On How To Practice Selfcare (Things I Didn't Learn In The Bubble, episode two)

Or, "find little things that make you feel human and cling to them".

The last post I did got me thinking about things. This always happens, and 90% of the time I don't go anywhere with that because... well, as you can all see, my attention span sucks. But I've been stuck on things that probably should've been in that post, and one of the most important ones is selfcare. Bby!me really did not know what selfcare was. For those of you who aren't active in certain online communities... my understanding of it is that selfcare is little things one needs to do to keep fighting. The important word there is little. It's not supposed to be big or dramatic, and finding good methods is a very individual process, but for people coming out of bad situations, it can be everything. So, because apparently I'm into list posts this month, here are a few of my selfcare essentials:

• Bath bombs. Srsly. They're amazing. Probably the priciest thing I'll suggest here - on average, about seven dollars for a single-use thing the size of a baseball - but so, so worth using once a month or so. You can get them on Etsy or elsewhere online in almost every scent imaginable (though I still have yet to find somewhere that has a black orchid one, sigh) and they also make your skin wonderfully squishy for a day or two afterwards and it is amazing.
• Raspberry tea. Or tea in general, because there's something about that process that's inherently calming, but I've read in various places that raspberry is like a natural reset button for uteruses soooo. It works, I swear. (Especially with lots of milk and sugar, but maybe that's just me.)
• Lavender and peppermint scented anything. Maybe not together, I dunno if I've found that combination in anything, but both of those are calming and wonderful. Also I think I read somewhere that the scent of peppermint helps make headaches go away, so that's awesome too.
• A TV show you identify with. This is where I veer a little away from your normal self-care posts because... well, this is a thing for me. I process my life through fictional characters, and that can be really helpful. Some advice - don't go looking too hard, stuff will find you and not the other way around. Or ask a few people you trust if there are any characters you remind them of and go from there. That can be fun. (Of course, depending on your people, they could well tell you things you already know. Which... is not something I'm entirely over and not something I am allowed to post about for another three weeks because Reasons.)
• A TV show you totally don't identify with. Because sometimes the point of selfcare is to distract from your problems, and I am convinced that is why trashy teen dramas were originally created, and that is all I am going to say on the matter.
• A pet who likes attention. In my case, my cat. You look at her for more than two seconds and she'll roll over and give you this "pet me. NOW." look and nobody can resist it. Believe me, I've tried. It's impossible. Affectionate unconditional furry creatures make life so much better.

Song of the day - "Forget", Marina and The Diamonds.

On Things I Would Tell My Seventeen-Year-Old Self

Or, "this is not the path I expected my life to take but I'm finally getting to the point where the journey looks absolutely beautiful in hindsight".

It hit me this morning, as I was driving my little sister to work (all important realizations happen in my car), that my story is actually pretty awesome. Six months ago, I would not have been able to say that, but I guess I'm starting to realize that everything I've been through has made me a pretty amazing person. This whole self-confidence thing is still new and vaguely terrifying, but what gets me is that where I am right now is completely different from where I thought I'd be at this point in my life four years ago. It's also different from where everyone else thought it would be, and... honestly, it's a good place. Not quite my ideal scenario, but it's still beautiful.

That being said, there are a few things I would tell my seventeen-year-old self that would've made a lot of this so much easier. Most of them are very specific to situations I was in this time four years ago; some, however, are general life advice for the teenage girls who may or may not be reading this blog (and I know at least one of my sister's friends at least occasionally looks at this calamity so it's not a total waste of my time to write this up). You guys can figure out what's what. Here goes:

• That boy you think you love is going to betray you in a way you never thought possible because you don't yet know that mixed-gender friendships are even biologically possible. He is not in love with you, nor will he ever be. You are his quiet rebellion, nothing more, and the day you realize that will be one of the most painful days of your life. There is no way to brace for this sort of pain; you just need to fight through it.
• You are a SURVIVOR. These wars you fight with the world and yourself will only make you stronger. One day you will look back and understand the meanings of your scars.
• The darkness you feel sometimes has a name. You're going to get help for it after the first time you nearly let it take you. Eventually, sweet one, it's going to end completely for reasons that you won't understand at the time (and maybe you never will). You're still in for a very long three years, but you'll get through it.
• College is not your path. You already know this, but you're being good because it's what's expected of you and it's going to take missing finals week the spring of your second year because you're recovering from three days in a psych ward before anyone else agrees with you on this. That's going to be a turning point for you, and even your dad won't fight it too much.
• Speaking of which, as much as you hate him right now, you're going to end up having a better relationship with him than your mother. Maybe he's not a better person in the grand scheme of things, but he's very upfront. He doesn't manipulate people. Your mother... is probably not aware of all that she does, but that doesn't stop her from doing it. You'll learn to work around this.
• In general, working around problems is better than trying to solve them. At least when those problems are of the human variety. Humans cannot be fixed no matter how much you wish otherwise.
• You're going to realize that you think girls are pretty too, in a different way than boys are but still a significant way, and that's not going to be anywhere near as much of a battle as you initially think. Your little puppy crushes on girls are never going to be acted on, not like the things you feel for boys, but they're still a part of you. Attraction is what it is. Your Person is still probably a guy, but thinking that girl at work is really cute is still okay.
• You're going to get out of the Bubble. You're going to find the strength to assert yourself and put distance where it's needed and you're going to blossom so much once those people are not in your life on the regular.
• Despite what certain people say, you will not be the first girl of your era to get married. You will stand and watch as half of your era finds love in places you do not understand, you will be completely neutral on all of those situations, and life will go on. People will be cruel to you about your involuntary lone-wolf status, but you'll learn how to deal with them without causing a scene. You're the better person in those situations. You'll be okay.
• How neutral you are, however, will not affect the fact that you will still cry at some point during every wedding you attend. And there are going to be a lot of weddings.
• You already know that you will not get your first kiss by age eighteen. You will definitely not check off all of your physical firsts by twenty-one. You will learn to be... maybe not okay with that, but understanding of the fact that what lies ahead of you will make all of this awful waiting make sense.
• You're going to flutter for a lot more people. For a while, your type will remain "emotional range of a cactus and uses you for advice on wooing emotionally manipulative blonde pixies". Then it'll turn to "guys with sweet girlfriends who you usually know". Then... well, it's anyone's guess where the journey will lead from there, but despite the number of times you get your heart broken by boys who never even wanted you, you'll still have hope that your Person is out there somewhere.
• You're not what anyone wants you to be, but that's their loss.
• You're going to see elements of your story reflected in places you never would've expected and it's going to break your heart, but you're going to use that to get out. You are every bit as amazing as the fictional ladies you will cling to because real-life role models are impossible for you. Their stories will give you strength to keep writing yours.
• Someday the sappy love songs won't hurt. This will happen before you have someone in your life who gives them meaning. It's weird, but it's also really awesome.
• Domesticity isn't the horror story you think it is now. You're going to change your mind about eventual marriage and tiny humans and it's going to have nothing to do with your background and everything to do with your blossoming sense of self.
• Your awkward phase is going to die a dramatic death on New Year's Eve when you get bored and shave your head. That's another turning point, another new beginning.
• You are a SURVIVOR. Those four words need to be repeated over and over and over because they are so true. You are a SURVIVOR and all of the bad things that have happened to you, all of the bad things that will happen to you, will only make you that much stronger. You are a phoenix; rise and rise again from your ashes, each time that much more glorious.

Song of the day - "This Is What Makes Us Girls", Lana Del Rey.

On Redefining Myself

Or, "right now I'm doing things for ME... and that's okay".

Coming out of a depressive spiral is the weirdest thing. I've already posted a lot about that, but I'm not sure how to write about the last month or so because I'm not sure how it happened. There was no great reason for the fact that one morning I woke up and didn't feel the familiar crushing weight of the last eight years. It just... happened, and while that's obviously one of the best things that's ever happened to me, it does present a few problems. Like, who exactly am I now and how do I go about becoming the woman I want to be??

I guess it doesn't help that I was an awkward thirteen-year-old when the spiral started. I hadn't had time to figure out who I was before the dark clouds took my life. And now here I am, twenty-one and totally unsure of my identity and I hate being unsure of things. I like knowing where I stand in situations. It's why attraction is a weird concept for me (and we'll get to that later in this post, unfortunately that's decided to be a problem for me again) and why being around volatile people is bad for me. And why I'm now in this very weird place that, for the life of me, I cannot find any solutions to.

Thing is, I know who I want to be someday. That's progress. I have an end goal... which, because a lot of it rests on things I have absolutely no control over, will probably take years to happen. It's the waiting that kills me, the disaster of not knowing who I need to be in the meantime. If things play in my favor, I'm pretty sure of who I'll need to be in five years. Right now, on the other hand?? Not a clue.

There are good things about this place I'm in, though. One of the best ones is that at this point in my life, my great priority is myself. In the future, when I find my Person and we (hopefully) have tiny humans, that won't be an option. From what little experience I've had, the way I love is very sacrificial, and I will drop everything when given reason enough. I don't think my darling is going to know what hit them, honestly. So maybe it's good that I have this blank time, because I can do silly things for me and it's okay. I can be interested in fashion and makeup and spend a little too much money on those things now and it's okay. I'm doing it for me, because while my confidence is definitely internal, I want to be pretty. I want to be noticed and remembered. And right now, it's okay.

If anything, the fashion thing is freeing for me. I've never had any huge insecurities about my body - a miracle considering that one of the soundtracks of my teenage years was my mother's epic series of well-intentioned but doomed-from-the-start "diets" - but I definitely did not think of myself as attractive until recently. Call it a side-effect of growing up around a lot of traditionally pretty blonde chicks (and living with one, gah). I have a perfect hourglass shape and that did not register with me at all until like six months ago. Add in the fact that I'm normally very low-maintenance and... really, the fact that I'm consciously trying to develop a Look is a bit surprising. But it's happening, slowly, and I'm liking the results. After some brainstorming with one of my friends, who is very supportive of this project, I decided on "postapoc warrior fairy princess" as what I'm aiming for. It's a bit weird on paper; in reality, it's a lot of layers and neutral // earth colors and pretty basic pieces. More importantly, it reflects who I'm trying to be. I'm sick of invisibility. I want to be remembered, and this is a step forward.

I mentioned attraction a little earlier as part of this current whatever-this-is, and... yeah, that kinda happened. I'm fluttery for about the first time in a year, and without saying too much (because this hit three days ago and I am panicking and also the other person barely knows I exist soooo), it's very different from the other times I've fluttered. I don't know this one all that well - we've known each other in passing for years, as people do in small communities and smaller social circles, but I am 95% sure we've never actually talked - but I have hope. This one, from what little I know about them, is everything my little heart has ever longed for. And, more importantly at the moment, this one is getting handled differently. In the past, I've been too assertive with my affections - which was just as well, got the heartbreaks over with that much quicker, but it's still something that apparently intimidates most guys. This time, I'm trying not to go there. Getting on radar is one thing, and a few initiations are possible, but I have no expectations and no plans. There's definitely the part of my brain that kicks in at times like this and says that guys like that never notice girls like me, but exceptions happen. Human beings don't always follow the usual script. A girl can hope, and I am letting myself have this too because even if nothing comes of it, even if I am invisible once again, I am letting my heart run where it will and following my instincts where they lead me. And it's okay.

Song of the day - "Shine", Vienna Teng.

On Talking To The Void

Or, "writing letters to someone I know nothing about is a useful coping mech".

I know my Person is out there. They have to be. I was talking to my dear friend Olivia about this about a week ago and she said that she's thought about it a lot too and figures that some people are just meant to be with someone, period. (Olivia, for the record, has been with her boyfriend for nine months and they're pretty sure they're each other's Person and other than the fact that I randomly decided to refer to him as Penguin, I'm pretty sure he's the best thing that's ever happened to her.) It's reassuring, that certainty. At least I have something, y'know?

One of the weirder things I've read on various lists of things for Good Christian Girls to do while they wait for their Prince Charming (those of y'all who've seen such lists know I'm not exaggerating) is to write letters to one's future Person. When I was a little bug who did not believe in love (why that changed is another post), I thought that was the most ridiculous idea ever. Yes, even worse than hope chests, and don't get me started on that. (Thus says the girl who's never dated anyone and yet has her wedding dress already. I have such fun inconsistencies.) Now that I'm older and in the stage of desperately waiting for my blossoming to happen... it's actually awesome.

I'm doing a lot of things for my future Person, which is hilarious considering I don't exactly expect them to show up anytime soon. I'm working on the Beekeeper Quilt nightmare, which remains nowhere near done but I'm trying and maybe it'll be done in four years (I am realistic). I have a nice collection of clearance-rack lingerie, which I admittedly do wear on days I need a confidence boost but honestly no one's going to see it on me for a darn long time. And then there's the journal. The Journal. Ohhhhdear.

I'm not sure why I actually started that project. The journal itself was an impulse purchase of the "things that come home with me when I get stuck on a long Walmart trip with my mother" variety. (Normally that category is occupied by eyeshadow and hairbands and holiday novelties.) I've attempted journaling for myself at so many points starting when I was a tiny and... honestly, I suck at it. I get bored. I generally drop particular journals after something bad happens, and then a little while later I get it into my head that I actually want to do this again and acquire a new one and the cycle repeats. I know I do this. And maybe part of me thought this would happen with The Journal. Part of me wonders if it will, at some point, when my current delusions of preparing for my ascendance are dashed by one more terrible broken heart. But a stronger part of me is pretty sure it won't, because this project isn't for me.

This project is for someone I know basically nothing about. I mean, my Person is most likely male (sexual fluidity nightmare being what it is, unless something major shifts, that's the way those attractions actually go) and most likely older than me. They're hopefully quite a bit different than me and hopefully not the sort of person who spends too much of their spare time wondering about their future Person, because one of us does need to be functional, and if they do have the same cute-but-not-actually-helpful coping mech that's getting me through the uncertainty of waiting, I kinda doubt they're envisioning anything like me. (I'm no one's ideal, I know this, and that is not a desperate plea for petty compliments.) I know that they're loyal and good - they have to be, I won't tolerate anything less - and... that's about it. The stuff that I'll notice first, the stuff I'll fall in love with, I'll discover when it happens. And I'm trying to be okay with that, but I really hate uncertainty. I like knowing things. The fact that the defining relationship of my life is currently a complete unknown is... not good for me.

And maybe that's why The Journal helps, because it's giving me an outlet for my wonderings. I'm writing little love letters to someone who won't see them for years, but I'm also revealing little pieces of myself, things I may not remember to tell them but that still matter. It feeds the uncertainty, yes, but it makes the dark unknown feel welcoming. I am embracing it before I know what it is. I am falling in love with someone I haven't met yet. I am doing what needs to be done for me and, at the same time, doing what needs to be done for them.

I have no delusions of everything suddenly being okay when I find my Person. Most of y'all reading this have met my parents; believe me, that idea got shot in the foot before it had a chance. But I do know that it's going to be magnificent. And when the time comes, I will have a whole lot of stories waiting to tell them.

Song of the day - "When You Sleep", Mary Lambert.

On Liking Things (Things I Didn't Learn In The Bubble, episode one)

Or, "sometimes it's okay to let things in".

A couple of months ago, I did this post on being too jaded for my own good (okay, it was also about how snow brings out the worst in everyone, but there was that element too). While that statement is still accurate, I'm realizing that maybe it isn't as accurate as it used to be. I still expect the worst out of people, but there are a whole lot of lovely things in my life that don't involve direct human contact. And then I got to thinking that it might be cool to do a series of connected posts that don't involve me overanalyzing an underrated TV show, and thus "Things I Didn't Learn In The Bubble" was born. I'm not totally sure what I'm going to do with it, but there are some very important life lessons that I didn't learn until I started spreading my wings and this could be a good chance for me to work through it.

Today's installment - it's okay to like things.

I know, this should be instinctive. To someone who has a more normal background, it probably is. For me, it was a realization that has taken place over several years and finally, finally I am accepting it. (2015 is turning into the year of me accepting things and I love it.) And, strangely, this has happened because of a cute little radio earworm. If by some chance you have not heard the absolute wonder that is "Uptown Funk", please go here and watch the vid (which is pretty awesome and that from the perspective of someone who normally doesn't like music videos that don't involve a certain redheaded goddess, but that is another rabbit trail). You can open it in another tab and go on with whatever else you're doing - trust me, you only need to listen to it once, it will be stuck in your head for at least a week. Consider yourself warned.

So what does a catchy dancey pop song have to do with a major personal realization, you ask? Simple - because it's the latest example of me trying not to like things for no particular reason.

One of the main principles of the community I grew up in is that normal = bad. This has manifested in a lot of ways and I have neither time nor energy to list all of them, but the main way involved media consumption. (Admittedly, certain people have calmed down a lot since I was a tiny, but the general awfulness is still there.) If it was not Explicitly Christian, it was bad. Period. On paper, not such a bad idea... until you remember that there are impressionable tinies and catty middle-aged women involved and my mother routinely got called a bad parent because she let my siblings and I watch Disney movies. (Conversely, nobody batted an eyelash when my then-six-year-old sister could fluently quote LOTR despite the fact that she had nightmares about Gollum in our closet for years. Double standards, thy name is modern evangelical Christianity.) After that snafu, my family in particular practiced a duplicity that, while obviously not an ideal scenario for any parties involved, at least kept reputations intact. Mostly.

Unfortunately, this all occurred during the glory days of crime shows in the early/mid-2000s. My dad has never held to the same strict media standards (see also - how then-six-year-old sister ended up watching a certain trilogy in the first place), and for a couple of years, he loved CSI. Now, had anyone we knew at the time ever found out about this, there would've been canaries. Same went for the absolute glory that was Alias, which in hindsight was the first TV show I ever got attached to. Was it appropriate viewing for a ten-year-old? Your mileage may vary, but it didn't screw me up in any notable ways so not exactly a disaster there. Did it contribute to my total inability to talk media with anyone in a face-to-face setting? Yes.

Then my freshman year of high school happened. That's one of the years that a lot of my various issues and tendencies trace back to, and with good reason. First, it was the year I was allowed to read what I wanted because my mother was preoccupied with other stuff and couldn't be bothered to check everything. Now, being as socially inept as I was during those years, I basically inhaled books. This also happened in late 2007, around the beginning of YA futuristics being a Major Thing. Thankfully, by now I had learned to keep my trap shut. Reading what I wanted was all well and good, but telling anyone about it? Nah. My suicidal inclinations still had a few years of development left. I behaved.

Music also became a part of the problem in the same year. Previously, my auditory delights had been limited to the genres of classical, Christian, and jazz (don't ask). That door wasn't consciously opened, but I still remember the first "normal" album I bought - How To Save A Life by The Fray. Seven years later, I still like that album, so it was a good call on my end. (Maybe not the most normal choice for a fourteen-year-old girl, but the title song was all too relevant following the death of my birthmom and I was a morbid little creature and I swear it made sense at the time.) Music, I didn't need to be told not to talk about. I could listen to what I wanted and use it as inspo for my little stories, but God help me if anyone from our homeschool group found out!!

For years, the duplicity continued. I liked things, but I liked them quietly. There were a few exceptions - my high school graduation, for instance, for which I picked Florence + The Machine's "Dog Days Are Over" as my slideshow song (had I known they would cut it at the two-minute mark, I actually would've done something even more out-there) - but it was my double life. When I got into TV again a few years ago, that too remained something I didn't talk about, not even the shows that have heavily impacted me for the better. But lately, I've gotten really sick of that.

I am allowed to like things, dammit. I am allowed to be amused by things that don't have a lasting impact. I am allowed to sing along at the top of my lungs to a harmless dancey radio song for no reason other than that because I like it. There's nothing wrong with me. I know that some of what I like has problematic elements (and I hate that phrase but I can't think of a better one), but I'm careful. I know what affects me and I'm careful with that stuff. But mostly... I'm okay. I'm immune. I'm allowed to have fun.

And hey, if my version of fun involves rolling the functional window down on my car and feeling on top of the world for a few minutes, I don't think I'm doing all that badly.

Song of the day - "Uptown Funk (featuring Bruno Mars)", Mark Ronson.