amorphousartisan

A long time ago, my favourite counselor, F, pointed out to me that when I get most anxious is when I'm most in my head and out of my body. Knowing that sometimes helps, if I catch it early and can do some grounding exercises to anchor myself in my skin again, but sometimes it's just really frustrating because I know what will help, I just can't do it.

Getting my hands dirty and planting stuff in my patio garden the other day helped a lot, and my partner putting me in subspace, even though it was just for a moment, helped as well. When I woke this morning things were fine, I was feeling good about the day, and all it took was seeing one too-real textpost on tumblr to knock me out of my body and trigger this whole anxious mess.

The fact that in some states it is illegal to collect rainwater fucking terrifies me. There's a reason I don't enjoy dystopian fiction, and that's because it is too real. I can see it too easily and that scares the shit out of me. Rainwater. Illegal to collect water.

One day my partner and I are going to have a little farm somewhere in Canada, close enough to a decent sized town or city that we have access to people but far enough away that we can do our own thing. We're going to raise children there, and goats, and chickens probably, and we'll have an art studio out back and a tree house and all the gardening I can possibly manage and then some, and rain barrels and compost piles in different stages of completion, and probably an outhouse for shits and giggles, pun very much intended, because I know myself and I'm here to have fun.

But that's not yet, that's not even soon, and for right now I have a lot to do and very few spoons with which to get it all done.

Really struggling with my patio garden right now. I'm not a very good gardener in general, and my ambitions exceed my abilities especially now that I'm limited to buckets and other makeshift planters. Apparently not all elves (or fae? That's a whole separate entry...) are good with plants. How in the world do I grow peas, tomatoes, radishes, and catnip on my little apartment patio that's constantly getting drenched in rain and already has a bike, a chair, three baby plum trees, a lemon balm plant, and some little strawberry plants in various states if health? I am just...not good at this yet.

Been reading these books by Maggie Stiefvater. They induce an odd sort of anxiety in me, so I can only read a little at a time. The gist is "Magic is real. Psychics are real. Some teenagers - one of whom is dead - are trying to wake up an ancient Welsh king who's buried on a ley line in America." Something about them, though...maybe it's because it hits so close to home? I suspend my disbelief very easily, and very often, and also like...I've experienced some similar things as what's in these books, things that I can't explain and places that are magical and the odd feeling in one's chest when something Big is happening.

Nothing like waking a Welsh king, but. It can be eerie sometimes.

My dreams have been strangely vivid lately, and more mundane than usual. Except for the fox that jumped in the car to sit with my kitsune friend, which reminds me, I should tell them about that. It kind of feels like things are coiling tight and tighter right now? Only, I don't know what the release is going to look or feel like, and I don't know when it's gonna happen. It could unwind gently, or it could snap, and that kind of scares me a little.

Good things are happening. It feels nice, hopeful. It feels like things are okay, now.

Of course, to be fair, I still have my family to deal with. We can't have everything, I suppose.

It's terribly frustrating having food allergies. That is all.