stress

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Burnout, The Grind and My Activist Work: A Vent

A quick sketch I made for this post. This is a very toned-down version of where I’m at. (photo ID: a black-and-white sketch of a small humanoid “snailcat” with his back, shell, and tail to the viewer, holding in one hand a paintbrush with black paint over a bucket while scratching his head with his other hand. he is staring at a brick wall, his shadow over it to his left and a couple of minimally detailed posters to his right.)

Whenever something big and horrible happens, one of the biggest coping mechanisms I have is to redirect any overwhelming crushing despair or anxiety I have about it into doing my part, and doing what I can. I’m an artist, so I know I can make art about it, and I’m a GWST scholar, so I know I can write about it.

That is, I would be able to. IF I DIDN’T HAVE SO MUCH WORK TO DO.

I am unemployed and taking 15 credits this semester, 3 of those including an (UNPAID!) internship where I have to produce 55 entire pages of full illustrations, 5 of which have animated components. I am 3 whole weeks behind on that work, and my timing should work out but it is going to be awful and crammed and I feel sick just thinking about how much catch-up I have to do. I’m not getting paid but it’s good work that I can use in a future portfolio, and it’s for a good cause (books suited to an older reader demographic while providing illustration and comprehension assistance for readers with cognitive disabilities). Meanwhile in my actual classwork I have a major final project with a deadline coming up alarmingly soon that I want to get perfect because it’s an analysis of a video game (ULTRAKILL) and topic (Jack Halberstam’s Queer Art of Failure) that I really care about. So I am already diverting energy into two interdisciplinary activist/GWST-related things I genuinely want to get exactly right. And I feel confident in saying that I am Burnt Out.

All of this was already stressful before, you know. WEDNESDAY NOVEMBER 6TH 2024.

My social media pages that day were full of posts encouraging me to get organized, make art, write thought pieces detailing my unwillingness to give in to the doom and roll up my sleeves. And I would love to participate in any movements that are mobilizing in the context of The Horror That Is Unfolding Before Our Eyes. I know I have the skill to contribute art and work beyond just sharing resources and mutual aid drives (though that is always helpful). And I know I shouldn’t hold myself to the standard of a “good” project being one that is always perfect and brilliant and revolutionary. But in times like this the pressure to make art that perfectly encapsulates the rage just adds to the crushing pressure of the world itself.

It’s a rage I fear I can’t put into words, and seeing all of the art and performance work in disability activist movements we’ve been looking at for class makes me feel like I have something to live up to. But that potential I have is shrouded by the labor required to survive, to get a job, to build a portfolio, to get a degree. And I am grateful that this is labor I can direct passion into, but man I wish it was easier. I wish I had time!!!!!!!

(all this being said, the first thing im doing once i have time is making a sticker with shadow the hedgehog holding the trans flag and saying a raw as hell quote from sonic ’06 so if thats something that interests you, keep an eye out!)

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I’m Tired

I am tired of working and having to deal with people. In the past, I’ve mainly worked in food service jobs but now I currently have one desk job on campus and another job where I work as a cashier. Both jobs require me to talk/deal with customers often which is of course fine. The only thing is I find it very draining having to deal with people sometimes especially since some customers can be rude at times. Of my two jobs, I very much prefer the campus job since it doesn’t require any physical labor and just has to deal with people for the most part. But when it comes to my cashier job I absolutely hate it with my whole heart, since it basically has a combination of both physical labor and emotional labor, with having to work 5-7 hours shifts, standing up the whole time, with having the expectations of giving a smile and happy attitude with each and every customer, while also having to deal with some customers complaining about something every 20-30 minutes. By the end of the shift, I’m always so drained and tired, my feet and back hurt and all I wanna do is just go to bed and sleep.

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Perception VS Reality

If Life is a marathon,
Not a sprint,
How come then,
Everyone is going,
So, so fast
But I,
I’m already behind,
And while everyone else,
Is having a great day,
I toil away 

My legs,
Slabs beneath me,
Holding me up,
But barely,
My lungs,
Burning with every inhale,
About to burst,
But I cannot stop,
I have to keep going,
To get to the top,
I can’t ever,
Ever stop,
I want to pause
Catch my breath,
But that’s not possible,
Because the world won’t stop,
And the non-existing finish line…
Uncrossable

I see them,
In the distance,
So far,
Way ahead of me,
Doing better,
Crushing this war,
Me, however,
A nonstarter,
I struggle to keep up,
Everyone is running,
Sprinting, 
Me, however,
A slow trot, 
Kinda like,
A tortoise a lot,
In a world full of hares,
Speeding by,
We both mosey about

I turn my head,
I see the hares by me,
Wait!
I’m not so far behind?
I’m actually,
Doing kinda fine?
My eyes,
My mind,
They…
They deceive me?
Why?!
How can they not show me reality,
When it’s right in front of me

I turn, Timidly,
I ask, 
The hare next to me,
How its going,
To try and uncover,
The secret of her,
Great stride,
And to my surprise,
“I’M SO FAR BEHIND,”
She bursts,
Impossible.
My mind told me I’M the worst!
Turns out,
I’m not alone,
In my pain, and,
This hare,
Is not a hare,
Just a person,
And I,
I’m not a tortoise

So, I uncover,
Life isn’t a sprint,
Or a marathon,
I figure,
It’s a heckin’ triathlon,
Ongoing and never-ending
And I,
I’m not the only one,
Who struggles,
Because the hares aren’t hares,
And my eyes,
My eyes lie:
I’m doing just fine,
Jogging,
In my own time

“You’re Really Good At Taking Everyone’s Sh!t”
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“You’re Really Good At Taking Everyone’s Sh!t”

Whose Fault Is It?

Emotional labor is the act of “regulating or managing emotional expressions with others as part of one’s professional work role”. For the context of this blog post, I will also be referencing emotional work as well, which is the role people use in any social context.
RANT: Every post, YouTube video, and link that I looked at typically focused on the emphasis of how women have been the brute focus of emotional work and often, labor. WHAT ABOUT THE MEN?!
BLOG: Ideally, men have been the focus, but in our current generation, I am starting to wonder if men are becoming the scapegoat for blame. There are good and bad things to this, but I can only share my experiences. From growing up in a household as an adopted child to working in hospitality at some of the best hotels in the Houston area, to coming home and being expected to “clean up everyone else’s shit” (one of my ex’s fathers literally told me this and suggested I work for some type of plumbing company) to experiencing my own version of emotional labor is…exhausting. As a recommendation, if you’re dealing with being the emotional laborer of your family or workplace, I suggest counseling, good friends, hobbies, and money.
Now that I have your attention, the emphasis on emotional labor during this period of the class was for women. Honestly, I love that. Often, the strongest women in my life have carried the emotional labor of EVERYONE in the family. My Grandmother (capital G, because she truly is a G), and my Aunt (who raised me, God bless her soul) have not only raised multiple members of the family but have guided others and influenced people for generations to come. I can endlessly explain what they have done for everyone, including my impaired brother (this falls into the disability category of the past few weeks, but I decided to not go in-depth with these issues and instead focus on emotional labor…anyway) My Grandmother has done amazing things as a widowed woman, and when my grandfather was alive, what I recall of him, he was a remarkable man, veteran, and overall generally good person. In order for him to be that he needed to have an even stronger woman there to not only support him, but to motivate and guide him. We so often focus on a certain gender, but I think its vital to focus and include everyone because we cannot physically do it all on our own – even if social media suggests that we do.
When it comes to emotional labor for myself, as an older male, I grew up with the family vibe of “you want it? Do it yourself” This mindset has its own version of toxic masculinity and it worked for a time, but as I have grown older and started practicing gratitude, meditation, and fitness, I have learned that kindness is the key to growing. However, that is also the curse of being easily manipulated and being the scapegoat out of a lack of emotion – if you allow yourself to be. When working as a hotel supervisor, I found myself taking on the emotional verbal abuse of people that travelled so far and attempted to check in, but one minor inconvenience (Well…one time there was a major inconvenience, we sold out and by the time they got there…the people didn’t have a room… and they were diamond members which is equivalent to being a traveling version of Karen) set them over the top, and I had to apologize profusely, make up for their issues by giving them a free nights stay at another hotel, etc… all while keeping a smile on my face. So dumb, but it was vital in learning how to maneuver around people when they are angry and teaching myself how to stay calm in the face of disappointment. That’s an invaluable trait and lessons/memories that I am grateful for.
I don’t know, I am a believer in the idea that everything happens for a reason. Maybe I should allow myself to be the gatekeeper of my own “shit”, to be more selfish and selfless at the same time, and to lack the attempt to understand everything and everyone around me but I cant do that shrug. In essence, I think all of us must have some type of role in emotional labor, but please, don’t forget to take care of your mental, physical, and financial well-being. Your family, friends, and pets will thank you for it. (I will always choose to be kind and thank you to all of the people in my life, wouldn’t be me without YOU).

on reclaiming your own agency
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on reclaiming your own agency

“Being perfect is boring, failing is fun.”  I’ve been reflecting on that phrase my roommate shared with me a few nights ago.  I had opened up quite a bit about my struggles with managing academic responsibilities with the expectations of my parents, in addition to whatever standards I have set for myself.  Unfortunately, “perfection,” or something close to it, is the end goal I’ve been conditioned to pursue throughout my academic career.  This has been farther compounded by the fact that I earned the title of the smart kid out of my four siblings (I even got the nickname “professor” for at least a year and a half).  Pair this with constantly having others comment on the excellence of your family and siblings, and now I’m not just chasing after perfection for my own sake, but to uphold my family name.   

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untitled thoughts

Floating Steven Universe GIF - Find & Share on GIPHY
steven universe drifts away into a canopy of yellow stars and a pink and blue sky

Lately, I’ve been realizing just how challenging it is to recognize my own harmful habits and ways of thinking, interrupt them, and embark on a healing process.  Although something like this has happened several times in the past, it only took a few deadlines and assignments to launch me into a spiral of over-analysis, self-criticism, anxiety, avoidance, and distraction.  All the while, I felt powerless to stop this process, and I really hate that!  

You see, what I had been struggling with up to that point was a couple papers, a presentation, replying to emails, doing weekly readings and assignments; all pretty mundane tasks, but ones that can feel like mountains with impossible summits some weeks.  Even so, as I start to slip and fall behind, one part of my brain reassures myself that I’ll catch up on everything “over the weekend,” no problem, without the need to ask for help or communicate in any way.  Another part is already recognizing the warning signs, pointing out my flaws, and criticizing myself on where I need to do better.  The most destructive side deals with all this noise by shutting down completely. Sleeping in until 3pm, skipping meals and classes, being anxious to leave my room, neglecting self-care, and raking up my screen-time on Genshin to do nothing but avoid, avoid, avoid, avoid has indicated there is a bit more than academic stress below the surface.   

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A Shaky Start to the New Year

I don’t think my hands have stopped trembling since move-in day.  I’ve always had hand tremors, yet the neuroscientist my concerned mother urged me to visit assured me that it’s merely one of many cases she has seen of physiological tremors.  Surprisingly, it’s a phenomenon that is surprisingly very common and one that isn’t dangerous.  True, while this isn’t a condition that severely interferes with my life in the day-to-day, it’s often a channel through which emotions manifest in my body.  This is where my problem begins.  

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When Failure is Radical.

Affirmations from an unreliable drop out –

I have failed to work with a system that prioritizes productivity over personhood.

I have chosen moving forward over suffering

I will accept myself to spite a value system that does not want acceptance – but always striving for “better”. If I internalize it, that I am always striving for “better”, then I build a comfortable place for the belief that I will never be enough, to rest upon. Instead, I will build space within myself to be less than ideal. 

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Queer Brokenness: Intersection with Mental Illness

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Image Source: http://trauma.blog.yorku.ca/2015/12/south-asian-queer-community-lacks-visibility/  (Artist – Jinesh Patel)

(Content and Trigger Warning: Self Harm, Suicide, Substance Abuse, Emotional Abuse, Intimate Partner Violence, Bullying)

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I often find that mental illness and queerness aren’t addressed properly or constructively when talked about together. So often the public at large would have us believe that queerness is a result of mental illness or that mental illness is the result of queerness exclusively. With this in mind, the queer community will often push back on society’s behavior by talking about the two exclusively from each other, frequently ignoring all the ways mental illness intersect. That’s does not go to say that queerness is the result of mental illness or vice versa at all, but rather it shouldn’t be ignored that many people in the queer community go through both because of the way society has constructed and reacted towards queerness. For example, queerness has often been perceived as a deviant thing, it has historically been punished and worked against in a variety of ways. Continue reading →

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Can you see my oppression?

For a couple of weeks, I have noticed something that has been circling my life, that something is oppression. Continue reading →