Tag triggers

3 posts

KieryClam

If I’ve learned anything over the last week it’s that as nice as hiding from everything sounds it’s not necessarily helpful, or useful, and it doesn’t stop me from internalizing all of the things.
Sometimes problems get so overwhelming and I think avoiding them will help and it seems like a great idea, but what happens is I just end up having a mental breakdown and needing someone to help pry me open so I can talk about things and actually process them instead of just letting them build and pretending it’s not happening.
So Wednesday night I crashed and I was like I don’t know, I don’t know what’s wrong or why, or how to fix it, and Alex has spent the better part of our relationship learning how to interpret and pry open the Kiery, because sometimes I don’t know even how to start expressing myself (thanks childhood of completely shutting down), so that I can deal with life again.
I think I need to be asked (multiple times) because I need to know it’s safe to talk and that it’s safe to be honest about how I’m doing and that sticking to pleasantries (and convincing others of their true-ness) isn’t necessary. So that way I’m sure that if I’m honest about how I’m feeling I won’t be adding (too much?) weight to the person who’s asking.
For me, a lot of times I know things are bothering me but I don’t know what; it’s a vast overwhelming void of everything and nothing and I couldn’t describe anything if you just asked me. So a lot of my process involves pulling on threads and seeing which one unravels the skein. It still ends up being a lot of everything and nothing but at least it’s identifiable, at least then I can work through it and feel like my head’s above water for a little bit.
I’m doing better today, and I was doing better yesterday – sometimes I just need help because I can’t traverse my brain all by myself, which sounds stupid, but there you go. I can’t articulate so I shut down and internalize and I do it so much that I can’t escape without aid. But now I know (again), I guess, so all of the things that bother me still bother me but I need to process them instead of shutting down and absorbing.
Over the last couple days that I’ve been feeling okay:
I’ve been working out and started a new tumblr with mara, upped my step goal to 5k steps a day instead of 2k
I drew Humorotica this week! And I didn’t hate my drawing, and I doodled today and also didn’t hate that either.
My hiking shoes and combat boots came in and are awesome
I discovered leggings.
I had a thought about KieryGeek that wasn’t just guilt for the first time since July.
I have a lot of disjointed thoughts and feelings on gamergate and when I’m honest, I kinda reallllly hoped it would just go away already but it’s not and I feel like I need to talk about it and draw a comic about it, and maybe even make a vlog about it.
The huge thing is, I can think again, and I feel okay again, and I have about as much of a clue about why I suddenly feel better as I did about why I felt bad (which is to say, I don’t know), but I think acknowledging that my avoid-everything strategy lead to absorb-all-the-sads-and-keep-them-there helped. Realizing that things do affect me even if they don’t affect me directly is kinda crucial, and you’d think I’d figure that out, but at some point I just lose myself and I’m like NO I MUST FEEL ALL OF THESE, AND YOUR FEELS, AND YOUR FEELS, AND THEY ARE MINE NOW, GO ABOUT YOUR BUSINESS, and it’s not something I need to be doing (but it’s almost impossible to not do because empath), and especially not something that’s healthy for me to hold on to without processing – because it piles and it piles fast and triggers become more intense and…anyway, I lost my point.
I guess I’m just trying to say, I feel better after Alex talked to me and tried to help me make sense of things and then all of the things had names again and now I’m not drowning in an ocean of depression today, and that makes me happy.
 

Being a Girl is Just Better

I found our last two bibles in the closet the other day, one of which is KJV (of course). I spent this evening trying to do art with/deface it, and I got up to leviticus before getting bored/having it in my face started getting to me. It’s weird how triggering objects can be – bibles, dental floss, strollers, big vans…
I’ve felt weirdly out of it this week, kinda listless and unfocused, but antsy. So I’ve been puttering. Puttering is a weird word, it’s really fun to say, but it was also a word my parents used a lot, but it’s also a word I don’t know how to replace. Puttering: doing random busy work/cleaning that doesn’t require too much thought or result in much stress energy. I putter around on the sites I manage – make tweaks and updates, I’ve been de-cluttering random stuff IRL (actually only have two reachable surfaces left)…puttering. The phrase is like a low grade trigger.
And maybe it’s that, and a run-in with general triggery things this weekend that’s been making the phrase my dad repeated ad-nauseam stuck in my head all day.
Being a girl is just better
I don’t know what made him think that – maybe a little bit of jealousy because my mom got to stay home and sit in a recliner in a state almost-constant pregnancy, or maybe because in their sexist complimentarian marriage, he had to carry all the weight?
What wasn’t said at the end of the phrase was strongly implied:
Being a girl is just better:

  • because you don’t have to worry about responsibility
  • you don’t have to make hard decisions
  • you don’t have to fight or stand up for yourself or your family
  • you always have a man to protect you
  • you don’t have to get a job or do anything but homemaking (fun?)
  • you don’t have to think about anything
  • you don’t need to be smart or have thoughts of your own
  • you get to be served by men (by staying home and doing what they want you to do in exchange for dates and some of their income?)

Being a girl is just better because who needs autonomy anyway?
Being a girl meant:
I didn’t get to decide anything (and that was better because decisions are hard)
I always had someone to take the fall (which was better than me having responsibility for myself)
I didn’t need to learn “male” skills – like basic building, or how to pump gas or change a tire (I could just have a guy do it for me)
If I could cook, hold my tongue, and produce children, I would be a success (because women don’t need their own thoughts)
My dad/husband/brother could/would get me out of any situation and defend me (because I couldn’t defend myself)
In exchange for my autonomy I get a pre-defined life of luxury (if luxury = breeder, chef, teacher, house keeper, and sex toy)
 
Even though no one has told me that phrase in years, sometimes, with conversations with people, it’s still a really strong undertone.
Because even though other people never phrased it quite like my dad did, this insidious patriarchal brain worm, this line they tell people-born-with-uteri: Life is better for you, great for you even, just stay in line, and you’ll never want for anything.
I think being reminded that I’m not what any of the parent-figures in my life had planned for me to be, is just another version of the same line.
Being a girl is just better: just stay in line, and everything will be perfect*.
But even when I was a little kid, and I was told that my lot in life was just better… I knew it was a lie.
Maybe some people can happily trade their autonomy and agency for being “taken care of”, but that deal never seemed sweet to me, it seemed wrong and unfair, though I didn’t have any words for it or any way to express it.
Being a human adult may be more work, require more effort, and mean I have to own my decisions, but I lived without autonomy for my whole childhood, and I’d much rather own my decisions than be denied my agency.
I don’t care if that means I’m not who I was planned to be.
Fuck the patriarchy.

Venting

Between mother’s day in two weeks (whyyyy is it a thing?), and the sudden influx of assholes-with-strollers, and pregnant people EVERYWHERE… current status:

I’m tired of feeling unaccepted and invalid and broken because my existence flies in the face of what is accepted and “normal”. But for the life of me, I can’t write anything coherent. I’m just grumpy and angry and there’s too much of everyone and everything.
Can I live in Seattle already?