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General Angst And Poor Relations
Posted by
Garnet Child
,
17 March 2012
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Today, my dad told me two things that utterly killed me inside. The first was, in context, that I am both an unlikeable person and that I both do not like, and am not able to interact with, people. Thank you dad for verifying what I already knew about myself, that I am unlikeable and unlovable. But your wrong about the middle bit. I do like people. I love most people, that’s why the first bit hurts so much.
The second was when I told him that I wasn’t actually any happier at school than at home. I was trying to tell him about my mood swings and why coming home every other weekend wasn’t a relief to me at all. But I never got to explain it, because he just told me that that’s just how life is, that it really never does get any better. I don’t even want happiness at this point, I just want content. I want the baseline with lows that I can explain and highs that never get high enough to hurt anyone. I guess that doesn’t exist though.
My dad isnt a bad person or a bad father, he just isnt afraid to tell me what he thinks. I know that my dad loves me…but he doesn’t like me. He wouldn’t have chosen someone with my personality to be his child if he could have had his pick. He does what hes expected to or just because “that’s what fathers are supposed to do.” I’ve never seen an inch of feeling behind any of it though. It’s not unique to just my dad. Its just how people react to me. I really feel like every relationship in my life is just social obligation. All of them. Every family member. Even my friends.
My only friends are more siblings than anything; we’ve grown up together practically. And the only reason that we even work is because we’re used to having each other around. I’ve only actually seen them twice this month and I’ve been home almost every weekend and all this week. I push so hard just to get them to let me over, or get them to actually do something. But they never want to; they actually tell me that they don’t want to. They forget about me constantly. I mean, literally forget about me. I’ve actually left for an entire month, came back and my friends LITTERALLY did not even notice that I had left at all. Essentially, I’m like that old toy that you really loved when you were a kid, you never play with it, most days you don’t even look at it, but if someone ever got rid of it you would notice. Not because you love it or liked it now, but because it was just part of your childhood. A dead memory. But a comfortable one. That’s exactly what I am… comfortable. And they only seem to notice that I even exist is when there’s some danger of losing that comfort. The only thing that seemed to motivate them was my (likely) manic escapade. But that was automatic and because I was terrifying them to the point where they feared for their safety. And in the moments when they did seem to care, their reaction was just, “I am Jay’s friend therefore I must” “I’m expected to care, therefore I must be there.” And they were, for that one day, and now it’s back to me pushing and pulling and pleading just to see them again. And I tell them that I hate that they don’t push back and they apologize once or twice, and forget that I ever said it at all and let me keep pushing. I can’t even blame them because I’m just such an unlikeable person. I wouldn’t push back either. I can’t stop though. I can’t give up on them because I have no one else. I have absolutely no one else.
I keep on asking for help over and over again and I’m only inching forward and being pushed back a mile. I’ve tried to get to see doctors because my school has reached their limit that they can see me, but no one will. I’ve spent this entire week trying to get in to see someone, but I couldn’t find a single place. Out of the twenty some places I called, not one could see me. Even asking for help doesn’t do a D*** thing. Everyone I call tells me I should just go into inpatient, because it will be faster, even if I’m not directly suicidal. But I won’t lie for the sake of making their jobs easier. I’ve never been truly suicidal, I know that, because I know the kind of person that I am. I don’t do things in halves. If I was to ever reach that point, I wouldn’t ask for help, and I would not fail. I guarantee it. Because I wouldn’t be able to live with myself if I failed.
I’ve come to the conclusion that, if there isn’t some form of miracle in modern medicine, then I am probably going to end up ending my life at some point. Though not likely any time in the near future, maingly because I have certain criteria I have to meet before id let myself go through with it to make sure that Its not just a reaction to pain. There is a physical morbid check list that I’ve made for myself, and so far I’ve only reached one of the five on that list. I'm still trying my damnedest to keep it that way.
Bloggies
Jay
The second was when I told him that I wasn’t actually any happier at school than at home. I was trying to tell him about my mood swings and why coming home every other weekend wasn’t a relief to me at all. But I never got to explain it, because he just told me that that’s just how life is, that it really never does get any better. I don’t even want happiness at this point, I just want content. I want the baseline with lows that I can explain and highs that never get high enough to hurt anyone. I guess that doesn’t exist though.
My dad isnt a bad person or a bad father, he just isnt afraid to tell me what he thinks. I know that my dad loves me…but he doesn’t like me. He wouldn’t have chosen someone with my personality to be his child if he could have had his pick. He does what hes expected to or just because “that’s what fathers are supposed to do.” I’ve never seen an inch of feeling behind any of it though. It’s not unique to just my dad. Its just how people react to me. I really feel like every relationship in my life is just social obligation. All of them. Every family member. Even my friends.
My only friends are more siblings than anything; we’ve grown up together practically. And the only reason that we even work is because we’re used to having each other around. I’ve only actually seen them twice this month and I’ve been home almost every weekend and all this week. I push so hard just to get them to let me over, or get them to actually do something. But they never want to; they actually tell me that they don’t want to. They forget about me constantly. I mean, literally forget about me. I’ve actually left for an entire month, came back and my friends LITTERALLY did not even notice that I had left at all. Essentially, I’m like that old toy that you really loved when you were a kid, you never play with it, most days you don’t even look at it, but if someone ever got rid of it you would notice. Not because you love it or liked it now, but because it was just part of your childhood. A dead memory. But a comfortable one. That’s exactly what I am… comfortable. And they only seem to notice that I even exist is when there’s some danger of losing that comfort. The only thing that seemed to motivate them was my (likely) manic escapade. But that was automatic and because I was terrifying them to the point where they feared for their safety. And in the moments when they did seem to care, their reaction was just, “I am Jay’s friend therefore I must” “I’m expected to care, therefore I must be there.” And they were, for that one day, and now it’s back to me pushing and pulling and pleading just to see them again. And I tell them that I hate that they don’t push back and they apologize once or twice, and forget that I ever said it at all and let me keep pushing. I can’t even blame them because I’m just such an unlikeable person. I wouldn’t push back either. I can’t stop though. I can’t give up on them because I have no one else. I have absolutely no one else.
I keep on asking for help over and over again and I’m only inching forward and being pushed back a mile. I’ve tried to get to see doctors because my school has reached their limit that they can see me, but no one will. I’ve spent this entire week trying to get in to see someone, but I couldn’t find a single place. Out of the twenty some places I called, not one could see me. Even asking for help doesn’t do a D*** thing. Everyone I call tells me I should just go into inpatient, because it will be faster, even if I’m not directly suicidal. But I won’t lie for the sake of making their jobs easier. I’ve never been truly suicidal, I know that, because I know the kind of person that I am. I don’t do things in halves. If I was to ever reach that point, I wouldn’t ask for help, and I would not fail. I guarantee it. Because I wouldn’t be able to live with myself if I failed.
I’ve come to the conclusion that, if there isn’t some form of miracle in modern medicine, then I am probably going to end up ending my life at some point. Though not likely any time in the near future, maingly because I have certain criteria I have to meet before id let myself go through with it to make sure that Its not just a reaction to pain. There is a physical morbid check list that I’ve made for myself, and so far I’ve only reached one of the five on that list. I'm still trying my damnedest to keep it that way.
Bloggies
Jay
