passion

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Today's topic is about things I am passionate about. Five things, to be specific. Be warned, this is going to be a crazy hippie mommy rant.

1. Routine infant circumcision. Seriously the dumbest thing in the world. The AAP (American Academy of Pediatrics) and most health organizations recommend against routine infant circumcision. . Because it's not needed and has no benefits. Some people say it prevents HIV, cervival/penile cancer, and makes a circumcised penis easier to clean, thus keeping it from getting infected (you clean it like you would a finger, with soap and water. . And never, ever, ever, retract the foreskin unless it has done so by itself, naturally!). All that is basically a big, steaming pile of bull shit. Circumcision was brought into popular medicinal use (not religious, like Jews) by Dr. John Harvey Kellogg of Kellogg cereal. Why? Because he was crazy Christian and said it would keep little boys from masturbating, which was a deadly sin. They also thought circumcision would cure epilepsy. . Man, were they wrong.

Edit 9/11/12: The AAP has since retracted pussied out on their stance on circumcision now stating that it may be beneficial. The Whole Network responded.

This is how a circumcision is performed. Sexual feeling is greatly decreased (I think 40% less, but I'm not sure of the number and can't find it at the moment) and what happens when something goes wrong as it too often does? Death, amputation, disfigurement, trauma. All a ridiculous risk for a cosmetic surgery on an consenting minor. If the kid grows up and decides he wants his penis cut, he can do it then.

The Whole Network has more information, if you'd like to check it out.

2. Equal rights. Can we please just get over stupidity and let people that want to get married get married? This shouldn't even be an issue. . Neither should circumcision, though.

3. Drug companies/Immunizations. We have put off immunizing Willow until she is at least 2 years old, but I would prefer never. The ingredients in vaccines are terrifying and just the fact that they have tried to contact me through text, snail mail, email and phone (all sponsored by Pfizer!!!) makes me extremely wary of them and their agenda.

4. General nerdery. Wonder Woman, Batman, Star Trek, Lord of the Rings, Xena, mythology, psychology, sociology. . . It's ridiculous how nerdy I am. If I wanted to, I would never have to leave the house because the internet would make me a total hikikomori. I have everything I need. Except snacks. .  .

5. Ending cannabis prohibition. I've never really talked about this on here, but I am quite passionate about it. I believe that the goddess put everything on earth for a reason, and that if we think some plant, bug, or animal is useless, science just hasn't found out what it's useful for. I definitely, definitely think weed should be legalized, thus fixing the economy (tax the shit out of it and pizza ((you know, for munchies)), and you'll save the economy!) and allowing it to be used medicinally, which might save a lot of people.

Some people claim that cannabis can help (or even cure!) sufferers of cancer, diabetes, insomnia, ulcers, arthritis and more.

Disclaimer: I thoroughly believe that too much of anything is a bad thing. Though no one has ever died from cannabis overdose (since they fall asleep before levels of toxicity reach lethal levels), studies are inconclusive as to whether or not heavy cannabis users can get addicted to it. So, I definitely think moderate use of cannabis is the smartest idea, because everyone knows bugging out is no fun. . But other than that, I fully support toking up.

So, that's that. There are tons more things I am passionate about, but for now, I think it's best that I cuddle with my kiddo in bed, because it's late.

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on doing what i love

My dream job would be wading through the muck of peoples inner demons, sorting them into neat little piles with the edges trimmed out, labeling them, shredding them, lighting fire to the shreds and using the ashes to finger paint acceptance onto their memories.

I love awful movies. Movies where the protagonist gets murderdeathkilled, heroinfaceraped, and has to watch their family go through Chinese water torture. Seriously though. I love thinking about their lives, how I could help them, or what they're thinking and sometimes I can relate to them. Movies like that make me feel like someone understands something or other about me. . . Understands how it feels to be alone, or sad, or hurt or whatever. Also, a cathartic cry never hurt anyone, bitches.

I used to check out psych textbooks from my school library. When I was twelve. And read them all the away through. Multiple times. I was a weird kid, with a fascination for sadness. Again, I think it's because I related.

So, my dream job is being a psychologist.

Because I love figuring people out, and attempting to figure myself out.

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what doesn't kill you. . .

The hardest thing I've ever had to go through. . Damn.

Um. It's kind of hard to pick one because they were all hard in different ways.

I think I'm going to have to go with loosing Chatham, and that whole time period in my life. Not only was having to go through an almost 2nd trimester miscarriage without a D&C awful, but it just ripped my brain to shreds.

I was also all alone in a town I was unfamiliar with, with no friends. I was depressed as all balls before I miscarried and the possibility (it wasn't a possibility in my head though, it was a certainty) of a baby drew me out of my depression and got me eating better.

That was actually the lowest weight I had been at in years, just skipping meals for days and even weeks at times. . It was just really easy to do by avoiding the cafeteria.

But-- I was eating. And tracking my intake and making sure I was getting enough protein (I was still a veggie at the time) and fats etc.

My med combo wasn't working at all and all I did was sleep. . In class, mostly. Actually, just everywhere. It was super embarrassing but I would just fall asleep when I didn't even want to (probably because I wasn't eating). My class notes go "and in 1852 General Batman sadhehwn iehfi hf fjeheiedhdi feejffh hie fjeejejefjeie.

Oh, and in the margins are absolutely awful things I had written about myself or plans about what I would eat if I could. Damn eating disorder. Even as I'm writing this I feel sad for who I was but part of me misses all of it.

And after I miscarried I dropped out of school because I couldn't concentrate at all.   But I felt like the biggest failure for dropping out. I knew I was smart, but I knew I would have killed myself, and to this day I know it was the right decision but I wish I hadn't made it. Now it's so much harder to go back even though I want to.

So, that's the hardest part of my life. It's a little random and disjointed but it's hard to remember because all I remember is a resounding DEPRESSED.

So much happier now. :]

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social anxiety

I hate people.
I hate the way they talk too much and too loudly.
I hate how they smell bad or good too strongly.
I hate how they do things that make me want to punch them, or cry, or call CPS or PETA or the cops.
I hate how nosey they are.
I hate their reactions to who I am.
Mostly, though I hate how I feel around them.

I have social anxiety. If it were up to me, I'd stay home. . All the time. I'd rather stay home than do pretty much anything. Dealing with people makes me sweat, disorients me and makes me generally stupid. I feel and sound like I have a mental disability. I worry about everything. How I look, how I walk, how my hair is, if I'll be able to get the carseat into the shopping cart without looking like an idiot, if I'll get the cart with the squeaky wheel, if I'll fuck up my change because I'm so flustered. . . You get the idea. This is constant.

When I'm planning on going somewhere, I have to think about all the alternatives. I have to be prepared. And it's exhausting. It's exhausting to think so much about something that seems so simple to everyone else.

Sometimes I'm fine. Those times, I have JP with me. He's my anchor. He doesn't care what anyone thinks about him or me, and I know he loves me even if I do mess my change up and stutter. He's good with people. He breaks awkward tension with jokes- and even delivers them well.

I don't really know how this all started. I've always been especially afraid of people. Maybe because I was the weird kid. My mom was Greek, my dad didn't let me go anywhere or do anything, I had no choice over what to wear till I was like 13. Maybe it started because I was ashamed.

Maybe I didn't get enough practice with other people. I didn't really have friends growing up. I remember two kids I saw occasionally that I played with. I mostly hung out with adults, or by myself. When I was with my parents (which I don't remember happening as often as most kids, since my Aunt Rita watched me while my parents worked, and by watched me, I mean I lived at her house most of the time) they'd go to prayer meetings. I'd color.

When we came to the states I stayed in my room and read. I won reading contests. I drew. That was my life. I wasn't allowed to go anywhere except church- and by church I meant the sermon part, and sometimes Sunday school. Sunday school and regular school were a case by case scenario, since my parents changed their minds about whether I should be allowed to go so often. I remember desperately wanting to belong. I remember sneaking out to go to youth group.

I think that's when my depression became the monster it was during my teen years as well. If I went to school during that time, I'd go in the mornings, my dad would be there, and come home and stay in my room. If I didn't go to school, I'd stay in my room and do homework, read, write angry poetry, and starting around year 11 or so, cut.

So, I suppose that would be as good a place as any for my social anxiety to start. My parents loosened up, eventually, but years of self-injury, eating disorders, multiple suicide attempts, two psychiatric stays and a desperate need to belong later, things still aren't right.

I still feel like I don't belong. I still don't have friends. And though I'm much more comfortable with myself, and have for the most part conquered my crazy demons, I still feel like that 13 year old girl who has no clue what other human beings are like.

Will I ever get over this? I have no clue. I fucking hope so, though. It would be nice to think about going to the store without feeling sick to my stomach. It would be nice not to worry about if Willow is going enough new places without feeling like I can't take her there. I want to show my baby the world, and I will, whether it hurts me or not. . . But hopefully, I can get to a place in my head where I will enjoy not only her enjoying the world, but the world itself.