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*Trigger Warnings: Descriptions of harassment, panic attacks, PTSD symptoms, anxiety, threats of physical violence. Mentions of trauma, abuse, bipolar depression, PTSD, anxiety, coping, self deprecating thoughts, dark humor.* Sunday, May 28th, 2023

12:06pm

This is the letter that I wrote to my older (half) sister, before the texts in Part 1 the next day.

Here’s what I said to her:

“Hey Angel… I think it’s time we talk about the distance that we both have experiencing. Honestly, I don’t even know how the distance started, but it’s something that I fell into and followed. I would like to talk when you’re ready because it’s necessary that we do. That we talk about everything for as long as we both need, and that we come into this conversation ready and willing to hear each other out. Just let me know.”

“I was in such a dark place when this all started. I think after looking back on it, that I never took the time to properly explain what happened, what’s been happening…

As you know, I’ve had such an extensive amount of trauma, especially from my supposed father-figures. It was September… I was on a shuttle, trying to get to my rehearsal for dance on a Sunday afternoon. I stepped onto the shuttle, wearing my headphones, listening to the same playlist that I do before I dance. It’s my… ritual, the thing that grounds me, calms me, but also, psyches me up to go. And, that’s the paradoxical thing about having anxiety as well as bipolar depression; you have to calm yourself down in order to build yourself up to feel excited.

In that process, I missed the driver telling everyone to not get on if they were not going to the next stop, which would unfold in our confrontation. 

I got on the bus, and when we arrived at the next stop, I didn’t get off the bus, which was odd, but not too unusual… until I noticed the yelling. I took out my earbuds to hear the driver yelling, and it took me a second to realize that he was yelling at me. He was trying to force me off the bus because I apparently wasn’t supposed to be on otherwise.

I was confused, and shocked, and frightened, but I found the courage to ask why. I didn’t know at the time that he had said that he would swing back around to get the people going to main campus. I got frustrated with how he was acting, because we would get there eventually ‘cause the route is continuous, as all bus routes are, but he kept getting more aggressive as he was trying to force me off. His reasoning was, “because he said so”, instead of any semblance of reason. It reached the point where other students were getting on to return home, and that spurred him to park the bus, say that he wasn’t moving until I got off, and threatened to call the police or physically removing me himself. I was panicked, so I did what my mind told me to do in the moment. I made my way off, asked for his name, which was like pulling teeth, and tried to call the office to make a complaint. He drove away, I was officially late to rehearsal, and then, I realized that I had no idea where I was.

My anxiety was building exponentially as I called the transportation office 3 times with no response before I realized there wasn’t going to be, because they are closed on the weekends. I then tried calling all my friends, with cars, to see if they could pick me up to no avail. Then, I had my first panic attack on the curb of a parking lot in an unfamiliar place, while people walked by with odd stares and no concern for me.  Then, I tried calling all and any family I could, my mom, you, Camille, and Auntie Roz and Auntie Julie, but no one answered.

Cue my second panic attack.

A friend called me back, I explained the situation, but they couldn’t come get me. So, I made the decision to call an Uber with the last $11 I had. On the drive, my mom called to see what was going on. She responded to the story by saying “Get over it”. Not understanding how triggering it was for me, or caring for how upset or shaken I was. I got out of the Uber, had my third panic attack in 40 minutes, and after, I noticed the time.

Rehearsal was over, and I cried.

I called my professor to apologize and after I explained what happened, he Venmo’d me for the Uber, but that’s where the resolution of the incident stopped. I did end up filing a complaint, and they took my side, but didn’t act on any of the solutions I asked for. After that, well, I spiraled.

Part 1 -- Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7

“When people bicker, it is said to arise from the depths of lakes to becalm violent hearts.”

Artist

ITS PRIDE MONTH FUCKERS PAY UP 💵🤲

i don't want to make this month about discourse, because most discourse is arbitrary and pointless at best, and self-destructive and dangerous at worst. but happy pride month to all queer people in the community that have been targets of exclusion, abuse, or erasure by certain jerks in the community.

trans people, intersex people, black queers, aces/aros, mspecs, neopronoun users, xenogender people, transhets, gnc queer people, multigender people, people who use microlabels, mspec lesbians/gays, polyamorous people, queers with split attraction, and any other groups who have been targets of abuse, exclusion, or erasure by other queer people who should have had their backs.

i don't need to tell you that you're valid because it's not for me or anyone else to decide that your way of describing yourself is "invalid." you are the only person who can label yourself in a way that is fulfilling to you- and if that means not labelling yourself at all, that's great too! but i love you. i'm proud of you for existing, despite the fact that you have to deal with some queer exclusionists hating you on top of the queermisia from non-queers. your existence is beautiful. your queerness is beautiful. be proud of yourself, because you deserve to be.

love you. have a wonderful month, because you deserve to celebrate it just as much as every other queer person <3

and to the exclusionists in question: you don't get to blame the rest of us for hating you when you help make queer spaces unsafe for queer people. worrying about how other queer people identify is such a waste of time, because they're going to identify that way no matter what you think. your opinions on other peoples' validity means absolutely nothing. you are wasting valuable time that you could be using to be proud of your own queerness instead of reveling in your misery about other queer people daring to exist in a way you don't like. so try changing and growing as a person and stop spending all of your time worrying about what other gay people are doing.

*Trigger Warnings: Descriptions of verbal and emotional abuse, su*c*d*l thoughts, PTSD symptoms, self-deprecation, anxiety, and depression.* Monday, Nov. 7th, 2022 Part 2

4:37pm

Here’s what I would say to her:

“To Angel,

I would like to have an open conversation please… I’ve been holding in a lot of stress and anxiety surrounding you, that I just don’t know what to do with. I feel so stifled, and like I’m only able to say or do certain things to avoid any negative responses or retaliation from you. I haven’t appreciated the way that you have spoken to me lately, when you are bringing up issues that you that you want to address with me. It comes off as condescending and that there’s no consideration for me in the “conversation”. And while mentally, I know that you are not coming from an ill place, emotionally and how I respond physically, I can’t tell whether or not I should be guarded with you. Because I’m scared… of what and how you will say things. 

When you are trying to give me advice, you don’t ask for consent, or if I have any experience in the matter. When you’re trying to teach me, it’s very abrasive and as if I’m dumb to not have known it before. When you are telling me to fix something or reminding me or helping me, it never feels like just that. It’s as if I’m being scolded like a child, or that I need to meet your standards and expectations of me. I’m starting to react to you talking to me as if I’m on the watch for an ambush.

There are better ways to approach these “conversations” that will be easier for me to receive, but I hate feeling like I’m walking on eggshells with you. I have processing issues that affect my memory and I’m recovering from severe, disordered eating habits, and it’s going to take a lot longer than 3 weeks for me to learn all the ways you like for the house to be maintained. So, instead of speaking to me in such a brash manner, I would greatly appreciate and prefer if you could change how you bring up issues or topics with me. Especially so that it comes off in the way you intend.

I feel like you disregard how many times I have said that I feel that I have to make myself small in a way that is so far from what I mean. I don’t feel like my being here in this place and this new facet of our relationship has really cemented yet, but you have fallen into this pattern of interacting with me as if you know me so well. It’s not the same for me, not even close. I’ve not started feeling like myself again like I should, and while my days here have been lighter and easier to deal with, it’s only that and nothing more. 

You have no idea of how I am actually doing or feeling or thinking because I don’t feel comfortable sharing it with you, nor do you properly check-in with me. At least, without it being in comparison to yourself. I’m literally alive only because you want me to be, and yet, I feel like I’m being picked apart and belittled for not saying or doing things the way you would. It’s controlling and does not make me want to approach you for anything other than what you must know. 

Like, I feel like I am just now learning who you are, and that you don’t feel the same because you keep saying that “you know me so well”, but you don’t. Not with us only building a relationship 3 years ago because, remember, we grew up on opposite sides of the country! There’s so much you don’t know, and it doesn’t feel like you even notice that you don’t. Yet, you jump to speaking to me in ways that I don’t need or want at this time. 

I just need a gentler deliver that isn’t accented with a vicious tone to then be excused by saying you want to continue these “open conversations” when you’re finished, when it has NEVER FELT MORE ONE-SIDED.

And, if it feels like you have to change the way you communicate, in order to talk with me, then I’m really sorry to have asked for such a truly difficult task like this, but I really need this at this moment in time.”

Part 1

i love when they draw a carrot on top of the carrot cake just to remind you this aint no ordinary fuckin cake youre dealing with