In August, I made a big promise: to quit being so sensitive and honest, my family doesn't appreciate it, and I hate myself when I let things bug me that wouldn't bug anyone else.
I'm going to give up the damn stuffed skunk. 27 years is enough time with a stuffed animal, and it's falling apart.
I'm going to be more aggressive, less nice, I think...it just gets me hurt. I'm going to pull my head out of my ass and quit yelling at me for letting assholes into my life. I made choices, it's not like I was entirely innocent and went without warning. I'm irritated with me... while I did not succumb to an urge to pull out my own hair or go at myself, I did eat something that I knew I shouldn't. I realized I haven't been as careful with my facts and figures as I thought, having taught myself math to pass a GED and get rid of the useless IEP diploma. I chose to wallow in my pain rather than honestly say "I'm not comfortable with YOU and your plans for me." I chose to bitch out of anger and pain. I wallowed this week. I'm such a fucking shit!