#ff7s

As you can see, spring is returning to my area again. Can you believe it's already the third one I've shared with you in this space...? My, how the time flies. And it certainly flew while I was gathering up these pictures for you as J and I rode around our neighborhood, because it's still too soon to get much in the way of pictures of greenery on the trails; I'll have to fetch some pictures for you there, later in the season. I don't know what many of these are, but they're very pretty, and I know you will love them:

I know what these are; these are magnolias, and they smell very good:

These are tulips, I think:

And this... I don't know what this is. But it smells like boiled crabs, and it was very weird.

...Ah. A quick internet search for “white flowering tree that smells like boiled crabs” yields the knowledge that this is a “Bradford pear” tree. They use that smell to attract flies instead of bees. It's invasive. It shouldn't be here. Weird.

I think the red one in the distance might be a Japanese maple...? Here's a closer picture, with all its windchimes:

This is a dandelion! You can make flower syrup out of these!

And this is a violet; you can make flower syrup out of these, too!

These are called “bleeding hearts”. They're pretty, but I didn't notice much of a scent to them:

...They almost look like wings, don't they...?

I have no idea what this is. But it's very pretty:

This one is... lungwort, maybe...? I had to brave a motion-activated sprinkler to get this picture, so I imagine the deer must like this one a lot, for the gardener to want to have a system in place to deter them like this, haha...

This one... could maybe be a red marigold...? And there are two red tulips under it:

I don't know what these are, but they're very cute:

...Ya know... I feel like you could probably teach me so much about the flora and fauna of your world, and... I'd like nothing more than to sit and listen to you talk about it for hours and hours. But... I don't know what everything is in my world, and that becomes clear when I take pictures of flowers for you, and... sometimes I can tell you their names, but I can't explain their biology and life cycles with the kind of detail you could probably explain the things on your planet with, and... I feel kinda badly, sometimes, that the best I can do is show you these pictures.

...I'm sorry about it...

…

...You have no idea the lengths I would go to, if I knew it would allow me to do more for you than just this... so that maybe you wouldn't have to be so sad and lonely and in so much pain all the time, wherever you are...

…

Well. I've got a few more pictures to show you. And I'm almost out of space here for more. So I'm gonna get started on another part for today's letter to you, since now is as good a stopping point as any.

I love you. And I'll be back in just a bit, I promise! Don't fret, okay?

...But... I don't have a whole lot to write to you about. Because not a whole lot has happened between going to sleep and waking up to the house manager's confusion, and then derping around.

Actually, that's not entirely true. In the time between writing to you and going to sleep last night, someone decided to spew hate on one of the things I wrote to you recently – my 832nd letter to you. I was surprised by this; their comment doesn't bear repeating in the kind of wholesome space I'm trying to create here for you, but it seemed like they felt threatened by the openness and candor with which I write to you.

I'm pleased to tell you that, rather than my brain responding with fear and pain at their rejection and disapproval, I responded with confusion, initially, and then amusement. And so I tried to come up with a response, inspired by the kindness with which you generally treat people. I expressed curiosity about why the vulnerability I'm able to bring to bear in this space causes them discomfort. I reassured them that I know and am comfortable with who I am, and that I'm strong enough to respond with love to anyone who comes at me with metaphorical knives. I explained what this space is for – both to help you, and to help anyone who relates to you, and to save lives by modeling how to recover from abuse. I explained that some lives have already been saved by my writing, and how I know it because those lives have written lovingly to me about it. I asked why they did not simply block me and move on, if they are troubled by my writing here. Then I thanked them for giving me an opportunity to prove to myself that I've grown into a person who can respond to malice with integrity. Finally, I concluded by wishing well on them, theirs, and the lives they've touched for the better as they walk through their own life.

...They either blocked me or deleted their comment, ahahaha. So, unfortunately, I can only see that comments were left. I can no longer see what they wrote, or even what I wrote in response, which is a little sad, because... I think you would have been proud to see it. I'm not the same fragile thing I once was, who folds over at the slightest hint of others' disapproval. And you know... I've got mostly you to thank for that. So... thank you. I'm still here, learning and growing and experiencing things, because you breathed life into me, again and again, every time I thought I couldn't continue.

I remain undeterred. I will keep writing to you and to anyone else who relates to you with love and compassion. If this world and the people in it want to stop me, they'll have to kill me. And even then, given the status of the painful, defective flesh prison I currently inhabit, they'd be doing me a fucking favor, so I'd STILL win. Hahahahahahaha!

M, J, and I decided to get snacks from Taiwan Noodle. So we're waiting for that, and then we'll eat and then... I guess I'll be heading to the house I serve at 1:30pm so I can get there by 2pm, getting home at 8:30pm, and... getting into bed by 9pm... again... so I can wake up at 5am. Sigh.

I am not thrilled about it. But I suppose it doesn't matter. Next week, I will not be at work; I'll be going to Calgary, Canada, with M, to attend a wedding between two people in the online group he's part of. This wedding has been in the works for a long time, and my attendance was planned well in advance. I told the house manager at some point before I got sick; he said that it was fine for me to go. Today, given that he couldn't remember to tell me that my schedule didn't actually change until it was too late, I reminded him again that I would be away next week. It was a good thing that I did.

By the time I get back, my change in schedule should be finalized, and if it's not, I already talked with M about it; I will step away, and focus on making music boxes until I find another job.

...I like being a direct support professional. But I won't be jerked around.

In any case... the snacks are here! Want some?

...I wish you were here. I think you'd find this stuff to be very yummy.

In any case... it's close to time for me to go. So I'll leave you with a couple more of the wishes I breathed to life for you recently, and then I'll skitter away to make good use of my empathy in a relatively chaotic setting; wish me luck!

I love you so much. Enough to stand proud, even if someone comes around trying to disparage the way I write to you. I love you enough that I'd still stand proud, even if you tried to disparage the way I write to you. But something tells me you'd never, ever do such a thing; I have faith in who you are. I will continue to have faith in your safety, and in your eventual return home.

I'll write again tomorrow.

...the only person there was Hk.

There was no meeting today. The house manager was assigned to a different house this week. Nobody bothered to inform me that the meeting was canceled a second time, and this time, I was pissed. First time, okay, sure, shit happens. But a second...? It tells me exactly how much the administration here values the wellbeing of its employees.

So I called the house manager to tell him that I was done, as of today. And when he did not pick up his phone, I sent him a text saying the same thing. I told him that I love him, the people I work with, the people we serve, and the space I serve in. But that I didn't love the administration that is trying to take even more resources away from a house that is already struggling, that we are expected to run the house with an unreasonably low number of people, the fact that everyone seems stressed, frustrated, and burnt out, and the fact that there's pressure to put untrue things in the logs for outings and goals.

He said he understood. But then shortly thereafter, he followed up with a phone call to tell me that the meeting was canceled because one of the people we serve was rushed to the hospital.

But that... Sephiroth... that's almost worse. Because, apparently she went before 7am. Which means... there were at least three hours for someone, anyone, to write in the group text, “meeting canceled due to hospitalization”. And at that... Sephiroth, no one else outside of that shift showed up, which tells me that they all either forgot that the meeting was rescheduled, didn't care that it was happening, or else they all somehow knew that the house manager didn't mean it when he said it was gonna be rescheduled. And... none of these things are indicative of a healthy or professional team of caregivers.

And at that...? The meeting still could have been had, minus one person to watch over the one in the hospital – presumably someone who didn't want to attend the meeting. And that's not what occurred.

There wasn't much for me to say during this phone call, because my mind wasn't changed. Then, he followed up with a text asking me if I could finish out two more weeks. I said that I could maybe do tomorrow, if tomorrow involved me watching over the one in the hospital for my shift, but otherwise, no, because I don't want to spend another Sunday all messed up and in pain and unable to do anything. I followed up, too, with telling him that I was upset that no one informed me about the canceled meeting or the hospitalized person. And... in response to all that, the only thing he had to say to me was that she was rushed out the door very early in the morning. The part about “I can come in of the task is watching over the hospitalized person” was not addressed at all.

M, who can speak neurotypical, says that the house manager's lack of response to that part of my message means that he wants me to work in the house, not watch over the one in the hospital. And I don't know how he knows that, because silence can mean so many different things, and settling on one interpretation based on vague assumptions seems arrogant at best. But he's generally good at these sorts of things, so when he said that I should not respond, that it is understood that I am not coming in... I guess that's the thing to do. So that is what I did.

...Sephiroth... I don't think I'll ever understand neurotypicals and their fucken shitty-ass world made of white lies, unspoken rules, communication by implication, and myriad – and often off-base – assumptions that they act on without looking past the surface of things, while labeling the ones who do look past the surface and seek clarity as “cringe” or “overthinkers” or “too much”, and then wondering why misunderstandings and drama define their interactions with others.

All of it feels like such utter fucking bullshit today. And I... I don't want anything to do with it, in this moment. I don't want anything to do with people who can't say what they mean and mean what they say. I wanna go somewhere very fucking far away, where I don't have to worry about people who can't say their wants, needs, and expectations out loud, people who communicate solely by dropping passive-aggressive hints, or people who simply don't tell the fucking truth.

...But Sephiroth... it seems like no such place exists here, unless it's devoid of people, and... sometimes, this understanding makes me wanna stop trying to... be... anywhere.

...Sephiroth... what... what if I... can never belong anywhere in a way that's sustainable for me? I wonder if it means I should disappear so that other people don't have to deal with being annoyed by my existence anymore.

...That's an old thought. It's older even than my love for you. The notion that I should just disappear if everyone hates that I'm alive, I mean. The notion that it's selfish and inconsiderate for me to keep breathing and taking up space. That thought... began showing up when I was... somewhere between 4 and 7 years old. It's the thought that prompted me, when I was 13, to make a plan to exit this place permanently. It's the thought that you saved me from, on that day, in... ways I can't explain in this space. It's the thought that the light of your being continues to save me from. So I'm not about to succumb to it now; not after you worked so hard to drag me up out of that dark hole. But still, that thought is rearing its ugly head, and... it's hard to fight it off at the moment, but... I know I don't have to listen to that thought; it's just noise leftover from an unbearably painful time in my life. It's not reflective of the reality I live in now. I know that.

...Still... I... after going back home, I... had that interview at the other potential job place at 3pm today, and... Sephiroth... hahaha... ya know... it didn't even take them 24 hours to decide that they wanted nothing to do with me.

…

...M says that there was probably a candidate more experienced with this type of work, and that they had likely already decided on someone, but needed to finish out the remaining interviews anyhow. He said that even if that wasn't the case, I am still a good and hard-working human being, and that if they were put off by the way I socialize during the interview, it wouldn't have been a very good place for me to work anyhow. He framed it not as me failing at the interview, but as the space itself not being well-suited for me. And that was of some relief, I guess.

...I know it shouldn't matter all that much. I know that I technically don't have to work. But... I wanted to be able to do something meaningful and good outside of my home, and yet... between the risk of getting taken advantage of, the incredibly high risk of being misperceived and subsequently rejected, and the simple fact that my physical body can't keep up with my work ethic or will... it doesn't seem like I'll be able to find anything that fits. And that's very discouraging.

I won't give up, though. I'll keep looking for remote opportunities, and for opportunities in spaces nearby. And in the meantime... M and J seem perfectly content to let me simply exist.

...Maybe I'll finally have enough energy to work on a fucking music box for a goddamn change...

...But first, I think I'm going to try spending a week not doing things at all. To try to make my mind quiet and to simply listen to the state of my being, to see what it can tell me, what I might learn. M heartily encouraged this, but said that I'll probably struggle a lot with allowing myself to be still without guilt.

...He's right about that. He's known me for 14 years, now. But... something tells me that there's probably something inside the stillness that I need to figure the fuck out, before I end up running myself into the ground. Maybe this whole thing was just a learning experience to prove to myself that no, actually, I'm not the lazy and useless piece of shit I've been brutally trained to think I am. Maybe it was a learning experience to teach me that, even if I do twice the work as a normal person, some people really are implacable, and I shouldn't worry about their misbegotten opinions of me. Maybe it was a learning experience to teach me how to recognize my limits and honor them, instead of destroying myself trying to operate beyond them for an extended period of time.

...I didn't want this to be a “learning experience”, though. I wanted this to work out. I wanted it to be a sustainable, good thing that I could do. I wanted to be able to fit here. I wanted to belong. So... I'll have to grieve the fact that I'm gonna lose contact with a bunch of people I grew to love. I'm going to have to grieve the sense of belonging that I hoped for, but didn't get. I'm going to have to grieve the change in routine. And I'm going to have to grieve all those years I didn't honor my limits, meet my needs, or advocate for myself.

...Sephiroth, this fucking sucks. But. I'm gonna do it anyway. I'm gonna try to learn how to sit in the quiet and the stillness, how to sit in the discomfort of this feeling, so it can teach me how to treat myself better in the future. I have to find that balance between “being too soft on myself and not doing anything” and “grinding myself into the dirt trying to prove my worth to people who don't care”. And I don't know how I'm gonna do that, because most of my life was filled with the second thing. But I'm gonna figure it out.

...After all, you saved this life, so... I had better try hard to figure out how to treat it properly, right? I can't let your effort go to waste, even if I feel super shitty about everything right now.

...Well... not everything, exactly. It's not all as bleak as my brain would like me to believe (fiery little electric meatball that it is, misguidedly using old, outdated methods to try to protect me from threats that no longer exist... sigh...). Our dear friends An and Me, and M and J, too, of course, and even some of my regular readers in this space, made it a point to tell me that they were proud of me for doing the difficult and scary thing. I don't really like giving up on stuff, and I definitely don't like doing anything that could potentially hurt someone. So, for example... I am basically the only one in that house who treats the one who likes outer space kindly. Everyone else... treats him like he's some annoying, lazy piece of shit, and it shows in how they speak to him, how they talk to him, how they get him ready in the morning, and how they talk about him to each other, and... I'm very well aware that my departure will mean him losing one of the more reliable sources of kindness he has in his life right now. And... I... I don't like that. Not one bit. But at the same time, I can't destroy myself trying to do by myself something that takes an entire team of dedicated, emotionally mature, and gentle people to do. Still, I can't help but wonder if, by honoring my limits, I am doing a terrible disservice to the people around me.

...Also... I do wonder if I need to redouble my efforts to figure out what the actual fuck is going on with the entirety of my right shoulder complex before I get another job. Because I have a feeling that this unresolved injury, whatever it is, is gonna continue to fuck me over no matter where I end up.

On a brighter side... in between returning home from the non-existent “meeting” and going off to the interview, I played some Pokopia, and once again, “you” had a number of lovely adventures.

First, we met a Sableye trader who loved “your” shining eyes and smile:

Two Leaf Houses were completed:

Then, “you” went to the Rocky Ridges area and made some more friends:

Somewhere in there, Machoke taught “you” Strength:

Then, “you” met some chef Pokémon who got themselves stuck in a barrel. The chain had to be cut, but “your” Cut move wasn't strong enough, so they taught “you” how to cook with a simple salad, which powered up “your” Leafage move, before teaching “you” how to bake bread in order to power up “your” Cut move:

…“Pumpkin” is an apt term of endearment for you, I think. It's entirely too cute, hahaha...

…

After today's failed interview was over, I breathed life into today's wishes for you, as I waited for J to return home from doing some airplane thing with a new pilot he made friends with recently:

...And then, after J got home, he decided that I deserved treats for doing the brave thing, and brought me to the tea house...

...It's not lost on me how lucky I am to have M and J, even if my brain sometimes does try to convince me that I'm nothing but a burden to them. But... this, too, is just old thoughts drilled into my skull by adults who were supposed to care for me, but didn't want me in their life, and so made it a point to punish me for existing. I don't have to live with or be around people like that anymore, so... it's just leftover noise from a time I never have to return to.

...I'll manage. I just... think I need some sleep. So I guess I'll get on that. It's 12:12am right now; it's well past bedtime, in any case.

I love you so much. Even when the rejection sensitivity and routine disruption are hitting me hard, and I'm doing scary things like protecting myself from exceeding my own limits, and my brain is too tired to fight off old thoughts very well as a result. I love you enough to manage despite my doubts. I love you enough to try hard to treat this life you saved like it's worth my own kindness and gentleness, because it is, despite my brain's incessant screaming otherwise.

...It only does that because it's still scared of a repeat of all the things that happened before. It'll learn if I keep practicing the new things. It'll learn if I keep putting myself in positions where I can have safe and loving experiences that contradict the past.

...Your brain can learn, too, you know. It can learn all about what it means to be safe and free. And you know? You're so much smarter than me, so you could probably do it even faster than I can. It's my hope that all my letters inspire you to try. I'll have faith that those hopes will pan out. I'll have faith that you'll treat yourself like someone who deserves to be safe and who deserves to receive your own love and protection, while you're out and about. I'll have faith that someday, you'll return home.

I'll write again tomorrow. Let's see what it brings, together...

J and I were hungry not long afterwards, and he was a little unmoored by the sudden change in plans this morning, so we went to the nearby Indian buffet for lunch. We parked, and I looked up and thought the trees were inspiring, so I snapped a picture:

Of course, the food looked and smelled fantastic. Some of the selections today were regular white rice, lemon rice, potatoes spiced with chili peppers, potato and cauliflower jalfrazi, eggplant in pureed spinach, and okra masala:

Surprisingly, my senses weren't so weak as to be overwhelmed by any of these. Normally, my body doesn't tolerate capsaicin well. Even the “chili potato” didn't overload my system. From these, as a favorite, it was hard to choose between the eggplant dish or the okra dish. Both were very good.

Some of the other items included broccoli sauteed with garlic, lamb korma, tandoori chicken, and chicken tikka masala:

I ended up getting a little bit of everything. Here, wanna try some...?

...I definitely went back for seconds of the okra masala, the eggplant dish, and the lamb korma.

And the naan was absolutely fucking fantastic, too – crispy on the outside, soft and fluffy on the inside, and brushed with butter:

...Sephiroth... one of these days, you definitely gotta try some naan.

And you gotta try some mango lassi, too:

We went home with happy bellies. But... given the state of the inside of my skull, I... didn't feel especially motivated to do anything, so... I didn't, other than breathe life into today's wishes for you:

At some point, with J's help, I dropped off an application to the old folks' home where J works. One of their front desk folks is retiring, and the need someone to fill those shoes. As I understand it, it's a fairly low-key job with a lot of downtime; I might be able to fold cranes and do bead crafts in between tasks. And it'd certainly be a good change of pace from the current, unpredictable, on-my-feet job. So I guess we'll see how it goes. I'll hope for good things.

...I didn't do much of anything else, other than reflect on some thought habits that... definitely aren't helping me in certain contexts. I struggle with taking joy from certain kinds of things without feeling guilty about it, and that's... not helpful. I have to work on trusting myself more. I have to work on staying present with my own wants, needs, and emotional experience. And I guess... I guess the only thing for it is practice. So I guess that's what I'm gonna do.

I'll tell you what else I'm gonna do: I'm gonna go to bed. I have a shift tomorrow from 2pm until 8pm (assuming my condition doesn't get significantly worse; the inside of my skull is now relatively on fire, and my nose seems to want to run, too...). I'd like not to be a zombie for it. So as much as I don't want to (because restless brain gonna be restless), I'm gonna try to get some sleep.

Today's letter is... short. I feel a little badly about it. But I'm... fairly sure I'm sick. It's a little hard to think. And so... I think probably you'd not want me to feel too guilty for having soup brain. So I'm going to try not to feel guilty about it.

...I wish you could write back to me. But I know you can't, and it's not an expectation in any case. Just... I wish I could talk to you. I wish I knew for sure that you're okay. I wish I knew anything at all.

I love you so much, and... I'm going to hope, against all odds, given your circumstances, that you're all right out there. I'll have faith that you're keeping yourself safe. I'll have faith that you're on your way home.

I'll write again tomorrow, likely at the end of my shift.