#incidentally telling myself to snapshot a memory like that doesn't work

[not-poignant]

hello! *peruses unasked flower asks* ummm, if you could give me a Canna, Cock’s Comb ehheeh, Common Boneset, Norwegian Angelica and Rosemallows please! :)

(Okay I love that little eheh at cock's comb tho)

Canna: Do you have any tattoos?

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I do! A giant 'RESIST' in capital letters down the inside of my right wrist, that I actually got long before any actual 'resist' movements over the past few years. I got it around my 21st birthday (actually like a year later) mostly to mark all the things that I'd already survived at that point, and how much of my life philosophy is based off a position of resistance - resisting wanting to kill myself, resisting the darkest paths, resisting my own body when it grows tumours, and so on.

As it's aged, its lost some of it's sharp corners and stuff, but I still like it, though I mostly forget its there now. I'd like to get more tattoos at some point, but money is a big barrier, they're not cheap! (Which is good, because hopefully it means tattoo artists are being paid well).

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Cock’s Comb: Favorite font?

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I don't really know. I use Times New Roman the most while writing (I know, I know), so I guess that's my favourite because I'm voluntarily staring at it for hours and hours every single day. I hate Calibri and often have to force-change documents to another font to be able to edit them, if they come to me in that font. But I also used to write in Calibri, until I had the revelation that I hated writing in Calibri, lmao.

When I was a teenager, and had far less fonts to choose from, I was a passionate fan of Courier New and that's still my favourite font to set poetry in, which I think is an 'old habits die rather hard' thing, lmao.

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Common Boneset: What are you looking forward to?

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I'm looking forward to thunderstorms, whenever they next come.

I'm looking forward to going down south with my mother, though I'm apprehensive about it too, and hope it goes well. I expect it will be exhausting, and an experience, and worthwhile. That's the end of July.

I'm looking forward to a week to myself and I'm not sure when I'll get one.

I'm looking forward to tomorrow (at least right now).

I'm looking forward to the next time we go to Kumo and have more of those Japanese souffle pancakes because souffle pancakes.

I'm looking forward to going to bed tonight.

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Norwegian Angelica: Tell us about your mom.

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I've always had...an interesting relationship with my mother. Though it's very good now. But there are lots of long stories I'm going to cut short here and say that around 11 or 12 years ago I was fed up, and sent Mum a lengthy email (because I couldn't trust I'd be able to speak clearly in person without breaking down and crying) saying that if she didn't get on board with acknowledging the PTSD and where it came from, and didn't confront her own demons in that, I was going to walk away from her and our relationship for good, and I already had my estranged relationship with my father to prove that I wasn't bluffing.

In retrospect, this probably sounds like an incredibly cruel thing to do, but I can't describe to you the years before that, my childhood, the things that led to me making this decision. Only that when I made it, I didn't know what else to do.

But then the most amazing thing happened, and unlike about anyone else in my family at the time, Mum got therapy, and she got help, and she faced her demons, and she decided that she was going to learn about her child instead of doing what she'd been doing in the past. And from there we grew a real relationship. And quite a few years ago now, we started catching up once a week, every (usually) Friday morning.

She's one of my best friends now, I love her to pieces, her bravery and courage in being willing to face up to some hard truths (including - among others - that my father and her husband was abusive), as well as her sheer strength recently going through breast cancer with such humour and grace only a short period after I went through my own cancer journey, like, she's such a role model to me.

I could never have expected that. I loved my Mum growing up, but I never felt like she knew or saw me as a person, which I don't actually blame her for, she sure was Going Through It herself, in a way that I could not appreciate fully as a child, because she protected us from those realities that she experienced and suffered through as best as she could. And now I think she really does try, as I try to meet her where she is in turn. And we see each other as people, not as family roles, and that to me...has an ineffable, lovely quality. Which is, incidentally, why I'm taking her down south for her birthday, so we can spend even more time together.

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Rosemallows: What’s your favorite memory?

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I don't know that I have one. Oh wait, I think...I do, so let's just preface this first though.

The problem I have here is that I've had a life full of depression and PTSD (no literally, my post-trauma started showing in early childhood), and both things can actually cause memory loss or poor memory coherence (unless the memories are traumatic! Do not recommend).

However, I have a glimpse of a memory between me, Glen and Putu, shortly before Putu was bound to leave for Melbourne (for good, he hasn't come back except to visit), where we spent the whole day together, except a break in the afternoon for me to sleep, because true facts - I cannot get through a day without sleeping for several hours in the afternoon.

There was something so golden and perfect about that day. I remember startlingly for me, sitting on the couch and tired and sore (we'd spent the day going to dim sum and then later walking around Kings Park) basking in a feeling I couldn't recall having felt before, and then I think I turned to Putu and Glen and said with some amazement, 'I think I feel content.' And Putu and Glen were like '...yeah...and?' and later I had to admit to Glen I'd never felt the feeling before. Golden and soft, like a cloud.

I think I've felt it once more since then, but I don't remember when. And I don't think I'd felt it before then, either. I would not wish my brain chemistry on anyone. But I'm very glad I got to share that moment with Putu, who is a very close member of my chosen family, for all that I don't get to see him very often anymore.

I can't strongly recall the feeling of the emotion itself. I remember describing it to myself in my head, in complete sentences, and those are the sentences I'm sharing to you now, because my verbal memory is much better than my emotional memory (I have quite serious alexithymia, which would surprise no one, but it's better than it used to be).

And I am relieved that my brain did actually hang onto the moment, mostly because I chanted to myself like a prayer: please don't forget this please don't forget this please don't forget this remember your position on the couch remember where Putu is sitting remember where Glen is sitting remember what you said and remember the time of day and remember what came before.

And, now, I do.

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From the flower asks meme!