Too Much

More SRs today. I’m up to 8 active and 1 that’s resolved but still needs mitigation research. I’m gonna have to punt some of them to other teams this weekend, once I figure out someplace I can make them stick. And I’ve got one that’s a research project in itself that I do not understand why we are handling as an SR. I think it’s because there’s a publication deadline next month but if we’re serious about meeting that this is an engineering-wide project. I’m going to just ignore it until next week and see what the team says.

Went to robots this afternoon but I was only half there. It’s still a lot of work to be operating under my own power – I’m not in much pain anymore but I have to pay a lot of attention to how I move. And I’m fraking exhausted from the week. But it was a good time. I made sure at least one robot worked. It’s the first place I’ve been with other people since last Friday, which was good even if I wasn’t up for paying careful attention.

I think I made Mother stop beating me by using empathy against her. I started being able to see the difference between her feelings and mine and I used that to hurt her. Or that least that’s what I was told – I was asked to feel bad about it, for “tricking” her into not hitting me the right amount. I felt guilty a out it. I still do. But I kept doing it anyway, even though I knew it was bad, and knew it hurt people. It’s part of why I imagine my attachment or my care hurts people, or that I’m unjustly manipulating them. Because I do it for selfish reasons (like not wanting to get hit and though I “deserved” it). And it worked, if I was willing to pay the price of not being human. It’s why I was literally locked out on the porch by her avoidance, and sent to spend so many days alone and away from the house. It’s why I’m so sensitive to your avoidance.

I feel a little like I’m Music Man’ing you, asking you to join the same cult I’ve been trying to start since high school. Unfairly manipulating you to feel good about the thing I’m selling. Shanda yells that she’s on-board but that just confirms my worst fear – that I’ve tricked you into hurting yourself. That you’ll defend me against the people who are trying to save you from me. That no one will stop me before I hurt somone.

I can see how I’ve convinced many of you that I am someone you can call in an emergency. Which, if I can avoid feeling guilty for 8 seconds, seems like a good thing. I’m pretty sure it’s part of this social support network thing I’m trying to do. A genuine skill I’d like to share with you, if I can ever convince you – or myself – that it’s safe to use. But my brain is so ready to see it as grooming and isolation. I want you to always feel like there’s someone you can call when things are tough and you don’t know what else to do. I’m genuinely, truly happy to act in that role. And also my brain is convinced that being happy you talk to me before dying is proof that I’m grooming you for nefarious uses. That imagining anyone would talk to me in less dire circumstance is pure narcissism. My brain is a real dick to me sometimes. But we should still see if it can teach you how to do the thing where people think you can help.

More sad news from Cleveland. We lost a other pig. In the middle of illness and abandonment, finals and transitions, it’s a lot to take. Too much. It’s hard even from here and I’m only living it second hand. My heart is already on a plane just to be nearby while I try to imagine ways to make it better; my brain is only one step behind.

Needless to say M is having a real hard time, not just with the events but in feeling the loss of support you only recently started to believe in. It’s a time of stress and abandonment and grief and anger and it’s all framed in a belief that you are the cause. That you somehow deserve this. Times are hard, and your pain is far too great. But it’s not pain you create, it’s what you’ve been asked to endure by a world that refuses to let you be human. Pain you bear because you insist on being an amazing human anyway.

Probably other things are happening. But my mind doesn’t have a lot of space for them today.

ZiB


Sent from a phone.