Living As All of Me

[HannahOne]

I just stumbled on an Alanis Morissette duet with Brandi Carlile.

Flashback. I could feel myself in the late 90s, Y2K I was so full of myself, stomping around graduate school, heels clicking around my office, all my papers (we still used a lot of paper back then!), my special red pen, my computer my chair. So young. So much energy. So much hope. Such big plans. So sure I would make it. It was a belief with eyes closed, sheer willpower, immigrant bravado. Give the firm handshake, look them in the eye, make the deal. Who was that person!?? I feel a million miles from that now.

But that was me!  "I'm broke but I'm happy, I'm poor but I'm kind...I'm young and I'm underpaid, I'm tired but I'm working... and what it all comes down to (ooo-ooo!) is that everything is gonna be fine, fine fine..."

And it is. Weirdly. I mean, horribly, at times. I lost two jobs. $50,000. A book. A future. A house. A fetus. 1/4 of a lung. My mind. My career. Hung onto the man, barely. We can still see the whites of each other's eyes, at least. We're in another house. We had more babies. Made another $50,000, and another and another. Made new arteries to carry oxygen around the dead spot. Wrote another book. Made a new future. I got another job, kinda. Here we are.

What a ride.

I want to bring that me... she'd be depressed by my present, LOL, so I won't bring her here.... I want to bring that me, her energy, her fearlessness even as she was in fight/flight, her vision...bring that me and this one together somehow. She was blind to a lot and took some big risks, not all of which worked out. Had some terrible luck. But she was honest. And overall, it worked out fine, fine, fine.

Even then I knew the upsides had a down. I knew I was going against the grain of generational trauma and dysfunction. I was walking a tightrope without a net, in heels and an ill-fitting suit. Alanis, "Isn't it ironic, don't you think? It's like rain on your wedding day, a free ride when you've already paid, the good advice that you just didn't take....it's like 10,000 spoons when all you need is a knife. Meeting the man of my dreams and then meeting his beautiful wife...."

This is all part of me, part of All of Me. I don't want to forget. When I get down on myself for how some things turned out, I have to remember what I went though to get here. And that was just my 20s and 30s, LOL. We aren't even talking about the toddler years, the teens, Frank have mercy.

New playlist unlocked. My teen has never heard of Alanis Morissette. WHAT?! Where have I been all her life? ALEXA, PLAY ALANIS MORISSETTE! ALEXA, LOUDER! ALEXA, VOLUME TEN! I taught her how to head bang and we are having a mosh pit in the kitchen. Luckily dinner was light so we can stomach the jumping and hair-whipping. Here we are. Still here, still alive.

[sanmagic7]

Here we are. Still here, still alive.

we are indeed, hannah1.  and that's a lot.  sometimes more than expected.  keep going - you're doing great!  love and hugs

[HannahOne]

My follow up scans just got pushed to October. They are going to try to get them moved sooner again. I would really like to know the results thank you very much. Another month to wait is a bit tough. The whole process is exhausting and part of me just wants to pretend it's not happening and carry on with my life. I'm sick of it. Luckily my partner works at the hospital and he will lean on them. I am lucky lucky lucky, I have insurance, I am safe. It just feels like I'm unwillingly on a leash going I know not where.

I have a cold. I want to go to the beach but turned back after a bit into the drive. Still I was up all day, walking beasts, and working on my space in the bedroom. I brought in a child's desk for my shrine to what I want to remember and my tiny jewelry collection I just have two bracelets and a few necklaces but I Wanted them to have their own place. Jewelry is like makeup, I really can't wear it. Cooked some meals, washed some clothes. Threw out a good bit more stuff in the Swedish Death Cleaning process. I am really loving having less, letting go of so much from the past. It feels good.

I played with my clothes. I have navy pinstripe trousers to try to figure out, what the heck goes with those?  a light grey fuzzy sweater, but that's too hot. A white blouse, but that's boring. A chartreuse sweater, good... and a burgundy sweater to experiment with. What goes with it? the navy pinstripe pants ok. A bit boring, what for the shoe? polka dot Mary janes?  In survival times, all the non-essentials are stripped away. Makeup, jewelry, clothes, style of shoes. But now I want to learn how style can help me be present. Without words. My body within the clothes speaks and clothes can accentuate that, my face has expressions, and makeup can accentuate that. I am still taking it all in. I am thinking of my former therapist, she was very expressive in such a natural way. Imitating it wouldn't be natural. I have to find space within myself, space between my face muscles. I have to figure out how my hands want to talk. How my eyebrows might want to move. How to allow all of this to happen without monitoring and worrying.

I still often struck by severe social anxiety or shame EFs. If someone doesn't understand me at first or if communication isn't instant and easy, I feel like my father is looking at me like I'm nuts. I ran to him during a beating and he acted like he had zero idea what was going on. I left his room and went back to my room and the beating resumed. I mean, whatever. That look on people's faces is so triggering and I'm not sure what I am doing that causes it. Sometimes I think I talk too much, other times I think I don't talk enough. Sometimes I seem to talk in riddles and I don't make sense, other times I seem too blunt. Sometimes I am too much about the other person, asking questions, focusing on them and other times I am too much about me. I guess balance is falling and getting back up again. I want to have shared knowledge, a shared world, a shared understanding, some overlap in experience. I don't always know how to get on the same page as others, or maybe it's how to stay on my own page and still be able to see theirs. I tend to lose either mine or theirs. Usually mine. Then I get that look. And try to find where I went.

I feel too old to learn. I do some regular zoom meetings and one of them is full of people in their 20s, 30s and they seem so natural. I find zoom still a little difficult to know when to jump in, I'm either never jumping in a dn people ask about it, or I jump in but talk at the same time as someone.... it's partly the nature of zoom but I also still feel like I was improperly socialized, raised by wolves. I just don't find it natural or easy, and that itself can lead me to feeling wooden, or ashamed, which then makes it all much more unnatural...

Tomorrow to the city I am deciding between track pants with white loafer and a pinstripe top, vs navy pinstripe trousers and a chartreuse thin knit sweater, with gold/orange velvet Mary janes. the energy is behind the pinstripe and chartreuse but it may be a bit too warm for that. I will see the city therapist and we will see if I talk too much or too little, if I am confusing or clear, if what I say is connected to what she just said or not, if I refuse to talk about myself or relate everything to myself, if she can make any sense of me. At least in that relationship I don't have to worry quite so much as she's getting paid to put up with me.

One thing I like about the forum among many other things like all you lovely people here, is that I can be honest. I can just say it like it is. This is something I am practicing elsewhere. In real life I rarely speak because there's not much I can honestly say that isn't totally weird. Here I can be weird. So I can talk. I would like to learn to be better at conversation IRL. I can do it around work easily. But in any context that's not work, I flounder. I have to see a bunch of parents Thursday and I will be so awkward! My clothes will be saying, "I'm in chartreuse, I am here to be seen!" but my mouth will probably be full of cotton and I may not make any eye contact. I want to be more congruent. Sometimes I still feel very broken, very irregular, very uneven. Bent out of shape.

[HannahOne]

City therapist went well. I wore the black track pants and white loafers with a men's dress shirt. My former therapist would never wear track pants. The current therapist remarked on the parts of me represented by the outfit. Ok girl! She's a keeper so far.

My scans got moved, but then they called and can get me in a week from Wednesday. That's the day I go see the city therapist--but the city therapist had to cancel that Wednesday. Hey. Sometimes things work out.

I'm sick with a bad something or other, testing negative on all the tests but feeling very bad. I always mask on the train and I masked in the appointment, which she didn't think was necessary. I dunno. I have some health anxiety right now and feel like I'm a contaminating presence.

I hate the feeling of going down, wqaaaah wahhh wah woompp....womp........womp. I can see I'm not going to be able to keep things running. And this perpetual feeling of "no one to help." Feeling helpless and alone. Emotional flashback I guess.

Everyone can fend for themselves, so the dishes will sit and the trash will wait and the laundry will sit. And we'll all just survive. But I still struggle with the lack of care from the people I care for. Each has their own difficulties. And, when it's glaringly not mutual, can't be mutual, it feels wrong. I continue to offload and not take on other people's tasks, but there are shared tasks that people won't or can't share. It creates EFs to feel uncared for, to feel responsible for everyone yet unable to do. Just being unable to do is really hard for parts of me, that's how I do, I do. If I can't do...what? I know, I know, be.

Lying in bed being but feeling so much urgency to get up and put things in order.

I'm clearly not thinking straight. I walked the dog all the way around the block.... in her diaper.   LOL. Messed up the timing on two appointments tomorrow. Just not able to think. And that's also an EF. If I'm not my brain, what am I?! I survive by thinking! I think to myself as a virus takes me down. LOL.

I don't know how to comfort me. I can't even follow TV or movies. Maybe I'll try a podcast or story audible. I'm ok with doing nothing and allowing thoughts and feelings but not when I'm compromised. Wishing I had warm memories of being sick as a kid to refer to. I have to create my own. That's what I'll do---I'll do visualization. It works really well for me. I'll create the scene I want, the parent figure I want, a la IPFP that SenseOrgan shared about. My inner black bear will bring me tea, LOL. My former therapist will sit by my bed with a clipboard and take notes so I don't have to monitor myself.

[sanmagic7]

hey, hannah1, could you be experiencing stress flu?  not a real sickness as such, but many of the symptoms - low fever, feeling miserable, no energy, foggy brain, can't concentrate well, chills - like the flu is coming on.  i get these a lot, all from stress.  i've seen it mentioned on other forums, so i know it's a thing.  for me, rest and food are what help it go away.

as for masking, i do that all the time when i go out, except to someone's house that i know, and they'd tell me if anyone there is ill.  i just don't trust anything, and don't know how my immune system might hold up.  besides, i feel crappy enough too much of  the time to take on a real illness as well.  so, mask if you want to, it's not hurting anyone.

hang tough, ok?  i'm hangin' right beside you,  love and hugs

[HannahOne]

Than k you, SanMagic 7. Stress flu is very real. Turns out I have a viral invader.   I'm glad to "meet" a fellow masker and thank you for the encouragement. I can't lose any more lung tissue. bUt this time the virus was in my house. Sigh. However even though it turns out I am sick, I'm so glad I masked because I didn't expose anyone else.

[HannahOne]

I went to hospital and I'm officially sick. I'm having trouble because I'm too isolated. Being sick also lowers my psychological defenses. Feeling vulnerable triggers EFs.

I wanted to go to the beach today it's the last nice day but the drive feels like too much. Part of me is very very frustrated.

I cope with anxiety by doing, cleaning mainly. I can't clean right now. I start to feel trapped if I can't move around and accomplish things, I start to feel helpless if I can't make visible changes in my environment and enact a sense of control over the place. I can't seem to watch TV or even scroll, I need to do something physical, I can't pay attention. I know this is an EF, as a kid I had to hurry and look busy, quickly clean up any evidence that I existed or had come out of my room, hide that I had taken some food. Quickly make the place look normal, ok. 

Sometimes It's like I don't know who I am if I am not doing these tasks. It's like I don't exist if I'm not washing dishes. I guess it's part of me that feels that way, erased the rest of me that was distressing, and just focused on tasks? It was more that by doing the tasks and perfecting the environment I was fixing the problem. On New Years Even at the stroke of midnight I rushed to wash the dog's bowls and didn't finish before the ball dropped, then sobbed. Somehow getting the dog's bowls clean would mean a good new year, and failing meant I didn't change the future. Magical thinking. I know that's not true. I can wash dishes all day, doesn't change my loneliness. I can have the house perfect so it looks like I don't even live here, doesn't make me feel any more at home, doesn't make anyone here hug me or care about me. Cleaning was a form of erasing, yes. Erasing evidence of myself, making things look perfect like on TV as nothing bad happened on TV, leave it to Beaver, the Brady Bunch, it was always ok in the end. But making things look perfect doesn't actually prevent bad things from happening nor does it bring more love and care into a situation. Nothing I could do then would have brought more love and care and it didn't matter how much I erased my existence or tried to be zero problem, I was going to be treated like a problem. No matter how much I took care of others, they were not going to have the energy to care about me. I didn't know how to connect with my parents it was not possible to connect with them, so I tried to be useful, and make a good environment for my sibling, I tried to keep busy and make things look normal and ok. Tried to be Good, I guess. that's cute. But it's not working in my current situation. I was never able to be. Be present. Be me.

Figuring it out isn't going to help much. I know this is anxiety and that I just need to get into my body, into my hand like in painting. I don't want to be in my body because I am sick and I feel contaminated, bad. I am going to see if I can do some simple dot painting.

This is good practice for the future if my activity is limited I'm going to have to learn to exist without doing so much physical work, working out, cleaning. It's so hard for me to be still!

For mental health I am thinking I will need daily Zoom check ins with people so I don't get lost in my own mind. I will need daily time outside and short walks. I will need to do an activity with my hand that doesn't use my arms much, like dot painting, or working on my drawing skills which are still abysmal. I will need to get my entire head wet, I never feel present if I haven't washed my face and hair. I'm going to need help with that for the first six weeks. Sigh. I will need if at all possible to go to painting class physically, I will need someone to drive me. I will need to see my therapist by Zoom.

Practically, I will need a meal plan. I will need paper plates and bamboo silverware to avoid dishes. I will need someone to do the laundry. I will need a dog walker. And I will need someone to put away the groceries, carry in the bags. Someone to take out the trash. Someone to wash my hair. Someone to drive the kid. Good Frank, how the Frank am I going to do this.

I will figure all that out later. For now just holding it together mentally today. Need to go eat something. Need my three F's for the day. Food, fresh air, friends.  A small voice objects, FOUR F's! What about me, Franklin D Rabbit? Right, right. Need my four F's. Food, Fresh air, friends, and Frank time. Cuddling with Frank is always grounding because he lives so close to the ground. He would like to live underground if only his digging in his carpet were productive and he could make a burrow. He digs furiously, looks around still stunned that he has made no progress, then flops in frustration, spreading out like a pancake on the ground, as low as he can get. Stay low, like Frank. That's the way to get through.

I'm very dad not to have seen the ocean this season when it's warm. But I can't travel right now. I will eat and sit on the porch and look at the blue sky. The sky is the same here, there, everywhere. A span of blue, air.

[NarcKiddo]

I'm so sorry you're not well and I hope you feel better soon. I also find myself feeling out of proportion fragile when I am unwell. I want my husband to fuss and fret by my bedside but at the same time I absolutely do not want him doing any such thing, nor do I want him loading the dishwasher the wrong way. It's really grim.

It's good that you are thinking now about what you will need for the upcoming surgery. It's so much better to have some sort of a plan rather than just having it all thrust upon you. And although it is of course bad that you are sick now, at least you can point to all these things your family has not stepped up to do and point out that over a week or so it can maybe slide, but over six weeks or so it absolutely cannot and they are going to have to get on board properly. You are not in a situation where they can say 'of course we will do x' and then not do it, because you can point to x not having been done now, which is why you need to allocate tasks ahead of time.

You've got this HannahOne. But for now please concentrate on resting and getting yourself better. I'm glad they were able to bring the scans forward.

 

[HannahOne]

NK, that cracked me up! Yes, I want him to fuss and fret.... but he loads the dishwasher wrong! LOL. Thank you for commiserating with me. The poor man puts up with me somehow. I don't know how his neck can hold up the giant halo he must wear from dealing with me! We put each other in these impossible binds, please help me but no, not like that! There is a part of me that can never be satisfied and is afraid to be helped, afraid to let go of how the dishes are loaded, just as much as there is a part of me who doesn't want to be the one to load the dishes.

I was able to think through and clarify and share with him a little. That this is an old wound I have. And admit to myself and him that he can never fix it or fill it. We get into trouble when part of me starts imagining that he could. It's unfair to him, and impossible. And, it would help if he would acknowledge that gap. He can't do that if I don't flag it for him. So I did. We sat in the bummer of it all. Then he surprised me with a takeout breakfast. And drove me back to the doctor, and then drove to get my antivirals, and then drove the kid to their event.... All of this is taking care. He just will never be my mommy. Ah well.

Speaking of my mommy, I was stunned to learn today that Coco Chanel took fabric from men's underwear---jersey had not been used in outer clothes at the time---to make her first set of fashion clothes for women. Stunned to learn that it's Chanel who got us out of corsets! Who got us into pants, trousers! It's Chanel who brought the androgynous look, the menswear tweeds, to women's clothes. I had no idea. An entire section of human culture has been unknown to me. I should have known more about her. All I knew was "Chanel no 5". Chanel was also involved with Nazis and is no one to be revered.

But part of why I was so stunned to learn this, and what is has to do with my mommy!    is that the book I made about the former therapist, the nonfiction memoir book that I made into a 300 page found poem about the work I was doing with her---the book mentioned Coco Chanel, and at the time in my imagination, I related that reference to my very well-dressed therapist. Having no idea who Coco Chanel really was or what she did. Understanding the connection of Chanel with the therapist felt so validating, how my unconscious had latched on to "Coco Chanel" in reference to the therapist and how that connection actually referred to the massive shift in women's clothes that Chanel created, that allowed women to enter the workforce, see themselves as agents and not decorations, move freely through the world not in corsets and giant skirts, and take on some of men's "attributes" via taking on their clothing, allowed women a new kind of equality, freedom, and power....

The clothing project is deeper than I realized and has more to do with my unconscious and the collective unconscious than I imagined. It has to do with being All of Me, masculine and feminine, wearing my husband's suit pants and a lace shirt, yes. But it also has to do with what clothes ALLOW. They allow not just self-expression, but also freedom, movement, purposeful work. You can't work, or be equal in power to a man, if you can't breathe from a corset and can't move due to a giant skirt.

My poor mother was poor in many ways. Her poverty pains me. My therapist-fairy godmother was enriched and that enchanted me in many ways. Maybe I was enlivened in part by colors, textures, fabrics, shapes, so lively, but maybe I was also enlivened by what her clothes represented to my unconscious, freedom, appropriate power, work, self-determination.

Self-determination. To determine oneself we need tools to do that, what tools can we use? Language, we can declare "I am ___" whatever we are. We can also use body language, speak without saying a word, we can stand tall. We can use clothes, "I choose what to express, what to hide." "I decide what you see." Clothes are also a language.

I used to think the self came first, and then the clothes. So I was constantly trying to figure out "who I am" to figure out what to wear. I think maybe the clothes come first. The clothes allow me to be who I am. It will be harder to be me, to express my inner attributes, if I'm in rags, or striped prison wear. Which is why they make prisoners wear stripes, or orange jumpsuits. It's a way to tame them. It's easier to express more of me in trousers and a lace blouse. If I'm wearing an apron I'm more prone to cook than to go out to a dance, and if I'm wearing PJs I'm more likely to lounge than to scrub the floors. Like we learn by going where we have to go as Roethke said, and learn by saying what it is we think, so we learn by dressing what it is we want to enact in the world. We learn by choosing the clothes who we want to be.

That's why being able to choose what I wear matters so much right now. I am often poked with shame, so many have no choice, and clothes don't matter, clothes don't make the man. I know. I got my clothes from a trash bag of charity more times than I can count. Or wore what I was told, skirt no shorter than X, top must come up to Y, no red, no yellow, no orange, no---make it simple just wear black....

It is still difficult to have the choice. Difficult to be free. When I choose one shoe and not the other, I see my mother with holes in her shoes, kids who have no shoes and walk more miles in a day than I do in a week, I see the scandal of how many cans of soup one shoe could buy for someone hungry in my town. Heck, for me a decade plus ago when we were living in our car. Survivor's guilt, I guess. I put some money aside for the food pantry, future me will think it right. And past me would want me to wear the glitter now and be happy. What else did she survive for but that I could live, and shine?

[NarcKiddo]

no red, no yellow, no orange,

Whaaaaaaat? They would have the vapours if they could see all the stuff hanging on my laundry line.

I am happy that you were able to talk through some of this with your husband and that he was prepared to sit with you in the bummer of it all. Sometimes that is so much more comforting than receiving the practical help he later offered - but I am happy you received that, too.