We just knew.
As a reminder, this is what she looks like:

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We just knew.
As a reminder, this is what she looks like:
hold on i have to go make a reservation
100% am not ashamed of my love for you, Adam. Crush THAT!
you know i love you, v.
100 percent.
S/o to the people with crushes on me who are too afraid to tell me. Y’all pussy but l understand
shout out to dancing all crazy at weddings
sometimes you don’t feel at home in this world.
you’re off. you’re pressing things.
you know you need to just calm yourself.
start by putting a stop to all your speculating and all your expecting. stop fucking allowing yourself to be so internally restless. stop feeding that energy.
you need to find some small warm little grounded act and then step into the doing of that act. something simple and real. read a story. cook something. settle yourself by being where you are and seeing what’s right in front of you. you just need to be actively using your attention to be doing what it is you’re actually currently fucking doing. there’s nothing tricky about it. and you know this works.
you can do it. so you do. you get into your small act.
and of course you feel yourself settling back into yourself.
and at least for a stretch now, it’s all ok again.
there you are.
you’re good. stay here.
The Third Elegy
by Rainer Maria Rilke
It is one thing to sing the beloved. Another, alas, to invoke that hidden, guilty river-god of the blood. Her young lover, whom she knows from far away–what does he know of the lord of desire who often, up from the depths of his solitude, even before she could soothe him, and as though she didn’t exist, held up his head, ah, dripping with the unknown, erect, and summoned the night to an endless uproar. Oh the Neptune inside our blood, with his appalling trident. Oh the dark wind from his breast out of that spiraled conch. Listen to the night as it makes itself hollow. O stars, isn’t it from you that the lover’s desire for the face of his beloved arises? Doesn’t his secret insight into her pure features come from the pure constellations?
Not you, his mother: alas, you were not the one who bent the arch of his eyebrows into such expectation. Not for you, girl so aware of him, not for your mouth did his lips curve themselves into a more fruitful expression. Do you really think that your gentle steps could have shaken him with such violence, you who move like the morning breeze? Yes, you did frighten his heart; but more ancient terrors plunged into him at the shock of that feeling. Call him… but you can’t quite call him away from those dark companions. Of course, he wants to escape, and he does; relieved, he nestles into your sheltering heart, takes hold, and begins himself. But did he ever begin himself, really? Mother, you made him small, it was you who started him; in your sight he was new, over his new eyes you arched the friendly world and warded off the world that was alien. Ah, where are the years when you shielded him just by placing your slender form between him and the surging abyss? How much you hid from him then. The room that filled with suspicion at night: you made it harmless; and out of the refuge of your heart you mixed a more human space in with his night-space. And you set down the lamp, not in that darkness, but in your own nearer presence, and it glowed at him like a friend. There wasn’t a creak that your smile could not explain, as though you had long known just when the floor would do that… And he listened and was soothed. So powerful was your presence as you tenderly stood by the bed; his fate, tall and cloaked, retreated behind the wardrobe, and his restless future, delayed for a while, adapted to the folds of the curtain.
And he himself, as he lay there, relieved, with the sweetness of the gentle world you had made for him dissolving beneath his drowsy eyelids, into the foretaste of sleep-: he seemed protected…But inside: who could ward off, who could divert, the floods of origin inside him? Ah, there was no trace of caution in that sleeper; sleeping, yes but dreaming, but flushed with what fevers: how he threw himself in. All at once new, trembling, how he was caught up and entangled in the spreading tendrils of inner event already twined into patterns, into strangling undergrowth, prowling bestial shapes. How he submitted. Loved. Loved his interior world, his interior wilderness, that primal forest inside him, where among decayed treetrunks his heart stood, light-green. Loved. Left it, went through his own roots and out, into the powerful source where his little birth had already been outlived. Loving, he waded down into more ancient blood, to ravines where Horror lay, still glutted with his fathers. And every Terror knew him, winked at him like an accomplice. Yes, Atrocity smiled…Seldom had you smiled so tenderly, mother. How could he help loving what smiled at him. Even before he knew you, he had loved it, for already while you carried him inside you, it was dissolved in the water that makes the embryo weightless. No, we don’t accomplish our love in a single year as the flowers do; an immemorial sap flows up through our arms when we love. Dear girl, this: that we loved, inside us, not One who would someday appear, but seething multitudes; not just a single child, but also the fathers lying in our depths like fallen mountains; also the dried-up riverbeds of ancient mothers-; also the whole soundless landscape under the clouded or clear sky of its destiny-: all this, my dear, preceded you. And you yourself, how could you know what primordial time you stirred in your lover. What passions welled up inside him from departed beings. What women hated you there. How many dark sinister men you aroused in his young veins. Dead children reached out to touch you…Oh gently, gently, let him see you performing, with love, some confident daily task, lead him out close to the garden, give him what outweighs the heaviest night… Restrain him…
Just wanted to let you know that I’m about to leave to see my parents since all that discussion a month ago. I’ve taken some time to reread what you wrote & stew in it some. Idk, just feeling very anticipatory. Spent some more time today just feeding my stubborn side, steeling my resolve or whatever, so I can fall back on it if the road gets rough. Thanks again for the long post, Adam, it's been super helpful orienting myself in all this.
of course. and you got this. you can handle it.
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sup brah. just crossed this page looking for something from the past. miss you. -huff
well damn! a blast from the past. miss you too, homie.Â
hope you’re good these days.
Well Adam, I talked with my mom last night for two hours and things were calmer and I’m feeling slight optimistim. Everything personal and moral aside, my mom's worried about me detransitioning + health effects. I guess at the heart of the matter I know this is the right choice for this moment and regardless of regret, I’m currently digging myself out of a number of ruts I’ve been trapped in. Dude! I hate feeling like a shitty kid. How do you deal with feeling like a shitty kid.
maybe i’ll just answer this one and not your multi-part background and question that i’ve been thinking about since you sent it. for everyone else, sorry you won’t have all the facts but i wasn’t sure how to post the multiple messages and i think you’ll do fine with context clues and general vibe if you even choose to read all of what i’m about to say which let’s be honest you probably won’t. anyway...
you’ll get out of those ruts. you’re going to be fine. and obviously like first off you’re not a shitty kid at all no matter how much it sometimes feels that way. like, i think your concern for them is a clear sign of that. but your bravery with respect to embracing your truth despite the difficulties and your willingness to be concerned about yourself if you visit these parents who might not be able to be supportive in the way you need right now is not being a bad kid--it’s being the kind of person every parent should hope they can raise.
to be honest i have a lot of thoughts on this subject. i’m not big on the idea that we inherently owe our parents all that much. i didn’t ask to be born and wtf for a lot of the years i knew my parents, especially early on, i was just a fucking kid! like the weight of responsibility and what is required of us isn’t automatic. a lot of parents in this world deserve absolutely nothing from their kids. obviously a lot of parents were like constant miracles who are rightfully held by their kids as like givers of something that can never be fully appreciated or paid back. but like it’s important to embrace the specifics of your own relationships. i think that there’s a way in which parent and kid, like, become funny labels and roles and like archetypes that haunt us and that rather than clarify can sort of confuse our perceptions about what we owe each other. sometimes growing up my father would be angry with me and talk about how i had like wronged “the family” and i would be so frustrated. oh is the family mad? ask the family to explain then. because don’t you mean you? or do you mean him or her? like in a way there’s no family, just us. people who can speak for themselves and have various and nuanced senses of what we want and need from each other. i just think the experience of feeling like a shitty kid is sometimes tied up in a framework in which you don’t get to be an equal party or like treated as someone who has the right to control their own life,
i guess this is what i’d say about being the bad kid. i’ve played that part. and i have felt bad about being the bad kid, too. to various degrees of intensity on both fronts at various times over the years. much of that experience is about how i have had a pretty major divide in outlook and expectations and many other things with my dad and stepmom. for so many years i had this deep sense of conflict with them. growing up i felt like i was always the bad kid and that i couldn’t ever fully be myself at all with them and that when they were involved in my life i had to be on guard and that i’d never feel like just being myself was safe. and when i grew up i didn’t like that experience and eventually we stopped talking for like a decade. i just kind of went off grid on them.Â
now today we can talk and we can visit. and i can totally feel like myself around them.Â
am i still sort of the bad kid? yes, definitely, but it’s kind of ok in my heart and fine ultimately.Â
really for me i had to accept that i had to put my own oxygen mask on first, no matter how mad anybody was going to get at me. and then in those years of silence a funny thing happened. i think i began to feel solid enough in myself that there didn’t seem much threat from them anymore? and i think they kind of were humbled by the sense that i wasn’t a sure thing and that they’d rather have the bad kid than no kid. so like yes a shift in power happened for sure but it was also a softening and a kind of acceptance i never expected.
growing up i always had these imaginary battles and arguments and like imaginary trials in my head as if i was prepping for some vague future day where my dad and i would argue it all out ultimately and i’d show him he was wrong and do so so decisively that he’d believe what i believed and change things and everything would be fixed.Â
needless to say that’s not how it worked out. instead we never fixed it really. we never sorted out who was ultimately right or wrong along the way. but you know what? it’s still fine. we can still hang out. we can still be a family. i don’t have to watch fox news with him and he doesn’t have to like my choices. there’s still plenty there that’s good. imperfect is fine. even fucked up is fine as long as it’s not hurting you.Â
when you feel like a bad kid that’s the pain/worry of disappointing people you don’t want to disappoint. and that feeling can keep certain selfish or shitty impulses in check i think.Â
but also the truth about being a real person, an adult who has to take care of themselves and navigate a tricky world, is sometimes you do have to disappoint people. it’s often the healthy and responsible thing to do. and parents--even disappointed parents--would do well to really see what’s happening in those moments so that they realize they’re not dealing with a bad kid, they’re dealing with an adult who is doing what needs to be done. it may be disappointing but it’s not unfair.Â
i think you look out for your parents as best you can but you should make sure to look out for yourself even more sometimes. you seek love, health, and reciprocity. you try to proceed with a sense of both care and integrity.Â
but mostly forget the guilt. guilt is very limited in terms of how informative it is. as kafka teaches us so decisively, you don’t even need a reason to feel guilty. you often just feel guilt and then start searching for reasons. that’s not where to put your energy with respect to your parents.
i have no idea if anybody else can follow this since i didn’t post the whole initial backstory but i’m really just trying to talk to you and be encouraging. i’m proud of you based on everything i’ve heard and i deeply relate to some of what you’ve said about your parents. it sounds like there might be some good signs now and i’m so glad to hear that.
embrace what’s positive and healthy from them and calmly reject everything else with as much kind patience as the situation allows, but also here’s a tip: reject the unhealthy stuff with a this-is-already-decided vibe, a strictly personal firmness that is declaratory rather than accusatory, you want to say stuff that’s more like “i am not willing to discuss this. i told you i am not comfortable discussing this and i expect that decision to respected.” rather than like “you always do this” “please stop criticizing me!” or like just generally defending decisions or perceptions you have that aren’t actually up for debate. you get to set those boundaries and that really is that. you get set those lines and not tolerate them being ignored or blurred. you just have to be consistent and clear.
anyway i guess i’m saying to just trust your instincts about the visit, like either way. and just speak clearly about what you won’t be accepting from them because you do get to make sure you’re feeling ok. know what i mean? you’re strong and articulate and their worries will ultimately be calmed by the reality of the future you’re heading into. and i’m sure that beneath the stuff they bring to the table that feels unhelpful they must have a sense of the truth about you. their fears aren’t the reality and you may have to help them see reality by not letting them treat their fears as if they’re real and by i guess just fucking letting them see that the very same poise and sense of self that you possess as you make tough decisions and as you’re communicating with them is going to be exactly what you use to move forward and navigate your future--a future which will demonstrate that they didn’t need to be so afraid all along.
god i hope some of that is helpful or at least maybe makes some sense. please do get at me if you want to talk more about any of this.
guess what i had for breakfast
goodnight tumblr. i’ma answer some of these asks tomorrow. appreciate y’all.
Hey Adam are you game for tough personal asks? I know theyre a pain to answer, just want to make sure before I hit one your way. Theres something relieving in asking a stranger what to do even if you don't do it. I felt that in that last ask. Helps you imagine your situation a little more. Like, you're not a friend of mine & so youre not involved but your style feels familiar.
i’m so open to that. please please ask away.