"Expensive And Accessible Can Exist At The Same Time, Just Because A Disability Aid Is Expensive Doesn't

Fuck fuck fuck.

So I'm visiting my grandma today which means I'm also visiting my stepmom, who doesn't believe 80% of my trauma even happened.

A series of very fucking unfortunates events has taken place. The details are unnecessary. But I'm triggered as all fuck and TRAPPED here until my bus comes, then trapped on the bus for 2.5 hours. All the while I have to pretend I'm fine, like I'm not experiencing feelings about the triggers, like I'm not fighting for my life to keep from dissociating, like my dissociated parts aren't freeeeaking out.

I am so mentally unwell it's making me nauseous.

I hate this fucking place and my fucking brain and my fucking trauma and this fucking disorder. Hate hate hate.

the main reason I don't want kids is because I don't want to become my mother. but here I am, supposed to be reparenting my inner child, instead beating this part of myself up internally because it's so needy. somehow I still became her.

I'll always appreciate tumblr for being there for me when I need to vaguely shit post about terrible events in my life ✌🏻

So… I got a notification from the State Department at like 8 PM Pacific that my passport was approved, and I was quietly thankful and stunned bc my legal gender in Oregon is listed as X, or undeclared, and that's what's on my passport. I'm pretty sure someone(s) worked late to get the X passports done today.

I was already really grateful to whoever in the Seattle Passport Office worked late to get these things processed on the last Friday before That Man gets back into office... and then I got a notification that my passport shipped at fucking midnight Pacific and whoever got that shit out the door so it couldn't be picked up on Monday and like, denied and shredded?

They're my fucking hero.

everyone talks about cutting off a toxic parent

but no one ever talks about the pain of wanting a parent but knowing yours cannot love you the way they should

your mistake is thinking healing will always feel good, and not often like molting while clung to dead tree bark

When you’ve been severely ill throughout your early adulthood, it means coming up against this again and again:

OTHER PERSON My 20s were wild – copious amounts of alcohol, partying, having sex with multiple people… SEVERELY ILL PERSON Yeah, mine too – copious amounts of herbal tea, being too exhausted to dance or have sex…

OTHER PERSON (a brief what-the-fuck expression passes over their face before they continue as before) Uh huh, so like travelling, starting new jobs, moving in with partners SEVERELY ILL PERSON Emergency trips to hospital, being too ill to work or go on dates OTHER PERSON (looks momentarily confused, then carries on as if SEVERELY ILL PERSON has not spoken) Going outside every day, holidays with friends, being carefree SEVERELY ILL PERSON Being bedbound/sofabound/housebound and stuck indoors, extreme social isolation, the crushing enormity of chronic illness grief and medical trauma OTHER PERSON ?! OTHER PERSON … OTHER PERSON (as before: enthusiastically begins a story about their dating/romantic/sex life as if SEVERELY ILL PERSON has not said anything at all)

here we go, i guess

my therapist suggested i make an anonymous blog to write about my experiences growing up in an abusive household, because i'm still trying to sort some shit out, and i keep feeling compelled to tell my story. but i can't publicly, because it wouldn't be safe for me. so here we are.

i feel old, the last time I had an active tumblr account was like 2012, lmao. this is weird.