Say the Word

Trigger warning: Discussion of miscarriage and pregnancy.

***

It's hard to believe it's already been a year since I "went public" about my September 2018 miscarriage, but it's true - once again it's October 15, Pregnancy Loss Remembrance Day. And while this one obviously feels different from the last - thanks both to the passage of time, which dulls all grief, and to the fact that this year I'm pregnant with a healthy pregnancy - I do still have some things to say about pregnancy loss, and my experience in the months that followed mine. Today seemed an appropriate day to share those thoughts.

Throughout the fall and winter immediately following my miscarriage, I had a lot of people reaching out and checking in with me, throughout my Facebook post, my blog, private social media messages, texts, emails, snail mail cards, phone calls, and in-person conversations. These efforts made me feel loved, listened to, and so lucky to be surrounded by such a wonderful support system.

And yet, there was something about many of those interactions that I found curious (and, if I'm honest, a little annoying at times) - something I hesitate to bring up for fear of seeming ungrateful:

People really don't like using the words "miscarriage"* or "pregnancy loss." In fact, they often go frustratingly out of their way to avoid them, using all sorts of superfluous and downright mystifying phrases instead.

Over those several months, I heard my miscarriage referred to as - and this is a non-exhaustive list - "that time" and "last fall" (as if autumn is inherently a challenging time of year), "the pain and difficulty you went through," "that thing that happened to you, which I read about on your blog," and even the ultra-vague "recent events." (That last one particularly confused me, as it was said to me in February - an entire five months after my miscarriage. If it weren't for other context clues, I wouldn't have had any idea what they were referring to.)

Then there were other people who just trailed off in the middle of a sentence, unable to think of a synonym for the word they were desperate to avoid: "How have you been doing since...?" or "I know someone else who also had a... you know..."

It was hard to ignore the pattern, and it was hard not to take it a bit personally. When it happens time and time again, with a dozen different people, you begin to wonder: Is it something about me? Are they pitying me? Do they think I'm "too fragile" to hear them use the actual word? It's not a great feeling.

At the very least, their avoidance signaled to me that they were uneasy talking about it - and that put me in a bit of an awkward position. Whether they were asking me how I was doing because they felt socially obligated to, or because they genuinely wanted to know, they hardly encouraged me to give them an honest answer or start up a lengthier conversation when the topic appeared to make them so uncomfortable. I often ended up giving the answer it seemed they wanted to hear ("I'm doing fine, thanks for asking") and leaving it at that. They got to feel good about reaching out, but I ended up feeling rather alone.

(This isn't to say I needed or wanted to talk about my miscarriage all the time; I usually didn't. But there were times when I would've liked to know the option was there if I wanted to talk, and when people refused to call my miscarriage a miscarriage, it felt like it took away the option.)

I noticed this tendency to avoid the label more in people who hadn't experienced their own miscarriage. Some couples who've been through pregnancy loss of their own also avoid using the word of course (and in a society that still sees the topic as taboo, and frequently discourages showing vulnerability, it's no wonder), and there were certainly those who hadn't been through a miscarriage who were still willing to use the terminology. But more often than not, I realized that if someone was unafraid to use the word in front of me, it was because they'd been there. They knew what it was called; they knew what they called theirs. What's more, they knew that refusing to label an event does nothing to change the event itself - and that embracing the label can actually be incredibly empowering.

It reminds me (as so many things do, let's be honest) of the Harry Potter books. As soon as Harry learns about his parents' death in Book 1, after ten years of being denied the truth surrounding that night, his instinct is to refer to it every time thereafter as what it really was - murder at the hands of Voldemort - even while that decision shocks everyone around him.

"You said You-Know-Who's name!" said Ron, sounding both shocked and impressed. "I'd have thought you, of all people - "

"I'm not trying to be brave or anything, saying the name," said Harry. "I just never knew you shouldn't."

Except that Harry did know - Hagrid had already told Harry that most wizards call Voldemort "You-Know-Who" or "He Who Must Not Be Named." And as the book continues, Ron has to repeatedly ask Harry to stop saying Voldemort - because Harry keeps doing it, despite Hagrid's explanations and Ron's protests. At 11 years old, Harry hardly has the words to describe why he feels the need to do this (and J.K. Rowling doesn't come out and say it either), but I think it's because to say anything else, or to avoid speaking Voldemort's name out loud, would feel dishonest and dishonoring to both his parents and his own journey of grief. He was mad that the truth about his parents' deaths had been hidden from him for so long, and now that he knew what had really happened, he wasn't going to go back to lies, omissions, or spreading misinformation. In any case, at the end of the book, Harry's choice (and mine) is vindicated when Dumbledore tells him, "Always use the proper names for things. Fear of a name increases fear of the thing itself."

As I've said in previous posts, one of the best ways to grapple with trauma is to take ownership of it - to take something that happened to you, and make it happen for you instead. The first step in this process of moving on is often getting past denial by naming and defining your experience. Using the appropriate, Google-able terms furthermore gives you access to information about what to expect (a great help in reducing fear of the unknown), and connects you with others who've gone through something similar (paramount to helping you feel less alone in your experience and provide you with a useful support system).

On the various "What to Expect When You're Expecting" miscarriage/pregnancy loss boards, and similar boards on other apps and online forums, accurate labels are in fact so common that shorthands are used instead. MC = miscarriage, MMC = missed miscarriage, CP = chemical pregnancy, EP = ectopic pregnancy, MP = molar pregnancy, BO = blighted ovum, etc. Spend any amount of time on those boards, and you quickly figure out what all those abbreviations mean.

Granted, all of those posters are on there because they want/need a space to talk about it - and there are many who experience pregnancy loss and don't want to talk about it at all - but isn't it telling that of those eager to share their experiences, none of them choose to talk about it in euphemisms? We know the deeper truth: it happened, regardless of what creative phrase you come up with to describe it - so you might as well just call it what it is. To do otherwise just compounds unnecessary confusion and misunderstanding at best - or perpetuated fear, shame, oppression, and isolation at worst.

My doctors, too, never beat around the bush - I assume from some combination of not having time or tolerance for euphemisms. My medical chart says everything: in between comments about my high-risk status due to my diabetes, there are phrases like "incomplete abortion" (the medical term for missed miscarriage) and "multigravida" (meaning that I've had more than one pregnancy). And so, every time I saw a new doctor (or one I hadn't seen in awhile, since the start of this pregnancy), the doctor would both congratulate me on my new pregnancy and acknowledge that my first had ended in loss: "We're so glad to see you back here with a healthy pregnancy!" or "That first one was just a fluke; I hope you aren't worried. Everything looks great this time!" During an appointment early in my second trimester, when a doctor was trying to find my baby's heartbeat with a Doppler wand and having a bit of difficulty, he apologized. "I know it's hard when we can't find it right away for you, after everything you've been through. But babies just hide sometimes! I'm sure I'll find their heartbeat in a minute - ah look, there it is! Strong and healthy, at 150 beats per minute."

I assumed the people who took great pains to circumnavigate the words "miscarriage" or "pregnancy loss" in my presence meant well. They likely did it because they were afraid of offending, embarrassing, or upsetting me, or because they themselves found the words offensive, embarrassing, or upsetting to say. I don't think they did it to purposefully incite shame. But when they treated those words as if they were potentially offensive or embarrassing, that's exactly what they were doing, wasn't it? Even if they didn't mean to. They were treating my miscarriage like something I should be ashamed of, something I should take offense to others knowing about and acknowledging, something that shouldn't be said out loud.

There are a whole bunch of other words like miscarriage: rape, assault, depression, suicide. They are things that our society is afraid of and uncomfortable with, and words that erroneously have connotations of blame attached. We all want to believe that there's a reason these things happen, and ways of preventing them - and the easiest way to do that is by blaming the person it most affects. (And for trauma like rape and pregnancy loss that disproportionally affect women, this impulse is all the more frequent.) But the truth is, acts of violence can happen at any time to anybody, regardless of what that person does; mental illnesses and other chronic disorders affect otherwise healthy people indiscriminately and unpredictably; and miscarriages, which occur in at least 1 in 4 pregnancies, are nearly always just a matter of horribly bad luck. These are not things that can be prevented, as much as we wish they were, and they are not things we should let anyone feel ashamed of.

If someone says they're on medication for the treatment of their depression (or anxiety or bipolar disorder or OCD or anything else), don't call it their "condition," implying that it's some nebulous, vague, unknowable disease - use the label that they and their doctors and therapists use. And if someone has publicly proclaimed that they were raped or sexually assaulted (as so many have in this era of #MeToo), don't try to find another phrase to use instead ("nonconsensual sex," "forced sex," "taken advantage of," etc.) - use the words they use: "rape" and "assault." To do anything less is to disempower the survivor who has chosen to use that word to describe their experience.

This isn't Victorian times anymore. It doesn't do anybody any good to force these topics or words into secrecy.

Of course, I'd be remiss if I didn't admit my own faults. There were times when I wanted to use the word "miscarriage" (or at least obliquely refer to mine, even without using the word), but shied away from doing so... As I've found with so many things that open us up to vulnerability, it's easier to write it in a blog post than it is to say it out loud.

My impulse to mention my first pregnancy didn't go away once I was pregnant for the second time - in fact, it was something I often wanted to do during those first few weeks. It felt weird to me to tell people I was pregnant without acknowledging what I'd been through; I always wanted to tack on the word "again": "I'm pregnant again!" I was also frequently compelled to compare my two experiences - how did my symptoms this time stack up to what I'd felt during my first pregnancy? But I did my best to curb those impulses and keep such observations mostly to myself - even while doing so felt like lies of omission and hypocrisy, perpetuating shame and stigma just as I accused others of doing.

I was worried what others might think of me if I kept bringing up my miscarriage. Would they be concerned or even disappointed in me, that even when I was getting a second chance at pregnancy I was still "complaining" about what had happened the first time? Would they think I was somehow doing a disservice to my unborn child by refusing to let them be their own person, with their own pregnancy, untainted by what I'd experienced previously? And what if someone heard me say these things who had experienced more than one miscarriage, or someone who struggled with infertility, and was still waiting for their rainbow baby, or their first positive pregnancy test to arrive - would I come across as ungrateful, would my words spark jealousy in their hearts? I knew how difficult it could be to hear about someone else's pregnancy when you were hoping and trying so hard for your own, and I didn't want to inadvertently cause anyone else that sort of pain.

I was also worried about making other people uneasy by reminding them, in the same breath as telling them my happy news, that life also brings loss sometimes. This acknowledgement did not temper my own excitement - I would argue that knowing the worst that could happen and holding that concurrently with my hopes and dreams for my new pregnancy actually made me appreciate and value my pregnancy even more. But I was worried that others might not feel the same way I did, and think me adding that "again" to the end of "I'm pregnant!" was in poor taste.

I'm trying to be better. I'm trying to care less what others think of me, and to feel less responsible for the reactions that others might have to the things I say and do. I'm trying to prioritize myself, and say the things I want to say (even if for now that means mostly just posting them on here). I want to be a role model for my future child(ren), and exemplify the traits of self-confidence, honesty, authenticity, and openness to vulnerability that I so value and admire when I see them in others.

I hope anyone reading this post will try to be better, too. And if, in the meantime, the best you can do is ask someone "How are you doing since...?" - at least that's something. In the end, I was always touched when someone took the time to contact me, and - as stated before - felt extremely grateful that so many did.

I'd much rather someone reach out clumsily than not at all.



***

*To be fair, there is some debate about the appropriateness of the term "miscarriage" - given that when you break it down into its components ("mis" and "carry") it seems to put blame on the one who was carrying the baby-to-be in their womb. Still, I think it's safe to say that if someone uses the word "miscarriage" to talk about their experience, you can assume they aren't offended by the term, and feel free to use that word yourself when talking to them about it. If you do want to avoid that particular word, "pregnancy loss" (or even just "loss") is a good substitute.

Personally, I find "pregnancy loss" to be both a more and less accurate description of my experience - it feels more accurate, in that I quite literally lost a pregnancy, and certainly didn't incorrectly carry the child I was hoping to have; it feels less accurate in that "pregnancy loss" is an umbrella term that encompasses stillbirths (losses after the 20 week mark) as well as miscarriages (losses before the 20 week mark), and I feel a bit like a fraud when lumping in my experience with others who quite literally labored and birthed a baby who may have even breathed outside the womb for a few short minutes or hours, and whom they may have had the chance to hold, however temporarily, in their arms as well as in their wombs and hearts. So while I do use both "miscarriage" and "pregnancy loss" interchangeably, I tend to default to "miscarriage" more often - just to avoid that constant internal debate with myself. (Not to mention that "pregnancy loss" just sounds clunkier in everyday conversation.)

To put an even finer point on it, I use other terms as well... I use "my miscarriage" or "my pregnancy loss" to refer generally to the weeks-long process of noting diminishing pregnancy symptoms, learning at my 8-week ultrasound that my baby had stopped growing, getting a D&C six days later, and the weeks of physical and emotional recovery that followed. But sometimes it's more convenient to reference a specific date rather than an entire process - and when that's the case (as it often was when we were trying to conceive again), I chose September 13 and called it "my D&C" (e.g. "this is my Nth menstrual cycle since my D&C"). More often, I think of the entire pregnancy, not just the end of it (and sometimes not the end of it at all), and I refer to it as "my first pregnancy" or "my last pregnancy" ("last" meaning previous, not final). Even when I was not yet pregnant again, I always used one of those qualifiers; trying to conceive requires a certain optimism and forwardness of perspective that assumes another pregnancy is just around the corner, if not already begun.

I don't care which of those terms you use with me - miscarriage, loss, pregnancy loss, your first pregnancy, etc. All of them are true, better than the verbose "that painful, difficult thing that happened to you last fall, which I read about on your blog," and refreshing to hear.

And if you're not sure what someone else wants their experience to be called - ASK THEM! I know it can be awkward and nerve-wracking, but if you want others to feel safe enough to be emotionally vulnerable around you and tell you how they're feeling, you might just have to be emotionally vulnerable around them, too. :)

Personal Values

A couple years ago, I took the time to think about and explicitly define my personal values. Not other people's values, or what society as a whole seems to value, or even what I wanted to value - but the things I naturally, innately valued: the things I've been prioritizing and living my life according to all along (or trying to prioritize and live my life according to), without even realizing it.

Now, "innate" doesn't mean these things are easy for me to prioritize - on the contrary, there were many times in my life when these values were incredibly difficult to believe in at all, let alone base my behaviors on. But it is precisely this - that these beliefs and behaviors would persist even when it would've been easier to forget them or change - that helped convince me they were my core values after all. These are things that some part of me has always believed, even when other parts of me were actively resisting and trying not to.

Maybe it seems odd to put in the effort of putting my values into words, when on some subconscious level I already knew what they were. I find it helpful, though - not only for my personal edification and trying to better understand myself, but also to use as a tool in times of stress. So often when I feel stressed, it's because I've started listening to other people instead of myself. I've forgotten what I usually or innately prioritize, or even somehow talked myself into trying to change those priorities to look like something else - something decidedly not me. Referring to my list of personal values in these moments can help me identify which of my values I've been neglecting and help me refocus my priorities. Other times, I'm stressed because my current situation is making it difficult for me to live according to my values, which is upsetting and frustrating. In this case, too, referring to my list of personal values is helpful, because it illuminates which of my values are currently threatened, which in turn helps me figure out how to find another way to fulfill those values despite my circumstances. 

Today I'd like to share my list of values with you. Some may look familiar, being values you also have; others might be completely foreign and not something you'd at all agree with. I'm not passing judgment on these values as inherently superior to anyone else's - these just happen to be the values I've inherited or cultivated over the years and which now truly feel like a part of me, woven into my very essence. It took lots of self-reflection, recalling countless memories, and going through old journals, researching and collecting evidence from my own life, to come up with this list - and I still occasionally revise it from time to time. It's not set it stone; it's a living document, and it changes as I continue living. 

There are seven values altogether, divided into two broader categories. Under each value, I've also written "I will" statements, to give myself examples and encouragement for how I can live my life according to that particular value. These statements are meant as inspiration, and are not indicative of how I always think or behave... but I do have several examples of times in my life where I have done those things, which I read both to remind myself what I'm capable of, and to remind myself that these really are my values, and have always, on some level, been my values. (After all, if they weren't my values, I wouldn't have this pattern of past behaviors which seems to reflect them.) I've also included some of those examples here, underneath the main list of values - quotes from my private journals and private/public blogs.

**

My values:

A. I am self-sufficient and I have self-worth.

1. I know what I want, and recognize if I'm not getting it. If I am not provided with what I want, I work toward it by myself, for myself.

• I will allow myself to need things, want things, and hope for things, and I will practice recognizing what I need, want, and hope.

• If I need something from someone else, I will speak up and fight for what I need.

• If I want to learn something or do something or have something or participate in something, I will find a way to do it or ask for it (in the best way I know how at the time).

• I will continue to set personal, creative, intellectual, emotional, and physical goals, which represent accomplishments that are personal priorities for me; and I will continue to pursue these goals, for myself.

2. I believe I am worthy and deserving of being treated with respect and kindness. I put a lot of energy into empathizing and trying to understand others, and I get upset when I don't get this kindness and understanding in return that I know I deserve.

• I will choose to surround myself with people who give me that kindness and respect.

• If someone repeatedly denies me the respect and kindness I deserve, I will not allow them to play a significant role in my life.

B. I cherish the things that make me human and I value the time nurturing these pursuits.

3. I value my intellect and stretching and nurturing my knowledge and understanding of the world.

• I will continue to take classes, learn new things, read books, do research, flex my "insight" muscles, make connections, and develop my own way of understanding the world.

• I will immerse myself in these intellectual pursuits for myself, researching and exploring the topics that are interesting or meaningful to me.

• I will take pride in the personal language and metaphors I create and use to describe my unique understanding of the world.

4. I like trying to understand myself and trying to understand other people. I practice compassion, kindness, and empathy towards others. I like connecting with others (especially on a deeper, emotional level) and feeling like a part of the web of humanity.

• I will prioritize tending my emotions, journaling, chronicling and revisiting my memories, writing and rewriting my life's narrative, defining my personal values, and establishing my self-identity.

• I will seek out and experience others' creative outputs/understandings of humanity by reading fiction and nonfiction, listening to music, watching television shows or movies, attending theater productions, visiting museums, and contemplating visual artwork.

• I will strengthen the relationships I have with the kind, respectful people in my life by initiating or participating in heartfelt, honest conversations.

• I will pursue friendships and find meaningful ways of connecting with new people.

5. I am emotional - and I value my emotions and my ability to demonstrate them. I use multiple different avenues to feel, and to express and share my feelings and opinions with others. I believe that my feelings and opinions are worth sharing with others, because I have a unique voice and insights to offer the world.

• I will acknowledge the emotions I have, and not shame myself for feeling or expressing them.

• I will allow myself to cry, and to stop crying, to feel emotion every day, and revisit the same emotions over and over.

• I will listen to or watch media that encourage me to feel.

• I will allow myself to express my emotions in front of the trustworthy people closest to me.

• I will write, draw, and paint with the specific intent to share my thoughts or feelings with others. I will craft my message carefully and pointedly, with honesty, heartfelt emotion, and eager vulnerability. And I will work to share these insightful creations with others.

6. I value my creativity and exploring artistic pursuits.

• I will create spontaneous art and writing for myself, giving myself permission to use art and creative writing as a personal relaxation or therapeutic technique, or to simply enjoy the aspects of creation, making a mess, and working intuitively without forethought or concern with the art/writing's marketability or message.

• I will learn new artistic or writing techniques and familiarize myself with new artistic materials, both on my own as a method of play and in a more formal classroom/group setting, to expand my horizons, embrace the process of art-making and writing, connect with others who have similar interests, and have fun.

7. I am independent, inquisitive, adventurous, and brave. I like trying new things and forging my own path. I like exploring my environment and exploring new places. I want to experience everything. I want to take advantage of opportunities, and to be able to say I really lived my life.

• I will prioritize traveling, exposing myself to new environments and new opportunities to see and experience the world.

• I will chronicle my experiences through photography and journaling to remind myself of all the place I've been/things I've done.

• I will strike out on my own to try new and potentially scary things.

• If there is something I want to try, I will not let being alone in this desire, fear of what others might think of me, or others' risk aversion hold me back.

• If there is something I want to do that is not organically presented to me, I will seek out and cultivate these opportunities myself.

**

Category B was easier for me to pinpoint - they are characteristics about myself I have been more likely to embrace throughout my life, values that were less "hidden" from me. I wanted to take as many classes as I could, in high school and college both, trying to balance my love of learning about a wide range of topics with my specific passions of art and writing. When time or scheduling restraints preventing me from doing everything I wanted to, I prioritized learning, writing, or creating art in my spare time as well. And even when my emotions and experiences were invalidated or written off by others, I persisted over the years in writing on Livejournal, Facebook, and various blogs, because I believed my feelings and opinions were worth sharing with others (whether a select group of trustworthy friends, strangers, or some combination thereof). I've always loved making deep, emotional connections with others - whether in person or online or with fictional characters - and feeling like a part of the web of humanity.

• From 11/18/2005: "I'm disappointed already because our high school has some really cool classes that I never had time to take... just wait until I graduate college. I want to take ALL the classes!"

• From 4/2/2006: "There's something almost cathartic about hanging out backstage with theater people. All that energy and excitement. Now that the show is over, I'll miss the sense of community. It never ceases to amaze me how everyone can bond so quickly in just a couple of weeks. I love it."

• From 6/29/2006: "Even if not professionally, I hope to always draw and write, just for my own benefit. Art is something to look forward to, something to work at, something to accomplish, something to be proud of. Honestly, I can't imagine my life without drawing of some sort, even if it's just doodling cartoons, because drawing has been a part of me for so long."

• From 8/15/2006: "Things that make me smile: crazy dreams, writing something good, drawing something good, buying school supplies, and embarking on new academic adventures."

• From 1/5/2007: "It makes me a little sad, to lose something that was such a large part of my life, but in the end I think it tore me away from people more than it brought me closer to them. It kept me from understanding certain things or empathizing with people by hardening my heart to those who were different from me, and that's not something I'm okay with."

• From 9/15/2007: "I want to witness stories and empathize with people. But I can't be that kind of person easily - because I've conditioned myself to often be emotionally detached, telling myself that emotion is weakness. So just because connecting with other people is something I genuinely want to do does not mean it's something I'm always able to do - and knowing that, admitting that, makes me feel so sad and overwhelmed."

• From 12/5/2007: "My art history paper had to be 15 pages long; mine is 28. I just got so excited to do the research and got really interested in it!"

• From 3/14/2008: "Oh well. It doesn't mean I won't read and write in my spare time, even if I can't fit English and Creative Writing classes into my schedule."

• From 9/3/2008: "I want art to just take me in any and every direction it can; I don't want to limit myself to one thing. I want to have a concentration in everything."

• From 11/1/2010: "I really don't want to settle for a job I don't want, when I believe I'm capable of better things and know how important growing and challenging myself are to me."

• From 5/9/2011: "I want to nurture my authenticity - that is, being true to myself and doing what I really want to do. I want to do at least one authentic thing a day - one thing I do just for myself, just because I want to, because it's who I am."

Category A, however, was not something I initially included in my list of values at all. I knew that I wanted to believe I was self-sufficient and had self-worth - but I didn't think that I already believed those things, just that they were beliefs I was trying to acquire, in order to raise my low self-esteem. If you've ever tried to convince yourself to believe something, you know that it's a daunting task - raising my low self-esteem therefore seemed to require Herculean effort. How was I supposed to convince myself to believe I was capable of seeing myself as worthy and deserving of kindness and respect, or practice recognizing what I wanted and working toward such goals, if I'd spent so many years doing exactly the opposite?

But then I noticed something, reading through old journals. Whenever I wasn't treated with respect and kindness, I got angry and upset. I wouldn't have felt that way if I truly believed I didn't deserve those things. 

• From 9/26/2005: "What about me? Can't I be happy too? I deserve more than what I've been getting lately."

• From 5/17/2006: "I'm trying not to be bitter, I really am. But I guess I still can't help but feel that all my hard work has gone unnoticed or unacknowledged."

• From 10/1/2006: "I would never have said that to them, because I would never want to hurt them. Did they not even think about how this might make me feel?"

• From 7/16/2007: "I don't think you realize how much it hurts when you treat me this way - or else why would you continue, if you knew how much it kills me? What do you hope to gain? There is only so much I can take before I just can't bottle up my feelings anymore."

What's more - when I understood (even on a subconscious level) that I was lacking something important, I tried to do something about it. Even if it turned out to be a dysfunctional coping mechanism in the end, it was still an attempt to provide myself with what I needed, with whatever resources I had to work with or understanding I had about the situation at the time.

This went for showing myself respect and kindness, too. I wanted to be nicer to myself, to stop self-abusing, and learn how to have better self-esteem. It was a cycle I got stuck in often in middle school, high school, college, and even after - being critical and awful to myself, and then vowing to be better.

• From 2003: "I guess I'm stuck being me. Maybe one day that'll make me happy. Maybe one day I'll be proud of myself. But for now I guess I'm here, hoping that maybe that 'one day' is near."

• From 2004: "I'm sick of beating myself up. I'm tired of being a perfectionist. I try too hard. I care too much. Enough is enough."

• From 12/31/2005: "I will work on being happier, especially with myself. I need more self-confidence."

• From 11/7/2006: "I am too critical of myself. I want to be nicer to myself."

• From 12/27/2008: "I wish I'd done less over-analyzing things, disliking myself, and stressing out in 2008. I'm still learning how to stop judging myself so harshly, but I'll get there."

• From 1/8/2011: "I love the rare times I believe in myself (though I bet I'd like them even more if they were less rare)."

It was eye-opening to discover how many of those entries there were in my journals over the years - and a relief. It meant that, while a part of me had spent years (decades) being overly critical and abusive to myself, there was always some part of me who stubbornly persisted on seeing my self-worth. It meant that I didn't have to teach myself from scratch how to value myself after all - just that I had to cultivate that part of me that already existed. It felt like less of a Sisyphean struggle after that; it felt like a cycle I could actually escape.

And so I included those Category A statements in my list of personal values as well - and it was those more than the ones about creating art or writing blog posts or learning new things that I'm really talking about when I said earlier that it was important and helpful to me to take the time to put those values down into words. Those are the values I haven't always let myself believe in, the values that haven't come easily to me - but things I kept trying to believe anyway, even while other parts of me were actively resisting.

As I mentioned at the beginning of this post, it's been a couple years now since writing these values down and firmly asserting to myself, without a shadow of a doubt, that these are statements I actually believe, and have always believed. I'd been slowly growing more comfortable with myself and allowing myself to cultivate my self-esteem anyway, but writing down this list made those pursuits even easier. I can honestly say that I've never felt more content with and proud of myself than I have in recent years. I've had moments of pride before, of course - but they often grew from someone else being proud of me for something I'd accomplished. They were moments of external validation that I'd internalized, rather than internal validation that persisted no matter what tangible things I was accomplishing, what goals I was seeing to completion, or what others might be thinking of me. 

It has been a profound help, and a great relief, to discover my authentic self and allow myself to value what I innately want to value. This doesn't mean that I never care what others think of me - but it does mean I can more easily find my sense of self-worth again anytime I temporarily lose it.

Entitlement

I recently took the time to compile a list of things I'm entitled to - just by virtue of being human - because I thought it would be constructive for me to consciously remind myself of my self-worth and create a list I could refer back to again and again. 

In the past, I have often found it easier to accept that others deserve these things - if anyone else tried to argue that they didn't, I would protest; and yet when I heard the same self-deprecating arguments from myself, I accepted them without question. But I'm trying to make an effort to treat myself just as kindly as I treat others, so if there was something I believed that others deserved, I made sure to include it on my list - because if they deserved it, then so must I.

Some of the things are specific to personal struggles, worded in such a way to target the things I have the most difficulty believing I deserve. Others are more vague and could apply to many different areas of someone's life. Many of them I borrowed verbatim from similar lists I found on the internet, while others were slightly or greatly reworded to better fit my needs. A few I came up with all on my own.

Still, even though this list is somewhat tailored to my own life, this is not just a list of things I deserve, but a list of things everyone deserves. As such, I thought I would share it publicly in case anyone else could also use the reminder.  

These are NOT things that are earned. Whether we're old or young; whether we're rich or poor; whether we're male or female or non-binary; whether we're in a relationship with one person or many people, with someone of a different gender or the same gender, or in no relationship whatsoever; whether or not we score high on tests or accomplish arbitrary goals; whether or not we're able-bodied or traditionally attractive; whether or not we ascribe to a certain religion, or any religion at all - we don't have to do anything or be anything to deserve the unalienable rights I have listed below. 

I am entitled:

• To exist.
• To be shown the same level of kindness and respect that I show others.
• To form my own opinions.
• To share my opinions.
• To not share my opinions.
• To choose what I share with other people.
• To value my privacy.
• To select the people I want to spend time with.
• To avoid the people I don't want to spend time with.
• To cleanse my life of people who don't show me the respect and kindness I deserve.
• To have the amount of connection with my friends and family that is healthy and positive for me.
• To change my opinion about someone, or change how I interact with them, depending on what I need or want, or what I can handle, at any given time.
• To extricate myself from situations that make me uncomfortable.
• To refuse to do things I don't want to do or go places I don't want to go.
• To choose whether or not to forgive someone.
• To desire things.
• To need things.
• To consume things.
• To appreciate things.
• To dislike things.
• To put my needs and desires first.
• To own property and have my property respected by others.
• To allow myself or my possessions to take up physical space in the world - whether at home, in a public place, at my desk at work, in my car on the road, while traveling, etc.
• To drive as I want to drive (in accordance with driving laws).
• To live where I want to live.
• To take up verbal space in the world.
• To speak up if I want to speak up.
• To join a conversation happening near me - or to choose not to join a conversation happening near me.
• To start a conversation.
• To seek out and find people eager to listen to what I have to say.
• To seek out and find people who try to understand me.
• To take up space on social media.
• To post what I want to on Facebook, Twitter, Instagram, etc. without worrying that I might be offending or annoying others with the content or frequency of my posts.
• To write what I want to write - in novels, short stories, poems, blog posts, etc. - without worrying that I might make other people uncomfortable, upset, angry, or hurt.
• To eat what I want to eat.
• To turn down offered food - with or without explanation.
• To change my diet requirements/allowances as I see fit.
• To weigh what I weigh.
• To wear what I want to wear.
• To decorate my body as I see fit (including jewelry, hair color/style, tattoos, etc.)
• To use the bathroom when I need to.
• To listen to my body's needs.
• To enjoy and celebrate my body.
• To find myself attractive.
• To find others attractive.
• To enjoy sex.
• To have the sex life I want to have (within consensual relationships).
• To decide when and how many children to have, and to have this decision respected.
• To raise my children as I want to raise them.
• To try new things.
• To not try new things.
• To make mistakes.
• To figure out my own preferences.
• To make my own choices.
• To alter my personal priorities whenever I want.
• To pursue or accept opportunities that I want.
• To turn down opportunities I don't want.
• To not feel pressured or coerced.
• To request adequate time to make an important decision.
• To accept compliments or gifts that others give me, without feeling like I don't deserve them or that I owe them a compliment or gift in return.
• To feel happy.
• To be hopeful or optimistic.
• To feel upset.
• To cry, or to keep crying, or to stop crying, or to not cry at all.
• To tell others how I really feel.
• To not tell others how I really feel.
• To demonstrate emotion without worrying how my emotions might impact others.
• To do things or feel things without justifying my actions or emotions (to myself or to others). 
• To spend time alone.
• To spend time with people who care about me.
• To receive care and understanding when I'm going through a difficult time.
• To ask for help.
• To set my own goals and pursue them as doggedly or lazily as I want.
• To evaluate, revaluate, and change my goals as I see fit.
• To be recognized and respected for my efforts.
• To be fairly compensated for my hard work.
• To define myself as I want to define myself.
• To be my own person.
• To practice self-care, in whatever way I need to at the time.
• To forgive myself.
• To be kind to myself.
• To be proud of myself.
• To love myself.
• To love every part of myself.
• To allow myself to shine.

***

Some of these points I feel require a bit of explanation, to stave off possible arguments for why they shouldn't be included - for example, "I am entitled to feel happy." This doesn't mean that I expect to always be happy - I'm realistic enough to understand that deserving happiness doesn't guarantee I will actually get it. What I mean when I say "I deserve happiness" is that I am allowed to feel happy. I can be happy without feeling guilty or undeserving. And I am allowed to pursue happiness, too - to want to be happy.

The statement "I am entitled to cry, or to keep crying, or to stop crying, or to not cry at all" has similar connotations. I'm saying that I'm allowed to cry, or not cry. I don't have to try to police my feelings or feel guilty for feeling them (or not feeling them). It is not up to anybody else to tell me what I'm allowed to feel, or how I'm allowed to express how I feel. Of course, this doesn't mean that those around me who witness me crying will be comfortable with my display, or that they will support me, and this doesn't mean that I will never face negative consequences for displaying my emotions. I can hope that I will be met with care and understanding more often than not, but I can't guarantee that that will always be the outcome. 

Some of these are things I am in complete control of - being kind to myself, loving myself, making my own choices - and I have no excuse for not ensuring that I achieve those things but the roadblocks I construct for myself. But other points - spending time with people who care about me, having my property and my person respected by others, receiving care and understanding when I'm going through a difficult time - necessarily rely on other people to cooperate with my goals, and to value myself as I am striving to do. Other people will not always be able to fulfill this role for me - and though I'm trying to prioritize generating self-worth, I'm not always able to give myself the things I'm in control over, either.

Just because I am listing out such things as things I deserve, then, doesn't mean that I actually expect to get them 100% of the time. This world is not a fair one, and everybody will not be able to get all of the things they want, let alone the things they need. But there is still value in reminding myself that I deserve these things, even if I don't expect to always get them - because reminding myself that I deserve them encourages me to seek out better relationships and environments if the ones I have are not adequately supporting me, and reminds me not to blame myself when bad things happen in my life, worrying that I deserve what I get.

As for the points about sharing or not sharing my opinions, expressing myself as I want to, and having the opportunity available to me to not offer explanations about my feelings, behaviors, or choices - believing that I'm entitled to do or not do those things as I see fit does not mean I expect no one to comment on them. People have eyes and are allowed to notice or be curious about my choices. They're allowed to take up their own verbal space (just as I am) and voice their contradictory opinions, cast judgments, or try to start a debate with me. But they aren't entitled to anything I don't want to share with them, and if I choose to keep explanations to myself or to not engage with them in conversation, I am entitled to make that choice. People are allowed to ask me questions. But they aren't entitled to hear the answer they want, the answer that is "socially acceptable" or even any answer at all, if I don't want to give one.

The same goes for me. "I am entitled to receiving care and understanding when I'm going through a difficult time" does not mean "I am entitled to receiving care and understanding from this specific person." People can make their own choices about how they interact with me, just as I can make my own choices about how to interact with them. But if I don't like the interaction, and it is not a positive in my life, I am allowed to abandon it. I am allowed to seek out other people who will give me what I need. And others are allowed to get frustrated with me, if my interactions with them are not what they are looking for; they are allowed to look elsewhere for the solutions they need or the answers they want to hear.

People are allowed to form their own opinions about me. I can't control what others think. However, I do not have to listen to someone's negative opinions about me if I don't want to. I can choose whose opinions I agree with or give merit to. I can choose what sort of people I let into my life.

I often care too much about other's opinions, trying to cater to everyone else's emotions or preferences over my own. Even when I can't know how someone really feels, or what someone prefers, I try to guess and cater to what I think they want. This bad habit is what I am trying to combat with the bullet points of taking up physical space in the world, verbal space (speaking up), and space on social media, as well as my statement about being entitled to drive how I want to drive, or use the bathroom when I need to. 

I am allowed to take up physical space - with my body, with my car on the road, and with my property. I am also allowed to speak up and say what I want to say, without worrying what others might think of me. Sometimes I convince myself not to share, even if I secretly want to, because it feels presumptuous to assume that others will want to hear what I have to say. I especially curb what I say or write if I'm worried that it might offend someone. On social media, I worry that if I post a lot, it would be annoying - and I don't want to be annoying. But I am entitled to share what I want to share - both in content and frequency, both in social media and in person. People can decide for themselves if they want to pay attention or engage with what I'm sharing; it is just as presumptuous of me to make that decision for them by choosing not to share something when I want to.

As for driving - I have in the past found myself caring too much about what other drivers on the road might think of me or want me to do. I sometimes feel pressured to drive or turn faster than I want to, just from the presence of a car behind me. They don't have to be tailgating me, they just have to be there. I imagine that they might want to drive faster, or that they are growing impatient with me waiting for an opening to turn, and so I change my behaviors to act more like how I think they want me to act. I even feel bad sometimes if I have a green light at an intersection where several other cars are stopped at a red light; I feel that they deserve a green light more than I do. These bad habits and negative thought patterns - the constant worry of "but what do others want me to do right now?" - are what I'm addressing when I assert "I am entitled to drive how I want to drive." I'm not saying I'm above driving laws and that I can drive however I want; I am saying only that I am entitled to make the little decisions that we all make every time we drive with my own preferences in mind, rather than trying to cater to what I think other's preferences might be. I am allowed to slow down to make a turn, or to wait for the opening that I want before turning or changing lanes. I am allowed to pass someone, or to not pass someone, as I want to. My car is allowed to take up physical space on the road - I don't need to feel guilty going through a green light, just because there are others who want their light to be green right now but don't have one. I am allowed to be there; I am allowed to drive.

I have also been known to worry about what others might think of me if I use the bathroom "too often." I once read a piece (probably on the internet somewhere, but I can't find it now) about how men listen to their body's needs more than women do - if they need to pee, they go to the bathroom; if they're hungry, they get some food and eat; if they're thirsty, they drink some water. It doesn't occur to them to wonder if they might be "allowed" to, or what others might think of them if they do - but even if they did wonder, it wouldn't matter. If their body needs something, they will go for it, because having their needs met is more important than what judgments anyone else might make. 

Now, I'm sure that's a gross generalization - some men will struggle to prioritize their body's needs and instead put other's opinions (or perceived opinions) first. But I do believe, from personal experience if nothing else, that women are probably more likely to fall into this trap. I've seen women refuse to grab themselves a snack even while their stomachs are audibly growling, unless or until they are absolutely sure that they're "allowed" to, that they won't be spoiling their appetites for future meals that might be planned, and that their food eating won't offend anyone who might witness it; when they do finally give in and go into the kitchen, they ask if anyone else wants anything as well. (I am often one of those women myself.) Meanwhile, I've seen men make themselves a snack when someone is in the middle of preparing them dinner - not once stopping to worry if the food preparer might be offended by his apparent impatience, and without asking around to see if anyone else might also be hungry. 

I'm not against the idea of being aware of my surroundings, taking a moment to see if what I'm about to do is appropriate, or trying to anticipate what others might need - but I definitely tend to overdo all of those things, to the point where I deny myself what I need if I think there's even a chance that I might offend or annoy someone, or draw "unwarranted" attention to myself. Yet, I am an adult, I am a human, I am alive. I have needs that have to be met, and if I don't prioritize them, who else will? If I'm hungry, I am allowed to eat. And if I need to use the bathroom, I am entitled to use the bathroom.  

I am allowed to care for myself. I am also allowed to accept help from others. I do not have to feel unworthy if someone does something nice for me. That was their choice, their prerogative. I don't have to feel bad, guilty, or undeserving of unexpected nice gestures, gifts, or compliments - or even just common decency and respect. What's more, I don't owe anything in return to those who choose to give them to me. Other people get to decide what they want (even if that decision is doing something genuinely nice to me), and I get to decide what I want (even if that is rejecting their kindness, or accepting their kindness but rejecting them). I don't owe anybody anything, for any reason.

***

None of those bullet points should be items of contention. No one should have a problem with anyone, regardless of how that person looks or what they do or what family they come from, standing up and saying any one of those points - aloud and assertively. 

But there are people who have a problem with it. 

There are people who insist that only some feelings are valid and that others are unacceptable or inappropriate, especially when demonstrated by specific groups (e.g. masculine men).

There are people who insist on being in charge of other's decisions - people who get bent out of shape when someone deigns to voice an opinion different than theirs, or make choices different than the choices they want the person to make.

There are people who insist that their discomfort seeing something they don't want to see (e.g. a man acting effeminately, or two women getting married, or a breastfeeding mother, or a young person dying their hair blue, or a large person wearing form-fitting fashion) is more important than anyone else's discomfort in not getting to make the choices they want to make for their lives. 

There are people who insist that when a man takes a woman out on a date, she owes him certain favors in return. 

There are people who insist that only some are entitled to fair compensation for their work - and others are not worth even a living wage.

There are people who insist that some people are more entitled to use the bathroom - or at least, certain bathrooms - than others, and people who insist that entire races of people should be denied working public water fountains just because of the color of their skin.

There are people who insist that only those with the money to afford it should be granted the "privilege" of living in the city they want to live in, or receiving medical care during times of physical need, or being allowed to eat when they are hungry. 

There are people who would read my list and snort at me derisively, calling my entire generation "entitled" - as if "entitled" were a bad word. 

As if that list of reminders I've created for myself in an effort to convince myself of their certainty is a pandemic that needs to be cured. 

As if these meager assertions of self-worth have always lived easily and selfishly in my soul, and were not hard-won through years of journaling and contemplation and therapy and internal debate.

As if I need to be reminded instead that I am NOT entitled - that I am less-than, that I am nothing. 

To those people, I reassert: I am entitled. It is not an insult. I'm entitled to life and liberty and the pursuit of happiness - same as everyone else.

People who disagree with that assertion tend to agree with the first part of that sentence - "I'm entitled to life and liberty and the pursuit of happiness" - as it applies to them. It is the expanding of entitlements to other people that they have a problem with. They think certain groups of people are different than people like them - and entitlements like the ones I listed do not belong to them all.

They do. These entitlements belong to everyone. And these entitlements belong to me.

Novel(s) Update

I recently came to the conclusion that I was trying to cram too many stories into a single novel/series of novels. I was intertwining different stories together (each with different voices/narrators), thinking that because they had some of the same themes, they should work together - but really it just became confusing for any potential readers to follow, and each part started taking away from the other parts, rather than building off each other and making each other better.

Further, I decided that the reason I was doing that (the reason I OFTEN do something like that when attempting to write novels) is because I don't feel, for whatever reason, like I am allowed to tell the story I really want to tell. I doubt my abilities as a writer, or I worry that the story will be unmarketable, or I worry that the story's subject matter will offend people - in short, I worry too much what other people might think. In an attempt to still write, but somehow soften the writing, I therefore BURY my writing - underneath other layers of writing. I posit that a story that reads not good enough or not professionally polished could be more easily forgiven if it was framed within the context of someone writing the story, and so I bury the story I am less sure about within a larger story of an author's life. Or I use too much vague symbolism or too many extended metaphors to make potentially abrasive content easier to swallow (for me to write, or for others to read), and then try to pair it with another story with less symbolism to mirror that story and help explain it. None of that is necessary to do - nor particularly helpful, or original, or easy for someone to read and enjoy - but I do it because I feel like it would be presumptuous of me to assume people might care to read my writing. I make my stories discoverable only to those who are willing to put in the effort to prove they want to hear what I have to say, the archeologists who are eager and capable of unearthing the fossils I've hidden in the dirt. I do this because I feel like I am not allowed to let my words shine on their own. It's a habit likely born from low self-esteem and a penchant for making myself suffer. But it's also a habit I'm trying to break.

What I am in the process of doing, then, is splitting up the story I was writing into two separate narratives. I am also changing the structures and timelines of these stories a bit, to make them work better as standalone stories. For each, I am figuring out what the real story I want to tell is - and then I am trying to find the courage within myself to sit down and tell it, without burying it and watering everything down.

Right now I'm not quite working on them simultaneously - I'm working on one and then the other - but that may change once I have new outlines and plans drawn up for both. One story is well outlined and already at least 1/3 complete, based on what I had already written; the other is going through more drastic structural changes, and I'm still working out the exact details of how it's going to look. But once I have all those ideas in place, I could foresee it being relatively easy to go back and forth between the stories, working on them nearly concurrently, if I wanted to. We'll see how I feel.

In any case, even though it's a lot of work to rethink and rework my novel(s), I do think it will make for better writing, when all is said and done. And hopefully I'll be able to continue this process as I write, stopping to ask myself every once in awhile if I'm "doing it again" - burying my words under other words and not letting them shine.

Dahlia Tattoo

Exactly one month ago, as a five-day-early birthday present to myself, I finally got a tattoo! It's something that's been on my bucket list for several years, but I kept putting it off because I wasn't entirely sure what I wanted to get a tattoo of. I considered Harry Potter quotes for awhile - but there's too many good ones and not enough short good ones, and I didn't want an entire paragraph written on my skin. Then, I stumbled on pictures of floral "watercolor style" tattoos on Instagram several months ago, and that opened up an entirely new world of possibilities. I was really drawn to the idea of getting something pretty and artistic on the inside of my left forearm, near the inside of my elbow - something that would act as an extension to my body of artwork (floral, colorful, and heavy on the symbolism), and something that I would love and appreciate - and be able to see - every day.

But knowing that I wanted a colorful flower wasn't enough for me (of course). I wanted my tattoo to mean something more specific than just "a pretty flower" or "beautiful colors" or "a reference to my floral artwork". I carefully considered (as I do with much of my art) what the message of my tattoo should be - that is, what type of flower I should choose.

Brand new tattoo!

I settled on a dahlia flower because dahlias stand for a lot of cool things, including wisdom, creativity and art, drawing upon inner strength to succeed, maintaining kindness, grace and dignity in the face of adversity, embarking on new adventures, making positive life changes, and forging my own unique self-identity. They also symbolize a lasting commitment - and I don't know what's a more lasting commitment than a permanent tattoo. :) My dahlia tattoo is a promise I'm making to myself 1) to be kinder to myself (that is, to stop all self-abuse and negative thought patterns and start treating myself with the same kindness and respect I show my friends), and 2) to be unashamed and unafraid to be who I am, feel the things I feel, or want the things I want.

I designed the tattoo myself. I drew/traced several images of dahlias until I got one that I thought would work. I also played around with the amount of petals, cutting some of them away to simplify the flower a bit, given the size it would be on my arm. Then, I blew it up to 8x10 size (to make it easier to paint), traced it onto watercolor paper, and added some light watercolor washes, just to decided what colors I wanted to use and where I wanted those colors on the tattoo design.

The watercolor sketch before I added black outlines back in.

I chose purple, blue, pink, and green for the colors. Purple is often associated with wisdom, elegance, intellect, depth, and beauty. Blue and green symbolize new life, fresh starts, and changes. The pink I added just because it's pretty - and I wanted a lighter color to make sure the darker purples and blues didn't make the tattoo too dark. These are also probably my four favorite colors (though I like so many colors, it does change a lot), and I have a lot of clothes in those colors, which will help my tattoo "go" with most of my wardrobe.

When the watercolor paint was dry, I went over the light pencil lines with a black Sharpie. Then, I used my copy machine to shrink it back down until it was the smaller size I wanted/the size that would fit on my arm.

Printing copies to try to figure out what size it should be on my arm. (The leaves point down to my wrist.)

The copier made the colors a lot duller, but I made sure to pick out with my tattoo artist the bright colors I actually wanted. I also told her I'd like to extend the extra pigment out further from the black outlines, to give it a more abstract/painterly quality. She used my to-scale copy to trace the design onto my skin, then inked the black outlines and the areas of color.

It hurt less than I thought it would, and went quicker than I thought it would too. It only took them about 1-1.5 hours to finish the tattoo. It also healed faster than I was told to expect, which was another nice bonus!

Here's what it looked like last week, three weeks after I got it:

It can be hard to get a good, clear picture of it... Not sure if that's the nature of this kind of tattoo, or just a problem specific to my phone camera (but I'm guessing probably the latter). :)

Now if only the weather would stop being so cold, maybe I'd actually be able to wear more short sleeves to show it off!