Needless to say, ever since my therapist went on vacation a week or so ago, my life has been snowballing downhill. Everything that could possibly break has been breaking (including, but not limited to, my mom’s rav4 (which nobody can figure out what’s wrong), my laptop, the entire basement of our house, the rotors in my Xterra, and much more), and much more. Clarke got really sick last week and is just now starting to get better, claiming it was just his sinuses. But, I strongly suspect he got some form of covid, as he’s only gotten one dose of a two-dose vaccine. My dogs both have allergies, causing their ears to swell and itch, though with some ear medication and regular cleaning, the swelling is finally going down.
There’s much more, but I digress.
But, as tough as things have been, I’m thankfully able to get a break. Well, at least, kind of.
While I wait for the laptop repair shop to either fix my laptop or deliver the bad news of its demise, I’ve been given a replacement gaming laptop while I wait. It’s not as powerful or aesthetically pleasing to me as my older laptop, but it gets the job done. After all, during the days when I’m not at the animal shelter or making friends with the local wildlife, I need an escape. That being my pandemic-caused addiction to World of Warcraft and the H3H3 podcast.
In the meantime, my mom and brother are currently on an airplane en route to Washington state to start getting our things gathered up. Unfortunately, given how utterly insane the housing market is going everywhere (especially in Washington), it just isn’t feasible for us to move there right now. The company Mom works for lacks the funds to set up a headquarters out there right now. Our Gig Harbor house has just been a money pit and is still in need of major work (most notably, an entire roof replacement). At this point, it just makes more sense to sell it to someone who actually has the money and patience to deal with it.
For me, it’s a sigh of relief, as I can finally safely plan out my college stuff and settle down. Also, I get a few days completely by myself at home. Well, except for the dogs are with me to keep me company and get me out of the house. Yet, I still don’t feel very good or content at all.
Due to all of the chaos, I’ve been having a hard time sleeping, eating, and getting out. I’m tremendously anxious with a perpetually upset digestive system, and I can’t tell if I have a cold or am just tight-chested due to all of the stress. Sleep for me has basically been impossible due to how uncomfortable I am. Getting out has been the hardest thing for me to do, despite my desire to get away from everything going on under this roof. I get out anyway, knowing that exercise and being around animals are scientifically proven to reduce depression and anxiety.
But, I can’t usually muster up the will to leave the house until I am forced to. Penny needs exercise, and if she doesn’t go on her walk, she’ll open up the drawers to someone’s dresser and play keep-away with a sock or underwear until I begrudgingly get up and grab her leash and harness. At which point, she drops the clothing and rushes up to me, whacking my face with her tail as I get her and I ready to go.
Once she's ready, I usually grab an old towel from the closet to lay across the backseat (as Penny gets carsick at times), and together we drive off to either Clement Park or Weaver Hollow Park. Lately, I've been too worn out to walk out Clement Park, but Weaver is smaller and much less busy. Penny, like most dogs, isn't a very fast walker. Her curiosity forces her to stop and sniff almost every budding flower and tree trunk, but her skittishness keeps her close to me. So, I keep walking to keep us moving, though not so fast that Penny can't explore.
As hard as I try to help her, Penny is still very wary of strangers and other dogs. She's terrified of cats, large birds, deer, horses, cattle, leaves and grass in the breeze, bikes, moving cars, and pretty much everything else. But, she loves to chase prairie dogs into their holes and ducks into their ponds, and her favorite outdoor snacks are grasshoppers and moths. She also loves to get wet and muddy. To be fair, she's 50% golden retriever. Of course, she loves going after greenheads and ground dogs and swimming! Yet, she still fears puppies barely half her size.
At least, Penny isn't even slightly aggressive. She's loud, but is very quick to run and hide from "danger". With a little time and lots of treats and love, she warms up to people and dogs. Soon, she is best buds with everyone who treats her well. In other words, if Penny were human, she'd be me. Well, I don't run from strangers anymore, but when I was a little girl, I absolutely did! Perhaps, like me, Penny will soon grow out of her social anxiety.
After our walk, Penny tends to be much calmer and easier to handle at home. In fact, she often falls asleep almost as soon as I shut the car door behind her, and sleeps the whole way back. Once home, she often grabs a drink and snack from her bowls, then curls up somewhere nearby wherever I go. If I'm on the couch or napping in bed, she'll often try to squeeze herself between me and my old dog, Hunter (who is also extremely needy and lovey, though has never been very fond of walks or leaving the house for that matter). If that doesn't work, she'll curl up against me on whichever side Hunter is not on. Before long, she's snoring quite loudly!
Once Penny is in deep sleep, I'll carefully get up and pay some attention to Hunter, who has been by my side for over a decade. His age definitely shows these days, which is hard for me to see. But, he isn't too old to play. And, he's especially not too old to be held by my side while I watch something on Youtube or play video games. Unlike Penny, Hunter's always been a very chill dog. I've rarely seen him too excited or nervous around people, however he likes to be the alpha dog, and I've had to break up a few fights between him and much bigger rival dogs over the years; my left hand still bares a few faint scars from the worst dog fight Hunter's ever gotten himself into.
But, I still love that little dude (even though he can be a jerk to other dogs), and I'll keep him 'til the very end. He's been there for me when I needed him the most, and I've vowed to always be there for him when he needs me the most.
Oh, where would I be if I didn't always have a dog (or any other animal) by my side through thick and thin?
Besides my beloved dogs, music has also been very important to me. I'd even argue that music has played a vital role in my survival and wellbeing. Without it, I wouldn't be where I am today. And, I mean that!
I love all kinds of music, but for tougher times, I tend to gravitate towards more raw, grittier songs. Such as blues, heavy/death metal, and bluegrass ballads. Lately, I've been listening to a lot of Charlie Parr and Ryan Bingham; two artists I've somehow only recently discovered. Alongside them, I've continued to listen to artists and songs I've known for longer, such as Bear and a Banjo, Rob Ickes and Trey Hensley, as well as Tyler Childers, and Ray Wylie Hubbard.
This music makes me more than want to just strum their tunes on a guitar. It reminds me that I'm not alone in this world of suffering, and that I have gone through hard times before, and I can survive them again. But, the tunes and instruments themselves do way more to encourage my soul than the lyrics. When I listen to music, rarely do I listen to or for the lyrics. Instead, it's the beat, the instruments, the chords that attract me, not the lyrics. How or why this is, I can't yet put into words. Perhaps, in order to truly express what this music does for me, I actually just need to film myself sitting in the shade of the ponderosas in my backyard, strumming my old guitar (or not. I'm far too shy to perform my music in front of a camera).
Better yet, you ought to just listen to some of the artists I mentioned above. Perhaps, then, you'll get a better understanding of what I'm trying (and failing) to express in words. Some things simply can't be put into words. Hence is why music and painting and dancing exist.
Speaking of which, if music doesn't help to ease my troubles, I turn to art. Specifically, drawing and painting. A week or so ago (from the time of writing this), I payed a visit to the antique store knowing I'd need something besides a canvas to do art on while my house was being worked on and my mom's rav4 wasn't working. I left the musty place with a steer skull and a coyote skull, and got to work as soon as I got home.
For the longest time, I just sat staring at the skulls, visualizing the numerous ways I could decorate them in my mind's eye. Soon, I settled on a design for the steer skull. Carefully, with a fine pencil, I lightly sketched out a pronghorn buck's head. Alongside him, a bird of some sort would sit on a branch. But, it wouldn't be a realistic scene complete with a prairie background like my paintings tend to be. I wanted the skull to be much more colorful than that, as lots of color (especially bright, exciting colors) helps to calm me down.
Outside on my back porch, I set up my painting supplies on the outdoor table, which I'd covered with a plastic tarp to protect it from the paint. Then, I got to work, first slathering a very thick layer of red and gold acrylic paint on one half of the skull. On the other half of the skull, I put an equally thick coat of green and blue paint. While I was doing this, I was tuned into the rugged, bluegrass blues I described above.
Over the next several days, I've worked on my art, focusing mainly on the steer skull and a few small canvas paintings (I haven't yet settled on something for the coyote skull, so I've put it away for now). I'd work some on the steer skull, then work on a canvas painting or two while I waited for the skull to dry. Then, I'd get back to work on the steer skull, allowing the canvases to dry. That way, I got a lot more artwork done in a lot less time, and always had something to paint. Within a few days, my first several projects were complete. Well... Almost. I plan on sewing some goose and turkey feathers to strips of leather and wrapping them around the horns of the steer skull. Only, all of those feathers, leather strips, and my sewing kit are still in Washington. So, the steer skull will have to wait to be fully finished.
On the canvases, I've been experimenting with different styles of art, many of them inspired by contemporary and modern styles, as well as realism. While I don't like a lot of modern art, I do like some aspects of it. A canvas with some paint randomly slapped across it is technically art. But, such art just bothers me. I like art featuring recognizable things, like animals, foliage, items, people, so on. Art without those things just looks like an unfinished piece to me. But, I do like to paint a canvas random blotches of color, so then I can paint an animal or a scene with the modern-style as a background. I love lots of color. I love lots of details and things to look at on a canvas. I'm also inspired by old European folk art, featuring colorful plants and animals assembled into a pattern of sorts. Hence, the style of art I'm rapidly developing for myself.
Of course, I still do like scenery and realism art. So, among my more "modern" art pieces, I've painted a few sceneries as well, featuring everything from Hereford cattle to wildlife I see frequently where I live. Also, my grandma Debbie recently asked me to paint her an American Goldfinch which she'd pay me for, which has been in the works for some time. In short, I have a lot of painting to do and fill my days with, which I love!
Yet, no matter what I do to distract myself, or how fast I try to run from my problems, I can't get far. I'm still stuck sleeping upstairs, though not soundly. I'm still worried about the fate of my laptop, and how long it's gonna take to finish the basement. College especially weighs down on my mind. I'm absolutely terrified of it. Much more so than I am excited to go. Choosing a major and classes does nothing except fuel the flames of my worsening identity crisis. I've reiterated thousands of times, the fact that I am beyond wholly unprepared to even begin fantasizing about what lies ahead. I thought I'd be six feet underground by now, if not very close to it. And, yet, I seem to have defied death itself all thanks to science mixed in with Divine Intervention.
When I try to visualize my future, I see nothing but an endless void. I can't even plan out an event for next week, let alone weeks, months, and years into my future. Everything I do, for the most part, is on a whim. Yet, I'm surrounded by people my age who seem to be able to plan things out just fine. My peers all seem to have an idea of who they are, what they believe, and what they wish to be. There are hundreds, if not thousands or even millions of people right now, who are my age and are already well into their lifelong careers and have partners and families of their own. Hell, even my own parents and grandparents were married and had careers and children extremely young! But, here I am at twenty, utterly at a loss of my own identity, who I currently am, what I wish to be. So on...
There are some things about myself that I suspect to be true. Sexuality wise, I've never fallen for anyone, or even been slightly attracted to someone in a sexual way. I've never looked at someone and thought, "Damn, they look good." or, "I'd love to date/kiss/sleep with them!" I've never liked kids nor had the desire to have kids of my own someday. It's not that I'm repulsed by sex or dating or having a family of my own. I just don't like any of that stuff, similarly to how I just can't stand calliflower. It's not that I've been hurt or traumatized by sex or sexuality. I just don't like it, and I don't know why, just like I have no real issues with the taste or texture of calliflower. I just don't care for it. And, that's okay!
Perhaps, this is just a phase, and I'll change my mind about it in college. But, I'm not gonna hold my breath. When I talked about my asexuality to my parents when I was entering middle/high school, they more or less told me to "just wait", and when I reached X grade I'd suddenly start to like someone. But, that didn't come true. In fact, the older I got, the less I liked being around others, the less interested I became in the idea of having a partner or children some day (if it was possible to have less than a 0% interest in that stuff). And the more I tried to keep a low profile and just do my own thing, as just doing my own thing gave me much more joy than trying to shoehorn friendships with people I had a very, very hard time connecting with in any meaningful or worthwhile way. It was basically instinctual for me to turn down a date and shut down anyone who had a crush on me. Not in a mean way, I'll add, or out of any fear or dismay towards the person. I just made it clear that I didn't feel the same towards that person. They were merely friendly acquaintances, and I had no hard feelings towards them. I just never was interested in romantic relationships.
Sadly, for the longest time, I thought something was very wrong with me in regards to sexuality. I knew many people who were openly straight, gay, bi, etc. But, I didn't know anyone who didn't seem to have a sexual attraction to someone. I worried that may have some serious hormonal imbalances that may lead to health issues later down the line. I worried that I was "broken" or "traumatized" in some way, and spent years in therapy trying to find any sort of reason or trauma associated with sex and relationships. To be honest, there was a great deal of trauma stemming from my parents' choice of really shitty partners. But, even once I worked a lot of that out in therapy, and many of my social fears were gone, I still lacked any interest in the kissy-cuddly side of life.
It wasn't until very, very, very recently (I'm talking within just a couple months), that I discovered that I'm not alone and never was. There are other people who exist who don't desire anything romantic, for no other reason than it just doesn't appeal to them. Discovering that has largely dispelled my fears that something is wrong with me, at least in that respect. It has also allowed me to accept that I just may be asexual for life. And, that's totally valid and okay!
Career/interest wise, I'm just starting to find out what I'm good at and what brings me joy. Working with animals and nature is something that brings me oodles of satisfaction and joy! Writing and being alone in the comfort of my home gives me lots of peace and contentment (and subsequently joy). I also love to take things apart and put them back together, finding solutions to problems and building things from scratch. The arts interest me as well, though I don't know if I could make a viable career off of them.
The prospect of finding a career of any kind absolutely petrifies me. Sure, I have a pretty good idea what my talents are and what I enjoy. But, when it comes to work, I have no real clue what I'm good at. From previous experience, I know that I don't want to work at an office where lots of people are around me at once. I also know that I don't want to work in a big city, because people and traffic tend to get on my nerves very easily. Anything that is extremely hazardous in ways (such as mechanical work, farming, guiding hunts, construction, anything in the medical field), while fun and fulfilling, probably isn't a very good idea for me to get into as a career, considering my physical health problems.
That narrows down my career choices quite substantially. But, what those viable careers are, I don't know. I am haunted by the fact that I don't know what I could be doing for the next forty or fifty years after graduating college. Last thing I want to do is end up in a soul-crushing career, no matter how much money it makes me. But, I also don't want to test my luck too much and not worry about money at all; I want to make enough so I don't end up dead broke if/when a health crisis rears its ugly head.
However, knowing my luck, I'll probably end up in a job that I hate making barely enough money to foot the bills, let alone save up enough to retire off of. I hope that I'm wrong.