Hello from underneath rubble

Well hello there. Long time no blog.

The reason I've been absent it actually pretty embarrasing to admit in a public forum... especially when I haven't really told anyone in real life yet.

The last 8-ish months have been really trying for me. I think I can safely say that I've been struggling with my mental health, without getting TOO specific.

I have had difficulty mustering the energy needed to do the simplest things that I usually love - art, sketching, laughing with my friends. And that has ended in a lovely little spiral of negative habits.

Now I finally feel like I've interupted the spiral enough that I have a chance to breathe. But I'm not back on top just yet... Only not sliding down any more.

I wanted to quickly write about the sensation I've had lately, where I feel so awfully alone. Being an introvert, and a non-outgoing introvert at that, I find it difficult to reach out to people at the best of times. I recognise in myself a really bad pattern of not wanting to ask, or be vulnerable to people who I know would likely be there for me if I needed it - because I don't want to be rejected. Or be an inconvenience.

I feel bad enough for my husband, who has to put up with ALL of my crap... let alone someone who hasn't even married me.

I've found myself lying on my back, or staring out the window, thinking "If only I could just have someone who could be available to me." But feeling paralysed to reach out and ask someone to do that. And that ends up making me feel guilty, but also resentful - because I wish that someone would just be there for me without having to ask. Quite a self-centred thought, honestly. But that paralysis persists.

It isn't how I want to be. And it feels like I'm starting on a dangerous path, where I'm reinforcing these tendencies that don't serve me. I want to live honestly, and I am just not being honest. I have not been honest with most people for the better part of the last year. If you've asked me "How are you?" and I've said brightly, "I'm fine!" I was probably lying. And it is a harmless enough line, because you aren't socially expected to tell anyone who asks how you actually are... but even people who would probably listen haven't been given the truth. Because they'd get more than they'd bargain for. And it is scary to let them know that I'm struggling. Really struggling.

The perceived lack of availability, and my constant swing between despondency, guilt and resentment have left me alternating between depression and anxiety pretty regularly. Plus I'm awfully judgemental towards myself. I have discovered that I honestly believe that because I know better, I should just BE OK. SNAP OUT OF IT. Which is horrible - I'd never say that to anyone else struggling, yet I tell myself this... constantly.

Anyway. That's how it's been.
But with the help of my long suffering husband, I've finally sought the help of a psychologist, and I'm trying to learn acceptance and self-compassion.

I've started exercising again. And I've started yoga and meditation again.

I'm hoping that soon this self-care will translate to a more stable me. And a less empty me. One who feels as though she has the reserves available to do the things that make me happy, and make my loved ones happy.

Because that's who I want to be. I want to be content. I want to be available. I want to have enough in reserve that creative expression feels like a valve being released instead of pushing a boulder up hill, or an echo of something that used to be joyful.

And with that in mind, I will slowly, and lovingly, try to get up out of the rubble.

Gay/LGBTQ "Lifestyle"

I was on Tumblr the other day (not a shocking revelation if you know me...) and was reading a back and forth between some people who were arguing over the issue of marriage equality and LGBTQ rights.

I don't want to misrepresent anyone's views, but in the interest of providing context, the gist of the arguments were:
Person 1 - Arguing against someone's rights based on your own subjective opinion (based in religion or otherwise) is bigotry.
Person 2 - I'm not a bigot, I just disagree with the gay lifestyle, and I'm allowed my opinion.
Person 1 - Your opinion should not impinge on the rights of anyone, let alone a significant population. You voicing your opinion is tantamount to an act of violence towards those people.

So... quite the incendiary discussion.

And the thing that really hooked me was this strange concept of "gay lifestyle."

Let me first be clear - I'm definitely of the opinion that LGBTQ rights are human rights. That arguing against them is wrong. That you don't get to have an opinion on rights ... because they're rights. Well - I mean sure you can have an opinion... but no one should make any decisions over someone's rights based on an opinion. The right to education, for example - some people believe this should be restricted to males only. An opinion that we won't act on because education is an agreed right.

Now back to the 'gay lifestyle' thing now that you aren't reading this afraid that I might suddenly reveal myself to be a homophobe.

What on earth is a 'gay lifestyle'?!

It seems to me that people who make this argument are hiding behind a pretty flawed concept. "Oh I'm not opposed to people being gay at all, I just disagree with the  harmful gay lifestyle."

How confusing. Mainly because how do you describe the gay lifestyle? How do you describe any lifestyle in a meaningful way? I'll tell you how - by being wrong for the majority of people you are purporting to describe. I think you could describe an individual's lifestyle pretty well, even if it did reduce your experience to key factors and decisions that might not reflect the entirety of your life.

But when you extend that description to cover a group of people - and worse still, a significant percentage of the population - you are going to run into some problems. The problem of "average". For example, try to describe the "white" lifestyle. Take a survey of all white people, find the most common attributes and describe the lifestyle according to that - and then see how well that suits all "white people" ... not a very useful exercise.

Take the LGBTQ population, or even just the LGB population, and take a survey on their lives and try to apply it to everyone and see how many people are outside those parameters. You'll have the same problem. The only meaningful commonality for these people is that they all identify as LGB. Their actions, their lives, their experiences, their lifestyles are all different - sometimes vastly.

So I think the argument of 'gay lifestyle' is doing two things. It is hiding the real cause of the anti-gay-rights person's discomfort, and standing for a misconception on what being gay means, and what gay people's lives entail.

I don't know if it is deliberate or not, and in most arguments where this phrase is thrown in there is no further qualification but I think 'gay lifestyle' when used in this context is code for the perception of a reckless and morally inferior lifestyle.

There seems to be the perception amongst those who haven't been exposed to real life LGBTQ people, that their lifestyles and sexual orientations seem to revolve around sex, sex, sex. And that the reason that same-sex dalliances occur is because these people can't sit still long enough to find an appropriate person to fall in love with; they'll just fall in bed with the closest person and do whatever their bodies (not their minds) want them to do.

But I can tell you from experience, that this idea is nonsense. I mean sure there are probably LGBTQ people out there whose lives do revolve around sex. But that is true of some straight people too, and no one is attempting to remove the rights of all straight people based on the actions of a few of them.

I have two main examples in my life of the LGBTQ "lifestyle". The first one is my uncle. He is gay, and has been with his partner for as long as I have been alive (literally - they met within a month of my birth). They live in a house they've bought together, they have a dog, they both work and pay the bills, they enjoy travel, they worry about their ageing parents, they like to drink wine, and enjoy hosting dinner parties. In short apart for a couple of minor details they are pretty identical to my parents (who are straight, cis-gendered people who've been together for 35 years).

Pretty radical lifestyle, huh? I can see why you'd disagree with that... (Yes, sarcasm detected).

The second example is of the B in the LGBTQ lifestyle. Not too many people are aware that I am bisexual. Why? Well because my first boyfriend turned into my first serious relationship, turned into my husband and here we are. I live a 'straight' existence because I fell in love with someone of the opposite sex. So my lifestyle is literally exactly the same as someone who identifies as straight. Say, for example, my husband - a straight man.

So when people make this declaration of being opposed to the "lifestyle", alarm bells start ringing in my head. Either they are under a lot of misconceptions of what that means, or they are deliberately conflating the experience of millions of people under the banner of harmful stereotypes and misconception.

I am an eternal optimist who believes the best of everyone until proved otherwise. I understand that most people want to do the right thing according to how they see the world, and that everyone has motivations, needs and desires. But it is really hard to remember that when I see arguments or defences trotted out like this.

Not to mention the idea of "disagreeing" with someone else's lifestyle.  What a strange concept... as if your agreement has anything to do with anything.


I suppose I just needed to get that off my chest. It just makes me mad when people don't think through their arguments. Possibly because I try to be so careful in my own, that I'm as right as I can be, and as not-hurtful as I can be. Yes my view probably offends someone who holds to the whole "gay lifestyle = bad" idea, but I don't mind confronting that - because, if you've managed to read this whole thing... it is flawed.

In conclusion - there is no such thing as  a "gay lifestyle". Your opinion is not needed when it comes to human rights - they are rights, not privileges to be doled out at your discretion. It is high time we started viewing people, especially "other"/"different" people, as complex humans and not placeholders for stereotypes or misconceptions that we may or may not agree with.

Human Rights and Being Remembered

The thought has occurred to me more than once: the idea that in future generations, our actions and inactions will be judged with regards to equal rights, with regards to asylum seekers, with regards to many local and global issues of conscience.

And selfishly, this is a compelling argument. Because it is just too damn easy to "click like" and have an opinion, while it is hard to find something meaningful to actually do something.

I talk the talk  -  Australia's mistreatment of asylum seekers is reprehensible. And I, as an Australian, am unwillingly responsible for this violation of human rights, for this crime Australia's lack of action with regards to climate change is shameful, and will have permanent consequences for future generations who inhabit this earth that we are failing to care for. Australia's (slowly changing) attitude to LGBTQ rights (not just marriage equality) is embarrassing.

If I do nothing about these issues, I provide no incentive for those who need a push to act. Sadly there are people who need a political or monetary incentive to do the right thing... And by my inaction (and signing an online petition really doesn't do much...) I don't do anything to push the people in power to make the right decision; to make a decision on behalf of my country that I can be proud of.

And if I need any further reason to act, then, selfishly, I can think what future generations will think of me. I won't have any children, but my nephew (and future nephews, nieces, friends children etc.) can look back at our generation and judge us harshly. How could we have let this happen? Why did we not demand change not just by our clicking of social media buttons, but with our actions?

The funny thing about imagining the judgement of those future generations, is that you are really projecting your inner conscience. Which just goes to further reinforce what I already know: these issues deserve my action and my voice. I shouldn't have to defer to a hypothetical judgement to reveal what I know to be right and wrong.

And so I am trying to do things. I can't do a lot. But when I can, I lend my money - since that speaks loudly for me. When I can - I counter poor arguments; I challenge mistaken conceptions. And one day I'll get over my own anxiety enough to participate in protests and more confrontational forms of action. (No I'll never resort to violence).

I don't really know why I am writing a blog that no one reads about this... except to say that it helps to get my thoughts in order. This is what I think, and is what I believe. I suppose it is a manifesto of sorts.

Post-Celebration

So it seems that we are nearly half-way through 2015.
And what a strange year it has been, and will still shape up to be.


As usual, I feel like blogging when I need to figure shit out... And this has been prompted by my most recent trip away. I went to Tassie for the DARK MOFO festival put on my MONA in Hobart. It was... amazing. So much art, and food, and drink.

There were fires, and warm drinks, and fascinating art. What more could you want, really?

And then I come back here and spend my time at the same desk I've been sitting at for two years and wonder what I'm doing... Of course, I know what I'm doing: I'm earning money. Because without money I'm fucked.

But I'm starting to hope I might be able to find a way to make money that feels less pointless and wasteful. Because I do feel wasted. I'm a clever chicken, so I'm told. I have so much more to give than what I'm doing at the moment.


But how to take that risk? How to push? How to not be scared shitless of the down-side of risk... You know, the chance that I'll end up with no job, no money, and no security. I can't go there. I've seen my parents struggle there, and I don't want to do it.


So for now - I'm doing what I usually do at this point: I'm studying again (this time a combination of useful things and fun things - business and art), I'm sketching and painting to the point that I don't know what to do with the results, and I'm googling non-stop.

What exhibitions could I participate in? What art prizes could I enter? What other pathways are there out there? Where could we move to? What else could I do?


And that's where I am at the moment! Waiting for half my friends to leave (lots of people with big plans afoot), waiting to see if this job will offer me more (or if I could push for more), working on some study, and going crazy with the art.

There you go - the traditional "what am I doing with my life?!?!?!" blog: the foundation of my writing, it seems.

How I Am Not My Mother, Emily O'Neill

To be only bone. To be thin
chrome handle bars on a quiet bicycle.
Small & held like a pebble
underneath my tongue, assassin
of thirst. She used to run, before
all of the children. She used to be
knife fine. I saw a picture
of her glowing frown, her hips
with their ashtray curves. Muse
at dock’s end, endless black olive hair.
That’s what they called her:
Olive Oil. Angular, and animated.
I tore my voice off trying
to be uncanny, porcelain.
I want to be the same ghost.
I jog around the block,
a gasping hole in my sail.
Force my feet into tiny
wooden shoes and bleed.
Hope to become a lens
flare. A stoic.
Like her.

My First Lover Speaks to Me as I Sleep With Her, Raven Jackson (PANK magazine)

This is what it feels like to split the shell of a woman.

Shards of her everywhere. Animal light spread across

the walls. For a second, I feel like a boy entering
a woman for the first time. My skin shivering as if pulled

from the banks of a river. Clothes shapeless on the floor. When she moves
beneath me, I wonder how someone could enter her like a hook

thick as ropes. Tear her into two. And he comes to me as if I’ve closed my eyes.
The braided scar above his lip. The clench

of teeth on my ear. Like this, he says, showing me how to peel her back
like husks. Like this.

*****

Holy shit.

So much amazing.

Sometimes I go weeks without looking at much poetry. Some still filters in, thanks to some excellent poetry bloggers on tumblr (for example lifeinpoetry) and some poets, journals and magazines that I follow on facebook (for example Sam Sax, Australian Poetry). And PANK... when I remember to check it. But man, when I do...

Poems like the one above make me exhale audibly... make me throw my head back and say "fuck", or similar. 

They seem tangible, and I will be thinking about this poem for a long time. 

Audre Lorde, from “125th Street and Abomey,” The Black Unicorn: Poems

mother, illuminate my offering
of old victories
over men over women over my selves
who has never before dared
to whistle into the night
take my fear of being alone
like my warrior sisters
who rode in defense of your queendom
disguised and apart
give me the woman strength
of tongue in this cold season.