I haven't updated in forever, mostly just...trying not to be super negative and thus ignoring a lot of my problems. I've moved into my new place now, away from the roommates. So that's one less stressor, however...I was already on my way to the depths when that happened a few weeks ago, so...It helped, but I'm still there.
Sometimes all the coping mechanisms in the world, all the positive thinking, all the attained goals, everything that can be used to stave off that inevitable darkness, just doesn't work. So I found myself there again, and it...wasn't great. My new job is incompatible with my crazy so far, apparently. It sets everything off and right now I have no idea how I'm going to be able to attend school and work and succeed at both. Yeah, it's that bad. Personal hygiene? Holding by tmyhe skin of my teeth, but still struggling. Keeping my house clean? Well...it's better than it was in similar situations in the past, but I wouldn't want anybody over. It got bad.
I have this thing about bugs and always have. I think they're really cool...as long as they're outside and nowhere near me. I've had waking nightmares (bordering on hallucinations) about bugs ever since I was kid. This was reinforced by living in a few places with bug issues. Now I live in an area with big bugs. And one was in my house. Based on stuff I looked up online, the bug I killed was an American Roach. I went off the deep end a little, though my friends talked me down online. Best brother ever. I was seeing and feeling bugs that weren't there. When I'd look closer I'd know they weren't there, wouldn't see anything, but the smallest piece of lint could explode in my mind's eye into...an infestation of bed bugs.
Sometimes bearing the weight of it all is the hardest thing on earth. I am so afraid of not being able to follow my dreams. I spent so long not even admitting I *had* dreams. Then I dismissed them as impractical, and went after something doable that at least wouldn't make me miserable. Finally I pursued them and discovered...I can have them. I am not a person whose dreams outstrip their abilities. But...having to battle back the dreck of my insanities every day so that I can have a paycheck that just barely covers my needs at this point...it's exhausting and disheartening.
But I keep on keeping on, as they say. I don't know what else to do. I'm holed up in my apartment most of the time. I'm starting to emerge in my head a bit, but interacting with other human beings face to face is an issue. Times like these I really wish I could win the lottery (lottery tickets are one of my coping mechanisms, actually. It tricks my crazy into thinking I can quit my job and thus gives me less grief about it) and just...get healthy. Go to doctors between now and fall semester, get dental work done (I have wisdom teeth rotting in my skull), physical therapy, regular therapy, and just...yeah. Have the time, money, and leisure to just get myself in a better place.
In the meantime I just soldier on, with my wonderful cheerleaders reminding me that I can, indeed, do it. The friends who say "AJA AJA FIGHTING" in spite of never watching the kdramas I got the phrase from. The friends who know to say "HWAITING" who have recommended more dramas to me. The friends who let me go silly on them, but can handle it when I become the angsty wonder. I love my friends, because I wouldn't be able to sustain a job that keeps a roof over my head without them.
And now I'm emerging a bit. I'm writing for myself for the first time in...months. I finally am working again on a project I started weeks ago. I'm hoping I'll be able to start reading more again (yes, that is how bad it's gotten. I couldn't READ). So hope remains, and keep your fingers crossed for me.
Showing posts with label angst. Show all posts
Showing posts with label angst. Show all posts
Sunday, April 13, 2014
Friday, September 27, 2013
Food
My relationship with food is kinda fucked. That would be the technical term of course. But it's true. I've a really screwy relationship with food that is all wrapped in my self-image, insecurity, childhood, and a whole lot of other things. As a child I would hide food in my room. Even as an adult I would feel the need to hide what I was eating. I would sneak food even though it was perfectly okay for me to be eating what I was eating.
I'd been making strides, I really had! I'd gotten to the point where I was basically eating three meals a day. I even ate in public! In the student center. Sometimes. And by sometimes I mean rarely, but STILL. Progress had been made. I was eating, then I was starting to eat healthier, and...things were looking up. I felt so hopeful.
Flash forward to the present...
It's the partially the financial stress, but part of it is seeing so few obese people on campus. I'm surrounded by people a decade younger than me and half my size. I have not had any of the past bad experiences happen to me yet, but I've also not given them an opportunity to happen.
Yesterday I would have gone the whole day (on a long day I'm awake between 3.30 and 4 and leave by 5 AM, not to get home til around 9 PM) having eaten nothing but a small piece of chicken, a peppermint and an energy drink (I do not include water intake because caloric value). I ended up being hungry, which shouldn't be surprising but was. I can usually submerge those feelings quite successfully. I had no money to spare, because honestly the caffeine necessary to ensure that I don't die a fiery death on the freeway was more important. What's a girl to do? Start bitching fruitlessly on the internet of course! I didn't think there was anything to be done and...I'm a whiner at times. I really am.
An amusing conversation developed on Twitter which ended up becoming about mechs. Hilarity was had by all. Hardy har. One friend suggested mooching food off someone, but even if someone had been eating that would have been impossible. I can only mooch off of people I've shared food with in the past. Another suggested I mug someone for food, which was appealing simply for the entertainment value.
Meanwhile, on Facebook, I was messaging with one of my "internet girlfriends" and bitching there. Little did I know that she was being proactive. Shortly she messaged me, informing me that not eating for 12 hours was unacceptable and that she was going to buy me dinner via online ordering. Dinner was delicious and she was duly declared the best "internet girlfriend". But...
It made me realize that I've been pulling stunts like that for a month. Do I eat that little all the time? NO. Have I been starving my body of nutrients because of anxiety over finances and insecurity around strangers? YES. Even when I'm at home I'm guilty of this, because I am uncomfortable with the fact that my friends are feeding and housing me for free when they have so little money to spare.
So in a nutshell what's going on? I have fantastic friends and my brain is fucked.
I'd been making strides, I really had! I'd gotten to the point where I was basically eating three meals a day. I even ate in public! In the student center. Sometimes. And by sometimes I mean rarely, but STILL. Progress had been made. I was eating, then I was starting to eat healthier, and...things were looking up. I felt so hopeful.
Flash forward to the present...
It's the partially the financial stress, but part of it is seeing so few obese people on campus. I'm surrounded by people a decade younger than me and half my size. I have not had any of the past bad experiences happen to me yet, but I've also not given them an opportunity to happen.
Yesterday I would have gone the whole day (on a long day I'm awake between 3.30 and 4 and leave by 5 AM, not to get home til around 9 PM) having eaten nothing but a small piece of chicken, a peppermint and an energy drink (I do not include water intake because caloric value). I ended up being hungry, which shouldn't be surprising but was. I can usually submerge those feelings quite successfully. I had no money to spare, because honestly the caffeine necessary to ensure that I don't die a fiery death on the freeway was more important. What's a girl to do? Start bitching fruitlessly on the internet of course! I didn't think there was anything to be done and...I'm a whiner at times. I really am.
An amusing conversation developed on Twitter which ended up becoming about mechs. Hilarity was had by all. Hardy har. One friend suggested mooching food off someone, but even if someone had been eating that would have been impossible. I can only mooch off of people I've shared food with in the past. Another suggested I mug someone for food, which was appealing simply for the entertainment value.
Meanwhile, on Facebook, I was messaging with one of my "internet girlfriends" and bitching there. Little did I know that she was being proactive. Shortly she messaged me, informing me that not eating for 12 hours was unacceptable and that she was going to buy me dinner via online ordering. Dinner was delicious and she was duly declared the best "internet girlfriend". But...
It made me realize that I've been pulling stunts like that for a month. Do I eat that little all the time? NO. Have I been starving my body of nutrients because of anxiety over finances and insecurity around strangers? YES. Even when I'm at home I'm guilty of this, because I am uncomfortable with the fact that my friends are feeding and housing me for free when they have so little money to spare.
So in a nutshell what's going on? I have fantastic friends and my brain is fucked.
Friday, September 20, 2013
On stress and the lack of booze
I so wish I had money to buy booze. I so wish that I wasn't such a responsible adult that if someone were to GIVE me money for booze I would set it aside for gasoline and other such necessary sundries. SIGH.
I'm stressed. So stressed. I have no job. I had an interview for Amazon for a job that I was under the impression was flexibly scheduled. Which it rather is...as soon as you get through the month of training on a 7 AM to 4 PM schedule. I would not have wasted so much time if I'd know. Le sigh.
So now I look for a job. And look. And look. And apply. And look. I have received no replies, which is both frightening and disheartening. Which gets my crazysauce all up in a tizzy telling me "WHO THE FUCK WOULD HIRE YOU. YOU ARE EXHAUSTED. EVEN IF YOU GET A JOB YOU'LL LOSE IT BECAUSE YOU HAVE NO FUCKING ENERGY." Day in, day out, with the mental screaming. No many how many times I tell it to shut the fuck up. This is why I need booze.
You see, I'm a happy drunk. It makes me feel better. It helps with physical pain too (OH that's the other thing, the area in which I am living HATES MY SINUSES. Don't worry, fibro's still doing pretty good). It's just...a relief. Which is part of the reason I don't drink much because I've already put such a load on my liver with the painkillers that I don't want to kill it with booze. Because it would be quite easy to become a functioning alcoholic. I also refrain because I don't have the money to be a functioning alcoholic. Sigh.
But I wish I had a bottle of something deliciously alcoholic. You know, the kind of stuff that has you drunk before you even start tasting the booze. I wish I had that bottle all to myself. I would huddle in my room and get drunk and giggle and possibly flirt on the internet. Or maybe just giggle on the internet. I would feel better for a time, and more importantly it would be a release valve for the pressure I feel myself under.
Alas. I have not the money nor the irresponsibility to booze it up.
Alas
Alas
Alack
Oh woe is me.
SIGH.
I'd say AJA AJA FIGHTING, but I'd rather have the booze *pout*.
I'm stressed. So stressed. I have no job. I had an interview for Amazon for a job that I was under the impression was flexibly scheduled. Which it rather is...as soon as you get through the month of training on a 7 AM to 4 PM schedule. I would not have wasted so much time if I'd know. Le sigh.
So now I look for a job. And look. And look. And apply. And look. I have received no replies, which is both frightening and disheartening. Which gets my crazysauce all up in a tizzy telling me "WHO THE FUCK WOULD HIRE YOU. YOU ARE EXHAUSTED. EVEN IF YOU GET A JOB YOU'LL LOSE IT BECAUSE YOU HAVE NO FUCKING ENERGY." Day in, day out, with the mental screaming. No many how many times I tell it to shut the fuck up. This is why I need booze.
You see, I'm a happy drunk. It makes me feel better. It helps with physical pain too (OH that's the other thing, the area in which I am living HATES MY SINUSES. Don't worry, fibro's still doing pretty good). It's just...a relief. Which is part of the reason I don't drink much because I've already put such a load on my liver with the painkillers that I don't want to kill it with booze. Because it would be quite easy to become a functioning alcoholic. I also refrain because I don't have the money to be a functioning alcoholic. Sigh.
But I wish I had a bottle of something deliciously alcoholic. You know, the kind of stuff that has you drunk before you even start tasting the booze. I wish I had that bottle all to myself. I would huddle in my room and get drunk and giggle and possibly flirt on the internet. Or maybe just giggle on the internet. I would feel better for a time, and more importantly it would be a release valve for the pressure I feel myself under.
Alas. I have not the money nor the irresponsibility to booze it up.
Alas
Alas
Alack
Oh woe is me.
SIGH.
I'd say AJA AJA FIGHTING, but I'd rather have the booze *pout*.
Friday, September 13, 2013
Romance, or the lack thereof
I've actually got two things to ponder about under this heading, but only one might get written about. It depends on how quickly I run out of energy. The sinus thing drained me and I missed two days of school because of that. That means it was a week between long days, so I've also got sore legs from all of the walking yesterday. All that to say: I'm tired, we'll see how much I write.
So. Romance. I've made it very clear that I am actively avoiding it currently. Right now actively avoiding it has just meant making clear to my dear matchmaking friend that I really want her to NOT set me up. At school it's not an issue because there's still only about five people on campus I'm comfortable talking to. Well, students, I mean. Obviously I have to talk to my teachers and their TAs. While that would not necessarily be an impediment (we'll ignore my views on what college boys who are too young for me (can't sing the inspector gadget theme song? you're out of luck! ;) ) are probably attracted by), I'm currently in the habit of NEVER making eye contact whilst traveling between classes. So. Yeah. Actively avoiding romance.
I feel so envious right now though. I know I'm not in a healthy place for a relationship, because I haven't figured out why I pick the people I do nor have I figured out how to change that behaviour. But...*whine* I miss cuddling and twitterpation. The complicated crush, remember him? Anyways, he has been very successful lately on the romance front. I know other people who have been too, but I'm more aware of how he acts in those situations than I am of friends where there is not that complicated history. He and I are also alike in certain ways, so... It's just really easy for me to imagine what life is like right now for him. And...it makes me melancholy. Not because he's happy, or because of some kind of twisted jealousy, but...because...I want that even while I don't.
I don't want to deal with a relationship right now because I do NOT have the emotional energy. I don't want to be in a relationship right now, because I don't think I would choose a healthy one. I have a lot of reasons for wanting to remain single. But I still miss the emotional and physical closeness of being in a relationship. Not so much the sex (which is another issue I have to deal with) but more the affection. I'm just kind of lonely in that respect...and yet I treasure my solitude. It's just fucked up.
Okay, I'll write about the other because it's less depressing. SO...yeah...okay...um...right. I have been writing what Tyler calls "vignettes" of a romance story. Well, I mean, it's kind of two in my head but I've only actively worked on one of them because the second depends on the first. I am frustrated because I kind of have writer's block. It's not exactly that I don't know what I want to write, it's more that I cannot write more without a better mental image of one of the main characters. I've got two very solidly in mind, I can visualize them. No problem. The third is pretty solid, but I have a little bit of trouble because that's the one that is involved with the troublesome one. The fourth is just...UGH. I can't figure her out. I have only one bit of a scene written with her in it and it's phone dialogue. I can't see her as a person so I have the scenes that I sort of plotted out, but I can't write them because I can't fully visualize her reactions and dialogue. I know where the scene will end up, I have an idea of how the other characters would react, I know how it feeds into the larger plot, but I can't write because I don't know what she'll do.
So those are my two romance problems. There's not much that I've been able to figure out for either one, but, fuck, life happens right. I'm doing a lot of AJA AJA FIGHTING because I'm tired and it helps.
So. Romance. I've made it very clear that I am actively avoiding it currently. Right now actively avoiding it has just meant making clear to my dear matchmaking friend that I really want her to NOT set me up. At school it's not an issue because there's still only about five people on campus I'm comfortable talking to. Well, students, I mean. Obviously I have to talk to my teachers and their TAs. While that would not necessarily be an impediment (we'll ignore my views on what college boys who are too young for me (can't sing the inspector gadget theme song? you're out of luck! ;) ) are probably attracted by), I'm currently in the habit of NEVER making eye contact whilst traveling between classes. So. Yeah. Actively avoiding romance.
I feel so envious right now though. I know I'm not in a healthy place for a relationship, because I haven't figured out why I pick the people I do nor have I figured out how to change that behaviour. But...*whine* I miss cuddling and twitterpation. The complicated crush, remember him? Anyways, he has been very successful lately on the romance front. I know other people who have been too, but I'm more aware of how he acts in those situations than I am of friends where there is not that complicated history. He and I are also alike in certain ways, so... It's just really easy for me to imagine what life is like right now for him. And...it makes me melancholy. Not because he's happy, or because of some kind of twisted jealousy, but...because...I want that even while I don't.
I don't want to deal with a relationship right now because I do NOT have the emotional energy. I don't want to be in a relationship right now, because I don't think I would choose a healthy one. I have a lot of reasons for wanting to remain single. But I still miss the emotional and physical closeness of being in a relationship. Not so much the sex (which is another issue I have to deal with) but more the affection. I'm just kind of lonely in that respect...and yet I treasure my solitude. It's just fucked up.
Okay, I'll write about the other because it's less depressing. SO...yeah...okay...um...right. I have been writing what Tyler calls "vignettes" of a romance story. Well, I mean, it's kind of two in my head but I've only actively worked on one of them because the second depends on the first. I am frustrated because I kind of have writer's block. It's not exactly that I don't know what I want to write, it's more that I cannot write more without a better mental image of one of the main characters. I've got two very solidly in mind, I can visualize them. No problem. The third is pretty solid, but I have a little bit of trouble because that's the one that is involved with the troublesome one. The fourth is just...UGH. I can't figure her out. I have only one bit of a scene written with her in it and it's phone dialogue. I can't see her as a person so I have the scenes that I sort of plotted out, but I can't write them because I can't fully visualize her reactions and dialogue. I know where the scene will end up, I have an idea of how the other characters would react, I know how it feeds into the larger plot, but I can't write because I don't know what she'll do.
So those are my two romance problems. There's not much that I've been able to figure out for either one, but, fuck, life happens right. I'm doing a lot of AJA AJA FIGHTING because I'm tired and it helps.
Saturday, February 2, 2013
Engaging in Escapism
Oh Lordy, am I ever! It's a little weird for me tho. This level of escapism (as in, resembling addiction and negatively impacting some very important life stuff) is a lot more typical of crazysauce than fibro. My crazysauce is currently in a really good place, so feeling this disconnect and the escape compulsion is...different.
My fibro is flaring. Like...ALL the time. It's the hazard of living where I am. I am on the edge of exhaustion constantly. I have to be careful driving home, because I'm half-afraid I'll fall asleep at the wheel. And I'm taking a foreign language class. Online. This is the class that is suffering the most from my current state, the others require less of me or something IDK. But Korean? GOOD GOD it is suffering. My teacher is extremely nice, but being nice can't help me in forcing my brain to kick into gear. I just stare at my homework and go duuuuurrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr. I took this class because I really WANTED to (and I wanted to before I started getting back into kdramas and such), so the fact that I currently feel so apathetic about it is frustrating.
But I was talking about escapism. Which is related.
So this year I took up the Goodreads reading challenge. I said I'd read 500 books, which is TOTALLY doable with the way I read. I figured I'd fall behind during the quarter and catch up on break. That's not what happened. It's during the quarter and I'm six books ahead on my reading goal. Because all my brain (and body) wants to do is curl up in bed and read, only shifting for the pain. So I'm catching all my math up at the last minute, BSing my way through a 200 level communications class, and totally fucking up my Korean class.
Considering I'm trying to get into a decent university and one of the majors I'm going for is Linguistics...This is discouraging. I know it's not that I'm not interested in the language, I still like it. I know it's not because I'm lazy because I'm working my ass off. I'm doing classes and conversation again, only now conversation includes four partners (one is more theoretical, but that's a whole 'nother rant) and two conversation groups. A week. I'm maintaining okay, but I'm fast getting to the point where I can't pretend anymore in Korean. I just can't think.
And right now? I hurt. I hurt and I want to crawl into bed and into a brain candy book that will give my brain cavities. I have to memorize two dialogues and learn all the Sino-Korean numbers, something I couldn't manage last quarter at all. I have to do this by Tuesday. *opens romance novel*
My fibro is flaring. Like...ALL the time. It's the hazard of living where I am. I am on the edge of exhaustion constantly. I have to be careful driving home, because I'm half-afraid I'll fall asleep at the wheel. And I'm taking a foreign language class. Online. This is the class that is suffering the most from my current state, the others require less of me or something IDK. But Korean? GOOD GOD it is suffering. My teacher is extremely nice, but being nice can't help me in forcing my brain to kick into gear. I just stare at my homework and go duuuuurrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr. I took this class because I really WANTED to (and I wanted to before I started getting back into kdramas and such), so the fact that I currently feel so apathetic about it is frustrating.
But I was talking about escapism. Which is related.
So this year I took up the Goodreads reading challenge. I said I'd read 500 books, which is TOTALLY doable with the way I read. I figured I'd fall behind during the quarter and catch up on break. That's not what happened. It's during the quarter and I'm six books ahead on my reading goal. Because all my brain (and body) wants to do is curl up in bed and read, only shifting for the pain. So I'm catching all my math up at the last minute, BSing my way through a 200 level communications class, and totally fucking up my Korean class.
Considering I'm trying to get into a decent university and one of the majors I'm going for is Linguistics...This is discouraging. I know it's not that I'm not interested in the language, I still like it. I know it's not because I'm lazy because I'm working my ass off. I'm doing classes and conversation again, only now conversation includes four partners (one is more theoretical, but that's a whole 'nother rant) and two conversation groups. A week. I'm maintaining okay, but I'm fast getting to the point where I can't pretend anymore in Korean. I just can't think.
And right now? I hurt. I hurt and I want to crawl into bed and into a brain candy book that will give my brain cavities. I have to memorize two dialogues and learn all the Sino-Korean numbers, something I couldn't manage last quarter at all. I have to do this by Tuesday. *opens romance novel*
Wednesday, November 14, 2012
Trucking along...barely
I'm still struggling with crazysauce right now. The hardest part currently is the paranoia. I doubt pretty much everyone, except for my absolute closest friends. And even with my absolute closest friends I still struggle with feelings of...fear that I'm annoying them maybe? Not that that makes sense right now, as school takes up AAAALLLLLLLLLL my time, so I don't really get a chance to chat with people much and sure as hell don't have an opportunity to overwhelm them with my emotions. The fear's still there though.
The harder thing to deal with is the fear that people are just tolerating me. Or that I've somehow completely offended someone and that they're avoiding me. Never mind the fact that, in the one instance that is at the top of my brain right now, they haven't really been talking to me much in the first place. Never mind the fact that I'm a bit over a decade older than them and they don't know how to talk to me. All that matters to my brain is that they talk A LOT with others in our mutual groups not with me. I understand that they don't know how to relate to me, I understand that we haven't been close from the start, I understand that we probably will never be close. I've understood that, but now my brain is convinced that they HATE me and there's nothing I can do to persuade it otherwise.
It's not even something that matters that much. It's really not. I just...I feel like I'm alienating everyone around me even though I know it doesn't make sense. Because I keep my mental state close, even though I'm open about my mental illness. I just...
Gah. I don't even know what the fuck I'm trying to say. I just feel adrift and isolated inside, while on the outside and I'm laughing and socializing more than I have in years.
The harder thing to deal with is the fear that people are just tolerating me. Or that I've somehow completely offended someone and that they're avoiding me. Never mind the fact that, in the one instance that is at the top of my brain right now, they haven't really been talking to me much in the first place. Never mind the fact that I'm a bit over a decade older than them and they don't know how to talk to me. All that matters to my brain is that they talk A LOT with others in our mutual groups not with me. I understand that they don't know how to relate to me, I understand that we haven't been close from the start, I understand that we probably will never be close. I've understood that, but now my brain is convinced that they HATE me and there's nothing I can do to persuade it otherwise.
It's not even something that matters that much. It's really not. I just...I feel like I'm alienating everyone around me even though I know it doesn't make sense. Because I keep my mental state close, even though I'm open about my mental illness. I just...
Gah. I don't even know what the fuck I'm trying to say. I just feel adrift and isolated inside, while on the outside and I'm laughing and socializing more than I have in years.
Saturday, November 3, 2012
sucktastic yo
Went dancing with my friends today (including a couple new ones). And by that I mean I went with my friends and did shit until my body crapped out less than 10 minutes in. At which point I tried doing stationary bike for a bit while they danced. That lasted maybe 5 minutes. I almost cried while I was watching them learn a new dance.
It's so frustrating to want to do things and not be able to. I'm hanging onto the idea of Arizona like a lifeline, but I know it's not a magic wand. I'm not going to move to Arizona and suddenly be able to do things. I'm going to move to Arizona and have to work REALLY HARD to get myself healthy again. I'm going to have to work out and gradually build myself back up to the strength I used to have (Oh so long ago!). And it's not a guarantee. I could move there and have little to no improvement. I'm still going to have my dental issues because I can't afford the surgery required (yay wisdom teeth rotting in my mouth! :D /sarcasm). I'm still going to be horribly knock-kneed. I'm still going to be massively obese. I'm still going to be crazy. I'm still...
When I think of all the things that I'm "still" gonna be it's downright frustrating. I'm moving there to have a CHANCE, but sometimes it feels like a vain hope. It's like, I can't help thinking in the back of my head "this is going to fall through, you're not going to make it there." or "you're going to get there and it won't help your health AT ALL." or worse of all "You're just a lazy fucking bitch, all this shit is in your head because you don't want to do the WORK required to be skinny and you're still going to be lazy when you move there."
The biggest fight for respect I have is with myself. Nobody thinks littler of me than I do. It's always this nagging voice in the back of my head. "You're unattractive, lazy, stupid, fat, and just plain WRONG." "You're not really poly, you just can't function in a normal, healthy relationship." "You're deluding yourself, you're not queer." Crazy shit. Shit that doesn't make sense. I know it's crazytown because there's no way in HELL I would have CHOSEN to be not-straight with my family. Seriously. I'd rather be straight-up asexual, in all honesty. If I had a CHOICE.
I just don't know what to do when i'm being hammered by crazytown AND fibro. I have heard nothing from SS. I think I missed the deadline for the stupid-ass statement they wanted me to make. How's this for a statement? "I can't do all this shit you're asking me because I'm batshit crazy and have fibro and miss your deadlines because I'm doing this BY MYSELF. Because I don't have the money for a lawyer and my family sure as hell won't help me, because they're half-convinced I'm overreacting. Or lazy. So will you just cut me some fucking slack and HELP ME?!!?"
I have to say "Fighting!" I have to believe in myself. But it's so fucking hard.
It's so frustrating to want to do things and not be able to. I'm hanging onto the idea of Arizona like a lifeline, but I know it's not a magic wand. I'm not going to move to Arizona and suddenly be able to do things. I'm going to move to Arizona and have to work REALLY HARD to get myself healthy again. I'm going to have to work out and gradually build myself back up to the strength I used to have (Oh so long ago!). And it's not a guarantee. I could move there and have little to no improvement. I'm still going to have my dental issues because I can't afford the surgery required (yay wisdom teeth rotting in my mouth! :D /sarcasm). I'm still going to be horribly knock-kneed. I'm still going to be massively obese. I'm still going to be crazy. I'm still...
When I think of all the things that I'm "still" gonna be it's downright frustrating. I'm moving there to have a CHANCE, but sometimes it feels like a vain hope. It's like, I can't help thinking in the back of my head "this is going to fall through, you're not going to make it there." or "you're going to get there and it won't help your health AT ALL." or worse of all "You're just a lazy fucking bitch, all this shit is in your head because you don't want to do the WORK required to be skinny and you're still going to be lazy when you move there."
The biggest fight for respect I have is with myself. Nobody thinks littler of me than I do. It's always this nagging voice in the back of my head. "You're unattractive, lazy, stupid, fat, and just plain WRONG." "You're not really poly, you just can't function in a normal, healthy relationship." "You're deluding yourself, you're not queer." Crazy shit. Shit that doesn't make sense. I know it's crazytown because there's no way in HELL I would have CHOSEN to be not-straight with my family. Seriously. I'd rather be straight-up asexual, in all honesty. If I had a CHOICE.
I just don't know what to do when i'm being hammered by crazytown AND fibro. I have heard nothing from SS. I think I missed the deadline for the stupid-ass statement they wanted me to make. How's this for a statement? "I can't do all this shit you're asking me because I'm batshit crazy and have fibro and miss your deadlines because I'm doing this BY MYSELF. Because I don't have the money for a lawyer and my family sure as hell won't help me, because they're half-convinced I'm overreacting. Or lazy. So will you just cut me some fucking slack and HELP ME?!!?"
I have to say "Fighting!" I have to believe in myself. But it's so fucking hard.
Monday, October 15, 2012
the feels
I have, as they say, "all the feels" right now. Except they're mostly not the good feels. I'm taking another communications class this quarter (Intro to) and we have been given an assignment about performing our identity. I did a rambly video, basically enumerating all my "identities". Then I decided it was a cop-out and decided to do something else. Something I made a video for because just words don't communicate it. I want my classmates to see how it affects me. Then I started getting all panicky because what if she decided to show them in class and I'd have to lead a discussion about something I can't share without tears. The only thing worse than talking in front of people is crying in front of them, and both the subject and stress make me cry.
I emailed the teacher and if she says we don't have to present in class I'm going to submit the video I made for this.
I'm out...but I'm not.
I told my mom that I was neither straight nor monogamous
She told me not to tell the family
and prays for my soul every night.
At school I say proudly who and what I am
while secretly fearing
that it will get back to my family
I say proudly who I am
and then double-check every internet post
video
link
To make sure my father doesn't catch on
I hope someday to meet someone
someone I can spend my life with
not someone who completes me
someone who enriches me
and I don't care what their gender might be
except for when I dream
I dream I fall in love with a girl
and we want to get married
and when I invite my family
to this dream wedding...
They reject me.
In these dreams I have children
children who will never know half their family
and in my dreams I decide it's better to be alone.
I emailed the teacher and if she says we don't have to present in class I'm going to submit the video I made for this.
I'm out...but I'm not.
I told my mom that I was neither straight nor monogamous
She told me not to tell the family
and prays for my soul every night.
At school I say proudly who and what I am
while secretly fearing
that it will get back to my family
I say proudly who I am
and then double-check every internet post
video
link
To make sure my father doesn't catch on
I hope someday to meet someone
someone I can spend my life with
not someone who completes me
someone who enriches me
and I don't care what their gender might be
except for when I dream
I dream I fall in love with a girl
and we want to get married
and when I invite my family
to this dream wedding...
They reject me.
In these dreams I have children
children who will never know half their family
and in my dreams I decide it's better to be alone.
Monday, September 17, 2012
My hair
If it hasn't been clear, I'm in a bit of a slump. My temper is...easily triggered, but I'm managing to swallow most of my reactions. I vent on the internet and try to spend as little time with my family as possible. It's not that they're horrible (though insensitive and ignorant at times), it's just...we're in such close proximity all the time that we periodically get on each other's nerves ANYWAYS. My current state means it just effects me more.
The new quarter is starting soon, and I'm beginning to look at what I need to do to transfer to the University of Arizona. I need to get in. So badly. I don't know what's happening with social security. I don't know how I'm going to do at school with no meds to ease my way. I...just need this one thing to go smoothly. I've had a lot of random roadblocks thrown my way lately and, even though they've mostly been trivial matters, it's getting to me.
My fibro isn't too bad lately, but I'm trying to be more physical and dance and stuff and...am paying the usual sort of cost. It's okay. It's also totally worth it.
So why is the title of this post "My Hair"? Well, hypothetical reader, I'll tell you. I've not so jokingly told people in the past that you can gauge my mental condition by the length of my hair. If it abruptly goes short, it means I've gone into a slump where I forget to brush my hair (we won't discuss the other personal hygiene issues that sometimes accompany the situation). So the hair has matted and I've chopped or had it chopped off. The times I've chopped it myself were...entertaining ;). Particularly the summer time ponytail episode. That time it hadn't matted, the summer weather had just *really* gotten to me. To say it was uneven would be an hilarious understatement.
I've been having moments where it's dawned on me that I haven't brushed my hair in a couple of days. Yesterday...actually, day before yesterday at this point...in any case, whatever day it was, i finally hit a moment where I couldn't just brush the tangles out. Had to cut a small mat out. I have beautiful hair, and it's one of my few vanities. It's been a matter of pride to have my hair this long. I don't think it's been this long in...at least six years, possibly closer to thirteen. But I might have to chop it, because I can't take care of it.
If I do...If I do have to chop my hair off because of mental health I plan on dyeing it an outlandish colour. Because I've never been able to. I won't let it be a defeat, it will merely be an opportunity. If I have to chop my hair off, I will chop it SHORT (and donate to locks of love if the hair isn't too damaged) and dye it lavender.
The new quarter is starting soon, and I'm beginning to look at what I need to do to transfer to the University of Arizona. I need to get in. So badly. I don't know what's happening with social security. I don't know how I'm going to do at school with no meds to ease my way. I...just need this one thing to go smoothly. I've had a lot of random roadblocks thrown my way lately and, even though they've mostly been trivial matters, it's getting to me.
My fibro isn't too bad lately, but I'm trying to be more physical and dance and stuff and...am paying the usual sort of cost. It's okay. It's also totally worth it.
So why is the title of this post "My Hair"? Well, hypothetical reader, I'll tell you. I've not so jokingly told people in the past that you can gauge my mental condition by the length of my hair. If it abruptly goes short, it means I've gone into a slump where I forget to brush my hair (we won't discuss the other personal hygiene issues that sometimes accompany the situation). So the hair has matted and I've chopped or had it chopped off. The times I've chopped it myself were...entertaining ;). Particularly the summer time ponytail episode. That time it hadn't matted, the summer weather had just *really* gotten to me. To say it was uneven would be an hilarious understatement.
I've been having moments where it's dawned on me that I haven't brushed my hair in a couple of days. Yesterday...actually, day before yesterday at this point...in any case, whatever day it was, i finally hit a moment where I couldn't just brush the tangles out. Had to cut a small mat out. I have beautiful hair, and it's one of my few vanities. It's been a matter of pride to have my hair this long. I don't think it's been this long in...at least six years, possibly closer to thirteen. But I might have to chop it, because I can't take care of it.
If I do...If I do have to chop my hair off because of mental health I plan on dyeing it an outlandish colour. Because I've never been able to. I won't let it be a defeat, it will merely be an opportunity. If I have to chop my hair off, I will chop it SHORT (and donate to locks of love if the hair isn't too damaged) and dye it lavender.
Sunday, September 9, 2012
My family (maternal line)
My grandfather is kind of an asshole, but he's gotten better over the years. He and I have butted heads many a time, but we love each other. He doesn't understand me, but he seems to have decided that that doesn't matter. We don't talk about anything much, we just sit together and love each other.
My grandmother is kind of a heinous bitch. She's always mean, but funny. So that when she says something horrible she can retreat to the sanctuary of humour. I love her anyways and acknowledge that a good chunk of who I am comes from her...which is why I'm so very careful NOT to be her. I have as much venom in me as she does in her, but I recognize that that's NOT OKAY. So she's the only person I let the venom loose on, and only when she's doing it to family member. She rarely does it to me, but when she does it's more bitchy than funny.
My step-father is an incredibly sweet man, but...he has a temper and he has communication issues. Overall, I would say he is the parent who's most okay with who I am...I think. I don't know if my mother told him anything after I came out to her, so maybe he's not. He is Republican and votes the party, which means he's voting for people who seem to hate everything about me. He's a caring person who'd give you the shirt off his back.
My mother doesn't have a malicious bone in her body and has what my aunt calls an "innocent" sense of humour. I sometimes have to explain jokes. She loves me, but she doesn't understand me. She should never have had children because she's kind of shitty at parenting. She doesn't know how to handle my infirmities, and how seriously she takes them is really hard to figure out. She thinks I'm going to hell and that I've turned away from God.
My older brother is a sanctimonious prick who knows everything and can't mind his own goddamn business He is incredibly disrespectful at times, and I don't appreciate how he talks down to our parents. AT ALL. .When he pulls that shit on me I have to leave the room. He gets my ire up SO MUCH, that if I don't leave I will say something that will start drama that will last until I move. He kind of thinks I'm lazy and periodically makes belittling comments about my infirmities. He loves me, but he often doesn't seem to like me or my presence. He still gave up his room for me and tries to understand me, as well as helping me out with tangible things like taking care of the car and moving stuff.
My other brother just kind of goes with the flow. He's very much like his father, and I have the least bad to say about him. He needs to mind our parents better, and he sometimes thinks my infirmities are just laziness. But...when I'm cramping up, when my fibro is flaring, he is always willing to try and massage the knots out. When my anxiety is flaring and I can't leave the house by myself...he is usually willing to come with me so I have that safety blanket. That said, he's still a sixteen year old boy.
My aunts are both very different people, but they've made life choices that have left them living solo. One of them is a bitter old hag and the other is sweet and ineffectual. They don't have much to do with my life. Neither do my cousins.
My grandmother is kind of a heinous bitch. She's always mean, but funny. So that when she says something horrible she can retreat to the sanctuary of humour. I love her anyways and acknowledge that a good chunk of who I am comes from her...which is why I'm so very careful NOT to be her. I have as much venom in me as she does in her, but I recognize that that's NOT OKAY. So she's the only person I let the venom loose on, and only when she's doing it to family member. She rarely does it to me, but when she does it's more bitchy than funny.
My step-father is an incredibly sweet man, but...he has a temper and he has communication issues. Overall, I would say he is the parent who's most okay with who I am...I think. I don't know if my mother told him anything after I came out to her, so maybe he's not. He is Republican and votes the party, which means he's voting for people who seem to hate everything about me. He's a caring person who'd give you the shirt off his back.
My mother doesn't have a malicious bone in her body and has what my aunt calls an "innocent" sense of humour. I sometimes have to explain jokes. She loves me, but she doesn't understand me. She should never have had children because she's kind of shitty at parenting. She doesn't know how to handle my infirmities, and how seriously she takes them is really hard to figure out. She thinks I'm going to hell and that I've turned away from God.
My older brother is a sanctimonious prick who knows everything and can't mind his own goddamn business He is incredibly disrespectful at times, and I don't appreciate how he talks down to our parents. AT ALL. .When he pulls that shit on me I have to leave the room. He gets my ire up SO MUCH, that if I don't leave I will say something that will start drama that will last until I move. He kind of thinks I'm lazy and periodically makes belittling comments about my infirmities. He loves me, but he often doesn't seem to like me or my presence. He still gave up his room for me and tries to understand me, as well as helping me out with tangible things like taking care of the car and moving stuff.
My other brother just kind of goes with the flow. He's very much like his father, and I have the least bad to say about him. He needs to mind our parents better, and he sometimes thinks my infirmities are just laziness. But...when I'm cramping up, when my fibro is flaring, he is always willing to try and massage the knots out. When my anxiety is flaring and I can't leave the house by myself...he is usually willing to come with me so I have that safety blanket. That said, he's still a sixteen year old boy.
My aunts are both very different people, but they've made life choices that have left them living solo. One of them is a bitter old hag and the other is sweet and ineffectual. They don't have much to do with my life. Neither do my cousins.
Wednesday, August 22, 2012
Oh good fucking grief
FUCK.
fucken fuckity fuck fuck.
*sigh*
Of course *this* would be the post to follow the "woohoo, we're fucking awesome!" post I just fucking wrote. Of course. Good fucking grief.
Gah.
So.
So I'm not working currently because YAY CRAZY. I'm able to go to school because of medication and an excellent disability services center (as well as supremely fortunate teacher choices). I applied for social security disability because I need to have money. I actually wanted to apply for the shorter term ssi but had a pension I couldn't touch at the time that put me over the resources limit. The pension finally cashed out, I went to apply for ssi. Thanks to fibro flares and summer weather, I am not entirely with it. Long story short I was told I had to reapply for ssd in order to apply for ssi. I had my phone interview today and apparently I'm now doing the court appeal for ssd. Which I don't think is what I was supposed to do.
Here's the thing (and I hate this about myself), while I am turning into a fairly confident person there are still some situations where...and this embarassing...I turn into a complete helpless female. I get so scattered and overwhelmed that I apparently inspire protective reactions and am immediately "managed" for my own good. Now, I will say that I have gotten MUCH better over the years, but with my crazy it's inevitable that I fall into that mode. It's embarrassing (BUT NOT SHAMEFUL).
The guy on the phone was even calling me kiddo and reassuring me. Which was sweet. But just made me feel like an IDIOT when I emerged from my "holyshitcrapfuckIdon'tknowwhattodo" fog. I hate feeling like this. The same thing always happens (and is part of why I'm not currently able to work :/ ), I start doing something or talking about something and my brain goes "clickclickcrap" and I start getting this little panic-y feeling. My brain keeps clicking and I get lost in what I'm saying or doing, I usually start rambling. At this point I could say *anything*, there's almost a disconnect between my brain and my mouth. Don't ask me anything that will hurt your feelings at this point, because my filter is non-existent. Even if you ask me a question, there's no guarantee that I'm going to really understand it and I may start rambling about something completely unrelated. It's a fog of panic (yay panic disorder!) that just reinforces itself. My friends just let me ramble and I'll usually pull myself out of it enough to stop talking (hours later). Some of my friends can even hold conversations with me in this mode (oddly enough I can usually remember what they've said even if I don't *entirely* remember what I've said).
So now, thanks to "clickclickcrap" I am apparently going to have a court date. Woo fucking hoo. Just what I fucking needed. *headdesk* Yay me.
FOR THE RECORD, I am not ashamed of this I'm just embarrassed and frustrated. Someday maybe it won't happen, but I don't really believe that. I'm just hoping that someday I'll be able to direct it well enough that I won't have people rescuing me for my own good. *sigh*.
The thing is, in the back of my mind I sometimes wonder if they're right that I need rescuing for my own good. I know that I have this aversion to being on any kind of government aid (thanks daddy!), and I know this aversion is just causing me to shoot myself in the foot. But I can't help it. My dad would always go on these little rants about the useless people on welfare and disability. HE would always know some exceptions to the rule, but it was clear that anyone who was on government aid was useless and lazy. He had to go on seasonal unemployment at one point and acknowledged that maybe God was trying to tell him something...but it didn't stop him from going on the same as ever.
I know I need money to live. I also know that if I do end up on any sort of government aid I'm going to need a payee because I...just do.
My mom just came in and now I've got HER all confused because we are apparently having two entirely different conversations when we talk. Yay! My crazy is contagious! *cheesy grin* *sarcastic double thumbs up*.
I'm just going to stop talking now. Well, for now ;).
fucken fuckity fuck fuck.
*sigh*
Of course *this* would be the post to follow the "woohoo, we're fucking awesome!" post I just fucking wrote. Of course. Good fucking grief.
Gah.
So.
So I'm not working currently because YAY CRAZY. I'm able to go to school because of medication and an excellent disability services center (as well as supremely fortunate teacher choices). I applied for social security disability because I need to have money. I actually wanted to apply for the shorter term ssi but had a pension I couldn't touch at the time that put me over the resources limit. The pension finally cashed out, I went to apply for ssi. Thanks to fibro flares and summer weather, I am not entirely with it. Long story short I was told I had to reapply for ssd in order to apply for ssi. I had my phone interview today and apparently I'm now doing the court appeal for ssd. Which I don't think is what I was supposed to do.
Here's the thing (and I hate this about myself), while I am turning into a fairly confident person there are still some situations where...and this embarassing...I turn into a complete helpless female. I get so scattered and overwhelmed that I apparently inspire protective reactions and am immediately "managed" for my own good. Now, I will say that I have gotten MUCH better over the years, but with my crazy it's inevitable that I fall into that mode. It's embarrassing (BUT NOT SHAMEFUL).
The guy on the phone was even calling me kiddo and reassuring me. Which was sweet. But just made me feel like an IDIOT when I emerged from my "holyshitcrapfuckIdon'tknowwhattodo" fog. I hate feeling like this. The same thing always happens (and is part of why I'm not currently able to work :/ ), I start doing something or talking about something and my brain goes "clickclickcrap" and I start getting this little panic-y feeling. My brain keeps clicking and I get lost in what I'm saying or doing, I usually start rambling. At this point I could say *anything*, there's almost a disconnect between my brain and my mouth. Don't ask me anything that will hurt your feelings at this point, because my filter is non-existent. Even if you ask me a question, there's no guarantee that I'm going to really understand it and I may start rambling about something completely unrelated. It's a fog of panic (yay panic disorder!) that just reinforces itself. My friends just let me ramble and I'll usually pull myself out of it enough to stop talking (hours later). Some of my friends can even hold conversations with me in this mode (oddly enough I can usually remember what they've said even if I don't *entirely* remember what I've said).
So now, thanks to "clickclickcrap" I am apparently going to have a court date. Woo fucking hoo. Just what I fucking needed. *headdesk* Yay me.
FOR THE RECORD, I am not ashamed of this I'm just embarrassed and frustrated. Someday maybe it won't happen, but I don't really believe that. I'm just hoping that someday I'll be able to direct it well enough that I won't have people rescuing me for my own good. *sigh*.
The thing is, in the back of my mind I sometimes wonder if they're right that I need rescuing for my own good. I know that I have this aversion to being on any kind of government aid (thanks daddy!), and I know this aversion is just causing me to shoot myself in the foot. But I can't help it. My dad would always go on these little rants about the useless people on welfare and disability. HE would always know some exceptions to the rule, but it was clear that anyone who was on government aid was useless and lazy. He had to go on seasonal unemployment at one point and acknowledged that maybe God was trying to tell him something...but it didn't stop him from going on the same as ever.
I know I need money to live. I also know that if I do end up on any sort of government aid I'm going to need a payee because I...just do.
My mom just came in and now I've got HER all confused because we are apparently having two entirely different conversations when we talk. Yay! My crazy is contagious! *cheesy grin* *sarcastic double thumbs up*.
I'm just going to stop talking now. Well, for now ;).
Friday, July 13, 2012
My beliefs
I'm a Christian. No quibbling for me. It's straight up what I am. No particular denomination, and yes the Bible is my roadmap. I've had more awkwardness coming out as a Christian to friends (yes, I am using that word humourously) than coming out as polyamorous. I come out as poly and interesting convos happen. I "come out" as Christian (c'mon people, I'm pretty obvious about it. y'know, reading the Bible, prayer, "I'm a ComeDiest, I believe there is a God and he's laughing at us") and it's "Oh. I'm not."
So? I'm pretty aware of these things. It's kind of obvious when you make appeals to the Goddess or talk about seeing selkies or what have you that we maybe, just maybe, MIGHT have differing belief systems. So what? Who gives a flying fuck? It's not like I hid the fact that I *gasp* happen to technically fall under the "majority" category when it comes to religion. Seriously. It's pretty obvious. I straight up say it. Just because I cuss and realize that there are more things in heaven and earth blah blah blah, none of that means that I'm lying when I show in so many different ways that I am, in fact, a Christian. So why the awkwardness when I tell you? It's like I've told you I have an STD. It's like...now that I've told you I'm a Christian...what? I'm magically going to change into a different person? The fact that it came up in conversation means I'm suddenly a member of Westboro?
Then people tell me there's no prejudice against Christians. Fuck you. Seriously. Go fuck yourself with a six foot, jagged, rusty, cast iron pole. Because that prejudice fucking exists. Remember how I'm the other? Yeah, in most circumstances being Christian makes me the other too. And where every other belief system is shown respect because it's the politically correct thing to do...It's OKAY to tell me that I'm not allowed to believe that. It's OKAY to heckle me when all I've said in response to a question is "Christian". I've not shoveled out hate, I've just been honest about who I am and what I believe. I haven't pushed it on anybody, my relationship with God is very personal and private-not something I share the details of. And that's enough to throw all the rules in our lovely little politically correct subcultures right out the window. Because Christians are fair game. It's not PERSONAL. Just like when someone calls you a faggot, a heathen, a nigger, a chink. It's not PERSONAL when someone takes one of the most personal things about you and starts blasting you about it. It's not PERSONAL when we've gotten along really well, laughing and joking, but suddenly I'm not human. That's the only conclusion I can draw from the way you're choosing to treat me, to put words in my mouth. You call my beliefs hateful, when I have been nothing but supportive and loving to you throughout all your bullshit. Yeah, there are hateful people out there who claim the title of "Christian". I don't deny it. But why treat ME like shit when I. AM. NOT. ONE. OF. THEM. I never have been.
I just...
Gack.
I had the "I'm not" convo with an online friend the other day. It was relevant to the topic at hand. It bothered me. We'd been having a fun little convo, but the minute I used the "C" word...the conversation just stopped. Then I read a blog post by a guy who is basically dealing with the exact opposite situation (not a believer, surrounded by believers who can't seem to accept that). His experiences...just brought all this shit to the front of my mind. I empathize with him, but I don't know how to express it without getting the usual disbelieving response. I mean...
I understand. Christianity is (technically, considering how many vastly different denominations there are...) the religion of the majority. If I remember my census numbers correctly it was something like three quarters of the population. I understand that. But you know what? Christians don't like me. My sexual orientation and lifestyle do NOT fit what mainstream Christianity says is okay. I may not tell them, but they know I'm odd. Even before I knew that I was anything other than asexual they didn't like me. I make Christians uncomfortable for some reason. So, by default, the vast majority of my friends are not Christians. They tend towards the (self-identified) pagan side. My circles are not Christian. My subcultures are (generally) not Christian. While the belief system I technically fall under might be the majority in the general population, I am the minority in my cultures.
I don't even know what I'm rambling about anymore. I just felt...His post just reminded me of all the shit that's been shoveled on my head for not towing the party line and keeping to my beliefs. Because he seems to be going through the same thing, only opposite. He's a hetero, cisgender, monogamous, male who has identified as "not Christian". Oh, and he was raised Catholic, which with my "cult spin-off of the Pentecostal church" is pretty much as different as you can get.
I can't sleep and feel I am losing whatever coherence I had, so g'nite. Or morning actually. And not barely. It's really REALLY morning.
So? I'm pretty aware of these things. It's kind of obvious when you make appeals to the Goddess or talk about seeing selkies or what have you that we maybe, just maybe, MIGHT have differing belief systems. So what? Who gives a flying fuck? It's not like I hid the fact that I *gasp* happen to technically fall under the "majority" category when it comes to religion. Seriously. It's pretty obvious. I straight up say it. Just because I cuss and realize that there are more things in heaven and earth blah blah blah, none of that means that I'm lying when I show in so many different ways that I am, in fact, a Christian. So why the awkwardness when I tell you? It's like I've told you I have an STD. It's like...now that I've told you I'm a Christian...what? I'm magically going to change into a different person? The fact that it came up in conversation means I'm suddenly a member of Westboro?
Then people tell me there's no prejudice against Christians. Fuck you. Seriously. Go fuck yourself with a six foot, jagged, rusty, cast iron pole. Because that prejudice fucking exists. Remember how I'm the other? Yeah, in most circumstances being Christian makes me the other too. And where every other belief system is shown respect because it's the politically correct thing to do...It's OKAY to tell me that I'm not allowed to believe that. It's OKAY to heckle me when all I've said in response to a question is "Christian". I've not shoveled out hate, I've just been honest about who I am and what I believe. I haven't pushed it on anybody, my relationship with God is very personal and private-not something I share the details of. And that's enough to throw all the rules in our lovely little politically correct subcultures right out the window. Because Christians are fair game. It's not PERSONAL. Just like when someone calls you a faggot, a heathen, a nigger, a chink. It's not PERSONAL when someone takes one of the most personal things about you and starts blasting you about it. It's not PERSONAL when we've gotten along really well, laughing and joking, but suddenly I'm not human. That's the only conclusion I can draw from the way you're choosing to treat me, to put words in my mouth. You call my beliefs hateful, when I have been nothing but supportive and loving to you throughout all your bullshit. Yeah, there are hateful people out there who claim the title of "Christian". I don't deny it. But why treat ME like shit when I. AM. NOT. ONE. OF. THEM. I never have been.
I just...
Gack.
I had the "I'm not" convo with an online friend the other day. It was relevant to the topic at hand. It bothered me. We'd been having a fun little convo, but the minute I used the "C" word...the conversation just stopped. Then I read a blog post by a guy who is basically dealing with the exact opposite situation (not a believer, surrounded by believers who can't seem to accept that). His experiences...just brought all this shit to the front of my mind. I empathize with him, but I don't know how to express it without getting the usual disbelieving response. I mean...
I understand. Christianity is (technically, considering how many vastly different denominations there are...) the religion of the majority. If I remember my census numbers correctly it was something like three quarters of the population. I understand that. But you know what? Christians don't like me. My sexual orientation and lifestyle do NOT fit what mainstream Christianity says is okay. I may not tell them, but they know I'm odd. Even before I knew that I was anything other than asexual they didn't like me. I make Christians uncomfortable for some reason. So, by default, the vast majority of my friends are not Christians. They tend towards the (self-identified) pagan side. My circles are not Christian. My subcultures are (generally) not Christian. While the belief system I technically fall under might be the majority in the general population, I am the minority in my cultures.
I don't even know what I'm rambling about anymore. I just felt...His post just reminded me of all the shit that's been shoveled on my head for not towing the party line and keeping to my beliefs. Because he seems to be going through the same thing, only opposite. He's a hetero, cisgender, monogamous, male who has identified as "not Christian". Oh, and he was raised Catholic, which with my "cult spin-off of the Pentecostal church" is pretty much as different as you can get.
I can't sleep and feel I am losing whatever coherence I had, so g'nite. Or morning actually. And not barely. It's really REALLY morning.
Monday, July 2, 2012
Darnit
So I was all set to have an epic (alright, maybe epic is the wrong word, but still) battle involving armor and weapons made from aluminum foil. My fibro has been flaring for the last few days, so I was simultaneously relieved and disappointed when everyone cancelled on me. If they hadn't cancelled, I would have done it and paid for it for DAYS. I know this. But it would have been so much fun!!
It's so hard to formulate coherent and complete thoughts when your fibro and sinus problems are flaring, causing inordinate amounts of pain, little to no sleep, and just plain crankiness. I want to do a bunch of stuff but it just isn't happening. This morning I didn't move out of bed for two hours because I had miraculously found a position where I was barely in any pain AT ALL. Practically pain free is a glorious thing. I finally got out of bed and started hurting. Now I'm just trying to stay awake so that I can sleep tonight, because for some reason I think it will help (even though I know it won't).
It's so annoying. I can't even read right now. I'm the girl who has a serious book habit, but I can't focus on the page and story for longer than a minute. Which is really pissing me off, because I have now started three awesome books and I just can't read them. I found "Skulduggery Pleasant" through the Goodreads recommendations bar and started reading it. Fantastic! I love books that have strong heroines in their early teens, and this book also has an animate skeleton, magic, a sense of humour, and decent writing. It's also the first book in a series, which means that there are more books waiting for me!! I'm a third of the way through and I stare at the page and blink. Sometimes I turn a few pages and can't remember what happened, so have to turn back.
A friend of mine recommended an author to me, so I picked up one of her books at the library. "Discount Armageddon" has as its main character a cryptozoologist who helps maintain a balanced ecosystem...and is a professional ballroom dancer. !!! I'm also a third of the way through that one and am annoyed that i'm having such difficulty reading.
Aside from those two books specifically, I managed to get all the "Vatta's War" books that I had not been aware had been published so I could marathon them...but I can't even get started. As well as the Stevermer-Wrede book "The Mislaid Magician", which is part of a simply marvelous series/world they've created, Betty White's memoir, Lilian Gish's biography, and a number of others that just look fantastic. I have bibliophile grief right now because pain is costing me my ability to process what I'm reading.
Wait. What the fuck. Why is pain costing me the ability to read, but not to write?! There is no fucking justice in the world. FUCK.
Did I mention that my profanity level increases exponentially when my fibro is flaring and I'm tired, cranky, and being foiled in my plans by the universe and my motherfucking asshole of a body? Fucken, fuck, fuckity, FUCK FUCK, fucken bullshit, shitfuck, craptacularly fucked up shitwagon. Fuck is my favourite word right now.
Fuck.
It's so hard to formulate coherent and complete thoughts when your fibro and sinus problems are flaring, causing inordinate amounts of pain, little to no sleep, and just plain crankiness. I want to do a bunch of stuff but it just isn't happening. This morning I didn't move out of bed for two hours because I had miraculously found a position where I was barely in any pain AT ALL. Practically pain free is a glorious thing. I finally got out of bed and started hurting. Now I'm just trying to stay awake so that I can sleep tonight, because for some reason I think it will help (even though I know it won't).
It's so annoying. I can't even read right now. I'm the girl who has a serious book habit, but I can't focus on the page and story for longer than a minute. Which is really pissing me off, because I have now started three awesome books and I just can't read them. I found "Skulduggery Pleasant" through the Goodreads recommendations bar and started reading it. Fantastic! I love books that have strong heroines in their early teens, and this book also has an animate skeleton, magic, a sense of humour, and decent writing. It's also the first book in a series, which means that there are more books waiting for me!! I'm a third of the way through and I stare at the page and blink. Sometimes I turn a few pages and can't remember what happened, so have to turn back.
A friend of mine recommended an author to me, so I picked up one of her books at the library. "Discount Armageddon" has as its main character a cryptozoologist who helps maintain a balanced ecosystem...and is a professional ballroom dancer. !!! I'm also a third of the way through that one and am annoyed that i'm having such difficulty reading.
Aside from those two books specifically, I managed to get all the "Vatta's War" books that I had not been aware had been published so I could marathon them...but I can't even get started. As well as the Stevermer-Wrede book "The Mislaid Magician", which is part of a simply marvelous series/world they've created, Betty White's memoir, Lilian Gish's biography, and a number of others that just look fantastic. I have bibliophile grief right now because pain is costing me my ability to process what I'm reading.
Wait. What the fuck. Why is pain costing me the ability to read, but not to write?! There is no fucking justice in the world. FUCK.
Did I mention that my profanity level increases exponentially when my fibro is flaring and I'm tired, cranky, and being foiled in my plans by the universe and my motherfucking asshole of a body? Fucken, fuck, fuckity, FUCK FUCK, fucken bullshit, shitfuck, craptacularly fucked up shitwagon. Fuck is my favourite word right now.
Fuck.
Tuesday, June 26, 2012
GAH.
I love my brother. I love my brother. I love my brother. No, really, I love my brother. Pay no attention to my hands around his neck, I LOVE my fucking jackass of a brother.
I really do love him, and when we get along we get along really well. When we don't get along...Well, it's usually his fault. You can ask my mom if you don't believe me. Just tonight we watched Freedom Writers which was all feel good and I cried (yeah, I'm that girl, and yes, I cry during poignant scenes in action movies too thankyouverymuch). Through a series of conversational threads that I shall not recount because...I don't really feel like it. ANYWAYS. Through a series of conversational threads that I shall not recount, I mentioned to my mother that the roast beef was moldy and since I didn't know what she wanted done with it I put it back in the fridge. I'd meant to tell her when she got home, but forgot until that moment. Now...we keep the lunch meats in tupperware containers so that we can have smaller portions out at a time and freeze the rest. This is not a new phenomenon, we've been doing it for a long time. My brother starts going OFF on me about how I shouldn't have put it in the fridge because now everything in the fridge is going to mold. He starts lecturing me and criticizing me about putting a sealed container back in the fridge. Have I mentioned that my brother has been through all kinds of counseling and seen all sorts of child psychologist specialists? And that he refuses to take medication because there's nothing wrong with him? It's everyone else you see!
So he's being a critical asshole. I ignore him and start talking to my mother about an acquaintance who always wants my brother to come over to do chores for her. I find the woman incredibly annoying, but it's his business so whatever. This time one of things she needs is for him to dig a hole. SERIOUSLY?! She's more able bodied than I am, and I can damn well dig a hole. I admit it, I started mocking her. My brother says she just doesn't do well with practicalities. I say "No, she's just DUMB". He made some diplomatic statement and I laughed and said this was why I would never be a diplomat. My mom laughed with me, at which point my brother starts lecturing me about being less critical. I think my job dropped. My mom's face was a sight to see as well. I just said "Yeah, well, it begins at home buddy".
I freely admit, the snark is strong in this one. I am a very critical person, but I try to turn that into a positive by directing it towards myself most of the time to facilitate self-improvement. The rest of the time I snark to the friends who find it hilarious. No one gets hurt and I don't wallow in my critical nature. The thing is...Hypocrisy bugs me. My brother is one of the biggest hypocrites on the planet, and he's blind to his every fault. I love my brother much better at a distance when I can't catch him lecturing my mother in a completely disrespectful and condescending manner. I do fun things with my brother. We love each other. But if we weren't family I would have nothing to do with the little self-righteous, ignorant, condescending douchebag. But this is the same little douchebag who gave up his room with very little complaint when his big sister's life imploded. So. Family. What are you gonna do? In my case, move far, far away and smile as I think about how nice it will be to miss him.
I really do love him, and when we get along we get along really well. When we don't get along...Well, it's usually his fault. You can ask my mom if you don't believe me. Just tonight we watched Freedom Writers which was all feel good and I cried (yeah, I'm that girl, and yes, I cry during poignant scenes in action movies too thankyouverymuch). Through a series of conversational threads that I shall not recount because...I don't really feel like it. ANYWAYS. Through a series of conversational threads that I shall not recount, I mentioned to my mother that the roast beef was moldy and since I didn't know what she wanted done with it I put it back in the fridge. I'd meant to tell her when she got home, but forgot until that moment. Now...we keep the lunch meats in tupperware containers so that we can have smaller portions out at a time and freeze the rest. This is not a new phenomenon, we've been doing it for a long time. My brother starts going OFF on me about how I shouldn't have put it in the fridge because now everything in the fridge is going to mold. He starts lecturing me and criticizing me about putting a sealed container back in the fridge. Have I mentioned that my brother has been through all kinds of counseling and seen all sorts of child psychologist specialists? And that he refuses to take medication because there's nothing wrong with him? It's everyone else you see!
So he's being a critical asshole. I ignore him and start talking to my mother about an acquaintance who always wants my brother to come over to do chores for her. I find the woman incredibly annoying, but it's his business so whatever. This time one of things she needs is for him to dig a hole. SERIOUSLY?! She's more able bodied than I am, and I can damn well dig a hole. I admit it, I started mocking her. My brother says she just doesn't do well with practicalities. I say "No, she's just DUMB". He made some diplomatic statement and I laughed and said this was why I would never be a diplomat. My mom laughed with me, at which point my brother starts lecturing me about being less critical. I think my job dropped. My mom's face was a sight to see as well. I just said "Yeah, well, it begins at home buddy".
I freely admit, the snark is strong in this one. I am a very critical person, but I try to turn that into a positive by directing it towards myself most of the time to facilitate self-improvement. The rest of the time I snark to the friends who find it hilarious. No one gets hurt and I don't wallow in my critical nature. The thing is...Hypocrisy bugs me. My brother is one of the biggest hypocrites on the planet, and he's blind to his every fault. I love my brother much better at a distance when I can't catch him lecturing my mother in a completely disrespectful and condescending manner. I do fun things with my brother. We love each other. But if we weren't family I would have nothing to do with the little self-righteous, ignorant, condescending douchebag. But this is the same little douchebag who gave up his room with very little complaint when his big sister's life imploded. So. Family. What are you gonna do? In my case, move far, far away and smile as I think about how nice it will be to miss him.
Friday, June 22, 2012
Still here
Music and humour are two of my most successful coping mechanisms. Combine them and you've got GOLD. Also, a friend of mine just im'ed me to say "I wonder what Batman's carbon footprint is?" Can I just say that I love my friends?
I'm doing a little bit better. My older little brother has been working, so I'm being left in peace. It's funny, my mom doesn't think she understands my mental illness (and she can, in fact, really stick her foot in it at times) but she's honestly the best when it comes to knowing how to deal with me. Maybe it's because she's not a very snuggly person, so she respects my periodic need for solitude. She also runs interference and gets people to leave me alone. She wants me to get out and do more, but she respects the fact that I know better than she does what I am capable of. If only she didn't think I was going to hell *sigh*.
My dad thinks my mental illness is just demonic attack. Just. I have a really skewed worldview I think. Anyways, I'm not sure if I've mentioned it before, but he does. If I had faith and didn't allow the demons in through my actions (reading fantasy novels, going to ren faires, summoning satan by listening to heavy metal, y'know) I wouldn't have these problems! Never mind the fact that I have had them my entire life and that when I was in second grade he was trying to have conversations about self-mutilation and suicide with me. Oy. Oh, yes, they were (and are) valid concerns. The only reason I've never cut is because I can't stand the sight of my own blood. Never stopped me from hurting myself in other ways, but that's why I have so few scars today. Yes, I started around second grade. You know, before I had been exposed to anything other than the wholesome science fiction my dad watched with me. Like Red Dwarf. Is that a hint of sarcasm we detect? Nawwwww, couldn't be!
It's funny, the things about me my dad doesn't like are the things he instilled in me. The fact that I can respect authority without trusting it. The fact that I question everything. The fact that I try not to judge people (which in fact has led me to excuse people far longer than I should have). The fact that I have friends from every walk of life and love them all. You know, like the friggin' Bible says to? I don't merely accept authority without question, because my dad taught me that was bad. But I'm still supposed to accept HIS authority without question.
I don't really have a lot to say. Well, that's not true, I have a lot to say, but this is turning rambly so
Saturday, June 16, 2012
D'oh
So I've been having a pretty good time of it recently. Then today, abruptly, I started feeling really down and hopeless. I sunk into that for most of the morning before my brain said "Wait a minute...where the fuck did this come from?" Oh yeah, I've forgotten to take my anti-depressants for the last 3 days *facepalm* and, oh look!, I also kept forgetting to call in my refill so I only have 2 left! Gifted, ladies and gentlemen, that's me. Just plain...gifted.
It's really silly for me to feel down right now, particularly since I just got my grades for this last quarter. 4.0 across the board. Yesssss. So feeling down about my prospects and future was kind of a red flag. I mean, I'm doing what I set out to do, which is to excel so that I can get into the program I want. So why would I suddenly start feeling like "I'm never going to be able to do this. Even if I do get my degree I'm going to end up remaining a jobless loser."? Because my brain HATES me, that's why!
I know a few of the triggers behind it though. It's because now that I'm pursuing something (linguistics) just because it interests me and not because I have a solid plan (Library Science->college librarian) my brain is scrambling for a plan. I can definitely justify linguistics as a degree, there are a lot of career paths it can help me in as well as aiding me in my desire to become a polyglot. However, I don't have a solid plan for my future. In the past I've had plans that never came to fruition (and we will not go into why because I am focusing on me and my future, not how I got screwed over in the past), but I've always had *plans*. Now I'm kind of going a completely different route. I've got a few firm plans, and I'm making sure that they're solid with a backup, but I don't have everything all mapped out. This is really hard for my brain to handle. In an attempt to help my brain, I started trying to plan a *possible* future path....yeah, that backfired.
So I emailed a blogger I follow about teaching overseas. I tried to be very clear in my questions but, as usual, I was misunderstood. I still received some valuable input, but at the same time...It bothered me. The questions he understood me to have asked were dismissed because he felt they'd been answered elsewhere. I went back and reread my questions. It was pretty obvious what he thought I was saying and I felt like a fool for not communicating better. But he still gave me some valuable input, and he is a busy family man, so I didn't clarify. It killed me not to. I hate being misunderstood, I hate not communicating in a fashion that others can easily understand, and I hate that my teachers and friends identify me as a good communicator when I'm obviously not. I can usually clarify things so that I'm understood, but it's really hard for me to let it go. So I will keep clarifying, over and over, until I feel I am understood.
It's really hard to let that go. It's really hard not to email this guy and clarify my questions up the wazoo. My brain dwells on this saying "Now he's going to think I'm just lazy and didn't read other blogs to find these things out. Good grief, I sound like a friggin' moron, a friggin' LAZY moron." This is just stupid. Because he was really nice and relatively helpful. He doesn't know me from Adam and he still took time out of his very busy life to respond and I'm being all butthurt that he misunderstood me. It happens all the time, and I just can't get used to it. Every time it happens I flagellate myself for being a moron and start resenting the person who misunderstood me even though that makes NO sense. It's NOT a new sensation, it's normal. I know this. So why do I let myself get sucked in? Because my brain fucking HATES me, that's why.
Bah. I think I need some alcohol. No...that's not right, it's not alcohol I need, but time with my friends letting loose. Unfortunately crazysauce ensures that I'm not going to be able to for a little while.
Man, if my crazy were a person I would beat the shit out of them.
It's really silly for me to feel down right now, particularly since I just got my grades for this last quarter. 4.0 across the board. Yesssss. So feeling down about my prospects and future was kind of a red flag. I mean, I'm doing what I set out to do, which is to excel so that I can get into the program I want. So why would I suddenly start feeling like "I'm never going to be able to do this. Even if I do get my degree I'm going to end up remaining a jobless loser."? Because my brain HATES me, that's why!
I know a few of the triggers behind it though. It's because now that I'm pursuing something (linguistics) just because it interests me and not because I have a solid plan (Library Science->college librarian) my brain is scrambling for a plan. I can definitely justify linguistics as a degree, there are a lot of career paths it can help me in as well as aiding me in my desire to become a polyglot. However, I don't have a solid plan for my future. In the past I've had plans that never came to fruition (and we will not go into why because I am focusing on me and my future, not how I got screwed over in the past), but I've always had *plans*. Now I'm kind of going a completely different route. I've got a few firm plans, and I'm making sure that they're solid with a backup, but I don't have everything all mapped out. This is really hard for my brain to handle. In an attempt to help my brain, I started trying to plan a *possible* future path....yeah, that backfired.
So I emailed a blogger I follow about teaching overseas. I tried to be very clear in my questions but, as usual, I was misunderstood. I still received some valuable input, but at the same time...It bothered me. The questions he understood me to have asked were dismissed because he felt they'd been answered elsewhere. I went back and reread my questions. It was pretty obvious what he thought I was saying and I felt like a fool for not communicating better. But he still gave me some valuable input, and he is a busy family man, so I didn't clarify. It killed me not to. I hate being misunderstood, I hate not communicating in a fashion that others can easily understand, and I hate that my teachers and friends identify me as a good communicator when I'm obviously not. I can usually clarify things so that I'm understood, but it's really hard for me to let it go. So I will keep clarifying, over and over, until I feel I am understood.
It's really hard to let that go. It's really hard not to email this guy and clarify my questions up the wazoo. My brain dwells on this saying "Now he's going to think I'm just lazy and didn't read other blogs to find these things out. Good grief, I sound like a friggin' moron, a friggin' LAZY moron." This is just stupid. Because he was really nice and relatively helpful. He doesn't know me from Adam and he still took time out of his very busy life to respond and I'm being all butthurt that he misunderstood me. It happens all the time, and I just can't get used to it. Every time it happens I flagellate myself for being a moron and start resenting the person who misunderstood me even though that makes NO sense. It's NOT a new sensation, it's normal. I know this. So why do I let myself get sucked in? Because my brain fucking HATES me, that's why.
Bah. I think I need some alcohol. No...that's not right, it's not alcohol I need, but time with my friends letting loose. Unfortunately crazysauce ensures that I'm not going to be able to for a little while.
Man, if my crazy were a person I would beat the shit out of them.
Friday, June 8, 2012
Oh, people...
I get kind of annoyed with people sometimes...Well, okay, people aggravate me on a regular basis but I am currently annoyed by something in particular. I am annoyed when I accidentally annoy other people. Prime example just happened (though the person in question wasn't mean like some people are, it just reminded me of my general annoyance with stuff like this) of someone saying goodnight and that they're going offline. So half an hour or so later I decide to be funny and send them a series of links for when they wake up (only three, just for the record). In the morning. Since they told me at least a half an hour before that they were going to bed. The delay made me think it was safe to send messages without keeping them up. Apparently not. In this instance the person was very nice and simply asked me to stop since they were trying to go to sleep. But...
People aren't always nice. In fact, they often get snippy or persnickety. Now, I understand that I can go overboard with things, but...If you've told me something, and I'm acting under the impression that what you've told me is true, then why are you getting pissy? I mean, if you say "Oh, this doesn't bother me", then I'm going to assume you're telling the truth and act upon that assumption. Then you get pissy with me because apparently somehow, even though you've said something doesn't bother you, I'm supposed to just know that it does bother you.
Yes, this has very little to do with the incident that triggered the annoyance. That's because the person, while being less than accurate in their claim to be going to bed, was very clear and polite about what they wanted from me. Namely for me to stop sending links because it was keeping them up. I can deal with that, and feel apologetic. I prefer people to just fucking say something. I'm not psychic and I don't (apparently) think or react like so-called "normal" people. TELL me if I'm annoying you. If I'm getting too loud, tell me so I can quiet down. If my behaviour is not appropriate for the situation then fucking TELL me. Do you think I appreciate it when you don't? It just means I will continue to make the mistake and make people uncomfortable, not to mention embarrass myself.
So, mythical audience, that's my advice for you tonight. If someone you know is annoying you , tell them that that they are and why. Now, obviously, there are exceptions to this. If it's someone who won't change their behaviour and will try to guilt-trip you for even saying something...Get a new friend because that person fucking sucks. Obviously that won't work for family, so I'll pass on my tried and true method...actually that'd probably be a bad idea. Instead, I'll pass my mom's method on to you. Smile and ignore every word that comes out of their mouth because it's of no value.
Yes, you too can learn to be a passive-aggressive Queen in five easy steps!
People aren't always nice. In fact, they often get snippy or persnickety. Now, I understand that I can go overboard with things, but...If you've told me something, and I'm acting under the impression that what you've told me is true, then why are you getting pissy? I mean, if you say "Oh, this doesn't bother me", then I'm going to assume you're telling the truth and act upon that assumption. Then you get pissy with me because apparently somehow, even though you've said something doesn't bother you, I'm supposed to just know that it does bother you.
Yes, this has very little to do with the incident that triggered the annoyance. That's because the person, while being less than accurate in their claim to be going to bed, was very clear and polite about what they wanted from me. Namely for me to stop sending links because it was keeping them up. I can deal with that, and feel apologetic. I prefer people to just fucking say something. I'm not psychic and I don't (apparently) think or react like so-called "normal" people. TELL me if I'm annoying you. If I'm getting too loud, tell me so I can quiet down. If my behaviour is not appropriate for the situation then fucking TELL me. Do you think I appreciate it when you don't? It just means I will continue to make the mistake and make people uncomfortable, not to mention embarrass myself.
So, mythical audience, that's my advice for you tonight. If someone you know is annoying you , tell them that that they are and why. Now, obviously, there are exceptions to this. If it's someone who won't change their behaviour and will try to guilt-trip you for even saying something...Get a new friend because that person fucking sucks. Obviously that won't work for family, so I'll pass on my tried and true method...actually that'd probably be a bad idea. Instead, I'll pass my mom's method on to you. Smile and ignore every word that comes out of their mouth because it's of no value.
Yes, you too can learn to be a passive-aggressive Queen in five easy steps!
Saturday, May 5, 2012
Searching questions
I love my father, but I sometimes don't particularly like him. He has this nasty little habit of assigning the worst of motivations to my words and actions. Is it even worth it to keep the respect of someone who is so disrespectful of me? Why am I staying closeted for someone who seems to think I'm a horrible human being? Seriously.
When I was a kid I walked places, but we lived not too far from the freeway, so ,out of concern, my mom got me some pepper spray. It ended up in my bags somehow when I went to visit my dad. My little brother got into my bag and sprayed himself in the face. I was a gibbering wreck. I was convinced I had blinded my little brother for life, and ended up sobbing in a corner while my parents ran around frantically. My dad found me and angrily asked me to do something. I managed to sob out that it was in my bag, trying to say it was my fault. He interrupted me to tell me to stop being so selfish, this was not the time to get upset about my brother getting into my things. Because I'm a horrible person, right? My brother (who couldn't have been more than 3 at the time) had just sprayed himself in the eyes with a noxious substance and the only reason that I, his big sister, could possibly have been crying was because I'm a bitch and he got into my stuff.
Nothing has changed since then. I ask my father a question about anything "alternative" and he lashes out at me. I try to ask him about how the Word might view intersexuality, and he lashes out at me. There's no way I'm TRANsexual (not the question I asked), because I was a girly girl growing up! For anything I asked, he assumed the worst. I never asked him about anything that concerned me personally (like homosexuality) because I already knew his opinion. I would straight up tell him why I was asking the question "I just met a transgender person, what does the Bible say about it?" "I was watching tv when I saw something about intersexuality. Would the Biblical perspective be different for that?" and so on. Always, always, he would lash out at me for thinking I might be...what I had no thought of being.
My dad's really tall, and he recently built himself a fancy chair. It's ergonomic or something, and kind of funny looking. He said it was strong enough to withstand earthquakes, so I asked if it would survive the ceiling falling on it. Har Har Hardy har har. He said he'd hide under it if there was an earthquake. I immediately asked if it was big enough. Because he's over SIX FEET TALL, and it is both a valid and funny question. Apparently he's all butthurt, because the only conceivable thing I could have been referring to is his weight. SIGH. At this point my BMI is probably higher than his, I have no room to point fingers. The only time I've made comments about his weight is when I've asked him if he LOST any. The only things I tease him about are his baldness and his nose (which I inherited!). I used to tease him about his lips, until I figured out that it legitimately bothered him. So I STOPPED. Because I don't want to hurt my dad.
It seems such a silly thing for me to get all fed up with and upset over, but you know...I'm just really tired of being treated like a bad person, with no valid reasons behind it. Oh, wait, when I was six I said something mean and made my stepmom cry. I don't even remember what it was, or the incident itself. I've just been told about it. Because a six year old having to deal with the fact that her world has shattered and remade itself into foreign images would only say something mean because she's a horrible person. Good fucking grief. I'm so close to outing myself so we can just get it over with and he can be satisfied in knowing that (in his oh-so-humble opinion) I'm headed straight to Hell. I won't do it, because it's stupid to do it over something so tiny...no, I'll wait for something big to blow a gasket over. ;) Also because I don't know how much of what I'm feeling is legit, and how much of it is crazysauce trying to fuck me over.
When I was a kid I walked places, but we lived not too far from the freeway, so ,out of concern, my mom got me some pepper spray. It ended up in my bags somehow when I went to visit my dad. My little brother got into my bag and sprayed himself in the face. I was a gibbering wreck. I was convinced I had blinded my little brother for life, and ended up sobbing in a corner while my parents ran around frantically. My dad found me and angrily asked me to do something. I managed to sob out that it was in my bag, trying to say it was my fault. He interrupted me to tell me to stop being so selfish, this was not the time to get upset about my brother getting into my things. Because I'm a horrible person, right? My brother (who couldn't have been more than 3 at the time) had just sprayed himself in the eyes with a noxious substance and the only reason that I, his big sister, could possibly have been crying was because I'm a bitch and he got into my stuff.
Nothing has changed since then. I ask my father a question about anything "alternative" and he lashes out at me. I try to ask him about how the Word might view intersexuality, and he lashes out at me. There's no way I'm TRANsexual (not the question I asked), because I was a girly girl growing up! For anything I asked, he assumed the worst. I never asked him about anything that concerned me personally (like homosexuality) because I already knew his opinion. I would straight up tell him why I was asking the question "I just met a transgender person, what does the Bible say about it?" "I was watching tv when I saw something about intersexuality. Would the Biblical perspective be different for that?" and so on. Always, always, he would lash out at me for thinking I might be...what I had no thought of being.
My dad's really tall, and he recently built himself a fancy chair. It's ergonomic or something, and kind of funny looking. He said it was strong enough to withstand earthquakes, so I asked if it would survive the ceiling falling on it. Har Har Hardy har har. He said he'd hide under it if there was an earthquake. I immediately asked if it was big enough. Because he's over SIX FEET TALL, and it is both a valid and funny question. Apparently he's all butthurt, because the only conceivable thing I could have been referring to is his weight. SIGH. At this point my BMI is probably higher than his, I have no room to point fingers. The only time I've made comments about his weight is when I've asked him if he LOST any. The only things I tease him about are his baldness and his nose (which I inherited!). I used to tease him about his lips, until I figured out that it legitimately bothered him. So I STOPPED. Because I don't want to hurt my dad.
It seems such a silly thing for me to get all fed up with and upset over, but you know...I'm just really tired of being treated like a bad person, with no valid reasons behind it. Oh, wait, when I was six I said something mean and made my stepmom cry. I don't even remember what it was, or the incident itself. I've just been told about it. Because a six year old having to deal with the fact that her world has shattered and remade itself into foreign images would only say something mean because she's a horrible person. Good fucking grief. I'm so close to outing myself so we can just get it over with and he can be satisfied in knowing that (in his oh-so-humble opinion) I'm headed straight to Hell. I won't do it, because it's stupid to do it over something so tiny...no, I'll wait for something big to blow a gasket over. ;) Also because I don't know how much of what I'm feeling is legit, and how much of it is crazysauce trying to fuck me over.
Wednesday, March 14, 2012
Envy
I am having a huge bout of envy right now. A friend is at a concert that I really wish I could go to. It's not just the money issue, I also know I would be hyperventilating, shaking and/or vomiting if I attempted to go to any concert, the fact that it's punk rock just means it would be more boisterous. I want so many things for myself, and that seems like such a small thing to want, but in all honesty to achieve it...well, that would be one of my biggest hurdles. It's such a small thing, to be able to go to the concert of a band I like, it's miniscule compared to some of my other wishes. But...it requires so much more of me than attaining an education that will allow me to be employed. With the proper education I could still get a job, even if I don't get any better than I am. Because with the right qualifications I could find a job with minimal contact. This is not something that I want to happen, but it does mean that if I did get on disability (something I am still ambivalent on it) and didn't manage to fix myself, it wouldn't mean that I have to stay on disability for the rest of my life. But a concert? A concert would require me to be able to go to a place where I am completely surrounded by PEOPLE and for me to stay that way for hours... Such a small thing, but...I've been getting palpitations just going to the Y with my mother. If something small like that causes such an effect...*sigh* So yeah. Envy up the wazoo tonight.
/angst
/angst
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