A Smol Raccoon Attempts to Life

this is C from aprocyonwrites trying to have not so many of their life rants dominating their friends facebook feed and also recognising that they are never gonna end up putting this kind of thing on their main aroace agender polyamorous anti-kyriarchal feminist secular humanist they/them/their/themself or kai/kai/kais/kaiself

[aprocyonlifes]

My mother.

Agh. I wrote about her for the 30 day writing challenge I’m doing, without describing her as my mother.

But she’s so... restrictive. Like I’m not allowed to be atypical in any way.

Today I was experimenting with goth style, makeup-ing and clothes-ing, and, because I don’t have black hair and I wanted to have black hair, wig-ing.  Because I own wigs. I have a cosplaying past and semi-present, so.

Any way, my mother came home, opened the door to my room, took one look at me and in the most condescending tone, said; “Have you been playing dress up?”

And it’s so frustrating, because there are grown adults who go about their lives far more ostentatiously and stylistically than my executive dysfunction-y self, goth and otherwise, and yet she makes that fucking face at every personally-maverick stylistic choice I make.

I have to put so much effort into this kind of thing - first of all is usually pushing through my ingrained reaction to new ideas that they’re wrong and weird and not normal, like I’ve ever had any hope of being “normal”.

It’s like she doesn’t want me to express myself, like she doesn’t want me to be able to define myself. She’s condescending and dismissive about labels, and calls my recent, staggered self dxing with autism, ADHD and depression “excuses not to do things”.

I failed 3 of 4 of my subjects last semester at uni, and I’ve taken a leave of absence this semester and she knows nothing about either of those things. Honestly the biggest reason I haven’t told her is because she’ll ask why I hadn’t, and I’ll say I was anxious about it, and she’ll ask why.

She’ll ask why the fuck I’m anxious to talk to her when I’m struggling, because she legitimately has no idea and that’s so fucking awful to think about. She legit has zero understanding of how badly she’s fucked me over.

And now I’m crying all over myself; aren’t I glad using eyeliner on my actual eyes as it’s designed to be used and then smudged by tears is totally abhorrent to my brain. Not that I actually care about my makeup getting fucked up, cos, like, tear tracks are probably very goth.

[aprocyonlifes]

5 good things ye #8

1. Being an nd queer beb, like yes.

2. MY frondsies!!

3. So I had a vodka raspberry/pineapple juice, and I got less sleep than usual, and was much more active than usual. So I’m slightly tipsy, and very tired. Yes, this counts as a good thing, because I am too pseudo-drunk to be sad.

4. Water, my babes

5. Water is so good though! My drink tonight was too heavy on the vodka and also the cordial, and adding a bit of water made it just so good????

[aprocyonlifes]

5 good things aha #7

1. Conviction, a play currently showing at the Northcote Town Hall, a play which is all kinds of relatable to anxiety ridden creative creator me, just, as a writer, as a mentally ill something-resembling-a-millenial-i-guess-if-you-want-to-use-that-word It was so good and Fuck, I related so hard that every terrified reaction to my family that usually interrupts my nonverbalness instincts could do nothing in the face of sweet inability to produce sounds that constitute words 2. High School Musical, honestly - I was inspired to finally consume the high school movie of a partial-generation older than me, and super get why it's such a meme/icon thing??? Like so much???? I just finished the second one and I think I'm gonna watch the third and I just have no idea what I'm doing with myself 3. Waiter!Pearl and also the other gems but Peeeeaaaarl, I'm just so gay, y'all, I can't even 4. It's Over, Isn't It for actually being so painful to listen to, as in, there have been some things happening in my life and this fucking song is good like Conviction is good, liking I'm floating in a sea of being so aware of my pain, all the time, and loving deeply those who feel something like it, too It's just, my soul, you know? It's almost like I have a Rose, you know, but it's not a person, it's my old self or something, some poetic, philosophical, makin'-me-cry bullshit like that. 5. On a simpler, low key-er note, nonverbalness. Being nonverbal can be frustrating, or scary, but the more communication alternatives I learn about, the more peace I gather, the more I assert myself and my identity and my rights and all these things... Everything else falls away and I just get to be tinysmol beb kaiet me It's just so good.

[aprocyonlifes]

5 good things uhm #6

1. hello from the magic tavern!!

2. New superhero-feels boots!

3. New soft and lovely jeans!!

4. New bunches of other things, including underwear and a warm ass jacket!

5. finishing an owlowicious papercraft!!!

[aprocyonlifes]

5 good things aye #5

1. papercrafts!! I made a black&white snow white and almost finished an owlowicious from my little pony today ~~!

2. Fuckin REbecca Sugar, ah my soul

3. Feeling super put together and organised even tho I want to be in bed in 12 mins, but its like, hey, i know exactly what i gotta do and im wizzin thru

4. ive said this before but duolingo, especially the tips and notes sections C:

5. Swivelly headed owls omgggg!!

[aprocyonlifes]

5 good things woo! #4

1. Green tea when not burnt (80 degrees for 80 seconds kids!)

2. Warm milk kind of?? Apparently it makes you sleepy and i am cool with that!

3. STEVEN UNIVERSE AMIRITE????

4. Finally figuring out how fighting gyms works on Pokemon GO, and almost beating my first gym??

5. Bike riding. I could do without the back ache and lack of fitness, but I could also do without the period pain and when bike riding? Gone!

[aprocyonlifes]

5 good things yay #3

1. My commitment to using a different 4th word in everyone of these titles? Let’s see how long I last

2. My GP printed out a “sleep hygiene” fact sheet for me, and it’s so far helpful!

3. I bought “blueberry” hair dye!!

4. I bought an oral spray herbal sleep aid thing?? which, yes

5. I also bought herbal stress relief lozenges C:

[aprocyonlifes]

5 good things y’all #2

1. The utter chillsicle that is me today C:

2. Singing, mfers

3. The outfit I’m wearing right now??? Like, omg - leggings, a zip up demin dress and a sweater with puppies all over it?? I cannot even get over myself, like it’s not going to happen

4. I have a fabric covered notebook from Daiso that is blue with blooming pink roses C:

5. Giggle at the Ghostie, from the very first episode of My Little Pony Friendship is Magic, which I’m pretty sure I’ve put in one of these before, but wow it is just so magical and sweet

[aprocyonlifes]

5 good things hello #1

(continued from my other blog but like restarted here so i dont have to do this on facebook on my hermit days)

1. data entry projects for my mother

2. my girlfriends who im pretty sure actually wont hate me for totally and uncommunicatedly bailed on them today

3. “dont be a dramatic daniel”

4. this one weird “fruit of the loom micromesh underwear” ad that keeps showing up everywhere on youtube

5. booping, lbr, also, related, autistic!new star wars trio C: C:

[aprocyonlifes]

A realisation thing I had:

There are several competing attitudes in my brain all contributing to my body image in their own ways.

The first is the part that asserts that since defining what beauty is is such a terrifying, incoherent task, I may as well just acknowledge that in terms of societal attitudes, beauty = good, and worthy of respect and all that stuff. Labelling people as ugly has become inexorably entwined with other bigoted actions and attitudes, and so, as a person who strives to cement the attitude in my mind that everyone is worthy of unconditional respect as a person, I may as well also decide ugliness is impossible and everyone is beautiful.

Naturally that includes me. As in, I am fucking gorgeous and anyone who thinks anyway different can fuck right off.

The second is the part that asserts that because I am nonbinary, I have a nonbinary body. There is no standard other than this. Were I a woman, I would have a womanly body by definition. Were I a man, I would have a manly body by definition. I represent myself perfectly and there is no change that can be made that can change that level of perfect representation, because I am who I am. That's several ways of saying the same thing, but whatever.

Basically, I am perfectly myself. Thus I am perfect.

The third is the problem. The third is the internalised cissexist misdirected misogynist bullshit society drummed into me from the moment I was conceived. Why can't you just acknowledge that you're a woman? It says. Why do you have to be such a disgusting freak? It says. You may be bad at womanhood, but that's no excuse. It says. It wants me to know that everyone else is right about me, and I'm wrong. I am interpreting my lived experience wrong, because I'm a worthless woman and I must accept that (the other parts of my brain wish to add that I think woman are deific and I love them).

This is where everything gets twisted up, because the part of my brain that asserts me as nonbinary and nonbinary-looking is now so strong that that third part of my brain can't overpower it in that regard. What it does instead is tell me I'm supposed to look like a woman. I don't, and I know that, and I love that, but there's a little voice of shame. I have moments when I look at my face and I hate it. And then I catch myself, because that shame is entirely unproductive and I refuse.

So I do have pretty great fuckin body image, but it's always going to be a work in progress in that way. C:

[aprocyonlifes]

So I have character in a somewhat horrifying situation, I dunno

But their name is Liuyue Lutece and for reasons, they are two bodies/minds that regard themself as being one person and pretend in public to only have the one body/mind

IE, only one of their bodies/minds is in public at any given time, but they live and love and work and study together in private (when I say love, I don’t mean sexually/romantically each other; they have a spouse who knows/acknowledges who they are)

So they talk to themself out loud for completely non-symbolic reasons (a thing that is my best way of doing)

What is my point is that I want to be them right now and instead I’m me and after almost two hours of being my sounding board and discussion buddy someone has left me to do their own thing and I have immediately deflated and started drifting

There’s no point talking aloud or talking things out anymore, it’s just me and my sources and I have to give a shit about what they say and how they say it

Why? is my question, to my brain

Why is all I want to do explore tumblr and eat Coco Pops?

Also, why does is this cat so thirsty for affection, and why is it so sure it will get it from me?

I have so many why questions and my brain is like custard and life is terrible

[aprocyonlifes]

I’m getting scared. I don’t think I should be asking for another extension on this assignment, and I’ve already been given 1 ½ weeks of the 2 weeks my tutor is able to give me and I don’t think my mother realises how much losing the internet has fucked me up.

Taking this away from me doesn’t make me better at reading it just means I reprioritise a little bit, which sure, is good, but there’s a limit, I have limits. I don’t just not read because I’m lazy and buried in the internet, I don’t read because I have brain things clawing at me, blocking me from thinking, from working, and not having the internet isn’t helping anymore.

The worst part is losing the internet at home hasn’t stopped certain behaviours that were always going to be a thing but negligible with proper care but are now a huge problem for totally arbitrary, ableist reasons. Geekandmisandry and thevoidfish and ask-spiderpool and nivvou are lifelines and getting work done isn’t a thing if those blogs aren’t a thing. I need these messages, these little things that say there is pretty and good and gay and love in the world and they’re here for you.

And now I’m two days out from my deadline and I don’t think I can do it on time, it’s just not happening. It’s a fucking annotated bibliography for chrissakes and the only time I feel energised and comfortable working is at home. In the house where I feel enclosed and warm and bustly and workful. Fuck’s sake, you shoulda seen my productivity last night, I was up and about for hours, reading, tidying, cleaning, do washing and putting it away, making tea and doing homework, and all without the internet. And yet, there was that niggling fucking feeling the whole time I was on the computer looking over my linguistics assessment instructions, thinking, if I could just get on the library database I could summarise that article about kathoeys for gender studies, oh god.

As I have already mentioned here, last time I tried to do some solid work outside my parent’s house on this fucking assessment I had a breakdown and a manic episode and I can’t fucking explain why that is because all my mother will say is that I’m lazy, making excuses, not trying. I am fucking trying, I’m trying so hard, and I could do it, I can do it, but if this goes on for much longer I don’t know if I can stick uni out.

I wonder if I could link her to this blog, or have her read my journal, or have her talk to to my counsellor or something, somehow to make her understand.

I talked to one of my seminar leaders about another extension this week as well. I have to email her to lock it in but I’m getting an extra week, and I’m juggling exam prep and that linguistics assessment and the actual essay part of the gender studies bibliography/plan assessment.

I’m really glad I’m doing so well with linguistics that not doing the reading has tripped me up, and that there’s no readings in Auslan. Just little mitigating factors; lifelines.

Bye.

[aprocyonlifes]

My mum thinks she's being helpful by continuing to isolate me from the internet but having that compounded with computer issues means that even if I was motivated to do uni work, which I am, more than before, now, I can't, I absolutely cannot and that is so stressful. I've got a week and a half extension for an essay plan and annotated bibliography, not even the whole 1800 word essay and I sincerely believe it will still be late. I had a breakdown and a manic episode last time I really solidly tried to get up and do it. I can't take it a minute at a time because I don't have the minutes.

[aprocyonlifes]

I'm trying to figure stuff out with regards to my mother's informal diagnosis of me with internet addiction (and her subsequent cutting off of my internet) and there's this test that supposedly has been validated as being a very good indicator of internet addiction and at first I was like, wow, I rank highly for a lot of this and then I realised:

My mother is the only person I hide my internet habits from, my mother is the only person in my life who I feel ashamed about my internet use in the face of, my mother is the only person who gets angry at me about me internet use and the complaints that she voices often stem from wider toxic attitudes that I have already identified as ableist and a fundamental misunderstanding of my experiences and abilities.

And a lot of the other things that fit me are actually better explained by other conditions like executive dysfunction - I don't get school work or chores done whether I have internet access or I don't; I lose track of time because of intrusive thoughts that my already extent sleep difficulties foster; I fear that life without the internet would be boring and joyless because I am used to a vibrant and complexly networked society.

I can live without the internet and I have been proving it. Being without access to an important technology for my education is frustrating, sure, but I have books and notebooks and dressups and makeup and art supplies and texting and friends. I am neuroatypical and mentally ill and have a family history of addiction and yet I have two lovely partners, an entire second family (with weekly special family time that I have never once missed) and a robust educational life that I manage, imho, quite fucking admirably.

My mother wants to paint me as addicted to the internet largely because I am unemployed and because she holds a mostly subconscious belief that unemployed and uneducated people are worthless and that mental illness and developmental disabilities are lies and excuses. She grew up in a toxic family environment and has done nowhere near enough unpacking of that, considering she still feels betrayed that I don't trust her, and still cannot understand why crying makes me feel overwhelmed with shame.

She is an ableist asshole, and immature and uninformed as I can be I am damn sure right about that.