Ice Cream and Crying

 I don’t really want to get into what’s happening right now. The storm hasn’t passed and the blubbering that happens when I’m ravaged by emotion makes for something too incomprehensible to clarify for others. Just know that I always thought ice cream and crying was some bullshit that TV and movies invented that doesn’t work (like that weird thing where someone dies and they push the eyelids closed; I tried that with my dog after he died and they don’t close like that, at least not right away. I didn’t try for hours to see if that changed) but, ahem… it works. Even when it’s some shitty keto diet coffee chip ice cream because the nearby store doesn’t carry my Haagen Dazs brand coffee. I didn’t cry until I couldn’t breathe, if only because it’s really hard to eat when you can’t see the spoon.

My cats are worried about me too. They’re following more closely than usual. They can probably feel my higher than usual anxiety. They’re not cuddling or anything but they’ve been keeping me in view all day. When I went to the store, they were right at the door when I came back so I know they waited there the whole time. She-Ra always does it but Seven was there today too.

I’m going to try to explain the facts, sans emotional blubbering. I suspected my sister started using again. Midweek, she came home, talking more rapid than usual. Dad says alcohol but I know better. I can always smell alcohol on her and she’s been avoiding it because she’s on a diet for her liver, which is possibly cirrhotic. Anxiety has been high around here for months, between Dad’s constant restless bitching and my sister going back to work and the boys going back to school, things are changing a lot, maybe too much, and I’ve been trying too hard to be the glue that can’t possibly hold it all together. So I’ve been gravitating back to just trying to hold it together for me and the boys, just hoping I can keep them out of all the bullshit. I want so badly for them to rise above it and be so much better than this.

And that’s where I have to stop because I always get choked up worrying about them. Look, I really don’t know if they know how bad things are. They can probably feel it more than they’re letting on but I really don’t want it to touch them. I hope I can even give them what they need to get out and never look back. Not even for me. Which means I’ve never been expecting an award for doing this, or any repayment for good deeds either. It’s okay to just slip back into the muck as long as I can get them the hell out of it.

I know that sounds bleak but I haven’t given up on me either. I still hope and tread water too, trying to pull my own life together against the odds. But if that means holding my breath and going under to make sure my nephews don’t sink too, that’s where I have to be right now. I just can’t soar high and think they’ll be okay until I can come back for them. There isn’t any leeway for them if I look away for a moment. I can’t trust anyone to put them first. I can’t let them ever think for one moment that they’re in this alone. I’ve been there and even as an adult, it still traumatizes me.

But that’s ultimately why I’m a bleeding-heart liberal. I know how bitter and terrified and bleak it is to be left alone in hell. We can do better for other people. Other people don’t have to suffer just because we did or ‘that’s just the way it is’. That’s not a world I want future generations will ever think of as normal. It’s not normal. I know there are people who put their kids first, families who didn’t abandon them. We can’t sit around and fucking normalize abuse and trauma and pretend like being crippled is just the way we should all be. It’s ‘life is unfair’ when things are bad for someone else and ‘it’s only fair’ when we’re the ones disadvantaged. I care because someone has to. Being a selfish asshole is never okay. 

So… eat ice cream and cry sometimes. I thought I was on the verge of a panic attack or maybe a heart attack but that weight has lifted. Somewhat. I’m at the crux of situations that could get much worse. But all the more reason to start self-care now. When I absolutely have to step in, I know I’m the last resort so I can’t fail. If I make that weight too heavy, I’ll fail too. This isn’t about a prize at the end. My burdens won’t just fall away as I ride a rainbow into utopia. I could suddenly make a million in book sales and it doesn’t change that I’ve got a dysfunctional family and nephews I’m trying to keep well above it. Money just doesn’t change all the pain and challenges. It will never be enough glue to keep the ship afloat. I want to be successful but I’m also very damaged. Being rich and famous won’t make people nicer. People will still be selfish. But damned if I don’t keep looking for those niches, those little pockets of air, to take one long cleansing breath before diving into murky waters again.

Keep. It. Together. Ever wondered why I use the name Kita sometimes? Keep It Together, Always. I can unravel a bit but I’ve gotta gather it up and keep pushing on. 

I Quit!

 Two words that seem so high drama, but lemme assure thee, not quite so serious. I’ve stuck to my resolve to stop using social media. For the most part. I think Quora counts as social media but I mostly use it as a sort of random fact finding rabbit hole, just steering clear of the social-media-esque drama that seems to leak everywhere. It just seems like the easiest platform to avoid the worst of it and still enjoy pop culture and random knowledge tidbits. Although, I should probably use that one less too because…

Procrastination and severe mood swings. Could be some subconscious build-up to turning 40, but I suspect it has more to do with the permeation of spam, ads and poor targeting algorithms aimed at fucking over our already pandemic-assaulted psyches. Ads always seemed full of scammers or ‘maybe you’re too fat’ or religious ads. As for that last one, I don’t know if the algorithm pretend atheism is the same as a religion and they’re all the same or if it’s proselytizing to us poor misguided heathens, but it’s constant and predatory. For every three posts that may or may not be a friend I actually want to hear from, there’s a nail in the head to the self-esteem to knock you down. I tried just going into the Watch category or sticking to groups, but the random stream of videos tended to throw in a depressing one here and there (you like funny cat videos? You’ll love this one of a cat near death that gets healthy again!) or the groups just got catty over politics or identity, the exact opposite of what I want when looking for inspiration or amazing hobby work. 

I… really just don’t want to find the handful of people I care about across the social minefield anymore. There’s this thick poisonous cloud of entitlement to opinion and undeserved ego to find any real grain of truth existing in humanity. People have devolved to insisting they’re telling the ‘truth’ fearlessly and unfiltered, but it’s bullying and posturing on a level you’d never take it to with a stranger in real life because you never know who’s carrying a gun ready to pop you in a sudden rage for saying shit that hateful. People have begun confusing strong emotion for absolute truth. But our realities are overlapping less in these confusing power fantasies online.

Honestly… I’d rather be lonely and isolated in my room than engage in a very unhealthy online popularity contest. One of my real life friends, Matt, has been very vocal about ‘quitting social media’ but I keep seeing this slew of notifications prior to leaving myself and then a blog about “friends” that hurt more than a little. He doesn’t read my blog so he won’t see this anyway. I wanted to reply directly but I couldn’t remember my damn Wordpress login and gave up.

On the upside, he simply called me a friend and not a “friend” as he tore down the others listed. He basically said he wishes we talked more (sentiment shared) but is still bitter that I agreed with another “friend” that he was too negative. He was. And is. And I know depression is selfish because I’ve been extremely depressed over the course of the last year. Fucking hell, that means I absolutely cannot fucking let the blind lead me, the also-blind. We would walk each other off of a cliff so he can be mad at me, but I can’t help him; I do not have the strength to handle rejection. I’m old-hat when it comes to depression, which means I know how common it is to either avoid people or push them away like an asshole. I’ve learned to do the former because the latter always makes it worse. You end up on the asking forgiveness step of a 12 step program when you regret what a monstrous ass you’ve been. I just have to hope he figures that out because I cannot reach out. A strong wind could scatter me right now. I cannot mentally handle being told I’m not enough or how to make someone feel better.

I don’t want anyone to worry reading this. I know when I’ve reached critical point and I know it means an emergency room visit and possibly a psych ward stay. It’s been years but I know the signs. When I get too numb or start fantasizing about death or saying goodbye, I go get checked. I know I can’t get better on my own and need medication. This isn’t a fault I can help or blame myself for. It’s a chemical overload and it takes a chemical kick. I politely tell the doctors I do not want talk therapy, which makes it worse because it’s not triggered by rational thought. I would have to invent something that makes sense to them, when I honestly never know what triggered it. I’ve been confused by it since I was a preteen and it’s not more clear to me now. It might have been accelerated by traumas but the triggers don’t make sense. I can be perfectly happy and suddenly slammed with an irrational anxiety.

I didn’t mean to make this a mental health post though. I feel like sometimes I’m more honest because I used to feel like no one felt like I do but know that other people’s honesty helped me realize that’s not true at all. Modern times have screwed up a lot of people. People aren’t coping with the speed of change or how fast we’ve outgrown an outdated history. Technology and especially social media used to be an exciting haven of discovery but became toxic with all the posturing and ‘honesty’. We are being less honest.

So that’s why I quit. I want to say yes to a normal life again. I want a healthy body and a healthy mind. I was getting very, very sick and I’ve had to make some drastic but very gentle changes. I am still fragile but I’m finding strength in my habits and plans.

Be a quitter too, if you’re ready. You might find that you are more yourself, more honest, when you’re not fishing for online approval. Connecting with people or passions more in the present. We need to share reality again, but we can’t do that solely in virtual spaces. There is no courage stronger than looking into each other’s eyes and using our mouths and spoken words, our tones and inflections, to truly speak. 

There’s hope. In balance, in compromise, in progress. Reach for it. Heal yourself and heal each other.