MOOP!

So it helps, I think, that even though New Years is an incredibly important holiday to me, it is also one that is already badly fragmented and does not have any consistent rituals to it. Because The New Years Party had its last year a decade ago, and the time since has been split between the small little shindigs and the almost-good-enough sprawl of Hogmanay.

(that is not to say that Hogmany is not utterly amazing --it is a wonderful event and I genuinely adore it and it's really wonderful and fantastic as its own thing. But my brain is never quite going to forget my childhood enough to let me view any New Years Party as completely independent. Hence: almost-good-enough.)

But yes! For the last decade-ish, I've been bouncing back and forth year-to-year between mom and Hogmanay which means that...there...isn't a set New Years ritual that always happens. There's at least two, and they cross over with each other a little bit (I call the boyfriends who are far away to wish them a kiss) but they're not the same and so...I'm already used to that.

It made this year easier, let me fuckin' tell you.

Because right, I'm in the global bad place that we're all in right now, and obviously if you saw yesterday's trainwreck of a post you know that I specifically am in a not-great place, and then here we come to one of the holidays I really give a shit about and I'm spending it with no one but my roommates who I love but have seen every single day for many hours for basically the last ten months without a break.

But...I...don't have things to miss? Not in the same way as Christmas, where there are rituals to maintain like eating grapefruit and early morning talks with Alys. All the stuff I am missing from being home with mom, well, I'd miss that any year I was at Hogmanay instead. All the stuff I'm missing from my big sprawling dance family, well, I'd miss that any year I was in Texas. All the bellringing that happens for first night, well, I've pretty much resigned myself to being triple booked and never making that happen ever anyways.

So this year I just took all the things I would usually miss and combined them into one pile and yeah, I miss them all, sure. But I spent a lot of time on Discord with the bellringers, and a short time on zoom with the Hogmanay folks (I successfully sang Auld Lang Syne with the crowd and then turned off my camera --a thing I find verboten with zoom because I'm a teacher and I know how badly it sucks to not have cameras on-- in order to sob deeply into my arms for a moment).

And this year I'm not going to fall asleep wrapped in the arms of someone I love¹ but shit, that's happened before and I do have Emily the elephant and Lazarus and Lemonsnout and Fat Steggy and Beatriz and Carey-Ann and CathyDoll and the whole squad of smolfriends (Boris, Cardamom, trans-thulu, Lowell, Nelly) and like...as a grown ass adult, if I want to fall asleep on New Years Eve in a pile of well loved stuffed animals that is 100% my prerogative and it's gonna be awesome yanno?

The dividing line between the years seems so much smaller right now, because like...we have fixed so little of the fundamental problems that made 2020 bad. But the shift always does mean hope, and that's a good thing. Maybe tomorrow I'll think of longer term goals and wishes for the future and a summary of what I'm trying to work on in my life, but right now I'm happy to just go wash the fun makeup off and smile about still being able to see people I love, from tens and thousands of miles apart.

Often on New Years, I give kisses to the people around me --very few on the lips these days² but lots on the cheek. If that's a thing that would feel nice to you, you may assume I've given you one. It's a wish for the future! For a better future than right here.

Do what you can to make the future better, okay? I love you and hope you're well.

~Sor
MOOP!

1: This statement is a lot more complicated than it sounds right now, unfortunately.

2: I am positive for HSV-1, which is the oral herpes that 60-90% of the adult population of the US tests positive for. I try to be cautious with this.

So here is a story that I haven't gotten around to telling, but I promised myself a couple months ago I would when a certain photo of me got posted to a certain blog. It is the story of a small purple elephant, patterned with jungle animals.

Her name is Emily.

( Trigger Warning: sexual and emotional abuse. It's also kinda long. )

***

There is a photo project called Project Unbreakable, in which a young woman named Grace documents survivors of sexual abuse holding up quotes from their abusers. I am a part of the project now. And if you look close at my photo, you'll notice that I am holding a small
purple
elephant
patterned with jungle animals.

Who is no longer lost forever.

~Sor
MOOP!

A couple of PostScripts, which are important to read:

I haven't mentioned this in a while, but if you know who my abuser is, please don't share that information. With anyone. It is a public fact that I was abused, and you may spread it as seems relevant, but it is definitely not a public fact who performed the abuse. I have made my peace with them. If you talk to them about me, or to other people about them, then I might be forced into contact with them (it has happened before), or their safety might become compromised. Seriously, don't. There is a time and place for gossip, I am begging for it not to be this.

Do not hurt my abuser. Not physically, not verbally, not emotionally. Do not threaten them. Do not proclaim the terrible things you will do to them should you ever find yourself in a dark alley. I do not believe in vengeance and I DO NOT appreciate white knights trying to "protect" or "avenge" me. If you are scared by my stories, and want to set the world straight, do it by fighting rape culture as a whole. You will accomplish nothing good, and very likely a *lot* of bad if you try to fight my battles for me, especially when it's a battle I emphatically do not want to be fought, not now, not ever.

Basically, don't be a dick and we'll get along fine.

Trigger Warnings both ways, sexual and emotional abuse.