patti smith blog
ASK ME ANYTHING
i am so goddamn young
&& born decades too late
&& silly beatnik chick
&& rock'n'roll addict
&& wannabe poet
writer & dylanist & bookworm & painter & nerdy lesbian
& brainiac amour with patti smith
21 years old, helsinki, finland
♥: patti smith, bob dylan, the rolling stones, david bowie, rock'n'roll, allen ginsberg, beat generation, sixties, movies, literature, poetry, philosophy, arts, smoking, blues, writing, tom waits, leonard cohen, quentin tarantino, ray loriga, jean genet, greta garbo, henry miller etc.
i had a breakthrough with my recovering from social anxiety on wednesday, it’s quite an embarrassing story really.
i went to one of those big second-hand clothes stores downtown and found a really beautiful 60s black dress that only hd one small zipper on the side. it looked like it could fit me so i went to try it on. when i was slipping it over me head i had this fleeting thought “shit, this might be really hard to get off” but managed to pull it down anyway and close the zipper easily. it fitted me perfectly - i don’t know if any other dress has fitted me so well ever before. it just fucking embraced my tits and hips and waist, but the fabric was still so thick and unelastic it sucked in my stomach and yeah. i admired this find for a while, and then started to take it off - and the fact that the fabric really was not elastic at all really hit me then. i just couldn’t pull it over my shoulders or get my arms out of the long sleeves, no matter how i tried. i wriggled and squirmed, but no - these nasty things called elbows and shoulders were always in the way. not a lot of options came to my mind at that moment, even though i thought about calling my girlfriend for a moment, or just ripping the dress in pieces and release myself from that beautiful vintage prison. then i just sighed, and faced the inevitable - something i could never ever have done just a few years ago - i opened the stall curtain and addressed the woman who was waiting next on the line to try on clothes. i told her i was desperately stuck in a dress, and asked her if she could help me and pull it over my head. she was really friendly. she laughed and said of course she could help, stepped into the stall and i just helplessly raised my hands and let her strip me out of the dress. i was so vulnerable, i don’t even know how to explain it - i asked a stranger to help me in an embarrassing situation, i was at her mercy, and i let her see me in my underwear - i was only wearing a bra and black tights under the dress. i despise my own body and never even go swimming, because i can’t bear the thought of beeing seen wearing only a bikini. but i just casually did it. i ddn’t even get a panic attack, and i chatted with her briefly after about the dress.
i bought the fucking dress. i’m gonna adjust a zip on the back and it’s gonna be good.
i still don’t understand how i did it. i made a complete fool out of myself in front of her, and she saw me half-naked. maybe she got a good story out of it, or maybe she at least got a bunch of good karma.
however, just a few years back i couldn’t even walk through a subway platform because i was so anxious about other people looking at me.
i still have my bad days, but i’ve come far.
nope, you’re most certainly not, Emilia.
thank goodness. i knew i could trust some other tumblr sapphos are seeing it too.
Anonymous asked: Certain noises, faces and sounds brought back my repressed memories. I first began to dream them and then I began to connect and associate the dreams and the triggers to the real event until it started to piece itself together. I am still working on reclaiming it all.
thank you for answering me, it means a lot. if you ever want to discuss it non-anon, i’m here, but i understand perfectly if this i all you want to share. i dissociate and sometimes get anxiety, fear and feelings of “dream-likeness” over weird things, very random things, and i can’t put any of it together, and i don’t have any memories of any traumatic event, so i have always thought my anxiety and other symptoms don’t have any particular reason. but sometimes it just feels… i don’t know. it bugs me.