︎︎︎ get me outta here
Where the high school alternative/emo version of myself that never fully died
Photo taken by my dad in my hometown on 3.15.2021, words written Nov.30.2020
Well I didn’t make it very far that year, and I doubt I’ll make it very far this year in this weird online journal. But I found I need an archive online in some way of the different feelings I am moving through. I won’t be able to say names HAH - I cannot commit myself to that kind of conflict right now. But I will talk about various concepts that pop up often in my life like grief, mutual aid, spirituality, organizing, art world bs, being a human, life lessons, family, chosen family, conflict, union, etc. Basically everything that ever makes you a human. I highly doubt anybody will be reading this, it’s only for myself and for if I die and somehow someone is impacted by my work, they can have more details. To make me more human and take out the damn pedestal that gets put under my feet because I’m an artist (don’t get me wrong I love attention, but pedestals are not helpful to anyone). I’m really not betting anything on the importance of this at all, and that is really freeing tbh.
I am not super familiar with having hospice present. When my mom died it was really sudden in a lot of ways. Sure, she had chronic illness and I learned that normalcy was dragging along a oxygen machine wherever we went. So in a sense I knew she didn’t have as long as other mothers her age. But we didn’t have a slow burn out, it happened all of a sudden one day. So in many ways I am very grateful to have hospice, even though it signifies something really sad. It offers a bit of closure to all of us, but the situation in which my grandma could only receive hospice was a board and care which she hates and doesn’t feel peaceful in. Which makes me really sad. It makes me think a lot about how we lay our people to rest, and honestly as someone who talks a lot about grief in my work, I am not sure I am fully in relationship with that. She also doesn’t come from a culture where death is really normalized. Death is tragic, death is something no one really wants to talk about.
Yesterday my Grandma asked me to kill her. She wanted me to put a plastic bag over her head and help her die. And I don’t blame her. I know she just wants out of this pain, and she didn’t want me to see her like this anymore. She has suffered enough. And yet life force still keeps her going. It’s the worst kind of waiting.
I am trying to learn how to let go of the rising anger I feel when people morph the truth to feel better about themselves. I understand why people do it, I do it too. But I absolutely hate it about human nature.
Readinng Be Not Afraid of Love by Mimi Zhu this morning ( I highly recommend ) and am being reminded to listen to my shadows, to listen to myself, to hold myself accountable and to give myself compassion. I am also being asked to more deeply understand accountability and our understanding of consequences versus punishment.
I think deep down I always want my good parts to be the only ones seen. I fear that if I show the bad parts or if people see too much they won’t want to get to know me anymore. I want to trust that my friends would call me out on my questionable actions, but deep down if I crave only my ‘good’ being celebrated and seen - who would I then choose to surround myself with, what would I then choose to only listen to? I also know I have surrounded myself with very very genuine, amazing, caring, real people. And so I trust that they would say something too. I can especially trust that, if I make room for it intentionally and don’t get defensive.
Some lessons I have learned with some heavy shifts this year. I existed in deep portals of other peoples’ process and cord cutting. I faced grief in many ways, and still learning how to really sit with them. I learned about the depths of relationships - how our deepest fears rise to the surface when we feel safest. I learned about the ways I love and need to be loved. This new year I already asked for changes - and received them with ready and loving arms. Here are some of the reminders and lessons I hope to integrate for myself personally that hopefully can support you too. Whoever is reading this - idk
I haven’t been here in a while. I guess I kept to my own journal. Actually, I haven’t been writing as much as I used to there either. Truth be told, I have been ignoring some of the deeper parts of myself that are holding so much pain and fear. I’m afraid of what it means to acknowledge those sides of me. For people to see them. To admit that they will likely not go away, just change over time.