Hmm.

This weekend I found a CD of all my old pictures from senior year of high school and my year at Shasta College. So, Spring '05-fall '06. It was a trip to see photos of my first major girl crush, all my ex-boyfriends, the first night I got wasted, my first weekend in Chico, that horrible trip to Humboldt the day I got fired from JC Penney where tweekers broke into Josh's car and stole my stuff... I used to document everything back then. It was all so new and exciting. Especially the drinking and the boys. I can't believe it's been five fucking years since I got out of high school and four years since I moved to Chico. That feels like a different life, lived by a different person; but shit, it's gone by so quickly.

Today I was sitting outside Empire with YJ listening to two people play guitar and sing pretty softly under an overcast sky. There was a pleasant breeze. I was trying to articulate the anxieties I have about finding a partner. I don't know if I was super relaxed because of the atmosphere or what, but I started being honest with myself. To continue the trend, here are some concerns:

1. I very rarely meet people that I'm emotionally, intellectually, and sexually attracted to. Hell, I barely meet people I want to retain as close friends, let alone partners.

2. I've internalized all the cultural ideals of forever monogomy and soulmates, especially after growing up looking at my parents' marriage. I don't want to believe in this, but deep down, the messages are still influencing me.

3. At the same time, cognitively I don't believe that marriage or a lifelong partnership would work for me. I'm not even sure I believe in monogomy. But how do I reconcile this with the visceral emotional reactions I have in real life? My insecurities tend to overwhelm the happy ideals of non-ownership and mutual trust.

4. Going deeper, I see myself with a man. I know this is internalized heterosexism, but if I'm totally honest with myself, I picture myself sharing my life with a man. This is not what I consciously want. Sexually, I'm much more interested in women. I would probably need an open relationship if a long-term partnership with a man were to develop. But again... I don't know if I'm capable of handling that. So it's a shitty double bind.

I've got years to process this, I know. That's what our 20s are for, right? But I want to fit "it." I want to fall in love and have it turn into something stable. Not right now, and not in the near future, but sometime... and I'd like to have some idea of what it could look like.

Check-in.

The families have had to cancel a lot this semester, so practicum ends up being time to hang out more than anything else. Yesterday I spent the time breaking off from the group with Kevin and Pat, eating hella scones, and talking smack. I enjoy the time it gives me with Pat, especially, since he is so overloaded with his family and work and school and doesn't go out much.

Other things of note:
Poor sleep/depressive symptoms I need to get on top of asap, except not enough to write about them. Ha.
Fuckin' allergies
Always girl-crazy, but been boy-crazy the past week too. What?
Two "talks" I need to have this week
BLAAAAAHHHHHH.

Just venting.

So. Our AS president was stabbed in a hate crime this weekend (he is, physically at least, okay) after a few weeks of rising racial tensions in the community. People are outraged; there was a forum; etc. I was fucking angry when I heard the news last night, but not surprised. What a privileged position, to be surprised by hate crimes! In any case, clearly there needs to be a response. An intervention. But what? A short-lived awareness campaign and more forums aren't going to help much. Broader systemic solutions are needed... but are they plausible?

This morning I helped my first client at Safe Place. I see my couple tomorrow for class and things are starting to pick up at 6th Street. This in conjunction with the questions raised by the hate crime has resulted in one of those classic days of helping profession anguish. I see an endless parade of clients in front of me who are living out the symptoms of our sick society, and to what end? Societal change is fucking slow and will never come close to reaching our ideal. (Sure, we have people working tirelessly for our goals. But I have little faith in the motives of people in positions of power and influence. Once you get out of the trenches, compromises must be made at every level, and once it reaches the top, so to speak, what the fuck does it mean anymore?) So we keep absorbing the trauma of our clients and loved ones while feeling powerless to eradicate the source. Not to mention our own experiences of trauma and oppression, and the added stress of potential triggers every hour of the workday.

There are other, more productive ways to frame this and I'm usually more optimistic (idealistic?) than I am today. But I am new to all of this and it's fucking overwhelming sometimes. I suspect that I will get better at processing these ideas with time. I won't allow myself to succumb to burnout or apathy, that's for sure.

Navel-gazing.

The first thing I said when I woke up yesterday was "Really?" It was 5:30 am. I sat up and looked over in disbelief at Bo's bare shoulder peeking out over the covers. It all came back to me: How Michele and I started way too early and drank way too much, how she met a boy and we all went to hang out at his house, how insecure she became towards me, how the tension triggered mad anxiety in me, and how I felt like a child desperate for comfort-- how, in that desperation, I "had to leave" and seek out someone I trusted to envelop me with warmth and calm me down. My options were limited, since the pool of people I trust to take care of me when I'm an emotional drunk is small anyway, and most of it lives outside Chico. So I called YJ and Bo. I spent the next few hours sitting in Bo's room having a minor meltdown. He helped me process through it and eventually I got to the point where I could carry on a normal conversation. The last thing I remember is him asking if it was fucked up that he wanted to cuddle with me right then, and us cuddling despite our shared ambivalence. I guess we fell asleep that way because neither of us remember moving apart, which is highly unusual, but I digress. I woke up at 5:30 am and was overcome with insecurity remembering these things.

It turned out fine. Michele and I apologized to each other. I apologized to Bo and he seemed to understand. But the experience reminded me of how I need to safeguard myself against the anxiety. It was incredibly difficult for me to climb out of the shame spiral I found myself in-- and impossible the night before when I was drunk. I had been doing so well the week before, too; thinking positively, feeling confident, trusting myself. Just goes to show how quickly and violently it can break back in.

Last night was a bit more carefree. Michele and I went to Duffy's and were courted by middle-aged businessmen. They actually sent drinks over through the bartender. We told them we were gay and talked politics-- managed to turn it into a productive conversation that perhaps changed some minds.

And today: feeling aimless and trying to decipher what need isn't being met. Went for a long powerwalk earlier and it was great.

So many things that you can't say in a public blog. I am wondering how things are going to change now that MJ and Stacey have broken up. How I can help them though it. How to soften my feelings for Bo and still be able to hang out with him, which, who was I kidding, is going to be a difficult task. How to tell my family about August graduation. How to talk to who's it about what's it. What can I do to help myself right now? Get productive? Watch something? The roof of my mouth is badly burnt from the pizza we ate last night. Maybe ice cream. What's open? Such helpful self-soothing.

Today

I slept in a little bit, till about 9:15, and the first thing I saw upon waking was the blue sky outside my window. Then I had a session with a couple at 6th St. that seemed to go well. Came home, ate leftover Thai, took a nap, and answered a message from a cute lady on OKCupid. Rode my bike back to 6th St. for a short shift, then rode to Empire to do case notes but ended up bullshitting outside with YJ and Bo and Ben. Afterwards, I walked through the market and picked up cucumber raita and naan from Guzetti's and strawberries to share with Michele. Just rode back home to a full house. Gonna eat and then we are riding to Coda for the Cammies folk showcase. The sun hasn't set yet and the raita is delicious. These are the kinds of days that remind me of how good my life is. I mean, damn.

I should be sleeping.

All the girls are gone. Lobby Days. I hate being in this house alone. It's been a good weekend, though. Friday night we went to the Shankers/Candy Apple show at Duffy's. I was transfixed by Candy Apple's bassist-- the stoic demeanor, the glasses-- swoon! After the show a little group of us started a dance party and I grooved on the stage. It took forever for me to get drunk; regardless, I was able to relax and enjoy being in the moment.

In the morning, we all woke up around the same time and commiserated in the living room while Peluche freaked out and chewed on everything in sight. MJ made us a delicious breakfast and we ate at the table, like a family. I realized how much I'm going to miss all of this when it's gone. That night I touched up my hair (it's fuschia now) and got some much-needed time alone.

And today, I spent several hours at Empire transitioning from "hanging out" to hanging out. A good talk was tucked in there-- closure, honesty, planning, validation, clarity-- although I had to add "We both know it's more than a glimmer" to the pile of things I'd say if I had balls. Ah well. Not so worried anymore. I know what I know about the past, and the future will take care of itself. I got Thai food, watched Veronica Mars, did homework, and Skyped Ish, who just finished a kickass run of the Vagina Monologues. She is so beautiful and strong, raw and immediate in a way that I can barely fathom. I wish she could remember these things.

Throat is sore. Realized I forgot to take my allergy meds this morning. So much to take care of tomorrow... why am I listening to Aesop Rock and blogging instead of trying to sleep? Okay, let's be honest, the answer to that is "I spent five hours drinking caffeine this afternoon." Curse you, Empire Coffee!

Other things I'd say if I had balls:
"I'm totally queer."
"You abuse your power in unacceptable ways."
"I want you back in my life."
"I want in your pants so badly it hurts."
"The intensity of your needs makes me uncomfortable."
"Sometimes when I think about the two of you, I feel like punching you and then crying."
"Let me live my own life."

Time to dig up some graves.

"Juliet knew that, to many people, she might seem to be odd and solitary-- and so, in a way, she was. But she had also had the experience, for much of her life, of feeling surrounded by people who wanted to drain away her attention and her time and her soul. And usually, she let them."

The best type of art, for me, is the kind that makes me want to create something myself. Reading Alice Munro makes me want to write. Yesterday I read the title story in Runaway on my midday break. I started to feel something stirring in me. But... I didn't have enough time to draw it out. Now I feel strangely pressured and lost-- as if I'm growing over myself, like thick vines on a wall, if that makes any sense at all. Something wants out. I can feel it clawing at my insides.

I had such a rich inner life as a teenager. Writing came so easily; it just happened, like breathing. I was more open with myself then. I was depressed, an insomniac, self-loathing-- but open with myself. Often I would stay up all night listening to music and writing, letting the emotion run over me like water. It didn't scare me necessarily, and I had no investment in my daily routine, which challenged me so little that I could afford to be anguished. Clearly that fact as well as the natural state of extreme adolescent narcissism created a prime environment for written exploration of each facet of the aforementioned inner life. I no longer have that luxury. Obviously, what makes it so difficult for me to write now is the efficiency with which I bury my emotions. Unconsciously I think I am afraid to let go and be spontaneous in that expression, since it might unleash something that could compromise my functioning. So... I hold back, despite my need to express, and then I'm unable to truly capture what I need to, so I get frustrated with myself, and give up.

This shit is maddening.

Scattered thoughts about our town.

Yesterday reminded me just how small and interconnected Chico is. This resulted in many ponderings. There are the ethical considerations of seeing clients in the wild and even mentioning it publicly in this blog. I'm also wondering what's more important to me at this time in my life, privacy or connection. My immediate family is a fairly closed system. There are clear differentiations between who is family and who isn't, and a lot of meaning attached to those labels. Other people are welcomed and respected, but they are still outsiders. Even logistical things reflect this. Having people "drop by" the house is a foreign concept. Photos of significant others don't go on the fridge or the walls. We don't speak openly about family problems. There are clear boundaries between us and the outside world.

Contrast this with the open system I now exist in here in Chico, where the boundaries between roles/people are fuzzy and negotiable. The nonprofits-- the queers-- the punk rockers-- the MFT/MSW programs-- all very, very "small" communities. MJ and Stacey were brainstorming women to set me up with last night and hit a dead end. I said I was on hiatus from looking because "in Chico, you know everyone, and it's always going to be the friend/ex of a friend/ex, and if it's not, you have to wonder about that person because otherwise, wouldn't someone you respect already be friends with them?"

And that is the double bind. I do love the sense of community that I feel here, but it can be oppressive. I enjoy walking in somewhere and seeing someone I know... unless it's an ex, or someone I had a falling out with, or a client. I like feeling like I know everyone, until I want to meet someone new.

I think my definitions of privacy and connection have changed quite a bit recently. My main focus now is balancing the two-- how to reaffirm and maintain my form while allowing it to be more flexible and permeable than ever before. Also, I realized while talking with Kevin on Tuesday that I've come to value that sense of community so highly that the prospect of losing it after graduation is fucking unsettling. I'm afraid to start over, and I want to share all of this with my brother when he moves here.

Hmm... being a therapist in a small town is challenging, and there are other issues, but overall, I feel at home in Chico right now. I am also on the verge of growing out of it and needing to broaden my horizons. Oh... the journey continues: allowing myself to "be where I am."

Today was so chaotic, so productive, so breathless, and mostly, just so fucking objectively beautiful, that I want to explode into a million pieces and be everywhere all at once: with myself, with my friends, with my family, with everyone I've ever known and loved. There is so much promise in the air; I can taste it.

Back the fuck off, shame spirals.

This situation is providing a lot of insight...

I can't decide whether to feel pathetic or strong. At the end of the day I'm leaning towards strong. Everyone's telling me variations on "You go, girl!", throwing out words like "brave" and "self-aware." They're not wrong. I am proud of myself for my honesty-- with myself and with Bo-- and how I allowed myself to inhabit the vulnerable place that it required.

The trouble I'm having now is that I want to express the full extent of my hurting. But I wasn't honest with my friends about how much I cared in the first place, so I don't know how to do that. I'm sure they all figured it out. Anyway, that and other things are holding me back from reaching out without my facade of detachment. I got misty-eyed in front of YJ but other than that, I've been utterly collected and rational for my public.

I don't want this. I don't want to keep viewing emotional expression as bad and weak. I want to own my vulnerability and find the strength in it. There is a lot of power in this place.

Today was confidence-building. I TA'ed in the morning and helped facilitate growth in my members. Art told me that I handled the conflict in the group last week "perfectly." I connected with a lot of friends that I haven't been able to talk to in awhile. Kevin and I met with our couple again in Family Practicum, and it was fucking amazing how much of a transformation has taken place over four sessions. I am trusting myself in many areas of my life, and that was heartening to remember.

So-- instead of adding this experience to the "I am always the weaker and more vulnerable person" pile, I will label it thusly: "I am strong enough to be vulnerable, and to trust that I know what's right."

Jumbled.

You know, this whole time I've been blaming myself for holding back. I've been sure that my instinct was to open up, that my anxiety and fear were getting in the way. Not so. I wanted to open up, but my intuition was telling me not to, that it wasn't safe. I realized this while I was giving Bo the case for not continuing, but YJ helped me internalize it. She actually went further, characterizing me as "more ready" as opposed to less, which seems to be true but is a jarring revelation.

I knew something wasn't right, but I automatically discounted it. Time and time again I'm seeing how trustworthy my instincts are. If only I could believe in them.

The tide's coming in

All I can think of are impressions and moments. MJ smoothing her eggplant-colored shirt with a worried look on her face in preparation for meeting Stacey's mom. Peluche curling up on my feet in my room, hiding from the sound of the vacuum. Bo getting ready for the day. Smiling and nodding while the LCs show me photos of in-jokes and exploits that I'm no longer a part of. Realizing I haven't heard my dad's voice in a few weeks. The way Sun Kil Moon's "Glenn Tipton" so accurately captures the dull ache of nostalgia. Summer air rushing over me on dusky bike rides. Drinking cheap wine on porches and in backyards. Dreams about cradling lady hips in my hands. Afternoons lulled into uneasy solitude.

When I feel something coming, I don't always know what it is. It takes a little while to sort it out. This afternoon brought some clarity. I think I'm on the brink of falling open, of letting everything rush through me like it does sometimes. I feel myself exhausting, crumbling around the edges. The state I think I'm approaching can be likened to standing naked and immobile in the kind of harsh, dry wind that cuts right through your bones. It's like I experience everything all at once, with no filter. My senses become more acute. The emotions and moods of other people become unbearably present and I can't shut them out. It's overwhelming.

I have small moments of this frequently, and they're much more manageable. One really memorable one was on Bo's porch a few weeks ago on a windy night. I listened to the trees and wind chimes swaying and felt it swelling up-- felt myself dissolving into the air, becoming utterly connected and raw. I closed my eyes and let myself go. It was euphoric.

Sometimes I think that this is my natural state, and that I've overcompensated through the years in order to survive. (This is another way to characterize my anxiety, a more personal and spiritual way that feels healthier to me. I should think of it more often.) My mom is vulnerable in a similar way-- so open to the pain and joy of her world that it overwhelms her. And of course she struggles with anxiety as well. We all need filters to survive this life. This might not make sense to a lot of people, but I feel that my mom and I, and many others I've known, are connected with and open to our world in an unusually acute way. I get in this space when I'm so exhausted by trying to hold everything at arm's length that I can't hold anything there.

There's a happy medium, to be sure. But it occurred to me today that I don't need to think of this space as negative. It's scary, overwhelming, and exhausting-- but also beautiful and enlightening and real. I don't have to run from it, and I don't have to characterize my fear of it as anxiety disordered behavior. This is how I am. Simple as that.

Shut up, brain!

The 6th St. training got out early so I have a second to relax before I run off to collect Bo and Michele and my mac n cheese and head to the MFT potluck and the art show. Nobody's home and I feel all giddy, like a little kid in a secret hiding place. I want to fall asleep and not have to deal with anyone for awhile, but I know I'll regret it if I do. I'm blogging to stay awake.

So... I didn't sleep last night. I had a beer and one of those weird sedating/anti-anxiety antihistamines I'm supposed to take as needed, and I still didn't sleep. Also, I've been itchy all day and I'm paranoid that the hives are coming back. It's because my antibiotics are drying out my skin, but I'm anxious anyway, because if there's an opportunity to be anxious I always take it.

And on that note, the unease is creeping up on me again. I feel like I'm behind a screen at all times and can't quite connect with the world around me. This time I'm quite aware of why, just not what to do about it. In the short term, I mean. Since in an ideal world, in which I had the emotional energy to do the following things, I would: come out to my family, confront the anxiety in myself and in my family, find a new therapist, learn to consistently assert my needs, reach out to my friends about the things I have kept hidden, and stop running from emotional attachment. The theme in all this is me putting on a front for other people. Various fronts, really, because people want different things. I'm calm and together for my family. I'm straight and gender-normative for my extended family. I'm agreeable and sexually healthy, among other things, for my friends. Etc. Of course I feel like there's "something" getting in between me and the world; there's a million fucking things.

Maybe I should rename this thing "Anxiety Blog." It's probably been a bummer to read so far. I'm trying to process through all of this instead of burying it, though. In life as well as in this blog. I think I've taken some concrete steps towards better health lately... even writing this stuff publicly is something, y'know?

Went out last night for Jackey's birthday-- everybody was at Duffy's, and there was even decent music for a little while. We all danced together and got super goofy. Also, Brian, who drives the Ecocab, remembers where I live now. So convenient!

Ran into Josh and his mom earlier today while I was at Empire. It wasn't too awkward but it put me into a strange mood, thinking about the past and how quickly everything changes; how little stability there really is in life. Well, seeing them as well as thinking about the MFT potluck tomorrow evening, where I'll be hanging out with people that used to be my closest friends and are now practically acquaintences. So, there's at least three people who I thought would be semi-permanent parts of my life-- and I don't usually allow myself to acknowledge that-- who, well, you get the idea. (That was the first time I've believed that I've found stability and lost it, so bear with me. I know it's not an earth-shattering revelation.)

I've been grappling with this idea for about a year now (accepting, even embracing impermanence, I mean), but it's still fucking rough for me when I encounter something I want to hold onto and the reality of loss stares me in the face. I think that's another reason I am having trouble thinking about graduation. It's clearly one of two driving forces behind my commitment phobia. I know all of the logical reasons why impermanence is not a negative thing. Why it is healthy for me to be working towards embracing it. Blah blah blah. It's getting better. But if I had to identify my main interpersonal struggle at this time in my life, that would be it.

MJ's puppy just peeked through my doorway. Hi!

Going to Yuba City for Easter... so I have three days to come up with a safe explanation for my hair, as well as store up a bunch of energy to act appropriately feminine and heteronormative and well-adjusted. We'll see.

Off to go bake my mac and cheese for tomorrow night. Fucking starving.