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"I'm never dating a man again. I'm not attracted to them. I don't like having sex with them. I don't think they understand me. I don't think they make good art" – Chapell Roan
So on top of the outright stupidity of the final sentence (dude wtf are you talking about), I have a specific problem with this kind of rhetoric that I don't feel gets enough air: it feels lowkey transphobic.
Cuz when you say "I hate men" you're not talking about trans men. I know you're not. You mean real m- wait, I mean normal- uh- 😬 See the problem?
When you define manliness/maleness as all the worst traits of generic cis straight men, it becomes clear that when you think of "men," you don't mean Ash, the five-foot-nothing trans guy in the apartment below yours who made you brownies when you first moved in, or even the cis gay couple across the hall with the Shih-Tzu named Judy. You mean your high school boyfriend, or the creepy guy on the bus who stares at you with his bag over his lap, or your abusive father.
And those guys are absolutely worthy of your disgust and hatred, but by using them to define maleness you essentially undercut the maleness of men who don't fit those parameters, trans or otherwise. Worse, you imply that one has to choose between being a man and being a good person, another reason this rhetoric is counterproductive at best.
I like Chapell Roan btw, and I don't think she or anyone who says this is transphobic for it, just to be clear. I just think this is the kind of rhetoric that you should outgrow by the time you're out of high school. College at the latest.
My brain is full of reasons to give up.
It thinks that they will help.
They do, I guess.
Here's the thing: how do I stop myself
from needing to know how to fix things?
Am I just going to be this lonely, this lost, forever?
When do I get that shot of forward motion
that comes when people realize they'll die?
I know I'm dying, I know this is death.
I'm still not doing anything.
You know that thing people tell you to do, where you're supposed to write down all the things that you're grateful for? How do I do that?
I'm nearly 30 and my parents pay for basically everything. Part of this is the result of most of my twenties being spent in some version of a mental health crisis, but most of it is just due to the fact that they have the money and I'm a fucking mess who apparently can't function on my own. I don't deserve it.
To clarify, I'm not, like, profligate or anything; I live well within the means of an average to good junior salary in NYC, and I have some freelance sources of income. But I haven't had a real job for like 5 years (I've been actively applying for months, but I am yet to receive a single fucking rejection, let alone an interview), and right now I'm essentially being paid a salary just to not kill myself...
So yeah: I have too much. I don't deserve it, and I have done very little to earn it. Whenever I write a list of things I am grateful for, I invariably feel worse because I'm wasting them. I imagine what someone else would do with this life, with these advantages.
It's supposed to make you notice all the ways your life's good, right? Well all it does is fill me with shame for living a life this good so badly. I am ashamed that I am comfortable and haven't earned it; I am ashamed that people love me when I'm difficult to love; I am ashamed that I was born able-bodied, with a good mind, and have used neither for anything of any note.
Abstract: Someone invited me to a party and since I’m a crazy person who is both impossibly lonely and unendingly afraid of rejection, I have no idea how to make myself go to it.
Okay, backstory: I’m 28, 29 next month. Just out of an intensive therapy program*, looking for a job, sitting on a bunch of theater projects that I’ve taken as far as they can go without collaborators, friendless, loveless, and FEELING entirely unable to meet people. (I added “feeling” because I got yelled at by the little Marsha Linehan in my brain.)
I fell out with my best/only friend of over a decade like 5 years ago, because I was depressed and pessimistic and generally just exhausting to talk to. I’m better at expressing myself now (hooray for therapy) and am on better meds, so that’s nice. And honestly, I think we probably could work through it but, out of a combination of anger, fear, stubbornness, and self-hatred, I’ve just never reached out again. It’s hard not to feel like she’s better off for it, much as part of me misses her.
Right, so there’s the specific problem in a nutshell: “she’s better off for it”. I consider myself a burden, and I don’t want people to feel like they have to shoulder me. But see, a big part of what makes me exhausting to be friends with is that when people try to reach out to me I push them away: “Don’t do this to yourself, you think you know what you’re signing up for but you don’t. Nobody can save me.” etc. I’m constantly trying to protect people from me, and I’ve been in therapy long enough to know that’s really just me protecting myself from the moment that they run out of patience and leave me. (Can’t be abandoned if I’m already alone to begin with! Perfect logic, going great, thanks for asking.)
When people seem to like me, I immediately worry about when they’ll start disliking me. When they invite me to things, I assume they are doing it out of pity, or because someone else cancelled. (Sometimes my brain creates whole paranoid fantasies about my mother paying people to try to jumpstart my social life, though so far I’ve always recognized those for the absurdity of that.)
At parties, I am in a constant low-grade panic: I’m supposed to be contributing, I’m supposed to be top of the conversation leaderboard. Why did that person go get a drink? Was it because they were thirsty, or because they needed a way out of the conversation with this sweaty weirdo? Who’s looking? What are they thinking? At no point can I stop performing the role of “charming/interesting person”.
Even when I’m having sex, all I can think about is if I’m doing it right, if they’re happy, if they’re regretting it, if they saw whatever part of my body I hate that week, and in the light I hate it in. I’ve never been in bed with someone I felt safe enough with not to perform.
Intellectually I know it’s not fair to try to control every moment of every person’s experience of me. People should be allowed to make their own decisions, to love me when I don’t, to find me attractive when I disagree. And more importantly, I know it doesn’t work! People can like me or dislike me as much as they want, regardless of my permission. But I’m still so stuck on the feeling that I need to be ON all the time, and that every interaction has the possibility of hurt within it.
Suggestions? (Thanks for reading this epic regardless XD)
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
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Free to watch • No registration required • HD streaming
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