The “friend” struck again. This time they added some unabashed racism and support of the terrorists of January 6. Oh, and they are still pissed about wearing masks and having COVID restrictions.

Happy January 6th everyone!
No really, he just said that.

But maybe he’s just being edgy, you might think. I don’t buy that. I’ve seen him support a literal fucking neo-Nazi. This ain’t a bug, it’s a goddamn feature and it’s so sick that only 3 people (one of his family members, a friend of his, and me) are publicly telling him to sit down and shut the fuck up.

If you see someone saying this kind of crap, how do you not speak up?

What happened January 6th is indefensible, and if you think it was a good thing, you need to examine yourself & think about why you are okay with trying to overthrow a democracy. You’re literally celebrating a seditious conspiracy, bro. That’s fucked up.

This is insane. JK Rowling hasn’t ever said anything against trans people. She’s spoken facts about them. But never leveled any kind of hateful or “phobic” comments.
It doesn’t matter how often you defend her, she ain’t gonna fuck you, bro.

If you think that his racism and support of terror means he’s changed his other views, don’t worry. He’s still a transphobic lout who thinks JK has never said anything transphobic whilst he’s probably in denial that he’s ever said anything transphobic.

So why have I not taken this asshole off my friends list? Honestly I’m wondering that myself. He glared at me at his sister-in-law’s wedding, so I’m guessing that I’m not the only one contemplating ending our association with one another. He’s such an awful person and I hate that he’s the brother-in-law of a person I truly adore. If I still had friendly feelings towards his wife, I’d be sad about them being married to one another, but I genuinely think they are perfect for one another based on things she’s said to me & others.

Post 1: How are you celebrating today?! 😜 Post 2: …so, Jan 6 is going to be compared to 9/11 now? Pearl Harbor? Seriously? 🙄
It’s compared to both because it’s a terror attack and an act of war against this country. You’re just okay with it because the perpetrators are people with your skin color and beliefs.
The riots in the name of “racial equality” were far worse than what happened on January 6.
For the first time since 1814, and for the first time in the 200+ years of our nation's history our own citizens, ransacked our Capitol on January 6 with the intent to (1) stop the results of a popular election from being certified, (2) hang the United States' Vice President, and (3) harm their political enemies. See our 50 states had all conducted elections and had certified the results of those elections, some of them after three recounts. That's actually what states do under the federal system our Constitution establishes. And those felons who stormed the Capitol that day tried to overthrow that Constitutional exercise of state and popular sovereignty—because they just couldn't bear the thought of anyone other than their lame duck Savior being President. So, please, explain by what measure those riots were worse than January 6.
Dollar value? Come on. And, while you're at it, please also explain why all those smashed windows and beaten cops and the images of the Traitors' flag (the stars and bars) being flown in the Union's Capitol amount to an "enhanced tour."
Notice how he never answered.
…more indoctrination by Facebook. I don’t need to care about this at all. Unlike some of the stuff they throw at me … I can’t seem to turn this one off. Strange.
Heaven forbid non-binary people want to be treated like people & have folks understand them.
This is so sad. This guy easily crushed his competition. Transgenders should just compete within their own category, if they want to compete.
While it is the very beginning of my day, this is the stupidest thing I’ve read so far. Rowling never made transphobic comments. Not agreeing with a lifestyle choice doesn’t earn the “phobic” suffix. A book series can be fun without needing to try and include every race and wacky sexuality a person may dream up. She has no obligation to anyone in her writing, except her own conscience. … and how weak-minded are these readers that they fall apart and can’t enjoy a story apart from the author’s tweets.

The weekends this year are starting to remind me of the winter of 1996. We’ve had two winter storms so far and we’re only fifteen days in. In 1996, we seemed to have a winter storm every single week in January and a couple into February.

Of course memories of that year are pretty vivid since it was also the winter when so many relatives died and the year when both of my grandfathers died. It’s also the year when my OCD got kicked into high gear. Basically, it wasn’t the best of times for me & my family.

I love snow, except for how it seems to isolate me from my friends and, now, Chris. It gives me no way to get out and deal with my anxiety, which isn’t great. At least when we were on lockdown, I could be in my car and drive around a little. Or I could go up to Lowe Mill and work a little, but I can’t do that even on the clearest day since that studio is no longer being rented by HAL. (I need a safe place to do art.)

I hope the snow won’t keep us stuck inside for long.

I spent Saturday afternoon through Sunday afternoon with Chris at his house. We spent most of the time asleep. When I would wake up, sometimes I would play Pokémon Go or I would read things on Twitter.

Other times I would turn over and act like Edward Cullen. No, I’m not saying I wanted to eat him because he smells so awesome. (Generally speaking I always want to do other things because he smells so awesome.) I would just look at him and think how pretty he is, which I ended up telling him when he woke up while I was less inhibited due to my nighttime medication. (That may also be part of why I’m okay writing this.)

But he is so pretty.

And if you’re thinking that’s emasculating, fuck you. Pretty isn’t feminine or masculine. It’s just pretty. That’s what it is, and that’s what he is.

He is also handsome and sexy and gorgeous and adorable and I just want to look at him forever. And watch him change clothes. And smell his pillow when he’s in the bathroom. And listen to him say just about anything ever.

He’s pretty and perfect and his eyes are magical and I love him so much. This weekend was far from the first time I’ve thought these things. Another time was when we were on the flight to California and he was holding my hand across the aisle because I am fucking terrified of flying and I knew that I was safe because I was with him. I knew that I never wanted to not hold his hand because I am home when I hold it. I know that I am touching my other half. (Not in a The Divinyls or Britney sort of way.)

And, on the way back, when he was helping me not die from exposure to peanuts—thanks, Spirit—I felt secure. Also, I liked having a chance to rest my head on his shoulder for four hours. Just being able to touch some part of him—I know some of y’all went to Perv City on that—anchors me. Though my “love language” for expressing love may be gifts, I think receiving involves physical touch. Or it is with him, since my haphephobia is still there with most people.

I miss him right now, but I know I’ll see him again in a day and a half, and I’ll be there overnight. So I guess I just get to dream and daydream about his prettiness until then.

For years—nay decades, I have had this strange issue of my mental health imploding on a 3 year cycle. Little things become big. Everything becomes too much. I feel like I’m losing it.

2001: Suicidal depression, regular self injury

2004: Same, plus Adderall induced psychosis

2007: Same, plus trauma of being kicked out of my major

2010: Same, without the Adderall but with the joy of having an autoimmune disease that I associated with my grandmother’s death

2013: Actually didn’t have anything happen this year besides Shingles

2016: Genuinely considered self-destructive behaviors over the election results

2019: Dad’s dementia led to a physical assault that resulted in a call to the police. I cut myself repeatedly after that.

2022: Cycling between self-injurious impulses, severe depression, hypersexual impulses, severe body image issues, and normalcy.

I just have to make it a few more months and things will probably be better. But I fucking hate this cycle.

I know that I cry a lot at the beginning of my period, but I’ve started noticing that it’s happening a lot towards the end of my period as well. I also seem to get really insecure and depressed around then too.

I can’t exactly do anything about it besides chanting, “it’s hormones. It’ll go away soon.” But that doesn’t make the feelings really go away. And I can’t tell people that for x number of days during my period they can’t do things that send me spiraling because that’s super manipulative and not healthy at all.

I just have to make it a couple more days and I can be back to my normal weirdness.

I have to get back into the hang of blogging and I know eventually I will. I know I used to disappear for days and weeks and months on end, but I don’t want to be like that anymore. I want to be more reliable.

Christmas was pretty good, though it was a bit scary at one point when we found out that Chris’s son had COVID-19. He was in California at the time, so we were helpless and heartbroken. I may have also been extra bitchy towards people during that time because I was upset. O is fine now, which ended up being the only thing I really wanted this Christmas. (Though if you want to get something for my birthday, I wouldn’t be opposed to that.)

The dessert table at my aunt’s house on Christmas Day.
Our dessert table on Christmas

I spent Christmas Day with my mom’s side of the family, and Chris spent it with his mom’s side. We waited until the day before New Years Eve to wrap presents for O, which were unwrapped within an hour of O getting to Chris’s house on New Years Eve. He seemed to enjoy his presents, which I’m so glad. You watch enough Charlotte Dobre videos and you start to worry about how kids will react to presents; though I never really have to worry about with O because he’s a good kid.

Chris and I went to a “party” before Christmas at our friend Elenya’s house. (It’s also Colin’s house, but he wasn’t there that night.) It was really just a Writers’ Club meeting with Christmas themed prompts (by Rhiana) and desserts & hot chocolate. I wrote this, which is only available on my Patreon.

So that’s what happened over my holiday break. And now I’m sitting in my living room listening to rain and sleet as part of the winter storm that’s going on right now. Fun times.

A redheaded woman in a shirt that reads “Not a Lot Going On at the Moment”
My T. Swift shirt on New Years Eve. Please ignore the toilet in the background.

On the way to celebrate Thanksgiving at my aunt’s house on Thursday, my mom told me that she and my dad had had a conversation recently about me. She told me that she told him that I would be happier and easier to get along with if I was on mood stabilizers. I was horrified.

My first response was, “what?” That was followed by my pointing out that I had tried every mood stabilizer and that I had adverse reactions to a large chunk of them (lithium, antipsychotics, and several anticonvulsants) and a zombie on most of them. My mom told me that I hadn’t. (I have taken all but two FDA-approved and off-label mood stabilizers.)

I’m actually much happier and feel relatively stable off of them. Being happier is why I’m not at home as much. In fact, the goal of my mental health care over the last decade or so has been to increase my ability to leave the house with the hope that one day I could actually live separately from my parents. And my treatment plans have had to accommodate my inability to use mood stabilizers.

When I told him what she’d said, Chris said it sounded like she wanted me to be compliant and stay home all the time. Unfortunately that was what I thought too. I haven’t told him all of the times she has said she wants to be my representative payee or have me placed in a program through Social Security that would eliminate my access to a bank account & remove my ability to run my shop. It would keep me without true resources.

It makes all of her talk through the years about my lack of control & my inability to live without continued assistance of my parents seem all the more sinister. Not to mention how it colors my view on her wanting access to my accident settlement (she wants it in her bank account) and how she wants to raid my cash box for the festivals I’ve sold art & jewelry at. I’m fairly certain she’s been repaid most of the change she thinks I owe her on that. Then again, this is a woman who has threatened to sell or throw out my belongings before, so who knows what she thinks about that money?

It makes me want to make sure I definitely get a studio out of this house so that I can definitely gain independence. It also makes me want to stay out of my house all the time. I don’t feel like she views me as a person.

In the before times, there was one sentiment I grew to hate whenever I was at a festival or something selling my stuff. Customers would ooh and ahh over things, then they’d say they had other booths to check out but they’d definitely come back & buy something. 9 out of 10 times, I never saw them again.

So I don’t know why it surprised me when a few of my friends would promise to buy books but never did or would come to those festivals but never did. Not only would it surprise me, it was hurtful. I understand when other things came up, but promising to buy something to someone who is barely able to rent a space or can’t buy an author’s copy for themselves and failing to follow through is extremely hard on them.

You shouldn’t buy something if you don’t want to spend the money on something, can’t afford it, or don’t want it, but you shouldn’t promise you’ll do something you won’t be doing. If you do want it, but can’t afford it now, say that you’ll buy it when you can afford it. If you think you may forget to make the purchase, ask that the person should remind you personally when it is in stores or the day before a festival. If you want to support a friend’s endeavors in a non-financial way, be their hype person. I have friends who just share links and that helps quite a bit. I do occasionally get sales that way. I have other friends who just cheer me on, but make no promises and that’s cool too.

Just please remember that friends who are writers, artists, and artisans asking you to support them need more than a couple of white lies. They need your support and they need sales.

Some of the gifts for O arrived today, which has me kind of worried because I don’t remember how to properly wrap presents. Also, I have no wrapping paper, bows, tape, or tags for O’s gifts.

I bought special paper for Chris’s presents that I could use on O’s, but I don’t know if I should. I may just get O his own paper too. I know blue is his favorite color, so I may run with that.

Or I could do gift bags.

Again.

I don’t get why wrapping gifts has to be so difficult for me, besides my clumsiness amplifying my issues with cutting and folding in straight lines. Also, tape hates me. Oh, wait. I’m starting to figure out why it’s difficult.

Chris and I were sitting at Waffle House this afternoon waiting for food. I was showing him some of the Facebook posts that were a tad fucked up—mostly science-denying, anti-mask, anti-vaxx stuff—before reporting them for spreading false information about Covid, as one does. I found a post by a “friend” about what they called: lifestyle choices.

Oh you know what they meant by that. In the year of our Lord 2021, motherfuckers are still calling being LGBTQ+a lifestyle choice. So what we’re going to is talk about some lifestyle choices.

Being a science-denying nincompoop is a lifestyle choice. It may not be a long lasting one, but it’s still one. Although one could argue that the consequences of that decision last for-fucking-ever.

It’s the one and only D-O-double G.

Getting your Thanksgiving recipes from Martha Stewart and Snoop Dogg instead of Rachael Ray is a lifestyle choice. It’s also obviously the only correct choice. No, really. If you’ve never watched Martha and Snoop, you’ve missed out.

Drinking water vs. drinking soda is a lifestyle choice. Reading more vs. watching television is a lifestyle choice. Going to church vs. not is a lifestyle choice. Wearing dresses vs. pants is a lifestyle choice. Recycling vs. not recycling is a lifestyle choice. (And I judge people who choose not to recycle.)

A lifestyle choice is something where you actually have a choice to make. Sexuality and gender identity are not choices. I’ll say it louder for the people in the back:

SEXUALITY AND GENDER IDENTITY ARE NOT CHOICES.

They are part of who you are.

Assuming you’re cisgender, did you wake up one day and decide you were going to identify most with the gender that you were assigned at birth? Or did you always feel that gender fit you?

Assuming you’re heterosexual, did you wake up one day and decide you were going to date or fall in love with people of a different gender? Or have you always been attracted to that gender?

It was the latter on both, wasn’t it?

Because. It’s. Not. A. Choice.

Common myths about being LGBTQ from edcan.ca

And it never has been a choice.

The individual who called it a choice in their post also suggested that J.K. Rowling never said anything transphobic. I’m gonna spell this out for them and anyone else who doesn’t get it, yes, she fucking did. She’s been transphobic repeatedly. She has promoted transphobia. She has denied transphobia is real. So you can fuck all the way off with that bullshit!

I’m okay. I promise. I’m calm. I’m centered. I may need to prune my friend list of transphobic, homophobic, antisemitic science-deniers. Sometimes you have to let the toxic people in your life go.