Day 91: Everything I Am...

I hate Celine Dion.

Look, I'm sorry, y'all.  She's got an amazing voice.  And yeah, if we're out at Karaoke there's a decent chance I'll do an impassioned rendition of All Coming Back to Me.  But none of that matters.  You know why?

Because of this stupid song:

She wrote this song for a man.  A MAN, PEOPLE.  Let's go ahead and dissect why I'm so angry with it, shall we?  Lemme make sure you've really taken in the lyrics.

I'm everything I am

Because you loved me.

Really?  REALLY CELINE?  EVERYTHING?!?!?!?!  Like, there was no foundation or basis for your being until this man came into your life?  You have no sense of self outside of what he shaped you to be?  YOU'RE EVERYTHING BECAUSE HE LOVED YOU?

It makes me want to foam at the mouth.  Honestly.  If it comes on the radio I start yelling at the speakers.

BUT...
 

I had a sudden epiphany the other day, when this--possibly my least favorite song in the world--came on the radio. If I forget that Celine wrote this for her husband. If I pretend, instead, that it was for her parents, then, suddenly, I don't hate it at all. In fact, it becomes a beautiful song that illustrates a truth that is known to all of us who were lucky enough to be cherished by our parents.

Their love is what made us into the people we are today.

It is the root of who we are.

We are, without a doubt, everything that we are, because they loved us.

So, on this eve before Mother's Day, I am going to forgive Celine, for writing the perfect parental anthem. She did it by accident, but I'm just going to grit my teeth and let that go. Because for every mother, father, step-parent, grandparent--for everyone who raise us, loved us, and helped us grow, this is really, honestly, a great song.




For all those times you stood by me
For all the truth that you made me see
For all the joy you brought to my life
For all the wrong that you made right
For every dream you made come true
For all the love I found in you

I'll be forever thankful baby
You're the one who held me up
Never let me fall, you're the one
Who saw me through, through it all
You were my strength when I was weak
You were my voice when I couldn't speak
You were my eyes when I couldn't see
You saw the best there was in me
Lifted me up when I couldn't reach
You gave me faith 'cause you believed
I'm everything I am
Because you loved me

You gave me wings and made me fly
You touched my hand, I could touch the sky
I lost my faith, you gave it back to me
You said no star was out of reach
You stood by me and I stood tall
I had your love, I had it all

I'm grateful for each day you gave me
Maybe I don't know that much
But I know this much is true
I was blessed because I was loved by you

You were my strength when I was weak
You were my voice when I couldn't speak
You were my eyes when I couldn't see
You saw the best there was in me

Lifted me up when I couldn't reach
You gave me faith 'cause you believed
I'm everything I am
Because you loved me

You were always there for me, the tender wind that carried me
The light in the dark shining your love into my life
You've been my inspiration, through the lies you were the truth
My world is a better place because of you

You were my strength when I was weak
You were my voice when I couldn't speak
You were my eyes when I couldn't see
You saw the best there was in me

Lifted me up when I couldn't reach
You gave me faith 'cause you believed
I'm everything I am
Because you loved me

You were my strength when I was weak
You were my voice when I couldn't speak
You were my eyes when I couldn't see
You saw the best there was in me

Lifted me up when I couldn't reach
You gave me faith 'cause you believed
I'm everything I am
Because you loved me
I'm everything I am
Because you loved me

Day 90: My Kingdom For a Fighting Woman

Okay, so...

This post kinda came from a mental rabbit hole, but whatever.  It's tech week, I'm tired, and y'all like it when I ramble.  Right?

RIGHT?

I went searching for a picture of a warrior woman.  I wanted to use it to make an image with the word "FORTIFY" emblazoned across it, for a Facebook post.  I thought this would take, maybe, two seconds.

I should know better.

So, let's start with this.  If you search "warrior" on Google Image, this is what you get:

My goodness.  That's a lot of dudes.  A whole-frakkin-boatload of 'em.  Not a lady in the bunch.  Let's just scroll down, shall we?  And see how long it takes us to find a woman?

 Nope

 Nope

AH!  Here we go.  Some women, at last.  But... hold on...

 Original by marko djurdjevic at deviantart.com

Seriously?  That's a thief, and a sorceress, and... Okay, that last one IS kinda cool.  But she's also NAKED.  She's got boots and drawers and then a whole bunch of accessories.  I'm not one to scorn a good accessory, but how is she gonna fight with her boobs flying all over the place?  Not to mention, that just seems impractical in the way of armor.

Okay, I think to myself, clearly this is just a searching problem.  Lemme refine my search.  Here we go.  Warrior WOMEN...

Da Fuq. 

Seriously, we got naked ladies, more naked ladies, and, oh yeah, some naked ladies!  Also, they're all very "oh see how pretty I am, as I stand here with my weapon of choice."  Apparently archers get a little more love.  They're allowed to actually wield their weapon, and not just display it like some geek porn check marker.
"I wanna see a girl with a big axe.  Like, a REALLY big axe.  But make her soft and vulnerable."

UGGGGGGGH!

Wanna see some of my favorites? 

You know you do.

Let's hear it for the mother of crows!  Who doesn't protect her heart, but has some truly stellar NIPPLE armor.  Cause that's the most important part, obviously.

original available from wallpaperup.com

"But, how does that protect your vital organs?"
"Oh, I'm not human.  Everything critical to life support fits neatly behind this chastity belt."
"Oh, well, that's--"
"Also I wax.  In this traditional high fantasy world.  Candles are expensive to melt down just for some grooming, but a girl's gotta do what a girl's gotta do."

This one is better!  She's got armor and a sword and everything!  Probably good they have her standing in a traditional sex kitten pose.  OTHERWISE WE MIGHT NOT HAVE NOTICED SHE'S A LADY!!!

original image from spynet.ru

I literally cannot even.
I just can't.

WHERE ARE MY FIGHTING WOMEN?!?!??!!  Not the ones in pretty poses, the ones "accidentally" being gorgeous while they fondle their bo staffs.  Where are the ones streaked with blood, screaming with unbridled battle fury at their opponent? 

I KNOW THEY MUST EXIST SOMEWHERE!

But I cannot find them

So, I'm off.  Leaving you with one final question.

What the hell is THIS shit?

unmarked image available for download at dreamstime.com

*All the image in this post are screenshotted from a google search.  Where I could find the original, I've tagged the source.

Day 89: Sometimes I Write Poetry.

I left my window open to the Spring
Hoping the air would steal into my room
And whisper in my ear of possibilities
Of flights of fancy and what may be
Of daydreams and hopes and longings

I left my window open and the Spring
Crept in on the heels of Night
Easing gently into my bed and settling beside me
Caressing my skin and teasing my senses
Murmuring a summons to my long dormant soul

I left my window open and Spring came to me
Like a balm and a blessing, a lover and a friend
Soothing and awakening and offering delights
That waited only for me to free myself
From the chill of winter's grasp

I left my window open and awoke to Spring
And laughed--glad
To finally see myself in bloom.

Day 88: Canker Sores Are a Life Metaphor

For my entire life, I've gotten minor aphthous ulcers (also known as canker sores) in my mouth. No one knows what causes them; they're not a herpes strain or any other kind of recognizable infection or disease. They just show up periodically (generally more frequently in times of stress) and there's no way to treat them, so I ignore them and they go away after a while. They're painful, but after all these years I've learned to treat them as minor inconveniences and just get on with my life.

 

 Behold.  I have an ouchie.

HOWEVER, a few years back, I got a MAJOR aphthous ulcer. It's the same as a minor ulcer, with a few tiiiiiiiny differences.  See, the minor ulcers are generally about 2 to 3 mm in diameter, and they heal in 7 to 10 days.  They're not super deep and they don't scar when they heal.  Major ulcers, on the other hand, are greater than 10 mm in diameter, and they're deeper.  Because of this they generally take 20 to 30 days to heal, and can leave scars.

 

And that, my friends, is what they look like.

 

And holy jeezum crow, do they hurt.

Anyway, I'm on my way to getting a minor ulcer this morning.  I can feel the damn thing starting, and there's NOTHING I can do about it, except sigh and realize that everything relating to my mouth is gonna hurt for the next week or so.  What's worse than that, though, is the little knot of fear in my stomach.  See, ever since I spent a week eating liquid meals and not talking because it was too damn painful, I've been afraid of getting another of these bad boys.  It's not a mind-numbing, can't-live-my-life kind of afraid, just a consistent, low-grade fear that spikes when I feel a minor ulcer coming on.  I'm always worried that this time it's going to blow out, and instead of those minor irritants I'm blasé about handling, it's going to become that horrible, incredibly painful experience that I really never want to have again.

In this, it is joined by a host of other painful experiences that I have accumulated throughout my life.  I'm not unique in that--the Princess Bride knew what it was talking about.  Life is pain.  For all of us.  It's also joy and pleasure and grief and bewilderment and struggle and delight, and while minor instances of each of these things is an almost daily occurrence, major instances leave a long lasting imprint that affect us always.  The joys and pleasures give us hope--hope that every day could blossom into an unexpected delight.  But the grief and pain affect us just as strongly--perhaps even more so--to the point where none of us live our lives completely without fear.  A small pain may, after all, grow into a large and debilitating one, that leaves us deeply scarred, if not permanently broken.

 

Or, if not broken, at the very least forever changed.

 

Yesterday on Facebook a friend of mine asked for a pep talk.  This is what I responded with:

"People are always talking about being strong in the face of adversity. I think they have it wrong. I think the most complete, most whole, most enlightened individuals understand that we are all fragile, and that fragility will not kill us. That we don't have to be strong or tough when we are feeling overwhelmed. That, in fact, it's okay to fall apart, because that is the process of life, and tomorrow we will pick up our pieces and carry on."

I think the idea that fragility will not kill us--that pain and all its harmful affects may break us, but that being broken is the essence of life, and nothing to fear in and of itself--is something that I am only slowly coming to understand.  It's one thing to say it, it's another thing to accept it.

But hey, I have time.  And this is what I came here to do.

 

 

Day 87: A Prayer

 Oh, beloved, I am lost.
Lost in the fear of what may come
And sorrow for what will be.

My fear is an impotent thing
Unable to reach beyond the screaming vaults of my mind
And so I cry to you without hope
For I have hope of nothing
Except that perhaps I am not alone in my fear.

My fear is shared by distant families
Who speak a different tongue
And live a different life
But love the same way that I love.
Families that are broken and incomplete
Mourning the loss of too many of their own
In the horrors of a war they cannot escape.

My fear is shared by those I see on the street
Those I pass each day
With whom I share a glance or word.
Who wonder when their child--
     Their sibling, their parent, their friend--
Will be called to shed blood
In this never ending cycle of violence for power.

I am afraid, beloved.
And I ask that you speak to me in my fear.

Speak to me simply so that I remember I am not alone
That I am joined in my fear by so many others
And perhaps, when I am ready,
I will remember that together we have our own power.

But for now, beloved, just speak to me.
For I am afraid.
And I am lost in the fear.

Day 86: Pins and Needles

I fell asleep on my arm in a weird way the other night, and when I woke up everything from the elbow down was numb.  I've cut off circulation to my arm before, but never quite that severely.  The pins and needles when the feeling started to come back were awful.  I kept hopping around my bedroom like a loon, flapping my arm up and down as though I were suddenly going to sprout feathers and take flight.

You've all been there.  You know what I'm talking about.  It's painful, even as you know it's doing a positive thing for your body.

 Like therapy.  Or Yoga.

I think you can see where I'm going with this.

I'm in a pins and needles stage of life right now.  It's kinda funny, because for someone who always identified as being incredibly emotional, I've become surprisingly un-adept at feeling things.  It doesn't hurt, precisely, but it's shocking to have sensation rushing back into places where there didn't used to be anything.  Sometimes it tingles a bit and then settles, and I decide I like it.  Sometimes it doesn't settle, and I have to carefully evaluate how I feel about it.  Once or twice I've even sat bolt upright, shaking my head and declaring out-loud to the empty room "Oh, no.  Oh, I do not like that at all."

I mean, that doesn't make the feeling go away.  I just have to tell the invisible audience that follows me around how I'm taking it.

...

I realize I just told you all about the invisible audience, and I'm rethinking whether that was a good idea.  On the one hand, it's kinda weird.  On the other hand, if you're not convinced I'm crazy by now, I doubt telling you that I have an invisible audience made up of the imaginary versions of people I know will have much affect on what you think.

 I mean, you all knew I was weird already, right?

...

Anyway, the point is that I'm trying to get used to my emotions again.  They're strong little buggers, and they keep ambushing me when I'm not paying attention.  It's like I'm playing a complex internal game of Assassin, and I never know when an emotion-tipped Nerf dart is gonna hit the pit of my stomach.

A friend asked me how I was doing this morning, though, and I didn't really have to contemplate my response.

"Really good, actually."

I've missed my emotions, and I'm super pleased to have them back.  Even the ones I don't like so much.  It's like getting back to the technicolor of Oz after you've been stuck in the black and white of Kansas.  Sure, you might get attacked by flying monkeys, but it's a small price to pay for the wonder all around you.

Day 85: Playing Pretend

Okay, clearly, I need to explain the soul crushing...

At some point along the way in life, I came to realize that my trick with fear worked for other emotions, as well.  Most of them, really.  You can pretend not to feel almost anything, if you set your mind to it hard enough.  Now, those who knew me as a child and young adult can well attest, I almost never chose to do such a thing.  I was always a heart-on-my-sleeve kind of gal, and while it was undoubtedly a little difficult for those closest to me to deal with at times, it was at least an honest and authentic way to live my life.

I don't think I ever actively made the decision to start pretending away my emotions, I think it was more the natural consequence of needing to function during a time of enormous upheaval.  It worked tremendously well for me, too.  People who really should have known better were convinced that I fully had my shit together.  Hell, some days even I was convinced I had my shit together.  I'm not saying it was a horrible thing for me, at the time.  I really needed to be able to take care of my kids, and if I'd been experiencing my emotions to the fullest I probably would have been sitting in a corner doing a jello impersonation for a few years.

The downside is that, once you get into the habit of pretending your emotions away, you start doing it all the time.  And that sort of thing is simply not sustainable.  When I refuse to be scared, there is an immediate and overwhelming reaction that hits me as soon as the danger is passed.  The longer I've had to be calm, the bigger that reaction gets.  There was inevitably going to be a huge reaction when the crisis was over and all the various feelings I'd been smooshing took their revenge.

And here we get to the part where I say "although I've just recently come to realize it, it turns out I've been dealing with depression for a really long time."

This is, perhaps, socially awkward of me to say.  Depression is still slightly culturally shameful, plus lots of you know me and think I'm a pretty happy, upbeat person, and it will feel really odd to you to hear me say I've been depressed.  I have considered both these things carefully, and here is my response to that:

Fuck it.  It is what it is.

For those who will inevitably ask... yes.  I'm doing better.

Kind of.  

It's a process.

More on that tomorrow.