It’s Not a Goodbye

One of my best friends l, ebbf, is leaving the state. Obviously, I’ve known for a little while that it was happening, but now it has a deadline. He leaves this weekend.

Luckily I was able to go spend a couple of hours with him. Masks and safety precautions for covid obviously in place.

My heart is so sad right now. Just in general, sometimes on specifics.

I couldn’t give him a hug. That hurt me a lot. And I have no idea when I’ll be able to see him again. I can’t fly anywhere until I’m vaccinated, and road tripping it also isn’t an option, because again covid and safety concerns. Not that I could ever get enough time off from work to drive across country anyways.

We’re making plans for the future. Mostly idly right now, of trips we can do together. I haven’t seen most of the Midwest or East Coast of the US. I’m looking forward to the adventures we could have. One the world is somewhat safe again for me to be moving about in. I’m really looking forward to trying my first official Philly cheesesteak. I will likely have to pay the price stomach/chronic illness wise, but that’s fine.

It does bring to light again how many connections I’ve lost. How many friends aren’t there anymore. Sometimes I wonder how many I truly have anymore. I am grateful for those that are still here and do my best to still be a good friend too.

I’m fighting various environments that make it hard to just not slip completely into depression again. Somewhere close to where I was 2 years ago.

I fight hard to not get there and do the things I can. But part of me always worries it’s not enough. That my friends will think I don’t care about them as much as I do because actions right now are very hard for me. Not for a lack of wanting to do them, just because I barely know what day it is anymore.

I’m in a place where my brain wants to do a lot of things. Even for myself. It’s not that I can’t feel joy or desire, I just can’t seem to act on them. I’ll lay there in bed and think about how much I want to write a story, but I can’t get my body to get up and move to the computer. Or if I manage to get my iPad, no more than a few sentences seem to happen.

I wish I was in a place to be back in therapy. Maybe that could help me figure out what this block is. I know what do if I had no desires and lost all interest again, but I don’t know what this is. I don’t know what tools I need to get through this. Maybe it’s because I don’t have space to myself like before. There’s a level of always having to be on.

I’m just feeling incredibly lonely right now, and guilty because of the things I want to, but can’t seem to complete for people I care about. Things I have started months ago; or finished months ago. I have presents that haven’t been mailed. Sitting in boxes in my closet because somehow the post office feels like too much.

I’ll think it’s been a week and it’s been months.

I know ultimately I need to give myself a timeline. I need to start my journal again. I need to set a schedule to accomplish the things I want to. Knowing and doing though, right?

Death and Dying

Our neighbor died today.

I honestly only had a few small encounters with him. I moved out at 19, and mostly knew him through stories from my family.

They were all pretty friendly with him. He would always bring my dad his homemade linguica whenever he made it.

In the last couple weeks he found out he had cancer. I think it was in his lungs originally. Everything sounded like it was caught early and was treatable. My dad had talked to him a few times since finding out and with all the cancer in our family and friends, had met our neighbor with kind words and reassurance.

The other day my dad noticed that our neighbor was suddenly in a wheelchair. He had tried talking to him, but my dad said that he either didn’t hear him or had turned away. He thinks maybe out of embarrassment. I could tell my dad had been kinda hurt, not that he said so.

This morning there was frantic knocks and rings of the doorbell.

My dad answered and it was a friend of the neighbor, saying he fell and he needed help picking him back up. Of course he rushed over. Dad was gone for awhile. Then I heard the ambulance and fire truck. I told mom they arrived. But it was still awhile before my dad came home. Tears in his eyes and the words sticking that the neighbor had passed.

He went straight to the laundry and put everything in the wash and took a shower. Because Covid.

When he came back out he told us that he wasn’t breathing when he got there, but they called 911 and my dad was the one to perform CPR until the paramedics arrived and took over. They spent some time on it and had to wait to get ahold of a family member to give them permission to stop. My dad wanted to stay until they called it. He also found out that the cancer had spread to the neighbors bone marrow. He mused that maybe this was a kinder way for him to have passed.

My family has been shrouded in death and loss.

Because of this we process things very differently. Talk about things very differently. I am likely the least externally emotionally responsive about it. I’m usually the one that listens and helps people talk through it.

There were twists of conversations after. My dad needed to touch on the experience a few times and would circle back. I can’t imagine how hard it was to provide CPR to a friend he already knew was dead. It led to other stories, in other times of his life. Ones with some humor in them. Some about past jobs, some about his family. Stories I hadn’t heard before, but death does funny things to people. Triggers memories.

The rest of the day was spent somewhat like it never happened, but the energy of the day was being productive until we couldn’t anymore. Different projects. Mine took over the livingroom so my dad went to his room to watch tv for a bit with my mom. Eventually we all spent time together again later.

Life is so very fleeting. There one minute. Gone the next. One day surviving, the next day dying.

I try very hard to not take what days I have here for granted. But also, I’m not afraid of dying. Too many times I almost had. Too many times watching it. Being near it. What’s the point of fearing something that is so natural and everywhere. That’s like fearing the air.

Though it’s moments like this that make me think again on what I want. I both want that life of solitude in a cabin somewhere or a small farm to myself. But then also think on what it would be like to have someone in my life again. To not feel like I’m wasting years. Logically I know I’m not. I’m comfortable with being alone. Just sometimes wish I wasn’t.

The right person(s) hasn’t/haven’t found me at the right time yet.

Bunch O Complicated Feelings SPEW

More and more I feel like I’m paralyzed from writing and just retreating into myself. Everyone is adjusting to me being home, and sometimes there’s this tick of feeling…I don’t know. Unwanted is not the right word. I’m also fairly sure that most of this is my own big feelings and I’m taking some things harder or in an unintended manner.

This weekend was supposed to be Fanime. How much those plans altered over months to today is heart breaking.

First it was supposed to be staying in my apt. But it looked like I was moving back in with family, so just in case we had booked a hotel room. Then it was a definite leaving MY home, so good thing I booked that hotel room. Then Covid happened, and we cancelled the room. We knew it was just a matter of time, which of course the con was “postponed” and yeah it should be, not arguing there. Then I was like “let’s do something at home then!”. Mom and brother were on board, and while I was back in the other town for an appointment I was going to stop by Mitsuwa to stock up on Japanese snacks and get groceries to make some special foods for the weekend.

Background, 5 days before this my debt card was flagged for fraud and they cancelled it on me. I was (still am) waiting for the replacement via mail because of Covid, and since it’s a credit union, I basically don’t have any access to my funds unless I have things directly setup to the account, like some bill pay. So went to the store, loaded up on things. Made sure I had credit cards with me. They declined them. ALL FUCKING 3 OF MY CARDS. All of which had funds on them. Which meant I left about $200 of groceries, went to my car, proceeded to sob because this was after my ortho appointment, I was in pain, and hadn’t had food all day….cried to my mom via speaker and cell phone as I started the hour and half back home. And yeah. None of the snacks for the planned weekend.

Now on the planned weekend, we’re basically doing none fo the ideas I floated by a week ago, and I don’t think my brother even likes being around me right now. No idea why. Oh and I’m super hormonal because of course shark week started on Friday.

Today was mostly chores and runs to the storage unit, though I did get my mom to watch some Avatar: Last Airbender with me at the very end of the evening. I wanted to do more anime and gaming, and work on our cosplays that we didn’t finish or do. However, I’ve also spent most of the day trying to not just cry for hormonal reasons and stress.

I wish I had profound things to say but I’m just a mess. I found this stupid comic that my first instinct was to share with someone who’s no longer in my life, I have complicated feelings around Fanime anyway, but had finally started turning it into something really positive with my brother and mom, and and and, now this.

I can’t seem to get my room clean, and a lot of that is still just figuring what can and can’t stay here. I want to keep a bunch of my crafting things, but there’s just no room until the garage gets done which I know everyone is working on it’s just a big project so only small chunks get done at a time.

I don’t know what I’m doing. I’m still feeling that nagging loneliness and the kinda maybe I want to try to be in a relationship again at some point, but not if I’m just lonely. But hey maybe I should really just focus on writing and maybe I could get published and just live alone with my tiny farm some day. But I really wish the relationship GRIEVING could just fucking be over with now. Like fuck. It’s been two years. Stop it. He moved on. ME MOVE ON. HE’S NOT COMING BACK AND WHY WOULD YOU WANT HIM TO. YOU WEREN’T WORTH IT TO HIM SO HE’S NOT WORTHY OF YOU. Logic/Heart = ALWAYS FIGHTING.

Ehem. Have I mentioned I’m feeling really hormonal? And crying over everything? On top of you know pandemic, moving back, job turning out to just be another fucking toxic situation but I need to stay a year to have my stock vest, etc, etc, etc.

I just want some ramen and musubi, and a senpai to wrap me up, tell me I’m pretty, and give me forehead kisses.

Oh and now my hands have been in excruciating pain on and off for two weeks because, sure.

Disassembled and Divorced

I had a moment when packing up of thinking, “No disassemble”. It’s a line from Short Circuit, and I had named my apt Johnny 5 from the same movie. I broke down crying for a moment and then kept packing.

Today I handed over the keys for Johnny 5 and left my city for the last time. I spent over a decade in the Bay Area, and I loved the area I was living in. I’m so mad and sad about everything. That I’m not getting to stay where I chose to be home for so long.

But hey, I’m used to grieving. It wouldn’t be my life without pain and sadness. I’m going to let it run it’s course like usual. I have the next three days off because I’ve been running on empty for so long now. I keep having moments of being angry or sad and the lack of time and space is making it all sit real close to the surface. I’m doing my best, but I needed to put it all down.

I’m getting my room here put together. My dad is making sure I know I don’t have to do it all now and to take my time now that things are out and the majority of my life is in a 15×15 box.

I’m settling back into caretaker mode here, but it’s a little different this time around because my mom and I are taking turns of helping each other. But there’s still adjustments. We’re all butting heads on a lot of things and will need to learn how to speak to each other again with being in close.

The good news that came out of this week is I’m officially and legally divorced.

I will never have to talk to him or sign divorce paper over Valentine’s Day again. I’m sad that because of SIP I’m not able to do actual divorce party like I’ve wanted this whole time. Hopefully I can some day. I need to celebrate being free. I did drink almost an entire bottle of Dom Perignon the night I found out. A bottle I had been saving for over 2 years. A bottle he bought, and that I had planned to bring back to see him around Valentine’s Day. But instead he texted me a week before about wanting a divorce, and I’m petty. So I held onto it to toast the end of it all.

Years of therapy showed me how much I was being manipulated and used by the “better than”. Heathcliff through and through with his mind games and cruelty. Even now he still paints me as being the problem, but I burned some things away and will let it go. No more poison will I drink for his benefit. He’s in karmas hands now.

I’m running too low now on spoons and energy so we’ll wrap it there.

Fuck Cancer

So just found out my uncle has a brain tumor. My dad is stress cleaning while trying to process. I’ll just be me, supporting my fam.

Today Was Terrifying

A lot of people misuse words. I’m very careful in the ones I choose (for the most part), so when I use the word terrifying, please know I mean it.

This morning I woke up with no use of my left arm. Whenever I tried to move it, pain would shoot up and down and into my neck. After an hour of panic and forcing it, I was able to move it enough to take care of the dogs and rush myself out to commuting to work.

It just kept getting worse from there.

I don’t talk about my pain much because people already don’t believe me or don’t know what to do about it. Today was by far the worst pain day I’ve had, especially outside of a migraine. I had to take several breaks at work to go cry. I don’t cry over pain anymore. Today I was a sobbing, hysterical mess.

Nothing I did seem to ease it. Lidocaine patches, stretching, topicals, my regular muscle relaxants, the strong lee muscle relaxants I asked to go off of. I tried icing and then a bath with various “healing” salts.

Almost couldn’t get out of the bath and had a full panic melt down. I don’t have a good history with people believing me about limbs going numb, extreme pain, and being in a bath. Especially when I live alone. I had my phone and could have called a friend for help but I live in a locked holding so no way for them to get it. So I sobbed some more, knowing I was essentially going to have to do something extreme painful to avoid potentially being stuck in there for however long. Sobbed through it, almost hitting wailing.

I kept going down my arsenal of things to try. I popped a klonopin and went in search of my tens unit. At this point I was in enough pain that it was blocking cognitive ability and I was going into self preservation mode. I called fairy gay mother to so distract me enough from the pain so I could do the thing. Luckily she was happy to oblige and it worked.

Several hours later and I’m somewhat functional. Still in loads of pain but I can move in some directions without fresh bouts of hiccuping crying.

I don’t know what brought it on, so I can’t avoid it. I’ve been doing extra self care this week since it my first week at Jarvis. More stretching, foods low in inflammatory pieces, taking my muscle relaxant two times a day sometimes, water, foods, massage mat, etc etc

Being alone when something like this happens is truly terrifying. I have no one. But also oddly empowering, because I have no one. I survive, or I don’t.

It’s also hard when my friends don’t understand the gravity of what I’m saying. If I’m saying, I want to cry and like until I pass out to just avoid being in pain… that’s more than a “that sucks”. I feel like if I didn’t have health issues more people would have asked me if I needed to go to the hospital, but since I am chronically ill, it’s less impactful.

I try to not talk about my illnesses for this exact reason. The girl who cried fibromyalgia! But even when I’m silent, the moment I need help goes unheard.

At least by some. I’m grateful that fairy gay mother offered to drive an hour just to take me to the emergency room. I declined but told her I would reach back out if it came to that.

I had another friend offer to get me food. Though I had just doordashed so it wasn’t needed.he kept checking in and talking to me. Reassuring me that he was close by if ever needed.

Now I’m exhausted and can’t think of all the other things I wanted to say. Going to curl up with fur babies, a squishy bat, and crying myself to sleep.

I Forgive You

This may come across as self centered and absorbed. I’m afraid it will come across bitter or… idk. Maybe I don’t even have the right words. Maybe I should write this out a dozen times in private before making a “public” post. But why be cautious anymore? There’s not really anything for me to lose anymore.

I forgive you Rochester, and I forgive myself.

I wasn’t your person, and that’s ok. You were desperately trying to hold onto someone you loved, that wasn’t me, and that’s ok.

You couldn’t handle me or my pain, and that’s ok.

My pain and my happiness was never your responsibility.

How I reacted to being left, wasn’t your fault.

I’m hoping, after speaking with a friend tonight about what they’re going through with someone, that you walking away without a word was because that’s the only way you knew how to take care of yourself.

Does it still hurt? Yes of course. It likely always will. But I can’t expect people to treat me the way I would treat them.

We’re not the same, and that’s ok.

I obviously wasn’t good for you, and that’s ok.

I truly hope that your new person makes you happy.

I’ve done a lot of crying this last week. The most crying I have done in over two years. I’ve been annoyed because I’m crying at the most random shit.

I cried because a friend offered me money so I could do a little fun shopping.

I cried because one baker helped another on the great British baking show.

I cried for hours last night while looking at Doctor Who memes.

And I cried several times today. One being when fairy gay mother spoke about the love of her life. I will call her Chef based off of stories I heard today.

She’s told me many times that Chef was the love of her life. The way she lights up, whenever she talks about Chef. It always fills my heart. It makes me realize that maybe I’ve never had that.

Fairy gay mother was able to experience real love, and most people aren’t so lucky. She’ll tell you that herself. Though I fairly certain you would get “the look” and not one word from her. Which is a shame, she’s a lovely person, but you did kind of break her friends heart and she’s funny about those things.

I get that I wasn’t the love of your life, and that’s ok.

It’s entirely possible you weren’t in fact mine, and that also ok.

No backhand words, no bitterness anymore.

I don’t honestly ever expect an apology from you. I just hope that the decisions you made led to a healthier life. I hope you’re able to see toxic behavior and move away from them. I hope you’re able to stand up for yourself. That you’re not living in emotional pain and fear anymore.

I will likely never see you again, or reconnect, and that is ok. These were silly dreams of a broken hearted girl. I was still putting my romantic fantasies on you. That wasn’t and isn’t fair. You don’t owe me a happily ever after. You aren’t actually Rochester. Maybe I’m just bitter that I wasn’t as strong as Jane and left when everything was so bad. But then again she was dumb and eventually went running back to him.

I hope you’ve read it or watched it by this point, so you can laugh at how much of a stereotype I am. That this is the love story I cling to. All of that was pretty toxic too. Rochester was a gaslighter, and abusive adjacent. Jane was compromising boundaries on a regular for someone she loved. People who truly love you, don’t ask you to do that.

I can at least say that I respected the silence. That I didn’t keep chasing after you. I’ve had a rough go of letting you go. I keep thinking I have, and then I haven’t, and that’s ok too. You’ve been the topic of this blog for a long time. I always tried to tell you writing is how I process and heal.

Maybe I’m fooling myself, but I think I’m finally there.

I’m letting you go, and you will likely never grace this blog again.

But what I kept trying to tell you, still remains true.

Until the end of my days.

And that’s ok too.

PS I’ll raise our pokebaby to be the very best. Like no one ever was.

Proud of Myself

It’s been a trying week. Which seems to be the norm anymore.

I will say that I’m off my medication for a week now and considering the things still happening I’m much improved. I was already very low spoon before I got to Saturday. Week long migraines and vertigo. Learning how much of a cluster my current job is (though leaving it soon). Which meant I had to do some reality based decision making. Thankfully fairy gay mother and pirate queen are the ones who taught that to me and accepted my self care openly.

I’m further navigating the boundary violation, and decided quite definitely I’m done there. On another social site I posted a piece about pre predator behavior. Mostly as a reminder to myself of what I need to watch out for again when I’m not sure what color the flags are. There’s that time when they’re not full on toxic predator but one slip and they will be. Absolutely nothing I wrote was identifiable, and now Huff is blowing up my phone with more copy/paste apologies. Luckily a friend taught me how to mute him until I’m ready to deal with it. I don’t ghost. Even toxic or abusive people. I tell them why I’m done and that contact will not continue.

Man, I’ve had multiple romantic partners that never gave me that level of respect. I know I should likely not bother, and we’ll see how I feel.

Saturday night I got triggered. Though didn’t realize it in the moment. I haven’t had to experience the sensation without my depression meds in so long. Which means I made a lot of mistakes as the host for the show. One of my main responses to trauma triggers is memory loss, and lack of coordination. Because of course Bertha’s ex boyfriend is now dating someone else who is in the show often. I’m somehow didn’t fully register this, and honestly after the last time seeing him in public, I thought I’d be fine. But I wasn’t. Maybe because it’s a small venue and I can’t fully have my space. Maybe because being a host already costs spoons and now I have to spend extra to not let anyone know how bad it is. I had two drinks, which I never do when on stage. And for the first 30mins every time I got off stage, I was just in a corner shaking so hard.

But you know. Coming forward about my abuse was just about revenge, being vindictive, and wanting to hurt Bertha. Yup. I’m not actually recovering from trauma at all am I?

Body is fighting off a flare up and I’m not pleased. I tried a CBD bath and muscle relaxant, and as you can see I’m still awake. Putting devices down again once I get it all out. Maybe leeching the poison will let me get a nap.

Not being able to sleep, I’ve been scrolling through all the Doctor Who things on Pinterest. Mostly screencaps, quotes, and some fan theories. I’m woefully behind. Which means I was avoiding spoilers as much as possible, but still found myself constantly brimming with tears while scrolling. There’s so many things about the different ships, and I’m in a weird place of not knowing what I want anymore. I was fairly adamant about not doing romantic relationships anymore. I think I’m struggling with the fact that everyone else that was involved in the last 5 years, has someone. Rochester, Bertha, Bertha’s ex, pretty sure Heathcliff as well since he’s fat again.

But I refuse to date someone because I’m lonely. I don’t want to force connections because I’m touched starved (my massages used to help with that but I can’t afford them anymore). I was trying to do the casual thing, and as mentioned that went sideways. What’s funny is he flat out told me he was going to be an issue and I didn’t believe him. He told me my problem is I keep choosing the same kind of people.

And he was right! Because he did turn out to be another abusive person, that was simultaneously keeping me a secret, while also trying to “keep me”, while violating my boundaries and fuckingn people behind my back without communication. This may just prove again, that if I can’t choose people correctly, then I shouldn’t be in a romantical relationship.

I’m excited for today. I’m meeting Fairy gay mother and we’re going to WES. Marvelous thing. Very chuffed she shared it with me and that it now appears to be becoming one of our yearly things to do together. This is a good human, and she did something that is a huge kindness to me and made me cry some happy tears.

Ok. Going to try a little more on the cleansing crying and get like a 4hr nap in.

Dear Witcher

Fuck you for making me cry.

That is all.

I’m fwiggen exhausted

No one tells you how hard it is to be poor. Except other poor people, but no one listens to them especially in this economy. The advice is always

WORK HARDER

DON’T LIKE YOUR? JOB CHANGE IT

MOVE SOMEONE CHEAPER

I’ve noticed that this string of advice is usually from people who are not facing the hollow end of a barrel.

I have 13 years of work experience, with growing responsibilities and amazing things on my resume. I send out about a dozen resumes everyday. And receive about similar in rejections and maybe 1-2 phone screens every other week if I’m lucky. The job market is not plentiful. Not like they would like you to believe.

I’m just so tired of everything.

I’m tired of working so hard to not be appreciated. I’m tired of struggling. I’m tired of starting to get a foot hold and then having my whole home ripped out from under me. I’m tired of being sick (yeah I’ve been continuing to do this while having pneumonia for the first time in my life). I’m tired of feeling like I’m being punished for some great unseen deed that I have no idea what it is.

I work hard. At my job. At my family. At being a friend. I work hard at being a good person. Calling out in justices. Speaking when people don’t feel safe. Speaking even when I know it will ruin my own life. I try to have healthy and stable boundaries and try to hold up my friends and family when they’re being mistreated.

I try to give back even when I don’t have much at all. I feel guilty when I really have to say no to helping someone or something out.

It’s hard to feel like I get the same support that I see other get, but I try really hard to keep my bitterness in check. My response in late as is usually work harder. There’s no windfalls for me. That’s not to say I haven’t had people help me in the past. They definitely have and maybe this makes them seem unappreciated which is not my intent.

I know a big part of this is dealing with huge things again right as I’m coming off my depression meds. But health wise it’s safer for me to not risk losing access to them (which seems to keep happening) and go through deadly withdrawals. I know I’m making the choice to step down.

And considering I lost my job, and I’m a month or two away from losing my home (that’s probably generous) I think I’m doing ok.

I mean I’m choking up right now at my desk at my not paying enough job while I write this, but this is fine.

Spoke to fairy gay mother about advice for the situation. Like I said, she’s walked the same forest even if it’s not the same path. The advice is to make a deadline of when I pack it in. When I accept the offer to move back in with my family because well…that’s the only option I have left at this point.

Moving from the hell hole apartment to where I am now, took a giant chunk into the credit cards I had been paying off. The loss of a job only made that worse. The current job only gives enough for my rent and literally nothing else. I can’t move to something cheaper even if by some miracle I found an apartment in my area that would allow both my furbabies.

I feel like David Tennenat’s Doctor

But like 10, it maybe inevitable.

If that happens I don’t know if I’ll find my way back here. This area has been my home longer than my family home now. I like living here. Most of the friends that have stuck by me are here. Communities that I belong to are here. Whenever I visit my parents I feel out of place now. I’m too queer, too tattooed, too open.

I love living in my downtown apt and the fact that I was finally making a space that really felt like home. Even though it’s been messy as fuck because life never seems to give me a break, I still like being there.

I’ve even been making new connections, and trying to find different places in the same communities. I’ve been doing my best to learn and grow. Now I just feel like it’s all being taken away.

My friends are trying to reframe it for me, and I know I should be too. I will and am.

But it’s just one more thing for me to grieve. I’m always grieving. I was building some happiness but it’s gone again. Now I have to learn to accept and let go again. To bury another part of my life.

I’m still trying though. Which brings other possible hard decisions to the fore front. I had a phone screen today which led to a second interview with a big name local company. It would be a good move career wise, but not so in the present future financially. Slightly more than Im getting paid now, but still not enough to cover all my expenses, much less food. I have literally cut everything down to just payments I HAVE to make and I’m still fucked.

Tomorrow is another phone screen that could be a job that will pay me enough right now, but likely will be stagnant for any sort of future.

I’m too poor to even play the lottery to try and get a windfall that way haha a friend accused me of being too smart to play the lottery and I was like, “shows you, I’ve played it numerous time in the last 6 months”. Desperate people right? That’s their market.

I’m going to try a scrounge up a gratitude post soon. Maybe Sunday. I’m going to give myself the day off from job hunting that day. Maybe lay on the couch and have a good cry. Try to create something. Idk. I just know I need to take even a day to breathe because I’m drowning.