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Sep. 3rd, 2019

I want to write a proper blog, but I've been so exhausted with all the housekeeping and taking care of a special needs child almost on my own, I just don't have the energy.

When I get free moments where I'm not just trying to sleep, I find myself playing YoWorld or practicing loom knitting on my afghan loom, or drinking alcohol and listening to random music on YouTube.

I'm just so exhausted.

I'm trying to hold everyone else together, and I don't have enough left to write about my own shit properly, even though I want to.
Very overwhelmed, crying at the drop of a hat, exhausted physically and emotionally. I feel like I am drowning.

This isn't just about laundry.

I feel like eating a handful of moonshine-infused cherries, and I just might do it. Because men are trash, and I am NOT YOUR FUCKING LAUNDRY MAID.

Either put the laundry in the basket or in the basement, without the socks balled up, or I AM DONE DOING YOUR FUCKING LAUNDRY.

You don't get to throw a hissy fit and leave the room in order to avoid saying something you'll regret, leaving the unspoken words hanging there, so I can worry and wonder and overthink what you were gonna say.

"Before I say something I regret," when you know saying even THAT means I'm gonna torment myself all night wondering what you were gonna say to me.

So, yeah, now your laundry is thrown into your drawer, unfolded, because why the fuck would I continue folding your laundry after that, and who the fuck do you think you are

Gonna take me doing your laundry for granted, suggest *I* un-ball your socks, and then act like *I* am in the wrong for suggesting you do your own laundry if you are going to make all these precious little requests?

And this isn't just about laundry, because I know I must sound very "extra" going on about laundry. It's about so much more than that.

AND WHY THE FUCK IS LIVEJOURNAL SAYING MY IP ADDRESS IS TEMPORARILY BANNED. I CAN'T RIGHT NOW. (NB: Had to change password, apparently; I originally wrote all this on Twitter.)


I don't want to cry

i was so upset, i forgot my dog was still outside and so now i am garbage too

My first tattoo :-)

Saturday, I got my first tattoo, in celebration of my 10 years of recovery from self-injury.

A local animal rescue group had partnered with a local tattoo shop, to provide 40 dollar tattoos, with all the proceeds going to the animal rescue group. There were two sheets of tattoos you could choose from.

I chose a semi-colon tattoo with a pawprint as part of it. I've wanted a semi-colon tat for awhile, because I love what it represents (look up Project Semi-Colon), and animals are dear to me and are part of what motivates me to work on being the best person I can be.

I was very nervous about getting the tattoo. Wifey had told me the pain was going to be horrific. As it turns out, it really didn't hurt that bad. I was literally like: "That's it?"

I was also very nervous about my scars. I picked a place on my right arm, which is much less scarred than my left, but still has noticeable scars on it. But the tattoo artist didn't act fazed at all. He told me he'd tattooed over scars that were more raised than mine before, and that if I ever wanted to get tattoos over any of my scars, it was absolutely possible, as long as I went to an experienced tattoo artist (one with familiarity with scar tissue), and as long as the scars were completely healed for a long time. This was awesome information to receive, because that means I have more options than I thought for placement of future tattoos I would like to save up for and to get at some point in time.

It was an incredible experience, and I am so fucking happy.

My best friend Mary went with me, and she also got a tattoo. We had to wait a couple of hours, and the tattoo place texted us when they were ready for us. So we spent the time going to a cute little handcrafted items shop, a HUGE antique shop (I got rainbow unicorn salt and pepper shakers and a book for Nate), and then getting iced coffee, because it was hot as balls outside. It was really good having some quality one-on-one time with her, just hanging out and chatting.

I've been in pretty good spirits since Saturday, although the itching as the tattoo heals is kinda driving me crazy right now!


As of today, I have not self-injured in 10 years!!!
I'm having a really, really hard time... Haven't felt this terrible for a very long time. I'm scared.


I haven't written in ages, but I just wanted to update to say that things are kinda rough right now, and I really need to vent and talk, but I just haven't had the energy. I hope I'll find the energy soon.


Vacations and lack thereof.

So, I was planning to go with wifey and little Nate when they go to Alabama to visit wifey's parents next month. She's not out to them; they are very homophobic, and have said they would disown a child who was LGBTQ. They know me as a very good friend to my wifey, and they know that Nate calls me momo. And they actually really like me a lot, but as I said, they don't know the true relationship between wifey and me. I was fine with being closeted while visiting; not ideal, but I can handle it. But I'm worried how my dog Macy would handle the very long car ride, because she gets horribly car sick, even with dramamine or benadryl. Leaving her home with ambigu-sweetie isn't an option, because he works over 8 hours a day, and Macy needs crated when home alone, and I don't want her crated for such a long period 5 days a week. Also, I really didn't want to just leave my garden to die, and ambigu-sweetie probably wouldn't tend to it very well, honestly. I could trust him to take care of my 3 cats, and that's about it. And 4 days are going to be spent with wifey's sister Teresa, and she's really intimidating and unhealthy, and so are her adult children, so I didn't really want to stay over with them. What really sealed the deal on me deciding not to go to Alabama, though, is now the trip has been extended to roughly 3 weeks. I really don't want to be away for 3 weeks, at all. 2 weeks would have been fine, but not 3 weeks.

So, I am going to stay home. I wish it would be a lot of time to myself, and it will be, mostly! But ambigu-sweetie will also be here, when he's not at work, and when he's not playing video games or watching stuff on Netflix.

It does kinda suck that I'm not going, because I hate for wifey to have to wrangle Nate mostly by herself. Plus, I feel really guilty because I know Nate is going to miss me. And then I feel even guiltier, because I'm kinda looking forward to things being quiet, and less messy, and not having to worry that Nate will get upset and hit me or throw something at me (he has been struggling with extra aggression since the structure of school is done for the Summer). Of course, I'm sure once Nate's been gone for 2 days, I'm going to be desperate for him to be home. Also, wifey is probably going to make a day trip to Panama City Beach in Florida, and I've never really been to the Ocean, and wanted to go.

Wifey said we can eventually try to save up to drive to Myrtle Beach for a couple of days/nights, though. First, though, we're saving up for our extremely belated honeymoon, which we want to have at a cabin in Hocking Hills, here in Ohio. The belated honeymoon is a goal for an anniversary. This year will be our 3rd handfasting anniversary, but we probably won't have enough money saved up by September (we have about 25 dollars saved up, and need 200 total). So, hopefully next year?

On a much sadder note, one of wifey's cousins has died by suicide. Wifey didn't know her very well, and hadn't seen her since she was a small child. The cousin was 36, a veteran of Iraq, and a 911 operator. It's hitting wifey pretty hard, because even though she barely remembers this cousin, the cousin was so young, and suicide is never timely, of course. And she's really worried about her aunt and her mom, because they are not in great health. I didn't know this woman at all, but I'm so sorry she didn't feel there was another option for her. I hope and pray she is at peace now, and I hope and pray for anyone with suicidal thoughts to seek help. It really can get better, and help is out there. There are people who care, including me. RIP Carrie.

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