Dear Diary,
I think I may be giving up on him. He did exactly what I said with the letter. Questioned me about it, moaned about it, and then discarded it. I later rescued it from the edge of the table, balanced precariously over the waste basket. I don’t know what else to do. He needs to understand that my:
- short and long term memory
- physical coordination and balance
- verbal communication
- verbal comprehension
are all disabled. Not working. I am clumsy, I don’t always understand, I have no sense of time, I forget everything, I have a hard time talking to people, all people. These are my realities. He “doesn’t know what to do with them,” how about “Live with it, or throw me out.” It is so simple.
But he doesn’t want to know. He’s going to use the same reasoning as he did with his family for 16 years, don’t talk to them or about them and they exist in a vacuum. That just isn’t reality.
It was inferred that I was a racist tonight. Groovy. In a FB “Safe space.” A delightful feeling. Being called that by some millenial piece of dren who doesn’t know her ass from her face because she is too young to have a fucking clue. Was I ever that intentionally stupid? I’m sorry to anyone in my early years, if I was. It’s horrible.
And I spectacularly fail at being a part of a group, again. My membership in the Riot Grrrl FB group has come to an end. Racist, butthurt . . . I think I’ve put up with enough from these supposed “riot grrrls.” Fuck them and their Social Saviour complexes. Thinking that somehow telling everyone else what to do and how to think is better than what the conservatives do. That just isn’t for me. So I left with no fanfare. Just gone. I can’t do groups. I can never find an ally, no matter how kindred the spirits are supposed to be. All I find are enemies. So sick of this shit.
This letter thing does not bode well for my future. That’s what most of the letter was about. The future. And that I think I deserve love. That I don’t think it is right that he has witheld love from me for years over crimes I have supposedly committed against him. I needed to make things clear to him without him being able to interrupt about pot or the dishes or feeding the cats or the show he is watching. Because that is what he will talk about instead of my feelings. He will always change the subject and turn it around on me. This was the only way I could communicate with him without getting confused and thrown off track. And he just doesn’t care.