First, let me hereby acknowledge that I certainly do really, really suck as a person sometimes. Why deny it? It is what it is. At least, I’ve got the balls to admit it. But, let me assure you that I do not really, really suck as a person most of the time.
I wish that I could blame my situation/life/lack of life on the cold turkey from “happy times in a bottle “. I would just love to lay the fault at the evil makers of Cymbalta, Lamicital, and the like. But, I simply can’t do that. Oh yes, I can certainly point fingers at them for the hell of dependence and nasty withdrawal to the drugs. The sad fact is, though, that since I’m clean of that crap, life has remained pretty much unchanged. There is the perk of not having to beg like a dog for a pdoc to write me some ’scripts. And, it is a big plus to my budget since I don’t have insurance.
The realilty is that I’m still existing in a black-hole gutter similiar to a sewer rat. Is it a plus or a minus that I’ve been forced to take a good look at myself? That’s very debatable.
I isolate myself. I cannot control it. I’ve spent many hours trying to figure out why I, along with lots of others, choose to do this. Seperate ourselves from friends, family, co-workers, church, etc. I can put on my plastic smile (see D, I do read this blog) and occasionally laugh my programmed laugh. If you saw me at the grocery store, post office, movies, etc., you might think that I look a little sad. You might think that something unpleasant has happened to me. But, you would never guess that I don’t see you. I don’t hear you. I don’t give a rat’s ass about you. I don’t share your world any longer. I pretend that I do just to make you not feel uncomfortable. Just so that I won’t see you pointing and whispering something about how distant and aloof that I am.
Why do I/we choose this aloneness? I/we’ve been hurt deeply one too many times. I/we know that one more stab in the heart will be the end. Even though, I/we choose to isolate, it doesn’t mean that I/we don’t have feelings. I/we have just become masters at hiding them. We’ve learned the art of shielding our emotions. And, we didn’t learn it overnight, my friend. No..hell no…no to the friggin’ upteenth power! We’ve been students of art of withdrawl from life for years. Most of us from childhood. Our MDOI (master’s degree of isolation) has been costly. The tuition has literally come from our blood, sweat, and tears.
Am I sounding melodramatic? You bet’cha! Right now, I’m hosting one hellova pity party. BYOS….bring your own shit. I’m not serving any damn thing because I don’t want to and am not in a gracious hostess mood.
I feel sorry for me. THERE! I SAID IT! And, I’m angry. Really pissed off. I want to, right here and right now, say “FUCK YOU!” to a lot of people. Come on, admit it. You want to say it, too. So, here’s your opportunity to let it rip. Altogether now, take a deep cleansing breath and shout it all at the top of your lungs……
I’m sending a great big fuck-you to my dad who made me feel like a little pile of dog turds the whole time that I lived in his house.
FU to the relative who…..shit, still can’t go there. Sooner or later, though. Sooner or later……
FU to “true” friends who take a leave of absence at the first sign that I might be a little different, a little in need of understanding or comfort. Sooooo sorry that I couldn’t be Little Miss Sunshine 100 percent of the time.
FU to my kids. Why is it OK for you to bring your whiney ass problems to me but a big, fat NO-NO if Mom needs a little help? It’s not OK! Take your “I’m so stressed out” shit to one of your “people that you want to be like”. You know….your wonderful neighbor who happens to be my same age. She’s such a role model. Here’s a tip for ya…..it’s friggin’ easy to be a role model if you don’t ever have to show what you are really like. It’s easy to be admired if ya just gotta show up at the neighborhood BB-fuckin’-Q with a bowl of potatoe salad WAKE UP! Here’s a life lesson…..you don’t know what a person is really like until you live with them. Go live with her for awhile. THEN, tell me all about how she’s a role model. Why would you think that kind of shit wouldn’t hurt?
Oh, and don’t think that I forgot about you….the other one. Ya think that’s it’s OK for you to idolize and spend your fee time with your Stepford Wife family? It’s OK to come or call me when you want to be the real you and stop the damn pretending game? It’s NOT! If you’re gonna pretend to be so damn perfect all the time around them, would it kill ya to act a little nicer to the woman who put up with your shit all of your life? You know…the one who walks on pins and needles, afraid of upsetting you?
Maybe, I did raise idiots. Sorry, folks, went off on my own little rant.
FU, especially, to all the pdocs and therapist who have wasted a great deal of my time and money jerking me around. No more moolah for you from me.
FU to all the assholes who use bipolar disorder as an excuse to do what they want. YOU REALLY DO SUCK waaay more than me.
FU to Bono….yes, I know how crazy that sounds. Why am I wasted my time and space on a FU to Bono? Because, as I said, I’m not only isolated…..I’m pissed off. WTF is Bono taking part in Obama’s inauguration party? For cryin’ out loud….he’s from Ireland. Go home and celebrate your own country’s friggin’ political leaders or whatever, Bono. I do like your music but you have no damn business takin’ part in my country’s affairs! Somebody, please, tell me when it became appropriate for people from other countries to have any part in our politics!!!!!!
Out of madness comes sheer genius on a occasion. I think that I’m gonna start the first FuckYouBoquet/Singing Telegram Company. I’ll bet’cha business would be fantastic.
Well, I feel better. I’ve done worn myself out with this flood of unfamiliar emotions.
Besides, it’s time for Big Love.
I’m sure that I’ll come back and edit this to add more FU’s later. In the meantime, feel free to add your own FU!
Fair warning……if you post a comment that I don’t like, I’ll add you to the FU list. As stated, I’m really one angry biotch right now.