Tangled in Hate

I don’t know what to write, but I feel that I should because it’s been so long.

I can feel myself beginning to recede into myself again, hence the lack of writing. My moods have been shifting at a faster rate which is beginning to worry me. I am retaining my self confidence but I’ve started wake up at least 3 times a night and my thoughts jump from one subject to the next. Sometimes I feel like I’m just a spectator in my own head, that my thoughts and I are separate. I just watch them float by. I also did something a bit masochistic on Friday as well. I walked home from Sacramento and Fillmore. For those of you that know where I live you know that’s kind of a long walk. About halfway through I felt my tennis shoes start to rub my feet and blisters develop. Instead of getting on the bus, I just kept walking and now my feet are pretty much destroyed.

Perhaps this is just a melancholy mood that will pass but I admit I’m scared. It’s been awhile since I’ve been this down. It’s so fucking frustrating to not have a reason to feel like this. To just wake up and have my brain be like “Yo, I hate you.” I hate it. I HATE IT. I just want to BE. Fuck. Now my eyes are watering.

UGHHHH.

I really hope I don’t end up in a ball tonight begging my brain to stop. I wish that I could just have melancholy moods without it going some where deeper. I filed all my nails off so I can’t scratch myself, even though I want to.

I’m not eating much anymore. I’m pretty sure it’s the meds but it could be my mood too. I started taking the A.D.D meds and so far it hasn’t worked. The first day I took them I was a little hyper but now I feel nothing. My dreams have been extremely morbid as of late. They all have death in them. Either someone I know dies or I do. It sucks to go from being so happy to this.

I think it may have something to do with my mother. It seems whenever we are in contact I go from stable to “what the fuck is stability”. I just carry around so much anger and hurt. I want to be able to just let go of it. When I try I just become numb. I want to be able to forgive her. I do. I just….I know this will sound cold, but love is not a word I can attribute to her anymore. I will always respect her in a way because she gave me life. I know that she tried, at least… I think she did. Her actions were just so extreme. Either she’d be a super mom or she’d be the worst enemy I’ve ever had. I think part of the reason I’m angry is because I finally figured out what love is. It’s a balance. When you love someone, you will sacrifice your happiness to see them happy. BUT if it’s love, the other person would do that as well so you would find a balance. With my parents I feel like it’s my dad doing all the work. His back is in horrific condition but he still works. He has to because SHE refuses to get a job. She’ll say that she’s applied to places but I know she hasn’t. She has claimed that she had been working her whole life and deserved a break. That is so fucking selfish. What about EVERYONE ELSE? I would love a break. I’ve been working since I was 13. I started off as a dishwasher and haven’t been unemployed since. Wait, I take that back. I was unemployed when I moved here. What about my dad? What about my sister? What about the rest of the fucking world? I just can’t comprehend her complete lack of awareness to the people around her. It’s always about her, how she was hurt, how she worked hard, how she did this, did that. She expects so much from the people around her but she doesn’t give. Well… to her giving means buying someone a present. I don’t think she understands how to give mentally. I’ll never forget the day that she had officially moved back in after she left my father and me. I came home and she was downstairs with my dad. She was all smiles and urged me to go upstairs. I walked into my bedroom and found misc presents on my bed. I remember staring at them in shock and having her come up behind me and asked if I liked everything.

Really? After all the shit she pulled she thought a necklace and some clothes would make everything suddenly better? When you refuse a gift from her she instantly gets hurt. She loved giving gifts and I think, to her, that’s giving. There has to be a physical gift because she doesn’t know how to just give.

Ah yes, this brings me back to a week before my surgery. She found out THROUGH FUCKING FACEBOOK that I was having surgery. She called me and asked if I wanted “Mama” there. I said no, I didn’t. There was silence at the end of the line.

“But why? I’m your mama.”

I was floored. Really? REALLY? After almost a year of not talking and her random spiteful fucking emails, she wanted to be my “mama”.

I snapped. I started screaming. I let go of everything I was holding in. I yelled at her for not acknowledging that I was bipolar. I yelled at her for laughing in my face when I told her I was depressed when I was 14. She said that it was normal. It wasn’t. Normal is teenage angst. Normal isn’t slicing your skin to feel. Normal isn’t hiding in your closet rocking back and forth begging your brain to stop hating you. Normal isn’t hiding in the bathroom during lunch because you’re having a panic attack. Normal isn’t hating yourself so much that you wear baggy pants and a black sweatshirt in 100 degree weather because you can’t stand to see your own body. Normal isn’t feeling so ashamed to cry that you just stop crying all together. Normal isn’t wanting to die because you can’t take the hate anymore. The hate that fills every pore, the hate that makes you want to scratch your skin off, the hate that constantly tells you that are nothing, that you will never be anything. Angst is supposed to dissipate after puberty; all this was happening up until last year. I screamed at her for not even TRYING to support me. Then she had the AUDACITY to ask me if I had taken my meds that day because I was “acting unstable”.

I hung up on her and started sobbing. The kind of sobbing where you feel like you’re going to throw up and you can’t breathe. She made me doubt if I was mentally ill AGAIN. I called my friend Julia to ask her if I was crazy, she assured me that I was and that I wasn’t making all this up. Then we started laughing because I need to be reassured that I am, in fact, crazy. When I left my room, my roommate Ariel immediately embraced me. Apparently I really was screaming.

I felt relieved after but not healed. I will never feel healed because she will never, ever be able to comprehend anything she has done. She just isn’t in reality. I have to accept that, I have to let go. But I can’t. I can’t let go of the anger I feel towards her because she’s not even trying. I can’t let go of the fact that she has made up a completely different life then the one she actually lived. I can’t let go of the fact that she can still get to me, that she can still make me doubt myself. Dealing with this shit is already hard enough. Taking medication is so unbelievably hard for me to do. I don’t want to but I know that if I don’t I will go back to being even lower. I will go back to not being able to control my actions. I can’t do that. Maybe one day I’ll be able to stabilize myself and stop the meds. That’s what I’m striving for. But for now, I need outside help. I need to be ok with the fact that I asked for help. I need support from the person that is supposed to love me. I know my dad supports me. I know that he knows everything he did to hurt me and actually feels sorry for it and he has apologized. That’s why I carry no anger from him.

I need to stop typing because I’m clenching my jaw and am near tears.

I just want to let go and just be. God I wish I could just let go.