aikaterine: Waterhouse study (Default)
As children, we are told stories of simple people. Good or evil. One or the other. Simple stories for minds unready for the full complexities of life. But as we grow, we become aware of ever more involved truths. We learn of deep and abiding beauty entrenched in the hearts of “villains”. We become aware of great and terrible evil nurtured in the hearts of “heroes”. As we grow, we come to see the world more as it is. We recognize that a nation, a planet, a federation can be both wondrously compassionate and deeply monstrous. “Something is rotten in the state of Denmark.”

Today I watched the second and third episodes of Star Trek: Discovery with trepidation. I crave the bright and hopeful world of the Star Trek that I grew up with. This is not that Star Trek. But maybe we are too old for that one now. Perhaps, we need tales of grimmer things. Perhaps we need to hear tales that explore the Federation’s values and the tightrope act of maintaining them when the universe is not so rosy.
aikaterine: Waterhouse study (sketch)
Capitalist article of faith: "Competition breeds the best service [or product] at the best price." (Quoted from a Reddit user, but regurgitated in one form or another among capitalists everywhere.)

Reality: Most producers and service providers provide just barely adequate products at whatever prices they can get away with. They don't have to run faster than the bear, just faster than the slowest runner. Moreover, the product or service a customer receives is not what the business sold. The business sold an idea. Whether the idea had anything to do with reality is debatable.

Other problematic capitalist concepts: Market forces, free market, supply and demand, comparison shopping.
aikaterine: Waterhouse study (sketch)
I have better things to do than check FB. I want to write a book (or ten). I want to sew. I want to make more friends and do more real world plans with real world people. I want to hike and bike and go on walks. I want to stargaze. I want to sleep. I want to think deep thoughts and have deep conversations. I want to communicate without so much fear of "Big Brother" FB. I want to stop checking for content nigh compulsively. I want to breathe and be and live a bigger life in a bigger world.

None of this is to say that I want to stop using social media. I have friendships that were born out of that. I have expended my world that way. But I want it to be a content driven thing, not something bordering on addiction or compulsion. I want it to be intentional.
aikaterine: Waterhouse study (Default)
When I was in school, I learned about person-first language. For a long time, I went with it. I thought it was great. Sort of. Among my friends, I was still bipolar. It was how I identified when I was among people I was comfortable with.

As much as I tried to transition to calling myself a ‘person with bipolar disorder’, I was never fully capable of embracing it. The closer I got, the more difficult I became to be happy with who I am. Part of that is the word disorder. I don’t see bipolar as a disorder. Being bipolar has never been an all bad proposition. I am wired this way. I have been wired this way for a long damn time. Being wired this way helps me be more creative. It gives me a perspective on the world that isn’t as readily accessible to other people. It influences my every second.

At no point is it an illness. Sometimes, I am ill. Being bipolar makes me more susceptible to being ill. But it shapes my life in wonderful ways as well. And I will not call it a disorder. I will call it a condition. I have a mental health condition. I am on the mood spectrum. Sometimes, I’ll say I have BP. But I don’t call it a disorder because the sword cuts both ways. It blesses as well as burning.

I am re-learning how to talk about ability and disability again. I am re-learning how to see ability and disability again. I am trying to navigate the maze that is biology and identity and see how things line up. For me. For other people. I am trying to learn to ask how someone identifies and refers to themselves and how they would like to be referred to. I'm also trying to navigate the anxiety thing and what to call it and where it fits into my identity and how it is beneficial, if it is even remotely so.
aikaterine: Waterhouse study (Default)
I spend every day battling fear. Or I would like to think that I do. Instead, I run from it. It is said that fear is healthy. It is said that fear protects us and tells us when we should retreat. If so, for me fear is the helicopter parent that won't let me explore the world that I might live in it. I would like to blame fear for all my failures. I would like to claim that it is fear's fault that I am where I am and that I hurt as I hurt. But that would be misattribution. Cowardice, my first resort in near every situation, must bear the blame.

I must learn to look on fear in a different light. It has been my habit to see fear and take it as a sign to run far and fast, to cower in the deepest darkest place I may find. I have come to realize, though, that fear has often signaled something far different in my life. The moments of greatest fear in my life have been the moments when I should act. Fear is another face of opportunity. Fear is another way I tell myself to brace myself, to be strong, to take risks. Fear is my friend, and, as my friend, I should embrace it.
aikaterine: Waterhouse study (Default)
I feel like I know who I am, but I forget from time to time — more like almost every minute of every day — to be that woman, to think and act like her. She scares the crap out of me. She is this incredibly powerful individual. She knows things that boggle my mind. She is responsible, intelligent, compassionate, and capable in ways that scare the living daylights out of me. I worry that I can't live up to her ideals or achieve her goals. I worry that I will disappoint her. I wonder why I feel the need to step out of her and see her as someone else. I discuss her as though she isn't me.

It reminds me of what my psychiatrist said to me about self-talk. If I said the kinds of things to my friends and family that I say to myself, no one would talk to me. If I treated others the way I treat myself, they would disown me. So why do I do it? Why do I treat myself this way? Why do I bury myself and my dreams in something else, someone else? Why am I always running away from my reflection? Why do I divorce myself from my dreams, my ideas, and my beliefs?

Yeah, it's hard to be me. It requires a lot of strength. It requires a perpetual force of will, but it feels so... damn... good when I bother. That's how I know that this is me, that the woman is me and not a dream. When I stand in my own skin, it fits: flawless, skin-tight, like a glove. Maybe, though, if I do it for long enough, it'll become second nature.


aikaterine: Waterhouse study (Default)

October 2017

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