Things I hate the most

I’m usually a positive person. At least, that’s what people keep telling me. I’m very open and accepting when it comes to people who are different from me. I rarely get angry and, if I do, it’s for a damned good reason. I have many friends who tell me that I have a gift for making people feel calm and secure. I care a lot about other people and am more than willing to put myself out for them, even if I don’t expect them to do so for me. I found a great therapist on referral from a great church family and truly enjoy being part of things. I guess that’s what makes tonight’s mood-and ensuing blog post-so frustrating. Here goes:

The Things I Hate The Most:

-I hate how I can’t focus. I remember so many times being told that God is the answer for all that ails you and that you’ll never thirst again after knowing Him…blah blah blah…I don’t mean to sound dismissive, and at one point I really believed it to be true. As it is now, though, I want to believe, I want to pray, I want to behave and have a clean heart, but I can’t focus long enough to understand anything that’s being said to me, in church or in the Bible. I just can’t get focused, which means I don’t understand things, which means I get frustrated, which means I try to learn more but I’m still unable to focus…you just want to give up. Yes, I have ADHD. Nothing I’ve taken for it beyond what I already take for bipolar helps much.

-I hate how I can’t feel much of anything, positive or negative.

-I hate how I always feel something’s missing, but I have no idea what.

-I hate how I don’t know if I have the type of faith or closeness to God that I need and, if not, what to do about it. If I ever *do* figure out what to do and start on something, I never finish it.

-I hate how hopeless I feel sometimes. About whether we’ll ever have kids, because that means we have to do what it takes to have kids and that never happens, so I feel like I’m getting my hopes up for nothing. That’s just as much my fault as anything else, though.

-I hate how I can’t stop comparing myself to other people no matter how hard I try. There are so many unexamined “shoulds” that constantly come up-your marriage “should” be passionate, because otherwise how will you ever have kids? You’re in your late thirties , so you “should” have had kids by now. You “should” have money in the bank, even if your medical bills and time away from work have dried up all of your savings. You’re smart, so you “should” have a good job, a strong career. Instead, you get Social Security disability and sponge off the system. At least, that’s how other people see me.

Actually, screw that. Screw that and screw them. I know for a fact that Social Security disability is damned hard to get and I didn’t even apply until nearly a year or so after it was originally suggested by one of my doctors. No, instead I kept trying to work but ended up getting so confused and frustrated and upset because I couldn’t “register” what people were telling me. I “broke” one night waitressing and walked out because I couldn’t handle it. In another job, I nearly had a panic attack and had to leave. I get disability because I need it. I worked outside the home for 15 years-since I was 15 and had my first job-and paid into the system the entire time so, if anything, I’m living off my own contributions. Most people I know know this and thus don’t bitch about “the system”, but I have not hesitated to explain it to people in the nicest words I possibly can.

-I hate how easily I get obsessed with things or people because I don’t have much else going on.

-I hate how I get discouraged so easily.

-I hate how I wallow in self-pity when other people have it much worse. I hate how I can’t appreciate what I have because of my own expectations of how I thought things were going to be when I “grew up”. It’s not always like this, but I hate it when it is.

-I hate the way that sometimes I can’t read blogs or see Facebook photos from friends without feeling sorry for myself for not having children. All these pictures of kindergarten graduations or tee-ball uniforms or kids’ soccer games make me feel like I’m missing out on something great all because of something that happened years ago that I don’t remember. The truth is that I have no way of knowing whether or not I would have had children if not for my getting hurt, us having go through all of our savings and all the other things that went on.

Yes, as a matter of fact, it *does* all go back to the wreck. There have been times when I wondered what possible reason God could have had to save me from the death or dismemberment pretty much everyone who’s seen the cars (you can see them here, about halfway down the page) says should have happened. I know there’s a reason for it and that I should be grateful to be alive. I *am* grateful, but sometimes I find myself wondering what things would be like had all that not happened. I know that’s not healthy, but there you have it.

 

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About theprozacqueen

30s, female, married, Georgia US, very opinionated, open-minded mostly, too nice for my own good, Christian, fairly liberal, friendly. I have a pretty big family and several friends and in-laws that might as well be family. I don't have kids, but I have five cats who think they're kids. I have a silly (and sometimes off-color) sense of humor. I'm a Christian so I'll try not to be nasty or use bad language in my posts, but I'm not making any promises, View all posts by theprozacqueen

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