#and I'm dying of neglect

[anyu-blue]

~

It was worse today, oddly. I got through. Convinced myself that using the 2 hours of protected time I have saved wasn’t worth using to go in later. Better to just work the whole day and get the pay. Normally the next day is better. I don’t feel as bad because I’ve slept and ebbed some of the pain away and it’s helped some part of my brain be okay too... but it wasn’t better. It was so hard to get through and I’m honestly surprised at how hard. My coworkers definitely could tell something was off and kept bugging me with mundane stuff just to talk and have me talk back. It was kind and I am grateful for their care in whatever capacity they can spare it. I used my earbuds and music to get my mind away as much as I could too... and still by the end of the day it wasn’t enough. I was in so much agony I refused to keep pushing to do the last two boxes where normally I would have tried. I took pain meds. I took extra kinds too and extra measures to avoid as much backlash as I could in all areas... still not enough. I’m a little worried that whatever that thing I had for so long that kept me going when I hit rock bottom is gone now. Cuz I’d fall so very, very far... lose all faith and hope.. and then suddenly I was ANGRY and then HAPPY because SPITE appeared out of nowhere and I had a new vigor and lease on life. .. I’m worried that won’t happen again... after my sister took everything out of me when we moved and with this tiredness only appearing to grow and grow... I don’t know that it’ll come to save me.. or if I’ll come to my own rescue like that again or whatever it is. I know leaving would hurt them.. those who claim to love me. I know. But, as ever... that little voice in the back of my head keeps telling me all the ways they took me for granted when I COULD provide their lives with something and they would absolutely be 100% fine without me. 99% of the people in my life don’t reach out first. They don’t reach out at all but are happy to tell me they’re disappointed I don’t reach out more... when I do and then am ignored, given the minimum of small talk, or am (rightfully) told they don’t have the time to be friendly at the moment. Life’s too busy for friends... especially strange ones that can’t seem to succeed in life like they have or are trying to. I have no interest in classes. I have no interest in memberships. I have very little interest in even going out especially because I’m much more comfortable wearing a mask wherever I go. I know a big part of that disinterest is because, well.. my health. Classes and gym memberships are supposed to be great to help with stuff like that... but when I get stressed in the right ways (or overdo it especially on accident from unexpected life stuff) my internals overwork and start attacking themselves, making it difficult to attend classes or make the memberships worth the cost if I can’t go/am glued to the porcelain throne and a diet not meant to help anything but get by- bare minimum for ease on system. It’s easier to not want to do it than deal with the struggles and the shame of not being able to show up... everyone everywhere gets tired of it eventually. I am trying to do what I can at home. I’m not just sitting on my ass... I still practice what Physical therapy I remember/have the sheets for... I got a small pedal bike to replace my big one I can no longer use thanks to the space issues (I’m playing with it under my desk as I type)... I like yoga when I have the energy for it. And walks. And I have invited people to go with me to the park (I don’t feel right being an adult going on my own so every ‘no’ makes me very sad, sadly).. I broke down and bought myself $160 shoes (I’m still freaking out.. TOO MUCH MONEY) to try and help with the pain so maybe I CAN just go and be on my feet on my own more outside of work... I know what foods to avoid and keep on hand to help myself, by myself... *sigh* ... but it’s just not good enough. It’s NEVER going to be good enough for anyone else. I’m told as long as it’s good enough for me that’s what matters... but I am already so alone... and I also know how bad that is. Loneliness can kill. And that not a soul does what I did for them for so long... not one of them sees how unfair it is that I HAVE to be the one to reach out/ask (legit told by my adopted parents that if I desire a relationship with them or my siblings at all *I* must be the one to reach out to them and plan events and work around their lives... I told them then and there that it works both ways. I will do it when I can... but if it is not returned, it will obviously stop. I am more a mirror now that I ever was. I give what I get. I do not have the energy to do it all anymore.... and I’m not given any by others to then give back to them).. and they never will first. It’s my fault... I had the energy at one point. I did it all. Worked multiple jobs so I could. Attended events, planned, got people together, tried and tried and tried and tried so hard for so many years to be heard and understood and to understand and I succeeded in understanding!! .... but I failed in being understood...and then I collapsed in on myself... I failed to have the energy to keep going... everyone tells me that even asking a fraction of what I did out of the kindness of my heart back is asking way too much. Not a soul can reciprocate. Not even remembering my favorite color... or date of birth... not even saving it in their phones. Well... they don’t have that energy for me. I see them doing it for others. People they love and enjoy the company of (and some they don’t but have reasons to want to impress or stay in good graces of)... and that’s where all their energy goes. Nothing left for weird ‘ol me. Because I’m too weird (and for some odd reason many believe horrid things my sister spewed to them that weren’t true then and haven’t been true since I was a literal child that didn’t know well enough. Or when she purposefully aggravated me into a state of distress so severe I was distraught... (and did they believe me when I told them she did it on purpose? That she liked doing it? Absolutely not. They still think I’m the one trying to manipulate the story/her when I made her tell them what she told me she was doing.) They can’t move past it... and nothing I’ve tried or done over the years has changed any of that because they likely think I have some sinister motive or a bomb waiting just under the surface of my skin. They literally won’t look at me. ... Honestly... this is actually reminding me of why I shouldn’t trust my sister at all. I’ve been the best I can be to her even after all the shit she’s done to me... but I don’t think I should relax and trust her. .. what an awful thing to say. And yet what kind of person does that? ... Someone who does and has fully admitted to hating every single part of me...) ... This too is a great example of why people can’t stand me. I can’t be short and sweet. Take up too much space and time- especially with words... especially with words they think has one meaning, but I know and use with another (dictionary definition- my special interest in words/what they mean)... why would people want to spare their energy if they think I’ll take up more than they want to give? And it seems, to me, that I only have anything interesting to say when life, well, sucks... because my hobbies are boring or confusing to them. My interests too niche. And who has time for things they can’t bond with people over? ... usually for them it’s TV shows, Video Games, Books, or Movies I can’t touch.... because they’re too violent and unpleasant for me. I try... and hate it and just get scoffed at for not liking it- never mind I’m happy they like it and I’m happy to listen... but, again... who has the energy to then turn around and listen to someone talk about something they have no idea of or any interest in? ... Life, for me... is filled with a lot of unfair imbalances. I do something for them... but never, EVER should I EVER ask them to do the same for me... (oh but I have to ask them to do it anyway or I’m the bad guy for not trying to engage them at all. I need to give them the chance to say ‘no’.. oh but also I can’t KEEP asking them to listen or reciprocate behaviors more than once per situation or topic because that’s just being an irritating pest) I’m preeetty convinced at this point every single one of them thinks one of the others will say ‘yes’ to me... or give back what I’ve given in some way, even if small, and that their contribution is not actually needed because someone else has got it... not realizing.. ALL of them are doing the same things... unknowingly... “someone else has the time/patience/desire to sit with Meek. Otherwise they wouldn’t be doing so well!! Someone else surely must have someone to listen to them and be kind!! Cuz I sure don’t/can’t!! And that’s okay!!”  (My sister SAYS she does it for me.. and she claims to do it WAY TOO MUCH... but in reality.. it’s once in maaaaybe 6 months at this point... and she lies and lies and lies. Blows it up to make me seem ungrateful. It’s awful to see her messages to people.) No... no I don’t... no one... but me... and it’s weighing on me so hard... because they ALL... all of them... has more than one other someone doing things for them.. remembering them... being kind... returning their favors. Friends AND family... not even one or the other.  Beautiful birthday and lesser holiday gifts and arrangements... Well wishes. Check-ins... invites... many from yours truly.. that I only include my sisters in because they feel bad for forgetting and/or don’t want to look bad... all the Holiday and Christmas gifts of last year... hundreds and hundreds of dollars (I went all out for Easter and I fought HARD for Halloween when they all PROMISED they’d plan it.. and didn’t), sure, but also thoughtful, personalized cards.. thinking of every single forgotten person I could... ALL OF THEM. Were from ME. Me ALONE. This year.... so far All the birthday gifts... Easter... everything.... save for Mother’s day for one person. ONE of the MANY who were kind to my sister!! She thought of (and spoiled) ONE. I fought to match the same for her husband for fathers day... I’m... I’m so tired. Not everyone like gifts, and I know that. Everyone has a different love language... I’ve learned SO MANY. .... not one wants to learn mine. Passes it off to the ‘next person (who also isn’t there)’... and I’ve gotten nothing back once I stopped providing all I could.. once, in their eyes, I suppose I stopped ‘earning’ my place in their lives. I have one friend who tries her best... I do. She does. But she also has an extremely hard life too. That she makes an effort is not lost on me. Not at all. I owe her my life in so many ways. I do everything every chance I get for her. She knows of my plight and my pain because I have asked, many, many times if feeling weird about a response or situation with context from both sides is wrong of me. She has never failed to be honest and, like.. SUUUUPER blunt with me. I’ve been in the wrong a few times... but for the most part... I have not been wrong for feeling so god damn IGNORED and taken for granted and... lonely. One person does not loneliness or abandonment cure, as kind as they may be when they can be. Especially if compared to literally every other person these people make these damn efforts for EXCEPT me.. aaaaand the people they’re happy to tell me all about how much they hate so they won’t do stuff for even if that person is ‘playing nice’.... I don’t think people realize how much they actually just.. don’t care for me or my presence.. if they don’t outright hate me. I haven’t always been pleasant.. I know I’m not being pleasant NOW. .. and that this is what is here for everyone to see... But I tried. So hard. For so long. To appear to be doing well. I tried to redirect my thoughts and entire being to being content and happy and fulfilled and I tried to share that with everyone. Not even in hopes of them sharing my joy, but in hopes of not dragging them down. and still... for all that effort... call me ungrateful. Go right ahead. Call me expectant. Call me selfish... Not one whom I devoted all that they asked of me to... gave anything back. I’ve said before I’ve devoted my time to the wrong people... obviously I have. They’re who is here. They’ve asked me to.. told me to sometimes as well. And still... to whom CAN I devote it all to and be treated like a worthy being in return?  My father has asked it of him... and yet I know that isn’t going to go a good direction either because I can’t stand his religion or his idea that well... I’m not trying hard enough. He fully believes I am capable of holding down a full time job, doing my hobbies, going to outings, being as ever helpful as I am, and making it entirely on my own just as he did..... when no matter how I try to tell him and show him I am not capable of that.. That I am currently at my absolute limit and pushing it every day... he will not listen. I am autistic... with autoimmune conditions... severe trauma and depression... in a climate that is demanding way too much of people. *snorts* actually... I think that’s many peoples’ problem with me right there. All these invisible issues... They see a perfectly healthy person standing before them and can’t fathom why I say I’m struggling when I also only ‘have’ to work 3 days a week... they don’t see the pain.. and I can’t actually show them the damage... and if I show any symptoms at all.. well I must be doing it for attention because I was ‘just fine before’. ... instead of realizing just how good I got at hiding it... or even just how used to the complaining and their own simple irritation at it if I ‘wasn’t going to do jack-shit about it’... when I was.. and they did nothing to help. (I also wonder how many are hiding behind their ignorance to avoid guilt. cuz I SUFFERED.. and was literally beaten for being in pain... while my siblings were brought to doctors and specialists and given everything to make sure they were okay).. I got the diagnosis on my own... multiple times over... I’ve had the x-rays and ultrasounds and antibiotics and medications and at one point I shared every. single. one. of. them. Publicly. To PROVE I’m not... not... unworthy. Faking... vying for something I don’t deserve. And.. it changes nothing... to them.. all of them.. I’m unworthy. ..eheh... I can’t tell you how many of them would spew vile and venom at me for using that word... planting that definition on their actions. But it is literally what they show me every. single. time.

[autisticrosewilson]

Um if you write Jason having to get drugs for Catherine I want you dead btw. Not only does it tell me you assume the average drug dealer would give the hard shit to a very small child and then not supervise them at all (classist stereotype that all drug dealers are inherently evil + lazy writing with no grasp on reality) and you genuinely think that Catherine was CONSTANTLY high, as if that's even possible without overdosing far sooner than she did. That's without even getting into the bad mom Catherine propaganda.

[penddraig]

# PENDDRAIG .    ❛  that's why i love spiders.  ‘ if at first you don’t succeed,  try,  try,  try,  again.  ’      i keep trying,  but i brought it on myself by making a bargain some years ago,  and i know i shall never be able to love anyone properly now.  ❜

Independent,   private,  &.  selective rp blog for howl jenkins pendragon from the world of ingary series (books) &.  howl’s moving castle / ハウルの動く城 (movie).  book-canon with movie influences. my howl is transgender ftm &. asian-welsh. written by kat, she/her, 27. i am not affiliated with diana wynne jones,  or hazao miyazaki. i wish i was.  &.  please don't associate me with anime fandoms.   read my carrd !   no minors please.

[thecatspirits]

- TO DO LIST -

Analysis of the queer coding of Eddie and Richie across all IT canon material (1986 novel, 1990 miniseries, and 2017 & 2019 films + possibly The World of IT, Official Character Spotify Playlists, and 11/22/63)

Analysis about my interpretation of the Losers Club fears in the 1986 IT novel and the changes made in the 2017 & 2019 films

General character analysis of each Losers Club member

Time-accurate music playlists for each Losers Club member for my IT AU called Ouroboros

Analysis of the queer coding in the Quarry Scene

[damienthepious]

i know so fucking little about how to code a webbed site im going to die

[robinsnest2111]

me lacking a filter when coworkers engage me in casual conversation to learn more about my life results in some of the most awkward silences and concerned looks ever 👍

like yeah, the trauma is deeply intertwined with my entire life, even the smallest things that usually aren't tinged with trauma for most of the population teehee

[reinemichele]

Wait hold on

Do we count not regenerating as suicide??? Bc if we do, that means that the master has killed themself out of spite 4 times, 5 if you count the Lumiat as canon (I do), and 2 of those were simm!master and 2 of those were missy, and 4 of them were motivated by the doctor

[nexus-nebulae]

stupid fucking broken body

[alinedreams]

People with perfectly operable uterine maladies become gravely disabled and even die, all because doctors ignore us over "but you need to be a baby factory, it's all you're good for".

Sometimes we're believed, but we're just downright neglected because we aren't even seen as people.

Reminder that people with invisible disabilities aren't the only ones who get ignored and accused of lying by doctors. People with visible and severe, even deadly disabilities aren't automatically believed. Some severely and visibly disabled people die because doctors won't believe that they're really sick, accuse them of faking or exaggerating and deny them treatment. This kind of treatment isn't unique to any one kind of disability, it's something that most or perhaps even all of us have faced at one point or another.

[neverendingford]

.

[penddraig]

# PENDDRAIG .    ❛  that's why i love spiders.  ‘ if at first you don’t succeed,  try,  try,  try,  again.  ’      i keep trying,  but i brought it on myself by making a bargain some years ago,  and i know i shall never be able to love anyone p̲r̲o̲p̲e̲r̲l̲y̲ now.  ❜

 independent,   private,    &.    selective blog for howl jenkins pendragon from howl’s moving castle (movie) &. the howl series (books) .    book-canon with movie influences. unaffiliated with the anime / animated rpc.   enchanted by kat.   25+.    she/her.  prev uizado. no minors please.  carrd.

[dredshirtroberts]

god. no one prepares you for the irritation and anger that comes when assistive devices and medical equipment actually fix your problems.

[debtsunpaid]

tag drop for TOMMY WILLOWTREE from hellblazer (2019), enthusiastic new age occultist and wannabe hero doomed by the narrative! his song is 'crane your neck' by lady lamb.

[former-leftist-jew]

Anon is full of shit.

do you really think you're the victim in this situation? children are being bombed every day, do you think they're less human than you?

Children are bombed every day? Wow. Shocking. I had no idea.

(One of my first memories is the sound of explosion, and the way my home shook. I was seven.)

I don't think others are, as you put it, "less human" then me. But apparently YOU seem to think that way.

See, all I do is writing about *my* experiences, and things that actually have a matter to my own life. So yes, I'm self-centric.

You, on the other hand?

Completely unrelated to the situation. Yet, all you have to do is to complain about.... what exactly? That I share my fears, and pain, and struggles? That I have PTSD? That I'm alive?

But again, I shouldn't be surprised. If "not talking" about something is bc you think they aren't human.

Well.

(Your attempt to silence me says it all.)

~

(ID1: sky with smoke-dots. Those dots are missiles. I took this photo from my home.)

(ID2: a newborn on window pane. Screenshot from news.)

This is 10 days old Kay. His parents hid with him as their house was burnt and their friends and family were murdered. When the shooting got quiet, they opened the door of the smoke-filled room and placed him on the window pane to let him breathe. Then, when the shooting got back to the area, they closed the door and got back to pretend to be dead.

(When I was 17, I hugged my 4 yo sister under my grandma's staircase, as we waited for the explosion.)

א.ט. *אזעקה מוקלטת*

This is me and some of my neighbours on a usual day.

Now, this is pretty old - my area, personally, wasn't bombed in a while.

The area I grew up in, where some of my family still lives, can't say the same.

But hi, it's all depending on the context, as was said.

Not like I'm human or anything.

[shebsart]

Im sick with flu so naturally I picked up my newly bought copy of Howl's Moving Castle which includes DWJ interviews in the back.

And im in love with the way she tells these stories feels like a part of her books.

And my favorite:

The magic in the mundane :)

edit: I'm copying the ID by @princess-of-purple-prose below, thank you!

[ID: Excerpts of printed text which read:

I suppose there's also a biographical element in that Sophie is the eldest of three sisters, and so am I. The idea for Sophie grew out of the time I discovered I had a very severe milk allergy. I almost lost the use of my legs and had to walk with the aid of a stick. I was moderately young, but because of this I suddenly became old.

I had to wait until I knew what Wizard Howl was like. I began to discover Howl about the time when one of my sons took to spending several hours in the bathroom every morning and I got really, really, really annoyed with him.

Where were you when you wrote it? I wrote the book the way I write everything, stretched out on the big sofa in my sitting room, in everyone's way. This often annoys my husband rather a lot.

which made me burst out laughing. I laughed and laughed at the seven league boot, and when I came to the bit where Sophie accidentally makes Howl's suit twenty times too big for him, I laughed so much that I fell off the sofa. My husband was really irritated by this time. He snapped, "You can't be making yourself laugh!" And I gasped, "But I am, I am!" and rolled about on the floor.

Are any of your relatives or friends included in the book? Yes, well the thing that started me off writing the book was a friend of mine who never does her laundry. She has it around the place in huge bags for often as much as a year. When she does tip it all out and try to wash it, she discovers all sorts of clothes that she has forgotten she had.

Which is your favourite part of the book and why? I like the book all over, but I suppose if I had to choose a bit, I'd choose the place where Howl gets a cold. It so happened that when I was writing this bit, my husband caught a bad cold. He is the world's most histrionic cold catcher. He moans, he coughs, he piles on the pathos, he makes strange noises, he blows his nose exactly like a bassoon in a tunnel, he demands bacon sandwiches at all hours, and he is liable to appear (usually wrapped in someone else's dressing gown) at any time, announcing that he is dying of neglect and boredom. So all I had to do was write it down. End ID]

[thebibliosphere]

Not to keep reliving trauma on main, but I'm getting weird deja vu from where my health was a few years ago and where it's at now. And most of it is revolving around Good Omens.

In May of 2019, we genuinely thought I was dying because I was dying. My organs were in the process of shutting down because my red blood cells were prematurely self-destructing and damaging my kidneys in the process, and I was rapidly coming to terms with the fact that I might not survive much longer. I'd fought the good fight, and I'd lost. Mostly due to medical neglect. And I was mad about a lot of things, but do you know what I remember from the traumatic blur I'm left with?

"I'm going to be so pissed if I die before Good Omens comes out."

I'd waited 20+ years at that point for something like a tv adaptation of Good Omens. Ever since I was a child and my dad read the book to me, and I fell in love with it. And here I was, mere weeks away from the TV release and on the verge of death.

Then like a miracle, a miracle that hinged on human compassion and a doctor being willing to listen to me, I was saved. Dragged back from the jaws of death by a relentless hematology department that refused to give up on me and ultimately saved my life. And a week later, I got to watch Good Omens propped up in my own bed, still weak, still ill, with my heart stuttering in my chest every time I laughed. And I remember thinking, "I did it. I got to see it."

That it's now it's 2023 and my health has tanked again. My organs are rebelling against me and no one seems to know why. But yet again, a few weeks before Good Omens is set to release, I find a doctor who listens to me and is doing all he can to help. Striving with the grim kind of determination that can only come from a place of compassion and care. Like my world is worth saving, and not just his.

Which is rather fitting, I think.