reblarging

The more time Trump spends in abroad, talking to people who have power to do literally anything, makes me more and more nervous.

I mean, shit people already hate Americans, he’s not going to do us favors. If some shit happens and we get nuked or some shit, the people going “please, let us have safety in your borders” are going to be shot into the sea

like via a cannon

and like, as great as our [jewish people’s] thing of long ago having the ocean parted for us was– thats probably not gonna happen like on a regular basis. or at least it would take a lot of prayer and some even worse things chasing us so we probably aren’t actually picking the destination.

What i’m saying is i get really nervous the more i hear and don’t hear. I have a lot of faith that we’re going to survive– in some way, even in shattered fractions– but looking at all the things going wrong, i do kinda worry now and then that something big is coming and we’re not going to like it. 

Also i was vigorously ill when i saw Trump in a kippah. i know its because he was walking around Jerusalem, but he was,,,,, no. Its just viscerally wrong. A holocaust denier, an antisemite, a fucking nazi– wearing a kippah and putting a note in the Kotel [Western Wall] by shoving his whole arm in… no

Like i don’t really know how to feel about Israel the state as it is now and i don’t want asks about it, but like… that’s not right.

.

So my dad’s jumping through hoops to get my half brother some document or another and my other halfbrother has fucked off from his family to the point his kids have been taken by CPS but he’s too busy trying to get us to pay for a dirtbike and my parents have Finally Had Enough Of Their Shit to ignore Mike so we don’t give them money at least

so when Mike called today looking for their numbers bc they blocked him on mom’s phone, i was so so tempted to tell him to fuck off
i have now been authorized to tell them to fuck off

I can now tell them, with absolute glee in my voice, when they call going
“Hey [deadname] can i talk to mom and dad about my problems”
“No, GO CRY ABOUT YOUR PROBLEMS ON YOUR PILE OF STOLEN MONEY AND DRUGS, JOEY.”
“You rude cunt.”
“BOO YOU THEIVING WHORE.”
or with mike
“Go tO THERAPY AND RAISE YOUR FUCKING KIDS, YOU DEGENERATE FUCK.”
“LISTEN HERE YOU PSYCHO BITCH–”
“NO YOU LISTEN HERE YOU STRUNG OUT DEADBEAT MOTHERFUCKING THEIF, YOU’RE WHY MY NEICE WANTS TO DIE EVERY NIGHT– GO FUCK EVERY RUSTY RAZORBLADE YOU CAN FIND ON THE WAY TO CALI AND FUCKING STAY THERE YOU MISERABLE FUCKING WASTE OF GENETIC MATERIAL AND CALORIC REACTIONS”

I can tell them i hate them with no fear that my father will fuck me up for it!!!!!!

im so happy

So i went to therapy today and it went overall well– 

but my therapist, appearantly, had discovered one single pronoun [ze/zem/zer/zemself] and forgive me if that’s not the conjugation, i’ve only heard it said and not written. 
She commented that it was “the” trans pronoun and was half way through saying she’d refer to me as that since it was “the” trans pronoun when i stopped her and said “Wrong pronoun.”
“What?”
“Ze is a neopronoun, and it’s a valid pronoun, but it’s not the one i use.”
“What’s a neopronoun?”
“I’m not sure about the exact definition, but it’s basically pronouns that people have come together and made to fit their gender identities that don’t fall into the binary but they also don’t fit in the they/them pronouns. There’s, of the top of my head, Ze/zem, Ne/Nem or it’s Ne/neir? And one that’s spelled with an X that i don’t know how to pronounce, but that’s not on the pronoun and the people who use it, it’s more on the fact i’ve not looked into it and the couple times i’ve seen it, i didn’t look too hard on how to say it.”
“So why can’t it apply to you?”
“Because I use they/them.
“Well, you have to understand this is a really difficult concept–”
“It really isn’t. That person over there, they are tall. That ball belongs to them. It’s theirs. You don’t know them. It’s just talking like you don’t know much about someone, but you do. You just aren’t gendering me, you aren’t forcing a binary on something. You’re stuck in a binary and dragging me into it.”
“It’s just something i was raised with, so it’s difficult.”
“It’s not, it really really isn’t.”

She’s trying but dear lord is it testing

me: has chocolate

my bro: can i have some chocolate

me: sure

bro: [slumps over to get it]

me: .. that was so lazy lol

bro: that would be the shit you do all day

me:…………………………the “being confined to a chair because i’m in a horrible amount of pain”?

bro: i have to go to school, learn to drive, and you just sit there

me: motherfucker, i been there done that, went to college, got the diploma, had the car wrecks from driving your ass to fucking school so you could have a better life, and now my body is trying to kill me. You get food from me and you pull this shit?

bro: it is all you do.

i stg

anonymous asked:

Sorry, your tags were kinda vague, and I wanted to clarify. How do you feel about crytyping?

I really really REALLY don’t like it?

I have some stuff up with my nerves and joints, and i’m dyslexic with psychotic symptoms running around in my depression ok. So i have a cocktail of “when distressed/not paying attention/having a bad day/overwhelmed or overstimulated i will fuck up how i type and misspell shit” to the point it looks like i’m half-assing crytyping. What’s actually happening is my hands are either shaking, my brain has orgotten how to spell, or the keyboard legitimatly looks like a letter is in a different place and i don’t realize i’ve put a letter in a weird place.

If me and someone with similar issues get hyped up we’ll fuck up our words, and because Crytyping is a Thing, you know what happens? People think we’re being dramatic fucks. And nope, we’re just mentally and physically fucked and trying to go “lisen, let me live”. Again, usually when we can’t focus or in my case i’m just “i dont care about correcting ok”

In the post i made the tags on the example was:

“i dinfd’t mean to be racisits and nwo eveyrons’s mad at me adn i’m so anxoisu [insert threat of self-harm]”

and like i fucking hate that ok. not only because as a self hating individual who has “everyone hates me” thoughts, or a person who is constantly fighting urges to self harm, but because.. well ok. listen. 
When my hands are spasming, and tryeing to type [like you’re seeing the misspellings im leaving in this response because i’m lazy ad also annoyes at this stuff] my fingers tend to spasm alsong letters i knwo aer ian the weord and the woerds aeround them.
Sometimes it’s random shit in the middle of the fucking word and sometimes it’s literally jsut your fingers deciding “we’re going to smack some words together”. 

It’s usually neurotypical people keysmashing around the letters that go into a scentence and being dramatic to look like people who have hard times communicating so they can get pity to get out of shit. It’s never for any other reason. The underlying implication is almost always “pity me, i’m too ignorant and unknowing and stupid to know better” and it pisses me the fuck off. 

Further, IT’S FUCKING INFURIATING because sometimes shit llike that happens when i’m trying toe type some fucking long ass fucking meta or post about important shit and end up with a mess ok. And people turn it into a fucking joke because they see a fuck up that i literally don’t notice– and other people that have a similar problem give me the leeway and i’m greatful– but they go “oh its crytyping”” and nothing is taken seriously.

Do you knwo hwo hard it is to have a mental and physical barrieare to communicationg with the whole fucking world where all you havew is youer typing and youre hands are afucked but the nerve damage you got and the mental fuckery you got and everything is a joke?
You have to spend so much of your mental energy to spellcheack everything and reread everything fifteen times and meak suer it’s what you think it says? 

Do you know how fucking angering it is to spend years trying to make sure you don’t look like a fucking moron, because you’ve been told nothing in this world is more important than passing as a well spoken typist, and then seeing someone turn what you type like in times of distress or times you can’t physically control yourself as a joke or what people do when they’re being horrible? Do you know the sick feeling when you run out of energy and post something with fucked up language while in a moment of depression, needing support and love, and wonder if people are going to think you’re doing that and will just think you’re being dramatic?

Do you know how hard i’v cried wondering if people have thought my emotional support and cries for help have been jokes because of this bullshit?

I don’t mean to get mad here nonnie, i’m just fucking not ok now. I ficking hater crytyping. i hate it so fucking much.

hahahahahhahahaha

someone shoot me

I was supposed to help my brother set up his insurance yeah? So i asked him if he had a secure email and he refused to close his 89 tabs of fanfic etc to make one and i tried to explain calmly it’s not safe to keep them open for it and he started throwing a fit.
He had a whole 15 min fit of yelling and literal growling and screaming about how i was “bossing him around” and ruining his life.

I told him i was doing this because it was for his health, that i cared for him and i asked if his fanfic was more important than his health– if his ability to safely pay for medical care was less important than fanfic.

OMG he just came and started growling about how he was doing the thing ANYWAY with the tabs open and then yelled when it went to outlook [because how dare he let me tell him its the same thing] and then he slammed his fist on the table when i told him to close the tabs– like he was going to smash my laptop.

I snapped and told him if he was going to do this, we were either going to do the fucking insurance thing and be civil, or we were going to do the intimidation pissing match and he would fucking lose. Because worse than him has tried to step up to me and piss me off and scare me, and with worse consequences. One of us is going to suffer for this and it’s not me. 

He looked like he was going to throw his laptop at me and then left the room. 

i’m so fucking done.

someone shoot me or adopt me

The day i understand how DBT and Mindfullness is supposed to work for anyone that isn’t a white, able bodied, money having person is the day it actually works.

Because everything i read in my binder feels like “ok so all that emotion and agency you clawed from life’s bloody teeth through all your trauma and pain? All those hard fought and cemented morals and personality traits you have?”
“Yes, Mindfulness/DBT?”
“Put those in the fucking trashcan and sit in the middle of the road because you’re not allowed to have any strong feelings about anything until you run it through about 50 filters because nothing in the world will ever apply to you ever again. Even when things are indeed about you, like political things. Also, that anxiety thing that constantly plagues your mind and can send you into an asthma attack after just a few moments of pondering worst case scenarios? You’re not allowed to acknowledge that it’s fucking you up anymore because NOW you’re supposed to trigger yourself rehearsing the worst of the worst scenarios over and over again. Because this is how you’re going to learn to cope. Also, set a goal from a value.”
“Well, i.. i value–”
“Being a productive citizen? Who wants to get a job so your mentally ill body that is a drain on society can contribute and not be a waste of space? Wonderful because that’s literally every example we used in the work book! So you don’t get confused about where you rank. Also, somehow divine when triggering things will happen to you because everyone can appearantly do that. But while trying to do that, here’s a list of things you can do to relax.”
“These… almost all of these require other people, at least a steady income, and or planning around a very well paying job.”
“Yup. What else would someone like you be good for. c: You need to be emotionally stable to work.”

Basically i continue to fucking hate Mindfulness with all my soul because it keeps sounding like it’s talking down to me and telling me to sit down, shut up and be what society wants me to be. 

Because there was literally a fucking section in the book telling me to not to upset the status quo and to follow customs and not upset people.

I’m literally going to tell my therapist that the second chance for this shit is done. i’m done being told every ounce of emotion and opinion and logical calculation i make is meaningless and wrong because i didn’t come to that conclusion via this fucking binder.

I gave my therapist the url to a genderfluid/trans resource blog with a feeling of “please for the love of god read up on this”

because like, if i have to deal with being called “her” and “she” and being refered to as gay by an old straight lady im going to die

anonymous asked:

I just want to let you know I really love your art! It's so pretty and awesome! and I think its really cute how happy you are to share it! ^_^ thank you! Sorry I'm bad with words! ^_^;;

Thank you nonnie!!

Growing up my now ex-friend would bully me and constantly tell me that i’d never be able to do anything with art because i was never going to be good enough, so i should never try to learn how to draw, never try to learn how color and shading work, and how nothing i would ever make– if i was ever smart enough to make anything– would ever be beautiful or worthy of praise. She did this to make sure she got praise as the artistic friend. She admitted this later. 
So once i started making things in College, learning to draw in chibi art styles and drawing little landscapes and coloring things with colord pencils and falling for patterns, she came down on me hard enough i gave it up for months. 
Then i almost gave up drawing because she kept going on about how i was just faking my progress because she’d trained for several years and taken classes and i’d taught myself. 
When I ended the friendship and started doing things like drawing characters i had on here, learning to draw people of color, painting my color smears once i got a tablet, learning from tutorials– i grew so much and i’m still growing. I have friends that are artists. That don’t tell me i’m shit and will always be shit.

I also know they have a long list of reasons why they don’t share their art all the time, or for free– they have bills and like, commissions and things to go toward those bills. I’m jo blow that’s learning and playing around for my Therapy. I have no reason past “dont feel like it” to not paint something i wanna and post it. If i get aksed to do a thing, i can say no just like them, but i don’t run the risk of being told i’m driving off customers.

But like my point bc im veering, like i’m really free with my art bc i’m not trying to make anything off of it and i’ve literally had a decade and some change of people going “You are literally so bad people will thank you for you burning whatever you used to make this crap” so i kinda throw my stuff out and pray someone even kinda proves me wrong??

sorry this ramble was less at you and more my brain going off on a tangent, thank you for this ask!! You’re welcome about the art!! I am honestly so happy literally anyone likes it at any given point!!

[gets dressed up and made up]

“i feel good and happy :D”

[dad makes me go get him mcdonalds and then screams when my little brother and i can’t remember the 7 separate things he wants and wonders why i look miserable and leave the firehall]

[feel horrible]

[resist urge to wipe makeup off with fingers because i like being able to see and also what little clear skin i have]

[small cheer that i didn’t let myself drive into river]

hurray me

I started another painting and my hand is dead because i’m sitting in the wrong chair

Because my dad laid out another mandate about how no one is allowed in his recliner, even when he’s not home or even wanting to sit in it, because he feels it makes us more disrespectful of him if we sit in it.

if i set up a store, i’m saving up for one of those nice big fuckall recliners that are better than his shitty recliner and then i’m going to live in it.
I’ll live on rice and baked spam for months if i have to, i’ll fucking do it

Mom wants me to walk my little brother through applying for insurance through the state site before it goes away because he heard the news about the vote and had a full blown panic attack. 

Before this shit happened i would have said he didn’t have much to worry about– his income is like $200~ a year because he’s just graduating high school, going to college either this year or next, and he’s working as a volunteer fireman that gets paid $0.25 a call. 
He’s covered on the job, but only on calls– anything outside of that he’s not covered and he’s got a nasty infection in his toe and the VA dropped him from my parent’s insurance because he’s 18.

I figured he could get on my company, but like. Idk if he’ll be able to enroll and be accepted now.