I'm Crying About a Sweater

May 17, 2019 by Kristin Purcell in Mental Illness, Clothes

It's true. I'm actually crying about a sweater. It's the sweater I'm wearing- my purple-grey, short-sleeve cardigan in a cotton-blend knit. It has this great "ladder" weave - I think that's what it's called- that's kind of chunky but not fuzzy or bulky. And the style is great- short rolled sleeves, a rolled shawl collar, dolman-shaped sleeves. But it doesn't hold its shape no matter what I do.

I got it when I was working in an office at Brown University, about 3 years ago. I was actually having a shockingly good reaction to the medication Abilify. 5 days at 5mg, and I was securing said job, soon working full-time and surprising my husband by not having a meltdown every 20 minutes. It was like a magical reprieve- I had no psychological issues, just blissful functioning and optimism about the future. It was at this point that I realized that my illness is clearly chemical. I've often doubted myself, asking whether I'm benefiting from being sick in some way. Was there some subconscious martyrdom or attention-seeking at the root of my disease? This experience on Abilify proved to me that the answer is no. Given the right chemicals in my brain, not only did I have no baggage, I thrived. I was unfazed by small slights, things that would usually send me into a tailspin. I actually started therapy to cope with the reality that I was better. It was such a huge difference that both my husband and I felt it a major life change. And then six weeks in, the Abilify stopped working. Apparently this is a common phenomenon with Abilify- after a few weeks, it just. Stops. Working. I started crying in the bathroom at work and eventually had to quit. I just couldn't get through the day without melting down and sobbing. That was the last job I had- after leaving, I applied for disability. Clearly my illness was preventing me from working (this was the second job of late that I had to leave due to my symptoms), and I was immediately approved. And then I spent two years chasing that Abilify magic. I tried every possible dose, going all the way down to 2mg and all the way up to 30mg, way above the usual dose for depression. And my heart broke every time it didn't work. I was devastated. Medication disappointment was something I'd been through before, but this was different. I'd lived the life i was hoping for, and then had it taken away. I'd had a glimpse into what could have been, and was then thrust back into my typical reality of debilitating bipolar II depression.

So this sweater was something I wore a lot during that blissful time of working full-time. I'd sewed on a button with a little snap behind it so it closed in the front. It was always handy in that air-conditioned office environment, and I loved the purple-grey muted color, the texture, the style. But when I stopped working there, it was shoved to the back of my closet with all my other work clothes. Short-sleeve sweaters are rarely practical for me, except to throw on in summer, maybe in air conditioning. I wore it this way two summers ago, when I was going through TMS- Transcranial Magnetic Stimulation. A new and experimental treatment seen as an alternative to ECT (Electroconvulsive Therapy), I endured the pain of the magnet hitting me right on my cranial nerve for 6 weeks. I had a line drawn on my head with a Sharpie so they could try to position the machinery correctly each time, though it didn't solve the problem of it hitting my nerve. I had to go off most of my meds for the duration. On a particularly bad day, I was threatened with hospitalization by the attending doctor. Between sessions, I would shop. Thrifting for Ebay or Thredup resale items became my addiction, my source of dopamine. I wore that sweater in the cold, air-conditioned Salvation Army for hours at a stretch, stopping only for coffee or because they were closing. But the thing about this sweater is that it never looked the way it did in my mind. I had this idea of it as a cool, edgy, chunky knit with a slouchy feel and a shawl collar. In reality, the collar never stayed rolled over and the sleeves constantly unrolled themselves too. The dolman sleeve has never done me any favors (something I'm only now realizing) and from the back it just made me look big and kind of hunched over. I recently stitched the sleeves so they were permanently rolled and stitched the collar permanently into a shawl style. So now it looks like some kind of Frankenstein's monster in order to hold its shape, and it still doesn't fall right. It still doesn't work. It's time to let it go. But I keep questioning myself- I love the color, the texture, the idea behind it... But it doesn't work. Just the way the Abilify ultimately didn't work. Just like the TMS didn't work. Just like Ketamine treatments didn't work and Vraylar didn't work and Adderall didn't work and Seroquel didn't work and Lithium didn't work and Effexor didn't work and Prozac didn't work and Cymbalta didn't work and Viibrid didn't work and Pristiq didn't work and Topomax didn't work and Xanax didn't work and Rexulti didn't work and Medical Marijuana didn't work. Just like that. So I'm sad.

Capsule Decluttering for Weight Loss

May 15, 2019 by Kristin Purcell in Clothes, Minimalism, Capsule Wardrobe

Since adding so many pieces to my capsule, I finally feel at liberty to scale back on the things that are just too big.

1. Fashion To Figure black pull-on pants. Now that I have my Ann Taylor black trousers, I no longer need these as an option for dressy occasions. I always imagined that if something came up, I'd wear them with my black oversized silky blouse. The trousers are definitely a step up, so the 100% polyester pull-on pants are out.

2. Lands' End trouser jeans in size 20. I put these in the dryer to shrink them up a bit, but they are still too big in the waist at this point.

3. Black skinny D. Jeans in 18W. These don't stay up.

4. Blue skinny D. Jeans in 18W. Same. I have some remorse over buying these two pairs of skinny jeans for what turned out to be a relatively short period of time. Surely I could have gotten by on my joggers for the end of the winter, but in terms of cost-per-wear, at $19.99 a pair, they weren't such a huge mistake.

5. Men's Old Navy khakis (thrifted). Such a recent purchase that I feel ridiculous getting rid of them already. But the more loose-fitting they got, the more oddly oversized they became. It was as if the waist was tight but then the pants ballooned out and created a lower body potato shape. Highly unflattering, but only a $3 mistake- plus they were thrifted, so environmentally sound.

6. Black open cardigan (99 Jane Street). This just came out of storage, but has already proven to be not worth wearing. I reached for it today, but the full coating of my long hair on the back and the ratty-looking pilling made me recoil. Sometimes acrylic sweaters are lovely and soft. This one is not. It's surprisingly itchy for not having any wool in it, and it doesn't breathe, so it makes you sweaty.

7. Burgundy Lands' End short-sleeve cardigan (thrifted). This was a tough call, especially since it's a fairly new addition. But the fit is suddenly looking way too oversized. I love oversized clothing, but there is a point where it just makes you look bigger than you are. Oversized clothes have to have the right shape to work on your body, and this one doesn't have that shape. It's also bulky but short-sleeved, so tricky weather-wise, and the color kind of says "Lands' End" to me, and not in a good way.

8. Green Cable and Gauge sweater with exposed back zipper (3X). I put this on today since it's too warm for cashmere, but when I looked in the mirror I thought I resembled a mountain. My husband agreed that it made me look bigger than I am. I deliberated over it, considering my penchant for oversized things. But again, there's a point where something looks just too big instead of cool and drapey.

9. Purpley-grey short-sleeve cardigan (Sonoma). This one is a heart-breaker. I love the color and the idea of it, but it just doesn't work in the end, despite great effort and alterations.

10. Four LOFT Swing Tees. These have not technically been in my capsule, but they’ve been hanging around waiting for a final verdict. I tried wearing a couple of them out in the world, but I still find them unflattering and too short in front. The white one which I DIY-ed with elastic in the hem hasn’t thrilled me- the front is just too short- so that one is included in this batch of decluttering.

This round of decluttering leaves me with 30 items in my capsule, down from 39, which makes getting dressed easier. I've been finding it difficult to get dressed with so many items in front of me, especially when everything is under consideration for the chopping block. I've really just been wearing my grey men's pants or my blue ones with a T-shirt and some layers. The tan anorak jacket is really coming in handy with the weather warming up and the LOFT oatmeal cotton sweater will be a great replacement for the green Cable and Gauge one as a lightweight option. Some lace bralettes have become my everyday staples, as they're comfortable enough but don't make my boobs look worse than just going braless (which many bralettes and sports bras can do). Overall, though, this round of clearing out makes me question how often it's worth buying clothes when you're gaining or losing weight. It may help your confidence to have a great wardrobe during a weight change, but I wonder if maybe I could've gotten by on an even more minimalist capsule at my higher weight. And how do you know when something is suddenly too big or too small? I mean, it's not like one day it fits and the next it doesn't, so where do we draw the lines? And what to do with the clothes we've discarded? The donation option is apparently not as good as we once thought, with so many of those clothes ending up in landfills. I think I can sell all of these items on Ebay, save but four: the black 99 Jane Street cardigan (too pilly) and the men's Old Navy khakis (too beat up), the purpley-grey cardigan (irrepairably altered), and the white LOFT swing tee (pit stains). But otherwise, plus size clothes do sell on Ebay, even if they're not a top-notch brand. I highly recommend it as a good way to find things a new home and keep them out of the garbage. I've decided Ebay will be my strategy instead of storing things away in case of future weight gain. At other times in my life, I've done just that, and not regretted it. But this most recent weight gain was mainly attributed to medication, so I feel less inclined to hang on to stuff at that size. I guess I'm also feeling like this time weight loss is more of a commitment than in the past. I think I'm finally resigning myself to the idea that I need structure in my eating for the sake of my mental health. Hopefully it'll stick this time for good, and I won't find these clothes on a "Clothes I Miss" post.

Taking Inventory of Stuff in Storage

May 10, 2019 by Kristin Purcell in Clothes, Minimalism

Well, I finally bit the bullet and sifted through every item in my storage bin, as well as the bottom drawer of my dresser. My husband questioned why I was putting myself through this when I knew that most of the clothes would still be too small. And I suppose the answer is that I feel a somewhat compulsive need to make sure I am wearing everything that fits. It's like I don't want to miss out on wearing something before it's too late and I've moved on to smaller sizes. So I went through everything, setting aside the items that might possibly fit to try on. Things I was sure were too small went right back into the bin, after writing down every piece and where I was keeping it. I carefully folded everything "Kon-Mari" style and was somewhat surprised at the volume of clothes I own (see photo). I was also surprised at how few of them are even relevant to my current size. Most of them are for a much lower weight. It seems that I fall into that cliche of investing more money in clothes when I'm thin than when I'm fat. This is a behavior many clothing retailers use to justify not making plus size clothes. It's absolutely not an accurate assessment for many women and I wish I had the confidence to be one of them. How refreshing to see women accept themselves as they are, in all their plus sized glory. There are some great blogger/YouTubers who embody this ideal: AndIGetDressed on YouTube and @itsmekellieb on Instagram is my favorite of the bunch. She never succumbs to "dressing for her body type" or any of that shaming garbage. She wears all kinds of clothes, always colorful and trendy and with no intention of hiding her body in any way. Alas, I am not so comfortable in my own skin when I'm in plus sizes, and am an utter cliche of thinking "thinner is better," at least for me. So I'm losing weight and looking forward to the day when my "skinny clothes" fit. I really find this way of thinking appalling, but it seems I can't change my mindset, no matter how many hours I spend in front of the mirror reciting how much I love myself. So I'm full-on dieting and going to the gym like all the other lemmings. I don't know what will happen in the future, but this is my current state, mental health being a major factor in my outlook. Being heavy seems to exacerbate my self-hatred and suicidal thoughts, and avoiding those symptoms is my main justification for doing what I'm doing. Ideally, I'd like to just eat intuitively and moderately and accept my weight wherever it falls, but I seem incapable of that at my current level of mental health. I stopped trusting my body's hunger signals after the intense cravings I experienced on Seroquel and it's hard to get over that.

But back to the clothes. Once I'd removed the smallest clothes, I was left with a much smaller pile- say, maybe a quarter of the total mess. Nine pieces of capsule-worthy clothing actually fit and are going to be joining my current wardrobe. Four GAP Factory T-shirts, two black and two navy, are being revived, since they seem to fit better now and I love the shape with the scoopneck and scoop hemlines. The grey men's pants I bought fairly recently that were a bit too small at first are now quite comfortable. A pair of black (size 16) Ann Taylor tailored trousers from my office-working days fit perfectly. A cotton oatmeal sweater from LOFT fits nicely, and is perfect for spring and summer when I put away my cashmere. A tan cotton anorak jacket from Old Navy is also great for the season and zips up comfortably. And then there's a black open cardigan which is on probation for being an acrylic mess of pilling and lint. The design is so great that it's a real heartbreaker that it hasn't worn well- but I've only washed it once or twice and it's barely justifiable at this point. These items are not utterly necessary to add to my capsule, but my need to not "miss out" means I'm putting them into the closet and making them available. I could definitely clear some things out at this point- there are things that are too big. But I'm going to declutter another day, so for the moment, my capsule has ballooned to 39 items.

Other things that now fit me are in the workout and pajama categories. My winter Under Armour running gear- Cold Gear leggings, base layer top, and water-resistant hoodie- all fit, as well as three other pairs of leggings and a light 3/4 sleeve sweatshirt from Old Navy. The other leggings are Danskin cotton blend in navy, Calvin Klein Performance cotton blend in black, and Under Armour Heat Gear synthetic in black with mesh cut outs. Three pairs of pajama pants are also added to the mix: two identical navy cotton Lauren Ralph Lauren joggers and one grey and white striped pair of joggers from GAP. The afore-mentioned pajama shorts are coming out too- two black and one palm-print from Isaac Mizrahi.

The remaining storage items amount to a lot. Like just the capsule items alone come in at about 50 pieces. Will this be my future wardrobe? Am I going from a minimalist capsule wardrobe to a more average collection of clothes? Will these items fit in with my evolving style? We shall see. That's still in the future. I'd best not get ahead of myself.

Here are the capsule items coming out of storage:

Here are the workout clothes:

Here are the pajamas:

The Best Advice I've Got

May 08, 2019 by Kristin Purcell in Mental Illness

When it comes to mental illness, it's difficult to find good help. Psychiatry can be a real guessing game if you don't fall neatly into a classic diagnosis, and even then, it's not easy to find the right treatment. And crisis intervention usually doesn't go beyond that; no one is checking to see that you take your meds once you've left the hospital. So when it comes to finding care, I recommend first finding an advocate (a loyal friend or family member, or even a social worker) to aggressively pursue the best doctors and therapists available to you. Waiting for the right doctor to "accept new patients" can be agonizing, but stay on that waiting list while you get started with someone more accessible. It can be worth the wait long-term. After a few years with my local psychiatrist and little improvement, my husband sought out "the smartest person he could find" in psychiatry in nearby Boston. We now drive over an hour each way to see my current psychiatrist, but for the first time in a decade, I feel I'm truly in good hands.

When going through the initial process of finding help and getting started on treatment, I recommend making your life as easy as possible. If that means eating off of paper plates to avoid doing dishes, so be it. If that means limiting your shower to 60 seconds a day, fine. Get creative when it comes to doing the bare minimum. If you have people to help you, that's always great. But if you're on your own, lowering your expectations for yourself for the time being can be key. Having a mental health crisis is hard enough without worrying about what clothes you're wearing, what foods you're eating, and keeping your apartment spic and span. Hire a cleaner if you can afford it, or just do the bare minimum to get by. Eat the same thing every day and buy your groceries online and have them delivered. Pull out some sensible wardrobe basics and make them your uniform for now. This is not the time to challenge yourself too much. It's about taking your meds, getting to therapy, and taking out the trash when it's full. Do whatever you have to do to get through the day. For me that meant watching YouTube all day, every day, and making a checklist for my meals and hygiene. I exercised when I could, but other than going to my appointments, I rarely left the house.

If you find yourself beyond this stage, like I do right now, where things are slowly but surely improving and you're trying to get your life back, I have different advice. I think this is the time to look for a kernel of interest in something to reconnect you to the outside world. Something extremely small and specific that won't overwhelm you, and something so easy that it doesn't feel productive. For me, that small kernel of something is my wardrobe. Clothes seem frivolous and not as lofty as actual "fashion," so I'm not intimidated by them. It's more of a guilty pleasure. I like deliberating over clothes, clearing them out, carefully replacing them, finding the perfect item. I like having a capsule wardrobe and taking care of my things and arranging my clothes aesthetically. Does any of this make me any money or save the world? No. But getting into this one little thing is helping me get better. My interests have expanded to reading books on style and fashion, listening to audiobooks about sustainability and ethics in the fashion industry, and developing my own personal style in a way that empowers me and gives me confidence. If you don't have a "kernel" to start with, here are some ideas that hopefully spark an idea that's right for you:

Look at interior design magazines. Pick an actor or actress that you like and watch every movie they've ever been in. Experiment with makeup and figure out what you like. Pick a favorite musician and listen to every album they have. Plan a fantasy vacation and look online for all the details of your imagined itinerary. Take up some form of crafting: knitting, jewelry-making, crochet, scrapbooking, origami. Get an adult (or children's) coloring book. Try baking something. Find recipes you'd like to try and put them in a box. Look for the best places to get tacos in your area and try them all out, leaving your reviews on Yelp. Set a small fitness goal and come up with an explicit plan to achieve it. Learn to touch-type. Watch decluttering videos on YouTube. Go to thrift stores and hunt for things to resell on Ebay. Read a whole series of romance novels. Learn to play solitaire. Start doing Sudoku or crossword puzzles. Pick a specific painting you like and look up everything the artist has painted online. Look at vintage clothing on Etsy. Clean out a drawer or cupboard and make it look like something on PInterest. Draw cartoon characters, even if they're terrible. Watch an entire baseball game on TV. Watch hip-hop dance videos on YouTube. Listen to an audiobook of a biography of someone you admire. Get into a serial podcast. Plan out your meals for the week and make an exact grocery list of what you need. Alphabetize your books by author, or organize them by color. Watch a foreign-language movie without subtitles (or with). Make an herb garden for your kitchen. Look up Japanese toilets on Amazon.

The idea here is to do something really easy- so easy that it doesn't make you want to just lie down. If these suggestions are too difficult, scale it back to where it feels feasible. And eventually your interest and curiosity can grow from there.

Crunching Numbers and Capsule Wardrobe Updates

May 01, 2019 by Kristin Purcell in Clothes, Minimalism, Capsule Wardrobe

Since Black Friday 2018, here are the numbers. It’s now the end of April.

Number of Clothing Items Purchased: 30

Number of Items Returned: 11

Number of Items Kept: 19

Total Spent on Shoes/Clothing After Returns: $382.16

Capsule Wardrobe Items Added: 13

Shoes Added: 2

Pajamas/Gym Wear/Accessories/Storage Added: 4

Current Capsule Wardrobe Count: 30

Current Shoe Count: 13

I feel pretty comfortable with the numbers in terms of my capsule and my shoes, but my spending is pretty shocking. For someone who's attempting to keep a small wardrobe, that's a lot of money to spend in 5 months- $77 a month blows my mind. Of course, a good chunk of that was on boots, and many initial items were for my increased weight, but still. Let's look a little closer:

Number of Items for Weight Gain: 9

ASOS T-Shirt 3-Pack $24.00

2 J. Crew Supima Cotton Tees $43.80

Cable and Gauge Green Sweater $19.99

Black Skinny D. Jeans $19.99

Blue Skinny D. Jeans $19.99

Columbia Zip-Up Fleece $26.99

Total $154.76

Really not bad for a 30 pound weight change. Granted, none of the items were ethically or sustainably made, but in terms of finding bargains, I did well. 8 items were for my newly formed capsule wardrobe, and the fleece was for my gym capsule. In the past, I had gone through a 59 lb. weight loss and had to replace all of my clothes, including bras and underwear, gym clothes, and even pajamas. I shopped very carefully with the capsule wardrobe idea in mind, but still ended up spending around $1,000. So $154.76 for a 30 lb. gain is really nothing compared to that. Now one reason for only having to buy 9 items with this most recent weight gain is that I did have some things in storage. The last time my weight was up quite high (around 211 to be exact), I had some clothes my mom bought me that I really liked. I couldn't bear to part with them when I lost weight, so I was able to pull them out the next time around the scale. Some of these items that are in my current capsule include my trouser jeans from Lands' End, my linen pants by Merona, and my purple-grey shawl cardigan from Sonoma. This is a great example of the "Weight Change Capsule Wardrobe" in action; keeping extra clothes for weight fluctuation can be a really good idea for some. Both my coats are holdovers from that time, as well as my black silky oversized blouse, some black pull-on pants, and my black and white striped top (stretchy or oversized clothes are obviously good for in-between weights as they are more forgiving of any minor fluctuations).

Now let's look at the more recent spending. These purchases were not for the sake of a weight change, though my weight is on the way down. These clothes reflect my changing style, incorporating masculine elements with my otherwise minimalist look:

Burgundy Shawl Cardigan $10.99 Thrifted

Light Blue Hanes Tee $2.99 Thrifted

Green Corduroy Shirt $6.24 Thrifted

Navy Blue Men's Pants $8.99 Thrifted

Khaki Men's Old Navy Pants $2.44 Thrifted

Grey Flannel Men's Pants $2.79 Thrifted

Taupe EveryBody Pajama Pants $7.99

Adidas Black Stripe Sneakers $34.99

Carolina Logger Boots $134.99

Dickies Black Leather Belt $14.99

Total $227.40

If I separate the boots, the rest only comes to $92.41, mostly due to the fact that a lot of things were thrifted. And in the case of the boots, though they were expensive, the quality is very good, and I plan to wear them for years to come. On the ethical/sustainable point, the thrifted items are a good thing, but the other items are not. These were things I could not find used and could not find a sustainable option for that fit. Five items are officially being added to my 25-Item Capsule Wardrobe, bringing my total number of items up to 30. The grey men's pants are too small (I was kidding myself a bit when I bought them), and are going into storage. The taupe pajama pants are obviously for my pajama capsule, the belt is an uncounted accessory, and the shoes are being added to my shoe collection, now up to 13 pairs (keep your eye out for a shoe declutter post coming soon). When all is said and done, I think my shopping ethics have improved, thrifting 6 out of 10 of the most recent items, versus my pre-capsule record of 9 all-new bargain-priced items. And a 30-item capsule wardrobe feels just fine to me. I don't feel the need to scale back when my weight is still in flux. I'm going to wait and see what happens as I explore my options in storage and reassess my shoe collection.

Here’s what I started my capsule with:

Here’s what I bought to get it up to 25 items:

And here are the most recent additions to my capsule wardrobe:

Non-capsule items mentioned:

Smaller Clothes and Warm Weather Dressing

April 29, 2019 by Kristin Purcell in Clothes, Food

I've come to a bit of a crossroads with my wardrobe. I think I'm finally at the point where I need to start swapping out my current clothes for the smaller ones I have in storage. I was wearing a pair of cotton poplin pajama shorts the other night; they have an elastic waist as well as a ribbon drawstring. The elastic is way too big on me, so they were being held up by cinching the ribbon in really tight. But ribbon is slippery, so they kept coming undone and falling down to my husband's great entertainment. So with great trepidation, I dug into my bottom dresser drawer that is currently used for storage, and pulled out three pairs of smaller pajama shorts. I tried a pair on and they fit, but I haven't actually worn them yet. I'm very hesitant to start pulling out smaller clothes- what if they're still too small? I don't want to jump the gun and then be disappointed. But I tried wearing a pair of blue skinny jeans the other day and as I moved around, they, too, fell down comically. And then I noticed my navy J. Crew T-shirts were looking a little big in the bust and the armholes were a bit revealing. I had been drip-drying them after washing them in cold, but since this development I decided to take the risk and throw them in the dryer on low to shrink them up a bit. That worked out fine- I don't see a huge difference, plus it makes laundry easier. And today when I put on my Vince grey cashmere sweater, I looked in the mirror and was surprised to see that it hung pretty much straight down in front, unobstructed by my belly. I've already downsized in the bra department; I started wearing some bralettes that were too small a few months ago. And my sports bras have switched out from two white low-impact ones to two black high-impact ones. Since I've started running intermittently, I needed the support, and since the weight loss, they do fit now. All of these little adjustments have snuck up on me. Until now, I haven't admitted that my clothes are getting to be too big for me. But I guess that time has come where I need to reach into the recesses of my storage bins and see what's what. I keep trying to remember what I was wearing before I sized up to my current clothes. I know the grey Gap joggers were in there- I remember them being too big when I first got them and having to cinch in the drawstring. But aside from that, I don't remember much. Some T-shirts probably stayed the same, along with my silky oversized blouse and striped top. But what was I doing for pants? And at what point did those old pajama pants fit? And why don't I have any summer shorts in between my current ones and the smallest? Maybe I didn't need warm-weather clothing at this weight. But yes, I did- my current shorts are what I wore last spring at 197 pounds (I'm around 198 now). It's weird to think that a year later, I'm right back down to the same weight. And two years ago I was actually down to 152 at some point. That's a lot of weight to be gaining and losing. Clearly I need to bite the bullet and take a full inventory of my storage. Especially now that the weather is (annoyingly) getting warmer and sunnier.

Dressing for summer at this weight is certainly no great joy for me. Wearing a regular underwire, foam-cup bra is just asking for a rash, so that's where the bralettes have come into play. They have a T-back with lace running down the back, so they look fine even when you can see them. I remember finding a two-pack at Marshalls and going on a "quest" for more. It was a success, but I didn't like the color combinations in the two-packs. So I used my tagging gun (so worth the $9 investment) to put the two offending colors back on the hanger and returned them. I am truly shameless, but I am happily left with four colors I like: black, navy, pale pink, and a rosy pink. Those two white sports bras are good for wearing under T-shirts in hot weather, too. But aside from the bra issue, there is still plenty of chafing to look forward to. I bought some rose-scented talc-free powder on Amazon last year that worked well for between my thighs and under my bralettes. For exercise, I always stuck with my leggings as opposed to shorts for any outdoor running or walking no matter how hot it got. Which means that those leggings in my bottom drawer might actually fit me now, so I could get rid of my current workout pants which are almost completely worn through in the crotch (sorry, there's a lot of TMI in this post). But I still feel great trepidation in making these changes. Is it just the fear of finding out I'm not as thin as I think? Or is it really the fear of gaining the weight back and not having any clothes? I had planned on selling my too-big clothes on Ebay, but maybe I'll hold off for a while until I feel more confident in my new weight. And a lot of my clothes can stay the same- I like oversized things anyway, so plenty of my tops will still work just fine. But today just might be the day for finding out what's what: for trying everything on that I think might fit and facing the mirror. Hopefully my head isn't too far ahead of my body and I won't be too disappointed.

The New Normal and Art

April 27, 2019 by Kristin Purcell in Mental Illness

I'm still adjusting to the new normal. No akathisia. But suddenly it's hard to not just go back to bed. I hate exercise, like more than before. My locked-down morning is all mixed up with photo-taking and wanting to lie down and hating showers. I have a mild obsession with Billie Eilish and hating her but loving her outfits and boyish charm. I'm questioning whether this blogging thing is yet another distraction from what I should really be doing: writing music. I had a particularly prolific period in my twenties writing songs and poems and I've been trying to replicate that era ever since. At this point it all feels like a distraction: theater, opera, massage school, Ebay, and now blogging. But the very idea of working on music is completely paralyzing. I can jot down words on scraps of paper, but even the melodies escape me at this point, never mind the actual production on a computer. And it just seems so hard. Does that mean it's the thing that really matters? Or does it just make me miserable? I love my songs- they're precious to me. But they are truly hard-won. What makes me happy, or at least excited, is thinking about clothes. Organizing them, shopping for them, culling them, and rearranging them. I love the way cashmere feels and the way my boots ground me. I love the drape of a scarf, the look of bright white against color, the smell of retail. But it seems frivolous, like a guilty pleasure. And are things just more pleasurable when they're guilty? Transgressive? Some part of me thinks I just like it because it's easy. And another part thinks it's easy because it's right. So do I do the easy thing that makes me happy? I do need all the happy I can get. Or is that giving up? Do I instead fight through the inertia and do the hard thing that matters? I remember one day in high school when I was in the modern dance studio alone. Facing that empty room terrified me, and that moment dictated my future. I ended up pursuing classical music instead of dance. There were scores and musicians and dresses in the room with you, so it was less scary. Was I just running from myself? Does it matter? Some part of me says it does. It says that it is my destiny to get to the heart of the matter and make something authentic. Some might say that anything you do is authentic, so don't worry about it. I worry. And then this idea of running from myself: is it OK to run from yourself when your self is trying to kill you? Trying to drag you down into the abyss? Or could I somehow go inward and still come out the other side? Are my insides the secret to happiness- true happiness- or are they just a bottomless pit? It's a dangerous question to toy with. Last summer I played with it. I went off my meds. I went into the abyss screaming and crying. I wrote violent poetry and went running a lot, fantasizing about drowning myself in the river. Was I facing myself or just denying my illness? If I'm on medication, can I truly face myself? Or does going off meds just obscure the view? What I'm wondering now is, does that poetry hold up? Is it drivel? Is it "outsider art"- art made by people with no training, no contact with the art world, mental patients included? Is that more authentic than the carefully trained, choreographed productions I took part in as a singer? During that prolific songwriting era in my twenties, I made a lot of what I refer to as "garbage art." Glass lashed to twigs with wire, primitive paintings on brown grocery bags, poems scribbled on bed sheets. I loved these things- they felt authentic. There was no training, no prompting for me to make these things other than my own processing of feelings. My own angst or despair or ecstasy. I don't have them anymore (in the spirit of minimalism), but a few pieces survived my brutal editing. Matt and I photographed them a couple of months ago and I finally let them go. They were breaking down, disintegrating, anyway. It was part of clearing out my drawer full of mementos. There's plenty left, but I was able to digitize all my scores and notes that hold value for me (those scores that weren't ripped up in a fit of rage last summer). I've just about completed my project of decluttering mementos; the only thing left is a box of photographs I need to scan onto my hard drive. But facing the photos, facing myself, my history, my choices, proves too difficult every day. Is this actually a good place to start? In the aim of facing myself and becoming authentic? Or is it still too soon? Am I still too fragile? Do I keep steady, holding down the new normal, or do I venture forward, or maybe inward? Is it safe? It feels a bit like spinning plates: keep up the new normal, and at the same time add something new. Am I too eager? Should I push myself or keep the status quo? How fragile am I?

I Found the Sneakers, and the Fat-Thin Fantasy

April 24, 2019 by Kristin Purcell in Clothes, Food

I found the sneakers. They have black stripes, not silver, but they are super comfortable and exactly the look I was going for. My mom and I went on one of our famous "quests," hitting up a TJ Maxx in another town in search of the shoes. And like so many times before, we were successful. Until we started to drive out of the parking lot and realized we had a completely flat tire. My father was called, yet proved useless in this situation, claiming he hadn't changed a tire in 20 years. So we call Triple A and walked over to a nearby Starbucks to wait. They arrived much more quickly than we'd expected, so I had to chase after my mom who had broken into a run back to the car, coffee in hand. When I relayed the conversation with my dad to the extremely nice mechanic, he told me to tell my dad that "the same rules still apply" from 20 years ago. Once we had the spare on and got in the car, my mom immediately asked if we should continue on to another TJ Maxx to look for a silver-striped pair of sneakers. When my mom is on a quest, she is unstoppable. I laughed and suggested we head home on the little donut-tire instead, but since then, I can't say the thought of hitting another TJ's hasn't crossed my mind. Frequently. And this is the point where I start to wonder about my mild hoarding tendencies with clothes: my propensity for buying multiples. I rationalize this behavior with my capsule wardrobe mentality: I'm very selective, and I wear clothes more frequently, so I should stock up for when they wear out. To some extent this is extremely practical. I often long for items I've loved that have acquired holes and are beyond repair. You can never find them again- they always change the style or just discontinue them completely and you're left misty-eyed and pining for that perfect T-shirt or pair of shoes. So my secret obsession has set in with these sneakers. I think about them several times a day, arguing the pros and cons in my head. Buying a second pair means I have a backup- and since these are pretty cheaply-made shoes, that seems justified. But oftentimes my tastes change and I'm left with multiples, tags still attached, and end up selling them on Ebay for less than I paid originally. The other consideration is that maybe it's good to leave the possibility for something new to come into my wardrobe. Maybe I'll find something I like even better, and my backups will just be cast aside. I'm really on the fence in this case after my failed attempts at online shoe-shopping. Another factor in all this has often been my fluctuating weight. While less of an issue with shoes, I've often been left with multiples that never got worn because my weight changed dramatically. And when my weight changes, often my style changes too. Historically, when I've gained weight, I've gone for drapier, stomach-camouflaging styles. And when I've lost weight, I've gone for more feminine, tighter-fitting, more objectifying styles. It's strange that no matter how firm my feminist convictions seem to be, when I "pass as thin," I fall into that trap of dressing in more revealing clothing, despite my true preferences. I dress in clothing that is typically pleasing to men, that simultaneously dilutes my personhood. There's an exercise in Overcoming Overeating by Jane R. Hirschmann and Carol Munter where these types of clothing associations are explored. It's called the Fat-Thin Fantasy. First you are to imagine yourself growing larger, very fat, and really try to feel what that would be like. Then imagine where you are- where do you see yourself? What are you doing? What are you wearing? How do people see you, and you them? While at first you may see the situation as obviously negative: dark, baggy clothes, isolating yourself, appearing very serious, etc., you can eventually see positives in the situation. How is this situation serving you? Maybe it allows you some much-needed privacy, some longed-for solitude, some groundedness, some respect from people for your ideas and not your body. Perhaps there are perfectly good reasons for wanting to be fat. And then the exercise asks the reverse: imagine yourself getting very thin, smaller and smaller, until you really feel in your body what that would be like. And at first, all you can see are the positives- getting attention, wearing sexy clothes, being very social, laughing and chatting casually. But eventually, when you look deeper, you can often find negatives to being thin. Perhaps you feel vulnerable, childlike. Perhaps you feel overwhelmed by sexual attention, valued only for what you look like and not for who you are. And you find that thinness is not necessarily all it's cracked up to be. These hidden meanings are significant for me in my struggle with my weight. And when I'm thin, I inevitably find myself tempted to objectify myself, even though that's not what I want. And perhaps I eat more and grow fat in part to prevent this phenomenon. I gain weight to be taken seriously and as an excuse to be anti-social. And so this time around, as I lose weight, I'm trying to promise myself that even when I'm thin, I will maintain my integrity. I will wear men's pants and boots. I will allow myself privacy and solitude. Just because I'll be thin, I won't be required to be sexy or social or even happy. I won't need to be fat to hide. I'll still be a complete person, still be allowed all of my moods and complexities. I'll stay me.

These two books are amazing:

I Hate Nice Weather, and Sneakers.

April 20, 2019 by Kristin Purcell in Clothes, Mental Illness

I’m afraid I've made a terrible mistake. I've been searching for a pair of white sneakers- you know the ones. The ubiquitous thick-soled all-white "trainers" you see Victoria Beckham wear, and therefore everyone else on Pinterest wear. I picked up a pair of Adidas at TJ Maxx for $34.99 with silver stripes that were surprisingly comfortable. I put them to the treadmill test and they didn't hurt my bunions at all. I did eventually get some soreness on the sides of my feet, possibly because they're just a rather flat, unsupportive type of shoe. In my fervent need to be environmentally responsible and not settle for a low-quality item of clothing that might wear out quickly, I returned the shoes and ordered the official Adidas Superstars in two sizes online. One was too big, the other too small, and both had the strange attribute of pressing down on the top of my toes, as though they were too narrow top-to-bottom. The fit was nothing like the ones I returned to TJ's, making me think that the TJ's version were not actually made by Adidas, but had simply gained the license to the Adidas name on their (shoddier) product. This is quite common at stores like TJ Maxx, Marshalls, Ross, etc. You think you're getting unsold Calvin Klein from a high-end department store, when in fact Calvin Klein has simply sold the use of their name to an anonymous company to make different products with the Calvin Klein name stamped on. I've experienced this phenomenon when buying jeans: the Calvin Kleins from TJ Maxx fit nothing like the identical item from the Calvin Klein website.

In any case, I soldiered on, deciding to try the oft-mentioned Veja-brand, sustainable, ethical sneakers so many bloggers recommend. Rather expensive at $120 a pair, I finally found my size on the website Need Supply. I ordered two sizes to try, a 39 and a 40 (I'm an 8 or 8.5 in women's) and both were an utter failure. Once again, the larger size was too big and the smaller size too tight. I've returned all 4 pairs of shoes now, using up all kinds of fossil fuels, I'm sure. And I find myself utterly regretting returning that first pair from TJ's. They were by far the best fit, the lowest price, and I had them in my hot little hands for 2 weeks before casting them aside. I was sure that getting a more expensive, authentic pair would ensure better longevity if not an ethical/sustainable purchase. But if the shoes don't fit, they don't do me any good. And so I returned to TJ's in search of those shoes I returned. But alas, they were gone, and I'm afraid I've made a terrible mistake. I plan on hitting up a couple of other TJ Maxxes in the area, something I've been known to do in the past. My mom and I are notorious for our "quests" for that 4th pair of curtains from Homegoods or that second pair of black joggers from TJ's. We have been victorious in the past, so there is hope for success here.

In terms of my latest "assignment" from my psychiatrist, there have been several developments. An afternoon class is much harder to find than he made it sound, but maybe when another semester rolls around at RISD I might give it a go. Hitting the library in the afternoon in order to get out of the house is still an option, so on Saturday morning I made a pilgrimage to the Providence Library in downtown Providence. Walking several blocks through pouring rain, I was disappointed to find the library closed. It was State-wide "Library Day" so I never suspected this closing was a possibility, but they were apparently renovating. On State Library Day. So instead I sat at a nearby Starbucks while my husband was at work on a rare morning shift.

We got home around 2 and ate lunch, noticed the weather had cleared up significantly, and decided to embark upon our very first bike ride in the last 2 years. We had an image of an idyllic afternoon coasting down the bike path, ending at a local cafe. Well, we barely made it. We were in pain. Bicycles are deceptively innocuous, but in fact can lead to intense butt pain and burning leg muscles. By the time we completed our return trip, I knew the pain would only get worse over the next day or so. I slept 13 hours that night, and 14 the next. I faithfully kept to my gym/walking schedule, but this whole bike ride thing was a rude awakening to say the least. I thought I was getting into pretty good shape, slowly but surely, but clearly I have a long way to go. For the life of me, I can't explain the bland, contented smiles of my fellow bicyclists. That expression that says, "Isn't this great weather? Let's get outside!" I hate these people. I hate people who want to go eat lunch in the park on nice days, who enjoy street fairs and outdoor concerts and impromptu bike rides. Nothing sends me to bed in a dark room faster than "nice weather." I like rain and being inside and snuggling up in a blanket. Now I do have aspirations of being fit enough to ride my bike as a means of transportation like I did so many years ago. But this leisurely attitude is something I'll just never understand. Is this a symptom of my depression? Perhaps. But I don't see it changing anytime soon.

All these new activities- library, bicycling, classes- have sent my brain into a tailspin. I got in a terrible argument with my husband yesterday and I feel like it was all because of these small changes (or attempts at changes). What little traction I had on my day- exercising, writing at the cafe- was being lost in this new flurry of activity. And so I hit a wall trying to get on the treadmill yesterday. I was dressed and cueing up my YouTube watch list when all of a sudden I heard it as clear as day in my head: No. I can't do it. So I went directly to bed, only stopping to take off my shoes in the process. And for the rest of the day, my brain was on fire. It was screaming at me for not getting enough done and then fighting back with a hard no. I will not move. I will not get up. My husband tried to salvage the day, making suggestions for what we could do instead. I was not having it. I feel like every day I'm trying to salvage my life. And I feel like that's enough.

Today is better. Gym, a few photos, breakfast, cafe. Back to square one at least.

Someone Tried to Take My Boots at Savers

April 13, 2019 by Kristin Purcell in Food, Clothes, Mental Illness

I'm feeling pretty chuffed after an incident at Savers the other night. I was there with my mom trying on more men's pants, since wearing the same pair every day has gotten a bit impractical. I tried a bunch of pairs on, and at one point left the dressing room in my socks to put some rejects back on the reject rack. My mom was watching the dressing room to be sure no one took it. But there was a man of somewhat small stature wearing construction-type clothing who walked by just then. According to my mom, he did a double take when he saw my boots lying on the floor of the dressing room and picked one up to inspect it. He seemed very excited to have spotted them, possibly especially because they were his size, but I had to disappoint him and explain that they were the shoes I was wearing. I sensed some mild surprise and maybe even a nod of approval at my choice of footwear. And I felt validated in some way, that wearing practical boots of good quality was something I'd done right. I felt almost admired that as a woman, I'd chosen to belong to the "club" of fellow boot-wearers, and therefore deserved as much respect as a man. My shoes are not frivolous or delicate, so I am not frivolous or delicate. And this sums up my entire attraction to the boots in the first place. I sense some respect from other people when I wear men's construction boots. Just in a small way, but every little bit helps. As I recover from my worst symptoms of bipolar depression and re-enter society, a small thing like that does a lot for my self-esteem.

As far as the pants shopping, I selected two pairs to take home with me. One was $3.99, the other $3.49, and both were 30% off for a grand total of $5.24. The first pair is a beige/khaki colored cotton chino from Old Navy. They're really wide-leg, a rare find these days, and have extra deep side pockets. They're only a waist size 40, not my usual 42, but they're so worn and broken-in that they seem to fit just fine. The edges of the pockets and waist are even a little bit frayed, which gives them the feel of an old favorite right from the start. The second pair are a lightweight grey flannel dress pant with a 40" waist and a 30" inseam which is perfect for bunching up a bit at the ankle over my boots. These seemed brand-new, but after washing and drying them, I've determined that they are a bit too small. I'm afraid I was a little optimistic in trying on size 40 pants, and in this case it went awry. I'll keep them in hopes that they'll fit soon if I continue to lose more weight.

I had my psychiatrist's appointment yesterday and learned that I lost 2 point something pounds, so I'm down to around 198. 2 pounds in a month is difficult to appreciate when I've been so diligent, but I guess I have to take into account the fact that I backed off on my exercise progress this month. I've also moved my food around so that I'm eating 350 calories of cookies and almond milk right before bed, which probably isn't helping things. I have to stick with this routine so my meds work properly without causing akathisia, but I do have notions of delaying my eating in the morning so that I can get back on an intermittent fasting schedule. Maybe intermittent fasting was working after all- I'm just having a hard time waiting to drink my coffee with creamer in the morning. Black coffee is an option, but I'd need some time to get used to it. My husband insists the weight loss has just slowed down because I'm "gaining muscle." I can actually see a distinct tricep emerging from my chubby upper arms, so there may be some truth to that theory as well.

I can say that for the first time since I started dieting and exercising, a full 26 pounds into my weight loss, I can finally see a slight difference in my body when I look in the mirror. I truly think that my mind just couldn't get around seeing myself at a weight higher than this. I couldn't recognize myself in the mirror for so long, and tried to avoid mirrors altogether. But just this week, I feel like I'm starting to recognize myself again, and I don't look absolutely shocking. This unfortunately has not improved my overall mood.

I think that since the profound relief of not having "the bad feeling" (akathisia) at night anymore, things feel like they've returned to normal, which for me is fairly depressed. The depression has seemed even worse lately when I'm alone in the house in the afternoon and can't motivate to start a project. I explained this to my psychiatrist, and he suggested I find a way to get out of the house in the afternoons and have some structure, the way I do in the mornings. (Going to a cafe and doing my exercise in the morning and early afternoon has become something of a routine lately, and I feel best while doing those things.) We talked about me going to the library and reading a book about something I'm interested in trying- like improving my website or taking photos. He also recommended taking a class at an adult education center, or something equally low-key. I had actually applied for community college a while back, but the money and commitment seemed too great at the time (and still does). But there are some great adult learning programs at nearby RISD (Rhode Island School of Design) that I started looking into. I could try something fashion-related that doesn't involve drawing or sewing, two things I'm incredibly bad at. There's also a course on website design "without coding" which sound feasible. Or maybe a basic photography course would be good. The classes are only a few weeks at a time, and if it does give me the structure I'm after, it would be a welcome relief.

My doctor is really good in this way- he focuses on whatever my major complaint is and makes suggestions to resolve it. Now that "the bad feeling" (akathisia) is under control, it feels like a step forward to address these moody afternoons usually spent in bed watching YouTube. He says that if structure and getting out of the house doesn't help my mood, then maybe it's a medication issue we can address. It all feels very sane and methodical- my doctor is incapable of rash judgement- and it gives me a sense of slow and steady progress. I'm genuinely excited to try taking a class. I've always been really good at school and think it could help with my self-esteem as well as my mood. My self image has gotten pretty bad over the years. My inability to get better, combined with my constantly shrinking world, really ate away at any innate sense of worth I once had. But these small things could start to build into something, maybe something new.

Minimalism and Change

April 13, 2019 by Kristin Purcell in Minimalism, Mental Illness

As a minimalist myself, I often assume that minimalism has benefits for everyone. I've even used minimalism as a coping mechanism during my most acute times of bipolar depression. I simplified my kitchen to make it easier to cook, I reduced my wardrobe to reduce my stress when getting dressed, and I streamlined my household items to make it easier to clean and get organized. In general, the value of minimalism for people with anxiety or depression goes relatively undisputed. But watching a lot of YouTube videos and reading blogs on the subject has made me notice something interesting. A lot of minimalists just keep reducing their belongings to the point that I wonder what the endgame is. For some, it might be to live out of a backpack, but I do start to wonder what the point of eliminating a handful of items is when it's a noticeable sacrifice. I mean, why get rid of your colander when you use it fairly frequently? This aggressive, almost competitive pursuit of owning less starts to seem more like an obsession than a positive change.

And so I've begun to wonder if minimalism really is good for everyone, especially people going through significant change. As I'm slowly getting better and stabilizing in terms of my own mental illness, I'm experiencing a lot of change in how I see myself and in what my activities are. And if I were to maintain a very strict doctrine of constantly reducing my belongings, there would be no room for new things to come into my life as I change. Minimalism often demands that we become more realistic about who we are and what our lifestyle really is. But for someone who is going through a very dark time in terms of mental health, this type of assessment can be brutal. When I found myself reducing my wardrobe to the things that still fit me (after my weight gain on Seroquel) and that were comfortable for around the house (when I was never leaving the house), I was left with a pretty drab, unfashionable capsule of basics. There was little color, and practicality was what mattered. But as I'm starting to break through a bit into the outside world, I've found a renewed interest in style and in finding my own authentic style. So I bought some new things, some colorful, less practical things. And like a "bad" minimalist, I've expanded my wardrobe a bit. So my question now is, how can we embrace minimalism and embrace change at the same time?

I've heard people talk about the "one in, one out rule," where for every new item you buy, an old item has to go. In terms of clothes (and keeping them out of landfills), I've had good luck with selling those older items on Ebay. And for sentimental items, repurposing is a good option: I had a beautiful blouse from high school that was wholly unflattering, so I sewed a few handkerchiefs from pieces of the fabric. As much of a minimalism enthusiast as I am however, I do feel there are considerations to make when decluttering during a difficult time. One thing to think about is whether going through belongings from the past might prove too difficult and not worth the rewards of clearing things out. What may be cathartic for some, for others can uncover issues they are not ready to deal with. In this way, clutter may actually be protecting you from dredging up regrets and memories that might make you feel worse. Right now I have a box full of photos I've been meaning to digitize for over a year. When I think about it rationally, I want them preserved and out of the way on my hard drive. But I've been blocked when it comes to actually getting started. I believe the reason for this is that going through those photos is a lot like that old game show "This Is Your Life" where you are reunited with people and events from your past. This may be a project better saved for when I'm feeling better about my current life and less prone to comparison and regret.

Another thing to consider when decluttering is whether getting rid of belongings is actually a symptom of suicidal thinking. It has been noted that when people are planning suicide, they might give away precious objects to friends and family. If you have any suspicions that this is your situation, cease and desist decluttering and see a mental health professional immediately. Another clue that this might be your situation is "decluttering" people and activities from your life. Advice from minimalists might suggest decluttering your time and schedule, but for someone battling mental illness, this may in fact be a red flag.

In general, if you are thinking of trying out some decluttering in order to simplify your routines and make daily tasks easier, I'd suggest going slowly and storing things away instead of getting rid of things outright. When I reduced my wardrobe, I stored my clothes that didn't fit in a plastic bin on my top shelf. This leaves me the option of returning to those items if my mindset or my weight shifts, things that are bound to happen as I recover from acute mental illness.

Which brings me to my last point regarding clutter and minimalism: sometimes hanging on to objects can give us hope. I like to call this "aspirational clutter." For me, five pairs of high heels that I don't currently wear (and haven't worn in years) constitute some of my aspirational clutter. I fantasize about the outfits I'll wear them with when I'm better. I imagine wearing them casually to go to a coffee shop, or putting them on for social occasions (which I don't currently attend). While they don't feel right just yet, I like to keep hope alive that sometime soon they will.

Studies have shown that the risk of suicide declines sharply when people call the national suicide hotline: 1-800-273-TALK

There is also a crisis text line: Text HOME to 741741

The lines are staffed by a mix of paid professionals and unpaid volunteers trained in crisis and suicide intervention. The confidential environment, the 24-hour accessibility, a caller's ability to hang up at any time and the person-centered care have helped its success, advocates say.

Jewelry I Miss and Sentimental Items

April 09, 2019 by Kristin Purcell in Clothes, Minimalism

Multi-strand bone and brown beaded necklace. My mom got this for me one Christmas in college. I was notorious for returning gifts, so it was a rare occurrence that I actually loved something I didn't pick out myself. It was special to have something she picked out for me, and I loved the bohemian, beachy style of the piece.

Sparkly aqua gem dangly earrings. I bought these in Germany on our first trip there. I got them at a department store one day out on my own. They were delicate but colorful, and gave a flattering little sparkle to my face.

Tiny beaded bracelets. My uncle who I rarely see got me these when he came to my senior voice recital. They were white, pink, and maybe a little lavender and gold. Stretchy and simple, and great to stack with other bracelets.

Seahorse necklace. This was a pendant necklace I got at the same vintage shop where I found my combat boots in high school. It was red and green jeweled and had an awesome segmented design so the seahorse was made of several pieces that could undulate freely.

Tassel necklace. Yet another vintage piece from that shop in high school (it was called Bee-bop-a-loo-la), this was a pendant necklace with a chain mail tassel. I loved that it was vintage but definitely edgy.

Computer glasses. These were protective yellow-lens glasses with black frames for blocking blue computer light. I'd wear them around while I was working at the Cape, imagining they looked like real glasses. I don't wear glasses, but sometimes I wish I did.

These items all have sentimental value, something I am known to ignore when decluttering my belongings. I've often offended people with my brutal disregard for sentiment, but I do own a large file drawer of mementos, which I always feel is enough. But looking back at these tiny jewelry items which take up little space, I'm questioning whether I've been too brutal. As a minimalist, I've usually erred on the side of clearing things out. But as someone with a terrible memory in general, I definitely have some regrets from getting rid of sentimental items. Sometimes objects are just more potent, more capable of bringing me back to a time and place, than photos or my constantly failing memory. I don't know why my memory is so bad. Is it all the psychiatric drugs? Or is it my tendency to view anything in the past as negative, so I block things out? As time passes, I reflect on times I've deemed simply awful, and see them in a nostalgic and even positive light. Maybe I need to rethink my attitude towards sentimental items, or at least leave a window of time before getting rid of them. Then again, I rarely, if ever, look through my drawer of sentimental things. But I do like knowing they're there. There are even a couple pieces of jewelry that I've relegated to the sentimental drawer. I no longer wear them, but I hang onto them anyway.

Single heart-shaped silver earring. This is half of a pair of earrings that were given to me by my fifth-grade boyfriend. Need I say more?

Silver-plated triple-band ring. My best friend in sixth grade gave this to me, and it did have quite a renaissance for a while when I lived in New York. I was much thinner then, so it fit. The silver is chipping off, which just adds charm.

Silver chain necklace with turquoise jeweled charms. I got this in high school at Kohl's. It's really unique, made by a faux-vintage brand, and I always got compliments when I wore it. I wore it to a lot of auditions, so I can't bear to look at it as of late, so it went into the drawer.

I think a big part of the reason I don't look through my sentimental items is that I always imagined myself as being much more successful at this point in my life. The idea was that I'd be rich and famous when I finally went through the drawer to reminisce about when I was young and a nobody. But still being a nobody, it just doesn't seem like it's time yet. I keep thinking, I'm almost there, just a few more years of paying my dues and then I'll be on top. But that time never came, and I'm trying my best to let go of that fantasy. Twenty years is a long time to keep paying dues with very little return. I recently asked my husband, "Do you think I'll ever sing again?" "Of course," he answered without missing a beat. But I don't know. In one of my unmedicated rages last summer, I literally tore through all my scores, every binder of opera arias and roles, carefully organized on a shelf in the living room. I ripped them apart, binder and all, with my bare hands while my husband and mother contemplated taking me to the hospital. But I haven't looked back. I haven't let myself regret that fit of rage and despair. I earned it with uncounted hours of practice and devotion and performing 8 shows a week for not enough pay. It was justified. And I need some time to pass before I can even consider returning to it. I need time to recover.

To see my current jewelry collection, click here.

I'm Too Old for iPhoto and Too Fat for Dressing Rooms

April 07, 2019 by Kristin Purcell in Food, Clothes

I'm feeling defeated. Not by depression or anxiety or any of the usual culprits. I'm feeling defeated by seemingly simple technology. I've wanted to add photos to my posts ever since the beginning, but I felt too overwhelmed by the features on my new iPhone X to even get started. When I was selling a lot of clothes on Ebay, my husband took all the photos on a DSLR camera we got secondhand. I'd sit at the laptop, telling him when a color or angle needed to be adjusted, and he'd do whatever was necessary to make it happen. At some point more recently, I watched a YouTube video on how to make YouTube videos (I know, it gets kind of meta here), and even took notes. I thought I understood things like F-stop and exposure. But these lessons were just about immediately forgotten. I watched another video on how to use the camera app on an iPhone X. I went through all the different features, taking panoramic shots and making things sepia-toned, but once again, I immediately forgot everything I'd done. I've had longtime aspirations to make YouTube videos about capsule wardrobes or minimalism, but again, I find the technical side of things completely overwhelming. And seeing "the kids" these days casually editing their instagram photos really doesn't make me feel any better about it. I try to keep in mind that kids from this generation have been doing these tricks on their phones, editing videos and putting panda ears on people, ever since they could text with two thumbs (another skill I'll apparently never master). Social media has never interested me since I prefer a more hermit-like existence and getting updates on other people's lives just makes me feel bad. But this photo and video stuff that seems to need no explanation for much of the population is really difficult for me. I dream of being one of those Youtuber/bloggers who edit videos in their pajamas while drinking green smoothies. I've got the pajamas and the smoothies down; it's the technology that's holding me back. I mean, when I was growing up we didn't have cellphones. We didn't even have a mouse when typing on a computer. Printers had paper with holes running down the edges, and I was in my twenties and still using dial-up for the internet (if you don't know what that is, it results in your computer loading websites at a glacial pace, and god-forbid there's a photo to load). So I've decided to cut myself some slack in this department and get help. My husband has graciously agreed to teach me what I need to know in order to at least post some photos of clothing items on my blog. We did a photo shoot where he took the pictures of my capsule wardrobe and he edited them, but now I'm learning to actually photograph and edit things on my own. Patience is key, for both of us. Breaking things down into tiny steps is also key. After just the first lesson, I was reduced to tears, feeling incredibly stupid and old. There were some aborted attempts at taking video a couple of months ago, but I was reduced to tears, not only feeling stupid, but feeling fat and hideous. Seeing myself, my actual physical size and features, not as a passing glance in a mirror, but from all angles and in motion, horrified me. That was at my heaviest, so somewhere around 224 lbs, but I just had no room in my head for what that actually looked like on my body. A certain amount of denial when it comes to my appearance was, I think, necessary to keep from panicking every time I passed a mirror. But the shock of the video image was too real to deny. The only other time I've felt this shock and horror was in the dressing room at Marshall's. I was buying a pair of skinny jeans (size 18W) and a dark green sweater (size 3X) when the reality of my physical situation came into view. There's something about those tiny dressing rooms, the mirrors that are a little too close. Something about bringing more than one size in with you and then immediately realizing the bigger one is the only possible option. I know many women struggle with body dysmorphia, thinking they are bigger than they are. But I seem to have the opposite, as some form of self-preservation. That's why it seems to me like I haven't lost a pound, despite the 20 lb deficit. I thought I was already there. Already here. But progress with anything is slow, and the big picture, so to speak, doesn't come into focus for a while. So I'll keep plodding forward with my iPhoto and my weight loss, trying to keep my chin up.

Power Dressing and Exercise Updates

April 06, 2019 by Kristin Purcell in Mental Illness, Food, Clothes

I know you're in suspense about which boots I decided on, so I'll get that out of the way first: I went with the brown logger boots. My concerns that they might look too feminine were unfounded, I discovered, when I saw the photo my husband took of me in them. I was wearing them with my men's pants, trying to decide whether to wear them out, and from the photo it became clear to me that they do not look in any way traditionally feminine. The heel is more subtle than I imagined, and so I've finally started wearing them (gasp!) outside. They feel great, comfort-wise, and I feel great in them, more myself. I keep commenting that I just feel normal. I feel like they ground me, the weight of them, and in the way they balance out my body shape a bit. I feel like less of a tomato on a stick. OK, not a great body image to admit to, but it's accurate as to how I've been seeing myself lately. Another thing the boots give me is a subtle sense of power, like they're armor of a sort. And it dawned on me how rarely, as a woman, I shop for clothes that look powerful. I'd say my usual MO would be looking for clothes that a) make me appear thinner or smaller than I am b) look "cute" c) are "flattering" (refer back to a). I think it's good progress for me to abandon these motives and go for something empowering instead. It seems like when traditionally feminine clothing is deemed "powerful," as in a "power suit" or some great high heels, the power comes from sex appeal, especially in reference to men. This ultimately does not seem like real power to me. If objectifying yourself is your only way of feeling powerful, I think there's something wrong there. But maybe there's something more that I'm missing- maybe a power suit feels like armor going into a business meeting, or high heels make you feel taller and in that you feel power. I just personally don't get those things from those clothes- I get them from menswear.

In other news, I am pleased to report relief from "the bad feeling" at night, something that was ruling my entire day for months. "The bad feeling" has been correctly identified as akathisia from the initial surge of medication when I take my Latuda, an atypical antipsychotic. I have had to abandon intermittent fasting altogether, since the solution is to take the Latuda right before bed, and you have to eat 350 calories with it in order for it to work. The idea with taking it so late is that I sleep right through any potential akathisia. The other part of the solution was to lower the dose. I tried 40mg instead of 80mg, but that started affecting my mood. 60mg with dinner was definitely an improvement over 80, but I still started to get that feeling creeping up on me as the evening progressed, hence the late night dosing. It's not perfect, but this late-night snack thing is doing the trick so far.

With all the stress of experimenting with the meds, I've been losing my motivation to exercise. And with all the changes to my eating schedule, I've been having urges to binge, or at least eat outside my caloric limits. So I've had to back off in both departments, become less aggressive in trying to lose weight, and find some patience to go slower. I've allowed myself up to 2,000 calories on some days, though now it's leveled out to about 1,800 including my late-night cookies and milk. In terms of exercise, I've backed off on my intermittent running/walking and just gone back to walking at an incline of 2. On gym days, I'm only lifting weights, eliminating the 10-minute round of 6-incline walking altogether. This has made working out feel way less overwhelming and I feel less in danger of quitting outright. I'm convinced that I need to just keep doing something every day, and if I can just keep it going, motivation will strike again and I can start building my workouts up again. Going to the gym and just doing 3-4 machines feels pretty pointless, but I'm able to do it, and that's what really counts here. I do also have to credit myself for those 4 hours on the treadmill trying out boots (that was in addition to my regular exercise). I was walking really slowly (2.2 speed), but it does add up to something. And I've been leaving the house almost every day, so there's a bit more activity in just doing that. I tend to get ahead of myself, always wishing I could do more, accomplish more. But I need to appreciate how far I've come. I'm reading books instead of just watching YouTube. I'm going to the cafe to read or write. I'm shopping for clothes and making decisions. And I'm still on track with food, meds, and exercise. That'll have to be enough for now.

Shopping for Construction Boots and Dickies

April 03, 2019 by Kristin Purcell in Clothes

I'm caught in the in-betweens. I've psychologically shifted my sense of style, but physically my wardrobe isn't there yet. It takes time to find just the right pieces, especially when you're thrifting. And if you're buying new pieces, the financial pressure is on not to fuck it up. I recently bought 4 thrifted items: the oft-mentioned men's pants, a green corduroy button-down, a blue T-shirt, and a burgundy shawl-style cardigan. I've been wearing these items in constant rotation, but the pants are problematic without appropriate footwear- and a belt. So I went to one of those horrible stores where they sell men's workwear (like construction work, not office work) and picked out a pair of "logger boots." They have a slight heel, which apparently all logger boots do, but they are in fact men's, size 7.5. They're a beautiful mid-brown leather with black soles and they lace up above the ankle- they’re referred to as an 8” high boot, and the brand is Carolina. I've put the boots through a rigorous testing process: I walked on our treadmill in the boots for an hour- twice. They passed with flying colors- no blisters or bunion pain- but I've been having some hesitation about committing to them and wearing them outside. My hesitation is the heel. Are they too feminine? Could they be mistaken for women's boots? If so, this would really bother me. The whole idea with this style shift is to really adopt a more masculine look, especially in terms of pants and boots, and to escape the traditionally feminine aesthetic. To escape the arbitrary sizing and cheap fabrics and infantilizing nature of so much women's clothing. But I do really love the boots. So I'm torn. All this indecision has been stalling my personal style transition. So today I took the bull by the horns and went back to "Bob's Stores" and found another option. They of course need to go through the rigorous testing process, but they are a more traditional men's flat work boot. They're the classic 6" high Timberland Pro work boot in all black leather. I also picked out a black leather belt (I returned the faux leather brown one to Marshall's) and returned a pair of "Dickies" men's work/uniform pants. I had picked them up at Bob’s when I got the logger boots, but I decided the poly-blend fabric was a little too sweaty for my liking. So the boot decision is still in process, but I do have a belt to wear with the pants I thrifted. I'll just wear them with my knee-high Sorel boots like I have been. This whole process is making me very impatient- like I'm actually feeling embarrassed to wear my skinny jeans and women's ankle boots. I feel like I look middle-aged and of little consequence. But these new boots are not cheap- about $135 a pair- and while neither belt was very expensive, I couldn't bear to take the tags off of the faux leather one because I don't want to settle. Buying new things- probably made in sweatshops, because apparently everything is- is already questionable behavior in my mind. So holding out for just the right item seems like the least I can do when I can't find something at the thrift store. Now I was pleasantly surprised to note that some Carolina brand items are actually "Made in USA," a fact that is causing this "Bob's Store" to grow on me. I'm sure union factory workers who shop for these types of clothes would prefer to buy items "Made in USA" based on principle, and the store’s stock may reflect that. (Looking into Timberland's labor ethics reveals that they also offer some “Made in USA” products, and that they do report a decent rating on their factories from a 3rd party- not that that necessarily means anything). But the other reason Bob's is growing on me is that I don't feel bad about myself when trying to find my size there. With the belt, I simply looked at the tags to find the correct measurement (42") for my mid-hip area where I wear my pants. No judgement or inherent comparison, just a measurement. I'm sure plenty of men bigger than me shop there and are able to find their size. And trying on boots, I actually found pairs that were too small for me- apparently smaller men can shop there, too. And there was never any intimidation factor ("Um, little lady, I think you're in the wrong department"). Nothing like that. I love how utilitarian the whole place is. Now I like looking at pretty things just as much as the next woman, but it's refreshing to shop without trying to fit into a smaller size or wondering if a pair of boots will last more than one wear. Because, did I even mention, the QUALITY of men's clothes? For the same (or lower) prices we women pay for basics, men are getting something that will withstand years of wear while we are getting frilly tops that fall apart the first time through the wash. All the more reason for me to consider menswear. The clothes have great structural integrity. And whether or not it’s true, I think I look like I have more integrity when I wear them.

Book Review: Women In Clothes

March 28, 2019 by Kristin Purcell in Clothes

Let me just start off by saying that this is the best book on clothing or style that I've ever read. And I've basically exhausted the collection at my local library: The Cool Factor; Change Your Clothes, Change Your Life; The Curated Closet; How To Get Dressed; Lessons From Madame Chic; Stacy London's book; Victoria Beckham's book; Nina Garcia's book The One Hundred; Trinny and Susannah's book; What to Wear For the Rest of Your Life; Lauren Conrad's book; Cupcakes and Cashmere; basically anything they had on the shelf. The advice given in most of these books is on how to build a wardrobe, what classic pieces you must have, how to style your clothes, dressing for your body type, etc. And a lot of them are really dated, obviously, because fashion changes fast. Especially the ones with pictures- those can be laughably dated. But most of them just have pictures of women in high heels with like, a blazer and jeans on. Or some corporate-appropriate skirt and blouse with "statement jewelry." And they always recommend buying a good trench coat or wearing kitten heels if you don't like wearing high heels. It's basically magazine advice. Not to say that they're all bad- I love The Curated Closet for finding your style, as well as Change Your Clothes, Change Your Life for motivation. And Vic-Beck's book is a fun read. But Women In Clothes is a totally different kind of book. Rather than focusing on the how-to of dressing better, it explores women's relationships with clothes and dressing. There are pictures, but only as part of artistic projects. Most of the book is just words about the experience of living with clothes. The book all started with a survey for 639 women to fill out, and parts of each survey are touched on in interviews or more organic conversations. Some are grouped as anecdotes by subject, and some are first-person stories about a particular clothing-related event or experience. And the result is absolutely fascinating. Because there is so much more to talk about concerning clothes than simply rattling off a list of must-have pieces. The details of each woman's approach to dressing are highly individual and come from a vast range of influences. There are formative experiences, personal fashion evolutions, assumptions and rejections of assumptions, and different perspectives on being female and getting dressed. There are images of collections of clothing, explorations of women's mothers' styles, even quirky detailed accounts of online shopping/stalking. And I feel the aim of this book is right in line with the aim of this blog when it comes to clothes. I like talking about the meaning of clothes and describing clothing in my own words, as well speaking to my own style evolution. And my recent Men's Pants Epiphany post feels less crazy when I find other women have had an experience that resonates with mine:

"Giving up femininity is a relief. It makes me less eager to please. By not dressing in a traditionally feminine way, I have been able to stop making everything better for everyone else. To give myself the entitlement of a man, I have had to look like a man. I don't feel the need to live as a man, or dress like one all the time, but I like being able to play with it. And yes, it does feel dirty, like I'm getting away with something that other people can't. I wouldn't recommend it to anyone, but it has worked for me."

To hear from women who dress in a less traditional way, or who specifically have felt that sense of entitlement I get from wearing men's clothes, makes me feel less alone, like less of a weirdo. Because for me, it makes perfect sense:

"It's wonderful to be a woman if you are young, thin, and pleasing to men. Otherwise there's not so much that's wonderful about it."

This sentiment rings true for me in the sense that it's not wonderful to be objectified, to be harassed at work, to be sexually assaulted. It's not wonderful to have your ideas dismissed, to be rated on a scale of 1-10 by men, to be afraid to walk alone at night. So of course it makes sense for me to quite literally, walk in the shoes of a man. To "wear the pants" so to speak. In men's clothes I feel more respected, more protected, and taken more seriously. And I don't necessarily feel any less feminine- if anything, I feel more attractive as a woman, more myself in men's clothes. Because I'm more empowered, more in control of myself than when I wear plus-size skinny jeans and lightweight little ankle boots. I bought a pair of men's work boots the other day and have been "auditioning" them on the treadmill to make sure they're a perfect fit. The weight of them, the integrity, the structure of them feels right. They make me feel like more of a person. And that's what I think clothes should do for everyone- let you feel the way you want to feel. How refreshing to read a book about how different women do that.

Women In Clothes is written by Sheila Heti, Heidi Julavits, Leanne Shapton, and 639 Others.

I Feel Like A Guinea Pig

March 24, 2019 by Kristin Purcell in Mental Illness

The last 4 days have been an absolute nightmare for me. I don't feel like writing or reading or doing much of anything today. I'm exhausted- exhausted but so relieved. The awful roller-coaster of akathisia is over for the moment (akathisia is an agitated, climbing-the-walls feeling you can get on atypical antipsychotics). I've been crying and lying down a lot, but my body feels relaxed and wiped out. I saw my psychiatrist 5 days ago and I complained to him about "the bad feeling" I've been having at night: an awful, slightly agitated angst that kicks in a couple hours after I take my Latuda (an atypical antipsychotic). I take it at dinner, because you have to eat at least 350 calories with it, and since I'm trying to do intermittent fasting, I finish eating by 6:30pm. Basically, it's been feeling like a race against time to eat, take my pills, hopefully not feel too awful, and fall asleep as soon as possible. When I feel this way, I can't watch TV or movies, read, browse online, or do anything to distract myself. The only somewhat tolerable activity is crossword puzzles, but when I get stuck I lose my concentration and have to stop. When I first reported this feeling to my doctor, we suspected it was a reaction to my body "running out" of Lamictal. We tried splitting the dose into morning and evening, but nothing improved. So this time he suspected that this could, in fact, be a form of akathisia from the Latuda and suggested moving it to a morning dose instead. I took a half-dose that night, then a full dose in the morning for two days, then split the dose into morning and evening, and I'm now going back to just nighttime. The plan is to eat a late night snack and take the drug right before going to sleep, throwing out intermittent fasting for the moment. The agony of the days where I took a daytime dose was so intense, so invasive and bewildering, that I felt like I was losing my mind. It was like the "bad feeling" was there all day long (the nights were actually OK- way better, in fact). So the lesson learned was that yes, this feeling I've been having at night is probably akathisia from the surge of Latuda soon after I take it. I'm probably sleeping through much of it (though not sleeping well), as opposed to the long, never-ending daytime-dose nightmares. Yesterday I was on the phone with my husband for 6 hours while he was at work. At one point I told him I was "having an emergency" and wanted to go to the hospital. He suggested I take Klonopin and wait for it to kick in. I did, and was able to sleep for a bit. Then I had dinner and we did crosswords over the phone. Today has been emotional and I'm really tired, but the relief of not taking the Latuda in the morning is phenomenal. This is the kind of experience that is difficult to explain to people. If someone asks how I'm doing and I say I'm going through medication changes, I usually get a blank stare and a change of subject. But if you know what it's like, if you've been through or are going through it, you understand how complicated and difficult it can be. To have your brain undergo chemical experiments is at times terrifying and traumatic. You wonder if you can ever get yourself back. You forget what it was like before the changes were made. You find it impossible to describe how you feel, or to compare one day to the next. I've been through so many medication changes over the years that it would be impossible to count them all. This all adds up to a sense of trauma and you can't even explain exactly why you're traumatized. I'm crying a lot today because I feel sorry for myself. Not in a selfish way- if anything in a compassionate way. Having compassion for myself has been impossible at times, but I think it's actually happening for me right now. Now that the experiment is over, I actually have the perspective to see what hell I had to go through. Having your brain play guinea pig is not a passive experience. It usually doesn't take place in a controlled environment. It shifts everything about the way you see the world and makes it hard to separate the symptoms from reality. It makes you doubt yourself in an extreme way. It makes you wonder what your reality is actually like. Today I slept in a bit, exercised, went for a quick coffee, but got too tired to concentrate. Matt and I came home, and he rubbed my feet and made me lunch. I've been in bed since then, watching some YouTube, folding some laundry. I'm relishing the relief. But in the back of my head, I know that tonight I will have to face that feeling again. Hopefully I will sleep right through the worst of it. We left a message for my doctor asking how to proceed. Perhaps the dose will come down a bit. Perhaps I can escape "the bad feeling" for good.

Dieting and Deprivation

March 23, 2019 by Kristin Purcell in Food, Mental Illness

I had my psychiatrist appointment yesterday and am pleased to report that I'm almost down to 200 lbs (it was 200 point something), and that there's a plan in place to address "the bad feeling," that awful mood that strikes between dinner and bedtime. My doctor suggested switching one of my dinner time drugs to the morning to see if that helps, and also to take Klonopin in the afternoon as a preventative measure. But back to the weight loss. Talking about long-term plans for my eating and exercise got me thinking about diets and deprivation. As much as I enjoy all of the foods I eat regularly on my diet, there are often times when I feel deprived. Whenever my husband suggests getting takeout or a croissant at a cafe, I have to say no because I don't know exactly how many calories are in the food. And when I think about the endgame of this whole dieting process, I wonder if that will ever be able to change. There are times when I estimate calories based on Google searches of various foods, but there is usually quite a range for prepared foods. My instincts and my history with food (and with binge-eating) tell me that any sense of deprivation is a bad thing and will only lead to dieting backlash. After all, something like 97% of all dieters gain back the weight plus more when the diet ends. So what is the plan for me? Yesterday it occurred to me that restricting my calories might just be necessary for me to cope with my mental illness. Like a diabetic, I might have to accept the "diet" as a necessary component of my continued health. Eating without a plan seems to inevitably lead to bingeing for me, which leads to weight gain, which triggers my depression and suicidal ideation. So perhaps my life does, in fact, depend on restricting my eating. That's difficult for me to swallow. There have been many times in my life when dieting seemed unhealthy psychologically. One instance was following my first significant weight gain, around the time I had a breakdown and had to go home to live with my parents at age 27. I soon found work in nearby Cape Cod and lived there for a time. I vividly remember the spare meals of rice noodles and cabbage with cottage cheese for breakfast. I remember running around the neighborhood, alternating between a relaxed jog and a forced sprint in an attempt to rev up my metabolism. I also remember sporadic donut binges, eating half a dozen Krispy Kremes in a sitting. After eating my entire day's calories in donuts, I would subsist on cabbage and broth to get through the night. Another era of dieting occurred when I was living in New York. I had recently left Overeaters Anonymous, which had left me quite thin, perhaps the thinnest in my adult life. But I had fallen off the wagon and started bingeing and dieting again. There was a point where I was eating about 1500 calories a day, then running to burn off about 600 of those calories, leaving me with a net total of 900 calories for the day. I can't say that any of this behavior was healthy or even desirable, but certainly indicative of my strained relationship with food. There have also been periods of time where I rejected dieting altogether. I read feminist theory on how to restore one's eating from the damages dieting had done. I "legalized" all foods, giving myself the freedom to eat any foods I wanted, worked to embrace my body at any size, and learned to cope with my emotions without using food to do so. When I was younger, say in college and in my early-mid 20s, this system led to great success. My weight stabilized and I could eat like a normal person. But more recent attempts at this process have failed miserably, resulting only in weight gain, panic, and a return to dieting. I don't feel my current state of mental health is sufficient to make this system work. So this whole issue of whether or not to diet, and how to end a diet without undoing all the hard work, is a tough nut to crack. Is dieting the answer or the enemy? Perhaps if I look at it through the lens of exercise, I can see it more clearly. I am gradually increasing my exercise in order to achieve a certain level of fitness: to be able to run for a half-hour three times a week, and lift weights three times a week. Once I reach that goal, I plan to continue this routine ad infinitum. Maybe this is the right way to think about the food - that while there is a goal to achieve, there must be a plan to continue the healthy regime. And for me, it helps to think of it as necessary for my mental health. Because if my eating is restricted indefinitely, I need a greater motivation than just maintaining my weight. Because no particular weight has ever brought me happiness, but restricting my calories has brought me relief from some extreme symptoms of my illness.

DIY Projects That Actually Worked Sort Of

March 20, 2019 by Kristin Purcell in Clothes

So I hemmed my men's pants. Despite explicit and repeated measuring, one leg is in fact longer than the other. Also, they're too long. I'm stepping on the back hems in my knee-high wedge boots, the only shoes that make any sense with the pants. I'm obviously wearing the pants over the top of the boots so all you see is the leather foot and part of the wedge. I wore them like this about twice before the waistband stretched out and the pants became too big. They have this weird inner corset system of elastic for some kind of "comfort fit" that apparently men are into. But it got stretched out and now they fall down. I tried wearing them with my skinny braided “leather" belt from Old Navy with them, but it feels so dinky and inadequate with the substantial waistband of the pants. So last night I went back to Savers to try and find pants that fit me better in the waist, but they were all too big or too small or too ugly. So then I caved and went next door to Marshalls and got a men's faux leather Columbia wide brown belt with a big buckle (there was nothing that fit at Savers). It cost $12.99 and is a size XL in men's belts, whatever that means. I thought I'd look at their pants, too, but they only go up to a size 38 waist at Marshall's. I'm looking for either a stretchy size 40 or a non-stretch 42. This made me feel like some sort of freakish whale of a human. I flinched every time I caught sight of myself in a mirror. Surely I can't be this big! I've lost weight after all! But there it is. This morning I tried the belt on with the pants and it didn't thrill me. I put on my women's skinny jeans instead with the black flat ankle boots. These pants are also too big, but we are where we are. In other news, I've embarked on a couple of other DIY projects, slightly more successful than the pants-hemming. I bleached my thrifted blue Hanes T-shirt and it's exactly the color I hoped it would be. My first attempt had no impact whatsoever- note to self: not enough bleach. The second attempt involved a lot more bleach, along with some soaking in the wash before turning it on. When I pulled it out, I was very concerned by what appeared to be blotchiness and uneven coloring. But after a tumble-dry it came out just perfect. This little project definitely made me feel like I was getting away with something. This lighter shade of blue is almost aqua and resembles a long-sleeve tee I had many years ago and still miss today. Whenever I wore it I got complements on what a good color it was for me and I've kept that color in mind ever since. After such a successful DIY project, I felt emboldened to try something else. I talk a lot about my obsession with blouson-style tops, the type with a band or some elastic at the hem so the top "blouses" out from the mid-hip. While I've never come across this style as a recommended look for "apple shaped" bodies with narrow hips, trust me- it's a game-changer. Any-hoo, I took my destroyed white T-shirt (see White T-shirt Disaster and Deodorant Safety) and very carefully cut open the bottom hem at the inside of the side seam. Using a safety pin as shuttle, I threaded some thin elastic from the sewing store all the way around through the existing hem. I tied it off and bingo! Blouson top. The only problem was, this particular T-shirt wasn't big enough to "blouse" out or anywhere at all. It looked OK in front, but tight across the back, emphasizing my fat rolls. So I pulled the elastic out and repeated the process on a different T-shirt: one of these LOFT ones with a high-low hem and a swing shape. With more fabric to work with it worked much better and while it's a little short in front, I am currently wearing it in public, so, decent success there. I'm not usually one to DIY clothes- in fact, I've made a rule to never buy anything with the intention of sewing it to fix it. But since these items were thrifted or on their way out the door, there was less financial risk involved and so I went for it. There's something so pleasing about wearing an item of clothing that's been customized to your wants and needs. Like with the blouson top, it can bring an item back from the donate pile (I had decided I hated those high-low hems and pushed the T-shirts into storage), or just give it that little extra tweak that makes you love it even more. My pants situation still needs to be addressed (I'm not sure whether to bother re-hemming them and wear the belt or whether to just keep looking for a better-fitting pair), the belt may need to be returned, and I really need some boots or shoes that really work with men's pants (I ended up returning the Adidas sneakers, so out of luck there, too). Next step: giant Zappos order to try different brands and sizes (free shipping both ways) and more pants-thrifting. The process continues.

Matcha Meltdown and Bad Days

March 18, 2019 by Kristin Purcell in Mental Illness

I"ve had a rough couple of days. I've been having trouble sleeping, but this is more than that. Basically, I was having a really good streak- exercising, going to the cafe, writing, and reading books. Hardly any YouTube to speak of. But then I had a bad day- couldn't concentrate on anything, couldn't get it together to write, felt furious with the barista for being a smug little bitch. He was making me and Matt get these weird drinks because they don't have normal matcha and their coffee is shit. And then I heard him talking about how he's going to Guatemala on some "origins" coffee sourcing trip. The kid's about 17. I hated him so much I couldn't get anything done after that. Matt and I left and I managed to keep from saying anything snarky or rude- I mean, we go to this cafe a lot. We want to be able to go back. I went home, straight to bed, cried a lot. Matt made me lunch, rubbed my feet, did some crossword puzzles with me. Why did I get so pissed off? Why did I sabotage the day? Because of some annoying 17-year-old? Yup. That kid thought he had life all figured out, just like I did when I was 17 and went to Kenya. I don't remember being smug, but maybe I was. Regardless, this kid embodied everything I wish I could get back from my youth: confidence, idealism, optimism. It felt like he was throwing it in my face, and it hurt. A lot. So much that I turned hopeless and bed-ridden. I stayed that way the next day, too. Trouble sleeping, tried to get out the door to the cafe, then the sudden need to lie down with my coat on. I couldn't face it. This life that I've botched so badly. These pathetic little tasks that I've set up for myself to do. My habit tracker. My blog. My self-absorbed little world where I collapse and Matt saves me. I found myself feeling like my rigid schedule was closing in on me. 8:30am: Get up. Drink coffee. 9am: Exercise, shower. 10am: Cafe, try to write. 1:30pm: Home for lunch, lie down or read. 5:30pm: Start cooking dinner. 6:30pm: Finish dinner. 8pm: Bed. Maybe a crossword puzzle. And then wake up and start all over again. I did this every day when Matt was in Germany, and before, and since. I apparently need 12 hours of sleep- and this is on the good meds. Any less than that and I'm zonked. Exercise is just so much work. The only time I felt good was at the cafe. Afternoons and evenings were spent warding off "the bad feeling," a horrible feeling that sets in every night after dinner. It's not anxiety, sort of depression, completely awful. But the time at the cafe, that was good. I felt productive, creative, intelligent, thoughtful. I relied on those couple of hours every day as the one good thing I get. This little time slot where I could build up some self-worth. But after that day with the smug kid, I felt like it was all gone. I would never be able to rely on those hours at the cafe. It would be a crapshoot like the rest of my day- Will I sleep through the night? Will I be able to exercise? Will I be able to eat the same thing today as every other day? Will I be able to ward off the bad feeling? Will I be able to check off everything on my habit tracker- like brush teeth, do skincare? That time at the cafe felt like a sure thing and now it's not. And so I shut down, felt hopeless, like I couldn't rely on ever feeling good again. When there's so little time to work with, all I ask is that some of it is consistently positive. Now it feels like that's gone- the magic is gone. I've been jinxed. Matt says, "It was one bad day. Not every day will be the same." I know he's right. So I think I need to try to free things up a bit. I tend to get very rigid: Minimalism, capsule wardrobe, meal schedule, diet, exercise. And I have a hard time switching things up, letting things vary here or there. Especially with diet or exercise, I am practically obsessive. If I don't know how many calories are in it, I don't eat it. I can't just randomly change my speed or time on the treadmill. I have to stick to the schedule. At what point does all of this rigidity become superstition? I'm trying to ward off feeling bad all the time by keeping my rituals, keeping everything on time. But the fact of the matter is that there is no guarantee, no special protection from feeling bad. I'm still mentally ill- doing a bit better, but still sick. And not every day can be as good as every other. What may seem obvious to some is actually a scary thing for me, because a bad day for me can be a really bad day. It can mean suicidal thoughts, self-harming thoughts, deep regret and remorse and hopelessness. I know things can't always be perfect, but the chance of having a day that bad shouldn't even be on the table. My doctor says my brain is slowly changing, even though I've been on the same meds for a while now. I have to wait and let it heal. Maybe at some point there will be a safeguard from the worst days. But I'm still waiting, still waiting and watching and hoping.