#It's not my job to educate you awful people on my disability

[pxppet]

No more Jameson neutrality, if you write/draw Jameson as a naïve cutesy helpless baby-of-the-family that communicates through ~slides~ or ~telepathy~ or ~mind projections~ I hate you personally and you are actively contributing to ableism and misinformation about nonspeaking & mute people in this fanbase. Educate and examine yourself.

#ableism in fandom #jameson jackson #jacksepticeye community #I don't want to do this ugh #I keep seeing newer fans do this shit PLEASE stop #It's not my job to educate you awful people on my disability #So just stop and educate yourself!! #I saw someone caption their art as *cute mute noises* and I just wanted to hit something #MUTE PEOPLE ARE A REAL FUCKING THING! WE EXIST AND THESE THINGS ARE DAMAGING #HE CANONICALLY SPEAKS BSL! STOP RUINING EVERYTHING FOR DISABLED PEOPLE! #writersofjack #writers of jack #jacksepticeye fanart #septicart #jacksepticeye #jacksepticeye egos

[ciaraloves]

people who have no ambition scare me. and I don’t mean “you don’t want to be a millionaire and own three companies and be a real estate mogul oh my god get away from me how dare you”

I mean you don’t want to do anything to make your future self happy and comfortable? you don’t want to study? fine studying isn’t for everyone. you don’t want to work in corporate or retail or in a “job space”? fine that isn’t for everyone.

but you don’t even want to find something to do? no come on. not volunteer? fund yourself to travel? literally just own an apartment or a house some day? take up an activity just to see if you like it? cook and or bake because how good are you at it really? start painting and see what mess you can make?

you love animals but you hate to study? maybe try volunteering at an animal shelter and seeing what connections you can make. I don’t know bro why don’t you want to make yourself fall in love with doing stuff?

like capitalism is awful and the need to have money to do anything is completely overwhelming but the fact that you don’t WANT to do anything? that’s terrifying.

#sorry I’m just ranting #please ignore this I really am not trying to make anyone feel bad! #this espeiclaly doesn’t apply to neurodivergenr and disabled people who are fighting a million battles every day that no one else can see #I really am just #I have a friend….person I know🤕…… who doesn’t want to do anything #and it’s like??????? #like I want to keep furthering my education #my brother wants to play soccer so he works fucking hard at it #my dad who didn’t get a college degree has done a million different certifications for his field so he’s always on top of things #he hates to study but he wanted to be good and compete et at his job #I’m not saying force yourself to do what you hate in order to start doing something you love #im just saying find something you love or can tolerate at least and just try to get into it ? #am I being rude and awful ? #ugh I don’t know! I feel so unempthatic and mean when I say things like this #because I’m like ‘ciara you don’t know what battles people are facing so stop telling them what to do’ #but I honestly don’t mean this in a ‘everyone should want to work and attempt wealth gain’ kind of way #I mean this in a ‘you have to find something you like to do and learn to do it so that you can give your futures self that joy & security’ #fndjlaldpndlwkdmqlqjw just ignore me I’m fine I’m cool I’m fine #ciara’s convos #ciara’s therapist corner

[turtle-paced]

what do you make of shae? i get that she had to hedge her bets but i feel like she was needless cruel when she told everyone tyrion’s nickname, i dont understand why she did that if she cared even a little about him. even so though she ofc didnt deserve to be brutally murdered by her lover regardless of what she did or didnt do.

I think she's a not very nice person in a not very nice position. It's one of my favourite things about the series - we have so many characters who do awful things, but the compassion is still there. The system that made their lives so difficult and treated them so poorly is in GRRM's sights, far more than blaming the individual.

In Shae's case, she's a teenage girl with no money, no education, no social standing, nothing but her looks. On that basis one of the wealthiest men in Westeros had her brought to his bed for a job as his girlfriend. He didn't pay her in money or jewels. Instead he jerked her around, getting her jobs as a full-time carer for a disabled noblewoman and so forth so she could do that girlfriend job, for which he still wasn't giving her cash or goods she could exchange for cash. And then he got in trouble with people even more powerful than him.

I don't think Shae cared about Tyrion as a person, which is why she could get up on the stand and spill all the juicy gossip about what Tyrion liked to be called in bed. It is cruel of her. And Shae's circumstances are horrible, through no fault of her own. Both are true at the same time.

#asoiaf #valyrianscrolls #tyrion lannister #a storm of swords

[nothorses]

So have you ever like. Talked to people that were homeschooled? Or did you just read one story online about a cult homeschooling their kids and went "fuck this is awful public school is so much better"?

I was homeschooled until 5th grade and then sent to public school. I lasted until 7th grade before I had to fucking beg my parents to homeschool me again. I was literally waking up for school in the mornings and immediately having a mental breakdown. I was constantly trying to fake being sick so I didn't have to go.

Homeschooling was SO much fucking better. I didn't have to sleep in jeans and a bra and t-shirt so that I was already dressed when I woke up, just so I had time to eat a small bowl of cereal before being forced to leave.

I didn't have to worry about classmates making fun of me behind my back, or my "friends" insulting me or going out of their way to embarass me in front of my crushes.

I didn't have to worry about having a cold or the flu or my period and being forced to go to school and be miserable all day covered in blood and snot.

I didn't have to worry about being given lunch detention because I forgot one book (probably because I have memory issues from severe ADHD)

I didn't have to worry about being overwhelmed with homework. I didn't have to worry about my teachers or classmates making me feel like a fucking idiot because I couldn't do math (wow turns out I have a severe learning disability that somehow no one noticed).

I didn't have to worry about being forced to run the pacer test in gym and not being allowed to rest, resulting in me throwing up.

You can't tell people "omg just because YOU had a bad time in school doesn't mean you're allowed to dislike it!!! Not all public school is bad!"

and then turn around and go "Homeschooling is awful it's just a bunch of religious bigot cultists teaching their children how to be bigots and children never getting to go out and socialize with their peers!!!"

All I learned from public school was:

Keep my fucking mouth shut, do not speak unless spoken to

Don't do anything "weird" or "different" (AKA show signs of having autism)

If you don't stay in school and go to college (AKA put yourself in thousands of dollars of debt in exchange for a piece of paper that doesn't actually guarantee you a job) then you'll die in a ditch somewhere

Don't even bother trying to make friends, they'll just treat you like shit

I was never taught anything useful that I couldn't have just learned by myself at home. I was never taught how to pay bills or what a mortgage is or how to grow my own food or raise my own animals for meat or how credit cards work or how to take care of myself after my parents die.

Public school is there to terrorize children and destroy them mentally until they conform to what society wants, so that they become the perfect unquestioning unthinking cogs in the machine that will work until they die.

It's there to make money for colleges because kids are never taught about trade jobs or making their own businesses/companies, they're taught that college is the be all end all and if you don't go there (and give them your time and money) then you'll become homeless and die.

It doesn't teach you how to think for yourself, it teaches you to shut the fuck up and obey or be punished.

I'm sorry you had that experience with public school, genuinely- and I know you aren't the only one, and this is honestly something I feel really passionate about. Like, actually; a big motivator for getting my Master's in Ed- and likely my Ph.D in Ed after this- has been that it positions me to get involved in a way that I can make larger changes than most classroom teachers might be able to influence.

I'm also really glad that homeschool was a positive thing for you! And I don't believe in outlawing homeschool or anything either; I do think it needs more regulation and resources, and I think there needs to be a wider array of options overall, but like. Given how education has historically been weaponized against indigenous communities to carry out cultural genocide (in the form of boarding schools), I think any laws against homeschooling would just end up repeating that same history.

But like, you can't ignore that homeschool has absolutely been used as a tool of abuse, too. And you can't ignore that abusive families and home environments exist, and you can't just... refuse to acknowledge the push from the conservative right to de-regulate homeschooling & break down public ed in order to further empower them to isolate and brainwash kids.

Hell, you wanna talk about how kids are taught to stop thinking, stop talking, and follow orders? Take a little day trip to a fundamentalist homeschooling network sometime.

You talk about public ed like it's this homogeneously evil entity designed for, and only capable of, abusing kids. But you wanna know what?

My family is abusive! My upbringing was abusive!

And sure, there's a chance they may have been able to pay for private school or something if public school had not been an option- for a few years, anyway. But that's because my grandparents have money, and because my mom was just neglectful enough to want me out of her hair.

I went to three elementary schools, two middle schools, and four high schools. All of those were public schools. Some of them sucked more than others, but all of them offered me:

An escape from home that I needed so desperately that, for a long time, I extended by hiding out at the public library for an extra 3+ hours.

Reliable lunches, even when my mom wouldn't pay for them.

Adults that I could trust, and did trust.

Adult role models and examples of a better future, especially in the queer adults that taught me.

Social connections, one of which was with a current roommate and my best friend.

Directly applicable knowledge and skills: cooking, online research and internet safety, everything I know about safe sex, finances, how to do my taxes, basic governmental structure, local, national, and world history, basic court proceedings, how to navigate colleges/university, (some) critical literacy & critical thinking skills, social-emotional learning, (some) critical race theory...

An array of options for different paths into an adult career: understanding (some) options like trade schools, community college, university, and the military (gross), and why I might choose one of those options vs. going straight into work.

Examples of and exposure to different & diverse ways of being, from home lives, to cultures, to queerness, to experiences I would never have firsthand.

Like, I have definitely grown up in pretty progressive areas & school districts, and that's a big part of it (though the conservative-leaning school I went to was also the school where my creative writing teacher read us a short story that he wrote about some gay star-crossed truckers).

These schools exist, and these experiences exist, and it's silly to dismiss them out of hand because your one stint into public school once was a nightmare.

And it's worse to dismiss the resource that these places are to so many families & kids. It's free childcare, it's one sure meal every day, it's community, it's exposure to diversity.

The practical alternative to that, for a lot of poor families, is child labor.

You don't have to like public education. I certainly have mixed feelings on it, and understanding & addressing the deep-seated problems in it are, like, the cornerstone of my life's work at this point.

What you should do, imo, is learn to recognize when you might not have all the context and information you need to make a judgement call like "destroy public education forever", look around at the people saying what you're saying & why they might be saying it, and perhaps consider listening to the people who have already been doing the work you've assumed is impossible.

#education #I dont know what yall are trying to do here #this is my full-time WHOLE LIFE dude! #like I love talking about it but why are you approaching this like you know more than anyone else does? #lets talk like adults!!!

[confessions-official]

i hate the way i was treated as a kid. i hate that teachers punished and isolated and ridiculed me when i had outbursts instead of trying to get me help or bring me the comfort and love i was missing at home. i hate that me being in severe mental distress was treated as a "tantrum". i hate that adults acted scared of me when I WAS A TRAUMATIZED KID. i hate that my classmates made fun of me when I WAS IN SEVERE EMOTIONAL PAIN and that no one talked to them about treating me well. i hate my teacher in high school who contacted my prefect when i had a meltdown in her class, exposing me and making me feel horrible, and my prefect who only stared at me coldly as i sat on the bathroom floor sobbing, not trying to comfort me or understand me, just waiting my meltdown out so she could escort me back to class. i hate the greedy politicians who leave education borderline unfinanced so that none of the adults in school who were supposed to be looking after me ever wanted to do more than the bare minimum at their jobs, because they're barelt getting paid anyway. i hate my music teacher who got skeptical and overcritical of my spelling when i wrote a song in a foreign language at age 6. i know if all these people had known i was dealing with trauma and the starting signs of a personality disorder, they'd feel awful. i was sent to progressive schools who "accomodated" for disability. but people still treat others who exhibit textbook symptoms of mental illness like shit, make no mistake. even the most progressive people only think it's "wrong" if you're diagnosed; until then, it's fair game to call people weird, complicated, dramatic, crazy, because they "don't have a mental illness", so surely it's their fault they act out of the norm and they have control over their actions so it's okay to shame them. but even when you get a diagnosis all it does is make those people feel guilty for the way they treat/have treated you (no, they will not learn to treat you with kindness and grace, they'll just feel guilty that they don't), oh and also now the state is legally allowed to be violent towards you, because you are a "threat" even though yoh are statistically more likely to be the one being abused/harmed. Yayyyyy psychiatry

 

#confession

[invincible-selfxmade-punk]

Big Year wrap up post / things that I'm thankful for

Every year is a year of ups and downs or at least that's pretty universal. I don't think anyone ever has a year or everything is completely good or completely bad.

The good was plentiful for me this year.

I remember back when I was in Corpus Christi and I had read the book The Secret and I started out making my list of what I wanted for my life.

The list went something like this #1. A teaching job.

#2. an actual house with a front and back door and a yard, #3 was $30,000 in the bank.

I don't know where I came up with that number it was just a number I thought would be a good financially stable number.

I have had a teaching job for the last 6 years.

I have had a house for the last 2 years.

And I'm still working on that number but at least I do have a savings account that I'm not constantly having to dip into. And this year I finally was gifted a washing machine by someone at work. I still don't know who did it but they were incredibly hind. It only works on one cycle but it works and that has saved us so much time and money. Being Mobility challenged it was horrible looking clothes to and from the laundromat. Plus trying to cough up the money each time we needed to do laundry was another problem. I am still in awe of the fact that if I need to do a small load of clothes I can just go and do them and be done with it. We have a clothesline in the backyard and honestly that is all we need.

Work has been a bit dicey this year but it is not because of the kids it is more because of the parents and the administration. And I don't really see that changing so I must figure out ways to deal with it.

The parents are getting younger and less educated and do not understand some of the things I say into in class. Which means I need to mask myself even tighter than ever.

That is one of the few things that really sucks about this year and the last couple of years as far as my autism.

At one point I had so many people on staff that I could absolutely be myself with and they were okay with it. One by one though those people left because this isn't the greatest school system to work for. The principals tend to back the parents and not the teachers and there is absolutely no discipline whatsoever in any of the schools.

The kids know this and the parents know this so especially if the parent is Rich or a part of the school system the kid gets to do whatever they want with no consequences.

And this is scared a lot of the yòd teachers away.

I am NOT young and I'm slightly disabled because of my vision and my lack of Mobility so I suck it up because I can't go anywhere else at this point.

I want to retire to another place but as far as a job this is really the only one I'm capable of doing.

I guess it's a part of being autistic that if you see something that's wrong you want to call it out. At least that is the way it is with me. And from that now you really can't do that without getting in trouble. Everyone knows what's wrong and no one wants to fix it. People just want to turn them line die. I made that mistake about three three years ago with my previous principal. When she said there was an open door policy I believed it like an idiot and or for the record if someone says there is an open door POLICY THERE IS NOT AND YOU WILL JEOPARDIZE YOUR JOB BY BELIEVING IT.

For speaking out about anything I thought was unfair, she got me alone and absolutely eviscerated me. She brought up all kinds of petty little things having to do with my work ethic that no one else would have ever called out, she called me unprofessional, she called me hard to work with, and she gave me the worst Job review I have had in 45 years of working.

To this day I have nightmares about that and her the same way I had nightmares of my abusive stepmother that I was subjected to for 7 years. Only the principal did that much emotional damage in 2 hours.

So yes having the masks so tightly at work does suck but it is a job and it is the first time in my life that I have not had to work multiple jobs in order to support myself.

And of course the credit for all of this goes to God because I could not have done any of this of my own free will. I am weak and I am scared and I am full of every Neurosis in the world so whatever strength that I have come to know throughout my life definitely was god-given. I utilized it and I made my own but it had to come from God first. And speaking of that

My 11th eye surgery was a success. I had a corneal transplant and it has been going wonderfully thank god. Right now I am just waiting for the surgeon to tell me I can go ahead and renew my prescription. He has been very picky and says that my eye would change so much throughout the year there was no use getting a new prescription because I would have to throw it out in 6 months anyway. But I would have been willing to do that if I could have just been able to see better with my classes. Right now aside from driving I don't even wear them because my eyes have changed so much and now I can't see anything with my glasses at all. Getting around town, and thank God this is an extremely small town, I feel like I do more from muscle memory anyway. I have no one to drive me so I kind of have to do this.

But thank God I can see!!!

Other than that hubby and I have been healthy all this year and thank God for that.

Of the bad things I have had to survive the big two that weigh on me the most is losing two people I loved very dearly. One I knew my entire life and she was like a second mom to me. I still dream about her constantly. She died at 8:00 if 93 and she had a wonderful life and was surrounded by children and grandchildren and great-grandchildren and we did get to talk on the phone right before she died and that was a blessing. Even knowing I couldn't see for crap I still drove 3 hours out and 3 hours back to her funeral and God bless me I made it only with God's care. It was scary going.

The other one is my friend Ben who took his own life a few months ago. It is so hard for me not to be mad at his ex-girlfriend because I believe her breaking up with him after 10 years directly led to his suicide. But we are not responsible for the actions of others. Many people reached out to ben, myself and a couple of teachers who worked with us that now have moved on reached out to him constantly. I thought at least he had talked to them they thought he had talked to me and he did not talk to any of us.

It wasn't out of the blue thing. He was always very depressed and very sensitive. And he would make posts on Facebook about being alone and not having friends and not having anyone that understood him. And with each of these posts I would reach out to him and tell him I loved him and I wanted to talk and I was always there and nine times out of 10 he would not reach back out to me. It had been 8 months since we had spoken or since he had taken me up on one of my offers to talk and at the time he killed himself. It was and still is very hard to deal with.

And honestly is far as bad things go, that was it. Yes a few parents made my work life miserable for a while. Yes I walk on eggshells at work now after getting written up twice for something no one in any other school district would have ever written me up for. But when I look back at the truly bad things that happened last year there's only those two.

I miss writing a lot. I would write huge fan fictions, essays and poetry. Sometimes I would write 8 to 10 hours a day in my spare time, when I had a day off or in between jobs. Now the only writing I do is on this site. All of my Muses have dried up. I don't have time to enjoy things like I used to. I don't have time to completely submers myself in whatever band or piece of media I have always been into. The most time I get is maybe 45 minutes for a documentary here or there. I always think when I have a vacation like Christmas break or spring break that I'm going to sit down pick up an old thick and either rewrite it or expand on it. I

And I never do. I don't even have the time at night to indulge in the Daydreams and fictional ideas that used to lead me into sleep. I am so exhausted now I am asleep almost as soon as my head hits the pillow. If I'm not asleep then I am awake watching a movie with no other thought in my head.

Thanks to and after school staff meeting where the art Department supplied us with supplies enough to make a Christmas painting, I have discovered I really enjoy painting. And I'm hoping maybe to do a little more of that this year or at least try it out.

If you took the time to read this, bless your heart. And I hope the year was kind to you and that next year will be even kinder.

Vaya con Dios!

#year end post #teaching #work #students #parents #autism #tw: suicide #tw: death #good times #bad times #Spotify

[system-of-a-feather]

Man, I will say it's honestly very meaningful for someone who I deeply respect that I know shares a similar life view and life experiences and has been a part of my life for over half of it go ".... how the hell do you work so hard"

Like I've heard that a lot, both in terms of concern, awe, and genuinely seeking advice, and most of the time it's usually a bit uncomfortable cause the genuine answer is A Lot of Trauma and a Lot of Fucked Up Shit that makes me like this. It's largely not a choice I had and now that we've done a lot of healing, what we are currently doing is the least we've ever done; and yes, as a 23 year old bread winner full time working multiply disordered / disabled + passion project working + a lot of other shit adult supporting a struggling disabled fiance and applying to jobs and a PhD program.

What we are doing is a "break" from the level of stuff we did most of our life, and so a lot of the time - while I don't think any of it is in bad taste or ill intent and all - a lot of the time, people commenting on my academic / career success (grades, progress, education, skill, etc) or how much I work tends to come off as really out of touch to the context of my whole life and trauma history.

And thats okay!

Cause I can't expect everyone to assume my trauma or magically know it, and I'm largely okay with that and learned to not sweat it for those that aren't close to me.

That said, it was like half a month or a month ago that my writing partner commented that and every so often I think about it and its odd how much of a bitter sweet yet positive lingering affect that acknowledgement had on me. Cause him and I are both the "we keep going and we keep going and we keep going and in the end we live" approach to life and all the shit we've both been thrown and I guess having someone who shares that tenacity comment on my like.... extremity, especially knowing my history was oddly really.... validating in a weird way.

Cause I was just like ".... yeah, its trauma and I don't really know how to do anything else. It's really my best effort to Not Work Hard but *shrugs*"

Cause unironically, one of the longest running recovery projects we've been doing is breaking down our productivity and breaking down our "high functioning" nature and doing less in life - but even at functional multiplicity / final fusion / wishiwashi recovery, its still one of the things from trauma we struggle to moderate properly.

I dunno, just some trauma talk with the Feathers / Mostly Riku

#alter: riku #trauma talk #trauma #workaholic #workaholics #riku rambles #vent #vent tw #not really a vent but for filtering purposes

[sub-at-omicsteminist]

Why are you atheist??

I’ve been staring at this ask for a while now since it’s such an odd thing to just ask and I was trying to figure out when I’ve ever mentioned religion so I can answer in response to what they’ve seen but I don’t know when I’ve mentioned it.

I’ve never been a person of faith, I remember in year 2 (6/7 years of age) I was at a school Mass and I realised everyone else around me believed what was being said whereas I thought what was happening was just another story. I’ve always took religious teachings as stories to teach morals and guidance but I never took them literally.

I used to attended a Greek Orthodox church on Sundays and I’m christened Greek Orthodox and I didn’t mind it because the priest was a lovely person. He would say things like Science is the pursuit of understanding Gods creation and he would talk about how important education is. But the thing that stood out to me was he once said being trans isn’t a sin, it’s the journey God planned for that Individual. So when I was younger I wasn’t aware of the more homophobic and transphobic sides of religion.

It wasn’t until I started attending the Catholic secondary that I realised that some people used religion to back up ideas of hate and I became very anti Christian and stopped attending church because as a young Queer kid the bullying and being told I’m going to hell all the time really got to me.

My mum also became very unwell, she has a chronic illness amongst many other disabilities so I also thought if there is a God he doesn’t care because why would he make a child watch there mother slowly die and loose her mind and become abusive.

I loved talking to my friends about their religions though, I’ve always been fascinated with beliefs and faith because I’ve never had any. I partook in Ramadan one year to support my friend who was finding it hard and their family invited me to Iftar and I really respected how important their faith must be for them to do this because it was very difficult. Another experience I won’t forget was watching my friends mum create a Rangoli because she put so much care and attention into it and it is still one of the most beautiful things I’ve ever seen because of that care that went into it.

But it wasn’t until I was 17 I started recognising not all religious people are oppressive, some people use it for oppression but if you take people individually who believe in it that’s not a bad thing.

But there are still things I don’t like, for an example at my secondary we were put into religious houses and mine was house Vanier, turns out that guy was an awful person. His name is Jean Vanier if anyone wants to look him up but it’s just disgusting. Also the priest at the Catholic Church closest to where I live was found out to be preying on children, I have no idea what happened to him in the end but it was a big deal in my town. I also live near some Jehovah’s witnesses who for a month straight harassed me after pride because I assume they saw me coming home with pride face paint and stickers on and I had leaflets about sinning coming through the letter box constantly, and even now they still bang loudly on my door to preach when I’ve explained me, my mum and dad all have diagnosed ptsd and find it distressing. My RE teacher also told our class how he pressured his friend who was SA’d into keeping her baby and he was so proud of himself and it made me feel sick, he did loose his job because he told a student they’ll die and go to hell if they take the pill even though they were taking it for medical reasons.

That’s the part of religion I hate, it’s those individuals I hate. I don’t hate religion or people who practice religion but I hate the fact those things happened.

One of the kindest adults in my life was the school Chaplin, she told me she prayed everyday for my mum to get better and she prayed for me during my exams. I spent a lot of time in the chapel because it was quiet when I was having panic attacks and she used to just sit with me and talk me through them.

I’ve lost track of what I’ve written but

I’m not anti religion. Me not being a religious person isn’t anti religion. I’m anti people using religion as an excuse to be horrible to others.

I’ve just never had any sort of beliefs, in my mind everything is just a coincidence. I don’t believe in an after life, ghosts, superstitions or anything like that either. But that’s who I am and I don’t think that should offend anyone. But I also know I could be wrong and I can’t tell anyone their religion is wrong or right because I simply don’t know that.

I think I prefer the term agnostic (a person who believes that nothing is known or can be known of the existence or nature of God) over atheist because it’s as simple as I don’t know but I don’t think anyone is wrong for having faith.

But also I want to add I’m a white person talking about religion and my experience, all over the world people have different experiences so it doesn’t actually matter what I say. I’m just answering an ask and if you ever want to talk to me about religion I’m always happy to.

#this is a long post so I’ve highlighted parts I think are important #but I also mention at the end I’m a white person and I’m also in the UK #my experience is very different #so it doesn’t actually matter what I say #religion #agnostic #atheist #tw sa mention #I think the last 4 paragraphs sum up everything quite fast #but idk #read if you want #but this isn’t intended to offend anyone #and always ask or message me if you want to talk about religion

[vengeancect]

i don't really have thoughts anymore. just endless degraded feedback, like scrolling through a timeline forever. there's like a 1% of barely functional half-awake suicidal ideation buried under 99% corrupted unconscious junk data. i spend every day twitching and mumbling like a coma patient while replaying memories of watching videos or streams, little soundbites from movies or games, recycling them in my brain and pretending they're mine and i made them. it's always too loud, sleeping is hard. i try very hard to come up with any original thought or concept and even if i do it's impossible to do anything, gets eaten by the noise. my brain just ping-pongs between "i really wish sex weren't real" and "i wanna blow my brains out" as i drool all over myself and think about playing a video game (not actually doing it of course). there's only so many adjustments and corrections i can make to the same old stupid fantasies. i've eaten myself to the bone. i think about killing my parents a lot, especially my dad. i'm paranoid and jumpy all the time, my heart rate is way too fast, i hate the sound of thunder and rain hitting our roof and our dog barking and my parents old people yelling at each other. i don't have a job or education (though i did try to get them a few times over the last 2 years thank you very much!) and probably won't have one for the rest of my life. i won't be able to take care of my parents when they get old, i might even die before them due to my awful lifestyle

now that i think of it that period in 2019 where i went around actually making an effort to learn suicide methods was probably the most autonomy i've exercised in my entire life. i went outside a lot, learned how to buy things online, how to tie knots, put a lot of "effort" in, but pussied out when the time came to make a plan. oh no i have to fast for a while? but then i'll have to talk to my mom about it, and maybe reject a meal! and now, somehow, over 4 years have gone by. i don't know what to do about that. when i kept shopping for the stuff to kill myself with i was so unfamiliar with everything in the world that i had to keep googling to find out what a hardware store is. i had to check around everywhere i could for rope to buy, what kind of rope fits best. i would walk for miles into another city and then spend the entire time inside the store developing an alternate reality in my mind where i created an obscure japanese horror game from 1998. ordering shit online was mortifying and required weeks of planning just to hide it from my mom. a thing that everyone does every day was like a big autistic quest i had to bravely overcome. a year later i would learn how to turn a stove on and make grilled cheeses and it was like a revelation from god to the point where i'm legitimately nostalgic about it. (MAJOR UPDATE: just like last night i learned how to properly tie my shoes for the first time at age 24)

i had to write myself several unhinged reminders and memos like an amnesiac to remember how to tie a noose and do this or that. i shambled around two shopping malls like a tortured ape trying to find anywhere that sold kitchen scales, asking for the price and then leaving. i gave all these stores like 2 or 3 visits at least because i couldn't handle being unprepared for them. i had to talk to staff so many times, staff that were clearly my age, what an uncomfortable realization that was. i saw some disabled guy sitting at a mall cafeteria getting fed by his mom or aunt or whatever and thought "wow he's literally me…". i had to buy deadly chemicals from the internet and find a box to keep them stored in, then i had to get a padlock and key for it somewhere. then i'd walk to a random fuckin chemical storage facility because surely they'd sell me something right? then i would realize i've had my shirt on backwards for the past 2 hours. that Death Box is still there although very moldy. i want to use it but i know i won't, because i guess i don't have the mental fortitude necessary to commit suicide, and maybe never head 2019 was my 10th year being isolated. my most common thought back then was futility. that's all i could think about every time i walked back home. i am so far behind everything and everyone that even if i started "fixing myself" right now and giving it 100% it would still take another 10 years just to build a hollow resemblance of a normal life. i would "succeed" the same way that disabled guy at the mall succeeds at not choking to death on his food. the ever-present spectre of ngmi was now stronger and clearer than ever. nothing will change because nothing can. i was so desperate to die that i walked around a bunch of grassy fields trying to find a good angle and spot to do it where no one would find me. surrounded by bugs and wild horses. it didn't work. that was 4 years ago now. i can barely remember anything before that year (just to hammer the brainrot home even harder, this post was written over like two weeks while also copying another draft i'd written 4 months ago, then left to rot in my drafts for another month or two)

it's been 15 years since 2009. i guess that's when all of this "started" but it would be wrong to claim my isolation made me like this. this is just what i've always been. i am not a victim of neglect so much as a willing accomplice to it. i remember being 11 and browsing my grandpa's PC, looking up cheat codes or chemtrail videos or ytp's in his dark house and hearing the kids outside, seeing them to go school or back home, talking with their parents, and i'd think "hoo boy i hope this doesn't affect my life too hard!" i remember starting this blog july 2012, 11 years ago. i think i did it to follow some skype acquaintances and post "weird" stuff, trying to cobble a personality out of liking this or that insignificant media thing. everything i've ever done has always been a performance because i'm not capable of being real. trying to align this blog with my real thoughts only made it feel more forced and exponentially more painful because now various random people had access to my fragmented thoughts and could poke me with a stick whenever they wanted to skinner box my shit up. i awkwardly exposed myself to all manner of maladjusted weebs and soylennial irony nerds and blessedly ignorant normies and American art school gays, all of which i'm sure have now been subsumed into the workforce and developed conveniently docile, castrated lifestyles and philosophies as a way of preparing their brain for the horribly-but-sometimes-comfortably mundane rest of their lives. they'll get fat and lame but still act like they're 19, they'll try and fail to not become their parents. they'll breed and raise children and work as their brain is slowly dissolved in the murky primordial soup. they'll do all of that, and i'll still be here somehow. i'm just glad they're not pretending we're the same anymore. guess i should press post on this now

[theropoda]

something to be said about the special kind of fucked up that is when the harm comes from inside. when i was younger i agonized so much over why i was so Damaged even though i had no trauma or a bad childhood but i think that's cause my understanding of such, was limited entirely to "an outside force harming me" and nothing else. like an accident, like poverty or war, like abusive parents, or being harmed psychically or mentally by someone else. did not at all account for "being harmed from the inside". my parents tried their best, we had the privilege of being able to visit several doctors, i don't remember any traumatic environmental experiences (like a near death accident or disaster or what have you) my body and brain just failed me so badddd and there was just nothing to be done about it. except a few therapies that either didn't do much or were avoided because they were too, uh... "did not take into account the fact that a child is a small person with agency and feelings and not some animal to be manhandled"-y (thank god for my parents for recognizing that) wasn't deprived of any basic human right other than i suppose, "not being fucked up in ways you couldn't think of". But that's disability for you!!! ;!!!!!!!!!! I wish i could have recognized sooner i was just a disabled child and the gradual, straws-on-a-camel's-back build up of trauma it brings. maybe then i wouldnta spent so many years secretly wishing i had abusive parents cause it meant i had a good reason to be Fucked in the Head

just. one of the earliest examples of something that seems to be a common theme or running gag in my life which is feeling left out all the time other people sharing something i don't have. and every time, every single time, it's not like people do it out of malice! no one is singling me out on purpose i just feel so alone and alien in these experiences. it's not anybody's fault that they simply have not experienced the highly specific circumstances that have defined my life and my brain. but it just feels awful to not have anyone to really spill my heart out to about these things and hear their response, "god i know the feeling. i know it exactly. i know what you are going through i understand the specific hell that it is." it's usually just "im so sorry". again, nobody's fault! but it just sucks so bad.

and it repeats itself everywhere i go. and when i think about it, every single different time in which i feel singled out and alone from everyone else can probably be routed back to the original event: growing up disabled as a kid. in a way that cut me off from so many fucking normal experiences people usually have. im not missing out on anything that i need to survive, thankfully. got my basic animal needs met, like food and a roof over my head. but im missing out on things that make me human. lots of school and education stuff especially.

i am not just surviving, i do not live off scraps, but im not thriving either. i feel like a pet who gets nice beds and good food and regular vet checkups, a good sized cage and everything but no enrichment. i don't need enrichment to live but ill go fucking insane without it. is there such a thing as trauma from fucking monotony, from no enrichment? stuck in the same place, same thing same people every day? it's a good place here. i am not in danger or anything. i just think im being torn apart by the absolute nothing. if i wasn't disabled id be doing so much more, doing everything i can, to have experiences, try new things, learn new things get a job do something anything. i can't though! Lol. Everyday is exactly the same.

aren't i just a fucking parrot?

im not a bug expert by any means but what i have gleamed from following Bug Blogs (Blessed May They Be) is that their needs are specific, but basic, simultaneously. like ig for isopods is food, water. shelter. protection from disease and death. the right temp, humidity. life is good.

but a parrot? n.... no...? good food, water, shelter, a good sized cage, protection from disease. that is good. but if that's all it has, a parrot will, from my understanding, tear itself asunder. literally. i have heard feather plucking can result from sheer lack of enrichment, boredom, monotony.

i feel like that. parrot that kills itself because no touys [kramer voice] it's like a gilded cage inhere if you read this far im so sorry i promise im fine sometimes it just dawns on you. sometimes i see something and i am just reminded of uh (points to above novel length text) all of this. Wait i just realized i already have trichotillomania so i really am feather plucking in a way wait . hey guys what was th

.

#delete later

[stonedregulus]

Uhm, hello there 🌙

I heard you’re on this awful trip at the moment (you better receive many more back rubs from your partner, if he’s there as well) and I’m sorry if this makes it all worse, but I just had a question and I don’t know who else to ask (though obviously I’m aware that it’s not your job to educate me on this topic, and you’re not fucking google ofc)

So I’m writing this modern muggle au right, and you know how since Remus cannot be a werewolf in them, people often give him a chronic illness or make him deaf or blind, but would it be disrespectful to make him trans ??

In the sense that, no idea what the origin of werewolves is, but it’s giving cis straight white guy from centuries ago not getting any girls creating this monster based on periods, because he’s a cis straight white man that’s not getting any girls.

Soo, what if Remus’ dad is a transphobe, but maybe not on J.K. Rowling level, ‘cause apparently he wasn’t a horrible father in canon (though who gives a fuck about canon ?), but maybe he has this whole thing going on about, don’t let children get surgeries, or teens take hormones, they’re too young to be sure yet (which is still an awful view, obviously, just slightly less horrible) but then there’s 4 year old Remus realising he’s trans. And then instead of turning into animagi, once the rest of the marauders realise he’s trans, Sirius goes to Reg to know how to make this all easier for Remus, and they try to show him that it’s safe for him to come out to them if he ever feels like it, and stuff (this is getting to long so gotta cut it short)

Anyways, is that disrespectful ?? Because that’s not at all my intention, but I’m scared that it is …  Feel free to verbally kick my ass though if it is, do not hold back

Hello hello. Sorry it’s taken me so long to reply to this.

So first, obviously I’m just one person and not like the authority of the trans community, so another trans person might disagree with me. I’m sure you know that but I feel like I need to give the disclaimer anyways.

I don’t think there’s anything wrong with making Remus trans. I think all the reasons you listed make sense. However, I don’t think making him trans in place of having a disability is okay. Because being trans isn’t a disability. You know? I think it would actually be great if he was trans and had a disability.

Anyways, that’s my opinion. 💗

#ollie is answering asks

[mythicalcoolkid]

I get so mad over those videos of "skilled workers doing their jobs incredibly, they have so much skill, mind blown!!" because a) yes, there is no such thing as unskilled labor, and b), THESE ARE THE PITY JOBS YOU GIVE TO MENTALLY DISABLED PEOPLE!! These are the factory jobs, the sheltered workshop jobs, the manual labor jobs that "don't need an education" and are "easy enough for [us] to handle," ones that don't involve public (that's part of the shock and awe factor too - you can see a bartender or chef do tricks on TV or at a local place, but you don't see a worker pack batteries)

These are the pity jobs you give us!! Jobs to say "awww, it's like they're a regular employee!" Jobs to "make [us] feel like [we] have a purpose." Jobs with low educational requirements that are simple, repetitive work. Jobs where they don't have to deal with the public's reactions or handle how we act around people. I just can't get past that y'all will "let us have" these jobs and then are shocked that we have skills. It kills me!! It kills a part of me!!! Because if y'all knew they were disabled it would shift immediately from "oh my gosh they have so much skill and talent, I'm in awe" to "it's so sweet that these mentally disabled people can have jobs that work for them, everyone has abilities, happy tears!!!1!!"

#m/cc #mine #negative #ableism #I deserve to not have ordinary not-difficult (for me) things treated like I'm a brave special warrior #I also deserve to have my actual skills recognized #y'all just can't stand the idea that someone mentally disabled might be better at something than you if it isn't like. drawing precisely #it's because if the person doing the cool job is disabled then it must be an easy job /s

[otter1962crystalball]

Hope

June 10, 2024

Happy Pride on this tenth day of Pride Month. I’m still wading through the long list of things about which I could write. Today, it is about losing hope, what it felt like and how I broke loose from old ideas and found hope.

In the mid 1980’s having HIV in your blood meant that you would most likely die. It was plastered all over the news and bathroom stalls: GAY = Got Aids Yet? Religious people were having a field day with how homosexuals had brought this on themselves. For the average gay, if you were negative, life went on as usually - safe sex for the most part. I can remember one publicity presented to the gay community where condoms were to be worn 100% of the time for all sex. I can even remember a demo put out by the local AIDS organization where even being able to open mouth kiss was suggested as unsafe.

All of this was devastating for me. As I wrote before, when I found out, I went into a deep depression. I don’t recall too much about the few weeks after finding out. Having an appointment for a physical due to HIV comes to mind.

In those early days, doctors knew virtually nothing about HIV. The doctor I had examined me, virtually naked. I had some tearing of the skin around my asshole. I can remember him examining it and then calling in a bunch of student doctors to gawk at my backside - without my permission. I lost hope at that moment because I had suddenly become like a corpse to be examined without discretion. I was humiliated. I can also remember the first bloodwork I had after seroconverting. They took 15 vials of blood as my partner, “Joe” stood by with a very concerned look on his face. There was no good news. All they could do was to offer me a conversation with a social worker. She didn’t know anything more than anyone else. To be honest, I can’t even remember what we talked about - it all seemed pointless to me.

Sure, there were some brighter points - where Joe pushed me to go to AIDS Calgary. There, I met other guys like me who seemed to be doing okay. It really cut down on the isolation. I remember the conversations about getting our lives in order because we were probably going to die. I was just getting comfortable the weekly meetings at AIDS Calgary when the move to Toronto occurred that I mentioned in my previous blogs.  I did connect with The AIDS Committee of Toronto and PWA (Persons With AIDS).

During all of this time, I was dealing with the loss of my relationship, loss of my job, house and virtually everything I owned. I did end up getting a subsidized contract working for a Safer Sex division of the AIDS Committee of Toronto and a later contract to work in the education department. During all of that time, my mind was all over the place and I can truly say there were times when I really wasn’t sane. My emotions were all over the place and I made a lot of peoples’ lives difficult. In fact, when I look back on that time of no hope, I still feel tinges of shame for some of the things I did - especially how well I played the victim.

I was constantly plagued with the question of why I still survived several years after my diagnosis. Many men that I knew in Calgary and Toronto had died. If I had had a black book, it would have been virtually filled with crossed off names and phone numbers. Why was I surviving when so many were not?

When my contracts were up, I went on welfare. There was not enough money to pay rent, so welfare put me in a subsidized apartment building filled with seniors and people on disability. It wasn’t a bad apartment, but the people in the building seemed to question why a guy like me was living there. I felt just as much an outcast there as I did everywhere else. My days became empty and the only thing I had to look forward to was walking Bailey, my Golden Retriever that came with me from Calgary. Joe had let me keep her. Here’s when my life went as low as it could. The following is from another blog that I’ve written:

“What made the situation so awful, was that a little bit of hope had appeared to me and then was quickly yanked away, leaving me dead inside. I can remember walking away from the YMCA through the alleyways of downtown Toronto, heading to the subway to go home.  In a back alley, I saw a starling limping on a broken leg along with a broken wing. It was rummaging around in the garbage as best it could to find food. I felt so awful for that pitiful bird that I immediately drew a parallel between the bird and myself. I was just as pitiful and neither of us would last much longer. We were both goners.  I cried alone for an hour, in that back alley strewn with garbage, urine, and the wounded bird.

Life continued on in a fog for me and the days merged into each other into a long series of almost hopeless days. My only light was my workout at the Y and the classes that I attended as long as my AZT (old AIDS medication) didn’t make me sick.”

I did get to train to become a volunteer at the Downtown Toronto YMCA. Hope was starting to return. Teaching aerobics classes gave me a purpose and things began to turn. Hope was returning. Life might go on…

For Pride this year, I am celebrating hope. There were times when I lost it and thought it would never come again. Hope never left me - I just gave up on it. 

Carpe diem, everyone.

#hope #gay #self love #pride

[parfumd3t0iles]

i’ve finally abandoned my original tumblr blog since 2011.. it’s being stalked by some awful people and is not a safe place for me anymore. it’s so sad how people can be so different in private, behind their screens. being targeted by adult women when this started when I was still a teenager, a child, makes me so sick. i was so heartbroken, impressionable, naïve at the time and I am not ashamed of that. Nor am I ashamed of any of my autistic traits like they wish i was. As the only immigrant at my school in my very white town, i dreamed of the day when I could move to the city and be free and find more people like me. I never imagined that i’d manage to get bullied all over again after highschool, outside of my small town.. I could never imagine being 30 and picking on a young woman for experiencing life, experimenting with her identity and ultimately learning to cherish herself in order to deal with disability and chronic illness. a lot of the women from my last job were very unfriendly and competitive to deal with their insecurities, and often put other women down for male validation and popularity, then try to sound educated on topics surrounding feminism and patriarchy when in reality they are contributing. Many women in my city confuse being sexually active with being sexually liberated, and that with feminism. In the end you are still allowing the patriarchy to win, with you acting as its pawns.

Hopefully this page can be my new home and safety bubble.. where I can be personal and not be fearful of jealousy or evil. And this can be a new era of my life, symbolizing my adulthood and the womanhood I deserve

#𖡎 #personal

[queercomesthesun]

This is a message for my lecturer who purposely lectures from a far side of the room so that the lecture capture cannot pick his voice up (he explained to people in the room why he was doing this before doing it: he thinks they are disrespecting him by not showing up, and that if they wanted to hear this lecture, they should have turned up.) ,

You are ableist. Lecture capture, the recording of lectures so we can watch them later or at home is an accessibility aid. We are in University, we pay £9250 a year for an education. You do not have a clue what each of us are going through, you have no clue what barriers we have preventing us from coming in.

My attendance last year was really low bc my anxiety disorder got bad and I couldn't leave the house without having a panic attack. Without those recordings I would have dropped out wasting all the money I paid for this course.

imagine all those with physical disabilities, or chronic illnesses. The time off they take for doctors appointments or because they are struggling with their mobility, or pain, or they are in hospital.

Imagine those who didn't show up because a loved one just died, and they are mourning, or at a funeral.

Or even just those who are late because they commute and their car broke down.

Your job is to educate people, and making learning more difficult for everyone (but disproportionately affecting disabled students) out of pure spite, is petty, and awful. I don't care if nobody shows up to your class, you do the lecture anyway, record it and put it online, because that is your fucking job.

Favoritism of those with high attendance is ableism.

#university #ableism

[swannkings]

when i was in my final year of college i had to take a required credit for my major. it boiled down to basic survey information on the arts & humanities and most of the things covered a person in a&h would pick up from taking any a&h class. it was fine for freshmen maybe, or as an elective for non a&h students but by that point in my education it was a waste of my time and money — plus the prof was a music teacher and centered every lecture on music instead of including different branches of a&h. she was fucking awful for that job.

what i did learn was about funding the arts.

one of our class assignments was to group up (love it) and create a fake non-profit, pitch, and presentation. the group i was in decided on a faux np for teaching school aged kids about filmmaking. we had respective experience in music, film tech, and writing and played to those strengths. we decided we’d want to work with schools or cities specifically in underserved communities in order for kids to have real opportunities to participate — parents wouldn’t have to take off work, travel time would be minimal, and environments would be familiar. funding granted would go towards equipment and software, travel for the np, and the renting of space if needed.

i’m sure we missed things, but we really tried to make it as appealing as possible to potential patrons while maintaining accessibility to the communities we’d be working in and with. i was really proud of our project and it’s one of the only moments of optimism i experienced in college — it was a feasible thing to pilot in the real world.

i tell you all of that so you’ll maybe understand why this next bit infuriates me still.

one of the other groups was all young women. iirc all but one was white, which i think is relevant. this group wanted to create a np meant to give women a leg up in pursuing a career in the arts. a fine and honorable quest. their pitch wasn’t bad, they had a clear mission statement, and they clearly believed in their cause. but what struck me was how little a pool of women they’d actually be reaching.

they made no concessions for working mothers or single mothers, nothing to help accommodate disabled women or impoverished women. it seemed like a huge oversight to not even make a point at least for an hour or two of child minding while mothers or guardians attended their seminars/workshops. when i asked them about it the consensus was if a mother or guardian wanted to attend she could ask someone else to babysit.

that pissed me off. the people this group expected to help were women who already had safety nets, who already had backups and options. they were calling on the idea of uplifting women, but weren’t interested in the vast majority who actually need the help. this group of women were looking to hold the door for whoever wasn’t inconvenient, and if you couldn’t jump through all the hoops to get there then too bad.

there’s a fucking richness to the human experience and deciding to overlook everything you already have trouble seeing because it takes effort on your part? fuck you.

but what’s the point of getting twisted over a college class assignment from 6 years ago? because i think about that group project every time i see some stupid gender essentialist, transphobic bullshit. because the idea that there’s only one type of woman worthy of their voice or allowed to have a seat at the table is detrimental to all women. i stay mad because even when you fit on paper and tick the boxes you can still be unwanted and ignored by the same people soap boxing about how important you are.