So Your Kid Wants A Fidget Spinner

Alright parents, listen up. I may not be a parent, nor do I ever plan to become one, but I’ve been around kids enough to know better. My boyfriend has a nephew and niece, and I worked at a daycare once upon a time. So open your eyes and ears a little bit and kindly pay attention. Because I’m a little annoyed.

So your kid wants a fidget spinner. GREAT! If they need it, awesome, perfect, that’s great for them. If they don’t need it, then okay it’s just something to keep them busy, sure. You’re the parent, you get to decide. What you DON’T get to decide is the kind of spinner  they should have. Because this should just be a given.

 

You know those colorful fidget spinners you can get at Walmart for a cheap $5 or $6? The plastic ones that come in array of colors, patterns, and designs? Those ones that just capture your child’s eye and make them beg because they’re so colorful and cool? Those are the ones you should be getting. Those are the ones geared towards kids about 5 to 16(ish). And they’re colorful and neat and have designs and patterns for that very reason. Because those are the ones meant for tiny, clumsy, child hands.

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Not. Heavy. Sharp. Metal. Objects.

If you want your kid to play with a heavy, sharp metal object then just give them scissors and let them go to town. Because if you’re getting your kid spinners like those, then I mean what’s the difference? Scissors spin just the same.

Now I’m only super aggressively salty about this because it’s happened in the last week. Twice. My boyfriend’s nephew picked out a spinner that came in the mail. I couldn’t find an accurate photo and it’s packed away somewhere in my five bags for a road trip we’re going on, but this is as accurate as I could find.

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It was bought off Wish and he picked it out. Because it looked cool. So when it arrived, my boyfriend opened the packages for his mother (who bought it) and immediately came over to me once it was opened. He showed it to me at first stating he didn’t think that was a good idea. Then I took it from him and felt it for myself.

Folks, this thing was as heavy and sharp as they came (so I thought at the time . . . more on that coming right up). The picture I have here is very similar, however. The one we got is silver, had four openings with the pointed ends very much exposure and could touch and serrated on the top like dragon spikes or scales or whatever you want to call it. We did not feel at all comfortable letting him have it, knowing he’d take it to school once it was time and get in major trouble, or one of the neighbor kids would grab it from him and probably dick around with it. This thing could HURT. And in the matter of five minutes we had it, it’d been dropped almost on my boyfriend’s foot and it would have bruised something bad.

So we told my boyfriend’s mother, of course, that was a terrible idea and we’ll take it and use it. But he’d picked it out and was waiting for it. And if it didn’t show up, he would be upset and probably try to order it again.

See . .  my thing is. It doesn’t matter. If it’s too dangerous for a seven year old, that’s the final line of it. He can’t have it, he can pick out something else that isn’t heavy, metal, and sharp. Those types of spinners are for , well , collecting unfortunately. Or at the very least, young adults 18-20 something who hopefully wouldn’t abuse it or take it to school or whatever. Some might still, sure, but kids are unpredictable and clumsy. It wasn’t safe.

A few days later, we got . . . . this thing.

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This is even sharper than the first one, but less heavy. You can’t even spin it normally, you have to put your finger through the hole to do it. Apparently, the nephew’s mother picked this one out because again. IT LOOKED COOL.

My friends, I shouldn’t have to say this twice. But again, we opened it and my boyfriend told HIS mom that his nephew cannot have that one either. Regardless of if the boy’s mom picked it out or not. These things he cannot have! I said it earlier: they make the plastic, colorful, bright and fun pattern ones for a reason. I know kids want “cool” things and pick out stuff like this. But as an adult and especially as a PARENT you have to absolutely put your foot down. These things can be dangerous and used as weapons or cause accidental injury.

So if it happens, unfortunately it IS on you. The adult.

Don’t buy your young children these types of spinners, please, I am begging you. You are the adult here. You make the decisions for your children 90% of the time. Don’t let this be the one thing you slip up. Be fuckin’ smart about fidget spinners for your young children. There are so many more by the dozens of thousands out there you can buy. They’re literally EVERYWHERE right now, so it’s not hard to find safe spinners for your kids.

 

 

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New Beginnings, Old Ghosts

Let me set the scene for you.

You finally have what you’ve been looking for the last two years. You have amazing friends, and a place to live with them. It’s a BEAUTIFUL apartment for what it’s worth. Needs some cleaning and additions for more space to do things, but it’s perfect and just what you all need. You’re super excited to get back and start your life for real again. With real family. With real friends.

But then the nervousness sets in. The fear, the anxiety, and the worry. All of it comes flooding back over your head within the waters you’ve been treading for so long. Wave after wave just knocks over your head, threatening you to be pulled under. When all you’re trying to do is wade a little longer, keep your head up a little higher to breathe, and finally swim to shore on that island that has been far away from your sight for too long.

That’s where I am right now.

I’m heading back upstate on June 16th. I’m going on a very much needed and fun road trip with my boyfriend, cat, and two of my best friends (not the ones I’m living with currently). It’s going to be amazing, and once I get back home, I will have a new place to live, with old friends. It couldn’t be more perfect and yes, I am so over the moon excited. But I’m terrified. And this . . . this should be expected.

See, in the last two years I’ve been couch hopping. I’ve had problems with my past three room-mates, all of which were so fucking stupid I can’t wrap my head around it all still. None of which was by any means of my own fault. But they’re all going to tell you that differently. My name’s been splattered, stepped on, stretched out, and tacked all over town as this Monster. This person nobody can trust or be a room-mate with. And that scares me more than anything.

While I know that the people I currently am housed with would hopefully never drop kick me like the last three, I still have that stupid ass lingering fear. Because of what happened. And that’s really sad, if you think about it. Three wonderful friends I love and trust with all my heart who I know would never hurt me. Who I couldn’t even imagine having any major issues with. Who I couldn’t even begin to think that I would have to leave so suddenly for some dumbass reason. But old wounds don’t heal so fast. Old ghosts don’t leave you alone so soon. It was around this time last year that I had my most recently removed room-mate. It was the same exact scenario. It was the same song and dance.

I had nowhere to go. I had someone willing to take me in. They were looking for me while out of state. They found something. I came home. I moved in. And it was June-July 2016. It is all. Coming. Back. And it fucking terrifies me.

Like I said, I know it’s not the exact same. These people have been nothing but kind to me. They are a part of my family that I’ve built. They care about me. They love me. They know about my past situations (oh do they ever know and understand). But you have to realize. When it all comes flooding back so fast and so familiar, it’s hard NOT to panic. It’s hard NOT to feel scared. It’s all normal (I think), and it’s all something that I hope they understand, as well as my boyfriend. It’s  . . . it’s just so great and so scary all at the same time. I hate walking on eggshells around people, but I have before and I won’t surprise myself if I do it again for the first few weeks or month. And this, I also hope, they understand.

I have such a problem with asking people for things. For rides, for grocery pick ups, for money if I need it . . . because of past issues with my boyfriend’s parents, my own ex-relatives, my ex-roomies, and so on. It’s something that I’m working on, but every time I get flung back and don’t open my mouth, it seems to be the cause of problems. Then again, whenever I do open my mouth, it causes issues anyway. So I never know what’s right and what’s wrong. So I usually wait for people to come to ME. To ask ME if I need anything. Most times I say no, of course, but. Asking people for / to do things is terrifying to me. And I know where it comes from, of course. But for this, I will be doing my very best to just . . . speak. To voice when something is wrong. To voice when I need something. To voice a concern. To voice . . . anything I should. And hope that it doesn’t blow up like a ticking time bomb in my face all over again.

I’m excited. I can’t wait to be home. I can’t wait to HAVE A HOME finally after two years. But it’s scary. Moving alone is anxiety ridden and scary. But I’m stacking this on top of so many other things. And it’s hard. It really is.

So, yes. Here’s to new beginnings. Here’s to everything I could have hoped for and wanted. Here’s to a fresh start to a 50-50 year so far. Here’s to what I hope to be, a stable home for at least another year or two. Here’s to just everything I have wanted for the last two years and struggled for. It’s new beginnings with old ghosts.

I just hope I can keep those old ghosts away.

Happy Pride. To All.

It’s Pride Month, 2017 so here we go!

My name is Jeremy. I also go by Brandon , and I also like going by Sloane. My online names can be lordbatty or jacksonngalaxyy. I’m an up and coming Drag Princess by the name of River Styxx. I am going to be 26 years old, I am a female to male pretty boy transguy. I was on testosterone for almost 3 years before a tumor was found and we had to treat that first and foremost. I recently had top surgery (March 9th, 2017) and currently almost 3 months post op.

I want to be a writer. I also want to be a cat behaviorist. I LOVE COFFEE. I love the weather/tornadoes and I want to storm chase at least once in my life. I am fascinated by seahorses. I love going camping. I adore cats. I like to wear makeup sometimes. I talk too loudly sometimes. I am disabled in more ways than you could think up. sometimes I have trouble speaking my feelings. I have depression. I have anxiety. I have an eating disorder. I love anything between Ariana Grande to Krewella. I want to visit Italy some day.

But above everything else, I am Human. Just like everyone else. i have likes, dislikes, relationships, friends, dreams, aspirations, ups and downs.

I also have some of the best friends in the world. I’m friends with drag queens, drag kings, genderfluid people, trans people, gay, lesbian, bisexual, and every in between. They are my family. They are the people who mean the most to me in the whole world. And even though I’ve only known most of them for a year, it feels like I’ve known them for a lifetime. I’m always so … grateful for them. I’m always happy to see them. I’m always so amazed at the family I have created, formed, grown with, and have come to see as nothing but that. Family. My true family.

I also have a great boyfriend and a very personable cat. Both of which , I wouldn’t be here today without. We’ve been together for 4 ½ years and Dylan’s been in my life for 7 years. Between me and my boyfriend, we’ve been through a lot together. And no, not always good. It’s been several ups and downs. It’s also been several amazing days. We’ve had so much happen in the last 4 years and in that time, we’ve grown a lot together and as our own persons. It’s been amazing to see the growth we’ve both had and learning from mistakes, victories, and losses. I love him so much and never did I think I would have such a growing, lasting, long-term, fun, challenging relationship that I do have. And it’s been one of the most rewarding, realest, enriching loves I’ve ever come across in dating.

I’ve traveled around a lot with Dylan. We’ve hopped from plane to plane, car to car, home to home, never knowing where we’ll be or what we will be doing. But we’ve stuck together and he’s been an amazing support animal for me. We support each other, and he has been there for me when I didn’t have anyone or didn’t know what was going to happen or where to turn to.

If you’d have asked pre-transition me where I would be in the next 5 years I would have probably said ‘I don’t know’ or ‘Dead, probably.’ I didn’t know I could have a life outside of … what I grew up with. I didn’t know these wonderful people I now call my family existed. I didn’t know I could BE trans. I didn’t know there was someone out there waiting for me to date and love all of me. I didn’t know I could … BE ME. I didn’t know, and never in a million lifetimes here or now, did I think that in five years … I would still be here, even. never did I think I would find the friends I have today. Never did I think I would transition. never did I think I would even be doing DRAG.

So many bad things have happened in the  last just TWO years (ie. tumor/cancer, being off my shots, countless legal actions against me for being trans, removing my ex-relatives from my life completely was the most recent thing I did, being homeless and couch hopping for almost 2 years, more money/legal issues for being trans, etc), but sometimes I have to try and step back and look at all of the good things and try to hold onto those and think about it.

Good things like top surgery!, embracing my pretty boy nature and saying ‘fuck gender roles, I’m still a man. I can wear whatever the fuck I want and still be me’, stepping my foot into doing Drag and actually landing an official show, surrounding myself with the good people I do have and getting rid of those who just didn’t have a place in my life, cutting off toxic relationships (ie. the ex-relatives), having an ally within the family I can see and trust and talk to , finally landing an apartment with some of the friends I love, getting most of the legal actions taken care of for good, and so much more.

This Pride Month is so much more different for me, in a good way. I can celebrate out, loud, and proud. I can celebrate being me. I can celebrate being trans. I can celebrate my friends, my family, my boyfriend. I can celebrate my top surgery. I can celebrate … so much of me that I have come to see and know. I’ve grown a lot. I’ve seen a lot. I’ve learned a lot. And there’s so much more to that.

This Pride Month is so much better for me. And I am just so happy and grateful for not only my personal self-growth, but for my boyfriend’s, for my friends’ . . I’m grateful for the LGBTQ center as my home and the people who work there and go there.

This Pride Month, for me personally, is such a great one.

And remember if you can’t come out yet or live loud and proud or celebrate openly, that’s okay. Five years ago, I never even had a thought to Pride anything. Because I couldn’t. Five years goes a long way, and I’ve both lived and seen it. Don’t ever check it off. Don’t ever think you won’t get there. Because I certainly never did.

And now I have the biggest LGBTQ circle I’ve ever experienced in my almost 20+ years of life.

Don’t give up. Happy Pride to all. You mean the world to someone.

❤️💛💚💙💜

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Continue reading “Happy Pride. To All.”

You’ve Made Your War. Now I’m Making My Peace. Now I’m Taking My Stand.

This post is a letter. It’s a LONG letter. There is a video embedded. It deals heavily with personal issues. It deals heavily with me calling out bullshit, abuse, and horrible behavior. Please use caution when reading this entry

Contains: transphobia, homophobia, “being not prejudice”, no fucks given, and mentions of abuse (mental/emotional) ~ be warned the video have heavy themes of religion, transphobia, homophobia, touchy subjects, harsh discussion, and just blatant rudeness. if the video content DOES NOT WORK, please tell me in the comments, i can work on fixing it if possible.

If you’re joining me for this ride, thank you. I hope that this helps more people in my situation to realize the gravity of how some “family” treats their LGBTQ relatives. I hope this helps you find peace of mind, and I hope that it helps you realize that it is okay to cut ties and move on.

Always be you. Always be happy.

And always remember, there’s someone out there who truly does care and love you for who you are as a person.

Let’s proceed ♥

*                        *                                     *

Before we press on, I want to make this point as clear as I possibly can. This will be the last time you hear from me. Do not call me, do not text me. Do not look me up on facebook, do not send me any emails. Do not ask around looking for me. Do not ask around trying to contact me. Don’t ask about me, don’t even think of me. Erase me from your existence. Because from what I know to be true, you already have.

Now. Let’s move on.


Let’s start with the graduation party. You have to be some kind of special ridiculousness to pull a stunt like that and not think that I would hear about it or notice. Heck, you even fuckin’ invited me in the midst of some fifty other people you know would not be nice to me. Don’t exactly know what you were trying to do there, other than probably look polite or look nice in the eyes of everyone, but it was pretty low. And that’s not even the lowest part of all that.

To the fact that you purposely placed it on my birthday is nothing short of atrocious. Back that up with you didn’t even ASK to have it at Pam’s house in the first place. Back that up even more with when asked about said party and why you all picked that day and whatnot, people couldn’t even be looked in the eyes when stammering over a “explanation”. I don’t know how you could even be okay with that, but I guess it doesn’t matter since, you know, you only have one child now and that child sure as hell isn’t me.

Which brings me to my next point. Hearing word that you have only one child and Becca doesn’t have a sibling. That’s even lower, and insanely disgusting. You told me once  that ‘we wouldn’t disown you’. Well I’m not sure what you’re calling it in your twisted little world, but I would say that’s a huge red flag right there. Hand in hand with slathering a graduation party right over my birthday like a brand new shiny poster covering up an old, tattered one left on the wall for a few days. Not only am I disgusted and can’t wrap my head around it, but nobody can. Not Bobby’s parents, not my friends, not people I’ve talked to who agree with me on EVERYTHING I am saying but can’t open their mouths about, and definitely not my therapist. Which will bring me onto another point in a few moments. But sit tight, I’m sure you’ve made it this far.

Oh. One more thing:

If you’re pissed off at my “rude tone”/”bad attitude” well then sorry too bad. I have the right to this and I’ve been quiet for far too long. Enough is enough and this ends now. I’m done being quiet. I’m actually being really polite, all things considered. I could have written worse. And you know it.

Before I get to the therapist portion, as if the birthday-graduation party thing wasn’t enough, your horribly ill-mannered reaction to my telling you I have a tumor and basically have to take treatment pills every week to combat the tumor / cancer . . . I don’t even know where to begin with that. At first, I wasn’t even going to bother telling anyone because I knew it would not matter. Nobody was going to give a flying fuck. Not like everyone else did who’d come to the house twice, sat with me, talked to me, took me out, and tried to help me forget about it. Who helped buy my $30 medication for said treatment. Who checks in on me REGULARLY both in person and messaging. I haven’t heard snippet of anyone in how long? Weeks? I don’t hear jack unless I message first and honestly, I don’t like to in the long run.

But back to the tumor conversation. It was baffling to myself and so many people that you first only commented on me flying and how could I fly with a tumor. THEN went so far as to say that surgery probably shouldn’t have happened with the tumor if they’d have found it in the bloodwork, which they did. Then didn’t comment for several seconds or minutes until you decided to say Becca had a MRI and didn’t like it. Which … didn’t even relate to the topic much at all and was totally derailed. And your favorite sentence repeated several times (“K”) and basically that was that until flight day. I merely told you out of courtesy for your guys’ health since I knew there had been imbalances in the past. But honestly? What courtesy do I owe anyone with the way I’m treated?

I don’t even know how to properly comprehend the conversation. If your child comes to you saying “Hey I have cancer/a tumor and this and that” . . . you don’t react so poorly. So bland. But then again. I’m not anyone’s child anymore, so I guess that makes more sense now, doesn’t it? It just simply does not matter.

I’m saving the worst (best) for last, so I’ll just move onto the therapist part.

I’m seeing a therapist. Weekly. Maybe more if I have to. To get rid of all this fucked up mental and emotional abuse I’ve stacked up over the last who knows years. And yeah, I know what  everyone’s thinking or saying already. “WE NEVER ABUSED YOU HOW COULD YOU SAY THAT?! WE HAVE ALWAYS DONE EVERYTHING FOR YOU. YOU DIDN’T HAVE IT BAD.”

Well then. Let me just pull out my notebook of receipts and take you on this ride even further.

Everyone’s living in 1991. I’m not that sick little child anymore who needs 300 doctors, has this or that, needs this or that. I’ve done so well on my own in the last few years and I’m proud of it. I’ve become healthy enough to not need the GTube. I dropped so many medications. I haven’t needed to go on multiple doctor excursions since North Carolina. I’m so tired of everyone living in the past and “you almost died when you were born”, “you don’t know what we’ve done for you over the years”, etc etc etc. I’m not talking about then. Ever. I’m talking about NOW. How I’m treated and looked at NOW. How disgusting and twisted and distorted your views on “family” is NOW. It’s honestly toxic and damaging to everyone. But of course, you’ll never see that. You’re all so perfect. You’re all so loving, polite, and caring. Let me tell you something. Bobby’s parents have been more accepting, kind, caring, and TRYING than you in the last seven years I’ve been out. And they’ve only known me shy of four years with being with Bobby. So I mean. You can’t blame it on generational stuff. You can’t even blame it on religion anymore. It’s purely personal now. And that’s horrific.

Emotional and mental abuse are real, whether you wanna believe you weren’t horrible parents/relatives or not. You may have never hit me, but that doesn’t matter. It’s just as real, and it’s just as damaging. And you will have no idea, because you refuse to believe it.

And all of this and more? Oh, it’s going to take many, many, many years to sort out and let go of and stop. It’s going to take lots of therapy. It’s going to take my friends, my boyfriend (yeah that’s right. We aren’t lesbians. We aren’t girlfriends. But you know what? That just goes right along with EVERYTHING else, doesn’t it?), and the people I’ve known for just a year that have become way more family than you have in the last seven. You know who’s messaged me in the last year? You know who’s called? Who’s come to the house to see me? Who’s helped me with food and money? That’s right.

I used to think religion was a huge factor and it is. But it’s also a mask. You use it to justify your actions, your behaviors, and your overall life and what “family” is to you. Family to you is people who have done everything for you, who X, Y, and Z. Who are forced into sticking around. Who are guilted, gaslighted, manipulated, and lied to. Your twisted senses of reality around you and what you define as family is . . . alarming. You know what family is????

  • Family are people who show up at your house when you need them to. Who want to hang out with you, who help you with monetary necessities, who take you to where you need to go, and who house you and not ask for much in return.
  • Family are people who DON’T treat you like a display or a science fair project to be “woooowwwww”ed and “i can’t even believe it” over and ask you about every little thing about yourself and gender, what bathroom you use, why you do that, when do you do this, why surgery, why that, i hope you change back and change your attitude, etc etc ; when they aren’t being educated at all, they’re just being them and looking to pick arguments.
  • Family are people you can talk to any time of the day about heavy stuff, bad stuff, good stuff, and who will carry you through every single bad and good thing and not remind you ENDLESSLY about “well when you were sick and in the hospital we did X Y and Z for you”. no. they support you in THAT time and we move on with life, better or worse. (stated previously)
  • Family is what you make it. I’ve made mine. I know who they are. I know their names. I see their faces. I know how they treat me. I know that they REALLY are the ones who love and care for me.


I  know who my family is.

I suggest that you better shape up yours.

 

Onto my next point. A video. Recorded a year ago TODAY (May 16th, 2016). Only few knew about this at first, but my god. It’s the worst thing anyone could ever lay ears on. So let’s dive a little further.

That is, if you’ve made it this far.

 

I can also account for several different occasions to where this isn’t the only time in the last two years. The first time I decided to dress less than feminine, I was told that I wouldn’t be taken out in public “looking like that”. At the time, it’s ironic, that you had stood up for me saying it was “just clothes”. But as soon as I find my true self and come forth with it, it’s a problem. It’s not just clothes anymore. Now it’s some huge ordeal and issue that I need to snap out of and go to therapists and church for. It’s kind of laughable.

The summer we went to North Carolina for the first time to meet everyone? I remember the one thing that was said to me was “If you’re going to be together and chose this life, why does one of you have to be the boy?” Can’t shake that one off, and you can’t argue that one, either.

When I came out as lesbian first, and was dating Sam and all of that stupidness happened? The one thing I remember that was said to me, again, was “You know what the Bible says about that.” I lived in fear of going out in public with you guys, around church people, around Mark and everyone else the years following that until I was able to move out and be my own person. The time Julie ended up sending you emails and causing unneeded chaos after I really did (sort of) come out as trans? That was the end of it. It was one of the reasons, yes, I did move to NC. It was one of several reasons.

More recently, when I was living back in Poland last summer. Nobody wanted to take me out in public. Nobody wanted to take me to the store, the movies with them (which prompted the argument in said video because Becca didn’t want me to go to the movies with her), camping, etc. I was barely talked to or engaged unless it was for dinner, to argue about something stupid, or ask me questions about this or that. Minor things, whatever. Not the point. I was an embarrassment to everyone, and it was made very very fuckin’ clear to me. Nobody had to say anything. And the only reason I had to come back was because of all that bullshit with Shauna and Zack. Otherwise, I wouldn’t have made that choice on my own. Brings me to my next point:

Not only that, but I’ve pretty much been couch hopping and homeless for the last two years (since I left Poland in Sept 2016-now). Because I refuse to step foot in that house or even in Poland for that matter. I refuse to be around this . . . toxic environment that’s been created. Not only surrounding me and my life, but literally everything else that has been going on. It should say something to you that I would rather have the stress of not knowing where I will be tomorrow or even the next months or weeks than be there. That should speak volumes. But I doubt it will. Since you all seem to be such upstanding model citizens and “family”. Still, it should at least make you think a little.

Really, though, the thing that broke it all for me and is the end all to be all was the whole graduation party debacle. That and claiming that you only have one child/she’s the only child. That’s really . . . dense. I don’t know how you can act like that, then still claim “we love you no matter what”, “we don’t support your life, but we still love you, you’re still family”. That’s not family. That’s not human. That’s disgusting. And I’ll say it again and again, whether you get it through your heads or not.

You’ve created such a toxic hole in the floor that people are literally going left and right to get away from it. Like I said, don’t be surprised that I’ve heard things. That I know what’s going on. We’ve always been drama seekers/starters/involving ourselves in each other’s business and causing problems. I just can’t believe that someone would stoop so low as to literally throw me away like I don’t exist. Not only from one person, but from several. This is not an isolated incident. And you can’t claim it otherwise. This has been going on for a while. And you can’t say it hasn’t.

Nobody should go to this length to make sure that they are embarrassed about their child/family member. Nobody should take such drastic, dramatic, argumentative, horrific measures that have been taken here. Nobody should be that ashamed of their child / relative PERIOD.

And I know that not a one of you are going to see it that way. But of course I’ll be in the wrong. Because of course ‘you’re the one living this life, so of course you’re not going to see it’. At this point, it’s far far far beyond any excuses and any stupid reason you have for behaving this way. It’s personal at this point. Otherwise, you wouldn’t have totally erased my birthday on purpose. And Becca wouldn’t mention that she’s an only child. This is too far gone and I have no reason to press further into trying to mend any form of relationship at all. I shouldn’t have to feel pressured into talking to anyone because “we’re still family”. I am an adult, and who I chose to keep in my life is my choice alone. Releasing toxicity and negativity is something I’ve learned to do. And I’m doing it now. No more silence, no more appeasing you, no more tip-toeing. I’ve had it and I’m ending it here. I’m sick and tired of playing nice, and I’m done.

You can take with this what you will. I know everyone’s going to get pissed off about it and say every little bad thing about me. That’s fine. Say what you want. If you want to make me out to be this bad person over and over and over again by saying things that are fucking 100% true, then that’s your problem. If you wanna say bad, nasty, mean things about me and call me out, then do it. Just know I won’t be around to hear it, so it’ll fall on deaf and also manipulated ears. People will take your side, sure. But I know very well who’s on mine. Video was proof enough to my friends, to Bobby, to just about anyone who’s seen it that this is exactly the way I am treated. And it’s gone on long enough, and it’s not one isolated incident.

I don’t have to excuse or forgive anyone. Have it your twisted Christian way, sure, but I don’t have to forgive my abusers. I don’t have to subject myself to “well they were nice sometimes”. Sometimes nice and sometimes supportive and sometimes doing things for me doesn’t excuse behavior. It never will, and I don’t have to kneel before you just because of reason X, Y, Z, done this or that for you. It was done out of ‘well I have to’ , or more or less so  that you looked like the pretty, polite, kind family you so desperately want for the world to see. Sure, before you did things for me because you loved me once. But recently in the last, oh, seven or so years? Not so much. It became routine to just do things for me, talk to me on holidays only, and respond to messages only when  I engaged first. It became robotic. And for a while, I tolerated it. For a while, I thought it was something. Now it’s just . . . intolerable. It fucking hurts, the way everyone’s did me wrong. And if you want to deny it, then fine. But I’m not going to be expected to hold on much longer. I’m cutting the rope, and I’m dotting my last i and crossing my last t.

Maybe someday you’ll change your attitudes. And then we can talk. But if not, then I don’t know what to tell you or what to say to you.

Life’s funny sometimes, but I know I can at least do something about some of the things that are happening. This is one of them. This is my first step into a lighter future. Lighter, happier, and real. I’ve only met a handful of my friends since last year, and in addition to Bobby and his parents. They all have done so much more for me, loved me, and supported me than that I’ve had in the last who knows when from any of you. I’m shocked at the overwhelming amount of . . . love and hope and support and family that I have found and made my own. It’s so much more than I could have ever thought possible. Even though it’s been a shit two years for me, I’ve had fun. I’ve had experiences I never ever ever would have dreamt I could because of your anti-world, anti-lgbt, anti-everything way of thinking. I have more friends than I ever had growing up. I can go places I never knew existed. I have community. I have life. I have family. I don’t need your twisted, destructive views on what family is.

So think about that. Think about what I said. Think about how I’m feeling. If you even want to. Think about how twisted and sad this all sounds. Really look at yourselves, if you can. You have to have some sort of humility. You have to have some kind of little voice in your head that is fucking telling you that you are very wrong here. You gotta have some kind of conscious to even have made the decisions you have made and said the things you have. You may think I’m being rude and have a tone and I’m attacking you, but listen. You have got to know even just a little bit in the deepest, farthest, darkest reaches of your mind that you’ve placed in a little box. That I’m right. And that you hurt me far more than you care to admit. You’re all human here. Strip away religion, ways of life, personalities . . . we’re all human. You have to know that. And if you don’t, then I feel sorry for you.

As I said in the beginning, this will be the last time you’ll hear from me. Maybe if everyone shapes up their attitude in a few years, we can sit down like adults and talk. Maybe I can forgive you, maybe not. Maybe nothing will be restored ever again. Whatever the case may be, and whatever happens just know that I did this for me. I had hoped for seven plus long years that things would change. That maybe I could salvage something if I worked harder at it. If I talked to you more. If I came over sometimes. If I invited you to come say hey. If I messaged you. If I called. Everything began to fall on deaf ears. And in between giving bland fucks about the tumor situation and the graduation party, and claiming that there was only one child????

Well. That was probably the push I needed to get to this point. I had hoped, maybe another year to try. And I could work on either just letting go quietly, slowly, and politely. Not so much, sadly. You’ve picked this battle, and I’m sorry that you think so lowly of me as you all do. I’m sorry that you had to go this route of destruction and hate. And I am sorry that you chose this.

I was, at one point, willing to work with everyone. I was willing to try and be nice. I had been nice, in fact. Which is why I argued so strongly in said video and tried to help people understand left and right. Just treat me like a fucking person. But no, you couldn’t even do that. So I’m done being pushed around, questioned, being silenced, being hidden, and being afraid. You may tell people there’s only one child, but they’re not stupid. I’m out there still, (and I really hope you haven’t told people I moved away, ran off, died, or some other horrible cover up story for saying “I’m an only child”, “I only have one child”, “I don’t have a sibling”. You could have fashioned any story at this point. Unless you truly are dumb enough to tell people you have disowned me for good. But people would probably applaud you for that ANYWAY) and you can’t hide that. You cannot hide the fact I am alive, I exist, and I am loud. You cannot dim this light, and you never will. I want you to remember that. I want you to live that.

To end this, there are points below. I don’t care who read this entire thing first, I have some small words. So here we go.

Tracy: Most of this was for you. So if you read this first, then I don’t have anything further to say.

Ajay: Good luck to you, honestly. I mean it.

Becca:  I don’t even know what to say to you. I’m hurt, mostly. That’s mostly what I can say.

Pam: Keep doing what you’re doing.

Everyone else: I’m sure you’ve all read this by now in full. Most of it was for you, too. If you’ve watched the video, I’m not sorry for it. I needed to record it. I needed people to see what was happening. I needed to document what garbage it all was. I needed to show my hurt. I’ve nothing more to say here, either.

So that’s it. I’ve said what I had to. Now it’s on your shoulders. It’s up to you what you do from here. But like I said, I’m cutting the ties right now. I’ve had enough, and it’s time for me to move forward. This is the final word, and I will have the final word here and now. You can argue with everyone else about this, you can say what you want. But I will not and do not want to hear it. I will not subject myself back into the endless cycle I so desperately tried to get myself out of. I’ve crawled here, fought here, and managed to get this far. Writing this was anxiety inducing because I know exactly how the reaction is going to be. But it was a push in the right direction from my therapist, my friends, and more importantly to myself. I’d been lying to myself for so long about trying to make things right. I ended up hurting myself over and over again. Now I’m fed up and hurt even more.

All I can say is it that it was the right push.

No need to thank me. It’s what you wanted, after all, isn’t it?

So you’re welcome.

-Jeremy

 

Dear Mother’s Day

I see you there with your cutesy ads on tv and you’re cozy feelings about mom loves you no matter what you are, who you become, or what you’ve done. I see you in loving gift giving, hugs, kisses, ‘I love you’s’ and all the things you’re supposed to see, do, and have on this day.

I see you, but more than anything. You don’t see us.

You don’t see the kids like me, (or even adults, let’s be real here) who don’t have today to celebrate. We don’t have a mother to celebrate, or even a motherly figure. Whether she’s parted long ago, been abusive to you, or just isn’t in your life for any reason at all. Mother’s Day is not for everyone and for kids like me, it’s a day we fear the most. It’s a day we rather not discuss. And it’s a day we really don’t want to acknowledge.

Sadly, some of you may have to acknowledge your mother on this day, even if you don’t want to. Maybe she’s gaslighting you. Maybe she’s making you because “you have to love me, I’m your mother” or “I’ve done everything for you, and you act like I’m the most horrible person in the world?” If this is the case, I am truly sorry and I hope you can get through the day as smoothly as possible. I’ve been there, believe me. I have been there time and time again. And I hope someday soon, you’ll be able to get out of it.

For many others, like myself, especially if you’re LGBTQ+, it’s hard as well. I’m unraveling years of abuse from Tracy and in recent light of events (despite CONSTANT “we would never disown you” in the last few years of me coming out as trans), suddenly I’m not even her child anymore (stated in more recent blogs). So for this reason, it’s bitter. I’m bitter. I’m angry. As much as I don’t give a fuck anymore about her and her fucking thoughts and views on who I am as a person, much less not even her fuckin’ child anymore, it still sucks on this day. Because while everyone else is posting long statuses with photos, and heartfelt comments and greetings to their mother, I’m left sitting here despising my own and wondering why the fuck she couldn’t just be an adult and love me anyway. And I’m wondering why I still fucking care so much when I shouldn’t. If this is the same case for you on this day, then know you’re not alone. Like myself, there’s so many of us who are hateful and bitter and hurting today. It’s okay. Don’t be ashamed of that. Today is not the day for your m*ther if she’s been as hurtful and abusive as Tracy.

Maybe your mother has passed on, whether recent or many many years ago. If this is the case for you, I am sorry for your loss. I hope today goes by smoothly for you, too, and that you can think about happy memories you’ve had with your mom and smile. While it may be hard, I hope that you can remember the good times, even some bad if it comes with a bit of good, and find a way to honor her on this day. May you find light and love this year, and every year that follows.

Dear Mother’s Day: today is not for everyone and I wish that more people understood that. Whether it is for the reasons above or even if you have two moms and of course the media doesn’t show that enough in their commercials. Take the time for YOU today, no matter what your reason is. Play a video game if you can, listen to some of your favorite music, watch some YouTube, watch some cartoons. Turn off the tv because all of the commercials are just . . . stifling. Do something for YOU today, either after you have loved your mother if she’s with you, you’ve been forced to interact with your mother if she’s abusive and negative, or you’ve honored your mother if she’s passed. Please take a few hours , if you can , for you today as well. Your mental and emotional health is just as important as celebrating this day. No matter what your standing is with your mom.

To everyone on this day who maybe isn’t having it the best: please don’t feel bad about today. Don’t feel guilty about hating the day. And please do remember to care for yourself. Everything you think or feel is human, especially on days surrounding relatives or parents. Don’t ever feel like you’re obligated to love someone just because they’re, well, “family”.

So no, I do not celebrate today  Will I ever one day with maybe a mother figure or something? Maybe, I don’t know. But for now, I rather not think about it too much if I can help it. Maybe the years will get better as they go by. Maybe it won’t bother me so much as I get older. Maybe it won’t even register that it’s a special holiday, just a normal weekday. At least, that is my hope for now.

In ending,

Dear Mother’s Day:

Please don’t forget about the rest of us.

 

Look To Your Writers

I really want to try to get more of my writing out there, but I am just unsure of how to do it. And the problem is that I can’t promise to produce updates on a certain day or time of a week every single week. Sadly this is mostly due to medical and life stuff coming and going that I can’t always often handle or control. Though, I write generally enough, I think, and would really like to try and push myself out more into the writing world whether it’s original content, blogging, or heck even fanfic is enough for me from time to time.

And I also generally feel like it’s just hard to make it as a writer anywhere, even for freelance/fun because it’s written works. Often times, it gets glazed over online if it isn’t in book form. You go to a bookstore to read and pick up/buy books to have and to hold and put on your tables and shelves. You can’t exactly do that with online writings. Though, when I was younger I used to print out full ass copies of my favorite fanfics, blog writings, or even stuff from like Buzzfeed and Huffpost to read and keep in my hands. It just feels good to have something in your hands that’s written. And I get that so so much. I can’t necessarily say that’s why perhaps us writers online get looked over (it could also be very much a popularity standpoint or a career aspect, too), but it’s the same sense as well, to me, as with Smalltubers. So many people get looked over who have tremendous talent. But it seems that unless you’re big in name, have lots of money, or are living live rich and prosperous in general or just are generally popular among fandoms or websites that people know . . . well, it’s just a snuff of light for the rest of us who can’t even seem to get a ticket in.

Right now, for example, as it stands, I am working on several fics, some more WordPress write ups, and on the side, some original things. They’re all being worked on, I just can’t ever promise when they will be up and public. And while that may be my downfall, reminder that I’m doing my writing for free. So, realistically speaking, my deadline and timeline are my own. Honestly, if I could crank out stuff every week twice a week, I would. But sometimes I just don’t have the energy or the motivation to do so. Sometimes writer’s block happens. But as it stands, I write because I love it and it’s my passion. The reason I would love to put myself out there more is for others to connect with my words for themselves, or connect with me.

Sometimes I do what I can but it seems like it’s just so … disinterested in. And not to say I’m writing for others. But it is always nice to have an audience, regardless. It’s always nice to have feedback, connectivity, and conversations. I feel like sometimes the written words/works are lost in communities. People want things fast, here, and now. And not for nothing, I love love love love art and fan-artists and original artists. I commend them just as much as I commend freelance writers, if not more. But if we are honest, their content is more than likely to get picked up and noticed than those in prose. That may be just my take on what I’m seeing, but I have heard it around the roots from other writers that their stuff just is so often glazed over.

Encouragement is always welcomed and appreciated. Encouragement, comments, likes, engagement . . .  whether you’re a writer, a content creator through video, an artist, or other forms of freelance creativity. It’s nice to know you have an audience, whether target or not. It’s nice to know that you have engagement, a following in any other sense of the word. It’s nice to know that you’re making an impact whether it’s in a serious manner, or fun and witty. Ask any writer, musician, artist, or even youtuber you know or has a following/is talked about or you’ve just seen their content around. What drives them is their passion and the passions of others who share their views, their geeking out, or their ideas even. Community, regardless of what type it is, is all about engagement, conversation, creativity, fun, and even collaboration in some parts.

One of the things I hear a lot from new creators is their fear of being rejected. They’re not as good a writer as this author. Not as good of an artist as this comic creator or fan artist or animator. So much potential can be lost because people are afraid to start. They’re afraid they won’t live up to the standards everyone else is setting for themselves or for other creators. They want to be just as good as them, not seeing their own potential, talent, and what they’re good at on their own. They’re afraid of rejection and not being the high bar standard so many people have set for content. And to be honest, I think that’s really upsetting. If I never put my foot out there to write terrible fanfiction back in 2009-2013, I wouldn’t be where I am in my writing today. I was afraid, yes, when I began. I got horrific reviews. I got yelled at. I got told to stop writing. I didn’t, though. I found new platforms. New fandoms. New content. New people. I grew, I created, and I strived to be better for myself. Be better in my own talents. Not better in the standard of other writers.

And now? Now I have several writings on AO3 that I can be proud of and work past to become even better than those are. You’re always growing as a content creator. No matter what your format media is. While proud of several of my fanfics on AO3, some of them could probably use re-writes and be re-done. But for now, I’m proud of them. And in another maybe three to five years, I can look back on one of them and say “That was good, but I did better today. And I’m still proud of this particular piece.” That’s what creating is all about. Aside from wanting to get out there and having engagement, as previously talked about. It’s good to get out there and I would love to more and more, but it’s also important to keep creating. Even if you’re afraid to start because of those higher standards from others and from what you see or who you follow. I never dreamed that I would have so much content on AO3, or even have as much of a response that I have in the last year or two that I’ve returned to it and broke through my years long hiatus. (And that’s only because of writer’s block and life). I never thought I would start a public blog such as WordPress. I’d gone back and forth on it for so long and even though it’s not really looked at much, I’m glad I have this. It lets me get things like this out, and like my personal life situation without annoying my friends and blowing up social media. It’s a journal, if you will, for me to bring up social situations, life situations, and the likes of this post here.

So while it’s upsetting and hard to get out there as a writer or any beginning content creator, please. Try not to focus too much on getting “Famous”, “Popular”, or having a large gathering. And I know that’s really stupid of me to say, since the format beginning of this was just that (more or less, just me trying to figure out how to get out there more to GET engaged with communities. Followed by what I’ve heard and seen around the bend from creators and why there’s such a high bar) . . . just create. That’s the main thinking you need to have. Whether it’s WordPress, AO3, Tapastic, YouTube, animation, drawing, Twitch, anything you love and are into. Create, and don’t set a huge, impossible pedestal for yourself. You’re only going to sell yourself short, disappoint yourself, and feel like you’re less than others. I still do that, to this day, I’ll be completely honest. And that’s okay! It’s human.

My next point, too: you’re only human, please also remember that. Don’t stress yourself out. Don’t try to push yourself to make things happen and get stuff out in a certain, unrealistic deadline for yourself. You work at your own pace. And that’s the beauty of freelance creativity. If people are impatient and don’t understand why you take so long, then that’s their loss. You come first, then your creations. Always remember this, even if others are telling you that your work comes first. Not when it’s free and on your own time. Always take care of yourself and your personal life first. This is one of the many reasons why I haven’t been able to do many updates as of lately. I have personal stress and things to take care of outside of my writing life and life online.

So create. Even if you’re afraid to take that first step. It can be scary, and you can still look at everyone else around you and think they’re better and always going to be. But remember something: even if they’re big, they’re popular, or just in general well known . . . they’re people too. I can name several people I’ve watched for a while blow up and become something. They’re still people. Though I may nerd out when they talk to me or reblog my stuff or anything like that, I remember that they’re still people. I’ve seen many say they need to take social media breaks to focus on life and work on their art/writing/videos/etc. And that reminds me that they are people and are just as tired, humble, free-creating, and stressed out as I am.

Don’t sell yourself short, but also don’t put yourself up to the highest , unreachable standard. It’s hard to get yourself out there, it’s true. And it’s disappointing, I’m not saying that it is. We’re all human, remember that. And just because I feel this way and stated all that in the beginning, doesn’t mean that I cannot tell others to just . . . create. I’m still learning, at almost 26-years-old to just create and not think about whether or not I’m going to get noticed much. Would I love to? Yes, definitely. Does it influence my creativity, my thinking, and my passion? Definitely not. It’s okay to feel these things and it’s okay to be a little discouraged from time to time.

Just don’t ever let that snuff out your light. Promise me, that in whatever you do, whatever you create, you won’t stop.

The world needs so much more creative potential. Don’t let anything or anyone intimidate you otherwise.

This includes yourself.

The Marks We Make

Well this was supposed to be a totally different write-up but in light of, well, everything, it’s going to be somewhat the same. But then again, not completely so. I also want to apologize in advance for this one being shorter than my usual writings.

 

You own everything that happens to you. And you own everything that you say or do to a person and as a person yourself. Trying to cover it up or make excuses is shitty and toxic. It’s also abusive. It’s also gaslighting. But if you think you’re in the right and everyone else is against you or in the wrong or making you out to look bad, then you’re probably the problem. Especially if more than one person tends to agree with the other party or if more than one person sees the same issue repeating itself. That’s just common sense.

In any case, the whole ‘you are what you eat’ thing is true. And by that, I mean in the metaphorical sense of you are what you eat. You are what you put into your life and you are what you put out. You are how you treat one another. And you are how you see people around you and speak about them. I believe in all of these things and more. And it rings true in the case of a vast majority of my relatives. As I’ve stated several times.

But now the tides have gotten higher and the waters rougher. After expressing certain medical issues that have come up to people, it was met with such blandness and topic swapping that I couldn’t think fast enough to react properly. A few days later it came to my attention that certain members of the family were now spitting out that they were an only child and there were no siblings or no other children in the family. That the so-called-couldn’t-do-it-any-other-time party was plastered over my birthday on purpose. And when asked about it, nobody could look others in the eye, much less come up with an excuse. At this point, I’ve become faced with the decision much sooner than I had planned on for taking matters into my own hands. I won’t go into further detail since, by June, you’ll all be able to see for yourself. But things are changing, and I’m going to make damned sure that it’s for the better. At least, for me.

Yet . . . in the middle of all that and my frustrations and willingness to finally do what I have to do, I know what’s going to become of it on the other side. While I don’t have to engage in it or hear it directly, I know all too well what will happen and what will be painted in my image from them. And that brings me back to the ‘you are what you eat’ thing. You cannot say one thing, and mean ten others. You cannot say that I am family in the same breathe you claim that you only have one child. It doesn’t work that way. And if people think I’m not going to hear about it, well then they’re wrong. And if they think I’m not going to react, they’re wrong about that, too. And I don’t have to react positively, no no no. There’s no chance in hell I could ever react positively to this slandering. I am allowed to respond negatively, with as much politeness as I can stand with all the salt and let-me-make-this-as-clear-as-possible that I can throw in. Receipts, my friends, are your ticket to anything these days it seems.

You make what you break. And you make your own marks. Nobody can make you react, behave, or say what you do. You make your own decisions based on everyday life. You make your own choices based on personal beliefs whether religious or not. Nobody is holding a gun to your head when you make your life’s choices.

You are what you eat.

Oh . . . and one more thing?

Once again, I’m faced with the harsh blow to the head of trying to find a place to live. On top of the cancer, the slightly-secret-project-thing I’m writing, legal issues facing discrimination from my insurances based on my gender and name, and about twenty other things as usual.

But all of that?

Well, that’s for another writing.