improperlyhuman: (Default)
Photobucket has stopped hosting the main image I use on my blog, the Magritte painting, so that's gone. Too much effort to re-upload it. No, it isn't too much effort; it's that I feel stupid being so involved as to bother re-uploading it. Even healthy levels of involvement make me feel stupid sometimes. Involvement presents vulnerability to disappointment. Disappointment is not even relevant to re-uploading an image, but withdrawing from involvement has become compulsive; that's why it's a problem.

Focus on the positive. I finally ordered a new saddle for my bike today. I've been having pain in my groin and backside while riding. Dammit, I tried, I tried so hard to find a saddle that's manufactured in the U.S. or at least a non-sweatshop country. I was really impressed with Sqlab, so I finally ordered from them. The company is German; I don't know where their saddles are manufactured. No one answered my email.

One hundred and sixty-nine dollars. This saddle better be like sitting on air.

Tomorrow is bridge night and I'm excited!

I lifted yesterday evening, first time in a week or so. I hardly lifted anything, only squatted up to 75 lbs., yet my thighs are sore today. Maybe its the reps that made me sore. I squatted the empty barbell for 30 reps, only 3 reps on the 75 lbs. Goin' for endurance.

I feel so freakin weak. I miss lifting heavy. I miss knowing that I can pick up damn near anything a person would ever need to pick up. This is the price I pay to have the body I want. I saw a female cyclist while I was searching for saddles and she had the body I want. I was inspired. Maybe that's not the right word. Heartened. People who lift do not have the body I want. And I'm thinner now and find dieting easier. So my path is clear.

I guess I still am strong enough to pick up damn near anything a person would ever need to pick up. People don't usually need to lift more than sixty or so pounds at a time. I just wanna Hulk out.

I don't enjoy squatting for endurance. When I squat I hold my breath to brace my abs. Combined with the many reps, this quickly puts me out of breath.

I'm discouraged about being a clarinetist. I haven't been motivated to pick up the instrument for the past few days. My guests have thrown me off what passed for my schedule.

Discouraged about finding housing and worried that I'll have to put it off because my sister may not be able to move with me and keep her job. I made sure she got on the waiting list for a nearby shelter. She can't stay with me. My nephew's elocution is grating.

I need work on handling emotions, mine but especially others'. I would rather do without than ask for something that may upset someone even a little. I don't want to ask my neighbor to move her stuff so that my sister can use my half of the storage space. My dislike of talking comes into play as well.

I've also noticed that I tend to expect people to not give me what I want, thereby killing my own motivation to ask. And if they say no or even seem hesitant to grant my wish, I feel stupid and berate myself for my involvement no matter how much I needed what I asked for. I even feel kind of off even if they say yes. Madness.

I'm starting my first course in about five days. It's called Grammar and Mechanics or something like that. I'm irritated that one of the mandatory textbooks is A Writer's Guide, which was a required textbook for my freshman English class in college! It seems too basic to waste thirty dollars on. Well. It's been through several editions since then; maybe it offers more now. And a little refresher won't hurt.

Another required text is this hokey Grammar for Dummies type book called Woe is I. Bestselling non-fiction is bound to be geared towards idiots. It has cutesy section titles to amuse readers who have the learning style of a child. All this extra bullshit is actually a barrier to learning for me. I'm flipping through it now and the contents look pretty damn basic. This book at least was only seven dollars on ebay.

I have to get out of here! so that I at least have the chance to go on dates. The cold is coming and still no heater. I'm getting desperate and considering moving to Sacramento. Being surrounded by concrete will be depressing, but I'll be able to cycle round the river and stuff at least. I hate being at the mercy of other people in my choice of a home. Hate it beyond words.

improperlyhuman: (Default)
I was crestfallen today after finding out that the apartment I wanted had already been taken (and nearly a week before!). I felt panic begin to lick at me like the incoming tide licks at one's feet: did my housing coordinator get my message and call for me? Why hasn't my social worker responded to my emails? I feel anxious without that support network. Yet waiting on them can cause me to miss opportunities. So I have to decide whether to wait for their help or call myself (which, I fear, makes me vulnerable to discrimination).

A few months ago I put "female cutting" into the Youtube search engine and received a most unfortunate result. I was looking for fitness+dieting regimens but ended up faced with an image of a screaming child and videos about FGM. Of course it got stuck in my head.

It's gotten worse in the past week or two. I think about being cut. I imagine scissors and even sharpened pencils used on me. I imagine the pain (as best I can). I cut myself shaving once and sort of extrapolate from there. Sometimes these thoughts intrude even while I'm masturbating.

I think about other disturbing things happening to me as well. Yesterday I was outside reading when I had another intrusive FGM thought, and I also got a clear grasp on  why I have these intrusive thoughts. It's related to the Enneagram type 5 fear of engulfment. I'm afraid that I won't be able to recover psychologically if something awful happens to me. I'm afraid of being overwhelmed by my emotional reactions, afraid of being unable to go on living with whatever demons I might pick up from a traumatic experience.

So I've spent much of my mental life trying to toughen myself up. At some point I unconsciously decided that imagining awful things would somehow help prepare me to deal with them. And I've been practicing endlessly, with all manner of situations: everything from failed dates to being tortured. Whenever I get news about something horrible someone is doing to someone else, I'm quick to incorporate that into my self-innoculating fantasies (is that the right word?). The thought that some kind of abuse exists for which I have not yet mentally prepared myself is anxiety-provoking. I have to be ready.

The likelihood that any particular calamity will befall me doesn't determine what gets stuck in my head. The main factor seems to be how strongly I identify with the victim(s), how concerned I am with their particular plight. So female-specific violence is high on the list of fears, even female-specific violence that is alien to this culture/region. I have pretty much zero racial identification, so I'm not at all concerned with racially motivated violence and hardly even consider racial job discrimination. 

This fear of engulfment represents a lack of confidence in my own psychological resourcefulness, and it isn't entirely unrealistic. It seems related to this empty core schizoid phenomenon—having little social support renders the individual psych weaker than it would otherwise be. So the solution—or a big part of it, at least—seems to be the same solution I've come to in several other matters: I must increase my social support. These intrusive thoughts, however, are so unconscious and ingrained that I fear increased social support won't dispel them.

Another thing that seems to help strengthen the core is fuller engagement with life in general—the act of living fills the mind and leaves no room for unrealistic and non-immediate fears. The simple act of successfully negotiating a variety of situations, even workaday situations, creates self-confidence.
improperlyhuman: (Default)
I like to see eye-to-eye.

I like physical intimacy.

That's about it.

Eating foods I like makes dieting easy. Yesterday I pioneered a little brushetta pizza of only 200 or so calories, yet it is satisfying because I love pizza.

The neighbors were playing loud music this evening. I decided to try to deal with it instead of going to complain or just fuming here in the apartment.

I got a new bag of buckwheat hulls yesterday and re-filled my pillowcase today. I'm hoping to sleep better.

I found another apartment in my last town so here I go again on the rollercoaster of hope. Sooooo many apartments available in the cities, yet I can envision myself depressed, overstimulated, and afraid to walk alone late at night if I give up and move there.

I stopped drinking oceans of water and bedtime (without the thirst headaches I'd feared), so now I sleep through the night much more easily.
improperlyhuman: (dark Mulder)
I asked her out twice. She finally responded to me yesterday but did not answer, so I asked her more directly. The logistics many not even work out. I have no affordable way out of town on weekends and she just got a new full-time job. Still, I hope she says yes because I likely won't find another person like her. We've only exchanged a few messages, yet the mere thought of going through this with another person makes me tired.

On craigslist I found a couple of nice cottages for rent out in the country, but my housing coordinator doesn't work on Fridays. I left a voicemail asking her to call for me. Someone with a car, more money, and no aversion to phone calls may have beat me to these places by Monday. Oh, one ad did include an email address, so I emailed the contact person. I hate having to ask people whether they will accept Section 8.

I have been indulging my desire for psychology books. Right now I'm reading Our Inner Conflicts by Karen Horney, M.D. (what the hell is a medical doctor doing practicing psychoanalysis?)  It is about "neuroses," and three early chapters describe the three components—moving towards people, moving against people, and moving away from people. Guess which one describes our heroine. Moving away from people is amazingly similar to Enneagram type 5 dynamics.

Of course, my mental life is not messed up enough to qualify as a "neurosis." The neurotic is supposedly willfully blind to the mechanics of her neurosis and will fight tooth and nail to remain so, all for the purpose of maintaining her way of life and avoiding being split in two by her conflicting drives. This awful feeling of social ambivalence I have, I think this must be what the splitting feels like—moving both toward and away from people. I'm reading a lot of these books to figure out what to do about it.

Interesting that typology and psychoanalysis have been more helpful to me than mainstream psychology. Type 5 and Horney's neurotic trend are so spot on, it's almost scary. The INTP personality type is pretty accurate as well. This might be because they describe traits that can exist in a mentally healthy person—a spectrum of functioning—rather than straight up dysfunction.

Today I did laundry in the bathtub and made a trip to the hardware and grocery stores. I was going to start walking again this evening, but I decided I'd better first see whether those chores/errands make me tired tomorrow.

I don't wanna go to bed!

I'm still jerking myself awake with intrusive thoughts. This is what I need to work on next.

improperlyhuman: (Default)
I am a copyeditor. I can clearly see that I chose the most appropriate editing specialty: I don't have quite the attention to detail required for proofreading, and substantive editing is exhausting. I know it's exhausting because I end up having to do it with every one of my clients.

The endless awkwardly and ambiguously phrased sentences! My goodness. I find myself sinking so deeply into the morass of bad English that I temporarily forget proper usage. Copyeditors are supposed to focus on details like punctuation and proper usage, not re-writing whole sentences. The cherry on top is the balance between re-writing and maintaining the author's writing style. 

And the cherry on top of that cherry is that I'm being underpaid. My rate is for copyediting; substantive editing commands a higher rate. I don't want to rock the boat by asking my client to increase my rate, however. I need to get into the habit of reviewing documents more closely before I take jobs. That way, I can tell whether substantive editing will be necessary.

So editing this 7,000 word document is taking an inordinate amount of time (normally I'd finish this within two days). I simply don't have the cognitive energy to re-word much IT content each day, and that has nothing to do with my ongoing fatigue problem. Oh well. I'm making hundreds of dollars on this contract, the second most lucrative I've ever had.

I received my new back brush yesterday and used it for the first time today! It's a sturdy, one-piece affair with satisfiably firm bristles. I scrubbed for a long time but the center of my back was still dirty after I got out of the shower. I guess scrubbing away weeks' worth of grime takes time.

I'm frustrated and worried about my lack of housing options. I re-considered moving back to Santa Cruz county, but I doubt I can bear the logistics. The local VA must have room for me in their program, and I'd have to find someone willing to rent to me before I transferred the voucher, without the assistance of the housing coordinator because she doesn't work with that county. So I'd probably have to travel all the way to Santa Cruz county at least once and stay at least one day because it's too far away/public transportation is too disjointed for me to make the last trip back into town.

The small towns in that county are wealthy and snow white and I have zero confidence that I'd manage to convince anyone to rent to me. I don't want to live in the city of Santa Cruz because the crime rate is too high.
improperlyhuman: (Default)
I hope. For how long, I don't know. I called a shelter in the town I had my campsites in when I was homeless. They had space in the emergency family shelter, so I 
gave them my sister's name and let her know to show up. I don't know how it turned out and I'm afraid to text her and ask. 

She called me today and told me she couldn't open a checking account because she had no money and couldn't get a payday advance loan because she had no checking account! And a few other details that further solidified my impression that she's totally failing at homelessness. I was so frustrated, I could hardly concentrate on my work. I was doing a trial editing job for a new potential client. I still can't figure out how someone with so much income got so behind on a mere $75 monthly storage payment, and why she would then decide to pay it all off at once, leaving herself no gas money!

So I don't want to find out what happened because I don't want to return to that state of worry just before bedtime. She may have gone to bed already anyhow.

Ooooh! I finally got my housing coordinator's info and called her about the apartment I found on craigslist. Sooooo excited. She called the contact person for me but had to leave a message; however, she has contacts and said she would ask around the town to see if she could get any more information about the place and possibly drive by and take a look at it! Awesome. I used to think I wasted my time in the military, but it's turned out to be pretty much the most valuable thing I ever did. Vets get a lot of great services.

OMG. That person I've been talking to on OkC has sent me another message. I'm scared to read it. Procrastination with respect to anything that may cause an emotional reaction, that's me. That's Enneagram type 5. I just have to force myself to do things. Once I do, I sometimes wish I hadn't waited so long (especially when it comes to work).

Whew. Everything was fine. I'm super excited about meeting her. We've been talking about going hiking. Now that I'll have some transportation money, the main problem is my ability to physically handle hours on public transportation.

I have a doctor's appointment tomorrow and I don't want to go. I waited until the last minute and then didn't cancel because I kept thinking that maybe the doctor would be able to do something for me. Like that sleep study. Then at least my sleeping problems would be documented. But I kinda feel that I'm just clutching at straws. I know I'll have to fix this myself, and really, what good will documented insomnia do me? I don't expect the sleep study center to find that I have any other problem.

I went walking for about one and a quarter hours this evening. Surely I can do something as easy as walking without feeling exhausted tomorrow. We'll see.

So I guess I'll need information on intrusive thoughts and maybe CBT or something for my insomnia.

I have like no appetite lately.

Page generated Oct. 19th, 2017 06:15 pm
Powered by Dreamwidth Studios