Oops

Talk about blog abandonment.  My bad.

I was  just about to update, but now I'm starting to doze off.  Fail.

I will write tomorrow.  I swear.

Anger

I'm not really sure what to title this post, so I just put what I feel - anger.

I've been on vacation from work this week. I really didn't want to, but apparently had no choice. None of my closest friends have text me, even once, to say hello or see how I'm doing. That makes me sad. I know why they haven't text me - I left on a bad note and probably pissed them off.

I've mentioned in the past how the mere mention of me looking like my mother, or anything similar to that sends me into a mental tailspin. Well, I get the same way when people say that my mother loves me, or anything else to that effect. I get angry. I want to cry. All I can think about is all the things that she's done to me. That's not love. I want to scream at these people, but I can't. All I get are disgusted looks when I say, very simply, that she doesn't. I kindly ask people to shut up (in nicer words). They don't understand how it makes me feel.

It just so happened that a similar incident happened this past Friday. I forgot what the conversation was even about, but all I heard from my good friend's mouth was, "You know, I'm sure your mother loves you." I felt all of the blood drain from my face. I didn't need a mirror to know that my facial expression completely changed. I tried to turn my head the other way to hide my face, but it didn't work. I kept quiet because I didn't want to come off as rude, but it was obvious to her, after a few minutes, that I was very angry and upset at something. I just don't think it dawned on her what exactly it was.  Later on when she asked why I was angry, I said it was because of her. When she asked why, all I said was "Nothing, never mind." I left it at that. I'm sure she was angry with me, but what was I supposed to say? How do you even begin to explain to people why I feel the way I feel? They know I have issues with my mother, but they don't know why. I never went into detail, because I'm afraid of what they will think of me if they knew the truth, and I don't want to lose the only good people I have left in my life.

So I guess that's why she hasn't talked to me since. In a way I understand, because she doesn't understand my feelings and never will. I just wish people could accept my feelings the way they are without needing to know why. Another friend told me that I can't get upset every time someone says something like that, that eventually I'm just going to have to deal with it and get over it. I'm sorry. I can't get over it. I don't think it's something you can get over. Deal with it, sure, I know that can be done. It takes a long time though, with a lot of love and support along the way - and I just don't have that in place to even go down that road. I am not minimizing the pain of other victims of molestation, but I think it's thrice as hard when your molester is someone in your own family instead of a stranger. You don't have to see that stranger every day. No one ever mentions that stranger. But a mother? You can't escape that. It's something you have to see, hear, and deal with every day. Even if you move half way around the world, eventually someone is going to ask about your mother, your father, your family. It's inevitable. It's inescapable. It's my reality.

It's Always a Cycle

I realize I haven't blogged in...almost two months. It's not like it matters, because nobody reads this anyway. It's 1 AM and I can't sleep.

It's been rough the past couple of weeks. I was doing well before that. I was working 50+ hour weeks, and found myself so preoccupied with my work that I didn't even have time to stress about anything else. It was wonderful...until two weeks ago when they had to cut my hours back. That meant spending more time at home, which, as usual, turned into more stress.

It was last Monday that began my vicious, self-destructive cycle all over again. I wasn't feeling well. I had just endured a five day bought with a stomach bug and had very little patience. I was in the kitchen when, for no reason, my mother started calling me names. I had a pimple on my nose, so she started calling me "fat Rudolph." I kept to myself fir a few minutes, but she kept going on. Finally, I just blew up and said that at least I had a pretty face. Then she said the most hurtful words: "You look just like me." She rubbed it in my face. I finally left the room and went to go cry in the bathroom. I didn't know whether to cry or scream. So many emotions ran through me. Memories came back to the surface.

I burned myself that night. I burned my entire abdomen right up to my chest. I tried to burn my mother out of me. I hate when people say I look like her. I don't want to look like her. I don't want to look on the mirror and see her. It disgusts me. I can't seem to escape her. Sometimes I want to disfigure myself so badly that I won't look like her at all. The pain the burn gave me is only a fraction of the pain my heart that I can never explain. I wish I can tell people what's wrong with me. Society has idealized mothers so much that people pass judgment on me for not idealizing mine. I guess I'll always feel alone.

I get it now...

I think I understand now why they say it's not a good idea to date your coworkers.

I've continued my relationship with the SBMWSRN. To my surprise, we've successfully kept the relationship a secret from everyone. It's been difficult to say the least. I have to see him almost every day and pretend that we're just acquaintances. I don't know how much longer I can keep it up. I have a feeling that, no matter what happens, it's not going to end well.

There a lot of nights (this one included) that I stay up and ask myself what the hell I'm doing. At first, I thought I'd be okay with the whole setup of this situation. He has a girlfriend...a girlfriend that is serious enough that they live together. So from the beginning I should have known that I was never going to be his girlfriend. I did know that. I just never expected to develop such strong feelings for him. The more time I spend with him, the stronger the feelings get, and the more I fall in love with him.

I'm at a point now where I feel like if I continue the relationship, it's going to break my heart. So, I'll end it. But wait...I can't just end it. I work with him. I have to see him everyday. I'm not going to be able to handle my feelings for him, if I stay with him or not. I can't erase him fro, my life completely. If I could, then this wouldn't even be an issue.

I applied for several jobs today. I told people it was because my hours were cut at work (which they were, but money is not really an issue enough for that to mater). The truth is that I really need to escape this situation. I don't want us to get caught and get both of us in serious trouble. I don't want to have to think about him every day. I don't want to get hurt. I don't really know any other way to handle it.

No Title Necessary

I'm just lost.

I can't even blog about it because everything is so jumbled in my head. I want to erase the last 9 months of my life and start over.

So I spent most of tonight in the bathroom crying and throwing up. I've been feeling good lately and the speed bump today will probably fuck that up for me for quite a while.

If I didn't mention it previously, I've been on vacation from work this week. It's nice. I haven't had vacation in over a year, and I worked so hard the last two months that I needed the relaxation time. I decided to pamper myself this past week with some shopping, a hair cut and color, and getting my nails done (which I haven't done in years). I was feeling so good about myself...until tonight.

I came to the kitchen to get a drink and noticed my mother doing her nails...the same way I got them done. Before you assume I am crazy, my mother has never gotten her nails done or even painted them for as long as I can remember. She was also about to color her hair.  I have no doubt that she was doing it on purpose. I immediately had to go to the bathroom. I started crying so much, I couldn't breathe. I was throwing up. I had a million things running through my head. Flashbacks of things in the past were starting to come back to my conscious. At that moment, I wanted to put my head through a wall. To make things worse, no one can really understand the emotions and feelings that overtake me, because no one I know has been through what I have.

This isn't the first time this has happened. Quite a few times, my mother has taken my clothes and will start wearing them for no reason.  I never take them back. It sickens me when I see her in them. It makes me want to burn all of my clothes. It makes me want to burn everything.

No one understands how badly I try to differentiate myself from my mother.  As I learned in my brief stint in group therapy, one of the hardest things to do is find my own identity separate from my mother. When I look in the mirror, I see my mother. It disgusts me. It's part of the reason I physically destroy myself. I try to destroy the parts that remind me of her. To see her in my clothes, and doing her nails and hair the exact same way I do, brings back those thoughts that I am her, and she is me. I don't want to be anything like her.  My immediate response is to destroy it. I want to rip my nails out. I want to rip my hair out. I want someone to tell me I'm not her.

Late Blooming Rebellion

You know how they say teenagers have a rebellious stage? I think I'm going through mine now, at the age of 24.

During the past few weeks, I have told my mother off numerous times. It felt great afterward. I had no regrets about it, either. Lately I have just been saying exactly what's on my mind. No more holding it in, and no more hiding my feelings. When someone is interrupting my TV show, I tell them to shut the fuck up. When someone is making fun of me, I tell them to get the fuck over themselves. I think I may continue this trend for the rest of my life. I love it.

On another rebellious note, I'm getting a tattoo. I haven't gotten it yet, as I am still tweaking the design a little. I am getting a tattoo of a phoenix on my upper back, with the Latin phrase "Luctor et emergo" underneath, which means "I struggle and emerge." I think it is quite fitting and meaningful to me personally. I want to overcome everything. This will remind me of that goal.

Then, there are rebellious acts which I am, somewhat, ashamed of. I have been having unprotected sex with a guy (and yes, he has a girlfriend). I have fallen in love with him, but I doubt the feeling is mutual. I don't even know that much about him, yet I continue to have sex with him like it's nothing, I never even thought to ask him to use protection. I never even asked if he was clean. I should know better, but I'm not using my brain. There is also a chance that I could be pregnant. As much as I try to put it out of my mind, it's stressing me out. Maybe I've gone too far. Maybe I've lost control.