My mother, I'm almost positive, does not fully understand (or even care to understand) what my mental illness is like for me, and for my partner and child. Maybe it's a self-comforting thing, a defense mechanism, but it's getting pretty fucking old in the twenty-sixth year of my life. Somehow, my (too weird) hair, and my (too fat) body, my (too different) lifestyle -- I don't think my parents understand that they do not own any parts of me, although they had a hand in making those parts. Every decision I make "reflects" on them, somehow, even though I have a family of my own, and an adult life separate from theirs. I can't make them change. Anyway, it all boiled down to my mother wheedling away at me about whether or not I'm an able parent (I am).
Underneath that layer of nag was the unspoken but implied nag about how I expect to find a job with a shaved head (I don't). A job, other than perhaps some kind of work-at-home thing or something, is just not possible right now. I feel worthless just thinking about it. Admitting all of these things makes me feel like a stupid, disgusting failure. But the reality is, I can barely drive anywhere alone -- I can't even conceive of driving alone to work for any considerable distances. I can't go out into public spaces without risking an anxiety attack. Being sick, somehow, makes me inferior -- makes my mother think of me as a child who requires half-informed and, ultimately, useless nagging from a woman with a lifetime of her own bad decisions under her belt.
Enough bitching -- I know everybody (well, not everybody, but surely many other folks out there) has family woes.
I want to post about our craft! My partner and Baby J seemed to have traded stomach viruses of some kind, so it's been pretty iffy as far as progress around the house, but we did have a really pretty good time doing ....
The Monster Bag.
|The tote. Cost approx. 1.50.|
|Supplies (-the bag and a marker). Cost about 4 dollars, plus we'll be able to|
continue to use the glue and the pipe cleaners (the puff balls we used almost all of).
|Toddler with safety scissors: supervised.|
|Repositioned, head added.|
|Two eyes added. Toddler disapproves.|
|Three eyes are better than two, evidently. Outlined limbs with pipe cleaners |
and filled everything in with puffballs.
|Adding a gross, huge monster tongue.|
|The aftermath (plus a cat). Note the decorative foot.|