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A ranting

I’ve been the only one helping her since she “broke” her foot.

Even though I’m home, I need to work.  I’m not her live in maid, grocery shopper, dinner partner, sounding board or secretary.  Every time I come up the stairs, or go into her vicinity, she tells me to do something or vents about whatever the hell is bothering her.  Mostly work, but if not that, it’s the neighbors or anything else that she thinks is intentionally slighting her.  Not to mention the constant arguing with the TV. We have different politics, and of course, I’m the wrong one.  And then she gets upset she can’t have a conversation with me about it.  Well no shit, of course I’m going to shut down when I disagree with you.

I want out.  I need out. I actually prefer talking to her on the phone.  I have her most of her attention and I can actually talk.  She still vents like crazy but at least I know there’s an end point.

And I’m responsible for feeding her for some reason.  I’m not her fucking mother or husband, but I can’t do anything spontaneous, or stay out with her telling me I’m being rude or disrespectful or whatever. And I need to go grocery shopping every few days because she only eats things that last a few days.  I dont’ have time for this.  She needs to grow up and be the functioning adult she was when I was growing up.  I don’t even know how we got to this point.

I am not important

Still here, but been mostly too tired or stressed out to write anything.  Between work, my coursera course, cosplay and trying to prep for grad school applications, I haven’t felt like I’ve had time to focus enough to write.  I’ve been yelling at myself everyday to start exercising again, but when I wake up, I just don’t want to move.  I lifted weights for 10 minutes today, and felt slightly better.  Someday I’ll convince myself to workout before work.

Well, that’s the positive things lately.  My depression and feelings of worthlessness are kicking up again.  I need to find a way to stop valuing myself based on others.  I’ve realized that I’m not the most important person in anybody’s life.  I know I should just worry about myself, and taking care of my life, but I want to feel valued.

I feel so childish and narcissistic for thinking this way, but my “closest” friend J, just lost a family member.  I thought I would be the one outside her family to help her, as she reached out to me the first day.  Turns out another friend helped her more.  I have no idea why or how.  I just saw the shoutout on facebook.  I took her out that night, along with her brother and the friend, but somehow after that my sympathy didn’t mean much.  I feel like such an asshole for thinking about this.  J is the one suffering, and I’m sitting her wondering why she doesn’t want my help.

Another example.  The Boy (yeah, I know, what else is new?)  I still have no idea what our relationship is.  There’s what I consider somewhat intimate physical contact, but probably not enough for normal adults to consider significant.  We had tentative plans to watch a movie mid week, but he took the day off to spend time with someone from out of town.  But didn’t tell me until I tried to confirm the night before.  I don’t know if this is just his personality, but he does not like to talk about his life with me.  Anything.  I know one of his friends names and he doesn’t mention anything that the does outside of work.  I don’t understand why he bothers with me.  I get so insecure around him now that I’m probably self sabotaging.  I try to ask questions without being stalkerish, but I can’t get much info.  I shouldn’t have to pull teeth this hard

I deserve to be with someone, right?  Who loves me and wants to share their life with me?  Is that allowed for someone like me?

Either I just don’t know how to connect with people or I haven’t met the right subset of people yet.  I just want to be myself and relaxed when I’m with someone.  Not stressed and constantly worrying is I’m going to upset them

Excuses.

What I sacrificed…

<begin emotionally charged rant>

My life may seem perfect to the outsider. I should be envied, looked up to, and respected. But what I have isn’t what I wanted. I fell into this. I came here out of necessity. Outside forces pushed my to make the decisions I did, to avoid the fights for what I wanted.

Let’s start with college. I picked the most practical major I could tolerlate. It was no coinicence that is was the same as yours. My own fault, I sought your approval of my life. Compuer science was not what I wanted, but I pick the career path that I wouldn’t need 8+ years of schooling for. I wanted to be astronomer since I was 7, but I would be useless in the real world until I got a phd. And even then career prospects are slim. I gave up on my dream to be practical. I finished college so fast I don’t remember it. 3 years, 2 degrees. I took too many classes and I suffered, my grades suffered, all in order to get out “early”. So I could save you money. I lived at home. To save you money. I did everything you wanted, even if you didn’t expicitely ask for it.

I tried to move out when I graduated.  I could afford it.  I had a good job, I would still be close by.  But no.  This guilt trips started.  “How can I keep up this house by myself?  You expect me to live in this big house by myself?”  You kept saying. So what am I supposed to do?  Live with you forever?  Seems like it. You can’t afford this house without me now, yet you refuse to sell it.  You keep saying you want to move to another state, but you never do.  And you won’t go without me anyway.  So I’m stuck here.  Forever.

Yes, my live is good.  It’s a good house in a safe area.  I can afford the things I want, but MY life is on hold.  As long as I’m here, as long as half my paycheck goes to this family, I can never have my own family.  I’m 26.  That gives me 4 years left before I  having genetically deficient kids.  Dating is next to impossible.  You never leave the house.  I can never be alone.  Dinner  together is an issue EVERY SINGLE NIGHT.  I have to plan what I’m going days in advanced, and if I don’t tell you those plans as soon as I know them, you flip out.

Now I can afford to by my own house.  That last card in your hand.  But no, I can’t do that, since I’m supposed to be being a house to rent out to other people.  Thanks for asking what I want to do with MY money.  I don’t want to be a landlord.  yes, I get that real estate is good, and that you’ve done this before, but I remebered how stressed you were.  I don’t want tenants calling me at 3 am because their toliet broke.  I WANT MY OWN LIFE.

I can’t win this battle.  You won’t accept any reasons I have for living my own life, with my choices.  Every time I do something that I want and you disapprove of, you scream at me, but you refuse to accept that you’re screaming at me.  You don’t even know your own behavior.

90% of the time I’m ok with this situation.  But the rest of the time is heartbreaking for me.  I’m a rat trapped by your logic.

Second Tier Friend

I’ve touched on this topic before, but it’s been right in my face so I need to talk about it again.   I have two people I can call my friends, which may not even be friends by some people’s definitions; The Boy and J.  I’ve known J since middle school but our relationship kind of fades in and out.  Lately we’ve been getting long well, we actually hung out a couple times in two weeks, which is impressive since we only see each other a couple times a year.  Which is dumb since she lives in the next town.

So we spend an afternoon/night getting dinner, playing games and cruising the mall and everything seem great.  We find a game she absolutely wants to try but can’t afford.  a few days later I end up getting it and she’s super excited to play.  I invite her to my house (which I never do.  She doesn’t drive so I always go to hers, plus that’s where the other people are).  turns out she isn’t good at the game and I think I made her uncomfortable since we ended up having dinner with my family.  That’s one of the reasons I don’t invite people over.  It’s an inconvenience to my mother and I end up upsetting the general order of things.

So I think everything is ok at the end of the night, but I haven’t heard from her since.  I posted a link to her facebook wall I thought she’d like, but she completely ignored it.  We always “like” each other’s links.  since we don’t see each other often, this is how we maintain a friendship.  I know I’m over analyzing this, but I don’t want to lose the few “friends” I have.  It’s like she only wanted to hang out with me when we do what she finds interesting.  And I will cave to whatever she wants to do, but I won’t be able to contribute much.  We have very different personalities and few things in common.  Probably not enough to maintain the friendship, but we get along ok.

Plus we made theoretical plans to take a vacation together when she graduates but I doubt that will happen.  I’ve been dying to go to HP world and she already went but would go again.  I know I’m being selfish in wanting to go but I don’t have anyone else.  I’d go alone but that’s not as much fun and kind of sad 😦

So now that I’m of no longer any use to J, I may not hear from her for a while.  And now I’ve found out (via facebook posts) she has a new comic book nerd friend and they are exchanging messages like crazy. This is going to be painful to watch unfold.

And I lent her some DVDs the last time we hung out.  I wonder if I’ll get those back.

</rant>

How can I (with audio)

 I will be the first to tell you that I should not quit my day job to become a musician.  With that in mind, there is some level of peace and catharsis I achieve when I play.

With that in mind, this is the song I wrote about my cousin after he died.  It’s my first and last “complete” song.  I have bits and pieces of other songs written down, but nothing coherent.  For obvious reasons, I don’t sing in front of anyone, but I feel safe sharing it here.

 

I watched you fall around me
Get up and fall again
Blinded by winds of sand
Now I can see your end

How can I face tomorrow
How can I live today
How can I stand beside you
How can I say goodbye

I watched you fall around me
Get up and fall again
This high will bring you down
Now you have reached the end

How can I face tomorrow
How can I live today
How can I stand beside you
How can I say goodbye

How can I…
How can I…

Sexual Validation – Part 1

My apologies to anyone who may find this offensive, but this post will be very personal and probably very graphic.  If you don’t want to read about sex, then move on.  Although given society I seriously doubt many will pass.  Sex is the last primitive urge that can drive someone to drastic measures.  Everyone is fascinated by sex.  From nuns to homemakers to the paperboy.  Even if they don’t admit it.  I’m fascinated by it, even though I’m terrified of it.

I’ve been avoiding this topic for most of my life, but I believe it’s at the root of my problems/social anxieties.  I think some background is in order.  I’m a virgin.  In the strictly physical sense.  As in I’ve never experienced penetration.  However, if penetration is not your definition of sex, then I lost my sexual innocence when I was 9.

Sad, I know.  Unfortunately, my experience is a far too common experience for young girls.

I was molested repeatedly for when I was 9-10 years old.  By my foster brother’s 16 year old best friend.  It started on a small scale.  The first time I remember him touching me was on the ride back from a ski trip, I was sleeping in the back of the van and I felt someone draw small circles along my side.  Then a hand reached up, quickly under my shirt to feel my training bra and quickly pulled away.  I didn’t react.  I’m not really sure why.  I must have thought I was dreaming and I didn’t want to make a scene.  So I fell back asleep.

The next time I remember him touching me was in a much more disturbing manner.  Since this friend lived a few towns over and couldn’t yet drive, he would stay overnight sometimes.  This is when the most damage occurred.  I woke up to him over me in the middle of the night, the covers gone.  He had pulled my shirt up and was sucking on my breasts (I was well developed for a 9 year old, I’m sure he must have thought I was 13 or 14).  He could fit the whole thing in his mouth.  I would just lay there, pretending to sleep and hope he would go away.  I was so confused the first time it happened.  Again I must have thought I was dreaming.  I know I should have yelled or pushed him off or REACTED in some way but I was frozen.  People always talk about the “fight or flight” response, but there’s another one: freeze.

Even though I didn’t reacted when it happened, I should have told my mother the next morning.  I was too scared to though.  I was afraid she wouldn’t believe me, and even if she did, I was afraid of the consequences.  My mother was already in the middle of a court battle with my father and I didn’t want to add any more stress to her.  I didn’t want people to know that I had been touched like that.  I felt like I was tainted, that whenever someone saw me that’s what they would think about me.  It’s not like he ever threatened me if I told.  He never said a word to me.

So I never told anyone about the first incident.  I should have, because he would visit me repeatedly in my bed, in the middle of the night.  I’m don’t know how it went on for so long without anyone finding out.  My mother slept in the next room for god’s sake.  hell, he even found a way to touch me when I slept in my mom’s bed.  The molestation got progressively worse from the first night.  He would still start by sucking my breasts (at least that’s when I woke up).  He then began removing my underwear and sucking down there too. He would shove his tongue down my throat and I would try to shrivel my tongue back as much as possible so it wouldn’t touch his.  I soon learned that those kinds of touches were not what he really wanted.  That he was just doing that so he could guilt me into getting what he wanted.  He put his dick up to my mouth and told me to “kiss it”. I tried turning my head but he just followed my mouth.  One I night I finally did “kiss it” but he was highly disappointed I didn’t take the whole thing in my mouth (what did he expect, I was 9).  He got tired of trying to shove his dick in my mouth and tried to go a different route.  He pushed it against my very small, very virgin vagina.  The first and only time I ever spoke to him was to say “it hurts”.  He responded with “no it doesn’t”.  That was the only time I felt truly scared and that he would hurt me if I fought him.  He never got in, but I will never forget him trying.

Now I was even more terrified to tell anyone, since I didn’t say anything after the first time, I felt like it was my fault that it kept going on.  That I had no right to claim rape since I didn’t the first time. And that I enjoyed it.

On a very physical level I did enjoy it.  I mean, the sensations he was giving me felt good and he never hurt me (except the one time mentioned above).  A more psychological aspect to this has alot to do with daddy issues.  My parents separated when I was 6 and my father never showed any love or affection towards me.  On some level I was actually happy to have the attention of a “man”.  I enjoyed this and the physical sensations so much that not only did I not fight him, but would willingly go along with the molestation.  I would choose to sit next to him in the back seat of the car so he could rub his hand over my pants when no one was looking.  I would rub my hands on his back when he was over me in bed.  I wanted a man’s approval.  I wanted him to feel good too, so he would keep touching me, keep paying attention to me.  I knew it was wrong of me to want that, and deep down that’s probably the reason I never told anyone at the time.  I didn’t want him telling them that I was “willing”.

My brother moved out a year later and so his friend had no reason to be at the house and the molestation stopped.  I’m not sure why he took a liking to me anyway.  I never told my mother.  She still has no idea and it would crush her if she found out this happened in her house.  The damage has been done and there’s no reason to hurt her as well.  I’ve only ever told one person in my life (my first and last boyfriend).  Until now, where I’m telling the entire internet.

So begins my adolescence and a hateful and fearful attitude towards sex.   In the next post…