who only by moving can balance

A passion fruit is hatching! I did not expect that to happen this soon and honestly I was not holding out enormous hope for it happening at all, so, !!!

My therapist is going to make slightly arch remarks about stubbornness and the desire to grow and the benefits of a supportive environment. And then ask me what I can to do make my own environment more supportive.

So: I've got a big vat of soup cooking up, and some bread gradually getting going. I've been hydrating and taking appropriate drugs and making sure I'm warm enough. I've set the dishwasher and the washing machine going. I've got somebody coming from freecycle to pick up some packing boxes, hopefully. I am gradually doing small tidying, and mostly nesting a bit blearily on the sofa.

And my passionfruit is hatching.

I was a queer teen under section 28. I say I was brought up by the Internet, and what I mean is: the Internet told me that people like me could exist, and exist happily and without judgment, at least some of the time.

And now, after that thoroughly vile FB conversation, I am going to go to Bar Wotever and watch my girlfriend sing cock rock, because I'm an adult now.

(Still from finch's list of 21 prompts.)

I'm... not sure there is, really. I'm generally very open about most things, I think; even the one that springs to mind - that I'm not as cool as I pretend to be, that I'm more insecure than I present as, that I care more than I let on - is, I think, a mixture of, well, rampant impostor syndrome and self-delusion.

Because, well, I do talk about insecurity, though amusingly I wish I could do it better; I'm not pretending to be cool, I am authentically myself and that someone is Actually Pretty Kickass a lot of the time; and I think you know that I care -- about poetry, about music, about fannishness, about my people, about sharing the things I've learned the hard way so some of you can get there along a slightly easier path.

Perhaps what I actually mean is "I don't trust easily". I've talked recently about not really trusting myself, and that being the major block to meditation as a thing itself for me; and it's not that I don't think you're wonderful, don't think you're safe, don't want to trust you. I think it's this: that I am scared to ask for help, still, in ways that aren't structured; that I'm scared to show myself vulnerable and give people the responsibility of taking care of me. I have an absolute horror of making people feel obliged to look after me, and a lot of the time that keeps me from asking at all - but I can't find it very difficult to trust unreservedly without knowing that I'll be safe if I fall to pieces in front of you.

The realisation that I think my counsellor has been pushing me towards for the entire time she's known me? That I like helping people, and making sense of the world for them, because maybe if I do it enough I'll learn to/someone will do it for me. Which - is not the whole story, and is kind of twisted in its way (oh, but tiny child, let me hug you and love you and make you safe--), but is interesting to bring to bear on the matter of why and how I get so much out of this, and how I can get better at it, for others and myself.

-- so I've once again circled back around to trust, of myself and of others; this is something I'm going to have to spend some time working through this year. And it will be hard, and it will take time, but that's okay. I don't have to decipher myself all in one go.

my moisturiser is now scented with black pepper, vanilla and bergamot. I - I have no idea if this was wise BUT WEVS :D

suggestions for scent combination for next bottle welcomed, especially on the back of a postcard ;)


Meanwhile I have nearly finished Lewis Wolpert's Malignant Sadness - the anatomy of depression, and will shortly be diving into Overcoming Depression (on the recommendation of my counsellor).

& I went to a lovely concert tonight with my mother, and I am so delighted I am a horn player, because it meant that when the poor soloist completely flubbed the Weber horn concerto he was playing (on Naturhorn, the brave sod) I could firstly hear the music through the misery, and secondly tell what was wrong with him. The poor lamb spent pretty much the entire piece making the sad mouthshapes that horn players do when their lip is about to give, because of exhaustion or because of anxiety; he very, very obviously had been absolutely fantastic in every single rehearsal, and was feeling awful about the mess he was making of it, but he struggled bravely on and mostly I wanted to give him a hug. (He split easy notes all over the place, and runs were muddy, but all the terrifying sections - the exposed high notes, the fanfares - were spot on. Poor, poor man.) It opened with Bach and closed with Mozart and there was also a fantastic concerto for double bass and viola in the middle. Great fun, apart from collapsing in pain halfway through, but I was nonetheless cheered by the fact that the horn section clearly had fantastic rapport, and one of them had an awesome wheelchair.

• put on some music
  
• finish getting dressed
  
• grab one of the doughnuts from the kitchen and eat it
  
• take morning meds and hit reset on the meds timer (including B vitamins HURRAH)
  
• moisturise hands because they feel gross
  
• finish getting this pint of water down my face
  
• e-mail my mum
  
• write down the phone number of place I probably left my phone yesterday and find a payphone or some shit
  
• return book to library, pay fine
  
• pick up notes for the lectures I slept through
  
• make a GP appt

... which all sounds rather beyond me today, honestly, but at least I can make lists? And maybe it's helpful for some of you to see that I make this kind of list for myself, because I think mostly I present as very high-functioning and competent? I'm not sure. In any case, from that point of view, I'd like to point out that neither "showering" nor "brushing my hair" are on that list for today. This shit is hard, you guys, and that's... really no fun at all