invisible (man) (disability) (pain) (child)
by ???
Tuesday January 30, 2024 10:53
Kiki's Delivery Service
CW self hatred
I am the idiot with the painted face
In the corner, taking up space
-- Mitski, Me and My Husband
I hate when people ask me how I'm doing because I'm never sure how honest to be. Yesterday, I opted for "how am I? Um, haha, LOL," which received "so true bestie" and "mood" in resonse.
When we lived together, Mouse quickly clocked that me saying "LOL" is one of the indicators that I'm in a trauma echo. I didn't even notice, but I would say "LOL" out loud to my own thoughts. But that was enough for them to get a sense of what just transpired internally without me elaborating further.
To be seen is to be known is to be loved.
It's a Mitski listening day. That's not the warning sign, though. Speed to my house in the middle of the night is Halsey. I doubt anyone is keeping track, but just in case. Mitski and Lana are a certain mindspace where... I guess it's when I feel so distant from everyone and I just ache to be loved, but it's my fault that I'm distanced. Listening to Mitski might be the more cynical side to that, whereas choosing Lana I'm more hopeful. I am just. So scared of everyone. I don't trust anyone. It's my responsibility to give people the opportunity to show me they're trustworthy, it's my responsibility to take leaps with others. But I've already had a lifetime's worth of disappointment by the time I was 17, or at least, I'm not sure if I can tolerate more disappointment for the rest of my life.
It's just that I fell in love with a war
And nobody told me it ended
-- Mitski, A Pearl
I find myself around people more and more lately. I find myself hating myself only when I'm around people. I think I am seen and misunderstood and I think being loved for someone I'm not is a hateful thing, but it's tolerable if that means I am not hated for the person I truly am. And yet, I think pieces of my true self leak through. And I feel disgusting for it.
I want to withdraw from everyone. I don't want to hang out with friends again. I don't want to be asked to talk about myself or what's happening in my life. I know I have to think it's out of care, but I find myself unable to feel it.
When I'm bent over wishin' it was over
Makin' all variety of vows I'll never keep
I try to remember the wrath of the devil
Was also given him by God
-- Mitski, Bug Like an Angel
I find myself wanting to reject and run from everything except my partner and personal, ugly, messy, vent art. I imagine myself the lone artist in an isolated cottage. Maybe off-grid, or semi off-grid, spending my days between tending to a large vegetable garden and making art in a messy room and making soups and breads. I imagine myself the disillusioned writer, locked in their house until they can finally get something out, and they can't and they can't until they finally do, and the cycle repeats in a torturous way.
I imagine myself the stay at home mom and housewife who lives for her family, does nothing if not for or with her family. She quit her job to take care of her husband and children. She wakes up hours before them to make them breakfast and lunch. She washes and folds all their clothes. She cleans the house and does errands in the mornings and sits around in the afternoons waiting for her family to get home. And then they give her a little bit of time, but don't really take time for her. They forget her birthday and she never gets presents at Christmas.
I also imagine myself the witch in fairytales people have to go on a trek to find in order to receive her wisdom and expertise. I imagine myself the old drunkard the village people leave alone but watch to make sure he won't hurt himself, and pick up and walk him home when he's passed out on the sidewalk. I imagine myself the lady who can't leave her house, whose kids have to run errands for her when they're old enough because they've seen the panic attacks. These are the characters and people I've attached to and seen myself and my future in since I was little. I don't know what that means.
I don't need the world to see
That I've been the best I can be, but
I don't think I could stand to be
Where you don't see me
-- Mitski, Francis Forever
People keep asking me what I do. I know it's a common question people use to get to know people, but it makes me feel like shit. I'm not working, I haven't been able to work in a while. I rely on my mom for money. And I know I'm privileged to be able to get that. But the amount of shame I feel for that. The amount of guilt, because she only tells me about her money struggles. I'm the only one she tells and the only one she asks for help when she can't afford something. I've been to the doctor a few times in the last 8 years. I don't know what my constant level 4-9 pain is from. I don't know why I'm so fatigued I can't even tolerate walking around the house most days. I can't afford the procedure the vet says my cat needs, and I ask her for that for Christmas instead of gifts and she spends that amount on my sister. She buys my sister expensive clothes and lets me struggle to feed myself. I don't tell anyone about this because I am lucky she can pay my rent and my bills and everything while I don't work. I was the golden child when I was about to go to Ivy League, but since I dropped out for my health, after she said "I have to mourn this as if a child died" to my face when I know I would have died if I stayed, she's been very disparate and obvious in her favoritism for my younger sister preparing for med school instead. My sister calls and texts me asking how I dealt with the pressure.
I attached to a person on tiktok who made "NEET diary" posts for that particular shame, but they got a job. I can't relate to the common experiences of working in a job you hate because you need to. I just wish I could work. I was disabled at 16. My first real job was at 23. I had an actual good job last year, one people kept saying sounded fun, but it started to feel like no one took me seriously, not even my administration. I'm too burned out to do much. No. Let me say it for what it is because people don't seem to understand. My stress-induced neurocognitive decline and chronic fatigue and chronic pain this time was so bad I couldn't take care of myself and my dishes rotted in my sink because I pushed myself past my limits every day just to eat one meal, and then could not do anything else.
I want nothing more than to work. I'm too scared to try again. I don't want to disable myself even further.
I cry at the start of every movie
I guess 'cause I wish I was making things, too
But I'm working for the knife
I used to think I would tell stories
But nobody cared for the stories I had about
No good guys
I always knew the world moves on
I just didn't know it would go without me
I start the day high and it ends so low
'Cause I'm working for the knife
I used to think I'd be done by twenty
Now at twenty-nine, the road ahead appears the same
Though maybe at thirty, I'll see a way to change
That I'm living for the knife
I always thought the choice was mine
And I was right, but I just chose wrong
I start the day lying and end with the truth
That I'm dying for the knife
-- Mitski, Working for the Knife
I'm tired of hearing my roommate laugh in the living space with their partner. They visit frequently. They like me, and want to spend time with me. But I want to cry alone and undisturbed with my door closed. But my cat won't let me keep doors closed and will scratch the door and scream until I open it. And I would like to leave as little damage as possible so I can get my security deposit back. I lived off my last one for a bit because my mom could not afford to help me. I heard she and my sister bought concert tickets. She asked me for money for an emergency car repair. She was too ashamed to ask anyone else.
Trust in your spirit! That same spirit is what makes me paint, and makes your friend bake… But we each need to find our own inspiration.
-- Ursula, Kiki's Delivery Service
Nevermind, it's a Halsey listening day.