Dangerous Compassions

radical mental health is for whoever

We had a radical mental health thing, last night.  Around half the people were new, so it was hard to impart the group’s culture because the new people seemed anxious and awkward, so they were creating their own culture of mild fear.

Still, there were some great moments.  I was listening to people talk about their pasts and presents with mental health and felt like I was doing something meaningful–helping them be heard when they otherwise might not be.

Even people who were really upset, I felt I could listen with a good attitude.  When I spoke, I tried to say some stuff I didn’t do a good job saying.  But my halfway is better than nothing.

My good friend offered to help me clean my desk.  It’s at the worst it’s ever been, any desk I’ve ever had.  It’s pretty amazing.  The layers.  So many half-finished projects. 

At first I wavered.  Did I really want someone else helping me with such a personal thing?  Not that I didn’t want them to see the stuff–more than it’s kind of embarrassing, and I wondered if I would get upset in a way I didn’t want anyone to see. 

This friend wants to help.  I thought maybe I want help more on my terms.  But my terms aren’t working.

I feel skeptical of this whole anti-cluttering thing.  Minimalism?  I see the appeal, but it seems too faddish.  I’d like a medium amount of stuff.  I know I have too much stuff, but ambition about it scares me.

My good friend said it can be addictive, getting rid of stuff.  Things are always changing.  I don’t want any addictions.

They offered to sort my desk papers.  Basically–this is a letter, this is a zine, this is stationery, this is some random scrap of something.  It’s a lot of paper, but there are objects also.  Then, putting like with like and categorizing, I could find new places for things and get rid of a lot.

Then I feel maybe it’s stupid to involve someone else.  Why can’t I do this myself.  But it’s not getting done, by myself.

Anyway, I said yes.  Things can’t stay as they are.  I want help, and my fears about it seem stupider than inaction.  I mean, I would rather risk action than inaction.

I need to look at the calendar and re-situate myself.  I was looking forward to the meeting a lot, last night.  Now I need to look beyond it.

My new shirt got three compliments.  I think I like it.  Historically, there have been few words I’ve wanted on me like that.  I was wondering if it would be too much to chew on, but people seemed not disturbed by it.

Love to all the crazy people, sick people, psychonauts, curious people, takers of risks calculated and uncalculated.  People who do fun stuff, new stuff, misunderstood stuff.  People who know we will be misunderstood and do it anyway.

By Laura-Marie

Good at listening to the noise until it makes sense.

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