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mollydollyjournals · 3 years

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I'm supposed to go for dinner with my in laws tomorrow. Today, technically. Hb isnt even sure if he's going so I have to wait until hes decided. But I dont feel like I can go at all. It would be a really bad idea for me. I'm fucking tired. I'm worse than I've been in a long time. Again. I keep getting worse. Why the fuck would I be able to go play Good Wife in a situation that's anything but that.

And I just got a lot better with my art. That ADHD hyperfocus finally paid off somehow. In the past month I've learned way more with drawing than i have in years. I wanna draw. I wanna make comics. I wanna learn. It feels like growth and i dont want to go sit in a mansion pretending the sofa I'm sitting on isnt worth more money than my entire life. I'm not them. Nigga we ain't them.

If I stay up late enough I can tell hb I wont be able to wake up in time. Its likely anyway, and I already told him this. It's just the only thing of my issues that he seems to relate to. I think he can relate to more really, but he keeps playing the part. Kyriarchy is a hell of a drug.

I have therapy every Friday. Last session I mentioned that this dinner was coming up and I didnt want to go. My therapist said, 'then why not stay home?' and I felt like, you know...you're right. I know you're right. You know you're right. Insert Nirvana song. The correct option, really, is for me not to go. Even hb isnt really well enough to make the 3-4hr round trip for dinner.

But they are high achieving high functioning middle class rich white people and whether we care about that or not the fact remains that they own the house we live in. And that's capitalism, folks. That's why I havent left hb in all the times I've thought that might be better for us. That's why hb hasnt broken away from his parents in all his life. That's why his mother hasnt left his father even though shes literally even told her children she wants to. Its money. In some cases, cant handle leaving the middle class lifestyle behind. In my case, just need a secure place to live with vaguely reliable heating and internet. Regardless, fucking capitalism.

So I dont know what to do. They wouldnt understand that I finally got some kind of breakthrough with my art. Not unless i was going to make money out of it. My own mother barely understands that kind of thing. God theres so much i havent even written here.

I just dont want to go. It's not a good idea for me to go. It's a good idea for me to stay here and make my art and draw my comics and stay sober where I can and drink where I need to. Fuck I'm really glad I started with my therapist tbh. It really surprised me that a cishet white guy that isnt trying to fuck me might actually relate to me. My brain keeps spinning all kinds of bad outcomes for that. But for the time being at least, this is someone who thinks similarly to me, but is qualified as a therapist in a lot of ways that I need. And if he says 'addiction isnt the ideal but I'm really glad you got drunk instead of k1ll1ng yourself' and 'if you're that stressed about going, why do you have to go?' that's what was in my head to start with. That was exactly it. I could have game over'd and I definitely wanted to but I drank instead to just keep myself going. Until later. Until tomorrow if I can manage it. My increased sui// shit is from feeling like I'm being judged for that and cant get out of it, and if I cant continue as an alcoholic, and i cant continue without alcohol, then i guess i just cant continue. And fuck even a paid professional is such a rarity as someone who might tell me that yes, I should continue to exist, and yes, I am a good thing in the world, and yes, there is a way to realistically drink less, but yes, i should drink myself into oblivion if that helps me to continue to exist another day. And in deciding whether to go see my rich white upper middle class in laws, I should consider whether I actually want to do that or not and maybe just be selfish a bit in my decision.

But hb will give me shit if I don't. I was really hoping he'd cancel. He said he was probably going to. But he didnt confirm. He said hed confirm tomorrow, at a time that's fine for him but way too late for me. Really, we shouldn't go. Neither of us should. We only want to go to show up for his mother, who is a baby boomer who's been through a lot and tried her best to fill the role assigned to her. Otherwise we'd see the rest of his family at another time - not that we dont want to see then, we just dibt want to cancel.

And all of this is the same performative bullshit I grew up with. As a poor person attending a school full of rich kids. As a 2nd gen immigrant brown kid at a school full of white folks (where in the recent BLM movement that same school was called out for its racism). As a yet-undiagnosed autistic kid trying to look neurotypical while not even aware of the issue.

Its the same. Every time I have to go back there. Even hb got more vocal about judging me recently. Again. I'm too tired. I cant do it. I can work on my drawing, I cant do this middle class family Good Wife shit.

Its nearly 2:30am and that'll be my excuse. I wont be able to wake up in time. Hb will understand that. But he'll see it that I'm still awake because I stayed up drinking and smoking and whatever. Not that I'm doing those things because I'm anxious as shit. Or that actually I had a reasonable amount of wine with my mum today when I went to visit her for the first time in a really long time, along with two of the pets I brought home when I lived with her who are now elderly and one could drop dead any second, and I'm really an introvert, and if I'm going to go anywhere to socialise it has to be my mum. It has to.

I dont know if I'm overreacting, because at this point I'm going to have to tell hb that I wont be able to go and hes going to know that I drank and whatever and maybe he wont go off at me. But I am completely certain that there'll be some passive aggression going forth. And I hate this. And even this journal post, on my own private anonymous tumblr account, is taking up way too muc mental energy that I was previously putting into a drawing that I actually felt good about.

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