Sarah Ditum had a wonderful article published in the New Statesman today that really brought home just how terrifying the regression of reproductive rights is for me. Roe vs Wade was argued a decade before my birth; I’ve never known a time when I didn’t have at least lip-service to the right to decide whether I wanted to continue a pregnancy or not. I was barely of voting age the last time the Global Gag Order was reinstated.
- This week has been… tricky so far but I don’t really want to talk about it. Instead, lets talk about how Marvel put out a new Hawkeye comic starring the one, the only, Kate Bishop! I’ve been super excited about this coming out for the month or so that I’ve known it was coming. Right up until yesterday, when I read Marvel’s blurb about it. Even cute! Between the “adorable” on the cover, and the phrase “the chick who puts the hawk in Hawkeye”, I was a little concerned that the book would be more eye-candy ridiculous than an actual story with meat on it.
- A friend of mine shared a write-up about “surviving antidepressants” today with the intention of providing suggestions on how to deal with depression and anxiety following the political shifts we are experiencing right now. I clicked it curiously and was horrified by what I read. The writers story sounded extremely frustrating, with a bad experience with one antidepressant and one doctor, and I feel their pain for that. However, their conclusions made me furious.
- You can tell a lot about how I am doing on any given day, by looking at what I am wearing. For a long time, it was just my socks - purple dinosaur knee socks were a sure indicator that something was feeling shaky, yellow elephants friendship socks might mean I was feeling alone. These days, it’s gone a bit further. I’m a bandaid & some purple aviators away from dressing as Hawkeye at least once a week, and if the right bits aren’t clean, I’ll at least wear the purple Chucks.
- I wrote most of this earlier this week except the conclusion, mostly because I hadn’t come to one yet. It’s amazing what a difference a few days make – I’m in a completely different place right now, as you can see from the final paragraph. Keep plugging, friends, things don’t stay hard forever. I’ve been struggling this last couple weeks, I was out of town visiting my adorable brand-new nephew and helping my sister and her husband out, then my husband was out of town, attending a wedding.
- Today I got an email from my DM, which I wanted to share with you, ‘cuz it brightened my day (along with my smart-ass comments). Since the beginning of this campaign, I’ve been giving names to each of our sessions as if they were episodes of a show or chapters of a book. Tonight will be Episode 27: Two Boats are Better Than One. Especially if one is stolen from your (my) personal enemy and can’t safely dock in any port nearby!
- I broke ANOTHER pair of earbuds, this week. This is the 4th pair in the last 2-ish years, and I am pretty fed up. I keep breaking the connection between the plug and the wire, causing one earbud or the other to stop making noise, and me to walk around with my head tilted sideways and a confused look on my face. It’s really undignified. These are my current earbuds. They’re relatively cheap, relatively comfortable, and when I accidentally leave them in my pants pocket and they go through the wash, they tend to work afterwards.
- Thanks for letting me set the level of interaction I needed, without making me feel like I was putting anyone out or rejecting anyone. Thanks for not making a big deal out of my not drinking. Thanks for reminding me that I am not alone in my anxieties, and that it’s okay to have things make me feel insecure. Thank you for including me into your family with open arms, even when I didn’t know what to do with them all!
- Yesterday someone shared a Medium post that I really liked reading. It has a lot of bits that really resonated with me, talking about being part of the queer community and dealing with the recent attack on the LGBT community in Orlando. In particular, this quote: Am I allowed to feel this devastated, this full of rage? Am I gay enough to be this upset? Am I appropriating the grief of real gay people?
- I started therapy with a therapist whose primary approach is Cognitive Behavior Therapy, rather than “just” check-ins with my prescribing doctor about my moods & how the meds are going, in early February. That shit is HARD. I’ve heard “lets look at it a different way” and “But what if it wasn’t?” a LOT, recently. Lots about self-care, and ways to basically hack my life and manage expectations so that I feel better about where I am now, rather than frustrated about where I could be.