Stockholm, you’re so beautiful!! The beautiful historic buildings and streets makes me wanna live there. Or at least tear one up and put it in the ground over here.
Like this place. This door.
With a hairdresser in my courtyard.
Not that one needs one when the hotel’s giving barber’s cuts for free. Obviously me and the little one took advantage of this to trim our shaved bits. Not our pits. She went first obviously. I joined her after two breakfast-mimosa’s like a scared child needing someone to hold her hand.
BUT! The barber ended up giving me a full fresh amazing haircut!! I just couldn’t be happier!
LOOK!
HOW HAPPY I AM!
No. but I was though. And celebrated with another mimosa before entering the ice cold but sunny and friendly Stockholm.
Luckily had this possy with me.
We don’t really know each other.
And with ma new cut and ma new sunglasses..
I can honestly say I almost felt completely confident.
(I know, so cool and all, but these are the first glasses over like a hundred bucks I’ve ever bought! Jokes, my husband did. What am I, made out of money?)
I know, btw, that’s not the “politically correct” (as you call everyone out on anything they say over there somewhere) way of using the term “jokes”. But I’ll do it anyway. I like it! And it goes great with a little snort á la agent Hart in my head when I write it.
(If you know the reference, you know. Google can’t save you here.)
Here’s another one of me. Expressing how little I care.
They care, on the other hand. About each other <3
What?! Fucking cute.
Then again so are we sometimes.
HAPPY!
As my jeans clearly states for themselves.
Oh, and we also saw the great Bob, for the second time. I cried. Mostly for the wrong reasons. And that’s all I have to say about that.
Seriously though can’t wait for spring. As much as love this coat, I can’t fucking wait to get out of it.
Bergen is today providing another perfect excuse to go away for a long weekend with my family.
So fucking stoked.
AND the three of us are divided between two rooms. My husband is joining us for one night due to work. Thank The Universe !
I’m traveling lightly. Airline norwegian is being a fucking bitch again charging all of my money for luggage besides carry-on. So! only carry-on for moi. Which I’m freaking a little bit out about. Not that I’m one of those people who bring entire wardrobe, squeezed in like emergency options together with ten of it’s family members. No. I am not. I just want them to be able to breathe. Because I only bring the really good stuff when I’m going away. Not the shit that’s been lying around three moves ago.
One must definitely not bring garments like this one though. The best of stuffs.
-the most special ones you love so so much, people with children wouldn't even recognize that kind of love
Which I wore last Saturday to this fabulous spot’s Champagne-lunches, Bien Bar.
What’s also fabulous is this interview VG -Min Mote did.
Another fabulous thing that happened last weekend is the little one gave me these shoes.
Wouldn’t have bought them myself, but I like them. She bought them because who has the strength to walk away from a good bargain? Plus she has freakishly small feet. She’s what that best friend in Pretty Woman would call Cinde-fucking-rella.
My feet on the other hand – very normal.
I therefore have quite the high hopes for this weekend.
Calling all forces initiating Process to perfection. We’re talking washing. Scrubbing. Trimming. Cutting. Sculpting. Spackling. Painting.
Moisturizing.
When I have time I want to feel as ready for anything possible when going on holiday. There’s also the fact that a holiday is also a temporary demise of your temple of a body. So you wanna even things out a bit -prepare a certain quota, if you will. (I’m a control freak, we’ve established this, and I have a problem)
I drink a lot of champagne, okay. I need to start hydrated.
I forgot to post the other day about how I experienced the Launch-day. I’m now quite over it and don’t remember nor feel the need to dwell over it. That’s something I love about myself, my psychologist not so much. My ability to ignore, suppress and forget my emotions <3
But why linger? The launch-day was excruciating. Now it’s over and I survived. I’m so used to days like that I no longer even fear them. And what’s anxiety without fear? Just painful. Like my wedding-day! You face the fact that you can A) die. Or B) plow through. Dying seems like such a final decision, so you plow through. And most times, you’ll get through. The others you walk away from midst. That’s also fine, you’re likely to survive that too. Nothing is that important you’ll end up ruining your life because of it. Your makeup might have migrated towards your chest leaving your face all blotchy looking like a map post global warming, eyes like a chihuahua on speed, screaming like a crazy person bumping into EVERYTHING possible bumping into.. My hip is still bruised and that bump in my head I got from closing the car-door on myself just now evened out. It’s a shitty shitty thing inside you to be feeling, panic anxiety, but it will pass.
Then you sleep for many days. Stop tequilaing. Turn off your phone. Switching from lying in bed by yourself, and socializing with the people you trust from your favourite spot in the sofa in front of the tv. Treating yourself. Wearing only your softest of garments. It’s nice. Never ever feel guilty about prioritizing yourself.
I hug and forgive myself whenever I can.
I am now over that stage. And have entered the Getting back in the world again! Which I have. Twice actually. One celebratory dinner at Colonialen with the first one, then last night at Lysverket with the other one.
Not as high stamina as Pre-Fårikål, wine hitting me like it did when I was 19 (obviously didn’t have class enough to drink wine earlier than that)
,but happy.
Today I’m also doing nothing. Moving back to my parents for a couple of days. Watching a movie.
Have a peaceful Sunday. And if you can’t, you’ll survive that too. Maybe next Sunday.
Got up at six today, not that that’s alarmingly early these days, but I actually got a really good nights sleep.
Probably mostly from exhaustion. But there’s not much I wouldn’t do for a good nights sleep nowadays.. Plus I’m also reading in bed now before dozing off. A great way to go. To sleep.
Reading Victoria.
Obviously.
I am a queen.
Last night I put the last buttons in all ma holes and packed my suitcases for today.
Followed by a rare moment my husband caught on camera.
This face.
It’s unbelievable how much help I’ve gotten from the people in my life. I feel so very lucky. I am lucky. But I feel especially humble today. I’ll either cry or put a wall up.. Either one is fine, equally tiring. The one only postponing the other.
Wish me luck, meet you on the other side! So much love for the uplifting words here and on IG, know that it means so very much to me <3
Friday, in two days, TWO SLEEPS: we’re shooting the collection. Then another SEVEN SLEEPS till
FÅRIKÅL Launch Party -AW17 Collection; CLOSER
It’s basically there^^
Lurking in the background
It’s, as anybody who ever created something (be that a masterpiece carefully composed in kindergarten it took forever to dry in the drying-room, or a beat that’ll kill on the dance floor), terrifying and exhilarating at the same time.
I’M IN LABOUR AND ABOUT TO PRESENT MY BABY TO THE WORLD !!
Everyone knows that feeling.
It’s awesome.
And when you reveal that shit; you don’t be afraid..! You stand tall and know that it is Great! Because it’s the only sample in the world there is. And it is you. And you know something and have felt something that no-bo-dy else has.
It is unique.
I seldom regret anything. My body may own a feeling or memory of regret, but in my mind I never allow myself to regret. Something I said about another person when they weren’t listening, a bad outfit, my reckless behavior those nights I drink like a sponge ( I’ve definitely seen a pattern of flashing whilst drunk..), how I used to do my makeup (Wow, that changes quickly -wtf was I thinking?!), some embarrassing post I posted when I started blogging (or, you know, last week..), a bad picture. -Like it or not, It’s all you! Don’t resist it.
And especially about the things we say.. You can’t regret any of that.. Because you wanna be prepared if people decide to confront you. I gather I’m allowed to every opinion I have! Because it’s all based on my emotions and knowledge at the time. You cannot expect people not to be honest and having made an opinion based on the information they’ve gathered? And the people who don’t get that.. maybe they’re not worthy of staying. Fuck ’em.
Like just now, I don’t know if I could use the term gather there. But who cares? I think it sounds great. Fabulous actually. Royal, even.
(That said, never talk in a negative way about the things people didn’t choose. If they were born with it – leave it.)
One thing I wasn’t born with ( smooth transition? ) ; this Fish-leather Choker. I absolutely love it.
Order on demand after launch.
Oh, and last weekend was probably the last party before the launch. So I went all out. In my bra.
The hibernation continues! Backstage photos from the shoot some time in the course of the weekend !
I started thinking this morning.. because I’ve been (I’m painfully aware of) having so many good days, I dare say weeks! It’s been utterly, totally wonderful. In my zone, in my cave -don’t remember last time I had to go to the shops -it’s like I’ve been living in one of those shelters or panic rooms built in case of natural disasters or a chemical explosion leaving the air toxic or whatever would force us underground to survive. And it just hit me, how fragile it is, when all of the rest of the world and its inhabitants can at any given moment barge in and destroy it.. this oasis, this perfected peaceful worry free environment I so carefully have constructed around me to protect myself.
I love those movies, where she goes on a spiritual journey, try to learn something about the universe or herself. Maybe it’s through a walk in the Wild, a trip with eating, praying and loving, a new life under the Tuscan sun.. She either learns something, about her self, where she was and where she needs to go. Her relationships. Grieves. It might be fleeing awareness, or it really sinks in and affects her for the rest of her life. She ends up with a knot pulled tighter anyways. A sense of calm, an answer. Love also has the tendency to creep in there. Seal the deal. Make sure we truly get the fact (and the punchline); she’s happier now..! I refer to this abstract character as she simply cause it’s more relatable to me.
But the rest of them, they take nothing from their experience except the full knowledge that they were happy before. They go home to find that life is messy. And that’s ok. Beautiful even. And her family do appreciate her (cause the little one drew a picture while she was gone and her husband really is the love of her life cause he..remembered something! I don’t know, but he’s the one yet again, imperfect as he may be). It’s really uplifting! Because life is messy. And the challenge is to accept that and dance along with it. That’s the whole point, really.
I really want to be her. We all do, right? Either to find a path.. Or realize we already did.
Right now it feels like I had to choose. The life alone, with no one to destroy my day. My routine and plans. No family, no husband, no children, no animals. No no-one to set me off. Make me go painful in my stomach.. Fuck. I’m hurting on my insides today. Because of nothing. An interruption. A step outside. I feel like I have to choose from up there or down here. Up there. Fully exposed, pains on the outside, emotional highs and lows, close relationships, messy!, laughter tears, food and wine and friends and late nights, feeling tired! sleeping in working hard -celebrating. Or down here. Facilitated. Safe. Predictable. With a system. You taketh and give back, there are rules and when crossed punishment awaits.. It makes so much more sense down here. I feel happier down here. Life up there is so painful.
Yet, happiness lives up there. Love lives up there. We’re supposed to be up there. To love and to hurt, fail and succeed. WE’RE SUPPOSED TO DEAL WITH IT -it’s life! Just life.
What about us that feel like we can’t? Not on the outside looking in, wanting to be part of it. More like a former participant leaving the party early without telling anyone. To go home. To facilitate. To be safe in his predictable system he’s created. Not knowing if or when he’ll join the party again. With the reassurance that he can. He can choose.
All I know right now is I want to go back to my happy place again. With so much work and stitches yet to sew I simply can’t afford the cost of life.
I LOVE it when I wake up just before the alarm goes off <3 It’s a magical thing and something that I’v been #totallyblessed with all week.
I’m (still) in a really good work-mood. I’ve currently built a wall between myself and the great outside. Which is okey since outside is in a cloud and you can’t see anything.
Which this one’s giving me an attitude about.
That should probably live inside..
I really am horrible at taking care of mah green friends.
But! When one has a fashionshow coming up, three weeks to be exact, one has other priorities. That, plus I’m so occupied with me, myself and I and never aware of anything or anyone but myself.
That’s not entirely true, but a great excuse I tell myself nonetheless. I think the world would be a better place if everyone would focus more on the way they meet the world and less about judging others. I chose to meet the world with great fear and anxiety for instance. So, you know, find your own thing but do it with commitment and awareness.
That was basically the thought of the day. I have nothing else. Have a great day! If you’re being productive and perfect like myself, or just laying on the sofa wishing you’d never woken up. Wherever you find yourself in that range of current states; I salute you -do it with commitment and remember that tomorrow is Friday. After all.
I’m always proud to admit, even amongst a group of women with real educations and complicated explanations on what it means to be a feminist (we’re all fucking feminists?), that I’m made for being a trophy/homemaker/stay-at-home-kinda wife. In the 50’s. For reals. Minus the fashion style. Not my look.
But I love cooking, drinking wine whilst cooking, baking, reading, taking care of myself, watching movies, arranging our home for a good atmosphere, hiking, spending money, drinking, recently gotten very into taking care of myself physically by exercising.. I would be happy as fuck having that kinda life. I’m The Best at doing nothing. And making the most out of nothing. It’s a gift.
BUT..! This week has been epic in the creative/work department. I’ve really gotten into a good flow of being motivated and actually really enjoying work. Jumping out of bed early and not being sick and tired before late at night. And then I’m tired in the good way you know? Head hits pillow, twenty minutes -boom! you’re out!
Best feeling ever. And then there’s really nothing like having the weekend off when you’ve had a week of 12 hour long days of sewing. And not vacuuming. Threads fucking everywhere. I swear I found one in my panties the other day.
It’s also really important for me having plans to look forward to. I have to have something, a reason to put on a dress after not showering and standing sweaty over the ironing-board for days.
Friday that meant dinner with one of our favorite couples. Sushi. All the way. I even wore my 1920’s original kimono the little one got me from an American, greatest country in the world -I promise -you’ll love it, it’s huge, vintage shop for Christmas. It was freezing out, but hey, we’ve all made sacrifices to look good.
Look at that.. So full of myself. So aware of that picture being taken..
I actually don’t care anymore. I used to be so embarrassed having my picture taken.
I simply cannot even with those thoughts anymore.
AND ALSO, THIS FABRIC!!!
Deserves the attention. It’s like 90 years old and in perfect condition !! So amazed.
And last night, Saturday, was girls-night. Total crazy tequila-infused trashy dancing kinda girls night. No time for pictures.
Sofa and takeout today. Love it. At this moment I can actually say I’m one hundred percent happy.
I’m at that point.., we all end up here…, that point where I’m leaping for the stuff I once sat on my high and mighty horse and expressed loudly I wasn’t particularly fond of, or straight up didn’t like. At all!
I’m talking candy.
You know, when there’s a lot of it, (you just spent shitload of money and know you’re in for a treat) you’re still convinced you’ll never be able to see the bottom of that bowl. You’re naively navigating yourself through that ocean of different toxic chemicals someone once managed to sell off as a food group, pushing away that caramel, making nonsensical statements like “caramel isn’t really my thing -it’s too sweet” (too sweet my ass), you’re still searching, pushing, shoving, ” NOT eating that blue one, I try to avoid the blue stuff -it just seem too.. un-natural? blue food?”
You think you’re above everything, you have enough. Ma bowl will always stay full.
You can’t imagine you’ll EVER have to steep so low and eat the stuff you don’t find 100% satisfying.
Life is GREAT at this point.
And then the bowl starts to get bigger, it’s content smaller. You’re now leaping, dizzy from standing up too fast after all that sugar – blood sugar levels plummeting, you can only see silhouettes you’re so dizzy, the silhouette of the white bowl -shining like a beacon in front of you –guiding you -to get to those same caramels “Just gimme those baby blues!!!” you didn’t “like” earlier. Shamelessly shoving everything with sugar in it in your already numb (toxics, remember) mouth.
It’s a sad truth. But there it is.
My bowl is now empty.
And I have to go on working without candy.
I think I’ll have a small break. Watch an episode of Farmen. That’s a show about Norwegian randomly selected celebrities on a farm fighting for their lives and milking cows.
Yes. It is a good as it sounds.
For the second time today; sorry for this post.
And btw, I will never.. I mean EVER!, be one of those people (same people not used to having anxiety who always yell that they’re never drinking again after a big night out), who’ll say I’m never eating candy again. It makes you crazy, yes. And it’s bad for just about everything. My skin punishes me for days after, you’re bloating, you get stressed.. It’s bad! But I fucking love candy. It’s worth it.
A while ago one of my close friends questioned my diagnosis as bipolar. Or maybe not question, but I find no other way to interpret this person’s words and eyes. The person attended to explain why I might be feeling the feelings that I did, experience what I experience, hell -the person also had alternative solutions!
I did not think too much about this odd conversation. This person is warm and, seemingly I’d say, understanding of others struggles. Plus this person was fairly drunk (and who am I to judge a person rambling after a drink too many?) and probably didn’t mean what it (we’ll call it it) was saying.
But then it happened again. Different it. This time I had a problem with. Maybe my biggest problem with it was my own reaction. I wanted to be cool about it, this person obviously doesn’t know what it is talking about and obviously needs to move to an island and live alone forever since it’s apparently unable to relate and have empathy towards other hoomans.
It was embarrassing how strongly the need manifested itself in my whole defense-system. So I tried to cut my head off of my body in an attempt to distance myself, protect my body from these thoughts I had flooding in.
Because my body knows. My body remembers every time. And my body didn’t deserve this doubt. My body remembers the feeling before it properly hits me. The weight of the rocks that grows inside of me and I realize I’m entering a state of feeling depressed (I’m really really really careful calling it suffering from depression and always say I’ve only had two proper depressions in my life. Don’t abuse this word). My body sees itself from the outside as my sense of awareness and logic thinking drifts away and leave me self-centered and broken with grief. It’s heartbreaking as I realize it’s happening again. I prepare my body to experience sheer hate and the the feeling of wishing to die for the next period of time. I remind it it’s not real and that it must not listen.
Don’t you dare take this in, body. Not for one second.
My body feels less social anxiety. Not that it’s allowed to leave the house as much. But it has no time for others thoughts.
And then one day it let’s go. I suddenly feel normal. With normal tantrums and problems, my familiar anxiety, my beloved ed never left obviously, my normal self-doubt, my normal work-ethics, I actually care!!, self-awareness of what others think of me, normal ups and downs, days of socializing and days when I don’t want to see anybody, some distance from what I’ve been feeling the last few weeks, some repair-work for that, really good days, self-acceptance and looking into my husband’s eyes looking for understanding for what’s been going on the last weeks. Which he always does.
And then there’s the superstar days. Where I just can’t keep up with myself. I want to do it ALL! I have no issues. I’m beautiful and have the power to achieve ANYTHING I set my mind to! I can’t stand still, my heart’s beating faster than normal, my sentences can’t form properly because my mind has already wandered to the next thought. My body is shaking of excitement, it simply cannot WAIT for what’s to come and needs to express EVERYTHING it’s experiencing. I take risks, I’m not sensitive to others emotions, I’m rude, I’m more sexual, I drink EXCESSIVLY to celebrate this AMAZING FEELING, I want to LOVE and live for these days, but the next day or two I sober up and the hangover is unlike any hangover alcohol can cause. It’s just not worth it.
There’s a big chance you don’t know how this feels.
(Unless obviously you’ve been or not yet been diagnosed the same, then I’m so sorry for you).
And I know we’ve shared, friend, days where you just didn’t know what the fuck went on last night. Did I just black out? Did I do drugs? Why was I dancing in the streets in my bra? Why was I so mean and pushed all your vulnerable spots to make you cry?
“She was probably just drunk, she has been a bit down lately. Stressed out? She has some demons, though..”
It’s a fine line and sadly very difficult to tell the difference in my generation and younger (because we’re all allowed to an ok with being open about our mental issues) between rebelling and the occasional blackout, and serious mental health problems.
Don’t be that person to undermine the one with serious mental issues.
Be like my other friend. Who sends me a text from the other side of the country telling me that I’ve read about it, can’t necessarily relate to it, and I think you are strong as fuck! You’ve been through wars. And the rest of us cannot even tell.
I had a photoshoot in ma bed and ma bathroom to illustrate and make visual my emotions around this topic.
You like? This is me on a normal day.
Absolutely nothing to do with bragging about the fact that I wore this turtleneck to a job-related meeting!!!
So proud. So sweaty. TURTLENECK!!! Number one garment to instigate blushing from attention leading to total panic and don’t giving a fuck about what’s happening -I NEEDS TO GET OUT! But I nailed it. Blushed once but regained control.
I must stress, and this is not to say nobody can take bits from what I’m writing and relate to their own relationship with food. I’m happy if it does! But having an ambivalent and stressful relationship with food is not necessarily the same as having an eating disorder. I have had most of the specter of eating disorders there are, most people with an ed do at different stages, but I’ve struggled mainly with anorexia nervosa. Which is very deadly and very painful physically and mentally.
So! That’s said and done!
I made carrot cake yesterday btw. My absolute favourite.
I’ve only made that good a carrot cake once. Which was when the founder of Glassnote and his wife visited from the US. So that was lucky. I’ve always been an impatient baker. And was quite the happy chap yesterday 😀
I had three slices.
And to the people altering cakes and other deliciousnesses with you allergy flours and stevia plants and protein shit, I feel sorry for you. When one cakes, one should cake properly. Show some respect.
Like Ivanka. She knows we all need cake in our lives. Be more like Ivanka.
I’m actually quite upset about it this morning, that I have to wait a whole year till next time.
But I did get this tee from a friend for my birthday. So in that sense I’m also quite satisfied and probably will be for a while now.
Also I got this plant.
And this plant. Posing over…
…This breakfast. (notice the chocolate milk. I had 3 glasses)
Yesterday was my proper celebration. Has to be on my actual birthday. I don’t know about you, at least that’s how I roll. No fear, not a care in the world what day of the week it is -ISSSS MA BURRRRSSDAY AND I’MMA PARRREYY.
My 27th birthday…
I feel so young.
Yet the feeling of having no time to loose either is slowly creeping up on me. I have a strong feeling that the best is yet to come. My good highly reasonable head also prepares me for the opposite. Maybe the time to Brace, brace is just around the corner. Or maybe I can sit back and will never have to for the rest of my life.
I had an amazing night last night. Pre-drinks with his and my parents (obviously also the first one present) to french la musique at our place followed by beautiful food at restaurant 1877. More drinks, shameless winks and a shoedrop and a piggyback ride all the way to the taxi, then home. Lovely.
I was even able to perpetuate this joy in a couple of exemplary bathroom selfies anno 2017;
Starting off with a Classic selfie. Angle is errrrryting. One might actually say this is the Rolls Royce of selfies.
Then there’s the Full figure, hand on hip, one foot running for his life away from the remains of the body-selfie
The “wtf is this..? is that a random pose?? tryin’ to have swag or just born withit, are you in some sort of mid-action-shit?!?, is it staged?!??!! WHAT IS IT!!!!” -selfie
(for me this is natural btw, don’t have to stage no thing, just comes natural to me. I just look cool)
The mirror selfie. Also classic.
Very practical, gives full control over everything. BUT your hand. Gives huge hands.
Group selfie. Not known for their quality or over-all satisfaction of it’s participants, but still known as the best selfies.
Anyway.. my thoughts!! Came home around 0130 and ate leftover pasta with my husband watching an episode of How to get away with murder, and just remember thinking to myself; I’m hungry. I’m still hungry. Normally I would’ve shook my head (lovingly) at the other one and asked him how he could still be hungry after a three course meal? That we consumed 4 (!!!) hours ago?
I remember thinking I hadn’t even been that full leaving the restaurant several hours earlier.
So I started, yet again…… calculating. What we all do when left unsure of what to feel or think about ourselves. Don’t lie, you’ve done it, -you go through the list.
I had breakfast.
PLUS hot chocolate. Must not forget hot chocolate. Full fat milk-hot chocolate..
50 min run.
a fucking handful of FUCKING ALMONDS !
pathetic
and ACTUALLY made justifiable in my head, since going out for a three course meal later..
and now, the meal, a three course consisting of a bowl (more like the bowl you pour your soy sauce eating sashimi in ) of soup, delicate filet of fish followed by spoon of sorbet and two truffles.
And to think I was still hungry !
I fucking was. And the pasta was fantastic. And I just, I woke up this morning still hungry. Rolled over and said out loud Enough. I’m done now. I want to be done now.
So today I’m baking myself a cake. 1) I don’t call sorbet a desert. 2) I feel like cake. 3) I’m 27 now and don’t have time for this bullshit, I have to grow the fuck up; I have a job to do goddammit 4) I’ve been tired for two months now, working so hard – going nowhere. I want to be stronger than this, happier, I wanna run further than this! Running has been so hard lately.
And these thoughts.. These cycles, if you will.. They tend to come and go with us eating disordered people. At least those of us who want to get better. And while our weight might some times fluctuate, it can be a little or a lot, loss or gain, it also might not fluctuate at all. The core of the problem is mostly settings. Are my settings set in a way that makes me anxious, scared, shameful, angry and depressed around food? Telling me to stay away from it, but all it really does is pull me towards it? Makes me think of it EVERY second of EVERY day and night? Are they set in a way that makes me feel that I don’t need food? I’ll just lay here and give up. Waste away. Not care. Or are they set in a way that makes food a non-issue? A necessity? A family member you can’t stand, but HAVE to sit with? A gift to your body? Acquired nourishment? Or dare I even say it; a feast..? Something you want?
The different settings may have very different outcomes, or they might just look the same. We never, I never, know how an eating disorder looks like. I just know that I’ve been bad in my head lately, my settings have been off and I need to change them. I want to change them. Because with all that energy given back I can really do a lot of shit this year.
27 – I greet you! With a fresh pair of settings! Whatever that means. I HAVE A CAAKE TO MAAAAKE!!!
(And for the record, I did have more for breakfast yesterday than that egg and piece of bacon. Not nearly enough, but definitely more. I just thought it was a really cool picture)
A woman I know who has a very special space in my heart, and she has this space entirely on her own, said to me not long ago something like this:
“People were just drawn to you growing up. There’s something about you, everybody was in love with you.”
I don’t remember if these were her exact words, but down that line definitely. It was just the most peculiar beautiful thing I’d ever heard. And I grabbed it, took it in immediately.
I thought I was special once. When I was five. I specifically told my mother and our neighbors that I was, nay, knew I was special and was gonna do great things. GREAT things. I knew something everybody else did not. I didn’t know what exactly, but something..
This feeling sort of stuck for a while. Then it begins to fade. It looses small pieces and remembrance along the way. A little chunk getting yelled at in second grade for not being quiet. BIG chunk the day you walked into high school your first day. Alone. Insignificant. First time blushing. Getting your period on your final exams and therefore forced to leave early without having the courage to say why. Nobody looking up when arriving, nobody noticing when you left. You slowly realize you’re not special. You’re just like the rest of them. And you imagine you start disappointing the people who once looked up to you, like you yourself once did, because you’re only human. You’re like everyone else trying to hide that you too once had more pieces.
And then somebody from your past says something. Something that you first meet with laughter, suddenly touches you. The truth you’ve been holding on to for so many years, and now use to shield yourself from getting too excited, being vulnerable, believing what others tell you. Because your own truth tells you they’re lying. But this compliment, I haven’t received anything like it. And she stated it like a fact. Like something I should’ve obviously known?? But strangely enough I took it in. Could’ve been the champagne-haze or the rain ten centimeters from our stools on the paved sidewalk, but I took it in as mine and kept it.
I got somewhat reminded of this this weekend. Not necessarily that I was special to all of the human race (come on..), but that I was at least special for some. There are some people that saw you in a different way than yourself at that time when you started loosing your chunks. The most vulnerable of times that define you more than you wish, and now only feed your fears.
I’m not feeling very well today. You can tell, can’t you? So I’m, in my head, literally picking up those pieces. Not the crumbles, only the biggest ones. I matter. I’m noticed. I’m important. I am kind -and that matters more than my paycheck. Or my reflection of myself. I am beautiful.
I am good, more importantly I have done good. At least by some. I’m worth loving. By many! (I’ve never doubted you Vegard) I am one of a kind, and can do great things. Things no one else can ! I am Viktoria Lutterloh Aksnes, and I am special.
This also include me running home to my mum and not working for the rest of the day. But that’s fine?
l’ve fallen into the habit of sleeping until noon and starting work at 1500. Going to bed at 0300.
I’m usually an early bird (-ish) and generally feel like a better person with my shit together when I get up early and go to bed around 1200. But my creativity doesn’t seem to agree. So I start each morning squinting at my cell phone, sighing over the fact that I lost at least 4 hours of my day, feeling like an utter failure. Then I ask myself if I, unawarely, went out and had ten drinks the night before, before realizing I didn’t and have a silent conversation in my head about why I feel like a trainwreck. It takes me at least an hour to consume breakfast and coffee and get out of my zombie-like state and convince myself that it’s worth it.
Been good at taking breaks though. Which is key. Last night I went for a movie and a burger with a friend, slightly hungover from Tuesday when I had birthday-drinks with friends to celebrate the first one’s 30th yet again (because one can not celebrate one’s self too many times). And my own birthday’s coming up. I plan to celebrate myself at least three times.
Saw The autopsy of Jane Doe, which I would not recommend. If you’re a horror movie lover like myself, it’s a huge disappointment. But it felt good getting out of the house none the less. And the burger was not disappointing.
I also got a haircut. And everyone with short hair know that feeling of a newly-buzzed neck.
It’s like being reborn and seeing the light for the very first time.
With an unusually large left hand.
And yes, I still have those strands of hair rebelling against my newly purchased hair-products (that promised me the world and eternal happiness) and won’t lie down for nothin’! I’m slowly accepting them as part of me now. Like sleeping in.
Haven’t been running or doing yoga, which I’m also trying to accept. Maybe I’m subconsciously rebelling against the universal January-pressure of being “good”.
I AM good.
Great actually!
*silently sobbing*
One can’t do it all though. And I am doing work. And one must make sacrifices. Don’t understand those people who can balance work, a social life, kids for crying out loud and still manage to stay sane. I seem to only get one down at a time and have all the respect in the world for them.
I have to get back to the sewing machine. After just one more cup of coffee.
When you’re working really hard. At least you’re supposed to.. So you stuff your face with chocolate, open up a bottle of red that’ll trigger your rosacea thinking it’ll jumpstart your creativity you know you have deep, deep, deep inside..
(and yes, I’ve been wearing this Harry Potter sweater for three days)
But you fail.
Nothing.
So now you’re just drinking wine watching Modern family standing by the ironing board for so long Netflix has to ask you multiple times if you’re still there… watching.
I give up.
Unplugging the iron and stepping away from ma hammer (because one shouldn’t operate heavy machinery whilst drinking) and sitting down with the actual intent of sitting down.
Hopefully starting fresh tomorrow! Hope you’re having a great weekend!
I can’t believe it’s over. Even though I’m fairly ready to grab 2017 by the pussycat, I’m already looking forward to next christmas. But I won’t get too excited, I know it would be a verrry long year.
Here’s a little bit (apparently we only had about 5 people at the party…?!), and I never remember to take pictures when I’m doing.. anything fun really, from how we did New Years eve.
We hosted, because we’re married now and supposed to act like adults, our first New Years eve dinner. The stick-meat. And it was grrreat success. All though I learnt a thing or two for the next.
Again; too busy to photograph the people around the table who definitely made the whole dinner, without my loved ones. Jokes, I made the dinner. The other one.. also. He did actually.
This one, Lisa, was definitely the only one wearing an outfit totally worthy of the occasion.
Not that I didn’t feel like a warrior-queen myself (or the rest of us) in my recently received vintage kimono, but obviously everyone had too much fun to take pictures of the rest of us. Plus Instagram seems to think my blog is about the little one and not me. Joking, it is about her.
No, in all seriousness, though; it is about me. IT’S ALL ABOUT ME! MHEMHMHEE!
But we’ll never know about the rest of us. All we can do is trust my words. We were all fabulous.
But these two in particular.
And after ALL of this photographing I did on my too short of a break that put a stop to me raising (I know you can’t say raising, but what was I supposed to do) my glass topped with champagne, I had a great night. And we all found ourselves dancing, when we were all seeing stars and had no business going that low, to Kanye and into the new year. Filled with more disasters. And one can only hope, more disastrous dancing.
So now I’m just working really hard (in my head at least) to get extremely excited about the year to come. And there are many exciting things ahead. We launch our Fårikål brand, farikal.com, and showpiece collection (designed by myself) inspired by traditional Norwegian craftsmanships. My little one has so much exciting in front of her which I hope to be able to support and be part of as much as possible. We’re going on our honeymoon.. So it shouldn’t be too hard. If it turns out to be I’ll obviously demand a haste-appointment with my psychologist. Since it obviously means I’ve given up on myself and life.
BUT! I doubt it.
And I already had a great start of doing new things. I hate going to the movies and have already been in 2017. Rogue One. Obviously brought wine in thermos (because we’re forced to because Norway is so conservative and won’t serve anything at the movies).
So dis how we do the movies now.
For what it’s worth.. I must say, because my blog tends have an agenda of it’s own and makes me sound like a self-doubting designer / dysfunctional alcoholic. I am not. Just a smidge. Most of the Days of my life, and I know it seems Oh so glamorous ! and fun all the time
….
I’m mostly in my sweatpants (who am I kidding; pajamas) binge-watching series on Netflix in my candle-lit cave with my husband -scared shitless of what lies ahead, who am I kidding; outside of my very doorstep, like the rest of the world. And like Frodo we all share the same questions and concerns.
How does one go on, when in our hearts we begin to understand there is no going back?
We will take the ring (?) to Mordor. Though we do not know the way.
There is no promise you can make that I can trust.
What about second breakfast..?
An last. But not least:
There is some good in this world, and it is worth fighting for.
Namaste. I have to go be extremely excited about something.
2017.. I always feel time goes Oh, so slowly the first half of the year. The rest goes by really quickly. Especially this year, speaking for myself. Getting married, as those of you who are, really takes it’s toll. Being married on the other hand is fabulous.
And with a new year comes great responsibility and expectations. Wow we’re gonna change for the better. WE’RE GONNA BE SO FUCKING AWESOME AT THE END OF THIS! Dis gonna be me now. Which can be fine. But I don’t believe people change. Not really. Sure most of us have greater potential than we knew of and hidden treasures yet to discover. But they were always there. Hiding in the depth of our authentic selves. You know, the selves we were when we were small and hadn’t started school, so we didn’t know of and had to be ashamed of what made us different. Interesting. Special. Unique. I’m not gonna go into a whole rant about insurmountable ambitions, diets and a life full of charity work and selflessness -that’s all good if you need a reason to start bettering yourself. I don’t know if bettering is a word, if it is it’s a ridiculous one. But it’s 2017 and all I want to do is care less. Stop involuntary entering the minds of others and create made-up opinions about myself. Not that this isn’t a constant goal of mine, but reminding myself now seems like a good time to do so.
Besides struggling with no exercise and loving enemies taking control over almost every meal I’ve consumed the past two and a half weeks (yes, my Christmas holiday usually is two and a half week long), I’ve done this:
Couch.
Candy.
Ginger beer. Because we all know they contain lots of it and that ginger is healing.
Pajamas. (Silk, so still totally acceptable and makes you ready at all times for unexpected visitors bearing christmas gifts).
Complained over killer-throath.
Popped painkillers and sleeping pills like a really self-pitying person. Which one Must. not. abuse. This is, in the doctor’s opinion, very important. Not for me. I wish it was encouraged and great for the mind, body and soul.
All in all this has made me fairly happy and all warm and fuzzy on my insides.
Like this sweater.
I also went all red in my eyes, which I was convinced was an infection.
It wasn’t.
And cost my husband 1000 kr to figure this out.
(Notice the double-posting of two almost identical photos of basically nothing just to show my cheekbones in that last one in that lighting.
The weather’s been shit. Except this day.
I lied. Not a good start of the year of Perfection to come. We had two. I just thought one sounded more dramatic.
Anyways. After a long time surrounded by family and disease there’s been no time for real conversations and romance with the other one. So tonight we’re going all out (in Norway we’d use the term ‘full tit’, which makes no sense at all, to express how full out we’re going.)
I guess, depending where you find yourself in the world, this is the biggest day of christmas, isn’t it? The 25th?
For us norwegians it’s all going down the 24th. Then there’s like this magical space continuum we call “romjul” that lasts until New Years Eve. Which is filled with whatever you want, really. For us it’s a bit of family get togethers, playing in the snow (if there is any -this year; HUGE disappointment), nice dinners with velvety, silky and sequined dresses, cakes and treats everywhere (which can be potentially dangerous and stir up a lot of shit for a disordered person -BUT no need to linger at that now..), christmas movies and hooopefully some time for me, the first and the last one to play some playstation. Which is very rare – only in christmas. And on that rare occasion we play one thing, and one thing only..
Ratchet. And Clank.
And I would recommend that shit for everyone. In fact, I am right now.
Anyway! Yesterday was our day. And ’tis was beautiful. We have quite a strict regime in our house regarding how the day unfolds. We start, early, with candy from our stockings (BEFORE BREAKFAAAST) and all the Disney stuff on Tv. With a slight interruption from a Czech version of Cinderella, with her nuts. The nuts grants her wishes.
Anyway! The morning is EVERYTHING you already love -but wrapped up in ribbons, snow, lights, candy and christmas trees, IN our pajamas -what’s not to love?!
Then we glam the fuck up.
Have christmas-drink.
(obviously with christmas ornament).
And then we wait.
For the stickmeat to be finished. (I’m not even gonna bother to try explain you what that is)
It’s lamb! Smoked and salted. And the best fucking thing in the whole wide world -let’s leave it at that.
We anxiously set the table.
Make warm and christmassy feeling to match our spirits.
Dad lights the chandelier.
Then we eat. Dad usually sums up the year and how proud he is of all of us with a few casual words to his girls. We say cheers and have, what I think ALL of us consider to be the best meal of the year and an absolute favourite food, a very merry time.
Of course I had to get a throat infection for the occasion and was (after popping pain killers and candy simultaneously all day) after the dinner utterly, totally caput! So I did what one always should do when your body tells you, anything really,
-I put on wool. If there’s one thing ma mama taught me, ’tis that you needs to wear wool against your skin.
Dad also shared some tips on feeling better in a crisis. Aquavit.
Which felt even better than the wool!
So I did two shots (the second one because I felt slightly better after the first and immediately craved more of that heavenly warmth soothing my insides), and was able to survive the christmas-present opening session. Which, in our family, last a couple of hours. We read every card out loud and watch the beautiful awkwardness of someone opening a present in front of people unfold before our eyes <3
And then, a very bad sleep. Due to my throat. But it’s ok now, because I got to blog!! And am now about to watch a movie with the little one. A christmas-spirited movie of course.
I’ll tell you more about the presents and new year’s plans the next time. But I dare guess both -equally wonderful..!
MERRY CHRISTMAS!!!
BLESS US ALL AND MAY WE ALL GIVE LESS OF A FUCK NEXT YEAR!
Wouldn’t have bought them myself, but I like them. She bought them because who has the strength to walk away from a good bargain? Plus she has freakishly small feet. She’s what that best friend in Pretty Woman would call Cinde-fucking-rella.
,but happy.
