I finally know why the bloggers who started blogging young grow up and disappear off the face of the planet. They didn’t necessarily make a conscious decision; it just…happened. In the midst of figuring out a lot of shit the education system failed to teach them, their blog was forgotten and abandoned. Either the domain/hosting renewal emails went unopened as their inbox piled up with junk, real life bills, and sales emails they only got because they wanted that one-time 10 percent off discount or they just couldn’t afford it because the cost of living rose while minimum wage remained at the same bare minimum it’s been at for over a decade.
Or they became mothers and lost themselves in the poosplosions, doctor’s appointments, marriage — life itself got in the way, priorities changed.
I’ve concluded that, if other things “keep getting in the way” and there is “never enough time to blog”, then blogging isn’t in the cards. With social platforms like TikTok and Instagram, which are booming right now, digital content creation is more accessible to the people who favored the messy ish over that creamy, white “pure” Insta-worthiness of the 2010s.
If it’s ever not fun anymore, I’ll stop — blogging, whatever. I’ll stop blogging before I stop creating. Through TikTok, I realized I’m so in love with videography…I never would have thunk I could’ve learned it through experimentation alone, but the value of college and university degrees is decreasing. People are learning elsewhere at a faster pace and lower price point — no student loans required. Pay-to-play culture exists in the college environment; girlboss culture originates from rich white women paying a rich white man to get famous enough to start their own cults they’d call “tribes”, the members of which being girlbosses.
I don’t spend a lot of time on my laptop anymore.
When I realize this, I’ll look at it and feel guilty. I should update my blog. I should work on blog posts. I should do something on my laptop instead of watching TV.
The most I’ve used my laptop for in the last two months is creating spreadsheets — budgeting, grocery shopping, meal planning, the furnishing budget for my next apartment.
The itch to blog about those things is alive and well, but I don’t have the words or experience yet to share about them — so talking too much about my Google Sheets would be flat over easy and pretentious side up.
I literally tore everything I built down, like paper, just so I could build it back up.
A manager who wasn’t even my manager made me choose between my eating disorder recovery and my job — so I clocked out at the end of my shift one day and considered that quitting.
I did attempt to get my job back, but even with a new store manager HR person and personal boundaries, I high-key feel the aforementioned manager had played a part in speaking to the new HR person about me. The HR person at the store I work at now (still Walmart) said I came highly recommended, with every referral raving about me.
This position pays $16/hr, $5 more than I’d have made at my old position — which I lost a lot of gas over.
Briefly, I was a Domino’s delivery driver. I wanted to get to know the city I lived in, so what better way to do that? It was fine temporarily, but they kept dead-naming me, which was a trigger for my dissociative identity disorder (DID). They also didn’t train me properly, and the work culture was anti-neurodivergent. 10/10 do not recommend, ever. I don’t even order from there anymore, for the food always makes me sick.
In regard to relationships, I still manage to lose pieces of myself in attempt to be likeable.
Women-loving-women (WLW) my age tend to already have children or don’t want any children. Ever since I knew what it was, I knew I was going to adopt a child. I was gonna be a mom. It wasn’t a goal or a dream — it was just this purpose I accepted about myself, the same way I knew I was going to have to endure abuse until I burned some bridges.
Sometimes there’s a woman on a dating app, and we vibe extremely well, and then she says she doesn’t want kids. Or more kids.
Or there’s a woman I’m extremely attracted to, but she is child-free, whether she personally hates kids or not.
I do think a lot of it, at least in lesbian culture, has to do more with the stigma of adopting kids you know not the origin of and less about having blood children — and even carrying the kid. Like, I’m tokophobic, but not a lot of people know that it is the irrational fear of pregnancy and all that which pertains to pregnancy.
But I have always pictured myself as a mom, raising a kid with a female friend, mostly because I only accepted my gayness about four years ago.
I can jokingly say shit like, “I’m never having kids,” and, “This is why I’m never having kids.” There are even times when I don’t feel that I could put up with having a kid.
The joy I feel about having baby-related things in my apartment — and toddler clothes — extends far beyond being a DID system and/or having baby cousins spend the night.
If it does not happen for me, then it’s not in the cards for me. But it feels like it is.
Most recently, I’m learning the importance of hobbies.
Miniatures are my love. I want, and am going to, build a miniature mall and grocery store for miniature brands and products!
I also want to play with stop-motion animation involving miniatures and Barbies, to learn the trade and determine whether I truly want to create a stop-motion animation series before I put in the work of building the sets.
Stim-dancing and dancing in general made their way into my near-daily routine the same way masturbation made its way into my weekly life.
Making time for hobbies and actually investing in them is not a crime. They’re not required to earn any kind of income — they’re hobbies.
I don’t read every. single. day — and that’s okay.
I now know who I am outside of work, family and life admin
I’m a great employee.
I know who my family expects me to be and that I often dissociative around them because I am a DID system and the familial relationship is not there.
I also know how I am with life admin management — money, laundry, household chores, meals, etc.
None of that was who I was, as a person; they’re just identities or things I do.
I also needed to accept myself as — and familiarize myself with being — a dissociative identity disorder system.
Blogging is definitely something I’m still into, but I don’t want to do it the same way anymore because it’s not fun. I don’t know what this means for the future.