I am soaking in it...

Today's post is inspired by this talk:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=XLtXUiRgUns

I'm feeling particularly tired and sad today. And frustrated. This parenting thing, it seems like you can never win, can you? After a day of feeling proud of myself and seeing fruits of my hard work and decisions, today I felt it all crumbling around me when self-doubt crept in and made me hate this entire world and all this judgment and this loneliness I'm feeling of not knowing who to talk to and who to trust...And also of making decisions based on what I think, which is often times confusing and not that sure, especially when everyone around me seems to question it.

Frick. For example, for such a STUPID example - to pierce or not to pierce her little ears? How can THIS be creating such an annoying problem within the family?
How and what she eats. How and if she breastfeeds. How and when she cries/tantrums. Whether or not she's wearing cologne. (oh my goood!!) How I dress her. What I offer her to play. In what language I speak to her. What school she doesn't even attend yet.

Everything. so. subject. to. such. scrutiny. it. makes. me. dizzy. I'm used to more privacy, to less intense family meddling and sharing. I. am. tired.

Feel like cutting off all my hair and moving to Japan.

Confissões

Confissões: 

1. Tenho a neura de que estou sendo julgada o tempo todo por todos que passam por mim e a Cora. Do tipo - a roupa dela está quente o suficiente? Ela parece menina o suficiente? Eu estou corcunda? E meu cabelo grisalho, por que não pintei? E meu cabelo desidratado? Por que não tratei/cortei? E as unhas? E a barriga, cadê o Pilates? Não tem babá? Tem babá? Trabalha, mas e sua filha? Não trabalha? Mas e sua vida profissional? etc.etc.etc... Que canseira. 

2. Tenho medo de que só serei boa mãe de bebê e não de criança mais velha...e se eu não souber ser mãe dela quando precisar de coisas mais sofisticadas, tipo comida de verdade, tipo uniforme de escola limpo e ensinar como lidar com alguém que ela não gosta? Eu não sei cuidar disso nem para mim mesma!! 

3. Ó sei que tem mais...mas por enquanto é só.  

Me, Myself and Cora

Desde que ela nasceu, a presença da família está maciça em cima de nós. Com boas intenções, claro, e dão uma ajuda certamente muito muito valiosa. Me ajudam para caramba. Mas tem horas que preciso dizer CHEGA e me conceder um tempinho só nós duas. Tipo hoje. Ela estava bem agoniadinha ontem e hoje, com dificuldade de dormir por mais de 15 minutos por vez durante o dia. Aí hoje eu tinha um compromisso à tarde que foi cancelado e não contei para ninguém. Decidi ficar sozinha agora com ela, e estou aliviada. Vendo TV, trabalhando e ela desmaiada aqui no sofá, pois dormiu nos meus braços assim que chegamos em casa. 

Só para você ver...ficam com medo de me deixar sozinha porque ela está "difícil", mas temos certa sintonia e nos entendemos às vezes muito melhor quando todo mundo LET US BE. Eu sei que ela me sente 100% e estas "agonias" tem muito a ver com minhas próprias. Eu sinto meu coração gritar NÃO!! Quando alguém sugere que "vai ficar com ela para dar um descanso para a mamãe." Não quero isso! Não preciso me afastar dela para descansar, muito pelo contrário. 

Minha pequena...a mamãe ta tentando aprender a botar os limites e aprender que o jeito dela vale a pena ser defendido, não importa o que os outros possam pensar. 

Feliz quatro meses. Te amo da ponta do pé à sua cabeça cheirosa e macia. 

A gente se entende, né chulipa?

Who I've Been Being

I've been in such an awful mood these last few weeks. I feel myself curdling from the inside with so much irritation and pettiness. I catch myself snapping at Ez for now real reason, being mean to him, being angry. I'm sad about this. It has something to do with how my entire life has changed, how I have a new loadful of responsibilities yet I see him playing computer games for hours on the couch. And he's  fine, relaxed, not overwhelmed, not scared. Apparently. And I am the opposite of all of those things. 

I feel physically weak and sick a lot of the time. I can't handle too much of the day at a time, it needs to come in slow doses. My hair is falling out like you wouldn't believe, I don't know if I'm going bald. I'm tired of feeling so lemony and so bittery, I don't like who I've been being. 

I wonder if when Cora nurses, my milk is sour as well. 

the physicality of an expanding balloon

Being pregnant has changed my views on being pregnant. It made me go from idolizing it, admiring it - to almost hating it completely. Oh please don't judge me.
I'm uncomfortable 98% of the time. There is no position to sleep in, sit in, walk in, it's becoming lunacy.
It changes everything. self-image, social image, habits - eating, sleeping, daytime, night time, sexual, etc...
It makes you go a bit crazy, messes with all sorts of emotions, really surfaces some deep and heavy things.
I haven't felt much pleasure at all with the physical state of being pregnant. In the beginning it was months of torture with the nausea and panic attacks and the feeling just plain awful, thinking I couldn't have any of my regular meds to help me.  Then I gained the weight all at once and that was a scary time for me as well, just for all the psychological trauma that brought forth and the radical diet changes I adopted, which were stressful for me. Then I got awkward, and I got those weird back pains, which have gone away, but a myriad of new things have taken its place. Heartburn was the latest of them and it has gotten better, or I've gotten better at putting it under my control. Now there's all this restlessness coursing through my body all the time, and I feel like i cannot expand any further, i don't want to, I feel stubborn and childish and angry...grr!!

but I do want to see her. I do have this curiosity about her person...but please, let's start a new phase, on the outside of my body now, ok?

Kinks

I started educating myself on the history of rock n roll. I've always been so hopelessly ignorant on all of it I finally felt ashamed enough to do something about it. With the help of one of my students, I now have a basic idea of how it all flows (from The Kinks, Elvis, Ray Charles to progressive to hard rock to punk to grunge to independent...) and have started with the aforementioned The Kinks. I just put a playlist on grooveshark and get acquainted. It's nice.
Then I'll move on to the next of millions of bands that have resulted since the 50's. Quite an endeavor!

On a different note, I am so angry at the world and at myself I am able to see it oh so clearly. I can actually see that the anger I direct at myself, with my semi-suicide or self-harm impulses - they are actually rage at life in general and I don't take them quite so literally. Thank god.

At my job, people are telling me to not take things so seriously and just face it like the job that it is. "It's just a job!" ... .... ...
I realized that's where we diverge in thinking and attitude: this isn't just a job for me.

This is my LIFE we are talking about.

This job will never be "just a job". There is too much at stake. I feel everything with the life and death urgency that it is. I left another job (which was in itself a big leap of faith and a great personal challenge for me) to place all of my tokens on this one and I have no idea what I'm doing, basically, other than wishing and hoping and waiting. When waiting turns into results after some months, I go ballistic, because the results aren't really what I wanted but then again, what did i want? How can I get angry at life if I don't even know what my expectations are?

So I cried yet again - cried cried cried with all of this bubbling about, erupting in one dangerous volcano. I made 10 thousand resolutions and get away plans. Yeah, you really got me, you got me so you don't know what I'm doing, so I can't sleep at night!
And then I woke up. All I feel is tired and sleepy and with some coffee in  my tummy I'm heading out to honor my commitment, like "a well respected man"- cuz his world is built on punctuality, it never fails. And he's so good and he's all so fine...

Hey, arrête la folie. arrête ta folie!

Da ascoltare mentre leggi: 

To listen to while reading:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=tGkw1VSUlfo&ob=av2e

Still feeling crazy inside. Feeling crazy angry at a lot of things. 

Arrête ma folie!!

I´m wondering what my next long trip should be. Where to, what to study, what to see, what to photograph...I´m dreaming with my eyes open, dreaming of the next train out of this city.

The more I talk about this the more I realize what a crazy city this city is. I mean, it is MY city, I woke up here - oops, i meant to say I grew up here (freudian slip?), so it will always be MY city and I will only accept criticism from people who actually live here. Like criticizing your family members..you can do it but if someone else does it, get out of the way!

I´m tired of the bubble land of civil servants, where all the prices are adjusted to THEIR possibilities. I´m sick of it being so expensive to live on your own, to pay for gas, to pay for bread. I´m tired of all the status symbols people use around here, ranging all the way to brand of their baby clothes, the gyms, workout clothes, your disney vacations , to the schools these brats go to, to the yogoberries. So healthy, soooo american. I´m tired. Yes. You get the point. I don´t care.

I´m tired of living in a place where NOT being a government employee means having to work 12-14 hours a day to make a decent living, and then you dont have any time to enjoy your new found living. I´m tired of HAVING to own a car if I want to maintain my lifestyle - I can´t count on effective or even cheap transportation. If I have at less than an hour to get anywhere, I can´t count on public transportation. I could, but then I´d have to either work less or sleep less. Both essential. 

YES, I am so angry!!

I´m angry I can´t change things without making a big mess in everyone´s lives. I´m angry I actually care about other people´s lives. I´m angry they aren´t thinking of mine. 

Is there a way out?

Now you must listen to this song and watch the video...it´s a fantasy, getting on a horse and that´s it.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=fmaSCvN5YDE&feature=relmfu

I can´t even write logical sensible sentences, taht´s how upset I am right now. What does it take to change?? HOW?? HOW?? What do you do when words are not enough and people are not LISTENING to you?

Logically I would say - you stop depending on words and stop depending on people to make your decisions. Not all people, just that people who are not listening. 

Do not leave this page without having listened to the songs - half of what I´m trying to express is in them!

Calamity Jane, Calaaaamity Jane, calamity Jane, caaaaalamity Jaaaaaane....

The Fork

Deep metaphysical thinking alert:

I don't understand why I'm working. Other than the money. Other than the traditional, must be able to pay my own bills way.

Really, this is driving me crazy.

WHY do I do what I do? Or better, what for? Is there an ideal here, is there a goal, a personal growth target, a change the world hope, or anything? where do I see myself in 10 years? 5? What about 1?

I don't see anything.

Oh god, I'm am in such a bad mood today!

I hate coming to this fork in the road. I usually don't know what to do when I get here and I get panicky so I just turn around and walk back to where it was a bit safer.

Alas, the fork is there, and in order to move on I must face it some day.

Tired!

Today I don't feel good.
It's the type of not feel good that the best thing (and only, really) to do is just be still. I don't feel like talking it out, I feel there is nothing to talk out. It's just one of those moods and I have learned through many many many experiences that one must not try to thing logically or make any life altering decisions in these moods. So there.
It's the kind of thing that I know what each and every person will say to me, but I won't be satisfied with any comment for the truth is, I don't know how to express the problem in the first place. I just want to be still, that's it.
It's the shape of not feel good that if I told my psychiatrist he would scrunch his eyebrows and wonder where it went wrong and quickly proceed to elevate/alter doses.
I've been very tired lately, just all over, generally and all over. Tired as in no energy, tired as in worked a lot, using energy that was generated, tired as in using resources that sometimes are scarce, tired of boredom too...many kinds of tired. Backbone tired, feet tired, eyesight tired, knees tired, voice tired, ears tired, brain tired.
Want-my-drugs-tired.
I miss the rain!

Dad Here

Funny having my dad here.
Funny getting home and seeing his shirts hanging by the window and have his Flex shampoo smell in the house as soon as I walk in. It's nice, though, don't get me wrong. Funny and nice. A pleasant difference in my routine.

And funny the way it is...I wrote about psychology the last post and missing it and all that...But during class I was not missing it at all, I actually missed my baby-students. I felt nauseous and uneasy with all the Buber talk, all the therapy talk. I felt sick when the professor went on and on about existential difficulties and impossibilites, corroborating all my recent soul-seeking and questioning.

So, go figure.

The Girl With No Opinion

My head is bursting with the need to express.

I hear endless monologues inside myself to an invisible or absent audience. Or better than monologues, I hear entire lectures and speeches I give to the world and then I think, oh god, I've got to write this all down, where's a pen, where's some paper? But alas, none are to be found or, if they are, the pen stops at the first touch with the blankness. 

Suddenly it becomes too much and words so little and ridiculous.

I wanted to follow through today and see where that led me and I promised to myself that I would not under any circumstance erase everything afterwards as I do so so so so (too) many times. 

The school. The school, classes haven't even started and there's so much to say here. I am reporting as psychologist-english-speaking-student undercover spy. They all know this, but they don't actually KNOW, because the implications are undercover. I know there will be moments where someone will catch on to something that isn't quite right in the equation me being there in my position, but I my plan is just to keep them distracted and keep a low profile.

There are so many times when I just have to shut up, literally. Just be quiet, Maya, daze off, cut your little classroom decorations in silence and just go along, because there is so much I disagree with or that really bugs me in a lot of the assumptions or attitudes that go along the whole school thing. That sentence didn't even make sense but I'm not going back to correct or revise it. Let's just keep going. Kudos to you if you are able to follow. I have to shut up when I hear the English being spoken so poorly, I have to shut up when I see that the bilingual purpose isn't really present, or at least the way I understand it, or that way I LIVED it. Especially the way I lived it. I guess this isn't an EAB, I'll just have to make peace with that. Actually, I have made peace with that. It's a Brazilian school with Canadian liscence to kill and a whole lotta people speaking English. But it's not bilingual or multicultural...How can I explain? I can say this better in Portuguese -  a vivência não está lá. Speaking English for the sake of speaking English in a classroom is not bilingual education. I have no idea where I get this from, there is no conscious theory behind this, I have no idea what famous person I would have to cite, I'm just getting all this from a feeling. 

I guess it does annoy me, because I have to shut up so that people don't realize, by mere contrast, that they're just pretending something. 

But in the end, I know they're not PRETENDING per se, they genuinely believe in all that. I don't want to be the one to crush their ideal. 

Fine. So there's that about the school. And it broadens, there is so much more in my imaginary speeches and rampades. 

It goes on to include anything that includes much of an opinion. I have come to consider myself opinionless these days...not really consider, I am discovering this little fact. Which reads into: I am discovering that I am quite indifferent to many matters nowadays. I am indiffirent to many things which if said outloud sound atrocious and unhumane. But truly, the indifference lends itself to irritation which grows into a much more embedded anger and temper tantrum with the world. I don't want to give an opinion because I don't care because I am angry in fact, with all this that makes up the world, at least the one I'm living in. So really, if the whole thing went up in flames, I think I would actually feel pleasure (see, the part about atrocious and out loud thinking?)

I read some psychology texts and I feel angry. It's all theory. Theory about something that is lived. Let me explain...like when I write a paper on some issue, I feel like I'm being so fake and unauthentic, for I am having to report to a theoretical level and make reference to other people who said something on the matter to talk about something that is lived. I live something, then I have to theorize about it, and the lived gets buried under that theorizing. It sounds like madness, it feels like madness. 

I guess in this sense I am an artist at heart. I do not want to theorize, I abhore it actually, I want and need to express what is lived. That is all. I express what I live. And I need the expression to be pretty, I need it to be aesthetic to me, for then my world makes sense. The theory put on top of this removes me from what makes sense. Many times I read a text about whatever in Psychology, let's say, psychopatology or personality theory. Inevitably it happens that at one point or other I lose faith in the author or the text, for I get the gut feeling that this person has not lived what they are writing about and are talking about what they construct around the subject. For example, when writing about a patient, it drives me crazy how we are supposed to be able to describe what that person lives and interpret this based on some theory or model. IT DRIVES ME CRAZY. For as much as we can listen and listen to someone talk, and as much as the setting is set up to give as much allowance for authentic showing, WE WILL NEVER KNOW HOW TO DESCRIBE someone's life as they live it. We just can't. All we can describe is a construction that we made of what that life must be like. So, consequently, it drives me even madder that we are supposed to elaborate on this and interpret and give meaning (and values!!) to all this. What a crazy psychotic thing to do.

I feel out of myself at this moment, I literally am feeling removed from my body and I grow light-headed and faint. It feels like I'm leaning forward and almost falling, the computer is tilting in all ackward directions. But I am just here, and the computer is just here, nothing has changed.  My muscles are cramped up in my shoulders, I wasn't aware they were scrunching up like they did and I wasn't aware that I am barely seeing the screen in front of me.

I need to stop. 

Albachiara

Let's hand it over to Vasco Rossi...
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=IEj8vyNZAJI

Albachiara

Respiri piano per non far rumore

ti addormenti di sera

ti risvegli con sole

sei chiara come un'alba

sei fresca come l'aria

diventi rossa se qualcuno ti guarda

e sei fantastica quando sei assorta

nei tuoi problemi

nei tuoi pensieri

ti vesti svogliatamente

non metti mai niente che possa tirare attenzione

un particolare, solo per farti guardare

e con la faccia pulita cammini per strada

mangiando una mela

coi libri di scuola

ti piace studiare

non te ne devi vergognare

e quando guardi con quegli occhi grandi

forse un po' troppo sinceri

se vedi quello che pensi

quello che sogni

qualche volta fai pensieri strani

con una mano ti sfiori

tu sola dentro a una stanza

e tutto il mondo fuori...

tutto il mondo fuori!!

Years of ackward teenagedom came rushing back to me as I heard critique after critique of my clothes, my body, skin, hair and my glasses.

"Você é uma menina linda, mas

o MAS é uma apunhalada no peito...

mas, tem que dar um jeito nisso aqui...cabelo lindo..mas essa franja...(puta merda, as pessoas não entendem que não posso fazer nada agora, ela tem que crescer?!?)

mas, e esses óculos?

mas, a pele...

mas, essa blusa velha, não dá!

Eu sei que nem todo mundo tem que ter a sensibilidade de saber que já passei muitos anos da minha vida sobre-peso, com as roupas "erradas" e fora da moda, escondida e criticada pela minha mãe, desesperada para ter uma filha "bonita" e "normal". Que parasse de ler um pouco. Que dançasse um samba.

Depois de um tempo parei de ler quase totalmente. Aquele ano de 2007 em que parte da minha alma foi sugada e leitura era impossível. Em 2009 dancei um samba...parei...mas enfim estava em um lugar que ninguém falava muito mais do peso, do cabelo, o jeito, do assim e assado. Da pele talvez sim, essa nunca deu  muita trégua.

Ai nesses últimos meses pensei em me resgatar um pouco...claro que haveria conseqüências, não posso dizer que estou surpresa.

Today just wasn't my day again.

Um grito ao mundo

O mundo realmente me assusta a maior parte das vezes.
Acho que o susto tá sendo tão grande que não consigo superar com a segurança.
Que pena, que pena, eu digo.
Eu tenho medo desse mundo onde há um enorme esforço para se esconder da própria humanidade, onde muitos agem pela insegurança, mas alguns transformam isso em arrogância desumana e trata os outros desse modo, outros o transformam em medo e receio do mundo e outros (poucos) em humildade pacífica. Tipo, Jesus Cristo.

Dá vontade de gritar pra todos ouvirem: Alooow, não estamos todos nessa? Não temos todos os mesmos medos? O que estamos fazendo então, nos machucando (a nós mesmos e aos outros).

Putz.
É isso.
Aaaaaaaaaaah!

Angry

I need to talk about how angry I am, otherwise, I fear I'll explode.

First and foremost, I'll state that I am angry at myself for feeling so out of control and so hostile.  
And then I'll procede to apologize in advance if any of this ranting gets to you.
And then I'll say, this is my post and I should be able to talk about whatever I want. 

I'm angry at my mother. There, I said it. Cliché, but whatever. I'm very angry at her, years of anger that bubble up in seconds of apparent trivialities. I'm angry at her tired looks, her exhaustion, her always making excuses for her tiredness and exhaustion and for all the years she couldn't "be there" because of everything. EVERYTHING. What everything, mom? Oh, I don't know, I'm too tired to talk about it, just need to sleep. Angry at her naps, her neverending naps. Angry at how she gets annoyed at me or at the world every time she does groceries because nobody EVER does them, only her, yet I keep myself from yelling, yes, but who did them the last hundred times?? And who's house is it supposed to be anyway? Yes, I know, I am 24 and perfectly capable of doing the groceries, but I told you, this is a product of years of broiling.

I want to be an adult but away from here. Here I feel like an eternal 13 years old, ackward between her still childness protection and need for care and her newfound responsabilities.  I put away the groceries today dreaming of the time I had my own little apartment for 3 months and did my own groceries and cooked my own food and it all felt good and natural, not bitter and hostile. 

I'm angry at how she doesn't know me at all, how she doesn't care to know me. I'm angry at how, when she does try to ask about something, I respond curtly, acid spilling out of my mouth. It's like I won't give her the chance anymore, and I feel like a horrible person. 

I'm angry that my self-esteem is stuck in this rut and how the more I feel this way, the more it becomes true. I'm angry that I'm so scared to tell anyone how little I think of myself, because I'm scared they'll see it too and walk away. I'm angry because I know it's not true but it feels true. 

I'm angry at myself for the vicious circles.

I'm angry at myself for getting lost in a maze somewhere that took me away from wanting to be a Psychologist. For not paying attention. I don't know what happened and I can only say it's my fault, for what else could it be?  I'm angry at myself for all the self-pitying and self-loathing. AND for being angry at myself. For Pete's sake!!

I'm tired, so much anger drains me. But when I get tired I sound like my mom and that makes me furious. When I pinch my fingers at the beginning of my nose, between my eyes and sigh, I catch myself and want to die, for that is her favorite tired pose. 

I wonder if she's angry at us for making her so tired. I wonder if she's angry at herself for being angry at us.

WRONG

Hora de dormir e estou com medo...na verdade, o dia inteiro senti medo dessa hora. A pressão voltou, a pressão ensurdecedora. Tive tanto medo que nem quis ver quem me ama e quem amo por medo de fazer mal, só de estar perto de mim. 


Ontem. Deitei. Apaguei a luz.
Rolled one way, then the other.
É só questão de tempo, vira aqui, vira ali....
Fique quieta!
E sim, questão de tempo
Bem rapidinhos, eles têm sido.
Voosh to the brain. Voosh to the images and thoughts and sayings.
Nítidos e sufocantes.
Vocês são insuportáveis e respeitáveis. 
Peguei o objeto cintilante, peguei firme nele e vocês sorriram.
Olhei e pedi a deus, ajuda. Aí soube o que fazer.
Sem sorrir entreguei a quem pode cuidar.
Voltei ao centro espírita onde cuidaram de mim com tanto amor a outra semana, onde me passaram tantos recados importantes e acreditei:
Vocês estão aí, como disseram, então toma isso daqui e me proteja. Peque essa cintilação e escondam de mim. 
Se eu pedir, que esteja com vocês e não com eles, vocês terão prudência e carinho. 
Eu não quero me cortar. Nem me machucar. Não quero querer isso.
Não quero machucar ninguém.
Mas então, mas então, por favor.
Por favor, alguém me explique então, porque quero? Porque querem?
Entreguei a maldita faca sem sentido e disse, cuidem.
Logo em seguida, dormi. 


A solução é sempre essa. Dorme - amanhã você vê. Assim vou levando muitas coisas e outras coisas vão sumindo e acalmando. Se extinguem. Não sei, não sei, não haverá uma grande conclusão nem grandes dizeres. Hoje me exauriu.
Posso fazer o mesmo comigo mesma igual que fiz com a faca? 
Olha só, me entrego a vocês, cuidem. Cansei.


Me contaram esses dias da crença indiana de que temos 3 fases na vida...na primeira somos cuidados, na segunda cuidamos de quem nos cuidou e também dos que geramos....na terceira somos cuidados pela sociedade e acabam os deveres familiares. 
Cuidados, palavra que mexe comigo.
Fiquei pensando...Se alguém cuida e é cuidado ao mesmo tempo na primeira fase, não fica com um pouco de crédito na segunda para continuar a ser cuidado? 
Talvez não me sinta tão culpada então de pedir.
I feel completely WRONG today. All wrong. All wrong and inside out and topsy turvey. It scared the hell out of me. Who am I kidding, I have no idea what I'm doing and what's going on. Sometimes I believe that I do, and I probably do, but then days like this come along and it turns around on me. And in the same way I can believe and KNOW what I'm about, in the same old way, I go and NOT KNOW a damn thing. It fades away and I feel cheated by myself. 
When days like these come along, I feel angry, unreliable, fickle, stupid, little and scared. Have I mentioned scared? Lots of memories come knock at the door of people and pains I wish were behind me and I really thought were behind me. Where do they come from? Go away. Wasn't I doing things right and prettifully? wrong! or right? or what?


And it so might happen that tomorrow I might wake up and feel like erasing this in shame, hoping nobody read it because - what was I thinking?
That is very likely and possible and also drives me crazy. What can I write then, what should I write? It already feels embarassing and I still feel what I wrote, imagine when it's not as clear?
Afff, like all the rest, this post feels all wrong too.
Good night!

Oh let's get rich!

Oh let's get rich and buy our parents homes in the south of France

Let's get rich and buy everybody nice sweaters and teach'em how to dance!

Let' get rich and build a house on a mountain making everybody look like ants

way up there, you and I, you and I. (Ingrid Michaelson)

Listen here: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=OvMVCHhwTPs


I feel overwhelmed with the amount of doctors/treatments I'm supposed to be (not) seeing/(not) doing. 
First of all, my mother's eternal battle and push and shove for the Dermatologist-God. "Você não vai não? Vai minha filha, vai...você é tão bonita com esse rosto assim...vai por mim, vc não vai querer ter 50 anos e um rosto esburacado e pensando "eu devia ter ido quando era jovem""!  MEDO. Além da chantagem emocional que está implicada ai...
Then there's the neurologist/acupunturist/therapist/general clinician for blood work. I don't have the faintest idea of where to start and the slightest motivation to get informed. It's just too much. People pro medicine, people wary of medicine, people pro acupuncturists, people who defend neurologists, people with horrible neurologist experiences, people who don't care about my pimples and my mom who scrutinizes every inch of skin (and me, scared of being a hideous 50 year old). Pills for this, pills for that, pills for getting off pills, pills to help with side-effects of other pills, pills that don't allow themselves short-term usage, why not, why not, why not...? stuck. And really, in the end, it's all an experiment because nobody's sure of anything. Just dandy!


What about...
I dream of getting out of here and out of the symmetrical roads and avenues that make up this city and going you know where.
I dream of leaving behind the psychiatrist and the hundreds spent on that each month, dream of having this be just a bad dream and not 7 years of drug polemics. Start over. Give my body a new chance to try again in its purity. 
Dream of speaking/living/breathing another language, working somewhere I could have never imagined (and therefore never feared) and taking subways and buses with that liberating feeling of independence that so makes me glow. 
Let's get rich and go to Italy! Now we're talking...


Well you might be a bit confused
And you might be a little bit bruised
But baby how we spoon like no one else
So I will help you read those books
If you will soothe my worried looks
And we will put the lonesome on the shelf!