Stuff
Today I found out where I can drop off household goods, clothing, etc. I also left a message with some trash haulers. Trying to get unstuck on some projects that involve getting rid of stuff first. I've had a mattress in my van for just over a year now!
I miss clothing swaps. That's something that really doesn't work so well in these pandemic days, a room full of excited people trying on clothing. I have a lot to go and I suppose Goodwill will be the best option. Somehow it makes me sad, although it's not as hard as contemplating throwing things out because we cannot donate.
I admire minimalist style, butt I'm always wonderer where the people who live in these spaces are hiding devices, cables, pens, and such things.
I suppose you have a brain shift where, instead of physical treasures, you have this gift of empty space. I kind of get out and then, like an otter, I'm holding onto my favorite rocks!
I get to see my physical therapist tomorrow. It's been over 3 months and I am pleased I've done as well as I have. I'm also hurting a lot more the past few weeks and having muscle spasms; nightmares, reality, and trauma therapy after adding up.
Month Three
Today marks three months without seeing friends or students, without coffee shops or eating out in any way.
I was unfriended by a toxic yoga teacher I didn't personally know for telling her that her anti-mask stance was a problem and she needed to do better to live her yoga. I'd told her I'd share a study with her today as to why masks are helpful but discovered that she's gone and with her all the notifications from her buddies piling on me.
I shared it anyway because it's important.
I'm tired of this year. I'm tired of selfish people. I'm tired of white fragility. I'm especially tired of yoga people who are doing the work of upholding injustice.
I'm tired of making myself smaller. I'm tired of speaking gently and softly. I'm tired of trying to fit in. I'm tired of thinking it's something I'm doing wrong.
Toxic Women
My peer wrote a passive-aggressive post what're she doesn't name me, but shames me. She uses language my Mother used. She lies in her framing.
I also told off people posting misinformation anchor wearing masks. Another, different white yoga teacher.
CK helped ground me past the triggering language. I've got a lot to unpack about the way white women use shame and manipulate to make themselves always look like the virtuous one.
In response to this I submitted two proposals to present at an online yoga therapy summit.
Distracting White Women
Today was a day where I felt tired all day. A nap didn't lift my energy or spirits. I've felt sad at the edges all day long.
I'm noodling over the conversation I had yesterday with my friendly peer. Part of this is anxiety, the Rejection Sensitive Dysphoria is really bothered by telling someone they're using racist language.
I'm angry at all the misinformation she kept sharing. Especially correlating COVID infections rising with protestors, I called her on that too, pulling her to the facts about incubation. Her pulling out some 17% tie to a First Nations community!!
I'm thinking how I need to take care of myself when I'm confronting racism like this with peers. If it means I'm angry for a day as I integrate it all, I just need to plan for that energy shift.
Difficult Discussions
Growing up I was frequently told I made a big deal out of, well just about everything. I couldn't "take a joke". I was prone to being "too serious" and needed to "lighten up".
I eventually learned, through my Mother's training, to laugh when I didn't find a situation or joke funny. I leaned to bite back many of the questions or concerns. To hide my judgement in hopes that I'd fit in better.
She would tell you I never would back down on many topics. I'm as "stubborn as a mule" and don't respect my elders because I "always have to be right". I'm a know-it-all who thinks I'm better than everyone else.
I had a conversation with a friend tonight in which I called them on invalid information (COVID spike is due to Memorial Day ignorant behavior, not protesters) and on some racist language they used.
It was exhausting and not fun at all. I don't feel a sense of satisfaction and moral superiority, contrary to what my Mother believed. I feel sad, very sad.
I ranted about it to process, but mostly to remember things about three conversation I want to remember and write more about when I have the mental bandwidth. There was so much white fragility in the conversation. So much to unpack about what people think when you talk about a racist.
They envision a dude in a white hood or wearing a swastika or even the conferderate flag. They don't picture my Mother complaining about "lazy Mexicans" (she said "Mexican" for any Latinx person). That's a problem.
Comfort Gaming
I’m embracing my foray into online gaming that is Animal Crossing New Horizons. It’s hard because it really feels like I should be doing anything but playing a video game.
There’s countless homeowner tasks for the yard and house. Getting the budget done. Making great meals. Writing my memoirs. Meditating or asana practice. I should be creating art! Making my website better, or any number of business tasks.
I realize how hard it is to rest, still.
I’m feeling sad about COVID19 tonight and all the ways it’s made life harder and less fun. I wanted made-to-order food at the market yesterday and it still isn’t available. It’s the closest I’ve come to take out since March 13.
Mother Act
Today's Therapy Hangover hasn't been as intense as prior weeks. I've been pretty worn out today and going to the market overwhelmed me a little. I'm grateful for easy dinner and time spent sitting on the patio playing a video game.
It's my first time going out in a county that's reopened and I wasn't prepared for the number of people without masks. The market I went to requires that customers wear them and staff do too, but there wasn't any requirement at the craft store, a Michael's, and I saw many people unmasked.
I'm still trying to get my head around my Mother leaving me home alone as a very small child. Trying to reconcile the mother act, the involved, protective mother with the truth about the mother I had when no one could see.
Never a Fit Parent
Today was Trauma Therapy Tuesday and we nudged my memory from age 4 ever closer to integration. I forgot my mask going out today and it left me feeling so anxious!
⚠️ ⚠️⚠️⚠️CW: Childhood abuse; neglect, emotional & physical abuse.⚠️⚠️⚠️⚠️
It wasn't a big shift because it suddenly got me that the memory of homelessness was caused because my Mother was fired from her job for lying about being out sick. I had answered the phone while home alone and truthfully told the caller that my Mommy was out shopping.
She told me repeatedly that it was my fault we were homeless. It seemed pretty obvious that if I hadn’t answered the phone, she wouldn’t have been fired.
Of course this is ridiculous, I was 4, how could her bad decision be my fault.
What finally really landed for me today was that my Mother had left me home alone at age 4 to go hang out with her friends. That it was not unusual for her to do that. She did it knowing I’d play quietly because I was already terrified of what she’d do to me if I got into anything.
The scenario of my getting into something while home alone, then violently punished by my Mother, plays out several more times. She would leave me alone all the time.
“That’s a CPS call.” My therapist noted as I was talking through this realization, “Maybe age 10, some kids can be left alone.”
“Your Mother never was a fit parent.”, she commented, as we unpacked the knowledge that she regularly neglected me this way.
Cupcakes for Victory
I'm always behind the cool kids. It takes me ages, usually, to decide to follow a trend. Baking while sheltering on place is over of those tends. Today I made cupcakes.
They're not awesome, it wasn't a recipe I'd made several times before CK discovered she's gluten intolerant, so I can't really account for how the change of flour affected it. I'm trying another more familiar recipe later this week or next. My buttercream really did not come out well.
More students asked if I'd facilitate a discussion about the yoga of social justice. It honestly is so far out of my comfort zone, really into discomfort around correcting women my Mother's age. At the same time I recognize I'm being asked because I'm trusted.
It also is a powerful act I can take as a white woman to help educate older adults about dismantling racism. It's begging a better ally if I can be in this discomfort.
Eating and Other Irritations
Lunch defeated me today.
I felt like a failure. I made a lunch for CK, but she couldn't really eat it. Today that felt like I'd dropped the ball of the I've thing I was getting right.
I kept reminding myself, and her, that it wasn't really about the lunch. It was about the pandemic and the protests and the lack of accountability of the police and the Mayor of Portland who's on the side of Money instead of the City and the People.
I wanted to bake cupcakes, testing the gluten free version of the cupcakes I made for CK on the first of her birthdays we spent together. Instead I got so nauseous that I couldn't eat and we played a game until I felt better.
A decent day overall, but I feel exhausted and all I want to do is curl up and read all day and nap.