Worrying

I used to do this thing in college where I gnawed on the inside of my lip. It created a bump, and I just kept fucking chewing it. When I developed the “anxiety bean” in college, I was dealing with a bunch of fucked up shit, and I managed pretty well mentally, but the physical manifestation was a slight cause for concern. My dentist noticed the bump, and he called in his father, also a dentist at the practice and an absolute asshole to boot, to take a look. The guy glanced in my mouth for all of five seconds, looked me dead in the eye, said, “You’re giving yourself cancer,” and walked out.

Well, thanks Motherfucker, DDS, I’m just chewing the ever loving shit out of my mouth because I’m riddled with anxiety, but that news is like the sound of the ocean, the smell of lavender, and petting a cat all at once. Maybe that was just a scare tactic, but I did eventually stop and, as far as I know, didn’t develop oral or any other kind of cancer. But, exciting news, everyone: it’s back!

There was a short time earlier this month that I thought maybe it had never actually gone away. It seemed like it was a normal part of my mouth and like gnawing on it was what I was supposed to do, but I know the truth: there was a long stretch of time I didn’t have this–almost a fucking decade–and there’s a reason it’s back now.

I have almost none of the stressors I had back in college, and when I look around everything in my life is absolutely amazing. I still have anxiety, but it’s much more manageable than it’s ever been in the past. So what the fuck, anxiety bean? I thought you’d fucked off for good?

I may have figured it out today. I was reading an article about Roy Moore and the “school” he was part of that detailed all the ways that those involved believed that women were not their equals. And I was chewing like a fucking cow on cud. Moore has been accused of abhorrent behavior with underaged girls, as I’m sure you know since the news is everywhere, but he’s not the only abuser who’s been highlighted in the media. Every day something new comes out about someone, and I think that’s great (not that it happened, but that it’s being brought into the open), but apparently this is taking some kind of fucked up emotional toll on me that I was not prepared for at all.

As probably most women will admit, we already live with this little cloud following us all the time that reminds us to do things a certain way, and it’s extra fucked up because it’s basically reminding you to not be complicit in your own rape/murder because if it happens IT’S YOUR FAULT. Sometimes you can almost totally silence it, sometimes it’s looming and booming over you, but mostly it’s just kind of there, hovering on the horizon, prompting you to get your keys out before you head to the car. But now the sky always feels stormy. I’m no more afraid of anyone or more aware that this shit happens all the time, it’s just constant and so real and raw now.

I’m not advocating for these allegations to go away. This shit is important and in the end will hopefully lead to more openness and less harassment and assault, and my reaction to it doesn’t really matter, so fuck this blog post all together, but it’s just interesting how something like this can affect a person. When I compare me now to me about 10 years ago, my situation is so drastically different, and yet I’m having this same pretty intense stress reaction that I’ve only experienced one other time in my life. How are these things equitable?

And on top of that, I consider my experiences, while harrowing in their own right, to be nothing compared to what I know other women have faced, and yet my whole person is off. How are others coping? How have they coped all along? How have women stayed so sane for so long? (By so long I mean the history of the entire human race, by the way.)

Anyway, the point is, everything is the fucking worst, and I don’t know how to transition out of that to NaNoWriMo without making the above seem like an excuse for the below, so here goes: I FAILED.

I’m closing out NaNo at 31,882 words. I actually don’t consider that a failure since it’s more than I’ve written in probably a couple years, so I’m incredibly proud to have done that and to essentially be back on the writing wagon. But I’m so fucking glad it’s over. On the bright side, come January Vacancy will begin being posted again, and I’m pumped about all the content to come. Also, tomorrow is December 1st which means blogmas begins! Will I fail at that too? Will the anxiety bean grow? Only time will tell! So stay tuned for more upbeat posts about sexual assault and serials. (Shit, idea for a band name!)

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