Dear Diary,
The following rant applies only to people living in Las Vegas that I have to deal with “IRL”.
I have had it. Let this be my manifesto, my open letter. I’m done. I am sick and bloody buggery tired of the following:
- Having every promise made to me broken
- Being lied to constantly “for my own good”
- Being held to account for every thing I do and every reaction people have to me while no one else, none of the “sane” people take any personal responsibility for themselves.
- Being discounted and disregarded.
- Not being told what is really going on in MY life because reasons.
I’ve had it. No more. Online, I demand, or require, a modicum of respect, and I try in all areas of my life to earn that from people. IT DOESN’T WORK IN PERSON. People are asshats. They have no concept of what they are doing at any given time and just disregard folks, because reasons.
And meanwhile, I am held brutally responsible for everything including how people react to me. If someone calls me a “nutball” behind my back, it is my fault for making them think that about me. Whether I did anything or not. And every promise made to me is broken. Every damn one. It’s like the world just tells me what they think I want to hear so I won’t get “crazy”, and then I just won’t remember their commitments to me. I may be horribly late with my shit, but I DO it eventually. I keep my promises as much and as hard as I can.
And I’m sick of people going off on me to vent, and then denying it and turning it around on me, because I’m crazy and who will believe me?
SICK OF IT!
I have been working my ass off for 35 years to get better. I have ingested poisons, I have been shocked with electricity. Why is this not enough for the world to just relax and tell me something true? I suppress my feelings and sit quietly and “take it”, and I’m not doing it anymore. I’m tired of people starting fights with me and then I end up having to apologize. Enough!
Why is it that people on line get this, but people in my face are oblivious? Is it the teeth? What?
This is giving me a complex, I may end up in therapy over this shit, it’s gotten that bad.
And the next person to ask me if I have been taking my meds because I had a negative reaction to their dumbfuckery, is getting stabbed through the heart. While I am on my meds.
It was pointed out to me that for many many years, I have just sat back and let other people make decisions for me, and when I make decisions for myself, they get scared. And I’m just not going to do it anymore.
I want an answer, am I going to have to move to Pittsburgh or have Kelli move out here to take care of me? Is Doc going home to take care of his mother, or not? Now he says she’s in Tennessee. I don’t believe him. He hasn’t called home since he got back from his dad’s funeral.
Just like he told me, angrily, that UBER was $40 to and from work, each way. It’s not even that expensive in a cab.
STOP LYING TO ME!
Don’t tell me the cat fixed when the cat is not fixed and he pisses all over my stuff. Don’t tell me you are going to go get my prescription filled while you are the only one taking it because you need it more than me, and then don’t go get it for three weeks. Just fucking don’t. Don’t tell me the scooter is going to get fixed, don’t tell me someone is going to come over and help take care of me, don’t make me count on you, because I can’t.
I just used my illness to save his job. Literally. I manipulated my doctor to get some forms to save Doc’s job because he took too many days off, and it wasn’t to be with me, helping. I did that for him. And it made me feel like shit, because my doctor and I are supposed to be better to each other than that. He has a code of ethics, as should I. But I did it. And I let him use my illness to get out of all kinds of shit. He’s used me as a scapegoat to the point where most of his friends hate or fear or mock me. You would think, maybe, as a side bonus, not the reason I did it, but as a “thank you”, maybe, he could give me a fucking break and tell me what the next year is going to bring to my life and where my fate stands.
That’s just an example. It’s not just him, and it isn’t Kelli. It’s him and the other people in our lives. I am so tired of it. I want to run away from home. Fly out, meet up with Kelli, grab her nephew, and go underground. Just disappear.
It’s all piled up with the realization that I can either ride out this horrible grief process and hope it ends and just suck it up, or leave him. Those are my choices. They may not seem bad to you, they probably seem really trivial, but they are mine and they do not make me happy.
And that’s where I’m at. He finally went to bed. Not without a parting shot, but he finally went to bed. I’m going to be spending a lot of time in the studio in the near future. He didn’t even thank me for bringing his stuff in out of the rain and piling it in the middle of my studio, where there is no room for it and me. Nice.
At least I don’t have siblings that talk to me.