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Monthly Archives: April 2014

What I Did on Thursday…Rock Bottom?

I kinda wanna write about it.

But I kinda don’t wanna write about it.

I kinda should write about it.

But I kinda shouldn’t write about it.

So, I guess, if you don’t wanna read about it, don’t read this.

If you don’t wanna report me to social services, but would feel obligated to, don’t read this.

So, I guess it’s time to tell you about it.

There were a couple factors that caused it. The first is minor.

I am sick of crying at work.

All I seem to do these days is cry. At work. Everyone at work is totally understanding about it, but it’s exhausting and embarrassing. I’m sick of caring.

The second reason is also minor.

The first reason I cried lately, was because of some chick at work. I had to pee, so I called R over to cover me, because she was the floater. She was walking up and said, “You’re lucky I’m coming over.”

I’m all, “What do you mean?”

“I don’t like you.”

I tilt my head and have her repeat herself. Now, we all joke around all the time, so I’m really confused. I had never done a thing to her, not intentionally, anyway. She borrowed my charger the day before. But as I’m in the bathroom I decide she’s being serious. So I go up to her and ask, “What’d I do?”

It was a bitch to get out of her what I did. As she walked away she said, “A couple things. Basically, you’re a bitch.”

I know this is her problem. She’s the bitch and coward for not even facing me with her problems. She’s so unimportant. But something deep inside me still cared, and was severely hurt. Because despite everything I knew for a fact, I burst into tears. I called the ASM to come talk to me before I exploded; either in sobs or screams directed at R.

But that was all minor. The real, main reason? I’ll tell you.

I have a system. I have a system for almost everything. And if you disrupt my system, I get frustrated. It’s the ADD/Aspberger’s in me. So, I have a system for closing down the registers at night. But Sunday night, I really had to pee (I have to pee a lot during work. I drink like a camel). So, in order to avoid disrupting my system, I ran to the bathroom when my system allowed some time. Literally, there was only enough time for me to go, pee, and come back. As I was walking back, Q called me over. He had to use the bathroom. So I was frustrated, and I was jokingly making a big deal out of it. But I covered him.

He left his phone at the register, and it went off. I thought, ‘it’d be really funny to answer that on him. ….No, no it wouldn’t.’ But then the manager that was there said, “Answer it!” So I thought, ‘Oh, she thinks it’ll be funny. So it must be funny.’ Besides, it wouldn’t bother me much if someone answered my phone. Esp if it was a joke/”revenge”. So I answered it. It was his gf’s sister. I told the chick the truth, I was Q’s coworker and was playing a joke on him. She told me to tell him to call her back, and we hung up.

Two days later, the day after the R incident, I found out his gf broke up with him that night. Again, tears.

The next day I had off.

The day after that, I decided I was going to stop caring about work, so that I could stop crying there. So I took a Xanax. I was OK. Q walked by and glared at me when I wasn’t looking, and I took another Xanax. Finally, we ended up at the same register. The awkwardness and guilt was too much. I couldn’t take it. So I volunteered to go to the slowest register. The one where no customers come by, and you have nothing to do but think. And think. And think.

I kinda wanted to do it.

But I kinda didn’t want to do it.

I tried to find somebody to stop me. But I couldn’t find anyone. Couldn’t think of anyone to call (not that I’d be allowed to call anyone, anyway.) So I did it.

On Thursday, April 24, 2014, I took a total of 10 Xanax and 10 Acetaminophen.

I didn’t want to die. Just wanted the attention. The pity. I wanted R and Q to feel bad for what they’d done to me. I just wanted to go to the hospital where someone would take care of me and I could get away from everything for a few days.

I didn’t feel anything happening, so I went up to Q and told him that I was suicidal because of the whole situation. He tried to save his ass by being all, “Oh, no, don’t do that. We fight like this all the time. It’s really no big deal.” No one noticed anything wrong for the rest of the work day. I only know this because I don’t remember the rest of it. I may have asked a coworker if my eyes were dilated. But I’m not sure.

Apparently, I got home safely. I guess I hung around for a while. My parents didn’t notice anything. My friend was 20 minutes late coming over, so I figured she was going to be really late. So I decided I felt like masturbating. I went up stairs, laid down, got my pants down, and the next thing I knew it was 10:30 and my mom was calling me, telling me my friend was here.

My friend, A, noticed right away. But she’s a CNA, she’s trained to. She almost took me to the hospital. But for some reason (maybe I told her no, I was fine), she decided not to. A and I went to Wegman’s and apparently I was acting kinda weird, cuz she was telling everyone that I was just a ditzy person. Then we came back and had fun.

The next morning, after A left, I decided my parents had a right to know. I had debated telling them, because I knew what they would do. But they are my parents. So I told my mom. She remained calm all day. Then my dad got home.

YOU’RE GOING TO LOSE YOUR JOB! MY CAREER IS RUINED! HE’S GOING TO LOSE HIS GUNS!

Several days of lectures and yells. Oh, and new restrictions.

My boss found out about it. Apparently idiot-ass me told a customer. But she never addressed it at work. Only on fb.

I still want the attention. I still want the pity. So I’m quietly spreading the story around at work. Even though my store is the center of rumors, my story isn’t getting around very well. Just as well, I guess.

Apparently Q and his gf got back together. He spoke to me today like nothing had happened. So, things are getting better, I guess. But the meds still need fixing. Because I kinda wanna do it again. I still wanna go to the hospital.

I went on a shopping spree yesterday. I found relaxers. Particularly, hooka sticks. They’re e-cigs with hooka instead of nicotine (right?). They’re fantastic.

No, my parents don’t know about the hooka sticks. And they aren’t going to. My counselor might. Maybe. Or not.

I’m exhausted, now. I guess it was good I wrote about it. Do you hurt yourself? What are your reasons?

 
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Posted by on April 28, 2014 in Uncategorized

 

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N for Not

My parents are Not listening.

My family does Not get it.

I will Not be able to get out of this house.

I will Not be able to own anything at all.

I am Not happy here.

My roommate does Not make enough money for us to live together.

This life is Not OK.

It canNot stay the same.

It will Not change.

 
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Posted by on April 16, 2014 in Uncategorized

 

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M is for Mother

The seed of hatred I mentioned a month or two ago? Yeah, it’s growing. I deal with parents that don’t even try to get it. I walked in the door last night, all nice a cheery. My mom asks me how my day was. I’m like, “Well, it was a bad day.” She asks why. I say, “I had a bad depression episode today.” She rolled her eyes, sighed, and walked away.

W

T

F

Who DOES that? My mother, that’s who. After we have at it for a couple minutes, I give up and go up to my room. Later, my dad tries to play peacekeeper. “You don’t know how it feels for us, with all that we do for you, and you come in and say ‘depression’.” I’m all, “So you don’t want to deal with it.” I didn’t get a clear answer. Well, I have to deal with it. I thought you were there to help, but I guess not. “I’ve had depressing situations, too. I haven’t let them get me down.” I try telling him, “But you don’t have something in your brain screwing everything up!” I told him this at least three times during the conversation. Probably more. Never got a real response out of him. They’re not even trying to get it. He’s like, “We’re paying for your meds, for your counselor, we’ve gone three times to see her.” But they haven’t learned anything. Everything the counselor says goes in one ear and out the other. They just don’t want to get it.

I need to get out of this house. Now.

 
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Posted by on April 16, 2014 in Uncategorized

 

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L is for Lost

I’m pretty lost. I don’t know what to do with myself. I feel like a failure. I’m almost 24 years old and I still work as a cashier at a silly old department store. Like, seriously? I should at least be editing, if not writing, by now. What am I doing wrong? What should I be doing? How do I do it? Where do I go? I’m so lost.

 
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Posted by on April 16, 2014 in Uncategorized

 

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J is for Jealous

I’m about to share with you a big weakness of mine. Don’t take advantage of it, please. You ready?

I get so jealous. All the time. It’s disgusting. It happens almost every day. When I sell credit cards and people have normal annual incomes. It’s all, “oh, well isn’t that nice for you? I’m just Ms. Nobody here making nothing. I can’t even afford an apartment.” Like, seriously? It’s so childish.

My jealousy can get really, really bad. I have a really good friend. She’s got so much going for her in the writing world, and I’m almost too jealous of her to be happy for her. Once, when I heard something happening to her, I almost cried. Why can’t that happen to me? Even trying to remind myself that her father is in a coma doesn’t relieve the jealousy.

Don’t worry, I have the counselor helping me work through it.

Do you get jealous? Do you feel like a little child wanting a lollipop? I do. What’s your biggest weakness?

 
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Posted by on April 14, 2014 in Uncategorized

 

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K is for Kindness

I know, I’m late again. I forgot to type it all up after I wrote it all out. Anyways, here’s K’s entry.

So, when people are mean to you, it’s commonly said that the way to deal with it is to kill them with kindness. I have tried. But I simply can’t do it.

I’m a kind person. I care about you. I’ll take care of you. But you give me attitude? Nuh-uh. I don’t deal with that. I may not be mean to your face, but I will certainly begin to ignore you. Not look at you. Etc. Oh, you want coupons? Nope. You were a bitch. You wanna save $25 and get our credit cards? Nuh-uh.

I’m so kind it’s sickening. I’m considering going to work on my day off and missing most of a convention because my boss needs me. Who does that!? I’m thinking of continuing to work there when I move to the lake, despite the gas, just because my boss doesn’t want me to leave. Even though they write you up for being sick.

Yeah.

I’ll give friends rides for free. A couch. Food. I’ll take on more of the rent (but I’ll take the master). I’ll give a stranger my time just because they asked for it. I’ll give you my ear. Go on, tell me about it. It could be easy to take advantage of me. Probably.

Kindness is a virtue. Do you have it?

 
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Posted by on April 14, 2014 in Uncategorized

 

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J is for Job

I hate my job.

OK, I don’t hate my job that much.

But I hate my job.

They treat me well. Mostly. They understand that I have depression. That sometimes I just need to cry before I can function. I get pretty much all the days off I ask for. My bosses are fun and funny and easy-going. My environment is as positive as a retail environment can be.

But it’s retail, for one. It’s not for me. It’s my Just Over Broke occupation. It’s not my career. But I feel like I’ll be stuck there forever. There, where they write you up for being sick. Where they pressure and pressure and pressure you to get credits and shops, etc. Where the store manager always seems to be yelling at or talking about you. I can’t deal with that thought. I don’t want to be a cashier all my life.

 
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Posted by on April 11, 2014 in Uncategorized

 

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Ask Not What Your Country Can Do for You

In college, we read a book (well, a couple books) about a boy with autism. This one was called The Curious Case of the Dog in the Nighttime. I think. We were discussing it in class, and I made the mistake of expressing my honest opinion.

We were talking about his quirks and how they affected his daily life. The specifics that I remember are as follows: he didn’t like a certain color (yellow? Red?). So when he saw cars that color on the way to school, it was going to be a bad day. I also remember that he avoided touching the part of the train(?) ticket that was that color. This struck me differently than it struck everyone else. I said something like, “He needs to grow up and deal with these things. He can’t let those little things dictate his day or how he holds something. He can’t them affect him so much.”

Hate me yet? Hear me out.

Naturally, I was shot down. And I began to consider things a lot harder. But in the end, I have realized that I’m pretty much right. At least mostly.

Hear me out. As one with her own issues with mild autism and major ADD, I don’t expect the world to change for me just because I have these disabilities. I don’t expect people to understand or care. Part of being an adult, being a part of a group of people, is realizing that you’re not special. And I don’t mean that in a mean way. You are unique. People do love you for your uniqueness. But you can’t expect the world to cater to your disability. It’s great when it does, but you have to be able to deal when it doesn’t. Because nine times out of ten, it won’t. Especially for those “invisible” disabilities like ours. And why should it? How could it? Everyone is unique with unique needs. Life isn’t about making the world better for you. It’s like what JFK said. “Ask not what your country can do for you, but what you can do for your country.”

I was raised being taught that I had to fight through my struggles to be, well, “normal.” Not necessarily conformed, but able to function in a world that doesn’t care about my disability (we only knew of one when I was growing up). A world that may or may not see me as my disability. A world that only sees and cares about what I bring to the table.

Life is about fighting through your issues, or maybe working with them, to bring something great and unique to the table.

I have specific examples. Remember how the character in the book didn’t like the certain color? And how he avoided touching that color on his ticket? I can relate, sorta. I never told anyone this until recently, but I have an issue with something happening to one side of my body and not the other. If I stomp my left foot, I have to stomp my right foot with exactly the same force. Otherwise I’ll just go crazy. But I never told anyone about it. I just dealt with it. I deal with it. And now that I’m growing up and realizing how unimportant that is, I’m making myself deal with one side being different from the other sometimes. That’s what I meant about the character growing up and dealing with it. Don’t let it affect you. Not even worth mentioning in even the most intimate conversations.

My personal issues with my body are so very unimportant. What is important? What I can give in spite of that. I don’t like my body being asymmetrical. But I’m over it enough that I’m able to type this out and share my thoughts with you all without worrying about the symmetry of my fingers.

I’m super-sensitive to touch. I can tell the softest spots of animals’ fur (their heads). And I -love- rolling on the ground petting my dog. I can give him the kind of attention and affection no one else can. If my hands are too try or even pruny, I can’t even touch soft things. It drives me nuts. And I can’t stand having sticky fingers.

I’m super-sensitive to taste. I can taste pretty much all the ingredients in a dish. I even taste the salt in chocolate chip cookies sometimes.

Life is about using these things to my advantage. And dealing with them when I can’t. Yes, I do cater to my issues sometimes. I put on moisturizer so I can touch things after showering. I do wash my hands when they’re sticky. But it’s really not as big a deal as it was made to be in the book. And it shouldn’t be. Because those things aren’t what’s important. What’s important is what I can do with or in spite of these issues. I don’t expect, or even want, the world to supply me with moisturizer for free or make a syrup that isn’t sticky for me. I want to give the world my ability to think about things almost too much. I want to give my experiences to teach others what I’m going through in life.

 
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Posted by on April 10, 2014 in Uncategorized

 

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I is for Imagination

My imagination is so vivid I sometimes have a hard time getting to sleep at night. I certainly have a hard time sleeping when I’m alone in the house and/or in an unfamiliar environment. If I imagine something, it’s almost as if it’s actually happening. I can feel the ghost blowing cold air on me. Can smell the odor of the slime monster under the bed.

I focus really hard on my imaginings. I have to have every detail in place–which isn’t hard to do. Just takes concentration. But I don’t always have to have every detail. Lots of times I daydream while driving and, though unsafe, has never interfered with my driving. I can daydream at work where nothing’s going on and I’m all alone.

I need to daydream in order to sleep. But it can’t be anything too exciting or depression, otherwise I’ll never get any sleep! Do you have a vivid imagination, too?

 
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Posted by on April 10, 2014 in Uncategorized

 

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H is for House

This is more an update on the house (cottage) I’m potentially going to share with my friend. But it fits. I finally talked to my parents seriously about it. I was dreading it, because I knew they didn’t like the idea. My counselor suggested a two-week trial period. So my parents want us to do that, if my friend’s aunt and uncle (who own the cottage) say “yes.”

But omg I’m soooooooooo excited. I can’t contain it! I even have a sheltie puppy lined up for when I do get my own place! A sheltie is a lassie dog but lap-sized :D. And super-energetic. I’m hoping the more-energetic dog plus whatever my doc ends up giving me will help me be more active. Especially at the cottage. There’s a lot of woods to explore with the dog. The dog will also be our security system. With its tendency to bark, the sheltie is perfect to be alerted of strangers coming around in the night. And deer XP.

I’m so happy right now. I can’t wait! I really, really hope we get it! If you pray, please put me in your prayers? I need to get out of my parents’ house!

 
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Posted by on April 10, 2014 in Uncategorized

 

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