Invisible

The one creating, seeing, but never seen.”

The last few books I’ve read (well, not the one I started and set aside for now because I was struggling to get through it) have had certain lines or passages which struck a chord with me, often to the point of my taking a photo of the page so that I can go back and mull over it again later.

I decided last night to use this blog as my “later”, when I can.

The above line is from the book I’m reading right now (All The Missing Girls by Megan Miranda), and it followed after a few particularly strong paragraphs describing sketches which all depicted only one lonely female as the central figure in each. The artist was also described as a young woman who was often alone, herself, and finished with the line at the top of this post.

I had, as a child, often wanted to be invisible; I would always try to not draw attention to myself, even as I desperately wanted certain people to see me, and notice me. Now as an adult, I don’t think about it as often, but some days I definitely notice an apparent lack of ability to see me in the other random people around me. The number of times I nearly get walked into (or actually do), or stepped out in front of, or spoken over…just…not seen nor heard. Treated as though I’m not even there. It’s been a running joke in my mind for years, but at the same time, it happens a lot. So often that I occasionally wonder if I’m actually that unnoticeable, after all. If my childhood wish actually came true.

There was an episode of (I think) Haven once where a girl felt so ignored in high school that she literally faded from view. She was still there, but no one could see her anymore. It was sad and fascinating at the same time. And not at all difficult to imagine being somewhat true.

I’m more of an observer than anything else. Always watching and thinking and processing and dreaming, but rarely doing. Rarely occupying the space I am in, or connecting to the people I am with. There but not there. Alive but not living. Present, but in a different moment slightly parallel to the one others seem to be in.

Experiencing my world from a distance of disconnect.

Advertisements

Life, Transit, and Holding Onto Alysia

Had kind of a harrowing morning – not for me, but for others. Came the closest I think I ever have to watching not one, not two, but three squirrels get mowed down by vehicles while I was out with Brody. One was literally right next to us, but on the street instead of safely on the sidewalk. Luckily all of them escaped, but my heart did not. The drivers didn’t even slow down. There’s zero need to be driving that fast on a residential street, especially with a school right there. You can slow down enough to at least try and avoid taking a life. I mean – it’s life. If you can’t respect a life, then what else is there, really?

Then on the subway a woman next to me collapsed just after we left the station, so we had to wait until we got to the next station before the train could stop and someone could come take a look at her. I feel like that whole system is flawed. Everyone around her reacted appropriately – she was determined to get up so people helped her and got her into a seat while another person activated the emergency alarm after someone else said to. Part of me was thinking that it wasn’t really necessary – the woman insisted she was fine, although they did help her off the train once we got to the next station. And she said she didn’t need medical assistance, which – I don’t know if she ended up getting any, or not. But everyone in that part of the train reacted quickly to take care of her, which was great to witness.

However, there’s also the delay to the entire line every time that alarm is activated. They have to stop and investigate, and the vast majority of the time the person isn’t in need of medical/fire/police intervention, so much as they just need some air. Which – don’t even get me started on how the transit system neglects to take into account the fact that we are all dressed for being outside, and therefore do not need the heat cranked when we step on board the train during the winter months. There’s not enough room for all those people AND their layers of clothing and outerwear once they’ve removed as much as possible to adapt to the sudden heat. It’s ridiculous. Just circulate the damn air, already.

Anyway, what was I trying to say? I know it’s unrealistic to expect people to wait a moment before activating the emergency alarm, to ensure that it’s actually an emergency that requires further intervention and assistance. But at the same time, activating it immediately didn’t make any difference. The train still had to proceed to the next station before anything could be done, and by then the woman was doing much better, and could have just gotten off at the next stop, anyway. I guess I just wish there was a way to alert the train operators to what was going on without having to hold up the whole line longer than necessary. I don’t know. I don’t really have any solutions. I just was thinking about it this morning after everything happened because it didn’t feel quite right to me, while also realizing I didn’t know how it could be better or more efficient.

Yesterday I wrote about the end of my first relationship, and actually still feel pretty good about the process of writing it all down. I wrote most of the words I didn’t want to write, and the few I left out actually weren’t required for getting the point across, so I call that a win. I wouldn’t say it was easy, at all, but it definitely wasn’t as difficult as I feared it would be. I also didn’t feel down after; my different mood and mindset since starting this little project has remained in effect, despite reliving some of the more heart-shattering moments from my little lesbian relationship journey. That process may also be somewhat responsible for the little crush I have going on lately, which I haven’t had for quite some time. Maybe it’s a coincidence and they aren’t at all related, but maybe it’s not. Either way, I intend to continue with both writing and crushing for the next little bit, at least, and see how things go. Like, for me, I mean. I don’t expect anything in my real life to change, but I am thus far noticing a change inside me – in terms of mood and state of mind, mostly – and so far it’s all positive, so I want to see if that continues at all, or if it’s just a temporary high brought on by alcohol and lack of sleep. Haha

Last night and today, I’ve been thinking a lot about Alysia. I realized that I am starting to forget things; about her, and about our friendship. She’s been gone, like, 2 and a half years now. That’s far longer than I knew her. We were friends for months, not years, and while the length of time has zero to do with how much I loved that kid (our connection wasn’t instant, but still pretty close), it came as a shock to realize not only how long it’s been already, but also how much longer there is to go without her being in my life. I’m starting to feel almost disconnected from her now. Not in an “I’m over it” kind of way, but rather in the sense that I can’t feel her as well anymore, her presence in my world. I’m forgetting little details, and I only have a small yet finite number of my own memories to draw from as it is. That I’ve known and loved her mom and brother so much longer than I knew her is…not wrong, exactly, but not right, either.

It’s hurting my heart and pissing me off at the same time.

The only upside is that it makes me want to just sit and hug Brody all the more right now. That much, at least, is never a bad thing.

Officially Amazing

According to my Facebook memory feed, it was one year ago today that I first learned I was officially a Guinness World Record holder. I started to cry pretty much immediately. Tears of happiness, relief, vindication – a myriad of emotions went through me in the moments following that message. I had to read it twice to be sure that it was real; that I had actually done it.

I actually had.

I needed to confirm a couple of things for them, and even then it would be a few days before the website reflected The Mind Reels’ official amazing-ness, so I decided to only tell a couple of people right then, and make it all more public later. Tim and I created an announcement video to thank those who had donated to our crowd-funding campaign prior to the event, but the majority of the celebration would have to wait until after visible proof was available.

I got home from work that evening and cracked open the bottle of craft beer that one of our lovely guests had gifted to us at the event. I’d told her that I would only open it once I’d heard back from GWR, and drink it either in celebration or to drown my sorrows.

Naturally, I drank it from my Guinness glass.

I’ve had mixed emotions about the whole thing all along, really. It was almost exactly a year between the time I came up with the idea to attempt breaking the record, and receiving the notification that I’d been successful. It was a bittersweet success, however, because I’d also learned a lot of hard truths along the way, and the toll it took on me – on every level – is still affecting me even now.

All the stress and anger and frustration and just staying awake for 55+ hours wrecked my body, of course, but it also did some damage to my state of mind, my heart, and my spirit. I learned that I am a terrible leader, in that I do not inspire confidence nor action in anyone else. I learned that things would likely go better if I just set out to do them myself from the start, because depending on anyone else to step up and help will only end in stress and failure. Most heart-breaking, though, was learning that I’m unable to get others to see my vision and work towards helping me to make it a reality.

That whole thing was intended to be an event to pull the entire channel together, raise our visibility in the public eye, and propel us all forward as a team. Instead, it ground everything to a halt, and even a year and a half later, we are still struggling to get started back up again. Those of us who are struggling at all, I mean. Most just seem to have stopped all together.

I couldn’t even get local media interested, even though I was trying to shine a light on Canadian talent, among other things.

Learning that we are no longer the official record-holders made me want to take another run at it – to make it bigger, stronger, better – rather than feel defeated by it. I have SO MANY ideas for making the attempt epic – even more so than the first one was envisioned to be – but it would require a lot of teamwork, and I do not have the ability to inspire that in others. I can’t even get my own little show going again, let alone something on that grand a scale.

And this isn’t me being down on myself, really. Maybe a little, but I feel like it’s mostly me being down on everyone else, and just trying to be nicer and more polite about it than I actually feel much of the time. Since the GWR attempt elevated my awareness of how things are, I’ve been constantly torn between asking for help to make other visions a reality, and just doing things myself/not doing them at all. Even small things require effort, and while I am no stranger to putting in said effort, I recognize that I can’t do everything myself. Not well, at least. So I’m not sure whether to focus and do one thing as well as I am able (despite my admittedly mediocre talent or ability), or do a few things half-assed, or accept offers of assistance, even though I no longer believe in anyone’s ability to follow through.

That’s pretty much the crux of it, I think. I don’t know what it is about me that makes those closest to me not believe in me, as I’ve proven time and time again that I am stubborn enough, at the very least, to do what I say I’m going to do. From where I sit, it’s everyone else who is falling short of the example I set. From a relatively young age, I’ve tried to lead by example, in fact. Yet for some reason, however, no one follows. It often makes me frustrated and angry, yet it’s an impotent anger – the kind that lets me cry and yell and stamp my feet and even slam the door…but still go to my room.

Maybe it’s time for me to focus on finding the source of that disconnect; the reason that I don’t inspire the confidence in others that I feel in myself – that I start off feeling in all of us, until I am let down yet again. I think I need to figure out what it is about me that holds people back from believing in me, and also determine why I keep giving out second chances, hoping for different outcomes, and whether or not I should continue to do so.

I broke a Guinness World Record, guys. Just imagine what else I can do – and how much more we could do together.

Because I imagine it all the time, you know. And it’s amazing.

Sometimes I even feel sorry for some of you, because you can’t see it, too.

11755921_10155861333240402_1787426817010759777_n

Rambling Mind

I don’t understand what’s going on. At all. Maybe nothing. I have no idea. There is, of late, a huge disconnect between my inner and outer realities. Add a healthy dose of PMS into the mix and the confusion is overwhelming. So isolating. Perhaps I am just succumbing to my usual paranoia and uncertainty. Though it’s often been right in the past – can it still be deemed paranoia if it ends up being correct?

Meh. Questions without answers, really. Better to just keep plodding along and wait for my next break.

I have my next MRI on Sunday. While I’m technically hoping it will be a quick session, I feel it’s much more likely that it’ll be one of the long 45-minute-IV-with-contrast-material types, instead. It makes more sense, since it’s just my annual check-up type one and they’ll want to get as much detail and cover as much territory in the scans as possible. I just really hate those ones, and am running out of ways to entertain myself while in the tube for that long. However, at least it’ll be over with, and since Monday is a holiday, I’ll be able to just relax and do nothing, if I want, the whole next day. That’ll help. Usually I feel more than a little off once I come out of the machine. I know it doesn’t do anything to me physically, but my mind feels cloudy, anyway. Maybe from focusing on remaining still while not letting claustrophobia set in.

There should be a law against cologne – or artificial scents of any kind – that I can smell even if I am not near you. Seriously people. What kind of nastiness are you trying to cover up by dousing yourself so completely in something else?

Anyway.

I’m frustrated at this whole not working Saturdays thing. I know, sounds weird, but there are several reasons why I’m feeling this way. Aside from the fact that it’s a shorter work day, and earns a longer weekday off, which is sometimes enough. But it would give me the opportunity to do other things I want to do sometimes. Like go to the zoo. I hate going on weekends, through the summer at least, because of the hoards of sweaty hairless apes in my way, ruining my Zen thing. But if I want to go on a weekday, I have to burn a vacation or sick day to do it. I got turned down for volunteering at the Wildlife Centre because the weekend shifts are first to go, and those are the only ones I could do. I probably wouldn’t be a Big Sister again anyway, but that’s another thing I can’t do. Not the in-school mentor program, at least. I can see my therapist if I book an appointment first thing and then head to work after, which doesn’t always have me in the greatest headspace for the rest of the work day. Sometimes it’d be better if I could just go home after and process. But I can’t, unless I am willing to burn a sick day, o vacation day, if I know far enough in advance that I won’t feel up to coming in that day.

Overall, it’s fine. I’ve just been feeling lately like I am having to give up a lot of the things that I’d enjoy or look forward to or benefit from in some way in order to continue receiving a paycheque. That is, of course, the most important thing, because without that I’d have far less opportunity than I do now. I guess I’m just sad that this seems to be all there is, and I am struggling to make even that much balance out. It’s depressing sometimes.

In other news, Mr. Brodykins has an appointment with the groomer on Saturday! He will hate every moment, except the ones where he gets to hang with Momma Kristi and ride in the car. Probably on her lap, if he gets his way. That’s his preferred mode of travel, after all. I hate leaving him there, knowing how miserable it makes him, but he does love being picked up after, and being told how utterly adorable he is. He likes to show off a bit, at that point. Maybe I’ll see about getting him some kind of little special treat for being a good boy. Because he’s always a good boy. He hates the whole grooming process with the seething fire of a thousand suns, but he doesn’t fight it. Instead, he freezes in his silent misery, and tolerates it all until it’s finally over. And then gets unnaturally excited when you put his collar back on.

Bless.

I love that little guy.

I don’t know. Maybe I’m just so in my head I don’t really know what’s accurate or real anymore. Or maybe my instincts are good enough that I’m getting the hints being put out there, but am just not certain enough to react. Maybe there’s nothing to react to at all. Regardless, I feel dumb, so hopefully I can figure out at least some of it soon. It’s seeming pretty manic, really. I’m still here, though, so as much as I am trying to sort some things out, I’m also trying to, like, live day to day life. It’s all I can think to do, sometimes.

Long weekend coming up finally, and then next weekend is the first one I booked off for myself. Four days in a row! I don’t know how I’ll manage NOT to give myself so much to do that I won’t get it done and then be disappointed in myself…but I’m going to try not to give myself so much to do that I don’t get it done and feel disappointed in myself.

A co-worker just asked if it was Friday yet – it’s like he’s reading my mind. I was just thinking how far away Friday still is, but that it’s kind of a good thing because I have a lot to do in the meantime.

I was looking up screenwriting contests yesterday to see if there were any deadlines I could aim for but realistically meet. I realized that I’m not anywhere close to ready to start writing the updated adaptation of my first book, though. I need to sort out the changes that will be made and how they’ll all go together with the parts of the story that are being kept. I’ll work on a new outline first, and then consider starting the script.

Why can’t things in our heads just come out on paper automatically?

Disconnect Frustration

In case you haven’t noticed, I find it very difficult to express myself in a way that other people can understand. I’m not sure how much of it is me, and how much of it is just lost in translation from my mind to another, wherein mere words don’t entirely suit our needs.

I struggle all the time to find the words I want for whatever it is I am trying to express, but from the responses I receive, I can tell I’m still not getting it right most of the time. It’s frustrating, because I often end up feeling a little bit trapped inside of my own head – in part because I can’t talk about some things in a way that someone else will understand the way I need them to, and in part because there are so many things I can’t talk about at all. When there are enough instances of both, it all builds up inside until I feel like I can barely think straight.

And waiting until it’s ready to boil over is of course not the greatest course of action! Yet for some reason I continue to allow myself to get lost. In…myself. Haha

Part of me hopes that writing something here every day – even if it’s not touching upon the things I really need to – will help in some way. Maybe I’ll even get better at expressing some of the thoughts, feelings, or whatever that heretofore have laregely remained unspoken and/or unwritten. Mostly unwritten, because if I think I am bad at writing, I am really horrible at speaking. It’s ridiculous.

Part of me is also convinced that this won’t help at all, and is basically a waste of time. It’s too bad that it’s only mid-February, but with a little luck – and my innate stubbornness – it’s possible that I’ll still be able to write every day for the rest of the year without skipping days or throwing in the towel, whether any of it helps, or not. I do hope I make some progress, at least, but I’m not holding my breath. I have, after all, met me! 😉

My vocabulary isn’t very large, but I think more of the problem lies in the fact that I’m not sure words alone really do the trick. No matter which words – in any language – to express that you feel sad, or angry, or happy or whatever you’re feeling, I think they just barely scratch the surface of the experience you’re having of the actual emotion. That’s why so much gets misinterpreted online and in other written correspondence. There’s no tone of voice, there’s no visual representation of a person’s facial expression, or body language. Talking on the phone is better, speaking in person is even better, and one-on-one conversations in a quiet spot are probably the best. If you’re me, throw in some alcohol for the walls to slip further down and get a look at the real deal. Or as real as whatever is being felt in the moment.

Like, our minds and emotions so often lie to us. So freaking often. I sometimes wonder if I can ever really trust any of it. That might be part of the reason I feel so disconnected sometimes – I can’t trust myself, and I feel unable to connect with someone else long enough to bounce some of the things going on inside of me to see what they think. To get another perspective; one that isn’t bottled up inside with its pal, Melodrama, lying to me. But when I can’t connect – when there’s faulty wiring and what I’m trying to express isn’t coming out nor being received properly, the effect is that I feel further away from the person I’m trying to talk to than ever. And that makes me shut down and shut them out even more.

Well, it doesn’t make me do that – I have to take responsibility over my own self and my reactions – but it makes me want to, and a lot of times that feels like the same thing.

The other problem is that I hate feeling like I’m just talking about myself all the time, and not reciprocating in the listening department, or that I’m trying to spend all my time getting something out that I don’t let anyone just relax and have fun. I have trouble understanding in the moment when to draw the line and just let conversation flow to things that have nothing to do with me, or that are just silly and fun instead of more pressing or serious. Like, just because something is eating up my mind doesn’t mean it has to be on everyone else’s. Or anyone else’s. I’m pretty good at keeping it to myself and pretending it’s not there – unless I get started. Then it’s hard to stop. And equally difficult to find the balance. At least until I figure out that either no one wants to talk about it, or I’m just not saying things in a way that helps them understand. Then I have no problem just stopping and folding back up inside myself.

I got so good at folding up that I’m not sure I even know how to unfold, really. I don’t really know the difference between sharing bits of myself with someone, or just talking things out until I get a better grasp of whatever I’m thinking or feeling. I can’t just say I’m anxious about something and expect another person to understand why I’m anxious, particularly if I don’t know why, either. Sometimes I feel the need to just talk through something until I have a better handle on it – like bouncing it off a sounding board. Either it begins to sound true to both of us, or talking about it helps me realize it’s not whatever I thought it was. That’s where connection lives. Most of the time, though, I can’t get to either of those points, and end the conversation just as frustrated and confused as it was when I started. Only lonelier, because my attempt at connecting was a failure and all I can do is sit and stew in it, feeling like I couldn’t break out of my shell even when I wanted to, and therefore will never really be close to anyone ever.

See? Melodrama!

I’m not sure I know how to talk or share or express things with another human being. Sometimes I’m not even sure I want to, but there always comes a point when I need feedback, even if it’s just to stop the lying spiral in my mind and set me back on course. I’m sure it’s doable in baby steps, like everything else, and on some level, this blog is pretty baby step-y.

Except for all the things I can’t put here.

But that’s what therapy is for.

Now I just have to realize that friends aren’t therapists, and figure out where to draw the line, even as part of me is a little sad that the person closest to me is someone I have to pay to connect with me! 😉