A Reclaimed Hobby for a Reclaimed Holly

Necklace with recycled beads, shells,
metal, with silver bar clasp

I'm lucky. I have a job that fulfills me, volunteer obligations that challenge me, and am playing host to a 25-pound anti-social cocker spaniel. But, while I'm busy, I don't have the same demands on my time some of you might. I don't have children. I'm not married. I do have an appreciable amount time on my hands. 

Last fall, I found myself with too much time alone with just me and my thoughts. For the sake of my mental health, I determined I needed to occupy that time with a creative outlet. 

For years my mother has lamented my general lack of artistic ability. In school, I was the girl who could spend eight weeks on her flower painting, only to have it turn out looking like a giant blue alien ship in a sea of green phalluses. My ceramics projects always looked like the work of a one-armed squirrel. I sew like a blind, speed-freak chinchilla. I end up making walrus tusks with knitting needles. 

Necklace with glass and copper beads
and silver bar clasp

You get the point. 

I am not an artist.

With 32 years of failed arts and crafts informing me, I approached my quest for a creative hobby with some serious trepidation. Was there something out there that would satisfy me creatively and appeal to my personality? 

Anyone who has known me for more than five minutes knows I love things that sparkle. Gold sequins infest my house like ants at a picnic. I have three, no four, pairs of sequined shoes. I have boxes of sparkly jewelry. I have a jar of glitter in my office supplies. I prefer sparkling wine. 

Bracelet with recycled wood and
agate beads and gold bar clasp

I. Like. Sparkles.

I also remember loving working with Swarovski crystals, freshwater pearls, and sterling silver at a jewelry-making class I took a few years ago. 

Aha! An idea. 

I can make jewelry. 

Excited about my new hobby, I headed to a craft store to pick up some supplies.  

Mistake. 

I walked into the craft store and just froze. Bathed in harsh fluorescent light and the noxious scent of 1 gabillion different DYI potpourri kits, I realized I was in over my head. I needed help. I needed an expert. 

I called my mom. 

Mom helped me navigate the terror that is the craft store and, thanks to her, I was able to make my first piece of jewelry. Followed by my second, my tenth, my...

You get it. 

Necklace with carved quartz pendant,
recycled coral and turquoise beads,
silver chain, and silver hook clasp

As I got more confident, I began to branch out. Why was I paying a ton of money for beads and clasps, when there are so many used materials out there ready to be... reclaimed! 

And thus, Holly's Reclaimed Hobby was born. 

Now, eight months later, I make jewelry that is a combination of new and old, recycled and reclaimed. I look in antique stores, thrift shops, and the jewelry boxes of friends and family for old pieces no one wants. Then I break them down to their basic elements and repurpose those elements into new jewelry. 

Necklace with wood pendant,
recycled ceramic and coral beads,
and silver claw clasp

I think the results are pretty wonderful. 

But I'll let you be the judge. 

You can find samples of my jewelry on Instagram, using the hashtag #hollyshobby. Of course, all the pictures in this post are also of things I've made. 

I guess the point of this post is to revisit and expand upon my Reclaiming Me idea. Reclaiming Me is all about devoting time in your busy life to you. A reclaimed moment is that one blissful moment when you aren't accountable to your job, your family, your friends, your volunteer obligations, your... 

Well, again, you get the point. 

A reclaimed moment is something you do simply for the joy of being you. 

Don't worry about finding the time. 

It's already there. 

Just worry about what you can do with it. 

Girls Just Want to Have Fun

Sometimes all your night needs is
some friends and half-price
drinks

I feel like my last few posts have been super serious - a divergence from my Reclaimed Self philosophy. Yes, I am still dealing with stress from work and from home. Yes, I am still dealing with lingering symptoms of PTSD. Yes, sometimes being Holly is hard. But when I stop and reflect, I realize something pretty incredible. 

Most of the time, being Holly is pretty damned amazing. 

Why? Well because I have a network of people around me who help me have fun. And, after all, sometimes the most important thing you can do is have fun. 

Our fabulous view

Tonight was a night for fun. My friend, Carrie, scored us some terrible seats to tonight's Pacers' game against the 76ers. But the view wasn't important. What was important is that I spent the past three hours laughing and leading a carefree existence. Half-price drinks at Kilroy's and a truly terrible basketball game made for a perfect recipe for unwinding and forgetting the troubles of the day. 

I firmly believe in the power of fun and the catharsis of laughter. I wish I laughed more than I do. But nights like tonight help me catch a glimpse of the less-serious, more outgoing person I could be. I like laughing Holly. I like outgoing Holly. She seems so much less fearful. So much less cautious. So much less reserved. Tonight's Holly is someone I should visit more often. 

The holy grail of the evening...

I like not having the pressures of work and my volunteer commitments weighing down on me. Tonight, my only goal was to secure a copy of a DVD from 2003 of Carrie dancing with the ENERGEE! - the Milwaukee Bucks' dance team. Supported by the texts and Facebook posts of friends and colleagues, I emerged triumphant (see photo). 

While I always like to win, the best part of this project was the fun it created for us at the game and through social media. Have you ever trash-talked a mascot? Not a team, a mascot? I'm not gonna lie, poor Bango took a verbal beating tonight. Have you ever had five complete strangers team up with you and work towards a common goal? It feels pretty great. And, if the end goal is something as awesome as a video of your friend with blonde hair, dancing for an NBA team, well all the better. 

I guess, what I am trying to say with this long island iced tea-fueled post is to not forget to appreciate the fun in your life. 

Seek laughter.
Seek camaraderie. 
Seek fun. 

I promise you, it's worth it. 

Running Out of Patients (puns intended)

The view from one of my beautiful 2012 training runs
Austin, TX is lovely in late January!

I don't usually use this blog as an outlet to vent my frustrations. After all, this blog really is all about trying to look on the bright side of life. However, I want to share an experience with you and perhaps garner some feedback. 
So here's my story: 

In February 2012 I was training for the 500 Festival Mini Marathon. I was running regularly and had worked my way up to about five miles a day. The more I ran, the more I noticed my legs were hurting, specifically my shins and my right knee. Knowing that shin splints are the plague of the common runner, I laid off for a few weeks, and iced and stretched on a daily basis. My shins continued to hurt. I couldn't walk across a room without them burning. And my knee would lock mid-stride. I couldn't pivot and I was reduced to wearing flats at all times. So I sought medical help. Three doctors, two physical therapists, and 24 sessions of physical therapy later, I was able to resume jogging. My legs were stronger, my leg muscles realigned, and my knee more stable. I was eager to put the whole ordeal behind me and get back to running, hiking, etc. 

Little did I know...

My poor legs after a particularly brutal PT
session. It hurts having your muscles
realigned!

Three months after my last physical therapy session, I received my first medical bill. All I could think was "oh shit, this can't be right." So I broke out my insurance book and reviewed my benefits. Low and behold, the bills weren't right. So I called the various hospitals and let them know I was having insurance resubmit the claims. Then I called my insurance company and explained the situation - basically I was being charged more than $2,000 over my maximum annual out of pocket expense. The woman on the phone with the insurance company was surly and rude and, frankly, pissed that she had to resubmit about 30 claims on my behalf. But, after 90 minutes on the phone with her, she finally made it happen. 

One month later, I received my updated bills. They were still wrong. I was still being charged above and beyond my maximum out of pocket. I once again called the hospitals and told them what was going on. I then called the insurance company and once again explained the situation. I was once again helped by an angry individual who seemed put out to have to rerun claims. But, after about 90 minutes, she made it happen. 

I went through this process twice more in 2012. 

Fast forward to 2013. We are now 14 months out from my initial doctor's visit and 11 months out from my final physical therapy session. I just got another set of medical bills. THEY STILL AREN'T CORRECT. 

At this point, all I can think is the system appears to be broken. 

To date, I have received six versions of my medical bills, - all for varying amounts - spent eight hours on the phone with my insurance company, and about six hours on the phone with hospitals. 

The lesson I've learned from this whole process is an unfortunate one. I've become reluctant to reach out to medical professionals when I'm sick because I'm afraid of the insurance process that will follow. This can't possibly be a good thing. Google should not be an alternative for a visit to my doctor. 

My most recent action has been to file a complaint with the State regarding my insurance company. Once again, I've spoken with the hospitals and let them know what is going on and they have, once again, put my payments on hold. Fingers crossed that someone, somewhere can make this situation better. 

I'd rather not depend on my Google M.D. for all my health care needs.