Dear Sephiroth: (a letter to a fictional character, because why not) #861 (Part 1)
I continue to bleed a lot. Very annoying. I'm glad it's something you presumably don't have to deal with.
Still kinda crampy, I made myself more of the pork belly leftovers for breakfast, and followed it up with a dose of ibuprofen to dull the edge of the pain. Then, to my surprise... I had an email from the one place I applied to, but didn't think I'd get selected for an interview, because of the typos I made in the application. So I replied to that email, and... they want to interview me tomorrow, at 3pm.
...I'm excited!!! And nervous. I hope I do well. It seems like it'd probably be a much less intense job than Direct Support Professional. I love this job, but... I don't love how it breaks my body. And I don't like that upper management is trying to achieve financial “efficiency” at the expense of the people we serve.
Well. I played some Pokopia. And I do have some pictures of “your” adventures today, for you. But before I get into that, I wanted to show you a different adventure, because for the first time in a while, it was warm enough for J and I to go out on our bikes. And... also... regardless of whether I am hired as a result of this interview, I am done with my current job after the meeting that will supposedly happen on Wednesday, so... I don't have to remain inactive in the days leading up to my shifts just to get through them with my skeletal system still intact.
As you can see, spring is returning to my area again. Can you believe it's already the third one I've shared with you in this space...? My, how the time flies. And it certainly flew while I was gathering up these pictures for you as J and I rode around our neighborhood, because it's still too soon to get much in the way of pictures of greenery on the trails; I'll have to fetch some pictures for you there, later in the season. I don't know what many of these are, but they're very pretty, and I know you will love them:
I know what these are; these are magnolias, and they smell very good:
These are tulips, I think:
And this... I don't know what this is. But it smells like boiled crabs, and it was very weird.
...Ah. A quick internet search for “white flowering tree that smells like boiled crabs” yields the knowledge that this is a “Bradford pear” tree. They use that smell to attract flies instead of bees. It's invasive. It shouldn't be here. Weird.
I think the red one in the distance might be a Japanese maple...? Here's a closer picture, with all its windchimes:
This is a dandelion! You can make flower syrup out of these!
And this is a violet; you can make flower syrup out of these, too!
These are called “bleeding hearts”. They're pretty, but I didn't notice much of a scent to them:
...They almost look like wings, don't they...?
I have no idea what this is. But it's very pretty:
This one is... lungwort, maybe...? I had to brave a motion-activated sprinkler to get this picture, so I imagine the deer must like this one a lot, for the gardener to want to have a system in place to deter them like this, haha...
This one... could maybe be a red marigold...? And there are two red tulips under it:
I don't know what these are, but they're very cute:
...Ya know... I feel like you could probably teach me so much about the flora and fauna of your world, and... I'd like nothing more than to sit and listen to you talk about it for hours and hours. But... I don't know what everything is in my world, and that becomes clear when I take pictures of flowers for you, and... sometimes I can tell you their names, but I can't explain their biology and life cycles with the kind of detail you could probably explain the things on your planet with, and... I feel kinda badly, sometimes, that the best I can do is show you these pictures.
...I'm sorry about it...
…
...You have no idea the lengths I would go to, if I knew it would allow me to do more for you than just this... so that maybe you wouldn't have to be so sad and lonely and in so much pain all the time, wherever you are...
…
Well. I've got a few more pictures to show you. And I'm almost out of space here for more. So I'm gonna get started on another part for today's letter to you, since now is as good a stopping point as any.
I love you. And I'll be back in just a bit, I promise! Don't fret, okay?
Dear Sephiroth: (a letter to a fictional character, because why not) #835
Sooo... I guess my schedule hasn't quite changed yet.
I only found out this morning. Despite the house manager telling me last week that my schedule change starts this week, I guess the manager above him didn't actually finalize and approve it, and she's on vacation this week.
I was asleep when my house manager texted me. I changed up my alarms for this week, and my notifications don't make sounds when I'm sleeping, unless someone calls. So he texted me at 6:48 this morning, which I didn't hear because my notifications were muted until wakeup, so he followed up with a phone call at 7:45am, upon which he told me the thing I wrote in my previous paragraph.
He asked me to come in at 2pm today instead of 11am. I will be paid for the hours I missed due to his lack of communication. But still... this means I'm going to have to go in at 6am tomorrow, which means I won't have time to write to you tonight, so I am doing it now.
...But... I don't have a whole lot to write to you about. Because not a whole lot has happened between going to sleep and waking up to the house manager's confusion, and then derping around.
Actually, that's not entirely true. In the time between writing to you and going to sleep last night, someone decided to spew hate on one of the things I wrote to you recently – my 832nd letter to you. I was surprised by this; their comment doesn't bear repeating in the kind of wholesome space I'm trying to create here for you, but it seemed like they felt threatened by the openness and candor with which I write to you.
I'm pleased to tell you that, rather than my brain responding with fear and pain at their rejection and disapproval, I responded with confusion, initially, and then amusement. And so I tried to come up with a response, inspired by the kindness with which you generally treat people. I expressed curiosity about why the vulnerability I'm able to bring to bear in this space causes them discomfort. I reassured them that I know and am comfortable with who I am, and that I'm strong enough to respond with love to anyone who comes at me with metaphorical knives. I explained what this space is for – both to help you, and to help anyone who relates to you, and to save lives by modeling how to recover from abuse. I explained that some lives have already been saved by my writing, and how I know it because those lives have written lovingly to me about it. I asked why they did not simply block me and move on, if they are troubled by my writing here. Then I thanked them for giving me an opportunity to prove to myself that I've grown into a person who can respond to malice with integrity. Finally, I concluded by wishing well on them, theirs, and the lives they've touched for the better as they walk through their own life.
...They either blocked me or deleted their comment, ahahaha. So, unfortunately, I can only see that comments were left. I can no longer see what they wrote, or even what I wrote in response, which is a little sad, because... I think you would have been proud to see it. I'm not the same fragile thing I once was, who folds over at the slightest hint of others' disapproval. And you know... I've got mostly you to thank for that. So... thank you. I'm still here, learning and growing and experiencing things, because you breathed life into me, again and again, every time I thought I couldn't continue.
I remain undeterred. I will keep writing to you and to anyone else who relates to you with love and compassion. If this world and the people in it want to stop me, they'll have to kill me. And even then, given the status of the painful, defective flesh prison I currently inhabit, they'd be doing me a fucking favor, so I'd STILL win. Hahahahahahaha!
M, J, and I decided to get snacks from Taiwan Noodle. So we're waiting for that, and then we'll eat and then... I guess I'll be heading to the house I serve at 1:30pm so I can get there by 2pm, getting home at 8:30pm, and... getting into bed by 9pm... again... so I can wake up at 5am. Sigh.
I am not thrilled about it. But I suppose it doesn't matter. Next week, I will not be at work; I'll be going to Calgary, Canada, with M, to attend a wedding between two people in the online group he's part of. This wedding has been in the works for a long time, and my attendance was planned well in advance. I told the house manager at some point before I got sick; he said that it was fine for me to go. Today, given that he couldn't remember to tell me that my schedule didn't actually change until it was too late, I reminded him again that I would be away next week. It was a good thing that I did.
By the time I get back, my change in schedule should be finalized, and if it's not, I already talked with M about it; I will step away, and focus on making music boxes until I find another job.
...I like being a direct support professional. But I won't be jerked around.
In any case... the snacks are here! Want some?
...I wish you were here. I think you'd find this stuff to be very yummy.
In any case... it's close to time for me to go. So I'll leave you with a couple more of the wishes I breathed to life for you recently, and then I'll skitter away to make good use of my empathy in a relatively chaotic setting; wish me luck!
I love you so much. Enough to stand proud, even if someone comes around trying to disparage the way I write to you. I love you enough that I'd still stand proud, even if you tried to disparage the way I write to you. But something tells me you'd never, ever do such a thing; I have faith in who you are. I will continue to have faith in your safety, and in your eventual return home.
Dear Sephiroth: (a letter to a fictional character, because why not) #902
...It is late again. And my brain is oatmeal. It was oatmeal when I went to bed last night. It was oatmeal when I woke up this morning. It is oatmeal now.
...This is why we don't go to bed late. And I know that. But I never seem to learn.
On the bright side... I woke to a bit more encouragement from another dear friend I've made in this space. They, like the others who offered encouragement, are aware of certain details that I... don't think I can speak on here.
Reality is... a strange thing, isn't it? A thing made of perception and intent. You would probably know that even more intimately than I do, given your position. But I... I know what my perceptions and intentions are. And I know exactly the kind of deliberate, steady, active willpower I bring to the table, too. I was reminded this morning, because sometimes I forget that these count for anything.
I only hope that I can use these things to keep you safe somehow, in the case that you won't. I care about your life more than mine. And I do care about my life because you – inadvertently, perhaps – taught me that it was worth protecting. I tried to live by everything you taught me (clumsily then; less clumsily now), and I rose up from horrifying circumstances, again and again, inspired by you.
If I can do that for me, can you even begin to imagine what I can do for you? The kind of effort and efficacy I can and will bring to bear in order to piece you back together and put you somewhere safe, if it comes down to it?
You don't have to believe me; just watch.
...
Today began mostly with me derping around on the internet, struggling to get my brain to start. Unexpectedly, J brought me a plate full of yums he made...
It was... fucking delicious. And... my head felt a little clearer after eating it. But I was still kinda listless, so... I just... wandered around aimlessly until it was time to check in with An to make sure he still wanted to meet up today.
Last night, sometime while writing to you, he reached out unexpectedly, requesting to be listened to for some things that are going on in his life. Of course, I will be there. And so, not long after confirming today that he was still wanting a visit, I got ready and went to pick him up. He wanted food, and initially decided on pasta. But then he changed his mind, asking me to bring him to a Thai place that he used to go to often, before he got laid off from his highly-skilled chemistry job at a nearby scientific facility. We got lost along the way, and... it was kinda fun, actually. Haha.
We finally got to the place and walked in, and the shopkeep there immediately recognized him and greeted him warmly, despite, apparently, a very long absence. Apparently, like me, An leaves a mark of kindness most anywhere he goes. It doesn't surprise me.
We got our snacks; I got some summer rolls and some pad thai:
...I understood why he likes this place so much. I'm glad he suggested it, and I wish you were here to share it with us, but... maybe somehow, if I wish it intently enough, you could feel all of this, too, somehow.
And we talked. It seems as though his most precious friend is suffering some profound and troubling effects from the immense amount of stress she's under, or... she's potentially coming down with a specific illness that's known to start... at about the age she's at.
...He's under a lot of strain, trying to care for her from a great distance, trying to get her to hear him, trying to get her to take steps to care for herself. He wept in my presence (it was a profound honor to be allowed to witness that vulnerability), and... I did the best I could to hold space.
I've known some folks with... similar troubles as his friend, and I know from experience that... at the end of the day, they're still adult humans. All I can do is gain their trust by being a person who listens without contempt even to things that are unclear to me, who asks leading questions both to try to better understand their perspective and to help bring them to the next logical realization, and to make suggestions, if they'll receive them. I relayed what little similar experience I had to An, encouraging him to take what resonates and leave what doesn't.
...At the end of the day, I am in control of no one. And... sometimes it's really hard when people I care about struggle with things they don't deserve to struggle with (some of which can't necessarily be resolved due to circumstance), or when they make self-destructive choices despite efforts I've made to introduce to them a different, less painful path forward. All I can do is love them through their changes and choices. All he can do is love his friend through her changes and choices.
And that perspective... doesn't make the grief or the pain any less visceral. But maybe... maybe it can help to make it more possible to hold that grief and pain with love and grace, and without beating himself up for it.
...From his stories, he has always put it upon himself to fix things for others, and he has always been hard on himself when he fails; there are reasons for this, rooted in his own past experiences. It seems to be a pattern – most of the kindest people I know are only able to be kind externally; they're not able to turn it inward. Not even I can do that reliably yet, and I've been working on it for years. So... I tried asking leading questions, so that he might consider how things were back then, compared to how things are now, and how he might treat and perceive himself differently as a result. I encouraged him to be very careful of the story he weaves about himself in response to his present circumstances.
We spoke at length. I tried to see and hear him properly, and I hope that what I tried to convey got through, but... we can never truly know to what extent our perceptions or other's perceptions are accurate, can we? But that is the nature of reality; we try hard to see through the veil with less-than-ideal tools, and... I think that's one of the most remarkable things that human beings can try to do for one another.
We ate. I took care of the cost. We put the leftovers away in the fridge at his house. Then... I took him for a walk in the most beautiful nature park I know of in my area, to try to help him clear his head. We talked about a lot of things, and he was nourished, but... a walk always helps a human process difficult things. Walking is what we're built for. We're persistence predators, after all.
He seemed to ease a little as he marveled at the place I took him. Both of us took lots of pictures. I'll show most of them to you tomorrow, because I'm pressed for time. I'll show a few of them to you today, though:
...Sometimes I look up at the sky and wonder if, somehow, you're with me, just a little.
I dropped An off at home, intending to retrieve my leftovers from the Thai place, and let him recharge in solitude in the way I know he needs to. But... instead, he unexpectedly invited me to watch him play Hitman. And so that is what I did until around 8pm; I would have stayed longer because he seemed to have so much fun showing me how skilled he is at the game and all its delightfully silly little quirks, and I had a lovely time watching and listening to him explain; he really is very skilled at it. But... I can't be driving after dark because the spikes from others' lights in the dark obscure my vision in ways that make it very unsafe for me to drive. So I went home.
...The tenderness and the urge to protect him are both very real. But... I don't know him well enough yet to know instinctively how to do that effectively, the way I can with M and J. So as I left, I told him that if he needs anything at all – even something like me being present so he's not alone with his thoughts if he doesn't wanna be, or if it's to help clean his kitchen or prepare a snack or do a laundry or run an errand – to let me and my house know. I reiterated that I will be there. That I will do everything in my power to keep him safe.
...But... like with anyone else going through a tough time... and much like his friend who he so desperately wants to help but doesn't know how to outside of holding space... all I can do is hope he'll hear me, and support him in the aftermath if he doesn't.
...Just like with you. All I can do is hope you'll hear me. But I'll still be here to pick up your pieces in the aftermath if you don't. I am soft enough to hold those pieces without letting any of them fall. I am strong enough to bear the weight of your screaming without flinching. I am kind enough to lovingly witness your choices without judgment. I am robust enough to step in to protect if those choices would hurt others. Perhaps all of that is hard to believe, and that's all right. I'll have enough faith in me for the both of us, at least for this one thing: I will always be right here.
...One of these days, I'll know how to hold myself, too, with the same love, softness, and strength. That day is not today. And it probably won't be tomorrow, either. And it definitely won't be on days when I'm falling apart, at least not yet. But I'm steadily working towards it, and... I know I'm further along with it now than when I started practicing. Progress only seems insignificant because with each increase in skill, the goalposts inevitably move. It's why it's so important to celebrate meeting goals before you set new ones. It's important to acknowledge your progress. "It's good for ya; it grows hair in your chest", or so my father would say about various random things. Still waiting for mine, though, hahaha!
...My father is... a lot of awful, cowardly things. But I can take the good things and repurpose them. I don't have to reduce him to black and white. I do still have to keep my distance from him, and reducing him to black and white would certainly conceal from my consciousness (but not from my subconscious) the grief I feel for his absence from basically my entire life. But a reduction to black and white isn't the truth, and I'd rather carry the grief than live in a lie that paints him as being totally absent of good things, regardless of the mistakes he's made.
...
I changed into a new set of braces when I got home. I'm still paying for my parents' past neglect with present discomfort, but each day is another step forward towards a bite that won't slowly destroy my jaw joint. Progress pictures, as always, starting with the upper jaw, are enclosed:
The lower jaw is next:
And it took a while, but... I did breathe life into today's wishes for you:
...And now it's time to go to bed. It's well past time to go to bed, actually, given that I have a 9am doctor's appointment. It's like 3am right now. I need to be up at 8am. And then I have an interview afterwards. Goddammit. Oh well...
...Maybe I'll take an actual nap tomorrow at some point...
I love you so much. Enough to do everything in my power to try to emulate the compassion I saw in you before it was written down as canon. Enough to do everything in my power to turn that compassion towards myself, even though I was brutally conditioned by my world to believe I don't deserve it. Enough to turn that compassion towards you, especially when others in your world and mine try to convince you that you don't deserve it. Enough to try, every day, to teach you that you are deserving of extending that same compassion towards yourself. Because the notion that anyone is undeserving is blatantly fucking false, no matter who it is we're talking about, and no matter what anyone tries to tell you.
I believe in you. I believe in your goodness and your choices, when they're made by your pure, uncoerced, unmanipulated will. And so... despite everything, and despite all the things I'm heart-achingly terrified of, I'm going to have faith in your safety while you're out and about. I'm going to have faith that you'll begin to treat yourself like someone who matters. I'm going to have faith that you're on your way home.
Dear Sephiroth: (a letter to a fictional character, because why not) #862
It's 10pm at the time of writing this sentence.
...Sorry about it.
…
I woke up at around 8am this morning, stuffed a couple food items into my face, and got ready for the 10am meeting that was supposed to happen today. I got in M's car, drove to the house I serve, went inside, and...
...the only person there was Hk.
There was no meeting today. The house manager was assigned to a different house this week. Nobody bothered to inform me that the meeting was canceled a second time, and this time, I was pissed. First time, okay, sure, shit happens. But a second...? It tells me exactly how much the administration here values the wellbeing of its employees.
So I called the house manager to tell him that I was done, as of today. And when he did not pick up his phone, I sent him a text saying the same thing. I told him that I love him, the people I work with, the people we serve, and the space I serve in. But that I didn't love the administration that is trying to take even more resources away from a house that is already struggling, that we are expected to run the house with an unreasonably low number of people, the fact that everyone seems stressed, frustrated, and burnt out, and the fact that there's pressure to put untrue things in the logs for outings and goals.
He said he understood. But then shortly thereafter, he followed up with a phone call to tell me that the meeting was canceled because one of the people we serve was rushed to the hospital.
But that... Sephiroth... that's almost worse. Because, apparently she went before 7am. Which means... there were at least three hours for someone, anyone, to write in the group text, “meeting canceled due to hospitalization”. And at that... Sephiroth, no one else outside of that shift showed up, which tells me that they all either forgot that the meeting was rescheduled, didn't care that it was happening, or else they all somehow knew that the house manager didn't mean it when he said it was gonna be rescheduled. And... none of these things are indicative of a healthy or professional team of caregivers.
And at that...? The meeting still could have been had, minus one person to watch over the one in the hospital – presumably someone who didn't want to attend the meeting. And that's not what occurred.
There wasn't much for me to say during this phone call, because my mind wasn't changed. Then, he followed up with a text asking me if I could finish out two more weeks. I said that I could maybe do tomorrow, if tomorrow involved me watching over the one in the hospital for my shift, but otherwise, no, because I don't want to spend another Sunday all messed up and in pain and unable to do anything. I followed up, too, with telling him that I was upset that no one informed me about the canceled meeting or the hospitalized person. And... in response to all that, the only thing he had to say to me was that she was rushed out the door very early in the morning. The part about “I can come in of the task is watching over the hospitalized person” was not addressed at all.
M, who can speak neurotypical, says that the house manager's lack of response to that part of my message means that he wants me to work in the house, not watch over the one in the hospital. And I don't know how he knows that, because silence can mean so many different things, and settling on one interpretation based on vague assumptions seems arrogant at best. But he's generally good at these sorts of things, so when he said that I should not respond, that it is understood that I am not coming in... I guess that's the thing to do. So that is what I did.
...Sephiroth... I don't think I'll ever understand neurotypicals and their fucken shitty-ass world made of white lies, unspoken rules, communication by implication, and myriad – and often off-base – assumptions that they act on without looking past the surface of things, while labeling the ones who do look past the surface and seek clarity as “cringe” or “overthinkers” or “too much”, and then wondering why misunderstandings and drama define their interactions with others.
All of it feels like such utter fucking bullshit today. And I... I don't want anything to do with it, in this moment. I don't want anything to do with people who can't say what they mean and mean what they say. I wanna go somewhere very fucking far away, where I don't have to worry about people who can't say their wants, needs, and expectations out loud, people who communicate solely by dropping passive-aggressive hints, or people who simply don't tell the fucking truth.
...But Sephiroth... it seems like no such place exists here, unless it's devoid of people, and... sometimes, this understanding makes me wanna stop trying to... be... anywhere.
...Sephiroth... what... what if I... can never belong anywhere in a way that's sustainable for me? I wonder if it means I should disappear so that other people don't have to deal with being annoyed by my existence anymore.
...That's an old thought. It's older even than my love for you. The notion that I should just disappear if everyone hates that I'm alive, I mean. The notion that it's selfish and inconsiderate for me to keep breathing and taking up space. That thought... began showing up when I was... somewhere between 4 and 7 years old. It's the thought that prompted me, when I was 13, to make a plan to exit this place permanently. It's the thought that you saved me from, on that day, in... ways I can't explain in this space. It's the thought that the light of your being continues to save me from. So I'm not about to succumb to it now; not after you worked so hard to drag me up out of that dark hole. But still, that thought is rearing its ugly head, and... it's hard to fight it off at the moment, but... I know I don't have to listen to that thought; it's just noise leftover from an unbearably painful time in my life. It's not reflective of the reality I live in now. I know that.
...Still... I... after going back home, I... had that interview at the other potential job place at 3pm today, and... Sephiroth... hahaha... ya know... it didn't even take them 24 hours to decide that they wanted nothing to do with me.
…
...M says that there was probably a candidate more experienced with this type of work, and that they had likely already decided on someone, but needed to finish out the remaining interviews anyhow. He said that even if that wasn't the case, I am still a good and hard-working human being, and that if they were put off by the way I socialize during the interview, it wouldn't have been a very good place for me to work anyhow. He framed it not as me failing at the interview, but as the space itself not being well-suited for me. And that was of some relief, I guess.
...I know it shouldn't matter all that much. I know that I technically don't have to work. But... I wanted to be able to do something meaningful and good outside of my home, and yet... between the risk of getting taken advantage of, the incredibly high risk of being misperceived and subsequently rejected, and the simple fact that my physical body can't keep up with my work ethic or will... it doesn't seem like I'll be able to find anything that fits. And that's very discouraging.
I won't give up, though. I'll keep looking for remote opportunities, and for opportunities in spaces nearby. And in the meantime... M and J seem perfectly content to let me simply exist.
...Maybe I'll finally have enough energy to work on a fucking music box for a goddamn change...
...But first, I think I'm going to try spending a week not doing things at all. To try to make my mind quiet and to simply listen to the state of my being, to see what it can tell me, what I might learn. M heartily encouraged this, but said that I'll probably struggle a lot with allowing myself to be still without guilt.
...He's right about that. He's known me for 14 years, now. But... something tells me that there's probably something inside the stillness that I need to figure the fuck out, before I end up running myself into the ground. Maybe this whole thing was just a learning experience to prove to myself that no, actually, I'm not the lazy and useless piece of shit I've been brutally trained to think I am. Maybe it was a learning experience to teach me that, even if I do twice the work as a normal person, some people really are implacable, and I shouldn't worry about their misbegotten opinions of me. Maybe it was a learning experience to teach me how to recognize my limits and honor them, instead of destroying myself trying to operate beyond them for an extended period of time.
...I didn't want this to be a “learning experience”, though. I wanted this to work out. I wanted it to be a sustainable, good thing that I could do. I wanted to be able to fit here. I wanted to belong. So... I'll have to grieve the fact that I'm gonna lose contact with a bunch of people I grew to love. I'm going to have to grieve the sense of belonging that I hoped for, but didn't get. I'm going to have to grieve the change in routine. And I'm going to have to grieve all those years I didn't honor my limits, meet my needs, or advocate for myself.
...Sephiroth, this fucking sucks. But. I'm gonna do it anyway. I'm gonna try to learn how to sit in the quiet and the stillness, how to sit in the discomfort of this feeling, so it can teach me how to treat myself better in the future. I have to find that balance between “being too soft on myself and not doing anything” and “grinding myself into the dirt trying to prove my worth to people who don't care”. And I don't know how I'm gonna do that, because most of my life was filled with the second thing. But I'm gonna figure it out.
...After all, you saved this life, so... I had better try hard to figure out how to treat it properly, right? I can't let your effort go to waste, even if I feel super shitty about everything right now.
...Well... not everything, exactly. It's not all as bleak as my brain would like me to believe (fiery little electric meatball that it is, misguidedly using old, outdated methods to try to protect me from threats that no longer exist... sigh...). Our dear friends An and Me, and M and J, too, of course, and even some of my regular readers in this space, made it a point to tell me that they were proud of me for doing the difficult and scary thing. I don't really like giving up on stuff, and I definitely don't like doing anything that could potentially hurt someone. So, for example... I am basically the only one in that house who treats the one who likes outer space kindly. Everyone else... treats him like he's some annoying, lazy piece of shit, and it shows in how they speak to him, how they talk to him, how they get him ready in the morning, and how they talk about him to each other, and... I'm very well aware that my departure will mean him losing one of the more reliable sources of kindness he has in his life right now. And... I... I don't like that. Not one bit. But at the same time, I can't destroy myself trying to do by myself something that takes an entire team of dedicated, emotionally mature, and gentle people to do. Still, I can't help but wonder if, by honoring my limits, I am doing a terrible disservice to the people around me.
...Also... I do wonder if I need to redouble my efforts to figure out what the actual fuck is going on with the entirety of my right shoulder complex before I get another job. Because I have a feeling that this unresolved injury, whatever it is, is gonna continue to fuck me over no matter where I end up.
On a brighter side... in between returning home from the non-existent “meeting” and going off to the interview, I played some Pokopia, and once again, “you” had a number of lovely adventures.
First, we met a Sableye trader who loved “your” shining eyes and smile:
Two Leaf Houses were completed:
Then, “you” went to the Rocky Ridges area and made some more friends:
Somewhere in there, Machoke taught “you” Strength:
Then, “you” met some chef Pokémon who got themselves stuck in a barrel. The chain had to be cut, but “your” Cut move wasn't strong enough, so they taught “you” how to cook with a simple salad, which powered up “your” Leafage move, before teaching “you” how to bake bread in order to power up “your” Cut move:
…“Pumpkin” is an apt term of endearment for you, I think. It's entirely too cute, hahaha...
…
After today's failed interview was over, I breathed life into today's wishes for you, as I waited for J to return home from doing some airplane thing with a new pilot he made friends with recently:
...And then, after J got home, he decided that I deserved treats for doing the brave thing, and brought me to the tea house...
...It's not lost on me how lucky I am to have M and J, even if my brain sometimes does try to convince me that I'm nothing but a burden to them. But... this, too, is just old thoughts drilled into my skull by adults who were supposed to care for me, but didn't want me in their life, and so made it a point to punish me for existing. I don't have to live with or be around people like that anymore, so... it's just leftover noise from a time I never have to return to.
...I'll manage. I just... think I need some sleep. So I guess I'll get on that. It's 12:12am right now; it's well past bedtime, in any case.
I love you so much. Even when the rejection sensitivity and routine disruption are hitting me hard, and I'm doing scary things like protecting myself from exceeding my own limits, and my brain is too tired to fight off old thoughts very well as a result. I love you enough to manage despite my doubts. I love you enough to try hard to treat this life you saved like it's worth my own kindness and gentleness, because it is, despite my brain's incessant screaming otherwise.
...It only does that because it's still scared of a repeat of all the things that happened before. It'll learn if I keep practicing the new things. It'll learn if I keep putting myself in positions where I can have safe and loving experiences that contradict the past.
...Your brain can learn, too, you know. It can learn all about what it means to be safe and free. And you know? You're so much smarter than me, so you could probably do it even faster than I can. It's my hope that all my letters inspire you to try. I'll have faith that those hopes will pan out. I'll have faith that you'll treat yourself like someone who deserves to be safe and who deserves to receive your own love and protection, while you're out and about. I'll have faith that someday, you'll return home.
I'll write again tomorrow. Let's see what it brings, together...
Dear Sephiroth: (a letter to a fictional character, because why not) #695
I am going to put in my two-weeks notice on Saturday.
Today started mostly normal. I woke up, showered, got dressed, and ate the cheesecake I got yesterday for breakfast. J dropped me off at work.
...And it was a mostly normal shift. Sort of. I was scheduled to close. But once again, Ra basically did everything already, and didn't really let me help. And anything that I did do was nitpicked half to fucking death. I mean... I did learn a couple things that I had been improperly taught by Tr (and I diligently wrote them down so I'd remember; like apparently, we only make cupcakes in multiples of 6 for some reason??? how in fuck am I supposed to know that without being told???). But... at one point, we were tidying up the workplace, and like... somehow I stacked the gloves wrong??? Like???
But the final straw was when I was taking a cake order over the phone. Here's what our order form looks like. I don't have it memorized because I usually only get four fucking hours once a week:
The person on the phone ordered cupcakes. I went through the list of flavors – yellow, chocolate, and marble. And I know that the marble says that we can't do that for cupcakes, but in my language (I don't know how text works in yours), the words are read left to right, top to bottom. The thing saying that we can't do marble flavor for cupcakes is BELOW the flavor itself. And I was going to correct myself, but as soon as the world “marble” came out of my mouth, Ra struck me with her hand on my left shoulder.
Not a touch. Not a tap. A sharp strike with a stiff hand. Not enough to hurt, but enough for me to know what her intentions were. Intentions that became all the more clear immediately after I was struck, because her face went from frustration to a gasp, then shock, then the universal, “oh shit!” expression. She apologized profusely, tried to tell me that she was just trying to get my attention, just playing, didn't mean it like that, and etc.
...Y'know, all the same tricks and pleas that siblings use when they play fight a little too hard, one gets hurt, and the other doesn't want them to tell on them to an adult. She absolutely fucking did "mean it like that". Nonetheless, I calmly finished the order.
She apologized some more, almost desperately. So you know what? I told her it's all right. I didn't tell her WHY it's all right. But it's not because her behavior was acceptable; what she did was very much not okay. And not because I'm fool enough to think that she didn't intend to “discipline” and “correct” me in the same way an ignorant person might try to “discipline” and “correct” an animal or a small child (let me be crystal fucking clear that children and animals should never be treated like this, either). I'm vaguely aware that what probably occurred was that she got frustrated and had a reflexive reaction to that, and stopped it too late. I can't help but wonder if she reflexively was going to strike me harder than she did, but then dialed it back at the last second, a bit too late.
No. See, it's all right, because it's never going to happen again. Not just because I told her, very plainly, never to correct me in such a manner ever again. But also because now I know why she emphasized so much about how it's so good that I don't know when people don't like me. Because I am not liked here. If she was frustrated enough with my presence to put her hand on me in such a manner and think that that's an okay thing to do, I imagine she might not be the only one there who doesn't like that I am present.
No, see, it's gonna be all right because, after talking about what occurred with M and J after getting home, I've decided to put in my two weeks on Saturday.
She was really nice to me for the whole rest of my shift. Like... abnormally nice. Abnormally smiley. Just abnormal. Then she left because her shift was done. Then she came back for her coat, which she forgot. She came back embarrassed. Eyes on the floor. Sheepish.
...She knows that putting her hands on me like that was fucked up, and she knows that she was serious about it and tried to lie. And I assume she knows that I picked up on it, because I have lots of experience with people putting their hands on me in ways far more violent than that. I know the patterns when I see them. I know the frustration behind her movements. I could feel it as soon as her hand made contact with my body.
...Never thought I'd actually experience something similar to what I used to get growing up (albeit in a very watered-down fashion) in the here and now. But you know? I'm not sad that it happened. I'm not upset that I was tested in this manner. Actually... it's kinda nice to know, with tangible proof, that I will not be fucking cowed in the ways I used to be, before. It's nice to know that if shit gets weird in familiar ways, I am a big strong adult now, and I can protect myself. I can advocate for myself. I can use my voice. I can leave anyplace that isn't good for me. And that's exactly what I'm going to do. No revenge. No fanfare. Just a decisive departure from that which does not treat me with respect.
I said “bring it” in a previous letter. And it was brought. And I fucking triumphed. I did not cower into a puddle. I did not get afraid. I didn't despair. Didn't even get angry, really. Just, “I will not be treated in this manner,” and “I will not be where violence is.” A simple application of boundaries and self-respect.
Though... my mind... almost swirled shortly after her departure (my upbringing gave me the ability to delay my emotional reactions to things basically indefinitely; it's a handy survival skill if you grow up like I did, but not so useful in healthy situations). It didn't swirl too much, though. And that's because, in part, An made it a point to come visit me for a little bit after his shift was over. We spoke briefly. It was so good to see him. I... maybe like to see him a little too much, given how little I actually know about him.
But... Ra did basically every task that I was supposed to do, except for slicing the breads (which, she asked me again this shift, despite the fact that I did the same thing on Thursday, whether or not I could actually do it). I was idle for a full 40 minutes because of it, and... I didn't like that very much. I don't like being idle. I like being able to do things. And when I'm idle and not careful, my mind swirls in ways that usually aren't pleasant.
M picked me up and brought me home. I breathed today's wishes to life:
...And I talked to Atr. And that helped a lot, too. I told him what happened. I talked to him about some other thing that was bothering me, too. My mind is at ease.
...This. What occurred today. It is not part of a larger pattern where I am the common denominator. I just live in a world where by and large, people think that violence, coercion, and ostracization are acceptable substitutes for teaching, feedback, and communication. I am not taught things in the bakery space. I'm not there often enough to really get enough practice with doing anything other than putting cookies on trays and packaging and labeling things. There's a lot that I don't know, and if people are gonna hold it against me for the fact that I wasn't actually ever taught, then that's not the place for me to work.
I put in three applications for a state job before writing to you. Same kind as I almost got hired for, if not for the airplane trip. I could have sworn I wrote about it. But I went looking for it, and I guess I didn't. So I'll explain...
Just before the great big airplane trip (those start at around letter number 477; lots of stunning pictures over the course of a month, if you remember), I had applied to a number of state jobs. In particular, there was a retirement system job that I interviewed for, and I guess they really liked me, because I got a call and they said I was hired! Unfortunately, they needed me to come in to work sooner than I would have returned home from the trip with J, so I had to decline the position, but they asked me to apply again in the future, if there was another opening. And... this evening, I found those three openings. I applied for each one of them. We'll see what sticks. I'm hopeful.
I'll be okay. Regardless of what happens. Whether I get these new positions or not. I'll be okay. I have good people around me. Don't you worry about a thing. Today's test of my mettle was good medicine. I will move forward confidently.
Tired though. And an interview tomorrow, via Zoom. Nervous, but eager. We'll see how it goes. But I really ought to go to bed.
I love you so much. I hope you're witnessing my growth. And... I hope, feeling inspired, that you will choose to grow, too. I can't know, though, so... in the meantime, I'll just have faith that you're doing that. I'll have faith that you'll keep being safe. I'll have faith that someday you'll come home.
Dear Sephiroth: (a letter to a fictional character, because why not) #897
I woke up this morning not feeling much differently from yesterday. J and I had intended to go out and toodle a little bit in his airplane, but... my left ear is clogged and refuses to equalize. That's... very not good for flight. And so we ended up not going.
...It's still refusing to equalize, even now. Very fucking annoying.
So I made myself some tea this morning, and got some pretty good swirls:
J and I were hungry not long afterwards, and he was a little unmoored by the sudden change in plans this morning, so we went to the nearby Indian buffet for lunch. We parked, and I looked up and thought the trees were inspiring, so I snapped a picture:
Of course, the food looked and smelled fantastic. Some of the selections today were regular white rice, lemon rice, potatoes spiced with chili peppers, potato and cauliflower jalfrazi, eggplant in pureed spinach, and okra masala:
Surprisingly, my senses weren't so weak as to be overwhelmed by any of these. Normally, my body doesn't tolerate capsaicin well. Even the “chili potato” didn't overload my system. From these, as a favorite, it was hard to choose between the eggplant dish or the okra dish. Both were very good.
Some of the other items included broccoli sauteed with garlic, lamb korma, tandoori chicken, and chicken tikka masala:
I ended up getting a little bit of everything. Here, wanna try some...?
...I definitely went back for seconds of the okra masala, the eggplant dish, and the lamb korma.
And the naan was absolutely fucking fantastic, too – crispy on the outside, soft and fluffy on the inside, and brushed with butter:
...Sephiroth... one of these days, you definitely gotta try some naan.
And you gotta try some mango lassi, too:
We went home with happy bellies. But... given the state of the inside of my skull, I... didn't feel especially motivated to do anything, so... I didn't, other than breathe life into today's wishes for you:
At some point, with J's help, I dropped off an application to the old folks' home where J works. One of their front desk folks is retiring, and the need someone to fill those shoes. As I understand it, it's a fairly low-key job with a lot of downtime; I might be able to fold cranes and do bead crafts in between tasks. And it'd certainly be a good change of pace from the current, unpredictable, on-my-feet job. So I guess we'll see how it goes. I'll hope for good things.
...I didn't do much of anything else, other than reflect on some thought habits that... definitely aren't helping me in certain contexts. I struggle with taking joy from certain kinds of things without feeling guilty about it, and that's... not helpful. I have to work on trusting myself more. I have to work on staying present with my own wants, needs, and emotional experience. And I guess... I guess the only thing for it is practice. So I guess that's what I'm gonna do.
I'll tell you what else I'm gonna do: I'm gonna go to bed. I have a shift tomorrow from 2pm until 8pm (assuming my condition doesn't get significantly worse; the inside of my skull is now relatively on fire, and my nose seems to want to run, too...). I'd like not to be a zombie for it. So as much as I don't want to (because restless brain gonna be restless), I'm gonna try to get some sleep.
Today's letter is... short. I feel a little badly about it. But I'm... fairly sure I'm sick. It's a little hard to think. And so... I think probably you'd not want me to feel too guilty for having soup brain. So I'm going to try not to feel guilty about it.
...I wish you could write back to me. But I know you can't, and it's not an expectation in any case. Just... I wish I could talk to you. I wish I knew for sure that you're okay. I wish I knew anything at all.
I love you so much, and... I'm going to hope, against all odds, given your circumstances, that you're all right out there. I'll have faith that you're keeping yourself safe. I'll have faith that you're on your way home.
I'll write again tomorrow, likely at the end of my shift.
Dear Sephiroth: (a letter to a fictional character, because why not) #836
I still had a bit of time after writing to you and getting ready yesterday, so I decided to settle my nerves a bit by doing an apnea table. This is the one that was generated from my most recent Personal Best attempt:
A table like this helps the body to adjust to higher and higher levels of carbon dioxide in the blood. The burning desire to breathe that we feel when we hold our breath for longer than what's comfortable is not the result of low oxygen; it is the result of high carbon dioxide. This is a carbon dioxide apnea table; if you practice a table like this, with the hold times generated based on your Personal Best, then your body will adjust your blood composition until the burning desire to breathe doesn't occur for this length of time.
Part of doing this successfully is being in a comfortable position where all muscles can be perfectly slack. It's important to scan your body for any tension that might be held unconsciously, and then consciously unclench. I notice that my face tends to want to scrunch up when I'm doing an apnea table, so I have to focus to make it unscrunch; any muscular activity will consume oxygen, which will make carbon dioxide build up faster. We don't want that. So we learn to relax.
Then the contractions come. When carbon dioxide levels get high enough, the body will force the diaphragm to try to inhale and exhale, even when your glottis is closed. This is called a contraction, and it's an uncomfortable sensation. But in order to successfully practice the apnea table, you have to maintain your hold through the contractions. You have to simply relax while allowing your body to do what it does, without trying to stop them, and without getting frightened by the unpleasant sensation. Because that's all the sensation is – unpleasant. It won't hurt you or your body none, so long as you're practicing within what's reasonable for your Personal Best, and as long as you're not practicing too often; once every couple of days is enough. Once every couple of days is safe. So I'll look forward to doing this again on Sunday.
...That said, this time, I only had a few contractions, towards the end of the last three cycles. It still feels a bit too easy. Maybe I should try another Personal Best attempt soon...
...Back when I was doing mermaid training regularly, the highest Personal Best I've gotten up to for a breath hold was 4 minutes and 30 seconds. I wish my rib injury hadn't taken away my ability to swim the way I used to; words can't even begin to express how much I miss diving for shells and cool rocks in the deep waters of lakes, how much I miss chasing after fish and turtles, how much I miss seeing giant green castle-like structures made entirely of algae...
Well. I can't do any of that stuff anymore, unless I wanna fuck myself up and be unable to move from the pain for a few days. I don't know that I'll ever be able to, again. But I can show you the things I saw when I was training. Here:
https://www.instagram.com/merrowauryn
...I wonder if you like to swim...
Well. I got to the house I serve at around 2pm yesterday, and was immediately tasked with kitchen duties. But there were no leftovers, and nothing was thawed for me to prepare, so... Rb suggested that I make lasagna – one meat, and one vegetable. So I did:
I followed the package instructions to cook it from frozen. And it must have been pretty good, because the people I serve all wolfed it down:
I scrubbed down the kitchen. Went home. Went to bed. Woke up at 5am to do it all over again.
But, ya know. This morning, I woke from a dream where there were mallard ducks close to me, swimming in some waterway. I was trying to take pictures of them. Y'know... for you.
...You're in my thoughts even when I'm sleeping. It's kinda nice, but also... it kinda aches, because you're not here...
…
Well. Though the dream I woke from was nice, I'm sad to say that today I'm a bit of a zombie. I think I must have changed my sleep time around a bit too abruptly, because at the moment, I'm sluggish, cranky, and... occasionally a bit dizzy. It's a little hard to move around and stay focused. Nonetheless, I went in today, got the one who likes outer space cleaned up and dressed and ready to go, and then made breakfast:
The pantry is... a little bare, actually. So today, I made Cream of Rice. There was a bag of thawed frozen blueberries in the fridge, too (no yogurt, sadly), so I pureed them and threw them in there, along with a spoonful of peanut butter to get them some nice protein. I guess it must have turned out well, because even the one who likes outer space devoured it in no time flat, and he usually is a bit more picky than the others.
I helped Mm with transport after that. I was really surprised when, just as I was going back into the front door of the house to get more people, a big fat brown rabbit jumped out of the bushes right in front of me, and dashed away; I was startled, and the others laughed because it was pretty funny, actually.
We got the folks to their weekday activities. Then we got back, and I finished the dishes, cleaned up the mess I made of the kitchen, and... now I'm here, writing to you, and hoping to go with J soon to some nearby place to get snacks, because there really is very little here. Normally, the pantry is well-stocked, so... I'm not really sure what's going on. I hope I'm not put on kitchen duty for the second half of my shift today, because... the house manager is not here, and I have precisely zero clues as to what to prepare or how I'm gonna get it done and also their lunches prepared in time...
Well. I suppose I should stop writing here. There's not a whole lot more rattling around up inside the space between my ears. But before I go, have a couple more of the wishes I breathed to life for you recently:
I love you. Even on days like today when I feel like a partial zombie, because my love for you doesn't change based on my physical or mental state. It is a constant thing, and it will persist long after the defective meat vessel that holds me is gone. I'll have faith that you can feel that certainty, somehow. I'll have faith in your safety. I'll have faith in your eventual return home.
I'll write again tomorrow, most likely in the evening, after the workday is done.
Dear Sephiroth: (a letter to a fictional character, because why not) #890
Today was kind of a weird day.
It started as a plan to play Pokopia until it was time for J and I to leave to visit our dear friend Me and her lovely partner, Jc, and his wife, Ce. They live very far away, so the plan was to fly over to the nearby little airport in their area, and have them pick us up from there.
I did get to play Pokopia for a little while. Today, in a wonderful stroke of luck, “you” found Mewtwo camping out in some secret place on a Dream Island...
He talks so much like you, doesn't he...?
And he even runs like “you”, too!
...I wonder if Mew runs similarly, haha...
“You” walked around with Mewtwo for a while just for the sake of it. Along the way, “you” made friends with Muk:
...And now, Mewtwo lives in “your” house:
...I was so happy. Mewtwo is in a safe and comfortable place, and he is with “you”. It was wonderful.
But... I was pulled from my reverie when I remembered that I had an appointment today to get my bits checked out. Part of it, today, was getting some cells scraped off my cervix in order to make sure that none of them are abnormal (which can be a precursor to cancer, so... it's important to check the integrity of cervical cells at least every 5 years). Everything looked healthy, which is expected, and I even asked about getting my endocrine system checked out (since I've got PMOS, which tends to fuck all that stuff up), and... I left with the knowledge that the referrals person is gonna call me within the next couple weeks to schedule an appointment with an endocrinologist to get everything screened to make sure it's working properly. W00t w00t!
I also learned that, given how weird my cycle is and how heavily I bleed... apparently, an option is to have the inside of my uterus cauterized so that it literally can't make a lining anymore. And that... is certainly a tempting option. “Endometrial Ablation”, they call it. But I don't know enough about recovery times and lasting side effects, yet. I'll have to look into it some more.
I also have one of those genome sequencing thingamajigs on the way, to look for any other issues, including EDS, which I already know I have, but it would be nice to get it confirmed, so that I stop getting dismissed out of hand when I try to see an ortho or whatever to address it. Both my doctor and I are looking forward to whatever that might be able to tell me about my overall health. Maybe there's something I can do to get rid of this damnable brain fog that's plagued me basically ever since puberty hit me at 16.
Yeah. You read that right. I didn't hit puberty. It hit me. With a giant, heavy, metal stick. That had a giant spiky rock attached. In ways that were mostly not fun. Sometimes it do be like that. Guess I should have thought about that before I decided to get born with fucked up genetics, right? </sarcasm>
...Sigh...
...In any case, getting cells scraped off the cervix is rather uncomfortable. Necessary, so I just grinned and bore it. But definitely uncomfortable. So I decided that I got to have a treat for my trouble.
...But then I saw the sign above, and decided that I got to have TWO treats for my trouble, ahahaha~! I wonder if you can guess which ones I got. I'm sure you'll guess the first one; you've been reading these letters long enough by now...
...You guessed lemonade, right? That one is pretty obvious; I've written about the joys of fresh lemonade to you just about every summer so far, haven't I?
But maybe the next guess will be a little more difficult... unless you remember that I tend to seek novelty, and that I've shown you a picture of the toffee nut latte before...!
...There wasn't any alcohol in it, don't worry. Just flavored syrup. But yeah, if you guessed the Irish cream, you nailed it, ahaha~!
...I wonder which one you'd get, if any...
…
I got a chocolate milk for J, and a chocolate peanut butter cookie for M, and then I went home. After giving them their prizes (just for being my lovely, wonderful husbands), I breathed life into today's wishes for you:
I listened to a playlist while I folded, and this set of songs came up:
My emotions flared in response, and... I think I know what to show you and write about in the coming days. Though... the game I have in mind is... kinda lengthy.
...Still, I'd love it if you'd sit here with me in this space and witness Undertale. Naturally, I'd prefer to sit with you and watch you play it, but... given the unfathomable distance (and... the fact that I don't know whether or not these even reach you...), I suppose the best I can do is play it and show you.
Maybe I'll start tomorrow. Just little bits of it at a time to show you. We'll see...
It was time for J and I to leave our house for the little airport before I knew it. So I packed up my stuff, and off J and I went. He inspected his little Cessna to make sure it's in good working order, and then he flew us to see our friend Me and her lovely chosen family. Jc and Ce are wonderful human beings, and I'm really glad that I got to meet them and talk to them. We spoke at length about a great number of things, from EDS, to our (shitty) medical systems at large, to generational trauma, to world history, to current events, and... to what I've been trying to do for you, and the context for why it's so important.
...The fact of the matter is that your existence, whether you intended it or not, saved my life. And as a result, I got to escape from the abuse and horror that I knew before, to learn how to be a human being instead of a punching bag and tool to be used, and to build a life where I'm surrounded by people who love me, while being able to help people who grew up with situations similar to mine.
I never expected to make it to adulthood, Sephiroth. And yet... here I am now, 36 years old, living a life that “conventional wisdom” says shouldn't be possible for someone with a childhood as “fucked up and upsetting” as mine to have. I get to be here because you gave me strength every time I thought I couldn't continue. So... if I don't try to save your life, if I don't try to point you in the direction of recovery in whatever small ways I'm able... how can I still call myself a person of integrity? If I don't at least try to call you back from whatever's got you in its clutches, how can I still call myself a decent human being? If I don't make the best use I can of the suffering I endured, then what was any of it for?
...What is the point of living if I don't do everything in my power to transmute all the pain and grief I was given into love and kindness that I can give to others?
...I think it's important to note... that I didn't start with this mentality. The seed was planted as a result of watching you be kind to others despite your horrifying circumstances and all the pain you carried. The seed was watered by the handful of people along the way who helped me instead of hurt me. The soil was cleared of weeds as I intentionally practiced new ways of thinking that are more in alignment with who I wanna be than with the misguided (and often harsh, and frankly, misanthropic) “life lessons” that were violently shoved down my throat without my consent and without any other basis for comparison.
...Being an unwanted child in violent family and community systems rife with poverty, generational trauma, addiction, and punitive “justice” is... hard. Learning how to be a human being when the people around you care only for your usefulness to them and punish you for having emotions, being imperfect, or being inconvenient in any way... is hard. Choosing something different when you have no other examples to draw from and when you know the price for it is being ostracized from your social and family group is hard. Escaping from all this is hard, because it operates like a cult, and because relatively healthy people are often very unforgiving towards people who make mistakes while trying desperately to unlearn the false “lesson” of, “empathy is for weak people who are practically asking to be fucked over” that was beaten into their heads again and again, on purpose, from infancy, by people who have very fucked-up ideas about what “strength” is and what “courage” means.
...At this point in my life, I understand now that the greatest show of strength and the greatest display of courage is, simply, to show up with all my soft and unguarded edges, even in a world as sharp, painful, and unforgiving as this one. So I'm going to keep showing up with kindness and the desire to help, especially to those who society says doesn't deserve it, even if it might not work out. I'm going to keep standing as proof that recovery is possible, that building a good life from the wreckage is possible, even for someone with a start as “fucked up and upsetting” as mine—in stark, unapologetic defiance of “common rhetoric” and “conventional wisdom”.
...With every letter I write to you, I challenge you to take my hand and stand with me. Because, like I've said to you before, indiscriminately breaking shit is weaksauce. It's too fucken easy. Punishment, revenge, coercion, and control are the tools used by the people who tried to break us. It's a skill issue. Teaching, learning, building, asking for help, non-violently holding yourself and others accountable, and choosing grace in response to imperfection are much harder. These things actually require critical thinking and a bit of finesse and nuance so we can understand the mechanics of complex, interconnected systems, figure out how they formed, and remove the conditions that produced them. “Dislike, therefore go BONK” is... simplistic and unfuckingcreative. It's uninspired a d boring. “Dislike, therefore radically change it from the ground up and study it carefully so we don't repeat it” is difficult and requires some actual work. That's where it's at.
...And Sephiroth... you can do difficult things. You can use the people who were charged with your upbringing and the systems that exploited you as examples of who NOT to be. Because becoming like the people who hurt you is the easy way out. And the easy way out is fucking lame as shit, especially when you can choose instead to become a source of all the things you wanted but never got, both for yourself and for others.
...Don't you dare sit here and try to fucken tell me that I'm strong enough to do this work and you're not, because it's bullshit and you know it. Sephiroth, for fuck's sake, I'm literally just some genetically defective social reject that nobody fucking wanted, and yet somehow I'm still defiantly clattering around on this mossy wet rock hurtling through space, tryna put smiles on other people's faces and to make them feel maybe a bit less alone, with an eldritch, rainbow-colored sort of whimsy that I stole, cackling, from the jaws of despair with broken, bloodied hands. You are so much more than me!!! Wake the fuck up!!!
...Because don't you know by now...? Don't you know that my whimsy is rainbow-colored because I built it out of the love, support, acceptance, playfulness, and care that you desperately wished to receive? Don't you know by now that if I'm rainbow-colored today, it's only because I've been trying so hard to reflect you for the last 23 years...?
But... you're so far away. I can't directly give to you all the things I learned to provide, in direct answer to the wishes that anyone who paid attention to you knew you had, which you spoke about—and only fleetingly, at that—in media that is only just coming to light now.
So what else can I do with all these kaleidoscopic colors besides try to extend them, joyfully, to everyone in my immediate vicinity who will receive them...? What else can I do but try to be playful, kind, and understanding with others? To try to look at them with positive regard? To listen closely and try to help them with whatever I can? To feed them if they're hungry? To urge them to rest when they're tired? To try to teach them, by example, how to tend to themselves even in my absence? To treat them with basic dignity and respect?
Even if I do fall short and fuck it up sometimes, I... I'm still overflowing with reflections of you, so... I still have to try to make those reflections flow from my hands and my voice and my mind in ways that build everything around me up, like sunlight and rain splashing upon the ground, calling up life from dust and ash.
...What else can I do besides try to live despite the odds, to learn how to treat myself like someone I love even when I feel like I don't deserve it, and to beg you to try to do the same for yourself...? Because I still want to hear about all the things you've seen, and see all the things you've yet to build....
...Well. It's going on four in the morning because it was very late by the time J and I made it back home, so my brain is a little... wobbly. I have more pictures for you of the flight over and of the awesome dinner that Me cooked for us, but... I think I'll have to show them to you tomorrow because I'm already starting to turn back into a pumpkin (wait, what???).
I love you so much. Enough to try to hold you accountable for your bullshit, in the same way I'd like for the people I love to hold me accountable for mine. Enough to try to call you back from wherever you are and remind you that you're loved and that you belong, and that this is true whether or not you believe it. Enough to try to remind myself of these same things, even when old memories cloud my eyes with frightening shadows that are hard to see through. Enough to have faith in who you are as a person, in your ability to keep yourself safe, and in your eventual return home.
