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⚠ CONTENT WARNING: this entry touches on serious topics relevant to CPTSD. These will range in severity from addiction and casual neglect to implied incestuous abuse. Please proceed with caution. ⚠
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On a serious note...
In the dropdown below, you can read a brief draft of this entry that was written days prior, in a less consistent tone. Although little is mentioned explicitly, it is personal in nature - hence the warning. It's kept here for posterity.
Click me to read (more) nonsensical rambling. [ 05/26/25 ]
Well, a big red warning label like that is one way to make me feel stupid. Unfortunately, I guess that it's necessary. These journal entries - while non-specific in author - are meant to catalogue my everyday thoughts, and progression of my overall "life". A place to express thoughts, a place to express feelings. Does that ring true unconditionally? Time to find out. Don't be surprised if this entry winds up archived, or completely lost. Though, knowing Me, I'll forget it existed until I push the changes. Oops! Looks like you have to confront yourself, dickhead! Let's give this a shot.
So... Don't you just hate it when your motivation is at odds with everything else going on in your life? I sure do. I've tried to come back to writing over the past month, but it feels like there's always some new curveball to prevent it. Unsurprising, right? I think it makes sense that this sort of processing got worse immediately following the final steps of a large project, but I wish it wouldn't. I stopped going to therapy months ago. More realistically, a part of me stopped going, because my memory was that bad. Now I have nowhere else to talk about what's going on. What a stupid dilemma, honestly. It should be so easy.
The truth is, despite the big caution sticker, it doesn't feel okay to say. It doesn't feel right to say what I've been feeling, and it doesn't feel... allowed? I won't say the words; just having this big caution tape is hard enough. It's lying, intricately, to yourself. Over and over, created memories, recreated stories - flashes of feelings rewritten to try and justify some narrative to yourself. All the different narratives are equally stupid, but I can't help but self-cannibalize in their favor regardless. Let's just rip the band-aid off and get the big one out of the way; a family-ish non-family-ish person in my life is getting married! Phew! That was tough, but ultimately pointless. What else is there... oh, right; in regards to the tone of this article, it's worth noting that my Mother is in the psych ward again. This is relevant for reasons that are too complex to get into, but still relevant. She's reached out to me again recently on a handful of occasions, one of which being my birthday (or what would have been, had she not remembered drunkenly past midnight). Honestly, it's like she smells blood in the water. Or, if the things I think remain true, It's that our brains are linked anyway - so I suppose it's only natural. Do other people in this situation feel this way with their Mothers? Do you ever stop feeling bad? Honestly, I wish I could go back to hating her; go back to having my life ruled by parts that claim no stake in it. It would be nice to have no stake on Earth.
It's probably evident from how I was typing, but I wasn't doing very well... it's tough to read something so volatile and bitter being put through my 'collective' masking voice. I do think it's important that I was able to put it into any sort of words at all. (I'm not sure how I feel about having something so vulnerable also stay so public, though.) Regardless, I wanted to come back and do some writing. Needless to say, it's been a tough month. May is always a little difficult for me, the more that I think back on it. It's due to quite a few things: a trauma-linked anniversary, and the beginning of summer break for many people. It's been 10 years or more since I've last been in school, but I guess that it still brings back tough feelings. Unprocessed emotions, I guess. This is probably something that most people who grew up in childhood homes like mine can relate to, but summer break meant that I no longer got a break from my life at home. Don't get me wrong - it's not like it was something I dreaded; it meant I could spent all day on my computer! When you're a kit, you don't really think about how that's probably not a good thing. 
After all, the reliance on the internet was a result of ongoing neglect. Going to school kept me away from not only the abusers within (and adjacent to) my family, but also the ones that resided in my digital life. The line isn't that clear-cut; the situation necessitated an intentional blurring between the digital and physical. All of that is a large motivating factor for me creating this space for myself... now I can spend all my time on the computer in a more intentional, slightly less fucked up way.
Honestly, the date is the least of my worries right now, hahahahhh. As stated above, there's a lot going on with my nuclear family. In the middle of this entry, I actually had to just stop and deal with it directly. Addiction is no joke, and being forced into a position of the "only one to understand" your own abuser (and having it actively encouraged) is torture. Especially while you're processing the fact that person actually did and enabled much more harm to you than you remembered. On one hand, it's hard to cut off the impulse of wanting to jump off the deep end for the other people's sake; on the other hand, it stokes the burning fire in me to escape and get as far away from all of this as possible. Besides this more extreme case, I've also been routinely being taken advantage of by the family I live with recently, and it's not helping... I desperately need out of this house, and I hope that all of this going on doesn't completely and utterly burn me out. This is the one escape I have, and the only way for me to do any sort of work for myself while waiting on the total bullshit that is the SSI appeals process. Augh. My mood is kind of going, so I'm going to wrap up this serious part here.
In the future, I plan to host more serious journal entries like this in different places, with the authorial voice being less shapeless. Perhaps some kind of catalogue for therapy, excluded from the SEO bullshit. (This is a bit from the draft that I decided to keep in the final version. You're welcome, [PAST SELF]! I also think it's a good idea, and something I plan to work on soon.)
The content warning ends here.
On the brighter side,
A couple of good things from recently, uhm...
I got a new puppy on May 3rd; he's a boxer. His name is Gunny (short for Gunther). He's technically my family's dog, but I've been the one taking care of him and cleaning after him most of the time... as well as his sister (who belongs to my Aunt) for the first half of the day. Unpaid*, and forced to adjust my sleep schedule to do their job... hah... because I'm a "built-in sitter"... (can't I at least be a person first?) At the very least, it's not the puppies' faults. They didn't ask to be here, either. I would be lying if I said that I didn't still enjoy their company. Cute puppy pictures, yay 
My IRL friend and I are starting the process of trying to move out of our houses, and are saving up for it currently. I'm trying my best to hold onto hope that it's possible! ... and mostly that I'm not just gonna be dead weight.
I've spent a lot of time with my best friend recently, and it's been nice to talk so much. I did a stream for the first time in 2025, and we got to chat and be silly for a while. It's nice to forget about everything for a bit. I've made decent progress with commissions, and have been having plenty of ideas for more to do. Now if everything else would just, slow down...
Hopefully the next time you hear from me, at least some of this will have been resolved. Here's to hoping...
tagged as: entry, personal
