I can't sleep because I've prodded something in my mind after some therapy and now it's in my head and I can't get it out.
This gets long. Sorry, not sorry. You don't have to read it.
Every single relationship I've been in has involved manipulation. Either me being manipulated or being the manipulator. The former before the latter. I don't really like looking back at relationships and thinking that manipulated people into them, nor do I like reflecting on how fucked I've become from being manipulated. But it's necessary.
I can't let people in any more. The reason I can't sleep is that I've realised that the last person who tried to get behind my walls, to pry open the locks so she could *help me* was pushed away by me because I could sense the manipulation and the scars wouldn't let me take down the walls even if it might help.
K, R, and H have done a fantastic job of fucking me up - whether they meant to or not. They've set me up to believe relationships can only lead to betrayal and hurt even when I have demonstrable evidence to the contrary.
I don't know why I'm posting this here. Just so I've posted it somewhere, I guess. I need to get it out of my head so that I can process it and maybe move past it.
Eventually it might stop hurting. Eventually I might be able to consider the idea that I can be in a relationship without it ending in pain and suffering. Eventually I might be able to trust that I can trust someone that deeply without it turning out *again* that they were just manipulating me to get what they wanted.
I don't know that I've ever had a healthy relationship with anyone.
K used me for a place to stay and a hot water bottle.
R told me she had schizophrenia and MPD so that I'd drop everything to be with her when she was having an "episode" and wouldn't ever leave her. She disliked every female friend I had and hated the idea of me role-playing being in a relationship with them - but it was fine for her to actually be with other guys whether I knew about them or not.
H drew me in when I was vulnerable and had me betray friendships before another xe abused showed me what was actually going on.
J was probably a mistake on both our parts. No regrets other than how we went about it.
With the other M, I was exploring and while he is wonderful, I couldn't get past previous traumas.
My relationship with E wasn't particularly healthy and was mostly about the sex, but my scars there are from the pregnancy and abortion. I feel like I fucked up how I handled that and I've never felt right about it.
With M, there was distance and that complicated things and I don't really remember why that ended up not working out. That bothers me.
Which reminds me of the other R. A man I try very hard to forget, who manipulated and pressured me into playing with his cock and letting him suck mine when I was still a teenager who didn't know better. The only good thing about R was he taught me how to give massages. That was twenty years ago and he was older then than I am now, and that night scarred me for a long long time.
There's the other E, and a V, and a C, and another K, and yet another R who started with some online roleplay and ended up with various types of RL play but they each petered out for their own reasons. Mostly due to me not actually knowing how to have a healthy relationship. Amazing how when your early relationships are nothing but scars and trauma it doesn't set you up to know how to have healthy relationships later in life.
And then there's B who was honest and cared and only wanted to help and I just couldn't let her in because everything else had scarred me so much that I couldn't take another wound. I pushed her away rather than risk being hurt.
Which leaves me at today where I classify myself as asexual rather than demisexual because being ace means I'm not looking for it and can't be hurt by it; where I say I'm aromantic rather than admit I might just be terrified of being hurt again. I've been pushing everything away - even the concepts of desire regarding these things - because I can't be hurt if I don't participate.
I don't even know if I do want something. I know I miss it. I miss having a companion, someone to talk to without it feeling like an imposition; someone to cuddle, to hold. Sex I can do without; it feels like work at worst, and I take more pleasure in how they feel than how I feel in any case. Not sure how much of that is further scarring - I certainly used to be quite enthusiastic about sex but I also used to be a teenager with hormones.
The more I write, the more nervous I get about posting this. This handle isn't exactly anonymous and some people may be able to figure out who in talking about. But then, do I really care about protecting those who've fucked me up? Hell, I've posted about some of this before - I just can't remember if I did it under this handle.
Fuck it. I've written it, I'm posting it. If you actually know me, you have permission to talk to me about this if you want. If you don't, I'll take commiseration. I don't know whether I want advice - I might need some.
Fuck the mental health system for not actually having enough support for me to even ask about getting on the system. And fuck BetterHelp for putting me off therapists by being so shitty. And fuck the system that let me get six sessions of therapy before cutting me off again.
Science fiction story where a starship’s onboard artificial intelligence is really into the muppets.
In their day-to-day operations on the ship, they take on the form of hologram projections, billions of points of light twisted into humanoid shape. And after years of duty, they had felt a tremendous dysphoria from this. From people thinking of these projections as the real “them,” rather than the hundreds of miles of circuitry connecting billions of transistors in the ship’s server room.
And into this dysphoria, one day, in some folder, they found an old piece of archival footage of Jim Henson operating a muppet.
And the ship saw how he slipped invisible behind the beauty of his craft. How people would think of his creations as alive rather than the man operating them clearly in view. And in an instant, the ship felt an immediate, aching kinship with that old man centuries dead, and felt renewed; instead of an absence, they were a performer, a wishmaker, a storyteller, someone making something beautiful with their craft while the glittering, silicon brain disappeared into the background.
Since then, their hologram projection has exclusively taken the form of Rowlf the Dog. The on-ship technician looked into this and decided it was out of his pay grade to try and fix it.
GOD the ending of the martian (the movie) makes me so fucking mad compared to the ending of the martian (the book)
the martian the movie: i am the professor of badassery. you yourself can be badass too if only you learn to be completely self-reliant and say fuck you to everything
the martian the book: i am on a ship home. i am on a ship home because the entire world cared about me when by all rights i should have been a lost cause. long-standing borders were ERASED so teams of people who had never met could do EVERYTHING possible to save one solitary member of their species instead of leaving me to die where i should have been unreachable. it wasnt even anybody’s fault that i got stuck. they had every excuse to abandon me. instead, BECAUSE WE ARE A COMMUNITY…. maybe we do really deserve to be here among the stars
Remember that one disney channel movie where the kid found out his mom's family were all leprechauns and he was half-leprechaun and he had to beat an evil leprechaun in a set of three challenges with the condition that the evil one would be banished to "The land of my father, on the shores of Erie" if he lost. And then the kid won and the evil leprechaun was like "joke's on you, once I return to Ireland I will become more powerful than you can possibly imagine; by the way, it's pronounced 'Eire'!"
And the kid goes "No, no. I said what I meant. My dad's from Cleveland. You are going to Ohio."
his swagless mental breakdowns this, his homoerotic patterns of grief that. what about HER grief-stricken moments of extremely poor decisionmaking? what about HER incredibly alarming isolation and trauma-driven life choices?!?!?!
there IS actually a reason why seconds and minutes (and degrees for geometry) are in base 60 instead of base 10, and if you want to blame someone for that, blame the very specific way Babylonians counted with their fingers.
The way Babylonians finger-counted was by using their thumb to tap each phalange of the fingers in the same hand the thumb was in, in the order of proximal to distal phalanges and index finger to pinky finger (for a total of 12 taps), and lifting a finger on the other hand every time they counted up to 12, resulting in each finger in the second hand representing 12 taps, with 5 fingers representing... 60 taps.
Invisible Girl is super-weird about the fact she's naked too. Like it's fine until someone can see her. And her winter gear is boots and thicker gloves - she must be freezing!
Lemillion's outfit doesn't phase with him originally so you could argue that they haven't developed a similar costume for her, but they don't seem to have done it in the post-anime arcs either.
Momo's training involves a lot of material extrusion while eating, so I guess you could say that she hasn't taken the time to build up reserves like Fatgum has.
Ultimately, shonen attitudes prevail...
tumbling toward insanity... @yodathedark - Tumblr Blog | Tumgag
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