Category Archives: Stories We Are

I have been working on this post for 2 days now and it’s still terrifying me. So. Fair warning.

This is where once again I think more than I show you pretty pictures (although there are some, if I do say so myself) and I dig into the issues which we as polite, happy, “only show the bright side of life” bloggers are supposed to avoid.

This post comes from reading this post, and this one, and this one. Boy, have those posts jarred me. Hit something inside that I didn’t realize I’d been trying to bury. And like a Magic 8 Ball, up it comes floating to the surface and there’s an answer on it to a question I didn’t even let myself realize I’d asked.

I’m over it. *takes big breath*

I’m over the popularity contest of blogging, the mean comments that make me want to hide, the health issues that I skirt over because “no one wants to hear it” (my dad’s words but definitely backed up by 99% of the people I interact with), the sucking void of producing photos and knitting and words and a notion of self and feeling completely invisible while doing so. Will work for peanuts? No, try “will work for comments.” I’m so very over it.

My life is a small life. In kinder moments I also know it is a beautiful life. But I want it to be bigger. I want more beauty. I want to heal from the layer of damage I’ve been applying for years: trying to be relevant and meaningful in a world full of words, trying to be the best that I can but not knowing who I’m trying to impress (you, maybe?), trying to give too much to make this place “real” and “authentic” yet not ugly because although ugliness is real, it certainly shouldn’t be blog fodder! (Says who? I DON’T KNOW!) I have enough damage, truly. I don’t need to add any. And dude, this stuff is exhausting.

I’m over ignoring my limitations and letting my boundaries be too rigid or fluid to be useful. I’m over trying to be hipper and cooler than I actually am. I’m over thinking of others before I think of me. I’m over pretending that faith is a bad word (don’t worry, I vehemently oppose proselytizing but I do wish more people would talk about it – it’s how we learn). I’m an old cat lady in a broken down body. I have worn hipster glasses since the 90s. I’m not “in” or cool or anything other than an exceedingly geeky photographer who knits too much and writes books. That sounds pretty cool to me, damn it.

I’m also VERY over letting my health define me. And that means making choices. I have chosen to keep this space for at least another year and the response to that has been kind (thank you). I’m doing another 365 over at the dying Flickr. (Seriously, what’s up with that? I love Flickr.) I’m doing too much habitual meaningless activities and too little important, vital ones.

Basically, I need to start being who I am as opposed to who anyone else wants me to be. That’s not an issue that stems from my health problems. It’s exacerbated by it, of course. But the issue has existed since I was a wee kidlet and learned that love/friendship came with the price tag of perfection attached. And if you weren’t perfect, self-sacrifice was a worthy currency. How many of us had and still have those relationships? So VERY over that.

So. What this all really means in practical terms? I have NO idea. Will I be sad if only a handful of people comment? Probably. Will I have to remind myself of this particular epiphany? Most definitely. That’s the thing about life, I find. It’s a moment of perfect clarity (eureka!) and then it all goes kind of fuzzy. Habits are easy, automatic. Knowing I’m over it and knowing what to do if I’m not doing falling back onto habits are two different things.

I suppose I can sum it up though. I find myself missing the LiveJournal days when I said what I wanted and got real connection with people. Seriously, two of the most awesome friends I still have I met on LJ. When I went public, I got a little more reticent. I started editing posts before I posted them to make them fit. Fit what? No clue. But basically, if I start talking about my health or God or writing or how I really do not get flash photography, it would be nice if people stuck around. And people out there lurking felt involved. Because it all comes down to why we blog or update Facebook or Instagram or Twitter or email or whatever. Why do we do it? And if those reasons (whatever they are) are important to us, why do we self-consciously edit these things to make them more palatable?

To thine own self be true? Nope. To the internet be true. I’m over it.

So.

Health: really terrible flare. I live in fear that all the random symptoms that revolve around new and scary flares will lead to a new diagnosis. I also live in fear that it’s just the same ol’ thing with new levels of scary ass shit to deal with.

God: I have issues. (Big surprise.) I’ve been scarred and scared by organized religion so my idea of religion and faith is not beautiful. And I am guessing that faith can be very beautiful. If you would like to share, please do. But only if you are able to be respectful in your manner. Proselytizing is forbidden, yo.

Writing: *groan* I want to. My body is having slight issues. My brain, oh boy. I would say that 91.9% of my writing issues can be summed up by one word: FEAR. The rest? Health. Not a viable excuse, self!

Flash Photography: Really, really do not understand it. Got a flash with the Diani Mini and was playing around with it. And all I could think of was: WHY?

So. Yeah. Stuff and nonsense and knitting to come.

To let preconceived notions stop me.
To keep feeling shame for the hurts inflicted upon me by others.
To keep feeling guilt at my inability to be everything to everyone.
To knit things I don’t like.
To apologize for the number of cameras I own (or would like to own).
To listen to mean people.
To let the fear win.
To take the blame for the actions of others.
To hide.
To fail at recovery.
To just survive. I want to thrive.
To give up.
To go too long and force too hard.
To keep being so bad at being sick.
To refuse to rest or relax.
To try and please everyone.
To convince myself I really do like lima beans.
To give in.
To fold.
To fail.
To let lists define who I am. (I like lists.)
To be anything other than the best giant, technicolored, geeky, writerly, yarny, photographoe ME that I can be.
To keep going when I really, really need to stop. (See rest issues.)

As Elizabeth Bennett so memorably says to Lady Catherine in Pride & Prejudice:

“I am only resolved to act in a manner which will constitute my own happiness without reference to you or to any person so wholly unconnected with me.”

She had a point.

What do you refuse?