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Like an 11 year old lost at a train station

When I was 11 my mother and step dad put me on an Amtrack to Seattle, alone. Outside Seattle, near Tacoma, was where my much older brother lived and where I was to spend that summer.

I hadn’t seen him since he was about 16, maybe once for Christmas, because like my sister as well, he moved in with my aunt and uncle at 16.

He was about 21 now and living in an apartment complex managed by his dad (different from my own). I don’t know what possessed my step father to agree to such a scheme, that was no doubt my mother’s idea. He was usually so by the book. Who ever thought an 11 year old should spend the summer with a 21 year old?

On the way to Seattle I remember seeing bison for the first time, grazing in a field early that morning. I was terrified. I had never been to a larger city than Spokane, and definitely not alone. 

I brought my boombox and some clothes and was sure I’d get mugged or kidnapped as soon as I got off the train. But no, my brother would be there waiting, right? I got off the train and wandered aimless, clutching my boombox close and looking for my brother, hoping I would recognize him. I wanted to avoid anyone official who might find out my age and that I’m not actually old enough to ride alone. He was an hour late and I remember being so angry. He had no idea what it was like growing up in podunk towns and just thrown into a big city alone at 11. He didn’t answer the phone and I had no one else to call. Alone.

London tube

I often feel like that in public. Scared, confused, ignorant of every right thing to do or say. I look at people like “I don’t know you, but save me.” I see people as uncomfortable with my awkwardness and wanting to get away from me, so I just do it for them and try to stay away. But not after saying something stupid first usually.

I don’t know how to interact with people. Do I look at their eyes? How long? do I look like I’m not interested? I’m trying to be interested, but I can’t stop thinking about what I’m doing. Am I acting noticeably weird? How can I relate to what they say?

I will never be well adjusted, social, personable, just weird. Say weird things, die inside every time I meet a stranger. Since I’m the age I am and still feel like this, Its hard to feel like it can change.

That summer was awful. My brother had people over partying just about every night. He got me drunk on cheap wine, which I puked up every night because, as I would find out years later, I’m allergic to red dye. His friends had sex next to me as I slept on the couch. One of his friends tried to get me to give him a handjob while I was drunk (I’m 11 remember). He didn’t buy food so I rarely ate and when I did it was Burger King, where he worked.

I stayed with him at 15 as well as part of an agreement with my mom to get me out of the girl’s home (another long story). Repeat that same summer, except replace booze with cocaine and other drugs. Add self mutilation and multiple food poisonings. Thanks big bro. We haven’t talked in 20 years and I don’t miss him a bit. Sounds harsh but it’s not two shitty summers that prompted that. A childhood of him torturing me and berating me helped, followed by some trust breaking in my late teens.


Hurrah USA. Just about everyone has a gun and I’ve been lucky enough to be in the right states to have them pointed at me. To me, this is utterly unacceptable. No one should have to fear for their lives from every angry looking redneck that passes by, and no one should want a weapon designed to kill other humans with. It’s just completely mad and we shouldn’t accept it as normal. Decent people don’t resolve shit with guns.

1. Libby Montana, age 11, 1991.

It was a summer day and I was living with my step dad and mother in a ranch that was the last house on the mountain about 10 miles out of town. I basically did what I wanted, no one supervised me, so whenever I wasn’t roaming the grizzly bear filled forest alone, I was probably playing with an animal or riding my mom’s horse, Matee. He was a stubborn horse and had already tried to kill me a couple times. He loved to run and didn’t like to be told what to do, so if he wanted to go, he went, and there was nothing you could do.

I had never ridden him on a trail and he wasn’t very good at picking his feet up when I tried training him for trails. He’d hit his feet on every 2×4 I put on the ground, and that’s pretty low. The chances of him clearing rocks and roots wasn’t great. However, I took him anyway on a trail I’d never been on that led down the mountain. What could go wrong.

The trip down was uneventful, but I remember our final destination well. We found an abandoned house with opened doors and a gated corral. I put Matee in the corral and started to explore the house

It was straight out of the 60s. Pinks and blues and big mirrored walls. Of course it was all peeling and weathered, and covered in grime. There were these cool Pepsi bottles that someone had heated up and warped into interesting vases, and a dark bedroom I was convinced a bear must live in. After poking around a bit I went back outside to check on the horse when from across the field a guy yells something and shoots a gun towards me. 1, it’s an abandoned house, 2, I’m there with a horse so it’s not like I’m looting, and 3, I’m a fucking blonde 12 year old girl. No matter to him. I jump on the horse and we get to hauling ass back up the mountain.

Now, since Matee got into his head that it was time to go home, he wouldn’t stop running and I couldn’t stop him. Turning him in a circle is the only way once he got like that and there was no room. I had no choice but to hang on to his neck and keep my head down as he jumped logs and raced up the hill. Suddenly hr had no problem picking his feet up. When we finally came to an old logging road I turned him hard until he stopped, got off, and walked the rest of the way. Insane horse but I miss him.

2. Also Libby Montana, age 14, 1994.

This time it was a cabin my mom was renting by herself. Her and my stepdad had gotten divorced and my life had been basically ruined in the last 2 years. I was on a home visit from a girls home I was for one week. It was the only visit I would get in the 2 years I was in that place.

My mom is historically bad with animals and unendingly selfish. She rented this place knowing it had no room for horses. However she liked the Montana Woman image and didn’t want to give up Matee. When I arrived I found that he now spent his time tied to a tree in the yard. She recently had adopted a dog that I thought I’d get to meet, but in the Montana woman style, she put it in the back of her truck and it jumped out and died. She sucks,

Anyway, I was 14 and already knew there was no point telling her what I thought, plus. I decided to spend my time there with Matee as much as possible for both our sakes, and as little time as possible with my mom.

He was much calmer and more mature than the last time I had ridden him. He was a tall, red, tennessee walker cross. Before she bought him he was a rodeo horse whose only job was to run full speed around the arena with a flag (and a human). He was young and definitely a project horse. However now he seemed much more reserved and actually happy to see me, despite our background of him trying to kill me three times.

I never liked putting bridles/bits or anything on horses, and my mom had sold my saddle anyway, so I happily rode him bareback with a nose bridle and worked on mane training him (so he’d ideally not even need that). My mom pointed me towards a field that she said I could ride in, saying that she had the neighbours permission. I didn’t know how he’d act in the open like that, given his background, but he was being really great. I started to canter a little and he went a little faster, but not a full bolt like he usually did. I was impressed that I was balancing at a gallop bareback with no worry of falling since I hadn’t ridden in years. I knew my mom rarely rode him and never did anything but walk, so he needed a run. We got to the end of the field near a house and suddenly a huge Saint Bernard runs up to us barking. Matee rears up, and I’m sure I’ll be thrown off, but I’m somehow not. When his legs land I realize that behind the dog is a hefty looking Montana woman with a shotgun pointed at me. A child on a horse. She demands to know who I am and I tell her and ask her why she doesn’t recognize the horse at least. She leaves, I leave, thanks mom.

3. Libby Montana, 2014.

You are probably wondering what the hell is wrong with Libby… and oh boy do I have stories of that horror story of a town. This time however neither myself nor my mother lived there anymore. However, I took my partner there, in our 30s now, to see one of the many places I had grown up. Most particularly to visit the Lookout Tower where I lived for a summer with my mom and see what state the ranch was in.

No horses for this one, just our F350 truck with Florida plates. We were exploring some forest service roads, as we always do, when we came to an ATV parked in the middle of the road, a young guy and girl in it, and no intention of moving. We wait a second before just squeezing by, because you don’t talk to rednecks in the middle of nowhere if you don’t have to and definitely not people who obviously want to start shit with people. We give them a nod as we pass, as is the small town way (usually), and drive on. Not 100 feet away yet and we see in the rear view mirror that he’s pointing a riffle at us. Good times.

4. Portland, Oregon drive-by, 2004.

This time was an actual close call. I was working at an ice cream distributor on a hot summer day. The owner was too cheap to pay for air conditioning, despite his $200 a day electricity bill for his walk in freezer. So I ran the whole front end of the place by myself in the heat and with almost all windows and a corner door. Behind the front-end was his office and his gigantic bank safe with tens of thousands in cash in it at all times.

Anyway, the day was wrapping up. Most distributors are done selling by around 5 or 6 and we only had one customer outside loading up his freezer for the next day. The owner had his very old mother visiting from England. She was sitting out front with me, sitting on a couch waiting to be taken home. I was probably counting money in the bill counter when we heard shots. I didn’t have much time to think about what was going on, let alone think it would effect me. But somehow this Cockney man who grew up in a country without any public gun ownership to speak of, caught on fast. He had been standing in front of his safe when the shots started or he would have been shot. We later saw several holes in the door behind the safe. The customer outside was bent over his chest freezer in the back of his truck. Bullets hit on either side of him, piercing the freezer and his truck bed. I had a single bullet zip past my head and hit a clock on the wall, then bounce, and land on my boss’s mother’s folded over coat lying next to her. He runs out of his office and tells us we’re stupid and should get down, as if me or an 85+ year old british woman would have imagined a drive by was happening… to an ice cream shop…

The shooter was actually shooting back at a car that had done a drive by on his house. Shooting straight down the street into our storefront, with people clearly outside and probably inside. So sure, not technically a drive by, but does it fucking matter? .

5. Priest River Idaho, 2016.

I also grew up a little in Priest River, but it was nothing like Libby, or so I thought. I hadn’t been to Priest River since I was 9 years old but now we had stayed a couple months in or nearby that Summer. I decided one evening to go ride my dualsport motorcycle in the Hoodoo Mountains across the river, because they’re called the Hoodoos dammit.

It was a good ride, almost completely forest service roads, some of which just end abruptly and others that go all the way to towns on the other side of the range. I go about half way through them and decide to turn around and go south so I can loop back to Priest River on a road that goes along the river. I come around a blind corner to a couple of rednecks standing on the side of the road with their truck, and one of them pointing a gun directly at me. They had decided that ON THE ROAD was a really good place to put a target. The whole damn forest and they choose a public road. I was so pissed I was tempted to turn around and kick the fucking target down or yell at them, but then again…GUN. So, fuck you guys.

In fact, fuck all guns. If you just can’t be torn away from your precious little security blankets (read baby blanket), keep them in lockers at shooting ranges, in gun safes, away from other people who have the right to not have their lives threatened. None of you know what you’re doing so stop pretending to be GI-Jackasses.

I’m sure we’ll have more guns pointed at us in the future, so till then, keep your head down!

Foolish #anxietyrant

Photo: Brickel Key, Miami. A population of “wild” iguanas live on the island. The island has just a couple high rise condos and no other reason to visit unless you live there, unless you like Iguanas. Walking across the bridge and looking down at the bay, I saw a giant shadow under the water that freaked me right the hell out. A local said they can’t imagine what it could have been that close to land but shit it was nightmare material. And I’m not afraid of fish, or whales, or even alligators, I’m afraid of shadows under the water.

Having what you want is stressful

My shops are doing awful this month. I don’t know what’s wrong, suddenly nothing I make is popular thanks to some Ellen episode I’ll never see because I haven’t had cable in a decade.

I spend my days lately pulling my hair out trying to get people to come back to my shop. I’m trying to revise listings and add new stuff while I wait it out but I need to get some actual work done. The Ritalin isn’t cutting it.

It just has to be the month we move into a house and spend a ton on furniture that I have no money at all to chip in. I feel torn in a million directions, 10,000 for every tab open on my laptop, not knowing what to focus on or do to remedy anything. I imagine artists sitting back and just making stuff, while eventually it just all works out, but the way my mind works is that there a deadline and I need money now, now, now. One way doesn’t work right away, I’ll ditch it and try something else futile. I need a coach, rules, structure. I never lerned any structure growing up, so I can’t make myself now and don’t know where to start. I love how the first 16 years of my life pretty much made me and I can’t seem to be anything more.


Am I even the same person
I was 10 years ago? 

… I mean, I don’t remember what I was like so how should I know? 

All I know is that I feel different, and I’m not sure it’s a good thing. At some point between my physical pain and things from my past catching up with me, I’m not sure I came out the same person on the other side. And like Dante’s Inferno, I still have a few circles of hell to go. 

I feel like I’ve manifested my issues with family into tangible shit storms more in the last few years. And since I finally decided to go to therapy, coinciding with getting braces so I would be forced to stick with it (to an extent) for a couple years at least, things definitely got worse before they got better. 

At the beginning of therapy there was a lot of drama surrounding my mom, and I felt like she was not only ruining my life by stressing me out daily, but she was also taking up all my therapy time. Time and money she didn’t deserve spent on her really. Her decisions were mostly irrational and selfish and after deciding that all I can do is enable her by “helping”, I was able to back off a little and stop trying to take responsibility and apologize to everyone for her actions. 

This didn’t make anything go away, but the longer I go without talking to her the better I feel I think. Even though 10 years ago I may have been more outgoing, confident and fun, I wasn’t at all dealing with my shitty past. Talking about things and remembering things have periodically made things worse and I think they’ve made me a more serious person. Maybe one day I’ll learn how to have fun again.  

Is there a point in dealing with a shitty past? probably yes. 

The stresses and resentment from my childhood were being prodded and enraged by my physical proximity to my family (mother and sister). I have been traveling a very long time and it was brought up that possibly some of that has to do with my not wanting to be near them or my problems. They can’t show up at my door wanting a place to stay if I live in an RV in Louisiana in the summer. The act of traveling was my way of enabling myself to not have to say “no” to them. 

When we came back to this area, near where they are/were living, and I started to get to know some of my extended family as well (in addition to being closer to my mother and sister,) I went through a lot of awful feelings on all fronts. I constantly felt abandoned, disliked, and judged for my mother’s actions, and I felt the need to prove to my extended family that we’re clean, comfortable, happy, nothing like my mother or sister. The more I got to know them over the last 2 years, this August, I realize that although most of them seem happy and well adjusted, something I will never be, they have their faults too. And I don’t judge them for it at all, knowing they’re not perfect makes them more approachable. I spent my life before them with a dysfunctional mother and mostly homeless and/or drug addicted sister (not always at the same time) and no one else. My friends from highschool (like, 2) have always lived in different cities than me since I left town after I graduated and most friends in Portland were either shitty people or temporary. 

When I moved to Argentina it was because I had reached a breaking point with humans and wanted nothing to do with them. Talk about feeling free, 11k miles from anyone I knew was great at the time. It was only M who visited me the entire year and showed me what a real friend was like. I’d never had anyone do anything like that for me before really. Even my friend’s from highschool, I was the one who had to fly or drive to see them. The idea that I could have a good person in my life changed my perspective on people and who’s worth what to me.  

So, things have changed for the better in ways and ‘null’ in others, and I guess I just need to write them down. I still can’t picture the moment when I have to say no to my sister when she finds out we’re renting a house in town. Yep, a house! After 9 years of living in RVs and occasional vacation cabins, having a ‘home’ might be a real thing. I’m almost crying but I feel stupid for it. I moved so many times growing up I never had one true  home, and as an adult I had a couple stints in homes or apartments where I got to decorate and settle in but it didn’t last long. Then I just traveled and owned little from 2006 on. We’re renting for a year while we buy furniture, study up and save money to buy or build a house. That’s the current plan at least. The way I usually feel is after a few months in a cabin I want to tear my face off and get back on the road, so sitting in one place for a year, let alone several, is hard to picture. It’s hard to know what M wants, maybe he doesn’t care, but usually it seems like he’s not completely happy no matter what. He will say what he doesn’t like but not often what he does like. I know he wants to retire, asap. 

Generally, I think, after 2 years of therapy and being away from my mother for about a year (though chatting a little on her bday, halloween and mothers day, because she called),

  • I have stopped having as many physical world associations with childhood memories, invasive memories that are really nothing important, but oh so annoying. When I do kind of have them I don’t get the same negative feeling from it.
  • I worry less about what my extended family thinks of us. Weather because I think I’m kind of passing as not trash, or because I don’t really care, I can’t be sure. Seeing them as people with their own problems has helped a lot, dark as it is. 
  • I still think strangers hate me, but at the moment I care less.
  • Getting a house and putting myself in a situation where I have to say no to my sister when she asks to come live in our yard, hard stuff but progress I think?
  • Not feeling as guilty about not calling my mom, seeing how she is, etc. I have felt responsible for her and like “I’m the only one she has” for years, even while keeping distance in the RV, I’ve kept in close touch, paid some bills, bought cat food for her, listened to her constant “world is against me” arguments against the world.  I feel like I’m escaping from a brainwashing cult, she’s very manipulative and she knew she could always come to me and I would validate her irrational thoughts with my melancholy “that sucks, those jerks”. It took a while to notice how she used me and abused our generosity and support. 
  • Kind of cut off my sister, I won’t give her money anymore , they get 2 SSI checks a month, they’re just bad with money.  They left the area for a few months, which was a huge relief, for that situation but also because they live in a van and shouldn’t stay the winter in the NW, but they came back…idiots. 
  • I’m trying to get better about doing my own thing and eating and liking what I want. Formerly, if M thought Doritos were M, I wouldn’t buy the one vegan flavor they had because we both have to eat all the same things. But I bought some (and they were kind of gross), but I did and I ate them all myself. It wasn’t that I felt like “oh no M won’t like this” it was a little “he’ll probably judge me”, but mostly it was “why should I have anything of my own and be an individual at all really when we can just be one giant person? sounds selfish to do anything by myself”.  And I hate being selfish..or late, or messy, or fat. yes, there’s shit to work on still. I still haven’t gone on any solo photo road trips in a while, I did one big one last summer. I get enough driving getting to therapy with my 6-12hr drives, depending on where we’ve been the last 2 years. 

But, I digress, overall I think I’m doing better even though it feels weird and I’m still a little embarrassed by acting at all like a “normal” person – something I’ve considered myself incapable of being and I would only look like a bull in a tutu (and something I have no right to pretend to be). I can’t even type “I deserve” in a coherent sentence because I still feel like I don’t deserve anything, maybe that will be the next and probably the most difficult change. 

Me as a teenager. (not really me but, you know..)

Earliest Memory – That Sting You Do

So, I have a lot of bad memories and I’m working on finding the good ones. I’ve decided it was time to write some of them down. People I know will probably learn things they don’t want to and I’ll alienate them, and strangers will just learn to back away… slowly. Anyway, here it goes.

My earliest memory was when I was about 2 years old. I base this on the fact that I was fairly new to walking and my ‘dad’ was still around – we’ll say 3 at the oldest. I’ve been told that is a really young age for clear memories but I remember it well.

It was a summer day in the year 1982/83 in Northeast Washington state. We lived in a mobile home in Deer Park and had a giant beast of a car parked in the driveway – root-beer brown if I remember right. My older brother, who would have been about 10 at the time, was vaguely paying attention to me while the adults packed the car for a day at the lake. I was standing in the front yard barefoot, watching a bumble bee visiting alfalfa flowers. I don’t know what gave me the bright idea but I decided I wanted to capture/stop said bee but didn’t quite know how. I remembered my brother telling me “bumble bees, the fat furry ones, don’t sting”. I proceeded to step on the poor thing to prove his point I suppose, I don’t remember pain but I must have yelled and been crying because my mother noticed and told my ‘dad’ to take me inside and get the stinger out. I remember when he picked me up all I could do was stare at him like he’d never done so before. He took me into the bathroom and sat me on the counter and I looked at him in silence, no crying, just the awe of a 2 year old with an almost stranger, who never paid them any mind. I don’t remember why that stuck with me. I don’t remember the rest of the day or anything else for at least another 2 years. It’s not an all that interesting memory, but there it is.

The Boss Nobody Deserves

When I first moved to Portland Oregon at 18, I rented a shitty house in a shitty neighbourhood and got a job at an exotic pet store. The guy who hired me almost immediately made me the manager since I was good at taking care of the animals and managing the place alone most the time. One day, off handed, my age came up and he looked disappointed, “oh, I thought you were much younger”. I laughed it off but was a little more aware of his behaviour after that. I realized he had made me manager and even hired me based on this – but it turned out my age made me safe.

Everyone he hired after was around 15-16 (we all got paid under the table). One of the employees was his foster daughter who one day told me they were sleeping together. I freaked out and tried to talk to her about it, she insisted it was what she wanted (he was about 6’2″ beer gut, mullet and missing front teeth) but I didn’t believe her. I told his girlfriend about it, who occasionally came in to socialize the parrots, She had a kind of strange ‘slightly miffed’ reaction and said she’d deal with it – she had an 11 year old daughter so you think she would care more. After that, the foster girl stopped working there and Susanne (his gf) came in less and less, actually neglecting the parrots and making one of them go nearly insane after it had bonded with her.

After a few months I was hiring my own people, older employees naturally. Meanwhile he bought a second exotic pet store on the other side of the city. I helped him sort it out and set up. I ran the till a few days here and there as needed. In the neighboring nail salon was a woman who had a young daughter. He had told the girl she could work a few afternoons a week. I told her mother that he was weird around young girls and shouldn’t be hiring them. She should keep her away. She looked kind of mad at me,  I think she had crush on the owner and saw him as no threat. I also warned off and was rude to every single girl who came in with an application he had handed out while I was at the other store the rest of the week. Once he caught on my plan he told me he didn’t need me there anymore and to go back to the other shop full time.

I worked weeks without getting paid, paying my employees first out of the till, then rent for the space, with nothing left over for me. I stuck around so long because I didn’t want to leave the animals in the owner’s girlfriend’s or anyone else he would hire’s hands, but I had to quit to eat, and I took a couple of my good employees with me since there wasn’t much hope of getting paid in the future. We all went to work at a seasonal Halloween store. I told his girlfriend Susanne we were leaving and she came to take over the store. I didn’t hear from anyone again about the pay he owed me and a few months later he was under arrest for raping 2 (or 3) young girls in that other shop.

Years later I ran into one of the many young girl employees on a bus. I didn’t recognize here, there had been so many, but she remembered me and told me that the girlfriend Susanne, and 11 year old daughter, were on Jerry Springer because the young girl was pregnant with his kid. I always wonder if I could have done more but I didn’t know he was dangerous until he was, just thought he was a creep. I tried to keep girls away from him because it wasn’t healthy and I thought… I was trying to help him and them somehow, yes I was very naive.

Family is Hard and I Give Up

So, all this family that I’ve met in the last year has overall proven to be a bit flaky, and my cousin, who I thought I had a decent relationship with, just literally cut contact for about 4 months then messaged me the other day like nothing was weird, and this is after seeing each other pretty often all winter and going on a trip to Canada together (her family, Ross and I). After the trip to Canada. Not a peep until she had a question about the internet at the cabin that no one else could answer, then once again, crickets. I made an effort, invited her out for her b-day, on me, before we left the area for the first month, but her, everyone and their dogs know that we’re back every 4 weeks for 2 weeks and we post online all the time so, there’s not really any excuses except disinterest. She fained interest the other day “you back in the area? we should do something” and when I told her when we were available, basically after work any day, still no plans made. If I try to make specific plans they get shot down with “busy that night”. Sure it could all be for real, she’s busy, but I feel like it has more to do with me personally and I can’t stand it. I’d rather not have family than constantly be flaked on. I’ve never had family really so it was a big deal to me, but not to her or any of the rest of them really. I’m not asking for them to be available when we are, but all they have to do is at least attempt to make plans with us rather than just pretending they want to then being like “ohh, jeeze, guess we missed you”, every.damn.time.


Another family drama, much too long to explain because I just had surgery on my arm today and typing sucks, is that my mom and sister are essentially homeless. My therapist and psychiatrist, who I have because of my shit childhood – mainly my mom’s effect on me, both agree I should stop talking to her and not help her at all, either of them. Both will take help, give nothing back, and end up in the same pile of poop they started in, and they make the shitty decisions over and over expecting someone to help without even asking, just “are you going to fucking help me or not” (literally quote from my mom).
My mom’s at a hotel right now until her SSI runs out in about 10 days max, she probably won’t find a place for her situation, a nursing home type place, because of competition and I have no idea where she’ll end up. She left the last preemptively in a fit after being told she was getting evicted, because she likes to spend her money on herself instead of rent, not follow rules and makes unreasonable demands on the staff. She’s also addicted to pain medicine so… she’s pretty screwed.

Anyone who says “but she’s your mom!” (like some stranger at a bar in California did) doesn’t know the situation well enough. She’s been awful one way or another my entire life.

The Socially Inept

I am most definitely a socially inept person. I never know the right thing to say or the right way to act. What I think I want to do or say is almost certainly the wrong thing, a non funny joke, insensitive, a dark point of view.  I just think I’m extremely unsocialized due to a mostly lonely childhood and resulting lonely adult life.

A few people have just gotten to know me enough to not expect me to act normal I think, most people have just gone away, or I have, to spare them the trouble of having to deal with my awkwardness. There’s only two people I’ve ever been able to be silly, open, and strange with without worrying I will seem like an insane person, my friend of 20 years and my boyfriend. I’m pretty close to my friend’s mom and sister, but not totally relaxed. I’m sure at any moment that everyone will figure me out, roll their eyes and never talk to me again. I don’t want to dump my weirdness on them or make their already busy lives any harder by being a drama case. I desperately want to know how to act normal, just to spare people the worry and not feel judged or unrelateable. The new conclusion that I’ve come to however is that that will never happen and I should just stay away from people or only see them occasionally for a couple hours at most. The longer I’m around people, the more I start to worry and stress and get depressed, then I start to hole up and lash out. So, no more people I guess.

Does anyone else have issues interacting with other people? Does it get increasingly stressful the more you’re around them? wtf is wrong with me.. and please for the love that all that IS, don’t tell me or other people ” you just have to ____” or “try not to ____”. It IS NOT nor will it ever be that simple for anyone. Just because you don’t have to think about something doesn’t mean everyone’s brains work the same as yours. Go immerse yourself in another culture where you have no money and don’t speak the language and see how it feels before giving people advice about social anxiety .

Painted Desert, Arizona
Painted Desert, Arizona

Update – I have a guest in town

I was planning on a “WILT” every day but I have had a guest in town since the 2nd of February and for another 2 weeks yet. I still work during the day but in the evenings when I would be updating this blog, I’m hanging out with them. I think it’s probably the better choice and less rude than doing research all evening for a blog no one reads.

I’m trying to get back into writing “Sleeping with the Dead” though I still have very little idea where it will go next. My characters are developing well but where and how the zombies come into the story it another thing. I’m leaning towards “catholic church secret” ..  you know, how they believe that saint’s bodies don’t decompose and all. There will be outbreaks at every location where a saint is buried.. shit, I think I figured it out just by typing it. See.. I should be writing more, things just come to me like PREMONITIONS!!! jk. No, but really,… stay away from the Saints.

WILT #40: Race issues are for all of us

I’ve been around a little, and maybe I don’t know everything, but I strongly believe that race, gender and sexual orientation issues are all of our issues. No group should have to fight for their rights alone. This is all of our world and I want a world where everyone has equal rights.

Visiting the civil rights museum in Memphis was a big thing for me. I already believed this, but after visiting that museum I felt it in my gut, that I will not stand for a country or planet where anyone has to go through anything so awful, or go through it alone. Of course groups should lead their movements and control the movements as they see fit, but they should be willing to get and take as much support as they can from anyone and everyone because this is about US not “them, and them, and we”- it’s “US” as a whole human race.