Seriously??

I went to fix the coffee for Mum and Dad, so they just have to turn on the pot tomorrow. In the pantry, I noticed a slip cover from the anime I just purchased. There are only two ways that it could have gotten there. Either I put it there, or my mother did. I'm sure it was in my ROOM this morning. Either that or the trash. So my mother had taken it out of the trash and put it on the pantry shelf. (The garbage is nearby. Its the pantry/laundry/etc.) Either way, she took it with the intention of having a little chat with me about how she feels its objectionable.

Lets male one thing very clear right here and right now. I am going to be THIRTY YEARS OLD in July. Thirty! She seriously cannot be doing this anymore. I hate that she watches B-rated sci-fi flicks, I find them annoying, and often vulgar. Add to it that they always make women seem to be idiots and you have a film I hate. I don't go badgering her!

To avoid the issue, I took it back and have every intention of disposing of it away from my house! Its so stupid that I have to do this. She already made me throw away Live Free or Die Hard. She didn't like that words and phrases such as "son of a bitch", "damnit", and "bastard" were in it. Its not like it was every word or anything. Beside, I am an adult. I can make decisions for myself. Now I have to hide things.

I'm now concerned that she will read my journal. The handwriting is terrible but there is a possibility that the odd phrase could be discerned. This is a risk I am unwilling to take. So... I will have to hide my journal. I don't worry about the computer. Its password protected and she's tech stupid anyway.

If I'm very lucky, she won't remember where she put it and will be unwilling to ask me anything about it. It'll just vanish and the anime will not be easily found so she won't be able to check the spine of the disc. I seriously hope that I don't have to start locking my damned door again.

This set me off. I've been fighting back the Fury and the Abyss for weeks. Now? Now I just want to give in and injure. I seriously have been trying hard, but the last few weeks have been hard to handle for so many reasons.

I don't feel good enough, like I'm not the person I should be. That I should be happy, there isn't too much fucked up with my life. But the depression never goes away and things like this just push me so close the edge. I want to harm and be done with it. I know full well it won't help, not in the long run, but that isn't important to me right now. At this moment, I want to feel semi-stable.

I really did not need this. Thanks, Mum...

Assertive vs Bitchy

What is it about me? There must be something that makes freaks and drunks think that I am willing to be touched or talked to. So here's what happened: I went karaoke with some friends handed my songs to the KJ (karaoke jocky). A drunk was "dancing", if the moves he was making could be mistaken for dance, and kept backing into me. Thinking he didn't see me, I pushed his back *between the shoulder blades and no where near his ass* to let him know I was there. His response? Oh to come closer of course! I pushed again. Third time? That isn't a charm, its a "I will kick your sorry back side from here to the curb!" I shoved him away from me, pressing my fist into his back hard. That was the clue he needed.

Next, I had finished singing my first song, one that I am rather good at, thank you very much, and I received some adoration from another drunk. "You were really great, I love that song and you were amazing," he tells me. I thank him, trying to twist out of his awkward side hug. "No, I mean it,you were great!" I look him in the eye, "Thank you, now stop touching me." He backs away, apologizing for trying to be nice.

This is what amazes me. When a man says 'no' or 'back off', he is being assertive. When a woman does the same thing, she is called a bitch. When she tried to be polite and then has enough of a man's advances and tells him in clear English to back off, she's called a tease or a tart. WHY IS THIS OK?!?!

I really am getting sick and tired of being told that I need to be nice and whatever only to have some drunk ass bastard start thinking that I am being a flirt. Honestly, I do not engage the drunks, ever! They have lost all ability to think clearly thanks to the effects of alcohol. Apparently, my ignoring them is considered a challenge, one that far too many are all too willing to take on. When I make is abundantly clear that I have no desire to be touched, I'm called a bitch and made out to be an unfriendly woman.

I'm nice, I'm friendly! I just have zero tolerance for stupidity and drunks.

The whole thing made me so angry. Beyond angry, I was ready to slam my fist into the next person that laid a finger on me. Instead, I went to the bathroom, made sure I was alone, and slammed my left fist into the wall. Now my knuckles are bruised.

I love hanging out with my friends, even if it is in a situation that I find difficult. I find this is good practice for me to maintain my cool and not bloody panic. Sometimes, I even have fun. But seriously? It would be awesome if the drunks would leave me the hell alone and not think of me as a challenge.

While I'm thinking about it... why don't my friends ever seem to come to my rescue as I do them? I'm always alone. Always. 

The Brain is Messed Up Organ

I don't want to be awake. I'd rather be sleeping and not having to think about anything. Not about how my failures as a daughter, as a person, as anything. I have zero motivation. There are so many things that need to be done. I have to finish: Two cross stitch patterns, a knit shawl, handful of books. I also need to get jewelry made to sell in my etsy shop. Zero traffic in the shop. Mostly because I have not the faintest idea of what I'm doing. I can make it, but I'm having a hard time selling.

I'm never going to be good enough for anything am I? Certainly, not good enough for my own standards. Damn it. DAMN IT!

Fighting the urge to injure right now, I want to, if for no other reason then to make the emotions tangible. I'm wanting to sleep and forget. I have some alcohol but no sleeping pills, which I suppose is good thing. I don't see Doc for another week. Joy... I just hate that I even think this way. "Just one injury, just one cut or burn and I'll be all right." But I won't be. I cut the other day on my leg. It hurts more there than on my arm. I can't believe I'm analyzing this. More pain here then there... the brain is seriously a messed up organ. 

One of Those Damned Days

I was trying to leave my neighbourhood this morning to run to town. Guess what? I drove over a damned big ass rock that managed to pierce a hole in my fuel tank. A friend of mine asked if I ran over kryptonite. I love that fact that she is geeky enough to ask me that. One of the few smiles today.

Since I have no money to fix it, I had to borrow from Dad. He's had a bad day at work so I didn't help at all. I waited in a bookstore that had wi-fi. All day, five hours! I'm pissed off, grumpy, urgy...

I want alcohol and sleeping pills. I don't want to think any more and I don't care how I achieve it. I want to self harm because I'm angry. Why the hell do these things keep happening to me?

Does it really matter?

I have no insurance and therefore cannot afford therapy. Of course once I do have private insurance, I also cannot afford therapy. Email to my therapist what I've found for health care and that its still not affordable and she replies, "Its a flawed system". No shit, Sherlock. Of course she isn't on the receiving end of the shit storm! She has health care, and the money to afford whatever the hell she needs. At $170 a session before insurance and "sliding scale" no wonder. Of course whatever she doesn't get directly in cash that day, the insurance reimburses to the point that she only has her office open to the psychos like me for three days in the work week.

I shouldn't be angry with Dr B, its not her fault. She's trying to help in her own way. She is a prisoner to the system just as much as I am. She can only do so much whilst my hands are tied completely.

I'm angry, pissed off, fucking furious and there is not a bloody thing I can do about any of it. Sure, I can injure, like I did last night. Doesn't help, none of it helps. I could change my injury spot again, new pain... No, doesn't help forever. Numb in the skin and pain in the brain. What a way to go. I close my eyes to try and calm myself, to not see that my life is nothing but a waste most of the time. My parents are disappointed in me because I can't move out and leave them alone. I have few friends and none of which I would ever tell my darkest secret. I have virtually no support.

I. Am. Alone.

I feel it every day I breathe, every night I try to dream. Part of me is so close to saying "fuck it" and giving up. But what of the other part? Too subbourne to die, to give in, to leave. I'm screaming in my head, I'm begging to be heard, but on one seems to hear me. Maybe I'm not loud enough, maybe none of them care, maybe maybe maybe... Does any of it really matter? Do I?

Damn You, Murphy

That went well... If it could go wrong it did. The heater in my car doesn't work, but then neither does the passenger window, so I'm screwed no matter what time of year it is. I had to deal with monumental stupidity at work, every fool and her son had to have shown up! I scratched my hand on the register and asked for a bandage. Took twenty minutes to get one and I had to do it myself on my break. Until then, my finger was wrapped in packing tape. I was almost hit by carts in the store and then vehicles on the road. Everyone was a maniac!

With everything going wrong, I was so angry, all I wanted to do was to injure and reset myself, like flipping a switch. In the end, I chose to take a very hot shower. That helped. I apologized to Mom for shouting at her. First thing I did when I came home was to shout at her all my frustrations. I should get her some flowers as a thank you.

Part of the problem was my sleeping, or not sleeping to be more precise. I go to bed at eleven, shut off the lights and stare at the damned ceiling. I was awake at one then again at three before I gave up at five. Sometimes I can sleep without problems, sometimes I don't. If I take an otc sleep aide, I wake with a head ache. Not worth it. I'm buzzing, I don't know really what the issue is. I can't work retail anymore, all I want to do is scream at everyone.

Maybe that is why people "go postal" and start shootings and whatnot in stores. Little wonder... And for the record: I HATE GUNS AND WOULD NEVER USE ONE!! A life isn't mine to take, not even my own.

Breaking Point?

I am beside myself right now. My dearest mother is insisting that I have a walkie talkie in my room so she can contact me when she wants. I cannot believe that the little freedom I have is being taken away. Its not right. The entire thing is one sick method of control. I am tempted to break the fucking thing right now! I'm angry, furious that I am forced to be a fucking lap dog!

Sad thing is, when she mentioned it before and I said I didn't like the idea, she was not best pleased. Oh god this is beyond anything I agreed to. I hate it. The older she's getting the more paranoid and ignorant. I can feel my blood boiling and all I want to do is cut to get rid of the anger, if just for a little while. I want to cut so bad. I want to burn so bad... This is not right!

Anger Turned Inward

So I went to therapy today and told her that I feel like I'm talking in circles, she agreed but said that kind of thing was normal. Part of learning to trust is talking in those circles, her job is kind of like being  a detective and waiting to see what happens. I also mentioned my fear of therapy: What if there is no underlying trauma that started all this? What if there is? I'm not sure which is more frightening.

I was also told something today that has stuck in my head and keeps coming back up again when I let my mind wander. "Depression is anger turned inward". That struck me, hard. She's right. I take things too harshly, too severely. Every mistake is a failure and I don't handle failures well.

Oh I cannot wait until my next therapy session...

Shoulda Woulda Coulda And A Bite In The Ass

A few months ago, I noticed an ad for a manager at a local book shop. I wanted to try for the position, even wrote a cover letter displaying my interest and sent it off. But I was the damned fool that mentioned it to my mother. The shop showed interest in me but I never replied because Mummy didn't think it was a good idea. I was working at Home Depot after all. I had a good job with benefits. But it was the job that she wanted me to take, one I always hated. I took the Home Depot Hell because she wanted me to and it made bother her and dad pleased that I was following in my father's steps.

Now I wish I would have gone ahead and talked to the folks at that book shop. It was what I wanted! And I supposed I'm damned if its something that I want... I'm working at a call centre as a receptionist for a ton of clients. It is not exactly stimulating work. I don't particularly care for the job, but at least its a paycheck.I'm going to keep looking for something else.

Do you want to know what's really funny? Dad is thinking of leaving Home Depot! A job he's had for almost twenty years. Horribly funny... a job I hated from the start and he's finally getting fed up with it.

Reception

Guess who finally got a job after hunting for a month? Yep that would be me! I wanted receptionist work, and I got an answering service. My job is to take messages for various clients. Its hectic work, but I don't mind. At least I'm getting paid.

In other news:

I got a letter from social services today. They want me to take my idiot half brother's kids, the same guy that I have a restraining order against! I don't want those horrid children in my house or my life. They practically destroyed my parents' house, ruined the carpet and tearing holes in the walls! Their sperm donor is a whole other story! The rat bastard threatened to kill me, multiple times. He is evil incarnate, and those people want me to take his spawn?! I think not. I'm halfway tempted to go down to the office and demand that they take my name from his file. I want him out of my life forever, I never wanted him in it!

Racist fucking pig! He's part Lakota and he's a white supremacist? Yeh it confused me too.  Oh how I wish he's just go away, rot or something! Anything!!!

Slay The Dragon

Today I go to court to make sure my half brother doesn't get the restraining order I put on  him dissolved. I have evidence that proves my case, I have a witness to back me up, and I am pissed off. He's saying that the order is preventing him from gaining assisted living, I know otherwise. I am sick and damned tired of him being in my life. I want him gone. Today, I will walk into court and slay that dragon with the sharp blade of truth. He's going to stop abusing me like this and I'll be the one that has to make him stop.