#wordspew

[a-people-eater]

Look I get that these emotional/sad comics are relatable to some people and make them feel better but I can't lie they do straight up just make me suicidal

[a-people-eater]

Trying to describe your fantasy OC's genitalia to your friends should be used as a punishment for war criminals

[a-people-eater]

I've always found it weird when people get mad about people en masse using words that are/were considered dog whistles, with the meaning changed out for a completely different thing. Like... You know the more people who misuse a dog whistle, the less effective it is for the groups that made it right? Because a dog whistle is subtle communication that is meant to go unnoticed? And if more people use it then it's harder for them to communicate with each other because they're unaware of who is using it in what way? Like yes queen! Give the neo nazis back their dog whistle! Make sure you give them back their ability to communicate with each other unnoticed! Let them congregate!

[a-people-eater]

Y'all ever get a nostalgia hit so hard you low-key want to kill yourself

[a-people-eater]

I need to draw some freaky pervert shit tbh

[a-people-eater]

Why did Larian make Gortash so thin. Usually I don't care but ts pmo put some fat on that man

[a-people-eater]

Bethesda should add a "hide UI" option to oblivion remastered. And they should also add fucknasty sex with Lucien LaChance but that can wait

[booksaresacredspew]

I find I need to talk about strokes (and other brain trauma), and how they change people, and how we react to those changes.

My mother had a stroke when I was 5 or 6 years old. It happened during a bunch of other medical stuff I won't go into here, but it was probably a pretty foundational experience for me. Physically, it partially paralyzed a lot of the muscles on one side of her face, so immediately afterward she looked a lot different.

So, when she got home, what I apparently said to her is, "You're not my mommy!"

I don't remember this. But she does. She's the one who told me about it. And I keep thinking how awful that must have felt to her.

Anyway I don't really remember much what she was like before her stroke. I grew up knowing that she had trouble swallowing, and had short term memory loss so it was important not to interrupt her or she's forget what she was going to say. Her voice sounds pretty hoarse because they had to shift one side of her vocal chords closer to the other side so she'd have a voice at all, because that side was paralyzed. I learned to listen closely so I could hear when she was speaking it trying to speak, because she's quiet and needs to say her piece before it gets knocked right out of her head. This is my normal.

And I was 16 when my dad had a stroke. This time the effects were more obvious to me because I have clear memories of the before as well as the after. Physically, it affected his balance, and his vision. He's less coordinated and dexterous in his dominant hand. But it affected him mentally as well, and these effects were harder for me to cope with.

His ability to find the words he wants to use, and his ability to enunciate, were reduced. But more than that, his emotional capacity seemed to regress to a more child like state. He'd have tantrums, after. If he got frustrated, he might start shouting and throwing things - never at people, but it was still alarming and upsetting to witness. He's gotten better about that, since. He also whines loudly when he doesn't get his way, and sometimes it's a joke but sometimes it's not really. There are probably more things I can't articulate it haven't noticed consciously, but which still affect how I relate to him.

Growing up, I was always closer to my dad. This is because, in spite of the issues I mentioned earlier, my mom was the one gainfully employed for most of my childhood, while my dad got laid off when I was 6 or 7 and never got another job. So he was my chauffeur, driving me to and from school, to every extra curricular, and we'd talk in the car about everything and everything.

Recently I've been lamenting that I don't know how to talk to my dad anymore. I don't know how to tell him about my problems and get advice that will help, I don't know how to tell him when what he's saying is triggering my depression, I don't know how to relate to him anymore.

Today I wondered when that started, when I stopped being able to talk to someone who used to be my rock. And I realized, to my shame, that it might have been when he had his stroke. He lost things that day he will never get back. I lost things in my father that I didn't realize I needed. And it's not his fault, and he is still the person who raised me and loved me and taught me so much. I feel guilty for not trying harder, for not learning new ways to communicate with him. And I also grieve for the person he was, who he will never be in quite the same way again.