My body hurts so bad today. I don’t know how to explain it. It aches, in places I didn’t know a person could ache.
My new helper couldn’t come today, my other one can’t come today. So I had to stay up late doing a million things. I made a list of all the tasks I was doing with a little bit of a timeline because I myself was curious about what the hell ends up happening. Why I end up going to bed so late.
I can barely keep my eyes open.
I’m horrified by what I’ve been writing in here. Some of it sounds like gibberish. I don’t even know why some of these words come out of me. I don’t understand where they are coming from, or why they end up on the page. What if I’m really having a mental breakdown? What if I lose touch with reality due to everything that’s happened to me? I want to read this guy Donald Hoffman’s book, The Case Against Reality. But it also kind of scares me so I’m not sure.
I need to scrape these posts. What if people really are reading in here? What if I’m saying things that make no sense? What if I’m losing my mind? This haunts me.
When I’ve been sleeping as much as I have - wait, no, it’s not always sleep which is the weird and cool but also super scary part, I’m in more of an altered state, especially when I’ve been having pain - I don’t know what’s going to come through my fingers. Then I read it later and I’m like WHAT THE FUCK IS WRONG WITH ME?
Also, I can’t believe I’ve never tackled my intense anxiety attacks. Why I get so fucking weird when I’ve been confronted by a situation where someone wants to get closer, and I fuck it all up by getting intense and weird and say weird things and blow things out of proportion and suggest odd things and run away and bump someone’s shoulder and basically sabotage the whole thing. Why can’t I just do the playful banter that so many people do, back and forth, I see a tennis game, chill passes. Like when bestie and I used to play. We never played an actual “game.”
Her mom was pretty competitive in tennis which isn’t bestie’s style at all. I taught myself how to play well enough to play with her (full disclosure: my friend emmi fuji hey grrl, spent endless afternoons teaching me to play the summer before 8th or 9th grade, must have been 9th. she was the coolest.). She had a tennis court near her house, so we’d walk over as teenagers and hold entire conversations while we tossed the ball back and forth. If it was out of bounds, we’d still keep hitting it, never caring about any of that. We just enjoyed the back and forth and the conversation.
Instead, I get nuts in all these situations! I take the ball and slam it against the back wall, or run up to the net and spike it down hard, thereby ending the whole playfulness.
Of course. Well I know what I’ll be telling a new therapist I need to work on! Geezus. I feel so bad about that Yuval guy now. I forgot about that until all this comes out of me in here. Mortification.
I guess I’d been conditioned to think that if I met someone and hooked up as much as we did the first night, that the guy would disappear. Plus he didn’t even live in the country at the time! So I guess that would have thrown me off, as would my baby sister going through chemotherapy, as would finding out I probably carried the same gene, as would so many things.
Well at least it’s out in the world, and I’m taking a long, hard look at myself in here. My little therapy page.
I guess I need to go easier on myself. But still. I hate that I’ve done this sort of thing over and over and over again. No wonder I ended up dating people I didn’t have strong feelings for. It was the only time I could feel some modicum of balance. The more intense the feelings, the weirder I’d get. So I must have had SOME for that dude. Add in the alcohol and the circumstances….
I was thinking about how I said I avoided darkness after one of them.
That’s not entirely true.
I was also thinking about how “women like assholes.” And another aspect of that draw came through.
I wanted to get to know my shadow self, I suppose. It was because I WAS surrounded by all these super lovely men growing up, that had me drawn to guys that were totally different. That’s not unusual when we’re young.
But it was more than that. I don’t know what’s going to come out about the darkness so I’m a little nervous to walk down this path in here.
How do I even begin.
I guess I’ve been fascinated with darkness, and curious about my own. We all have shadow selves. I mean, look at the world even now. Who are these people working at ICE that are enforcing these horrific things? Who are the people in DC walking around in these offices going along with these maniacs? Why do so many people conform like sheep? This has always made me incredibly curious.
Hence the studying of the Holocaust AND death as a SMALL CHILD. I mean, I was really, really young when I started exploring these things.
I remember ordering books from Scholastic on anything metaphysical as young as third grade. The Bermuda Triangle was a big thing back then, and that guy who could bend spoons. Any book on that, I’d order - which I’m surprised my parents let me do that, they were big on the library. But books were always important.
I’d check out books on the Holocaust as I’d get older. I read the book by Anne Frank on my own long before I encountered as a school assignment. I’d read books by righteous gentiles, the people who protected the Jews.
What made them different? I always wondered this.
How much generational trauma is playing into the quietness of the Jews now? I wonder this all of the time now. Is it so terrifying to consider that things could get that bad for the immigrants as it was for us? Someone just told me that some were running away from ICE and they started shooting them! This is how the Holocaust began!
Is this urge to be the small percentage of righteous gentiles innate? Is it from how someone is raised? I’m guessing a lot of is innate. That urge I have to run into the mess is so instinctual.
I don’t know if I shared in this particular page how I was in a bombing in Israel in 1997. When it happened, my first instinct was to run away. But that was because I’d recently heard about how they set two bombs near a military post. So when the first one went off, all the soldiers ran into help the others, and the second blast got a bunch of them.
It was an awful time. It’s still an awful time. Humans can be so incredibly awful.
Who were those people that tossed the disabled people out of their wheelchairs during the ACA fight in 2017? Did they go home and feel bad about it? Did they go out for dinner with their families at Applesby that night like it was any other evening? How do they live with this? Could I get one to agree to an interview? I’m so fascinated.
Do they have nightmares now about it? Or do they shove it deep down? How do ANY of these people enacting evil tell themselves they’re “good people” now. So many do.
I’d forgotten the term until it came up with an activist friend on one of my car rides to an appointment.
Dang my body really hurts today. I have a 4pm appointment in an area of the city that’s not easy to get to and I don’t know what to do. It’s a PT appointment - the pelvic floor one. I think I might have to eat the cancellation fee which I’d never normally do - hell I recently just fought a parking ticket even sick. I hate paying that sort of thing.
But I don’t think I have a choice.
Why am I writing so many coo-coo things in here? Why am I not able to read my own notes the next day after scribbling and scribbling until the wee hours of the morning? I had more downloads last night - the branding for work-out videos came through. I thought of how to communicate some other things in an entertaining way. Oh shit, I just remembered something. Wow.
So normally when I imagine things in my head, the images are blurry. For example, if I’m in a meditation class and they say “imagine sitting at the ocean,” - the image I have isn’t super clear. It’s more of the idea of it that I SEE in my head.
Last night, I had super vivid imagery come through (sober!!!!). Images from what looked like an old movie, the details were incredibly clear. There was a woman with a scarf and I could see the details of the scarf so clearly. It was when I was showering late. I stopped shutting my eyes to stop the imagery. I can see why I’ve been so concerned about my mental health and a break in my brain. These things are FLOODING in - not just trickling.
This diet, the pain, the constant dozing, it’s opened something in my brain.
Oh yes, darkness.
So I think I was drawn to “assholes” - although in my defense, they often don’t appear that way at first. I didn’t go for the obvious ones. They’d often mask themselves as super nice guys which was all the more frustrating when I’d discover that they were not, in fact, super nice guys.
Now let me clarify the difference between the shadow self and the straight up jerks.
We all have some shadow part of ourselves. We all have that propensity, some more than others, obviously. There are some truly beautiful souls I’ve encountered that likely don’t have much of that shadow.
But the shadow can be even things like, I don’t know, let’s say avoiding things. Not helping people in need. Or not reading the news because it hurts so much.
Indulging our own pain at the expense of others’ pain is part of the shadow. It can be as vague as that, or allowing things like sexual harassment of a colleague to continue at our job, without saying anything. Silence and doing nothing is all tangled up in the shadow self.
This is why I do what I do, why I holler and speak out. Because the shadows can’t live in the light. It’s physically impossible. The more me and others shine light on a horrible situation, the harder and harder it is for people to allow their own shadow self to continue on, acting as though nothing is wrong.
I once read a book by Scott Peck called People of the Lie. He is the one that wrote the Roadless Traveled - too tired to link - which was a famous self help book back in the day (for any youngsters who may stumble across this page, ha! I have no idea.) I was fascinated with the book.
He talked about how some people that have this perfectly “normal” facade can actually be quite evil. I’ll never forget one story from the book about a boy who was his patient.
He was around 14 or 15 years old and had just lost his older brother to suicide the year before.
His parents were in denial about the whole thing. The kid was incredibly depressed, of course.
As Scott Peck continued to dig, he discovered that the parents had GIVEN THE BOY THE RIFLE THAT THE BROTHER USED TO SHOOT HIMSELF FOR CHRISTMAS.
They got the gun that their other son used to kill himself. Packaged it up with wrapping paper and then handed it off to the kid.
Understandably, a young kid like that interprets this as: you can off yourself too.
Peck was astounded by this, and also fascinated.
These people were church going types. Pillars of the community. Totally appeared “normal” to the outside world.
But he felt what they did was actually evil.
They were essentially telling the second son that he could do the same thing as their other son by giving him that gun AS A GIFT.
I’ll need to find that book and reread that section. Shit, I need to reread the whole thing to make sense of what’s happening in the world.
I know nobody means to upset their kids, but I do wonder how so many people with depressed teenagers now are not getting the connection between the depression and the inaction of so many to help fix the planet, and the world.
Let’s go on another vacation! Spit diesel fuel into the world! Consume a million things in single-used plastic and throw them in the garbage! Water our lawn during the summer! And then wonder: why is my kid freaking out about so many things when their life is so nice?
That’s not evil. That’s just incredibly clueless. Denial is powerful. I’ve seen it over and over again. The power of denial.
That’s why I’m so fascinated with the concept in this book, The Case Against Reality. What are we telling ourselves? Are of these stories I’m telling myself EVEN TRUE? What IS truth? Am I lying to myself about how I handled them? Am I lying to myself about ALL of this? Was I a lot harsher than I recall? Was I a lot more naive than I’ll give myself credit for? Is the world simply a cruel place and I was bumbling around it, unsure how to handle any of it?
Why did someone whisper in my ear that night? There is only one person that could tell me what was said. We are still in touch. Do I dare ask what happened from her end? Do I WANT to know? Was I so mentally off that summer that it would not have taken much for me to react? Why am I SO reactive in a situation like that?
I hate when people try to manipulate me now. I can see it so much more clearly. Recognize what’s happening even though I do often react if they push the right buttons, at the right time. Especially people who I’ve known for most of my life.
The whole fucking country is being manipulated right now. By our phones. By our media. By evil puppeteers, telling them what to think.
This is what worries me a lot about pushing myself out further.
How can I responsibly share messaging? If I share info about this broth diet, can I even control if it becomes a “thing” that is used for weight loss when I’m really intending to suggest it as a way to heal the gut? Does that matter? Once this sort of information is released into the world, is it my responsibility to ensure that it isn’t used by people to hurt their bodies? I wouldn’t be able to do that. That’s what scares me. That’s why I’ve steered clear of anything related to “diet advice” over the years unless it’s general or people ask about it.
I worry that the intermittent fasting is triggering people’s eating disorders, or at the very least. I’m thinking about this because I’m going to talk to those high school kids next week and I know it’s going to come up, because one of the teens already told me about kids who were using some bad dieting advice on the Internet.
I don’t know! I don’t know anything! I’m so embarrassed about what I’ve been writing in here. Sometimes words just fly out of my fingertips like they did my mouth all these years. At least now, I can edit them away. I worry still about the podcast with the women. What if I said something that wasn’t good modeling?
I think that I was attracted to people with some different KINDS of darkness because I wanted to explore my OWN darkness.
We all have some. It’s part of the deal as a human. What makes one person rise up out of their darkness? How do we balance the darkness with the light? I think that’s what I’m thinking about too, when I see the kids, and was shocked to see one be so demanding. Is that darkness? Or something else? What is the difference between the shadow self and the overall darkness - what is that relationship? Why are so many people being drawn to the darkness in these leaders? What is the appeal? What are they GETTING out of it?
Why do some people use religion as a mask for darkness? Why are some people SO drawn to being a really religious person and others have no draw at all? Are some of these people drawn to the mask of the religion because they don’t want to face their shadow self? Their own darkness? Is that why these horrible things happen in religious communities?
This is in large part why I’m ok growing myself. Because then I can say what I want.
But there will be prices to pay, that’s for sure. I don’t know much about any of that. I only know what many others are reading and seeing. I know enough.
I want to give a voice to the voiceless. Which is the one thing I’ve always desperately wanted to be able to do. It’s been my dream since I was a kid. To be the champion for the voiceless. Now there are so many champions, thank goodness, who are braver than me. So many that will take on evil. Who said: I’m NOT going to remain silent. I will speak OUT.
It has to go slow. I can’t get on a podcast and be like: omg ladies, this is how it should be, blah blah blah. It has to be gentle or people can’t * hear * it. I learned this the hard way in the food world.
I remember teaching my very first cooking class. I subbed for a friend. I was very young! Maybe 26 years old and she asked if I could sub for her SIX week hands-on cooking class. It was a continuing education course through one of the community colleges. A fairly big gig for a total rookie.
Kind of like having my first TV gig be on live, national television. Lord. That was intense.
I told her: I can’t do it! What are you talking about? I’m not qualified! I’ve only taken a few cooking classes here at school with her.
She said: I’ve watched you, you’re very comfortable in the kitchen, you can do it. I’ll help you with the curriculum, I’ve already written most of it.
She was a bit older and I looked up to her. She could have asked anyone else in the program.
She asked me.
I relented and said yes.
And my career was born.
I FUCKING loved it.
I remember one student telling me - something people had been telling me since college - you’re going to end up on Oprah! There’s just something about you!
Freaked me the fucked out.
I remember when Oprah canceled her show.
I even remember the date.
You know why?
It was my birthday. And it was the year I was recovering from the melanoma.
September 9, 2011. I could google it to confirm it but I’m pretty sure that’s right.
Because I felt like a total failure. I didn’t use my connection to Dr. Oz “right” - thank goodness I didn’t link myself too closely to him NOW, I think but at the time, I felt like I blew it.
Ends up all the people that got on his show?
Came from money. They could afford to hire official publicists. Little ole me? Not so much.
All those women in my field that ended up getting published - they all had contacts, and could afford publicists. It took me awhile to figure it out. I was still naive, even then, more than a decade into my career in New York City. I thought that if I worked really, really hard and had great information, that I would get somewhere.
Also, I just think it wasn’t mean to be. So many twists and turns in life. Who knows how much of them are due to our own decisions, or the whims of someone else with more power, or just fate. Who the fuck knows.
But that very first cooking class was long! It was a 3 hour class for six weeks. I’ll never forget that - I was so scared to teach something like that as such a rookie! Of course, I’d been teaching kids since I was mmmm…probably 8 or 9 years old? I started “school” in my house and made my siblings and little cousins sit there and do homework. I got that purple carbon paper that you could use to make several copies of handouts. I’d sit and make these work sheets for math and spelling.
I’ve been teaching my entire life, I guess.
ANYWAY, the original point of this story was that I taught an hour long nutrition lecture at the beginning of each class and then we did a 2 hour hands on cooking class. I recently found a photo of my students and I was blown away. I think I was probably younger than everyone I was teaching.
So that’s a lot of teaching! A lot of nutrition lecture - six hours total - a lot of culinary instruction. I taught them how to make quinoa, which for, let’s see about 1997? 1998? Wait I said I was in Israel in 1997. Shit, I think Israel was 1996 and Cooking was the next year - quinoa was VERY new back then.
At the end of class - and I’m finally getting to the punchline, I need to walk, I’m editing this late while there’s an east coast thunderstorm happening - I said: what was the most useful information you learned in class?
Thinking they’d be wowed by my overview of macronutrients, or really felt like they understood the important of eating plant foods.
And the answers were:
Eating breakfast is important.
Eat whole grain bread instead of white.
Cooking doesn’t have to be complicated.
Those were actual answers that my beautiful young brain was able to retain in some very safe neurons.
The breakfast one hit me. She said she was getting less headaches, that she felt way more productive throughout her day, and was feeling more energy after work too. She was super happy with making that change in her life.
That was it. I was in love. I knew what I wanted to do for a living.
Teach cooking, because it was the best way to teach people how to eat healthy without preaching.
So that’s why I’m trying to figure out how I want to message things now.
People like simple messages - it’s all they can take in - me included. It’s how our brains are wired.
This article confirmed what I’ve suspected for a long time - and I’ve never studied quantum physics though I did attempt to read a few books on it back in the 1990s when I could actual manage that sort of content.
Our brains can handle only so much information. What I’m forcing mine to do these days, well I’m shocked I haven’t had a psychic break. You can see, though, how close to the end I can get. That’s why I share and I reach out to people. So they can yank me back in if I get too close to the edge.
Well this is an interesting post today. I never know.
Oh I also wrote on my list of things to discuss - the connection between this spiritual side of me and the drinking.
That doesn’t want to come out and play today. But it will.
I thought about how I wrote about my idea of therapy for people. I hate to use that word because it’s so loaded. And words can make all the difference, as I know too well.
I mean, think of the word DUNGEON. Eeks! What a word to refer to something that could be really healthy for someone!
I was thinking about how I’ve had these guys pick fights with me over the years. So many.
It took me a long time to recognize that it was the reaction they were looking for. That they wanted - no needed - a certain reaction.
Then I was thinking about it last night. How someone that goes to a club for BDSM is considered weird or perverted or whatever. But let’s say that guy likes to humiliate people. It’s not my jam - either direction - but I respect that everyone does have different kinks. Compared to what I’m reading on the Internet, I’ve found most of mine would probably fall on the spectrum as fairly tame. Maybe there’s more to me than I’ve even explored. THIS is what I’ve always been so curious about. It’s not darkness per say. It’s that I can’t help but keep walking down different paths in my mind, and the world, to see: do I like this? What about this? This freaks me out - like jumping out of a plane - but I want to SEE how it feels. Why do so many people like it? What’s the draw?
I’m just so damn curious. And we all know what happens to curious cats!
Here I am a very sick lady.
That’s for another day. I’m not blaming myself. I just try to figure myself OUT. That’s always been the draw to the darkness or the guys with a lot to them - good or bad - what’s that about? I can’t help but wonder. Drawn to the wounded birds. Not unusual for someone in the healing profession, of course.
I guess there are some types of darkness or shadows, though, that I tried to AVOID after that one that masked his cruelty so well. It taught me a lot, that relationship. It wasn’t fun to go through! That’s for sure. But that one taught me A LOT. His shadows brought out my shadows.
And I think that enabled me to help heal in some ways. So I guess that makes sense. If we are attracted to others via wounds - a common theme in many self-help books - then we’ll make each other worse.
Or, if we actively use the opportunity to help us HEAL, then we can look back on that relationship as a lesson and a gift.
Not easy to do! That one was a tough one. He was a very, very sad person, with a lot of pain. He didn’t want to heal. So I let it go and focused on myself. Which is all we can ever do. Focus on healing ourselves. It is only through our own healing that the healing can magically jump to someone else. This is the type of shit that I’m fascinated by when I’m typing - no idea that was going to come out. No idea why I say some of the things I’m saying in here. Will I ever have the bandwidth to go through and pull these nuggets out? Or will they live forever buried inside my ramblings?
Oh yes, my reason behind wanting to explore therapy or healing sessions for people who want to explore their shadow selves, or the kinks that live at the edges of their mind, but are too nervous to try, or don’t know where to find the information.
Like before the Internet. Damn it’s brought out the worst in humanity.
I can’t help but wonder: can we also then switch it around and use it to heal?
So let’s say a guy is a manager in an office and he doesn’t know he has a kink that involves humiliation - no idea why this example came to me but I guess I’m also fascinated by it because it’s something I would not want at ALL, this is when I know that Domme work may not be for me, I don’t know if I could hurt someone or humiliate them even if they want it, who knows, I like to explore these things in my mind, I like to walk all the way down that track in my head and wonder about it, and then wander back - so he ends up humiliating his employees all day long. He doesn’t even know why he does it himself. He just does it.
Let’s say he discovers a place where he can go do that with people who DO consent to it. They love it! It’s totally their jam. He goes a couple times a week, gets it out of his system, and he feels healthy and peaceful the rest of the week. He doesn’t humiliate his kids or his spouse or his employees anymore because he’s getting that itch scratched in a safe environment where there’s structure and rules and tons of conversation around consent.
THAT is why I do what I do, I realized when this example popped in my head last night. Because until we walk head-on into our own dark places, they come out a bit warped and I’ll end up getting rude texts because some people get off on being yelled at.
Taken me a long time to figure this out. Healing can come in so many forms, I’ve found. It’s not necessarily in a talk therapy or holding hands in a meditation circle.
Sometimes we need to really explore the darkness we feel, or the shadow self, in order to heal those parts of ourself and find ways to integrate them into our everyday lives. It’s still a new and working theory. I only came up with the idea in the last couple of years - which I guess could sound like a long time, but for me, that’s not that long. Many of the things I’m sharing on my podcast and elsewhere are things I’ve thought about researched for many, many years.
Kink and all that is relatively new. I’ve read about poly for years - I’ve been fascinated by it and the transparency is a huge draw. I also realized: no wonder I feel like I may need more than one person. Look at my MIND man! LOOK AT MY MIND! It’s intense!!
Sometimes I’m rambling to my mom - who is incredibly smart and also likes psycology like me - why the fuck can’t I spell that word I know it too, I’m leaving it - I have a phone meeting in 8 minutes. So she can handle a lot of the paths my mind can wander down.
She’s like: you must be exhausted by your brain.
Me: YUP. It’s a fucking nightmare at times. Especially the last few years when SO much information is coming through. Add in reading these new books - I’m still reading my Yuval book. (Do i need to apologize to him? I need to learn more about the 9th step in the 12 step program or at least head back to those meetings. Do I go to an AA meeting? Even though I’ve been on the wagon for years? Would it be helpful? I’m game to try. I’m game to try most anything - the thing that’s great and hard about my life is my damn curiosity.
THIS BRAIN OF MINE. OMG.
I’m going to scrape yesterday’s post after my call. I’ve got to find my charger. Computer is dying. My brain is off the HOOK these days. So much sleeping and little food will do that.
I’ve thought about recommending certain types of foods/eating for spiritual development for YEARS. I suppose this would be the time. People are craving meaning. It was bound to happen after such an indulgent era. So much uptightness. People don’t think we live in an uptight world. But we do!
I can’t believe I revealed that spiritual stuff yesterday. I was so busy I didn’t have time to edit anything. Slept hard at least. I’m trying to take less herbal concoctions. When my dad got sick, I kept upping things - all benign but still. I don’t like that I need like four different herbal combinations to sleep, plus benadryl which isn’t great for the liver, plus CBD plus plus plus. I stopped the CBD first. That’s partly why I’m not sleeping as well. I sleep better when the weather is cooler so that’s why I can attempt this now. I had to get through watching my dad die and then actually die.
I miss him so much. We weren’t super close, but I guess we were in ways that didn’t involve talking. And we were definitely closer than a lot of people are with their fathers, just due to the fact that we have this shared gene experience and living together and sports and so many things. That alignment was there even if we didn’t chat much.
I just liked having him in the world, even if we weren’t chatting all of the time. I liked knowing he was upstairs if I needed him. That I could call out and he’d always be there. It sucks to lose that. My rock. The person I could always count on. He’d do a million little cool things to make life easier - which I appreciated only after moving back in here in 2016, when I was so sick. I had to do so much after that guy I was with moved out - I guess he doesn’t even get the “ex” title according to these fingertips. I’m sure he’s following. Nervous. He’s a nervous guy. Also a reader. Excellent writer.
If you’re reading here: I’m not going to share ok? Just relax. You may need to come through one day, because you have an important skill, but for now, stop worrying.
I didn’t even think about any of that until I was writing about that Texas guy. How I have all this information. It never occurred to me to out the guy that nearly raped me. So when I say: nothing bad ever happened in that area, it’s not entirely true. It’s just such a common thing, isn’t it? To downplay a trauma. Makes it feel easier. More on that later.
No time now. Phone appointment just ended and was phenomenal. Just what I needed. How is it that when we really start to work on ourselves and heal things that the right people come through? More on that later. Though I do have feelings of wanting to shut this all down again. I doubt I will because now the habit of writing in here is more set. But I think it won’t be so focused on the past, and instead working on “integrating” all these different things I’ve learned about myself and discovered inside of me, and moving forward, and rewriting the script of myself, I need it so badly. To focus on the healing now that I’ve dug up so much old stuff, and gone through so much with my health and my dad. The healing has got to be the focus.
I love humans. I really do.
Oh, I took down my post yesterday - too much, even for me. I don’t know why I say the things that I do sometimes. Those damn words want out. The trick here will be to make sure I don’t share anything that compromises my own mental health or my relationships or my situation. I guess I needed to say a lot of things, and learn about myself this way. I’m not going to beat myself up for it.
My mind feels more quiet. It’s always so busy. Finally. I really do need to do more of a meditation practice.
Lastly, on my walk the other night, I saw a very small girl in one of those electric kids cars. And I saw it.
These kids are going to wonder what the heck their parents were thinking with all the indulgence over these past years, and the continuation while the planet is so clearly hurting. They are definitely not going to be pro-bourgeoisie, that’s for sure. My hope is that they have the resources and tools to navigate it without going to full-on anger.
Like I’ve said, I’m no good to them, or the Movement, if I’m a mess. First, I have to heal. I’ve been sharing my pain all this time. I guess now it’s time to share the healing. Feels weird to consider coming out of the spiritual closet. But I can feel the zeitgeist is finally ready for it. Dang. That was a long I don’t even know. I guess most of my adult life, a long time of holding it in so much.
Sharing the healing. The journey, the tools, the process. The thrashing about has been so incredibly painful, but as I’ve said, the only way out is through. I knew that I could not get to the healing part without walking into the fire of the pain first. Sucks, but it’s the way it is. That’s why I’m so passionate about sharing info about feeling suicidal.
It’s at the worst, the most painful that we have to understand that we’re in the crucible at that point, at the center of the storm. And it can feel unbearable - I know this well now, I’ve known all along, it’s the only way I could get through it, was telling myself:
No one is going to want to listen to someone about this sort of stuff unless they really, truly understand the pain themselves.
That’s how I got through it. Getting through it? I don’t know. Time for me to let go of the past. I’ve been so worried all this time about who is going to walk away, it was only on my trip that I realized: I get to decide too. Who stays, what stays, which narratives to keep, which people to keep close, which ones to put in the secondary, tertiary circle around me. I learned that from an old therapist. We don’t have to have everyone super close or gone forever - I’m always so extreme. It’s staying in the middle that’s the challenge for me, always.
I have to develop my set of boundaries and what I need, and what’s allowed, and what’s not allowed. I think I may need to find a new person to fill the role of personal assistant. I love this kid, but she’s a kid. I definitely need her for some stuff, but I think I need someone more experienced. I have to be able to count on people. Know they’ll show up and do what needs to be done. TRULY take care of me, instead of me having to direct them. I know she’d never read this so it’s safe. And I want to share. I’m bummed to start the hunt again, but I think now that I’m clearer, it will arrive. I want to work with this girl on some other stuff, she’s amazing in a lot of ways.
I just need nurturing now. I need people who just know how to take care of me, without me having to instruct or automatically deferring to being the caretaker of THEM. I’ve done that for too many years now. I think I’ll put myself on a dating site soon and date women. It’s time. I’ve been exploring it for nearly a decade which is astounding to me, talking with queer friends, all of that. It’s been such a long journey here. So so painful.
So much pain.
That trip was so good for me. So so good for me. Hard on the body, but ultimately good in the sense that I’ll be able to take care of myself better since my head is clearer. That’s the thing I’ve discovered. If our mental health is off, then everything hurts. If my physical body is off, I can do a lot of things to address it. But if my mind is a mess? Everything goes haywire.
The morphing at lightening speed has been fucking hard as fuck.
The appointment I just had, she said: you need to slow your roll. So that’s my new mantra. Slow my roll. Focusing on healing. Make sure I’m surrounded by people who can and will take care of me. Be patient with the rest. As patient as I can. Give only to those who can give back. Accept that I’m not always going to be able to do everything I want to do in the time I want to. I just have so much I want to do! Create! Projects!
Connection is a big theme these days. I’m going to have a podcast soon called Crisis of Connection - and talk about how we’re all so “involved” with our phones - I’ve had married friends say they often find themselves on their phone more than they are engaged with their partner! And the kids….
Staying off my phone a lot these past few months has been crucial while in the crucible. I don’t think I could have taken in the information, even I was in it. I still read the news. I won’t look away. But I’ve got to keep reading paper things now. My eyeballs prefer it anyway, even though they are struggling so much with actually SEEING. I’ve got to get to Portland, I have several reasons to get down there now. A very cool reason popped up today, a very cool collaboration.
More to come…
Your slow the roll friend,