today i read

it is the day where we talk about mental health, and i am not sure i want to talk about it, i am having a lot of thoughts about it, and i don't want to engage any of them right this minute. so. other people can talk. this is good, sad, helpful, true (sorry so tiny, click it, click it):

{sarah nicole pricket}

* snp tumblr ask january fifth

that is all.

ff

i go to a small house party in glasgow with my friend and some of her uni pals. they're theatre types, big personalities, fun, warm, welcoming, a real pleasure to be around. also at the party thee is a collection of young men friends-of-the-flat-inhabitants. not classmates of my friend. these boys are friendly too. easy to talk to. it is nice. it would be nice

except. each and every one of those boys makes a joke about rohypnol. as in: drugging me or someone else in this house so that i or we could be raped. you know.
rape jokes.
haha.
every one of them. separately. (and together.) to me. a girl who has never met them before. in a city i am visiting, in a house i don't know at all. some of them come back to the rohypnol-theme a few times. even after i say, as laughingly but firmly as i can muster, that i am not a fan of rape jokes, actually, and maybe they could find something else to joke about?

now.
i wasn't really scared of these boys. i didn't think any of them were gonna rape me or anyone there. not really. i mean. probably not! maybe not. almost certainly not.

but i couldn't know. you can never know.
girls talk often about how many times they've asked themselves 'is this my rape? will this be my rape?'. when we are in elevators or cabs, when the mood in a room turns, when arguing with a drunk friend, a drunk stranger, a big man, an angry man, a group of men, in hallways, bedrooms, bathrooms, alleys, parks, cars...

these boys poured and brought me drinks - sparkling wine for a communal bottle. adult-house-party stuff. tame mid-week gathering of grown-ups stuff. at one point it was obvious that three of these boys were talking about me, whispering to each other, staring at me across the kitchen. i called them out, playfully, not aggressively, not like i maybe would've like to... they laughed about it, made a joke about having been caught-out. followed up with another rape joke. like a playful wink. like a nudge. almost for sure not a threat.
haha.

i didn't drink anything they gave me. and i didn't like any of them at all.

except for the rape jokes they were funny/witty/interesting men. i would've liked them all. i wanted to like them all. i wanted to enjoy myself at this party in glasgow.

but instead i had a knot of anger in my gut, and a voice in my head that said 'don't get comfortable, just in case, be ready to be scared, be ready, have the fear ready, be on guard, just in case, just in case'. and i didn't drink anything they gave me. and i didn't like any of them at all.

sads chats

bring on the trumpets!

it's let's talk day, the day where we talk about mental illness! (i was proof-reading this, just now, and had written 'metal illness', which is also a real thing, like lead poisoning, but is NOT what we talk about today. get your own day, metal illness! carry on.) i wrote a something about it two years back. and i've written about depression and anxiety on this here blorg many times in many ways, and with much repetition, i'm sure. i could write and write about what all it feels like, the dusty-chalk feels, the endless expanse feels, the even-more-endless expanse where the feels should be but aren't. but i don't feel(s) like it, ha ha, so i'm gonna link to some of my FAVOURITEST THINGS! that have helped me here and there when i have needed the helping.

 {by allie brosh by way of hyperbole and a half}

* depression part two by allie brosh aka hyperbole and a half

this. piece. is. devastating. and so beautiful and so true and so hard. and also so funny and so blunt.
(depression part one/adventures in depression is great too. but when it came out those of us who suffer the depressions all went 'ooohhhh no... thiiiisss is no gooood... oh no this is where it only just begins! you think you are in the depressions, and you think "hooray finally no more feels, at least" but actually you have only just breached the surface, oh no... i'm sorry. there's so much more.')
(if you haven't already read ALL HER STUFF you should, maybe even in book form?! i have her book right next to my bed and when i am THE WORST at bedtime i read some and oh, it is so great.)

* also consider listening to her interview with terry gross for fresh air

it is hard, too. some of it. but so good. terry gross has just the best way of being unassuming while getting so much out of her guests. yes good.

* the insanely brilliant strategy of the SMALL THINGS! by jennifer p at captain awkward

all. the. hoorays. i can't tell you what a difference it has made. the breakdown is: depression makes doing anything at all so fucking hard, and not doing anything at all makes you feel like a more broken, more garbage, more totally-colossally shit person. which, you can imagine, isn't great for getting to an okay place. but small jobs help. tiny to-do lists help. they meet halfway between being easy on yourself cuz you're sick goddamn, and also accomplishing a thing! feeling like a maybe real human being.

* DIY keep your shit together by rosalind robertson aka the DIY couturier

and thank god, because i try hard not to go apeshitbananas when i read those 'secret habits of happy people' that are often boiled down to 'be positive and HAPPY and you will be GREAT!!' which is a) not a secret b) NOT A THING or at least not a thing when things make it so you aren't happy. whether that thing is depression or your house burned down or some other thing that might make it hard to just POSITIVE YOUR WAY THROUGH IT *adorable loving punch in the shoulder* you'll get 'em next time! full disclosure, i was a friggin annoying as hell optimist for a looong time who really did think that in the end i'd just positive it all and wrap it up in a bow, and wow look at me go! and i don't hate all positive thinking or people who use it. i use it sometimes too. but i hate the condescension that often holds hands with the positive. the big smiley face that tilts its head and blinks blankly saying 'well you maybe are doing it wrong, or perhaps you just don't want it? i don't know! i can't imagine why it just won't WORK if you're really WORKING it... ... .. .'

{more hyperbole and a half, duh}

because the moral: depression and anxiety, they are real things in the world that are real and hard and shitty and whatever and if i am not well it is not because i don't want to be. it is not because i'm lazy or pessimistic or dumb or broken. it just is.

lastly! i read the belljar this year, and thank goodness because i sorta felt like i had a great secret-shame in the depressive/fashioning/feminist world for not having read it... and you should think about reading it too, if you haven't. it is not fun, but it is lovely and so much more. the belljar: of course. the belljar and all its foul air.

also. after-lastly... let's dance.

dust in the spotlight

{from my tumblr, but really from here}

 

i want so much to tell you not to die. i know it is a useless and mostly meaningless thing to say. but i'd like to say it all the same.

i am sure you have people who actually know you, who are there, who are telling you not to die. and i know that even those people can barely create a pull, really, when the sinking begins. and i am only a girl on the internet.

i do not understand suicide. but i do understand that my lack of understanding is largely luck. my moods have not got that far in. not yet. hopefully, maybe, they never will. but also one of the many medications i take or will take might maybe tick just so. and that side effect they tell you might maybe happen will happen. i understand that my not understanding is a fragile thing. i am susceptible to that side effect, of course, too. if the nauseous and the fatigue and the headaches and the reflux and the trouble swallowing and the fitful sleeping that leads to foggy, unfocused days... if those, then the others, too, are possible.

so i understand that telling you not to die is not helpful. asking that you not die is unkind. i can feel people wanting to ask me not to die, and i want so much to promise them forever and ever i won't. i want to laugh at the absurdity of the thought because it is, for me, so far, a completely absurd one. hopefully forever and ever.

(and now, in the weeks since i wrote this, you have seemed so good. so safe and so fine. in the way that you may never be entirely fine but you are fine for now fine. and it doesn't seem so pressing that i tell you not to die. but really i don't know a single thing.)

slow show

i am absolutely anxiety-hearted today. every single thought is sitting on the surface of my skin.
all panic and pins.

obsessed with succulents and dust

 {stolen from my own tumblr, aka stolen from somewhere a million times over}

i am a million miles away. that is always running through my head.

i used to always feel like a girl with her arms outstretched and reaching, everything slipping off the ends of her fingers. like i was perpetually on the edge of having a grip, but then never actually getting it. like i was so close. dropping all the things. and it was an awful feeling. being that close, but still not. constantly, frantically, straining.

and now i am a girl who is so far away from that, it doesn't seem like it was ever even a thing. and i'm not sure that it is better. i am sure that it is more reckless... but. it is different. at least. it is quieter and more still. somehow.

tomorrow you'll be worlds away

dearest future me:

soon you will have a day when you are feeling so many feelings. the nighttimesads and the anxietyattacks (or as aleena heard, the unsexyattacks). and when you do. remember today. remember how today is one of many practically perfect days. how you have a magical body that does magical strong things thanks to jenn, and how your friends are basically unicorns come to life and covered in sparkles, and how you probably couldn't dream up a better life than the one you are living. not really. if you're being honest about it. hold on to today.

xoxo
ek. (from now. the past. or something.)

neither you nor i

things are very good in toronto. i am feeling very good and glad. but also i am very much missing home right now. and the people who are it. my magical family. i am nervous at the possibility of christmas without emma & charlie. i don't even know what that would look like. i am sad that declan is getting so big. i hope he won't be as shy as me, and that he'll always be warm to his aunt erin. i am grateful to have love so big that it hurts.

tonight i'll be roasting pumpkin seeds. and sleeping in flannel sheets (even though it is not cold enough here, and i have to leave the window open so i don't roast myself). my heart will be in the prairies, driving from farm to farm with gerry, collecting candy and drinks.

{my prairie nephew in the prairie light}

they don't love you like i love you

oh goodness me all of the things that get deep under my skin and into my heart and make me a little sick and dizzy. why do good wonderful beautiful clothes make me so deeply sad? ache ache ache for all time. right up high in my throat and in the tops of my thighs. numbness in my shoulders. like certain songs (maps, in california, stacks...). like birch trees.

{honor spring 2013, photos by marcus tondo at gorunway.com by way of style.com}

saved my life.

david rakoff.

this week's 'this american life' is entirely him. in his memory.

take a listen. it is a wonderful thing. he was a wonderful thing. he was canadian! it is so sad to have lost him.

he talks about the facade. the ability to joke. to cover a deep melancholy and loneliness. wit. and so much more. he was an amazing storyteller. and he burns RENT. which. is exactly what everyone should do. haha! amazing!

and his performance at this year's TAL live was my very favourite thing. i cried when i first saw it. and then cried again, harder, when it was replayed on the podcast. here it is. it is a type of magic i can't begin to explain.



thank you, david, for everything.

happy monday friends.

all about e

i've thought a lot about how much of myself to put into this blorg-thing. how personal to get. part of me is always cautioning (in the voice of my mother...) to be careful. but then i am always a little too careful. a little too anxious. by nature. and being unashamed and a little over dramatic helps me remember that these feeelings that i am constantly feeeeling are not to be taken too seriously. which is all to say that this post will be about me and feelings and things that are maybe private. so. if you're here just for the fashion, feel free to skip over all of these words.

i hired a matchmaker. to make me a match.

the part of me that worries what the 'world' thinks is embarrassed. but most of me is just excited. because this city is big and hard and expensive and i love it so much, but it is big and hard and expensive. and my friends' friends are lovely, i'm sure, but wrong. and online is this sad space where most of my time is spent weeding through the worst of the worst trying to find the better and best... emma says i should write a something about eharmony titled 'overweight christians with bad grammer'. i try to be open minded. but i cannot ever imagine myself with someone in their late 20's or ealry 30's who doesn't know that 'alot' is in fact two words. and thinks that a woman who drinks scotch is an alcoholic. (yes. this is an eharmony question... 'what do you think of a woman who drinks scotch?' and a tragic amount of men think she must have an unhealthy relationship with the booze because no woman ever could just enjoy scotch, am i right?!) yes. i am a snob. but isn't it better to know that and be honest than to pretend i'm not? (or maybe i should stop thinking that wanting a high-functioning feminst-ish man is snobby. anyways.)

and then there are the okcupid types who like to say things like 'what up babe?' or 'hey sweet-cheeks!' and then insult my glasses. because negging is the best way. always. of course.

and i am not saying that they are all like that. just. a lot. (alot.) and it isn't fun. this sifting and sighing through, wondering how i am having to do this.

so. a new and exciting thing! a matchmaker. we have met. and she is sweet and funny and open and kind. i liked her right away on the phone, and just as much in person. and i am bubbly and eager again! nervous and smiling. and excited.

when we met and talked about what i wanted, she chastised me gently for being too open. (which seems funny to me knowing how judgmental i can be.) i explained that i have dated/loved men of many types and found them to be wonderful, so how could i possibly say 'only tall' or 'only slim' or 'only...' anything? education doesn't actually matter if they're smart and curious and eager... age doesn't actually matter if they're present and grounded... blah blah. the point. to all of this. is that i did get to thinking about what i want. but. not really from them. these potential matches. i mean. i made a list. but it is really all about me. and who i'd like to be in this ideal partnership. you can figure out what i mean. i suspect. so. here. is what i am thinking:

* i want you to want to spend your life with me because i am exciting.
* i do not want to get watered down.
* i want you to somehow, magically, draw me out and get me to really talk.
* i want to go on vacations where we lay around sweaty, drinking coffee and reading and smoking - even though we are not smokers - because it is romantic.
* i want you to take pictures of me until i am not self-conscious and until i look like actually-me.
* i want you to understand anxiety - that it is meaningless and all-encompassing.

and some more things, too, surely. but for now.
i haven't given this to my matchmaker. but if she does her internet research, she'll find it. (ha! HI!)

and now. i am going to go for drinks and have fun and not have any of this on my mind and just meet some humans.

somewhere i know there's something

preen's resort presentation is the stuff that fashion and dreams are made of. the stuff that breaks me down inside and leaves me shaky and crying because beauty and space and light...

it's funny. i read so many books on fashion and beauty in grad school. but i can't to save my life come up with the right words for why the third image - that grey sweater - makes me shudder. i wish i could. maybe it is because i can't think of ways to talk about it that i can't think of ways to make art about it... maybe that is why i can't pin down an idea worth making a painting about...

so. looking. instead. somewhat heavy-hearted. and yet. so joyful...

{preen resort 2013, photos courtesy of preen by way of style.com}

ff (mini)

{borrowed from design crush - which is really rocking my world lately}

i want to note, first of all, that i don't feel that my father is an uninspired man! for the record! and, you know. a few other things in there. maybe not so me.

but. the anxiety, the plans, the final line. yup. yup yup...

in artschool my favourite 'artisty' word was ache. now it is anxiety. when the aching grows up a bit, i guess.

don't you worry about me... i'm a grown up...

jeff and i watched cassavetes' 'a woman under the influence' over two days this week. (it took us two days because i am an old person now and i flipped out a bit when i realized it was after 11pm and we still had 45 minutes left... nay! sleeps!)

i really liked this film. i'm not sure i could say i enjoyed it... there's an awful lot of heart-hurt in it, and i'm not sure exactly how i feel coming out the other end. i read somewhere it was supposed to be a more positive look at mental illness than was prevelant on screen at the time. to me it wasn't so much positive as tragically unresolved. there's a lot of love in the film, sure. but also a wild-ton of dysfunction, and all the characters seem to be rather ill, not just the mother-wife who is the focus. and nothing changes. i was left feeling like if you kept watching, you would see the same cycle of breakdown and buildup and plateau over and over and over. and maybe that's what cassevetes was after...

but it was good. and sometimes even beautiful. maybe.

* oh yeah! also. there is the use of the swan lake theme in a few key scenes, which made me think about 'black swan' and how this - a.w.u.t.i. - was such a better picture of a woman struggling with insanity... interesting. i bet you could write a solid comparative essay. *

be a chatty cathy

today is talk about depression day!!! which i think is so brilliant and so great and i just wanna hug clara hughes for putting her lovely face all over this thang.

i wanted to add my two cents to the conversation. because i agree that it's crazy the degree to which depression and mental health issues are stigmatized. even though i have probably the greatest most fantastically supportive families there is, i struggled with admitting that i was anxious at a completely unhealthy level and depressed for the better part of two years. it is just so hard to take your feelings and put them into the same space you put that giant gash on your foot. but now that i have started approaching my anxiety as a health issue rather than an emotional issue, dealing is just so much more unbelievably easy. i communicate with myself like i would any other physical problem.

my head hurts. why? not enough water? too much reading on a computer screen? too much laughing at videos of kittens? talking to an annoying human? okay! i can figure out how to deal with and treat each of those scenarios.

my heart is racing and i feel like the world might end. why? too much caffeine? not enough sleep? just watched a tv show with a lot of triggering high-anxiety scenes? (i'm looking at you, breaking bad...) okay! i can calm down. i can rationalize.

plus there's that helpful friend, prescription medication. balancing and balancing. not for everyone, i'm sure. but i'm happy with mine. (it took a little more than a month to settle into the meds, and that was an occasionally frustrating time. worth it.)

a friend on facebook recently posted a status about her depressive tendencies, and how she is finally able to understand that she doesn't have a 'problem', she has a chemical imbalance. and how helpful that understanding is day to day. i feel the same way. realizing that a) the way i've been feeling really isn't the way that everyone goes about feeling, and that b) that doesn't mean that i am failing at being a human. no one would think they were failing at being a human if they had a broken rib. (unless they broke that rib doing something stupid... like. ummm. street-luge.)

finally, i just want to say as clearly as i can:
there is a big difference between being sad and being depressed.
there is a big difference between being stressed and having an anxiety disorder.
it took me way too long to realize that, and i wish i had earlier and dealt with my situation sooner rather than believing it would go away when life got a bit better... when life calmed down. and i think, too, that i knew that all along. and maybe by 'us' talking about this a bit more, someone else out there who's in that same situation will get help a bit faster. and that would be great.

meanwhile. if you're feeling a bit low. this might help you cheer up at least for a minute!

and share your story, if you have one. send out questions or concerns. it's all cool, my darling lovely readers!