Category Archives: angsty

I Feel Like a F*ing Freak Sometimes

(I started this a couple of years ago, but I just now decided to publish it. Sad, I know. 😊)

Warning: This is a very raw, emotional post that contains a lot of bad language. If you’re offended by such things-especially from a Christian-you might want to look away.

I’m so fucking upset and embarrassed right now that I didn’t want to go to bed without at least writing some of this down. If I don’t get it out here, it will probably come out in some place I really don’t want it to and will just make me feel worse.

Ever since I was a little kid, I’ve talked to myself. A lot of people do this, I’m told, but I’ve been given a lot of grief about it because apparently the things that I think I’m keeping to myself are coming out in mutterings I’m not aware of. I have no idea how to not do this because, as I said, I don’t realize it’s happening to begin with. It was brought to my attention that every little negative emotion I have, every little frustration or annoyance is being made public because I don’t know how to keep my mouth shut even if I try to. It’s really weird but I don’t know what to do about it. Everybody-my coworkers, the manager-hell, even the owner notices and I have no idea how to stop. Like I said, I never knew I was doing it at all. I was told about this tonight after having had such a good time talking and was so embarrassed that all I wanted to do was leave so I could get into my car and cry.

I’m so scared that I will be-

A) The crazy bitch who talks to herself that no one likes;

B) The completely incompetent bitch no one likes;

C) The person who can’t keep her mouth shut to save her life and embarrasses herself . People say that they like me and that I’m entertaining, which I definitely like…I’m glad I can make people laugh but sometimes I wish I could just keep my mouth shut around certain people…damned near everyone, really. If I can figure out how to stop muttering to myself audibly, then perhaps I can get a handle on the whole “diarrhea of the mouth” thing.

It’s the same thing anywhere I work-I make stupid mistakes and am so insecure about it that if my mistakes don’t bother people, the insecurity does. When you’re in a situation where it feels like someone is looking for things to fuss at you about like I was before one of the trainers quit-she was upset she didn’t get a certain job and took her shit out on me-, you end up so afraid to do something wrong that you end up doing even worse than you did before. Even if I’m not being dumped on, I expect to be because that’s what’s happened in the past and it sort of becomes a self-fulfilling prophecy.  The fear, the being “scary” (meaning, being scared) gets to people but I don’t know how to stop it.

I make the dumbest mistakes (turning in an order late, bringing out things in the wrong order) that I’m informed should be behind someone who has been there as long as I have. I know that. I got yelled at today and got into a fussing match with a couple of trainers because of the fact that I don’t listen and get defensive when someone tries to correct me…excuse me, I *do* listen. I know it’s frustrating that I don’t remember things that were told to me, but that’s why I get disability to begin with. Why I have to have Klonopin to work (although I don’t take it much) or why I keep having people lose patience with me because they think I’m a total idiot when…well, actually I think that last part is true. At least sometimes. Imagine how frustrating it is to have to ask the same questions because you don’t remember. People sometimes treat me as though I have early-onset Alzheimer’s because of it-in fact, that condition was mentioned by name once.

And yes, I took it personally and do so naturally, but I don’t know how not to take it personally when someone is telling you how frustrating it is to deal with you because they have to repeat things over and over again. And ironically, that point-that they have to cover things over and over again-is belabored more than anything else. Yes, I feel like I’m being picked on by certain people, and I’m not the only one.  I don’t think I’m being bullied or whatever-I know that all too well-, but I seem to think the worst or feel like things are more intense emotionally than they really are.

I’ve never been able to take criticism well, especially when it comes in certain forms and from certain people. I’ve always taken things personally, I guess because I care so much about what other people think and I want relationships with those around me. I don’t want people to think badly of me, I don’t want things to be uncomfortable and I don’t want to do things that bother people. I don’t remember how this started, but I’ve always felt that “people getting bothered with me=doing something wrong=bad person”. And holy crap did some people take advantage of that. I don’t think it was a matter of anyone actively telling me that so much as seeing my parents fight with my sister…she did things that bothered my parents so they sent her away for a year to live with my aunt in California. Turns out she went to rehab out there and asked to go, but all I saw was that she misbehaved (got bad grades, got into trouble, etc), made my parents mad and then got sent away because they didn’t want her anymore. Ah, the mind of a ten-year-old.

I know I come off as defensive and smart-assed when I say stuff like “okay, I know, I know, I screwed up, I’m stupid…” stuff like that. I know it sounds like I’m blowing off what they said to me, but I’m not. What I’m doing is saying I know what you’re going to say, so can we move on. I didn’t realize how snotty that sounded. But now a couple of people are probably not going to want to talk to me again-in fact, one told me not to and that it wasn’t worth it trying to tell me anything. Now I know that that sort of talk says nothing about me and everything about her. I’m just afraid no one is going to want to talk to me and, like I said before, I’ll be the incompetent, crazy bitch everyone hates.

What sucks is that I was having such a rock-star day before that. And people were saying as much.

Looking back, I can see a marked difference in the way that I think and understand things now than I did before the bipolar/ADHD/whatever set on. I was the smart kid in class and now I’m the airhead. I don’t remember things I need to but hold onto things I don’t…I don’t understand things and sometimes people get frustrated with me, saying that I should ask for clarification if I need it. The problem is, I don’t think to ask because I think I *am* getting it-that I *do* understand things. People think I don’t listen when I do, I just don’t remember well. That’s the thing about ADHD-a lot of the times you can’t really learn anything because there is so much else going on in your head that new information can’t find any room. It’s not that you don’t pay attention to anything so much as that you pay attention to *everything* whether you want to or not-you can’t tune things out and focus the way other people can because your mind is literally so crowded you can’t cram in a single new thing. It’s like that closet everyone has in their house where they put whatever doesn’t go anywhere else-so much random stuff gets put in there that, whenever you have something you really *do* need to find a place for, it won’t fit. I know I might talk about the ADHD/bipolar/whatever too much and sound like I’m making excuses. However, this isn’t an excuse-it’s the truth.

I might be misinterpreting things…I have a really bad habit of assuming that other people’s thoughtless or rude behavior has something to do with me. I think I’m justified in this, though, because it’s happened in other jobs I’ve had-I didn’t do a good job for whatever reason and people who used to talk to me decided I didn’t have any other good qualities and I became the pariah. What’s really bad is that I don’t understand why this happens-maybe it’s because I’ve always been the slow one, but I’ve been the one to come to the defense of someone who’s being dumped on unnecessarily. A good friend of mine at work used to have people talk shit behind her back about how stupid she was and make fun of her the way you’d expect from a schoolyard bully. Now that she’s gone, I worry that I’m going to be That Person again. I may not have been that person here at all, but it’s hard to let go of that dread when it’s happened to you so many times before. I know I have some friends but I’m just incredibly embarrassed and feel I will always be that social outcast, the one nobody likes.

Thing is, I make really good tips. I seem to always screw up at least one order a day, but I make good tips so it must not be too bad…it’s not the customers I’m concerned about so much as being embarrassed that so much of my feelings are being put on display for my coworkers. Yes, I’m airing all my crap out in public here too, but the difference is that I *chose* to write this…I don’t *choose* to mutter angry things to myself where everyone can hear.

It doesn’t matter what the fuck I do because I either can’t afford therapy or don’t have time…hey, maybe since I’m making a bit more money I’ll be able to afford it. I haven’t been able to go to church or do much of anything because on the rare days I get off I’m so exhausted that I can’t get off the couch. The thing is, I love my job. I’m just so embarrassed to be around anyone that I just want to crawl into my bed and die. Or, at least never show my face again.

Also…oh fuck it. He already knows. He knows, and I’m not sure he minds.

I used to have a pathetic little geek-crush on the busboy who’s literally nearly half my age. His mom came to pick him up once and she’s probably only a few years older than me. Shit. It’s not like I’d ever take it anywhere, but I couldn’t keep my mouth shut about it and now it’s all out there, how fucking sad this is. I told someone that it had “fuck-all to do with him personally and everything to do with the pretty girl hoping she’s still pretty”. Now, I’m not so sure that’s true. He’s like the younger version of my husband, so perhaps it’s some sort of pathetic mid-life-crisis bullshit where I want to have my cake and eat it too.  He’s gone now, but I really miss having a guy to hang around with.

Oh, well. Maybe I just need sleep. If anyone has any ideas on how to stop talking to myself where others can hear-or at least make myself aware of it-that don’t involve sectioning me. I’m all ears. Ditto taking shit personally…I think I need to work on that last one more than anything else.


Spitballs From Heaven

(Since 12/12/18 was last week and the 20-year anniversary of my mom’s death, I thought this warranted being republished.-PQ)

I apologize in advance if this post depresses you. It’s about the death of someone very dear to me and, while it is meant as a tribute, it’s…well, about death. You’ve been warned.

Every May you can’t help but see it-‘Happy Mothers’ Day’. Flowers. Cards. Mugs. Ads for the latest kitchen gadget. They’re everywhere. I suppose that’s all well and good for those who are trying to find presents for their moms, but it doesn’t do much for me. I know she’d hate this, but I can’t stop thinking about how I don’t have a mother. Not in this plane of existence. Not anymore. I don’t normally sit around feeling sorry for myself (well…), but sometimes it just comes.

I remember the day she died. It was December 12, 1998, approx 11:45 pm. Yes, I remember the time. I always will. She had breast cancer…she lived for about a year or so after she first got the diagnosis. For a while, she did relatively well. But then, she didn’t. I saw how the chemo changed this once active and vital woman I loved into someone who didn’t even want to move or eat. I can’t even begin to imagine the pain she was in.

I guess one thing is good, though; she gained a completely new outlook on life. She stopped coloring her prematurely-gray hair. She would laugh and smile more. She stopped feeling depressed about things like her weight…yes, she lost a lot of it, but that’s not the point. The point is that she seemed to see each new day as a gift-a much more positive “lease on life”. I remember she would say that she didn’t want to color her hair anymore and if other people didn’t like it then, tough, because this was her. She did her best to instill confidence in my sister and me, even though she didn’t have much herself. I remember some of my friends were surprised to see me back at school for the semester after she died, but I didn’t know what else to do. It was my last semester of college, so I guess it would have been stupid for me to stay out when I was so close to finishing. But the thing is, she wouldn’t have wanted me to. She would have shot spitballs at me from heaven if I hadn’t gone back. To this day, that’s what I call hail-spitballs from heaven.

Come to think of it, that’s a good thing to do. Remember. I remember the Snickers bars. I remember that it was she who gave me my first Dr. Pepper, and I’m still addicted. 🙂 Dr. Pepper from a can, the drink of the gods. I remember telling her when I got my period. I remember that she had depression issues, and thus was a very good help to my sister and me when we had our problems. I remember how she didn’t want people to put themselves out for her, but would do anything for anyone else. I remember our ‘agreement’ that Pierce Brosnan was gorgeous…I’ve seen some unflattering pictures since, but there’s something about a man with an accent…:)

I remember the stuffed cows she gave me. We both loved cows. I remember how she once saw a stuffed cow in Walmart and bought it for me. What made it special was that she only had the money with her to go to lunch, but instead she used that to buy me the cow. She didn’t eat lunch that day. I’m tearing up a bit…I know It seems small, but it reminds me of what I *don’t* remember. I don’t remember a single selfish act on her part in all of the 21 years I’d had with her. Not one. She devoted her life to our family in a way we may not have noticed growing up, but that made a huge difference in our lives. We truly are better for having known her. If I’m lucky, maybe one day I’ll be *half* the mother and person she was. One can only hope.

Before I forget, here’s the cow:

20150216-201455.jpg

18 years later, I still have it.
I miss you, Mama. I hope I’ve done you proud.

Oh, and, one more memory-I remember how upset I was when I was told that she died rather than being healed on this planet because she didn’t believe God could heal her. That opens up so many other doors for discussion I’m not going to go through here, but I have one word for that-bullshit. She asked us to pray for her on a number of occasions, and prayed herself. Still, despite her treatment, she died. But if you think about it, she was healed. She suffered a number of things on this planet, and now she is somewhere where she will never want for anything ever again. Her depression is gone, her pain is gone, and she is with God. If that isn’t healing, what is?

Goodnight, everyone. Goodnight, Mama.


Christmas list?

This post was originally published in December 2010, but I thought it could use an update. Even though I am working now, I still can’t help but feel like crap because half the time I forget things that are easy for everyone else to remember and I seem to always be doing something wrong. I’m not saying that because I get constant criticism, although it feels like that sometimes. I’m saying that because I’m oversensitive and tend to respond to things like the tones people use when sometimes it’s better to remember that that’s just how someone talks or that this isn’t a good time of the year for me in general. It’s better this year than it has been because I’m working and making money, although I do wish I could see my family and friends more often. Anyway, back to your regularly-scheduled whine-fest.

My husband asked me what I wanted for Christmas. The first things I thought of were a Bible with the Apocrypha in it and/or one of my favorite party games. Of course, we’d actually have to *have* parties in order to play said game, but that’s something else entirely. I can think of a few things I’d like, but I don’t think they would be something he could give me. For instance:

-He can’t give me my brain back. One thing I hate to no end is that I feel like I am ‘slipping’…everyone else ‘gets’ things that I don’t, and I keep missing and forgetting things. I don’t want to immediately say it’s because of my bipolar and/or ADHD, but that’s probably the most likely scenario. My doctors have told me that it affects the way I think; I test lower on IQ tests than I did before because my brain works differently (well, assuming it works at all 😛 ). Seriously. I’ve been told over and over again that I ‘don’t think’ or whatnot, but that’s not true at all. I *do* think, I just tend to think so fast that nothing really ‘sticks’. My last few employers-you know, the two jobs I was fired from in two weeks-can attest to that. It’s just so frustrating, because I feel like everyone else is smarter than me and understands everything much better. Maybe this is true, but maybe I’m just *different*, not any less or any more. I don’t know.

-He can’t help me lose weight. Maybe he can in terms of eating more vegetables and less fatty stuff, but he can’t exercise for me or stop me from liking things like soda and cookies. I feel like I’ve nagged him enough about that in terms of getting him to buy veggies and fruit for produce, although truth be told I really don’t push anywhere near as much as I could. Still, I know that money has been really tight for us and that he feels like the stuff we can afford is often the stuff that’s really the worst for us. He doesn’t say it like that, but that’s what it comes out to. We *do* get canned veggies but It’s up to me to actually *eat* them, or to choose them over other stuff when I have a choice.

-He can’t help me get motivated to do, well, anything. I have so many projects I’ve started that I haven’t finished and don’t really know if I will. A children’s book, a novel of sorts, a few other writing projects…at least I’ve had some stories published, although they haven’t sold yet and *ahem* aren’t the type of stories you let your dad read. I have a couple of tabs open in my browser right now for things I keep meaning to read, but somehow never get around to it because I’m so easily distracted. Maybe at some point I’ll stop playing Facebook games long enough to read the stuff I’m supposed to read on Beliefnet for my job, and Slater, get off the counter,then do some writing I get paid for and Dr Phil’s head looks particularly shiny today….oops, got distracted again.

-He can’t get me to stand up for myself the way I need to.

-He can’t ward off my depression or make other people do stuff with us. They have their own lives and I totally appreciate that, but sometimes I just get bored with the same old thing. Boredom often leads to depression with me and, since I don’t work outside of the home, I get bored quite a bit. It’s gotten better now that we’ve paid the car off and I’ve been doing more stuff at church. Just to get out among other people-especially more women since most of my friends here are men-really helps. Even so, sometimes I still feel really “meh”. Which leads me to my next point:

-He can’t make me feel like less of a piece of crap because I get disability even though a lot of the time I feel as though I can work. I know from experience that my mental issues cause major problems and my physical issues aren’t much better, but that doesn’t stop me from feeling as though I’m one of those “sponges” or “cheats” some people rant about. I would never, ever say that to someone else, but I’ll say that to myself. Hmm.

He can’t change the past, which is ultimately what it would take to ward this off.

That’s just it. He can’t change the past. I know he would if he could, though. The only thing that can be done is to get to be more comfortable and content with the way things are and to try and improve things from there, but that’s something I have to do for myself. I have to ask God to help me with that every day, if I remember. That’s really sad, ‘if I remember’, but the point is that he can’t do it for me because it’s not *for* him to do. It’s for me, with God’s help. And I need all the help I can get.

*sigh*

Maybe I should just stick with new jeans and some bras to replace the ones I can’t wear anymore. That would require a lot less explanation.


Do we ever really grow up?

my-little-pony-468916_640 I had about 40-50 of these growing up. They didn’t look quite this “anime”, but whatever.

I guess I’m thinking about this because a lot of my friends with anxiety or mood disorders of some kind still have a lot of the same fears and frustrations from childhood that everybody else seems to have gotten past. It might just be me, but I think it’s a lot more difficult to let go of things when you have a mind that holds onto absolutely everything and won’t shut up for five seconds.

For instance, my husband has a lot of anxiety about money. There’s a good reason for this-I’ve had so many problems working, which is why I feel like a sorry sack of bipolar scum most of the time. We also went through all of our savings within nine months because I had an accident that rendered me unable to work much for seven months and racked up obscene amounts of bills and stress. But that’s not the point; the point is that any time I mention wanting or needing something, he gets nervous. I know he has anxiety issues, which I guess is one thing that makes him so understanding of the problems I’ve had. He tells me he loves me all the time, that I’m really good for him. I believe it. He’s a lot more than I deserve. Even so, it makes me feel the same way I did when my parents would balk when I needed or wanted anything that cost a lot of money. They didn’t say anything, but they really didn’t have to. The “look” they got on their faces when I mentioned needing $25 for a field trip or $70 to have a new color guard uniform made was enough to make me feel like I did something wrong.

As it turns out, they were having money issues because the treatments my sister got earlier on (doctors, rehab etc) were expensive to the point where they thought they’d have to go bankrupt. At least, this is what my dad told my brother about five years ago. I did not know any of this-I thought that they sent her away because she was bad and they didn’t want her anymore. I feared that, if I wasn’t perfect, I’d be sent away too. If I upset them too much the way she did…and money seemed to be the main thing they got upset about. I used to think that I would probably have turned out less sensitive or whatever had I known some of these things, but whatever. They did the best they could. I know nobody is going to send me away now, just like nobody would have then. Even so, the looks and demeanor my husband sometimes takes when I mention money makes me feel like that ten-year-old kid worried that she did something wrong or the 17-year-old who ran to her room crying when she told her dad how much the “senior stuff” (cap, gown, yearbooks, etc) would cost.

But I’m not a kid anymore. My husband has gotten a lot better about getting nervous and ranting for the same reason-my dad used to do that and it scared the living crap out of me. He didn’t mean to; it just did. To this day, it scares me when a man screams at me in anger. But I’m not a kid anymore. So why should it? Why do I still worry or think I’ve done something wrong anytime someone seems the slightest bit less than happy with me? Or when they seem miffed, period? I know that most people aren’t aware of how their words or non-verbal cues (tone of voice, body language etc) come across. So why do I still pay so much attention to it?

I know I’m not alone in this. It’s just that I think there’s something about the minds of myself and other friends with similar issues (I have a friend with OCD in mind) that holds onto things others would ignore and, in doing so, misses the primary stuff. This isn’t necessarily a bad thing; in fact, it can actually be quite helpful when you’re studying things like philosophy or religion where there are multiple layers you have to sift through. I didn’t realize this before, but one symptom of OCD is unwanted and distressing thoughts. I thought it was just about germs or whatever since that’s what all the movies show, but I learned that my obsession with body odor* and the scary thoughts I’d had about hurting my cats or wondering what would happen if I pushed my Spanish professor off a balcony (no, I didn’t do it) can point back to that too. I don’t want to say I have PTSD because I haven’t had anything traumatic happen that bothers me, but I wonder if people who *do* have even more problems because of the way our minds won’t let anything go.

I think I might have gotten off track here, but my question still stands. Do we ever really forget the things we learned about ourselves when we were growing up? Even if the “lessons” were false, do we ever forget about the bad things we learned enough to focus on the good things? Do we ever get past the memories and the feelings that they bring to light? Or are we destined to mentally become our ten-year-old selves when something goes wrong?

I was going to a great therapist last year, but I had to stop because we couldn’t afford it. I’ve joined a ladies’ depression support group that I think is helping, if only because I get to get out of the house and talk with people outside of our social circle. In fact, that’s what we talked about last week-how simply seeing friends in a different setting that usual can be very helpful.

I don’t know. Maybe I’ll be able to motivate myself enough to write more paid articles rather than playing Pet Rescue Saga and randomly babbling here. If anyone else is in the same “hold onto everything”, tell me in the comments. Maybe then we can figure out how to keep it from sinking.

* Don’t laugh. If you had enough people from high school saying you stink both behind your back and to your face, you’d have a complex too.


The Darkness Within

Forgive me for the randomness and rambling, but I’m in a strange mood I can’t seem to shake.  …not even with ridiculous Bell Biv DeVoe songs, so you *know* must be bad. 🙂

There have been a lot of really messy things in my life, things I can’t always explain. It’s been easy compared to others, but sometimes I feel as though my own heart, my own mind is taking revenge on me. I know it could be worse, but sometimes it is hard for me to see that.

I have an illness-bipolar disorder-that can make me feel as though there were something else inside of me, controlling my thoughts and actions. I do not want this thing to define me or rule my life, but there are times when I can’t really do anything else.  An ex once told me it was a “demon” or “spirit” that needed to be cast out, which I will explain in another blog post. I would normally say he’s full of shit, and I still think he is, but the truth is that it can sometimes feel as though he is right.  He might have meant well but the truth is that he doesn’t understand this, and probably never will. I don’t fault him or anyone else for that, especially considering the fact that sometimes I don’t understand it either. I can read all the self-help books in the world, can spend hours in prayer, do all the things that work for everyone else but for whatever reason, it doesn’t always help.  I’m not saying these things are useless by any means, but they are not the “cures” they are for other people. Again, I don’t want it to define me but I can’t think of any other reason. I’ve had some form of depression and anxiety for as long as I can remember, but I thought it was just normal pubescent angst or a weakness on my part.  As positive and friendly as I usually am, medication has been my saving grace. Surely there is some reason God is allowing me to have all this-in fact, I know there is -but damned if I can figure out what it is sometimes. People give me advice, and I appreciate their concern. There are just some things that people-however well meaning they might be-simply won’t understand until they have been there themselves.

Sometimes, though, I hear something that speaks to me…that tells me, this person knows what’s in my head. This person has ‘been there’…

I love Nine Inch Nails* for this very reason…listening to Trent Reznor and people like him can be very cathartic. Anyone who writes like this just knows:

Hurt*

I hurt myself today
To see if I still feel
I focus on the pain
The only thing that’s real

The needle tears a hole
The old familiar sting
Try to kill it all away
But I remember everything

 

So I don’t run afoul of any copyright laws, you can hear and read the rest here: http://www.azlyrics.com/lyrics/johnnycash/hurt.html

And as if that wasn’t dark enough:

Something I Can Never Have

 

I still recall the taste of your tears.
Echoing your voice just like the ringing in my ears.

[Chorus:]
You make this all go away.
You make this all go away.
I’m down to just one thing.
And I’m starting to scare myself.
You make this all go away.
You make this all go away.
I just want something.
I just want something I can never have

Again, copyright: http://www.azlyrics.com/lyrics/nineinchnails/somethingicanneverhave.html

I’m not quite as dramatic as all that, but it is a strange comfort to me to have this sort of thing to refer to,  if only for inspiration for my own (crappy) writing.

*This is the Johnny Cash cover; his voice just fits so well.


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