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dzpenumbra · 1 year

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1/8/23

I missed my first journal entry in over 150 days. That's almost half a year. That's fucking crazy. I'm writing this at 1PM, the start of my day.

I worked as hard as I could to find a logistical resolution with my mom yesterday. It took 6 hours, no breaks. I got 4 hours of restless sleep, then a 2 hour nap before the call.

You can't do other peoples' work for them. And I am really in a weird position, one that I really don't know anyone else who is in.

When I went to that residential treatment center place - and I don't want to shit on the place too much, the people were really nice, became good friends, it really didn't feel like a "clinical" environment - it wasn't just to get off of meds safely. That was the primary reason. But my other big reason was because pretty much everything (my rent, my utilities, my insurance, my vehicle, my money - it's even hard using the word "my" here) was either a "shared" name, or in my mom's name. Everything. And we were fighting at least twice a week. Again, using that word. "Fighting". She was accusing me of being manic, delusional and dangerous when I was... studying kundalini and trance meditation, experimenting with shamanic divination practices as a tool for seeking out artistic inspiration rather than waiting for it to come to me. To make the creative process a two-way street, rather than just living my life and sitting on my ass, waiting for my creative spark to arrive like some overdue Amazon delivery or something. I was trying to install a door to my subconscious, my intuition, my creative source; so I could enter and exit at will.

My commitment to my craft left me... very deeply traumatized. I still am. I am still scared to smoke weed. Weed was a very helpful amplification tool for the processes I was developing. I have no idea how weed is so mild for other people, for me it's insanely powerful, even when I build up a tolerance. I used to smoke every day before writing these, and now... I haven't smoked in over 2 weeks. Probably longer, I can't tell anymore. I was really proud of that, because I have a ton of trauma associated with smoking weed, and every time is essentially exposure therapy for me. I really wanted to just... normalize it, break the traumatic association, because it's been a super helpful tool for me historically. It worked wonders for my sleep, which is suffering severely right now. It's very helpful for emotional healing, when in a safe and comfortable environment - by that I mean, my emotions do tend to feel much more amplified when I'm high, so it's much easier to "recharge" or "heal" my mood when I'm in a very difficult place; however, this is a double-edged sword, because if I go into a dark or scary emotional place, my mood is offset proportionately. It's a gamble. But it's also really good at helping me let go and engage with creative inspiration, which is a godsend. But the big, bad one is... trauma. The trauma association with weed, the memories attached to bodily sensations, sensory perceptions... I mean... like... let me use an example. If you found out the love of your life was cheating on you and the smell of pine needles was really strong in the air, the next time you smell that smell? Even like... 10 years later? It's gonna come back. And the experience of being high has a lot of distinct, visceral sensory markers for me. And when they start kicking in, it brings me back to a lot of dark places sometimes, even subconsciously. Being psychologically dominated, being manipulated, being controlled, having my will broken, being convinced I'm crazy, shit like that. Seriously, like... cult-like shit.

And my old therapist told me that verbatim, my old therapist of course being the guy I was seeing in the residential treatment center, I saw him for about a year after I got out, the first year of the pandemic. One of the most genuinely kind, gentle guys I've ever met. A gentle... man. Ha. Anyway... He told me a lot of what I was dealing with was like... stockholm syndrome shit.

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And similar stuff to what people escaping cults deal with. And he was trying really hard to get me... out. To help me free myself. But he just... didn't work in that field, I guess? He couldn't help me get set up legally changing the names on bills and getting me set up with like... government aid? Stuff like that? I mean he got me set up with Vocational Rehabilitation and advocated strongly for me getting on disability. But my motherfucking pride had some words with that. "I am not disabled." "I am a perfectly capable individual." "Me me strong man." I didn't want to admit that I was broken, that I needed help. Even though I was already getting help, and it wasn't my fault. I just thought "help me get a paycheck for the work that I do, help me make a sustainable living doing what I do, then this will all go away."

But it's not that simple. It's a sound plan, in theory. But in practice, it's not that simple. I can't just snap my fingers and start selling art. I can't just ask someone really nicely and then get a steady paycheck writing weird confessional journal entries for a living. I can't just click my heels and have my poetry book be published and sell enough to pay the bills. And, most fucking importantly - because everything I said before is like... technically possible... - I can't just will into existence my knowledge, experience, comfort level and... competency? You know what, let's just use a better term. Executive functioning. I can't just will into existence more effective executive functioning by closing my eyes and falling to my knees in prayer, and then *poof*, I magically have no problem maintaining normal human things. I have proven this consistently for nearly 2 decades. Sheer willpower alone does NOT overpower this. Kicking my own ass does NOT fix it, it makes it worse. Being shamed by others of how dirty my house is and how the dishes are stacked in the kitchen and how I get overwhelmed by the thought of even paying my bills because "what if I fuck up, what if I forget, what if, what if" - because I historically do forget - being shamed by others because of that 100% of the time not only makes it worse, it is ablism and it creates a paranoid complex and feeds depressive narratives which makes me spiral deeper. And I'm not alone.

So, the support that I get from my mom. Putting things in her name as a "courtesy", as "support". The theory is sound. But in execution, it becomes controlling within nanoseconds. Because the way that account is accessed, the way that bill is paid, the plan itself regarding the process of this "support"... that is not under my control. It is contested. It becomes a point of conflict consistently, nearly every time. It's "take what I have to offer, or do it yourself". Which, I have found out over the past two years, is not support. It is control, wearing a "support" costume. It is "my way or the highway".

The rest of that problem, well... that's not my problem to write about. The source of that, the root. That is someone else's work to do. Which is really unfortunate, it is clearly a place of suffering. All I can work on is my work. And this is really a complete roadblock. And I --- good lord, world's biggest tangent there. I was trying to say I went to the retreat place... for sanctuary. And for witnesses. So that someone would see the way I was being treated, how I was being taken advantage of, and being vented on. How I became the dumping ground for the family's stress. And the worst part of that, is that the running theory on why that is, why me? Not entirely because I'm the middle child, or because I starkly refuse to divert from my calling, my passion. Not because I didn't join the family business. Not because I started skateboarding and snowboarding instead of ski racing and kayaking. Not because I started listening to metal and sporting a mohawk. But because I communicate and think differently. Because I am neurodivergent. A word that even spellcheck is giving me a squiggly red underline for. Way to go, 2023... <slow clap>

And if you've been reading this journal, you'll know that I go back and forth on this constantly. "I don't want to claim I'm neurodivergent when I don't have proof, unless I get a concrete diagnosis." I have 2 diagnoses dating back to mid-highschool. I had a 504 plan. I was in special education for 2 semesters. I almost flunked high school, while placing off the charts on IQ tests. I got a SPECT scan which showed hyperactivity in the Amygdala and reduced activity in the Temporal Lobes. At least, that's my recollection of it, I haven't seen the scans in a hot minute. Regardless, there's some pretty concrete evidence there. Like, more concrete evidence than my PTSD diagnosis, and I embrace that unquestioningly.

Because I have always struggled with executive functioning stuff (I literally have to leave notes around the house for myself frequently, not to streamline or optimize, but to ensure even the possibility of remembering), I have always kinda had this distant "we'll take care of that for you" support in my life. And because of that, I am 36 and I do not know how to do these things. And I get insanely overwhelmed at the thought. And that overwhelm... usually creates conflict when others see it, because they don't fully understand what they are seeing and interpret it as a personal attack or something. So that's bad... And then, if they're in a supporting role, they go "well I'll just take care of it for you" to bypass and get away from my overwhelm, thinking they're helping. A decade of that and I end up here. It's just this gigantic vicious cycle. And I keep waiting to have the confidence and strength to just tear the chains off my wrists and get myself off this hamster wheel. But something stops me.

What does not being on the hamster wheel look like? Alone. No support. If I fuck up paying bills I've never paid before, when I can't even consistently vacuum my house, when I don't even know what fucking day it is half the time... then what? If I somehow fuck up rent? I risk eviction. And that reflex talks to me very convincingly, it speaks with unquestionable conviction. But... I've started to question it a bit. I mean... if this hamster wheel plan is so foolproof... okay. So if the worst case scenario in being completely on my own is I have someone coming after me looking for bills... that's already fucking happening. Like... that's already happened at least half a dozen times in the past 3 years. Rent has been weeks late. Power and internet have been shut off unannounced. I had my dentist calling me looking for unpaid bills and shit. For things that were like... assured to me were taken care of. My reflexes really don't want me engaging with this thought, but I'm powering through, yoga can wait another few minutes. So... if I'm dealing with the worst case scenario of being an inept independent person... already... and there's a lot of unhealthy, compulsive, controlling social damage going on with the "support" option... Then I'd actually be better off with no support. Right?

I mean... until better support can be found. Until support that meshes with the support I need comes along. It just feels like I would be pulling my own safety net out from underneath myself. That's the best way I can put it. Okay, fuck it, here's a better analogy. It feels like every day I'm doing a zipline on a high ropes course or something - I say that because I've done it and the feeling is kinda similar - and I've got the harness on and I snap the carabiner on and I have this feeling of security, but this safety equipment is like... a movie prop or something, and it has failed many times before. It is not actually offering me security, I might as well not be wearing it. But the illusion of safety, the placebo effect, is strong enough for me to take the leap. Imagine how much I would accomplish if I had an actual safety harness. And a safety net underneath too. Good lord. If I have the confidence and faith to do a zipline with conscious knowledge that my safety harness is frequently malfunctioning... just imagine the confidence and faith I would have with a functional one. Just imagine how calm my survival instincts would be on a daily basis. Even the thought of it is just... bringing a smile to my face. It feels like the 10 of Cups. That image came into my head when I thought of it. The happy ending, the wife and kids and white picket fence, harmony and joy shared with loved ones.

Writing this with the sunshine pouring in through my windows is a very different experience. It feels much more uplifting. It's the same catharsis of an emotional, therapeutic deep-dive... but with a "mid-day sun gleaming off a lazy river" peace to it, rather than the silence and stillness of cold, dark 4AM. There's more life and movement to this feeling.

I'm glad I came back and wrote this. I'm going to go do my yoga. It's been kicking my ass, but it's also been really good for me and I have to recommend it. Especially if you've sorta fallen into a sedentary lifestyle over the pandemic? Or as a byproduct of depression or something. Depending on what you do, it's usually not more than half an hour. And it can be really uncomfortable, and humbling. But when you get to the other side of that? Good lord. It's just like... it's very similar to taking off a really heavy backpack you forgot you had on.

Let's see what kind of ass-kicking this yoga chick has in store for me today. Have a wonderful day, folks. Here's wishing for peace and bliss for us all.

#diary #journal #online journal #stream of consciousness #stream of thoughts #mental health #Youtube

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ohsilverplease · 2 years

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three little life updates

1. I'm considering having wls but mostly I am pretty sure I won't go through with it in a year+ when my insurance will pay for it. So I kind of want to stop the process but I don't want to wish I'd kept going a year from now? But I also don't want to do all the things to get me prepared for it AND I keep reading horror stories about the effects AND it's kind of bullshit in a lot of ways especially since I have no comorbidities AND I'm afraid to tell my parents/bf about it because I don't know how they'll react, which also signals to me that it might not be a good course of action for me at this time. But I think about me in 20 years and what my poor joints will be like. But then I think about how I'm about to go to the coffee shop and get my sammie and treat and coffee, and, like, not make any real changes to most of my life. Eh.

2. I got my second and final offer from the foreign service but I am going to turn it down. This time last year I immediately regretted deferring, but it just doesn't make sense for the life I want to have anymore. I will save up my money to go visit the places I want to visit, and in the meantime savor the life and relationships (not just romantic) that I have here. But it's damn hard to close the door on that dream even if I know it's not right for me.

3. (A wholly positive one!) I paid off a credit card today, which gets me at 20% of my debt reduction goal for the year. Thank god I changed jobs! It was a huge huge help to get A) the vacation payout and B) the salary increase. I still have 5 figure CC debt but I'm hoping to get it to 4 figures by the end of the year.

OK four updates.

4. I always struggle to focus on multiple priorities at once, like, for example, weight management and debt payoff, so I'm hoping that I won't be kicking myself in a few months for trying to do both right now. I did have a really good talk with a counselor about the WLS last week and I'm going to make a real effort to find a therapist figure because I think I could benefit a lot from it while I'm on an even keel. So then if my life starts unbalancing I will have that support in place already.

Anyway that's what's going on with me. I helped my friend clean out her parents' house over the past couple weeks and hoo boy did it open my eyes to how much junk I have (and my parents have) and how I don't want to be dealing with all that with any sense of urgency like my friend was. But I still took a couple boxes worth of stuff (mostly kitchen stuff and books that I can immediately take to goodwill after I read) so clearly I'm not too concerned about it. But I'll look at spring cleaning with new, more realistic eyes this year.

#just me going about my life #life updates

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angelicjadamv · 3 years

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The story so far

One month after graduating high school in 2015 I was finally able to move away from my family. I was 18 and moved to California for college. Fortunately one of the scholarships I earned was accompanied by a summer program that started in the middle of the summer before fall semester. Shortly after settling in a safe, stable environment for the first time in my life I started to get better. A lot better at first. Then life happened, as it does, and 18 years of repressed trauma and abuse broke me. My nervous breakdown ruined my fall semester, I couldn't go to classes or take exams or function as a student anymore. Until this point, being an exceptional student was all I had and basically how I survived. My safe and stable environment now was dependant on maintaining a certain GPA, among other requirements I could no longer meet. I failed one of my main courses because I had a 0 on 2 exams, including the final. When I went home I was put on antipsychotics. Returning to campus for the 2016 spring semester, I attempted to seek more therapy. I wasn't successful in finding a good therapist (for me, therapy is a personal thing. Just because someone isn't a good therapist for me doesn't necessarily mean they are a bad therapist). I did continue to see my 2 psychiatrists (emergency and regular) often as they attempted to adjust my medication to find something that work. My agoraphobia worsened, I stopped sleeping, I could barely eat, I was manic one moment and dissociative the next, SH and suicidal ideation worsened. I was a burden to my friends and loved ones. I made it through this because I had a beautiful support system that I will forever be grateful for, but I ended up taking a leave of absence academically for my second semester, earning no credits and putting my scholarships at further jeopardy. I was allowed to stay on campus because it was clear I was dangerously unstable with no safe environment to return to and because I had incredible advocates looking out for me. I had realized that I wasn't going to get better in time to salvage my academic career and my life, and was mostly clueless as to how I would survive. I had had an internship in my field since I started college, but I earned basically no money. STEM internships aren't really made to be livable for undergrads, so I had mostly been working for experience in a field I would no longer be able to progress in. Bummer. My physical health had taken a huge dive for all of 2016. I basically always knew I was chronically ill, but I had been abused and gaslit my entire life to believe and act like I was fine, I was just a weak baby, I didn't know what real pain or suffering was, seizures were to be ignored, no I didn't have migraines or pinched nerves (um hello SCOLIOSIS), etc etc. And 2016 was the year my body finally started to break, so I knew "regular" jobs weren't going to be a viable option for me, at least not for long.

And thus I became a survival SW. I stayed in college for a final semester, because I didn't want to miss my friends, I loved my campus and didn't know where else to live, I still needed a lot of campus resources. I also kept my internship as long as I could, because I knew I would miss it for the rest of my life. I didn't really go to classes, again, because as much as a desperately wanted to and as much as my advisors moved heaven and earth to try to make it work for me, I couldn't handle it. I was finally able to find 2 great therapists who I started seeing regularly who actually knew how to diagnose and treat me, one at school and one outside. This is also when I met Daddy (Jace) online. After talking for what is probably a stupidly short time, we fell in love and started dating. This is honestly my first real relationship and time actually catching genuine feelings for someone, something that I hadn't thought I was capable of. Despite being happier than I had ever been in so many ways, my mental and physical health was still steadily declining. My migraines and pain were getting worse, I hadn't been able to eat normally in months and relied entirely on medication to eat or sleep at all. Many people recommended mmj at this point in my life, but I was afraid of how it would interact with my other meds. I only smoked occasionally at parties at this point (because no way was I spending my super duper limited money on weed). I wonder if medicating with something that actually worked well for me, like weed, would have allowed me to finish college. Oh well I guess. Because of my inability to attend classes, I had to take another leave for the fall semester 2016. I worked at a strip club briefly, but my health couldn't handle it for long.

I didn't want to go home for the first winter break in 2015, but campus closed and I had nowhere else to go. It was turbulent. When summer 2016 came, I still didn't go home despite having no place to stay. Until a month or so later, it was revealed to me a relative had terminal cancer. I had to go home again. It was worse than turbulent. When winter 2016 came, my relative was in much worse condition. They only had a few months left, and this was probably my last chance to say goodbye. This visit was by far the most traumatic, and more because of my parents than watching a loved one die. At least Jace was able to come meet me for the first time in person. He also got to meet my relative before they passed 🖤

Freshly fucked up by family, I retuned to California at the beginning of 2017. I was mostly taking a break from SW because of my health and was working vanilla jobs as I could (so not much). I had a pretty decent job that I was really good at and had been promoted, but then my relative passed. I started losing consciousness again ( I had many seizures and fainting spells in my childhood and during high school) and had to quit my job. the funeral was in spring 2017, I flew to Jersey to be with Daddy for a few days and then he drove me several states over for the memorial. That was the last time I saw my family. I wanted to transition to online/content creating, but I had no tech knowledge or equipment (even my phone was a potato). In high school I wasn't allowed to have a smartphone, most social media other than what was heavily monitored (and still had 0 experience with platforms sw is popular on besides Tumblr I guess), I didn't really know much about cameras. Way too sheltered and broken to feel like I could start anything. I was now seeing my outside, or I guess regular and only, therapist twice a week and doing treatments that while working for me were insanely (literally) hard. I had been able to get an apartment with roommates at a super discount in return for taking care of their crazy dog, which was a win win for me (he was a good boi just crazy from a bad past and had the worst separation anxiety). The agreement was that I would live with them until the lease was up in September, and then we would reevaluate the situation. Then they both got promoted at their mega corporation jobs. And after their wedding found a really gorgeous apartment in a much fancier part of the city, and paid to break our lease early in June leaving me homeless. I had been fired from my last 2 jobs (probably for being disabled because California is at will employment but who knows I might have been fired from the nanny job because the husband wanted to fuck me). I had no money or anywhere to go. All of my friends were almost as broke as me, so while I had offers to couchsurf at a few of their places they had other roommates who would have been pissed and in a few months they would be going back to school anyways. Daddy and I had been trying to save up to move in together for months, but he was going to move to California. We didn't have any money for that, so instead he asked me to move in with him in New Jersey. Leaving meant I lost my health insurance and my therapist. It was supposed to be much more temporary and we were supposed to move back to California much sooner than we were able to. I try not to be mad at those roommates because being angry doesn't change anything, but it really sucked.

Moving in with Daddy meant we could start our blog! And I was super happy at first, the happiest I could ever remember. But the years had been too hard and my health started to get worse than ever before. Without treatment and so traumatized, my brain and body were constantly at war. I would wake with splitting migraines, throwing up, my chronic pain became completely unmanageable. I started to need weed all the time because it was the only thing that stopped my cyclical vomiting episodes and kept me out of the hospital. My antipsychotics and other meds had been high-key fucking me up (probably shouldn't have been on them in the first place, thank you doctor who also ignored my seizures even when I had one in front of you) and were almost impossible to come off of because the withdrawals. (Seriously, kicking xanax was easier for me than my antipsychotics.) I'm not anti medication or anything, I just know the ones I was on were not good for me anymore. I'd actually like to be on something again, I just need a doctor who actually understands PTSD and DID.

My health continued to be shit for most of 2018, with several ER visits for severe dehydration from vomiting for days on end. We started to make videos and do snapchat and online sessions to be able to make ends meet. Despite being in the worst situation and thus everything being a trizillion times harder, we really loved (and still love 😇) doing SW and creating content. Our fans and clients have been there in some of our darkest moments, just being lovely or pulling through for us when we needed it most. During 2018 and 2019 I became actively suicidal for the first time since I was 13. I struggled with self harm again. I have gotten worse than I ever thought possible. But I wouldn't have made it at all if it wasn't for SW, this community and our supporters.

At the beginning of 2020 we were finally able to move back to California. Obviously, the pandemic severely disrupted many of our plans, especially regarding my recovery. Despite things being delayed or shifted, we are in a much better place currently. I have what I need to get better and I can build a support system again. I will get better.

Talking about things is hard for me. Being open and honest is hard for me. For 18 years I was trained and abused to not be sad or show negative feelings, or talk about upsetting things, and it has been killing me slowly my entire life. I genuinely don't want pity or to make others feel bad, but I do want to give you the chance to get to know me. I don't always talk about things so much. But I'm trying to get better at it.

#angelicjada #oc #about jada

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movedto-jewishbucke · 4 years

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@cupidmarwani // this isn’t 100% happy but here we go

I think along with being bullied for being “weird” (aka showing signs of (unmedicated) ADHD) he was also bullied for being GNC, or “obviously” gay, even though he was like... convinced he was cis and straight (until high school)

10 y/o Buck: it’s completely normal to get “!!!” when the cashier at subway calls you sir even though you’re definitely definitely definitely a girl :) 100% girl :)

I think it’s important to note that he definitely knew that, like, gay people were a thing - I think there was probably an elderly lesbian couple that frequented his shul as a child and he was always just *saucer eyes* at them

(also he didn’t know why he was so “obsessed” with seeing gay couples on the street... or at his shul... until he was like “oh... I am a gay people... nice :)”)

12 y/o Buck: being uncomfortable with your birth name to the point of being nauseous every time you hear it is super normal actually :) anyway call me Buck or I’ll kick your shins :)

anyway Buck joined GSA his freshman yr of high school because he thought it’d be a great way to be an Ally(tm) and definitely wouldn’t awaken anything in him :)

when he joined GSA that’s when he met his Very First Trans Person

but let’s be real - he has probably met a trans person before without knowing it but, like, this was the first trans person he met who was like “I’m trans :)”

anyway! she was a trans woman (Ellie), two grades above him, and the first time she talked about her experiences(tm), Buck was just *saucer eyes* and he was just :O

14 y/o Buck: this sounds similar to my experiences :) I’m not trans though :) because I’m a Girl :) 100% a girl :)

but like anyway he kept going to GSA... as an Ally(tm)... and also he asked Ellie a lot of questions because he wanted to be a Great Ally(tm) and not because he was trans

two months later he was like “hmm... so that seems like... it was a lie...” and he came out - only to the people in GSA though - and he started testing the waters with new names (but he still mostly went by Buck as a “safe” name)

he came out to Maddie first- over winter break. it was the fifth night of Hanukkah. their parents had gone to bed and they were sitting in the living room, watching the candles burn, and eating the last of the latkes (and also arguing a little over which topping is best- sour cream or ketchup)

then he just kind of blurted it out- it definitely went something like “I’m sorry but ketchup is the best topping, you’re just wrong :/” then he blurts out “I’m trans” and Maddie’s probably kind of like “...okay? that has nothing to do with what is the superior topping but... okay? I still love you?”

obviously I think they have a more... serious, in-depth discussion about Buck being trans later but when he first tells her they just kind of leave it at that and move on

he comes out to their parents (with Maddie’s support) probably the first week of summer and I think they’re a little confused but they’re pretty supportive and do their best to educate themselves (Maddie helps them because almost as soon as Buck told her she did a lot of reading, I think)

also he comes out to his friends over the summer as well and probably loses a ton of them which sucks a lot for him because he didn’t think they’d have that poor of a reaction (especially considering they were supportive of their other friend who came out as gay a few months prior)

anyway, I like the idea of Maddie picking his name! with his permission of course... like I think they’re chilling in Buck’s room, talking about Trans Things(tm), and Maddie’s just “so is Buck going to be your name or........? because I love you but Buck Buckley sounds bad”

Buck’s kind of like >:( though he agrees and is just “uh no :/ I can’t find a name that fits though :/” and so Maddie’s like “oooh can I pick” and he’s like “...I will take suggestions, yes”

it’s not until halfway thru summer that Maddie finally comes up with a name- Evan -and they spend the summer calling him it just to see how he feels about it and he’s “!!!”

the last day of summer, Maddie cuts Buck’s hair and the euphoria!!! whew!!! his parents aren’t Too Happy about that but mostly because they end up having to take him to a professional hairstylist to Fix It and by the time they’re done fixing it, his curls are gone :(

Buck starts sophomore year with a semi-new wardrobe, a new name, a new haircut- a new everything

things are still :/ but he really does find out who is Real Friends are during sophomore yr and a lot of people are pretty supportive of him being trans(tm) and also he makes new friends!!! who love and support him!!!

also I think his extended family are pretty supportive- a little confused but supportive and they definitely slip up (just like his parents do sometimes) but it’s not malicious

his parents coordinate with the rabbi to see if he can have a bar mitzvah (since he had a bat mitzvah for his 12th birthday) and for his 16th birthday he gets a bar mitzvah and also a new (masculine) Hebrew name that his parents help him pick out :0

also Maddie buys him an LGBT siddur because I think that’s neat (there actually is an LGBT siddur- iirc it was created by a reconstructionist or reform synagogue in San Francisco)

also for his 16th birthday, his name is legally changed so he’s officially Evan Buckley on all of his documents and also his gender marker is changed too :)

anyway!! shortly after his 16th birthday, they start working on getting him on testosterone- because his therapist recommended it and it’s something Buck has been wanting for a hot minute

he starts testosterone a few months later which is very fun for him and he’s very :)

Maddie bullies him for having (and refusing to shave) his rat mustache but it’s all in good fun and also it is kind of ugly

(luckily for Maddie, he ends up growing a beard when his testosterone dosage is upped so the rat ‘stache doesn’t hang around)

anyway, he gets top surgery (double incision) the summer after he graduates- insurance covered some of it but the rest is covered by his parents (due to the cost they basically tell him that’s his grad gift which is fine with him tbh)

I think after top surgery Buck is pretty much... not dysphoric?

like, I don’t see him as having bad bottom dysphoria and most of the things he was dysphoric about went away after top surgery and testosterone

(ie his voice got deeper; he got taller on testosterone (though he was tall to begin with imo); his chest got [redacted]; etc)

so, like, yeah- I think he has bottom dysphoria but it’s “mild” (if any dysphoria can be called mild) and it’s not bad enough that he wants, or feels he needs, any of the bottom surgeries available

also he does pack but not consistently imo? I feel it’s mostly cause he forgets to because, again, he just... isn’t bothered by what’s going on down there

I think that is all... also I can’t believe I wrote... almost 1300 words... solely on trans!buck headcanons... we stan... I guess?

#911 fox #evan buckley #trans!buck #jewish!buck #ok to reblog

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sierrabinondo · 3 years

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2020

damn my last tumblr post is the last day of woodland creatures, did i not do a 2019 wrap up?? i feel like i did. oh well lmao

so, arguably the most tumultuous year in modern history (at least, american history- all pandemic and political events considered) is about to come to a close. it was very not fun experiencing a pandemic as millions lost their loved ones to covid. i was part of the 20% of people that became unemployed as a result of the economy taking a huge dump. i would not want to experience this same year again if it meant that every life lost could be saved. with the year i was given, i made the best out of it that i could.

like every other person on this earth (except for where the virus was already spreading), this year started out normal as hell for me. i was hating my job but chugging through each week, with the occasional show to worry about and then planning our band’s 2020 release plans. despite my salaried job, i was barely making enough to put anything away in savings, forthcoming disney trip aside. i really felt like i was putting in all this work at a full time job just to barely stay afloat and it grated at my soul. i don’t dream of labor, and i only take jobs like this because nothing i am passionate about truly makes money and the marketing jobs i would actually care about are never available to me/never come to fruition after submitting myself for consideration.

disney was a huge highlight of my year despite being deathly sick. i keep wondering if i had covid (i never figured it out), but it sure as hell felt like it. i feel like if i did have it i would have passed it on to jeremiah and his family but i didn’t. i could still kinda taste, but not smell because i had the worst sinus infection i ever had in my entire fucking life. like i know i get them a lot but really, holy shit. i really had it bad. it started when we were in the studio the 2nd to last weekend of february on the last studio day. i had to go back to the studio several months later because i was that unsatisfied with how the vocals came out. i didn’t want to fuck up these releases and have my performance be mid so i was willing to pay to have to re-do everything. i assumed if this was like any other sinus infection, it would go away in a week.

lmao.

i had that infection for THREE WHOLE FUCKING WEEKS. i played a show with that monster sinus infection, and went to disney with it. i went two weeks without meds because i really was convinced it would go away on its own. before we left for disney i finally got antibiotics at urgent care and couldn’t drink most of the trip which sucked. but that finally did the job, and the infection waned when we returned from disney. despite being physically weak, in pain (there was one friday my body pains were so horrible that jeremiah contemplated taking me to the hospital), and leaking snot all over my sleeves the entire trip (LIKE IT WAS THAT UNCONTROLLABLE. I HAD NEVER GONE THROUGH THAT MANY PACKS OF TISSUES IN MY LIFE. I WAS LEAKING SO MUCH I HAD TO LOCATE THE BABY CHANGING STATION IN MAGIC KINGDOM. IT WAS LIKE A SECRET STERILIZED TROVE OF HAND SANITIZER, WIPES, TISSUES AND BABY OIL.) i had an amazing time at disney. and it was my first time going with a significant other so it was incredibly fun. it was also a wonderful opportunity to spend time with his family. the only very not fun part was missing our nephew in the main street parade because some bozos fucked up the info they gave my sister-in-law and we were out walking around when his high school band had actually marched earlier than we thought.

it’s funny, because that weekend after we returned was the last weekend of “freedom” everyone had before lockdown. we were weary of covid while in florida but still living it up on vacation. at that time, there had only been 3 cases in orlando. 3!!!! i had plans to go to a party once home but i cancelled only because i still wasn’t completely out of the woods and 100% well again. i felt so bad cancelling because it was for my friend’s party and she never really did parties usually :( and i thought it wouldn’t be a good idea considering i may or may not have had covid.

then... the following week came.

monday we got a weird email from our CEO saying there was going to be salary cuts and that it was essential for the company to survive a downturn. i pouted but my parents consoled me saying it was better than nothing; maybe look for a new job. and then- i got the nothing! a day or two later, i was let go. and i could tell my manager was absolutely not souped to be giving me this call at all. she literally prefaced it like, “this sucks, but-” and gave me the news. and i was utterly devastated, sobbing controllably, because i was just scraping by on this income to begin with. and i had JUST, finally, received health insurance through this job. i was asked to continue working through friday the 20th, which i would be paid for, and then i would have to return my laptop and any other work materials (like printouts and promo stuff) i had possession of.

that day and the days following i had coworkers calling me or emailing me telling me they were so sorry. i was the first to be let go, and they were kind enough to extend words of encouragement to me. clients i worked closely with, a couple of them around my age, assured me that i could use them as a reference. many of my colleagues were my higher-ups, but were very down-to-earth people. one call that stuck out to me was from my colleague sarah.

sarah was candid with me and said, “y’know how i was unemployed for 6 months?” i knew this well though we had only worked together for a year and a half; it was an important part of her path to where she was in her career now and why she chose it. she continued, “those were the best 6 months of my life.”

and i would come to find out that yes, me too being unemployed was the best fucking time of my entire goddamn adult life.

when i posted i was officially unemployed i had an outpouring of support from my friends, and received enough animal crossing commissions to pay one month’s rent. the first day i finally felt peace was when i was sitting on my porch on an abnormally warm march day playing animal crossing following my last day at my company. it was like the universe was giving me a hug and telling me everything was going to be all right.

what would come was a pretty chaotic couple of months. jeremiah, my roommate and i would stay up until 3 am either watching anime or playing video games, subsequently sleeping until 11 am or noon. pair having fun, drinking (mostly me lmao) and lounging about with the scary realization that thousands of people every day were dying of covid and it could be my high-risk parents. i would cry at night and be so fucking scared. my sibling would tell me my family was being reckless, running unnecessary errands, and whenever my dad showed up to drop off food or necessities i would cry because i couldn’t hug him. i’m even getting choked up thinking about it now. and it was a fear that returned during the second spike around the holidays because it is the loss i fear the most.

amidst this really horrible time, i would play games almost every other night online with my friends and it was so much fucking fun because all of us were either unemployed, furloughed or working from home. we’d laugh so goddamn hard our voices were hoarse. one of my favorite memories is playing quiplash with the creatureposting gang and then my big friends from college. and a really fun night in particular was SIIE release night, i popped a bottle of champagne and got absoluely zonked lmao. every few days i would have something to look forward to, some sort of virtual plans with my friends. this would continue until july when my friends were slowly starting to go back to work.

most of my early quarantine days were as follows: wake up, watch anime, work on commissions for most of the day, order extremely good food for delivery, play video games, and then bed. at one point commissions became so overwhelming i started to get slower at churning them out. though this became a daunting project, WOW it really forced me to become a better artist. and this year i got to spend so much more time drawing, which was fantastic.

one thing i DID NOT spend a lot of time on at all? ugh. MUSIC. FUCKING MUSIC. i barely touched my guitar, stopped writing lyrics after july, and barely completed the instrumentals for about 3 songs. the only thing i consistently practiced was singing (because i would literally curl up and die if i didn’t). do you have any idea how much i blabbed to my therapist in 2019 about how much i would get done if i didn’t work full time and could just focus on my creative endeavors? and then life HANDED that shit to me on a silver platter the following year. i really did nothing insane musically with my time. and now i am really kicking myself for it. if i think about it, it was mostly because i was so exhausted from doing AC commissions, and partly because i was really intimidated about the prospect of struggling through songwriting. now i really wish that i had tried.

one thing i started doing this year was streaming. i originally planned to just do it for fun, because i am horrible at video games and i really didn’t expect much out of it. i thought it would be cool if my friends could watch me play animal crossing. and then i unfortunately learned that this 3rd expensive pasttime is actually really, really, really fun. i started to spend half my week streaming and it led me to either getting closer to some online friends i only talked to a lil previously and making new friends. viewers would ask me if i continue to stream after the pandemic was over, and i enthusiastically assured them i would. and i meant it. even with the difficulties of returning to work and the band playing shows again considered, i really wanted to. i don’t get invited to things anymore anyway, so fuck it if that’s what i stand to lose lmao.

when the curve flattened in jersey i decided to become lenient again and start meeting with my bandmates. we spent the year trying to finish some new material and chip away at what work we have to do for the full length (yes, a full length). we had plans to tour this year and it sucks that fell through. we also had plans to do so much more content during the pandemic and we faltered under the stress of... well, existing in a pandemic. we did finally get to drop a new single though, and the difference in hype now vs when we dropped our last work was incredible. i am so thankful we were able to build an audience with nothing new for two years. i still often beat myself up because god every day i look around me, at our peers, and wonder where the fuck we’ve gone wrong to have such a slow build. and even daily just trying to stand out and prove that we have cut our teeth/deserve a chance is so demoralizing. i feel like it’s even worse than before. i literally have to talk to myself out loud, both alone and during interviews lmao, to remind myself that we truly have accomplished so much. and to take in and appreciate the little positive things. because this could all be over in a second. and this won’t be forever. the older we get the more we are risking for this, both time and resources, and it won’t do to let myself get bogged down over my inner competitive voice. but god it’s hard. like even with new music we still didn’t even TOUCH any of the goal numbers we set for ourselves in may. though we did put out less music than we had planned, and we really hope to change that in 2021 forreal.

there was a single we were supposed to put out this year that’s on hold due to some pending assets but goddamn. if we really don’t break some sort of ceiling with this one i don’t know what will. i have the strongest gut feeling about the next single and in my opinion, it’s the best one we’ve had to date. when we play it at shows, the air in the room sometimes shifts. i’m eager to see what the response is and i’m so ready to push it with everything i have.

fuck this is getting so much longer than i planned i have to try to wrap this up lmao.

with our government stimmy money we turned around and got the dog of our dreams. we figured, i’d be home enough to watch him, and it was finally goddamn time. it’s why we moved into a house and not into another apartment. i was so scared meeting the puppy parents, and totally on edge the entire day. we went out to meet the breeder to test my allergies and see how i would react. samoyeds are not 100% perfectly hypoallergenic, but they were often lauded for being so. honestly? i still didn’t feel confident after two hours with the dogs because the pollen out there was bad (one of my WORST allergies) and i had mysterious hives on my arms i couldn’t figure out where they came from. for months jeremiah and my parents had to calm my nerves and remind me i lived with 3 cats before i moved out (i’m more allergic to cats) and that i would be fine. i had to do a lot of work on myself to get out of my own way about being excited about finally owning the dog of my dreams.

this little fucking boy. i couldn’t believe he was real. neither in the pictures i often looked at about 20 times a day on the breeder’s facebook page nor when we went to meet him. and he was truly, truly perfect. our little shithead. when we went to go pick him out, he sat apart from his puppy pile of brothers, sniffing around the room and trying to rip off his ribbon collar. we locked eyes and he fuCKING APPROACHED ME. i could not fathom any other puppy in the room being brawly. this was the one. we could already tell he was a mischevious smartass, because once he untied his ribbon he proceeded to rip off the ribbons of all the other puppies. but he was the cutest, flopping over on his back when you were near to get belly rubs.

ever since we have picked him up he has simultaneously been the biggest joy in our lives and the most source of stress lmao. that first week, and the next couple, werE FUCKING ROUGH. i had a horrible anxiety attack when i couldn’t calm him for bedtime the first saturday he was home and i was loudly sobbing to jeremiah that i couldn’t handle this shit lmao. he was so scared i was having regrets but i am just a fucking anxious wreck and not used to having a DOG!! this is my first dog!!! but while i can remember what life was like before him i cannot imagine going back. the first time he got sick and we took him to the emergency vet i cried so hard. when he is wagging his tail happy to see me and he looks like a fuckin seal because his ears are folded back it is the best feeling. i’m so excited for when he gets older and we’re vaccinated for covid so that we can take him on so many adventures. he is truly the best.

there is so much more i want to say but this is long as shit. this is even painful for me to read lmao. it’s always been for me, a guy with dogshit memory, to remember everything, but so, so much happened. so i’m gonna wrap up the real descriptive stuff with this.

being unemployed allowed me to just experience life. to wake up each day, enjoy the sun in my backyard, have time to try new recipes, go for long walks, GET A DOG, get better at art, get better at singing, spend more time with friends (virtually), bond even harder with my amazing, beautiful boyfriend, create amazing work with my bandmates, improve at video games, connect with people all over the world, and so much more. all my life i let money dictate my every move. i am insanely privileged to have experienced this but when i had to just live within my means off unemployment i did just fine. i once believed i was perpetually indebted to my employer when i was discarded like it was nothing. i can get a job anywhere and be fine. it strengthened my class consciousness and while i have control over my own destiny it is our country that has so royally screwed us of living the lives we should be living. our lives do not revolve around labor. so until we win the fight and get what we deserve, i will be returning to work next month (full time... in commercial real estate.... again), but i will do whatever it takes to replicate the everlasting feeling of joy i felt this year for the rest of my godforsaken life. if that means struggling for 2021 to build up my twitch channel and the band, working 9 hour days and then streaming/writing music for another 4, so be it. i felt from a young age i was not destined to live a normal life and that feeling has stayed with me no matter how much i have tried to play the game of life as i have been told. i finally have the confidence to pave the life i want.

so, if you are here at this very spot because you read everything, thank you. if you are here because you scrolled to see how long this was, here’s the TLDR of my best parts of 2020:

- tapping out cover

- the 2 shows we played lmao, maybe 3 tops

- disneyworld

- ACNH outside on the porch on release day in warm weather

- making banana bread

- learning how to BRINE meats

- watching anime until 3 am, namely the time we watched pokemon journeys until 3 am

-watching so. much. anime.

-watching livestream concerts with my friends (the chon one was a real good time)

-playing jackbox with my creatureposting friends, the volcano saga (if u know u know)

-playing jackbox with my big friends

-the first time we ever had panchos and juanchos

-finally having sushi again after painful cravings and being grumpy

-the first time we had chinese food again after the lockdown began

-hitting the punching bag for the first time in forever (my dad bought me one)

-the first time we had ramen in forever

-surprising joe with cake at his doorstep for his birthday (we thought he would be the only one with a pandemic birthday lmao)

-playing monopoly and wheel of fortune on the switch, surprisingly having fun

-jeremiah’s birthday

-getting PAID for my ART

-writing + recording ONE (1) acoustic demo

-finally finishing the singles, fixing the vocals

-shooting band promos

-unus annus

-meeting samoyeds

-meeting BRAWLY

-streaming except for the times 13 year olds cyberbullied me

-my birthday when my mom got me a terrifying singing birthday candle contraption and my sibling curbstomped the shit out of it (i was literally crying laughing like that kind of noiseless laugh cause you’re laughing that hard)

- getting the stamp of approval from andrew wells and anthony green

-my friends having their first baby!!!

-dying from thanksgiving charceuterie board

-that week i binged ghibli movies on an hbo max trial and did nothing else

-filling the front porch with plants and most of them SURVIVING the fall, possibly winter but we’ll see in 2021 lmao

- (in general) nailing riffs i fucking sing over and over when practicing but prob won’t get down good enough to sing in front of others lmao

-solo inflatable pool hangs

-thursdays with sarah in the fall playing with the puppy

-the release of the first WSA single in two and a half years

-virtual movie night with sarah watching happiest season

-the music video shoots

-brawly experiencing CHRISTMAS

-receiving really thoughtful gifts from jerry and my parents

-deciding i would work towards being a full time streamer to supplement being a musician

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keshetchai · 4 years

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I’m going to throw this under a cut, it’s mostly just personal stuff and idk. I don’t care who reads it particularly but also I think it’s nice to put rambles under the jump cut.

I recognize I SHOULD reach out to my rabbi (not today, not right before shabbat, but in general just to talk because I need to talk) and I SHOULD find a therapist to talk to and I SHOULD do a lot of things but actually my brain is just a merry-go-round of “I’m okay, but I’m not? Things are okay, but they are bad actually?” i should be journaling in my real deal journal! but i’m not?

I didn’t have my adderall refilled for a month and now i’m back on it again and am a little jumpy (this will usually settle away after a day or two). the med tech asked how i was doing with my anxiety and depression and it’s surreal to be like “oh my normal baseline clinical anxiety and depression are fine, it’s the situational part that is out of control” and try to have that...be understandable lol.

I keep telling myself I, personally, am okay. I am secure in ways I wasn’t before b’’h. I am doing better. a LOT better. i recognize this. I feel like I have been...not able to engage as Jewishly as I really want which is upsetting to me. I’m not sure what to re-focus on doing so that I am engaged again.

but also simultaneously, while I the individual am okay, there is a lot that is not okay that makes me...less okay? not just the world in general, but my little brother (19 yo) has been lying to family for months about various things (and usually gets caught out) for MONTHS.

last fall he was supposed to be starting community college, he had a full time(!) job and I was so so proud. But then it began to unravel. He quit his job (partly because they fired his friend, and partly because they were disorganized and had no one to train him to do his job apparently?). Then without telling anyone right before the pandemic hit, he dropped out of school. (not even online classes, just dropped out totally. and lied.)

then he started claiming he was dating this girl he met online (which is not bad PER SE) but she is maybe 16?? too young!!! at some point he took himself to the hospital psych ward, which is fine, he’s allowed to do that and get help if he needs. and then after midnight on my mother’s birthday in april he asked if he could just “Get out of the house” for the night and rent a hotel room “nearby”. my mom said okay, and let him borrow her truck. there’s many details missing here like our cousin M found out about his real plan and tried to stop him, told her dad, who tried to warn my mom i guess, who knows. well, come to find out that his “nearbye” was not in the same STATE even. He ended up flipping her truck in NEW MEXICO. he was fine, but he totaled her truck.

mom gets new truck per insurance payout. brother is fine. except last weekend(?) my mom texts me asking if I heard from my brother, the answer was no. apparently he stole $4,500 from my grandparents by going to the atm with my nana’s debit card. when she called the bank to report fraud, she had to keep calling back for DAYS. she cried. my brother said nothing. she of course, filed a police report because an atm withdrawal doesn’t look like a fraud case, it looks like spending your own money. but once the police report is on file, the bank pulled the atm video records. and they have my brother on tape.

so he committed a felony on tape (thinking I guess, that the bank would obviously just pay it back to my grandparents, all this money they saved and saved to replace furniture and make home repairs, they are broke, literally bankrupt.) and then I had to spend the weekend convincing my mother that davka even people caught red handed should demand to speak with legal counsel. (she was very “he is taking responsibility for this!!!” oh sure, but he still needs a lawyer.)

anyways my grandparents kicked him out (rightfully so they fed and housed him for most of his life and he steals nearly 5,000??? apparently he is claiming he owed the money to drug dealers (if true, he’s an absolute radish brain. his mother works for the local courts, his grandfather used to be a prison guard, his uncle worked gang/drugs task force for the local police, like...i’m the first one who didn’t even ATTEMPT ROTC or law enforcement at some point)

the last updates i have are: 1.) the local PD isn’t jailing anyone for non-violent crime right now due to COVID, as long as my brother turned himself in which is why i told my mother he needs a lawyer 2.) he’ll probably be able to vote again in our state after time served or like...parole or who knows what but still, of course he gets likely charged with a felony before his first election, bc my grandparents will probably need to pursue this to get any money back 3.) my mom is staying with him in a hotel, and they’re hoping to get him into a shelter bc ofc he QUIT HIS JOB and my grandparents RIGHTFULLY kicked him out for theft. and he has nowhere to go. even if i wasn’t across the country, I can’t take a literal bank theft/fraud criminal in my home because I work for a Bank. My uncle can’t take him, he’s a cop. our other uncle lives in the side-house at my grandparent’s. Our dad is in Mexico, and you can’t leave the country if you don’t have a passport, which my brother doesn’t.

I’m furious at him and furious at my mother who honestly, was enabling some of his behavior in ways I would’ve never EVER been allowed to do as a kid.

I want to scream. uuuuughhhhhhh. I told my mother MONTHS ago he was out of line and I wouldn’t have gotten as far as XYZ but no, grand theft auto of her truck wasn’t enough she waits until he commits theft related to drugs. he is NINETEEN.

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peonies07 · 4 years

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Ok so I'm 19. I've been on tumblr since I was 12, yeah I was probably that annoying 12 year old. But at the time I needed it so badly. Tumblr was the reason I knew basically about LGBT before the gay marriage right arguement. Tumblr helped me figure out that I'm not straight.

The issue is that I grew up in rural MN like my hometown had 200 people. And most were Christian Republican conservatives with stereotypes and all.

I have two older brothers. The oldest was my father figure growing up- hes 9 years older than me and honestly was the only person that showed me support and potentially unconditional love. Around the time he left for college my family had to sell our house and move into an apartment the next town over about (2,000 people). I was about 10 and losing my brothers comfort made me start being depressed. While he was home he was the one who would counteract anything that would have made me feel worthless or unloved, he was there to prove my mother's words wrong. My other brother is 7 years older than me and was in high school and angry at the world at the time. I lost the only real support I had. Our dad worked long hours and I barely ever saw him after we lost the house he went to ND to find work and I saw him even less.

Our mom is very toxic and honestly probably abusive? I've been gas lighted to the point where I have no confidence in any memory, thought or feeling I had unless I have someone next to me to tell me 'no that was real it was like that'. So when my brother were old enough to move out or to have reasons to stay away I was stuck with her and it turned into the my daughter is my best friend. But with that came the complaints on how expensive I was and how bad her life was, how she regrets marrying my dad and then last minute remembering to add 'but at least I have you kids'.

Enter finding tumblr and learning that no there's a world outside this tiny town was one of the things that made middle school and high school so much easier. After I figured out that I was apart of LGBT, my older brother came home. In the time of gay marriage and all the arguements. I looked up to him as someone who would always be on my side and then right when he came home, I had to listen or sometimes argue with him and our mom about 'the gays'.

They were obviously against it and it forced me to hide and bury it for a long time. I would come out to friends if I trusted them or if they had shared they were also not straight but never to my family. After middle school, my mom got a new job and moved us about an hour away.

When I started high school, I found Trevor. He became my best friend and was for about 3 months and then of course asked me out. I didnt like him in that way but I also didnt want to upset him or lose him so I said yes.

We dated for 3 years from freshman year to senior year. In that time he took my virginity, we had taken 3 breaks and I had relatively no friends besides Trevor or his friends. He saw on my tumblr page that I put pansexual (at the time I identified with it) he asked me about it, I explained it and he gave a weird look. We never talked about it much after maybe an occasional hey that girl is cute but nothing really to address it? I was the one who started all of the breaks. I knew that being with him wasn't right for me but he was still my best friend and the one I was closest to. He was the one who was there when I cried and I was there for him. By senior year I was heavily depressed and highly anxious. I got a job after freshman year at a fast food chain, where I worked with his parents, and started PSEO classes my junior year. Between the stress of taking college classes, a struggling relationship, no other support network, and working 20-30 hours a week with high school and living with my mom. I started to break down my senior year, I got a different job that had less hours, since in the middle of my junior year I had gotten promoted to manager at 16 at the fast food chain and worked even more. I started skipping college classes and would just hang out in my car in parking lots so I would go home. Mom had gotten a job that worked nights and would leave at 2pm so I would wait until after she left to go home and just lay in bed. If I did it while she was there I would get told how lazy I was and how I needed to get up.

I started seeing a therapist in October, of course I was only 17 and so I had to have mom come in for the first meeting. The first thing she told my therapist was how she thought that I wasn't screwed up and didnt really need therapy and talked a bit about how she was disappointed. I paid for therapy on my own obviously and after a few weeks I never told my mom when I went to therapy to this day she does not know how many times I went. In December I finally broke up with Trevor for good and a bit later I found my 3 best friends, they are my favorite people they are my big supporters and I'm theirs. They have been there for me no matter what and honestly really showed me what having actually friends was like.

Two of them are also in LGBT and the other not but we all support each other. After we graduated I went to a private college 6 hours away in Wisconsin. I needed to be far from my family but close enough for emergencies especially since my dads mother had cancer and we knew she wouldn't have long.

Before college started I had tot get rid of my car, mom told me that she couldn't keep me on her insurance so I gave it to my brother (middle child). I went off to college, in late September my grandmother died and I went to her funeral (my mom told me I couldn't go because college was too important, I went anyway).

By winter break I realized that I couldn't keep being carless. I had asked my dad for help since I definitely couldn't go to my mom and didnt have any other option (forgot to mention they divorced in 2017 after being separated for about 6/7 years). He helped me and bought me a truck that was $7,000.

Now here is the that start of the reason I'm writing this.

My dad is an alcoholic and has so many fucking DUIs, he should be in prison honestly. But after my parents divorce he started trying to get his license back.

Complicated part is he couldn't stay sober. Or at least not drive while drunk, and with both of our names on the title of this truck I had to get whiskey plates. Honestly I didnt care about the plates but my dad did and told me to try and transfer it into my name only.

We bought the truck in December 2019 and didn't get the title sent to us until May 2020 and if we had gotten it on time this wouldn't be too concerning but sadly not the case. In February he got picked up again and that's the one that cause me to have whiskey plates so I couldn't transfer it into my name if I wanted to. - MN law states that if a truck has whiskey plates it cannot be transfer into a family member or household member, it can be sold but it has to be a fair price no 'gifts'.

And of course its Corona timw and I had to leave college in March- back to mom's house where I got hella depressed again and then had to drop the courses I was trying to take for spring cause I needed to focus on mental health. In May I moved in with my brother-middle one- to his city that is 3 hours away.

It's better but also not quite where I want to be. So since I'm out of mom's and overall just really frustrated with the world I came to terms with wanting to come out to my family, especially my brothers. Earlier this month (August) I did. I told them over dinner since my oldest brother was in town and asking me about my love life and I just said 'I like girls' and they kinda accepted it. Middle brother is hella religious so I knew there was a chance of rejection, all he had to say was that he doesn't quite believe that there can really be a romantic relationship between women, as god intended love to be between a man and woman. But he didnt disown me or kick me out so it's fine. My oldest brother just made a joke about lesbian porn. The next day they followed up a bit with it of hey so you're gay basically. Most of my family is now transphobic instead of homophobic since trans is 'worse'. I dont agree with them but I'm just content for now with not losing my brothers. I've basically cut our mom off and still dont talk to our dad much especially about feelings.

So with this truck that my dad bought me and with the added stress of trying to figure out how to deal with it I decided to trade it in. But went to probably the worst dealership in our area and got conned really. After 8 days of having the new SUV it broke down, the motor through a rod and is basically totaled until a new motor is put in.

And naturally I haven't told anyone in the family besides the brother I live with so about two days after trying to figure out again of what to do. Middle brother calls dad and older brother to help and my anxiety and anger spike. I've never talked about the trauma o went through because of our mom to anyone in the family only the oldest brother but not all of it. Added in the fact that I dont want to accept dads help if hes going to hate or reject me for being gay I am so scared and anxious that I just explode. They came and dad started asking me about why I didnt call him before and why I traded it for the car I did and I'm trying to tell him it's fine well get the truck back I learned my lesson and I'm giving him the truck back, I'll find a vehicle on my own. I am financially able to so he can have to back/sell it.

But he just keeps pushing and then telling me to mellow out and stop being moody. And pushing more so I just scream. And start trying to explain hey I got a bunch of issues and I cant trust you yeah you're my dad but mom made me feel worthless so.

And I'm crying/screaming/sobbing and dads basically at a point of not listening. My oldest brother comforts me and I make him walked away from dad with me as our other brother had come.

I start telling my oldest brother what the h3ll is going on in my head with almost everything. I talk about our mom, how he is my father figure not our dad, how I cant trust our dad and also about my fears with rejection from dad and previous fear of his rejection. I get through most of it and dad and our other brother come to where we are.

Now I have been out to my brothers for about 2-3weeks and my oldest brother deciding to 'help me'? Asks our dad if he would love me any less for being gay. I lose it I get a bit hysterical and start laughing cause for no reason that I can figure out for now really. I hear our middle brother make some comment that I couldnt quite hear but the tone was like an exhausted really vibe to it? And cue our dad saying of course not and trying to talk again about how I should have called and I try again explaining that I cant trust that easily after being alone with mom for basically 8 years and him then trying to tell me that hes not her.

So my family does not understand feelings well but they're there for me apparently and dont hate me ( I still dont fucking believe them). Like they are saying they dont but I haven't really seen any reason to believe that or a sign of unconditional love. I always feel like I'm merely tolerated and on the edge of circles ready to be pushed out at the wrong word.

I still haven't 'come out' to our mom yet and I dont think I'll tell her face to face, she can find out through facebook. I still have so much anxiety about all of this and it's to the point were it's an overall feeling of nothing but with a premonition of something not right or anxiety about something bad happening.

#lgbtq #coming out #gay #wlw #Anxiety #depression #childhood trauma #bad parenting #brothers #family issues #personal

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swampgallows · 4 years

Text

...

ive been going through my blog and daylio entries trying to pinpoint whether or not there might have been a specific catalyst for my first ever TMJ flare up leading to... whatever this other shit is. im thinking it's whiplash related and praying a good swift kick in the spine with a steroid + physical therapy will do the trick.

going back through my entries, though, it's becoming increasingly obvious to me that it was all just a culmination of straws to shatter the camel's back.

i think, despite the amazing week i was having—or perhaps, because of it—all of the preceding stressors outweighed my progress. and i say "because of" because... driving, visiting jnco, getting dental appointments in... it was all so easy to grasp. it's been right there all along. and ive wasted so much time being afraid, making myself small and invisible to avoid the ever-drowning torrent of my mom's suffocating depression.

and that's why, too: i was upholding my end of the bargain but still had these caveats, these splinters beneath my fingernails. parents interrupting when i try to bake. being endlessly yet silently compared to my siblings. having doctors drop the ball. STILL being unable to get therapy, and falling through the cracks right after my health insurance said "we'll get to the bottom of this," assuring me I'd receive justice.

just like they said "we'll get to the bottom of this" when i had to confess in front of my entire student body that i was being raped every day of 9th grade for months by an adult student. and nothing happened.

i slipped through the cracks.

im not letting it happen again, not with this physical nervous breakdown shit im experiencing. my parents kept saying "we'll get to the bottom of this," and ive done my damndest to remain a thorn in all sides. YOU WILL NOT FORGET ABOUT ME. i want to walk and dance and drive and listen to music with earbuds again.

i demand my own care. i wanted to see zeyan and grim. so i did.

i got my wisdom teeth out in hopes it would fix these migraines/tension headaches ive had for years. it didn't. i got dry socket TWICE, and the surgeon was fed up with my calls and list of questions. tough shit. it's your job, and it's my mouth. permanently. i want it done right. i still had to avoid solid food for a month.

ginny died.

another week later, a wild brushfire threatened my home and forced the neighborhood over to evacuate. the college by my house was shut down for a week. luckily we were safe, but it went uncontained for several days.

i had the displeasure of the wow community self-detonating over the human rights of a country i haven't heard a peep about since. not in the gaming circles anyway. but you got all those mei memes out of your system at least right? fucking morons.

then i had the final patch spoiled for me by a dumbass with ZERO regard for the people he claimed to "love". committed to doing as much damage as possible before seeing himself out, he gave an empty apology and had the gall to complain about how he was feeling 'like a lesser person around here'. a lot of unnecessary headache for someone we collectively tolerated.

i was too stable for county mental health—where they barred my wallet chain from entry (only once out of four times) and told me to "hide it in the plant" in the lobby when i asked for a locker—but still "too severe" for my health insurance. after wrestling with a woman completely overstepping her boundaries and qualifications for 4 separate sessions, i find out from my health insurance that she's basically milking their payout and also erroneously told them that i had been hospitalized. she also lied that my insurance had to release me, when it was in fact the other way around. all the while offering advice like "just get a job", "just think of some goals", "just think more positive".

health insurance said "we'll get to the bottom of this" and assured me I'd receive a call after the holiday. i didn't.

i was depressed as fuck at blizzcon, stressed to all shit, and tested to my physical fucking limits. i slept less than 8 hours the entire weekend, struggled to eat, was extremely high strung and overactive with anxiety, and then immediately following opening ceremony i got the worst sickness ive ever had. i lost my voice for over a week and took over 2 weeks to recover.

then the holidays hit and it was just too fucking much. by early December i realize i was being worn down and spread way too thin. i thought about deleting my blog, feeling shut out from nearly everything else that had previously given me joy.

by the time lucky Friday the 13th of December hit, i was feeling the headache again that slowly snowballed into what it is now: TMJD, bruxism, inner ear problems, headaches, muscle pain/ tenderness, debilitating anxiety, insomnia, balance issues, dizzy spells/lightheadedness, severe fatigue, and the right side of my body seemingly lacking any electrical impulse despite normal vitals and neurology tests.

3 doctors visits, 3 calls to the advice nurse, 6 different medications in me (2 injections), 3 MRIs ordered, 4 blood tests, 1 ct scan, and 1 trip to the ER in 10 days.

shit has been rough. and still no answers.

i know this is long but i gotta write all this here because i still don't have a therapist. lol

take care of yourselves guys. it very truly will only get worse if you don't.

#blathering

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