i hung out with dog boy all weekend, it was really, really fun! and by all weekend i mean he slept over two days in a row, even if those days weren't TECHNICALLY the weekend. it was my weekend because i got to spend it with him. i have this yellow circular cushion thing that's like the size of a decently large, round dinner table, and he slept on it beside my chair while i worked on this site, which was super amazing. i really appreciated that he did that, it made me feel less alone.
for reference, i live with my parents, after trying once to cut contact with my mom. my goal now is to secure a job, (hopefully the one mentioned in a previous entry) save up for a stenography keyboard which is around 100 USD, and then pour as much time into that as humanly possible without giving myself burnout. then i can figure out the rest as it comes. as soon as i have a good amount saved up, i want to move out into a roommate living situation with dog boy and some of his friends, and get the fuck out of dodge, never having to speak to my mother again. truth be told, the only reason i'm talking to her is because i care about my dad. i think at one point in my life there was a version of myself who would have said that my father was worse at parenting than my mother, but jeez was i wrong about that.
something i've wanted to talk about on this blog was my experience in the institution, ideally in really big bold scary letters. editor oscil please do that. when i was roughly ages 14-16, i experienced really terrible mental health issues due to being socially isolated by my parents. this had nothing to do with covid-19, this was something separate i went through that was just. absolutely. abysmal. they would take away all means of communication, no matter what it was. they would forbid me from leaving my house, let alone my room, for fear that i might get some shred of social interaction that would go against their wishes, while disguising it as the whole "it's in your best interest" or "we're doing this for your own good" bullshit that terrible parents do while knowing exactly what they're doing and why they're doing it. so . . .
i tried to off myself
i don't remember what medication i was taking at the time, but essentially i took my weeks worth of double doses, whatever was in that pill organizer. everything else is fuzzy, but i think i almost died or whatever. i refrain from talking to people i know about it who i think are "normal," at least mentally speaking, because i swear to god man once they know, they look at you like a cornered feral animal. they're now unsure of the moves you'll make. after i drank the activated charcoal shit they give you to neutralize the "poison" in your stomach, they pumped my stomach. then i went to a psych ward. we all know how that goes. if you don't imagine prison but everything is suicide proof and you watch movies sometimes.
then came the heavy hitter: wilderness therapy. hooooooly shit did i not think at the time of trying to kill myself that there could possibly be a hell for people under the age of 18 that was worse than being alive. boy was i WRONG. i'll talk about it more next update, i'm feeling real lazy and tired right now.
goodnight oscil.