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"It's not about winning... this is an adventure." ❄️ Langa Hasegawa RP blog (SK8 the Infinity) ❄️  ☃️ Written by Kenny | Mutual Exclusive | Selective | High Activity ☃️

[snxwboarder]

open to OCs, self inserts & other fandoms

18+ mun with 10 years of rp experience

🍁 Just a Canadian mun happy to see a Canadian muse, eh 🍁

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[snxwboarder]

^^^^ I LIVE HERE NOW????

//Lil (happy) life updates on the blog that I sorta abandoned after well.... the incident. 

So yeah holy SHIT that’s the view from my new kitchen???? Honestly the pictures don’t do the view justice, the rocky mountains in the background look a lot bigger in person and it’s so fucking breathtaking. We (aka me and my parents) moved in on Thursday and I saw the house for the first time. While I was walking the property line I just burst into tears because I was so full of love and happiness and hope for the future.

Anyway, before we get into that:

Things have been really fucking good. Amazingly good. It’s been exactly a month since I left my ex. The first two weeks were some of the two of the hardest weeks I’ve ever experienced. After 7 years of conditioning to put his needs and feelings before my own, I spent the majority of those two weeks having to force myself not to think about him. It was hard, considering he was calling my work and constantly emailing me to tell me how selfish and heartless I was for leaving him. I got a new phone number after he left 17 voicemails and over 20 texts one night (none of which I listened to or read). Because of the calls to my work, I unfortunately had to tell my coworkers a bit about what was going on so that they could say I wasn’t in when he called. It’s something I didn’t want do because I had been using my work as a safe haven where everything was supposed to be normal, but thankfully all of my coworkers were super supportive and kind. 

Last week I was at the doctors again so he could assess how the medication he gave me has been working and, no shock to me, it’s been doing amazing things! Not only am I having a much easier time focusing, but it’s improving my mood so much and alleviating a lot of my anxiety and depression. 

My mom has been my fucking rock. She continues to be such an amazing woman who supports me and checks in with me every single day to make sure I’m alright. Last week I had a bit of a two steps back sort of day where I was just... really down (which I know is natural, so I didn’t beat myself up over it) and she stayed home from work just to be with me so I didn’t have to be alone. I love her so much and every single day I’m so thankful to have her (and my step dad) by my side.

It feels amazing to be living somewhere where he doesn’t know where I am. I feel safe and free and home. We’re in the middle of nowhere with the woods to our back and the mountains to our front. Every night I fall asleep to the sound of frogs in the pond next to us, and every morning I hear the cows across the valley. It’s breath taking. That’s quite literally the only word I can use to describe it. 

I haven’t felt the “wave of relief” that I keep talking about, and honestly I don’t know that for me it will be a wave. I get little bits of relief with every day that passes, every box I unpack, every time I look in the mirror and I feel a real and legitimate love for myself that I haven’t felt in.... honestly I don’t think I’ve ever felt it. 

The night I left, my ex told me that I wasn’t being myself. He told me I wasn’t brave and that I was just pretending to be brave to prove some weird point. I think that’s the thing that sticks out most to me about the night I left. Not the way he grabbed me, not the way he threatened me, not the way he yelled; it was that line about me being “fake”. 

Because the thing is: I wasn’t.

I am brave. I am strong. I am worth every ounce of love that is given to me and I give in return. I am happy. I am hopeful. I am recovering. 

I know I’m not out of the woods yet. I have a lot of unhealthy mindsets and tendencies to unlearn, I have a lot of self love to still find, I have a lot of relationships to mend, friends to drop, and recovery to do. I still think about him and my heart breaks all over again. I loved him for 7 years, that feeling doesn’t go away in a month. 

But... in 6 months? In a year? In 5 years? 

I used to be the type to plan my future down to the last insignificant detail, and if it wasn’t perfectly planned I was beyond stressed. Right now, I have no idea what the future holds and oddly enough, that doesn’t stress me out. It’s actually sort of... exciting. Like every time I run errands, or go to work, or take a walk around our property line something could happen that sets me on a new and exciting path that I didn’t see before. I’m not going to waste my time stressing anymore.

And that thought brings me another tiny spark of relief. 

[snxwboarder]

//Hey friends. I’m back.

I’ve got an update on the situation I talked about a few days ago. Honestly writing the post I wrote last time really helped me, so I want to do it again. Just to put my thoughts down and allow myself to process.

If you’re going to read (which you’re welcome to!) please make sure you’ve read the trigger warnings in the tags.

But, just a tldr for anyone possibly concerned about my safety: I’m at my parents place now with all 5 of my ferrets and most of my stuff. I feel safe and loved and free. Still scared. Still sad. Still hurt. But very hopeful of the future.

Here I go

Like I said in my last post, I didn’t think I was in an abusive relationship. I was struggling to see it. Even when my friends pointed out the gaslighting and the manipulation, I always had a reason for why he acted the way he did. An explanation for his actions forever engraved into my system because I have always been the one to be there to save him. To excuse him. To forgive him.

It changed last night.

Abusive relationship.

Not something I thought I was in.

Until, for the first time since my dad pushed me out of the room so he could hit my mom when I was 11 years old, my partner became physical.

My boyfriend, of 7 years, who I reassured my friends, not even half an hour earlier, would never lay a hand on me.

Got physical.

I worked a full day yesterday, left the house before he got up. I fed the ferrets before I left, giving my senior ferret her twice daily lifetime medication 2 hours earlier than I normally do because I worked the morning shift - and I knew he wouldn’t wake up to do it.

We still hadn’t talked. Not much. How many days does that make it that he hasn’t spoken to me... 5? I lost count.

Our conversations consisted of me saying “have a good day at work” and his grunt in reply. A short “I’m going to my grandma’s house” because I needed to get out. 

It wasn’t talking. Not really.

There was a time I think he wanted to talk. He came into the bedroom on the 4th night of us sleeping apart. He sat down, didn’t say much. I know he was trying to get me to ask what was wrong, if he was okay, what I could to do help him. But I didn’t say anything.

Which was.... hard.

Really hard.

I’ve spent 7 years being trained, like a collared bitch that comes to it’s masters call that when he’s upset, I find the solution. When we fight, I ask for forgiveness. When we can’t decide, I compromise. 

7 years of training. 

This time I didn’t do it though. No matter how tight he pulled the collar around my neck, the mumbled phrases he said to lure me in:

“I’m so tired...”

That’s what he said. He’s tired. 

Him.

He didn’t ask how I was, he didn’t ask what I was thinking. He just sat there. Staring down into his lap. Breathing. Waiting for me to beg for forgiveness for a fight he started, for words he said, for a relationship he molded. 

“What’s wrong with you?”

That’s the last real thing he had said to me and it still rings back and forth in my head. 

4 days he left me with that.

20 minutes, give or take, that’s how long he sat there waiting. But I didn’t say anything. If he wanted to talk about the fight, I was ready to talk, but I knew it would end in a breakup right there and then at 1am. Not the ideal time. But... ideal times don’t really exist.

He left though. Wordlessly. Closing the door behind him just like the walls he always put up so that I could work to tear them down and make it right. 

The next morning I went to work.

And while I stared into our empty store, my new coworkers that I’ve only known for 2 days standing around me. I made the choice that it was over. I was done sitting here with an infected bandage waiting for it to heal itself. I wanted to rip it off. Let the air sting against the cut he had caused so it could finally get a chance to breathe. To heal.

We were done.

I came home from work with determination in my steps and the most stomach turning anxiety in my gut. 

We were done.

I entered the house. Silence. I go to his office. He’s playing fortnite. 

He doesn’t notice me at first because he’s talking to his friends. His mood is different. He’s happy, I know it. I move towards him and he recognizes that I’m there. 

“How was work?”

It was like nothing was wrong. 

I’m still confused about that part but I didn’t focus on it for too long. “Can we talk when you’re done your game?” I said. 

He agreed. I left the room to go downstairs.

I didn’t take my work uniform off thank god I didn’t take my work uniform off. My car keys were in my pocket because I didn’t stop to put them down. The ferret travel cage was in the car, not because I had it there as a “just in case” but simply because, like the keys, I had forgotten to put it away when I brought them inside after a vet appointment last week. 

I text my friends to let them know that it’s happening. I had talked to my mom on the phone on the drive home from work to give her a heads up that tomorrow they’ll probably need to get me. 

Tomorrow. I can’t believe I thought he’d let me stay the night.

He called my name when he was done the game. We never use each other’s names. Always pet names when we’re alone. So it was odd.

I went upstairs to his office and stood in the doorway.

He asked if I wanted to take a seat.

I said I did not.

The conversation that follows is not something I’m ready to fully bring myself back to, not yet, maybe not ever. I was clear in my intentions, firm with when I was leaving, and as factual as I could be. I explained what I felt he deserved to know, and allowed him to take the silences he needed to take.

A broken man sobbed in front of me, begging me to stay. Saying, for the millionth time, that he could change if I needed him to despite how I’d never seen the evidence of it. Said we could stop having sex for good. Said I was all that he had and without me he was completely alone. Said I couldn’t leave because if I did he would be by himself in a house with no one.

And then he remembered the ferrets.

“Are you taking the girls?” He asked me, breaking again in front of me.

I gave him a very clear, very hard “yes.” 

Because I was.

I was leaving him and I was taking my ferrets with me.

More so than the conversation we just had, the following 30 minutes of my life are the worst 30 minutes I’ve ever experienced. I highly doubt I’ll ever be able to remember those 30 minutes and feel at peace.

It was when the abuse turned from emotional to physical. As he fought me for my ferrets. My girls. 

My hands still hurt from where I grabbed their cage and my voice is still sore from yelling that he needed to let go.

I had my car keys in my pocket because of luck.

I had the kennel in my car because of forgetfulness. 

I grabbed all 5 of them in my arms and I ran.

I ran.

I’ve never moved so quickly with my heartbeat hammering in my ears and my chest so tight with fear and anxiety, moving completely on gut instinct above literally anything else. 

I got them into the kennel and I locked the car.

He could have the house. He could have the furniture. He could have the damage deposit and the subscriptions and the money that he owes me and my virginity that he stole and my broken beating fucking heart I don’t give a fucking shit about any of that useless garbage but he is not taking my girls. I brought them into this house because I wanted one fucking thing to keep me sane and moving and loved and I wasn’t leaving unless they were in the back of my car.

He lost his chance to say goodbye when he grabbed me.

He lost his chance to hold them one more time when he threatened to leave with them.

He lost his chance to a normal breakup when he stood by the door with rage in his eyes telling me that even though my parents were on their way to save me from the hell he trapped me in, he would not let them into his home to free me from the hold that he had so easily trapped me in.

But I stayed firm.

The keys were in my pocket.

I had my girls. 

He moved towards me and I was scared but he grabbed his car keys and his wallet and stormed out of the house.

“You’re a selfish bitch. Fuck you.”

That’s the last thing he said.

And I sobbed in the doorway of my front door until my throat was raw and I couldn’t breathe. I sobbed because of how long I had been trapped. Because of the lies he told me. Because of how many times he said he’d change and never did. Because of all of the signs I missed. Because of all of the excuses I gave. Because of all the fighting and the compromising and the unhappiness. I sobbed because I was so relieved but so fucking terrified about everything that this changes and everything that this puts to an end. I just sobbed.

I don’t know when my step dad showed up but I assume he found me in the doorway shaking with my knees to my chest and my heart broken on the floor.

He held me for longer than he ever has. I don’t know what I said to him. I think I told him about the ferrets but I probably just kept mumbling “they’re in the car they’re in the car the girls are in the car” hoping he’d understand. I think he did. I don’t know.

My mom and brother were there in her van moments later and we packed.

Everything we could fit between 3 cars we packed. We started with the important stuff: my computer, the ferret cage, my sewing machine. We sacrificed the stuff that I didn’t have room for: my cosplay gear, half of my clothes, my fish tank (which breaks my fucking heart all over again please just take care of my fish I told them I was so sorry when we left but I just couldn’t take them). 

It’s hard.

To watch the home you had just finished setting up be torn apart so quickly because you aren’t sure when he’s coming back to demand that you stay.

It’s hard.

But we did it.

My mom, my brother, my step dad, and me. We tore the home apart and I got my stuff. 

I sobbed the whole drive away from that house. My brother drove with me, which I will never stop being thankful for. I sobbed because I was scared, still am, that my ex was going to kill himself. I was worried that that’s why he left. My eyes were on the highway and my heart was being left in broken pieces along the side of the road with each kilometre we drove. 

And then I stopped crying.

About half of the way to my parent’s house.

Just.... stopped crying.

My brother and I talked about anime, one of our shared interests. He just finished watching SK8 with his wife and we were talking about our favourite parts, agreeing that Langa was best boy, making jokes about the silly bits and discussing our favourite scenes. Just talked with my brother about anime.

So I’m here now. In almost the same position I was in when I made a post like this last week, rethinking all of the reasons I had to leave. I’m at the kitchen table. I have a cup of tea that’s 3/4 full and completely cold because this post distracted me. I’ve been crying. A lot. My eyes are constantly puffy and red.

But about 30 minutes ago I went to walmart. 

Stupid thing to give you hope, I suppose, a trip to walmart. I needed to get a sheet for my new bed though and I didn’t want to put it off. 

A solo trip to walmart.

The same walmart that, exactly 1 week ago almost on the hour, I had been in with my ex (”ex” still feels odd to say). We had stopped by to get groceries after a couples counselling session. He was in a bad mood. We argued. In the car I apologized and he did not. 1 week ago I hadn’t realized everything wrong with us. 1 week ago I cried by the george t-shirts because he left me there in a rage after I said we needed to cross the store to get duct tape. 1 week ago I went to the mcdonalds in that walmart to get us burgers and the boy at the till was cute. 1 week ago I slipped into a 15 second daydream where I was with someone I found attractive. 1 week ago I felt guilty for the thought. 1 week ago I was just as brave as I was yesterday, but I didn’t know it yet.

I’m with my mom. I’m with my step dad. I’m with my ferrets.

I’m safe. I’m home. 

When I sat at the red light on the way home from walmart, I felt the relief my mom had told me about 5 days ago. Not the wave that she described, nothing that “washed over me” like she had told me it did when she left my dad; but just a spark. A tiny little glimmer of “this is what’s right”, “this is what’s good”, “this is what’s better”. 

My throat is still sore. My hands are still numb. And my heart still aches. But those pains go away eventually.

He goes away eventually.

[snxwboarder]

//hey guys... sorry I kinda poofed.

the tl;dr situation is: I’m going through a big irl change right now so I just don’t have the emotional energy for tumblr. I’m active in this 18+ SK8 rp hub on discord, so if you want to contact/rp with me feel free to DM me and I can invite you. Or if you want to just talk on discord, that’s fine too. RP has honestly been helping me through this a lot, just as a break from everything and a way to slip into a positive head space. Idk if that’s necessarily a healthy long term solution, but it’s helping me in the short term. And that’s all I really need.

I’m not sure if I’m going to come back to this blog, and if i do it won’t be for a while until things settle down.

I’ll sorta explain the situation for anyone curious under the cut, it’s going to be very long because I need a space for my thoughts so I can process. I want to post it because that makes it feel real and permanent and valid. Which is what I desperately need right now.

It starts out extremely negative, but I promise I am okay. I’ll be okay. I’m safe and I have people to come get me in a moment’s notice at any time, if I need it. The post ends happy.

check tags for trigger warnings please!!

My long term partner and I are... well I’m breaking up with him. I’m pretty sure. I’m working on wrapping my head around it, which you’ll see is a lot to wrap my head around.

Please keep in mind: I don’t think my partner is a bad person. I really don’t. I think we aren’t meant to be together and when two people who aren’t meant to be together try to force it, bad things happen.

This breakup has been a long time coming and looking back there are lots of red flags that I’ve ignored over the years, we’ve been together 7 years which means I’ve been with him since I was 18 and that’s.... that’s a lot.. he’s the first person I’ve been in a long term, serious, relationship with so I’ve made a lot of mistakes, we both have.

To start this off, it’s important to understand that I’m a textbook people pleaser: I bend over backwards to please others, I change who I am to fit their needs, I let anyone unload emotional baggage onto me without any regard for how it effects me, I see the best in anyone even if it isn’t there, I make excuses to rationalize why people have wronged me so they can get away with it time and time again. Personally, I don’t see all of this as a bad things, there’s nothing wrong with forgiving others and seeing the best in them - it’s when people take advantage (whether consciously or subconsciously) of how I am that it becomes a problem.

Now, my partner. He’s an adult man with a lot of his own major trauma and baggage. He had a very awful incident happen to him as a child, which I think started his snowball. All of his past relationships have been with women who were toxic and either physically or emotionally (and honestly I think sexually) abusive towards him. He’s never had a “heathy” relationship, is what I’m getting at.

And then I walk in.

Someone who chameleons my personality, without realizing it, so that I can please anyone and everyone around me regardless of the toll it takes on me. So I did that. I became the perfect girlfriend that he needed me to be. The partner who was always happy to take up his interests, and go where he wanted, and be what he wanted. I was there for him to unload his baggage and be his (never physical, I promise) punching bag. Whether he did it consciously or subconsciously, he set up boundaries and guidelines for how I needed to act, and I obeyed.

But with him... it really went one way.

When he told me “hey you using this particular word reminds me of my ex girlfriend and I feel uncomfortable” I changed my vocabulary and never used that word, even though I didn’t fully understand why.

But when I said “hey, if you raise your voice around me, even if it’s at a video game or some furniture you’re trying to put together, it reminds me of my childhood trauma and it makes me extremely uncomfortable” the reply wasn’t one of acceptance, it was “well my dad yelled when I was a kid too and I’m fine, so clearly that means you’re blowing things out of proportion”. Ironic, because I don’t think he’s fine. Not at all.

And then there’s sex.

I’m not sure what my sexuality is. I know I’m bi/pan romantic and gender plays no role, but when it comes to sex I’m so unsure. I suspect I’m on the ace spectrum, maybe leaning toward demisexual, but I’ve never put too much of a label on it besides “asexual”, and even that was only a revelation of the last year.

My partner is not this way. He expresses love (or what he thinks of as love) though sex and when sex is taken out of the equation he becomes frustrated.

Frustration means lashing out, which means a fight.

I’ve spent the last 5 years forcing myself to have sex with a man who guilt tripped me into doing it. He never said the “if you love me, you’ll have sex with me” line, but it was highly implied. And for 5 years, I was happy to do it, because from my understanding sex is his love language and I wanted to show him that I did love him. Of course I loved him. Like he said time and time again, “you’re perfect for me”.

Again, ironic, because when it comes to my love languages (acts of service and words of affirmation) those were often swept under the rug. I would have to ask “hey do you think I’m doing a good job at ___” in order to be told so, I would have to say “I’d really appreciate if you cleaned this kitchen tonight” for it to ever get done. I understand that I should never expect these things from him, he’s not a mind reader (no one is); but I have told him again and again over the course of our 7 year relationship that that’s how to tell me he loves me. I was expected to put out without complaint or being asked to, I feel like he should be willing to understand that to me, when he cooks me dinner it’s the same thing. I know how to say “I love you” to him, but it doesn’t seem like he ever says it back.

I feel disgusting having sex. Like I’m drowning in swamp water, and right when I get a second to breathe I get pushed down again.

The first time we had sex I cried.

I thought that was normal.

It wasn’t, I guess.

But I was 19 and I’d never been with anyone so I didn’t know any better.

About 2 months ago we got into a pretty awful fight (not uncommon for us). I honestly can’t remember what started it, probably something pointless, but it ended with him saying “I love you and I’d do anything to prove that”. I’ve been trying to get us to see a therapist for a while, almost 4 years at this point, but he’s always refused. Almost every fight ends with me suggesting it, and him telling me that therapy doesn’t work for him. But, I used the line he gave me to my advantage (which I’ll admit might have been manipulative). I told him if that it true that he’d do anything to prove he loved me, he’d see a counselor with me. So, trapping him with the line, we started seeing a counselor.

We’ve been to 3 sessions, and each time I find what the counselor has to say really useful. And I think my partner finds it useful to. But it seems like after every session, he’s in a bad mood for a few hours. I don’t know why because I don’t want to push it. While we’re in the session he’s attentive, answering the therapists questions in really honest and helpful ways, and taking the advice he gives. But we get home and it’s like none of it even happened. 

I know therapy takes time, which is why I’ve been trying to convince myself but...

That brings us to about 42 hours ago.

I think I have ADHD. Lots of you know this. I’ve felt this way for years now but I’ve been scared to do anything about it until I met friends who encouraged me to get tested. So I did. Unsurprisingly, the doctor agreed that I probably have it.

Because I’ve spent so long suspecting I had it, I’ve implemented a lot of coping strategies that I’ve found online or through friends with ADHD. It helps, for sure, and I do see improvements when I use them, but I’m not fully there. I still have meltdowns at least every 3-4 days over “I can’t find my wallet” or “I’m not going to meet this deadline” or “I have to start this project but I don’t know how to”. It makes me hate myself. “You’re a useless sack of shit who can’t even do this.” It’s a daily thought, and it has been for a while.

So medicine. 

After expressing those concerns to my doctor, he said we should give it a try. Just for a month to see if it helps me keep my focus, improve my mood, or not feel in a constant state of panic. He gave me a prescription and I was happy because I agreed that it’s probably what I need for that last boost to get me on the road to recovery.

I came home from my appointment feeling hopeful. Maybe I finally found something that would work. Maybe I could love myself again. Maybe things were going to be okay. 

I expressed this to my partner.

He disagreed.

Strongly.

Because of the trauma he went through as a kid, he was diagnosed with depression at a extremely young age and put on antidepressants. They didn’t work for him, in fact they did a lot more harm than good, and because of that he has an extremely negative association with medication to treat mental health. Even when I initially told him I had made an appointment to see a specialist (information I withheld until a week before seeing the doctor because I was scared of his reaction) he told me “please don’t go on medication”. Tried to make me promise not to, in fact. 

He told me that medication would make me depressed because it messes with the chemicals in your brain and makes you dependent on it.

I’m not a doctor, but I’m pretty sure that changing the chemicals in your brain is the point. But anyway...

I told him I just wanted to try it. I have a 28 day trial and then I see the doctor again and we talk about how it went, if there should be changes, if it worked, if it didn’t work. It’s just 28 days and if the meds made me feel awful (which I doubted they would) I would stop them and talk to the doctor again. In my mind, I’m at rock bottom, and when you’re at rock bottom you try anything to stand up again.

To him, this isn’t acceptable.

Verbatim lines from our argument that I wrote down after so I wouldn’t forget:

1. “I don’t want to have to take care of you [when the pills don’t work].”

and

2. “What’s wrong with you?”

It’s important to note, the last one was said before he left the room, closed the door, and locked himself into the office.

It’s also important to note that it’s the last thing he’s said to me since then. Now 43 hours ago.

He slept on the couch that night, and last night - not because I kicked him out of the bedroom but because he chose to sleep there. When we’re home together (which is only about half of the day because we have opposite schedules), he stays in his office and only leaves to get food or go to the bathroom when he knows I’m in the bedroom. Our front door has a broken lock and has to be opened from the inside, so when I got home from work late last night he needed to let me in. I rang the doorbell to indicate that I was home and he unlocked the door just a crack so that he could quickly go back upstairs without even looking at me. 

“What’s wrong with you?”

That’s it. That’s what he left me with. 2 days.

“What’s wrong with you?”

Well a lot... thanks for pointing that out.

I feel like I’m a waste of space, for one thing. Like the oxygen I breathe is better used in someone else’s lungs. The food I eat is better in someone else’s stomach. And the space I take up is better used in another way. 

I can’t do normal things that everyday people should be able to do. I lose stuff constantly. I can’t keep a schedule unless I wrote it down. I can’t stay on task or remember what I was supposed to do for the day. I can’t walk into office buildings because they scare me. I can’t answer emails without reading them 54 times to make sure they’re perfect and even then I go into my ‘sent’ emails and reread them another 10 times even though I’m past the point of being able to change anything.

I want to die. Not enough to kill myself, but enough that if I got into a car accident or the earth swallowed me whole well... I wouldn’t complain. Maybe if I die I’d be born again as someone else. I could restart everything as a completely new person with a brain that works and hands that aren’t scared and hair that isn’t destroyed by bleach. It would be nice to start over. A factory reset on a phone with a cracked screen. Probably wouldn’t do much but it’s worth a shot.

I think it’s really ironic. He doesn’t want me on medication because he thinks it will cause me to become depressed (and kill myself, I assume where his thoughts lead to) so to prove that point he is ignoring me, someone he has vowed that he loves and would do anything for. It’s not the pills. The pills aren’t going to go kill me. Being a stranger in my own home.. that might.

I said at the beginning of this post that this was positive, and it is. I promise. So here we go:

I’m one of the few lucky people in situations like this. I have so much to be thankful for and so much that I wish I could share with the thousands of people who don’t have it. I have an amazing support system. Friends who get up early to check in on me, family who is ready to support me financially, and a job that is happy to accommodate what I’m going though. 

I’m not here for a “woe is me” post where I cry and vent about what I’m going through (my friends say it’s emotional abuse but...I’m struggling with that term still and I probably will for a while. It’s become my norm. Though I guess that’s abuse for you...).

I’m here because I just... want to talk it out. Type it out. See my thoughts as words so I can wrap my head around the fact that pretty soon I think the person I’ve built my adult life with, changed who I am for, and sacrificed so much to be with... is probably going to be gone. 

I have an out. My mom says that at any time, night or day, any day she and my step dad will drive here, grab all of my stuff, and take me anywhere I need to go. She’s offered me a room in the house she just bought, stressing how I’m welcome to stay permanently or just until I can get back on my feet. “Don’t worry about the physical stuff,” she told me this morning on the phone while I poured my heart out to her and told her about the fights and the pills and the silent treatment and the years of doubt “Just focus on if you’re happy, if you want to work through it, and if you want to be there.”

For 7 years it’s been the little things, the “physical things” as she called it, keeping me here. The “oh we just signed a new lease” “I need him to help me pay for the ferrets” “we just got a new bed” “It’s just so convenient” “he says he loves me” “he says he’ll change” “hey says I’m perfect for him”.

My parents went through a really messy divorce when I was a kid. My dad was both physically and emotionally abusive to her and me for a long time. They split up when I was 12 and I haven’t seen or talked to my dad in just as long. She told me that the day she finally decided to pack up her stuff and leave him with no job, 3 kids, living on the other side of the world from her family - she felt relief wash over her, despite the uncertainty and the fear and all of the reasons to stay. She was relieved. 

It’s been so long since I’ve felt relieved about anything.

Not the new house, not the promises, not the counselling, not the stack of dirty dishes being cleaned because I had the energy to clean them.

That stuff just makes me numb.

But... the last two days, while I’ve been ignored in my own home and treated like a burden, I slip into daydreams where I’m sitting on my mom’s couch watching a movie with her. My stuff is there. My ferrets are there. My bed is just around the corner, but hey if I fall asleep on the couch it’s fine too. Because it’s my couch and my tv and my home and my mom. And while I think about that just... everything’s okay. 

I’m relieved.

So I don’t know if I’m leaving. I suspect I am. It makes sense for me to leave. My partner and I have to talk again, of course, because I’m not the type of person to pack up my stuff and leave without a word. I can’t. I’m not that brave. Not yet anyway.

But maybe in a month, I’ll be in that daydream world. Maybe I’ll feel the relief that my mom was talking about - but in person this time. For real this time. Even now, while I’m sitting at my kitchen table with a bottle of my new pills, tears rolling down my face for the 6th time since I woke up 5 hours ago; the idea of not being here anymore washes over me like a wave and I feel... hopeful. 

Everything will be fine. One day. It might suck for a bit first, it might suck a lot at first; but I’m a really great person. I have my flaws and my shortcomings, but even despite those I’m awesome. I’m brave (ish), I’m funny, I have nice boobs and an ass that won’t quit, I’m self motivated, I’m creative, I’m impulsive but not always in a bad way, despite everything I have the ability to love, to forgive, and to move forward. I am an amazing person. I am not a waste of space. I’m a not a useless sack of shit. I’m just me.. no matter how confusing “just me” is.

I’m not the mold that I’ve spent the past 7 years being forced into, and I’m so ecstatic to see who I become without it.

Without him.

[snxwboarder]

praeteritus-memories​:

“Langa, you can’t drink salt water just because it’s free.” There’s salt in the name, Langa! “I will buy you a water if you need it that badly.”

   “I didn’t want water, I want food. Joe won’t feed me for free.” Another sip. “I have to save my money.” Sip sip. He’s literally going to die please stop him.

[joethehimbo]

   “I am your girl’s favorite CHEF and SKATER, I don’t                      feel bad if they end up falling for me.” 

                                       RULES || KOJIRO NANJO || INQUIRE 

[praeteritus-memories]

“I leave for one minute and Langa is already drinking salt water…” 

[snxwboarder]

   Sip sip. “It was free.” Gotta save that money for dates with Reki. Wait no not dates. Like... hanging out and uhhh no homo?

[snxwboarder]

   “I was just... asking a question..” And now he’s sipping on ocean water and Miya will no longer speak to him. Sips water. Youth really is fleeting. Sips water again. Honestly makes you think...

[snxwboarder]

praeteritus-memories​:

“I should just challenge you to a beef right now for saying this crap.” This is too much, Langa! He’s only thirteen and it’s too much for this world!

   Langa shrugged. “That’s fine. Speaking of beef... are tacos also sandwiches?”

[snxwboarder]

a-musing-mixologist​:

     “For the price of one regular entrée, I will give you one regular entrée.”  Being an amazingly awesome and toned skater doesn’t pay the bills.  “Or you could always walk down to the beach and get a cup of free ocean soup.”  Please don’t do that.

    “Hmm..” Joe was giving him two very compelling options. On one hand, pay for his food. On the other hand, ocean soup is free and he could use the money he would spend on that entrée to take Reki on a date- er... hang out, at A&W. Choices choices.... “Alright.” 

   He’s walking towards the ocean now.

[snxwboarder]

praeteritus-memories​:

“What the heck, man!? No way is cereal a soup, that’s just way too cursed!” Langa was never this smart, who in the world does Miya need to scratch at for putting these cursed thoughts in Langa’s head? 

   “And I guess... ketchup is salty pudding.” Oh yes. Langa was messing with him. Revenge for teasing Reki.

[snxwboarder]

a-musing-mixologist​:

 “It’s got water, salt, vegetables, and meat in it.  Therefore, soup.”  Somehow, this was less stressful to think about than hot dogs being sandwiches.

   “Huh....” He had a point, a good point. Langa’s stomach growled.

[snxwboarder]

praeteritus-memories​:

It’s too bad his parents wouldn’t let him utter curse words because this existential crisis makes him want to say one so bad. “Dude, I’m not supposed to feel this weird about the world already.”

   Langa ignored what Miya had said. “By that logic... cereal is also soup.” Was he just messing with Miya at this point? It was hard to tell.

[snxwboarder]

praeteritus-memories​:

“Hmph…I guess? It just doesn’t sound right. By that, just call a milkshake an unhealthy smoothie then.”

   “Hmm...” Now Miya did have a point with that one. “Then... a calzone is just a savory pie?”

[snxwboarder]

a-musing-mixologist​:

   “That makes two of us.”

            “I’ve got no problem with hot dogs, and I’ve put away my fair share of ‘em.  But being forced to classify them as sandwiches feels wrong on every level.”

     “But if we’re being all technical then that also means you can technically classify the ocean as soup.”  Does this bother him?  Yes.  Does it bother him enough to not sometimes state it to Kaoru?  No.

   Joe looked very distraught over this which is something Langa took a quick mental note of. Whether he’d use this information for good or evil was going to depend on Joe.

   The ocean... is soup?? "I’m not following that one.” Langa’s two braincells don’t follow.

[snxwboarder]

make    yourself        &        your    muse(s)        !

okay this is high key the cutest thing ever????? I loved every second of this and LOOK AT HOW CUTE WE ARE HELLO????

tagged by: @praeteritus-memories

tagging: @chatmiya , @matador-of-love (because I want to see you with Adam too, Lu), @skxteboarder , @a-musing-mixologist , idk anyone else online rn???

[snxwboarder]

praeteritus-memories​:

“Don’t you put a lot of things in a sandwich? It’s just a hot dog, no way is it a sandwich.”

   “I don’t think the amount of things you put onto it dictates if it’s a sandwich or not..” By that logic, grilled cheese isn’t a sandwich. C’mon Miya use your big boy brain here.