Fifty Shades Of Purple And The C Word

On Tuesday I attended a group called Fifty Shades Of Purple at the Women’s Health Centre here in Boganville. I was most nervous upon leaving the house, and  barely awake as I was expected to be there at the indecent hour of 9.30am. The idea that a busy mother of 3 should be awake and functioning at this time is preposterous. Ahem.  I mean that’s what ABC kids is for, right? So I can sleep in.  Never mind that they have to be at school before 9.20am. Ridiculous .

To make matters worse there appeared to be no reserved car space for me directly out the front with a sign saying RESERVED FOR VANESSA CONNOR. Rude, I tell you. I had to circle the surrounding streets for a full 10 minutes with some arsehole tailgating me, frantically looking for a spot.  There wasn’t one to be found, so I was reduced to parking several streets away in the RSL car park. I reflected that it was odd that we were not members of the local RSL. Our bogan cred is in question.

Breathlessly, I finally arrived at the centre, late of course and was ushered into a room FULL of scary people.  There was at least four of them!! As well as the group leader/coordinator, who is also my counsellor.  Oh and there was a cute little dog, belonging to one of the ladies.  He was some sort of guide dog for PTSD victims which I thought was a smashing idea. And, yes, I should really stop reading Enid Blyton books at my age. 

Anyhoo, we all introduced ourselves  then the session went on to discussing negative self-talk. Apparently I am not the only person who has some crazy bitch talking shit to me constantly in my head. Who knew?

I also realised that I do ALL OF THESE THINGS:

·         Catastrophising

·         Exaggerating the negative and discounting the positive

·         Mind-reading

·         The ‘shoulds’

I have come to strongly dislike the word should and frankly find it most unhelpful in life.  Honestly that negative Nelly in my head with her catastrophic  crap and should, should, should all the bloody time just needs to SHUT RIGHT UP.

After we pondered on all this it was time for some morning tea, which involved coffee and biscuits which was  nearly as good as cake. Not  quite, mind you but the budget probably doesn’t stretch to cakies so I’ve made a mental note: bring cake. Mind you if I actually bake any cake to take with me it will probably be a miracle. (I actually did bake muffins and jam drops, but they have already been eaten. Oops.)

Then, just as I was beginning  to relax into the group, relieved that there would in fact be no bondage involved  in a group named Fifty Shades Of Purple, came the dreaded C word.

CRAFT

I quit Playgroup partly because I was so traumatised by craft. I never wanted to hear the ominous C word again.

We had to make a ‘Kind Card’ for ourselves.  I drew a dodgy flower on the front, then wrote BE KIND TO YOURSELF inside it and coloured in one side with crayons. Clearly I am an artistic genius who has somehow been over looked. The fact that Mr 4 could draw something MUCH better is irrelevant.

The strange thing was that I did find it oddly calming. So perhaps there is something to this craft caper after all. I survived it without feeling like chaining myself up to be whipped would actually be less painful.

Soon after this, the group was finished for the day and I filed out to wait for my next appointment. One of the other ladies was waiting for a taxi and we chatted and discovered we only live a couple of streets away so I offered her a lift for next week. There are six more weeks. I’m looking forward to it.

Yes, even the craft. (Shut up Randa and Poss).

Do you attend any groups? Enjoy craft? Do you also have a crazy bitch in your head telling you shit?

 

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I Need A Hobby

I must confess that the only truly obsessive interest I have is my fascination with Karen Carpenter/Carpenters which I have already confessed, and frankly, it's getting bit old (to everyone else, not to me). Therefore, I really need a new hobby or interest. So, for today's I Must Confess I thought I would share this old post exploring a few options.

I MUST CONFESS: I Need A Hobby

So I logged onto the computer the other day, like I do most days, and began chatting with an online (or imaginary) friend.

"What have you been doing?" she asked, as usual.

My answer is always embarrassingly similar.

"Not much," I typed " the usual, just hanging around here."

"You don't do much, do you?" she helpfully pointed out. "You need to get a hobby."

I reminded her that I already had this blog and my Carpenters obsession, so I don't really have time for much else, but she seem unconvinced.

Perhaps she does have a point. Maybe I do need a hobby. 

So I thought I would take the opportunity to explore some options. Here goes:

SCRAPBOOKING : I currently do have several boxes of photos waiting to be sorted, so I could benefit from this hobby. However, I fear that I would go and buy all the bits and pieces and then just end up with even more stuff, without actually ever getting around to using it. So nah.

My boxes of photos awaiting sorting and my one
pitiful attempt at scrapbooking from years ago

KNITTING: This would make me feel like I'm a hundred year old woman named Enid. Oh wait, I already do feel like that when I wake up every morning, so...maybe. On second thought. No. Just. No.

CRAFT: I only have two words for this. One of them is rude. You figure it out.

ART: As I mentioned in my previous post, I possess zero artistic talent, as my greedy brother stole all the artistic genes. Hmph.

PHOTOGRAPHY: Laughable. I can never even figure out how to charge a camera or remember to take one to occasions.

GARDENING: I really, really wish I could drum up an interest in this, but alas the green thumb genes skipped me too, much to my Mum's dismay.

COOKING/BAKING: Considering my love of cakies I could possibly get into this. I may have trouble getting into to all of my clothes though, which are already alarmingly large. Too dangerous a hobby for me.

PETS: I accidentally murdered my dog. Enough said.

TEAM SPORTS: Micky Blue Eyes finds it astonishing seeing an old family video of me as a child, on an overseas trip to Holland. Why? Because I was actually running through the tulip gardens.(Well, it was more like skipping,but you get the point) This aversion to running, combined with a pathological fear of balls, pretty much rules this option out.

POLE DANCING: Now we're talking! Definitely a possibility.  I can't think of a single reason why a middle aged, overweight woman, with recurring vertigo shouldn't at least give this a go. You only live once.

LINE DANCING: While I'm sure I'd rock the whole cowgirl, western look, my curious dislike of country music (considering my generally woeful taste in music) makes this option a no go as well.

YOGA: Or Breathing Up People's Bum's, as it sometimes referred too. I have tried this in the past, and didn't mind it, despite having zero flexibility. So I may go all hippy drippy and get into it again.

In the meantime, I'll stick to boring you with this blog.

 Linking up with Kirsty from My Home Truths for I Must Confess.

Do you have any hobbies? Are there any you would recommend?

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