it’s been a couple months. i’m still not dead (surprise). not feeling great but good enough to log on and type, which is something. got a lot of very important deadlines coming up and a lot of old+new obstacles. feels like God is going out of His way to toy with me and watch me suffer, i hope it’s an amusing spectacle at least. how’s everyone else doing.
uhhh i am feeling echoes right now like the emotion of buzzing like tv static being projected onto an old classroom projector
here is the events i just can’t process them right now but i need to put them somewhere just to put them outside of my head
so my little brother decided to drop in for a surprise visit and i’m playing host
my partner decides to postpone the usual shit he does to have a conversation/hang out with my brother
i am sort of joining in on the conversation mostly listening but the three of us are chatting.
this is the most conversation i’ve had with my partner in over a month because he’s always too busy with calls and internet shit
i am enjoying being able to listen to the two most important people in my life, enjoying following along the conversation
ofc this many words is overwhelming and i’ve got the shakes but this the two of them so as overwhelming as it is, it is also so nice and i’m trying to make it last as long as possible before i have to tap out.
little brother mentions something about how he has difficulty distinguishing between platonic and romantic love for his friends, asks about k and i’s feelings for each other as an example/guidance
k totally casually tells my brother that he doesn’t have romantic feelings for me any more, but that he can’t imagine life without me living with him and that we’ll probably be platonic partners forever.
this isn’t a conversation he ever thought to have with me or let me in on until right now as he says this shit no hesitation to my little brother as casual and confident as can be
like sure i already thought he didn’t love me i’ve thought that the whole time. i thought he just likes the attention, the loyalty.
but i didn’t think he was aware of that.
and of course he can’t imagine life without me i have been taking care of him and his parents for years i’ve bought him everything he asks for i do all the cleaning i am the one who’s always been there since 2016 whenever he or his family needs something
i just. god. this is so not the time for any of this i still have my brother here to take care of and i’ve been in the bathroom typing this for too long
when i was younger, in those loud and chaotic group homes, in those uncaring public schools, i could easily self-soothe without worrying. no one cared. i could repeatedly bash my head into the concrete or the doorway or the metal support beam in the handicapped stall. as long as i left the classroom or main room i could make those noises in the back of my throat. i could hit or slap myself loudly, i could break my shit, rip things apart, snap my whittling projects into pieces.
then in my last home, behavior was strictly monitored, loud outbursts were not allowed. when i was homeless they were allowed again. now that i live with my partner they are not allowed (bc it would annoy, or worse, worry them. k and their parents would notice, would ask, would try to talk to or stop me).
quiet methods of self-soothing take longer to work, and they feel worse. an angry, loud fist simply does not do as much damage as an angry, quiet knife. stuffing my mouth with my thumb and hand meat to keep from making noises leads to having to furtively pop the thumb back into the socket once i’ve calmed down, and then a nasty wound that makes washing the dishes suck even worse than usual. it’s satisfying to bite a little chink of my arm or slash the shit out of my legs, but when you’re in that sort of headspace it gets messy as hell and is a b¡tch and a half to clean up afterwards. a back and neck full of scratched-open wounds is a louder/brighter pain in the shower than bruises or some raw knuckles. i’ll put my hands in my mouth to keep them from hitting and they tug so hard at my lower teeth and jaw that i’ve loosened and lost teeth from it. ripping apart my me is a lot quieter than breaking chains or treating apart wood, but it sure seems less healthy.
it’s kind of ironic that having people who’d care results in hurting myself worse
i am semi nonverbal i think. i have a very low word stock.
like if i’m typing, depending on the headspace I can go on for a while, have a back-and-forth on discord for twenty or more messages in a row on a good day.
irl/spoken has less stock. i can talk a lot about my special interests specifically but not really as a back and forth and it has my natural speech pattern which is probably hard to follow. and when i infodump it tends to be about convoluted subject matter and jump place to place. but i haven’t actually infodumped irl like that to since uhhh november i think.
on most days i never speak more than a few sentences, usually just “okay, will do”, “I’ll get right on that”, “thank you”, and a couple short commentaries/jokes in passing about something on tv. i primarily communicate in the little sign my partner has learned (yes, no, cute, funny, i’m fine, look at this, i love you, you’re so gorgeous, are you thirsty, are you hungry, no problem, sorry, so-so).
as far as participating in conversations, on good days i can do shortish responses but my response time is pretty shit bc i take forever to process it and then I gotta gather and piece together my words properly and practice it in my head to check first. so there’ll be this awkward lag. and then on worse days i struggle to put out trisyllabic responses. which sucks because sometimes you know that the response you can give will be misconstrued but so will silence and you just can’t give them anything better.
and that’s not even talking about anything serious. when somebody tries to have a serious conversation about me out loud, instead of messaging me, i always just nod along in agreement and throw out a couple “sorry”s and “thank you”s because whenever i try to articulate that sort of shit all that comes out is a couple stunted syllables and then echolalia noises, and then the pressure to speak more clearly ends up in a meltdown in front of them. and god i hate going full retard with an audience.
then, much worse than talking irl, there is the phone. being on call. i have tried. just last june i worked up the nerve and picked up a phone call. it lasted less than a couple minutes, i didn’t process any of the words, i couldn’t respond, and the resulting meltdown was three days of awful, but hey at least i was able to get that far.
in order to schedule a doctor’s appointment for my physical bullshit i’d need to call. in order to schedule a therapy appointment i’d need to call, and the local guys only do phone appointments. to get back on my meds at the beginning of the pandemic i was supposed to call to switch pharmacies (the one i had been going to shut down). to get a replacement sim card for my water damaged one i’d need to call. to get any legitimate job in my area i’d need to call or answer a call. so i just. don’t do any of those things.
so i got thru the Ordeal™ of my partner’s birthday party and then their actual birthday. still healing from my freakout on the day of the party (legs all fucked up, can’t do most of my stretches rn), but that was an expected side effect. less expected side effect: started drinking again, despite the cals. dunno how long i’ll get to keep it before the weight shit outweighs the benefit.
took some selfies for the first time since 2020. considering posting one here like ElleInWi did.
i’m going to scream all i’ve been doing for the past three days (between meltdowns+panic attacks) is scrubbing and cleaning to prepare for my partner’s birthday (because only three days ago he told me that we are hosting the party instead of having it at H’s house like usual) and it’s been physically exhausting and sensory hell and i’ve been perpetually soaked in filthy water.
usually i get up and then 2 or 3 hours later he wakes up but H is picking the both of us up an hour before i usually get up which means i’ll need to wake him up before she comes to get us. and i can’t take a shower in the morning without waking him and his parents (we live with his parents) super early which would be such a dick move!!! i’d probably be willing to do it if it was just him but his poor mom had trouble enough as it is sleeping so i’m not going to do that to her! so i already warned all of them that tonight after i do evening chores i was going to take a shower and ugh
i’m in the middle of scrubbing dishes (part of evening chores) with my headphones on and the water goes lukewarm out of nowhere and i take off my headphones and he is filling the bath to soak before bed which he does not usually do. apparently it’s a pre-birthday treat so he feels and smells nice tomorrow but which he deserves, it’s nice for him to treat himself and he’s got one of those glittery pink lush bath bombs and i’m happy he’s treating himself i just wish it wasn’t right now, or that he’d warned me first
so now i’m sitting here dishwater-soggy clothes with pruney hands as he waits for the hot water to come back so he can finish filling the tub, so that i can wait for the hot water to finish the dishes and counters, so that i can wait for the hot water again for my shower. and it’s like half an hour before everyone usually goes to bed so i know this means i’ll be keeping everybody up (which is not as bad as waking them up early bc is usually takes his mom an hour or so of reading before she really starts to sleep but it still sucks and makes me feel shitty).
and in the busyness of it all i forgot to wash my clothes like i was supposed to today so i don’t have fresh boxers or one of my nicer shirts for tomorrow.
and i’m trying my hardest not to cut or to bite myself right now because my skin is covered in dirty-ass water (and i’m paranoid abt another infection) and because I can only take showers with all-hot water which totally fucks with my open wounds in a bad way so i try to avoid it when i can
I hate being awake I hate being asleep I hate being tired I hate eating I hate not eating I hate sweating I hate being wet I hate being damp I hate being dirty enough to taste it on my hands I hate being dirty enough to get another infection I hate not cutting I hate being caught cutting I hate when people talk to me I hate when people talk about me I hate when people see me I hate when people think of me I hate it when I can’t draw I hate when I can draw but the drawing ends up looking like shit I hate having to think I hate having to move I hate being still I hate having to hear things I hate loud noises I hate new noises I hate how loud silence is I hate bright loud lights I hate when I can’t see I hate when people touch my things I hate when people see my things I hate having things I hate not having enough I hate having to wear clothes I hate having to think about clothes I hate having to think about my appearance I hate having to see my appearance I hate having an appearance I hate that I’m alive I hate that I can’t die yet because I’d leave a mess behind I hate that when I die k will think about me I hate making k sad I hate to think that when I kill myself k night blame himself I hate that I met k because it will ruin them I hate that k knows me I wish k would forget me I wish that I could die without hurting him I wish that I could just eat myself alive right now without worrying about making a scene or a mess or making people sad
My partner is aware that I cut and drink poppy milk and take other ppl’s meds and eat “bad” things (rancid meat, small objects, live bugs, little chunks of my thighs, etc). And when they find out they always shrug it off and either act like it’s normal or pointedly ignore it. They let me take care of them and fuss over their health and they’ll grumble about it sure but they never point out the blatant hypocrisy. They talk about my eating habits to their internet friends like it’s a funny party trick and sometimes I’m fine with that because at least they’re not stopping me but sometimes it makes me feel like I’m some living shock site for them.
And then I get home from work and I’m doing the chores and I hear them freaking out over their friend smoking cigarettes. Trying to convince their friend to try to quit, saying it’s unhealthy, all “I care about your health because I care about you” and shit.
And it shouldn’t bother me because I don’t want them to stop me I don’t want them to waste time worrying about me. But they say “I love you” when I tell them goodnight and I can’t help but to think of this.
everyone was gone today. they told me yesterday that they were going out. i made a plan then and there.
i was stupid. it was so dumb, the reason i failed.
i couldn’t make it out of the fucking house. between all the blood loss and not being able to afford to refill my prescriptions and not having the will to eat for the last couple of days, I could barely even physically make it to the door, scrabbling along the floor. i passed out and vommed from the attempt.
i couldn’t do it in the house, i can’t leave behind that sort of mess for them. i couldn’t even leave behind the vom- i took off my shirt and used it to wipe it up.
i hate forcing the burden of my prescence on them anyways- their kid’s good-for-nothing partner, college dropout who eats their food and uses their water and hasn’t even payed fucking rent since the pandemic started. i hate taking advantage of their charity and good nature. i am overwhelmed with guilt every time i take up their space or their resources- gluttonous me eating their food, wasteful me keeping the lamp on in our room all night bc im a grown fucking adult who’s afraid of what i’ll see in the dark, annoying me getting stuck on an echolalia loop or accidentally infodumping in front of them. i feel terrible enough just walking past them, forcing them to have to deal with my disgusting presence until i’ve finished crossing the common room.
if i do it now, before i can figure out how to somehow pay them back for the money i owe and for the burden i’ve made myself, the very fucking least i can do is not leave a stinking mess for them to come home to and have to deal with. i refuse to inconvenience them like that.
and that’s the reason i fucking failed today.
– can read more fanfic
– pay back the woman who’s been housing me during the pandemic
– play animal crossing
– post fanart online and read the comments
– make the animatic
– jack off
– eat meat
– still have the chance to get thinner
– listen to my partner’s plans for their au
– attend conventions again, someday
– sing along to music, loud+alone
– I won’t be cognizant of anyone perceiving me
– I will not have to figure out how pay anyone back
– never have to interact with my parents again
– not stuck in this fucking body anymore
– won’t ever have to be verbal
– no more food worries
– stop stringing along th ppl who care and forcing them to witness my lack of functionality. they can deal with my death+move on instead of constantly thinking I’ll get better and being proven wrong every day.
– will never have to do dishes again
– not have to feel the guilt of sleeping anymore
– not have to be awake anymore and experience input all the fucking time
– no more sensory overloads or meltdowns
– can eat raw bits of me b4 the end without having to worry abt overdoing it
– won’t have to worry about jobs+money