This blog often contains uncomfortable subject matter and occasional sexual content. If you don't want to read about it, empower yourself to close the page. ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Fuck. I have this urge to contact everyone I've ever had prolonged interactions with and apologize to them for who I am and who I've been. I want to cut off all ties from everyone except my family, move far away and not form any new attachments. I feel like I am a tremendous burden to my friends, boyfriend, family, and even to my coworkers. I am losing it. I'm hurting myself again. I've been cutting and beating myself. Today a coworker was joking around with me and instead of playing it cool, I acted all awkward. My own insecurity is what makes people uncomfortable. It shines through, I can't hide it no matter how hard I try, and it makes every conversation I have feel forced and awkward. So once he went back to his desk I went into the bathroom and hit my legs over and over. I have bruises, large, noticeable bruises forming. I took out one of my earrings and cut my arm and my leg. I get the urge to do this every time I have a failed conversation. BK and I got into a huge, crazy, stupid fight last night. It lasted until almost three in the morning. It happens every month, he makes some comment that offends me, and I express that I'm offended. He then proceeds to tell me all about how much more he's read than I have and that my "liberal white guilt" causes me to be overly politically correct. He talks down to me, like I could never understand things on his level, because I'm a brainwashed sheep like all of the others. And he makes me feel incredibly guilty, like the whole fight was my fault, and that my insecurities cause me to project my issues onto him, blah blah. He always manages to remove all of the blame from himself and places it all on me instead. And I eat that shit right up because at that point I'm in such a fucked up emotional state, I'll probably believe any horseshit people tell me about myself. He is manipulating my thought patterns and he won't admit it, probably doesn't even realize it. He wants to appear to be the calm, composed boyfriend, while in the meantime I'm the crazy PMS irrational girlfriend. He wants to make it clear, not only to me but to himself because he can't admit when he's at fault, that every time we fight it is because I'm fragile. You know what? I am fragile. I feel like I'm breaking. I feel like something in me is about to shatter. I am incredibly insecure and needy and I require constant validation in order to keep me in good spirits. I can't express myself adequately to the point that I feel rage toward myself, rage toward my inability to convey my thoughts and emotions to others. But that does not give him the right to use my insecurities against me to win every argument we ever have. He says it's not a competition, that I'm the only one competing, but if that's true then why doesn't he ever give me a chance to explain my side? He can't comprehend the idea that maybe once in a while, I know something that he doesn't. That I understand something that he doesn't. Or heaven fucking forbid, that I've actually read something too. Oh no, if I've read something then surely he's read more on the subject than I have. He won't admit it, probably won't even admit it to himself, but in his mind he thinks he's better than me. He knows he's smarter than me. He doesn't take me seriously and I am starting to think he never will. I want to break up with him. 5:29 p.m. - 2009-02-20 ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Rage Okay, I have serious anger issues. I was pissed off because my preferred bathroom at work was being cleaned, and okay, I'll say it, I needed to have a bowel movement. I tried to use the other bathroom, but there were these two women standing around talking. One of them left, but the other one stayed to put on makeup or something. I can't go with people in the room. I don't want an audience while I shit. I fucking hate public restrooms. So instead of going to the store to buy food and having a nice, leisurely lunch in the break room, I had to go home so I could use the bathroom, and now I have to rush to cook some shitty boxed pasta mix. And on the way home everyone was driving like an idiot, drifting back and forth between lanes, going five miles under the speed limit, you know, standard driving practices in this town. So I get home and I'm pissy, and BK's just about to leave for work, and we get into this weird argument about what cortisol does to the body and when it's released. I said it's called the "stress hormone" and it can cause weight gain. BK said it's what gets released when you hug someone. He might be right about the hug thing. Lots of chemicals and hormones are released at different times for different reasons. But he would not believe me about the weight gain. I know I was right. I read all of the stupid weight loss articles online. The fact that he never takes me seriously, that he always insists that he must know more than me because he claims to spend all of his waking hours reading shit on the internet, infuriates me. So he left for work and I went into the bathroom and scratched my wrists with my nails and hit my left forearm with the first object I saw, a can of air freshener. I hit both thighs and my right calf, too. It's going to bruise. I'm wearing three quarter length sleeves today, too. My coworkers are going to think I'm abused. Ugh. I've had the urge to hurt myself pretty often lately. I hit myself in the head the other night, something I haven't done in a long time. I have had a tension headache for at least a week now. I figured, if my head's going to hurt, I'll give it a reason to hurt. I wanted to cut myself last night, with a sharp kitchen knife. I almost did, but decided against it. If I had done it, it would have been on my forearm, and it would have been to get BK's attention. That's high school logic, and I'm not going to give in to that. I have to go back to work now, and sit at my desk all day doing nothing because hey guess what! I ran out of work at 10:27 this morning. Fuck this day. 11:07 a.m. - 2009-02-19 ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Lonely as usual Every night when I get home from work, I check my phone before I get out of my car. I do this to avoid the disappointment of opening my front door and finding that yet again, BK is not home. He almost always sends me a text telling me who he's with and what they're doing. Sometimes I call him or text him back to get more details. He almost always says he won't be gone long, but it's never true. He is gone for at least half the night, almost every night. By the time he gets home, I'm ready for bed. I try not to, but I can't help perceiving his frequent absences as abandonment. I can't help feeling hurt that he would rather spend every night out with his boys than with me. He says that he misses me and that he feels like his friends run him ragged, but if that's the case, why doesn't he just tell them he'd rather stay home? I feel so lonely most of the time. BK's never home, I don't really have friends of my own except for a few people that I usually don't have the energy to deal with. I don't hang out with MD and HB much anymore because CG is always with them, and frankly, I can't fucking stand him anymore. I know that it's unhealthy to stay at home alone all the time, but I don't know what else to do. I need to meet new people, but I don't know where to start. I thought about joining a stitch n' bitch group, but the thought of meeting new people who might potentially reject me is terrifying. To make matters worse, I spent most of day at work today in silence. It was RW's day off, and Hill was in training all day. And I found out that starting Monday, she will no longer be working in my department. I'm going to spend nine hours every Wednesday with nobody to talk to. And even during the other work days, the only people I talk to are all over fifty. Hill and VH are the only people my age who really talk to me, and VH doesn't really bother much anymore. I think she got tired of waiting for me to come out of my shell. Ugh, I'm in the worst mood tonight. I have PMS and I just want to hide in my bedroom and sleep until it goes away. No more cat piss ammonia smell, no more dishes that BK promised to wash over a week ago, no more loneliness or anxiety. But none of that is going away until I do something about it. Ugh. Fuck it, I'm going to the grocery store to buy a frozen pizza and a pint of ice cream. I'll deal with that shit after I partake in some hardcore comfort eating. 5:35 p.m. - 2009-02-18 ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Can't sleep I've been having the same problem the last few nights. I'll get tired and go to bed early, then something like the cats or BK or drunken neighbors will wake me up around 1:00 or 2:00, and I can't fall asleep again for hours. I think I've been awake for at least an hour now. It's fucking frustrating. Especially tonight, because it was the fucking cat who woke me up. I have my female cat in the bathroom because she just got back from the vet. The male cat smells the vet's office on her, and now he wants to kill her. So he woke me up when he was pawing at the bathroom door trying to get to her, and I haven't been able to get back to sleep since then. This happens every time I take my cat to the vet's and I'm getting really fucking sick of it. When this happens the only thing I can think of to do is smoke half a bowl and go back to sleep. It's early enough that the effects would wear off by the time I get up for work, but it's not without consequences. It makes me paranoid while I'm drifting off to sleep. I swear that I hear little noises out in the living room. More often than not it's just my imagination, or my asshole upstairs neighbor sprinting around his apartment at all hours. But in my head it's somebody in my apartment, or one of the cats getting into something off limits, and I have to get up and check. After I repeat this a few times, I feel wide awake and keep tossing and turning. So then when I am finally able to sleep, the weed makes me have fucked up anxiety dreams. Last night I had a dream that my mother called to lecture me about something. I'm left with the impression that I also had nightmares last night, but I can't remember. I do remember that I kept BK up with my constant trips to the living room or bathroom, the tossing and turning, throwing my pillow in frustration, and swearing under my breath. So tonight I just decided, fuck it. I don't need to sleep. That's what coffee's for. God I fucking hate this morning. 2:28 a.m. - 2009-02-17 ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- |
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