Caroline Ellison Price

Documenting It All

Lego Robotics

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I have to brag on Liam. In 4th and 5th grades, he desperately wanted to be involved in Lego Robotics. And he faithfully went to each practice, twice a week, and he went to the competition. One year, they made it to regionals, and he went to that.

Both of those years, he was an alternate on the team.

This year, 6th grade, he is on the team, not an alternate. And he is so humble about it. But, this mama is SOOOO proud of the dedication he has shown to something he cared about.

So here we are, at West Georgia Tech’s Waco campus. This is the first weekend in it seems like two months that I haven’t had a photo commitment, and Liam had Lego, so I was determined that we are going to spend this time together. So, we loaded up Porter and Oliver and the Switches and phones and all our gear to keep us entertained until 3 or 4 or whenever this thing wraps up, and here we are, to support Liam.

So proud of our boy.

I Don’t Know What To Call It

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This morning, I felt broken. I slept in until nearly noon. It was not a good morning.

Yesterday was a high day. I got some things done, got out of the house. I bought a passel full of envelopes for USB deliveries and got my first roll of film run through the Yashica Mat 124G off for developing. I visited with my parents. This is what I hate about my illness. Often, following a high day, I can expect a much lower day to follow.

It’s not that simple though– I felt better today a few hours after I had two cups of coffee and my medicines, but really– it equally could have been a bipolar swing that tipped my mood toward a functional level. My illness is such that minute by minute, swings can be different.

I missed a psychiatrist appt last week– not on purpose, I was sick and it just slipped my mind and at the time I wasn’t in the habit of looking at my calendar. I was in avoidance mode. When I called this afternoon to reschedule that appt., the receptionist asked how stable I am. The truth? I rarely have any idea. What I think of as stable is usually a little more on the manicky side of things.

I have really been more depressed than anything all Fall. But I don’t really want to up my Effexor dose because I just filled a 3-month prescription. *sigh*

It is what it is. For now, I see light ahead.

Sweaters, Schedules, and Cuddle Bugs

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My first post at my (hopefully) permanent domain name, under my very own name.

My hope for this space is that I can generate a steady writing routine here. This is for selfish, self-care reasons: my mental health suffers when I don’t write on a regular basis. Instead of trying to fit my writing to a niche, I will either write about what’s on my mind or what’s going on in life. Sometimes I will share posts on social media, sometimes I may not. This will be a stream-of-consciousness, journal-style space.

As has become usual, it was pretty excruciating to get up this morning and I was useless in getting the boys ready for school, other than to keep Porter company while he ate his breakfast.

I need to get back to making a daily to-do list the night before. When I was in the habit, I knew what to expect from my day. As it is now, I have a nebulous idea of what I want to accomplish each day, but there is no plan.

The New Favorite Sweater

Yesterday was a pretty momentous day, in a couple of ways: I finished a sweater I have been coveting for at least two years. Last year, I made a wool sweater for my sister-in-law. The sweaters are very labor-intensive, though, so it took me a full year to get up the energy to start another one.

I finished it off with an antique button from my Nannie’s first cousin Inez:

Now it is nearing bedtime and Oliver, my ever-vigilant cuddle bug, has fallen asleep on my shoulder. I don’t know what I ever did to earn this level of devotion from Oliver, but I’ll take it.

The reality is that all three of my boys are cuddly in their own way. Porter, my gangly teen, rarely requests or initiates a hug, but he never ever turns one down. And it’s Liam who often comes to tuck me in at night if I am in the bed before it’s his bedtime. He is never going to miss his goodnight hug.

I am one lucky mama.

Some Blog Introspection

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As I pigeonhole myself into a niche like photography or parenting blog-wise, I write less. I journal less as well– journaling falls off somewhat as I struggle to come up with words related to my niche. Writing is good for me, so this is a bad thing. And being realistic about the situation of things– I am not looking to be an influencer. I am not looking to build a brand outside my photography. Once upon a time, I might have liked to dream about those things. These days though, I just write to write. I am not looking to monetize this space or build a space where other writers will want to contribute or anything like that. I just want a safe space I can vent, and a pretty website to go along with it.

As such, I am moving to http://carolineellisonprice.com. I’m still redirecting to tog.mom for now until I can get some technical support figured out. My in-house tech support says I mess up things even he can’t fix and it is a holiday, after all, so I can’t get my hosting company on the phone. I’ve had the domain name for quite some time and just directed it wherever I wanted it to go.

I’ve renamed all the social media names from kitschy-things too….I still own a million domain names and some of them will point to the memoir-style blog. Some of them will point to Caroline.photography.

Thanksgiving 2019

It was a quiet, downtime Thanksgiving for us here in the Price household. The boys did whatever they wanted to do– which for big boys mostly consisted of video game playing. It appears they have re-discovered Steam so the computer is getting used for once. And Oliver re-discovered Tiyo, a TV show he loved when he was 2 and 3. Jared and Oliver and I got out for a ride to rubberneck and the growing crowd in the Walmart parking lot about 8 pm.

My family sent over a ton of rolls and the Mac and cheese they planned to have and it was yummy. We were supposed to host lunch today but I felt bad yesterday. This morning, though, I felt like I’d been hit by a train. We woke up in time but I knew I might be contagious when I woke up with a sore throat and chest congestion/pain. I feel a ton better tonight, but I slept for 75% of the day today. So, the festivities were moved to Lollie’s house. We quarantined everybody here since O said it hurt when he talked, too.

Back to Blog Talk

I’ve really tossed around how I want to do all this. I like having a named blog and I really considered going back to the old Tickle the Sun. And, maybe there will be a purpose for that domain someday. But for this season, it feels like maybe it’s time to just be me and just write about what I feel like writing about.

Because there is stuff to write about. Like my crazy-ass dreams that twist reality and leave me feeling like shit about my life and the relationships I have released. I have this running series of dreams with the same theme that my brain refuses to let go of. But, that is for another post.

There’s also mood journaling. See….I know the tricks to help track my mood and stay on top of symptoms and all that. But, do I do them? Not in a really long time. This space would be excellent for that as well, if I am being real about it. MySpace used to have this little mood icon. I could do something like that here, somewhere within each post. Then I could pick up on the pattern beyond October/November = BAD.

Anyway, stay tuned. Changes are coming.

It’s Beginning To Look…

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Like Christmas, a lot earlier than we ever decorate.

We never decorate until the day after Thanksgiving. And even then, it’s usually begrudgingly. Last year, we only pulled out the ceramic tree because we knew we were traveling to Nebraska for the actual day.

Fortunate, we are, and counting our blessings

Our family has made an early present of some key household items, and we are feeling very fortunate at the moment. Tonight, we cooked our first meal on and in our new gas range, and the new microwave that J and I decided was our present to each other. And even though it is not that cold outside, I am itching to make a fire with our new gas logs. But I don’t want to burn J out of the house, since he gets hot so easily. So….

I was feeling particularly festive last night, so we pulled out the Christmas tree (or rather J did) and after getting most of the lights working, we set the boys to decorating the tree. They did not disappoint and it looks great. J held Oliver up so he could put the star on, and he has been talking about that all day long.

I needed this season of happiness, after a long fall of depression. Here’s to hoping December is bright.

Titles are Unimportant

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This time of year is always hard.

It was hard before November 1998. But in the years since, I’ve only been reminded how fragile I can be, especially this time of year.

I try to remember to live in the present because I have a happy life. I try to remember that because I am warm and safe and loved now– that is the reason that the past can become so vibrant in the forefront of my mind. That is the reason I can explore traumas in small doses now.

I get angry because Bill got away with it. I get angry because I’ll never get an apology. That’s all I want. A simple apology. Forget jail or any actual punishment. An apology is all I want.

But that’s not how predators work.

I ended up in Willowbrooke in 2016 because Donald Trump’s cavalier, careless, predator attitude toward women– his red hair and stocky build even– reminded me of Bill. I was worried for our country, yes, but even more, I was reminded of another ambitious redhead I knew once upon a time. In the years since, the comparisons have died down because Bill is way smarter than Donald Trump.

But it was at Willowbrooke in 2010 that I realized Bill had been a predator all along. That my perspective had been way skewed all those years. I thought I was in love with him before that. The only reason I turned down his non-proposal proposal the week before I met Jared in person was because I was already in love with Jared. I was in love enough with Jared even before I met him that it was worth it to me to hedge my bets against five years’ worth of experience in Bill’s world. I didn’t know what love was until my Jared came along.

Bill tried to call me, once, after I sent that email to his work email that March of 2010, the week I sent it. He never tried to call again.

And he responded via email three times between 2010 and 2014, asking for various legal opinions. Kept it strictly on topic.

I sent him a copy of the blog post I wrote about it all a while ago, via FB messenger. I assume he blocked me after that, even though we weren’t friends on FB anyway. I haven’t checked because it doesn’t matter. I sent it for closure, not for response.

I know other attorneys for getting legal advice.

Jared reminds me often that professional success does not equal a happy life. I have no idea about Bill’s personal life anymore, but I do know that I got the better end of the deal, regardless. No amount of money could buy my current level of happiness.