Shit. All I really want to do is curl up in fetal position in the corner and cry. I kind of want to be dramatic about it as well. I picture myself with eyes so swollen that I look like I have been beaten up and tears that won’t stop saying over and over again “Why doesn’t anyone love me?” Are you feeling sorry for me yet? Don’t be. I refuse to pull any of that dramatic shit.
It has been one hell of a week. I’ve survived the first week and if you even knew the half of it you would be handing my sorry ass a Grammy right now for the best performance of my life. And because I haven’t broke down completely with all the bullshit going on I’m going to get all high and mighty and coach you how to get through this if ever it should happen to you. Ready, set, go!
This is Rebecca’s sure fire way to survive a separation.
Step 1: Let Go. This is important. You can’t move on without doing this. Don’t try to tell me you love him and you know he will get around to loving you. Let go. This makes for a more civil separation if there is such a thing.
Step 2: Separate living spaces ASAP. Don’t be staying in the same house like idiots. With separation comes bitterness. By the time you get to this point you will have spent so much time beating each other up so surely you can both execute this move without trying to hold on to much.
Step 3: Purchase a big fucking bottle of vodka. Go ahead and make it Smirnoff. You deserve it. Don’t drink it now. You are still okay. However, you are going to need that shit the first night your kid stays the night with the ex. If you don’t have a kid then by all means get to drinking.
Step 4: This is the step where you realize you need to stop calling the ex. You won’t realize that though until he stops answering your calls and texts. A friend after separation probably isn’t going to be a big hit at first.
Step 5: Convince your family that this what you need by turning into some cleaning, smiling, singing control freak. They will think you are getting back to good. You will know it’s because if you stop moving for one second you will loose it and may never find composure again.
Step 6: When you exhaust yourself from cleaning and everything is spinning and you feel like you are going to faint because you haven’t been sleeping then go to a dark room, lay down in the bed and tell yourself that you are not going to fall apart over and over and over again. When everything stops spinning and you have blinked back any tears then you may get up and continue putting on that good show.
Step 7: Put down the god damned cell phone! Didn’t we already cover this? You will not call people. You will get used to being alone. Understand that there are people who care for you but if you are going to get past this and move on it will need to be alone.
Step 8: Do try to remember to eat something every once in awhile. You need to take care of yourself.
Step 9: Do not dwell on everything you are loosing. Think about what you want to gain.
Step 10: Write a about it. You’ve got to get it out somehow :)
Sunday, September 28, 2008
Wednesday, September 24, 2008
The quote goes something like, "The magic of first love is our ignorance that it can never end".......
It’s only the middle of the week and already it feels like it’s dragged on. It has been a most unusual week. It has been a very hard week. Mike and I have decided to separate. We have decided that we are no longer good together, that we no longer exist. It was a very mutual decision. One that has taken years to recognize and months to decide. It is what is best.
I’m okay with all this but I’m also very on edge. I have had no time to myself since the decision. I’m either at work or taking care of Abi or at the beck and call of my family. I feel like I’m going insane. A separation under normal circumstances would be hard but one where you aren’t given any alone time to deal with everything and cry is far worse. I took the day off of work to try and deal with everything and have been up and have been busier than if I were actually at work. My family really sucks right now.
I gave them notice that I would need to go into town to run errands and hoped against all hope that it would provide me some alone time. Then my mom informs me that I need to pick up my crack head brother and run him around. I have to think that if I can survive this without any time to deal than surely I am a lot stronger than I thought.
It makes it harder that Mike is still here. I don’t want to tell my family until he moves out. So I stay out of my usual hiding places to give him some space and have been forced to interact full time with my family. I do love them…I think. Someone is always yelling here. Even when they are talking they are yelling. I fell down the god damned stairs yet again this morning. Maybe I have already hit the point of crazy and just haven’t recognized it.
Fuck it…I’m going to Canada :)
I’m okay with all this but I’m also very on edge. I have had no time to myself since the decision. I’m either at work or taking care of Abi or at the beck and call of my family. I feel like I’m going insane. A separation under normal circumstances would be hard but one where you aren’t given any alone time to deal with everything and cry is far worse. I took the day off of work to try and deal with everything and have been up and have been busier than if I were actually at work. My family really sucks right now.
I gave them notice that I would need to go into town to run errands and hoped against all hope that it would provide me some alone time. Then my mom informs me that I need to pick up my crack head brother and run him around. I have to think that if I can survive this without any time to deal than surely I am a lot stronger than I thought.
It makes it harder that Mike is still here. I don’t want to tell my family until he moves out. So I stay out of my usual hiding places to give him some space and have been forced to interact full time with my family. I do love them…I think. Someone is always yelling here. Even when they are talking they are yelling. I fell down the god damned stairs yet again this morning. Maybe I have already hit the point of crazy and just haven’t recognized it.
Fuck it…I’m going to Canada :)
Sunday, September 21, 2008
I have a torrid love affair going on.........
With books that is. I fear that no one, not no one loves books as much as I. I'm dealing with it and moving on. Let me tell you though that you are missing a great deal when you don't make a proper habit of reading. However, I'm moving on.
I just finished another book today. I won't go into detail but it was good. I thought a great deal after I finished reading the book. I kept wondering what it is was that I liked about the book so much and then it hit me. Though the book was dry in some places there were moments where the words were perfect. They could stand alone from the book and still have a great deal of meaning.
I don't need books to relate to my life so I can relate to them. It's nice when it happens from time to time but I don't need it. I need them to teach me more than anything. I can't relate to people sometimes, a lot of times. Along the way I find a few people that I can learn from but I understand words more than anything.
Words so beautifully contained in books are always there. Sometimes I don't understand what they are saying and I have to mature a little and then come back and read them. This happened the first time I read "1984". I thought it was rubbish the first time I tried to get through it. The second time I picked it up I didn't stop reading it until I was done with it, until I was pissed off and crying like a mad woman in the end. That's the way it is with me...I am moved more by words and less by people.
Everyone knows who Nelson Mandela is. One day I purchased his biography "Long Walk To Freedom" at the book store. It turns out I did not know who he was at all. I was so moved by his book. I learned how ignorant I was about the struggles of South Africa. I learned how ignorant I was as a person. You could have yelled at me before I read that and told me how ignorant I was about South Africa's struggles but I would have disregarded you. I get written words though. I get books.
It's why I get so dissapointed in movies. I can't take it when a book I love so much gets turned into a movie. After a few tries of trying to watch the book turned into a movie go around I gave up. Unless I didn't fancy the book so much I won't watch the movie. It makes me pissed off when vital parts are left out and characters are cast all wrong. I get irate when the acting is not passionate enough for the words. If you have ever read "White Oleander" by Janet Fitch do not ever see the movie. It is awful and all wrong.
I use books as an escape always. They are precious to me. I don't need to brag and say that I can read a book in a day or that I read so many books each week. It doesn't matter. Perhaps reading is a different experience for each individual. I am only concerned that books provide an escape for me when I need, give me an excuse to cry when I need it, and teach me something always. It is enough for me.
I just finished another book today. I won't go into detail but it was good. I thought a great deal after I finished reading the book. I kept wondering what it is was that I liked about the book so much and then it hit me. Though the book was dry in some places there were moments where the words were perfect. They could stand alone from the book and still have a great deal of meaning.
I don't need books to relate to my life so I can relate to them. It's nice when it happens from time to time but I don't need it. I need them to teach me more than anything. I can't relate to people sometimes, a lot of times. Along the way I find a few people that I can learn from but I understand words more than anything.
Words so beautifully contained in books are always there. Sometimes I don't understand what they are saying and I have to mature a little and then come back and read them. This happened the first time I read "1984". I thought it was rubbish the first time I tried to get through it. The second time I picked it up I didn't stop reading it until I was done with it, until I was pissed off and crying like a mad woman in the end. That's the way it is with me...I am moved more by words and less by people.
Everyone knows who Nelson Mandela is. One day I purchased his biography "Long Walk To Freedom" at the book store. It turns out I did not know who he was at all. I was so moved by his book. I learned how ignorant I was about the struggles of South Africa. I learned how ignorant I was as a person. You could have yelled at me before I read that and told me how ignorant I was about South Africa's struggles but I would have disregarded you. I get written words though. I get books.
It's why I get so dissapointed in movies. I can't take it when a book I love so much gets turned into a movie. After a few tries of trying to watch the book turned into a movie go around I gave up. Unless I didn't fancy the book so much I won't watch the movie. It makes me pissed off when vital parts are left out and characters are cast all wrong. I get irate when the acting is not passionate enough for the words. If you have ever read "White Oleander" by Janet Fitch do not ever see the movie. It is awful and all wrong.
I use books as an escape always. They are precious to me. I don't need to brag and say that I can read a book in a day or that I read so many books each week. It doesn't matter. Perhaps reading is a different experience for each individual. I am only concerned that books provide an escape for me when I need, give me an excuse to cry when I need it, and teach me something always. It is enough for me.
Thursday, September 11, 2008
Is being nice the same as being dramatic? I guess so.
I took a long drive to wal-mart with Matt today at work. We had a loooong discussion about work. We both concur that it just ain't what it used to be. Besides Emilie (and okay some of the boys are okay....) work fucking sucks. I've never had to tiptoe around anyone at work. Never at subacute was there ever drama. Not since all the kids came along anyway. One might say that me writing this blog is just as dramatic. I say fuck you. Stop reading now if you don't want to hear the shit. This is my venting place. If you don't like it then get out....real quick like.
Rod Stewart showed up on facebook yesterday and he was quickly followed by Right Said Fred. I don't care what any moron says, that shit is hilarious. It has given most of us the good laugh we all deserve after a horrible week filled with to much tension. Facebook has always been drama at work....well it was okay until all the kids. I've made mention before how it's used to let you know if you are cool or not. Unfortunately yesterday I had to go there and delete a few fellows. It's to much. People scoping my page then texting my legions of haters to tell them what I'm up to in the facebook world. I made the choice to go there and I'm okay with it. It was refreshing but not without the consequence of the deleted person texting me to see if I was really mad and to see if I would take her back. I won't.
Rod decided to invite everyone to be his friend on facebook. He shouldn't have, I told him he was a silly bitch for doing it. But he was all like "Rebecca I love everyone and besides I saw Mary being cool with you in passdown, that bloody bitch wants to be my friend". So he invited everyone. There were consequences to be dealt with. Rod had no idea.
Abi is half asleep and we are hanging out. All of a sudden I get this text:
15743090479: did you create the character on facebook roderick david stewart?
Me: Who is this?
15743090479: alena
Me: Yes. It is not a joke on anyone though so please don't get mad. Its just supposed to be funnny...I didn't want it to look like I was making fun of anyone so I invited everyone. It's just fun so don't be offended.
15743090479: i know but what part of dont bug me did you not understand when i talked to you in the med room? if im not friends with you why would i be with some character
Me: Shit. I cant keep up. I was trying to be cool about it. I am not trying to be hateful with it. I am not the evil person you are trying to make me out to be.
15743090479: i just dont want to have anything to do with you becca..in all honesty. why would i? there is so much drama i just rather keep my distance from u.
Me: Sure. All the drama at work stems from me. You know nothing about me. I wont say i have never said or done things i dont regret. But its nothing more than anyone else has done. I have always tried to do that right thing. I am not any more dramatic than anyone else there.
Me: Got it already.
15743090470: im not friends with u on FB. i would think its common sense that i wouldnt add a character that you have made up we can talk on a work/need basis. all thats need
Me: Got it already. Chill.
15743090470: well i hope you do get it...i thought you got it last time we talked but apparently not. so to put it bluntly leave me the fuck alone....unless work related.
Wow. That was some texting. I've never had the angry texting before. It was crazy. Now keep in mind the whole time Mary was texting me her lackey Jami was texting me to ask if I still loved her and if I was mad at her. Crazy bitches. Sure I'm dramatic. I'm not saying I'm not. But I put an olive branch out there and Mary shoved it up my ass. It hurt a little. I'm being easy on my bum today.
It's crazy. I was at a looow place last night. I mean really low. I'm not worried about what others think so much but to have a group of people at work that thinks I'm the most evil person ever. Well, enough said.
I chatted with Diona online. And because I know she reads this I will say thanks for the chat. However, I would just like to send a big shout out to Emilie for telling me I was just trying to be nice (I was) and that Mary can shove it. And a double thanks to Ryan for cracking my shit up about the whole thing.
Thankfully at the end of all this I have Abi to cuddle with. Oh Abi. She's never going to be a Mary or Jami or a pussycat doll or a bratz lover. I know her to well. I really wanted to listen to the Beatles with her these past couple of days but there isn't any noise aloud in Shepardsville or something. I think her and I might have to go do something fun tonight. Girls night....sans drama.
All I have to say is bring Friday on. I'm ready to book club it up.
Rod Stewart showed up on facebook yesterday and he was quickly followed by Right Said Fred. I don't care what any moron says, that shit is hilarious. It has given most of us the good laugh we all deserve after a horrible week filled with to much tension. Facebook has always been drama at work....well it was okay until all the kids. I've made mention before how it's used to let you know if you are cool or not. Unfortunately yesterday I had to go there and delete a few fellows. It's to much. People scoping my page then texting my legions of haters to tell them what I'm up to in the facebook world. I made the choice to go there and I'm okay with it. It was refreshing but not without the consequence of the deleted person texting me to see if I was really mad and to see if I would take her back. I won't.
Rod decided to invite everyone to be his friend on facebook. He shouldn't have, I told him he was a silly bitch for doing it. But he was all like "Rebecca I love everyone and besides I saw Mary being cool with you in passdown, that bloody bitch wants to be my friend". So he invited everyone. There were consequences to be dealt with. Rod had no idea.
Abi is half asleep and we are hanging out. All of a sudden I get this text:
15743090479: did you create the character on facebook roderick david stewart?
Me: Who is this?
15743090479: alena
Me: Yes. It is not a joke on anyone though so please don't get mad. Its just supposed to be funnny...I didn't want it to look like I was making fun of anyone so I invited everyone. It's just fun so don't be offended.
15743090479: i know but what part of dont bug me did you not understand when i talked to you in the med room? if im not friends with you why would i be with some character
Me: Shit. I cant keep up. I was trying to be cool about it. I am not trying to be hateful with it. I am not the evil person you are trying to make me out to be.
15743090479: i just dont want to have anything to do with you becca..in all honesty. why would i? there is so much drama i just rather keep my distance from u.
Me: Sure. All the drama at work stems from me. You know nothing about me. I wont say i have never said or done things i dont regret. But its nothing more than anyone else has done. I have always tried to do that right thing. I am not any more dramatic than anyone else there.
Me: Got it already.
15743090470: im not friends with u on FB. i would think its common sense that i wouldnt add a character that you have made up we can talk on a work/need basis. all thats need
Me: Got it already. Chill.
15743090470: well i hope you do get it...i thought you got it last time we talked but apparently not. so to put it bluntly leave me the fuck alone....unless work related.
Wow. That was some texting. I've never had the angry texting before. It was crazy. Now keep in mind the whole time Mary was texting me her lackey Jami was texting me to ask if I still loved her and if I was mad at her. Crazy bitches. Sure I'm dramatic. I'm not saying I'm not. But I put an olive branch out there and Mary shoved it up my ass. It hurt a little. I'm being easy on my bum today.
It's crazy. I was at a looow place last night. I mean really low. I'm not worried about what others think so much but to have a group of people at work that thinks I'm the most evil person ever. Well, enough said.
I chatted with Diona online. And because I know she reads this I will say thanks for the chat. However, I would just like to send a big shout out to Emilie for telling me I was just trying to be nice (I was) and that Mary can shove it. And a double thanks to Ryan for cracking my shit up about the whole thing.
Thankfully at the end of all this I have Abi to cuddle with. Oh Abi. She's never going to be a Mary or Jami or a pussycat doll or a bratz lover. I know her to well. I really wanted to listen to the Beatles with her these past couple of days but there isn't any noise aloud in Shepardsville or something. I think her and I might have to go do something fun tonight. Girls night....sans drama.
All I have to say is bring Friday on. I'm ready to book club it up.
Monday, September 1, 2008
I'm not on drugs, I swear.
The other night Mike asked me if I was on drugs. He was dead serious about it. His basis for the question was that I was acting weird. I still haven't figured out how I was acting but surely it wasn't like someone who was on drugs. My guess was that I was acting like someone who was tired and was hunkering down for a long stretch at work because the stupid kids at work keep quitting without giving notice. What, no. It must be drugs.
I discussed this with a friend. I was and am still puzzled by it. The advice I was given was to "just be yourself". And then it hit me, I don't know how because I'm not sure who that is. I've had more than one person say that they see several different sides to me. I'm not sure when that happened or how.
I would never say I'm trying to please anyone with these character changes. I think it happens because I just want to get by as easy as possible. If it makes it easier for me to deal with other people by adapting myself a little then that's what I do. Mike included.
But the more I think about it the more phony it sounds; the more unfair to myself it sounds. Is it possible to just be me with everyone? Truthfully that would probably piss some people off. I think I'm ready to start though. This whole gig of figuring out what the people in my life want and need where my personality is concerned and then trying to give it to them...it's done. I'm a bit to tired. I don't think it would be lying to say that the whole act has created some drama along the way.
I'm not sure how or when but I'll figure out who I am soon enough.
I discussed this with a friend. I was and am still puzzled by it. The advice I was given was to "just be yourself". And then it hit me, I don't know how because I'm not sure who that is. I've had more than one person say that they see several different sides to me. I'm not sure when that happened or how.
I would never say I'm trying to please anyone with these character changes. I think it happens because I just want to get by as easy as possible. If it makes it easier for me to deal with other people by adapting myself a little then that's what I do. Mike included.
But the more I think about it the more phony it sounds; the more unfair to myself it sounds. Is it possible to just be me with everyone? Truthfully that would probably piss some people off. I think I'm ready to start though. This whole gig of figuring out what the people in my life want and need where my personality is concerned and then trying to give it to them...it's done. I'm a bit to tired. I don't think it would be lying to say that the whole act has created some drama along the way.
I'm not sure how or when but I'll figure out who I am soon enough.
Sunday, August 24, 2008
Dig a little deeper and you'll realize all I'm building up you're tearing down.
It's official. I have PMS and I'm irritable and crampy and confused and frustrated and not at all rational for the next week or so.
Now that I've got that out of the way I'm ready to write. I'm old. Or at least that is how I feel after this weekend. I drank a lot of Friday night and I think it's official I need to lay off the shit. I never vomit or get hangovers and it happened. It means I'm old and don't you dare argue with me. I know my body. Only old age would make it respond that way. To be fair to my feeble body though it did hold a lot of vodka that night. And to be extra fair to it I took shots of some disgusting shit. I'm only equipped for vodka, that's it, the end. But the truth is I'm not even so sure about that anymore.
I've decided to be kinder to myself. I have been more abusive to myself than anyone could imagine. I'm a mess. My body is a mess. I think I'm finally tired of it. I don't know how it happens.
Little by little over the past few years I have opened up about my past. Shit, if you don't count those college kids at work everyone I know has had a rough childhood. Most of the people I know had it a lot worse than I did. But I let mine stick with me, a lot. Emilie and I chatted about it a little the other day.
I can't count the ways that I let the abuse in my childhood take over my adult life. It's there and each time I peel a layer of it off I find another crusty layer underneath. I don't blame anyone. Who's fault could it be? We all have so many issues. Perhaps my parents shouldn't have been aloud to reproduce but I am glad that I was born, that I am living. I'll take this life even if it means dealing with everything that did happen when I was a child.
It's funny. Today I was sitting in the living room just staring at a picture of my dad. He was so handsome in that picture. It's only been in the past year or so that I could look at his picture and not feel hate. Now I just wonder about him. If he can see me, is he okay with what I've become? I used to ask myself if he had the capacity to feel sorry for what he put us through. I think, if he were alive and well that he would feel sorrow for his actions. Though I don't think he ever wanted to hurt his children it can't be denied that he abused us and that he let us be abused. We got good at dodging his hand and learned to be silent when the hands of his shady friends and son would travel to my sister and I.
I know this is a bit serious. It's the mood I'm in. That picture of him is beautiful though. I think because I've finally forgiven him I can say that. I can also say that I miss him. I really want to see his grave again. I want to sit there and talk to him and leave him flowers. I'm going to take a road trip sometime when Abi is old enough to be without me for four or five days. I hope that wherever he is it is peaceful because he was never at peace when he was alive. I can remember when he was alive that we were never aloud to wake him up when he was sleeping. He had nightmares constantly and they were violent. I never thought about how hard it must of been for him, how hard his life must have been. And through all of his bullshit there really were some moments of clarity and peace. There were moments where I know he loved me and was proud. He always used to make me come to the dining room and would pull out my mom's huge chapter books when I was in kindergarten and first grade and would ask me to read for everyone. Because he couldn't read or write, he was so impressed that I could at such a young age.
I think that is why I've always held on to reading. He died when I was in second grade but I knew that me reading always made him proud. Not because I could at such a young age but because he never could. He left me with some fucked up memories but I find if I dig a little deeper I can find some okay ones. They aren't much but I'm holding on tight to them.
The issues that I have spent so much time running and hiding from really have taken a toll on my body. There are coping mechanisms that kick in when you need them that you don't realize. Obviously food has been one for me as well as selective memories. It took awhile to let myself deal with all the bad memories. I firmly believe that some children block out the really bad abuse until they can handle it. Those memories...they trickle out here and there. Good or bad, they are still part of me.
I've never tried to be a victim about any of it. I hate when abuse makes people attention seeking. But I'm sure it's happened here or there. I don't know. I think I'm setting out to find some new ways of coping. This shit that I do to myself just isn't working anymore. It's not for me or I'm not for it. Something like that.
Besides, I think I'm being a bit hypocritical at this point. It's getting really hard to teach my clients when I won't take any of my own advice. I hate hypocrites. I never plan on being one. It just happens.
That's it. Hopefully my blog never strays this direction again. I'm so not one of those girls, I swear. Hell, I try to be the furthest thing from sappy female there is. Just forgive me for this one.
Now that I've got that out of the way I'm ready to write. I'm old. Or at least that is how I feel after this weekend. I drank a lot of Friday night and I think it's official I need to lay off the shit. I never vomit or get hangovers and it happened. It means I'm old and don't you dare argue with me. I know my body. Only old age would make it respond that way. To be fair to my feeble body though it did hold a lot of vodka that night. And to be extra fair to it I took shots of some disgusting shit. I'm only equipped for vodka, that's it, the end. But the truth is I'm not even so sure about that anymore.
I've decided to be kinder to myself. I have been more abusive to myself than anyone could imagine. I'm a mess. My body is a mess. I think I'm finally tired of it. I don't know how it happens.
Little by little over the past few years I have opened up about my past. Shit, if you don't count those college kids at work everyone I know has had a rough childhood. Most of the people I know had it a lot worse than I did. But I let mine stick with me, a lot. Emilie and I chatted about it a little the other day.
I can't count the ways that I let the abuse in my childhood take over my adult life. It's there and each time I peel a layer of it off I find another crusty layer underneath. I don't blame anyone. Who's fault could it be? We all have so many issues. Perhaps my parents shouldn't have been aloud to reproduce but I am glad that I was born, that I am living. I'll take this life even if it means dealing with everything that did happen when I was a child.
It's funny. Today I was sitting in the living room just staring at a picture of my dad. He was so handsome in that picture. It's only been in the past year or so that I could look at his picture and not feel hate. Now I just wonder about him. If he can see me, is he okay with what I've become? I used to ask myself if he had the capacity to feel sorry for what he put us through. I think, if he were alive and well that he would feel sorrow for his actions. Though I don't think he ever wanted to hurt his children it can't be denied that he abused us and that he let us be abused. We got good at dodging his hand and learned to be silent when the hands of his shady friends and son would travel to my sister and I.
I know this is a bit serious. It's the mood I'm in. That picture of him is beautiful though. I think because I've finally forgiven him I can say that. I can also say that I miss him. I really want to see his grave again. I want to sit there and talk to him and leave him flowers. I'm going to take a road trip sometime when Abi is old enough to be without me for four or five days. I hope that wherever he is it is peaceful because he was never at peace when he was alive. I can remember when he was alive that we were never aloud to wake him up when he was sleeping. He had nightmares constantly and they were violent. I never thought about how hard it must of been for him, how hard his life must have been. And through all of his bullshit there really were some moments of clarity and peace. There were moments where I know he loved me and was proud. He always used to make me come to the dining room and would pull out my mom's huge chapter books when I was in kindergarten and first grade and would ask me to read for everyone. Because he couldn't read or write, he was so impressed that I could at such a young age.
I think that is why I've always held on to reading. He died when I was in second grade but I knew that me reading always made him proud. Not because I could at such a young age but because he never could. He left me with some fucked up memories but I find if I dig a little deeper I can find some okay ones. They aren't much but I'm holding on tight to them.
The issues that I have spent so much time running and hiding from really have taken a toll on my body. There are coping mechanisms that kick in when you need them that you don't realize. Obviously food has been one for me as well as selective memories. It took awhile to let myself deal with all the bad memories. I firmly believe that some children block out the really bad abuse until they can handle it. Those memories...they trickle out here and there. Good or bad, they are still part of me.
I've never tried to be a victim about any of it. I hate when abuse makes people attention seeking. But I'm sure it's happened here or there. I don't know. I think I'm setting out to find some new ways of coping. This shit that I do to myself just isn't working anymore. It's not for me or I'm not for it. Something like that.
Besides, I think I'm being a bit hypocritical at this point. It's getting really hard to teach my clients when I won't take any of my own advice. I hate hypocrites. I never plan on being one. It just happens.
That's it. Hopefully my blog never strays this direction again. I'm so not one of those girls, I swear. Hell, I try to be the furthest thing from sappy female there is. Just forgive me for this one.
Thursday, August 14, 2008
There are no words for that kind of dumb but I'll try my best.
Oh this blog. I see where it's headed. I am powerless over it's current road. You don't have to tell me. I know that there is a lot more inside of me than pent up anger resulting from work. Just let me sift through the anger people. I'm sure there is something worthwhile underneath.
I'm a pretty ignorant person. I really am. There is so much that I can learn that I haven't and there is so much I need to learn about. Hell, I can't even speak a complete sentence out loud without sounding dumb and mixing everything up. And when it comes down to writing I don't do it that well either. So before I go on and start sounding like a judgemental asshole I just wanted to point that out. I know I'm an asshole. I know I'm judgemental. But it's not going to stop me from complaining about dumb coworkers. Shit, I'm writing to an audience of one here and she doesn't mind so why not?
It's been a rough couple days at work kids. It will be that way until after next week. I'm dealing the best I can which would be impossible without Emilie. Even my boss is starting to feel it. You know something bad is going on when your boss starts the bitch session for the day and buys you a cookie afterwards. Mmmm...cookies.
We survive. What choice is there? As far as my shift goes we are all fucked. That would be all three of us. That's three people doing the job that it normally takes six people to do. That's counting the nurse we haven't had for ages though. We make it work though. One may be suprised to hear that we make it work without bribing the clients to be good and do what they are supposed to do.
I was pretty proud of that. When our crisis staffing situation started Emilie and I talked to all the clients and told them what was going down and how it would all be played out. We made sure they knew that unlike techs of the past there would be no bribing or laziness involved on our part. They would be expected to do what they needed to do to participate in their treatment and for that we would work our asses off to make sure we are providing them with what they need while maintaining high levels of respect on both sides. It's not unrealistic. It's actually worked okay.
Well, that is if you don't count the client who's really sick and has been refusing meds. But we've been there before. We agreed that he would not recieve extra's until he started self medicating again. It's not an easy conclusion. It means we've been through a couple days of name calling and mild threats because he's not getting what he demands. But we decided to stick to the plan. This morning he took his meds so he was able to start receiving coffee again. It's a small step.
Then evening shift comes in toting gifs to bribe him into doing what they want him to. I'm not trying to be an ass here but doesn't that totally undo every fucking thing we were trying to accomplish. God damn morons. That's right, I said it. And no I don't fucking feel bad about it.
Then I hear that they spent all last night trying to bribe him with extra food to get him to do stuff. We've been here before. There was a group of boys that gave him whatever he wanted. When we don't do that he eventually becomes violent on our shift. I know. Emilie and I have dodged the plates he decided to throw when his demands didn't pan out.
I remember those evening shift morons saying that it was always the boys giving him what he wanted and they would never do that. Now the fuckers are dazzling us during passdown with tales of all the things they have been trying to bribe him with.
I won't lie. I'm pretty close to being okay with telling them off. Why didn't I just do that today? And where do we find these people at? I'm starting to think that human resources scans the mall offering applications to all the little college kiddies who just can't stop spending their dads money and desperately need their own cash flow just so they can say "I have a job".
Are you fucking kidding me? Someone, anyone yell "PSYCH" right now and tell me this has all been a joke. Tell me that I'm not leaving my precious clients fate in the hands of a bunch of attention seeking idiots each day at three pm.
And tell me why in the fuck do the dumb ones always seem to outnumber me? How can there be that big of a group of morons in one work place? And how in the fuck do they all manage to be working the same shift together?
I'm pretty sure my anger is valid. Maybe not. In any case it feels better to get it out. Let's move on. When I finally wash my hands of someone's ignorance and decide I'm not going to let it affect me anymore I celebrate by writing a short poem about them. I shall now share a few of them with my loyal reader. This Emilie, is for you.
I'm a pretty ignorant person. I really am. There is so much that I can learn that I haven't and there is so much I need to learn about. Hell, I can't even speak a complete sentence out loud without sounding dumb and mixing everything up. And when it comes down to writing I don't do it that well either. So before I go on and start sounding like a judgemental asshole I just wanted to point that out. I know I'm an asshole. I know I'm judgemental. But it's not going to stop me from complaining about dumb coworkers. Shit, I'm writing to an audience of one here and she doesn't mind so why not?
It's been a rough couple days at work kids. It will be that way until after next week. I'm dealing the best I can which would be impossible without Emilie. Even my boss is starting to feel it. You know something bad is going on when your boss starts the bitch session for the day and buys you a cookie afterwards. Mmmm...cookies.
We survive. What choice is there? As far as my shift goes we are all fucked. That would be all three of us. That's three people doing the job that it normally takes six people to do. That's counting the nurse we haven't had for ages though. We make it work though. One may be suprised to hear that we make it work without bribing the clients to be good and do what they are supposed to do.
I was pretty proud of that. When our crisis staffing situation started Emilie and I talked to all the clients and told them what was going down and how it would all be played out. We made sure they knew that unlike techs of the past there would be no bribing or laziness involved on our part. They would be expected to do what they needed to do to participate in their treatment and for that we would work our asses off to make sure we are providing them with what they need while maintaining high levels of respect on both sides. It's not unrealistic. It's actually worked okay.
Well, that is if you don't count the client who's really sick and has been refusing meds. But we've been there before. We agreed that he would not recieve extra's until he started self medicating again. It's not an easy conclusion. It means we've been through a couple days of name calling and mild threats because he's not getting what he demands. But we decided to stick to the plan. This morning he took his meds so he was able to start receiving coffee again. It's a small step.
Then evening shift comes in toting gifs to bribe him into doing what they want him to. I'm not trying to be an ass here but doesn't that totally undo every fucking thing we were trying to accomplish. God damn morons. That's right, I said it. And no I don't fucking feel bad about it.
Then I hear that they spent all last night trying to bribe him with extra food to get him to do stuff. We've been here before. There was a group of boys that gave him whatever he wanted. When we don't do that he eventually becomes violent on our shift. I know. Emilie and I have dodged the plates he decided to throw when his demands didn't pan out.
I remember those evening shift morons saying that it was always the boys giving him what he wanted and they would never do that. Now the fuckers are dazzling us during passdown with tales of all the things they have been trying to bribe him with.
I won't lie. I'm pretty close to being okay with telling them off. Why didn't I just do that today? And where do we find these people at? I'm starting to think that human resources scans the mall offering applications to all the little college kiddies who just can't stop spending their dads money and desperately need their own cash flow just so they can say "I have a job".
Are you fucking kidding me? Someone, anyone yell "PSYCH" right now and tell me this has all been a joke. Tell me that I'm not leaving my precious clients fate in the hands of a bunch of attention seeking idiots each day at three pm.
And tell me why in the fuck do the dumb ones always seem to outnumber me? How can there be that big of a group of morons in one work place? And how in the fuck do they all manage to be working the same shift together?
I'm pretty sure my anger is valid. Maybe not. In any case it feels better to get it out. Let's move on. When I finally wash my hands of someone's ignorance and decide I'm not going to let it affect me anymore I celebrate by writing a short poem about them. I shall now share a few of them with my loyal reader. This Emilie, is for you.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
S.G
Fancy words don't make you cool.
Snide comments make you the fool.
Your insecurities put me at ease.
Are you really going to stop talking?
Oh please don't tease!
You bitch about everything you see.
Life really isn't as bad as you make it out to be.
Get up, grow up, move on with your life.
Laugh a little don't take everything in strife.
Here's an idea how about trying to be a little nice?
Oh wait, that's right, you don't want my advice.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
M.A.T
I see you queen bee.
Waiting for your pollin gossip at the top of the tree.
Your workers march on giving you everything you want.
Behind your back they call you a silly cunt.
You rule your sheltered world watching everyone below.
Did you ever dream you could be so low?
Don't worry little one I'll just set back and see,
The look of frustration on your face because you know you can't affect me.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
If none of those initials resemble yours than you can rest assure that I probably think a few nice things about you. As we all know. My opinion is of the upmost importance.
I do tend to write. Not a lot of people know that. I fear though most of my attempts at "poetry" only make sense to me. So I only share the silly little diddies. My other stuff is just thoughts in the forms of attempted poetry that survived some of the darker times in my life.
What's that? Now you can't sleep without hearing more? I'll tell you though I wasn't always the pleasant ball of sunshine that you know today. I'll leave you with one more. This one is from a dark time in my life. It's hard to believe that I ever thought that way but that was before I met my hero. I don't think I was every really alive before I met Mike. I seem to have grown up a lot.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Suicide
I can't take the shit that's weighing me down.
A few more days and you will read about how I drowned.
No one know's what's going on.
Move me around, I'm your can't lose pawn.
Don't think I'll do it?
It's in my head it won't go away.
I just took a wrong turn, I think I'll kill myself today.
It doesn't matter you can pretend you really knew me once I'm gone.
Wasn't she sweet?
Let's let her memory live on.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
That one kind of makes me laugh now. No kiddies, suicide is not funny. But making it to the point where you can look at those empty threats and laugh your ass off at your insanity is slightly refreshing and something to be celebrated. I'm adding a point to my self esteem stockpile for being a person with some depth.
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