I just want to move son to my bed so he can be close to me, but he’s getting older now and I would surely wake him up and I can’t do this every time we get in a fight. I can only imagine how horrific his teenage years will get and how often we will fight, and this is not a habit I should start at eight years old.
- Don’t be angry at yourself when anxiety/depression flares up. It isn’t your fault and no one blames you and if they do they’re pieces of shit.
- Don’t orbit around your perceived value so much. You’re not the sum total of what you produce.
- Don’t let yourself wonder why people love you. That’s not how it works. There are not stark, individual reasons that a person can enumerate about why they love you. It’s the entire, unique combination of what and who you are.
It’s just really hard because I don’t want to feel this way, and I feel like buried deep inside my mind I have no reason to be so sad, but it’s so fucking exhausting wading through the sadness continually to remind myself that I am okay, that this is just a severe chemical imbalance, and that I can make it through this.
And the worst is when people tell me it’s not real, because it is real.
Triggering words in a Youtube video that just hit me really fucking hard.
"You’re not asking to be raped if you’re a slut."
Rearrange those words, and you have the worst sentence ever fucking said to me.
Son and I got into a really big, frustrating argument today over whether or not he could spend the weekend at my parent’s house. I know things are getting better with my parents— albeit very slowly, but a very selfish part of me doesn’t want him to be around him. And I know he loves being around his aunts and uncle— whom I miss so much that my chest aches when I remember how close we once were— and my parents have a house that is wonderful for an eight-almost nine- year old boy. I get it.
But I am afraid that the more time he spends with them, the more he will realize that I am not all here. That I have done bad things. That I am not who he thinks I am. That I’m not all that great. That I have been a terrible son. That I haven’t been there for my siblings.
I’m afraid he will spend time with them and see me as they see me.
And I’m afraid he will find out about my twin, and I will have to tell the real story to him, because I cannot bear to lie to him, despite the innocence he holds in his eyes.
I am watching Cops, and it brings the weirdest feelings in the world.
I am not writing— no surprise.
I want to cry, but this medicine won’t let me, and I don’t have a reason to cry.
I am nauseous, so fucking nauseous.
I am in desperate need of a routine and space.
I am on day three of this semester.
My bed smells like a boy, I smell like a boy, and I think I made love for the first time in a long time.
Rule 1: Always post rules
Rule 2: Answer the questions from the person who tagged you asked, and write 11 new ones
Tag 11 people and link them to the post I’ll tag whoever I want.
Rule 4: actually tell them you tagged them
1: What is your biggest fear?
My biggest fear is not being a good father and losing someone else close to me to suicide, including myself.
2: Your greatest accomplishment in life, so far?
My son. My ex, Brit. Despite my inability to publish and go through with offers and contracts, I would say my ability to right. Getting clean for three years plus more, despite my recent relapse, has been my greatest accomplishment. I’m not dead. I haven’t killed myself.
3: Goals for the next 5 years?
Stay clean, be a good dad, finish my masters, get into a good PhD program.
4: Dream job?
Being a professor in rape culture or sexuality, as well as sex and the sexy double-standard and fetishization of women who are overweight. Running my own youth clinic and shelter based around LGBTQ+ issues, identity issues, and substance abuse.
5: Person you would do anything for, no questions asked?
My son. My, ouch not mine, Brit. My sisters and brother.
6: Favorite color?
Grey. Purple. Blue.
7: Favorite animal?
8: First love’s name?
9: Any piercings/tattoos, if yes, which are your favorites? If no, reason?
A tattoo on my back that I cherish. And regret a bit.
10: Best genre of music?
Slow, light, sad music.
11: Facebook or Tumblr?
Tumblr, obviously. I don’t do Facebook.
To do these ~deep~ questions.
Oh, and I was tagged by the lovely trulyuntamed