Not completely, but after having a great few days, Christmas included, I’m back in this ridiculous funk where I just play Peter Gabriel’s “Don’t Give Up” on repeat and try not to cry.
It sounds really stupid, and it kind of is, but god dammit, once again, something has to give.
I feel like I’m not allowed to have any imperfections at all, ever, or make any mistakes, or be too rude to anyone, and I’m told shit like “Then you better start saving up for an apartment”.
It started last night while watching a movie with the family. Over two hours into the movie, my mother turns to me and says ‘You’re taking a bath tomorrow’.
It has long since been my mother’s deal that if she doesn’t physically see me coming out of the bathroom with wet hair and new clothes on, she doesn’t “believe” that I’ve taken a bath.
Okay, let’s examine this. Back in middle school and such, I didn’t like taking baths. I don’t know why. I have a habit of reaching life milestones well after everyone else my age, so who knows.
My point is that is in the past, but I got pissed off at her little comment and said she was being a bitch.
Okay, first of all, I’m still on my period, and my mood swings can be pretty awesome. Secondly, I reserve the right to call someone a bitch when they are rude to me. People do it to me, so I’m just giving them a taste of their own medicine.
What kind of an asshole tells their grown children when they’re going to bathe? Do you have it in your head that people should smell like fucking perfume all the time? For years, my mother has complained about smells that nobody else in the house can detect.
It’s made me not even want to sit next to her on the couch, at movies, at restaurants, anywhere, because I’m afraid she’ll think she fucking smells something. I just get tired of her assuming the odd smell must always be me. You know what she’d say to that? ‘Well, it usually IS you so blahblahblahblah’.
And, okay. You know people get mad and say shit in the moment, when they’re still mad, that might only seem too harsh to them when the mood has passed. And it’s just an honest mistake.
But no. It’s never that with me, it’s because I’m just a little worthless bitch living off my parents, or something. I don’t know.
All I know is that shit isn’t helping. My moods are generally better, as opposed to the awful depression I had a couple years ago, but when I get into shit like this, it makes the depression all the worse.
And then it doesn’t help if I actually start to cry, because all I am told is that I’m 25 years old and I need to grow up.
What, so I’m not human and I can’t ever want to cry? What kind of bullshit is that?
Speaking of bullshit, after the aforementioned bath incident, my dad had to ask me ‘Why do you cuss so much’. Because I want to.
They’re just words. They’re the words I feel like using. I like swearing. I don’t do it for shock value, I do it because they’re the words I want to use. And he gave me the condescending bullshit response and rolled his eyes at me.
He always assumes that I’m a stupid, little immature shit, and he’s unbelievably rude to me at times, but then he turns around and yells at me to move out if I say anything.
Having a job has made me feel less helpless than I have in the past, but when shit like this goes on, it doesn’t help at all. I almost feel right back down there where I did when I couldn’t find a job. Like nothing I do makes any difference.
And my friends are supportive but they just don’t understand. I can’t have any problems with my job because “Oh well that’s being an adult blahblahblah get used to it”. Yeah, okay, pardon me if I’m a little late to that party. I didn’t have to get a job until I was 19 years old. I am behind on all that shit. Before Thanksgiving this year, I’d never had to work on a holiday, or a black friday, so excuse me if I’m still fucking getting used to that being an adult bullshit. It’s not my fault you’ve been dealing with this adult shit since you were a teenager. I haven’t, okay, and I’m trying the best I can, but it’s fucking difficult.
I’m usually in an all around better mood than I was just a couple years prior, but the truth is, sometimes I feel like this. Where I’m a worthless, ugly, pile of shit that nobody will ever want, nobody will ever want my art, or my photography, and nobody will ever give a shit about me at all, and the only men I attract are dishonest assholes.