leewritesthings

[leewritesthings]

I promised myself that I wouldn't write about my mom, but here I am again. I'll write about something slightly different this time.

I was largely raised by the internet, for better or worse. Some of the most defining moments of my life took place through a screen, staring at text as if my life depended on it. And it certainly felt like it did.

I know that's not unusual by today's metrics by any stretch, but in the aughts? It was nearly unheard of. Kids just didn't do it. They went outside, got into trouble. An insignificant number of my classmates and peers became very acquainted with the wrong end of the legal system. By all accounts, I should have been there too.

I just spent more time than I'd like searching through my Xanga files trying to find the previous post I'd written about the people that raised me. That probably happened in 2010ish. Alas, it seems to be somewhere I can't find it now. Lost in the internet or on my computer, not sure which is worse.

I... was never really allowed to be myself anywhere "in real life", which is how I started journaling in the first place. Or how I originally started journaling, that is. I was always made to be something I wasn't, which I realize now was largely my mother's doing.

I haven't really kept in touch with my internet friends. Mostly depression. I don't really know how to re-open that conversation, if I even should.

I guess I should write them down. Who they were. For my own sake, if no one else's.

There was my "boyfriend". We were 13, it was hard to take any relationships seriously, but I certainly did try. He was edgy and cool and a nerd. I was so enamored by him to realize he was gay, which I probably should've seen. He did his best to gain power in our server and accomplished it several times over, and I was proud. Last I heard of him, he was giving up being a drag queen because he found it "too dramatic". His name was Robert.

There was a girl who was too manic for her own good, living in Indiana. She routinely dated older men (and I remember thinking how weird that was, joke's on me) and she always fell head-over-heels for the boy of the week. I don't think her life turned out so well; we lost touch when I insisted that she didn't have all the information on the Boston Bombers. Spoilers: she didn't. I still think about her from time-to-time though. Her name was Katie.

There was also a very cool, burnout guy who loved her so much, even if he was a bit of a pervert. Which is... concerning when the rest of your friend group is minors, but something I choose not to think about too often. His name was Lonnie. I had to stop talking to him when he insisted for my nudes as a minor because I hadn't had surgery. It was a shame, I liked him a lot, but I guess he was only ever interested in me for different reasons.

Largely, our little group of four helped each other through the roughest years of school; they were my first computer friends, and I don't know if I'll ever forget them. I hope I don't, but I've watched my grandfather and now my mother deteriorate. It's only a matter of time before it gets to me.

I miss them, truly. The people that they were, the images deeply impressed on my brain. They probably don't remember me, but I like these memories of mine.

[leewritesthings]

I've been looking at the number for the local temple all day.

Literally I've had it open since I sat down for work this morning, tabbing over to the page every so often to look at it. One of the main problems is that I have to actually call on the phone and vocally talk to someone in order to schedule a visit. On the surface, it's... reasonable. There have been a lot of attacks against synagogues and other places of Jewish community. I just can't get myself to talk on the phone to someone.

It's the same reason why I haven't scheduled anything with a new therapist. Because I'd have to talk on the phone. And explain I have a problem.

Give me a keyboard and I can type all of my problems out. I can make a bulleted list, a flowchart, even an interpretive piece of art... granted if your version of art is pretty abstract. But vocalizing? Telling someone?

What happens when they judge me?

When I'm not what everyone expected, when I'm damaged and broken?

I... It still hurts what my mom said about me, about the people I've dated. I was under the impression that she had grown up, just like I had, and it's so disappointing to learn that I was wrong. That she still lives in her own fantasy world, where the only one with trauma is her, regardless of what she's witnessed with her two eyes. That she can't be wrong.

I don't know why I continue to hold her in such high regard, truly. I don't know why I continue to allow her to hurt me like this. Every single time, without fail, she does something that a reasonable person would consider outrageous, then makes me think that I'm insane by having a quite normal reaction to it.

I don't know how to stop. I don't know if I should, frankly. More for her sake than mine, at this point.

You know, I thought when I hit this age, I'd have my life figured out. Enough to at least give some young people advice. I guess if I had to give myself advice at this point, it would be that her fantasy world includes such a curated image of me -- and there's no room for me in that world.

Which hurts. It really, really does. She doesn't want it to be true, but she's unwilling to do anything worthwhile about it. So it will be.

If she can't accept me, I have to do my best to accept myself. I don't have any other options. My family abandoned me. I can't abandon myself.

[leewritesthings]

[leewritesthings]

I have to go back to work tomorrow and I am actively dreading it.

Well, maybe that's a bit too strong. Maybe I'm just inconvenienced by it, really.

I just want to spend my time sleeping and writing, but I just got this job and my savings tells me otherwise. At some point, I'll be free to do the things I like.

I did have a good day yesterday. We went to the park, and the art museum. Watched an old movie with Marlene Dietrich, my favorite actor. A true bicon of our times.

I thought I saw the person who ruined my life. Or one of them at least. Why can't I see someone in public that made my life so much better? Why does it always have to be someone I'm trying to avoid?

It's a psychological thing, I know.

[leewritesthings]

I had my first 1:1 yesterday, and I've had a chance to cool off since.

I somehow made a bad grade, and my perfectionist, A+ student self is crushed by the idea that I could not be perfect, outstanding at my first few weeks on the job. It's a product of a traumatized childhood and the overwhelming background noise of white supremacy, but you knew that already.

(cw sui under the cut)

I have a desperate need for things to be perfect on the first try. For people to like me. If I don't, I might as well not exist. It's something I've struggled with ever since I can remember, mostly because of said traumatizing childhood. Of course I went through a very suicidal phase in my teens, but I'm mostly past that. I only have ideation now sometimes, as a notice to myself that I need to take a step back from whatever's happening and regroup. Considering I used to live with it 24/7, it's an improvement.

To get back into work, my boss... is actually very perceptive, if blunt. I do suck at managing my time when resources are not available to me (though I would make the argument that everyone is), I tend to be a bit headstrong (or stubborn, if you want to put it that way), and I'm always looking for the easier way to do things. And like everyone else, I don't understand that things are important unless it is explained to me why they are.

So... yeah, guilty as charged.

I keep trying to stop myself from applying to new things. We'll see what the next week brings. Who knows.

[leewritesthings]

This is the end of my third week at this job and it’s… not going great, if I’m being honest.

I kind of knew that would be the case going in, but it’s just a lot to deal with when it’s such a radical change from having everything set up just the way I want it and having such a good handle on things. Now I have to work in the system, and it seems more like the system is working me.

I have to wonder what a better process would look like. What I would look like.

I don’t know if I have the energy to think about what an ideal world would look like for me at the moment, as bitter as it is to say. I’ve just been through a period of unemployment that was incredibly nerve-wracking and scary — while I had all the time in the world to do whatever I wanted, I never had enough money to do it. To say nothing of the crushing anxiety and fear that I felt every day.

At least I’m journaling every day, so that’s nice. It’s something that’s becoming more built-in, like a muscle I haven’t used in a while. The Notion to-do list is working fairly well. Also working on my coding skills, albeit slowly.

I have my work cut out for me with regards to money and finances, but I could probably put more effort into making some extra money on the side, at least passively. It might be worth it to start a burner account and publish stories on Amazon.

Once I actually start writing stories. A dream for a different day.

[leewritesthings]

I'm struggling with religion again.

It's definitely something that I think about more in the winter. The last 6 months notwithstanding, something that the decorations and the sentiment just really bring out. I really should reach out to my local Jewish temple, but I just get so scared.

Scared of people, truly. Scared that I'm going to push everyone away again, and that they won't get it. That the anxiety will be too much for them, just like I was always told it was too much for G-d.

I'm not really sure anymore if it is too much for G-d. I think... Well, I'd hope that G-d understands my plight, my disability, and my prideful need to carry around the inherent ableism I did for so long that caused me to act the way I did.

It's just a habit -- no, it's something more. Something buried deep inside myself. Pulling it out... seems impossible.

My SO tells me it's not. She tells me that I have a whole personality completely outside my anxiety. I don't know if I believe her, truly. One of the reasons I love her is for her inherent optimism, her complete unwillingness to give up even when shit is bleak. It's kind of cute, and something I desperately need in my life.

I'm just confused as to where to start with this journey, if there's anywhere I can even start at all. Where DO I want to start, and what does that mean?

[leewritesthings]

It's not so bad today. There's a storm outside and we've been getting alerts about flash floods throughout the day, but no one's been hurt or injured. Just vibes.

Ash, I know you're reading over my shoulder.

[leewritesthings]

I'm never brave enough to send anyone an ask with main blog. I feel like it's too much attention, too much vulnerability. Not that I make a habit of sending anyone hate knowingly; on the contrary, it's usually about how much I adore them or interacting with a recent post of theirs in a fun way. And often, they don't post it. There's never any response, just me checking their blog over and over again as their queue unfolds.

There's a kind of disappointment to it. I hardly ever receive anything in my inbox, at least partially because I never put myself out there. And there's a childish part of me that wants to, but I don't know if have the strength to deal with people anymore. If I can be the person others are looking for. Perhaps I've aged out of it, or maybe I was never good at it to begin with.

Either way, I try to keep myself closed off, out of fear and convenience. It's probably for the best, but I can't help wondering how’d they’d answer my anonymous confessions.

[leewritesthings]

"Book of the Night" Review

Spoilers under the cut

I finished "Book of the Night" audiobook recently, and it kind of brought me back to why I like these kind of books so much. It was quite dark, both in terms of theming and content. Raising a kid to not only be groomed but also to be blackmailed, and what exactly it means to be a half-person.

There was also the trope of the romance with the unknown or a "monster", which I'm always a sucker for. I joke regularly with the SO that monster-fucking is inherent to the queer community, as for so much of our history (and even in some places now), we are considered "monsters" in a sexual deviant way -- so why is it weird when we find those monsters attractive sexually?

It's a lot for me to think about.

[leewritesthings]

I'm so sick today. I got 3 vaccines at once because I was behind already, and boy do I feel it. I'm doing my part.

My loving SO has been a saint this whole time, catering to my every whim and listening to me complain. I love her so much. I'm still in the same pajamas I woke up in, at 8:30 at night.

I'm so tired. The Blues just scored. Rude.

[leewritesthings]

It hurts to be ignored.

Even if it was nice. Even if it was seemingly for yourself. It still hurts. Even if you did everything right, it sucks.

I'm old enough to know better. Except when I don't. I'm also not feeling particularly well tonight due to medical stuff. Nothing serious or contagious. Just... Needed, you know?

I gotta accept when people don't want me around more often. It feels like I've learned nothing.

[leewritesthings]

The thing about picking up writing after not doing it for so long means that I still have all my same flaws except somehow now they're worse. I still have white room syndrome, but my action isn't really that interesting. I still have the editor in my head that just won't die but is happy to give input at the worst possible times. I haven't been paying attention as much to my surroundings, and now that I work from home they're the same.

I have a schedule and a job now. I know other people make it work, but truly... It would be so much easier if I just surrendered myself to never writing again. It wouldn't be healthy, though.

All this to say: bleh

[leewritesthings]

Today's the first day in a while where I haven't actively been wired.

I got up early and made vegan lunch for the family. Soup, blended. Mostly cauliflower and chickpeas, but I think it's tasty and my family somewhat agrees. Enough not to complain.

I didn't sleep well last night. I'm still thinking about my mom and what she said. How I've been so stupid. Thinking about work, my new job, and the mess of problems I was hired to solve there. I'm writing this somewhat on the clock -- my boss just dismissed me for the day but I still want to play around with the program to try to streamline what I can.

The good news is, problems are being solved. Albeit not the ones I'd most like to, but they are, nonetheless.

[leewritesthings]

"If we kill him..." He said, leaning on the shovel. "I don't think there's any way we're making it in." He dug the tip in to the clay with another shrug and a sharp pang that rang out.

"And you're sure that's clay?" Orla asked from behind her scarf. "It's not like, rock or anything?"

"Yes. Have you not seen clay before?" Deus asked. "Before it goes on pottery wheels?"

"No." Orla said. "Haven't." She was the one to shrug this time, the only reaction he could make out from behind her mirrored goggles. Orla dug her shovel into the hard ground with a stomp and rang out much louder. She took a few unbalanced steps back. "I don't think that was clay."

"Probably not." Deus said, before repeating it back to himself in a drawn-out phrase. A bead of sweat fell down his back. He wiped his face with his dirty ballcap before replacing it back on his head. "That's probably a rock."

"That's all he's worth." Orla said. "Dirt. And rocks." She dug her shovel into the ground with every word, the metal clanging in time. "And definitely not this much time."

"You're not worth this much time either. And yet." Deus said, giving a lop-sided half-smile.

"Hush."

Prompt: 205

"There are times when I don't know whether I want to kiss him or kill him."

"I vote the latter."

[leewritesthings]

The New Year is almost universally seen as a time of celebration. A time of reflection and a time of resetting, in a sense.

For me, for the past year, it's been wild. This is the first whole month that I'll have stable income. My budget and savings has been decimated by being unemployed for so long, but that's kind of expected.

My mom told me last night that she preferred my first ex over anyone else I've dated, which... really fucking hurt, if I'm honest. What kind of mother sees their 16-year-old ""dating"" a 23-year-old, and then decides that yeah, that's as good as it gets for the teenager? The older man decides to rip the teenager from their friend group in a catastrophic breakup, making them lose any support they had in their hometown, and you still think he's the best?

What kind of mother thinks this is the best for their darling child?

I've heard the phrase that you shouldn't shop for oranges at the hardware store, but I thought -- foolishly, in hindsight -- that my mom was getting better. That she knew. That I had fucked up with my relationships, and it was just something she was being nice enough to not discuss with me, letting me make my own mistakes.

I forgot temporarily that our relationship only goes one way. My mistake. It will happen again, and I'll cry just as hard then.

I have my family now. It's unorthodox, unusual for where we live, but it is home. A nuclear family isn't for everyone -- and mine has let me down time and time again -- but my found family, where all of us are parents and siblings and children? That's the healthiest family I've ever had.

[leewritesthings]

I made a dumb mistake.

Nothing world-shattering, no lives were lost. No one was injured or suffered any sort of damage, physical, mental or otherwise. There was only a glare or two and a whispered correction before we all went back to what we were doing.

It's these little things that have always weighed me down. I think about them for days, weeks, sometimes even years afterwards. How dumb I am. How stupid I made myself look. I graduated from one of the top colleges in the country, and yet I can never seem to follow the rules -- or so I tell myself.

It's not fair. In truth, it never has been.

And as I was sitting in that theater, turning a shade of red no one could see and wishing I could disappear into the darkness wholesale -- it made me wonder how many people had made a similar mistake. More than that, how many people felt the way that I had after I'd made mine.

All of this happened last night -- after committing such an egregious sin, the last thing I wanted was to pull out my phone and seemingly text during a movie -- and truth be told, I doubt anyone remembers it less than 24 hours later. Maybe the nice usher who corrected me, maybe. But it's something I would have -- and definitely have -- beaten myself up over had I been just a bit younger.

It's no real secret that I get too in my own head with these things. I'm trying my best to see outside myself, to be part of the setting and plot, but it's forever a learning process for me. Learning how to be in the spotlight of my own life, even when all I want to do is slink back in the shadows and be forgotten.