I Guess I am Pretty Mad

I had a lot of fun taking the first picture of Morgan that is in my previous post. It looks like she is sitting just at the very edge of the water, without getting wet (look at her toes). Well, she is; but, what you can't tell is that between the edge of the sand, where she's sitting, and the water, which is right next to her, there's about an 8 or 10 inch drop off...

There are particular things that have me down these days, as well as life in general:

1. I miss my Mom. She sucked as a Mom, until she was about 58 or 59 (she lived a few months past her 61st birthday) but I miss her, anyway. Go figure.

2. I am severely stressed about money. While, intellectually and logically, I know that that should be resolved as far as problems go within the next few weeks, intelligence and logic do not take care of things that need to be taken care of in the meantime.

3. I have been rethinking my entire psychosocialspiritual epistemology.

4. I don't want to die. There are too many things I want to do, first. Sometimes, though, I would like to stop living... Stop struggling, stop thinking, stop analyzing, stop caring, stop being me.

5. I ran out of prescriptions, and so I don't have my anti-depressant and anti-anxiety medications. Since I have to choose, I am opting for feeding Morgan before having the prescriptions refilled.

6. There are some problematic situations at work that are extremely stressful.

7. I am mad.

I am mad at myself, basically for being me; that is, for being shy, reserved, perfectionist, easily bullied, responsible (as in assuming responsibility for other people's crap; assuming I am at fault whenever something goes wrong, etc.), sensitive, sad, nervous, anxious, self aware, and conscientious. I am mad at myself for not loving certain people as much as or in the way that they would have liked me to. I am mad at myself for changing; even for making positive changes.

I am mad at other people who have wronged me and then blamed and/or punished me for their mistakes; which is what F did, by allowing our relationship to develop on the basis of lies he told me, and then lashing out at me for caring about him, for believing the lies, and for somehow allowing myself to be victimized by that caring and by having believed in the lies. Now, I am all for choosing not to be a victim of certain things, but I honestly do not see how anybody on God/Science's green Earth could expect me to consciously choose not to be victimized by another person's lies. Under the guise of recovery, I feel like he is not accepting responsibility for his actions or for how those actions and decisions can devastate other people's lives. Further, I feel that his lashing out at me for caring about him, for feeling what I felt, and for believing his lies, is nothing more than the perpetuation of alcoholic tendencies and behaviors (he's also lashing out at me for the spread of rumors that did not originate in me or my friends, but that I believe come from his ex, who seems to be a master manipulator, and whose manipulations he seems to particularly vulnerable to), is entirely unfair and unrelated to my having done anything wrong. I think that those behaviors are tantamount to the continuation of the weaving of the web of lies and half truths (at best) that comprise the fabric of his existence. While that, in and of itself, is not my business, I have been hurt by it all, and still am. I can't help but care about him and wish that he were open to anybody's caring other than that of his ex. I am mad at him for seeming not to care about any of that, and for behaviors that would lead people to believe that I had simply imagined it all.

I am mad at some of the shittiest parents I have ever heard of, for creating a life in which three little girls had to raise themselves, for torturing and abusing them physically and emotionally, and for stealing from them.

I am mad at M1 for my inability to understand or connect with her.

I am mad at M2 for living so far away (even though I am the one who moved) and for letting life get in the way, so that we haven't spoken in a while.

I am mad at myself for assuming that M1's not calling has something to do with a deficiency on my part or is evidence of her being mad at me.

I am mad at my mother for dying.

I am mad at M4 for being a hormonal adolescent.

I am mad at M3 for not being able to resist the devastations of depression and alcoholism.

Above virtually anything or anyone else, I am mad at alcohol, and what the hell good does that do?

I am mad at myself for being mad at people for things that they cannot control, basically, for being human.

I am mad at M4's father for just plain sucking, for owing me money, for treating me like shit since September, 1989, when we met, for abusing my children, for lying, for drinking, for his lack of moral fiber or conscience, and for his general weakness.

I am mad at myself for feeling sorry for myself. But, all things considered, it all seems rather wretched right now.

I am mad at weakness; my own, as well as everybody else's.

I am just plain mad.

8. My back hurts. I have had bouts of sciatica since a heifer in heat jumped on my back and pinned me against a stone manger and wall during the winter of 1985. The nerve down the back of my right leg also hurts. Because of a botched hernia repair, I also have nerve damage in the front of my right leg. So my right leg is killing me.

I could go on, but I think you get the picture.