Wednesday, May 2, 2012

Why bother saying anything?

Because antidepressants don't work when I need them to. If I take them as prescribed, they turn me into a docile zombie that can't think for herself. I'm still just as sad, but I just can't connect to it so that I can work through it and let it go.

I need something instant, and there's no such thing that isn't some kind of illicit drug. I wouldn't do that. So here I am with the need to purge myself of some unpleasant thoughts.

I wish that telling these stories from my life would make people a little more understanding and maybe accepting of me, but there are few people who think about people outside of the tight little circle that they create for themselves.

Many people look down their noses at me, likely for no good reason. I can only think of one person who would have a legitimate reason, but as for the rest? No solid causes.

Yesterday I became so nauseated at midday that I was almost crying by the time I got to the office. I had been sitting down because of the stabbing pains in my abdomen. I nearly begged for someone to find me a sub so that I could go home. I haven't missed a day since October. I have 132 accumulated sick days.

I was met with scorn and told that I was not allowed to leave for that one hour. There were nearly three hours left in my day, to be honest. Almost half a work day.

One of these people who denied me the help I needed often says ugly things to me for no good reason. On my 38th birthday, she asked me how I liked being old now. Not happy birthday. What's with the nastiness? I guarantee my 38 wasn't anywhere near as old as hers was 20 years ago.

But as I've said before, I learned not to hope for help. When I ask for it, I get a resounding NO anyway.

Maybe these horrible true tales I tell will simply provide a concrete reason to justify their behavior toward me.

Blame the victim.
Blame the survivor.
Blame the one who is still trying to find one good reason to continue.

But please forgive me. I know that I'm like a grey cloud raining on your perpetual party. I wish I could have seen things from your perspective. I really do.

Perhaps someday things will turn around and you'll get a personal view of the world I've been trapped in. I think it will help you grow as a person, and maybe learn to be kind.

By the way, thanks for the lovely collection of knives. They shined up beautifully once I pulled them out of my back.

This would be a perfect time for that much-needed hug. It would keep me from going into full shutdown mode. But I knew it wasn't a serious offer anyway. It's ok. It was a sweet thing to say.

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