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Blah, blah, boring updates

BK bought a car today, so that's neat. Now he's got reliable transportation to take him to work and anywhere else he pleases. My car's still fucked up. I took it to the dealership in town and the fuckers tried to tell me that I'd need a new engine, despite ZB insisting that I wouldn't. They also told me that since I couldn't provide a log of maintenance, it wouldn't be covered under warranty. I lied and said that I didn't have a log because my dad and boyfriend had done all the work, and they told me they'd call the warranty company to see if they would cover it.

That day, I spent most of my workday fighting off panic attacks. Then in the afternoon, they called to say that if I had any chance of convincing the warranty company to cover the repairs, I'd have to take it to the original dealership that I bought it from, the next county over. Oh, and they also told me that they never actually looked at the car or took anything apart... They just turned it on and listened to the noise it makes, and decided that I would most certainly need a new engine. In short, they tried to scam me.

So anyway, I am not about to spend a crap-ton of money towing my car all the way to the dealership only to find out that it's still not covered under warranty. I need to get ahold of the warranty company, but they don't even list their phone number on their website. I could probably get it pretty easily from the dealership, I've just been procrastinating.

Other than all the car stuff, and the intense loneliness I've been experiencing lately, things are going okay? Work's been more tolerable. They gave me a new title (note: not a promotion and not a raise) that basically means I'm a good person to go to with questions about processing and procedures. I will probably promoted to a Level 2 Peon pretty soon, which will include a minuscule raise, so hopefully I will be able to at least afford better quality groceries, or maybe the occasional restaurant date.

Honestly, I don't care about the new title or the upcoming promotion much. I still plan on quitting eventually, and I still hate the job. But I am extremely proud of myself for working so hard to socialize with my coworkers more. I talk to all of the people who sit near my desk now. I make small talk with people in the break rooms. I speak up more often in meetings, and joke around more. And since I've got this new title and I'm responsible for answering my coworkers' questions, I'm getting more opportunities to push myself to interact with people.

The weirdest thing is, a lot of people have noticed the recent changes in my behavior and are coming out of the woodwork to tell me they're proud of me, or at least to congratulate me on my new title. I'm not used to getting so much support, especially from people who barely know me. It's very flattering and makes me feel good, but also makes me feel a little uneasy and I'm not sure why. I never have known how to handle praise, I guess.

In addition to work going better, BK and I have been doing pretty well. We've been very affectionate, and he's been making an effort to let me know how much he appreciates me. And he tells me how proud he is of me when he sees how I've been coping with the stress related to my car troubles, or when I tell him about how I've been talking to more people at work. He's been pretty supportive lately, and I'm glad to have him around. That is, when he's actually around. That's really the only problem lately, he's so busy working, he's almost never home. And he's still involved with the same band, but has started collaborating on two other separate projects. So there aren't a lot of evenings that he's able to spend with me lately. I miss him, but I'm glad his life's picking back up. I just wish mine would.

7:31 p.m. - 2010-11-19

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Friends

Every couple of months I check my facebook account. It's always depressing to check in on my old friends, most of whom I haven't contacted in at least a year or two. They are living their lives, and I'm... not. They post pictures of themselves traveling, baking, crafting, attending concerts and parties... And I've spent the last two years as an agoraphobic, friendless shut-in. I have made enormous strides over the last year on the road to living something resembling a real life, but I still have a very long way to go before I can feel normal again. And I still don't feel ready to make friends despite my desperately needing some.

I miss some of them. I miss LH, KH, and JesR. I miss MD too, but I'm pretty sure he's a lost cause as I can't be friends with him unless I let HB back in. He never was the same once HB came back from Europe, anyway. The moment she stepped off the plane, he stopped being my best friend and started being her lapdog again. But I'm getting off-topic. My point is, I miss them, and I regret losing touch, but I'm terrified to invite them back into my life.

It's not just the fear that they'll reject me as punishment for abandoning them (although that fear is definitely present). It's not so much the guilt that' s holding me back either, although I do feel like I don't really deserve to have any of them back. What prevents me from reaching out to my old friends or trying to make new ones, is the fear that if I do reach out, I'll eventually repeat the whole pattern again. I'm afraid that I can't handle the commitment required to maintain friendships. I have such a hard time pushing myself through everyday life as it is. Any setback, such as a financial crisis, family troubles, problems with BK, work stress, etc, can send me spiraling into an avoidant, chaotic depression. I'm afraid that I'll finally let them back in, and then face another emotional crisis and desert them again. People only forgive that sort of behavior so many times before they just cut you off for good.

The idea of letting people in, of letting someone get close to me, terrifies me. Back when I had my old group of friends, I rarely let them get any closer than an arm's length. I didn't say what was really on my mind, just smiled and nodded in agreement to what they thought. I felt that I had to keep up the facade, or else they might find out how I "really was". My self esteem was terrible back then, and I felt that there was something inherently wrong with me, that I was fundamentally, unforgivably flawed. I thought that if I were to just be myself, everyone would be appalled and would never want to see me again.

Now, even though I realize that I have every right to think and behave in ways that feel right, that feel authentic to me, I still can't let those people back in. I don't even entirely understand why not. It sucks, though. I really do miss LH and KH a lot. And hell, I miss BRS. I'm even afraid to get close to BRS. And I feel that it's an awful crime that I'm not there for her and for MLS while they're in high school, the time they need their big sister the most.

Wow, so I'm really depressed tonight, I guess.

7:36 p.m. - 2010-11-18

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...

According to ZB, the problem with my car is not nearly as bad as we had all assumed. And it might not even be my fault. So fuck my family for being such assholes about it.

I will still need to drop a few hundred bucks to fix it, but I'm at least able to breathe a little easier knowing that I won't have to spend thousands of dollars that I don' t have. BK can help, and if I absolutely have to, I can count on my mom for a loan.

I'm still immensely stressed out. I've been careless and self destructive. I'm not taking care of my home, not eating right, and making my wrist tendonitis worse by playing video games. I need to force myself to stop playing or else my wrists will never heal, and I won't be able to knit or crochet again.

I have been idly toying with the idea of drawing lately. I need a creative outlet to replace crochet. But every time I sit down with a sketch pad and pencil, I find myself paralyzed. My mind goes blank and I get this feeling of dread in my stomach. I managed to draw part of a very basic, slightly cartoony female figure this evening before I petered out. Most of the time, I have a really hard time pushing myself to even try. I'm so critical of my mistakes, I don't even give myself the chance to make them.

I'm asking for a few drawing instruction books for Christmas this year. I'm hoping that if I have step by step instructions and explanations of light and shadow, perspective, etc, I may be able to overcome the anxiety.

8:26 p.m. - 2010-11-06

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Fucking fuck y'all

You know... I want some fucking acknowledgment for not completely losing my shit. My mom, grandparents, boyfriend, coworkers... They have no fucking idea how hard I work to hold myself up, to keep it all together, at least until I can find a safe, private space in which to fall apart. When I need support, it comes from me. When I need help, I rarely ask.

They view me as weak, incompetent. Fuck them! I have been steadily employed, living on my own since I was nineteen. I pay my rent, including BK's half of the rent. I, pay all the utilities. I have never asked my mom for help with my car payments, car insurance payments, etc. I could probably count the times I've had to swallow my pride and ask my mom for more than $50 on one hand.

My point is, I've been almost entirely self sufficient for four years, and now she's giving me shit for finally asking for favors?! I'm driving the family's extra car so that BK can use mine to commute 45 minutes to and from work every day. Note: Key word is extra. My parents both have cars to get them to and from work. My sister has her nice new car to take her to school. I get why my dad wants the extra car back, I really do. It gets better mileage than his truck, and the heater in his truck doesn't work. I didn't plan to keep the car this long, but now I'm in the midst of a financial crisis.

I waited too long (read: completely forgot) to change my oil. So with BK driving it so far every day, it took its toll on the car. Now it's making this horrible chugging noise. I am pretty sure we've done damage that can't be fixed. I will probably have to buy a whole new engine. Yes, it is stupid to not get my oil changed. Yes, I am ashamed. No, I don't want to hear about what a terrible mistake I've made for the hundredth time, mom, BK, and various family members and coworkers (Goddamnit, this is why I never used to tell anybody anything).

So my mom's on my case to get BK's mechanic friend ZB to look at it. He works full time, and has a life of his own. Plus, since I don't know him, I'm pretty much at BK's mercy here. He hasn't called him all week. I asked him again to call tonight. I predict that it will "slip his mind" until he comes home from his friends' house much later than he estimated, when I will remind him yet again.

If he doesn't call tonight, I'm just going to schedule an appointment at the dealership. I was hoping to get a trustworthy mechanic to at least tell me what's wrong, since we all know dealerships and auto repair shops love to scam on women who don't know much about cars. But fuck it, I'll pay whatever. And BK will help, and I'll ask my mom for some fucking help too.

I'm tired of paying for BK's shit for a goddamned year only to watch him spend part of his first paycheck on weed, knowing full goddamn well that I need his help paying for car repairs. He even offered to help! So when I say I'm not going to refill the weed until this car situation is taken care of, he goes out and buys some himself. Way to be a responsible adult.

And I'm even more tired of being a responsible adult for over four years now, and my mother still treats me like a selfish teenager any time I actually need help. Meanwhile my selfish teenage sister insists on brand name clothes, trendy phones, and a new, expensive car when she already had a perfectly good, albeit scratched up, used car to drive to school and work. Yeah, that's why my family has the extra car: Because MLS was too cool to be seen in it. Little bitch used my mom's credit card without her permission to buy herself a tanning package while she was employed as a lifeguard this summer. But now that I need a little help, I'm being unreasonable?

She called tonight to ask what I'd found out about the car. I told her nothing, we hadn't gotten ZB to come look at it yet. She kept saying I should call when I find anything out... I said, "Mom, why do you want me to call, it's my car, I'll deal with it when I can." I did not use an angry tone, I said it very calmly. She said, "Well, if you're gonna be like that with me..." Fuck, I was not going to take that shit from her, not right now when I'm under all this stress and actually doing a pretty good job of coping with it for the most part. I don't deserve to be talked to that way. I asked her, "What way am I being?" I said, "I don't want to be lectured like I'm a kid again. I didn't use any kind of tone with you. I couldn't do anything about this until I got paid today, anyway. I asked BK again tonight to call ZB, and I specified that I want him to do it tonight."

You know what, fuck my family. They don't take me seriously. Everything I say must be wrong, because I'm the one who said it. They talk to me in this condescending tone of voice. When I have a problem, they oversimplify it, and ask in a half-exasperated, half-ridiculing tone, "Well, why didn't you just do this?" or "Didn't you think to try that?" They do not see me as an adult, they don't even see me as a person. I'm like the klutzy, flighty, absent-minded character on a sitcom to them. Always screwing up, saying the wrong thing, making the wrong choices. Well I think I'm doing pretty goddamned well, actually, and I want some fucking credit.

You know my grandpa actually called me stupid the other day? Because I told him I planned to quit my job. He said in a warning tone, "You'd better make sure you have something lined up first." Well, duh. With the job market the way it is, and BK being so irresponsible with money (remember his "weed is a higher priority than rent" policy?), of course I'm going to find another job first. Fucking duh. So I said, "Well of course, I'm not stupid." He said, "Well when you say things like that, I start to wonder..." Yeah, my own grandfather called me stupid, for wanting to quit a job that literally makes me want to kill myself sometimes. For wanting to quit a job that is doing damage to my wrists, preventing me from crocheting, my passion. Yeah, that makes me stupid.

Fuck it. They're lucky ZGB needs support from her big cousin, or else I'd stop going to the weekend lunches with them. If ZGB wasn't in the picture, they would barely see me except on holidays. I'm tired of never being good enough for them. I'm done trying. It's time I put my energy into being good enough for myself, and I think I'm doing a damned good job lately.

7:41 p.m. - 2010-10-29

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