New social media account
Hi readers, if you are interested to follow my daily musings, you can now follow me on post.news/@/midnightdemon I just opened the account as one of my other friends did as we had trouble with the chat we do on Sunday evenings. Twitter or rather Musk is being a real twit, making it difficult for people to use the site just to try and force them to pay the $8/month because he lost billions since buying it. He is such a loser. I can’t even post my blog on the site anymore. I hope I can post on Post now. Be interesting to see. The layout is similar to Twitter so I am not sure how that is going to fly in the tech world. I can see it as a copyright thing or something. I am just glad FB is still the same.
I was trying to sleep but then got really hot. My shirt was soaked with sweat. Then my damn foot cramped on me and now I am up in pain. I just took a pain med. I also drank a lot of Gatorade as I was thirsty. I had to use the bathroom anyways. Every time I drink an Ensure with my meds I am up around midnight/one to use the bathroom to pee. I hate it. Sometimes I can go back to sleep but sometimes I can’t.
I want to write about my mother. She was a very stubborn lady as she got older. Mild mannered but had a sarcastic wit that could cut you through the bone. She would often do this after she was sarcastic and you gave it back to her. She didn’t like that at all and could be really mean about it. She tried to understand that I was a man. She had accepted me as a tomboy growing up. I guess that was easier than saying I was a boy. I wish that the medical professionals had asked why I was so sad or if I liked being a girl. It would have made my life so much easier to deal with sooner and cause less suffering. I always had to put things into “woman” things to get the help that I needed. I had to stop my periods because that was a huge trigger and I knew one month I would try to end my life during one of the down days. I was getting closer and closer to actually acting on it and it scared me because I knew this wasn’t me. Once my period stopped and I don’t know when they did, I was free. I could wear boxers full time. I didn’t have to worry about bleeding anymore and all that entailed. I couldn’t tell anyone about how I felt about it because there really wasn’t anyone to talk to. I couldn’t tell my mother this. I remember the pride in her eyes the day I got my menses. She was so happy. I was so miserable. I felt a death sentence had been given to me. It so contradicted how I felt. I felt shame in a way that hurt so bad. She never for the depression side of me. She felt that I would feel better if I just talked to her about things. Trouble is the things I talked to her about was not something she knew a lot about so would just tell me to see this doctor or do this thing. My CRPS pain would be better handled if I went to a specific hospital that was hard to get to. I wouldn’t go and because I didn’t, she was mad at me. I stopped complaining about my foot. When I needed to go to the hospital I would always say my meds needed to be adjusted or the depression is just bad. I wouldn’t get more specific about what was bothering me. I knew she wouldn’t understand it. She always felt like I didn’t need a therapist. I just needed to talk to her. I had to stop telling her who I was seeing after she tried getting in touch with my therapist a few times. That was embarrassing. Here I am an adult seeing a therapist and my mother is calling the therapist to see how I am. Sometimes I let her think I wasn’t seeing a therapist.
My current therapist is a bitch. She can be tough to deal with and I am having a hard time drawing the line between it being helpful and harmful for me. She gives me the space I need to talk but when I run out of things to say, will want me to continue rather than say “I don’t know”. She often tells me that I can go to my psychiatrist and tell him that I need a new therapist because of this. I have a Taylor song for her. Blank Space. “it’s going to be forever or go down in flames.” “You look like my next mistake.” At this point, I think someone new might disrupt the little stability I have right now. I am not close to this therapist in the least. She is just there to listen to me and try to help me in an annoying way. I guess number seventeen is up and the question is who will fit it.
midnightdemons7 