My energy is very, very low. I'm losing a battle to take care of the world while retaining one ounce of sanity. As the one being in my life that is willing to get my hands dirty to fix a problem, my hands, and the rest of me, are filthy and I'm starting to resemble a mere shell of who I am.
People around me have stopped even trying. I am as lazy as the rest, but I know enough that a filthy house, pne broken with misuse, will not fix itself. Bitterness has sunken in, energy drawn, and I find myself unable to breath, unable to function, always angry, whenerever not alone. To each social function I bring the knowledge that I don't belong anymore, and with each drink, with each inhibition I lose, I realize I'm bored, and my environment does not change based on the amount of alcohol consumed.
As a financial prisoner in my own situation, I'm not yet sure how to fix anything. I no longer enjoy the people around me, nor do they enjoy it when I am around. My time at home, with people who cared for me once, has becom stifling, painful, riddled with anger and defense. And with each defense I make towards what I feel, and what I do, another brick is laid on the wall that that steadily grows between us. With the inability to take my issues and not turn them into personal attacks, I've started attacking.
Common sense isn't hard to come by. When a boat carrying all your belongings is floating away, do you stand there and trust that someone else will know what to do, and then do it for you, or do you care about it and make an effort. If everybody stood around waiting for someone else to do for us what we don't know how to do, the world would be still, unmoving. Yet I'm not willing to be the one in three people that move. The one in three to fix what goes wrong. I've been called a control freak, the person that wants that responsobility, but I don't want the work of three people resting soley on my shoulders. I shirk this responsobility, but even having openly thrown it, it won't slide off.
In taking care of what others won't, I've neglected myself. Hugely.
It was shown to me today that I have no real goals, no solid wants and no reason to be moving everyday.
I'm living to survive, and i am not surviving.
My new plan, my new want, is to live alone. Learn to take care of myself and only myself and see what I have left after that. Financially, I'm terrified, socially too.
I need, however, to get the fuck out of here.
People around me have stopped even trying. I am as lazy as the rest, but I know enough that a filthy house, pne broken with misuse, will not fix itself. Bitterness has sunken in, energy drawn, and I find myself unable to breath, unable to function, always angry, whenerever not alone. To each social function I bring the knowledge that I don't belong anymore, and with each drink, with each inhibition I lose, I realize I'm bored, and my environment does not change based on the amount of alcohol consumed.
As a financial prisoner in my own situation, I'm not yet sure how to fix anything. I no longer enjoy the people around me, nor do they enjoy it when I am around. My time at home, with people who cared for me once, has becom stifling, painful, riddled with anger and defense. And with each defense I make towards what I feel, and what I do, another brick is laid on the wall that that steadily grows between us. With the inability to take my issues and not turn them into personal attacks, I've started attacking.
Common sense isn't hard to come by. When a boat carrying all your belongings is floating away, do you stand there and trust that someone else will know what to do, and then do it for you, or do you care about it and make an effort. If everybody stood around waiting for someone else to do for us what we don't know how to do, the world would be still, unmoving. Yet I'm not willing to be the one in three people that move. The one in three to fix what goes wrong. I've been called a control freak, the person that wants that responsobility, but I don't want the work of three people resting soley on my shoulders. I shirk this responsobility, but even having openly thrown it, it won't slide off.
In taking care of what others won't, I've neglected myself. Hugely.
It was shown to me today that I have no real goals, no solid wants and no reason to be moving everyday.
I'm living to survive, and i am not surviving.
My new plan, my new want, is to live alone. Learn to take care of myself and only myself and see what I have left after that. Financially, I'm terrified, socially too.
I need, however, to get the fuck out of here.
VIEW 3 of 3 COMMENTS
someone has been housejacked.
I think you're great.
k bye,
Pie