i’m excited this morning. i had a long guitar session in which i sort of took stock of my skills and stuff i’ve been recently working on. it’s gratifying; i’ve definitely improved loads since this time last year. for a long long time, i was stuck basically having no skills beyond chords, and some very very simple fingerpicking from ani songs. and even with chords, i was having trouble singing to any rhythm other than the basic syncopated-approximation i developed without conscious thought years and years ago.
Archive for March, 2008
our days are strange, cool, airy. our room stays remarkably clean, and we have time to do and to not do. it’s not as though we will have time to get used to this arrangement, though. when school starts, the centerpiece and thus focus of everything will shift. we are looking forward, though not in the way of being happy and excited about the future. we’re just oriented towards it. everything is real now; we’re enrolled, we have textbooks. it is going to be hard. we are going to have to be more on top of things.
today was the second day in a row that i’ve woken up early. (at the computer around seven, into the shower by seven thirty.) it is luxurious to sleep in, but i honestly think it is much better for my mental health to wake up earlier. hopefully i will start with school, since i have a 10:30 class (of course, it is only two days a week, but i might as well not have to feel i’m getting up extra early for class, right?) it is nice not having to tiptoe around aeron when i wake up; but it is nice to get the first shower and not worry about hot water. i never seem to use it up for him, but he always uses it up too much for me to have a shower after him.
my blog is not even remotely political, and sometimes i wonder why. i read a lot of political blogs. i’m interested in disabled rights and gender issues and mental health rights and human rights issues in general; i’m interested in obama becoming president (i have never felt so hopeful about a presidential candidate in my life before); i believe that the personal is political and everyone is relevant. but i have strange feelings of inadequacy when i think about writing. what can i say or do that would be original or worth reading? this is a scary entry to write; i find myself wanting to lock it, when i don’t even lock most posts about scary memories or anything. what makes me feel so lesser in this arena?
i can’t get a handle on the bad things to write about them, although they are there. but there are some good things:
it is a very strange day. and not in a good way. we are dealing with holiday/programming stuff, kids think our therapist no longer respects us, and we are feeling unwelcome again at group. and sore, and tired, and just wanting to be good, but knowing (now more than ever) that there is no such thing. so there is no way to not be a monster. we wish we understood what we did to be a monster. we are afraid we know subconsciously, though, that we are inherently monstrous, that we should have known, that we got away with something bad. we want way too badly to be liked. more than to be liked, to at least never be a villain. what did we do? how could we be better? trying does not matter. nothing matters – somewhere we know what is truly right, and it is a combination of reclusion and selflessness. we know what a crime it is to inflict ourselves upon anyone, anyone at all. but we wish we could hear ourselves that it is ok, that we are ok, that everyone does not hate us and that we will get through this. we can’t, though. everything is dust. we do not deserve to participate in community. nobody wants us and it is best for us to disappear. why can’t we be mature and disappear? why can’t we be even more mature and see that no one wants us to disappear, and that the truly brave thing to do is walk the middle path, and what the hell is that in this case anyhow? why can’t we stop needing, or at least understand what we need and how to do without it? why can’t we even understand what it is that we want to say? we only wish to do the right thing. and we are hurting.
ok, i get bored by people’s dreams, so feel free to skip this. i just wanted to quickly jot down our nightmare last night so i can remember it, because i am both freaked out and amused by it.
tactile, more than anything. proprioception too – oh so taut – quivering with stillness. weak too, liking giving way. wide-eyed and heavy-lidded. nothing comes into focus, but it’s close now, close enough for menace. each bit slips away if we think about it too hard, then slips back moments later. nothing will be still. i am frozen, taut, but it is spinning, around and around and around my head. on their way past, they make lewd gestures or make us feel pain or blanket our head with blackness. my limbs could be tied with cord, with wire. fingers laced up together. it is up to me. nobody will ever rescue me. family may be scattered, but safety is an illusion. they are watching us. christmas on easter, it’s christmas on easter. we are so fake. i fucking hate easter. it would be best to cease to be. nobody will ever save us.
scary to sleep! don’t know why. all triggered today, package from family. maybe not related. or maybe gut is right. maybe stupid! just all creeped out, nothing safe.
it’s not sleeping that’s scary. it’s the time before falling asleep. have no realness. i have no excuses. aeron is a little scary lately; need to work on boundaries with him more. feel so guilty to withdraw, so guilty to say no. worthless! little. first person voice is scary sometimes, like sleep. don’t want anything attached too closely. don’t want anything so close at all. can write with arms held out, palms out. why is distance needed? don’t even know. so tired, but at least wanted to record that DON’T WANT TO SLEEP. sleep is bad because right before, there is nothing between self and brain. too close! nothing to ward off thoughts. just wanted to say.
sometimes there is an itch to write or at least to feel, but all that comes is song lyrics. i am suddenly sleepy, i am directionless. but there is something… i can’t get at it. i want to get clean, i want to start fresh. i realized in therapy that homework, all homework, is hard because of something in our past. the most fascinating subject can become something i avoid with all my strength, if i am taking a class about it. i’d really like to fix that issue. i got a flash of how much more pleasurable school would be if i could stop running from what i want to learn.
