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I’m so excited, we ordered the fanciest, most beautiful guppies and adorable dwarf shrimp, and I can’t wait to see them in my tank! It’s already prepared and ready for them, I just have to wait for their arrival. *chews fingernails*

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BPD? I don’t know anymore...

I was diagnosed with BPD. At the time I came to think it was accurate, because I was feeling very high-stress and could only really see my behavior through the eyes of someone with blinders on, not really considering all the aspects of my life. However, I’m beginning to think that may not be accurate after all.

Most times, unless I am extremely overwhelmed or in the moment feeling flustered because I’m talking about something I’m passionate about and don’t feel I can word things properly, I am able to take life’s highs and lows without much worry. I’m often the voice of optimism amongst the people I talk to.

When talking about hot-button topics, I feel overwhelmed because there’s so much I want to say and can’t order my thoughts properly. I avoid and can’t start tasks easily. I REQUIRE my routine and the things that bring me comfort. I have difficulties with sensory input (very picky about food, temperature, textures, sounds, lights, etc) and have audio processing issues when in a room with multiple noises going on at once. I am very resistant to change. I love being alone and having time to myself. I need my privacy and time to myself. Yes, I have a pattern of failed relationships in my past, but these weren’t due to feeling like I was going to be abandoned and cutting the cord to avoid it. I wanted to move away from relationships I felt were no longer right for me, because I knew I was the only one who could make my future better, and I knew I was worth having a life worth living. I was ALWAYS the one that left my previous relationships, with only a couple of exceptions (one of which I refused to get back together with after he wanted me back the next day, and he went nuts crying on my couch). I have always felt I was a decent person. I have bad self-esteem sometimes, but underneath it all I don’t feel like a complete waste, even if I do voice it sometimes. I ...think I more echo the voices of people from my past, when I do that.

I know for certain that I find it very difficult to meet others’ eyes. It feels way too intimate, though I do try to force myself to do so because it makes most others more comfortable. I tend to look at objects or distractions far more than other people present. I’ve had an obsession with animals for as long as I could remember. I saw myself as an animal, and acting out animal instincts, more than pretending I was one. I learned to copy others so I wouldn’t be made fun of, because I was sensitive to yelling and criticism when I knew they could lead to punishment (such as someone being mad at me for a long period and not acting like themselves anymore, which is another reason I’m so upset when people remind me of my dad by drinking alcohol).

I have actually always had a very strong sense of This Is Who I Am, This Applies to Me. While I have often followed in others’ footsteps, it was only because there were realizations involved that felt right, and often still feel right, after learning about new concepts for the first time. I realized I was bisexual when a bisexual friend explained their feelings to me and I realized I had felt all those ways before I’d met them. I realized I was nonbinary after I read a lot of personal accounts and realized it explained so much about who I was and how I felt about gender. I do not follow just to fit in, and never have. I’ve always preferred to follow my heart even when others got hurt in the process, which was both a blessing and a curse for discovering so much about myself.

Those are things that aren’t explained by BPD.

I do relate to some traits though, always, even in my best moments. These are: A fragmented memory with no ability to order the memories I have chronologically, having an almost uncanny ability to read expressions, sometimes worrying they’re negative when they aren’t (but rarely thinking it’s about me, just worrying someone is sad and wondering what I can do to help, sometimes feeling an obligation to fix their mood). I pick my skin, sometimes to relieve stress, like stimming, but rarely because I want to hurt myself.

I dunno man. It just dun’ sound right to me. Not enough is adding up. I have a headweasel, but I don’t really know its name after all >.<

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A different sort of post this time! I really, really could use some advice, and if any kind people out there would mind giving me their thoughts, I’d appreciate it!

[TL;DR: I have some fish tanks with projects coming to an end and am undecided about what to do afterwards. Get rid of tanks and try something new, or find a new project or pet?]

My current situation is this: 

75 gallon aquarium with 25ish electric blue acaras from a previous breeding, all of whom will be sold to the local pet store when they run out of the last batch we sold to them.

20 gallon aquarium with a single old betta boy (he’s actually in a floating hatchery as he got overstressed and lost most of his swim bladder abilities at one point many moons ago, but he’s still quite active and seems very happy to sit on his marimo ball friends and wiggle for food), who will probably pass away in the next year.

5 gallon aquarium housing 4 electric blue acaras, the “runts” of the litter and who are all still quite tiny. I’ll be selling this tank when the acaras have found new homes.

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I’m trying to make a plan for after my betta dies and after all our fish are sold. 

My options, as I see them:

1) Find another breeding project, in which case I’ll talk to the local pet store owner and see what he needs/recommends for breeding. It’s fun to breed fish and it’s nice to bring in a little money here and there, but it’s also extremely stressful and a lot of work.

2) Put together a community tank with different species that can live safely together. A bit less exciting than breeding, no income, but it will be enjoyable to watch as aquariums always are!

3) Sort of a combination of the two above, pick a small fish species and a shrimp species that can cohabitate and may or may not breed. Occasionally we’ll have some extras to sell if things go well, shrimp and tiny fish are SO fun to watch, but with smaller, more fragile species comes more death which I don’t handle well at all. However, having a fish and a shrimp species together, perhaps they’ll eat each other’s dead so I don’t have the worst parts of the remains to clean up? Not sure. :/ 

4) Put an axolotl in the 20 gallon. They seem fairly easy to keep, and I can easily keep water bottles in the freezer to make sure the temp stays right. Since I’m home all the time I can monitor it fairly easily.

5) Get rid of the tanks entirely. I could probably bring in a good 600ish by selling everything on Kijiji, and then I could potentially put that money towards either a new hobby, or another pet, or just save it and enjoy not having to do water changes. 

I have no idea what pet I would get if I decided to go that route. A lot of them have kind of tough upkeep that I wouldn’t be able to do easily due to my health situation, and I currently have two cats and 10 arachnids to care for. Still, subtracting water changes and other aquarium upkeep would definitely give me more energy to put towards caring for a new critter.

Pets are difficult and so are decisions. XD Any suggestions would be helpful!

PS: I’m in Canada, so sadly most insects are illegal to keep here :C weh

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Thank you so much to everyone who has replied to this post either here or in other messages! My energy level has been pretty low so I’m hoping for a good surge soon so I can reply to everyone properly who took the time to leave me such kind words of support.

I’ve felt alone with these problems for so long and it’s been utterly exhausting. The validation alone... gosh. ;.; I’m so blown away. ♥  Thank you again from the bottom of my heart.

And suddenly the rest of my text posts make sense.

I found out a couple days ago that I have Borderline Personality Disorder. I didn’t want to believe it at first. I was crying and upset at the psychiatrist, convinced that he was assuming too much about me and not asking me the right questions. 

I had thought (hoped) I was autistic. Autistic people aren’t “crazy,” they’re gifted and brilliant and think in ways allistic people don’t. I wanted for that to be me. Every person on the spectrum that I know is such an amazing person, and I wanted to have that label in common with them, I guess. 

I’m not on the spectrum, though I have a lot of personality traits in common with people who are. I accept that now.

The most important thing is that my monster has a name. Now I can hopefully learn how to fight it. 

It just kind of sucks that almost every document I read about BPD is, well… I dunno, maybe I’m just super sensitive (Hi, BPD, I see you) but everything reads very negatively towards people with this disorder. I can see I’m going to have to do some digging to find the content that will help me, while I wait for my first therapy appointment.

I want to thank everyone who writes about their BPD experiences here on Tumblr. It really helped drive home the points that This Is Who I Am, I’m not a terrible person for having this disorder, and I’m not alone. Sending each of you a big hug, if it’s welcome. ♥ You’re the best!

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And suddenly the rest of my text posts make sense.

I found out a couple days ago that I have Borderline Personality Disorder. I didn’t want to believe it at first. I was crying and upset at the psychiatrist, convinced that he was assuming too much about me and not asking me the right questions. 

I had thought (hoped) I was autistic. Autistic people aren’t “crazy,” they’re gifted and brilliant and think in ways allistic people don’t. I wanted for that to be me. Every person on the spectrum that I know is such an amazing person, and I wanted to have that label in common with them, I guess. 

I’m not on the spectrum, though I have a lot of personality traits in common with people who are. I accept that now.

The most important thing is that my monster has a name. Now I can hopefully learn how to fight it. 

It just kind of sucks that almost every document I read about BPD is, well... I dunno, maybe I’m just super sensitive (Hi, BPD, I see you) but everything reads very negatively towards people with this disorder. I can see I’m going to have to do some digging to find the content that will help me, while I wait for my first therapy appointment.

I want to thank everyone who writes about their BPD experiences here on Tumblr. It really helped drive home the points that This Is Who I Am, I’m not a terrible person for having this disorder, and I’m not alone. Sending each of you a big hug, if it’s welcome. ♥ You’re the best!

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This is probably going to sound like something written by someone less than half my age, but my emotions are all over the place and if I can’t write them out somewhere, I think I’ll go crazy.

The One That Got Away was completely wrong for me, as wrong as I was for them. And yet here I am, a few lonely songs away from crying my eyes out because I still miss them too much.

The way they kissed me... the way they held me... the way they talked and laughed, and how much they made me smile... 

You were an experience I can never have again. A hole in my heart I can never fill. The one person with whom I could be present with my other partner and honestly not feel weird about it. 

Saturdays are the hardest. We’d all hang out, have a yummy breakfast, play some games and watch some videos. It felt so right. I thought... maybe it could last forever. I was terribly wrong.

So much went wrong all at once. Too many misunderstandings, too many difficult, emotional nights that neither of us could handle for many reasons. Too much worry, too much stress. 

You were The One That Got Away. You were completely wrong for me.

And I would be back with you in a second if I could.

https://youtu.be/zgEaJw1wEB0

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People: Get a hobby!! :D

Me: *Has tried drawing, painting, sewing, knitting, creating websites, breeding fish, breeding snails, cross stitch, playing so many video games, clay sculpting, among many other things, all of which are just not satisfying or fun or didn’t work out for other reasons, or are too expensive to try again* Guess I’ll read one of my books I’ve had for decades. 14th time’s a charm.

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I’m not sure why I can’t force this meatsuit into a diurnal sleep schedule. I’ve tried so many things, but even if I sleep a full night in bed, I’m exhausted during the day and eventually have to nap. And if I don’t sleep forever (for instance, I use an alarm to try to wake up only a short time later) I’m still exhausted. aaaaaaagh

The only time I seem to feel rested is when I sleep a full day and wake up for the evening. But then I have to be awake alone all night and it’s dark and feels so extra lonely that it’s easy for my depression rear its ugly head. hrghr

I slept all night! It was good sleep! I rested! And I want to go right back to bed. XD Body staaaahp

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Tonight’s thoughts

I keep thinking about the fact that after I told my parents “In order to be comfortable being in contact with someone, I need them to use my chosen name, correct pronouns, and to not support Donald Trump because of everything he stands for” and their response was “We were looking forward to an email, not a ransom note. Our love comes with no conditions, it’s not love if yours does.”

I guess I don’t know how to love properly then if I choose only to love people that show me and people I care about the absolute minimum amount of basic fucking respect.

I hate them for making me take this step. I have never felt so alone in my entire life, but I refuse to talk to them unless they learn to treat me like a person. Why is that too much to ask? 

In about two months it will have been about a year since I talked to them. A year since I have had any family contact whatsoever.

Just me and my partner and my inability to leave the apartment or do much of anything.

I’m so depressed.

Why couldn’t I have been born into a family that knows what real love is?

...anyone want to adopt a piece of shit 35-year-old child? :P

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Hoarding Problems

I’m one of those people who actually likes certain kinds of reality shows, mostly because the psychology involved is so interesting. For example, I’ve been watching some of those shows about people who hoard items, to the point that their houses are nearly inaccessible due to boxes of junk or garbage laying around.

As I was watching these shows, I started seeing myself in some of those people. At first, I couldn’t figure out why. I don’t hoard items. For many years my homes were... temporary, shall we say. My life moved with me more than 10 times, a couple of times across the US and once across the Canadian border. I ended up having to leave a lot of my material possessions behind due to the fact that I had to pay to ship boxes of stuff to myself to get my things after I flew to my new home, so I only packed the stuff I thought I couldn’t live without. 

Why, then, were those poor souls affected by hoarding obsessions so familiar to me? 

I realized, finally, that I am, in fact, a hoarder. I don’t hoard objects, though. I hoard my worries, unhappy memories and anxieties like precious treasures, holding them within me and letting them pile up and become overwhelming. Nobody can see what I’m hoarding. Even I mostly can’t see all of it, with the time I spend distracting myself so I can’t think about those hurts. My hoard spills out in bits and pieces when a kind friend asks me how I’m doing, and it takes effort to shut the door so they don’t see too much of all the pain I’m hiding behind that door. I can’t ever spill too much, or else I can’t stop it, and it’s too much for anyone to hear. It’s too much for me to think about, most of the time.

When I stop and think about each single issue, and realize how many lead into other problems and other worries, I begin to shut down. I block it all out, shoving those thoughts into more boxes that go on top of the already-too-high pile. My dad calling me fat and lazy. The day I was told I wasn’t good enough to be in show choir. My teeth are horrible; I need to see a dentist and I’m terrified. The everyday fears that come with my emetophobia and being unable to enjoy most media because always, ALWAYS there is someone in whatever show, movie or game I’m trying to distract myself with that does something to trigger my phobia.

And it goes on.

And on.

Until I break down into a sobbing mess, and all I can think is “Why? Why am I alive if it’s only to continue causing suffering for myself and others? Why can’t I just die...”

Eventually my mind quiets. I fall asleep. I wake up. And before those thoughts can drag me deep again, I dive into distraction, ignoring it all yet again, and at the same time completely isolating myself. More people near means more people to hurt on accident. It’s easier to be alone than to willingly walk into a situation that I know will fill more mental boxes with pain that I have to find a way to set precariously upon the rest.

I know life doesn’t have to be this way. I know a lot of my suffering is self-inflicted. And oddly enough, I know, now, after watching those hoarding shows, what I have to do to finally dig myself out.

In a house full of unneeded clutter, the best way to start is to make yourself a path through the mess, do a bit of mental prioritizing for where to start, then begin. Whittle down the pile little by little, piece by piece. It doesn’t matter how much progress is made in what amount of time, as long as you continue working and taking care of each item you come across. Just making an effort is the biggest hurdle, but time passes as you work, until eventually you can look back and see how much progress you’ve made.

But even before all that, you have to open your eyes and realize how much you’re drowning in your own clutter. And I think that’s what I’ve never been able to do. I’ve spent so long closing myself off to those thoughts and worries, ignoring them, letting them pile around me, that it has become a normal part of my day to repeatedly feel pangs of hurt or guilt and push them away before they can start to affect me more than that.

I can’t keep shutting my eyes and ignoring it all. I have to finally look at the clutter as a whole, prioritize, and start making an effort to solve each problem as the opportunity arises. I’m scared of how much emotional energy this could take, and what I may discover when I start picking everything apart. But I know it will be worth it when I can look back and see how much progress I’ve made. 

We all have to start somewhere, and I guess that messy corner over there looks as good as any. ♥

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The tarot card I drew for the day yesterday (after everything happened) was the Sun. I almost cried; it felt so good and validating. I don’t know who or what that message was from, but I needed it.

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I cut off contact with my parents today.

I had asked my mother to stop contacting me. She asked why. I sent her a list of links about emotional and verbal abuse from parents, and she sent this via email and text message:

Your emails are shared with NO ONE. Please speak to me only. The articles you linked do not apply to M[rest of name redacted]. If you disagree, please highlight passages and support them with specific instances/occasions. I will only accept replies from "the human who came from my body". No relays.

Below is my reply to them. After I sent it, I blocked all their methods of communication. I’m done. M is my mother, R is my father. I’ve been using their real names instead of Mom and Dad because they only will use my deadname (or other condescending words to describe me when I ask them to call me by my legal name). TF is me.

M,

By sending the message you did, the way you did, you have given me an example already, but believe me when I say that I have plenty of examples from memories that haunt me. No need to keep this email secret. The time for secrets is over, for both of us.

Please show R this entire email, because he deserves the truth. Small details may be wrong; you may of course provide your side of the story to him as you see fit. I have a bad memory, but not so bad as to change entire events, and I have no reason to lie. I, TF, do solemnly and with all sincerity swear that the following is the truth, according to my memory and email correspondence between myself and M.

There have been many times, from long past to recently, that you’ve violated my boundaries and shown a lack of respect for me as an autonomous adult. In this instance, I politely asked you to not text or email me directly again, but I didn’t cut you off completely. I gave you a way to contact me -- my husband’s email address. This was for my mental and emotional health. I, as one adult to another, asked you to do something small and easy that would help me, and if you’d just done as I asked, we would have built some trust.

Instead of doing that, you made the choice to text and email me (both) and throw my request in my face, which tells me loud and clear that the boundaries I set for my own health and well-being are meaningless to you, and that you feel that my lines are yours to cross whenever you please. If you really, truly loved me unconditionally, you wouldn’t even think of doing that.

You called me weak. What kind of mother calls their child that? That was as punishment for the crime of opening up to you about how I’ve been feeling for years, finally having the strength to face it, heal slowly, and say “I’m ready to move on, I just need time and for you to help me.” All you had to do, both of you, was acknowledge, apologize, and try to do better, like I’m trying to. But that was too much to expect from you.

Oh and, by the way? The entire time I lived with you, you and R were always quick to stifle my negative feelings and make me not ”talk back,” so I learned to cover up my real feelings with humor and fake smiles. If you feel like all of this is hitting you out of the blue, that’s why. I was an empathic, sensitive child that wanted to love and help every creature or person I could find, and yet all the “parenting methods” you used on me were overly harsh, kept me relying on you when I should have been becoming independent, and hurt me instead of helping me grow into a strong, capable adult.

Think back to every time you snooped through my things, found something you didn’t like, got furious and punished me for it. That is emotional abuse. Telling a female child who is barely overweight that they need to lose weight, and putting them on a diet, is emotional abuse (I doubt you would have done that if I was a boy, and you were probably projecting onto me your insecurity about your own weight). You also shamed me for pimples and hair under my chin, or anything else that wasn’t “feminine,” giggling as you pointed it out, just like the bullies in school, which gave me self esteem issues for a long time. You couldn’t just let me be me. Or, when you did, you gave me condescending facial expressions or even said things like “suit yourself” and made me feel like less of a person for not dressing or acting like you.

You and R and everyone else in the family touched me in ways I didn’t like, tickling me, poking me, kissing me on the lips long past the age that I was old enough for it to be weird. I didn’t enjoy these things at all and they only made me not want to be near people that could potentially violate my boundaries at any moment they wished without my consent, but if I ever showed displeasure, you mocked me and used your words to hurt me instead. That even happened when I visited you with my husband!

Anything you disagree with about me that you can’t control, you hate. You cornered me in your computer room and literally yelled at me because I’m agnostic. When I told you I wished I was a fox (a more loving person might have seen it as a way of me crying out for help and feeling overwhelmed by life, and in need of comfort), you were hurtful and harsh and out to embarrass me, you were not kind, gentle or supportive in any way. You haven’t even acknowledged that I came out to you as non-binary, not that I ever expected more of you, because that’s the kind of person you are. If you don’t understand it or are bigoted towards it, it’s unacceptable, weird and stupid, and you make sure people know how you feel, but usually only with body language and being generally icy, so you didn't have to feel bad for being bigoted, since you didn't actually say anything mean.

When I worked for Superpetz as an adult, you looked through my computer without warning or permission, called me at work, commanded me to come home directly after my shift and wouldn’t tell me why you were so mad at me (which gave me an anxiety attack; I had to take a break for an hour so I could continue working), then you shamed me horribly because of what you found. Yes, it was weird porn. But how could breaking my trust, angrily yelling, embarrassing me, and making me feel like a horrible person do anything besides push us further apart?

You violated my privacy repeatedly and were always in my face wanting to know every secret, what I was doing, what I was thinking about, and you searched through my things whenever you felt like it. You would often get upset by my answers or what you found, so I never felt safe or like you trusted me even before I started lying to you. If I was scared to bring up something to you and hid it or tried to, you gave me every reason to believe my fear was justified when you found out, because you use angry looks, condescending verbal language, and cold body language to shame your victim, and just for little ol' me, actual punishment (keeping me from seeing my friends or stopping me from doing things that were stress relief for me) because you're my parent.

You do it to R too, but he was your equal. You were my goddess, essentially -- you gave me life, food, a place to sleep, told me how to live my life, and I had to do anything you told me to do. I couldn’t choose to just ignore your opinion and get on with my day, unlike what you told me to do when R was upset, especially if he was drunk.

I didn’t have many friends I felt close to while I was growing up, so since I was home a lot, you were happy to smother me with attention and love in a positive way as long as I did anything and everything you wanted, perfectly, and without any complaint. As soon as I wiggled an inch the wrong way, the air conditioner would come on until I was a perfect angel again.

You stole and probably threw away a dress with dragons printed on it that my online boyfriend had sent me. You rarely praised my art with anything more than a “cute.” But when I was cross stitching, or trying on dresses your mother had sewn for me, or you were doing my hair, I was praised constantly. You had to pick out my clothes. If I didn’t like the style, because it was too feminine, you rolled your eyes and grabbed it anyway “just to try on.” Doing things you wanted me to do, your way, was the only way I could keep from getting those condescending looks and sighs of exasperation.

One time when I was 7 or 8 maybe, I was excited because I was watching you play Zelda on the NES. You got a lot of rupees and I said “You’re rich!! Rich nitch sitch witch bitch…” and you very angrily, told me to not ever say that word again, that it was a bad word. Why was anger your first reaction for everything, no matter how minor? That affected me a lot, enough to scare me. You were my world, remember? That I could do something on accident to make you so angry meant I had to always be careful of what I said and walk on eggshells around you.

Then there was the Livejournal incident. You created a furry-related screen name that I would think was a friend, then when I added you to my friends list and you were able to see my journal entries where I vented to friends about my life, you used the information you found, yet again, to shame me into feeling like I was doing a bad thing, when really, for gosh sakes, I just wanted to get the hell away from you and live my life without feeling like someone was constantly judging me for everything I ever did or said. But you had your claws hooked in and you still weren’t ready to let go, so you ripped and pulled, leaving as much damage as you could if you couldn’t directly control me again. You said horrible things to me, about me as a person, and had no desire to be encouraging or supportive. R said that if I was happy and safe, that’s all that mattered, though he thought of me as “slutting around” of course, but that’s another story. (Mrs. Neutral declined to defend me after R said that hateful thing and she found out what happened, of course, but that’s yet another story.)

You told me in many different ways me time and again that unless I was productive (or making a future for myself that you chose, i.e. college), I was worthless, starting from when I was very young. When I got my first B, you gave me the hardest time about it! It was devastating to my self esteem and my confidence in coming to you with things I was proud of, or report cards at all. I was so proud, and like “hey look at this, my grades are great, better than almost everyone in my class” and you were obsessed by that B. I had to be perfect, or I wasn’t good enough.

And in high school I was terrified to bring up my grades or school as a topic of conversation when I wasn’t doing well, because I was scared of how you’d react when you found out. Your anger over my grades, and my feeling I needed to hide it because being in the presence of said anger was so anxiety-inducing, made my life hell and gave me classic signs of Generalized Anxiety Disorder and Major Depressive Disorder long before I left at 19. I was constantly trying to avoid being home, which didn’t help my grades. I wonder why I wanted to be away from home so badly? But no...to you, I was just lazy, not working hard enough, not doing enough, not being YOU enough for you.

You apparently think I was some great achiever in high school, but I remember almost every class being a struggle unless I was very into the subject, and at some point being so scared and feeling so worthless and unlovable that I wanted to kill myself. I never learned how to properly study, or at least find a way to study on my own, because things came so easy to me in elementary and middle school. Since studying a subject that I didn’t understand seemed impossible, I could never remember anything I tried to study, and studying at home was difficult because of everything going on there and on my mind, I started giving up.

When I was having trouble in school, you didn’t once consider that maybe my home life had something to do with it, nor did you ever approach me in a gentle, loving, or encouraging manner after I had failed, in high school or college especially. Instead, you got angry, basically told me that I had no future, and punished me for my bad grades, if only with your anger and cold, loveless demeanor, which are manipulative tactics you use to get what you want from someone, or to just make sure they know you’re better than they are in every way.

Of course I started hiding my grades from you. R hid his alcohol and mostly got away with his behavior. And you never gave me a reason to want to come to you with anything concerning because of how you treated me afterwards. There were times I decided, “you know what, I’m not going to lie anymore, I really want to be a good person” and told you the truth about something I was scared to. All I got was anger, and punishment. I learned lying was the best course of action in order to survive life at home.

You both often used me against each other, in some kind of insane war game that only I ever lost, because you rarely got mad at each other when I was involved in these disputes. I was the one that constantly took the fall, and as a result, I always felt like a failure who couldn’t do anything right, even though what was happening was that I was receiving constant mixed messages from people that I’m supposed to trust implicitly. A lot of times I didn’t know I was doing anything wrong until I was snarled at by an angry parent, learning only what to avoid doing instead of what I could do within my power to make you both happy, which was impossible, because R’s drinking was the biggest problem and no adult with the power to do anything about it, would.

At home, I always had to try to keep things as happy as possible and avoid conflict, because any time you or R were angry, the household was tense and scary, and then all I could do was hide in my room, even though I didn’t really feel much safer there than anywhere else.  

Tuesdays and Saturdays were my most hated days, because when you and R were alone with me, you both showed me your worst sides. They were similar, yet so different. The main themes were anger towards me or about life in general, then taking it out on me with heated and irritable attitudes, and my feeling guilty, always, even if I’d done nothing wrong… guilt that I shouldn’t be feeling, that you both made me feel because, in my mind, if you were so mad and not being loving, then I must be a horrible person unworthy of love.

You and I were side by side in a war against R on Tuesdays or anytime we were alone together. We’d talk about his alcoholism behind his back and pretend everything was okay to his face. You made me keep quiet about his alcoholism to everyone else, too, and you shamed me for feeling bad because of things R did, putting it on me to make myself happy when one of my guardians, someone who is supposed to protect and love me and be there for me, is a monster in my own home. I should have been allowed to express how I was feeling, but no. If I was sad because of him, then it was my fault for not making myself happy enough. So messed up to do to a kid...

You were so eager to have me confront R about his alcoholism when we were still living in the trailer and I was, what, in middle school? He shouted at me, made me sit on the couch and called me a liar until you got home. This was for at least a couple of hours, if not longer… It was either late afternoon or evening and it was a day you were working late. I was terrified, crying, not understanding what I did wrong, eventually going so far as to say I must have misunderstood, I hadn’t seen beer cans near him that he was trying to hide after all. You kept me in a home with constant verbal abuse and put my life in the hands of an alcoholic, instead of kicking him out for good. You chose him over me when it really mattered, and let the abuse continue to happen. Even after he hit you with the doorknob. (That was physical abuse, whether or not you deny it. It may have been accidental, but he sure wasn’t sorry until a while afterwards.)

I was “Daddy’s Girl” on Saturdays or evenings when you worked late, when he’d act friendly and nice, give me money, and send me off to play outside while he got drunk by himself. Then I’d have to come home and deal with his yelling at me and calling me names because he was always in a horrible mood when he was drunk, of course. Sometimes he was watching porn and rushed to turn it off when I walked in unexpectedly. He often said weird, mean things about you behind your back when he was mad/drunk (or making really gross, sleazy jokes about you, or doing gross or reckless things when drunk that were worse than the crap I’d see in those rated R movies that you were so adamant about me not seeing). And saying things like “yeah I know your mom wouldn’t say yes, but I’ll let you [do a thing]” and then you’d get mad at me for doing said thing. That happened several times when I went over to a friend’s house for later than you expected because R said I could, and he was asleep drunk and you were angry at him, and took it out on me.

You also were never supportive of my art, which for a while was extremely important to me. I desperately wanted you to be proud of me because I was an artist like your brother. I always thought of the painting of the deer on his wall that you liked. I still get upset over the memory of the time that I worked hard to create some art for R for Father’s Day. I excitedly showed you, and you told me it wasn’t good enough, that I wasn’t 5 years old anymore and art wasn’t an acceptable gift, and made me, the morning of Father’s Day, go to Wal-Mart and buy a gift. My money and time was never mine, either. When I was an age I was allowed to work, you immediately had me working at your shop. When I had a job away from you, they were less important than my working for you, and even when I had work to do elsewhere, you pressured me to do tasks for you (this was documented on the Livejournal you infiltrated). As soon as I moved back from my divorce you pushed me to get a job and demanded I hand over my money to you so I wouldn’t spend it. More emotional abuse and controlling behavior.

There was no sympathy for having been through months of a tense and scary household, being yelled at night and day (yes, literally yelled) whenever my ex felt like it. You and R were both very sure to tell me about how you guys have been married soooo long and never would consider divorce… and look how happy you are. Heh. Getting divorced was the best thing that ever happened to me. I decided someone wasn’t good for me, took control of my life, and left. Now I have someone perfect for me, that shows me love the way you never could, and I finally feel at home.

My partner and I do literally everything together because for the most part we have the same interests, though we both feel free to at any point leave or have someone over and see who we choose, whenever we choose, without feeling like our owner is waiting for us. He has never once gotten angry at me, and ever since I learned anger didn’t have to be an option, we work our problems out with conversation, love, understanding, compassion, and a lot of hugs and kisses. Do you have a relationship like that with R?

I have had friends of many stripes -- male, female, transgender, non-binary, black, white, asian, gay, Christian, Pagan, Muslim, poor and successful, disabled in many different ways, old, young, people with life experiences different than mine that I want to know as friends, while you don’t want anything to do with people that aren’t white, straight, cisgender, actively working in a career you find acceptable, and Christian. Or part of your side of the family. When I grew up, I found it really weird and sad the way you always looked down your nose at R’s family, by the way. You have a specific demeanor whenever you’re around someone you feel you’re better than. As supportive as you might feel you are, you have never treated his family as equals. Why else did we only ever see them once in a blue moon, except By The Order of M?

Here you are, behind R’s back, demanding I tell you privately what you did that was abusive, not even attempting to try to see any of your faults. Does R even know how bad things have gotten? You sure did hide it a while anyway. Hiding the truth by omission is still lying, you know. I thought you always told the truth, no matter what? If you have to hide it because you’re scared, I understand. My previous marriage and living with you and R felt like that too.

After I got divorced and moved back in with you, you and R both had snide comments to say about my divorced status, and you both treated me as if I was a child; giving me chores and daily reminders to get a damned job and interrupting me when I was doing things I wanted or needed to do (like searching for said job) with no regard to my status as an adult with their own life. If you had been gentle and given me time to recover from my divorce, I would have been happy to spend time with you. But it was your schedule I had to do things on, and I had to do it with a smile on my face, or I wasn’t being grateful enough for your hospitality. You were so worried about having a deadbeat adult child at home that you made living there feel like you really did think I was a young kid again -- everything I did, you had to know about and approve of before it happened, and you attempted to control whatever of me you could. I felt under constant scrutiny and you seemed to have complete a lack of empathy for what I had been through. Were you seriously really surprised that I moved back out the first chance I could?

I didn’t spend my life running away from responsibility, though that’s what you always believed. I spent it running away from you and R, but mostly you. You keep telling me that you’re far away now and you can’t be blamed for any of my hurt feelings, but here you are, hurting me, time and time again, by showing me that my wants and needs don’t matter to you.

“The human that came from my body”? Seriously? You’re so petty and unwilling to give me a damned inch that you refuse to use a name I’ve had legally for over a decade. It would have been so little effort for you to just do this one thing to make me happy, but that was too hard for you.

If you feel guilty about wasting your time and your relationship with me, it is now on you. I am 15 years and a country away from you... and I am NOT just a kid anymore. If you had any thought of trying to fix our relationship, please don't. I don't think that would be possible at this point. (Sound familiar?) 

(Note for Tumblr: The original line I took that last paragraph from was in one of her previous emails. “If you feel guilty about wasting your time and your talents, it is now on you. We are 15 years and a country away from you... and you are NOT just a kid anymore. If you had any thought of sending any Mother's Day thing, please don't. I don't think that would be appropriate right now. You are welcome and even encouraged to call or email anytime you like, but I will not be bothering you.... “)

Please leave me alone. You have done enough damage and I’m so tired of hurting because of you. This is the last message you will receive from me. Your number and emails will be blocked. Packages and letters will be thrown away. You are no longer welcome in my life.

I wish you the best your life has to offer, and hope perhaps in time you’ll gain some perspective.

==TF

PS: Life Tips I have personally learned that may help you:

Love others for who they are, not for who you wish they were.

Others can make educated decisions and do well without you micromanaging every step. Trusting them can be difficult, but when things work out, a bond is built and made stronger.

If someone in your life makes you feel like a bad person, especially when everyone else you know confirms that you’re doing okay, they aren’t worth keeping around.

All creatures and people are worthy of respect, even those you disagree with, except for those who actively seek to hurt others.

You can make many practical and useful objects with LEGOs.

Approach as many situations as possible without anger, and with love.

PS part 2: Fun Facts:

You and R set up a playhouse for me, and I eventually got in trouble when I was 11 or so because naughty things were happening in there. It started when I was 9, I think (that may not be quite right, but it was a long time before we were caught and the playhouse was turned into a shed as punishment), because the brother of one of my friends that was a bit older (14 or 15) convinced his sister and I to play Truth or Dare with him. We had no idea that any of it was bad, really. He showed us his penis and had us touch it (yes, me and his sister. We kind of queasily poked it and giggled because it was sticky (it was a hot day), and that was that. The brother and sister moved away soon after, but the games continued. It became a game that spread around our street. Kids I knew (girls mostly) would come over and play Truth or Dare or Strip Uno with me, just an excuse to see each others’ genitals really; except for the one time with my friend's brother, no touching happened at all, but the one experience with him made me less interested in boys. Boy parts were gross, lol. One of us always kept watch out the window in case anyone came to ruin our fun. That’s all it was to us, was fun. We never thought it was dangerous. But after R hit me and you both shouted at me, you, M, took me away to tell me horrible stories about R's sister and warn me that I didn't want to end up like her. I was grounded for a month. You made me feel like a piece of shit for being a curious kid, and I knew to never come to you about anything sexual ever again, at risk of embarrassment, having you angry at me, and severe punishment.

In 2002, I told you I won a trip to a furry convention in Pennsylvania. I didn’t. An online friend (one I’d never met in real life before but I had known for a couple of years and trusted) paid my way to go. I had an awesome time, nothing bad happened, and I made it home safe. I made a lot of friends and it was the first time I truly felt independent. Soon after that I met someone I cared about, that cared about me at the time, who offered me a way out. I had to take it, for my own sanity.

I remember the exact day I started questioning Christianity. I had gone to Wednesday church when we first started going to the new one, and the children’s wednesday church leaders were teaching everyone how to speak in tongues. It felt ridiculous when I did it, but I did it anyway and was praised by the leaders for how I was doing it, and kind of thought maybe felt closer to God? Maybe? If that’s what it felt like, I could jive with it. Then when I got to the car with you two, I told you what happened, and you were appalled and saying things like “oh we don’t do THAT, that’s weird” etc. But in my head, if both religions were “Christian,” why was one considered weird? Why was the one my family was part of the only “true” religion? The entire world, full of diverse, amazing people of all faiths exist and they have validity too. Even if what you’ve been brainwashed with since you were born says otherwise.

When I was a Freshman, I went over to a guy friend’s house (a Senior, his parents were home, and one of you dropped me off and picked me up). I just wanted to hang out with him as a friend; I wasn’t interested in him romantically, but I thought he was cool because he was about to head off to college the next year and we were interested in similar things. He got me into his room and forced oral sex on me with his parents in the next room, growling at me not to make a sound, then tried to make me do it to him. I avoided it, not without a lot of anger on his side. I was freaked out when one of you came to pick me up, but I was too scared of how you’d react to tell you about what happened. I knew you would find a way to blame me, so crying in private was easier.

After the playhouse incident, I continued to be excited to see my female friends naked during sleepovers, and when I was a Sophomore in high school, I realized I was bisexual and came out to my friends. I had sex with most of the girls I ever had a sleepover with after that, but was scared of boys because of #4 above, so mostly I only liked the ones that didn't like me back, until my first serious boyfriend when I was almost a Junior.

I had my ticket for Seattle before that last semester of college started while I lived with you. I worked hard to make my fake schedule accurate so you wouldn’t know I was planning to leave. On days I was supposed to have class according to my fake schedule, I left every day in the morning and most times came home right after you left for work. Sometimes I’d drive to the local park with the old church ruins, sit and watch nature and daydream about the day I’d be free. I wasn’t ready for college then. I’m trying again anyway, this time with online courses so my disabilities aren’t in the way.

I live with a loving husband that shows me I’m his world, two cats, and a bearded dragon, all of whom I love with all my heart, and I do my best every day to show it. I breed fish and snails for the local pet store, craft, further my studies privately, and live in a big open concept apartment with a heart-shaped two-person bathtub. I’m okay. And once I’ve healed from almost 35 years of emotional and verbal abuse, I’ll be amazing.

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More venting. :/ Gotta love depression. But at least this helps me get my thoughts out of my head.

I feel like no matter what I do, I’m stuck in this cage of complete failure. I’ve tried so many things to attempt to get money, and nobody cares. Nobody will give me a chance. Either that, or my plans fall through completely.

Small and large setbacks on pretty much every front are killing me, confidence and emotion-wise. I want to be self-sufficient, to bring in money for myself or feel like I’m doing good deeds for the world. But right now...ugh...

okay, I’m gonna go through some specific examples.

1) I’ve been wanting to breed fish successfully since last summer. If sickness of various sorts didn’t kill my fish off, they kept eating their young. Finally yesterday my partner and I managed to capture a bunch of baby fish and put them in a small fish nursery. Another, separate set of eggs was slowly disappearing, being eaten... so I thought quickly and we managed to move the eggs into another fish nursery. 

If you’re unaware, nurseries for fish are often made of mesh material with a plastic frame to keep its shape, or it has small slits in basically a plastic box. These sit in a larger aquarium and keep baby fish from getting eaten by larger ones. 

When the fish I’m breeding hatch from their eggs, for a couple days they’re in “wiggler” stage, meaning they’re not able to swim yet. The baby fish hatched this morning, all looked great. I took a nap, and when I woke up... they were gone. All of them. I have no idea what happened... my best guess is that they managed to wiggle themselves out of the slots on the sides of the plastic nursery, they are really super tiny... :c 

At least we still have the slightly older babies. If I don’t manage to kill them with my ineptitude, that will give me a slight boost in morale.

2) Breeding fish was never meant to be this big money making scheme, but I was hoping to at least cover some expenses. This hobby really is a money sink though, and with so much failure and so much that can go so wrong so fast every time, I haven’t been able to sell anything yet, which is killing my drive to continue. 

One thing that is going somewhat right are my ivory mystery snails (pretty little guys, they look like little pearls) but they grow so slowly, and aren’t really worth all that much. I’ll be able to sell those to the local fish store when they’re large enough, maybe in another month or so. I might get .50 apiece if I’m lucky. 

3) I have never really managed to be self-sufficient. Due to anxiety, depression and health issues my entire life, I’ve rarely held a job that lasted more than a few months. So I’m trying desperately to find my niche -- what I’m meant to do, what I’m good at, and what I can physically handle, that can actually bring in money.

I’ve been trying to find ideas. I put a gig up on Fiverr to help people with their pet problems. No matter where I share it, I get maybe one person that shares it, and no bites. I just want to scream, “Please!! I’m good at this! You have to see, just try, just give me a fucking chance! Why don’t you care? Why doesn’t anybody care...?”

I’m running out of ideas. I just want to move out of this tiny apartment and have a house where I can go outside and enjoy the fresh air without feeling stared at by the neighbors that share the backyard. I want room to have chickens, and maybe that will go right, maybe then I can feel like I’m contributing, and I’m not such a burden on my endlessly patient, sweet and kind husband. 

But to get a house, I need money. I need to not be a useless college dropout either way. If I could go to college and take biology courses, and become a biologist and do some good for the world...

But I can’t, because I’m broken as fuck and can barely leave the house. Go me.

4) I am still majorly fucked up about my parents. That’s not going away for a while. I would really like to go back to counseling, but taking the first step, calling, making an appointment, mentally and emotionally preparing... it’s so daunting. I know I can do it, I’m just...so tired.

5) I also need money for a treadmill so my anxious lard ass can exercise without a) killing myself slipping on ice outside, and b) having to go outside. 

6) at least the suicidal urges have stopped?

7) I still kind of low key want to be dead 

8) but there are so many animals to pet that I haven’t petted, so I can’t die yet

9) Lastly, I just feel lonely. I know people nearby, but none live close enough that it isn’t a huge ordeal for us to get together, and I’m so tired of trying to be okay enough for longer visits that make their journey worth it. 

And... my heart is still pretty broken from a few fairly recent experiences, and it’s been hard to be around other people as a result. I definitely don’t trust people as easily as I used to, for better or worse. At least I can’t get hurt by being a hermit. 

10)  I hate having a uterus. Oh my god. Please just give me a sharpened spoonsadkjfjskfd

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I just realized, the danish my parents sent me, that we threw away... I could have given it to someone in need. :c Yay another reason to hate myself

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I’m 35 years old. I’ve been living away from my parents since I was 19. And I’m still trying to get past everything that has happened, both long ago and recently. 

I’m so messed up. I mean... honestly, I hold it together pretty well, at least enough to take care of my responsibilities most of the time. But sometimes it hits me that I’ve blocked contact from my parents, and essentially, I feel like I don’t have parents. I’m not sure if “anymore” is appropriate here; it’s been so long since I felt like they were parents and not people I was forced to visit and dreaded every moment of seeing.

Nevertheless, it does affect me. It hurts more than anything, seeing people with parents that love them. Hearing those parents talk about how proud they are of their children, adults or youngsters alike. Those are never things I will hear. Even if I went back, apologized, and started talking to my parents again, I know I would never hear those words. They’re just not the kind of people that say those things.

Nor are they the kind of people to stop drinking when it hurts the family, to be kind towards a child or adult coming to them with concerns, to be open minded, to use my legal name or acknowledge I came out to them as nonbinary.

The stories I have, of times they have shown me a complete lack of respect, of times they’ve hurt and abused me, times they have blamed me for each others’ doings and made me take sides, times they’ve ignored my boundaries, of times they have showed me that what I want and who I am doesn’t matter to them...

I can’t keep people in my life that hurt me so much, no matter who they are. But I still mourn the death of what I now know I haven’t had since I was young, and will never have again: older people to look up to and learn from, to love and care for that love and care for me, and show me they love me with more than just empty words. People that are proud of me.

I wonder if I’ll ever be okay.

PS, parents, Thanks for the fucking mail-order danish for Christmas (which was sent after they knew I was not taking their messages anymore). It went directly in the trash after my partner agonized over whether or not to show me because he knew it’d affect me.

That wasn’t even the most egregious of the things they did this season, but I’ve spent enough time on this subject. 

Just... fuck, man. *rubs face* 

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Sprouts! :D - 11-05-17

I saw my first itty bitty baby dandelion sprouts yesterday! I planted a bunch in a bucket a week ago, and just noticed the proud little tops of FOUR straight-standing sproutlings. The first of many, with any luck! *crosses fingers*

Hopefully it won't be too long til I can give baby Toto his first taste of home-grown dandelion greens! :D

I did end up getting worms as well, but I ended up placing them in a separate container for now until the dandelions grow some. I was a bit over-eager and got some a bit earlier than I should have, haha. Hopefully the wormies will be happy and make lots of babies! 

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10/20/17 - SomeFin Special

The new fish breeding business I’ll be starting up, SomeFin Special, is already kind of alive and active in my mind. I’ve already started breeding guppies, and I have ordered some carbon rili shrimp from http://www.shrimpfever.com/ that will hopefully start a nice little breeding colony in the 20 gallon with my guppies. They’ll also help to clean the tank, which is an excellent little bonus!

I’m starting to really enjoy seeing how all the creatures in my care interact with each other. One of my guppies just gave birth, and the only way I know that is that an older baby was chasing a teeny little speck that was running away from it. So cool! I can’t wait to see how they look when they’re older. Or how they look at all, haha. I can’t tell which end is head or tail on those microscopic blips. XD

And now, I have my new baby mascot, a badass bearded dragon! (Okay, less badass and more ABSOLUTELY ADORABLE oh my jeepers <33) I’ll explain a bit more about him in another post.

Anyway, what’s been going through my mind lately are thoughts of expanding my projects to include a worm (european nightcrawler) and dandelion farm. If I can grow dandelions, those will be great for my bearded dragon, and I can use the worms to feed my fish and have as treats for the beardie as well. The dandelions will benefit from the nice soil the worms make, and I’ll water them with fish tank water that is full of nutrients. I’ll give the worms veggies that the beardie didn’t eat. So everything works together. :) Fish, lizard, worms, dandelion, soil. And... gosh, it would be so nice to have a better place to lay to rest any beloved fish that pass away (as long as they didn’t die of something that could be passed to the worms). 

The reason why I chose European Nightcrawlers specifically is because if I happen to have such good luck breeding that I have extras, I can sell them to people looking for fishing bait. :D So there’s that too! Hopefully, eventually, I can have a setup for everything that helps to sustain itself.

I’m pretty excited about how things are progressing! I still need to get a better camera so I can start making vlogs and hopefully gain some traction on YouTube as well. We’ll see how it goes! 

And speaking of going, I better get to bed XD *scoot*