Category Archives: rant

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.


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.


My Brain On OCD

(Warning: this post talks about nightmarish thoughts and might be triggering to some people. Plus, I ramble on like an idiot. That’s nothing unusual.)

Sometimes I really hate my brain.

Right now you’re probably thinking that that isn’t possible, that you have to actually have a brain in order to hate it. Sometimes I feel the same way. But right now I’m frustrated and upset when I have no reason to be.

My doctor calls these OCD tendencies. I never would have thought of that before now because when most of us think of OCD tendencies, we think of people who constantly wash their hands and insist on rubbing everything down with hand sanitizer or wet wipes for fear of catching the slightest germ. We might also have the tendency to worry about body odor, which I definitely have. At one point as a teenager I had 14 different kinds of deodorant because I couldn’t find the right one. Hey, you have people in school saying you stink both behind your back and to your face, you’d have a complex too.  To this day I still wash my underarms when I want to go out, even if I’ve had a shower that day. Anyway, that’s not why I’m writing.

I’m writing because I can’t seem to get all these scary thoughts out of my head. The thing is, these thoughts don’t come after watching horror movies or extremely violent shows; they come from completely random things that make no sense whatsoever. For instance, something I heard years ago on a TV show about some kids being on trial for animal abuse came up when I looked at my orange cat. I see him being thrown from a car and hear the lady who owned him (or, if he’s a typical cat, *he* owned *her*) talking about how everyone she loved had died and that that cat was her only companion in the entire world. It scares me to death because, while I don’t see that happening to my cats, I can’t get it out of my head. Also, this show was on probably 15-20 years ago. The tiniest things that most people wouldn’t even remember bother me.

I also remember how I had a dream that my husband and I were homeless and so desperate for food that we had to eat one of our cats, but we couldn’t figure out how to cook him so he died for nothing. That was a dream I had years ago that had me waking up crying, but it came back full force when I heard a news story where a little boy and his mom had to eat their cat because they had been left homeless by a war in their area and didn’t have anything else. It was one blurb in one news story I can barely remember, but I remember that. I’ve thoughts of abusing one of my other cats, of cutting myself, of stabbing my husband.  When I hear certain songs I imagine myself telling my husband I’m leaving him or that I am having an affair. None of these are true, none of these are even remotely in my character, and yet they remain in my mind.

Also, some of the thoughts aren’t even actions. I’ll look at my husband and hear the “flatline” noise that comes when someone dies.  This is somewhat relevant: he was in the hospital about 7 years ago because of an infection around his heart. Since he has a misshapen valve it was harder to treat; our doctor told us that if the anti-biotics hadn’t taken when they did, he’d have died. I’d be looking at him and think of him being in the Holocaust despite the fact that neither of us were even thought of when that happened-our parents weren’t even born, let alone us. I’ve had thoughts of us being really poor and using our last dollar on a Chinese buffet. I have thoughts of my husband quitting his job and laughing about it while taking me by the hand and us going to a Mexican restaurant and thinking, what have we done? One of the reasons I make up so many romantic stories is so I can keep those thoughts of out of my head enough to go to sleep. The weird thing is that this happens even when I take my sleep medication, but not when I don’t. If that makes sense.  Either way, it doesn’t matter since they usually come when I’m awake. Creepy.

I’m told that that’s the rub about OCD tendencies-that we *know* we would never do the things we think of doing or that these things would never happening, and yet the thoughts persist and come into our heads at completely random and unpredictable times. When I remind myself that that’s what’s going on, I feel better. Sometimes. Sometimes that either does nothing or gets worse. That’s why my doctor put me back on Prozac-apparently that’s the only thing that helps.

I don’t really have an ending for this, so thanks for listening to me rant. I hope I’m not alone in all this.


A Rather Interesting Video, And An Example Of Ineffective ‘Evangelism’

A friend of mine posted a link to this video on Facebook today. Regardless of what you think about abortion, it’s definitely worth viewing.

Two Abortion Protesters Decided To Yell At This Guy’s Wife. They Probably Shouldn’t Have Done That.

http://www.upworthy.com/two-abortion-protesters-decided-to-yell-at-this-guys-wife-they-probably-shouldnt?c=bl3

I have to applaud this man for having the guts to call the protestors onto the carpet. I don’t like the idea of an abortion-I don’t know anyone who does-,but I understand that there might be situations like this man’s wife’s where it’s really ‘the lesser of the two evils’. I can’t imagine that these parents would do this if they didn’t feel they absolutely had to. I certainly wouldn’t. I’ve never been in this situation, and that is this man’s point-you just don’t *know*. There’s nothing wrong with demonstrating your beliefs in public, but it stands to show that we should be careful as to how we do so. Some people would liken tempering our methods to being ‘ashamed’ of the Gospel or not ‘standing up for God’, but it’s not a matter of trying to please others so much as trying to communicate in a way people are willing and likely to listen to.

I’ve seen protesters like this in front of Walmart ranting about gay people and abortion. They bore signs that said things like ‘I chose Jesus, you chose to be gay’ and waved a fishing pole with a red-painted baby doll tied to it. I suppose this was to represent an aborted fetus, but it was unnecessarily graphic and probably grossed more people out than it ‘reached’.

I assume that the ‘I chose Jesus’ sign was supposed to get people to come to Jesus, but what does it tell the person about Him? Nothing. What does it say about the person holding the sign? A lot. It says that that person thinks they are better than others, that they are somehow ‘more saved’, ‘more loved’ by God than someone else. They say they want people to be ‘saved’, but they’ve pretty much ensured that anyone who sees those signs or hears what they’re saying is going to keep on walking. In addition, some of the people they are supposedly trying to ‘help’ by their protests will probably run screaming from the very *mention* of Christianity, even if they would otherwise embrace it. I’ve seen it a million times.

Several of my non-Christian friends tell me that they see me as ‘the exception’ because I *don’t* get in people’s faces and act like I’m better than they are, I *don’t* preach hate as opposed to love and I *don’t* try to shove things down their throats. The fact is that I’m *not* the exception-it’s just that we’re not as loud as the screamers and ‘judges’. Maybe we *should* be. Maybe we *should* be like this man sometimes. Even if he didn’t mention Jesus outright, he makes the point that there are a lot more effective ways to help people than screaming at them and making them want to ignore you. To me, working to make sure our message is effective and shows the love we claim to preach *is* standing up for God-Hopefully I can figure out a way to be brave enough to do it.

 


The Man On The Street-literally

I met a man this evening. A very interesting man, with a remarkably positive attitude, especially given his circumstances. I had occasion to meet him as my husband and came out of one of our favorite pizza restaurants downtown and he stopped to ask us if we knew where he could find work. He didn’t start out asking for money like a lot of people do, although that did happen later on. No, he told us that he had been looking for work for ages upon ages, to no avail. It wasn’t that he wasn’t intelligent or a good person to be around, because he seemed to be both. No, it was because the economy has hit so many people upside the head that no one could afford to hire him (or anyone else) to do much of anything. He had a place to live, which was one positive point. We gave him what was left of one of our pizzas, since we couldn’t do a whole lot else. It wasn’t this part of the story that struck me and inspired me to write, though. That came later.

He told us he had terminal cancer. Brain cancer, and was trying to get the money to pay for one of his anti-seizure medications. God knows I know how expensive meds can be, and how unpleasant life can be without them. And let’s not even mention that cancer made my once-vibrant and active mother practically waste away. I’m sorry I had to put it like that, Mama, but cancer just has to be one of the worst things ever created. That wasn’t what bothered me the most, though.

I’ll admit that this is a subject I only know a little about, if anything at all. But then, since when has that ever stopped me? 🙂

What bothered me the most was that he told us he was a Vietnam veteran and had finally gotten an award letter for money and benefits from the VA (Veterans’ Administration). That war ended on April 30th, 1975. This is October 25, 2010. Thirty-five years, and they were just now getting to him. This disgusts me, but unfortunately does not surprise me. I’m not sure if the cancer was a result of something from the war or if it came on its own later, but it pisses me off royally that someone who took the time and effort to serve our country-who literally put his life on the line-has to beg on the street for money for his medications. Granted, he was going to get a decent sum as the ‘back pay’ for the time it took them to get their stuff together, but that’s not really the point. The point is that here was yet another person who did their part in serving their country (and the draft was around in Vietnam, so it might not have been by choice), and what did he have to show for it? What was his thanks? A lot of red tape, and that’s better than a lot of other people get. At least he had a home; so many others don’t.

It was just so beautiful to me to see his positive demeanor. I think he mentioned being blessed and trying to trust in God about five times in that short, maybe 10-minute conversation. I’ve completely lost faith over much smaller things. Whether he actually wrote it or not, he shared with us a beautiful poem about a rose-about how God takes such good care of small things like that, so how much more must He love us? That’s reminds me of one of my favorite parts of the Bible-Matthew 6:25-34. –

25 “Therefore I say to you, do not worry about your life, what you will eat or what you will drink; nor about your body, what you will put on. Is not life more than food and the body more than clothing? 26 Look at the birds of the air, for they neither sow nor reap nor gather into barns; yet your heavenly Father feeds them. Are you not of more value than they? 27 Which of you by worrying can add one cubit to his stature?
28 “So why do you worry about clothing? Consider the lilies of the field, how they grow: they neither toil nor spin; 29 and yet I say to you that even Solomon in all his glory was not arrayed like one of these. 30 Now if God so clothes the grass of the field, which today is, and tomorrow is thrown into the oven, will He not much more clothe you, O you of little faith?
31 “Therefore do not worry, saying, ‘What shall we eat?’ or ‘What shall we drink?’ or ‘What shall we wear?’ 32 For after all these things the Gentiles seek. For your heavenly Father knows that you need all these things. 33 But seek first the kingdom of God and His righteousness, and all these things shall be added to you. 34 Therefore do not worry about tomorrow, for tomorrow will worry about its own things. Sufficient for the day is its own trouble.

I say that this is one of my favorite parts of the Bible, but it’s one that I constantly seem to forget about when dealing with everyday things. Granted, I have had a lot of trouble with money and other things lately, but nothing even close to what so many other people have. Meeting this man tonight was a good reminder of that, of how I should be thankful for what I have and trust in God to take care of me. That is one of the hardest things for me to do, to stop worrying and trust. I don’t know why.

Now, I know you’re probably thinking, how do you know he was telling the truth? I don’t. He could have been feeding us a line of bull that would make Nixon look honest, and I’d be none the wiser. That happens. However, I’ve heard enough similar stories to know that it’s very possible for someone to fall through the cracks like this. On the other side of the coin, my uncle gets very nice care from the VA in his area for his cancer. He has late-stage lymphoma and has been able to get a good bit of help from the VA in terms of medicine. He, however, is one of the lucky ones. Blessed ones, rather. He was in the Navy for 26 years-a person is considered ‘career’ and eligible for a pension and all that after 20 years. My father gets a pension, and he was in for 21 years. I certainly don’t begrudge my father and uncle their benefits; God knows they need and deserve it. I just wish that the man I met on the street this evening had been that fortunate. Granted, the man I talked to probably wasn’t in for that long, but It takes a special breed of person to do that kind of job for such a long time, especially after having been to war. God knows, I couldn’t do it. Even so, surely a country that claims to be the richest and most powerful in the world would be able to at least take care of people who had to go to war and come back the worse for it. Again, I’m not sure that this man’s cancer was caused by something in the war, but so many other people have lifelong disabilities as a result of military service. It’s not only the physical disabilities I’m thinking of, although those are no small potatoes. However, mental disorders like Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder (PTSD) that often occurs in veterans is nothing to sneeze at. In a sense, that could be more debilitating than some of the physical problems, because there isn’t really a one-size-fits-all treatment for it. I’ve known people who are simply not the same as they were when they left; they don’t regret serving, but they can’t help but see that they were changed by their experiences in ways that they don’t always understand.

I am all for the military, but I am also all for people who give up as much as they do being at least given what they need to live and have their illnesses cared for. I know cancer treatment is extraordinarily expensive, but I would hope that people with less serious medical problems than terminal cancer would have what they need to live and work in ‘the civilian life’. A lot of them do, but a lot more of them don’t. I think that is disgustingly maddening and sad at the same time. With all the money this country has spent on wars that are based on lies and getting involved where perhaps they shouldn’t, you’d think they’d be able to afford this man’s anti-seizure medication. But then, maybe they just don’t want to.


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