the universe is shaped exactly like the earth
i just read Saving Francesca for like... probably the fifth time, ever, but the second time this month. i can't explain how truly beautiful this book is: one of those rare gems in YA lit that make the entire genre worthwhile. it's supposed "chick lit" but it isn't at all, it's so much more than that because it's so accurate and poignant and real. there is no plot or climax, really, and it makes sense because when you have years like that, there is no fucking climax. there is no high point. it's one steady line that somehow, one day at a time, you survive. and it isn't dramatic because nothing feels dramatic to you, it just feels like shit. it just feels like nothing, ever, and that's what makes it so terrible. you can sleep through days and barely notice because what are you missing? nothing. a waking sleep.
read it, all of you, read it. because it's great.
the other day in class --
well, back up. the way i've "taken notes", since the very beginning of high school, was mostly just me free-thinking and writing it down and, occasionally, jotting down something relevant. so you can see, for example, in my ninth grade bio notes, a steady stream of OBMSers and chorus bitching and then randomly like, the definition of an allele. and in this way i chronicled most of high school and then, later, college, but because of its origins what really has been a hard copy LJ is referred to (in my head and in my filing cabinet) as "notes". just, Notes. one more euphemism slapped on my life because, why not?
anyways. so the other day in Ethics i'm taking "notes" (henceforth referred to simply as notes) and i'm making two lists:
things that would have made high school (specifically sophomore year) better
and
things that helped me survive high school (specifically sophomore year)
i made sure the first list was realistic, so namely, nothing that would have altered what was inevitable anyway. like, i couldn't put down, "alex isn't gay", or "i was taller" or etc. and on the second list, it couldn't be "my friends", or "making out with joey", because those are, largely, things i got to keep because i survived high school. does that make sense? like... i couldn't have pulled myself out of sophomore year by making out with joey, because that would only have been a bandaid. i had to do it on my own, and there were these little things that helped me along the way (mostly where i didn't expect them -- at least in retrospect).
i think there are three main things that would have helped me get through sophomore year better, and those are thyroid medicine, being allowed to take sick days, and my parents not making me switch houses every week. all of them would have been totally doable. all of them are completely reasonable. they just didn't happen, and i know it wasn't on purpose but mostly, they were the faults of my parents. and i wasn't able to articulate any of this at the time (particularly not the thyroid thing, obviously), but i was so angry with them all year and probably, these were the reasons. because what happened wasn't their fault -- it was like, something inside of me that i think was bound to happen anyway. but they managed it in the worst way possible, and that, especially at fifteen, was something i had an exceptionally hard time accepting and forgiving them for.
what helped me survive? sea shell being able to drive me home. basically living with jenny. the class of '08, who protected me hard even when i didn't know how badly i needed to be protected. the auditorium, which i always felt was this sort of giant womb, with that roaring fucking air conditioner lulling me to sleep in a year that i was literally TERRIFIED of sleep. madison kinney, being there in his own weird specific way. my TV and my music. weekends at home with my dad and fruit salad. it was a hundred little things that... they weren't like, these magic panaceas. it's not like they happened and everything was OK, but they made it tolerable. they alleviated stresses that otherwise might have been too much.
it's shit like this that's why i always say, i'm as weirdly lucky as i am unlucky. for all the unlikely shit that happens to me (like license suspensions and gay men etc), i have these pockets of pure grace. moments of salvation. there but for the grace of God, and also, of tropical smoothie and random mothers and teachers who knew me well enough not to fail me.
the other day -- the homesick one -- i was having a shitty day. capital S Shitty. and tuesdays are my longest day, with six hours of class and ten hours at school. and i was hungry, and i was homesick, and i was hurt by the fucking table debacle in interventions. and in practicum -- which is usually one of my favorite classes just because i love how spacey and strange and on my level dr. garinger is, and because i am always in my little friend corner -- i was done. DONE. not like, crying or anything super weird but like... not into it. so at the break i put my head down on my desk for a quick nap and dr. garinger is walking out the door and she doesn't say anything but she gives me one of those, "are you ok i'm here" back rubs as she walks past. and like, how great is that? how simple is that and how wonderful?
and it's really like... that was me every day in chemistry. every day. and ms. cooney -- who i love -- responded by giving me a two in conduct. like... i don't know. i think it's only recently that i've realized how much i'm in this field to become someone who i never had, who can say, something is not ok with this girl. maybe instead of yelling at her we should see if she's ok. because who did that? what teacher of mine ever did that? not sra. nolin, who had me for two years. not mr. phillips, who is still one of my all-time favorite teachers. in fact, the only person who i remember ever saying anything was of all people mz. winn, back in the end of freshman year when everything was slowly creeping up (so slowly, i suspect i hadn't even noticed). and she did it in her own mz. winn way but like, at least she did it.
i don't know. i think i've just made it seem like i'm harboring a lot of resentment about that, and i truly am not. i truly love all of my teachers that year (except van waash and kirkwood but like honestly), and i don't blame them. but learning what we know now, and knowing how it's supposed to be dealt with, it's crazy to me.
and, lastly on this topic, it's I N S A N E to me that in a family as literally crazy as mine is, we talk about it so little. like as a kid you're just taught like, oh something is fucking wrong with you you need to see someone, and it's all so fucking hostile and so because you're a kid (and a human) you think like wow, i must be really sick. something must be so wrong with me i better work really hard to make it better. and then you grow up and you realize, my mom is sick the same way. and my grandma, and also her mother who used to stick her head in the oven. and even though this fault line runs so deep in our family that it's basically the same as out thick upper bodies or triangle eyes or cancer, no one says a word about it or deals with it in any way. we just yell at our children who are terrified already of what's happening in their heads.
so when i grow up, i want to be better than that. i want to tell me kids, baby, you are ok. you are ok, and i'm right here, and i'll be here even if you feel not OK. even if you feel really sad or really angry or really scared of being so sad and angry, i will be here and you are normal and everyone still loves you. nothing is your fault. the way you are is not your fault.
that's another Dr. Garinger gem, and she said it and i wrote it down immediately because it is so true and for some reason, it felt like the first time anyone had ever said anything like it: "it is not your fault. for whatever reason, the brain has become abnormal."
it's so true, and so simple and so obvious, and i don't know why it hit me so hard. i think in part because for whatever reason i've always fought really hard not to be capital C crazy, to instead just be a normal girl with normal mood swings who sometimes is sad and sometimes is happy. and maybe i am. but there have been times in my life where what i was experiencing was in no way normal, and i don't know why i fought so hard for me to think it was. maybe because when you're a teenager especially i think it's really unattractive to be needy in any way, or hysterical, or whatever. so you think, jesus, stop being like this. get ahold of yourself. other people aren't this crazy. and like... no, they aren't. they are blessed with brains that work normally. good for them. that isn't you.
i don't know why all of this is so everywhere for me right now. probably a lot of it has been saving francesca, and a lot of it is that i'm in a counseling grad program, and a lot of it is that i've started drunk crying again which is weird because i don't even feel that sad. but i came home after my birthday dinner and wasn't even that drunk, wasn't feeling sick or stumbling or anything. but i was sobbing so uncontrollably i couldn't read aloud to myself, and like, that is not great. and it's a thing that's become normalized in my life so sometimes i forget how weird it is, but like... yeah. not OK to be that hysterical over nothing. and i don't even think something is... like i've tried to diagnose it, and i've looked at bipolarity but it doesn't fit because for one i don't get manic and for another it's not prolonged enough for the symptoms to match up. and i'm not sad like that all the time (in this moment, and not for a lot of moments before this) so i don't think it's a depressive episode. but i think it's more than just normal drunk girl crying, just like it was at BFMC when i think the doctors were like, taken aback. i remember one of them asking, "baby, why are you crying?" and to me it was such a strange question because i thought, isn't it obvious? but i realized, it wasn't to them and it isn't to me.
i don't know. the thing here is that i do not feel i am in a bad place, or that i am even trending towards bad. i'm just thinking about these things, because they're important to think about.
this summer i ziplined for the first time, and i fucking hated it but i was pretty proud of myself. i wanted to do it for my girls, and to like, have that experience with them, but i was petrified because i do not enjoy that thrill-seeking bullshit at all. so as i'm sitting on this five story tall POLE IN THE GROUND i am like... i am going to vomit. but i thought to myself, athena, think about how much worse you have been through in your life. and i thought about alex and i thought about when brian told me he and ryan had hooked up and i thought about mallory and i thought about all those months of my life that i thought, this will never end and you will never be happy and nothing will be ever be ok again. and i thought, compared to those things this five story building is fucking child's play. if you can do those things you can do this one, and then i jumped and it felt awful but then the rope catches and you're ok. and you don't hit the ground or die and your stomach unclenches and you breathe again.
and that's how it is in real life, too. sometimes you fucking hate it and you think, i'm going to free fall forever until i die.
but the rope will always catch. and you will always breathe again.
you can fight the fire that's in your head