This Title Was Changed Because ... Yeah

I don't even know really where to start. And where this ends up with definitely be a big, unexpected thing that I have to figure out how to get to.  I guess I will start with the present. 

I've had some things rattling around in my head. The pandemic readjustment period has been rough. I think about where I was right before lock down. I worked really hard in early 2019 to get back to myself and kick some bad anxiety. For the first time in a long time, perhaps forever, I was comfortable in and fully enjoying the present. That's not to say that I was ever unappreciative of the present, just that I spent a lot of time with an eye on future goals, and there were definitely years as an adult where I did a lot of heads down powering through a rough present in order to create a future of some kind. 

It's been a hard pill to swallow these last few months knowing that I've taken several steps backwards from where I was then. I held onto some things during the pandemic to keep myself sane and survive. Other things got put on hold. I hate the fact that I lost over a year's time to try my hand at dating, only to get so overwhelmed at less than a week on dating apps that I had to admit to myself I don't have the time and energy for that. It's something I want eventually, but right now I just can't. And I hate that.

I'm at this weird place where I feel this itch to do more with my time, to have something new or revived going on in my life, but I am also acutely aware I don't have the same emotional energy these days as I did. I don't want to lose those things I've held onto because they are the only things keeping me going right now. But I also want something to bring a spark back - something that makes me feel like I'm flourishing again, not just surviving.

Writing has been on my mind more lately. Do I finally put in the effort to do something with the book I've already written? Do I write a new one? Do I write a bunch of pointless blogs no one reads? Do I really care what happens with what I write or is just doing it what I need? I don't know.

That brings me to this moment and what I actually sat down here to write. The last few paragraphs were to ground my life at the moment. Or maybe they were a way to put this off just a tiny bit longer. Most likely I just wanted to write those things down too because they have been in my head and they won't get their own blog.

With all that rattling around my head, I found myself after midnight driving home and the song "Scars to Your Beautiful" by Alessia Cara comes on. And that reminds me. Check what month it is now. Yep, it's September again. A few weeks ago I thought about September coming around again. I hate that I still think about this anniversary every time it comes around. 15 years - that's a milestone amount of years, right? I always mark the month because I don't remember the specific date. I don't want to remember honestly, but I remember the month. September. 15 Septembers ago was the last time I cut myself.

I am doing this. I am actually going to do this. I am going to sit here, after 1 in the morning, and write this out. Because I think of all the things I could or should write, this tops the list. I should have written this years ago. But I was always too scared. Before I get into details, some more general insights. 

Recently I have been reading this book about attachment styles. Basically there are 3 (maybe 4) ways people attach to others when they build relationships. Most of what I've learned talks about how people with each style behaves and not so much about how they got that way. Early theories say it harkens back to the first 18 months of life, later info says later times can mold that. Regardless of when it happens, from what I've learned I seem to have a mildly avoidant attachment style. At some point in their lives, avoidant attachers learn that other people cannot meet their emotional needs and therefore repress their needs for attachment and self soothe. We have trouble opening up about our problems, we have trouble asking for help, and we tend to be overly self-reliant.

While that told me nothing I didn't already know, and it hit on things I've been actively working on for years, it did get me to thinking about where that could come from for me. It brought up a lot of thoughts about past coping mechanisms and how I got to be who I am now.

I've spent most of my life under a lot of pressure to be exceptional. I cannot say for sure where that came from, but I have my ideas. It's funny because I think my parents were good at not putting pressure on me. If anything they were worried about the pressure I put on myself. I put a lot of pressure on myself. Maybe I still do, hopefully less so, just because that's what I'm used to. I think the pressure came from the rest of the world. I was shy as a child, highly sensitive, and I probably had some social anxiety issues that were never recognized because that wasn't a thing people thought about back then. I learned at a young age that being exceptional, standing out for achievement, meant attention and praise. And I liked that. But now I realize other people put a lot of pressure on me to be that amazing, impressive kid. Being intelligent and talented meant the world had expectations of me. And meeting those became a big part of my identity.

For far too long I told myself it wasn't okay to struggle. I had a reputation to protect, and if people knew how hard it was sometimes that would undermine everything. Now I know, from my work being vulnerable, that people see the value in being open and honest about my struggles. Being open gives people space to say they too have the same struggles. And they get to see success is possible while struggling, not just for people without struggles.

My first really bad time was when I was a junior in high school. The stress of school plus working towards getting ready for college was a LOT. But I wasn't allowed to crack. I remember one time telling my high school best friend I was having a hard time and she got mad at me for it, saying my life wasn't hard like hers. What could I have going on that was so bad? That would be, uhhh, definitely depression. But what do teenagers know about that? Adults have a hard time understanding what it's like, so of course teenagers who haven't been taught about it couldn't understand. I didn't understand.

***Maybe stop here because things could be triggering***

I remember the first time I learned about cutting. I watched a made for TV movie about it. The movie was probably trying to scare teens into NOT cutting themselves. I just remember thinking "Hmmm, that's a new idea." I never actually cut myself in high school. The closest I got was that I would sometimes wear safety pins as a fashion accessory on my shirt, and when I had a bad day I would thread the safety pin through the top layer of my skin.

One time I think a classmate of mine was a cutter. I wanted to tell her I didn't believe her cat did that to her, and I knew what she did instead. But I was too afraid. I didn't want her to feel shame. And I didn't want to admit that was something I thought about. So I let it go. I hope she's ok in her life now.

I loved college. I will speak so fondly of all the wonderful things I did in college and all the amazing people I spent time with. Those were some wonderful days! But college also held some of the darkest days of my life. For years of thought that those times and the dark secret they held is that one missing piece of my story that explains so much of me and no one ever got to know. I've told a small handful of people some vague generalizations about what I did, but I've never really talked details. But I've always been afraid that if I never get them out, I will carry them around with me forever. I am not this girl anymore, this doesn't influence my life anymore, so I have to let them out and let them go.

The first time I ever cut myself was sometime in the Fall semester of my freshman year. Honestly I am embarrassed at the so unimportant circumstances that lead to it. My roommate had a friend she made at orientation whose birthday it was. The two of them had dinner with the girl's parents. My roommate had a surprise party planned for the girl in her dorm. Her parents ended up taking them back to the dorm, so that pushed up the surprise time. My roommate had planned on coming back to our room to do my hair and I was going to go to the party with her. She ended up coming home hours later already really drunk. The party began without me. I don't remember if she ever let me know or just came home drunk. But then she left again and I felt so alone. Obviously there were other things going on - the stress of college, long term pressure to succeed, low self-esteem issues, etc. I just finally hit that low and that idea sprang to mind. I had a spare scalpel blade in my desk that I bought with my freshman biology dissection kit. Yeah, maybe colleges shouldn't sell those to teenagers when colleges don't do well tending to student's mental health needs! I don't know why I chose the location I did, but I still have the scar on my left pointer finger.

For the rest of that year, every month or so, when things just got to be a little too much, I would wait for my roommate to not be around, and then I would take care of things. I didn't talk about my stress. I didn't admit to anyone I was having a rough time. I just took care of it. Every other time I was fine.

After my freshman year I thought I was fine. I throw the scalpel blade away and went home for the summer. I never cut myself at home. It was my safe place. And I thought I would be fine sophomore year. But then I had to take organic chemistry. (This was a joke. Because organic chemistry is notoriously horrible!!!) But seriously being a science major was really hard for me. As an at or near genius level IQ person coming from a small town, school was never hard for me. I did my homework but I never learned to study. Sciences classes were a big change (I did great in non-science classes). This was the first time in my life I may not achieve what I had been planning since I was a kid (which I didn't achieve). I didn't know how to cope. And if people found out, I would be ruined! That's not factually true, but it felt that way. Plus, I've always felt different, like people don't think the way I do or see things the way I do. And they have a hard time understanding me. So without achievement, I was just this weird inscrutable thing, and if people knew that, I would be all alone.

I am not ashamed that I cut myself for so long. I was young and didn't know how to cope with the immense pressure I was under. Society and institutions put so much on me and then failed to care for me. I am not alone in this AT ALL. This is the thing I am ashamed of. Spring of my sophomore year I moved into the sorority house. I roomed with two amazing women. One of my roommates on several occasions talked about her heart ache of her brother being a cutter. She hated that he did that and she couldn't get him to stop. And here I was, doing the same thing in our room, keeping it a secret. I couldn't stop, but I sure as hell couldn't say anything and add to that pain. I hated myself for being sympathetic to her while hiding the same thing. I've never admitted that ever. It feels good to let it out.

But you may be thinking "But Dayna, you threw away your scalpel blade. How did you keep cutting yourself?" I'll tell you! Disposable razors! You just break them and there it is! Voila! A perfectly useable razor and since I could get disposable razors way easier, I didn't use the same one for a whole year! Seriously, the fact I didn't get some kind of illness from the metal is a surprise to me. I have this scar on my thumb from one time when I was trying to pull the blade from the razor. I am not quite sure what went wrong, but it swung around and cut a chunk out of my knuckle. That fucker bleed more than anything ever. I remember seeing something white at the bottom of the wound. 

Here's the problem with being secretive and smart. I never did the dozen of large slashes across the forearm like people probably think about. I didn't want to get caught. So it was always 2-3 slashes in length easily covered by a normal sized bandaid. And before I was even done I already had my mind working on some lie about some dumb klutzy thing I did. Also, I switched up locations. Never the same arm twice in a row. If it was too soon since the last time, I'd go for an ankle or above the knee. Granted, this was maybe a once a month occurrence, but still. I needed to keep things plausibly accidental.

My most prominent scars were from a particularly bad time. Thinking about writing this out now it's going to sound super stupid, but in the moment to a 19 year old girl it was a very emotional day. It was fall my junior year. For homecoming all of the Greek houses participated in a lip sync event. That year my house put a ton of effort into a killer routine. But of course stupid Delta Gamma used their money to win the competition, despite our awesome performance. Back at the house we were talking about doing things to commiserate. I was very vocal about wanting to do something. Eventually the house was empty and no one invited me along anywhere. Honestly, it's probably because I lived in the only room on the third floor and people probably didn't even know I was still there. I hit this really dejected place, plus like there was always a build up of other stuff going on. That night alone in my room I made the deepest cuts I had ever done. But this night, I wanted people to know. I was in so much pain I wanted to shout it from the rooftops! I couldn't take it anymore - the internal pain, the cutting, the hiding, the lying. So I let the blood run down my arm and I went for a walk around the house. I always wonder what would have happened that night if I ran into someone different. The only girl I ran into was one of my sorority sister's biological younger sister who was visiting to get the college sorority experience. She was still in high school. I couldn't for the life of me traumatize this poor girl because she happened to be the only one around. So I hid my arm behind my back and had a normal, friendly conversation with her. I may have even walked around the house with her for a bit. And then I went back to my room, clean off the long trail of blood down my arm, and went to bed.

I think of my cutting as a form of self medication. It definitely gave a rush of chemicals to counter act the negative ones in my system. At the time though I described it to myself that I wanted to feel on the outside how I felt on the inside. Because at least outside wounds make sense. The pain is visible and eventually the wound heals. Inside pain is more complicated. I may have even ritualized it. I kept my razor blade in a first aid kit. When the time came, I would put on some music, there being a few specific songs I played. When I was finished, I would clean myself up and put on a band aid. Then I would always leave the trash on my desk. I always cut at night. Some part of me wanted to get caught because then I could talk about it. But when I woke up in the morning I would be scared of getting caught and just throw everything away.

I took a bit of a break the spring of my junior year. I wish I could say it was because I was doing better. Quite the opposite actually. Near the beginning of the semester my roommate attempted suicide. The last time I ever saw her was earlier that evening. She never came back to school. I was so afraid that if I got caught I would get kicked out of school too, so I stopped. Besides, that experience was a whole other level of painful. Nothing but time was going to numb that. I don't really want to write about that here. I think it's its own thing, and I wouldn't feel comfortable writing about it. Maybe one day I'll talk to someone about that, but that's another day. I will say this though - I've never wiped the smug look off a professor's face so fast than by telling him THAT was why I was late to an exam. :^P

I remember when my mom figured out I was cutting myself. Why do moms have to be so smart?!?! She noticed the scar on my arm, and commented how she thought the scar was on the other arm. Except yeah there was one on both arms. Matching scars in almost the same place on both arms isn't exactly a coincident. I've had people once or twice after that notice my scars, but they never put anything together. I tried scar removal cream on some of them after my November 2019 car accident (where I was also trying to limit scarring on an airbag burn). But scar cream requires once a day application for MONTHS! Ugg!

I restarted the Fall of my senior year. Geez, telling this part makes me feel bad too. I got pulled into a meeting of this behavior committee we had in our sorority. Evidently I had been posting some pretty moody stuff on MySpace (yes, I'm THAT old, gah!) and they were concerned. It came out that I had stopped cutting myself and didn't really know how else to cope, so it came out that way. Fuck, I think I still sometimes post moody shit, but I swear now it's meant to be deep and not some moody b.s. of a 20 year old! After that meeting I thought people wanted to talk to me to see how I was and maybe I'd get some help. But no one said anything about it to me after that. I figured if they weren't bothered by it, might was well start again. At least then I could not be so moody and hide my feelings again. I don't have any hard feelings about that. Ladies that young wouldn't know what to do with that kind of information. I do wonder if any actual adults found out.

The only memorable instance from my senior year was this one. My roommate (I had a different roommate each semester, if that matters) sat at her desk with her back to me. I sat on my bed, the bottom bunk. I just sat there, brazenly making cuts to my ankle. Then a couple of our sisters came into the room and the four of us hung out and talk. I sat there for who knows how long with a pillow covering my bleeding ankle.

The last time I cut myself was in September 2006. I had graduated college and moved back home. That day I got into a huge fight with my dad. He was being a huge fucking ass hole about something he was often a huge fucking ass hole about. So I stormed off, locked myself in my room, and made those final cuts. My mom knew what I was doing, but that didn't stop me. After that I told myself that had to be it. I always saw cutting as something I did in college, and once I left college I left that behind. But if I did it after that, there at home, it was a home thing too. And home doesn't have a finite timeline. 

One time some while after I officially stopped, my mom made a comment about checking my purse for razor blades. That upset me. I wondered how long it would be until she trusted I wouldn't do it again, until she stopped looking for signs or stopped thinking I would relapse. Now I wonder if she remembers it was even a thing. I guess that's a big reason I've been afraid all these years to let people know about it. I wrote an entire novel fictionalizing my experience because I wanted to get it out without actually telling the facts. I just feared that after knowing, people would see me from that lens. That people would think I would become that person again under the right circumstances. It could be because at times in those early years I missed it. There were times that picking back up that razor blade and cutting away years of it being down seemed so easy, I could feel it. That was a long time ago. Now if feels like a lifetime away, another person in a movie or something. The thought of ever doing something like that to myself is abhorrent to me. I had this thought several weeks ago. We all have people in our lives who tell us about the people that have hurt them the most. And when you really care about someone you get negative feelings about the hurtful people on behalf of those you care about. Well, I'm the person who's hurt me the most. And maybe it's hard to ask someone to love the person who's hurt you the most, even if it is you.

My biggest regret was that it took me over a decade later before I saw a therapist. I can't undo the pressures put on me during my youth, but I can chose to not be that person who lets that rule my life. I've put in a lot of work to not be that person anymore. And yeah, I was probably too self-reliant and did a lot of it on my own. I just think of all the things I made it through in the years that followed with much better coping skills. I am surviving a freaking pandemic! Hmmm...and now I am wondering if I had learned about vibrators in college if I could have coped a LOT better!

Sometimes Adults Just Miss Books Reports

Recently a dear friend and did a Top 10 list of movies as good as the book. Now that I have completed the show, I wanted to write down my thoughts about one of the books/Movies because it has really stuck with me this last week. I hope that of I write down my thoughts I can be down with them.

I first read The Perks of Being a Wallflower in 2017. I had previously seen then movie and was interested in reading the book too. I am not sure how much time passed between the two events because I buy books and let them sit on my shelf for a long time often. I buy too many books, haha.

2017 was my year where I read a book a week and I remember really relating to this book. At the time I saw reading a bunch of books as a good way to bring down my to read list and have a mellower year after the train wreck that was 2016. From my perspective now I kind of feel in 2017 I did a lot of ignoring the pain of 2016 and kind of hiding from the world. That's not to say I spent the whole year home reading - I did start improv classes that year - but I did realize later my anxiety problems from 2018 stemmed a lot from my inaction of 2017. You could say I was having a very wallflower like year in 2017, and maybe that's why the book really hit me at that time too.

I like that this coming of age tale focuses on someone I relate more to than what I feel like is the most typical protagonists in these kind of stories. Granted, there are so many coming of age stories about white men that they all do start to run together. I guess I just really relate as someone who always feels sort of outside of things that happen to some extent. I think part of that is being introverted and part of that is having a brain that can't help seeing so much more around me. I don't know how much like that I was as a teenager. I gained so much more self awareness in my mid to late 20s that it's hard to remember how much of who I am now is what I learned then or what I grew into because of those skills. I was a shy child and I was probably socially anxious my whole life, but grew up at a time where things like mental health awareness weren't really in the collective mind. I was always smart since I was a kid, but it really wasn't until law school that I truly grasped how much smarter and how different my brain worked. Up until that point it was all I had known and was normal for me. It's weird to think of being a marked outlier as "normal". 

As I sit here recalling what specifically about the book and movie have sat with me, there are a couple things that really rise to the surface. The first is me trying to grapple with what does the title really mean to me. Like if I am a wallflower like Charlie, what are the "perks" that come with that. I tried to think of them both in context of the "lessons" I would pull from the book and also what I've learned from my own experience. I do wonder how much my current frame of mind impacts my analysis. I am currently adjusting to the world being open but the pandemic still raging. I was definitely changed by my experiences since last March and I don't know if my struggles now to readjust are temporary, or if I am permanently a different person. Probably some of both. All I know is that "perks" seems like a pretty screwed up word to use to describe what I've been thinking about.

I cannot decide if I think the title is wrong or if it's trying to be ironic or tongue in cheek. The experience from the book and from my life demonstrate to me that being a wallflower, whether physically apart or just mentally, gives those people a different perspective. By standing outside of the action, we see it from a different view and get insight into things people miss when in the thick of everything. When I say mentally apart I don't really mean intellectually, although that could play a role, but I mean being in one's head thinking about things or making observations instead of mentally being present. I know I have plenty of experience being with people doing things but my mind is miles away, or at the very least watching it all more aloofly.

I like how in the end of the movie Charlie calls it like it is, instead of like in the book I had to put everything together myself. A big part of being a wallflower is seeing so much pain. In the book/movie Charlie ends up being a part of so many of his loved ones' painful moments because he's there in the quiet times. Those times when people let their guard down. There is something about being a quiet listener that makes people share things they may not otherwise share. It can be a great bonding experience, but sometimes it can be burdening - depends on how much the people know each other, probably. 

Similarly, there is a lot of observing people. I don't know if being a wallflower makes us more observant, or being so aware of people drives the wallflower tendencies. They probably feed into each other. It's interesting to see behavior patterns, how past experiences, intergenerational dynamics, and societal expectations can play roles in how people behave. It's interesting to watch people, both in film and real life, and understand how things that happened outside of that moment are impacting even seemingly random moments. It's interesting seeing the aftermath of some great pain happening before your eyes in everyday of interactions and having the insight to feel that person weathered some raging storm in the past. Like I said, I think the book/movie taught me the biggest "perk" of being a wallflower is seeing so much more pain in the world, whether people share with you the details or not.

That's not to say pain is the only thing. Probably just where my mind seems to be focused lately. Being able to see more of the inner workings of people and the world means also a chance to seem more beauty. I think there is a lot of beauty in seeing how things work. I think there is a lot of beauty in connecting with art in a way that makes you feel connected with other people. Even a more observational, intellectually stimulating awareness of more of what is happening is a perk, even if it is emotionless. And even when seeing pain in the world, being able to see it when others can't means being there for others in ways they may not get otherwise. This is what happens when I spend over a year with too much alone time - I get way to melancholically philosophical. (Yes, I did just Google the adverb version of melancholy.)

The second thing I've been really thinking about is a thing in the book that made me really angry and was not present in the movie. Part of me wonders if it's just coincidence or if there was feedback to the author, who also wrote the screenplay, and it was intentional. Some plot points to understand what happens. Charlie, Sam and Patrick become friends. Sam starts dating this older guy Craig. Charlie has a crush on Sam that he writes about to his writing companion but doesn't do much about IRL. Near the end Sam breaks up with Craig. 

The scene that bothers me is near the end with Sam and Charlie where Sam is talking to Charlie about why he didn't make a move on her when she broke up and then try to teach Charlie the lesson about how if he has feelings he has to do something about them, because she can't feel them if he keeps them inside. Great lesson that fits the story! The problem is, in the book, near the beginning, Sam tells Charlie she doesn't want him to have those kinds of feelings for her. Then later in the book she makes reference to that moment and Charlie refers to that too as he's struggling to comply. In this scene in the book, Charlie reminds Sam of this and she tells him basically that if he had feelings for her, he should have done something about it anyway, despite what she said, and that she wants a guy who goes after what he wants. Her saying not to have feelings for her does not happen in the movie and all those references were removed. And I think it's better for it. I have been able to synthesize why it makes me mad into three interrelated points.

Point 1 - from the perspectives of the characters, this is poor relationship management. I will say up front that while this did make me mad, since it's character focused, I can forgive it because these are teenagers not old enough to be as emotionally intelligent as me. What makes me mad is that she gave him a very clear boundary, one that was reiterated and acknowledged by both parties over time. It's unfair of her to want him to make a move when it's the exact opposite of what she said. Him doing so would disrespect their friendship and that boundary. (The truth or dare scene is a perfect example of Charlie violating that boundary and it having bad consequences for multiple relationships.) With a clear directive in his mind, how is he fairly supposed to know it's ok to disregard that without a just as direct statement the other way? He could have interpreted all sorts of ambiguous things many ways, but direct is direct. It would have been one thing in the book if she acknowledged she said that (and maybe showed some appreciation for him listening) and then say she changed her mind and asked him how he felt about that, how it changed things for him. But telling him she wanted him to do what he wanted without telling him how she actually felt about the situation feels hypocritical to me.

Point 2 - I think this aspect of this scene undermines the author's lesson of participating. In the movie I think the lesson is straightforward and felt. Charlie and Sam have been floating around each other the whole time, and while she's in this not great relationship, there's still a bond as friends being made that Charlie could be more vocal about, and that could blossom into more when the timing is right. But in the book by adding the bit about Sam wanting Charlie to ignore her direct statement about him developing feelings, I think it muddies the message. To me, participating is being in the moment, developing relationships, expressing yourself and your feelings. Participation doesn't mean doing whatever you want whenever you want, disregarding other people. I think Sam asking Charlie to express his feelings and not keep them inside, but she keeping her true thoughts and feelings about what she wants to herself, it undermines the message. 

Point 3 - this one made me the maddest, but it was also the one that took me longer to pinpoint and articulate to myself. I think the book version does Sam wrong and promotes toxic ideas about women. You can boil that point in this Sam and Charlie scene to Sam saying in the past I don't want something but then her saying yes actually I did want it. And if you wanted it too, you should have taken it regardless of what I said. This is teaching the lesson that when a woman says no, she really means yes. And men have just keep being persistent until they get what they want, because the woman really wants it but just isn't saying that. That is so fucking bullshit. It's possible I am taking this a step too far, but I don't think so. It particularly irritates because it is established in the story that Sam was kissed at a young age by an adult non-consensually, and earlier in high school got drunk at party and did things that she was pressured into. So having a character that has been through trauma because of men taking what they want telling Charlie that's the kind of man she likes is horrible. Either the author doesn't understand how shitty that is because of having never lived something like that and did it mindlessly, or he purposefully created a messed character and used her to teach a muddied shitty lesson. While I haven't experienced what Sam has, as a woman I can sure as hell relate because that's the kind of stuff we're taught to fear our whole lives and know too many women who go through too many things. It's this point that makes me think this change could have been intentional for the movie b/c the book is from 1999 and the movie 2012, and I can see how more social awareness of women in movies would have made the desire for this change. And living in 2021 it really sticks out to me way more than it would have when the movie came out.

When I started writing this last night I thought that I had figured out all the things I wanted to write and had all the points figured out. But something else popped into my mind last night that I want to work through here. Part of me wants to say "bite me" to the whole lesson of teaching wallflowers to participate more. Yes, I can agree there is a need to make more wallflower like people more socialized. Maybe I never reached Charlie levels because my mom got to me young (or because I never experienced trauma like he did). A lot in my live growing up was driven by my mom's attempts to socialize me. I was never allowed to skip a grade because my mom wanted me to have social skills as well as intelligence. School was always easy for me, but socializing was not. I did activities as a kid to ensure I wasn't spending too much time alone. The summer before high school started my mom signed me up for a theater class at the high school so I could make some new friends before starting high school to help with the transition, which worked out great because I met some great friends and my favorite teacher that summer, so A+ work mom!!

But I don't think a wallflower should ever be "cured" of this. I also don't think that's possible, so people shouldn't try. It can be lonely sometimes and sad at times, but it is just a different way to be. There is value in being different and being yourself. It's important to keep the balance between growing as a person by building relationships and stepping outside the comfort zone, but also growing those introverted, internal skill sets that are special. So yeah, sometimes I am going to disconnect physically or mentally from the people I am around. And I may not always get all of my feelings out of my head into the world, but every year I gain more insights, open up a little more, pull back the curtain on the world and my mind a little more - it's a lifelong journey being and growing yourself.

Am I Ready to Die Alone? (<---Wow This Title Starts off Depressing!!)

I didn't think I'd write this blog. It's been swimming around my head for a couple weeks but I didn't know if these thoughts were anything I wanted to share. However, I find myself awake at what's now 4:30 a.m., having not been able to fall asleep. I hope this is something I can do to wear myself out, or at least kill time until the day can start.

This adjustment period to the world and my life getting back to normal has been interesting. I remember thinking during the first couple weeks of the pandemic that I could really only last maybe until summer, and then I just couldn't go past that. Now, I feel like I am so used to the changes that I am anxious about resuming "normal" life. (Did I say some of this already last time? I don't remember, so I may repeat myself.)

I may spend a little too much time thinking about what may happen in the near future instead of just focusing on the present. Classic Dayna! Like, I think about the things I had before the pandemic - what will come back and what will be gone forever. I think about how although I may feel not confident as we get back into performing improv, I am glad to be back and I look forward to that happening again. But I think about my job and the relationships I think faded because of working from home, and how I don't think I'll get those back, and what does that mean for the future. I also think about the positive things I've gained during the pandemic, and how many of those will stay or go. Will the bonds I made using technology last into the real world? Will my or other people's priorities shift now that our lives are back, and how do I fit into (or slip out of) that?

Even with all of that going on to wear me out, I still feel this longing to fill that missing piece in my life. But am I ready now to add dating to the mix? In a very lawyerly like fashion, I think the answer is "it depends." I know that I really want to have someone to get to know, spend time with, open up to, see what happens - build a relationship together, enjoying each other. I may stumble along the way, and be nervous with vulnerability, and be a huge lame dork figuring out something so new, but I want to do it! I just keep building an ever better version of me, and I want to share that with someone.

If I go about my life now as it is readjusting, and an opportunity presents itself, I am ready to take it. I feel like I have grown so much and learned so much, even with not getting to do a lot. And while there's always little voices in the back of my head sowing doubt, people I care about have shown time and again that I am valued and cared for. As a person, I have a lot to offer and a lot to appreciate. Also, I'll even admit I may be kind of adorable sometimes. Doing online shows really has boosted my confidence. I think back to 2018 when my anxiety was really bad and I put no effort into my appearance. I kept my hair back in a messy bun most of the time and just wore whatever because I didn't care. Then, after I got my shit together in 2019 and was feeling better, I put more effort into looking nice. Ok, admittedly part of that started because I didn't want to look a disaster mess around this hot guy I sometimes ran into, not that I think he ever noticed or cared what I looked like. But lots of other people noticed and would give me compliments. And it felt great. And having shows to dress up for and to care about how I presented myself really kicked that feeling into overdrive. Over the last few months I've thrown clothes out of my wardrobe because they are things that I bought in frumpy, sad times, and I never want to wear them again because I never want to be that person again. 

The difficulty comes with if an opportunity doesn't present itself, I have to start online dating. And I know I am NOT ready for that. It doesn't help that personality wise I am NOT made for the modern dating scene. On top of that, with post-pandemic readjustment, I am not ready to jump into that. And it makes me so mad because literally a week before the pandemic started I was ready to dive into that, but oh no! Lockdown! The time and energy required for such an undertaking seems like such a waste, especially right now when I feel time is getting taken up by returning life and energy is already really low. And as easy as it was to say "once it's time, I'm gonna find a man!" during the lockdown, it's hard to do now. So, so hard. I try to tell myself I've taken steps to prepare and make myself ready, but if I never get out there to meet someone to show my new undergarments to, what's the point to having bought them? (Ok, fine, I do feel cute just knowing they look cute when I go out, even if I'm alone in this knowledge, which is serious progress for me.)

I did some online research recently to help give me some confidence and motivation, and frankly I think it scared me more than anything. I've written before about my struggles with body positivity and accepting myself. I was hoping to find some articles from women like me who found love despite being large and despite society's messed up, horrible, mean, soul-crushing standards. I did find stories of women who found love, except that part is always at the end of a long story full of heart breaking details about how horrible it is. Like, I don't think I even got to the happy ending on some because the real experiences of these women made me cry, and frankly made dying alone seem really the best option, and I had to stop reading for the sake of my soul. Because waiting out there for me are things like lots of rejection, targeted rudeness, unkind comments about my body, men that will have sex with fat women but not date them in public, or the opposite of men who will form emotional relationships with fat women but not be physically intimate, plus just general lack of basic human decency to real people with real feelings. And then for fat women that do find a partner, if they are a different body type, people are rude questioning how that even happened and why a guy would do that. I've definitely gotten into my own head with thoughts like I can't date anyone who is too attractive because then to balance things out his personality has to suck, and I can't date someone with a crap personality. Or I can't date someone too attractive because other women will think he's easy to steal and not respect my relationship because I don't "deserve" a guy like that.

I think about how fucking awesome I am and all I have to offer someone, and I don't deserve to go through any of that crap! No one does, even terrible horrible jerks - they deserve to be healed or to live together on a horrible jerk island somewhere. I honestly don't know what to do. I want to try because I think a lot of still being single comes from that I never really tried. But if trying is futile, I don't want to waste my time or damage my well being putting myself through all that. I've always wanted to ask "why not me?" But as much as I think it could be I'm too quirky, too quiet, guys didn't know I was interested because I was too nervous/shy, my intelligence is intimidating, etc., I fear and have to admit that my body is just not attractive, and I don't want to hear that.

Damn, some of that got heavy. My bad. I'll end it with a joke. I came up with this a few weeks ago. Maybe it's the kick start to my stand up career. Here it is: "Me getting a boyfriend is like having a designated driver. Everyone thinks it's a fantastic idea in theory, but in practice those able to volunteer have tons of excuses not to." Hahahaha! I think it's funny, anyway. Not that everyone who could DD would be who you'd want to DD. But there has to be at least one good one that wants to volunteer, right?

Maybe I Might Stay Home Forever

I sat down to write something because I've been feeling this knot of anxiety in my chest since Thursday, and writing things out is where I have turned in the past to get things off my chest. I am not surprised that I haven't written anything since January. I definitely feel like I have abandoned several interests. I feel like these days I have much less capacity to care about and engage with things, so I save my time, focus and mental space of the most important things. But I am here now.

I woke up on Thursday with a terrible knot in my chest. I don't know why I woke up already anxious. I could not pin point one specific thing that made me feel that way. Granted I had gotten very little sleep the night before, but that was me prioritizing fun over sleep, not doing anything to trigger my anxiety, I think. Yet I was so anxious all day Thursday I felt physically ill. I've been able to feel better here and there since then, but I've spent most of the last few days with that same knot and feeling generally anxious. 

Honestly, I don't feel ready to resume whenever my life is back into the world. I don't feel like I have as much to give the world as I did before the pandemic. And I definitely cannot handle taking as much of what the world can throw at me. I feel like I've spent too long living in a world where all I can expect is something bad happening or the quiet time between the next bad thing that I don't have hope anymore for happiness. Like all the joy I have left for the rest of my life is appreciating the goodness in the little in between moment because there are no more big happy moment. I have used up all of the big, important moments in my life, I have exhausted all feelings of being passionate, and now it's just time to float on down the river, rapids and all, indefinitely. 

Not that that's totally a bad thing. I take refuge in the fact that Saturday night I was able to lose the knot and feel really happy, laugh and have a good time, because I could be out and around people I care about and do things I enjoy with good company. Even if all my big moments are gone, I hope that the little moments like this take up so much of my time that these feel like the bulk of my life, and the other moments feel like filler between random fun times.

When I first opened my browser I intended to write through some stuff to express things weighing on my mind as I prepare for (or flounder towards) the world again. But I'm not going to. Mostly. Writing this blog is one way for me to work on my vulnerability, but somethings just aren't for here. I am thankful that for those things, I have been able to build relationships and trust where I can be vulnerable, where before I would just keep things in entirely. What I can say is that even though mentally I am struggling sometimes, I am still taking actions to go back into the world. I am taking steps to get back into experiences and activities I love, steps to have first time experiences and activities, to get around things I probably should have done by now and won't let unpreparedness get in the way of in due time.

As I am listening to music while I type, I agree that my worst pains are words I cannot say. Sometimes pains are too hard to articulate. Sometimes words are better left unsaid. Somethings feelings are just meant to be felt in a language that is beyond speaking, and then let go. What I need is time, not words. Things have to happen and I have to let them happen, or make them happen. If memory serves I'm addicted to words and they're useless.

I will write about one thing because frankly I am disappointed with myself and need to both chastise and forgive myself. In February I decided that the world wasn't so terrible all the time with all the new things that I could take on some pointed lifestyle changes. Over the first several months of the pandemic I lost 20 pounds because I wasn't eating out any more, and I was depressed so I didn't feel like eating so I only ate to no be hungry and not waste money on spoiled fruits and veggies. By February I gained half of that back because I got into food delivery and rediscovered drive thrus. But I didn't want to lose all of the progress I made when it took zero effort. Granted, I don't want to feel that horrible again, but I did develop some good habits that proved to be easy enough if I did them on purpose.

So on March 1st I signed up for Noom. I heard about it before and I liked that the program used a lot of psychology and actually sustainable methods. My problem has always been I have busy and/or stressful periods of my life that make dieting really hard. But being at home so much before the world reopens gave me time to focus and learn. More importantly, the program taught me so much about how to overcome past bad feelings and habits that diet culture ingrains in people. And it explains things happening in my body that I always felt but didn't realize were real biological hurdles. 

I have been on the program for three months now. The progress has its ups and downs. But I've lost 20 pounds since March 1st (for a grand total of 30 for the pandemic). And more importantly, I have learned so much. I learned that I already had many good habits from so many attempts over the years, but all the mental baggage from diet culture and society had put up barriers. I have strengthened these habits, learned new ones, and I am also taking care of my mind.

And yet, I hesitate to tell most people. I have a couple people I give updates to because I want to share and I know I will be more accountable if someone knows what's going on. But I struggle sharing my success with others. Part of it easily is because so many people gained weight during the pandemic. I don't want my success to feel like a judgement of others. We all have had our own journeys over the last year+ that what any one of us has done does not make anyone else less. Also, a big part of me doesn't believe I'll have long term success.  I had long term success once in my life, before going to law school, and that went away with the stressors of law school. Even though I know I will never be going into such a pressure cooker, and even though I can logically see the differences in approach and mentality now versus then, I can't help but hang onto those doubts that I've lived with so long. Then add on the struggle between wanting to lose weight but also wanting to embrace body positivity. Like somehow I am a traitor for wanting to lose weight or like it's wrong of me to feel better about myself by losing weight. Thanks society for over 30 years of fucking with my self-worth because of how I look!! *eyeroll*

I cannot prepare for everything and I cannot know the near future until I get there, so I am just going to pass the time, hopefully as best I can. *crosses fingers*

New Year, New Something - Anything! - Please!

As a generally future focused person, the ringing of the new year has my brain itching to think about what the new year could bring. And when thoughts rattle around my brain too much without much action, my fingers itch to write some of it out. Each new year there's always a point where the glitter of the holiday season and new possibilities fades into the coldness of winter reality. Usually that comes around February for me. This year it came around January 2nd.

I feel it premature to really think about what I want to change for the year since the world has to survive the winter first, and my willingness to take action on things really depends on people and things outside of my control. But I figure I won't be able to stop thinking about things until I articulate them, so hopefully I can get things out now and then leave them here until it's time to come back to them.

In a year from now I want to look back over a years worth of work and changes to feel like I cannot believe how different things are after just one year. I dread looking about a year from now at everything being substantially the same. Here's what I am looking at for the year.

Career wise, I have hit the point where something must change. I put in a few years working my way towards a role I really wanted. But once I got there, I just felt tired. I wanted to feel excited. All the hard work was not about achieving a goal and getting somewhere just to be "well, I got here. Good for me. The end." It was about getting to a role I was excited and skilled at so I could do the work I want to do and keep doing more of it. Objectively I love the work I do. If anything, I don't get to do enough of it - I am hungry for more.

I feel like the employee relationship is like any other relationship in your life and can have many different dynamics. It's like I am here with all these great things to offer, and there is definitely an appreciation for that and a desire to have me around doing that work. But sometimes you have to admit it's just not the right time. Maybe other things have to get in order first before all of my talents and drive for career growth can be utilized. And maybe I will still be around when that happens. Or maybe they will need to find someone else as great as me once they are ready. I don't know. All I do know is I am ready for growth I don't feel like I am getting right now. 

The hard part is realistically the best option right now is to wait to make any changes. With the pandemic really bad right now, it doesn't make sense to do anything new. I am beyond grateful for how well my job has handled everything with the pandemic and employees adjusting to working from home indefinitely. And while I wait out the scariness of the world, it's very possible that new opportunities will be ready. I don't know. I just have to be ready for whatever the future brings and not be afraid to stretch my wings.

Next, let's talk extracurricular activities. Or should that be "extracareercular"? Hahahaha! A huge silver lining and coping mechanism for me last year was being able to contribute to the Sacramento Comedy Spot's online streaming content. About 4 years ago signing up for an improv class was something I did because my life needed a change and it changed in this huge, positive way. Most of the growth I saw since then was due to the comedy activities and community, so I would fight tooth and nail to save it. Whatever happens this year, I will roll with it. I want to stay involved and connected to my friends. I think it's one of the few things I can actually do stuff about now and also can adjust to as the year progresses.

Another thing I keep thinking about is my book. I asked my BFF recently if I should keep telling myself I will do something about it even though I have put it off ridiculously long, or if I should just admit to myself it will never happen. They encouraged me not to give up and that not doing it probably means something. The reality is I haven't had the emotional capacity or the mental focus. There have been so many things taking up space in my brain this last year. Add to that the stress of everything made my capacity for juggle things smaller, and I just cannot take on as many things at once as I could before. I do hope that I am seeing a lightening of the load and a healing from things that will give me more capacity soon. And since I cannot focus on other things right now, this would be a good project to come back to. I do worry about if something good does happen, do I have the time and emotional energy to take that on. And do I want to write anything else? I have ideas and I do love it, but I haven't been able bring myself to start something new.

***This is where I took a break and there was an attempted coup, so I really didn't feel like continuing this for days.***

***And then it turns out I didn't have then energy then or for another nine days. You know, times are tough right now.***

The final area where I would like to see some change in my life is in the romance department. I am really hoping 2021 is my year! I don't know if I am picking up on vibes that it's time, or just more willing than ever to put in the energy. For this section I went and reread THIS POST to make sure I wasn't restating any of the same points. 

As I was thinking about what I have had rattling around my head, I thought about where do I start. And as much as I wanted to start with "the pandemic put such a wrench in my plans", anything I could say about these several months need context from before that. Not a lot of context, mind you. But the highlights. 

I can very freely admit I suck at flirting and signals and all that get things started stuff - I blame being too smart. But a few years ago I found myself in a situation where I was determined to figure it all out and put myself out there with an effort I've never done before. I did research, I overcame the nerves in my head, I tried news things. And it was going great. I felt relaxed and confident. Things seemed to be heading in the right direction. But they weren't, and it blindsided me horribly. It didn't help that at the time other things were really rough too. I was really hurt. And what was worse, I learned to doubt everything I knew about all that. Like, if I was that wrong, I can't trust I know what's going on. I feel like I've sat at the starting line forever waiting for the gun to go off, and finally when I think "any moment now", I realize I'm not even at the racetrack. 

I definitely hit the point where I gave up. Like, if I could get so hurt without anything going anywhere, I didn't want to try anything else. I didn't trust myself to get it right. I didn't want to get to know anyone else. I didn't want to care enough ever again to be vulnerable and risk the pain. I felt like there were just too many barriers that I didn't understand and couldn't overcome, and I just didn't want to try anymore.

Of course I hit a point where I thought, ok, maybe I might want to meet someone. And maybe I could care. Maybe. I think a combination of high standards and high anxiety had me taking teeny, tiny baby steps and keeping every very close to the chest. Coming out the other side a couple years later, I see now the only way was through. I had to unlearn some bad experiences and learn some new ones. And even though I think back on times I was way too in my head, or got way more nervous than I should have been, or how I felt like I was all over the place at times, I am really proud of myself.

Right before the pandemic caused shutdown to happen, I was ready to go out and cultivate new opportunities! Before that, I was always of the mind that if I met someone organically that was great, but I wasn't really interested in "dating" as an activity. I have interests and activities of my own that I dedicate my time to, I don't need to add "dating" to that. Plus, like I said, I suck at all that stuff, so I really wasn't before looking to put a lot of time and energy into something I was bad at. Boo. But I feel like the circles of "guys who are worth my time" and "guys who would want to date me" are both very small, so the Venn diagram of guys I could end up dating is probably minuscule, assuming the circles overlap at all. So, you know, options have to be cultivated.

And then the shutdown happened. I tried to NOT see this as a sign from the Universe that yeah, actually, I was meant to be alone forever. Of course, the cause and effect parts of the pandemic were underway far before anything I had done. The timing is just a coincidence. Right? RIGHT????? Luckily, I've had plenty of time to think and to hopefully learn some lessons for the future! Yay! Learning!

In one of my shows a couple weeks ago I joked about how my New Years resolution was to learn how to flirt. While it was funny, I don't think that's really true because (1) I refuse to make a New Years resolution this year and possibly ever again, and (2) that's not quite accurate enough of a statement. I think that I have the skills needed, and I have been at times accused of flirting when I've just been being polite. More accurately, I need to learn to apply those skills at the right time. A friend of mine recommended to me some dating advice channels on YouTube. And frankly a lot of people's advice to me feels very much like it's for the normies. I don't want my use of the term "normie" to sound condescending, but like I actually feel that way about it, so... 

I feel like so much of dating advice plays on a lot of heteronormative gender stereotypes. The advice often doesn't feel like it fits my experiences or needs, and doesn't really describe a lot of people that I know. I did however, on my own through YouTube's algorithm, find a dating coach's channel who has advise that resonates with me. The guy's name is Anthony Recenello and I really like his approach. First off, I really like that he says he wants women to feel empowered to show interest and make the first move because everyone should be express what they want and get it. His approach isn't about gimmicks to flirt or meet people, but about being present in the moment and genuinely connecting with people. When you listen to someone and find things you have in common, you can vibe off that and build on it. 

Personally, I feel I naturally really engage with people in the moment whenever I talk to other people. I think that's why I have been accused of flirting in the past - I engage to connect with people during most moments, even very brief ones like checking out at the grocery store. I've had really serious conversations at parties because I am sincerely interesting in checking in with someone on something important, and they feel comfortable opening up to me. The problem is, when I am interested in someone for romantic purposes, it's like a switch in my brain gets flipped to make me so nervous and so in my head that I cannot just do what I naturally do all the time!!

I have been trying to nail down what causes this. I think it's a lot of different things. I tend to overthink things in general, I get nervous when I want people to like me (even platonically, for the few super cool people I come across), I'm too smart so I am missing romance skills, etc. I think a lot of it too has to do with self-esteem issues, especially when it comes to my looks. I do this really stupid, ridiculous mental thing where objectively I know a vast majority of single men aren't good enough for me (i.e. they don't have the intelligence I need to hang with mine, not emotionally intelligent enough, not the right set of traits, etc.), but as soon as I meet someone that I think is good enough for me, I tell myself I am not good enough for them. Because clearly if a man has all these great qualities that I would date them, they could clearly get any woman and why would they choose me over so many options? Granted, not all of those options are good, even if they are really hot. But still, that's a hard thought to fight. 

And I have gotten myself fully to the place where I can say with confidence that even with being unattractive, my internal qualities are so badass and wonderful that they more than make up for looks and make me an excellent choice as a girlfriend. I am sort of in the middle of the process of accepting that I can look good and be desired for my outsides too. During these pandemic times I've learned a rather apropos lesson: If I can be my genuine, open self with all my sides, thoughts, traits and what have you shared feeling, without letting my head get in the way, people that I think are high quality and I think highly of do the same for me. So, if I can do that with friendships, I can take it a step further - I just have to be comfortably myself and add a bit of explicitly expressing interest. Obviously, the hard part is taking theoretical ideas and turning them into a reality, but it's a step in the right direction.

Right now, there's only so much I can do because the pandemic numbers are bad and I am not doing anything to risk anything. But one day there will be mass vaccinations and things to do. I'll figure out a game plan by then, or wing it. There are definitely possibilities that I am hopeful for and some unsure of. All I know is that things did NOT turn out the way I would have predicted over the last 10ish month, and it has definitely given me some perspective and insight over how I want my life to change once there's time for that. And I don't expect EVERYTHING to change this year. Just something, for the better.