When Intolerance Trumps the Day

It barely been half a day since Donald Trump became the new President Elect of the USA. It was a tight race, and I made no effort to hide the fact that I did not like that man. I didn't like Hillary much either, but viewed her as a lesser evil of the two candidates. But with the backlash I've personally faced following the results, I can no longer say I am surprised.

In less than 24 hours, I have been called the following, all from different sources:
- A Feminazi who needs to be taught a lesson
- Someone who 'pretends' to understand what rape is like
- A baby murderer (in a conversation where abortion was not even brought up until that very point, no less)
- A disgusting LGBTQIA+ supported who is probably a closet lesbian anyway
- A war monger (because I apparently had a hand in creating the wars the US is involved in?)
- A freak
- Ignorant
- Butt hurt
- Anti-Christian
- Fear mongerer


And because of all this, I am no longer shocked or amazed that someone like Trump could possibly become the most powerful man in the world. I'm not making this blog post to argue policy, that's been done for the past year leading up to the election. None of those arguments make any difference now. But what we have seen here is a candidate who has capitalised off fear, hatred, violence and intolerance, and he has WON. And now? His followers think it's okay to be exactly the same. They have seen his example be rewarded in the greatest measure, so now it is finally okay for them as well.

Because the thing is, these people are not expressing new sentiments. It is something that has existed inside them all along, and now finally they have been justified in giving those thoughts an outlet. If our President can do it, so can I.

It's not just Trump who gained power last night. It was also the man on the bus who ogles you, thinking that because you're a woman he somehow has a right to your body. It's the person yelling at new immigrant refugee "LEARN ENGLISH!". It's the parent telling their child that being gay is just a phase. It's people telling a rape victim that because she was drinking or wearing revealing clothes that she was asking for it. It's a woman's partner who says she must be on her period anytime she gets upset about something. The driver who asks you to lock your door because you're driving through a black neighborhood.

By giving power to one bigot, it seems we have given power to them all.

Is this going to shut me up?

Hell no.

To all those who feel afraid, marginalised and threatened: Now, more than ever before, it is time to plant your feet and stand your ground. For the next four years, stand by your convictions and be ready to fight to preserve them. Do not hurt yourself. Do not hurt others. NO matter how your community has been threatened by this, continue to stay strong and never be afraid to show who you really are. Look out for your Black friends, your Brown friends, your Native friends your Muslim friends, your female friends, your gay friends, your trans friends. Stand in solidarity with one another. Show love for one another. Keep one another safe.

And if you thought I was an outspoken, angry, feminist bitch before.... you better brace yourselves for me over the next four years.

Why I Know the Gods are Laughing

Things were going so good a few weeks ago. Anxiety and depression were still there to an extent, but 'things' in life were going well. Enjoying my studies, keeping positive, staying in the flow of things. So nice. Breathing. Good.

Something amazing happened. The sort of thing you read about in books.

When I was 11 in intermediate school, I had my first real crush. He was the quintessential "cool" kid. These were the early 90s, so he had an undercut hair style that would flop down into his eyes, in that punk grunge way that just so moody and irresistible. He was a year ahead of me, so Intermediate being what it was meant that I could get in a whole year of mooning around and making my friends sick of me before he disappeared into the ether of High School.

So naturally I harassed the heck out of him. I mean, he was so completely out of my league, I couldn't possibly let him know that I had a crush on him. He was just as bad; we gave each other so much grief in class and the playground. But all good things come to an end and off he went to High School.

But you never really forget your first crush and a few years back I started stalking him looked him up on facebook. We said a few words, reminisced a little, liked each other's posts occasionally. No big deal. We each had our own lives, partners, children etc. It's nice to see somebody you once knew turn out happy.

But then one day, a few months back now, we connected. I don't need to go into detail here. Suffice to say, things were going really well. We were planning on visiting each other, thing were moving along. Turns out that back at intermediate... he had a crush on me, too. It was something nice and I was swept away my the seeming serendipity of it all. I knew a million things could go wrong, but I was also imaging what a fantastic story it would be to tell the grandchildren.

In past romantic relationships, I have been abused, cheated on, lied to, emotionally blackmailed... you name it. The scars run deep. But for a little while, this gave me hope. And we all know that's the worst thing you should ever have.

Just when things reach their peak... silence. A full weekend of no contact, just out of the blue. I thought I had said something terribly wrong. Naturally, my first instinct was to blame myself. But finally I get the message.

He's sorry for putting me through hell, he knows I must have been wondering what had happened. Turns out his ex partner is pregnant from one month before he connected with me. He's going to do the honorable thing.

Of all the truly crappy things that have happened to me over time, this one thing for some reason really feels like huge cosmic slap across the face. Don't get me wrong, the fact that he is going back to his partner to support her through this and raise a baby like a man should, is a wonderful thing. It shows that there are decent men out there, and I am proud of him for choosing to do this. I truly wish them a joy filled and happy life. I harbor no ill will to either him or mother of his child.

My pain over this is 100% selfish. 

I feel like a karmic joke. Like a celestial carrot was hanging in front of me. Look, Athena. Your stars have aligned. You too, can find happiness. Here is a gift plucked from your past. Reach out and it's all yours. All you've been through, you are finally going to be rewarded.

It didn't end because of a fight, or betrayal... any of those usual things. It ended because of something that happened before we even started talking, and it confuses the hell out of me. It makes me feel like this is the universe, or god, or karma... what ever you believe in; officially letting me know that there just isn't that kind of joy out there for me. That this is as close as it gets.

Why else would something that initially seem so fated, just be stripped away like that? He has broken off all contact with me. Blocked all possibility of interaction so that he can be fair and do the right thing. It wouldn't be right to be creating a family with one person while continuing to feel strongly for somebody else. And I'm glad for that. I'm glad that there are people out there willing to do the right thing even if it means making a personal sacrifice.

I guess... I just wish there were someone, anyone, that might one day be willing to sacrifice like that for me.

The Burden of Anxiety

The first time I had a panic attack, I didn't know why I couldn't breathe. I was gasping to fill my lungs but no matter how much air I took in, it just didn't feel like it was enough. I had just been yelled at by my now ex husband and had gone to have a shower to calm down. I collapsed to the floor trying to call out to him for help but not being able to catch my breath enough to force the words out. I thought I was dying. And I thought I deserved it, too.

From here, anxiety and it's BFF depression has been a near on constant companion. The upside is that I understand it far better almost 15 years on. The downside it that it still occasionally cripples me in the most excruciating of ways.

The worst for me is Social Anxiety, and that filters into personal relationships. This aspect started manifesting at a young age. I was harassed at school, sometimes violently, For a very long time, whenever I heard group laughter I would tense up, bracing for an onslaught.

As you get older, bullying suddenly isn't okay anymore. If you pull someone out of a building by their plaits you don't get detention, you get charged with assault. But even though the times change, the scars never really fade, and different forms of emotional abuse take its place.

It means I'm a hard person to get along with. Being told over and over again that I am not good enough has left me feeling completely replaceable in people's lives. Emotional abuse isolates you, and makes you feel ashamed and worthless.

I'm always bracing myself for the worst and that isn't something I can just "get over". It's only a matter of time before someone gets sick of me or something better comes along to replace me. I'm like a cell phone. You can upgrade me when the next version comes out.

These Walls of Mine

Sometimes I'm afraid that I can't open up emotionally at all. Even when I was going through counselling during one of the darkest periods of my life, my therapist would often wonder aloud how it was that I could talk through such emotionally distressing things while remaining stoical and even with humor at times.

Let's be clear here though - I'm not a sociopath. I feel every cut and bruise incredibly deeply. But it all gets lost in translation when it comes to being honest and vulnerable with another person. I can be one but not both. I can talk about something from the deepest core of myself, but I will always make light of it and do anything I can to not show how hard it has hit. Or I will be raw and vulnerable, but it will be about something far more superficial than what's really going on under the surface.

I can't let anybody in.

I've been conditioned through out my life that as soon as I let somebody in, it will hurt. Best case scenario I am ignored and cast out. Further along the scale my words are twisted and used against me. Worst case, I am out right abused.

I've learnt along the way that emotion is dangerous. It's impossible, at least for me, to be able to predict when feelings of love, stability and comfort will be shattered by someone and replaced with fear, abandonment and worthlessness. The solution my psyche came up with is to distance myself from my emotions completely - at least on the outside.

I've often had people mention that I am cold, stoic, dispassionate, aloof... but this couldn't be further from the truth. People can't see how much I would love to let them in. But I can't do it. It's a conflict at the very deepest level.

I've built walls around myself and I brace them against any and all attacks, real and perceived. I protect myself. I can't tear these walls down on my own.

The Exhaustion of Anxiety

People with clinical depression and/or anxiety get tired. Really tired. This is something that I have fought off and on through out my life, especially in the days before I started to understand why this was happening.

If you know someone who is going through this, think about what you say before you say it.

Saying "But you got so much sleep last night!" to your partner/child/friend is not an answer.

Saying "You'll feel better if you just get up and get active," is not an answer.

It's like telling an asthmatic they should be able to catch their breath, because you're breathing just fine.

If you don't know the all encompassing exhaustion that accompanies anxiety or depression, don't try to fix it. Just be there for that person, unconditionally. Don't try to understand the problem, just care for them when they need you. And if you're the one going through this, don't think you need to "snap out of it" to please the people around you, because inevitably it will just make things worse. Get the help you need and get some rest.

You're not tired for no reason. You are tired because you have depression/anxiety.

You are fighting the thoughts of worthlessness caused by an emotional disorder and that is exhausting.

You're suffering from adrenaline crashes after fighting off bouts of anxiety and panic; and that is exhausting.

You are on edge, expecting the worst and constantly bracing yourself; and that is so damn exhausting.

Give yourself a break. Don't expect a miracle cure and don't let people make you think you are somehow less just because they can't understand you.

I've been in that dark place before and I've been so exhausted that I didn't think I would be able to go on.

But relief comes eventually. One night of sleep won't make things better, but ongoing self care, nourishment and tenderness will start to make a difference. Healing an growth are always possible, one step at a time.

If it's on Facebook it Can't be That Serious, Right?

Scrolling through your facebook feed is a fairly relaxing time. It's nice to sit back after a long day with a hot chocolate and see the things that your friends have found amusing, to read interesting articles and to share the things that really appeal. As a self confessed Social Justice Warrior I also tend to get into the odd heated debate, and as long as it doesn't get personal, I thoroughly enjoy that too.

It's very rare that a post in just a few words sums up me completely. Sure, there can be stirring poetry or memorable quotes that make you feel good in the meantime. But this one time, something clicked with me.

I share the above and get the handful of likes and laughs you might expect from something like this. But my whole life is emobodied in this quote, and for someone with social anxiety it is even more profound. Because not only do I get anxious about bad things or humiliating circumstances or people hating me (the list really does go on and on), but I also get anxious about anything good as well. And that makes life really hard.

From the day I found out I was pregnant with Benji, I have been terrified of losing him. Convinced I would miscarry or have a still birth. I still have sweat-inducing nightmares on a regular basis that he died at birth and I have been hallucinating his whole life. I wake up from these nightmares, check he's alive, gather him close and sob.

It affects other parts of my life as well. I self sabotage almost everything that starts to feel good and the majority of the time I do without realising until far later. I've enclosed myself in a very small circle and find it extremely hard to make friends. Why put in that effort of getting to know someone, when they will either not be interested in the first place, or worse, we will get close and my open heart who loves everything and everyone will shatter when they realise they don't actually like me at all, and drop me from their lives completely.

It's happened all my life. From "friends" at primary school who started pulling on my hair and kicking at me because I was on a television advertisement, to my best friend at intermediate punching me in the face because I started having my period before she did. From a very early age I learnt that good things tended to end in something terrible happening.

Right through to being an adult and losing my marriage, having multiple partners cheat on me, still having friends turn away... has resulted in a social anxiety which means I have no troubles being in a sea of strangers but I fall apart trying to stammer my way through a conversation with a friend. So instead I stay clear of people and avoid close friendships. I end relationships before they can begin, citing commitment issues or other nonsense, before I start feeling anything good. Because it's going to end anyway, so why risk the heartbreak?

It would be wonderful to get over this kind of anxiety, so I can live and love freely; but life has taught me that as soon as I try it will just crumble again.

So for now my walls stay high. I hold my boy close, I stay in my small circle, and I brace myself for the worst to come; because for me it always lurks around some dark corner, waiting to take it all down.

Living Life in the Anxious Lane

So, little known fact about me, pretty much every day I suffer from mild to moderate social anxiety. On good days I stumble through conversations thinking I sound like an idiot with each phrase. I feel convinced that people put up with me, they don't actually really like me. Occasionally I have a bad day. I dress in my most comfortable jumper, get Benji off to day care while avoiding all forms of communication, refuse to answer the phone and and spend the day doing all I can to fight off full fledged panic attacks. Granted, these bad days don't happen often any more. Maybe once every six months or so. Most days I struggle, but I cope.

Sometimes it comes out of the blue. I can be just sitting there and I feel anxiety well up in my chest. Why? I ask that myself. I'm not doing anything wrong, I'm not in a stressful situation... but my chest tightens, my pulse rate spikes and and everything becomes concentrated on this feeling of panic that I have to push down so I can keep functioning. So I can keep being a good, loving, Mother. Because if there's one thing in this world that's greater than the overwhelming feelings of a panic attack, it's the love I have for my son.

But as I said, those bad days don't happen too often anymore. Sometimes I even feel myself getting excited by life. I have goals and I enjoy working towards them. I have hobbies that I love to do.

But last night I received news that a dearly loved friend who was basically a family member, my "Aunty" Lyn had passed away. She was there through my teenage years. She brought my Mother and I into the Mormon Church. Though she later moved to a different city, we always kept in contact. She loved hearing the things I had going in my life. She came to my wedding, and her husband who I had always viewed as father figure, walked me down the aisle. He sadly passed away two weeks before Benji was born, but Benji's middle name was chosen in dedication to him. Lyn was able to meet Benji, just before his third birthday when Mum and I took a trip up North and we stayed a few days with her. He adored her, as most people always did.

Aunty Lyn was a wise but cheeky soul. She had a special laugh, almost a cackle that came out when she knew she'd said something particularly delicious. She had unconventional views, a stand out being that seagulls would gather and fly when the souls of the dead were gathered together. But strangely, hours before I found out about her passing I took Benji to the beach with some takeaway chips. He loves rolling down his window to the seagulls that land next to the car and laughing his head off when they fight over the chips he throws. But this time they wouldn't land. They flew in circles around the car, landing briefly on the roof at times, refusing any chips thrown their way. They just kept flying and now I can't help but wonder if Aunty Lyn was passing through to say good bye.

But it feels unreal. Perhaps I'm still in shock. I don't feel like I can grieve. I had some tears when I first found out, but haven't cried since, even though I've wanted to.

What I have felt is panic.

My old friend anxiety coming back to roost. It's almost 3am now, and my body still feels wide awake with adrenaline even though my eyes are drooping and my limbs are weak and trembling. I can't read books or watch tv because anything stressful spikes my heart rate. Even my old favorite, being a keyboard warrior on Facebook is a no go. I just can't.

I keep feeling myself getting wound tighter and tighter, and I have to stop myself, center and breathe through it. I have to stay normal on the outside so nobody worries. So my baby boy doesn't know there's something wrong with me. I'm not trying to hide it, he's just too young to understand. My cat keeps jumping up on my lap and even that makes me tense up.

It feels like a constant battle. Stress causes panic, but I stress out about panicking, so once I panic I get more stressed and the cycle continues. Thinking of asking for help causes more panic again. I fear the judgments. I'm afraid someone will think I'm unfit to adult anymore and try to take over. I feel like the way I feel isn't valid, that I'm over reacting and making a sad situation all about myself when it should be about the immediate family and closest friends.

And I spend so long trying to be strong that I don't want people to know that I'm really weak and shaking inside.