✧*

When I was younger I was very right-wing. I mean…very right-wing. I won’t go into detail, because I’m very deeply ashamed of it, but whatever you’re imagining, it’s probably at least that bad. I’ve taken out a lot of pain on others; I’ve acted in ignorance and waved hate like a flag; I’ve said and did things that hurt a lot of people.

There are artefacts of my past selves online – some of which I’ve locked down and keep around to remind me of my past sins, some of which I’ve scrubbed out, some of which are out of my grasp. If I were ever to become famous, people could find shit on me that would turn your stomach.

But that’s not me anymore. I’ve learned so much in the last ten years. I’ve become more open to seeing things through others’ eyes, and reforged my anger to turn on those who harm others rather than on those who simply want to exist. I’ve learned patience and compassion. I’ve learned how to recognise my privileges and listen to others’ perspectives. I’ve learned to stand up for others, how to hear, how to help, how to correct myself. And I learned some startling shit about myself along the way – with all due irony, some of the things I used to lash out at others for are intrinsic parts of myself.

You wouldn’t know what I am now from what I was then. You wouldn’t know what I was then from what I am now.

It distresses me deeply to think of someone dredging up my dark, awful past and treating me as though that furiously hateful person is still me. It distresses me to see others dredging up the past for anyone who has made efforts to become a better person, out of some sick obsession with proving they’re “problematic.”

The obsession with finding shit in someone’s past and then claiming that a questionable or even sordid past negates all possibility of a good present needs to become extinct. Gold-star activism and purity culture are bullshit and we need to collectively reject the fuck out of them.

We really need to start asking where this purity bullshit came from. I’m not  Christian and was not raised Christian but there has been a lot evidence that much of gold star activism and purity culture originated in of evangelical youth movements and then infiltrated progressive left-wing and center-left politics when those youth left their churches but failed to leave behind the black-n-white puritanical “you’re going to hell if you stray one inch from the righteous path” style of thinking they were taught.

I distinctly remember some conversations I had in the late 00s and very early 2010s with long time social justice activists who were baffled and disturbed by the new crop of youth activists who were practicing something that was decidedly NOT social justice despite stealing that phrase from us.

In the decade and a half that has passed since then, all of this gold-star activism and purity culture has done exactly what I predicted back then: empowered the far-right while sowing division everywhere.

A random person who had a moderately shady past or fucked up views before shouldn’t need to flog themselves to show how penitent they are beyond just doing better now, just to be able to live their life in peace, but if someone is campaigning to get political power and all they have to say for their life up to that point being a field of red flags, it isn’t enough for them to say “well I’m not like that now” if they haven’t actually achieved anything that makes up for it in the opposite direction.

i’ve identified as bisexual for a really long time. like it was one of the first things i told jp (my husband) when we started dating long time. jp has never had a problem with my queerness. but when we started dating in january of 2018, i didn’t have all of the orientation pieces. and so despite my previous unexciting experiences, i had sex. and i had sex because i thought that’s what i was supposed to do. because that’s what you do in. relationship, right? sex is “supposed” to be a big part of a relationship. and i cannot stress enough how consensual all of the sex was. but it didn’t feel fantastic like i was told it would. i didn’t think about it as much as i was supposed to. there was no bliss. my toes didn’t curl and my eyes didn’t roll to the back of my head. i just didn’t enjoy it. it was boring. i was too aware of the mechanics of what was happening. so i never once thought “oooh this is nice,” my thoughts most of the time were “it’s kinda weird there’s something in me right now.” and “is it almost over i’m getting bored” and “am i faking well enough?”

and i thought not enjoying it meant there was something wrong with me. and since it was a me thing, and not anyone’s fault, i had sex. i just pretended that i liked it the way that society told me i should.

so me and my husband had sex when we started dating because it was something he wanted and i didn’t mind doing, even though it was boring.

but this past year i realized and came to terms with the fact my disinterest in sex wasn’t a nerve problem like my gynecologist said or trauma based like an old therapist said or any other explanation offered to me by anyone from friends to medical professionals. my disinterest in sex was because i don’t experience that kind of attraction.

and when i finally figured it out i was kinda devastated. because i was faced with either a) continuing to pretend to enjoy it, or b) coming out to jp. i knew he wouldn’t take it badly because i love and trust him, but i can know something is true and still not believe it. so i was scared but decided to come out even though the thought literally made me sick. i cried and apologized and told him how horrible i felt that i “lied” to him for years and how terrified i was that he was going to think i wasn’t attracted to him anymore or that i wasn’t ever attracted to him in the first place. i had to tell a man that i’d been having sex with for years that i didn’t really want to anymore. that for me it was boring and i didn’t enjoy it and i could never get out of my head long enough to experience the closeness and intimacy sex can bring. i hold to tell him that i’d never enjoyed it. and i’d realized that i didn’t know if i’d ever truly want to have sex, but i didn’t mind it. he would just have to let me know when it was something he wanted.

and do you all want to know what his response was?

he asked if he’d ever hurt me. and then he asked what my boundaries are. and then he thanked me for telling him. and then he said he married me because he loved me, not because i’d fuck him.

so me and my husband used to have sex. and now we don’t because six years into our relationship i realized i was aspec. and we haven’t had sex since i came out to him, and we hadn’t for months prior to me coming out. and he hasn’t even tried or asked for anything sexual, despite me telling him that i didn’t mind having sex, just that he would have to be the one to bring it up because i don’t ever think about it. but he hasn’t brought it up. not once. because he knows it’s about like going to the pharmacy for me.

so my husband doesn’t have sex with me because he loves me. because he cares about me. because he wants me to be happy. because when he asked me to go on that very first date it was because he thought i was smart and enthusiastic and funny and “lovely.” because he knew he was in it for the long haul when he watched me shotgun a red bull in a harbor freight parking lot at 7:30 pm on a thursday.

that’s kind of what marriage is about. the whole loving and wanting to take care of and cherishing your significant other thing. sex has never been a big part of the equation.

jp stayed with me the first six months of my sobriety. for the past seven years of my sobriety, actually. he stayed even though one time i had three tequila shots too many and yarffed all over him. and then again in his floorboards. he stayed when my grief made me shut down and shut out for over a year. he stayed with me when that grief made me so depressed i’d spend days at a time just staring at a wall. or hours and hours reading fanfic so the only thoughts i had in my head belonged to someone else. he stayed even though i don’t remember most of 2023. he’s stayed through every good thing and bad thing and in between thing and literally every single thing for the past nearly seven years.

There have been long (I'm talking years long) stretches of my marriage where sex is a rare if ever thing. I am probably allosexual? (Idk it's weird and for me it is a trauma thing) But I am also physically disabled and have severe mental illness

There have been long stretches where sex is just not an option for me because I am in too much pain or I it is too distressing for me to enjoy

Or my libido just dies!

My husband is understanding. He'd like sex but as long as we make time to have non sexual physical intimacy he is fine.

As he told me once when I was crying and feeling guilty about it "I have a hand"

We have been married over 20 years and are still going strong.

Do you think my husband should leave me because I am physically disabled and mentally ill?

Because fuck you.

His response: "No, it's my name now."

I went to the pharmacist yesterday, his nametag is my deadname. He informed me he's immigrating and in the process he's changed his first name to my deadname to have an English sounding name. That's why he's now able to get a reprint of his nametag to be my deadname. And repeated, with the intense seriousness of someone who is going to die on this hill: "It's mine now. Not yours. I'm taking." His tone indicated that decision is final.

(Translation by ME)

Left: Me, as a main character, can choose one of two options. To leave the stage with someone's help, or to stand on the stage with my power & enjoy the new challenge. I chose the latter.

Right: If there is no happiness or sadness happening, you cannot really reckon you 'met' someone even if you did. You did, but you did not.

Left: Not a dramatic escape, but a nice and steady salvation. Living those days, oblivious of the other saving me.

Right: I should put myself on the center and shan't make my heart as hell. If I'm gone, the whole universe collapses.

Left: Infection has a clear rule and boundaries.

I used to prep, wash dishes, and cook at mellow mushroom. I had chronic pain that wasn't NEARLY as bad as it is today, but it was still very debilitating. I told my employer "i cannot stand more than 4 to 6 hours. I CANNOT do shifts longer than this due to my illness." And even though i made my boundaries VERY clear, everyday i worked it was 8 hours at the least and 10 or 12 at the most. I would go up to my manager and say "look i really need to leave, my shift is over, my chronic pain is killing me." And he'd say "we really need to here, you HAVE to push through." And so i did, and after one, ONE month of that job my crps got incredibly worse to the point where i could no longer walk my dog around the block which was .5 miles. I quit, and that was FOUR years ago, and ever since that day I HAVE BEEN BEDRIDDEN AND HAVE TO USE A WHEELCHAIR. It is my biggest regret in life.

My best friend who has seen my whole journey has recently developed undiagnosed chronic pain, and she is in the EXACT same scenario i was 4 years ago. Busting her ass at a pizza place with extreme pain that hurts her so much she tells me "im in so much pain i don't even feel like a person." She doesn't feel LUCID. And her manager and coworkers are saying the same thing "if you don't help us you will let us down, we'll be in the shit."

I didn’t even realize 🍎 was Lucifer until you posted

It is a legitimate tactic for defusing a situation that could otherwise escalate to become quite nasty.