brightlotusmoon: (Asha)
So, my thoughts have been spinning merrily amidst what could be a spiraling episode of... Oh, fuck, probably everything at once. After I had a chat with three doctors about the consequences of stress-related memory loss, I quietly decided to start a private mindfulness therapy, which I have only been sharing with the psychologist, for advice, while I move forward in my own brain to stop my own brain from destroying my mindstate.

Tomorrow, I see my general physician and have her write a referral for the local hyperbaric oxygen therapy center. Although it's a bit premature, as they have yet to call me back about an initial consultation. While I was filling out their online New Patient form, I started wondering if they would even take someone like me, with two dozen illness. Even though cerebral palsy is the cornerstone. I just feel so excited about it. That's a good thing. I can still most of my emotion things.

What I find beautiful and fascinating about my private therapy protocol is that almost nobody believes me. I have been stuck in something insane since 2010. Why would they believe I would "get better" now, so many years later after therapy and medications and meditative exercises? Then again, none of them have been in long term therapy or medication. It really does take many years to spur a change this massive. Hence the secret protocol, which includes a possible medication update and potential oxygen therapy.

I don't expect anyone to believe me. I don't expect anyone to believe in my desire to change with this therapy protocol. How could they? Why would they? I am the same as I was when symptoms started. But I don't want their belief. I don't really want support if there is no actual active knowledge. How can you say "Hey, I've been there, I get it, fist bump in solidarity" unless you really have gone through a similar structure of treatment repeatedly for a grab bag of illnesses that mindfuck you for no reason?
Actual legitimate question, BTW.
If you're also a parent of someone with interconnected psychiatric and neurological disorders, I would love input, because when I try to explain these things to my mom who only has hereditary ADHD controlled via lifestyle, my emotion-brain starts shutting down so my technical-brain can word at her, and I know she wants less science and more human. I'm trying. I just cannot get past that very protective mental guardian who shields emotion-Joanna from Outside. And oh, as much as I love Serena, she feels it is easier and gentler to let me sleep while she and Koan the calico kitten organize and compartmentalize all the Me. Ananta works hard enough balancing out all the neuroweird that Alicia in my private epileptic Wonderland can't reach. I haven't had much success in psychically merging with Asha. We are working out my dissociative and depersonalization episodes first.

I will do this. It will happen. Steps have been severely taken. Hard to talk. But if you think you get it, I would love a discussion via Private Message. I am willing to reveal bits and pieces of my Rebuild Joanna Brain Project to acquire tips and advice from those who get it.

Now, see, I view many people as family beyond my blood family - who shall remain the besy family I would want. Various people in my social circle - friends plus family - have always stood with me. I will always need and want that. But for those who are truly normal and looking at me with confusion, puzzlement, exasperation, fear, anger... and the type of condesencing that means pats on the head, chuckling, and "I love you sweetie. Of course you'll change." "You do nothing. You never help. You are too self absorbed, you don't think, you claim memory loss. It is all right, dear. We are used to hit. Just finish writing." Followed by another hair tousle. I'm used to it. It's routine because I am me.
I am not out to prove them wrong, not entirely. I am out to prove to myself that my neuroplasticity really might eradicate the worst of the annoying symptoms.
Maybe this whole autistic ramble came from my hope and excitement over this slow gentle therapeutic process. If loved ones want me to speed it up, I can turn away for a while to meditate.

All I know is that my own husband has been putting up with me forever, and that says something huge.

Love you, LJ family.
brightlotusmoon: (Default)
I'm not sure if I should be upset, worried, or relieved that I still can't figure out exactly what kind of insane my antagonist, Jeremy, is. Psychotic, yes. Schizoaffective, most likely yes. Psychopathic, possibly. Borderline, most likely yes. Writing him is fascinating. He really thinks he's doing it right. It makes me want to absorb the DSM-V, which I think won't be out until 2013.

In this latest scene, he's got Dana imprisoned in an abandoned mental institution, and he's having a conversation with the cosmic entity that lives in his head, as well as with the unconscious main protagonist. Really, all he wants is to start over. Fix everything. The world is broken. Why can't he be allowed to fix it? All he would have to do is destroy everything in existence and pull another reality over into its place. Maybe he could be a leader.

I am obsessing over one thing in particular: Making sure that this book does not feature any Rape As Plot Device scenes. There are a few scenes that call for... telepathic violation, I guess. I will need someone to beta read. I also want to make sure the story is not misogynist, that the female characters don't hang on the strength of their sex or gender, that they hang on the strength of their humanity.
I've had conversations with people who had asked, "Well, maybe near the end, the male antagonist can rape the female protagonist and conceive a child, and that could be a plot point for another book." And my brain would begin shrieking and raging and no no no no fucking no oh dear gods no. No rape. No pregnancy. No Magical Child plot point. I refuse. Is this a common thing? Subjecting the female to absolute violation or forced motherhood because it might fit the story? What is this, a soap opera?

I don't want my characters to carry their strengths on the backs of gender stereotypes. My male protagonists do feel protective of my female protagonists, and absolutely vice versa. None of this Me Man Me Strong and Me Woman Me Need Protecting crap. They're best friends. They look out for each other. Also they have psychic powers and can easily toss cars around and stuff. That makes me wonder: If all humans were telekinetic to certain degrees, what would happen to physical gender stereotypes? I don't understand why there even has to be a damn gender divide. We have working bodies. It's not our sexes or genders that determine which house chores we should do. In the book, all my protagonists do all the chores and there is none of this "Well, you're the man/woman, you should do this." Not even for opening pickle jars. There's telekinesis for that.

The problem with my striving to shatter gender stereotypes through my writing, though, is that it will sneak in when I'm not paying attention, because cultural and societal influences run deep, despite my personal upbringing. My parents taught me to be a human, a person, not necessarily a woman for the sake of womanhood. We can say, "Men are like this and women are like that" all we want, but we know that's not true. My husband cleans the house and washes dishes and irons clothes and buys groceries and does all these things that "should be woman's work" and sometimes he gets teased. Why? It's bullshit. We're PEOPLE. We are not our genders. I do not have the physical strength, dexterity, or stamina to perform certain tasks. My husband does. So I ask him. Hey honey, can you carry this bucket of cat litter into the house? Can you move this desk? And he does, because he can. If I could, I would. But so many people out there might look at me and think, Oh, isn't she so tiny and cute? She needs to be protected. That's great, thanks, but I can take care of myself.

Also, why can't men wear eye makeup and lip gloss? Who says they can't? (This has nothing to do with my characters.)

I'm going to stop rambling now. I need to write.

Also, if I said anything offensive in any way, please tell me so I can learn and grow.
brightlotusmoon: (Default)
I would like a show of hands, both women and men:

How many husbands/boyfriends/fiances actually do real housework, like cooking dinner, washing dishes, doing laundry, vacuuming, mopping floors, cleaning bathrooms, etc?

Because mine sure does. Willingly. Really. In fact, he is a friggin' gourmet. He was accepted into the Culinary Institute of the Arts (but couldn't afford to go even with a huge scholarship). He cleans house better than I do, bitches.

There seems to be this myth going around that men don't know how to do these things, and leave it all up the women.

In fact, let me quote from a parenting magazine I leafed through in the doctor's waiting room on Friday: "Unicorns. Dragons. Bigfoot. A husband who, on any given Monday, cooks dinner and does the dishes, then puts the kids to bed while you read a magazine and relax.
If your first thought was 'No such husband exists,' you're correct. Neither do unicorns, dragons, or Bigfoot. They're myths, and obvious ones at that."

When I read that, I actually got angry. Extreme stereotyping sucks. Not all men watch football, either. Mine watches NASCAR.


brightlotusmoon: (Default)

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