Hunger makes me.

I love Jenny Slate. Every single thing I've seen her guest on, I've loved her in (Parks & Rec, Kroll Show, House of Lies, Drunk History) and I adored Obvious Child. I follow her on twitter and just think her friendship with fellow-comedian Gabe Liedman is "goals." A while ago she, and a few other female comedians I follow linked to an article by Jess Zimmerman called Hunger Makes Me. I've finally found the time to read it.

Tweeted this last night but tweeting again to today bc I really really think women AND MEN should read this ❤️ https://t.co/vpvyCSevFC

— jenny slate (@jennyslate) July 21, 2016

The piece is great, and you should read it in its entirety.

Though hunger, as discussed by Zimmerman is definitely gendered, a lot of what she talks about could apply to anyone, especially when it comes to being hungry for something.

Hunger, the desire for something, the quiet need, the gnawing, all of it is deeply existential and humanist. The ways in which all of it is internalized, it also seeps out.

Fearing hunger, fearing the loss of control that tips hunger into voraciousness, means fearing asking for anything: nourishment, attention, kindness, consideration, respect. Love, of course, and the manifestations of love. It means being so unwilling to seem “high-maintenance” that we pretend we do not need to be maintained. And eventually, it means losing the ability to recognise what it takes to maintain a self, a heart, a life.

Take it from me - someone who has been celibate due to being traumatised - who is fearful, parts of me shut down. They shut down to just move on and get through the day. It was too much, I was overwhelmed, and it needed to disintegrate over time. I need the tools, I needed the time.

As things get better for me, I can identify the damage. I can see the work I have left to do. It's a lot. It can be overwhelming. On a bad day, I feel like a loser, a pariah, a romantically retarded, socially stunted troll person. On a good day, I think that things change and evolve, and love and care can be both crafted and found.

Women talk ourselves into needing less, because we’re not supposed to want more—or because we know we won’t get more, and we don’t want to feel unsatisfied. We reduce our needs for food, for space, for respect, for help, for love and affection, for being noticed, according to what we think we’re allowed to have. Sometimes we tell ourselves that we can live without it, even that we don’t want it. But it’s not that we don’t want more. It’s that we don’t want to be seen asking for it. And when it comes to romance, women always, always need to ask.

Feeling unsatisfied is a big one. I think it points to the amount of dissapointment we have to deal with as women.

The last few months I've been thinking about what it is I want. What kind of job and lifestyle? What kind of home? What kind of priorities? These are really heavy questions when your default setting is to minimise what you want and move on to other things.

Romance for me is a non-sequitur right now. Celibacy has been the norm, and I still have a lot of work to do when it comes to self-love and my body. But, I can still relate to everything Zimmerman says, because I'm her "before".

Read the piece! Share it with your friends!

Never stop looking for love.

A little encouragement for us prickly types.

By Hyesy Lee.

Illustrations of self-care.

Illustrations by Kristin Matte.

Available as a greeting card / print over on the Paper Kindness Etsy shop. 

Denali.

This was featured as a short film on Super Soul Sunday yesterday, and it just really moved me. It's beautifully filmed, and the love between these two friends is palpable.

There's no love like dog love.

Just gorgeous.

Dogs as an antidepressant.

Julie Barton has a new book out on her relationship with her dog, called Dog Medicine. It's a memoir about her golden retriever Bunker, and how he acted like a a therapy/aid dog and helped her survive her depression.

She also did a short Q&A about the book over on The Daily Dose.

This is a bitter-sweet read for me, I love hearing about the non-medicalized ways we can seek soothing and comfort, but I want a dog so badly, and I miss having one in my life so much, that reading about having one bums me out.

I can't get a dog unless I work closer to home and can go home for lunch, or, I eventually have a partner I co-habitate with, who shares the responsibility with me. And, I don't know if that's ever going to happen - it could never happen. And that bums me out out out.

I think having a pet-friend is a big responsibility, and stories of them being locked-up all day, or returned/abandoned make me furious. So, I take everything into consideration when thinking of adoption, and that's why I don't have a dog. I don't want it to be alone over 8 hours a day.  

Maybe if I end up in a condo building the allows animals, I can walk and dog-sit for neighbours. That would be a happy alternative, that would at least quench my dog urges.

I mean, I notice dogs the way creeps notice a pretty woman. I make eye contact them immediately, more so than I ever have with any other living thing. I talk to them. I want them to walk by me. I like asking them questions I know they can't answer. I want to know their names. If they ignore me it's devastating.

I sometimes babysit my brother's dog and when he leaves, I definitely feel the difference. I don't take him to the dog park. I can't cuddle him at night. I can't pet him while watching a program on TV. If I drop food on the floor, I have to pick it up (the worst).

It wouldn't be so bad if I had dogs around I could help out with, but my friend C moved to Victoria with her dog, and my one friend left with a dog lost it in a recent divorce, and I sometimes feel like I'm the one who is the most upset about the loss. So here I am, I don't even have a proximity dog.

I pulled a few Barton quotes that sum it up well for me:

For me, the fact that I didn’t have to pretend or explain myself around my dog was the most incredible gift. A dog never asks “Why?” I could be as sad as I wanted to be around Bunker and he didn’t care. He just accepted me. 

That's true. Though when I was very depressed and a dog owner, I often felt guilty about not taking the dog out. She'd sometimes look at me and sigh, which was, well, brutal.

I could be a complete sobbing mess and my dog would calmly sit with me, maybe roll over and ask for a belly rub, maybe bump his big butt on mine. All of those actions always felt like a, “Hey, I’m here. Just so you know."

 From what I understand, golden retrievers are magical dogs made of pure light.

And then there are the things we can’t explain, like when we’re in a room alone, feeling bad, and the dog is all the way across the house, but he still comes trotting down the hallway and peeks his head around the door, his eyebrows, so concerned, say, “Person? You ok? Did you forget that I love you?”

That's the good stuff. That a dogs' needs are simple enough, and that they align with a basic schedule of taking care of yourself. Food. Walk. Fresh Air. Maybe some play. Some cuddles. A friend.

I miss having a little furry friend.

I contacted a local animal shelter about walking their dogs, but they seem to be over-run by volunteers of that kind.

For now I'm just going to be a dog-creep I guess.

I'm not even fuzzy...

From Crimes Against Hugh's Manatees.