Colorful and hopefully optimistic but maybe hateful occasionally


So here’s how it’ll go in my head.

The example I’m going to use is liking green geese because I feel it’s useful and childish enough to feel harmless.

I’ll think, “What if I liked green geese?” Because that’s very bad.

I’ll remind myself that it doesn’t matter if I liked them. A child shouldn’t have been exposed to geese. Not that young. (Haha, this example is funny to picture. “Oh, no, they saw GEESE???? As a CHILD???”)

But then I think, “But, what about now? Now, when you hear about geese, you get all sympathetic. Is that a trained response? Or.... do you like green geese?”

I remind myself that what happened when I was a child was out of my control. I may have been trained. But the important part is that I was young, and it is totally natural for my brain to be concerned over this. I just need to take a deep breath and let it go.

Then the thoughts stop for a few weeks and I live a normal life free of a very specific depression and anxiety.

And then it comes back when I have distressing dreams. My brain will say back to me, “Okay, yeah. That happened when I was a child. I get that. But I liked the geese.”

I remind myself that whether I liked the geese was completely irrelevant. That shouldn’t have happened. I shouldn’t have seen geese.

“Okay, sure. But this would have happened even if we never met that pedophile.”

“What would have happened?”

“The geese. You’d have seen them eventually.”

And immediately I feel such a deep shame that I isolate and can’t look at anyone. I don’t feel free to talk to a therapist about it. What if she thinks I’m crazy? What if she tells me what I said is irredeemable? Or, worse... what if she tells me it’s, I dunno, the OCD claiming I’m something I’m not. And then I have to disagree with her, because I know I liked the geese. In my heart, I know it’s some odd part of me that society hates.

And then I pause the thoughts and tell myself that this is that new word I learned, rumination. And it’s okay to be afraid, or have feelings, or be traumatized. I’m not going to go look at geese. I never have. I never will. Reading about it in forums and being forced to do it are NOT THE SAME THING as loving it.

And then the little voice comes back. It says I’m wrong. I found out I like seeing green geese. I’m one of those people, like the pedophile. Only it’s just green geese. So it can’t be as evil as him, right? I mean, the pedo being a pedo was undeniably wrong. It doesn’t matter if I’ve talked to other kids who claimed they liked it. They themselves said they would never. I am traumatized to the point of needing to watch young kids in public for signs of trafficking. It’s wrong. It’s not okay. That’s an easy answer. There are literally anonymous support groups for pedos who want to stay away from those awful thoughts. And luckily that’s not a problem I ended up with. That pedo i talked to didnt love me. He was just some sicko.

But is going to see green geese okay? I only ever talked to the pedo on that. He’s not a good source. But in my obsession over it, my worry he might have made me one of them, I sure did find a tight knit, according-to-them oppressed community of people who really like going out and seeing these rare geese. And they rag and rag on ethics and care so much about preservation and doing the right thing. To the point of banning members who even hint at anything that might abuse.

Did they convince themselves these geese are fine? Or...? ????

Does it matter? No. It shouldn’t, definitely not this much.

I’ve tried to stop these thoughts before they get too far, but I’m... worried about it.

And deeply ashamed.

It’s terribly enough the same feeling i got when I asked out a girl in first grade and my teacher told me she was suspending me and I was “lucky” she didn’t tell my mom. You know. Like I’m ashamed of a valid part of myself. Being told by someone else it’s wrong. Despite the fact that being a lesbian is a normal thing, just something that wasn’t acceptable to some people. They were wrong.

Is this just some sort of fantasy, or something? Because of all the times I’ve thought about it, I finally realized I’ve never attempted to see these geese, even though it would be possible. I can’t even picture it. I feel parental to geese. Not someone who’d go see them.

Ugh. I don’t want to post this. Maybe I should make a special private post for this. Or I could edit it away, I guess.

But it’s just rumination. It doesn’t actually mean anything. Whatever my brain is trying to figure out, it means nothing in the grander scheme of things. The answer doesn’t matter one way or the other.

I mean, it’s still irrelevant. I shouldn’t have been exposed to green geese. That’s still the end of it. Even people who see green geese say this, without me promoting them. If I ask if it was okay, they stop me at the mention of my age. They recommend I re-report to the police and get him locked away.

It was wrong, and it’s terrible I’ve been left with this Awful Worry. So, brain, let’s just leave it at this, okay? The pedo was in the the wrong. We both agree there, no problem. We both agree he should not have exposed a child to green geese. We both agree that we don’t care if people like seeing green geese. Unless there is abuse. ....Is it always abuse?? No?? Doesn’t matter. I’m not exactly going to be jumping in and checking and fixing everything, am I? And again, I am not interested in seeing these green geese myself. So who cares? Let it go. It’s fine to let it go. Because it does not matter to my life or future, literally at all. So chill. Stop it and chill out. Please and thanks.

My goodness that was hard to write. My brain now says y’all are gonna judge the shit out of me for this. I’m going to go ahead and assume I shouldn’t care about that. Because it doesn’t matter. It’s just rumination. And I’m not going to hurt anyone for having a thought.

Thoughts are not facts.

Let’s see if this cures/improves my rumination problem on this. It’s bothering me so much. I don’t want to be a bad person, or a person who’s seen as bad. But I’m just going through some shit. And liking something as a kid who was exposed when they shouldn’t have been? Not the same thing as being someone who regularly seeks out green geese. Y’know?

Okay, I’m beating a dead horse here. Post it. No one cares as much as you think they do. It’s just what trauma looks like. Lot of people worry about liking their trauma and what that means. I’ve worried it made me gay. Or not a woman. We’ve already established that’s not true, or even if it is, who cares? It’s a common worry. All this is probably common with people with similar trauma. Just not talked about. So I’m talking about it. It’s legitimately okay and you can come back and delete this later if you get too nervous. I wish I had someone to talk to about this. I would never want to though.
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So, here’s what I’m going to do. Yes, I’m burying a post, don’t @ me.

I’m going to get a job I enjoy more, that won’t have managers that make me do tasks that interfere with my disabilities. Woot.

My unemployment ran out and I’m ready for that. I’m pumped to get back on track for my future. I’m worried I’m maybe not destined for the path I chose, but I’m going to try for it and see where I land. It’ll be okay.

I’m looking at library jobs. Also biology jobs still. If I turn out to be incompetent I’ll deal with that later. It’ll be fine.

I’m not going to worry about cats’ sanity right now. I have to make enough money to move out before I can worry about if a cat needs be to moved in with me or someone else. We’ll cross that bridge later, much later.

I’m going to wake up earlier and go to bed earlier. Might book a camping trip all alone, no phone (well, off phone) so I can recollect myself and very easily fix my sleeping schedule.

I’d just camp in the back yard but I need away from my mom. Goodness she drives me crazy. ?

Thank you @bellbird :hug: That means a lot.


In the mornings, I’ll do what Sietz was doing because that seemed to work — yoga. Also I’ll have nice breakfast, then take Nestle back on walks as her hip allows. (Uh, update, she’s having hip problems. I’ll tell you later.)

I’ll write. I’ll write like crazy.

And then I’ll do chores and other work. Resumes and cover letters included for a while there.


I’ve been not getting along great with my
mother, but I finally understand the problem. It was black and white thinking. I felt that if I called my mom abusive, I was calling her irredeemable and just like my dad. I thought I was suggesting it was ilegal to like or love her if I agreed that her behavior was harmful.

That’s obviously incorrect. There are no rules. And a consistent lack of respecting my boundaries is not a sign of a good friendship. Whether it’s abuse or not, it’s sure shitty.


I’m starting to wonder if I shouldn’t have posted that yet. Maybe I wasn’t ready. I don’t usually want to hide a post this hard.

That probably means I need to work on it. But it’s 2020. Not a great year for being particularly stable. I’ve never given myself enough alone time to think on it before. No wonder it’s bothering me so much. I’m hiding it inside so much that I can’t even handle seeing it on a page. Even after establishing that y’all won’t care. Or if you do it doesn’t matter. I understand that. And yet.


I can use this diary any way I want to, almost. I mean, it’s not my website, so technically that’s not entirely correct because I’m building a house on rented land. But. The work I’m doing is coming with me. And this right here, while a useless entry, is making me feel comfortable.

Is it over analyzing to suggest that my desire to get away from that post feels like me trying to avoid those intrusive thoughts? It’s probably exactly the same thing.


Oh! Some good news!!

I got my corn snake a new enclosure.

I’ve figured out Twitter, maybe.

My dog is doing much better. She can even still do her job, mostly.

I live under a roof.

I genuinely just forgot what I started this post to tell y’all. Something great happened though. ? I’m a bit sleep deprived.


Oh!!! I got some new toys at Goodwill. One isn’t designed for infants but it’s really cute.

And the office!!! It’s perfectly clean now!!! I have a clean room in my moms house!!

Every other room we (friend and I) cleaned has my mom’s shit on it again. Not my office though. That’s my space. :)