California Daydreamin'

hopefully you’re reading this right now and i didnt fuck everything up. idk what im doing

i cant tumblr

as you read this, I am currently in basic training (probably crying?? lol) and am missing every single important future date of my best friends life yay thnx @ military

side notes: dont be offended or upset if you dont hear from me (maybe even at all during basic), sometimes we’re not even allowed to send letters (its all up to our MTI’s.) so if you dont hear from me, its not on purpose. I probably only have a 5 minute phone call a week so communicate with my mom to see how im doing. 

so, today is your birthday and you’re a fucking old ass lady now. welcome to adulthood. enjoy doing taxes and spending $200 on a textbook. welcome to the world of no high school. I know its hard to imagine since youre not graduated yet and this is all youve known for the past 12 years, but its coming. (its not that scary dont worry). 

I’m really fucking annoyed because I’m currently missing every single major life event that youre experiencing. I’m sorry I’m missing your 18th birthday, your Gradnite (if youre going) (definitely go) (seriously, go.), youre graduation (u excited hoe?), your enlistment. .. but i hope you understand. 

well, what can i say about my little jenny

i love you. first and foremost. youre my everything. always have been, always will be. even when we’re down each others throats, we’re still eachothers baes. you’re stronger than you give yourself credit for. i hope you realize that. youre too damn hard on yourself 24/7. stop it. youre beautiful inside and out and you can accomplish anything that you set your mind to. the world is at your fingertips now. youre almost out of high school. its up to you now to make shit happen and be the rockstar that youre destined to be.

going to change gears a bit and go on a Jesus tangent. bear with me. 

 I hope your faith hasnt diminished, but I personally believe that everything happens for a reason. if it ends up happening, it ends up happening. if it doesnt, it wasnt mean to be. all the shit youve been through happened for a reason. If you never struggled with the things that you have, you never would’ve been able to empathize with others who needed your support. Bad times only make you more knowledgable. Likewise, all of the good things you’ve experienced happened for a reason. People are placed in your life for different purposes and I hope that my presence was a good one. 

I hope you understand that you don’t need to commit intellectual suicide in order to believe in a higher power. Humans don’t know EVERYTHING. I think spirituality is too complex for humans to wrap their heads around. I don’t know about you, but I think this world is too perfectly made to have just popped up out of “the big bang theory”. (its a THEORY, not fact). Every time I look at you, my faith strengthens. Every time I look at you, I realize that humans are too perfect and beautiful to have just popped up out of nothing. Have you ever looked at yourself? The way your thick, black hair flows down your back almost high-fiving your butt? The way your salmon-colored, Elvis Presley lips curl to the right every time you smile? The way your laugh can cheer anyone up? Now try to tell me that you just popped up out of nowhere. I KNOW that a higher power spent forever piecing you together & He blessed me with the opportunity to know you. 

As you begin your journey as an adult, you need to understand a few things.

1) You don’t need to be superwomen and save the world before your 19th birthday.

- Many people take years and years and years to fully settle into their careers, while others can jump into them in a week. That doesn’t make you less of a person for spending time trying to figure yourself out and where you want to be in life. 

2) Don’t work yourself to death. 

- You’re the youngest you’ll ever be at this exact moment and while you waste your life away working, theres an entire world out there that has been uncaressed by your eyes. Make sure you take time to appreciate the environment. Travel. Travel a lot. Learn new languages. Experience different cultures. Don’t spend too much time hanging over a fryer when you could be climbing mountains and fishing. You weren’t put on this Earth to pay bills and die.

Understand that you don’t need to make anyone proud except for YOURSELF. You don’t need to make your parents proud (although its nice). Theyre not going to like every decision you make and thats okay. Do things for YOU, not them. Love who you want to love, not who they think you should love. Pursue the career that you want to, not the ones your parents pre-determined for you before you were born. You make me proud every single day. You make me proud by waking up and facing life even when I know sometimes its hard and you may not want to. You make me proud by surviving high school even at the times that you thought you wouldn’t have. You only have a few months left and it’s a breeze. It will fly by. 

You’re going to do great things best friend, and even if I may not be there to see them because of unforeseen circumstances such as this one, know that I’m proud of you. 

Happy birthday best friend,

After 3 agonizing years of trauma recovery, I went on my first date. I never thought that I’d trust somebody of the male species again. 

We went ice skating. I parked my car and was looking around for him. He sent me a sassy text and I laughed out loud and he turned around & was like “i knew that was your laugh.” 

We only skated for like 10 minutes & then we decided to go to the beach. We sat on the lifeguard house thing. We looked out into the water and just talked. There was never a moment of awkward silence. If there was silence, it was beautiful silence. We both saw the same shooting star. I held my hand and I’ll never forget the shining yacht out in the distance and the sound of the water rippling and sizzling on the shore. 

After a bomb ass makeout session, we went to get something to eat. Standing in line, he grabbed my face and kissed me in front of everyone. A little embarrassed, I was like “dude, were in public!” & he was like “I don’t care. The only thing that matters is you and I.”

We went back to his place where I would eventually sleep for the night. After a lovey-dovey/sexual groping period, I began to withdraw myself from the present. I was getting horrible flashbacks of being raped. Somehow I knew this was going to happen. He somehow saw it in my eyes that I was gone and no longer living in the present. He continued to ask me what was wrong. I chocked back my words and explained to him what had happened to me in the past. Anytime someone even touches my shoulder without asking or letting me know beforehand, I get jumpy. Hyperarousal and paranoia took over my life. 

Somehow this conversation led to what I believed to be a personal attack (which maybe I’m wrong). He proceeded to tell me that he needs a girl in his life that is mentally okay. I totally understand his viewpoint, but he failed to empathize with mine. He’s at the happiest point in his life. He has everything. He is successful and genuinely happy. He doesn’t want my negativity and random periods of bipolar depression to ruin his vibes and bring him down. I totally understand, but I wish I was worth it. “How can anyone love you if you don’t love yourself.” he explained to me. Everything he was saying made complete sense, but I still felt like shit. 

I felt like that was it. I thought he was going to dump me right then and there; however, he continued to love on me just like he had 10 minutes prior. He acted as if the conversation never even happened or that it didn’t affect him. 

I think he may have said that to motivate me to get better. We click too well for him to just kick me to the curb because I’m having difficulty coping with trauma. 

The rest of the night included cuddles and more cuddles. He would lay on top of me, kissing me. When he would release my lips, I watched his eyes survey my face. He studied my eyebrows, my dimples, my lips, my fucked up makeup and still told me I was beautiful. 

He acted like he won the lottery and I’m still in awe that someone can feel that way about me. I never thought that I could make somebody so happy just by being myself and being with them. 

He thinks that I’m beautiful even when my makeup is destroyed and all over the place, I have horrible morning breath, & my hair is an oily wreck. He was never grossed out by my body & he loved it just as much as when it was all done up and beautiful with nice makeup, fresh clothes & shower, icy mint breath. 

“you trust me, and I know that that scares you.” he told me this morning.

I’m going to share something with whoever is currently reading my blog that is extremely personal but I feel strong enough to put it out there. I wrote this close to three years ago in an online diary about a month after being raped by my boyfriend. I wrote everything that was in my mind. Every question I had. Enjoy.

“im vulnerable.

what was the true reason i let him keep going?

was it because i was scared? broken? afraid of being dumped?

i think the answer is all 3.

i tried with all my might to pry his fingers off of mine, to loosen his grip.

i tried to hold my shirt down, and hold my underwear up. He was stronger than me.

i said no. i said no a numerous amount of times, yet he didnt listen.

how many times do i have to say it to get my point across?

once.

the answer is simply-- once.

but was the whole incident my own fault? I  was the one that brought him into my house. I  was the one that let it happen.

i shouldve thrown him off. i shouldve yelled at him. maybe i should have even called the cops.

but i was scared.

that was it.

i was a scared, vulnerable, lonely 16 year old girl that was too afraid to let go of the only person that was prevalent in my life.

what am i suppose to do now?

its not like anyone cares, or would be willing to listen to me.

maybe thats the reason im sitting on some random site typing my feelings when i know this can be traced back to my IP address.

but maybe i want people to know.

maybe i want him to get in trouble, or maybe I don't.

i dont want to have to deal with the shame, the embarrassment, and i sure as HELL don't want to have to relive the moment when my body was taken advantaged of by the one person that i thought would never do such a thing.

I wouldn't press charges. I love him.

I wouldn't have enough guts to get up on a stand and testify that the boy i fell in love with raped me.

Did he even rape me? i said "no".

i tried to keep my clothes on and he forcibly took them off.

i told him i didnt want to do anything, and i said it many times.

He didnt forcibly hold me down, he didnt yell at me, or tie me to the bed but i told him "no". i told him "no" a lot.

but i lied there. lifeless.

letting him do things to my body that i wasn't ready for.

thinking about all the repercussions.

how bad i felt religiously for sinning to God when all I had to do was just throw him off of me. thats ALL i had to do. he wouldve gotten the point that i was serious.

so we are diverted back to the question: "why did you let it happen?"

I was filled with trepidation.

If i told him no, what would he do? would he break up with me? would he yell at me? maybe he had a side to him that i didnt know about.

im afraid of men. Why did i even get in a relationship in the first place?

He apologized after it happened, but that doesnt take away any of the pain, the shame.

It doesn't heal the wounds.

I'm forced to relive that moment over and over and over and over again in my head, and it won't ever stop.

I remember my facial expressions, I remember what he said. What i said.

I feel guilty, upset, afraid.

Since I refuse to tell on him, the only thing i can do is keep it to myself [or type it on this website that the government is probably reading, lol] and move on.

thats my only option.

to move on.” 

Moving out of state by myself in two days.

its literally a combination of trepidation and excitement. I’m afraid of being alone. I’m afraid of not having anyone to stop me if I go too far. 

I’m also really excited because after almost three years, I finally decided to seek professional help after being raped. The main thing that was keeping me away from treatment is the money. I didn’t know that rape counseling was free. It’s not only free where I live currently, but it’s also free in CALIFORNIA. the most expensive place on this planet offers something FREE. I was mind-blown when I found out. lol. Also, since I’m over 18, my parents cant have access to my medical records anymore and since I’m out of state, they wont know where I am anyways. I can finally start to do this healing process myself and maybe if one day i have the courage to tell my parents, I will. ( I probably wont though because I dont want to worry them and I honestly believe my dad would kill him. I’m not kidding. He would literally murder him. ) 

I accredit my priest to influencing me to look up resources on treatment. I did my first face-to-face confession yesterday because it was my favorite priest and it was my last time going to that church so why not. Anyways, I told him about it and about how i thought it was my fault and he literally gave me a 10 minute speech about how it wasnt my fault. He was almost angry with me that I even thought it was. He told me not to let other people try to tell me that it was my fault. 

I did it. I don’t know how I did it, but I did it. 

I’ve been putting going to my first confession off to the side for a while now because I was too scared. I realized I’m moving soon and in order to receive my first communion and confirmation, I had to go to confession, so I did. 

I arrived an hour early. It was probably one of the most difficult hours of my life. I was shaking, I couldn’t control my breath. I called one of my friends and I talked to him for awhile and it got my mind off of things for about 30 minutes. I let him go like 35 minutes before confession began and I went into the bathroom. I stared at my reflection for awhile and seeing my sin through my eyes. I could see how broken I was. I ran to the toilet and started throwing up. I was shaking violently and couldn’t stop. I finally walked into the cathedral and sat down. My breathing was loud and stagnant. Everyone one was staring at me and I began crying. Then the priest walked passed up to get into the confessional (which kinda defeats the purpose of anonymity because he saw us all already??? lol). It wasn’t my favorite priest, but it was my second favorite. He wasn’t too old. Everyone stood up and got in a line. I was third. The first guy went in. While he was in there, the girl in front of me just like walked away so I was actually second in line. When I heard the door open and realized it was my turn to go in, my heart sunk. I walked in and kneeled down on the confessional. In a very quiet, shaky, voice I said the sign of the cross & that this was my first confession. I was hoping he would jump in and help me right off the bat, but he stayed silent and let me spew off my sins. 

I started with the easy sins. Those weren’t too difficult to say. Then the only ones I had left were the embarrassing, difficult ones. I opened my mouth but no words were coming out. He asked me if I was finished but I told him “no, I’m just really scared.” and he told me that he’s heard everything in the book and that there was nothing to be afraid of. I took my shallow deep breath and spilled the marbles. 

He told me that what had happened to me wasn’t my fault. “He used you. He took advantage of you. That wasn’t your fault.” . He also told me that God doesn’t want me to hurt myself. 

As for my penance, he told me to write down 10 positive things in my life and reflect on them. He told me to focus on the positive things. 

Overall, it was a very relieving and good experience. It’s like free therapy. lol. I was freaked out over nothing (as usual). 

Going to confession literally took everything in me. I’m very afraid of speaking. I’ve lost all confidence in myself and I’m kind of mute now. I wanted to sit face to face with the priest, I feel like it would’ve been a more intimate confession, but I’m too afraid to make eye contact with people. 

I know I’m genderfluid. This isn’t even to be debated. I’ve accepted it, but I’m afraid of it.

I feel like I’m slowly turning into a boy and it’s terrifying me. I get thoughts of cutting all my hair off. I want it short. I get thoughts of wrapping my boobs really tight so it looks like I don’t have any. I almost bought a tie. I really want to see what I look like in a suit but I’m too afraid to get fitted for one and getting looked at like I’m fucking crazy. I’ve even been peeing while standing up. I even argued with my dad that I was a male. I don’t understand what’s wrong with me. Why this is all happening at once. When I was younger, I was ALWAYS a boy. ALWAYS. Instead of a Barbie Jeep, I had a motorcycle. I wore camouflage pants, a black t-shirt, and my hair in a ponytail every day of my life. I don’t remember the last time I had my hair down. I was even a boy for halloween. The funny thing is, I wasn’t even dressing up. I was wearing clothes I already had and I got to be and dress how I felt. For once in my life I felt CONFIDENT. I had my hair hidden (looking like it was short), I had a snapback on, I had my pants sagging, and I don’t know but I was just so confident and happy that halloween.

I want to change my name. I want a unisex name. I’ve always liked the name Alex. It’s not completely girly, it’s tomboyish and it’s also very masculine at the same time. I feel like I’m a girl on some days and 80% of the others I feel like a boy. I want to be called Alex but don’t want to burden people with the task of calling me something other than my birth name. I also don’t want to alarm my parents. They’ll think somethings wrong with me. They’ll think I went through some traumatic experience or something that I’m not telling them about and they’ll send me to therapy. I’m afraid of coming out as asexual and I’m afraid of coming out as genderfluid. They’ll think it’s just a phase. They’ll think I’m too young to know. I don’t know why I’m feeling like this. 

I wish I could just be completely female or just completely male. I haven’t had a boyfriend in almost two years. Probably because I dress like a male 99% of the time. I’m also asexual so no boy wants to date me because I won’t let them get in my pants. 

Everything is coming at me all at once. I just got back from my vacation and now everything is in full swing. I’m moving in two days out of the house I’m currently in to move into my mom’s boyfriend’s house for a month. At the end of July I’m moving to california. On top of everything, one of my friends died yesterday. 

I really, really, really love Sia Furler.

There hasn’t really been that many artists that have impacted me the way she has. I love how her music gets me to think. She doesn’t just make teen pop garbage, she actually puts in effort. She throws in all of these different subliminal messages in her art. She makes you pick apart her videos and lyrics to find out what she meant. She gets your brain moving as she tries to make you dig deeper into the music instead of being superficial listeners. Her use of symbolism captivates me. I love everything she stands for. She not only is a huge animal advocate, but she’s also LGBT. Something I can relate to. Shes struggled with similar things that I have. She overcame drugs, alcohol, suicidal thoughts/actions, depression, anxiety. 

Still terrified of moving. 

I need a perfect 4.0 GPA in college. No exceptions. 

I’m trying to get this internship with my dream job but its highly competitive and I basically need a 4.0

I’m going to spiral out of control due to the stress, I can already tell. 

So, i graduated on monday and i really wasnt happy at all. I don’t know why. All of the pictures I took with people, you can tell my smile was really really forced. I’m just scared i think. 

Even when i went up to get my diploma i wasnt smiling. I kept my head down during the procession. I just wish i knew what the hell was wrong with me. 

I honestly think I have bipolar disorder. 

I havent posted in a while. My world is hectic and I cant even stop to think. Everything is going so fast. 

Im graduating in two weeks. I’m really nervous. I sent my teacher a long ass email explaining my fears and how I’m feeling because I can’t keep it bottled up anymore. 

I’m terrified. 

I’m moving to a new city with no friends, no family. I will be absolutely, completely, alone. I’m not saying that I don’t want to move--I do-- I’m just scared. I’m afraid I’m not going to be successful. I’m too lazy to type the rest, i really want to just lay in bed in cry. 

sounds like a plan.

I’m around the two year anniversary of me being in treatment. Clearly, I’m not even remotely recovered, just matured. I’m not sure if I blogged this before, but I’m redoing it. Bear with me. 

The day I entered treatment, I was transferred from hospital to hospital to hospital. My hair was oily, hadn’t been able to brush my teeth, I had no bra on because when they picked me up from my house, I was fresh out of the shower and was getting ready for bed. When I was in the ambulance I realized I didn’t have on a bra. Anyways, I had to wait around a few days until a bed finally opened up for me. Doesn’t that just say wonders of my states health system? I’m sure they rushed some kid out of treatment before they were even ready because I needed the room. 

Anyways, I arrived. I was on a gurney still. They wheeled me into this room with a camera. I was stripped naked and had to pee in a cup in front of a doctor. They took my necklace from me which contains a picture of a close family friend who was killed in the line of duty. 

They finally brought me into where the rest of the kids were. They were at lunch at the time. I walked in sobbing. I was embarrassed not only by my mental state but by my physical state. I didn’t have a bra on, unshaved legs, nasty hair and breath. I was humiliated. 

My first day there was awful. I tried to stay in my bedroom as long as possible. I just cried and cried and cried. Unfortunately, there’s a rule where we’re not allowed to be in our rooms for any reason during the day. We have to be in the living room. My roommate comforted me the majority of my first day. She played with my hair even though it was dirty. She gave me a bra of hers to wear and pajamas. She was such a strong and beautiful girl.

As for physical structure: the juvenile and adult facilities were close-by but had a lock on every single door. When you walk into the juvenile facility, to the left was one room (mine and my roommates) and on the ride side of the wall were 3 bedrooms. As you walk down the aisle, the living room is right there along with the counter where the nurses chilled at. There was a back room to keep all of our medication and there was another room to keep board games and some of our personal belongings when we left. There was a small tv, a table, a busted couch, and two locked windowed doors to look out at freedom. As for the physical structure of the room: the door was to remain open at all times. Next to the doorway was my roommates bed, along with a storage closet thing for her stuff and same for me on the opposite side of the room. My bed was beneath the window. At night I would look out at the moon and just try to figure out how I got to that point. There was a tiny desk we could sit at. (we never did). & a trashcan. At the foot of my bed was the bathroom door. It was one of those push open doors that you see in old western movies. The mirror was made of shatter proof metal. It was very distorted. The shower curtain was made of and held up by velcro so you couldn’t hang yourself. The fire sprinklers on the ceilings were pushed in so you couldn’t hang yourself off of that either. 

Every morning we would have to wake up at 6 and be in line for breakfast by 7. My roommate and I made a deal that I always got to use the bathroom first before I was the quickest at getting ready. Every bite and swallow was monitored if they suspected you had an eating disorder. I would be conversing with my friends and off to the side were people with clipboards making little tick marks every time that I swallowed. They banned me from going to the bathroom for two hours after I ate so I couldn’t throw up anything. 

My friends and I of course found ways to cheat the system. We would get a lot of food and when they weren’t looking, we would smash it up and pretend that we were chewing. Also, we always got bowls of cereal. It was always the easiest to consume and if you get multiple bowls it looks like you ate a lot. My roommate smuggled in razors when she came. She’s a veteran of that particular mental hospital. She knows all of the tricks and loopholes. She cut a hole inside of the padding of her bra and hid the blades there. A girl at my school who also went to that hospital told me she hid her blades on top of the door.

After breakfast was followed by non-stop therapy. Individual and group. Before our first session we had to fill out a paper every day saying how we felt and what not. Typical mental hospital: the pencils were dull as fuck and there were no erasers so we couldn’t burn ourselves. 

From around 2-6 we would just sit around and play board games. I was introduced to a card game called Speed. It was very popular within that hospital. I sucked ass at it. My roommate annihilated everyone’s existence. We weren’t allowed to exchange phone numbers or anything, so we had to code each others numbers in drawings or find another method to hide it. I had everyones numbers written down and I kept them in my bra every day 24/7. 

 I really enjoyed looking at everyones different personalities and strengths. My roommate was very loud and outgoing. She was never afraid to speak her mind. My second closest friend, was a rebel but had a very kind heart. I had a crush on one of the boys in there and my roommate told him and in front of everyone he said that I was ugly. He said I had a big nose and teeth and that still sticks to me to this day. 

I remember near the end of my stay we had to do this anger management packet. It was huge. The majority of the people in there were there for anger and law issues. I was the only one with an eating disorder. I thought it was stupid that they were making me do that dumb ass packet. I hated every minute of it. I was convinced I didn’t have an anger problem. Now, I realize that I do. Everyone else in the juvenile unit had anger issues with other people. I had anger issues with myself. I know can see my deep rooted self hatred, anger, and shame. 

The nurses were my favorite. I’ve forgotten all of their names, but one in particular played music for me from her phone because she knew I was such a musical person and I was in there for two weeks and haven’t been able to listen to music. She gave me a really long speech before I left. This other nurse always gave us candy. She was the main bitch. ~ . This guy nurse was super sassy but told me he was positive I would never wind up back in that hospital again. & he was right. I shouldve been back, but I never have. I’m too old now and would be in the adult unit (which lowkey scares the shit out of me. especially since I’m so nostalgic on my childhood).