I'm not here to please. Part 1

This is a both private and personal post, so if you don't want to read this kind of text, you are warned.

Almost my whole adulthood, I've been searching for my true self. I have also been battling with myself and always had the goal to improve and be a better person. My vision is, always be kind, honest, polite and show affection to the ones you love and care for.
Before I started this quest, to be a better person, I didn't care about who I was or how people might see me. I stepped on many toes, sprinkling snarky comments, too honest when it was unnecessary. I believe the change started when I got my first child. To become a parent was a spiritual experience and I thought a lot about the meaning of life.

Let's jump forward a bit. After my divorce and moving together with my current spouse, I got a severe depression. I really wanted to kill myself and had a plan how to end it. I believe that the reason was how people around me constantly told me how wrong I was. Exhusband, boyfriend, boss, coworkers, almost everyone around me had opinions about how I lived, what a lousy mother I was, my economical priorities, what I did or not did at work, anything and everything. Moving two different families together also caused a lot of cultural divergencies. My kids was unruly and spoilt, while I had raised them as free thinkers. It ended with a meltdown and a wish to end it all, because I wasn't worthy and hated myself so much.

I know it sounds horrible to be a loving parent and yet want to leave them forever. My self loathing was so deep that it said to me that they would do much better without me. Yet the thought of leaving them behind was at the same time not really an alternative.
I'm usually very strong minded and have lots of integrity, but anyone can get depressed surrounded by asshats. Fortunately my boyfriend forced me to seek help.

My rescuing angel was my therapist. She really was the person on the right position. She gave me tools on how to recognize angst, and how to deal with it right away. Medication also helped, it muffled the sound of the world screaming at me, or was I screaming on the inside? Whatever.

I still have moments of selfharming when I'm in situations I can't control and emotions run over me, but these moments are rare.

If you are depressed seek help, or call out for help to someone you trust. If you know someone who is depressed, please tell that person that he/she is important and useful and do not say anything that is negative towards this person or behave agressive around this person, no matter what he/she says.

The time it takes for a person to overcome a depression is long and uncertain. I still have problems with emotional stress, the caching memory is not very good and sometimes speak the words in wrong order or say the complete opposite of what I was ment to say. Imagine that in a classroom. LOL.
I have caught myself during these last 6 years of recovery, thinking that "Ah, now I'm free from depression, at last" and a year after...thinking the same again. Recovery is an extremely slow process, like ant steps. It is important to move forward though and not get stuck in bitterness or bad relations. A new career is also a good decision, eventhough it takes energy from healing.

Take care of yourselves, werever and whenever you are <3 p="">

Welcome to my lady cave

I know that this is a problem of luxury. But a door to close, to shut out noises and demands for attention it is luxury. 

I had a studio/craft room in the basement for several years, it was impossible to work there because it was too cold in the winter and during the summer, I had other things do do outdoors.

My work space was my desk in the middle of the house, in the hallway. 

Noises from the kitchen, the tv and the sofa behind my back and the path to the stairway passing me. No escape from noises while building my lessons for my classes, grading papers and completing my own university studies. It was hard, but I made it, with some melt downs and throwing books. Never the less, I made it...patting ones shoulder.

During this years, my oldest moved out to live with his father, full time. Johan grabbed that room for his own. It was necessary because I didn't enjoy finding small copper wire clippings in the bedroom, among other things.

Johans oldest, started to live more and more with her mother and the last year, her room stood unused. We politely asked her, if she really needed her room or if I could use it. So I finally got an opportunity to get my own room for work.

I really liked the white and beige walls and only had to paint over some spots, for refreshing. I carefully planned how to furnish it with my consisting desks and tables. 

When I tried one desk, i realized that I have to repaint all the furnitures after all these years of use.

 I actually fitted 3 desks, 1 table, 1 book shelf , 3 drawers and an armchair in this little room.
The desk with the white chair, is my crafting station. The desk with the computor is my working desk. This desk is a lovely 40's piece in birch wood but had to paint it because the colour of the glaze had turned it piss-yellow. The door leads to an attic closet. The pink table is my sewing station.

In the other corner sits another desk, were I will have my jewellery and metal work station. The drawer holds lots of hoarded craft supplies and junk. Thanks to all the drawers, I can keep the room tidy and not too cluttered. I also have a comfortable 40's arm chair for myself or visitors. My sewing dummy is embellished with bat wings. I have a full size mirror because I have moved my entire wardrobe to the other attic closet.

The photo above shows my sewing station.

The closet is not big and the ceiling is low, but it is enough for me.

I can finally store all my clothes, jewellery and shoes in one place. This makes it so much easier to plan and pick new outfits.

If you know me well, you already know that I'm a collector of vintage stuff. I haven't been wearing or buying vintage for a long time, but I also haven't got rid of my old things. The photo above shows the boxes with safely packed vintage clothes, and the shelves with hats, handbags and other things. 

The black and white photo is from my youth, when  me and my friends wen't to rockabilly events.

The clothes has been monocrome black for too many years now. Before I turned black again (I dressed in black in my teenage years), I always dressed in vibrant colours, like a peacock. I never had any special style but liked to dress up and mix styles. I still like black clothes, but I have to promised myself to not dress in black just because it's comfortable.

I love this room. I spend a lot of time here and I can finally find the peace to work and get the progress and pace I need to hold.

I love that it reflects who I am and what I like to do.