#maybe only got like 50-60 uses out of it and i am sooooo upset about that

[daisies-on-a-cup]

coffee maker broken, end of world soon to come, may my death be swift, violent, and broadcasted to all just as my coffee maker's demise was so that we may be reunited if not in a peaceful heaven, then in the decay of our bodies returning to earth

[cocaineballs]

Rant

Trigger warnings: self-harm, mentions of biphobia, minor (or arguably major) spoilers for One Day At A Time and Brooklyn Nine Nine, suicide mentions

I wanna preface this by saying that I’m a queer (bi/gender-fluid/aceflux) latinx (my mom is from Mexico and my dad from Guatemala) who for the most part identifies with she/her pronouns. My mother was born in the late 60s and my father in the late 50s.

I’ve spent the past 14-ish hours watching One Day At A Time because I’ve always seen how good it is and I wanted to finally give it a shot. So, when it came to the episode where Elena comes out to Penelope, I felt so happy to see Elena tell her mom that it felt like a breath of fresh air, which really hit home because that’s what it felt like when I came out to my mom. Albeit, my coming out story when it comes to my mom wasn’t the best. 

I was 16, going on 17 and I remember it happening sometime in March, maybe April. I remember specifically because we got some cats a few weeks after in May, and week(s) prior in March two of my dogs had gotten stolen (a month after one of our other dogs got run over. we had three total). I was really depressed, and losing the dogs was the final straw because they were my babies, so I resorted to self-harming. Much like a lot of people I knew who used to self-harm (and I hope to god they’ve gotten the help they need or at least gotten better from where they were) that was not the first time I self-harmed. I had started when I was 13 and it continued until that day in junior year (I believe, part of me still believes there was a time during my senior year that I might have forgotten about, and the more I think about it, it probably did happen). 

So, my mom finds out that I cut myself and she goes into hysterics, but why wouldn’t she? I’m not the first daughter of hers to harm herself. I’m not the first kid of hers to be depressed. When I step back and think about it, I think we all -collectively as a family- are depressed. But there’s my mother, seeing these fresh cuts on my forearm and she loses it.

“Que hice mal yo? Adonde fue mal?”

And I’m quick to reassure her that it was nothing to do with her. It was all pent up for over a year. The last time I self-harmed myself before that was the end of Freshman year, in 2015. Sophomore year was the hardest year for me (senior year coming in at a close second) but I managed to stay clean. I was clean for thirteen months! Only for it to all go down the drain.

It was all pent up breakdowns from sophomore year, it was all pent up anger I held about my sister. Only a few months prior, my father told me some shit that still hurts to this day, despite the fact I’ve forgiven him for it -and while it’s important to my point, it’s not at the moment, so that’s something I’ll come back to- and it stayed with me for so long. School was going semi-bad and I was tired of all the drama with friends and with whatever drama was going on at home. Plus, I was still healing from being preyed upon by my mother’s ex -something she still does not know about to this day, nobody does. So the dogs being stolen was the last straw and I harmed myself. I cut myself, I pulled on my hair until balls of it were coming out, I would break nails stabbing them into my palms, I even attempted burning myself once. 

So, my mom sees these cuts and she’s crying, blaming herself for it and I’m trying my hardest to tell her that it’s not her fault and my second oldest sister was there, witnessing it all and my niece and nephew were there watching it all go down and I felt so bad. And what hurts most is that it wasn’t the first time my niece was exposed to my cuts, in fact, she was one of the first to see them back when I was thirteen, but she was four going on five at the time, and she understood none of it, she thought I fell and she just said to be careful because she was a kid and that meant more to me than anything. That’s one exchange I still think about a lot. So then my sister leaves and when it’s all quiet and I’m sitting in the aftermath of it all with my mom in the deafening silence, I let it out. 

“Ma, me gustan los muchacho...y las muchachas. Soy bi.” 

And then the room went quiet again and I felt like a sort of weight was lifted. Because I knew I felt that way since I was 12 and I wanted to tell her since I was 13, but I knew it was too soon. And I don’t know why I decided that was a good time to do it. But I did it and I felt relieved because I let it all out. And she told me,

“Eres muy joven para saber lo que quieres. No sabes lo que quieres.”

And it hurt me so much, and I felt sad and lost and I didn’t know what to do, what to say, how to react. I’d never spoken back to my mom and I never planned on it, now was not the time. Soon after, we went with my sister and her kids on a walk and we all calmed down and it was like things went well after. She slowly came around to the idea and it was beautiful and she can joke about it with me now and she accepts me for who I am, and she loves me and that’s all I can ask for.

But then, there’s my dad. I’m a daddy’s girl. He means the world to me and I’m his only daughter. It seems like nowadays, everyone but him knows. Everyone but him knows his baby more than he does. Because I’m still hiding one of the biggest parts of my identity from him. And everybody asks me why.

“He loves you so much, he’ll never stop loving you over this!!”

But how do I know that? All my life I’ve known my father’s love, and I’m so thankful that I have that privilege. I’m so thankful that he’s been my biggest supporter because everything I do, is for him and for my mom. But how do I know that this won’t change things?

I kept watching One Day At A Time, and the way Elena’s dad walked out on her during her quince, because he couldn’t handle who she was. He thought it was a phase. Made me think of when Rosa Diaz came out to her parents in Brooklyn Nine Nine and they weren’t accepting. 

Rosa’s hit home because I have a brother -my oldest brother- who still denies my sexuality. I’ll joke around saying I’m sooooo gay

“Are you really gay?” 

I was under the impression everyone knew. “I’m bi but yeah.”

“That’s not real.”

And I’m stunned. So I tell him it’s real and valid and he says it’s not. And that I’m not gay. I can’t be gay if I’m bi, which he still denies and says is invalid. And it sucks having my racist straight brother tell me that I’m not gay. Not even an actual homosexual family member tells me I’m not gay. But I end up deciding to identify with Queer. Because it seemed more open, more universal, more me. Suddenly the comments stop but he still thinks it’s invalid. And I live with that every day. With his closed-mindedness, telling me to pick a side. As if it’s something I can turn on and off or choose from. 

But back to my dad. He’s loved me all my life. But then in November of 2016, one of my sisters was taken into the hospital because she was a risk to herself. She was suicidal and the ambulance took her. The cops had been tipped off by her boyfriend and they came to my house, and what sucks, even more, is that it’s not the first time it’s happened. So, I answer the door to the cops again at one in the morning on a school night and my sister is avoiding it. So she’s in the shower, but we’ve been through it before and so they ask me questions and I’m shitting bricks because I’m surrounded by three policemen and I’m alone and I’m sure there’s some weed somewhere in the house. My sister gets out and I go back into my room and I’m all alone. Except I’m not. I step out and there’s a policeman in the dining room of our small apartment doing nothing -probably making sure neither of us blows our brains- and I’m having to sneak around in my own house. So when they leave I call my mom to let her know what happened and soon after I’m texting my dad that I won’t be going to school tomorrow -even though I’m on T3 already and I still have a semester to finish. So he calls me asking me what happened and all I say is family emergency. But how do I tell him that my sister is suicidal? I don’t. So I tell him family emergency and call it a night, but he won’t let it go and he gets mad at me. He calls me and yells at me about why can’t I trust him. I’m sobbing, telling him it’s not my place and he’s only getting angrier by the second. 

“Pues si no puedes confiar en mi, pues ya estoy muerto a ti.” 

And that sentence is engrained in my mind. His voice as every syllable leaves his lips are engrained in my mind and it sucks because I still think about it two years and two months later. Two weeks later, It’s Thanksgiving and I’m forgiving him because otherwise, he’s alone. My brother on his side won’t spend it with him, I’m the only one who remembers we have a father. I guess I hold that power. I’m the only one of the two of us that still remembers he’s there. 

So, I’m watching One Day At A Time, watching Elena’s dad go from loving the soul out of his baby girl to almost hating her for her sexuality because he can’t accept it, and I’m scared. Scared that my dad will do or feel the same. Angry, upset, hatred over my sexuality. I mean, I still like boys, I do. But can he see past me liking girls too? I don’t think I could live with that and it scares me. He’s my dad, he’s my everything and I’m scared of what he’ll think. And sometimes, I think about just not coming out to him at all, but I know I’ll regret it if I don’t. I’ll regret not telling him and I’m scared of losing my dad. I know I’m his baby, he spoils me and that’s not why I love him, but he makes it known he loves me.

I don’t know. I’m in my feelings and coming out to my father is a scary thought. And these shows really triggered me in ways I was not expecting. They’re so great though and I can’t get enough.