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tenisonline · 2 years

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entry three - 4/10/2022

after many days of a wifi outage, i return to my little blog. there is a cynic inside my head that says, “not like anyone reads this blog, anyway,” but i choose to ignore them. i will allow myself to feel welcome in this echo chamber that i’ve built for myself. it becomes more comforting every time i use it.

i think i have touched on this lightly before, but i am autistic. i am self diagnosed, and unashamedly so. it took a lot of research and talking to come to the conclusion that i am autistic, and to apply autism to my personal experiences and intersections, and i may talk about it more in depth another time. but, lightly speaking, my brain has more words than my mouth can ever say. it is almost magical, actually, it IS magical, the way that i can type nonstop into a box and when im done, when my back is aching from being hunched over and my fingers are still twitching off pure muscle memory, and my brain has been thoroughly soothed by the sound of a good keyboard-- i’ve done it. i’ve created something messy, incomprehensible to others, but very cohesive to me. something real. i feel heard by my echo chamber. so welcome back, ten.

today i will talk about two things and it may or may not be long. In 29 days, give or take, i am moving back to my hometown. other important counting-- in 235 days is december, the month i meet my boyfriend. in 227 days is my 21st birthday.

when i left hinesville, i was a college freshman facing a global pandemic head on, and even with all of the issues that came with living alone i promised i would never go back there. moving from hinesville to columbus was hell. i experienced a lot of firsts all on my own. first flat tire, first dead car battery, first flare up rash that called for a solo trip to the ER. i was raped here, twice, once being... very recently. just some weeks ago. i cried enough tears to fill up the river that surrounds the music school i spent so much time and energy in. i started to think, and i still think, that columbus is a bad omen. im not meant to live here and im being pushed out. its the only explanation for so much hardship.

i lived in columbus as a child. we moved, to my rememberance, from columbus to hinesville, and then as an adult i moved back. hinesville is my hometown though it is not my first town, because it is the town and i grew and developed in. i can show you every corner, like no where else. its the closest thing to a home area i know. i thought that maybe it would be comforting to go back, but i could still feel the heaviness and hardship i left behind. even then, i was starting a new life as an adult in school and i thought i could do it. a year later im a music school drop out, poor and struggling and ready to leave. life comes at you fast.

so yes, i am running away. i give up. i surrender to columbus georgia and all its weird energy. i am going back to my moms house where i wont have rent and where i’ll always have food and supplies. it’s only right. i need to fix my credit and reset my life and get back into college, i cant do that if im struggling to survive. i am running from people who hurt me, from people that i hurt, i am running. running is not bad. running is exercise. and when i get to where im going i’ll stop running.

i have been watching a lot of grey’s anatomy. im on season 9, the episode where Christina leaves seattle. She tells Meredith that too much has happened to them. friends dying, a shooting, a plane crash, she feels like its cursed. it took more from her than it gave. Meredith replies that personally, it took just as much from her as it gave. Christina was drained by Seattle, but Seattle was Meredith’s balance. I am drained by columbus. That’s why i am going home.

I struggle with the prospect of going back to my moms house. Me and my mom often bump heads. We dont see things the same way. And also, it’s horrifying to think that I may see someone i once knew well, someone i havent talked to in forever because i just didnt want to. hinesville was where i met my two closest friends, both of which i no longer speak to anymore. outgrew my hinesville friends, my hinesville boyfriend, i am a city person now. i have a new lover who i’ll marry in a fancy dress one day. and i have a new perspective. and im happy. but i know that growth is lonely. when i go home theres no one to call and say “im back” to.

my mom says return is not failure, it is just a reset, recalibration. im starting to understand what she means. i have to shed my teenaged perspective of hometown in order to be happy. i have to be an adult, starting a new chapter in an old place transformed-- a place that has boomed with new people and new things since i last went-- vs a teenager scraping her way out of a dead end place. i’ll turn 21 there. i’ll go to the bar. i’ll go to a club, ill meet new people, ill live life as an adult there and not a kid. it’s a different life and it’ll be a happier life. mom says i dont have to work for the first two months. she says i can rest. nothing makes me happier. hopefully i can get a job at the health food store. i always really wanted to work there. or maybe something similar, idk.

i am just looking forward to it all. in december, my boyfriend is coming to visit. we originally planned for summer but it didnt work out that way. i was hurt but december is better. gives us more time to plan something solid. i am so excited to see him and love him up close. and i will. everything will go smoothly and im excited for that, for something in my life to be easy and smooth. he is easy to love. he is good to love, too.

i am excited to cook in the kitchen. and have money in the bank. and see lamar, and hold him. im excited to see my cat and my family. im excited to pay my debt to my school and transfer to another school. im excited to start living a life free of so much of this pain that comes with living in this apartment. im excited. im happy. i am lucky. i am blessed. and i am hopeful.

i dont think i really want to talk about the other thing today, im a bit tired of being at the computer. maybe another time. to everyone out there-- take care.

-jainie

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tenisonline · 2 years

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entry two - 4/4/2022

i want to talk a little bit about access. i have been thinking a lot about it.

what does it mean when someone has access to me? this is a concept i had never considered before recently. as human beings, we are each our own individual network- we connect our plugs to other peoples outlets- and we have outlets, too, that people can connect their plugs to. we are constantly exchanging energy back and forth, so much so that we can build connections with total strangers in an hour, or in 30 minutes, if we try hard enough. so access is important to humans. humans that are in exile, without access to others, often die earlier than those of us who have connections. there is an entire underbelly of people who suffer under the thumb of that phenomenon we call loneliness, one of the most painful things in the world to be when you are human.

we will do crazy things to not be alone. up until summer 2021, i did not know what it was like to not be in a relationship or a talking stage. my worth was directly correlated, to me, to being the object of someone’s desire. whether it was a looooong online relationship with someone i met on social media, or an irl relationship with someone who didn’t care that much for me, or someone i didnt care that much for, i was always With someone. it was hard for me to meet people, but at the same time, not hard. people enjoyed that i was quiet and agreeable. i was palatable, masking autism all throughout childhood and even into adulthood i now realize, and i was smart and strong willed and i had my head on straight, even when on the inside i was twisty and confused. people liked everything about me. even when they hated me they could admit, that they still kind of liked me. so i dated any kind of person. i continued to date, and search, and break things off, and date, and search, until i met daniel.

we dated for nearly two years. junior year to summer 2021, he was the person i thought i would be with forever, which now looking back makes no sense. he was not the kind of person i usually would be attracted to. my emotional connection to him made him attractive, and outside of that, it wasnt there. after a while i started to wonder if maybe- just maybe- i was hunkering down too early. but how could i leave a perfect and happy situation? there wasnt a single person who could understand how i was feeling except two of my closest friends at the time. they watched me, hair messy, wearing only leggings like a 40 year old married woman, stressed over a boy who was only a very small percentage of the life i would live. i dont know how to love without making it my whole life. and the truth is i may never learn how. so breaking up with daniel was like tearing off an arm. i amputated a perfectly good limb so that i could walk farther than i ever had before.

post daniel era, i wasnt dating everyone. i was fucking everyone. before summer i had only had sex with him. after summer i wanted it from anyone who wanted it from me. it was instant gratification-- go on tinder, get a match, pretend to care about what the other person is doing, meet for a movie, pretend to watch it, have sex that was either mind-blowing or awful. i fell in interest, not at all in love, but in interest, just a little bit with everyone i met. none of them were really worth my time. the ones that seemed like they were, i never matched with anyway.

i picked up a lot of spirits and ghosts. that’s how i feel. once i did it once, and then ten times, and then sixteen, seventeen, i started to feel dirty and tainted. i dont believe sluts are bad people. i believe im not a good one. my body is too sensitive, my insides are easily sickened, one wrong breath ruins my pH and i just love love too much. im in love now as i speak. i have never met him in real life, but by the time i do-- in december-- we’ll have been in this thing for one good year. he understands me. he likes me a lot, i cant speak to whether he loves me or not and i will never force his hand. but i know deep in my heart we can build something so beautiful it hurts to look at. ive never felt this way about someone. i am so willing to fight tooth and nail, i am so in love with him, it burns me.

access is so important. when the right people have access to you the world is right. but when the wrong people have access to you? you get viruses. your system overrides with bugs and anime popups and viagra ads- until you shut all the way down or you’re haunted forever by who you see in the mirror.

i used to be easy access. it was easy to have me. i am not like that anymore, i just cant be. i promise myself, from now on to just work so much harder on not letting viruses into my life. i am going to change my number, and get off social media, and try to live my present life the best way i can. i have spent so much time and energy trying to idealize a version of me that is so perfect and posh- that has all these things going on- ive let years and years of real time pass. what if i put that energy into my relationship with my family, my boyfriend, and into making friends? i could be living a completely different life in a year. i WILL be living a completely different life in a year and i mean that in a completely positive way. i believe in the universe. ive always had this feeling, like something is protecting me from afar. i feel like a lucky person. even when everything falls through i still have everything at the same time, and im grateful. so how does it look to my guides when i allow others to toy with them, when i allow viruses to plague the vessel im supposed to love?

no more viruses. not now not ever. i am going to change my number.

- jainie

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tenisonline · 2 years

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entry one point five - 4/1/2022

so yeah. i’ve given up on the modern journal.

i can do a planner. maybe even a little manifestation notebook. but the idea of having to take all of the thoughts in my head, all of the things that happen to me in a 24 hour span (or a 48 hour.. 72 hour......) and write them manually on paper? i can never do it. there’s a reason ive tried every kind of journal and nothing sticks. even things that are easy, like video diaries. or like this. i am making entry one point five, 32 days after entry one. i gave nothing to this blog expect a sad blurb of an introduction that said a lot of nothing, and 4 lines from the beginning of the best angel olsen song on the planet. that isnt journaling. but then again, it is journaling. my journal, my blog, my metaphysical experience- it can be whatever i want it to be.

so yeah. let’s talk about some things.

i want to start with a topic that plagues me, day in and day out-- community.

let’s rewind and sidebar, and then i’ll lead into the real root topic, like a real storyteller: i hate money. i hate struggle. it feels inescapable, like little deaths, a thousand little deaths. every clock in, clock out, drive there, drive back, every long list of duties i have to complete throughout the day, all that manual labor for a sickly 7 dollar an hour promise, all of it i loathe. i do not dream of working. i dream of being called to do work that serves me. my community, also, but mostly me. mostly me because i have no community.

i have no neighborhood. i barely have friends. my immediate family is my only family, and then next in my line of succession- my boyfriend and exactly 2 or 3 online friends still worth talking to. i feel like i have no one, even though that small group, my line of succession, is a good amount of people. i have no community. so when it comes to community work, and what that looks like for me, it currently looks like nothing at all.

capitalism kills community. sometimes it brings community closer together, but other times, it makes it impossible for those of us who are outliers to find it. i have borderline personality disorder. i am autistic. i am chubby, quiet, disturbed, and i have never seen an episode of snowfall. my friends hide in dark corners, in a warehouse i have not stumbled across yet. and may never. i may never find them. there is a part of me that thinks i could be like everyone else, but i feel truly that no matter how hard i try, something holds me back, there is one nerve disconnected from the big moving body, one little minute nerve that stops me from sharing blood with the rest of this world. it hurts me. its painful. it feels always like i am so close to feeling that beating heart.

i haven’t had community since i left college. in school, all throughout school, i actually did not have many problems. i always had friends. in k-12 my community was choir. fast forward to undergrad as a music education major, my community was still choir. and then i left. i left the only community i had. after so long of feeling stressed and inauthentic, i gave in to the meltdown, and left everyone behind.

i sometimes regret it. i had scholarship money keeping me alive and sometimes i even really enjoyed studying music. but i made my choice. i thought that i would be an elementary school music teacher, one that always has snacks, and one dollar bills so the kids dont miss out on ice cream day-- one that stays after school with those kids that cant get picked up on time, and gives pro bono piano lessons; one that could spot a kid, suffering in silence, the way i was at that age- and save them from their fate.

that is not my reality anymore. so i searched for new ways to be of service to a fictional community.

maybe a counselor. after all, my original fallback plan was a BA in psychology. i could be the counselor with long nails and lots of beads. i would teach my clients to draw their feelings. a child counselor, of course. kids are my world, because they are the first to hurt and they hurt the hardest. kids are the world. i would help kids with anger problems learn to feel grounded, and calm. i wouldnt just have a naked doll for sexual assault recollection sitting on the desk, ready for use. i would also have a doll of a man, and a woman. and when my clients were done using the little doll to tell their stories, i’d teach them to beat the shit out of the adult dolls, to get their power back.

counselors dont make enough money, but i was going to do it anyway. then, light lit up a path i did not expect. light shone down and landed on medicine.

it was a mixture of genuine interest in doctoring, and a lot of grey’s anatomy. but now, i want to go to med school. maybe i can serve my community with pro bono surgery. maybe i can open a free clinic, like Dr. Bailey did. i want to be a doctor in pink scrubs. i want to be a pediatrician. a pediatric surgeon. a pediatric psychiatrist, anything that puts me in the position to help children and their families. not enough people care about kids. this whole post ended up being about them. when i think of community, sure, elders are real. middle aged people, whatever, all of the adults, but children- teenagers- young people in general are failed across most communities in this stupid little country we call the united states. we are not equipped to raise them right. we try too hard to force them into submission. they deserve freedom, health, understanding, the right to be safe and cared for and opinionated. they deserve the right to be disrespectful. they deserve everything we have as adults- autonomy most of all. and most importantly- when i look into the eyes of a black child, struggling to be diagnosed and treated correctly across all specializations, struggling into teenagehood and adulthood with physical and emotional pain and discomfort, i cant bear it. i will be the doctor in pink scrubs. i will listen. in lectures, i will challenge. i battle race science with my teeth bared. i will advocate for my little patients and for their families, and when necessary, i will protect my little patients from their families.

that is my community service. the healing of our children. in whatever way i can.

we often say children are our future, but more importantly: children are Their future. and not one kid will go unloved. not when i get the resources i need to spread love across the world.

i rambled. but fuck it, its my journal. im rambly and off topic. lets refocus.

i have no community. not yet, anyway. but i will find one. and i will work hard to spread it to others. it feels, oftentimes, like my future is an uncertain one, and its safe to say that’s basically true. but mark my words- i will be someone.

P.S. i quit my job today. cami hicks, if you see this, fuck you.

- ten C:

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tenisonline · 2 years

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unfucktheworld - angel olsen

i quit my dreaming the moment that i found you

i started dancing just to be around you

here’s to thinking that it all meant so much more

i kept my mouth shut and opened up the door

#i just wanted this on my blog #borderline personality moment #and yes #i actually have it

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tenisonline · 2 years

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entry one

i have tried almost every form of journaling, except this one, i guess.

i’ve been on and off tumblr since i was really young. i was in the deepest, darkest corners of it. i feel a lot lighter now, a lot more enthusiastic about life usually-- so i want to try a blog that doesn’t have to do with human teeth or eating disorders.

i am 20 years old and yearning. i am yearning for comfort, and grace. i am low income. i’m clawing my way up the tax bracket at an insurance company, but im no where close to the top. this morning i worked one job, and then in the afternoon i stripped and changed while driving on the interstate so i could make it to the night job. i keep thinking to myself that there must be more to life than working and dying. and then i remember that there is.

sometimes things get so hard and dark that i forget that there’s more to my life. so, this blog will hopefully help me reflect and think harder about the littler things. i hope it won’t become a tortured young girl blog. i sit here and wonder, if i die in a few years, will people find this and speculate everything? will they try to analyze every small punctuation mark or word choice to figure out why i did it? is it bad that i want this blog to be my legacy?

i doubt anyone will follow this page. but if you do, say hi. and thanks so much for listening

#diaryblr diary journaling selfhelp mentalhealth newhere

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