LIBRA (Sept. 23-Oct. 22): I'm all in favor of giving special aid to
people with learning disabilities. But I think that geniuses should
receive an equal boost. I bring this up, Libra, in order to draw an
analogy to your current situation. You've been spending a lot of energy
attending to the weaker parts of your nature, while neglecting your
brilliant aspects. Here's what I propose you do to balance the ledger:
Hunt down a tool or experience that will stimulate your greatest talent.
And remember, just because your natural gifts come easily doesn't mean
you should neglect to develop them into super-gifts.
(from Freewill Astrology)

Er. Ah. Hi.

It's been a while, hasn't it?

As a summary of the past couple of weeks:

On the first of March, I spent about an hour crying; crying because I'd been dealing with the medical establishment all day, crying because I hated myself and I hated my body and I hated the doctors that never believe me when I tell them I know what's going on with me. I was honestly startled by my own capacity for tears; I think at the end I kept crying because I wanted to see just exactly how long I could keep crying before I ran out of tears entirely.

Under the pain I was sobbing out, there was astonishment; I never used to cry. Even when I fell off the fence when I was ten and split my head open, I didn't cry; I was grumpy because my leg hurt (I'd scraped it on the way down), but I never shed a tear. And even when I'd break down in front of Chris, though the sobs were real, there were almost no tears.

What triggered this particular bout of crying was a kindness; a friend who also has PCOS posted in a conversation that I was her hero; for giving her a name for all of the shit she'd gone through and spurring her to seek help. I just broke down; not because of her message but because I'd been fighting tears all day and it was that one last kindness, one last emotional reaction that shattered the wall I'd been reinforcing all day.

I did feel better after my crying fit. Wrung out, empty, hollowed of all my pain. But better. Not hurting.

And a couple of days later I made the (startling to me but probably pretty obvious to everyone else) observation that, yes, I was depressed. Probably had been for a few weeks. It snuck up on me slowly, grabbed me around the neck and then refused to let me go till I had acknowledged its presence.

I did a few of my usual "Go away, depression!" things, and over the next few days, it did actually go. I'm not quite back to normal, but i'm closer to it than i was. It seems too easy. Say, "Yup, I'm depressed", buy a new book, work out some, start looking at sunsets, spend some time with people who i love, and *poof* it's gone. Where is the desperate soul-searching, the monumental work, the sniffling and the self-pity and the time spent among my old journals and notebooks?

I've heard depression called the "common cold of the soul". This is the first time I've actually understood that phrase. Sure it was upsetting and painful, but it responded almost immediately to treatment.

This is a profound change, for me. I'm not sure how much to trust it.

This is all new territory, now.

And then there's the thing with Chris.

This is the beginning of the story. The middle's mine to tell, now.

I'm the one who's comfortable with the space between us. I am always the one who's pulling away, wiggling out of his arms, running barefoot away from him. He's worked for years to get close to me, like a wildlife photographer who learns the habits and patterns and builds blinds to get close to his quarry.

So we start out far apart. We start sliding together, slowly; getting closer and closer, until i forget to be nervous and lose most of my fear.

And then, inevitably, he takes one step too many. Takes one too many steps over the line. I realize where I am and the fact that I'm *way* too close to him for my own comfort. and I freak. At least, at this point, he knows better than to block my exit; some of the worst wounds I've dealt him were from times when he'd been basically cornering me.

Now, a lot of this is my own damage. I have to admit that I'm hypersensitive where he's concerned, mostly because we have such a history of intimacy that has been uncomfortable for me. But, as he says, I'm comfortable at one end of our intimacy spectrum, he's comfortable at the other end, and the middle doesn't make either of us really happy. We've talked, nothing has changed substansially. I don't know if it will. I wish there was an answer, but there isn't. Not one that both of us agree on.

He's learned how I speak, and what I do, and what each of these mean. He's studied me as if I were a textbook, as if I'm going to be on the final.

I don't know what's wrong with me, sometimes. Most girls would do anything to have someone be such a constant in their lives, so warm and loving. I don't know what's wrong with me that I don't want that, would live without it, love him but keep him at a certian distance.

I've got another path in mind.

Seattle Webgrrls is dead.

Time of death was approximately 2:15 PM (the last message that I recieved from the list).

I'm not going to go into the details, except to say that online communities are nomadic tribes. And people won't pay for a place to have their community if there's another, better alternative.

It was a good group. I'm sad to see it go.

one part of me just wants to tell you everything
one part just needs the quiet
and if i'm lonely here, i'm lonely here
and on the telephone
you offer reassurance

i will not take these things for granted

how can i hold the part of me that only you can carry
it needs a strength i haven't found
but if it's frightening, i'll bear the cold
and on the telephone
you offer warm asylum

i'm listening
flowers in the garden
laughter in the hall
children in the park
i will not take these things for granted
anymore

to crawl inside the wire and feel something near me
to feel this accepting
that it is lonely here, but not alone
and on the telephone
you offer visions dancing

i'm listening
music in the bedroom
laughter in the hall
dive into the ocean
singing by the fire
running through the forest
and standing in the wind
in rolling canyons

i will not take these things for granted

I was cited in someone's school paper!

How cool is that?

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