April 2006 Archives

I've been busy fugging myself.

two weeks to the day, and I'm never ceased to be amazed by my fondness for updating on certain days of the week. totally random, yet there's a total pattern. chaos theory, something and something, positioning of the moon, hormonal cycles... I have no idea. it's just how it goes.

so kristin gently reminded me this morning that it was time to update, and I have to agree I haven't been here in a while. my shows page are from february, I spent the blissfund a while ago, and it's just all been left by the wayside. on another note / page / whatever you want to call it, things are getting... different. shifting. less crazy, or maybe not less crazy but a different category of crazy? different.

see? this is what happens when I don't come here of my own volition. I'm all over the place.

swimming about bicycles. okay:

I was keeping a journal pretty much every day, of what I was eating and how much I was sleeping and how much I was paying attention to my extracurricular activities and when I was feeling hormonal and when I wasn't, etc. for the first... few weeks I think? of being on wellbutrin. I wanted to see what changed and when and what affected it and how and what the result was and am I really sad and depressed, or did I just eat too many carbs or not get enough sleep or what. and then I stopped, and didn't even realized that I had stopped until I picked my book back up to scrawl some random thoughts in.

so it's been about... a month and a half? seven weeks? ish since I've started medication and weekly visits to the psychiatrist, because I felt myself slipping away. crazy victoria was taking over regular victoria, and not in the way that all girls have crazy girl come knocking from time to time. like, sitting in my car, on the phone with the west coast, screaming and sobbing my eyes out because I finally knew what all those people had written about, that seemed so strange, that I could logically comprehend but couldn't feel: me, as I know her / myself, was starting to get shoved away into some recess of my mind, and some strange over-emotional scared five year old who was incapable of dealing with anything was starting to take her place. and even scarier than that was the feeling that this was a permanent change, that this was who I was becoming, and who I would have to adjust to being from now on. it scared the daylights out of me (whatever that means).

and so we went to talk to dr. hennen. about everything: that, my father's death, my mother's illness, what happened to me growing up, timelines of what I've been exposed to in different areas of my life, and how the relationship with raf - while not the cause of any of this - was feeling like the minefield where all of this was coming to light. where I saw him, about two months into dating me, starting to get this awkward, strange, pms prone, uncomfortable, not being able to get out of bed in the morning version of myself. it's almost like everyone else in my life knew my little quirks and inconsistencies, but to be all of that with someone new - it really brought it all to the surface. on top of this, work slowed down. a lot. and on top of having way too much time on my hands to think about all of this, I was (for the first time in a long time) unable to hide behind spending money. not like I was mommy warbucks or anything before that, but if I felt like crap, and I didn't smoke or drink, I could go drop a hundred dollars at old navy and really not feel to big of a financial hit. at this point, there's nothing left to hide behind, and I got pretty fucking uncomfortable.

and, as usual, everything is exactly as it should be. like a friend quotes on the bottom of his emails: life is in the right, always. and I believe it.

so we talk and we talk and I keep sleeping and I'm not writing and I'm not doing my dishes and I'm going out to take pictures but the sky's not blue enough and everyone sucks and eventually, the good doctor and I start taking all of this stuff from a deafening scream to a dull roar to loud chatter, but categorized loud chatter, to Here Is What We Think Is Going On. and after this week, the combination of all of this... stuff, therapy and meds and meetings and meditation and eating better and all the things I know how to do to take care of myself - after all of this, I come up with the following shocking conclusion:

things are kind of okay.

well, I came up with it after some doing some writing therapy where I back up from freaking out (okay, what happened before that, and before that, and before that, okay what changed from being okay to not being okay, etc.) and it probably doesn't hurt that the meds are around the time where the should be helping things along... but whatever it is, it got a couple of notches quieter.

so things are kind of okay, but the bad stuff is still there, but it's not this pile of stuff that's about to eat me alive anymore. I've got stuff going on that anyone would have a hard time with - mom, finances, a new relationship, hitting my 30th birthday, and doing some evaluation with that and coming up on my anniversary - and I'm coming out of the coma I've been thinking myself into. I'm broke, and I have a little too much time on my hands to sit around thinking about myself and all of these fears and problems. I'm wondering What I Should Do With My Life.

but, really, things are kind of okay.

I think dr. hennen is right, that I was starting to see physical and mental symptoms as a result of stress and depression (the sleeping, the lack of interest in things I love, etc.) and it's funny how the medication is helping that - when I took wellbutrin to quit smoking, it kind of felt like when I used to take adderol for fun, only on a much smaller scale. now, it doesn't make me high at all. just like how percosets don't give you a trip when you're actually taking them for pain, they just fix the pain. that's how I (think I) know that this is the right course of action.

on top of that, when I do the i over e trick (put intellect over emotion) then things are better than okay. things are actually pretty good - getting published, losing some weight, having these great opportunities to do what I really want to with my life - after writing up a rough draft of my bio for kristin, I realized that I had everything that I'd been asking for: that I wanted to have enough money to pay my bills, but not too much (because I still don't handle it well), and a flexible enough schedule so that I could do what I really want with my life. and that's exactly what's starting to happen. that, and had things not gone like this - especially being stripped of being able to hide behind finances - I may have never been pushed to the place where I had to to Figure This Out. and I know it's going to make me better, getting through whatever this thing is that I'm in the middle of. so I should be grateful - because I've got it pretty good. it's not about what I don't have, or comparing how I feel to how other people look.

know what else I figured out today?

I'm a photographer.

no, really.

I just framed up a few shots for jury selection at the stony creek library - and they're sitting on the floor leaning up against my desk, all matted and fancy looking - and I've never done that with my work before.

With My Work. because I have Work. because I'm a Photographer.

awesome.

so on top of all of this, I'm "regaining interest in my activities" and all the things that fall by the wayside with minor depression are starting to change. I got up at 8:30, which might sound late to some of you, but I was averaging around 10, having gone to bed at 10 or 11 the night before. and last night I went to bed at midnight. I've stopped wearing sweatpants every day. I mean, even though I'm just in a t-shirt and jeans, I'm not running around unshowered in my pajamas. I'm spending a little less time at the office because there's not much I need to be here for, and when I am here and there's not a lot of work to do, I'm looking for part time jobs and working on my photography and writing my bio and stuff.

I'm waking back up. it's been a bumpy road, but there's finally light at the end of the tunnel.

so what else... in the midst of all of this, I've barely been listening to any new music at all, and I haven't been going to any shows. john roderick could have been playing at firehouse 12 and I might have found a reason not to go - it was really getting that bad. I'm here for a few hours a day at best, I'm barely listening to kexp, and I'm sure as shit not making all my "current rotation" lists of things I like and albums I want and mixes to make and bands to see live. I only went to go see tom brosseau because I've made friends with him and mary. and the guilt of not going was eating me alive - and I still almost didn't go, until kelly suggested taking the train in and making it fun for myself. so I haven't been literally under my bed or anything, but I haven't really been getting out much. I finally made it to see a few movies I'd been meaning to get to over the last week or so.

so you can imagine my lack of interest in kexp's annual spring trip to new york. I sent out the email a month ago like I always do ("hey, I'd love to help out, etc. etc") and when it came time to make the decision about it, my heart just wasn't in it. and that's only part of it, the other part being that new relationship stuff, and the man I'm dating (yes, not boy! it still looks funny...) wanted to make turning 30 special for me because he knew what a hard time I've been having. single, even in the state I've been in, I probably would have pulled it together to go, half heartedly, and had a good time because I love new york and I love the station and it would have been great. but with the option to do something else, and that something else being a wonderful long weekend in new york planned out by a wonderful man who wants to spend uninterrupted time with me so we can just be in love and take great pictures - the something else won out. and I had a hard time deciding, still, even not knowing any of the bands that are coming and not really being too excited about it - because I don't want to miss any opportunities, I don't want things to fall by the wayside like they have been... but the flipside is too that to a degree, now that I'm a We, We make decisions together - and I didn't want to push raf aside and go barrel through the week when he had taken the time to do something so great for me. kexp's not going anywhere. my 30th birthday is only coming once.

so it's two nights at hotel 17, a broadway show, and a lot of walking around. and a LOT of pictures. I'm sure it's going to be a blast, and I'm sure the station will live without me. hopefully all my awakenings will be in full force by the fall so I can go kick ass for their visit during cmj. but that's a while away, and I'm really trying to stay present.

holy emoting all over the keyboard batman. so that's the update.

xo

~vvb

there's piles of laundry to the right of me on the floor, and the adjacent web page box to this one shows that I have roughly $743.00 to my name. that would be awesome, except I owe my mom two hundred bucks, the credit card company a mere seven thousand, another ten for the car, and another almost ten to the timeshare george fucked me with that I can't afford to use.

did I mention he just bought a multi-family downtown with his girlfriend? with credit I helped him to fix? right. I'm not bitter. at all.

no, really. get married. love each other. peace be with you (and also with you, handshake) - just make sure you live together for a while. please. and when you think you really know, do it for like, another year. I mean, if they're the one, they're not going to go anywhere.

but - sigh - everything that I have been through piles up and becomes, well, me, this, now, here, Who I Am.

so, right. $743.00, and $27,200.00ish in bills. what's that, like less than 3%?

awesome.

mom took pity on me and bought me a new bed. it's a nice one too, not some stupidly priced top-of-the-line brand name bullshit, but a good quality mattress and boxspring and frame made by these old guys in a shady part of hamden for less than a third of what it would cost in a fancy store with mirrors. I bring up the mirrors because in talking to him, he goes, "those, you know, stores, with all the mirrors and stuff? you pay for that. I mean, it's not much to look at here, but we make mattresses. just as good as they do. better." and he was right, the low-fi of it all, dusty floors, cluttered office, and a small area of all the different grades of beds, probably about nine of them. I sat on a bunch and asked what they all cost and picked one of the two reasonable ones. reasonable being mom is buying me a bed, so we're not going to get the piece of shit, but we're not going to get the one we want. we're going to go a notch above piece of shit - which is still completely respectable - and save the big bang for cohabitation. if that ever happens. the clock is ticking, people... well, no, not really.

jesus there's so much running through my head, I hope I can type fast enought.

yeah, so, not really. that's just something I'm conditioned to say, thirtieth birthday looming, what have I done with my life, blah blah blah I've typed it all up for you before and I'm not going to go into it again now. I almost want to, just to reinforce my self-proclaimed awesomeness, but I'll refrain. and besides, I said it already - good, bad, or indifferent, everything that's happened in my life up until 10:54 pm today, this very thursday, has created who I am. and based on this week's conversation with the psychiatrist, I should be WAY more fucked than I actually am, so really, I'm doing much better. and I didn't even have to do anything. don't you love it when that happens?

so kristin has been wearing slippers everyplace (and using lots of links, which I am following suit with, because I think it's cool and I want to do it too, and it's helpful and informative and stuff) and I've been in my sweatpants, like, forever. it started about... the spring after the ex and I split, valentine's day 2005 in cabo, when my fat summer clothes barely fit. and I boxed up the best stuff and threw away everything I didn't even remotely like and opted for lots of stuff with elastic waistbands. and so the weight became excessive, and then I saw some pictures of myself, and then I began Doing Something About It, and we've been on the road to steady improvement ever since. but I've gotten into this bad habit of wearing sweatpants everyplace, and the thing is, well, I guess I have to tell the whole story.

so I get all fucked up about jobs telling me what I have to wear, because they should respect me for me, and not the kind of shoes I feel like wearing - and the thing is, that's accurate, but only to a degree. because now I am more Grown Up and There Is A Time And A Place for (insert capitalized Thing here), and sometimes that means playing the part, not to compromise self, but just out of... whatever. self-respect, respect for others, dress codes for fancy buildings, it can be a bunch of stuff. so couple the elastic waistbands, excessive sleeping, and general depressive state, and now I'm really wearing sweatpants everyplace even though it's completely unnecessary, and sometimes inappropriate. and I talk about it with donna, and she goes, well, all of that might be valid, I don't know, but this stuff usually has something to do with self-esteem. that's all I've got. you'll figure it out. keep showing up. I slept alot too when things got tough, because it seemed like all I could do then, and someday it will probably happen again, and it's okay. but this aversion you have to wearing pantyhose has nothing to do with the pantyhose, or the people who are telling you to wear the pantyhose. it's about you.

so then, let's couple all of this - brought about by a soon-to-be change in workplace / dresscode / commute / everything - with a bunch of realizations and awakenings and you know, maybe it's not about me being who I am through my clothes defining me, blindly, like all the cattle people addicted to shopping - maybe it's about my insides matching my outsides, for once, consistently. like how I felt all dressed up for raf's family and his grandmother's wake and funeral, and how I felt more like myself than I have in a long, long time. like, maybe, there's a good way to do that without letting it consume you. not in the way where these shelves / this plant / my wardrobe / my hair has to be here / bigger / better / more expensive / hot pink so that my world will be okay, but... maybe just a little of it might be helpful. a few more skirts, and it wouldn't kill me to upgrade my flipflops, and maybe some of those better fitting jeans might be able to be squeezed into. the me I was before I got lost inside trying to figure myself out is trying to resurface, polished and patched up and scarred but in a good way (yes, scarred, not scared) and these hard-and-fast things and rules and horribly uninformed opinions I had about everything - maybe there's a time for some shifting. some room to grow, if you will.

tonight it peaked out again, the same way it did last weekend all dressed up, walking down crown street past the bars and bar-goers and people standing outside restaurants smoking cigarettes... and I go by, blue sweatpants, hoodie, ponytail - like I have every day for a while - and people looked through me. and it's not the most important thing in the world, in the respect that I could give a crap what people I don't know are thinking or not thinking about me, but - some of them just looked right through me. all the fancy clubs and expensive shoes, and me, in fuzzy flipflops (almost slippers), going, it wasn't always like this. I was hot. I am hot, just not externally as of late. short hair. a few extra pounds. but... if my insides are so much better, how hard can it possibly be to fathom that maybe my outsides should match? like when you dress nice, and you know you look good - not necessarily trendy or expensive - and how it's like a suit of armor, a better you, you know? I don't think there's much wrong with that.

except me wanting to go spend a thousand dollars on clothes tomorrow. maybe like, a little bit of the massive credit card payment I'm making with my commission check tomorrow could go to old navy. and not for jeans or cargo pants, I mean, in the back, where you find things to wear to like, brunch and stuff. like an investment in myself. in moderation, like I said, not a thousand dollars, and not on the operative that doing this will Make It All Better (plants, shelves, hi steve, yes, here we sit, and I almost just said "in the same boat" but then I realized how cliche and bad that would be, so I'm stopping myself) and so, yes, so that's either some wonderful rationalizing of a shopping trip I can't afford or me doing a little bit of external caretaking that I've denied for quite some time now.

I think that's everything flying around in my head. I'm not going to shred open the whole therapy session here, nor will I take the space to talk about the thing that I did that I don't usually do that has now made my life a little annoying and uncomfortable, but it's funny as all hell, and I'm glad I had the experience of it... oh, and the frames are playing summerstage on august 3rd. cool stuff happens here too, sometimes at least. I wonder if glen hansard ever got my email.

kisses and new bed christenings and less belongings instead of more shelving units and slippers and happy repotted plants for all,

~vvb

it's 5:30, I've got a few minutes before I go get earplugs (for sleeping, not a show) and sushi and hit my regular friday night meeting.

I stopped to get my toes done today, a dark macintosh apple red, and had the woman put it on my fingers too. she looked at my hands and said something to the effect of, "no, short nail, no look good dark on short nail." I tipped her seven dollars and asked her to please do it.

I had all this stuff to write down before I started tapping away, and it's all gone flying straight out of my head. snapshots of little kids dancing and why I remember one night tripping at a dead show in philadelphia - and how sometimes it crosses over to a different party but in my mind it's the same room. how my mom's bones are deteriorating, and how it makes me think of something decomposing in a sped-up animation of itself. how this chipped red nailpolish makes me feel like a little girl and a writer all at once. I want to visit a lot of places and I'm in denial of the actual temperature and I don't know if there's a cvs downtown. my legs are cold but I'm leaving my skirt on, these new cheap chunky rings on my fingers make me happy, I love it when kristin updates, and really, I thought I had time to kill but I've probably got to get going.

more to follow - I know I said I'd put I pictures and they're coming. I swear.

~vvb