It’s my party and I’ll cry if I want to…

Mental Health Diaries- Since I haven’t written one of these in a while, why not on my birthday! Doesn’t that sound like fun?

Wow, it’s here! I am 31. I can’t believe how fast this year went by. 30 felt like such a big deal, so this feels kinda- meh. Plus, I usually hate my birthday and get really depressed around this time, and this year is no different. I have slept more in the last week than I have in months.

Since my last birthday, I’ve moved to a new city, lost my uncle, lost my partner’s father that we were living with, changed jobs, had a few terrible breakups, my partner K started a new full-time job (which is excellent, but changed our dynamics for sure), started camming again and focusing on sex work full-time, and began EMDR therapy! THANKFULLY I kept up with therapy.

When I first started it gave me terrible anxiety. My therapist told me she honestly didn’t expect to see me back, and I can’t say that I did either. One of the things we have uncovered in our time together is that I have a fear of leaving my house. I don’t think I’ve ever talked about that publicly before because it felt (and still does sometimes) very embarrassing to admit. After my mom’s murder, I remember my first therapist told me to be careful not to limit the things I’d do or my world would get smaller and smaller. Over the last 12 years I’ve worked really hard on that, but sometimes it feels like too much to handle. I’ve only had a handful of really big panic attacks, one landing me in the emergency room when I thought my lungs were collapsing (the same thing that happened when I was stabbed). I’ve also set some limits on things I won’t do like not driving, not going to movie theatres, and not parking/backing out of my home driveway alone. It sounds “crazy” to me (although I try not to use that word anymore) I still fall into the trap and hear it in the back of my mind, used to describe people like me. I can’t say that it’s due to my mom’s murder that I have this, I think it runs in my family, but knowing about it has made it slightly easier to deal with. There is still so much shame. When I first got diagnosed with PTSD at 18 years old, I felt like an infant who needed babysitting. It was humiliating. WHY CAN’T I JUST DO THE THINGS OTHER PEOPLE AROUND ME ARE DOING? WHY CAN’T I BE “NORMAL”?  I’d scream internally. This feels very similar to that, and I know how many people can’t possibly believe these things are real. But they are! I am still learning about it and how to help myself, but just saying it out loud is a big first step.

Birthday Blues about my momma…

IMG_4049Every year around this time I miss my mom something fierce. She would always make a big deal about my birthday and make it really special. The last time I had her around for a birthday was my 18th, I imagine what it would be like having her in my current life. What would it be like to have a mom? What would it be like to ask her about the day I was born and how her life was going at 31? When she died I was still really immature and I wish I could talk to her as an adult and tell her how much my views have changed about her, and motherhood in general, and to thank her again for loving me.

Now I am 31, and she died at 37. It’s scary to be around that age, and it makes me feel like I will die young too. She will always be 37 in my mind, and I’m embarrassed that I actually had to google to see how old she would be if she were alive. This is the result:

“You are 49 years, 9 months, 2 weeks, and 3 days old.

You were born on a Tuesday and have been alive for 18,187 days!”

Oh, that breaks my heart. I never stop to think about what her current age would be. Her life was cut off too short.

My birthday is also a time for reflection, where I am vs. where I thought I would be. I feel so much younger than 31 like I am just now waking up from the fog of trauma her murder and my attempted murder cast on my life for so long- but there is also this expectation that I should have my shit together by now. I don’t. Will I ever?

I wonder what she’d say about my life. About my queerness. I came out when I was 19, one year after her murder. That was always a huge regret. What would she think of the sex work and blogging and all of my choices? What would it be like to say the word “mom” every day, and have someone to call and text when I’m in trouble or need advice? This day also brings up the fact that I am not a mother, and as I creep slowly toward my mid 30’s, it feels like something that has to be decided upon, which opens up a whole can of worms- mother wounds and fears of my ability to mother/stay alive. But that’s a post for a different day.

One of the best gifts I’ve given myself, that I’ve been so aware of lately, is to stop trying to fill the mom-shaped void inside of me. I’ve tried everything. Drugs, sex, relationships, alcohol, shopping… it was a constant chase that ended with still feeling empty. I miss her every day, but around these certain times of year where it’s painfully obvious to me that she’s gone, I have learned to sit with the sadness. Not run from it. Let it wash over me and cry, sleep, laugh when I remember something funny about her. Try to find ways to honor her and keep her memory alive <3. That’s all I can do.

Thank you SO MUCH to everyone who has wished me a happy birthday! And all of you who read, subscribe, share, and especially those who have joined my patreon, onlyfans, and fancentro lately! Your support means the world to me!

 

 

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