Daily Rantics

You could be busy.

Or changing your life around.

You could be dousing out the same medicine I gave you.

You could be dead.

And I wouldn't know.

I wanted space. Because I couldn't separate our lives and focus on just my own. My mom says I'm foolish, that only mothers have the problems separating that I have.

I'm not your mother, although you deserve one, a good one. You deserve a loving and attentive mother and father, both of which you were robbed of far too early in life.

Nobody treated you the way you deserved, they didn't worry or guide you, I guess I felt I needed to. No. You didn't ask me, and no you never asked me to carry your troubles in my heart, but I did because I cared. Maybe I felt like you meant the world to me, and maybe my heart ached to see you thrown about like a discarded christmas card.

But I can't control the world around you. I can't make the bad things go away. I clouded my life for far to long, thinking our relationship was one of a two sided friendship, when in reality I was a crutch  and you were the soul that needed a lift.

Sometimes I needed you, and you weren't there.

Sometimes I wondered if you loved me as much as I loved you.... because it wasn't always apparent.

Always when you needed me, I was there.

I sheltered you, I fed you, I gave you everything I could.

I encouraged you to grow, because you ARE smarter than he thinks.

More importantly I loved you to a fault.

Sometimes I can be harsh. And I say things that hurt.  I am my mothers daughter, and no matter how much my mother loves me, she doesn't "get" every feeling I have, and thus sometimes throws me off as aloof. I did the same to you.

I know that hurt you. Sometimes I said things to hurt you deliberately because I was mad. That wasn't right, but I'm testy and anger fueled sometimes. For that I am sorry. I think I can be vindictive sometimes and its not a nice side of me.

In truth I felt abandoned by you. When I needed you. Even if you thought it was stupid, I still felt I needed you. And by the way, I only needed you. I didn't want anyone else.

Sometimes you just didn't get it. I needed you, because you are the ONLY family I have here. And I love my family. To a fault.

I bet you've felt the same feelings before. I bet you've needed someone but they've had other things to do, that perhaps were more important than you.

I know you felt unimportant a lot of your life.

I know you thought they didn't care....and I think you might have been right. I guess the question is, where are they now?  I could never say this to your face. The illusion that you were a priority to them was more comforting than the truth.

How dare you become second to a boyfriend or a girlfriend!
How dare you become homeless and no one care? You are not some trash to be discarded! Slipping you money here and there to pay for pizza doesn't account love! You should have never seen the four walls of that shelter! Because thats what GOOD parents do, they fucking shelter you.

You deserved SO much more. I knew it. I still do, but they don't.

So comes the point of this emotional fucking train ride of a blog post.

You've delivered me what you probably thought I wanted right? Out of your life.

But I didn't want that. I didn't want out. I wanted outside. Just for a bit.

I did exactly what everyone else in your life has done to you. Except you handled my exit differently. You hung on for a bit, but then decided I had made my mind up and you withdrew.

I suppose I never thought you would do that, since its not in your history to withdraw.

I wanted distance but I didn't want to be shut out. I didn't delete you from my phone and facebook, I didn't take you from my RSS feed, or even change what you could see and what you couldn't. Because I didn't want you to be out, I wanted to check up on you to make sure you were still alive.

You could be busy.

Or changing your life around.

You could be dousing out the same medicine I gave you.

You could be dead.

And I wouldn't know.

I am a pretty open person in this lifetime.

I share whatever you ask of me for the most part, and I don't hide anything, i.e. I wouldn't add someone to facebook and not let them see all my information available.  If you are a friend, and I am consenting to adding you to facebook, I am adding you because I trust you.  Not that you could take something from my wall and "gossip" all the other 100 or so people can see it too...sooo....yeah.

I do keep my blog to myself, and very select people, only because things that are in this blog could/would/absolutely would upset my family. I don't tell my mother the inner workings of my mind and quite frankly, I sometimes think she is either not listening to me when I tell her key integral things about my life, or she has early onset alzheimers.  I don't know which is worse either.

Last week I went to an interview at a self-help aliance placement for mental illness and I thought it was neat. They told me that in order to be a part of their agency, I had to have experienced mental illness in the past or I have an ongoing battle.  This was refreshing believe it or not. I spend  a lot of time and energy balancing my mental health, and often times I find that people react as if I have airborne siphilis or some shit if I tell them I do. You can't catch the crazies.  And also to add to that statement, I am not crazy.

So I told my mother last night about the interview and how I liked it and how I thought it was so cool they wanted only people who had experienced mental illness and she was like "oh well I guess you can't do that".  and I was like....your shitting me right? WHY? Because I seriously don't have mental illness? are you cray cray? I think shes the crazy one. Not me.

 I have spent the past THREE years sharing intimate details of my mental health with my mother, having diagnoses handed to me from the doctor and fed into her ears via telephone, and girlfriend didnt even think I had mental illness.  It took me a long time to even let my mother know I was on medication for the anxiety. Only because I knew she would overreact and I just couldn't handle that. I was on them a good six months before I told her that I was on them. I guess I secretly hoped that the meds would affect my internal digestion and I wouldn't be so anxious about telling her.

Secondly, on top of mild depression and anxiety, I have an uncategorized ocd disorder often caught between a war with tourettes and simple finger biting, or skin picking classification. I do bite my nails (but have been bite nail free since May 12!)  I don't tell people about this one often. Just because it is very rare and people just... just don't understand mental illness in the first place, let alone one such as mine.  I usually pick a disease or ailment that closely mirrors my illness and tell people I have that. Only so I don't have to explain the latin terms and the ingenuity of the disease.  Not to mention that there is no cure and that this is the rest of my life on a tarnished silver platter... I also think its gross and other people do too. I know it.


So why mention it now? to this group of people who read my blog and sometimes comment... why mention at all any innerworkings of my brain? Especially the most important part to me, which is the Kala with mental illness.  Because I have been slowly getting sick of lying to people.  I had a friend tell me I wasn't lying to people by not telling them every minute peice of information about me, but I feel I am because it is such a huge part of my life and I have a hard time opening up if I really am not, "opening up".  Sigh.

Regarless. Today is a growing day.

I also could really go for a nap.

K