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There are only people.

Every category that you could classify someone under has different spectrums within it. This is why it becomes so difficult to assign identities to groups. 

It is common for younger generations to throw hate toward elder generations, simply because the majority of the “boomer” population have similar views and prejudgements about the younger generations. But there is still a reason why it is also sort of a… trope, if you will, that elders are wise. But it has nothing to do with the physical age of their body.

Have you ever heard of someone referred to as an “old soul?” It’s usually used to describe young people who have a distinct wisdom in their ways. Like my son, for example. The things that he said and the ways that his beautiful mind worked, everyone could tell that he wasn’t a child on the inside. And sadly, he died before his time, but had he lived, he would have aged into what people may refer to as a “wiseman.”

When he learned of his diagnosis, he handled it with more grace and more stability than anyone I have ever known. He didn’t cry. Occasionally, he would have spells of rage, but those were only brought on by the steroid that they used to keep the swelling down in his head. Once his body was used to the medications, he became just this old little young little man with wisdom and serenity that I wish more than anything I could be. He was and still is an inspiration to anyone who hears the stories we tell about him. 

We never saw him show any indication that he was sad. He stayed strong, and he fought to survive with every last ounce of strength he had left until his brain literally could not function to keep him alive anymore. Human bodies are so fragile and pathetic. But his soul was far from. Even in the days and weeks and months leading up to his death, despite the suffering pain of being immobilized and fed through a tube, he continued to indicate that he wanted to continue the fight. I fought against doctors and ethic boards and family members and even myself sometimes, but I never gave up because he never did. 

Even when he could no longer use words, he found ways to communicate with me. I would ask him if he was ready to go, and he wouldn’t answer. But when I asked if he wanted to keep fighting, he would squeeze my hand and attempt to vocalize, even if it was a grunt. So, even though I was chastised for “prolonging his suffering,” and even though sometimes I catch myself wondering if I did the right thing, I always come back to the fact that I only did what he wanted. And I knew him well enough to know that that’s what he wanted. I fought for him, and Nebraska’s medical staff did not. The medical staff who are fucking around with Covid-19 like it’s just some sort of spoken curse than you can avoid by covering your eyes and ears and humming. But it isn’t. And they know it isn’t. And they knew that there were different things that we could have tried that would have helped buy him more time. But they refused those things. And whether it was over money or because they simply thought they knew what was best for him when what was really best was simply to respect his wishes, the point is, they were wrong. Money isn’t worth a human life. And taking away someone’s right to try to spend as much time alive as possible, even if that time is painful, is the same as murder. 

Again, I say that if you think you can force anyone to die because of what you think is right, then you absolutely must not stop those who are suffering from choosing when they are ready to stop it. The right thing to do in life or death situations is obey the choice of the person whose life is at stake. It is their right to decide. Do not treat others the way you want to be treated. Treat them how they want to be treated. And rest assured that you have done the right thing.

When I began this entry, I had originally come to talk about identity and what it means to be unique and why labels are a double-edged blade. But since it has seemed to digress into a different direction, I will instead send this one off with a new title and come back again later to revisit my initial topic. 

At the bottom of it all, I want to say that you can be pro-life without not being pro-choice. Sometimes pro-life is pro-choice. And if you’re thinking about ending your life, please at least do the following:

-Give the decision some very deep and scrutinous thought before you really make your move.

-Do not leave any loose threads. Get everything squared up and away so that you aren’t leaving anyone with the burden of your unfinished business. 

-Write an essay, record a video, do a podcast. Whatever medium you choose is fine, but you need to explain your reasoning. Don’t leave anyone wondering why you chose to do it, and don’t leave anyone with the burden of thinking that it was their fault. Express your feelings as transparently as possible. Acknowledge the pain that you will likely cause, but do not discount your own feelings either. 

It is my personal belief that physical death is not game over. The things that make death a terrifying and painful ordeal are the ambiguity of the unknown and the time spent waiting to find out. We will all get there eventually. So all we can do is accept it and look forward to it. The unknown doesn’t have to be scary. It can be exciting and exhilarating. It’s the ability to let go and try something new. All you need is the trust that when you leave your body, you will not lose your consciousness. That consciousness is what it means to exist. And while science may tell you that, to some degree, your body dictates your consciousness, consider the following:

Memories come and go. Sometimes, something that you thought you had completely forgotten returns very suddenly, and then you can’t possibly imagine how you could have forgotten it. Think of our brains like hard drives. There is only so much space for information storage. So what do we do when our computers can no longer hold the information? We upload it to the “cloud.” It can still be accessed from anywhere in time and space as long as you have the passcode. Files can be shuffled around and traded off to save space and are only dowloaded again when they are needed. Maybe each time you recall a long-lost memory, you also send an unnecessary one back to the cloud until it becomes necessary again. And maybe once your hard drive stops working, you pack up the remaining files and escape to the cloud to keep them safe.
Perhaps you meet up with some of the consciousnesses that you enjoyed time with, or maybe you find out that there are only maybe a handful of consciousnesses and you all channel yourselves into life as we know it, for fun, sort of like a video game.

Or maybe you find out that it’s just you. And all of existence was just a thing you made to occupy yourself.

You won’t know until you get there. But while you’re here, make the most of it. And when it’s time to go, embark on the next stage of your journey with serenity and grace. Prepare for the worst, but hope for the best. And expect that it will meet somewhere in between.

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A Symple Thot

If you ever feel like your identity is being attacked by someone, try to remember this:
Most people try to avoid conflict at all cost, because conflict causes anxiety. So it is almost certain that if someone makes you feel invalid, it’s because they are feeling the exact same way. If you hate feeling like that, don’t make someone else feel that way.
Say how you feel if you must, but don’t be mean. Feelings are feelings. Everyone’s feelings are unique. It’s part of who they are. Focus less on the things that make them different, and redirect your attention to the things that unite you.
Everyone is a hypocrite at some point or other. But we are constantly growing and changing. Every moment is a new experience, and a chance to learn and grow. By the time you read this message, the person who wrote it will be long gone. But it’s okay. Because I am constantly being replaced with newer, more updated versions of myself.
It’s called being human. People can change. And they do. Some just take longer than others. So don’t stop taking chances on people. It’s better to have friends than enemies. One day they will wake up and feel completely removed from the person they were when you knew them last.
Wouldn’t you want another chance to disprove the idea that you’re a garbage person? Everyone does. So just relax. We’re in this together, for better or worse.

Barbecued Brains

Are you tired of your same old me, the way I am? Well good news, readers! Soon, you won’t ever have to deal with that version of me again! In fact, if you wish on your lucky stars as soon as possible, there’s a chance you might never have to deal with me again at all!

That’s right, folks! I’m talking brain electrocution! Soon, I’ll be stuck to a table with something jammed in my mouth to keep me from biting my tongue, while electricity is blasted into my brain for three hours, three days a week, ultimately re-programming my personality to make people like me! But wait! There’s more!!

Given the incredible dangerousness of such a procedure, there’s also the risk of death on the table by heart attack, followed by stroke! Or… was it stroke, followed by heart attack? I can’t remember the exact order of the total unpleasantness of death by ECT, but it doesn’t really matter, because fatality is fatality, any way you slice it.

So, if your deep loathing for me goes even deeper than just a sharp distaste for the person I currently am, and you would rather I didn’t exist at all, there’s still time to submit your lottery tickets in the form of quiet hoping, wishing on stars, performing dark magic rituals, or just regular old voodoo dolls. If you’re above the lottery and don’t want to try your luck and, if you happen to be extremely wealthy, there’s a chance you might be able to pay the doctor under the table to botch the procedure! After all, that’s what they have malpractice insurance for, isn’t it!?

So kick back and relax, readers! Wrap yourself in a nice, warm blanket of the knowledge that no matter what happens, the Sunny you’ve come to know and hate will not be around to darken your doorways (or Internet) much longer!

Oh, and don’t forget! Before I can get ECT, I have to participate in a series of blood tests to make sure I have a clean bill of health beforehand. So if your hatred of me goes beyond simply wanting me to die quickly, you can also choose to cast your lottery tickets toward me dying in a more slow and painful way, such as cancer or blood disease!

Until next time~

A Final Farewell, and a Thorough Apology

Since I apparently only write heartfelt and honest things for my health, I figured I may as well share here the long and thorough apology that I wrote. That way it at least means something. Even if it’s just for me.

***

I feel as though I have not been as thorough as possible in giving you the apology that you deserve. You probably won’t even read this, but even knowing that to be the case, I cannot move forward feeling better about myself if I do not at least try. So…

I’m sorry. Really. Truly. From the bottom of my broken heart, in the immortal words of Brittney Spears.

I know that you feel that I rushed you into a relationship, and for that, I apologize. I didn’t realize. I fell for you, head over heels, faster than a drunk in a room full of trip-wires. My love for you sort of blinded me to the simple facts. That is my fault, and I am sorry. It just seemed to me at the time that you were feeling the same way. But now you say that wasn’t the case, and so please accept a sincere apology for my clumsy mistake and misunderstanding.

Next, I want to apologize for the way I treated you during my first trimester of pregnancy. Though it wasn’t really my fault, per se, any more than a trans person adjusting to hormone therapy. Hormones fuck you up, and so I must emphasize that much of the time I was an asshole, it was due to my body adjusting to having a baby inside me, and then later having to readjust to being… just me. You cannot possibly imagine what it’s like to have to share your body with another human… plus, if the paternal chimaerism thing is true, then I probably also had parts of you flowing through me, possibly causing me to exhibit some of your own mood problems, and may also explain why I was sort of repelled by you for a little while.

But I’m not literally trying to justify myself, because if I did, it wouldn’t be an apology. I just want you to understand that I wasn’t entirely myself. I can’t say I don’t know what was wrong with me, but knowing doesn’t make it make anymore sense in my head.

I was not me. And me apologizes for treating you so shamefully after forcing you into a situation that you couldn’t easily get out of.

I understand how frightened and alone you must have felt, because I’m feeling it now, and it is the worst. So please, please, PLEASE. Accept my humble apology for treating you so horribly and making you feel the way I do now. No one deserves to hurt this badly. And I know that I have apologized to you for this before, numerous times, but this apology is special because it is coming from a me that is feeling trapped, isolated, and lonely, just as I made you feel back then. So now when I apologize, it is from a place of complete understanding. I know exactly what I did, and regardless of what caused it or how little control I really had, Ben… please believe me when I say that I am so, so sorry.

I never meant to hurt you. But I did. Countless times. And much like you, or at least the you I once knew, I can’t stop kicking myself around for the mistakes I made and all the ways that I hurt you.

I am sorry for all the things I did when I was recovering, postpartum. I am sorry for making you feel so bad you compared me to Kyuubeh. I am sorry for experimenting with drinking. I am sorry for the fight at my grandparents’ house, when I threw that heavy thing at you. None of these behaviors were okay, and there is no excuse. I could have tried harder and been better.

And you have to understand that this sort of thing was why I started using. It was obvious that my emotions made me a shitty person. And you took yourself elsewhere and started talking to new people without me. And it hurt because I knew it meant that I wasn’t making you happy enough. I wasn’t enough.

And I wanted you to be happy. So instead of telling you to cut it off with your new friends, I decided that if I could just stifle my emotions down to a dull roar, maybe it could work and I could learn to accept you talking to others.

Please understand that I was only afraid that you would grow away from me and leave. And that is exactly what happened.

I know that this is an apology letter, but as it is also my final letter, I do have to digress for a moment and say something that desperately needs and deserves to be said. Please, if you’ve read this far, don’t stop now. I deserve to say this.

I was doing what I thought was in your best interest, in spite of my better judgement. I gave you the freedom you wanted and put my feelings, concerns, and insecurities on the back burner. For the very first time, Ben, you had my full and complete trust. And giving you that got me exactly what I always feared it would, which was why I have always been afraid to ever trust anyone completely. But I trusted you.

I trusted you with Brandon, knowing full well that he had tried to fuck up our relationship in the past.

And as for your friends welcoming you back with open arms, well duh. They hated me from the beginning without having ever met me. They hated our relationship because it took you away from them, which automatically made me the enemy. So of course they’re going to welcome you back with open arms!! That dumb bitch is out of the way, and it’s bros before hoes again!!

It doesn’t take a rocket scientist to realize that. But I guess you’re happier this way, so I suppose I am happy for you, in spite of myself.

Anyway.

I won’t continue to banter on about all of that. I just needed to say it because it needs to be heard. That is the one defense I am actually putting up in all of this, and now that it’s done, I would like to continue my apology.

I fell apart when Faron got his diagnosis. I know that you suffered too, but I don’t think that you quite fathom the impact it had on me, as he was my blood child. My baby that I birthed. Even if you can imagine it happening to Ivy and understand that sort of pain, you still couldn’t possibly understand what it feels like to spend 9 months creating a life inside your own body, and over a year recovering from giving birth to this person, only to watch them slowly die in front of you. It’s a slap in the face.

But that’s probably just coming off as another justification, and that’s not what I’m aiming for. What I’m trying to get across is that at the worst possible time in my life, you were there for me, AND for him. You took care of my little boy as if he were your own, and it takes a very special sort of person to do that.

I thank you for everything you did. And I apologize wholeheartedly for making you do that while I fell apart. Sure there’s a decent excuse, whatever, it’s still something that I probably could have and definitely SHOULD have tried harder to control. But I failed, and I am sorry.

Four years. You spent half of his entire life with him. Which also means that for half of his life, I was spending time on you that I could have spent with him. Particularly in the beginning, when we were lost in each other and demanding privacy constantly. I want to say that I don’t regret the time I spent with you, but circumstances being what they are, I feel like I got gypped pretty hard. I guess I’m kind of digressing again into another things that needs to be said, but again, I intend for this to be my very last attempt to talk to you, so I need to be as thorough as possible and leave nothing unsaid. No loose ends, like you did to me.

Ben… so much of the time I spent with you, trusting that it was a forever kind of thing that I wouldn’t regret, was time in Faron’s unfortunately finite amount of life that I could have spent with him instead. If I had known that this is how things would end, I must admit that I would have ended things during my first trimester and spent every waking moment possible building more memories with my son. Perhaps then, he wouldn’t have developed all of the mental issues he had. I think that he felt very abandoned. Another thing I did wrong, but I can’t apologize to him now because he’s gone, and I fucked that up.

If you were still with me, I wouldn’t have so many regrets, but now it sort of feels overwhelmingly like… I made a choice between the two of you, somehow. And I chose you. And because of that, I lost him. But I thought that you would still be here, despite my long history of always being the dumpee, never the dumper. I gave you that trust that you always lusted after and got so upset when I couldn’t just hand it over. :/

Once, you literally asked me “why can’t you just trust me that I’ll never leave you?” Well, now you know. Because the moment I gave you that trust, you destroyed it, just like everyone else.

I feel- and this is just my feelings, you don’t have to give a flying fuck, but- that if you had any humanity in you at all, you would take to heart this fact that you stole precious, finite time away from a child’s mother and then dishonored him and made it all a humongous waste by doing what you did. He wouldn’t want this. He loved you like a second father. He said you should marry me. He would have wanted you to try to work things out, rather than just suddenly jumping ship with ZERO fucking discussion and going out of your way to make me suffer by spreading bullshit about me, and turning all of my friends against me so that I would have no one to turn to.

I’m sorry, but what you did to me was beyond fucked up.

HOWEVER. I hope this should be my last little intermission of expression of my own personal thoughts and feelings, which you will most likely ignore, assuming that you’ve even read this far, which I seriously doubt, but as I said before…

I have to at least try.

And so while I am apologizing, let me just go ahead and apologize for having the weakness to add in bits about my personal feelings, rather than just sticking to the point at hand. I’m sorry, but I do feel that it was necessary. Please accept my apology.

Coming to the end here, I want to apologize for scaring the shit out of you. Assuming that you legitimately didn’t drug me (I’ll never know for sure, because they refuse to test the goddamn tea swabs… maybe I’ll send them to a lab my damn self. 🤷🏻‍♀️), then I honestly have no idea what the hell possessed me those three days when I went apeshit and was not myself.

I am sorry.

I remember bits and pieces here and there, and I think that I was just subconsciously picking up on things that were taking place behind my back, and the more I realized, the angrier I got. It’s not an excuse, just an explanation. I couldn’t express myself properly, so I used weird-ass comparisons to try to explain what I meant, which just made things worse. It was honestly one of the scariest things that’s ever happened to me, so I can only really imagine how terrifying it must have been from the other side.

I don’t like myself when I’m angry at all, much less in a fit of rage like that… I’ve never been that way. It scares me to think of, and I regret that it happened.

I regret how much I frightened Ivy… and you.

I am so, so sorry. I wish I could say that, like all the other things I’ve apologized for, it was something that I could have and should have controlled better, but… since I literally don’t have a solid reason for what happened, it was literally out of my control.

Everyone but the CPS losers think it’s highly suspect that I just suddenly “went crazy,” and then you took off. It seems too convenient, and so I must also apologize for suspecting foul play. It’s all that makes sense. And even if you didn’t drug me, it’s possible that someone else did, or so the case worker claims.

So drugs can’t be ruled out. That is, drugs outside of the simple cold pills that I had been taking which had never caused such an effect on me.

But whatever happened, whatever caused it, it hasn’t happened again, and I pray that it won’t. I have been off of severe mood-altering medications (like lamictal, lithium, etc) and have been taking nothing other than gabapentin for my anxiety. I haven’t been using dex. I’ve been much more clear and level headed, which is why I’m finally writing you this letter. I wanted time to make sure that I was basically myself again, and I do seem to be, albeit extremely terrified, isolated, and lonely. I’m attempting to work on getting past that, but part of the healing process is facing you with these things…

Apologizing for the ways I screwed up and begging you to understand the ways that you did. Please. You cannot just walk out of my life one day with no discussion whatsoever. It’s like you’re dead. Literally ghosting.

I hope you know that this experience has taught me a valuable lesson. I have no longer contemplated suicide, thanks to your fantastic display of how selfish and shitty it is to make the choice to forcibly remove yourself from the lives of people who love you and need you, leaving them with a gaping hole in their heart and no way to ever speak to you again, loose ends, etc.

Finally. I got perspective. I saw what I had been threatening to do, so many times, and it just clicked and I understood. Even though I never actually successfully did it, I made threats and attempts, and for that… Ben… I am more sorry than you can possibly imagine.

See… I’ve never really had to deal with anyone like me. Not until semi recently, actually, and now it’s like… astonishing. I keep thinking “Jesus fuck, this is what everyone I’ve ever known has had to put up with…” And yes, I admit that for a moment, I thought fleetingly, that if I had just managed to pull it off successfully, it probably would have been a huge relief to everyone. But the thought faded just about as soon as it came, as I realized thinking that way was basically the same as wishing my friend would just get it over with, which I would never, ever say. And so it’s put a lot of things into perspective for me, and I made a solemn vow to myself that in addition to erasing the idea of suicide from my head, I would also be there for her, like no one ever has for me. She checks herself into the psych ward practically every other week, and I’m always here when she calls. I always help put things in perspective for her and keep her head above water. Even when I’m also struggling. Because that’s just who I’ve always been.

Just like with me adjusting to my hormones changing for pregnancy and postpartum, I know that she is dealing with a lot in her hormone therapy. So I can’t blame her for her feelings.

I want you to know that I mean every word of what I’ve said when I’ve made my apologies. And I’m sorry for declining so badly after the eviction. But please at least understand that I had just lost two of the most important things in m my life, and then immediately had to return to a ptsd nightmare that I hadn’t faced in ten years.

Please understand that when I started getting weird about Emily, it was just because I was jealous of you and Brandon, and I missed having history with someone. I feel like such a ghost here. I’m so far removed from everything I ever knew, and I have no history here. No old high school friends, nothing. And you always, always compared me to him- this person you said you once had a crush on- and so… I just felt like I was just this familiar that you settled for because I was like him, but available. :/ It was very damaging. And you basically left me for him, so… I guess I was justified in feeling that way, but still…

I’m sorry for putting you through all that Emily bullshit and most likely making you feel… well… the same way you made me feel, which isn’t right.

I’m sorry. There is no excuse for making you feel a way that I knew from experience was devastating. I am so, so sorry.

And I know that it probably means nothing to you, but I haven’t really thought of her at all since you left. I simply don’t care anymore. It was just a weird phase I was going through because of stupid, irrational feelings I was having. And I’m sorry for all of it.

I know that you’ll never forgive me for any of the things I’ve mentioned in this letter, and I know that I’m probably wasting my time writing all of this because as evidenced by my last email, you probably won’t get/read it. And that’s… on you, I guess. :/

But I’m writing this because I need to. And because you need it. An apology goes a long way, at least in my experience. And so I’m hoping that multiple apologies will go ever further. Please believe me when I say that truly, honestly, I never intended to hurt you, and I wish things had been different. But trouble and tragedy and plain old bad luck just seem to follow me everywhere. So I can understand why you would want to stay away from a doomsday magnet. I get it. It hurts worse than just about anything I’ve ever experienced. On par with losing Faron, if I’m completely 100% honest. But I understand. And I am truly sorry for dragging you into my complicated life of disaster.

I should probably just stay away from anyone, if I really want to do the most good. If I just suffer alone, I can spare everyone else the trouble of going through hell with me. I’m starting to realize now that this is how it was always meant to be. Me, alone, plagued with the worst luck.

But now I’m probably just sounding melodramatic, and I don’t want any of that. I guess I’m just trying to make some kind of dumb justification for your absence.

Please believe my sincerest apologies for everything, and even if you can’t accept them, please at least believe me when I say that they are true and heartfelt. And please- do not try to accuse me of harassment again. I hardly think that addressing you to apologize for my shitty behavior is harassment. And besides, like I’ve said a million times: this is my last letter to you, unless you object. But I’m not even trying to hope for such a thing. I just want you to know that I am sorrier than you can even fathom, and I still want to make you happy, even if that means disappearing from your life forever. It’s high time I face up and do what’s expected of me. Even if I’m only expected to just go the fuck away.

And I will go the fuck away now.

But one last apology, if you’ve made it this far:

I’m sorry for wasting your time with this letter, especially if my apologies are meaningless to you. I just had to give them, for you, and for me… as one small step toward becoming the person I strive to become every day.

Accept them if you like, or don’t. But there they are, in all possible sincerity.

Goodbye, Ben… You will always be in my heart. I wish you every happiness and the best of luck in your new life.

An inappropriate reaction

There was a court hearing going on between a woman who had been accused of mental instability, and the man who had reinforced this idea by spreading a bunch of bullshit about her, turning all her friends against her, and possibly drugging her to make her have some sort of unprecedented break that magically never happened again after his sudden, undiscussed ship-jump from her life.

The woman’s lawyer was reading off a list of things that she felt important to the matter at hand. But one of those things was never discussed with the woman, and so all of a sudden, to the woman’s surprise, the lawyer told everyone about certain acts and suspicions that she had expressed concerns about several months ago, but stopped when people hushed her and told her not to talk about it.

These matters had been rethought and the woman had decided that there was a good chance that most of them could have just been extreme coincidence.

However. As the lawyer read off this list, the man did something peculiar. Right there, in the middle of a legal court hearing, he made a great, flamboyantly over-the-top show of laughing hysterically, rocking back and forth, covering his face, and even ripping off his glasses to wipe non-existent tears from his eyes.

This elaborate show seemed rather inappropriate. It seemed like the opposite way that someone would act if they were truly innocent and perfectly mentally stable. Particularly in a legal setting, where there are judges and lawyers watching you.

And so after months of telling herself that maybe she really was just connecting things that might not have been related, hearing /seeing things (even though she had no history of hallucination), remembering details wrong, etc… She suddenly reopened that book, and decided to think harder on it.

Gauging this completely inappropriate reaction to the allegations that she originally had wished to god hadn’t been brought up, she decided that maybe it was a blessing in disguise. He put on a fantastic little show in front of everyone, most likely in an attempt to sway the courts in his favor, not realizing that it didn’t look good on him at all.

The woman suddenly felt like an idiot. Had she been making excuses for him again and ignoring her gut feelings, just like when they were together and he was abusing their daughter? She had just spent hours writing and rewriting a well thought out and extremely thorough apology. Had he even really deserved it?

As she was mulling things over, she got a notification from her trusty horoscope app that simply said “You are becoming who you are.”

The woman smiled at this and finished out the hearing with grace and proper tact, unlike the man who had just given more than ample insight into who he really was underneath all of his sociopathic charm.

As the wind rolled through, tussling her hair, she smiled to herself and realized that she was finally free, therefore truly becoming who she was. He had done her a favor in leaving, giving her the time and space to truly be herself again, no longer stifled by his expectations and criticism.

Now all she had to do was make a firm case against him, pulling out her aces that she’d been keeping up her sleeves all this time, for his sake. But it was clear he no longer cared about her, and though it stung in places she didn’t know she had, it also gave her the peace of mind she needed to start fighting aggressively. No more flopping and taking things.

No. It was time for the teeth and the claws to come out. It was time to present the evidence and to summon witnesses. To send samples to a lab of her own accord and prove that everything she said was true. To finally free herself from the scrutiny and unfair judgements of her otherwise good-natured character.

She would give back everything she had received by the power of three, and stand back up, stronger than before, ready to face her newly revived life, free of the toxicity that he had been in it.

Guilt and anger.

So much of the time that I could’ve spent with Faron before he died was spent on Ben instead. The least he could do is actually honor him by trying to work things out, because that’s not only what Faron would have wanted, but Ben also took away a lot of the finite time he could have spent with me in his tragically shortened life.

Ben always got so pissed about how hard it was to gain my trust, and why couldn’t I just accept that he’d never leave me? But once he finally gained my trust, what did he do? If I had known he was going to go back on his word and dump me anyway, I would have gladly ditched him right after Ivy’s conception and spent every single possible moment with Faron instead. But I can’t get that time back now.

Faron is gone forever. Ben isn’t. There’s still time for him, but he refuses to use it wisely, and it’s just about running out at this point.

A Difficult Choice (or two)

Now that I have health insurance, the time has once again come to pursue ECT. I discussed it with my doctor yesterday, and I am awaiting evaluation.

It’s a catch 22, and I am concerned. On one hand, if it actually works, it may expedite things with my daughter and the entire court nonsense that I am beyond tired of after 6 months of torture. And that would be phenomenal.

However, there are some things that I’ve been mulling over in my head for the past couple of days as I’ve had far too much time alone with my thoughts. One is memory loss. What will I forget? Do I want to forget? My memories, no matter how painful, are important to me. Still… that isn’t the worst of it.

Part of me also wonders how much of who I am will change as a result. I can’t say that I’ve spent terribly much time in my life feeing truly happy, simply because every time I start to get to that point, something horrendous comes along and buries me under layers upon layers of prime rank bullshit. So… thinking back, there were only a few extremely happy memories… the births of my children… the warmth of Ben’s love and the feeling of really connecting with someone… That last happy weekend we had while Matt was with his parents and we drove around in some beautiful alternate reality where we had our own life together and our own not-falling-apart car…

That’s all. Little bits here and there throughout. But mostly those. So I don’t know if electrocuting my brain to make me happy is going to massively affect who I am as a person. And as I know truly at this point that no one likes who I am as a person, surely that can’t be a bad thing… but what if it is?

And what of my creative energy? Not that I’ve had much of it since my muse left me to die. But still… I think most artists will agree that some of our best work is created in pain. Not that I’m at all interested in continuing to suffer. I’ve had enough of that shit for an entire life time… but art and music were my livelihood. Will they get erased? And will I even care? And if I don’t, then I’m a vastly different person.

And how will it affect my feelings for him? This is the hardest part. Because they are causing me a lot of pain, but at the same time, I don’t want to give them up. I want to believe that if I push forward and continue to show how much I care and how badly I want to make things work, and not give up on him no matter what kinds of bullets he shoots my way… maybe it’ll rattle his brain and he’ll realize what he’s throwing away.

You just won’t ever find another with my loyalty and tenacity. Someone who cares truly and deeply and will continue to care, no matter what obstacles stand in their way… obviously, the one person I finally trusted to be that for me wasn’t. And as much as I know that I should walk away and forget it all… it’s just too much for me to walk away from. It would’ve been seven years a couple of weeks ago. So that’s 6 1/2 years, where we went through some of the most painful trials that most people never have to go through together. If we could make it through those, than why not this?

I can’t wrap my head around it.

I have a scrapbook, a photo album, and a box of memories, all of which I had been considering roasting over our Halloween bonfire. To help me forget. But I need to know… I need to know if that’s the best course of action. Should I destroy everything and try to forget as much as possible? Or should I keep holding out hope? I’ve been very patient, but I don’t appreciate the lies and deception and especially the hiding.

It’s so dumb. If one had nothing to hide, they wouldn’t hide. It’s that simple. And I have made it abundantly clear that I would be willing to patiently listen and not lose my shit, should he decide to be honest with me for once. But if he chooses to keep trying to tell me that I was hearing and seeing shit, which I have no history of, then that’s really on him and his conscience. He’s the one who will have to carry that burden for the rest of his life, and the longer he has to carry it, the heavier it will grow, until one day, it crushes him.

And by that time, I won’t be there to scoop his smooshed soul up from the ground and paste it back together with my special love glue. Guilt can weigh a person down for years, even decades before it breaks them. And as patient as I am and have been, I’m not going to waste away, waiting for the rest of my life. I’m still aging. I’m not getting any younger. I’m already missing out on so much of what life might have to offer just by being as patient as I have been.

But I know that I will never love again. That much is certain. I forbid myself from it.

What really bothers me is, I feel like everyone has this secret agenda of like trying to force me to go back to Matt and live happily ever after being the dumb little housewife. And that’s just not going to happen. Matt and I are extremely good friends. We’ve been together through all of the same shit Ben and I went through. He’s still here as a friend. And we are both fine with that.

And honestly, no one gets to dictate my fucking future and try to shove me into some role I don’t fit the part for. I decide my own future. I’m not some fucking Princess Jasmine. I choose my own future, and it currently has two paths: 1. Work things out like adults and be the parents that our beautiful blossoming baby girl needs and deserves, or 2. Shut myself off from all personal relationships that aren’t strictly blood or longer than ten years, leaving me with a very small handful of people that don’t even really care about me at all and with whom I will probably never be fully open with.

I want to be hopeful. I want to dare to hope for a brighter future… but just… with the history of my entire life being a bright, shining testament as to why god is dead and hope is a lie… I really am afraid to be so daring.

I need to know what to do.

Should I burn the memories and get ECT and hope to forget the pain, or…

Should I hang on as hard as I can and hope against all odds that maybe, possibly, somehow something will actually go good for me for once?

Or, I suppose, there’s always the chance that ECT might somehow kill me, and finally lift the burden off everyone who wishes I was gone. Because, let’s be honest here… no one actually wants me around anymore. The people who put up with me only barely do, and they make it exceptionally clear that I burden them. But I don’t know. If I get better, maybe I can move out into my own house and get out of their lives and go back to only existing when they need something.

Because that’s my purpose in life. I’m a convenience store. Open 24-7, but only comes to mind when useful. Occasionally gets robbed of goods, services, love, and emotion… time, labor, energy… With nothing in return, except being mildly tolerated.

I want to be worthy of more than just being tolerated. So what should I do? Because what I would so much rather do is get family therapy with Ben and Ivy and work through the pain and the problems and learn how to be better people not only for each other, but for ourselves. And especially, for our daughter. There’s no chance of memory loss or personality change with therapy. And I could still also get EMDR alongside.

But that would actually require me being seen as a human being with feelings and needs and a desire to become better… to be seen as someone who is deserving of the same love and dedication that I put out. I mean, fuck… I did my best to be not a pest in a situation where I felt like my feelings were invalid and I had no other choice. I did it because I wanted him to be happy. And he let me, because it did make him happy. It took the me out of me and made me hide away in a corner and leave him to himself, which is what he always seemed to like best. :,/ I needed him more than ever, but I was forced to just stay out of the way so he could be happy.

And now it’s a hundred times worse, and I’m tired of being the doormat. I’m tired of hiding my feelings and burying them so he doesn’t have to worry about them. My feelings matter, too. Now, more than ever. I need them to matter. So, so much. >_<

Huh.

Someone told me to keep writing because I write well. It’s kind of surprising, honestly.

It’s after one in the morning, and I can’t sleep because at 10:30, there’s a long-awaited court hearing that will determine that I am going to continue to be bossed around and forced to do things that people who don’t know me think I need, before I’m given another goddamn court date at least three months out where they will probably do the same thing again until the government feels that it has made enough money off traumatizing my child and me. Because, let’s be honest, that’s really what this whole thing is about.

If they really cared about my “mental health” like they claim to, they wouldn’t be keeping us apart like this and forcing me to do things that they want me to do regardless of the fact that it’s actually more detrimental to my mental health than helpful.

A few months back, I posted an article about broken heart syndrome among other reasons that keeping a mother from her child might kill her. It’s been six months, and there is no end in sight. Sometimes it feels like they really are trying to kill me. After all, they’ve not been very careful about hiding their favoritism for her father. They decided to put her with him, even though that was never the plan, and they only told me this two days before they planned to go through with it, telling me “your lawyer can object.” But my lawyer took a week to respond, so as a last-ditch effort to prevent this, I called the police, which… if you know me at all, you know that I would never involve the people who have constantly ruined my life unless I felt it were absolutely necessary.

And do you know what they did? They fucking punished me. By refusing me visitation. For trying to protect her. Hah. If that’s not favoritism, I don’t know what is. So yes, it’s not out of the question for me to feel that they’re hoping to eliminate me so her dad can have everything he’s been dreaming of, including me being erased. But I can’t say that stuff, because it makes me sound crayzeeee. 🤪

I honestly don’t give a shit. I’m allowed to feel however I feel. I’m not standing up here claiming my word is gospel. I’m just venting. However, said article wasn’t simply about losing a child to the government. It was about losing children in general. And we all know my son is dead as of 2017, so it’s a double whammy for me, and anyone who doesn’t suffer from some sort of extreme mental disability should be able to put two and two together and realize that maybe it’s a really shitty idea to keep us separated. They think that 3 chaperoned three-hour visits a week makes up for it. For us being separated and her being put with her father who is still being a dreadful human being toward me, despite my attempts to be civil and kind to him.

I almost apologized to him today. But then he turned around and acted like an immature little kid toward me again, and I realized I don’t have anything to apologize for. It dawned on me… he called me a “master manipulator,” (and let’s not even get into how strange it is that my best friend got dumped by a fuck machine who called her the exact same thing, and I know her well enough to know that’s bullshit) but I realized tonight (took me long enough) that that is the most manipulative thing! She and I are both very naive and overly trusting girls. So when someone says something shitty about us, we automatically assume it must be true. But!!! The key to manipulation is, it implies purposeful deviousness, which was never something I did.

However! Calling someone something so mean knowing that they’ll believe you and question their sanity… now that’s manipulative. So I dodged a bullet there. He doesn’t deserve an apology. He deserves to go through all the bullshit they’ve been putting me through, because he’s the abusive one, and he doesn’t try to hide it.

The most infuriating part is that I can’t kick my stupid feelings for the dweeb. I had to see him the other night on camera. I was unprepared. And my dumb little tell-tale heart was racing and made my heart monitor go off, which I hope no one heard. I’ve struggled with the idea of maybe trying to meet new people and find something else, but I’ve come to decide that it’s worthless to even try. Nothing will ever make me as happy as we did, even when he wasn’t the best partner. He never beat me, at least, but he did hurt our daughter which is what I tried to make clear to the courts, but they said that they don’t care because it wasn’t recent. I argued, neither was the incident that got us here. And of course, they countered with the ever-weak “this isn’t about the incident, this is about your mental health.”

Right. Then why continue to contribute to its decline? Why was she taken following the incident? I argued that the incident was an anomaly… something that only happened one time in the entire history of ever, and I brought up the swabs I’d taken of the tea that I poured for everyone, but only I drank, and I demanded they be analyzed, but they refused. Where the fuck is the justice in that?

Riddle me this, kids: what’s more likely… that I randomly went batshit insane and thought my dead kid was locked in a van down the street, or that someone fucked with me by drugging me?

They go “how can you be sure that if someone drugged you, it wasn’t Matt?” Let me think… possibly because Matt isn’t the one who ghosted me while I was in the hospital and then bailed on me with his butt buddy the day I got home?? I mean, what do I know, though? I’m just a crazy bitch, clearly. 🙄

These people are the epitome of actual crazy. And I’m the scapegoat. Hah. What a bunch of bullshit.

Welp. Goodnight, my beloved void. I have to get up early for my quarterly harassment hearing. 👍🏻

Loveless

Here is your soundtrack.

Dear Void,

After some time alone with my thoughts, I’ve decided I won’t kill my blog. Not because I think that anyone cares what I have to say, but because there’s a lot of unpacking I have done here and plenty that I have left to do.

I suppose I want to start by discussing the state of loneliness in which I find myself. I know that I’ve spoken of it before, but mostly I’m frustrated bursts of anger surrounding the situation. But the anger has subsided now, and all I feel is sadness.

I am sad that all of my good friends blocked me right away after the incident. It isn’t fair to take the side of one person by default without hearing the other side. Further, it pains me to see that some of those friends have begun to harass me and some of my Instagram follows, seemingly out of anger that I have come out of my shell and found confidence in myself to post more risqué photos of myself for others to enjoy.

From what I can gather, that bitterness seems to stem from the fact that I am doing this rather than being with Ben. But surely they must know that I have tried desperately to work things out with him, only to be shut down each time.

The last time that I mailed him was on my birthday, which everyone conveniently forgot. I was lonesome and sad, and all I wanted for my birthday that I felt was within reason was to be heard. And so I sent him a very sweet email explaining that I still love him dearly and would give anything to work things out. He responded by threatening me with a restraining order. So… what more can I do?

If they think we should work things out and get back together, I’m not the one they should be harassing. And frankly, harassment is not the answer. Calm discussion wins out over harassment any day. But on the topic of harassment, I am sad also that my email was also called harassing, despite that nothing in it was mean or cruel. I simply wrote about my feelings for him… how I’ve always had them and always will, because I made a commitment to forever, and now I’m stuck here alone because of it.

I cannot see myself with another man. The thought makes me nauseous. Particularly when thoughts of intimacy come up. I simply can’t. I know that I had previously considered myself asexual due to a lack of sex drive. However, it’s become clear to me in recent months, since stopping the use of the cold pills, that I am not. I’m just attracted to one person. As for the lack of drive, that was not due to a lack of love for Ben.

You have to understand that you don’t know the full story. I began using heavily after I found out that he had been secretly chatting up a bunch of people online behind my back. It might not sound like a big deal to you, but for me, it was nauseating to find that the person I loved had been forming close relationships with people who knew plenty about me before I’d even heard of them. And he should have known how that would affect me given that during the same period of time, Matt had gotten a secret girlfriend who knew everything about us before we’d even heard of her.

Then, there’s this that I found today:

This was in a notebook of his that I never snooped through.

But it perfectly describes my feelings about him. And if that was how he felt, he should have known what it’s like to feel jealousy over the person you want to be one with… that you want to be included in all aspects of their life… and yet, this is what he considers as abusive behavior, which makes no sense to me. Frankly, I find it unfair.

But back to what I was saying about sex drive and the pills and all this. So when I found out about these people who eventually became mutual friends, I was torn between standing up for my feelings and reinforcing the boundaries that we had set for our relationship, and just burying those feelings so that he could be happy, or whatever.

He knew that I was hurt, and that pills would help numb the pain. And so he got them for me. And when he discovered that they killed jealousy and gave him the ability to do pretty much whatever without having to deal with my feelings, he chose to support their use, rather than come to some sort of agreement that could benefit us mutually without me having to resort to poisoning my body for his sole benefit.

Cold pills kill sex drive. And so… I started to think that I was asexual. But I made it clear to him that I was still willing to be intimate with him, he simply had to ask. But Ben was not one to ask. When he wanted intimacy, he thrust it on me in ways that made me uncomfortable. Particularly in the middle of the night when I was trying to sleep. He had a tendency to get grabby to an almost rapey level, and there were times I would literally have to sleep on the couch to get free so I could sleep.

I made it clear on multiple occasions that confronting me directly with his needs would be a much more efficient way of getting me… in the mood, for lack of a better term. Being told that you are desired is a much bigger turn on than sudden molestation. He was informed, but refused to take that route, and so as you would expect, intimacy declined.

I have no doubts that lack of sex was the main reason for his growing contempt for me. And it was no fault of mine, if I’m being honest. I laid down simple rules. And if he had had more interest in my health and our relationship than in just being able to get away with whatever, I wouldn’t have had to continue using. I did it in an attempt to make him happy and save our relationship, but ultimately, it would seem that it more succeeded in ending it.

I had encouraged him so many times to seek therapy or otherwise get some sort of help that could maybe make things better for him, but he refused each time. Even today, it was encouraged for him to get family therapy with me so that we could be on speaking terms, since the court randomly decided he gets to have Ivy, even though that was not part of the plan. My attorney said that was the best thing we could do, and that if he refused, we could bring that before the judge and use it as grounds to have her removed.

But I don’t want to have to take her from him. She was taken from me, and it’s done serious, permanent psychological damage to me. So why would I want to do that to him? However, I don’t feel comfortable with him being alone with her if he is still refusing help. Especially family therapy which can help all three of us, and which I desperately need if I’m ever going to fully heal.

Again, he refused. So… I have tried and tried and tried to work things out, to get him help, and to take small steps toward not throwing away what would have, in two days, been a 7 year relationship, and to not permanently destroy our child who only wants her family back.

So again, I say: Please stop directing your anger toward me. I have tried for him, and he simply does not want anything to do with me. If you really have feelings that strongly about us and our relationship, I’m not the one you need to talk to. I still love him more than I’ve ever loved anyone. That feeling isn’t going away, even when I wish it would.

I wasn’t always a picture perfect girlfriend, but I only did the best I could to try to accommodate the feelings of the man I loved. The fault of the end does not lie with me.

He asked me if I wanted him to come home. I told him I did. I even picked him a bouquet of wild flowers. But his friend took off with him and was ultimately the one who told me “it’s over, Sunny. You need to realize that.” That should have come from Ben. Not the friend who was notorious for trying to ruin our relationship in the past. And Ben should have known that just as well and not let his friend make his decisions for him.

Please stop harassing me, and especially stop harassing my followers. They aren’t even in this.

One more.

1. You don’t get to call me paranoid when you just up and bailed on me one day with zero discussion and refuse to talk to me about anything, plus when you straight up lie to me, tell me there’s no one else, and then start fucking around with multiple someone elses.

2. You don’t get to spy on my password protected extremely personal shit and then get pissed at me for checking out the shit you post publicly and then threaten to slap ME with a restraining order.

3. I’m getting “help” because it’s court ordered, not because I need it. Honestly, since I went off meds and I don’t have you to deal with, that’s been a gigantic fucking help. I feel better now than you EVER made me feel. And even more honestly, you need plenty more help, and you’re making it obvious to everyone by trash talking and belittling me for the issues I had that you only made worse.

4. How dare you get pissed at me for having suicidal thoughts, when you’re perfectly capable of the selfishness that it takes to purposely remove yourself completely from someone’s life and leave a giant gaping hole in it? I’m still here. I’ve survived. And if you hadn’t bailed on me, I’d still fucking be here trying to fix your fucked up ass. Suicidal thoughts are just thoughts. A lot of people have them, especially after losing a child. I went through several periods where I overcame them and tried to pick my life back up, but obviously, shit keeps raining down on me every time I get back up. And maybe if you’d actually been there for me when things got extremely shitty, instead of chatting up whores online and then moving it to physical shit, maybe I wouldn’t have gotten to the point that I did. You emotionally abandoned me when I needed your love and support more than ever.

5. You don’t get to fuck around when you said you supported my decision of being ace. If you didn’t support it, all you had to do was talk to me. I know that you have needs, and I believe that I even said that to you and asked you to talk to me if you ever felt like you were having trouble. You didn’t. So how fucking dare you?

6. This is all your fault. You did this. You treated me like shit when I needed you more than ever. You never asked me to stop. In fact, you liked it because it kept me out of your way. You liked me better when I took medicine. So the pills became my friend when you weren’t.

7. You’ve made it clear that you don’t give a shit about Ivy. You don’t care enough about she wants and needs to even *try* to fix things, and you’re too much of a chicken shit to even TALK to me without threatening me, so this means that I can’t share with you the things she does and makes, which you SHOULD be proud of. But you’ve shown that you only care about yourself, so why would you give a shit about your daughter and what she can do and the person she’s becoming? You don’t. And it shows. You can’t even be a man enough to fucking come to her BIRTHDAY PARTY which would mean more to her than whatever bullshit you BOUGHT her. She cannot he bought. She is a human child. And if you really loved her, you would know that.