it’s been an exhausting week.

“exhausting” isn’t even really the right word, but i don’t know where to begin.

i don’t want to make this a journal just about work - but there is work shit, because there’s always work shit.

cw: probably triggering, best you don’t read it

it’s me again.

i don’t know where to start.

i know - like, intellectually - that i’m depressed.

after talking with my partner, and some friends, i don’t think i’m going to be continuing with the partial hospitalization program past tomorrow.

i gave it a good try, but it’s genuinely making me feel worse.

the group setting is not working for me, the tools that have been shared i already have and know and in moments of crisis they just are not working for me.

i won’t always be here.

these are the words every parent invariably finds themselves saying - even if only to themselves.

i won’t always be here. to take care of you. to carry you. to hold you. to cover for you. to make sure you’re fed, have clothing, shelter, warmth. medicine if you need it. someone to talk to when no one else will listen. someone to hold all the things you need to pour into me. a container. a vessel.

i decided to randomly write a blog without a purpose, without a plan in mind, without trying to journal or log any specific event, but just to let go the unedited flow of words that come from my fingers.

EDIT: wrote this saturday but debated posting it until just now, after speaking with a friend and “coming out” to them as doing this work

my sister was (anonymously) subscribed to my blog, apparently. i’m pretty open about what i say on here and about what i do — but it still feels like a weird vibe when someone’s watching you — secretly.

i’m wary of becoming more circumspect in my blog, because it goes against everything i stand for. but i also don’t really want to feel like i’m being silently judged for my choices to be open about how i live.

since i’ve not been doing a great job at writing about process, i thought i’d make a bit more detailed post about my upcoming show.

which is as far as i got in this blog before i got distracted with other things for 11 days.

i don’t even know where to begin.

i’m supposed to be taking the next week off. i started writing this last week. now i’m supposed to be taking **this** week off and finally finishing this.

so of course i found “work” to do. 🤦🏻‍♀️

my car was repo’d earlier this week (last week - got it back yesterday - tldr: do mutual aid shit, it’s so important) — which is annoying, humiliating, frustrating, terrifying, and so many other feelings.

fascism, particularly in the 21st century, thrives on attention. it demands it. it is fueled by it. it consumes attention and requires ever greater amounts. that attention fuels its shallow and hollow power. it only has the power we give it, and that power — power rooted in fear and control — is always fragile and transitory.