I blog gluten-free

Tuesday, January 22, 2013


I'm fucking TRYING to pull myself out. It's not goddamn easy, when you have good news, are excited about things, and get a list of all the horrible things you are, all the things that are horrid about what you're happy about, and a list of complaints, because goddamn it, you're the only one who will fucking take it and lay down like a rug rather than fighting back. That when things are done on my own, they're not goddamned up to specifications. But I was happy! I'm brightening up! And now I get swamped with another fucking wave of guilt?! And Mom... let me tell you- this is why I don't ask for help. And I'll never, ever do it again. I'll pull myself out. Thanks so much for seeing a happy mood and layering guilt on top of it, seemingly expecting me to control everyone's behavior, and once again blaming me, when, fuck it... I had the fright of my life, and neither you, nor the doctor, nor the goddamn "health worker" called in to "help" me with the next round, as we wait for solutions, listened to me, preferring to talk over me, fill me up with fucking mango tea and shushing me when I tried to have a say in my own goddamn care, and wondering why I need to vent somewhere! I have nothing! You gave me no out! And while I feel horrid over your thyroid, you use it, and my illness to beat me over the head... I am supposed to be quiet... I wasn't supposed to talk about it, and everything would have been fine. Just like someone I don't know touching me is not supposed to frighten me- well, it DOES! I'm still holding back, because I'm still frightened over where to go. There's stuff I still don't say until I'm ready... oh, but there's things you insist on discussing, when I'm happy, when I'm eating and content... why can't I say things once and get them done! Why won't you people listen?! Oh, I wasn't supposed to react in fear. I saw a strange person come towards me. My privacy had been breached. They had their hands raised, and personal experience said "Oh, damn..." I expected a HIT! No, I can't hug first. And someone with an MS degree should know better than to do this without warning first! I had to deal alone! Because you blamed me! Because you still do! And anytime anything goes wrong, if the butcher gives you your steak a 1/4 pound too light, you're going to attack me! While I can politely request for things...a new neurologist as I am uncomfortable, all to be talked over, all to be treated like I have no value. You know what? Go ahead. Do it. It hurts less than the threat.I'm tired of dealing. I'm tired of not being understandable. I'm fucking tired of playing good girl, while someone else can talk shit, fuck off to God knows where, go missing and is treated like fucking gold if he so much burps in your general direction, and his opinion on Macedonian potties of the 12th century is worth is goddamn weight in horse shit. Yes. You, like everyone else I am feeling guilt over- I fucking love you. Your health is important to me. Goddamn if it doesn't distress me. But I'm not going to fault you for a mistake, a bad day! I'm going to call it a bad day! I'm appreciative, but I'd like to be happy... I'd like to be able to mention something joyful and not get a whole mouthful of horrible, nasty accusations and blames and whatever else back. I'd like to go after one opportunity. I'd like certain freedoms you refuse me. I'd like to FUCKING STAY HAPPY. I was joyful. I was optimistic. I walked away thinking, "Yet again, no one heard me."

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