Day 13: Movie...

Here's the full prompt:  What well-known person (actress, politician, comedian, talk-show hostess, what-have-you) would play you in a movie of your life in 2012?  Why this person?  And what would be the movie's title?

I'm skipping this one.  Sorry guys.  But there's no one I can think of who would play me in a movie.  I can't even fathom a movie about my life.  At all.

Day 12: When did you feel power within your pain this year? Describe the moment and all it's sensations and emotions.

I've been struggling with this prompt.  You see, pain and I have had a very long and complicated relationship over the years.  Pain has been a lover -- pleasurable and sensual.  Pain has been an enemy -- fierce and fearsome.  I have both embraced it, and fought against it, with my whole self.  But... I don't know that I've ever felt power within those dynamics.  In fact, I'm quite certain I haven't, despite knowing that I'm actually quite powerful over them.

The Saturday after Thanksgiving, I spent the day with OBF helping a friend of his with a film shoot for a school project (film school).  That day started at 4:30am, for me.  I normally go to bed at 4am, so having to get up then, was hard enough in and of itself.  But that day was a bad pain day, for my normal chronic pain bullshit, on top of it.  And I mean bad.  Add in time of the month cramping... And I was in agony just sitting still.  But there I was, lugging stuff up and down stairs to get gear to film sets, helping hang lights, playing gofer, helping out in any way I could.

I was eating advil like it was candy.  I was going through cigarettes like they were air.  And the whole time, a battle was raging in my head.  Pain was launching an offensive, trying to get me to submit.  Trying to get me to give up a part of my life, yet again.  And I was arming the ramparts in preparation for the siege.  I would not let it win, I vowed to myself.  I was not going to be weak in front of all these people that I had never met before and didn't know.  I was not going to "rain on the parade" by needing to go home early.  I was not going to be a waste of space by sitting around on my ass doing nothing.  I was going to be productive, and useful, and have fun, even if it meant gritting my teeth so hard I broke them (again).

OBF's attempts to get me to take things easy were spurned.  Especially after I suffered the embarrassment of the security guards for the shoot site asking me if I was okay, after I'd noticeably slowed when climbing the stairs in front of them for the 10th time (20th? I lost count).  Admitting any weakness, admitting any vulnerability, would have shattered the mental front I was putting up in order to maintain functionality.

My body was screaming at me.  It was yelling, and wailing, and working against me with every movement.  It's assault on my resolve was monumental.  Like something out of those Iwo Jima movies that everyone likes to make.  But I held out.  I was, to mix my military event metaphors, Sparta, in the face of the Persians.

The thing that let me hold out was... Well, it was anger.  I took every ounce of anger I had at my life being impacted in such a negative way, every bit of resentment over the embarrassment of not even being able to climb stairs without someone noticing my difficulty, every bit of hate for my body's rebellion, and I held onto it.  I breathed life into it.  I nurtured it.  I let it be my strength.  I took power in anger.  I let it fuel me.  I was smiling, and I was friendly, and jovial, and all the things that you're supposed to be in social situations, but underneath... Underneath I was a seething ball of anger.  And anything I could use to add to that anger, I took.

Fueling that anger on my own, however, is work that I'm not used to yet.  I'm not an angry person, generally speaking.  Being angry usually scares me.  So I have a hard time finding ways to keep myself angry.  And when I was struggling to maintain that anger, OBF joked, in a loving and affectionate way, about me being a slowpoke, and I seized on it.  Being made fun of, in a caring manner, for my infirmity was something I'd never experienced before.  But it worked.  It was a bellows on that furnace I was stoking.  And it helped.  The shock of it, and the momentary sparks of rage, gave me the strength to pull myself up again, and re-man those ramparts, and rain vats of boiling oil down on the pain attempting to storm my gates.

I had power over my pain, then, through that anger.  Despite the broken glass feeling in my joints, despite the sharp tearing feelings in my back, and thighs, I had power.  And I was using it.  I was using it to hold off that horde until I was somewhere it was safe to lose the battle.  And I did.  Barely.  I couldn't help with putting all the gear back in the truck at the end of the night, simply because I didn't trust myself on the stairs any longer, but I was still useful, and I was still functional, even if I had to fight back the urge to cry as I leaned against OBF's chest and admitted that I just couldn't carry any more shit.

By the time we were in the truck heading home, almost 18 hours after I'd gotten up in the morning, I was holding myself together with the thinnest of threads of willpower.  I knew I needed to be able to get up the stairs to my apartment when we finally got home.  I knew that if I lost the battle before that point, someone would have to carry me.  And I would not suffer that indignity.  Under no circumstance was anyone going to carry me up my front steps.  I would do it myself, dammit.  Even if it killed me.

And I did.  I may have all but collapsed when I got in the front door.  I may have needed help getting undressed and into a hot bath.  And I may have let out sobbing cries of agony as LIBF helped me out of my shoes and my jeans.  But even after an almost 20 hour day on my feet, lugging and carrying and bending and twisting and reaching and stretching...

No one had to carry me up those stairs. 

Day 11: What was your biggest moment of joy this year?

Spring break, this year, kiddo got sent off to my Mom's, and LIBF and I had some time to ourselves.  We also, coincidentally, had some extra cash for once.  So we decided to take a vacation --not a long vacation, nothing elaborate.  But we decided to, finally, go explore the Olympic Peninsula a bit.

We drove out to Port Angeles in the middle of the week, and snagged a hotel room for 2 nights.  And the next day, we went out to find ourselves a decent hike.  And hike we did.  To the top of Marymere falls, and back, before lunch.  I have pictures galore of that in my G+ account, somewhere.

After the falls, we had a good half day left to burn.  So we decided to just drive along the coast, see what there was to see.  We were tourists, after all.  What else was there to do other than sight see?  So we drove out to the tip of the peninsula -- got ourselves a little lost in an Indian reservation, because there is no cell service out there at all, and our phones' maps weren't working properly because of it.  And on the way back, we decided to stop at one of the little beaches that we'd seen along the way.

It was low tide when we finally found a good spot to pull off.  We were the only people on the rocks.  And there were tidepools.  Tidepools with starfish, and hermit crabs, and limpets, and anemones, and even some with little fish swimming around in them.

I was a little kid again.  I was dragging LIBF from tidepool to tidepool by his sleeve, voice high and girly calling out "Ooh!  Lookit this!" when I'd see another little bitty living thing moving around.  I was giggling over slipping on the rocks a little, and giggling over all the bitty sea creatures, and giggling at the sand and salt stinging my face in the cold wind.  When I picked up a hermit crab and let it crawl around in the palm of my hand, I squealed as it pinched me.  I was happy.  I was so happy, I was proclaiming how happy I was.  And LIBF was happy to see me happy, and he laughed at my childlike exuberance.

I didn't mind that I was getting my shoes wet, or that the cuffs of my jeans were sand encrusted.  Actually, the opposite.  I loved it.  My hands were freezing cold from the ocean water, but I kept bending down and scooping things up anyway, finding perfect limpet shells in the sand to sneak into a pocket to take home.  Those shells are on my desk right now, actually, reminding me about that day.

When we were finally too cold to stay out on the beach anymore, and the sun was starting to sink a bit, we got back into the car and headed in the general direction of the hotel.  And on that drive back... Driving from bright sunny, windblown shores, edging along the winding road edged with craggy beaches into storm clouds over the mountains... We rounded a corner and there was a rainbow so strong, so bright, that it looked as if someone had drawn it across the sky in neon lights.  It took my breath away, it was so beautiful.  And in that moment... I was joyful.  I was joyful to the point of tears.

The whole day had been wonderful, beautiful, and filled with awe and amazement.  And that rainbow was the thing that pushed me over the point of "happy," and into "overwhelmed with joy".

Day 10: Create an imaginary character you could have used in your life this year. Tell us about this being.

Oh gosh.  I could go so many different ways with this.  But...

In my imaginary ideal world, there is a being that I would probably title a "fixer".  Not a fixer in the mafia sense, necessarily, but someone who I can go to and tell them everything that's bothering me, everything that's frustrating, everything that hurts, and their job is to fix it for me.  Kind of like a bodyguard for drama.

My fixer would be a big, burly, stoic looking guy.  He'd dress all in black, and wear sunglasses 24/7, and have a short-ish ponytail, hair pulled back slick against his scalp.  Clean shaven to show off the strength of his jaw, for intimidation purposes.  He wouldn't be pretty, either.  And he'd follow me around, just sort of lurking in the shadows, far enough away as to not be a nuisance, but close enough that I could summon him with a snap of my fingers to deal with anyone, or anything, that was giving me grief.

When my ex husband started pulling drama this year, my fixer would have intimidated the crap out of him for me, so I didn't have to deal with all the legalese and freak-outed-ness.  When OBF's wife started pulling drama, my fixer would have set her straight, and saved me (and OBF, and LIBF) a shit ton of pain and suffering.  My fixer would have dealt with my mother, and kept her from being a condescending, rude, bitch at my sister's wedding.  He'd have gotten LIBF's grandmother to get herself a damned financial planner instead of making the messes she's made that we had to clean up.  He'd have dealt with LIBF's mother's shit too, because that ended up in my lap as well.  He'd intimidate my kid into doing his homework on time and without temper tantrums.

My fixer... Would be my brick wall against the rest of the outside world.  So that I could focus on the things that I wanted to focus on, instead of the things I ended up having to focus on.  A protector, standing over me, with a constant and persistent "don't fuck with tess" written all over his face.  And his biceps.

Day 9: What made 2012 particularly different from other years of your life?

Now that's a good question.  In some ways, it feels like this year has been exactly the same as the rest.  All the struggles are, at their core, essentially the same.  All the triumphs are also, at their core, essentially the same.  But there's got to be something that sets this year apart, somehow.

This year... This year was the first time that LIBF finally decided to explore other relationships outside our own.  He's always had the option, but he's never really had the interest before.  And, honestly, while I'm content for everyone to do whatever makes them happy, I'd held a bit of guilt over the idea that I was "having all the fun" while he was being the dutiful boyfriend and staying monogamous.

Some of that guilt comes from the mono-centric society that we live in.  Judgement that non-monogamy is "bad", that it's "cheating", etc..  Some of it came from the idea that the drama that I always seem to find myself embroiled in (despite hating said drama) was an unfair strain on him.  Some of it was totally irrational bullshit about "inflicting" my relationship orientation on him, despite the fact that he's been entirely supportive and even encouraging of it in me.

But I got to return the favor, finally.  I got to be all happy and giddy over seeing him with someone else.  I got to be the same sort of confidant that he's been to me about relationship stuff with another person.  And it added to what we'd already had in such a way that, even though his foray didn't work out well, I think we're both still really happy he did it.

You know, I wrote about this elsewhere, in an entirely different context.  And the thing I wrote there, that I really feel needs to be repeating, is that... LIBF's testing the water on not being monogamous reinforced the idea that not only are he and I building a life, and a business together, but we're friends too.  That "being friends" with a partner can sometimes get forgotten about, with all the day to day junk and the stress over finances and family.  It can fall through the cracks a little, especially when you quite literally spend 24 hours a day, 7 days a week, sharing space with that person.  It's easy to take someone for granted when they're never more than 2 rooms away from you.  And so these little reminders that, above all else, even above being romantically involved, LIBF and I are friends too... Mean a lot.  And I got that this year.  And that's different.

Day 8: If you could take back anything you did in 2012, larger or small, what would it be? Why?

While I can always look back and see something I could have done better, or something that might have been a mistake, wanting to "take back" things isn't really my style.  See, I'm a firm believer in the idea that "who we are" is made up of all the experiences we've had, large and small, good and bad, combined.  So if I were to "take back" even one thing, it would change who I am now.  I like who I am, overall.  So I don't want to "take back" anything.  Not even the smallest of mistakes.

I do find myself wishing, sometimes, that I didn't have to make those mistakes in order to be who I am... But that's a totally different topic, and probably a futile line of thinking too.

Day 7: What would you like the focus of 2013 to be, and why?

You know, I'm happy with the "nurturing family" theme that this year had.  I'd really like to continue that one.  I like the networked, DIY, family that I've been building and I want to keep building it -- keep moving towards the "big poly family" fantasy I've had for so long.

That fantasy... It makes me smile.  I've got these pictures in my head of what it would be like:  A big house, with lots of rooms and a huge kitchen and shared living spaces on a sprawling plot of land.  Me, my partners, and their partners, and any kids any of us might have, all living together.  Metamours coming and going as they please -- a sort of ebb and flow of entanglement.  Everyone supporting one another, caring for one another, working together on things.  No one would ever have to be alone, or shoulder any burden by themselves, but there would still be plenty of space for anyone to get privacy when, and if, they wanted it.  Everyone allowed to be completely comfortable and accepted for who they are...

I know, a pipe dream, right?  But that fantasy keeps moving closer to reality, bit by bit.  I'd like to keep going in that direction, even if it's at a snail's pace.

Day 6: What new things came into your life this year, and what effects did they have?

There have been few truly new things in my life this year.  Sure, new electronics, new contracts for work, new software, new games, new books, new foods, new places... But those things don't change the status quo.  They're the same new things as last year, and the year before that.

I did gain a brother-in-law, but that wasn't so new a thing as it might seem.  While the title may have been new, he'd already been part of the family for years.  Any lasting effect my sister's wedding had on me had less to do with the marriage itself, and more to do with crystalizing the family dynamics of those of us in attendance.  Seeing relatives I hadn't seen in a year, or longer, having to be around my mother's distain and condescension... Family lines drew themselves in indelible ink, and it has never been more clear how much I am my father's daughter and not my mother's.

The other new thing I've already talked about.  I don't want to run on at the mouth about him, because I don't want to seem like a silly little school girl with a crush.  But of everything, OBF and the things around him, have had the most effect on me.  There's all the wonderful things I've already mentioned, of course.  There's other wonderful things too: the additional love and support through hard things, that make them easier; the days spent with him, lives integrating in meaningful ways; table top RPG's with him and his friends; having him take me to my first film shoot, and discovering that I'm actually useful on a set (with my clothes on, for once); being encouraged to write, to be artistic, and be creative... I even eat breakfast now, every day, at his request.

There have been not so great things too.  The added stress from trying to juggle logistics, for one.  The struggle to get decent time together alone.  The pain, and angst, over difficulties with his wife, and the emotional flashbacks that all triggers for me.  I know I'm being vague.  I just don't feel it's fair to try and explain all that here, in a single post.  The effects have been far reaching, though, and harshly so despite my glossing them over.

But the good far outweighs the bad, for me.  And I'm much happier than I have been, in a long while, because of it.

Day 5: What is the most important thing you learned about yourself this year?

This is a tough question to try and answer while struggling with depression.  Very little seems important and, despite knowing that I've learned things about myself, it doesn't feel like I've made very much progress or learned anything that I haven't already learned before (and promptly forgotten).  It would be easy to let myself think that all the self introspection I've done over the past year has been pointless -- an elaborate and overly drawn out mental masturbation session.  But would that be the truth?

While I'm honest to a fault with those I care about, I'm not always very good about being honest with myself.  Rather, there are places in my head that have been so warped, so twisted, that their perception of what's true is at odds with reality.  Some of those places are easy to spot.  Some, however, are not.  I'm learning to be better at recognizing them, though.  And learning which places those are, leraning which bits of my personal reality are distorted to the point of dishonesty, is pretty important.  Beyond that, learning what makes me go to those places is pretty important too.  As is learning what build those bastions of bias within my psyche.  After all, those are the places that my depression comes from.  Those are the places that my fears and insecurities about not being good enough, worthy, or deserving of any of the good things in my life, come from.  And those are the places that my certainty that, no matter what, I am not safe and never will be, comes from.

The most important thing, though, hasn't been any of that.  The most important thing has been learning how to face those places in myself -- how to go there, on purpose, confront the personal demons that are in residence, and exorcize them.  There are times I feel like Sybil: meeting the tortured, ugly, facets of myself and embracing them, comforting them, when what I really want to do (what I used to do) is push them back into their dark corners in my head, and lock them away there, forgetting that they even exist.  But I've learned that if I do that, if I don't confront them, they just break out again and fuck with everything.   So...  Confrontation it is.

I Have Been Writing...

... It's just been on paper, and I haven't gotten the chance to type it all up into this thing yet.

Holiday stuff, and other logistical issues, are kinda getting in the way of regular daily life, so lots of other things have fallen a bit by the wayside (laundry... dishes... cleaning the bathroom <sigh>), and I can't really put this above those things.

Gonna try to find some time tomorrow night to do it.

Posts Will Resume Shortly

Depression sucks.  I can't seem to write for shit the last day or two.  Hopefully I'll snap out of it in another day or so, and I'll play catch up.

Thanks holiday season.

<sigh>

Day 4: Describe the most difficult experience you had this year. How did you get through it?

When I was a teenager, I was a cutter.  It was just as much something fueled by masochistic tendencies as it was a symptom of the lack of control over my own existence that I felt because of my abusive childhood.  And it was an escape.  But it was an escape that I left behind, in those teenage years, that I'd grown out of.  At least... I thought I had.

A few months ago, LIBF and I were spending an evening relaxing, having a few drinks, and just generally goofing off together on the internet and what not.  Not unusual for us.  But, for whatever reason, things got away from us.  I'm an experienced drinker.  I can usually drink guys twice my size under the table, and still be thirsty.  LIBF, however, does not have that same ability.  He's the epitome of lightweight.  And how much he had to drink... Was more than either of us realized in the moment.  If I'd known how much he'd had I would have stopped him before it got to the point it did, because I know he isn't always aware of his own limits and breaking them isn't generally a pretty thing.  I usually keep track of what he's had, and how much.  This time, my awareness slipped.  And this time, things definitely weren't pretty.

At first it was okay.  But he started taking things I said the wrong way, and before I knew it, we were fighting.  We were fighting in a way that we'd never fought before.  And he was saying the ugliest things I'd ever heard him say, in our entire 7+ years together.  And when he said those things, it triggered the worst emotional flashback I've ever had.  20 years of maturity disappeared, in a word, and I was suddenly the scared 12-13 year old that I never thought I'd be again, being berated one more time by my mother for all the failings she thought I had.  Every ounce of self reliance, self confidence, and self respect I had for myself vanished.  Because this was worse than my mother saying all those things.  It was LIBF saying all those things.  Someone that I loved, and trusted, with all my heart, was reciting the litany of insecurities I'd had drilled into me my entire first 20 years of life as if they were gospel.  And then, in a fit of anger, he walked out the door and left me alone with my mother's voice echoing in my head.

I crumbled.  I dissolved.  I... broke.  And then, I cut.

It wasn't a conscious decision.  I was so deep into emotional flashbacks that I wasn't even seeing my own apartment as I was walking through it.  I saw my mother's house.  I didn't see myself in the mirror as I am now, I saw me as I was as 12 year old.  It was almost hallucinatory.  A complete break from reality.  A transitory psychotic episode (I'm pretty sure that's what a psychiatrist would have called it, in a medical record).  Temporary insanity.  And because of it, I wasn't me.  I didn't have any of the tools that I've worked so hard to acquire over the years.  I didn't have any of the coping mechanisms, or any of the defenses.  All I had was what I would do when I was a teenager.  And cutting was what I had to feel in control, to feel like I was safe, to feel anything except the pain that was being inflicted on me by things outside myself -- even if it was pain that I was inflicting on myself -- and to feel like there was an end, somewhere, to what I was feeling (yeah, that's pretty damned morbid... Sorry...).

The act snapped me out of my altered state.  But not before I'd managed a number of deep slices across my thigh.  And "coming to" was devastating.  The guilt, shame, regret, and fear, about what I'd just done to myself was overwhelming.

To my credit, I didn't try to hide it.  When LIBF came back home after an hour or two, and apologized, and I finally relaxed into his attempts to make up, I admitted what I'd done.  And when I talked to OBF the next morning, I admitted what I'd done.  They were both unhappy about it, and for a bit LIBF blamed himself (until I set him straight about it) and was confused (I tried to explain, but this is a man who doesn't even really understand depression, so it was kind of hopeless).  

Admitting it was probably the best thing I could have done, though.  Not just because they both would have noticed the cuts anyway, but because it made me face the full weight of it.  OBF even made me write about it, why I'd done it, what was going through my head, what it felt like, everything about it.  Which forced me to look at it, when I would have preferred to just forget it ever happened.  It forced me to look at it, and see what effect it had on other people.  Writing about it, knowing OBF would read it, and be upset by it, was incredibly hard to do.  It hurt to do that.  But that was the point.  Facing all that, made me not want to do it again.

You see, cutting can be addictive.  And the longer I go without doing it, the easier it is to continue not doing it.  Because the seduction of it fades over time, and I even start to forget that it's even an option.  But once I "fell off the wagon", and did it again, the idea that I could do it "just one more time" stayed in my mind.  Every time I feel bad, or even just see the cuts, the desire to do it floods to the forefront of my thoughts.  Even now, because the scars haven't quite healed yet, when I run my fingers over them, I find myself thinking "One more time wouldn't be so bad, would it? Just one more?  A little one?  Then I'll quit for good, really, I will"  But I know it wouldn't just be one more time.  I know if I gave in that way, I wouldn't quit.

That desire... That sensuous, seductive, dark, desire to cut again, is the most difficult experience I've had this year.  And I keep having it.  I will probably keep having it long after the scars on my thigh finish healing.  Writing about it, right now, is tugging at that desire, even; it's digging it up and letting it breathe...

<shakes head and takes a deep breath>  Moving on...

As for getting through it... Understanding the motivations behind my wanting to do it helps me fight that desire.  Having people who care about me, and understanding how deeply it upsets those people, helps me fight that desire.  And remembering that I have better tools than that helps too.

Getting out of the house, when I hit an emotional flashback and start to feel like that scared, trapped, little girl again, is a good tool.  It helps me feel less trapped, and keeps me away from sharp objects at the same time.  LIBF has spent a good couple tanks of gas just driving me around aimlessly in the middle of the night, letting me sit there in silence smoking too many cigarettes, or rant at the countryside, or talk to him, while I try to sort out my head.  Walking is a good tool too, though in winter it can be kinda hard to manage (being drenched icy rain is probably just as destructive as a self inflicted cut or two).  Writing is also a decent thing to do, to process all those fucked up emotions, and it's been pretty effective once I get past the initial whirlwind of things.

Day 3: Describe the most rewarding experience you had this year. What made it so rewarding?

I've done lots of really rewarding things this year.  But the single most rewarding experience I've had is still ongoing, and can be summed up with one person's name.  That'd be cheating though.  And this prompt is late, as it is, so I won't give in to the urge to cheat.  Describing, though, means I have to talk about things that I'm not normally very open about, outside of certain social circles.  So, read with care.

I happen to fall into several different subcultures.  One of which is "ethical non-monogamy" -- specifically, polyamory.  The other is BDSM -- where I fall into the submissive category of participants.  I suppose it's pretty obvious why I might not be very open about those things.  Most people freak out a little over each idea, on it's own.  When you combine the two, you tend to be viewed as a bit of a freak.

Anyway... After a bout of relationships (not my core relationship -- other, less monumental ones) ending with all the peace and calm of a nuclear bomb going off, I'd all but removed myself from the dating scene.  I had a couple friends with benefits that I still kept on with, and my live in BF (who I have been referring to as M, on this thing, but that could get confusing now, so I'll call him LIBF from here on out, ok?), and that was good enough.  I didn't need any more heartbreak, so I was keeping to myself.  Of course, the moment I actively stop looking for involvement, that's always the moment when it ends up in my lap (pun kind of intended).

Through a series of events that, in hindsight, were fairly ironic and random at the same time, I met someone in August.  Someone who, for once, was experienced to at least some degree with non-monogamy (rather than the usual parade of single guys who are only with a poly chick cuz they haven't found their "one and only" yet).  Someone who, for once, was into other subcultures I was into (mmm kink).  Someone who thought my lisp (Yeah, a lisp.  Fuck you esSth sthoundsth!) was adorable and sexy.  Someone who wasn't scared off by my unique brand of bat-shit-crazy-ness.  Who was smart, thoughtful, caring, and made me laugh.  Who has the sexiest long hair I'd ever seen in person, the most amazingly bright blue eyes I'd ever looked into, a mouth that I can't look at and do anything other than think of (at least) kissing, and who perked all the "omg geekgasm!" bits of me.  Someone who, instantly and without my even thinking about it in the least, inspired submission in me.

But, I'd taken myself off the market.  Right?  Uh... So much for that idea.

I fell fast enough my head spun.  I fought it, feebly, but that was so futile of an endeavor it barely even counted.  And before I knew it, I was Owned.  Not collared (if you understand the difference, great.  If not, it doesn't really matter much... Kind of like the difference between "committed long term relationship" and "married"), but Owned.  I was property, like I'd always wanted to be, but could never quite get to be.  And my fantasies of a "big poly family", with both my LIBF and my OBF (other boyfriend?  Owner boyfriend? Either works) spending time together, even all of us hanging out and doing mundane things like watching movies with the kiddo, were being fed and fulfilled.

As much drama as there's been around this new relationship (so not going into any of that), as much struggle and bullshit from external sources as there's been, it's been beyond worth it for me, and rewarding in ways I couldn't even imagine.  Sometimes, I see myself as a puzzle that's only partially put together.  There's all these pieces that haven't been put into place yet.  And figuring out how to put those pieces into place is pretty hard, because there's no box top picture to look at and know what the end result is supposed to look like.  And suddenly, a bunch of pieces got put into place.  This whole gigantic section that'd been empty, waiting and aching to be filled, wasn't empty anymore.  There's parts of me that are whole, now, that I had almost given up hope on completing.

Day 2: What steps did you take to try and improve yourself this year, and were they successful?

I really ask the hard ones, don't I?  Well, I suppose that actually feeds into my answer.  Taking a more active approach to introspection, rather than just letting it happen naturally, has been one step.  It's part of why I was eager to do this project, actually.  And asking myself the hard questions, is an integral piece of that.  Personal examination is always an ongoing process -- there's never a place where you can go "okay, I've learned everything there is to know about myself, I'm done" -- so I guess I have to measure success in it as a sort of "is this helping" kinda way.  And yes, it's helping a lot.

Tied in with the introspection is giving myself the physical and emotional space to do it.  That's a much harder thing for me to do.  My life is crowded.  Not busy, exactly, but crowded.  I don't get much time to myself, except in the wee hours of the morning (midnight to 4am+).  And getting those hours means either sleeping the rest of the day away, or being tired indefinitely.  I'm willing to make those trade-offs though, even if it's not every day.  And caffeine helps a lot there.  Having the space to dim the lights, pour a finger or two of bourbon, put on my "contemplation" playlist, and write uninterrupted for hours, is worth it to me.

Research is another thing I've done -- specifically about my C-PTSD -- to give myself more tools to handle life better.  I've had a default sort of toolbox; tips and tricks for managing panic, and fear, and insecurity.  But that toolbox seemed to be a bit empty, and at several points I was feeling entirely overwhelmed and hopeless even after using every tool I had.  Emotional flashbacks were getting worse, not better.  Panic attacks were increasing, not decreasing.  So I went searching for ways to handle those things, over and above my normal introspective practices.  And yeah, that's been pretty successful.  Having a list of things to mentally go through if I hit those points is... Invaluable.  I even carry the list around in my wallet, just in case.  [I'm more than happy to send a copy to anyone who wants it -- it's a several step long list of things to do to manage emotional flashbacks, both in the moment and long term, that you can either work through on your own, or have someone help you through, that was developed by a therapist]

The biggest thing though... And by far the hardest... Has been enrolling in a program with the Division of Vocational Rehabilitation (DVR).  Through some of that introspection, I realized that having my "work" be what it is, is making me feel like I'm less than self sufficient.  Yes, I contribute a great deal to things with the business being run out of my living room.  My involvement has meant a number of great advancements, and increased income.  But, when, for tax-type reasons I don't get a regular paycheck of my own... I don't really feel employed.  When I spend more days than not plunking around on the web instead of having a clear goal, I don't really feel employed.  And the lack of that feeling, makes me feel like a burden.  And it makes me feel like my future is too dependent upon other people.  I need to have some semblance of self-sufficiency to be happy.  But, finding a normal job with the sorts of medical issues I have is pretty damned difficult.  So...  I made an appointment with the DVR.

Thing about that is, in order to qualify for services from the DVR, you have to not just admit that you suffer from a disability, you have to prove that you do.  And one of the ways that I manage life is by refusing to think of myself as disabled.  Having to prove that I'm disabled undermines that "I'm not disabled, I'm not a cripple, I can do this, dammit" mentality that I need to get through all the crap that my problems cause.  And undermining that mentality can (and did) send me into a depressive spiral.  But I crawled out of it.  And I went to the follow up appointment.  And crawled out of the depression that caused too.  And I went to the psychiatric evaluation appointment, and pulled myself out of that depression too.  And after all that, I've qualified for services.  Not that I'm entirely sure what that means... I just know that there are any number of avenues that it could take me in that would get me much more self sufficient than I feel like I am right now.

I don't know if the DVR thing is a success, yet.  I do know that it feels like a success to have gotten through the parts of it that I have gotten through.  Those things were incredibly difficult.  And the fallout sucked even more.  So that I survived it is something to be proud of on it's own, right?

Day 1: What was the most prominent theme for your life in 2012? Why?

Throughout this past year, tangled up within the struggles and adulations, there has been one common thread to just about everything I've done.  I've been trying to find a name for that thread, a single word to use as a title for it, because it seems to want that kind of cohesion.  It's something that I've wanted as a theme for life, an overreaching impetus, for a very long time.  That theme is matriarchal; the nurturing of family.

I have been a mother for almost 14 years now.  Longer if you include gestational periods.  But in those 14 years, I never really felt like a matriarch.  I didn't feel I was nurturing, so much as I was doing my best at just scraping by.  I didn't feel... Powerful in it.  But that's changed.  And while that change has been happening slowly over the past few years, it's really come on full force in this last one.

At the end of 2011, the very end, we had Christmas here at my house.  Not just any Christmas, but a Christmas where my dad, and his girlfriend, and her daughter, and my brother, and my boyfriend's grandmother and mother came.  This was my first Christmas where I hosted my dad in my house.  Where I cooked for him in my kitchen, on my stove, with my pots and pans, and served him at my table, in my chairs.  It's something that held, and still holds, so much personal and cultural identity for me, having grown up in a family dynamic where food, and feasting, was a core expression of unity and affection.  It was a rite of passage, for me, cooking for my father.  And I went, in one 3 day period, from being "daddy's little girl" to being the female leader of my family -- a matriarch.  I took on the role that my grandmother, my mother, or my father's ex wife, had played for so many years, and I made it my own.

Since that point, I've seen so much more of that matriarchal nurturing in myself.  I don't know if it was there all along, and I just wasn't seeing it, or if last Christmas was a turning point in my personality, or what.  I suppose I could ask other people and see what they think.  But that's besides the point.  The point is, I see it in myself now.  I'm even embracing it.  I'm much more comfortable "mothering" the people I care about.  I'm more at ease with my protective instincts towards the people I love.  And this year has had a lot of occasion for me to be hit full force with those instincts.

Playing "nurse girlfriend" (no, not the kinky sort) for one boyfriend, when he had a health issue.  Fighting tooth and nail to protect my son from his fucked up father.  Working to find solutions to mother-not-quite-in-law financial and health problems.  Adding a second boyfriend to the mix, and supporting him with problems he's dealing with.  Being there when my sister got married.  Increasing connections with extended family that I haven't interacted with much, but should have.

I've put in a lot of effort (I won't call it work, because I don't really see it that way) to protect family, keep it safe, healthy, and feeling cared for, this year.  Even in doing things to better myself, so that I can be a better resource for them.  And family has grown for me, and thrived, because of it.

I think that's a pretty great theme to have for the year.  And it's something I'm proud of.

Revisiting 2012 in Writing Prompts

The thing that spurred the creation of this blog back in 2011, was to participate in a "Reverb2010" series of writing prompts.  Admittedly, I never quite got to the end of that project as I got sick of the prompts, and just couldn't stay motivated.  Last year was busy beyond belief, so I didn't try to do it again -- and there wasn't even a "Reverb" for that year anyway, so I suppose it's good I didn't try to get into it.

This year, a group of us decided to do one of our own.

I see this as a therapeutic way to process the year.  To figure out where I've been, and ground myself, so I can figure out where I'm going (if I'm going anywhere).  It's centering, for me, to do this kind of thing above and beyond what my normal journaling might provides.

So... We've jointly come up with 3 weeks worth of daily writing prompts.  Anyone who would like is welcome to join us, and follow along with our prompts.  You can just read, if you like, too.

Here's the list:

1. What was the most prominent theme for your life in 2012?  Why?
2. What steps did you take to try and improve yourself this year, and were they successful?
3. Describe the most rewarding experience you had this year.  What made it so rewarding?
4. Describe the most difficult experience you had this year.  How did you get through it?
5. What is the most important thing you learned about yourself this year?
6. What new things came into your life this year, and what effects did they have?
7. What would you like the focus of 2013 to be, and why?
8. If you could take back anything you did in 2012, larger or small, what would it be?  Why?
9. What made 2012 particularly different from other years of your life?
10. Create an imaginary character you could have used in your life this year.  Tell us about this being.
11. What was your biggest moment of joy this year?
12. When did you feel power within your pain this year?  Describe the moment and all it's sensations and emotions.
13. What well-known person (actress, politician, comedian, talk-show hostess, what-have-you) would play you in a movie of your life in 2012?  Why this person?  And what would be the movie's title?
14. What do you want to let go of as 2013 comes our way?
15. So the world is ending, the Mayans were right and fire and doom are reigning down -- what do you you most regret having left undone in your life?
16. Imagine the most amazing meal that you can; a final feast to bid 2012 goodbye -- from food, to setting, to company invited and conversation.  Describe in detail.
17. How did you feed your brain this year?  What is the most interesting or important thing you learned?
18. It is New Year's Eve, the clock is striking midnight and you suddenly realize you have the ability to travel to any year in history.  When and where would you go?
19. If you could relive one day from 2012, which one and why?
20. What is the best, and worst, piece of advice you received or gave in 2012?
21. Compose a haiku for 2012

Bonus prompt:  What people in your life in 2012 would you rather not have in your life for 2013?  Who and why, and how do they push your buttons?  What is the lesson in it all? 

A New Look For A New Endeavor

I've redone the look of this thing, because after who knows how long (okay, Google knows how long, it's right there in the dates on the posts), I'm using this thing again.

Post with the details of the new endeavor is forthcoming.  Shortly.