Underneath my yellow skin

Tag Archives: mental health

More (you know) about mental health

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I’m still trying to get my shit togetehr and my sleep back on track. I managed to go to bed by 2:30 a.m. last night–well, a quarter to three, which is miles better than what I’ve been doing in the past few weeks. I god a decent amount of sleep, but I’m still so tired. Oh, we got two to three inches of snow last night, but only an inch or so stuck around. Winter is not leaving without a fight this year. So, once again, I’m including a video of Prince singing Sometimes It Snows In April because homeboy (he was from here) knows about winter in April. It’s such a beautiful and melancholic song.

I don’t know if I–well, let me put it this way. I’m so tired. Physically and emotionally. I feel defeated and like there’s no reason to live. What’s the point? This country is fucked. Even if there is a country after this president is gone, it’s going to be unrecognizable. The first time he was president, iI had a bad feeling, but nothing like this time. Why? Because he has a chip on his shoulder and nothing to lose. He can do whatever he wants with very little consquences. Yes, the Supreme Court is doing some checking of him, but it feels very much like they’re slowing the bleeding–not stopping it.

This election showed a really ugly side of this country, and it has just broken me. I have never been a patriot, especially not since 9/11 and the aftermath. But I have never despised my fellow countrypeople as I do righrt now nor have I wished so much ill on them. I want them to feel the pain of all the shit this president is doing, even if they will never admit/know/acknowledge it’s his fault. He doesn’t care about them in the least, which is such a maddening thing. He’s like a cult leader in that they would do anything for him. He accepts this as his due and does not care if they get hurt in return.

My empathy has run out. I want his supporters to hurt the way he’s been hurting minorities in this country. I hate that I feel this way, but I can’t deny I do. I know they will be affected by many of his batshit decisions, but it’s not enough. I want them to know he is the reason for their pain.

It heartens me that there has been pushback by both Dems and Reps, but it feels like too little too late. Because here’s the thing. In order to have a reasonable discussion, both sides have to agree as to the parameters of said discussion. That’s not possible with this president because he’s in a world of his own. If the Republicans are willing to try to put a stop to some of his ideas, well, then that’s a step in the right direction.

It doesn’t help that the family dysfunction is what it is. I talked to my mother tonight, and I realized that I’m back to feeling depressed every time I talk to her. This was actually a not-bad converastion (in comparison to several other talks we’ve had recently), but I still brace myself every time I talk to her because there’s a chance that something will come up that I have to brace myself for.


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Looking for ways to make my life better

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I was talking in yesterday’s post about my writing. I would dearly love to be able to write fiction again, but it’s a struggle. The words still come fairly easily, but they are not catching fire like they used to. I have mentioned before how if my writing is going well, then there’s a sparkle to the words. A lightness that I can tangibly feel–and see. when it’s not going well, the words are flat and lifeless. Sometimes, I can find ways to spice it up, but oftentimes, I just have to trash it and start over.

I don’t know what to do with my writing, honestly. I know what I want to write. I know what I feel compelled to write. These are not the same thing, though I might be able to meld the two together.

I have to say that it’s time to sort my family shit out. It’s a bit crude to point out that my parents are in the last stage of their life/lives, but it’s true. And it’s wrought/fraught because of my father’s dementia. But, that’s not the only reason. There’s also the fact that my parents are broken people. They have been my whole life, and they’ve only gotten worse as the years have gone by.

I clearly remember having an argument with my mother about social justice issues. This was since my medical crisis. We’ve had plenty of arguments about all the ‘isms’ beforehand, but this was after, I think. My mother said she was a traditional/old-fashioned person and tried to justify it by saying she had been born in 1942.

This argument drives me batshit insane. It’s always given as an excuse for attitudes/beliefs that are frankly horrible. In addition, though, it’s the laziest, most contemptible excuse one can give. Yes, she was born over eighty years ago. But you know what? She was not cryogenically sealed for the ensuing eighty years, only to be defrosted in the last three years. She lived in America during the Civil Rights years. She saw the ERA movement in America, and got to witness marriage equality in both Taiwan and America. Well, she wasn’t here (America)when it happened, but she got to see it happen. She got to experience Taiwan elect its first female president (something America hasn’t managhed to do), and many more progressive things in her eighty years on this earth.


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Life, liberty, and the pursuit of contentment

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In the last post, I was talking about some of the difficulties in my life creeping back in like depression and anxiety. I am fully aware that much of my negative feelings aren’t real, but that doesn’t make them any less painful. This was something I talked about with my last therapist. Some people think that if you know you have issues, that’s half the battle. I get it. You can’t do anything about your probelms if you don’t know/don’t think you have them. However.

On the other hand, it’s furstrating as fuck to know whtat my issues are, but not be able to do enough about them. I’m well aware that my brain is broken, for example. That doesn’t mean I know how to fix it.

I know I’m depressed. I know that my brain is fucking with me. I know that it’s lying to me. It matters not a whit. I still feel like shit and that nobody cares about me. Even though I know objectively it’s not true.

My brother was here today for a chat and dinner. It was nice to see him, and it reminded me that it’s not good to be completely isolated. I mentioned in the last post that I wanted to find a group of queer/genderqueer Asian people to chill with. It’ll probably have to be online, but it would be cool to find an in-world group. Except I can’t drive any longer–at least not to any great distance. I can drive to the grocery store, but that’s about. I have no peripheral vision any longer, which makes driving on the freeway fraught.

I also need to get my shit together in general. As I say that, though, I shake my head because what does that really mean, and is it even feasible? I have a general idea about the former, but not about the latter. I get overwhelmed when I think of everything I’d like to do to make my life better. And is it even worth it?

That’s how I know that I’m depressed. I no longer think being alive is a gift. I am back to thinking it’s a burden and that I’d rather just not be. It’s hard to explain that I do’nt want to die, exactly. I’m not suicidal, and I have no intention of taking my life.

I just…don’t have ambition to improve myself or my life. I feel a numbness in my soul that I recognize as deepening depression. I cringe at everything I saye or write because it all sounds/looks inane, boring, or bland to me. And that’s at its best.

I’m also not being able to sleep well at all. I haven’t been getting enough sleep, but admittedly, that’s partly because I’ve actually had to get up at certain times the last few days, but did not manage to go to bed any earlier. In other words, my sleep is fucked.

This was how my selep used to be before my medical crisis. I barely got 6 1/2 hours of sleep. Then, high on drugs in the hospital, I slept a solid eight hours or more a day/night. That continued after I went home for the following year.


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What else I need to do with my life

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With difficulty, I’m going to wrench myself away from talking about weapons, at least for one post. The reason is because I need to talk about something else important in my life–my mental health. It’s in the shitter, and I’m really struggling. There are many reasons for it, but I want to focus on a few. And what I want to do to combat the depression/anxiety.

My sleep has been so bad since–well  for over a year, but even more intensely since the time change. Today, I was going to get up at 11 a.m. so I could do my Taiji/Bagua routine before watching RKG (or RG in this case) stream the latest It Takes Two joint, Split Fiction, at noon. Instead, I set my alarm for noon, and was unpleasantly surprised when I looked at the clock.

I blame the time change, but it’s also that my brain is really unhappy right now. There are reasons for it, including not going out much. I mean, I never went out that much, but it’s been cut down even more since my medical crisis because I don’t feel comfortable driving. Just in general, but even more so at night and on the freeway. Obviously, this makes it hard to get out and do things, and I don’t feel comfortabel having people at my house.

That’s another thing. I need to fix things around the house. But every time I think of it, I feel discouraged and ashamed. I am so bad at cleaning. Even with someone who cleans every other week, the house is a mess. I need to make a list of things that need to be fixed, and then I have to tackle them one by one. I just don’t know if I can do it without feeling a ton of shame. In addition, I have to do several steps before I can get to the point of actually doing what I need to do.

Then, there’s the fact that  Ifeel isolated emotionally. I don’t feel like I am being a good friend, and I don’t feel that I’m maintaining my relationships well. In addition, I want to expand my community, whether online or off. I want to find other queer PoC, which isn’t easy to find. Throw in genderfluid, and it’s like looking for a unicorn. Also, when I say PoC, I mean Asian. That, of course, makes it even more difficult.

That’s the story of my life, though. I always have to be different, even when I really, really don’t want to be. And I don’t know how to find people who are similar to me in more ways than one. That might be a folly–looking for camaraderie where there is possibly none.


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I graduated; now what?

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I finished the Swimming Dragon Form today. My teacher calls it graduating when a student finishes a form, which I find charming. It just means you’ve been taught all the postures in the form. It doesn’t mean you are a pro at them or that you will remember them perfectly if at all. My teacher does not expect that, nor does she give you any shit if you forget. If anything, she goes the other way and explicitly states that her students are welcome to make all the mistakes without censure.

I’m pretty proud of myself for buckling down and finishing the Swimming Dragon Form. I have a hard time finishing things if I don’t do it right away. I tend to wander to other things, and I don’t have the will to go back to the first thing.

It’s been a few months since we worked on it in private lessons. That’s because I got distracted by other things I wanted to do such as learning the refinements to the Sword Form. And learning some of the refinements to the Solo (Long) Form. My teacher is amenable to going wherever I want, so it was up to me to drag us back to the Swimming Dragon Form.

There were maybe a half-dozen postures left, but they were all on the harder side. Or at least that’s how they appeared when I watched the video I took of my teacher doing the form. And they aren’t easy, per se, but they’re not as difficult as I thought they would be, either. I just needed to break it down and be more granular about it. I had to look at the right hand, then the left hand, then the feet. And the waist. Which is how my teacher breaks it down, though she lumps together the hands.

I was quickly exultant as I finished the form. The second-to-last posture is the most dififcult, and I had to watch it several times before I got it. Do I have it? I’m not sure I do, but I can at least fake it. I have the shape of it even if I don’t have the exact movements.

I told my teacher that I graduated from the form and looked forward to cleaning it up with her. We have a running joke about that beacuse one time she was gone and had a substitute. I think it might have just been me in the class. The substitute, let’s call her Jan, showed me five postures in the Sword Form, not well, and said that my teacher could clean it up for me. I was not pleased because I couldn’t take in that much information and she didn’t do it correctly or well, anyway.


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More about gender, martial arts, and life in general

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My brother stopped by today to drop off my Premium Elite 2 Xbox Controller or whatever it’s called. I’m being flippant, but it’s by far the best controller I’ve ever had. I was wavering because it’s not cheap, but Ian swayed me because he has it and loves it. Once I got my hands on it, I realized that it was truly several cuts above the rest. Now that I have it back, I’m so happy. I tried it out, and it just felt so right in my hands. My one gripe is the reason my brother had it for a month–the left bumper stopped working all the time. It worked maybe a third of the time, which was even more infuriating than if it didn’t happen at all.

I looked it up, and it was a known problem for this expensive controller. Apparently, they cheaped out on the bumper buttons, which means that people have issues with them. This is, frankly, unacceptable for the amount of money we’re paying for them. Well, I say it’s unacceptable, but clearly it’s not. Would I buy it again? Sadly, yes. Because it’s just that much better than any other controller (expect for that one issue). I will say that it’s somewhat on me because I’ve dropped it several times. Still. I’ve dropped all my controllers several times, and this is the first time I’ve broken a bumper.

The other thing my brother wanted to do was to natter on about his newest obsession–espresso-making. He was not a drinker of coffee for all of his life. Then, his GF inherited an espresso machine, and now my brother is hooked. True to his nature, he bought an expensive machine and an app that monitors it from his phone. Plus other accessories that added up to a prettty penny.

I joked that of course he went hard on it once he got interested because that was how he do. I was also laughing beacuse that’s how I do as well. For me, it’s the weapons. I am so obsessed by them. Right now, I am learning the Cane Form with my saber after watching my teacher’s teacher do it. I have learned three of the four rows, and as I’ve said before, doing the Cane Form with the saber made both forms really click for me.

Here’s yesterday’s post about gender, martial arts, and more.

Listening to my teacher’s teacher talk about the cane and the saber made something go off in my brain. Before, I was struggling with both. Not the forms per se, but with how I felt about them. This is where the arts part comes in for me. The weapons need precision, yes, and it’s definitely martial, but the arts part is all about the feel for me. I’ve talked about how I relate to each weapon–and about how I’m vibing with them.

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More about health, mental and physical

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I’m writing more about health, and I’m going to try to stay on topic today. That’s probably not going to happen, but I like to have goals. Hope springs eternal and all that. Here is my post from yesterday.

I will say before I get started that I’m still working on the Cane Form with my new shiny saber. I polished up the second row (out of four) because there’s a move that I was having issues with while using the cane. It’s a simple block the leg move, but you can add a twirl to it. I like to add the twirl, but I felt as if I was doing it wrong. Watching my teacher’s teacher do it with the saber clarified what I was doing wrrong, and now I can do it with relative ease.

I gave myself a week to learn the third and fourth rows because they are a bit mor ecomplicated than the first two (especially the fourth row), but I don’t think that will be necessary. I got the third row with ease in two or three goes, and I’m optimistic about the fourth.

My god. My biceps are getting really hard. I have always been proud of my guns, and that pride has only grown now. My new saber is hefty, and it feels so good in my hand. I still don’t love the Saber Form, but I’m more positive about it than I have been in the past.

Back to health in general. I am trynig to cut down on how much I DoorDash, but it’s hard when it’s right there. In fair disclosure, I ordered tonight, but I did not feel good about it. I hate cooking. I hate it so much. There is nothing enjoyable about it to me, and if I never have to do it again, that will be way too soon.

I can do simple things like cooking pasta and throwing sauce, cheese, and veggies on it. I can bake a pizza, too, but that doesn’t mean I can make one. I have thought about going back to baking, but I’m not sure I want to do that if I’m trying to be healthier.

I think I have to go back to the basics. I can get a rotisserie chicken a week and then make salads and sandwiches to eat. Along with the pasta. These are very simple dishes, and I can throw any manner of veggies on top of them. I don’t mind eating the same food several days in a row, either. It’s just that when it’s six or seven, my lizard brain says, “Hey. I can just order from DoorDash, and it’ll be here in twenty minutes.”


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Health, mental and physical, and martial arts

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I’m talking about trying to be more healthy in general. I mentioned at the end of the last post that there are three things I really like a great deal. They are: writing, FromSoft games, and martial arts weapons. I already said thatt FromSoft games would be the first to go because there are tons of other games in the world. Yes, they’are not as good as FromSoft games for the most part, but there are still some really fucking good games out there. And, as I mentioned in many past posts, I’m reaching the end of actually being able to play From games so that’s easily the first one I  would drop.

*SPOILERS*

Also, they are starting to buy more and more of their hype, especially in the DLCs. Shadow of the Erdtree was incredible for design and layout. The environments were amazing. Stunning, even! The bosses, on the other hand…..eh. I mean, there are a few that are distinctive in design  such as the Putrescent Knight and Midra. They are really a sight to behold, though fight-wise, not that impressive. I think it’s because I was a caster and did not have to get up in their respective grills. Also, I fought them later than I probably should have if I wanted to play the game in a natural way. Same with Bayle. There is so muuch talk about him, and people had such trouble with him. He’s the biggest baddest dragon in all the lands. He wears one of Placidusax’s (badass optional dragon fight in the main game) heads around his neck (I think? He’s definitely wearing it somewhere) as a warning to the other dragons.

Also, there’s an NPC associated with this boss fight whom everybody loves. You first hear him (the NPC) howling on the road abotu pain and agony and how much he hates Bayle. In fact, he can’t stop going on and on about Bayle. CURSE YOU BAYLE!! There’s a funny story about how the voice actor was told to push it as hard as possible without being told why. You can tell in his voice read. And if you do his questline correctly, you can summon him for the fight. He’s the biggest hypeman you’ll ever have to help you out.

Did I love him the way everyone else does? No. Is he pretty dang cool? Yes. He’s this game’s version of Solaire, and I’ve made myself pretty clear how I feel about Solaire. Everybody loves Solaire. He is most people’s number one favorite NPC in the first game. He is not in my top five, which is not something I tell people very often. It’s Laurentius, Quelana, Onion Knight, Big Hat Logan, and…..Patches! Of course it’s Patches. Yes, I put Patches before Soliare. It’s not that I like Patches, per se, but that he’s the one constant in all the games.

Anyway. Yeah, FromSoft games are the first to go out of them, writing, and martial arts weapons. This is where we get real with it. Which would I give up next? I’ve thought about it, but I can’t give an honest answer. Writing has been a struggle for me since my medical crisis. Not my blogging, but my fiction writing. It is just not coming to me the way it used to, and it’s frustrating as fuck. I’m trying. Lord knows I’m trying.

I’m not happy because it used to flow freely before my medical crisis. I had stories in my head for days, and I could write 2,000 words a day with ease. when I buckkled down, I could do that in two hours. Usually, it was more like four, but that was fine with me. I did it at night like clockwork. I can still do the writing now, but it’s just hot shit. Honestly. Not even just first draft horseshit. It’s utter horseshit.

I can still write. I have written. I will write. Buut it’s just not good, and it hurts my heart. I have been writing since I was seven. I don’t know who I would be without it.


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Let’s talk more about health in general

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Let’s talk more about health in general. Here is yesterday’s post filled with ranting and ravings about life in general. Despite my best intentions, I went off the rails as usual. Let me try to focus on the point I want to make. Which is that family dysfunction sucks. No, wait! That’s not the point I was trying to make. My point was that it’s hard to tackle health/diet without slipping back into thinking about the eating disordered thinking that my mother has exhibited all her life.

I’m trying to be healthier withouth becoming disordered. I have not been able to do this all my life, so what makes me thinkk that I can do it now?

I think it because I have fifteen years of Taiji under my belt. I think it because I still am thankful to my body for carrying me through my medical crisis–something I should not have survived. Here’s something that many people don’t know; it’s better to be ten pounds overweight than underweight if you suffer a medical crisis. I knew this before my own medical crisis, and it’s something I tell people whenever I can. I feel like a broken record, and most people don’t want to listen. It is so engrained in us that being fat is the worst thing in the world, many people can’t fathom that maybe it’s not true.

I remember several decades ago, I was listening to NPR (or MPR. I’m pretty sure it was NPR, though), and they had a doctor on. She was saying that as you got older, you should GAIN weight, not lose it. Partly for the reason I already said (it cushions your body if anything happens to it), but also for other reasons. Which I don’t quite remember. This reason, though, is the one that stuck in my head. That it’s better to gain weight as you get older to cushion your organs in case something really bad happens to them.

Anyway. I don’t like being fat. I am being truthful in saying that while I can still appreciate what my body has done for me, I don’t like how it looks. There are several reasons for that which I’m not going to get into at this moment. I’ve done it so many times in the past and that, while relevant, is not the point of this post.

I’m trying, yet again, to be healthier without falling into the trap of only carrying about being fat. I’m doing things like walking on the hour when I remember (as I mentioned yesterday). I’m trying to be more consistent with my fruits and veggies, and I think this is a good start.


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More talking about my health in general

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In yesterday’s post, I was talking planning on talking about health in general, but I quickly derailed myself to talking about family dysfunction instead. It’s related to health, though, so  I don’t feel completely bad about it. Let’s face it–family dysfunction is baked into so many things, I could unpack it forever. I’m also still ignoring *waves at the world around me* everything because I have to figure out how to deal with it in a not rage-inducing way.

In yesterday’s post, my intent was to talk about eating more healthily and doing things to better my health in general. That’s not the way it went, but that was my intent. Instead, I went on a rant about how my mother made me feel like shit about my body from thet time of seven and sent me down a very dark and painful path because of her obsession with how the ideal girl/woman should look like.

It got so bad that after my last visit to Taiwan (gotta update my passport ASAP, just a side thought), I had to put my foot down and tell my mother that she could not mention my health ever  again. I had forbade her from talking about my weight at some point, which meant she just changed from talking about my weight to talking about my health–but she meant my weight.

How do I know? Well, first of all, I know her very well. Secondly, when I was in college and anorexic, my junior counselors called her in to talk to her about it. They did it out of good intentions, but it was not a good thing for them to do. Why? Because it embarrassed the hell out of her, and she gets nasty when she’s shown up. Not in the any typical way, but in underhanded, manipulative, guiltt-induucing ways.

I remember my mother sitting there with her face sour. I could tell she was upset–at me. Not for being anorexic and bulimic, but for making it look like she was a bad mother.

Did she have anything to say about me being anorexic and bulimic? No. Did she have any concern to show about my health? No. In fact, the only time she ever said anything about me when I was skinny was during my second dance with anorexia. She looked at me for several long seconds and then said, “Your waist is tinier than mine.” She said it with such hate and jealousy, I internally recoiled.

This is how I know that her concern abouut my health is bullshit. If she were really concerned about my health, she would be worried that my thighs didn’t touch, and I could not make it up a flight of stairs without gasping for breath. Do you want to know how distorted her thinking was on the subject? Before I went to college, I used to blast my boombox (yes, I’m that old) and dance on the living room floor for hours as my exercise. My mother once said, “Should you be doing that? I’m worried that the floor will collapse.”


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