Instead of accusing me of being delusional, losing my glasses, making fun of my nightmares, memory, or efforts to stay well and strong, I had one issue with sleep that wasn’t revisited. Accusing me of sickness, job loss, sexuality, crying, job type, car type, race, or age is unfair. These are issues I can’t face or take pride in while working hard, only to be mistaken as sick or losing my dry cleaners.
It’s not fair to freeze me out, use his voice, or reach out to what I should be haunted by or called the police about, like losing my job before it happened. I invited Benjy to a Cashio party, was late, sent to get food, and had low attendance. I got the job and was told of huge parties in Palm Springs with bodyguards. Accusing me of not sending invites purposefully to make someone respected unpopular or to defend a house or privilege is unfair. Losing weight, him being nice to me, or being skinny at Naomi’s 1st birthday, where I gifted her a book and wore a onesie in the snow running in NY, was short-lived privilege.
I did my best, aware of my size, and worked hard to lose weight. I had friends, saved photos, lost photos, and was made fun of for photos. I lost friends after a lawsuit and job loss. I’m doing my best, and if I’m going through something difficult, it’s not okay to accuse me of pretending to be close to a family or case the Kardashians represent. Accusing me of having sex issues, body dysmorphia, punishment, or alcohol problems at all moments in life when I was accepted is unfair. Whatever “cool” was, that’s how I was identified.
In many ways, I was hurt, played, made fun of, believed in, respected, and exposed in ways maybe no one saw the harm in. I managed his anger privately and dealt with a website for over a year. Now is a good example of managing a difficulty privately without bothering anyone, using voices, issues, terms, or diagnosis against me or disclosure. I blocked him, he came back, commented, supported me, and distanced himself when I was single. If you want to make me look stupid or make him look stupid, not care about either of us, or misunderstand loss to mean I discussed it publicly, a website dishonest or not hurt or accusatory.
Whatever happens to me represents issues of loss, comfort, love, support, closeness, person type, age type, sex type, belief type, beauty standards, and size matters. It’s not about me not loving myself or working hard. I can’t figure out a photo or accuse my face changes as not beauty or standard. It’s hard for me to block, be supported, and get hurt. From Aug 30 to now, things got worse and worse. At no stage of handling taking down a website was I dishonest about voices. I’m sad about how many times voices need to be reported, disclosed, discussed, managed, made fun of, or changed in diagnosis to mean something’s wrong with me.
I’m sorry that I accidentally committed suicide by overdosing on diet pills. I survived, was made fun of, took responsibility for an issue I should deal with, and recognized how he’s hurting me. Staying well, letting no writing, disbelief, photo source, creation, hard work, fitness, or exercise mean it’s okay for someone to feel bad or think it’s made for them. No one cared why I didn’t model. I pushed myself upon him, insisting, made fun of, exposed, and made the issue working hard to not fight with someone and get hurt. It doesn’t mean I need support or help, court, attorney, rejection, or going through a difficulty imagined.
I did my best. I made a phone call to Texas, lucky someone answered, given a call back number, requested a submission, provided information, and detailed what I’m going through honestly. Walking in public at night didn’t help or solve voices. Given support to get help taking down a website hurting me, which I’m too late to prevent, change, or solve voices being hurt, looking stupid, or credit effort or difficulty. It’s not about me being hurt; nothing’s a big deal. Everyone matters. I’m no place better, put me down so low in life so I don’t exist. I did my best, not failing, unloved.
I think however he’s winning, have compassion for whatever I said wrong is how I’m losing, and whatever the diagnosis is, exists cured or not cured. Why make fun of phone calls, making me tired, being off meds, not publicly detailing a solution? I accept my life, my place, respect everyone’s peace effort, everyone matters, accept punishment, support therapy, etc., accept being sober for many years, not a drug addict. Consider my difficulties not explained by alcohol or voices. I can endure challenges alone. It’s okay if he keeps ruining my life, making fun of how I handle life or why or when I go nuts, hope high my head, make fun of what’s too much, or accuse me of not being hurt if no one resists me, defends me, needs my help, cares about my story, accuses me of changing or being strong in an offensive way, continues to not let up, not classify among the protected, not let me talk to anyone.
I don’t have a solution for what makes people work hard to write a tech issue or Apple photos issues. I’m not a bullying voices joke. Not talking to anyone is subjecting me to voices, isolation, rejection, outing me, not caring about my story, not thinking I’m important. It’s not about being helped, causing concern, punished, not allowed to be in my care, not hurtful or arguable. I can’t control how I’m dealt with. I worked hard to attend meetings. I’m sad I got sick, hospitalized, wasn’t well enough to sit, and discontinued attending.
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