How the Johnny Depp trial got me thinking about (much smaller) things in my life…

This may be a bit of a long one. I’m going to start talking about the Johnny/Amber trial, which I know everyone is talking about for good reason – but the thing that pulled me out of my years of dormancy on my blog for this is how I’ve been self-assessing why it’s so impactful on me personally, so I’ll got into that at the end too.

For those who run across this and have zero idea who I am – well, honestly, I’m not really that important in the grand scheme of things so it largely doesn’t matter. But because I know some people will want to know some demographical information to get a quick glance at me as a person: I am an asexual lesbian woman. I could not possibly be less interested in men. I write LGBTQIA+ stories for the most part, and I am all about people being able to be true to themselves. It becomes too rambling to go further into that but just know that truth is incredibly important to me, and when I consider the concept of equality, it’s important to me that it’s equal for everyone, not just whichever demographic is convenient for an ulterior motive or agenda at the time.

Like many people, I’ve been following the Johnny Depp/Amber Heard defamation trial happening in Virginia. For future reference, at the point I’m writing this, week 3 has ended, Johnny finished his testimony, and people are saying Amber is going to go on the stand tomorrow or early next week.

I very much believe Johnny was the victim and Amber was the abuser. For full disclosure, I am absolutely disgusted not only with her being so abusive – but how on top of that she not only forced him into a situation where he was seen as the abuser (doing all the things to her that she actually did to him, when she wasn’t just lying entirely about situations like the sexual assault) but she also tried to destroy his life, and then on top of that went around in public speaking on behalf of abuse survivors.

I cannot overstate how abhorrent I find that. I’ve felt for decades now that it’s bullshit when people say they care about equality, but then they only apply the concept of equality when it’s convenient for them. Yes, women are absolutely victims of men in abuse. But also yes, men are absolutely victims of women in abuse. And the same goes for female/female, male/male, and any variation there within or outside of the cis-scope with nonbinary, trans, and all variations that exist now or in the future for gender identity, sexuality, just identity in general.

I’ve been quiet for so many years on so many things I’ve wanted to speak about, because it just feels exhausting to me. I’ve convinced myself that my voice doesn’t matter; that I have nothing of value to say that won’t be said by someone else – even as I know, objectively, that can’t possibly be true. We all have our own life experiences, and there are some aspects I’m in kind of a unique position about where it probably would be interesting for others to hear my take. But I silence myself nonetheless, again and again, because I just don’t have the emotional energy to deal with it all — to fight for my voice to be heard, to fight for it to be validated, as it feels like I’d have to do.

I wasn’t originally really aware of any of this trial. I knew nothing about Amber Heard years ago. Johnny Depp – I only really knew a couple things about him. Years into watching movies, I discovered that some of these very different characters I liked were all played by Johnny Depp. That may seem completely obtuse, but I’m not always the best with faces–and so many actors retain a certain set of mannerisms across their characters that once I know who plays one character, in all their other roles, regardless of the context of the character, some part of me in the back of my mind while watching is saying, “This is so-and-so playing this part.” It doesn’t at all mean they’re bad actors – far from it. And it doesn’t mean I can’t or don’t love the movie or story or characters or any of that – far from it. It’s just a thing on some level my brain acknowledges with little to no consequences other than just noticing it. Maybe it means I am a little more likely to remember their name when asked for what actor I like, because I remember they played x number of roles, because I was always in some form so aware it was them playing it.

Johnny is one of very few actors where I just did not connect across his movies for some time that it was the same actor. He did such a good job, in my mind, becoming the characters or roles that I didn’t have that thought going, “Oh, this is Johnny Depp playing this character” – I just thought of it as “This character is doing this thing right now.” When I eventually realized that several movies I liked, and characters I remembered clearly from them, all were the same actor — I had a moment of, “Wait, what??”

So, after that, I did consider him to be an actor I liked, but because he fell into roles so well, I pretty much never remembered to name him as an actor I liked because my brain just kind of forgets details or glosses over things and sometimes I forget connections I made.

Years ago, back when I still had cable TV and watched it regularly, I remember I watched some behind the actor-type show. I honestly remember very little about it, other than it was about Johnny Depp, it talked a little bit about his history but I don’t think much, it talked about his relationships – at the time he was with Winona still or had recently broken up? Maybe? dude I really don’t remember – and it showed him just doing whatever. I remember so little about the content of the show itself; but what I remember very clearly is I had a very good impression of him as a human being. He seemed gentle, kind, caring, and yeah, a bit eccentric/weird in ways – but everyone seemed to see him as a good soul. I also remember it coming up that he was a bit of a romantic–something about why he wasn’t rushing into marriage because he wanted marriage to be forever, and he didn’t want that pressure on the relationship. Because he’d been married before and tried proposing before and they didn’t last forever, and the romantic in him wanted it to. Something along those lines. More importantly, from what I observed in the video (and, knowing me at the time, probably extra research I did afterward to look up if the show was biased because he seemed so nice in it) – what I saw was a person, a human being, I genuinely liked, and felt especially would deserve the benefit of the doubt. Everyone does, but some people I give extra credence to because of their positive patterns of behavior.

When the Amber Heard allegations first came out, I don’t even know how soon I saw it. I just know at some point I was aware of it and I distinctly remember thinking, “Wow, that seems incredibly out of character for Johnny.” It didn’t make sense to me at all based on what I’d seen in that video, or the little I knew of him. But at the same time, of course that video could have been biased after all, although I truly didn’t believe it was; I truly believed that was who he was. So the next thought was that it was, of course, possible he had somehow massively changed as a person in the years since. That also seemed like way too huge of a change considering he’d been in the industry for years when I watched that video, meaning if he was really as terrible as he was being made to seem, I would’ve expected it to have come out beforehand through rumors/etc. And I remembered him being a romantic so much, or just something positive about the way he looked lovingly at relationships, that him being a domestic abuser was about literally the last thing I’d ever think to see. So it still seemed strange. My next thought was, “Well, this really just seems so unbelievable for Johnny, the little I know of him – but, if alcohol is involved, people can act completely differently when intoxicated than when not. Same with drugs.” I still thought it seemed weird, because I was pretty sure him drinking or using drugs wasn’t a brand new thing, and his previous partners all said he was a gentleman – but you never know how things can change in a person’s brain chemistry, so who knows.

My ultimate initial feeling was it seemed so incredibly bizarre to consider Johnny doing anything even close to any of this that, if it was indeed the truth, then the only explanation must be that he was incredibly mentally ill from his substance abuse, to the point that it had changed him into an entirely new human being when under the influence, and therefore he desperately needed help. I felt sad for him, because it seemed like such a long way to fall as a person from what I’d seen of him before.

So I felt like the allegations were confusing and surprising, but I didn’t have a strong thought either way on the veracity of them. My default reaction if someone claims abuse is to listen, and to look for the signs, and if I don’t see them or am unaware of them, then make no judgment because it doesn’t mean it did or did not occur – it simply means I have no way of knowing. Until proven otherwise, in a situation specifically like Amber/Johnny with my having some knowledge of Johnny and none at all of Amber, I felt sad for both sides because toxic and abusive relationships aren’t good for anyone.

But I didn’t otherwise know what to think. I assumed Amber was probably telling the truth because who just comes out and lies about that in that manner? But if she was telling the truth, something had to be very wrong with Johnny where he needed help (instead of or in addition to condemnation, depending on the details) – so it was then very sad for both of them. And upsetting. And she of course would understandably be upset and, if she was being hurt, getting out of the relationship was very good for her.

At the same time, some part of me was also thinking about how male victims of domestic violence, especially by a woman, are rarely believed or even listened to – so some part in the back of my mind wondered if possibly there was more to the story? That would maybe track more with what I knew of Johnny? But I didn’t know and I didn’t research because other stuff was going on in my life, and I couldn’t do anything about any of it. I liked Johnny as an actor, had an impression of him as a good person from that video, but I was distracted by other things going on personally and just didn’t follow any of it, as I didn’t follow any other celebrity stuff that may have been happening at the time. The only reason I noticed that at all was solely because I knew I liked Johnny, so I noticed when accusations were said against him; otherwise I wouldn’t have even noticed that much.

I didn’t pay a lot of attention to the news, especially celebrity news or tabloids, for years. Well, I still don’t, and never really have actually. So I didn’t know about all the stuff being said about him here and there; I vaguely knew of some things, still thought it seemed so weird compared to how he had been, but it just further made me think he must be incredibly ill then and someone seriously needs to intervene and help. I didn’t see any of the stuff with Amber being a spokeswoman for ACLU, with her being with the MeToo movement, I don’t think I even saw anything about the sexual assault allegations. Not that I recall anyway. I mostly only vaguely knew about Johnny things because of movies – people wanting to kick him from the Fantastic Beasts enterprise, maybe a whisper here or there about Pirates, things like that. I remember people talking about the dog/Australia apology video, and how it looked like they were being held hostage, and people were saying it was further proof that Johnny was abusing Amber because of how awkward it looked or something. I do recall seeing at least part of that video – and by that point I was just assuming maybe I’d been wrong about Johnny – or maybe he was just that sick.

I’m always not only willing – but in some ways, often looking for excuses – to believe I’m wrong about something, no matter what I feel about it. I always think that it’s my fault for not doing more research, my fault for not knowing more, my fault for everything. So I try not to make hardline decisions or opinions on things unless I have reason to know for an absolute fact what exactly did and did not happen, why and when and how, and all other variations of information I can collect. But that’s an almost impossible standard to meet – and even then, if someone were to come to me with additional information I hadn’t been aware of previously, I’ll listen to it or try my best to do so, and I’ll take it into consideration, and that may result in me completely flipping my opinion 180 if I determine some fundamental part of my previous opinion or decision was flawed or uninformed.

It’s just…. natural to me to assume there’s always something else out there with more information that may change my mind, so I try to be fair if possible in my reactions to things. Obviously there are times I have emotional reactions to things, times my frustration or impatience or temper or whatever gets ahead of my mouth, and I rant or vent about something as if I had all the information, or as if the information I have must be 100% correct even if I don’t know for certain it is. But once that rush of emotion passes, I always try to reflect on it, and keep an open mind to future information, and really question myself about if what I thought or said was truly fair, or if I was being biased and unfair in my emotional state. I typically try to verbally address that bias or reflection at the time or later, but there are times it’s just not possible or it’s so awkward to bring up later that I get my anxiety going about what is more damaging to the other person — letting lie that not-fully-correct-or-fair thing I said whatever time period ago?, or letting it slide so I’m not bringing it up again and potentially upsetting them way later?

Even my own life…. I feel like I’m not an expert on myself or my life, because what I perceive of myself or my actions will never be the full story. Surely, it’s as important or more important to know how I affect others around me? So if asked to explain who I am as a human being, I can talk about my values or what I try to do or tend to do, but I am always worried that maybe I’m wrong, maybe I’m delusional even when I know I’m not – maybe, maybe, maybe, all the way down the whirlpool into silencing myself once again. Just in case I say or do something wrong. Just in case I hurt someone. Even by just being me.

That kind of thought process featured heavily in why I felt like I wasn’t sure exactly what happened, and I doubted my own impressions because 1) objectively it is very possible and even plausible that what I’d seen or heard to give me a good impression was just due to good PR, and 2) even if what I’d seen/understood was 100% correct, that still didn’t mean there couldn’t be circumstances in which the person I “knew of” even vaguely was not the same person behind closed doors.

So I don’t think I commented on any of this at any point, publicly or possibly even privately very much.

At some point along the way I ran across a video on YouTube mentioning some information about Amber/Johnny, and I vaguely recall it had some audio clips with Amber and Johnny maybe, or maybe it was talking about her prior domestic violence arrest, or something. [In retrospect I assume it was Incredibly Average but maybe not] Whatever it was, it made me think even more that the entire story seemed pretty surprising and confusing, and so more and more I was thinking about how men aren’t believed or listened to in cases where they’re the victim of violence, especially by a woman, and it made me wonder more and more – what is the full story? Is this really all there is or is there more?

I didn’t know anything about the UK trial, the divorce stuff, the donation declaration, even the upcoming US trial — none of it. If I knew, I definitely forgot because this all kind of came out of nowhere for me.

I don’t even remember what got me into watching some of the coverage recently – I think one of the true crime channels I follow on YouTube mentioned it, or maybe YouTube recommended me a video. Whatever the case, in the past few weeks, I have become very educated on this case – but more importantly, the history of everything leading up to it, and now even the sheer insanity going on behind the scenes with the level of money, power, influence, and just overall weight that Johnny has to fight against for his voice to be heard – and to be heard fairly. Every time I think things can’t get any crazier, they do. In incredibly shocking ways. The UK trial alone is absolutely crazy to learn more about in the background – the connections between the judge and Amber’s team, to the point that I cannot for the life of me fathom how the judge wasn’t disallowed from presiding over the case for the sheer level of conflict of interest alone.

What at first seemed to be a really sad and frankly shitty case of a woman abusing her husband and then blaming him for abusing her, has turned into something with ties and connections to so many big names and companies and connections that it’s insane. Let’s put it this way: 2 of the people who have previously backed Amber are some of the most powerful, wealthy, and/or influential people in the world. And that’s not even the end of it. There are mega powerful organizations who appear to have colluded with Amber in order to destroy Johnny simply so they can move forward their own agenda. With the level of power and influence she’s had behind her, it’s no wonder he’s been absolutely buried. It’s no wonder he feels like he’s all but lost his life. And it’s no wonder he had to wait so long, fight so long, just to be heard in any sort of a somewhat objective manner – to even just tell his side.

I normally would have thought someone was being a bit conspiratorial or dramatic if they tried to say this trial has so far-reaching of implications. I would have thought it was hyperbolic to suggest that this story is more than a very sad and upsetting case of violence in a relationship. But it turns out from everything I’ve seen/heard (and fully believe, especially after extra research beyond the trial) – everything shown about how the violence against Johnny physically, verbally, and mentally, was so much worse than I had ever imagined…. and now, even that level of abuse turns out to only one part of the story.

It’s already awful and horrible and just fucking disgusting what happened to Johnny in his relationship, and how he was made to feel voiceless afterward. But then on top of that for Amber to coopt movements supporting and representing real victims/survivors when she in fact is the fucking abusive person– I cannot overstate how much I loathe that. I absolutely fucking hate people who falsely claim something for personal benefit, especially when it deals with any sort of real-life serious, very important topic like abuse, assault – and, she isn’t doing this but other people do this in totally different cases: mental illnesses, everything.

I try to remain compassionate and sympathetic to people. Even if something or someone manages to push me to a point where I am beyond myself with anger or disgust toward it/them, I still try to always step back when I can and assess my reaction. How much of it is objectively fair, and how much of it is informed by my own bias or sympathies?

In Amber’s case, just solely looking at her as a human being, I feel bad for her that her mind is in such a state of uproar, and her life experiences had such power, that she lives the way she does; that she has to experience life this way; and that she therefore does such irrational things yet believes them to be rational. It’s very sad to think about being so messed up mentally but not only not being able to see it, but even believing yourself to be fully in the right – because inevitably, that will push people away, and if a greatest fear of hers is to lose people, it’s very sad that her own mind has turned her into the enemy of her actual dream or goal.

That’s very sad to me, including in terms of how difficult this all must be for her to sit through this silently, listening to people point out all the awful things she did or said. I can have empathy for that. That would be difficult for any human being, and if she’s so sick she doesn’t even realize she’s sick, that’s just sad.

However, what she’s feeling now sitting in court listening to these things a few hours a day? Johnny had to live with that for literal years, from every single angle possible, while losing everything in his life as a result. That would be hell. And the biggest difference between Johnny and Amber is that what everyone is pointing out about Amber is the truth of her, therefore exposing all her lies and manipulations; but what Johnny dealt with for years were not only lies, but in some cases his own fucking abuse story coopted and weaponized against him by his abuser.

Think about that for a second.

Think about being violated by someone you loved, someone you trusted, and then not only having to deal with that (especially as a man, who societally are told they’re not allowed to be victims or have emotions) – not only that, but then having the person who violated you run around publicly taking your survivor story and twisting details of it so the violator is the violated. So the pain and injuries and abuse you lived through for years, not only now need to be figured out mentally which is in itself a huge prospect – but now, your own pain, injuries, and abuse, are being accused against you. That bruise you sustained from being hit by someone you love? The one your loved one was already gaslighting you into believing was your fault? Now, to the public eye, not only does it not exist on you, not only does your abuse mean nothing to the point that it never happened – but also now there’s suddenly a bruise on your abuser, who says you gave it to them; who says you are the aggressor. And now you, the victim, are being called all the things you wished you could call your abuser. You can’t tell people you’re abused because no one would have believed you from the start, you feel – but especially now with the full weight of society and powerful people and entities against you, you especially can’t speak because people will use your pain against you like your former loved one did. They will tell you not only it didn’t exist, but you’re disgusting for suggesting it did, and everything that happened and is happening to you is completely your fault. You deserve every awful thing you ever get. You may as well die.

It’s gaslighting on top of gaslighting on top of cruel and malicious manipulation for, ultimately, no reason whatsoever other than someone’s hubris, mental instability, possessiveness, and unjustified resentment or rage. It is the ultimate abuse by the abuser. A way to not only make you feel voiceless as you were before, but actually make you globally voiceless as well.

If you haven’t been following this as closely – or you have but you’ve mostly just seen the trial, know of the things going on there, and don’t know some of the things I’m referencing from the past – then I recommend you check out a few channels. You’re going to see some of the channels were badmouthed on social media recently by Amber Heard supporters, but it is my current belief (based on all the evidence I have seen, watched, heard) that those accusations at least in the course of this specific topic of Johnny Depp’s situation – are nothing more than further manipulation, gaslighting, and in some cases outright lies. I have to imagine that some of Amber’s supporters are doing so in a way where they genuinely believe in Amber; they aren’t trying to use this situation to further their own agendas, and therefore are cherry-picking what they can from Amber to try to drown out any dissenting voices. Rather, they are just trying to help in a situation that they see as very clearly one direction – and in that direction, yes, it would be understandable to want to help. But my personal view is those who feel that way are simply unaware of a lot of the background information that has piled up over the years, and can be seen unedited, researched, and heavily documented or connected online.

I have not seen everything on these channels about Johnny’s case – and have only watched recent things for the most part (last year or two primarily). I don’t know anything about what may or may not be on the channels in the past; I know a little bit about the people themselves but not a ton. So do keep in mind that, while I believe the information being presented because it fits so perfectly with everything else, if you need to do extra research of course you should do so. I know that I am always willing to change my mind on something when I get new information, so I personally think these are very likely reliable sources because I have seen information mentioned across multiple sources which corroborate each other, and I know I didn’t go into this blindly believing one way or another. But you of course should always be critical when watching new information, and see if you believe it does or does not fit; if it is true, not true, or nuanced; and any other assessment. And, of course, should more information come out in the future I’m unaware of now that drastically affects the credibility of their information, I will take that into account. But given that a lot of their evidence I’ve seen are surveillance videos, court documents, and more – generally, I feel it is reliable. These are, however, please note – Johnny support channels. I don’t think that discounts their evidence at all; after watching videos and the like with them, I find them believable. But I will mentioned that from the start just for context and transparency.

All of these channels have been following Johnny’s situation for years, some longer than others. They championed Johnny’s side even when it was unpopular, because they believed in it so strongly.

ThatUmbrellaGuy: https://www.youtube.com/c/ThatUmbrellaGuy – has extra information I don’t see elsewhere, references some really interesting connections and background information or stories or evidence in his videos and livestreams. This is the best channel to go to for in depth information overviewed and tied together. He also seems to have some sort of semi-direct link to information from Johnny’s side that no one else has or breaks in the same way. **Note from the future, 5/21/2022 (between day 19 and 20)–I’d been watching TUG as a main source of information as the trial went on, and watched a lot of his other videos. I especially recommend him now. But also, he’s the one who ended up being named in the trial itself as having Adam Waldman as a connection, so turns out my belief that his sources were legit was actually correct.**

Incredibly Average: https://www.youtube.com/channel/UCg0C-N_MPYYOXyF4T3jMxNQ – This is probably(?) the place I saw a YouTube video forever ago with audio clips or something. Brian from Incredibly Average has been doing this for I think possibly longer than anyone, and he provides tons and tons of reconstructive information, he is the one who first released all those audio clips and did the bars of text with profiles on the screen transcribing conversations that we now see all over the internet. He painstakingly reconstructed the full layout of the ECB based on multiple partial blueprints and created a high quality one of his own in order to track the various stories of the various people living in the penthouses. **Future note: he was also named in the Adam Waldman part of the trial, as ThatBrianFella**

Popcorned Planet: https://www.youtube.com/c/PopcornedPlanet – background information, interviews, recaps, etc. Guests have included exclusive interviews, including one recently from a neighbor in the ECB who personally met Johnny and Amber and others; as well as ongoing guests representing legal, psychological, and other views. ((I will note that I don’t love his presentation style as much as the others – he has a lot of guests and there can be some accidental speaking over of them and etc that can feel a little off-putting at times for me personally, plus the fact that there are multiple people on screen at once with such a busy background image can sometimes feel a little bit stressful or chaotic – but he has interesting info that should definitely be checked out if you’re interested in this topic, and he absolutely means well and has knowledge))

Colonel Kurtz: https://www.youtube.com/channel/UCAxriNBFZQPTsj9vBOSnhkA – looks more at the psychological side of things, and as a layperson has been assessing her feelings of the trial. She sometimes talks to a lawyer too. One thing I found really interesting is that in 2021 she was looking at Amber’s friends on social media, giving historical context of their lives, and how that may affect how they interact with Amber and why they are friends, and what that would mean for the trial.

There’s just an absolutely insane amount of information about things going on in the background in the past and currently, that even though I thought about putting some of the key pieces here in this post, it just feels overwhelming and impossible.

**Note from the future: seriously, go to TUG/ ThatUmbrellaGuy’s channel to get tons more info about what’s been going on in the background all along. And if you’ve never watched Incredibly Average’s videos, you should. You will definitely recognize some of the same source material as is presented in trial.

Also, I now know that the AH supporters have been doing way tf sketchier stuff than I initially thought, and that there’s just a huge amount of things going on behind the scenes in the past, in the present, likely in the future…. I now know there are even things like an open FBI investigation into witness intimidation (of Johnny’s witnesses, seemingly on AH’s side), and more things I can’t even remember right now. TUG will have all the info on his channel if you want it — and if somehow he doesn’t, check the other channels I mentioned.

Lastly, I’ve now seen Amber’s testimony, the cross-examination, the redirect, her witnesses… all of that. I’ve seen even more evidence backing up what I’d felt earlier about Johnny being the victim of her abuse, and her not only outright lying to the media, but now also constantly perjuring herself in this court and other courts — and even making others do the same. Right now, I don’t have the fiery frustration in my heart talking about this, so I will say this: she’s very, very ill, and she needs an absolutely insane level of help. I want to feel sympathy or empathy for her because even for someone not as ill as she is, this would all be difficult to go through.

But I can’t feel that for her very much, if even at all, because she did all of this to herself. Every single step of the way, over and over and over again, she had so many chances to make a different choice, to make a better choice, to change her narrative, to not do such monstrous things. Every single step, she could have at least shown some level of regret, or self-awareness, or even just a hint of indication that maybe she was struggling against it internally and her brain chemistry was making her do this but she was trying, maybe, even a tiny bit, to stop it.

But I don’t see that in any step of the way, in any form, on any level. I see malicious actions every second, manipulation from before the beginning of their relationship, and even in her past relationships she had abusive behavior. She lied back then too; intimidated those around her, made false claims that the reasons things were happening was because other people were -phobic/-ist instead of acknowledging that other people were simply telling the truth, and she didn’t like that her “truth” didn’t match reality and their truth, so she decided to attack and blame and cause pain and injury and havoc rather than take responsibility for ANYTHING of herself. Not her actions, not her words, nothing.

And even taking into account her childhood wasn’t great — well, neither was Johnny’s, and he didn’t turn out like her. Or, even more closely — neither was her sister Whitney’s, and Whitney not only didn’t turn out like her, but she also grew up to continually be abused by Amber to the point that I truly believe she’s scared of her, and she’s being manipulated into doing what Amber tells her to do because Amber is too volatile and dangerous to cross.

It’s sad to have to say, but at this point I have a difficult time seeing Amber as a victim of anything — even things back in her childhood she probably was a victim of — because she has lied, manipulated, abused, and gaslit so much that I just can’t take anything she claims as being credible anymore. I am trying to continually push back against that natural reaction, in her childhood primarily, because I know part of that is my frustration and disgust over this entire thing as I mentioned way before. And because I have huge amounts of empathy and sympathy for Johnny, who didn’t deserve any of this. If Amber had wanted to go scorched Earth on someone in Hollywood, surely there were people who actually had skeletons in their closets that may have turned Amber into some sort of karmic retribution for their actions–at least then maybe, despite how awful she was being, she would have been doing something that person deserved on some level to receive. But she didn’t choose a person like that. She chose Johnny. So even that caveat of karmic retribution not only is not accurate, it’s even worse because his karma should have been something good and kind and loving and generous coming back to him. On the other hand, now that I think about it — maybe it did, in the end. She can’t get anyone to show at court for her other than two people who are clearly compromised, while he has people going back decades willing to speak up for him publicly and even in court under penalty of law. Because they are telling the truth, and ultimately the truth always wins out. At least, I like to think so.**

+ + +

So, here’s where we pivot a little. Originally, I thought this would be longer part of this post, but maybe it won’t be after all.

As I’ve found myself spending hours watching straight court footage of the trial, highlights and recaps, assessments and reviews, and older videos with further evidentiary information of note – I couldn’t help wondering why I was so invested in this. Obviously I would care because of the topic and how it touches not only on my frustration of the inequality of listening to or believing victims of different demographics, but also how it was allowing me to challenge my impression of Johnny from years ago and see if I’d been right, wrong, or somewhere in the middle. Obviously, the hypocrisy would have been maddening to me from what she has done to what she has said and even beyond her, all the other hypocrisy built into this from so many organizations or people connected to it directly or indirectly. Obviously, I would care about the genuine truth getting out there no matter what it was.

Obviously, so many things.

It would make sense for me to keep up on it here and there; to spend some time researching; to keep track of the case and the conclusion. But although I watch a lot of true crime on my off time, and have watched full or very long snippets of interrogations or court cases – this is not the sort of thing I would have ever predicted myself to be following so closely, on so many angles, and for which to feel so emotionally invested.

There are many reasons many of us find ourselves in this position, and I’m sure my reasons are similar to others.

But there was something that was just tugging at me, that was bothering me that I hadn’t identified.

My life could pretty much not possibly be more different from Johnny’s, so why was I identifying so much with him? I do tend to be empathetic, so, sure, that would be part of it – but there was something else. Something far deeper, pulling closer to my heart or soul in a way I didn’t initially understand.

But when we finally were able to see Johnny himself testify; when I got more and more information about what was happening in the background, when I saw the way Amber treated Johnny privately vs publicly, or maybe more accurately the ongoing gaslighting, and the feeling that the world is stacked against you if you try to say anything…. when I saw how eventually Johnny just stopped pushing back on some topics because he knew there was no point… when I saw it seemed like it didn’t matter how long you tried to be a good person or were a good person; people immediately are willing to flip or consider flipping if it’s popular at the time… that’s when I realized.

I think, even though Johnny and I are so different, especially since he’s had to endure so much physical abuse his whole life that I’ve never dealt with — when I saw him on the stand, trying to find his words to explain why this hit him so deeply, how it affected him, and seeing how long it took him to be able to feel like he had the ability to speak publicly about anything, and be believed… I think I saw a bit of myself in that.

No, I don’t “think.” I know.

The circumstances are wildly different, and I want to be very clear that what happened to Johnny is billions and billions of times worse than anything that happened with me — but I just. I get it. I fucking get it.

I get how it feels so stressful and confusing to have spent your life trying your best to be thoughtful, kind, caring, nice – or at least doing your best not to be someone who makes everything worse… and then out of nowhere, it seems, something happens that threatens that entire view of you publicly. Not because of your actions, but because of someone else’s–someone close enough to you that it has the ability to shadow you as well. I was very lucky, where Johnny was not. My situation was hugely different to his situation– But still, I get it.

I get how confusing it is to have met a person you thought you knew, you cared about and who cared about you; someone you trusted completely who you believed trusted you… and then over time, they change, and change, until they are nothing at all like the person you first met, you thought you knew, you were loyal to and believed in. I get how you can try working with them, thinking they’re just having a period of time where they’re like this, that things will change, that they’ll be who you knew, or they’re still that person but they’re just having difficulties right now and rather than make things worse, it’s better to just try to be yourself as much as possible while trying to support them becoming again who you believed them to be. I get starting a relationship of some sort seeing everything from one perspective, then at the end of it seeing that your entire world has changed around because of them, and where you ended is nowhere near where you began.

I get (to a far, far less extent) how a very public lie of someone you trusted could feel like such a blow, and how it could rearrange the way you interact with the world.

I get how it feels to be a person who tries to do their best for so long – and then because of this person you’re associated with, because of the things they do or say – or don’t do or say, as importantly, in a lot of cases – how it feels to realize your integrity, the things you believe in so strongly your whole life or for decades, is now called into question because of that person.

Johnny was fully branded the person he was not. Again, I am not saying my situation is ANYWHERE near his. It isn’t. But there are enough parallels that I feel this just–fucking deep empathy, and stress and a bit of catharsis, in seeing him be able to speak.

In some way, it feels like he’s saying things I’ve wanted to say before, but just silenced myself instead. It kind of feels like he gave me back my voice – to the extent that I’m even writing this now, after years of not posting anything on this blog.

There are so many things he mentions or has been implied or referenced as to his feelings at different times that also reflect how I felt at times as well, that it feels kind of uncanny.

In 2018, while Johnny had been dealing for years with allegations, and then was hit even harder with the op-ed that drove this entire case to be… that was the year I learned that my friend, and a co-author of a book series, someone I’d known for something like 15 years online — didn’t exist. I learned that the person I’d spoken to on the phone, the person I’d wrote stories with, I’d traded countless emails with, I’d talked endlessly to on instant messages and whose family I’d even spoken to on DMs as well – didn’t exist, and neither did the family member I talked to. I learned that for all those years, that person had been lying to me – or rather, the people who were behind the person had been lying to me. And not just me–everyone. The world. I honestly have to wonder if also they lied to themselves.

I still don’t fully know the reason, although I have some theories. I also don’t know if any sort of mental health situation was involved, although it feels like surely one has to have been for the dedication involved over so many years. Even privately, to such an extent as to even create and impersonate other human beings to back up the claimed story.

On top of that, I also learned that the person was being manipulative, in some cases abusive, to others. That more had been happening behind the scenes than I’d realized, and people were being hurt without me realizing it.

I learned, for the first time, what gaslighting meant, and learned it applied to my experience.

And although I still find it hard to fully objectively assess, because my natural reaction to anything is to ignore or downplay things done toward me and just try instead to put myself in others’ shoes and be as compassionate or willing to understand as possible… I think it’s possibly, maybe, potentially fair to say I experienced…

+ +

I got to this point and asked someone if they thought even mentioning that I felt I related in even the tiniest bit was fair or unfair, and they said I could fairly say I related to specific aspects of it. They mentioned something about their view so far of Johnny, just in passing. This is IN NO WAY saying anything against them – I very much appreciate this person; they’re absolutely awesome. I just thought it was super interesting on my side, the way my brain works – because I was feeling so confident writing this post until I paused to check on the aspect of how to word my experience or how I could fairly view it, and just that one side comment made me lose all energy for writing this. It felt, between one second and the next, that this was all worth me saying at the very least for referencing how these topics being brought to light can be relatable to others even in vastly different circumstances – to suddenly feeling like I have to stop, I can’t finish this, I need to save the draft and walk away rather than finish, and absolutely definitely not post, because I’m not confident in my voice, I’m just–I don’t ever want to hurt anyone, and I’ve become frozen in place over the years but especially since that person, by feeling like anything I say, anything I do, has the potential to have unintended consequences. I feel like I shouldn’t speak, I should never speak, because that’s the only way to ensure I never hurt anyone. I feel like I shouldn’t have a voice, that I just. Should continue to disappear into the shadows and not exist.

This is NOT AT ALL EVEN THE TINIEST BIT what this person I was talking to was intending IN ANY WAY for my reaction to be. Quite the opposite, in fact–they thought it was good for me to say something. So this is absolutely nothing about what they said.

I mention it only because I think it shows how quickly the weather in my mind changes; from sunny day to stormy night–from clarity and warmth and confidence, to uncertainty, and only vague glimpses of understanding of the world around me through the melody of lightning, flickering in the darkness to what feels like an unpredictable and, at times, frenetic beat.

It’s fully indicative of how I am internally. How my feelings can change quickly in my confidence. How long it takes me to work up the confidence or energy to write anything I’m feeling or thinking – and how quickly it can be quashed by my own shift of mind or heart.

I feel like I don’t know anymore what is right, what is wrong, what is true, what is false. What I am feeling, what I am thinking, if it’s objectively fair, if it’s unjust, if I have the right to speak up for myself, or if in speaking for myself I do a disservice to everyone around me by crowding the internet with my meaningless, unimportant, invisible words and feelings when others could be using that space so much more importantly and effectively.

I silence myself because of that, and I feel like surely that has to be fair to the world at large to do so, but then I also see people having no qualms spreading their voice, even if the content of their message is unfair, unkind, unjust, hurtful, misrepresentative, or more. They have the confidence to yell from the rooftops whatever they think or feel in that moment, and they don’t regret it. But I can’t even bring myself to finish a single blog post since 2019 even referencing at all something from 2018. Years of having time to think about things, to work on myself mentally and physically to some extent; years of health changes, more life experiences, expanded viewpoints on some aspects, and the full expectation to continue to grow and shift and change into the future as I learn more information, as I see more perspectives. Years of what should lead to some minor level of confidence to even just speak about small things, and yet I can’t.

I can’t.

I start second-guessing myself. Am I fair in how I feel? Am I not? What if I’m wrong about everything? What if somehow I’m the bad guy all along? What if what I feel or think hurts someone? What if I unintentionally interrupt someone else’s process of coping or understanding themselves or more? What if I destroy someone’s life because I say what I think, just by saying anything about how I felt and feel? What if I’m doing a huge disservice to the world at large by even contemplating trying to not be invisible? What if what I think I believe or know to be fact isn’t at all, can’t be, because I once believed and knew for a fact a close friend existed, that their family and life did too–but I was wrong? I was wrong.

How do I assess the negative impact of myself on the world when I can’t even assess the impact of the world on my life?

I don’t know.

I don’t know.

All I know is, as always, I’m going to mostly finish a post, but then silence myself. I’m going to save this as a draft, and walk away. Until I know if saying anything is making it better or worse for others.

Because, ultimately, I no longer believe in myself.

+ +

When I think on it further, I think I doubt myself, my view, my thoughts, my voice, because I know how quickly public opinion shifts so severely. It makes me worry about having to be 100% right in anything I want to say to make sure I can stand by my word when the public inevitably shifts and therefore perhaps the view on anything I reference does too. It’s not that I necessarily care what others think; it’s that I care that I know I’m able to be as honest and genuine as I possibly can be. And if, in my honesty at the moment, I say something that later, after public views of any reference topic shift dramatically (whether fairly or unfairly), becomes something that is harmful to others or slows down their own journeys…..

I can’t. I can’t do that to others. I can’t hurt them that way.

But then, am I hurting myself in an attempt to not possibly, potentially, conceivably, maybe hurt someone else in some form large or small, direct or indirect, at some point in the nebulous future?

I don’t know.

I don’t know.

I just, feel like I never know anything anymore.

-5/1/2022 1:08 pm

+ +

5/21/2022, 12:20 pm:

I don’t know exactly why I came back to this post now, 20 days later. Why I felt it was okay to do.

I think maybe part of it is that in the time in between, as I mentioned in my notes earlier, I learned and saw more and more to feel like my feelings were justified; my impression was verified; that objectively, it’s fairer to believe I was being objective to some extent even with my bias, than it is to believe I have to be wrong. Because in the process of saying I have to stay quiet because I’m not right, I would be calling so many other people in the world liars for saying and feeling the same way I do. And I don’t think they are liars. I know they aren’t. So why should I give them a label or validity I’m unwilling to give to myself? In worrying about being fair to others, in a case like this with so much external validation and so much evidence that backs it all up, I have to acknowledge that I should also work to be fair to myself.

I think we all should.

So, now, 20 days later, I will try to finish the thought I stopped myself from finishing before:

+ +

I don’t know what the right word is for anything related to my experiences. I feel like I can’t really assess any of this properly, so I will not bother with labeling it, because the label itself doesn’t actually matter. Not for this post, or probably in general. And I hate the idea of saying something that’s untrue; I want to be as honest and accurate as possible, and I just don’t want to say the wrong thing.

Instead, what I’ll say is this: I don’t remember if I had any sort of strong suicidal ideations prior to meeting the person, and given my personality I probably would have ended up feeling that way eventually at points regardless of knowing them. But I think some of the points in my life where I felt it so strongly I made plans, I was researching, I was staying quiet so no one would know because if people knew it would be an inconvenience since they could stop me… I think the intensity of those points were influenced by my relationship with the person (or people, I guess) in question.

And it’s also fair to say that my way of interacting online changed drastically afterward and even along the way during our partnership, as a result of them.

In many ways, I’m not the same person I was before I met them. I think that’s for the better in some aspects, and I am positive I would have changed along the way in some ways regardless because that’s life; that’s growing up and living. But a lot of the negative effects definitely existed–and still do to this day. And I don’t know if the changes I would have had would be the same as happened.

I was always someone who was willing to silence myself if I thought it would help others, but I think in some ways I had more confidence back then, before meeting them. I was young, of course, so that will be a part of it. I had a lot of other things going on internally–believing I wouldn’t live past 18 and being perplexed about what to do when I did; things like that.

I feel like somewhere along the way I started gaining some confidence in my voice, though. I feel like I was becoming more willing to give myself the benefit of the doubt, or to try to be fairer to myself than I had been. I was able to complete projects because someone was there keeping me on track; I started thinking maybe my impressions of the world didn’t always have to immediately be dismissed, because I felt like the person was backing me up at times. Telling me it was okay to feel how I felt. That it was okay to be me.

I’d been very strongly of the opinion that people can and should be themselves–that it’s ok to be different. I was pretty fervently in that boat in some regards already before meeting them; things like alcohol or drugs, which I didn’t drink/use even when everyone around me did; things like being interested in things I was interested in regardless of whether it was popular. Things like changing my entire diet from a young age in a setting that was not super conducive to it at the time, being the only person in my immediately family to do so, and continuing even when so many people around me dismissed it as a phase.

But I doubted myself; the validity of the meaning of my existence, or if my feelings or impressions were fair; if, if, if. Was I making the world worse by existing?, I wondered, or was it okay to live? Could I exist without inherently hurting everyone around me, and if that was the only way, was it fair to continue living when all I was doing was damage to people who didn’t deserve it? To a world that didn’t deserve it, and could use its resources on someone far more valuable and meaningful than me, the asshole who was wasting it?

That person listened to me when I felt safer saying some things online that I hadn’t been able to form verbally– in person or even on the phone.

In some ways, that person gave me a lot of confidence.

In many ways, that person later stole all the confidence I’d gained, and took even more to leave me back in a semi-constant state of doubt.

It probably ultimately doesn’t matter, any of this. This vague overview of my thoughts probably isn’t helpful to anyone else.

But I think it’s important to note that even thinking that, because of this trial, because of the additional 20 days of information, I’m feeling like it’s ok to say any of this even if it doesn’t directly serve to help anyone. I don’t have to identify and verify and justify the value of my thoughts just to say them to someone else publicly. It’s okay to just say something, to explain my perspective, and leave it at that.

Every time I write long posts like this lately, I get so tired. I get 3/4 through the post or thoughts and I feel exhausted; I start feeling like I could fall asleep sitting up; my eyes grow heavy and I yawn and want to lie down. It doesn’t make any sense why that happens. I don’t understand it. It’s not because I’m bored–it’s like, the energy and oxygen just slowly seeps from my body without me noticing, until I am left feeling scoured of the motivation I felt at the start, and instead I just want to sleep. Not out of sadness, anger, anything. I just. Every time end up wanting to sleep.

Maybe it’s a relaxation thing? Maybe it’s a stress thing? Maybe it’s whatever it is.

I guess it doesn’t matter in the end.

Normally at this point I would save the draft so I could read it again another time – make sure it makes sense, make sure I feel like it’s okay to post it, make sure make sure make sure. Especially since I get so suddenly so exhausted I can barely keep my eyes open sitting up, I wonder if anything I’m writing makes sense anymore. I probably spaced out. I’m probably tired. I may be wrong with things I’m saying or thinking or anything, because that self-doubt and self-criticism is always there, ready to gain prominence if I let it.

Whatever you think of the trial, or the people involved — whether you are following it or not– I hope you work to be fair to yourself, I hope you take care of yourself, and I hope you’re doing well. You are a human being and you matter. And if you’re dealing with something traumatic like any of the things they’ve been discussing in the courtroom, then I not only am so sorry to hear that and wish it weren’t the case for you, but I also truly hope you are able to get the help you need and deserve. I hope someone is there letting you know it’s okay to be you, it’s okay to feel what you feel, and it’s not only okay but even wonderful to seek help.

You matter. You are worth it. You are valuable. You are beautiful.

Take care of yourself, please.

Seriously considering doing an assessment or walk-in to a program that helps with eating disorders. I no longer need help getting anorexia under control in terms of starving myself, but now I’ve run into the problem of not knowing how to safely lose weight to feel healthier and happier, without resorting to the means I used before, and without letting myself go beyond an actually healthy level.

I’ve only gotten professional help one time, and even then it wasn’t actually about the ED. I was talking about other things but realized in that session that maybe I did have a problem. But that was a very brief experience in college, and after that I dealt with everything completely alone. Part of me thinks I would fail if I asked for help, but the larger part of me knows it shows more strength to know when you need help and ask for it than it does to isolate yourself unnecessarily.

This is the reason I post about things like this on and off, because publicly saying I might do a thing makes me more likely to do it or at least not just pass it off immediately in my mind. And there may be other people who read this who are going through the same thoughts, and seeing this may not feel alone.

To The Bone, and thoughts on anorexia

I just watched To The Bone… it’s a Netflix original movie about a group of people with eating disorders, especially anorexia because that’s what the main character has.

I remember hearing about this before it came out–people saying they thought it would be triggering and/or glamorize EDs, especially anorexia. For me, it wasn’t triggering at all. I didn’t think it glamorized it at all. It just told the story from a perspective rarely seen, in a snippet often glossed over in narratives.

For me, if I had any issues with it at all, it’s one part I can’t reference without a spoiler, but that is more of asexual me responding than anything, and the only other “issue” I would have is I wish it were longer. I would like to see a sequel to this, although I doubt they will make it.

Personally, I didn’t have any issues at all with the ED part of it. I thought overall the movie was quite funny in parts, sad in others, awkward where it was supposed to be awkward, hopeful in other aspects. Just like life. It wasn’t as tectonically moving as I expected it to be for me, but that isn’t because of a failure on the part of the movie.

Actually, I think it’s a good thing. I think this shows that I’ve come a long way since the last time I watched an anorexia-themed movie or show. I think the fact that it didn’t dig emotional claws into me deeper than would any other movie, shows I’ve learned to tell the voice to fuck off, as Dr Beckman says to do in the movie, and it shows that I’ve come far enough that I can watch something like this and see it as the story it is first and foremost, instead of everything bouncing all around my brain worrying about everything else.

I’m not sure if the way I explained that makes any sense…

But then, maybe a reason it doesn’t affect me as strongly is because I never went through therapy or got any sort of help for my issues. And the movie is set almost entirely during therapy. I liked the story a lot, though. I felt like they didn’t try to glamorize or dramatize anything, really. The main character’s story feels like something that could actually happen right now in real life, and I like that.

I still need to release the bits and pieces I’ve written so far about my own struggles with anorexia. I have some parts written. I keep thinking I’ll share some here on my blog, and then I keep not doing it. Not because I mind if people know everything that I cover in it, but because I don’t know the best way to release it without it being super random, or without potentially triggering anyone.

On the other hand, that’s what everyone feared about To The Bone, right? That it would trigger people with EDs. But it didn’t trigger me. Granted, I’m not as deep in anorexia as I used to be, but I don’t think those thoughts ever fully leave one’s mind. It’s all a matter of how you categorize them in your head; the weight you give the weight you have. Every day, I think at least 2-3 times that I would be “better” somehow if I were 30-40 pounds lighter. At least 20. And every day I ultimately dismiss or ignore that thought, or argue against the voice.

The thing is, if you have an ED, if you dealt with anorexia for any significant time, you can’t trust your own eyes, your own opinion. I look in the mirror and what I see may not be what everyone else sees. I think some people think I’m a lot smaller than I am, but maybe I also think I’m bigger than I am. That’s the point, isn’t it? Those numbers, they mean nothing. They’re numbers only, just some digits taken from a scale and set to mind. They’re as arbitrary and subjective as opinions and beauty are.

There is no equation that solves all one’s problems. The only equation is living, and the only solution is continuing to live even when you think you can’t. Because those feelings will ebb and flow over time, like the tide at sea. Sometimes the ocean will recede, back and back and back into the horizon, and it feels like a drought will take over everything we know, and there will never again be water, there will never again be life. But the ocean always returns. The water will always be there again. Sometimes there’s too much water; the tide comes in too fiercely, and it’s not a drought of emotions, now it’s drowning in them, suffocating from an overabundance of something so ubiquitous it becomes inimical to life and living; a silent, unassuming partner for death. But that water, too, will eventually be drawn back out for tide. That water, too, will ebb. And if it goes out too far, if it comes back as a tsunami, it will take much longer to recover. But always, always, it will recede. If only you have the willingness and patience to wait for it, or to run and find the place where the tide is out if you don’t.

What is perfect? What is beautiful, or right, or wrong? What is humor? What makes one view of any of these more legitimate than another’s? If there is variation in the way humans view these things, why can there not be variation in how we see ourselves? Internally, on our own; a variegated, carbon-dated archaeological dig into our own self-view, self-worth, self-confidence, self-pity, just Self.

We all have stories we want to tell, and other stories we don’t. The dark stories we may not hide for any reason other than because they are hidden even from us, even though we may still feel them. Sick and slick and a dark balm on the soul. Something that feels like it’s helping us, healing us, but is hurting us, harming us; the slow dance down to a self-prescribed -cide, the only question being which it is. Suicide, homicide, fratricide, and more.

But why does that have to be the only end? Stories only start and end where you say. Give your story a little longer, and the line you choose to end on may give an entirely different meaning than even the one before it. Or the one after. We can’t choose what happens to us, we can’t always even choose how we react to what happens. But we can choose how we see that story, or how we make the story see us.

This world is not here to be perfect for you, so you don’t have to be perfect for the world.

You know… I write posts like this, and then I think about posting them, and sometimes I do and sometimes I don’t. Do the words make sense? Am I conveying what I meant, or saying something unintentional that I don’t mean? Do I mean it after all and just didn’t know or realize?

Now when I think about anorexia, it makes me philosophical. Because inevitably it leads me to thinking about subjectivity. There was a time I thought the world was much more divided than it really is, as strange as that may sound given how divisive the norm has become.

But I believed in extremities. I don’t mean I believed extremities exist–of course they do–I mean, I saw the world in either/or fashion more than mediation. Black or white, right or wrong, good or evil. It wasn’t always that cut and dry, it wasn’t always that dismissive, but it was there. I didn’t believe solely in those concepts, because I’d lived so much of my life outside the norm. But maybe what I thought was accepted was only those extremities. Maybe I thought that to the general world, the general population, I only existed when my natural flow overlapped one of those pools of thought. Everywhere else, I was an in-between, a nothingness that existed because it breathed, but did not exist because it didn’t live the way it was supposed to.

And that was part of it, wasn’t it? “Supposed to” — an expectation, inexorable, unspoken but unavoidable, a question in every breath and a thought in every mind. That which we are expected to do, that which we are required. Being born so different, maybe on some level I thought it was my duty to align in some ways whenever I could, to give meaning to my life, maybe, or maybe to give context for myself.

I get philosophical because I think about all the things I thought, and all the things I think now, and they aren’t so different, honestly; I’ve always been pretty similar in some ways. But the way I see those thoughts is what has changed. I think.

The question is this: whose voice do you listen to, when you can listen to only one?

Is it the voice that tells you over and over you aren’t enough, you have to be more or less or better or different?

Is it the voice of others, not understanding or not trying, an accidental dismissal of everything you own and know and are?

Is it the voice of those who do understand, who do try, but don’t know the words to fix it, because they think they have to do the fixing even when they don’t?

Is it the voice inside, perilous and quavering and oh so uncertain about everything?

Is it the voice even deeper inside, quiet and questioning, unwilling to accept the status quo, unwilling to accept this is it?

For me, it was that deeper voice that made me always stop just before it went too far. That deeper voice that, for years, led to nights I cried alone, hushing my voice so the tears tracked my cheeks but even my gasps were silenced so I wouldn’t disturb anyone else. That deeper voice that would not let me accept the louder voices. That deeper voice that refused to give up on me.

If you were to ask what any of this means, what any of this matters, I couldn’t tell you. It’s just the thoughts I have when I watch movies like To The Bone. The philosophy that emerges when that deeper voice rises to the surface, once more discontent with the silence, once more questioning all that I thought I knew, and everything I accepted since the last time we conversed.

The Equality of Differences (full text)

I had posted part of my Equality of Differences post here on my blog previously, but I wanted to post the full text here in case QRM ever needs to purge its old posts for space or something else happens that causes it to accidentally disappear.

While it’s still around, find it here: http://www.queerromancemonth.com/ais-lin-2015/

The Equality of Differences by Ais Lin

I have spent most of my life feeling like an alien on Earth. The main reason for this is because it has often felt like, at every step of the way, I was different than what society expected.

My earliest memory is of being at recess in elementary school and running up to a teacher to ask, “What’s a lesbian?” I know I asked that question because somebody called me one, but I don’t remember exactly what they said, nor what the teacher’s response was. All I know is whatever the teacher said gave me the impression it was something very bad, because I remember running back and yelling at the other kid that I wasn’t a lesbian at all.

I was too young back then to know I actually was a lesbian, and way too young to know I was asexual as well. Maybe if I’d known I wouldn’t have denied it to that kid, because later I would grow up to realize how important it is to be myself. Even when that means I feel like I don’t belong.

For anyone who’s interested, I wrote a blog post earlier this year called An Asexual’s View of Love which talks about how, to me, romance can seem like a fetishization of love. I don’t want to be repetitive so I focus on different topics in this post than I did in that one.

The topic of having romance be accessible to everyone is something very dear to me, as a woman who is definitely a romantic at heart but who also happens to be both asexual and a lesbian. I’ve often felt that the things that are expected of human beings, and especially female human beings in the US, are things that are utterly foreign to me.

There are different ways of feeling alienated or consistently “not normal.” For me, it’s always been a whole lot of little things that added up to me feeling like a freak of nature as far as mainstream is concerned. Stereotypes shouldn’t be expectations, but in aggregate they are.

Women are overtly sexualized in the US (which creeps me out as an asexual), with the expectation that men should get the most out of her and have some control of, or accessibility to, her beauty (which creeps me out as a lesbian), and with the further assumption that her end goal in life must be to have children, marry and settle down (which creeps me out as someone who didn’t like kids as a kid and doesn’t want to be around them any more as an adult).

In short, if you imagine what is assumed to be “normal,” I was almost always the opposite.

One of the most pervasive differences in my life has been related to what are expected to be basic experiences of all American youth. Unlike most people I knew growing up in high school, college, and beyond: I didn’t drink, smoke, use drugs, or party. To this day I’ve never smoked cigarettes nor tried anything even as low level as pot, and I have zero interest in doing so. I didn’t have my first full drink of alcohol until I was probably twenty-three, didn’t own a single wine glass until I was thirty, and generally could happily live my life without alcohol.

In a country that seems obsessed with religion, I was raised without religion but surrounded by various denominations of Christianity (some more hardcore than others). Yet, when I chose my own religion at age 14, I became Wiccan (Pagan) which, at the time, was very misunderstood and resulted in some religious persecution, mostly for my friend. Later, in college, the first time I found a group of people who understood the feeling of Otherness from not drinking/partying, was when I spoke to Sunni young Muslim women who struggled with the same issues. I came to have a lot of respect for Islam, and to day this naturally feel more comfortable around Muslims because they were the first group of people who both welcomed and understood that feeling.

At 14 I also became vegetarian, at a time and place when it was very uncommon to be so (and not entirely accepted). I became a Reiki Level I practitioner at 16, way before alternative healing was acknowledged in the US and I had to drive hours to find someone who could teach me. And when kids got in trouble for sneaking out, I got in trouble for staying up too late reading books.

There are more examples, but that’s a basic overview.

I was very fortunate to have a great family who told me to be myself, and a handful of close friends who didn’t question me being me. For that reason, I had some stability. But in the greater scheme of things, I always felt like I was damaged goods. Broken. In greater society, I felt a lot of pressure because I knew I was inherently wrong. I knew it would be easier if I conformed, but that was something I couldn’t do, even if I wanted to.

I’m proud of being different even though that also means I have often felt suffocated by it, and at times I wished to the depths of my soul that for once in my fucking life I could just be normal. For fucking once, I could fit in with mainstream.

Because a lot of stories are informed by mainstream expectations, I feel like it’s rare to find characters who represent me in any medium. The few times a character represents a piece of me, it often feels like their difference is dismissed or turned into a joke or sometimes even mocked.

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A true story (maybe a series of them?)

When I was 14, I became Wiccan. I think that’s also the year I became vegetarian. There are a lot of stories that stem from those two turning points in my life, but this is the one I want to tell you now:

Maybe it was my willingness to believe in magick and foresight, or maybe it was something else. But I remember knowing with certainty after I became Wiccan for sure, but maybe even since before then, that I wasn’t going to live past 18.

I knew it deeper than I’ve ever known anything in my life. And I knew how I was going to die, too. A car accident. I didn’t know if I would cause it or if it would be out of my control, I only knew that was what would happen. I felt the vibrations of the violence of it in my dreams at night; not as nightmares but as a dread conviction.

I knew it so completely that I came to simply accept it. I woke up in the morning, I breathed, I knew my time was limited. It became something that was comforting, in a way.

And because I knew I would die by the time I was 18, I knew I had to write at least one of the stories that wouldn’t leave my mind. So I started what is now Incarnations, but back then was called Calling of the Onyx. I started it when I was around 12/13, around there, and wrote about 150 pages before I had to stop and start over because it wasn’t right. It wasn’t right. And this was my only chance, really, to write the right story before I would die.

Time passed, high school continued, my attempts to write my story marched on.

I don’t remember how old I was on that day. I was in high school still, definitely younger than 18. Was I 16? 17? I hadn’t yet had my 18th birthday, I’m sure.

Back then, my older brother drove us to and from school, and he also picked up or dropped off friends of mine along the way when it was convenient. This day would have been like any other day, except it wasn’t.

When school was out, my brother said he’d drop my friend Tara off at her house. The plan was to drop her off and then I’d go home with my brother. But for some reason that day, Tara asked me last minute as she was stepping out of the car if I wanted to come inside and hang out–study for a math test that was coming up the next day.

Was it a surprise test we’d only just learned of that day? I don’t remember.

What I remember is there was a moment where I hesitated, sitting in the passenger seat. I kind of didn’t want to go to her house, because I wanted to go home and watch TV and roleplay online and just chill. And in that hesitation she urged me to come inside, it’d be fun, and I said I wasn’t sure, and she said come on just come in, so I asked my brother if that’d be okay and he said he didn’t care.

I went inside and my brother drove off.

Tara and I spent the next hour half studying, half goofing off. Until her phone rang and she picked it up, and said it was for me. I answered the phone, heard my mom’s voice and figured she was about to ask when I wanted to be picked up, but that wasn’t at all what she was calling to say.

My brother had been in a really bad car accident, she told me. His car was totaled, she said.

Within blocks of Tara’s house, he had gone through an intersection properly but an SUV hadn’t paid attention to the stop sign and had sped through the intersection. It slammed into the passenger side of the car, T-boned it. Destroyed the car.

My brother was okay.

But if I had been in that passenger seat like I was supposed to be, I wouldn’t have been.

I felt that that was the car accident I had felt all these years. That was what had been weighing on me for years, knowing it was coming, thinking I had no choice. But at the same time I thought, surely that can’t be the accident I expected? Because I somehow missed it, by pure luck and Tara’s insistence.

I think that happened around the time I was 16, because I think I remember there being years after that where I still anticipated that vehicular death even as I no longer felt the certainty as I had before that day at Tara’s.

I wondered for a long time after that why I hadn’t died like I’d expected. When I turned 18, and then 19, and then beyond, I didn’t know what to do with this life I’d never expected to have. I didn’t understand why I had been spared something that had been written in stone for so long.

When I got into fanfic writing and saw the community that came from fandoms, when I had to come up with a reason for why I was alive, I thought that a dream for this unexpected time I had on Earth was for there to someday be something I could write that could be meaningful in whatever way possible to even just one other person. I thought that if I could have anything, if I could find meaning in a dream, then my dream was for something I was involved in writing to have a fandom, no matter how small it may be.

Just one fanfic, one fanart, one anything, would be incredible. Anything beyond that would be astounding, and would fulfill that dream I didn’t dare breathe aloud.

ICoS ended up accidentally fulfilling that dream of mine, which left me feeling free to go back to that story I started all those years ago. Back when I thought I’d have only a few years before I was gone. Now I named it Incarnations, and now I’m trying to finish writing it this year.

Because of ICoS, because of the amazing readers for that story, because at least one person found it meaningful, because at least one person made fanfic or fanart or anything else, because of that community, I’ve been able to dare to have another dream.

This one may never happen, and if it doesn’t I’m honestly completely okay with it. The fact that my first dream was met is more than enough for me. I hardly dare hope for more. But if I could have it, it would be this:

I would love, someday, to be able to quit my job and write a book that gets published. I would like to make just enough money to be able to scrape by as a writer (I don’t expect to ever be rich or well-known). But mostly, even if I can’t do those things, what I would really love is to even just change jobs so I could do what I’ve really wanted to do for years:

I would love to be able to meet people in person. I would love to be able to go to a convention. I would feel incredibly lucky if I could ever be on a panel in a convention, or be a main speaker or the only speaker in one of those panels. I would love to be able to do a book signing sometime in my life. I would love to be able to sit in an Artist’s Alley with books and draw little Ais’ Terrible Art cartoons for anyone who is interested and who was kind enough to stop by. And I would love, someday, to be able to somehow incorporate charities into what I do, like somehow make just a bit more than enough money to scrape by so that extra bit could go to one of my favorite charities, so the people who want to donate know it’s going to a good cause.

I would love any and all of these things, but I also know it’s entirely likely none of this will happen. And I know that even if I were lucky enough to be able to go to a convention as Ais, no one would probably know who I am or care. If I were ever on a panel, particularly if I were the only speaker, or if I ever did some book signing, I would worry that no one would care and no one would show up.

I would have to convince some friends to come so I wouldn’t be sitting there alone in silence. But at least with friends we could hang out and talk, so it’d still be great.

But as much as I would love for any or all of that to happen, I also know it doesn’t have to happen because I was lucky enough for one dream to already have been met, and that alone is more than enough. That alone is more than I’d ever hoped to have.

For every person who ever wrote to us about ICoS, who ever cared about the series or a character, who ever drew anything or made an edit or wrote anything or made music or anything else–to each and every one of you, I can never thank you enough because I don’t have the words to explain to you how incredible and important that is to me.

I wondered why it was that day after school Tara was so insistent, and why I went against my nature to unexpectedly stay at her house. I wondered why I lived when I was set to die.

A few years ago I realized, was it so ICoS could happen? That life-changing event that also wasn’t planned, that also happened accidentally, but that also had positive repercussions in my life going forward? Was ICoS important to someone who needed it at that moment in their life, for whatever reason? Was that why I was spared, so that accidental event could happen for them?

I don’t know, really. Maybe I was also spared so I could rescue my dog. Maybe there’s something I don’t know of yet. I don’t believe in fate, exactly, nor do I think everything has to happen for a reason. I think a lot of things just sort of happen and we roll with them and it’s our reactions to them that affects our options in the future.

That’s how I generally feel, but I can’t feel that way about that accident, because that accident was something I felt the repercussions of years before it happened. That accident was something I knew would happen. That accident is something that so very nearly did happen to me. So the fact that it didn’t is what makes me curious the reason why.

And most days, lately, I feel like the existence of ICoS maybe is that reason.

A series?

There are some true stories I’ve considered sharing, or things I struggle with sometimes, in the event they are helpful for anyone else or even just interesting to read.

In particular that’s been on my mind the most has been my struggles over the years with anorexia and ways I’ve dealt with it or tried to get over it, as much as can be done. For example, lately I’ve been struggling with how a person loses weight when they don’t know if they should be losing that weight and are afraid of triggering right back to where they started on anorexia.

Would that be useful and/or of interest for anyone? Let me know if so.

Never regret you

I received this anonymous post on tumblr, and since I wrote a long answer I thought I may want to reference it later. To make it easier to find, or in case it helps anyone else to see this who would miss it on tumblr, I’m posting it here.


 

lovedieanon

I feel that way a lot too, anon. I can understand that feeling well. Since I’ve always felt like some sort of weird outlier to life at large, I’ve struggled a lot of my life with refusing to be anyone other than myself, while constantly having to recognize how being “myself” meant that a lot of who I am will not be understood. It’s been getting better over time but that feeling still remains, even though I’m lucky with having some great friends and family.

Actually I wrote an article along these lines for Queer Romance Month if it helps at all: The Equality of Differences.

Anyway, because of all that, and compounding the issue with me being asexual and a lesbian, I have always felt like no one I could ever come to love will ever love me, and I’ll end up dying alone. I still feel that way now. I’ve kind of resigned myself to that inevitability, in all honesty. I just don’t feel like there’s a reason anyone should bother with me, and even if they did then the trouble is with me being an asexual lesbian I have a VERY small subsection of people who I may even be attracted to in the first place who also would be okay with who I am, without one or both of us having to seriously compromise on what is important for us just so we can be together.

But the thing is, I’ve spent many years watching other people cycle through all these relationship hurdles and roller coasters and becoming co-dependent or being too afraid to exist on their own and always jumping into relationships because they can’t love themselves individually. I’ve watched people in relationships spanning years, decades, split up later because they grew apart or maybe they never should have actually been together in the first place but they thought they had to be because that was what they thought love was. (I wrote about this in January 2015 on my blog as well which maybe you would find interesting if you want to see that thought process in more detail: An Asexual’s View of Love)

The conclusion I’ve reached over time is that it isn’t bad to be alone. Honestly, it isn’t. There is a lot of freedom in being alone; you can dictate your time much more efficiently, you can explore ideas or hobbies or adventures at your leisure, and you can take all the time you need to recognize, really realize, how important you are as yourself. I’ve always been really big on people being themselves, whether or not that happens to fit mainstream.

For me, in any group of people I’m in, there’s almost always some pretty big part of me that is pretty fucking weird to the people in that group. So there’s a part of me that always feels like it doesn’t belong, like I stand out, and that has created dual reactions over time for me.

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The Equality of Differences – QRM post

Hey all — my blog post for Queer Romance Month is out and I wanted to mention it here because I think people might be interested in it. I called it The Equality of Differences and I don’t think I can totally copy the whole post over here (since that wouldn’t be fair to QRM) so instead I’m showing you just the beginning of it below.

Follow the link at the end to read the rest.


I have spent most of my life feeling like an alien on Earth. The main reason for this is because it has often felt like, at every step of the way, I was different than what society expected.

My earliest memory is of being at recess in elementary school and running up to a teacher to ask, “What’s a lesbian?” I know I asked that question because somebody called me one, but I don’t remember exactly what they said, nor what the teacher’s response was. All I know is whatever the teacher said gave me the impression it was something very bad, because I remember running back and yelling at the other kid that I wasn’t a lesbian at all.

I was too young back then to know I actually was a lesbian, and way too young to know I was asexual as well. Maybe if I’d known I wouldn’t have denied it to that kid, because later I would grow up to realize how important it is to be myself. Even when that means I feel like I don’t belong.

For anyone who’s interested, I wrote a blog post earlier this year called An Asexual’s View of Love which talks about how, to me, romance can seem like a fetishization of love. I don’t want to be repetitive so I focus on different topics in this post than I did in that one.

The topic of having romance be accessible to everyone is something very dear to me, as a woman who is definitely a romantic at heart but who also happens to be both asexual and a lesbian. I’ve often felt that the things that are expected of human beings, and especially female human beings in the US, are things that are utterly foreign to me.

There are different ways of feeling alienated or consistently “not normal.” For me, it’s always been a whole lot of little things that added up to me feeling like a freak of nature as far as mainstream is concerned. Stereotypes shouldn’t be expectations, but in aggregate they are.

Women are overtly sexualized in the US (which creeps me out as an asexual), with the expectation that men should get the most out of her and have some control of, or accessibility to, her beauty (which creeps me out as a lesbian), and with the further assumption that her end goal in life must be to have children, marry and settle down (which creeps me out as someone who didn’t like kids as a kid and doesn’t want to be around them any more as an adult).

In short, if you imagine what is assumed to be “normal,” I was almost always the opposite.

CONTINUE READING: http://www.queerromancemonth.com/ais-lin-2015

Hufflepuff Pride, motherfuckers!

Anonymous asked: Ais. I hear that you’re a harry potter fan. What house are you in?

lol does it show just how much of a nerdy Harry Potter fan I am, that at this question I thought to myself, “Well, I can’t sort myself on this. Only the Sorting Hat can do that. And of course Gryffindor seems like a cool choice and Ravenclaw seems great for intellect but I bet I’m probably actually Hufflepuff. But I’d better get the official answer on this.”

So I went to pottermore and made an account and went through the sorting and…. I got Hufflepuff.

Which, ngl, my first reaction was, “Man! LAME. How’d I get the lamest house?? I knew I’d get the boring one!” So first I was gonna try taking other HP tests to see if I was sorted somewhere else on random internet quizzes, but I mean. Pottermore is Pottermore. I gotta go with that one. That’s the official answer.

Then I figured maybe I should read about Hufflepuff to make myself feel better about this, and after I read the pottermore wikia article on it I feel much better! I’m okay with being Hufflepuff! I mean, it’s the sort of house people dismiss and overlook but I resonate with what it said about Hufflepuffs and why they are the badger (”Our emblem is the badger, an animal that is often underestimated, because it lives quietly until attacked, but which, when provoked, can fight off animals much larger than itself, including wolves.”) also Hufflepuffs have all these cool pieces of history to it like did you know that the world authority on magical creatures AND the founder of Hogsmeade are both Hufflepuff? Plus, then I saw that John Green is also a Hufflepuff! ESTEEMED COMPANY, MY FRIEND.

And then these two Buzzfeed articles were like YEAH HUFFLEPUFF and now I’m like FUCK YEAH HUFFLEPUFF PRIDE, MAN! I don’t care if I’m in the House that people are dicks about! Me and my people aren’t dicks back, that’s all that matters! You look down on us all you want Hufflehaters! Honey badgers don’t give a shit!

So that’s the story of how I am a really big fucking Harry Potter nerd who also now suddenly has major Hufflepuff pride XD

btw my wand is Larch with a unicorn core, 10 inches, slightly yielding… which sounded cool to me because YES UNICORN (I don’t care that phoenix feather is fancier, although dragon heartstring would’ve been cool– but Remus fucking Lupin has unicorn core wand and that makes it fantastic to me <3) but when I started to read the overview of what all the wand stuff meant and I got to the meaning of the wand length I was like MAN I FEEL INSULTED lol But then I read the meaning of Larch and saw that info about the unicorn core so I’m all good now ❤

…I wonder if you thought I would answer with just the house name XD I bet most normal people would. BUT OH WELL GONNA HUFFLE IT UP OVER HERE AND TRY TO BE UNNECESSARILY HELPFUL OHOHUFFLE <– my new laugh. Not to be confused with my new dance: the OHOHUFFLE SHUFFLE.

I’ll be done now. Don’t mind me. Gonna be chillin in the only common room that hasn’t had an intruder in over 500 years because we’re fucking boss down here.

Let’s Talk About It: the complexity of feminism

This is something I’m labeling as a “Let’s Talk About It” here because I ended up talking at length about this topic, but it originated from an ask on tumblr. Below is the ask, as well as my answer. I’m posting here because it’s a long answer and others may find it to be of interest, or I may want to find this post again in the future.

Copied tumblr post below:


feministetalquestion

I answered the ICoS questions in a different post so here I’m answering just the feminist question. I split them because whether I consider myself to be a feminist is a complicated/long answer on its own.

You may be wondering why this part took me so much longer to answer. It’s because no matter how many times I started this post, it always devolved into way too many topics way too quickly and somehow it involved a rant. Although you said it was fine to rant, I felt like I wasn’t explaining my thought process well and I kept getting way too sidetracked. To me, everything is interconnected so there are several really big topics that can get pulled in from the simple question of “feminism: yes/no?”.

This is probably try #6 on this post and hopefully this will be the last attempt. All of this is, of course, merely my personal opinion– other people could think completely differently than I do, and it doesn’t make them less valid than me. It simply makes them a human being with a different opinion, which is not something to judge but rather something to accept and even love.

The short answer is that I don’t consider myself to be anything in particular. Without going way too much on a tangent, the way I personally feel about things (others could feel otherwise and be totally valid) is that labels are limiting, both externally by what people make assumptions about based on the label, and internally by what people will allow themselves to think/feel based on trying to fit in with whatever label they’ve self-assigned.

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Finding the right bra: tips and information

For everyone with breasts: this is about finding the right bra for you (both size and style) and knowing your breast size/shape. This post, which may seem a bit random and personal, is because of a conversation on Facebook where I talked about a lot of this information, then realized maybe it would be good to share with others.

I saw this video a few years ago and it’s what made me first realize I had measured myself completely incorrectly– I recommend you watch it too:

If you don’t want to watch that video or even if you did already see it, here’s more information below.

MEASUREMENTS, TYPES, AND STYLES

Ok so, bras are weird. I was never educated on these things so there’s a LOT I didn’t know about before I decided to measure myself one day. I had no idea that for most of my life, I wore bras that were way smaller than I should have had.

What I found for myself was that as soon as I wore the correct size, it was so much more comfortable– and people kept telling me that they thought I’d lost weight or why did I look so good? When I told them it was just that I was wearing the correct bra size now, they were surprised. And doubtful that it would make such a difference, but it does.

My recommendations/tips:

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