thoughts

I am nothing more, most days, than a four year old child, begging somebody to tell me Im doing the right thing, Im doing things right, and that they are proud of me. That they love me.

That is the absolute motivation for almost everything I do

Notice me, love me, affirm me.

its why I always want to be *told* what to do - preferably down to the last detail. Show me *exactly* how you want it done, and Ill do it that way *every* damn time. Leave it up to me, and Im terrified Ill be wrong.
There is nothing worse in my life, than being wrong. If I do something wrong, the world falls apart, time stops. People are mad at me, angry at me. Most of the time, I dont know why. I try to do my best at things, all the time.
When I fail, I cease to care. If you dont care, than obviously - you dont care about *me*.
Apathy, is worse than hate.
Just tell me I didnt screw up - again.

Because thats my largest fear.
Afraid that I am useless, afraid that I am stupid, afraid that I am ugly.
Tell me instead that you need me, that I am perfect, and that I am beautiful.
Im still broken, fix me.

I know the reality of it - that I have to find these things for myself. I have to realize that regardless of what others think of me, that I *am* useful, that I dont *need* to be perfect (and thats allright) and that I *am* beautiful. At least to God, who is the *only* one who should matter, really.

This is all - nurture. This is all leftovers from my upbringing. Not even any specific trauma. Just, general life. Its - all of it - none of it is *me*. Its thought processes imprinted *on* me. Its - battleable. If there is such a word.

THe FAE? well - Im always going to share too much information with strangers (im working on this, making it a game with myself) Im never going to *quite* understand how long it takes to get from one place to another. Im probably always going to battle depression.

Now - is the depression tied up in the psychological bullshit, or the FAE? or is it situational, brought about by too much death, too young, and too much morbidity?
Because we cant discount what hearing almost daily, from your parents, that they are going to die and leave you - can do to a childs sense of security. Or self-image.

SO - as Im waiting for my "first" official, Dr. sanctioned psych visit... well - first for a long time. I think I went once, as a teen - when I lived with my sisters, and I dont remember getting much out of it. This time, Im more prepared. Im not wanting to just "fuck around with a psyche" but actually get some serious guidance and help.

The only reason why Im being sent is to get my meds straightened out. Im tired of being tired *all* the time. Im tired of having those *very* rare, but ever annoying auditory hallucinations. And Im *very* tired of the waves of absolute blackness, that roll over me that I am incapable of fighting. And the rage. the rage doesnt come often these days, but when it does - I have *no* control. I lash out at everybody. Even my kids.

Maybe, if I can get my meds straightened out, I can get the energy I need to exercise again, and the will to eat a little better. Loose some weight, get my self esteem up there a bit again.
And than maybe I can start looking again, at those old issues. the ugly, the stupid, the useless - my mantra.

And while Im on this kick, let me be absolutely blunt.
Before I was a mother... there was a time.
It was - before my *second* go around with the shul, as well...

I had started to get a grip on all of this. I had a job that made me confident, two in a row, actually. I had held jobs, for longer than three months, I had proven to myself that I had worked around some of my issues.
I had decided that my style would always be slightly gothic, and that there was nothing wrong with that. If other people wanted to bug me about the vampire thing, well - that was *their* bullshit, not mine. Id bug them with it right back. If they were so narrow minded that a woman cant wear black on a regular basis without thinking shes the living dead, than thats *their* stupidity.
For me, I think, its more of just a statement of this is what I like, take it or leave it. I like blue too, and purple, and some greens. But *everything* goes with black. its - practical, stylish. You cant really go wrong with it.
So.... for all those people who in the last few years who have demanded that I become someone other than who I am. For those who have decided that I change to fit thier view of who I - particularly as a mother - need to be?

may I say a hearty "Fuck You"
And be healthier in the bargain for saying it.

Fuck you, for saying I drag you down. Im not the pessimist here. Im not the one who drinks hard liquer because its "cheaper to get drunk that way" Im not the one with my head in the sand about my husbands porn addiction. Im not the one who ignores thier children to play a video game, Im not the one who cant stand up for myself.
Fuck you, for saying that I think Im a vampire. I know the difference between the living and the dead, fantasy and reality. I know I need I need antidepressents, and dont pretend otherwise. I know that my sanity isnt always the best - but I live in a world far more real than yours. And dont preach to me... I know how often youcrack open your bible, I know how trust worthy you are. And I know that your prayer chain is just a glorified gossip line.
Maybe you should see whos introducing me as the church Dracula, before you assume *I* think or say anything. Or better yet, take a look at your own. Yes, Im wearing black, and no, I dont wear a cross - but your guitarist is wearing an anarchy hat, and see through pants on platform. Your cantor hasnt cracked a bible in a month. The person whos doing the meditation put six minutes of effort into a 15 minute rant on something that has nothing to do with scripture.

You destroyed my self-esteem, you told me that everything that I was, was wrong. You told me that I was so deeply wounded, I couldnt be of use.
But now I see how absolutely wrong you were.
*You* - all of you - were the wounded ones. So scared of someone who was becoming whole in front of you that you ran me over. You ripped out my guts and decided I wasnt worthy.
We are so far removed now, that I dont think we could understand each other at all, anymore. And as I slowly get my - identity - back, Im quite sure you will know me less and less.
You put me in a box, and I refused to fit, so you smashed me down until I would.
But I still didnt, and thats when you got *mad*.

Now, I think its my turn, not to care, for a while.

SO thats where I am.
I *know* my damage levels. I dont like it, but - I know it.
And thats a damn good place to start.