Transition Period
First actual update since 2020 started. Spoilers, it's shit.
The world has gone apocalyptic, just like I always thought it would someday, and humanity is both fucked and blessed. For one, Earth gets a clean-up on parasites, which is nice. For two, exposure of how rotten humanity can go CAN surprise you no matter how bad you thought it would be.
And surprise, surprise, Twitter is bad for my mental health. Who else is not surprised?
I consider myself having a good grip on my anger considering I managed to realize the issue at a young age and subsequently, consciously, make an effort to curb it. But Twitter is making me re-evaluate that bar and by the end of this term, I either deactivate my accounts and never look at it ever again or I set a higher, stronger grip on my anger management.
Either way, shit is rolling whether I like it or not.
Maybe it was cowardly that I would choose ignorance to the world to preserve my sanity, but I never proclaimed myself a knight nor a saint.
I have no patience for the stupid and the abhorrent.
I have no heart for the vile and the perverted.
I have no mercy nor time for the crawling self-patted fools who do not care for the filth they drool from their rotting mouth.
Even if I gained some few good from the platform, it was not worth the fall of my health. It is unlikely the good parts will stay for a long time anyway, buried over the mountains of diorrhea product.
Some would say, "why not keep your acc private? no need to get involved with the world. You can just interact with the people you choose and remain a bystander for the rest.", which, okay, I have no qualms with people who DO do this, it's your account and your life and your health so I don't have an opinion nor do I have a right to have one about it but,
as for me, it's just my personal life motto that I don't do things half-way.
If I'm gonna be on the most worldwide platform, either I play my part in it or I stay off of it entirely, at least for me.
I don't like doing things half-way and I'm not about to start where I'm conscious about it.
Yes, I choose with what or who I get involved in, and I get to mute and block those I want nowhere near me, yet it still bears weight that seed of thought carries when I see them.
Especially when the unsolicited dick pics began to appear in my DMs.
Look, it's not my first time getting unsolicited dick pics, so before you wonder if it's the main reason, it's not. It plays as a trigger, but it is not the cause. Even if I am disgusted inside out as I feel my gut churns with vomit, I am unsurprised of the vile things most men can do when they have no brain to work with.
I was a curious kid, and I ventured into the forbidden webs of Omegle and Kik once, so I know the hoards of unsolicited dick pics that rises (ha) when you set your profile picture as a female. It's not that. I am furious with how stupid most men still are at this age but that's an old question that can never be answered as long as humanity reigns, so, moot.
But it still carries the trigger.
As a sexual assault survivor who unwittingly lived with PTSD for the past 10 years without a single fleck of help or diagnosis until it was too late and MDD was added to the pile when I eventually gathered the courage to get formally diagnosed, sexual harassments has and always will carry massive risk triggers to my mental state.
I might not show it until later hours, when I'm covered under the comforter or later days, when I'm washing the dishes or reading,
I might pretend I'm okay, to convince myself it's not the time to "play victim",
I might pretend I'm used to it, to avoid showing weakness,
I might mask my emotions by lashing out on extreme aggression and being defensive as hell,
I might play it casual, to hold the breakdowns at bay,
I might even hide it, because a shred of me still cowers at the shame and guilt and absolute hatred towards them and myself.
I might not show that I needed absolute support by my side, but I was grateful for every indirect mention that was soothing to my burns. And if I did ask for it directly? It would have saved me from spiraling into breakdowns.
I know I'm past the "passive-aggressive" bullshit, which is why I ask for support when I know I need them the most. I did not see myself getting ignored and talked over when I did.
Which, okay, fair, it hurt.
I know it's selfish of me to think my friends would just instinctively know what's up with me considering they have their own rough patches these days and their own problems.
It was probably unfair of me to even be hurt when they have been by me all this time with numerous support. It might even be just the MDD talking or the period talking.
But I spiraled nonetheless and broke down into an episode.
Or at least I think it was an episode. It was a long night.
Moose was the only one I talked to -because I was afraid now to reach out again to get the same reaction- and he managed the damage control amicably.
Thanks, Moose. You a real one.
Two days later, I feel myself in this transition period where I'm sitting in my glass cage, shut and locked from protecting myself the night of the unprecedented episode, where I might not find the people outside the same ones who had been there for the past few years.
Maybe I'm jumping the gun, or I'm the only one viewing the situation as I am now, but
I usually trust my guesses with a 50-50 margin.
It takes a lot to dissuade me from my loyalty to the people I thought had earned it, but repeated major transgressions doesn't get overlooked. Consequences come.
If by chance I no longer find myself having people as emotional support system, I can always relearn on falling back into my hobbies as one. I fared well having them for the most part of my childhood, I can do it again.
The world has gone apocalyptic, just like I always thought it would someday, and humanity is both fucked and blessed. For one, Earth gets a clean-up on parasites, which is nice. For two, exposure of how rotten humanity can go CAN surprise you no matter how bad you thought it would be.
And surprise, surprise, Twitter is bad for my mental health. Who else is not surprised?
I consider myself having a good grip on my anger considering I managed to realize the issue at a young age and subsequently, consciously, make an effort to curb it. But Twitter is making me re-evaluate that bar and by the end of this term, I either deactivate my accounts and never look at it ever again or I set a higher, stronger grip on my anger management.
Either way, shit is rolling whether I like it or not.
Maybe it was cowardly that I would choose ignorance to the world to preserve my sanity, but I never proclaimed myself a knight nor a saint.
I have no patience for the stupid and the abhorrent.
I have no heart for the vile and the perverted.
I have no mercy nor time for the crawling self-patted fools who do not care for the filth they drool from their rotting mouth.
Even if I gained some few good from the platform, it was not worth the fall of my health. It is unlikely the good parts will stay for a long time anyway, buried over the mountains of diorrhea product.
Some would say, "why not keep your acc private? no need to get involved with the world. You can just interact with the people you choose and remain a bystander for the rest.", which, okay, I have no qualms with people who DO do this, it's your account and your life and your health so I don't have an opinion nor do I have a right to have one about it but,
as for me, it's just my personal life motto that I don't do things half-way.
If I'm gonna be on the most worldwide platform, either I play my part in it or I stay off of it entirely, at least for me.
I don't like doing things half-way and I'm not about to start where I'm conscious about it.
Yes, I choose with what or who I get involved in, and I get to mute and block those I want nowhere near me, yet it still bears weight that seed of thought carries when I see them.
Especially when the unsolicited dick pics began to appear in my DMs.
Look, it's not my first time getting unsolicited dick pics, so before you wonder if it's the main reason, it's not. It plays as a trigger, but it is not the cause. Even if I am disgusted inside out as I feel my gut churns with vomit, I am unsurprised of the vile things most men can do when they have no brain to work with.
I was a curious kid, and I ventured into the forbidden webs of Omegle and Kik once, so I know the hoards of unsolicited dick pics that rises (ha) when you set your profile picture as a female. It's not that. I am furious with how stupid most men still are at this age but that's an old question that can never be answered as long as humanity reigns, so, moot.
But it still carries the trigger.
As a sexual assault survivor who unwittingly lived with PTSD for the past 10 years without a single fleck of help or diagnosis until it was too late and MDD was added to the pile when I eventually gathered the courage to get formally diagnosed, sexual harassments has and always will carry massive risk triggers to my mental state.
I might not show it until later hours, when I'm covered under the comforter or later days, when I'm washing the dishes or reading,
I might pretend I'm okay, to convince myself it's not the time to "play victim",
I might pretend I'm used to it, to avoid showing weakness,
I might mask my emotions by lashing out on extreme aggression and being defensive as hell,
I might play it casual, to hold the breakdowns at bay,
I might even hide it, because a shred of me still cowers at the shame and guilt and absolute hatred towards them and myself.
I might not show that I needed absolute support by my side, but I was grateful for every indirect mention that was soothing to my burns. And if I did ask for it directly? It would have saved me from spiraling into breakdowns.
I know I'm past the "passive-aggressive" bullshit, which is why I ask for support when I know I need them the most. I did not see myself getting ignored and talked over when I did.
Which, okay, fair, it hurt.
I know it's selfish of me to think my friends would just instinctively know what's up with me considering they have their own rough patches these days and their own problems.
It was probably unfair of me to even be hurt when they have been by me all this time with numerous support. It might even be just the MDD talking or the period talking.
But I spiraled nonetheless and broke down into an episode.
Or at least I think it was an episode. It was a long night.
Moose was the only one I talked to -because I was afraid now to reach out again to get the same reaction- and he managed the damage control amicably.
Thanks, Moose. You a real one.
Two days later, I feel myself in this transition period where I'm sitting in my glass cage, shut and locked from protecting myself the night of the unprecedented episode, where I might not find the people outside the same ones who had been there for the past few years.
Maybe I'm jumping the gun, or I'm the only one viewing the situation as I am now, but
I usually trust my guesses with a 50-50 margin.
It takes a lot to dissuade me from my loyalty to the people I thought had earned it, but repeated major transgressions doesn't get overlooked. Consequences come.
If by chance I no longer find myself having people as emotional support system, I can always relearn on falling back into my hobbies as one. I fared well having them for the most part of my childhood, I can do it again.
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