|| all that glitters is sour ||

... this is where sam chills

[thatsthat24]

The Seven Deadly Sins: Gay Edition 🌈

[thefingerfuckingfemalefury]

Tag Urself I am Gay Lust

[deliciousanarchist]

Don't talk foody to me!

About diet talk and body positivity

This text started as an attempt to write about why I don’t like people commenting on (my) food when eating in public. While writing I realised I had to share more of my personal life and where I’m coming from, so it is more understandable why I’m having such a hard time with diet talk. In the end, this became a blog about diets, intuitive eating, self-care, and about respecting our own bodies and the bodies of others.

Society is pretty hung up on perfect bodies and, thus, food – those two seem to hang closely together. “We are what we eat”, right? Sounds legit. Or does it rather cut something very complex down to a simplifying and, well, blatantly incorrect sentence?

First of all, what we eat depends on so many things – like on the place we grow up, in what country we are born, and in what social part or class of society we were raised in. Also, when we look closely, stuff like what gender we are assigned with could be seen to make us choose different food. A lot of people believe that a “real man” needs to eat meat, or that women should generally eat less than men do. So “you are what you eat” strongly ignores social inequalities and, even worse, it judges you on things you did not decide by yourself.

It also sounds like a religion or a fatal cult. By this logic we are the sum of the food we eat. If we do “good” we get rewarded, if we do “bad” we will be punished. And if we get sick and some doctor tracks that back to our lifestyle (like to what we eat), then we supposedly brought it all on ourselves because we should have known better. We knew the rules of “health”, right? So if we have a heart attack, it’s because we ate too much fatty food. If we get diabetes, we ate too much sugar or simple carbohydrates. If we get an auto-immune disease, we exposed ourselves to too much to the “wrong” food like gluten, milk, or red meat. In all cases we definitely omitted to exercise enough, too, I’m sure.

And in the final consequence, if we brought our ‘unhealthy’ bodies on ourselves, then why should anyone, doctor or health insurance, help us and treat our disease? We made our bed, now we must lie in it, right?

A new diet theory every year

Don’t get me wrong, I’m not saying that our food and lifestyle does not have any impact on the condition of our bodies, but I’m sure that we get the cause wrong most of the time. The human body is so complex. Who are we do think that we figured it all out? Watching some new food being demonized every other year should have proven this to us by now, shouldn’t it?

We are exposed to so much information about diets and nutrition in the course of our lives: Don’t eat wheat. Oh wait, but you can eat older wheat like dinkle. Drinking milk will kill you. But milk is so healthy, because calcium, you should drink milk every day. Butter is better than margarine. No, margarine is better. Or are both equally bad for you but for different reasons? Fat is bad for you no matter what. No wait, some fats are actually good and we need them for our body to process other food groups. Vegetables are always good for you. Unless it’s corn. And watch out for canned foods because of all the salt and sugar in it, but frozen vegetables are fresh and untreated. Fruits are healthy. In general we should eat vegetables and fruits 5 times a day. Oh no wait, fruit has sugar in it, so it’s not good after all. But oh, vitamins. That’s a twist, I guess. Red meat is bad, white meat is good. Or is meat always bad and should we replace it with fish? Let’s all go vegan to save the planet! (At this point I’m not going into the debate on if we Middle/Northern Europeans should or shouldn’t eat stuff like avocados or quinoa, and how fish is tricky anyway because of overfishing. Food production in capitalism in general, oh my.)

If you speak/read German, I highly recommend the book “Fa(t)shionista” by Magda Albrecht from 2018. She shares a lot of personal stories about the relationship to her body but also scientific info like the history of BMI or where the diseases (and “diseases”) of modern society more likely come from. Did you know that the BMI was never meant for categorizing individuals? And that in 1997 the WHO just set a new BMI for ‘obesety’ which made millions of people become overweight overnight? Also Magda writes: “[A]uch bei Bluthochdruck, Blutzucker oder dem Cholesterinspiegel [hat] die Lobbyarbeit der Pharmaindustrie dafür gesorgt [...], dass Grenzwerte so lange gesenkt wurden, bis die Mehrzahl der Bevölkerung in mindestens eine der zahlreichen Risikofaktoren fielen: Alles für die Gesundheit, natürlich! Oder vielleicht auch nur für die Geldbeutel großer Unternehmen?” (p. 157 // in english: “It’s the same with blood pressure, blood sugar or cholesterol. The drug industry kept declining the setpoint values for those too, so now most of our society suffers from at least one of those risk factors. All for the sake of health, of course! Or is it for the sake of the wallets of large companies?”)

Life is all about diversity

When I was 17 I stopped eating meat, and I was  immediately told from a lot of different people whose opinions I never asked for that becoming a vegetarian is really unhealthy. (Of course now, in 2019, that viewpoint has shifted from vegetarians to vegans, so…)

Whenever my iron was low my doctors told me it was probably from being a vegetarian. Or from having my period. Or if they had been honest with me and themselves – they had no idea. Sometimes blood levels change, and who is to say that everybody has the same range of components in their blood? For example, my leukocytes are so low all the time that I would constantly be sick from colds and other infections. Surprisingly, I hardly ever have those. I do have other issues though. We’re all different, and our bodies react differently to medications, food, and different lifestyles. It’s a little like hormones. If you use hormone levels to prove that there are only two genders you won’t get very far. Like using blood components to divide people into healthy and unhealthy. Let’s give biology some credit and see how diverse we are on so many levels, shall we?

All my life I have been interested in food theories and diets. At some point in my life I even wanted to become a nutritionist, but then got scared of chemistry and all the science behind it. But I also had a dark interest in diets, too. Being a teenager I had a phase of body hate that resulted in an eating disorder that resulted in drastically cutting down my food until I lost more and more weight. I soon looked very thin and according to a lot of people in my life, “really great”. The doctors who had suggested I “lose a few pounds” were happy too. Myself? I felt like crap. And even after all that weight loss, I didn’t even see my body as thin, so disconnected was I to body image and the reality of it. Looking back on those pictures today, I feel fear – I can’t even recognise myself in them, I look so gaunt.

Good bye, diet mentality

However, I learned something from that experience: Being thin doesn’t automatically make me happy. And realizing that back then I felt betrayed by science. It should have worked, right? Lose weight, feel great!? I guess not.

I wish I could say that this made me come to peace with my body for good, but it didn’t. Later in life I still tried to change my body and/or weight by regulating my diet and using sports, very often against the will of my body. Yet I was never one of the people who did an official diet, I never used concepts like the “Ornish Diet”, “The Grapefruit Diet” or the new “Brigittte Diät”. But at some point in life I realized I became an “unconscious dieter”. This is a term I found a few years ago in a book called “Intuitive Eating” (Tribole/Resch 1995/2012: 9) and resonated. For example, at times I felt like I should cut back on chocolate or processed food only because I felt like I should strive for a more healthy lifestyle and a healthier body (whatever that’s supposed to be). I never would have called this “being on a diet”, but in fact I was: I acted on internalised food rules, was not listening to my body, and was very judgemental about my eating behaviour (in the privacy of my thoughts) while dividing food into good and bad.

Every time I changed the food on my table I got disappointed again to find that my body did not react the way I expected it to. For weeks I rationalised my chocolate consumption, but it only lead to me being unsatisfied because I wanted more chocolate or I wanted it at a time I wouldn’t allow myself. Sometimes I did not want it at all when scheduled but ate it anyway because I felt like I should not let the opportunity for chocolate pass me by.

Giving your body what it doesn’t want and withholding your body from what it needs can’t ever be healthy. In other words, quoting Tribole/Resch: “A dieting body is a starving body” (Tribole/Resch 1995/2012: 59).

Listen to your heart... or your body in general

Later in life I stopped consuming cow’s milk and everything that is made from it on the advice of various therapies. It’s common if you have an immune-disease like I have, to look for clues in your diet, too. Meanwhile I started avoiding eggs and coconut milk, because they didn’t leave me feeling well. But, occasionally, I get the feeling I want to eat them and, when I listen to my body, that impulse is right and I don’t feel sick afterwards. Body intuition for the win.

Realising that I actually have a good sense of what food is good for me and what isn’t, the whole diet problem began to make more sense. I was trying to press my food schedule into the desires or the nutrition that other people came up with. This would never have worked. Actually, I think we all have that sense of what is good for us, but it’s covered with all the public opinions on diets and the “perfect” body.

When I really allow myself to listen to my body, most of the time I can feel what it needs and what it doesn’t. Nothing is off limits.

If only it was that easy. Because by listening to my body, I have to ward of constant urges society has given me to divide my food into “good food” and “bad food”. I have to push aside the illusion that a thin body would make me happy. I have to push aside all the body shaming I have internalised. The thought that our body is something to be hated or be feared and that it has to be punished if we are too weak to stay on our fancy paleo or whatever diet.

In the end, it’s all about self-respect, body-positivity, and about acknowledging that our body is not a machine. Our body is a complex system and no one else but us can say what it needs.

You eat tomatoes, I want potatoes

Listening to my body is getting me different results every day. Some essential things stay kind of the same though. Like, my body has almost zero problems with carbohydrates, and I love eating potatoes in any form imaginable. Gluten and yeast are fine with me, bread making an appearance in my meals every day.  Occasionally I like things made of soy/tofu, but they’re not my go to protein. I love legumes and vegetables of all kinds, but I only like to eat (raw) fruits on rare occasions. Green salad and raw food in general is tricky, and mostly repulsive. Yet from time to time I crave a green salad with a simple vinegar-honey dressing. Especially in public spaces, vegan food works best for me because then I can be sure there is no meat and no cow milk in there. Also I just love vegan food.

But that’s just how my body works right now. I believe for everybody there’s different food that works best. Let’s not act like there is one diet that works on all of us. Also our body and the food we need changes over time. And I guess in theory we all know that, but our routines are still hard to change.

The other day I read a tagline online saying, “Being obsessed with health doesn’t make you healthy. It only makes you obsessed”. And had to take a minute at the truth behind it. Especially as we can’t say what makes us healthy anyway. But we can say if something makes us feel good or not. Eating according to my intuition is the thing that has made most sense to me up to now, compared to all other diets and nutrition theories. Being happy while eating and the simple feeling that my body is having a good time is more important than eating what society thinks is right.

My struggle with intuition

I have to admit there is still one thing I have not figured out yet, and it’s something that’s overshadowed by my eating disorder from my teenage years that sometimes catches up with me: How many meals a day work best with me? So far I think it’s not three big meals, but more meals of different sizes. And eating at what time of the day works best for me? I try to listen to my body and eat when it feels right. Whereas, I can get a good feeling what I want to eat, I’m not that good in knowing when to eat. And having experienced an eating disorder, I know I can very well suppress the feeling of hunger, sometimes unconsciously. I have a lot of awful strategies to trick my body. There is a part of me that likes to punish my body by keeping it from eating. So this is really tricky and I’m still working on it.

And of course there is a major problem for all of us: our other-directed daily routines. Eating intuitively would work way better if only we could decide what and when to eat everyday. But with having to work to make money to pay for rent and – oh right, food (ha) and everything else, a lot of my meals are not all decided by myself. I can’t arrive to work at any given time, so I often have breakfast earlier than I’d like to. Then my day is filled with projects and meetings and private dates, so I have to plan my meals around them.

Not only that, too much stress makes it hard for me to hear what my body needs. I love chocolate (in case I haven’t mentioned this before ;)), but when I am too stressed out by work I eat chocolate for stress release. This is not bad in general. But after a while of this happening again and again I don’t even enjoy eating the chocolate. So next time I want to eat chocolate, instead I try questioning that decision and try to listen to my body: Is this really what would make me feel good now? And sometimes it is and I eat chocolate. Sometimes it’s not, and then I try to figure out what I want instead and what would really make me feel better. I do like things such as sugar, beer, and even smoking a cigarette from time to time. But I do not like it when I stop enjoying these things and only use them because I am stressed or sad or angry. Sure, I sometimes have a beer after a shitty day and that’s okay, but I would hate to make a habit out of that. Both the shitty days and the beers.

So I guess my theories don’t always work perfectly yet. It’s a work in progress.

Relearning the rules

In the last couple of years I had to relearn a lot of opinions and reflexes I was taught about eating when being young. And I’m still (un)learning, like: There is no good food/bad food. I don’t have to finish my plate if I am not hungry anymore. It’s okay to eat something else instead too. I don’t have to eat lots of fruits and vegetables every day if the thought of eating it makes me sick. I don’t have to stick to a fix count of meals a day. I don’t have to eat the same amount of food every day. And so on.

One more thing I try to learn is not to explain why I eat or won’t eat something right now. I used to say stuff like “I’m not hungry”, “I already ate so much today” or “Nothing for me, I had a late breakfast” or “It’s too late in the evening for me to be eating now” or thinking “I already had fries for lunch, I can’t have fries for dinner again”. Nope. No explanations, no regrets, no diet talk, no body shaming anymore. Three carbs-only-meals in a row because it feels right? I’ll do it. Eating dinner at 11pm because my body longs for food right now? Sure. If I’m not ravenous, but still feel my body would love something to eat? I’m having it.

Sharing’s not always caring

Something I don’t enjoy a lot for many different reasons is eating in public. I’m easily stressed by social situations in general but especially when it comes to sharing a meal, so I don’t often eat together with other people.

The other reason for that is that I hate it when people comment on my food. Or the food of others. Or their own food. And I don’t mean comments like “Wow, that looks so good!” or “I think I will order that myself”, I would love those comments. No, the comments I hear and hate a lot are comments that appear harmless, but really mess with my head. Like when I order and the person next to me says “Wow that’s quite a big portion!” or “Oooh, that looks like pure sugar” or “That would be impossible for me to eat.”

It’s tricky even if people make that comments about their own food. When someone eats half of the food on their plate and then says, “This was so much, now I’m going to be full for the rest of the day.” How will that make the person feel that sits next to them that ate all the food on the plate and is still hungry? Especially when that person commenting is thinner than the other one? 

Sorry, but in a world that condemns sugar (or even all carbs) and divides good and bad food and wants us to eat less food in general, those comments can’t ever be neutral observations or harmless notes.

Keeping your diet talk to yourself

“I get through the day easily without eating much at all.” “Eating a lot of fast food makes me feel toxic.” “Gluten is pure poison for my body.” “Since I’m doing [insert new diet] I feel like a human again.” “I can’t eat anything right now, I had a generous lunch.” “I could never function when eating toast with Nutella for breakfast.” “I’ll burn off the calories in the gym later.” “Alright, today is my ‘cheat day’.”

All of these comments are steeped in society's expectations.

I totally get that these are things people say about themselves in that moment, and if I’d only see them as self-revelation it guess it would be fine in a way. But that’s not how communication works, especially not with topics that are so morally pre-shaped like diets, food, and bodies. On good days, I can brush these words off, but on bad days I fall into despair: Why don’t I want to eat salad more? Why do I have to like chocolate so much? Maybe gluten is poison for me too, but I just don’t know it yet? My lunch was also generous, but I’m hungry again. What’s wrong with me? Why didn’t I get through today without much food? (This is an especially hard sentence for me as it cuts right into my eating disorder whispering that I could too, and all I have to do is… yeah, let’s not go there.)

Sometimes I wish I could just share meals without anyone making comments on the food beyond if they like it or not – their eating habits, and their or my body, all disguised as small talk. I think we should all be more careful how we talk about food because it’s a minefield full of stereotypes, preoccupations, shame, and it mostly comes with our personal past full of hurtful experiences with diet talk. So let’s think about how what we say can make other people feel like, and maybe let’s remember that most of us carry trauma from the topics of diet and food in one or another way.

~Sam Chills, 2019

[courtneywirthit]

“Confessions of a Demisexual”

I have come to realize I identify as a demisexual. After trying to figure out a way to explain to my friends and family, I wanted a visual to help me explain it and what it means to me. I searched the internet and I couldn’t really find a comic that could help visualize my personal feelings on the topic so I decided to put this together.

I had a lot more information I wanted to include, but I didn’t want it to be overwhelming as I felt this was already a pretty informative piece. I feel like if there is more to share, including my personal experiences, or to help clarify misconceptions, etc. I will consider it!

FOR MORE INFORMATION:

www.demisexuality.org www.asexuality.org www.demisexuality.freeforums.net www.asexualityarchive.com www.reddit.com/r/demisexuality/

and there’s so much more!

[deadpoolsbottombitch]

Shoutout to the people who:

-have symptoms that aren’t visible to others

-are able to function even while in extreme pain

-hide their illness well

-who don’t “seem sick”

-who have flareups at night or other times when no one else sees

-fight a daily battle that others can’t see

-feel like they’re making too big of a deal out of their illness because “it could be worse!”

I see you out there, I feel you, you’re awesome.

[deliciousanarchist]

Your Rules Don‘t Apply

It’s tough to always fight against rules that other people or, mostly, society has thrown upon us. This is not a new epiphany to many of us I’m sure, but it’s so important to remember. Because so often I feel tired and drained from life and then I wonder why, especially if I only had my usual work days or even days of working at home. I mean we all work and we‘re not exhausted all the time, right? Then what’s so exhausting for me? And I guess the answer would be: all the little fights and all the attempts to hold my ground. And as a non-binary trans person who works in left autonomous politics a lot and who is chronically ill since forever, I have to say: this is exhausting.

I’m still trying to learn to respect my own boundaries and to see what I and my body need at any given moment. Also, I’m not always good at saying ‘no’ when it comes to projects, tasks, to dos etc. One reason is that I hate to let people down, to tell them I can’t do stuff I thought I could do. I want to think of myself as a responsible person who others can depend on. But there is also a second reason that I only realized recently and which is such a big fear that it makes me cry when I think about it too much: if I yield now I might not be able to stop again. Ever. If I give way now, if I stop doing stuff that is important to me, this might be the beginning of the end. Of my end.

And, of course, I can’t have that.

The little fights are exhausting

Besides the roughly 40 hours per week spent on my graphic design jobs, I’m also part of two queer political groups in the town I live in. One group demands quite a lot of time, depending on how much I can and want to give. I have a few friends I like to meet with regularly, I play in a band project, I like to draw, I like to write, I like to cook, I like to ride my bike, I need to watch quite a few TV shows, and I have to do stuff like my taxes. To be honest, my weekly schedule is usually jammed. I’m sure I’m no exception compared to most of you.

Mostly I don’t realize while doing it but I keep throwing tons of things on my to do list, and as soon as I check them off the list I forget they were ever unchecked. Then it’s like there is this almost empty to do list and I’m free to do so many things. So I keep adding new projects to the list instead of taking a break first or to celebrate that I got shit done. This way I always feel like I should have all the time and energy in the world, and my to do list is always open for suggestions. At the same time I feel like I never really do anything and there can’t be a reason to be exhausted. And the feeling of exhaustion feels like the biggest failure there is, because there clearly is no reason for feeling that way, right?

*narrator’s voice* They could not have been more wrong... *downbeat music playing*

But let’s take a step back to the thought from the beginning of this text: I’m exhausted by the little things and the daily attempts to hold my ground. Somewhere inside of me I always have to find the strength to say: “Your rules don’t apply to me.” Society has a lot of opinions on how we should live our lives. How we should work. What our homes should look like. How we should spend our free time. What kind of relationships we should have. How we should see ourselves and what we should identify as. What our bodies should look like and how it should fit our (binary) gender. Let’s not even begin to talk about all the structural racist, sexist, nationalist, toxic mud that society, the state, and also we ourselves keep pouring over us.

So often it feels like I’m constantly pushing back.

I am no superhero

And sometimes I wonder: wouldn’t it be easier to just give in? To get a well-paid, meaningless job? To believe in only two genders? To identify with the gender I was assigned with at birth? (I really wish I could.) To have sex with the important people in my life because at least then the relationship would be taken serious? Or to get married? Buy a car? Buy a one-family-house? To believe that the police and the government know what they’re doing and that they only want what’s best for us? To think dividing the world into national states is a good idea? To not think about where the food on my table comes from? To not think about environmentalism? To read the news and not burst into tears because instead I convince myself that stuff that happens outside of my own four walls should not concern me. To block out all critical thoughts?

Maybe.

But I can’t even walk the streets without scanning everything and everyone around me while thinking about inequality and injustice. Thinking about how all of our lives could be easily different, better, and just. This is the real shame of it, if we all would work together and take care of each other’s actual needs, this world could be really awesome. Again, this is exhausting, watching the world wrecking itself and not really being able to do anything about it. Of course I try to do my part in making this world a better place, but in the end, none of it will matter.

Or will it?

However, if one big part of your life is the fight against society’s injustice you’re either a superhero or your to do list is always jammed and you are always tired. Exhaustion on so many levels; your fight is structural but also personal. And then there is the rest of the to do list which is not about social fights. I often don’t even know where to start, and at the end of the day I don’t know when to stop, staring at my computer, working until late into the night. Never giving in, because like I said before: giving in could be the beginning of the end.

Perspectives with chronic diseases

I think these habits have a lot to do with my chronic disease too. I always feel like I am in a rush, not having enough time to do all the things I want to do. Every so often I have the feeling that I will die soon. And before that I have to finish so many projects and ideas. From an early age I had to learn that some things in life will never be good again, some physical limitations will stay forever. And I learned that life is so very fragile—everything can vanish in a heartbeat. When I was a teenager I never thought I would live to be older than 38. I can’t really say why I got that exact number stuck in my head but I always thought that would be the age I would die. Later in life I doubted that theory because there was no rational reason for it to be true. But it still lingered, for whatever reason.

Being 40 years old now I still find it tough to come up with a plan for the next years or decades. When other people tell me about their retirement plans I realize I don’t even see myself reaching old age. Because of my chronic arthritis I use medications that can come with the weirdest—and also deathly—side effects. Putting my depression on top of that there is no reason for me to believe I will get very old at all.

That’s why I always hurry to finish my projects and my political stuff. And I always try to get the most out of my relationships, and try to be as honest as possible with myself and all the important people in my life. Because if I die tomorrow I don’t want to leave any regrets or unspoken truths. The feeling of living on borrowed time is always with me. I never know when the next exacerbation of my symptoms, or the next depression, will hit me. So I feel like I have to get as much out of this life as possible, but without destroying my body too much. This is the tricky part.

So when I meet with my friends I never want the evening to stop and will only leave when I almost fall asleep. I will never just drink one beer at the pub. I won’t leave the gym before I feel my body tells me to stop. I will always question my jobs, whether they make enough sense to me or if they just drain me of my life energy. I think a lot about lifestyles, drug use, eating choices, and all that. But I try not to be obsessive about it and not in a way to be as “healthy” as possible but rather to have the best time possible with as much caretaking as possible. I guess the challenge is to find a good middle ground.

Today’s depression

Every so often people tell me to lower my expectations of myself, to not expect myself to do that many things all the time. And as much as I agree and see where they’re coming from, I wonder how I can do this. How would I even know to what extent my expectations should be lowered? What if I have to make it lower and lower and lower and then suddenly there is nothing left? I will just fade into nothingness with no ability to do anything anymore. Of course this is the inevitable end of all of our lives, I know that, but it’s still scary.

Some weeks ago I started seeing a therapist (the 4th therapy of my life so far) because I kept having these extreme mood swings from a very high, very good mood to the depths of not seeing any light through all the clouds of depression and exhaustion, changing in a heartbeat. And I cried a lot and mostly didn’t even know why. Sometimes I feel it’s because I think about death, about the finite nature of life. Sometimes I cry because I feel the weight of the world on my shoulders and can’t understand why this world is the way it is and why we don’t all work together to change it to a better, more social version. Sometimes I cry because my body shows me boundaries and won’t let me do stuff I want to do. Or because I obsess about changes happening with my body, scrutinizing every inch and questioning if this could be the beginning of a new exacerbation.

Maybe these issues can’t ever be solved, maybe I can only learn to live better with them. I’ve already learned a lot about myself and my disease in the last decades so I might even learn more now. So far, the most important insight of my therapy is: life is random chaos, we are not in control of much. It’s a real challenge trying not to validate my body, my moods, and everything else that happens in my life. For example, there is no such thing as “bad moods”, there are just moods. And if you get annoyed by feeling depressed it won’t change the mood, but now, on top of feeling down, you’re annoyed by yourself as well.

Standing on a beach, staring at the sea

I also learned something really nice about myself in therapy: I built my life in a way that makes it okay to die any day. Not that I want to die, but if I did I would be okay. I know I made the choices in life I wanted to make, had the relationships I wanted to have and created the art I wanted to create. Of course, hindsight’s always 20/20 but given all the circumstances, I made the best decisions I could at the time. And I feel like this is a pretty good intermediate result in life.

Another thing I’m trying to do better is to think things through. When something scares me I try not to panic and instead I think it through right to the end. When I’m scared that I might get the next exacerbation or that I will die tomorrow, I try not to panic. Instead I think what it would be like, for example, to die. And not being a religious person I don’t believe in anything happening after death. But I’d imagine if I die it will be like sitting on a beach, listening to the waves, tasting the salt on my lips, getting really calm and quiet, and the breathing will slow down, and, just the way I’d fall asleep at a warm and sunny beach, my mind will just fade, and all pain will finally go away. I’m not in any rush to get there, but now death does not feel that bad after all.

 There's no point to any of this. It's just a random lottery of meaningless tragedy and a series of near escapes. So I take pleasure in the details. You know. A quarter-pounder with cheese, those are good, the sky about ten minutes before it starts to rain, the moments where your laughter becomes a cackle... And I sit back and smoke my Camel Straights and I ride my own melt. ~ Reality Bites

( CC-by-nc-nd sam chills, 2018)

[queerpackpublishing]

Are you ready for your queer adventure? Because Queerly Loving Volume One is out now! http://queer-pack.com/books/queerly-loving-anthology-volume-1

Queer characters getting their happy endings abound in this first book of a two-part collection. Discover pages upon pages of compelling stories about aromantic warriors, trans sorceresses, and modern-day LGBTQA+ quirky characters. Friendship, platonic love, and poly triads are all celebrated. Lose yourself in masterfully woven tales wrapped in fantasy and magic, delve into a story that brings the eighties back to life in vibrant color, get lost in space, and celebrate everything queer. Get ready for your queer adventure!

[queerpackpublishing]

Cover reveal: Queerly Loving (Volume #1)

http://queer-pack.com/boo…/queerly-loving-anthology-volume-1

We are so excited for the cover reveal for part one of our Queerly Loving anthology, coming November 2017! This anthology will bring you an incredible collection of fantastically queer from across the LGBTQA+ spectrum by authors that will blow your socks off.

Amazing cover done by the great @marceline2174

[deliciousanarchist]

Chronisch krank: in Scheiben, nicht am Stück

Bei meinem letzten Krankheitsschub* sind mir ein paar Dinge aufgefallen. Teilweise geht es um meinem Umgang mit meiner Krankheit und teilweise um den Umgang von Menschen um mich herum mit mir wenn ich krank bin. Und da ich kein Tagebuch führe, wähle ich tumblr zum festhalten.

*Meine chronische Krankheit heißt Psoriasis-Arthritis. Sie ist eine der vielen Krankheiten, die unter dem Begriff Rheuma zusammengefasst werden. Und weil ich Rheuma habe, seit ich so 3-5 Jahre alt war, weiß ich gar nicht, wie ein Leben ohne chronische Krankheit wäre.

Bitte sagen Sie jetzt nichts

Ich finde es ja generell anstrengend, wenn Menschen glauben, sie müssten Körper von anderen Menschen kommentieren (oder ihre Kleidung oder sonstige Dinge). In den seltensten Fällen ist das auch nur irgendwie hilfreich, und meist sagt es eh mehr über die Person aus, die den Kommentar macht als die Person, über die der Kommentar gemacht wurde.

Wenn es mir gerade krankheitsmäßig nicht gut geht, dann ist mein Körper in meiner Wahrnehmung noch präsenter als sonst. Ich brauche also nicht von anderen Menschen zu hören, dass ich krank, müde oder sonstwie schlimm aussehe, das weiß ich sehr wahrscheinlich nämlich schon. Okay, es gibt seltene Ausnahmen für solche Kommentare, zB „Du siehst müde aus, magst du eine Cola oder ein Stück Kuchen haben?“ oder „Du wirkst ein wenig kaputt, darf ich dich nach Hause fahren?“ Diese Ausnahmen gelten natürlich nur, wenn sie von Nahmenschen kommen. Ich möchte von fremden Menschen lieber nicht nach Hause gefahren werden.

Prinzipiell möchte ich übrigens in 99,9% der Fälle keine Ratschläge bezüglich meiner Behandlung haben. Ich habe in den letzten Jahrzehnten vermutlich sowieso schon alle alternativen Heilmethoden gehört, die es so gibt. Von Magnetfeldtherapie über Nahrungsergänzungsmittel aus Algen bis zu Theorien über Arachidonsäure. Ich will damit nicht sagen, dass darunter nicht Dinge sein können, die hilfreich sind. Es ist nur oft witzig, wenn mich Leute gerade seit 5 Minuten kennen, zufällig von meiner Krankheit erfahren, und direkt wissen, was ich tun muss, damit meine Psoriasis-Arthritis sofort und für immer verschwindet. Klar, ich hab in den letzten 35 Jahren bestimmt niemals was ausprobiert und hab nur auf Ideen fremder Menschen gewartet: Wenn ich jetzt nie wieder Gluten esse. Zucker ist echt böse. Mal 10 Kilo abnehmen. Mein Körper ist übersäuert? Äh. Seufz.

Spannend fände ich höchstens, wenn ihr von neuen TNF-alpha-Blockern wisst, die in Deutschland bald für die Behandlung von PsA zugelassen werden. Ah stimmt nicht, ich finde auch vegane Kochrezepte spannend. Und vermutlich noch 1-2 andere Themen.

Ich meinte das andere „Gut“

Ich bin immer wieder verblüfft, wenn ich mal wieder vergessen hatte, wie schlimm Schmerzen mal waren. Wenn mich jemand fragen würde, ob ich in meinem Leben oft Schmerzen habe, würde ich „Nein, meist ist alles gut“ sagen. Nun bedeutet mein „gut“ aber nicht dasselbe wie es für gesunde Menschen bedeuten würde. Gut bedeutet für mich: Ich habe gelernt, mein Leben so auszurichten, dass ich möglichst wenig Schmerzen habe. Und wenn ich halbwegs okay durch den Tag komme ohne schlimmste Schmerzen oder gar einen Zusammenbruch oder so zu haben, dann ist es ein guter Tag. Und in den wenigsten Phasen meines Lebens gab es überhaupt Tage, die komplett schmerzfrei sind. Schmerz gehört fast immer zu meinem Alltag dazu. Das kann also schon mal gar nicht der Maßstab dafür sein, wie es mir geht.

Im U-Bahnschacht der Stadt, in der ich seit vielen Jahren lebe, gibt es eine bestimmte Treppe, die ich inzwischen nicht mehr so oft sehe, weil ich heute andere S-Bahnen nehme als damals. Aber wenn ich diese Treppe doch zufällig mal wieder sehe, fällt mir jedes Mal ein, wie ich dort mal vor vielen, vielen Jahren kaum herunterlaufen konnte, weil meine Gelenke so verdammt wehgetan haben. Ich weiß noch, dass ich ewig brauchte, bis ich die Treppe geschafft hatte und völlig verschwitzt unten ankam. Manchmal erinnere ich mich auch an andere Treppen, die ich rückwärts hoch- oder runtergehen musste, weil das weniger weh tat. So manche Treppen in meinem Leben, zum Beispiel Treppenhäuser oder die Treppe damals im Haus meiner Eltern, habe ich auch öfter mal auf dem Hintern rutschend bezwungen, weil es nicht anders ging.

An all das erinnere ich mich aber nur selten. Es gehört halt dazu, mir Strategien auszudenken, möglichst wenig Schmerzen zu haben. Ich hatte vor einigen Jahren mal eine ergotherapeutische Mini-Schulung dazu, wie ich mich möglichst gelenkschonend bewege. Zum Beispiel: Wenn ich auf dem Boden sitze und dann aufstehen möchte – wie stütze ich mich am besten mit den Händen ab? Die Schulung war ziemlich schnell zu Ende, weil ich (passiv) alles schon wusste bzw alles schon richtig gemacht hatte. Einfach weil ich mit körperlichen Einschränkungen aufgewachsen bin und immer schon (unbewusst) darauf achten musste, Schmerzen zu verringern.

Werde ich also gefragt: „Wie geht es grad mit deinen Gelenken?“ Dann sage ich meist voller Überzeugung: „Ganz gut.“ - „Heißt das, du bist schmerzfrei?“ - „Oh honey, no.“

Vergleiche zwischen Krankheiten

Vor einer Weile hatte ich schon mal einen Blogbeitrag über mein Leben mit chronischen Krankheiten gepostet. Dort habe ich u.a. beschrieben, wie schwierig ich es finde, wenn andere Menschen (die nicht chronisch krank sind) ihre temporären Krankheiten mit meinen vergleichen. Das meine ich, ohne das Leiden der anderen Person abschwächen zu wollen, denn eine Grippe zu haben ist immer kacke. Aber sorry, wenn ich eine Grippe habe, ist es trotzdem etwas anderes, als wenn eine ansonsten gesund Person mal eine Grippe hat. Mein Immunsystem ist ständig entweder überdreht oder durch Medikamente manipuliert. Das ist super tricky und funktioniert alles nicht immer so, wie es soll. Wenn ich dann eine Grippe bekomme, kann das sein, als würde jemand Öl ins Feuer gießen. Sie dauert ewig und führt meistens direkt zur nächsten Krankheit (Bronchitis, Mittelohrentzündung). Mein Körper ist dann also erstmal ne Weile beschäftigt. Und dann von Menschen zu hören, die nicht chronisch krank sind „oh ja, ich bin auch dauernd krank grad“ ist wirklich absurd. An schlecht gelaunten Tagen denke ich dann zynisch: „Ganz bestimmt bist du nicht ‘dauernd krank’, glaub mir.“

Außerdem ist das Vergleichen oder Gleichsetzen von Krankheiten doch eh quatsch. Ist doch kein Wettbewerb des Leidens hier. Und es fühlt sich für mich auch nicht wie Solidarität an, wenn andere Menschen ihr Kranksein äußern weil ich meins gerade geäußert habe. Trotzdem erlebe ich sehr oft, dass wenn ich sage, dass es mir nicht gut geht, mir mein Gegenüber erst mal die eigenen Krankheiten berichtet. Ich finde, wenn eine Person sagt „Mir geht’s grad nicht gut“, dann kann die richtige Antwort doch nur lauten: „Mist, das tut mir leid zu hören.“ In welcher Welt ist eine passende Antwort: „Mir geht’s auch schlecht.“ (Sicher gibt’s seltene Fälle, in denen das passend ist. Ganz, ganz seltene.)

Nahmenschen als Erinnerungshilfe

So sehr ich fürchte, dass Krankheiten nie wieder weggehen, so schnell vergesse ich aber auch schlimme Krankheitsphasen wieder. Ich erkläre mir das dadurch, dass ich nicht mehr klarkäme im Leben, wenn ich die krassen Krankheitsphasen ständig so präsent hätte. Neulich war ich zum Beispiel davon überzeugt, dass ich noch nie so lange nach einem neuen Medikament gesucht hätte wie zur Zeit (ein halbes Jahr). Ich war ein wenig verzweifelt. Oder sehr.

Eine Nahperson erinnerte mich dann daran, dass die letzte Phase als ich ein neues Medi suchen musste, mindestens ein Dreiviertel Jahr gedauert hatte, wenn nicht länger. Die Person war damals dabei, was inzwischen fast 10 Jahre her ist. In meiner Erinnerung war diese Phase der Medi-Suche auf höchstens 3 Monate geschrumpft. In Wirklichkeit hatte aber allein der Zeitraum des ewigen Fiebers ca. 5 Wochen gedauert. Ich hatte als Nebenwirkung irgendeines Medikaments ständig krass hohes Fieber, so richtig runter ging es wochenlang nicht. Sogar all die Dinge, die ich als Gegenmaßnahme probiert hatte, waren mir entfallen: kalte Wadenwickel zum Beispiel oder warme Milch mit Honig und Pfeffer trinken. Erst als ich daran erinnert wurde, fiel es mir wieder ein. Die Pfeffer-Honig-Milch war übrigens super eklig, daran erinnerte ich mich auch wieder. Auf jeden Fall waren diese Infos mehr als hilfreich: Es ist also aktuell nicht schlimmer als es jemals war, es fühlt sich nur so an.

Immer, wenn ich krank bin, habe ich Angst, dass das jetzt für immer so bleibt. Wieso? Naja, bei chronischen Krankheiten ist es nun mal oft so, dass vereinzelte Dinge niemals wieder gut werden. Zum Beispiel Arthritis: Gelenke entzünden sich, schubweise, immer wieder. Irgendwann hinterlässt das Spuren, zB gehen Gelenkknorpel kaputt. Das führt dann wieder zu Entzündungen, und irgendwann ist das Gelenk dann für immer crappy und deformiert. Oder durch Allergien entsteht Asthma Bronchiale oder chronischer Schnupfen. Und das bleibt dann mehr oder weniger so, es geht jedenfalls nie mehr richtig weg. Und weil ich sowas gewohnt bin, fürchte ich auch bei anderen Dingen, dass sie für immer so bleiben. Selbst, wenn das super unwahrscheinlich ist, zum Beispiel bei Mittelohrentzündungen, Halsschmerzen oder einer kleinen Hautinfektion.

Körperkram

Krankheitsphasen sind außerdem Zeiten, in denen ich glaube, dass mich alle Menschen mit ziemlicher Wahrscheinlichkeit schrecklich finden, auf jegliche Art unattraktiv, vielleicht sogar nervig oder unerträglich. Überwiegend sind das Projektionen, weil ich das gerade selbst über mich denke. Umso cooler ist es, wenn mir Nahmenschen was Gegenteiliges sagen, zB wenn sie mir Komplimente für meine neue Hose oder Frisur machen. Oder wenn sie was mit mir unternehmen, obwohl ich nicht ganz fit bin. Auch wenn es manchmal nur zum Seriengucken reicht, weil ich für alles andere zu kaputt wäre. Oder ein Ausflug mit dem Auto ins Einkaufszentrum, weil ich zu müde und weinerlich für die S-Bahn bin. Es ist total wichtig, dass die Nahmenschen nicht weglaufen oder sich erst wieder bei mir melden würden, wenn ich gesund bin. Aber in dem Fall wären es vermutlich auch keine Nahmenschen ;)

In Krankheitsphasen merke ich außerdem, was für krasse Ansprüche ich eigentlich an meinen Körper habe: Er soll funktionieren. Und er soll vor allem nicht auffallen. Letzteres hat sicherlich auch was mit meiner enby (non-binary) Selbstverortung zu tun bzw. eher gesagt mit meinem Körper, der in der Öffentlichkeit mal als männlich und mal als weiblich gelesen und kommentiert wird. Oft irritiert mein Körper (fremde) Menschen, so dass es nicht immer so unbeschwert ist, mich in der Öffentlichkeit aufzuhalten. Wenn dann auch noch Kranksein dazu kommt, möchte ich mich umso mehr verkriechen und dass am liebsten niemand meinen Körper sieht. Aber wer mag im kranken Zustand schon gern fremde Menschen treffen?

Wenn das Kranksein in Form eines Schubs da ist, der sich über Monate oder noch länger hinzieht, dann wird das Unwohlsein mit dem eigenen Körper ein immer größeres Problem. Und auch wenn „Selfcare“ (Dinge tun, die mir gut tun) in solchen Schüben wichtig ist, so beendet dies den Schub ja nicht. Ich kann hauptsächlich warten und noch mehr warten, geduldig sein, und daran glauben, dass der Schub irgendwann wieder vorübergeht.

Mythos von krank vs. gesund

Solche Krankheitsphasen machen klarerweise auch was mit mir auf psychischer Ebene. Chronische Krankheiten haben 1. oft nicht nur eine Ursache sondern viele und 2. sind die Ursachen mit ziemlicher Wahrscheinlichkeit gar nicht alle bekannt. Ja, Stress spielt mit hinein, aber nicht nur. Ja, Ernährung kann ein Faktor sein, aber nicht nur. Ja, genetische Veranlagung, aber nicht nur. Ja, irgendwelche „Umweltfaktoren“, aber nicht nur. Vielleicht auch gar nichts davon, vielleicht auch etwas komplett unbekanntes. Es gibt einfach keine eindeutige Kausalität für Schübe, kein “xyz ist passiert, deshalb der Schub” oder “wenn ich jetzt xyz mache, wird es wieder gut”. Es kommt einfach irgendwann, dann habe ich je länger der Schub dauert immer mehr Angst, dass er niemals wieder geht. Aber irgendwann geht es mir dann doch wieder besser. Und dann sitze ich da, der Schub ist weg – und ich hab keine Ahnung, wieso?! Und wann das alles wiederkommt, und wie ich das nur ertragen soll.

Mir fällt immer wieder auf, dass ich von mir und meinem Körper einen gesunden Idealzustand im Kopf habe. Eine Vision davon, wie es sein sollte, wenn alles gut ist. Und hier spielen dann wieder die schon erwähnten krassen Ansprüche an meinen Körper hinein: Wenn ich krank bin, soll er möglichst schnell wieder funktionieren und generell am besten nicht weiter auffallen. Also möglichst nicht abweichen von meiner idealen Idee vom Gesundsein. Aber diese Aufteilung von gesund und krank ist doch eine sehr künstliche. Und sie kann sehr fatal sein, nämlich wenn der Anspruch ans Gesundsein zu einer Art Besessenheit wird, ein ständiges Tracking des Körperzustands mit dem Ziel, den gesündesten Körper zu haben, der möglich ist. Als gäbe es so eine klare Trennung zwischen krank und gesund. Und als wäre Gesundsein nur die Abwesenheit von Krankheit.

Da ist dann auch der Gedanke nicht weit, dass wir selbst Schuld sind, wenn wir krank werden. Wenn wir krank sind, haben wir nicht gut auf uns geachtet, so die Idee. Dann haben wir wohl zu viel Zucker, Junk Food, Alkohol oder sonstige vermeintlich bösen Dinge konsumiert oder haben zu viel gearbeitet. Diese Unterteilung in guten und schlechten Lebensstil (und Ernährungsstil) ist ja durchaus verbreitet, und ehrlich gesagt, ich kann damit nicht viel anfangen. Es gibt keine guten und schlechten Lebensmittel und es gibt auch keinen per se schlechten Lebensstil, der für alle Menschen gleichermaßen gilt. Und trotzdem habe ich meine Mühe, mir solche Bewertungen fernzuhalten. Wie könnte es auch anders sein? Wir sind doch ständig davon umgeben, uns selbst zu optimieren, „besser“ zu essen, „besser“ Sport zu machen, „besser“ Arbeit und Privatleben auszubalancieren, auf der Suche nach dem total durchoptimierten Lebensstil. Und das dann auch noch im Kapitalismus. So ein Bullshit.

Alles bleibt anders

Auch wenn es mir gerade wegen Krankheiten nicht gut geht, fände ich es gut, wenn Menschen nicht anders mit mir umgehen als sonst. Ich möchte trotzdem gefragt werden, ob ich zu einer Veranstaltung mitkomme. Wenn ich nicht mit kann, sage ich nein. Das ist angenehmer, als gar nicht erst gefragt zu werden. Und ich mag trotzdem Telegram Nachrichten von Partys geschickt bekommen, auch wenn ich selbst nicht mit dabei sein kann. Ich mag nicht, wenn Menschen von vornherein annehmen, ich kann gerade irgendwas nicht, ohne dass sie mit mir drüber gesprochen hätten. Auch wenn es mir schlecht geht, möchte ich gern selbst über mich entscheiden.

Akute Krankheitsphasen sind zwar irgendwie Ausnahmezustand – ich kann weniger coole Dinge tun als sonst, bin öfter müde, mehr genervt, sarkastischer (geht das?), ungeduldiger und so weiter. Trotzdem will ich mein Leben dann nicht komplett auf Pause stellen. Dafür sind diese akuten Phasen zu häufig. Ja, ich muss dann mehr Termine und Dinge aussortieren und kann weniger als sonst, aber viele Dinge gehen trotzdem.

Und wenn ich zu irgendwelchen Veranstaltungen nicht kommen kann, genügt für mich als Reaktion: „Ach schade, du wirst uns fehlen. Aber dann beim nächsten Mal wieder.“ Mehr müssen wir gar nicht drüber reden. Es ist halt wie es ist. Ich gucke, wo meine Grenzen sind, und habe vermutlich trotzdem ein schlechtes Gewissen weil ich immer denke, dass ich andere Menschen hängen lasse, und wie immer grüble ich trotzdem zu viel über das Warum und den Sinn von chronischen Krankheiten nach. Aber so ist es halt in meinem Kopf.

( CC-by-nc-nd sam chills, 2017)

[transnonbinarysupport]

Shoutout to every nonbinary person that also identifies with the label trans! You can call yourself trans if you find it fits you for any reason. Your labels are for you to dictate. 💜

[theredpelican]

we’re literally floating on a tiny planet in fucking space why are we surrounded by hatred and misery. why can’t everyone just calm the fuck down and lay on some grass. the sun is a GIANT BURNING ORB why does money exist. fuck everything

[tnerdbean]

[funkyqueers]

this is only relevant if your care about kurt cobain and masculinity sorry

Weiterlesen

[jollysnidge]

I keep thinking how much more powerful the Spiderman origin story would be if Peter Parker was an African American kid, whose Uncle Ben was shot by police while being arrested for a minor parking infraction. There is no formal investigation, and Peter decides to put himself on the line to prevent it happening again. He tackles the white crimes that go unpunished, punishes POC criminals fairly. He is the leveler, always fighting to be without bias, to be just. To protect people like his uncle. 

This not only mirrors so much of what’s happening in America, but feeds right into the complex relationship between Spiderman, the authorities and the media. 

Peter Parker is a brilliant student, awkward, a nerd, but is branded a thug, a gang member, a criminal, because of his appearance. The media latch on to that and misrepresent him totally.

The police, humilitated by the fact that he refuses to work with them and often punishes cops themselves for brutalizing innocent people, or guilty people who still deserve better treatment than they get, attempt to hunt him down.

[plintoon-reblogs]

I had to.

[mcufandomhatespeopleofcolor]

oh man. This is the shit.

[im-not-a-real-hero]

The “with great power comes great responsibility” line gets such a deeper meaning within this context.

[clowndotorg]

Not to mention a white nerdy boy with glasses is not the look of a social outcast or person of ridicule anymore.

[judyjetsonhookah]

One of the reasons Miles Morales is afraid of his identity being figured out is due to him being Afro-Latino and he’d be treated and looked at differently (both by law enforcement and citizens), but it would be just as amazing to see Peter in the same position.

But if anyone’s interested in a Spiderman who does struggle with that, check out Miles comics!

[boggletheowl]

I’ve been getting a lot of these lately, and I guess I just want you all to know what I think when I read them.

[deliciousanarchist]

i’d like to delete the humans are the dominant species part, but other than that, wow.

[fuckwarlock]

fun fact nonbinary ppl with boobs, nonbinary ppl who like their boobs, and nonbinary ppl who want boobs are cool and valid and just as nonbinary as ppl w flat chests and deserve to have a good time all the time

[fuckwarlock]

please reblog this its important

[iprayforangels-deactivated20220]

Non binary does not equal vaguely masculine

[dragonheartftherpays]

I did a very quick, sketchy comic because I was extremely inspired by this post. (Credit to @pinkdiamondprince for the original post.)

The entire analogy was just fantastic and so, so accurate, and I wanted to make a comic for it, even if it’s very sketchy because my attention span is nil.

[deliciousanarchist]

School's out Forever! – on Learning, the General Education System, and the Pressure to Do Well

When I think about public school, I remember being an anxious teenager, and how every year there was this very short time span in which I actually enjoyed school. It was always the last two weeks of summer vacation. Right then, before school even started, I was psyched! I would get my new school books (back in the 1990’s my parents had to buy them, which is something that changed in Germany a few years later), I got some new pens, and a new notebook, sometimes a new bag. I remember flicking through my new books happy and thrilled, imagining how I would learn all these new things, new vocabulary, about history, literature and geography. Every year I said to myself: this year will be better, it’s gonna be awesome!

Then the new school year would start. After a few weeks, or, sometimes even only days, I started to feel frantic and desperate. I couldn’t keep up with the subjects and topics, and I got distracted a lot. At school I couldn’t pay attention to the teachers’ lectures for long, however hard I tried, and soon I started to forget to do my homework. Being really shy and overawed, I never said a word in class unless someone forced me to. Good grades were beyond me—except in art—and I never did well in tests, either.

To forget / forgot / forgotten

My memory has never been the best. Yet, to me, this was what tests and exams were—and still are to this day: memorizing incoherent stuff, regurgitating it, then forgetting it again. But not being able to memorize stuff was only half of my problem. The content taught at school felt like it had nothing to do with me. What the teachers told us was just completely unrelatable. The subjects never found their way into my head. It was all so cryptic, it may as well have been a foreign language. Sometimes though there were fragments I could suddenly make sense of, and it felt like I was surfing on a wave, finally understanding something fundamentally–some math, an English story, a character in our history book. But as quickly as this wave had appeared, it vanished just as quickly, leaving me sitting on the beach clueless and lost.

Soon most of my grades were Ds (in Germany the grade 4), and every year it was uncertain again if I would make it to the next year. A few years later I finally had to repeat the 12th grade—the second-last school year there is (was) in Germany. Quite frankly, I had just gotten really tired, struggling all those years, always scraping along. In 13th grade it took all the strength I could gather to graduate. That time of my life, when I was about 18 years old, was quite troubled anyway as I had a major depression and I struggled with my sexuality, finally coming out as a lesbian back then. I would love to travel back in time to my former self and tell them about non-binary, because I’m sure that knowing this term could’ve saved me some hard times. Anyway, I just felt lost on so many levels. In school I spent most of the breaks between classes in the bathroom, just locking myself in a stall so I could hide from everything behind that door–the school, the teachers and my class mates. I really wanted to leave school, but I had no idea where I would go if I did.

Bigger, better, faster, more

In third grade, I did my first test that would be graded. It was math. Not being able to grasp the concept of tests (or maybe I got distracted again and didn’t listen when it was explained to us, I don’t know) I answered only two questions thinking I could do the rest later. I never got to finish this as the teacher of course collected all of our sheets to evaluate them. A few days later, when we got our tests back, I got an F. After the teacher, and also my parents, explained to me what was expected when doing a test at school, I got my next math test back with an A written on it. These two tests lead to having a C in math on my school year report which was the worst grade I got that year. I didn’t understand. After all, I liked math and was good at it too. How could one test affect my grade like that? Were grades just all about how well we did on a few tests? 

School and tests seemed to make no sense to me at all. On top of this, I never got physical education as competition was expect: to be better than the other team, better than another person. Even now, I don’t understand this concept. I’m not even talking about a political view here, I really don’t get it from the bottom of my heart and never will. Even back in Elementary School, I never undertook anything to win a match or to beat anyone for that matter. Instead I tried to have fun and to be helpful and supportive of everyone. I’d secretly (and sometimes not so secretly) cheer about every goal, whichever team scored. Needless to say that my class mates didn’t think highly of me in PE and would never pick me first when choosing teams. Not so needless to say, I always enjoyed doing sport and still do, as long I do it on my own terms.

College, and everything after

Only being able to learn something if I’m able to make sense of it in my own way followed me into my gainful employment too. I don’t seem to be able to do work that is pointless to me. I can’t sit around crunching numbers for a bank or designing a power point presentation for some car company. Nothing of this will stick in my brain. And I know it is a privilege even being able to choose a job that I can relate to on a personal level (though I have to pay for it with lower income, it is still my choice).

It was only in college that I realised I could actually be good, and successful, at learning. I just had to acknowledge a few things, and I could only confirm these insights when writing my PhD thesis about a decade later:

Public school genuinely does not make sense to me, and that’s okay as school is over for me anyway. And yay, I survived.

When learning something I have to approach the topic in a way that makes sense to me. This can be: watching a movie about it or making a movie about it, talking to other people about it to understand different views, switching the book I’m reading on the topic (something you could never do in public school btw), and even drawing the subject to make it graspable to me can help a lot.

It’s okay if I don’t want to be better than others, and it’s okay to not even understand why I should try in the first place.

When leaving school after graduation my English still sucked really badly. When at McDonald’s in England I could hardly order french fries. In 9th grade I got so desperate about my low English skills that I decided to memorize every single English vocabulary in my shortened (but still huge) English dictionary. Starting with the letter A. Unfortunately, I had to stop at the letter C. Wow, there are a lot of English words starting with a C. I was completely overwhelmed. I guess this wasn’t the best learning method after all…

In retrospective I assume that 80% of my English skills came from watching US-American TV shows in English back when I was in college. The other 20% probably came from listening to US-American Punk music as a teenager, as music lyrics are one of the few things I can actually memorize–then again, how helpful can it be for everyday life to be able to recite a Bad Religion song text?

Oh yea, cradle for a cat / woolf looks back / how many angels can you fit upon a match? / I want to know why Hemmingway cracked / sometimes truth is stranger than fiction / life is the crummiest book I ever read / there isn’t a hook, just a lot of cheap shots / pictures to shock and characters an amateur / would never dream up (Bad Religion, “Stranger than Fiction”)

( CC-by-nc-nd sam chills, 2016)