Charon will be out next week. That’s okay. It gives me time to think about how to talk to her about what we talked about today.
She asked if I feel safe at home with my mum. Emotionally, she says. Obviously, the answer is no, but I’m afraid if I tell her that that she’ll get me taken away from my cat. I know she’s a mandated reporter and I’m a vulnerable adult. (Okay, yeah, let’s all just face the fact that I am a vulnerable adult. I may be better than I was even a year ago, but I’ve accepted that I’m never going to be able to 100% be safe on my own without outside help. I may not like it, but that’s how it is.) Charon seemed frustrated when I told her that wait lists for places are at least a year, most of them more. She asked if there was any more resources since I’m ‘minority’. (Please note that she didn’t say that in a derogatory way, more in a way of trying to game the system into getting me into a more healthy environment). There would be more resources if I was under 26 or if I was willing to give up my cat. I am not willing to give up my cat.
I mean, my mum is getting worse to me the longer I live here. There’s no denying that. She’s not gotten physical, she’s just getting worse emotionally and verbally and just in general. She brought up immigration stuff the other day first thing in the morning, knowing full well that I stand that everyone deserves a safe place to be, free from fear of being forced into militia or sex trafficking. My mum also goes on and on about how hard my transitioning is on her, which is fair. I get that. She also just gets dismissive whenever I try to explain that her refusal and constant complaining about my preferred pronouns is disrespectful and dehumanising to me. So there’s that, too.
We talked about my dad a bit. I had been trying to force myself to remember more of my childhood, but since I just don’t feel like I’m in a safe enough place to do that, I’ve decided to forgo that. I’ll remember when I remember. Hopefully I will remember when I am living on my own or with a trusted individual. I remember some stuff that isn’t real good. Stuff that makes my stomach sink down low and makes me feel gross and ashamed and like there is no way my dad would do that even though it fits perfectly with other memories.
Anyway. I made an appointment with my gynecologist for tomorrow since I’m still having pain and bleeding when I try to exercise and that’s really pissing me off. I want to exercise. I think part of it is that I had a cyst or something stupid. I’m not sure.
I’m supposed to be hanging out with Luffy tomorrow. I’m excited. He needs help with groceries and I told him I can help him get some stuff. It’s not that big of a deal to me. I can eat pretty cheap and I’ve been restricting pretty heavily so this is a great opportunity for me to make an excuse that I don’t have money for food. Which is terrible. I can totally help him out with buying some groceries. I’m pretty good at finding good deals on stuff.
Well, I need to do dishes and get some other stuff done. I’ll be back on tomorrow. Thank you for reading.
-The Sarcastic Autist