The Loss of Hope

Over It

I want to be very clear: I should be happy. For the first time in, well, ever, people are actually hearing me when I say that there is a problem. I have an ultrasound scheduled for next week, I get to talk to a dentist soon and I am finally, finally able to get my health and wellness in order. These are all good things, the best news. And I would have been ecstatic about it…seven years ago. Because seven years ago, I ran from doctor to doctor asking them to run all of the tests for thyroid disorders. I begged, I screamed, I cried and then, I became resigned.

A Rant

It’s just frustrating because I knew. I KNEW! While others were dedicated to telling me that I just wasn’t motivated enough, that I was lazy, my body was, possibly, attacking the thing that was supposed to keep me energetic. Considering most of the advice that I received was to, essentially, burn out until I make it, finding out that I have been burned out since at least 11 is wild and annoying.

What up, Doh!

I just wanted to let you all know that there are Two (2) new episodes of the podcast up. You should listen to them!

Apple Link

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Spreaker RSS feed

Did you miss last week’s episode?

Well, it was about abortion, so I’m not shocked. But it is a story this week, so I you should pop over and listen!

RSS feed

Apple link

Spotify

New episode alert

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Apple link

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This week is another rambler. I will be discussing how I processed the intersectional framing of the war in Ukraine and, more specifically, how people responded to it.
Find me on:
TikTok – ok.thee.zomby
Twitter – ophieoNo

NEW EPISODE ALERT

This week, I talk about a movie that has shaped my life significantly: Penelope.

Even though I could talk about this movie for centuries, I focus on how this is a fat liberation movie, despite having any fat rep.

Take a listen!

Apple Link

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We back!!

And with a new format! Have a listen!!

Trigger warning for this episode for suicide ideation as well as ED talk.

But this episode, we discuss the value that I was forced to place in certain things and how that manifests in life in general.

Theme music is Fish on Land by Blood Red Sun

New episode on spotify

New episode on Apple Podcast

Regular url for new episode

Okay, so new podcast episode posted

The two gentlement being referenced in the episode are here

And, as stated, while one claims to be well meaning and the other not, they are still singing the same song.

Here’s the link to the episode, or you can go to apple or Spotify, links on the link page

“Benevolent” Fatphobe

Yellowjackets review

Yellowjackets review

So attached is the podcast for the Yellowjackets review I did, but if you don’t want to listen, this is the overarching point.

https://twitter.com/ophieoNo/status/1488996020402987008?t=3PocMpiK4T76DpMKUzVQNw&s=19

And so begins it

There is a fictional version of myself in my head that is tethered to the memories of what I believe many others want me to be. She has been a thorn in the base of my neck for as long as I can remember, and I could not, no matter how hard or long I have tried, could not even touch the hem of her potential.
And, for that, I have decided to put the idea if her to rest. For a lot of reasons, but the main one was that I was trying to be everything to everyone around me and I expected everyone to do the same.
And they did. And I got bitter.
But the truth was *I* was the one who decided to offer myself on a platter to be picked at. I made my personality as the most personable person to ever people, no one did that for me but me. I decided to stretch myself so thin that I was mostly cracks. I ran the battery out on this body. I held on to relations long after they expired, I was the one who could not move on with their life, I am the one collecting failures hoping, praying, one day, someone hears the screams.
But no one is responsible for that but me.
I put all these holes in the landscape to make flowerpots and now, I have to fill them up again. I have to turn the supposed kindness that I have shown to others inwards. I have to make a garden out of empty holes which, yes, will be difficult, but it will be for me. For once. But it also means that I will have to start letting go.
And THAT, is the battle.

You will make a good wife

Every time that my parents tell me that I will make a suitable cumrag for some man, I wonder how uncouth it would be for me to crack my sternum and bleed out. Whenever the prospects of my romantic future is brought up, it is always in the context of how someone will get to enjoy: I will bear my mother grandchildren, I have curves in all the right places, therefore my husband will enjoy fucking me, etc. They also lament the past, all of the men that could have made this a reality far earlier. Another hand on the leash of their prizes cow.
It might be the reason that I am afraid of losing weight. If I do, then more eyes will be on me, and they will not hesitate to sell me to anyone with a passable income for breeding. And you would think that I would trust my family to care about my mental and emotional well being, but I don’t. I write this because I am tired of explaining. If they are unable to see how their words would have a negative impact, then I am in no position to explain it to them.
It’s not like they would listen anyway.

I often wonder if this would be the case if I did everything right. If I became a doctor instead of a degenerate. And I keep coming up with the same answer: no. I was a filler child, a place holder for parental guidance until the once and future offspring arrived and, when they did, I was to disappear. My continued presence is an affront my need for compassion a nuisance. Since I continue to be, if I am not producing revenue, than I need to extend the bloodline.

But I failed. I have not expired and I am not popping out offspring like fireworks. Perhaps the knowledge of this is why I continually shove food down my throat to like some sort of doughcap: holds down venom, bile, and the realization that I will have to untangle myself from my family to breath freely. Mayhaps it is also the reason I reject all forms of attraction, or even the exploration of my identity.