ranting again

October 10, 2010

My brain has shut down the parts that held the English language beyond a fourth grade level. I can’t find the words I need to express myself and I sound like a stupid little girl.

I used to be the editor of the college’s feminist newsletter and I trained to be a government documents library technician (long title for someone who knows the Library of Congress’s system), and I trained as a pharmacy technician. Lots of long names in the pharmacy business. My majors  in college were social anthropology and German. Lots of long, interesting words there, too. Be damned if I can remember any of them.

I can’t find a language or words. There is no access to them. It’s like a big door is blocking me to those words.

Last night I had a dream. there was a large field with many people milling about at the Mental Health Picnic. I went to a counter to order 2 pizza slices, 2 tuna fish subs, and 2 club subs. The lady didn’t see me, so I was politely waiting to order. Another girl pushes me out of the way and barks her order and the woman immediately responds. I lose it on the girl, scream in her face, and push her. Then everyone at the picnic goes silent and they are staring at me. I profusely apologize to the girl and say that there was no reason for my behavior. She gets her order and I get mine and everyone gets back to having a good time.

No consideration for me whether I’m polite, whether I am respectful, whether I’m nice, etc.. But as soon as I step out of that character I get in trouble, I’m at fault, I’m in trouble, it’s my fault. Now no one can have a good time. I ruin it for everyone. I am so fucking tired of this!

There is nothing for me. If I die life goes on. of course it does. If I leave life goes on. If I stay and play nice-nice things go more smoothly.

I’m not self-centered or a narcissist. I just feel like I sacrifice, play nice, and give up what I want and need, or it’s taken and I don’t do anything about it. Why should I? It would probably make my life more difficult anyway, and it’s already difficult finding reasons to simply get through the day.

I couldn’t finish my degree because at the third college I attended because someone found me in a corner of the government documents bleeding from a hundred slices I’d made, and she quickly put me in my car and told me to go home. I wish she had gotten me to a hospital. Maybe someone could have helped me. I couldn’t finish at the first college I went to because of mental health issues and they gave me back to my father. I couldn’t finish at the second college I attended because of mental health issues so I eloped and ran to Texas.

If I raise my voice or become angry here at home it really frightens my kids, so I try to reason with them. I don’t hit and I’m lucky because I rarely need to take something away from them if they misbehave. They really are good kids. Not angels, but good.

I wish I could show you how I’m crying and pounding the desk while I’m typing. Even if I went to my therapist feeling this way I know I would not thrash around this way. I would be very polite and quiet and try to keep my voice even.

How do I write the way I really feel? I don’t communicate well.

My FIL is coming over in half-an-hour. I would like to tell him to fuck off because he is so annoying. Hopefully he won’t stay long.

Okay. Enough ranting.

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