*Trigger Warnings: Mentions Of Emotional And Verbal Abuse, Su*c*d*l Thoughts, Self-deprecating Thoughts,

*Trigger Warnings: Mentions of physical abuse, mental abuse, parental abuse, verbal abuse, manipulation, PTSD symptoms, anger, and anxiety.*

Saturday, Feb. 11th, 2023

9:55pm

Today has been so difficult. Well, really just the past few hours, but still. My family and I went to the store for shopping and groceries. I had an amazing haul of clothes from Wal-Mart (it was so good!!!), but it was filled with anxiety and self-doubt. It took me a really long time to calm myself down from that, which I am really beating myself up over. However, the main thing that has me upset is after we got home, where my younger siblings and I had to rearrange the room for our other brother, Anthony, to come back home.

My sisters needed to clean out from under their beds in order for me to move them to make space for Anthony’s bed. It took them literally 2 hours to do it, and it was not only frustrating, but unnecessary. I was put in charge of “managing this project”, and they made the process take so much longer than it had to (4 HOURS!!!). Plus, James (my step-father) had to keep receiving “updates” or involving himself every 30 minutes, which made it even more difficult. The girls just kept making excuses, getting distracted, or asking me redundant questions, and I was running out of patience. It takes so much energy to deal with them, and it just has to be my responsibility to micro-manage them.

My problem is that I am constantly the fall-back for James, and my mom supports it. Not only did I have to “run this project”, but James had the audacity to say that he’s “giving” me the responsibility of supervising the kids regularly clean the room. I have raised those kids in his stead. He hasn’t been a parent to them, he’s rather paying child support and free-loading around the house than actually stepping up. He stays in his room, keeps to himself, and uses us as free labor.

I’m not their parent! I shouldn’t have to look after them the way that I do. I am consistently present with them, checking on them, teaching them, helping them, feeding them, and he does none of that. It’s not fair to me, and I can’t even draw a boundary to separate myself from it. I get sucked back into parenting them to where I literally can’t make time or space for myself. 

There’s a reason that I don’t come home that often. This household and this family is a trap.

James and I were talking the other day, about a couple of things. He repeatedly said that he’s an “observer” and “picks up on the things he sees”. It’s so full of shit. He asked me why I never come home and why I’ve been gone for so long (3 years for college), and I had to scramble for a half-truth to save my skin and give him such a vague answer. That it’s because growing up here in this area was rough. He’s so perceptive, but can’t see that the problem stems from HIM. His abuse and how inactive he is as a father and how he walks around as if he’s a king.

I stayed away to avoid him, and being here now is just as hard as I thought it would be. I hate interacting with him, I’m tired of the anxiety from being around him, and I hate how he treats me. You know, he was like, “I can see that you’re pretty responsible, so I wanted to ask if you want to be back on our car insurance?”. Why do you even feel the need to comment on my responsibility? I’ve been responsible for years and it’s not a show for your approval, and has absolutely nothing to do with you. It’s patronizing and belittling. I’m an adult now, I want to be treated like one, and I’m going to treat myself with responsibility. Yes, I’m back living at home, but I’m clearly pulling my own weight by buying the groceries for the whole household each week. And, so much more. So much more!

I’m not your solution to your issues of being a neglectful, abusive parent. I’m not an in-home nanny, a maid, or a butler that caters to your every request. It’s not my responsibility to cover your tracks and then, be a stand-in for you, because you are too tired from work or annoyed or because you want to “watch your football”. Those aren’t my kids, they’re my siblings. And, it’s miserable. I just… can’t take it.

I’m literally draining myself for this family, and I can’t ever have the time or space to myself to recover, because it’s constantly filled with their needs and wants.

I’m exhausted, and I want it to stop. Please.

there have been a truly inordinate number of "where were you when this dropped?" moments in 6B I literally couldn't even fit them all in a single post

*Trigger Warnings: Descriptions of su*c*d*l ideations, emotional abuse, verbal abuse, mental abuse, guilt, anxiety, bipolar depression, insomnia, PTSD symptoms.* Sunday, May 28th, 2023 Part 5

12:06pm

I was hiding my anxiety, my depression, my rage, my insomnia under my mask that I guess was too thick. So thick that it shadowed the drips and drops of the truth, my truth, that I hoped would grow into waves large enough to show on your radar. That I was not okay. Not okay at all. But okay enough to manage, right?

My world was changing so fast and everything was too much, yet slow enough and just not enough that I could see my only motivation to even have a world, flickering in and out with every interaction. With every text left unsent. With every phone call unrung. 

I thought things were getting better, I thought I was getting better. But how could I with no therapist, no meds, no one to help me sift through that packet, no one to talk to? All I had was that packet, my laptop, and two older sisters that switched from laughter to comfort, to withdrawn to frustration. From me being there, to me wanting anything but anywhere…

The way you spoke, the way you acted, the way you looked, set me on edge. I felt like an intruder in your home, and during some of your “open conversations”, I felt like you thought so too. There were lines drawn in the sand, when you said you would always prioritize Gem over me, when there shouldn’t have been. There were so many contradictions, “We’re not roommates in college” vs. “I’m not your parent”, or better yet, “You’re an adult who can make their own decisions” vs. “You should at least inform me of what’s going on, so I can help you”, that should have been cut and dry. There were assumptions, so many assumptions, “I think you look for drama” vs. “I think you were trying to be insensitive”, that could have been questions. 

So many times, we had “open conversations” that were plainly and painfully, just one-sided. In which your claws were out, and I cried and apologized. Even the one time I found the strength to stand up for myself, I ended up saying “I’m sorry”, drowned in tears enough to last a lifetime.

Part 1 -- Part 2 -- Part 3 -- Part 4 -- Part 6 Part 7

*Trigger Warnings: Mentions of death and passing, grief, loss of family members, illnesses, and emotional breakdowns.*

Thursday, Oct. 27th, 2022

4:46pm

Dear Me, 

It’s a beautiful day today as I sit here at an espresso bar. It’s a clear, sunny day with a chill breeze, I feel comfortable without a jacket. This afternoon, I woke up at almost 1 o’clock, which is very late, but it felt amazing getting up. It was sort of a dead sleep, but because I fell asleep at almost 5:30 this morning, I guess it was worth it.

Angel was able to get her car, even though it was terribly difficult and infuriating. Gem has been really stressed lately and has a lot on her plate because of work, and it has me worried about her.

I feel like today has been probably the best day for me since I’ve moved to New York City 10 days ago. My mind is the clearest it’s been in a long while, and I actually feel more present. Life and the world around me feels tangible and touchable and I feel like an active part of the it today. I hope it lasts!

I’ve been listening to Demi Lovato’s new album lately, and I think that the pop punk/ pop rock genre might be a resonate genre of music for me. This album speaks to me in a way that Willow’s album did in a similar way. It’s an album filled with grief, longing, rage, desire, and love. I’m noticing that I’m gravitating towards the slower songs and those with interpolated meanings. This album is heavy with trauma and seeking relief, and I heavily relate and never knew I needed this album or genre in my life right now. I feel seen and heard by this album and it feels elevating as well as relieving to have this. I think my favorite songs are Substance, Eat Me, City of Angels, and 4 Ever 4 Me.

Part 2

There is so much more I could say about this, but there is not enough room. Remember to check with reality rather than believing conspiracy theories promoted, supported, and funded by white nationalist hate groups.

Missouri is proposing 20% of the nation’s anti-trans legislation this session. Gender-affirming care for young folks is on the edge of being criminalized (so much love to trans friends in states where that has already happened).

Please keep up with the anti-trans legislation in your state and combat it. There are lives at stake.

Transphobes do not touch this post.

Image ID: a 10-image cartoon comic featuring Joey, a boy with short hair.

Image 1: Joey, upset, gesticulates towards an open laptop. Text reads: The reality of St. Louis trans kids. Last week, a former (non-medical) employee of Washington University’s Pediatric Transgender Center was featured in a viral article about how the clinic was “rushing” kids into medical care and “mutilating” us. Every single thing she said was a lie, but the media loves it. Footnote reads: I wouldn’t give any more attention to this, but it is immediately endangering the lives of trans people. Missouri has launched a state investigation and is actively attempting to criminalize gender-affirming care based on conspiracy theories.

Image 2: Joey points to a map of the United States where Missouri is singled out, and a map of Missouri where St. Louis is indicated with a star. The text reads: The Transgender Center, located in St. Louis, Missouri, has been the target of hateful attacks from the far-right state legislature for years. It is part of Washington University Hospital, a branch of a prestigious private university.

Image 3: A younger Joey injects his T shot in his leg while someone takes a photo. Text reads: I can tell you that everything in the article is false because I received care at the Transgender Center beginning at 16 years old. My medical transition has brought me nothing but joy. What a gift it is to be trans!

Image 4: A younger Joey sits on a couch and stims with a tangle fidget toy. Text reads: No one is “rushed”. I sat on many waitlists, had to have 6 months of specialized gender therapy and a diagnosis of gender dysphoria before even being referred to the Center, and I was denied as “not ready enough” by an endocrinologist the first time I finally got an appointment. Footnote reads: If you’re curious about what it looks like to be a trans kid, I did another piece on that! Check out tinyurl.com/transkidscomictumblr.

Image 5: A colorful map of the United States shows how many states have a Negative Gender Identity Policy Tally and how many states have criminalized gender affirming care. Joey holds a credit card. Text reads: St. Louis’ Pediatric Transgender Center is the only one in the region, meaning the waitlists are extremely long. Plus, no one in the only industrialized country without free healthcare is getting medical care for fun. Many American trans folks have to fundraise for our care.

Image 6: Joey, distressed, sits on a couch while talking on the phone. The person on the other end says: “That’s me!” Text reads: This former employee spoke about specific cases, and patients have been able to identify themselves. She shared our private medical info and called us horrifying.

Image 7: This is split into two panels. In the first, Joey holds up a box of condoms and a packet of birth control pills. Texts reads: She especially hated trans men such as myself, saying that trans ideology was destroying “girls”. She lamented about hormones making us “sterile”, which is a complete lie. We trans mascs have to actively prevent pregnancy. In panel two stands a doctor. Text reads: Every time I had an appointment at the Center, doctors reminded me: Remember: testosterone is not a contraceptive! Footnote reads: The wonderful Erin Reed wrote a breakdown debunking all the lies in the article. See tinyurl.com/erinreedmissouri.

Image 8: Joey, masked, sits at a circular table with his brother, an unmasked boy with fluffy short hair. Joey’s brother is showing him his phone. Text reads: Major newspapers continue to platform these complete lies because they bring in engagement and money. The Washington Post tracked down my little brother’s personal cell phone number to try to get in contact with our mom – the president of an organization supporting trans kids in Missouri. Freaky, right?

Image 9: Joey, looking disgusted, leans against a door frame while talking on a cell phone. Text reads: But no one wants to talk with me, the adult who medically transitioned at this clinic as a minor and has not “desisted” in six years. The Washington Post reporter, who didn’t know anything about trans people, talked with me for 20 minutes and used a sentence of mine in an article about “both sides of the debate”. She didn’t mention that this former employee is being legally represented by a recognized anti-LGBT hate group, nor that all of her claims are unsupported by reality or science.

Image 10: Joey looks angry and gesticulates. Beside the drawing are two photos of Joey, one of him happy in front of a trans flag, and the other of him drawing up testosterone to take his first T shot. Text reads: There is no debate. There are trans people, and there are people who want us dead. There is truth and there are conspiracy theories. Where is my viral article in a major paper?

Published Feb 16, 2023. End ID.

HAPPY PRIDE MONTH !! 🏳️‍🌈✨🏳️‍⚧️

LGBTQ+ rights , always and forever

suga is cheering you on :>