(Love is—Little Dogs on the Prairie)
I have been listening to this song on repeat for the past like 3 Sundays, and it hasn’t gotten old yet. I feel like every weekend a different part of the song speaks to my heart…and this is what it is at the moment. Love lets others go first and love leaves no one behind. It incorporates a lot of me—I want the best for others and sometimes forget about myself in the process…and also, because I have been marginalized, I am uniquely sensitized to when other people are being marginalized and I want to fix it so that those people aren’t left out. I sometimes am powerless to these ambitions, but even when I can’t change anything, it doesn’t mean it doesn’t tug at my heart. Like an article I skimmed recently stated, I don’t want you to ever understand how I feel. No, that doesn’t mean that I desire isolation, but what it does mean, as this article pointed out, that to truly understand you’d have to experience the pain and trials that I have experienced to at least some extent, and as meaningful and deep the connection may be if there were someone else who had experienced it and with whom I could relate in that way, I would never want anyone to experience anything like that.
Sometimes surrendering looks like cancelling FCA on Wednesday, skipping Cru on Thursday, ordering extra frosting on Friday, and not even bothering to pretend on Saturday that I’m only going to eat one bag of skittles…
A lot of things have been going wrong, most recently the grocery store only having two bags of frozen peas left and not having the kind of apples I wanted and prior to that accidentally driving into the curb at church triggering another OMG I miss my old car episode…but like Kati so eloquently said in her Thursday video this week, I am human, and humans make mistakes.
On the positive side, I haven’t fallen into another OCD episode (yet), but I am just really exhausted…and I don’t mean just because of the time change…I wanna sleep in my bed at home and get up with absolutely no responsibility besides maybe getting ready for work…Although I am tired from the time change too…when I was at home my parents always made me set the clock back the night before so that I’d have to stay up late. Because I hate staying up late, as soon as I was on my own I waited and set the clock back in the morning (’cause I’m a rebel you know the kind that dies in the streets ’cause you refuse to perform won’t eat the king’s meat). And every year I think (and forget by the next year) that it might be better to change it on Saturday and have an extra day to at least sorta get used to it before Monday comes…although that might just mean that I’d be even more tired on Monday…it’s hard to say…but that last hour of fighting to stay awake on Sunday night is hard…lets just say I filled a water bottle with ice-y water and put it in my mouth so if I started to fall asleep and let go of the water bottle it would pour cold water on me…yeah, supposedly I still have 8 hours to sleep, but I don’t make up night sleep in the morning very well, so scooting the clock backwards really just extends torture time which is what I just named the time between wake up and alarm, it’s melodramatic, but that time is quite unfun.
I also read an article recently about how both entitlement and unworthiness steal our joy. It was really interesting. I would have RT”ed it, but that would have required making a second twitter account because it was blocked from being retweeted from my primary account. The example the author used was that a kid on any other day would be thrilled with pretty much any piece of candy, but if you gave a kid just one piece of candy on Halloween that kid would feel slighted. Similarly, if you feel unworthy of an award then when you receive it, it doesn’t make you feel very good because you have already self-determined that you didn’t really win. The author also made the point that at the core, a diva feels both entitled and unworthy which I think makes a LOT of sense.
Writing for me is like breathing…some people hyperventilate when they are excited or nervous or otherwise adrenalized…I write.
(Apparently, adrenalized is a real word…I wrote adrenilated and autocorrect in Microsoft word told me I meant adrenalized)
I used to mostly read psychcentral and (in)courage day in and day out and thought I could never ever give them up. I now almost never read those blogs…it is funny how these things change…now I am reading Scary Mommy and The Mighty. Scary Mommy is okay, but I really love The Mighty. The Mighty is about empowering the disability community, and engaging in empathy, and enabling acceptance. What I like about it is how inclusive it is. Their definition of disability is not narrow, rather it includes everything from having a birthmark that you think is ugly to respiratory disease so severe that you live most of your life in the hospital, and from severe developmental delays to a broken finger. In my opinion, the majority if not all people have something that they feel makes life more challenging for them, and so I love that this community can supportively celebrate these differences and respectfully acknowledge that what feels good and normal to one person may feel offensive and hateful to another. Basically, everyone’s opinion is valid.
Sometimes what needs to go first and not be left behind isn’t a person, but the circumstances. I don’t like anyone else telling me what I am not capable of. If I think I can do it then please let me try and let me have a chance to succeed before you say I can’t because I will fail…I understand sometimes this comes as a form of trying to protect me, but sometimes I need to stretch my wings and find out if I can fly…other times I know it might be coming from avoiding the inconvenience if I try and fail, but either way, I just want the same chance as anyone else to try. I will admit that I wasn’t the best greeter and sign in person ever as a senior in high school, but with just a little extra direction I could do just fine…and if I’d known the purpose of the sign in sheet in advance then I wouldn’t have needed the extra guidance that writing “Sam” for the name wasn’t going to be enough. This having people tell me what I can’t do isn’t a situation I come across very often anymore; it was much more common when it was profoundly obvious even to an outside observer that I was not a confident communicator. A situation more common now is that I hate having to inform myself that I cannot do something. The adventurous and creative side of my brain is quite fun-loving and is going a million miles a minute thinking of ways to insert more joy into my day. That is the half of my brain that doesn’t wanna let me close out of the internet when I found a new awesome D-blog, and the half of my brain that writes letters to people inside my head while it really should be learning the ADR’s of AED’s. The other side of my brain takes on the task of reason. Reasoning with an adventurous fun-lover is hard…but after a look at my grades it was time to have The Talk. Yeah…It is time to stop analyzing who is most likely to be within a reasonable driving distance and have the best child options for me to hang out with for Thanksgiving. As much as I would like to tell myself that I will only stay for an hour and so it will just be a really good break to have some fun and hang out with people*, I know myself a little too well. I know that this extravert** cannot leave in only an hour…too much FOMO (fear of missing out). I am so excited to be surrounded by all these people that I can’t say goodbye. I just want to stay forever…which is how a lunchtime meal somehow ends with me getting home past bedtime and shoving food in my face on the way to bed. Clearly it is not realistic to give up an entire day of studying to celebrate a quasi-holiday. In my opinion it is only a quasi-holiday, because it involves no candy and because I don’t even really understand what we are celebrating.
*I do recognize that most people would include eating a good meal on this list. Combining the fact that I am a polite but picky eater, with the fact that it seems at other people’s houses the food isn’t actually on the table in front of me and I am too distracted with everything going on to actually obtain food, I don’t tend to eat much if at all when having a meal in a new situation. It took me until this summer before I actually ate anything at all at the Night to Unite celebration. The first year I did it, even being told repeatedly to take a break from what I was doing and eat, I didn’t. After that I was less awkward and therefore no one noticed that I wasn’t eating, but at some point this year I was finally comfortable and used to the situation enough that I had no problem getting what I wanted to eat.
**I am and always have been an extravert. It used to be tightly concealed, because no one really understands how a girl who is terrified of being around other people could possibly thrive on connection and crave friend time. It was kind of an oxymoron that being with people required a significant amount of energy and planning and required alone time to recharge, yet I needed to be around people to obtain energy to recharge the alone time. Now I try really hard not to be obnoxious or a time hog, which sometimes comes across as not wanting to be with people, but I still crave being with my people. As long as I still feel a sense of control, I am in my happy sweet spot when surrounded by chaos…not so much when I feel like I am being pushed around but any other time, the right kind of adrenaline makes me feel alive.