After 6 days in Seattle, I went to Casper, Wyoming. The last five days have been full of new things and Yellowstone. On my plane ride back to Seattle, I will blog. Can I force myself to blog? I need to.
I think I was infused with a new appreciation for things.
Monday, September 9, 2013
Thursday, September 5, 2013
Bus Rides of Seattle: Just the Beginning
Hazzah, Hazzah. As my thoughts of what could implode based on U.S. military action in Syria race dramatically through my mind, I am forced to recollect some thoughts I have had on a different matter while riding the bus today.
Today, I got on the bus in the northern Seattle neighborhood in which I reside, and a man playfully hit on me. I brushed it off and instead of getting annoyed by my common thoughts of gender and what it means to be considered as a sexual object as a queer woman, I began to think about race. I thought about the race and ethnicity of the men that usually hit on me. (Please note that I am generalizing only behaviors of men that I as a white woman, have experienced and witnessed to other white women. Since, I am not a woman of color I don't feel I could comment on this experience.)
First note: When I reject the advances of white males, I usually get an aggressive response in which the man usually begins to degrade me in either appearance or character. It feels as if my rejection was not justifiable, even if I am queer or not available. They felt they had a right to my body or person and I violated their right by refusing to indulge them.
Second note: When a male of a minority hits me, and I reject him, he usually persist with sexual remarks in attempt to reassure me that a sexual experience with him would be pleasurable. Sometimes, he doesn't but I am usually left with a remark like, just remember you are so cute or beautiful, etc. It feels like when rejection happens minority males feel like they can't use their character to attempt to persuade me... like the only way that I would be with them is for physical reasons.
Don't get me wrong, in both instances I feel objectified, but when race comes into play I find that there are remnants of structural racism that pervade the objectification of white women. I mean to say that the tactics are based on a presumption that the white woman may hold racist views and they must be played into.
Again, these are just thoughts but I think this would be a great sociological study.
Today, I got on the bus in the northern Seattle neighborhood in which I reside, and a man playfully hit on me. I brushed it off and instead of getting annoyed by my common thoughts of gender and what it means to be considered as a sexual object as a queer woman, I began to think about race. I thought about the race and ethnicity of the men that usually hit on me. (Please note that I am generalizing only behaviors of men that I as a white woman, have experienced and witnessed to other white women. Since, I am not a woman of color I don't feel I could comment on this experience.)
First note: When I reject the advances of white males, I usually get an aggressive response in which the man usually begins to degrade me in either appearance or character. It feels as if my rejection was not justifiable, even if I am queer or not available. They felt they had a right to my body or person and I violated their right by refusing to indulge them.
Second note: When a male of a minority hits me, and I reject him, he usually persist with sexual remarks in attempt to reassure me that a sexual experience with him would be pleasurable. Sometimes, he doesn't but I am usually left with a remark like, just remember you are so cute or beautiful, etc. It feels like when rejection happens minority males feel like they can't use their character to attempt to persuade me... like the only way that I would be with them is for physical reasons.
Don't get me wrong, in both instances I feel objectified, but when race comes into play I find that there are remnants of structural racism that pervade the objectification of white women. I mean to say that the tactics are based on a presumption that the white woman may hold racist views and they must be played into.
Again, these are just thoughts but I think this would be a great sociological study.
Yesler Terrace
In my adventures of the day, and my unwillingness to pay a bas fare for a two part adventure I walked three miles to South Seattle from Downtown. On the second part of my walk I was on my way to a meeting, a meeting in Yesler Terrace. I had some feelings about this walk, but I think this article captures my thoughts even better than I could: http://www.thestranger.com/seattle/the-twilight-of-yesler-terrace/Content?oid=15933703
Tuesday, September 3, 2013
Within the last few days, I have flown to California, packed up all of my belongings, and drove to Seattle. The last three days were full of memories with my friend Julia at BumperShoot.
But, I got my healthy dose of trashy t.v. in tonight... and I watched as a group of people went up to a horse and told the equine therapist why they would be scared to clean the hoof of the horse. Of course, in my sensitive nature I began to tear up. Why? What would I be afraid of if I had to complete the same exercise? Well, I would be afraid that I would hurt the horse. What does that mean? I have an extreme sense of guilt about doing what I need to do in order to succeed, and possibly hurting (or at least feeling like I have hurt others) in getting there.
What would your biggest fear be? How do you think that translates into your current emotional state?
But, I got my healthy dose of trashy t.v. in tonight... and I watched as a group of people went up to a horse and told the equine therapist why they would be scared to clean the hoof of the horse. Of course, in my sensitive nature I began to tear up. Why? What would I be afraid of if I had to complete the same exercise? Well, I would be afraid that I would hurt the horse. What does that mean? I have an extreme sense of guilt about doing what I need to do in order to succeed, and possibly hurting (or at least feeling like I have hurt others) in getting there.
What would your biggest fear be? How do you think that translates into your current emotional state?
Tuesday, August 27, 2013
The last night
In NJ and I think I have officially lost all feeling in all of my limbs. If I could try to make sense of the truth, it would be too biased. I really have no idea what up from down is.
Christina Ann
On Saturday evening at 8:49pm, a little precious one was brought into this world. Christina Ann, you already have so many people in this world that love you.
Saturday, August 24, 2013
My Relationship With a Biploar Person
Lately, I have found it hard to write large pieces rather fragmented thoughts. Lately means the last year or so. I am not sure whether this is from my last year of college and burn out or trying to navigate the world in a different way post graduation. Post-graduation life almost hints that there is less room for error and more of an incentive to succeed.
One of my biggest challenges this year has been learning how to leave behind and grow from a relationship that I had with a bipolar person. The relationship wasn't one that lasted consistently over a period of years, it was one that was off and on for 5 years. No romantic relationship that I have had before, during, or after has been as emotionally intense. My love was the strongest for the person, while being the most destructive to my self-esteem and self-worth. Unfortunately, I don't know if it is the same for the other person. The most painful part is that if this person could have gained control of the bipolar disorder, I really think that we could have been a family- a forever family.
I can recount the steps of attachment in our relationship. I first met him when I was at a party with his older brother. Then, as I got older, I had to move in with their family. I still really didn't notice him. I visited a lot and he kept in contact when I moved across the country for college, but at that time I thought of him as a little brother. That is when I noticed that he had challenges controlling his emotions and bouts with depression. I sympathized and wanted to be a source of strength. When I came home to visit from college for holiday breaks I would stay with his family. That is when our relationship started to change.
After freshman year, I begin to think I had romantic feelings for him. I did, and they were strong. We would talk at night and discuss everything. I knew his secrets, or at least I thought I did. How could I tell the difference? Every time I would come to see him over the next three years we would have the most intense rekindling of romantic emotion. When I held his hand, I could feel the electric running through my skin. At night, I wouldn't sleep because I was so enthralled to spend every moment talking to him that I could. However, every time I would leave in order to go back to school a sling-shot of negative behaviors would have me up against the wall fighting for air. This isn't to say that every time we were together it was positive or every time that we were apart it was negative, but that was the general pattern.
In fact, every time I was visiting a few days before I would have to leave to go home, he would start verbally attacking me or acting so distant that I would start questioning my sense of sanity/reality. Did we really just have that fantastic night on the beach? What he told other people and what I was experiencing was drastically different. I wanted to help him, because I knew he would be happier and it would benefit our communication and relationship. When I couldn't do it I felt like a failure. Could I have given him more, was a positive enough? Was I enough to make him happy?
I know that he is a great, kind, humorous, and thoughtful person. I saw it and I felt it. Hell, I LOVED him with everything that I had. Everything I did was an attempt to make sure that we would have a stable and secure future together. But I couldn't manage or navigate dealing with his bipolar disorder. I couldn't tell when I was talking to him or dealing with an episode. I'm not a doctor and I didn't want to be his doctor. I wanted to be his lover. The Bipolar disorder would leave me so distraught that I made terrible, hurtful decisions because I was unsure of how to protect myself.
The past year has been a struggle because I feel like I failed in dealing with a mental illness at the cost of a person I loved most in the world. I wasn't strong enough to distinguish him from his battle, and am overcome with a sense of guilt at the pain I caused because of that.
One of my biggest challenges this year has been learning how to leave behind and grow from a relationship that I had with a bipolar person. The relationship wasn't one that lasted consistently over a period of years, it was one that was off and on for 5 years. No romantic relationship that I have had before, during, or after has been as emotionally intense. My love was the strongest for the person, while being the most destructive to my self-esteem and self-worth. Unfortunately, I don't know if it is the same for the other person. The most painful part is that if this person could have gained control of the bipolar disorder, I really think that we could have been a family- a forever family.
I can recount the steps of attachment in our relationship. I first met him when I was at a party with his older brother. Then, as I got older, I had to move in with their family. I still really didn't notice him. I visited a lot and he kept in contact when I moved across the country for college, but at that time I thought of him as a little brother. That is when I noticed that he had challenges controlling his emotions and bouts with depression. I sympathized and wanted to be a source of strength. When I came home to visit from college for holiday breaks I would stay with his family. That is when our relationship started to change.
After freshman year, I begin to think I had romantic feelings for him. I did, and they were strong. We would talk at night and discuss everything. I knew his secrets, or at least I thought I did. How could I tell the difference? Every time I would come to see him over the next three years we would have the most intense rekindling of romantic emotion. When I held his hand, I could feel the electric running through my skin. At night, I wouldn't sleep because I was so enthralled to spend every moment talking to him that I could. However, every time I would leave in order to go back to school a sling-shot of negative behaviors would have me up against the wall fighting for air. This isn't to say that every time we were together it was positive or every time that we were apart it was negative, but that was the general pattern.
In fact, every time I was visiting a few days before I would have to leave to go home, he would start verbally attacking me or acting so distant that I would start questioning my sense of sanity/reality. Did we really just have that fantastic night on the beach? What he told other people and what I was experiencing was drastically different. I wanted to help him, because I knew he would be happier and it would benefit our communication and relationship. When I couldn't do it I felt like a failure. Could I have given him more, was a positive enough? Was I enough to make him happy?
I know that he is a great, kind, humorous, and thoughtful person. I saw it and I felt it. Hell, I LOVED him with everything that I had. Everything I did was an attempt to make sure that we would have a stable and secure future together. But I couldn't manage or navigate dealing with his bipolar disorder. I couldn't tell when I was talking to him or dealing with an episode. I'm not a doctor and I didn't want to be his doctor. I wanted to be his lover. The Bipolar disorder would leave me so distraught that I made terrible, hurtful decisions because I was unsure of how to protect myself.
The past year has been a struggle because I feel like I failed in dealing with a mental illness at the cost of a person I loved most in the world. I wasn't strong enough to distinguish him from his battle, and am overcome with a sense of guilt at the pain I caused because of that.
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