Rambling

Today I spent the entire day helping C.'s mom set up for the yard sale. I got a whole boxful of stuff out of it, and some nice free furniture... S. wanted to come over afterwards, but we were tired and very sweaty, and for me, just the time that I spent with her while going to the library and to get something to eat was quite enough. Not because I don't like her -- I do -- but she is a somewhat spoiled little kid and I also have no idea what to talk to her about. I did gloat inside, however, when she liked my vegetable-y sandwich despite C.'s insistence that she "doesn't like healthy things, because healthy things are gross".
I don't understand why so many Americans seem to hold this point of view. Some time ago I saw a commercial -- something about tricking your kids into liking healthy food. But when I was little -- and even now -- I don't sort out what food I like by "healthy" and "unhealthy" -- I just eat what I like and also what my body feels like eating (there is a slight difference between the two, though if you pay attention enough, it mostly disappears). If I feel like eating a salad, it's not because I'm worried about my weight, it's because I fucking like it, and if I am eating a huge piece of cake -- it is also because I like it! And no, I don't feel "sinful" or guilty for eating something that contains fat. Amazingly enough, I do not consider fat to be the Devil himself.
Generally, I think my PTSD is rearing its ugly head again, and there are so many things people don't even think has to do with PTSD that often does, when you have it -- skin picking (it looks like my upper arms have been attacked by ants, but it's hard to stop), disliking certain liquids or foods, feeling like you are going between worlds... yesterday I think I almost cried because my mind became lost back in Russia, where my grandparents disapprove of my every move, where they want to know what I plan to do, and in relation to which I have no fucking IDEA as far as what to do. Whether I will move there, and how, and the house, and if I move there how will I blend in, and how will I get a job (?????), and how everyone in Moscow acts like they hate you, and how would I deal with the racism, the misogyny, the complete absence of feminism, the homophobia... I wish I could just live there without all of that -- I wish I could blend in the dacha, the apartment in Moscow, the forest and the Russian winter and watching on old Russian movies on New Years, with having a wonderful, feminist, supportive family (not necessarily in the blood lines sense, but just a community of some sort -- all of my best friends and favourite people), and having some sort of recognition as an artist. And then after I think about all these things, I feel alone -- none of my friends, in real life or online, are having to choose which country to live in, are having to choose basically their fate and much of the rest of their lives without knowing the outcome... none of them are making a major decision of this kind that either cut them off from everybody and make them bitter, or leave them without a home to go to. Then I feel guilty, because of course they are having their own problems that may be just as bad, just different... ugh. I don't know.