28 May 2011
So it's Saturday and I'm home as usual.
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.