Therapy was so goooooood today

The first thing I told my absolutely beautiful therapist was that I got drunk on one and a half litres of wine on Saturday, and I picked up my phone and called my dad. I couldn’t wait to tell her I’d forgotten to say hi, and she had to remind me to sit down. I have been no contact with my dad for so long, along with the rest of my family, both nuclear and extended. He was so happy to hear from me and was excited that his daughter was doing well. I also asked him not to tell my mum that I was talking to him again. If anything good came out of the text my “best friend” sent to her boyfriend, it is the fact that I got drunk and wanted to talk to family, and my dad was the first person to come to mind, and the interaction ended up healing me in some way.

I actually love that man (my dad, I mean). I spent so much of my life hating him because of what my mother told me about him. All the evidence I had about the badness of my dad was my mum’s stories. Fuck my mum! She made me think my dad practised witchcraft and was responsible for any misfortune that befell our lovely family. I hope she is doing well; however, she can thrive and do well far, far away from me. The thought of her being part of my life makes my skin crawl.

My sister likely thinks I am suffering and broke, and this kind of makes me want to laugh. Why did she send my friend a message asking whether I can pay my rent, and also asking for a picture of me? Lol! I sent her an email asking her to stop texting my friends and to leave me alone until I am ready to talk to her. This was my message:

I just want to be left alone. So, maybe respect that boundary until I am ready to speak to you and stop bothering my friends.

This was her response:

Ok. If you get stuck, call on the name of Jesus. I will respect your boundary and leave you in the hands of Jesus.

I cackled because all I could think of was me getting into trouble and shouting “JESUS”. As if something will happen after I do that. Perhaps, a human named Jesus might show up, but I doubt he will be the son of god that was crucified at Golgotha and resurrected after three days just for him to go back to heaven and leave the same shitty world behind. Fuck him! Imagine if I shouted “JESUS” and then some random dude named “JESUS” showed up in my living room and asked me “What is it you need my darling?” I answer, “I would like to exist in a non-corporeal and invisible state.” He then gives me the power and I live happily ever after being a menace to society.

Aaaah! I was actually supposed to be talking about therapy. I did a test for ADHD. I hope I will pass. I am also learning about boundaries, and my therapist suggested that I should stop smiling while setting boundaries because that is probably why people are not taking them seriously.

Anyway, I hope you all are having a week as lovely as mine.

Home » mental health

An acquaintance pissed me off

Edit: I promise I was just having a bad day. I am not always like this.

They asked me, “How are you doing?” With a grin, I replied, “I’m excited! Finally, the moment has arrived for my long-awaited ADHD test.”

Their response was, “Do you want medication, though? It might dim your light.”

Shouting in my mind – “FUCK YOU BITCH OR NON-BINARY HOE! (Not sure how you identify.) FUCK YOUR MAMA. WHAT DO YOU KNOW ABOUT ADHD FOR YOU TO SAY THAT! What on earth are you on about? I’m utterly baffled. You’ve had a front row seat to my struggles. Or do you simply tune me out? I’m lost in this conversation! It seems you view my constant battles as mere quirks. I’m completely burnt out from hiding my true self and I can’t afford to lose my job; it’s my lifeline. It must be lovely to have a functioning brain!”

Let me quickly channel Kendrick.

I hate the way that you walk, the way that you talk, I hate the way that you dress

I hate the way that you sneak diss, if I catch flight, it’s gon’ be direct

We hate the bitches you fuck, ’cause they confuse themself with real women

And notice, I said “we, ” it’s not just me, I’m what the culture feelin’

When I openly discuss my neurodivergent identity, I frequently encounter a defensive or even hostile response, particularly from individuals who have directly benefited from my madness. These same people, who have enjoyed my creative energy and innovative problem-solving, often exhibit a striking lack of empathy when I need to temporarily withdraw from social interactions. It’s as if they expect me to maintain a constant level of availability and responsiveness, without acknowledging the exhausting toll that socializing can take on someone with a neurodevelopmental disorder.

Then, when I do need to take a step back and prioritize my own well-being, these same individuals are often quick to judge me as a “terrible friend” or accuse me of being flaky or unreliable. My occasional disappearances are not a reflection of my commitment to our friendship, but rather a necessary coping mechanism to avoid emotional burnout. I’ve lost count of how many times I’ve heard comments like, “You just disappeared without telling anyone. I was worried about you!” – as if I somehow owe them a detailed explanation for taking care of my own mental health. And the explanation should be acceptable to them because recharging is not good enough.

Were you genuinely concerned about my well-being, or did you have an ulterior motive for reaching out to me while I was unavailable? Did you want to use my brain without having to deal with the complexities and challenges that come with them? It’s as if you want the benefits of me, while dismissing the drawbacks or difficulties that I face. GO TO HELL!

Prompesity to murder and other thoughts

My propensity to murder is a lot higher than usual today. I want to do to a few people what Thanos did to Loki in the first few minutes of Avengers: Infinity War. Why the fuck was the admin person asking me to do something that I had already done? I sent her the link with the information she needed exactly how she needed it. She did not open the link I sent her and assumed that I had half-arsed my task. Fuck her!!!

I also had therapy today. I talked to my therapist about my feelings towards my friend after I saw the text she sent to her boyfriend. She asked him to hurry up and come save her from my yapping. She was the only person in my life that I could still yap to. Now that I understand how she feels about my yapping, I won’t yap with anyone else any more. I’ll only share my thoughts with my therapist and my readers.

My workshop in Europe was the first time I felt mentally engaged in a long while. I was in a room with people that have doctorates in their fields and I have an undergraduate. For the first time in ages, I was with people smarter than me. This time, I didn’t feel the need to teach. Instead, I was the one learning. Oh, how I miss that feeling.

It’s 9 pm and I just got into bed. I haven’t recovered completely from my trip, so I want to sleep for a minimum of 8 hours. I need to go to the office tomorrow and act professionally. I might return here tomorrow. This is now my only way to clear my mind of troubling thoughts.

I changed my blog’s name yesterday. My sister, whom I cut off along with the rest of my family, might have found it. They were all really terrible. She keeps sending me emails about how she loves me and misses me. I read them, and however much I try to care, I find myself not giving a fuck. The thought of having her and my mum back in my life always gives me an anxiety attack. So, for the moment, I have declared them persona non grata from my wonderful life.

Cheers and see you tomorrow (maybe).

I just feel like writing anything

Coffee sometimes makes me feel invincible. Other times, it raises my heartbeat and anxiety rears its head.

I’m considering being nonverbal, except for work chats with colleagues.

Most of my interactions with men feel like emotional labor. This exhausts me.

There is a maybe-straight girl. She keeps calling me her soulmate and complimenting me. She also knows that I am queer and do not have relations with men anymore. I am not sure how I feel about this situation yet.

I have a male colleague. He is at the top of my list of energy vampires. It’s mostly because he won’t stop talking about a colleague who is a huge piece of shit. The crappy colleague is easy to handle by setting boundaries. But he just wants to complain. He knows how to fix his issues, but he won’t. (I am not shaming him. I just think he is avoiding doing the work because it will make him uncomfortable. This avoidance is at my expense. Now, I will set boundaries with him. I do not want to hear anything else about that piece-of-shit colleague.)

A lot of people think of me as their friend (after one conversation) when it is not the same on my part. There are only 3 people in my life that I can call my friends. As for the rest, I need to spend some more time with them before I can call them friends. I take breaks from society without telling anyone. Some people get pissed off and want nothing to do with me again. (This does not apply to my 3 friends.) I just realized that most of these non-friends might consider me the worst friend in the world.

I just remembered hanging out with this dude. I told him we couldn’t hang out for long because I had a work party after. The next statement that came out of his mouth was, “I am not going to drop you.” I smiled, wondering why he was declining to do something I had never asked him to do. LOL!

My paedo teacher

I have written a lot today. After enough ranting on Tumblr, I have come here to rant some more. It feels a lot safer than talking to anyone and anyway, the most stable relationship I have had in my life is with my brain. I always talk about my brain as though it is a separate entity. Do any of you feel the same too?

This rant will be about community. No, it won’t. I just realised that I haven’t internalised or processed whatever I would like to say or write about community so, we shall leave that for another day.

Today, let’s make a stop at the “Age 11” village on my trauma map:

When I was 11, my math teacher would call to the back of the class after class. he would be seated and I would be standing. He would then hold my waist and pull me close to him and then pounce on my lips for a very deep French kiss. This happened a couple of times and I never thought it to be a problem. Perhaps that was what happens when you are a perfect student and get all As, like a reward. One night, I mentioned it to one of my friends and she was horrified, she told me that I should report it and that she would take me and support me through the entire process. The next day, she and I went to the principal’s office, she held my hand the entire time and helped me whenever I couldn’t speak. When I was done, the paedophile was called into the office. That piece of shit in true paedophile fashion denied everything and my friend and I were thoroughly whipped. if you grew up with African parents, you definitely know what I mean when I say ‘thoroughly whipped’. Gladys, wherever you are, I would like to say, “Thank you for being my strength that day. Thank you for still being my friend and trusting me even after you got punished for it. I have and will always remember and think of you. I hope all the little girls out there find their own Gladys.” Gladys was blamed for negatively influencing me to lie solely because I was a top student and she was always close to the bottom. I still have hate in my heart for that paedophile and principal.

I learnt a lesson that day. The lesson was that I should allow men to do with my body as they will because if I don’t I will be punished. My body count is really high thanks to this.

I went to therapy guys and I don’t think like that anymore and I can also draw dicks of all shapes, sizes and colours. Then I turned 30 and realised that I love women and I am gay as hell.

Till we meet again. Mwaah!

[I wanna start calling myself PawsitivelyMeaow. Should I?]

Am I going MAD!!!!

I wanna cut off my tits and uterus and give them to someone that actually needs them but I am broke and no doctor will remove my uterus until I turn 35 because I guess I will be a fossil then and no male will want my eggs anymore. I want to scream my heart out at the top of a mountain. My finances are shit because I spent money hanging out with people that I do not like that much (I used to like them but not anymore) drinking alcohol that I did not want to drink and now 5 days after the alcohol drinking, I am still having anxiety and feeling ashamed of myself.

Unmasking is hard. I realised that all the friends I have are people who approached me and stayed because I never really chased them away. Now, I am dealing with learning how much they enjoy the positives of my brain but punish me for all the negatives.

I guess to them I am just seeking attention with this white people’s disease. How can I be autistic when I have been able to function in society for the past 32 years. Well, welcome to masking. Thank you for dismissing my experience while making me feel like the only way I can keep you in my life is if I continue masking.

The only difference between my masked and unmasked self is that when I was masked, I was alone with people but now, I am alone with myself. I like being alone with myself.

I am typing real fast hoping to let out all the word diarrhoea that is coming out of my head in the hopes that I will feel a lot less anxious but all that is happening so far is me being aware of what I am feeling but still an anxious human.

Well, therapy is expensive, so, here I am ranting….and also, therapists are humans and sometimes, they fail to separate their beliefs from their practice which I have found to be very dangerous.

Anyway, I hope y’all are having a better day than me. Thanks for reading my rant. When you read it, I felt like I was being hugged all the way back in Nairobi Kenya. Toodle. Mwaah!

I am not equipped to handle you in your current state

Sunday morning

Babe: “Hey, babe! Do you want to watch Spiderman tomorrow morning?”

Me: “Yes, I would love to. It will be a nice way to spend my last day on holiday before getting back to work”

Monday morning

I am awake by 7 am. I start preparing at a snail’s pace. The movie starts at 10 am so I should be out of the house by 9 am. I check on him via text and he responds confirming the date.

I make it to the mall in time. I carried Machiavelli’s The Prince so I could keep myself busy in case I got there before him. He showed up a few minutes after me so I was only able to read a few sentences which I would have to reread when I get back home because I notice that there is too much in my head and I feel sad yet I do not know why.

As soon as I see him, I smile then stand up to meet him halfway and hug him as he plants a little kiss on my lips. We walk to the counter to buy our tickets, hot dogs, popcorn and fizzy drinks. I notice that I did not carry my 3D glasses. I ask the cashier how much a pair costs. My babe tells me to hold up a bit because he might have carried two pairs of glasses. He checks his bag just to realize that he carried 0.

“Babe, will you also get me a pair?” He asks and I agree to get him a pair. I get my debit card and give it to the cashier. He charges my card, I key in my pin and take my card, the 3D glasses that I just bought and my receipt. I look at my receipt and I see the cashier has charged everything on my card, the tickets, food and glasses. At this point, my babe starts walking away from the counter and cancels the mobile money payment process that he had begun on his phone.

I follow babe and we sit as we wait for our movie to start in about 15 minutes. I notice that he is a lot more touchy and keeps telling me how much he loves me. He said more “I love you”s in 15 minutes than he ever has in a week (I have to make it clear that this is not hyperbole). My biggest concern right now is “why don’t I want to tell him that I love him back?” and is this normal to him given that I always tell him that I love him back???

After the movie, we go to his place to have lunch. He tries getting me naked but I am not into it so we settle for cuddling. He asks me to spend the night and I tell him that I can’t because I have to be in the office quite early the next day. Our food is delivered. We get out of bed, and he helps me dress up and recognises my depressed demeanour which I stupidly apologise for and was immediately disgusted with myself for doing it.

While having lunch, I ask him about traffic and what time would be great for me to go home if I did not want to deal with traffic. He mentions that 4 pm and 8 pm are the best times. I choose 8 pm because I generally prefer darkness. That was when he said, “I think you should leave right now because I am not equipped to handle you in your current state.”

I left indeed…..I left physically, mentally, emotionally, psychologically, spiritually and sexually.

It all went downhill after “sploosh! frothy loins”

Tinder might be a great way for me to talk to people other than the two constant friends I have in my life. I sign up and upload pictures of my beautiful face that I consider cool. I pay for a subscription because I am curious with regards to knowing who has swiped me right. They might just be my type of weird.

After a few days of swiping, I match with Michael. He does not have a picture of himself, but I did like the artwork that he used in place of his face.

The first thing he said to me was “From your taste in music, I can already tell that I will like you”. This intrigues me immediately because he is the second human I have met who knows the names Thomas Bergesen, Brian Tyler, Hans Zimmer, Soundcritters, Two Steps from Hell, Efisio Cross, Alan Silvestri, Steve Jablonsky etc. I am glad to have connected my Spotify to tinder.

We talk about music from the movies that we enjoy. He spoke about nostalgic ecstasy in reference to his listening to music that used to be his favourite at some point. I borrowed the phrase “nostalgic ecstasy” and renamed one of my playlists from “nostalgia” to “nostalgic ecstasy”. This is a list of songs that I listened to at some point in my life and drained the songs off all their neurotransmitters.

We chat about Christopher Nolan, reading, and writing. We talk about my blog Kyllan and Chebet, I share the link with him, he asks to be included in my adventures with Kyllan and Konan. I agree and draft a story that introduces Michael to the family.

He once called me “my fair maiden” and I stupidly responded to that with “sploosh! frothy loins”. At this point, he debates whether to be quaint and proper or unleash his wildest fantasies on me. He chose to go with the latter. It was at this point that I realised I had fucked up.

So, I did what I always do whenever I freak out. I deleted tinder and moved on with my life and made peace with speaking to only 3 people: my two friends and me.

A few days later, I get a comment on the blog post that introduced Michael to the family. The comment was of concern. He was afraid that he might have lost me and he included his email address where I could reach him.

I reached out via email and we exchanged numbers. The ensuing days included an exchange of messages that had me permanently horny and smiling. This dude whose face I had never seen was stirring up emotions in me that I had not felt in a very long time. He asked if he could invite me to go work in his offices on one of the days that I would be working from home. We had to cancel this because my country had elections around that time and we have a history of post-election violence. Safety was key.

A few days after the elections and everything looked peaceful, he had a free afternoon and asked if we could hang out. I tell him that I was working from a restaurant and that he can come to join me there and we can have coffee. I was not as excited about this as I thought I should be. After telling him to join me at the restaurant, he responds “I was thinking more of cuddles and watching movies at your place.”

My vagina has never dried up so fast. I responded with a single “NO”. I then proceeded to delete his number and do some research on him. Our lovely Michael is actually called Victor and he doesn’t look like the kind of dude I would be attracted to if only looks is what we were going for. I quickly deleted the blog post that introduced Michael to the family and deleted all our correspondence (emails and text messages). My mind went on overdrive. Did he think that I was going to allow a strange man into my bed, all over my space and touching my skin? What if he cuddles me to death? What if he is a petty thief? He could be a serial killer. He must be a whore to think that it was okay for him to suggest that. He probably has a lot of unprotected sex. Eww! I am disgusted just thinking about it.

He sent a message a few days later apologizing for thinking that it was okay to want to come to my house just like that. He also asked if our relationship was damaged beyond repair. I responded with a single “YES”. He then sent an essay which basically was another apology, him saying that it was a privilege knowing me, that he is mad at himself for spoiling things, that he respects me and that he will never bother me again. I didn’t respond to this one.

A few days later, he bothered me again while I was on my eighth tequila shot. I don’t remember what I said to him but he has never bothered me again. He’s since been successfully deleted from my life.

In retrospect, things went downhill after “sploosh! frothy loins”. I will not be saying that to men ever again.

Saved by a drugie

I am using drugie as a term to mean somebody that uses hard narcotics but is not an addict. Is there an official term for that? Comment if there is one.

High enough (on Absolut Vodka) that I am looking at my keyboard to make sure that I am typing the correct thing. I am a lot slower at typing than usual. I have also been confused by the fact that the font I am using has small caps “L” and caps “i” looking the same. I also just checked to make sure that I did not throw the cigarette filter/butt on my carpet. Yes, I am smoking in the house and spraying lavender air freshener afterwards because I cannot stand the smell of cigarettes when I am hangover (a condition I anticipate to have tomorrow). I am just glad that I can actually type. If this article is shit, I will delete it as soon as I wake up hoping that I will actually remember that I posted something. Hopefully, it wont become one of those posts where I delete everything midway and decide not to post (I do this a lot). I was once told that I exist in the wrong continent because of the things I write about and I think that statement affected me more than I would like to admit. Are there specific things I should aviod writing about because I am African? Currently listening to Gary Barlow’s Back For Good. This will be relevant at some point, I promise. Give me a moment to convert the song to mp3 so I can listen to it on loop using VLC player.

I got to go pee then will be back.

I am now back. Don’t you love the JLS harmonies?

My neighbour gave me something called crystals a few days ago. It was a very little portion mixed in my Tanquery gin. She gave me a quarter the crystals of what she had (she crashed them into powder first). She was very happy after taking it (about 45 minutes after taking it) and our two people party ended because she got horny and went to fuck my other neighbor, which I encouraged her to do because she asked to kiss me more that once. I said no even though I wanted to kiss her back. Not sure why I did that. She is attractive and we happen to like a lot of the same things. Food for thought, I guess.

I was talking to a religious practitioner yesterday. He told me about how most humans are okay with giving themselves to something that takes control of them. This is what I have been doing all week; drinking vodka and being in another world. Since he is a Christian pastor (I think. He is very rational compared to other religious people that I have interacted with), he specifically talked about church. He said to me that people in church give themselves to the pastor and to the worship team. I give myself to alcohol. My neighbor gives herself to crystals (I still do not know the chemical composition but I will let you know as soon as I figure that out). Do we all, every once in a while just want to give control of our lives to something other than ourselves be it religion, drugs, work etc (pick your poison)?

He (the religious practitioner) mentioned that I always excelled at being free which turned me into the villain of the family (he has known me since I was little. I have also always done what I want when I want and I avoid showing weakness as much as I can). I didn’t realize that this is what the world saw in me because I have not felt free or in control this past week. I called all my friends (5 of them) before deciding to do something drastic. I thought that if my life ended, I would be free of the suffering. I just have to stop existing and I would be okay. I ended up at my neighbour’s because I needed someone to talk to and all my friends were unavailable. Thought of ending my life but became a pussy when it got to actually doing it. I think I like living, even when I am at low points, I am happy that I still choose life :).

I am smoking again after three months of taking a break. The head rush feels different. I am not sure where my head is at. Work is perfect, I got into my dream school in London and I am getting along with most of my immediate family. So, what the fuck is wrong?

While talking to my neighbor, she hugged me and thanked me for randomly showing up at her house. She thought talking to me made her feel much better. It may sound stupid but if one person felt better because I was just there to listen, then maybe my existence is somewhat of use.

I am not getting as high as I would like to be but I guess it works for my typing. I also realise, this was my last resort because sometimes, I get a few comments that are actually uplifting. (I just looked at my ceiling and was staring right at my chandelier. If it broke, part of it would pass through my right eye and that would be a complication that I choose not to think about right now. I clearly am not courting death).

Time to chat with my demons

Untitled

So, I feel like drowning myself in water. Not deep water, shallow water. I love being underwater. Shit looks so cool under here.” I wanna drown just a little. I do not want to die. I like to think that the universe still needs me alive. I just want to feel something to remind my self of my humanity. Just getting naked and pretending to drown me in water. I always feel some kind of freedom in nudity. Skinny dip underwater a little hoping that my neighbors are not at home.

I need a different environment from the real world. My reality is quickly metamorphosing into a figment of my imagination. Perhaps I’ll see things clearly if I get to that point of near death and have my life flash right before my eyes. I wonder what it is that I will see when this happens. This crappy feeling I have is driving me crazier than I am used to. I feel nothing at all and this worries me as I could be turning into a psychopath. I am finding it really hard to handle this madness. Cutting myself has not been working so far. I need something bordering on the extreme. I am kinda always crazy, it just never gets to this point. I might need a psychiatrist. This is a point where I drink the whole day and watch the extremely violent action and horror movies… I myself even know that I need help as soon as possible. Action movies are the most awesome part. The movies are even cooler to watch when I am high. I question whether it is the alcohol that is making me inebriated. It is definitely the alcohol though because I am fucking indifferent to everything else.

My life is just sad. “Do you want a drink? You can join me. I could really use a buddy right now even though I feel like I do not need one. I am starting to be a hazard to myself” Let’s go crazy together. The reason for going crazy…… I ain’t really sure. “Not sure?” “Yes yes yes.” I lack words to explain. I have no clue how I got to this point. I have this feeling. Crappy it is. I kinda like it. It’s a new one, I have never felt this one. I want it to go. I miss the normal me.

I actually regret visiting that last therapist I had. I now remember. Everything began going downhill after I visited her. I did exactly what she told me and one month later, this is me, about to drown myself. I thought to talk to a stranger who knew nothing about me would help but it just made things worse.

I should in back to handling my shit and fixing things. It works for me. It mostly involves self-destruction which is just as bad as that therapist. I wish I had everything in my life figured out. My demons just love me too much. They do not want to go away. Every once in a while I make love to my demons which are exactly what I should do.

Pretending to be okay is having a debilitating effect on me. Fuck this…… I will just walk to a random citizen and go like, “The smile on my face doesn’t mean am happy, it just means I’m way too drunk to change my expression and I would like you to slap me back to reality.”