FUCK ur proper propriety: i will put ur shit on blast (as well as my own)

yeh, i said it. FUCK YOU.

these words and other similar sentiments are wot get me through my days. i have been diagnosed with chronic PTSD and have had a tremendously tiring time in procuring and sustaining work. this has led to a lengthy bout of unemployment. in and out of jobs. in and out of the hospital. in and out of jail. this has been my plight since my return to Ohio.

i hate Ohio. lemme be clear. i hate it as much as i hate trying to shit while constipated. the feeling of being underwhelmed and unfulfilled permeates all aspects of my existence. this hate started back in middle school when i befriended a kid from LA who lamented the lack of culture and sunshine. like her, i was deeply dissatisfied with my state of being a square peg, and i was quick to adopt her framework; she spoke the cool-kid language and i wanted to be a cool kid.

now that i’m an adult, i find it difficult being back in Ohio where it seems like not much has changed. i have to fight to dance wildly at DIY shows(apparently half-mooning ppl is not seen as an act of defiance, but rather an act of insult). and my family — with whom i have v. little contact — refuses to see me as the person i am today: a genderqueer, punk feminist. i’ve heard from old friends that i never used to be this “extreme”.

i’ve been stretched so fucking thinly from different life experiences — eating mushrooms at music festivals, fucking in the back of a Subaroo, high on said drugs, having an abortion against my will, watching a close friend die from a heroin OD, being homeless, fucking a coupla homeless men, getting into an abusive/controlling relationship, leaving behind all of my belongings and my dearest cat companion, Buddy, living with my childhood abuser as an adult, surreptitiously leaving mother’s house to live with an acquaintance who happens to be my father, being gaslighted for speaking my pain, being ostracized by former friends who can’t accept me as i am, and finally breaking ties with toxic ppl — including my brother and mother.

putting it mildly, i don’t give a fuck.

i can’t bring myself to shrink anymore for others’ comfort. of course i am mindful and considerate (except when i’m not b/c my thoughts have taken tally). of course i take notice of body language (except when i don’t b/c i’m engulfed in the fire of anxiety). of course i have EQ (except when i don’t b/c nothing makes any sense and i don’t understand). and this is all part of it.

my pain can be seen on my freshly cuts wrists. it is often shown on my deepeningly lined face. and on my revealing Facebook posts.

i boldly share my struggles a political act which Laura Mathis coined “radical softness”. top highlights include: “harassed in dt Akron last night. this man said “wotever you are — you need to leave” to which i replied (i’m a human being)”; “ever considered becoming a prostitute? i know i have.”; “i never wanted these breasts.”; “i sit in my haus. $10 to my name. pain in my gut. and cottonmouth.”; “i grew up feeling oppressed. BEING oppressed. you will never fucking know wot that feels like. Ever.”; “i am Jossie Grossie. i have never been popular. i never had a ton of friends growing up — i was bullied in middle school and at home. i was told that i didn’t deserve to be heard, seen. and now i’m FINALLY having friends who see me and hear me and let me be who i’ve always wanted to be!”

i also share nude photos of myself — my bush, my breasts. i shamelessly plug myself and troll Sarah Silverman.

it’s scary to be so revealing, and i often find myself deleting posts the next morning or hours later when my marijuana high sinks and i realize that my vulnerability-protection has worn off.

being naked on Facebook is my solace. and i receive enough positive comments in posts (and in messages) that i feel like telling my story/sharing my struggle helps others share theirs.

and also, it boldy declares “i don’t give a fuck!”