#vagueposting about my dad i guess

[etherealspacejelly]

i hate when you're angry about something and the person you're talking to is like. not matching the energy

stop making me feel guilty for being mad. stop making me feel like im being too much. i want to rant about a thing thats Pissing Me Off without feeling weird and awkward about it. makes me feel like im not allowed to be angry. it fucking sucks

[succulent-pott]

getting a flashback to a funny childhood story only to realize oh! That was just bullying.

[syncopein3d]

CW: discussion of a real life death / loss of a parent

Hey, whump community! I know I haven't been around as much lately, and I'm sorry to the person who tagged me in a game recently and I didn't reply. I'm pretty new around here compared to many of you, but I have a few followers now, so I thought I'd do a small update. This is about some difficult personal stuff, so you don't have to read this, I just thought I should maybe explain because I hate it when people vaguepost about how they're doing poorly and I don't want to be that person. Just know that I appreciate you all and whump has helped get me through a bad time.

I've mentioned at least once that we lost my Dad in July '24. He collapsed at home on the bedroom floor. I did compressions until the EMTs came and took over, and he died at the hospital. All our lives revolved around his medical and personal care for years before that. Me and Mom and my sibs are still trying to build a new life for ourselves. I'm mostly over the nightmares from that specific night, the guilt that I wasn't better at cpr, and the worst emotional fallout, but none of us will be "normal" for a long time. I am not young, but you're never really ready for something like this. Sometimes even people whose parents are awful still aren't. Dad, while our relationship was complicated (I've never been out to him about being agender, I think he guessed I was ace), was part of my life consistently for pretty much all of it to date.

I will not share the details, but things were pretty awful in the hours before it became clear he wasn't going to wake up and we had his ventilator removed. All of us were in the room with him right up to the end.

After a bunch of connected bits I wrote proved ineligible for a big event and I'd written over 30k words, I really wanted to turn them into a novel about this modern supernatural clinic for vampires, witches and hunters (set in the Trifold Balance universe my Jack Ford one shot is in and also the now very long Left Alone). Obviously, I haven't finished it. I just couldn't put myself into a medical environment for a while, even a very fictionalized modern fantasy one. I've been writing drabbles and short pieces off and on, and interacting sporadically with other people's work.

My bigger regency-era fantasy wip, closer to 200k words now, also was untouched for months apart from basic edits, because I just didn't have the mental energy to write. Yesterday I wrote another 1200 words on it for the first time in ages. I finally have some hope for being able to finish this thing and maybe, just maybe, eventually the other one, too.

I have all of you to thank for that, because all of your prompts and bits and stories helped keep bringing me back to what I love about writing. I'm still 17 lbs heavier than before the funeral (down from 20), I have psoriatic plaques on my face when I never have before, and I still sleep slightly worse than before it happened. If I hear anything like a thud in the house I still run there in a panic. But things are slowly improving for me as they do for all of us. And this place is where I can go away from the part of myself that isn't better yet.

I'll go back to just the fun parts after this, I promise, but thank you. We hardly know each other, but I appreciate you and your writing and reading and comments so, so much. None of us is normal here, but I've always felt at home.

[yuseirra]

vagueposting about onk 163~~~~ no real spoilers about the content!!! but I'll keep it under a read more still

good news is, I will still be able to draw hikaai till next week, I survived yet another week again~

If the rest of the remaining chapters are like this, they will never be able to handle the themes this work handles in good depth. There simply isn't enough space left, 4 chapters were the boundary/margin for me to imagine things could be wrapped up in a somewhat sufficient manner, this work tackles things that are quite serious and big and deserve good room for discussion-

It can't do that this way. Moreover, the direction of the writing feels so off to me. I don't agree with what it's trying to make of or convince me of... I'm too distracted of what's been happening in the other parts of the plot to resonate with it. I didn't come here to see Aqua trying to strangle his dad and...feel nothing much over it. It doesn't click to me as what's right, but maybe I read the work wrong, then it's on me... but I really didn't like seeing that scene!! It was terrifying and cruel!! and ugly!!! I don't like seeing people trying to kill each other and weren't they BOTH the victims in that case? Didn't they both care deeply for Ai and got traumatized because of it? Why did they end up trying to hurt each other like that? I felt there's some greater evil behind it all never being tackled at, blaming and killing one individual over it(and he REALLY DIDN'T DO ANYTHING YET!!!) is such a convenient and easy way out as well as it being...unable to resolve anything, wasn't Kamiki really right about that? Killing someone as helpless as he is wouldn't solve anything? He didn't say anything so wrong!!! I actually agree with him on that one.

I think it'd be better/best if they devote everything that's left to Ruby and Aqua in this case and just leave AI and her bf be and don't touch them at all if they're going to handle things like this...it's not going to work out.

I'd rather they do a deliberate, amazing job with two characters with depths than do mediocre-janky with many... I would have had my faith if there were like 8 remaining chapters but with only 3 now, no, it's impossible, the writers are such capable people and they can make wonders, I appreciate what they do and have done but I don't see it happening. In that case, I rather they just leave things be, then at least there'd be some room for me to try and make sense out of what's there than having something half-baked and unfulfilling as a resolution. They can still make Aqua and Ruby work, but with more characters being thrown into the picture? Oh..; If they were ever going to bring Ai and Hikaru in depth they need at least two at a minimum, but there is no way they'd have enough chapter space left to give them a proper chance

Ah, I can live another week to draw more hikaai UGH, UGHH.. I guess I am relieved to an extent since yet again, nothing important has been brought forth, nothing is explained, there wasn't ANYTHING new, if they're going to make the rest of the chapters like this one too, then I never thought I could say this but I feel I can write that ship better. They gave us a really good ingredient to cook with, so I can cook out a good meal, now what I want is for the ingredients to.. remain fresh or at least at a status quo. These characters deserve to be given a more.. proper discussion and space dedicated to them, I just don't see why the writers wouldn't choose to do it because it'd be wonderful if they did...

If things stay the way they are, I can still manage, I can still draw lots of fanarts! If it gets worse than this, then I'd have a hard time, if somehow, like a miracle, something really great can happen about them(I'm still not letting this hope go entirely because Ai is such an iconic character) it'd be great!

Not..a bad chapter but to have this be the one that takes up an entire chapter when there are only like 4 left...I felt so unimpressed... could have been okay as a standalone but even still, I don't agree with the sentiment it's trying to convince me of. Yes Aqua, you are a fool. A big dummy. Now go back to Ruby and live. This manga will definitely flunk if you die. I'm not worried about your life's sake at all because you're the main character and you won't die. You go and live a happy life pal, you can do it, go confess to Kana too because god you've been holding out so long with that and it's going to get stale

Your dad doesn't have the luxury to have even his story discussed adequately and I'm concerned about him, I would never make that choice as a writer, so I want to believe the two really good creators responsible for this to do it but there seriously isn't any space left for that to be a reality, if they're going to not handle it with care, then I rather they just leave it be as it is. I just don't see it being left as it is either but... that might be better for his sake, oh, they're not giving him and Ai justice rn. They should, but there's just too little space left. In that case, they should prioritize wrapping Ruby and Aqua's story at least.

[intriga-hounds]

hey so apparently someone was vagueposting about me and it’s a bit whacky bc it’s not someone i would’ve guessed but i just wanted to lay some things out.

this person seemed to believe that i was just throwing my problematic dog (baz) on a family member and replacing him with a new puppy.

i figure if they think that, other people must think that. so i just want to be clear on some things:

I love Baz with my whole heart. He will still be under my roof.

I still pay all of his bills currently. In just the last week alone, I have paid for a $200 consultation at a new rehab vet (not covered by insurance) and took him to his second session at the chiropractor (covered). Soon I need to reorder all of his supplements and Adequan (mostly not covered). I explicitly told my sister, “I will not give you a broken dog.”

My dad and sister BOTH ASKED ME if they could have him. I chose my sister because I knew he would be in my house and I could still give him the many, many, MANY things he requires. Also Beau bullies him.

I do conditioning exercises with him daily. He has a weak back and loin, which is part of why he gets injured. Now that he’s not in pain anymore (at his appt in March, he was literally too painful to exercise), we can FINALLY get him beefed up after a YEAR of rehab. He has done it all: acupuncture, laser therapy, electromagnetic therapy, massage therapy, craniosacral massage, chiropractor, AND MORE. I took him to every single appointment and paid for it.

I have spent literally thousands of dollars on this dog trying to heal him, both mentally and physically. I don’t plan on stopping. In fact, yesterday I got a referral for a local behaviorist from a friend that I plan to contact today.

I still take him to events and outings to work on his confidence. He was at the specialty yesterday and got to run DASH. Earlier this week, he went to the dog beach.

I had planned on a puppy from Olive’s litter LONG BEFORE I gave Baz up. I’ve been waiting 8 months for these puppies to be born. I let my sister start sleeping with Baz at night about 1 month ago.

I have made it expressly clear to my sister that if he ever feels like a burden, she is beholden to nothing and my door is always open to him. It helps that my door is right down the hall.

When Baz’s application for acceptance into the breed is accepted, he WILL be brought out to events, personally by me, that are appropriate for him.

This text to my family yesterday sums it up:

Baz is a mess, but I love him anyway. I wouldn’t trade him for all the ribbons in the world. Milo is lovely, but he’s not our Bazzlebean.

Do I get frustrated with Baz to the point of tears? Yes. Do I wish his temperament was different? Yes. But I also take responsibility for him and he will be adored and snuggled for ever and ever.

Yesterday, two people at the show blamed me for Baz’s temperament issues, even though others in the litter are also shaky. It’s nothing new; these people don’t know how hard I’ve worked or how much I care.

The person who posted about me blocked me, so I guess she will never know just how much I love Baz.

But she can also go fuck herself.

[whumpster-fire]

It may be my cynicism and my baggage showing, but I’m getting really, really sick of media aimed at kids and teens - movies, TV shows, books, whatever - treating a child not respecting their parent and a parent not respecting their child like they’re equivalent and equal offenses and totally ignoring the power dynamics involved.

And what I mean by this is shit like a Family Movie where a parent and child don’t respect one another’s hobbies and interests. Except what this actually means is:

Child: doesn’t want to participate in the parents’ hobbies and is visibly unhappy during mandatory “bonding activities,” and maybe calls the parents lame and uncool old fogies once in a while.

Parent is emotionally unsupportive of the child’s major passion in life, constantly belittles and harasses them over it, coerces them into “bonding activities” that consist of doing what the parent wants to do even if the child hates it, and forbids the child from participating in their interest / hobby, sabotages them, destroys their valuable and sentimentally important possessions, or just creates an unspoken threat of doing this by being openly hostile towards the child’s interests and always has the power to do the things mentioned above.

And then the movie ends with this conflict being resolved by “I guess we both needed to learn to understand each other more.”

(And yes I am vagueposting about The Mitchells vs The Machines, and other films as well)

No, it doesn’t fucking work like that. You can’t just go “Uh well both sides are wrong” because the amount of harm the two sides are capable of causing each other is not even remotely comparable. Even leaving aside the “If you won’t treat me like an authority I won’t treat you like a person” crap a child does not have the ability to stop a parent from having a hobby they disapprove of.

A child can’t get away with selling their dad’s golf clubs or fishing poles, or digging up their parents’ garden (not without getting in serious fucking trouble) because they don’t like how their parents are choosing to spend their free time. A child cannot ban their parent from playing a sport they don’t like. A child cannot dictate how their parents spend their money. A child cannot bar their parent from getting a job so they have money that isn’t under the child’s direct control. A child cannot threaten to withhold financial support and kick them out of their home. A parent? Can legally do that. (And if the story’s set in the past or not in certain locations also can legally physically assault them to force compliance)

So no, guess what, when the conflict is between a parent who’s resorting to controlling, abusive or borderline abusive behavior to force their child to like their hobbies because their feelings are hurt over their kid turning out to be a different person from them, and a child who’s just trying to be allowed to be who they are, a “Well, both sides should be more open minded about each other’s interests” ending is bullshit. And it makes me feel physically sick thinking about children who are going through this shit in real life seeing movies like that and thinking they deserve it for not being enthusiastic enough about the Mandatory Fun Bonding Time or whatever.

I’d really love to see a “family-friendly” movie just take the fucking gloves off and go “Kids, it is not your fucking responsibility to appease your asshole parents by ‘seeing their side.’ Parents, shape the fuck up and treat your kid like a human being, because you can’t fix years of trauma and resentment with a few apologies and band-aid concessions, and they’re under no obligation to try to mend a relationship with someone who treats them like shit.” But the parents who need to hear that message would probably just ban their kids from watching it.

(And by the way, How to Train Your Dragon is not in this category - while there’s some things to criticize about Stoick and Hiccup’s relationship being magically fixed as quickly as it was, Stoick was straight up the villain / main antagonist of the first film. I’m talking about like if they went “Oh well Stoick needs to respect his son’s passion for engineering and empathy for dragons, but Hiccup really should work out more and be more of a warrior, so let’s call it even.”)

[spikehunter]

*flashes my Gay on Tumblr punch card which declares that having seen 10 bad posts in the last 21 days i am allowed to be real deep on main with no consequences* anyway

c*s m*n will really be like “give me music recs” and then not listen to whatever you send them and then like three months later be like “wow this is actually good”? ? yeah bitch i knew! its cause i dont get all my taste in music from my dad!! like hashtag dead dad privilege i guess but christ pwease listen to something that isnt the clash / the beatles / related white european men on really loud drums talkin about how they hate women. c*s m*n listen to beck - loser and be like damn im really going off the rails with this one... additionally like sorry to vaguepost but my ex constantly posts either holland 1945 or brave as a noun on his instagram story with sadboy captions about how much he hates his mother. good job you remembered two songs i liked, im not getting back together with you, go to therapy

[memegoat]

the last week

got my first covid vaccine dose and didn't tell my mother ahead of time because i knew her qanon-believing ass would lose it

she attempted to guilt-trip me out of it by crying and saying she was only looking out for my safety etc etc

got back from the shot for her to come in and guilt trip me again that "i can never take this back" etc etc

screaming match between my parents with my mother accusing my dad of almost killing me because apparently i don't have a brain of my own and he's manipulating me into getting the covid vaccine because he's "biased" because his mother died of covid a month ago

called me disgusting for getting the vaccine and she looks at me like i'm a leper now

she basically ignored me for two days

my grandpa called the house and she had to take the call outside so i wouldn't hear her tell him all about me and my dad "disrespecting" her

comes in on thursday and tells me she's "leaving for idaho" (to my grandpa's) in the morning and doesn't tell me why, just goes off about how i "hurt" her that i didn't think i could come to her and discuss if i should get the covid shot even though i'm 23 years old (?) and that we "couldn't have an adult to adult conversation", and that "if i knew what she knew i wouldn't have gotten the shot"

didn't even say bye to either of us just texted my dad while he was out of the house that she was leaving and dipped

is vagueposting about me on facebook that i "shit talk her behind her back" and "have no idea what's going on in the world"

started using the camera in the house to spy on us/listen in on my dad and i's conversations, repeatedly (thinks she's being discreet. is not)

absolutely no contact from her whatsoever since she left

is probably going to divorce my dad over this if she ever comes back so i guess my parent's divorce after 25 years of marriage is all on me :)

[soras-majestic-butt]

alright tumblr i know i vaguepost a lot about life and how i wanna forcefully eject myself off the nearest mountain peak but i never really try to go into details but tonight I AM FEELING EXCEPTIONALLY BITCHY (sorry mobile users)

i. am very stressed. about a great number of things. i have no job, i have no education, i can’t afford an education, my family is falling apart and i feel like i’m having to take sides. i can’t even say that i have my health because i have constant back issues now thanks to my previous job (even though i can’t prove it was them so go off i guess). i’m having to move out of my apartment and go back to my parents’ house to get my medical debt lowered and credit score improved before trying to find a new place to live. (cuz good luck finding an apartment that will rent to you when you got a less than 850 score...)

i have no will or motivation to get out of bed most days. any positive emotion is fleeting at best and most of the time i just feel listless. this is the longest period of depression i’ve ever had and i honestly don’t know if it will lift. my exec dysfunction is at all time high and guilt eats at me every day bc i feel like an ungrateful undeserving festering pile of human waste.

i haven’t attempted to draw anything substantial in months. people are constantly asking me when i’m gonna draw again and it makes me want to break down crying because i don’t know!!! stop asking me!!! i feel bad enough for not drawing as it is!!! i dont need daily reminders that i’m a failure piece of shit okay!!

i feel isolated and lonely even when i’m talking to friends and people. i feel like i’ve fallen down a well in a busy town square and no one can hear me calling for help. just when i think i’m making progress climbing out of the well, i slip and fall back in.

my constant mantra is “what’s the point?”

i’m sick of trying to be nice and kind and courteous, especially to my family. i get lied to, walked on, used and manipulated... i let my brother stay with me last year and he crashed MY CAR (leading me further into debt since insurance only paid off half what i owed thanks bro) and now continuously disrespects me; bringing people over at all hours of the day and night without asking, doesn’t clean up after himself, won’t contribute, wont do anything i ask... he fucking let his friend take MY laptop home with him and I AM SO PISSED OFF ABOUT IT I COULD CRY AND SCREAM. 

“but jess why dont you just kick him out?” astute observation! because i have the confrontational capacity of an orangutan’s toenail. a lifetime of growing up with an alcoholic dad has rendered me unable to stand up for myself, as i shut down as soon as anyone starts yelling at me! i hate it! :D

i feel like a failure because i’ll be thirty this year and i don’t have a partner, don’t have kids (or anything to show for having a lack of kids), haven’t met any of my goals in life, only have an 11 year old GED and no college experience for jobs... what’s the point? what’s the fucking point??

and like. ive internalized so much of this and feel so fucking stupid and weak for bitching about any of this on a website.. i feel like i’m 14 again bitching about my life’s issues before i even realized what adult issues even were.

alright i’m done. i guess i just needed to get this off my chest. if you read this far, congrats. i don’t want sympathy messages and lots of “there there”s or anything, this is strictly just.. venting.

[dangerous-disposition]

like this isn’t a vague at anyone rly bc i see this a lot so pls pls pls do not take this as a vaguepost i’m not even mad, just tired i guess?

but like in ffxv it doesn’t matter how much of a time jump happens between altissia and the train scene like......grieving isn’t something you can just turn off. like MAYBE if there was a YEAR between the battle and the train, i can see SOME of gladio’s frustration but i mean.....it’s like two weeks.

if someone told me two weeks after my dad died in front of me to get over it, i would probably have stabbed them in the throat, no matter the context or stakes but like

idk that’s my personal opinion as someone experiencing grief.

like this is a game where noctis is given zero time or room to process his grief, first about his father, then about luna, and then about ignis being gravely injured on his behalf.

and in one scene gladio literally throws ALL OF THAT in his face.

and like, i’m sorry guys that’s AT THE VERY LEAST super toxic to do to someone who’s grieving, if not outright abusive.

and idk maybe i’m projecting on the game too much bc it was a major coping mechanism for me while my dad was dying, and i feel rly connected to Noct in his despondency after Altissia and like i said, if anyone had told me to get over it that soon after i had lost my dad, i would have cut them out of my life so fast. like idk.

i’m coming at this from the point of view of someone grieving a loss and what gladio did.........was fucked up. regardless of the situation.

and even ASIDE FROM THAT like, his comments about iggy that entire chapter are DISGUSTING and his constant yelling and passive aggressive sniping at Noctis is AWFUL. Again, AT BEST, toxic.

[accidental-memory]

Vagueposting time I guess.

I had a female friend, who I have known for a long time. You will not learn her identity from me beyond this; that'd be shitty. This post is long.

JULY We had not spoken much in a long time, and it had been even longer since we'd seen each other in person. She was sending me photos of where she lives now (which, where she lives now is awesome), and I was gushing about how beautiful the scenery is. Then I asked: Me: "with apologies, would it be weird to ask if I could see your face?"

Her: "No but it's not great!" And then she sends a single photo of her face.

Our conversation continued for awhile after she sent the selfie. I thought nothing more of it.

AUGUST We have another conversation. She stops the conversation to say the following:

Her: "I just have to stop for a second and tell u. I like talking to you, as a friend. But my husband did get mad when sent you a picture and I do have to make sure u understand I’m happily married and just feel like [[context of how we know each other]] and we have that bond of all having that same ridiculous experience, I feel bonded to them. But u have to understand that this is fully platonic and I can never send another picture or anything like that."

Okay. This as you can see is her setting a boundary. That's fine; great, even! More people should be that open about their boundaries!

But also, I want you to notice the part where she says her husband *got mad* that she sent me a picture of her face. This raised some red flags for me, and I wanted to make sure she was okay:

Me: "Like.. 'that picture' was just you chilling at your house; I wasn't trying to read anything into it. Past experiences aside, frankly, it's just nice to see a friend. That said, I find it alarming when people don't let their significant others be a person with other people if they're the gender their partner would otherwise be interested in; and I feel dutybound to say that out loud."

Her: "No I def know that and so I don’t think we are inappropriate at all but later when I thought about 'how would I feel if he had done that?' I realized I wouldn’t have liked it either. I’m allowed to talk to and do what i want, which is why I do, but I also think feelings are valid. I don’t at all judge other people’s lifestyles. If they are polyamorous, anything people want to do between consenting adults that’s not exploitative I am completely fine with. But I entered into a traditional marriage with eyes wide open to what I was doing and so I did need to clear that up before I kept talking to you."

Me: "<3 understood"

I feel like this was a very good, productive moment. But I want to know... did I miss something? This sounds like a perfectly reasonable adult conversation to me. I let her know that what she had just said was concerning to me. She told me not to be worried. So I said I understood. The boundary is thus set, and we can move on with our lives and continue being friends, yes?

SEPTEMBER: I send her a wild story from the Riverfront Times. She responds that I should keep an eye out for another story that she is interested in. Talked for a few minutes, went on our ways.

OCTOBER: I mention I went and looked around to see if I could find details on the news story she wanted me to look out for, and shared what I'd found; but it wasn't related to what she was trying to find. Talked for a few minutes, went on our ways.

JANUARY: I send her a couple of funny photos of a frog, and a link to my New Years Cabin photo album. She does not respond.

FEBRUARY: I tell her about a shitty thing my dad emailed me lionizing Clarence Thomas. She does not respond.

APRIL: I show her a couple of photos of a bizarre stuffed-dog-pillow that was left in a basket outside the laundromat just as the pandemic was hitting. She responds: "Put it on [[facebook group for weird stuff]] !"

MAY: I send her a funny webcomic. She does not respond.

YESTERDAY: I send her a message telling her about how I've spent the last 30 minutes bawling my eyes out because I watched the collage of police violence in the latest Some More News episode about the riots: "my nerves are fuckin' frayed. I'm so angry. And the only thing I can do is talk about it."

TODAY: She responds: " Adam I don’t know how to be more clear after essentially ignoring your messages for months. So I’ll be blunt. Women in general, and me in particular, are not on the planet to emotionally labor for you. It sounds like you need a therapist. I’m guessing you will say you can’t afford one but that doesn’t oblige me to do it for free.

After I placed a boundary with you, received a lecture about how I’m in an unhealthy relationship because it has boundaries, realized you’re just another male who is going to be mad and throw a fit when he doesn’t get what he wants from a woman, I honestly lost interest in talking to you altogether. So if you were under the impression I’m a bird in a cage not being allowed to, that’s false. I got nothing out of sending you a photograph, aside from avoiding the discomfort at having to say “no.” It wasn’t something I’m over here DYING to do until my Neanderthal husband said “no way!!!” Your reaction to a normal boundary threw up a thousand red flags for me and I don’t want to talk to you anymore.

We are all sick over what’s happening in the US right now. I’m sure you can find someone else to discuss this with. "

...................What did I miss? Like, genuinely, if I'm in the wrong about something here, tell me. I don't understand what brought this on!

Stop reading here if you don't want my opinions or interpretations or any of my expounded confusions.

I don't want to sit here and tell you how to feel about this message to me. You can make up your own mind. But I'm going to express how I feel about this.

1. We talked intermittently for years. Not responding to me is no indication that you're ignoring me; it means you're busy. Plenty of other friends of mine have that kind of communication style.

2. We had lengthy conversations between me stating my concerns and this moment. We had intermittent conversations too. How would this have ever been an indication that you were upset?

3. Fucking... you were my friend! I wanted to talk to my FRIEND about a hard time I was having, and now I'm literally having chest pains because I'm being accused of... what? Being manipulative?

4. What do you say in response to being called manipulative? Cuz like. Anything I say is immediately going to be called manipulative! That's infuriating!

5. I didn't say your husband was a Neanderthal. I said that what you said was concerning. I don't even know the guy! In fact, that's part of why it's concerning; if the only thing I know about him is that he GOT MAD AT YOU FOR SENDING SOMEONE A PHOTO, then yeah I think I'm absolutely in the right to make sure that you're not in a fucking abusive relationship! I've had friends in abusive relationships before and that's exactly the shit they'd say to me. It's not an accusation; it's an invitation for help if the situation is actually bad, which you said it isn't, and I took your word for, said as much, and never brought it up again.

6. What do you mean, "angry that I'm not doing what you want?" I know of precisely two things I've ever asked of her in my entire life: that one single photo of her face for which I had no intention of asking another, and advice as to how to get makeup out of your clothes (I still have no idea why there was makeup in my pants leg, either).

7. I did not have an "impression" of you being "a bird locked in a cage." You said something alarming, and I confirmed with you that it was actually fine, and that was all it ever had to be!

I don't know what else to say on the matter. My heart hurts. I saw this message pop up while I was in the middle of a tutoring session. I was like, "Oh, she responded! I hope we can commiserate for a moment so I can feel like this is even remotely normal ....... Oh. ....oh, what??"

I'm absolutely certain someone on my timeline knows even from any of this who I am talking about; she may have even talked to them about it. I'm not really interested in the gossip. I'm not even looking for advice. She's blocked me; the friendship is over, however much that hurts to say. But like. If you have actual fucking light to shed on it, that'd be nice. But also. Not right now.

I don't want to talk to anyone right now. I had to hold it together through several hours of tutoring. I'm fucking hurt and I need some time to heal.

[boba-t-butch]

ive let more people i know irl follow me here so i try not to get into too much detail about my family situation. and ive recently realized a big part of that was conditioning from my parents where they trained me not to tell people abt stuff at home but that's probably to protect themselves from looking like the shit parents they are.

so anyway ima just write this out and i guess i'll delete later if i feel too exposed but its irritating to keep vagueposting or holding myself back on my own blog. also if you know me irl idc if u wanna talk to me abt this id be fine with it. but like dont treat me with delicacy or pity cuz i fukn hate that.

so my dad has bipolar disorder and he's been arrested/ hospitalized for it multiple times throughout my life because he doesnt like staying medicated. he was off his meds for a while and became unemployed almost as a direct result. when i went home over winter break, i recognized that he was becoming more emotionally volatile and was nearing a manic episode.

i understand how medication for bipolar disorder can negatively impact a person's quality of life and i recognize that my dad has the autonomy to choose whether or not to be medicated. but i also feel that when he is unmedicated, he cannot fulfill his responsibilities to me (and my 14 year old sister) as a father. and now that i'm an adult, i also have the autonomy to choose the relationships i maintain in my life. so i decided, even while i was home over winter break, to stop speaking to my dad if he was going to be off his medication.

the subsequent semester, i did not keep in contact with my family and managed to find a way to stay at my college campus over the summer so i wouldn't need to go home. my older sister is an ex-military republican redneck married to a white trump supporter, my little sister is p chill but she used to pass on any info of my life she could find to my parents, and my mom is an extremely emotionally manipulative/abusive alien conspiracy theorist bible thumper. so i just kinda don't keep in touch with any of them if i can help it.

this summer, my dad went manic and intentionally smashed his pickup truck into another car that had people in it. he put his car in reverse and smashed into them again twice. he'd gotten into an argument with my sister and wanted to show her what she made him do by not listening to him/ disrespecting him.

he was arrested for criminal mischief, criminal assault, and assault with a deadly weapon. at this point, i reached out to my other family members to express support and concern. this kind of thing has happened before, we all saw it coming, we all know if he doesn't take meds it's just a matter of time before it happens again.

i encouraged my mom to divorce my dad and take a portion of his assets (bc she has no education and no source of income) so that she can take my little sister somewhere safe and raise her in a stable environment. i told my older sister she doesnt owe it to him to do him any favors when he's knowingly disrupted her life so much. she currently has a newborn child at home with health complications to worry about as well, so it's not her responsibility to clean up his mess, even if he is mentally ill.

instead, my sister convinced a judge to drop all of my dads charges, send him home to my mom and sister, and his main consequence is just that he's court-mandated to take his medication for a few years (i have no clue how). my mom says she owes him too much so she's staying with him and even leaves him home alone extensively with my younger sister. he has continued to take everything my older sister and mom do for him for granted, even continuing to accuse them for making him go manic by not understanding him enough.

i have continued to refuse contact with my dad, though i'm trying to be there for my little sister more. my older sister and i are trying to navigate how to have a relationship as well. my mom though... my mom is now trying to use me as an emotional crutch because i express sympathy for her bc i know she's in a tough situation. but i also feel like she's neglecting her duty as a mother by not protecting my sister more and that she shouldn't be coming to me for this support when she's been a terrible mother to me. lately she sought reassurance from me because she was feeling worthless and depressed and i havent responded at all, which makes me feel cruel and guilty. but i also refuse to play that role for her.

there's a lot of other random shit happening in my life rn too but honestly im too tired to deal with any of it. im too tired to try to navigate complex interpersonal relationships that hardly matter when im already trying so hard to figure out my family situation.

[karanan]

I had a good time up north in Ostrobothnia, good food, good company (mostly).

Some less fun shit: Dad went to an online message board to shitpost about being disappointed in me after our FB argument, which is hilarious because clearly I got to him. He also vagueposted on FB about me, spewing rather fascist-sounding garbage and patting himself on the back for standing up to... people saying white privilege (or just privilege in general) is a thing I guess. To be fair, dear father, I’m shitposting about you too. Talked to mum and she apparently told dad (on the same message board) that maybe today’s youth have better things to do than argue with their dads on FB all day on Midsummer’s Eve. I’d be happy she had my back if my bro and I didn’t then enter an argument with her about the same goddamn thing and she got really dang defensive about it. Ironic considering what she said she wrote to dad. Fun times when she denied her straight/cis privilege to her bisexual trans son’s face, so that hurt a whole fuck of a lot. She’s also deciding to stay with her terrible husband despite the damage he’s done and like that’s fine, she’s an adult, but it means I’m going to keep her at arm’s length for the rest of my/her/his life I guess. I used to be sad for her because she deserves better but it seems she really made her choice and it feels like I lost something.

TL;DR: my friends are the best and I love them dearly. My parents are liberal trash. They just do not get the point no matter how simple you try to make it. They raised us to think independently, so joke’s on them. Thank fuck I haven’t lived with or had a lot of contact with either of them since I was 19.

WTB new parents

[teambfalcon]

I am happy. Sometimes my brain forgets that. But then I watch shows with lots of drama and tragedy and I remember how good my life is.

Unfortunately, I have Obsessive Love Disorder. I am neurologically addicted to love. Until recently I had looked at addiction as something that only happened to people who did avoidable things, like drugs and alcohol. I guess this was sort of my comeuppance for that.

I have been engaged seven times and handfasted twice. In between those disastrous relationships, my life has been a series of flings and, well, pining after someone I can't have. The pining started when I was seven. The actual, physical heart troubles started when I was 20. Then came respiratory problems.

There's a lot I could blame. My dad and grandma for telling me what men want (I was AFAB and present as femme unless my brain is actively screaming at me not to) and expecting me to live up to it, and for instilling me with the idea that because I was born different, it'll be harder for someone to love me. My failure to develop proper eating and exercise habits. My brain for not letting me just ACT LIKE A NORMAL FUCKING PERSON in social situations and scaring everyone away. Everyone for leaving me and giving me all these trust issues.

But blame isn't really productive, and I wasn't raised to be a quitter. Well... The way I was raised was actually highly problematic, but you'll get to know that as you get to know me. But anyway, nowadays I just kind of drift along in relationships, taking it as far as the other person wants to. I can't be celibate because I don't want them to hate me and leave. I can't ask questions or inquire about labels because I don't want them to get defensive or think I'm clingy. (I am, by the way. Super clingy. My ex-husband's dad nicknamed me "Crazy Bitch", which is super creative because it's not like people haven't been calling me that all my life 😂😂) So I just float along and hope "this one will call me again, this one will come back," while holding onto an obsession over someone else as a safety net.

Because if I'm "in love" with someone else, I won't get attached or be clingy or any of those things that "men don't like". And if I start randomly shaking and crying on the bus, out of nowhere, because my asshole brain reminded me of my last ex-boyfriend who convinced me to leave my emotionally abusive husband and then strung me along and then blocked my friends, stopped talking to me, and unfriended me on social media without a word when I began to lean on him, it's OKAY because think of how much worse it could be. I've got a home and a job and a roof over my head and access to a variety of food I actually like and a shower I can use anytime I want, unlike when I was married. And I don't have a missing son or violent stalker or any of that TV drama stuff (which I realise happens IRL but, leave me alone, I'm ranting).

My life is SO GOOD and I'm SO LUCKY and I have the BEST BOSS & COWORKERS & SIBLING and i have mediocre talent at a variety of things (which I'm told is better than being the best in THE WORLD at one thing and sucking at everything else).

but I have the WORST taste in men, and because of the way my brain is, I can't stop obsessing for very long. I'm taking a break from Facebook for a while because watching my current crush and his ex-wife vaguepost nastily about me pushed me to an off-schedule suicidal ideation (usually ideations happen every couple of weeks or so), and my so-called """friends""" are either "too busy" or "uncomfortable" because of who the subject of my current obsession IS and the fact that no matter how much his former stepdaughter tries to deter me, everything she says about him just reminds me of me when I was 15 and I have no one to really talk to because everyone has stuff going on and my sibling is the most kind and supportive person EVER but she also has stuff going on and i feel guilty because I haven't been able to switch gears and take a real interest.

I should be happy, but I'm miserable. I have a distinct responsibility NOT to die because of all the projects and my boss depends on me, she practices special needs law and that's a niche in my locale, and the firm is SO small and it takes SO much time to train a new person and plus, I'm like 90% sure I'm her pet autistic.

and then there's the show sibling and I are working on. I can't just quit life and leave all the work for her. She would probably be too upset to even touch it and then that's years of planning and personal catharsis and social education gone to waste. Then there's the crafts -- I made a promise and I can't break it and i *will* get these items to the people i promised--

but if I didn't have such a high sense of responsibility and fear of failure even beyond the grave, I would have given in by now. Actually, I've tried. I'm not very good at dying. I guess it's okay to be bad at some stuff, though

even if James and Kristina would be 9001% celebrating getting me out of their hair forever with my pesky fun facts and political opinions (which are in line with their beliefs but a little better informed) and my habit of talking too much

anyway the point is, I'm happy, now if only my brain could remember.

[teenagerwithinternet]

hey, its time to do this again

a lot has happened. im 18, compared to the 14 (13?) year old i was when i started this.

shit. im gonna have to change the name since im not going to be a teen in two years.

oh well.

i matched with this one girl on my school i had been eyeing on tinder some time ago. talked a bit on tinder, she added me on facebook to continue with it on messenger instead. we talked a bit there, i think i had a good impression, but she ghosted me. i wasnt really that invested in it so i was like okay, i ghost people for no reason but "i dont feel like it" all the time.

second time rolls around, a month ago i'd say. we match on tinder again, and i really didnt want it to end like the previous time so i just immediately hit her with "pizza at my place + some vinyls next sat?" and she was really optimistic about it, told me that she looked forward to it etc etc etc

the date went incredibly well. i feel like we hit off well, again. at this point id gotten pretty invested in it, daydreamed about what we were going to do next, how i would proceed, how i wouldnt fuck it up and learn from my past mistakes. our plans for a graveyard date were cancelled since she was hospitalized (felt too private to ask why, but she said she would be perfectly 100% fine). she gets out of her 3 day visit and then

silence

i dont know why this affected me so much. we met once. we talked very little since she, in her own words, is terrible at answering. it really shouldn'tve. but yet im sitting here all melancholic after crying a bit.

i've also been thinking about sex a lot lately and how it fucks me up. (one thing i probably havent mentioned is that im incredibly uncomfortable with my biological sex, but not quite comfortable as a girl either. so i guess im non binary). i love sex, i am in great terms with my sexuality, my kinks, my dos and donts, but as soon as i imagine myself there, i get appalled. there is quite nothing as disgusting as the thought of me penetrating someone with my parts, something in addition to the regular turning away mirrors when showering, tucking it in to hide my bulge etc.

despite that, i am quite happy with where i am right now. i present as pretty androgynous as i presently am, something i am very content with. what worries me is the recent thought that, without any intervention, i will grow into an old mans body. i will become my 7 year older brother, or my dad, and i will not be able to be who i want to be.

so i thought that i need to get some therapy sooner or later. i dont know where to start, just somewhere.

oh, and im going to a halloween party with the girl this friday. i've decided to respect her decision and not approach her (but im open to the idea of talking to her there again).

she has also followed my main tumblr for over a year without knowing me funnily enough. on her tumblr however, there have been a lot of "boys are a fuck" vagueposts which might be the reason or whatever. i dont really want to care (even though i do).

see ya in a year

[pisati]

it’s always such a relief to come home after having to spend time with family. I’m just straight back in the door, shoes off, straight upstairs, back into pajamas. sometimes I’ll just sit on the floor and take a minute to appreciate the quiet. 

it wasn’t all that bad today, just really uncomfortable. mom’s boyfriend came with us to grandma’s and he’s really good about my family being so nuts. at least he doesn’t have to deal with them much.

I was glad there were things there that I would eat. it was a very small menu but I didn’t need to special order anything; almost everything was something I’d eat. for once. french toast with various toppings, bagels, potatoes, vegan sausage and eggs and whatnot.. yeah. it’s nice to be able to feel semi-normal about food. despite getting asked if I was sure I didn’t want sausage, because it wasn’t actually meat since it was vegan... it’s meant to taste like meat. if I wanted it I’d have asked for it.

mom asked me if I’d take a picture of everyone together and I obliged. she made some comment about how she knew I wouldn’t want to be in it anyway, and I said something along the lines of “thank you for finally accepting that, because I’ve only ever just said no”. she gave me some face. her boyfriend took her phone after and told me to get on over there so he could get a picture of all of us, and I said “nope.” and sat back down. of course the “come onnnn let’s take a picture” followed as it always does, despite mom’s “no, she won’t...”, and I just said “I said no.” I’m used to having to stand my ground much more firmly over pictures so I think he was a little taken aback, but that was that. my aunt, of course: “you know, you used to be in pictures all the time. you used to love it”. yeah, when I was five maybe. people change. 

“your hair’s getting longer.” “yeah, I’m trying to grow it back out.” “good. I like it this way. I didn’t like it so short.” “well, I did.”

and grandma going on about how we’re so beautiful, how she wanted to show off her family to everyone, how she was disappointed that despite being right next to the door where everyone would go in and out she wanted everyone to see how beautiful we are. asking my mom if “the little girl wants any more to eat”, because I’m still 2 years old apparently and only capable of communicating my wants and needs through my mother. I guess I can’t get too upset because she’s always been like this and she’s got a lot of issues, but it’s still annoying to deal with. kind of like my dad. felt wrong to be upset, but it was still really stressful for me.

mom’s boyfriend was asked about his kids and he talked about his two older sons and their jobs and then mentioned his 24-year-old son who’s.. “living at home. playing video games. trying to figure himself out”, he said in a way that indicated he had some feelings about it he didn’t care to share. mom kind of glanced at me, my aunt said something about kids needing to learn how to go out and just work, because some people aren’t lucky enough to be able to live at home and ‘laze around’, and I contributed to that conversation with “well, it’s not always so easy. I’m kind of in that boat right now too; I don’t know what I want. but mom knows I’m not trying to live with her forever, and I just need a little time so I can get my feet under me”. mom smiled and said she knew. some jokes about kicking me out in a few months. “I’m not a bad kid, I just don’t have it all figured out yet.” “I know, sweetie”.

an uneventful car ride home. mom’s new car has a satellite radio trial, and I reminded her of when we’d listen to pearl jam radio in rental cars back in the day; found the station and at least got to listen to that the rest of the way. I don’t remember what else they talked about. tennis maybe.

I didn’t think I’d need a nap until I started crashing. mom snapped at me over the trash I still need to take downstairs; I’ve forgotten a number of times and every time I remember my hands are full. I wonder if she’s ever noticed that I distance myself from her as long as I can every time she snaps at me.

I’ve had a chance lately to read back on some very old blog posts and it was kind of weird to get a glance back into the person I was 8-9 years ago. I didn’t remember a lot of the terms I used for high school-related things; PALS for spanish testing (a word that used to inspire a lot of dread; I’m pretty sure it was oral exams, which I’ve always hated), interims (the grade check-ups we’d get during the quarter between report cards, and we’d have to get them signed by a parent if they were bad), hell, even quarters (the year divided into 4 grading periods). I wrote a lot about my day; school, my frustrations with homework and classwork. some vagueposting about boys I liked; of course. my frustrations about feeling invisible. trying to deal best I could with my mom.

she’d set the internet to time out around 10pm so I’d write blog posts on Notepad and copy/paste them the next day. I read back over a story about one day when she’d gotten super pissed at me for not cleaning my room, and she’d taken my laptop for the weekend. she’d given me “til the end of the day”, but I’ve never been one to start on anything til nighttime, and she was well aware of that by then. I was on my computer and literally about to get up and start cleaning when she came in and started snapping at me. I pointed out that there were still a few hours left in the day, me using midnight as the gauge, and she’d said “well I’m going to bed, so it’s the end of the day”. made me give her my laptop. I wasn’t that upset about it, because it was just for the weekend and at that point I was already used to her taking my things for longer periods, but I was upset enough that I didn’t even bother cleaning. I’d woken up to some noises, and rolled over to find her in my room, digging around in the clutter on my desk. she was apparently looking for “her ipod” (the ipod dad found in a car at work that nobody claimed, but mom claimed it as hers once he gave it to us). I don’t remember the exact things she called me that time from that particular post, but across posts “obnoxious” “lazy” “stupid” and “bitch” featured, so I’m sure a few of those came up. I think she may have even told me she was keeping my laptop for a week, which upset me more because I had classwork I needed to do. after she left, I looked at the clock to see it was 6am. I knew I’d knocked the ipod off my desk in the night and knew mom hadn’t seen it, so I picked it up and apparently put on the chili peppers. cried myself back to sleep. mom and my brother and dad left without me later in the morning. we were going to get our passport pictures taken; I guess that was the summer we were going to Rome? and mom had barely given me a chance to wake up. they just left without me. apparently they’d forgotten something though, and came back and I guess begrudgingly picked me up. I’m sure more punishments ensued because she hadn’t given me any more time, though I did apparently shove my clothes into my closet and pick up a few other things. maybe 50% better, I’d said. but I’d written about being beside myself, thinking I’d be failing my classes because I didn’t have my laptop and I wouldn’t even get to go to Rome because I wouldn’t have a passport, and all this bullshit... over not picking up my room when she said to. she was apparently a real bitch to me over the dishes too, even back then.

I understand when you’re stressed from work and cooking dinner every night and your kids seem too lazy to put a plate in the dishwasher; that would piss me off too. but her punishments did nothing but make me afraid of her. and she went way overboard over little things. I kind of understand a messy room, but not really. her reasoning was “it’s my house”. she didn’t want a mess in her house, therefore I had to keep my room immaculate. I wasn’t a slob like she made me out to be, I was just cluttered. also she raised me a near-hoarder like herself. she never regularly got rid of anything. I had way more than I ever needed, wanted, or even really appreciated. not to say I was a brat about it, I tried to appreciate everything I had, but I was just inundated with things and was never taught how to part with things that I didn’t need. I couldn’t even keep track of everything I had. mom still has clothes from the 80s hung up in one of her closets; she has two fucking closets and both of them are filled with clothes. both dressers filled with clothes. two closets downstairs with racks of her shoes. and she’d get pissed at me for having too much (that she bought me??) and not being able to keep track of it all or keep it organized. cleaning my room was often a multi-day venture because it could get so bad, and I didn’t have room for everything. I was put into this situation where I was never taught how to clean and organize all the Stuff I’d managed to accumulate over my life and then punished disproportionately for being a kind of messy teenager. and it was never just that. 

I’d written about how she promised we could get a dog. we’d even put in an application at a rescue or something. I was promising so much because I wanted a dog so badly, and apparently the words “no kid should be deprived of a dog” actually came out of my mother’s mouth; a thing I’d latched onto that I couldn’t imagine her ever saying today. she’d already seemed to change her mind once, but I thought I fixed it. then one day she snapped at me to put my dishes in the dishwasher. I had a few left somewhere (not sure where I was piling up dishes back then?); apparently I’d done some and gotten distracted but I was going to get back to them. but that wasn’t good enough. suddenly no more dog. she’d just flip over nothing. and these were major things too; a dog, she let me think I wasn’t going to Rome, she told me I couldn’t go to my junior homecoming even though I’d already bought my ticket and a dress [and had a date she didn’t know about]... and she’d hold these things she knew I wanted over my head. apparently Maroon 5 was touring that year and I told her I wanted tickets to go with my friend. she’d used that to get me to do what she wanted too. even then I wrote about how I didn’t want to tell her anything anymore. I didn’t want to tell her about anything I was looking forward to or excited about because she would hold it over my head or take it away and I just wanted her to give me my time to get things done. I wasn’t a bad kid. I never was. I wasn’t trying to be lazy or spite her by making a mess of “her house”, I would clean when I got the urge to, and dishes would make their way back to the sink eventually. but it wasn’t ever good enough for her. even then I couldn’t keep up with her timeline and her need for a spotless house. I’d written about that too. 

that also explains why, when she told me she might buy me a cello, I wanted to give her all $200 I had at the time so it wouldn’t be all hers. I wanted some foothold; something even partly mine that she couldn’t take away as punishment. I thought I was losing it sometimes when she’d take my laptop and my phone, but once I picked it up cello became my saving grace. when she and my brother would leave I’d take out the cello she was renting for me and practice and it would calm me down from whatever I was upset about. it was grounding and soothing and I held it so close to my heart; it was something that I’d taught myself, something that felt like my own. I loved it more than anything. if I’d have had my own and she’d tried to take it away... I don’t even want to think about what I’d have done. 

the thing is... punishment never worked. she’d take things away from me and yell at me and call me such awful things and it never made me any less “lazy”. it never made me want to do more for her. it made me want to stop telling her about anything I enjoyed. anything in my life period. I never knew what she’d manage to hold over my head, but it felt like anything was game. it made me afraid. I’d written about one day in particular, can’t remember what happened, but I’d gone to the basement to be with my guinea pigs and cry it out and I was fucking terrified hearing her footsteps on the floor above me. I’m sure I was praying I wouldn’t hear them coming down the stairs. not because I was afraid she’d hurt me; I just wanted her to leave me alone. I didn’t want any more taken away, I didn’t want to be called any more awful things, I didn’t want her yelling at me. I’d had enough that day. I’d written that I felt like I was going insane. I was already stressed from school and everything else going on that 15-year-olds have going on and my mom really was the icing on the cake. scratch that; she was the cake.

barely 15 and I was writing about how I couldn’t wait to graduate high school when I’d pretty much only just gotten there. I wanted to be done with it so I could go to college and be away from her. I didn’t find it on this blog in particular, but I remember an old post of mine somewhere where she’d been particularly awful to me over something, possibly not practicing drawing exactly when she demanded; I was going to apply for interior design programs, many of which were in art schools, and I had never taken any art classes but I needed a portfolio to apply. an art teacher mom got to tutor me a little recommended I practice certain shapes and whatnot and mom would force me to sit down at the dining room table and practice, regardless of if I wanted to or not. I’d written something along the lines of “I’m going to be the best damn interior designer anyone’s ever seen and then she’ll be sorry she was so mean to me”. I’m sure she’d told me I’d never get into art school because I wouldn’t practice when she wanted me to. or at least my heart wasn’t in it. I was so angry. I knew I could’ve been a great interior designer, but I wanted to do it myself. not because she forced me to. I wasn’t going to give her credit for my hard work, but I wanted to work when I wanted to. I wanted to get away and stay away and make something of myself by myself and I wanted her to regret ever being like that to me. 15 years old. 

I don’t remember much of this; I had to go back and read about it. I do remember some things now that I’m reminded, and I’m also remembering how stressed I really was. one of my friends once asked her to let up on me; I think my mom had driven her home once after she’d come over and my poor friend casually mentioned to my mom that I was really, really stressed so could she maybe take it easier on me? my dad had to do that too. I hated being at school and feeling so invisible (especially towards the end of it), but it was my safe haven away from home. I was a teenager. I had a lot of feelings and a lot of things happening, but my mom was honestly one of my biggest stressors. not college. not my crushes. not homework or projects. my mom. 

I can’t imagine having a kid and treating them the way she treated me. thinking back, it really wasn’t okay. I wouldn’t call it abuse, but I do remember thinking back then if there was any way I could classify it that way. if there was someone I could call on her without looking like a bratty kid who didn’t get her way so she called the authorities claiming child abuse. technically she hadn’t done anything wrong, and in fact she was doing everything else that a parent should do. cooking dinner, buying us everything we needed and a lot of what we wanted, not actually hitting us [well... mostly]. once or twice I’d gone to the school counselor about her but they weren’t really the people I needed to talk to. they didn’t know what to do, but I also didn’t have anywhere else to go. after I froze up during a spanish speaking exam my freshman year, mom took me to a therapist, then promptly stopped once she figured out I was using the time to vent about her. I’m sure the therapist knew there was nothing actually wrong with me; I was just shy and I had a moment when I was put on the spot. I don’t like speaking when people tell me to. I become hyperaware of everything I say down to how I say it and I hate it. I remember one meeting with the therapist where mom was in the room with me and they’d tried to get us to talk; this was at least 10 years ago so I barely remember, but I do remember mom getting all teary over something or other and I was just sitting there stone-faced. sometimes it’d feel like she was putting on a show for people but I knew what she was like when there was no one else around.

it’s weird suddenly being so aware of what your parents and even your family considers “normal”. I’m reminded of being in New York for my grandpa’s funeral last year, and sitting in the closed-in patio at the hotel with my mom, brother, cousins, maybe some of the aunts and uncles, and grandma. my half-cousin came by with two of her daughters on the way to.. I guess dance class and a birthday party? one of the kids must’ve been around 5, the other maybe 2? the older one was much more talkative, because she already knew grandma and most of the cousins. the younger one was of course more shy; she’d never met most of us and somehow we all knew her name. but my half-cousin was trying to get her to go up and hug grandma; her great-grandma, but of course this didn’t mean anything to her, because she was 2. someone might have even picked her up and brought her over to give grandma a hug, and she started crying. she was already being really avoidant, and then she was being pushed even further to do something she clearly didn’t want to do. that felt way too familiar to me, and I honestly felt pretty mad about it. that moment still stands out to me and I almost wish I’d said something in the moment. my family did that to me too. they see it as normal. I could never do that to my kid, ever. if they were in obvious distress I could never push them. not for something like that. I know what it’s like, and I hate it. even at 2 years old, kids have their own brains. maybe their thoughts and feelings don’t make much sense, but if they don’t want to hug a strange old lady, to the point where they start crying, you don’t fucking force them to. even if they can’t or won’t say no, they’re still acting in a way that says no. that’s what I used to do too. body language is a way of speaking; no is no. I don’t know what’s so hard for people to understand about that. I really fucking don’t. some things you need to just suck up and do, even if you don’t want to. when it’s something stupid like that? like giving someone a hug or being in a picture or whatever? it literally doesn’t matter. it blows my mind that even my own family can’t respect what people want or don’t want. 

I don’t really know why I feel like venting about my mom again. about my whole family. it’ll come up now and again and it’s the same things. it’s hard for me to remember now, since it’s been almost 7 years now since I started college and was able to get away. I felt so much better once I could be on my own. live on my own terms. that was all I wanted to begin with. I learned how to downsize; I recognized I had too much and I learned how to part with things and use up what I had before I went buying more; of course I have to be more disciplined with that, but I’m getting better. I learned how to organize the way I wanted to. I’d get to my dishes when I got to them, because the “mess” didn’t bother me. I know my clutter is just clutter and when it bothers me I clean it. I know I do feel more put-together when I feel more organized, so I want to do it more. my cleanliness standards aren’t nearly as high as my mom’s, but they’re not that low either. I’m just not bothered by little things on the carpet or dust on the furniture. I think she stresses herself out more than she needs to by keeping her standards at model-home levels.

I guess I can’t ask her to lower her standards, but I really wish she’d have let up on me because I couldn’t keep up with them. the messiness of my room didn’t affect her in any way. her room was on the opposite end of our old house; she didn’t have to come near my room if she didn’t want to. people weren’t coming through the house looking at all the rooms and judging her personally. if anyone ever came over they didn’t come upstairs. I never made the entire house a “mess”; at least not after I grew up. she did have some issues getting me and my brother to clean the room she’d designated as a toy room in our old house in Maryland, and often the mess would stretch out into the living room because we’d bring toys out to play in there too. not my fault she bought us so much crap and never made us part with anything. even now; the upstairs storage closet has a whole section of shelving that could be so useful for plenty of things, but it’s full, bottom to top, with our old board games that we haven’t touched in years. I want to get rid of a lot of it, but mom refuses to. I’m sure my brother wants to keep it too; he just told us today that, after we were reminded of this old button-up Yu-Gi-Oh shirt he had in elementary school, he wanted to keep it, and he’d make his future kid wear it. I told him he’d better prepare to pay for his kid’s therapy bills; it’s a really bad shirt, lmao. like....... I guess I get wanting to keep some things for your future kids. games are nice; it’s nice to have memories that you can share with your kids. but on the other side of that coin, by the time you have a kid of your own, there’ll be plenty of other things you can buy for them. personally I’d rather give my kid something that would mean something to them than force things that maybe meant something to me onto them. it would be cool if my kid shared my interests and I’d be thrilled to share those with them; like if I had a kid and we played a board game I had when I was a kid and they loved it, that’d be pretty neat. but I at least would respect that my kid would be their own person regardless and I honestly feel a little uncomfortable about having them do or wear things just because I was made to do and wear them when I was a kid. I certainly don’t feel any need to keep things I don’t care much about anymore for the sole purpose of “maybe my offspring will want this”. maybe I just don’t really get the whole thing with people wanting their kids to have what they did. yeah, maybe it made me happy when I was little, maybe, but, like.. my kid’s not me, you know? 

I want mom to get rid of my old dresses and shit from when I was little, and she’s finally accepted that I very likely won’t have any kids to stuff into them, but she insists my brother might. I don’t understand that at all. they were my old dresses, most of which were straight out of the 80s-90s and bought at yard sales. mom’s only keeping them because I wore them a few times in my young life. and? so? they don’t mean shit to me, much less to him. I didn’t pick them out. I didn’t have any memories attached to them, she did. I honestly think it’s kind of unhealthy to put your kid on such a high pedestal. it’s nice to remember your kid when they were little and the cute little clothes you put them in, obviously, but that’s what pictures are for. you don’t need to keep the fucking clothes forever. it’s almost like celebrity worship, you know? “yeah but Leonardo DiCaprio touched this so I can never throw it out”. it’s honestly super weird to me. I was just a kid. like every other kid. every kid was tiny once and we all wore small clothes. that’s kind of the whole thing about being a human. what the fuck was so special about me that we can’t part with dresses that I was put in maybe a few times in my life? I don’t care about them, I don’t want to hold on to them, I don’t understand why my mom can’t just take pictures of them and donate them. a photo album takes up much less room than a box of old kids clothes. plus, like... I don’t think even my brother would subject his kids to some of those. there’s so much more modern stuff available now. I don’t think either I or my brother would ever be one of those instagram-ready parents, but, like, I’m sorry. I’m not making my hypothetical kid look like the thrift-shop 80s/90s baby I was, not when I can get them a cute t-shirt with a dinosaur or a unicorn on it or something, you know? or even, god forbid, take them to a store and let them pick out things they like; even if they’re young and don’t have a clue.

I don’t know if other people see it like that. I don’t know if it makes me seem detached to not feel very sentimental about my own childhood; to not feel like every second of my hypothetical future child’s existence would be some kind of holy. to just see myself and others as people. simple, human. 

I don’t know if I would have been “less” mentally ill if my mom had treated me better when I was younger. it doesn’t do much to think about the hypotheticals, but sometimes I have to wonder. I know my mom’s got depression too. she denies it. she wasn’t exactly raised in an emotionally healthy environment, she dealt with my dad for 10 years, she dealt with a shitty boyfriend for 9... she’s never sought help for it or been diagnosed, but I know she’s got it. she’s never recognized it in me because of that. she never saw the huge red flags. she even saw dad sleeping all day and not helping around the house and chalked it up to him being lazy until he attempted suicide when I was little. I was never like that, so she never thought I had it. I started questioning myself when I was 15-16 I think; parroting my mom’s attitude in that I knew I felt sad and down a lot but it couldn’t be depression. I didn’t have that. but by 17 it was already starting to get bad. I knew I had it, but I told everyone I was fine. just tired. I wouldn’t dare tell my mom. she’d just be sad about it and I didn’t want to deal with that. but I feel like I could have grown up in a much more emotionally healthy environment for sure. if mom had leveled with me, or lowered her cleanliness standards a little, or allowed me to get to things when I got to them, because I eventually would, and didn’t yell at me or take my things away or call me awful things over something like putting a plate in the dishwasher or not being able to find “her ipod” that I’d borrowed to listen to RHCP, or ignore my “no”s and force me to do things I clearly didn’t want to do... I don’t know, man, I feel like I could have at least staved off a lot of the depression. if I felt like I could go to her, if I hadn’t been afraid of her, if I hadn’t been so stressed out that I didn’t even want to be at home... 

I still remember all the sobbing fits I never let her see. all the self-deprecation I learned directly from her. I hated everything about myself by the time I graduated high school; my pickiness, my shyness, my entire body despite the puberty weight-gain being perfectly normal... I wasn’t even comfortable telling her about the unexplained sadness. it could’ve been curbed early. dad saw it in me, now that I think about it; he did bring it up a few times. but mom never listened, because of all the other crazy shit he’s said. he didn’t press, though, he just did what he could in little ways. I’ll always be grateful to him for being so compassionate and kind to me when I needed it most. 

to this day I remember being 17 and not even being able to look at electrical cords; I’d get the urge to wrap them around my neck. once I had a pretty bad day; I can’t remember what happened. probably a lot of things piled up. school stress, mom stress, everything stress. I remember getting up in the middle of a fit and actually wrapping the cord from my blinds around my neck and pulling hard. I don’t know if I just wanted to see how it felt or if I was trying to push myself, but the feeling of it; knowing that that’s how it would feel if I did it, except worse, knowing that I really could be that close... that scared me so much I just curled back up in bed and cried even harder. I knew then that I didn’t really want to die, but I still felt so fucking awful and I didn’t know what to do. I felt like I didn’t have anyone in the world to go to. I just learned to let it pass. that’s about the healthiest thing I taught myself; that it would pass eventually, and doing something stupid over a brief moment of intense feelings would do way more damage than dealing with it when I was more level-headed. I did have a few more rocky incidents, but you learn something new with every dip in the road. I’ve learned to be more patient with myself; more empathetic with myself. I’m not the best at it yet, but I’ve had to teach myself a lot, and I started learning about emotional health much older than I should have been.

I don’t really know where I’m going with this. I know I’ve looked back at old posts and been sad about it before. I can see what a bright kid I was. I learned a lot of... I don’t know the right word for it. uppity-ness? snootiness? from my mom, for sure. I wrote once about how I didn’t understand why people dyed their hair or got piercings or tattoos; exact things I know my mom had expressed. she was never thrilled once I started actually doing those things. there were a lot of things I parroted from her that I’m still ashamed of, but I’m glad I learned better eventually. that aside... I was smart. creative. I did used to be more creative; I forgot about it because it was so long ago. I was genuinely excited about things. I wrote and wrote and wrote because I couldn’t contain all my feelings; even writing them out over and over didn’t seem to get them all out. I did have a really vibrant personality. maybe a little half-baked, but who isn’t when they’re still growing? I was shy, sure, but I had so much else about me to be proud of, and to build on. I feel like I could have been so different. if I’d been in a different family, if I hadn’t felt so beaten down by my mom and eventually myself. it makes me sad to look back and wish I could have been there for myself. I had so many harsh lessons to learn, but before that I really was a good kid. some things I absolutely would have decked myself for, but who doesn’t deserve a good punch in the face when they’re in their early teens? nobody’s perfect. I just think that the things I did get metaphorically decked in the face for... it wasn’t deserved. 

all that just makes me want to do right by my past self. that’s all I can do. be kinder to myself. one day move out and get out of this environment again; distance myself from all of it again. take care of myself and live on my terms. I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to talk to my mom about how she’s made me feel. it won’t change anything. she’ll inevitably come back with how I drove her to say and do those things with how hard I was to deal with. I wasn’t hard to deal with... she refused to adapt to having a kid with a different personality. that’s no reason to take it out on me. even now I still try to get as far away from her as I can while still having to live with her; I’ll shut myself in my room for hours after she snaps at me so I don’t have to deal with any more of her moods. it reminds me of being 15, curled up in the basement of our old house, dreading the sound of her footsteps. I don’t want to push it. I don’t want any more. if I get away she can’t say anything else to me. if I stay away she’ll cool down, if it’s late enough maybe she’ll just go to bed and I can unclench until she comes home from work tomorrow. hell of a relationship to have with your mother. if I ever had a kid and they ended up like me, I don’t know how I’d live with myself.