I See the Edge
I think I'm on the verge of another nervous breakdown. I've had so many, though, I can't really tell if this is a new one or the final bitter dregs of the last. When I was a kid, I always knew I'd come to this point in life eventually. All adults do, ya? Didn't think I'd make it here so soon, though. I wonder... If you check yourself into a mental health institution, do you still have to pay taxes?

I need therapy. My life has jumped its tracks, reeled completely off its axis, and I've run out of ideas on how to stop it.

I See the Edge
I think I'm on the verge of another nervous breakdown. I've had so many, though, I can't really tell if this is a new one or the final bitter dregs of the last. When I was a kid, I always knew I'd come to this point in life eventually. All adults do, ya? Didn't think I'd make it here sooo soon, though. I wonder... If you check yourself into a mental health institution, do you still have to pay taxes?

I need therapy. My life has jumped its tracks, reeked completely off its axis, and I've run out of ideas on how to stop it.

Mississippi Personhood Amendment
Originally posted by kazbaby at Mississippi Personhood Amendment
Originally posted by gabrielleabelle at Mississippi Personhood Amendment
Okay, so I don't usually do this, but this is an issue near and dear to me and this is getting very little no attention in the mainstream media.

Mississippi is voting on November 8th on whether to pass Amendment 26, the "Personhood Amendment". This amendment would grant fertilized eggs and fetuses personhood status.

Putting aside the contentious issue of abortion, this would effectively outlaw birth control and criminalize women who have miscarriages. This is not a good thing.

Jackson Women's Health Organization is the only place women can get abortions in the entire state, and they are trying to launch a grassroots movement against this amendment. This doesn't just apply to Mississippi, though, as Personhood USA, the group that introduced this amendment, is trying to introduce identical amendments in all 50 states.

What's more, in Mississippi, this amendment is expected to pass. It even has Mississippi Democrats, including the Attorney General, Jim Hood, backing it.

The reason I'm posting this here is because I made a meager donation to the Jackson Women's Health Organization this morning, and I received a personal email back hours later - on a Sunday - thanking me and noting that I'm one of the first "outside" people to contribute.

So if you sometimes pass on political action because you figure that enough other people will do something to make a difference, make an exception on this one. My RSS reader is near silent on this amendment. I only found out about it through a feminist blog. The mainstream media is not reporting on it.

If there is ever a time to donate or send a letter in protest, this would be it.

What to do?

- Read up on it. Wake Up, Mississippi is the home of the grassroots effort to fight this amendment. Daily Kos also has a thorough story on it.

- If you can afford it, you can donate at the site's link.

- You can contact the Democratic National Committee to see why more of our representatives aren't speaking out against this.

- Like this Facebook page to help spread awareness.

Originally posted here. Feel free to comment there using OpenID if you don't have an account.|comment count unavailable comments

(no subject)
My family is so fucking stupid.

Larry buys a dinner for three of us. When we get back to the house we find that my sandwich is totally wrong. Does anyone say, "OMG, so sorry for you! Maybe I messed up the order! They must've made a mistake! Here, have some of mine..."? No. Not a single goddamn person offers ANY compassion, or food.

Instead my mom says that if I'm not going to eat it, I need to pay Larry back. Okay, that's somewhat understandable. The man shelled out cash for my food, and if I'm going to "waste" it, then I should at least pay him back for it.

Unfortunately, I only have $2 to my name at the moment. So I leave the $2 on the table next to my sandwich, and retire to my room--sad, and still very hungry--hoping that my mom will convey the appropriate message.

She doesn't.

In fact, the next day, she's up and yelling at me about how my compensation wasn't worth anything. I'm sorry, but did I miss the memo where a person is SUPPOSED to pay someone back for buying them a meal out of the goodness of their hearts?

Had the sandwich been fine, and had I eaten it, everything would have been perfectly okay. From the moment Larry generously offered to pay for the entire family's meal, he was forfeiting all rights to recompense. 

Moreover, the fact that I gave him both the sandwich and the money means that he gets the value of the sandwich in ADDITION to the value of the $2. That's a whole meal and $2 more than what he was expecting to get that night!

Not to mention, had I known what a huge fiasco this would have turned out to be, I would have just shoved the sandwich in my bag, said I have to go finish homework, hidden in my room, and then invited my dog upstairs to finish the disgusting thing off later! No one would have known, they would have all thought I'd eaten it, and no stupid money would have ever been exchanged or people's feelings gotten slighted.

God! Some people are so FUCKING stupid! Can't he see this is a win for him? He got my last cash AND my fucking meal, and I went to bed hungry. I didn't choke his precious dogs on the stupid human food, and I didn't leave it in my room to rot. Better yet, I didn't try to eat it, and subsequently didn't throw up all over the beautiful kitchen table that he probably thinks he by now has some kind of stake on.

Stupid mothers' boyfriends showing up and thinking they own the place. Stepping in like they should take over the roles of gone fathers. Does he not know what I did to the last one? Does he not understand how deep my hate GOES for fucking father figures??? Mom's really terrible at passing along these memo things, apparently.

She absolutely sucks at it. I miss the time when I used to think she was smart.

Or maybe I just miss the time when she acted her age and actually employed her hard-earned wisdom.

(no subject)
I always thought we had this tight little family--that my brother and I were identical in every way, down from what the baby pictures showed to how we reacted to different ideas and situations. And I was always sure that my mom was my best friend in the world, the one person I could turn to consistently without ever having to wonder if she'd be there, what she'd say or think or do...

Well, my little brother and I are still tight (though I can imagine that by the time he turns 13, things won't continue on in the same vein as they have been...), but my mom... seems much more distant.

In the car on the way to the train station, on an innocuous Tuesday like any other, she tells me her life insurance policy, 401k, and everything else valuable are now in my name. She just throws the info out there like it's nothing. Less than 5 minutes later, we're at the station, and I get out, no response given yet to the new knowledge learned. Because I'm slow like that, and God help me, I like to digest things.

Afterward, on all our morning and sometimes evening rides together, she never mentions it again--not the surgery, not the life insurance, not the fact that if she dies, I'll probably never see Johnny again before he reaches adulthood, which means a solid decade of having no brother. (Thirteen years I pray for a sibling, 8 years I get to have one, and now I'm looking at 10 years as an only child AND an orphan? Wow.) I think she thinks that I'm absolutely okay with everything because I'm not mentioning it. But this is the mom to whom I never mentioned ANY of the bad stuff when I was growing up. You would think after all the stuff she knew I went through with the dad, and the fact that we never actually discussed ANY of it...she'd know by now how I dealt with heavy family situations...

On top of not elaborating on that disturbing conversation, she also doesn't want to hang out with me. She tells me she's going to die and then doesn't want to hang out! All I want to do is by with my mom, my best friend, and she's not letting me talk about anything. Just spends time laughing with her boyfriend.

And after seeing her being so miserable with dad for so long, how could I ever get in the way of her laughing with her new guy? She so deserves it. This is what I fought to give her. This is, quite simply, the reason I forced my only father out of our lives. 

So that she could be happy. (No more running away from home, no more three day trips to hotels on the beach, abandoning family and friends for a weekend alone with God knows how much wine, tears and ocean...)

Uncle Chris comes from OK. Uncle Chris of the poor, the impoverished, the family members who never made it out of the hood--he flies out to be with his sister, my mom, on the eve of her surgery. Stays until 4 days after it's finished. I drive him around, act cordial, prove my adult-ness and my responsible-ness--and why not? I've always loved uncle Chris, seen him as a father-figure to respect and look up to. Then he tells me that I'm not doing nearly enough to help my mother.

And it's like my friend said when she heard: "You're taking four classes at college, you have four jobs you work for, you run your own small business, AND you raise your little brother. WHAT MORE CAN YOU DO?"

I try to explain it to her in the terms that I think my uncle is perceiving it--families along the bible belt help each other out, they know how to sacrifice.... I don't feel like I'm sacrificing right now, but I also don't think I can sacrifice anything if I had to.

What would I have to sacrifice?

Not my social life--I don't have one. I work all day, come home, eat, drink and do homework/leftover work from the company/billing for my business, etc.

Not my dreams--those crashed and burned the minute I learned...what? That my dad hated me? Not just didn't love me, but despised me? So much that he never wanted to see me again? (And we never have...) So much that we never spoke after my senior year, even while living in the same house? (Driving in the same car...) Or how about when Dean Art told me I couldn't finish college? How about that day in freshmen year when I got that call from mom saying dad had been served? How about the time I lived on my own in Chicago, on the handouts of my employer, and cried myself to sleep every night because I didn't have enough money for a plane ticket home, back to Johnny?
What about that time in 6th grade when I first failed at suicide? (What about all those little tests that came later?)

Not my material possessions--the most valuable thing I have are my books, and we tried selling those once. No one wants them.

I don't know what I can sacrifice in order to do more.

And uncle Chris never told me. Just gave me the speech that I'm a failure.

Everyone thinks I'm a failure.

Like I don't know. Seriously? I didn't graduate college. It should have been a sure thing. I shouldn't have fucked around so much. And sure, you say, "Dude, you only had 2 years there, 2 years and a quarter, MAYBE." But I say, "Dad could have done it. If dad had known he needed to--and Dad wouldn't have been scared to ask about the financial situation of his family, he probably would have managed the freaking situation himself ten years BEFORE he went to university--he would have made it happen. With Honors. And accolades. And a bazillionjillion job offers post-graduation." Instead I'm here, doing nothing, killing myself for no good, working down to the bone, to the wire, for people who...care less than me, but will make more money in the long-run.

I have nothing to offer.

Uncle Chris saw that, and that's why he didn't offer any solutions. He just saw a big, fat failure, and shook his head at the deplorable state our portion of the family had fallen into. Then left on a plane. Another father-figure I'll never see again, who left before I could say sorry and make them understand how much I really meant it. 

I'm soooo sorry I'm so awful. I'd end it if I thought it would fix anything, but every single time I weigh the options, there's always that one alternative that has slightly better marginal costs, that doesn't end with mom being sad again.

And that brings us full circle, I think. Mom. I do everything I can for her, everything I can for this FAMILY. Our tiny family--three people, one dog, and that's how I like it. We're tight, we're supposed to be together. But she just wants to hang out with her boyfriend. Does she notice that we're splitting into our separate spheres of the house like before? Like when dad was here and no one went downstairs unless they had to after 6PM when he came home? Sure, we're not being forced to stay apart....but it's only a matter of time before distance becomes convention, and togetherness, a break in tradition.... and family... a transgression...against safe, safe normalcy.

And I wouldn't want to disturb mom's safe normalcy. Then she might be unhappy.

God, I can't live with both parents hating me.

(no subject)
Dylan dancing with me was like Ted getting a pity-fuck. I just now realized that.


Today I slammed out of the house, my uncle in mid-sentence, just finishing up a threat. I was so angry. I couldn't figure out why, though, until I got to the office. His threatening tone was the same tone my dad had used against me in our last argument ever. How dare people think they can still treat me this way... They have no idea what I've done to put that part of my life behind me.

Reminders of why you shouldn't reminesce
It was the strangest thing: in one moment, I was nonchalantly watching Johnny slip through the door at our uncle's request, and the next second my mind was flaring up with all these images of what-could-be and what-shouldn't-ever-happen that were possibly taking place in that room right then! I practically ran to the door, knocking once and then letting myself in. It wasn't until my eyes had darted back and forth between them about three times that I realized I was checking for seriously inappropriate behavior ...and touching....that I forced myself to stop.

Searching for "You Can't Fix This" by Writeatmidnight
Hey everyone,

My friend just recced this story to me and I'm dying to read it, only apparently the author took down all her RPF THIS MORNING, lol. So if anyone has a copy of this or knows where I can find one, I'd be much appreciative.


Thoughts on Today

Thoughts on Today

I'm writing this down because I don't want to forget the things I think. That happens too often. I can't remember most of my childhood because of that....but that's a different story  I'm sure I'll get to later....

- - -

Today was great--or at least it's going wonderfully. I got paid $12/hr for doing almost absolutely nothing--or, well, things I'm totally adept at doing thanks to my many years in the volunteer service and my hours upon hours worked in the sales industry--not to mention the millions of eons it feels like I've spent behind a desk in a classroom. I met a lot of nice people--Ling, Allison, Courtney, Mr. Conners--most of whom I'll probably never talk to again, if I'm to be at all honest, but at least they were cool, and really added to my perception of the world.
Witnessed firsthand the sight of a master orator at work, all from the top balcony in one of the most notorious college auditoriums known throughout the academic world. The view of the second floor of Mandel itself was breathtaking (I'd never been, never even imagined I'd ever get the chance), but the voice--and the language!--of Mr. Wellbury absolutely stole away my senses....practically even eloped with them.
It was amazing....

- - -

My dad didn't dislodge the eyes. All that turmoil in the family--all the fights, the wars, the screaming, the silent battles and the subtle mindfucks, the covert terrorist games we played against one another--and he never moved the eyes. They were sitting atop the paper towels, and the paper towels were the kind you slide down on a vertical rod and twirl around until you have, in your hand, the length of soft sheet you desire. You know he had to have used them at some point. The eyes were sitting there for a while (two, maybe three weeks even), and yet....he never let them fall.
Am I reading too much into this?
This was three years ago. I can't even remember when the hatred started, when we really stopped being father and daughter. I think the eyes came into being well after he said his first "I never loved you"--yes, I was definitely in college when I drew them--but not before my second summer back in San Diego...
That means they were there when he was there, when he was still living in our house, when Johnny was too young to reach the countertops and when my mom was still trying to valiantly stick with the legal procedure and hold things together at home...at least in the eyes of her younger child.
Maybe mom just kept putting them back up.
That would be so like her--ignore the carelessness of my dad and fix what he'd broken, especially if it was Jassy's. I can see her doing that, very easily in fact.
But I don't want to. No. No, it would just be so nice to imagine that....my dad actually cared. Actually, maybe, felt a little bad when one of the small squares of paper--two square-inch pieces of notebook paper with wide knowing eyes etched on them, well-shaded with pencil (not "shaded well"--i'm not *that* pretentious)--fluttered to the floor...and he picked it back up with his meaty fingers and placed it gently on top....
I hope he misses me. Sometimes I miss him so much and it's just so wrong. People shouldn't miss people like him.
You shouldn't miss the person who's still making Hell for your mother. Who might abduct your brother and flee to a foreign country any day now. Who never lived up to his promises to you, or who disowned you, or who is still to this day using you as an excuse to get money...
I miss my dad so much!
I hate myself.

- - -

I really want to talk to Johnny but he's only seven. It's not like he doesn't understand what's going on in our house--even he can see we're most definitely fallen apart--but ....to discuss the things I have weighing on my heart most would mean teaching him first about the basis of my issues....
And that would involve a conversation about sex, betrayal, the weird, often indiscernible lines between friendship/fathers/and lovers....
No, he will remain innocent. One of has to, past the age of 15...

- - -

My dad choked me to the point where I could only see black when I was 15. Johnny cried, cops came, we all hid in the closet--the dog too--but the door got threatened (the cops said they were going to break it down and come in and find us), and my dad hauled me out, made me put on a hoodie, and made me swear I wouldn't tell.
We went downstairs, my dad holding my arm tight at the elbow and the police standing in the doorframe, under the light. Johnny was still crying, though it seems now like it was soft, in the background. I told them some made up story about fake threats, irrational fear. They filed a report of false-call...
Dad cried afterwards, said he was so sorry. Don't say that I should have read up on abuser behavior--I already knew all about it. I'd researched that stuff long ago when my counselors first started asking me if there were problems going on in my household: I knew what he was doing....
Why didn't I ever stop him? Why didn't I ever stop?

- - -

Sometimes I miss seeing the red rivets trickle down my arm, the tingly way the dots felt as the rolled across my skin, every breath hitching in my throat as I savored the exquisite feeling of them hitting different hairs, one...by...one... and making me feel at peace, zen.

- - -

I need drugs. Like truly, legitly need drugs. I want painkillers and sleeping pills, focus drugs and adrenaline hypes. There's school to deal with....and then there's the future. There's my mind...and then there's my persona, which I am slowly but surely losing control over....
I've been crazy like this before. And I know from here it can definitely get worse. This justification is not enough to demand drugs. It's the fact that not only do I recognize this state, but I can also see the factors in my life that will inevitably lead to my degeneration again...
And I'll throw myself out of the car, on the highway, in the middle of the night...

- - -

Next week I'm going to a concert with my friend (I think, not totally sure he's coming). I'm going to have a great time, and hopefully I'll get really drunk and go home with some guy, or a few guys, or some guys and some gurls, and I'll get fucked. Hard. Messily. Crazy-psychotically, and for the first time. Completely cherry going wrong, very wrong, black, debauched plum. Finally. I'm so tired of being tainted, maiden and lonely...

- - -

I wanna die in a blaze of glory.
But I also wanna die skinny.
That means that I won't die for quite a while cuz working off all this fat is gonna take me ages....
And so I'll never die in a blaze of glory, cuz only the young do that. Damn.

- - -

Sometimes I think I laugh too loudly (haha, yeah, I know, you're probably saying, "Holy fuck, you laugh at all??" after reading all this shit (and by the way, thank you for making it this far if you have! I'm....completely overwhelmed, lol)), but it makes me smile afterwards even when I do. People turn away pretending the moment didn't happen, but I just inwardly roll my eyes and inwardly smile and think to myself that if that's what makes them embarrassed, then boy!--thank god they don't live my life.

- - -

Met an awesome guy tonight at the Halloween festival. Name was Wesley, was a college-aged kid--but wasn't going to college. Was going to South Africa, to help MTV film a new documentary on the preparations for the world cup that's going to be held there. He's going to go to college in April, beginning his secondary education career in what I think is a kickass way by jumping in at the best quarter (Spring, of course). He wants to be a film director. Jeez. I really hope he makes it.

- - -

Is that all I want to remember from tonight? Well, no, but...the rest can wait for another day. I should....go to sleep, maybe. I've only had about 4 hours of rest over the course of the past two days. I'm sorry if there were any typos in this post: next time I'll do my best to do better.
And some day in the future....I'll be back again.

Thanks. :)


Log in

No account? Create an account