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@frannybaudelaire
I want to start a new tumblr for my comics/writing but I can't decide what to name it. my immediate thought is to just use my instagram handle, for continuity. but then I panic, because then people could find it. but I mean, that's kind of the point to all of this in the end, isn't it? making comics, writing, creating art. I want people to see it. I just feel petrified knowing that people will know that it's me creating it, that they might see me.
in other news, I started making comics (as in I finished one and I have started another) and it's really hard to not want to share ever single bit of progress as I go on instagram. this second one is gonna take forever bc it's a much more detailed idea. this new medium is terrifying and meditative and wonderful. here's the first panel (of 12) of the new one I'm working on. I think it's done.
drawing has never truly been my medium but comics can be anything you want them to be. there's no rules. it's just visual story telling. that's what keeping motivated to try more difficult things, keep going, and trust myself. it might not look like the comics the people I idolize make, but it looks like my art. because it's mine.
I can't keep ignoring this pattern. it's happened in more than one relationship. it's happened in THIS relationship more than once (the last time we dated, and now it's happening again).
why don't I want to admit that I'd rather be dating women? why does it take dating a man for several months, a year, for me to suddenly crack? I want to say that I'm just looking for a reason to sabotage the relationship. really, I'm just uncomfortable with happiness and I want to look for things to pick apart. that's why I'm suddenly putting him under the microscope. that's why I'm suddenly yearning. that's why I don't want to have sex with him.
but it is a pattern. it means something. either I'm a relationship destroyer, or something else. and considering I've known I'm queer since I was 11 years old, it's ridiculous I keep having this conversation with myself. it's embarassing, frankly.
I don't know why it's so hard to just admit it. I mean, that isn't true. I know why. I don't feel like I'm good enough for literally any woman on this planet. I don't feel like I deserve women. I don't think I'm good enough. I don't think a woman would put up with my shit. there are men who think I'm amazing for whatever reason. it's easy. I can offer them things. they're easy to care for. I don't have anything to offer women, I don't understand most of them. I've had heartbreaking friendship endings, I haven't had a close relationship with a woman in years.
is that what it is? I think I find men attractive but honestly I'm so greyscale bodies mean very little to me. naked flesh barely registers. but hips do something to me, the though of putting my hand on the small of a woman's back is intriguing.
I hate that I'm 34 years old, have been queer most of my life, and still am afraid of what I want.
I want to crash out about something but I can't because my dad is home and I can't even rant about it on my bluesky bc my boyfriend reads it and he'll want to ask questions and I don't want to talk about it yet. I just want to scream about the fact that I CANT CRASH ABOUT ABOUT IT and have to schedule in this crash out for tomorrow at 11am when my father leaves for work, because I live in a house with NO DOORS (we have curtains for doors bc it's a very small and old house) so I have to try to pack this feeling away until tomorrow when I have the house to myself and can wail and shriek and scream and rip my skin off.
the ODSP odyssey continues. I'm just going to have to find a way to be well enough to get a job. the world seems to think I'm not trying hard enough not to be disabled, I'm starting to think it myself. my mental health is plummeting. and the funniest part about that is apparently the tribunal only really cares about things up to the point of their rejection date- which was September. so the fact that I'm worse now? irrelevant. the fact that the stress of handling this is making is worse? irrelevant.
but it's fine. I started a new save file in an old pokemon game because I'm too poor to own a switch 2 and disappear into pokopia. I'm going back to Galar. me and Hop are going to explore and I'm FINE. I'M WELL. ME AND GROOKY ARE GOING TO BE BEST FRIENDS.
doctor will fix me they'll do a scan and find a terrible darkness seated in my stomach and be like "oh my god we're so sorry we were supposed to remove this at birth like everyone else, i don't know how this was missed, we're so sorry you've been living like this your whole life" and it'll fix my brain too and all clouds will part
my boyfriend told me I should dream and envision the day I'll have space for a studio and we can make it come true, and I told him that I've got lots of dreams but really I've stopped trying to envision things. at some point it just feels like I'm being mean to myself because there are zero pathways to any of these things becoming actual reality.
he said that was sad, and you have to dream or you'll go crazy. I argued it's actually the opposite for me, because I end up spiraling and becoming more depressed when I see how there are no realistic ways to make these things happen, it all starts to feel incredibly hopeless and I just get pulled into the void. so now I focus on trying to find ways to make realistic "dreams".
which really equates to small, attainable, short term goals. projects instead of dreams. things I can actually do in a very short amount of time. because my whole life changed so fast, I had to give up so many dreams so quickly and I'm still accepting that loss. things are too unpredictable now, I don't want to have to give up more dreams.
I guess that was too sad because he hasn't said anything back to that yet. was that too dark pissy baby?
trying to remind myself that I can be everything is pointless 🥳
instead of everything is pointless 💀
but like, my god the joys are just so much harder to find these days.
I keep circling back to this same part of the pit of despair. it's two-fold. one, is that I was already doing so poorly in life before my health took a turn and disabled me. and really, upon reflection, was years of puttering around as a lost, undiagnosed autistic adult who just constantly struggled with depression from burning out and not understanding what was happening. I thought I was just a broken loser for years. it was a cycle of finding a new path, passion, or job, doing really well for a while, then crashing and burning. I couldn't keep friends. my life was always a mess in one way or another. I struggled with alcohol, food, sex, everything. I was always just barely staying above water. I tried 7 different school programs, barely graduated two. nothing worked.
my health declined when I found what could've been an unconventional career, but my lack of social skills already had fucked it. it wasn't my health, it was me. it was my inability to understand people and social dynamics. I ruined it myself, not my health. I wasn't doing so hot even if I had been healthy. as my health declined more, I did actually find a dream job but it was way too fucking late. if I had found that job 10 years ago it would've been perfect. a dream. but it wasn't possible, and leaving there felt like a cruel twist of fate. the second fold of the pit is coming back to this same feeling I had before I realized I was autistic, or something like it. that there's something wrong with me. that I'm a bad person who's deserving of punishment. that this illness was just more of the same. I'm not meant to do well in life, I must not be. because no matter what I try, something comes and takes me out. it feels like the universe really did not want me to succeed, it seems to be doing everything in its power to make sure I have never once had the right formula for success. not in childhood, not in adulthood. it's always these factors that are beyond my control and make me feel helpless.
now, even if my doctors get me on the right drug cocktail and my pains are gone- I'll still be the idiot who was constantly ruining their life. it's not as if I'll "get back" some life that was so amazing. when I see a lot of the people on tiktok doing their inspirational posts it blows my mind. I would just be back to applying for entry-level jobs at 34, probably working retail, hoping for an arts gig, and maybe having more energy to make art. and trying to avoid burn out. trying to make a living with my art. that I still can't get my brain to work with me on.
maybe I can't imagine having my brain back. maybe I haven't had it in longer than I thought. maybe I was never as smart as I thought. maybe it isn't brain fog, maybe I'm just not good at things. I'm a scattered mess, I think I probably always have been. my track record looks like that's probably true. so would any "cure" change that? is there getting better from this? there would be less pain. I'm so sick of being in pain all the time. I feel like I remember thinking better when there isn't a gnawing agony playing in the background at all times. a lingering fatigue.
I don't know. there are threads in here to chase. the moral of the story is that the world has always made me feel wrong, strange, and terrible. I've always been bad at being alive. people have been telling me my whole life that I'm awful. so this pain, this fatigue, this rot- it feels almost deserved. there's a part of me that feels like it doesn't even make a difference being disabled, because what was I doing with my life anyway? I've had so many grand plans, ideas, schemes. I've chased dreams. they've all ended the same. stuck with myself. in the pit. sinking in tar.
I just realized the feeling is exactly the same. it suddenly was so familiar, and I went- ah. it's my fault. I deserve it. it might be "unfair", I can scream all I want- but it's always been this way, and nothing I can do seems to change it. it's me.
I've been trying to spiral less and so I've just been ruminating less. which is to say, thinking less. but that unfortunately won't be possible as I miss my brain more than anything in the world, the worst symptom of my illnesses is brain fog BY FAR, and so I'm trying to read more so that I can write and have a practice again. which means thinking. which means allowing despair to be a part of my life. I just need to find a way to put it in a manageable corner, a containable box that has manageable parameters.
do I have any idea how to do this? not at all. but there has to be a way for it to be a part of life without taking over and becoming an all consuming monster that rampages the city.
my tribunal date is May 27th and I've seen legal aid and all I can do is wait. when I told my family that I finally got my date for the tribunal, they weren't even phased. I was absolutely shattered. of course I got it while I was away, dealing with other family nonsense that I got roped into, but that's a whole other can of worms. but the fact that everyone else was like "oh well. at least you got the date". yes, and it was nearly 6 months from the day I was given it. well over 6 months from the day the last stage was rejected. does anyone remember how I'm unemployed?
does anyone remember how they could still deny me at the end of the tribunal? at the end of which I still won't have an answer? apparently they have up to 60 day I believe (or was it 90) to give me their answer. of course. because why wouldn't I have to wait yet again. this whole process is inhumane. I don't understand any of it at all. they genuinely don't care how you survive, if you survive.
the whole point is that you're applying for this because you can't work. but how am I supposed to survive if I don't? there was a job posting that is an absolute hail mary, it's at a local arts org that's super niche and well suited to me. I applied, bc it's just for reception, but I know I likely won't even get an email back because one- the current job market, two- arts jobs are coveted, and three- it's most likely they'll just hire someone they know. I told my mum and she said "well if you work won't it mess up your application?" WOMAN. do you not understand what my life is right now?
if I can find a job that I can somehow do that pays more than the measly $900 a month ODSP will give me, isn't that a better play anyway? especially since it isn't even a guarantee I'm going to win this? I can't build a life with ODSP. it isn't a long-term plan, how can it be? shouldn't I be trying? isn't that what people want from me? I thought everyone thought I was lazy and useless. maybe I'm projecting. or do they think I just don't need money because I don't leave the house or have a life anyway, so they don't understand why I'm stressed out?
my dad is currently giving me $500 a month to pay my credit card minimums and live off. how is it fair to expect him to do that until May, and potentially longer? he already gives my mother money every month for "alimony" (that whether she needs or is entitled to is questionable) and it's not like he's making huge bucks, he's not some aggressively rich man he works as a quality inspector at a plant. the legal aid people told me to apply for OW, but I won't quality for housing so it will probably be less than $500 a month anyway. I still need to do it, but I keep putting it off bc it's just another fucking form to fill out. more invasive shit to deal with. yet another hit to my ego.
I'm mostly trying not to think about it. because what can I do. I'm going to try to make some art and get into some arts markets. I'm going to try to start writing again. my body has been a wreck post-christmas, my migraines are worse, I'm falling apart. but I need to find a way to build a life. I turned 34 before christmas and I feel the weight of my body slowly failing me every day. the immense weight of how wasting the decade before this royally fucked me.
I used to say at least I got fun stories out of the past ten years, but now my memory is getting worse and worse. it just feels like nothing I did mattered, I'm just here now. existing.
another milestone. another week thinking about my ex. I do still miss him. I don't know if he misses me, or if he would forgive me. or if things would be better. I do have clarity, and not just self loathing, to recognize the parts I did wrong. to recognize what I didnt appreciated about him, which probably made him feel shitty, which probably made him stop trying as much. which made me feel resentful, and then I stopped trying. ad nauseum. I can't say which is chicken or egg. I also know what he did that was objectively shitty. those parts are still true. that would still have to change. that's not forgotten. I just have given it enough thought to realize it's not one sided. I was also an asshole. and that's the truth.
ugh. I wanna text him so bad. even if it would be a whole thing. it would probably just break my heart and be stupid. he probably hates me anyway. I'm just sad and dealing with a lot and that's so much to ask anyone to take on anyway. that isn't fair.
he showed up with a birthday present. he meant to show up & drop it off on my porch and slip away but I was out there smoking. it was awkward and hard. I said I had wanted to text but assumed he wouldn't want that. he said I was still an important person to him and he knew I was going through a hard time.
he got me the new pokemon game. I'm a wreck.
another milestone. another week thinking about my ex. I do still miss him. I don't know if he misses me, or if he would forgive me. or if things would be better. I do have clarity, and not just self loathing, to recognize the parts I did wrong. to recognize what I didnt appreciated about him, which probably made him feel shitty, which probably made him stop trying as much. which made me feel resentful, and then I stopped trying. ad nauseum. I can't say which is chicken or egg. I also know what he did that was objectively shitty. those parts are still true. that would still have to change. that's not forgotten. I just have given it enough thought to realize it's not one sided. I was also an asshole. and that's the truth.
ugh. I wanna text him so bad. even if it would be a whole thing. it would probably just break my heart and be stupid. he probably hates me anyway. I'm just sad and dealing with a lot and that's so much to ask anyone to take on anyway. that isn't fair.
WHAT'S LEFT NOW?
this isn't hitting on instagram. I didn't expect it to but it still hurts, so why not see if the void over here likes it instead.
xerography will always be my baby. something about photocopying direct to paper hits different than scanning. even if I scan it back into the digital world to share and shenanigan, that clean xero on paper (last image) is like nothing else.
I captured this before watching the new Frankenstein, but every time I do xerography I call it being in the lab, so honestly looking at this now all I can see Mary Shelley & making monsters.
I don't know how to balance my craving to do more with my body's limitations. is this the boulder I will push up the hill for the rest of my life? I felt SO GOOD, mentally and physically, for what felt like weeks (I have no concept of time, it was probably shorter). I thought the flare was over? easing? I was getting to a new normal, at least. and then I absolutely stumbled, tripped, and fell into a crash last night. I felt it coming, but I was fighting it.
I made a mug of coffee, took maybe two sips, but I could feel that I couldn't keep my eyes open. it was only 4pm, so I laid down for a nap (which I never do bc then I usually can't sleep at night) bc I was afraid I was going to fall asleep holding my coffee. it was the kind of tired you feel in your chest, pulling the air out of you. not tired, FATIGUE. I feel like fatigue people know what I mean. there's a difference between the two. I was out lightning fast. and when I woke up it was 10pm and my dad was getting ready for bed.
so I had a cigarette, took my night meds, and got back in bed. I was out before an episode of a show was over I think. and slept until 8am. I think it all rounds out to 15ish hours of sleep. and honestly, I could absolutely have kept sleeping this morning. but I feel bad about making my dad stay quiet in the morning when he only has so much time before he leaves for work. so I pried my eyes open.
I can feel the fatigue in my chest today too, sitting heavy on my sternum and across my breast plate. it tugs on my eyelids too, I can never seem to keep them all the way open when the fatigue hits. it's always another round of mini-mourning when a symptom that had eased off for a while comes back. it's always straight to self-blame, you feel like it's a punishment for something. for living life. even if what you were doing wasn't particularly fun or enjoyable, but just meeting requirements for being alive or obligations you didn't ask for.
I wasn't going to leave the house today, I was going to rest and maybe push it with some enjoyable low-energy art things. but I got squeezed in for a blood test I have to do for a new medication, so unfortunately Sick Admin takes priority. it always takes priority. people tell you not to make being sick your whole personality, but tell that to the appointments made out of my control that have no concern for my schedule. tell that to my knees that scream with pain when I stand for too long, which prevents me from going to all of the cool events I just get to see pictures of on instagram after. tell that to my body, that decided I NEEDED to sleep last night, despite having planned in my head that I was going to finally go see this band play last night despite my screaming knees- but doors were at 8pm and I woke up delirious at 10pm.
this month is so busy & I was optimistic bc I had been feeling so much better mentally and physically. but as it's ramping up I am starting to crack. unfortunately we are not even at the busiest part yet. so, all I can control is the mental. I am practicing combating negative self-talk with speaking to myself like a small, soft creature. it has pretty good results if I can stay on top of it. I have to remind myself that all I can do is work with what I can control, and the rest I have to go loose. move with what we can't change like it's a current, don't thrash against it- that's how you drown from exhaustion. it's fine if things move too fast, too slow, things will move as they move. you can only do what you can with what you have, and if stuff doesn't happen- it's okay. things are unfair, they are, and so you have to just do what you can- and that is not only enough, it's spectacular. because when things are stacked against you, getting it done in any fashion is worth being celebrated. you're okay, even if things are out of your control and it's scary, you have what you need in this moment and for right now, it's okay. for right now, don't think about the future so much. just be in the moment, and take the time to feel okay.
realizing your thirst for validation on social media (and just in general) for your art comes from your parents never saying they're proud of you as a child is deeply humiliating. like what do you mean I'm turning 34 years old this month and have mini mental breakdowns about not getting likes on instagram bc my parents didn't give verbal praise for anything as a child. that's embarassing. it's not like knowing the reason is a magical solution to solving the problem either! ok so I have to practice telling myself I'm proud of myself and somehow accepting that's enough, and eventually it'll be enough. eventually. but it's going to take a long time. and it's still going to feel silly and kinda embarassing that I just want to hear people say they're proud of me and like what I do.
it's honestly so small? but it feels so big.
my internal review was rejected and now I have to go to the social benefits tribunal and get legal aid, and I'm fighting desperately not to spiral. what do you mean I have to get a lawyer, seek legal counsel, build a legal case to fight for less than $900 a month. I have a get a lawyer to defend me and argue that I'm disabled, not a doctor. my doctor already agrees, already submitted paperwork that he agrees. and now I'm trying to convince a bunch of bureaucrats of my right to less than poverty wages. I have to convince a bunch of people with no medical degrees that I am disabled and cannot work, that I have no other option than asking for help, that I would rather go get a job & be independent if I could.
it's almost gaslighting me into believing them. is that why they do this? I'm spinning out trying to think of potential jobs I might be able to do after all. what if I get rejected again. my dad can't support me forever and the $500 he's giving me is barely enough to stay afloat with my credit card minimum. how is this going to work long term? an extra $300 a month isn't going to solve much. I'll never pay down that card. I'll never afford to live alone. life will just continue as it has, surviving this way. maybe it won't feel so bad if I know it's "secure". if I have health benefits. I don't know.
maybe my negativity really is holding me back. maybe it is mind over matter. maybe I need to push through the pain. but I know from history that only ends in crashes. thats a pattern of get job, keep job, lose job. no forward movement. just stepping on rakes over and over like a cartoon.
I'm tired. I don't even know where to start. I guess calling legal aid on Monday. I see my GP on Wednesday. I don't know. fuck ODSP.
sketchbook scans. because I haven't shared art here in forever? maybe some of these are repeats, I can't even remember the last time I shared something that wasn't an incoherent rambling. but these are nice clean scans, so they're improvments regardless.
I have been feeling well enough to sketch and experiment this week, and who knows what tomorrow will bring, but I'm capitalizing on it. not being well enough to do art in all of this "free time" I've had while not working has been soul crushing. this is the most time I've had to myself since leaving art school 6 years ago, and the least art I've produced. being chronically ill & disabled sucks the joy from life sometimes, but I'm trying to take it where I can.
there's a group show at the gallery I volunteer at in december, so my goal is to have a new piece I'm happy with ready in time to submit at the end of november. I also have a block ready to print, and another design ready to carve. I'm trying. it's just slow, and there's always something in the way (survival). I'm waiting on ODSP to acknowledge my request for an internal review, so I'm in limbo. I love survival purgatory.
anyway. no need to dwell. nothing I can do. just breathe, create, and try to find a reason to keep going in all this.
