Out of Avalon

May 31st, 2008 by Ascelyn

I’m sitting here in my church office waiting for one of our ex-students, KG, to email me back.  I hesitate to call her house because I know her family would be home, and they’re not too thrilled with me right now.  They seem to think of me as an instigator, the cause of the current problems.

I don’t believe that walking into the church kitchen one day to find her collapsed on the floor in the dark due to unbearable chest pain makes me an instigator.  Nor do I believe that I did something wrong by convincing them to finally take her to a doctor.  The pain has been going on for about a year now, and they refused to let her see a doc.  This was also a year in which she was cutting, talking wistfully of suicide, and literally hiding in the dark.

Well, now she’s been to a doctor.  It happens to be the same doctor I used to see, the one who called my joint issues “growing pains” and said my migraines were just from stress.  We all know how that ended up.  Anyway, this doctor says KG’s chest pain is heartburn and wrote her a prescription.  This was about a month ago, and I won’t even go into the things it took to get her there.  Regardless, KG’s been on the meds ever since, and the pain’s getting worse rather than better.  She’s also backsliding mentally and emotionally.

Her mother refuses to let her go back to the doctor or even speak about her medical issues.  Instead, she’s told just to “have faith in the pills” and that it’s just anxiety.

KG needs therapy, at minimum.  She’s so constantly wound tight that she’s in danger of snapping any second.  I can see her being locked away in a few years.  I don’t know what’s causing the physical symptoms, but stress alone could easily be doing it.  And her parents refuse to do anything at all.

I’m on the verge of contacting either her school counselor/nurse anonymously–they can pretty much force the parents to do something, and it’s then out of my hands–or meeting with them again and threatening to bring in Child Protective Services if something isn’t done.  I just don’t know.  I don’t know what to do.  I thought it was getting better, but then it got worse.  Better for a while, and now worse again.

KG has two older sisters.  Both have “issues.”  KG was once the most normal of the three, but that ended a year or so ago.  The oldest is my age (22) and is neither in school nor working, nor does she have any desire to do either.  None of the girls have a future–and that seems to be accepted as normal.

At this rate, I don’t know if she’ll even make it to adulthood before she self-destructs.

I just don’t know what to do.

May 28th, 2008 by Ascelyn

Not counting my cat, of course, who’s free to roam the house.  Or my husband and I when we’re working down there.  Or even the spiders that need to be banished now that it’s going to be a finished basement and not just a repository for random junk.

No, things like rather bats and large black snakes.

We escorted the bat outside, but think that it might have been living in there for a month or so.  At least it was cute; I have pictures, which will be posted when I can figure out how exactly to do that.  My (useless) cat had it cornered under the cover to the heat lamp, which was laying on the ground.  The less useless but still unwanted outdoor cat wanted to eat the poor thing, but I think I helped it escape successfully.  Or at least, that’s what I’m telling myself.

We only found the skin to the snake–which means it’s quite possibly still in the house, and even bigger now.

I freaking love West Virginia.  (Yes, almost as much as I love sarcasm.)

May 22nd, 2008 by Ascelyn

I tried to sew yesterday. I really did.  I went ahead and put Blue Stocking #1 together entirely and tried it on.  It’s just messed up, and I honestly can’t figure out how.  Obviously my spatial skills leave something to be desired.  As far as I can tell, I’m using all the right pieces and putting them together in the right ways, but half of the sole ends up on top of my foot, and part of the side wraps around to my heel.  In the end, I did what any tired, nauseated person would do.  I gave up and went to bed.

On the other hand, I made a double batch of bread last night.  Note to self:  Don’t do that, stupid.  Your oven only fits two cookie sheets, and if you want them all to fit, you end up making some strange little rolls to go in the corners instead of bigger rounds.  Or, just make big ones to start with.  You know, like the instructions said.

I’m stuck here for another 40 minutes, then it’s off to beat…I mean, teach the children and home to pack.  Sometime in between thosetwo I need to run to the market to get fruit and ingredients for the bridies, then actually make the bridies themselves.  Oh, and try hardboiling some eggs.  (Yes, Father dear, I know my last attempt was an unmitigated disaster.  I’ve got to try again sometime.)  If I’m particularly adventurous while the eggs are boiling and the bridies baking, I’ll fix the neckline of my old cotton undertunic.  The stocking adventures are over until after the event.  I’ll wear stained and oversized stockings on the main day and hideously modern tall dress socks the other days and be thankful for my long skirts.

Sapphire, here I come!

May 21st, 2008 by Ascelyn

Last night was the first of my two potential days to sew, at max, two pair of stockings, two sleeveless shifts, and a semi-fitted cote.

Last night I accomplished…nothing.

Not really nothing, not in the sense that I sat around all night and didn’t even try.  I managed to find the torn-apart muslin copy I’d used as a template for my yellow stockings, and I traced that onto the same rich blue linen/cotton blend from which my Norman gown is made.  I cut the pieces for the first stocking, stitched the leg piece and the part that covers the top of my foot, and tried it on.

It didn’t fit.

I flipped it around, trying to figure out what was wrong and how I could avoid having to rip out every single tiny stitch I’d sewn so far.  I finally just removed the part covering my foot and proceeded to hold that in every possible way to determine how it should properly go.  After all, that had to be the problem.  The leg portion fit beautifully.

It still didn’t fit.

Okay, I can do this.  I must have grabbed the wrong pattern piece.  I made multiple muslin attempts before settling on the current pattern.  But pulling on my finished yellow stocking, the piece seems to fit.  It’s likely that if I would have just finished sewing on the sole, it would have been okay.  By the, though, the movie Jason was watching was over and it was aready 9:20.  Too little sleep the last few days an a miserably nauseating migraine dictated that I not attempt to stay up late and finish.

The real kicker?  After patching up a few holes along the seams of my yellow stockings, I put them on one final time to make sure there was nothing else that needed fixed.  While nastily stained from the mud at the Celtic Fest demo, there are no major holes to deal with now.  But they also don’t fit.  I’ve lost enough weight that my only finished pair of gorram stockings are practically falling off my legs.

May 20th, 2008 by Ascelyn

It’s not that I don’t have work to be doing.  It’s just that I don’t particularly want to be doing it.

Okay, that sounds bad.  But I can’t update the equipment spreadsheet because the guy I need to do it with is out golfing (in the rain, because even that’s better than being in the office).  And those PPCBs I’m supposed to be doing?  I don’t have half the info I need, and what I do have is spread throughout three binders and four manuals.  And it doesn’t really need to be done for several months.

You see now why I always ended up doing my term papers in the few days before they were due.  As in, deciding on my topic and starting the research that week.  Sure, I could do it earlier, but I’d just sit there and stare blankly at a screen, knowing full well that I didn’t really need to be doing anything yet.  What can I say?  I work better under a small amount of pressure.  Just not too much, please.

What I need to be doing is prepping for Sapphire Joust this weekend.  Even after determining that I’ll probably just wear old t-tunics on Friday and Sunday, I still need two more pairs of stockings.  If I’m going to make stockings, I might as well make the shifts.  And if I’m going to make two more shifts, then why not make another undertunic?  It’s not like I don’t have plenty of material for all of them!  But I also need to make food, which can’t be done too far ahead of time like garb can, and I’m leaving Friday morning.  Thursday night is practically useless because of the kids, and yesterday was spent eating out and going to the theater for Jason’s birthday, so that means I have two days remaining.  I want to work late to make up for taking Friday off, so I probably won’t get to leave work until around 7:00.

Wow.  I think panic should start setting in about now.

I’ve also been staring at a partially finished email for several hours now.  Since Aaron will be staying with his grandmother, I’m going to be watching Mathilde’s two boys.  Sounds great, right?  It is!  I love her kids.  The problem is that she asked about compensation, and I don’t know what to tell her.  I’ve always sucked at this part, but at least back in high school I knew the going rate, and it was purely a business deal.  It wasn’t basically watching the kids of friends.  I’m confused, but I don’t particularly want to sound like a little girl and do the “whatever sounds good to you” cop-out.  And while I believe she’s a sewing laurel, and she has a wonderful web page with lots of nifty info on the fitted cote and the hood she made–a page to which I will not link here, because she could track it back and laugh at me–I don’t know her well enough to try to barter.  Example:  I really want a hood.  I have the whole thing figured out in my mind:  teal-ish linen, liripipe, with dags and silver buttons down the front.  I sat up all night once trying to figure out a pattern in muslin and succeeded merely in wasting a lot of fabric.  But I know she can do it, and if she would teach me, I would be oh so happy.  If it were Eadric and Sam, I’d totally trade babysitting for help with my hood.  But I’ve only even really met Jeff and Charlotte/Mathilde once!

Sigh.  Maybe someday I’ll grow up.

May 13th, 2008 by Ascelyn

I was pretty screwed up last week.  I think I cried for three days straight.  Sure, I slept and I ate, but that didn’t mean I had to like it.  Not only had I been more optimistic than I ever should have allowed myself to become (and certainly more than I thought I was), but it’s been a year.  A whole freaking year.  A year is like, the cut-off date.  I was bemused and mildly surprised after a few months went by, but we started this journey back in June ‘07.

In other words, there might be something seriously wrong here.

I de-lurked at on the Playground at Offsprung, and I got some really good suggestions there.  Things like looking back over my cycles and seeing if things alternate, and possibly seeing a masseuse for a particular type of treatment.  Well, I looked over things, and I’m beginning to let myself be vaguely hopeful before.  Some of the charts really make me wonder what was going on, and if nothing’s happened by my appointment in January, I’ll force the good doctor to look at them and see what’s up.  Otherwise, no obvious clues there.  I emailed the closest person offering the massage, down in Gaithersburg, and the fee for the first session is $360.  In case you can’t do the math yourself, that’s a lot of money.  Probably not an option, though I’d try it before being poked and prodded at the hospital.

I didn’t have much of any desire to attend Celtic Fest demo, but I dragged myself down anyway, mostly because I’d told New Local Girl she could ride with me.  I’m glad I went.  Time with friends is a great cure.

So anyway, I’m not a red-eyed, inconsolable mess of tears anymore, and I’m starting to look into my options.  Much as I want a baby RIGHT NOW RIGHT NOW RIGHT NOW, I can wait.  We’ll see what happens this time and go from there.

Which is to say, Mother’s Day this year was less horrendous than I’d previously expected.  Though as a side note:  it’s not generally considered polite to walk up to a young female minding her own business in church and wish her a “happy not-a-mother day, but I guess you kind of do stuff for the kids here, right?”  This is regardless of whether or not she’s trying to get pregnant.  It’s just crappy to do.  You also shouldn’t tell said young childless female that God blesses primarily women by giving them children, then try to hug them.  Gee, thanks, Pastor!  I appreciate the sentiment!

May 9th, 2008 by Ascelyn

LJ-XP isn’t working to crosspost to my Livejournal, so I’m trying Semagic instead.  We’ll see if it works on my computer at work.

May 9th, 2008 by Ascelyn

The pain is still here–emotionally, physically, all-encompassing–but it’s seems to be slowly ebbing away.  I have my tiny moments of panic, times when my throat closes off and my world seems about to come crashing down, but those slowly give way to a quiet sadness.

All around me, life goes on.  I checked CTRL+ALT+DEL this morning, forgetting the ongoing storyline about Lila’s pregnancy.  Seeing them in the doctor’s office took me a bit by surprise, but I’m okay.  A girl in the office had her glucose tolerance test this morning.  I’m glad everything’s going so well with her and her baby.  I’m still avoiding another coworker and friend, up in Jason’s building, because I know she’ll ask questions I can’t answer for her.  She does on a regular basis, but since she’s now pregnant as well, it’s harder to take.

I was angry yesterday, at what or at whom I don’t know.  Poor Jason–between the regular hormones, the seering, mind-blotting pain, and the sharp disappointment, I wasn’t a particularly pleasant person to be around.  I wondered for a while, and still do in the seconds when I’m falling back into panic, if I had been pregnant after all and lost it.  It.  My baby.  Maybe only a microscopic ball of cells, but my baby.  The pain is so bad! I tell myself.  Worse than it’s ever been!  And everything was looking so good!

But it’s not worse than it’s ever been.  It used to be like this most of the time.  I used to miss school for days at a time every few months because it would get so bad.  The pain is enough that I don’t want to move, to eat, to be concious.  Even as I write this, I’m forced to stop and double over in homage to the knife-wielding cramps tearing through my abdomen.  The world outside is hazy, and within is only the pain.

I will live. This will pass.  It will come again, and that too will pass.  Someday, this pain will give way to the unique pains of a child.  I can wait.  I don’t really have much choice.

I haven’t listened to the Newsboys in a while, but I can’t get The Tide out of my head.  When I finally quieted down and listened, I think I know who put it there.

 

Think I’ll wait for the tide
Seems it’s all I can do right now
There must be a reason
I’ve run aground
I’ll wait for the waves
To come
By the moon and the tide
Like a man and his bride
I will wait
On You, Lord
And we will run so far from here
To Your safety in the storm
There is courage for the simple man
To the holders of secrets and scars
Learning to stand with reaching arms
We’ll wait till the very last
No matter what will be
You’re always good
Always good
To me

May 8th, 2008 by Ascelyn

I had this whole post done in my head.  I was trying to figure out how to hide most of it behind a link–free for all, but a bit more modest for those who simply don’t want to know.  I even had the title entered:  “TMI.  Read at your own risk.”  Not clever, not funny, but accurate.  Because in it I would finally give in to my desire to talk about the driving force in my life the last week or so, the all-consuming question of the last few days.  I honestly, truly thought we’d finally done it.

I would talk about my temperature (because it went up reaaal high, and then plummetted at 9 dpo, at which point I totally resigned myself to my sad lot, but then it went back up to 97.9 the next day and STAYED THERE ever since, and squee much!), the test I’d taken this morning (and failed, but it was still early!), the constant pain of the last week in my lower abdomen and, yes, my breasts.  There, I said it.  Let the snickering commence.  And oh, the constant why-is-it-a-million-degrees-in-here? and the nausea and the lightheadedness.

I wasn’t letting myself hope.  But I was doing it anway.  I had my brilliant, oh-so-sweet plan in place to tell Jason as soon as I saw those double pink lines.  I almost got picked up Mother’s Day cards addressed to grandmothers for our own dear mums yesterday while getting a birthday card, but restrained myself.  I’m glad I did.

I found out between writing the title and starting the entry that it was all some kind of horrible plot between my various organs.  It was all a lie.  There is no baby.  I won’t be telling my mom on Sunday that I’m not a disappointment to her any longer.  I’m still broken, just in time for Mother’s Day.

New goal:  Not to cry and/or scream at people in church Sunday when the prying fools want to know when we’re going to have children, and why haven’t we yet, and don’t we know how?  They think they’re so funny, don’t they?  LEAVE ME THE (insert word of choice that I would never use here) ALONE.  You’re NOT funny, and you’re NOT someone I would ever talk to about this, and you have no right even to ask!

Newest goal:  To make it through the day and the evening with the kids (not mine, never mine) so I can go  home and curl up into a miserable little ball, never minding that curling up makes my tummy hurt even worse because there’s nothing in there.

May 6th, 2008 by Ascelyn

Once I make a dye bath, can I evaporate much of the water out and store the condensed dye for later use?

I’m finding many awesome things to dye at Dharma Trading Co.  I just need to figure out how to properly premordant with tannin so the cellulose fibers will take up the dye properly.  Then, it may be Etsy for me.  Plus, I have an ingeneous scheme for making those cute felt-wrapped soaps for nearly free:  biodiesel glycerin soap, free wool, free natural dyestuffs…. And it’s all either recycled byproducts of making biodiesel fuel or raising sheep for meat plus local weeds!  Talk about green!

Also, I might have a secret….