[ SECRET POST #4994 ]

[case]

⌈ Secret Post #4994 ⌋

Warning: Some secrets are NOT worksafe and may contain SPOILERS.


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Notes:

Secrets Left to Post: 02 pages, 26 secrets from Secret Submission Post #715.
Secrets Not Posted: [ 0 - broken links ], [ 0 - not!secrets ], [ 0 - not!fandom ], [ 0 - too big ], [ 0 - repeat ].
Current Secret Submissions Post: here.
Suggestions, comments, and concerns should go here.

Comments

Re: Vent thread

[(Anonymous)]

Both of these make me sound like an immature high schooler even though I'm old enough to be the parent of one, but here goes:

I had possibly the heaviest period of my life last week and realized as I was doing laundry that I probably bled on my coworker's car when she was nice enough to give me a lift home. Now I don't know how to a) bring it up at all b) apologize. Do I just give her $100 and say "hey sorry I bled on your upholstery?" Idk.

This next makes me sound like an ass. My housemate, who I've known since we were toddlers, who I consider a surrogate sister, has her life way more in order than I do mine, and has since leaving high school. Recently, she's been getting in shape and losing weight, and started seeing a nice guy. She's had maybe one serious boyfriend her whole life and they broke up on bad terms, so I'm hoping this one stays nice and does not turn out to be a freeloading jerk and attempted rapist like the previous asshole. Also a trifle worried about COVID exposure since she's had him over at the house and neither wore masks.

But I'm still jealous because I'm mentally fucked up and have never had a romantic relationship, dated, had sex, or hell, even held hands with anyone, and I've been overweight since I hit puberty.

My reaction to being touched is to panic and it takes work not to deck people that startle me by doing so, and I'm probably somewhere on the ace spectrum. I'm paranoid about people who are kind to me and assume they must want to take advantage of me somehow. Even though I've had sole control over what and how much I eat for decades now, restricting what and how much I eat still triggers panic attacks and binge eating.

It's not my housemate's fault that my brain is so many different varieties of fucked up, or that she managed to come out of her abusive upbringing so much more functional than I did mine.

And I know damn well that I'm being irrational and by next week my hormones will have evened out and none of this (okay except bleeding on coworker's car) will bother me.