labelleizzy: (Default)
very quick post
as I need to breakfast and then hit the gym
...sigh

it's uncomfortable to admit the difference between what I thought I was doing and what I was actually doing.
what I was trying to do and what my brain basically had me HAVE to do.

I'll be dropping bits here as I continue to read the adhd book from the library. But one thing I learned today is that the kinds of self-talk I've been slowly training myself out of? have NAMES. Like, you can categorize them into disasterizing, binary thinking... I wish I had the book here, I'll have to edit this later.

I'm kind of in the grief stage. Realizing how different things might have been if adhd in girls was something that they knew about when I was still in primary school or high school. But in the 80's, they had only just begun to recognize add/adhd as a thing.

it wasn't. It didn't. They didn't. I didn't.

it's so damn hard to see the back of your own head.

Not like all my work towards self knowledge is wasted, it's the foundation of the work I'm going to continue doing.

AND I think I may have helped my niece, who is my beloved magpie girl. She's showing all the signs and more of my own distraction, difficulty scheduling, keeping on task, good intentions and poor execution. Pile of failing progress report grades on recent reports from school, her parents are going YIKES

so I told my sister I'd been recently diagnosed with adhd and what I remembered from high school sounded like how I've observed my magpie girl when we've gotten to hang out. That her academic results, same=same. I just covered better, I think.

so my sister and my brother in law are looking into testing for my niece.
it's like, I'm over here Feeling All The Things about my own wasted opportunities but maybe? maybe Ainslee can be spared a lot of what I suffered through, all the shitty self-talk and self-blame.

so I'm feeling optimistic, and I have several courses of action laid out for me to follow, and that feels good.
labelleizzy: (Default)
Today is st. Patrick's Day. I came up with the term earlier today that suddenly Define for me what these sort of overly emphasized and made up holidays and American culture really are to me.

Plastic holidays.

My dad used to call Mother's Day, Father's Day, Valentine's Day, and a lot of other such holidays quote Hallmark holidays unquote. Because in his mind they seemed to exist only to sell more greeting cards. So that's where I'm coming from.

But St. Patrick's Day, it's not even a real holiday even in a Catholic calendar, not really a holiday in the same way that Cinco de Mayo isn't really an important historical date in Mexican history. And what I feel has happened is that these relatively innocuous holiday dates have somehow been glomped up on by American pop culture as an excuse to party, overindulge, and get drunk.

In that same vein, then this afternoon I was thinking about the Disney movie The Hunchback of Notre Dame. And remember their holiday of Topsy Turvy day? I read at some point *cough history nerd cough* that holidays like that exist in the same way that Mardi Gras exists; which is they are safety valves for the restlessness of the popular folk or the poor folk or the little guys.

The more authoritarian, the more controlling, the more class segregated, a culture is, or the more judgemental and repressed they are about sex (music, dancing, art), the greater the need for the kind of Festival that allows Dionysus to really come out.

That's how we put it in one of my Faith Traditions. It is the necessary Madness in Greek paganism. We call it the Lesser Madness, and we accept the Lesser Madness in order to prevent the greater Madness from taking over. The big problem right now, as I see it, is that the greater Madness is going to come and take control.

Our culture is fucked up in so many ways: the belief that the richer you are the more deserving/virtuous/admirable you are. The deliberate breaking of the education system so that only so many people really succeed in getting educated or in learning how to think clearly. The pervasive baked in sexism and racism that prevents so many people from achieving their dreams, their goals, or even, LITERALLY, continued existence.

The Lesser Madness is on the verge of no longer being able to function as a safety valve in American society. The Powers That Be are drowning us all, pissing us off to satisfy their endless horrific greed. Their disregard and cruelty towards "lesser mortals" endangers vulnerable lives in every walk of life, in every time of life from infancy through eldering.

Americans are learning to SEE. Americans are learning, again, to defend our rights. And the "safety valve" is going to blow CLEAN OFF. It already is, as those in the government making a power grab fail to understand that they have awoken the sleeping Leviathan with their unsubtle callous jerking back and forth at the reins.

It's probably better for us, actually, that they are so incompetent. And so disregarding of our agency, power, and willingness to Fuck Shit Up.

The steam engine of this experiment in democracy seems about ready to blow up because the conductor keeps shoveling coal in and disregarding the dials because he doesn't want to control himself.

You know *scratching chin* they probably could have kept fleecing us for a hell of a long time if they'd only gone about it in a moderate fashion. But I think between Flint, Michigan, Michael Brown, Tamir Rice, Trayvon Martin, so so many others, so many failures to protect the people, so many failures to look after us, the sheep are going to stampede and trample a bunch of shit, bring confusion to our enemies.

And some of the sheep ain't sheep at all. We're dragons with wings and roars and fire. We're manticores with poison fangs and lion's claws. We're fae, we're tiny enough to get between the gears of the machine and fuck shit up that way, or we're giant amazons, in seven league boots, bearing giant spiked bats made for smashing.

And those that think they control us and can harvest us at their liking will have another think coming.

Smash the Patriarchy.

further reading: Normal is coming unhinged. For the last eight years it has been possible for most people (at least in the relatively privileged classes) to believe that society is sound, that the system, though creaky, basically works, and that the progressive deterioration of everything from ecology to economy is a temporary deviation from the evolutionary imperative of progress...
labelleizzy: (bunny writer)
Oh god, we were SO FUCKING STUPID.
So naive.

those long discussions around the campfire or around the HDTV, cold beers in our hands, hot nachos in the fucking microwave, laughing and joking about the fucking "zombie apocalypse". How we would have this job or that job, how we would hole up in a Costco store, because it would have everything we'd need to survive and even enjoy life after the world ended. The skills we already had or could learn quickly in order to be valuable enough to win our way into someone else's fortified stronghold.

We had NO IDEA. We had NO IDEA what we really needed, what we really knew how to do, how fucking SOFT we were.
How much EVERYTHING would hurt. How much WORK just bloody EVERYTHING would take, how much thinking and planning and acquiring.

How much FEAR. Terror. Absolutely shit-your-pants terror.

We used to say, "I'd get a really good knife, and really good boots, and this kind of backpack and that kind of rifle" without really understanding.
What happens when your knife gets dull? Well, you sharpen it. How do you sharpen it? Do you KNOW how? do you have the right tools? can you recognize something else you could improvise as a blade sharpener, if you run across it? and can you use that blade, even dull, to do what you must to survive another day? It's hard work, gutting a carcass, butchering an animal for meat...

Same goes, obviously, for the REST of all our dumb-shit assumptions about how privileged and lucky and SKILLED we were.

What happens if someone TAKES your tools from you? Those books you treasured, that were the reason why you thought you'd gain admission into someone's guarded bolthole? The boots, the knife, even your CLOTHES. What happens if you're not strong enough to protect them? To hold onto them?

Knowing how to brew beer isn't very valuable when there's not enough fucking FOOD. Nobody really cares about booze when they're starving. Knowing how to bake bread is useless, so are gardening skills, if you can't settle down anywhere longer than a week or two for fear of the scavengers. Wildcrafting is a blessing, and I'm glad every day for what I learned from my beloved Girl Scout Leader, of all things. What she taught me when I was fourteen makes the difference now between hungry and starved to death.

I'm always hungry now, I'm always worried about getting hurt bad enough so I can't run anymore. I haven't had any of my meds in over two years, I've got half a tube of neosporin left and fuck-all chance of scoring any more. I'm getting slower, I hurt more often, I'm lonely as fuck. I'll never stop grieving my husband and my home and the comforts I once took for granted, but I just don't have any fucking TIME to FEEL. Every moment has to be spent in working out how am I going to survive this day, food, water, shelter, taking care of myself, whether I can trust anyone at all. Despair would dog my footsteps if Despair could keep up with me. I move fast for an old broad. Fuck that, I move fast period.

What the fuck am I even doing? Who am I even writing this for? I have no idea who's going to read it, but I'm stuck here anyway till it's dark and I can sneak away through the shadows. Might as well, I guess.
heh.
One thing my shitty childhood was good for. Learning how to hide, to sneak, to find all the places nobody would think to look for me. No, I'm not sharing my secrets. Find your own damn bolthole. Oh. Heh. If you're reading this, I guess you DID find your own bolthole, just that I was here first. Hi.

I'd tell you to keep the faith, but I don't think anyone has faith in anything but themselves anymore. I'd tell you to keep up hope, but I know you know that's a stupid, useless thing to say. I can tell you I'm thinking about you, because it's true. Random Stranger Reading This, I hope you're less hungry and less alone than I am. RSRT, I hope you have someone or something to love and take care of. RSRT, try to be kind. My only happy memories from the last two years are of random kindnesses. Someone scratched directions to a waterhole that hadn't gone dry. Someone left bedding in a bolthole. Someone left the last few pieces of fruit on a tree... that might not have been kindness, that might have been someone who was too big to climb out onto those thin whippy branches at the top of the tree... someone little like me could still get up and out to them.

Once, back in the day, I was fat and prosperous and happy. I thought I was ugly, being fat, I had NO fucking IDEA. I was so lucky then. I was loved, and safe, and pampered and treasured, and I had no idea. Now I'm tiny, wiry, strong, and fast. I have had to be, to survive.

Random Stranger Reading this, despite everything, have hope. Life may be shit right now, but if we all keep going, something has GOT to get better. Maybe I've been off my meds too long, and this is a manic episode, maybe it's just I've exhausted all my fear and I don't fucking have time for anything that doesn't keep me going.

I do have hope. I don't know why, but I do. It's almost dark now, I can barely see to write, so it's time to pack up and head out silently to my next bolthole.
I hope you can pass some hope along to the next person you meet, and I hope they're worthy of you trusting them.

Good luck, and gods' speed to you.

"kilroy"

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