Despicable Me

I am legitimately shocked and awed by how fucking awful this feels. I am living alone. I am alone and eating ramen. Depressed as hell. Be careful what you fucking wish for. It’s only Tuesday. I have only been alone since Sunday morning. Regardless, I have cried every day, starting that morning around 6:20am. I’m finally mourning. Doubly mourning. I know I have to go through this to get to the other side. Like the chicken I’ve been feeling like at work lately. The one without a head. There is so much I want to say. So much I feel I have to hide. I’m tired of hiding.  

Small details: I had planned on going to the gym after work. Instead, I made a conscious decision to allow myself to fall deeper into this sadness. I made a conscious decision to buy a bottle of Irish whiskey (it makes me feel connected to so many things). I made a conscious decision to not make real food. I say I don’t care but it’s because I do care so much that everything weighs on me so heavily. So heavily that bottle follows bottle in a futile effort to stop the pain and disappointment that I feel. Being aware of what I’m doing makes it that much more painful.

So many things are going through my head right now. Thoughts and feelings. Especially “STOP!” But not a positive stop. It’s “stop writing, stop thinking, go to the couch and turn on the tv, forget all this.” But that doesn’t stop it, only delays.

“I don’t know” and “I’m so sorry.” The two most common refrains I hear come out of my mouth or that run through my head. I wish I could say “Yes,” and “I love you” and “Help me.” “Please.” And that I could accept help. And love. It’s enough to make me turn to Jesus, I swear.

I wish I could be less stubborn. Open and gracious and forgiving instead of glancing sideways at everyone and everything offered. Yet still being taken advantage of. That I could work with instead of against. You and me.

There are so many truths about me that I find disturbing. Truths that I have trouble voicing. Truths that make me despicable. Using and abusing. I realized not long after I moved out that I am not necessarily a “good” person. I do what I need to do to survive. Yet people still call me a saint. People still want to help me. People think I am good. It’s not goodness, it’s self-preservation and idiocy. Being who I need to be to get by. Denying myself, hiding myself. Fronting.

That’s all bullshit, that last paragraph. I victimize myself and blame others for making me unhappy. Because I am unhappy and I’m too chicken-shit to do anything about it.

You don’t know what you’ve got til it’s gone.

I don’t deserve all the chances people give me. Yet I do. Because I care so much. Because I’ve been hurt so much. By other people who were hurt before me. And it goes on and on. The legacy of hurt. 

Fuck. How did I end up here?

Fear. Fear that I’ve lost another friend. Because of my fear. Because of second-guesses and outside pressure. (Incompatibility and desperation? Insecurity?)

Why can’t I just sit with myself? Why am I so afraid of myself? Because I know how despicable I am? God, that’s depressing. Because I know how much I hurt. I know how much pain is inside of me. And how much rage and anger. And that does scare me. It makes me of absolutely no use to anyone.

So here I am. Finally alone. And scared to death of what I’ll discover. Yet I know I am searching for something in others that I can only find in myself and I’m no good to anyone until I find it.



But do not ask the price I paid,
I must live with my quiet rage,
Tame the ghosts in my head,
That run wild and wish me dead.
Should you shake my ash to the wind
Lord, forget all of my sins
Or let me die where I lie
Neath the curse of my lover's eyes.

And I'll walk slow, I'll walk slow
Take my hand, help me on my way.
And I'll walk slow, I'll walk slow
Take my hand, I'll be on my way.

"I'm your secretary"

I said, "I'm still outta here, fb, but I just HAVE to get out one more rant about PITT: Srsly, Pitt, I've applied for at least 25 jobs with you over 3 years, had about 6 or 7 interviews, devotedly temp for you and you STILL insist on REJECTING me at every turn!!! WTF!!! WHAT DOES IT TAKE??? I think I'm gonna go open a vein on the steps over at Craig."

And that was how I ended my facebook dependence.

My Pitt dependence, on the other hand, continues. I received another rejection letter yesterday.

Based on the reactions to the above confession (25 applications, no acceptance), it seems that it's beyond time for me to move on.

When I share it and say it out loud, it becomes quite obvious that I'm being used.

And looking back, there's been a lot of insincerity. A lot of "we'd like to keep you, but..." Somehow I'm just not one of them so they give me their sad, puppy dog pouts and then stab me in the back.

But what the fuck do you move on to in PGH? I don't know computers, medicine, or bridge repair. Maybe CMU?

Oh, and I need to take my masters degree OFF my resume, it's holding me back. And add my work philosophy: "Point me toward the internet and leave me alone. I'll see you in 8 hours."

Snap Snap Bubble Wrap.

I mentioned in a previous post that June is the worst month of the year for me.  This past week has been the worst week of an already shit month.  Sometimes everything just seems so hard and quitting is so easy.  What makes things harder is that I can't stand it when people act like victims when they're usually just being victims of circumstances they perpetuated.  I guess what I'm saying is that I'm often guilty of this and I guess I'm feeling guilty right now.  But it's so hard to see your own life objectively.  


Speaking of seeing things objectively: I recently realized that I have a friend(s) who is(are) perpetually "playing the victim" and it's one of the most irritating things I've ever witnessed.  This person seems to purposely put their self in situations that clearly have no outcome other than a bad (or at least unprofitable) one.  It's mind-boggling. But it's also almost a certainty that this person would not listen to reason or any advice that would result in changing this pattern because I think they enjoy it.  I hope this isn't the case and it's more a matter of being conditioned to it.  Who knows.  I just know that I've learned to stay fairly detached from the drama because it's too ridiculous and as much as I hate it when people say this to me, I just wish they could "get over it."  Terrible things happen to people every day.  What matters is how you deal with it.

I can give advice like nobody's bidness but I can't take it.              


Allen said I was "fixated" last night.  Because of years of therapy, a handful of hospital stays and 3 years working in mental health, alarm bells started going off in my head.  I do get ideas in my head that just go round and round and round until everything else is blocked out and I can barely function and find it impossible to take in anything else.  And then I'm very slow-witted when my dream in life is to be charming and quick-witted.  {Insert Sarcastic Smiley Face} This week my fixations have been drinking and moving.  


So we decided to move and I got myself a drink.  


Allen and I went for a walk.  I had been on the verge of a tearful outburst all day.  We were at the soccer field/track in Schenley Park (which I didn't even know existed until a couple weeks ago) when he officially agreed to move back to Philly and I just unleashed.  I said "I feel like I've just been given permission to go home."  And then we started fighting about drinking and I turned around and we walked home in silence.  And so it goes.