Archive for the 'chris' Category

your commute is not important to me

Written on April 11, 2012 by chris and matt. 0 Comments

this morning on my way to work, a car turned left directly into an ambulance’s path. sirens, lights, etc. it started from a stopped position and turned left when the light changed, with apparently no investigation of the sirens (or maybe they just didn’t care?) i got so angry. it felt like a key.

yesterday i noticed my anger joylessly, fought with my anger, had a stormy night filled with drinking and playing computer games and jerking off, anything to get away from myself. i always hate to see my anger arrive. i never greet it with love or respect. but i do know this about myself, and try to come around. when i can. it is just so hard, so unwelcome. today i feel resentful of everything. angry because of too much oversight at work. furious at thoughtless, selfish, indifferent commuters. angry that i have to feel anger. angry at the book i’m reading and its stupid fucking ableism. angry because of how fucking hard life is with disabilities, and angry that i feel guilty for them. every fucking day. i could go on and on.

i’m trying to write this in between working. my writing probably suffers for it. everything seems disjointed that way, now, but saying anything at all is still something.

so feeling angry at the car (i believe it was a bmfuckingw) that ignored the ambulance, i tried to realize that my anger has a source. i had tried to identify it but just felt angry, just resentful, just angry at everything. i think sometimes when i don’t know why i’m angry it’s because the reason is not deemed acceptable or worthy.  i am so angry at the people with the power, for whom everything is easy but they demand to be easier, who resent even us saying that they are in power, they want everything. freedom without responsibility, which is what they say that anarchy is. (i’m stealing that idea from a talk i watched with margaret killjoy and ursula k leguin.) i’m angry at people who think they are more important than other people.

driving, i think a lot of that becomes clearer. though why in a car more than a scooter, i’m not sure. i guess the scooter occupies my mind more, and somehow it’s easier to think i’m at fault.

speaking of which, i’m fucking heartsick that my scooter is dead and i don’t have the will to revive it. it may only need a jump-start. but i don’t know who to call or how to proceed. meanwhile spring sets in, and the weather is perfectly nice, and it is ridiculous for me to be driving a car around. i’m angry about that, too. i hate anger. it makes me feel so impotent. it shuts me down, blocks all possible action. i know it is foolish and impotent to be angry at my anger. (btw it’s not just mine those people have fucking names.) i know that the key in my healing is to unravel and experience this anger. fuck, that makes me pissed.

working is difficult, concentrating is difficult. it feels like this impotence can defeat me.

mother, i am not less important than you. you are very small-minded and i am furious at you.   … right?

there are no magic words. those words were in my head and i thought i’d get credit if i said them. i guess that was foolish. there is no such thing as credit. i want this to work its way out of me, i can’t work, i can’t think, i want to be dead.

nothing to say but what a day

Written on November 17, 2011 by chris and matt. 0 Comments

intense discomfort. my face and neck and collarbone area are itching and burning and crawling today, no matter what clothes i change to (if the clothes are warm enough anyway). i want to know what that’s about but i don’t want to push or act like i deserve an answer. i am aware of it, i suffer for it, i want to make room for it. somehow none of this is convincing me of anything. big surprise.. sometimes i don’t know how to help. i want to be there for others inside but everything i do feels like it is not honoring them somehow. my system has a history of this. much as i hate to say it, some of us have the intuition that taking a parenting role might be more helpful than trying to just give them free rein. like getting out of their way is not being there for them. this makes me uncomfortable and scared.

i couldn’t get much work done today because of a server being down, and i feel like a failure. i am always more stressed out by work the less there is for me to do (that i know how to do and can proceed on).

thinking of making a big purchase that i feel irritable and anxious about. too much work required. i want to get to the point where it’s over.

i hate this country. i like this city more or less. if the west coast were its own country, i wonder how much more like europe we’d be… blah blah blah i don’t know what i’m saying.

nothing is ok. everything sucks. i hate depression. i hate how unshakable depression is, especially in the winter.

nothing to say

Written on November 21, 2010 by chris and matt. 0 Comments

everything is broken, broken-down, pointless and rusted. I have not got any of anything that I need to make it through. yes, discouraged, but more than that too. oh shut up. I don’t actually know what I’m saying.

everything in our brain is on endless repeat, tired trackless loops that spin into nowhere. we made the mistake of writing some of it down, and the attempt to find patterns felt like the bad kind, the worst kind, of being invisible. like being ignored. we still writhe at the memory. our own fault. stupid stupid stupid. everything in us is broken and there is no fix, the attempt to find a fix just grinds everything into the ground. crowded feelings we’re not used to, like anger, like envy and jealousy, stupid petty grievances that come from too much absorption in our own perspective. I despise us.

people feel like everyone gets help but us. it’s all so preposterous. I hate having feelings that are so refutable, so dogged by shame.

i only came here to talk

Written on December 1, 2008 by chris, jo/e and we don't know who. 1 Comment

what if we stopped running? o my god, please no. the nature of the thought is to avert. running is intrinsic. it feels like acid in my mind, we need containment, we need walls. this is ridiculous. nothing so bad could have happened. and if it DID then it wasn’t happening to US so what do we care? we should not be traumatized. ok, even the minimizers have to concede that was a dumb thing to say. but sometimes, yes, it feels like not our grief. i don’t think we even knew her. or if it happened more than one year. i know it didn’t happen every year. though something did.

should have been us, should have been us! the guilt is strangely not what’s dominating right now though. it’s the barbeque burnt hair smell, orange licking pink and making black, good lord we can’t even say it. we can’t even say it here. i don’t understand why. we’ve told people. everyone knows we have these spurious memories of b… i can’t type it… of sacrifice by fire. our fingers are jolting, stuttering, this is tough.

good lord, is it really true that we’ve always been oblique about this? no wonder our therapist forgot. her forgetting still stings. shouldn’t make such a big deal. it wasn’t us getting hurt.

it’s not the guilt, it’s the horror. all day, someone inside went hunting for the gruesome and the tragic. tsunami pictures. stampedes. that kind of thing. we didn’t know why until edge was asking questions and asked how long we’ve had trouble with therapy and we realized it was rather neatly traceable to the beginning of the month. and then we realized what we haven’t let go of, why we had to see. we’re usually pretty good at desensitizing ourselves to triggers – we pick at the scab until it’s all scar and it takes a lot to get under. so why the flinching, today, tonight? why seek it if we flinch? are we trying to get to where we don’t?

i want to throw up until all i can smell is vomit. i want to go so far away.

there’s no sound. there’s a little heat, but not really. just our face some. but the smell and the sight are fucking enough. 

i don’t fucking CARE if you don’t believe me, i know how it sounds and i’m doing this my way. of course we have people clamoring for a chance to deny, voluminously. but fucking fuck it. this is really fucking hard and i do it any fucking way i can. i’m tired of being alone. i’m tired of being all safe and gold-silence. and in the end i have to consider the possibility that this is real. i’ve certainly been struggling, there’s a lot of stuff to explain away in a denial.

really there’s not much though. what else is there to say? sometimes in the summer when i walk down the street and there are barbeques i want to run into backyards and smash their grill to pieces, shake them until they see how their stupid picnic affects others.

you have no fucking idea.

no pure land now

Written on July 14, 2008 by chris and matt. 0 Comments

when did my days turn into marking time? that scares me, like someone’s going to notice and laugh and kick my ass to the curb come fall. because i’m too busy, never enough time, during the schoolyear i feel like i should appreciate every second of nothing.

but it’s really that. it’s all nothing. i’d like to be ok. i have plenty to get done, just nothing pressing, nothing that fills me with panic enough to cut through the depression. i’d like to be happy. it’s such a weird switch. when it’s ok i can’t answer what’s-so-bad and when it’s bad i can’t answer what-makes-this-worth-it. it’s so easy to fall back into this empty place. i didn’t leave the house today.

i feel like every moment should be a joy, because i’m getting top surgery, because life is getting better and better. but it doesn’t work that way. i’ll never be grateful enough to suit the voices in my head, because they learned from my mom. just because i’m depressed doesn’t mean i’m not happy about surgery and everything else i’m doing to make my life better.

i guess it’s just such a weird fucking limbo. i was ok with my living situation before i got that damn voucher. grr. but now i feel like there can be no beginnings and no safety until i’m gone.

it’s so hard to sleep lately. i’d take a trazodone, but i only have a few left and i’m scared of calling my pdr to get more. i’m scared if i have anything wrong with me at all people are going to associate it with transitioning. i’m scared that the only right thing will somehow get taken away.

i’m concerned about the state of my interpersonal relationships right now. when so many people have a problem with me, i have to wonder what it is that i’m doing. sure, supposedly indigo’s gone and jaga’s unreachable always and ej’s cocooning… sure k– has “his own” stuff and it’s not something i did wrong – i don’t know – it just seems like too much of a pattern. i am so desperate for anyone. i don’t understand why it’s anyone but aeron. i love him, and i might be a lot worse off if it weren’t for him. he’s always there (if i want to watch tv or talk about one of the three topics of conversation he’s interested in (anime, games, or programming)). he’s never gone. i shut my door but he’s still there. always he wants to be around me, always. he watches when i play a game, he criticizes the game writers and tries to help me and gets mortally offended if i ask him not to. he’s there for everything.

why isn’t that good enough? why is the one thing i can have the only thing i don’t want? there must be some way in which i’m creating this situation. it seems like too much of a pattern. i said that already. there is nothing but circles.

i guess i don’t understand what my way through this one is supposed to be. i’m going crazy in this house. aeron offers to go out, indeed accompanies me to the library and store, but again i’m an ungrateful bitch. it doesn’t feel like getting out of the house if i bring him with me. i’m so mean! he’s being perfectly nice to me. as nice as he gets.

and i know alone isn’t what i want, because if that were the case i could shut the door to my room and be happy. except the only thing i can do in here is check my email and get depressed at the lack, or read. i have library books and they are good but they are depressing too. that’s what happens when i do searches for subjects i can relate to.

i finished one today – last exit to normal – and the happy ending was where the protagonist ended up settling down in this small town. it was supposed to be happy, hopeful, good people, everything working out. but i was so, so depressed. i can’t imagine a life in which the small town is the happy ending. my reaction was almost violent. the only hope is getting to the city.

i guess i did live in the country and outside of small towns and such growing up, and didn’t get to live in a city until i was on my own and not getting abused. so i can see how i’d have those associations. but books are supposed to help me escape, not depress me more.

i guess it’s just about finding the right books. i’m limited because there’s only certain ones i seem to be able to stick with. i don’t get any adult books.

i know that time moves and i have a lot going on pretty darn soon – or you know, the one thing. it’s enough. i’m flying out in a week, and i have surgery in a week and two days. i’m about equal parts apprehensive (trying to make sure all the pieces are in place, more than anything – what if somehow it’s not scheduled after all?) and excited.

i’ll be gone just in time for my friends becoming available. i need them now. but need doesn’t mean jack shit.

get over it

Written on July 12, 2008 by chris. 0 Comments

fuck, it’s all so futile. everything aches today. i think it’s a combination of bad sleep, sex with aeron, and rock band. my back is stiff and walking hurts. even writing an entry might be too much because my fucking legs hurt enough to need a stronger distraction.

not just body pain. i am so fucking bitter and empty. futile. there is no fair and there is no connection and there is no anything. i want to be angry but that doesn’t do a damn bit of good, i am angry at nothing.

we keep having to check those stupid renee thoughts of “people would spend more time with us if they really knew how really much we need it.” we have to trim them back and then they grow again. i’m doing something wrong. this isn’t about any one outside person(s), either. but i have a very limited number of friends, and one of them is in miami.

we wrote a quote from the tao and put it on our wall: “to live in favor or disgrace is to live in fear.” that whole stupid bind of hope<–>fear. they are equivalent in quality. and to be looking for approval or a lower amount of disapproval from the outside just won’t work. so we’re fucking trying to act like we’re set. but my body fucking hurts and i’m fucking sick of everyone. EVERYone. the world is so FUCKING unconcerned. nothing in my world can touch anything in anybody else’s. i don’t even want to see anybody. but it’s still all i think about.

this fucking time period just sucks ass because indigo’s gone and we haven’t heard about the apartment and we’re just waiting for surgery so we’re trying to not rock the boat. which means… i don’t know… not seeking fulfillment or even real contentment.

i feel like i’m losing out on time forever. how long after i get back will i have to refrain from playing rock band? how long until school starts? i see the fucking scarcity thinking at work, but so? so friends are scarce. so we’re screwed and alone and it doesn’t fucking matter. why does that mean we should just give in to it?

i have this useless anger pouring endlessly through me, and i just don’t know where the fuck to put it. so it stays in my legs and makes them hurt like a bitch. i want to kick something. and before you suggest anything, just don’t, because i can’t stand falsity or condescension. i know all about fucking beating up phone books and writing and drawing and every fucking other thing. so just skip it.

like weather, there is hopelessness around everyone who comes out. it says that we’re seeing now how we are alone except for aeron and there will never fucking be anyone else. and i am so sick of pretending that’s not true.

this state of being is not sustainable. we’re going to ex- or implode.

till morning comes to night

Written on June 2, 2008 by chris and matt. 2 Comments

my sex aches, inside and out. my dick is unpleasantly sensitive from relentless stimulation. my cunt feels a little tender around the edges, but not bad; bad is the ache deep inside, radiating out from the center. it feels like i have menstrual cramps, but i haven’t had a period in months. my psyche aches too, it most of all i guess. the awful guilt and terror of displeasing that chokes all of my breath out, so i’ll do anything anything oh god anything and capitulating is not enough. giving ourselves comes closer, but our need for punishment is bottomless. we don’t just get fucked; we get pounded, choked till our neck bruises, punched, spanked, slapped, whipped, it still isn’t enough. none of it is him. he goes along, but it comes from our devouring need to be devalued.

too, it’s comforting to know a person to be, a space to fill. know what he wants from us, completely. just relax, give in, and be dirty worthless nothing trash cumbucket princess girl. done with choices or hard thinking. the hardest things all come in the form of enduring. i don’t know why we do this to ourselves; it’s not like he’s even that nice after. he has stuff to do and we don’t know how to ask for what we want and plus it’s just getting to be so common that it’s not special. enduring misery and wanting to die and die is somehow easier than just studying for the damn placement tests.

i can’t write, i can’t keep in touch, i can’t find the spark. (i got to feed it something, or put it out for good.) i know this dullness is caused by how we’re acting with him, and i know that it’s not good for us. but knowing doesn’t seem to do anything.

maybe we could stick with the not-moving decision (background: we have a chance to live alone because we recently came to the top of the waiting list for a section 8 voucher) without the sexual punishment… but it all feels part and parcel of the same thing. the nymphette types would rather die horribly than willfully disappoint their daddy, or make him unhappy. so they come tell him no it’s ok we won’t go don’t be sad daddy daddy please don’t be sad. i’m not saying the bigs can’t hear them or aren’t going along. we can go along, dull-eyed, confused, recalcitrant, pressure-cooking volcanoes of self-hate for our disloyalty. it’s not that it only touches them. i don’t know. it’s fine; i’m fucking fake, i’m completely and totally fake. it would be horribly selfish to move out and i probably wouldn’t like it anyway.

but it feels like i’ve hit the ceiling of self-actualization. if i stay here, i am admitting that things will never change. that i’ll always have one foot in the past, in the trauma, that i’ll never be independent. oh i know those are stupid things to think. believe me, i agree with him! but what the hell good does that do?

it’s just a loss of hope. i’m sure there is some way to hope and still live here. i’m just too dumb right now to find it. and fuck, there is no way out. even words are stupid. i’m melodramatic and pretending i’ve backed myself into a corner. really, i’m just worthless, just lazy, just depressed.

there is no point in saying words because no one will understand, especially myself. there is no insight or clarity, and there is no sympathy. i know it’s all my fault, all my doing. i keep thinking about jumping but i have a depressingly long hill to slide down before things get that bad. i want to be saved. i want not to be alone with him. he hasn’t done a goddamn thing wrong. he is just fine. i am the one creating all of this. i want to figure out how to stop.

i want to skip the downhill and jump straight for the abyss.

instead i’ll lie on my bed, procrastinating the studying for tests, playing solitaire, and wishing and wishing i were real enough to die.

news flash: myriad is stupid!

Written on April 11, 2008 by chris and matt. 2 Comments

i wish i could cry. i wish i could cut. i’m toying with the idea of trying for some bruises… but i want to be good, i want to not make things harder on myself. but i just don’t know what to do.

i’m too stupid for statistics. it’s utterly humiliating. i never realized i was a stupid person before. and maybe i’m not, in the humanities. but in the hard sciences, which many people (includingsortofusbecausewe’rebad) think are all that matter, we apparently can’t do shit. i’m so willing to put a million work in… but all the work in the world doesn’t help if i don’t know how the hell to start because i simply don’t understand, even after poring over all the materials available to me for hours.

Continue reading ‘news flash: myriad is stupid!’

i could put together some kind of pride

Written on February 10, 2008 by beth and chris. 0 Comments

well. so okay, here we are again. there’s nothing new to say, but we’re slowly and cautiously moving out of the bottom of the depths. indigos coming over helped a lot, and not just because we like spending time with them (though we do). they were very sweet about talking to us about what’s going on, our triggers and such, and the terrible tension eased up just a bit. i don’t know that we can believe the things they said, but we can hear them. (a very fine distinction.) and we can breathe, realizing it’s not so easy to lose those who are most important.

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from all the years

Written on February 4, 2008 by chris and renee. 1 Comment

the bottom is dropping and dropping and dropping and dropping and i’m scared and scared and scared and scared and scared and scared.

Continue reading ‘from all the years’