Day 41 – February 10th, 2020

Hello, hello! I have a little bit of time before I have to start getting ready for work, so I may as well type out a log. 

…I always pause here to wrack my brain as to what I’d like to talk about or write about, LOL. Ah, let’s talk about a moment that just occurred! 

So I just got home from Adrian’s and I’ve been chilling this morning, watching some Simpson’s and killing some time. About twenty minutes ago, my mom just got home from work, which is pretty early considering the amount of jobs she has. 

Anyways, it didn’t even take 3 minutes for her to start asking me when I was planning on graduating, when I plan on finding a full time job, how old I currently am, etc. And I can feel the old me getting triggered on some level while the current me breathed through it and stayed calm. 

It ain’t easy though. There’s still some part of me deep down that has those exact fears and worries, even with all the therapy I’ve been through to come to terms with where I am in life. I’m not ashamed of myself and I don’t regret anything, and I do have faith in my process. I don’t blame her for worrying probably mostly out of motherly concern, because if I were her and I had a 27 year old daughter who’d been in university for what seems like 10 years who hasn’t graduated yet and there was no imminent sign of her graduating, I’d probably be pretty concerned too. It’s hard when you’re on the outside looking in, to trust the process of someone you care about. 

So, I get it on some level, I do. I’m still learning and re-learning how not to take her concern personally and do my best to put into perspective where it’s really coming from. At least she’s not berating me for it, mostly just asking me questions that she has every right to ask. It’s up to me to react accordingly – not out of my own fears or doubts, but out of equal concern and compassion. 

And you know, she’s not wrong – since this year has began, the only thing I’ve really done in regards to my petition is pick up the rest of my paperwork from my doctor. I haven’t made any movements to put my petition altogether or anything like that, not since the end of last year before Christmas. I don’t know what I’m waiting for. 

In my idealistic world, in my head, I write my book and it takes off and I don’t have to worry about being in thousands of dollars of debt trying to get through a degree. But I mean, that could still happen even if it’s in a different order. 

All I know is, right now my book is my priority. Amidst work, I’m trying to get into a headspace where I’m 100% passionately dedicated to bringing it to life – I can’t have anything less than that or it will show. It’s just hard because I’m so easily distracted LOL. (Then again, I have been off of my ADHD medication for quite some time now). 

I have to make a schedule maybe: on the days I have off to myself in totality, I can spend a certain amount of hours putting my petition together, then working on my book. I have to properly manage my time or else I will fall into complacency, and ultimately back into autopilot mode. Everyone needs a purpose! Everyone needs a cause, something to work towards. I know what mine is, and I’m doing myself a disservice by not taking advantage of all this time I’ve been given. 

Tomorrow I have a full day off to myself (minus some plans in the evening), so perhaps I can wake up early, designate some time to each thing I’d like to do, and get some stuff done. It’s good to feel productive and to act on those impulses. I have to move forward with my life, one way or another, or risk getting stuck once more. 

Anyways, I should probably start getting ready for work. Lately I’ve gotten into the bad habit of dreading my shifts, but I really shouldn’t. I’m thankful for this job, thankful for my coworkers, thankful for the hours and the financial abundance it provides me with. 

I’m thankful!! THANKFUL I SAYYYYYY!!!

Until tomorrow then! 

Love always, 

Stephanie. 

Addendum to Log 41:

Welp, all that patience I had today just flew straight out the window. Probably due to my raging PMS hormones than anything else, but yep, I hit the end of my rope. 

For the past two weeks or so, since I’ve dyed my hair blue, it’s been fading to a pastel green with hints of some turquoise, but yes, for argument’s sake, green. And I’ve had to hear it from my coworkers: “why is your hair green? When are you going back to blonde? I don’t like how this looks on you. Blonde looks better on you. I know you’re young and you have these crazy phases, but you’re 27 now and you shouldn’t be doing these things.” 

And you know, it didn’t really bother me for a while because all the hair that I have is on MY HEAD. MY. HEAD. NO ONE ELSES. MY. GODDAMN. HEAD. 

So really, I didn’t give two flying fucks about anyone’s comments but I much appreciated the compliments I did receive. 

However yet again, another shift today, same comments. It just gets tiring after hearing the same old over and over and over again. I don’t care, I really don’t, but I’m also not a robot either and even I, as a *human* (shocker) have limits. 

Shit thing is at work, I can’t really tell people to mind their own business (even politely) without offending people or causing some level of commotion. (This is clearly yet another boundary lesson for me in disguise, I can tell even as I’m writing this). 

So, unfortunately for my dad, he’s the one who caught it today. But I’m getting ahead of myself. 

While I was at work, Olivia let me know that my mom decided to “clean” my room (aka snoop through my shit), and happened to find a little weed I had.

The most maddening part is, she acted completely normal when I got home. At this rate, I would have preferred an interrogation because I have all this pent-up rage now and it has nowhere to go. 

Anyways, as my dad was leaving to go pick up Bea, he made a comment saying my hair was ugly and he had no idea what I was doing. And I let it pass with a vague “mhmmmm” as my mom warned him to refrain from commenting on me and my shit. 

Moments later however, once he’s back, I feel someone touching my hair. I look up, and it’s my dad (albeit probably rather good-naturedly) asking me why it was green or something. I say “or something”, because at this rate, I have no fucking idea what he’s saying because I’ve already began yelling at the top of my lungs:

“YOU KNOW WHAT?!?!? IT DOESN’T FUCKING MATTER WHAT COLOUR MY HAIR IS OR HOW MANY TATTOOS I HAVE – I COULD GET 18 MORE TATTOOS AND DYE MY HAIR EVERY FUCKING COLOUR OF THE RAINBOW AND IT DOESN’T MATTER BECAUSE IT’S MY HAIR AND MY BODY-

Something along those lines, yup. Seriously unfortunate timing, because I really was just moments before thinking about how I’d love to address this in tomorrow’s log and vent maybe. Welp, it is what it is. 

I felt bad during and right after, and even now. It’s not completely my dad’s fault and I didn’t mean for him to catch the vitriol that I’ve been collecting for the better part of this day. It was just the last straw unfortunately. I started off on such a good note with being able to empathize with my mom, but then she went through my stuff while I was at work (and apparently talked shit about me to my sister but what else is new), and then everyone at work had to open their big ass mouths and say whatever the fuck they wanted about my hair as they have been for WEEKS, and then my dad just had to hop on the “let me say things that I know my wife will approve of” train and that was it, kaboom. 

It’s been a while since I’ve snapped or lost my temper. It felt good in the moment, but it doesn’t anymore. I can’t imagine living with that kind of anger on a daily basis or snapping like that regularly. It’s human, sure, but it’s also very destructive. 

I’ll apologize to dad tomorrow. His remarks are not okay and inexcusable, but my anger was misdirected. 

Stupid PMS. Man, I was doing just fine handling all this shit before all these emotions had to come flooding through. Can I just admit to myself here though that I really do have a hard time with criticism? I mean, I knew I was a sensitive baby child but jeez, this is ridiculous. 

To defend myself though – it’s been weeks of these comments and they haven’t been bothering me at all up until today. I think I’m going to have to say something to the next person who makes a comment about it at work. I have to establish my boundaries as kindly but firmly as I can so I don’t end up creating all this pent-up resentment and frustration and have this kind of thing happen again where I misdirect it at someone who doesn’t completely deserve it. 

I can’t begin to imagine what it must be like for kids who live with families who don’t completely accept who they are or have certain expectations or conditions when it comes to their love for their children. That’s so shit. 

At the end of the day, I’m not here to fit into anyone’s narrative or to make anyone comfortable with my appearance. I’m not here to adhere to society’s standards of “professionalism” or their cookie-cutter mentality. I don’t care how old I am or how I’m supposed to be presenting myself “at this age”. My appearance, my hair colour, my tattoos – none of that should denounce my capabilities, intelligence, or who I am as a person. 

And that’s the tea. Everyone or anyone who thinks otherwise can quite literally go fuck themselves.

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