mommygrll

[mommygrll]

Asobi Asobase

[mommygrll]

[mommygrll]

New Frame Directives

For Her,

We are attempting a frame-shift operation, the council has convened for an emergency meeting. The evil must be defeated and I'm attempting to jump through time. There are things that simply must be done to shift the frame of the experience. Like, if you've ever had the thought "What if I could call everyone", or in more modern times, "What if we had a Zoom meeting" then this is in that vein. The core of this belief will be incorporated into the code of conduct at headquarters, a sort of radical reorientation of our user experience, it's been truly terrible and we're here to change that. We have three major objectives as of right now: Delete/Disengage hookup apps Block Pests Implementation of a strict sobriety policy

More policies will be incorporated as I venture deeper into my quest through the matrix. The apps have been deleted, and I'll move on to eliminating shortcuts leading to the related websites. I've also unsubscribed from the email portion of the A4A experience. I am footloose and fancy-free. The pest question troubles me, I feel moved to delete the embarrassing number of fire-emoji contacts I've accumulated since my 18th birthday. I need to cause a change. I can get out from under this if I really shape up. I seek to remove all offenders from my WhatsApp, iMessage and wherever else I've allowed them to loiter. This should be an ongoing practice.

I sat down to write this with such "gusto" in my heart. I've cried out against the cycles and can only pray that this appeases Her.

When I got back to my room after my econ exam. It was manageable, i tried my best. I went to rest my eyes and ended up falling asleep. The content of the dream(s) has been difficult to recall with clarity but I can reproduce the general impression.

I was in a strange land and was fleeing danger. I came upon a girl. She might have had a white dress. I tried to find a way to move upwards, in a Spiderman sort of way. I asked where she was, I guess I must have lost her. She said she was all around me. I looked up again and saw that there were these rope sort of things, kind of like bungee cords. I asked her if she could make more and she did. I made my way upwards with great speed, it was kind of like a trampoline. Above us there was some sort of obstacle. She told me to put my hand up, kind of as if I were trying to high five the sky but the situation was pretty intense so I held it up firmly. When hand met with mass, there was a resounding sound, kind of like a perfect block in kung fu panda. We're in a different location, a kind of half-way place. I felt Her leaving, our play had come to and end, I wanted to go with her. She told me, " A human lifetime is a lot bigger than 2 years, it won't be your time for a while" I'm half-awake, we're nearing the end of things. It's time for farewell. It's 6:22 p.m. I look at my dorm room floor, there are two small figures, both short in stature. I ask her "What are these?" She informs me they're here to wake me up, or something to that effect. The first cutely greets me through gesture, she might have curtsied. I realized the second would be something to scare me, so I wasn't wholly afraid, but as it began to ready its jumpscare I say "OK, fine. I'll just wake up" Too wimpy to abide the scare, I jolt awake, heart racing. It's still 6:22 p.m. I miss her but I get a move-on, somewhat shell-shocked. It kind of felt like a video game or some kind of avante-garde animation.

Now I've started writing again, committed myself to easing the torment I inflict on myself, taken some exciting action but still haven't prepared for class tomorrow at all.

Can't have your cake and eat it too. Not all the time, anyway. That's fine.

I feel kind of silly "Why didn't I think about it this way before?" I lament the embarassingly great waste of time and life but I already feel so relieved.

#journaling

[mommygrll]

[mommygrll]

Filling The Void (With Myself)

Tonight has certainly been a time. Not that I did anything novel or unfamiliar, it's all too familiar. So, story time!

Sometime around midnight I was perusing The Apps, answering messages with the same stock responses I've developed over the years but not seriously seeking to make anything happen. Then, a beckoning, a guy I've fucked around with in the past(happened to take my virginity at 18 as well, kind of an older predatory figure. Goes to show you the kind of things I allow into my life) messages me "I would fuck u right now" "U can't sneak out for half an hour". In the past I've met similar requests with a resolute, if reluctant, "no" but today was particularly unstimulating and I felt particularly empty so I decided "fuck it".

Sneaking out went off without a hitch, my dad's a deep sleeper, but it was a bit more effort than I like to put into my self-destructive excursions. Nonetheless, I persisted. My suitor was waiting for me, after all, and I'd really hate to disappoint.

I reach my destination and knock at the door, just once, I figure he must be expecting me. He takes a little too long to open the door but, eventually, it inches open. My beau, a grown man in his own home, reaches for his phone to show me messages he'd sent me while I was en route.

"He's here" "He's sleeping" "We have to be quiet" "Ok" and finally, "Where are u". I was taking too leisurely of a stroll, it seems, I'd foolishly indulged in smoking a cigarette along the way.

I suppose I may be remiss for not asking but I figure it's implied that, when one invites someone to their home for sex, the intention would be to actually have sex with them. What ensued was me remaining deathly silent, which was not difficult to achieve, as my beau bent me over a kitchen counter and had, well, the good time he was looking for.

I was then silently ushered out and told to text him when I got home, I guess he might care after all. Nonetheless, this was not the only demeaning I'd subject myself to tonight. Buckle in, dear reader.

After sneaking back into my own home and showering off a bit of the shame. I check my texts. I've been, or at least I thought I was, "talking to" this guy for some weeks. To be clear, I thought that some vague level of romance was occurring. For context, I've never been involved with anyone in that way but it's never happened, for reasons you've probably surmised. Anyway, I thought this might be a fun first to accomplish in my 21st year. I'd gone so far as to formally introduce him to my (Jamaican-ass) parents, putting some skin in the game y'know.

So I see a message from this guy and my brain lights up a little. I check the contents and I'm reminded of what we'd been talking about this evening. He's on a trip to another city, to spend time with his "future boo" and I've so demeaned myself as to ask questions like "What's he like?" and respond "Oh, what a catch" as I hear his praises. He genuinely does sound like a cool guy, if the messages are to be believed.

It's at this point that I take some pause. I often take pauses like this, part of my paradoxical nature is my incredible self-awareness but crippling inability to actually make any changes to improve my condition. So not only am I constantly doing things that make me hate myself, I'm aware the whole while, on some level, that I'm fucking up. The results will never give me the feeling I'm looking for.

I mean what kind of fucking cuck am I? I don't really care what a catch some stranger is. I don't even really wanna know about the excursion at all! Most of all, I'm in disbelief that I've been paying constant attention to this guy, helping with essays, homework, studying for courses I've never even taken just in the hopes that he'll like me. I'd hoped that maybe he'd see something in me that I can't see. A worth I haven't discovered. Evidently, he hasn't and I can't really blame him. If I choose to twist myself into knots just for the chance that I'll be chosen, why should he stop me? Isn't my eternity quest for his heart just a product of my own narcissism, anyway?

So, it's time to face facts. None of this is worth the effort, especially not being strung along like a dog for someone who can, and evidently is, doing better.

So, what now? I guess I'll just bask in my nothingness and try to find pleasure in the joys I neglect to chase foregone conclusions.

Ew, gross.

#recoverygrll

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[mommygrll]

Slow

Before things fell apart completely, I lived rather intensely. It takes a lot of energy to maintain the vicious cycle of abusing myself - sex, drugs, and the pursuit of both enveloped my whole life. On the other side of it now, I find my days and life to be so - well - boring! Waking up and dealing with life at its most mundane, it's rather unamusing.

Intellectually, I'm aware that I, really, was not enjoying myself while I was in the thick of it, constantly assailed by shame and grief, but through rose-tinted glasses I can't help but feel a bit of nostalgia for a time where life was just a party. When all I cared for was feeling good as I spiraled further and further.

Now I guess I just have to be normal, and normal life isn't often ecstatic, not the way I experience it. And I guess that's OK, there must be some merit in appreciating a life that's simple and sane.

#recoverygrll

[mommygrll]

Local adhd boi lives rent free in autistic girls head

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Something Else

One of the souvenirs I acquired from my move-out experience was a pristine, unopened pack of cigarettes I'd been saving. Speedsters love nicotine, I'm fanatic about it or, at least, I was. I went through the typical drug addict routine of smuggling it past my family, feigning "taking a walk" so I could buy a lighter and indulge my nicotine dependency.

So I walk a couple hundred meters away from my house - can't risk neighbours reporting my delinquency - and find a secluded spot to light up. At first, I delight in the buzz of nicotine swimming in my limbs. Then, the moments kinda over, and I start getting sweaty, and I'm tired from having to walk so far. Terrifyingly, I realize "Oh God, I want to throw them away". As far as it regards my joys, I'll have to find something else.

I suppose I'm largely just tired of being duplicitous and ultimately the guilt of using, the comedown is all too disappointing. I guess I'll have to find another way to make my day-to-day bearable. Me continuing with my mediocre writing is probably a part of that.

#recoverygrll

[mommygrll]

Things Fall Together

This is supposed to be an emotion-laden treatise on how, in spite of how miserable and undignified I feel at times, there's quite a few graces that I'm lucky to have been given. I don't quite have the emotional energy to produce that at the moment, but I must Post so I'll probably keep it somewhat brief.

Following choose-y mindset, I find that reality as I experience it is often split in two. The first dimension being how I feel about something, the other being its inverse. For example: while I was moving my stuff out of my room with my mom, resulting in many moments of discomfort due to all the stuff that tends to accumulate in a room one assumes their parents will never spend too much time in. I'm being light on the details just because I want to retain at least some dignity but just know it was mortifying. Still, I didn't abhor the situation as violently as I normally would because I could also see the reality that this is probably taking a great deal of effort on both sides, the discomfort is mutual, and the mere fact that I'm getting to save my belongings from being discarded is fairly nice.

I suppose this is just me stumbling on the wonder-working power of gratitude. I've usually historically taken it as a given that I've had little to be thankful for, and that's one way of looking at it, sure. But intellectually I now find that line of thought to be a defect of personality. Yes, I've had a hard life but the fact that I've had this hard life, have fucked up so often, and still have gotten this far is fairly miraculous. A lot of things went wrong but, in turn, a lot more had to go right so I could be here, with the privilege of getting to choose whether or not I want to be grateful.

So, thank God for the many blessings that surround me, and thank you to all the people that have shown me grace even when I didn't appreciate it.

#recoverygrll

[mommygrll]

Glib and Fat

Besides the more prominent side effects of my sobriety(I make two months tonight!), i.e. being able to stay awake, write, exist in the world without too much trouble(which is all very lovely), like all speed freaks when they stop chasing the dragon, I've gotten fat.

Now, with my politics, of course I'm not intellectually upset about this. At this point, after my History of Body Issues, I've settled on just being a passenger in my meat suit and I don't have that much interest in feeling much of anything about my body at all. However, there's this tiny kernel of despair, in a sense I've lost "progress".

As a lifelong fatty, I have extended experience with how people treat you when you're not petite and, by and large, one gets treated much better the more weight they lose. Even if they're starving and miserable, I'm afraid. And there's a joy, in trimming the fat. I still think fondly of the laps I've run around my high school(even on weekends! I was so motivated), the feeling of control, the societal approval.

Part of being a speed freak, for me, was the fact that it would rob me of my hunger. I could play video games, hunt for dick, stare into space, and rot in my desk chair for hours on end and I'd rest assured! Because, in my rotted mind, at least I wasn't eating. I could recline in the regal knowledge, again, in my rotted mind, that the longer my addiction went on, the skinnier I'd get.

I haven't spoken of this to anyone, largely because most don't really want to hear about a drug addict's interior life once they're aware of the addiction. Most care and dignity get swiftly discarded, I'm afraid, but that's something I'll bemoan another time.

In any case, that era has ended and two months later, I'm fat, and truth be told my feelings are gravely dubious.

On one hand, I feel I've lost my edge. Even though I couldn't function, think or do much of anything when I was abusing myself with substances, I felt like I looked great! Like a honed weapon. I was horrible, and mean, nothing mattered more to me than having my own way, but I enjoyed it. There was a thrill to playing the game of manipulation and lies.

On the other hand, I feel much more alive now. Even if I don't really recognize myself in the mirror anymore, and, though I know I'd definitely get fat-shamed more on The Apps now(if I hadn't deleted them out of foresight) , I can actually write and game and work and read and do all the things that I've come to enjoy, there's light in my eyes again. At least, so I've been told.

Perhaps. I've lost my cutting edge. Maybe my writing's looser than it once was but, by God's grace, at least I can do it again. So I don't think I'll be paying the extra chub very much mind. Trade, be damned.

#recoverygrll

[mommygrll]

[mommygrll]

Choose-y Mindset

So, in the face of having to deal with all kinds of new realities, putting my education on pause, getting a job, being away from many dear friends for the next half year and my first temptation is to bitch and moan about it. Alas, that would be a bit gauche in the face of my past Actions and so a new impulse has surfaced in me, deciding that I like my state of affairs, actually.

I might end up working a data entry internship for $90 a week, which will soon be my sole responsibility. And so, for the first time in 2 or 3 years, I'll be afforded an extended stretch of time where I won't have to do school work. Isn't that crazy? Why isn't everyone taking leave of absences?

Jest aside, if I really want to, I can find things to like about the circumstances as they are. Does this mean that I won't be bitching and moaning at all? Of course not. What do you think I am, Mother Theresa?

However, I can rest assured that these moments will be that much shorter for I'll remember that my suffering is optional. I can choose to enjoy it, as delusional as it may make me.

[mommygrll]

[mommygrll]

you guys NEED to stop using these icons

[mommygrll]

a youtube artist could be like . graduated from the best art school in the universe or something but if they make art advice videos that are titled like YOUR ART SUCKS! DON'T DO THIS EVER! i will immediately decide that all their advice is wrong & stupid sorry

[mommygrll]

Part 38