Like Words Together Reflections from the deep end of Practice.

16Mar/210

Donuts and Friends

Monday I decided to take donuts to several friends. It went mostly well; I failed my timing in getting CK something special as well as forgetting to even stop at the bakery. Since I had picked up something especially delicious for dinner, she wasn't too sad.

Seeing friends, albeit briefly since the weather shifted to cold, windy, and hailing or sleeting, and the super special treat of fancy donuts, was pretty delightful. I also got to exchange presents with a friend; she gave me topographical maps, old library catalog cards, and a few computer punch cards!

I started listening to an audiobook called, "Laziness Does Not Exist" by Devon Price Ph.D., and it talks about how so many of us who come from poverty, blue collar families, or are queer, are even more likely to be pulled into the lie that we're lazy if we're not spending every waking moment producing. I absolutely see myself in this book; all the times I'm up at night half convinced I haven't done enough to deserve rest. I call it the "Productivity Trap", the author calls it the "Laziness Lie", which is pretty powerful!

Last night, realizing I was tired but hadn't made a blog post yet, I decided it was ok to skip it and just get to the restorative yoga pose that would help me sleep.

Tonight my mind's still buzzing a little, so it's post time!

Had a therapy session today where I kept being struck by how alone and lonely I am as a 6-7 year old kid. The memories of the specific instances of trauma weren't as present, so much as the aftermath. I realized how largely absent my Mother is, she shows up in brief explosions of anger, but I'm often so isolated and longing for connection.

None of these memories will ever be transformed into something beautiful, but as I integrate them I am discovering my child self. I'm seeing how creative and inventive I am, how tenacious, and how I find or create, cultivate resources that help me feel safe, comforted, and nurtured. Sometimes it was actual people, more often than not finding adults who cared for me in ways both small and great. Or just making a part of my bedroom really soothing.

I love my child self and appreciate her. I'm proud of what a clever, resourceful, resilient human she was and I remain.

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