Unpacking.

Today for my Reproductive Justice class we were addressing what we’ve discussed and just general questions were tossed around. I checked in saying how I was desperate to get home and tend to my mum. The relationship her and I share is more of a rock, however I solemnly believe she needs me more then I need her. Maybe that is my arrogant ‘independent’ self stating that, and perhaps because all she experiences (which breaks my heart I cannot be there for her). Returning to discussion setting, the topic of what is activism arose. The obvious active in injustices, daily life etc and ultimately delved into the not-scene elements like being an ear, buying eco-ethical products, and taking care of [you]. So we had to address that–I feel myself more active outside of my mind and body. Taking care of myself has become consuming food and sleeping. I need to do some major house-keeping inside my head during Christmas break, but then again I will be at home with family and a neglected mum to deal with. After all this being said, I think what I do, read, act and whatnot is for me but a necessary turning off my mind is needed and addressing all the gunk inside me I have been touching upon but isolating and packing away right away.

Ps. The Letter by Virginia Woolf on September 22, 1926 is what I have always believed, but more eloquently put.
“I like people to be unhappy because I like them to have souls. We all have, doubtless, but I like the suffering soul which confesses itself. I distrust this hard, this shiny, this enameled content.”