They Came From Everywhere

I'm fucking mad. And the worst part is that I'm more mad at my 80-something grandmother than anyone else. She's a saint of a woman who gives me attitude about everything (or so it feels) and throws away things without asking anyone who actually lives here.

She started cleaning out our fridge, to actually wash it but left bins full of yogurt and sandwich meat out on the floor and the meat was barely cool when I found it. Because my dad left us I'm being forced out of my home of 15 years and relatives have come pouring in to help clean and pack our house. Well, apparently that means throw everything away that we probably won't miss. And leave odd boxes of things in halls and doorways.

Nothing But Blood and Tears.

I've got a fresh cut on my arm. I think it's to punish everyone who hurts me.
I had plans to take Jackie with me to a progressive dinner tonight which would be hosted by three of BYU's museums. Tickets were required by free and available at the door. Then I read this morning that tickets were all taken. So I resolved to take Jackie to the Museum of Paleontology during the day instead. Right on!
Mom said we couldn't go until she had a chance to ask my dad if he wanted to take her anywhere today. [me: I don't appreciate her making my present-but-absent dad a priority]. She said we could just go tomorrow if they ended up going out today.
Strike 1.

When we get home from picking up Jackie Dad is showering. And when he's dressed he makes plans with Mom to taker her and Jackie to a buffet where they get an old person discount.
While I'm putting Jackie's freshly brushed hair into pigtails she moves past silly and starts scratching and biting me. I try to insist that her behavior not be rewarded with a trip out with her grandma and grandpa but Mom wrangles Jackie into a coat and out the door saying that I get a break! [me: awww you shouldn't! Seriously, you shouldn't reward her behavior. Make her stay home!]
Strike 2.

I proceed to turn over the end table next to me that is covered in hair accessories and who-knows-what. As I storm off, I have to go back to get my iPad and jacket (with phone in pocket) and take the liberty of knocking over Jackie's little plastic lawn table covered in plastic food. At the landing by the front door is Jackie's little backpack of toys and snacks, so that has to be thrown, too.
Once in my room I slam the door, lock it and start crying aggressively on my bed and grab a razor from the top drawer next to my bed and push the razor hard into my arm. Of course that does diddly squat so I cut myself properly and then again in the same line to get some blood.
I'm crying so hard and it isn't even cathartic. I'm just angry and messed up and there is no way to help people treat me better. Anyone who knows me can attest that I'm kind and giving and warm and loving. So why the hell doesn't the Golden Rule work here? Did I forget to sign up for that plan in Heaven? Did I miss open enrollment?

Shortly after I stopped crying, and while writing this entry, my brother came down.
"I couldn't help but overhear, with my ear to my door, that you yelled something about scratching and biting. Is there blood?"
"Not from Jackie."
"Are you okay? Do you need a noogie machine?"
"For Jackie?"
"Yeah."
"...doesn't matter..."
"Okay, let me know if you need anything."

So then I started crying all over again, because I love my brother so much. Despite his lack of affection, he really does love me.

I can't believe people in my condition can't get proper care.
See this great article from Cracked.com about what's wrong with America's mental healthcare system.

Homicidal with a side of Calm

2pm: Catherine asks me to take her dog for a few months. My dad was never fond of taking in visitors, even before his worst changes. My mom wouldn't even weigh in on the dog issue and suggested that I could at least ask my dad. 
2:10: Gently, gingerly, explain to my dad that a long-time friend needs me to take her dog for a couple months. 
"No," he butts in before I get any farther. 
"But you didn't even hear the details." I contest. "It will stay outside except at night when it goes in a kennel and she's paying for everything it needs." 
After some silence, "Well?" I probe. 
"Are you done?" he confirms. 
"Yeah." 
"No." 
"Why not?" 
"No." 
"So you don't have a reason?" 
"We're conversing and I didn't want that!" 
"You say you love us but you really don't show it." 
"I'm done." And he leaves in a huff (after pushing through my legs to get past the desk). 

I recounted the conversation to my mom and stressed that he needs to be taken into treatment against his will or at least have a family intervention. She doesn't support that idea. 
I ran downstairs crying and took away the power cable and Ethernet connection from my dad's computer (when he left he took laundry to the laundromat because he refused any sort of solution to our broken washing machine), then warned my mom to prepare for Hell. She asked what was wrong and I screamed in my rare demon voice (just sounds that way because I was so loud and angry), "Nothing! We have perfect fucking lives!" I proceeded to slam my bedroom door, lock it and lose my shit (tears, hair pulling, snot nose, uncontrollable sobbing noises). 
My mom came downstairs to check on me and apparently only cared that I try to hurt myself. 
I kept screaming at her to go away. I don't even remember the conversation. It is now 2:50pm. 

While she was running errands this morning I sent her a cute "I miss you" text and she just barely got it after all the screaming!!! She replied "I miss you, too. Want me to come talk to you?" 
I ignored the message and she came down anyway so I had to explain that I sent that while she was gone this morning!!!! 

I don't know what Dad is going to do when he sees that I have interfered with his cozy hidey hole. Heaven forbid he have a conversation that he's not comfortable with!

I want to kill my dad, then Mom will get Social Security survivors benefits and I can take care of Catherine's dog. 
AND YET I still can't get inpatient help for myself. Not in Utah, anyway. 

PS

I fucking suck at harming myself.
Nobody ever takes me seriously.

Screw-up

I can't do anything right. I CAN'T do anything right. I can't do ANYTHING right. I can't do anything, right?

Fucking Paradise

I have to tell myself that self injury will not do a blessed thing to improve my situation. Then again, I have control over the method, severity, etc if I hurt myself. I have control over so little in my life, with no car or license, no job, no "dependents" or significant other, or pets.
I have no control over how my dad treats his family, myself included. I can't even decide on the most adequate adjective for him.
How do I even process my emotions?

#$%&^%!@*^@%&*%$##!@**^$@!@#%&*(**&&^%^@!@$^*%^#^##@@#

I can't fucking process it!

More later.



Maybe.

Update

I keep meaning to write. Really, I do.
I haven't had crippling episodes of depression lately but I'm desperate to get outside of my own head. I can't stand it in there.
I've been working out 1-3x per week since mid-January. Sometimes with my mom at the Orem Fitness Center on an old stationary bike, and sometimes alone at UVU in one of their open rooms.
At UVU I use a leg press weighted cable machine, and bicep curl weighted cable machine(preacher curl).
I track my activity 24/7 with a Fitbit One personal fitness tracker.

 I was doing well at tracking my food too but stopped because it got depressing and shameful.
I ordered a bike from Walmart.com for home use. It was $124 before tax. It will be available for pickup either Tuesday or Wednesday(my 25th b-day is the 13th!).

As for dating... I keep thinking that I've finally found someone who understands me, then they lose my number(if you know what I mean). A couple weeks ago I went to a movie(The Hobbit: An Unexpected Journey) and had a blast. This guy is sweet and perfect for me. After the date he told me that he thought he was ready for a new relationship but actually isn't. We still text, though. I think there's a real possibility of something nice with him.

I'm starting to think that I'm making myself mentally sicker than I am. Because, how else am I supposed to get any attention? Do I have to pretend to be sicker so that someone will care? I'm not a good actress and pills will come up in toxicity screening tests.

I started new classes at UVU last month. They give me something to do but I'm finding that they don't occupy me enough. I still have too much time to think and be responsible for my own thoughts and actions.

I Can't Be Successful

I was feeling proactive a couple minutes ago, browsing job openings through Utah.gov when I found a listing for a "Teacher Assistant/Preschool Aide", detailed as follows:

Teacher Assistant / Preschool Aide is needed for a Lehi educational institute. 1 position available @ 6 hours per day; $8.37 an hour; beginning December 10, 2012, Non-contract, No benefits. Provides assistance to teachers and administrators in the daily operation of the schools. Performs assigned tasks such as monitoring student assignments, data entry, grading papers, reviewing homework, filing, copying, sorting, answering phones, and other assignments. Works one-on-one or with groups of students. Substitutes for teachers and assists in maintaining order in the classrooms. Maintains a reserve of prepared material to be able to take over in an emergency. May record student activity like attendance, sick student processing and other office assignments. Qualification: Must have high school diploma or equivalent. The school requests that this individual have the ability to communicate effectively with students, parents, faculty and staff, have the ability to get along well with others, have good organizational skills, and be able to work under stressful situations. Word processing skills, computer skills, telephone skills, filing experience preferred. Must be able to substitute on a regular basis.

I thought that sounded great! Then I got hung up on the fact that my oral health is quite off-putting to others, which is a big reason nobody hires me to work directly with people.
I had a plan. I had x-rays done at a great clinic in Provo and after 3 surgeries(one for extractions, one for bottom root canals and crowns, and another for top root canals and crowns) I would get to have partial dentures made. I would finally have my pretty smile! That was in August right before I quit working at Teleperformance. I had to cancel the first surgery and let them know that I had left my job and didn't know when I'd have money for the procedures.
If I go through Vocational Rehabilitation to have the dental work done, the most I can hope for are extractions and possibly root canals and crowns non-sedated, no replacement teeth. I'm too depressed to even ask for the help. I wouldn't even want to get involved in something that I couldn't afford transportation for. I don't get my student loan or bus pass until January.
Everything will be better then. I'll have a new laptop for academic and leisurely pursuits, money to buy groceries and gas for myself and to help my parents a little.
I have a follow-up appointment with my case worker at Wasatch Mental Health's Wellness Recovery Clinic to work on my Workforce Services case to get Medicaid and food assistance.
On Friday I have an appointment with my intern therapist, Joan. My main homework from last time was to work on diaphragmatic breathing exercises. I did good for a few days after the last session but have since forgotten. I will double-check my notes from two weeks ago to see if there's anything else I can do to look good when I see her again.
Next Monday my mom and I get to pick up more food from Community Action's food bank. On November 5th(our second time there) the worker who authorizes families to receive assistance said we could only come once a month for the next three months(Nov, Dec, Jan) and not sure what she said about after that!

Last night the president(Emma C.) and first counselor(Elayna B.) in the Relief Society Presidency of my Young Single Adult ward came to check on me since I haven't been seen in about a month. Our ward raised $16,000 at an auction they ran to benefit families in the Timpview Stake for Christmas. Apparently tonight and possibly the next couple Mondays we'll be shopping and putting together packages of gifts for families in need. I know it sounds petty, but I don't think I'll be able to bear that sort of thing; shopping for Christmas gifts and not getting anything in return. Maybe blessings, but my distaste for my YSA ward could get me in more trouble than any blessings would get me out of. My faith is staggering.

Sorry for the sourness all the time.
On the upside, Jackie is moving back to Lehi as I type! She is 2 1/2 years old and has been gone for nearly one year, taken away by Kenzie and her dad. For the majority of this time she has been living in Maine with Kenzie and her grandmother. We all got to Skype with her ONCE when she was mostly distracted by her pizza.
They left Maine yesterday afternoon and stayed the night in Albany, NY and plan to stay in Toledo, OH tonight.
Kenzie is gonna let us watch Jackie at our place while she and the grandma get settled.
And on that note I bid you ado.

Do You Feel Safe?

That's something I get asked often when I am experiencing deep, violent depression. And right now the answer is "not as safe as I'd like to feel". It's like I'm in a paintball battlefield and just barely dodging shots, taking temporary refuge behind a junk car or small boulder.

I took my probiotic supplement and Citalopram(Celexa) today. I still want to be accepted for inpatient treatment.
One of the ER doctors who got stuck with me(October 31st, 2012 at Timpanogos Regional Hospital) authorized me to take Clonazepam(Klonopin) twice daily to get rid of the harmful thoughts until I could see my regular medication prescriber to discuss adjustments. Well I had that appointment on November 6th and no changes were made. Then I saw my therapist, Joan, on the following Friday and it was only reiterated that I knew how to stay safe, call CRISIS or go to an ER if I didn't, etc.

This is awful.

Lately I often picture in my head wearing the patient clothing that some hospitals give their psych patients to wear during their stay, wandering around a nearly deserted ward in the middle of the night, staying out of sight of the nurses on watch, and because I'm so dramatic I have an IV bag hanging on one of those wheely things dripping liquid into my pale arm(or rather the veins inside).

It's really hard that nobody really reads my blog. Nobody knows or cares about my pain.
I'm not screaming for help; that didn't work for three days straight when I tried recently.

It's more like I'm sobbing and whimpering.

So Much Hurt [trigger warning]

I feel nothing. Well, except for the diarrhea caused by not taking my "digestive health" supplement(Digestive Advantage probiotic) and only eating Honey Nut Scooters, a quesadilla and a whole crapload of M&Ms.
My body hates me. I hate me. Everyone I date hates me. Members of my church who know me have every reason to hate me but I guess they just think I'm an awkward girl who needs some fellowshipping.(That's a weird-looking word but I'm not gonna completely re-write my sentence to avoid it!)

 Isn't it fitting(rather the only sweater that fits) that the fat girl's biggest and currently only wearable sweater points out the obvious? Ugh.

 I need to get used to straight-on photos because people see my that way and not from a foot above and off to the side, just at the angle that I am comfortable with.

Can you see in my eyes that I'm hurting? Or that my body is no longer in proportion to the size of my head? I see thin lips, a fat face, dark marks under my eyes and a masculine nose.
I'm so vulnerable.
I thought Jeff was so good for me. He made me feel wonderful. Then, without a word, he figuratively discarded me like a used condom.

One of the things I think about when considering suicide is that, aside from funeral expenses, I would no longer burden my family and community. Also that Utah may have a shortage of the only people strong enough to lay my body into a casket -- body builders.

I forgot to mention that I've been taking my generic Celexa very inconsistently lately. And my sleeping schedule is worse than ever. This morning I went to sleep a little after 8am and woke up around 5:30pm and in the weeks prior I've been getting to sleep between 5-6am.
I hate my life so much! I know very well that so many other people, even in America, have it worse but that doesn't mean that mine is automatically okay!

^----[SO TRUE]----^

I started to cry while finding images to illustrate this blog. I also smiled a little because my WeHeartIt collection is full of cats.

I Hate Me

I am 24 years old.
I have stretch marks
and scars
everywhere.
I've never been pregnant.

Down, Down, Down

My therapist wouldn't see me today. She said I wasn't on her schedule. My appointment card contradicts her but I was upset that she wouldn't even deny me in person. I ate a small Oreo McFlurry to spite her. And a really crappy cheese burger.

Today is my day off but I'm working 5 hours to make up for time I missed earlier this week due to an anxiety attack. I'm scared that I'll fall apart at work and get suspended or fired.

Oh, Mother.

My mother woke me up this morning to ask how I was feeling. "Still sick" was my irritated reply.
Her follow-up was "Are you going to work?" That was far more bothersome. Just yesterday she expressed her concern that I had been missing too much work, which had only one real consequence to me, and that was a smaller paycheck. To her, though, she not only worries that I won't be able to afford the $200/mo rent that I pay, but that my employer will fire me for missing so much work. I realized recently that my income is roughly the same as my mom's and dad's combined. Their only income is from retirement, social security, unemployment.
So my mother has three consistent concerns with my life: money, men, and mass.
I just have to clarify that I wanted to use an M word for fatness/obesity and that's what I came up with.
Yesterday while en route to my Weight Solutions group at WMH I tried to open up to her about a guy that I have been emailing. The first question she always asks is whether he's LDS. That seems to be all that matters to her. I tried to tell her that religion does not make a man but she wholeheartedly disagreed.
There's so much I can't tell her. She's too closed-minded to not be offended and heartbroken.
I ran out of words. Bye for now.

confession

I talk in pink and this other guy talks in blue.


Friday, May 18th, 2012

I found out recently that you had been pursuing another woman and that crushed me

Oh, referring to my Facebook post?

Yeah

ok.

If that's all you have to say, I'm going to sleep

What am I supposed to say?

It doesn't matter, because, I'm asleep now.

Why are you so determined to be with me?

Zzzzzzz

Whatever. Forget I messaged you. Is not like you haven't been looking for other people too.

I've been looking because I know I can't be with you

Then stop bring all butt hurt...you're so damn clingy...

I will cut you bitch

No, you won't.

And now Wednesday, May 23rd, 2012

Do you feel better after threatening me?

I would never really do that. I've never threatened anyone before. I'm sorry about that.

Sure

:'(

I won't date you

I knew that long before I was homicidal

Ok

I need Monopoly back, btw

K

Enjoy fooling around with your friend that gives you stds

The reason I'm telling you this, is that tonight I took a too-hot bath and was afraid to ever get out because I thought it very possible that I'd frantically search for my razor blades when I got back to my room.

I think I'm just too exhausted for all that nonsense tonight.

Also, I think I could benefit from some inpatient time at my local psychiatric hospital but I'm 9 months short of qualifying for personal or medical leave at work.

What's the term for having the desire to cut another person's face to ribbons with a broken Sprite bottle? That's not the sort of thing I'd post on Yahoo! Answers. 

save me from me

I am currently experiencing a nearly-overwhelming desire to injure myself.
Apparently while I was busting my butt troubleshooting problems with Apple customers today, my family was tearing apart my room from floor to ceiling to make room for my CRT television to be taken out. By making room I mean, clearing a path to the tv from the door by throwing everything into a pre-existing pile of junk.
When I got to my room after making an after-work snack I barely had time to set my food down before freaking out and throwing a justifiable tantrum. I started throwing things into the hall then slammed my door very loudly and locked my door.

"What's going on? Are you okay?" hollers my mother.
"Does it sound like I'm okay?!" I reply.

And the parental figures start apologizing and making excuses and passing blame. When I keep yelling at them they say goodnight and go back upstairs.
Then?
Then I yelled "I will NOT have a good night! You messed with my shit!!"

I'm not sure if they heard that or not but no one has been available to sooth me.
I'm so utterly pissed.
I want to show them how seriously upset I am by staying locked in here all day tomorrow but I can't miss work... ughh.

There's too much going on.

My favorite sister(also the only one I'm currently on speaking terms with) is trying to move up here from Phoenix with 4 kids and 2 dogs and no financial setup to speak of. And everyone is relying on me to find her somewhere affordable to live.

Is it time to die yet?

Today my Travis changed my medications(at my request). I was running out of my Pristiq(for Depression) and Travis was completely out and it would have taken at least 6 weeks to get any into the office so he ended up prescribing the generic Celexa. I didn't like my Insomnia medication either so he put me on generic Ambien. That's $17 a month for an unemployed girl and her unemployed parents :(
I'm really dreading the transition period while my body not only withdraws from the old stuff, but gets used to the new stuff as well.
Oh, and on Friday morning our family of 4 is going out to Roosevelt for the weekend. Among other reasons, my premature niece is turning 1 year old.

fatty deposits

I'm kinda depressed. And you'll never ever guess what it is this time.

(It's cuz I'm fat.)

I'm going on a secret date tomorrow.

(He's not LDS, or white, and LOVES SEX)

So I'm trying to pick out something to wear. And it was really upsetting that my Plan W didn't fit. It's a tee shirt that I got with a special order of AAR's Move Along(2005) and due to a mistake I got a shirt that would fit two of me. Now it fits really tight. Displays every curve as if I wasn't wearing anything at all.

I ended up with a humongo tee and flannel shirt from my collection of clothing that Kenzie left here. And the humongo shirt fits me decently. It doesn't really hide anything, though.

So now I'm listening to my whole Eminem collection.

(after downloading a discography and deleting the stuff that I ended up not liking there are 11 songs left)

I have to take three buses to get to Sandy to meet Mike. It'll take 2 hours from the time I catch the first bus to the time I get off the third.

Also, I don't have a doorknob on my bedroom door right now. Eric took off the old one to put in a new one that locks with a key but we lost part of it.

I wanna scream.

[When you click image #s 1,2,4, and 5 they get BIGGER]

Fat.

While I was in the bathtub today I noticed something. Actually it's been haunting me terribly lately how much weight I've gained. I know I've always had "extra". But it's gotten ridiculous. I'm 5' 9" and dangerously close to 200 lbs. It's getting much harder to conceal my tummy. In the grocery store today my mom and brother remarked how I "don't care what other people think", because they both prefer loose shirts and sometimes, more often than I'd like, my shirts don't hide the size of my belly.

Back to the tub, I was noticing more stretch marks on my thighs. I've always had them, since puberty hit, but there are more now. On my thighs, hips, tummy and even a couple on my upper arms. Never any on my breasts. Those don't grow.

I haven't heard from Trevor for a week now. After about 5 days I thought maybe my phone was to blame. Because it has refused to send or receive texts with a certain different person before. Then I emailed him. No luck yet. :(

Crazy Lady Tests

Disorder	Rating
Paranoid:	Moderate
Schizoid:	Low
Schizotypal:	High
Antisocial:	Low
Borderline:	Very High
Histrionic:	Moderate
Narcissistic:	Moderate
Avoidant:	High
Dependent:	High
Obsessive-Compulsive:	Moderate
-- Personality Disorder Test -- -- Personality Disorder Information --

Disorder	Your Score
Major Depression:	Very High
Dysthymia:	High-Moderate
Bipolar Disorder:	High
Cyclothymia:	Very High
Seasonal Affective Disorder:	Extremely High
Postpartum Depression:	N/A
Take the Depression Test

Advanced Global Personality Test Results

Extraversion |||||||||||| 50% Stability |||||||||| 36% Orderliness |||||||||||| 50% Accommodation |||||||||||||||| 70% Intellectual |||||| 30% Interdependence |||||||||||||||| 70% Mystical |||||||||||| 50% Materialism |||||||||| 40% Narcissism |||| 20% Adventurousness |||| 20% Work ethic |||||||||||||| 60% Conflictseeking |||||| 30% Need to dominate |||||||||| 40% Romantic |||||||||||||||| 70% Avoidant |||||||||| 40% Anti-authority |||||||||||||||||| 80%

Wealth || 10% Dependency |||||||||||||||| 70% Change averse |||||||||||| 50% Cautiousness |||||||||||||||| 70% Individuality |||||||||||| 50% Sexuality |||||||||||| 50% Peter pancomplex |||||||||| 40% Histrionic |||| 20% Vanity |||||| 30% Artistic |||||||||| 40% Hedonism || 10% Physicalfitness |||||| 30% Religious |||||||||||||||||||| 90% Paranoia |||||| 30% Hypersensitivity |||||||||| 36% Indie |||||| 30%

  Take Free Advanced Global Personality  Test
Personality Test by SimilarMinds.com

Effin' Pizzed

I'm listening to my "angry grrrl" playlist on Myspace. I think my music playlists are the only reason I still log in to Mahspace. I can't get the video to go BELOW my words. --_--

Anyway, my mom and I got into mad moods about me dying her hair. So I went to see my friend Shmarah because I just found out she's been really depressed for a long time. It felt great to catch up about her and talk to her about myself. Then I gathered the courage to confront Shmitch about him ignoring me for several months, despite our supposed relationship. I'd like to think that he was terrified to see me when he came to the door. Hahahahahaha!! >:D

I got right to the point. I got the answers that I needed. I told him that I felt that I deserved attention and he said he agreed. Then I reminded him that "I live right over there" if he ever wanted to talk again. Seriously, his next door neighbor shares a fence with our backyard.

I'm upset that he didn't bother talking to me at all for so long and that I had to go so far as to ambush him at home. Tsk tsk.

I think I need to go do some therapy exercises or something.