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Language Log

Sunday, Oct. 11, 2020 - 9:24 p.m.

I was gliding along rather happily and then in late afternoon it was like I got hit with the steel chair just as it looked like the match was over. I mean really just a wave of emotional pain out of nowhere, apropos of nothing. Anxiety maybe? I had fled to the casita because I was getting overwhelmed with people asking me for things and demanding my attention. I started working out and trying to decide what fabric to use in the next patch on my hat and suddenly I was doubled over sobbing. That’s normal, right?

The back to back mental health awareness days and coming out days have me feeling sad too.

Mental health, it’s like, so many people are struggling with so much more and nothing I feel is special. I’m probably just a self-pitying person wanting attention and a way to make excuses for being lazy and selfish. And if I did have it formally acknowledged it’s not like I want to change anything. I just want others to accommodate me. I don’t want to have to do any work or take any meds. I just want people who are also struggling themselves, to be nice to me. Jerk.

And coming out day, if it weren’t for my mother I would fear nothing, I wouldn’t need to do anything but just be, as I am, but let’s remember that last year she told me with disapproval that her sister was going to her (gay) granddaughter’s wedding but if it were HER grandchild she didn’t think she would because she wouldn’t want them to think she approved. She says to me, her daughter, in the house with her grandchildren. I can’t get over the oblivious rudeness of that.

Here’s the thing, I don’t wish I could tell her. She doesn’t deserve to know. She doesn’t deserve to know me that well, because she’s never shown herself to be safe with anything she knows about me, or anyone for that matter.

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