i’m…still quarantining, because the usa is wild and scary and handling this pandemic terribly. i’m still terrified!
i am also however making many a youtube video. why, in only the last two or three days i finished editing & posted not one, not two, but THREE youtube videos. too much too soon? maybe. not formulaic enough for youtube? probably.
here they are:
i’ve been into art deco as an art form, in addition to as a lana del rey song. speaking of lana, what’s up with that instagram essay? um, anyways. i love her; i will not condemn her too much (except fot dating a cop*)
*cops are part of a corrupt system that they opted to join therefore while they can be well-intentioned on an individual level, they are all actively doing harm within a toxic racist system.
okay. is that enough? is that a post? i love to blog, but i enjoy a short post, often, i suppose. i find myself questioning whether my word count in particular is high enough to hit publish, often, when writing blog posts.
if you choose to watch only one of the videos above, but to watch one, choose perhaps the middle one, if you have nostalgia for 1990s tomb raider lara croft and/or enjoy cosplay, and if you are okay with fake guns/gunshot sounds and blood imagery.
i actually put a medium to medium-high amount of effort and TIME into editing that video in particular. however, each of the three is edited in its own charming manner – the first being the most “formulaic youtube video”, if that is what ye seek. hah. who talks like that. but who seeks formulaic youtube? …many more individuals, i think.
xena is getting increasingly frustrated that her adorable efforts to be even more cute than usual are failing her in luring me in for much attention and/or pets. her favorite way to be pet is cheek rubs, cheek rubs against her cheek glands, like the shy but territorial weirdo that she is. she wishes to mark you as her own (by rubbing her face on you; cute!)
i’m on my laptop, not desktop; and so i do not have the best selection of recent images to choose from to “flesh out” this post (why reveal so much of the process today? i do not get myself sometimes)
i do, however, have a few photos & my twitter account to save from in reduced quality for reuploading to here.
tw rape; pedophilia; suicide; overdosing; medical malpractice:
i wish i could access a skype account that would in fact straight up prove that the male half of a decently well known traveling artist couple (open; i think) hit on me hard when i was 16. he wanted to talk to me. he wanted to skype with me. not with his wife around, who i admired more, though. he wanted to meet… to photograph me. he wanted to see me topless. he was maybe 30 or 31 at the time. i was 16. he knew this. i would, perhaps should, share, but with no receipts, what good is the word of a crazy girl?
i already learned the hard way that you cannot be taken seriously if you wish to be your crazy girl self or especially if you are so very crazy girl that you in fact have 0% choice at least at times – this leads to out of control behavior, so whatever. just because once i might obsess over a cute hospital counselor i had known for years beforehand through okcupid conversations, who was good at his job, so good at his job that i fell for him (hard) while chemically manic from a prozac overdose of 2000mg.
perhaps, if you fell for a figure caring for you who was good at being empathetic and who confessed to YOU that they knew you from the online dating site, and you remembered them immediately, perhaps later after calming you from a panic attack you might find yourself confessing – technically reporting for the first time – that another counselor did in fact rape you once after meeting you at a psych ward as a patient.
you might feel trust, and be met with affirming words.
then they might stop scheduling this counselor you have a fondness for; and within days, they might discharge you unexpectedly, still manic from your suicide attempt, and you might go home, still manic, and confused and rejected, with diagnosed BPD; and message – who else? this man you had once liked, and now loved, in a truly symptomatic way. you might get desperate as time passes and message him more; obsessively; to get a response. by the time the chemically induced mania passes you’re back to stage 1: the depression that put you in the state to overdose and die and go to the hospital. in fact, i don’t know if anyone at a hospital Franklin medical center in Greenfield MA owned by Bay State hospital/medical center that i went to that might have discharged me while manic at one point….possibly maybe…would even be aware of this, since i was blacklisted from that facility that i mentioned earlier after, as i discovered when i ironically enough i overdosed again (this time on 200mg of klonopin; it did worse than mania, but i was not discharged rapidly following a suicide attempt) in less than a month’s time after that and was told by crisis that the hospital that had discharged me (far) too soon would not accept me as a patient again. i was not told why; but i am not stupid. he told them about my flirting, but probably not that we knew each other for literal years before i fell so hard i hit my head and acted stupid and inappropriately. i am not saying i am not at fault here!
but perhaps, though my crazy girl words do not matter, that reporting of a rape was genuine and spurred on through a feeling of intimacy and trust, rather than a desire to lure that counselor into a similar situation, like i suspect is the hospital’s terrible impression of me. i would of course not expect a good impression when i was so manic! i know, i KNOW i was an annoying patient, but discharging someone with a history of attempts over an attempt with an antidepressant followed by mania while they’re still manic let alone not over the severe depression that put them there is not ok! or maybe all of the time! it makes me angry; it is unjust. i was symptomatic, they were unprofessional to the point of endangering my life multiple ways, as well as discrediting my reporting a likely serial rapist who keeps me from going to my local psych facility since he still works there in spite of my having reported him a grand total of two more times since then! so i just tell crisis that i can’t go there because my rapist works there and they send me elsewhere, but perhaps not during a pandemic! so i am afraid.
i’ve left that man i loved passionately but briefly alone, except for a couple of apologies, since before even my mania was fully subsisded. i’m truly sorry if this ost impacts his life negatively, but i believe it would only do so if he failed to report that he knew me irl before i was a patient there and that that contributed to my behavior, and they see this, and then i am taken seriously for once. lol! that won’t happen; i am a crazy girl.
anyways, my hospital options are limited, so i’ve been avoiding reaching out for help during this time…also ironic.
this rapist of mine is i’m sure not only a man who has targeted me. he groomed me so expertly, brought up such oddly specific questions and topics beforehand, got me so inebriated, and more, that there is simply no way i am his only victim. he is charming, tall, spanish by blood, and has a loud laugh. i dislike tall men now, after him, and my abusive father, who i believe is 6’4″, and ironically also named anthony. instead of working at cooley dickinson hospital, though, he resides in my hometown in england, rarely going out as far as i know, now.
i don’t know whether i was ever raped by my father, since i can’t remember my childhood, and i have written about that before. i will talk about it too, possibly, one day, when we both can stomach it.
anyways. nobody takes the blog posts of a crazy girl seriously, of course, but this crazy girl wants to be heard, so she’s making a last attempt at explaining how she became so desperate – tooth and claw; blood and bone. bitter to the taste, but sweet looking so as to lure in people. no. not at all. not her intention. her eating disorder got worse, so that she could stop having boobs and an ass! she hated her body. it led to more unwanted attention. sick girl, thin girl, right? that’s the stereotype, and i suppose equally or maybe less importantly, the ocd-powered fixation. yes, she, or i, got an ocd diagnosis.
anyways i realize that making these accusations, even as legally unbinding “maybes” that are still obvious, is a serious thing.
i love you all, even the counselor who was too afraid to face the consequences of his having had an online dating profile who got me blacklisted from a local hospital, limiting my options. i don’t love my rapist anthony whose old phone number i still have in my contacts though.
nails and tooth enamel cracking as it bites down on sinew and harder things, cutting the way a sharp tooth can, like a tooth filed down with acid wear from years of bulimia followed by years of chronic gi disease like i’ve had.
you are a treasure, and you need to take care of yourself so that you may take care of others and do your work in the world. your best work.