What Pisses Me Off

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Or, more accurately: what makes me feel robbed.

Robbed of a childhood filled with actual affection, and praise. It is only now, when I am in college of my own doing, with high grades and no longer in the steep depression that were years before.

Ever worse – they are using my niece to base off whether or not I am “boastable”. My niece is fifteen. They just found out she has been hiding a currently 18 year old boyfriend for the past two years. She is failing every one of her classes. Getting detentions, referrals and skipping school.

Now, my brother-in-law says I am not a mooch in comparison to his daughter. When I would have probably been the same way if it was not for my personality disorder, since this is all entirely due to my sister’s raising of her. My niece needs guidance, and care – not shipping her off to military school. Which they cannot even afford. Admit that you are shit parents, and let me talk to her.

My mother has come to love this show that Steve Harvey hosts called, “Little Big Shot”. Children of various ages achieve grand feats of musical talent, intellect, or skill. And she coos, and boasts about them as if they were her own. However, when I was a child, and even to this day, nothing I did merited praise. Straight a’s? Eh. Learning college algebra at age four? Eh. “I was a mathematician, no big deal.” A painting of mine is featured in the school’s select art show? Who cares.

 

Nothing I did was ever good enough, and still is not good enough five minutes ago.

Maybe, this is why I crave assurance and praise so much, since I was robbed of it as a child.

Screw It

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Keyboard

 

For a few weeks, I was playing ideas on how I could label ν•œκΈ€ characters on my keyboard. There were ideas of finding a nice thin laminate adhesive, and sandwiching the characters between two sheets that were cut into size. However, that was rejected when I realized that not a single label was transparent enough, especially when layered. Nor, could I find a fine enough point metallic pen that would write on the slick plastic.

So, I gave in, and marked my baby. I hate permanently marking anything. Stickers, especially but that is slightly off topic. The worry that if I want to change my mind, and remove them… only to have that annoying as hell adhesive left behind would drive me bonkers.

My hands were shaking so hard since I there is the beauty of being left handed, and the risk of smearing the permanent ink is high. As you can tell on a few, that did indeed happen. Even this pen was not find enough to my liking. I believe these were 0.7 tips. A 0.5, or 0.3 would have been so much preferable, however they did not have any of those at the JoAnns I went to.

Honestly, at this point, I am just killing time while waiting for the reply from the tech team in charge of MyMathLab so I can do my homework and quizzes for this week. That are due tomorrow. I kinda need this fixed ASAP.

However, in the meantime, I am at the mercy of time.

So, I will just go on Tumblr. Perhaps think on what I want to do tomorrow. Tomorrow is supposed to be somewhat balmy, and my Disney annual pass expires soon. The Flower and Garden festival is going on, and I have been playing with the idea of going out for a visit. Of course, this is all dependent on whether or not I finish all of my homework tonight.

Next random thought: writing prompts. I miss writing. There is a subreddit dedicated entirely to writing prompts. I did receive praise from my composition professors on my writing skills. I will say that seriously boosted my day for a while there. She is a published, award winning author, and she said I had talent. It makes me want to write again. Should I? Can I? I should at least try.

My mom spoke with the sister I cut out on my brother’s birthday a couple days ago. She said she apologized for everything. I told my mother that if my sister stuck to being trying to better, then I would consider talking to her. However, as it stands right now, you can never expect a person to change who they have been the past almost forty years in one apology. They apparently also talked about Mike, and I. My mother said it seemed breaking up with Mike after what he did caused me to, “wake up.”

I wear “cute clothes” now, I got a manicure a week ago, and I am going to school with A’s everyday. What do you guys think? Have I, “woken up”? Was I asleep before? Was it really that kind of relationship before?

The only difference in my clothes I think is the two crop tops I wear now. I mean, I have had them over a year – I just never wore them because I did not have the confidence. I still do not, but I wear them anyways.

Now I want to go on a run. Dang it.

Out of the Norm

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Today I am doing something slightly out of the norm for me. Well, besides sitting around waiting. That is pretty on schedule in my case.

Did I mention I am the oldest in my composition class? Well, one of the younger students in my class asked for my help with her annotated bibliography for her research paper, as well as another paper. These assignments were due yesterday, but if I can help her, why not?

So, I have been sitting in Starbucks for just short of an hour listening the the hustle and bustle that manages to make its way past my SoundSport headphones. It is pretty crowded for me, and I had lucked out in being able to get a table with enough space, and access to an outlet. Pretty good, right?

Those the chairs suck. My back is killing me and my butt is numb. I have no idea how long we are going to be here, but hopefully it is not for too long. I want to go home, read, and unwind. I only managed to get a pathetic couple of hours of sleep last night.

Unless I am tucked away in my car, or at home – I am not the best at killing time. There is always the paranoia of people looking over my shoulder, and looking at what I am doing. So, that cuts out Tumblr, YouTube, and my books on my computer. I ended up playing some Firefly on Netflix while I finished my Chipotle from next door.

Do you know how hard it is to memorize a new keyboard? Without any visual aids beyond the Google Korean keyboard input on my phone? It is so annoying trying to type on my laptop, and reference that at the same time. So, there has been a bit of brainstorming trying to figure out how I could label the keys on my laptop without permanently doing so. I came up with the idea of getting some kind of transparent film and writing on character on one, then sandwiching the written character (in metallic inc for visibility) under another clear layer and sticking that to the keys individually. However… it has to be ultra fine, and transparent. I have yet to find an ultra fine tip metallic permanent marker/pen, or the proper film. When I was at Office Depot tryin to find said pens earlier, I gave in, and bought some “removable” scotch tape. However… it i s definitely not transparent. I learned this after removing the paper back, and pulling the tape forward. So… That was a fail. I will just have to try JoAnns. I am supposed to be going to Sanford tomorrow with my mom to visit my brother’s park to remember his birthday.

 

He would have been 41 this year. And 9 years gone from this world in May.

 

We miss you.

Rapid Cycling

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My Agoraphobia has reached an all time high.

I rarely leave the house. It takes an internal pep talk for the courage to go outside and feed my two cats.

Sometimes, I manage to go the Publix or the feed store to purchase hay for Miss Lola (who is doing great by the way). Straight there and back. I only learned a week ago that a Starbucks and Chipolte had popped up just on the other side of Publix and has been there for months.

I had not a single clue.

Lately thoughts are of dreaming of being stable and normal. Really. That isy big dream. To have a stable job and income that I enjoy. Enrolled in a nice university working on a Master’s degree. Not rapid cycling between hope, anger, despair and happiness.

Manic one day, literally – one day and the next is filled with suicidal ideation.

My sister attacked not only myself but my mother, my older brother and my father over my mental illness.

“She’s a mooch.”

“Right now she’s a waste of space piece of s***.”

“I’m only saying this out of love.”

The attack against me was from this direct quote of a text message excluding her name.

“We need to have a talk and some clarification.”

I sent this text after hearing about what she said to my mother. Normally, I am a send them to the burn unit, and give them the grand jury after kind of gal.

The rare ment where I am calm, cool and collected in initiating what I was hoping to be an educational conversation that would lend some perspective.

After her six page text of venom I only said two words, “good bye.”

My sister has always been verbally and emotionally abusive. But she had those teeny tiny moments when she was my best friend. I could go to her and she would hug me and make everything better.

While they were rare, they are very important to me.

However, the irnoy is – I am who I am because of her, today. She was the one who raised me until we moved to where we are now 17 years ago.

Fear of an opinion. Fear of weakness. Fear of love and affection. Because showing any of these things made me a target. Not my brothers, but me.

I did not have a favorite color until this time last year.

I did not understand how someone had a “favorite color” until after my miscarriage.

I remember sitting on the bus to school, trying to figure out what a favorite color was and how one chose their favorite color.

Was it pink?

No, everyone is made fun of for liking anything pink.

Was it green? Like my brother’s?

Nope, not that either. Not being original sets her off as well.

What about blue?

I don’t think so. Soany people say blue but like every other choice – they were just colors to me. Not a part of a personality or identity.

So, if I was scared and confused at the simple idea of owning to the notion of liking so much to call it your favorite color – imagine every other item, person, place or thing people expected you to have alignment with.

I don’t expect to speak to sister for a long time, if ever again.

I am doing everything I am capable of right now to be better.

There are so many times when like headlights the distance, see something is coming up that I need to recognize and work with but my brain cannot seem to connect how.

A lot of everything and a lot of nothing

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I am on very little sleep, a lot of physical and emotional stress. Basically, I have been in this state since my last post at the near end of January.

Since then my boyfriend had come and gone for a visit. I almost finished a dress. There were multiple mental breakdowns. I got a new phone as well a little over a week ago.

I was going to post about my latest project in next post but there isn’t much for me to say since I didn’t fully finish it. I need to only hem it and I do not know when I will be able to get to that. The main problem is for me that when I hem it the back when worn is actually two inches higher than the front thanks to my proportions and I do not know how to mark it for hemming by myself since when I lie it flat I do not know how to place it as the front needs approximately four inches off the front while the back needs only two inches.

I did fix those droopy pockets by hand sewing in three snaps inside the band area of each pocket. So, I am very happy about that.

Now, as for my mental health. It is up and down, up and down. So much rapid cycling. It can almost be guaranteed that I will get a very happy high and then within two hours I am crying and in pieces. It has been like this for maybe about a month a half?

My biggest breakdown was last Wednesday night after leaving the house for the first time in a long time and getting some much needed necessities. And free truffles! Ever since I came home from Atlantic City in November, I have been sleeping on my mattress on my floor.

I decided that night as the next day my new phone would be delivered, I needed to get my bed off the ground and move in a night stand that has been in the corner of the living room for ages.

The metal frame for bed was leaning against my wall all these months just waiting for when I could get a box spring to put my bed on. For some reason I thought I wouldn’t need a box spring! I could just place my mattress directly on the frame and it would be dandy! So, I spent over an hour cleaning and moving in the night stand (which is solid wood. I think Oak) and then piecing the two metal pieces for the frame together. I wrestle the bed even with my very weak stature as I hadn’t eaten yet that entire day besides one of the free truffles and manage to place the mattress on the frame.  Where I quickly remembered you in fact do need a box spring otherwise your beg just sags to the floor as nothing supports the middle or sides of the bed.

I went to my father to ask for help carrying in the box spring I thought was just chilling in the back yard. I didn’t care if maybe it wasn’t exactly perfectly clean. I was on a high and was going to fix at least of my problems myself and get my bed off the floor dang it!

One problem. There was no box spring. Mom had already burned it a while back. It was pitch black at the time so I couldn’t exactly look out and see the lack of box spring presence.

That’s when I broke down. Sobbing and hyper ventilating.

I felt like I was failing at everything. I couldn’t solve a single problem on my own. Not even getting my bed off the floor. My boyfriend saved me by buying me a phone the day my phone went black and refused to turn on besides “Samsung” and black again. I was depending and begging my parents for food, tampons and anything. Sometimes going for days just eating sunflower seeds and drinking water because I was too prideful and/or ashamed of asking yet again for something.

Here I am at 23, living at home with no move out date in sight. Still not in school and cannot even hold a part time job. Can barely leave my house for goodness sake without shaking and panic attacks and imagining every horrible thing possible would happen while I was out. At home while I was away and happening wherever I was going.

Dad knocks on my door and tries giving me his bed set up which just set me off even harder. I could only say no over and over again. “I won’t take your bed. I won’t!” And rushing back to my room.

Eventually I found 2x4s and I cut them to size with my hand saw fitting them to the length of the frame. Then using duct tape to create support between the  cuts. Here is a very crude doodle of what I managed.

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I do my best to hide my breakdowns from Mike. I don’t usually succeed as he is very intuitive.  Though he has an easy cheat code. If he texts or says “Muah” and I cannot say it in return he knows something is up. For some reason whenever I am upset, “muah” will send me bawling. So I just sit there, swallowing and straining to not let the quiver free in my voice.

Then the last couple of weeks another one of our pack is reaching the end of her days. She had developed a rather nasty hip injury in her second and last litter approximately nine years ago. And now it has progressed to just too much for her to handle at almost fifteen years old. She cannot control her legs and cannot sit up or walk.

Now, I spend my days doing best to force myself to sleep as much as possible so I don’t have to go out when I am the only one in the house and find her passed away. I am a coward and I know it. About three or four years ago, when Angel’s mother, Matrix, passed away I was the only one home. I had to keep sending away the other dogs whom kept trying to get to her and sniff her and look at her.

It traumatized me. I do not handle death well. Add in the fact I can cry at anything at the drop of a hat…

Yeah.

And now I  at the point where I cannot sleep. Too stressed, anxious and scared that she is dead, or alive. It has been very cat in a box. She is dead and alive whenever I am not next to her. Watching her to see her breathe or twitch her ears.

As well last night a tom cat, HUGE, tom cat came after my cats in yard last night sometime around ten o’clock. So from now on we are going to keep the cats in the screen to connected to the car port at night. Where the heir food with be protected from raccoons, armadillos and apparently a ballsy tom cat. He gave no cares when I came flying out of the house. Just saunters right past me. Oh, yeah I chased and yelled at him.

“Out of my yard! Out! Out!  Away from my cats! Who the hell are you?! Out!!”

I am very light headed, shaky and spacy. I desperately need some portein.

Pho was on the schedule but as Mom and I were almost positive Angel would have slipped away by morning as she was not wanting to be inside. She would cry and cry if we tried carrying her.  And if we ignored them and carried her anyways,  she would start dragging her way back outside.

She was shivering so hard this morning.  Before she was refusing any blankets or towels we would drape over her and tuck her in. But this morning she was too cold to argue. I lightly warmed towels in the dryer and just kept rubbing her through a blanket til I could tuck the warm towel under the blanket.

While I was crouched next to her tucking her in, my phone fell out of my hoodie pocket. Maybe eight inches on the concrete and two corners Andre damaged now. On side is barely a scrape but the bottom right looks like someone took a light bite on a wooden pencil.

When Mike ordered the phone he also ordered one of those flip cases as well that snap onto the back. I have a Galaxy S4 by the way. And let me tell you, it did nothing. Just popped off and open so it landed on its face.

Grrrr.

Nine days! Nine days! The one time I get distracted and not hyper aware and bam. It could have been so, much worse but still. It really bums me out.

I am getting an OtterBox Defender case ASAP.

I hope I can get sleep sometime soon.

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This post was drafted and published using the WordPress App for Android on my Galaxy S4. There are more than likely spelling or grammatical errors I may have missed before posting. Please forgive them, this is just a personal blog.

Just the pits, man.

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Today marks two weeks until Mike flies in. I should be happy, excited and dancing around with the giggles.

But I am not.

Today has been filled with depressive thoughts with a suicidal filter like a bad instagram selfie.

I feel locked away in my house. Even if I didn’t have crippling agoraphobia, I have to plan weeks in advance to be able to use a car and leave.

For the past few days I have been trying to lightly ask about using the truck the Friday before Mike flies in so I can go get my hair done. I have had money set aside since November so the next time I saw Mike, I would not have two to four inches of roots showing.

Since my mother’s plan to buy my father a crappy car fell through she is in a bad mood.

We will just say, I am not getting the truck.

I spent four hours non-stop cleaning and cooking trying to have her in a good mood when she got home since Dad decided he wanted to save up more before going car shopping and I knew that would upset her.

My cleaning that was started hours before she got home was in her way of her putting down her garage sail finds and groceries.

Me offering her food made her upset and grouchy.

Asking if she wanted me to fill up her Pepsi cup sent her for a loop.

You cannot be nice to this woman, I swear.

It was expressed once again that they (my mother, really) are upset I am not seeking school, work or a doctor.

I can’t see a doctor because I do not have a car to go to the appointments, nor do I have the money for the appointments.  The majority of the last three months I have to without food and other necessities (I had to beg for tampons twice now) because I do not have the money to buy my own.

I cannot get a job because once again I do not have a car to actually get to and from nor do I have the imperative mental and emotional stability to be able to function in a work place since I cannot get to or pay for medical assitance.

I do not have a car because this family is entirely “you’re on your own”. Everything, from reading, washing your hair,  how to drive a car or cook your dinner because what they make, makes you sick – you have to teach yourself. Well.

I had to teach myself.

My brothers all had multiple cars given to them. College funds they chose to spend on not college. My mom and dad took turns teaching them how to drive and taking them out so they could practice.

I sound so whiny reading this over.

I am just hurt, I guess. I feel like the entire stack is against me and is going to fall over into a mess anyways.

Every day I have multiple panic attacks and thoughts of why bother? Absolutely and truly, why bother?

Why bother going to the doctor when they all say they can’t help me or that I don’t ‘seem’ sick simply because I am “articulate and sociable”.

Why bother looking for work when all it will do is compoud my illnesses and further my depression when I fail?

Something about me makes people dislike me. I ask everyone, ‘what am I doing wrong?’ I am polite, I always did my job well and apologized when I did not do well. I was always on time and offered to stay late and take shifts for those that needed to give them away.

And yet I always get pulled for discussions. When I would ask aboyt furthering my position in the company, ‘maybe not right now.’

Everywhere I go.

What the hell am I doing wrong?

After my family history and the issues at work I question everything I say and do.

If someone doesn’t respond to me, it breaks me down.

I curl up on my bed and cry.

Though to be honest even if I am talking to people I will probably still be curled on my bed crying between messages.

Now, I am fighting with every core of my being to not let Mike know what is going on in my head. I am terrified if he learns just how screwed up I still am, he will leave again. When he contacted me again, I was working and in therapy.

Now? I don’t leave my room. I don’t leave my bed.

The only people I talk to is my friend Michelle and Mike.

Today started with fighting not going right back to sleep. The rest of the day was fighting against the urge to take aspirin pm I have been holding onto.

I gave in about an hour ago.

My prayers are for sleep.

The Darkness Continues

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Today is the day before Thanksgiving in America. I am not sure if anyone is aware but the holidays and I do not get along. ‘Family’ is almost synonymous with ‘holiday season’ and I have already mentioned that my family and I are at opposite ends of the soectrum.

Right now feelings of supreme paranoia, stress, depression and anxiety are raging inside.

I really just want to use a time machine to skip tomorrow and all the darkness that will come with it. While I am at it, I would like to skip tonight as well.

All these negative thoughts and feelings I tend to hide from people. Especially Mike.  I put all my pain and sorrow on him after the miscarriage and it was too much after everything else he was already dealing with.

I also try to not put too much on Sassy even though she says it is okay, I don’t feel it is okay. I don’t know what I did but I think I upset her tonight. But I am probably just being overly sensitive and paranoid as usual.

Tonight I noticed I don’t leave my house. My room, even. Unless I absolutely have to. If I have an engagement or appointment the days leading up to it at agony as I battle not to cancel them. My funds and lack of gas are my excuse usually but I just don’t want to leave. I don’t want to be here though either.

Like many others, I just wish there was a fairy godmother/father or guardian angel that will just magically drop down and make everything better. Either get me in school or help me be able to function even minimally so I could work and move out and run away. I have lost all sense of independence or will to thrive. But that doesn’t happen in reality.  I only have my nightmares when I do sleep and then this lucid nightmare when I am awake.

I started research on birth control. I have never been on any form of it nor even have I ever been to an gynecologist.  I feel like I need to be on birth control just so 2012 never happens again but there is so much I am scared of. Everything I have read points to it being a nightmare and really expensive to be on birth control if you are Bipolar. I am horrible with taking pills on time so there’s that issue. And the end note is my parents would have to pay for it. How the hell do I justify that?

I don’t see this ever getting better. I am Timmy stuck in the well with no Lassie to be found. I just know what to do or how to go on.

Drafted and posted using my Samsung Galaxy SIII. Please do forgive any typographical errors.