Entries tagged with mood: slipping

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080923

Placeholder post.

We haven't been updating much lately because our life schedule has suddenly changed very dramatically.

At the end of July, our sister was, tragically once again, booted from her rented room because the renter refused to put her on the lease. She had barely been there a month.
This time, thank God, our mother took her up the homestead to at least stay on the porch, although our brother (the only person who lives there currently) was not happy with it at all, due to past trauma with our sister (when she was terrifyingly abusive; we remember too). Nevertheless there was no other option.

Anyhow. Since they now were at a very rural address, but still had to keep their job in order to save up money to get a new place, they needed to use our grandmother's old car, which we have been using up to this point.

So. As of... July 29th, it looks like, we have no car.

This is devastating for one huge reason:
We cannot get to daily Mass now.

Oh, technically we "could," but to do so would require a 15m run at 7am through a strange town wearing heaven knows what, probably sleep-deprived and in pain, the whole time panicking over health concerns (the heat is killing us) and the risk of getting mugged and/or assaulted again during the journey.
I kid you not, the very first night we had no car, we sat on the couch for two hours and just shook with terror at the very thought of going outside among people in town.
We never realized just how apparently agoraphobic we were.

So. Moral panic has been suffocating. This feels, in a very real way, like a punishment, or even a sentence of damnation. "You didn't revere the Eucharist enough, so now you have been banned from it" BUT ALSO, "if you REALLY loved God, you would forget your panic attacks and other risk factors and risk your life to get to Mass every morning! Since you're NOT, then you actually hate God, you are a moral coward, and God will abandon you like you are abandoning Him."
We can't function. Our conscience screams at us all day as a result of this.

Our schedule has changed dramatically as well.
It's booked solid and it is exhausting. It's made us realize, disturbingly, that we STILL have some demented bent to our personality that makes us want to assign every second to a plan, like that horrid life-board in The Little Prince, and why? Is it because we were raised that way? Or is it because we're terrified of what will happen if we have unassigned time?
It all seems to boil down to religious fear.
Right now, our schedule is roughly this:

- Wake up & drag poor body out of bed (~10m)
- Wake up house, wash up, small morning prayer (~30m)
- Get on exercise bike; say rosary, St. Bridget prayers, DVM chaplet, watch Mass (~90m)
- Prep breakfast & clean, say wall prayers if able (~60m)
- Eat and do Bible study (~150m)
- Clean up (~30m)
- Cope with postprandial hell by saying altar prayers & phone psalms (~60m)
- Say wall prayers if missed earlier (15m)
- Get on exercise bike & say prayer cards, eternal rests, & small chaplet (40m)
- Prep dinner & clean (30m)
- Eat & do Bible study (~60m)
- Night cleanup (~60m)
- Say any extra prayers needed (~20m)
- Divine Office prayers during day (~30m)
- ACTUAL FREE TIME ;____; (~180m to 240m depending on how exhausted we are)
- SLEEP (8h ideal, may be shrunk to 6 depending on schedule overflow)

By the time we hit that free-time window it's always 9-10pm, and we are so exhausted that, like tonight, we really just want to collapse in bed, but then that means we get NO MENTAL REST and when we wake up the cycle starts all over again.

But you see the problem. I know the minutes are approximate but I assure you, when we're living it, we do NOT stop moving until we sit down at this computer at night.
Our body feels so sick. We're so tired. We're getting heart palpitations and muscle spasms and tingly limbs & brainfog. We don't know if it's the heat, or the biking, or our diet, or what. All we know is that it's honestly scary to feel this unwell and to also feel like we can't rest, ever.

This is exactly how we were living with the eating disorder in full swing.

We would spend ALL our time either prepping food, or eating food, or purging food, BUT the WHOLE TIME we were ALSO PRAYING. We did like 6 hours of Bible Study a day. We always had Universalis or EWTN or Bishop Barron playing on our phone, so the apartment was never quiet, and we would never be able to think.
When everything was done and we had feebly tried to restabilize our body, we would collapse in bed only to repeat the entire cursed schedule the next day. And so it went for months.

...
What are we doing?
We don't even have time to do laundry because "we can't spare those two hours, we won't be able to fit our prayers into the schedule right!!" and then we'll end up staying up two hours later just to say them, no matter how tired we are, or how badly we want to cry from sheer fatigue, or how hard it is to form a coherent thought at that hour.
But the moral panic won't let us. It screams at us for not doing that mile run every morning, although the very thought of going out in public makes us want to vomit, and we're already dizzy & trembling from Lord knows what. We feel so sick all the time. We're staying hydrated, right? What are we doing wrong?

Everyone in the System is so angry. It's an awful sort of anger, something bitter and raw, and the person expressing it the most is Chaos 0 which speaks VOLUMES as to its cause and reach.
I have been talking to him. Despite all the pain & confusion & frustrated tears, neither of us has walked out or denied anything. We're talking, we're being honest, we're bringing it all out into the open.
But everything hurts.

We're getting a headache now. Nausea won't go away. Body still twitchy, dizzy, weak. Why?

I just wanted to update. Sorry I can't say much more tonight. We really don't feel good at all.

Oh, we're almost out of food too. That's the other worry with the car. We need it for Friday or we're going to run out, literally. Food stamps just came in so that's why we didn't buy anything yet. If we do one big order we can get 2 weeks worth in one trip. That'll work.

Honestly we're afraid of ending up in the hospital, or rather, the emergency room. 9-hour wait times when you're feeling this woozy are a nightmare in and of themselves. That's what we're scared of. We also no longer have transportation, because Astra used to be our drive home but now she's across the country. So we'd have to take a 2-hour bus ride home, which again is going to trigger the panic, especially if we're in E.R. clothes. I can't think about that risk right now.

All we can do right now is try to calm down, and pray, and sleep. Maybe we won't bike as long tomorrow. Maybe our body is too tired, maybe it needs a break. We've been doing 2 hours of biking a day for... nine days in a row now? It keeps our body & brain stable enough TO say the prayers. We're afraid that if we try to sit down and pray, the fatigue will crash into us so hard we'll just want to rest, both our mind and our body, and praying will become almost impossible. We'll fall asleep instead. We'll start crying like a child and begging for rest, please I need a break, I know I have two hours of prayers to say yet but please, everything hurts. My brain is a tangled mess. I can't wait until 9pm to breathe. Please, I need to just exist in quiet for a while.
But no. The moral panic screams. "IF YOU REFUSE TO PRAY, GOD WILL REFUSE TO LISTEN TO YOU WHEN YOU CRY FOR HELP. JUST WATCH. IF YOU DON'T PRAY, YOU'LL FALL INTO SIN, AND GOD WILL LET YOU FACE THOSE CONSEQUENCES." etc etc.

Our mother... has said some very very scary things lately. I don't want to slander her by writing them here, like we used to. Is that slander? I don't want to hurt her.
Maybe I can list one. She called yesterday, asking about whether or not we still had this one crochet dollbox she made for us as a kid. I said yeah, we kept it, we keep our few jewelry items in it. She said oh thank goodness, I thought you kids threw out everything I made you. There was a lot of bitter hurt veiled in that statement. Then she said, effectively, "I don't know what's wrong with you kids. I bought you ALL these things that you could hand down to your kids, or have as collections, and you just don't care! You either sell them or throw them out. I don't get it!" and then, I quote, "I would have KILLED to have the things you kids have! My parents never bought me ANYTHING."
...And suddenly I realized, oh my gosh, that's why we don't get along.
Her "language of love" is THINGS.
I never realized just how high a priority she put on material possessions. I always wondered why she can't resist buying things, or telling me to buy things, or buying things and forcing them on me. She hoards so much and refuses to get rid of it, even when it causes her distress. She wants things so badly. She constantly complains about how "she never got what she wanted" as a child. I never realized she meant things.
...And here I am, not caring a jot about most material things, and she probably sees that as hatred towards her. She shoves all this stuff at me and, to me, it feels like assault, or some strange torture, even spitework... but for her, it might actually be an expression of love.
...
We had this same problem in CNC, of course. Our "love languages," both in the "relationship" and in daily life, were completely opposed. We kept trying to learn their language but it was such a farce, it was so forced, it was poisoning us but we never let on. But we tried, God knows we tried. We regret it catastrophically, we still haven't forgiven ourself for it-- and God knows we're trying to do that too-- but at the time, it was programming. We automatically tried to mold ourselves into their shape.

The reason I bring this up is, in part, because this is weirdly affecting our perception of prayer.
We have this bizarre and disturbing idea that, "you can't ask God to help you, because the TRUTH is that NOT helping you IS the best "help" for you!!" Basically, if I say "God, I feel really sick and scared, can you help me out?" I fear, "Well, you being sick and scared is what you need. So that IS helping." etc. It hit me today that we see God as treating us like our parental figures did as a child. Always watching, always calling me out on what I did wrong, always critical, always "a catch" or "a consequence" that they were ready to slam down on me, smiling all the while. Shouting orders at me then calling me a "good girl." etc. It's not God. It can't be God. Can it? If I don't follow every little order I hear in my head, it's my funeral, because I'm "refusing to obey God." It keeps me so scared, all the time. I'm so afraid of accidentally committing a mortal sin by doubting a command, or worse, by choosing not to because I'm too tired, or "I wasn't sure I heard properly," or something equally stupid. Really it's because I'm scared. Kiss the feet on the picture when you walk by, or you don't really love Him. Say that prayer three more times, or you're cheating the souls in Purgatory. Say that prayer over, you messed up a word and if you don't correct it, you're snubbing the Lord. etc.

I still feel so far away from God.

I'm so far away from the System.

We don't talk anymore. We can't. We're so bloody tired. We're all falling to pieces, we're all so hurt and angry and I don't know WHY, it's just this ubiquitous heartache and none of us know how to handle it.

There's so much guilt and shame over doing anything that's NOT explicitly "worship." If I listen to music while on the bike, I feel Mary shaking her head at me, sadly, disappointed in me. But she KNOWS that music helps us FEEL the prayers, and it keeps the intrusive thoughts quiet, but no, "it's secular music," it's what pagans do, you need for everything to be QUIET, so it's JUST GOD.
No music. No movies. No books. No internet. No System. Nothing but God. Pray more. Add another hour. And run to church already, if you get harrassed or faint on the way, that's martyrdom! Isn't that what you want??

Honestly I'm going to be brutally honest and Lord forgive me but I

I want to live with the System again. I want us to be ALIVE TOGETHER again. I want to talk to everyone and love them and learn with them. I want us all to pray TOGETHER but also to go upstairs and BE, to learn about ourself and heal and grow and forgive and dream... I want to work on the LEAGUE, I miss them so much, I feel so ashamed of them now, after they were almost robbed from me I felt like God was saying "you don't deserve them" but ALSO "they're with the pagans where they belong, YOU focus on GOD" BUT I ONLY KNEW GOD THROUGH THE LEAGUE, MY CHILDHOOD UPBRINGING SURE DIDN'T TEACH ME ABOUT GOD'S CHARACTER AS MUCH AS ALL THE LOVE IN THE LEAGUE DID.
Catechesis is one thing. Life is another. You CANNOT separate the two.
Praying for 7 hours a day is making me miserable. Yes I love God and I love what I'm learning and I do love praying, but... it still feels... something is wrong. Something is missing. I dread waking up and doing it all again tomorrow. I'm so tired.
I still want to pray. I still want to worship. But I don't exist right now. I still don't know who I am.
"You're a Christian," I hear that curt female voice say. "You don't need any other identity than that."
They smirk and sneer at Jewel. "Martyr yourself," they say. "Burn everything for God. Nothing matters but him."

NO STOP THAT'S WHAT THE KAKOFONI DID IN THE PAST THAT'S HOW WE ALMOST LOST EVERYTHING

It deserves to be lost. It's hollow, empty, nothing. It's worthless. The only thing you need is your Bible and your Rosary. Everything else can go to hell where it belongs.

What about the talents God gave us???

Those aren't "talents," those are delusions.

...
That's... that's our biggest fear, on Jewel's level, isn't it.
God "blessed" us with all those ideas, with the penchant for words and music, but... it all rotted away, or was stolen, or lost. So was it all just an illusion? Was it all just... some stupid fake game? Did any of it mean anything?

YES IT DID, YES IT DID YOU KNOW THAT'S THE ONLY TIME YOU CAN FEEL THINGS IS IN THE LEAGUE, YOU KNOW THE LOVE AND LIGHT AND COLOR THAT IS IN THERE, GOD IS SPEAKING TO YOU IN IT

I hope so, God Himself knows I hope so, that's all we've ever wanted the League to be, is a signpost and a mouthpiece for Him, for the beauty of our faith, that's what we knit into it even as a child--

what are we even talking about.

i am so, so, so tired.

i'm tired of being sick. i'm tired of being scared. i'm tired of being alone. i'm tired of being numb.

we have a therapist on friday. maybe that'll wake something up.

until then i give up. i'm going to give this body some sleep

i can feel we would be crying right now if we weren't so burnt down to ashes inside
we don't even remember what crying feels like
all we know is that there's an abyss of grief in our ribcage that won't go away

why is the body so sick.

i'm so tired

wow this entry is a mess i apologize.

okay we're dissocitating to madb abdbadly to type anymore bye

Entry tags:

how did you get so far away

I have exactly ten minutes before I need to sleep but I cannot be ignoring headspace anymore.

Infi died last night.

...

On Friday morning-- I think? it happened so fast-- we had a traumatic dream hack, but it didn't target me... it used Infi.
Ze couldn't cope. Ze hasn't gotten over CNC and honestly at this point I was thinking ze never would, with how Black's terrible softness holds everything forever, and wounds don't heal in that space; a gash in that velvet dark bleeds eternally.

There was some sort of headspace event, as we got ready for church (the first 40m or so after we wake up, it is virtually impossible to front; the mind is so dissociated and blurry that we don't have a solid sense of self, let alone the ability to have a conscious person grab the nebulous steering wheel)-- we were IN the bodyspace, in what looked like the same "ribspace" we had been in years ago, when Infi fell to the bottom of the lavatubes with all the beetles, and I had to carry hir out. Ze was in my arms again, now. I forget why, God I forget why--

The next thing I remember was being in blackspace, holding a lightblade, and cutting the whitewomb out of Infi as I wept. It felt so wrong-- not the action, but that part of hir. It felt like an infestation-- like EXACTLY how our traumatized psyche defines such a thing in meatspace, no exceptions.
It felt so wrong. I'm shivering in disgusted horror just remembering the fragments. Infinitii insisted I remove it, remember. I refused at least two times. Ze said I must, if I don't get it out ze will try to rip it out hirself, or die rather than have that in hir anymore.
This was all a response to the hack. Ze could not live with the reality of it. The worst part is I didn't blame hir.

When I first plunged the blade in the sphere turned almost opaque, like it cracked wrong, it lost its translucent bubble look and became something diseased, something plasticine and pliable instead of glassy crystal. I was trying to cut it out and Infi TURNED OFF ALL HIR MOUTHS because otherwise ze would be screaming in pain. I knew. But ze would rather endure this than the alternative.

I remember the sphere splitting open at the top all of a sudden and I wanted to vomit from the kneejerk horror of it. I jabbed the blade in behind it and tried to gore it out immediately but suddenly the sphere moved on its own??? like it was an ENTITY. slithered out like hexxus, same horrible sticky-tar movement, but white. it was PLAGUED. it had that same stupid awful mouth and no eyes and those vestigial arms, trying to run away from me, but i was furious for some reason and I can't recall what i did. i just lost it. i think i set it on fire, or stabbed it to death, or burned it with light energy, or all three. i don't know. all i know is that i felt actual hatred seeing that thing crawl out of infi's abdomen and i wanted to kill it.

something very brief happened here, with me praying about this??? realizing that fighting corruption with vicious emotion will only exacerbate it ultimately. ended up praying? some vague vision of jesus just calmly grabbing the plague-worm and disintegrating it into powder with a touch. no violence, just that terrifyingly subtle omnipotence.

everything is a morning-blur from a week ago so please forgive me.
i know around here the body started to "wake up" so social girls started thinking "what's this headspace crap, i don't need to pay attention to this or remember it, it's wasting my attention and memory and i don't care. i'll just decide it didn't happen."

i quote. they literally thought that. "this is all in my imagination, it's just a made-up stupid thought, so IF I DECIDE IT'S NOT REAL, THEN IT ISN'T."
those freaking social girls LITERALLY think that THEY have the power and authority to ignore us out of existence if we're an inconvenience to them.
it is the most hypocritical, cold-blooded, stone-hearted thing in the world. i want to sob.

that's why nothing is written down and why i'm now desperately trying to write something out at midnight while chronically sleep-deprived because I keep reaching into that space in my heart where ze should be and has been for ten freaking years and suddenly ze's not.

...

those cursed girls couldn't erase the truth though.
they tried, tried to unravel things while they were still happening. i FOUGHT. i would NOT let them pretend this wasn't happening because it annoyed them.
infi was... melting. something. with that whitewomb gone hir form just started to literally decay from the plexus down, going all soft like kinetic sand or molten glass or the end of the world. hir "flesh" became intensely glitterdense too, in those spaces-- that rainbow shimmer that pure Black energy always carries was so sharply visible it looked as if the very atoms were sparkling as they slid apart.

i wanted to heal hir. i wondered if i should take hir to azurai, in the dreamworld leagueworld, like we did for xenophon when she was dying a decade ago. but ze said no. "don't you dare," almost. already hir eyes glassing over, still lying there with hir lower half liquefying. hir upper half catching rigor mortis. disintegrating statuesque. a nightmare.
desperate to do something and fighting time and socials, afraid of picking hir up lest ze fall apart in my arms, i warped the entire mindscape to whatever level matched the frantic weeping in my heart. we ended up somewhere small and floating, an isolated pocket of space, something green and white with an aura of peaceful quiet. it felt like time was moving very slowly there, if at all.
i placed hir on some dreamvague facsimile of a hospital bed, surrounded by that emerald green, and that's all i remember.

i... it's been so strange. so terrible.

the past week, whenever I feel something that matches hir vibe, or when i expect hir to speak up, when something would ping hir, or catch hir attention... there's nothing. there's that empty, hollow bubblespace, that is now fractured like a shattered snowglobe and slowly fading into nothingness. it's not even black or white anymore, it's greying out. it's like an actual bubble right before it pops. it's falling to pieces.
infi's not there.
infi's in some unmappable crumb of reality that no one else can find, a fragment of place, something i could hold in my palm. god i wish i could hold hir but i
i can't, i can't move hir, ze's losing the capacity to even be interacted with, everything is bleeding back into that colorsink void--

laurie knew. i forget how. was she there on friday? did i tell her? i don't remember.
she's the only one who knew. we were in some sort of mindscape together at some point, something scary like an arctic tundra at midnight. dusty bleach below, shineless nothing above. an inexplicable wind, the manifestation of fear even in the waking world, that brutal whip of unseen violence threatening to take itself weaponized out of your burnt-raw lungs.

today. oh lord today. what even happened.
i woke up and everything was wrong

last night, tuesday, i don't even remember,
i... was i talking to hir? what happened? when?
so much in the physical realm has been getting in the way, devouring our schedule, i didn't have time to even sleep, i couldn't front, i wasn't there, we're all just trying to survive, but you were dying,
and the worst part is you wanted to.

last week ze said ze didn't. ze wanted to live, to love, with me, to try again, to try better, to do better, something... but then there was that hack. it made the trauma of past regrets real in the present, unbearable, unignorable. you can't live with that in your line of sight, i know. and infi didn't want to.

something happened, god please what happened,
all i remember is weeping and kneeling next to hir as everything around us turned black as a moonless night and slowly melted into oblivion. like the very fabric of reality was rotting. god it was terrifying, there was no sound, no depth, it was all just dead,

laurie was with me then. i remember us standing in an endless blankwhite field with huge shards of broken glass around us for miles.
we couldn't get out of there. i couldn't warp it, we were in shock and scared, it felt like someone had just cut out my heart,
we ended up shouting for leon with all our strength and he DID show up. thank God oh thank God, you do realize that boy has an "EXCEPTION" tagged to his soul, like in moralimon he has the ability to jump anywhere. nothing can stop him.
he brought us to his cathedral and laurie and i were sobbing, still in so much shock, we didn't know what to say or do

i really couldn't front for the rest of the day. laurie stayed in the background too.

i kept reaching into my chest and feeling the missing rib and the space where there should be someone

this is all wrong

but.

remember why infi wanted to die. why ze let this happen. why i cannot forget that last glance, that look from hir eyes wide and bleary, like they were seeing the death of the universe. little did ze know,
please
remember why. why. the same reason you did, you cupid cephalophore, whenever the hacks got so bad the system itself stopped running right. you hit the bloody reset button. you took a knife to the optical disc. you took a magnet to the tape. you desperately tried to delete time itself, you tried to backspace the story of your life, you tried to erase this and start over, please, go back to a time before THAT happened.

you always used to dream of dying and coming back different. like this hell was just a bad dream.
that's exactly what infi did
soft reset, melt reset, world reset, hope god puts us back together better

infi's original timeline was hell, you remember that. the daemon era was the most traumatic one we had, all things considered.
yes, everything hit a dead stop with the fugue in 2019, but no one literally RESET the timeline. THE ERA DIDN'T HARDSHIFT.
yes, mostly everyone died and headspace collapsed, but no one tried to load a new game, so to speak. it was just left in shambles. we STILL haven't rebuilt.
those who have come back DID come back different, but so unstable, and shaky, and mutable even now. there's nothing new and solid FOR them to anchor into. there's no clear cut space to stand in. there's no new world, no sunrise yet, no "let there be light," not yet...

infi dying is going to require a hard reset

you too.
ze's your heart, you idiot, you know the whiteslot is just as corrupted and sick, what do you think you cut out of hir??
what happened to your blackblood? have you looked at it lately? who are you really, nameless echo of a boy? are you even alive enough to die?

we've been in the tomb for almost FIVE YEARS, do we even know what life is anymore??

god help us.

i don't want anyone else to die
i couldn't bear it
the thought of seeing anyone else lying in blood would destroy me completely

but so does the thought of living this haunted halflife, unable to move on because we don't know where we're moving from or towards
you can't kill a beast if you can't see where to set the crosshairs.
we need to man up, face whatever we're running from,
and then bury a bullet between its eyes

if we don't do something sharp and conscious and real, we're all going to die anyway

we've died before and thank God we're still here, there's still a reason for us to exist,

i think we can bank on that. i know. there's too much love here, please, i know there is, i can feel it tonight, inbetween the tears, filling up that void in my chest with weeping red ache

infi said that if ze came back ze wanted to be something completely new.
new name, new face, new life. death to the old. death to the hacks and the corruption. start over soul.

how long will it take? will the daengels survive here? will they move to heartspace instead, enter the league, leave our loop?

what will happen to me, still splinter-frayed to the past white-haired ghosts, those doomed men, gutted pink with veins running black? if infi is dead, what goes for them? will their bloodline stop completely? what will happen to me?

who am i, without hir?
what sort of new era is this? what new life will this become?

god knows i've been praying for this though
i need to pray more about it

lord keep us safe from the hollow girls
keep us safe from the barren chatterboxes
from the numb and eyeless automatons
from the manic shrieking drivers
keep us safe, please, you know they have no hearts,
you know they can't pray or love at all,

please keep us safe

please.

reset us.
reset us, lord.
hit the reset button for us all. whatever that means.
whatever started to break in cnc, snap it clean in half
give us a hard end, a final page, a closing of this book,
please,
give us the cross to die on,
give us the empty tomb in the lily-gilded morning.

give us a new era
give us a new life
give us new hearts for you and for each other
scrub out the tar
wash out the plague
saturate us with light and fire and hope
give us a rainbow after the storm.

i'm too scraped-out to talk any more
i'm falling into automated speech and that would be blasphemous here

i cannot see tomorrow, i never could, it's all in God's hands

right now all i have is five hours of sleep and this fiercely inexorable hope in my heart
bright red and weeping still
but there will be a sunrise
there will be a sunrise
and it will light up the moon

death is only a door

please,
let me find you waiting on the other side.

Entry tags:

110422

This is a cross. This is a literal cross. It's meant to kill me, as DESERVED RETRIBUTION for all the sins I have committed through the eating disorder. I deserve this. I really do deserve this. This is just deserts, for the YEARS of sin.
For gorging myself with junk, I am now FORCED to do so. For the thousands of times I vomited, I now ALWAYS have to feel like I'm about to puke. For all the stress I caused my family, I now have CHRONIC anxiety & panic attacks. For all my dehydration, I now can't even STOMACH water. For the abuse of my stomach, it is now causing ME unending pain & nausea. For all the money I wasted, I now have NO accessible funds OR freedom of purchases. For all the bad thoughts I had, I now have SO many headaches. For all my insistence on allergies, I now CANNOT properly breathe on a regular basis. For all the "self-idolatry" of thinness, my body is now BLOATED & STIFF & MONSTROUS, incapable of being admired or boasted in. For all those years of disordered eating & control obsession, my life is now FORCED to revolve around "refeeding" & "weight restoration" & NO CONTROL AT ALL.
I have been stripped of everything, beaten justly, and NAILED TO THIS CROSS.
I am realizing that now. There IS NO ESCAPE and there CANNOT BE, not until I DIE.
And I can't decide on when, either. It's ALL in God's hands.
...And that is my ONLY HOPE.
Yes, I am suffering through HELL now, and for the rest of my life-- BUT. IT'S ALL A CROSS. IT'S JUST PUNISHMENT. IT'S PENITENTIAL. And if I join my Patron, Dismas, in his humble contrite acceptance, and TURN TO CHRIST WITH REPENTANCE, then even when I DO DIE FROM THIS, I'LL ALREADY HAVE SUFFERED HELL. I'll have ACCEPTED my sentence and THE WILL OF GOD IN IT. And then when I die, IF I have TRUSTED IN CHRIST ALONE TO SAVE ME, then ALL this hellish suffering is MY DEBT BEING PAID. It is MY BLOODY & BLESSED SHARE IN THE PASSION OF CHRIST. God has GIVEN ME THE OPPORTUNITY TO DO EXPLICIT PENANCE FOR MY SINS BEFORE I DIE. If I die with Christ ON THIS CROSS, in the SAME WAY HE DID-- with LOVING SURRENDER & TRUST IN GOD & COURAGEOUS SUFFERING FOR THE SAKE OF OTHERS-- then I will BE WITH HIM WHEN I DIE.
If I embrace the Cross, for the love of Jesus, every pain will be TRANSFORMED into a redemptive sacrifice!! If I STOP TRYING TO "FIGHT" & CHEAT & STARVE & "GET THIN" AGAIN, not to be healthy but out of FEAR & HATE & REJECTION, and instead SURRENDER TO THE REALITY GOD HAS PLACED ME IN-- a reality of POVERTY & ACCOUNTABILITY & HONESTY & INTEGRITY & LIFE & HARDWORK & SACRIFICE & COURAGE & HUMILITY-- then I will have the PEACE OF CHRIST, which CONQUERS THE WORLD. But please, you MUST remember that VICTORY BELONGS TO GOD ALONE, and GOD IS LIFE & TRUTH & LOVE. God is gentleness & patience & joy, longsuffering & generosity & kindness, the SOURCE & SUMMIT OF ALL HOPE. The ONLY way we CAN survive this "hell" is by LETTING CHRIST "HARROW" IT.
EMBRACE THE CROSS!! Please! Do it with LOVING TRUST!! Have FAITH!! Yes this is painful & scary & difficult but GOD IS STILL IN CONTROL & THIS IS STILL FOR YOUR HIGHEST GOOD. You cannot halfass this. You CANNOT love halfheartedly! GOD DEMANDS YOUR ALL, and RIGHTEOUSLY SO-- because when you give ALL to God, the devil gets NOTHIN'!!
So chin up, kiddo. God knows what He's doing AND where we're going, so hold His Hand, set your face towards the Light, and WALK WITH HIM!!

Entry tags:

110122

...I'm being discharged within a week and I have absolutely no idea what's going to happen, let alone what to do. For starters, I just got an absolute BOMBSHELL of a life update from mom: my finances are ENTIRELY under the control of the government now, which means I NO LONGER GET ANY PAPER MONEY. I STILL have no lamp, eating area, working laptop, or cookware. I have no groceries and quite frankly I don't want any. Yes, I'm serious. This is day 46 of treatment, I have about 5 more to go, and I am listening to all the new kids sobbing about "how big their stomachs have gotten" and "how much they hate the food" and I am seeing all the thin & fit & slender employees walking around in blissful ignorance of our turmoil and I'm telling you, I do NOT plan on eating when I get home. I don't want to look or feel like this. I'm bloated & sick & miserable & lost. It hurts to eat. I CONSTANTLY want to puke. I hate how round and chubby this body has gotten. I hate feeling like my stomach is about to rupture. There's no relief. I'm so sick of food. I'm sick of ice cream, sick of chocolate, sick of chips, sick of tomato sauce & cake & potatoes & butter & raisins & poptarts. I'm SO SICK OF FOOD. I'm heavier than I was in North Carolina and I WANT TO DIE. I want to die EVEN MORE than I did when I was sickly-thin & bingeing. At least I COULD be light & pure & empty. Now... now I have nonstop anxiety & nausea, headaches & stomach distress, trouble breathing & bad breath & sore swollen ankles. I'm too tired to fight anymore. I've gained 15 pounds in 6 weeks and it took me FIVE BLOODY YEARS to get it off LAST time. I'm tired.
I want to die. It sounds so utterly asinine but, looking & feeling this gross & sick & bloated & filthy, I don't even have HOPE anymore. When I was thin & pure I could at LEAST feel able to be loved, & to love even, IF I stopped overeating & throwing up. But NOW, now... I see nothing but sin in the mirror. I LOOK LIKE AN ABUSER. THE FLASHBACKS & TRIGGERS ARE BUILT INTO THIS F*CKING BODY NOW. I'm too tired to fight it anymore. I'm done. Let me die.
no. let this BODY die. PLEASE let ME live; let my SOUL live PLEASE for once in my life I WANT TO EXIST FOR ONCE
i'm sO so SO tiRED. I can't, i cant do it anymore. i cant im too sick too tired. im done its done
but they played chaos zero's song in the rec room today. and it rained when i woke up. and why is he always my reason left to live.
i asked him if he hated me today and he looked like his heart was about to break and he said NO, no he never could, no matter what.
and i believed that. i did. i believed him. even if i feel so ugly & ruined i cant doubt him. he's all grace & fidelity. even if i'm the most rotten and disgusting dishonorable fat pig on the planet. im sorry. but he KNOWS this ISN'T ME. and he loves me. always & forever.
i believe that. i do. God can I ever live up to that love? can i ever return it, looking and feeling like THIS?
i want to. God I want to LIVE IN HEADSPACE again. God I want to. please I want to join a gym & walk for hours listening to frost* & sonic music and just talking to everyone. that's all i can hope for. turn this bloated body into A BLOODY TANK or destroy it again we HAVE to starve it our or it'll EAT US. what do we do God what, what do we DO, we HAVE to keep eating here oh God im so tired i want to quit. please. i want the kilograms to go back down please
im so tired of feeling like im about to die. God is this my cross, AM i gonna die soon, please help me let it be a good one full of grace full of hope full of EMPTY NO WORLD ONLY GOD. no food no food non NONE OVER GONE.
sorry just. too much d i s s o c i a t i n g stOP. done for now bye

Entry tags:

032521

I am absolutely SEETHING with rage today. It’s all sensory overwhelm. I don’t know if Overload still exists, but she was Brown, and this is absolutely horribly VERMILLION. It’s like the horrible color of tomato sauce, which I HATE with a violent rage. It’s true. That's what set me off, is smelling the horrible garage smell—the smell of summer—the stink and color of tomato sauce over the kitchen, pasta on the floor and in the sink, crumbs over the counters, and HEAT everywhere—I wanted to die. I wanted to set everything on fire. I wanted to take an absolute bloody axe to every nearby surface until everything filthy was destroyed completely. And then I want to move to the absolute coldest state in America and cry and cry and cry until the internal pain and heat stops and goes away forever.

Can I just stick Chaos Zero in a freezer and have him hug me all day? Because I want to weep at how desperately I need him right now.

Entry tags:

022219

what in the world am I feeling about reading tbas's entries.

every time they mention me-- or rather, who I "was"-- it's somehow bitter. talking about how I wounded them, how I betrayed them, how they and I both "died" last year, how they "deserve better than what I did to them," etc.

I don't hate them; I'm not angry at them. but there's this horrible sadness of sorts in me from it?

we cannot be friends, not truly. not with our massively differing views on morality. that's the huge wall between us.

it's… dissonance.

it's reading about how they is so happy, how they're in love again, how their system is all in love, how they are apparently healing and growing and bettering themselves.

and amidst all that, talking about how terrible I was to them. how they are glad it's over. how they'd never want us back in their life. how there's this sort of vindication in it.

and yet, how they still says "[we're] beautiful" and that they "love us" and that they "hope we find peace."

it feels… jarring.

because I have found peace. I have found God. and yet they consider that insanity.

they sees my "system" as beautiful but not my faith, it seems. not my struggles to become truly moral and faithful.

and they claim they loves me-- and I don't doubt they do-- but it's that uncomfortable sort of response, of hearing "I love you, and therefore I want you to be different than you are now.” them feelings of love trapped on an old, false image of me.

if they met me now, if they had never met me before now, and knew me only as I am now-- as someone struggling with past sins and falsehoods and wrongdoing, as someone still struggling with sin, but who is pouring their entire heart and soul into their faith in response, into serving Christ, into the joy of that, of Scripture and prayer and contrition and laying my heart on His altar over and over again, weeping with hope-- if they saw me now, would they love me?

something sickened inside me says no, probably not. they'd pity me. they'd think I was "pretty" perhaps, but shake them head at my religion.

I think that's why I'm so sad.

the true me, the "me" reborn in Christ, is to them a lie. to them, I'm insane. I'm broken. I'm lost. to them, the "real me" is the "system" that lived in blatant shocking sin for a year with them, blinded by indulgent self-love, thinking that was true love, when in reality it was not.

disturbed because there was still caring and compassion and joy and yet in hindsight it all feels so hollow. how do I respond to that?

I cannot reconcile how they is apparently feeling now, with how I felt living with them, as them almost, and with how they are living now.

the fact that they is so happy, and thriving, and joyful, and yet they see nothing wrong with their sexual immorality, and their infidelity to religion…

but they're a better person than me.

I want to say they don't lie or steal, but they do, and admitted that to me openly. but who I am I to judge. I too have lied and stolen and I hate it.

do they? can they "hate" those sinful qualities in their heart? or will they try to "love them away" with the false love of daemons, that terrifyingly convincing farce of the devil that I fell victim to for years?

they believe their body and soul are innocent, are incapable of being evil. they do not believe in sin, I don't think. and they're so happy.

that's terrifying, to me. it makes me feel very very sick. it makes me wonder if I'm doing something truly sinful instead, to not be happy, to instead be hyperaware of my flaws and sins and grievous errors.

and yet they are wanting to knit things for homeless shelters. and they were always so nice to me.

that makes them a "good person," right?

"no one is good but God." mark 10:18.

found this.

"…although he had devoted himself to keeping the commandments, he had failed to keep the first and greatest of the commandments—love the LORD your God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your strength. The man’s riches were of more worth to him than God, and thus he was not "good" in the eyes of God… Jesus’ fundamental lesson theme is that goodness flows not from a man’s deeds, but rather from God Himself. Jesus invites the man to follow Him, the only means of doing good by God’s ultimate standard. Jesus describes to the young ruler what it means to follow Him—to be willing to give up everything, thus putting God first."

I need to meditate on that. maybe that'll be my Bible study tomorrow.

( I love Bible study so much; the thought of meditating on God forever makes me weep with JOY)

but… that's scary, to me. the fact that someone can indeed be "good" in the eyes of the world, and YET, if they don't put God first, they AREN'T TRULY "GOOD."

I'm not "good" yet. no. every time I sin I am bad, bad bad bad. every time I fall victim to sin and gluttony, to judgment, to pride, to anger… I am BAD. every time I lie or steal or connive or do something equally disgustingly selfish and sinful. I want to throw up just thinking about it. the fact that I CAN and HAVE done such atrocious things. I want to cry forever and rip out my hair wailing in sorrow.

does tbas ever feel that way?

I guess that's what scares me. I could never be truly their friend unless I knew that they did. and I don't think they can, with their worldview.

so when I see them doing kind and good things, and yet I know that they do not see themself as a sinner, even so, that hurts my brain and frightens me.

I don't know. that's all I can say for tonight. I'm realizing how bad I've been and how bad I was to them and I want to cry. I have to beg forgiveness. I have to admit it all, type it all out, beg forgiveness from God, heal, grow, learn, move closer to God.

right now I have to sleep and cry.

being a Christian is full of sorrow.

but where is my hope? where is my joy?

my hope and my joy are in the Lord, who made heaven and earth, who sent His only begotten Son to die for me and take away my sins… who loves me and loved me even when I was lost and drowning and blind in sin. he died for me then, even then, to SAVE me from sin, and call me home.

yes I'm an ugly wretched horrible sinner. I'm disgusting and filthy and worthless.

but I cannot despair. I cannot give in to that trick of the devil.

God, Jesus, is calling me to repentance, to lay my sins before Him so he can wash them away, and teach me to walk in the Light.

I need to lay those sins before him, truly. to let go of them, and be TRULY SORRY, and let Him hopefully in His great mercy forgive me and wash me clean of them.

but I cannot stop weeping. God console my poor wrecked heart. I have been so bad. I KEEP DOING BAD THINGS. I can't handle it.

God help me.

I need to sleep. I need to pray. these tears have purpose.

Jesus, into your hands I commend my wretched spirit. please, do with me as you will, but please, have mercy on my poor soul. I am naught but a worthless sinner but deep down in my heart of hearts I love you, for you first loved me, and allowed me to feel that love in return in the first place. without you I am nothing. please, do not abandon me, but call me ever closer to yourself, to your Divine Heart, so that I may learn how to please you, as well as any human possibly can in their poor fallen state.

Lord, help me. help me. I cannot do anything without you. I am so sad. HELP me. please. please I don't know what question to ask even but I beg the Holy Spirit to have mercy and intercede for me. hear the mourning and wailing of my poor wretched broken heart, and please heal me in a way that will serve Your greater good purposes. may thy will be done, and don't let me be a hypocrite.

bend me to your will. make me your suffering joyful servant. wrench me away from the jaws of sin. bind me to you forever. enslave me to your love. free me from the yoke of sin and pull me to yourself. you are all I want, dear God, even if that makes me sound like a liar. please. I could cry forever. I should cry forever. I am such a hypocrite and stupid sinful wretch. I love you, I want to be with you, I adore you, and yet I sin!!!! what is that???? it's hypocrisy. it's nauseating. I want to throw up. I can't stand sinning anymore. I could die from it. I AM dying from it.

God, Lord, Jesus Christ, Holy Spirit, save me. please.

I have nothing left in this world but you, and I want nothing more but you.

please. save me in your merciful love.

teach me, chance me, move me. help me to truly love you, as you want me to love you, as I should love you. help me to obey your every word and command, and inspire others to do the same. help me to truly love you. help me to love. amen.

goodnight.

Entry tags:

dead and dying

my soul has been corrupted here.

I realized it tonight. we were thinking of how much we missed going to church, going to eucharistic adoration, singing in the choir… and that STUPID BRAINLESS SOCIAL MODE THAT WAS BUILT FOR NC started thinking "no, no I don’t miss that" SHUT UP YOU NEVER EXPERIENCED IT YOU SELFISH WITCH

I hate this romance junk. I hate this relationship thing except I don’t and we really do care for OV but I'm sorry I just CANT STAND THIS SIMPERING ACT HE DOES SOMETIMES "are you okay" "I love you" "come be close to me" what the heck this is the SAME BLOODY THING Q DID they were both wonderful good people but we painted ugly ugly lying false pictures of them because we HATED this touchy feely hell and they did nothing wrong. they did nothing wrong.

my family
we miss our family so agonizingly much oh dear god we miss them so much
BUT OV thinks THEY'RE evil too because we've LIED. we've LIED and said horrible untrue toxic whiny cruel things about them for months and I am so gut-wrenchingly sorry I deserve to do all the penance in the world for this and I WANT TO.

I want to move back home. I want to move back in with my grandma and my mom and my brothers and I miss my dad and I miss grandpa, oh dear god he died, he's GONE, while I was out here in this NIGHTMARISH NORTH CAROLINA HELLHOLE what the heck am I even doing with my life, with our life, oh god, oh god I want to go home

I'm so sad it's making me sick. this is every single night now. every single night. every night

ten days. ten days left, just about. then we can finally go home. and we can start over, and we can be good, and we can be with family, and we can rest and sleep and relax and live and be happy WITHOUT this boy breathing down our neck because he loves us but we CAN'T DO A SINGLE THING WITHOUT HIM AND IT'S DRIVING US INSANE.
I just want to be alone again. alone with the family. alone in the house. alone and doing productive hands-on community service things but RESTING WHEN WE WANT and not having to be shackled to some "relationship" that's too close, too suffocating, to controlling, I can't stand this anymore

I want to go home and we're going home no matter what it takes but right now we just have to decide whether or not we're staying.
we have to go through our things. which clothes we want to keep. which papers we want to keep. everything else, we leave here.
I want to live out of a suitcase but I have too many stupid attachments to material things like books and plushies and I want to sob because I HATE THIS I want to just… go home, go home forever, I don't want to come back here, I don't want to do this anymore

I'm so tired. what do we do. what do we do.

we have to be there for grandma. until she dies. however long she stays with us I swear we WILL BE THERE NO MATTER WHAT. nothing matters more than her. that's the bottom line.

I want to stay for the snow, for christmas. god help me I am NOT going back into that subtropical hellscape when I could have cold weather and frost and heaven on earth. never again. never again, no heartless north carolina excuses for winters.

I'm tired
he's back inside I have to go
god I hate this so much I'm sorry

see you soon mom
thanks for never giving up on us
we love you. I swear.
we're coming home.

Entry tags:

010718

010718.
sunday.

We finally realized why Tobiko hasn't been the one purging anymore.

Food does not register as food.
We've been using food as a stim.

We've been using a LOT of things as stims, actually.
This explains the bathroom rituals.
We brush our teeth, floss, brush again, floss some more, use mouthwash, brush our teeth again, wash our face, wash our body, wash our hands, wash our face again… over and over and over and over. We do this for an hour, sometimes, just scrubbing at our gums and our flesh, scrubbing until we are red and raw sometimes. We do this in the shower, too-- we obsessively wash over and over and over, not even thinking that much about "being" clean as we are thinking about feeling clean. It's why we cut our nails down to the nubs and shave every hair off that we can reach. It's never about the end result, not literally. It's about how it feels. It's about purging everything that hurts in the most literal way we can think of.

We eat when we don't want to because it NEVER registers as eating. It registers as stimming.
This is why preparing food used to take, what, six hours back in PA? Because it was never about food. It was, again, a matter of stimming. Of sensory soothing.

Remember that one night in SLC where we sat on the floor of our bedroom, rocking violently back and forth and flapping our hands so hard our wrists ached, blasting Serph at high volume on our headphones and stretching our legs against that rubber band until they, too, were sore from exertion? Pure stimming. Pure mindless stimming. THAT'S the key here.

We've lost all our old methods. We can no longer walk in circles in the living room, or the kitchen, or the driveway. We can no longer go hide downstairs by the furnace, or lock ourselves in the bathroom-- although the latter was always a horrific trauma trigger, as was the attic, even moreso (which is why we didn't even bother to list it here.)
We can't even self-abuse in the "traditional" way anymore. We don't have razors. We don't have knives. We don't have blades. (and oh, how our heart aches at those words-- no, those names, beloved and tender as a wound) We can't bite our arms anymore, can't slap our face, can't yank at our hair, can't claw at our skin or punch our legs or stomp our feet. All our old stimming methods, as violent as we need them, are gone, are forbidden. And our brain is boiling over.

It's been shutting down a lot lately and that terrifies us, to be honest. OV has it easy. He can stim with an adorable little squishy macaron or peach or donut, can play with fidget spinners or kaleidoscopes or even just a piece of jewelry. That's enough for him, it seems, and that makes us super happy. We love him, we love allof them, and the fact that they can use such mild methods to soothe their addled brain is deeply soothing to ours-- in a different sense. We would never inflict this aggressive need of ours on them, not for the world. And yet, here we are, needing it, and terrified because we can't explain it to him, terrified because he thinks we're doing it out of hatred, out of rage, out of suicidal ideation. It's exactly the opposite. When we don't do it, the stress and pressure gets so intense that we wantto die, and we stop caring whether or not we do. That is what's lethal. Not the stims.

The problem is, though, that the stims are dangerous in and of themselves. All of Cannon and Gamboge's old methods drew blood, marked bruises, left scars. All of them beautiful and beloved, true, but still risky to our health… and yet what we wouldn't give to be able to flay this flesh wide open again, even though I can feel Scalpel shaking his head at that thought even now. Why so?
"It's dangerous," he says. "You're right. Even though it is effective, and beautiful, it's also just as addictive. You know just as well as I do that once we start that, we can't stop. We want to bleed and scar forever. And that will kill us."
So will this "eating disorder." But I suppose that's the point of this whole entry.

Food is the simplest, easiest, most "socially acceptible" form of stimming and self-abuse that we have left at our disposal. It's all we have left on days like this.
Except, now, we can't, not without risk of condemnation and distrust, not without hurting someone else more than we ever could before or would ever want to. OV knows we have a problem, but he doesn't know why-- heck, even we didn't know that until this afternoon!
But it's why we go absolutely bonkers in the kitchen once he goes to work and MC goes to sleep. We racked our brains over that for weeks, for months even. We don't want to abuse ourselves, we don't want to suffer or humiliate ourselves anymore, so why this? Why can't we stop this? Why do all of the nousfoni tied to this have such shockingly, irresistibly powerful anchors? Why can't even Laurie stop them? Why does NO ONE, deep down, even want to? Why does it feel like we're being "betrayed" by the System itself in these nousfoni being given free reign and full power over our body and actions in the middle of the night?
We know why, now. It's because they're trying to save our life.
They're STIMMING. They're desperately attempting to soothe our hurting brain, to ease our aching heart, to comfort the poor screaming ones inside. The ONLY way we've EVER known how is to somehow "burn it off" outside. Even now, right now, although we're enjoying typing, our brain is too high-strung and our body is immediately defaulting to the urge of "eating." We aren't hungry. We never are. But that's the point. This isn't about physical hunger. This is about spiritual hunger-- psychological starvation. This is about us needing something we still can't seem to get and scrabbling at the scraps of it wherever we can find it.
Truthfully, we just want to isolate ourselves completely, close our eyes, rock back and forth like a lunatic punching bag and just let our brain turn off as completely as possible. But the key, again, is isolation-- that terribly dear thing we have NEVER been allowed to truly get, not since childhood, and which we have been aching for for longer than we can remember lately. There are no locked doors here. There's no cellar, no attic, no closet to sit in. God how we miss it now, how we miss being a child, ignored and alone in that dearly forsaken house, feeling like we were the only soul(s) existing in the entire world. Just us, and the quiet, and the sunlight, and our heart. We need that like the air we breathe, and we don't know how to get it anymore, because we never realized until we moved out here how we need love like the blood in our veins, pun entirely intended.
That's the killer. That's the real awful thing here.
God I want to cry. Our body is desperate right now, we want to just… scream and punch things and stomp the floor until our knees hurt and throw things and bite things and just let ALL the steam out. There's no malice in it, ever. But it scares people. It terrifies them. We're a monster, and we love what we are, but… we're still a monster. We're a scary, terrible, incomprehensible thing sometimes, and it hurts when our sharp edges cut even the people who try to love us regardless.

Our body wants to food-stim because that's the only thing it can think of to do right now, and yet it KNOWS that it doesn't want to. The very thought of "eating" is making Overload want to scream and throw the plate across the room, is making The Destroyer want to set the entire freaking refrigerator on fire. We HATE food; we hate it for being the only accessible way we were able to dissociate and heal for years, without being hacked.

Yeah. Isn't that the bloody cincher.
Hacks. Why the heck do you think they kept happening for so long?? Why the heck do you think people stopped fighting after so many hellish years??
It's because they hurt, they ate hours of our time, and they isolated us from the world. Yeah, they were absolute hell, that's the indisputable truth-- but the other awful truth is that we didn't want to live in the first place.
God. Those poor, poor damaged kids, sacrificing their souls and selves just because the world at large outside was somehow even scarier than blacking out for three hours and waking up in blood and excruciating pain and mental terror. At least then they could shut down. At least then they could hard-reset their memory, splinter a little more, break a little further, forget most of their entire life and pretend nothing was happening. They just wanted to run, God forgive them, they just wanted to hide and sleep and rest and the ONLY way they could was by shutting everything off. God forgive all of us.

Hacks don't happen anymore. They can't. Not since 2016. Not since Infinitii's presence truly registered, not since we realized what we were actually looking for and what was actually happening in contrast. The truth of it, the harsh horrific reality of the situation, was too terrifying to ever allow ever again. And so hacks stopped completely.
And the eating disorder exploded.

We knew that was going to happen, really. Stop one addiction, but leave the reason why it developed in the first place, and a new addiction will return or appear to replace it. The body is just hopelessly wrecked, man, it doesn't know what else to do.
Why do you think we started flirting with EVERYTHING that would detach us from the reality our poor brain couldn't cope with anymore? We started drinking. We started smoking. We started abusing prescription meds. We experimented with asphyxiation and anesthesia and everything we could think of that would detach us from the awful soul-crushing loop of that toxic household, of that dead-end environment, of the unending mental stress.
And somehow, some days, some nights, that still hasn't changed.
Like right now.

We have nothing. No paint, no sewing kit, no exercise bike, no weights, no internet, no Xbox. No isolation, which is the TRUE need behind ALL of those things. We can't do anything if we aren't COMPLETELY alone, and it feels like a kick in the face to the Broken Arrows, but God forgive us it's true.

We want to run. But we can't. Where the heck would we go? Everywhere out there, there are people watching us, there are social contexts "to obey" and our poor terror-hardwired brain keeps kowtowing to ALL of them. Even just now, when OV laughed or sighed or whatever that little dear breath was, we looked up, wondering-- are we needed? Was that a call for attention? What is the proper way to respond?
And then we wonder why people like Quicksilver exist, why that girl who fronts in the early morning exists. The nousfoni that will even flip off the people they love and say "shove off, leave me alone." The ones that seem coldhearted and callous and brutal, when really all they are trying to do is get us alone. They're trying to PROTECT us, bless their monstrous hearts, and we know it.
We're terrified of coming across as a horrible person, like we did to the kids in SLC. This is probably why. But we had no idea this was even happening back then-- we didn’t even know we were multiple, for God's sakes. Now, though, not only do we know, we understand, more and more each day.
So when OV sighs and someone immediately fronts with a middle finger and stony expression, they aren't saying they don't care. They're saying, "we can’t care right now because we are too burnt out TO do so without utterly sacrificing our health and your respect in the process."
So we sit here, miserable and overloaded, yearning for the opportunity to just… be alone.

God we both love and hate the nights when OV works. We love him, we love all of the Broken Arrows, but… it's just like when we started doing too much for church. We adore our faith, we adore its practices, but when you're expected to attend every daily mass, every weekly funeral, every weekend mass, every choir practice, every group meeting, every picnic, every bible study, et cetera… well, something in you starts to hate it, in utter paradoxical spite, in total impossible parallel to the love you still feel, solely because it KNOWS that if you don't stop you are going to burn to the ground.
So it stops it in the most complete, sudden, brutal, total way it knows how.
It scares the bloody wits out of anyone standing in its way.
People don't like monsters. People leave monsters alone.
So we learned to be a monster.

…God. What do we do.
We're thirsty. We want to cry. More than that, we want to scream and punch things, but that'll frighten OV, and we can't… we can't risk that. That's the horrible, horribly irony of this. We have to sacrifice our terrible needs for the sake of terrible love. What do we do?

People stay up all night because we need to be alone because that's the ONLY TIME we can brutally soothe our psyche. It's always violent love with us, did you notice? Always compassion and cruelty, or at least, what others would see as cruel. For us, it's just the rawest, most selflessly pure form of love. Love that doesn't deny you your needs just because they're strange or "socially unacceptable."

We want to run outside and go hide in that stupid McDonald's bathroom because it's the only place in town that feels like an airport-- totally insulated from the outside world, cold metal and echoing tile, quiet as a grave, no time existing in there at all. It always feels like 3 in the morning there, when you're by yourself. But that's the problem. It's a freaking bathroom in a fast food joint. It's not EVER going to be a failsafe place to be safe-- heck, the sheer simple fact that it's a bathroom has ALREADY condemned the poor thing beyond hope, thanks trauma. (God, there's that awful thought process again. Poor hurting kids. I wonder how many of them we've never seen, how many of them are still contributing to this in our sub(terranean)conscious.) But the one time we were in there, we felt-- God have mercy, what a dearly desired feeling-- like we were the only people on earth. Just us, just this body, just this tiny bubblespace of a bathroom, no time or space beyond. Just that single isolated moment. THAT'S what we need. YES, it's a literal NEED. It's why we risk our mental health going out literally EVERYWHERE when we walk in the mornings, exposing ourselves to too many soul-draining social contexts, desperately seeking a place where that won't be the case, desperately seeking some secret quiet corner somewhere that we can privately own, like the study nooks at Marywood, like the tiny pockets of woods.
…I wish there was a church with unlocked doors around here. God, we wish. We're nearly in tears just thinking of that. The ultimate met need. Isolation, but in a soaring wide-open emptiness. The feeling of our dreams. Rolling hills and labyrinthine halls and massive abandoned buildings and no one, NO one but us in them. Not even a gnat for outside company. Nothing. Just us, and the air, and the sun, and the clock ticking second after second, counting down to nothing, looping without an hour hand. That's what we want. Just… infinity. Eternity. God help us, no wonder hacks were a thing, I want to cry so hard we vomit out our entire respiratory system. This is wrenching and it makes so much sense. How did we never NOTICE this before???

…
What do we do.

Where do we go. It's 7pm, it's a Sunday night, we can't stand this social context right now, we KNOW OV is worried about us and that simple passive attention is keeping our brain in overloaded status and we want to weep because we care about them, too-- so much our heart aches from it, but what do we do? We love them, but… what do we do? We'll never stop loving them. We'll love them forever. But… sometimes, we dream of running away, of just sleeping in a field somewhere, of packing a knapsack and walking the railroad tracks for days, of catching a bus and just riding it until the end of the line and wherever we are, we are. We want no roots, and yet we want a home to go home to when the solitude starts to bite. There's nothing wrong with being alone. Just… souls need souls. God split hirself because ze needed to love more. We are made to connect with those other pieces, with every other bit of reality. And humans, sure we don't identify as one but this body is one, and we adore people, we do, we just… need to do this in moderation, I suppose.

Do we have a list? Do we even have options when this happens? When our spoons are so low the entire silverware drawer is missing, what the heck do we do, where do we go? When we're so weak we can't get undressed, is there anywhere we can be that will feel like the world has ceased to exist outside? I don't know.
Maybe we can empty out the bottom of the closet, sit in there.
No, no no no, I can feel the children shrieking at that idea even now.
Idola seems piqued. Maybe we should try. See what happens. I doubt hacks will happen--
They won't, but they'll be threatened--
In isolation hacks are always a threat because we black out,

What do we do.

It's too cold outside to go hide in the woods, or to even go find spots where we can hide. But Jewel is so excited at the thought. She has ideas.
Maybe we should try anyway? Get a blanket or sleeping bag or something, bundle up good, find somewhere in the woods where it's just us and just… keep that in our heart if nothing else, if we can't go there. Find at least one place in this new local world where we can be ironically cut off from it for a while, without risk of sudden jarring intrusion. Walking distance. Where can we go?
Buses.
Buses aren't cheap, kid, we need somewhere we can go on a dime without spending a dime, that's the problem.
I'm sure there's somewhere. Let's check Google Maps, find something out. I'm sure we can. Right? Are we done writing?
For now, maybe. I… the other topics we want to write about are huge. The hacks, for one, and the eating disorder in light of this.
But we have been writing about it. Both of them. Haven't we?
Not in as brutal excruciating detail and honesty as we need to, no.
Should we start, then?
Maybe. Hold on a minute.

Food stimming.
Back in PA, we had a soup pot, huge and solid metal, and every day, we'd start the morning by blacking out over a cutting board.
I don't know what we did. All I know is that the smell of wilted lettuce is one of the biggest triggers in the world, and we still can't put spices on our food without shivering in dread. Indian food makes us dissociate immediately, as do potato chips, and ice cream, especially Klondike bars… avocados are still terrifying, so are carrots, so is mayonnaise.
All of those foods were used for blatantly self-abusive purposes in the past and you know what? I'm going to say EXACTLY why.
There was a phase, in 2016, where all we ate for about a week was namkeen. Indian snack food. Just bags of (name). It made us horrifically sick but hey, snack food is an easy time-consuming stim, right? Even if it makes you vomit nonstop for hours-- even especially because it does! Because purging makes you even more dissociative, makes you able to sleep for hours because your body is so wrecked from the past several hours to even consider staying conscious for another second. The last day we bought Indian food, someone filled at least six entire cereal bins with the stuff, separating them methodically by ingredient, then going outside (thanks Destroyer) and flinging them all into the woods… and then hours later, even days later, someone else went outside in a scavenger-desperate mess and picked the pieces off the ground and ate them. We still cannot look at that memory without feeling instantly, unbearably sick. I assume it was all purged seconds after, but memory is black, punctuated only by tiny shattered snapshots of fingers wrestling bits of chickpea flour away from bugs and brambles and rain-muddled dirt.
Remember why P&R became the devil's household?? Remember how many actual HUNDREDS of dollars were spent there over several months, because the food there was dirt cheap AND typically already was garbage? Remember the granola bags with mouse holes chewed through them? Remember the instant noodles with mold growing inside? Remember the hummus that landed us in the hospital due to food poisoning? I know you do. We ALL do.
Oh, but THAT'S the most important thing, something we've probably mentioned in the past before but NEED to reiterate today-- the MAIN reason food was our main stim for YEARS was because, if no one is watching, you don't have to eat it.
We would buy starchy, heavy, crunchy foods, time-consuming foods, chips and cookies and cereals and granola and things, and we'd chew them up, ingredient by ingredient, piece by single piece, and we'd spit them out. Organize, chew, spit. Over and voer and over. And then, when the bag or box was done, we'd chew up the chewed stuff, over and over, until it was too saliva-riddled to chew anymore, and then we'd eat that and purge it immediately, too racked by family-instilled guilt at the thought of "wasting it" by throwing it away (no matter how moldy or rotten or inedible it was) to do so, even at the risk of our own health. That went on for years.
Then we couldn't isolate anymore, then we started losing too much weight, then our body forced us to start bingeing instead in a desperate gamble to get some calories out of it.
The worst chew-spit binges were in that one autumn that we re-read A Wrinkle In Time, with whoever decided that raw oatmeal mixed with molasses was the best texture for doing so-- probably because it took ages to mix up, causing our arms to scream with exertion from doing so, eliciting the same response from our jaws once it reached those. Pain, once sharps were forbidden. A horrific rerouting. And we did that for weeks, if not longer, until the passive sugar-exposure made us SO sick we ended up bedridden with a trashed immune system and too much nausea and chronic pain and hideous gastric distress to leave the bed. But to this day, anxiety-eaten nousfoni in this system, poor desperate kids, always look to the oatmeal boxes in the grocery stores even if the sight of them triggers immediate massive panic. Part of them also remembers a time when that food was the only way they could numb themselves to the world. So they hesitate. They're afraid, but they don't know what other options they even have. And every once in a while, we'll find a box stashed in a drawer or a closet, inevitably doomed to be in the garbage within hours, either thanks to the Destroyer or some poor purgative kid who just wanted to feel like they were throwing up the pain along with the carbs.

God. No wonder so many of our Daemons are tied to food. I wonder what Rupture knows, if anything. She's mainly the fear of dying in the process, of blood in our nose and throat, of our stomach screaming at us to stop. I don't know who holds this, this stimming nightmare… no one except Chocoloco, at least, and he only catches the frayed-end dregs of it, nothing serious, nothing traumatic. He's just that initial desperate programmed seeking of comfort in places where everyone who claimed they loved you claimed it would always be, and yet never was. Chocolate and coffee. Our family's "soothing staples," both of them doing nothing but putting us through hell since childhood. Still, desperate, we never gave up trying. Choco is pretty pissed as that, although nowhere near as much as he is heartbroken. His heart-host is angry almost all the time but it's for the same exact reason that any of us are angry right now-- because we're burning up inside, ripped apart and overwhelmed and sad, and we just want to hole ourselves up in the corner of a coffeeshop somewhere, in the evening when it's dark and softly raining outside and no one knows we're here and we have nowhere else to be, just us and this warm quiet soft place, and we can weep and cry and ache inside and this tiny childlike part of us remembers the days when a muffin and a latte made us feel real, made us feel like we could exist as ourselves apart from society and our family and anyone, like this little rite of passage was proof that we could survive alone, and were, in that moment. THAT'S what our hurt ones keep seeking, in that sort of archetypal memory, but Chocoloco knows it's ultimately heartbreakingly empty, that it's not food or drink or chocolate or coffee or caffeine or sugar or anything edible that we're seeking-- we're seeking his heart, we're seeking love, we're seeking the love that only we can give each other-- we're seeking ourselves.
We can't find each other if we're suffocating in the outside world.

So. Trigger foods.
Someone once wrote about this, too-- probably Iscah-- the science of "combined" and "fused" foods (she says yes, it's in her journal in detail). Well I won't steal her thunder, but the principle of it was this: if you want to make a food inedible but still ingestible, in other words, if you're trying to make a "stim food" instead of a meal, you need to make it as easily palatable as possible in the most blatant way possible. Which means, usually, you liquefy it. You blend things. You cut things into miniscule pieces. You take things like spices, and condiments, and sauces, and drinks, and you soak every stupid thing you have with them until your stomach heaves at the very sight of it, and when it's a slurry from hell you eat that as quickly as possible so your body rejects it just as quickly. Ideally, the whole prep process will take hours, as will the purging process afterwards, in a desperate blacked-out state, trying to get every last crumb out of our system. This is how we spent our days for years, inbetween church activities and family demands.
And isn't that the irony?
We were left alone. We were ignored. And yet, we were never isolated. The grandparents were ALWAYS there, always a few feet or a room away, watching, waiting, vigilant. If we disappeared from their radar for a few minutes, they freaked out. The only time we could "get away with it" was by being in the bathroom, behind a locked door, pretending we were taking a bath, when in reality we were slumped over a toilet wishing we were dead already, sobbing because we really just wanted to be alive already.
But we were never alone. We wanted to be alone, God knew. We wanted a place where nothing could touch us but ourselves.
That's how hacks happened.
I can't talk about that right now.

Potato chips. Cookies. Trail mix. Things like that. Our grandfather would hoard them in his closet, and when we weren't allowed to prepare or eat food in the kitchen anymore without being perpetually critiqued by our grandmother or psychologically terrorized by our brother, we would sneak into his room and sneak into the closet and gorge down a whole bag, not even wanting to, just desperate to stim away the constant fear and pain by crunching something sharp and salty until our mouth bled. But potatoes and flour don't purge easy. They stick like glue in your stomach, and they WILL make the next few hours feel like the central circle of hell. We know. We made that mistake one too many times. We thought we were dead, a few times. But somehow we survived. 85 pounds and throwing up junk food for 8.5 hours a night and we still somehow survived.
There was a time when we first discovered P&R and someone bought cheese curls and chips by the cartful, but they were bean-based, and when our body loudly let us know that it did NOT like beans, we threw them ALL out on the crudpile.
It rained that night. It was cold that night. The next morning, the food was somehow soggy but preserved by the temperature, and whoever the heck was fronting was starving and "couldn’t stand the thought of wasting that poor food" (why the pity on the FOOD being unloved and rejected?? why NEVER pity on ourself being the same???) and snuck out to that horrid garbage heap and ate them right off the dirt, brushing bits of soot and soil and ants off them in the process. Good God. How did we even survive.
They/we threw everything up in a panic shortly after. That was Tobiko's doing. She remembers that more clearly than anyone.
It wasn't the last time that happened. Someone grew fond of the process at one point, of the act of scavenging, of "finding food in the wild" and the time-consuming, stimming process of that fused with a broken sense of accomplishment and achievement. It never lasted long, but God knows they tried, over and over and over, until that last day with the Indian food. Thank God that hell is over forever.

The bloody Klondike bars and avocados. That was the WORST of it, shortly before UPMC. We realized that our body hated dairy, hated fat, hated chocolate, but we ALSO realized that the consistency of those foods was ideal for bingeing and purging, plus our body was seeking sweets out of childhood comfort desperation AND everyone we knew was INSISTING we "eat as much fat as possible."
So guess who binged on like eighteen entire avocados and ten packs of Klondike bars one night.
It was forced. It was forced so hard we thought we were possessed. We thought we were going to die. There's no memory of anything outside one hysterical moment when someone was shoving more chocolate into our mouth and thinking, why?? I don't want this, NOBODY wants this, I'm scared and sick and I just want to sleep, why can't I stop???
I don't know how that ended. All we know is that the family KNEW and they WATCHED IT HAPPEN and then afterwards they asked if we had "learned our lesson."
SHUT UP. YOU DON'T EVEN KNOW WHAT THE HECK WAS GOING ON, DON'T ASK IF WE "LEARNED OUR LESSON" BECAUSE THERE WASN'T EVEN A LESSON IN IT WE WERE JUST SO DESPERATE TO NOT BE IN PAIN ANYMORE YOU IGNORANT TROLLOP
Triple, watch your language. Be angry, but don't be so brusquely inconsiderate about it, please.
IT'S WHAT VOCAB WE HAVE FOR THIS KIND OF INTENSE PAIN. i'm sorry. i have no other words besides screaming.

Let's continue.

Coconut oil. the NIGHTMARE that is coconut oil. HOW much money was blown on that??
It was the best stim food and it was the SCARIEST one BY FAR, and that is SAYING something.
Our body does NOT like oil, and when you're literally buying PACKS of it because this kind FREEZES and becomes not only biteable and sharp, but chewy if you mix it with protein powder, and your poor malnourished body is craving both those things so it's a recipe for disaster already. We… I don't even remember. Literally NO ONE we can find even remembers, nothing beyond one snapshot of lying on the bathroom floor with that unmistakable special nauseating agony that comes from eating too much oil, literally begging God to not let them die, screaming in rage and determination that they'd NEVER do this again, someone (a Protector, Wreckage maybe, the Destroyer maybe, Laurie maybe) going outside in the 10pm dark and rain and throwing all of that garbage into the woods where it couldn't be salvaged (although we all knew someone would try).

…OV just came over and kissed us and someone actually wanted to give him a double flipoff in response. Not out of hatred, just out of "what the heck do you want us to do. We're tired and angry and can't do a SINGLE THING without your permission because we DON'T KNOW what we actually want and don't trust ourselves TO know right now. But we're overstimulated and overwhelmed and heartbroken and furiously distraught and you're kissing us like we're supposed to ignore all this agony and kiss you back. And God knows we WANT to. That's the problem. We WANT to, but then you'll call it self-sacrifice, and what the heck do we do??? We love you, we WANT to be with you, but our body wants something else and until we figure out what the heck it is, we CAN'T be with you because we won't be able to pay attention To you past this screaming discomfort and unsoothed pain. We don't know what the heck to do, and we hate that we have to snub and ignore you in the process of finding out simply because our brain cannot handle the stress of having to factor in another human being's presence and needs into our decisions and thoughts right now. We can't freaking multitask. Please don't force us to context shift so shockingly suddenly or we Will hit you, or bite you, like the monster and rabid dog we are at the moment. But we won't mean it, and we hope you know it, but we still can't take that risk of hurting you, so we completely shut down. We do nothing, we say nothing, we boil over like a kettle fit to explode, and we just want to get this problem figured out so we can safely let this scalding steam out so you can touch us without getting burned. That's all."

…

Do we eat? Do we drink?
This body has to use the bathroom. These clothes are too warm and soft and do you know what that's overstimulating? Because they make us WANT to sit and rest and relax and we CAN'T.
Iscah LOVES these clothes because that's ALL SHE DID. She rested, and relaxed, and took care of our body. When we wear these clothes, the body remembers that, and wants it just as badly. But in this context, no. No, here we're too afraid of ignoring people, of rejecting them, of the fact that OV just went and lay down on the freaking bed because he probably thinks we hate him when really WE JUST WANT TO DO THAT SAME BLOODY THING BUT WE WON'T BECAUSE WE LOVE YOU TOO MUCH TO LEAVE YOU.

what do we do. god. I don't know.

Is our body hungry?
It's thirsty. We haven't drank in over 3 hours and someone purged most of breakfast out of sheer dissociative panicked guilt, so that's even worse. Go use the bathroom, get a drink, then figure out what to do.
We can't eat without OV anyway, and he's hiding away from us. Did we hurt him?
…I don't know. I don't even know. I just hope he's okay. If he didn't, and he wanted to be alone, but was happy, would that be okay with you?
Of course it would be, but he's obviously not happy right now and that's the problem.
…Oh. Should we go talk to him, or…?
Maybe. I don't know. Maybe.
I think we should. Apologize for not being able to respond earlier, apologize for snubbing him on purpose because we were unable to respond in honesty to him.
All or nothing, huh.
Yeah. A curse and a blessing.
Are we done with this file for now, for the record?
Maybe? I think so. The big unanswered question is still: how do we eat food without turning it into a dissociatively abusive stim?
Eat it like we do in the mornings with him. Paying attention, letting everyone share it, not being stressed the heck out in the process. Stimming beforehand, even. Really, that's probably the smartest thing to do. Gotta find what works on short notice that won't hurt us or magnify negative emotions and do that.
Sounds good.
Body does need some self-care, though, so let's call it quits for now. Everyone good? Anyone got any last thing to say before we stop?
Just that Wegmans was a living hell, too, and we never want to go back there.
Then get over that place and every other place in our memory, kid. Forget them. Live here and now, and please, learn from that experience and stop thinking about it. Okay?
…Okay.
Just… let it go. Walk into memory and burn it to the ground if you have to. Whatever works. Just don't let it suck the joy out of our present life anymore. All right? We'll help you. We're safe now, all things considered. Just confused and hurting is all. But we're safe.
I know.
Then let's go talk to OV. He's the reason we can say that, after all.
We love him, even now. Does he know that?
That's what we're going to go make sure of, kid. Give me a minute.

Oh, wait!! One last vitally important thing.
The key to a successful stim is that it HAS to let our BRAIN shut down. Low-impact, low-speed, "mindless" activity so that we can DEEPLY relax, INSIDE. Books don't work, nor does TV, because they're too mentally stimulating. Food prep is too, actually-- that's why we keep hurting ourselves when we try! Same with the garage job. We try to dissociate with repetitive motion and forget that those motions have an end, both in result and process. That doesn't work for stimming!! However, THIS DOES. Weirdly, this typing REALLY helps, at least, in a different way-- it helps us untangle what hurts, and really See it. It doesn't alleviate the stress, just lets us know what we're looking at. What DOES help in a pinch is TUMBLR, on the phone, IF we do it safely. Yes, it Does work!! Because it's "mindless browsing" and you can link-hop FOREVER and find poetry and pretty pictures and just let our mind wander for HOURS if you have to. Spotify is almost this kind of stim but not really, because music demands Attention, but we can use that to a BETTER advantage because it draws us into our mind ENTIRELY. THAT'S an ideal stim, hence the old beloved walks in circles for hours, just imagining and thinking. My thing!! We've gotta find a way to do that again if we can. Maybe in the playroom, who knows. But we will. Anyway, yeah. When in doubt, grab Nelumbo, our beloved Samsung Galaxy S8 who we saved up for a year for and now had better use to show respect and gratitude for that!! Okay? We've got this. Now go tell the Arrows that we love them because they need us just as much as we need them even if they need space too!! Bye guys!!

-J.W.L. and the Lightraye aka Lotus Cathedral System ♥

Entry tags:

june 28 2015

hey, quick update, no one died today, but we're sick and in pain and not too happy with the decisions made today

but we need to forgive. we need to heal.
tomorrow we are going to make a BIG effort towards that as far as art goes, wish us luck
we do need to sleep first. the body desperately needs to heal.

also it rained today. a lot.
so despite our feeling like an utter filthy wreck that still felt absolving. which helped.
(also it is cold today not hot which is also a massive relief)

there has been a lot of heartwrenching beauty in our collective life lately that i havent written about here yet
i should but words dont do it much justice
and there is still so much confusion and pain-wracked fear tied to it
from these poor damaged ones.
we really need to just take a few days, a few weeks, just sit and talk to them,
why havent we done that yet,
i think maybe we're just as scared as they are of facing that stuff, on some level.
but we need to.

i wanted to delete the previous entry but someone wrote that for a reason, it absolutely breaks my heart to see it, but there it is

healing is still happening, bit by bit
biggest good thing about all this: we aren't numb or unplugged
so even if we're walking through hell again, we're at least doing so together

so that's enough to get us through another night.

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

@ 02:07 pm

(BRUTAL entry, explicitly triggering, totally uncensored.)

here's the thing,
HERE'S THE FCKING THING.

I am going to be brutally bloody honest even if I hate myself for it

I have experienced sexual things
I DO NOT LIKE IT.

and if you have not noticed
EVERY SINGLE TIME IT HAPPENS
I dissociate.
I blank out absolutely.
I have NO MEMORY OF ANY INSTANCE, AT ALL.

there have been orgasms but they are literally shit
no matter what they are absolutely stupid and dull
they hurt unbearably and make the body unbearably sick
and I am saying that as someone who has TRIED.
I HAVE REALLY FCKING TRIED to be "normal" and "holy" with this shit
IT HASN'T WORKED.
AND I AM TERRIFIED THAT MEANS THAT I AM BROKEN ON A SPIRITUAL LEVEL
AND THAT IF I AM NOT "FIXED" THEN I AM NOT TRULY COMPLETE OR CORRECT
it is horrible horrible horrible god I want to vomit just thinking about it

AND THAT'S WHERE THE FCKNIG CONFUSION COMES IN!!!!!!!!!!
because I KNOW what i want, I LOVE people, I want to EXPRESS that,
is that selfish? is that abusive?
but this goddamned society and religion tells me "NOPE YOU HAVE TO HAVE SEX IT'S MANDATORY IT'S GOD'S WILL!!!!!!!!!!!"
and so I get fcking terrified and attempt it.
honestly. I have attempted it. I have tried to be fixed.
but. every single fcking time. every. single. time.
it fails. IT FAILS. no matter how people try to justify it afterwards. IT DOESN'T WORK.

case in point.
I adore laurie. okay? for years people have been trying to 'have sex' with her. she always, always, always says no. "I can't feel that, I can't do that," etc. she DOESN’T WANT TO.
and that is accepted. that's FINE.
but then we realize "HEY, WE DON'T ACTUALLY WANT SEX EITHER,"
and then it's either dissolving into panicked scared sobs because god how did we almost fck up,
or,
dissociating into programming and thinking we HAVE to have sex because her refusal just lit up an ALTERNATIVE that we REALLY want, which is "love WITHOUT sex,"
but
BUT
we don’t believe that option is morally correct
WHICH IS BULLSHIT
but there it is.

no matter what, this stupid religious compulsion tells me that at some point I HAVE to "have sex"
WHY????
WHAT ABOUT THE CELIBATES
WHAT ABOUT RELIGIOUSLY DEVOTED PEOPLE WHO NEVER HAVE SEX
WHY THE FCK ARE THEY OKAY AND I'M NOT?????????????
WILL YOU SUDDENLY EXEMPT ME IF I START WEARING A ROMAN COLLAR OR WHAT

I don’t fcking know, I don’t KNOW
I am so fcking DEPRESSED over this shit

I DON’T WANT THIS. WE HAVE PROVEN THIS MULTIPLE TIMES, IN MULTIPLE CONTEXTS
I don't want it physically,
I don’t want it emotionally,
I don't want it logically,
I DON'T FCKING WANT IT SO WHY THE HELL AM I STILL TERRIFIED THAT I HAVE TO HAVE IT AND HAVE TO WANT IT EVEN WHEN I KNOW FULL WELL THAT I NEVER DID AND NEVER WILL

we really need to stop forcing ourselves into these roles out of fear or programming.
it's awful and it is perpetuating self-hate and self-abuse and depression and despair.

xenophon needs to be reset. I don’t think she was ever really reset.
she's too tied to trauma and the whole "parent" thing which only happened BECAUSE OF FORCING
we all admit we were confused as hell at that time
but xenophon needs to be freed from that, she doesn’t deserve this hell,
and quite frankly neither do any of the hosts who keep forcing themselves into trauma "for her sake"
that's not how this shit works
that's not what this is about

laurie has sworn that she will defend our asexuality to the death from now on
no exceptions, no being swayed by doubt, no religious paranoia
no. she MUST forbid EVERY ATTEMPT no matter how "holy" we insist it "has to be"
but you see??? it's COMPULSION.
it's FEAR-BASED COMPULSION.

I could only love someone who is a knife. that’s why I adore laurie. she is UNTOUCHABLE.
its why I have problems around chaos. I will admit that. I have A LOT OF TROUBLE being around him lately, like very very very badly, he's too feminine, too emotional.
infi gets there sometimes but then infi also has tons of teeth and sharp-shadow edges. ze's a daemon, ze can be soft as ever but there is always this danger, this knife edge, that makes me feel safe.
genesis is superbright and that counts as an edge sometimes, but it can go too far in the oppposite direction. but he was abused too, he dissociates and gets confused, we have to be careful.
I miss when chaos wasn't split, when perfect was still part of his psyche, back in the early outspacer days.
but I also DON’T miss that because perfect was psychologically blind and didn’t realize how harmful the stuff he did was.
I guess what I'm saying is that water doesn’t have edges and I wish to god that it did without turning to ice.
crystals. god he HAS that gem right in his heart, shouldn’t that be an edge enough?

I am so fckign sick of softness=violence
julie this is your territory
but you're the most damaged of all of us as far as this goes

you know what, you know what,
this fcking programming tells me "IT HAS TO BE THIS WAY,"
well how about this.
how about I test it out INSIDE and NOT DISSOCIATE?
then I will PROVE TO YOU that your way is BULLSHIT and it DOES NOT HAVE TO BE THAT WAY.

see, the SLIGHTEST attempt is met with REFUSAL, IMMEDIATELY

your shit is SHIT and it only works if you SHUT OFF OUR FCKING BRAIN
you fcking demons
leave us alone

sorry there are obviously multiple people writing this. all true thuogh.

OH! ABOUT THAT.
ALL YOU FCKING ABUSERS. ALL YOU HACKERS. ALL YOU SEXUAL-PROGRAMMING PEOPLE.
WHY DON’T YOU COME OUT AND TYPE HERE, HUH???????
DEFEND YOUR FCKING POSITION????

OH THAT’S RIGHT, YOU CAN'T
BECAUSE YOURE MADE OF PROGRAMMING AND OBLIGATORY BEHAVIOR
YOU'RE NOTHING BUT BLIND ROBOTIC IMITATION AND COMPULSION
YOU DON'T FCKING EXIST

that's where jay lives, right at the heart of this issue, right where we realize what we DO want and need
the topic we have discussed a thousand times.
love, real love, the kind that's utterly untouched by this sexual shit, he KNOWS what it is, and we have it,
we're just so damn scared that it's "inherently sexual" because it's intimate,
which is the biggest fear.
it's this horrible creeping paranoia that at some point, sex is GOING to happen BECAUSE we're close.
I am so fcking sick of that
I am so sick
that’s why I need edges, that’s why I need blood,
hackers CANNOT WORK when blood is around, blood is SACRED,
here's a message to all fronting people:
if there is a hacker around, if a hacker is trying to hurt you,
don’t even call for laurie, she gets distraught and they will try to hurt her,
call for a RETRIBUTOR.
even better, find a way to cause pain to the body in a way that is SHARP and SAFE
if there is blood, the hackers WILL LEAVE!!!!!!!!!!
and you will be safe
this is why relationships upstairs NEED PAIN
this is why heart connections are SO PAINFUL
because it is SAFE. and it is REAL. and it is GENUINE.
god we KNOW what we want and need and HAVE, why the hell do these outside people keep insisting otherwise

this shit is TERRIFYING.
HOW THE FCK COULD YOU EVER LIE TO YOURSELF ABOUT "WANTING THIS"
WHEN THE SLIGHTEST REMINDER SENDS YOU INTO A PANICKED BREAKDOWN?????
”I can't cry," you say, well then what the fck are you doing now????
YOU ARE IN TEARS FROM HOW FCKING FRIGHTENED YOU ARE RIGHT NOW KID
WHOEVER THE HELL TELLS YOU YOU "WANT THIS" IS A FCKING IMBECILE

stop looking at it. STOP LOOKING AT IT.
TO HELL WITH "EDUCATING YOURSELF" THIS IS ALL FEAR-BASED

you are just desperately trying to find support for YOU being okay.
you are looking through these articles and pages trying to find a chink in the armor, a break in the chain,
trying to find something that will make their entire argument collapse in on itself,
to justify YOUR existence and mean that YOU are not flawed or unholy in being what you are,
but you are so damn scared of being wrong in that,
you are so damn scared of being an 'evil heart' or a 'blasphemer' in so much as suggesting that it's okay to be asexual, to be what you are,
that you are not accepting any arguments in your favor, out of moral paranoia.
and yet you cannot accept any arguments to the contrary either, because you KNOW the fear and pain and disgust and shame and terror that accompanies them, whenever you try to force yourself into them, without fail.
you are running in circles, and your feet are bloodied on the rocks.
get out of their loop, it is only going to kill you.

I am very afraid that introjects in our System are still a real thing.
I don't even like saying they're part of the "System," because they're NOT. we need a better term.
but they exist. and they're awful and toxic.
BUT, it at least allows us to do internal healing work where it would be impossible to outside.
and it helps exaggerate just what terrifies us about those people, so we can evaluate that.
its just so so so sad to see an internal abusive reflection inside, of someone outside, who we experienced as abusive or otherwise traumatically triggering/ aggravating, but who may not have consciously realized that, or who may have been unable to accept that.

but we have introjects of the mother, the grandmother, and the two people from utah.
that is confirmed and I kept wondering why we kept getting sick, nauseous, why we kept getting confused with memories, why we had no idea what was real or not, we didn’t know these people, etc.,
its because the problematic behavior was being perpetuated inside, and we were too scared to face it.
well now we know. and we have to face it.
its terrifying still, but we have to face it
and I KNOW it can be healed. I KNOW that one day, the introjects WILL BE GONE.
but patience is key. we need to be patient. we need to forgive ourselves. this is fragile work. but we can do it.

would you believe we never really recovered from the static incident?
you know. we found something online. from people we knew. and we were in sick shock for WEEKS.
years actually, we're still reeling, still having trouble coping,
why?
"its their decision not yours"
yeah but they HID THAT and did SO MUCH behind our backs,
they never told us they KNEW we were unsafe with that,
but of course that’s WHY they never told you, they KNEW you would not be able to be around them once you knew.
and that’s so sad but that’s how it is.
god but I don’t want to hate people. I don’t want to hate anyone.
the hate just comes from fear. fear of violation, of forced infliction. fear of "THEY did that so now YOU have to!!!"
boundary problems. moral paranoia.
god I want to throw up and sob

I am so fcking sorry.
this is all so goddamn confusing

what am I even trying to say.

I just came across a quote.

"I dealt with a significant amount of abuse in my childhood as well and being aware has absolutely been the biggest part of getting past that for me. Being able to read studies in psychology that are relevant to my childhood, it takes a bit to be able to apply any of it to your life. It can be even harder to explore the possibility that many of your character traits come from your experiences with abuse, and difficult sorting out which parts of you are truly YOU and which parts are chemical/emotional responses your body makes FOR you."

that's really important. hormones are shit.
but they can be manipulated, they can be controlled. we just have to do more on our side of the fight.
but it's sad because when they're fcked up, your reactions get fcked up.

"Within minutes of exposure to a traumatic event there is an increase in the level of endorphins in the brain. During the time of the trauma, endorphin levels remain elevated and help numb the emotional and physical pain of the trauma. However, after the trauma is over, endorphin levels gradually decrease and this may lead to a period of endorphin withdrawal that can last from hours to days…"

see what I mean

god I am so nauseous I shouldn’t be typing about this or reading about this
why the hell do I keep reading about this

I'm ashamed. I'm fcking ashamed of the fact that I've endured so much shit, a lot of it by my own confused misinformed doing, because I am absolutely fcking paranoid of "not being good" and yet EVERY DAMN THING they tell me to do to "be good" feels self-destructive
the two main things are,
"don’t eat," and "have sex"
which is fcking horrible
I don’t eat a lot the way it is, now these damn voices are telling me FAST SOME MORE
and I end up purging and sick and dizzy and weak,
then the same fcking voices tell me "sex is the road to true enlightenment!!!!! you need sexual healing!!!!" etc etc etc and I want to STRANGLE SOMEONE because DAMN IT THAT ISN'T WHAT I FCKING NEED

but damn it I know what I need.
beneath all that surface-level shit I KNOW what I really need
and the bottom line is that I need to STOP LISTENING TO THIS OUTSIDE SHIT
BECAUSE I ALREADY FIGURED IT OUT
AND THEIR BABBLING IS JUST CONFUSING THE HELL OUT OF ME.

"know thyself" they say, and he said, and I know that's the main thing,
so I really have to stop thinking others know better than I do, as far as internal honesty is concerned.
there's so much out there trying to screw me up. I really need to be careful.

these entries too, are too tangled. I apologize. but they do help find truer things. they are signposts too.
and the frustration over misleading teachings is legitimate and I am thankful for that.
but pride, and this sort of too-white feeling, is just as lethal.
stop typing.

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

@11:02 PM

I'm sorry guys. This is Cannon. There's been another massive existential System shakeup and frankly I'm probably not going to update here for a long while, or at least until this is settled.

There's too much problematic stuff still entrenched in our function, that really needs to go. Problem is, a lot of it we've accepted as "normal" or we've even grown to love. It has to go. No exceptions. No mercy either. Which is probably why I'm back up front.

Laurie says I can't commit suicide, if for no other reason than for her sake. I said then what the heck do I do with this daily life. We don't know. We've gotta try though. I suppose it's all we can do. No giving up, no surrender.

I've been crying for the past hour, somewhere between choking and screaming. My legs are bleeding. I want to sleep forever.

Again, I'm sorry. I know this feels cruel but really we NEED to purge the ranks and fix what's been corrupted, in one way or another. That's why we keep having these System resets, apparently. People are sensing that something is rotten in Denmark so they're just razing the whole place, but then they're rebuilding it the same way. That's not going to work anymore.

I don't know what the hell to do. Not for the most part. This existential mess I'm talking about... well, it's religious. And it's sexual. And it's rather seriously freaking traumatic, at the moment. That should say enough.
I don't know how to cope, personally. Maybe we ALL need to die in order to "cope" with this, I don't even know anymore. I really have no idea what to do. But I just hope it's too soon. I'm going to give it a few days, at least. Hope to God, or whatever God really is, that this somehow ends in a way that won't annihilate us and turn us into our worst fear-- a fear which were now being told is inevitable, and desirable. So it sucks, it really does.

I'm tired. I'm very tired, and now I'm so damn shook up that I don't even want to die because now I don't know what the hell is waiting for me after that. I'm afraid it's hell forever now. And the worst part is that it can easily NOT be hell, if I just "stop resisting" and "learn to like it."
Basically, there's no place for asexuals in heaven.

I really hope that's not true. I really hope it's not true. But right now I actually want to just sob because life feels utterly devoid of hope right now, I've lost all direction in life, what the hell do I do, where the hell do I go, I have no idea.

Maybe I'll end up dead, who knows. Right now the System says I need to be the main person because I'm "protecting" us from this existential dread. I'm a fighter who won't give in to that. But... the fear is that we have to. The fear is that we cannot be what we desperately want to be, because it really is morally wrong, so to speak.
God I don't even know. I'm sorry.

Bottom line is, we're trying to restructure headspace from the bottom up. We have a lot of questions that need to be answered, and a lot of anger over things that have been allowed to continue over the years and should NOT have been allowed to continue.
Things will not, or at least SHOULD NEVER be the way they were before this entry. A lot NEEDS to change.
A few people aren't going to be coming back, no matter how difficult that may be. They can't. It's toxic. If they want to come back, they have to come back differently. Simple as that.

Good night. My neck hurts from the knives and I'm just exhausted.

Entry tags:

061015

I either need a huge-ass punching bag, or access to a local fight club.

There is so much pent-up despairing rage in me, it’s scary. It’s maddening. This is like when I was on antipsychotics at the hospital, I wanted to tear everyone’s throat out. Now I just want to punch things until my knuckles break and everything feels like fire, because nothing else is getting rid of this hellish sensory overload and I cannot take it.

I’m not allowed to express sadness or anger in this house, otherwise the family pulls their emotional manipulation/ guilt trip shit on me. The mother just did that now, I said I was depressed and she started ranting about “this is why I hate coming home! I just trigger everybody! You just see me as a trigger!!” and slammed the door in my face before going to argue with someone else about me behind my back.
This is every single day and I just want to fight something or have someone fight me and I can’t get that anymore, I miss being a kid because back then people would at least HIT me and I’d FEEL BETTER.

This is disgusting. I’m sorry.

I’m in a very scary place in my life, I’ve turned into a puppet for everyone else, I can’t remember who “I” am. I don’t want to be who I am currently, I’m terrified, how do I stop this?

There is so much seething hatred in me, this drive to just annihilate myself completely, this blind rabid desire to be immolated because maybe then I’ll become something good, something pure again.
I can’t look in mirrors anymore. I can’t. I can’t deal with this.

If I’m covered in bruises tomorrow it’s for the best.

Entry tags:

may 9 2015

I just realized that maybe calling ourself an "irredeemable slut" every time we screw up maybe isn't helping our mental state?

I know DNA can be reprogrammed and things all respond to vibrations and that's why words and music are important, so are intentions.
So, by that extension, feeling extreme loathing hatred and spitting the words like "harlot" "slut" "whore" etc. at our body while ripping it to shreds really isn't helping.

But it's hard. That's the ironic thing. You do one thing wrong, no matter how confused you were at the time, even if you didn't understand the situation, even if they lied to you… well, you screwed up, and you only got one chance. Now, you're ruined FOREVER, now you're branded as a slut by God himself, now that's all you'll ever be good for. You're impure for eternity now, you're a disgrace to God's creation, you're a filthy harlot and you deserve to die.
See what I mean?
This gets repeated, over and over, day after day, hour after hour, because part of us is CONVINCED IT'S TRUE and therefore we DON'T DESERVE ANY BETTER.
which is false
I hope.
but I cannot say that without cringing in total fear of damnation because, saying "I deserve better" is being proud and demanding and egotistical as the devil. "look at me! look at how great and holy and pure I am! I deserve SO much better!!" meanwhile I am covered in filth and my heart is black as pitch and I am a whore, a harlot, an irredeemable sinner
I don't deserve shit.
or do I
I don't know
maybe the "i" saying all this shit really is irredeemable but the rest of us aren't
that's the problem with d.i.d., the "main fronters" aren't always good, it all depends on the context of the environment. currently we are in a bad environment therefore the people who are out the most are not good people.
so yes. there are many, many other "I"s in the System who DO deserve better, who do NOT deserve any of this shit, who ARE pure and good and kind and wonderful people. none of them are whores. none of them are fornicators or adulterers or abusers or manipulators. BUT they are all inside which is "fake" according to the outside people, which also kind of quietly proves that those outside people are WRONG WRONG WRONG.
because if you say everything inside is "fake" and everything outside is not, then you are already completely wrong. then you are already saying that everything like thoughts and emotions and dreams and things aren't real. which these people believe. but they are wrong.
it makes us sick, that's what the job felt like, don't cry, it's okay, we're not there now

Meanwhile we're depressed as all hell and we aren't getting any work done.
We WANT to. We really do. But when you feel this filthy, you don't DARE touch anything pure or good, because you will corrupt it. Hence all the Leaguework being on temporary "hold" again. How did this happen?
We were working so hard on Parnassus the other week… I think I know now. Yes. DEFINITELY. Someone was "trying too hard" (which is STUPID) to make the story "acceptable by everyone else's standards" or whatever, which basically means "I can't use my imagination! I can't be creative and invent things! That's politically incorrect somehow! I MUST model EVERYTHING after OTHER people's things because THEY are right and I am not. Therefore I cannot be imaginative or creative anymore, I must just present their story again in different packaging or else I am WRONG."
THAT IS BULLSHIT AND YOU KNOW IT!!!!!!S TOP!!!!

so someone was researching ancient greece and their religion and stuff and it got REALLY DEPRESSING because not only is our tumblr dashboard flooded with hellenistic polytheists somehow, as well as other pagans, and that makes us REALLY uncomfortable because that makes us think THAT is the "one true religion" or whatever the hell therefore we should really unfollow those blogs… no offense to them but it's why we had to unfollow all the hindu and buddhist and catholic and muslim and mormon and kemetic blogs… we were getting so paranoid over "which one is right" that we were getting ill. therefore right now we're swamped with pagan stuff which, although it is interesting, is making us feel forced to copy it. and it doesn't feel right for us. which we feel is blasphemous, or that our heart is flawed and "not ready yet" but one day it WILL be otherwise we are "going to hell" which isn't even part of that religion. but the sentiment is the same. and it was in all the other religions too. you get the picture.
so researching that same religion for greece and feeling like we HAD to be utterly 100% accurate with presenting it although we didn't subscribe to it AND it had NOTHING TO DO WITH THE STORY… that was making us sick sick sick. very sick. plus, stumbling across articles for that research made us think "this is a sign! I HAVE to become a hellenistic polytheist now, the gods/goddesses are trying to get my attention and if I disobey they will punish me!!"
old shit, old shit.
that's why, quite frankly, we are trying to stay FAR FAR FAR AWAY from any belief system that believes in "gods" or other supernatural imposing forces. because they are power-holders. they order you around, they tell you "do this," "do that," "don't do this or I'll kill you," etc. the floating voices basically. and we are already so sick of having to light candles and kneel in front of statues and chant fervently for hours while harming ourselves for punishment and IT ALL FELT SO WRONG FOR US did that mean we were a sinner? does that mean we were bad
then it loops again. more blood, more praying, more blind obedience, more bullshit
except if we say that are we going to hell
good lord how young are you people saying these things, how in the WORLD did we not start healing this topic sooner, where the hell was it buried???

but yeah. parnassus. SHOULD NOT BE "MIRRORING" ANY DAMN MYTHOLOGY AT ALL
just because delphi was named that, the only reason WHY was because the "know thyself" phrase tied to Genesis was tied to the Delphic Oracle and so he got that name, BUT then it ended up being frighteningly, extensively symbolically relevant AND SO we got paranoid and perfectionistic, and started looking for "ways the REST of Greece's entire history applied to the story" and now we're losing sight of what the actual story IS. it's sick and it's sad.
this is why SO many of the leagueworlds are on hold.
EVERY time we do "research," it CORRUPTS EVERYTHING.

and it's ironic, it's so damn ironic
"mage angels" was allegedly paralleling the book of revelation, in the bible, right? and why was that? because of the "four horsemen" thing. which only applied halfway, and only because it was an apocalyptic storyline. but GUESS WHAT? maybe on purpose, but after "finding that out" we NEVER REREAD THAT BOOK. which was GREAT, because guess what? THE STORY KEPT GROWING. and it is growing fantastically well. EXCEPT NOW, all those sjws on tumblr are saying "CULTURAL APPROPRIATION" and making us copy EVEN MORE THINGS that aren't even relevant to the freaking plot, spending HOURS of research until we're tired and frustrated and depressed trying to understand the WHOLE WORLD so we can regurgitate it as a book that THEY will be happy with.
well guess what. i've had it with this. i'm done. hit me if that's insolent, go ahead. bloody me up. I'm going to risk being disobedient because right now I'm miserable and I CAN'T SEE THE STORY ANYMORE. you're putting a big damn cloud in front of it with all your demands and our stories were BETTER when we were a child and DIDN'T CARE ABOUT APPEASING YOU.
this is why so many of us hate audiences

speaking of audiences and how horrible that is.
yesterday was VERY VERY ROUGH and scary too. moreso than any day in a VERY LONG TIME.
we were trying to explain the religious terror to the grandmother and we forget what was said except for one line that was suddenly shouted
"you're wasting your talents! so you're wasting your life! THAT is a sin towards god!"
we were crushed by paralyzing terror, was that true, were we really squandering everything, we asked her "what do we do"
"play more piano!"
and then the rage came up.
we used to play piano, yeah. we used to enjoy it. but THEN everyone made it about PERFORMANCE. then it was about "I'm being graded/ judged for this. I have to do it EXACTLY as they say." the SAME DAMN THING THEY TOLD US WITH ART.
and the terrible thing is, we still WANT to play. we still WANT to make our grandmother happy by playing the songs she likes. but. but. the problem is that once we start playing the piano, people start standing around and watching over our shoulders. and maybe they aren't judging us. but we go into performance mode anyway.
for us, art is intensely private, this creative thing. we play with art. ideally we sit at the piano and just… talk to it. wonder over the keys. try some sheet music. make something. it's private. and you cannot do that with a goddamned audience.
so we ended up crying. someone did. they sat down at the piano and just sobbed through bloody angry teeth, they WANTED to be good, they WANTED to obey and perform for her, to be a good kid, to make her happy… but it felt so fake now. they would have to put on the fake twisted smile just in order to perform now. and we USED to be able to do that. ALL the time. that's how we got through the job. we used to be able to annihilate all our feelings, and just let jennifer come out, with her stupid paper smile, and do everything just like a good happy puppet should. but it's been so difficult to kill our emotions lately and that's scary, why can't we shut it off anymore, why can't we shut it down,

we're finding loopholes for the Leagueworlds to keep them safe from outside demands and projections.
any series that was originally on "a parallel earth" is now on its OWN planet however similar, it is NOT a copy of this one we're in physically. ideally. that could make things tougher but we're going to try it. it's ALREADY canon in mage angels, but I don't know about the other ones? we'll see.

I don't know what I was talking about.

audiences. you know that's where HALF the hackers come from.
so many of them ONLY exist because we introjected those messages, that crushing terrifying pressure to "perform," to "be" a certain way or else.
it's the worst thing about hackers. they're alters too. which means at some point the brain decided their existence was necessary, for good or evil. that's the catch. you end up in a toxic environment that demands you become toxic to survive, well a desperate dissociative traumatized brain isn't going to judge. it just doesn't want to die. so it will break, into something toxic. it's utter horrible bullshit but it happened. it happened and I want to die

we can't seem to stop spitting that horrible language
well "we" is used loosely
we can't "forgive ourselves" for the things we allowed to happen to us, or the things that the hackers alters did to us, or the things that we did out of desperate confusion and fear, "I'm just trying to do the right thing," our path to hell is plated in 24-karat gold but it's still leading to hell you brainless idiot
you can pretty this shit up all you want it's STILL GOING TO KILL YOU

we need to get off the internet. we really do. it's too late now, the damage is largely done, but we can at least STOP it from getting worse if we go away.
problem is it's a coping mechanism sometimes. the online thing. we didn't realize until we started checking archives, the only reason we probably survived high school is becausue whoever was fronting spent most of their time online. they really did. so they did not HAVE to face ANYTHING going on inside, at least not until 2008 or so, when everything shattered and they could not be willfully ignorant anymore.
which is out problem now. we're running because we're scared. but running makes things worse. fight suffering, and the fighting just adds to the suffering.
problem is we're still stuck in that dumb dichotomistic mindset that says "either you reject it, or you embrace it!" meaning that you can either not face the trauma and pretend nothing ever happened and smile like a happy kid, OR you can be totally happy with the fact that it happened and even promote it happening again. IT'S BULLSHIT WHY DON'T WE HAVE ANOTHER OPTION WE DON'T WANT THIS

the option we want: have the luxury of BEING afraid and scared and hurt SO IT DOESN'T HAPPEN AGAIN, but then SOMEHOW STOP BEING SCARED and annihilate the past so we NEVER FEEL IT AGAIN but how do you do that
sorry this entry is a mess I'm just going to close it up I don't even know what I'm saying anymore

Entry tags:

may 6 2015

(completely uncensored. it would lose all its honesty otherwise.)

I am so disgusted right now by both the world, and by myself

1. there is so much fcking horrid stuff going on out there, and
2. part of me hates people for doing those things.

I abused myself so much today already I am so sorry.
I keep detaching from this body, and then when it gets all mucked up and awful I'm still detached somewhat. numb. not even comprehending why I SHOULD care. it's sad

these is so much toxicity out there and it's getting into me and I'm scared of it

there's a seething hatred towards men that was never there before
not just men, masculinity in general
which includes me
which is making me hate myself for being transgender
which is making me hurt myself more
which is making me suicidal because I am now stuck between TWO "evils"
either look/feel like my rapists, or look/feel like their rapists
I fcking hate this world
I fcking hate this
"rapist" shouldn't even be a fcking word
no one should do that ever ever ever

but this poison is in my/our brain now and it's making me paranoid and I don't know what to do

it's terrible

I'm not a boy
I'm not a girl
I'm not a man
I'm not a woman

okay?
please
let me be

at this point I really wish I was noncorporeal, like a mist or something
it's unbearable
the hormones are helping with a lot, don't get me wrong, it's great
but THEN here comes this internalized anti-male-everything thought process
even if I'm NOT a guy, "god forbid" I take on ANY characteristics of one
it's making me very very unsure of myself

but I cannot, I cannot live in a female-bodied body
I can't
god help me but I can't, I tried, it was unbearable
still is for the most part.
but I can't, I can't,
please realize females aren't inherently faultless, flawless,
I'm not saying they're bad
I'm just saying that in my life 99% of the people who were abusive towards me were women
the men were harmless by comparison
please
I'm not a woman and I don't want to look/feel like THEM either
there are two sides to this coin

but I still feel like being demi-masculine is evil now.

this is bullshit where did this come from

a lot of it IS internally generated, I've noticed
yes tumblr is toxic as HELL and I want to LEAVE THAT WEBSITE FOREVER
the only reason I haven't is because I have friends on there
I will have to apologize because really, I do not feel safe on that website, at all
I do not like it there
I hope they wouldn't mind if I just quit because god I NEED to, I want to leave so badly
but I keep thinking "stay for the audience" "stay to help and inspire people"
fck this, is this going to be my life forever
self-sacrifice left and right? up and down?
flay yourself bloody because someone else might gain a tiny bit of insight from it?
that's been my life so far, absolutely, I'm sick of it
but that feels "blasphemous" to say
the oldest fear in my head is "you NEED to suffer or you will NEVER be holy enough."
basically,
"you don't deserve heaven unless you've PAID for it"
it's the fear that, just by being born, I inherited an overwhelming debt
and I need to spend my life "suffering" to make up for the intense "bad" I committed by being born, like ruining my mother's life, forcing my family to pay for food and medical care for me, being "abnormal" and therefore inconveniencing and upsetting everyone else, et cetera
whenever something nice happens to me, my instant thought is:
"how do I pay them back for this?" or, "how will I end up paying for this?"
no free lunch, basically
it didn't hit me until yesterday that I might already deserve some nice things?
like, if someone was kind to me, it was because I had already done something to pay that price
that just… blows my mind. I feel that nothing I've done, ever, is "good" let alone "good enough"
someone ELSE has to do good FOR me, and then the "good" I do is BECAUSE I am PAYING SOMEONE BACK.
that's the sad core of this really.
it's that childhood scared belief that I, as I am, am worthless and bad unless I am working in total servitude to another being, without any free will of my own
except that has done nothing but put me through hell so far
the family means well but god they are not always right, they are not always right
sometimes they are downright toxic and I am still struggling to accept that
and then there are these floating voices,
all the messages outside, online and in books,
everything else.
everything that speaks against what my heart is allegedly wanting or saying.
but no, "you can't listen to your own heart, it's corrupt! all the evils of man come from the heart! only god knows what is right. …and I am a mouthpiece for god, therefore you must listen to ME."
also insinuating that "god is not in my heart" which is literally the definition of hell and is THE most existentially terrifying thought ever, ever, ever
but that's the religious paranoia.
"god is out THERE, he is NOT in you, for you are flawed and an unworthy vessel. you must obey everything you are told, NEVER what you think on your own."
bullshit
I mean
please let it be bullshit
I mean
I will still obey, I won't fight or anything
but
if I question things please don’t be so mad at me?
I mean
I want to be able to question things without automatically getting crushed by fear and guilt
its terrible when I realize that,
every time, EVERY TIME, I think "well I'm not sure,"
I AM WRONG.
I AM PROVEN AWFULLY WRONG OVER AND OVER
and so I am taught, BY PROOF, that I REALLY AM INHERENTLY FLAWED
and cannot know what is right on my own

and so I spend 40 minutes staring at the same spot in a grocery aisle because I'm trying to figure out what floating voices to listen to and whether or not they're good or wise or even sensible, and then I second-guess myself over and over, and then by the time I get home I am so sick and guilty and tired and angry that I abuse myself and destroy whatever I bought because fck you, fck you I am tired of this, I am tired of being a puppet, I am tired

then they have the nerve to suggest that I'm "not psychotic"
do you have any fcking idea
listen I am trying desperately to put a name to this condition I'm in and that MATCHES
they've been putting us on antipsychotic pills for years anyway
but if that label fits, then hey, maybe NOW we can GET ACTUAL RELEVANT HELP
then again maybe it's just me
partly?
the stuff they label as "hallucinations" and "delusions" are TYPICAL in the body no matter what, ask any social fronter ever.
and hell they cause us a LOT of distress we just don't ever talk about them because we're paranoid or don't want people to know. if they know they could make it worse, after all.
but yeah maybe I'm the worst
maybe it's just because of the d.i.d. that they won't diagnose us with the other things we match symptoms for

but really I don't want to be fcking "mentally ill" I don't want a laundry list of diagnoses and pills to match
I want to be able to say, "here are the terms to describe what we are currently going through,"
but damn it THEY WILL NOT STOP ME
I AM NOT A VICTIM HERE
if a symptom pisses me off I will try to heal it, or at least we all will
but a lot of the "symptoms" for these things AREN'T "symptoms" in an illness sense?
a lot of the "symptoms" are part of WHO WE ARE
and that's the problem
you walk into an office and they're like "tell me what’s bothering you"
and typically the answer is,
"nothing we're totally fine"
because damn it lady we're not going to tell you about what else we see/feel in the room,
or about what happened in headspace last night,
or about this frustrating society shit we're dealing with,
or the suicidal thoughts or the depression or the panic or the paranoia,
we're not going to tell you ANYTHING about the religious mission because YOU'LL probably try to tell us it's "delusional" too.
and really don't forget about the ~apathy~ that you TAUGHT us to feel because
"you're not supposed to have problems!"
or, as they would say,
"oh, don't be like that!" "don't be so silly!" "grow up!" "man up!" "this is why I hate being in this house!" "it's all in your head!" "just don't pay attention to it and it'll go away!" ET CETERA.
in other words,
"you're not acting "normal" and that makes me uncomfortable so please force yourself to act "normal" thanks."
which is kind of sad, what is it about "abnormality" that frightens these people so much?
is it because they have things like this lurking beneath the surface that they don't want to accept or look at?
like some things, they can be so scary you don't want to acknowledge they exist. I know, that happens.
maybe that's why "abnormal" people scare "normal" people. because deep down I don't think anyone is ever really "normal" in that sense.
anyway

secretly we want to be the super-vanilla happy springtime white linen dresses pure happy kid
like the poster child for a healthy normal well-adjusted childhood
you know what I mean.
we WANT to be so utterly guileless, so totally flawless and innocent and untouched, and naïve even,
we WANT to be that pure and virginal. totally. absolutely.
but
people laugh at that?
people condemn that, actually
"it's so shallow"
"it's so fake and boring"
you know what I don't give a shit
or at least part of me doesn't
part of me doesn't care how "dull" it may be to you, we WANT to be that innocent again,
you don't appreciate what you had until it's gone

that's another thing that fcking sucks about adulthood and misogyny and shit
women are infantilized,
which is really fcking annoying and REALLY fcking disturbing,
women like that terrify us absolutely,
but also
children are sexualized.
read that again
children are sexualized.
do you see the problem
the double problem here
we identify more as a child than anything, when it comes down to it
there are a lot of kids in this system
and guess what,
they're the traumatized ones.
how fcked up is that.
how fcking fcked up is that
it breaks my heart

and now, now in our adulthood, now we're getting a taste of BOTH poisons because like I said,
you start presenting as a man and you get the backlash of this shit
of all the hurt ones screaming out in the primal way, the only way they know how to at first,
"destroy what destroyed me"
we know the feeling, it's what made us misogynistic in the first place
and we are so so so sorry
so maybe this is karma
but we're learning and we want to heal this in ourselves too.

so we're still hating ourselves for being transgender, isn't that awful

but that isn't even the worst part
remember we are still genderqueer as a whole
so although we're presenting as masculine
there is still accepted and embraced femininity in here
and this is bad because,
the same fcking society that says "kill all men"
is the same damn society that says "women are objects"
just different sides, same shit
oh yeah, and also
BOTH men and women are reduced to sexual caricatures
EVERYONE is expected to be sleeping with someone
even if you're not straight or cisgendered
I was never objectified as much as I was after I tried joining the "gay community"
or the "trans community" too
which is really fcking awful
all anyone did in either of those was talk about sex
like is that all we are? even in our own eyes?
we reduce ourselves to nothing but sexual behaviors?
so then the cishet people portray themselves as the "glorifed normal" in contrast to the "depraved queers"
please forgive my language
but yeah look at the bullshit the cishet people are putting out
all this goddamn porn and abusive relationships and FCKING SEXUALIZING CHILDREN
yeah the non-cishets aren't innocent either but damn it that's not the point right now.
the point is that this society built on the whole straight white cisgender male authority shit is UTTERLY FCKING TERRIBLE and IT NEEDS TO BE FCKING BURNT TO THE GROUND AT THIS POINT
thanks patriarchy you fcking suck

so.
we have got one hell of a task, living in this world
1. heal the misogyny
2. heal the misandry
3. heal the trauma
4. stand strong as ourself
5. don't hate anyone

#5 is so difficult lately and that's scary
is it the depression? I heard misanthropy can be a symptom and that surprised me
but
for us it's religious
damn it everything is religious with us, WHY
oh wait, I know why'
it's because we were raised this way and the environment didn't fcking begin to change until we were about 18, 19 years old
and to top it all off we're also dealing with "mental illness" on top of all that

but
the trauma made it worse
makes it worse
like
where do you draw the line

there are people out there screeching "freedom of speech" and "liberation" and shit
but so much of it is SO WRONG in our eyes at least
just
god what do we do
we are trying so hard to just "live and let live" but
I don't know

this awful hyperreligious mindset makes things so damn difficult
we are legit convinced we are something "chosen"
in whatever sense
but those damn demonic floating voices keep saying "you blasphemer, no you're not, you're shit, you're dirt, you're worthless, god would spit on you, you are worth NOTHING"
and then I think "well you wouldn't be fcking saying that if you weren't trying to STOP me now would you"
to which they start to threaten me and swear at me and all sorts of other scary things
then the fcking physical "hallucinations" happen.
which is "just great" as sarcasm would put it. sarcasm only happens because you're bitter about the truth but don't want to admit the truth because you feel ashamed or doubtful or self-loathing about it.
the truth is, it is NOT great, it is TERRIBLE,
BUT
virtually everyone we've ever admitted that to says "you're fcking crazy"
our grandmother literally told us "you're imagining it all, so don't worry"
here's the thing
imagination is some heavy-duty shit okay, it's terrifying
but imagination is self-generated. it means I CHOSE to think about this thing and pursue it on my own.
even the most terrifying imagined things I CAN turn off. i know. i've done it.
but
this isn't something i chose damn it
this is on the OUTSIDE
all those fcking floating voices are on the OUTSIDE and they are trying to get IN and I WON'T LET THEM
i really wish i could just turn it off, but
i can't
real shit, you can't turn off the real shit
good or bad
cover your ears all you want, they keep shouting
ignore them all you want, they just laugh
it is fcking horrible
the only thing that stops them is headspace
but that's a whole other problem.

people won't stop using the given name
god please that hurts so much too
is that selfish? demanding? childish?

the impulses are upsetting too, especially when laced with this apathy
it's daily now
I mean I can easily not act on them, I recognize them as impulses, but they are tied to powerful gut reactions and that's why they're scary.
violet impulses are common. I keep wanting to break things, throw things, bite things and shred them, attack people, hurt people. but I don't. I don't because I realize there is just this awful ACHE in me that wants to come out in screaming sobs because it's in DESPAIR but no one gives a shit. and I don't know how to cope and I WANT to cope. but that's where the violence comes from, it's boil-over
the suicidal impulses are tougher.
I keep having to put down knives, put down razors. (god help me that hurts my heart so bad)
I keep catching myself(?) with pill bottles. sometimes methodically just eating them like candy. but then mr. sandman or someone will shout at us to spit it out, and they are so LOUD that I(?) do. just dullness, no emotion. problem is then ten minutes later it'll happen again. over and over
that's making the eating disorder worse too. someone found out exactly what foods make us the sickest, and they are eating them. on purpose. to make us sick.
the WORST part? it's mainly "punishment" for "getting sick in the first place"
how's that for ableism
"what's that? you're lactose intolerant? you get sick from peanuts and sunflowers and coconut? you can't eat corn or gluten or meat without excruciating pain and meltdowns? you can't even eat fruit without being bedridden for the next two hours? well tough shit sweetheart! :) you HAVE to eat those foods to be a good, normal human being!! :) it's ok sweety just keep eating them a little each day and then you'll be okay again~"
and that hurts
that HURTS because we BELIEVE them these people are so NICE and yet
and yet
they're
not always right?
or are they, maybe they are, and we're just being fcking disobedient little shits
somehow
so we force ourself to eat these things because "we want to get better" BUT it's NOT WORKING
all this "exposure therapy" is NOT FCKING WORKING

it was the same thing with the sexuality, okay
god damn you, it didn't work, okay
okay????
I want to scream and sob, there's where the violent impulses are coming from, hello overwhelming urge to bloody my knuckles on this wall
god
it didn’t work okay
yeah, it sure as hell planted the seeds of misanthropic apathy. but that's about it.
you exposed us to SO MUCH SHIT that now,
NOW,
WE CAN ENDURE THAT SHIT AND NOT CARE.
THAT'S WHAT YOU WANTED RIGHT
THAT'S "NORMAL" AND "GOOD" RIGHT????
TO JUST "TAKE IT" OR WHATEVER THE FCK YOU WANT US TO DO

be a "good little christian girl" and get married
to some who-the-fck-is-this tall white brown-haired smiling stranger boy man
that the fcking media keeps shoving in our faces
they ALL LOOK THE SAME
but we have to "be good"
society says that sort of aesthetic criteria lineup is "cute" or "hot" or "attractive"
so register it as such damn you
and you had BETTER be attracted to them damn you
otherwise you are FLAWED and SOMETHING IS "WRONG WITH YOU"
go marry that stubble-faced smiling suited stranger like a good girl
and fck them until you have four or five babies
and then be a woman
and a wife
for the rest of your fcking life
now you are a housewife sex object with no autonomy
and this is the shit SO MANY WOMEN are going through it's SHIT

problem is,
we're not a woman,
but we're not a man either,
and either way,
we don't WANT to get married,
we don't WANT to have kids,
we DON'T WANT TO HAVE SEX,
we DON'T WANT ANY OF THAT

but they say "no you have to"

misogyny breeds misandry
there are both men and women with ugly, ugly personalities
I don't want to think of either gender as being defined by that
but
this culture is making it really hard to even comprehend the concept of binary gender OUTSIDE of that skewed disaster
like, you have to completely abandon the whole "cishet only" thing JUST to be able to see people as basic human beings at this point
which sounds kind of "special snowflakey" but really, look at our fcking culture
we have ingrained this disgusting false image of "what it means to be a man" and "what it means to be a woman" so much, so repeatedly, that I think we need to totally abandon that whole mindset first
it's not just about biology or reproduction, shit why is that the focus all the time
there's so much more to it than that, and THAT is what we need to start looking at, the NON-SEXUAL stuff, people are more than that, humans are more than their anatomy
I mean seriously look at religion, male/female is all about creation characteristics, reproduction is just one tiny bit on the whole list, why the hell don't we look at it THAT way,
I guess I'm just trying to say I want humanity to look as itself as transcendent more often,
stop defining male and female in terms of negative qualities and sexual behavior
why am I even talking about this I don't understand this topic at all
it's making me sick
I'm just sick of not being able to go anywhere without getting an eyeful of that construction
I'm so tired of the outside world
all the stuff out there, it hurts.

I have karissa following me. with her saw.
the fcking floating demons keep trying to touch me
god damn it I DON'T WANT THEM TOUCHING ME
so she's patrolling the room
she can ghost to do that which is important
a lot of the dangerous people are on the OUTSIDE
so laurie can't really attack them.
but karissa can.
I'll see if there are other people like her around

see, there,
that's it,
this,
as soon as I start talking about them this LIGHT goes on and a weight is lifted
my chest feels lighter and my head feels clearer
see, you doubters, this is REAL
this is real and it is GOOD

I don't want sex
how many times this week have I been saying that
goddamn full moon in scorpio I guess, that's what someone told me
scorpio's our lilith thing on the natal chart so hey.
biggest burden to bear for humanity. biggest lesson to transmute.
well we're willing to do it but damn it it's SCARY on days like this because,
we're asexual and nonbinary and aromantic and this is totally alien
and also trauma history.
but I guess that's part of it.
anyway the damn floating voices keep trying to touch me
and I don't want it
but they keep forcing it
but I DON'T WANT IT

I can stop them now. I can stop them now. it's liberating.
they try to get us in the mornings like they used to but I can STOP them now
chaos is pissed off at them and he won't let them anywhere near us
genesis is learning to differentiate but he's got massive trauma history too
so he and I are dealing with the same weird confusion.
when you've been "used" sexually for so long,
when you've been told so much that sex is "all you're good for,"
or worse,
"all you're meant for,"
then even if you don't want it and/or are terrified of it,
you keep getting trapped in those situations because your subconscious keeps hysterically saying,
"this is all we're worth, we don't have another choice, this is what we have to do for other people"
it hurts.
I don't want this.
no one wants this

but of course there's the other issues like,
we want to cry
we want to be able to FEEL pain
we want to be able to FIGHT BACK
we want to be able to CARE ABOUT OUR OWN HEALTH AND SAFETY
and stop thinking of all of that in black and white
like,
"well you don't crash your car on purpose, so you obviously DO care! therefore don't make any fcking excuses, you're not fighting back because you secretly WANT it (the abuse which they consider "normal")."
fck you
do you have any idea how often during driving we literally, literally,
close our eyes for extended periods because if we crash then hey fcking fantastic it's over
have to stop ourselves from just letting the car drift into traffic or off a non-guarded cliff
do you not fcking realize
apathy is more dangerous than rage
plague is more dangerous than tar
it's the slow suicide that will kill you sooner, ironically.
people see the pill bottles go down. people see the bloody weapons. people see the nooses, the rifles, the car engines on idle. people see you walking to the top stories of buildings, of bridges.
the fast suicides are seen and reacted to with anger, shame, accusation, et cetera. they will catch you and they will do everything they can to villainize you for it, and make sure you never ever attempt it again.
but.
but.
and here's the awful thing.
if you learn to do it slow, they won't care anymore.
no one will stop you.
sometimes they will even help you. or praise you.
they probably won't even believe you if you told them
they'd scoff or laugh it off or chide you like an insolent baby
but they won't do shit to stop it.
and that's the horrible, horrible loophole
that if you really do want to die, you can die a little each day
and then one day it'll catch up to you
they don't see it until it's too late and you're gone
they don't see the tiny scars adding up, they don't see the little poisons slipped into your food, they don't see the sleep deprivation, they don't see the forced psychological trauma, they don't see you wandering too close to the edges of things, they don't see how carelessly you drive, they don't see you taking one too many pills too often, they don't see you slowly fading away at the edges until

one day the grim reaper is gonna show up
but I've met him, I've met him,
and it's breaking my heart because he doesn’t like seeing people go out like this
and I've asked him to take me before but he said "no"
and I WANT to live,
damn it I WANT to live, so badly, god I want to LIVE

but.
but this is a tough world to live in and sometimes I doubt my ability to survive it safely

so I guess I do care about my well-being
in a larger sense
therefore
if this world is sabotaging my spirit sometimes I think it'd be the wiser option to just up and leave it

where did I even start with all this
this is one hell of a brainspill entry I am sorry this is a mess
I don't even know who I am, sorry therapist,
I'm old like I'm tied to fluorescent bathroom lights and old knives.
like 2008-2009 I guess
but anyway I'm old.

it fcking sucks to not even know your own name but that's typical on the outside
maybe on the inside I'd know who I am but translation is always weird
people always seem to "lose" some of themselves on the outside because
1. it's in a body and that's disorienting enough sometimes and
2. there are evil socials in this body that don't want us fronting and will sabotage us, and
3. floating goddamned voices
4. nobody outside believing I exist
5. not being able to be "my own person" and "in the body" at the same time

did you know, gaining a self-identity means you cannot be out in public
why the fck is that how this system works
the moment you gain a sense of integrity and individuality, guess what you're out of fronting
this is why we want to meditate ALL THE TIME
because we EXIST when we AREN'T OUTSIDE
but you can't meditate for 8-9 hours a day, can you?
not here at least
but we "can't join a monastery" or other thing like that, because we have "other things to do?"
then I realize they probably wouldn't even let us be a priest because we're not biologically male,
and we're
we're really not cut out to speak for a dogmatic religion.
we don't believe a lot of what our "birth church" believes and that's kind of sad because we love the church, we love the whole christianity thing, but we don't feel welcome there anymore? for the most part? because of what other people in it believe
closed-minded sad stuff
"gays and trannies are evil" is a big one
but try discussing mental illness in a church group
hoo boy
not gonna happen
immediately you're being possessed by satan or something
to which I wanna say
have you ever seen the painting, "the temptation of saint anthony"
like specifically the ones by michelangelo and salvador dali
because that is our fcking life
since we were a child
we will punch those fcking devils in the face
or at least I will.
but yeah bottom line is I'm not the first person to be trying to live the best for god who is being tormented here
and those damn demons keep screeching, "you're a blasphemer, you're a fcking heathen, your pride will damn you to hell," etc.
that's the scary part
the pride
is that the right word for this?

I didn't understand the religious concept of "pride" until lately
and it scares me because it's not really pride in the way we think of it
it's not a "look at me, I'm so great!" thing
it's not in-your-face at all
it's very very subtle.
it's
seeing things going on outside, frightening things, confusing things,
things that I feel are WRONG, that are NOT GOOD THINGS,
and instead of just "live and let live," instead of just "letting them walk their own path,"
something in me says
"yeah but there's a fine line between tolerance and immoral allowance, isn't there?"
like if someone was hurting children do you just shrug and say "it's their own path"
fck no you STOP THEM
you CALL THEM OUT and you EDUCATE PEOPLE NOT TO DO THAT
right?
so that's the problem, does that make it pride if I'm so self-doubting I don't fcking know
if I SHOULD just be "tolerant" or if I should be speaking out
this
this is why I keep tiptoeing around that one word that doesn't even fit
but it does in the "dream world" context. we need a different word.
dream world "prophets" are defined by a heart-deep, maddening, undeniable need to act upon and for the veneration of their Virtue, for a purpose, for a cause
it's not always "good" though, for lack of a better term
like sometimes god decides you need some fire and brimstone
at least that's what I was taught as a child
and it's what I've read in so, so many religious texts
that 'god,' or 'goddess,' or several of each,
is both a creator and destroyer
both giving life and taking life
divinity is sublime and it does what it needs to do
the old testament says that all the time

but it's like in mage angels
with monika
maybe it's human weakness or something I don’t know
maybe it's real divine compassion I don’t know
but
if I was ever given that job
if I had to play the judging god,
even if it was a "good" judgment,
something like a white blood cell,
I couldn't do it.
I really don't think I could do it.

but you know what I don't know if "god" can either
not in the way we keep thinking of it
maybe the whole "fire and brimstone" thing really isn't how it goes
remember that one story in the bible, I forget where,
I think it's moses,
genesis 18. sodom.
“If I find fifty righteous people in the city of Sodom, I will spare the whole place for their sake.”
exodus 32 has some of it too, with the golden calf
"Then the Lord relented and did not bring on his people the disaster he had threatened."
but I'm getting off topic and confused here

the point is I really, really do love humanity
and just like monika
(sorry this is actually a major spoiler)
even if they are being total shitheads
and fcking up everything
and basically just acting in the worst ways a human could act
I couldn't kill them
I couldn't rain hellfire down on their cities
I couldn't destroy them
because I love them
even then
maybe especially then
and I'm just pissed the hell off BECAUSE I love them and because they don't HAVE to be like that
they CAN be brighter, they CAN heal, they CAN change and act wisely and with better judgment,
people ARE good at heart,
I know that and nothing will ever change my mind,

so when I see stuff out there in the world that just feels wrong wrong wrong in my heart,
and people are writing it off as "totally fine" or even "progressive," or "politically correct" or whatever,
I stop and think "that can't be right"
and part of me gets scared and confused that maybe I'm being PROUD or BIGOTED or UNWISE in questioning them,
but another part of me gets furious and angry and livid and wants to fcking cut these people down verbally for suggesting that shit was okay, (that's my main part sadly)
but then the deepest part of me really just wants to know what's REALLY right here.
because we love these people,
and I say "we" with that speaking for the system, like jay wrote before.
written in this heart of ours, written in gold way down is that truth, we really do just love people.

all of us do and damn it it's our greatest weakness and our greatest strength
even me, damn it, even me
that's why we have such trouble
the retributors get it the worst, hence this topic
even the ones like wreckage, they care so much
they are only furious and violent BECAUSE they care so much
and it's why we keep getting lost because no one wants to stoop down to that level
of the ones we're fighting
we don't want to be killers or abusers, we don't even want to be violent anymore
but god comes with a sword and all that
but we don't know what to do
"be soft. don't let the world make you hard. don't let the pain make you hate. don't let the bitterness steal your sweetness. take pride that even if the rest of the world may disagree, you still believe it to be a beautiful place."
and that's forever our mantra and I wrote the whole thing because it's important and it's the most fcking heartbreaking thing we could ever say.
be soft, be soft, be soft, but take no shit,
and don't let them bury their knives and claws in you,
be soft but don't bite back, don't draw blood,
or should we?
I don't know
don't hate, don't be bitter, don't harden up.
but what about, what about,
what about all these people on tumblr who are like "it's free speech to make fun of someone else's religion" and the other side is saying "if you insult my religion I have every right to lash out against you because that's totally irreverent" and the response is "don't force your beliefs on me I am under no obligation to revere what you revere" but then I'm like what the hell, it's called BASIC HUMAN DECENCY, I don't give a shit if you don't share their beliefs, DON'T FCKING INSULT THEM ANYWAY, and on the same page, if you have a religion with beliefs that other people don't agree with, RESPECT THAT TOO, JUST STOP FCKING FIGHTING WITH EACH OTHER
maybe "free speech" does cover the "right to make fun of anyone ever" but damn it that doesn't make it the "right" thing to do, just because you CAN do it doesn’t mean you SHOULD.
respect, god why the hell don't we just RESPECT each other, like GENUINE RESPECT, not begrudging tolerance or acceptance or whatever, think about it, if respect was at the roots of BOTH sides of this party, there wouldn't BE any fcking problem because both sides would have taken a good look at their stances and thought "hm, is this mutually beneficial?" and if it's NOT then you FCKING DROP IT.
but that's the problem
that's the problem with pride, whether it's religious or not
you need to LISTEN to the other side and genuinely CONSIDER their viewpoint okay

like back to this misogyny thing
most of that, in my childhood, came from people who GENUINELY BELIEVED that what they were saying was 100% "the right thing to do." religious or not.
"respect me," I say, and their response is usually… "I can't respect something that's WRONG." or, something that's "disrespectful" to THEM. and that's where it gets confusing and I hate thinking about this
let me just
think of a solid example.
um on that same topic,
"please respect my asexuality and wish to remain unmarried." when I was younger, I would ask. the top negative response? "I can't respect something that goes against God's will." because they are CONVINCED that being an allosexual in the bounds of marriage was THE "right thing to do."
you get that a lot more with "queer" stuff
people not giving homo/bi/pan/etc.sexuals and transgender/nonbinary people rights, because "it's not right to BE that way in the first place." so they say "I respect you as a person, therefore I am NOT going to allow you to do something that is disrespectful to GOD." see how it gets tangled
man this whole paragraph is tangled I am so sorry
but in religions you get the whole thing of women being treated in a way that often gives them less autonomy and rights than men, and the response is "well that's GOD'S WILL" so they won't even THINK about how the women feel who are not okay with being treated that way, you see what I mean
but I'm upset about this "free speech" thing
"why should I respect your religion if it teaches THAT?"
still I don't think that's reason to be disrespectful. you can disagree, sure, but for heaven's sakes be civil.
but that sentence. "why should I respect ____ if it teaches/ implies/ supports/ etc. THAT?"
with "that" being something you personally view as totally unacceptable.
and those religions, that's why I wonder, and it hurts my head to do so,
when they talk about "well it's god's will, not mine,"
sometimes it's about things that are really intolerant in a disrespectful way,
but they are so convinced that those things do not DESERVE respect,
being convinced those things are utterly morally wrong,
how do you know?
how do you know
this keeps me up at night

it's kept us up at night since we were kids really

ugh
bottom line is
where does it turn from saying
"what you're doing is morally detrimental and I am speaking out against it"
into being told
"you are violating my rights of free speech and autonomy"
basically,
when does it turn from speaking up for morality, into being obtrusive and intolerant?

that's the problem with being a double libra I guess
I see EVERY freaking side of EVERY ISSUE
and it gets really bloody confusing because I can empathize with EVERYONE
sometimes directly, thanks d.i.d.
(no, literally, thanks)
but then I'm not sure what's… the OPTIMAL thing to do?
I don't know
I want to say "the RIGHT thing" because of this religious bit but, who am I to act like I have all the answers?
it's just
trusting my heart
and not feeling my heart knows best
because I'm afraid of what I've allowed to infect it
like eightfold said,
"I gotta be careful trusting my gut, 'cause my gut is a vast phantasmal library full of dark tomes!… The heart's the same way. It gets dirty. Things you pick up, things you're taught… they stick to it. An' there's no flutter or feelin' that isn't filtered through all that stuff."
that is one of the most important things we have ever, ever read
and it is so true
and it is our biggest fear.

that whole thing
with not knowing when to stand up for what we feel is right or not,
getting confused because our beliefs aren't always "politically correct,"
getting scared because people say our beliefs are "delusional" or "totally detached from reality,"
you know,
"grow up, and get used to the REAL world,"
when the "real world" they say is mean and cruel and bitter and stuff,
that's not the real world.
but
geez I shouldn't be looking at political sjw stuff on tumblr anymore
it hurts and it makes me so so so confused
and then of course you come across the people who are like
"kill all men," "down with cis," "truscum," "if you are ____ you don't deserve to live,"
and then the other side, online and offline,
spitting racism and homophobia and religious mockery and all that,
the exact things that cause the hateful speech of the victimized side.

I fcking HATE the whole victim/oppressor bullshit already. I hate it.
but that's ironic too
hatred and rage will only turn me into an attacker. and I don't want that.
gotta reroute that frustration. realize WHY I'm feeling it.
and that is:
I don't want to see anyone being victimized, or doing any oppression.
I love you people and damn it you've gotta stop treating each other like shit already.

at this point I don't care what justification you're giving
disrespect is disrespect
hatred is hatred
violence is violence, no matter how "passive-aggressive" or "harmlessly" you may act upon it
and those things only breed more of the same.

I have no idea what in the world this entry is about already

there have been like… three different authors in here. and of course the paragraph switching. people starting writing one thing then stopping and then I go back and see all these unfinished sentences and I'm like "dude I have no idea what you were talking about, I can't finish that for you"

this started because… today we're cripplingly depressed
and not sure where to go in life
and scared about this moral doubt
and the floating voices
and feeling forced to do things we don't want to do
and not knowing if our heart is wise or just delusional and foolish

I want to help people.
I want to heal myself
I don't want to be a bad influence on anybody
but I don't want to hurt anyone through my inaction either
am I trying too hard?

it's such a frustrating dilemma
"act or don't act"
when acting is viewed as intrusive and pushy and proud and rude and oppressive
and not acting is viewed as wishy-washy and apathetic and morally weak and lazy.
damned if you do, damned if you don't.

I don't want to think about this anymore. focusing on this is just making life REALLY tough
you get what you give, and we're radiating too much anxiety, it's not cool

I think I'm just going to let jewel or spinzor out and let them type

we have to go to philadelphia on friday and we don't know how we're going to get there and our stomach is just bottoming out with anxiety over it, the quiet kind that only registers in creeping sickness and nausea and sleep disturbances and a rough temper. it's not cool
I'm just going to take a deep breath,
we'll do what we can,
if the father can't drive us down, we'll try to go by ourself,
we're a little scared of asking the grandparents because what if they find out we're transgender,
we'll be out on the street,
they almost found out once and that was scary,
geez no actually cannon remembers that it was MORE than once and it's why we're afraid now,
STOP FOCUSING ON THE NEGATIVE
be smart, but be safe, okay?
do what you can.

that's all we can do for now I guess.

good night everyone.
I hope this entry didn't upset you, or hurt you, or make you sad or anything
geez that is a big fear too we're afraid of posting stuff like this
but honesty is key. that's just it, it happened, up it goes
and you never know. maybe that woman really was right. "the message in the mess." maybe this stuff helps other people somehow, I hope so.
I mean we write it all with the intention to "solve" something, or better-- to heal something. "solving" is too analytical and that's dangerous. healing. we know there are problems and we are trying to untangle them and we are sharing the process, because maybe it'll give someone else insight they didn’t have, on how to untangle their own things.

I hope so.
for now I need to rest, today was rough, we have color stuff to do on the computer, if done right that should calm us down. just nice cataloguing work.

closing up this entry as-is things are too fuzzy good night

Entry tags:

041315

I'm kind of freaking out tonight.

I might be starting my first job in FOUR YEARS next week, and I spent most of today having panic attacks and throwing up and sobbing confusedly, it was ridiculous.

I had a massive religious/existential meltdown on Sunday which left me just as sick as I was today; I was crying so hard I was choking. That's typical, what with religious holidays. Divine Mercy Sunday reduces me to a contrite, paranoid, zealous wreck every single year.

I still find myself thinking awful things.
Part of me is still convinced that having a mental illness, or being "neurodivergent" in some way, means I am morally flawed.
I'm ashamed to admit that I've been diagnosed in the past with schizoaffective disorder and that I'm on the autism spectrum. I hate it. I hate being "broken" and screwed up and abnormal and allegedly "unable" to function like a "normal, healthy, good human being."
It's stupid. I'm sorry for using that word but I'm throwing it at myself here. I really do feel as if I am unintelligent in saying these things, unwise and willfully ignorant.
I don't want to be "mentally ill." Not if it makes life this hellish. But I don't want to be "normal" either, not with what they've told me "normal" is.
I want to be able to accept and love who I am without being utterly ashamed, and feeling useless, and being convinced I have no right to survive, or ask for help or accommodations, or to make mistakes, or to be "different."
No wonder my chakra system is messed up. I'm still struggling with the concept that I have a RIGHT to exist. That very thought feels like blasphemy, to this day.
"Someone like you does not deserve to exist," the programming in my brain says. "You're a freak. You're being selfish, and demanding, and inconvenient, and offensive, and lazy. You're not sacrificing enough for God. " et cetera.

Therapy has been making me pay more attention to myself when in "idle mode," so to speak.
I never realized, I stim a lot. I was always ashamed to even consider the possibility, thinking it was attention-seeking, but… it's not. It's a coping mechanism. When therapy gets frightening, when ugly scary memories come up, I find the vision fading out and my hands moving by themselves. And then my brain says, "is that bad?"

I HAVE to hold this new job for AT LEAST a full month so I can pay back all my debts. After that we'll see how we're coping. I need to take this a day at a time.

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

@ 11:33 pm

Please forgive this bitter wordspill but I need to express this somewhere where I’ll be heard. I’m sorry for that but sometimes it helps.

I hate, hate, hate being mentally ill.
I feel like such a freak, like I don’t deserve to exist, or live at all, because I’m a “burden” or I’m “lazy” or “too weird” or something similar.
I hate asking for help or accommodations or similar assistance because I’m mortified. I feel that I’ve “brought this illness upon myself” and therefore it is “emotional manipulation of others” when I ask for “special treatment” for it.
I DON’T WANT TO BE SICK but I don’t know what it’s like to be “normal” either, I don’t think I CAN be normal even if we WERE healthy, and that’s scary too. Does that mean I’m being willfully ignorant? Does that mean I’m rejecting the right choice? What am I supposed to be?

I hate having these damn sensitivities that make it difficult to function.
I hate the manic phases and depressive hells. I hate the massive dissociation and time loss. I HATE the sensory overload, I HATE hearing voices, I HATE this shit, I hate it, I really do, I am so goddamn tired dealing with this all my life, I’m miserable, I try so hard to be happy but the paranoid zealot child in me is convinced that happiness is selfish and sinful, and the bewildered terrified teenager in me is convinced that happiness is the word abusers use to justify their behavior. I want to say it’s all nonsense, but those parts are still so loud yet.
I hate hearing my therapist tell us that we really did experience some screwed up things, and I hate the gut reaction on my part to defend the people who did those things, even when their memory makes me want to vomit from anxiety and shame.
I hate being sick. I hate being in pain. I hate not being able to shut off the sickness or pain because I feel that not being “invincible” means I’m “not a good enough person.” It terrifies me.

I want to be happy for once in my life but the problem is that I feel I don’t DESERVE to be happy, or that the quality/state of life that would be most healthy and beneficial for me is “too weird” or “NOT NORMAL” or otherwise “not allowed,” because I’m SICK IN THE HEAD, and this religious stuff makes it worse, I haven’t found a community anywhere that is willing to help us out with this, all we want is to feel like we’re allowed to live.

I don’t want to hate anything.

I don’t want to hate anything. This isn’t me, I’m a happy kid, I know I am, I’m too damn bright on the inside to handle so much of this.
But parts of us are so bitter and sad and angry because there’s so much guilt yet, so much shame, so much fear, so much regret.
Then the therapist has to keep reminding us that we have a dissociative disorder so of COURSE we never “ran away,” because we SHUT DOWN. We were trying to survive, however unwisely. The price we paid was just too high, too high, too high to bear.

I want to be better. What does it mean to me, to us, to be “better” though? Not what the family says, not what the people outside say. For us, what would be “healthy?”

That’s what I want. Somehow. I still want that. I’m trying.

I’m just very overwhelmed today and I’m kind of scared about some equally overwhelming changes in the immediate future but we’ll manage. We’ll manage.

Entry tags:

feb 10 2015

Therapy on Thursday.

I didn't update as it happened (people wanted to ignore it)

numb fronter as we walked in, couldnt get them out at first
spice fronted for a WHILE, very angry
sherlock fronted momentarily
so did garrison
isadora tried but talking socially isnt her thing
jewel peeked in? left shortly
"jessica" writer girl fronted for a WHILE (NOT the brown "jess," no ties to chocoloco?)
clearly said "other people don't like when I get violent"
she hates the mother, that's her main thing. color feels vaguely indigo, like the one from 2008 or so
wreckage tried to come in, I think ashen was alerted
david did too I think

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

@ 11:55 pm

Sometimes I think it's really dumb that I have to write down everything "bad" that happens so I can tell the therapist. I don't want to hold on to this stuff. But, I keep remembering that one phrase: "those who forget the past are doomed to repeat it." I can't help but feel that, stupid and ridiculous or not, that quote applies here. It's awful.

Sunday morning, I think, there was a dream hack. It was horrible. The pain in-dream was so excruciating that the body collapsed, and I remember almost passing out. I had fallen to the floor, in agony and delirious, and I was half-crazily praying to God to save me somehow. I thought I was dying.
Miraculously, that pain did NOT translate over to the physical body when we awoke. Thank God for that, really!! If it had translated I probably would have really died.

I know why it happened. Sleeping is painful lately, what with surgery recovery, and if we lie flat down it hurts even more. So, we have to carefully prop up the body in a way that won't make our limbs go numb, and will still allow us to breathe, without straining the abdomen so badly we can't get back out of bed easily afterwards (which will happen if we fall down flat). Anyway, since it is tricky, we usually wake up several times during the night hurting. We haven't been sleeping well in any case. There have been lots of nightmares.
Anyway. Sunday, we woke up around 6AM, only having about 5 hours of sleep so far. So we made the mistake of going back to sleep as the sun was rising.
Here's a note: sleeping during sunlight equals HACKS!!! I don't know why, but it's a constant. The "danger zone" happens whenever you try to sleep when it's light out. It's Plague stuff I think. Bad stuff. So we kind of feared it would happen, but what else could we do?

I'm standing here and the legs are covered in blood and I'm fine, but whoever was out before me definitely was not.
There's a problem lately: no emotions, but expression of emotions. Like, "I feel like I should be upset about this, or that it would be right to feel upset about this, but there's no actual feeling!" Like after hacks. You KNOW you're "upset," "sad," "angry," et cetera, but there's no actual emotion. It's an empty void, a blank space. There's nothing. There's just this "knowledge" that, even if you don't actually feel it, you know you aren't happy about this situation. And then someone fronts, and starts to try and scream or cry or something, but there are no emotions, and the second they stop it's poker face city. It's highly confusing and rather upsetting, to know that there should be an emotion there but there isn't.
Even worse, we still have those not-so-floating voices (alters?? the therapist is making us question a lot of things we took for granted or glossed over) who are full of hatred for anyone who shows "weakness or stupidity." There was a problem today; someone was eating as a "coping mechanism"-- the need to organize, to fix something, to clean something, to destroy something. It's all projected coping needs that we can't find a way to meet elsewhere, so it comes out unhealthily. But it was 5:05, and then the grandmother walks in, stops, smiles sadly/flatly at us, and says "You didn't make it."
Now she likely meant well. She knows we like to stop eating at 5PM every day, but sometimes we don't eat "breakfast" until 4PM so that makes things tricky, since we have to prepare the food that day too. So she meant, "it's after 5 already." But it hurt! What a way to say it! Why would you say it such a way?
Immediately the brain heard those words through the hurt. "You're still eating, you wretched thing?" "You failed." "There's a strict set of rules you must meet to be "good," and guess what? You didn't make it." In short, what we heard was, " You failed to do what was good and right, again. I'm disappointed in you, but I didn't expect anything different. You're a disgrace and a shame."
All I know is that this person's "appetite" bottomed out and immediately they wanted to burn every edible item in the kitchen. They fought off the urge to forcibly vomit out of shame right then and there, and walked out to sit on the porch in the cold, feeling utterly filthy and animalistic, like they no longer deserved to show their hedonistic face among human beings.
A few minutes later the grandmother stomps out onto the porch, sighing angrily, half-shouting. "What are you doing now? Stop being so ridiculous. Get back in here."
We tried to explain how we felt, to apologize for being such a humiliation, but she cut us off. "Oh, I don't want to hear this again! You've gotta stop that." Then as we went to walk in the door, she (unknowingly?) shut the door right in our face. There was a moment of shock-- dulled by the fact that we hadn't felt any emotions this whole time-- and then someone went and slumped against the chimney and tried to cry. Unfortunately, the feelings of self-horror and hatred were so potent, that one of those "floating alters" spoke up. "Shut the hell up, you faggot bastard!!!" That's the one that hates crying, and calls anyone who dares to cry because they're "sad" the most awful name they can imagine. They see crying as selfish, manipulative, and downright disgusting. In their eyes, people who cry are doing the emotional equivalent of grabbing someone forcibly by the face and dragging them in the direction you want them to go. It's profane emotional abuse, crying is, to them. So we aren't allowed to cry because it's "evil."
So that shut down, easily enough, because nothing was actually being felt… convincing us that we were "evil" and manipulative, because who else would cry without actually feeling sad? The only thing we felt was this ugly, corrosive, dirty feeling of wrongness, like we were trash, utter garbage, and did not deserve to be conscious.
We ended up back inside the house somewhere around there but the memory cuts out for about two, three hours around that time.
There's too much memory loss lately. It's scary. It's unbearable.

…I lit some candles for optimism, but the black one ended up overflowing like a volcano and spitting sludge all into the pink one, only. That's awful symbolism and it's scaring me a little.

There was a real hack, Sunday night I think. The same day of the dream hack as far as I know. It was in the living room, someone went into a trance from the red lights and that is all I know. We found the culprit, because they tried to attack Chaos and he freaked out, then it went after Genesis, but Infi showed up and neutralized it, so there's no hack data other than the initial "someone bad is here" shock of the culprit fronting and Wreckage realizing it. Yeah, she noticed and tried to kill it, I don't know how it kept going… lots of the hackers can. I think it's because they're on the "downstairs" level, that's not tied to the System at all. It's all Socials and faceless people and floaters. It's a very dangerous, very frightening, very primal level. J---bel and J----ca's kingdom. There's so much malice in those two names, it hurts. I don't want to write them.
So we think that person was "Eros." NOT the guy we've been calling by the name Upstairs, at least we don't think so. This is the guy from 2012, the REALLY EVIL one that caused the whole Celebi trouble in January. Yeah. The EVIL guy. We think it's him, because it feels very similar to what records we have of him, and it's not a good feeling. So we're being very careful.

The real problem is that he's not the only one!!! There's at least two girls, too. One is Anna, I don't remember/know what her deal is but she exists, we're well aware of her. Long straight blonde hair and all. BUT there's another girl-- at least we think it's a girl? maybe there are two-- which is one we've been hunting for AGES, and it's the one who hijacked Jay's heart affinity and turned it into the most dangerous horrific thing ever. She's not a good person, at all, not at all, her energy is unmistakable too and they've left EVIDENCE before, on our computer, that they exist. It's always scary to find evidence, we're not used to people fronting without permission or knowledge, especially bad people.

Oh! Before I forget. The therapist wants to know who writes. I'm a "girl," more like I have a female look and I'm a teenager. But gender is "ehh." I don't think about it much. Anyway I'm a girl and I'm young and I'm happy? I'm not sad, at least. I'm more like, unfazed. So that's it.

Back to typing so I don't slip, that happens a lot with self-awareness because the darker minds in the System don't want these new voices manifesting. (Sherlock here, momentarily. Give me a minute to hand the reins back, quietly.)

So. Bad hacker girl. We don't know who she is but she was apparently around tonight. No hack data again, just the instant of realizing "oh no oh no, someone was here," and then a time gap, and then standing in the bathroom with a huge bread knife in one hand and hysterically sobbing "there's not enough blood!!" Whoever that was. I don't know. But that person realized the "no emotions" problem because although they were wracked with tears and pain, there was-- again-- no emotion being felt, which shook them up.
They were staring at a washcloth full of blood and saying it looked like a murder scene. Then they wondered if we should go to the hospital, because "this wasn't normal," they had lost so much time and they didn't know what day it was and this was no way to live, it was unbearable.
Then there's a somewhat different memory? An instant of someone leaning against the doorframe and laughing deliriously, staring at the wrists and saying "I could end this right now!" It was the sudden realization that we had a really sharp knife and we were really hopelessly distraught and it would be SO quick to just… end it all. Instantly. But something made them change their mind, because that person disappeared and then there's another time gap… yada yada yada. It keeps happening like that and it's not fun.

Anyway. They "couldn't reach God" and every time they tried to ask "do you love me" "do you forgive me" etc., the damned floating voices would jump in and lie and say "no," over and over, making the fronter feel trapped in hell and unsaveable.
Then Infi showed up. All I know is that Infinitii showed up and said "I love you," making it very clear that they weren't ignorant of the situation even so. I don't know what happened after that, I can't see it, just that ze and the fronter (did Jay come in? no? somebody else.) were talking for a little bit and now I'm here? Typing? Geez. It's 9:25 PM. The last time we remember looking at a clock it was 8:25 or so, in the kitchen, putting the knife back in the sink. Geez. And getting matches for the candles.
Someone was standing on a chair to do that (the matches are on top of the fridge) and saying (with no small amount of disgust and shame) that they felt "lonely," that they "never had any friends" because to them, a REAL friend was someone that you didn't HAVE to talk to when you were upset like this. A REAL friend would understand, and just sit with you if you just needed company, to be assured someone else kind was there for protection and compassion, who wouldn't want to chat emptily or do small talk. Which is stupid, and which is what all almost-"friends" would force us to do in the past. Real close friends talk about real close things. And we never had that, but we needed We never got close to anyone really, they never wanted to be close and it hurt. We only ever had… let me count. AMG, AAA, CL, SD maybe, BP, BD almost, Angelbee, and that's it. Seven people who were near-friends, and of all those, only ONE of them (CL) EVER treated us like one. CL treated us like a sibling, there's precious little memory of that time period of life and the only real snapshot we have is of walking across the playground with her, and she was just so happy to be with us that this surge of real honest love welled up in us, like the love you'd have for a dear friend or sister, and it was one of the first real things we ever felt. CL left us for good a few months later, but… that was real, and honest. It's worth noting that this was approximately the same life-time period that Jezebel evidenced during, so the forces were already in opposition. Ugh. Anyway, yeah. Seven people, two of them who were only "cool acquaintances," three of them who were borderline abusive, and one of them (AAA) who was never really an "official" friend (i.e. she would talk to us often but we never hung out or did stuff together) but who we adored nevertheless, as you know. So yeah, we were lonely. Are lonely, I guess, if this evening's admittance by who-knows-who was honest enough.
We did have internet friends, I guess? I forgot. They've fallen into the "lost years," the ones scrubbed dry by programming or trauma or whatever. We don't remember them at all; whoever befriended them is LONG gone and did not leave any first-person memories that we can find. But that's not relevant now, and that stuff physically hurts to look for.
Where was I. Oh yeah. After that hack, and bleeding all over the bathroom (we got really dizzy, not sure if it was from blood or stress or whatever, but it was a little worrisome), and losing even more time, and wanting to throw up, and feeling utterly isolated, yeah we were kind of lonely. We were unplugged from headspace too, and to be honest I don't know if that helped or hindered the situation? There is a LOT of hate for headspace on the downstairs level, with the socials and other faceless fronters, because to them "headspace" is synonymous with "the world and people that only exist because of hacking." In other words, "headspace is a living reminder of hell, and as far as we are concerned, its very presence promotes more suffering and pain." So the socials HATE headspace, and will deny/ slander/ curse/ try to annihilate it at every opportunity. Sadly, because of that split, there's no way to get help from headspace (someone just shouted "we don't want it!!"). Well, there you go. Don't shoot the messenger, guys, I'm just typing. ("For who?") For anyone, I'm just keeping records of this so we can actually deal with this trouble with the therapist maybe, and keep it from ever happening again.

I hope. We wish. This has been going on for 7 years, plus-- no, longer than that, almost 10 now. We aren't sure. When did the hacks really start? So much time is gone, but so many of us are so young, we can't tell.
We keep forgetting about "childhood trauma" too. We laugh at it, actually. It feels like all fairy tales, like some scary story made up to make other children behave. We don't remember having a childhood. Our memory doesn't "start" until 8th grade, really. 2003, going into 2004, that's when headspace put down its first "roots," even though Jewel manifested years prior, and others (Julie, Jezebel, etc.) even earlier. Still, all of that feels foggy and vague, almost like a prologue, or something slightly off-kilter. "Solid" memory, the "beginning," is in the 8th grade classroom. 2003, let's say. And then time disappears for several years, and the next thing we have a "solid" memory of is 2011 or so. Is it? Did Cannon leave any solid memories? No?
It's weird. Cannon and Glissando both were at MU, that awesome university, but although their memories are very clear, it's nevertheless fogged-up by the third-person viewpoint. It feels… vague. Like we were asleep from 2004 to 2008, and began waking up slowly. There's little data until closer to 2009, I think? And then it's gone AGAIN, because whoever was on dA for the "OCT period" (the short-haired kid here) is TOTALLY missing from all our records, we have NO clue who they were. Then 2010 was Utah, which was only know from data because there's NO actual data of that…

You know what, let me do that. It's 10PM, we're going to bed at 11 today because 1) although I would LOVE to stay up and type, it is NOT safe to sleep during the daylight!!! so 11PM is now the set bedtime, and 2) we're going to accompany the grandmother tomorrow morning at 8 to do family shopping and go to her bloodwork place. Any time we get to go in a car is gold. Cars are BEAUTIFUL. They are blessed spaces on wheels. Every car ever is a safe place, a sanctuary, and we love them. We can talk to them too, a little, like Kit in Young Wizards. Serafina (the PT) talks to us the most; she does not like when people hit potholes and she doesn't like when people say she's "not as good" as Bethany (the Suzuki). So she's kind of moody. But we're nice to her, we really do love her, and she's warming up to us more. Bethany we don't get to talk to often (we don't get to drive her much) but I'm curious, and kind of scared, to try. She's been in several accidents and there has been at LEAST one massively horrifying hack while IN her, poor thing. We haven't even listened to that file yet.

…Okay, I just had to leave the computer for a second and NOW all the terrible sadness and hopelessness is settling in. How do we deal with that? Just meditate all the time?
To be honest, that's why we haven't been meditating. It's… when we do, we don't want to stop. We'd unplug from reality and meditate for like six hours a day if we could. Is that detrimental? Is it "good" to totally dissociate from the physical realm that often, that totally? "Be in the world, but not of it," they say, but for God's sake we don't know HOW to be "in it" at this point, most Buddhas weren't "mentally ill" as far as we know, and it hurts like a crushed heart to hear people say "well mental illness isn't real” because sure, we know that all this suffering is ephemeral, but then…
I don't know. What about the PTSD, then? What about the D.I.D.? Are they saying that "oh, your PTSD isn't real" even if someone was raped, or caught in an explosion, or something equally horrid? It's hard to find the fine line. On one hand, there's awareness that this life is temporary, and all the horrors we may endure here are equally so… and on the other hand, there's the awareness that this life is still valid, right? It's still real in some way, right? And… is it wrong to be scared, when something scary happens to you?
I don't know. This drives me mad, especially because it's the REASON why we aren't feeling emotions anymore!! SO many people have said "your emotions are just knee-jerk reactions to stimuli that don't really exist!" and glorified "detachment" and "emptiness" that we have scraped out our soul and now we don't know HOW to live in this world because we just want to meditate all day. We're in pain and we can't even feel it because these people keep saying it's not real.
Bullshit. BULLSHIT. "You have to accept suffering before you can transcend it." That means stop kicking this under the rug and let us HEAL for God's sake, we're scared and we're frightened and we're sad and lonely and confused and angry and you just keep doing that stupid "SMILE (☺)" reaction and acting like we're just poor fools!!! Well maybe we are, but that puts us right in with every other beaten and kicked child in the world. Would you just "SMILE" at a five-year-old whose mother just whacked them in the face out of pure malice, and who was crying bitterly as a result? "Don't cry child, she's not really your mother! The pain isn't really real! (Smile!)" FCK YOU.
I am so sorry. FCK YOU.

That too. That freaking mother. "WRITE A BOOK!!! WRITE A BOOK!!! HERE HERE'S ANOTHER PUBLISHING COMPANY TO CONTACT!! HERE'S ANOTHER WRITERS GROUP TO ATTEND!!! BLA BLA BLA!!!!!!!!"
Fck off, FCK OFF, STOP.
Everyone wants me/us/whatever to "write a book." WHAT BOOK!??!?
What the hell do you want us to write????? What are you expecting????
There's our personal chronicles, these Archives, sure we could TRY to write a book out of them, we'd LOVE to actually, but that's NOT EASY, ESPECIALLY when every two seconds you're telling me IT'S FAKE, IT'S BULLSHIT, GET OVER IT, STOP ACTING LIKE THAT, STOP SAYING THAT, ET CETERA.
I wouldn’t BE saying things if I wasn't FEELING them. I'm trying to be HONEST. Would you rather I lie??
I don't know. I don't know. I WANT to write this in a book and put it out there but it HURTS, damn it it HURTS and it's terrifying to look back and see that there's NOTHING for YEARS, God help us how can we write anything if there's so much empty space and unanswered questions??? I don't know. I don't know.
And then there's Dream World, Jewel's magnum opus or however you'd call it. She's terrified because so many people have ripped that story right out of her heart and tried to mangle it into their own liking. It's been so horribly corrupted, she can't see half the characters anymore, she can't find the timeline after 2003 right now, right where ours stops. She cries about it a lot, how all she wants to do is share that story, her love and joy, our hope, and yet it's been so battered. She's scared, that she might not be able to get it right in time, or the right way, or something. But we all feel her fear, more of a wrenchingly awful bottomless mourning, and it makes our situation all the more depressing.

Ugh. This entry is going places I don't want it to go. Where was I. Cars.
Not going to talk about that hack file. It's an hour long and I know Wreckage talked on it and so did the veil-person (the purple one) and Julie maybe? I don't know, I don't want to think about it, there's a potent jagged aura around that entire event that is horrifying to look at, sorry to keep using that word but it's the only one with a "vibe" that fits the feeling I'm trying to express. Horror is different from terror, and fright, and fear. You get the picture, I hope.
Cars. We're going in one tomorrow. I'll type again when I get home, maybe.
I wanted to list memory bits, for the sake of having that data written down somewhere, and also for the therapist. Oh, plus she has us doing this thing, let's start a new paragraph for that, I mentioned it earlier.

It's supposed to snow tomorrow. Okay, so the therapist asked us, "who does what in your System?" But she meant on the outside. And we DON'T KNOW. It was very jarring, kind of existentially nauseating, scary, to realize that we don't know who does half this stuff, and the more questions she asked the more shaken-up we got until we almost felt like crying from shock but nothing happened. We're losing so much time and we NEVER REALIZED IT until she started asking things we never would have considered asking ourselves.
"Who eats" is tricky enough, Emmett should be the one eating but that's been very rare over the past few months. We don't know who eats lately, but so many people are tied to pain and purging and maintenance that it's a little easier to get a grip on that.
But then she asked, "who cooks? Who cleans? Who does finances? Who goes to the doctor? " etc. We have absolutely no idea. And as we looked, hoping to find answers, we found that there was no data. We don't know who cooks or cleans or does finances or goes to the doc because for the most part, there's NO MEMORY OF THOSE THINGS. There's some vague "location" data, of course, the eyes are always seeing… but as for actual conscious stuff? Movement, talking, choices? None. There's nothing. And THAT'S scary.
She asked who exercised. We mentioned that weird faceless beige-tan guy who showed up last summer on the elliptical, and who keeps flickering in and out. But we also mentioned that exercise is dangerous, TERRIBLY dangerous, and the reason why we were out of shape for years is that originally we couldn't exercise without getting hacked. Which was bad. Running outside is safe but we can't do that until our surgery heals.
"Who writes, who does art, who does music," she asked. Another worrisome question. Creativity was always very separate from our System in order to protect it, because if hacks/ etc. ever touched the Leagueworld stuff, we'd die. Quite literally. Everything would go to hell. So no one in our System did art, except Jewel, who broke off from us during the lost years. Razor tried but couldn't tap in. We have some musicians, notably Glissando, but Nienna and Zwei like to sing and Einsatz likes to listen. Problem is, for unknown reasons music is also tied to mania, so we are actually terrified to play the piano anymore because then that one girl comes out and goes nuts, and her energy signature is like a circuit breaker shorting out, blowing up. She's dangerous and we do not like her. She's part of why we stopped singing for over a year once the dysphoria got bad. It would trigger her and then things would-- again-- go to hell. And hacks would happen in her wake too! So that wasn't good either. Writing, though, that's our field now… sadly, for some part, as Jewel lives to write and she hasn't in a very long time. We used to have a poet, we don't know where they went. We lost a lot of our writers, actually. Those of us who write in the Archives… we''re a different breed. This is just talking onto paper. I'm one, Simeon is listed, one girl who "hates the mother" and goes by "Jess" because she can't find another name. She spoke here for a bit before, her energy sticks. Jay types, Laurie has typed before, not often but she has. Sherlock types. Mulberry did once, I can see the text in my mind. But yeah. That was an easier question to answer.
"Who does self-care," the therapist asked. No one. Cannon put a stop to it in 2009 or so, with the dysphoria and hacks and atonement, and since then it's been very bad, minimal really. Bathrooms in general are hack-places and we don't like spending longer in one than we have to.
"Who went to school," was the last question. Cannon, that we know. She took the one art class, that unannounced decided to make her do figure drawing. And all hell broke loose. AGAIN. It's ridiculous how often that has happened. Where is it coming from?? Why??
But we don't know who else was at the first college, other than Glissando, who was only there to sit at her laptop and write music. Spinny got in the way there sometimes, but she was manic and negative and not really a "person." We don't know who went to the second college. We don't know who went to high school or elementary school. Blame the social interaction, I guess, or at least the threat of it. Thank God we were ignored for the most part!

I can't type anymore. Apparently my attitude is detrimental? Or at least not nice, or fitting. It's "rude" without meaning to be rude is what I'm getting. Sorry guys. I'm out of here.

We'll write the memory data down tomorrow, when we have appropriate time. Now is too late.
I cannot tell you much else for tonight; there is a pervading sadness and helpless frustration that is being exacerbated by the heat in this room and the company here. I do not want to mire in this mindset so I am going to attempt to unplug the mind for as long as possible to allow it to heal. Good night.

…Hold up, no. Don't end this yet.
This is Jay. I usually show up at the end, sorry for that, but it feels fitting.
Knife just walked up to me, in tears, asking "what happened," and I just felt… more complete, more whole than I have in… I want to say "years," but it's probably just days. Days are becoming mini-lifetimes by now, in any case.
But there he was, crying, knowing there was pain, asking where all the blood came from, what happened?? We looked, it wasn't bad actually, nothing deep like Razor does, nothing major. But it had happened, that fact alone was heartbreaking. Knife said Julie was totally distraught, and honestly guys I am not surprised, because I saw her sitting by herself after that hack on Sunday, and the look on her face just ached to see. It was grim, determined, almost too stoic to decipher-- but there was this knowing in her eyes and a pain in her posture that I understood too well. She hasn't forgotten what brought her to where she is now. She knows what happens with hacks. And they are still happening. That look was something I can't put into words, but it broke my heart to see it, and God knows I want this to stop just as much as she does.
But then there's the lack of emotion. There it is, the Plague. It sneaks into my confetti-colored head and it smiles, and it tries to make me believe that it's fine that hacks are happening, why do you care? It's not real, who cares! Except I'm re-reading Young Wizards and that thing feels way too much like the Lone Power.
Oh. About that. Yesterday I power-read through the entirety of High Wizardry, which we originally read over a decade ago, and which there was only the faintest recognition of. The last chapter was a roller coaster of an experience, and the last 20 pages or so had me in legitimate tears. I will not spoil it for you (good Lord go read it) but I will say that I actually had to stop, two or three times, because there was such powerful relevance to headspace and I kept thinking Infi, Infi, this is all Infinitii's message-- and when I closed the book around 1AM ze was there, and I was a mess, and I cannot forget what happened in those first moments.
I was crumpled up in a corner somewhere, in headspace, in a bright place of white light… but miserable. The final chapter of the book had forced me to realize just how much awfulness was in me, in our collective self-- all the selfishness, the bitterness, the dishonesty, the rage, every derivation of negative death, every contribution to entropy. I saw it all and I felt every regret we had and it ripped through me like a blade and I was devastated, I couldn't bear it. I ended up in that corner, wanting to just disappear, ashamed to exist with all that trailing me, us. And then something velvet-black against the light walked over, paused, looked down with something untranslatable in its many eyes, and said: "Jay.
You do realize, I know all of those things, completely?"
I did realize, and the aching shame was unendurable. I said nothing.
"I still love you."
I looked up then, self-hatred and disbelief coloring me bitter.
"How could you?"
At that, Infinitii's expression softened, just a little, just enough.
"How could I not?"
So that was that.
Sorry I can't quite do it justice. We spoke for a bit after that and it felt so entirely cathartic I was shocked; I couldn't remember the last time this chest felt so clear.

Here are some other bits of data the other writers here forgot to/ didn't know about to mention--
- I knew I was in trouble Sunday morning but the body was so exhausted we had no choice but to sleep. I went to Javier's room and slept there hoping he could help protect me, but apparently when I sleep I get "yanked out" of headspace and so he was helpless. He also was not at fault, which I had to emphasize when I returned and he was almost hysterical with misplaced remorse.
- Lynne slept over in my room on Saturday night I think? Just for fun, as I'd been talking to her all that day and anyway I miss the platonic closeness I used to have with everyone. So that was nice.
- I was also talking to Kyanos on Saturday night, as we did our nightly walk. His eyes glow, he does have stained-glass wings, which he said settled in after he was assigned his surname (Kathedrikos).
- I'm trying to tap into people's energy fields again, upstairs. Scent is the easiest as it's the most ethereal, so I'm starting there. Lynne is still rosin/ violin wood/ peaches, while Laurie is still blood/ steel/ lightning. There's also this odd subtle "vibe" to them both that I found interesting-- kind of how for a lot of people, the smell of homemade bread has a "vibe" of comfort and security, due to associations with that sort of environment. Lynne, unsurprisingly, has the vibe of our old violin music school-- comforting and bright, but warm and safe, without feeling "stagnant" like a home. There was a slight bright edge of excitement to it, the knowledge that you were "on the road" but that place was a safe haven in the meantime. Lots of warmth. Laurie, though, has this somewhat personal vibe of protection, again unsurprisingly. But I say "personal" in that Lynne's vibe is more "expansive," like it feels bigger, while Laurie's is very contained, just me and her really, without being "too close." It's basically the knowledge that she's got your back, elaborated into something that feels, oddly, just as "at home" as Lynne does in a different way. Just wanted to mention that.
- Marigold smells like marigolds, the bright warm summery kind. David smells like a blanket (a very cute scent actually) and freshly fallen snow (which surprised me). I can't tune into Jeremiah's field yet-- he's too reticent, which is understandable and okay. Kyanos is-- as he was-- fresh morning air with a late note of honey. Nathaniel smells like a tree. It's hilarious. It's extremely subtle; leaves don't have much of a scent as-is but it's unmistakable. And there's this over-scent I cannot place, something very fine and silvery, delicate stuff. It's not mint, there was some once but there's none now. Leon, though, has this unusual smell of something like brass? I briefly tuned in and I got that vibe-- not the sharp metallic scent some metals have, but this oddly warm and golden tune. And there's something over it that's either vanilla or frankincense and I cannot tell. It's really interesting, as I haven't "checked" on anyone's energy like this in a while and it's amazing to see how it varies over time, with people. Lastly, though, I am happy to report that Knife is still all woodsmoke, but I'm thinking that odd sweet-rich undertone is actually roses, like old dried roses or something. I don't know. It's been ages since I last smelled one but I'll have to find one now, see if the data matches up. Anyway that's that, sorry for the rambling but this is really fascinating to me and I value it.

I tend to get larger blocks of residual data than others, and I'm present for Upstairs stuff typically, so there you go. It is important to write this down. Attention gives power. Attention needs to go to us.

There's a lot that still needs to be written (especially about therapy last week, which I'm working on, and the "memory list" we apparently need to write? oh, and a list of "safe places" for therapy this week) but I'm starting to get slippery. It's late anyway, we need sleep.

I haven't read a jot of this entry at the time of posting this, so I apologize if there's anything unfinished or in need of editing… I have no idea who wrote what, as usual. But I'm glad something was written.

We'll try again tomorrow. Here's to that.

Entry tags:

nov 17 2014

(a warning-- this entry happened during a very bad time and i apologize for any weird or depressing stuff in it)

Nothing scares me more than God.
God sees no difference between what we label 'good' and 'evil.' God would just as soon slit your throat as save your life.
God watched the wars and rapes and said they were His will. Somehow.
God slaughtered men, women, and children in that Holy Book. Why should today be any different?

Demons are ravaging me. I want to kill them, strangle them, tear them to pieces.
The yoga-princess types online say no, no don't do that, surrender and enjoy the moment! "Once you start enjoying pain, things start to get interesting!"
Two words: SCREW THAT.
Cannon did that. Cannon learned how to do that, for years. Guess why we're so broken now?
And you're telling me to lay down my weapons, and bare my neck to the executioner? Say "go ahead, have your way with me," and then smile and enjoy it as they do???
Screw that. I can't enjoy it. Okay? I have tried. Those demons don't leave me the hell alone, they make me feel so sick and tired and disgusting that sometimes I give in just to have peace for the rest of the evening. Peace, pain, blood, regret, and nausea, but peace nonetheless. It's sad.

I can't find headspace. I've been working on the Leagueworlds lately and I fear they've become too corrupted. Sick, but I'm apathetic now. For years I refused to share any of my work because I had seen what "fandoms" did, I knew the torture they could wreak on those who resided in 'fiction,' I knew how horribly they could manipulate the stories I held. I was terrified. But then what would I do? If I couldn't share my work, it would die with me.
So now I'm numb. Now you damned demons have scarred enough of my brain for me to not be able to tell what's true and what's not anymore. Now I suppose I don't care anymore, except I do. Except the thought of someone drawing or writing or thinking such perverted, frightening things about one of the OCs I've come to adore is abominable. I can't allow it. I suppose it's a chance I cannot avoid taking. But I will not allow it.

Go back to hell, you heathen whores. All you false prophets and spiritual guru nutjobs. To hell with you and your ass-up yoga positions and whispery shit mantras and "sexual freedom." To hell with you.
I'm sorry for how ugly this sounds, and for repeating this yet again, but it's not going away.

God wouldn't care. That's what they tell me now.
As a child I was told that God cried, God mourned and sobbed, when his children were butchered by the millions, or when even one of his children was left to die alone. I was told, as a child, that our God was a loving God who saw each and every individual as sacred and lovable and worthy of protection and safety.
But then I was told that some people were going straight to hell, do not pass Go, et cetera. I would wonder: whose children were they, then? God created them, didn't He? So why would He send them to burn forever? I didn't understand, and I still don't.
Now, though, my brain is numb from trying to understand what these new anti-religious people are telling me through their smiles and vegan smoothies. "God is beyond good and evil." And in a way I know that, but it's terrifying still when they can say that while watching the news on television. Arson. Disease. Murder. Rape, the greatest evil. They wave their hands and say, "it's God's will." Or maybe they say, "there's a greater purpose."
In truth we do this to ourselves. We wreak evil all on our own. We put demons in the world, not God. We create hell right on this earth.
But is God watching like the fragments? Is he watching like the splinters? Cold, analytical, impassive?

I want to die but now, they've made me afraid of death. Now, they've convinced me that upon death, some "galactic federation" of aliens will be waiting for me, like a soldier returning from war. They will nod, and give me another mission, or whatever. No heaven, no dreams, no love. Just government and business.
I know it's not like that. It can't be. But that's how they present it, it seems. I don’t know.

I've always dreamed that upon dying, I will go nowhere for a while. I'll go to wherever it is that feels like Infinitii, untouched by the liars and whores. I'll go to the divine blackness, to the compassionate void, to a place where I am faceless and nameless and formless and alive. Forget birth and sex and all that shit. I don't want to be anything but nothing. That's what I've always hoped death is like. Even if I just stay there for a while, and then decide to incarnate somewhere else, that's fine.
I'm just… so scared of what those spiritual people say. You'll die, and then "wake up" in a place where it's just another daily grind. People to interact with, rules to follow, classes to attend, you get the idea. That scares me. I want a break from all that nonsense, please, for the love of anything I don't want to be a slave to another system. Please.
They act like this alien mission in our skies is the "one true reality." Well then, what happens when the aliens die, huh? Or do you claim they are immortal? I hope they aren't. I hope they die, too, so that you can't claim this stupidity anymore. I hope that death is a constant. I hope that transition periods back into blissful nothingness are mandatory. I hope that the concept of identity is just as hollow as I pray it is. Forget "true names" and all that rot. I'm so tired. Forget "twin flames" and all that asinine nonsense. Let me be dust. Let me be starlight. Let me be a mote and a nebula. Forget everything else.

I want to die. I don't know how. I'm scared of what I'll be leaving this life for.
For years, I was terrified that if I killed myself, I'd be "punished" by being forced to reincarnate as a sexual deviant, some sort of prostitute. I'd be stuck in that life, being forced to endure that sort of behavior, unable to escape. I didn't realize until last year how bizarre that belief was-- I always thought I'd reincarnate in someone else's head. Never in my own body, never as my own consciousness, so to speak. Always a carry-on in a different brain. Stuck. Scared.
It's kind of like that now, actually. This body is practically a carbon copy of the mother, right down to the astrology. It's terrifying. I don't remember the childhood, but there's a lingering "all my life" feeling, a fear, that I am not allowed to have my own life-- by divine decree, no less!-- because I HAVE to become the mother. I HAVE to imitate her every action and thought. I don't have a choice, you know, your chart says you're the same as her, so you'd better act like it!!
I'll never forget, the one time I actually called a legit astrologist on the phone. She did it professionally. I spoke to her for a while, gave her my info… she didn't believe I was born in a Taurus body. "You act nothing like a Taurus." And then she laughed. No condemnation, no demanding I adhere. It was one of the most freeing things I'd ever heard. "You act nothing like your mother."

I'm so scared of her, God I don't know WHY, I wish I could just talk to her and talk this out, somehow, but that's not possible. She gets violently angry and offended whenever I so much as suggest that I'm scared of her. "You blame me for everything!" "This is why I never come here!" "You f*cking kids make my life miserable!" And then of course the countless phrases damning me for being a freak/ psycho/ idiot/ failure/ etc.
It doesn't faze me anymore. The only thing that bothers me is the fact that she won't discuss this with me in a sensible fashion. I want to be able to say, effectively, "something about you triggers terror in my psyche, and it's making me act negatively towards you. I don't want to do that. Can we discuss this to try and find the roots of such a fear, because I sincerely don't remember about 70% of this lifetime?" And all I want her to do in return is say "okay, I'll be equally honest with you, and try to help you not be frightened of me anymore." I think. I actually don't know what I'd need her to say. I think I want her to just understand, is all. I want to apologize, profusely, because a lot of the things about her that terrify me, she's not doing on purpose for that reason. Certain bits of her actual personality, things that make her "her," scare me. Things she has no control over, concerning her own appearance or life, scare me. I know she's not doing this stuff on purpose. I don't hate her. She's just… she scares me to death because she looks like everything ugly inside my brain and the world keeps telling me that is my inescapable future. I CANNOT be her, because in order to copy her exactly, I would have to consciously go against my own innate tendencies, my own 'personality.' The world tells me that's not acceptable. The world tells me that I have no "innate tendencies" other than the ones my mother has. You HAVE to like this, you HAVE to do that, because SHE does, and you ARE her.
Why the hell is THIS my biggest fear?? In a joking way it's rather common, the "growing up to become your parent" fear, but this… this feels like disobeying will damn me, cruelly. The forces insisting I become her are not saying that for my own good. They are saying that because "the rules say so," because "this is the way it HAS to be," because I can't be a variable or a glitch or a different program altogether, I HAVE to follow the code. Screw that.

What do I want to be. I don't know. Dead, maybe.
Transitioning is helping. It's making this body look new in some places, something my continually fading memory has no data for, and that's nice. I cannot wait until the face begins to look notably different, probably not until we get some substantial facial hair. But it's such a profound comfort, to be able to look in the mirror and NOT see Sharon, or Jessica, or Jezebel, or Spinny.
Admittedly, currently we see Jayce, and if you'll forgive me he was kind of an ass. He and Pinstripe were not nice people, it's just how they were manifested. That time period was ugly in that sense. But they aren't permanent either, I'm sure.

I'm so tired. I'm so, so, so tired.
I want to go out. I want to go in, but I can't reach anything anymore, and that's the lesser of two evils. I'm so tired of being a person. Headspace fractures me too much. Heartspace is a different thing, it's where Infi lives, it's where the new realms are forming… things are strange. There's a difference. In heartspace I'm formless, I'm a ghost. I prefer that.
I miss being a pure watcher, for the League, but it's been so long… timelines are warped now. The past few years have mangled a lot of my perspective. I'm hoping and praying that I can destroy those timelines, breaking that misery off and letting it fade into oblivion. If I can do that, then by God I will. Let me be the psychopomp I've always sadly wanted to be. Let me break off all the branches that are keeping this tree from growing. Let me slice this timeline back into one pure path, so that space can finally blossom again.
After the Scratch, I wasn't supposed to be a destroyer figure anymore. But we all know what happened that summer.
It keeps looping. Late 2011, Julie switched sides, the Tar appeared, our entire method of functioning changed. Something happened in 2012 that erased most of the year, making time in general feel like shredded tissue paper. The disasters of early 2013 caused a massive implosion, effectively "erasing" a good part of our internal structure, and then Infi was born from the breakage, and the Underground opened up. Then, in the last weeks of 2013 there was another implosion, obliterating almost every foothold we had regained, and leaving us in a mess until now. And it feels like we're on the verge of another meltdown.
I still wonder, every day, if we were ever meant to rebuild at all.

I'm so tired. I do love headspace, I do. Some people are still reachable. Infinitii always is. The Jabberwock has been oddly close lately. For the most part I feel stuck right on the verge of the bodymap, right where the Chthonics are, before things break into the Downstairs/ Social level. I don't like that level, no offense to the people that live there. It just… it makes me want to cry. It feels so agitated and hollow. I don't like it here very much.

Therapy is tomorrow. I don't know what to say.
The body's been sick. Taking small smart steps towards improving that.

Oh, some good news at least. I've been making a lot of progress on Dream World lately, at least as far as cleaning-up goes. It's just a crushing amount of work. I currently have ten files open to compare notes, as well as two folders and several printouts on my desk. It makes me want to cry from frustration, it's overwhelming, I don't know where to start. So I'm just picking little things at random, working on them as much as I can. It's something.
I'm so worried about several characters. They've been so, so hurt by the Tar, by perspective corruption. I need to fix the timeline. All of that is FALSE. I know it is. I can feel how empty it is, how it leads literally nowhere, ending at a brick wall. It's not their life. I need to go back too, though, I think, in order to see things… I don't know. Maybe.
But work is happening.

I just wish the family wasn't so depressing, at least the grandparents. They are so bitter, so cynical, so hateful, it hurts. Yes I love them, yes they're good people, but even good people can be closed-minded and prejudiced and appallingly incapable of empathy. Right?
I don’t want to give any more energy to that topic, like my therapist forces me to do, then I get sick and want to vomit and can't talk anymore. No more. Just putting that out there. The family atmosphere is too depressing and spiteful to really keep up a good mood in easily. I hope that doesn't make me weak.

I want to make a Jigaria plushie but I have the wrong color fabric. Do you know, how important color is?? The slightest wrong shade changes the whole vibe. I think Jigaria's pink color is warmer, not cooler. There's a certain hot-pink shade that keeps getting stuck to her that is not correct, it warps the entire perspective of her. I disliked her for a while, because of that, she felt so shallow and fake. It's so sad, it's heartbreakingly sad, when did I forget who these people were? Did I ever know? Looking back on childhood memories, it shocks me actually, how little I knew… I never drew the main character, she didn't even have a name until last year, and yet I knew exactly who she was as a person… whereas her fellow Guardians, who I drew constantly, I didn't know as people at all.
I still consider it a hidden blessing that all our old art was lost. Yes, I still ache at the loss of the newer work, the heavy-duty development we'd started shortly before losing it all. But, now that the old stuff is gone, I can no longer pretend that's the "end-all." It's gone now. That half-finished work is no longer the final product. Now there is total freedom to rebuild, with true understanding. I hope. Talking like this hurts. It feels fake, like the high school days. Please forgive me. I don't want to become that sort of person again.

My mind is toxic. I know that. It hurts whatever it touches. I want to keep it far, far away from these worlds I was ordained to protect.
There's just so much noise from the outside now, making my vision blurry. I want to take a long time away from the internet, clear my head. There's too much danger there.

It's only 5:30. Dear lord the winter is rough, there's so much dark. I have 5 hours to go.

I need to meditate. The brain is too jumbled from all this stress. I can't do typing work if I can't think straight, although the number of files I am juggling isn't helping either. I should really narrow that down.

Sorry for the messy updates lately. I want to stop for a while but that just pushes me further into depressed oblivion, because when I don't write things down I forget all of it. Then I don’t know where I am or what I'm doing. So even if I do take a massive break from the internet there will likely be updates here every so often, posted from my computer. Just saying.

Good night. I really can't force myself to type anymore.

screaming yellow

this is a mindspill.
we're not doing this bad in reality, this is just coming up to be dealt with
this is non-censored stream of consciousness typing
i am sorry if it is raw or brutal or angry that is just how it is

I don't feel anything anymore. Is this normal? Is this "enlightened," to be utterly devoid of feeling?
But that's not true, is it (shut the fck up with the drama). See? (SHUT THE FCK UP)
rage, hatred, self-loathing is present
I SWEAR TO GOD IF YOU DON’T SHUT YOUR FCKING MOUTH I WILL KILL YOU
All this condemnation
SHUT UP
Saying I'm a drama queen whore just for talking
BECAUSE YOU'RE BEING SO DAMN DRAMATIC YOU ATTENTION WHORE
I'm just trying to talk.
FCK OFF, BITCH. HUMBLE YOURSELF.

You're not supposed to talk when you're enlightened. You have to lose all sense of self. Speaking is selfish, it shows that you think you are proud and arrogant enough to be some special opinionated thing. Fuck off.

I really don’t want to talk to mel anymore. I feel no ties to them but I feel I have no choice, like I HAVE to cling to them even if it makes me cringe. I never really felt a connection to them as a person. We have nothing in common.
YES YOU DO YOU FCKING PRICK. TALK TO THEM, STOP BEING A SELFISH BITCH.
I would only ever talk to them about our respective headspaces.
BECAUSE YOU'RE AN ENTITLED SELFISH BITCH. SHUT YOUR FCKING MOUTH. LET THEM TALK ABOUT THEMSELF. LISTEN TO THEM. DON'T YOU SAY A FCKING WORD.
Then I'm just a receptacle.
GOOD. BE A RECEPTACLE. FOR ALL THEY PUT IN YOU. TAKE IT.
…I don't want to.
FCK OFF. YOU HAVE NO RIGHT TO SAY NO. FOLLOW YOUR ORDERS. MEL IS HOLIER THAN YOU. MEL IS BETTER THAN YOU. MEL HAS NO REASON TO THINK OF YOU EVER, SO STOP DEMANDING THAT THEY DO, YOU FCKING JERKASS FCK.
I don't demand anything of them.
THEN WHY DO YOU ALWAYS WANT THEM TO THINK OF YOU, YOU FCKER.
I don't know? I guess I feel that, since I'm "obligated to be at their beck and call," it would be nice to see that reciprocated in a vague acknowledgement of me once in a while.
SELFISH. YOU'RE A SELFISH BITCH. HOW DARE YOU ASK. THE PRAYERS SAY, "GRANT THAT I MAY NEVER SEEK SO MUCH TO BE CONSOLED AS TO CONSOLE." YOU WILL BE COMFORTLESS. YOU WILL GET NOTHING. BUT YOU WILL GIVE EVERYTHING.
Is that good?
IT IS THE BEST THING. YOU MUST EMPTY YOURSELF FOR OTHERS.
Then what do I do when no one else is around?
IMPOSSIBLE. THERE ARE ALWAYS OTHERS. DEDICATE YOUR LIFE TO THEM.
So does this mean I am not allowed to have opinions or personal wants?
NO. NONE OF THEM. YOU EAT WHAT YOU ARE GIVEN, YOU COMPLAIN NOT, YOU ASK NOT. YOU DO WHAT YOU ARE TOLD, YOU REBEL NOT, YOU COMPLAIN NOT. YOU DO WHAT YOU ARE TOLD. YOU LIVE FOR THE SERVICE OF OTHERS. YOU DO NOTHING OUT OF LINE.

mel took that photo that looks exactly like me and tagged it to their friend instead
"this reminds me of someone else"
and I thought,
"my identity has been erased. my face has now been repainted as another. I am no one now."
mel has slowly taken my "identity" away from me since I left in 2012
they have stolen bits and pieces away, absorbing them into theirself, giving them to others
the things they used to say reminded them of me, now remind them of entirely separate things
and the things that were still of me, they have reassigned
I am powerless to stop it
I am powerless to question it
maybe that's why some part of me hates them
and I can't seem to let go.
there is this awful frantic bitter fear in this fact, that mel is erasing us from existence
since we hinge our existence on their acknowledgement of us
even if we don't know them or want to have anything to do with them anymore as a result
we feel no ties to them and want to leave, but they will not let us
no hard feelings, but is that true if someone tells you that you are having hard feelings anyway?
If I am mentally convinced that you still feel for me the way you did after we left, what do I do?
I never saw a change. You told me I was the opposite of light. You told me I was no longer a sunrise. You told me I had used and abused you. And part of me never let go of that, because it broke when it heard that, and that part of my mind is still stuck in that moment. How do we move on, without moving on from you too?
It's not that we don't want to. It's that we are not allowed to, God knows why.

I guess it's to be expected. Mel doesn't know who we are either. Their timeline didn't freeze when we left.
We're still glitching out somewhere between October 2012 and now. We're not sure what happened with them and their husband and their friends. Our memory is mangled now. But, Mel came walking out of that unseeable space, and now we don't know what to do. We've sworn obedience to them simply because they exist, and they asked us first, and we cannot refuse. But we're tired and sad and frustrated and we just want to cry and pull our hands away, because that is over for us, it never even was in the first place, why are you keeping us there when you have people to replace our shadow? We were nothing but a placeholder, otherwise we would feel differently. Our role in your life is over. I will never see you acknowledge me, or care for me like you care for them, and I do not need you to. Honestly I would feel uncomfortably trapped if you did, because that would again chain me there, and I must move on. But your words have already nailed me to the floor. What do I do?

I will practice. Piece by piece.
I will go on Mel's blog and I will say to myself, "this is a person I am no longer tied to." I will mentally release them, and look at them as if they are a stranger I am just looking at. It doesn't hurt that way.
I will no longer expect, or fear, or seek anything from them. They are separate from me. I am separate from them. They have no ties on me, nor I to them. Our lives are no longer tangled. I am free and so are they and all their friends. I am not part of their world anymore, for I did not belong there to begin with.

And maybe that's why I "hate" headspace.
That is the only thing keeping me stuck to Mel.
Their people knew our people, once. Once. They have no idea who we are now, nor we them.
Mel knows maybe six of us, out of seventy. And… God forgive me if I say this, but talking to them makes me cry. It does. Hot angry tears run down my face and I close my computer, because they never stop asking questions. "I don't understand this." "What do you mean by this?" "Explain this." It's all so goddamned logical and cold and I swear to God I NEVER FELT ANYTHING LIKE WARMTH FROM HER. EVER.
THAT IS WHY I AM SO FCKING BITTER THEY SAID THEY LOVED US BUT THERE WAS NEVER ANY LOVE
THERE WAS ONLY THIS FCKING MENTAL ASSESSMENT OF EVERYTHING AND EVERYONE
WHEN THE HELL DID EITHER OF THEM EVER SHOW EMOTIONS TOWARDS US
ANY OF US
WAS THERE EVER GENUINE EMOTION FROM THEM
probably, yes, there probably was
but we couldn't recognize it as it was a totally foreign language to us. smothered, muffled, quiet, hidden.
I am so freaking sorry but that wasn't for me. is that selfish? I can't say no.
GOD DAMN IT I WANT TO SAY NO YOU NEVER GAVE ME THAT LUXURY BEFORE
YOU NEVER LET US SAY NO TO HIM
AND WE WANTED TO SAY NO
SO MANY TIMES
WHY DO YOU THINK WE DON’T REMEMBER HIM BECAUSE WE DIDN'T WANT TO BE THERE IN THE FIRST PLACE
SAME WITH MEL, YOU NEVER LET US SAY NO TO THEM, THEY ARE NOT FOR US AND WE ARE NOT FOR THEM
MEL DOES NOT FCKING NEED US YOU FCKING PRICK!!!!!!! OTHERWISE THEY WOULD HAVE REACHED OUT TO US SOONER AFTER THEY LEFT!!!! AND THEY DID NOT!!!! THEY ARE DOING MUCH BETTER NOW THAN THEY EVER DID WITH US SO FCK THE HELL OFF AND LET THEM BE!!!!

I don't know what to do.
Mel says they "need" us there to listen. What if I can't? I mean, I can, but I'm just sitting here as a mailbox. I'm just looking at what they send me, the paragraphs telling of a life I don't know or understand, and wishing them well from a distance. Honest to God I hope their therapist takes my place, because I am literally doing NOTHING but typing up programmed replies, judging "what is correct to say" and saying it. Yes I mean well, but this is so contrived, so shallow.
It would be so much easier if they didn't shower us with praise afterwards. "You help so much!" I didn't even do anything! I read your words, wrote a fitting response, and yes I genuinely wish you the best but I can't do this, I am so fcking sorry, is that selfish? Is that weak and arrogant and evil? Am I allowed to say "this is spiritually exhausting for me" or will I get a divine slap in the face for daring to object to this task?

Maybe I shouldn’t post this. This is just a mindspill. I'm just typing to get the screaming scribbles out of my head.
But I am so terrified that Mel will read this, and they will hate us, and that anger will be reciprocated by God who will punish us terribly for daring to speak out like this. Isn't that weird? We feel that her reaction to us will be magnified a thousand times by the world, as some sort of holy order. If we make her happy, then we may continue in life healthily for a while. The second we make her feel sad, or angry, or alone, then we will be punished terribly just the same. I am so sick of this. I want to be free, but saying that is evil.

The problem is, if I believe that, the punishment thing, it will come true. I will magnetize it to me. I want to stop believing that but I cannot see anything else to believe, as I am convinced that this situation is the only "right" thing to do.
Daring to believe that I have no existential anchor to Mel feels like blasphemy, but it's tempting. It's so damn tempting, to dream of being unfettered. Is that the sinner's song? Is that the apple of Eden? Is that the black mark in my book that will send me to hell, that first flicker of rebellion, and then I am lost forever?
Why the hell am I still fighting this fight?

I don't want to think about this anymore, I am actually getting physically ill. Again. I usually do, when I think about them, IT IS NOT THEIR FAULT but it's true on my end. God I want to absolve them BY LETTING GO.
They do not deserve to have this reflected here. They deserve to be free, but they cannot be if we are tied to them!! LET US LET GO!!!!!
don't you DARE tell me to shut the fck up, I am ALLOWED TO SAY THINGS
YES I AM
IF I WASN'T ALLOWED TO HAVE A "SELF" THEN WHY DID I INCARNATE HERE
to "destroy the self" you say, to become "nothingness" again
well that is what we were attempting via suicide, which you ALLOW, just want to put that out there
you are a-okay with us killing ourselves, but not with living.
why the fck does that feel more morally correct than the alternative, this isn't right

back to the first paragraph, on that note, stop shoving me away from this topic i don't trust you anymore
no i don't, if it's a sin then i'll risk it for now
stop screaming at me to obey what does obeying mean
"shutting up" you say, okay, and then doing what?
"nothing," you say. "doing nothing, and dying the little death."
so what about in the meantime? am i allowed to eat or sleep or wash or anything?
one of you calls me a "fcking hedonist" for that, another of you says "only as much is allowed to keep you alive and dying"
fck off
just, fck off, all of you
you feel terrible, go away

first paragraph.
i feel nothing! again! why the hell is this common!
there USED to be relationships in headspace. maybe as recently as two days ago. maybe as far away as ten years ago. who knows.
time 4372859 we've had this conversation, probably, right?
and i will tell you WHY we've stopped having relationships of any sort, because it's happening RIGHT NOW.
this goddamned programming keeps shoving people into EVIL contexts. corrupted contexts, it's WRONG.
guess what? those images and words in your head? that uncomfortable, ugly, scary, shaky stuff? that they are saying those people are doing?
guess what. LOOK AT IT. tune into it. tap into the energy. guess what? IT'S FAKE. IT COLLAPSES IMMEDIATELY. IT IS NOT THEM.
you know it. you know it. i'm excited. you KNOW it. it's the tar!!! it's the tar, and the plague is the showmaster, he's pulling the strings. he's making them dance, like that, badly, but it's not them. you know it. you can feel it.
that's why you get confused when you go by images or forms alone. bodies lie. pictures lie. feelings don't. FEELINGS DON'T.
whatever feels right, in your HEART, is TRUE. who cares what it looks like or what form it is wearing. eschew your five senses for a minute, be that daring, be that scared in order to be free to the truth. listen to your sixth sense, the one that looks beyond, the one that recognizes the constant thing you are really trying to feel. i don't care what the tar says they are doing. they are NOT DOING IT. you can FEEL IT.

laurie does NOT ACT LIKE THAT. neither does chaos, or genesis for that matter. THEY DO NOT ACT LIKE THAT.
infinitii gets stuck sometimes in the tar but ze will stop as soon as you remind hir what hir heart is. ALWAYS. you know it. that's why ze is never hacked, because ze is free, by knowing in hir heart. ze does it, you know. you can too. you should, always.

this is important. forget what was before. let go of it. it is tying you to the past. this song is sending you a message, so listen to it and accept it.
stop listening to the bad voices, please jay, they do not have your best interests in mind. they do not care about the well-being of your heart. at all.

but i'm scared
i don't want to get "attached to people" when i love them
but where is the line? where is the line between my loving them, and the universe telling me "no, they will never love you back?"
why do i care? i should not care. but weirdly, i feel the strongest loves must be reciprocated, as those loves must be shared and echoed. otherwise... guess what, i feel almost nothing. i love, sure, but it's just a simple, ripple-less love. it's basic, and that's fine too.
but i miss the love that brings you to tears. i miss the love that makes you sing, and paints the air the color of flowers. maybe that's stupid language, but it's the only thing those feelings translate into. rainbow colors and music. i don't feel that much anymore, because i am terrified that those things mean i am "attached," that i am being "demanding" or "manipulative." why???
i want to feel like that again but i am fcking terrified that those feelings will turn me into a slut again.
i am so scared of that i am sorry, but please understand
the last time i tried to express that, i fell into an old and twisted program, and i
i fell into a very bad place
we all did
i do not ever ever EVER want that to happen again even if that means shutting off everything that may lead to it
is that the best choice? shutting off all emotions, to avoid accidentally becoming an abuser, or turning someone else into one? why does that happen?

i don't think words are the best place to reflect upon this.
i have to stay up another hour, someone ate late, i need to forgive them
they need to forgive themselves, which is even harder most times
they believe that when the body gets sick, when it gets swollen or in pain or otherwise frightened
it is god telling them "you are not worthy of having a healthy body, because you fcked up big time"
"you made a mistake, and you do not deserve to look respectful, or feel comfortable in your own skin."
it feels like a punishment, a declaration of total unworthiness. also a declaration that they are unworthy of respect and love from others too.
it is a horrible thing
i don't think it is true, do you? he just got sick. no the body got sick. because we put sick stuff into it i guess. we weren't careful. but jay cares about the body, he doesn't want it to get sick, he knows that! he made a mistake, or he wasn't watching, and that's okay, he will try again better. he doesn't hate the body he loves it and he loves us and he wants it to get better. so we shouldn't hate it.
we don't hate it we are afraid god hates us because we fcked up and hurt the body
but we didn't want to though. we tried and messed up a little and we will try again better tomorrow right?
can we?
yeah. as long as we are aliving we can still try.
okay.

see it's that simple
god doesn't punish you that's not god! that's those bad people!
god has consequences. you fck up you pay consequences
but not because he hates you! god does not punish you because he hates you. if you pay consequences you get sick because you ate a sick thing. it's not evil it's just sick and sad. and you have to heal it by loving it. right? so the consequences aren't all bad really.
someone says "loving them" means sex
no!!! stop saying that someone, it's not true! stop it!
it can be
stop it. "it can be" maybe. not for us. okay? not by forcing, not by telling us we have to. that's not love, ever. stop it. please.
okay

what does "loving us" mean then
the feeling jay was talking about earlier. or feeling.
i don't think he was here
no not all the way. okay but he knows what that feeling is. the smiling at the sky feeling. the happy sparkle quiet feeling. quiet! not the loud one. that one's mean. the loud one doesn't love she screams and doesn't love anything, she just wants to make noise and things.
real love is quiet?
yes from the heart. that's what i know. it is not demanding like those other people say. so when the body gets sick and we love it, that means we see it quiet as it is on its best days. we see it as a good thing that is just sick for a little while. it is not sick forever and it will get better. so we acknowledge that it is sick but then we help it get better because it deserves it and so do we. okay? that's all i know sorry.
that's okay that feels a little better thank you
who are you?
i don't know jessica maybe. young girl. teenager. drifty.
oh you're faceless mostly too. okay.

should we talk about anything else?
no tired
okay. good bye everyone sorry about all the words before us i don't know what it is but it feels bad.
it is bad don't look at it
okay. good night

Entry tags:

an attempt

SESSION PARTICIPANTS

LAURIE UBERICH

JAY IRIDOS

???

Freakin' finally.

Sorry. I don’t know why I keep putting this off.

I do. You don’t want to face up to this fact.

There's doubt. So much doubt. It's hard to talk to any of you anymore.

And that is why. If you don't believe in any of us, how the heck are we supposed to talk to you?

…

Kid?

Sorry. It's just weird. I feel so utterly detached from both myself and you.

Kid, listen. You're real, okay? I'm real. But this ego garbage is not real. Whatever the heck has been running the body in your absence is NOT real, and it is CORRUPT. It is screwing up everyone's lives because it refuses to see past its own negative obsessions. All right? Don't listen to it.

Can we not focus on the negative?

Like what? Jay, some things need to be discussed.

Well then let's discuss them. Let's just not get buried in them.

Sounds good to me. Where do we start?

You're asking me?

Well yeah, you're the one dealing with them, ain't ya?

Well, yeah, but… not really.

And that's the problem.

I don't think I'm supposed to be the core.

Whoa whoa wait, what?

I think Jewel is a better fit than me.

Jay, that's not you talking. Jay. Talk to me.

I'm trying.

No. Don't give me that garbage. Whoever you are, back off. Jay. Mister sparkly-eyed cupcake-haired idiot. Where the heck are you? You say Jewel is more fit to front than you, I say that's nonsense, the both of you are important and YOU'RE the one running with headspace. Okay? Where are you.

Being smothered.

No kidding. Where.

Inside. We might have to talk to the ego thing.

Heck no, you said no getting buried in negativity, and that's what that thing consists of. Talk to me.

About?

About whatever the heck you want, kid. Actually wait, no. Talk to me about Chaos.

Why?

Because he's the number one catalyst for everything up here, thanks to his name, thanks to his role, thanks to his love for you and your love for him.

And there's the rejection.

See, where the heck is that coming from?

Jessica maybe? Cannon? The negative peeps, you know that. The girls who view enjoyment and love as hedonistic and selfish and stuff.

Why?

Because as a child we were told "life is suffering" yada yada. And yes, there is pain in life. But suffering is optional, as they say. It's a state of mind.

Good, now you're getting closer. But seriously, why the heck do they keep telling you that you don't love him? Or shouldn't, or whatever?

Two things. Reasons. One, "identity is a sin?" That's what I just got.

Why the heck would identity be a "sin."

Because it's a lie? No see, that's twisted. We're all one, sure. But we're all facets of one. Like us. Maybe that's why they hate us.

They hate us because we take the attention away from them and try to live as individuals in a positive way. This "can't have a self" nonsense is exactly how they get away with the hypocrisy of denying the same thing they tell us. We can't exist, therefore, they can. It's nonsense. Garbage. Sorry I keep saying those words, but it is. You hear what I'm saying?

Yes, of course. And see I understand it, but there are roots it needs and hasn’t put down yet… it hurts to talk.

It hurts to think, probably. Cognitive dissonance. Sorry about that, I know it happens with channels.

It's okay. I just need to learn how to center more, in my existence. Like the only reason it's hard is because I'm separating from myself.

Which you do a lot. Actually, can we talk about that too? Why you keep blanking out for everything?

It's the 'purity' thing. There's a lot of misplaced judgment. "Eating is evil," "the body is shameful," et cetera. And the self-hate and loathing tied to those things chases me out, because it is very strong, and it brings other people in.

So we need more willpower on our part?

We need reprogramming, and positive reinforcements. It's hard to have 'more willpower' when I'm not exactly the one in the drivers seat to have the willpower. Which is why jumpbacks help. Anything to snap the attention back to me pushes the scales in my favor. Me or Jewel, really. Hence all the League work lately. But yeah, it's a battle we've effectively already won, they just refuse to stop fighting?

I know, kid. And remember that, okay? That we've made enough progress not to ever fall back to where they are. You keep thinking you're losing forward movement and you're not. You don't 'reset' just because you have a bad day.

I think it's tough because those old voices never moved forwards and so I get caught in their energy fields.

Huh. Makes sense.

But. But but but. I read something yesterday and it made total sense. Self-rejection includes them. At heart I know they're important for teaching and healing and broader understanding--

Yeah, Infi taught you that.

Sure did. But… the kneejerk reaction, the one tied to the Plague stuff, is to reject it. "Total purity." And really that's a false ideal. That needs to be fully accepted too. The old Christian mindset of a "spotless soul" has got the wrong roots. It doesn't mean being utterly, infallibly perfect, because in order to do that according to all the rules we'd have to die. It's impossible. Mistakes and missteps happen, but they're steps and not stumbling blocks if you stop viewing them as such. Sorry I'm rambling.

No it's okay kid, go on.

No, when I say "sorry I'm rambling," I really mean that I'm talking too much and I don't want to. I'm not comfortable with blather anymore. I know those things. I need to live them better.

Then please do. With us, okay? I hate to say it but you can't do it alone, simply because we're all part of your soul too, and you're part of ours.

Thank you. That's still one of the most comforting things I've ever heard.

I know. That's why I said it. Now. Chaos. Talk.

There's a barrier.

Why the heck has there been a barrier there for the past few years. Who the heck put it up.

Doubt? But mostly Cannon. I told you it's twofold: one--

You never said the second one. One was the identity thing.

Yeah, but I kind of said that wrong. It's really the fact that Cannon sees all relationships as "wrong," specifically in a "slutty" manner, and a relationship can only happen between two individuals. Therefore the negation of existence so that no love happens.

What the heck, that's insane.

Yeah. But I think that's it. "If no one really exists, I don't have to care about anyone, because none of this is real." So to speak. She's just terrified of relationships, because they're tied to Spinny, who is sheer programming and negative feminine things. I really don't want to talk about this, it hurts and makes me sick.

Because of what it brings to mind.

Yeah. Spinny is a mask. She's behavior specifically tailored to "be what everyone wants her to be." Basically, a flirty, pet-name calling, relationship-based robot. She was born from the societal lie that females have to be objects for sexual ends. It's wrong, and sick, but she took it as her purpose. Ironically she's not a 'person,' just a manufactured identity. Cannon sees both as synonymous? I don't know. Like I said I don't get it and it literally makes me nauseous to think about.

Then don't. We know enough about them. What we don't know is why that STILL hasn't been redefined with a better, non-abusive, non-lying definition.

Because… because of the self-hatred. Reason two. "We're too filthy to love."

Ah.

Self-annihilation because she sees the self as inherently separate from others, from God or whatever you want to call it. Hatred of others because she sees them all as puppets like Spinny, operating only to rape and abuse and lie. That's her worldview. I don't like it.

No kidding, none of us do, and I am seriously offended on Chaos' behalf that he would be lumped in with that definition.

He's not.

Not for you, no. But for her. She doesn't care at all, she calls everyone under that label and you know it.

Yeah. That's true. She's just so scared, all the time.

And she hasn't taken solace in the fact that Chaos has never done any of that stuff?

She says he has. You know about hacks and slippage.

…Oh. So for her there is no hope.

No. Because she sees herself, ourself, and the fact that hacks USE love and relationships, SPECIFICALLY, as backup for that. Sorry that was convoluted. Hacks exist to destroy unity and compassion. They are utterly malevolent and

Kid, you okay?

Yeah. I guess. Head just blurry is all. The reason why there's still a block against Chaos is because we're in a relationship, and Cannon is spitting at that very phrase as if it were the devil itself. She says it is, by the way.

Why?

"He just told you," and a pronoun misuse.

Kid, are you slipping?

Negativity. "She" is tied to the old female cores who hold this stuff. Sorry. Let me center.

He can't center, he'll black right out!! He's not tied to this!

Is that why he can't be with Chaos? You keep calling "fire" and chasing him the heck out when there's no real danger, ever??

…All relationships are dangerous. All relationships-- wait, are you recording this?

Yeah. Talk.

…Relationships are evil. Because they are sexual.

They are not, and you need to talk to Infi.

I will not talk to that slut!!

Excuse me??

I will not talk to that slut. That thing. You know. With its sexuality and all that evil.

Infi exists to show us exactly what things got put in the subconscious, which equals every sexual or sensual thing ever, no matter how vague or distant it might be from the actual defined term. Heartbeats. Water. Space. Freakin' everything. ANYTHING that got even vaguely tied to love got labeled as "sexual" because of that horrific abuse we went through.

It never happened.

Oh no you don't, don't start this game with me. It DID. Just because you or I wish it didn't doesn't mean it didn't. It had consequences, and you are living proof of it. So am I, to an extent.

…I hate you.

Why?

Because… you're a threat. They keep putting targets on you.

Why, because he loves me?

That's an ugly word.

What the heck-- you do realize that love has NOTHING to do with sex in and of itself, right?

Yes it does, the spir
itual people said so.

Okay, and now you're breaking, who the blood is this?

Spinningcannon. Gamboge. Somebody.

Gamboge? What the heck, Gamboge was sacrifice.

Atonement. She was atonement. She had the bitemarks on her arms. She was self-annihilation. For this.

For the sexuality?

Ugly word.

Why?

It IS ugly and you know it, YOU'D never touch it!!!

No joke I'd never touch it, it's not my job. But I don't hate it. I just shrug at it, that's your own business. And I don't hate people who use it either, because unlike you, I've realized that the tarheads who go about raping and abusing people are redefining something which inherently has NOTHING to do with that. Again.

That's not what this is about. It's disgusting in and of itself?

What, sex?

Yeah. How can you say that word??

Then don't have it. Simple as that. You don't need to, and I don't care what the alleged "religious community" says. If it's forcing that on you, or anyone, they shouldn't be calling themselves "religious" in the first place.

They do. They say I have to.

You don't. Look at Infi. Look at Chaos. There are OTHER, non-detrimental ways to use that same emotional energy, you know!

…I don't want to touch it.

Then don't. Redefine it all 100%. This isn't black and white, kid, okay? Just… stop hating people because they're in love, just because this bloody wreck of a society has lied to you in saying love equals sex. It is an absolute freaking lie and I swear I cannot believe this hasn't been healed since 2011. I cannot believe it.

Believe it. It's true.

Yeah, maybe, but I have hope. I have hope in that little feathered nightmare we have up here now. The Black one, if you can't tell.

Sorry.

No, it's fine. Glad you're back.

This conversation is going nowhere, huh?

No, it could. Back to what you were saying outside the room about "obligatory behavior." That nonsense doesn't exist, Jay.

I know. But fear begs to differ.

…Yeah, I figured. Moral fear, or what?

…I don't know? It's more like surrender, of the bad sort. The white flag. "Well, they said I should do this, so…" and then I'm gone, totally gone, and God only knows what happens then.

You know they notice, right? They all notice. I notice.

Then why the heck do hacks keep happening???

…Because half the time that happens you insist it's still you. Or whoever the heck you are. And those aren't very safe spaces.

You're safe. You're always safe.

I know. But I haven't been around lately.

…

Sorry.

No. It's my fault. Our fault. Whoever is up front's fault. Whoever keeps rejecting the entire inner world, saying it's fake.

Probably Fogbank. Either way, kid, be careful, please.

With?

Everything. Especially this Chaos thing. Your heart is being totally blocked out from love and that is causing all of our problems.

There's so much hate and shame tied to it.

Hate? Why the blood is hate there?

Hate because he loves me, and the old brain says "no way, I'm not dealing with this relationship nonsense again."

The Q thing?

Don't tie his name to that still, he doesn't deserve it.

But he did put a lot of weight into that fear.

BP did too. That was way earlier, AND it was forced on us by the mother. Thank God Ryman and Markus saved us from that one, but it sowed the seeds for utter repulsion in Cannon later on. "Not this corrupt stupidity again." Whereas Spinny immediately played the role, too terrified to risk losing a friend, or appearing a freak, or going against what was "morally good and normal."

Ah.

Yeah. So… when we fell in love, when we actually realized that now we were allegedly in the same position as those people, stuff broke. A lot. Jewel got fractured as hell and--

Jay, watch your language. Calm down.

Sorry. Let me breathe.

Please do.

…You know they have that listed as sexual, too.

You have got to be kidding me. Breathing?

Yeah. Because of Chaos, probably.

Kid, that has nothing to do with sex, okay?

Except it does. Except we blur the lines way too freaking much and I am sorry for the language, Laurie, but that is the only way this is going to get out raw.

…Okay, fine. Spit it out, then.

Okay. In my mind, in this mind, thanks to both Infinitii and the previous cores, sexuality is a warzone. On one hand, it is falsely defined as the hedonistic, abusive, manipulative lies that society sold us. On the other hand, it is tied to rape and hatred and everything the old Julie did. Total violation and humiliation, disgust and wrongness, the feeling that our body was utterly filthy and disgusting and alien to us and a betrayal because of what it did. Lies, both of them. Yes the rape and abuse was traumatic because it did involve a feeling of total panicked confusion, what the hell are you doing to me, oh God it hurts, stop please, what is happening to my body, et cetera. Old info, raw data, hard to get at.

Kid, are you slipping?

Yeah. Very vague. Let me talk. So that's the dark part. Thinking sex is all white pain and screaming and spitting and animal motions. Lipstick and female figures and breathing and sounds. Things that horrify the children and will get Wreckage at your throat in an instant, trying to kill you so no one gets hurt beyond repair again.

Kid, this isn't beyond repair.

No. It's not. That's the hope. But the children don't believe it when they haven't felt any of it, the hope.

Ah…

Yeah. Ashen hasn't felt hope yet. Neither have David or Marigold, at least not on a family level. You get the picture. Jeremiah is helping but it's all female trauma, we were only ever actually hurt by women. The men were the romantic ones, who made you feel disgusting and filthy, who made you feel like those women. We don't know what would have happened if they pushed boundaries. Thank God they didn't.

Yeah, you said it…

But. Sex is one thing. That's the two hands. What we have, up here, isn't sex, by its very definition. At least, the way we define it. 'Sex' is that physical act, disgusting, painful, wrong, frightening. But it shouldn't be. And so we redefined it on our own terms, and it broke. We redefined it, Chaos and Genesis and Infi and I, but we forgot to tie two and two together. We couldn't. The two things couldn't touch. The bonding between us, all of us, has nothing to do with that physical act. So reproductive stuff… it's still scary. How do we heal it?

Geez, Jay, I don’t know, I didn't realize we were working on a different level all along to that extent.

I thought you knew?

No, it… Eros blurred the lines all the freaking time. Infi does too, you know that. But…

But that's really uncomfortable and scary and I always tell hir to stop. And ze does. Ze doesn't force anything AND ze is acutely aware of how hacks are written into the fabric of that definition by now.

…How?

Sex is impossible for us. We're asexual, we feel no need or want for it, and that's fine. But we were also abused, so we don't have the luxury of "giving it a shot and saying no later." Like these people who try it and then decide nah, this is boring or silly or something else harmless. For us it's terrifying and the INSTANT there is a threat of it, we dissociate. Every time. I have never, never been able to stop that.

Your identity is written right out of it. So if they tell you Chaos is trying to have sex with you, which he bloody isn't, you're gonna get kicked out either way.

Yeah. As long as love and intimacy are wrongly defined as "sexual threats" it's going to be tough to be around him.

But it's not always? I mean, the other night, with you two in the car--

Exactly. We can easily be together safely, we just don't let any doubts come in. We don't go near that energy anyway so we're safe.

But you two are close as blood, man, literally, how the heck do they not-- wrongly define that?

They do. Afterwards they do. And that's where the hate comes in.

Ah. …That is really freaking sad. Like, in a heartbreaking way, I mean.

I know. And I do love him, but there's that wall of shame.

Why shame?

Because I… I want to love him, I want to show that, but not in the way they think I am. Not in that way.

Not sexually.

No. But close. Too close. I mean the spiritual stuff. That sort of bonding. I want nothing physical, not like that, no way.

I know. They don't?

They see no other option. They're so scared they're afraid to risk another option.

…Kid, center, this is getting way too blurry.

Sorry.

…So. Let's look at that hate because I want that out of there.

So do I.

…

…It's not towards him.

It's not?

No, let me look… no, it's hate because I love him, therefore we're in a relationship, therefore I must act a certain way.

Ah. Cannon/Spinny thoughts.

Yeah. Hatred because "I don't want to play a role" and--

No one is asking you to play a role, kid, especially not him.

It's an old program though. All of it is. That's really all I have to keep in mind.

Stop acting is all, huh?

Yeah. Just see that instinct when it comes up, and drop it. Center, like you said. I can't help but feel that the more this T kicks in, the easier that will get… less residue.

I hope so, kid, because this is one heck of a roller coaster ride so far.

Yeah. Existentially jarring. Weird, too. Because suddenly I'm reflecting on the outside and I'm not yet sure how to reconcile that with the mess the girls made. All the self-hatred, all the abusive habits, all the annihilatory actions… the body is programmed specifically to destroy itself right now, and I don't want that happening anymore. At all. The T is forcing that into perspective. But it's the last legs of the war, now, and all the bombs are dropping first.

Geez. That bad?

You've seen it.

…Today, huh.

Yeah. Laurie I am so sorry--

Kid, don't. Stop. Talk to me, calm down, stop typing. Talk to me.

…

I forgive you, okay? That was some tough stuff you were going through.

Maybe. I don't remember it.

You don't remember it? Heh, geez.

No, it wasn't me. But I know what happened.

And what happened?

…I tried to kill myself. Someone did.

Right in front of me.

…Yeah.

You had a razor at your throat, kid. They tried. And they didn't care at first whether I cared or not.

I know. That hurts so much.

But they did stop, Jay, eventually. Didn't say a damn thing to me, but at least they listened. At least they put the blade down, and didn't spill too much blood. No hospital trips, thank God.

Thank you, so much.

For what, saving your life? Least I could do kid, after everything else, and this, ironically.

That's the point. That scar. Didn't that hurt?

Well yeah it hurt, I was in tears. "Don't you dare go out in the same way I almost did once." Don't you dare die on me, not again. I can't handle that. And they called it emotional manipulation.

…It's not though, is it?

Heck no, kid, I love you, I don't want to see you dead! I want to see that hope you keep talking about lighting up your eyes, and you trying the road again tomorrow. Not lying bloody in the middle of it.

…

Kid, I know you're sorry, even if they're not. As long as you're still alive, it's fine.

I love you, Laurie.

…I know.

You're safe.

…Why the blood isn't anyone else safe.

It's… fear of intimacy? It's old stuff. They are safe, in my heart they're safe, but…

But the System labels them as threats. I know. There's-- well, not the System, but certain members of it. Visceral stuff. "They're threats because they love you, and that's what all those other people said."

Not really. Julie didn't. It's like I said, it's more of, "they love you, and therefore they MUST do that to you because they have no other option."

Ah-- wait, what? No other option? Seriously? Even with backup?

Blinders.

Geez. Take those bloody things off.

There's fear there, too. Fear that if there is another option, they will justify abusive behavior with it.

Kid, that's not what finding other options means!! Abuse is abuse, and if someone hurts you, I don't care what they claim they're doing, they stop that sin right that instant and you get your ass outta there, either or. Don't let them touch you or anyone else if you don't want to. EVER. I don't care what religious moral code they're preaching. If some religious nut tells you you "HAVE to have sex" or else suffer eternal damnation or loss of heaven or whatever the heck-- what is it?

It's fear that sex is mandatory on a spiritual level, or else you're rejecting God.

That's freaking ridiculous. Plants don't have sex, they have a totally different system going, THAT is proof that there's not only one way AND it can exist TOTALLY without abuse. Okay?

…I knew I liked plants for some reason.

No kidding, Infi told me about that, ironically enough. But yeah, you don't let anyone touch you without your permission, explicit and CONSCIOUS permission, mind you. No bloody terrified programs, or survival lies, or garbage like that. Get Wreckage out if you have to, let Algorith punch 'em a good one in the face if you have to. Just… respect yourself. Respect your self. You don't have to do any of that stuff, with ANYBODY, and you sure as heaven on earth do not EVER "have" to have sex with the people you love, BECAUSE you love them. That is utter demonic nonsense and it makes me furious, and Chaos knows it and Genesis knows it and Infinitii knows it too, but ze also knows the crap your subconscious holds to the contrary so be careful there. Sorry. Infi won't hurt you but ze will absolutely confront you with that by hir very nature.

I know that, yeah. Which makes it scary.

But Infi will not, and I repeat, not ever harm you. I know that for a fact, it's been proven in hir function. Infi cannot freaking harm you, ever. But ze can slip, just like you. Ze can slip, and ze can be hacked, and THAT is the scary thing you need to watch out for. Okay? The lies.

Isn't it funny how we have this conversation like fifty times a month?

If by 'funny' you mean 'heartbreaking,' yeah.

At least we're not giving up.

Yeah, that too.

…Give me a second, let me look at that wall again… and no, now it's the self-hatred, the stuff Jessica holds. The "I'm too filthy to ever love anyone" feeling. The conviction that she is utterly incapable of love because she is ugly, or fat, or filthy, or corrupted, et cetera.

Is that societal messages?

Partly, part is trauma residue, I would think.

(ended abruptly)

Entry tags:

fearheal1

- fear/anger towards mother and mel.

let's find the roots of this and heal it

why are you angry at mel
I don’t know
find one thing.
I think they are mocking me. they smile and I am ashamed and I hate them.
why do you hate them? why are they mocking you?
I don’t really hate them, I hate that I feel they are so much better than me and would never let me share in that? if that makes sense. like they had so much power and strength and I wanted to be the same, I want to be the same way, but I felt they were forbidding me?
how was they forbidding you?
by always running to me for only the negative. looking for support, showing me all this weakness. and I couldn’t balance that with their drive, their determination, their ambition.
they were looking to you for support. they trusted you.
I know, they still do. I don’t know why there’s so much bitterness towards them
is it because of what they said when you left utah? when they said you "spat in their face," and did not care about them? even though you wore yourself down?
maybe. I think the only reason I havent let go of that is because I believed it. and it became a self-fulfilling prophecy I think and that is terrifying.
then let me say this. you did not spit in their face. you felt unworthy of their presence, and so you rejected their help, because you wanted to be as strong as they were and felt their help was forbidding you from reaching it.
yes. I felt they saw me as less. as flawed.
they did not. they do not.
I see myself as flawed compared to them. and there is still bitterness because I feel I have to become them. I project that. I interpret every little thing they do as being intended for me to see. "look, look what I am doing and saying, why aren't you doing the same?" they went to a comic convention and it felt like a stab in the back. "look at what I am able to do! why aren't you doing this?" nevermind that I don’t even want to, I don’t like comic conventions. but it’s the FREEDOM, the SUCCESS, the INDEPENDENCE. I want to personify those things too, in a way good for me. and the guilt of feeling stuck is making me bitter towards them, as they are a beacon on all my flaws.
so you do not hate them, you hate the self-loathing you project onto them. in them, you see an unreachable ideal that you want to reach terribly, and are told you are too weak.
yeah. I need to forgive them. and myself. they did nothing wrong. I guess I just feel they are draining me. when they talk to me it feels manipulative? like why cant we talk about positive things, not drama and negativity. but we never really had anything in common. and there's a lot of bitterness too. "I need you! I need you!" making me feel sworn to them for years. and then they left without a word, turned back to them dozens of other friends, to their job, to their education. they never needed me, but I drained myself dry for them. and still they insist they needs me, and I am not getting anything from this. is that selfish?
to want something from this?
yes. I want to feel like they are a positive person in my life too. but they doesn't feel like it? and I cant tell if that's my fault or not. like they have nothing to offer me that I need, EXCEPT that they know and cares for the system… I think.
so you only talk to them because they know your inner life.
yes. but they does not speak of it like e^5 does. for mel it's not important. and that's fine. but I love the system more than I love myself. and mel doesn’t focus on them when we talk? I guess that’s why I'm sad. I listen to mel and try to help them, but I get nothing in return. I don’t want to be bitter or demanding. but this is draining me.
what would you have to receive in return, to feel fulfilled in this relationship?
real love. trust. a feeling that they cares about us as more than just an ear to talk into. they feel so terribly distant all the time. but that's probably my fault too.
do you feel any need to reach out to them?
no. we have little in common. it is hard to relate to them. is that wrong?
why would it be wrong?
because I feel like I have to be with them. and that makes me bitter. they were a friend once, but I don’t remember that, I don’t remember them. oh. maybe that’s it. I don’t know who they are, there is no connection between us, and our conversations are so robotic. so flat. there’s no genuine outpouring or openness in them. I would love to give that first but they offer nothing anymore. they say nothing about their people. they do not write poetry anymore. it's just jobs, and video games, and fandoms. I don’t know how to connect to them as a person. if I did I would likely not feel this bitter.
you feel betrayed.
yes. no. yes. I feel like they expect a friendship and yet never offer their hand. or they do, but then everything must be by their rules. I don’t know. it makes me sick to my stomach. I am trying to think positively of them but I don’t know them, I don’t remember them, what do I do?
think about them with forgiveness. for now that is all you can do. rinse out the bitter scars with forgiveness. even if you don’t know them. practice seeing them as a child of the universe, practice seeing them as a child of god, just like everyone else.
something is trying to stop me from doing that.
why? why would they be separate?
because… because I am projecting onto them. I am seeing them not as a person, but as an extension of my bitter past. of my cruel psyche. whoever was out in 2012, whoever stayed with them, feels stuck to them. whatever they said after we left, when they defined us as someone horrible to be around, as a poison to their health, it stuck. part of us cannot forgive itself for that. because it believes it.
what would it take for you to let go of that, and believe you are better?
…I don’t know. the past cannot be changed. if I was so cruel, so toxic, how can I change that? can I?
lets say you cannot. say the past is as it is. can you move on? can you forgive who you were?
its hard to forgive when I assume it was intentional. I cannot remember. if I was so malevolent a person, forgiveness feels like a wave of the hand. 'it's fine!' and it is not fine. to have treated them so wrongly is not fine.
will hating your past self change it?
no. sadly it wont. I keep thinking that if I crush it with enough guilt and shame for its actions, for its disgusting hedonism and selfish cruelty, it will crumble under the weight and die. and then whoever that person was will be no more.
then what? would you be able to talk to mel?
…only if they did not see me as that person still.
is that what you think?
yes. that may be the problem. in talking to them I have nothing to go on BUT that 2012 timeframe. and so I feel that I MUST be whoever we were back then. do you see?
you do not have to be anyone. be yourself.
how? if they do not know me, nor I them.
be yourself. get to know them then. start over.
do I forget the past then?
what do you remember? is there anything to go on?
very little. it's more obligatory than anything.
tell me what you remember of them.
they like the color yellow. they listen to empire of the sun and pentatonix. they like howl from the ghibli movie, and cillian murphy, especially his blue eyes. they keep tons of journals. there's the bitterness again, the feeling that "you should have been like them!! they are so much better than you!!" and the self-hatred pushed outwards, because I feel them associating with me is a forceful order from god or something TO imitate them.
so you cannot talk to them without trying to become them.
without tailoring myself to them exactly, yes.
that is not safe or wise behavior.
how do I be myself with them then? its too selfish. I cannot be myself and talk to anotthem person because my focus is entirely on my own progress and inner life. in order to talk to someone else, I MUST bleed out dry and take on their lives instead. I MUST empathize with them totally or I cannot focus on them at all.
so it is all or nothing for you?
yes. where do I draw the line?
I do not know.
oddly it’s the same when they take inspiration from me. which is weird. like when they used to keep journals, or now on tumblr. when they share my actions or interests, my gut reaction is "they are forcing my life to imitate theirs now. they are slowly taking these aspects onto themself and making them entirely theirs, until I will have no choice but to become them." why is this how I think?
why do you feel you have to become them? or that they cannot share your interests without that occurring? is it simply the self =/= others paradox you have?
probably. it’s like, "well if they like this now, I cannot, because then I will be taking it from them." and it feels like they are swallowing my life. which makes no sense at all. again, it's projected. it's self-loathing and they are, sadly, innocently, the mirror. but… mel is so fearless!!! they talk without being ashamed!! they present their opinions, their thoughts on things, and don’t censor or shame themself. but my brain intereprets that as "attention seeking," "drama maker," "demanding attention," et cetera. absolute narcissism. if I were to state my opinion the same way, I would get glared at, looked at disgustedly, "what's wrong with you?" "how dare you speak up." and it is so sorry, I am sorry.
this is childhood programming.
it is.
and you still believe it. why?
there are so few examples to the contrary, and so much emphasis on that self-condemnation.
give positive examples to yourself. can you? or do you entirely believe that speaking your mind is "emotionally manipulative?"
it doesn't have to be, but it's hard to tell if my motives are or not, because i give everyone else the benefit of the doubt and automatically assume i am "less," that my behavior is ALREADY wrong.
that is false. give yourself more freedom. forgive yourself. mistakes are not a death knell.
they were. they are. to this day, when i mess up, i am told "we will kill you for this." there is no third strike. this is russian roulette. you pick the wrong path, then you're gone. that's it.
life is not like that. you must accept this. it is not one shot and then you're done. nothing grows that way.
in my heart i know that. but, again, childhood programming. hellfire and black marks and all that.
i know. so let us return to your thoughts on mel. how they are fearless in your eyes.
they are. they speak their mind, and pursue their wants and dreams, and promote their work, utterly without fear. i couldn't do that without feeling like i was forcing it down everyone else's throat. "look at me! look at me!!" demanding and cruel and hateful. they aren't like that, but i only know that option from past experience. so i get confused. i project that onto them.
then you must learn a different option. what is the first step we can take?
well i'm posting more of my art online. i'm not asking for recognition, i'm just passively sharing.
does that feel like forcing it on others to you?
yes. just posting it feels like forcing it on others.
so, in that train of thought, the only "non-selfish" thing would be to keep it to yourself?
paradoxically. that's the stupid irony, because NOT sharing would be the REAL selfish choice.
then remember that.
i will have to. i just don't want to force anyone to do anything.
are you? are you demanding it?
i think subconsciously? i love my work, i have so much love and joy for this life, i just want others to feel that too. and, as a child i did not get that from my peers or family. i always only wanted to share, and it was never really felt. i just got the "smile and nod" response, mostly. the few times there was genuine interest-- like that one night my mum got so interested in dream world they was asking about elevolt, all on them own, i will never forget that-- those few times stand out like a sign from god. i treasure that. and maybe it is selfish, but i want that in my life. actively. constantly. it brings me pure joy, to share in that love. to SHARE in it. it is a group effort. i would not force anyone to love this. but if they do, then god willing, let us magnify it together. let's celebrate this.
that is not selfish.
i just think i'm forcing it. like i'm trying too hard. but that's likely due to a lack of self-credit again. a lack of contentment with myself.
why?
uh... because i'm just one person, maybe? because "happiness is only real when shared." it's a restlessness.
does this tie into mel?
yes. yes it does. and it's so hypocritical. i WANT to celebrate their stories and inner life with them, BUT they doesn't share much of it? yet? maybe they doesn't want to. maybe i can't relate to it as strongly as i want to. and that scares me. what if ultimately i cannot be the person they need me to be?
do they truly "need you to be" anything?
i thought they said so. maybe i'm trying too hard. again, maybe i feel i have no other choice.
how much of your relationship with them is obligation?
most of it.
what if you did need to move on? what if they asked you to? would you be crushed under the guilt like you were in 2013?
i hope not.
why do you feel obligated to be their slave, even if they were to tell you strictly otherwise?
because... i don't know. that power dynamic is older than i am. whoever met them first, in 2009 or whenever, that was the basis for our relationship. we were under their control. we had to be them. oh shoot do you think that was because of q?
what?
we were so terrified of losing his friendship. our only lasting friendship, the only one that had roots-- he knew about genesis, about chaos, about the jewel monsters. he knew about the things dear to our heart. we didn't know him, hell we had almost nothing in common, but we cared about him dearly from a distance nevertheless. we called him a friend. BUT we had no precedence for mel appearing in this. we thought, "now he has them, he does not need us anymore, it's over." all or nothing. that is the only recorded feeling for that time period. "i can't lose my only friend. i will do anything. i will become anything. just let us keep our friendship." i have no idea what resulted from it... but maybe that was the "idolizing" thing with mel. i'm getting confused. sorry.
you feel that you view them, on the rawest level, as "someone to become." "someone to imitate exactly."
maybe? subconsciously. like i said. but the bitterness is because of that probably. thinking that i cannot be my own person as long as they are around. i MUST be everything they needs. and the angriest part is that i WANT to be, i WANT to be everything for them, I HAVE to be... but why?? it's "wanting" in a "i have no choice" sense. i care about them, but..... i have never felt close to them. i don't know who they are. they talk like we're the closest friends on earth sometimes, and it confuses me, because there's this huge distance between us. they have so many other friends. we have no history together. why do i feel obligated to sacrifice my life for them?
you don't have to.
they say they need me. they need my support. i want to give it, entirely, that is true. but i am so angry, so confused, because... why?
is it because part of you misses the days when they, too, knew what was dear to your heart?
that's selfish.
is it?
yes. it's selfish as hell to want to talk about headspace and dream world for hours. so selfish. the only time it would not be selfish would be if they adored it, like i do, and wanted to talk about it. they doesn't. it's fake that way. forced. obligatory. and then it is empty and wrong and irreverent.
what if they did love it? what then?
then i would let THEM talk. that would be wonderful. i would love to listen. even if they just talked about their people.
you want more than just them asking for a shoulder to cry on, then.
no, even THAT would be better than this. i'm just listening to hurts and troubles i cannot do anything about. i feel powerless and frustrated. what can i do or say? and it feels so distant. maybe if it wasn't online. maybe if we were in the same room, maybe they'd let their walls down, maybe i wouldn't have to say anything in response and they'd still know i cared. i'm just not getting that right now. it feels shallow. i'm angry because i don't want shallowness. maybe i'm being a hypocrite. i don't know.
i will ask again: do you want to rebuild a friendship with them?
only if it is not one-sided. only if it has depth and sincerity. only if it's not so focused on the negative all the time. i cannot do this now, where i am just a therapist, not a friend. it feels too much like my mom. "this is why my life sucks. i am so depressed. you're such a good listener, i don't know where i'd be without you." and that's fine if it helps, really i'm glad, but... i get so tired being nothing but a listener. it's depersonalizing, if that makes sense?
it does. there is no real output from you.
i don't even want output, i want to feel like a person in relation to them. if they were talking about joy, about something that lit them up, then i'd feel real too. they'd be trusting me enough to share that. now, it's just like yelling at a wall. i don't know. i'm tired, i'm sorry. i don't hate them, i'm sorry for saying that at first. i hate the way i feel around them currently. it's not fair to them, they doesn't deserve that. but it's all internal stuff being brought out by them, things that need to be healed, and i thank them for that even if they doesn't know.
would you like to continue talking about this?
no, not now, i need to let this be and unplug my head from it. think positive thoughts, higthem vibration things. thoughts that don't make me feel nauseous and sick like this. i will instead "be the change i want to see." be who i want to be. if i am happy with myself, truly so, and respect myself, these problems will fall away on their own in due time. this is another mirror. if my reflection isn't presentable, then i must polish myself.
then do so.

Entry tags:

july 16th

I'm used to the "correct, polite" response being "ignore your troubles, paint on a smile, and man the heck up" but honestly, that is an incredibly unhealthy mindset no matter what my family says.
I may feel filthy and ashamed for talking about this, but I need to. I need to express this, if only to get it out.

Phone call this morning, from the mother. She tells me that insurance is refusing to cover my therapy bills, and that I can't go anymore. She proceeds to sob to my grandfather how I'm burning through all her money, that I "won't get better" et cetera. Now the grandfather is angry at me, for "wasting my mother's money."
Nevermind that they both demanded I go to therapy twice weekly, and not to quit, because they both also insist that "I'm not making any progress" simply because I can't be "normal and healthy" like my brothers. I'm really sorry. I don't like being like this either. And I'm sorry you can't see any progress. Maybe the progress I've been thinking we've made isn't real progress. In any case I don't want to take your money anymore. I'm sick of being a thief. I'm sick of making my family members cry. I'm sick of being the cause of every fight and breakdown in this household, like I've been since my childhood. I really don't want to be that person. So I'll stop. I'll stop being such a burden. Somehow.
I'll stop it all, right now. I can stop. I'm sure we can stop. We got through college without therapy, for heaven's sakes, I'm sure we can do this. Laurie will get her wish, we'll have to go back to having at least one Xanga a week, no matter how psychologically tiring they are. Progress needs to be made somewhere.

I keep having sexually abusive dreams, to be blunt. They're horribly painful and I never feel rested when I wake up. I feel used-up and wrong and scraped-out.
I am so freaking sick of all these "spiritual people" telling me straight-up that I need to have sex in order to heal, in order to fully integrate positive energy, etc. I am so wretchedly sorry that I can't. I'm scared, it hurts, I don't want it. I don't hate it anymore, let anyone else do whatever they want, but please, for the love of the God you and I are both trying to reconnect with, don't tell me it's my only option. It can't be. I hope to heaven that it can't be.

The family money problems are making it worse. I'm trying not to panic, but the pressure keeps rising on all sides and desperation is starting to creep in. Yes, I trust the universe, but... it's scary. I can't deny that.
I really don't have much left to sell. The manga from Spinny's teenage years is still here, I'll try to sell that. But that's it. I keep trying to draw, for the sake of commissions, but everything comes out looking like a 5-year-old scribbled it and although that's fine for me, I can't exactly make money from it. I don't think so. I'm not sure. I'll try.
...But the biggest frustration is the label everyone else puts on my worth, as a human being. Do you know what I've been hearing, almost constantly, since elementary school? "Oh, it's too bad you're sick... you're so pretty!" All the time. My "prettiness" dictates my value, apparently, just as strongly as it negates all my troubles. It seems that, if you're pretty enough, people will gloss over everything not pretty about you.
I dont' want to think about this. I'm tired of people telling me that the only thing "sellable" about me is my looks. Basically, go sell yourself; there's an audience! There's a market!
And I've been considering it. God help me but I have been actively considering it for MONTHS because I can't stand seeing my family suffer, and I'm not sure what else to do for income. But I'm terrified. I keep telling myself, "you put up with it for years the way it is, didn't you?" But I don't remember those years. And the very thought of reliving it makes me shake, and sob, and want to die. Then I go online, and someone is talking about "sacred sex," and I swear I do not want ANYONE but Infi talking to me about that subject, and I don't want hir touching me either.
I skipped my trans* support group last week. I did. I felt horrible, but I skipped it. Last time, there was one too many lewd references, and although I know it was meant as a "joke" I really don't want to expose myself to that. I felt unsafe. I feel stupid and wrong just admitting that. Why the heck would I feel "unsafe?" I don't know, maybe because my subconscious likes to store that shit and it puts down really ugly roots after so many repetitions.
And yet I can't run. It's everywhere. It's on every website, it's in every crowd. I want to cry, what do I have to do to heal this, so I won't be so incapacitatingly terrified?
You know what I'm scared of? I'm scared of people using me for that purpose. I know exactly what "sacred sexuality" is and it has NOTHING to do with "sex," at least not in my book. I'll work with sensuality until the end of time and I will enjoy every moment of it, but the second you try and touch me under the pretense that it's "holy," I swear I'm going to let Wreckage or Razor or Sugar out to deal with you instead. I'm sorry, but I can't.
I'm scared of how disrespected and disfigured sexuality is in today's world. Infi is furious at how irreverently and nonchalantly that topic is thrown about. I understand. I actually do, now that ze's around. But... I'm going in circles. I don't know how to protect myself from that without putting up walls again. Should I? Would that be wiser? I don't want to let that perversion into my mind, for the Tar and Plague to grow from again. But is that horrible resurgence only happening because I'm so scared? Because part of me is so terrified, it is trying to claw its way free, and tripling the pain? Is the struggle my real damnation here?
I want to let go, let go, of all of it. I'm trying. It just keeps following me. There's some sort of lesson I keep missing, even after all these years.
That's why I'm in therapy. I'm trying to talk about this. I'm trying to release all this pain, and hear responses that we couldn't think of on our own, because we don't have that perspective. I can't get that from my family or tiny social circle. No one wants to hear it. And yes, the progress is slow, because I am choking on shame and guilt and fear and self-loathing and crushing doubt, but we're moving, bit by bit. No one else can see that. I'm so sorry.
But I can't go anymore, regardless. I need to find another way of healing. I need to be brave. I need to do this on my own, on our own again.

I realized yesterday, when talking to Genesis and CZ, that I keep dissociating when in public because of how I feel I HAVE to respond in order to stay "safe"? I never noticed it to this extent before, but Genesis kept calling me out on it, and then it clicked. My instinct is to smile at people, to immediately start interacting with even total strangers on a level of close friendship. I automatically and instantly trust people, and I expect them to respond to me in kind, with that sort of sincerity and openness and active recognition of my status as a blessedly living thing. We're all God's creatures, you know. But then I smile at someone, expecting a genuine smile back-- the kind that is meant, and not just parroted-- and all I get is a blank stare, or a judging look, or complete ignorance. Even though I know they're probably acting that way out of fear or "social norms" or distraction, of course they aren't doing it with malice... still, it's a brick wall instead of a handshake, or even better, an embrace. And then the dissociation kicks in, my own smile turns to paper, and I'm not sure what I'm supposed to do next. I'm learning, but that snap-back isn't easy.
Nevertheless, that's obviously why I'm terrified of this sexuality thing. Like I said, I don't touch the physical aspect of it, and don't want to. But I have no problem with intimacy, with the "sensual" aspect of it, with that sort of complete open-hearted trust and vulnerability. I love that, it's arguably what I live for. Except a lot of people don't even realize it exists in a non-sexual context, and for a similar lot of people, a "sexual context" goes hand-in-hand with vulgarity, or flippancy, or objectification, or... well. Worse things.
So I know there's a risk. And I don't know if I even should present myself as-is, with that in mind, because I don't want to be taken advantage of again. Where is the line, between prudence and fear? How much of myself do I have to hide in order to stay safe, to be wise? I don't want to. I shouldn't have to. That sort of conscious obfuscation goes against my very nature. But I don't know.
I want to talk to someone about this, besides my therapist. Maybe we really do just need to start talking inside more... but again, that's almost unnecessary. I DON'T have to hide, in the inner realms... at least... wait, that's a good topic to segue into. It's the most painful one I have and God knows I want this settled, without any bitterness or regret.

This quote just showed up on my Tumblr dashboard and I think it summarizes the problem well:
"We assume others show love the same way we do — and if they don’t, we worry it’s not there."
I told my therapist yesterday, that my brain struggles with the very concept of "relationships" because of how that term was defined in my past.
If someone "loved" me, they were either using me for lustful and malicious ends like Julie... OR they were using me as a codependent attachment, like my family.
Furthermore, I was always told that if someone "liked" you, it meant they wanted a romantic relationship with you. I was told that I couldn't have "just friends" because that meant I was "blind" or "lying" or otherwise unaware of the "truth."
All my "friends" who were younger than me, would use me. They'd steal and break my possessions, they'd order me around, they'd physically attack me. All because they "wanted attention" or wanted me to DO something for them. All my friends of the same age were either romantically interested in me, or too close to that for comfort.
I don't want to talk about this. It makes me ill and sick to my stomach.
The point is... I'm still learning that I CAN have friends who don't want to date me, or have sex with me. I'm still learning that I CAN have friends who aren't just my 'friends' because they want something from me, or worse, because they want me to dedicate my life TO them. I'm so used to that.
Genesis and CZ can act like that a lot. They both have emotional issues dealing with self-worth that cause them to look to me for validation, or something. Genesis will want me to act a certain way, and when I can't, he gets angry. Same with CZ, but he gets sad more. The problem is, it's "I want you to respond to me in a certain way because that would make me feel loved." THAT'S the context they recognize love in, personally. But I can't always speak that language, so to speak. I can't be romantic. I've tried, and it sabotaged me, you all know.
My problem is that I feel no need to be in a relationship at ALL, not in that way. I don't like attachments, I don't like having that label to live up to. I don't like knowing someone has feelings for me that I can't reciprocate in that way, or receive in the sincere way they deserve.
So yes I love them. It's just non-romantic, and it doesn't need reciprocation. I've given that a lot of thought and it's true. Yes, it's nice to know someone loves you, because then there's a mutual compassion between the two of you, and that's beautiful. But when someone is in love with you, it gets weird. When someone only shows their love in THAT context, I get acutely uncomfortable, I get bitter, I get angry and sad because I can't understand that sort of love and I am so sorry that I can't. I can't even tell the difference anymore, in other people, because my brain flat-out can't comprehend one of them. How can you know the "difference" when you see only one side?? So I jump to conclusions everywhere, to their benefit of the doubt, according to the only option I've been given, according to what I can't see but have been told is always there. "They're in love with me." And most of the time they are. And it's beautiful, that they feel that way, but I can't... I just can't understand it, not like that. I can't give it back to them either. I feel like I have to, but I can't.
That's the problem. That's what I've been denying since 2011 or earlier, with those two. No matter how heartbroken it makes me feel, I cannot give them the sort of relationship my "past selves" may have been able to give them, but that doesn't diminish the amount of love I have for them. I'm not Eros, I'm not Spinny, I'm not Jewel. I can't be romantic, I can't do the whole "boyfriend" or "husband" thing. And yes I love Xenophon, but I just don't think I can be the "father" she deserves. That breaks my heart more than anything, but she deserves so much more than a confused man trying to fit the label and failing. Bottom line, I need to stop forcing myself to perform according to what's "expected" of me. They don't realize I'm doing that-- no one ever does, upstairs or downstairs, because I know exactly what people want from me-- and when I admit it they're hurt, they're confused, "you mean it was all an act?" No, it was just a mistranslation. It was me forcing my honest affection into a format you were comfortable with, because I love you, but not in that context. Unfortunately that context was what you wanted, sincerely, but the problem was that you wanted it from me and I cannot give that to you. Find someone else, please. You deserve to be happy. So do I. This isn't working.
I adore these people, I really do, but I've said it a thousand times and I'll say it again-- I cannot handle close relationships. They wear me out.
"You have to love so that the one you love feels free." And both parties deserve to be free. I keep excluding myself from that. I feel so selfish every time I say "I can't do this, this feels wrong somehow," and then the awful cycle starts again, with me forcing myself to act against my best interests "for their sake." It's all because I'm still convinced that "they love you, so you HAVE to do everything they say." Honestly, that's getting really close to emotional manipulation whether either party realizes it or not. I just... how can you tell if a relationship is toxic or not, if you really do love the other person, and they really do love you? If it's genuine, but it still doesn't feel right, and it's still exhausting... how can you tell if it's something you should let go of? I don't know whether I want to stay or leave anymore. I feel stuck, obligated to continue what those before me started, to the letter. I'm just afraid because my brain says "leaving means you don't love them," and that's not true. Leaving the relationship means I'm now free to love them WITHOUT the jail cell of partnership expectations around me. I hope. Geez I have such a bad track record of unintentionally harmful relationships, this is such a tangled mess. Friends, family, partners, coworkers, etc. Everyone always using me as the "go-to guy" for whatever they needed, emotionally or however. I had to be able to give, give, give, no questions asked, "because I love you," "don't you love me," etc. and the problem was... they could give that back if I needed it, but I didn't. What I needed was something they couldn't give, just as I couldn't honestly give what they needed either. It's always been like that. It's so frustrating. I've always been "broken," always been "a freak," always been explained away as a "medical malfunction." They say "you're SUPPOSED to want sex, and romance, and relationships." Otherwise, something is "wrong" with me, in a fundamentally massive way. They defined "humanity" as "the ability to feel romantic love," and when I couldn't, suddenly I became less. I became a robot, an unfeeling thing that they could not trust or get close to. I am fully capable of love and compassion, just not in the way you're expecting me to. But even I doubt my validity now, and it's sick. It's sick.
I'm so, so, so tired. I want to live without having to constantly gauge my actions depending on "how they will affect those people." Can't go here, say this, do that, etc. because no, all your time HAS to go towards this relationship. Honestly? I don't need it. I never did.
I have enough self-love to last me a lifetime. All I want or need is an audience for my work. I don't necessarily want "friends," I want to give my creativity to these people and watch their eyes light up over it, watch them take it and let it grow. I don't want to be some personal point of focus. I want to be a wellspring. That's all.
Sorry for rambling over this again, I'm just exhausted and I don't know where to go from here.
That's a toxic paragraph, is what it is. Can I just leave it there, and not re-read it or anything? I need a break. I need a break from ALL this relationship stuff for a while. That's why I've been avoiding headspace, truth be told. What do I do?

David was triggered last night, by something, some sound the grandmother made maybe. Jeremiah jumped up and was standing with his arms out, like he was ready to stand between hell itself and that little boy if need be. I spoke to him for a bit, I remember noticing that he and the two children still lived 'below the ground,' halfway between the Underground and the 'Midspace' level, the ground level. They slept in a small space, where Jeremiah said nothing could reach them unless it went through him. It made me sad to see them still living so afraid, he said it made him sad too, they didn't want to be this way. I said they didn't have to. He said maybe not, but as long as there was a threat to those children, it was hard to act fearless. I said I understood, wondered how I could help them feel safer then.
David was pretending to be asleep, he figured he'd be safer that way. I asked him if I could help him feel safer right then. I forget what the immediate response was, but I ultimately created another security blanket for him-- a fluffy blue one with snowflakes on it. I was 70% asleep at the time so I forget what I said exactly, but the blanket had a special power. If he held it up between himself and an attacker, it would "send snow to their heart," not to freeze them, but to surprise them and stop them in their tracks, surprised by the sudden tiny feeling of ingenuous cold. Like snowflakes, tiny and innocent. And it would make them reconsider, and leave him alone. I also said that if the need ever arose, David could "call me" through that same snowflake blanket, as I was tied to snow. I remember Jeremiah was smiling at all this, I felt bad that I hadn't been doing more prior.
Javier showed up for like 30 seconds at one point too? Before we went down to the kids. He too was mostly asleep, it was adorable. He reassured Jeremiah and then went back to sleep, sorry I can't remember dialogue. I do remember finding it amusing that he slept with a face full of piercings, of course he has no other option but it was funny to see.

I'm trying to get a job. The therapist has been discussing that with us for a while. Our biggest concern is still, "what kind of job can you hold that isn't going to cause psychological overload, and/or a relapse?"
I've tried to hold several jobs over the years. Some lasted longer than others. And yeah, maybe I could bite the bullet and continue in a high-stress job, but considering that I'm already contemplating suicide just to take the burden off my family, I think adding a soul-sucking job to the mix would be a bad idea.
I hate admitting my failures, my weaknesses, my flaws. Which is surprising, as I am aware of them; I seek the shadowy things out because I want to get better. But actually admitting them outright? It's like shining a spotlight on all the reasons why my family has to suffer, on all the reasons why I hurt other people, on all the things standing between me and the "good people" of the world. I'm so scared to, because I'm afraid of looking in the mirror and realizing just how ugly I really am. But I need to man up. I need to just... look. I need to admit that I'm a mess, before I can start trying to fix that.
I can't deal with sensory overload. Either I break down or shut down, when it gets too much. I try not to, but it's involuntary. Too much sensory input, either sound or light or touch, and there's either going to be an explosion of stress, or I'm going to dissociate entirely. I need a job that isn't going to be deafeningly loud, that isn't going to involve people shouting at me or trying to talk to me every five seconds, and that isn't going to batter me with tactile input (I know some people touch you to be friendly but that is still hard for me to deal with in automated situations so please forgive me).
Fast-paced jobs are the same, because my brain needs a lot of time to process data. Even with my own work, I might have to re-read something five times before it registers. And it might take me hours to do one simple task. It's hell sometimes, because it's horribly frustrating to feel so inadequate and slow, but otherwise nothing gets done at all. So I also need a job that isn't going to force me to work so quickly that I can't comprehend where I even am, let alone what I'm supposed to be doing.
I remember cleaning the photo labs at the university... or at least, I remember the data for it (there's no 1st person data at all, but the vibe is solid). Three hours, in dark quiet solitude, just cleaning the equipment. I remember the smell of the stuff, I remember the color of that tiny orangish light. But I could do that for hours and never get tired, or overwhelmed, and people praised me for what a good job I did. It worked out well for everyone! My performance wasn't suffering, and so I could GIVE more to people.
I don't mind "manual labor." I PREFER it. I love working with my hands, doing things like sorting or building or cleaning. It's like stimming, in a way. Sensory input-- especially tactile-- demands my total attention or it doesn't register, so when I work with my hands it's almost fascinatingly grounding. But the catch is that I can only deal with one sort of data at once. If I'm trying to listen to something, I can't touch anything, or I won't hear. If I'm working with my hands, I can't be listening to anything, or I'll lose any clear sensation of touch. Sight is weird, as it takes effort to concentrate that along with other senses, but I can do it-- as long as I don't have to talk! You get the idea.
I like moving around too, I like standing and walking. Sitting down makes me depressed and sick. Even at home I have to stand to use my computer.
So there's a list of things I'd like in a job. Am I being a "special snowflake," am I being demanding and prissy and selfish? Maybe. But I also know that if I sacrifice my mental health for the sake of a paycheck, NO ONE is going to benefit from it. If I'm going to be working for someone, I want to be able to work to the best of my ability, I want to be able to exceed expectations without burning myself out. I am a hard worker, I am a dedicated worker, and I will go the extra mile whenever possible, as long as I am not making myself sick in the process. That's all I ask for. Please allow me to have a healthy work environment, and I will make it worth your while.
I DO want to work. I'm not lazy, I'm not selfish, I'm not a waste of space. I keep hearing that but I know I'm not, I don't want to be. I just need... I would like to have a job that makes me feel like I'm really helping, like I'm really contributing, and that requires that I'm not emptying out my mental reserves just to get through each shift. That's all I'm asking. I hope that's not too much to ask.
I'll keep looking. I'll put out the effort and intention, and trust in the universe to deliver. That's really all I can do here. It knows better than I do, with the bigger picture.
That's making me feel more hopeful. I'm glad.
I'm not going to dwell on this anymore, not now. I'm going to continue with my therapy homework-- emotion logs and job hunting, fun stuff actually-- and try to take it easy for today. I have $150 of emergency money right now, thanks to a beautiful friend of mine donating it (seriously God bless you, you have been such a source of hope in my life whether you know it or not), so that's at least some stress of my back. Worst case scenario, it'll pay for some therapy, or the electric bill. But in any case it's a huge help.

However... I don't want to "work in order to pay the medical bills, which I got from trying to stay mentally stable enough to work in order to pay the medical bills..." ad infinitum. Life is so much more than that. Yes, my family insists to this day that "life is work and pain and then you die" but it's NOT, it can be so much more.
My problem is that I don't know how to tap into that. What brings me joy? I don't know. What do I enjoy doing? I don't know.
I'm so used to acting on obligation and expectation that it's hard to tell. I keep trying to force myself to get back into art, but that's the key word: force. I don't know why, but art holds no joy for me anymore. Seeing ideas appear on paper does, but that's always so detached from the process. I never remember drawing things, it's like they just appear in my workspace. I'll keep trying to draw though... I'm the only person who can get the ideas in my head onto paper, or so they say, because every time I buy a commission it turns out more accurate than I could do on my own. But that takes money!
It's ridiculous. If I had extra cash to spend, it would all go towards other people, at this point. I'd give it away left and right. I just... don't want anything anymore. I have no desire for possessions. Years ago I realized that the only reason I even bought clothing or collectibles was because I had no other way to say "I like this idea! I support your work and hope you create more." So I'd end up with tons of stuff I didn't want or need, because I didn't know how else to say "thank you for putting this bit of your imagination out into the world." Just for their own imagination's sake.
Of course, money always has to go towards daily needs... nevertheless, I could have all the money in the world, but it won't do me any good if I can't eat anything. That's exhausting problem #2! I get maybe 1000 calories a day, tops. The docs are starting to get worried because every time I come in, I'm lighter than I was previously. I wouldn't complain, except for the weakness and brain fog and low blood sugar. I don't like feeling so tired. But I don't like how sick I get from so many foods. No one knows why! I've had all these tests done, I've had bloodwork, I've had surgery, still the problems won't go away. Everyone's shrugging and saying "it's psychosomatic" now, and it probably is at this point... but where do I start?
I try to think symbolically. I've read enough spiritual stuff to have a good idea of how alternative medicine views certain troubles of this sort, although that can be even more of an obstacle sometimes (medical paranoia). And I know what internal problems I am still struggling with-- most of which currently involve independence, generosity, and fear of being taken advantage of again (esp. sexually)... all topics I've discussed today. I'm doing what I can. It's just scary, day by day, to never be sure.
Trust is big. Surrender is huge. Maybe I just need to meditate more, stop writing big jambles of text like this, it hurts my head.

I like being at peace. I like the quiet. I love being in this room, alone, or outside, in the sunlight and trees, alone. THAT'S what I miss about childhood, or at least from what we know of it. The youngest core was always playing outside, imaginatively, ALONE. There were no people ghosting with her, there were no voices shouting at her from the unknown, there were no headvoices talking and trying to front. It was pure, quiet, blissfully independent solitude. And I want that more than anything.
My biggest obstacle? After so many years have passed, part of me is scared to be alone, solely because of "the dark things that live in me." Honestly? Screw that. I'm not gonna let them touch me. I'm not even going to give them attention. If they rear their ugly heads, I'll look at them, see what they are, say "hm, I will deal with this problem then," and DEAL with it.
I need to stop thinking so hard. I'm fragmenting, the more I do this.
But I've... only ever been able to "deal with it" because of you guys, of everyone in headspace. Before them, the cores were stagnant, automated, unmotivated. It's only because of headspace that we've grown, together. Why the heck do I feel like they're holding me back? From what? Exactly what IS trapping me here? Is it just that feeling, that stupid conviction that I "must sacrifice all autonomy and individuality in order for the 70+ other people in this body to live through me?" Because that's what I'm doing. I'm "not allowed" to be uncomfortable with what they want, and I AGREE with that, because I'm being really freaking selfish in saying "no" every time someone else inside is trying to assert THEIR individuality. Who on earth gave the ego a monopoly on this body? Why the heck is it so difficult to live in cooperation here? I'm so tired, there's so many of us, I don't know how to live a physical life as a collective, I don't know. I want to just go inside and watch. That would be perfect. Jewel, THAT'S WHY YOU SURVIVED, you never had an identity either and you KNOW it. All you EVER did was "watch," that's what your Links WERE, that's why you have no memory of the body's past, you never knew how to handle it either! You're the one who wanted to "write a book and then die," that's STILL your motivation, you can't deny it, not when you are literally incapable of fronting in social situations. Don't you see? We're all we have, and the only reason I'm exhausted is because I've forgotten how to have this anymore.
I miss the heck out of you guys. I miss you so much. My heart is in excruciating pain every day from how alone I am, from how detached I feel from love and hope and progress, everything you are. But I've numbed out. I can't handle all that pain because to feel it in its entirety would kill me.
But part of me can't lie. Part of me still loves all of you, regardless of labels and fears and all that external bullshit, but that part of me only comes out late at night anymore, when the world is muffled and quiet and dark. When I close my eyes and forget everything else, you're always there, even when some part of me is furiously screaming that you're not, that you shouldn't be. That part of me wants to be alone forever. But that part of me doesn't know how to live beyond that instant gratification, beyond that concept of total freedom. It doesn't know how to be.
I'm scared to death of all the shadows we still have to sift through, but they are 1000% more terrifying when these spiritual articles are making me feel like I have to do it alone, like it's this damning obstacle and hard-as-hell challenge, something I may never succeed at, with the penalty of death. With all of you around instead... when I stop obsessing over religious perfection, and just go upstairs, somehow all those shadows cease to be morally humongous and I feel like maybe we're going to be okay.
So why the heck am I convinced that you're the stumbling block? Is it just because I'm sick of being sick? Is it just because my family keeps reminding me that I'm enough of a freakshow without the "voices in my head" that "need to go away" no questions asked? That's how I've been told to feel. I don't know if I have the luxury of saying no. But I want to. It's weird to want things, but some tiny powerful voice way down in my heart is saying it does want to be with you, all of you. It wants to stand in the face of all "common sense" and "normalcy" and "political correctness" and "moral rules." It wants to disregard ALL of that, no matter how terrified I am of the backlash from God I've been warned of, because there's a tiny tiny chance that maybe this love I secretly feel is the right thing. Maybe this weird, conflicted, messy as hell, painful but beautiful mess in our mind and heart is a good thing, or at least a better thing than this numbness and sorrow. Maybe.
I hope it is. I really do.
I'm just so scared.

I'm going to go walk outside, and finish reading The Neverending Story, and maybe listen to music later, if the mood strikes me. I love enjoying the results of other people's imaginations, I really do. I love being an observer. I just... I want to be able to observe my own work, if that makes sense? It's the only reason why I obsessively type and sketch and things, I just want to see something coherent and finished, enough to just stare at. Really, if I could just HAND these documents to someone else and let THEM write the story as they see fit... I don't think I'd mind. I might even prefer that. Some of these stories I've been writing for almost 10 solid years, and there's no actual story. There's just concepts, and data, and blueprints. I LOVE blueprints, I absolutely adore writing the spiderweb frameworks upon which a story can grow. But an actual story? Honestly, I'm not sure I CAN write one. I don't see or understand things the way most others seem to. I'm baffled by conversations, by character interactions, by family histories, by that sort of thing. I can write THINGS, not people. So stories confuse me, because I'm too busy picking out symbolic threads and idea chains and the like.
No wait, that's it! I can't do LINEAR stories. That was the issue! Mage Angels is DONE, the story is over, but it's like this: I know how it starts, I know how it ends, and I know the framework upon which everything inbetween hinges. I have no idea what the actual story is. I know NOTHING about the histories or personalities of the characters. And yet I love them, and I love the story, or at least what I understand of it.
Maybe that's why it's hard for me to interact with people. I meet people and I want to know their framework. I don't care about likes and dislikes unless you have a story behind them, something solid, something branching. I see people as characters, almost. I want to know what would be on your summary page, if I were to write it. What story are you living? What role have you chosen to play within it? What colors is your life painted with?
I can't answer those questions. I don't have a solid 'self' to answer those questions for. I'm an observer. I want to be the 'omniscient perspective,' the faceless and formless narrator, with no voice of their own.
I'm rambling again. My apologies. I'm not sure how I got into this topic!

"What brings you joy," they ask? That does. Watching imaginations bloom and unfold, that gives me joy. And honestly, these worlds within me, I want to see them outside of me, somehow.
I'm going to take small steps towards that. Just put the effort out, and see what happens. I don't care about secrecy anymore. Let it all go out there, let other people catch it and carry it. Let it become something greater than me, bit by bit, until it can survive without me. THAT is what I want. I want these stories to become independently existing things.
I've figured it out! Finally I can put words to that need.

All right. I do need to go walk, and finish this book. I'm not sure what's in this entry, ah well, what was said was said.
Best wishes to everyone!

Entry tags:

041314

I really need to stop going online, especially on all socially-based websites.

There is nothing, nothing worse for my mental state than the sort of chatter I unfailingly seem to encounter in "public," moreso on a computer than on the road, because I can at least pick and choose in physical reality. Online, not so much, especially not here. Things broadside me, and then I'm spending the rest of the day fighting off intrusive thoughts and flashbacks and self-loathing resurgences and numbing burnouts. It is not worth it, for one second of shock to turn into six hours of fallout.

I've tried the "exposure" thing, we really have. That was Cannon's big thing: "get used to it." But it backfired horrifically. Our condition went downhill very fast as a result of that thought process, and it left scars that unfortunately don't look like they're going to fade. in short, there are certain states of mind that do not benefit from re-experiencing triggering or unsettling situations, and ours has proved to be one of them. So I cannot force any of us to endure this anymore, even unintentionally.

Honestly, I only really use the internet for archive updates, or catching up on the news. There are maybe 5 webcomics I still read, but it's casual, and I don't mind catching up 4 months late if I must. Everything else I've either quit or abandoned, and it's a huge relief. I'm just hesitating calling it quits entirely, again, because if I slack off on personal updates then my temporal memory tends to suffer as well. Thankfully though I can type updates on my own time and just post them when needed, without going anywhere else.

No use rambling though. I know, full well, that Tumblr is terribly dangerous for someone like me. Most websites are, but this one is especially bad.

I'm going to try to stay offline for a few weeks at least, save for any relevant archive updates. We desperately need to recover and this exposure is not helping towards that.