Yearly Archives: 2014

It’s not unconditional love if you treat a child like they are broken or fundamentally flawed. If you love your child, you accept your child. If you don’t understand what they are going through, talk to experts, check out support/outreach groups, read about it, Google it, and listen to your child. Make sure they know they can come to you and that you will love them no matter what. Create an environment where they can tell you what they are going through, where your support and love are evident. If there are toxic influences that might harm your kid or have harmed them, including religious groups, it is your job as a parent to leave those groups. If it means cutting out extended family members, ending friendships, losing social status, do it. Your child is more important than all of that. There are a lot of things that are difficult for parents, but loving your child should never be one of them.

Remember when I fell a few months ago? It’s okay if you don’t, since clumsiness is practically my middle name. Well, when I fell, I injured my wrists, ankle, and knee. Doctors checked my wrists and ankle because they actually looked injured. My knee just looked bruised at the time. After a couple of weeks, when everything else was healing, it became apparent that something was really wrong with my right knee. It would burn when it touched anything. I could still walk on it, so I just pretended like it was no big deal. When it hurt a after pool therapy, I’d just chalk it up to overuse. When it hurt after walking, I’d think I walked a little too far or I was too out of shape. The doctors checked it a couple of times and said that it was related to the Osgood-Schlatter disease, which I accepted. But no matter what I would do, it kept getting worse. Over the weekend, it started cracking and not in the typical mild, yet nauseating Rice Krispie (crepitus) way. It was making loud pops and cracking sounds. Sounds that accompanied pain. The pain goes down and across from around the inside of my right thigh to the back of my knee. It ends at the top of my calf/bottom of my knee. This weekend, the pain was becoming very apparent whenever I’d bend my knee while walking. I can stay off of it and bend my knee and not receive nearly the same level of pain as if I’m walking around. But I want to make sure that that’s the appropriate treatment for it. I accepted that I’m going to have to go to the doctor and tell them exactly what’s going on and how the issue has progressed. Hopefully, they will have an idea for something to help, since ice packs and Voltaren rubbed on it aren’t really doing much. Last time I went in, they said I might have to go see an orthopedist, which is an idea that my mom fully supports–especially after I told her about the cracking. I have an appointment in about an hour from now, so *fingers crossed* that I will get the help I need. If not, I guess I will learn to deal with the pain. I don’t really have much of a choice otherwise. Wish me cracking-less knees.

Year-End Doctoring

“Use the pronoun preferred by the individuals who have acquired the physical characteristics of the opposite sex or present themselves in a way that does not correspond with their sex at birth. If that preference is not expressed, use the pronoun consistent with the way the individuals live publicly.” – AP Stylebook on Transgender Pronoun Usage via Tumblr

You know what’s totally ridiculous, but still happens? When you’re sexting with someone you have had sex with and you’re getting all stressed over sending pictures that show your body’s flaws. The other person has seen you naked and is attracted to you and may have even asked for pictures of you, so it’s not that they’re the ones who have problems with your body: it’s you. via Tumblr

I mentioned in my post about blocking that I’ve started blocking abusive people; sometimes before they insult me. I left something out.1 Seeing the same sort of harassment being perpetrated against others has led me to follow other frequently harassed people. It’s kind of funny. The abuse and harassment is meant to degrade and dehumanize people; it is meant to make them feel alone in the world. For me, it provided me with new friends and acquaintances. It gave me a group of people with similar beliefs to laugh and joke with. The abuse backfired. In trying to tear down individuals, it brought them together. I won’t say that the abusive comments didn’t hurt or that they didn’t impact me in a negative way. They did. But I’m choosing to look at the positive side of the whole issue. I’m choosing to acknowledge the new friendships and the fun that came with them as being more important to me than the hateful words of some asshole online. Intentionally. ↩

Unexpected Effect

At the beginning of this year, I had the fun experience of having some assholes calling me a whore and trying to meme my face. It was a rough time. I started self-injuring more. I had suicidal moments. I was not doing well for a while, even after I blocked those involved. In the time since then I’ve blocked other people who were shitty to me, including former friends and complete strangers. I’ve also blocked people I have never interacted with. Some were known for stalking and assaulting feminists offline. Some were on Level 1 or Level 2 of The Block Bot for harassing and abusing people. Others are part of sites like A Voice for Men, or friends/supporters of those who run sites like AVFM. There are celebrities and their groupies who tweet sexist, racist, homophobic, anti-Islam stuff. There are members of GG that I’ve preemptively blocked after seeing them harass others. And I would block these same individuals again. Even after receiving crap from them on their secondary accounts. Even after making the “block list” by a stalker for simply following other feminists. Even after receiving harassing and threatening tweets for retweeting something by someone that one of these people doesn’t like. I don’t have to put up with their crap. I don’t want to either. I might enjoy a little arguing from time to time, but there are only so many times a woman can be called a dumb man hating slut who is so ugly no one would want to fuck her let alone rape her.123 People who make this sort of statement to, about, or near me get blocked. I do it because I don’t deserve that sort of crap in mentions. I do it because I spent twenty years in therapy; trying to break through trauma and self hatred and having biological predispositions to having mental health issues. I do it because I have had happy minutes, hours, and days. I do it because I’m finally allowing myself to be a true and living person, one who dates, who makes plans, and who leaves her house multiple times a week. I don’t want to be the completely broken girl who trolls could tear down so easily, so I block them to help make sure it doesn’t happen. So if you’re blocked from my Twitter account, that’s why. And if you’re wondering why someone else would preemptively block another person, maybe it’s for reasons similar to mine. Really you don’t have to know why. If a person blocks another person, then it should not matter to you why they have, even if you’re the one being blocked. It’s not your business. It’s theirs. Paraphrasing what became, at times, a daily greeting. ↩Look at the logic in that statement. ↩These are also the people who believe in vast feminist conspiracies. ↩

Blockfest ’14

A while ago, I told a guy I had been talking to on the phone and texting/IMing (we never met in person/we met on OKC) with that I was no longer interested. In our early conversations, he told me all of the compliments I’d never heard and all of the ones I’d always wanted to hear. He made me feel like I could always depend on him to make me happy. Like he was the only way for me to feel that happiness. I think that was deliberate. He told me early on (a week after we started talking) he loved me and wanted to marry me, despite barely knowing anything about me. He’d gotten more disturbing with each discussion and each one made me more scared about if I would be safe around him. I had to tell him I felt exactly like he did (ie I loved him) or that I cared more for him than he did for me or he’d suggest I didn’t care. I also had to describe sex acts that I wasn’t interested in so he could get off. If I said I wasn’t interested in something he would tell me that I would be when we met and that we would do it then. Our last phone call, he described wanting to choke me during sex. It didn’t sound like kink related choking. It sounded a bit more threatening. I knew I needed to walk away, so I tried to. A couple of weeks after I first said I was no longer interested in talking to him, he IMed me. I had to explain (again) why I wanted to end our conversations. After I did, he told me that he still felt horny. I told him that knowledge made me uncomfortable. He asked if I would do him a favor and I said yes, even though I wanted to walk away. He wanted me to sext with him one last time. I didn’t want to, but I felt like I owed him something. And I worried that if I didn’t that he would come find me. (I still think that sometimes.) So I briefly did/said what he wanted. And I cried while I did it. I finished describing whatever fantasy he wanted me to describe and I wanted to scream and vomit. Ever since my mood has been worse, I want to avoid people more, and I just feel like some part of me broke. I’ve only told my two best friends. I can’t tell my family or the guy I’ve been casually seeing (aka having sex with). They would probably be supportive, but the idea of telling them scares me. I feel like it’s my fault and that I’m being ridiculous because what happened wasn’t something that physically violated me. I know violating emotional boundaries is still a big deal. I just can’t convince my brain because I feel like what I went through shouldn’t be doing this to me. But it is. And I don’t know what I should do. He didn’t break the law. I’ve blocked him online. I wouldn’t answer any calls and told my parents not to answer his calls if he made them. But there’s not much more I could do. via Tumblr

Little Talks

My mom has decided I’m manic.1 Her basis for this decision is that I’m grumpy and I have been trouble sleeping. I’m grumpy because I feel bad. I feel bad because I’ve had a bad fever & stressed headache for a week, had my (weeks late) period for almost two weeks and was spotting for almost a whole week before that, and been nauseated and have had a messed up appetite for three months. I’ve also had heartburn and reflux that’s still acting pretty badass after 80mg of Prilosec and 2-3 doses of four Maximum Strength Gaviscon tablets per day. And the nausea and headaches aren’t helped by waking up to the smell of tuna or Vienna sausages, which my father loves to eat for breakfast.2 Oh, and there’s the whole continuous injuries and continuous family drama. After all of that, I’m allowed to be grumpy. And the heartburn, injuries, and headaches are enough to mess up my sleep. So, no, I’m not manic. I just feel like shit lately. And I’m expected to do everything that I would do if I felt well without complaint. And the longer I go without bitching, the more likely I am to go into a massive bitchfest. And I always suppress my bitching because it’s not just expected but because I don’t want to say things that would upset people. It doesn’t help my mood/general bitchiness that I haven’t had therapy in a few months. I tend to start having freak out fests when I miss too much therapy.3 I’m not. ↩Why? ↩I may be getting better psychologically, but my issues are still there and still require regular treatment. ↩

Theoretical Mania and Absolute Nausea