It's been a rough year, and rough years make for rough writing. I broke my heart, fell into a rage fire about #notallmen, threw napalm on the fire and danced in the destruction over fascists, had health issues, and in general have just been FUCKING DEPRESSED.
Time to reboot.
Stages of Grief, work in progress
I think I more or less have a handle on my heart feels. Acceptance goes a long way to help heal things, I think. Once you know who you are, and what you need, then if someone can't give it to you--well--it just is what it is, right? You can be sad, but what is there to be angry or hurt over? People are who they are, and life goes on.
The fiery cataclysm of my social outrage is still burning, but I'm trying to use it more as a combustible fuel instead of a destructive explosion. Let's be real... anything that volatile always has the possibility of getting out of hand, and I'd be an idiot to think I have it "all under control." But I've remembered I don't HAVE to wallow in the flames, and that's a big step forward, I think.
thank you, Kate
The health stuff I'm doing my best with. I really loathe the fact that I've tried so hard to treat my body well, and in turn it is trying to get in my WAY!!!! I mean, I started RUNNING, FOR GOD'S SAKE. I, who always swore I would only run if someone was chasing me! Who was content to die first in the zombie apocalypse! ME!!!! I'm running, and my body is actually giving me SHIT about it? It's just igry in all possible ways.
However, I did hurt my back recently, and instead of being out of commission for weeks and weeks I actually felt mostly better after about three days. And that's an amazing difference. So I guess this running bullshit really is helping.
I have a method. Don't mock it.
So, the depression...
My depression is hard for me. I don't feel like I really *deserve* it. I don't feel like my life is hard enough, or something. My mind knows that depression does not work that way. That it's chemical, and real, and that just because something is harder for other people doesn't mean your own struggles aren't difficult. Like, I get all that.
But I have all this guilt that my privileged ass is depressed.
Anyway, I'm trying to handle that by blunt force. When I start to feel guilty I just tell the guilty feels that they are illogical. And I am trying to do the things that help with depression. I eat well. I get enough sleep. I exercise. I take my meds.
But (and I can't really say that this is the most important thing, medically, but it's certainly the thing that seems to help the most on a day-to-day basis) I'm also creating again.
words are hard, but I do them anyway.
I write every day.
Charlotte and I paint together.
I crochet and make things that I find to be beautiful.
I sing.
And, while it means that some weeks I prioritize art over laundry (oh shit, I really need to do the laundry), in general I'm finding that creating things soothes me more than having a clean house.
Although, like, if any of y'all wanna come over and clean my house, I'm not going to say no.
At any rate, that's what's been up with me. And hopefully I'll get back to these blog posts. But, also, sometimes I will choose to put my energy other places for a while, and I have decided to be okay with that.
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