September 2020
Not so chuffed today Daddy. The premenstalness is far from its worst but that's not saying much. Considering moving on a little if we can from addressing you Daddy. Or rather let parts that never knew any good Daddies have the keyboard a bit more. Difficult though. Sometimes we just can't accept that we don't know.
Your back though Em. It's always ridiculous, lovely with paranoia ripples remembering you. The boy I shouted at for paying too much attention. Then slide back into having no idea and no way to find out and its lonely and fucking tiresome.
There was a friend from Uni we have been thinking about but we can't bring ourself to write about it. We can't remember her last name. We have needed it and would not of survived without it but friendship can turn a glaring light on all the negative ways we are treated. All the pain that isn't felt becomes very noticeable. Things that just are get showed up as seriously not right.
The fiction book we were reading got way too predictable way to often and now we can't go back to it or start anything else.
God awful QAnon talk means US media makes me feel like I'm watching BBC or Sky. Fascists gaslighting as fascists do. Organised like only the stupid and the heartless can be. Trigger Trigger Trigger. Cunts. There is no neighbor from multigenerational drugs and slavery webs calling me a child abuser anymore but there is QAnon playing a similar role. We need time to feel the differences its certainly further away physically. The whole notion that a spoilt idiot who owned beauty pagents, been in porn, has many sexual abuse accusations against him, doesn't pay his workers and said on camera that his baby daughter has nice legs is fighting child abusers, so fucking Fife, so British & Russian to us like protecting slaver rings by saying its witness protection, like speaking out about abuse means you get formally interviewed by your abusers and mental health services set up on the understanding that if someone talks about they must be insane and suicidal as everyone knows their power is total. That never ending emotional and psychological abuse of victims and survivors. Showing off how they can cause people grief just through accusations when they do worse and lots of people know and no matter how good any physical evidence is and how many voices there are its never enough to cause them any trouble. Makes everything hopeless.
Growing up we wished that the privileged peoples of the world had to face or at least acknowledge the same sickness we had to and wondered if was the only thing that might change not just how we were treated day to day but what and who we are officially. Don't know now. Weather getting autumny has had us feeling like big change is coming could easily just be weather though and that spark of hope in us that just wont go out.
New cycle starts, ten days later than the last one. It's typically painful I was worried the lateness might make it even worse. Got into more fiction, continuing with a supernatural theme a physicist has been recruited has a medium. Liking the portrayal of purgatory as filled with those who are remembered and who have left relics and how there needs to be an effort to keep decent people remembered as humanity is so fascinated with evil, and how evil itself is just assholes with opportunities.
That early memory has been around and a therapist's response to it. Woodside road in Glenrothes, Christmas morning. Everyone is in the front room unwrapping presents but I don't go down the stairs, I'm not sure I can and don't feel part of the family. Margo takes me down after a while. I remember Lynne's toy wooden highchair and lollipops but nothing else. The look of serious concern on the therapist's face, that a toddler wouldn't feel part of the family, that they would of been left alone at all on Christmas morning while siblings opened presents. Now we are getting a sense of their being another girl upstairs and not wanting to leave her, that she did feel like family. The coldness and the distance we feel in those early memories, the belief that we would be somewhere else with other people soon. Not really what happens in a child who has been carried and breastfed and cared for by the same woman.
As soon as we move on from any sense of a Daddy another pops up or comes back. You could see how much we had lost at the hospital and how it wouldn't be coming back by itself. Then maybe they killed you because you refused to leave me. But maybe we are both smarter than that and definitely smarter than that together even if we only had a few minutes. Maybe you really couldn't be taken out like that.
What's certain anyway is that experiences and a life even vaguely normal do not result in all this.
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