6:26 p.m. - 2011-07-22
Mostly on things I *need* like glasses that aren't rusting off of my sweaty face, and a new bed for Dorian, and new Tshirts for Julianne because she RUINS EVERYTHING..
And then I feel all rich, cuz I you know, can actually PROVIDE for my children and myself and it's not a goddamn struggle..
And then I buy a bunch of books. And a CD. AND A GODDAMN NETBOOK.
And then I'm sitting here back to being almost totally broke.. I mean not really really, but almost. I still have money for cigarettes, so not all is lost.
But my list of things I want keeps getting longer.. along with the things I *need*...
I had a dream last night that I opened the door and Ceej was standing there.. only it was Ceej circa the purple and yellow van (did that van have a name other than CJ's Van?), not Ceej circa last weekend..
I don't remember what happened after I opened the door. Useless dreams.
Im here, writting in this lil box, because I can't read anymore about PTSD. You know why? Not cuz it's scary or whatever. Not cuz I'm freaked out by what may or may not happen.
I have to stop because it sounds oh so goddamn familiar. All. Of. It.
Now, you might be asking yourself a question, and I imagin if you are, then its the same fucking question Ive been asking myself all day.
Nowhere, in all my reading on this subject, have I found any case of someone being born with this mental illness. Nope. Nottaone.
So how is it that my earliest memories are echoing all of these goddamned 'symptoms'? Did I give myself this by stuffing something? Or did I get it from living with Darryl and Mom in Seaforth? When I was channeling Wednesday Adams? And pretended I was sleeping in a coffin, because I felt dead inside?
Wait, what? Oh right, yeah. Those Trisha Yearwood months... when I listened to that tape constantly, when I didn't ever EVER cry.. ever. I took on a bully at school and came close to kicking the everloving SNOT out of the girl.. because she was picking on my friend.. that's what I told myself, and everyone else. But it was because I wanted to kick the shit out of her..
There's a lot of secrets I haven't told you yet, despite blubbering away on this site for ten years.. jesus, thats a long time..
K so, I never sparred in karate, because I was afraid I would lose it on someone. I didn't join the army, because I didn't want to know everything about a gun and then be handed a gun to call my own.
I'm terrified of losing control.
So, take 27 years of those random angry moments, stuff them all. What happens? I end up screaming about something stupid. Something completely dumb.
Actually, before my kids, I screamed at CJ. Like when I lost it, he was the one standing right there and caught it. Ok in Toronto at that mall with the rent-a-cop? I YELLED at CJ to get in the damn car. When he was pestering Patrick to go through the window again at mark and ashleys wedding? I YELLED at him to shut the fuck up.
Seriously, what the hell is wrong with me.
I'm really never going to a shrink. Dland, you are my shrink. And consequently everyone who reads this are Shrinks-by-proxy.
You know what's worse than thinking you are certifiably(sp) crazy?
What's worse than thinking something horrible happened to you that you can't remember?
This is worse. Thinking that maybe nothing happened. Worst thought Ive ever had. Maybe it was just that I stuffed everything SO HARD that I gave myself PTSD.
And I've been randomly unloading on Ceej.
God what a horrible thought.