Self discovery

Everyone’s life journey is one of self discovery, even if it happens accidentally.

Today was an eye opener. I went to my old job to visit my old colleagues and their warmth was almost overwhelming. They missed me, they wished I were still there. For a moment, I felt wanted and needed. Most of all, I felt valuable.

The insane voices in my head pipe up far too frequently, especially when someone opens the door wide open by saying “you don’t have to go” when planning a get-together. Why, thank you for saying that I “don’t have to go” repeatedly. Yes, I understand, I don’t need to go because my presence has no value. The experience will not be enhanced by my presence, nor will my absence diminish it either. Or perhaps my presence isn’t really wanted. Is that why you’ve told me that more times than I can count?


The bottomless pit of despair.

So many thoughts, so many doubts. Unending need to just run.

On my drive back from my daughters swim class, I sped. This is not unusual for me. I began to wonder why anything less than 40 mph was too slow, regardless of the speed limit posted. I began to analyze my thought process and came to the conclusion that I want to run away. Leave the job, the family, even the kids. Just run. Never to look back.

What am I running from? The job, although annoying, is not bad at all. The family loves me and I love them, so there’s no need to run from that. The kids are wonderful, again, no need to run from them, either. That leaves me. I’m running from myself. My thoughts. My doubts. My need to be the center of the world. Which disgusts me.

I want to look in the mirror and just tell myself to get over it. I hate being such a needy bitch.


Crazy ass bitches…

Why is it so difficult for some to understand emotional pain, emotional scars? Perhaps a point of reference is necessary.

For folks who don’t want to deal with “crazy ass bitches” please understand, we don’t want to BE crazy ass bitches. We’re broken. And yes, some of us have gone through therapy. For years, in fact. But there is no official manual for dealing with broken people, only a guide. And though the people who work in the field do the best they can, sometimes you can only put a bandage and say “I hope this helps.”

I am logical enough to say that my pregnancy hormones are making things far bigger than they should be, a pebble becomes a boulder, a single drop becomes a tidal wave. Yet, these issues, small though they are when I’m reasonable, are still issues.

My personal nightmare, my personal “horror” if you will, is being excluded.

I’ve been picked on when I was a kid, not full on “bullied” per se, but enough that when I see others being bullied, I feel their pain and can say “I’ve been there.” Ironically, my own crazy mother taught me not to care about that and to stand my ground. So, call me whatever names you will, and though it hurts, I can analyze and grow from it.

I don’t know what it feels like to be completely abandoned by those who are supposed to love you. I would assume its what I feel when I’m excluded times 100. Or a 1,000.

I was suffocated by my mother, trapped. To me, seeing others being invited and doing things that I want to do but being excluded (whether by accident or on purpose) is my personal hell.

Today, I blew up on a friend of mine via IM because she asked if my husband and eldest daughter would like to go with some friends to a haunted hay ride. Being used to being ignored and excluded (even if it really hurt) I only focused on my youngest.

To be fair, I must mention that this person loves my girls and would never intentionally hurt either one. But when I read the invitation included only my husband and eldest, my heart started to pound, my hands started to shake.

I calmly told her that he would probably ask the youngest if she’d like to go, too. “The exclusion thing, you know.” I don’t remember the exact words but her reply was something along the lines of “life isn’t fair and they should be individuals, not always together.” And that’s when things went down hill. Again, to be honest, her only thought was that perhaps it would be too scary for a 10 year old. Which is perfectly reasonable since the youngest doesn’t like scary things.

The point was the lack of invitation. Years of “you can’t do this because… you’re a girl, because you’re too young, you’re not enough this, enough that… Not smart enough, not pretty enough, not cool enough…” flooded over me. Years and years of being excluded from parties, events, for example. Not only in childhood but as an adult. Repeatedly having the door closed on my face. Not only metaphorically but literally, as well.

How does one explain this to someone who is constantly looked for? To the point that she gets annoyed by it? How can someone explain the emotional pain that comes from being shunned???

Judgmental, maybe?

So it’s been a little bit since I’ve been here. I’m 24 weeks now and looking forward to delivery. Baby is growing healthy and it’s quite a normal, uneventful pregnancy. Nothing less than what everyone expected.

What I hadn’t expected was the constant emotional turmoil. Constant crying, constant aching. I’m fully aware that it’s my hormones but I wonder if these thoughts/emotions aren’t the “truth” that I push aside with logic. Similar to my thoughts on people who are drunk. Being drunk turns off the filter, so words spoke are truth, actions taken are actions wanted, without the filter to make it stop. It’s hard core truth.

There is someone in my life whom I love very much but we don’t always see the same side. I am a firm believer that you shouldn’t do anything behind someone’s back that you wouldn’t do in front. Don’t get me wrong, I’m no saint. There are plenty of times when I say that I’d love to beat someone with a baseball bat. And I certainly wouldn’t say that to someone’s face, but I would find a way to soften my words and get my point across with truth.

So to hear that “what he/she doesn’t know, won’t hurt him/her” makes me wonder what goes on behind my back. I have my suspicions on how many lies I’ve heard, how many misdirections. What kind of ethics (or possibly lack of…?) does this person have? Is this someone I want in my life? In my family’s life?

But then I wonder “who am I to judge?” Are we not all marred with imperfections? If the overall package is good, then perhaps I should enjoy the good and ignore the bad…? Maybe?

The choice may not be mine to make, considering how my family has embraced this person. But the separation may be quick in coming, considering how less frequent visits have become. Perhaps it’ll go from a few times a week, to once a week, to every other week until no more. The separation would be easier, right? Begs the question: is slow withdrawal better than cold turkey?

What frightens me is whether this separation will take place before the delivery or after. After, I’ll be able to use logic to bury my emotions. Before… Would be far more painful. Each emotion is on the surface, difficult to control. After all, despite flaws, I still love…

Ah, the life of a reject.

There are days when the truth smacks you in the face and there is no way to pretend it’s not there. Today is one of those days for me.

I have tried not to lie to myself, even though I continually lie to others. Everyday, I reach out to people, make jokes, stay friendly, but at the end of each day, it’s no different from the day before. More often than not, I acknowledge the fact that I’m only spoken to when I initiate conversation, but today, it’s hitting me kinda hard.

Once again, I’m thrown aside, as the reject that I am. Today, I wonder if I were to die, if anyone would really care. Oh yeah, no doubt people would come and say “hey, she was kinda funny,” and then they would move on, not actually feeling any true loss. And that is beyond depressing. So I sit on my bedroom floor, trying to hide and shrink into the nothing that is my existence. Hating the world, and hating myself.

Cold from the outside in… Freezing from the inside out…

Random thoughts…

In my first post, I mentioned that when I was in school, I didn’t really know how to behave since my mother always told me what to do and what to say. I started to copy what others around me were doing. This behavior has followed me into adulthood. I never considered doing anything like this until I found out that someone I know does this. I’ve read her stuff and found it to be very enlightening.

After much thought and consideration, I came to the conclusion that I lack my own identity. How pathetic to be, or attempt to be, everyone else around me, never getting it quite right. I think the part has been played well since no one has ever called me on it. I’ll take it as a compliment to my acting skills. It’s not that I don’t know this, I did take an intro to psychology course in college. Freud would have a field day with me.

If I see someone fall, I look at it (the fall) as an observer might look at stars through a telescope, out of reach to control. I hope that makes some sense. Anyway, it wasn’t until people around be began to behave and comment “OMG, are you okay? Let me help you!!” that I realized my behavior was inappropriate. Normal people help other people, they don’t just watch.

It took time, but I began to think things through for myself. Actually, that’s an untrue statement. I came across people whom I thought were really amazing, with many friends, and wanted to be just like them. So I began to mimic their behaviors. (Did I mention this blog came about because a friend of mine had one?)

I don’t have many friends because I don’t have the social skills to be charismatic and captivating, but I do appreciate the ones I have. They are, as Simi would say, “quality people.”

People: Understanding vs Revenge

So.  There’s this girl.  And I want to beat her. With a baseball bat. Is that wrong? I haven’t done it. But I want to.  Since I don’t want to end up in jail, having to be Bobbette’s girlfriend, I’ll try to control myself.  With a name like Bobbette, she can’t be pretty.

It’s true that this “girl” has a hard home life. Her boyfriend isn’t top-quality-people and I think he’s hit her at least once/twice.  She has no control at home.  So she goes to work and is a complete bitch to her coworkers.  Oh, she does it sneaky like, behind people’s back, but she does it.  She does whatever she can so the “light shines on her” from her superiors.  She has “brilliant” ideas and is constantly “looking to improve processes, procedures, etc.”  She’s constantly smiling and whenever things go wrong, it was a “mistake,” completely “innocent.”  She loves gossip and so is “friendly” to everyone.  She smiles and confides things.  To everyone.

And then proceeds to lock things up to piss people off.  She turns equipment off just to irritate.  She’s even gone so far as to buy a toy that beeps–for the sole purpose of bugging those around her.  Is it me or is this a little childish?

How do I know these things are being done on purpose?  Because she’s told me.  Other’s have told me.  “Oh, she did that to piss so-n-so off.”  Today, she locked a computer up before she left for the day.  “Oh, she did that on purpose to piss someone off.  I don’t know who, though.”  I’m thinking it was a present for me since I was the only other person working on it today.

Some folks believe in signs, others do not.  I’m a scorpio.  According to ( scorpio tendencies include

sensitivity, together with a propensity for extreme likes and dislikes make them easily hurt,

quick to detect insult or injury to themselves and easily aroused to ferocious anger…

are not above expressing vindictiveness in deliberate cruelty
I am aware of these tendencies.  And, believe it or not, do try to be a better human being.  I try to think of things as learning lessons which allow me to grow into a better human being, for my own benefit and for the benefit of those around me.
Which brings me to my moral quandary:
  • a) be a better person and walk away
  • b) challenge her on it
  • c) beat her with a baseball bat
  • d) run her over with a bus
  • e) be just as sneaky and do simple things to piss her off, as well (like change her radio station.  She has a note on it asking people to not change it.  It would be something she would do!)


I know that a) and b) would be the better choices.  Logically, I am aware.  Deep within me, I want to do c) and d).  But since I can be vindictive, I’m inclined to do e).

Perhaps by the end of the weekend, I’ll have talked myself into option a).

Happy Thanksgiving.

(Just as an FYI, I did do a search for Bobbettes out there, wondering if any Bobbettes reading this would be offended that I said they wouldn’t be pretty.  I couldn’t find any.  Even when I tell myself that I’m NOT going to censor myself here, that I’m going to say it, whatever IT is: good, bad or ugly, I still don’t want to offend.  …sigh…)

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