore. I started going to dedicated yarn stores and picking out more expensive and luxuriant fibers. They just looked and felt so good! Before I knew it I was buying yarn just to have it, with no particular project in mind for it. How can something that feels so good be bad?!

In my defense though, it could be worse. At least its safe to drive after I've gone on a binge in the yarn store. That's a good thing too, since I'll probably never get a new car and can't afford to bust mine up!

I tried to deny I truly have a problem. I looked up the diagnosis of addiction thinking I may only really like (LOVE times infinity) yarn and if I saw the symptoms I might see that I don't really have a problem. Yeah right. I included the diagnosis here from freedictionary.com for anyone else out there in serious denial of their yarn/fiber addiction. You know who you are! Even though I have a problem I don't plan on stopping. Whenever I think of a car payment vs. buying yarn, the yarn always wins. If there ever comes a time when I get anywhere I'll just hang out in my closet and sniff the yarn.

Diagnosis (from freedictionary.com)
In addition to a preoccupation with using and acquiring the abused substance, the diagnosis of addiction is based on five criteria:
loss of willpower
harmful consequences
unmanageable lifestyle
tolerance or escalation of use
withdrawal symptoms upon quitting

playing with smilebox

Judgement Aside

It's been a while since I have posted any knitted projects here. I am always working on something even though my progress tends to be much slower these days. Recently my daughter turned 7 and for her birthday I made her and her doll matching hats. It was really self serving because she had commandeered my alpaca hat and wouldn't take it off except to bathe and sleep. I was hoping a new hat would replace mine, but she seems to be an alpaca girl like her mom. She likes the new hat but still loves the alpaca one. I'm just going to have to make myself a new one.

My 5 year old was insisting on a new sweater so I finally got to work on that. Not only was he insisting on the sweater but he was full of ideas about the colors and how it should look. He really wanted a rainbow sweater. I just couldn't bring myself to do an all out rainbow sweater so we compromised on the colors a bit. I tend to stick to basic hues and little to no color changes in my desire to "blend in" so this was a challenge for me. I had to keep taking deep breaths and remind myself that if it looked downright awful it would be okay. He is definitely his own person and really the only one in the family who could walk out of the house proudly wearing this sweater.

Now I am working (slowly) on a vest with fair isle for myself. It's worked from the bottom up so that's new for me. I'm already getting a little bored with the stockinette and thinking about casting on another project to work on a bit in between. There are so many projects and so little time!

Apart from knitting, I am still working through my grief over the death of Ashlee, one of my neighbors. She was only 12. For those of you who haven't heard the story there it can be found here: http://www.wcsh6.com/news/local/story.aspx?storyid=100128#comments along with my comment to the unfortunate people who felt compelled to judge this family. I just have to keep reminding myself that they aren't blessed with the knowledge I have

I was at a session with a therapist to talk about dealing with my illness when Ashlee died. I was full of thoughts about the talk and a metta chant I was given to practice as I drove home, blissfully unaware of what was happening near my home. I had no idea that many of the things we had talked about in that hour would be put into practice for an entirely different reason.

3 families were directly involved that night. We are a small neighborhood where the children play together and move about freely in each other's homes. There are things we know that only we can know about the families and about the events leading up to that night. It is heartbreaking to see the judgement directed at Ashlee's parents. It is time for judgement to be cast aside. I for one feel no power in anger and blame. It will take a long time to put the pieces back together again. Now that the funeral is over we all have to find our ground. Those 3 families need to figure out how they'll interact with each other and with the rest of us on the street. It is our job to embrace them and stand by them no matter what.

When the 10 year old who survived the crash came by with his mother earlier today I fully understood the crossroads we're at. It was never more important than today to welcome this boy into our home. My son was sick and yet I was filled with pride that he also understood the importance of playing with his friend regardless of how he was feeling. He seems to know innately that even though he wasn't with the others that night, he will play an important part of the healing process. The boy's mother didn't want to come into my house and I understand that. When I looked at her it was as if she'd seen a ghost, which I believe she has and will see for a long time. The fear of judgment was all too plainly there in her eyes. It is tragic that we've come to this. Grieving for a beautiful girl filled with potential while we figure out where everyone stands now. Nothing can be assumed now as we greet each other and look into each other's eyes.

As for the 13 year old's family, only time will tell. The story there is too deep and wrought with unfortunate circumstances for me to explain. I'll admit that I myself judged that family in the past. It was that judgment that kept us from allowing our son to play at their house. There was a time when Eric and I questioned our decision and felt extremely uncomfortable having to explain to them why we made that decision. We all make choices as parents and usually don't ever know if we were right or wrong. As the owners of the snowmobile that family will have their own set of ghosts or demons to deal with. It is more of a struggle for me to keep from judging them, but I am making strides and I'll keep at it. I've learned that sometimes judgement serves a place and that it can save a life. Yet I am seeing now the difference between making choices that you feel are best for your child versus being spiteful and holding a grudge. As for the others, I'll be there for that family too, if ever needed.

I may never be able to see the good in all of this. It is a harsh reminder that we never know what corners our lives will take. I'll just hope that my role in healing will be a positive one and that the pain will begin to diminish in the days/weeks to come.

"You are just as capable of making a mistake as anyone else. By insisting too eagerly upon a small right, you may turn it into a wrong against yourself and also against your neighbor." Lawrence G. Lovasik

What are you REALLY paying for?

Today I got home from work to a letter from the local free lawyer service, Pine Tree Legal. They help low income people with legal issues for free to save them from all the horrible people, especially landlords (like me) who would otherwise victimize them. The letter was regarding a previous tenant who is seeking compensation from us to the tune of $2000. Last spring she annihilated our septic system. As soon as the plumber began fixing it, her boyfriend began talking about how "the landlord is going to pay for this." This reported to us by the unfortunate soul we sent to fix the septic system, the same guy who was able to tell us what had really happened to the septic system to cause it to fail. The boyfriend who was ranting and raving was the same boyfriend who was living there "under the radar" because otherwise the tenant would not be eligible for Section 8. For those you not familiar with Section 8, they pay a portion of the rent for low income families. The portion they pay depends on the family's income. In this case, the tenant was paying about $33 for a 3 bedroom apartment. As a landlord I see a fair amount of single mother's with Section 8 who soon after moving in have the father of their child(ren) living with them and therefore are ineligible for the program. Hard to prove, but pretty obvious anyway.

After the septic system was fixed (that day), the tenant contacted a code enforcement officer and before he arrived, removed the fixed parts to create a scenario that would give the impression we had not taken care of the issues. They had told the person fixing the septic system they planned to take it apart after he left, so we had a little heads up on this one. Unfortunately, they did not put it back together so in the end the damage was extensive.

The tenant gave her notice and we had to wait 30 days before we could get in to even see what she claimed was so bad. Once we finally did, we found that sewage had gotten into the floors and the septic had not been working for some time because it had been taken apart.

We made a claim to our insurance company and the agent who visited was coincidentally, the same agent who dealt with the tenant's claim. Apparently, she had moved into a hotel, citing illness and unlivable conditions so the insurance company covered all of her expenses while she lived in a hotel. The agent was also faced with the boyfriend, who he had to tell to stay out of it because he "supposedly" was not part of the family. He too claimed to be sick and disoriented from the situation.

Our costs were over $10K because we had to replace the entire septic system and floors, rugs, etc. This does not even include months of rental income lost because of the time it took to do all of the repairs. We had heard through others that the tenant had contacted Pine tree and was looking to sue us, in fact that was the plan from day one. I have my thoughts about whether that was the plan before she even moved in, but that I'll never prove.

We waited and didn't hear anything for months. We assumed that Pine Tree did some leg work and figured out there weren't grounds to sue us on. At least that was our assumption before today. When we got the letter, we called the insurance agent who handled both our claims. Did he not tell us that we were covered from liability because she had gotten paid and it was the same insurance company? Luckily, he answered our call and verified that the request for this $2000 the tenant is seeking is "double dipping". He might have also mentioned that she's a "tool" (man, I love that word!) Anyway, I have a better word for it, it's called "FRAUD". And that's what I told the lawyer in the letter I wrote in reply to her audacious request for $2000 to cover the costs of temporary housing due to the septic system failure that the tenant herself caused. Yes, I mentioned "fraud" because I for one always call a spade a spade (in this case, the spade is actually a creature lower than prehistoric frog shit at the bottom of a New jersey scum pond). I also mentioned that the lawyer oughta call this agent for the full story and then kindly let us know when this issue has been resolved. To make it easier, I gave her his name and phone number, he's expecting her call. Perhaps I should have asked for an apology too...hmm but truthfully I'd rather never hear from this "creature from below the scum pond" again.

So its a long story, but in the end, this "creature from below the scum pond" bilked Section 8, Pine Tree, the insurance company and Eric & I. You may not care about Eric and I or the insurance company, but guess who's paying for Section 8 and Pine Tree! Before you think this story is rare, let it be known that I've been around social services for a little while now. I won't go there, but I'll also tell you as a landlord that I've seen many other sad excuses for human beings. For instance, a woman with 2 children with Section 8 who paid about $20 a month for a 3 bedroom, claiming the father of the children was involved but didn't live with her. What we observed was that he did live with her, he had a good paying job, they had 2 cars, a motorcycle, outdoor "toys", among many other possessions. We've had people dealing drugs, setting the place on fire, and outright stealing. We've evicted more people than we can count and the apartment building isn't even in a bad part of town. Many of these people accessed social service programs.

So, think about what you are paying for. I for one used to be a far out liberal, wanting programs for everything and everyone. I have seen the error in my thinking and have much different beliefs now. While I firmly believe we need programs to help people who are hurting financially or for reasons not of their making for example mental illness, there are too many people who are taking advantage of those programs by bilking the system. My strongest advocacy and support goes out to children who need every chance we can give them. No child deserves to be hungry, hurt or to live in squalor regardless of how dishonest and corrupt their parents are. I am advocating for mandates to be set and followed so we can save our money and ourselves from dishonest people without making the children suffer. Surely there must be a way because what these children are learning by watching their unlawful, blood sucking parents is not good for them or our future society. When Clinton was president he revamped the welfare system and instituted sterner welfare to work programs. Maine has staunchly resisted the mandates and sadly there are still people who are not working when they are physically able to, even after the supposed 5 year lifetime limit on welfare benefits. It's time for Maine to get with the program!

Knitting for Coworkers

I just finished a fun project for a coworker of mine...a roll of toilet paper. She's had a rough couple of months so I thought I'd try to cheer her up a bit. A few months ago as part of a slew of money saving changes, the toilet paper was changed at work to a cheaper brand. Let's just say the change was uncomfortable for most of us to adjust to, in fact I may have gotten a paper cut at one point but I never looked to be sure. My coworker, in a mad frenzy to literally save her ass decided to grab any of the old toilet paper she could find and hoarded it in her office. Some of us chose to honor her ingenuity by decorating her office with the toilet paper one day while she was out. This is just another installment on the toilet paper legacy.

In other knitting related news, my flair for legwarmers seems to be catching on. I will refrain from complaining that it has taken several years of relentless work for this to finally happen. At least my legwarmer craze was acknowledged by most of my coworkers. If you ask one of my closer colleagues to describe me, legwarmers will come up. While I am a closet legwarmer wearer in some ways (I wear them under my pants), I am open to discussing my love for them and showing them off when the slightest bit of interest is shown.

Recently a beloved coworker/friend of mine sent me a beautiful card with a dog wearing legwarmers. She then told me a story about trying to buy some small legwarmers for her granddaughter's doll only to discover at the register that they were doggie legwarmers. She explained that she couldn't for the life of her figure out why they would sell 4 legwarmers that were the same for a doll instead of two different sets. Unfortunately the price for a set of doggie legwarmers is a bit drastic, so the poor doll had none. That's when I stepped in to save the day. Not only was her granddaughter very happy with the legwarmers, she has sent me a message. "Thank you and my doll needs boots."

Shhh, this is a secret. I am beginning my preparations for a set of 4 legwarmers for her dog, Jenna. It is just the next phase in my all out crusade to bring legwarmers back out into the open where their beauty can be enjoyed by all. Waaa Haaa Haaa!

Love the tree...

...As you love me

Today was pretty uneventful. More specifically I was feeling too under the weather to notice much if anything eventful was happening. So I ended up packing it in and heading home early from work, hoping to just vegetate for a while and forget how lousy I was feeling while I waited for some pain meds to kick in. When I was home long enough for the meds to start working and my feet to start moving, I got up and noticed "a problem". My son's tree was lying on its side in the backyard. I immediately realized how completely awful this was and how telling my son would be almost as bad as telling him one of the pets had died. I also immediately realized that it was unlikely an accident that the tree was in its current position, remembering what my children had recently told me about the new neighbor children saying they had wanted to cut it down. At the time my son had informed them that it was HIS tree and that they could not go into our yard and cut it down.

The tree was obtained as nothing more than a small sprig when my oldest was less than a year old at the Maine State Parade, a parade that he and Eric were in. We planted it that year in our yard and a couple years later (when the picture was taken) we moved it to make room for some landscaping we were doing. When we moved here about 5 and a half years ago, it was transplanted again, here in the corner of our backyard. We have watched it grow into what was, until recently, a tree taller than our son! I regret not taking a picture this past fall with my son in front of it when I talked about doing it. That brings me to the moral of the story.

In the past several months I have learned more than I ever wanted about doing things and not putting them off. I can't begin to list all the things I regret not doing now that I never will, or even the things I wish I could do 1 more time, like dance, ice skate, run etc.

When I went out to look at the tree more closely, I saw that it wasn't cut at the bottom, but had been cut about halfway down, about 4 feet. I asked the neighbor child who was at that moment playing in our stream if he knew what had happened. I informed him that it appeared to have been cut, judging by the hatchet marks. He denied doing it, although I still had my suspicions.

I was unbelievably relieved that it wasn't gone completely even though it will never grow the same again. It got me thinking how much that tree is like me now. It will never grow the same but at least its alive and will still be special to us if we allow ourselves to change our belief about how its supposed to be. As Eric and my oldest went through their rage and disappointment over the tree, I stopped them to remind them its okay to be angry and grieve over it, but that it isn't a total loss. I shared with them how the tree is more special to me now because it can help remind us about accepting things in a new way, like me with my illness. I also told them in no uncertain terms can it ever be cut down now, even if it doesn't have the right shape. Eric agreed that we can help it grow into a new shape and helped explain to the kids that it will never have the Christmas tree shape we had planned for it but that will be okay.

That being said, Eric still went straight over to the new neighbors and told the mother what had happened. He was angry (very angry) but he kept his cool and showed the mother and the son the picture of our son with the tree. He explained how it is special and can't be replaced with another tree because of the sentiment its held for us and our son over the years. Again the boy denied it, so Eric told them that he would be calling the police to make a report. Incidentally, shortly after the policeman left our house, the mother showed up with her son to admit he'd done it and to apologize. Even though he did it, it helped make the situation a little easier to accept when he owned up to it. It probably also helped salvage a potentially bad relationship with the new neighbors, since this was our first and only interaction with them, they have only been here about a month.

I have to admit that I am making lots of parallels in the world now as I deal with this unrelenting pain. I am almost certain I will be diagnosed with RSD aka Reflex Sympathetic Dystrophy or more recently called CRPS. It is not a good thing and I tried for a long time to deny I might have it. There was a time when I was spending time every day researching all the possible diagnoses I could get. Believe it or not, I would actually try to choose some over others, thinking this or that would be better than this one or that one. It sounds pretty ridiculous but I guess being in this situation can seem ridiculous anyway. I would continue to "up the ante" and knowing it was a little worse than I had previously allowed myself to believe, choose one that was unthinkable a only few weeks before. I think it was my way of preparing myself for whatever would come and trying to have some control over accepting one thing over another. However, I had become well versed in RSD/CRPS and had refused to accept that one, even though it seemed eerily similar to my symptoms. In fact, I showed Eric some information on it one day that I had printed off and he thought I had made it up, thinking the symptoms and thoughts about it could have been written by me.

I haven't been diagnosed with it yet, but two doctors have brought it up and the last neurologist is going to test me for it at the end of February. I have wanted a diagnosis for so long but I really don't want this one. The odds aren't in my favor for it to be anything less than debilitating, even with a positive attitude and a will to fight against it. It was has been said by some to be the most painful of the chronic pain conditions. I have already gotten to the stage where irreparable twisting in my arm has taken place. I just keep believing that with the right help I can overcome it and stay positive. I am fighting everyday to let my brain decide how I feel, not my body. Some days its more of a struggle than others, but I don't plan to ever give up. I will keep feeding my mind with positive information and thoughts, changing my perception about how things should be and being satisfied with how they can be. That's what I can control and I intend to do that. My body almost seems like this separate entity, a demon, trying to take over, but I will fight it and ask for help on the days it seems impossible. There are days when I feel sad about losing the person I used to be, or the things I can't do anymore, but I don't dwell on that. I just have to accept the person I am now and not even fear what may happen in the future. This serves me well and has given me some release not only from that loss but from so many other ditty little things that haggle us through life.

Limping Along

Well, tis the season for sitting on Santa's lap. We took the kids to visit and get their photo this weekend.
I got a special surprise when two of my "other children" gave me a special photo of them sitting on Santa's lap. I laughed so hard it hurt. It doesn't take much. They really aren't kids at all, as the photo will tell, but I have the great pleasure of working with them and supervising them.


I have to admit that my previous optimism over my health problems has waned over the past few days. Unfortunately, I had placed too much stock and hope in the second opinion I went for from a neurologist in Portland. I realized too late that I had been expecting that visit to be the light at the end of the tunnel and hadn't really prepared myself for anything but that. He wasn't bad, but certainly not promising in delivering any more answers. He wasn't even willing to answer me when I asked outright what the worst case scenario is, and if the possibility exists that I could die. I don't spend too much time contemplating dying, but it does occasionally enter my mind that the longer I wait for answers, the further along something catastrophic could be getting. It hasn't helped that my current pain medications are starting to fail and I am struggling to even walk now. I have accepted that I likely have a permanent limp and I can handle that, but the pain is not something I am willing to accept. I use a cane to walk in the house and now have to seriously consider if I am ready to start using it in public. I also have a tremor in my hand that before came and went, but now seems to be here for good. The neurologist told me that I have carpal tunnel syndrome and even suggested that my tremor might be anxiety. That was just plain stupid! First of all, the fact that I have carpal tunnel is not even worth my time to think about. It is so mild compared to everything else that I could care less about it. Second of all, the only thing I even worry about is talking to doctors, since everything else seems mild in comparison. If it was anxiety, I can't help but think it would be in both hands, not just in my affected side. I don't believe I even have the ability to be stressed or anxious about life and work, even though he kept alluding to the idea that I have a stressful job.

I have learned to live in the moment and really think only about today, every day. I have found ways to be nurturing and available to my children that don't need much physical exertion. In a nutshell, I have LET GO of many of my own expectations and worrying about whether people think I am a good mother, wife or employee. That is one of the positive changes I have seen from all of this. For the first time I have realized what it means to really stop and "smell the roses". I sit more and listen to my children, watching and just letting them know that I love them. It's hard to believe that before I was so busy trying to be "Supermom" that I missed many of the really special moments. Yeah, my house isn't as clean, but overall it isn't bad. I just take shortcuts wherever I can. I am still hopeful (naive?) but discouraged with the doctors. I have so many things in life to be grateful for and I don't intend to let anything stop me from enjoying them. I am not sure what the next step is for me with doctors and testing, but I guess in a few days I'll figure it out and move on. For today, I will do my best to muddle through the pain and look forward to celebrating my birthday with Eric for a few days in Kennebunkport.