Whitney Was Right
Children ARE the future. Seeing my nephew start a job at Starbucks and my best friends having their first child, it's hope for me and the future. My niece is in the Philippines where I trust she is making wise decisions because she's not spending it on her phone. Since I'm making a profit now (barely, but that's how small businesses start), I'm going to do what my favorite uncle did to me and give this blank slate $20-$40 every time I visit. I intend on visiting a lot! Because I want to be there when he grows up just like how I was with my nephew. There are children dying because of genocide and that's why I can't, won't, don't not care. The literal future is on the line and politicians are doing fuck-all. Palestinian children are being slaughtered and you're still choosing to look away? What the fuck is wrong with you? There have been at least, not including the ones still missing in the rubbles of war and genocide, 4,609 child deaths in Gaza from Oct 7 to Nov 13. Your denial is killing innocent children. What if it was a child you knew who was affected? Why are children deemed less valuable once they are born than those who haven't even developed a brain yet? We should look up to these cultures with how they treat their own people.
Palestinians love their children and Americans can learn a thing or two from this beautiful culture. When an infant is born, “[the] baby is a particularly joyous occasion in Palestinians society. For several weeks after a baby is born, family, friends and neighbors will visit the new parents and grandparents to offer their love, support and best wishes. A traditional dish, mughli - a pudding made of semolina flour, sugar and cinnamon, topped with fresh nuts - is served, along with coffee or tea.” What does America have? According to 2021 statistics, the CDC shared the following as it relates to race and infant mortality rate per 1,000 live births:
Non-Hispanic Black: 10.6
Non-Hispanic Native Hawaiian or other Pacific Islander: 7.8
Non-Hispanic American Indian/Alaska Native: 7.5
Hispanic: 4.8
Non-Hispanic white: 4.4
Non-Hispanic Asian: 3.7
Racial genocide is no stranger to history, in fact, most of the world was built upon it. From the genocide from Christopher Columbus to the genocide of the black community through institutional racism, how can you still not believe in what is being shown to you? Are you really that insecure and self-centered to ignore dying children? My answer is yes, for most Americans because history keeps repeating itself. But history also wins. Yes, we are living in the dark ages, but we still need to recognize the big changes America has had. I've always raved about America's divorce rights because that's not the reality for other countries. Though divorces are expensive and still a privilege, it's still one step towards access, while most countries only allow for an annulment of marriage or, unfortunately, stay in a loveless marriage and be sad for the rest of their lives (or go off-heteronormativity and stay married while practicing [ethical] non-monogamy). But being able to hold your loved ones’ hands is not ideal when it comes to war. There are martyrs sacrificing themselves for the sake of saving as many lives as possible. As many children's lives as possible. I truly hope that those who did pass during this filth of an event have died a painless death, holding onto their favorite toy, and died in their sleep. I have seen the pictures of children suffering and it pains me inside that I cannot assist with my own body.
This weekend, there will be a conference held in San Francisco with major politicians, including the tyrant, Marcos of the Philippines, will be there. Honestly, someone better not assassinate him because the current VP of the Philippines is so much worse. If you're going to go for it, just do a 2-for-1 special. “The Standard indicate the city [San Francisco] could spend anywhere from $600,000 to $800,000 for hotel rooms, among other things, the Controller’s Office said. Mayor London Breed’s office later retracted that number, saying the city still needed to calculate the cost of paying for security.” What about the unhoused population of San Francisco or starving American children? Why are our tax dollars going to the corrupt police and not aid the people? Lastly, why are you giving them free accommodations when they can pay for it themselves? Oh right! Because they're politicians who don't care about our children and future! THEY DO NOT CARE ABOUT THE PEOPLE! HOW CAN I FORGET!?
My Belief in a Higher Power
I am no stranger to religious trauma, especially when it comes to Roman Catholicism. Organized religion has taken so much away from me, my culture, and brainwashed my beautiful country. I was forced to go to church every Sunday and even when I was a child, I questioned God. I do not believe in a God that allows suffering and pain, nor do I believe that the world is fair. If there truly was a God, why do so many good people suffer and the malignant bloodsucking billionaires get no consequences? Why are my friends dead due to HIV/AIDS and the deprivation of ample support? Why do we only care about pregnancy, but neglect the new human and recently physically taxing of childbirth on earth, specifically Amerikkka? All of these have turned me into an atheist, but I've been watching and listening to my ancestral, pre-colonized roots lately and doing a lot of "spiritual" practices that are appropriate to my culture.
“What does spirituality mean to me,” is a question I've been asking myself because of my studies. Spirit is the S part of the MEBES© model, coined by Dr. Patti Britton and emphasizes that, “[S] encompasses two aspects: the spirit of who the client is inside—their inner identity—and a path of spirituality.” I have learned to separate religion and spirituality and it has changed my life positively. Essentially, I treat myself like a God(dess) during times when I feel sad. I have practiced dialectical behavioral therapy (DBT), particularly something called opposite-action; making the conscious decision and effort in the decision to do the opposite of how you are feeling. This rewires your brain to anticipate future negative situations in order for you to make a positive decision. Yes, I said I am God and I am. Why can't I self-identify as a God; I'm helping people by holding space for others to heal and reframe their narrative. Isn't that God-like?
Yeah, I think I'm a God(dess) because I know my purpose here on Earth; to heal and teach with kindly hidden anger. Anger fuels me, but love heals me so much more effectively than anger. There are many things to be angry about, but coming from a family with a history of violence, I have to keep it under control. Which is why I know I should not own a gun! Self and mood regulation are two things that I'm so proud of and I have to thank my spirituality for that. Meditation, journaling, singing, and healing are all spiritual to the Church of Tallasianchick. A(wo)mxn!
Ending my Birthday Trauma
When I first came to America in the year 2000, my family stayed with a cruel paternal aunt. My father's eldest sister petitioned my family to become immigrants, but at a cost. Those memories, however, are unreliable, as I'm unsure of the details due to age and constant storytelling. What I do remember was being abused in that household and my family sharing stories throughout the years about my auntie's mistreatment. Like the time when it was my birthday and my newly-immigrated family wanted to celebrate with a cake. My aunt told my caretakers, "she doesn't deserve a cake, she's unlovable." Or the time when my cousins were playing a game, asked if I could play and ended up losing my two front teeth because my cousins played a trick on me; I lost my two front teeth because my cousin intentionally caused me to trip and hit my teeth on a wooden table. Additionally, my first love bought me my first legal drink and ended up having breakup sex. 21 was a wild year. I have one year left in my 20s and intend to take what I’ve learned, do better, and leave the negative memories behind and enter my 30s with better memories. Lastly, my atrocious surprise birthday party that left deep, emotional scars and solidified my birthday trauma, but I'm ready to get over this shit for my dirty 30s.
After the hype of Halloween, people are usually hungover or tired on my birthday, which is fine because I've dealt with it too. My family would always joke about how my birthday was a sad day and I'm not going to lie, reflecting on it now, that shit really affected me. I was essentially not given permission to celebrate my birthday. I don't remember when my child-like magic went away, but I had to grow up faster than most. My birthday is all soul's day in the Philippines, a very similar concept to dia de los muertos, but make it depressing. It's a very solemn holiday for us, offering food to our dead relatives and ancestors, and general reflection on life. It's a beautiful holiday, I just strongly dislike that it is also my birthday. 21 is the legal age of drinking in America, but it's also the age when my symptoms started! Imagine, you're taking your regular jog when you notice yourself tripping on your own right foot and have to be cautious about falling for 2 miles; I loved the runner's high though. When I limped back home, I examined my feet and noticed that I had a harder time moving my right toe. No matter how hard I tried to neurologically connect with my right toe, I could barely wiggle it. This is the beginning of my disability story which is a completely different blog!
My birthday year leading up to my 21st was my intentionally messy year. I had no (and still have none) desire to go to Vegas due to my gambling addiction genes. Instead, I had a babysitting gig in the city which paid $50/hour because it was the parent's night out. I remember the little infant too, only waking up once during my 4-hour shift. I had plans to meet up with my friends, but they had switched plans on me and I was rightfully pissed. This led me to go to Alameda where my first love lived and he ended up buying me my first legal drink and ended up having make-up sex. Like anything in my past, I don't regret anything because I wouldn't be the person I am today if it weren't for these events. When I became officially disabled, my family threw me a surprise birthday party. There was this cafe that I frequented in Downtown Pittsburg, CA, near the water. My brother, bless his heart because I knew he had good intentions, but I didn't want a surprise party (at least not back then. I would love a surprise party now) and invited some of my friends. I don't like to live with regrets, but my God, was it the worst experience in my life. Not only were my friends intermingling, which I was at an advantage against at the time, but they filmed me and I saw myself as a disabled person for the first time. I started sobbing, mourning the loss of control over my body. I was inconsolable and this affected my body image for the next couple of years.
Add in car accidents, family trauma, and ending friendships into the birthday cake! Each year, my caretaker/brother knows now to ask for what I want for my birthday and vise versa; we're both Scorpios. Honestly, I cannot wait to age and die happy, and hopefully, surrounded by the children I helped raise. I've gotten through so much that I should be living my life to the fullest, but also keeping in mind the purpose for living. My personal purpose in life is healing and calling people out when they are being rude as fuck. Our society is sick and riddled with malicious leaders that need to be stopped (or dare I say, assassinated). They should be held accountable for the harm they have caused others and that's why I'm still alive. I'm, as Samara Weaving's line in Scream 6, "a voice for the voiceless, you might say…" Please tell me y'all have seen Scream?
15 Amazing Things About My 45-year-old Best Friend
You all know him by now; he's my brother, my annoying housemate, and my primary caregiver. His day of birth is tomorrow and I want to make another gratitude blog. He is so annoyingly positive sometimes and he are 15 things my best friend has given me:
Unlimited care. This man was 16 when I was born and he took care of me and still continues to do so. Even when it gets annoying, for example, pointing out possible walkways even though I have been disabled for almost 7 years. He has supported me and trusts me enough to be his Grammarly before sending an moot email to his boss who also happens to be the CFO.
A house in San Francisco. I didn't know this until a couple months into living in this space; I found out through our mother. "He bought that house as insurance for you. He has a year or two left until it's fully paid off," she told me. Who buys their sibling a house!? Like seriously, that's some badass shit!
Dropping EVERYTHING if it's an emergency. I've had two 5150s and he (and my gambling addict brother) visited me for the first one before the pandemic got really bad in early 2020. They knew I was raped and were shockingly supportive. This was when I found out that I am not the first in my family to be 5150'ed; two of my brothers have been institutionalized and knowing this gave me a lot more perspective and understanding on my family members’ behaviors.
Humor. He is the only one who can make me laugh until I can't breathe. I swear, we're so funny together and we're both delulu for wondering why we aren't famous yet. We tried (and might try again) to revive our reaction channel on Youtube. He makes the worst dad jokes and I don't think he understands what a pun is, which makes it even funnier.
Grounded and self-disciplined. He has no vices and only drinks when he goes camping or doesn’t have to drive.
The hardcore traveller and backpacker. My brother has so many wild stories (now that's a pun) about getting lost, near-death experiences, yet he loves nature so much. Much. We are the only people in our 4-unit building who actually composts. He uses the water from boiling shrimp as ramen broth for future meals.
Unattainably big brain. Like our mother, he inherited her photographic memory. Our father also told me that when he would drop my brother off at elementary school, he would be sitting properly with a straight body and interlocking hands on the desk. When it was pick up time, he would be in the same pose, as if he were an AI seat warmer.
He provides free shelter for travelers through couchsurfing. We've had people from all over the world stay with us and this is his way of sharing his resources and learning about the different countries he has visited or wants to visit.
Fashionable. That's it. My brother is super fly, my gays. I borrow his clothes a lot, especially his 80s and 90s clothing.
Going off of 9, he made an effort to dress me when I was a child. Looking back at old pictures, I would always ask, where did y'all get this and they said, "your papa dressed you and bought you Oshkosh b'gosh clothing." Iykyk.
Yes, chef (no spoilers for Hulu’s “The Bear," please)! I swear, that man can make a delicious meal with only using a hotdog and cilantro. He will always find a way.
He annoyingly does things before I’m even able to do it! Clean my bathroom…? Nope, he read my mind and did it before I planned on doing it.
Passionate. One of my dislikes about him is his tone, which I've asked him to change, but I'm adapting to not take it so personally. I hear this man yelling in a meeting upstairs where the CEO is present and they all understand that he is not angry, but really passionate about his work.
He is the godfather of all godfathers; he hasn't even met a few of his godchildren! THIS IS HOW AMAZING OF A HUMAN HE IS!
I'm convinced he's a vampire that can survive the sun; he kind of sparkles because of his sweat from speed walking. Sometimes, which my brother and I don't understand, people will say I look older than him. He has taught me the power of daily facial sunscreen, even when I'm just working at home. This man gets 24 and I get 30!? Blasphemous, but aging is one of his biggest fear and I can understand that.
He really started living in his 30s and I am on that same path. He is one of the few reasons why I haven't unalived myself because I know how much he loves me and how hard that will be for him. I know because he has literally been with me all my life and I truly believe that he is one of my soulmates. We fight, but always go back to laughing at a fart. That's the true lesson: farts bring siblings together. My absolute favorite thing about him is his existence and every time I think about him dying, I start tearing up. Great, now I’m crying!
Thanks for all the lessons you’ve given me and continue to give.
Labadyu, Pa, I’ll always harmonize with you!
Focusing on the Good
Everything is on fire right now, internally and externally. But that's not what this blog is about. Today, I'm going to ignore (yes, ignoring real issues for your mental health's sake is completely valid) all the negative and focus on the positive. I've experienced a lot of joy in 2023 and I want to be reminded of that. I want to be around to see the children in my life grow and be there for them whenever I am able. I should not have to feel guilty because my body decided to go against me, which it often does. Here are some of the good things that happened in 2023:
My besties' first pregnancy and child. Maybe I’ll share their unique love story one day, with their permission, of course. These two are natural care takers and they have taken care of me at my lowest of lows. From my early, messy 20s when I would get black out drunk to the point of these 2 angels taking care of me and being there for their disabled siblings; they have experienced so much tragedy in their life, but they keep going. They give me so much love and support whenever I come over and now, there's a new factor, a child. A blank slate, if you will. "This child will not know who their blood family is because everyone will either be an auntie, uncle, caretaker, babysitter, etc.," the father of the child texted me when I asked about their chosen parenting style. Also, not to diss on newborns, but I think they’re ugly af. This newborn is so beautiful, with a fitting gender-neutral name; I was genuinely concerned that my disability would deter them from me their child, but disability can occur any moment. I am so incredibly excited to meet him(her/them). This gave me hope for the future because despite what we see in the news and media, this is the most liberating time to be alive.
I love being there for my nephew, mostly because he isn't embarrassed of me. This past month, I met the girl that he has been talking to (no, they are not BF/GF yet) and she is so sweet and isn't shy at all. When he explained my maternal relationship by explaining, "I was born when she was still a young [16] and legit took care of me when I was little. She's my favorite aunt, like legit." I sobbed in the car on the way home after I dropped them off at my favorite sushi place because I knew killing myself would destroy him. Last week, his high school band performed at the Golden Gate Park and when I found him after the performance, he was so happy to see me. "Tinang," he yelled, as he ran towards me for an immediate hug. "You're not staying," he asked and I said no because I was afraid of losing a parking spot on my street! He is my son, my child, and I even asked if I could yell, "labadyu bubog [his nickname given by my caretaker/brother and I]! That's my son, I was 16 when he was born!” He's also disabled by being born deaf in both ears; genetics on my father's side and even I'm starting to get affected. He sees me as his tinang, not just his disabled Tita. I know I’ll get to the point where my pre-disabled life will be shorter than my disabled life and that’s okay as long as I am still a caring human being and I must stay alive to watch him grow up.
My niece moved back to the Philippines where I know she's much happier even though it hurts not being able to contact her. I've noticed false stereotypes with my children; they are barely text back, really mature for their age (I blame familial and generational trauma because one of my nephews was literally shot in the face [it was a miracle that he barely has any long-term negative physical health effects]), and celibate. My mother, her grandmother, would always comment on her fashion and choice of clothing, telling her to put earrings on, and talk about her mild, charming underbite in front of my her own granddaughter. Considering I'm the "floozy" of the family, they are the ones telling her to show more skin, ask about her love life, and mocking her for not having a crush. Adversely, when Grandma found out that she was "dating" at 14, chaperoned or not, she flipped and said she would end up pregnant. This is why I'm very relieved that she is with her mother's side of the family who are pro-choice. They do tend to groom the girls on their side of the family to marry old, wealthy men; prioritizing beauty, and what’s so wrong with that?! Filipinx womxn have been sexually repressed since Catholic colonization. I trust my niece enough to remember what I taught her and she'll be one heck of an adult in the future. Funnily enough, all of my niblings are religious and I do not mind it because I know I provided important life advice to them.
I met Janelle Monae and have a signed vinyl of their amazing album, "Age of Pleasure." Living in SF is still a pain in the ass, but the opportunities here are endless. Leading me to my shift in spirituality, but not in the organized religion kind of way. I've been thinking about karma and manifestation and how they've worked for me this year. Now, living in San Francisco is definitely a huge factor, but leaning more into intuition and gut feelings rather than what I used to do which was purely analysis and linear problem solving. I've been more in tune with my emotions which is a big part of sex coaching. I sometimes feel like I'm going crazy with all of my emotions, leading me to seek help. I asked my case manager if I can sign up for talk therapy, but she decided to increase our scheduled appointments and for it to be every two weeks (instead of once a month). Accountability is sexy.
I'm not going to lie, but I live off of purpose and spite. If you hurt me or someone I care about, you're pretty much fucked. Sometimes, I feel like I am supposed to be a martyr, but that goes against my harm reduction beliefs. What if I can't help it? Last Wednesday, I saw someone hired by the city, laughably claiming as city ambassadors, literally use a leaf blower to make my unhoused neighbor leave. I yelled, "leave him alone! He doesn't even have a home," and when I stood up to this big, muscular man (who I even thanked prior to the incident because I had to move my car for street cleaning), he was shocked. The heartless city ambassador started giving excuses when I asked Oprah’s famous question about trauma response, “what happened to you to treat someone literally living without proper shelter,” and even he had the audacity to ask, "why don't you take him in then?" I was shocked and horrified at his embarrassing comeback because he knows it's not that simple. I asked the unhoused person if they were alright and he thanked me and even offered to play chess with me. "I don't know how to play chess," I said and he replied, "I can teach you! Thank you for stopping him and saving my stuff." I think I was born to be a defender or a warrior. Don't religious people say, "God gives his toughest battles to his toughest warriors," or something like that? Another reason why I don't believe in God is seeing innocent people suffer while evil prevails. If God were indeed real, then he would want everyone to be happy and healthy, right?
This is why I was put here on this Earth. I am going to be that bitch that calls out my racist mom, doxxing rapists, and help alleviate the suffering of others while finding my spirituality along the way. Just because I have broken a few eggs this year, doesn't mean I can't have my perfectly sunny-side up eggs every time for the rest of the year; of course I'll break a yolk or two along the way. Because at the end of the day, life is a silly joke and we must laugh to survive. Damn, I really wanted to end with a rhyme, but I don't have the time. Comedy.
What I ACTUALLY Did When I Was Triggered…
TW: SEXUAL ASSAULT, RAPE, DRUG USE, ALCOHOL, EATING DISORDERS
On Friday, Sept. 22, 2023, one of my good friends was doing stand up for the very first time at an open mic at the Slate bar. I was so upset that I was too stiff to attend, but then she sent me a picture of one of my rapists. If you want to know the story, everything you need to know are in these YouTube videos and Twitter threads. If you don't believe me, you can stop reading here because my own family members didn't believe my own brother could molest me, when I have told them that most survivors know their abusers and/or assaulters.
I was hit with acute PTSD the following day and literally tried to distract myself with drugs, alcohol, and horror movies. Considering I didn't have money left for food, I slept my hunger away. My friend came over with shrooms and I don't think people know that I like to take drugs in an environment I can control. Which, unfortunately, is in my own home because I know how my home works for me. I'm sure it's my internalized ableism that makes me withhold my communication with others on this subject, but I've also noticed that shrooms tend to stiffen my muscles. I've done some research and couldn't find anything relating to muscle stiffness, if not I found the opposite; shrooms are muscle relaxers. Microdosing on shrooms not only increases my productivity, but it also avoids me from taking more naps and generally gives me energy to do my everyday tasks. I acknowledge that I abuse alcohol, but only when I'm "not busy," and that in itself is a problem. But we're not here to talk about drugs! We're here to talk about my rapist ex and how surprisingly over it I am.
I'm a Scorpio who likes revenge and heavily believes in karma. Scorpios are stereotyped "evil" or most "passionate," "intensely emotional," people (my father figure/brother is also a Scorpio and he doesn't even go to therapy! He's raw-dogging life)! I will fit the stereotype if my loved ones are being threatened. But I'm also soft and mentally-ill who is a survivor of many things, but in this story, we're talking about sexual abuse (particularly) rape. This man, I refuse to say his name because he doesn't need the spotlight. In fact, he's still doing open mics and his bit was all about being broke and having to move back to Austin, TX. Barf 🤢.
I woke up yesterday, Sunday, feeling lighter and that was my indicator that he no longer has a hold on me. I am no longer triggered whenever I see apple cider vinegar because he would drink that every morning (my ex bestie also did it for the health benefits and I did too for a while). I specifically remember when I still repressed the memory of the assault and didn't know why I was frozen in a grocery aisle while looking at apple cider vinegar. It's all so clear to me now and I'm moving on. Luke Moore is no longer in my life, but I will continue to dox him because we both don't have money for a lawyer.
PLEASE, IF YOU LIVE IN THE BAY AREA, SPREAD THE WORD BECAUSE I DO NOT KNOW IF HE IS STILL A SUBSTITUTE TEACHER.
My First SAR Was Disappointing
Don't get me wrong, most of it was amazing. Unfortunately, a huge chunk of the time was allotted to conversing in the media we were exposed to. SAR stands for Sexual Attitudes Reassessment, but in my case, assessment because this is my first SAR! It's really less about the mind and more about emotions. Honestly, I am so analytical and it was a struggle. Here was my problem; we had breakout rooms (Zoom meeting format) and I was expecting a riveting discussion on the media we consumed, including 2 guest speakers per day. My biggest issue was, ok, you paid to be here (everyone has to pay for tuition and the SAR is already included), why aren't you as excited to be here as I am? I understand that this is a requirement, but your excuse cannot be, "I'm still trying to absorb the material and get to know the agenda."
First of all, you must be in module 3 to participate in SAR. I'm currently in module 3 because I already know a lot of the variety of human sexuality models and studies. Additionally, I've tried a lot of things, I watched and was not phased by any of the imagery that I was exposed to during the conference. In fact, my biggest takeaway was exploring more of my kinky side. Yet, I am here to learn about the business aspect of sex coaching.
Secondly, the name says it all. Sexual Attitudes Reassessment; we are assessing our sexual attitudes and question why we like what we like and don't like what we don't like. I understand that some people may have been nervous about hurting someone's feelings or attacking someone's beliefs, but the whole point of this conference is to respect judgements and boundaries. In my small group, someone didn't understand why another person would want to be slapped in the face. I love a good slap to the face, but that's me! I respect them, they respect me, and if they don't do well that's their own problem.
Lastly, I'm upset that I didn't get to connect with everyone because I was with the same people for all 2 days. I would have loved to have mixed up the group and, even better, have an isolated retreat. A lot of the SAR conferences became virtual due to the pandemic which, personally, I benefited from because I have limited access to money. That's why I am doing all of these programs because I accidentally became a co-facilitator during the small groups. I even asked them if SARs are usually like this and they replied with a, "no, not usually." At the end, they privately messaged me a thank you for co-facilitating and I feel so much more confidence because of this experience. Hopefully, my next SAR will be more engaging in a decade from now.
This Is My Body On Stress…
Ever since I learned that it may have been my extreme heartache and stress that could have caused my disability, I have chilled out for the past few years. Yes, that is a theory my beloved, second therapist told me. Her theory was that my body was essentially in "shock" after my first love ended things. I became severely depressed after the break up and specifically taking a Portland trip with my family and they were wondering why I was so floaty (which now I know is called dissociation)! She's also the same therapist who encouraged me to research about marijuana and its antiinflammatory benefits. My fact-based, nerd brain went into research mode and found a plethora of scientific papers to back up her claims. I've also learned that stress can literally alter your genetics. IT'S TRUE! OUR GENES CAN MUTATE! Unfortunately, it's also how we get cancer annd other unwanted mutations. I know when I'm stressed; increase in acne, moodiness, anxiety, and generally all over the place. I cannot focus on one major thing when I'm stressed. Some take cigarette breaks, others distract themselves with chores, but I tend to my plants. I've been hyper-focused and distracted that my plants are literally dying because of root rot, due to overwatering (RIP in peace Albus, my monstera albo). I post these on Mondays to keep me accountable and I had no idea what I was going to write. Here I am, talking about how stressed I am and how it's manifesting in my usually-timely body. I have an upcoming MRI next Friday and I heard Mercury is in Retrograde again and I'm feeling burnt out.
My periods have been late or I have to induce it somehow to stay regulated. I usually just take glass or surgery-grade metal dildos or use my Clutch, masturbate while focusing on cervical stimulation and orgasms. See, I know my body so well, that I know exactly how to induce my period. My nipples become extra sensitive a week or two prior to the onset of my menses. I have adult acne now which is just an annoyance more than anything. Having to buy more products isn't really ideal for me so, unfortunately, the acne is going to stay because I do not have the resources to update or upgrade my skin routine. Stress really did me dirty with the timing on this one. At least I hit puberty at 28, but that’s for another post!
Bringing me to my next point, I have so many things to do before the end of the year, all before I go to the Philippines on November 28. I have to renew my SSI or disability benefits (because permanent brain damage isn't proof enough) or I will lose them, call every flight/airport/etc. for boarding accommodations, find a person to water my plants, my Halloween sexual professions party and updates, get the right amount of medication for my trip, my besties' baby shower, and my SAR (Sexual Attitudes Reassessment) in September. Amongst other things, I'm living alone for a month due to my brother's European adventure (I think I have another escape room in November).
Compared to my other family members though, I have to say I'm one of the best at stress management. I don't jump to negative conclusions, unlike my mother who is already worried when she hears the phone ring (already expecting something bad to happen); my mother needs Ativan in drip IV form. Even though he denies it, my brother is just as anxious as our mother, he's just better at hiding it. Side note: only 2 family members, both accountant brothers, have visited me in a mental health facility or at least in a 5150 hospital hold. I'm very open about my mental health and needs with my family and I do not care if they're feelings get hurt because I will always choose my mental health first before appeasing anyone. My family admits they're mentally not well, but have never seeked treatment. My gambling addict brother was held in a hospital, got treatment, and relapsed. But that's the thing about addiction, when you're down in the dumps, feeling like shit, and stressed out of your mind, the peace that death offers sometimes entices me. This is how powerfully destructive stress can be.
Becoming a Mother in 6th Grade
TW: CHILD SEXUAL ASSAULT/ABORTIONS & UNWANTED PREGNANCIES
I simply cannot wait another year to talk about my nephew because he turned 17 yesterday. I promised myself I wouldn't display him on my Instagram until he was 18, but he's so mature and I was so worried we had drifted apart. He is my child because I raised this beautiful boy and I'm so happy he's nothing like his father. My first memory was of my nephew's father, first sexual assaulter, and also happens to be my blood brother closest which is 10 years my senior. I'm not going to rip open healed wounds, but instead give you insight on ending generational trauma and the people I had to remove from my life in order to end toxic cycles… and I'm fucking proud of myself.
I was present when my nephew was born, let's call him Sammy for anonymity and ease. Sammy was born in 2006, a Leo, and my newest best friend. Him and his mother, let's call her Pia, moved in with us (at the time, there was mommy, daddy, my molester [let's call him Luke, named after a SF comedian who raped me]) in 2006 and we all became super close. I even learned how to use a breast pump! Yeah, my shitty molester made me do it to embarrass both me and the mother of his child, but it is what it is, right mother? Side note, if you’re not familiar with tallasianchick lore, my mother is a sly misogynist and chismosa [gossip]; she often critiques the women in my family and defends her shitty sons. Therefore, I was taught to close my legs while my brothers were forgiven for impregnating so many women; there are two abortions that I know about and she seemed to have forgotten about those two too. Did I mention my second oldest brother's gambling addiction too? FOCUS, ILAH, FOCUS!
Where were my parents? The grandparents were busy working too. My dynamic with my Sammy has always been aunt and godmother; nicknamed "tinang," a mashup of "tita," meaning aunt, and "ninang," the Tagalog word for godmother. This is Filipino culture due to Spanish influence and colonization, slowly erasing indigenous groups and the beautiful, genuine human diversity. So what do you get when you combine your stubborn, misguided elders with lack of accessibility to the Internet and refusal to learn (or unlearn)? You get my parents who are very similar to the Filipino immigrant experience that almost every Filipino child in America experiences. The Filipino-American experience of prioritizing school over mental health, unknown belongingness, and never being good enough, or adversely, being "too much." I fall under the last category, someone willing to sacrifice my place within the family, which is filled with abuse and unhealthy patterns of behaviors, and ending these family-breaking mentality. I'm here to end the cycle.
When I finally received my license at 18, my retired father became the primary caregiver to his grandchildren. I was also beginning college and I wanted to be a working student like my mother! I wanted to understand her struggle, minus the children; I'm the second sibling who is pursuing a Master's. I have always been a caretaker (before becoming disabled) so I figured I could be a babysitter. It paid well, kids love me, and I could make my own schedule. I genuinely love being around children because they are the funniest humans due to having zero filters. The parents also loved me and when I'm feeling down, I sometimes read my old reviews on the original babysitting website. I wonder where some of them are now and whom I left an impact on. Kids also give me hope. My niece from another brother is 14 years old and is so mature for her age; and I like to take credit for that. Same with Sammy whom I learned is saving his sexual debut at college because he wants to focus on his studies. Prior to yesterday, the 20th, I hadn't seen Sammy in a year. I was so shocked to hear how deep his voice has gotten and how time didn't change our dynamic. It was like picking up where we left off and I loved the energy.
I remember my last child that I babysat and I was already disabled (I could still walk without a brace so this was really early in my disability process). Located in Oakland, the job was a total of no more than 3 consecutive days. I would walk with her stroller to Lake Merritt to go to the playground in the summertime. This child was also a struggle and curveball for me. For some reason, she didn't like me until the last day where the child had a tantrum when I left. It was also the part of Oakland that had steady and progressively challenging hills. It was a hot day, I had a stubborn child to keep safe, and I could feel my body trying to keep itself together. That's when I knew I couldn't babysit anymore. I cried on my ride home.
I'm child-free, not because I'm disabled, but because I have already experienced raising a child. Additionally, the people in my life are already popping out babies and I truly believe in the saying, “it takes a village.” Similarly to my brother/father figure with his experience with me being born when he was 16. I am his child; I actually asked him recently if he loved me more or his best friend (who is an Italian living in Ireland) and without hesitation or doubt on his face, he said me. I was so relieved, but not shocked when I heard those validating words. He and I actually started a lot of the nicknames for our niblings and I'm so happy that my brother/father figure and I were successful in helping the world have a better future.
I went back to my old account and screenshotted some of my favorite families and kiddos!
Television, My 1st Love…
Almost every 90s kid will tell you their favorite 90s cartoon or character. Whether it's the live action Scooby-Doo (YES, THE LIVE ACTION FILM STARRING HORROR KINGS AND QUEEN, SARAH MICHELLE GELLAR, FREDDIE PRINZE JR, AND MATTHEW LILLARD) or my father and I's bond for The Looney Toons, I loved my television. Every morning during elementary school, there would be background noise of something from either Cartoon Network or Nickelodeon while getting prepped for school. It was also my father who drove me every single school day because he was a stay-at-home dad who worked nights at the Hilton; we would be so happy when he brought home leftover steak from an event.
In my fandom teenage years, it was Skins UK, Misfits, The Walking Dead, (unapologetically) Glee, and many many more. Before that, I remember watching shows with my brother such as The OC, Jack & Bobby, and Heroes. Now that my palate has matured and has stayed the same, but now have moved to The Last of Us, Breaking Bad, Broad City, and Midnight Mass. This made me stumble upon horror television. Zombies are not scary to me, but real life religion does. Television has been a form of escapism for me and it has never resonated harder as I get older.
It was either a series, movies, music, or drugs for me. As a disabled person with limited money, I cannot do much at this point in my life. My business is still growing and I'm very thankful for the opportunities that lie ahead, but it's the inactivity that activates my cravings. Boredom often follows drug use for me. The escapism of illicit drugs numbs both my emotional and physical pain. I'm terrified of my brother/father figure finding my cold body due to an overdose or alcohol poisoning. If I'm going to be addicted to something, it has to be through a creative medium.
I don't do illicit drugs because I want to, but they are ingrained in my epigenetics. My father was a smoker and only stopped smoking when he found out he was having a girl. Not to mention all the addicts in my family on both sides; drug abuse, alcohol, gambling, and hard drugs (mostly the rural side of my family). I also take legal drugs which are also addictive such as Valium (for anti-spasticity) and marijuana (for sleeping aid and pain relief). As many of you know that I am a big proponent of harm reduction and I truly believe that I am failing to reduce harm towards myself. I'm not an addict, I am prone to becoming an addict, and I'm trying my hardest not to slip. Thanks for reading. 💖