The Feminist Tsunami

This morning as I sat at my local International Women’s Day breakfast, I felt a sense of disappointment; I was the youngest person there. Am I truly the only women of my generation in my home town, that wants to stand up and say I demand equality?

I sure hope not….

Then I consulted Facebook…ah Social Media, thank you for proving to me today why I have befriended the people I have.

Are we third wave feminists?

No.

We are a feminist tsunami .

And we are not going away.

A lot of things infuriate me.

But nothing more than violence. Violence of any kind, but in particular violence against women.

Recently my anger about this subject was given a spark.

This spark lit a fire.

Late one night watching TEDx talks on YouTube, I came across a video by one of my favourite authors and activists, Eve Ensler. She was talking about this revolutionary uprising. A movement. One Billion Rising. Eve has been campaigning to stop violence against women for more than 15 years, this year she called us together as women and the men who love and support women, to collectively call an end to the violence, through dance.

“Dance is the fastest, most direct route to the truth” – Gabrielle Roth.

So together, on the 14^th of February, we danced.  It was fun, it was invigorating, it was silly, it was wild, it was succulent but most importantly it was empowering and it was collective. I am so grateful to the women and MEN that rose that day, those brave enough to say NO in public.

So as I sit here on the 100^th anniversary of  International Womens Day, I don’t have to wonder “Why do we need feminism?” because I know.

I need feminism because:

• ·         When I am pissed off it does not mean I have my period,
• ·         I don’t want my daughter to grow up thinking that she has to be a Disney princess, and wait for a prince to save her,
• ·         Even our male politicians don’t think “women will ever dominate or even approach equal representation in a large number of areas” – Tony Abbott,
• ·         People still ask what rape victims were wearing,
• ·         a person’s sexual identity does not make them any less of a woman,
• ·         genital mutilation still occurs,
• ·         There is no such things as girls toys and boys toys,
• ·         I should be the only person who decides what happens with my reproductive organs,
• ·         Embracing my femininity does not make me weak,
• ·         Patriarchy is still a thing,
• ·         Our society teaches “don’t GET raped” instead of “DON’T rape”,
• ·         Music companies still produce music that degrades women and then markets it at teens,
• ·         I should feel safe when I walk down the street,
• ·         Being assertive does not make me a bitch,
• ·         I am sick of being told I am too pretty to have tattoos,
• ·         I should not have to constantly re-affirm my intelligence,
• ·         I will wear make-up if and when I please,
• ·         I am just as valuable as a man,
• ·         It shouldn’t be my goal in life to find a nice man and settle down,
• ·         Because I can only expect for my daughter what I demand for myself.

ISo why do you need Feminism ?

Between Dark & Dawn

I am drinking.
Instant coffee.
From someone else's mug.
It's OK , she's in Spain.
Sugar doesn't fix it.
The taste makes me
smack my tongue
on the roof of my mouth.
Physically; I am present.
Mentally; I am absent.
Lost in a world
between the dark and dawn.
Stuck still between
the coolness of the plaster
and the silhouette
of your body.
It doesn't feel awkward.
There is comfort
in sharing the inky night.
And watching you
breathe, mumble and sigh.

The jerk who liked hugs

Abstract: I am basically a jerk that likes to be hugged

Dedication: To the man that made me realise that it is OK to be a jerk and demand hugs from friends on all occasions, because that is who I am. DT.

I wanted to call this post "How to love a person with Bipolar".

I didn't.

Why?

Because; we as humans are far too diverse to be categorised as such.

To draw any parallel between myself and the next person that is bipolar would be arrogant.

I am different to you, you are different to the person sitting next to you, and they are different to the person they stood next to in the Café this morning.

It still leaves the question, how do you love a person with bipolar?  I don’t have an answer, what I discovered while writing this was; we all deserve to be loved, despite our flaws and indiscretions.

So this post is about how to love ME and my bipolar in just 5 easy steps.

1) I am a massive jerk and I wish I owned a magic eraser.

I don’t know if this is a bipolar thing or just a Lola specific trait but my compulsivity is at its most indulgent when it comes to my mouth and my emotions.  This brings me undone with the people I love every day.

I figure that most people are born with an in built sensor within their brain, a mechanism that makes red lights flash and says “DON’T SAY THAT” when something ridiculous is about to come out of their mouth. Well I was not born with this mechanism or mine is faulty, either way EVERYTHING I think or feel comes out my mouth, I mean everything.

This is good and bad, on the positive side everyone that I love knows that I love them, I have no fear in sharing how incredibly overwhelmed I am that I have wonderful, beautiful and inspiring people in my life. If you know me, you know this, I will end most conversations with “I love you”. I actually mean it, I love a lot of people, just in different ways and for different reasons.

The bad is, I suck hard at social situations, reading social cues and responding appropriately. I just met you and this is crazy but let me tell you all about this wild thing that happened to me once, even though you are a stranger. It is also problem if I am feeling short tempered, hazy, lost, unsettled, angry, confused. You will know that too. I will be silent, I will yell, I will ignore, I will “snap” for no apparent reason, I may just tell you to go and “shove your decaf skinny latte up your arse”,  (this is clearly why I am not in customer service). I don’t know why this happens, it’s happened to me for as long as I can remember, I know it’s happening and yet I have no control of the words that seem to spit from my mouth.

Its days like these I wish for the magic eraser, where I could rub out what I said and replace it with more kind words. I will admit that this affliction has given me a great capacity to apologise, and seek forgiveness, I just wish it was not so hurtful to the people I love.

If I ask you, can I use my magic eraser, it means I am sorry, that I was taken over by whatever chemicals in my brain turn me into that wired lady who won’t shut her mouth. The best part is the magic eraser is reciprocal; you get to use it too.

2) I am responsible for my illness.

It’s important for me to feel in control, especially of my illness. When I feel in control of it, I feel well. This is not your responsibility, what you do and say should have no deeper impact on me than on a normal person, I never want you to sensor yourself because of my illness, I want you to be you. 

This is my illness, I am responsible for

·         Managing it

·         Medicating it

·         Taking it to therapy

·         Reigning in the highs

  And

·         Picking up the lows.

I don’t want to be saved, I am the hero of this story. I just want you to love me, with all my flaws.

3) I get by with a little help from my friends.

These are people that to date have seen more of my ups and downs than anyone, they know my triggers, my pre-mania indicators, my uh-oh this is depression again signs. They stalk my facebook, my instagram, my youtube links and my pinterest pins, they can read more deeply into a link to Like a Friend by Pulp than the other 322 friends, they know when I buy handbags and shoes that shit is getting real. They bless my life with their love, understanding and compassion, they forgive me when I least deserve it and will always answer the phone at 3am.

In essence, you can’t have me, if I don’t have them.

4) Out of Space.

Sometimes I just need space.  Sometimes it’s physical space, sometimes it’s mental space.                 

My head is often a swirling lake of inner dialogue, I need to escape, get out, shut down. This doesn't always mean I want you to go away, sometimes it just means I want you to shut up. So shut up.

5) Hug Me.

No; really, hug me. Wrap me up in your arms, hold me firmly and just breathe it out with me.  Hugging is proven to reduce respiration, heart rate and release endorphins,  hugging is physiologically good for you, so let’s hug.

Most times a hug can fix anything, the times that it can’t, it makes whatever is broken easier to cope with.

You can hug me when I am sad, angry, annoyed, irritable, raging, happy, joyous, you should just always hugs. If in doubt HUG!

See, I really am just a jerk that likes to be hugged.

It's Just a Number...

But it means more than you can ever know. 

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In his car

There are certain places I love to be. 

I have this friend and his car is one of those places. 

Always the driver, in my real world, 

sitting back in the passenger seat of his van

with my feet on the dash and the smooth sounds

of Rai Thistletwaite or John Mayer on the stereo,

I can watch the world fly by.

This brings me a special sort of happiness. 

These are the things I see when I am there. 

I love nothing better than road trippin' with him in the hippy hills. 

icad - day 3

Tell me all of your secrets.

3 June, 2012

icad - Index Card a Days

With a little gentle pushing from Raven Ink, I am participating in the icad challenge. 

Supplies have been acquired, 

inspiration is a little vague and lost in the spirallings of my mind,  but will come I am sure. 

June 1, 2012

June 2, 2012

Jarvis' artworks from 1&2 June, 2012

Lillian's artworks from 1&2 June, 2012