Big Changes

I know it's been awhile since I posted. Recently, my laptop, Midna, died. I'd tried to save here, but in the process of repairing the graphics card, I managed to damage one of the wires that let to the screen. I'd managed to fix the one problem though, but was getting no visual.While I know it's just a laptop, I was devastated.This was the first piece of electronics I'd been able to tear apart and repair on my own. My brother and sister had the same model and both died within a year.

While I now have a new laptop, Cadence, that I've both on my own, which is also a first, it's still not my Midna.

Aside from that, I've been kind of lost in my own depression and anxiety. I'll be moving in September into my own place. It's a nice condo with a master bedroom and a loft space. The loft will be used for me sewing room. I'm so excited for that but also extremely scared at the same time. I know I can do this. I know I'll be fine once I'm settled but between now and then...owie...

The main reason I decided to move, even though I'm not 100% ready, is because things with my mom haven't been the best. It's bounced back and forth but honestly, my sanity can't handle the constant mood swings and the blaming of other and nit picking of everything anyone does for her. It's taken such a toll on me mentally since my surgery last September.

Because of the things at home going south, my anxiety has gotten worse. I say one of my doctors, because my primary care doctor thought I was having a serious heart problem. After telling her everything that had been happening, she put me on a low dose of a heart medication that also helps with anxiety. For the most part, it helps. I don't feel like my heart is going to explode all the time. It's such a low dose that when I get to the point where things calm down, I can go off of it easy. There are still other issues I have but... I trying to focus on the fact that part of what's been causing me so much stress will be gone soon.

Hopefully I'll be able to get back to being my normal little self. Where I can curl up with Korick and Sakura Bunny and watch cartoons. My sippy cups can go in the dishwasher. I plan on getting kid dishes for myself. My stuffies will have there own place and so will my monster high collection... and daddy said that my sewing loft will be my little space.

On Names

I know I've fallen out of posting again. Which sucks because I got Pinkie Pie for Christmas from my Shadow Boo and I love her to bits. There has also been a new sleep in the last week with pink bunnies on it. Which kind of brings me to what I wanted to talk about.

Lately, It's weighed more on my mind about different names I've gone by or given personas or even what friends have given me. There are names I hold dear and some I don't share while others, I just live as. :) My favorite has been Sparkle Bunny, which a very dear friend and coworker gave me. Which until recently, I never really thought about just how much meaning that name had.

I'm a huge Sailor Moon fan. ChibiUsa being my all time favorite character. When she first came into the series, she acted very adult for her age (but if you go by the comics, she IS very adult for her appearance being 900 years old) yet was alone, scared and confused. She wanted her Papa and her Luna P went everywhere with her. No matter what, she was always going to be the little bunny compared to her Mama, Sailor Moon.

It wasn't until the other day when I was thinking about me being little and how I use Sakura Bunny as an outlet sometimes that it hit me. I'd bought a small pink rabbit, a chibiusa. So now she's being mini moon for Halloween since I'm to tall and fat for the costume :P. Then there is the pink bunny pajamas, which I wouldn't have bought the fabric for is my mom had not insisted that I needed it... which I did. Then of course, it goes back to that nickname at work, Sparkle Bunny or Bunny. In my mind it just stuck and it never really dawned on me why. In my mind, I'm now Sailor Mini Moon thanks to the Doll at work. But really, I think it's it's an unconscious gravitation to a character I related too long before I was every out of the tower as a little.

Not the best one, but one of my favorites.

There are, of course, the names Shadow boo has given me over the years. One which is tied to my shop, Sheria Nightengale. He really only gave me the first part, the second she had always had. While the name was used for rp purposes originally, she just became part of who I am. Same with her sister Sassy Pheonix. I know both bird names are spelled wrong, but that's become part of the identity over the 10+ years of using both names.While Sassy has faded more into the back, Shi is and probably will always be a character and a symbol I use until I'm gone. The name means something and I'll answer to both names when called. Some friends from older long gone guilds, still know me as Sassy. Because of Shi though, I'm still drawn to the silhouettes of small birds because I like to think they are all nightingales.

Then there come the names that have been given to me by people who've faded from every day life for one reason or another. While I think they are gone from memory, something will happen that brings that name to the front of my mind. For the last 2 months, it's been the name Seito.

Seito was given to me by a dear friend. A friend that we dreamed big together and just all around clicked with. Unfortunately... there are things in life that get in the way and suddenly those big dreams crumble. Things remain whether you try and bury them or not. Seito was the name given to one of my lovely dolls as a symbol of that friendship even. At the time, she was one of my best pieces. It's always weird giving dolls to boys though.

For some reason, she didn't like to be photographed. I have a lot that are just not quite right.

Every now and then I think of her, but had disassociated with the name. I had thought I had at least until I was on my way to physical therapy. I normally cut through the graveyard as a time saver and a way to ground quickly before going to heal. On my walk, I pass through the Japanese section of the cemetery. I run myself through drills of pronouncing the names to try and remember the little bit of basic Japanese I remember. Then it caught my attention, just out of the blue. Something I'd passed a dozen or so times before.

It is spelled SETO on the marker, but it's close enough I had to double take and still do months later. I haven't even gotten the courage to take a photo of it, which I thought I had by now. It's a rather large marker too. There was no reason to miss it, but I had until that moment. It stayed in the background of my mind, still there, but not dominating it. Then, within the last couple of weeks, I came across charts with the last name being Seito. Again, I was stopped in my tracks. The same charts keep popping up now in my work. Something needs to be scanned that brings me back to the memories tied with that name.

I have a rule about things showing up like that. The cosmos is trying to tell you something, no matter how hard you fight it, it's trying too.

While the name still has significance to what became a turning point in my life, I still try to forget the tie to it. Even this post was something toyed with until, again, the name was on my desk, staring me down today.

Then I reminded myself that names aren't always tied to all bad things. Words have meanings, both good and bad. Memories tied to them that are good and bad. There are parts of you tied to the name you where given by birth parents that are both good and bad.

I always think of the names as the different personas though. One name is me right now, which is also everyone's Sparkle Bunny, the Party Pony and Pinkie Pie. To people who know me, I'll be Sassy or Shi or little bird. My birth given name is one I just don't associate with, either form of it, but the variations that friends have come up with over the years, I will gladly respond to with a smile. They represent who I've become. They sparkle. They represent another turning point in life. No name you take every truelly dies, no matter how deep your bury it. It still clings to part of you, whether good or bad, it's you.

Right now though, I think I'm always going to be Princess Anastasia Sparkle Bunny Linnie Lou Who CooCooCachoo

Birthday Nails

Pinkie Pie inspired nails

I don't normally do things for my birthday. Since I was little, I've believed I was hexed. Bad things just seem to happen around my birthday, either to me or the people I love. After last year with the broken ankle and one of my cats being a problem child, I again thought that maybe, just maybe, this one might be different.

While I was 2 weeks out of surgery, my nail lady and I discussed having my birthday at the salon. They actually do do parties there. So, I set it up. I wasn't in my right mind when I did either so it never made it into my phone.

Fast forward to this week. I had no memory of even setting this up. None. Wednesday, family was asking about times and what not right after a day where I'd forgotten had a physical therapy appointment and how to do a major part of my job. To top things off, to calm down after the pt incident, I went for a long walk in my beloved graveyard. It was to much. I had a meltdown. I told everyone where to shove it and that all I wanted was a happy meal in a pink Draculaura bucket, an ice cream cake and to be left alone. So my sister planned my party.

It was wonderful. Miss Christina had cake and even got me a new little stuffed friend. There was wine... well I had half a glass, wine isn't one of my things. I wanted to enjoy time with my mom and sister and brother's girlfriend. I was happy and little and giggly.

Birthday goodies!!!

New little friend!

 The downside. The night before one of my sister's childhood friends took a turn for the worst. She's loosing her fight against cancer. Her birthday is on the 31st and if she makes it, she'll be 27. I told my sister that we can do my party another day. I insisted in fact because I knew she wasn't going to be up for it. She pushed that it was my birthday and since I don't party hard, the nail date was happening. Before we even left the house for the spa, my mom had a meltdown of her own and was miserable almost the whole time. There was a brief moment when she fell asleep that she seemed happy. Nothing could cheer her up. By the end of it, I was just ready to go home and take a nap and be done with the day.

My dinner wasn't much better. Talk revolved around death and how the sister's friend was fairing. Mom was still in her own little meltdown and then booze started flowing. So... I went into hiding. Shadow was over and hanging out with the men folk. I don't think he caught how shattered I was until late into the evening and that's when he decided I needed sake.

Today wasn't much better and I know Shadow tried. I'm not doing this again next year. What makes me more upset about the whole thing is that I was little. I was excited and happy and wanted this to be a good thing. I turn 30 next year and I'm not celebrating it. I'm not having my little girl heart shattered again because things fall apart around me and everyone feels like shit because they've ruined my birthday. When booze was thrown into the mix, it just made me feel more awkward around my family because I don't really care to drink. It really makes it hard to have discussions with people when they are mourning a life being cut short and your thinking of how awesome it would be to have a bed with guard rails. (seriously, I want a crib. Think of how awesome that would be! And how safe you'd feel!!! ok... maybe it's just me)

I need to make big changes for 29. Big, just for Ania changes. I know I pledge that every birthday, but this time it has to happen. My arm is healing, even though it's slow. I'm looking at it as a sign things will get better and that I can get back to that happy little carefree place again.

Another foot update

I have one of those big life changing blogs to post, but it's one of those ones I don't want to be more normal rambling stuff. So it's still in the works. I am due for an update though.

I was cleared to walk without the boot full time last Wednesday. I was ecstatic. I missed shoes and matching socks. While this did mean a funeral for all the single ones I’ve been wearing that have lost mates over the years, I really wanted to wear shoes again on both feet. I was told I could jump back in and not worry about it. Now when I told my physical therapist this, they were not pleased. There was concern; they urged me to get a light brace for my ankle and to still limit my time on my feet. Thursday was Thanksgiving. This is my second favorite holiday and not because of feasting (I HATE turkey) but because I get to cook, a lot. My turkey takes 24 hours in total. That’s from making the brine to having it carved and on the table. I ended up making the whole dinner. 5 hours of kitchen time, dancing and singing and all around enjoying myself. By the end of dinner though, I was in too much pain to even walk. I literally crawled to my room once out of sight of people. I was packed in ice and grounded to the couch until I crawled to bed later that night.

I was off my feet most of Friday. Saturday I did shopping with my mom, and again, pain crept up on me. Couched again with ice. Sunday and Monday I was suddenly having horrible lower back pain as well as my left hip and thigh breaking out in spasms of intense pain. I tried to blame it on other things, the makings of a kidney infection, the chairs at work, my shoes, ANYTHING but my foot.

Tonight at physical therapy, I was pushed really hard. I was pushed to the point I was in tears and flat out said that I could not do anymore. I couldn't do what they wanted me too at all. I told them about the back and pain in my leg and they said I wasn't ready to be on my feet as much as I normally am. I still have to take it easy.

I'm not a wimp by any means. This whole experience has proven to many people my pain tolerance, but it took everything I had to not cry at therapy tonight. Not just because of pain either, but because I'm so frustrated with this. I hate having a limit. When I got home, it was Mad Hatter jammies and teddy and once dinner is done, I’m back down with the heating pad.

My dad had brought up going to see King Tut next week and doing our Seattle adventure, but after tonight at therapy, I was told to not attempt it unless we drove and I not be on my feet for more than an hour at a time, maybe 2 at max. While there are other issues around things with that, I’m still rather devastated I might not get to see it. I’ve tried to not admit it to myself or let it get to me, at least not since my pity party in October. It's December and the holidays, I want to do my yearly shopping day downtown and get my favorite treats and walk the market and go to the toy stores and while I think I can swing it, I’m scared to go alone. I'm sorry this is such a rant, but everything is still so fresh in my mind. This hurts my heart and I want a cuddle.

Lazy Sunday

It’s Sunday morning and no one is home. I’m in my Tinker Bell jammies, snuggled in a blankie, watching something on archeology with my teddy bear Korick. My sippy cup is full of water down cranberry juice and have a plate of Ritz with pb&j. This is the type of therapy I’ve needed for a while. Quiet time, in the open and in a dimly lit room.

Korick

My room is set up as a safety zone, with my dolls and stuffies and books on display. But every now and then I want to snuggle on the couch and not have to worry about being questioned or made fun of about my sippy cup or my teddy. This has been something that has bothered me recently. With my current living situation, I can’t be Little as soon as I get home from work. Ideally, I would take a bubbley bath and play with my toys, get cozy in jammies and curl up with dinner and my laptop. I’ve thought a lot about moving recently and have actually had an offer to move in with friends. The more I thought about it, the more I realized it might not be the best situation. Again, I would be hiding this part of me, probably more than I do now. Ideally, I would love to be able to move in with my adopted Daddy. Even with things being on a friend bases currently, I know I would be protected and he wouldn’t mind me being snuggled up with a sippy cup.

The thought of being truly alone and out on my own has been on my mind a lot lately. Can I do it? Will cutting the ties with some of the people that have hurt me cause other problems? Will I become a recluse and only interact with people at work? Currently, I’m finding the later to be happening, but I’ve had so much going on around me recently that I’ve had no time to unwind and to be me. I’ve realized more and more just how important that is. Being depressed is not fun. It’s a place I never thought I’d be back in and I honestly don’t want to be here anymore.