Subject: Thanks for sucking so hard
Yo, what up? Actually, scratch that, I don’t give a shit. You’re an asshole. But! I guess I wanted to thank you for that, bc without you being an asshole to all three of your writing-group ex’s, I wouldn’t have the best girlfriend in the entire world right now. Can you guess who it is? Can you? Hint: It’s the one that you were a total dickhead to.
Wait, no, that doesn’t narrow it down at all.
But, anyway, if you hadn’t treated her like shit then we wouldn’t have got to know each other so well, and we probably wouldn’t be together right now. I mean, I’d hope that the version of us in the alternate universe where you just broke up with her nicely like a real person we would still have got together eventually, because I am so fucking happy right now and I want all parallel universe version of me to be this happy.
Just to make it clear: You are a total cockwomble, and you have no right to claim any sort of ‘oh but it was ok that i behaved like a fucknugget bc something good came out of it’.
We are just very happy together, and it’s not even been 2 weeks but we are already so much better at this relationship shit than you ever were with either of us.
And so, in conclusion: Fuck you and the horse you rode in on.
Surprise! After nine years of being a depressed robot, I finally am having something close to normal human feelings again!
I do not like it. Make them go away.
Because I have a crush on someone! One of the really, really bad ones where it hurts in my chest all the time. And we’re both autistic! If she was alistic I would be pretty sure that she likes me, too, but I can’t be sure, because we don’t follow alistic patterns of behaviour!
Plus, y’know, I really really like her, and I’m so afraid that if I ask her out and she says no that it will screw that up, even though a great deal of my angst is over the actual NOT KNOWING, and if I got turned down and we could both continue as if nothing happened then I would be FINE. VERY QUICKLY. But people get weird about you having unreciprocated feelings for them, so ARGH. If I could NOT HAVE FEELINGS ANY MORE THAT WOULD BE GREAT. (Except there’s that part of my brain pointing out that I’m focusing on all the bad things and if everything went right just this once we could both be really happy! I DON’T THINK I WANT TO BE HAPPY IF BEING HAPPY HURTS THIS MUCH!!)
It’s cool. It’s cool. I’m just gonna go have a panic attack. Everything’s fine. I’m fine. Gah.
Tags: Because sexuality lives to confuse me, feelings, orientation, sexual orientation, sexuality, too many feelings
My childhood best friend has two children. My best friend from my teens is pregnant with her first. One of my current best friends is getting engaged, and the other two are in relationships which, considering our ages (mid-to-late twenties) are likely to lead to marriage and/or children (I say that because, fortunately, I am not the only one in our friendship group who does not want children). My sister is starting to seriously consider single-parenthood in a few years time. Despite the fact that you can (legally) get married and have children when you are basically still a child yourself (sixteen is a child in most people, although sixteen-year-old me would kill you dead for suggesting that), marriage and children are such “grown-up” things, aren’t they? You’re creating a family, creating a whole other person, being responsible for that person for the rest of your life. Once you have a kid, there’s no escape. You’re a parent for life. Sure, you’re only legally responsible for them for the first 18 years, but pretty much all the parents I know would agree that the legal system doesn’t actually control your emotions. You’ll be responsible for that person that you made for the rest of your life. Thanks to evolutionary biology this only freaks people out a little bit, not the WHOLE FREAKING LOT that it should do. Thanks, biology! Super glad that I did not get that particular gift.
Don’t get me wrong- I freaking love babies. The younger the better. Tiny humans who have not yet learned to walk or talk are my peeps (oddly, I also get along with teenager. This is probably because I am, emotionally, still a teenager myself). I just have no desire to have one of my own. If they’re yours, you don’t get to give them back when you’re done (well, you can, we just call that “abandonment” and it’s sort of frowned upon culturally).
Lucky for me my biology degree teaches me all sorts of interesting things, like the fact that if your sibling has two children the same amount of your genetic material is passed along as if you had one of your own (all the fun, none of the responsibility!**). Also luckily for me, my sister seems to have got my dose of biological urges along with hers and is totally on board with this plan (I have zero children, she gets to have as many as she likes as long as it’s more than two).
Frankly, this whole “biological urge to procreate” thing has me baffled. It’s not an Autistic thing, because tons and tons of Autistic people have kids. It just seems to be the way that my brain is wired. Sometimes I worry about the future in a vague, abstract way, because, okay, I don’t want kids. Plenty of couples out there dont want kids, they’re happy with each other! Except that I don’t want that romantic relationship crap either. I am perfectly content with having groups of platonic friends, and one or two (or four) people that I have casual sexual relationships with. So far it’s working for me, but that’s partly because the people I’ve surrounded myself with so far have not progressed into phases of life (ie the “children and/or marriage” bit) where their relationships start to focus inward instead of outward.
It’s probably good that this is one (the only) area of my life that I seem able to not obsess over.
** Don’t tell my sister I said that.Tags: life oh life
I seriously considered beginning this with “dear sir”, or “dear angry man”, but frankly you don’t deserve that level of respect from me.
Let’s start with this: even if my car door had touched yours (and it didn’t), even if I had the recklessness to alow my car door to MARK yours in any way (which it couldn’t because it was two whole inches away) you do not have the right to speak to me that way. You would, in the second instance, have the right to be angry, but I will still demand to be treated with respect over an accident.
But that’s a moot point because my car door was nowhere near your “beautiful new paint” on your giant, red, penis car.
So you don’t get to storm over and shout at me that I should “LEARN TO BE MORE CAREFUL” and “LEARN SOME RESPECT”. At that point my car door DID touch yours, because you leaned over me, the lady on crutches, to grab my door and moved it so that it WAS touching your car.
So now you’ve done the thing that I didn’t do, that you are shouting at me for almost doing. Wow.
I’m kinda feel sorry for you. I mean, no man in his 50s with a working cock and the ability to pleasure his wife buys a red phallic monstrosity. You might as well stick a pair of teeny tiny balls on the back to replace the pair that you clearly do not have.
I feel kinda sorry for you because no man you gets that angry over a young person ALMOST MAYBE POSSIBLY IN AN ALTERNATE UNIVERSE touching your useless oversized vehicle (that’s totally not compensating for anything at all) can have much else in his life. I’ve been the daughter of a man who was angry about everything, and guess what: I didn’t exactly like him. I bet your kids hate you, and only speak to you to ask for money.
Besides which, if you value things over people (as I explained, I have to open the door wide to GET OUT MY CRUTCHES) that much, you must have a really miserable life. The kind of life where you always did what you were “supposed” to do, and now your kids are grown, and you’re looking at retirement, and you’ve done nothing with your life.
Maybe I should feel sorry for you. Maybe I should be please that your actions have provoked me to be extra kind to every person I encounter for the rest of the day.
But, frankly, go fuck yourself with a rusty pole. I hope you get tetanus.
Ps your wife did not at all look like she was considering divorcing you over your dickhead behaviour. Good luck with that.
Pps you live in Brighton (don’t think I didn’t see your residents parking permit) you DO NOT NEED A GIANT SHINY PICKUP TRUCK. Or maybe you do, since it’s a big red warning to everyone who sees you in it that you’re an insecure ass hole.
Ppps I feel better now. Maybe just fuck yourself with a clean pole. Sideways.
Bloody hell, I hate insomnia.
Tweeting about it earlier reminded me of the stupidest thing anyone’s ever said to me re: the brain party that is not sleeping for days on end.
It was when I was working for the NHS, and on the worst sleep-deprivation-bender I’ve ever been on in my life. At this point it was four days and counting (on day six my boss walked into my office where I was sitting, unable to move, staring at the wall without blinking. She put me in the armchair in the staff room, went to the pharmacy, and then drugged me into sleeping in a cubicle. Apparently when I was staring at the wall my eyes were twitching so fast it looked like my eyeballs were vibrating. Insomnia is a potentially life-threatening medical condition, kids! Don’t let yourself get stressed out to the point that you don’t sleep for almost a week, okay?) and I ran into a nurse that I kind-of knew because it was 8am and I was standing at the coffee vending machine buying a cup, knocking it back like a delicious caffeinated shot, and buying another one. I drank four before she stopped me, and we chatted about why I was one step away from stealing a cannula and injecting coffee straight into my veins.
Which was when she said the stupidest thing anyone has ever said to me about insomnia:
“Oh, I wish I could get that, you must get so many things done with the extra time!”
I’m pretty sure I just stared at her until she left, because those are the words of someone who thinks that sleep deprivation is staying up all night partying. Or pulling an all-nighter to write an essay. Things that you might do several nights in a row, but you certainly wouldn’t expect yourself to be a functioning human the next day. Like, maybe for the first night I have the energy or brain power to do shit (mostly I read, or knit, or meditate, or do yoga or listen to audiobooks- you know, things that might HELP ME SLEEP), but by night two pretty much all I’m good for is staring at the ceiling and trying to set it on fire with the power of my hatred for the universe.
Obviously this is for the really bad bouts of insomnia, the ones where I literally do not sleep a single minute for more than two nights which is not a common form of insomnia, even for me. Mostly insomnia is “interrupted sleep” where you just don’t get more than a few hours spread over the whole night, usually for much longer than the more extreme version (you know, the one that can kill you). And you don’t get much free time to do shit with that version, you’re mostly wishing & hoping & thinking & praying about sleep.
Insomnia bad & unproductive.
Sleep good, but equally unproductive.
Pick sleep. #teamsleepTags: health, insomnia, sleep
Am I being punished for my hubris? Yesterday, after I did my physiotherapy exercises, I started to get pain in my knee again. It’s not much, but it is definitely more noticeable now that I remember what the absence of pain felt like. Considering the site of the pain (lower-front patella) it is possible that it is a result of my kneecap rubbing on the top of my shinbone, and a bit of taping will help.
Watch this space.Tags: disability, knee, pain
Yesterday my consultant stuck quite a large needle under my kneecap and squirted some steroids in that bitch. That felt weird, but not as weird as getting liquids shot through an IV. Honestly, the effect was almost instantaneous, although I did still use my crutches to get from the hospital back to the car, because the steroids may have made it 100x better, but it still hurt to put weight on. A lot.
(Aside: I deffo no longer have a needle phobia any more. Thank you, massive amounts of pregablin. You have done many things for me, but this might just be my favourite of them. This was another change brought about by the miracles of modern medicine. I still get nervous when people approach me with needles, but I think that’s mostly because I spent 21 years having phobia reactions, and only 6 years not having them, so it’s like my body remembers ‘this is how we’re supposed to react to the thing’ and tries to make me have a panic attack, but then I take a few deep breaths and it’s fine. I am super excited that this is thing that has happened.)
Blah blah, went home, had a nap. Knee did not lock or seize up while I had nap for the first time in two years. I woke up after 80 minutes and didn’t have to move my knee with my hands to get it warmed up or anything.
Then I did some walking around town WITHOUT MY CRUTCHES. It hurt, but it was more of an ache from the steroid injection than the constant screaming agony that walking was before. Oh, and I lasted through the whole of seeing Legend at the cinema without having to resort to a) opiates, or b) leaving the cinema.
Last night I slept for seven whole hours. Uninterrupted, blissfully un-painful sleep. Previously I would only get an hour or so before my knee seized up, and then I tried to move in my sleep, and then I woke up swearing and sweting from the pain. Rinse, repeat, get very cranky from long-term insomnia.
This morning I sat on the edge of my bed, and then I stood up. With a bit of stiffness, bit of soreness, but no actual pain, and more importantly, I did it without having to push off the bed with one hand and the desk with the other. And then I walked normally across my flat to the bathroom and back. No limping at all.
When I got to Hove for my eye test fifteen minutes early I just wandered (WALKED, WITHOUT CRUTCHES) around the shops, and did it a bit longer afterwards JUST FOR THE NOVELTY.
Then I came home and did thirty squats. THIRTY. And my knee feels fine. It hasn’t seized up once while I’ve been sitting around reading for the last five hours. AT ALL.
Because of the Hypermobility Syndrome it’s possible that the steroid injections effects will wear off a lot sooner than intended, so I am going to try and keep an update every few days of any progress, regressions, or side effects so that I can go prepared into my next consultants appointment.
Because giant knee needle every few months is WAY BETTER than a knee replacement before the age of thirty.Tags: anxiety, health, knee update, medical, needles, pain, phobia
I mean, it would be a terrible party. Because the reason it’s like 2010 is that was the last time I experienced this much stress.
Seriously. Terrible party.
You would think that someone with the level of anxiety and depression that I experience would be an old hand at stress, but you would be wrong. They are totally different beasts. Anxiety and depression are my brain’s default settings. Stress is their response to outside stimulus.
When things start happening that require me to work to deadlines, or make multiple phonecalls, or just turn up to things over and over again even when the best thing for my mental health would be to not interact with the world – well, each thing makes my stress levels rise a tiny increment. Often there is enough time between each of these things that the stress of one thing goes away before the next thing happens. But the last two months have not been spacing stressful things out considerately, and so now I am stressed.
Which, actually, would be fine if it didn’t effect anyone but me, but it doesn’t. The more stressed I am the less control I have over my temper (I live with a strangle hold on my truly horrible, awful temper every single day. I don’t get angry any more because a) I do not want to make people cry, and b) I am over 18 and can be arrested for punching people in the throat now), so things sort of bleed over. I get snappy and irritable, and then that escalates to throwing things, which escalates to me punching people, which is just bad for all of us.
It sucks because the only way to stop it once it’s started is to stop doing ANYTHING for a while. For 1-4 weeks I have to just do nothing, say nothing, see no one if my brain doesn’t really want to. It requires self-awareness and selfishness, neither of which I am accomplished at (I have this driving need to HELP PEOPLE and not LET PEOPLE DOWN even when it’s to my own detriment and I CAN’T STOP DOING IT).
So, instead, I will do what I always do: carry on as normal until I have a breakdown and am FORCED to stop Doing Things by family, and people with medical training.
(Coping mechanisms? What coping mechanisms? Your FACE is a coping mechanism.)Tags: anxiety, depression, i have like 0 coping mechanisms, mental health, stress
Me: Yay alcohol!
Brain: Yay alcohol!
Brain: ok you talked me into it
Brain: Still no.
Brain, 4.07am: ok
Brain, 8.34am: haha jk
Me: r u serious or is this a trap?
Me: … okay. That sounds fake, but okay.
CAR ALARM, 2.46am: WEEOOWEEOOWEEOO
Brain: OK, since I ws thwarted yesterday by that fucking car alarm. Can we key the car next time?
Me: Yes, if you let me sleep until it inetivably goes off again.
Brain: Deal. SLEEPY TIME.
Brain, 3am-8am: i mean yeah i said u could sleep, i didnt say i wasnt going to give you CONSTANT ANXIETY NIGHTMARES HAHA
Me: I really hate you right now
Me: NOT TODAY, SATAN
Me: ok for reals this time i have to coach roller derby tomorrow, truce?
Brain: Here’s your truce: You go to bed and I will let you KIND OF sleep all night. But I will also wake you up every time there is the slightest noise outside.
Me: … Like what?
Brain: Well it’s Saturday night, so how about every time a drunk person speaks anywhere on your very long street?
Brain: And whenever a car goes past!
Me: But the taxis for most of the city go down my road at night
Brain: Yes, see, now you’re getting it!
Me: I suppose this way I at least get to sleep a bit?
Brain: That’s the spirit!
Brain: … You’re wrong, but that’s the spirit!
Me: *sleeps for 18 hours*
Me: SUCK IT, BITCH, I WIN