furry1337otaku

One of the first things that came out of the divorce was learning to define my own identity and learning to express it. It was liberating at the time and quite joyously wonderful.

But I've started learning things that aren't as fun and quirky, and more depressing, fearful, disempowering...

I'm going to start going to PAAR on the suggestion of my therapist, because I don't feel like it is safe for me to be a woman anymore. Not in the world I am discovering myself living in. I don't feel safe. I am unequal to the tasks presented to me. I cannot survive anymore.

I shrugged it off when my therapist asked me if she needed to worry about me, after I confided having had a lot of suicidal thoughts lately. I didn't realize that I'm at risk.

Not until I was heading 'home' to where my stuff is, inside my thoughts I can't voice, hearing the demons teasing. If I cut myself for attention, I would probably fuck it up and actually kill myself, if I actually tried to kill myself, I'd probably fuck it up and make it look like a cry for attention.

I want to just lie down and die and have it be over with.

I don't want to do that.

I don't know how to do what people want from me.

I don't know how to have the conversation that I don't have money to give for my housing and feeding, that I can't earn anything. I'm paid out on projects that are months behind schedule, and while I think I can finish them, not like I am.

I've had a few peaks, where I almost feel like I have drive and momentum.

But then it comes crashing down and I don't know why I should even bother to try.

I'm afraid of moving.

I'm afraid of losing my support networks.

I'm afraid the desert might conquer me after all.

I'm afraid because I'm actually worried about myself, because I can't overcome my illness anymore. It's not just a part of my mind I keep on a leash, it's no longer just in my mind.

I'm sick.

I'd see a doctor if I had the money to spare, but I'm afraid they won't find anything wrong with me anyway.

Something is very very wrong with me, and I don't know how to fix it.

I don't know if it can be fixed.

I'm scared.

Because I feel like it's a waiting game, like I'm in a horror movie, full of suspense, the world not quite what it appears, moments of brightness to contrast what lurks in the dark, just out of the periphery of my vision, waiting to strike in the darkness.

I don't know myself anymore.

It's not enough to strive just to be better, I have to confront what I am, and I have to delve into the darkest scariest parts of my mind that I had always previously assumed were dealt with, or at least secure.

Maybe it's a good thing that we finally found my trauma.

And maybe it will kill me.

Not that I have ever truly wanted to be 'normal' but I'd like to be stable, I'd like to be healthy and sane and feel equal to the tasks life's thrown at me. I still hope that one day I might become stable.

So apparently I am a raging aspie kid. I thought maybe it was a fluke/that I was just tired/depressed when I took this quiz last night with 155/200 towards aspie, and so I took it again now figuring I'd answer more properly being awake, and now it's 178/200, and I just can't figure out if this changes anything for me.

And also, the fact my boyfriend who has actually been diagnoses with Asperger's didn't score as I high as I did for it. I've taken similar quizzes in the past, but generally scored in the
"normal range" with just a few aspie traits. I've had it commented on by other friends experienced with it that I read a bit Aspie. This is the first time I've been faced with the realization that maybe, I'm not just a little bit of an aspie kid.

I've been struggling with the fact of my financial lack, especially accepting that I really just don't have it in me to go chase down a job I won't want and won't actually want me. My friend who has graciously lent me the use of his computer for the past year wants it back before I leave, so I need a new one. If I had any kind of regular income it would be a possibility, there's even a purple netbook that is within the realm of affordability. But I have nothing.

I'm eligible for food stamps and getting my SNAP card in the mail any day. That will help some as I get onto a regular diet rather than depending on the leftovers of others. But it won't buy me things like art supplies and feminine products.

I don't know why I didn't apply for cash assistance this time. I know I'm strongly considering applying for disability, but I want to talk to my therapist to see if I will pass as eligible. She's expressed hesitation in the past when I've considered just giving into the madness and focusing on living as a mentally ill sort rather than trying to force myself to keep passing as a normal person. I just don't have it left in me to pass anymore.

I also need to discuss my gender identity issues, because although I'm comfortable being a cisgendered female sexually, I'm afraid of embracing my femininity because I feel like I would lose the respect I earned by being 'one of the guys'. At the same time, I wonder how much respect I ever did have for that as almost all of those guys at some point made the situation sexually charged. I feel like it was easier for me to deflect then, but maybe that was just the fact I was too drunk and too distracted to realize the systematic sexual harassment. But at the same time, in becoming aware of my own femininity and need to express myself and especially because I've become actively aware of a need for Feminism, I feel constantly targeted because I am a woman. And especially galling I know it is because I am a 'single' woman and my long distance internet boyfriend doesn't count to all the men who are fine predating me. As much as I had issues with my marriage, the security of a relationship has more perks and benefits than sex and cuddles. I realized the other day when expressing eagerness to stylize with my boyfriend, that the reason I would feel safe expressing myself as a female was because I know that men will keep their distance and show at least some cursory respect if a woman is attended by a man.

While becoming aware of the intricacies of social politics has definitely led to some detriment of my outlook, I feel like it is more beneficial than detrimental, because in addition to the liberation of knowing and throwing off ignorance, it has shown me that support does exist, however patchy and faulty, and more important, it has begun to give me language to vocalize my feelings, and my identity more clearly. Although I'm all the more terrified by seeing the face of the society I live in, I'm learning to adopt a clearer idea of the kind of Society I want to live in and build a foundation with other people who want the same kind of future. Yes, the monster I'm facing is larger, more powerful and more terrifying than I thought, but also, I know that other people have my back.

I've been trying very hard to focus on the positives, and keep up a forward momentum. Every word of support and validation that I exist has helped pull my head back around and keep moving. I'm trying to keep the blinders on to stay focused on what I want to acheive, but I still catch the glimpses of all the same things that make me spook. I know that there's never enough time, money or energy to do everything. I'm still breaking things down into smaller pieces to take on. I'm still making progress. But I'm going to have to take the blinders off, step away and look at the big picture one of these days, and I need to know how to tackle it. Because in the long run, I think the spooks repeatedly creeping in at the edges of my awareness over time are more troublesome than if I faced them head on.

And even though I've been staying positive, I've still been depressed, I've still stayed up too late, clinging to mental sedatives to keep my anxiety from getting to me, I've still stayed in bed too long, dreading facing reality and leaving the warm embrace of unconsciousness. The passive suicidal thoughts have resurfaced, nothing active yet, mostly just the matter of "Please, can't I just lay down here and die? Can't I be done now? Can it be over yet? I don't want to go on." And the most shocking one is the realization that all it would take is for one person I care about to tell me that it is okay for me to kill myself.

The only thing that keeps me alive is the desire to not let everyone down again, to not hurt them that way, I don't want to inflict the pain of my death on the people I care about.

But I can't keep going on the way I have, and I don't know what I'm supposed to do to snap out of it.

(cross posted from my other blog)

For awhile now I've been coming to grips with the fact that the lessons I learned as a child about how honesty, integrity, equality and tolerance were the most important things in life aren't valid in the real world.

I was excited when I first started to tread into Social Justice territory, I felt empowered that people were actively working to improve the lives of others and wanted to do anything I could to help, although I accept that I am relegated to the lowly level of the armchair activist. I do my best just to try and spread the word and sign petitions.

I hope I can at least get the word out to people who can afford to support causes financially, or even have the time to invest that I don't.

I see some of my friends making great changes and causes. I don't resent that I'm not one of them, I know that's just the way it is, and maybe one day I'll be able to be one of them.

It is discouraging that this was the last post I put on my 'serious' blog and how my personal status has changed little and quite possibly degraded since. http://kiyarasabel.wordpress.com/2011/11/08/the-only-power-is-purchasing-power/

I didn't believe in racism. Oh sure, there were a few hillbilly rednecks out there but they didn't really count.

That's what I thought, my whole life. And then one day I realized that people are still backwards and set in their ways, that the little jokes about stereotypes weren't actually jokes.

I still have trouble processing it, trying to understand how the society I thought I had grown up in didn't exist. I can't process that people judge human beings as anything else.

I have trouble believing that these words by which I have always striven to live my life aren't true.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=vd1c7sRaw_k
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=WibmcsEGLKo

I can't handle the fact that the words of this child, so strongly matching how I felt growing up, have gone on all but completely ignored for 20 years.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=TQmz6Rbpnu0

I can't handle that I knew as a child just how dire our condition is, and that I still don't see a strong attempt to restore our home.



And then, when I tried to help, I've been given the very clear answer that because I'm an ever so fortunate recipient of white privilege, I'm not allowed to speak on the issues of Social Justice.

The only thing white people are allowed to do in regards to Social Justice is to shut up and listen.

"Nobody wants to be left out of shit, but the fact that Whites literally cannot handle it (while other races put up with it day-in/day-out) and feel personally attacked when excluded from Non-White safe-spots tells you 1. how rarely White people experience someone excluding them based on skin color and 2. how completely White culture has failed to provide tools for sharing space, instead teaching Whites that all space is White space (“because all space is space for everyone”, a perception Whites share with no one)."

So how the hell do we start sharing space?

Or are we just not allowed to help?

We are the problem and we are not allowed to be part of the solution.


In the meantime, I'm going to try to stick to the issues I do know something about and stick around people who share my values. I'll keep lurking, keep my head down, keep listening, and keep reading about Social Justice, especially in regards to racial inequalities, but I don't feel like I'm able to participate.

In addition to the items offered here I am opening for the following sorts of projects as well.

Custom OC Ponies Sample Sample Sample OCs only, no background or canon/mane cast ponies (simply because I don't want to make the same pony over and over again)

Blind Bag $5-$20

Brushables $30-$90 (Fashion ponies would be included but priced accordingly)



Badges (yes this will include my famous meme badges, and pony characters)

3X4" $5-10 (headshot and text only, no background single character) Sample Sample Sample Sample Sample

4X6" $15-20 (full body, multiple characters, backgrounds) Sample Sample Sample Sample

Shipping will vary from $3-$10

I've been doing significantly better. This is best evidenced for me by the fact I'm working on my art, and even some I'm going to get paid for. However, I've accepted, realized, and in fact embraced the fact that I'm not going to make 'real' money from my art. At least not for another year or so honing my skills, building my networking and solidifying my portfolio. I'm at peace with that and actually quite happy to be downgrading my commission status to "whatever I can do in one sitting". I'm no longer discouraged that no one is hitting me up and banging down the door to overload myself with more projects to owe. It's better for me and it's better for my customers that I devote more time to doing the projects I want to complete, and those that matter will appreciate them all the same. My work will hopefully be to a higher standard and we can all be happy with that.

Unfortunately, this does mean that I'm lacking an income. Oh, I might get a few bucks here or there doing small odd jobs and favors for friends, but it's not enough to live on. It's not even enough to buy the couple of things I've been trying to save for or supplement my diet as I need.

Today was the first time that I really, really started to look at the fact that I:
A.) might be incapable of getting a job on such short notice as is available to me
B.) Might be incapable of securing and holding down a job

Getting a job appears to not even be registering as a serious priority on the lists of tasks that satisfy me to complete.

This obviously bothers me on several fronts. The biggest is my perceived strain on others, regardless of whether it even exists, I don't feel like I'm going to make even an acceptable pittance of the $250 my landlady would like from me (as evidenced by the fact I don't even feel I have enough to spend on the bare necessities).

Which leaves me with a couple of options. I can probably get away with staying these next two-three months and not paying off my landlady, go to Anthrocon with my mom and drive home after, hopefully selling some items in the art show and getting a few easy commissions out of the way in the meantime while also completing my larger projects and getting the satisfaction of delivering them in person.

On the other hand, I can just call it quits and have my mom send me the money for me to get a U-Haul ASAP and be out of here in time to treat my boyfriend to my wonderful presence for his birthday(also, if I suddenly pull superpowers from my ass, maybe my mom's too). This would of course require me to double time on all the things I need to do for the move like repacking all of my stuff and selling off everything I'm not taking with me.

I might settle for something in between, and in theory I could move back and still come visit for Anthrocon (not happening, I don't have the energy for that, and if all went well I could do Califur instead, although that would be without the masses of all my old friends getting to say their goodbyes).

I really don't know which is the logical or 'right' decision.

I'm still pretty raw over the fact that this is a decision I have to make.

Maybe, just maybe I'll pull my shit together and get a nearby not too demanding part time job, or end up kicking over a few commissions enough to squeak by. Maybe. I'm not holding my breath.

Of course, the mere logistics of moving are a nightmare, even without the strain of having done so as many times and as quickly as I have already. Tomorrow, when I am feeling more together and have had more time to mull it over and after I have finished business tasks, I will work on calculating the logistics, and I need to call my mom to ask for her advice and input as well. This is me asking for the advice of my friends, and I know many of them will be disappointed at the thought of me leaving so soon, not the least of which will be Jitters who really desperately hopes he'll convince me to stay permanently.

They say the only way to compromise a truly loyal person is to force them to choose between their loyalties. I have to say, it isn't a pleasant situation to be in.

Came across a picture of a millipede and figured I should make my quick list of what live animals I want to collect. I'll update this later with what the requirements for me getting them will be(housing, supplies, licenses and permits).

Red/white Corn Snake

Giant African Millipede

Little Brightly colored fish

A pair of Finches (I will make them a nest box from an ostrich egg!)

A pair of lovebirds

Chambered Nautilus

Dog

Secretary Bird

Striped Hyena





Livestock are not pets, if anything they would probably fit into the category of Equipment, but I'm going to put them on this list anyway (I may as well put dead animals on this list too) In anycase,

Rabbits

Muscovy Ducks

Things I want: Equipment Edition http://furry1337otaku.livejournal.com/22509.html
Things I want: Frivolous Things Edition http://furry1337otaku.livejournal.com/20562.html

In other words, I don't know what to put for a title. Had therapy today, followed by a good session of self reflection on the way home and requisite warming up/cooling down time(warming the fat, cooling the muscles, and easing my brain down).

I need to approach Q more honestly, but I'm afraid about how he'll take it. This transitional phase, while I pack and sort and get things out is trying for a number of reasons, but mostly because of how I have to related to him. I hope I'm overreacting, that it is the winter driving my paranoia and suspicion about the worst in people, but given Q's past coping mechanisms and lack thereof, there's a number of outcomes I see possible, and none of them are particularly reassuring ones. And the biggest reason I'm avoiding it all is because when it comes down to it, I just don't have the energy to look after him. And any issue that I might bring up might upset him, and then I will have to deal with the emotional fallout of helping him cheer back up.

On one hand, I feel like if I show too much enthusiasm for the move, to the point I'm afraid to pack in front of him, I feel like he'll end up suffering his self esteem issues and taking it all too personally and that I'll have to build him back up to keep him from doing anything drastic.

On the other hand, if I show any hesitation about the move it'll encourage his delusions that he might convince me to stay and that everything will go back to the way it was. I don't even know for sure if he really thinks that, but given his history of problem solving (and lack thereof) this is probably how his mind is working.

He's not making the transition easy for me, but I don't think he's intentionally making it hard either. I'm worried that pushing the issue one way or another will lead to a change for the worst. He's been redoubling his efforts to be the dependable nice guy he imagines himself to be, but to me, it's just an exhausting ordeal of him being clingy and me trying to salve his insecurities. And of course in as many days he's already broken two promises. First, yesterday he planned to get me a phone, we were going to go to a Cricket or Sprint store, and I was going to have a dumb(as opposed to smart) phone so I can start looking for a job (another issue of contention between us that I am afraid to pursue). Secondly, he didn't fold the laundry. He said he was going to do the laundry last week but didn't get to it until yesterday, and he promised he would fold it before I left for therapy.

I am currently grappling with the urge to do it myself, out of frustration, but I want him to do it, and also I want to tell him to sort all the laundry as I have already done so twice(granted I had someone else do it the second time but that isn't the point) and he threw it all everywhere digging for the clothes he doesn't keep neat enough to find. A few weeks ago, before I decided I was moving out much less told him about it I told him I didn't want to do all his laundry anymore and my next would be the last time. That I was going to separate our clothes and we can start taking turns.

I also need to have a talk with him, again, about options for him to start seeing a therapist. I'm not much looking forward to that because he doesn't think he needs help and trying to tell him why I think he needs help might also hurt the very self esteem issues I think he needs help with.

I'm also not sure how to confront him directly about the fact I feel like he might be trying to discourage me from leaving at all or that his increased attentiveness is actually kind of smothering. My therapist gave me a number for a women's shelter to call for advice if I need it, even though there hasn't been any suggestion of threats, much less violence, they may be able to offer me advice on how to make things go as smoothly as possible(and of course, the actual move out phase is when the worst comes out in a relationship).

So, now that the doldrums are out of the way I want to talk about happy things, I want to express how excited I am to be looking forward to getting out of this cramped and cluttered space and moving into a larger space I am free to clutter all by myself. I'm so tired of picking up after someone else, I hate how anything I do to try to organize things is immediately rendered obsolete as soon as someone else walks in the door. And SPAAAAAAAAAAAACE! I will have lots of it. And the best part of all that space. The best part. Is that I will be able to work on art again. And so much of it. So many projects that I will no longer have to shove into corners or wrestle with and force to cooperate just to fit in an area it is not meant to be. It means I can set out my projects where I can look at them, and they will look at me and I can finish them! I want to have a proper workspace, somewhere I can just flip the lights on and go to work at whatever odd hour I get inspired without having to tip toe around praying I'm not waking someone else up.

Oh god it feels so good just imagining being able to navigate a room, and having control over it. I want to be able to finally invest in and experiment with new products and mediums. And being able to really FINISH things, not half ass them because I can't afford the right tools or can't maneuver to use them. I can finally do all the things I'm raging over everyone else beating me to. Things I've been planning for years.

Here's some visuals of all the things I hope this move will mean I'm able to do(allow for the fact these are pictures from real established artists unlike myself).

A functioning workspace. http://www.furaffinity.net/view/7136861 http://www.furaffinity.net/view/6969227/ http://www.furaffinity.net/view/6665933/ http://www.furaffinity.net/view/6766193/

Sculpting, molding and casting http://www.furaffinity.net/view/7016924/ http://fc07.deviantart.net/fs51/f/2009/294/7/4/The_New_Unicorn_Tutorial_by_Indigo_Ocean.pdf http://www.furaffinity.net/view/6692781/ http://www.furaffinity.net/view/6536292/ http://qarrezel.deviantart.com/gallery/7080403#/d1p7axf

Painting http://www.furaffinity.net/view/7096092/

I kind of forgot therapy today. I remembered it yesterday, but somewhere between planning things today with friends and trying to organize my day, I've gotten all jumbled up. I'm currently waiting for my husband to leave so I can try phoning in, but I'm not sure if he's realized that a therapy session for me means no one around. Especially him. Granted that could be why he's still here. Also this script he's writing. *sigh* I need my own phone.

I haven't posted in awhile, or at least not at length. Everything has been a matter of waiting for one thing to pass while struggling to conceptualize the events which just happened.

The biggest thing is of course the fact that I am going to be moving in with friends without my husband. I broke it to him in a less than ideal fashion (him wheedling it out of me over the phone) and while he had a hissy fit on his own (he'll hate me for calling it a hissy fit, but I spent hours sorting the laundry he scattered worse than my dog with separation anxiety) he really was quite good about not taking it out on me directly. While it's definitely an improvement, I'm still suspicious of his motivations. I am not certain he's genuinely trying to be better so much as exhibiting the behaviors most likely tied to getting what he wants. It's a fine line and might seem like splitting hairs, but to me, intention is everything.

Also I could well be paranoid, half the reason I'm leaving is because my insanity will not allow me to invest in a serious relationship right now.

Half an hour's past, I don't think my therapist got my email/will be calling. Oh well, I'll send her a link to this journal later. I was going to call her, but as mentioned not while the hubby was around. I think he finally left now, which is a plus. Maybe I'll just bitch about him for awhile, and get the complaints off my chest.

It's probably not the issue and pissing myself off will not improve the quality of the next couple of weeks/months we have left living together. Granted, I need to pick a date now, because he just may very well have convinced himself that 1.) I will stay the full time until the lease runs out or 2.) that he can convince me not to leave. Luckily, I'll have company over helping me pack things so that might help estimations.

Anyway, I'm avoiding the more traumatic event that happened. Something that might scare me away from alcohol for awhile in a way that years of begruding admission of alcoholism hasn't. Everyone knows reaction time, comprehension and all forms of thought are impaired, but it's never before been an issue to me. I generally drink around/with friends in a safe, enclosed atmosphere. Most of the time no one comes near me uninvited. I was perhaps a little more flirty with a friend than I necessarily wanted to be, but I had the freedom to back out if I wanted. That wasn't a real issue. The issue was her father.

Those of you who've done any skimming of my journals/read my "expose`" post/or been following for any length of time know I have some pretty serious hang ups about my sexuality(not good enough/denigrated to a sex object) and especially about fathers. This is probably the most traumatic event I've suffered in years, and even though I've suffered worse, this one is fresh and hasn't had decades of emotional spackling to hold everything in place. There really wasn't anything I could do and the realization of being helpless is probably the most terrifying aspect of it.

He was supposed to leave earlier, to catch a bus. I had noticed him come back in from 'missing' said bus(I am not certain he did not do so intentionally), but paid it no mind. He was already a non-entity in my mind. Things went on throughout the night, I got more pickled, but didn't actually get that wild(I was clothed the entire night, I've actually gotten quite good about that). I spent most of my time in the general room with the asexual and kid sister of one of the wild room's participants. I was unaware of how wild things were in the wild room. When I ventured in, a half finished beer in one hand, I was entering for the sole expectation of hookah smoking, as that was the original reason for the room's sectioning off (my asexual friend is also allergic to smoke).

I was pulled into a rough embrace by my one friend who was regaling me with Q about what they had already done. I was processing the fact I did not see the hookah nor anyone sitting around socializing with it. My brain was slowly putting two and two together that everyone was paired(or more up) in writhing flesh piles. Then I noticed her dad sitting off in the corner watching. This was the moment I realized I wanted to leave. I might also have been receiving ministrations from my friend subverting my shirt, but I was barely conscious of that. In fact, I'm pretty sure my brain was slowly trying to figure out how to leave (I wasn't quite aware of the door yet, there were two or three people between me and the door). I slid away and sat down, brain still hard at work.

Her father started dirty talking about my breasts, it was awkward and I was uncomfortable, already busy trying to plan my escape, and I wrote him off with an attempt at a dismissive laugh. Then one of his hands snaked under my free arm and grabbed one of my breasts. The panic alarms went off as I struggled to understand what was happening, as I started adjusting my balance, his other hand snaked under my beer arm to grab the other. My brain was just clicking into the fact who I was being grabbed by. I managed to push myself up and away, but towards the pile on the bed, away from the door.

I managed to recover my balance, blurt something about needing to pee (which I did and my brain had finally realized was my excuse to leave I'd been looking for since I realized there was no hookah and I wanted to leave) and rushed to the bathroom. My brain was reeling as I finished the one drink, thought about needing more water, and started to realize what had happened. My fight or flight still hadn't kicked off by the time I finished, and I realized I still wasn't far enough away or safe from the source of my sudden fear. I rushed back into the private bedroom of my friends and found myself crawling backwards under my asexual friend's bed. I also recalled the pocket knife and drew it, flicking the long blade out and resting it in my hand.

I lay under there, struggling to fight the alcohol and figure out what to do and what was going on. After a time, I crept out little by little. First to the closet. Then to the utility room under a desk. By this time, my brain had started to clear and things seemed calm/safe. Just to be sure, I slid in between the asexual and the kid sister, trusting that their presence would keep me safe from further intrusions.

I grabbed my computer, went to ponychan for comfort and reassurance and started to relax. Q came out and tried to console me, and himself, about what had happened. He informed me that the father had left, and that if I'd just said "no" he would have broken in the man's face. He also told me that the father had been sexually harassing everyone that night, but hadn't broken the physical barrier. It didn't really help, but it didn't bother me enough to shove him off. I continued to pony for awhile, and the rest of the night I don't really recall. I'm hesitant to even let my husband touch my breasts. We've had sex once since.

I've been thinking about experimenting with asexuality myself for awhile. This move will allow me to experience some of it(low sexuality), not being consigned to spending every night with a man, and in fact in my own space, he won't be allowed(my soon to be housemates don't trust him), and wouldn't be able to spend the night with me any way as I'll be sleeping in a hammock. I'll enjoy the possibility of taking my own sexuality into my own hands, I want to invest in my own collection, and I will have occasional flings.

My husband isn't happy that I'm referring to the upcoming change as a demotion, that I will consider him a boyfriend rather than a husband (stage three rather than a stage five if you're familiar with the marriage contract we developed). He'll probably keep insisting that it's not. Time will tell if he comes to terms with it or not, but for now, I'm looking forward to not having to worry about him as every part of my daily life. I look forward to having control over my own spaces, deciding how to decorate and not worrying about someone else coming in and disordering my carefully organized controlled chaos.

With that, I'm going to start separating books. Perhaps I'll try to organized the laundry again.

For Pigeon love. Actually this will mostly have nothing to do with Hatoful Boyfriend, but I'm currently downloading a Japanese Language pack which will apparently for some reason allow me to play the demo in English. It's more fuss than a game about dating pigeons really deserves but I can't NOT play it.

So... I don't really know where to start or prioritize things. Stuff is about to change in my life, and it's going to be abrupt, and I'm not sure I'm quite as resiliant and flexible as I was. I'm unhappy with the rut I'm stuck in, and I'm very glad to be having the help escaping it, but I'm still really uncomfortable with the whole thing. I'm very certain about it, it's going to happen, and it will be wonderfully freeing, but it's also still going to be a conflicted experience for me.

Mostly it has to do with reasoning with my husband. I don't think he's going to take this change well, even if I feel like it won't be /as/ huge a deal. But that's probably because this decision was already made in my mind and it just took this long to let myself acknowledge and accept the conclusion. I'm not /leaving/ him, it's not a divorce, but it is a demotion. Maybe it's another fool's errand like the Zoo job, and I have some misgivings about potential furry dramas, but I'm pretty sure I can keep my head above it if that comes to it.

I need some of my own space to have control of, and start working on getting control of my life again. I love my husband, but I don't feel like I can rely on him. I don't trust that he's not going to let me down again. Hopefully one day I will and he can regain his confidence and passion.

I guess that's it really. Just stressing out in the interim until I see him tonight. Because I need to tell him. And then I can feel okay about planning everything else.

Well, except the hangover.

So last night, drunk, after my husband realized I was being avoidant and in general in a poor disposition towards him, we went outside and talked and I bawled and let everything pour out.

So he was very understanding and supportive.

My mood is improved, but I don't yet trust my disposition to remain steady, and there is a lot yet to do, but hopefully I can get through a few days without being swallowed by despair.