Sunday, December 29, 2013

History Rolls On

bart train

The train is buzzing beneath me as it surges from station to station, but I am so accustomed to this kind of motion that it is hardly noticeable. Carefully, I avoid brushing against the passenger who occupies the window seat beside me, though my vigilance is not monitored consciously. It's a visceral thing. I don't need to tell my body to obey the rules.

A book is held open in my lap. I am "lost in another world", as readers are often described, immersed in layers of stories from my past. Odd Girl Out, by Rachel Simmons, is a thoughtful extended opinion piece on a uniquely feminine form of violence: the abusive social tactics employed by many middle- and high-school girls. Yes, we ladies can be vicious, although we tend to perpetrate a quieter kind of violence. I have read the book three or four times--maybe more--since I was in middle school myself.

At first I absorbed this anti-bullying treatise like a manual. This is how to gain power, I thought. Now, with no daily social status to manage--I dropped out of college and work at home--and considerably more perspective, I feel sad and a little bit flummoxed. Luckily, my reflex is to remind myself that I don't have to have everything figured out right away--or ever.

The train conductor announces the name of the station before mine, and I look up. Inadvertently, I almost cross gazes with someone from my old high school. She and I weren't close. To magnify the already awkward situation, she's sitting on the lap of one of my first high-school boyfriends, a very nice guy who I dated freshman year and treated abominably. I am ashamed and want nothing more than to escape.

[Photo by Steve McFarland. All of the above happened on the way home from the meetup I talked about earlier. Seeing her was pretty wonderful, although I'm sure I have unprocessed emotions to deal with soon.]

Beginning Another History

A couple days ago, my estranged best friend reached out to me on Facebook. It's probably been about a year since we last talked. Her message basically said that she still loves me and wants to reconnect. Immediately after reading it, I burst into tears--the kind that are commonly described as "ugly sobbing". My sudden, intense reaction was a surprise. But the morning was weird even before that: I woke up an hour early, soaked in sweat and coming out of hectic dreams.

Anyway, today I'm going to see her, which is a nerve-wracking prospect. This is someone who I've treated really badly in the past--mostly due to mental illness, but that doesn't excuse it--and she's somehow always forgiven me. This girl is such an incredibly kind and understanding person.

I am looking forward to the meeting, because I missed her more than I realized, but I'm also apprehensive. We haven't seen each other in so long, and there are all these difficult emotions wrapped up in the situation. But I'm armed with pretty perfume, sparkly cream-colored nails, and a yellow bow that I made last night. Those things will help me deal.

Wednesday, December 25, 2013

Loose Thoughts

Here I am at a Christmas party, curled up with my laptop, playing Scrabble on Facebook and listening to other people's conversations. I hate socializing. Parties are so stressful. I wish I could retreat into my room and watch Rules of Engagement instead of being out here.

I can't wait 'til I'm an adult so I can never have a party ever.

I love my friend Kate, but I feel like she's vastly superior to me. Doing cool projects (photography meets embroidery!) and being productive and not dropping out of school. Of course, my self-condemnation isn't wholly (or even mostly) based in reality--it never is.

Stupid post-Christmas blues. I am floating in an armchair, unhinged and purposeless...

The New Year Cometh

Merry Christmas! Fast away the old year passes, fa-la-la-la-la, la-la, la, la. Accordingly, here are my resolutions for 2014:
  1. Be a better bunny mama.
  2. Get more exercise.
  3. Stop picking at my face.
  4. Stop picking at my fingers.
  5. Update this blog more frequently.

Tuesday, December 24, 2013

Freudian Paper

Who Will Survive Freudian Collage Scanned 12/24/2013

A recent collage.

By the way, one of my goals for the new year is to update this blog more frequently. I'm still trying to figure out how I will make that happen.

Wednesday, December 18, 2013

Filial Drama Blah Blah Blah

Mom, Dad, you probably shouldn't read this post. (Yes, my parents read my blog(s).) At best it will be a bummer, and it seems highly possible that it could hurt your feelings. Honestly, no one should read this post, since it's rambling and vague, and therefore probably not very interesting.

I feel sad to see my sister going through things that are similar to experiences that scarred me when I was her age. I am not casting aspersions on our parents, or at least I'm not trying to--it is unreasonable to expect people to be perfect, and being a parent seems incredibly hard. Being a kid is also incredibly hard, but in a more passive way. You have a lot less responsibility. I do tend to side with the children in family conflicts, because I view having kids as a fundamentally selfish and immoral thing to do. (That seems to be an unpopular or at least uncommon opinion, and obviously I don't hate everyone who has kids; there are many different situations in which people have children, etc.)

It's also very stressful/upsetting for there to be family turmoil going on. Upsetting to me, I mean. Of course it's waaay less stressful than if I were directly involved in said turmoil, but the tension still bums me out. Also, I don't want to talk about this with other members of my family, because I don't want to make their struggles all about ME ME ME, you know? I fear that I have a tendency to do that, and it's something I want to suppress. But I do have lots of feelings, and I need to express them in some manner, so I'm writing this prosaic, wordy blog about it.

I feel ruined by experiences from my youth, dating back to before I remember and ending around age seventeen. Nothing after that has particularly marked me in a negative way, at least not that I'm aware of. The therapeutic work I've done since then (with the help of professionals) has been HUGELY helpful, but that's kind of a different phenomenon. But obviously I'm not "cured", since if I were totally mentally healthy, I wouldn't use words like "ruined" as self-descriptors.

Going back to my initial point: I'm terrified that my sister will deal with the same fallout and misery that I did/do. I feel anxious to try and prevent that (as if I could). Though it is to accept or even entertain, I realize intellectually that I am not responsible for her happiness or the health of her and my parents' relationship(s) with each other. At the same time, I feel that if I can possibly protect her, I should. But you can't protect someone from the strain of life and the tragic miscommunications that inevitably happen interpersonally. Everyone has to go through that, simply by virtue of being a human who relates to other humans. I can do my best to be sympathetic, respectful, and kind to all parties involved, but realistically that is all I can do. I think.

Now another piece of my incoherent angst is saved for posterity! Hooray!

Saturday, December 14, 2013

Winter Flame Flowers

Fire Orange Roses 12/14/2013

My used-to-be-neighbor was a wonderful gardener, and some remnants of his expertise remain in his yard. Occasionally I sneak nonchalantly stroll in there to take outfit photos, and I get to see things like these fiery roses.

Fire Orange Roses 12/14/2013 Fire Orange Roses 12/14/2013

[Cross-posted on my style diary.]

Thursday, December 12, 2013

2013 Christmas Decor

Christmas Decor 2013

It's beginning to look a lot like Christmas! I love being surrounded by "signs of the season".

Christmas Decor 2013 Christmas Decor 2013 Christmas Decor 2013

Friday, December 6, 2013

Cuddle Monster

Steve's Puppy Beast

My friend Steve's puppy is named Beast. He is so adorable, as is the other little one in the background. I am grateful for dogs.

Thursday, December 5, 2013

Festivity

christmas dinner


"There's a happy feeling nothing in the world can buy, when they pass around the coffee and the pumpkin pie."

I think about sitting with my family after dinner. We have moved from the table to the comfortable chairs. It's dark outside, but the room is yellow with lamplight. My dog nudges my hand. He wants to be scratched, and I oblige him. The grownups are laughing merrily. I chuckle as well. All this amusement comes from being well-fed and full of affection. The four of us are warm and happy.

I wonder if these moments only exist in memory, easily evoked by a couplet or a well-composed photograph, but elusive during the present. They correspond to something longed for rather than something grasped.

I remember the aching melancholy of my early teens. The sun would set early in suburbia, and I'd look for secrets in novels. I wished that someone would consume me the way I consumed those stories.

It seems that I am more invested in aesthetics than reality.

Tuesday, December 3, 2013

December Begins In The Forest

Forest 12/1/2013

Lately I've been going into the park to take outfit photos, and I can never resist photographing some element of nature while I'm there. It's weird--for the most part I find other people's nature photography dull, but when I'm the one behind the camera, the pictures fascinate me.

Forest 12/1/2013 Forest 12/1/2013

Monday, December 2, 2013

Frames Like Houses

Warning: body talk re: my personal preferences.

I like chubby people best. I want my partners to have some solidity, a physical presence that won't drift away. There's no romance in the word "bulk", but warm flesh and matching bellies, soft hollows for nestling and soft mounds for climbing--these feel romantic.

It is not an aesthetic thing. Affection comes out through my fingers, and they have to like what they touch. Your bones must match or exceed mine. People are built on frames like houses, and I can't come home to someplace austere.

Saturday, November 30, 2013

Leaf Fairy

Leaf Fairy 11/30/2013

I just scribbled this. Drawing can be so frustrating: I lack the patience to execute the kind of art that I want to make. And I feel devoid of ideas.

Gingersnaps

I almost finished the sonnet challenge that I undertook instead of NaNoWriMo. But not quite--I'm four or five poems short. It was starting to be a chore instead of a fun exercise, so I'm not upset that I gave it up. Here's the one I wrote for November 17th:

Rabbit teeth slice harder than you'd realize.
But you do realize, when the blood comes out
so quickly, like a big birthday surprise.
Yet you look at your bleeding hand with doubt.

"Am I really leaking?" That's what you think.
And yes, you are. You are red and salty,
dripping like an artist's knocked-over ink.
You're a mistake. You didn't have to be.

Don't ever reach between fighting rabbits
with your helpful, bare, earnest, eager hand.
You should probably break other habits.
Snap yourself back. Be a good rubber band.

This is what you get for trying, my dear:
A hurt finger. Hurt feelings. A new fear.

Friday, November 29, 2013

Anticipation

Therapist's Office

This is the waiting room at my therapist's office. I spend five or twenty minutes here every week, experiencing dread and boredom. I don't like going to therapy, but I usually feel relieved after my appointment, and not just because it's over. I think this EMDR stuff is helping me.

Wednesday, November 27, 2013

Jam Tarts & Pinecone

11/27/2013 Jam Tarts 11/27/2013 Jam Tarts 11/27/2013 Pinecone

This blog is becoming a bit of a photo diary. I'll try to post some poetry tomorrow to switch things up.

Tuesday, November 26, 2013

Natural Reactions

Nature 11/26/2013 Nature 11/26/2013 Nature 11/26/2013 Nature 11/26/2013 Nature 11/26/2013 Nature 11/26/2013

Marcus With Apple

Marcus With Apple 11/23/2013

My dog Marcus stole an apple from the fruit bowl. First he brought it with him when we went for a walk, clenched firmly between his teeth, but unfortunately there are no pictures of that part. When we got home, he rushed into his crate to eat the forbidden fruit as fast as possible.

Marcus With Apple 11/23/2013 Marcus With Apple 11/23/2013

This silly puppy makes me happy. Even when he misbehaves.

Marcus With Apple 11/23/2013

Monday, November 25, 2013

Naturally

Nature 11/23/2013 Nature 11/23/2013

Post-rain flowers.

Nature 11/23/2013 Nature 11/23/2013

Lichen on the apple tree.

In case anyone cares, I've been keeping up with my sonnets! I just haven't felt like posting them.

Saturday, November 23, 2013

Panda Behind Bars

Panda Behind Bars Panda Behind Bars

The bunnies aren't getting along, and I feel like the worst person because of it. Panda has actually gotten injured. These pictures were taken before it happened, but part of her ear has been torn off. It's awful. I signed on to protect her, and clearly I haven't been doing a good enough job.

Friday, November 22, 2013

Stomach Selfie

Stomach Selfie

My belly in flat greyscale. Sometimes I use photography to translate my body into something I can understand.

Tuesday, November 19, 2013

Reading Woes

I haven't read a book in ages. I feel guilty about it. At the beginning of this year, I made a resolution to read ten books a month. I kept it up until, oh, maybe halfway through April. Possibly I even got as far as May... I don't remember exactly.

I do read quite a lot, but it's mostly short-form stuff on the internet that doesn't require much of an attention span. I think it would be good for me to read more works that require commitment and concentration. But there's so much stress and anxiety...

I have sort of an all-or-nothing attitude toward this. Like either I have to read an entire book every three days or less, or I'm a total failure at reading. It doesn't feel like there's any in-between option. I don't know why I put so much pressure on myself! It's frustrating, because my logical mind knows this is stupid and self-sabotaging.

But it's probably not healthy for rational Sonya to condemn emotional Sonya as contemptible and idiotic. It's mean and it's also counterproductive. If emotional Sonya feels safe and cherished, it will be easier to move into reading more again.

Processing

I have trouble using the phrase "mentally ill" to talk about myself. I definitely think about myself that way. And I demonstrably qualify: I've had significant periods of dysfunction due to depression. I've engaged in unhealthy aberrant behavior. (Not that all aberrant behavior is unhealthy, but mine was.) I'm on fairly intense psych meds.

And yet, even when talking to my therapist, I hesitate to describe myself as "mentally ill". I secretly worry that someone will jump in and scoff, "No you're not! You're just not trying hard enough. Everyone copes with these feelings, but the difference is that they actually cope."

Intellectually, I understand that this is nonsense. My rational mind knows that. But emotionally, I regard myself as weak and a failure for "giving in", for being lazy.

I try to push back on that. By being kind to myself. Celebrating my small successes: I made cookies the day before yesterday! I walk the dog often! I took pictures for an outfit post! And I need to acknowledge that my struggles are struggles, regardless of how they compare to other people's experiences.

I had a really good therapy session yesterday. I dread going to therapy, because it's hard, but I usually feel better afterward. I wish I could remember everything that we talked about, so I could write it all down. But it's okay to not tackle everything at once. I don't need to have all my mental health stuff fully organized right away--or ever. It's a process. It's a process. It's a process.