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rantings you don't want to read

I just read the title of a blog that says, "She's falling apart." I feel like I'm the she.

I've been angry lately... over old things and it's disturbing my peace., making me wonder if I ever really had real peace... or just calm before the storm.

I've also been depressed. It's been near impossible to fall asleep. It's been hard to wake up. It's been hard to function the second I leave work.

I've been angry for the first time over the abuse I faced as 13 year old girl. I've been angry for the first time at the person who perpetrated it. I had been angry at myself. I had been angry at my parents and I felt nothing towards him. I never blamed him. I knew he was evil, but I never blamed him. I felt sorry for him. Sorry that he couldn't help being evil.

I once saw what I thought was a demonic face lung from his face while he was on top of me.. it's one of the few things that I remember in first person. Everything else I remember is me seeing myself. Quite possibly why I didn't make the emotional connection. I'm trying to remember if I begged for him to stop or not. I know the first time I did but that ended me up in more trouble so I don't remember if I even bothered to ask for help after that. I wonder if I was afraid that someone would find us and why I was afraid. I think I often hoped that someone would find us so I could be rescuded from him. But I don't know if I trusted anyone to save me.

Anyrate. I've been feeling anger - inner rage - directed toward this person who seems nameless and faceless like a ghost. like he ceased to exist. I often hope when I hear stories of sexual preditors that it's him so that way they can catch him or so that way his face is on the news and he's exposed for who and what his is.

I also hope that he's no longer that, but i don't know if he can change. I almost said or if any of them but I don't want to dehumanize him and turn preditors into "thems" into monsters. I don't think that helps anything. But maybe it might help me. SO damn logical. or illogical. But I always think and get fucked up when I feel. Sorry for my language. Sorry for doing the damn right hting all the time. But I hate when I'm emotionally out of control. I hate being lead by my feelings because they lead me to poor decions and bad places. They're my feelings I ought to be in control right?

Fuck it. I don't really know what to do about these damn feelings. I'm tired of cussing. I don't particularly like it on a female. Doesn't seem lady like. Not fitting for a Christian. Doesn't make me feel better. But it makes me feel. It makes me feel the feelings I'm surpressing. The bitter anger, the hurt, the wound, the numbness. I know that sounds silly. How do you feel the numbness. but sometimes I guess you feel yourself giving up.

I went to a therapist yesterday. Hated it. Bothered the mess out of me. But she told me journal so that's what I'm doing. I'm trying. But it fuckign pisses me off. What the hell?! You think all the fucked up stuff I went through in my life is going to be ok because I journaled? What the hell kind of quack are you?

I'm so reserved. I see myself struggling between the things I want to say and the things I really feel. I don't necessarily want to feel these things. And I don't want to cuss and be inappropriate. I want to be the good Christian. But right now I feel like I'm spewing out blood from internal damage.

I had a conversation with someone once where that person understood. I'm hurting quietly inside and no one will pay attention to me.

That fuckedup quack was like my parents. She wasn't paying attention to me. She was trying to hurry up and have me put on a happy face. I have a real good happy face with a beautiful smile. I have a ton of sily faces. I enjoy making faces because it's like I'm praticing being real and human like everyone else. A person who's in touch with her emotions and not shut off from teh world.

I think that's why I enjoyed being in love so much. I felt it and I even took in the bad. I'm kind of proud of myself.

The quack doctor didn't ask questions. She didn't listen. She just wanted to share her theories and she heard part of my story and decided to latch onto that. THAT wasn't what I was having problems. She didn't believe me when I told her I had worked out my issues with the part she was trying to analize. She also insulted the counseling that I had before.

So now I have to find a new doctor. I'm not wasting my time with her.

The reality is the reason why I don't liek journaling is because it's my same problem. Me alone with my thoughts. It's just me talking to my fucking self about the bad shit that's happened to me and I've been doing that same shit for almost 14 years. So what the hell is it going to do write it down. I don't want to write it down. So I feel better. That's who le God damn point. I don't fucking feel a thing. And now that I'm feeling my very first emotions, I'm supposed to keep them to myself.

I really need to do something to calm down because I have to try to go to sleep so I can get up and pretend that I'm ok tomorrow and work.

I wonder how much short term dissability pays. Part of me wants to get off my merry-go-round, and face my issues, but that's ugly and I can't jsut pull myself back together and go to work and be a good employee. I'm already at the fuck it. fuck you stage and there are some nice people there I don't want to spew my bad attitude on.

That's my other issue. I'm always thinking about the good of other people and rarely about myself.

That woman almost broke me down when she said start with "what about me" I can't ask that question. I can't ask that question because I don't like the answer to the question. I don't want to sound like or be a spoiled brat child. I never was one. Never had that luxury. I learned about self- sacrificing early in life and I don't know if it was right. But I suppose it was the Christian thing to do. My toothaches. I'm hungry, my head is trying to hurt and I need to try to go to bed.