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It’s Not Me

Started by altered, May 27, 2020, 09:21:14 AM

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altered

It isn't. I keep reminding myself, but it rarely sticks.

So I have to just keep saying it.

It wasn't me in March: it was a TERF who had managed to insinuate herself into a trans-friendly space.
It wasn't me in May: it was a privileged rich cishet white lady who mistook a lack of privilege for a lack of effort.
It wasn't me today: it was a system built to keep homeless disabled/queer people disenfranchised for life.

And whenever I say these things, it sooner or later turns out to be truth. And I wish I could just be right about shit like this without being guilt tripped that I didn't complete the labors of Hercules before I decided that it wasn't my fault, that there was nothing more I could have done.

This is the opposite of the lesson a lot of people need to learn. That lesson is usually that sometimes it is their fault. And I have done quite a bit to myself, no doubt.

But the big things, the ones that drive me to breakdown sobbing in public, they aren't my fault. I have to keep reminding myself of that, that I am not the sole person in control of my life trajectory, whatever the feel-good ableist motivational poster industry and bootstraps obsessed middle and upper class says.

I live and die at the behest of others.
And I don't get a goddamn thing out of it.
And it's not just a fucking excuse.
And I couldn't have changed it with more effort, louder yelling, or fighting harder.
And every time the truth comes out and I am right.

Some mountains cannot be climbed. It's not my fault. It's not me.
"I am that worst of all type of criminal...I cannot bring myself to do what you tell me, because you told me."

There's over 100 of us in this meat-suit. You'd think it runs like a ship, but it's more like a hundred and ten angry ghosts having an old-school QuakeWorld tournament, three people desperately trying to make sure the gamers don't go hungry or soil themselves, and the Facilities manager weeping in the corner as the garbage piles high.

Cramulus

we know you're out there, altered, grinding and grinding <3

The terror of the situation is that we're all inside of this ignorant machine, this blind idiot god. I am very sorry that you have to go through this--you're right, it's not you, it's that the giant hates themself, it hates who they really are. But we love you, and we hope you love yourself too.

you've been on my mind as the weather turns nicer, and I am hoping your conditions are more pleasant than the ones you left


altered

Thanks, Cram. I know you guys got this down already, yeah. It's not just about stopping self-loathing, though — although that's a part of it.

This was more about how I get told that maybe the other person isn't actually that bad, or maybe I should have tried to talk to someone in charge. Something could have been done by me or I am misinterpreting the situation somehow.

Then, yesterday, I learn the reason I got thrown out of Chicago was because someone I knew was transphobic manipulated and lied to one of my roommates to have me thrown out. She lied to everyone about different shit, in order to make it trans folks vs cis folks. It only came out because she tried to rip off the cis roomie and that prompted an open and honest discussion. I fucking called it. I was told not to be rude to her, how the fuck would I know, we talked twice and had perfectly pleasant conversations both times. IT WASN'T ME. And if I had been listened to I wouldn't be here.

Also yesterday! The reason I got thrown out in Michigan was because the person recruiting me mistook having bad luck and lower privilege than her for laziness and parasitism. I told people about this shit and was told to Shut My Mouth, she is helping me, total stranger after all!

Nope, she said it to my fucking face. Oh, but I could have been lying, it's okay, I'm under a lot of stress. Then apparently she went and told her son (who I met her through) To get better friends than "my type". Nail. Fuckin. Coffin. IT WASN'T ME.

And it all boiled over yesterday when after learning that shit, I got turned down at a shelter cause of a sleep disorder mixed with a hilariously optimistic curfew and insanely strict rules (if you move in the night you go out).

Everyone I told got together to tell me that I needed to just keep trying, other shelters can surely help, and I maybe should have given this one a chance because maybe my sleep disorder will just go away.

And I flipped the fuck out and told them if they're so sure then THEY can fucking try it out, because maybe ten goddamn fucking years of my life have given me perspective they'll never have and let me know when I'm staring at dead ends.

IT ISN'T ME, you fuckers, it's the world I'm living in and the situation I'm coming from, and I don't get to do DICK ALL about those. Stop fucking guilt tripping me over it. Stop saying I need to try harder, do better, struggle further when all that will get me is A: shot, B: some fucking coward calling the cops. Depends who it is I am faced with.

That's what this was about. Not just the awareness that it isn't always my fault, but also the awareness that blaming myself ALSO ISN'T ME, because everyone in the wider world wants me to blame myself too.

It's not an abdication of responsibility either, but a statement that I WILL MEET RESPONSIBILITY ON MY TERMS OR NOBODY'S.

If I feel like I'm not responsible, give me a fucking break, it's been ten years of hell and I haven't dove under a fucking bus yet. I EARNED IT.

If I decide to take responsibility just shut the fuck up, I don't need to be made to feel better about it and I don't need to be told that I'm "finally owning up" to my failings. Let me beat myself up for a bit and MOVE ON.

And the next time someone gives me that shit I'm going to immediately drop ALL responsibility altogether. Not even responsible for breathing in the air there and then, fuckin space aliens had their brain worms make me do it. Because I'm sick of being the object of blame for my own fucking life.

That anger isn't coming through so much, because I was in a way worse place yesterday, but I stand by the piece.
"I am that worst of all type of criminal...I cannot bring myself to do what you tell me, because you told me."

There's over 100 of us in this meat-suit. You'd think it runs like a ship, but it's more like a hundred and ten angry ghosts having an old-school QuakeWorld tournament, three people desperately trying to make sure the gamers don't go hungry or soil themselves, and the Facilities manager weeping in the corner as the garbage piles high.

minuspace

Quote space aliens had their brain worms make me do it


Well, I've never been called that before.


I appreciate what you said there though. When I'm going through different yet similar things it helped when people would also acknowledge my anger as 'just.' Fuck the victim blaming. Hold on to that anger, and give yourself a chance to go through and relate to challenge as only you know how. And we support you.

Freeky

last year, i wrote some song lyrics, when depression hadn't taken that hope of making music away from me yet (cuz depression takes everything away in the end, ya dig), and this resonates with that. here they are, though rough, and i can move them to a new thread if you like.

Disability Invisibility
you're so smart
you look fine
you make excuses to be lazy

asked for help
roll my eyes
my understanding is so hazy

how can you say
that you can't play
you're smart
you're pretty
you've talent
it cannot be
a thing unseen
you're fine
you're lyin
you crazy

pat your head
condescend
how can you be so ungrateful

i gave advice
that's my help
your anger is quite distasteful

all you fucking bastards
you need to read a book
disability invisibility
i'm sick, could be lethal
i can't do the things you can
disability invisibility
fuck you curse you hate you
until my dying breath
disability invisibility

Ari

Quote from: altered on May 27, 2020, 09:21:14 AM
It isn't. I keep reminding myself, but it rarely sticks.

So I have to just keep saying it.

It wasn't me in March: it was a TERF who had managed to insinuate herself into a trans-friendly space.
It wasn't me in May: it was a privileged rich cishet white lady who mistook a lack of privilege for a lack of effort.
It wasn't me today: it was a system built to keep homeless disabled/queer people disenfranchised for life.

And whenever I say these things, it sooner or later turns out to be truth. And I wish I could just be right about shit like this without being guilt tripped that I didn't complete the labors of Hercules before I decided that it wasn't my fault, that there was nothing more I could have done.

This is the opposite of the lesson a lot of people need to learn. That lesson is usually that sometimes it is their fault. And I have done quite a bit to myself, no doubt.

But the big things, the ones that drive me to breakdown sobbing in public, they aren't my fault. I have to keep reminding myself of that, that I am not the sole person in control of my life trajectory, whatever the feel-good ableist motivational poster industry and bootstraps obsessed middle and upper class says.

I live and die at the behest of others.
And I don't get a goddamn thing out of it.
And it's not just a fucking excuse.
And I couldn't have changed it with more effort, louder yelling, or fighting harder.
And every time the truth comes out and I am right.

Some mountains cannot be climbed. It's not my fault. It's not me.

*cries*



[...]

-flashback-

I shouldn't have been out that late.
I shouldn't have worn a skirt that day.
I shouldn't have dared to see a friend on a whim, putting me in that location to begin with.
I shouldn't have struggled.
I shouldn't have yelled.
I shouldn't have had that one extra drink before i went.
I shouldn't have told anyone after.

I should've done better.
I should've expected less.
I should've just stayed quiet.
I should've accepted that this is all my fault.

[...]

Can someone please shut down that fucking noise in my brain?
Anyone?

Please?
Cause i am fucking tired, and getting angry...
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