Before I post this, you should know that I’m not angry. I’m not angry, but I’m tired. I’m tired of people with anxiety dealing with the insensitivity, the condescension, the misunderstanding. I’m so tired. Mental health is so misunderstood in so many ways in our country.
It started as a child (This was before my Mom got it. She gets it now), I would tell my Mom I was nervous and worried all the time, or I would be hiding the bathroom before school, and I would get the, “You can do this! Just don’t think about what other people are thinking about you! They don’t matter.” Oh, Mom. If only it were that easy. She realized this as it continued to work on me as a teen. Before a date one time, I was hysterical in the bathroom sobbing. I went to the front door and said to my date, “I can’t do this.” Then, I shut the door in his face and resumed crying in my room and hating myself the rest of the day.
As an adult it still manifests in many ways in my life. It frustrates me when I mention the lifelong struggle, and seemingly well-meaning people who do not truly understand anxiety disorder come out the woodwork with their “advice”. They mention they’ve experienced anxiety, too, but they’ve overcome it, or they just “fake it ‘til they make it.” That is called having a hard week, or I’ll be generous and say maybe even a period of anxiety. It is nothing like generalized anxiety disorder. It is hard to hear and unhelpful when you tell someone who truly struggles with anxiety disorder. While I still love you, if you say this to me, I am mentally, or depending on the day I’ve had, maybe even physically rolling my eyes at you. It is nothing like having normalcy stolen every day from what feels like a cancer of the mind. Continue reading Anxiety Disorder, Take 450293040328
“Or perhaps that’s it: they don’t explain and we are not supposed to know. We have a few old mouth-to-mouth tales, we exhume from old trunks and boxes and drawers letters without salutation or signature, in which men and women who once lived and breathed are now merely initials or nicknames out of some now incomprehensible affection which sound to us like Sanskrit or Chocktaw; we see dimly people, the people in whose living blood and seed we ourselves lay dormant and waiting, in this shadowy attenuation of time possessing now heroic proportions, performing their acts of simple passion and simple violence, impervious to time and inexplicable–Yes, Judith, Bon, Henry, Sutpen: all of them They are there, yet something is missing, they are like a chemical formula exhumed along with the letters from that forgotten chest, carefully, the paper old and faded and falling to pieces, the writing faded, almost indecipherable, yet meaningful, familiar in shape and sense, the name and presence of volatile and sentient forces; you bring them together in the proportions called for, but nothing happens; you re-read, tedious and intent, poring, making sure that you have forgotten nothing, made no miscalculation; you bring them together again and again nothing happens: just the words, the symbols, the shapes themselves, shadowy and inscrutable and serene, against that turgid background of a horrible and bloody mischancing of human affairs.”
Here’s something. I love good design, but sometimes websites (particularly blogs) with the pristine white design with soft photos wear me out. Everything looks a little too damn perfect, and these blogs make me feel so lacking. In truth, I have spent an embarrassing amount of time reading abandoned blogs from the early 2000s. It’s a little sad when I reach the end of them, and I wonder where the writer is now. I so prefer the fuzzy bits of cellphone photos before they were perfect, the honesty, and the way bloggers seemed so much more real then. Maybe it’s just me, but I really wish all blogs weren’t so uniform now.
I haven’t been updating here as much lately, but I’ve been spending a lot of time reading which I’ve missed. I’ve also spent a lot of time watching Frasier on Netflix so there you go. Those are my two biggest hobbies right now. I spend all day on a computer and the phone at work so the last things I’m sometimes interested in on the weekends is being connected. I do like to spend a lot of time reading, getting groceries, shopping, and napping. Continue reading Library Chic