Daily struggles

If I wanted to flirt with Lovely this is how I should have been complementing them.
1) they love the Night Vale
2) I don't think I've mentioned this before but they are strange AF. They would be the person to be happily daydreaming about the human centipede before anybody else thought of it.
Is it weird that their level of strangeness is a point of attraction for me? I think the fact that they think of these things and like them is bizzar AF, don't get me wrong. But I like that they are really odd.

x

Daily struggles

Fighting off the urge to become a raging alcoholic. Since the beginning of this year I have lost all means of emotional coping. No wine nights, no traveling, no Lovely to listen to me/save me, no therapy, no psychiatrist ( I have a temp psychiatrist but mine is currently on maternity leave), and no dog. I can't survive like this.

Its my birthday I'll get high if I want too.

I use to end almost every birthday in tears. Bring new meaning to "its my birthday, I'll cry if I want to." I would try every year to not end in tears. Despite all my preparation and hard work from 7-18 all ended in tears. Disappointment or just exasperated with still being alive I would cry. Every year I'm met with the same overwhelming existential dread. Why am I still here? I never thought I would make it this far. What am I supposed to do now? I didn't plan for this. Where do I go from her? My suicidal ideation doesn't really allow for long term planning. The farthest out I ever plan is 6 months, that's only for conference season. My 5 year plan would include my death so I don't plan. Every year I'm forced to reconcile my extreme dismay about my continued existence. I don't cry any more. At 19 I started to celebrate the fact that I made it this far despite all odds and very much not wanting to be here. I've been getting high since 21 and it helps with the suicide feelings. I also review the past year. I've been putting that off this year. 23 sucked. I broke up with Amoriartii and that consumed most of my year. I also started my relationship with Vendetta. That is all that happened this past year. My mental health kicked my butt from December to now. Life has been a struggle. I basically spent the year realizing there are a lot of skills I need. Out of all of then the skills I would like to work on at 24 are as follows: walking away, knowing when to quit then actually quiting, being less emotionally attached, and being honest about my feelings with people I know I can trust. I get a lot of praise for not being a quitter. Yet no one seems to recognize the adverse effects that has most of the time. It means not being able to walk away from toxic situations becuase you think it will get better or think that you can fix it. It means living with abuse becuase you won't let the abuser beat you.

I spent a lot of time thinking about how I'm like a fire. I'm a fire sign, fire is my element, my aora, and also dominates my zodiac. I am wild and often uncontrollable, extremely powerful, and can easily get out of hand. I often feel like I'm to much for people and my loved onse. I don't want to burn them or consume them. How do you cuddle or be friends with something so dangerous? On the other hand how do I keep people from controlling me to the point of suffocating? I don't want to smoother and put out. Balance is a hard thing to come by in my life.

The other part of me spent a lot of time thinking about water. Similarly powerful, life giving, easily abused, and goes with the flow.  I hate/love the water. Its so calming to me. It goes on for what seems like forevere. It is similarly dangerous and consuming. I think a lot about drowning in it. Not just in a suicidal way, but in a peaceful way. I think about becoming one with the water. Letting the world shape me, while slowly shaping it back.

My goal for this year of my life is to maintain and grow the healthy relationships I have. I've been putting a lot of work into have healthy relationships with lots of communication and expressing feelings in positive way. I want to pursue that. Here's to 24. Wish me luck?

Daily struggles

Depression vs. Activism

My extreme desire to stay in bed vs my innate nature to promote and take part in change whenever possible.

Skit: White Allies (usually perceived as Male)

Last week I was at my breaking point with White American.

***Side note***
I will be calling Whiteb Americans white people from now on.I am only refering to Amercans. But not just causaian Americans. Amercains that are mixed or are 100% a person of color that benfit from white privilege by passing physically at white. Even if only part of the year because of tanning. Also I'll be using quotation marks around identity that are how society perceives an individual(s) and not necessarily how the person or people identify(s)
******

My boss is this white lady that has it out for me. Not because I'm a terrible employee, which I am. If she was trying to fire me cuz I was a terrible employee she's had more that ample opportunity. She is trying to ruin me so I can't be hired anywhere else. Honestly she is really bad at it. So she just continues to annoy me. However, there are 2 white "men" on my board are the bane of my existence. Amoriartii is being an uncooperative toddler havingba tantrum because I ended our romantic relationship.  Amoriartii has manipulated my other white male board member in to seeing me as an unfit leader, we will call this other member Bond. Together they have decided that there are a number of problems and the way that KU is run and has recuited people. That this is all my fault. They haven't presented any solutions though. Only problems. Other than showing up to actually present our workshop, they don't do any work. Also when they have a problem that they could solve themselves they dump the mess in my lap. They are like this is my problem that I created, and even though I know you J Skittles are busy and have nothing to do with this mess, it is your problem now and I exspect you to fix for me with out any help from me. I can not tell you how frustrating that is. Then I have my random encounters with white people shoving and pushing me without saying anything. White guys never stop man spreading when I sit next to them on the bus or train. So I man spread back and they get super offened.

So it was the first day of March we have only completed two months of 2018. One of those months was super short and only had 28 days. Nevertheless, by March first I have run out of patience for white people. I took to Facebook to tell everyone I was moving to Wankanda to live with only other people of color for the rest of my life. I made a separate post saying that I am not ending my friendships with my white friends. I'll just have to come visit them cuz no white people are allowed in Wankanda. Some of my POC grad student friends are working on a plague to kill all white people and I am 100% commited thier cause now. I was convinced that there are more shitty white people than decent ones. In America if every person counted in the last census that claimed to be white died that would be about 75% of America's population. Which is a wild amount of people. I think it would be more than that though. However, if we expanded this to a world view only about 12% of the world population would die. That's if we killed all the non people of color in the world. We would define a person as a person of color if at least 1/8 of thier genetic make up wasn't white. If we assume that 12% of the world isn't at least 1/8 POC and kill them, that's actually not that much. It seemed like a reasonable amount. Almost everywhere, but Asia excluding Russia, would need to redistribute the wealth, property, resources, and jobs. We would also need to figure out what to do with all the dead bodies. It all sounded nice.

I saw my best friend this weekend and he asked me why I had become so anti white. I tried to explain. However, Husband #7 is gifted in the art of debate. Even when he is wrong he can make you believe he's right. I hate it. Basically he pointed out that the more POC hate white people the harder it will be to get white people to work with us. The easier it will be for the Alt-Right get these would be allies to be our enemies. Then I told him it won't matter what they think/feel if we kill them all. He said we would be worse than the colonizers who colonized North and South America.  I was like but if you add those people with all the terrible white leaders in history up to this point, plus every KKK member there ever was, plus the opposing white people during the civil rights movement I think we'll be even. He was not pleased. I am just so tierd of being thought of as not as good because I'm black. I'm upset that I have to work harder to generally make less. I'm upset with all the policies in place to keep poor people poor and that disproportionately  effects POC. I am fed up with the prison pipeline complex that targets men of color. I'm upest that systems/policies/ progrsms that were set up to oppress POCs where abolished without creating programs/systems/policies/agencies to try to undo the damage and even the playing field. I am upset that POCs are less likely to graduate highschool and have the highest illiteracy rate. I'm livid that POC are extremely more likely to be killed by police. He asked me "how does hating white people solve any of this? Do not resond Plauge!" The truth is it doesn't. If white people make up about 75% of America, POCs need white people to help us.

It is difficult though because I bet 85% of that 75% don't have any idea what the top 5 issues facing POCs is. Racism and deportation don't count. They would probably get police violence but that's it. The problem is the duty to educate always falls to the marginalized. Google still exist for now. Also public libraries, where you can go and read a book.

Let's say the oppressed to decided to tell the oppressors all the bad things they are doing and why they are bad. First off for some reason the privilege group hates acknowledging they are privileged and they are at the benefiting end. So you get all the denial or they get angry. If they are angry then the process ends here. If they are in denile they will pull up every random case where a white person had it just as bad. This is were the POCs are like 5 example doesn't mean we are lying. It means five individuals got a taste of what its like to be POC. We have thousands of cases to your five. Now the white people are a little salty but maybe get the point. Then you get the not all white people argument, which is hilarious. Unlike the not all men argument, where it is true not all men have ever sexually harass or assaulted a women. All white people have benfited from being white in some way or another. This involves the white people being willing to really think back on thier life. If they do they can always find at least one instance. Now the white people feel bad and get stuck in thier guilt of being white. This is extremely unhelpful. All white people want to do is cry and wine. The POC must now make the white person feel better so that this white person will be a useful ally. Why do we have to do our own emotional labor and white peoples'? This is such a messed up power dynamic. Now that they feel better and they think they understand all problems faced by POCs they are ready to take over and lead the movement themselves. Then POCs explain about taking up space and drowning out the important voices. Now the white people are confused. White people are even more confused when POCs tell them its not about how they feel or thier plans. POCs tell the white people we want white people to trust POCs, do exactly what POCs ask you to do white people, be quite when POCs ask/tell you to white people, get POCs the resources we need white people, don't invade spaces that are onlu for POCs, and get other white people to pay POCs to educate them (or if they can't you educate other white people for free). I've never seen a white person take this well. POCs also have to be careful the entire time they are educating the white people as to not hurt thier feelings becuase the only thing that is as fragile as toxic masculinity is white fragility.

This is why the seasoned veteran jaded activist don't do that work anymore. People should be able to state the facts as clearly as possible and the audience accept it. I don't care that talking about black men being murdered by the cops makes my white co workers uncomfortable. First why does the subject make you uncomfortable? Second if I'm not having the conversation with you, mind your dam business. Third even though I wasn't talking to you, you decided to assert your opinion saying the victim was a thug.  What makes him a thug? Even if he was a thug isn't he entitled to trail? How come we can apprehend school shooters, white men, without killing them even though they're heavily armed?  Why is his life less valuable to you? I think it is because you're rasict. Why are you offened I think you're a racist? I based it on your response. I don't care that my white coworkers got upset. First, because I was right. Second, I get justifiably upset by racist mircoagression but I have to deal with it because HR doesn't care. I think its fair I I get to call them out on their racist BS if I have to deal with microagressions.

Skittles: birthday woes.

This is a strange year for me. I have always had that stand out from the rest friends that I go out of my way top be with. Husband number #7 is still my best friend. I'm actually writing this on my plane home. My friend Elder Jerbear still gives me life. However I'm seeing him the weekend before my birthday. Both my parents work that day. All of my sibling will be out of town. My confidant, Lovely, is mad at me so I'm avoiding the east coast. Vendetta is busy. Latke and I are on hiatus. I can go to Cali for my birthday but I honestly don't know if I should go. There is drama between my lesbians and their roommate California eyes that I'm stuck in the middle off. I'll think of something its is just more stressfull than I would like.

P.S It's finally over

Trigger warning:
Suicide

Content warning:
Suididal ideation

Dear J Skittles (age 7-21),

I am writing this letter to us because I couldn't think of anyone I would send a letter like this to. I know that sounds sad that at in my twenties I don't have people to say goodbye to. That's not true though. I had plenty of people to say goodbye to. I Said most of my goodbyes in person. Of course they didn't know but I tried my best to get everyone to resolve anything that they have been holding back. I had a last super of sorts with all my siblings. I sent gifts to people who I said goodbye to but they are going to take this particularly hard.

I want you all to know we lived one heck of a life. We didn't finish our degree but we did start our research on the application of Nano tech in defense. Raytheon, our dream job, bought our research. All of our mentees are doing amazing. We started a non for profit and it has really taken off. We have traveled quite a bit. We went to Mardi Gras. We created a list of GSAs/QSAs in Chicago so that there can be more opportunities for Queer youth. I spent a lot of time really thinking about the life we've lead. I combed through it best I could. We've made mistakes, we let fear get the best of us, we've let pride get in our way, and we've been stubborn. We've loved fearlessly at times and haphazardly the rest of the time, we've been loyal, we've been a great friend, we've been a great mentor and teacher, we've been courageous, we've been bold, we've supported people/ organizations/ movements/ communities, and we've carried ourselves well. We made up with Gordic. We didn't lose Amoriartii, we're just changing. I can't think of anything we've done in our life that I regret now. I think my only regret is I won't get to be there for my closest cousin E. He's 5. He won't know me or remember me. I made a series of videos for him during the summer that I spent with him so that hopefully he will know that I loved him so much.

We are leaving lots of loved ones behind. Our Aunt C, Unlce J, and Cousin Lorn have become our substitute parents. We talk to them more than our actual parents. Our Fairy God Parents are living thier best lives. They make time for us if we ask but they don't check in like they use to. Mom, my dad's wife, my step dad, and Dad are all good health. They are going to hate themselves for not being able to do more but I wrote them something that hopefully makes it easier. Husband #7 is also doing very well. He moved and codes for a living, the pay is excellent. He's really happy. The siblings are all well. Our favorite might be getting married soon. Of course we are leaving behing our Chicago harem of mistresses and husbands. We are leaving our devoted followers of UIUC, Our international Queers, the sterotypical "good gays" of the west coast, our east coast gays, our black and brown babes, and my Space Federation of Genders. More importantly I'm NOT leaving any partners or dependats of any kind behind.

I'm in Brazil. Carnival has just come to a close and the city is returning to normal. Carnival was life changing. The pure joy that takes place during the festival is my second favorite thing about it. My first would be camaraderie, bonding, and love between complete strangers. At carnival if you avoid the tourist crap and go be with the locals you'll find what I'm talking about. During Carnival with them everyone is welcome and we are all one.  This country is so beautiful. The food is everything and more. I've been into the rainforest, what's left of it anyway. Despite humans being awful, the forest is so alive. The rainforest is its own city of animals, plants, and a few indigenous people. There is nothing more natural on land that is better than this. I climbed a tree! I took a canoe down part of the Amazon River. There is so much going on in the waters. I'm not brave enough to swim in it but it is incredibly what you can see just from the surface. The main beaches are always crowed. The lesser known beaches are breath taking. I can smell the salt in the air as soon as I get close. Night walks by the water are things right out of our dreams. The cities are remarkable. I've been to Sõa Paulo and Rio. The suburan and rural of Brazil are also picturesque. I've seen the slums. It is heartbreaking. The people are still so friendly. From a far the slums are aesthetically visually pleasing. However, when you're actually in them its different. Its still quite a sight but your are more aware. Its hard to decribe, from a far its pretty, when your inside there is a humbling and draws the humanity out of you.

I'm still in Brazil, on a cliff over looking the water. We've accomplished thighs we've never dreamed of, never knew existed, never thought we could, and worked hard for. I wanted to graduated and work my dream job, but we didn't get that far. I wanted to have more dogs we won't get that far either. We made it this far, and I for 1 think that's an accomplishment given the circumstances. We are living our dream. I am not afriad, not that I thought I would be. I am at peace for the first time in a long time. I am more than satisfied with the life we've lead and this has been a wondeful final chapter. Our suffering is over. Our pain is over. We will no longer be crushed by other's expectation for us. We will no longer be killing ourselves to try and meet our own unrealistic expectations for ourselves.
Free at last,

J Skittles 202?

This is a letter I will never send because time travel doesn't exist yet. It doesn't look like it will exist by 2030 either. This is why I haven't been to Brazil yet. It is the last place I want to go before I die. I want to die there. That has been the plan since I did a report on Brazil in grade school. Its hard to explain my suicidal ideation. I always want to die. The feeling just varies in intensity. The intent on actually carrying out a plan varies as well. I currently have no intent on going through with this during the '20s. Thus second reason I can't send this letter. Now wanting to die is also different than wanting to kill myself. If we did this on a scale from 1 (little to no desire) to 10 (extreme desire probably all I think about) the break down would go as follows:
Desire to die: 8
Desire to kill myself: 1
Intent on carrying out a plan to commit suicide: 1

That basically means I have little regaurd for my life and won't think twice about engaging in most risky behavior. But I'm leaving it up to chance. I'm not actively seeking out danger, I just don't run from it. I'm not planning to die so I can't send this letter. I'm just wishfully hoping.

Skittles: Dad its depression

I know you want me to go back to college full time next year and finish my degree. I want to. I wish it were that easy. I wish it was as easy to go to school and work as it is for you to see me go spend time with my friends. I know that you think that if I take better care of myself I'll get better. Its not that simple. The problem isn't not wanting to get out of bed. The problem isn't not eating. The problem isn't my daily hygiene. It's not that simple. I know you believe that if I just commit to those few things. Make it a habit that I will magically change. I want to. However, some days getting out of bed is the problem. I know that staying in the bed is usually the problem. Getting out of bed is also a problem. It takes so much energy to shower, brush my teeth, comb my hair, and wear clothes that are clean and not wrinkled. Looking presentable is a war, not a battle, not a fight, not a debate. A war I'm not willing to wage everyday. It requires too many resources that I'm already running low on. Some days, too many days, all that I have in me is to eat, drink water, and take my meds. I can fake it. I can force it. There have been days, where at the cost of my mental health, I left the house. I forfilled my obligations. I spend days, sometimes a couple of weeks, recovering from that damage. But what happens when I have to leave the house before I can fully recover. I dig myself a deeper hole. I get a little worse. Mental health is a slippery slope. I can only go down so far before I'm falling uncontrollably.

I know it's hard for you to understand when I seem like such the socialite. I make plans months in advance already not wanting to go. My social calendar is triple booked everyday. I make so many plans that maybe by chance I'll feel guilty on a day when I have the engery to go out and I'll actually go. I usually wake up not wanting to do anything. I regret going while I'm getting ready. I think about turning back the entire way there. Its so hard to have fun when you feel nothing. Its so hard to have fun when you feel miserable. Its so hard to have fun when you feel like you don't deserve to. Its so hard to have fun when your not sure you have the energy to have fun by the time you get there.

I need to leave the house and do things I know I should enjoy. I need to leave the house and be with people who understand me. I need to leave the house and be with people don't know I have depression, and treat me like a real person. I need to leave the house and be with people who enjoy my company. I need to leave the house and be with people who care about me. I need to leave the house to remind myself that I'm not alone. I leave and people understand. I need to leave the house to play an active role in my life. I need to leave the house to prove to myself it's worth being alive.

I know you love me, I know mom loves me. But neither of you help me emotionally. You don't understand and most of the time you make it worse. That's okay.

So, No, I'm not going back to school next year. For now I can only handle two classes at a time. I am taking three right now and my mental health is the worst its ever been. I had psychotic break in class. See the thing is it's hard to recover when you keep experiencing the same trauma. I know I'm not alone here. I wasn't down there either. I know I have a treatment team here. I had one down there as well. I also had Myles and I don't have him here. I know its hard for you to understand. It was not just the school, the location, my disdain for being there, the program, or the size. It was the fact that it was too much for me to handle. It's still too much for me to handle. It is like when a women who was beaten by her partner leaves the living situation. She starts treatment and slowly begins to get better. What about when she goes back to work? They run a business together and it is going to take the time to buy out her ex. Instead of extreme phyical assault it might be verbal abuse or minor phyical assault. How do you heal from the thing that keeps traumatizing you? This is not me saying I'm done with school. I'm going to take 2 classes at a time until I'm done or can do better. I'm going to finish one day. I'm not quiting it just needs to be on my terms.

I know you think I'm misguided with a little energy that I do have. "All you do is get on planes." I know you think I'm running away from my life. That I'm avoiding my problems. I'm not. Did you know that when I get on planes that the only time I do laundry? I wash my clothes, my sheets, the towels. When I get on a plane that might be the first time in months that I've changed my sheets. That there aren't dirty clothes on my floor. That I took the time to fold everything and put it away.  Did you know I always go see my doctors before I leave? Especially if I'm going aboard. I might not get a physical unless I'm planning to leave the country. Did you know I get my teeth whitened and I go to the dentist around my conference schedule? I almost didn't go this fall because my fall conference got cancelled. Did you know I get a new pair of glasses for my new year's eve outfit? Did you know I buy new underwear before my summer trips? Did you know that I wake up at a reasonable hour when I'm traveling? Do you know that I have the best hygiene when I'm gone? I shower everyday,  brush my teeth,  do my hair. If I happen to get too sweaty or dirty while I'm out I come home and I take another shower. That I wash my hair before every trip? Did you know that before I went to go see my friend for that movie night and I had not gotten a good night sleep in a month? Did you know when I'm away I usually only need 8.5 hours of sleep and I feel rested instead of 10 and still feeling dead? Did you know that that night I slept exactly 8 hours and I woke up feeling alive. I woke up without an alarm. Did you know I actually eat when I'm away? I actually eat healthy when I'm away. I rarely have fast food when I'm visiting friends. We usually don't go out to eat I love to cook for my friends. They buy the groceries but I make sure we have a healthy meal, that means lots of vegetables. Did you know we buy fruit for snacks while were're at the grocery store? I seem to only eat fruits when I'm gone. Did you know I hardly ever experience symptoms while I'm away? When I do it feels like a cat sitting on my lap istead of a mountain crushing me. They always subside after I get my day going. Its not me powering through despite the symptoms. The symptoms actually go away. Did you know that I normally return from a trip recharged? I not only feel better while I'm gone but for a while, after I get back, minus conferences. I use to travel every other month-ish for three or four days. 9 times out of 10 I returned better, the 1 being a confernce. Did you know I'm not running from life I'm trying to live it? I found this made my home life, school work, and work better. I'm not escaping, I'm self medicating.

I know you don't understand. I don't get all of it either. I wish I could explain. I don't have the words. I look in the mirror and I don't know who I am anymore. I recognize my physical appearance but it's not me. I don't know this person that I've become. I don't know if I'm still there most of the time. My illness has taken over. I'm zombie. I should be dead. I feel like part of me died. Now I'm just stumbling through life trying to survive. Trying to bring what's left of me back from the dead. It would be easy to say I'm fighting this illness that has taken over my body, killed part of me, and is trying to finish off the job. However, this illness hasn't always been so nasty and demented. I recognize it. Its me. I have always wanted to die. One of my earliest memories is of me crying in my room, I think I'm about 7. I am in the smallest nook I could find. I am crying myself to sleep after a beating from mom. I am saying my nightly prayer, "Now I lay me down to sleep. I pray to Lord my soul to keep." I changed it though, "Please let me die before I wake. I commit my soul willingly for the Lord to take." I prayed to die. When I still prayed regularly I prayed to die all the time. I have wanted to die since I was at least 7.  I don't know why. But this longing is as familiar to me as my own name or my asthmatic lungs. I've never known life without it. I don't know if I can be cured from myself.

I know you want me to get better. I do to. I miss being happy. I miss my emotions not wreaking havoc on my life. I miss not being anxious, and just picking because I was bored and fixating because of the adderall. I miss being able to exist in the quiet. I have not experienced silence without doing something for longer than I can remember. I used to love sitting outside listening to the wind. I used to talk to the wind. I could just be alone with my own thoughts. My mind is now a scary place that I haven't visited for a long time. I miss feeling rested. I miss feeling alive. I miss enjoying things. I miss having energy. I miss being curious. I miss talking to you. I know I still can but it's not the same. I talked to you about my interest I need to have interest again. I miss having passion, drive, and motivation. I miss my will to do things just because I wanted to. I miss being empathic. All I can feel now is myself and I'm done with that. I know you want me to live trust me I miss living.