Damaged Goods (Shoppe)

Hey friends

I know I’ve been M.I.A around here and have completely been up my own ass

But it hasn’t been for nothing

You know that quote by Albert Camus: In the midst of winter, I found there was, within me, an invincible summer.

Well it’s actually true in my case

During what has undoubtedly been the worst time of my life…hospital visits and crisis centres and panic attacks and crying. Oh man the crying…

Well somehow during that, I started fooling around with decoupaging and that led me to painting. Now I must warn you that despite how often I’ve been asked or told that I ‘must be an artist’. I’ve never thought of myself as creative nor did I have any interest in pursuing art of any kind other than just to please my own eye.

But I found that I can literally turn my brain off while creating or painting or decoupaging or whatever else I come up with. Hours go by, my hands and arms are covered with Mod Podge and paint…and I have created something. That feeling of accomplishment is so rewarding. It’s intoxicating actually. And it feels really fucking good.

And so began Damaged Goods Shoppe. I don’t know where this will lead me or how it will turn out. I can, however say that nothing, not even writing this blog has made me feel as vulnerable showcasing my art. I’m not used to that. I’m such an open book and sometimes even a little cocky but this is different somehow.

Anyway, for now you can find my creations on Instagram at

www.instagram.com/damagedgoodsshoppe

On Facebook at

https://www.facebook.com/damagedgoodsshoppe/

On Etsy at

https://damagedgoodsshoppe.etsy.com. 

and you can reach me through any of those sources or via email at damagedgoodsshoppe@gmail.com

I hope you’ll take a peak and I’d love and appreciate any feedback

-Angela

Shopkeeper of Damaged Goods

I’ve been working hard on creating

Advertisements

‘In the blink of an eye, everything can change.’

Sometimes I’m scared to blink

Im afraid that this current edition of my life

Will suddenly morph back into the one I was living 4 months ago

Although living seems like far too grand of a word for what I was doing

Existing maybe

Barely

So now even going to sleep is a gamble

Which version of myself will I be when I wake up?

It seems like far too big of a risk to take

And I’m not that much of a risk-taker

Not with my life

I don’t want to lose this stranglehold I have on my life right now

I’ve worked too hard

Struggled and fought too hard

To lose it all

In the blink of an eye

Me n Robert Frost and a room full of strangers

Three people graduated from the program today

The facilitators spoke about each of their accomplishments

The rest of the group was invited to share with the graduates our own thoughts and well wishes

Three strangers were moving on

To different stages of their lives

They looked relieved, scared, unsure, happy and apprehensive

They spoke about fear of relapse and of isolation and of the unknown

My peers talked about their wisdom, bravery and relatable experiences

I shared the only thing I could

‘In three words I can sum up everything I’ve learned about life: it goes on.’

And there’s something that’s both so reassuring and terrifying about that

It just all depends on the day that you wake up to

I looked around

And I just knew that each of them understood exactly what Robert Frost meant

I could see it in their eyes

That reminded me so much of my own

‘Expectation is the root of all heartache.’ Shakespeare

I’m starting a program tomorrow at my local hospital

It’s teaches coping skills for people with anxiety and depression

It is half days on Tuesdays and Fridays for 12 weeks, with a minimum of 5 Thursdays

It is a group format, run by a Social Worker, Registered Nurse and Occupational Therapist and overseen by a Psychiatrist

I’ll have a primary worker and access to the Psychiatrist during the program

At first, I was really intrigued and almost hopeful

Until I went for the info session

It was a few weeks ago

It was run by the OT who was jet lagged and seemed like she hadn’t a clue in the world of what she was talking about

I felt some of my balloon of almost hope deflate

I then went for an assessment last week with the RN, who sat impassively while I cried as she asked questions from her computer

I felt foolish and disappointed when I found out she would become my primary worker

I was accepted into the program and given a start date

Tuesday March 26

Tomorrow

I’ve promised myself that I will give it an honest open-minded try

After all, everyone has bad days and all that

And it would be reckless to throw away an OHIP covered 12 week program off of two measly meetings

Right?

Tomorrow, I’ll be there at 8:45 AM to start my first day

So maybe my balloon of almost hope won’t inflate

But maybe my ballon won’t pop either

And maybe

For right now, that’s good enough

‘And if you look at your reflection…is that all you want it to be? What if you could look right through the cracks? Would you find yourself afraid to see?’ nine inch nails

My greatest fear is similar to that of being forgotten

But it’s more about living with the knowledge that when I’m gone, I’ll be forgotten

Maybe that’s why, when I was younger, carving things like ‘Angela was here’ on desks, felt like such a necessity

This great fear of mine

It’s not that I won’t exist

It’s the that I will have left no discernible mark on this world

Other than my carbon footprints

I wonder if that’s the reason people have children…

To ensure a piece of them lives on

It’s like a taste of immortality

I’ve got no delusions of grandeur

I won’t have discovered some new disease or uncovered some brilliant theory that will propel my name forward

There’s no legacy to leave behind

One day…

Who knows when?

My life will end

And that will just sorta be the gist of it…

Seems anticlimactic after everything, doesn’t it?

It’s the thought of having endured so much and then one day, it’s just *poof* over

And there’s nothing to show for it

It seems like such a waste of time

Time wasted throughout a lifetime

Time eaten up by anxiety and panic attacks and Optic Neuritis and depression

Time that I can never get back

There’s nothing more fear inducing than running out of time

On a test, in a race

Needing more time

But looking up at that damn clock

And seeing the seconds tick tick tick

It’s like Tyler Durden says in Fight Club:

This is your life and it’s ending one minute at a time’

That realization is supposed to motivate you

To change

To live fully

But what if all it does, is leave you paralyzed in fear?

What if it just haunts you?

Always reminding you

That time is slipping away

And you haven’t done what you were supposed to?

What you were meant to do?

What if it just reminds you that what you had, you simply wasted?

I hate the idea of leaving behind a gravestone with my name

And yet I am even more terrified of the possibility, in which that might be the only mark I’ve left on this earth

‘The Jealous Are Troublesome To Others, But Torment To Themselves.’ William Penn

When your world feels small and your life seems shitty, and you see the people around you…people you love or like a whole lot…living their lives, happy and maybe not perfect but pretty damn good

How do you cope with that twitch of jealousy in your heart?

The one you don’t want to experience

And the one that it pains you to admit to

How do you feel happy for them…

And still long for your own

Without that green-eyed monster taking up permanent residence in your heart?

-Asking for a friend 😳