Filed under: Uncategorized
I fell asleep last night thinking about walls. Specifically, what happened in my history that lead to me building these walls and refusing to tear them down for anyone.
I’m thinking back to my mother and my complicated relationship with her growing up.
Growing up, I loved my mother, on the verge of becoming obsessed with her. Looking back I defiantly had some mama issues and thought she was this perfect human being (I used to tell people my mother was “sexy”, which is awkward). It wasn’t until I was 16 that I discovered her addiction to alcohol, but once I discovered it, I couldn’t believe that my parents had been able to hide it from me for so long. I learned later in life that my dad REALLY wanted me to have a special relationship with my mother, so he sacrificed his relationship with me so that he could build her up to being something she wasn’t. I later learned in life that when she was passed out, he would cook dinner but give my mother credit, or say that my mother had done something for me, but really he had done it.
I grew up feeling NO connection to my father, because I thought he wasn’t involved in my life at all. This is the most upsetting thing about my childhood, when I think back on it. I love, love, love my father today and think he is one of the most amazing human beings, but it took a really long time to come to that conclusion. I wish that I had been allowed to see that earlier.
Anyway, I believe it was at the point when I discovered my mothers addiction to alcohol that I began to build my walls. Before then, I believed she had been so, so important to my life and I felt like I had been betrayed.
I’m wondering if it was around this time that I subconsciously started building these walls, to ensure that no one was able to easily come in and hurt me, like my mother did. If this is indeed the case, I’m wondering what I can do to help make my situation with others better.
What sort of work can I do internally to recognize that while those walls were valid, they are now doing more damage than good. What work can I do to recognize that I am not longer a child and have the ability to see people as they really are, I don’t need these walls by default.
I guess it’s things, just like this, why people go to therapists. Hopefully I can figure it out on my own, because I fucking have to learn how to let people into my life. I just have to.
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I’m in a weird place. I’m so happy that I came back to TSF and reread the posts I made about you. I had forgotten so many of the little details of our interactions, but I documented a lot of those here. I love that. I love that TSF finally became something that I could use to look back and remember the good times. The better times.
I wrote that boy a letter. It’s been two years since I last wrote him a letter, but this one is very different than the first one I wrote.
I had to write a letter filled with apology.
Wait, you might be wondering why we couldn’t just talk in person? Well, I guess what it boils down to, is that I’m really weak when it comes to certain things.
Anyway, you’ve tough me so much about myself, but I’m so, so incredibly sorry that I had to use you to figure out these things about myself.
You’re an amazing person, but what I was able to realize through being with you, is that I have a lot of walls. Walls are really important (I think) and they serve a really important purpose, but what good is a wall if you can’t open it up every once in a while to let people in? Or, more importantly, what good is it if you can’t ever let those walls down to let yourself out?
Maybe someday I’ll learn to let down those walls. But if I couldn’t let them down with you, someone who was incredibly sweet and supportive of me, then who the fuck would I be able to let them down for?
When I’m feeling strong, it’s easy to say I’ll be alone forever and feel okay about it. When I’m strong, I can remind myself that I have a great friend base and I’m working on a project that feels really meaningful.
But when I’m not feeling that strong, I just think about what my future looks like not being able to *be* with someone. It sometimes scares me. What if in the future I really feel like I *need* someone in my life, but can’t let them in? What the fuck do I do then?
I need to figure this out, but I don’t know where to start. For the first time, in a long time, I can identify something about myself that I feel like I want to change, but I don’t know how to change it.
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Oh hello. It’s been a while.
I’ve been really, really angry lately. Like, angry at everything I see. I continually feel pressured to not talk about this anger, not talk to people around me about what I see and why it angers me.
I wish I/we lived in a world where we were encouraged to be actually angry about things, instead of constantly being encouraged to “see the positivity in everything.”
Let’s encourage people to be angry, because that’s the kind of energy that actually gets things done. Let’s be angry that people of color are being continually executed by police in the streets. Let’s be angry that Queer & Trans kids are getting kicked out of their homes, being forced to do whatever they can do to survive. Let’s be angry that the mainstream gay culture is encouraging kids to come out and yet when they do, suddenly they realize that no support exists for them and they are on the streets with no where to go. Let’s be angry that depression is such a taboo subject, leading to no one being able to talk about it. Let’s be angry that mental health assistance in this country is a fucking joke.
It’s okay to be angry. We have a lot to be angry about and if you aren’t, then you need to check that privilege and ask yourself why. Why are you able to completely ignore all the horrible things that happen in the world? Is that because you have *magic powers* and are able to process all of this in a way that no one else can, or is that you simply are not paying attention?
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I’m just going to leave this vague post here for now, maybe I’ll come back later to work on it:
I feel like it’s telling that, because of you, I cried for the first time in years (literal years). It’s telling because you’re the same person I cried about, while updating livejournal, many years ago.
When we started hanging out again, after many years of not talking, I thought about this exact moment. I wondered if I was really ready to be your friend again, after you hurt me several years ago. I made the decision that I was ready, but was I wrong?
I asked and then made it very clear to you that I was planning on staying at your house tonight, yet you found a boy at the bar to seduce and you left me to drive to his house, across town. I made it home safe and I really want to send you a text telling you that, but I know that would be passive aggressive bull shit. I’m better than that. I think so, at least.
I understand that we aren’t a “thing” and I understand that we probably won’t ever be a “thing” and I think that’s what I want. But, when you drink, you become an asshole who can only think of himself and his needs. How long do I stick around for this shit? Intellectually, I know that it would probably be best for be to cut ties with this person, I know these sorts of things will continue to happen. But I simply can’t.
I think that, most of all, I hate that I’m feeling like my heart (which, intellectually, I understand isn’t capable of any sort of thought or feelings) is winning out over my mind. I don’t want to be that person. I want to be the person who is always able to make decisions that are 100% in the moment and always considering the whole picture. That isn’t me right now. Shit.
I’ve been hanging out a lot with this boy, who I used to hang out with quite a bit 7 years ago. I was in a weird place in my life, he was really flirty/friendly, I was bound to fall for him in a really unhealthy way. Well, I did and he then had a boyfriend, it didn’t end well.
We’ve been hanging out a lot (a whole, whole lot) lately and it’s so easy for me to fall back into that same place of lust I was in before. I’m just not used to being around people who are so fucking friendly and flirty. We slipped back into our old places so easily, it just felt right.
I know getting back into this isn’t good for me, but I can’t help it. Why the fuck do I keep finding myself drawn to you in this almost unbearable way?
Filed under: Uncategorized | Tags: blowies, Faggots, gay southern life, growing up gay, hand jobs
I’ve talked about this before on here, but I’ve been a nelly faggot my entire life. Everyone around me has always known. Looking at pictures of me as a kid, hands on my hips, sassy face, limp wristed, I just can’t help but to laugh. My parents weren’t ready for the kid the raised, but somehow it happened anyway.
I should also say that I wouldn’t change that for the world. Being a nelly faggot is who I am today and has always been a big part of my life, I wouldn’t change a day.
But, in being a big ole nelly fairy faggot queen, people make a lot of assumptions about me. Some of them are true, some maybe not. But the one that interests me the most, is that people assume I’ve had a lot (whole, whole) of sex in my life and I started having sex at a very young age. This isn’t true, but I certainly wish it was! I didn’t have any sexual encounter with anyone until I was 20 (this includes making out), which I almost feel ashamed to admit, which is so odd. I feel like when I tell people that, I somehow am less of a nelly faggot in their eyes. I mean, what kind of gay kid wasn’t sucking the dick of every kid in the boy scout troop, or giving blowies in the elementary/middle school bathrooms? I often spend time wondering how being a non-sexual being until I was 20 shaped who I was in high school, or what I became now.
Growing up, having a big friend base was always difficult, because associating with me automatically turned you into “the kid who was friends with the faggot”. I don’t wish this, but I do wonder what it would have been like to have been “one of the guys”. What would it have been like to have sleep overs and touch my friends dick, or give him a hand/blow job or even just cuddle? If I hadn’t been the one visible gay kid growing up, would I have been able to have sex earlier? If I had been having sex earlier, would I be a different person today? If so, how would I be different? I wouldn’t consider myself sexually repressed at all… but I don’t ever picture myself ever ‘settling down’ with one (or a couple group) person (or people), or even being able to say ‘I love you’ to a partner(s) and maybe that would be different if I had been intimate with people earlier in life.
I spent most of my life waiting for everyone around me to come to terms with who they were, so that they could be seen associating with me… how did that impact my life? On the surface, I know it made me very lonely… how what else would be different about me today?
I’ve had this thing for 4 years now and I’ve all but abandoned it. Not actively abandoned it, but I just sort of drifted away. I think about TSF a lot (nearly every day, actually) and what it has been for me over these past years. It’s been incredibly helpful to have something to dump thoughts and emotions into, when I don’t have someone around to serve that purpose. I feel like it’s helped me work through a lot of things. I feel like I appreciate it more than I maybe appreciate many other things in my life. How was I able to abandon it so easily? What does that say about me?
I went out to dinner with my dad and mother the other night and it was, as you already know, terrible. After two glasses of wine, she stumbled into the day spa next to the Thai place we were eating and demanded botox. My dad and I had to pull her out of the day spa and the entire drive home she cried and just kept repeating “I want to get botox”. Eventually she started sobbing more and yelled that she wanted botox because she felt ugly and this very moment, I felt sadder for her than I have felt for her, over these past 10 years of understanding that she is an alcoholic. My first reaction was to hate her. To hate her for making me feel any emotion towards her, other than disgust. But, that quickly went away and I didn’t hate her, but felt so, so incredibly sad for her I just wanted to hug her and tell her everything would be okay.
Of course, the days of things possibly having a chance of becoming “okay” are long gone. My mother is so gone that I truly believe the only comfort she will ever feel again, is death. She isn’t able or willing to acknowledge her addition and she is married to a man who doesn’t know what to do, other than ignore everything. I hate that it has become this, but I can only see my mother as a burden on my father and I can’t help but to be excited for him, when I imagine a time without her. I don’t know how he feels about this, but I would have trouble imagine him being sad over her death. The quirky, fun loving, spontaneous, stoner California surfer girl he married died years ago. I have to wonder if my birth is what killed her, or if maybe it was a slow death that started with my birth. It possibly had nothing to do with me being born. Either way, I don’t really care.
And that’s the end of another up-beat TSF post. It would be easy to say I want to write here more (again), but apparently it’s hard to me. I’ll try, I promise. That’s the best I can do.