It’s dangerous to go alone – a call to analytical gamers.

The backstory.

A few months ago, my depression and PTSD reached heights previously unknown. It was a very dark, very scary time, and I just didn’t know what to do (therapy and meds aren’t an option for me at this time). I’d been playing childhood video games for distraction, but I felt disconnected from them somehow. I longed to escape my mind, my body, my world, for just a few hours, just long enough to find relief and recenter my focus.

The last Zelda game I’d played was Zelda II as a five-year-old. My husband, Michael, is a HUGE fan of the entire series. So, when we bought Twilight Princess for our Wii a few years ago, I thought I’d give Zelda another try. I quickly grew frustrated — I was used to side scrollers and platformers, and the controls and environment were so overwhelming that I finally quit. But then, a few months ago in the midst of my depression, I remembered more than just the unfamiliar 3D environment and difficulty of navigating in an unfamiliar world. I remembered how interested I’d been in the storyline, how amazed I’d been that a video game even HAD a storyline. And I thought, “Maybe I’ll give it another shot.”

I don’t think I’m exaggerating when I say that The Legend of Zelda: Twilight Princess quite possibly saved my life. At the end of a long day, I would come home, put on the rattiest sweatpants and T-shirts I owned, wrap myself in blankets, and play Zelda. For hours. And hours. The story intrigued me. The characters were lovable and complex. The bad guys ranged from hilariously stupid to frighteningly hard. (I may or may not have thrown the Wiimote and nunchuk across the room and gone into spasms when the boss of the Temple of Time was revealed.) I was able to completely engross myself in a world that wasn’t my world, and in this case a world that reflected the darkness I feared and the beauty I longed for. I was able to literally defeat that darkness. And that was so, so helpful to me.

A close friend, John, was delighted to learn that I had joined the Loyal Lovers of Link (I don’t even know where that came from, okay? I like alliteration). He posited that over his summer break, perhaps he would come over and we would all marathon through every Zelda game that exists in a week. Rather than terrify me, that sounded exciting — though I wasn’t convinced we could play through every game in a week. The idea stayed in the recesses of my mind.

Then I was talking to Sarah about how much we love Zelda, and how nuanced it is and how even better it could be, and how we wanted to write posts about various aspects of the games.

And the two things suddenly melded together in my mind.

I wanted to play every single Zelda game. And I wanted to write about it.

But, after all, it’s dangerous to go alone…

Getting back up.

It’s always awkward to try to figure out how to say, “Sorry I’ve been not posting on my blog!” without feeling like I’m begging for attention or assuming that people actually miss what I have to say.

But the truth is, I have missed writing. At the same time, however, I’ve been dealing with my depression and just kind of soaking in self-care, and thus haven’t had the emotional wherewithal to write.

Hopefully, that will be changing shortly.

Currently, I have a few posts planned, in no particular order:

• Zeldathon: An Ongoing Synchroblog for Analytical Gamers. You can find out a little more about this on my Tumblr, crooked deep down, and contribute to the conversation on Facebook if you’re interested. Basically, let’s all play every major console Zelda game and then talk about them!
• Of social awareness, privilege, and critique. I’m thinking about the phenomenon of this whole “But this person is involved in righting societal wrongs, so they can’t possibly be involved in systems of oppression, so how dare you critique this thing they did or said!” thing that seems to be happening an awful lot within communities that I hold dear.
• On the importance of self-care. I think the title says it all, don’t you?

What are things you would be interested in me writing about? I can’t promise that I’ll take every suggestion (I’m pretty sure I can promise that I won’t take every suggestion!) but I’d love to know if there’s anything you’d like to hear more about from me.

Life’s been very hard lately. Very hard. But I’m getting back up again, I think. And I’m excited about it.

Always. Choose love.

Dear 16-year-old Dani,

Happy birthday a day late! And let me just say right now that you completely and totally ROCK that hair cut. Seriously. Enjoy it. Don’t listen to people who tell you that they’re afraid that it makes your face look fat. It doesn’t. You look amazing. You won’t have hair that short again for a really long time, and you won’t find a style you like as much as this one for even longer, so savor it (even though you’ll get convicted in a few months that you’re disrupting God’s order by having short hair. I wish I could say don’t do that, but we both know that time travel doesn’t really exist).

This picture, ten years later, embodies for 26-year-old-you all of the sheer awesomeness that you possessed at that time in your life. Sophomore year of high school was your year, though you probably don’t realize it. You have a group of friends with whom you hang out regularly. You’re almost popular — at least, the popular kids no longer make fun of you. You are at your musical height — I wish I had your vocal range, and man do I ever wish I was as fantastic of a pianist as you are. Your biggest regret is not-quite dating that loser who swore to you that his girlfriend wasn’t actually his girlfriend and you believed him. You’re doing pretty great. You will look back on this year of your life with tremendous fondness and longing.

There’s so much I want to tell you. Like your current crush really isn’t worth it. (Really. I promise.) And homeschooling is not going to be a good experience for you. Even little things, like don’t get your cartilage pierced at Claire’s…twice. Seriously. Don’t do it.

But if there’s one thing and one thing only that I could impart to you right now, it would be this:

choose love.

Always. Choose love.

When Beauty and the Beast are both within.

This project from Dove has me so introspective today*. Please take a few moments to watch the video.

I don’t have the words at the moment to explain why this speaks so deeply to me.

But part of that is because I’ve sort of started a project semi-similar to this, inspired by a chapter of bell hooks’ “Feminism is For Everybody” in which she talks about the importance of changing the depiction of women in media.

I’ve decided to illustrate the women in my life that I greatly admire.

Mostly because I don’t know a single one of my friends who hasn’t struggled enormously with body image. And I want to capture them, their beauty, in artwork that they can look at on those days when they feel like they’d rather just disappear for good, to remind them that they’re their own worst critic.

But…I’m starting with me.

Because even though I was able to embrace myself for a few short days back in January, by and large I still hate myself. I’m still cruel to myself. I think of myself as monstrous, hideous to behold, an ugly eyesore to all who know me.

I feel very much like the Beast, when perhaps if I were to step back and be honest, perhaps I have more Beauty in me than I thought.

So here’s the beginning, trying to set a style of illustration to follow through my project with. If you like, I can update here as I go.

Initial illustrative style exploration. More to come until I settle on a technique I like.

*While the video meant a lot to me, that doesn’t mean that it and other marketing campaigns of Dove are free from reinforcing the very narrow beauty definitions they decry. Read this article for a very balanced explanation of the more problematic aspects of this video in particular.

Silence.

I always thought that depression and introspection were supposed to fade with spring, not increase.

Then again, maybe there’s not really a timeline for such things at all.

There is so much I want to say. So much I want to talk about, share, unload from the heaviness of my heart and dredge up from the murkiness of the swirling waters of thoughts in my head. There are people who have contacted me that I want to respond to.

But all I can really muster is silence.

Silence, because I’m so wearied by the demands, assumptions, and judgment of people who think that acquaintanceship gives them the right to speak ignorance into my life.

Silence, because I’m so overwhelmed by the people who have offered their stories in solidarity with mine, who have in essence lain down in this ditch with me and said, “I may not understand, but let me encourage you,” because I don’t know how to say thank you when saying “thank you” isn’t nearly enough to express what’s in my heart.

Silence, because I’m trying to focus on the good until I’m strong enough to face the not good again.

So I have nothing really profound to say. I continue to read, listen, analyze, and work out things in my life. But right now, that mostly looks like taking Sherlock to the dog park. Or wearing a skirt in public for a few hours. Or holing up in my basement playing Twilight Princess or marathoning Buffy the Vampire Slayer.

I’m deep in self-care mode, trying to keep my head above water, so deeply lost inside my own head that I’m not comfortable coming out of it right now.

But I will. Soon. I can feel the thoughts organizing themselves into words. I can feel the words forming, the desire to write and interact and socialize is coming.

But for now, I have silence. And it is good.