#(but also. billing insurance is a fucking nightmare I do not blame her I UNDERSTAND)

[emordnilapxpalindrome]

I had a phone consultation with an adhd specialist today!!!!!!! I’m getting tested!!!!!!!!!!!!! I might actually get a dx!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! I am healing I am growing I am getting better!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

#she was a uni counselor I saw freshman year. and the only mh pro that has taken me seriously when I’ve said I was pretty sure I had adhd #she just couldn’t do anything about it bc the university didn’t offer testing. just counseling #but now she has her own practice!!!!!!!!!!!!!! #she doesn’t do insurance so I will not be seeing her regularly because money oof #but she’s??? making me a list???? of other therapists in town?????? #who accept my insurance AND treat adhd specifically AND are well versed in trans issues #shoutout to her she’s fucking fantastic and I am genuinely bummed that she doesn’t accept insurance #(but also. billing insurance is a fucking nightmare I do not blame her I UNDERSTAND) #(if I ever get back on the addictions counseling path my GOD I hope I end up working in a school or something of the like) #(so that I don’t fucking have to bill insurance) #anyway #personal #neurodivergent #neurodivergency #adhd

[pinashple]

It’s 3:44 in the morning, and I started crying.

At random times, unpredictable and possibly not even triggered by a specific event, my mind starts wandering. It wanders to the furthest reaches, the deepest recesses of my memories that I have consistently tried to block and bury from resurfacing...

Just so I can be happy in my life.

I’ve been surrounded by so much negativity. I’ve been subjected to so much negativity. So much negativity has been projected on me, and this started at eleven years old. Some of it from classmates, or so called friends, and failed relationships...but most of it has been, because of my family. Or more specifically- my father.

I grew up with a father who was volatile. He was toxic. He was abusive- emotionally, at first, physically came next, and then assumed a verbal role as well. More times than not, all of this was directed towards me.

My father was unhappy with my mother in their marriage- I happened to be born the year before they tied the knot. I still believe they stayed together to have that picture perfect-esque family, and I suffered the most from it.

My father suffered the repercussions of the stock market crash in the 2000s- I was forced to get a job the day of my 16th birthday, and then pay for my own stuff, including the $490 for driver’s ed that he- once again- forced me to go to. One day on the way back, he made me drive home in a truck I wasn’t comfortable in, yelling at me once again, instead of realizing car accidents are my number one fear in life. I didn’t care to drive; I- to this day, almost 11 years later- still have to keep myself from having a panic attack while driving; I really don’t go anywhere, because of it. 

And even though I went through that experience, and became more comfortable? He wouldn’t let me drive his or my mother’s car after I became comfortable and wanted to hang out with friends. (He also didn’t want me to have friends.) “Accidents can happen, and I’m not trying to risk that.” If my mom would let me go somewhere in her car? While I was out, he would call, and tell me come right back. It didn’t matter if I just got there- I had to come back, and proceeded to get yelled at more. Oh, but if he needed me to go to the store and pick up things for him, he’d let me drive.

During my sixteenth year, I was going through a pretty rough time emotionally; he told me, “I don’t care about your personal life.” 

...Til this day, 11 years later, I haven’t told my dad anything about my personal life.

My father had this vision of what he wanted my life to be, obsessed with monetary gain; I had an opposite mindset, wanting a simpler life, and to be happy, which he did not agree with.

I didn’t get a senior year, because of my father: I missed two assignments in an AP class, and though I had a high B, I was put on punishment for the entire semster...and it was only the fourth week in August. I lost out on senior activities, because of it. Football games, I didn’t go to, even though I was apart of the spirit squad- one of the few activities I would have loved after the only game I got to participate. I had to beg to go to homecoming, and that was after I had another mental breakdown, trying to confide in him; his solution was I shouldn’t go anywhere outside of the house, unless with family. 

My father is the reason I didn’t get the HOPE scholarship, missing it by a tenth of a point; instead of listening to me when I said I didn’t understand calculus, he claimed I wasn’t using my “full potential”-

It was the first math class I EVER failed in 13 years of grade school. (I always had As and high Bs). This came after I got cursed at, spit on while being cursed at; my phone taken, and put on punishment yet again for the remainder of the school year, and a phone a friend gave me shattered right in front of me, because “give me the fucking phone.”

I almost didn’t even graduate high school with a College Prep Diploma, and had to bust my ass taking a second homeschool math class to make up the credit; he then had to expedite the grading results, so I could.

I was forced to go to college three hours away with no job, no money, and no car, because the school I wanted to go to, he wouldn’t even pay the application fee for me. “I’ll pay for any other school- not that one, though.” You know what? I had the worst experience of my life at that school after four months of being there; it sent me into a downward spiral, emotionally lost and confused, I called home having another mental breakdown, and was thankfully able to come home...

I would regret that.

My father took the opportunity to blame me for the “lack of cleanliness” and the “peace being disturbed in the house” as soon as I got home, though I was taking the train to get to school downtown and had a part time job. I was rarely home, and if I was, I stayed in my room. I only “made a mess”, because when I left for college the first time, they no longer had one person to clean a family of five’s worth of dishes after dinner. A family of five’s laundry to wash and fold. A family of five’s bathrooms to clean- he no longer had a maid when I left. They had to clean for themselves those four months I was gone; they attempted to stop once I came back.

The “peace in the house being disturbed”? Simply because I was there. You know that saying, “out of sight, out of mind?” Didn’t work for my father, when it came to me. I may have been out of sight, but he knew I was there; that was enough for him.

I thought getting a car would help me stay out more; without knowing that, he found me one. I was so happy; it was mine, I could go when I wanted, come when I wanted, and not have to hear anyone’s mouth. I had a job; I had to pay my own insurance and car note, so nothing could be said, right?

He gave me a curfew. I had never had a curfew, especially not at 19, until I got my own car. Ironic. If he didn’t know I came home, and was in my room in the basement? I’d get calls. Okay.

I had a cell phone; I ended up falling on hard times at my job, and asked my mom to loan me money for the bill- she called my dad. I then got a reality check that my car was actually not mine, and it was his, and my car note I had been working to pay was me paying back a loan to him.

He never told me that when I first signed the papers, and because I was “paying him back”:

“If you come asking me for money for the note or the insurance, it’s gone.”

Til this day, nine years later, and even before then since sixteen- I haven’t asked my dad for any type of help financially.

I’d always been silenced; never been able to stand up for myself. Never been listened to, and never been comforted. 

I’d been beat with belts since middle school; put on whole semester punishments since the seventh grade- no phone, no tv, no computer and the like over a missed assignment, and in some cases, for having a B. I’d been chokeheld in high school; yelled at on any random occasion for whatever reason he was upset with. I’ve been chased up the stairs just so I could be beat relentlessly after trying to defend myself. And in 2010, I was slammed on the kitchen floor, to the kitchen counter, to the dishwasher, being screamed “I’m gonna kill you” at for letting two pots dry in the sink. 

I left in November of 2010. 

There’s so much more to this story...but at the end of the day, I spent majority of my early-mid twenties a broken...mess. My mom has been present my entire life; she turned a blind eye to it all to keep her own peace...sided along with him a number of times, to keep her own peace with him. 

As a result? I let people treat me how they wanted to, and stayed around, because I didn’t want to be alone. I contemplated suicide, but was too afraid to take my own life. I made horrible decisions for someone my age at that time, and looked for some type of love and belonging somewhere. I spent majority of my early adulthood depressed; nothing EVER worked out for me. I have anxiety, because of it. I have paranoia, because of it. I’ve woken up sweating, breathing hard, and heart racing from nightmare about my father trying to hurt me. My mind has always gone to the worst thing possible first, because for all that time in my life, I was miserable- truthfully and honestly miserable. Felt worthless. A waste of a life. Cursed. Doomed. Anything negative you can say and feel about yourself, that was me.

Why did I type all of this? Mostly for venting, because I currently live in a household with my father now. Things may not be as horrible as they were before- horrible at all- and only, because he “learned from his mistakes”. I don’t benefit from it; I still can’t ask for help financially, because in his words:

“You got a partner for that.”

I couldn’t even ask him about getting me a deal on a new phone; my family is on a shared plan, and everyone has gotten 2 new phones since 2014- I’ve had the same one...since 2014. He didn’t even give me the opportunity to say “I’m going to pay for it,” before my partner’s name shot out his mouth. I’m no longer his responsibility, in other words. Oh...but my sister’s are living the champagne lifestyle from what he “learned” with all his “mistakes” with me, and I just have to...accept it.

Why else did I type all of this? Because I realized while I was laying down why I’m so afraid I won’t get anywhere with my art career. It takes people acknowledging you, wanting to connect with you, give you a chance, and valuing your work that gets you somewhere...

My issues with my father- somewhere in me- makes me feel like that will NEVER happen for me. If I suffered so much from someone who was supposed to protect and provide, love and care for...cherish me? 

How could I expect anyone else to do that? 

It’s hard to stay positive...but one thing I will say-

I refuse to let my past win. I wish I could talk and get the closure I always hoped to have, but that is more of a pipe dream than me winning the lottery. Every attempt I’ve made resulted in, “you made it hard on yourself.”

I don’t think anyone who is as shy, insecure, and self conscious as I was in those years could possibly make all the trauma they endured brought on by “themself”; they got taken advantage of, and it shows...

But I’m praying that I can let all of this go. I pray that I can do what I love. I pray that I can have my career. I pray that I can start driving with confidence. I pray that I can be positive. I pray that I can be myself, and be loved for myself. I pray that I can be understood. I pray that I can be happy...

It’s all I’ve ever wanted in life. /4:53am

PS. If you read this? Do not reblog it; it’ll more than likely be private by tomorrow.

#text #long post #personal #tw:abuse

[king-derpintosh]

I’m not going to say what I have to tomorrow without clearing up a few things first, and I have a long ass essay written here for those who want to read a manchild rant.

I acted the way I did(and no I’m not justifying this because even I know I was 200% wrong) out of the stress and anxiety a lot of things around me were causing. I’m someone in his mid-twenties who took his sweet time to find any kind of independence, and since last year has been trying to find what it will take me to be on my own. I’ve been harassed and threatened these last few months by my family because I’ll be needing to take care of more bills such as my health insurance starting this month.

My current and soon to be over retail job was a nightmare. Having bad experience with customers was expected, but topped with angry managers breathing down our necks about quotas I was trying to fill didn’t make it better. My family provided no sympathy, and the friends I associated were my way out with the games we played and just hanging out in general. Unfortunately, I’m an immature piece of shit who held back his problems because in past and many current experiences was told to “suck it up” or some variant of this. It was difficult, and yet it doesn’t excuse me from that behavior. It’s so difficult to find where and how to find some sort of peace when my self worth was being put to an all-time low.

Which leads me to the last and important part to this wall of text; my feelings for my ex with which we tried to remain friends after multiple attempts. Before this recent disaster I had a problematic experience with the person before her, but when I found the energy to move on I tried to keep in mind that this new person may not be the right one either and to not burn bridges as a way to mature myself. Two months fly by and personal issues become the reason she breaks things off. I tried to bargain briefly before accepting that and doing what I could to move on. I did what I could to put those feelings behind me for the brief time after. 

For nearly two more months we didn’t have romantic feelings interfere with our fun and remained those good friends. Relationship attempt two comes along in the form of her asking me out at the beginning of December. Liking who she is, I accepted and let my guard down more. This fell through rather quickly due to the same personal issues, but they weren’t any less valid than they were before. Within the following week we were back to our usual shenanigans.

From here this is where blame shifts solely onto myself and I can accept that I royally fucked up, I can publicly admit I’m a huge jackass. February rolls around, and she encounters a massive problem with a new person she was trying to date. I was unaware of it all until Valentine’s Day when she needed friends to comfort her. At first I wanted her to feel better, but as days past I started to feel shitty. I was letting my feelings bleed through and I was debating on cutting her off as a friend because it hurt to know what happened(partly due to how it was subtly thrown at me before shit hit the fan for her). Again, huge jackass, I know and I was in the wrong. We didn’t stop talking, because I didn’t want to lose her as a friend, and she needed friends at the time. 

Weeks pass into March and things are the same as they were before any relationship related disaster. The final week of March rolls around and she has a confession of her feelings and how she wanted to move past those personal problems which stopped us before. Again, my weak ass accepted. One last month together goes by and our plans begin to interfere with her family’s plans, which in turn reveal what we were going to do. She falls under a ton of stress and had to choose between me or her family, and she chose the right thing. I knew this at the time and to this day don’t disagree with her feelings about it. But here’s where things become a mess.

From April until the beginning of this month I reach an all-time low of many qualities of my person. My family was harassing me more than usual to “find a way to move out” and “Get a real job”. I also let my guard down so low on my feelings for this friend that it hurt to watch her move on, again. I clung on to that hope that there might be another chance, and a few weeks after the breakup I came into a lucrative investment with my friends in the form of a marketing app we developed. I saw this as an opportunity to shrug off the problems with my family, but also as a means to say “I might be able to close the literal and metaphorical gaps between us with this.”. That thought was a dream that should’ve died the moment I thought of it, but I held on thinking if this investment works and she declines my attempt to bring things back, then there’s nothing I can do and just move on. 

May turns to June and these two months I struggle with so many emotions and personal issues. My feelings with her mixed with my problems with the biggest game we both played online. My family in many ways wants to and had alienated me, work was stressing me out more than usual, and I wanted to defog my head from my issues with our last break up. Nothing good happened, and I spiraled into a passive aggressive person; to my friends and my family. But more importantly I would end up making this friend uncomfortable and upset between my outbursts of “I miss you”’s or just being overall frustrated. I felt bad and and still do, but that doesn’t change that it happened and that I fucked up our dynamic. This was on me and I knew this, but I was in a destructive cycle with more than just her friendship, but it always came back to this.

It’s July, and I’ve caused so many problems between us that she’s blocked me from all forms of social media as a means to detox. I took the first week before she cut me off as time to rethink how I’ve acted. I can’t have feelings for someone who genuinely couldn’t see it in us anymore, and I wanted to prove that to myself so that we could stay friends. As this wall of text proves, I clearly didn’t make that deadline. I regret things in full bloom, which again feels like a dick move because I had in the past but now have time away from her to fully grasp my situation. I made this problem, and now I’ve lost a good friend. t

Tomorrow the 10th is a very big deal to her, something I wasn’t the more reassuring person for the job when she needed a shoulder to lean on. Her association with this day is more important than my bullshit, and I’m not saying this to be aggressive or play myself down; I wholeheartedly agree with her feelings on this. But that doesn’t mean I don’t have condolences to share on the issue.

In closing(and if your read this far, fucking god bless your soul. Shit, dude) I went from okay to absolutely wrong within the time span of about 9 months. I can’t undo the pain I caused her, but I can fully grasp the situation that things are over. I can’t love someone who detests me this much, let alone the asshole I had been in hindsight. But I can accept trying to rebuild our friendship for real this time, if she believes any word I could say now. I still see her as my friend, and I’d be doing another disservice to myself if I didn’t grow from the relationship before her and mend my problems with once-romantic partners rather than burn bridges. I want her back as nothing more than my friend, and I mean this. I can accept that we’re past this too, after the damage I caused. I struggled to cope with this fact, but as of the last few days I’ve grown to be comfortable with my mistakes. So Beka, if you’re reading this, do understand that I’m sorry for all the things I’ve done, for the times I wasn’t the friend you needed, for ruining one of your favorite games. But I most importantly regret not listening to your problems more because of the shit that kept ringing in my head. I’m a piece of shit, and will always believe I am even as I make strides to improve myself. Don’t take my lack of self-worth as a hit to your integrity as a person or my friend. You were there when I needed a friend the most last year, and I’m still grateful for the fun we had on this run. I’ll always be here to rebuild our friendship if you still believe there’s still a friend in me.

Thank you.  

#This essay was a wild fucking ride #Beka #I know you still check my blog #If there's anything I want you to see #please take the time to read this through #Things aren't any easier but I've been coming to terms with my failures #It's life but more importantly the one I made for myself #I need to be mature no matter what happens #God there's never enough words I could say so much more #There's so much that went on that I don't know if I really did this justice #personal