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hi, I'm writing this one from a dingy hotel room at 1am. on a trip with family.

I've been stuck on what to write here after my last entry. it was quite a big one. but this is my space to write what I want, and I can write about whatever. also I might speak like an idiot because I've been watching classic doctor who for an hour and my internal monologue is speaking like someone from a 70s sci fi show

spending time with my family is a unique kind of misery. a constant barrage of offhand comments about me. mostly said in jest but they still sting. jokes about things they don't actually know I struggle with. gossip about 'trangenders', never in a blatantly transphobic way, more as in a dehumanising way. talking about how 'stupid it all is nowadays' and trans genitals etc etc. I have to sit there hearing my mum talking about her parenting, about how she made some mistakes but did pretty well in her opinion. a night ago I was shaking in fear at the memory of her. but I need to nod and smile. if I make any comments back she will start making comments about how I'm mouthy. how I always complain at her, I never let her have fun, I always say no to her. maybe I do. maybe I do act like that, but how am I genuinley supposed to act? how? she abused me for years? how am I just supposed to be okay sitting there while she's completely unaware? I'm still scared. I still have those defense mechanisms built into me. I'm scared of her. she's scary. when I'm talking to her it feels like she is talking down to me. she takes most possible moments to lecture me. if I complain about the things she does, she denies them. 'I never gave you those issues' 'I never said that' 'I've never done that'. it makes me question my reality. it's gaslighting. I know that term is overused but it is trademark gaslighting. it makes me sick. it makes me feel like I'm insane. 'maybe im just over emotional, maybe it was never that bad.' every moment around her is internal turmoil.

this is a note to the voice in my head mimicking my mother and everything she'd say to respond to what i just wrote: sorry if I don't spend time with you mum, truth is, it's scary. I'm scared of you. you hurt me, and I don't care if you don't think you did, because you did. I know you had a shit childhood, I know mine was better than yours, but what you did still was not okay. you didn't just yell at me, you used words to berate me. strip me down emotionally until I felt I didn't deserve love. I don't care if you don't think you did that. you did. I am not insane. you cannot wipe out these memories. you can't make me repress these ones like you made me repress the others. I write rhem down. I obsessively film everything. I draw and I take pictures just because I need to know what is true. because of you. I am scared of you. you are abusive and I am scared.

i don't know when this is going to end. everyone i know has told me she has hurt me. everyone has told me but her. and I guess for me she's the only one I actually care about. it's stupid.

I'm doing very badly right now. I can't work. I've begun distancing myself from friends. I'll be okay but this is bad and I don't see the light at the end of the tunnel anymore.

I'm tired. im going to go back to watching doctor who now. but I want to say something first. I love you. and by you, I mean the person reading through this blog for comfort. the person who finds it comforting to hear someone talking about their problems. I know you're there. shit sucks but we're going to get better. I'm in a bad situation right now, I'm living with my abuser and I am miserable. that's why this blog exists. and despite what it may seem, I'm doing better now than I was before. progress can be slow at times. it's slow for me right now because I don't have independence, but the important thing is to keep going. no matter how long it takes, the time will pass either way.