Expectations

I am fuming. I am so fucking pissed off that I don't know what to do with the anger but I'm not turning it on myself so where do I put it?

Am I not allowed to be mad and frustrated? It seems by J's standards I'm always supposed to be smiles and sunshine. I'm not allowed to get frustrated with him and god forbid I try to talk to him because somehow, no matter what the situation, it turns into my fucking fault.

The day I quit my job is the day it seems everything started to run downhill.

J claimed that he was going to quit his job after his parents left and find something that pays more. I've heard this many times so I didn't want to put much faith into it but I guess I did. As far as I know he hasn't applied anywhere. He claims it's because he wants to keep his benefits so we can afford my not-so-anti-depressants. Well, if he got a job that paid more we could easily get Blue Cross and have nothing to worry about. I have been applying for jobs all over the place, but they're all male dominated jobs (warehouse, construction, driving) that I'm not getting call backs. I'm really struggling with this as I can easily do those jobs, earn great money but because I don't have a penis I'm not even given a chance. J could easily do those jobs but he won't even apply.

I feel like I'm in a pressure cooker with all the shit J is putting on me. There was a great job I interviewed for, and the person who referred me told me the manager said the interview went great. I haven't heard back. J constantly kept telling me I hope you get that job, you better get that job... Well I didn't and because I didn't I'm under even more pressure to find something else.

I don't understand why it's solely up to me to improve our situation.

Untitled

I feel inadequate. I feel like a failure. I feel lost.

The inadequacy is partly from my mother. It seems that nothing I do or how hard I work is not good enough. Last week she had me in tears. More than tears. Sobbing to the point of hyperventilating. You know as a little kid when you would get so upset that you gasped for air during a tantrum and breathed snot bubbles? That was me - minus the snot bubbles!

The woman is always on me about something. I do my best to block it out and ignore it but sometimes it eats through my extra tough exterior and just breaks me. Examples of such are completely eluding me at the moment which is probably good thing as I don't need to be reminded of the poison.

I heard back from C, thankfully the answer was yes we can still work together. Now I just need to figure out how I would like to proceed... email or phone sessions.

Phone sessions are more helpful. Emails are easier. I need more helpful. I want easier. I'm afraid I will sabotage myself with phone sessions by not talking about what I need to talk about. I'm good at that. Too good I think. C is even better at not letting me though.

Aw fuck... phone sessions. I'm making a pact with myself not to sabotage, not to fuck around but to be real and talk about what I need to talk about.

Running On Empty

I feel like screaming. Yelling. Shouting. Breaking something.

I'm fucked no matter which way I turn.

I've been on my own for almost a year now. In that year I think I've undone everything C or T helped me do. I'm an emotional wreck that even the jaws of life couldn't save.

I'm scared to contact C again and ask for help, although I have figured out a way to pay for sessions... the good ol' tax refund. With that I would be able to have 10 sessions. I'm worried that I'll waste them, that I won't be able to talk after all this time has passed. Maybe I'll ask C for email sessions to begin with as I am better at writing my feelings and thoughts as opposed to verbalizing them. Or is that just a way out from my fear? I really don't know.

OK, I did it. I sent C an email asking if we could still work together.

Now I wait...

Money Matters

I'm annoyed.

I'm in a place where I need help but can't get it.

I can't afford it!

Thanks to the supposed boom in Alberta all of the free counselling services are overloaded and the waiting period is a minimum of six to nine months. What the fuck? It's no wonder the suicide rate is going up. The only way I can get help is if I go to the Psych ward at the University and hope they would accept me. In reality even if they did accept me I don't think it would - I don't and can't trust people right away and it would take a while to build trust to open up and talk.

I really don't know what I'm going to do. I have been very tempted to start self harming again because I know it would help me now, but I also know it will harm me in the long run. I read on a self help site to use ice or an elastic band on my wrist and snap it but neither works well or provides the relief and numbing effect I so desire. I'm not sure how much longer I can keep those urges at bay. The other night I almost did it in front of J but I bit my lip till it bled instead. I guess that maybe that is self harm, but not my chosen form of it.

My sister is fueling what I'm going through. We sold our lake lot and she sent an email telling me to be proud to be the product of a pedophile.

Ouch!

She was abused by him as well, but she doesn't know I was and I will never tell her. I'm ignoring her email by not replying but what she said is driving me insane and fueling the guilt that has built back up.

I have never looked at myself from that angle but I am the product of evil.

I am the product of a pedophile.

Fucking lovely.