Why Nobody Trusts Anyone | Emotional Manipulation Is Not What You Think It Is
a cry for help and a lesson in one
I’m not sure how this question will be answered but I’m going to walk my way through this with you all who read in perpetuity.
That was a suicide threat in subtext.
I wrote that first line from my heart and chest and gut and subconscious to see it arrive that way and left it.
I’m not manipulating you if my honestly expressed sentiments make you have feelings. Everyone seems to think I’m being manipulative right now because my trauma spiral’s presentation, which could be painfully summed up as this...
Human needs affection and no one does anything but exploit that for their own gain—who could help. Woman needs someone to care for her, but nobody really sees her as a woman to begin with.
No cisgendered woman who needed help in our society would ever be left alone to do what I’m doing—especially with such innate and powerfully apparent value to the world; unacknowledged by all—I wonder why?
This has all gotten noticeably terrifying because it’s gotten to the point where I’m genuinely suicidal. So, at last it’s become pertinent to demand understanding on why nobody helps. I didn’t realize people were criticizing my communication of truthfulness so badly they thought I was a lying manipulator.
“You’re not going to kill yourself.”
Meanwhile. I’m having panic attacks figuring out finances. Crying about having nobody to hang out with. Feeling terrified that I’m going to lose all means of remaining livelihood to take care of my daughter and wondering what crazy thing is going to come out of my subconscious and kill me.
I’m unable to be helped by psychiatry because you can’t heal wounds with others by explaining it all to a third party for the half-dozenth time. I can’t pretend a hug from someone who is going to put me in more debt is anything close to the same as having people who really care.
That dead end offers drugs which take my mind away from my daughter, so I decided to fight and not be medicated and write therapy art made powerful. I learn from it. It helps.
Now I’m losing my mind because I’m so traumatized by the way nobody can give me affection and care to help me.
So, I’m being honest. Truthfully, painfully, frighteningly courageous and honest—as always—and begging for someone to help me because I want to die to a higher degree than ever. Hold my beer a second.
I’m at the last hair from being fired from my job—I’m in debt to my eyeballs and some—I haven’t even filed my taxes because the idea gives me a panic attack—I have unpaid toll bills which are uncountable—medical debt which is not the problem bigots would make it out to be (it’s the least expensive debt)—and a daughter I can barely afford to take care of but is the key and drive and purpose of my whole existence. My only choice as the hero I fucking am is to be honest. I was and am a healer of people and my services have been exploited by community to be disregarded as I transitioned because of bigotry. Plain and simple. Trans people are not understood with respect. Y’all microscope me. It’s a weird show. From the inside out it’s the most bizarre thing to witness. You’re all evil—by fucking definition. Then call me crazy for getting angry about it. Ask me to get help with a professional instead of stepping up to the plate to be human yourself.
That probably felt emotionally manipulative to some of you. That was unfiltered truth about how I feel—unfiltered.
It’s manipulative to change the representation of your emotions for trying to get a specific response. Who does that?
I am surrounded by emotional manipulating projectors. I was once one of you. Now that I’m not I am seen and treated holistically as a cancer. Especially because I’m transgender. Especially because of the fact I need the one thing people give trans people the least — respect. I make this art and write these things which are profound beyond belief and get no love, no respect, no trust. It’s all true to me and my feelings and people hear me saying I want to die and think — what?
FUCK YOU. Help me.
