It's for You

How far should I bend? That is the question.

I was headed to you-know-where Thursday, and a demonstration was headed in my direction down Mount Pleasant Road. My first reaction was, "Crap, it's a 'pro-immigrant' rally." As I got closer, I could see banners with Planned Parenthood's logo, and pink and white balloons. I finally realized that it was a rally against women's oppression. I strained to read the signs, etc., in the growing dark (a lot of them were in Spanish, which in my case is hopelessly rusty). It dawned on me that this was a rally by and for the Hispanic community to support women. I have never seen such a thing, and certainly had been the last thing I'd expected. It took me a few minutes to absorb the whole idea, and I wanted to get to the meeting, but I finally turned around and headed back toward the parade, trying to see what the banners said. A woman came up to me on the curb and tried to give me a domestic violence pamphlet, but it was one I already had, and I told her so. At first she asked me whether I spoke English. It was so sweet. At the tail end was a group of men, all Hispanic, and I smiled at them (I've been forcing myself to do this to people of Color, but these guys in particular deserved it). One of them said to me, in an accent, "You should join us. It's for you." I felt too awkward, even though I wanted to. It was the best anyone had made me feel all day. Another pin prick in my bitterness wall.

The good thing about being tough is that it has helped me to survive. The bad thing is that it may at times cause me to treat people unfairly. It also keeps me isolated. I am so used to ostracization that I am comfortable with it. I don't question rejection anymore, as I have come to see it as my fate. I don't want to be alone, but I don't welcome the alternative. I'm so sick of other people's rules. I'm sick of phonies. People who leap at the chance to prove their superiority to others.

You know? M doesn't know anything about me. Not a thing. Which is not to say that a lot of her points weren't valid, because they were, and I need to do some re-thinking. The irony is that I feel completely ready to change my views. That's not even the point. The point is that there is a right way to do things, and a wrong way, and for myself, if I keep letting people like M dictate terms to me, I deserve whatever happens to me. I'll be goddamned if I let people like David Bowie and Mos Def lecture to me about how to think. How much money have either of them donated to battered women's shelters? How many times have they spoken out about women's repression? No; because it's always racism that has to take a higher priority than saving women's lives.

I respect Tupac because he had the line in "Keep Ya' Head Up" about supporting a woman's right to choose. I assume that's how he really felt. It would have been nice if he could have kept away from the guns, etc., because he'd be around to spread more of this message. Just like it's not "murdering babies" to have an abortion, and it's not anti-semitic to want to reign in Zionism, it's not racist to hold people accountable for their actions. I appreciate that a double standard is being perceived in Jena, in that Black people felt they'd been treated unfairly over an extended period of time. But sometimes victimization and oppression are all in the mind.

I don't know how much longer I can go on like this.

At some point I have to acknowledge -- and work to meet -- my need for human connection. Sexuality. Belonging. Comradery. Achievement. Positive regard. Fulfillment. I just wish I could fucking figure out how to do that.

Everything is so hard all of the time. They don't call it "struggle" for nothing.

Maybe it's not struggle. Maybe it's baby steps. Like me getting on the phone right now, or getting out a sheet of paper and a stamp and mailing someone who is important to me a letter. "How are you? Just wanted to check in. Are you having any problems?" I have to start to do myself some good.

Life is not easy.

http://www.afterthetrauma.org/

Apathy

People are afraid to talk about politics. I guess I'd always known that; you wonder how much worse things have to get before they start to think that it directly affects them. Everybody has to get home and do something. Big hurry. Can't stop and discuss politics. Have they never read Plato?

Anyway, I'm excited that my cousin is interested in socialism. I sent him Socialist Worker. It would be so awesome if he were actually to come to the conference. But my family (except for Tommy, who's dead) has a phobia about coming into the city. Still, I have to start to think more positively.

I guess I'm going to kick back and dig some Clint Eastwood. Maybe there really are heroes. Giddayup.

Continued Indecision

You guessed it, dear anonymous (and mythical) blog audience. I have insomnia again. I started on my Final Project, but my back hurt too much and I felt too tired and frustrated to finish. I still feel good about the class -- I'm getting a lot of articles on my topic, which makes me feel validated. Plus, the first article that I came up with and annotated validated my beliefs at work about the proper role of QA.

Still, I wanted to go out and get some chips (ended up buying a pizza, instead), and I am increasingly worried about when I get things seriously underway, when I will have to devote three hours every single day to classes. I don't know. I try to stay positive about it. But I still say that we go through so much crap with so little substantive reward.

So, I have the bottle placed on my dresser. I was about to take a dose the other day, but I worried about the potential drowsiness, since I was on a two-day insomnia jag. So I decided to postpone until tonight. Then I was feeling so positive after the paper sale that I remembered that there is only one real way to deal with feeling depressed. Now I'm not so sure.

I still want the same thing; you know? As ashamed as I feel for wanting it.

Okay, now I want to start the meds. My instinct to start at night (although I slept well last night) was probably sound. But I'll get cold feet again by tonight.

At least try it, and see what happens.

What if I'm not supposed to be here? What if I was a colossal mistake? How would I know? What's the check?

Well...I was a mistake. My mother has essentially allowed as much to me (supposedly they were using a condom when I was conceived -- she told me this when I was in eight grade, discussing my sex education class with her. People who have children, but don't know how to parent. Don't get me started).

Maybe I just need more courage than I have. Maybe things are getting better, and I don't even realize it.

But you know what -- things aren't better. They have never gotten better. They have only got worse. It's not that I'm not trying, because I am trying.

Maybe I'll just take these pills and see what happens. At least I'll have the victory of saying, "See, I told you so." That would be cool.

To Lamictal, or not?

I have this vial of pills sitting in my kitchen, waiting for me to start them. And I just can't do it. My reasons for not taking them previously were different than they are now, but no less paralyzing. I think I just want someone to prove to me that I'm mentally ill, so that I can face all of the consequences which accrue from that. I feel as though society wants to have it both ways (and that, of course, is not fair).

Dorothy freaking Hamill is the latest depression confession (would you believe that I just thought of that? That is so freaking brilliant). She was on Larry King. I guess I want someone with mental illness that I can look up to (she's not quite it).

On another level, it would be so worth it. Still, I am so afraid. Of course, I had to go look up the profile. Headache, dizziness and insomnia are the side effects, with women more likely to get them. I already have all three of those.

All medication has ever done in the past is to make things more complicated. Nothing really ever changes for me. The very things you need just to keep up the treatment fall further from your grasp once you commit to it (oh, the irony).

My God, just take me out of this, already. Another irony; if I did start to develop the one fatal side effect, I don't think I'd ever report it. If I start on this s---, I'm going to start looking for the rash, and be pissed off if I don't get it. Watch it not take away my suicidal thoughts. That's typical. Not that I really want them taken away anyway. What else do I have? They are my only solace.

What would it be like for things not to get any better, and I start to feel better anyway? That's the essence of mood change. Nothing appreciably changes, but you stop caring. On the one hand, that's great. And in the short term, of course I'd take it. But there is nothing short term about medication.
I can't finish my thoughts now, because the insomnia has worn off. See how frustrating life is? Will I be less frustrated if I go on meds? Will I stop feeling so ashamed? You notice how no one actually promises these things.

Am I going to get in trouble if I link to Derrick Humphrey (Final Exit)'s site? See -- why do I always worry about that? What difference does it make? I pass people every day who live on the sidewalk. Like I'm too good to live like that. Maybe they'd rendition me to Albania, or wherever they're taking people. The point in life is to do the right thing, not to try to avoid the consequences. www.finalexitnetwork.org/  You can't confuse one with the other.

God -- the reason I can't sleep is that I'm thinking about all of the conflicts I'm going to have with folks today. Can't it be avoided? Why always the fights and arguments I always have with everyone? Isn't there something else? That's why I try to keep my mouth shut, except sometimes I can't help it. I have rights, too. That's what my mom says. I love her when she says that, except she doesn't say it enough.

Okay -- do you want some parent memories? I'm really not in the mood...Ken Burns' program brought enough of that back. I guess it can't be avoided (to answer my earlier question).

What am I going to do about school? Do I really want to spend three hours a day on it? It will be a bust, like last time. Assuming I get the approval for tuition reimbursement. Assuming. Life has taught me not to get my hopes up. Hope for the best, but expect the worst. There's a recommendation for continued existence. Barry had a well-meaning counselor who would actually say that to people in the courtroom as they awaited their sentencing hearings. Why not expect the best? That would empower prison inmates to better their lives. Do they want them not to get emotional in the courtroom?

I was going to delve into childhood. I don't think I'm in the mood. Some of the middle class memories aren't so bad. I don't know what poor people do. I really don't.

I do feel a little better. It's risky to feel better. You're never really safe. I'd settle for safety. Okay -- it's time to take a risk. Which one am I going to take today? Crap -- there are too many. Too many decisions to make. Now I'm overwhelmed again. I want to feel good about myself. That's what I want. That's my goal. Great. Now, how best to get it? I still don't know. I'm back where I started.

Time to go to bed, or go to work, or some danged thing. See you :)

Take it easy, but take it.