Some Updates


My health has been somewhat rocky this summer.  My doctor increased the dose of the medicine I’m on.  That was about two weeks ago, and while it’s gotten me out of the danger zone in regards to mental health, my appetite has flatlined.  (The fact that the servery food is abysmal hasn’t really helped.)  I’ve been consistently nauseous for about three days, but fortunately liberal applications of CaCl2 have kept that in check.  (While I don’t precisely have emetophobia, I’d prefer to keep what little food I ingest inside.)

Ever since the incident in May, I’ve tried to refrain from talking too much about my health, since I know it’s exhausting for people.  The downside of the incident is that there is no longer anyone I can really trust, even if I do need someone to talk to.  I’d prefer to avoid upsetting or inconveniencing anyone, if possible.  

Yesterday (and this is probably indicative of how much of a teenage girl I still am) I was reading some Winter Soldier fanfiction.  Somehow, the way the author described Bucky’s state of mind after the events of the movie really clicked with how I am feeling.  There are routines that are safe and it’s best not to break them, at least not right now.

I’ve read that diet and exercise are supposed to be good for alleviating depression.  Somehow, my subconscious has latched on to that “diet” part quite fiercely.  It feels good to eat smaller portions of things and to rely more on raw fruits and vegetables, but some things, such as my continuing Starbucks-and-soda addiction, are not to be messed with.

I’d probably exercise more if it weren’t so terribly hot outside.  I try to explore a little on the weekends, but the ever-increasing temperature is making it more and more difficult to work up the courage to go outside.  Unfortunately, I have a long weekend this week (less money and more ennui) so I’ll try and get off my butt and do something exciting.

I so, so desperately want those diet-and-exercise pushers to be right.

Not Everyone Is Beautiful

Mindless Productivity

Every two or three days, I see an article or blog post or forwarded inspirational quote about beauty. It’s usually something affirming like

“You are beautiful, whether you know it or not.”

“We are all beautiful.”

“Everyone is beautiful to somebody.”

It’s cheerful stuff. It builds the self-esteem, makes people feel valued, and spreads joy and happiness across the internet.

It’s also bullshit.

angry face enraged

And you know it’s bullshit, because you really wanted to laugh at that picture.

Everyone is not beautiful. Some people have tumors the size of a second head growing out of their ears. Some people have skin like the Michelin man. Some people lose fingers, legs, or eyes in horrific assembly-line machine accidents. People have warts and blemishes and hair loss and dead teeth and lazy eyes and cleft palates and third nipples and unibrows.

There are plenty of people that are not physically appealing to look at, the…

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You want to know something important about people?
They lie. They lie a lot. Lying is the second thing
you learn, even before you learn to speak:
you can lie with your hands, your voice, your eyes, your body,
anything at all, which is important, it’s a survival strategy,
but my parents never told me that, all they told me was
that I should tell the truth, and I try but I can’t always
because I am human, and humans lie. I tell two lies
almost every day: No, I didn’t know that, and Yes,
I’m fine, when really I knew that all along, and no,
I’m not fine – but thanks for asking.

Humans also believe. They believe a lot. This is why
I can believe things that don’t really make any sense,
things like But I need you! or You’re the most important
person in my life! or You look great in those pants! I believe
those things because I need to, even though there is
doubt in my heart and it gets stronger and thicker
every day and I have to try hard to keep it from cracking
my sternum in two, like concrete.

One night I had to share a bed with my friend, and since
it was a twin bed – and neither of us are exactly small people –
we had to squish, and right before I turned out the light I
turned to him and said Is it okay if I put my head on your chest,
and he said Of course it is, and I just looked at him because
in my mind my head is something no human being
would ever want anywhere near their heart, and I said Are you sure,
and he said I don’t tell the truth about a lot of things
but I’m telling the truth about this.

When I was thirteen I sat in the back seat of my mother’s
minivan and told her about this boy I had a crush on, I told her that
I loved him, and she said You’re thirteen, you don’t know
anything about love, and I wish I could tell her she was
wrong, that I knew everything about love when I was thirteen
that I do at twenty-one. I think that if the world could love
like thirteen-year-olds we’d all be better off. We’d worry less
about truth and lies and more about jasmine and poetry
and the way someone’s face feels pushed into your hair,
the feeling of your arm on their chest, the hollowness of their
bones under your skin, and that’s what my survival is,
that liminal space, that darkness beyond truth and beyond
words, that’s the first thing you learn, even before you learn
how to lie. The first thing you learn is love.