north country fair

a plethora of tastes: some at the vendor's tents, some on the wind.

i had the strangest fair. i decided not to volunteer, thus being able to spend more time with the queen, who couldn't get a lot of time off work. we camped with the queen's friends way way back in the woods. i ended up hardly seeing my friends at all. basically, the whole structure of my fair changed. add to the changes that i wasn't drinking alcohol (i had one drink per day) and i was camped with some heavy drinkers. it all ended up being kind of weird when compared to pretty much any previous year. i didn't hit up the electronica stage at all, i wasn't backstage, i wasn't at über camp with the LED hippies...

we swam a lot, saw some pretty good bands (maria in the shower) and had a great tent spot way back in the woods, near the river. we fell in love with a thai hut that put love in their food, and sat on the net of a pirate ship to watch hank and lily. we saw eight deer on the way up, and four deer and a fox on the way back (the queen saw an eagle but i didn't catch it). when we swam upstream, further away from most of the folks, i saw a wonderful tiny frog. there were multiple colours of butterfly and the cutest bird with a nest in the grass near our tent - it kept trying to lure us away from its nest by running several feet away and squeaking loudly, like a muppet beep.

still, it was hard. i feel like i am going through a lot of changes, and i don't think i gave myself the support network that i needed. the queen's friends are lovely; some i have met several years ago. but they are his friends, not yet mine. i don't want to be vulnerable around them, which means i spent the whole weekend subtly on guard. the combination of that and the lack of seeing my own friends (i went by über camp several times but only caught brief connections with any of them - it was that weird festival thing where you can be looking for someone at the same time they are looking for you, and thus never see them at all) ended up with me feeling pretty lonely. the queen didn't drink as heavily as some of his friends, but he was still drinking, still on the party train, and i was not. and the thing that made all the difference was that i wanted to be on the party train too. but for some health reasons, it was important that i not do so.

on the last day, we had planned to stay an extra night and then leave really early so the queen could make it into work by noon. but most of his friends were leaving, and i was really tired, so i checked in on leaving early too. he consented, and we agreed to leave around six or seven. at that point, he went off to have a scotch-fueled mud fight, and i went in search of other connections. i wish i had found someone i could have talked to. i think that might have made a difference in the rest of my day. but i didn't. i found someone who had had a very traumatizing fair last year, and who needed to check in. so he checked in, and i helped him ground and uncrinkle. and then we parted ways. i went to visit a woman i know who was giving massage, because i had a wickedly brewing headache. but she was busy. so i went back to camp to lay down, and hopefully nap the headache away. i read for a bit on a blanket i laid in the shade of the car. i tried to nap but the headache got worse. the queen came back, and i checked in on leaving again. we were all packed up. he wanted to visit with his friends some more. a combination of feeling guilty (because his craziest friend wanted us to stay another night and get really wasted with him, and i wanted to go home, and the queen seemed torn) and feeling like absolute shit (it sucks to not party at a party and still feel horrible the last day - all the punishment, none of the sin) made my communication of "i feel ill and would really like to go now" pretty shoddy.

the queen went back to visiting, and i continued to lay down, only now i was crying, which i don't like doing in front of people i don't know. crying gets such weird reactions from people in general; pity, the need to know "why" you're crying, the desire to do something about it... most people don't just let you cry. not that the queen's friends hadn't been nice all weekend and wouldn't have kept being nice if i had cried in front of them, just that i would so much rather cry by myself. it's just easier.

so i cried til he came back, and i cried as he boosted his friends, and i cried as we looked briefly for a friend of mine we were going to give a ride to (who had already left because we came by later than i said we would), and i cried when the queen spoke sharply to me (i think he was annoyed because he felt pressured into leaving his friends quickly; i am still not sure, because the headache made it hard to do anything reasonable like listen or have conversation. but he was definitely upset). and i cried as i tried to explain to him how sorry i was, but i just kind of cracked. too much newness, not enough familiarity, too much trying to keep a 'stiff upper lip' and not enough connections with people i knew deeply enough to share all the real stuff swirling around beneath my surface.

the queen cannot be my only emotional support. generally speaking, the wife is another key figure, but she wasn't there. and of the two people who were there that i could have connected with, one i only saw briefly and the other i didn't see at all. i think if i had been able to share my experience with someone (feeling lonely, not yet connected to the people i was camped with, dealing with health issues and not using alcohol as the usual psychic dampener, trying not to tell the queen i was feeling so ill because that's pretty much all i say to him these days and he has expressed through feedback that he would like to hear about some other things instead of how crappy i am feeling).

once i started crying it was really hard to stop, even though i think it just made the headache worse. i cried for a good chunk of the ride home, and we barely spoke.

twiddle twiddle

i think i need to sit and write, to clear some of the backlog on my mind.

i have neglected to check in with myself. just that inner touch-base that reassures me i am being present, i am taking care of myself and not getting swept up in the desires of others. because sometimes the desires or needs of others come through louder than my own. it can be easy to neglect myself with the knowledge that i will be here later, but this person in front of me may not (they'll go to that elusive 'somewhere else').

in actuality, the other person is no more likely to disappear than i am, if i take a big enough perspective (ie not just in my company, but somewhere in existence). moreover, i probably have more information regarding my own needs than i have for theirs. so jeez already, heal thyself.

but. i have this secret stupid ego thing i used to think of as compassion: that the other person won't listen to themselves and if i don't help them, they won't get help. never mind the countless examples of emotional vampirism, false martyrship and other nauseous hijacking of actual kindness. never mind the road that good intentions paves. never mind all that and let's just look at the hilarity of that thought. me in a cape, saving others from their own emotional inadequacies. awww. what a cartoon. gotta love finding those young-child beliefs we didn't know we've been harbouring all these years that let us make strange and often unhealthy decisions. awww.

then notice how i shortchange other people's abilities to take care of themselves. one wince allowed in general direction of childhood and then look around at smart people i know and sigh (slightly tremulously) in relief.

the lows

oh.

the life of it. will the ocean metaphors ever get tiring? only if those waves stop feeling so choppy. i know there are things i could be doing to help myself feel more even-keel. when i don't, i just end up feeling further victim to the choppy weather.

it's odd, how the fierceness of the depression has nothing to do with how happy i am otherwise. because i am happy. except for the bits where i don't do myself justice. and they're still in me, those impulses to choke myself away from light and love. and maybe we all have them, but. and i survive each time, but. and i know i love myself, but. and i am learning to blah blah blah.

is this because i don't accept some deep imperfect part of me? is it the way i was raised? is there some hidden desire to be loved that will just keep crying for help? is it a chemical unbalance? is it a predisposition, and i keep walking the ruts?

i notice that i feel better faster when i use my body as a key to health. yet... the mind is predictably reluctant. is this the result of generations of hating matter, earth, darkness? or is it just fear left over from a stupid gym class?

don't mind the dragon; she pulls the sun across the horizon. (no no, i'd rather sell my happiness to the guy who says he knows how to do it the easy way. the chump inside my mind who tells me what i can and cannot have.)

sigh. another day, another set of arguments. i need to go underneath the words, listen to what's hiding behind the message, what's holding my jaw. i want to sing this out. but my voice feels unheard.

see ya later, crock-a-gator

one more for some random numbered year!

other blogs i read seem to think they should have a special entry for their last 2009 post. my reaction: "huh?" i still think it's october AND i don't care. i'll be leaving the gnomal environs soon, back to the doghouse, to read and drink warm irish drinks. this, to me, is a regular weekend.

i got the greatest hug ever today, from a will-be shaman. just thought i'd mention. then i had a nap with my buddy c-light. it's interesting how differently physical contact feels when one is not in a physically intimate relationship. it's all "whoa. are you really touching part of my shoulder near my armpit? that feels really awesome." i find relationships often leave me feeling physically drained. i'm not going to analyze that statement, as tempting as it is.

i visited my sweet kitten today. she smells awesome, and looks adorable, and still loves me. can you hear the small church boy calling from the steeple tower? "allll's we-ellllll!" in my world, anyway.

i am thinking about trauma, and trauma in the lives of others. do we help just because we can? i always helped, my ability to do so being the only prerequisite. then i added "they are already, in some way, helping themselves" to that list of necessary conditions. now, having just finished another short story, i wonder. maybe there should not be a list of defining occasions in which i shall help others. maybe i should just leave it up to the decision of the moment.

i think the moment is, in a way, the only time and place we can actually make a decision. so why steal that choice from myself, by enforcing a set of behaviours? i hate the dogma of others. why create my own?

one might say "well, this isn't dogma, it's my values." indeed. and what is the difference? values are guidelines, open to interpretation, whereas dogma is concrete and unbending, an extreme and rigid application of values. there is a difference. still, i now see values as a gateway drug. i think they can get in the way of being honest about what we need in the moment. i think people use 'values' as an excuse to be self-effacing, and to give themselves nightmarish realities.

most people i know don't err on the side of 'not enough values'. maybe not enough understanding of others, but mostly, not enough listening to themselves. there. one last judgment for 2009. listen!!!