"What in the actual fuck is happening."

That right there folks is the only line of a draft I started on my last attempt at writing here. 
I don't have any idea what I was talking about. But I do know that it's applicable to my life most of the time. It's not like it was an epiphany or realization that would have been helpful to have remembered.
So no real loss, I guess. 

It's relevant today, as ever.

Winter term was supposed to start, I had two classes I was supposed to go to. But snow, ice and the hysteria that surrounds a snow storm in Portland, meant that the whole campus was shut down.
I'm hoping it'll be reopened tomorrow because I have another four more that I'm waiting to start.

I was kind of disappointed at first, because I had psyched myself up for it. And the beginning of the term is the easiest so I'm looking forward to getting a better idea of what my classes are going to be like.

But after grocery shopping today and trying my best not to fall on my ass carrying them into the house, the one thing I don't want to do tomorrow is go back out there.
I don't want studying and work and getting up early.
I don't want pressure and I don't want failure.

I crammed over the weekend to finish a bunch of work I was missing from one of my classes I took last term, so I could get a grade for the class. It was due today, at the start of this term and I, of course, had put it off until the last minute.
But I felt so relieved to send all of it off to my professor last night, because I had been carrying that weight over the entirety of my winter break.
And then when I woke up this morning and I figured out that I didn't have class, I realized this was the first day of my break (and it wasn't even supposed to be my last) that I was legitimately free from obligation.

So that fucking blows.

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Now it's today, the day after I started writing this, the first day of actual classes.
But I started my period last night and my cramps are so bad they make me nauseated and I've been throwing up all morning.
So no class for me.
I'm missing the very first ones. And I have four classes today.

I feel like I'm being stabbed in the gut. I'm so nauseated that water won't even hold in my stomach and I can't move.
And if that wasn't miserable enough, I'm so incredibly anxious about missing my classes today. What if they give someone else my spot? What if I miss so much that I fall behind? What if this reflects on me as a student to my professors?

I know it's not my fault and it's out of my control and blah blah blah.
But it feels so much like something else, so much like all of the other times I just didn't go that I can't help hating myself a little bit.

So, here I am.

I don't even know what to say here.

I thought I wanted to write but I'm not sure what it is that I actually want to say to anyone.

I guess I've been really contemplative lately. I've been thinking a lot about where I am and all that has led up to me being here. And how things might have been different. And if I'm doing the right things. If I'm honestly doing the best I could be doing for myself. If I'm making the choices that are best for me. If what I'm doing is making me as happy as it is possible for me to be.

I'm questioning everything, I'm not sure why or for how long I'll need to do this. My thoughts are very cyclical and the end is not clear at this point.

Some time though, I'll need to be satisfied with what I've got, what's going on for me right now. I'll need to accept what is.

But I can't force it. I'm not going to try.

The last week of the term is this one and I'm caught up in this. 

Because nothing is going to change suddenly, I have to move forward with what I've got. So we'll see. I'm not holding my breath and neither should you.

See ya on the other side.

Zine Work

I've been working on a zine with my friend Katie over the past few weeks. I'm using a piece I wrote after a horrific manic episode. I remember sitting on the couch in the living room with my roommates and while they were watching something, I was writing and coming down hard. For some reason in that moment, I wanted people to know him. I wanted others to know my beast.

It's written much like children's books are written. The language is very simple, very clear. It isn't long or very complicated. But I think that's the right place to start. In this zine, accompanied by Katie's illustrations, my beast is given shape. He looks very much like the way I have imagined him.

This process has been surprising, affecting me in ways I couldn't have predicted. Sitting with Katie in a cafe yesterday, watching her bring to life this creature, this companion, was so strange. Suddenly there he was. Suddenly he was real.

It surprised me that when we first talked about the kind of illustrations I wanted with each line, how quickly the images came to me. I know what this looks like though. I have known what this looks like for so long.

This might be the most vulnerable I have chosen to be about him, ever. For some reason this feels bigger than a conversation or a blog post. This feels like the beginning of something. A door.

Maybe this is the beginning of a series. Maybe it has been an experiment and a step in my healing process.

I'm going to try to keep the beast from ruining it, whatever this is.

I haven't decided exactly how many copies I'm going to make and I feel weird about selling them even if it's only for a dollar or two. But if you want one, maybe let me know?

Friendsgiving 2015

Last night I hosted Friendsgiving, a little tradition that has been passed down to me over the last few years.

It's a night once a year that I have the opportunity to gather with a bunch of my good friends, eat delicious food and celebrate gratitude.
It's the day after but I'm still running on the warm glow of Friendsgiving.

I don't think I realized how much I needed it this year, specifically. Earlier in the day yesterday, my mom called me so we could finalize our Thanksgiving plans. I've known for a while now that this year would be very different from past years and that I would be responsible for more of it than I have been before. But I felt the full weight of it when I realized that it's less than a week away. And I don't even mean that cooking dinner is a burden, though it may be a challenge. I feel heavy with loss. I am grieving over the family I was given, the family that is out of touch and apart.

I understand why it needs to be this way. I really do.

But yesterday, that understanding still found a way of surrendering to the weight, and the grief.

My family is big, loud and chaos is our natural habitat. The holidays always arrive too quickly, we are never prepared, but we always manage to celebrate our togetherness just in time. Usually, the holidays are a reminder of the unconditional love we possess for one another. It is true magic.

Yet here we are. We aren't strong enough this time to pull it together. It was bound to happen, really.

And Max. I don't know if I can actually say more than his name right now. But there's grief there too.

In this time of uncertainty and pain, I am carried by my friends. I have been embraced. I am loved.
This family of mine, this family I have chosen, is everything.

Well, I slept in and have been sitting on the couch with my sister and my pup, drinking coffee for hours.

So, yeah.
That happened.

Fuuuuuuuuuuuck.

Update this in few hours, maybe it'll be a good way to stay accountable? Or another way to shame and humiliate myself. We'll see, I guess.

Cross your fingers it's the former? Thx.

I think I'm on my way out.
I'm surprised that I've managed to get here before the term ends. Most of the time it doesn't work that way. I'm thankful though and I'm not going to spend any more time questioning it. I'm just going to let a good thing, be a good thing for once.

In the last three months I've seen within myself all of the things that matter and all that I am capable of. A lot of the time what I experience is so internal that I'm overwhelmed by my own emotions. My mood cycles catch me up and carry me for unpredictable and sometimes indefinite, periods of time. My brain is so full of this internal chaos, I'm unable to think or pay attention to anything else.

This is when my beast gets opportunistic.
While I'm preoccupied he cuts me down.
My back is turned and he's fucking shit up.
I'm a stick of dynamite and my beast is the one to light me and watch me blow.

I come back around later and I'm surrounded by wreckage;
All of the things I've neglected
All of people that have been trying to get a hold of me
All of the ways I've failed myself

I forget so easily what it feels like to be capable of things.

Tomorrow, I'm going to spend the day studying. I'm going to sit in the feeling of it.
I'm gonna tell my beast he can fuck right off.

There's nothing like working with a group of girls who have survived so much in their young lives, to remind you to pull your head out of your ass and do work.

I'm not pulling out of this fast enough and I'm not anywhere near caught up but I've done this shit before and I'll do it again because I fucking can.

I wasn't able to fall asleep until 6am this morning but with only four hours of sleep I made it to my Girl Power group. I found myself sharing my life story with teenage girls I had never met. I told them I had been diagnosed as bipolar when I was 14 and in response a girl said, "That's what's up". We all laughed.

It was not the response that I had expected but for some reason her phrasing resonated with me.

She was right. That's what's up for me right now. And that's okay.

Last night I was talking to my sister and in that conversation I started to piece together a sequence of triggers. That's what they've been, even if I couldn't name them in the moment. I've been triggered, multiple times in the past two weeks. What did I expect to happen? That I would be able to get up, dust myself off and walk away unscathed?

Old wounds have been reopened.
Every time this happens, there must be healing.
The wounds are there, the scars will never truly fade.

That's what's up.