mizarchivist

Kat-the-therapist commented today, that for all I am a bit of an iconoclast, I have some very emphatic streaks of TRADITION.

Context.
Young-me looked at her parents and assumed they were pretty much perfect and that it was my job to embody the best traits in them. My mother: empathy, nurture, creativity, and enthusiasm. My father: problem-solving and practicality. Above all: financial independence. Someone who could plan for the future, use the stock market to enrich my nest-egg, and don't rack up debt. But also, share all resources in joint accounts. Failure on this part was akin to moral failing.  My adult life has included:

• Moving to the east coast, to a city notorious for being an expensive place to live.
  
  • Parents moved Back Home because this very town was too much in the 70s. The 90s and Aughts haven't been an improvement. Buying a house happened there by default, because that's What You Do. The only way I/we managed this was with shared resources and living familial inheritance
• My professional training and choice of long term employer => also not hugely profitable.
  
  • Dad at least: CFO, business-savvy person. He has multiple degrees, one of which was an MBA.He figured out this whole "stock market" thingy decades ago. Mom followed his lead and this seems to have worked for both of them.
• My spouse's profession: full of boom/bust uncertainty and several demons to stare down that made financial security pretty much an unattainable dream until the demons could be exorcised and new paths established.
  
  • While there certainly have been challenges, there's some super-power situation happening here for sure. Demons they both have, but their coping mechanisms are the opposite of spending money.
• The national landscape in the intervening years since my parents were at my spot of adult-ness gone on to make even the most resourceful of us stagger and struggle, with leadership and culture that gaslights the crap out of all of us for feeling less-than.
  • My parents are Baby-boomers and have ever experienced an actual living wage, mostly predictable employment. See also, super-powers.

All this means that the bit where I am terrified to spend money and actively avoid doing so whenever possible, and fear of accepting help, because DAMMIT, I should be able to do this by myself. That I've already used up all my good will decades ago and one more bit of help would likely break everything and set everything on fire. Also, moral failure. Remember that bit? Super much that. A failure to be an adult and human.

OK- I think you've managed to infer that I've realized that this basic assumption is not remotely healthy and that the goal entirely unattainable with the parameters set.  And so now I know. And see bit about excellent therapist helping me work through this stuff.

And if that's not enough for one go, here's the other half....

I'm a poly queer woman. The person I married in 1998 identified as a queer cis-male. And then she came out 4 years and 1 week and 1 day ago. (Sept 5, 2015). In some back part of my brain, the same one that equates personal financial turmoil with moral failing also figures that someone who is queer should be able to roll with this diametric change. I'm queer, right? I like people! Yeah. And I prefer masc-presenting. Always have. Ask lifecollage about that time we were in Uno's following the sad demise of Shadowfax, the cat. Ruby Rose, Jason Momoa: if we're shooting for the stars, those are the archetypes that stop me in my tracks and make me forget my name. But here I am, in this place where in order to be the best ally, spouse, and queer, I needed to embrace the ultimate in femme. Or at least that's what I had decided.

If my self-worth as a queer woman was wrapped up in successfully including this aspect of attraction, let me tell you how hard I've been failing. And it has been killing me. Slowly. Genuine proclamations of love and affection would make me feel uncomfortable and like a fake. I would feel like I had no right to ask for more things, for what I really wanted. It was too much and unreasonable and not going to happen.

Please note again: past tense. Not very long past but past.  About 2 weeks ago I was able to express my fear and anxiety on this point to Jaime directly and she promised me that it was OK. I was not required to reflect with the same flavor and intensity the feelz. Did I want to continue on domestically as we are? YES. For sure yes. OK, then. Do I love her? Oh yes. OK, then! Nesties. And so I'm working through.

...Brain meat in this case.
So, I have a new therapist, as I've probably said lately, but not elaborated on.
I'm seeing her once a week at a set time, which previously I'd avoided a set time because I wanted the option of having flexibility. Reframing it, though- I'm prioritizing therapy that I'm making everything else fit around IT.

Some exposition- (My last 14 months...)
Therapist 1: I'd had the same therapist for at least 7 years and whom I dearly love, but maybe felt like talking to Aunty rather than working through and resolving stuff. Tons of validation, but either I was immune to her observations OR she wasn't as pushy as all that. Maybe that's what I needed to survive at the time. Anyway- after a certain point last spring, I realized it was time to move on, helped by the bit where getting to her was no longer remotely convenient.
Therapist 2: I loved her. Did EMDR, helped me find a way through quitting the last job. Then insurance changed and she was no longer a sustainable option.
Therapist 3: Not a good fit. I maybe tried to make it work for too long, but the fact that I didn't look forward to seeing her and wasn't comfortable with the outcome and it just wasn't meshing. So, I parted ways with her a few months ago.
Therapist 4: Takes my insurance, seeing new patients, is in a place I can get to.... and within the first 2 sessions, was clearly not a good fit. Too nice, too passive. I said so right away and she recommended someone else in the practice who does EMDR and is way more assertive/in your face with methodology. Yes, please. Let's do that.

Current Therapist (K): I feel like I leave a session with homework that I can't not do. It's always a question of some sort, Why do I... [fill in the blank]. I will stop short in the session and not know why I do that. Clearly I need to think more about that, then we talk the next week about it.  We're still in the getting to know you stage. She isn't a parent and her default settings are monogamous rather than poly, but she's young and agile in her sense of the world so I'm willing to carry the water to help her see my POV. She recommended some exposure therapy, which I was at first super excited about then realized how NOT READY I actually was, and so I've had to get comfortable with not being ready and just being patient with myself.

A realization I had after this last week's session was that I rush into conversations or choices mostly because it feels uncomfortable to be in limbo. I want to get it over with. Sitting with the discomfort and seeing how I feel after a few hours or maybe a day or two? Oh god. I'd rather not. Except rushing a decision brings on its own problems which are often MUCH MUCH worse than the discomfort. And it's hilarious that I'm trying to teach my 8 year old this, but haven't actually figured it out. Irony, thy name is being human. So, I am working on the idea of being OK with being uncomfortable and not knowing for a while. I am trying to be more mindful of who I talk to in order to work through my thoughts. I know I need to talk to someone. That's how I think. But making sure they're removed from the situation is pretty key. I'm grateful that I have choices on this pretty much in all situations (to date). I also need to be much more realistic that therapy day is going to wipe me out a bit and to not expect a ton of capacity. Hopefully I'll get more resilient as I go. I'm exercising my brain that is not used to these maneuvers. Of course it hurts.

Fast forward to today-- I got to meet the new curator here at work. She's amazing. The act of meeting her energized me and I feel more optimistic and interested in doing stuff. It reinforces the thing I realized a while ago but know about myself emphatically now: I am not supposed to work by myself. I need to work with a group or team. Otherwise I just stop caring real fast. It might be a special circumstance because I'm essentially treading water here and I'm not authorized to do major changes. I'm mostly grateful that I know this about myself and I can advocate better with this info. 

Anyway- that's the latest. I'm extra thinky about it because of the re-energized-ness.

*Buffy reference: "Double-Meat Palace," Season 6, Ep 12

I wrote this in my notebook on 7/15.
I've not read it since, and now I'm going to transcribe it.

For so long I've tried to fit what outside expectations wanted, or what I perceived as wanted. It's an impossible situation and my hyper-vigilance cuts away at one rather than protects. Instead of being accommodating on what is voluntarily offered, I need to say what I want, what I need and trust the relationship I have established to be strong enough to withstand perceived selfishness: a cardinal sin in my head, apparently.

Too much Aaron Burr and not enough Hamilton. Waiting for permission and not planning to seek forgiveness. Add that up and I am afraid of putting myself out there and being unapologetically myself and... what .... hoping for the best.

I look in at myself and I'm relentless with criticism on how I look, and how I get through: with parenting, friend-ing, loving, working... Sometimes I feel eaten by resentment, anxiety, and fear til I'm a wraith of myself. I hold my breath trying to control my feelings til I hurt, ache and feel like I will shatter from the pressure. It latches in and lingers and it won't just slope off and leave me alone. But god.

I'm so tired of how much of a struggle it is.
As the Program says: " If you can't manage more just do one day at a time, one minute at a time. If you have to: one breath at a time. Let that be enough. It doesn't have to be perfect. Just start.

But I want to be wanted for who I actually am- Not what I am expected to be. I don't want to apologize for my enthusiasm and skills and deficits. I want to work with people towards shared goals. I want to have collaborative work and learn from those around me. Less bullshit and more trust.

Do I not want the current job opportunity because it feels like a thing that will make my family's life harder or because I genuinely don't want it. I've been hurt and scared and trying to fit into the space I am invited into- that the idea of taking any spot is terrifying and I can't see it when it's offered. It'll never be perfect. It might get great if I put myself into it though.
----------------------
And now, 3+ days later, I feel better than this.

Instead of having internal worry, I have external. Looking at the world and wondering how we can get through this new level of toxic. I guess one breath at a time.

:/

I just got out from what I have been considering an emotional thunder storm. Cue Tom Waits. "High tonight, low tomorrow, and precipitation is expected..."

I felt it coming on Saturday during breakfast (not the first time it settles on me, actually- hm...)  It presents itself in a generalized anxiety, where I'm quite certain that I've fucked up something and I'm waiting for those around me to call me out for it. That I'm not enough. That I'm a disappointment. That I'm not interesting or worth others' efforts. That I should just get over it and that certainly everyone is tired of me not being more resilient and they're just trying to find a way to tell me to please stop being so much of a drain on them. That I'm not trying hard enough and just wallowing in my own anxiety.  I'm selfish and self-centered and don't leave room for others to have an experience of their own without me making it about me. Oh, also I'm deeply out of shape and I'll never get back to where I was, and being where I was is the only mark of "success," and that the only thing I want to eat is sugar, but that is compounding my waistline/clothes ill fitting situation - see previous bit of feeling like I'm a failure.

Do I believe this once I'm out of that storm, why no I do not. At least not in a driving way, I might just have residual feels true around some stuff. Maybe. 

It is stunning how much better I feel better today than yesterday, and I thought yesterday was so much better than Sunday.  And the big take away is: keep taking regular meds, pain meds, have healthy food, and just sleep on it. The difference between last night and tonight is stunning. Now that I'm not just struggling to stay upright, I want to see if I can't dig up a few more leads for Better Therapist Options. I don't really like or connect w the current one. I'd like to find someone who can help me weather these storms and find ways to make them maybe less huge. And/or talk to PCP (also need to find a new one of those b/c mine's leaving the state )about a better plan for rescue med applications.

In the meantime, I'm thinking about my work situation- yesterday in the last throes of the storm, it felt pointless and why was I bothering, today not at all. I'm a temp. I don't know if they'll choose me to be permanent in any regard, much less as the new head of special collections. The tech debt here is huge. The rep and collections are going to pull a lot of candidates- it's an opportunity that comes around, well, once every 15-25 years, pretty much. Folks tend not to let go of being in charge of this kind of fiefdom quickly or easily.  I need to embrace the now of the work. Not worry about the long term. I can do some small good while I'm here, if it's 3-6 months or 3-6 years.  I'm hoping to at least land an interview for the position I've applied for. I would like to share my perspective that the role could go in two very different ways. Do they want someone who wants subject expertise or would they prefer someone with professional standards expertise? Do they think they can get both? If so- goooood for them. I am NOT going to be a subject expert, but I know small staffed, but ambitioned collections. I know how to shift things from The Old Way Of Doing Things to something that's maybe a bit more in line with current standards and practices. But you can't get there without serious buy-in and support. And that's not up to me at all.  I hope I can share this POV.

OK- I'm impatient to wrap this up and do some of this mythic paid work....

I've started temping in an archive setting- my first proper gig I've landed that depends on me being an archivist. The first NEW archive gig I've had since I was on the eve of my 25th birthday. Back then, I didn't have enough experience to fall back on to know what to do next, how to do anything beyond flail very poorly and be stuck a lot of the time. Now? It's soothing, easy. I know how to look for resources for a reference question. I can process for hours, most of the day and the greatest impediment to continuing is that my legs/hips are tired from standing. I have a lot of projects I'd like to do, but not sure how much leeway I'll have to do so. It IS only the dawn of my 4th day there, after all.

What is startling is how similar this place is to what I left. What is startling is it feels like where they are now is not even quite where I started in the old place 19 years ago. The person who runs the collection reminds me SO much of my dearly departed boss, but somehow moreso even. Given different person /background, and I'm almost 20 years older to see the  nuance. 

It is so so so so so soooo good to be able to use my skills in a new place. I am pretty much stress-free, calm, and energized. We'll see what happens next. I do know that if I'm able to apply even 20% of my capacity as a trained information professional, I will have done good things. I can now say 100% to the weasels who tell me I'd never have made it outside that one small pond, that they are quite wrong. I've got skills. I'm not a failure. I mostly knew that, but for real the imposter syndrome beast has shrunk like the fear demon in Buffy season 4 down to a garden gnome size.

I guess being 44 is alright (also happy birthday to me +1)

State of Brain-
I had a moment yesterday where I was just so SAD and forlorn and lonely. I missed my old coworkers and felt very disconnected at this temp job I have been at for the last week+ (more on that in a moment). It was awkward and uncomfortable, and my instinct in that moment is to find comfort, which I found in the coworker who left for a new job same time I noped out of the old job. I felt like I got my sense of perspective back. That the discomfort of the moment was disproportionate to the moment, and that it's ok to have that moment, but also not to lose the perspective.  It was a relief to navigate that without tumbling into a spiral of despair.

WORK!

• exposition- So, yeah! Temp job. It didn't make sense to try to find a gig before Arisia. I mean- it might have been a bad strategic choice from a purely economic POV, but emotionally- worth it. Got to spend most of a week with my mom after that, and then dove into this very temp gig through an agency. I got a call on a Wednesday and started the next morning. Yipes! 
• the day to day-
  
  • It's a receptionist gig in a real estate office in downtown Boston. I make sure the kitchen stays stocked, the phone is answered, conference rooms are booked, and mail distributed. In the vein of Good Eats: I said it was good, not fast: It's within my capacity but has a fair bit to keep track of. But there's documentation and everyone here is very low-key. It helps that expectations for me are pretty low. Those who keep track of me know I'm just there til they find a permanent replacement. I'm polite, attentive, and take correction with grace, ask questions if I need to, and assume everything will work out alright.
  • I'm enjoying this foray into femme armor as part of my routine- I put on makeup and have been doing my nails. Even fun shoes/clothes! It's important that I remember it's really just for me. The others in this office do not notice. At all. ::shrug:: 
  • Being in this public space for the whole day, but not talking to many people or having too many things to do in any given hour is more wearing than I would have imagined. By the time I get home I need to recover from... being ready to be cheerful and helpful at people for many hours at a time. Huh. I certainly have a LOT more empathy for ursa_cerulean and her retail fatigue. Sympathy I had before, but now... no really. I get it.
• lessons learned-
  
  • do not say yes to the gig until you know damn well what the hours are. I'm currently on the 8:30-5:30 shift and not much/any real flexibility about that, as I'm the primary phone answerer. It's a "carry phone with you at all times" while I'm on deck situation. It means I can't do pick up or drop off for the kiddo, and while I do have 3 other adults in the house, it feels gross not being doing my usual 50% of that.
  • I'm hoping to prove I can show up and do the work and maybe land a slightly more interesting temp gig next. Hoping for a few more dollars, lower requirement for strict hours kept, and would like a few more projects to break up my day.
  • I need to keep on this track of No Strings Attached work. I need to recalibrate what normal is, what my limits are. How to stay less emotionally invested in the work. I spent so much time being overly attached and not being rewarded for my efforts at all. I am interested in continuing a survey of general office cultures, getting first hand experience of how things could be or might be. I can't undo 2 decades of exceptionally skewed and not terribly healthy interpersonal as my default professional environment.
  • I am still wrestling with the possible loss of a job that has "archivist" in the title for future employment. I don't want to give up on the idea of that kind of work with that kind of title, but I value other aspects of my existence way too much to sacrifice everything for a title. I say this out loud hoping the irrational bit of my brain that fears not being able to define myself that way will calm down.

Kiddo!!

• What a kid. There was a moment last night when she observed that I was acting like a grumpypants. I argued I didn't feel grumpy. But I was tired. The interaction was... quite a thing. I feel like there's been a shift in how she relates to others lately- more like seeing and observing/commenting and not just how it relates to her inner monologue. Until last night I'd qualify everyone around her as bit players in her live-running biopic. This might be more of an ensemble soon. It's pretty great.
• Ugh. I need to find a second opinion re: dentist. New dentist thinks she may need a root canal on one of her permanent molars. I'm like whaaa? But the emotional labor it takes to talk to the dentist and find a different dentist to take her to is a high bar to clear right now. (stops updating, calls my dentist, does the thing, because mmmmmmm,yeah- NO.)
• Harry Potter. All the time. (audio/Stephen Fry) -- eh? I can't say I was terribly different at her age. I maybe had more variety in my stories, though.

and here I've run out of writing. So, I guess I'm done for the moment. :)

"Why would anyone ever really like you"
"You call this a problem? Pfft. You're not dying of cancer, shut up"
"It could be so much worse"
"You can do one more thing"
"They're going to be mad"
"You're going to disappoint"
"Why do I have to be the one to arrange...[this logistic]"
"Best come up with Plan G just in case A-F falls through"
"Doesn't anyone else see this task that needs to be done?"
"If I don't do it, it won't get done"

drip
drip
drip

My weasels drip into my brain these drops of poison that perhaps once were there to protect me, or as best  they could figure to protect me. But poison nonetheless. These thoughts manifest and pour over my skin, trying to sink back in. I siphon them off into the vessel that lives on a far up shelf in the basement, far away from being bumped and knocked over. I don't let them settle back into my skin. It's just a thought. It's not a truth. Put it aside until you can figure out how to remove the poison.

The anxiety lives in my jaw and in the space between my shoulder blades. It steals my breath and my distance vision.
I stop. I breathe, I squeeze the drops back out and put them back in the vessel and remember I'm not on fire. I don't have to be perfect. I don't have to figure this all out RIGHT NOW.

**
I bought this vessel shown in the new icon on this post. It's the perfect representation for the one that I imagine when I'm sequestering these thoughts.
**
I'm resistant to hear people tell me "no, no, you aren't those things"-- I know. I know it intellectually. I feel a need to name them, but I am uncomfortable with people defending me and singing my praises as a way to negate what these thoughts convey. I'm not looking for a cookie or attention. I'm just naming them so I can have them not own me. OK? Thanks.

Once upon a time, there was a little girl. She was an only child. She was mostly OK with this-- she made do. She knew it wasn't ever going to be otherwise. She felt special and loved by her parents, extended family, friends, and teachers. She wanted for nothing, but she still got lonely sometimes. She wanted someone more to love. In that way that small people have no filters or limits, she wanted someone to love who loved her back: someone who was kind, and thoughtful and intense, and weird and funny and imaginative- someone who was in it with her the same way she was.

The first love was the girl across the street. And for a while, it was pretty great, but always a little off balance. Eventually there was a parental divorce, and the girl across the street moved away, a world away, one town over- and it broke the girl's heart a bit. It was never entirely the same, but our little Don Quixote tried to keep things going, through teen years. But it always hurt that the girl no longer across the street just couldn't love Quixote back like that. She kept thinking.... if only she could try a little harder- do one more thing, the girl not across the street would love Quixote back like before. Aw, honey.

High school was hard. So many people to fall in love with, but this time, not the puppy-ish child-version. This was the adolescent flavor, with all the hormones and raw, unfilteredness that entailed- gods help us all. She'd tilt and tilt - and the windmills got big eyes and backed away slowly citing not wanting to ruin the friendship. Her take-away, was to try harder, be better. That she clearly was doing something wrong, so she should write a poem. Make a mix-tape. Pine. A lot. It'd work out eventually.  But high school came and high school went. And then in the twilight before graduation, in the shadow of prom, she landed a windmill. After a year or so of hard campaigning, the windmill agreed to be her boyfriend. HUZZAH!! Cue victorious music and possibly a walk towards a sunset. But the now 18 year old Quixote had already spent over half her life tilting and failing.... it meant it was hard to say no when opportunity showed up. Even if it was a shitty idea: the wrong person, a bad match, maybe she wasn't really into them but they were into her. She'd best make the best of it because who knew when there'd be another chance. Even though she was in an assumed monogamous relationship, saying no was unthinkable. And in the meantime, the landed windmill had his own problems, lots of demons. Great sex, great moments... but still so much to figure out. So much to explore. Adventures to have and mistakes to make.  So a small eternity of three years later, it ends in a crumbling, flaming heap of bad. A small chance of improvement out of all this -- Quixote abandons monogamy as a bad deal. It was a good start.

It never got as disastrous as the adolescent era, but the pattern stayed: keep trying. Give another chance. Don't say no to affection, even if it feels off. Even if it chafes a bit. Modifications and self-preservation would kick in here and there, learned through hard lessons. Some self-awareness of her own part in her pain and suffering, the damage she ended up inflicted because of it. Parenthood, partnerhood, marriage, friendship, career, therapy.... new lessons, new layers- poly & kink, oh my. Partner transition, and partner sobriety.... And finally- in sobriety and recovery can maybe Quixote figure her shit out. Because goodness! How much of her own misery came from her own choices. An addict's partner's recovery is less straight forward, but just as critical as the addict's if there's to be true healing and true growth.

Quixote kept thinking she had to save her partner. She thought that if she just... (one more thing).... and sometimes she still thinks that, but it turns out Quixote really just needs to save herself. Own her shit. Believe people the first time when they tell her something. Take the space. Take the time to take care. To practice. Keep practicing. Have compassion. Say no. Do the next right thing. Keep going. Keep coming back. Life isn't good/bad, right/wrong. Life lives in gray and ambiguity. In small kindness and small cares. Sweeping grand gestures can go fuck themselves. It's all about the next choice. And recovering from slips without adding recrimination to the damage. The urge to tilt will never entirely leave. And she'll tilt still, from time to time. And when she does, Quixote will try hard and assume it's all her fault when it doesn't work. Her hope comes from realizing it's another windmill before being entirely bruised and battered. That she has a choice. Adventures are OK and can be good! Adventures and windmill-tilting can look ridiculously familiar. They have common roots and require certain qualities of curiosity, hunger, tenaciousness, and bravery. And being adventurous isn't all bad when it includes loyalty, compassion, empathy, love--

But know when to stop.
See the patterns.
Know when the adventure is just a windmill, again.
Back up.
Forgive yourself for the slip and correct the path.
Make amends, if you can.
Try again.

.... to be continued....

I just came back from a capital-M meeting (al anon) and I am reminded that going to Meetings is very high quality maintenance. It lets me re-evaluate and feel safe to talk about what I'm working through in a safe, environment. In this case "safe" means I'm more likely to show myself compassion, as well, because it's part of the ground-rules of being in that space.

The struggle is enough for me that it's worth repeating myself and circling back on self care. I was glad to see aroraborealis post about self care links yesterday. Nothing really jumped hard out at me that I desperately wanted to try, but I expect to come back to it again later.

Opt in, casual survey--
What are you struggling with?
What are you doing to maintain yourself lately?

For myself,
Struggle---I'm struggling with finding balance in ... everything? With a partner not yet 3 months sober, I have my own recovery to consider. I'm re-evaluating everything and breaking old habits as much as I can while feeling fractured and worn. My depression and anxiety too often take over and I feel hopeless and helpless and trapped. I desperately and emphatically want to have a different job, but not so much that I'm willing to sacrifice the comforts I have. In fact, I would prefer to expand the comfort. So, I'm here, in a position that's safe and familiar, but full of triggers, toxicity, and stagnation.

Care---

• I am prioritizing writing and interacting with folks here. It's always been my preferred means of connecting. FB is easy and fast, but not filling. (ba dum chh?)
• al anon meetings
• art (really did want to stay home and paint a scarf this morning)
• quality escapism fiction (Rose Lerner, I heart you)
• taking my meds/vitamins
• using my CPAP even though it feels weird and oogie
• TRYING to do ANY exercise (today was successful)
• figure out how to say no or find a different way to participate if the default is harming me
• keep reminding myself to be kind and compassionate. To myself. If I say it enough, will it stick?
• be OK with small progress

You?

Telepopmusik .... you speak to the essence that is me.

I'm dealing with an emotional hangover today. Therapy yesterday was hard. I just feel stuck and frustrated much of the time. I don't want to rehash it all, so just trust that it's like that without specific examples. The therapist challenged the root of some distress, though, which is that I feel like if I admit that something's a problem for me, then I have to immediately DO something to rectify that. She (rightly) points out... nope. I don't. I don't have to swing into action the second I admit there's a problem. It's OK to just admit that something is hard, or not ideal, or flawed, or frustrating. Huh. Well, like all things like this assumption, once you say it out loud like that it makes sense, but ridiculously hard and insidious while sitting there in your head, demanding that it's right and it knows best.

I was glad to see unalmas last night. They are always a delight.