Family Is Why I Was Crazy To Begin With

I moved back in with my family (not the psychopath) a few months ago, and the stress has been bringing me ever closer to relapse. It’s not that they’re horrible people, just that family aren’t always the most well behaved and often believe that they can get away with being disrespectful simply by virtue of being family. As well as refusing to treat everyone living in the house as adult equals, which we are, instead of as parents and children.

The ageism inherent in the parent-children false dichotomy is infuriating enough, but the sexism here is intolerable. I will not stand for it. The sexism sickens me, and the fact that everyone else either agrees with it or passively accepts it as a means to maintain peace within the family is deplorable. There is no peace with sexism. I will not quietly seethe with rage and passively encourage sexism.

They are telling me to stuff my feelings deep inside because it’s just not nice for me to call out sexism all the time.

Read that sentence again, I’ll wait.

I am so angry and it makes me want to purge. I want to purge. I want to purge. I want to purge. I want to restrict. I want to purge. I want to break things. I want to scream and I want to break things and I want to purge and I want to bleed.

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the Perks of Being a Wallflower

So many people like the Perks of Being a Wallflower. I decided to watch the film instead of reading the book and now I’m a disaster. Everybody talks about it being beautiful and fun and meaningful – they skipped over the horror. I don’t know how I was never exposed to the book as a teenager, but now I am grateful. I never would have survived.

I can’t stop crying.

I know why Charlie’s falling apart and it’s the same reason I’m falling apart now. How did nobody mention the god damn incest rape in this movie?!

Thank goodness I was watching this alone.

And thank goodness I didn’t pick up the book.

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Get Out of the Kitchen

So I’ve been hungry for hours, but I cannot eat because somebody has been in the kitchen all day. This particular somebody spends every waking moment sitting in the kitchen watching television. It’s as though this person is protecting the food from being eaten – not from me, but from everybody. Oh everybody in the house knows that I have an eating disorder. But ze is so fucking special that ze gets to sit in the kitchen all fucking day and all fucking night and it’s not ze’s fault that I cannot eat with ze sitting there all the time – because ze of course isn’t being hostile or intimidating to anyone who walks into the kitchen, nonono, of course not, why would you think that? 

So you see it’s my fault that I don’t just buck up and deal with it. God why am I such a baby, right? I mean, it’s not like I have a serious fucking eating disorder or anything! Oh yeah, but ze is so special and so important that ze gets to do whatever ze wants and I just need to stop being such an over-sensitive dramatic crybaby about everything. /sarcasm

I just want a bowl of soup!

ASSSSSSSSSSSSHOOOOOOOOOOOOOLE GET OUT OF THE KITCHEN ALREADY!!

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Entitled Book-Learners

So this article on yahoo basically says that college graduates are to blame for their poor employment rates because they expect to be able to get a job in line with their degree, get paid in line with their degree, and receive training for the job an organization is paying them to do. Apparently college graduates are little brats for expecting to be paid more than $25,000 a year simply for having a degree. You know, because it’s so damn easy to live off of less than $25,000 a year even without having to pay back student loans.

When your degree cost more than $25,000 a year, you bet you expect to get paid more. That’s not saying that graduates aren’t taking whatever job they can get – because they are. But apparently everyone with an advanced degree is an entitled little fuck because they expect *gasp* a return on their education investment.

This isn’t about “paying your dues” in the field either – because you’re certainly not getting into your field. This is about paying a premium for college only to end up folding sweaters part-time. “And you better be grateful for that, you entitled little shit. Who are you to think you’re better than everyone else who has to fold sweaters for a living just because you have some namby-pamby degree anyway? Huh?” Right, because working a job I could’ve had without going to college, after college, is totally fucking worth the investment. You’re right, I have absolutely no reason to be upset. After all, I brought this upon myself by being a little smarty-pants, book-learning college kid.

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They Shine With It

They Shine With It

I took a picture of this quote, from the book “She Left Me the Gun: My Mother’s Life Before Me” by Emma Brockes. I sobbed when I read it. Luminosity.

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Guilty for Eating

I feel guilty for eating because it costs my grandparents money.

My grandfather said “you eat too much,” when I told him I needed more money for groceries. I know that he didn’t really mean it, he’d never begrudge me food, health, or money (no matter what the money is for). I know that he was just joking, and he normally jokes about everything.

But now I feel so guilty that I eat, and that I likely do eat too much and that I just need to stop eating. Just stop eating, like I did before when I ate almost nothing and it cost almost nothing and I was almost nothing and it didn’t bother anybody. I feel like I don’t deserve to eat because I can’t afford it and I don’t work enough and I’m just a mooching piece of shit who eats too much. I mean, I know better than most people that you don’t need all this food to survive. I am a piece of shit because I try to eat like everybody else but I don’t deserve to because I haven’t earned it. I do nothing to deserve food. I do NOTHING. I am a failure because I cannot find a job to support my god damned food eating habit. I hate myself for eating. I hate myself for being such a fucking burden.

I know that he didn’t mean for me to think any of these things. I know that he would hate it if he knew how I feel right now. But I can’t help it, I am so ashamed. I SHOULD BE ABLE TO LIVE WITHOUT FOOD RIGHT?!

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I cannot escape my childhood

A friend asked me today how my parents washed apples for me when I was younger. I just told her how I clean my apples as an adult, and how my grandparents clean their produce. She kept asking about how my parents did it, and I was so frustrated because my “parents” didn’t do anything like that. I didn’t know that we were supposed to clean our produce before eating it until I moved in with my mother before going to college. My “parents,” who “raised” me – my father and his wife – they didn’t wash my apples for me when I was a child. It’s just another one of those tiny differences between how I grew up and normal healthy families. My friend just couldn’t understand how this most basic of childcare was denied me, and of course I was confused and amazed that parents actually do those sorts of things for their children.

I mean, I always made my own breakfast too (and for my younger brother if he wanted). It’s another one of those things that I learn makes me so different from many people. People just don’t understand how we kids were never loved, were never really parented, in that house. I took care of my brothers when they were ill. I cooked breakfast, sometimes even dinner. We lived in a middle-class subdivision, and went to good suburban public schools. We were latchkey kids. We were neglected and we were abused, and nobody would ever have believed it. I didn’t know that things could be different, and I keep learning all these stupid ridiculous small little things that families do – things that are supposed to be normal and universal in my cohort – things that we never had. Or things that we did, that we had to do, that are so foreign to others.

I don’t know how I could ever be normal when I don’t even know all the ways that I’m not normal. I started watching Modern Family and it always makes me cry, because they are a family. It hurts so much that I just couldn’t have a real family – all those things that families are. Seeing how much they love their kids, how proud of their achievements and caring when things don’t go so well. I feel like I’ll never have a family because I just don’t know how; I barely know how to have friends.

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