I had a great weekend. Sleepover and bonfire with Cal, plenty of cuddles and watching Avatar the Last Airbender (it's on Netflix now) and trying out a new game he got: Nioh 2. It was kinda fun, but I'm not feeling the whole "demon" thing. They creep me out, and if I'm being honest, my dad's beliefs about such things have rubbed off on me a bit. Can't discount it, anyway.
Still. It was a really nice weekend.
Oh, my glasses arrived today. I ordered them from Firmoo and they look fantastic. I got one pair that's clear/gold rimmed and has a night time anti glare coating on it, and a burgundy pair that are blue-light cancelling. I'll wear the gold ones on the regular and the red ones when I'm on my computer.
I also installed faux locs in my hair again - the last time I did that was maybe in 2014 or 2015. My dad hates it, of course, and is convinced that I am sliding further and further down the slippery slope into hell - apparently they're not a protective style and they're just a means for demons to enter me I suppose. Well. Sigh.
Thing is, the person that he wants me to be; the daughter he wanted - that's not who I am. I'm someone who likes piercings and playing the piano, who wants to try out video games and likes to speculate about aliens and time travel, who believes in science and stretches her earlobes and wants to have pet cats. I'm someone who always wants to know why before I choose to believe something, who wants to experience life on my own terms and drink a bottle of beer once in a while (as in once every four or five months).
But he wanted a singer with a heavenly voice; a gymnast or basketball player who wears long skirts and loose clothes and never ever ever cuts her hair. Someone who is one hundred percent involved in an old-time Pentecostal church and never so much as looks at a man unless she's been told by a pastor that this man is to be her husband. Someone who reads the Bible every single day (I'll admit, ain't nothing wrong with that) and doesn't question what she's told. Even if it's social media telling you that a vaccine (that doesn't exist yet) has a microchip in it and is going to be the mark of the beast. I swear this is getting to be too much to handle mentally.
When I got depressed after my mother died and lost 30 pounds, he told me I didn't look good; I looked too skinny and who would want me like that? Meanwhile literally everyone else was telling me how great I looked, and aside from wishing my butt was a little bigger, I liked myself at that size. Then when I gained back the 30 and an additional 10, he pointed out the cellulite on my thighs and said I was getting too big, that men don't like cellulite, and asked if I was pregnant.
*laughs bitterly and shrugs*
Can't win with him, huh? That's why I've pretty much given up. I think I need to move out, but the problem is, I can't f*cking afford it. Not unless I live in my car, and what will I do with the cats then? Perhaps I should keep applying for affordable housing. Maybe I'll get lucky.
At least I'm back in school now, working on my masters. That reminds me: I need to register for fall classes, but first I have to find out whether or not I qualify for financial aid if I'm part time. I'll do that this evening when I'm done writing on here.
Tomorrow I have a zoom call scheduled with a feminist/steminist/motivational coach, and I really hope that I can participate in her program and that it helps me to stop procrastinating and doubting myself.
I mean, I can either continue to live in my dad's shadow and second guess every decision I make, feel bad about doing my hair or whether or not I decide to spend a bit of money on some decor or clothes, or I can woman up and be an adult and start living like one.
And I don't think I can reasonably do that still living at home.
I will first get myself stable financially, and then I will move out. I can't deal with the anxiety anymore.
I get anxious when I know he's coming home, or going to be home. I start to feel like I've done something wrong and I'm going to get in trouble whenever I think of him. If I spend an extra night away from home I'm convinced he's going to kick me out. I live in constant fear of judgment.
Oh my gosh.
Now I see what my mother was going through. Now I understand why her anxiety was always through the roof, why she often took it out on me, and why she was stressed.
It's very unfortunate. I can't imagine being married to the person who makes you feel that way, and worse, being 100% dependent on them because you're not working.
I must never be dependent on a man.
I've noticed that my anxiety from my dad is leaking out into other areas of my life and making me worry about what other people think of me, too. It's not good. I will conquer it.
Yeah. I'm aiming for a one bedroom apartment. I might like the idea of studios, but ain't nothing wrong with a one bedroom if you can afford it. Alrighty.
The writing has helped.
And my glasses are cool.
See ya next time.
