Uncontrollably Loud (and Working on Proud)

Off the top - hi Mom. Cause I know you'll read this. Just do so with the reminder of how long I've lived alone and how tiny I am. 

And maybe don't show Dad.

God bless the technologically inept.


Moving on: PRIDE

It's here. I'm only marginally queer. But certainly all sorts of weird.

I think all the best people are.

"Narcisist."

Yep. 

But I like to think I have good taste in humans too. I only want the wonderfully weird for my zombie apocalypse team and feel very fortunate for the ones I've coraled thus far. 


And if you feel that effort is over-zealous, irrational or outright paranoid, might I remind you: 


Circling back: PRIDE

While I personally don't feel my choices qualify me to participate in pride in the traditionally non-traditional sense, I'd like to think that the intrinsic nature of the celebration extends to the general acknowledgement and attempt at normalization of anything subversive.

"wat?"

I'M GONNA TALK ABOUT ANXIETY AGAIN. You should sense it by now. My issues expect it of you because they simultaneously make me very selfish [as a self-care based coping mechanism] but also hyper-aware of the emotions of those around me; which when coupled with what once presented as incredibly high intelligence/borderline autism [that has now been quietly corralled and streamlined thanks to the simultaneous dulling and calming effects of large amounts of marijuana during formative years] you end up with a multitude of tendencies that float in the grey area between compulsion and talent.

"wat?"

Weird people are usually super useful people thanks to/in spite of the things that make them weird people.

Those that ride the struggle bus also know how to drive; in shifts. 

Struggles subside. And it's interesting how our coping mechanisms naturally start to fuck off once you stop needing them. 

If you don't feed the monster, it can't grow.

But you can still see us, if you're looking. Plucked out of a crowd because you're trying too hard to blend in you end up standing out. It's inevitably going to happen every now and then because you can't control the uncontrollable or rationalize with the irrational.

"...wat?"

LIFE IS GOOD SO MY ANXIETY HAS LEVELLED BUT I AM STILL A BIZARRE LITTLE CREATURE AT THE CORE BECAUSE OF MY UPBRINGING AND INHERENT MENTAL INSTABILITIES.
FINE, BROOKE.*
I WAS TRYING TO BE ELOQUENT IN MY EUPHEMISMS BUT I'LL JUST BE YELLY AS PER USUAL

* Brooke: Human Filter


It's bound to slip and you're bound to slip up and expose yourself as the emotional craft project that you feel like.

But fuck it. Because the things that make you weird usually mirror the things that make you great.

You're just only looking at one side. 

While sometimes it looks like a motionless shell of a human, high-functioning is a real label that is achievable & maintainable; through constant, daily (if not hourly) self-awareness, maintenance and control. And if that sounds like a lot, it's because it is. But if you're in limbo, I promise you it's worth the effort.

You'll never be 100%. 90%, if you're lucky. But that's still a great number.

So in the spirit of "fuck it", the only festive spirit I'm physically capable of being in, here is an exercise in humility and a reminder that anxiety isn't synonymous with nerves or fear.

And that sometimes it's just down to fuck with you.

Pick your battles:

5. I have control issues. I try and use them to my advantage. But busy grocery stores full of idiots buying low-fat sour cream give me rage blackouts.

4. I look at my keys a lot when I'm out. Usually once an hour. 

3. In high anxiety moments, I find it almost impossible to form sentences or use my hands. I often gauge my levels by how well I can roll a joint. 

2. The "Happy Birthday" song is my first notable nonsense trigger and I was unable to be present for any rendition of it until high school. 

1. I smell books. Especially if the pages are thicker. 

Taylor Oakes