weaselle

[weaselle]

[weaselle]

I haven't seen anyone else mention this, but about a month ago they banned porn sites in my state. Like-- you can't open a private tab, you can't sign in to access it, you straight up cannot open or look at porn websites like Pornhub or XHamster or PornMD etc here in Texas without a VPN. This shouldn't be considered a legal thing to do. They didn't directly ban pornography here, but they might as well have.

And it may not seem like much. It starts with small things like this, and then-- what next? Are they going to ban LGBTQ content for being "inappropriate for children?" Next they might just outright outlaw pornographic material altogether. The bar is just going to keep getting raised, and don't think it won't.

This is not okay. I hate the sanitization of the internet.

[weaselle]

[weaselle]

Tag urself I'm Tiddy Skittles

[weaselle]

My only tat is Captain Sinister, an elfin jester pirate.

I wrote him a pirate ballad that explains his pirate backstory (no backstory on his elfin heritage, as that was an impromptu decision by my tattoo artist, and no inclusion of his jester status, as that is shared history with me, just his backstory as a pirate captain) and it's pretty badass, so, i'm confident we'll do alright on the battlefield

#is name is captain sinister because he's on my left (sinister) arm and not my right (dextrous)

[weaselle]

i don't watch horror movies so i was staring at this trying to figure out what movie it was from, confused about the text, convinced it was about this guy

for so long, until i remembered the weird mask butcher knife guy was a thing

Whenever I’m sad I think about the fact that Michael Myers does have a sense of humor because this fucker absolutely put on a sheet and some glasses and was like ‘this will be the greatest prank on planet earth just u fuckin wait’

AND IT WORKED SHE HAD NO FUCKIN CLUE

[weaselle]

Me duele la cabeza

[weaselle]

Speaking of therapy, I say, as though we're old friends, and you're not a stranger trapped in this metaphorical elevator with me and you can hear the suspension wires starting to fray.

I've been doing a lot of work recently that's focused on imposter syndrome and the feeling that no matter how well or how much I do, I'm not good enough. That I'm somehow tricking everyone into thinking my work is actually good.

Some days it's a minor niggle in my head that I can gentle and soothe with logic and affirmations. Or smother, depending on the mood. Other times it's loud and all-consuming and the mental anguish it causes me is so real I can feel it twitching in my muscles. This desperate fight-or-flight instinct with nowhere to go and nothing to fight but myself.

Anyway, because I'm several types of Mentally Unwell™, I was switching between workshop sheets ahead of next week. Filling in different forms. (Trying to get a good grade in therapy) And I got my "recognize your harmful ADHD coping mechanisms" worksheet mixed in with the "you're not actually lying to people, you just feel like you are because your brain is full of weasels" worksheet, and seeing them side by side made something go topsy turvy in my head, and I just had to sit and breathe for a couple of minutes until the urge to scream passed. Because it clicked, it all suddenly clicked.

The reason the imposter syndrome workshops and therapy sessions aren't sticking was because I do routinely trick people into thinking I'm someone I'm not.

Because I'm masking my ADHD for their convenience.

I've always known there was something wrong with me. My neurotypical peers made it abundantly clear I didn't fit in or was failing in some way I couldn't see nor remedy, no matter how hard I tried.

So I compressed myself into a workaholic box of hyper-competence in the hopes they'd stop noticing the flaws and exploit like me instead. And then subsequently lived with the daily fear that if they looked too close, they'd realize I'm a monumental fuck up with enough personal baggage to block the Suez Canal.

If you ever need someone to burn themselves to ashes for your comfort and convenience, I'm your gal.

Or I used to. Until I had a bit of a breakdown, and the rubber band holding my brain together snapped and pinged off into the stratosphere, never to be seen again.

Unfortunately, the trauma of living like that didn't also fuck off and instead left a gaping maw where my personality ought to be, so now I get to deal with that aftermath.

And it's that aftermath that's affecting the imposter syndrome shit. Because yes, I am hyper-competent and good at what I do-- but it doesn't feel real because that is how I mask.

And the truly frustrating thing is I am good at what I do. I am not pretending. I worked hard to be good at this. It just feels like I'm dicking around because 90% of my personality turns out to be trauma masquerading as humor in a trenchcoat, and having people genuinely like something weird I'm doing is so foreign my brain has decided it's just another form of masking.

I'm pretending to be a good author so people will think I'm a good author, and my brain thinks we are in Danger of being found out. We are in Danger, and writing is Dangerous because then people will know I'm Weird and not whatever palatable version I've presented myself as for their NT sensibilities.

Like the neurotic vampire with a raging praise kink wasn't an obvious giveaway.

Anyway. I got nothing else. Thanks for listening.

I'm going to go be very normal in another room and not stare into the abyss of my own soul for a bit.

[weaselle]

[weaselle]

*Stares directly into the camera*

[weaselle]

Listen if the study of ancient humans doesn’t make you at least a little bit emotional idk what to say.

I started crying today at the museum because they had reconstructed the shoes of Otzi the iceman.

Either he or someone he knew who cared about him made these shoes out of grass and bear skin and twine and he was wearing them when he died over five thousand years ago.

And a Czech researcher and his students did reconstructions of these shoes and wore them to the same place where he died to test them out and they were like yep! These shoes are really cozy and comfy and didn’t give us blisters while hiking!

Is that not just the coolest shit ever????

[weaselle]

500+ and i will NEVER use the "for you" page, this is the ONE place still left on the internet where i am ONLY presented with a selection of content from real people that i have personally chosen to view content from. If I want an algorithm to tell me what to look at (hint, i really don't) i can go literally anywhere else for that

[weaselle]

[weaselle]

i was amab in a time when "trans" wasn't a word yet. I was intensely curious about what being a girl was like, constantly read books like Are You There God It's Me Margaret, and had persistent fantasies about being a girl.

But i couldn't make myself like boys in my fantasies of being a girl, and due to internalized transmisogyny and internalized homophobia, i thought that meant i couldn't be a "girl trapped in a boy's body" because if i was then i would like boys, right?

(i didn't meet a single person i knew was gay until halfway through high school, but i knew what being gay was, and i knew some people in the world felt they were the opposite gender of their body's sex, but both at once was too much for me to wrap my head around).

And i also had a number of stereotypically male traits and interests (like i had a bad temper problem, and loved a lot of "boy" recreation) which made things even more confusing to parse as a child trying to understand any of this all alone.

So, after struggling really hard with not fitting into male spaces or identifying much with my male peers, but not having any female spaces or female peers available to me (sexual segregation in young people is a real thing) i eventually doubled down on creating a kind of masculinity that i could be comfortable with.

I started defining what makes a "real man" in ways that felt like me. For instance, a "real man" isn't afraid to wear a dress or like ballet or enjoy pink things etc. And that's true, you can be a real man who does and likes those things, a point of view that actually gained me a kind acceptance of having mature masculinity among many adults.

After a couple of decades of work on myself, i created the sort of masculinity i could feel proud to be. I worked really hard on it. I'm not sure i'd want to give it up, it's a thing i'm pleased to have created for myself.

But then i started to go back and remember how i used to feel. And wonder what my gender would be if i had felt like i could do anything about it. If i had someone to help me figure things out, if i grew up in a household that let me look into it... If, if, if.

So i began exploring my gender more after years of adulthood. I know what kind of man i am, and i'm happy with what kind of man i am, but i don't think that encompasses every part of me. I think there's probably an imprisoned girl in here somewhere and sometimes i try to let her out.

I think if i was 13 years old today, i might have been trans. I think if I had been born a girl my actual birth year, i might have been a tomboy lesbian. But who is to say?

The point is, i don't really know if i'm cis, or non binary, or what. And i don't really care much, actually. All i know is i'm trying to be me, whatever that is. And that's both hard enough, and rewarding enough.

So i'm not sure how to answer this. But i love that people are exploring themselves enough to ask questions like this, because that inner exploration is the important thing, i think. And doing it together can get you places you wouldn't get alone

other as in other than your agab, not other than your gender. so for eg a cis woman reading this the question is if you were amab would you be a trans woman do you think

#my life

[weaselle]

[weaselle]

Maybe one day a naked person will once more just be a naked person, as it was for nearly all of human existence, and people will get bored of keeping women’s bodies this paradoxical mix of socially unacceptable and publicly owned.

[weaselle]