Fantastic Feeling

Internetland, I am feeling oddly. By that, I mean I have an odd feeling, not that my sense of touch is off. An odd tingling in my earlobes, and in the tip of my nose, and in my littlest fingers and in all of my toes.

I am uncertain, friends, for I rarely feel this way. But. I think. It just might be.

Glee. Stemming from a sense of belonging. And.. oh, maybe it's just happiness. I am unsure.

I'm incredibly terrified about what this last term at university will bring, but I'm looking forward to it. I feel like I now have a support system in place: an attentive partner, a few professor mentors to look up to and who are helping me as much as they can, a family that is giving and taking while letting me grow, and some really amazing friends - through my knitting group, and Twitter, and at the radio station.

I will not be cliche and say that things are falling into place. Because they are not. It is not gravity or nature or fate or luck. It is hard fucking work. I am working to help myself get healthier, and to keep people in my life who make me feel worthy of this odd gleeful feeling.

Helping myself and choosing to be social are both very difficult, sometimes even painful, challenges that I must work at. There have been times.. years, even.. when I was either unable to do that or I was just too afraid that I'd be unable to do that, so I didn't try. And sure, I've chosen to stay in various kinds of relationships that didn't help me. I told myself that I was being selfless in those situations, that I was making other people happy while my own happiness was not a factor. I didn't believe I was martyr - quite the opposite - for although I wasn't really present in these relationships, I wasn't sacrificing my own happiness since I didn't believe that I could be happy, or that I deserved to be happy. I've learned that I can do more, and that I am worth more, than existing solely to fill other people's needs. Also, that people are remarkable: they can adapt and grow too. They don't need me to be sick. Well.. most of them don't need me to be sick. And the ones that do.. I'm still learning to face that.

I still have a lot of work to do.

I will always have work to do on this. On me. But.. I'm beginning to think that I just might be worth it.

And for those thousands of times each day when I doubt that and I doubt myself, I have you, e-friends, to remind me that people are remarkable. Sometimes they offer you a letterpress case because people are surprising and generous and worth getting to know. But.. that's another blog post.

A crazy little thing called love.

These neuroses of mine, readers, are troublesome these days. Alright, most days.. for the past decade. Sigh.

After a particularly rough day in which I had nothing scary to face other than, you know, the regular waking, eating, breathing thing, I find myself ready to go to sleep. That is odd, since I don't sleep well at night. I get caught in a loop and rehash all of the day's problems, which I believe are the results of my very existence. Quickly, the loop of worry and guilt gets more fodder added to it, as I remember yesterday, and last week, and last month, et cetera, et cetera. Consequently, I don't sleep, as I am too busy worrying and remembering and narrating a biased tragic tale to ..what? Oh, yes. Relax. I don't really relax. I nap during the day out of sheer exhaustion, and I knit to keep my hands busy and to rewire my automatic thoughts from everything is your fault, you terrible human to knit two, purl two.

But, tonight, as I said, I am ready to sleep. I was invited to submit to a zine which chronicles experiences with mental health issues and fights ableism, and, ultimately, is an exercise in self-love. It was encouraging to see how many people joined the group, either to submit or to purchase an issue when it comes out. I didn't feel quite so alone in acknowledging these madnesses of mine, and that is one of the most important parts in fighting these diseases.

Also, and probably even more cathartic, was an exchange between a few me and a few Twitterers. It was initiated by a formspring post by Thursday, in which she discussed the internal running commentary that accompanies some of her interactions. A half dozen of us connected with that experience, and sharing those fears and acknowledging that we have unique requirements for health was reassuring. Again, it was wonderful to see a small community arise out of an experience that can be so bloody isolating. It was definitely, as Caren said, tweet therapy.

And here's some puppyfuzz, readers, to remind you that puppy love is not pejorative. It's downright glorious.