Birthday Blues

When I was 17, my friend’s ex-boyfriend sat in my room for an afternoon, held something sharp to his wrists (I think it was scissors), and threatened to kill himself if I didn’t tell my friend to get back together with him.

And all I could think was, “You’re threatening to cut but you want to cut in the wrong direction, that ain’t gonna work, dude.”

That’s how jaded I was.

By the way, my Mom was home when this happened. She didn’t interfere (with which I mean: she didn’t come to help). When I asked her afterwards not to tell anyone, she used it as gossip material anyway.

I don’t know why I’m thinking of this today. Maybe because it’s my birthday in a few days and this is now half a life-time ago. Maybe because I still know how much yew needles you need for a deadly dose. Or that aspirin will give you a nasty, painful, drawn out death if you OD on it. It’s the kind of stuff that my brain keeps around apparently, while it is intent on making me forget my friends’ birthdays.

Your priorities are screwed, brain.


A whiny post

I miss having a friend at work. I like my coworkers as well as the next person. They are smart, they do their work well, they respect me and I respect them. We have nothing much in common apart from work, but that’s okay. Has always had to be okay.

But when I started here, a decade ago now, I made a friend. We became good friends. The kind of friend that you trust with your personal life. The kind of friend who listens to your stories even if they aren’t interested in the same shit you’re interested in. The kind of friend you tell about having been abused. The kind of friend who notices the days when you’re feeling off. The kind of friend that you can tell about your PTSD and anxiety and depression.

Since she left, I don’t have that anymore. My coworkers are friends with each other. They have the same hobbies. They have the same status. I lead the department and I’m doing a good job at it. But I’d love to have one friend. Someone to confide in on the bad days. Someone to share the good days with. Just one person I trust. That would make daily life so much better.

I’m proud of you

I’m proud of you.

Sometimes, you’re not someone’s first choice to say these words.

You’re not the person they really want to hear it from.

It doesn’t matter.

Tell them anyway.

Especially now, at Christmas, which for so many of us is the annual festival of hiding ourselves.

Of smiling for family who don’t even want to know who we truly are.

Who’d rather live with a lie than see us happy.


So I might not be the person you want to hear this from but I’m telling you:

I’m proud of you.

For everything you achieved this year.

For the fact that you’re still around.

For every minute that you were able to be yourself.

I’m proud of you, my friend.

Random Top 5 lists

I think it’s time for another round of Top 5 lists because it’s been awfully long since I last did that. As usual, it will be very random.

Top 5 TV Shows, still running, currently watching

  1. How to Get Away With Murder
  2. Miss Fisher’s Murder Mysteries
  3. Supernatural
  4. Grey’s Anatomy
  5. Marvel’s Agents of Shield

So even though Dr. Who got that much better in its current season, it still didn’t make the cut. Sorry about that. But yay for Supernatural recovering!

Top 5 male slash couples

  1. Destiel/DeanCas: Dean Winchester / Castiel (Supernatural)
  2. Captain Jack Harkness / Ianto Jones (Torchwood)
  3. Stucky: Steve Rogers / Bucky Barnes (Avengers / Captain America)
  4. Coliver: Connor Walsh / Oliver Hampton (How to Get Away With Murder)
  5. Lito Rodriguez / Hernando (Sense 8)

OMG, 3 out of 5 are canon! The world is changing!

Top 5 internet based series

  1. Dr Horrible’s Sing-Along Blog (a modern classic)
  2. The Guild (Felicia Day)
  3. Lonelygirl15 (reasons)
  4. ConMan (proud crowd funder)
  5. Caper (Geek & Sundry!)

Also, Wil Wheaton’s TableTop. It just didn’t fit into the top 5 because it’s not fiction.

Top 5 anything with David Tennant in it

  1. Dr. Who (Ten!)
  2. Much Ado About Nothing (Digital Theatre)
  3. Broadchurch (dark)
  4. Single Father (heart-breaking)
  5. Casanova (sweet)

Top 5 English songs on my DeanCas playlist

  1. Carry on, Kansas (duh)
  2. Angeles, Jensen Ackles (reasons)
  3. Seasons of Love, Rent (starts crying)
  4. Like real People Do, Hozier (do it, kiss like real people do!)
  5. Es könnt ein Anfang sein, Rosenstolz (it could be a beginning)

Top 5 songs on my Geek Playlist

  1. Cats and Netflix, The Doubleclicks
  2. G33K & G4M3R Girls, Team Unicorn
  3. I’m the One Who’s Cool, The Guild
  4. Vanilla (I’m not Sexy), Marian Call
  5. Gamer Girl, Country Boy, Felicia Day

And that’s it for now! If there’s any Top 5 Lists you’re interested in, let me know (not that I think anyone is actually interested in my Top 5 Lists, lol).

Life’s Little Stories – Public Reading

I took part in a literary reading last week. I read one of my older stories. The narrator is a girl in a psychiatric clinic. We don’t figure out why she’s there. Not in the part that I read, anyway. We only follow her through her day and through her thoughts. There’s this other girl. She calls her “my girl” even though she never sees her from the front, just from the back. The other girl never talks. Nature folds itself around her because she is so quiet and still. So the narrator tells her everything she feels in her thoughts. Hopes so hard for the other girl to get better and be happy. There is even a little story about a dream in there, a dream in which the narrator fled with her female lover in a land where it is forbidden to be as they are.

And yet.

Yet when people talk to me after a reading of this story, and again last week, they ask me “are you better now?” and assume that I’m the narrator and have been in a psychiatric clinic. They tell me “it is a great way to tell the story with the outside representation of yourself in the other girl” and assume that I’m the narrator but that the other girl isn’t real.

Now I tell them, it is a fictional story and its interpretation is their own. But it is funny.

I’ve never been in a psychiatric clinic. But that other girl sure as hell is real.

Love Knows No Gender
Being married doesn’t make you straight.


I’ve had a conversation on twitter today that left me raw. We were talking about fanfiction and about dub-con/non-con elements in stories and that there are people who enjoy reading those.

Now before I start, let me say this:

Dub-con/non-con is not okay.

Dub-con/non-con is not romantic.

Dub-con/non-con is not love.

Yet I still read those stories every so often.

I read stories where the lovers destroy each other piece by piece. I read stories where one lover destroys the other, slowly but steadily. I read stories that end in suicide and murder.

I also read stories that start out with coercion. That start out with one person selling their body. That have the threat of death over one of the lovers. And that still somehow develop into stories about love, where two people make each other better.

Now you can tell me I’m damaged and I will agree. I do not enjoy seeing these characters that I care so deeply for hurt. I do not get off on it. I still read it.

‘Why?’ do you ask.

Because I want to understand.

Because I want to understand.

I want to understand where dominance turns into abuse. I want to understand where trust turns into being doormat. I want to understand why people hurt each other, be they strangers or lovers.

Call it morbid if you want.

I call it trying to make sense of my own life.

Of my own reactions when I was being abused more than anything else.

I read these stories and I read about myself. I read about why I suffered quietly. About why I never fought back. About why for years I went back to that place where I knew I would be abused almost every day just because it was expected of me.

I read about the helplessness of not being able to make my little sister’s (sister in spirit, not in blood) abuse stop, at an age when I had barely turned into a teenager and she was still a child. I read about her pain and my guilt and the fact that there is no way to be good enough. Not when you’re a child. Sometimes not even when you’re adult.

I read about all of this and I try to make sense of it. I use fictional people’s lives and fates to cope with my own. It’s the poor man’s attempt at therapy, I guess.

I am damaged. I admit that readily. I read things that I know will trigger me. I go back to them like I went back to that place every day. At the same time, I’m not as helpless anymore as I was back then. I have tools. I analyze. I understand what is healthy and what isn’t. I do not crave cruelty.

But I will always have a fascination with power and power exchanges. That is a part of me. But what I want and enjoy is based on trust and on love and to say it in the scene’s terms, it is safe sane and consensual. It builds the other person up and does not tear them down.

I am sorry that I hurt someone’s feelings today by trying to convey this in 140 characters. It is not possible.

Pride (and Prejudice – or rather: and Anxiety)

I’m scared today. Part of it is that I got triggered yesterday (by rattling pipes, it’s embarrassingly easy to trigger me with heating systems), so my anxiety level is up an extra 10 notches today and I have no idea how to bring it back down.

The other part is more based in reality and less in decades-old trauma so that’s what I actually want to talk about.

I’m going to the pride parade in my town this weekend. It’s not the first time I’ve gone and usually it’s fun and everyone is nice. But so far, I’ve always either gone with lesbian friends (passing as lesbian) or with my husband (passing as straight ally). And frankly, I don’t want to do either anymore. Because I’m not lesbian and I’m not straight. I’m bisexual. So I’m planning to wear bisexual pride colors this year and have my bi!pride flag with me.

I didn’t think much of it before the worry started creeping in a few days ago. I have such an amazing bunch of online friends who completely accept me for who I am, and many of whom are also mythological creatures (bi, ace, aro, genderfluid, pick and choose your fav), that I kind of forgot that the unicorn status is frowned upon or declared invalid in the ‘real world’ queer community quite often. And I’m even ‘worse’ than your average nymphomaniac bisexual because I’m a girl married to a dude, so according to lesbian logic* I’m now straight and am just using the bi label to garner attention.                         *No, it’s not ‘all lesbians’. Just like it’s not ‘all men’.

Sorry if the sarcasm is dripping off the screen and into your keyboard. But in the wake of #LoveWins and the tears of joy over that, I was all love and happiness and rainbows and I hate how outside perceptions make me feel like I have no right to be a part of that. How I’m considering leaving the bi!pride flag at home. How I already want to mold myself to the majority because it has less risk of being shunned.

I want to find something positive to end this post with because I feel there should be a conclusion or a positive moral tale or whatever, but there really isn’t one. All there is is this gnawing anxiety and the feeling like the world is not a safe place for me.

Frankly, it sucks.

And that’s all I have to say to it.