col·lec·tive

Journal, no trust, Personal

Some things have been encouraging my insecurity recently.

I normally bring some food into my communications class because it’s after a break of mine, so I always get food. This girl turns to me and says, “you’re always munching on something” and like… Okay?? Your point? I’m sorry?????

My boyfriend doesn’t always respond back to me very fast and I wonder if he’s ignoring me. If I’m too needy. So then I’m like, do I ignore him? Do I leave him on read so it evens shit out? But I want to respond fast and shit cause I know that makes me feel good when others do it for me and I’m not out here to hurt him- I just don’t want to be made out to be a needy girlfriend. You know?

At work, sometimes I’ll say something and no one will respond. Or they will and their voice trails off like they don’t care???

I am trying so goddamn hard to work on myself, why do others have to come at me like this? I just want to live a positive life and put positivity out there and not be down all the time.

This recent trend in my life is bringing me down though, I’ve been depressed for a while and I don’t know if it’s the weather or the daily grind I’ve got going on, but I’m over it.

I want some sunshine and ice coffee and smiling. I want Travis to respond faster. I want to have close friends up here.

The insecurity I feel makes me wonder if I’m just different from everybody else. If no one will ever like me because I unknowingly eat loudly in class or respond too fast to messages, what if I’m.. annoying.. That thought is what makes me isolate myself and not try to make friends. I’m worried that people universally don’t like me as a person.

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des·per·a·tion

Jealousy, Journal, Love, no trust, Partner, Personal

Taking a short trip through my camera roll, I recognized a pattern in my association with the photos. I took that one when I liked so-and-so. I took this one when I was dating that guy. I was rejected by this person on this day. And suddenly I remembered why I took a social media hiatus. It fueled a dysfunctional part of myself, it fueled my insecurity of how others perceive me.

I felt it again just looking at the pictures I used to post.

I was desperate. I needed validation. I needed acceptance.

It still makes me really uncomfortable thinking about if I fell back into that pattern. Relying on a guy, being left, and suddenly in a crisis.

That wasn’t me for a year. A whole year. And knowing that it’s possible for Travis and I to break up at any point (hello, I have had unforeseen breakups before), I worry what kind of spiral I could go into, if any.

I always respond to him fast, and I do it because I care about him. I do it because I find him exciting. Because talking to him brings me joy. But it also gives me that sense of acceptance I crave when he talks to me, and perhaps I am just like a guinea pig triggering it’s happy spots in its brain until it dies.

I’m afraid that my affection will drive him away because I have associated myself being attached to someone as the cause for them leaving me.

I’m over here feeling all of these things and I’m scared to form a real connection with Travis because I’m scared that in doing so, he will realize that I was too easy or something. He’ll think I’m not good enough for him. Subpar. Lower class. How many ways can I say inferior?

I thought that I had made so much progress in myself since my big mental breakdown of 2016-

but I still worry that Travis will cheat on me. I still worry that he is only complimenting me because he wants sex. I have this crippling fear inside of me that I am a social outcast because there is something seriously wrong with me.

I try to act like I have accepted it, but it’s rooted inside my heart. It’s an ugly disease in my blood.

I’m so fucking insecure.

ne·glect

Blame, Domestic Violence, Failure, Family, forgotten, Journal, Memories, no trust, Partner, Perfect, Personal, Relationships

Recently I have been feeling depressed. Most notably when I mess up at work or think about how my relationship with Travis will likely end.

As much as I like him, I can’t shake this feeling that he’ll cheat or something that will hurt me and then I’ll be put in this position that makes me feel like a hopeless girlfriend like I’ve felt before. I’ve tried really hard to be the perfect girlfriend for him, harder than I have ever tried before. I would say that this is the most effort I have put into a relationship – because I want it to work.

There have been times when I have felt very close to him and others when we were laying right next to each other and I may as well have been alone. But I’ve felt like that with everyone, which makes me wonder if that aching sense of abandonment is more about my parents and childhood traumas than my current relationship.

Which brings me to my main point here, I am damaged. I cannot explain the sense of loss that I feel when I cannot make a cappuccino properly, I just know that it happens. It’s illogical, but I have cried because I felt this ache after someone tells me that their drink isn’t light enough. I just can’t do anything right. 

I didn’t have these fears about Travis before we went to that party together – but I very consciously stopped trusting him completely when that girl walked by and he later told me he had a superficial thing for her. As well as when he drunkenly stared at that girl’s cleavage.

I recognize I am a recent addition to his life, that being in a relationship after being single is a lifestyle change, and I will admit that I have recently checked other guys out- but to do it so blatantly in front of me? It hurt.

After my mom left us I changed. She was only a part of my life on the surface. That slight connection we did have, messaging me and seeing each other once every few months, it made the abandonment I felt hard to distinguish. It wasn’t as if my mom just disappeared one day and I never heard from her again.

Nonetheless, I was abandoned. Physically she was not there, emotionally she was not there, financially she was not there.

I told myself that I was the only one I could ever rely on, and I have ingrained that into who I am today. Self-sufficient, self-made, independent and in no need of help. I was living that lifestyle at fifteen when she left me. That mindset made me push people who cared about me away. I was terrified I would get used to having them as a support system in my life and have to relive the pain of losing my mom.

Aside from Riley, I don’t let people in. I don’t really allow for anyone to become a part of my life that I am emotionally dependent on.

It’s a toxic trait of mine.

So now that I have the opportunity to really let another person in, to let myself have an attachment to Travis, I hesitate. He has the potential to really hurt me.

He told me that he feels something real between us, and I do too- when I’m not emotionally distancing myself from everything I care about.

Since my parents’ separation, I have had a compulsive desire to please authority figures in my life. Teachers, managers, literally anyone in power over me. I sought out the affirmation that I was doing good from my parents during a critical period of my development, and they gave me nothing. Now I seek it anywhere I can find. Working long hours, being as reliable as I humanly can push myself to be- and any failure feels like a monumental collapse.

I feel a responsibility, too. One to prove that my family line isn’t all flimsy and mentally unsound- it’s why I am in college. I want, no I feel the need, to show that I can achieve greatness. I want to have a real career. I want to have success. But how far will this drive take me before I crash and burn?

I feel the need to be perfect in every aspect of my life. I know I can never meet those expectations.

At the end of everything, I just want closure from the abandonment. I want the affirmation my parents cannot give me.

dis·so·nance (4-1-2018)

Awareness, fathers, fuck you, Future, home, Jealousy, Journal, Love, Memories, no trust, Partner, Personal, Relationships

Have you ever done something and not really understood why you did it? As your hand approaches your mouth with the pills weighing in your palm, and that voice inside your head is saying don’t, yet they make it into your mouth and you swallow anyway.

When you’re standing outside at four a.m. and heavily intoxicated because you have succumbed to your desire to fit in and an Uber costs $30, so you walk across town to get home while your sister is busy fucking the guy where you had been sleeping not even thirty minutes before. Before you walk home, you kick his car. A lot. and dig out your keys, leaving grooves because you’re angry that no one loves you.

The guy you have loved for the last seven months would rather lead you on and never commit because he wants to be able to fuck anyone he wants. But you love him and have lowered your standards so much that even if he has sex with someone else you would still cover up his mistakes. The line is drawn at emotional attachment now.

You run home, and when you would normally feel pain in your lungs, this time you’re so numb you cannot feel it. You slowly approach the porch, quietly walking now so as to not wake your landlord.

In your bathroom, five a.m. and there is a knife sitting to your right on the floor. Why doesn’t anybody care about you? You pick it up.

Your mom’s response to your university acceptance was “fuck you”. Your dad hasn’t talked to you in months. Your sister, who you depend on, you woke up to her making out with a guy in the same bed as you.

You’re sitting on the bathroom floor of a place you pay for with money you made from sweeping popcorn up in theaters and cleaning shit up in public bathrooms. You put the knife down, you have worked too hard to end here. You have worked too hard to give up because your family doesn’t love you.

University is on the horizon; your future, beginnings, everything you have ever looked forward to. It is coming. You know you’ll be broke, but you’ve been emotionally broken for years – and being financially broke is nothing when you have your freedom.

Burdens You Face

Creative Writing, Family, feminism, home, Journal, no trust, Personal, Poetry, Relationships

We burden her.
She won’t admit it, but we burden her.

We talk, but she doesn’t like being reminded of her burdens.
We cry, and her burdens are overwhelming.
She can’t stand us.

Forbid her burdens have issues that need attention.
Forbid they demand health treatments that cost money.

Isn’t it feminist to be selfish?
She wants to think so, and selfishness it is.

This burden doesn’t react well when yelled at by the Abusive Coward,
But let’s slap a “sensory overload” tag on it and call it good.

That burden doesn’t like being threatened by the Abusive Coward,
It leaves and it’s a bad, bad burden.

The smallest burden, the loudest, it needs attention and her time,
but that time is called for by the Abusive Coward.

The coward, he is the victim when he strikes a Burden.
The coward, he is the victim when he threatens a Burden.
The coward, he is the victim when a Burden cries.

She sees humanity in the coward,
She sees love in the coward,
She sees hope, light, and prospect in him.

Her burdens weigh her down,
Suck her dry, they kill her spirit.
Despite being their mother, these burdens are inhuman.

She carried them around, 9 months each.
9 months to learn to despise them,
9 months to learn she would never have freedom.
9 months to realize she carried the children of a man she loathed.

I am her burden, one which has been steadily growing seventeen years.
I am her problem, which she can’t ignore.
I am the outspoken burden which plagues her,

Plaguing her existence with demands.
Fair treatment.
Therapy.
Vegetables.

Extremities which cannot be fulfilled.
Demands which are impossible.
Requests that are beyond capability.
I am your burden, mom.

At The End of The Day

Blame, Domestic Violence, Family, fathers, feminism, forgotten, fuck you, Future, home, Hope, Humanist, Journal, no trust, Personal

Who does Bryan think he is? To come downstairs and start raising his voice at me in my house, on the one day I have off from school and other activities.

Sure, our house wasn’t clean, but I was going to clean it. I made a To Do list and cleaning the whole house was on there..

But instead of rationally discussing the fact that there was a dirty pan on the stove and the floor could stand to be swept, he yelled at me. He threw something across the room and saying “go ahead and run away” as I packed up my things so I could do my homework in peace.

On that note, I shouldn’t have to fucking worry about being able to do my homework on a saturday when it’s just me there with my moms boyfriend. I shouldn’t have to think twice about having to come home when it will just be him and I there. He can’t control his temper, he has anger outbursts. He spanks kendra out of anger when Riley and I have expressed our discomfort with it, when we have talked to our mom and told her how we feel.

I shouldn’t have to feel like my mom won’t listen to me because she will automatically take sides with Bryan. She doesn’t hear what I have to say, or she does but she doesn’t care that her boyfriend makes my life uncomfortable. That he makes me uncomfortable in my own home.

I am valid in feeling like my mother’s boyfriend should not raise his voice at me when I am alone with him. I am valid in feeling that my mom does not care about my emotions when she sides with him. Just because my mom does not agree with me, just because my mom does not hear me, just because my mom is choosing to stay with a man who has hurt all of her children, does not make my opinions, feelings, or ideas invalid.

At the end of the day, I am just a sixteen year old who wants her mother to care about her.

At the end of the day, I am just a sixteen year old who could really use a parent with good judgement.

At the end of the day, I just want to feel like someone has my best interest at heart.

Happy Father’s Day: Whores and Addiction

dads, Domestic Violence, Family, fathers, fuck you, Journal, Memories, no trust, Personal, sexual harassment

This Father’s Day I will quietly, but unashamedly, denounce Father’s Day because my father was no father to me.

For years, I would listen to the sound of his voice echo throughout our house as my family would try to sleep. His drunken, loud, angry voice yelling at my mom about things she could not control. The same man who threw my sweet, innocent puppy into our concrete patio,breaking some of her ribs…

ronpup

(This could be her as a puppy, the resemblance is uncanny)

The man who slept with prostitutes when working out of town – and didn’t tell my mom before sleeping with her again. Who drank profusely and stared at his twelve year-old daughters breasts that puberty had spit upon her chest. He wasn’t a graceful man, he wasn’t a nice man, he wasn’t even kind. As the naive and uneducated kid that I was, I loved him. He made my life. I was Daddy’s Girl.

As much as I wish I could still accept him, I know things that tore apart any love or sentiment I had for him. He did things that can’t be reversed with an apology, or with a fatherly kiss on the forehead. Even those kisses he planted on my forehead when he left for work have been tarnished because of reckless actions he didn’t have to take. He let his addiction come before his family, he let his love for whores come before his daughters, he let his lust for breasts taint the way I will see him for the rest of my life.

We lived in fear of what he would do next and we sure made hell seem happy – in our nicely furnished home, with our name brand clothing and smiles plastered to our faces. Mom gently reminding us “Don’t air your dirty laundry“, because she knew exactly what would happen if people found out what happened behind our closed doors.  We did such a good job hiding it, when we finally came out and proclaimed the truth, no one believed us.

So, no. I am not celebrating father’s day. I understand that some people have nice fathers, however foreign that may seem to me right now. Some people love their dads, they might even have good relationships with them.. But to me, father’s day may as well be what Hanukkah is to an Atheist: absolutely meaningless.

Dirty Dishes and Climaxing

Family, Future, Journal, Love, Memories, no trust, Personal, sex, Sexuality, Uncategorized

To say that I am confused or that I don’t understand the things that have happened to me would be an understatement. I believe that under all the stress and mental illnesses that have crept in and hijacked my mind, I am still happy somewhere in there. To find that happiness again will be a major task, and I’m willing to take it on.

If I could have one wish granted, it would be for clarity and understanding of the problems I have at hand.

I have felt overweight and cumbersome this last week. When I imagine myself walking down the stairs, I feel like an overweight walrus and I can feel the fat on my thighs jiggling. I can’t wear anything but loose clothing because my stomach looks enormous and this all started when my mom mentioned that she saw me binge eating.. I hadn’t done that in a long time, but I did that once and ever since I have felt like my entire body is made out of lard.

My sister stormed out of the house today and drove two hours to stay with her boyfriend, and none of us are sure if she’s moving out or if this is temporary. My mom was in tears all night, she cried on my shoulder… Someone else’s wet tears on my bare skin is an uncomfortable feeling.

I’ve been through so much, what I’ve learned is that I do not like being alone. I cry when I’m alone. I hate myself when I am alone. I get angry about the mistakes I’ve made and scream when I’m alone. I yearn for companionship and to be loved when I am alone. If I had an instruction manual, it would say that I require partnership 24/7 and to be intensely cared for without me realizing it – once I am aware that someone loves me, I stop loving them. I detached myself and become emotionless toward them.

When I love someone and find out they love me too, it’s like maintaining masturbation when people are awake. You know you’ll have a hard time climaxing just because your little sister is screaming and your mom is yelling about how no one does the dishes – and any chance you had of continuing with pleasure goes down the drain because dirty dishes and climaxing are not compatible.

That’s what happens when someone loves me. I can’t maintain my feelings. They go away without any chance of revival, unless scenarios change.

Empty Audience

Family, forgotten, fuck you, Memories, no trust, Personal, Uncategorized

I’m angry. Very angry. Mostly at myself for allowing myself to put trust in someone.

It’s been a problem for me through my life, expecting people to be there at important life events. Like school presentations, recitals, HELL, MY GRADUATION. My theatre productions.

Hoping to see familiar faces in the audience, but as I got older, they started coming in smaller and smaller numbers until they just stopped altogether.

Like today, research presentation day. Everyone else had their parents there. All their mom’s and dad’s, siblings and grandparents even.

But not me, no one but my boyfriend is involved enough to even know the date of it, and he was the only one I decided to invite, that way I wouldn’t be disappointed when there weren’t any faces in the audience for me, because there would just be him. The only one I needed there.

But no. Of course not. Of course life had to screw me over and through another curve at me.

Of course, my boyfriend would not show up.

I remember thinking, as I was standing up and my name was being announced, “why did I let myself trust and set expectations?” I knew I shouldn’t have, people only ever disappoint.

And he didn’t show. So I did it alone, like I’ll probably do the rest of my life. It’s not that I enjoy being independent and doing things alone, because I love having people supporting me and getting roses after doing a piece at a piano recital. But after being let down time after time, I decided it wasn’t worth getting my hopes up because it hurt too much to see no one out there.

Isn’t it kind of funny? When I was 6 and only spent two hours a week practicing piano, and at the end of my recital after playing a dumb Little Mozart’s piece, I would get a dozen roses. But after I slaved hours away at a piano a day, and played seven page songs from memory, at those recitals, no one was even there.

And at the presentations I half-assed as a seventh grader, people supported, but today not a single face in the audience.

And last year at my shakespeare production, literally no one came to see my sister and I. I ran out into the audience after the production ended, expecting to see my aunts and uncles, even grandparents who promised to come, and found not a single soul there for me.

People don’t show up when you need them, and that is the most important lesson I’ve learned in years. Don’t rely on anyone, don’t expect anyone, don’t get your hopes up, because no matter what, they WILL let you down.