28 May 2011
Saw both counselors this week. Both wanted to delve into the relationship (what?) between Dad and I. It's obvious to anyone who knows me that it is a strained relationship. It depends on his mood the father I'm going to deal with on any given day. Some days I get fussed at about finances, other days he claims I'm special and talented. When he's on his high horse is the worst, he presses every button to piss me off like it's a game. He and my brothers have done this all of my life.
He also seems to like making me feel like shit, like when he told the hospital bill person that I'm unemployed and there's no chance of me getting a job anytime soon. Granted I cannot work and go to school at the same time (I congratulate those who can, I'd end up in the asylum), it doesn't help my confidence level at all to hear that bullshit. If he doesn't like making me feel like shit, then he's failing at preventing such feelings as a reaction to his words.
My brothers think I should just shut the fuck up and let him run over me verbally and psychologically. I think my brothers should take a flying leap at a rolling donut.
I have one brother who is clueless about anything to do with emotions or psychological disturbances, and another one who pisses me off to the point of blackouts at just the mention of his name. He's the one that tells me (and probably Dad) that I'm a "lying, manipulative, fat mooch that runs around the house like a ranting, raving lunatic." I'd love for that asshole to have to live with being severely bipolar like me. I'm still pissed at what he did to Mom for the last few years of her life. Yet people still wonder why I hate him enough to not be able to be in the same house, let alone the same room as him. And to top that off, it seems Dad still won't defend me against my brothers. Then again why should anything change after 30 fucking years.
Do I wonder if Dad loves me? Yes. Do I think he does? Depends on the day, usually the answer is no. I feel like he sees me as a big disappointment and failure at life because I can't get and hold down a job and may be just spinning my wheels with this degree seeking venture of mine. Apparently history majors are "do you want fries with that" degrees. Totally impractical.
I should work on revising my memoirs/self help book and actually try to get it published. I think there's a market for sob stories of overcoming abuse. I just don't feel like I can be a good model for getting past the shit since I'm the one seeing two counselors, on 3 medications and in an overwhelming depression that just won't go away completely. Maybe I can sell the movie rights to Lifetime and make some money for a change. I'd pay my student loans off and see if I have enough left to pay Dad's house off since I'm such a mooch. Then I could get to work on my historical fiction novels... and pray those sell.
Yeah, delusions of grandeur coupled with the feeling of impending failure. And this blog has totally gone down the journal route.
22 May 2011
In good news Dave and I are going great and summer session starts May 31.
16 May 2011
I'd been laying in bed trying to go to sleep since my medicine knocks me out and naturally my mind wandered to things not nice. I got to thinking about Frank and how shit went down with us and how much it hurts, I noticed the thinking and tried to sidetrack myself with thoughts of Dave. But the thing is, Dave hasn't caused me pain lately, Frank has, so naturally thoughts of the events leading up to the dissolution of our friendship puts knots in my stomach and tears in my eyes. Happy thoughts don't seem to dent the emotional reaction I get from these specific negative thoughts. His words are daggers that are still stuck in my back and twist occasionally. Naturally thoughts went from Frank to - What if Dave and I fail again, how much is that going to hurt both of us? Can I take that pain? Can he take that pain? Does he understand why I left him in the first place and is he willing to fix the problem, or at least make an effort to?
Then the thoughts moved to my mother dying, seeing her wilting body fade away from life, watching her become a skeleton with skin, the hell I played trying to take care of her the last 6 weeks of her life. I wonder if she's in some peaceful beyond and can see everything inside of my head, the torture I go through on a daily basis. I wonder if she tries to communicate with or comfort me from the beyond. I wonder if she realized what she was leaving me to when she left. I pray that her spirit can give me the strength to actually publish my memoir which removes every skeleton this family has from every closet. This makes me wonder if she knew what she was bringing me into when she bore me... why I had and have to suffer everything.
So here I sit, saddened once more, displaying my open wounds for you to salt.
12 May 2011
Thinking has made it more difficult to sleep at night. I think of how I've hurt Dave, how I shouldn't have written the blog about the best friend and the one sided friendship (but it was cathartic), now he's dodging my calls. I'm sure he hates me now. I can't stop thinking of our last argument... where he told me the friendship was one sided and how much that devastated me. I think of how the friendship shouldn't have ended like that, how I should have held my tongue and not lashed out in pain, but cry out in pain I did indeed.
The quiet gives me time to realize Mom's not here. She'll never be here no matter how much I wish it. I am left with nobody to talk to, nobody to spend time with, nobody to enjoy life with... and when I do make a friend I fuck it up somehow, usually by getting too close to them which opens me up to getting hurt. It's a vicious cycle.
When I'm alone I find myself crying or starting to cry at stupid shit. I'm crying right now actually, knowing nobody is here with me, feeling like nobody cares, feeling like shit because of how shit went with me and the best friend.
I feel like shit right now. I need to stop thinking but I can't. I can't stop feeling either. Sometimes I wish my heart would just stop beating so I wouldn't have to live with this fucking disease anymore. This disease that consumes my life, my being, burning so out of control I don't know that it can ever be reigned back in to normalcy.
I know I'll never be normal. I'm jealous of the "normals," their brain works right and I got stuck with a diseased piece of shit that causes me to do crazy things and say crazy shit and react in crazy ways, it just causes me to be crazy. Just ask any of my ex boyfriends or ex friends they'll agree that I'm fucked up in the head and should be in an asylum rather than walking the streets. Maybe I should be locked up. I tried that once. It made things worse for me, being isolated in a room full of people. It cost $5000.00 too.
I just want shit to be right with me for once. When do I get my break?
10 May 2011
Finals are done being flunked, term papers have been decimated, a friendship fucked up (I guess it's his loss) and the high probability I won't get Dave back. It's been a great week. I think the Wellbutrin is helping the depression at the new dosage, but I still seem stuck in the rut. I guess the rut is too much for certain friends since the real isolation begins now and will last until summer classes start... which is not soon enough. I'm certain I've flunked or gotten D's in all of my classes but one this semester which does nothing but make me feel worthless and like a complete failure. All in all I'm glad this shitty semester is over.
07 May 2011
This is the first Mother's Day without her in my life. She said she was proud of me and she thought I could achieve my dreams. She told me she wished she were as brave as I am. She finally accepted me for who Ii am. She learned as much about bipolar disorder as she could just so she could be closer to me. She'd sit on the couch and listen to me babble on about history class. We'd make chocolate chip cookie dough and devour it before we could make cookies. We watched CSI, Criminal Minds, NCIS and The Mentalist together every week. Every year for my birthday she'd bake me a red velvet cake. When she was actively dying I put on a Lord of the Rings and Harry Potter marathon for her, even though I didn't know if she would know it was on or not. She died at the opening of the end credits of Fellowship of the Ring at 5:17 a.m. September 27, 2010. I feel robbed. When she came home from the hospital on hospice she was to have months to live, she didn't even make it a month.
While our relationship was tumultuous for the first 2/3 of my life the last third made me realize she actually loved me. I'm sad I only got 9 good years with her, but happy she's not suffering from the cancer anymore.
Happy Mother's Day 2011.
05 May 2011
Probably because a part of me still pined for him. He had the balls to tell me he had hoped that had gone away by now. Well no, it didn't. It lessened, I started waking up and seeing things that drive me up the wall, I started seeing him as a fallible human, and one that probably wasn't as compatible for me as I had thought a long time ago.
Yes Sire, as you hinted at yesterday, my emotions and my brain are all fucked up. I doubt it's fixable. I doubt I'll ever be normal like you. I doubt I'll have someone fall madly in love with me, ever... so excuse the fuck out of me for being jealous that you have a life and I never will, no matter how hard I try. If I knew why my friends keep their distance from me I'd let you know, but now you've joined their ranks, ignoring me, being too busy for me, unable to deal with my emotional side, whatever the fucking problem is, I'm sure it's all my fault.
As you disappear from my life I'm left to my usual isolated, friends that won't do anything with me, tortured existence. Thanks for the ride and thanks for telling me I was never the type of friend you'd have dinner with and it was a one sided friendship. That made me feel fucking excellent. And since you're dodging my calls to spend time with the new girlfriend, I only called to apologize for reacting so badly, but now I'm pissed and hurt again so fuck that. You don't see it, but I do... your back, walking away from me.
02 May 2011
Mother's Day is coming up, it sucks. I'm sick of the commercials reminding me that I don't have one anymore, that I can't have her back, that she's gone forever. I don't have a shoulder to cry on anymore, anyone to ask if I'm OK because I am just pacing around the house, weighed down by my thoughts and depressed feelings, nobody that loves me. Nobody to nurse my broken heart or bandage bruised emotions. Nobody to laugh with, cry with... no, I have no mother. I'm stuck pacing this house or laying in bed yearning for one more good day, a hug, a "he's the one not good enough for you, not the other way around." We'd make chocolate chip cookie dough and eat more dough than not.
I'd ask her why I pine for men who don't want me, why they don't think I'm good enough for them, why I get jealous that they have lives and I am stuck here unable to go anywhere, not even fishing, because I need the gas. I'd ask what's so repulsive about me? Why could she marry her high school sweetheart and I'm the crazy cat lady at 30? Why do these tears fall for him, yet I have to swallow my emotions around him because I don't want him out of my life? I'd ask why I can't have that one man in the world that could tolerate my ups and downs, love me for me, and love me in the way I want to be loved. With tears streaming down my reddened cheeks I'd ask her why I'm so unlovable, why I fail at everything I do, and why do I have to feel these feelings.