I Need to Be Fixed

We’re fighting fleas again and still.

I’m feeling trapped as I’ve felt most of my life.

The fleas and smell of the landlady’s heavy cigarette smoking habit

are triggers for the way I’m feeling

Triggers, they make it next to impossible to get a foothold.

But I’ve always felt trapped.

Trapped in my life

Trapped with my family

Now trapped in this hole of an apartment.

Even trapped with Mr. B.

Trapped in my body

Trapped in my mind

Today I did it again.

I felt unheard and was already overwhelmed

The fleas and mix-up in communication

A common occurrence between Mr. B and me.

I feel unheard and

I wound up in yet another tantrum/meltdown.

Not as bad as the one before, but still

It happened.

I’m angry. I feel helpless and hopeless.

I slammed a bunch of stuff

Resulting in more yelling, scaring the cat just with the volume.

Threw a spray bottle and it spilled all over the carpet

and I did not give any fucks.

I picked up the bottle and left the puddle in the rug.

Found the spray bottle nozzle broken.

The closeness of the two events does not escape me.

I want to stop but I truly feel I can’t control it.

I become Hyde with no warning.

I don’t want to live like this anymore.

I need help…REAL help

Not the bullshit therapists who claim to know but don’t

But it’s not FOR me.

I’m too poor

I’m not in the right place.

I’m not lucky enough

I would give up every single material belonging

to be rid of this.

I research and find others getting well,

Others are healing

With cutting edge shit

But do I have access

Nope.

I don’t begrudge anyone for having this happen for them. But I do begrudge that it isn’t readily and easily available to others who NEED it years ago!

The next and only clinical study I’ve found that will happen next is in England.

The two previously happened right here in the U.S… but as usual I am a few years late and many dollars short.

Story of my miserable fuckin’ life.

And if it gets approved after this next study, legalization will take effect by 2021!!!!

I don’t know about you, but I’d like to find myself out of hell before that.

Oh and let’s not forget that even when it’s legal you’ll need access to a therapist who not only uses it but knows HOW to.

Sorry but I just don’t have that much faith in the world of therapy at large.

It’s up to me and leaving the planet is looking better and better every day.

I won’t be doing anything though. No plan. I will stay alive, even though I feel dead inside.

But I’m not going to be here on wordpress for at least the rest of the day.

I need a solution. I’m not sure blogging is it…I’m not sure of anything except the fact shit needs to change.

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The Rage is Real…And Exhausting

I’m really worried about myself and I don’t know what to do. I have so much rage that at some point it’s going to kill me.

Today I went out and, well, first of all I feel terrible anyway. I am tired, fatigued, I’ve gotten so fat in the last few years, I am just not the same person since my family ganged up on me in 2013.

Now that’s not to say that was the cause of all of this. I had rage already and since I’d still not recovered from a break up from a really toxic affair the year before I was already weak and ripe for their pickins.

HOWEVER: That second part being said, about the break up, I was angry long before I met him the first time back in 1995. (Long story, but I had two affairs with the same man. He was married to a different woman each time.) I just want to clarify that the affairs with him, or any other relationship with a man I’ve had, were the cause of such anger. It was caused by the shitty environment and treatment of the adults around me while I was growing up.

So now that we have that out of the way…

I have to figure something out or I don’t think it’s worth staying here.

So back to my outing today:
I want to start at the end though because that’s where the alarming behavior comes in.
I was driving through a school  zone where the lights were flashing to go 15. So I was going 15. I gradually slow down as I come to a school zone so I don’t have to stop or slow too fast. But I swear every fucking time, I end up with an asshole behind me who wants to be in my trunk.

This pisses me off I think more than anything else than I can think of.  But also I’ve noticed the last couple times I’ve raged at/about the incident, there was a build up of other stuff before hand. However, I will say that tailgaters piss me off even if they’re the first stressful thing I come across in the day.  That other stuff though, isn’t anything serious or unusual, it’s like I stopped being able to be out in the world.

Here’s my day:
I went to get my address changed on my license and found out that the area where I have to change that info was not open. So it was a wasted trip. First annoyance. I was counting on getting this one productive thing finally done today. Irritated, but still pleasant to the picture taker people who were there today, it was so forced. The last thing I wanted to be was nice.

So driving away from there I was thinking, “Now what should I do? I’m out, I might as well get something else done.  I know, I’ll stop at the supermarket.” But after being in that parking lot for a little while, I changed my mind and decided to go to another supermarket. Same chain, just a different location.

This other location has a dollar store near it so I went in to get some sunglasses. The sunglasses rack is in a bit of an inconvenient spot near the register and I kept having to move for people wanting to walk down the aisle since there isn’t enough room for two people to pass.  This got annoying.

It didn’t take long to pick out a pair of sunglasses though, because the choices were limited. But then I got in line and the lady behind me wants to be on my heels…or maybe in my butt. I’m not sure. It was getting on my last nerve though.

I can’t stand this. I have asked people to back up in the past and I’ve had mixed reactions. But today I said nothing to this woman.

Once, a woman was standing so close to me in a line that when I went to reach into my pocket, I elbowed her. And then she gave me a dirty look.

“Don’t stand so close and you won’t get an elbow in the rib.” If someone can elbow you while you are standing behind them, it’s a really good indication that you’re too close. Ever hear of personal space?

OK, reel it in, back to today: I get inside the supermarket and it was kind of crowded but not too bad. I was thankful to just be walking inside and not going to the register because there was a very wound up little child running around the register area and I would not have tolerated that very well.

I did notice an old man standing in that same line while that child ran around making all kinds of noise. And he was quite amused with a big grin on his face, which made me smile. It was good to see an elderly man who wasn’t miserable…like my father would have been in that same scenario. And now it looks as though I’m headed in that direction too. 😦

In the produce section, I picked up a couple things and would’ve considered some spring mix in a box if they hadn’t all gone bad. Every single container, the greens were swimming in a swamp. I was disgusted that these would even still be out on display.

At the back of the store, I get this guy behind me and I can hear him back there following rather close behind me and he’s walking at a quick pace…until I stop at the plant milks and he passes me.  Argh! I wanted to trip him.

Over a bit more toward the back corner, I find that the butter I buy went up in price and I’m agitated that I need some before I’m able to get to Whole Foods otherwise I’d wait because it’s cheaper there. I know…it was weird to me too.

Around past the bathrooms, and a woman was exiting the bathroom area with a couple kids and a big cart. So I go slow to navigate and not hit the kids with my cart. And that agitated me because a couple times I thought the one kid who had her back to me would dance out to the middle of the aisle and I’d have to swerve to miss her. Grr.

C’mon mom! Teach your brats how to behave in public. I have no problem with a child dancing around, but when a person with a cart is approaching, that’s when a parent or (the adult with the child) needs to say something like, “Let the lady pass and then you can continue to dance in the aisle.”

Newsflash rude and neglectful adults with kids: It’s your fucking responsibility to teach your kids how to be considerate to others. They don’t just automatically know. And if you weren’t taught, go fucking learn or don’t have offspring to perpetuate the fucking problem.

I got around to the registers and I pick a line and wait my turn. The cashier says to the guy in front of me that she hasn’t had a chance to put her name tag on yet. And I immediately think, “Who gives a fuck?”

OK now I know my mood, which wasn’t this bad when I left the apartment was way in the negative numbers at this point. And it didn’t take long to get there.

The guy though, he was friendly and laughed and said something I couldn’t quite make out. And even that annoyed me. I wanted to smack the grin off his face. And he didn’t even do anything. It was all the stress, rudeness, inconsideration and tailgating that accumulated, that I had no tolerance for anything or anyone.

So then it was my turn. I brought my own bags. There was only a little spot to put the stuff down on after she’s done ringing up each item and she’s not bagging anything. So I do it, while she asks me about the Kombucha I’m buying. “Is it good?” “Is it healthy?” “What’s it taste like?” “Is it something new?”

Not only am I trying to keep track of my groceries and get them bagged, but  I’m also preoccupied with the Access card I have to hand her once she’s done ringing shit up and stops flapping her jaw.

Once she has the card in hand, because it doesn’t scan anymore, it takes the register what seems like a lifetime to, well, register it, while the line gets even longer.

Every time I go to the grocery store I get anxious because I’ve had so many incidents where the cashier is clueless and takes two lifetimes to figure out how to use the card to ring up my order. Supervisors have been called over five times before the thing gets sorted out. Twice I had to go to customer service because the register registered payment even though I didn’t pay. So I had to wait in two lines! Yeah, that was fun.

I’m always projecting impatience and anger from the people behind me and then I try to tell myself that it’s their problem if they get pissed off and impatient, but it doesn’t stave off the anxiety.

This time wasn’t too bad, it was just the computer system being slow and not the cashier.

I returned to my car, feeling tired and looking forward to getting home. It’s pretty much a straight line home, but  it is rare that I don’t have a tailgater on this route.

There is a school zone on the road where they gravitate to me and today was no different.

As soon as I saw her, I started yelling, “It’s 15, I’m not going any faster.” “Back off.” “Why ya gotta tailgate? It’s a school zone?”

I slammed the brakes a couple times to send her a message and cursed her a lot more than that. And wow, was I raging.  There’s a chance to speed up for a while after that school zone, but then there’s a light and immediately after the light there’s another 15 MPH area and a stop sign at every corner through this one neighborhood.  And she was behind me for every single one of them.

She honked at me when she turned off but I didn’t even realize it was her, or that she was probably trying to get my attention until I was another block away.

Duh, I’m sure she had a finger to show me. Just as well I missed it. But then after all that raging I was exhausted anyway. My whole body tenses when I do that and it takes a lot out of me now. I also get heart palpitations when it’s all over.

I’m truly concerned. Things are getting worse for me and I feel like what I’m doing to improve isn’t going fast enough. I feel hopeless right now. And I’m not even angry at myself anymore for reacting that way, especially since it didn’t really effect her much. I know this is coming from somewhere deep. If I’m angry at anyone it’s my family.

I do think this is a boundary trigger for me. My parents, all my life never allowed me boundaries. I won’t go into them specifically here, I’ve written about them before. And it’s not just my parents but my siblings too. Yes, when we were kids they intruded on me but even that doesn’t bother me right now as much as what happened in 2013 when my father was ill.

They fucked with me so much that my mind twisted my subconscious into thinking of my siblings as my parents.

I’ve caught myself verbally referring to them as my parents after thinking about them or even when just thinking about them to myself.

It happens with them separately too. Sometimes when I’m thinking of my brother, my mind will call him my father and my mind interchanges my mother and sister too, even to the point that my mind has referred to my mom as my sister.

It’s fucking twisted. What the fuck am I going to do?
I also think there’s a feeling of entrapment that keeps me raging as well. I’m trapped in a position in life that I never wanted. I have not been able to be my true authentic self and maybe subconsciously I feel like if I had been able to evolve and grow into my true authentic self I would not be in such a position or this lousy narcissistic town to even be tailgated.

I don’t know. From where I’m sitting, the whole family did  some intense damage.

More Than Just Sibling Rivalry

In my last post I wrote of an example of the lack of my own privacy as a teen. But that stage was set long before that. It can be asked “Why would a small child, prior to the age of 12 really need privacy?” But privacy isn’t just a matter of someone knocking before opening a bedroom door.

My brother and sister started young, taking the liberty entering my bedroom whenever I wasn’t home.

My Brother

When he was a bit older,  (this started when he was 10 and I was 13) my brother would use my stereo.This would piss me off when I’d come home and find him in there. So I’d run up, go in my room and say in a short and curt voice, “Get out.” Sometimes I’d say, “Get out faggot.”
He’d stop what he was doing, gather up all his belongs and quietly leave. I’d just shut the door behind him with no remorse for what I’d just said or how I just treated him.

Makes me want a redo. I feel sad for both of those kids. (My brother and me).
I’m angry at my parents who set us up in certain ways to act like this and even for me to treat him like this. I believed it was normal to be nasty to your brother, even call him names. But now, I know better. I’m angry and sad that my parents didn’t teach us about boundaries and how to respect each other and each others belongings and privacy while we were growing up.

I’m ashamed of my behavior while at the same time feel victimized by my parents in all of this.

My treatment of him makes me feel like I deserved his rage attacks later in our adult life.

When it comes to my brother and me and these types of interactions, I so wish I could go back, knowing what I know now. To have that awareness so that I can be kinder. I think it would change so much about our relationship probably, and also how I feel about myself.

I try to remember I was a product of the toxic and chaotic environment that was my family but it doesn’t make me feel any better about how I treated him or the way things turned out.

My Sister

When she was just a toddler (3 years old) and I was about 9, my sister always wanted to play with my gerbils. One day, while I was at school and she was unsupervised, she dragged a chair to my bedroom door in the hallway, stood on it and flipped the eye-hook lock that was meant to keep my younger siblings out of my room and the gerbils safe from the large family dog.

She of course used no precaution to keep the dog out when she entered, so when she took the lid off and took a gerbil out of the aquarium cage they lived in, it jumped onto the floor and the dog, instinctually stomped on it. Gerbil, dead on impact.

When I got home from school that day, just after I walked through the front door, I could see my mother and siblings sitting on the sofa with somber looks on their faces. My mom was the one to tell me the news. I don’t remember my immediate reaction.

I do remember however, how I felt during the preparation of the burial of this pet. We all kept walking back and forth from the basement to the back yard getting tools to dig up dirt for the grave and make a cross. I remember I was in so much emotional pain. It was overwhelming and a raging anger had built up during all of this walking back and forth. The family dog was right there as well, right along with us. The grief was also overbearing.

At the time I don’t think I was aware that I was angry at my mother for letting my sister invade my privacy that day and many other days before that. I was angry at my sister for causing the death of my beloved little pet. It was her fault this cute little gerbil was dead!

But even without being aware, when I think back on it now, I did know this, deep down I knew it was my mother’s fault. But to show anger toward my mother, to rage at my mother for making this happen, would surely mean abandonment for me.

So instead I got angry at the dog for delivering the deadly blow. I know even more deeply now than I did then, that it wasn’t his fault. But my little nine year old body needed an outlet for all the rage that had built up.

I’m ashamed that I smacked my dog as hard as I could with my little hand, while I tearfully raged, calling him a bad dog. And even then, he continued to walk beside us all, as we walked back and forth in preparation of a funeral for a rodent.

In response to my smacking the dog, my mom said, “I’ve already done that” in a somber and regretful tone.

What I really wanted to do was rage at my mother for not being a mother, for not stopping my sister from going into my room in the first place. I wanted to rage at my sister too. How dare they cause this unnecessary and untimely death to happen.

But I didn’t dare. Not only did I not have the words or understand my feelings of rage and anger at them, to rage at them, would surely mean a certain death for me.

The gerbil incident was one of the most painful events of my life as a child. The loss itself felt unbearable. But in addition to that, I wasn’t able and didn’t feel safe to direct my anger and rage toward the people who actually deserved it.

I’m angry that the opportunity for healthy relationships was stolen from me and my my siblings by not teaching us that all emotions are healthy and OK and that we weren’t nurtured and guided through those emotions to help us understand them as well as how to handle them.