skellaxinscruples: (the woman! all the women!)
 ...Is what she told me she told her boyfriend, when she came over yesterday to help me clean. Pretty bold, now. We had a long talk about our ideal relationship configurations, and how she wants both a boyfriend and a girlfriend in the long term, but not a unicorn. Feelings. And like, some memories, as I sorted through my sentimental paper collection. And I told her about when I got cheated on for a few months, and how much that really hurt me, but how I've recovered from it for the most part. I told her about how Pat was a scum, and she admitted that if she'd known how much he was motivated to rape her in hanging out with her, she wouldn't have. 

We talked about moving slow; she gets girls throwing themselves at her for hookups, and she's mostly disinterested in that. She wanted someone she could relate to, and somehow she relates to me. And I talked about how I can hook up pretty easily, but people are bothersome and I'm less patient for that now, and when it comes to relationships I don't really like to start with sex -- I move very slowly. 

So, yeah, we're not girlfriends but we're trying to get to know each other in that direction. Since we've known each other for so long, this isn't full of pressure. The fact that she wants to discuss and be reasonable about this actually fills me with more giddiness than just rushing for a label. 

I send her lots of pictures of dogs. I mean, I do that for everyone, but more for her because she doesn't like cats.


Two days ago my mother came over to "clean," with the girls in tow, but then she started wanting to pack, to take down my decor, and for that I felt deceived. If I had known it was for packing rather than cleaning, I would have prepared differently. Threw away a bunch of stuff. When we had a moment alone, I told her...

That she can't pound on my door and barge in angrily and yell at me like she did last time she came over (a few weeks ago?). When she did that, it really messed me up, I had a constant animal panic response and couldn't stand loud noises and just had overwhelming terror and anxiety. She said "Don't you tell me what I can and can't do," not even listening to the whole thing, where I also wanted to explain that I've had nightmares about that interaction for the last eight years, a huge anxiety of intrusion, and that yelling really triggers me. I did mention that all of my partners have respected my boundaries enough to avoid using raised voices around me, because it messes me up, and she said "You never treated them as bad as you treat me," and accused me of using her, and basically that she didn't care I have emotional boundaries and triggers. 

So, yeah. Without a doubt, that interaction crossed the line from dysfunction to abuse. I feel afraid and unsafe, logically. But mostly numb. Mostly numb, I guess, the only way you can feel when you finally understand your parent doesn't care about you/your health. 

The reason my life is shit and things don't get done is because I am depressed. Because I am ill. I am not wasting time and having fun when I am failing to get things done, I am crushed by my own shame and lack of motivation, overwhelmed constantly, scared. My mind is foggy and I can't focus on anything and I feel so much pressure, and I feel like a let down. And it's been 15 years of being treated and I'm not fixed, and that itself makes me feel worse and more useless. I can't be "using" her -- she has been giving of her own volition. I stopped asking a long time ago. If she cut me off, I wouldn't fight. All I'm asking now is that she respect my boundaries, be mindful of my health -- which one would do for any other person, even a stranger. Even if a stranger told you that they have asthma, if you're half-decent you wouldn't blow smoke their way. Why isn't it the same for mental illness? 

But I talked to her yesterday, on the phone, since I missed a call from her, and she seemed pleasant enough, and surprised that I am working on things, in a good way. She wanted to arrange a dentist's appointment for me. 

I'm considering leaving sooner than I had planned, because of this. I get paid soon; not much. If I just wrap up a few things, then I'd be able to cut and run. Min said she'd pay my transport anywhere. Ugh, she is so lovely and I hate being like this, I hate this. 

Anyway, before I started writing this entry, Lucas was kind of terse at me, and so I started to consider myself a failure again, after being up since late last night to this afternoon, right now, cleaning and trying to get work done, high on emotions and chances. The constant up and down is really tough, because I can't always predict what I'll end up like moment to moment. Writing all of this down, I feel less sad and self-conscious than I did, for some reason, even though I'm reliving emotions by recording them. 
skellaxinscruples: (swirly dark rarity)

Yeah, okay, yesterday got really fucked up. I think the worst part of being umedicated is these sudden, deep, dark pits of overpowering despair that make me want to curl up in a hole and die, almost viscerally. For example, when a girl said something really fucking mean to me I actually curled up right there and cried in the fetal position until I fell asleep and then I softly cried a little more when I woke up the next morning. As in, not even a sensation I could control, but literally overpowered by my own hurt. These are not common occurrences at this period in my life, and things like being told I'm going to be forced to move out, or being deprived of medical care, or eating nothing but rice for a week don't shake my core security. Attacks on my very nature, do, however. So, having the validity of my relationships insulted is what caused the above reaction, being told that no one would want my love the way I give it, even from someone who I don't think is especially an authority on that kind of thing--that really wounds me.

So, honestly, I was already really overstimulated being here at my mother's house, where she is telling someone how to do a thing or telling someone to do another thing, giving orders, at least twice an hour, and calling out loudly, sonorously, commands from other rooms or across store floors, and yes, that is very emotionally taxing for me to be around.

I am legitimately emotionally triggered by raised voices, and I have told all of my partners not to yell at me or yell in a directly admonishing way at anyone when I'm around. I know that's really a lot to ask, to forbid others to raise their voices, but basically everyone who's not an abusive dickhole has respected it. I had to tell my mother to stop commanding across the house tonight, because it was making me want to cry.  

(i'm writing this on this godforsaken iMac G5 that hasn't had antivirus run on it since 2006, and I can't even load the page to download Google Chrome from, because these browsers are so old and brokedick and it makes me want to flip tables.)

Anyway, my mom's very transparent, and she had me installing things on her (actually functional and expedient) laptop -- specifically, I was downloading music to her iPhone, so I made a folder to torrent music into, and I downloaded uTorrent, and in the process of doing so, I stumbled on a document called "I am a very sensitive person..." so I previewed it

and one of the parts that showed up in the preview made me want to fucking die and crawl into a hole and actually legitimately call this whole shit off, not even go to Cancun, but stay in bed, at home, with my dust and my cats, hide under layers of aesthetic and vaporwave and barricade myself and maybe not ever come out again, made me hate the idea of having a family or a history or anything, just fucking want to leave and get the fuck out of this life and never return and never speak to anyone who identifies with this state (Arizona) again.


The document was written by my little sister, and it said, essentially, that she experienced severe emotional trauma/turmoil/distress as a result of me being raped. She attributed my rape to "her mania induced her to go roaming around the neighborhood at 2 AM" and mentioned "the cuts and the bruises and the hate she exuded for herself and everyone else" and how detrimental this was to my relationship with her...

and no.

Fucking no.

That's not fucking it at all; that's a lie. Specifically, I wasn't "manic" and "roaming at 2 AM," I was fucking going for a walk at 6 AM -- that is a thing that NORMAL, NON-CRAZY people do. She basically believed I got raped because I am a crazy person doing something crazy.

There were no cuts and bruises.

I had been abstinent of self-harm for over 6 years at that point, and my assault was "non-violent." Any bruises that may have occurred were a result of me stumbling around once (only once) in the following weeks after calling up a family friend and asking him to bring me a glass flask of Jaegermeister.

And I wonder... who told her this version of the story? Who told her I got raped because I am crazy? 

her version of our lives includes this false narrative. She has been lied to. Someone in my family is a fucking liar. I already know my mom blames me for getting raped, told me, "I hope you've learned something," fucking this whole thing made me want out of this family forever and for good.

As for "hatred," scared animal reactions, so, I don't especially care about that interpretation. Scared animals do things, I was one, they are not rational, but I do not feel I was malignant towards her at all. Rather, to be completely honest, as soon as I'd started college (two years earlier) I had made the deliberate decision to be absent from her life as much as possible, because I did not want her or anyone to deal with my mess, the piece of shit that I am, that I was, I did not want  her to have any impression of me at all, if possible, because I was a shitty worthless human being and she was a child and I needed to not exist for people like her. She can re-narrativize that any way she wants, because I can't control how another person responds to my actions, how they feel about my actions that I never explained.

It's just the part about her thinking I was doing crazy shit, the fact that someone probably told her that, that makes me want out so badly.


I can't go on an all-expenses paid international luxury resort vacation with this mindset. They have a crocodile and flamingo reserve there. They drive you to the beach at night to let you watch mama sea turtles amble onto the sand to lay and bury their eggs, and they help the turtles get back into the ocean. You cannot permit yourself access to such wonders while being sour; they will be wasted on you, and your life will have been wasted if you are incapable of appreciating these bounties.


I basically listened to my ipod really loudly and listened to my songs on repeat until I felt a little better. I ignored anyone trying to talk to me unless they came up to me directly. I wouldn't have done anything else tonight unless I absolutely had to (I did the bare minimum), I wouldn't even have eaten dinner with others had I not felt that was the bare minimum courtesy. I made myself a few strong drinks. I called Lucas. I started working on a "mommy issues" playlist. I reminded myself that my mother is like a liberal academic Malory Archer and I am Sterling accordingly.

All trips are the same. Drug trips, vacation trips. Fucking be grateful for them all. Fucking don't be a piece of shit going into it negative, or else you won't appreciate the right parts, or else you'll get yourself into worse trouble. Don't force yourself to participate in shit you can't handle, in shit you won't enjoy, that's wasted effort and bad experience; you drag that negativity into everything and everyone you interface with. Be good, or at least do good. "An if ye harm none, do as ye will." Your baggage is no one else's responsibility, you keep track of it, keep it in check; there are limits  to the weight of baggage you can travel with, so don't exceed those limits, it inconveniences everyone. Have a safe trip and bring back good memories; life is too short to ruminate on the useless, on the menial, on the petty.

Life is too short. Every day is a special occasion, because you actually showed up--celebrate.

skellaxinscruples: (doot!zooted skull party)
ok so like early this week my mom was like "wanna go to cancun next week?" and I said yes so now we're going to cancun.

Leaving tomorrow before sunrise, obviously.

Pretty nice, though. Apparently there's some convoluted story that ties this back to the whole horrible messy divorce thing, but I am unconcerned.  I will just relax and not worry too much out on vacation. I will wear cocktail dresses and drink by the pool, maybe I will get a massage or a facial finally, I will be okay.

Honestly, I'm at the point where I kind of feel a little sad I won't be able to be earning for that whole week. sigh.  $70 a day is nice, you know? I am also close to returning to camming. I also have started working on editing my sex tape, which is hilariously weird, because it's like I AM the porno. Well. I am. I am making the sex thing to sell to people who will download it and watch it on full screen. Watching your body do those things on full screen is weird, and even stranger to think that strangers will be doing that, and enjoying it. It's weirder, I guess, when it's a recording, rather than just doing it live.

Li-Chi got me a new router, it was a PITA to set up, but it's a lot better than that godforsaken dying router. The reason the (new) router was so cheap is because the company that makes them is out of business so there's no way to get technical support from them. Other than awkward maneuvering to get the thing working, it's fine. A little unstable, but that might just be my ISP. For whom the bill is more than a month past due, and also I have a second month past due now hahaha. I have money I can't yet deposit in my bank account because of reasons, how obnoxious.

I don't envy my mother her life. Being here at her house is hectic. She interrupted Sonya and Sedona to tell them how to sweep the floors correctly. She has to have my brother come over to convince him to take out another mortgage for her. She has to coordinate so many things, mortgages, people, plans, ugh. I want none of it. I like being at home, with my dust and my cats, with my lack of possessions, with my lack of children. She just got an iPhone 5 and needed someone to walk her through setting it up, even though none of us have an iPhone, and we told her to use Google, but she said she "just wanted to focus on this," and kept asking us things, so I took her laptop and sat beside her with Google open and told her what to do, and it was annoying for me, but she was grateful. Old people being bad at technology, sigh. I don't ever want to be that old. I don't want multiple mortgages. I don't want children. She has increasingly bad arthritis and as such is in constant pain, and only one of her hands is useful, and that terrifies me so much that I try to open every door for her that I can, volunteer to carry everything (even though she is stronger and more practical than me). Aging is terrifying.

I am going to ask her a lot about her life, though, on this trip. Hopefully over cocktails. She's hilariously candid when she's had a bit to drink, but even when she hasn't, I'm old enough that she tells me sketchy things. For instance, as a teenager, she had a fake ID (at 16) and went to the discotheques, and her friend had a sleazy uncle, Uncle Al, who would give them pot and booze and drugs in exchange for one of her friends dancing for him, and they all knew never to be alone with him or else he'd do something untoward. Her mother never knew about this guy, her older brothers never knew either. I also want to know about her father, who she compares at times to me -- she loved him the most of all her siblings, and he was odd and vain and drank too much and was well connected despite being a day laborer. None of her other siblings much liked him, she was his special kid, though. I want to know if she ever felt any stigma from outsiders being perceived as a "single mother," raising my older brother in her early 20s, while my father was away working. I want to know why she has the values that she does -- why is she modest, why does she want to take care of people (a trait I inherited), why does she believe in a unifying energy of the universe (religion, faith, god), why is she a liberal academic, all of that stuff.

I enjoy learning the stories of people. That is why I am here, for instance.
skellaxinscruples: (rosa is not smiling)
 Today is just one of those days where I feel a little sad to start with, since Lucas didn't call me last night like he said he would. Instead, he spent some hours playing video games with the guys on Mumble, even though I was there. 

In general, I'm kind of feeling really polarized about the relationship; I somehow am finding that I trust his devotion to me more, but also that he's very negligent of me, doesn't spend meaningful time with me on a regular basis, so I wonder what it is he's even devoted to... I wonder who I am to him, and why he wants to be with me, if he doesn't make time for me on a regular basis. 

I caught him for a few minutes this morning, and expressed that displeasure. He said his phone had died, but still, he could have said something, or maybe spent some time in a channel alone with me, you know? And he was defensive, he said how he feels like he can't do anything without being attacked, and I said I just wanted some quality time on a regular basis, you know? And he admits that's perfectly reasonable... and then he left to go shower and go to school. Said he loved me. 

I don't know. It wasn't that bad of an interaction, but it leaves a slightly sad haze on the rest of the day. 

Now, my mother is downstairs, and she's waiting for an air conditioner technician to come over and take a look at my broken A/C unit, and give an estimate. I'm pretty sure we're not going to get any better than $2,800 for a new compressor. sigh.

After that, my mom is going to take me to the MVD so I can get an ID card so I can get my money out of Amazon payments and into my bank account (wherefrom I cannot yet spend it, as I need my debit card to arrive).

Now she's here. She came in while I was on the porch feeding the cats for a second, which I feel is disruptive to my autonomy. If I'm not answering the door, maybe there's a reason for it. I mean, yes, utilitarian, can't leave a repairman waiting, but it really makes me uneasy when she enters without me letting her in. 

I'm getting a roommate soon, not one I wanted. I don't mind her, though. She's one of my sister's friends, and her parents refuse to support her going to school, they want her to drop out and take care of her, and so they're disowning her for not. She's apparently studious, likes cats and food and anime, will do all the cleaning herself and whatnot and stay out of my way. Honestly, that kind of person makes me nervous, I don't want to make her uncomfortable with my lifestyle. I worry about how she'll feel when she hears me screaming "FUCK MY ASS, DADDY" from my bedroom when I'm camming. 

I hope we don't have any conflict, she's one my little sister's best friends, so maybe we can get along. 

Ugh now she's inspecting things, reattaching the fire alarms even though I told her they need new batteries, telling me to call the insurance to get my card, I hate it when she comes in and tells me to do things. The insurance isn't her business, she's not paying any of my medical expenses any more, leave me alone, geez...

I am barely on my first coffee of the day, and I haven't eaten. I just want to feel comforted. 

and I miss madeline...

skellaxinscruples: (the woman! all the women!)
 All I do is work these days. And yet it's not for so much money yet. I've started keeping spreadsheets of all that I do, to compel me to be more productive. I actually have started investigating which ad companies are queer friendly. I've sent a query letter; the response was positive. 

I was kinda living on lentils and rice for a week. Then I ran out of lentils. Then I ran out of rice. 

Seeker was supposed to buy me a pizza, but the fryer at Pizza Hut broke, so they had to sub in something else for free, and then when the pizza showed up, they needed to see the ordering card... which is impossible, as he is in Australia. It was so close, I could have just grabbed it and run. I should have. I was so hungry and tired. 

My internet bill has been past due for 3 weeks now. The only reason they haven't shut me off, probably, is because I paid part of it. 2.79 before the bill was due, then a few days ago a friend chipped in another 24 or so, and now only 20.50 is left. Shoe said he'd pay it, but his card was declined for some reason, ugh. That makes me wary of having anyone else try to pay it either. Every day I wake up with internet is a blessing, because that's the only outlet I have, that's how I talk to people, that's how I make money, that's how I stay sane. I like to imagine the reason, though, that they haven't disconnected me yet is that someone who works at the ISP loves me. My periods of disconnection have increased, in the last two days. In reality, I know that's because my router has corrupted firmware, but I like to imagine that's actually my secret admirer arguing with his coworkers to show me mercy; this back and forth of dramatically plugging and unplugging a cord. 

I mean, odds are that they just haven't noticed me, but, the story is compelling. If they did disconnect me, I'd have to pay a reactivation fee, ugh. 

I miss Madeleine. Since she's been back, she still hasn't been as accessible as she was before. She's going to vanish again in a few days... I hate it. I miss her affection. I know there's a lot going on, she's dating someone now, but I felt like we had something, and now I can't reach her any more. She sent me some BTC to buy acid, and we've had a few conversations about condoms and I won really hard at Words With Friends again, but nothing as meaningful as the way we used to talk. It hurts. sigh. 

So, even though I'd determined my fixation with the yumikuri pairing wasn't all to do with her (it wasn't), I think I should probably change my desktop to not being yumikuri fanarts, because it makes me a little sad. 

I think my name is Amalthea, now. I ended up using it as an alias on the sites I write for, and I feel comfortable looking at it, wearing it as my self-concept. I've emerged from the wandering jelly phase of Squirxical, after the long elusive trek of Etcetera. I am starting to form together, to a whole, to a person again. I like this person better than the one I was. I won't ask anyone to call me anything different from the name they met me on, but it's strange... strange feeling, to attach to a name again. I felt a little ostentatious taking the name of a unicorn, but now I don't feel like that's too much to ask.

I told my mom about my monetized blog idea, and she really loved the idea of making a WAH resource for queer people, and she said she'd actually front all of the start up costs -- hosting, software, domain, everything. I was blown away. She said she was very proud of me. 

She said those words directly, "very proud," about how she felt about me.

I never hear those words so directly... I hear them used for my sister, but never for me. So, it means a lot, to finally be doing something my mother will be proud of. So, I guess I'll really dedicate myself to it. I feel strongly about it, I feel like it's important, like it could really help people. 

Marcia, my step-mother, signed papers putting my mother on the deed for where I live, so she can't evict me any more. So, my living situation is stable. However, she's still holding my little sister's cat hostage. Mom and Sedona are so amazed that I still want a relationship with Marcia, that I don't hate her like they do. I am maybe too forgiving, and maybe not living with her for as long as they did, I didn't see her the same way. Marcia wasn't as invasive with me as she was with everyone else; she was at peace with me being vague. This person they describe is hard for me to fathom. I will not push for them to relate to her in any way. Maybe I have been deceived. I feel pity and compassion for her. Maybe I am too soft.

I am learning how to churn out content on a regular basis, doing all this shitblogging for these pay-to-x sites, which really was my goal, moreso than the actual earning. The earning was the carrot on the stick for training myself to do something of value. Now I can start writing for real content mills that pay like $8 per post, hopefully.

I am starting to think that maybe I can stop believing that Lucas will leave me when he meet someone else who is local and fun. I mean, I've already accepted that he wants to come with me when I move, it's just that I also think that something could just as easily throw him off path, something convenient. Maybe. I miss him too. He works a lot, he goes to school for long hours, and so I haven't spent much time talking to him lately... sigh. 

I need cuddles. 


skellaxinscruples: (Default)

February 2016

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