Friday, August 23, 2019
BLARGH the STRESS
Guess I left my local ad up because some dude just emailed me about a house he's got in NW H'ville. Internet, AC and within biking distance to the bus stop. Provided I could get him to not make me sign a lease I could see wintering here while I get my shit together, but if this doesn't pan out, I am definitely on the road to I don't know where.
With Trump rolling back protections for glbtqi, I might have to stop wearing the binder and show the girls off more, which is going to demean me further. Trying to get my ex in NYC to fucking say yes or no to a visit. She's got so many people visiting her all the time and she didn't mention she was a travel destination until I asked if I could really visit then she's like "OH well let's see I have people coming all of Sept. and October, and then the high Jewish Holidays, etc etc " and I'm like "So. When you say 'Mi casa is su casa" you mean ... at some possible date in the future but not right now? Or, can you shoehorn in a desperate person who really just needs your advice and counsel? We'll see. I'm quickly running out of options. If I hadn't totally fucked up my hair I'd be in a better position to look around. It's also hot as FUCK for some reason after not being hot for so long, it's literally so crazy hot out right now it's debilitating. Was going to walk down to Tuesday Morning to get some new readers but fuck I'll wait until the sun goes down.
M. has sent me 500 dollars via PayPal. She wants to help. She insists. So I'll be off to a room at a hotel by Monday looks like. I'll need to: Uber to LOWE's, rent a truck, get my boxes to the hotel, take the truck back, Uber back to the hotel ....
and then what. I am currently terrified. What am I going to do all day? I'm free. What does a newly freed prisoner do all day? I'm batshit terrified. Where do I go? Other than a hotel. Oh lord I'm afraid. And I have never felt so alone. I just wish I was in a different city. This one sucks so bad, it's not even funny.
Wait, I got some information today that might re-shape my thoughts on moving. In Portland there is an organization that helps trans people do all the things, including find housing. Like I could legit land there, find a hostel for the night, go talk to them and hit the Q Center. It might be time for me to re-enter the world, sans girlfriend or family and go out there alone. I've never done it before, and I'm terrified. TERRIFIED.
With Trump rolling back protections for glbtqi, I might have to stop wearing the binder and show the girls off more, which is going to demean me further. Trying to get my ex in NYC to fucking say yes or no to a visit. She's got so many people visiting her all the time and she didn't mention she was a travel destination until I asked if I could really visit then she's like "OH well let's see I have people coming all of Sept. and October, and then the high Jewish Holidays, etc etc " and I'm like "So. When you say 'Mi casa is su casa" you mean ... at some possible date in the future but not right now? Or, can you shoehorn in a desperate person who really just needs your advice and counsel? We'll see. I'm quickly running out of options. If I hadn't totally fucked up my hair I'd be in a better position to look around. It's also hot as FUCK for some reason after not being hot for so long, it's literally so crazy hot out right now it's debilitating. Was going to walk down to Tuesday Morning to get some new readers but fuck I'll wait until the sun goes down.
M. has sent me 500 dollars via PayPal. She wants to help. She insists. So I'll be off to a room at a hotel by Monday looks like. I'll need to: Uber to LOWE's, rent a truck, get my boxes to the hotel, take the truck back, Uber back to the hotel ....
and then what. I am currently terrified. What am I going to do all day? I'm free. What does a newly freed prisoner do all day? I'm batshit terrified. Where do I go? Other than a hotel. Oh lord I'm afraid. And I have never felt so alone. I just wish I was in a different city. This one sucks so bad, it's not even funny.
Wait, I got some information today that might re-shape my thoughts on moving. In Portland there is an organization that helps trans people do all the things, including find housing. Like I could legit land there, find a hostel for the night, go talk to them and hit the Q Center. It might be time for me to re-enter the world, sans girlfriend or family and go out there alone. I've never done it before, and I'm terrified. TERRIFIED.
Thursday, August 22, 2019
I cannot talk to narcissists.
I must stay away from all narcissists from now on.
So it looks like I am 'sacrificial self'. Certainly I must have some narcissistic tendencies. We've talked about how I learned how to do things from narcissists. However the fact that I am questioning this possibility in my own mind means I am not a narcissist. I do however have absolutely no sense of self or agency.
https://www.thehartcentre.com.au/what-is-narcissism-and-what-is-narcissistic-behaviour/?fbclid=IwAR2knGVDRxpu7-owUYpwt2f6AbuLY-2-ngIozP-iH-oZKuvnvy2kQfWh1g8
I bend to people who send up red flags for me, and I kowtow to them -- bow and scrape, because I want their approval, or their love, or something. This is going to have to be the next big thing I work on soon as I get out of this situation. I am beginning to think that Karen has some NPD, but not fully -- just enough though to worry me about staying friends. I have to be REALLY careful from now on. Otherwise I may lose all sense of self I garner from here on out. I like to communicate, it's my favorite thing, I like to talk things out until they are settled. And if that is not going to happen, I will not get along with someone. I should know that. A real solid relationship will never be one sided as it can be with narcissists. Can be, hell. Always is. When you sit around wondering what the hell they are thinking... just stop. Because they are only thinking about how to manipulate someone for their own gains. Fuck narcs. How did I end up with 2-- count 'em, 2 in my family? I don't usually do the woe is me thing but fuck me that's rough. And of course these people tend to glom onto people like me who can be easily bent to their will.
Just to keep the peace I'd shut my mouth and take the abuse. And lose my own sense of agency, not that I have much to begin with. I'm fine one moment, tooling along minding my own business when they come along and BOOM I'm like... hooked, or imprisoned or both ... like with Karen. To know her now is to wonder how the fuck we ever hooked up. And while I am sure she is asking herself the same question... it's not fair for her to think of herself as superior to me as she does. It takes two to tango. It bothers me endlessly when one person never admits their wrongdoings and expects the other to do all the apologizing. I'm about to say fuck that noise to everyone who is like this in my life. If I say I am sorry to you for all the things I did, and I even admit to them and list them and work on them and shit, and you don't admit a fucking one thing you did, then fuck you.
So it looks like I am 'sacrificial self'. Certainly I must have some narcissistic tendencies. We've talked about how I learned how to do things from narcissists. However the fact that I am questioning this possibility in my own mind means I am not a narcissist. I do however have absolutely no sense of self or agency.
https://www.thehartcentre.com.au/what-is-narcissism-and-what-is-narcissistic-behaviour/?fbclid=IwAR2knGVDRxpu7-owUYpwt2f6AbuLY-2-ngIozP-iH-oZKuvnvy2kQfWh1g8
I bend to people who send up red flags for me, and I kowtow to them -- bow and scrape, because I want their approval, or their love, or something. This is going to have to be the next big thing I work on soon as I get out of this situation. I am beginning to think that Karen has some NPD, but not fully -- just enough though to worry me about staying friends. I have to be REALLY careful from now on. Otherwise I may lose all sense of self I garner from here on out. I like to communicate, it's my favorite thing, I like to talk things out until they are settled. And if that is not going to happen, I will not get along with someone. I should know that. A real solid relationship will never be one sided as it can be with narcissists. Can be, hell. Always is. When you sit around wondering what the hell they are thinking... just stop. Because they are only thinking about how to manipulate someone for their own gains. Fuck narcs. How did I end up with 2-- count 'em, 2 in my family? I don't usually do the woe is me thing but fuck me that's rough. And of course these people tend to glom onto people like me who can be easily bent to their will.
Just to keep the peace I'd shut my mouth and take the abuse. And lose my own sense of agency, not that I have much to begin with. I'm fine one moment, tooling along minding my own business when they come along and BOOM I'm like... hooked, or imprisoned or both ... like with Karen. To know her now is to wonder how the fuck we ever hooked up. And while I am sure she is asking herself the same question... it's not fair for her to think of herself as superior to me as she does. It takes two to tango. It bothers me endlessly when one person never admits their wrongdoings and expects the other to do all the apologizing. I'm about to say fuck that noise to everyone who is like this in my life. If I say I am sorry to you for all the things I did, and I even admit to them and list them and work on them and shit, and you don't admit a fucking one thing you did, then fuck you.
SANER HEADS
My brain farted and I missed my ride for therapy but was able to have a phone convo so that's cool. My therapist says she is almost glad I didn't actually make it to her office because she is dressed as Tallulah Bankhead for the cemetary walk. I should go sneak up on her in the graveyard. Yes I am going to do that.
Just talking to a sane person makes all the difference. I need people to talk to on the phone she says. Texting is not going to help me right now, I need sane convos she says. I think so too. So I will be asking my friends if they can spare a few minutes a week for a bit. Karen is answering my protonmail emails but not my gmail emails haha. So we can talk about revolution stuff but nothing else for now. Bea is pretty busy with her mom. I think if I want to meet Bea's mom before she kicks it I better head up. I'm going to ask her tomorrow if we can firm up deets. And get her address so I can check it out on google maps.
Trying to see myself in NYC right now. There sure would be a lot of leftists to connect with. Finding them though. I should ask reddit what is going on in that area so I can network while there. Maybe I can even baby sit mom while Bea goes on a date with her paramour. They haven't done the deed yet... I have just asked her if it was ok to come very soon. She is awaiting a reply from a friend who is visiting in September. There are many Jewish Holidays coming up and I can't be there for that but there may be a window here in the next couple of weeks.
speaking of deed. My anonymous random sexting buddy flaked off. It was fun while it lasted. I simply can't believe that happens in real life but I'd glad it does. 4 years without hugs and love, can really mess with a person. A bit of intense concentrated sexual texting can really be a nice diversion from the politics and the insanity of the narcissist with OCD shit I've been dealing with. And I had no idea how bad her OCD is because all these years she's kept it under control sort of but this time it's off the charts. She's focused on me like a dog with a bone.
Meh. Can't wait to go no contact. Although my FB spy will surely alert her to my every move. Good. Can't wait to post about how happy I am being FREE.
Just talking to a sane person makes all the difference. I need people to talk to on the phone she says. Texting is not going to help me right now, I need sane convos she says. I think so too. So I will be asking my friends if they can spare a few minutes a week for a bit. Karen is answering my protonmail emails but not my gmail emails haha. So we can talk about revolution stuff but nothing else for now. Bea is pretty busy with her mom. I think if I want to meet Bea's mom before she kicks it I better head up. I'm going to ask her tomorrow if we can firm up deets. And get her address so I can check it out on google maps.
Trying to see myself in NYC right now. There sure would be a lot of leftists to connect with. Finding them though. I should ask reddit what is going on in that area so I can network while there. Maybe I can even baby sit mom while Bea goes on a date with her paramour. They haven't done the deed yet... I have just asked her if it was ok to come very soon. She is awaiting a reply from a friend who is visiting in September. There are many Jewish Holidays coming up and I can't be there for that but there may be a window here in the next couple of weeks.
speaking of deed. My anonymous random sexting buddy flaked off. It was fun while it lasted. I simply can't believe that happens in real life but I'd glad it does. 4 years without hugs and love, can really mess with a person. A bit of intense concentrated sexual texting can really be a nice diversion from the politics and the insanity of the narcissist with OCD shit I've been dealing with. And I had no idea how bad her OCD is because all these years she's kept it under control sort of but this time it's off the charts. She's focused on me like a dog with a bone.
Meh. Can't wait to go no contact. Although my FB spy will surely alert her to my every move. Good. Can't wait to post about how happy I am being FREE.
Wednesday, August 21, 2019
It's all in my head!
So I saw my doctor today. This is a nice guy, a younger fellow, kind. Immediately upon him sitting down to talk to me I feel better. After dealing with my sister only for days, it was so nice to sit with a professional and have a little chat.
He says my thyroid is doing so good I'll be off the levothyroxine in no time. I did not think I'd be BEATING hypothyroidism. But I am. So all the symptoms were my body dealing with the stress and not having an exit plan etc. My doctor says "Get yourself to Oregon, it's your best bet for getting on T and having the rest done." He proceeds to tell me that he has 3 patients that are wanting to get to Oregon right now. For the same reasons. But they are stuck. I am not stuck. I am going to go. He is only worried about me not having a place to live. I said Doc, you just told me I'm healthy as hell, I'll be ok. As long as it's not winter, and it won't get that cold at night for a couple of months, I'll be fine. I have a sister I never met in California, I could always go visit her for a minute too. I have options. He's only worried about me being homeless, but the rest of our convo he seems to agree that I have thought things out about the transition, he won't give me T now because of all the complications and he'd not be there to see it through. My doc in Oregon is on board since 5 years ago so... this doc thinks I have a good head on my shoulders for it. Soon as I started talking to a normal, educated, intelligent person, I calmed right down and felt quite good and normal. Then I got in the Uber to get home and the guy told me he has a ride service that operates outside and independently of Uber. He drives for Lyft/Uber solely to get clients for the ride service! I took his card. I can't afford 600 to go to Atlanta but I can afford 100 to go to the next city. So there's that.
He said someone hired him to go with them to Birmingham and stay with them all weekend. NICE. I'm jealous. I said I wanted to join haha. That there would be a good job for me. I could do that work.
I could go back to work ! Wow. I Hadn't thought of that in some time but it's true, I can. If I could find a job that didn't try to kill me, let me have some freedom like driving around, I could do it. I could work again.
Huh. That's kind of cool.
He says my thyroid is doing so good I'll be off the levothyroxine in no time. I did not think I'd be BEATING hypothyroidism. But I am. So all the symptoms were my body dealing with the stress and not having an exit plan etc. My doctor says "Get yourself to Oregon, it's your best bet for getting on T and having the rest done." He proceeds to tell me that he has 3 patients that are wanting to get to Oregon right now. For the same reasons. But they are stuck. I am not stuck. I am going to go. He is only worried about me not having a place to live. I said Doc, you just told me I'm healthy as hell, I'll be ok. As long as it's not winter, and it won't get that cold at night for a couple of months, I'll be fine. I have a sister I never met in California, I could always go visit her for a minute too. I have options. He's only worried about me being homeless, but the rest of our convo he seems to agree that I have thought things out about the transition, he won't give me T now because of all the complications and he'd not be there to see it through. My doc in Oregon is on board since 5 years ago so... this doc thinks I have a good head on my shoulders for it. Soon as I started talking to a normal, educated, intelligent person, I calmed right down and felt quite good and normal. Then I got in the Uber to get home and the guy told me he has a ride service that operates outside and independently of Uber. He drives for Lyft/Uber solely to get clients for the ride service! I took his card. I can't afford 600 to go to Atlanta but I can afford 100 to go to the next city. So there's that.
He said someone hired him to go with them to Birmingham and stay with them all weekend. NICE. I'm jealous. I said I wanted to join haha. That there would be a good job for me. I could do that work.
I could go back to work ! Wow. I Hadn't thought of that in some time but it's true, I can. If I could find a job that didn't try to kill me, let me have some freedom like driving around, I could do it. I could work again.
Huh. That's kind of cool.
Funny
I have a need for something to make me laugh uncontrollably. I am going to make a page of funny videos to look at when I am really panicking. Seems to work pretty good and bring back good memories.
Sole Survivor has a stroke -- OR, when the Psycho Jet kicks in
The Humans are dead -- OR, the new Fallout 4 RICK ROLL
Sole Survivor has a stroke -- OR, when the Psycho Jet kicks in
The Humans are dead -- OR, the new Fallout 4 RICK ROLL
People see the thing that they do and they accuse you of it-- because that's all they see through their guilt? or something
Like, if I am a liar, an accomplished one, I'd pick up on other's lies quite easily, since I knew the tricks. I mean, we all lie. But some are so good at it they don't even know they are lying anymore... but they are REALLY good at accusing others of lying, to throw onlookers off to the fact of the matter that the real liar is doing the accusing. This goes for any behavior. And you can use a simpler example to illustrate:
Say I was (am) a highly trained equestrian. I might notice some gestures or clothing items (lapel pins even) that might denote another of my ilk. I'd most certainly mention that I used to show hunters over fences. NOW, that's not a lie, and I am not going to go into the fact that Paper Doll was a murderous cunt of a pony that tried to throw me into the jumps every time. But I did know what I was doing. I just couldn't pick the pony up and make it fly over the rails. So I can talk hunter over fences. I don't need to go into the fact that it was all shit for me. My point being, I can spot another rider. Just as I can spot another trans man. A liar can spot a liar... and a liar looks for certain 'scenarios' that they themselves could manipulate, and realizing the situation could be manipulated, assumes YOU are going to be the one trying whatever it was they thought of. So they head you off at the pass and accuse you of what THEY would do in the situation. And it's gaslighting isn't it? Isn't that gaslighting? It keeps me unstable. I begin to question everything I said. I begin to wonder and I begin to doubt and now I'm in full shame for having my head injuries and what if I really am a piece of shit? And off to my room I go to sit and play video games or type on my stupid fucking idiotic blog. The video games are not cutting it at the moment. I want to be reading. But my vision is still fucked. I think I'm not getting enough protein. Fuck, I'm just flat out not eating. I lost 3 pounds in the past 8 days. My pants are falling off. I can't afford new pants so; I should eat but I can't taste anything. Oh god I'm so hungry but nothing tastes. And this is all in my head, w00000t this is fucking fantastic. I can't wait to read this fucking bullshit saga from the other goddamn side, hopefully somewhere settled and warm and dry and with someone who loves me. That would be totally rad but until then, we keep writing this piecemeal shit just to keep sane, keep the ideas flowing, we'll have to pick through all of this for the book. The book has been rewritten 2x and now I'm thinking a 3rd. I NEVER finish any fucking thing I do (that's a lie, I finish about half of the things I start) so it's going to be refreshing to write a 3rd book after tossing the first two in the stupid bin. I do not do any motherfucking thing according to any kind of standard, I reinvent the fucking wheel every time I get in a car. It's a goddamn CURSE.
It's the same with other things. Like if I am a liar, and hear someone lying, I get to call them out on it knowing full well they are lying because they are using my tactic. (I have lived with 2 narcissists in my life, and enablers and golden children. Learned how to lie AND steal from the BEST, let me tell you. But now, trying to catch lies before they form, I'd like to say I am exorcising that part of my life. A lifelong learned behavior is a HARD habit to break let me just say.)
If a person was an emotionally abusive sibling who reveled in having control over just one disenfranchised person, they are going to call out everything I do that is manipulative, even when it is just me trying to get something I need from her. I might try every avenue and every venue trying to get what I need but that looks like wheedling and manipulation and so I am called out and retreat. And stop asking for what I need. I ask for so little now. I ask for nothing but my food. I can't get my food stamps card. Not without involving the government. She just has to hold on to that one little thing.
But if I post about that I get the card thrown in my face and told that I need to stop spreading my lies on Facebook. If I hadn't posted on Facebook and if the spy in my friends list hadn't told my sister what I was posting, I'd not have gotten my groceries this week. So double edged sword I guess.
All I know is that I have no one to talk to in depth about any of this so I write. It's all I can do, just talk to myself. My therapist is going to be so full of shit and I still go. Because therapy good right? ugh not really. Not this one.
I see my doctor today and hoo boy that's going to be emotional. Far as he knows I've just had a stressful time lately due to my thyroid. He has no idea what baggage is going to follow me in there today and I'm willing to bet I start crying when I tell him about how I've been living since I told her I was leaving. I tell him how narcissistic she is and he nods and yet he's her doctor. I wonder if he believes me. My sister manipulates the assistant to tell her what's in my file too. I could get them all in trouble. My sister is the master manipulator. I know, we both learned from mother. The difference is I know what it is and I want to cut it out of me. My sister refuses to believe it's in her. She's a complete and utter facade, a lie, a robot who goes on auxiliary power when there's no man around to impress. I told her she was basically married to our brother yesterday and that's the weird thing with narcissists...
they never get upset at the OUTRAGEOUS but TRUE statements. Like, I say "You and Donnie are a married couple!" and "All you care about is men who can help you fix your car or computer cheaply" ... that ought to send someone into a RAGE but it just slides by. That's what is deeply disturbing to me. What I get all the flak for is the stupid shit that comes out when I'm enraged and backed into a corner. Her favorite place to put me since it shows me becoming unhinged and unbalanced. And then she can point to how I acted, leaving out her spitting wild tearing-doors-off-hinges shit. Just exactly like mother. And then to tell me I am exactly like mother while I am telling her she is, and that's just the stupidest exchange in the history of fights.
Say I was (am) a highly trained equestrian. I might notice some gestures or clothing items (lapel pins even) that might denote another of my ilk. I'd most certainly mention that I used to show hunters over fences. NOW, that's not a lie, and I am not going to go into the fact that Paper Doll was a murderous cunt of a pony that tried to throw me into the jumps every time. But I did know what I was doing. I just couldn't pick the pony up and make it fly over the rails. So I can talk hunter over fences. I don't need to go into the fact that it was all shit for me. My point being, I can spot another rider. Just as I can spot another trans man. A liar can spot a liar... and a liar looks for certain 'scenarios' that they themselves could manipulate, and realizing the situation could be manipulated, assumes YOU are going to be the one trying whatever it was they thought of. So they head you off at the pass and accuse you of what THEY would do in the situation. And it's gaslighting isn't it? Isn't that gaslighting? It keeps me unstable. I begin to question everything I said. I begin to wonder and I begin to doubt and now I'm in full shame for having my head injuries and what if I really am a piece of shit? And off to my room I go to sit and play video games or type on my stupid fucking idiotic blog. The video games are not cutting it at the moment. I want to be reading. But my vision is still fucked. I think I'm not getting enough protein. Fuck, I'm just flat out not eating. I lost 3 pounds in the past 8 days. My pants are falling off. I can't afford new pants so; I should eat but I can't taste anything. Oh god I'm so hungry but nothing tastes. And this is all in my head, w00000t this is fucking fantastic. I can't wait to read this fucking bullshit saga from the other goddamn side, hopefully somewhere settled and warm and dry and with someone who loves me. That would be totally rad but until then, we keep writing this piecemeal shit just to keep sane, keep the ideas flowing, we'll have to pick through all of this for the book. The book has been rewritten 2x and now I'm thinking a 3rd. I NEVER finish any fucking thing I do (that's a lie, I finish about half of the things I start) so it's going to be refreshing to write a 3rd book after tossing the first two in the stupid bin. I do not do any motherfucking thing according to any kind of standard, I reinvent the fucking wheel every time I get in a car. It's a goddamn CURSE.
It's the same with other things. Like if I am a liar, and hear someone lying, I get to call them out on it knowing full well they are lying because they are using my tactic. (I have lived with 2 narcissists in my life, and enablers and golden children. Learned how to lie AND steal from the BEST, let me tell you. But now, trying to catch lies before they form, I'd like to say I am exorcising that part of my life. A lifelong learned behavior is a HARD habit to break let me just say.)
If a person was an emotionally abusive sibling who reveled in having control over just one disenfranchised person, they are going to call out everything I do that is manipulative, even when it is just me trying to get something I need from her. I might try every avenue and every venue trying to get what I need but that looks like wheedling and manipulation and so I am called out and retreat. And stop asking for what I need. I ask for so little now. I ask for nothing but my food. I can't get my food stamps card. Not without involving the government. She just has to hold on to that one little thing.
But if I post about that I get the card thrown in my face and told that I need to stop spreading my lies on Facebook. If I hadn't posted on Facebook and if the spy in my friends list hadn't told my sister what I was posting, I'd not have gotten my groceries this week. So double edged sword I guess.
All I know is that I have no one to talk to in depth about any of this so I write. It's all I can do, just talk to myself. My therapist is going to be so full of shit and I still go. Because therapy good right? ugh not really. Not this one.
I see my doctor today and hoo boy that's going to be emotional. Far as he knows I've just had a stressful time lately due to my thyroid. He has no idea what baggage is going to follow me in there today and I'm willing to bet I start crying when I tell him about how I've been living since I told her I was leaving. I tell him how narcissistic she is and he nods and yet he's her doctor. I wonder if he believes me. My sister manipulates the assistant to tell her what's in my file too. I could get them all in trouble. My sister is the master manipulator. I know, we both learned from mother. The difference is I know what it is and I want to cut it out of me. My sister refuses to believe it's in her. She's a complete and utter facade, a lie, a robot who goes on auxiliary power when there's no man around to impress. I told her she was basically married to our brother yesterday and that's the weird thing with narcissists...
they never get upset at the OUTRAGEOUS but TRUE statements. Like, I say "You and Donnie are a married couple!" and "All you care about is men who can help you fix your car or computer cheaply" ... that ought to send someone into a RAGE but it just slides by. That's what is deeply disturbing to me. What I get all the flak for is the stupid shit that comes out when I'm enraged and backed into a corner. Her favorite place to put me since it shows me becoming unhinged and unbalanced. And then she can point to how I acted, leaving out her spitting wild tearing-doors-off-hinges shit. Just exactly like mother. And then to tell me I am exactly like mother while I am telling her she is, and that's just the stupidest exchange in the history of fights.
I can't communicate
It's gotta be me. I mean, doesn't it have to be me, if everyone is mad at me, and distancing themselves, yes, it's me then. Ok, how can I get across what is going on in my head?
My sister is a narcissist and the effects of her personality (if you can call it that) on my psyche are far-reaching when you consider decades of programming. I literally get paralyzed around her, and to break the paralysis it takes a LOT of fortitude and I am reaching deep for that shit right now. I have to go over the top -- way over-- angry to the point of spouting actual nonsense right up in her face. I say the most idiotic and made up crap. If it was anyone else I'd assume they too were just mad and making up dumb shit to say in anger but this one, this one definitely believes what she's saying. I DO mean it however when I call her a full blown narcissist and tell her that she is going to die alone surrounded by all her precious knick knacks... just like our mother is going to do and just like her mother before her and her mother before her. Old crones all that rotted away in obscurity left to die by their families. And now we know why. That is not going to be me. Many is the time I have imagined it, the slow drop from a tall building or the long walk into the sea. That's quite the risky gamble however,
... trying to grow old as long as you can without passing over that line where they park you in a nursing home and you have lost your personal freedom and are now governed by others. How would I end it then? I'd have to end it before that happened. But, no matter how or when it happens, it won't be me in a bed surrounded by junk and a couple of offspring hoping you actually stowed a bit of money away somewhere and are going to leave it to them. Ho! naw, I'll be hopefully found curled up in a ball in the snow in Alaska (If there's any snow left by then) having just walked out into a blizzard naked to die like a free human. No undertaker or oven for me thank you. Let my bones and bits feed the bears and may my bear-host be nourished mightily. But please, do not let the bear start to eat me before I am dead. That is what I hope for. One cannot speak for the bear.
***********
What I would like to know, and what I suppose my stupid therapist will not be able to figure out this decade, is why I am SO paralyzed by my sister's presence. At my age, with the experiences I have had (rugby, military, cowboi, et cetera), I'd not be afraid of a middle aged sister that is shorter than me and out of shape (more so than me!). Others see her as the most generous, sweetest stage manager, or the kindest, most caring caregiver. They do not see the vitriol that spews forth when ever we get into the past. Which is, of course, OK for HER to bring up, but if I do it, not relevant, move on. I cannot win, gave up on winning and now don't even know what game it is. Now, I'm just trying to keep my piece on the board, and she keeps setting it back even if it's not her turn.
My sister erases all traces of me the moment I have passed through a room.
At first I thought this was her OCD or anal retentive or whatever it is called; I'd joke about how I'd fuck with her by moving a knick knack slightly-- she'd immediately arise and move it back to it's normal position the moment she spotted the error. But as the years wore on I began to realize that she was erasing all traces of me the moment I'd passed through any given room. IF I had washed dishes and put them in the sink drainer, she re-arranges them. IF I have left a pan on the stove top to soak a bit and cool off while I eat, she moves it. Into the sink, or if it was in the sink, she puts it on the stove top. IF I move the blinds up, she puts them down a bit. If I put the vacuum cleaner away, she goes and puts it away properly. If I set something down in any room but my room, it gets put in my bathroom (which she refuses to call "MY" bathroom and insists on calling the GUEST bathroom. I'm not allowed to pick my own towels or put up a whimsical shower curtain) for me to put away in my room. No trace of me to be found out in the rest of the apartment, with the exception of one picture of me on the fridge, with grandmother. NOT one picture of me as an adult on the fridge and come to think of it, NOT ONE picture on the fridge of ANY of us OLDER adults. No pictures allowed to be seen hanging around where she is seen as "OLD". Her profile pictures are all of her much younger or they are fantasy paintings. You don't' see her real face in her FB pictures either.
So when I go out of my room I am in HER apartment. I am forced to use all her dishes and all her pots and pans and she has so many plates and glasses and tupperware containers and gadgets and shit, there is no space left for anything of mine. And she's got this system, everything in its place, which is great, except.. there are too many things. To try to get or find something you have to know where it is OR pull EVERYTHING out... which is fine, BUT... if you dont put it back properly, you're fucked. So it gets me all totally anxious trying to figure out which container she'd want me to put something in. IF I put it in any container, it's the wrong one. She'll change it out for me though. But she won't tell me what container she switched it to. So I have to hunt for it in the 'fridge.
Sis has zero boundaries so when I am cooking and using a very sharp knife she will absolutely just barge right in and weasel her way in to get to the sink, NOT SEEING that I have a big chef's knife in my hand and am chopping. I stop and hold still and stare at the wall. She's nudged me aside. While I was chopping, the idiot. NO SENSE OF HER SURROUNDINGS, or... is she that vindictive? I'll never know. I only know that I hate cooking when she is around so now I do my cooking at lunch only. Dinner is cold something or other. If I eat dinner. Good lord, I can't taste anything! For so long here I thought I wasn't eating because I had a crush but good grief, I'm still not eating. It's just that I don't taste anything, and it seems like too much trouble to cook, and my sister is always cooking really yummy SMELLING things but I go in to cook, having gotten an appetite from her cooking, and I just can't, because she's in there. So I go sit down in my room to wait and by the time she's done, I'm just not even interested any more.
When I write this it sounds like some really harsh deep depression type shit. But deep inside I'm still me, happy enough, despite the circumstances. Here I find myself having pushed away all but a tiny core of people in my life, even Karen is distancing. I know that is happening. I also know it's all I can do to keep my head above the waterline here, it's why I am writing and not playing video games right now. I want to remember it all. I've....
I've isolated myself for the past 4 years having given up entirely on life and just succumbed to my sister's will because it was easier to give up than to stand up to her. In that 4 years I learned how to build computers, mod Fallout 4, manipulate game files, maintain a PC, clean it etc. I learned a lot of Spanish words and phrases, I made some online friends, but mostly, I learned a lot about my self. The deeper I go the messier it gets but the good news is, I'm kind of a blank slate when it comes to new experiences. Wide open to them. And to new people. Forming rooted tribes or tribal experiences may not be for me. At least it doesn't look like it at present. There's a reason Stephen Elliot is my favorite author-- we're vagabonds. Barreling through life sometimes, others simpering. But moving forward, learning, thinking, being. Soon, I'll be doing.
Old ways love to entrench, and some of these behaviors are dug deep after getting rooted for 4 years. But I'm aware and I'm trying not to beat myself up. Don't I keep starting over? Don't I keep picking it up and making it better than before? While I do miss the safety and security of the job at the hospital, I do not miss the simpering writhing mess I was inside then. What a coward I was!
Another situation where, because I had promised not to leave, I could not leave when I wanted to. Bren was cheating on me, I knew it, and I should have fucking bolted before winter hit. Leaving her duplex in the middle of a blizzard to drive to Ted Steven's airport-- then leaving the car in the lot. For good. I remember looking at my dog tags hanging from the rear view and thinking: "I am too sad to even bother". Just got out and left them hanging. It's a miracle they found their way back to me. And every time I go to Tillamook I look for that stupid car. I wonder if it still has the bumper sticker "Alaska Girls Kick Ass" heh heh. I cant put that on my car now can I? Although I'm not going to own another car I guess.
Honestly I am at a crossroads. And I may need to reinvent myself because this is a real low loser type of situation here. I mean I CAN SEE how it looks from outside this bedroom. I can see how crazy I sound to just about everyone. I can hear myself screaming inside half the time. It's sort of like that disease where you can hear and see everything but you cant move or speak ... I feel like I can see what is going on inside me, I know why it's happening, I understand how it got this way, I understand how I let it happen. I understand it's all my fault, I get it. I know that this is not going to be an easy fix and I have to find a compassionate place to land and when I do land I can't fuck it up with my anger. I'm only angry at myself and my sister but mostly myself because it took 3 and 3/4 years to realize what I have become. I'm pathetic. I know that. But M has some real empathy for my plight and will take all my boxes and the computer. I'd sell the computer but it took me a year to save up for the parts. I don't think I can do without a PC for that long although a detox will certainly be in order when I get out of here.
Honestly I didn't really think about it before but my transition is being met with some real typical drama like sis dead naming me and me freaking out in every way possible about this or that to do with transition and getting to Oregon is like ... you know, OREGON OR BUST! all us poor trans want to go to Portland, it's where we are accepted. It IS a total freakout telling everyone what you are when you are just figuring it out.
Solidarity with every poor sap who ever realized they were trans and just wanted to be like all the other happy little trans... lucky bastards. Sometimes-- of course! -- I wish I'd never heard or seen any transgender people. I wish I did not know that some have found happiness by transitioning to the other gender. Because mostly I despair of ever being at home in my body, and I despair of being at home in my brain. At least if I got some help from the medical community in this I could feel a little bit of peace within. when I look at the picture of me with the photoshopped beard, I smile for real. I sort of smirk even. That 's me. But right now I'm a floppy titted splotchy skinned bow legged crooked teeth bent nose twat that lives in essentially their mom's basement and plays with the computer and the cat all day and all night.
the other thing I learned while I've been SO ONLINE for SO LONG? I'll talk about that in another post. [EXTREMELY ONLINE] [or: what's up with the youth and their acronyms and shit]
My sister is a narcissist and the effects of her personality (if you can call it that) on my psyche are far-reaching when you consider decades of programming. I literally get paralyzed around her, and to break the paralysis it takes a LOT of fortitude and I am reaching deep for that shit right now. I have to go over the top -- way over-- angry to the point of spouting actual nonsense right up in her face. I say the most idiotic and made up crap. If it was anyone else I'd assume they too were just mad and making up dumb shit to say in anger but this one, this one definitely believes what she's saying. I DO mean it however when I call her a full blown narcissist and tell her that she is going to die alone surrounded by all her precious knick knacks... just like our mother is going to do and just like her mother before her and her mother before her. Old crones all that rotted away in obscurity left to die by their families. And now we know why. That is not going to be me. Many is the time I have imagined it, the slow drop from a tall building or the long walk into the sea. That's quite the risky gamble however,
... trying to grow old as long as you can without passing over that line where they park you in a nursing home and you have lost your personal freedom and are now governed by others. How would I end it then? I'd have to end it before that happened. But, no matter how or when it happens, it won't be me in a bed surrounded by junk and a couple of offspring hoping you actually stowed a bit of money away somewhere and are going to leave it to them. Ho! naw, I'll be hopefully found curled up in a ball in the snow in Alaska (If there's any snow left by then) having just walked out into a blizzard naked to die like a free human. No undertaker or oven for me thank you. Let my bones and bits feed the bears and may my bear-host be nourished mightily. But please, do not let the bear start to eat me before I am dead. That is what I hope for. One cannot speak for the bear.
***********
What I would like to know, and what I suppose my stupid therapist will not be able to figure out this decade, is why I am SO paralyzed by my sister's presence. At my age, with the experiences I have had (rugby, military, cowboi, et cetera), I'd not be afraid of a middle aged sister that is shorter than me and out of shape (more so than me!). Others see her as the most generous, sweetest stage manager, or the kindest, most caring caregiver. They do not see the vitriol that spews forth when ever we get into the past. Which is, of course, OK for HER to bring up, but if I do it, not relevant, move on. I cannot win, gave up on winning and now don't even know what game it is. Now, I'm just trying to keep my piece on the board, and she keeps setting it back even if it's not her turn.
My sister erases all traces of me the moment I have passed through a room.
At first I thought this was her OCD or anal retentive or whatever it is called; I'd joke about how I'd fuck with her by moving a knick knack slightly-- she'd immediately arise and move it back to it's normal position the moment she spotted the error. But as the years wore on I began to realize that she was erasing all traces of me the moment I'd passed through any given room. IF I had washed dishes and put them in the sink drainer, she re-arranges them. IF I have left a pan on the stove top to soak a bit and cool off while I eat, she moves it. Into the sink, or if it was in the sink, she puts it on the stove top. IF I move the blinds up, she puts them down a bit. If I put the vacuum cleaner away, she goes and puts it away properly. If I set something down in any room but my room, it gets put in my bathroom (which she refuses to call "MY" bathroom and insists on calling the GUEST bathroom. I'm not allowed to pick my own towels or put up a whimsical shower curtain) for me to put away in my room. No trace of me to be found out in the rest of the apartment, with the exception of one picture of me on the fridge, with grandmother. NOT one picture of me as an adult on the fridge and come to think of it, NOT ONE picture on the fridge of ANY of us OLDER adults. No pictures allowed to be seen hanging around where she is seen as "OLD". Her profile pictures are all of her much younger or they are fantasy paintings. You don't' see her real face in her FB pictures either.
So when I go out of my room I am in HER apartment. I am forced to use all her dishes and all her pots and pans and she has so many plates and glasses and tupperware containers and gadgets and shit, there is no space left for anything of mine. And she's got this system, everything in its place, which is great, except.. there are too many things. To try to get or find something you have to know where it is OR pull EVERYTHING out... which is fine, BUT... if you dont put it back properly, you're fucked. So it gets me all totally anxious trying to figure out which container she'd want me to put something in. IF I put it in any container, it's the wrong one. She'll change it out for me though. But she won't tell me what container she switched it to. So I have to hunt for it in the 'fridge.
Sis has zero boundaries so when I am cooking and using a very sharp knife she will absolutely just barge right in and weasel her way in to get to the sink, NOT SEEING that I have a big chef's knife in my hand and am chopping. I stop and hold still and stare at the wall. She's nudged me aside. While I was chopping, the idiot. NO SENSE OF HER SURROUNDINGS, or... is she that vindictive? I'll never know. I only know that I hate cooking when she is around so now I do my cooking at lunch only. Dinner is cold something or other. If I eat dinner. Good lord, I can't taste anything! For so long here I thought I wasn't eating because I had a crush but good grief, I'm still not eating. It's just that I don't taste anything, and it seems like too much trouble to cook, and my sister is always cooking really yummy SMELLING things but I go in to cook, having gotten an appetite from her cooking, and I just can't, because she's in there. So I go sit down in my room to wait and by the time she's done, I'm just not even interested any more.
When I write this it sounds like some really harsh deep depression type shit. But deep inside I'm still me, happy enough, despite the circumstances. Here I find myself having pushed away all but a tiny core of people in my life, even Karen is distancing. I know that is happening. I also know it's all I can do to keep my head above the waterline here, it's why I am writing and not playing video games right now. I want to remember it all. I've....
I've isolated myself for the past 4 years having given up entirely on life and just succumbed to my sister's will because it was easier to give up than to stand up to her. In that 4 years I learned how to build computers, mod Fallout 4, manipulate game files, maintain a PC, clean it etc. I learned a lot of Spanish words and phrases, I made some online friends, but mostly, I learned a lot about my self. The deeper I go the messier it gets but the good news is, I'm kind of a blank slate when it comes to new experiences. Wide open to them. And to new people. Forming rooted tribes or tribal experiences may not be for me. At least it doesn't look like it at present. There's a reason Stephen Elliot is my favorite author-- we're vagabonds. Barreling through life sometimes, others simpering. But moving forward, learning, thinking, being. Soon, I'll be doing.
Old ways love to entrench, and some of these behaviors are dug deep after getting rooted for 4 years. But I'm aware and I'm trying not to beat myself up. Don't I keep starting over? Don't I keep picking it up and making it better than before? While I do miss the safety and security of the job at the hospital, I do not miss the simpering writhing mess I was inside then. What a coward I was!
Another situation where, because I had promised not to leave, I could not leave when I wanted to. Bren was cheating on me, I knew it, and I should have fucking bolted before winter hit. Leaving her duplex in the middle of a blizzard to drive to Ted Steven's airport-- then leaving the car in the lot. For good. I remember looking at my dog tags hanging from the rear view and thinking: "I am too sad to even bother". Just got out and left them hanging. It's a miracle they found their way back to me. And every time I go to Tillamook I look for that stupid car. I wonder if it still has the bumper sticker "Alaska Girls Kick Ass" heh heh. I cant put that on my car now can I? Although I'm not going to own another car I guess.
Honestly I am at a crossroads. And I may need to reinvent myself because this is a real low loser type of situation here. I mean I CAN SEE how it looks from outside this bedroom. I can see how crazy I sound to just about everyone. I can hear myself screaming inside half the time. It's sort of like that disease where you can hear and see everything but you cant move or speak ... I feel like I can see what is going on inside me, I know why it's happening, I understand how it got this way, I understand how I let it happen. I understand it's all my fault, I get it. I know that this is not going to be an easy fix and I have to find a compassionate place to land and when I do land I can't fuck it up with my anger. I'm only angry at myself and my sister but mostly myself because it took 3 and 3/4 years to realize what I have become. I'm pathetic. I know that. But M has some real empathy for my plight and will take all my boxes and the computer. I'd sell the computer but it took me a year to save up for the parts. I don't think I can do without a PC for that long although a detox will certainly be in order when I get out of here.
Honestly I didn't really think about it before but my transition is being met with some real typical drama like sis dead naming me and me freaking out in every way possible about this or that to do with transition and getting to Oregon is like ... you know, OREGON OR BUST! all us poor trans want to go to Portland, it's where we are accepted. It IS a total freakout telling everyone what you are when you are just figuring it out.
Solidarity with every poor sap who ever realized they were trans and just wanted to be like all the other happy little trans... lucky bastards. Sometimes-- of course! -- I wish I'd never heard or seen any transgender people. I wish I did not know that some have found happiness by transitioning to the other gender. Because mostly I despair of ever being at home in my body, and I despair of being at home in my brain. At least if I got some help from the medical community in this I could feel a little bit of peace within. when I look at the picture of me with the photoshopped beard, I smile for real. I sort of smirk even. That 's me. But right now I'm a floppy titted splotchy skinned bow legged crooked teeth bent nose twat that lives in essentially their mom's basement and plays with the computer and the cat all day and all night.
the other thing I learned while I've been SO ONLINE for SO LONG? I'll talk about that in another post. [EXTREMELY ONLINE] [or: what's up with the youth and their acronyms and shit]
Tuesday, August 20, 2019
Revelation
One of my subs today, had a thread about how some narcissist parents will be so jealous of the child's innate talents that the parent will flat out forbid the child to do the thing it's good at. Then there are the really subtly undermining parents like my mother who instead of flat out forbidding the activity,
they push you so hard you end up quitting in frustration, unable to ever be perfect -- as perfect as the parent is trying to make you be. And after reading that I was truly gobsmacked. All over that thread we were talking about how our parent pushed us so hard on this or that talent; and I remembered how I was supposed to be absolutely perfect to the point of not having a lick of fun or enjoying anything about any aspect of certain competitive activities. It always depended on if it was something my mother wanted to be seen as good at or not. Take for instance: bareback riding. My mother cared not a whit about bareback riding so I could be the best at that. The very best! But put that saddle on and start riding English or Western Equitation, now we have to be perfect. All the life sapped out of everything to do with formal horse shows. Fuck that noise. One day after her hounding me to practice again I just threw the saddle down and never put it back on again. From that day forward, I rode only bareback. Ditto guitar. I always wondered why I quit guitar... then today I remembered. I tried to do it perfectly but my hands were too small and I was always struggling. Why I let Karen send me this huge guitar I'll never know. In fact my hands would lock up, I remember now. I think I was reading something about that on reddit not too long ago: people's hands locking up due to practicing too much. I seem to have forgotten everything I learned too, put it out of my mind.
Mother never wanted to play the trumpet so I could get really good at that. When mother could not (would not) afford lessons anymore, I stopped practicing.
Painting. Mother was on the fence about painting. So my paintings were 'ok'. But my pastels... she loved pastels. My pastel was... not her cup of tea. She didn't like it in fact. And when I made a sculpture... she had to be the one to finish it. It was not 'mine'. She took zero interest in my videos, zero interest in my book. Two things she did not care about: writing and videotape.
When my mother cast me as 'Anybody's ' in West Side Story... she pretty much did not direct me. I directed myself -- I thought that was odd. She exalted me when my Alto Tenor voice filled in a very large gap in a song during "Bye Bye Birdie" ; it was great that I could play a guy wearing a mechanic's outfit and singing that note none of the young boys could hit yet. But it was not ok if I dressed like at home. It never had been. Not because my mother cared what I wore, but because she cared what others thought. I was allowed to be the best actor I could be and not get 'rehearsed to death' because I was not playing any roles she cared about: I was doing men's roles. Except for Anybody's, but my mother would never have had any interest in playing a Tomboy. She did however make a killer WITCH. In Hansel & Gretel I played a HENCHMAN. Again, a small side part in which she had no interest and therefore could be magnanimous and praise me to no end. It was a simple, stupid part but I stole the show with an ad lib every night.
So there were so many things she pushed me to perfection on and that I would quit. I see it now -- a pattern emerges. She finds out how to make me quit asap and then ! More money for her. This is also evidenced by the money she took from me "to buy groceries" when I had saved up 50 bucks to buy a calf for 4-H.
This was going to be my first calf, my first 4-H event: county fair! But alas, no calf for me, no 4-H. I was so excited about the thought of hanging out with other farm girls or boys, in overalls, raising a calf. When I saw her pocket that 50 bucks...
*****
I found the reddit thread: Push and Sabotage. Oh man what a gut punch. Thinking back to the rides to and from the guitar lessons: why was I dissociating so hard in the back seat? What was going on in the front seat that I had to disassociate entirely the whole way to and from, pretending I was that guy from 'Wild Wild West'... tied up in the back seat of the car about to be eviscerated by a swinging saw pendulum, or the like.
What were they talking about, or doing, or why was the car ride so traumatic that I had to disassociate both ways? *strokes chin*. I remember the car rides to the Beckman's for riding lessons, they were not traumatic. Oh...because mother was not around. Someone else drove... and here again, SURELY mother knew about Paper Doll. Knowing that mother was the one who wanted to be seen as the horse whisperer, it falls into line that she bought me the worst jumper in the history of jumpers. Paper Doll was a pony that was supposedly worth 1500 dollars USd due to her bloodlines. But the pony would NOT jump a jump in a horse show. I could not get her over the jumps. It was HORRIBLY humiliating. I was a very good rider over fences. I still am. But you cannot force a pony over a jump. My show jumping career was dead in the water before it began and my mother KNEW THAT.
My sister washed my jumping habit -- my habit was something that felt right to me. I wore it with pride, it felt right. It felt good. A nice black wool habit coat and she washed it and it shrank. To this day she says she didn't know you could not wash wool but by that time she was quite the accomplished laundry person. No way that was an accident: same as when she cut my hair. I had a braid down to my ass. My sister cut it all off one day. I had not remembered that since it happened.
Well it's good I can start remembering some stuff from childhood now. It'll be good to suss it all out.
they push you so hard you end up quitting in frustration, unable to ever be perfect -- as perfect as the parent is trying to make you be. And after reading that I was truly gobsmacked. All over that thread we were talking about how our parent pushed us so hard on this or that talent; and I remembered how I was supposed to be absolutely perfect to the point of not having a lick of fun or enjoying anything about any aspect of certain competitive activities. It always depended on if it was something my mother wanted to be seen as good at or not. Take for instance: bareback riding. My mother cared not a whit about bareback riding so I could be the best at that. The very best! But put that saddle on and start riding English or Western Equitation, now we have to be perfect. All the life sapped out of everything to do with formal horse shows. Fuck that noise. One day after her hounding me to practice again I just threw the saddle down and never put it back on again. From that day forward, I rode only bareback. Ditto guitar. I always wondered why I quit guitar... then today I remembered. I tried to do it perfectly but my hands were too small and I was always struggling. Why I let Karen send me this huge guitar I'll never know. In fact my hands would lock up, I remember now. I think I was reading something about that on reddit not too long ago: people's hands locking up due to practicing too much. I seem to have forgotten everything I learned too, put it out of my mind.
Mother never wanted to play the trumpet so I could get really good at that. When mother could not (would not) afford lessons anymore, I stopped practicing.
Painting. Mother was on the fence about painting. So my paintings were 'ok'. But my pastels... she loved pastels. My pastel was... not her cup of tea. She didn't like it in fact. And when I made a sculpture... she had to be the one to finish it. It was not 'mine'. She took zero interest in my videos, zero interest in my book. Two things she did not care about: writing and videotape.
When my mother cast me as 'Anybody's ' in West Side Story... she pretty much did not direct me. I directed myself -- I thought that was odd. She exalted me when my Alto Tenor voice filled in a very large gap in a song during "Bye Bye Birdie" ; it was great that I could play a guy wearing a mechanic's outfit and singing that note none of the young boys could hit yet. But it was not ok if I dressed like at home. It never had been. Not because my mother cared what I wore, but because she cared what others thought. I was allowed to be the best actor I could be and not get 'rehearsed to death' because I was not playing any roles she cared about: I was doing men's roles. Except for Anybody's, but my mother would never have had any interest in playing a Tomboy. She did however make a killer WITCH. In Hansel & Gretel I played a HENCHMAN. Again, a small side part in which she had no interest and therefore could be magnanimous and praise me to no end. It was a simple, stupid part but I stole the show with an ad lib every night.
So there were so many things she pushed me to perfection on and that I would quit. I see it now -- a pattern emerges. She finds out how to make me quit asap and then ! More money for her. This is also evidenced by the money she took from me "to buy groceries" when I had saved up 50 bucks to buy a calf for 4-H.
This was going to be my first calf, my first 4-H event: county fair! But alas, no calf for me, no 4-H. I was so excited about the thought of hanging out with other farm girls or boys, in overalls, raising a calf. When I saw her pocket that 50 bucks...
*****
I found the reddit thread: Push and Sabotage. Oh man what a gut punch. Thinking back to the rides to and from the guitar lessons: why was I dissociating so hard in the back seat? What was going on in the front seat that I had to disassociate entirely the whole way to and from, pretending I was that guy from 'Wild Wild West'... tied up in the back seat of the car about to be eviscerated by a swinging saw pendulum, or the like.
What were they talking about, or doing, or why was the car ride so traumatic that I had to disassociate both ways? *strokes chin*. I remember the car rides to the Beckman's for riding lessons, they were not traumatic. Oh...because mother was not around. Someone else drove... and here again, SURELY mother knew about Paper Doll. Knowing that mother was the one who wanted to be seen as the horse whisperer, it falls into line that she bought me the worst jumper in the history of jumpers. Paper Doll was a pony that was supposedly worth 1500 dollars USd due to her bloodlines. But the pony would NOT jump a jump in a horse show. I could not get her over the jumps. It was HORRIBLY humiliating. I was a very good rider over fences. I still am. But you cannot force a pony over a jump. My show jumping career was dead in the water before it began and my mother KNEW THAT.
My sister washed my jumping habit -- my habit was something that felt right to me. I wore it with pride, it felt right. It felt good. A nice black wool habit coat and she washed it and it shrank. To this day she says she didn't know you could not wash wool but by that time she was quite the accomplished laundry person. No way that was an accident: same as when she cut my hair. I had a braid down to my ass. My sister cut it all off one day. I had not remembered that since it happened.
Well it's good I can start remembering some stuff from childhood now. It'll be good to suss it all out.
I feel like I helped someone.
Scary as it is, I made a Facebook page that is for Huntsville, Alabama: a Huntsville Antifa page. Yes I did. I looked at other states, other cities, they all had a lone page, curated by most likely one person like me, just trying to shine a beacon in the dark.
After a few days, one person liked it, there is one lone soul in this city that is also antifa, and brave enough to share the posts from the page. So I wrote to him to ask him if he wanted to co-mod the page, haven't heard back. But I did gank some memes from his page and shared them on my main. I want this person to know they are not alone in being anti-fascist. I wish I could have seen his face when he saw the page. Must have been like when I found out Sunday is antifa. Although I suspect she does not go to the Proud Boy rallys. Oh man I have missed seeing Sunday up there with the flag.
Found a place to put the boxes: M's house in Birmingham. Why didn't I ask her sooner? She said, anything I needed. I said I'd like to visit (never seen more than a picture of her house) but she's got the kids, and they would not understand. But my boxes will be safe. And my computer. Although I could send the computer to Travis's... I doubt Karen would like to see me hanging out at Travis's house. She's going to have to get used to it though. Trav was my buddy and keeps asking when I'm coming back. Not my fault he lives next door. Karen is being standoffish now. she's going to have to get over the fact I want to be in Portland. I cant imagine the size of her ego to think I'm coming back just to be near her. I don't really want to hang out with her that much... and I'm certain I won't feel the same way I did before now that she's turning into 'the other half' of her partner. I see her losing her personality. I'm bummed, but it happens. I think her partner is settling in and putting her foot down on things. Good for them. I just want to see the dogs honestly. If they aren't up for that, fuck it.
Not even sure I'm headed that way now. Once my boxes are away to M's house I am footloose. The question will be what mode of transport and where do I point it? My sister, so amazingly out of touch, suggests a rental car. My credit cards are long gone, sis. I used them to pay rent back in Portland when my body was giving out and I was waiting for disability. I told Karen about that yesterday... that that is how I lost my credit. I was too afraid to tell her back then; and I never got my credit back since. Just gave up on it. She's now mad because she thinks I am blaming her. I'm not. It's just that she had told me to my face "No partner of mine is going to be on disability"... and now she doesn't remember saying that. It's not her fault that I let a statement like that keep me from seeing the lawyer when I first knew I couldn't work much longer. But she did say it. I was just trying to explain something to her. I was dreading work to the point of wanting to walk in front of a bus. I told her that I could not go to this job much longer.
This was after Joel's death. Joel's death fucked her up I know; and it made it so that when I mentioned feeling suicidal due to having to go to a job that was killing me, she refused to hear it. So I kept it to myself: struggled along by myself. At this time, I was not able to afford the co-pays AND bus for therapy, as I did not have disability yet and was living off 3 credit cards. Not telling Karen this, going to work when I could but mostly just not going to work and trying to figure something out. We had some fights, and when we fought she went stone. I never knew how to react. I'd walk home and come back an hour later to find her in the same position, like a crying stone. And later she would tell me that it nearly killed her when I walked off to go home to cool off. After that she started making me promise never to leave her, ever. Of course I said I would not.
Karen now has some kind of mad on and thinks I am blaming her for my credit. If I blamed her wouldnt' I have brought that ammo out long ago during one of our hours - long volatile e-mail matches? She doesn't remember. Omg she doesn't remember how she'd write me one volatile e-mail, drunk as a lord, I'd react, begging her to be kind and not mean, and BOOM off we'd GO. For HOURS and HOURS and me not even drinking and her drinking for days. I could not not engage-- not at first. I had to learn to turn the phone off and not open the laptop. I'd have to wait 3 days.
Of course, I did this to her as well. My rejoinders were not as well thought out, and mean though. I began to see how her and Reptyler might have had some real blow-outs. Like that one time I was in college and Karen called me on my cell, crying. It was 3 p.m. in the afternoon and she was blitzed. When asked what was wrong -- she said "TYLER sent me an e-mail" and I'm OH GOD HERE WE GO. 3 p.m. and I have a class and an hour is not enough time for this, I had to promise to call her after class. That Tyler thing went on and on the whole time we were in a LDR-- you know, there were no doubt as many red flags for me with K-chop as there must have been for her with me. Why did we both ignore them? Because we really needed each other. But I think she needed me more than I needed her; since in the end, it was me that had to find a way to get her to throw me out. I had promised not to leave her-- so I made her throw me out. Now, all these years later, she's finally turning from me to her partner. I suppose it was inevitable and I'm kind of , no hugely relieved. I really am free now.
B. wants me to come to Queens or the Bronx or whatever it is. I am so tempted. I haven't been to NYC since the 80s. I'd like to see it sans Richard. You know, the people in my past were not the greatest. I wasn't the greatest. I'm definitely not the greatest now. But I always land on my feet. If I can keep Wanda from breathing down my neck... if I could find out who is spying on my FB page for her, I'd be happy. I have 5000 people to go through. For which she mocked me. She mocked me for having the full 5000 'friends' -- mostly for spreading political information. I have Fallout friends and they take up about 1 percent then the rest is political. I have unfriended most of my IRL friends to make room for people interested in politics. My sister mocks me for that. "All my Bernie friends". I know 5000 people that like Bernie Sanders. I think that's kind of neat, that we all want to learn about what is going on in the world and help each other do that. My sister thinks it's stupid.
None of it seems very stupid to me.
After a few days, one person liked it, there is one lone soul in this city that is also antifa, and brave enough to share the posts from the page. So I wrote to him to ask him if he wanted to co-mod the page, haven't heard back. But I did gank some memes from his page and shared them on my main. I want this person to know they are not alone in being anti-fascist. I wish I could have seen his face when he saw the page. Must have been like when I found out Sunday is antifa. Although I suspect she does not go to the Proud Boy rallys. Oh man I have missed seeing Sunday up there with the flag.
Found a place to put the boxes: M's house in Birmingham. Why didn't I ask her sooner? She said, anything I needed. I said I'd like to visit (never seen more than a picture of her house) but she's got the kids, and they would not understand. But my boxes will be safe. And my computer. Although I could send the computer to Travis's... I doubt Karen would like to see me hanging out at Travis's house. She's going to have to get used to it though. Trav was my buddy and keeps asking when I'm coming back. Not my fault he lives next door. Karen is being standoffish now. she's going to have to get over the fact I want to be in Portland. I cant imagine the size of her ego to think I'm coming back just to be near her. I don't really want to hang out with her that much... and I'm certain I won't feel the same way I did before now that she's turning into 'the other half' of her partner. I see her losing her personality. I'm bummed, but it happens. I think her partner is settling in and putting her foot down on things. Good for them. I just want to see the dogs honestly. If they aren't up for that, fuck it.
Not even sure I'm headed that way now. Once my boxes are away to M's house I am footloose. The question will be what mode of transport and where do I point it? My sister, so amazingly out of touch, suggests a rental car. My credit cards are long gone, sis. I used them to pay rent back in Portland when my body was giving out and I was waiting for disability. I told Karen about that yesterday... that that is how I lost my credit. I was too afraid to tell her back then; and I never got my credit back since. Just gave up on it. She's now mad because she thinks I am blaming her. I'm not. It's just that she had told me to my face "No partner of mine is going to be on disability"... and now she doesn't remember saying that. It's not her fault that I let a statement like that keep me from seeing the lawyer when I first knew I couldn't work much longer. But she did say it. I was just trying to explain something to her. I was dreading work to the point of wanting to walk in front of a bus. I told her that I could not go to this job much longer.
This was after Joel's death. Joel's death fucked her up I know; and it made it so that when I mentioned feeling suicidal due to having to go to a job that was killing me, she refused to hear it. So I kept it to myself: struggled along by myself. At this time, I was not able to afford the co-pays AND bus for therapy, as I did not have disability yet and was living off 3 credit cards. Not telling Karen this, going to work when I could but mostly just not going to work and trying to figure something out. We had some fights, and when we fought she went stone. I never knew how to react. I'd walk home and come back an hour later to find her in the same position, like a crying stone. And later she would tell me that it nearly killed her when I walked off to go home to cool off. After that she started making me promise never to leave her, ever. Of course I said I would not.
Karen now has some kind of mad on and thinks I am blaming her for my credit. If I blamed her wouldnt' I have brought that ammo out long ago during one of our hours - long volatile e-mail matches? She doesn't remember. Omg she doesn't remember how she'd write me one volatile e-mail, drunk as a lord, I'd react, begging her to be kind and not mean, and BOOM off we'd GO. For HOURS and HOURS and me not even drinking and her drinking for days. I could not not engage-- not at first. I had to learn to turn the phone off and not open the laptop. I'd have to wait 3 days.
Of course, I did this to her as well. My rejoinders were not as well thought out, and mean though. I began to see how her and Reptyler might have had some real blow-outs. Like that one time I was in college and Karen called me on my cell, crying. It was 3 p.m. in the afternoon and she was blitzed. When asked what was wrong -- she said "TYLER sent me an e-mail" and I'm OH GOD HERE WE GO. 3 p.m. and I have a class and an hour is not enough time for this, I had to promise to call her after class. That Tyler thing went on and on the whole time we were in a LDR-- you know, there were no doubt as many red flags for me with K-chop as there must have been for her with me. Why did we both ignore them? Because we really needed each other. But I think she needed me more than I needed her; since in the end, it was me that had to find a way to get her to throw me out. I had promised not to leave her-- so I made her throw me out. Now, all these years later, she's finally turning from me to her partner. I suppose it was inevitable and I'm kind of , no hugely relieved. I really am free now.
B. wants me to come to Queens or the Bronx or whatever it is. I am so tempted. I haven't been to NYC since the 80s. I'd like to see it sans Richard. You know, the people in my past were not the greatest. I wasn't the greatest. I'm definitely not the greatest now. But I always land on my feet. If I can keep Wanda from breathing down my neck... if I could find out who is spying on my FB page for her, I'd be happy. I have 5000 people to go through. For which she mocked me. She mocked me for having the full 5000 'friends' -- mostly for spreading political information. I have Fallout friends and they take up about 1 percent then the rest is political. I have unfriended most of my IRL friends to make room for people interested in politics. My sister mocks me for that. "All my Bernie friends". I know 5000 people that like Bernie Sanders. I think that's kind of neat, that we all want to learn about what is going on in the world and help each other do that. My sister thinks it's stupid.
None of it seems very stupid to me.
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