Addendum

It's just that respect is so conditional with him! I don't think I'll ever respect him, but if I said that, he would say, "Just wait until you're older and more mature."
FUCK. I don't think I know anyone that makes more mature decisions. I'm so goddamn law-abiding, that as a student I did not once sneak alcohol on campus, unlike numerous HPs. I don't think I, wait, ONCE, I drank someone else's alcohol on campus as a student. once.

It's like I'm allergic to rule-breaking, I'm so scared of authority. And he thinks I'm an idiot young person? When the hell do I start getting modicums of respect? When I've got a stable job? Oh, wait, my job is stable. When I get one in my field? No one graduates and works in the same field. When I wear a suit to work. Great, better dust off the suit and wear it to the coffeeshop. This is idiotic. If you don't respect me a little bit now, where is the rest of the respect going to come from?

And it's not like I started out hating him. I have a pretty goddamn healthy fear of disobeying authority figures.

Bout-to-Cry Build Up

I'm not sure what direction to go in, and feel too satisfied with my job and my apartment to want to move. I can't imagine going through the irritation of moving, just because I "needed a change." I don't think I'll ever really crave change for change's sake.

I'm really looking forward to teaching at art camp next week, but I wonder, is teaching self-absorbed? I can't help feeling that I'll enjoy it, but partially just because I get to be in charge, and I'll feel like I'll be important to other people. And for some reason, I keep rejecting that as a selfish reaction. I will want a job that

• lets me feel important, 
• where I can make decisions 
• and be in charge of something, preferably people. Working with people who give me things to do, but let me do the same to them would be fine, too.

And that's it, I think. The hell am I supposed to do with that? I feel like an idiot, now that I've done like ten minutes research into an internship with the Iowa House of Representatives. It's basically volunteering. And it sounds like volunteering to be a very unimportant gopher. I would be a good executive assistant, I think. But how would I get into that? And I'd like to be a part of something, not a glorified valet. I don't know, I think the more important issue is that I'm too scared and too satisfied to look. Like getting my car fixed...and buying a new one. I feel like I'm still too scared to really do much of anything important. I kinda started doing some workouts to do triathalons a few months ago, and just let it peter out.

And on top of that, I've had this feeling for hours now that I should be crying, but I feel too numb to. As if I'm on a brink of an emotional precipice. And I can't quite convince myself that it'd be ok to fall in. Even though I've done it plenty of times before.

Omg, I almost cried today acknowledging something dumb...what was it? Maybe it was talking about getting a new muffler for the car, I don't remember. It was just so disproportional. I mean, it's natural, because I've had this about-to-cry-feeling for about half a day. I almost wanted to watch tear-inducing movies to get it out!

This might be the most even-keeled state I've ever written a post in...but it feels so fake. Arg! I write that, but know that I yawned when I arged, too, so... But I can tell this mundane record is helping me access more resolved and more peaceful feelings. I feel a bit less emotionally plugged. I just wish I could let it out a bit more easily...but then again, I've never really identified with hippified "inner-goddess" nonsense! I realized today...I don't remember the last time I hugged Elena. We are so...do chill? So i don't know. Most of the emotions I associate with E involve solidarity against Bob's domineering personality and resignation to Mom's helplessness. He is such an ass. At what point does me saying that stop being a teenagery rebellion? I really wish I could sever more ties with him. It's just...he's inhabited my childhood home, my father's workbench, the ass. I can't get rid of him. And Alice even thought he might be emotionally abusive. uh.


I should journal more regularly. I think I let this build up too much.

Staying

What am I doing?
I graduated today.
And I'm crying so hard that I can't swallow because the snot in my nose is so thick and abundant that my ears will feel the pressure of a swallow.
Why did I do that? I could have just stayed and gotten a normal degree and I could have fixed my fucked up grades. (Cum Laude is so kind of embarassing.)
And what if I never see my best friend from this year again? We got so close this year, and watched so many movies and I'm going to miss him. Dammnit I miss him now! And he's just left town sometime... probably. I don't know. This year, he developed deeper friendships, and I, I just lonlied. Why did I do that? But I did this before! This feels like graduating from high school. Nothing like big celebratory events to make me feel lonely. But I had such a great year. I mean, it sucked, but I had the best spring I've had in three years. And now? Now I'm going to write out what I'll say to my mom when she tries to comfort me about a poem I wrote. She snuck a peek into the poetry compilation when I couldn't stop her.

And I miss dating. Not that I ever did much, but I miss feeling physically close, side pressed to side. And I want so desperately to cry in front of someone. Someone who I can be held by.

Everyone is so happy for me, so surprised, so congratulatory. And I just want someone to mourn my previous life with me. Even though I'm staying here.

Staying in the same place after I graduate is leaving and staying all at once. And it feels like it's mostly staying behind.

Lingering here after I graduate is leaving and staying all at once. And it feels like it's mostly staying behind. 

There are photos everywhere already, of everyone else. I have a few pictures others took, but I couldn't bring myself to ask for pictures of me on my phone.

• Was I celebrating? Or just mourning my success here?
• They were better friends with each other.
• Why should I draw attention to myself. I'm not really even proud of what I did--because I just rearranged my old accomplishments to get here. I had no finals, no senior presentation.

So now, I'm just, being here. No pictures on facebook to say the words for me: Surprise! I graduated with a less difficult degree because I didn't want to spend more time and money here after a mental health year! Yay!

A Museum Tour

I wish you could meet my Dad.

I would take you on a tour of Dad, like in a museum. “This is my Dad. Everyone says he could get along with anybody,” I’d say.

“Not always,” he’d say, and then he’d charm you and surprise me with a new story about that one time.

Moving along, in the next exhibit, you can observe his beer growler collection. You can tell he had taste because liked such a variety. And next to this perfectly preserved collection, there is an audio recording of him raving about the German beers he imported, in case you doubted his enthusiasm.

That collage right there shows him entertaining various children, mostly the kids of his sisters and my Mom’s friends. Note that dangling upside down by one foot technique: astute scholars of my father’s life will draw connections with my ability to entertain one- and two-year-olds by tipping them upside down while held in a tight embrace. It turns out, children find it difficult to cry when upside down.

Now we come to the sailboat wing. This one is the first one he owned. I actually saw it once, when Dad recognized it on our favorite lake. But this one is the one he brought everyone out to the lake to sail on during my childhood. I’ve preserved the feeling of the tarp on my fingertips, but luckily he’s the curator here, so he can answer questions about ropes and how to fly a hull.

As the tour guide, I would also be sure to take you on a detailed examination of his physical characteristics, in order to point out where I inherited things like height, teeth, my nose, and slight freckling as a kid.

And as always in a museum, I’ll probably learn something, too. People don’t like to tell stories about dead people being dicks. So how would I know about his prejudices?

If you met him, maybe I wouldn’t have to explain so much. My mere description would not have to stand in for a whole person. And my memories of Elementary school wouldn’t need prefaces. And you would just understand.

10th Birthday Cupcakes

My other memory of staying with my aunt is celebrating my birthday. She made cupcakes and had this really cool frosting idea she read about somewhere. We covered the top of the cupcake in vanilla frosting and then drew concentric circles in different colors of gel icing. Then we dragged toothpicks out from the center to create a web shape. I had such a good time making those. I used that technique later, at other birthday parties, I think. I don't think I celebrated with anyone other than my three cousins, my aunt, my uncle and my sister.

Church and Cancer Memories

The Summer I turned 10, my sister and I stayed with my aunt the week of my birthday. Mom and Dad had to fly to Houston for Dad's cancer treatment.

I went to Bible Camp. Or is it, wait, it was called Vacation Bible School. As you might be guessing right now, the bible is not exactly familiar territory for me. I think I remember liking it--it was kind of fun, and we had to work kinda hard to do stuff, like memorize verses. I let slip that I had never asked Jesus into my heart, which apparently was a big deal. The PIC (people in charge) said I should do that right away. So I prayed and said what they said I should say. I've always been a sucker for rule following.

My aunt's family is probably the most religious branch of the family. We prayed aloud at bedtime every day. I don't remember what I prayed about anymore. I don't even remember if we prayed for my dad.

The big G and the big J became big facets in my life that year, the way they never had been, before the big C became a big facet of my dad's life.

We didn't talk about it, and if we did I don't remember, but rather quickly after Dad was diagnosed, we started going to church. I'd only been to church over holidays, and then, only with Dad's parents. Elena and I both liked going to services because they had these zippered binders with art supplies in them, so instead of paying attention we could scribble furiously.

Mom never talked about it back then, but she definitely is an unbeliever. I wanted to believe, because all of the churchgoers said I should. Atheists, curiously enough, often have little to say about what you should believe. But Dad? Not sure. Maybe. Probably. Some of the things Bob said one time about his favorite songs made it sound like he did, and just didn't do anything about it because Mom was so...unbelieving. Well, I say that atheists don't have much to say about this, but I will add that Mom definitely needs to be convinced of someone's trustworthiness after she finds out they're Christian. Imagine her predicament when she found out the college I went to was sponsored by a church!

Every couple of years, Grandpa will make a particularly big deal about "those who are no longer with us"  (which includes my Grandma, now), in his Christmas prayers. I've never particularly liked it. I think usually I'm not associating my father with holidays anyway, because I would have seen him everyday anyway. It doesn't make sense to think about it more on holidays. But church...maybe a little. I don't think I really consciously associate church with my dad, but I almost definitely associate services and sermons with the religious people I met during that time.

The day my Dad died, there was a minister there, whose name I didn't even know. He made some awkward comment about holding my comatose father's hand. He might have also suggested that we say things to him, not sure anymore. It was weird. I totally resented him. He might have been the guy who ran the memorial service, too, but I don't know. I wish I remembered more, but it was so long ago. All I remember is that I felt uncomfortable. From the church service my aunt told me wasn't very formal, but still lent me a slip and a skirt for. That was definitely the first time I ever wore a slip--at just over ten years old.

Rambling about Change, Young Adults, and Communication

On a slightly lighter note...

I've noticed recently several of my friends independently confessing a desire to go somewhere new, somewhere fresh, where there were no friends and family to have any understanding or preconceived notions of who they were.

And today, I realized that I wanted to do a very similar thing: I stayed in Lamoni last spring, after leaving school, despite my mom desperately wanting me to come back home. (Eventually I ended up calling her, sobbing, telling her exactly why I wanted to stay in Lamoni, and that what I needed from her was unwavering support. I'm pretty sure that's the last time since I was like 16, that I either cried that much in front of her, sort of, or tried to communicate that level of emotion to her.) I wanted to stay in Lamoni, I said, because I wanted to stay committed to returning to school, and because I had a wide support system here. And, it turns out, I wanted to stay away from people who knew my life story exceedingly well. I didn't tell her, that I also didn't want to be around this pressure to get better, to fix myself, or to have to explain what depression was, while I was dealing with it. Ick.

She sent me a letter yesterday that contained a small comment wedged between information about new shoes on sale and advice that I shouldn't use too much acne medication for fear of developing an allergy, saying she was going to give me advice, despite fears I would reject it. What? When did I do that? Is she talking about me not moving home? Or some other moment of obstinacy? Because I have no idea what she's talking about. I feel terribly disconnected, but I like receiving letters from her, besides that I feel it gives me (even more) breathing room, because it's bringing up comments like this. Damn, I do not communicate well with my Mom. At all.

Not that that's a surprise. I refused to friend her on facebook for about three and a half years, and have never been good about remaining in contact with anyone per cell phone.

But I also recognize now, that my attitudes fit into a pattern in young adults around me. Besides holdovers from being a rebellious teenager who wants to do everything on their own, and thinks they're really different from everyone else. But back to the pattern: many of my friends are graduating college or have recently graduated, and are facing a lot of change and increasing responsibility in their lives. And they realize that they are growing up and changing as people. (I'd really like to know more about the stages of developing as humans, because there has got to be something about this in there!) So because it's really difficult to become someone a little different, when everyone around you expects you to behave a certain way, it's easier to just go where no one has expectations, and meet people who see you for who you are right now, an accomplished and impressive person, not as who you were that time you were a dick to your friend because she disagreed with you or expressed nervousness or whatever.

I did that in my favorite example of how I was different in high school. Back then, I was intensely shy (but outgoing--this is an important distinction, and I'm gonna pause this sentence to explain, briefly. Shy: fear of social hubbub because of your actions, particularly when they are known to be unusual either for you or for your social group. Outgoing: perfectly comfortable interacting with humans and speaking up. So you can be outgoing, but shy about doing stuff other than talking)...about going to social events and dancing, in particular. But, as I started to enjoy listening to music a bit near the end of high school, I got tired of not getting to do stuff like dancing with friends. But hell if I was going to dance in from of my high school friends. They would have known it was extremely out of the ordinary (from middle school to high school, the only dance-like event I went to was the 6th Grade Mixer, and my Mom had a girl in my carpool buy a ticket for me and forced me to go.) My friends would have said something! How mortifying! Besides, they were now all comfortable with dances, and I had no idea what the hell happens at dances. So I went to college where no one knew me (entirely good reasons for this besides the dancing thing) and went to every dance they had, had a great time, and definitely was often one of the first people on the floor.
tl;dr I danced in college after being afraid to in high school.

So my point is, I still don't communicate well with my Mom, and part of that is probably because I'm still changing as a person. And I don't like feeling the need to figure out that change at the same time that I'd need to try to explain it to someone else. Although, from my glogging point of view, that's probably crap. Explaining it to the people you care about, should you so choose, probably helps you figure out what you want, and do it. After all, that's why I glog. So I can better understand myself. That's why active listening is helpful.

But, it's hard to hold yourself back from interjecting reassurances or advice to loved ones who are turmoiling (yes, you just saw that verbed right here, right now). And that's probably equally important, because when we do that, we communicate that we are not happy with the other person's growth happening on their terms. This previous statement only applies to conversations where the other person is verbally working through thoughts with you. In other situations, be yourself. But when family/friends aren't used to you changing or are explaining things while you're figuring shit out, that is so not helpful. It makes sense to try to avoid that and just find somewhere to be your new self, sans explanation.