So... um. Let's try this again.
From now on all posts will be mirrored over at my DreamWidth given the shitty user policies that have been enacted here on LJ. I don't want to completely abandon LJ, though, since I still have a permanent account and over a decade of my adult life is here. I really do want to try and post here with at least some kind of regularity just so I can have a record of my life to look back on. But I digress...
I think the last time I posted an actual entry here that wasn't just imported tweets was... 2014? Something like that? A fuck ton of stuff has happened since then, some of it good, some of it pits-of-hell-worthy.
First, the good:
After nearly 7 years of fighting, I no longer consider myself depressed. I came off of my anti-depressants on accident (my stupid ass forgot to take them for a week and then I decided to give it a shot without) in the spring of 2016, and over the summer I slowly started getting some motivation back to be productive by cleaning up and making upgrades to my bedroom. That led, at long last, to me FINALLY getting my studio space in September/October of 2016.
I cleaned out my grandmother's old bedroom (which was a monumental task because it was a junk room that had shit piled almost as tall as I am with just a path leading to the closet), and then my dad helped me remodel it to make it mine and taught me all the things I needed to know in order to do so. We took out the old broken intercom and old unused AC intake vent that were in the wall and patched the holes. We stripped the old pastel floral wallpaper from the accent wall. We took down the old blinds and frilly ceiling fan and replaced them with nicer, cooler looking stuff. I replaced the door and outlet hardware with nickel finished metal and fancy doorknobs. Then I painted the three formerly white walls a dark teal and the accent wall two different shades of violet. I bought a nice display cabinet for my nicest Aladdin knickknacks, art pieces, and jewelry. I hung my nicest Aladdin fine art pieces on the walls along with my degree from Ringling. I put in my old fridge from college and stocked it with my favorite drinks. I moved my desk and all my computer equipment and printers in, and then set up every gaming console from my childhood until now into an 8 port splitter on a lovely 42" 4K TV. I moved all my art books to two bookshelves flanking the TV, and finished it off with a nice big chair in the middle of the room to sit in while gaming. I also finally took the plunge and got myself a 22" Cintiq to replace my old 12", and it's wonderful.
I adore my studio. It is my office, my nerd cave, and my lady lair. It's kind of messy right now but once it's tidied up a bit I plan on taking photos for an office tour on all my social media. It's my sanctuary, and I cannot describe how much good it did for my mental state.
In November of 2016 I got into a new anime, Yuri On Ice, and it was life changing. I hadn't loved a series that much since Inuyasha, and not only did it pull me the rest of the way out of my depression, it gave me back my inspiration to draw for myself. I started getting ideas faster than I could complete them again, and I revived my old tumblr. In the last year and a half I've gained over 1,200 new followers, and I feel like I'm as close to my old self as I've ever been in nearly a decade. All of the art I've posted in that time can be found under my art post tag on tumblr.
The only thing bigger for me mentally and emotionally than coming out of my depression was coming out as asexual. Yep. I finally figured it out. Everything from my teen years onward makes so much more sense now that I realize there isn't anything wrong with me, and I'm not broken. I'm just ace. That's why I don't care about having a relationship and really haven't for a long time. In the last year I figured out that I'm panromantic as well. Compulsory heterosexuality is a powerful thing, and it made me completely ignore how I viewed and related to the gender spectrum beyond men. The whole journey has been very freeing and also did a lot to contribute to the more healthy headspace I'm in now.
In the last couple years Bree also came out as pansexual. We now joke that we are on the exact opposite ends of the spectrum: I'm attracted to nothing, and she's attracted to everything. We are also apparent members of the LGBT Mafia, and we are on a mission to destroy society. According to a particular religious zealot Bree encountered, at least, which we found far too amusing.
That is unfortunately where the good things end.
Starting in October of 2017 my life went to hell in a hand basket again, it still hasn't let up, but I am bound and determined not to let myself fall back into that depression hole again. Thus far I have been successful in that, and I'm honestly proud of myself for it.
In October of 2017 I blew out one of the discs in my lower back, as my surgeon put it. I can't do anything just half-assed, apparently. By the time I was able to get surgery to remove the herniation, I went through six solid weeks of level 9-11 pain that was the worst I'd ever had in my life. I was all but disabled because of the pain. The herniation was so severe that it crushed one of my sacral nerves to the point of it turning black and nearly wearing a hole through it. The pain from that was so severe that when I woke up in recovery after the surgery and realized the unbearable pain underneath me was gone, I legitimately cried. I consider the 2" long scar on my back a trophy now of what I endured, and just how much I can handle.
The surgery was literally two days before Thanksgiving, so I spent all of the holidays recovering and didn't really have holidays as a result. We severely cut back on our decorating of the house, we didn't bake any cookies, and we didn't put out any lights outside. It sucked.
The crushed nerve healing caused numbness in my right leg and half of my right foot lengthwise. Not being able to feel half of my foot made me start rolling my ankle a bit with every step I took, causing it to balloon up to the size of a softball every night. I had to wear an ankle stabilizer every day, and I was only just able to stop using it literally a few weeks ago. I still don't have all the feeling back in my toes.
When we went on our annual WDW trip in January of this year, right after my dad went home my mom and I both got the flu and were stuck in the room for five days. We felt like shit for the rest of the trip because we were getting over being sick, and we had to rent mobility scooters for a few days because we physically could not walk through the parks all day after being so sick. The last two days we were there I had to use a scooter because my ankle was causing me so much pain I could hardly walk.
Those of you who have known me on here for a long time will remember that the catalyst that caused my depression was my middle sister, Angeline, dying of breast cancer in January of 2010.
At the end of February of this year, my only remaining sibling, Michelle, died of liver failure. She was 51 years old. I'm now the only child my parents have left. Her death is the reason why I'm so proud of myself for not allowing myself to slip back down into that depression pit. Honestly, I had to be a bit more selfish this time around. I've been there for my parents, of course, but I had to take safeguards to protect my own mental and emotional well-being. I think that's what saved me. I fought too hard to get where I am to give it all up again, and honestly? If I let depression consume me for another 7 years like last time, I would be 40 by the time I came out of it again. I'm not willing to give up the remainder of my youth, damn it.
As if all of that wasn't enough punishment, literally the DAY we buried Michelle's ashes next to Angeline in our family plot, we found out Sushi has advanced lymphoma. She's only 9 years old. She was given 2-3 months to live at the end of February, and thankfully she's still here. She's having more difficulties every day, but she's still happy and has a voracious appetite which we have been feeding to her heart's content. She gets steak in her dinners, ice cream every afternoon, and treats like sweet popcorn and homemade Rice Krispy treats at night because she has a huge sweet tooth. The vet told us to throw caution to the wind in that department, because it doesn't matter how fat she gets now. She's going to die before she'd ever become diabetic or have other health problems related to weight, so for now until the end we're giving her the best time a dog could ever ask for. At this point the vet is seeing her every two weeks, and I don't believe he's expecting her to make it until August. We're treasuring every day we have with her, because we all know that we're going to be absolutely devastated when the time comes and we lose her. This isn't fair. We should have had at least another five years with her.
After all of the hell I've been through I just didn't have it in me to do a big convention, so as a result I had to withdraw from A-Kon's artist alley for the first time in 13 years. I hope and plan to be back next year, because I'm not ready to give that up yet even though my body is starting to legitimately fail me now. I'm going to be 34 in September and I seriously do not know how much longer I'm going to be physically able to do conventions, so I'm going to keep enjoying it while I can until my body forces me to retire. It won't be without a fight first.
Soon it's just going to be me, my mom, my dad, and Bree (who is now 22 years old and living on her own up in Denton). My family has been decimated in the last 13 years, and it now makes me think of Lilo & Stitch:
This is my family.
It may be little, and broken,
but it's still good.
I think the last time I posted an actual entry here that wasn't just imported tweets was... 2014? Something like that? A fuck ton of stuff has happened since then, some of it good, some of it pits-of-hell-worthy.
First, the good:
After nearly 7 years of fighting, I no longer consider myself depressed. I came off of my anti-depressants on accident (my stupid ass forgot to take them for a week and then I decided to give it a shot without) in the spring of 2016, and over the summer I slowly started getting some motivation back to be productive by cleaning up and making upgrades to my bedroom. That led, at long last, to me FINALLY getting my studio space in September/October of 2016.
I cleaned out my grandmother's old bedroom (which was a monumental task because it was a junk room that had shit piled almost as tall as I am with just a path leading to the closet), and then my dad helped me remodel it to make it mine and taught me all the things I needed to know in order to do so. We took out the old broken intercom and old unused AC intake vent that were in the wall and patched the holes. We stripped the old pastel floral wallpaper from the accent wall. We took down the old blinds and frilly ceiling fan and replaced them with nicer, cooler looking stuff. I replaced the door and outlet hardware with nickel finished metal and fancy doorknobs. Then I painted the three formerly white walls a dark teal and the accent wall two different shades of violet. I bought a nice display cabinet for my nicest Aladdin knickknacks, art pieces, and jewelry. I hung my nicest Aladdin fine art pieces on the walls along with my degree from Ringling. I put in my old fridge from college and stocked it with my favorite drinks. I moved my desk and all my computer equipment and printers in, and then set up every gaming console from my childhood until now into an 8 port splitter on a lovely 42" 4K TV. I moved all my art books to two bookshelves flanking the TV, and finished it off with a nice big chair in the middle of the room to sit in while gaming. I also finally took the plunge and got myself a 22" Cintiq to replace my old 12", and it's wonderful.
I adore my studio. It is my office, my nerd cave, and my lady lair. It's kind of messy right now but once it's tidied up a bit I plan on taking photos for an office tour on all my social media. It's my sanctuary, and I cannot describe how much good it did for my mental state.
In November of 2016 I got into a new anime, Yuri On Ice, and it was life changing. I hadn't loved a series that much since Inuyasha, and not only did it pull me the rest of the way out of my depression, it gave me back my inspiration to draw for myself. I started getting ideas faster than I could complete them again, and I revived my old tumblr. In the last year and a half I've gained over 1,200 new followers, and I feel like I'm as close to my old self as I've ever been in nearly a decade. All of the art I've posted in that time can be found under my art post tag on tumblr.
The only thing bigger for me mentally and emotionally than coming out of my depression was coming out as asexual. Yep. I finally figured it out. Everything from my teen years onward makes so much more sense now that I realize there isn't anything wrong with me, and I'm not broken. I'm just ace. That's why I don't care about having a relationship and really haven't for a long time. In the last year I figured out that I'm panromantic as well. Compulsory heterosexuality is a powerful thing, and it made me completely ignore how I viewed and related to the gender spectrum beyond men. The whole journey has been very freeing and also did a lot to contribute to the more healthy headspace I'm in now.
In the last couple years Bree also came out as pansexual. We now joke that we are on the exact opposite ends of the spectrum: I'm attracted to nothing, and she's attracted to everything. We are also apparent members of the LGBT Mafia, and we are on a mission to destroy society. According to a particular religious zealot Bree encountered, at least, which we found far too amusing.
That is unfortunately where the good things end.
Starting in October of 2017 my life went to hell in a hand basket again, it still hasn't let up, but I am bound and determined not to let myself fall back into that depression hole again. Thus far I have been successful in that, and I'm honestly proud of myself for it.
In October of 2017 I blew out one of the discs in my lower back, as my surgeon put it. I can't do anything just half-assed, apparently. By the time I was able to get surgery to remove the herniation, I went through six solid weeks of level 9-11 pain that was the worst I'd ever had in my life. I was all but disabled because of the pain. The herniation was so severe that it crushed one of my sacral nerves to the point of it turning black and nearly wearing a hole through it. The pain from that was so severe that when I woke up in recovery after the surgery and realized the unbearable pain underneath me was gone, I legitimately cried. I consider the 2" long scar on my back a trophy now of what I endured, and just how much I can handle.
The surgery was literally two days before Thanksgiving, so I spent all of the holidays recovering and didn't really have holidays as a result. We severely cut back on our decorating of the house, we didn't bake any cookies, and we didn't put out any lights outside. It sucked.
The crushed nerve healing caused numbness in my right leg and half of my right foot lengthwise. Not being able to feel half of my foot made me start rolling my ankle a bit with every step I took, causing it to balloon up to the size of a softball every night. I had to wear an ankle stabilizer every day, and I was only just able to stop using it literally a few weeks ago. I still don't have all the feeling back in my toes.
When we went on our annual WDW trip in January of this year, right after my dad went home my mom and I both got the flu and were stuck in the room for five days. We felt like shit for the rest of the trip because we were getting over being sick, and we had to rent mobility scooters for a few days because we physically could not walk through the parks all day after being so sick. The last two days we were there I had to use a scooter because my ankle was causing me so much pain I could hardly walk.
Those of you who have known me on here for a long time will remember that the catalyst that caused my depression was my middle sister, Angeline, dying of breast cancer in January of 2010.
At the end of February of this year, my only remaining sibling, Michelle, died of liver failure. She was 51 years old. I'm now the only child my parents have left. Her death is the reason why I'm so proud of myself for not allowing myself to slip back down into that depression pit. Honestly, I had to be a bit more selfish this time around. I've been there for my parents, of course, but I had to take safeguards to protect my own mental and emotional well-being. I think that's what saved me. I fought too hard to get where I am to give it all up again, and honestly? If I let depression consume me for another 7 years like last time, I would be 40 by the time I came out of it again. I'm not willing to give up the remainder of my youth, damn it.
As if all of that wasn't enough punishment, literally the DAY we buried Michelle's ashes next to Angeline in our family plot, we found out Sushi has advanced lymphoma. She's only 9 years old. She was given 2-3 months to live at the end of February, and thankfully she's still here. She's having more difficulties every day, but she's still happy and has a voracious appetite which we have been feeding to her heart's content. She gets steak in her dinners, ice cream every afternoon, and treats like sweet popcorn and homemade Rice Krispy treats at night because she has a huge sweet tooth. The vet told us to throw caution to the wind in that department, because it doesn't matter how fat she gets now. She's going to die before she'd ever become diabetic or have other health problems related to weight, so for now until the end we're giving her the best time a dog could ever ask for. At this point the vet is seeing her every two weeks, and I don't believe he's expecting her to make it until August. We're treasuring every day we have with her, because we all know that we're going to be absolutely devastated when the time comes and we lose her. This isn't fair. We should have had at least another five years with her.
After all of the hell I've been through I just didn't have it in me to do a big convention, so as a result I had to withdraw from A-Kon's artist alley for the first time in 13 years. I hope and plan to be back next year, because I'm not ready to give that up yet even though my body is starting to legitimately fail me now. I'm going to be 34 in September and I seriously do not know how much longer I'm going to be physically able to do conventions, so I'm going to keep enjoying it while I can until my body forces me to retire. It won't be without a fight first.
Soon it's just going to be me, my mom, my dad, and Bree (who is now 22 years old and living on her own up in Denton). My family has been decimated in the last 13 years, and it now makes me think of Lilo & Stitch:
This is my family.
It may be little, and broken,
but it's still good.