Are you going to blog about this?

F7DD0AC4-3725-48F2-B558-6D96A70C915A.pngApparently all you need to be happy is open arms and balloons.  Lots of balloons.  That must be what I’m doing wrong!

I had a wonderful holiday with elskan mín and my family.  It was really lovely.  I was going to write all about it.  But now it seems like a distant memory.  I’m not surrounded by balloons.  I’m not feeling like opening my arms. I feel like I’ve fucked it all up because I suck at being happy.

I was asked, accusingly, if I was going “to blog about this” not long ago.  And no, I’m not blogging about that. Or that.  But I need to write about this because now I’ve been plunged back into my native state of fear & anxiety and blogging helps.   Who knows why.  Maybe I should try balloons.  But I was also told, in a heated moment, that I’m “never happy!”   And this made me want to run. Hide. Die or dissolve into the ether.

People Being happy isn’t something I grew up around. My parents were both deeply unhappy people. I was a very happy child but being sexually assaulted as a toddler at daycare and then feeling abandoned by my father during my parents divorce a few years later put a huge damper on my happiness. I was depressed as a young girl.  I pulled my hair out in handfuls when my dad moved out. I know anxiety well. Fear. Depression.  Happiness seemed like a fleeting trick or something reserved for better people.

Being told that my deepest fear is actually true I really flipped out.  I started to just bolt but then stayed to try and talk but that didn’t go well.  When I get emotionally stabbed in my most vulnerable wound I am not good at staying calm or rational.  I probably don’t hear what the person is saying after clearly.  All I know is I’ve failed at just being a good, happy person and I’m humiliated that I ever thought I’d succeed.

Falling in love is amazing.  And I’m so in love. I want to make a life with this man. Which feels amazing. And also terrifying. It’s so much more comfortable to stay alone and accept that being kind of ok but very lonely is the best I should dare to hope for. But I’ve gotten out on this limb of love and I want it to work.  I want to be happy.  But I think I’m really shit  at it. I’m scared of being to happy. Bad things can happen when your guard is down. But not much can happen when your guard is up,especially when it’s made of 12 inch thick bulletproof glass and you’ve become so lonely you’re actually invisible.

There was a fight.  We will talk.  I hope things can be worked out. I hope my fucking hot flashes cease. I hope for things I dare not hope for and hate myself for it when it all goes wrong. But I want to learn to be happy and not self destruct because it’s more familiar. I want a life with love and connection and I hope I can build that, with elskan mín.  I hope I haven’t ruined things already. I wish I’d gotten better at relationships by my age but all I can do is try to be better now.

I’m totally  failing as a blogger because I was focusing on being in love. And when it goes wrong I turn here to try and get clarity, or just cope. But  I want to have both!  Certainly if it comes to it I’ll choose love for sure. I mean, I know my 44 followers will be fine without my intermittent rambling. And I’d be fine if things fall apart in this relationship but I don’t want to be fine, I want to be happy, as scared as I am.

But maybe I’ll get to have it all?

love is everything

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Love transforms everything it touches. I was convinced I’d never find love and have to spend my life alone, maybe someday being able to get a cat was the best I dared hope for.

Then I met elskan min. But at first I wasn’t sure… I was involved with both Ben & Ed, and I insanely thought that maybe it would go somewhere, with Ed at least. And I did like him, I liked them both. But neither were emotionally available in any real way. And neither were the perfect man for me either.

My dearest elskan min is so perfect for me. If only he was rich it’d be a fucking fairytale! But I love him and I think we’ll be able to make a lovely life together despite our collective economic struggles. We are a perfect pair, he makes me feel so comfortable and he’s so sweet and funny we are always laughing, kissing, cuddling, laughing some more.

I am so grateful that we found each other. Tinder is a miracle. It brought us together. He was wonderful to wait while I figured out that he was the one for me. He is so sweet to me I thank my lucky swipe every day.

If you’re struggling to find love, don’t give up. I found it, at the ripe old age of 45, grey hair, peri-menopause and all. If it can happen to me it can happen to anyone.

Don’t stop swiping. Or hoping. Love is on its way. In the meantime love yourself. And pet all the cats you can!

Bananas

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I am recently obsessed with bananas.  Not eating them. More with wearing them, & finding banana everything.  I hunted down banana print fabric and made my dream “Pilates pants” finally.  I’ve made a small collection of banana print clothes, photos will follow as soon as elskan mín has time off to help me document my emerging clothing line.

And I’m completely bananas for elskan mín.  We are a perfect pair. I am grateful every day that we found each other. He makes me so happy.  He is helping me remember that I’m funny and fun. He loves me, even things I thought no one would love. He does hate it when I interrupt him, a terrible habit I have that I’m trying to stop doing and since I really hate making him upset I am trying to remember to listen better even when I’m so excited to blurt things out. He makes me like myself a lot and also want to be better at the same time.  It’s everything I was wishing for.

Even if it seems impossible keep wishing. Keep dreaming. Be patient or impatient but don’t give up all hope. Keep a shred. Love can happen.

Even to a spinsterhag!

ode to Portland

I’ve been in Portland for a little over 4 years now, in my little dollhouse apt for 4 years as of October first. It has taken me a looooooong time to say

I like you, Portland.

This fall is just gorgeous. No rain, beautiful skies and temperatures. I’m also in love and life is going pretty well so that makes it easy to see the sunny side of life. But I am really liking Portland, finally!

It’s not love, but who knows? Maybe someday I’ll swoon over this town, weirder shit has happened. Like finding true love on tinder.

I love the clouds in Portland. I love all the trees, and the light on the leaves. Fall colors are pretty stunning here, if not like glorious Connecticu(n)t. I love the cats, you’ll see cats walking through many neighborhoods. I love the little metal rings that harken back to when people parked horses instead of cars. And the roses. I love the roses. It is known as the city of roses and they are everywhere. I smell them often.

I am excited about my life here, finally. I feel hope for the present and the future, which for me is a rare state, optimism doesn’t come naturally. I’m so grateful that I’ve found home, work, love and can feel some tender roots starting to sink down in this place.

And only 2 months until Iceland!!!!!

still growing…

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(whoever is the artist responsible for this, thank you. it’s gorgeous.)

 

My life has changed drastically in the past month. Since I’ve been back from my epic Iceland visit I’ve been so happy. I’m in love. I’m creating things, making my home gorgeous, organizing & decorating. And shopping. Must. Stop. Shopping.

I go through phases. And I can go through compulsive shopping phases. Dangerous. But fruitful. I’ve got some epic items due to these phases. But I need to keep it in check.

I’ve decided to make October an Official Stop Shopping Month for me. I’ll start tomorrow, and go through November 1. Then I may need to buy some Christmas gifts, but I’m really committing to stopping shopping. I’ve been collecting some divine vintage pieces as well as just adding to my fall/winter wardrobe but I have enough. For real.

I have a lot of clothing. A. Lot. I collect clothing. And hats.

I want to collect all manner of things. It’s in my blood. My mother was a pack-rat. My father was a hoarder. Epic, mentally ill level hoarding. It made me realize I had a propensity for such behavior. Now I have some perspective I also see that compulsive shopping binges may run in my family. I need to stay in check.

I went through several years of being so poor. Food stamps poor. Using paper napkins saved from when I could afford take-out as toilet paper, because food stamps can’t buy toilet paper and I had no extra money after paying my rent and bills. It sucked. I didn’t but anything for so long. Now I’ve made up for lost time. Now it’s time to save money, like the Bonus Pig.

I’ve also got to figure out what the fuck to write about now that I’m in a relationship and done dating, and relaying my hell and hedonistic adventures. Elskan min isn’t into being exposed here, I gotta keep on writing and find a new path. I’ve got some ideas. You’ll see them soon. Spinsterhag style will be coming. As well as Spinsterhag clothing. T-shirts will only be the tip of the Iceberg.

Will love destroy my blog?

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Nothing fuels creativity like emotional fuckery and frustration, right? Artistic angst is pure gold, for sure. But suffering isn’t required for brilliant work. Case in point, Björk. She’s amazingly creative and profoundly positive. She’s never really had an Amy Winehouse-esque phase. She’s real, fully emotional and empowered always. Not that I think I’m on the same level as Björk, obviously. No. Duh. But I have been on a real creative roll with this blog, but now I’m in a relationship so I don’t have dating disasters or bullshit to report. I could describe how Elskan min & I hang out, staring at each other and smiling like people in love, cause we do and we are, but ew. Gag. No one wants to read that, right?

Even if I get married, my spinsterhag heart will always live on. My old-lady-don’t-give-a-fuck jedi-voo-doo is building. I can’t wait to see how weird I get with age. The “Advanced Style” ladies inspire me greatly, as well as Baddie Winkle. I can see my future and it is fabulous!

I want to keep writing but I fear that it won’t be interesting, without the angst.

This blog will evolve. Like me. People like love stories, right? You’d think that people would have had enough of silly love songs, but I look around and I see it isn’t so. Love songs fill the radio. I can write about love. I got love comin’ outta my ass!

Ok. Love will NOT tear us apart!

Be in love & carry on.

 

 

Post 100! (how did I get here?!)

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This is my one hundredth post! Wow! I didn’t expect to get here. I certainly did not expect to be in love, in a relationship and so happy I smile for no reason, a bit less than 4 months after my first post. I met elskan min 2 months after the birth of spinsterhag, to the day. It was a weird start, with me dating 2 other dudes, although Benedict wasn’t really “dating”. Ed Norton was barely “dating”. My amazing boyfriend said “I don’t like that you’re dating other guys, but You’re Worth It so I’ll deal with it.”  That was epic. And terrifying. I had gotten so used to being jerked around by wild chemistry followed by vows of celibacy, or just the garden variety hot/cold/does-he-like-me?doesn’t-he-like-me? bullshit. Someone just upfront, into me and not afraid of a weird situation but willing to wait it out. Because I Am Worth It. It is amazing. And I am worth it.

It takes work for me to feel worthy. My dad destroyed my sense of self-worth, right at the time of life when I blossomed into womanhood. At 12. I hated my new body, and then I just hated myself. It took almost 20 years to really start to have a deep confidence, which comes and goes, but I am no longer so afraid of feeling good about myself.

I’ve struggled with depression since early childhood. I was really drowning in it when I started writing, but angry enough that I had some fire under the overwhelming sadness, some traction to create. I’ve been doing really well with my depression, blogging, bone broth and boning my boyfriend all seem to be the perfect prescription for me.

I am so grateful for finding elskan min. He is amazing. He is so sexy. So cute. So funny. He’s the best. The Best! Blah, blah,blah.

And despite the lovefest, Spinsterhag carries on. I can’t wait to see where it all is in a year’s time. Hopefully the book will be underway! And t-shirts. T-shirts are coming.