As I start diving into the meat of Yellow, the finale to my trilogy on Depression, it's an emotional experience. Not only did this whole thing start as a short drabble about a sad kid staring at the sky, but as Conner's grown, so have I.
And it's weird to grow up at the same time as your characters.
0 Comments
Holy crepes, y'all, it's been a minute.
And yes, I actually do say crepes sometimes instead of crap. Fight me. Normal expletives get boring sometimes. Anyway, last time we saw each other I was starting to suck at this whole daily blog thing and gave no explanation. Well, folks, first I'm an embarrassment and I apologize. But I swear it's for good reasons. Let's get into it. Disclaimer: Now, let's start this fun adventure by saying I am no psychologist. Any speculating I do here is just that: speculating. But, I wanted to have some fun with something I think might be related to Spectrum-ish brain activity. If not, it'll just be a fun piece. Enjoy!
Last night, deep in sleep, I was side by side with this handsome man, talking about our dreams for the future. We just survived some sort of horrific zombie apocalypse on our college campus and as world order was starting to fix itself, we had to figure out our future. And we were figuring out if it was together. But just as this poor bugger started to say something romantic, my dream self looked him in the face, frowned, and said, "Wait, no, W's my boyfriend". And the dreamy son of a bitch disappeared into thin air. After 12 days of silence, I am back and more ready than ever to get things going.
We have a home. It's not perfect and definitely has some projects living in it, but it's still beautiful and ours. I have this gorgeous office with wonderful natural light and so many plants. No matter how much I've enjoyed time alone with house and my boys, getting back to work is riveting. I finally am writing again. It's going to be a slow long day, but just like the house, it's still mine. But, the real question is, what now? 'Let's preface this by saying that until a week ago I didn't know the song "Changes" was a David Bowie song.
Y'see, when I was a kid I thought Billy Idol was David Bowie and I just didn't have any clue what David Bowie sounded like. I didn't realize my heinous mistake until I told my boyfriend that my favorite David Bowie song was "White Wedding" and he nearly spit his drink. To this day, my instinct is still that Billy Idol songs "sound" like David Bowie and David Bowie's songs are a faceless mystery. But, I digress. This post isn't about David Bowie at all. I just wanted to reference "Changes". Because yes, there are a lot of changes going on here, folks. And it's all horrible, wonderful, electric excitement. This weekend, a friend of mine complimented me about how friendly and extroverted my boyfriend and I are.
Yeah, be me and feel that internal record scratch. I was polite and didn't go into a whole rant about it or anything. I just laughed it off and told her thank, but I was definitely an introvert. She was super kind and then just edited herself to say she admired how talkative I can be in a social setting even though I'm an introvert. Apparently (as she's an engineer like the boyfriend) a lot of her friends were the kind of people who would just quietly hide in the corners of social events and be very awkward about it. I, on the other hand, was leading the conversations with said boyfriend. At this point, I didn't know how to explain all the disorderly and personal reasons I'm a talkative introvert. So, I just blamed it on being the only kid in a family full of adults. But this isn't my first time dealing with the "extrovert" problem. Actually, I myself was team "call Stephanie an extrovert" for a long time. That is, until I got my head straight and realized that wasn't true at all. I learned that I am adept at the "extrovert" trick. AKA, despite my proclivities, I am fantastic at fooling people into thinking I am one. Blogger's Note: Ah yes, I've infamously missed a blog post again. Well, I just really liked what I was writing and wanted to give myself more time to make sure it's a good story. Now shush and enjoy.
You know what fictional character makes me the most miserable? Okay, ignoring the recent Joker situation. The answer, shitty representation clowns aside, is Holden Caulfield. After a whole week (read: life) of bitching about annoying, unrealistic representations of mental health, this weekend I watched something awesome. I know, real scary territory for me, not being able to be mad and ranting, but instead be proud and appreciative of something. It's very fresh and exciting for me.
ANYWAY. With too much self-deprecating fanfare coming with it, enter the Amazon Prime original, Undone. Oh boy, well this is where we get to have a fun, old school Stephanie rant.
So, let's talk about the word uncomfortable and trying to soften the blows for ableds and then only finding myself miserable because I tried to soften it and then only let other people undermine my needs. Y'know, the fun shit. Anyway, so there's a certain movie that I've mentioned on here that I absolutely hate for its portrayal of mental health. Also, as a dumbass, I thought it would be chill to write a whole piece on the film. Yes, I made a grave error on my end. Independence is already a tricky concept, but it’s even trickier as someone with disabilities. We grapple with it on many fronts, in some ways having to accept the things we can’t do and cling so tightly onto aspects of it that we have. It’s a double edged sword that never gets easier.
After all, the more independence we find, the drunker we get on it. But, as humans, the more independent we become, the harder it is to rely on other people, people that we love and need. And for disabled people, its even harder when we know we need people but sometimes find so much more satisfaction in not needing them. I can’t speak on everyone’s experience, but I can speak on my own. And I personally struggle with independence like it’s a fucking demon on my back, but a demon that I’m madly in love with. |
|