Sunday, 23 September 2018

A Day of Celebration

I'm cozied up in my bed right now, drinking cider from a stoneware mug and reminiscing on more than two years of blogging here in this section of cyberspace. I recall how much trepidation I had about starting this writing project. How I didn't want to be just another white woman with a blog blah blah blah. How I was encouraged to use my voice anyways, how I learned to be a better ally to QTIPOC folx , how important it is to share stories, and to make space to listen to each other. While blogging can sometimes feel like a one-way conversation, I do get feedback mostly on Facebook and through FB Messenger, and I hear all of you! And what I hear is how similar our shared experiences are. No matter our gender, background, age, beliefs... And it gives me hope to carry on. Not just with writing this blog, but with living. And that, dear readers, is an amazing gift that you've given me. Thank you from the bottom of my heart!

Today is also Bisexual (and Pansexual) Visibility Day! It happens to also be the 20th anniversary of this day! So many celebrations today! The first one was held in Johannesburg, South Africa in Sept 1999.


If you want to know about the history of Bisexual Awareness and Visibility campaigns, I highly suggest that you check out Bisexual History on Facebook. Their writers have a thorough catalogue of all things historically bi!

As I said last year, I identify as Queer - this is partly because I feel like its a better descriptor for me than bi or pan and it also comes with a political bent to it. More and more people understand what queer means now, but sometimes I come across a person that isn't aware that the word has been reclaimed by the community (Qmmunity!) In fact, my city apparently had a bit of an ethical debate over using the term Year of the Queer for the annual Pride festivities. From the article:

And I feel the same as Osmel, that reclaiming the word Queer is an act of power. The word cannot be used against me because I joyously use it to describe myself .😄

However, when people are unaware of what queer means, I often revert to using the term bi because most folx understand what that means (with some rather unhealthy stereotypes thrown in). But then again, this meme captures what often happens:


In fact, it's kind of happened to me in my own home... During one of our fights, Bear accused me of changing sexualities. That is, he shouted/asked me if I told my mother that I am no longer attracted to men. This really bothered me. I may be more of a 4 than a 3 on the Kinsey Scale (if you subscribe to such outdated models of sexuality) but I am still attracted to men. I'm just no longer attracted to him. I still find men attractive, but I'm not looking to start anything new with anyone. No matter what their gender.

Pretty awesome shot of what looks like a falcon or corvid with a yak. From this Flickr account.

 I'm starting to "prepare myself" for the return of Birdfriend and Yak. It's hard to believe that they've been gone for more than five months, out in the wilderness, and hiking more than 2600 miles of the PCT. We've been writing and sending packages to each other, which has made their absence easier to bear. Plus all those messenger chats and video calls - I really appreciate the effort these two have made to stay in contact with me over the miles. And now there's less than a week until they return home! It feels a little unreal. In some ways, I don't feel "ready" for their return. I've had to stuff many of my thoughts and feelings into jars and shelve them for later consideration. But it's been hard to make space for that with all the apartment hunting, selling of my possessions, and cleaning my current residence because it's for sale and my landlady is aggressively showing it to prospective buyers. Then you add ongoing emotional abuse at home and you can understand when I say that my stress level is rather HIGH.

That said, I'm really looking forward to seeing the two of these beasts again! I miss them more than words can say. I am looking forward to reconnecting with my D/s energy again. I have definitely felt the absence of power play and the feel of heated flesh under my palm after giving a good spanking...I know that Birdfriend is also looking forward to reconnecting through play as well. It's been weird for me, sitting out all the kink parties all summer. And Yak....I am looking forward to all the cuddles, laughter, and spiritual connection that being with her brings. I worry that I may turn into a sobbing mess when I seem them both again, like when Birdfriend and Yak left, but I think not somehow. I think that I'm just ready for them to come home. Ready to have them physically near me again, in three dimensions, not just two. I'm organizing them a wee onesie/pj party to celebrate their return. So excited for cuddles!!! I know that all three of us are cuddle-deprived (for various reasons), so it'll be good to have my oxytocin tank refilled. It's damn near empty...

A sweet card that Birdfriend sent me from Oregon. So much love and cuddles!

Monday, 10 September 2018

Let's talk about Mental Health

Since I was in my mid-teens, I've suffered from depression. It's a kind of low-grade, background noise most of the time...something I can drown out with a busy life, keeping my living quarters tidy, and writing. For the past nine or so years though, it's become a louder sound, and much harder to drown out through external world controls. It's like my depression used to be the sound of distant waves on the beach, and slowly, somehow over time I'm standing right next to the shore, and the waves are lapping at my feet. I sometimes feel the suck and pull of the ocean of sadness, wanting to tow me under, and the seductive feel of letting go...

Today is

or so Facebook told me. I've been wanting to write another blog about what's going on in my head, and today seemed like a rather appropriate day to do so. Especially after the epic fight that Bear and I had yesterday.

Depression is an illness that runs in my biological family - my grandfather had it, my uncle had it, my aunt has it, my half-sister has it, and I have it. I do believe in the power of genetics, especially given that I am adopted and my adoptive family doesn't have depression scattered all the way through. When it first came on in my teen years, it was such a bewildering sensation. It seemed to originate from a deep pervasive feeling that I wasn't good enough. I have different hypotheses as to why I felt that way, but for sure, puberty coupled with my father becoming an alcoholic definitely had much to do with it.

As the years went on, I felt bouts of depression come and go but I was mostly able to manage it with some counseling and goal-setting. Until my car accidents... Between November 2009 and May 2011, I experienced three car accidents. The last one, I was actually a cyclist that was struck by a car making an illegal turn at one of the most dangerous intersections in my city (Burrard & Pacific, right before the bridge). These accidents (especially the last one) have altered the way my body functions forever. I know, because it's been 9 years and I'm still in pain and have limitations to how much I can work, and the kind of work I can perform. The sense of personal loss after multiple injuries is something that is hard to describe. It's devastating. It's demotivating. It's terrifying. It's lonely as hell. And you never know how much of your body's functionality you are going to get back. So having faith in the process was difficult.

Almost five years ago, I lost my 19-month old nephew in a horrific car accident a week before Christmas. That loss has affected my family so deeply, we are still grieving to this day. The death of my nephew was senseless, I kind of lost my mind after he died. I couldn't understand how the world could take away such a young kid, before he really had a chance to taste life. And then in September 2014, while I was away traveling in Europe, I found out that my biological uncle (whom I had never met) had committed suicide in his remote cabin in the woods in Ontario. Then, only seven months later, in April 2015, my dad passed away from cancer caused by his alcoholism/addiction to cigarettes. My depression became a tsunami, that swallowed me whole after that. I couldn't focus enough to be effective at work, and so I took three months off to grieve my dad and to try and get my head "in order." It would be accurate to say that I have depression with compounded grief and PTSD trauma from those car accidents and previous sexual assaults. I started taking an antidepressant, starting going to counseling more regularly, focused on doing things that were good for me and let my emotions flow freely so that I wouldn't get somatic problems (aka what my RMT calls "issues in my tissues").


How depression feels to me a lot of the time. Like I am a condensed ball of human flesh, with all the sadness and madness written into my skin for all to see (and judge).

Three years later, I'm through my grief for my dad, and now I'm grieving the loss of my primary relationship. This loss, coupled with some financial woes (f-u Phoenix!) has caused my depression to spiral in the past few months. Plus, not having the major support of my two other relationships around me has made this summer rather hellish in my head. I have been thinking some really dark thoughts lately. It's not an easy thing to admit, let alone to write about and publish online. But it is my reality. And it's awful let me tell you. Living with these thoughts rolling around in my brain is uncomfortable and scary. I have to check my thoughts often and, as in meditation, watch them and try not to judge them, and hopefully let them sail on by. But sometimes, as when ships get caught in a storm, the thoughts cannot be controlled. Sometimes, I am not able to get a hold of the steering wheel and right the ship. Sometimes, I have to let my thoughts pitch and roll over the bubbling sea of my mind and I just have to hang on as hard as I can. Sometimes, I can find my voice and ask for help. Other times, I just cry and cry and feel so exhausted by life. So exhausted by existing. And utterly alone.

That's the worst part about depression, I think. How alone it makes you feel. That loneliness creates a feeling of isolation so complete that death seems like the obvious next step. Which is horrifying. But it's how the depressed brain often thinks. I recall telling my co-workers last year about how when I'm depressed, that I feel like no one in the world at all cares about me. The coworkers promptly changed the subject. Because it was an uncomfortable thought. But it's so real for me. And I just wanted to feel less alone, but changing the subject just made me feel more alone. Readers, if you truly want to make a depressed person feel better, hold their hand and tell them this:


What's been extremely difficult in my primary relationship is that my mental health has been used against me by Bear in arguments. Something that is not only unfair, but also extremely emotionally abusive. My mental health became the main "reason" why we didn't have a child together - something I'm equally happy and sad about. Happy because I'm not subjecting a small child to this separation. Sad because I actually really want to be a mother. It's one thing to have fear about a possible unknown future event, it's another thing to let that fear to control when and if things happen in a relationship. His fear around my depression and suicidal thoughts created a sense of shame in me for being the way I was. But more over, it has became clear that he "cannot handle my mental health issues" (his words, not mine).  And so, I've had to create a boundary now whereby my mental health is no longer a topic up for discussion. I need to feel respected by my partner, no matter if I'm having a good mental health day, or I'm crying in the bathtub and don't know if I can make it through the day. For some good tips on how to support a partner with a mental illness, click here. And remember, having a mental illness is not an excuse to treat someone you love poorly either. Respect goes both ways...

If you are suffering from depression or another mental illness, I personally want to assure you that you are NOT alone. The hardest thing to do is reach out for help, but I promise you that reaching out is not only the thing you MUST learn to do, it is a life-saving action. What I've learned is that many people I know and love have some kind of mental illness or have experienced bouts of it at some point or other in their lives. People do understand, and more and more, workplaces are taking note and providing Employee Assistance Programs (EAPs) and offering training on mental wellness and resiliency. Stigma for mental illness is being tackled with promotional materials, billboards, and days like today, where we as a world acknowledge that suicide is a reality for humanity, and we need to reduce stigma, educate ourselves and each other, and support those who need support. If you need help right now, please reach out for support:

Province-Wide British Columbia, BCCrisis 24 hrs: 1-800-SUICIDE (1-800-784-2433)
http://www.crisislines.bc.ca

And remember, now and always:
From the Sad Ghost Club
Much love to you all.