Thursday, February 28, 2013

Just a little bragging

I received a facebook email from Maggie.  I did not open it and deleted it right away and blocked her.  While I know it doesn't seem like a big deal, it was really hard for me.  I was in bed for a long time today, on pain killers and still in pain because of a medical condition.  The pain killers knock me out, so I didn't even really panic for long.  My heart raced for a few minutes, but I was able to calm it rather quickly.  I did not shed even one tear over it.

Saturday, February 23, 2013

The Temp.

I was looking for work at temp agencies today and suddenly felt very sad.  Foster care is a temp agency.  I have always been "the temp."  I am a temp in every relationship I've ever had.  I am the returnable/temporary kid/friend/girl/_____fill in the blank.  The few non-fosters I've tried to explain this feeling to just don't ever get it.  I don't have any former foster kid friends, so I am only guessing that they would even get it.  Maybe it's just me.

There are so many people who come into my life thinking they can help me, which is probably part of the problem.  They come into my life wanting to help me rather than wanting a normal/healthy relationship.  I don't even know who reads my blog anymore, but I'm sure the few people reading this from my real life think I'm about to write about them specifically.  The sad part is, I'm not writing about anyone specific person.  I'm writing about everyone  I'm writing about all the people who have come and gone from my life for whatever reason.  Because I'm pretty fucking intolerable.  I'm too broken to be loved.

Something weird happened to me yesterday.  I'm really embarrassed about how I acted when it happened.  I was in a bookstore with my sister when a man started talking to me.  I was really nervous at first and weirded out.  People do not talk to you in LA unless they are crazy, at least that's the mentality there.  People DO talk to you in my new city.  It's a little alarming at first, but once I calm my nerves, I am able to be friendly back.  I am building a "catio" for my vegan friends tomorrow so I was in the bookstore looking at books of chicken coops and other types of enclosures when the man started talking to me about how he wants to have chickens some day and he started asking me about it.  I told him I was building an outdoor enclosure for my lesbian vegan friends' cats.  We started joking about how that's so very cliche for this city.  We talked for like twenty minutes or so.  When I said I had to go, he asked me if I would get a drink or a coffee with him tomorrow (today).  I kind of just stared at him for a second.  He then said, what if we went next door at around 7?  I still didn't say anything.  He gave me his number.  I finally said something when I grabbed the piece of paper.  "Sure."

 I didn't really think about it too much until much later when I was stuck in traffic after dropping my sister off at her downtown dorm.  Then a huge wave of panic rushed through me.  I couldn't breathe.  Heart was racing.  It began to dawn on me that he might have asked me out on a date.  I had to pull off the freeway and let myself have a full blown panic attack.  Who has a panic attack over something like this?  Me apparently.  Apparently a man asking me out also makes me feel really bad about myself.  I started to go through my long list of recordings in my head about how ugly, fat, stupid, boring, crazy I am.  No one would want to date me.  Maybe he just wanted to talk more about the catio.  I seriously cannot think of one reason a decent looking guy would ask me out.  I was also a little freaked out because he shares a name with my bio brother.  I was so worked up about it all of last night.  I wasn't able to sleep until four or five in the morning.  I was having flashbacks, panic attacks, feeling really sad about my last relationship and all the other relationships that have failed in my life.  When I finally did fall asleep, I had nightmares about my abuse.  Really brain?  Why can't I just be a normal person and feel happy when someone asks me out?  Why do I have to freak out about everything?  I am so freaking messed up that just the idea of sharing the same physical space with a man for the duration of a coffee gives me nightmares.  I sent him a text message this morning to cancel the possible "date."  I'm probably going to be alone for the rest of my life.  Forever the temp. 

Thursday, February 21, 2013

Rumination, sister, ballots

I have found comfort in the expectant soft thumping of raindrops hitting the skylight above my air mattress late at night.  Sleep hasn't been easy for me lately.  Not that it ever is.  I spend my nights too anxious about finding a job or my brain too stuck in a stubborn cycle of worry and rumination and those constant feelings of abandonment, self hatred, anxiety, yearning, and dread.  It hurt quite a bit the first time, so why does my brain want to constantly revisit everything?  There is so much to worry about.  Always.  I have to get back into mindfulness, medication management, and therapy.  I'm worried that I'm going to start a job and then not be able to handle the stress because my meds are all off and I don't have an emotional support system here.   

Have you ever been sitting with someone, missing them so much you could cry?  I was with my sister today.  Despite assuring me that she does not drink very often last week, she told me that she got very sick yesterday from drinking too much.  She thinks it's funny, but I am very sad.  We sat at a cafe today for quite a while.  She ate eggs and drank an iced tea.  I sipped on a hot green tea and looked for jobs on my computer.  That's what I tried to do anyway.  I was pretty distracted by my sisters behavior.

I dissociate a lot, so I understand this behavior.  But I don't think I understand what my sister experiences.  Today she spent much of the day completely in her own world.  It was hard to connect with her at all today.  She wasn't even really able to respond or acknowledge when I was speaking to her.  She was either completely in her own world, cut off from me, or going off on incomplete tangents.  Tangents full of incomplete thoughts and sentences about very deep subjects like subliminal messages and mind control.  A few times she would giggle and mutter to herself.  I've never seen this behavior from her before.  It scares me.  There was only 18 inches of wood between us, but she was in a totally different world from me.  She has picked up this habit of asking, "Do you know what I'm saying?" It's just a filler phrase.  She never leaves any room for you to actually answer.  As soon as she says it, she's started on another topic with more scattered incomplete sentences.  No, Honey, I don't know what you're saying.  I'm watching this disease take my sister and I feel so freaking helpless.  It's like cancer, but with fewer treatment options and with patients who don't believe they are sick. I don't know what to do.  I feel so guilty that I can help her.

I've been helping a group of want to be foster parents fight to change a law in Arizona.  I wrote a letter which they read at a couple hearings.  I thought the bill had already won, but I guess I was mistaken because they wrote to me today to ask me to write an email to all the representatives who voted no.  I am happy to help, but it makes me sad that there are good, capable, caring people who are being prevented from being foster parents for nonsensical reasons.  So I've written a couple of heartfelt letters, but I really feel like pounding a little bit of my life into these state representatives.  I don't know how else to make them understand that it's not a numbers or a political game.  It's not a game at all.  It's the lives and well being of children.  I feel quite a lot of pressure with this.  So many people are hoping I can change minds with my letters.  I don't want to let all these people plus the foster children of Arizona down.  I tried my best.  I just hope my best is good enough for once in my life.  

Sunday, February 17, 2013

Hard lessons

I learned a hard lesson today.  Never tell your hypochondriac paranoid schizophrenic sister about a child you love needing a shunt replacement and everything that is involved with that.  OMG.

Today my sister and I went to a little cafe for lunch.  Since it was Sunday afternoon, we waited what seemed like forever, but was probably only 45 minutes or so to get a table, and I had to drive across town, pick her up, and drive her back across town because she insisted she take me out to this specific place.  She is almost incapable of making a decision like what she wants to eat, so we had to ask the waitress to come back later a few times.  Suddenly she asks if she can taste my water.  I say sure and slide my glass over to her.  She tastes it.  "Does my water taste different to you?"  She asked me and slid both waters back my direction.  I tasted both waters, unsure now which one was mine in the first place.  They tasted exactly the same.  I reminded her that we watched the waitress pour the water from the stainless steel pitcher when we sat down.  She insisted that they brought the water to us, as she watched the waitress pour water at another table.  She grows very quiet before she asks if we can leave because she knows they put something in her water and that she knows they are going to poison or spit in her food because some nonspecific famous people are stalking her and followed her to this city to poison and spy on her.  "I can see you are feeling really anxious right now.  How about you order my food and I will order yours and then we will switch?  Will that make you feel better?"  She seemed to settle down at this idea, so that's what we did.  She ordered a big delicious salad for me and I ordered a sandwich for her.  The waitress brought our food and we let her set them down and walk away before we exchanged meals.  She ate in near silence, pretty much only eating the bread and meat in her sandwich and leaving most of it's contents on the plate.  I tried to interrupt the tension with jokes, like I always do, but she just wasn't going for it.  Once the check came and was paid for, I told her that I was proud of her for sticking it out even though I knew how anxious and upset she was and that I was really sorry she felt like that so often.  She seemed to be doing a little better but then suddenly became very angry and said I shouldn't be okay with her being treated differently than everyone else, that she deserves the same level of customer service and health safety as everyone else.  That she knows that people put something in her food and that they knew that she would never order a salad, so they put the poison in her food too.  She started to get really agitated and people began to stare, so I told her we had to leave. 

I had told her earlier about the boy who needs to have his shunt replaced, explaining what a shunt does and what it's for.  Suddenly she says her head hurts and she thinks maybe she needs a shunt too because someone poisoned her cigarettes with ketamine a few months ago and it damaged her brain.  She insisted that the shunt was needed because of a genetic condition and that she has it too.  I reminded her repeatedly that it wasn't genetic, the baby needs a shunt because of complications from being a micro-preemie but that he's totally healthy and extremely intelligent otherwise.  I reminded her that we are only half sisters, so even if it was genetic, it probably wouldn't have anything to do with her.  To make a very long, exhausting, sad story shorter, I ended up taking her to the ER because she was extremely agitated and demanding I take her.  I hoped we could find her some help.  This is not what happened.  They decided to humor her and x-ray her scull.  That probably would have worked except my sister is pretty intelligent despite her inability to reason and rationalize.  I hate when people treat her like a child and assume she will believe things a child would.  She wanted an MRI and a team of doctors to check her for poison.  Despite not getting the medical attention she wanted, or the psychiatric care she needed, she seemed okay by the time we left the hospital. I took her to get a hot tea and then took her home before I drove back to my friend's house.     

It's sad to see my sister like this.  She used to be a relatively normal child, but the older she gets, the worse she gets.  She is planning on going back to the middle east to be with her father for six months or so because I guess he's getting old and she's afraid he is going to die.  My memories of this man are not good ones, but apparently he has never hurt her, sexually or physically.  We don't talk about it, except when I asked her a few years ago if anything ever happened to her over there and let her know that I'm here for her if she ever needs to talk about that kind of stuff.  She said that she knows about the things I said happened to me in the middle east, but thinks that our mother made that stuff up and made me believe it.

It's so funny how many people have said that about all of my memories.  My mother went to prison for felony child abuse, but tells me that my memories are things that people made me believe, just stories other people planted in my head.  Foster care said that I was "regressing" and putting things from my past onto my current foster parents when they found out about my foster father raping me, my sister thinks my mother planted my memories of her father into my head.  Apparently none of my memories are real.  They are all made up by other people, according to everyone in my life.  Anyway, I am not sure why I am going down this road.  I think I was just very triggered by some of the stuff she said to me when she was upset and freaking out, and I'm triggered by everything else that's happening in my life right now.  My sister is the only relationship I have in my life, or have ever had, where I don't feel like an imposition, but my sister doesn't really exist anymore.  Not really.  I mean, physically she's here, some form of her anyway, but schizophrenia has eaten up her spirit.  I want so badly to have a family, any kind of family.  I want to be part of something, belong to something.  Even my sister has her own kind of family.  She refers to her full brother, my half brother, as "my brother," when talking about him and she says, "my father," when talking about her father who is also my stepfather.  She even refers to our mother as, "my mother" when she talks about her, so even my sister sees me as separate from "her family."

Even my sister has someone she calls when she's in trouble.  She has me, our brother, and she has her father who basically just sends her money.  But me, I have no one to call.  I don't have many people in my life.  Not people that I can totally let in.  I admire my sister in a way.  I think she's more authentic than me.  She's not afraid to let people see the heavy stuff.  I try to have relationships with people, but I can't ever let them see the heavy stuff.  Because when I let people see what is really happening inside my head, it never works out.  I try to keep people at a distance because once I start letting them close and I start to feel safe, it backfires and the relationships end.

The little boy's father sent me an email yesterday.  I am curious now if he is reading my blog.  Possibly.  If he is, I'm probably about to ruin any chance of him reaching out in the future.  I don't know.  Maybe he just knows that I read his very public, somewhat popular blog so I would definitely know what's going on right now.  I appreciate him reaching out to me.  It's really hard for me to know how to react or even what to feel.  I haven't responded because I am too afraid of saying the wrong thing and making things worse.  Would a short reply, "Thank you for the note, " be too short?  Would he think it was passive aggressive.  I am nervous that they read anger in everything.  I just have no idea how to respond.  I am extremely grateful for the contact.  But it's also heavy for me.  I still don't understand exactly what happened or why it took so little to be cut off and basically disowned from these people I created a family with.  Was what I did really worth complete abandonment and making me miss years of the little boy's life?  It has almost been two years since I've seen him.  Maybe it was, but I really wish I understood exactly what it is that I did.  I don't understand why it's so easy for so many to cut me off.  I'm afraid I am coming off as ungrateful with this paragraph, but I don't mean to.  I am very grateful that he threw me a bone, but I'm sad, and angry, and hurt, and a million other things all rolled into one.  Was what happened, and the awkwardness, hurt, confusion, and all that stuff we never talked about, really worth dumping me for?  Giving someone your eggs, and taking someone's eggs, complicates a relationship and we never once sat down and talked about those little and not so little things.  Why didn't I deserve at least one therapy session with them or even a phone call or face to face meeting before they ended things?  I was dumped over email.  Not one in person interaction.  I truly don't understand.  I never understand.  I guess that's the problem.

I don't understand why so many people tell me they love me and will never leave and then suddenly they're totally done with me so quickly.  I truly do not understand.  So I feel like having me in their lives must be a major imposition to people and I don't know how to change it.  I don't want people to change me, fix my life, or offer me too much.  I just want people to love me for who I am and not freak out when there is a problem.  Why don't people talk to me and tell me when things are wrong?  Sure, I might cry.  I might get angry, but I will always try to work things out with people that I love.  This is why I keep my distance in relationships.  Those that I let in, that I feel safe enough to act dysfunctional around, always end up leaving me.  I felt so connected to this family, and the mother of my egg baby.  I felt like I could share things with her, and so I did, but maybe that's where I went wrong.  I don't really connect with men very much, but I felt very connected to the boy's father too. 

People don't really want to know the deep, dark stuff.  Not really.  And I'm dying for someone to know the real me.  To really *GET* me, but it always drives people away.  Even those that think they get it.  Even my friends I've made who have PTSD or who have been in the hospital before just don't get it as much as I think they do.  Even my egg baby's mother has been in the hospital, so I thought she'd understand more than she does/did.  I thought she'd understand this pain I carry around all the time and it would be okay to let her in on some of it.  I just want someone who gets it.  Just one person who gets it.  Just one person who understands that I struggle with certain things and that I need a little extra understanding at times.  Someone who understands that I am not meaning to be difficult or offensive or hurtful when I become quiet and withdrawn.  I need someone in my life who talks to me when things become difficult or if I do something to hurt them and ask me about it.  I need someone who doesn't close the door when things aren't perfect.  Why is this too much for me to ask? 

I will always be here for my sister, even when she treats me like crap because I love her and I understand that she can't help it sometimes.  I don't let her get away with bad behavior, but she will never be able to drive me away.  I want someone that I can't drive away.  Someone who loves me no matter what.  Someone who understands I have challenges and tells me when my behavior isn't okay.  But someone who also understands that I am a pretty sensitive person, who is terrified of being hurt and abandoned all the time, because it's happened to me so often in my life.  God.  I just want ONE person to be my family, even if we don't call it that.  Life has taught me some really hard lessons and I've adapted to survive, but those adaptations are hurting me today.  Or maybe I haven't adapted enough because the only thing I have ever wanted in life are solid relationships, but I have never been able to hang on to one.

Having said all of that, I am very grateful I have a place to sleep tonight.  I don't know what I would do without my awesome vegan friends with the six lovable kitties.  Thank you for being so welcoming.  <3 

Friday, February 15, 2013

Things...

I'm extremely worried about a child I care about who is in the ICU.  I wish I had a ton of money so I could shower him with things to express to him and his parents how much I care about all of them.  I have kept my distance because I know that's what they want but it's extremely difficult.  Besides that, things are going okay here.  Both my interviews went well this week, so I'm hoping that means I will get one of the jobs.  I sent out a bunch more cover letters and resumes this week as well.  I hope something comes through soon.  I have a place to stay and am very lucky to have friends who would take me in at a time like this, but I also don't want to invade my friend's space for too long.  I hate being this dependent on people.  I've been having a lot of second thoughts about moving here.  I miss my friends in LA.  I don't have many friends up here, so I'm feeling kind of lonely.  I wish I was able to find a job in LA or force all my friends to move to the new city with me.  Feeling lonely makes it harder for me to stop dwelling in the past and worrying about the future.  I want to get to know people here and make friends, but I need to get a job and a place to live first.  I really miss my pets. 

Wednesday, February 13, 2013

:'(

Have you ever had to find out that someone you love is in the ICU for something extremely serious on a blog because you are no longer part of the family?

I have.

Tears.  Lots and lots of tears.

Tuesday, February 12, 2013

Grateful

It has begun to rain!!  And while I now live in a place where rain is not headline news, I am grateful for it.  It feels cleansing to me.  I am still very sad and confused about my inability to maintain relationships but grateful for the few friends I do have in my life.  I am thankful for this blow up mattress and warm place to sleep.  I am thankful for the skylight and tiny squirrel feet that walk across it in the morning.  I am grateful for the delicious vegan food I've been fed and the six needy kitties that I get to snuggle.  I am thankful that I am not sleeping in my car tonight as I try to sleep before another big interview tomorrow.  I am grateful for the rain and so happy to have shelter from it. 


Monday, February 11, 2013

stuck

this is not intended to point fingers or make anyone feel bad.  I'm just trying to find some kind of acceptance and understanding of myself.   I have not read through this so I don't know how coherent it is.  I could not pick a tense either. 

Today is a new week

I've had one very stressful week.  Living in my car, screwed up relationships. You really learn who cares about you and who doesn't when you are in a crisis of living in your car in freezing temps.  I'm really sad that a friend I've known since I was 12 seems to be really angry with me.  Not even sure what I did there. (Never mind.  I made wrong assumptions).  Have not heard from another friend at all since everything on Friday which makes me feel...  A lot of tough feelings.  I'm batting a thousand with people this week.  Anyway more with my week-- migraines, panic, anxiety, just feeling totally hopeless and overwhelmed with life.  I am lucky that my former therapist let me call her and sob on the phone.  I asked her not to, but I think Dr. K even tried to call people for me, even though I don't think she ever got a response. 

So far this Monday I have:  A place to stay for a little while (Vegans to the rescue.  Thank you!).  A car that still runs.  Have been spending time with an old friend (a friend from a long time ago, not an elderly friend), and I had a job interview today.  I totally rocked this interview.  I feel really good about it.  I made them laugh (but not too much) and they said I asked really good questions.  There was an easy kind of chemistry between me and the three women who were interviewing me.  It was not at all like the interview I had before.  After the interview I was given an exam.  I'm not sure how well I did on that, but I showed all my work, hopefully they won't count a wrong answer or two that much against me.  I really feel super confident I might get this job, and it pays pretty well with good insurance.  I feel super qualified and confident in my skills for the job too.  Feeling calmer and a little bit more hopeful than I have in a while.  Although I'm also a bit scared of this feeling.  

Saturday, February 9, 2013

My f-ing head

I'm still alive.  Really sad and really freaking cold, but still alive.  I haven't eaten in a couple of days.  I didn't eat the other day because I felt really sick.  When I get migraines, I am kind of seriously disabled for much of the day, can't eat, blurry vision, can't think or speak well.  When I had a place to live I used to lay in my bathtub or the bathroom floor on the cold tile something frozen on my head.  All I can really take in when I have a migraine in is my head is pounding pounding pounding pounding.  It's always the right side of my head.  Often times they are stress triggered but I don't really have control of them.  I can't choose to not have them or turn them off, even when they come at really bad times.  I have been having really bad headaches today.  Not migraines though, just bad bad headaches.  So last night I took four ambien on an empty stomach.  I was having major panic attacks, and I really just wanted to sleep it off and not think about the fact that I was sleeping in my car, in 30 degree weather, near a bridge that I didn't have the guts to jump off.  And the sad part was, the guts had nothing to do with ending my own life.  It was literally about my guts.  It had to do with the people who would have to witness or clean up after my jump.  They have these signs on the bridge that says "We can help you cross this bridge" and give a number for a crisis hotline.  I guess I'm not the first person to think of it.

I took four ambien on an empty stomach and ended up barfing most of the night.  Throwing up is always so much grosser when there is nothing in your stomach.  Well, there was hot tea in my stomach, so there was that, I guess.  My night consisted of this, I think, pass out.  Wake up, open my car door, vomit up nothing or stomach acid, close my door and pass out.  Repeat.  I was never awake for more than a few minutes today until a couple hours ago and even now I feel like I'm fighting to stay away.  I managed to move my car so I won't become suspicious.  I still can't eat.  Too depressed or whatever.  I face another night in my car.  It sucks that I do have a few hundred dollars in my paypal account but I can't get access to it for three to four business days.  I requested to transfer the money to my bank account yesterday, so I probably won't get it until the middle of next week.  Maybe my unemployment will come in by then too.  Who knows.

I talked to Dr. K today.  She wants me to go to a shelter because it's not safe in my car.  I have nightmares about shelters that I stayed in as a child, and a few times when I was 18-21.  The jobs that I have interviews for are for a place that finds people services, so I'm afraid to seek services and ruin my chance at the jobs.  Dr. K doesn't think I should go to a hospital because my suicidal thoughts are a chronic condition.  I wish I was dead.  I want to die, but this isn't any different for most of my life.  The hospital is just a holding pin and pill factory anyway.  She agrees that I would be stuck with a bill for thousands of dollars.  Why do people think the bill just disappears when someone can't pay for it?  I'd be stuck with a bill that would ruin my credit and any chance of any kind of financial future...  apartments, cars, credit cards, buying a house.  Everything you need credit for.

But really, none of this matters anyway.  I can't keep relationships and that's the only thing I have ever wanted in life.  I fuck up everything, and everything always ends up being about my "mental health" instead of what the real issues are.  It always turns in to how crazy I am instead of the real issues with people who know about my mental health issues.  I can't keep any sort of relationship in life because I'm a fucked up piece of shit that no one really cares about.  I have people who say they care about me, but they never really do.  Not really.  Or I find out how they really feel when they think I can't hear them say mean things and even use a whole voice for me and everything.  I can't win.  I'm either too fucked up or too avoidant, or everything has to mean something.  My whole life everything I do MEANS something.  I had a migraine and stayed in bed too long which MEANT something about my mental health.  I talk too much, that MEANS something about my mental health.  I don't talk enough, that MEANS something about my mental health.  I can't win.  I can't just BE without it having to mean something.  Why can't I find people who love me for me, crazy and all?  Why can't I find people who love me for me and aren't always looking to make sure I have enough gratitude for the things they do for me.  I'm always grateful, but being grateful to everyone for absolutely everything your whole life is exhausting, especially when your anxiety, ptsd, etc.. gets in the way.   Why can't I find anyone who can look past these things I struggle with and love me anyway?  Why doesn't anyone just see me, the person stuck underneath all this crap?  I never try to hurt people on purpose.  I never try to make people uncomfortable or upset.  This is just what happens to me.  I hate it.  I can't stand it.  I don't know how to live with it, but I haven't been able to change it.  And no one will stick around or look passed it and see the person inside this awful human being.  I just want someone to see me and love me even when I piss them off. But I will never have that because I'm too fucked up.  I'm not worth it.  I mean it.  I'm too much fucking effort and not much gain. 

It is true that when my anxiety gets really high I hide, but it's not indicative of anything other than my anxiety is extremely high.  My flight or flight response is always on high.  They don't call it an anxiety disorder for nothing.  What seems like no big deal to people becomes seriously debilitating for me.  I become paralyzed with fear and anxiety.  It might just be an uncomfortable situation for most people but for me it's impossible.  Just seeing people who are angry with me makes it hard to breathe.  My head spins with fear and unwelcome thoughts.  I second guess everything, even ridiculously small things like if I should shift my weight, move my legs,etc...  It's ridiculous.  I literally want to hide my face in my hands, blanket, lap.  Whatever.  I'm like a fucking ostrich.  I don't know why I am the way I am.  Maybe it comes from being beaten a lot as a child or because a lot of people sent me away in my life.  I don't know.  I've been in therapy for years trying to fix it, but this is what I have to deal with right now.  I don't really have a whole lot of control over it.  In the past, I would run away immediately.  I tried something different this time and it didn't work either.  My anxiety cripples me.  I have to fight my selective mutism every single day of my life.  I hate it.  My brain hates me.  My brain makes people hate me.  I've tried to change it my whole life.  I just can't seem to do it the right way.  My selective mutism hasn't gone away because I'm no longer a child.  I have to fight really hard.  I'm not being rude on purpose.  I just get paralyzed.  I'm a fucking loser.  Okay?  I'm fucking crazy I guess.  Pair my anxiety, mutism issues with a migraine and I pretty much fucked.   

People always care about me until they don't.  I make a mistake.  No matter how big or small and they instantly don't care about me anymore.  They will never admit to it though.  It will usually just spiral...  once I make the mistake they look for signs of everything else and get pissed off at me for everything.  I just don't understand people.  I can't figure people out and I never ever will.  I am just a piece of shit that people will eventually scrape off their shoes and walk away in disgust.  THAT is who I am.  That is ALL I am.  I guess it's fitting that I disappear in this cold, gloomy city.  It seems like an easy place to disappear.  I'm a fucking crazy, suicidal. anxious, socially retarded (sorry, I know that's not PC), piece of shit that no one wants around.  Why do people work so hard to convince me that they care about me?  I don't get it.  I really don't.  I am a fucking cosmic joke.  There is no future for me.  I have no one in life and I never ever will.  Many have tried to "change" and "fix" me and everyone has failed.  All I want in life is for people who love me even when I can't manage to behave in ways that people expect.  Maybe the cold weather will be kind to me and let me fall asleep and never wake up.  God, I hate me.  I fucking hate myself and all my fucking problems in life.  When will it be over? 

Types this on my phone, still high on ambien.  Sorry about the spelling, grammar, etc...

Djfkfjfdvfr

I took four ambien and I'm still awake in my car, heart pounding.  Crying.  I have nobody in life.  I'm in a new city all by myself.  I'm trying to sleep in my car, loaded with ambien.  I tried to jump off a bridge here but I wasn't bave enough or agile enough to climp up the edge.  Nothing can make you hate yourself more than I hate myself now. 

Everyones answer is always to tell me to go to the hospital.  I do not have insurance or an extra twenty thousand dollars.  Until my unemployment clears, I have 36 dollars, so I don't even have enough for a room.  There is no way I could go to the er alone anyway.  Not after what happened last time. 
People tell me they care about me, that they love me, but then they dump me.  Wtf is so wrong with me??  I'm just a fucking piece of shit.  How could anyone possibly care about me?
 
Fuck.  How many more ambien do I need to take before I sleep?  I can't tolerate consciousness anymore.

Friday, February 8, 2013

High

I'm sitting high above the city on a bridge.  I have no one in life.  No one.  Its way too fucking cold to sleep in my car.  I'm sitting up here looking at the lights.  It is pretty... 

No one can stick it out in my life.  No one.  People say they care about me then tell me to fuck off and go bug someone else.  Everyone dumps me.  Now I dump me. 

Cant.

I'm done.  I am just done.  No insurance.  No job.  No where to sleep.  No money in the bank until my last few weeks of unemployment kick in.  I am a fucking loser.  There is no place for me.

I've felt so sick all day today.  No sleep last night.  Migraine that never ends.  I had a massive flashback a few days ago and I'm still shaken by it.  I don't even know how I ruin relationships half the time.  Once alone, always alone.  I'm so tired of being alone.  It never ends and I can't do it anymore.

\ (0_0) /

I am a complete fuck up.  I mean it.  I screw up everything.  I have two interviews next week, but I doubt I will get either job.  I really do.  What am I doing in this city?  It's just been this fantasy land for my most of my adult life.  I never dreamed I'd be homeless here, but now that I face the possibility of sleeping in my car again, I'm wanting to go back to Arizona where it's warm and I know people.  I don't want to even think about a shelter.  I don't think I'd ever be able to sleep in one ever again. Maybe they will just let me shower there.  Fuck.  What is the point of my existence?  I mean really???? 

Thursday, February 7, 2013

One year

Today marks a year that she has been gone.  A whole year!  I still miss her terribly and I am constantly having to remind myself that she's not here anymore.  She's beside me right now.  In a wooden box.  Just dust in a box.  Her ashes are wrapped in a purple velvet bag that I have never opened.  I'm too afraid to see the actual ashes.  I'm not sure why.  I just can't look at a pile of ashes that used to be my precious little soul mate.  I'm sure there are some people rolling their eyes at that description and the fact that I can't seem to let her go.  "Just a cat."  No she's not!  Do You understand what it's like to be 18, a senior in high school, cuddled up with a cat late at night as you sleep in your car? Do you know what it's like to be terrified, sad, hopeless, and all alone, and have no one but this beautiful little creature who just knows when to sit on your chest and purr?  Knowing when to push her little face into yours, purring and letting out little grunts just because you looked at her.  I miss her so fucking much.  And I'm still so angry that she's gone because I made a careless mistake.  She should be sitting beside me, purring and demanding love and Fancy Feast.