020918

[prismaticbleed]

february 9th. 5:39 pm.


we can't seem to stop bingeing.

we are so depressed in this apartment, when things get slow, and we're not alone.
MC & OV are sleeping on the couch, and all our brain can think to do is vomit, vomit, vomit. eat and throw it up. over and over, for hours. seeking that clean, empty, blown-out feeling. why this? why always this?

what else would we do?

we could play video games, but they hold virtually no appeal for us anymore. we have three pokemon games to play, and one of the jewels is almost aching with the desire to build three more teams, to befriend that many more monsters, but… we keep avoiding it. why?
we can't play dishonored or sonic or nier, because the xbox is in the living room and MC uses it for three days and seven evenings a week, but we have the playstation and n64 all to ourselves if we want. we still haven't played kingdom hearts, or star ocean, or any of these other new games they have and we can try. worst case scenario, we can always replay klonoa. but… see, we've already done so so many times. it's not a wandering game. it's a goal-based game. and we just need to wander, through dunwall or station square or something. we need that freedom to roam, to be free.

maybe we should walk. but no. then someone keeps trying to go to restaurants and spend all our money.
WHY IS IT ALWAYS FOOD. WHY.

”where else would we go," they ask. "what else would we do?"
ultimately, though, they know the truth, and are just misrouting it in the only way it has been routed so far.
we want to just… go inside. find somewhere safe to rest, to turn off the world, to withdraw into our soul and just stay there. eating is the closest we can get, currently. an hour of preparing, an hour of eating, an hour of purging. three solid hours unconscious and unaware of the world.
why can't we just sleep or something. please god. why.

so here we are typing. god we miss this. we miss this so much it's a physical ache.
we still want to go back to pennsylvania for this sole reason-- for being so isolated that all we can do, all freaking day, is type and browse tumblr and listen to spotify. that's it. yeah it uses up the hours, but it's crushingly depressing. we want to DO something with this life, for others.
but then again, that's why we exist as a system.
THAT'S what we need to focus on.

we keep saying how desperately we want to reach out to the mental health community at large, but specifically tailored to those sharing our diagnoses, except we can't reach out if we don't do any work first.
we need to start that creative website. we need to practice drawing, get that avatar maker started. we need to organize our OWN files-- personal jargon, spectrum color theory, system mechanics, all of that. and we love that. we adore it.
so why aren't we doing it?

executive dysfunction, possibly. whatever it's called. it feels like a bloody lazy-ass excuse. "I'm so overwhelmed I can't even get up to get a drink of water because I keep massively dissociation." hence, "I want to type but my brain is so burnt out I can't drag it to anything other than self-abusive kitchen loops because that's all hyperautomated behavior and it knows it wants to do something but that's the only thing it can manage in this addled of a state." essentially. it sucks, but at least we're more aware of it than ever, and with time and courage and sheer iron-will determination, we can kick this to the curb for good. I swear it. even if we have to put literal signs up all over the kitchen. not words, mind you-- if there's one thing that's been proven over and over, it's that the lotophagoi don't understand words. they don't. words are too fluid, too mangled, too manipulatively associated, too easily redefined. "don't eat this" turns into a nonsensical "don't" taped to the beginning of an "eat this." a guilt-ridden warning, and then an order. guess which one gets the most terrified attention from a kid growing up in a codependent household. yeah, the second one. even if you're sick and terrified, that subtle command is too scary to not follow, "just in case." just in case what? they don't know. they never knew. they just learned to do what they were told, like frightened mice, like numb robots, with no life outside of that context.
we're sick of it. we're sick of it.
our lucky brothers. they never had to make a meal in their life, when we left. everyone made their meals for them, and brought them right into their room, setting plates on beds and computer desks to grow cold until they felt like eating. no pressure! no obligation! but we, we had to shop and cook and prepare and eat and it was so unbelievably exhausting, and we didn't even have our own room to go to, although iscah tried to eat there after upmc, that shared bedroom, and although she tried so so hard it still backfired because that room should be SAFE and eating is NOT SAFE so it just… failed. either way, we were still the ones doing the buying-cooking-preparing work, so that sucked out all our spoons before we even picked one up to literally use. it was a mess and we're tired of it.

anyway.
speaking of iscah. we're still uploading her papers. that's the last leg of the archive effort, which we will probably kick into high gear tomorrow night, when the broken arrows go to work-- or, at least, once we go through the hvnotes file folder to make sure all of that is uploaded, first. would you believe, the first few files already weren't? we were, quite frankly, shocked! the original "thoughts file" was missing entirely, for one, and it still isn't complete because we KNOW there is data erased from the current copy but god only knows where the oldest original one is. we'll look for it right now, actually. pray it's not on that poor failing external drive.
…aand BINGO, there it is, along with-- holy sharks-- ALL the differing save file backup copies. WHAT THE HECK. except it's in the league file folders, no wonder we couldn't find this thing. praise the lord, seriously. backing that stuff up to our folder r/n btw

all right, awesome. done and done.
problem #2 is that a lot of the files in the current hvnotes folder have the wrong date assigned to them, so they're out of order and that's why we haven't seen them yet in their actual temporal year sections. but the file details will have the right into.
I just… this morning, we were thinking about how much we lost, and thank GOD for even early

btw, sherlock is NOT the main speaking/social archivist (no duh), but neither is wattson!!! it's this GRAY GUY who has PROBABLY been being confused with sherlock for years. but he's QUITE different. no glasses, different vibe, no suit or formal appearance to sherlock's extent that we can tell.

god we're so depressed. we feel it now. we need human connection, or something, not just this typing. or do we? yeah, we do, why do you think we stayed in that abusive environment? it was still attention. your mother did the same bloody thing with her abusive boyfriends, and you know it, and you hated that she did that because it pissed you off that she wouldn't look for something better but you were even more pissed off and terrified because you did the same thing in not only letting your birth family push you about, but in looking for abusive relationships outside of the family as well. oh we know this. we know you're STILL thinking about it, and you can't deny that either.

I don't think our stomach likes canned fish. we had some yesterday and we got super sick. someone (from the mindset we're tuning into now, actually-- past-lagged) was confused because, when we were in high school (pre-2018, pre-headspace awakening), we constantly claimed that tunafish was one of our favorite foods. same with peanut butter, same with other things that we can't quite remember offhand. but now, we don't like those things, at all. we tried tuna several times since moving out here and it actually nauseates us. what happened? "is that valid," our collective brain thinks, speaking through joshua again? "if she liked them, and she was our "default identity" for so long, are we allowed to not like those things if SHE does, and SHE is who most other people see us as?"
good question. the answer is yes.


we keep wanting to find a church that's open all day so we can just sit in it, but we said that in PA too, and even when we did, ultimately all we were doing was the same tragic thing we were doing when we wandered stores for hours, or binged for hours, or sliced our skin open for hours, or browsed tumblr for hours, or ANYTHING that ate time like nobody's business. we were just trying to die without dying.
we've talked about this already, here in NC. why do we keep forgetting it?
because we need to keep reminding ourselves. typically we don't remember a single thing we write after we write it, because it's coming from a totally different state of conscious mind, and so unless we read and review it afterwards, typically two or three or five times, we won't remember, let alone know, what it actually said at ALL. that's a fact. we've know this for years. we need to ACT on it.
hence the "old important entries to review" tag on our archives, which we WILL also act upon once the upmc and hvnotes papers are all in there. we can't wait, quite frankly. we cannot wait to start reviewing this stuff and writing about it and re-connecting to the WHOLE of our heart, our history, our self.
typing that I feel the Core waking up. the lotus-heart. that's good, that we can get his attention, and all of headspace wakes up with him.
but then we're 100% inside and that's a GOOD thing except depression keeps yanking us back out into the physical?
we want to archive NOW. but we have no internet access on here.
maybe we can just type in those papers. let's see.

love you guys. even those socials and hurting folks. we all love you, even if we can't express it directly, or understand the words. love is proven in what we do. we know this. I know this, I see it and feel it regardless of format. so we'll continue to show that love to each other and ourselves by unashamedly doing what we NEED to do for our total true internal and external health, which means no whitewashing, no bleaching, no forced optimism. things are pretty fractured in some places but god knows it's still a beautiful life even with them sparkling their shattered edges under the sun.
we're going to type. it's the smartest thing we can do right now. see you later.