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led astray

January 2013

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animeface

yup

I should be doing Something Else, namely Homework.  I believe I need to have my eyes checked.  Squinting a lot lately, especially when reading.  *sigh*  My insurance doesn't cover it.  But I'm supposed to look on the insurance site to see who will give me a discount.  Bastards.  But it's making homework a real drag since most of it is reading, and a lot of that on the computer which is worse on the ole eyeballs.  I want all my assignments on tape.  Or: I will trade knitted items for people to read my assignments aloud to me while I knit said proffered item.  It could work, right?
'm worried about a friend of mine.  She's not on LJ, or online much at all for that matter.  No one you know probably.  But she has lots of issues and baggage and PTSD and eating disorders and depression and just a bad lot.  She is the sweetest fucking person.  I don't know how to help.  I want to help, but I know that would just drive her away.  I want to support her, but not her habits.  She eats when she's with me because she feels pressured (even though I have made a considerable effort not to pressure her), but I'm almost positive she throws it all up.  She's so depressed and random things, I mean really, really shitty things, keep happening to her and I can totally see why she feels the way she does.  She's in therapy, she's on meds.  It's so hard to see her hurting.  She wouldn't hurt a fly.  And she's wicked talented and she's pretty.  Man, I feel so helpless.  And she appologises for everything that comes out of her mouth.  As though telling me you're not 100% gleaming, shiny, happiness in a pink shell would offend me!  I try to tell her it's ok, she doesn't have to pretend to be happy, that if she wants to sit still and be quiet, it's ok, she doesn't have to entertain me.  And eating disorders are so foreign to me.  I love food.  I love sharing food with the people I love and I love to see my friends eat.  It fills me with such joy.  Just the simple act of eating is life-affirming to me.  (I do get a special glee from seeing particular people eat, but that's another story.)  And she lives far away, so I can't even go and check on her.  I do my best to make her comfortable.  When she says things like, "this is gonna sound stupid," or, "this is a little nuts, but..." I let her know that she's not alone, that lots of people have the same problems of PTSD, self injury, long-term illness, lots of medications, self-loathing, insomnia.  But it's so hard to say here's so-and-so, they have ___ too, maybe you two should talk.  She doesn't want people to know.  She lies about her feelings and says she's fine.  Well, missy, you don't seem to understand the power of empathy and trauma history to detect lies!  Guh.  Maybe I'll knit her a stuffy.  I don't know that she has any.  Rrrrrargh!  I am so frustrated and angry that good people have to deal with this kind of shit while fuckers like Bush sleep soundly in ignorance.  Where is the fucking justice?!?  But then, Justice is a strictly human concept which varies from nation to nation, person to person.  Fuck.  I want to do more.  I want to power and resources to help.  I want to act because I love it; I  want to be rich and famous so I can do some fucking good in the world.  I don't want a different car for every day of the week.  I don't want 5 pounds of diamonds hanging from me.  I want to fund stem cell research so we can CURE some fucking diseases.  I want to start a fund in the Native College Fund for a focus in the arts.  I want to clear all my friends' debts.  I want to create voter initiatives for poor people in the rural South with political education and transportation to the booths.  I want people to stop beating thier wives, thier kids, thier elders, each other, themselves.  I want people to stop causing harm.  I want renuable fuel.  I want to see and feel and ease and comfort.  How can I accomplish any of this?  I'm just one small, lower-middle class white girl with good intentions.  Restaurants throw out food.  Homeless shelters have to turn people away.  Children get raped.  Land gets stolen.  Villages get radiation poisoning.  Animals are forced to fight each other to the death.  Forests are being burned.  Oceans get dumped in.  Landfills overflow.  Racism exists.  Babies die.  Friends die.  Parents die.  Pets die.  We'll die too, but that's the easy part.  It's living with all the terror and horror and pain and sadness and grief that's the hard part.  Why does all this happen?  Humans are so fucked up. The best thing I know how to do is also the worst thing I know how to do.  I tell the truth as I know it.  The truth sucks.  No one wants to hear it.  It damages delicate feelings.  What are your feelings compared with the suffering of the world?  Why should I spare your feelings when the world won't spare me?  Because care for feelings is what moves the world.  As rational as humans want to be, we are beings of emotion.  Feeling.  Timing.  These are the most important things that get neglected.  How do we make a better world?  "We" can't.  We can't work together.  Instead we compete.  When we compete, we destroy.  There are so many people.  "Ia."  The verb: to be.  To exist.  Too much existance.  I need a rest from my breaks.  My brain has been so wrapped up in me and now and tomorrow and way back when.  How do I make it better?  How do I heal my friends?  How do I heal myself?  How do I heal the world?  I want to make it better.  It doesn't have to be me.  I want it better.  I will help.  I will strive.  How can I do that from this speck of a space on a pinhead of a planet?  What do I have to offer?  Damn this is whiny.  And there I go judging.  No one here to do it for me.  *big sigh* 


Ok.  Back to the here and now.  I have a paper due tuesday and lots of reading to catch up on.

Comments

If she's up for talking to someone (even anonymously with a 'dummy' LJ or AIM name), I'm definitely here as an option. My anorexia's pretty well in check (I was a starve and purge, too), I can remember what the grip of it felt like. On a side note: wow did it suck.

But yeah... so many times people aren't comfortable talking about it, and it's so rough to sit there from the background and not be able to help. I think your idea about knitting a stuffy is a great one. Just having some piece of you that she can hold onto in the rough times is like being able to have your support without the uncomfortable aspect of talking about the painful stuff.

I know that for me, on the really horrid nights - stuffies from friends saved my life so many times.

Have you gotten the chance to hear Pink's "Dear Mr. President" ? (you can see it at youtube here