• Not Ashamed: Sexual Assault

    Posted on by amber Comment

    If you haven’t already, please read the introduction post. That will give you context for this page.

    (Trigger warning: sexual violence)

    Before I say the things that keep crowding my brain, causing me to write a topic out of order again (and there’s a second topic close behind, so I guarantee we’ll continue to be out of order), there are a few things I wanted to make clear.

    1. In my list of labels, I called this “victimised by a sexual predator.” I chose that phrase very carefully to put the blame where it belongs and to make it clear that I don’t think of myself, in general, as a victim. Yes, in this context, I was the victim of the act, but I am not a victim. I’m a strong, capable person who has had some crap things happen to them.
    2. I won’t be describing anything about what happened. And, no matter who you are, I’m not interested in talking about it. I’ve gotten professional help. I’m okay. There’s no possible positive outcome for me to talking about it. (And, no, adults and friends who care about me, you carry no blame and you couldn’t have done anything. Please, don’t beat yourself up, don’t wonder, don’t ask.)
    3. Terms! Let’s make sure those are definite. I’m just going to paste some definitions here. I’m grabbing them from Wikipedia, because, in this case, they’re a good starting point.
      1. Sexual assault is any involuntary sexual act in which a person is coerced or physically forced to engage against their will, or any non-consensual sexual touching of a person. Sexual assault is a form of sexual violence, and it includes rape (such as forced vaginal, anal or oral penetration or drug facilitated sexual assault), groping, forced kissing, child sexual abuse, or the torture of the person in a sexual manner.
      2. Sexual violence is any sexual act or attempt to obtain a sexual act by violence or coercion, unwanted sexual comments or advances, acts to traffic a person or acts directed against a person’s sexuality, regardless of the relationship to the victim. It occurs in times of peace and armed conflict situations, is widespread and is considered to be one of the most traumatic, pervasive, and most common human rights violations.

    Even though what happened to me falls under the narrower umbrella of sexual assault, what I’m going to say here is applicable, in my opinion, to all sexual violence.

    I have, more than once, been in a room with people who quietly and timidly “confessed” they’d been the victim of sexual violence. I’ve seen them carry shame (and I carried it for a while for my own case) that wasn’t theirs to carry. I’ve seen how the shame and the unaddressed trauma from what happened has had long-reaching, negative impacts for years and years. I’ve seen how that shame is so heavy that those who speak up are considered brave.

    And, yes, if you “confess” that you’ve been a victim, that is brave. But! “Confess” carries some connotations that only deepen the sense that you have a reason to carry shame. And I hate that for you. I don’t want you to carry shame, because, and this is important, that shame belongs to the person(s) who victimised you. And, that’s the main thing I want to communicate here. (That and how great it was for me to get help. Thanks to the help, I feel no shame. Which is why, for me, this isn’t an act of bravery. I’m stating something about me and I am not ashamed.)

    So, please let me make this very clear:

    Whether you are male or female, it was not your fault. (Seriously, I have had too many male friends who were just wrecked by having been the object of sexual violence. It might be rarer to happen to a male, but it’s just as legitimate and no more their fault when it does.)

    Whether they were male or female, it was not your fault. (Yes, even if you are a male and the person who took the actions was a female. Or if you’re a female and another female pressed you, not just some big male. It is still not your fault.)

    Whether you were sober or under the influence of drink or drugs, it was not your fault.

    No matter what you were wearing, it was not your fault.

    No matter if you’d previously been sexually involved with them, they are wrong and it was not your fault.

    If you said “no” initially and were then pressured into letting things happen, it was not your fault. (Or if you were too scared to say “no” and were just frozen and silent when it happened.)

    If you were wearing nothing and walking through a dark alley in the “wrong” neighbourhood, whilst not the wisest choice, it’s still not your fault. Someone else still chose to do what they did and they bear the blame.

    You don’t have to have had a certain amount of things happen or have a story that seems as harrowing as someone else’s story to justify how horrible you feel. (For instance, if you got molested, your feelings are no less legitimate than those of someone who got raped. If it happened once, your feelings are no less legitimate than someone to whom things have happened more than once.)

    If, as happens in trauma, your brain can’t seem to keep the story straight but something happened, you are still, legitimately a victim.

    If you did not willingly and happily consent, it wasn’t okay. It isn’t your fault. The shame is not yours. They are the ones who should feel shame. And you don’t have to let them get away with it, you don’t have to be quiet.

    But, if you don’t feel safe speaking up, it’s still their fault. I’m not under any delusion that speaking up is easy to do. I’d just like to ask you to at least find some kind of safe stranger or anonymous help line to talk to…You don’t have to keep feeling horrible. I don’t want you, no matter who you are—even if you’re someone who’s been horrible to me, to carry these feelings and this shame. This isn’t your shame. This is their shame. And it’s also the sort of quiet shame that creeps up on us because of the way things about sexual violence are communicated in most cultures.

    Here’s a nice little chart I got from the Huffington Post to help you decide whether your experience was “valid.”

    And if you’re reading this and you think that any sort of non-consensual sexual activity is okay…YOU ARE WRONG. If the person you want said, “no,” that means NO. It doesn’t mean “please pressure me” or “please get me drunk” or “please wait until I’m passed out.” If you are following someone around, if you are shouting out at women on the street, if you are doing anything for which the object of your attention has expressed anything but enthusiastic consent…YOU ARE WRONG.

    If your friends do those things and you don’t call them out (unless you’re afraid of physical harm, in which case…why are you friends?), you are allowing rape culture to continue. Studies have shown that this lets your friends (or co-workers or drunk bloke beside you at the bar) think that you feel and act like them, which causes them to believe it’s acceptable. So, as in other spheres, your silence is like consent.

    It’s not a comfortable or pleasant topic. Even those committing these wrong acts don’t like to talk about this topic because, unless their moral compass is entirely non-existent, something in them knows they’re doing wrong…which causes them to get uncomfortable and defensive and lash out.

    And if you’re thinking, Yes, Amber, everyone knows this, well…clearly not everyone knows it and not everyone is taking action on it, are they? Or we wouldn’t have to keep making posts, having conversations, and so forth. Listen, I’ll make you a promise: if this sort of horrible thing stops, I’ll not write about it again (except maybe from an historical perspective to talk about how we accomplished such a great thing).

    Honestly, I’d be happy to write that historical perspective. Until I can, I hope all those who’ve been victimised will get the sort of help that lets them feel as healed as I do. Stay safe, and try to leave the shame where it belongs.

    Cross-posted to the Not Ashamed section of my site (so that it’s all tidy)


    📂This entry was posted in not ashamed

  • Not Ashamed: Depression (Not Physiologically Caused)

    Posted on by amber Comment

    If you haven’t already, please read the introduction post. That will give you context for this page.

    (Trigger warning: depression, self harm, suicide)

    Look at me, actually writing a topic in the posted order! I’m guessing you oughtn’t get too comfy with that. But let’s appreciate it whilst it happens.

    Today, I’m going to talk a bit about when I was depressed for a long while and it wasn’t just the bipolar thing. I know that definitions and terms change and that I’m not a qualified mental health professional, so I’m leery of using actual terms. And, when I was seeing the therapist who helped, my mind state was enough a mess that I didn’t really file away whatever term she used at the time.

    Basically, even before the bipolar hit me (before there were any mania symptoms), the depression hit and hit hard. And I’d probably have been less exhausted for a great deal of my life if I’d not actually been trying to hide that I wasn’t okay. Fortunately, someone who saw through me was also able to get me some help.

    The great thing about this other kind of depression I was dealing with (and that has probably happened a time or two since…like when my mum died or when certain major relationships ended) is that, thus far, I’ve been able to work through it. If you read my entry on being bipolar, you get some sense of what depression feels like for me. Just double it…except that, really, it felt more like every day was at my worst times ten.

    I felt like I could barely move, it was so heavy. And this was definitely my worst self-harm period. Every day, I felt driven to that. Plus, hey, regular thoughts about suicide. (I’ll cover self-harming and suicidal in other entries.) That was if I could keep myself awake or think through the sobbing. When I think of my younger self, of me during that time, I just want to let her curl up in my arms and try to absorb some of that depression.

    The best thing I did was get professional help. I’m eternally grateful to the friends who tried to help, especially the ones who were life-saving. But it wasn’t quite enough. Which is why I’m a vocal supporter of seeing a professional. (I got lucky with my first one; however, I have moved since and have also had someone who wasn’t a good fit, so I’m also a vocal supporter of finding one who works for you.)

    We worked together to root out non-physiological causes and amplifiers of the depression. We talked about ways I could make changes and take steps to fix what could be fixed. We spent loads of time on self-esteem issues (which, hey, another future topic or two). And I made some choices.

    This next bit is about some realisations and a decision that worked for me. I’m not saying this is the right answer for everyone…but, y’know, if you’re running out of ideas….

    One day, I remember driving around and wondering who I was without my depression. I wondered if I would even like non-depressed Amber. I wondered if friends would still like her. I wondered if the social scene I was kind of part of would still consider me a legitimate member. I was a little afraid. I realised that my depression was my default state. That this was how I knew myself. That this was the lens through which I had seen the world for a very long time. That this was a large part of how I would describe Who I Was if giving an honest answer. That, in a twisted way, depression was so familiar that it was like a warm (smothering, limiting, oppressive) security blanket. I realised that, in some way, I might actually be choosing to hold onto it for all those reasons. So I asked myself if I actually enjoyed the admittedly horrible feeling of the depression. I asked if I really wanted friends or a social group who would prefer me to feel that way. I asked myself whether I might not prefer the (hopefully) less-distorted view of myself and my world that would come with not being depressed. I asked myself whether I weren’t ready to find other parts of who I was and give them a chance to thrive. And then I pulled off the road into somewhere abandoned so that I could sob as I made a choice. I decided that, however much I might fear the unknown, I didn’t want to hurt like that any longer. I chose to stop clinging to the depression and gave myself permission to heal.

    Now, before one of you obnoxious people who thinks people choose depression uses this as anecdotal evidence…read the rest. This is just as important. (And you are wrong and shouldn’t ever suggest people just choose not to be depressed. Seriously.)

    After that incident, I did not magically become Not Depressed. I was no longer holding myself back, but I still had to do all the work with my therapist to work through and conquer the depression. I was just not holding myself back any longer. Except when I was, because this was big and scary and the work was hard and took time, and that, in itself, can be depressing. But I still feel like that moment with myself was an important part of my road out of that type of depression.

    On the other side…it felt so much lighter. It was amazing!

    And then I slipped a little when I realised I wasn’t entirely free of depression (oh, hi, bipolar!) and I started to beat myself up and to get depressed that I was depressed. Fortunately, a little help realising that there are some things that I can’t totally control and that the bipolar issue didn’t invalidate all the hard work I’d done to work through the other stuff got me back to my new normal.

    And when other things have happened that have set off depressions, I’m so glad for the work done with a professional. I now have tools and ideas to help work my way through. I’ve also seen how each depression is unique, so that’s helped me not be the sort of prat who assumes that my experience of depression applies to everyone’s experience. I try never to force my tools and solutions on others, because that can make it worse.

    As with my physiologically caused depressions, this stuff isn’t always rational. Even if you can point to the event or thing that caused it, you can’t always pin down why that’s led to me randomly crying in the middle of a nice day.

    I try to figure it out, just in case, but:

    1. You are probably safer not trying to push me to figure it out or to tell you why. Unless you are a mental health professional whom I’m paying to do that.
    2. If I don’t figure it out, I don’t stress. I know this is a thing that happens and I try to be compassionate to myself as I would others. No need making it feel worse by judging myself for not knowing why.

    If you’re struggling with a depression, if it’s sticking around…whether or not you know the cause, I hope you’ll reach out and find some help. If you’re getting help but afraid of suddenly losing this big piece of you (cos, let’s be honest, when you have depression, it is the biggest piece of your life and feels like you are mainly depression with a few other human characteristics thrown in), I promise you that you will be okay (you will be better than you are now) without it and that you have plenty of other parts that will be able to shine if you give them a chance.

    Also, just so we’re clear, I’m always a little depressed (except when the deep anger of mania has me). So I’ll never judge you if you’re depressed. I’ll just hope that, like me, you find a way to carry a little less of that load someday.

    xx

    (If you’d like someone else’s take on depression—something with more pictures and swearing and chances to laugh but still pretty accurate to my own experience, I really adore the way that Allie of Hyperbole and a Half does it. Read her Adventures in Depression and Depression Part Two. I’ve heard people who didn’t understand depression before say these helped them feel they kind of got it.)

    Cross-posted to the Not Ashamed section of my site (so that it’s all tidy)


    📂This entry was posted in artist's life history not ashamed

  • Not Ashamed: Pro-Choice and Pro-Life

    Posted on by amber 2 Comments

    If you haven’t already, please read the introduction post. That will give you context for this page.

    I know that, last week, I said I’d be back to writing in the listed order. But if you’re not paying me to go in order and my brain has Things to Say Now, I’m just going to go with that…

    In the sincerest and least baggage-having way, I consider myself both pro-choice and pro-life.

    I feel like there are a couple things I want to say right up front, before I get to discussing how this particular topic applies to me.

    1. If you’re pro-choice and already disgusted with me because I say I’m that and pro-life, do me a favour and read on. Because…
    2. If you’re “pro-life,” I’m warning you right now that you’re probably going to be mad at me in just a moment. I know I won’t change your stance, so feel free to go read something else instead. (That includes the family and friends I know disagree…I love you and there’s little for you to gain now that #1 up there has already made you Very Disappointed in me.)

    In fact, let’s do what we did last time and define terms. Pretty sure that will clear this all up, describe how it applies to me, and piss off those I suspect will hate me any moment now.

    Pro-choice: I am in favour of women having the option to choose an abortion. In fact, I am in favour of them being able to make that choice without the man who impregnated them consenting or without the doctor’s morals being consulted. (Yes, I’ve read/heard the arguments against and I still feel this way. If you think that this is an unstudied/uninformed opinion or one driven by popular opinion, you clearly don’t know me or have forgotten what you know of me.)

    Pro-life: I am in favour of human life and have very few circumstances in which I would take advantage of the option to have an abortion. But! I believe that most people who claim to be pro-life are more accurately labelled “anti-abortion.” Because, putting aside the baggage and the connotations it’s picked up, “pro-life” means being in favour of and supporting human life. Not just trying to discourage abortions. No, if you are actually pro-life, you need to advocate for a good life for that fetus even after it’s born. Even if it’s not a white human, a western human, a straight or cis human, a rich human, a fully able-bodied human, or whatever other traits you consider Right for humans.

    To be truly pro-life, I think you’ve got to be a little less enthusiastic about the death penalty, even if your knee-jerk reaction to horrible crimes is that they deserve to suffer.

    I think you’ve got to be in favour of prisons/criminal systems that support reform and healing, rather than humiliation and increasing the brokenness of those who’ve made bad choices.

    I think you’ve got to be in favour of social programs that support the physical, mental, and emotional well-being of those people you were so adamant must be born.

    And I think you’ve got to do that without exceptions for people who don’t share your skin colour, your social class, your sexual orientation, your biological sex, your gender, your politics, and so forth.

    I think you’ve also got to acknowledge that the woman carrying that baby is a human life. A woman who, with no exceptions, you have decided must carry the baby to term. You’ve decided this with no knowledge of her situation. You’ve decided to forfeit any thought of her life because, like everyone I’ve met in the anti-abortion crowd (and maybe there are exceptions, but I’ve never met or heard from them), her life ceased to be the one you were actively and actually in favour of the instant she was born. (Before you deny it, look at your attitudes towards social programs that support those with needs, look at your fervour for death and war, look at your hatred for those who aren’t straight, white, middle-class or richer men and for those with different spiritual and political beliefs…)

    I’m not arguing, mind you, for the morality of any woman’s specific decision. I’m not in a position to do that. Right now, I’m just telling you why I don’t think most people who call themselves “pro-life” are actually that. And I’m letting you know, then, what I mean when I say that I am pro-life.

    I am in favour of a quality life for all humans, even the ones unlike me. Even the ones who have hurt me or made horrible decisions. And, aside from some moments of knee-jerk rage, I don’t look at another life and hope that it is wretched or that it is ended. I want it saved; I want it bettered.

    So, please stop using an incorrect label for yourselves, you so-called “pro-life” (but actually “anti-abortion”) crowd. And also stop assuming that pro-choice means I’m out actively campaigning for every pregnant woman to get an abortion. I’m in favour of people having a choice. If I were in favour of all babies being aborted, I’d use another term.

    Are there circumstances where I definitely would have or would heartily support someone choosing abortion? There are (including, but not limited to, any situation where the sex wasn’t consensual). And I don’t believe it’s my place to make the choice for someone else or even to judge them if they make the choice for reasons that wouldn’t cause me to make that choice.

    Nor do I believe that laws that put the job of making that moral judgement in the hands of doctors are a good idea. We already have anecdotal proof that there are doctors whose personal morality will lead them to deny abortions to victims of rape or to those whose lives are endangered by carrying a baby to term. There are laws made by men who think that you can get pregnant by swallowing sperm (or at least ask questions that make it sound like they believe the throat is a thoroughfare to the uterus…). This doesn’t exactly make me feel like these laws are made or administered by people who are in a good position to make the right choice for me or any other woman.

    I am pro-choice.

    And, in a more genuine way than it has come to be used, I am pro-life.

    And, whilst I am a bit nervous to be vocal about this based on what I know possible repercussions of being vocal are, I am not ashamed.

    Cross-posted to the Not Ashamed section of my site (so that it’s all tidy)


    📂This entry was posted in not ashamed

  • Not Ashamed: Genderfluid

    Posted on by amber Comment

    If you haven’t already, please read the introduction post. That will give you context for this page.

    I’m doing this post out of order, in spite my intentions to just work through the list from top to bottom, because this was the post that circled around and around in my head whilst I considered doing this series.

    First, like a good philosophy student, I want to define terms. I’m just going to copy and paste what the World Health Organization says:

    “Sex” refers to the biological and physiological characteristics that define men and women.

    “Gender” refers to the socially constructed roles, behaviours, activities, and attributes that a given society considers appropriate for men and women.

    Genderbread Person shows you what different terms mean

    And, here’s the GenderWiki definition of gender fluid, just in case you’re too lazy to look:

    Someone who is gender fluid switches between genders, which may include male, female, neutrois, third gender, or any other genderqueer identity. They can also switch to have combinations at the same time, such as male and female, or other mixes, such as male, neutrois, and a third gender. They can combine varying amounts of gender identities; three, four, or five, or many with which the individual identifies. They can also be every gender and combination at once, a term known as polygender (other terms for which may include multigender or pangender, which may be considered derogatory by some).

    But some of you are here not for a consolidation of definitions; you want to read what this means to me. Especially if you already looked up genderfluid (look, I’ve seen it with and without the space and I like it spelled this way) and realise that this is one of those things where you need to actually ask me what I mean if you want to know how it applies to me. Given the big role gender played in my life, even before I knew what gender was, I’m happy to help you understand.

    As a kid, obviously, the word “gender” didn’t mean anything to me, even though the concept impacted me. I knew I was a girl (look! girl bits!), but I also knew that I liked boy things as much as or more than girl things (something that will mean something else when we talk about my bisexuality…ha!). And I knew that this confused and bothered some people, and that it made friendships difficult. Girls thought I was weird for liking boy things; boys weren’t sure they believed I liked boy things because I also liked girl things. Ugh! That was a real pain for wee Amber.

    TipToAvoidGenderingBabies

    It also led to turmoil later. I went through years and years where I tried to strongly reject all girl things (not that I wanted to be a boy, but if I liked boy things more in general, I didn’t want girl things getting in the way of friendships…plus, my subconscious feminist hadn’t yet realised that this was doing me a disservice; she just knew that boys seemed to have a better deal in life and I wanted in on that…and then I tried to balance not wanting to hate being a girl with trying not to be “too much a girl” and had a whole different miserable experience). I hated colours purely on principle, I was distraught if someone accused me of being at all girl-like, I was ashamed of the things about my body that proved that I was a girl. But I never actually wanted to be a boy in a way that would lead me to change my body or be trans. I felt guilty when I liked things that I’d lumped in as girl things (someone bought me a relaxing spa facial that was ruined by feeling guilty the whole time). I even only wore makeup at one point (I wanted to wear it, but I felt I needed an excuse) because I’d grown up knowing and knowing of plenty of boys who did that (thank you, David Bowie). I wanted people to be romantically interested in me because of me, not because they wanted girly me or because they could picture me as a boy. On and on…what a mess it was in my head and my heart. I’ll spare you the numerous stories and situations and hope you can get a sense of what a non-fun time that was.

    Let’s fast-forward. Still before I’d even learned about gender in the context of the definitions I pasted in at the start of this, I had the great fortune of opportunities that let me gain some pretty solid self-esteem (my self-esteem is another future post or two). As part of that, I kind of laid off on the self-categorisation a bit and just accepted that I was me. That didn’t change what a pain it was to interact with other humans if gender mattered, of course. But then we can fast-forward a little more to when I learned that definition of gender I pasted in. In my world, this was huge. Because here is what it meant to me:

    Unlike my sex, which was a real thing that included definable and concrete elements like breasts (small, but existent…hello, girls!) and female genitals, gender wasn’t real in a way that I felt I had to honour or allow to constrain me. It was something that changed from culture to culture, from age of time to age of time. It was made up. It had no right to mean anything more to me than any other fiction. And it was a bloody shame that someone else’s fiction impacted my daily life. That it would (and does) impact it even if I reject it as a reality, because the rest of society accepts it.

    I started using genderfluid to describe this state of mine where, sometimes, I feel “girl” because I fit the gender stereotypes of Western culture that they consider the female gender…and sometimes I feel “boy” for the parallel male gender reasons…but, mostly, I just feel “Amber.” Which is to say that I rarely think of myself as male or female in a gender way, just in a sex way. And, when I do, I remind myself that I’m buying into a fiction that, in my opinion, has done more harm than good. And then, even if my feelings or actions or appearance don’t change, I’m back to feeling “Amber” and life is better.

    Whether or not I wear makeup (which anyone who pays attention knows I feel isn’t just for females) or skirts (ditto) or pink or etc (ditto and ditto), I’m Amber. And even things like “being very emotional” or “being too logical” that are ascribed to one sex or another by way of gender roles are things I’ve seen in both sexes (and have seen both in myself). Same story with behaviours (girls are backstabbing and boys are emotionally distant…okay, have really only seen the “emotionally distant” in myself, and even that rarely…but you get my point, right?). So, I reject that stuff as actually fundamentally tied to any person just because of the genitals with which they were born. And I certainly reject it as ways to categorise myself, because I don’t fit a box and I don’t worry about fitting a box.

    thereisnogenderbox

    Here’s a short FAQ:

    Q. What’s my gender?
    A. Amber

    Q. What gender pronouns do I prefer?
    A. I don’t have a preference. As long as you aren’t trying to be insulting (cos I don’t ever prefer to be insulted), you can use female, male, or gender-neutral pronouns. I’ve happily responded to all.

    Q. Why genderfluid and not agender?
    A. Because I read the definitions and see overlap and see how both could apply, but genderfluid just feels right. And since it’s all made up anyway, I’m going to go with my feelings on this.

    Q. Do I ever cross-dress?
    A. As someone who’s female sexed, I have a lot more room to manoeuvre clothing/appearance in this society. Unless I stuffed my pants with something to make it look like I have boy parts, I can wear trousers or skirts in all sorts of styles and people likely wouldn’t assume I was dressing to fit a gender. (And I’ve only stuffed my trousers as part of a Halloween costume. Never really found myself wanting to be physiologically male…except during that day or two a month when my female parts are trying to kill me…ha!)

    Q. Is it okay if I, the reader, feel like I have a gender and want to claim a gender, request specific pronouns?
    A. Yes! I have come to where I am because this is the healthiest place for me (something I learned through both study and experimentation). If you have found another place that is your healthiest, rock that place!

    Q. Is it okay that I, the reader, think of you as female?
    A. Sure. I have the genitals that classify me as female. However, I’d appreciate you stopping short of assuming that my physical femaleness tells you anything more about me than that. It doesn’t tell you my personality, my aesthetic, my capabilities, etc. You proceed at your own risk if you try to gender me (instead of just sexing me). (And everyone pause whilst the perpetual adolescent part of me has a laugh at the ways you can interpret that last sentence.)

    We should be back to posts that follow the order of my original list next week. Thanks for being observant and noticing this out-of-order post. I’m going to go empty the rubbish, cook some dinner, and read scifi. These are all things easily encompassed in the Amber gender.

    Cross-posted to the Not Ashamed section of my site (so that it’s all tidy)


    📂This entry was posted in artist's life Bowie history not ashamed

  • Not Ashamed: Bipolar

    Posted on by amber Comment

    If you haven’t already, please read the introduction post. That will give you context for this page.

    (Trigger warning: depression, mania)

    I think one thing that comes up when I think about a number of the labels you could apply to me is that this is my experience; I don’t know any other and so I can’t talk about things with any real understanding of how it feels not to be this. I can only look at the descriptions of what it is to be typical or of how others experience what I am and postulate from there.

    Here is what I think I want people to know when they learn that I’m bipolar:

    1. It’s okay. I’m lucky. I seem to have made it through the worst (15-19 years old were…so bad…every. single. day.) and seem to have basically stabilised at what, to me, seems like a manageable place.
    2. If I get enough sleep, enough alone time, enough non-stressed time; if I eat what my body needs and move it (you might call it “exercise,” but that’s got connotations I don’t want to cling to) the way it wants; if I don’t feel ashamed for what happens, I can manage this without medication.
      Important conclusion: People who give me rubbish about trying to get adequate sleep are basically asking me to skip my medication. If you care about me, you won’t do that. (Editing has spared you a mini-rant on the importance of sleep here. You’re welcome!)
    3. This is not something that is cured or that is fixed by just trying to be happy. Any variation on “have you tried just not being depressed” will make me want to hit you. On a related note, yes, actually, listening to that music that isn’t happy does often do me more good than happy music (because happy music can sometimes just make me feel like it’s rubbing my face in how I’m failing at being happy). And, no, honestly, going out doesn’t usually help but generally hurts (watch for the introvert post to go up for more on that). In this day and age, if you actually think that a person can stop being depressed or that depression can be solved like sadness can, you are being purposefully ignorant. Please don’t assault me with that failing of your character.
    4. Most days, I feel depression all around my periphery. But it’s not usually at a level that I’d consider worrisome, so I’ve just made my peace and I live on. Because I can have good moments and enjoy things and be happy concurrently with that. (Depression isn’t the opposite of happiness, it just overwhelms happiness sometimes.) Even with the depression lurking, I am generally a sincerely positive person. Weird, right?
    5. I definitely have swings, deeper depressions and definite manic periods. And I’m really grateful that I can find ways to give myself solitude then. Solitude is part of how I manage and heal. And you don’t want to be around during one of those deeper times. (Plus, being around others during that just drains me more and adds ugliness to it.)
    6. My deep depressions can include crying jags, not getting out of bed due to it not feeling like there’s a point (yes, even though my logical little brain can tell me that’s not the case), not getting out of bed because I feel exhausted, feeling really cold, feeling heavy (physically, mentally, emotionally), losing interest in everything, despondent thoughts, and sometimes—when it’s at its worst—I get this sensation of my skin crawling and tingling with it.
    7. My manic swings…some people experience mania in ways that let them stay up all night getting things done. I’m not saying that those are okay, but there are times I envy that a little. Cos when I get manic, it’s anger and it’s muscles clenching. I might get stuck in a repetitive behaviour (once, at uni, I realised I’d been flicking a pen up my desk and letting it roll down to my fingers and repeating over and over all through a class and it took me a lot of concentration to stop so I could walk out when class was over). I lose dexterity as my muscles tense (try typing with curled up claws of fingers…no fun!), which only adds to the anger and frustration (but, hey, at least there’s a reason other than messed up body chemistry for that added anger and frustration). And, just like with depression, it would be a bad move to ask why I’m angry (or to try to push past my reply that it’s mania). Because it’s irrational and there’s no reason. I feel very lucky that, of the two, I experience depression more than mania.

    So, all that said, whilst I’m not thrilled to be bipolar, I’m okay. The level at which I have it and generally experience it, especially these days, is so much lower than others I know or even than I used to. And, as with many things in my life, I’ve learned to manage it. And given I typed up some of this whilst in the middle of a depression swing, that’s not just rose-coloured glasses in a lull. Heh.

    Cross-posted to the Not Ashamed section of my site (so that it’s all tidy)


    📂This entry was posted in artist's life not ashamed

  • Not Ashamed

    Posted on by amber Comment

    I’m starting a new series of posts that I’ll post here and then cross-post to another part of my site. If you want to check in on it without reading through the blog, you can go to its home page. Otherwise, on Sundays (starting tomorrow), I’ll post here and cross-post there.

    For those who want to comment, I’ve thought about it and decided that I’m going to be stricter on what sort of comments I allow on the Not Ashamed posts. I’m putting a big part of myself out there doing these posts, and I don’t feel I owe anyone additional information or explanations, nor do I have any interest in or obligation to defend myself to anyone. Thanks for your understanding!

    After making the post below on social media, it was interesting (and sometimes painful) to process how others reacted to it. It quickly became clear to me that each of us assumes a whole lot of things based on a label, a word or two, and that what we assume doesn’t necessarily overlap with what others assume or with the truth of the person to whom the label is applied. For the last few months, I’ve been thinking about creating this section of my site…A chance to spell out a little about each of the labels. Because who I am can’t be boiled down to a label or even a set of labels, and some labels need more than our culture’s new norm of 140 characters to explain.

    In spite of being a very private person in many ways, I decided to make this series of posts on my public site because I hope that others might be able to feel a little less alone in some things and/or might be able to let go of their own shame (which feels incredible). Plus, if you’re press, you can now skip asking me the same tedious questions about this and get to really interesting stuff 😉

    The posts, which I hope to make each Sunday (though Life might happen and make things early or late by a day or two), won’t all parallel each other in construction or content. But, this way, if you’re hung up on labels about me, you’ll at least have a chance to hate (or adore) me for the right reasons.

    Original post (unedited):

    I am about to list some things about me. Some are about me now; some are about past me.

    Please don’t comment unless you’ve read this whole post. 🙂

    Some of you will think some of these are scandalous or horrible, but see no problem with others.
    Others of you will have the same reactions but to different words.

    I am posting these because (and this is the point) I AM NOT ASHAMED OF WHO I AM OR HAVE BEEN. And that is awesome! 😀

    Please do not comment to tell me I am brave to post these things. I am not braved; I am unashamed. 🙂

    Please do not comment to tell me it’s okay that I am one or more of these things. You don’t need to tell me that; I am unashamed. 😉

    Please don’t post to tell me I ought to be ashamed. I will just delete your comment. I am unashamed. I did not arrive here, in many cases, without much examination/pondering/prayer.

    Please don’t post to argue politics/religion/beliefs with me. I’m not interested. I will delete such comments (or comments that bash any of what I’ve listed). I have probably done you that same courtesy when you’ve made posts that are the opposite of my current politics/religion/etc.

    I’m posting this because I have had a number of situations lately where people have comforted me about some trait when I didn’t need comfort, and I know the intentions are good, but it starts to feel like something negative.

    This is not aimed at any one person. If you choose to assume this is a lie, you do both me and you a disservice 🙂

    Please don’t post apologies. I have just been assuming you meant well 🙂

    For future reference, unless you can hear me speaking and my tone is clearly despondent or I straight-forwardly express concern, please feel free to assume that I am unashamed and okay 🙂

    (See the smilies up there? That means this is not an angry post. Please don’t take it as such.)

    Please don’t assume you have to like everything about me to generally like me, love me, be my friend, be my family. You don’t. Nobody likes literally everything about any other person.

    Please don’t assume I judge you if you are some of these things and are ashamed. Shame is a personal thing. Just as I’ll appreciate you not projecting your shame onto me, I won’t think ill of you if you carry shame of your own.

    Also, I’m not endorsing everything on this list or saying that it’s awesome to be this or that others should try it. Some, sure. Others, nope. And many…they just are what they are and there’s no judgement.

    Every one of them is something that someone has, in one way or another, expressed that I should be ashamed of.

    (Also, if you are the kind of person who reads lists like these and finds them reasons to judge my parents, friends, teachers…unfriend me. I’m very, very serious. There is no blame or responsibility for them to carry and I dislike you on principle if you think otherwise.)

    But I am not ashamed of who I am or have been. Even choices that weren’t great, whether in fashion or in action, are part of the path to having become who I am. (And you might have caught on that I am a fan of who I am….heh!)

    I make, in general, good choices these days. I take care of myself and my people. I am kind, pretty, talented, intelligent, funny, and a load of other things that make me madly love me. I strive daily to be closer to my best self, to live a life that spreads love and light. And I fail daily, but I keep trying. I might not be everyone’s cup of tea (and maybe even less so for some of you after you read this list), and I am okay with that. I’d drink me!

    So, here are labels you could apply to me now or in the past (don’t worry; the ones that are dangerous to my health are either in the past or under control now…please don’t post concern) (also, these are posted in no particular order, so please don’t try to read import into the order):

    • Bipolar
    • The kind of depressed that’s not physiologically caused
    • Anorexic
    • Autistic
    • Bisexual
    • A geek
    • A nerd
    • Pale
    • A night owl
    • Fiscally and socially liberal
    • A self-hater
    • My own biggest fan
    • A daydreamer
    • A rock musician
    • Genderfluid
    • Ambitiously in pursuit of my dreams
    • A writer of scifi
    • An introvert
    • Reclusive (no, seriously…I need hours of alone time daily–sleep and work time don’t count…I never get lonely…I can go weeks with only digital human contact…I can even go days with no contact at all before curiosity about some friend or other has me sending a note or looking at Facebook…I don’t fear leaving the flat, but I’d generally prefer not to…)
    • Apparently very selective in my friendships
    • Ridiculously musically eclectic
    • Devoutly Mormon
    • A friend to multiple people who dislike each other
    • Suicidal (which does not mean the next label is a given)
    • Self harming (which, no, is not a necessarily the same thing as suicidal)
    • Victimised by a sexual predator
    • Violently angry
    • A pacifist
    • Unconcerned with acting my age
    • Verbose (yeah, you probably noticed that)
    • Precocious
    • Intense
    • Silly
    • A gamer (and not just video games…tabletop…online RPG…LARP–which I’d do all caps even if it weren’t an acronym because I know that’s the one I’m most likely to get scorned for…)
    • Serious
    • Pro-life and pro-choice (which is to say that I can’t see–aside from a very tiny list of reasons–choosing abortion for myself, but that I support every woman’s right to make her own choices)
    • Vegetarian (I did this for years…it’s complicated…)
    • Related: For various health reasons, I also tried paleo, gluten-free, dairy-free, absolutely no sugar, and a few others
    • Related: I eat sugar and meat and simple carbs and dairy
    • Sober
    • Goth
    • Punk
    • Not goth
    • Not punk
    • A regular patron of loud dance clubs and quiet bars
    • Celibate
    • Feminist
    • Poor
    • Sometimes, briefly, a little bit well-off
    • And there are a few physical illness/pain issues that don’t allow me to do everything everyone, including me, wants or thinks I should do and I might not like it but that doesn’t mean I’m ashamed

    There are others, but you get the point. (Or I hope you do, because even I am tired of the list.)

    TL;DR (for older readers, that means “too long; didn’t read”): I am or have been a lot of things various people think I should be ashamed of. I am not ashamed. Please do not tell me I am brave or console me unless I ask. It is okay to like me without liking everything about me. I expect that’s the case. Thanks 😀


    📂This entry was posted in artist's life history not ashamed

  • In-Equidistance

    Posted on by amber Comment

    Today is not the day I write an essay about the distance that often comes from being an artist. From being a musician. Or the way that the intense emotions that seem so prevalent in artists can make it hard to get enough distance. And how it’s all a blessing and a curse. But it is the day I make you a playlist about distance.

    This last year, I’ve been thinking about distance quite a bit (the positive, the negative, or just the neutral facts). Being close, being far, wanting things to be other than they are or thinking they are just right, the physical/mental/emotional, distance from/closeness to self and others. I made myself multiple playlists about that during the year (because I do so love to make playlists). So I thought I’d make a short, moody distance playlist for you as well (with a made-up-ish word* for its title). After all, distance is something we have in common…

    (Yes, I left out some good songs to keep this shorter. The first draft was enormous. I was trying to fit in all my distance thoughts… And some of the distance is in the way the song feels when I listen. So just close your eyes and feel it with me.)

    in-equidistance from amberrockstar on 8tracks Radio.

    in-equidistance
    1. SQÃœRL- Spooky Action at a Distance
    2. I Am Kloot – Even the Stars
    3. He Is A Pegasus – Fin
    4. Radiohead – A Reminder
    5. His Name Is Alive – Are You Coming Down This Weekend?
    6. Placebo – Drink You Pretty
    7. The National – I Need My Girl
    8. Ash – Lost In You
    9. Emmy the Great – Paper Forest (Birds)
    10. James Dean Bradfield – Don’t Look Back
    11. Death Cab for Cutie – Transatlanticism
    12. Baxter – I Can’t See Why
    13. Bj̦rk РUnravel
    14. Shriekback – (Open Up Your) Filthy Heart (To Me)
    15. Editors – Let Your Good Heart Lead You Home
    16. David Bowie – Where Are We Now?
    17. Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds – The Ship Song
    18. Manic Street Preachers – Solitude Sometimes Is
    19. The Joy Formidable – Silent Treatment
    20. Placebo – H.K. Farewell

    EDIT 2014-12-29: After yesterday’s all audio playlist, I got an itch to make a video playlist. I love video, and I love what it can add to the experience of the music. For this playlist, the only real theme is that I thought of a video and could find that video online. Honestly, I was baffled at how hard it was to find certain videos…Anyway, I gave myself a very short while to brainstorm and add videos to a list, and then I went through and kept the ones that felt somehow coherent, narrowing it down from about a billion… (Not sure why most are older…) This time, don’t close your eyes.

    Stars in Your Eyes
    1. Daphne Guinness: Evening in Space
    2. David Bowie: Life on Mars?
    3. Placebo: This Picture
    4. Ash: Shining Light
    5. Siouxsie and the Banshees: The Passenger
    6. Placebo: Slave to the Wage
    7.Manic Street Preachers: Love’s Sweet Exile
    8. Duran Duran: Electric Barbarella
    9. David Bowie: Ashes to Ashes
    10. Placebo: Taste In Men
    11. IAMX: Missile
    12. Garbage: Androgyny
    13. Ash: Girl From Mars (UK vid)
    14. Siouxsie and the Banshees: Face to Face
    15. Björk: All Is Full of Love
    16. Manic Street Preachers: Stay Beautiful
    17. Placebo: Bruise Pristine
    18. David Bowie: The Stars (Are Out Tonight)

    *Things that are equidistant are the same distance from a common point. Equidistance is that equal distance. “Equi” means equal. And you know what distance is, what it is to be distance. “In” is either a preposition concerning location or is a negating prefix. All of this comes together in my head, suggesting many possible meanings to the title…Art is one of the few places I can enjoy ambiguity…


    📂This entry was posted in artist's life Bowie playlists pondering

  • Explain Yourself!

    Posted on by amber 1 Comment

    As observant readers know, I don’t talk about the meaning behind the lyrics I write. I’ve been thinking lately about explaining myself, explaining why I don’t explain myself, via blog. I was almost derailed, though, as I read the introduction to a book of lyrics by one of my favourite artists (Brian Molko of Placebo). Brian doesn’t even like to have his lyrics written out for people to read and, whilst I don’t share that particular dislike, the reasons he provided made sense. Suddenly, I felt like I’d already put so much out there just by providing lyrics…But here I am, explaining myself. Oddly, the thing that has me finally writing up what I hope will be a comprehensive guide to why I don’t like to explain what/whom lyrics are about is the decision to actually do a little explaining as part of the release of my band’s Each to Each EP. No, I know, it doesn’t make sense. Welcome to the chaos of my brain!

    Loki's brain is a cat in a box

    Now, without further preface:

    Why I Don’t Like To Explain My Lyrics

    (A list I scribbled whilst on the tube)

    1. I can’t be the only person who loved a song and found meaning in it and then read or heard the band talking about what they meant by it and was completely put off the song or confused…and it ceased to be meaningful to me. Sometimes, for the sake of being fed by art, it’s better we don’t understand what the artist intended.
    2. Lyrics ought to stand on their own, in the context of a song, without need for explanation. Writing them without intent to explain them keeps me from taking sloppy shortcuts. Because…
    3. In an ideal world, my songs are all over the place and people are hearing them without explanation. And…
    4. People are finding their own connection to the lyrics, their own meaning. Mine matters and there’s something to be said for authorial intent, but who am I to deny you the meaning you find? People are, I believe, most likely to find a meaning that speaks to their understanding and their context or to find, in those things that they connect with that are outside their context, a way to open their minds and hearts.
    5. Sometimes, the feelings that are captured in lyrics are fleeting. They might last only as long as it takes me to write. They might even be mostly worked out but just a pushy ghost whispering words in my heart by the time I have a moment to write. If I was hurt by you or doubted you for one brief moment, there’s no reason to have you feel hurt or upset every time you hear a song that was written in that moment.

      Bowie turns his back on you

      On a related note…

    6. Lyrics, like other art forms, sometimes dramatise a feeling or an experience. We’re trying to help evoke a massive emotion in just a few minutes; we don’t have years of building up the emotional context. (Or maybe I realised the best words to get the emotion and the rhyme/metre is to use a word that’s a bit more than things strictly, literally were. Ah, artistic license…)

      Little girl pounds at a window...text: FEELINGS

      This leads to two reasons I don’t want to tell you the story behind a song:

      1. Yes, it’s an authentic emotion I’m describing, but it doesn’t mean that every moment of whatever we were doing was this massively horrible or amazing. I don’t want anyone taking it the wrong way.
      2. I don’t want people who care about me to know that something is really that massively big because they would worry. They don’t need to worry. Better they assume it’s just dramatised. (I promise, if I need help, I’ll reach out.)
    7. Whilst the feelings or my side of a story are mine to share, I don’t necessarily want to cast aspersions on or cause discomfort in the other person(s) involved. Especially if I was being a bit dramatic. Even if I wasn’t, I’m not actually hateful and I hope that even those who’ve done the worst to me have gone on to become better people and have happy lives. (I’ve actually had more than one person who quite sincerely apologised to me, years after the fact, when they realised how horrid they’d been.)
    8. I don’t want to feed anyone’s egos. I don’t want to make famous (or infamous) people who did me ache. The only way in which I let them linger in my life is by turning them into something good (lyrics, poems, characters in stories, art!). If the worst they did was break my heart by not returning a feeling, my emotions are still not here for their egos. They need to go find some other girl or boy to help them feel that, someone to whom they return the feeling so that it’s a healthy situation. (And, whilst some people think they know which songs are about them, I’ve had some of my closest friends guess incorrectly about a song’s inspiration. So, if someone tells you I wrote it about them, they probably don’t know what they’re talking about…)
    9. Often, I’ve used the song to process through and be mostly done with an emotion or a dark moment. If we’re performing, I’m willing to put myself back in that emotion to give you a good show (I am a fan of emotional authenticity). Outside that context, however, I want to be done with the feeling. (Why dwell on an old hurt when life delivers new hurts?) And some things will creep back in far too easily if I tell you what the song was about. I try to have the same policy with emotional self harm as I do with physical, which is to say I avoid it these days.
    10. The meanings of the songs evolve, even for me. You know how sometimes you hear a song and it means one thing, and then you live a little more and the song evolves to mean something else? There are a few of my songs where that’s what’s happened. (Bruise Me, for instance…and I swear I intend to write about that in the tidbit I’m going to post about Bruise Me in the days after the album release, so read that for a concrete example.)

    Having told you all that, and feeling pretty sure I’ve covered all my reasons (nine is a good number), I’m going to go write some tidbits about the songs on the album…give you a little peek at what’s behind some of the songs.

    Crowley (from Supernatural) pulls out a list and says, "Let me tell you about my feels."

    Of course, whilst I prefer not to talk about the meanings, I’m always interested in hearing what the songs mean to someone else. Even if, as occasionally happens, what someone hears in them is so far from my truth when I wrote them that I get confused. It gives me a chance to discover nuances and consider other perspectives. So do keep finding meaning. For me, if people are connecting and finding meaning, the songs are doing what they’re meant to do, and that means my life has been worth living…worth singing about.

    xx


    📂This entry was posted in artist's life Bowie inspirations & influences lyrics varnish

  • It’s Full of Stars!

    Posted on by amber Comment

    I’ve come to a healthy decision, I think, in terms of image. And I am pretty sure that a number of people I know might benefit from the journey and the decision it led to. Because all of us have an image, a way that others perceive and think of us based on what they see of us, whether or not we are deliberate about cultivating it. So, I’m going to lay out the stones that make up this path and see if I can walk you down it and show you my destination. First, some stones…

    Stone One… I have always known (growing up on Bowie) that image is an important aspect of an artist. I have often been taught the importance of at least appearing to be a good person, the right person for a job, and that sort of thing. Like everyone, I’ve benefited from the added enjoyment of an artist whose awesome art is only made more interesting by their cool image. I also understand why, even if I hate it, image matters for non-artists. We humans tell each other not to judge books by their covers…And we can work on that, but judging books by covers is a large part of the history of how we survived. I won’t argue it’s always a good thing, because it’s more complex than that. This stone is more about acknowledging that we live in a world where image is part of the equation and that there are times I’ve gotten some enjoyment from others’ images. Whether or not we like it, we all have images.

    http://vimeo.com/83696019

    Here. Enjoy Bowie’s image mastery.

    Also, when you’re on this side of the microphone or keyboard, there’s always someone pushing an image on you or asking if you’ve taken your image into account. It’s part of the business of art, something you have to deal with if you want your art to see the light of day. I do. I want that very much. But that’s where my love of authenticity strongly asserts itself. I know that image is important, even if I’d rather not have to spare it a thought. I want to have my music and my words in all of your heads, so I have to at least stop and assess this issue.

    Stone Two… The other night, I stayed up way too late talking with a friend as I tried to sort out a small bio. She did the smart thing and looked at what other bios in my peer group for this might look like and suggested changes to help mine mesh better. We sent emails back and forth, replying multiple times to each other before we’d read replies to our replies, explaining why changes were a good idea or felt bad, and finally ended up with the original idea I’d sent her….just the order of a couple sentences switched rather than a massive re-write.

    Stone Three… Longer term than that, some essays on women on the autism spectrum and the way that they use mirroring to seem “normal” have had me thinking about the extent to which we all do mirroring as part of fitting into our societies. Because there are plenty of things that indicate that I might be on the spectrum, and because I am a massive fan of authenticity, this all brought up some concern. I spent a bit quietly freaking out, wondering how much of me was really me. (I take self-knowledge and authenticity Very Seriously.)

    Stone Four… Two days ago, I stumbled across this essay on the issue of identity and the ideal self in the film Velvet Goldmine. I suspect you can pull out some useful tidbits to bring on our journey even if you’ve not seen the film, so I’ll wait here whilst you go have a read. (Really, it’s an important part of how I got to my destination, so it’s worth me waiting here all alone whilst you read…)

    Identity and the Ideal Self in Todd Haynes’ Velvet Goldmine

    Screencap from Velvet Goldmine. Arthur points at TV and shouts, "That's me! That's me, Dad! That's me!"

    Read it? Okay then….

    As most of you know, my passion is making music. I pour everything into my band, and let any leftover drops fall into my efforts at writing poetry and fiction. This means that the dreaded bio is a regular part of my life. If I’m lucky, someone else writes something that is close enough to good and true that I can just sigh and let it be. However, there are still bios that are mine to write. In an age where our art can go well beyond just those who already know us, the bio is part of how we communicate our image.

    This is me, standing on Stone One. Admitting this isn’t just about tricking someone into giving me an office job or letting me hang out with them. This is about my life’s passion. So let’s revisit Stone Two.

    Postcard style image. Text: Don't mistake this fake smile and professional body language. I'd punch you in the throat if I knew I wouldn't lose my job.

    Day jobs require massive work on my image.

    I’d written a short bio that I knew was true to who and how I am, but I also knew there was at least one potential problem. In it, I said something I often say about me, that I’m a scifi girl. I know that at least one of the editors for the project that needed this bio hates when adult females call themselves girls (or that’s been my impression of her feeling). I understand her objection (or I think I do) and totally acknowledge the validity of it.

    Important note: I want to be very clear that the editor in question is someone I both like and respect. And even if I’ve misunderstood her reasons, I’m sure that her reasons are reasonable and intelligent. Nothing I write here ought to be seen as a criticism of or attack on her or those who share her opinion (including other friends of mine).

    What I think I understand as her issue with adult females referring to themselves as girls is that, so often, women who call themselves girls are doing it in a way that diminishes their power and capability. This is a true and troubling thing. On the other hand, I tend to call everyone girls and boys. In my head, when I refer to myself as a girl, it’s because “woman” just sounds so serious and so much more grown up than I tend to be, “lady” either sounds goofy in the wrong way or like the object of the term is better behaved than I tend to be, and most other terms for females are either sterile (like “female”) or the sort of word you are best just using in jest (like “broad”). But a girl…she’s a female who’s not necessarily a grown up, even if she’s an adult. She might be serious, but she’s just as inclined to silliness. There’s a light-heartedness in that that I have had to fight hard to include in myself.

    Me in silly hats

    Me. Fighting hard.

    (Update 2014-09-22: Just had a great chat with the editor in question and wanted to clarify on her behalf and with her permission. Especially since I totally agree. So, in her own words: My thing re: “girl” for adult women is really just about the UNEXAMINED use. Like automatically referring to “the men” and “the girls” when everyone’s an adult. But examined usage and self-identification as a girl, no matter your age, is not a thing I have a problem with! I guess it’s mostly a self-identification vs. cultural infantilization things; those are two very difference usages.)

    So, there was this bio where I’d called myself a scifi girl…but I didn’t want to annoy the awesome editor who’d given my work a chance (and loved it!)….It was a three sentence bio, and every. single. sentence. got analysed to death that night. Why did I feel it was an essential part of describing who I was? Why was expressing it in those words important to me? (Was it important to me?)

    Me as a space girl with laser gun.
    Clearly important to me.

    And, in case you think it’s just that I’m too much a navel-gazer…People who read that bio may very well find it influencing their view of me and of the work it accompanies. This could very well lead to more or fewer readers. It could also very well lead to editors loving me (and giving me more chances) or hating me and not wanting to publish things written by the likes of me. I felt like the weight of my writing career was on that tiny bio. Ugh!

    Okay, on to Stone Three. I think that a lot of us spend at least a portion of our lives trying to figure out who we are. And many of us hope that we have figured out who we actually are. Even if we let our choices be influenced by friends and family, we might quietly keep a mental list of what our actual preferences are (and label it Guilty Pleasures or Secret Dreams). Even if we get adept at mirroring (and, to remind you, this is a normal thing that all humans do; it’s part of how, for instance, small children figure out how to behave and how you figured out what was okay to wear to your last job, to that party, to a funeral, etc), one hopes that we’d still be aware of when we’re doing that so that we know who we really are or want to be. For people who, on some level, sense that they are quite different and that mirroring is a very important part of how they survive in the world, would it start to become so habitual that they stopped really noticing when they weren’t being themselves? And, if they noticed that they’d mirrored themselves into being someone that wasn’t authentically them, would they be able to break the mirrors?

    As I’ve mentioned, self-knowledge and authenticity are Very Important to me. As I wrote that bio, I was writing sentences that are about the part of me that I feel quite sure is really, truly me. Using words that feel true to my perception of that really, truly me. Which is why, in the end, I decided to risk it. To use those words and at least know that any judgement of me was based on authentic me (even if it might be a misunderstood idea of authentic me). Better to be hated for who I am than loved—or hated—for who I’m not. No need to smash mirrors there. Even if left entirely alone…nobody to see me or judge me….the things in that bio weren’t me mirroring. At this point, I thought I had reached my destination….

    Except that my brain was still turning this over for the life lessons, for the ways I could extend this to the other parts of who I am and what I do. Especially because I make rock music, and image definitely figures into that. Let’s not kid ourselves. (Even Hendrix chose his bassist based entirely on liking the look of the guy. Unless I’ve misunderstood, Noel Redding had never played bass before.) So, even sitting there and telling myself I’d reached my destination, I knew I hadn’t. There was a bigger place down the path…

    Fortunately, Stone Four fell in front of me; I didn’t have to go looking for it. Love it when that happens.

    Just in case you didn’t actually read the essay (in which case, shame on you!), here’s the important bit from that for me: The rockstar in the film was being what he thought he needed to be to create the image that would sell records. He was unhappy and destined for failure. The reporter in the film moved closer to true fulfilment as he realised and lived closer to his true self (which was something like the image that the rockstar was trying to pretend to be). That same basic persona was heaven for one and hell for the other.

    Maxwell Demon from Velvet Goldmine

    That this is the persona in question doesn’t hurt my interest

    I stood on Stone Four a few hours (to be fair, I went about my day but let it rest in the back of my head…I don’t have the luxury of just standing around and pondering for hours). I didn’t initially realise that this was a stone on the path. And then…one of those epiphanies that feels kind of obvious…so, if this is obvious to you, be kind. I’m sure I’ve out-figured you somewhere…ha!

    Destination/Epiphany/Decision: The best image to work on is one built on your idea of who your idealised self is. (This does not apply if you’re pursuing goals in life that don’t actually reflect your true heart. Also, if that’s the case, even my non-ideal self is sad for you and wishes you happier destinations. Anyway….)

    This is something most of us already kind of do. We set New Year’s Resolutions based on who that best person is we think we can be. We show our best business or people-person face when we go to a job interview. We put on our best selves when we meet new people (and when it’s a false best self, we watch relationships crumble…so be extra careful with this one). Even those who try not to do this probably have certain bad habits or less-awesome behaviours that you’ll never see unless you live with them.

    Animated gif of a cat jumping a piece of paper as soon as it's done being printed.

    Me? I have patience issues….

    Here’s the thing….If you’re working on being your idealised self, you’re working on behaving the way you want to behave. Even if this doesn’t make people crazy about you the way you’d like, you’ll be loved—or hated—for who you truly are. You’ll have built desired behaviours and characteristics, because a lot of who we are is built on the habit of how we behave or think about ourselves. You win. And if it just so happens that your idealised self is the image that also speaks to others in a way that moves your art or cause ahead or that gains you awesome friends, at least the effort you’re putting into upholding your image (to keep that movement or those people) will also be effort put into being the person you most want to be. Again, you win. (Also, if you decide that you were wrong about who you thought your best self is, you got there authentically and you can then change your efforts—authentically—towards that new idea of who your ideal self is.)

    I’m a massive geek. Part of that, since I was 3 years old, has been role playing games. You make a character sheet that describes who your character is and then you sit at a table or run around a room and you pretend to be that person. For me, one of the main tactics in deciding the concept for my character (that kernel of an idea about who she is that I’d then flesh out into someone I could pretend to be as I slew dragons or vampires or whatever the game master threw my way) has been choosing a part of who I am or who I wish I were and turning it up a little bit. Often, I’d choose one trait or one issue and build around that. But the characters that were the most enjoyable to play for a long time, regardless of other players and the game masters, were those that were built to be an amplified form of whatever my idealised version of self was at the time. This was also kind of cool in that I got to learn some lessons about which traits I thought I wanted but really didn’t enjoy having. Some pieces of the picture I had of my ideal self have survived since I was 3 years old; some have disappeared and been replaced.

    Me with many sparkly things on my face

    Lasting part of ideal self: no restraint with sparkly things on my face

    (Note: I’ve always been what has seemed authentically me to me. But, with this new place I’ve reached, I’ve now given myself permission in advance to never pretend I’m something other than the person I am or am trying to be. The issue of image is laid to rest. It’s now an issue of “who do I think the best me is?”)

    So whilst I will never be as perfect at some (many?) things as I’d like, this is how I play the game now. Except that we’re not talking about a game. We’re talking about the thing that finally motivates me to throw myself entirely into trying to be my idealised self. Because I look at the life I want…I see that door I want to kick down, to shine out the best of who I am in song and in word, and I realise that the best way to shine out that best is to try to be my idealised self. She’s not perfect; she won’t please or appeal to everyone. But, when you love me, you’ll love actual me. And, if you hate me, you’ll hate actual me (and never have to second guess yourself…it’s okay…go find another someone to give the time to…it’s truly a shinier path for us all).

    And, when I kick that door down, I won’t wear myself out trying to maintain an image that I hate. It’s a freedom it seems many people, in and out of the public eye, would bask in. Me? I’m going to shine and I’m going to bask. Join me?

    Image from 2001: A Space Odyssey. Quote: It's full of stars!


    📂This entry was posted in artist's life Bowie inspirations & influences pondering

  • Don’t Hate Me for Not Hating

    Posted on by amber Comment

    I’ve had a potentially controversial epiphany this weekend. And, whilst wisdom might dictate that I keep it to myself, I’m sharing just in case it’s as good for you as it’s been for me. But I do want to be clear that I’m not judging those who don’t feel like this is the right answer for them. I respect those who’ve found paths and forged ahead in ways I’ve not managed and I wish them (you) nothing but goodness.

    As I often do, and as many musicians and other artists often do, I was pondering how to quit my day job entirely and live on my art. (Not because I’m lazy; anyone who knows the work I put into Varnish will tell you that it’s a full-time job on its own. Add in side projects of various types, and I put in more hours than most non-artists I know.) I was feeling extra eager to sort out how to do this because another friend has recently quit her day job, and all her income is now from things related to her creative abilities. And, just to make it seem more necessary, some of my less active projects have suddenly gotten more active, demanding more time and energy.

    Me taking out a Dalek
    Plus, I hear they’re looking for a new Doctor…

     

    The way that this pondering goes is that I think of everyone I know, whether in person or online, who doesn’t have a ‘normal’ job and who seems to be making it just on their creative merits. Then, I think of all the things they’re doing to make ends meet, and I try to figure out which of those things I might also be able to do. Finally, I recognise that most of those endeavours have an element of luck to them so I might still take years to sort it out.

    Right now, some of you are thinking that, really, I ought to just quit my job, because burning that bridge will force me to work hard and relieve me of the burdens that my job puts on my time and energy. In a world where I’m the only one who depends on my income, where I can just live in my car if need be, that’s an option I would consider. I’m willing to make myself sacrifice for what I believe in and love, but I’m afraid that I can’t make my loved ones suffer any more than they already do for my art. (I’m not actually joking. Being involved to any degree with someone who’s serious about their art has its costs and difficulties.) Plus, it’s not like I’m slacking on my efforts to move ahead, lazily watching things go by on that un-burnt bridge…

    This time, however, the pieces of my pondering came together in a different way. At least for me, here’s what I found:

    1a. One point of quitting the day job is to have a schedule that is more conducive to creativity.

    1b. The current project I’m on, with the exception of a few days a month, is mainly something I can do on my own schedule as long as I finish the things I’m supposed to finish and put in the right number of hours. Stay up late to write or play? Yep, I can generally do that.

    2a. Another point of quitting the day job is to have more time for creativity.

    2b. Most of the people I’m watching are still having to spend as many hours on things that aren’t their actual art as they might on a day job.

    3a. Yet another point seems to be keeping one’s energies focused on creative pursuits.

    3b. Quite a bit of what others seem to be doing isn’t actually working on their main projects (their bands, the paintings that speak to their soul, etc), but it seems to be working on things that use their talents with more of an emphasis on money-making. Which, for a lyricist, means that being paid to write and edit non-creative things (that’s what I do right now) seems like a parallel thing.

    4a. Finally, a point of quitting the day job seems to be that doing all this will also help grow their audiences and/or build the connections that move their main projects ahead.

    4b. To be fair, I might be missing things on social media, but…a lot of the people I’m watching don’t seem to be regularly having shows or producing art. They don’t appear to be getting this part. I hope I’m wrong. But, if I’m right, I’m at least as successful at this as they are, and having the day job seems to give me as many chances to meet people that I can nudge toward checking out the band, coming to shows, all that stuff that makes an artist feel like they’re succeeding.

    Plus, I have (for the duration of the project) stable income and (for a little while, in a couple months) access to health care. Even if you want to be nasty about me wanting to make money with my music so I can pay bills doing what I love, you can’t hate me for generally being glad I can pay bills. So, and here’s where it gets even more controversial, whilst I would far rather just be playing music and paying bills that way, as day jobs go, I don’t hate this one. I think it’s okay. Flexible schedule, the writing I’m doing is actually one of my favourite types of non-creative writing, my boss and coworkers are good people who are easy to work with overall…

    This all came together in my head and I suddenly realised that, for now, my situation isn’t actually worse than most the people I’m watching scramble to pay bills with non-day job kinds of income. When this project ends, I will be back to pondering options. And, if I were offered something else that seemed like a better fit, of course I’d take it. But, for now, I’m done trying to run away from this day job. I can stop wasting the energy and time stressing over that and figuring it out. And that feels really good. (Though, like I said at the start, I’m not judging those who are happy with other options. It’s only been a few hours since I stopped envying them.)

    Don’t hate me for not hating my day job right now, okay? This is just a nice break, a chance for me to take a breath and regroup whilst paying my bills (and, yes, continuing to make music and write). Chances are good, come November, I’ll be back in the same place you are. Hurrah!

    But maybe, rather than just cast aside so-called ‘normal’ jobs as bad options for artists who haven’t yet made it big, we ought to see if there are day jobs we can do that are really okay. Which is my plan. Though I will continue to confuse interviewers by replying that, in 5 years, where I hope to be is on tour with my band, not in the management roles I’m ‘supposed’ to be chasing.

    Good luck with your own chases, lovelies!

    xxx


    📂This entry was posted in artist's life pondering