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Been back one day and the negative spiral starts again. At the smallest and slightest chance, he's into me. I feel like he's putting me down, waiting for me to fuck up. I hate living here. I hate this house, I hate the way it makes me feel. And I hate the way he can't see his own selfishness. Been back one day and i'm crying my eyes out again feeling like noone on the fucking face of the planet gives a shit or can understand. When we were away, everything was all smiley and rosey. But now we're back and straight away all he's doing is focusing on the things I'm getting wrong. Its like he can't wait for me to fail. He pushes and pushes me. He doesn't attempt to understand what it must be like for me to face yet another mental health team in a different fucking city based on my post code. Based on the post code that he chose and I have to assimilate with. I don't like medowie. I don't like being dictated to either. Just do this, just do that. Don't do this! You're not allowed to do that. I can be humble. I can eat all the fucking humble pie you want, but not unless your voice is soft and your looks are kind. I'm just too tired of that hard look in your eyes and if you don't get rid of it, we've got big fucking problems. I want the us that we had when we were away back. I want the couple that went for walks together. Not the arsehole that yells at me for checking emails. I can't live with someone who's always looking for me to fail. Who takes that negative tone with me when he feels like it. Perhaps we both need a little space from each other, so I'm going to organise to go away for a little bit. To get out of your hair and away from all the pressure. You're choking me. |
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Mood: sad something in the real to share: I wish I were back on the south coast far away from all this. |
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And the jury has returned with their verdict: yesterday sucked. I'm so disappointed with myself. Its because there's a deep dark cruel part of me which has been unwillingly dredged up lately and I hate seeing it get used. I'm tired of trying to bury hatchets in other people's heads so I'm going to put them deep deep deep in the ground for now. There are people that I know that bring out the worst in me. These people know who they are and they know that I'm angry with them. Anger is such a frustrating emotion for me. I've never been able to veil contempt. Perhaps I've enjoyed letting it out too much. I've become a poisonous viper, and now I'm threatening to bite my own tail. My head is a mess, and words have been exchanged that can't be taken back. They ring in my ears and bring tears to the back of my eyes, but I refuse to believe that I'm what you, what you both insist I am... There's a deep discontent in me. A deep irreconcilable void between the people that I love dearly and those that I can't love, who stand with those I'm ambivalent to. I'm so full of rage. I'm so full of rage. I'm not making sense. Medowie is the same as it was before, but the talk we had about not being so aggressive when talking to me seems to have stuck and despite yesterday's isolation, things have been resolved. How can one person make me feel like I'm even getting better when the other one makes me feel like a monster? Maybe I am a monster, and if I am what does it matter? Slowly the blocks fall into place then spin away again because you're re writing history and I'm not allowed to take my red pen to your sanctimonious new tale. Slowly the blocks are whizzing closer and closer to my face as you redefine the chase and tell me how I felt and made you feel and how your version is the real deal, but mine, mine is a forgery. Slowly the blocks are making contact and they sting and they burn with cold fire and they hurt deep inside where only memories should live. Slowly the information falls into place that you and I have been hurling the blocks... |
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I'm still repulsed by myself. I've managed to gain a stone in weight since i stopped the meds, and overall two and a half stone since I quit smoking. I told my partner yesterday that I feel like I'm wearing a fat suit. The worst part about it is that by floundering like this, stagnating, dying a day at a time... indecisive and unhappy, they've won. Every fucker I've ever been paranoid about has won. Every fucker who's hurt me, including myself, seems to be winning the battle to destroy myself. I hate my university degree. I hate my life. I despise myself. And I know saying that I hate my life really calls into attention problems I must be having with my interpersonal relationships, but maybe there is a problem there. Maybe I need to just go stay with friends for a couple of days. I'm feeling low, feeling shit... feeling drained and unhappy. Lying when I can muster the energy. All the time in the back of my head is "whats the friggen point". My partner is sick of bashing his head against a brick wall with me and so he's given up trying to fight with me for uni and he's backing right off. I've missed a class this morning. I should have stayed at home. I got here with an hour of the two hour tutorial left and couldn't suck it up enough to show my face in the room. I'm paranoid. its crippling. And you know what the worst thing about all of this is? The worst thing is that this is what people deal with every day. Every fucking day the 'normal' people get themselves to class on time, deal with the people around them, get education, get jobs, manage their weight. I can't seem to give enough of a shit about any of these things to get myself organised. I know that freedom lies just around the corner for me. All I have to do is finish the semester... but I'm so tired of waiting. I'm so unhappy with everything that I need some breath of fresh air now... but life isn't like that. I want to get a decent therapist. Someone to talk to once a week. But I've been so fucking screwed over by the MH services that therapy has become a complicated issye about time and travelling and of course, money. I need to see someone. I need structure, help, coffee... I wish just once someone would make me a coffee that was 'just right' and not too fucking hot to drink. I don't want to scald myself. Maybe I should stipulate that next time. Less whinging. More working. |
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What is it that opposite sex relationships crave from each other, and can they ever hope to satisfy the craving? Why are women conditioned to expect knights in shining armour who at a closer glance prove to be nothing more than tin can foot soldiers? Why do most men believe they're Arthur or Merlin, and turn out to be Lancelot instead? Why can't they admit that they don't really go for Excalibur, and all the chivalrous things they claim to stand for. Why did Achilles have to fall in love? And why did men give a shit about Helen of troy. Why do women have affairs? If one man cannot satisfy them, what makes them think any other can? A man said to me that his wife married the perfect man, because all men are perfect, does that mean that none is better than the other? I am torn between men. One man haunts my dreams because he thinks he's Arthur and is actually Lancelot and won't admit it and therefore give me the peace i so desperately crave. the other man is grooming me to be a perfect reproductive unit so that we can play house. There is admittedly part of me that enjoys this... but a darker looming threat that cannot accept my place as receptacle and gestational vessel. There is a man who once appeared to be the knight, but on closer inspection, he seemed so black... but maybe that is all to do with perception, and I may have been the dragon not the princess to him. When/if i learn to feel perhaps I will be sorry... perhaps I already am... another man, a man I don't even dare to think about or speak about has become the material of fantasy... one last hope that if I don't get too close, that if I look at him out of the corner of my eye I can believe in knights in shining armour all over again. One last effort to believe in the fairy tale... to allow myself to hope. I hope I never get to close to such and one... I hope I never find anyone who looks like the perfect partner again. Relationships are hard fucking work... its all about compromise and settling... the very things that draw you to a person will ultimately be the things that push you away... |
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Houston... we have a label... (And I'm not telling...) So they argue against labelling patients because it gives them an umbrella to hide under... and to a certain extent that is true... but for me apart from being an umbrella, they've given it a face. Something to fight against. Relatively reasonable ideas about how long it should take to get things done and some seriously reliable research about what works, and its all there available for my inspection and approval. The beast has a name. I know what I'm fighting. So there's hope right now. There are therapists, appointments, knowing looks and waiting rooms. There are group meetings and individual sessions. There is this online journal and another one hidden in the bottom draw of my bedside table. There's understanding and there's a future. And there's acceptance, and there's an eagerness to shake it off. There's tiredness. And there's hopelessness and deathly dreaming in their turn. There's no forgiveness. And there can't be. I've given up hope there. Fuck you. Fuck you hard. You are now the noisiest unhappiest place in my mind. You are now the black. You are now the fucking hatred. You asked for it in no less specific terms. There is corn and snow peas and strawberries, and a little grey cat, and a big brown and white one, a bird that rules the roost and a long suffering, but not leaving one... How did I come to be here. there is positivity here. There is happiness in potentia... now all I have to do is be happy... there's no place like home there's no place like home... I dreamt a dream thisafternoon. I was in the crushing hold of sleep Who wrapped his hand around my consciousness and squeezed some madness from my imagination. He tricked me into believing that I was awake Only to tell me later with a snigger that I was still asleep And still asleep And still asleep And his captive for as long as he wanted. Until the phone rang. Is that how a coma feels? Is that how it death feels? Do you see yourself getting things done only to realise that they're gone again in an instant meaningless and nothingness? Just thoughts. |
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Mood: emotionless something in the real to share: I have not been this tired in a long time |