winterkoninkje: shadowcrane (clean) (Default)

At the beginning of the year I decided to try writing more regularly. For a while things went as planned, but the last few weeks have been sparse. Been dealing with some stuff, and since announcing I’ve accepted the job at Google —or actually, since announcing I was on the job market last fall— I’ve been reluctant to talk about my crazy. I feel hypocritical about it. I know I shouldn’t; most folks don’t talk. But of course, that’s why I feel like a hypocrite. I go on about being open and trying to normalize mental illness, but then when it really matters I go and hide in the closet like everyone else afraid for their jobs. Plus, part of me is all I don’t want to be just another whiny brat on the internet. I know this comes from internalized saneism and puritanical stoicism and all the other repressive shit that makes me want to speak out in the first place, but still, the knowing doesn’t help so much as I’d like for deconstructing that internalized selfhate.

Aside from the internal turmoil, things’ve been going well. (Which, again, makes me feel like shit: for bitching when “I have it good”.) Me and L have been getting shit done in prep for moving out to Mountain View or wherever thereabouts. Been making progress on getting my dissertation rolling again. And finally completed my old task on Hakaru, so now I can move on to new / more interesting stuff with the overall project. Our anniversary is coming up, and we’ve planned our trip. We got our taxes done last weekend and’ll be getting a sizeable return, which’ll help for covering all the incidentals with moving. (Google does cover moving expenses, but those’re payed out on the first paycheck which will, of course, come after we’ve moved.) I went and saw an OT last week re getting splints; got some plastic ones to try out for a bit to be sure they help / are what I want: they do, and are. The followup appointment is scheduled this week for taking measurements to get them ordered, will post pics once they arrive :)

Talking with my therapist last time he asked an interesting question, asked about my experiences of “loss”. At first I didn’t have much to say, couldn’t really think of any. But the more I thought the more came out. I’d never really reflected on loss before. When something pervades so much of your life, you stop noticing it after a while; what use is reflecting on a word that describes the ubiquitous? But I’ve had a lot of it lately, stupid little things mostly (there I go minimizing again) but stupid little things that’ve stirred up bigger beasts from the past. I could say more, but what would it help? I've already talked a bit about my drawing (and my mother, and mortality). Suppose I could spend the next couple posts fleshing out other bits, giving them more time than I really feel up to today. We'll see.

April 2017

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