Ah, I’ve finally done a fun and silly thing that I’ve wanted to do for years and it brings me such joy.
I created the instagram Prue’s Soggy Bottom, where I log Great British Bakeoff quotes out of progress.
The project is linked on my Publications & Projects page – as well as some other projects I’ve got going/have done. And if you want to just go directly to the instagram, HERE IT IS: Prue’s Soggy Bottom.
Two things I struggle with: 1. Fearing – and thus feeling – my emotions 2. Assigning an absurd amount of meaning to my emotions.
Fearing my emotions: in some ways, I’ve felt this was justified. I was an angry kid and sometimes I acted out because of overwhelming anger. But what I realize now that I’m older is that it wasn’t my anger itself that made me act out – it was that I didn’t know any healthy ways to address my anger. And, though many of my reasons to be mad were justified, adults in my life would try to explain away my anger. Trying to explain away an emotion does nothing but make it come back stronger an hour later. Because I didn’t let myself feel or felt guilty about the feelings, I started throwing things instead of throwing tantrums.
In a society that tells you “You’ll know when he’s the one,” how can we not over-assign meaning to what we feel? I never understood that assertion because time and time again I’ve “known” things that turned out not to be the case – thanks, OCD brain. Also, divorce rates are high, so that’s bullshit. There are all sorts of reasons why that’s bullshit; don’t get me started.
But anyway, how do I deal now? I share this because a few folks I was talking with earlier found this coping mechanism I use really helpful. When an emotion comes up – be it anger, sadness, joy, loneliness, whatever – I don’t sit there trying to figure out why I feel the way I do or what it could mean. I just feel the feeling.
What’s that look like?
I want to address, of course – this doesn’t apply if someone’s approaching you on a dark street corner and you feel afraid! But in a way I guess it does – you don’t need to rationalize that fear, right?
I do not always need to rationalize my feelings. I can feel them and if there’s a non-urgent, compassionate (and self-compassionate), useful way and reason to address them outside of myself, I can do that too.
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I’m realizing that I am, and usually have, refused to take anything but the best for myself in my life. And that’s beautiful. And I hope I can expand that mindset while holding on to my compassion and gratitude.
Anyway –
I went on yet another woodland excursion the other day, and what a time I had. I’ve not once regretted heading out to the woods. Or to the ocean. Or playing music. Or singing along. Even when I’ve thought I didn’t have the energy. I hope for you, reader, that you have or find something in your life that brings you that kind of joy.
So while out in the woods, I followed a small relatively quiet trail farther than I’ve ever taken it. I got to revel in the gurgling sounds of a little creek with little waterfalls, and I saw a rogue windchime out there! Normally I’m not into adding unneeded extravagance to natural landscapes, but something about this windchime, out there on a quiet still day, painstakingly hung there and hurting no one, was… beautiful.
The whole scene was the stuff of my dreams, down to the old cobblestone bridge and the clay cliffs. In fact I’m working on painting it.
On my return from a sunny afternoon in the woods I drank the stinging nettle tea I’d started steeping that morning, and look at this mountain-dew-esque color! Exquisite (although Mountain Dew is not exquisite).
My woodland walks are my wonderful time for myself. I’ve noticed that I’m much grumpier when other do their own thing when I haven’t given myself space to do my own thing. And I’ve also noticed that when I am taking time and energy for my own creative and comforting efforts, I get very annoyed when people take out their own lack-of-making-time-for-themselves on me! It’s all about taking & making space for yourself.
For me tonight, that looks like [quietly] blasting Lady Gaga and Flock of Seagulls and prancing around with my bass guitar, playing it badly and singing. And writing this post. May you have as blessed an evening.
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I enjoy the greater amount of time I have now to enjoy my own hobbies and spend time with myself. But when I end up spending too much time on my own, I feel depressed and anxious and sapped of energy and like I don’t want to do any of my hobbies! It can be a hard balance to strike, and I wish I had some advice for how to strike it.
I’ve found that the advice we’ve all heard a thousand times at this point, label what you are feeling and then allow it to be there, is the only thing I know to help me. Like, I don’t feel like this is my best writing right now – and that feeling is there, and I’ll let it be there and just continue to write because it feels good to write even when it’s not good. Even when no one reads it (in case you didn’t know, I really don’t write to be read. I just write to write and appreciate when people read.)
I have this restlessness in my heart lately. It’s a kind of restlessness I’ve felt on car rides and beachside occasions and sunny summer bike rides all across my life, but that I never gave myself the time and space to leave there, to let be. Usually I filled it with something, whether that something was impulsively starting a romantic relationship, feeding my insecurities, or trying to fit the outline of someone else. It’s a feeling not that my life isn’t where it should be, not that I’m unhappy; it’s this feeling that I truly am interesting, I am special, I have talents and inspirations and motivations that I deserve to follow, even if it seems scary or difficult or open-ended.
I wonder if that restlessness is why I feel frustration with folks I care about when they’re engaging in their passions and not engaging in their relationship with me. Because I have passions that I want to engage in more, maybe.
And that’s where it comes back full-circle in that I treasure my time enjoying my passions alone, and I treasure a certain amount of time with certain others. I’m still trying to strike the balance.
There are also the shadows of things that have upset me in the past, shadows of the way I was raised or words said to me that hurt like a physical blow. They don’t bug me most of the time, but in difficult moments they still hide in my mind and torment me a bit. And I think, again, that advice is sound – to let those feelings be there, to realize hey, this still bothers me! , to set my boundaries, and to go on.
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Garlic mustard is a non-native plant of the brassicaceae family that has taken over much of the woodland floors in western Pennsylvania. It actually has a beautiful fragility to it; it’s very easy to weed out by the root and boasts teenie white flowers. And because it’s invasive and aggressive, I and friends of mine and local herbalists pull the plants out on our weekly walks. This is something I normally find a displeasing behavior, but the plants are edible and useful and so I save as many as I can for use in my kitchen, which makes me feel less guilty.
Anyway: at some point the other day my thoughts converged between garlic mustard and mental compulsions.
I think these two disparate things can be considered in much the same way. Nonchalant at first, unassuming and seemingly inoccuous, they can quickly take over a woodland floor or a mind. And with understanding, attention, and compassion they can be culled.
I was discussing with my therapist earlier today how some of my ruminations or intrusive thoughts/guilt have become so ingrained that even though they’ve completely changed parts of my routine, it has become hard to recognize them. I’m just now learning to disengage from them; instead of attaching excess meaning to a thought or ruminating on it, I’ve begun being able to (1) identify it as a stressor and (2) disengage from it. This is similar to my recent having been taught the nature of garlic mustard, a plant I’ve certainly hiked past time after time without knowing it’s tendency to take away from native & ntauralized plants around it.
I don’t believe any plant (or thought), as a thing, is evil – another connection between garlic mustard and the intrusive compulsion. And with regard to plants and living beings I will go into more detail on this in an upcoming post on invasive species. As for thoughts, our minds are connection machines – am I evil and heartless because deep in slumber I have a nightmare where I murder someone? No, I’d say not. But ruminating on the consideration that I might be evil because I had such a mental image is exhausting and changes nothing. Disengaging from thoughts and ruminations becomes important right here.
I’m glad I’ve learned to disengage from many of my thoughts now, and much like the garlic mustard plant I give thanks to my ability to think – I may have an overactive amygdala, but I can still be grateful for the times it’s activity has helped me and my ancestors survive.
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First Foraging Foray!
Well, technically. I sort of foraged with two friends a few months back but it was less about foraging and more about learning/experiencing the woods that day. But today, thanks to my city’s lovely parks program putting together guided walks with an herbalist, I did my first foraging and flower-eating!
Well, okay, I’ve eaten flowers before. But not flowers I’d picked myself.
So today I learned about:
I really enjoyed the taste of bittercress; I had to stop myself from eating a piece that I’d picked to press in order to remember it’s shape (I ended up losing the piece along the journey home, ugh). Violet flowers also tasted alright. Motherwort was bitter but not so bitter that I was unhappy, and I was told it’s good for cardiovascular support and it’s a nervine.
I think my biggest excitement is stinging nettle. Apparently there are histamines that give you the “stinging” reaction if you handle stinging nettle for too long or without being gentle – and it turns out the stinging can be medicinal! It can promote circulation which, if you have a sac of fluid in your knee six years post-op and numbness, which I do, is nice to know because it can help reduce my swelling! I was quite literally told that I could tap myself in the knee with the leaves and let it sting me. I’m looking forward to this.
And as someone who wants to forage responsibly and for others to do the same, here’s a tip I learned: When plucking nettle, [gently] pluck just above the next leaf layer the same way you would pick basil to make it bushier.
Now, I don’t feel even remotely experienced enough yet to share much about these plants; rather I just want to share my excitement that these things grow in my very own local park! Where there are no pesticides sprayed! And where I may or may not know spots where people don’t walk their dogs where plants are pee-free…
I will share what I made with what I foraged today, though!
New Planties: Crispy Wave Fern, Willow (yes, a whole-ass tree), Zinnia, another Friendship Plant
Seedlings! Both Indoor & Outdoor
Here I have a couple of pollinator see packs. The tiny one is a strawberry plant, and that will be staying inside simply because I don’t have any outdoor space where I teenie weenie pot like that would stay safe. The other two are sunflowers and daisies; I actually have some other sunflower seeds that are going directly in the ground outside tomorrow!
As for these two medium-sized seed potting kits, there’s also not anywhere outside I’d feel super safe keeping them – except for doing exactly what I plan to do, which is creating a way for these little dudes to hang from our big strong maple out front. I’m hoping to make some hemp string hangers for them!
I’m not into bombing – unless it’s seed bombing. These little seed bombs (clay + compost/dirt + local native plant seeds + water) starting to actually sprout while still in the container!
Making them was a blast, and throwing them about has been a blast as well. Hopefully I’m blessed with a beautiful alleyway full of wildflowers this season.
Last but not least for the seedlings – some basil seeds have been laid beneath their elder basil brother!
No sprouts yet, but peep my new yoga gnome thanks to my absolute favorite Pittsburgh nursery (Cavacini’s) – who sort of offered me a part-time position, by the way.
The folk at the counter overheard me talking plants to my family and said “ah you brought your own plant lady!” And later they said “I’m so glad you’re gnome people.” I’m very into gnomes and so is my dad, honestly.
An Artistic Endeavor
This isn’t the artistic endeavor I came here to talk about, but: if I made tee shirts that said “I’m just foraging” or something for people to wear like at the park or something… I don’t know. That’s just in my head.
Anyway – a while ago I started working on a self-portrait based on one of my favorite photos of myself. I didn’t finish it but I’ve decided to scale up and do a canvas painting alla the Andy Warhol fingerpaint of late. I’m feeling the Sunday depressies today (even though it’s Saturday) but I hope my energy’ll be up later and I’ll work on it.
A Curly Girl Success Story
I wanted to be sure to drop this here because (a) I want to be able to replicate it and (b) it took me F O R E V E R to find something that worked to return my hair to how I remember it being at it’s healthiest, so maybe this could work for you if you’re struggling to find a routine for your curls!
So, the morning curl post-cowash* refresh:
*I had cowashed the day before; this routing was done on none-shampooed, non-apple-cider-vinegared, dry hair.
I’ve been using SheaMoisture intensive hydration conditioner with manuka honey and mafura oil to cowash lately. Occassionally when my hair is super dry I use I AM hydration elation instead. I have not shampooed in weeks, I use a 1:3-ish ratio of apple cider vinegar to filtered water to wash/clarify. My hair is also cut into relatively short layers.
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This is a brain dump inspired by the fact that I got to fingerpaint a few days ago.
Here’s the first thing I fingerpainted!
I don’t know why logically but that first image, where there’s still a big white unpainted splotch, just catches my eye every time. And after this I went down to the art store and bought 4 more canvases to finger paint because gosh is it relaxing on my OCD. It’s like a salve on sore skin.
I also painted eggs with my family for Easter, and that was another super-relaxing very-fun time. I made the tie dye ones and a hot pink splotched one and one with a really ugly pickle on it.
Getting purposefully messy has been a real antidote to my OCD lately, which is crazy because there have been so many times over the past year that I’ve avoided situations where I’d get dirty or messy (like painting) for fear of getting poisoned or poisoning someone else.
TW: self-harm & OCD
I’ve also been getting better at forgiving myself/not engaging with self-hatred. I am unfortunately once again less than a month free of self-harm but the urges are more physical and emotional now than they have been prior, when my thoughts twisted and turned in on themselves until I hated who I was thanks to my own mind. Now I just feel physical discomfort.
But back to “getting better at forgiving myself/not engaging with self-hatred.” I got annoyed by some friends recently and complained to another friend about it. And then when I saw the aforementioned friends I was annoyed at I did feel a little bad about complaining about them. But I didn’t let OCD take it and run with it the way it sometimes does – when OCD tells me I’m a bad friend and an uncaring person for complaining, I’ll now sarcastically say to myself – “Ah yes, that’s me. A terrible, hateful, uncaring person because I get annoyed at other people sometimes. Makes sense.”
And I’ve also gotten back to being able to do things in social contexts on my own. Like, sit at a restaurant and eat alone. Or (safely) drink a beer at a bar alone. Or go to an event alone. Or sit at a coffee shop alone. Sometimes this stuff has been hard for me to do because I’m sitting there thinking about how I look to other people. Honestly, now, I mostly don’t care. What right do other people have to judge me? Me sipping a beer or planting a plant or chugging a latte isn’t hurting anyone!
I don’t like to be advice-y. I think there’s more than all of our fair share of that on social media. So let me leave off with a wish that you have a great week, living it your own way & bringing joy and peace to your little world.
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TW: OCD, blood, intrusive thoughts
I’m about to do something that feels insane.
My cat got a nosebleed all over my wall. I’m going to sit by the bloodstains and not clean them.
Now, reader, I don’t know how that seems to you. To me when I tell myself that, my brain says things like this:
Are you nuts? You’re a bad cat caretaker. You’re lazy. You’re just leaving the blood because you’re lazy. You don’t even have OCD. You’re lazy and selfish. Your cats are going to die because you aren’t being diligent enough.
Mind you, I’m not never going to clean that blood. I’m just going to sit with it until the urgency of I NEED TO CLEAN THIS NOW OR I AM LAZY AND MY CATS WILL DIE fades to Hey, that blood’s kinda gross – let’s clean that up.
This is exposure therapy. A.k.a., torture.
Let’s start.
This to the right is what the blood looks like.
I do want to point out here that my kitty who got the nosebleed is fine – he’s napping in the sun as I type. He just has a stubborn URI and nose irritation.
So now I sit at my desk near that blood spatter. My anxiety/guilt starts at a 8/10. And I sit, and I wait for it to decrease to about half of that. And I try not to ruminate; I’m allowed to remind myself of the facts, like that the vet said blood isn’t dangerous to my other cat. But I work hard not to ruminate, keep checking up on the blood, etc.
At the 5 minute mark I’m down to a 7/10 but I feel like a crazy person working at my desk surrounded by blood. And that thought sends me back up to an 8.
My movements are stiff because I’m trying hard to avoid touching blood; in my head I know there’s already know way I haven’t put my elbow or forearm in some of the [dried] spatter. I feel myself getting a bit shaky. I’m oscillating between 7 and 8.
At the 9-minute mark I’m calming down a bit for now – down to a 6/10. My kitty looks very cozy in the window. I think about a TikTok I saw where a man’s puppy decided to lick his bleeding cut, and no one there was freaking out – maybe I don’t need to freak out, either? (They did tease the dog for being a vampire, though, understandably.)
I feel like I’m in a cheap horror film.
And my head goes back to You’re lazy, you’re doing this for attention, this isn’t real, you just want attention. But my body doesn’t really respond this time.
At the 11-minute mark I’m down to a 5. That doesn’t mean it’ll keep decreasing linearly but I’m hopeful.
My arms feel itchy. Not sure if it’s dry skin or stress; the suddenness makes me guess it’s stress.
(Believe it or not this’ll all make me feel better?)
There are gnats in this house, and I like bugs but I wish they would go away. Why do we need gnats in the house?
At the thirteen minute mark, my kitty cat sneezes right near me and although I don’t check for blood on the furniture from it, my anxiety is back up to about a 6.
I’m looking forward to a nice lunch at 12; this helps calm my brain just a bit.
There’s blood on my calendar. There’s blood on my calendar. It’s incredible to me the way projectile blood hits certain things and skips others.
I’m going to sip my coffee, no matter how much it scares me. I won’t die.
At the 15 minute mark I am still at a 6. This makes me a little sad and stressed.
I think, thank god I have therapy at 1.
Someone in a group therapy session for OCD talked recently about how even without OCD telling them things were urgent, they’d have made the same decisions they’d made. That gives me hope; my values are to care for animals. Even without OCD I’d be caring for this animal and cleaning up his blood until he gets better. OCD just makes things even scarier when they’re already scary. I’m glad for my values.
Gratitude is something that really gives me rest. Today I’m thankful for sunshine, warmer weather, and my wonderful coworkers. And my parents, and cat rescues, and little local tiki bars. And unforeseen friendships and little joys. And at the 17-minute mark, I am back down to a 5.
I feel safer than I did at the start. And less stiff, too. But I’m not looking forward to the eventual cleaning. I’m getting hungry, I have obligations in a half hour, things are still a bloody mess… I’m feeling the world close in on me a little bit. But again, my body doesn’t react so strongly to these thoughts – and that’s a win.
At the 21-minute mark I felt the anxiety drop down to my feet like a balloon stabbed with a needle. I’m at a 4/10, and that’s half. The exposure’s over.
With the roughness of my mental health as of late, and the forced productivity of daily life, I find it important to revel in the little creature comforts. I hope this post dins you wherever you’re at and that it reminds you it’s great to just enjoy things.
So, a list of my little comforts when I’m down, or truly just whenever, in no particular order:
Have your day. Wallow if you need to wallow, enjoy if you’re in the mood. Be where you are.
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For once I check a notification from my phone and it’s my zodiac app saying:
This period may seem overwhelming, upsetting, and intense, but it’s an important initiation. It will be hard at first, but by the end of this cycle, if you consciously choose to participate, you’ll emerge stronger and more empowered for having endured it. You’re learning what it’s like to start from scratch and build yourself anew.
I’m on my way to the coffee shop after OCD therapy. I stop for a quick mailbox check and see a beautiful card from my grandmother; it could be for Easter or my birthday, since they’re a day apart.
I tuck the card in my purse and start the sunny walk down the street to the shop. I think I’ll stop at Rite Aid as well; I need stronger hair ties. I hope they have plastic-free ones, I think. And I look forward to my latte & my locally-made juice and to the sweat on my legs after a walk on a finally-warm spring day.
I end up behind a slow walker, and I try to respectfully keep a distance but I just cannot walk so slow, and so I stop in a lot where there are usually stray cats to see if I see any, and when I don’t I decide to open the card from my grandmother.
Anyone who knows me will know I’m not religious; spiritual yes but a believer in religion, no. But the card from my very Catholic grandmother says “May God watch over you” and that is a sentiment that melts my heart. If for me ‘god’ is the universe then yes, may she watch over me. And no matter who my grandmother pictures god to be, her wish that this holy and all-knowing being might turn an eye lovingly toward my little life is a beautiful sentiment. And so, I think, may god be with me and watch over me and my grandmother and my cats and all my loved ones.
And as I’m walking I’m stopped on the street by a man with a heavy New York accent asking if I have the time to answer a simple question. Something, maybe his very friendly dog, makes me stop. And we have a generous and kind conversation because of his question:
What do you think could bring all the world peace?
And we talk about music and fresh air and nature and the playfulness of animals and his being raised Jewish and Catholic and my childhood going to Catholic schools. But we talk very little religion. Yes, this man is part of a ministry but this is unlike any other “religious” conversation I’ve ever been stopped for. Usually church and ministry and religion to me have been ways of “dutifully” pointing out all the ways in which I am “imperfect” in the eyes of some man-made God. This was nothing like that, only a reflection on how the world needs peace.
I hope I have another walk like this, and I believe I will. That’s why I am happy to call my current community home.
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Urban Habitat 