Author Topic: Itís Not Me  (Read 1651 times)

altered

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Itís Not Me
« on: May 27, 2020, 09:21:14 am »
It isnít. I keep reminding myself, but it rarely sticks.

So I have to just keep saying it.

It wasnít me in March: it was a TERF who had managed to insinuate herself into a trans-friendly space.
It wasnít me in May: it was a privileged rich cishet white lady who mistook a lack of privilege for a lack of effort.
It wasnít 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 didnít complete the labors of Hercules before I decided that it wasnít 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 arenít 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 donít get a goddamn thing out of it.
And itís not just a fucking excuse.
And I couldnít 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. Itís not my fault. Itís not me.
« Last Edit: May 27, 2020, 09:22:50 am by altered »
ďI am that worst of all type of criminal...I cannot bring myself to do what you tell me, because you told me

ďEver watch that famous war movie? Thatís how itíll be.Ē
ďWhich one?Ē
ďThe one where everybody dies.Ē
ó Blood Standard, Laird Barron

Remember the fall of Yin Tu.

Cramulus

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Re: Itís Not Me
« Reply #1 on: May 27, 2020, 01:46:15 pm »
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

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Re: Itís Not Me
« Reply #2 on: May 27, 2020, 10:12:03 pm »
Thanks, Cram. I know you guys got this down already, yeah. Itís not just about stopping self-loathing, though ó although thatís a part of it.

This was more about how I get told that maybe the other person isnít 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 WASNíT ME. And if I had been listened to I wouldnít 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, itís okay, Iím under a lot of stress. Then apparently she went and told her son (who I met her through) To get better friends than ďmy typeĒ. Nail. Fuckin. Coffin. IT WASNíT 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 theyíre so sure then THEY can fucking try it out, because maybe ten goddamn fucking years of my life have given me perspective theyíll never have and let me know when Iím staring at dead ends.

IT ISNíT ME, you fuckers, itís the world Iím living in and the situation Iím coming from, and I donít 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.

Thatís what this was about. Not just the awareness that it isnít always my fault, but also the awareness that blaming myself ALSO ISNíT ME, because everyone in the wider world wants me to blame myself too.

Itís not an abdication of responsibility either, but a statement that I WILL MEET RESPONSIBILITY ON MY TERMS OR NOBODYíS.

If I feel like Iím not responsible, give me a fucking break, itís been ten years of hell and I havenít dove under a fucking bus yet. I EARNED IT.

If I decide to take responsibility just shut the fuck up, I donít need to be made to feel better about it and I donít need to be told that Iím ďfinally owning upĒ to my failings. Let me beat myself up for a bit and MOVE ON.

And the next time someone gives me that shit Iím 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 Iím sick of being the object of blame for my own fucking life.

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

ďEver watch that famous war movie? Thatís how itíll be.Ē
ďWhich one?Ē
ďThe one where everybody dies.Ē
ó Blood Standard, Laird Barron

Remember the fall of Yin Tu.

minuspace

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Re: Itís Not Me
« Reply #3 on: May 27, 2020, 10:31:38 pm »
Quote
space aliens had their brain worms make me do it


Well, Iíve never been called that before.


I appreciate what you said there though. When Iím going through different yet similar things it helped when people would also acknowledge my anger as Ďjust.í 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

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Re: Itís Not Me
« Reply #4 on: June 02, 2020, 07:40:40 pm »
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

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Re: Itís Not Me
« Reply #5 on: June 10, 2020, 06:34:54 pm »
It isnít. I keep reminding myself, but it rarely sticks.

So I have to just keep saying it.

It wasnít me in March: it was a TERF who had managed to insinuate herself into a trans-friendly space.
It wasnít me in May: it was a privileged rich cishet white lady who mistook a lack of privilege for a lack of effort.
It wasnít 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 didnít complete the labors of Hercules before I decided that it wasnít 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 arenít 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 donít get a goddamn thing out of it.
And itís not just a fucking excuse.
And I couldnít 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. Itís not my fault. Itís 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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