May Have Mercy

Source: helenkorpa Flikr

May has only been here for 9 days, but - as I predicted over a month ago - it's been a shit-show.  One bloody thing after another. Fate just won't give up and seems determined to pummel me.

From having no money (seriously, my checking account is beyond overdrawn), and minimal job prospects (who wants to hire a 22 year old college drop-outwith no degree or credentials or lengthy experience in anything? No one.) and my mother being more malicious and vindictive than usual, this month's got it in for me. As in, I don't see myself living past 22 anymore.  I mean, my initial freak-out last month was more panic than anything, but after today. . .

I don't understand how my mother can say the things she says to me.  She seems to make it her life's work to make me feel as small and worthless as possible at every opportunity.  I don't understand how someone who is supposed to love me can say such cruel, painful, paralyzing things and then walk away like I'm nothing more than a problem that won't fix itself.  The things she said this afternoon - saying I'm useless, that I need to quit wallowing and do something productive, that I don't have an excuse for not doing things, and criticizing my cleaning skills (neglecting the fact that I live with a 50 year old man who doesn't understand the concept of cleaning up after himself) - were hurtful to say the least.  The tone in her voice though, like I was something less than human she was disgusted with. . . That left me nearly catatonic but for tears when she finally left.

I sought consolation from my brother, who sympathized but wasn't comforting.  All he said was that as long as I live somewhere where she foots the bill, I have to suck it up and deal. He also admitted that, considering my income and the money I owe various peoples and organizations, I'm stuck here for the foreseeable future.

At the rate Life keeps piling shit on me, I expect Hell will break loose by my birthday - but again, at this rate, I don't think I'll stick around to see it.


Tonight I'll just content myself with a few more scars.

“And I hide because there’s more to me than what you see and I’m not sure you’d like the rest. I know that sometimes, I don’t like the rest.”

—	I Wrote This For You: The Remaining Mirrors

Confession

So I have a confession to make, and I'm not proud of it, but I really need to come clean (to all 3 people who read this ever). I folded today. Wait. Let me start from the beginning.

Yesterday I kept thinking about it. I'd concentrate on something and then this would take over my thoughts until I was consumed with it. So last night I set an alarm and this morning I woke up eager and excited and ready. I had breakfast and did some reading, waiting for the right time. But as the minutes ticked by, I could feel it starting. An hour later I woke up on the floor under my kitchen table.

You see, I had planned on going Free Hugging this afternoon in Claremont. Instead I got to spend most of the afternoon recovering from a full-blown panic attack complete with a blackout. I told myself I'd go at noon, which turned into 1pm. By 11:30 I was nauseated and when I stood up to make myself a cup of tea I was so dizzy I instantly had to sit back down. Around 12:20 I started having trouble breathing and couldn't stop shaking and then all of a sudden it was 1:05 and I was under the table with no recollection of having slid out of my chair and onto the floor.

I just re-read that and it makes it sound so much worse than it was. Not that it wasn't an awful experience, but I've had these episodes before. (The blackouts are still kind of scary, though.) I'm just upset - ashamed, really - that I let it take hold of me before I could even get out the door. And I wanted to Hug so badly this week but I let my fucking social anxieties get in the way. Again. Bloody fuck. Sorry. I just feel so weak and stupid about today being completely wasted because of a stupid panic attack that could've been avoided if I'd just forced myself to crawl out the door. Then again, I might have had a worse attack once I'd reached my destination and panic attacks in public are waaaaaaaaay worse than panic attacks in the safety of one's home.

The worst part is I feel like I'm continuing a pattern of self-sabotage. And.. God this is hard to say... It's almost as if part of me wants to be like this. I spend every day fighting back all my dark thoughts and at the end of the day fighting to go to sleep but somehow I can't help thinking that part of me wants to keep my D--------- because it's become such a defining part of who I am now. And then at the same time I'm screaming inside that I want all of this to go away so I can be normal again and go back to school and go on dates and not be constantly fighting all the goddamn time.

In other news, I calculated and have just enough money to buy groceries, put gas in my car and pay back some of the money I owe my mother, but my Uncle doesn't have a filter and eats constantly, I haven't slept properly in over a week because of my grandmother's fucking cat, I'm as lonely as ever and I received a final notice on a delinquent payment for one of my old student loans which I can't afford to pay right now. I'm exhausted from keeping up with housework and my job and my "resolutions" and my brother has applied for (and RECEIVED) a job transfer to be with his precious bitch and is taking his daughter with him. Did I mention this job transfer puts him over AN HOUR AWAY FROM HERE? No? Well consider it mentioned.

“It seemed unreasonable, unfair, that a woman so young and beautiful should be so exhausted. Of course, it was neither unreasonable nor unfair. Exhaustion pays no mind to age or beauty. Like rain and earthquakes and hail and floods." ~ Haruki Marukimi, Dance, Dance, Dance (1994)

This has just turned into a royal fuckup of a week, but really, complaining about it isn't going to make it better. I just don't know what will, though.