Saturday, May 27th, 2017

Screen Shot 2017-05-27 at 11.12.38 PM*said in very thick English accent* ‘Ello! ๐Ÿ˜‰

I just wanted to let you know I AM alive. I DO care about this blog. I know I am wildly wildly far behind and one of my biggest goals of June is to catch up. So, a lot more coming soon! ๐Ÿ™‚ xoxoxo

Friday, May 12th, 2017

Sometimes, I will have maybe a great therapy session, or I’ll have an amazing, inspiring talk with someone I’ll admire, or I’ll have a great trip far away from New York, or something freeing will happen, and I will feel so normal and happy (sometimes even while in New York)…

And it’ll feel so wonderful to be back to just the girl who can walk outside with no issues… (What a concept, huh? … Being able to just go outside…)

I’ll be the girl who can just talk to her friends without being distracted… who can focus on reading a book and maybe even learning a new concept… Who can dream bigger than making it through the day (back to my old normal dreams – I still wanna climb Kilimanjaro, baby!)… A girl who can actually get a bunch of stuff done – plan things, organize her room – who can just be.

And when I’m like this, I just feel so very normal that it’s like, “How do I ever have a breakdown those crazy breakdowns where I feel like I can’t get out of bed? Everything is fine!”

I don’t feel trapped. I don’t feel endlessly cry-y. I feel all the life there is left to live, and I’m excited about it…

So, how do I keep that? How do I even out the rollercoaster? (I know to some extent, the answer is just to continue with therapy and keep working toward that goal – that with time and professional help, conceivably eventually it will get to the point where I have far far far more normal days than not.)

It just feels so good and so nice to feel normal, that when I feel it – for one thing, I try to use it for all it’s worth. “Oh goodness gracious, I’m in a good spot today! Anything I’ve been putting off, I better do right now!” And for another, I hold any joy I am feeling so very tightly.

It’s weird now that joy has become associated with fear – both because if I was joyous with sexual assaulted guy, it wasn’t allowed to last long – it seems he’d most often try to knock me down. And then also because now, now that he’s gone and I don’t have to worry about his responses to anything anymore, I still have my own all over the map issues of what happens (for me at least) with dealing with PTSD. I wanna hold that joy so tightly. Anytime I feel it, it’s like “shhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhsh! Do not move. Don’t make a sound. Don’t move a muscle. Do nothing.” My emotions have become like this tiny infant… If it’s sleeping, if it’s peaceful or calm be every every every so careful.

And that’s hard in itself because when you feel joy, you wanna jump around and do things… But it’s scary to think if you do the “wrong” thing, you might have a flashback or a reaction or what have you.

But I don’t really have a choice. I have to just keep going out there and pushing forward.

I just hope, I suppose, that one day my emotions can rise up from being an exceptionally finicky infant back to being normal adult emotions I can handle, and know what to do with…

(I always said I never wanted to have a child, and now it feels like my PTSD is one.)

I don’t know what else to say, but since I’m in a good place today, excuse my while I go clean my room!

Sunday, April 16th, 2017

Chrissy Teigen and John Legend from her snapchatFirst off, I’m totally obsessed with Chrissy Teigen. She is my spirit model. I love her. And if you’re not following her on twitter & snapchat, you are missing out on some spectacular joy in your life.

I was watching said snapchat, and they were being sooooo cute for their daughter’s first birthday. (I can’t even handle it.)

And all the time, John Legend is on her snapchat seeming like the most amazing husband/dad in the world. He’s always joining in on the cooking and the housework. There was a snap a while ago where Luna went over and was crawling around underneath him while he was playing piano. And Chrissy was like, “come back here, baby,” and John looked at her all cute and said, “She’s helping me play!”

Chrissy Teigen is a hilarious, smart, quick, interesting, funny goddess. And John Legend steps up his game to meet hers. Once, she was really drunk and asked, “Are you mad at me?” And he said, “Why would I ever be mad at you? You’re perfect?”

Anyway, I was thinking about tweeting a picture of John helping to put together his daughter’s new toy and saying what a great dad he is…

And then I realized… “Aurora, are you kidding?” Yes, John Legend seems like an amazing father. And he should be commended as such.

And yes, I do sometimes think about how it’s amazing that Chrissy Teigen still cooks herself when she’s Chrissy Teigen. She could have a staff…

But do I think the same way about Chrissy as I do about John?

Was I compelled to write a tweet about Chrissy Teigen is such an amazing mom (which she does indeed seem to be)?

Or was it more wild to me that John Legend would help put together his daughter’s toy, and help make the birthday cake?

They are both wildly successful in their own right. They both could hire a staff. So, why was I more likely to be impressed by John’s behavior than Chrissy’s?

I am here for feminism! I get upset at blatantly sexist stuff. I even follow this satire account @manwhohasitall – which is amazing and an incredible daily mirror into how ridiculous some things sound that we just accept people say about women (if the genders were reversed).

And yet, do I have sexism so deeply ingrained in me that it took me an extra minute to realize I seemed to be expecting Chrissy Teigen (Luna’s mom) to be putting together and toy and helping make the cake and cook good, but I was going to congratulate John Legend (Luna’s dad) for doing the exact same work?

(I mean… Chrissy Teigen is a cookbook author, and she does love to cook. So, it is possible that I have that swirling in my brain, if I don’t imagine it as quite such a big deal that she’s cooking… But still!)

Anyway, I’m very sorry for my underlying blind spots. (And I’m trying to keep them in check!) And also, both Chrissy Teigen and John Legend are amazing, and I highly recommend following them on your social media of choice.

Saturday, April 15th, 2017

This is yet another post talking about yet another sexual assault has affected me.

My last day of work on my current project is coming up on Friday.

Usually, on my last day of jobs, I give a bunch of thank you cards, I say goodbye to all the people I’ve adored working with, and it just kind of feels like a little bow on all of it.

It will not be like that with this job.

I really like everyone who works there. Everyone has been super nice in their interactions with me. It’s been a fun show to work on and all…

But instead of the usual – where I get to know people a little better, and see if they wanna go work out together over lunch, or whatever… I have mainly just sat in my office with the door closed, quietly doing my work.

People have still had to come to my office to watch various cuts and stuff. It’s not like I’ve never met anyone, or don’t know anyone at all… But I don’t interact in the same way. And just as I quietly come in everyday (often an adjusted schedule because of therapy or Project 882), I will probably quietly leave at some weird time where yet again people don’t really know if I’m there or not.

And that’s so weird.

I also feel like a jerk because, while I cry much (much) less often at work nowadays, I still do sometimes… And sometimes people still need me. So, sometimes, someone will knock on my door when I’m crying. And I use the 2 seconds between the knock and when they come in to compose myself a little… But I usually don’t look at them when they come in.

I’m trying to hide that I’m not all that composed, and that my face is red from crying. I’m trying to hide the tear I maybe didn’t get to fully wipe off. I’m trying to hide the fact that I’d like to keep crying as soon as they’ve asked whatever they need to ask.

So, I acknowledge them with a hi or something, and I keep my face to my computer, not looking up to acknowledge their presence. And that feels super douchey.

Granted, editors do that sort of often. It’s not unheard of. They might be in the groove. They might just be living up to their cranky stereotype. It’s not unheard of, or ridiculously weird or anything. But it’s certainly not what I like to do.

And when it happened at the Nightly Show, it wasn’t that weird, because people came in directly behind you. You had to turn your whole body around to see them. At my current job, they come in from the upper corner of the room. You have to move your head like maybe 45 degrees (and that’s if you’re looking at your farthest away screen). Like, come on.

So, in conclusion, I feel like a jerk. But sometimes that is the very very best I can do on that day and in that moment. And it’s a bummer.

Wednesday, April 5th, 2017

I have a bunch of drafts in my posts, because I want to talk about things specifically. But suffice it to say, the gist of all of it is that I’m just not here.

I feel like I’ve said this idea before in various ways – like I’m living trapped in the glass box and everything.

But I just do not feel present. I’m floating around in all these cool cities, at a cool job, in a great apartment… and I’m not there.

It’s like I’m just watching some TV version of my life. I’m not in it, not living it, not feeling it. I’m just watching it all happen… Even though I feel like I’m the one trapped behind the TV set – which I suppose kinda doesn’t make sense.

But does any of it?

That’s all I have to say on this now since I’ll be expanding (hopefully before you know it) in other posts…

I’m just not here.

Friday, March 31st, 2017

This is a question I’ve been asking myself often nowadays. I’m pretty sensitive to how I’ve been feeling/acting lately. [I toootally have drafts of posts about this. I’m SO sorry I’m very far behind.]

Anyway, I know that it’s semi-unhealthy to live in a world of “old me vs. new me.” It might be better to just realize this is where I am now and then try to improve upon anything I don’t like.

But I liked who I was…. And I’m in this semi-weird spot of questioning so many things… “Is this normal, or is this a problem?”

I’ve always been at least a little messy (sometimes a lotta messy). If my apartment is becoming a little unhinged, is that because “Well, I’m just messy Aurora,” or is it a sign that I’m not keeping up with my life as well as I used to?

If I’ve been invited out to do something, and I just lazily sit at home, is that because I’m so anxious around people now that it’s a real problem I’m not going out… or am I just taking a little alone time that everybody needs (even me – even back before anything happened!)?

If I keeeeeep meaning to send a thank you card or a gift or something and I just keep not doing it… is that because I can’t handle normal responsibilities now? Or is it because some things slip through the cracks? (I literally still have cards somewhere from the 52 half marathons in 52 weeks project that just never made it to a post office.) So, is that? Or am I too depressed to get things done?

If I spend nearly a day sleeping because I neeeeeeded it… is that because I’ve been traveling so much lately and working crazy hours and racking up miles for my 882 Project, and I need to catch up on sleep? Or is it because I’m super depressed and it’s easier to just sleep?

These, and questions like these, are questions I’m asking myself way too often. I have to allow myself to be tired and to be human. But I’m I “allowing” too much? I mean, I guess as long as I’m generally functioning – as long as I’m getting to work and such, I guess that means everything’s okay-ish.

But I want to be more than someone who goes to work and then goes home. I want to more than just a robot who turns her brain off all the time… And I guess that’s why I’m asking these questions of myself. ‘Cause am I becoming this unfeeling robot barely making it through a day, or am I just being human? …Sometimes it’s hard to tell.

Thursday, March 30th, 2017

I have yet another blog post sitting in my queue waiting to be finished up and published. (I’m SO sorry. I know it’s getting ridiculous how little I’m posting.)

Anyway.

That blog posts talks about how it makes me physically ill sometimes think about spending the night in someone’s bed (or lord help me, them in mine). And I will get to that post. (And not waste your time writing it all out right here.) The point is…

I know this is crazy to yet again mention that man I adore in California. (I really wish I had some great blog nickname for him), because as I think I mentioned, I had never planned on talking about him here.

To me, the blog just isn’t the place to talk about my relationships – though apparently it sorta is sometimes now…

He’s just a good contrast sometimes and I think this post is relevant to sexual assault and worth talking about.

So, as I mentioned, I’ve been sick when I hear or see characters on TV or the radio or whatever spend the night. *shudders*

But I was watching an episode of Grey’s Anatomy and two characters were wrapped in each other’s arm after obviously spending the night together. (I would say spoiler alert, but goodness gracious, that could be anybody on the show.) The point is, my first thought is usually panic and “AGH! Why did I spend the night?! If I wouldn’t have done that, I could’ve avoided being assaulted,” and blah blah blah blah blah blah.

But this time, I breathed in a really deep breath like a nice calm person and was like, “That’s how me and [California guy; still wishing I had a better nickname] used to look in the morning.

I.
was.
reminded.
of.
a.
happy.
memory.

I know I’ve said recovery is like a roller-coaster and I think this somewhat illustrates it. Literally yesterday, I was like, “This is unfixable! I am never gonna get better!” (And my frustration might not have been as clear in the post as it was to anyone who would’ve been around me, in my office, sobbing at the idea that I don’t know how to fix this.)

But then this happened.

My first thought was of something really nice.

So, maybe it’s “fixable” after all… Maybe I can “get better” (even if I’m not 100% supposed to think about it that way).

I don’t know. I know it’s such a teeeeeny tiny victory. But I’ll take it! I loved sleeping in California guy’s arms. Andย  I’m really, really happy that the good memory started seeping back in. Now, if you don’t mind, I’m gonna think about that, and all that safety and happiness at his place, now as I drift off to sleep!