Sunshine's essay, Exposition, American ghost, Maru et l'amour Remember Sunshine who I have a crush on but nothing ever happened and I was too scared and also conflicted to hang out with her? She has a cat and a boyfriend now so I feel safe to hang out (Possibly on Sunday, possibly after hurting and liberating my nose) We'll analyze that later Sunshine is also a brilliant scholar She sent me an essay (I would share but it hasn't been published yet) It made me cry and laugh She talked about psychiatry and space and time and capitalism and identity And it was accessible and sincere and so gaaaah Punch in the gut Sometimes I feel like I'm trapped in a collapsed cave And when I read research like this I feel like, there are people digging outside (And I feel guilty about being trapped) She talks about the power of reframing and the power of connection I thought about the different labels I grew up with I was a troublesome child, a sensitive child An agoraphobic teenager, an anxious teenager A bipolar young adult, a suicidal young adult, a borderline personality young adult Oops it's actually CPTSD, misdiagnosed you a few times there. Hm, you're a very traumatized adult and now we're part of the trauma Today I'm autistic, with low support needs so we don't need to talk about it really I feel like they say well done you for hiding It's such bullshit And every time I read the DSM and/or whatever relevant material And the new label sort of makes sense, as much as an astrology profile makes sense I meet cool people But all the outsiders are cool people Then I get recommended someone else who specializes in another form of inadequate care "You're very self aware" Sunshine made a list of things they say that qualify as care. Yoga :) Fucking Yoga. She said-- we don't expect people to love us and care for us So much so that an act of kindness makes us feel sad and guilty But what if normal and expected was to love and be loved Before all the pathologizing? She said it so much better I open mouth sobbed I'm not poetic, I'm not a writer or an academic I'm grateful that I can understand I want to dig too I don't know how I'm scared and sad for very valid fucking reasons And most of the time I'm just trying to figure out how to process those feelings without damaging myself even more If the floodgates open, it's very violent. I get this awful headache and tinnitus ringing in my ears until it's silent. Then everything turns white and I can't see. And I cry until I can't breathe. Then I vomit. Then I feel like human jello and sleep for two days. That was somatic therapy and EMDR. That was the helpful therapy. We focus on one traumatic moment at a time. It takes ages. And I have a long list. I haven't gotten past 9 years old. I can drive again. I can advocate for myself. Tante Z likes me this year :) I like that I have more space But I know I can't heal as long my father's alive and I know I can't kill him So I'm either miserable and fighting him for no reason Or I'm miserable because I'm not fighting him and he's found some way to break me I know it sounds ridiculous to talk about a parent when I'm 37 But legally and financially and emotionally he has that much influence I tried breaking out. I tried living in the city when I was younger, the police tracked me down through my phone and they sent Tante Z to collect me Mama guilt tripped me My friends tried to stop me from going back but I was too scared The second attempt was my own fault. I got engaged to a guy who wanted to be our parents. He asked me to go back for appearance's sake. Mama cried. Baba gave me a car. I was an idiot. The third attempt was after Mama died. But that was a shit show. The college friend/predator in California. No money. I tried though. America has Vogons too. I tried to register myself. My long Arab name on my social security card didn't match my long Arab name on passport. I went to a social security office and then to a courthouse library and then to a lawyer who said I needed my birth certificate (which was in Egypt) to make a case. (this was in between the sex party and native American sweat lodge and homelessness) (socialite/in danger Lala has a lot of energy and adrenaline) So I came back. Baba and Hassan were guilt tripping me. I told myself it was for the paperwork but I knew I was giving up. I found my official Filipino birth certificate. It has a different spelling from my passport AND my social security card. I have an Egyptian version of my birth certificate with my full name in Arabic but I'd have to go to a bunch of different offices here to get it translated to English and have something that matches. I don't even know if it would work It's a mess. So basically I'm an American ghost, I'm technically a derived citizen but I'm not registered anywhere And I somehow have a passport and social security? I've never paid taxes or voted and I'm not quite sure how I exist I think they're confused too I should've married Nady and sorted it all out in Ohio (his family is made up of lawyers and accountants) I could've been a divorced soccer mama! In Ohio! On his brother's podcast... That made me shudder. I pick ghost trying to outlive her Baba, secretly taking investment and real estate notes from bougie Egyptians I have plans. Maru has similar plans. Maru is in love! Please pray/think good thoughts for Maru. He hasn't been in love for a very long time. And Egypt is horrible to gay men. And I want him to be happy. And I don't want to attack his boyfriend if he's an asshole. I did a tiny interrogation. Maru sent me a video of a crazy guard dog and said he loves me but I need to love him less. I agreed to be nice. I had a lot to say today! Maybe it was the coffee? My heart still hurts but I will not learn from this :) |