Hey Y’all!
Long time, no write! Honestly, I’ve been out here literally fighting for my life with these winter blues. Even though Vermont gets so much more sun than Michigan, we still had lots of gloomy days, the sun was setting at 4 pm, and it was always so cold. You can take the girl out of New Orleans, but you can’t make her enjoy the cold. But now the sun is out, the weather is getting warmer, and the promise of spring (aka pollen) is in the air. I could not be happier, I’ve even started seeds for a garden!
So how have I been combating my seasonal depression? Well I forget to take vitamin D basically every single day, so I’ve been compensating with hobbies: needle felting, pottery, coloring, reading, knitting. Just trying to get my dopamine hit by keeping my hands busy creating things that bring me joy, and keeping my mind busy learning a new skill. So clearly, my creative energy has been being expended elsewhere. Now that I’m feeling better, I hope to be back in this medium more regularly.
Instead of a nature photo (because honestly, I can’t in good spirit post a picture of snow. I’m over it!), here’s my favorite piece I made in my pottery class. It is now the only mug I use even though I’ve spent so much money and time building a huge collection.
Today I come with a pretty heavy topic: being triggered. It’s been coming up in conversations a lot for me so I decided to put my experience into words.
(CW: racism)
Musing
I don’t know when the word triggered started being used in everyday language, but when it did, I did not understand the full range of what it was describing. I assumed it meant that if someone encountered a trigger, they’d immediately have intense flashbacks and/or experience a panic attack. And sure, that can happen for some people, but then I experienced my first trigger and I started to learn the range of what being triggered could mean. So here’s the story of the slow build-up of events that now causes me to be triggered.
When I lived in Michigan, our neighborhood was a pretty even mix of Black & white families. When I’d walk Phoenix, I’d often only exchange pleasantries with my Black neighbors because the elderly white women on the block were not concerned with getting to know me. They were concerned with…dog poop.
*me bending over with a poop bag on my hand immediately after Phoenix finished pooping*
*old white woman comes outside and yells “You better pick that up!”*
*me having just picked up the dog poop*
*a different old white woman opens her window and calls out “Thanks for picking that up!”*
*me having just picked up the dog poop*
*another old white woman shouts out of her front door “You’re always so good about picking up your dog’s poop, unlike some of the other people around here!”*
These interactions became a regular part of our walks, and as a result, I started developing habits to protect myself from the onslaught of my neighbors’ comments. As soon as Phoenix would make the motions of a poop squat, I’d immediately rip a poop bag off the roll and stick my hand in it so that anyone watching could see that I was in the act of picking it up. Once the poop was in hand, I was rushing off to avoid anyone coming outside to comment on me picking up poop.
I was trying my best to be able to have a peaceful walk through the neighborhood, but someone was always there to critique me. For example, I never allowed Phoenix to walk on the lawn side of the sidewalk, I forced her to stay on the street side at all times to prevent her paws and ever-sniffing nose from even touching someone’s grass. And then someone complained about her peeing on the sidewalk grass near their car that was parked on the street and not in their driveway. I mean…really???
Okay Miranda. Blah blah blah. What does this have to do with being triggered? Well, the breaking point was during a weekend trip to a lake in northern(ish) Michigan. Wayne & I had been making jokes about being the only Black people in the area, so it didn’t help when one evening, as we were sitting around the fire pit, this older white woman watched us as she walked by. She kept passing, and I started counting. One..two…three….FOUR times. Maybe she was just trying to get her steps in before the end of the day, maybe this was her regular routine. I don’t really know, but each time she passed and wordlessly looked at us, I was holding my breath, waiting to hear what issue we were causing.
The fourth and final time I saw her walk by, we were putting out the fire. My brain, primed to hear an old white woman comment on my actions, heard her say “Thanks for putting out that fire”. I was fuming! Once we made it back inside, I. WENT. OFF. I saw black. I yelled to Wayne about how frustrated I felt being surveilled by white people and wishing I could live my life without all their watchful eyes and comments. Finally, after about 10 minutes of my constant ranting and raving, Wayne calmly told me that I had misheard the woman. She had actually said “Nice night for a fire”.
I was incredulous. My brain literally could not comprehend. I couldn’t unhear “Thanks for putting out that fire”. I replayed the moment again and again in my head, trying to see it from a different perspective, trying to see where my brain went wrong and I simply couldn’t.
To this day, walking Phoenix still isn’t always a pleasant experience. I still keep poop bags on the ready, ensure I stay mindful of where we are & how we are interacting with the neighborhood, and keep my head on a swivel for watchful eyes. And when I see old white people, I put up a barrier, ready to take their unwanted critiques. There is nothing I can do about these triggers, I simply acknowledge their existence, try to stay mindful of my body and emotions, and work to remove myself from the situation as quickly as possible.
I don’t really have an inspiring end to the story or some takeaway for you to walk away with. I’m not coming out on the other side of this stronger or empowered to make change. It just is a part of my life that I thought I’d share. It’s something I’ve learned about myself and I’m still working to process these triggers in a world hellbent on making me feel uncomfortable and unwanted, forcing me to monitor my behaviors to simply exist.
What’s Playing?
I just booked tickets to see Lizzo…again. So I’m essentially just streaming her music, hyping myself up for a concert that isn’t for almost two months. But I can’t wait!!! Also if you haven’t seen her music video for Special, please fix that.
Recent Reads
I’ve been reading a lot lately and my favorites have been:
Frizzy–This book helped to heal my inner child and her hair trauma. I even thought, I should buy a copy to share with my future child, and then realized that I will be doing my best to not pass these traumas on, so they won’t relate to it the same way. And I didn’t realize that it would make me a little sad, sad for little Miranda who didn’t have this book when she needed it. But also so grateful that my kids will have a happier and healthier relationship with their hair.
Cemetery Boys–a captivating magical adventure that explores gender
Disability Visibility–a beautiful anthology of stories by disabled people
Legends & Lattes–super cute D&D inspired story
Highly Suspicious and Unfairly Cute–just an absolutely adorable romance
Pet of the Week
Since poor Phoenix has to hear the old white ladies yell while she poops (how embarrassing), I have to give her pet of the week.
Joy on the Internet
Gotta include something about rest
How do all dancers not fall in love and get married
Mr. Worldwide played a part in healing my depression so shoutout to him…DALE!
Recent Eats/Yums
I made this carrot cake for a friend’s birthday and it was delicious! If you like icing (and this icing is really good), I recommend doubling the recipe so you can ice the sides.
I hope y’all are enjoying the spring weather! Keep an eye out for another newsletter sooner than later.
See y’all soon!
Miranda