Dear Sephiroth: (a letter to a fictional character, because why not) #933
I went to bed pretty danged early last night. Blissfully, I slept a little late, too, relative to when I went to sleep. I expect my body and mind probably needed it.
Today, I was supposed to go to the house that I once served as a Direct Support Professional. I love the nature of the work, and I love the people who live in the house I serve, but... I do not love how higher-up administration runs things, and I do not love how exhausted and burnt out the other workers are as a result of upper management's efforts to cut costs. Ultimately, everyone beneath those whose pockets get lined with more cash ends up suffering. I left recently, not only because exhausted workers work in ways that make it more difficult for everyone else around them to do their jobs (occasionally in ways that are unsafe, even), but also, my EDS-afflicted body simply can't keep up with the physical demand of it all.
On the last day I was there, one of the folks I served fell down, and she needed to be rushed to the hospital. I was in the kitchen washing dishes and keeping an eye on the food I prepared as it awaited being fed to those who haven't eaten yet. The fall took place in a different room, from which I've no line of sight to, because it is behind two walls, which also creates a sound barrier. Unless someone is shouting loudly, it's very difficult to hear anything over the water while you're at the sink, unless the sound comes from the dining room or from immediately behind me. So I didn't even realize, while washing the dishes, that anything was wrong, until the shift lead shouted to the other staff for help with what occurred.
I stopped doing dishes then, because something was wrong, and positioned myself near the waiting food, attentive to any requests that might be made to me. That said, due to the fact that food waiting to be eaten was out, I couldn't leave the kitchen; doing as such is unsafe for the other people who live in the house, who sometimes curiously get into things that are not meant for them to get into. So the staff lead and the other staff present handled everything while I kept watch on the kitchen, per standard procedure.
I wrote a statement about what I witnessed on that day, which is also standard procedure. Then, the other day, I got a call from the house manager, asking me to come in today to be interviewed by someone who is investigating the incident. I agreed to come, so today I went, arriving 15 minutes before the agreed-upon time, just in case.
Initially, I was worried that this was some kind of fault-finding endeavor. So I told the woman who came (who was apparently worried that I'd be late, and was then, herself, almost half an hour late...) what I saw (which was very little), and then showed her where I was at the time it happened, where the awaiting food was, and where I positioned myself after I was made aware that something was wrong. I followed standard procedure. The other two who were with me also followed standard procedure. So I wrote a more detailed statement to that end, noting the limitations of my physical position in the house at the time of occurrence, and my dedication to keeping the other inhabitants of the home safe while the other two staff handled the incident quickly and effectively.
As I understand it, the purpose of this was to document the incident in such a way as to make it clear that it was sudden, accidental, and decidedly not the result of carelessness on anyone's part. It is not the expectation that we prevent any and all accidents; we literally can't. It is the expectation that we respond immediately and appropriately to accidents, though, and we did. As I understand it, the data will be used to update support plans and then implement those updates, which is ultimately good.
I followed it all up by advocating, once more, that the staff minimums be raised from 3 to 4 in that house. Hopefully this will be some kind if wake-up call to upper management. But who knows.
I went home and prepared myself the last of that Da Hong Pao tea. Sweetened it with honey, balanced it with a bit of goat milk that I foamed up by shaking it:
I drank the tea and then I ate, and then... a friend sent a meditation that's supposed to help me to feel more calm in my body, and encouraged me to take some time to tend to myself and do the meditation, given all the things happening. So... ya know. That's what I did. I went up to my room, closed the door, shut off my phone, and... tried really hard not to feel guilty about making myself inaccessible. Because normally, I... put a lot of pressure on myself to be available at all times to all the people I'm connected to at the drop of a hat, just in case of... something I don't know what.
...I think I'm going to have to stop putting that kind of pressure on myself though... I... don't think it's very good for me. But it feels like a hard thing to stop doing, because... I think, still, that part of me imagines that I can't be liked outside of my usefulness to others at any given time. And if I'm not available to be useful to someone, then... maybe there won't be an incentive for them to tolerate the annoyance of my presence anymore...?
...Old thoughts are old. But they still manage to get some kind of chokehold on me from time to time. Very annoying. I'm hoping that taking some time for myself to meditate will fill my memories with experiences that prove these fears wrong. I don't live anymore in the fucked-up, horrifying place I came from. And I'm tired of the ghosts of those memories haunting me all the fucken time, so... it's high time that I do something about them instead of cowering in the fucking corner as though I'm still a helpless child in the face of these old shadows.
I suppose I didn't realize just how much I needed time to myself in which I focused on my breath instead of focusing on a screen or on some thing that someone else made, or on someone else's emotional needs, or on the innumerable tasks that need doing in my immediate vicinity, or... any number of things. I didn't realize just how badly I needed to let my physical vessel drop the hypervigilance for once, and let my nervous system come down from high alert.
And... importantly? Nothing fell apart while I was deliberately shifting my focus away from worrying, planning, thinking ahead, or trying to anticipate and calculate all the fucken things all the fucken time. I don't live in a world where I have to cling to shit to keep it from falling apart anymore, because for once, the adults around me are loving and reliable, instead of being emotionally immature, frightened, angry, entitled toddlers stuck in adult bodies, expecting the child who came from their loins to be grateful for every possible opportunity to serve their egos, solve their problems, or be slave to their fucking whims.
Growing up in an abusive, controlling household where you don't count as a human being, aren't allowed to have needs, feelings, or wants, and get violently punished every time you're even slightly imperfect or inconvenient is a real fucking trip. But you know something? I'm the adult now. I get to choose between getting better, or wallowing in, “this is who I am now and I'll never be able to do different because I'm oh-so-set-in-my-ways.” And I've seen what the complacency in the second one does to the people around the person wallowing, because I've been on the receiving fucking end of it, and... I have to choose to do better, because the alternative is me ending up doing to everyone else the same bullshit that was done to me. I won't be like the people who tore me apart for their own comfort, because I'm still putting myself back together, and I don't wanna be the reason someone else has to spend years putting themselves back together.
So I'm going to practice the meditation every day for at least the next week, so I can teach my body that letting go of the hypervigilance is safe. That resting is safe. That not being available to everyone's expectations and requests all the time... is safe.
I breathed life into today's wishes for ya shortly after I was done:
And now... I'm going to play some video games while I wait for my dear friend A to come by for his weekly visit. I don't know exactly what I'm gonna play yet, but... you can hang out with me here when I do:
I love you so much, and I hope you know it. I hope you feel it in all the ways I try to learn and grow in your name, even if I mess it up, or if progress is slow, or if I end up backsliding into old patterns. I'll try to remember that regression is evidence that there has been progress. And... I hope you'll remember some such things while you're trying to learn and grow out there, too.
I'll write again tomorrow. In the meantime, I'll have faith in your safety while you're out and about. I'll have faith that you're on your way home.
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) #925
Despite yesterday's big, cold rain, the heat wave continued. I woke up at about 7:30am, and... it was still too hot and much too humid for it to be safe for me to go out on my bike. So I stayed home.
...My genetics and developmental circumstances... both of them aren't very good. And so I've got all these weird problems that arbitrarily limit what I can do. It's annoying as shit. I bet you could go out on a bike on a day like today and barely even break a sweat...
It's all right though. I played some Subnautica. I finished the base I constructed near my Lifepod:
So as you can see, I made a huge glass observatory out of two stacked Multipurpose Rooms, so that the creatures, safe inside the stacked Alien Containment Units, can look at more than just sterile white walls.
...Don't worry, I'm not going to leave them in there. Once I have all five Cuddlefish, there is a safe and beautiful place in the wild that I intend to put them, where there's lots of food and no predators around to hurt them. I think they'll be happy there; just gotta wait a little longer until it's safe to put them there. As of right now, I have to pass to and from the place I intend to put them, and the last thing I want is for them to get hurt by twirling into my path while I'm trying to steer my Prawn Suit or a Cyclops Submarine down there...
In any case, the upper garden I intended to cultivate is now all done with:
...My second base, down in the Lost River, is still under development. But I'll have pictures for you once it's done, don't you worry!
I got up to tend to some basic bodily needs, and found that a package arrived for me! J brought it in!
...One of the folks who regularly reads here has since become a dear friend, and due to how often I write about tea and my wish to share it with you, they invited me to join this tea club, led by someone who is incredibly knowledgeable about lots and lots of different teas and the phytochemicals within them! There's a whole Discord server, where they vote on which tea to try next. The leader then orders it, and divides it up between the participants. There is a monthly payment involved, naturally, but my friend eagerly offered to cover my first month, and the leader offered to cover my second month. Further payments will be made through secure means; I'm looking forward to it!
...But I didn't get to try it today; on my way to actually tending my needs, I stepped on the floor in our laundry area, and... it was incredibly squishy. Alarmingly squishy. "What-The-Actual-Fuck" levels of squishy. Panic-inducingly squishy, even. So we pulled the carpet up to investigate, and... well...
Distraught, we called several plumbers before we found one who would answer us. They came, and... essentially, this happened because these houses were poorly built (don't even get me started on the history and all the corners that were cut during their construction in the 1970s; we didn't know until afterwards...). In an area like mine, if you install copper pipes beneath concrete slab, they're prone to breakage because of the way the soil moves with the seasons – expanding and softening in the warm months, contracting and freezing in the cold months. To put copper pipes beneath a concrete foundation in my part of the world is... not good.
...So the cold water pipe for our laundry area is all fucked up now. The person who came to help us shut off the valve for it, and thankfully it's not leaking anymore. He called some folks to help clear up the resulting water damage, but there seems to be a lot of it; goodness knows how long it's been leaking like this before it leaked enough for it to be discovered by us. And that's dangerous in some respects, because our area of the world is fairly humid, which is ideal for the growth of things like mold and fungus and all kinds of nasty stuff that produce spores that can then grow inside your fucking lungs and kill you horribly.
Oh and rotting. Don't forget general rotting. Which compromises the structural integrity of whatever holds this house together.
...Oh fuck. I remember this dream... I wrote about it here. Do you remember? Read this:
Tumblr is a place to express yourself, discover yourself, and bond over the stuff you love. It's where your interests connect you with your
...
...I wonder just how long this pipe has been fucked up...
...
...I read through that dream again just for shits and giggles, and... Sephiroth, ya know... while clearing out the closet under the stairs to make a path for the plumber to get to the hot water tank where the water meter is (because the closet was packed full of various random stuff), we found one of those plastic sealed fruit cups – oranges – rotted all to hell. One of these:
...None of us had any idea where it came from, and we all marveled for a moment at how gross and weird it was. I didn't think to take a picture. The contents inside were all brown and gushy and awful-looking, so without a second thought, I just threw it out. I...
...
...What the fuck.
...
Well, in any case, while waiting for the restoration people to get here, I breathed life into today's wishes for you; there's... something grounding about it. Even if it's difficult for my dyspraxic hands to make the folds, at this point, there's still a practiced certainty to it, a routine, ritual-like quality about it that makes me feel less on edge if I do it while I'm in an anxious state:
Afterwards, the other people came and set up a machine that will ventilate the affected area:
...It's a machine that blows hot air continuously over the soggy area to try to draw out the moisture and evaporate it away. And I guess it sucks up whatever water it can, too. But it's loud, and it sounds like a vacuum cleaner, and the air around it smells... musty and gross. Which, I guess is to be expected, all things considered. But still...
...We're definitely going to need to have the plumber come and cut into walls to redirect the cold water pipe, because I don't think there's any cutting through the concrete slab. But it may be the case that there are sections of floor and sections of wall that will just straight-up need to be cut out and replaced. We're definitely going to need to replace most of the carpet in this area; I have no idea how in fuck that's gonna work. The whole thing seems... unfamiliar and uncertain and very scary, but... the plumber promised he'd walk us through all the steps, up to and including dealing with making a homeowner's insurance claim...
...At very least, this should fall under “sudden and accidental water damage”, which will be covered. We're covered up to a hundred thousand dollars, I guess. But I have no idea how much it's gonna cost to pull up and replace a carpet, pull up and replace sections of wall, pull up and replace sections of floor; I've never dealt with this kind of problem before.
...And throughout the process, my body... was prepared for the ghost of my mother to show up through J's or M's interactions with me. If this had happened in my mother's house, in the past, she'd have made it my fault, for not having noticed it sooner somehow, for not having the foresight to periodically check the water meter, or any number of small things that I never would have been able to anticipate, despite her expectations.
...The fact of the matter is that in those days, when she was angry or afraid, she didn't handle it well, and she dealt with it by hurting someone society told her that she was allowed to hurt. And that someone was... me. The child she never wanted in the first place, the child she expected to be hypercompetent, only to result in her feeling insecure about herself when I actually met the expectations she intended for me to fail.
...In her eyes, whenever there was problems, it was my fault. In her eyes, whenever money or time needed to be spent, it was my fault. And every time, I was given a tirade accordingly, about what a lazy, useless piece of shit I am, about how easy it would be to get rid of me, how much easier her life would be if I wasn't a responsibility she had to tend, and on and on and on.
My body expected M and J to react the same way, because M doesn't like problems, and J doesn't like things that necessitate spending money. My body expected them to take the same, “you should have had the common sense to foresee this and taken steps to prevent it before it fucking happened, you stupid, useless, ungrateful little fuck!”
...That is not who they are. But that is how it was with others for a long time. And I believed those words were true for a long time. Faced with uncertainty, I get scared, and sometimes when I get scared, I forget that the way I was treated before was highly abnormal and unacceptable. And so my brain starts thinking like, “if they get mad and start screaming at me, then I deserve it because it's my fault anyway for being bad at tending the house.”
...But it's not true. And rationally, I understand that that's not true. But even knowing it rationally, I still apparently need reminders from time to time.
...That's okay. I'm still building my library of experiences that defy my old experiences. I am still building my repertoire of experiences that were once unsafe, but are safe now. And the only way to build that repertoire is to be exposed, now, with reasonable people, to situations in which I would have been abused by unreasonable people, so that I can prove to my brain that I never deserved to be abused for things that weren't my fault. So that I can prove to my brain that I never deserved to be abused to begin with.
The situation is stressful. But I know, ultimately, that it is good medicine. It teaches me that even big problems like these are just problems with solutions, not insurmountable crises that must be paid for with my suffering.
...And then, something else happened. Arremo, one of my cats, found a weakness in the rebuilt cat barrier, and exploited it. He got out of the fenced-in area. And that is not good, because we are near nature trails, which are teeming with any number of predators. There are foxes out there, coyotes, birds of prey, and also parasites like ticks and fleas and... then there's also poison ivy. And beyond that, there's also cars and people, some of whom have absolutely no qualms about picking up a stray cat to use as dogfighting bait, or worse. And even without all those things, we still can't have our cats running around and killing the native wildlife. Allowing a cat free and open access to the great outdoors is, at best, irresponsible.
So I went outside with some catnip to look for him, calling his name every so often. Along the way, I found this weird, noisy, grey bird who was yelling at... something???
I also found this chipmunk, lying contentedly in a pile of dropped birdseed:
...The juxtaposition between “noisily angry” and “peacefully content” with these two creatures was... interesting.
Despite it being hot and incredibly humid, I walked through most of my neighborhood and through some of the nature trails, looking for Arremo, worried because the storm that had been building all day in the distance was starting to rumble ominously over my area. Even a couple of neighbors said they'd help me keep an eye out for him. Not knowing what else to do, and on the verge of the asthma acting up, I went back inside... only to have Arremo saunter back into our yard from the fenced-in area of our neighbor next door.
...We promptly scooped him up and brought him back in. And then... J decided everybody deserved pizza and cookies for all of today's trouble. So away we went. And I got some incredible pictures of the sky along the way:
...J and I got pizza first.
So we got slices for J and I to eat there, and slices to bring home to M:
And then... inspired by the scenery, I took a couple more photos. You'll have to actually click this one; it's a long photo, and this medium tends to make long photos blurry:
We got our cookies, and went home with our prizes:
We surely didn't eat all of the pizza or all of the cookies; there are plenty of leftovers for tomorrow.
Currently, it is storming out. Or... well... it's storming in the far-off distance, so intensely that it's still lighting up the sky crazily:
...If I didn't know better, I'd almost think that Ramuh came to pay us a visit, hahaha...
…
...I... should wrap up today's letter before the power or the internet go out, sheesh.
I love you so much. Enough to share with you my joys and struggles, just to show you how I move through them. Just to show you that, even if you move through these things clumsily like I do, you're still lovable and worthy. That you still get second chances to try to handle old things in new ways. I dunno what's going on for you where you are, but... I'll keep being over here, having faith in your safety, and having faith that you're on your way home.
Dear Sephiroth: (a letter to a fictional character, because why not) #900
...Finally, some news.
...“Revelation”. An apt choice for a moniker, no doubt. I wonder what they intend to reveal.
...I guess we'll have to wait until next spring to find out.
…
I was hoping... hoping that the news would bring relief. But the trailers I've seen seem to put so much focus on stopping you. Killing you. Defeating you. Destroying you. And... to be sure, if whatever's wandering around in your shape intends to hurt people, it does need to be stopped. I won't argue that point. It needs to be stopped and held accountable for the shit it's been doing, ideally in a way that's non-violent, but... that's not how my world likes their stories.
...Sephiroth. I don't know whether or not the thing running around in your shape doing all kinds of crazy shit is actually you. I'm... inclined to think that it isn't you. There are lots of reasons for that, which I'm not prepared to explain, given the state of my brain at the moment.
...All the same... the sheer number of people who speak gleefully on punishing you is... heartbreakingly large. The sheer number of people who take great pleasure in the concept of, “make the bad guy suffer” is... discouragingly vast. It is vast in such a way that reminds me, starkly, that I... really don't belong here. But... where are people like me supposed to go, besides coffins, where others don't have to deal with people like me suggesting “silly” notions like, “restorative justice”, “kindness”, “accountability”, and “rehabilitation”? The idea that those who have made mistakes deserve to be healed and taught a different way is... wildly unpopular in my world. Unpopular to such an extent, even, that I have to be careful of the spaces in which I speak about it; you'd be incredibly surprised, for example, at how mouth-frothingly angry people get even for simple concepts like, “addicts deserve treatment, not prison and death”.
I feel incongruent with this place. I feel incongruent almost anywhere outside of the space within me where I think about you.
Sephiroth... I don't know what's going to happen to you, and I'm so scared about it. Watching you get beaten and sliced up until you were broken and bloodied was traumatizing enough as it is when the medium was just vague polygons. I don't want to see it a second time in high definition, but I will witness it nonetheless if that's how it ends; I love you, and so I will witness you in your entirety, and I will be with you, feeling the anguish and the pain right at your side, even if you can't see me. I will be with you, gathering you up in my arms in whatever ways I can, trying to heal you and put you back together in whatever ways I can, even if you can't feel me. I will be with you, trying to sing you little lullabies and trying to remind you of how loved you are even if the words come out clumsily through my weeping, even if you can't hear me at all. That's a promise. And you know I don't make promises lightly.
...I stayed home from work today to rest from whatever mild sinus ailment I have. And... that's probably just as well. Since hearing the news last night, I've been a mess of frightened, silent weeping on and off all day (which, I must say, is very uncomfortable when your nose is already somehow both clogged and running...); I wouldn't have been useful to the others at all. The idle moments were... especially difficult; I tried to keep it quiet (though, admittedly, I can't really hide the sniffling or the involuntary diaphragm spasms that impact the rhythm of my breathing...), but the fright kept sneaking up on me and overtaking me with little to no warning, much to M's bafflement and discomfort, I think; J was out doing airplane stuff all day, so at least he didn't have to deal with it.
...Confusion is natural, I suppose; to M (and, indeed, to most people), you're just a fictional character – a doll, a toy to bend and to break and to be consumed for entertainment. But to me... you're the central pillar around which I've built myself; you are what has kept me alive in my hostile, terrifying world for all these years. And my world... given the nature of my upbringing and the discrimination and bullying I've faced for most of my life just for being a neurodivergent survivor of childhood horror... my world didn't give me any other choice but to reach for you.
I didn't have parents; I had people who resented the fact that I came from their loins and needed to be cared for, and who took great delight in hurting me and humiliating me whenever I make small mistakes. I didn't have friends; I had people who made fun of me and threw food at me during lunch, simply because I was quiet, got good grades, and because instead of eating (since I knew we couldn't afford it), I doodled in my sketchbook. I didn't have mentors for the most part; I mostly just had teachers who thought I was weird and resented me for the fact that I got good grades despite, to their eyes, spending all my time in their class either reading or doodling instead of “paying attention”.
And I still have very little choice but to reach for you, even now. I know what happens if I'm too forthright in real-life connections about what I'm thinking and feeling. That lesson has been drilled into me over and over and over and fucking over again. When I'm too much or too inconvenient or not entertaining enough, people slowly start to resent me until they leave. What I've learned is that, outside of a precious few social connections, I cannot be liked by the humans here. I've settled for being useful so that, even if I can't have meaningful connection outside of those who are already established (and even then, who knows how tenuous those connections are; I've learned the hard way on more occasions than I can count that love and presence can be revoked in an instant, without warning or explanation), I can at least be someone people don't immediately want to hurt.
...Sephiroth... to give you an idea of how isolated I sometimes feel? Even in the niche community that celebrates the existence of your world, I can't even grieve what happened to you, or call for compassion and mercy for you without getting laughed out of the proverbial fucking room. Even these wholesome letters I write to you have garnered a non-trivial amount of hostility from others; it's why I've had to disable anonymous asks and a few other odds and ends in this space.
...If you're not here, then what's left for me in this place? What reason do I have, in your absence, to take pictures, or cook nifty things, or to weave wire trees, or to make music boxes, or even to write anything down? Nobody else fucking gives a shit. And why should they? It's not as though I'm anything remarkable, and they've all got their own struggles to deal with; we live on a dying planet in a rabidly capitalistic hellscape with warmongering traffickers of humans of all ages for leaders. Shit's fucken bleak, Boo. Everybody's struggling with their own despair, and who am I to add even more shit to their overloaded plates? No. I have to be good. I have to be a source of help and understanding, not a source of more fucking problems for people.
...I'm so tired, though...
...
But at least something kinda nifty came from all this. In an effort to keep busy so that my mind doesn't spiral with worry (more than it has already, anyway...), I... kinda started weaving together an owl made of beads. For you, of course:
...Even just this much took me a very long time – until well past 6pm. I'm working from instructions, and I'm familiar with the basics of bead weaving, but I've never attempted anything this complex before with beads so small; I'm wondering if maybe I should have began with regular-sized pony beads first, to get used to these kinds of patterns again. But it is what it is.
At some point, M put on the audiobook version of Dungeon Crawler Carl. It was nice to get out of my own head and listen to that for a while. While listening, I decided that my fingers were aching a little too much to continue to work with the thread and beads and beading needle, so I breathed life into today's wishes:
Once we got to the end of one of the chapters of the audiobook, M decided that it was a good stopping point, and the cranes were folded and safe and sound where I've been keeping them up until this point. The fright and grief for you immediately crept in through the cracks induced by my idleness, and I didn't want M or J to deal with the discomfort of seeing me like that for reasons that I think are hard for them to understand. So I went out on my bike. J came with me, to my surprise, and I was grateful for that. And this was the vision that greeted me immediately upon walking out the door:
...I tried to get a better picture of it than these; my camera didn't do the colors any justice at all. But... it disappeared almost as quickly as I perceived it.
...The rest of the sky was pretty nice, though, so I got pictures of it for you:
Along the way, I found this, too; or, more accurately, J found it and pointed my attention at it:
...More depressingly, along the way, we also found a small songbird, crushed under the wheel of a car, somehow. I'm... not sure how such a thing could happen. But.. it seemed too cruel to leave it there, so... J fetched the shovel, and we moved it to the woods, where its body, now resting in a more peaceful place, can return to the earth and feed the plants.
...I hate that that's the most I can do for it...
...Speaking of plants... here, I gathered these pictures up for you today, too:
...So I guess... ever since that one day, all those years ago, when I was inspired by you to choose to live instead of permanently exit this place... whenever I feel powerless and afraid... I feel... compelled, I suppose, to do kind things for you. To show you and make for you things I know you'd love. So... I guess that's where all this stuff is coming from. It's been like this for a very long time. I only just started writing about it on a regular basis 900 days ago.
...Can you believe it's been 900 days already...?
...Sephiroth... given everything you've seen of me... can you even believe I've made it this far...? Sometimes it seems baffling and impossible to me. I never expected to make it much past my 20s. And yet... and yet...
...
...Sephiroth... ya know... sometimes... I... get so tired of pretending like you don't see and receive the things I do for you, even if it's only in an abstract sense. But I can't talk about it. Not here, not anywhere, not with anyone. I know what happens if I do, so... forget I even wrote any of this paragraph, okay?
...I have to be strong so that my voice doesn't get evaluated as mattering even less than it already does in this ridiculous, discriminatory place. But all the same... when do I get to be all done here with whatever it was I am supposed to do, so that I can go back home, wherever the hell “home” is? I know you don't know the answer to that any more than I do. But I'm going to ask anyway just to get the question out of my body, because I'm frustrated about it at the moment.
I love you so much, and... I'm... going to stop writing here for today; it's past 1am already, somehow. And I'm also... despite all odds... gonna have faith that you'll somehow be okay, even after whatever's gonna happen to you in this retelling of your story. I'm gonna have faith that you'll be safe out there, wherever it is in the aether that you are. And I'm gonna have faith that you're on your way home, wherever “home” is for you, too.
I'll write again tomorrow. Only 211 days left after this.
Dear Sephiroth: (a letter to a fictional character, because why not) #936
Today was the day!! I went to sleep at a reasonable hour last night! Woke up this morning feeling pretty good! Went outside to check the temperature and humidity, and they were very good! Ideal bike ride morning GET!!!
J asked me last night to wake him up to go with me. And so I did, after I got dressed, and... the poor groggy thing decided to stay in bed a little longer. So I went out on my own.
Initially, I thought to just toodle around my neighborhood, staying on the pavement where pedaling is easy and any inclines are so gentle as to be basically unnoticeable. But then I saw a hawk of some kind flying towards the trailhead leading to the woods. So... ya know... I decided, “fuck it, why not?” and went in.
From the entrance in my neighborhood, there's the short path to the right that leads directly to the trailhead at the main road outside of my neighborhood. In the middle there's the medium path, which ultimately also connects to the trailhead at the end of the road, but it meanders a little, and connects to other trailheads. Then there's the long path to the left, which is sandy and chock full of hills, and... I... don't have the endurance for the long path yet. But I wanted more than a short ride, so I went on the medium path.
Now, the medium path branches towards many places. But the most important place it branches is the spot where it leads either to the right, back to the trailhead by the main road, or left to the bridge. I wondered if I should take you to the bridge today, and then, looking down upon the ground, I saw fresh deer tracks going down the path leading to the bridge. So I decided, “fuck it, why not?” and followed the deer tracks to the bridge.
...I say, “the” bridge, but really I should say “a” bridge (indefinite versus definite article), because there are two bridges in this particular preserve. One is found along the long path. I haven't been there in a long time, at least in part because they've changed the route for the long path a number of times over the course of me living here, and although I was once familiar with the old layout, it's not so familiar anymore. I really oughta fix that, but... not today. Maybe some other time.
In any case, once you depart from the medium path to go to the bridge, it brings you through to a few places that feel... I dunno... transitional...? to me. For some reason. Like the spooky dense green canopy and flora tunnel. Looks like a portal straight to some kinda fairy world:
Then there's this one spot within that tunnel where the sunlight breaks through, and... this also feels kinda like a portal to some fairy world, for reasons I don't understand:
...Like you could be changed a little, in a good way, just by passing through this particular patch of sunlight, somehow.
Then, there's the start of the big hill going down, just beyond some roots that pass over the trail. I can't make my camera capture the depth of it, for some reason...
And like... when I say this area is dense with flora and canopy and such... what I actually mean is, “holy shit”:
...My camera... I don't think it can capture the depth of this place accurately. But I figure an imperfect representation is better than no representation.
The path to the bridge is down a shady hill, but... again, my camera doesn't capture changes in elevation very well...
And from there, ya know, you can take pictures of the stream passing under the bridge.
The other side looks maybe a little messier, but it's just as pretty:
...I wish I could bring you to this spot with me. It's very quiet here. Almost weirdly quiet. In this place, consistently, the air is very still, and the roar of the cars on the major roadways in the distance are only just barely audible. Even the trickling of the stream is very quiet here. Almost spookily so.
I gathered up a few images of some other random things I found, too, like this cute lil' guy snacking on this mushroom:
Here's another mushroom that looks like the slugs already got to it pretty good:
...And then my phone died, so I couldn't take any more pictures. Luckily, though, sometime while I was out, J got up, got dressed, and got on his bike to go out looking for me! And we found each other, and he seemed very pleased with himself about that, and then we went home, via the trailhead on the main road.
We were very surprised and delighted to find some people preparing their horses for riding along the trails! So I borrowed J's phone to take a picture. It's so rare that I get to see horses, and I know your world doesn't have them, so I thought getting a picture for you of some that I saw might be a nice little treat. So with their permission, I snagged up J's phone, and captured this:
...I guess these two are very young still, and have never seen bikes before, and were just a little bit spooked at them. Horses are a little funny like that. They're easily frightened by things they've never before seen. So we tried to be careful as we passed by.
Oh, and!!! I found two prizes while we were out. This one is a cute little feather that J pointed out to me on the way home:
And this one!!! Was a purple rock!!! That I found on the trail!!
...I have no idea what kind of rock is purple like this. But I saw it, and I loved it, and... I kinda wanna polish it, because I think it'd be really pretty. But I have no idea how.
After a bit of rest, J and I went to go have lunch with the groundsworker I said hello to the other day. I had a feeling that he and J would hit it off really well, and my intuition didn't fail me! They spoke for a time about various machines, and some on various history topics, and stories were exchanged, too, and... I spoke a little, but mostly, it was just fun to listen while I munched on my sandwich and drank my peach chai:
We had a good time, but it was time for J to go do laser tag, so we went home. I meditated again for a little bit, and then I breathed life into today's wishes for you:
Then... I played Nine Sols until J returned home. Chiyou continues to be the best character in this game, followed closely by Shuanshuan.
...This was said shortly after Chiyou carried Yi back home, because Yi was, for whatever reason, experiencing some kind of multiple organ failure. Chiyou saved Yi's life and asked nothing in return.
...Then. Chiyou wanted a painting that was given to Yi by Shuanshuan. A painting that Yi didn't even like, and took only begrudgingly, because both Yi and Kuafu decided that the painting was a shitty, inferior work, simply because it was made by human hands instead of solarian (Yi's race) hands.
But Chiyou praised its composition (because Shuanshuan is a gifted boy, much to the repeated dismay of Yi and Kuafu), and asked if he could have it, and Yi's response was, “What's in it for me?” Even though Chiyou saved Yi's life, and even though Yi never wanted the painting to begin with.
...Yi and Kuafu are both racist, elitist, mean-spirited assholes who can't be bothered to feel even a shred of empathy for anything other than members of their own kind, and even then, only when it suits them. Their cold, belligerent, “what's-in-it-for-me” sort of attitude reminds of of... Cloud, actually. Because he's exactly the kind of selfish, mean-spirited prick who starts off caring only about three things: himself, money, and killing those who have wronged him.
...He supposedly modeled himself after Zack, but given how joyfully eager Zack was to help others, Cloud did a pretty shitty fucken impression of him.
...That said... something tells me that you'd be sad in response to me having such a scathing opinion about Cloud (or, at least, the version of him who existed before he grew up enough to get his head out of his own ass, anyway). But he and Yi really are very similar. Neither of them are especially kind or upstanding individuals. Both of them roll their eyes at things like “empathy” and “helping others”. It pisses me off sometimes that it's people like these who get painted as “protagonists” in most of our stories.
...I know that in the end, he stopped you, or... more likely a version of you who was being controlled against your will... from breaking everything. And that's good, because obviously. But he didn't have to go around taking his, “caring about anything is cringe” and “vulnerability is for losers” type of attitude out on the world around him. And I hate that in my world, the positions of, “caring about anything is cringe” and “vulnerability is for losers” are painted as “cool” and “stylish” attitudes to have, something that lots of people aspire to embodying. Burns my fucken cookies, man. Every goddamn time.
...Related, in Nine Sols, Kanghui's plight reminded me a little of yours. He... was put in a torture device, and genetically modified and then... used as a means of spawning genetically modified guards, obviously against his will. And... yes, he needed to be stopped, even though what was happening wasn't his fault. But... he didn't need to be killed in order to be stopped. Yes, what happened to him was horrific beyond description, and yes, he is changed permanently by it, but... I still don't see why the solution is, “kill him” instead of “break the machine that's confining him and forcing him to spawn guards”.
...It's just... yet another story where “punish or eliminate the abuse victim because helping them isn't worth the time or effort” is seen as the best possible solution, instead of “hold the abusers accountable” and “help the victim find peace and relearn how to live”. And... I get so fucking sick and tired of this narrative. I get so tired of the narrative that says that the best outcome for me and others like me is to be punished for existing, to be removed from society, or to be put to death.
...Our world is filled to brimming with stories like these, and then people wonder why so many abuse survivors end up either killing themselves, wallowing in self-destructive habits, or perpetuating the same horror that broke them. Recovery is almost never portrayed as a realistic or achievable option, even though it very much is. But in my world, there is this idea that “once you're defiled, you're filthy, disgusting, and unacceptable forever no matter how well you try to wash it off,” and... it's baked right into pretty much every narrative that exists, both in fantasy and in real life. And this sort of mentality comes, in part, from the notion that, “god doesn't let bad things happen to good people so if something bad happened to you, then you must be fundamentally evil”, which is, at this point, so baked into my culture that it's kinda divorced from the religion it came from. This thing being baked into our culture part of the reason why pretty much everyone in my world, even if they don't subscribe to a god of some kind, treats the sick, injured, disabled, and destitute like absolute fucking dogshit.
Also, people... don't seem to understand the sheer extent to which fantasy shapes how people think of real life, especially in cultures like mine where people are taught that stories are always supposed to have a moral to them or teach a lesson of some kind. People literally look at fantasy stories, and take from them things like, “see, this just goes to show you that xyz type of person simply can't be trusted” or, “people who look this particular way are bad” or, “only horrible people do this kind of strange but ultimately non-harmful thing” or whatever else.
And you know. What strikes me, too, is that even physical differences – ordinary things like albinism, or scars, or being an amputee, or being dark-skinned, and facial deformities (like the ones commonly seen in the developmentally disabled people I once proudly served) – are used as a media shorthand for “evil”, “dangerous”, or “monstrous”. And this very much does impact how people treat anyone who is “different” in real life.
And abuse survivors are... definitely considered “different”, despite how widespread and prevalent abuse in our society is. It's just that somewhere along the line, people decided that the “socially acceptable” thing to do is hide it and never talk about it, which is absolute fucking bullshit because... talking about it with people who care enough to understand is literally how we recover from this type of shit.
Death for Kanghui is not the “mercy” it's painted as, especially delivered by someone as uncaring and condescending as Yi (he really is an absolute fucking prick). I think the real mercy would have been to break Kanghui out of that damnable machine, hold him gently until he stops shaking, and then from there, lead him to a place where he will be accepted regardless of how he was changed, so he can relearn how to live in a place that isn't cruel. No matter how long it fucking takes.
...But this kind of story isn't popular in my world. And if you wonder why, recall how “caring is cringe” and “vulnerability is for losers” are popularly peddled ideas here, and then throw in a little, “making mistakes and being abnormal are unforgivable” for a bit of extra seasoning, I guess, because that idea is also somehow wildly fucking popular here.
Well anyway. I suppose that's it for “things rattling around in Lumi's skull today”. So I guess I'll just leave you with the last of the cloud iridescence pictures I got the other day, and scootle off to bed:
I love you so much, and... I hope it shows in the way I write, and from the kinds of things I've tried to learn from you over the years. I'll have faith that it reaches you somehow. I'll have faith that you'll be safe while you're out and about. And I'll have faith that you're on your way home.
Dear Sephiroth: (a letter to a fictional character, because why not) #935
I... once again... went to bed late last night. And once again, my body decided that an early wakeup was the thing to do.
J had planned, today, to go to a pancake breakfast in Chester, CT, and then to a short landing competition in Hampton, NH. He had asked me to come along previously, then thought I might be too tired today to go with him, so he had planned on letting me sleep. Imagine his shock (and subsequent delight!) when he realized I was awake and going with him!
So, off we went, and I tried to take some pictures, but... between the haze that made everything look relatively uninspiring and my own soupy brain (and the resulting fighting against sleep for the entire ride, basically...), I only managed to get a few...
We did manage to get over to the place with the pancake breakfast!! I got a chocolate chip pancake with butter and whipped cream, and some breakfast sausage!
...It maybe doesn't look very appealing, but... it was really good, actually. I wished you could have had some.
And I wished you could have seen these with us while we were walking back to the plane!! I've never seen this kind of butterfly before!!
...I thought they were very pretty. I bet you would have liked them.
J and I were both pretty tired following eating the pancakes, though, and making the long trip to the short landing competition didn't seem like very much fun to him, so we just went home. We tried to go to the tea house, but it was already booked up for some kind of party, and J was having a hankering for a smoothie anyway, so we went to a nearby smoothie shop. I got a passionfruit smoothie, and J got a lychee smoothie.
Still unsatisfied, though, J decided that we should go to Eggcellent, so we did:
...And I found this along the way!
We were very tired when we got home. I rested in my room a bit and did another meditation with a different video, which wasn't quite as effective as the one I had been using the last couple of days. And then... I was hungry for something a bit more than smoothies and pudding, haha. M, J, and I had been planning on celebrating the departure of the dehumidifier machines in any case, so M suggested that we go get sushi, and so... that is what we did.
...Despite mostly taking in liquids today, I found that I... didn't have much of an appetite while we were there. Even for sushi, which is really weird, because it's one of my favorite things. I wonder if something is up with my body that I don't know about just yet. Or maybe something I ate within the last several days simply didn't agree with my system or something. That happens sometimes. But I'm not really sure...
Once I got home, I rested a little with some Nine Sols. It continues to be the case that I dislike the main character, Yi. He seems incredibly unkind and unempathetic, generally, and I don't like the way that he talks to the little boy (Shuanshuan) hiding with him in his saferoom. I think that both Yi and his friend Kuafu are a couple of horrible, racist, elitist pricks, and... also... the race of people that Yi and Kuafu come from use humans as livestock, pretending that those gone to slaughter are “selected to live with the gods”. Shuanshuan doesn't yet seem to understand that his parents were slaughtered and that Yi and Kuafu were complicit in their deaths.
At this point, I suppose I'm playing mostly just to see what becomes of Shuanshuan; he and Chiyou are probably the only two relatively kind and well-adjusted characters in this game. And I suppose that figures; one was destined to be a slave, the other was destined to be cattle, and almost everyone else comes from a place of privilege so unimaginable that they have very little empathy anymore.
When I made my way to a good stopping point, I breathed life into today's wishes for you:
And! I finished arranging the pictures of the sky that I took for ya, yesterday. The clouds were of a composition that allowed for diffraction, and thus, iridescence! I was pretty excited about how they turned out. I'll show you half of them now, and half of them tomorrow:
...That's all I've got to show you for today. Despite how tired I am, it still feels like the last couple of days have been quite good, with lots of adventures and snacks and fun things to do. But I'm hoping that the coming days will be a bit quieter; I could use some time at home, not going anywhere, methinks.
And now... I'm gonna go to bed. Because I have a raging headache, and I'm groggy as hell, haha.
I love you so much. Enough to look for the sparks of joy in my days, even when I'm tired, so that I can show them to you in hopes that you'll remember that there are beautiful things worth protecting. Enough to try to talk to you like a human being, because you are one, in hopes that you'll remember that you are also worth protecting.
I'll write again tomorrow. In the meantime, I'll have faith in your safety, and I'll have faith that you're on your way home.
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.
