Just a quick follow-up to my last post.
Things have calmed down now. The Experiment has been removed. Roommate has been very nice, especially after I pointed out what TWO GREAT, BIG, FUCKING WARRIORS HE AND HIS SON ARE FOR TEAMING UP ON A WOMAN!
Rammstein has a song, "Mein Herz Brennt". My heart burns. That's how I feel. I'm so angry I have Hecate's own heart when I think about what happened. Trust me, it comes to me over and over again.
The feelings of guilt and helpless anger are constant companions, too.
One addition I didn't expect was the feeling of when the other shoe is going to drop.
What is roommate going to do to get back at me? For causing such a storm? For DARE destroying his rest, when his ears are ringing, and the pain in his arm is unbearable, blah, blah, blah de fuckin' blah. SHUT THE FUCK UP!!!!!
As I'd foretold in my earlier installment, roommate hasn't threatened to kick me out, or sell my bike, or any of those things.
It's just quiet. Too damn quiet for my comfort.
As sure as there is yin & yang, black & white, I'll pay for this little episode. Just how dearly remains to be seen.
Tuesday, November 30, 2010
Sunday, November 28, 2010
I just had one hell of a meltdown.
I had just one HELL of an emotional meltdown. I'm writing this post to try to figure out why.
I'm taking my meds, just like I'm supposed to. The last couple of days I've felt out of energy, and when anything irritates me I way overreact to it.
In October, I lost my heart-dog, Jaws. He was a little black & tan chihuahua/ Pomeranian mix. I had the pleasure of his company for 12 years. I got him when I still lived in California, and he was with me when I moved to Texas. He was with me when I had to kick my ex out for cheating, when I lost my house, my car, and give my horses away. Jaws was always there when life was going good or bad. He always knew when I was on the verge of a meltdown, he stayed with me. When I was in the hospital following a suicide attempt, he stayed curled up on the corner of my bed, and didn't eat or drink anything until I got home. THAT'S LOVE. No one, not even my parents, ever loved me that much. Now he's gone, and I'm SOOOO lost.
I try not to let the world know how bad this hurts. I rarely cry, even in private, in case my roommate walks in. I think about him almost non stop.
You see, my roommate is in a lot of physical pain. All the time, 24/7, non-stop. He even has his own pain doctor. He's also diabetic. So everything is about "him". He constantly talks about his pain, the ringing in his ears, and a myriad of other complaints. He rarely, if ever, asks about me or about how I may feel about something. For him, I'm just a giant ear sitting there to absorb all of his complaints. It never occurs to him that that ear, like a bucket, may get full.
Today, things came to a diabolical head. My roommate's son moved in. What an inconsiderate FUCK that punk is. Oh, he's nice enough on the surface. Like most of us, he can get along in a social setting. Especially if that social setting includes illegal substances.
Son's been here for two or three weeks. He skulks around the house, leaving empty water glasses everywhere. He does stupid and maddenly irritating things, like putting the dishes away, but leaving the dirty dishes behind for someone else to do. If you ask him do to something, or about something, or even have a little chat, he's always trying to out think you, as if he's trying to figure out what game you're playing so he can beat you to whatever punch you're playing toward. He doesn't even need to pay rent; I was just expected to absorb his third of everything.
In short, to me, he's a little fuckin' creep and I just want him out of my life.
Since he's been here, he's been experimenting with things that I vehemently disapprove of. Of course, this has roommates blessing. I've tried logically stating my case to roommate, no avail. I've yelled, tried the silent treatment, etc. Nothing.
Today, it came to a head.
I started it. For some reason, I'd had enough. I walked into son's room and asked him point blank when his little experiment would be over. He said "a couple of months." I hit the roof. Then roommate walks in and starts screaming that it's none of my business, etc. So, I scream back. I finally, finally was able to release all of the pent up worry and anger I felt toward son and his bullshit.
Then son said "Fuck you, too."
Mistake. Big. Fucking. Mistake.
I got in his face, slammed the heal of my hand into his chest, and screamed "How DARE you talk to me that way? You don't ever speak to me like that!" And hit him again.
After that, it gets blurry for me. I completely lost it. Roommate and I screamed about money I owe him. Do I owe him? Yes. Am I paying it? Yes. But he tells me not to worry about it. Then he brings it up during this argument. I flat out called him a liar. Stormed away from him, and pulled out his gun to kill myself.
Roommate and I struggled with it. Even though I'm a fat girl, I don't think he realized just how strong a fat girl can be. He couldn't get it away from me.
Finally, stupid son yells out "Should I call the police?" I scream back, "Please do, and I'll be happy to show them your little experiment!"
With that, I came to my senses a little bit, and dropped the gun. Roommate took the gun, and then started throwing chairs at me. As I'm trying to deflect the chairs coming at my head, son starts holding me back. As he's holding me, roommate starts to hit me. He slapped me in the face, punched me in the stomach, and a bunch of other stuff that happened too fast for me to remember.
When roommate finally stopped hitting me, he picked up the gun and put one in the chamber. Son let go and I just stood there, looking at roommate. Roommate screams "I have one in the chamber, happy? Happy?" I just stood there, spread my arms and said "Shoot. Please, just shoot." PRAYING to whatever Gods were listening that he would.
Things have simmered down now, so here I sit. What's going to happen? Let me tell you. I'll be kicked out of here. Since I have no job, I'll be sleeping in the car, my dogs at a shelter. My dogs will be put to sleep, and perhaps by then I'll have succeeded in finally killing myself, having convinced the Gods that they made a mistake in having permitted me to live.
I wish, more that anyone could ever know, that this didn't happen. I wish that I didn't have to go so far to be heard.
Most of all, I just wish that I had Jaws back.
I'm taking my meds, just like I'm supposed to. The last couple of days I've felt out of energy, and when anything irritates me I way overreact to it.
In October, I lost my heart-dog, Jaws. He was a little black & tan chihuahua/ Pomeranian mix. I had the pleasure of his company for 12 years. I got him when I still lived in California, and he was with me when I moved to Texas. He was with me when I had to kick my ex out for cheating, when I lost my house, my car, and give my horses away. Jaws was always there when life was going good or bad. He always knew when I was on the verge of a meltdown, he stayed with me. When I was in the hospital following a suicide attempt, he stayed curled up on the corner of my bed, and didn't eat or drink anything until I got home. THAT'S LOVE. No one, not even my parents, ever loved me that much. Now he's gone, and I'm SOOOO lost.
I try not to let the world know how bad this hurts. I rarely cry, even in private, in case my roommate walks in. I think about him almost non stop.
You see, my roommate is in a lot of physical pain. All the time, 24/7, non-stop. He even has his own pain doctor. He's also diabetic. So everything is about "him". He constantly talks about his pain, the ringing in his ears, and a myriad of other complaints. He rarely, if ever, asks about me or about how I may feel about something. For him, I'm just a giant ear sitting there to absorb all of his complaints. It never occurs to him that that ear, like a bucket, may get full.
Know that I'm not a natural caregiver. Never have been. That's one of the reasons I never had children. I'm a selfish person, and selfish people have no business trying to care of other people, children or otherwise. Dogs are different. With them, once their needs are met, they have no problem making their whole day about YOU.
So you see, without Jaws, I have no one to talk to. No one that is CONCERNED when I leave the house. No one that watches me anxiously, even when I move from the living room to the kitchen. No one that just CARES.
Today, things came to a diabolical head. My roommate's son moved in. What an inconsiderate FUCK that punk is. Oh, he's nice enough on the surface. Like most of us, he can get along in a social setting. Especially if that social setting includes illegal substances.
Son's been here for two or three weeks. He skulks around the house, leaving empty water glasses everywhere. He does stupid and maddenly irritating things, like putting the dishes away, but leaving the dirty dishes behind for someone else to do. If you ask him do to something, or about something, or even have a little chat, he's always trying to out think you, as if he's trying to figure out what game you're playing so he can beat you to whatever punch you're playing toward. He doesn't even need to pay rent; I was just expected to absorb his third of everything.
In short, to me, he's a little fuckin' creep and I just want him out of my life.
Since he's been here, he's been experimenting with things that I vehemently disapprove of. Of course, this has roommates blessing. I've tried logically stating my case to roommate, no avail. I've yelled, tried the silent treatment, etc. Nothing.
Today, it came to a head.
I started it. For some reason, I'd had enough. I walked into son's room and asked him point blank when his little experiment would be over. He said "a couple of months." I hit the roof. Then roommate walks in and starts screaming that it's none of my business, etc. So, I scream back. I finally, finally was able to release all of the pent up worry and anger I felt toward son and his bullshit.
Then son said "Fuck you, too."
Mistake. Big. Fucking. Mistake.
I got in his face, slammed the heal of my hand into his chest, and screamed "How DARE you talk to me that way? You don't ever speak to me like that!" And hit him again.
After that, it gets blurry for me. I completely lost it. Roommate and I screamed about money I owe him. Do I owe him? Yes. Am I paying it? Yes. But he tells me not to worry about it. Then he brings it up during this argument. I flat out called him a liar. Stormed away from him, and pulled out his gun to kill myself.
Roommate and I struggled with it. Even though I'm a fat girl, I don't think he realized just how strong a fat girl can be. He couldn't get it away from me.
Finally, stupid son yells out "Should I call the police?" I scream back, "Please do, and I'll be happy to show them your little experiment!"
With that, I came to my senses a little bit, and dropped the gun. Roommate took the gun, and then started throwing chairs at me. As I'm trying to deflect the chairs coming at my head, son starts holding me back. As he's holding me, roommate starts to hit me. He slapped me in the face, punched me in the stomach, and a bunch of other stuff that happened too fast for me to remember.
When roommate finally stopped hitting me, he picked up the gun and put one in the chamber. Son let go and I just stood there, looking at roommate. Roommate screams "I have one in the chamber, happy? Happy?" I just stood there, spread my arms and said "Shoot. Please, just shoot." PRAYING to whatever Gods were listening that he would.
Things have simmered down now, so here I sit. What's going to happen? Let me tell you. I'll be kicked out of here. Since I have no job, I'll be sleeping in the car, my dogs at a shelter. My dogs will be put to sleep, and perhaps by then I'll have succeeded in finally killing myself, having convinced the Gods that they made a mistake in having permitted me to live.
I wish, more that anyone could ever know, that this didn't happen. I wish that I didn't have to go so far to be heard.
Most of all, I just wish that I had Jaws back.
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