(no subject)
It's been a rough year.
The one year anniversary of my grandfather's death is coming up in just a week and a half, and it's made me think of all the stupid shit I've gone through. His death will always be the most traumatic part, as losing a mentor, a pillar of strength, the person I could rely on is difficult. And I haven't found anyone to fill that space for me. I love Chad dearly, but Grandad had all the answers. And no matter what I did, or what terrible, awkward predicament I got into, he was there to support me. He went to every recital I ever put on. He sat through a dry, horrid, two hour high school rendition of Our Town with a terrible back just to see the whole thirty seconds I was on stage. It didn't matter if I brought home an A or B, which sounds really fucking stupid to most people, but really mattered to my mother and grandmother. That one letter change would mean the difference between my family praising me quickly then leaving me alone til next semester, or months of badgering and stress because I got the second letter of the damn alphabet. But not to my grandfather. When I told him I wanted to pursue music for my life, he bought me my first instrument [even though I was a saxophonist and not a keyboardist, at least he tried]. I am certain that if he hadn't suddenly gotten cancer and died, my last year and a half would have been better just for him being there to comfort me and give me advice.
But he wasn't. And he couldn't be, and I'm selfish to wish he was when he was in so much pain. And so in the past year, I struggled through lying bosses and financial struggles. I lost my home, and I lost my best friend, even though I think I lost him a long time ago and just never realized it. I moved into my boyfriend's parents basement in an attempt to get back on our feet, but we didn't. Hours were cut, then only one of us was working and we couldn't possibly save up. I was trying to support both of us on a part time job, and that was without paying rent! Bills alone dragged me down. And then I got a full time job with excellent pay, and I was ecstatic. Until I started there and found out just who I would have to work with - day in, day out, an abusive, old woman with too many chips on her shoulders and this new young girl at work to take it all out on. And my boss didn't care, cause I was new, and she was his friend.
But now I think things are finally getting better. Chad starts working with the Canadian government in April, and I am still at that full time job, But the difference now is that I am fucking sick of life kicking my ass. I am fucking sick of people talking down to me because I didn't finish school. I am fucking sick of people making me feel like shit because of my body size. I am fucking sick of my coworkers treating me like I am less than a person because I'm young, and 'useless, like the rest of her generation'. I am fucking sick of having all these people who call themselves my friends, but after 6 months of knowing each other, just drift away and stop responding and stop caring.
I deserve better than this. I do. I don't even mean to sound holier-than-thou - I deserve some goddamn decency and respect in my life. I deserve friends who want to hang out with me. I deserve to walk down the street with my head held high and not looking like a victim; its ridiculous that something that happened nearly 7 years ago is still ruining my self esteem [not that I was great before then - highschool made sure of that].
Two weeks ago, I was at a bus stop, and I saw a group of fifteen or so teenagers holding a young woman down on the ground and beating the shit out of her. I called the cops, gave them directions, descriptions, but the group dispersed long before the cops arrived, and they took the victim with them, and there was nothing I could do. And I felt stupid, and useless, and I'm tired of feeling like this. So now I'm taking Krav Maga. I want to be strong. I want to learn how to fight. I want to learn how to respect myself. And I want to feel confident in myself and my body. Most importantly, and this is a huge thing coming from me considering how much I resisted it in the past: I want to change.
We're hoping to move out in June, and hoping even more to have enough saved up for a townhouse. On friday, I took my boss aside, and explained that what was happening was unacceptable, and together we are working things out so that I don't have to be miserable at what should just be a job. I have Ottawa Comiccon coming up in May, and Chad and I have VIP tickets. My childhood hero, Bruce Campbell, is going to be there, and when I meet him, I want to be this strong, confident woman. I want to look him in the eye and smile and carry on a normal conversation; I don't want to lower my head and get embarrassed and feel uncomfortable that I am not worth his time. Because that is how people make me feel now. That I am not worth their time. Chad tells me all the time, daily, that I am smart and beautiful, and every day, I tell him he is wrong. But you know what? He's not. And it's messed up that my life experiences have led me to believe that he is.
And I want to change that.
The one year anniversary of my grandfather's death is coming up in just a week and a half, and it's made me think of all the stupid shit I've gone through. His death will always be the most traumatic part, as losing a mentor, a pillar of strength, the person I could rely on is difficult. And I haven't found anyone to fill that space for me. I love Chad dearly, but Grandad had all the answers. And no matter what I did, or what terrible, awkward predicament I got into, he was there to support me. He went to every recital I ever put on. He sat through a dry, horrid, two hour high school rendition of Our Town with a terrible back just to see the whole thirty seconds I was on stage. It didn't matter if I brought home an A or B, which sounds really fucking stupid to most people, but really mattered to my mother and grandmother. That one letter change would mean the difference between my family praising me quickly then leaving me alone til next semester, or months of badgering and stress because I got the second letter of the damn alphabet. But not to my grandfather. When I told him I wanted to pursue music for my life, he bought me my first instrument [even though I was a saxophonist and not a keyboardist, at least he tried]. I am certain that if he hadn't suddenly gotten cancer and died, my last year and a half would have been better just for him being there to comfort me and give me advice.
But he wasn't. And he couldn't be, and I'm selfish to wish he was when he was in so much pain. And so in the past year, I struggled through lying bosses and financial struggles. I lost my home, and I lost my best friend, even though I think I lost him a long time ago and just never realized it. I moved into my boyfriend's parents basement in an attempt to get back on our feet, but we didn't. Hours were cut, then only one of us was working and we couldn't possibly save up. I was trying to support both of us on a part time job, and that was without paying rent! Bills alone dragged me down. And then I got a full time job with excellent pay, and I was ecstatic. Until I started there and found out just who I would have to work with - day in, day out, an abusive, old woman with too many chips on her shoulders and this new young girl at work to take it all out on. And my boss didn't care, cause I was new, and she was his friend.
But now I think things are finally getting better. Chad starts working with the Canadian government in April, and I am still at that full time job, But the difference now is that I am fucking sick of life kicking my ass. I am fucking sick of people talking down to me because I didn't finish school. I am fucking sick of people making me feel like shit because of my body size. I am fucking sick of my coworkers treating me like I am less than a person because I'm young, and 'useless, like the rest of her generation'. I am fucking sick of having all these people who call themselves my friends, but after 6 months of knowing each other, just drift away and stop responding and stop caring.
I deserve better than this. I do. I don't even mean to sound holier-than-thou - I deserve some goddamn decency and respect in my life. I deserve friends who want to hang out with me. I deserve to walk down the street with my head held high and not looking like a victim; its ridiculous that something that happened nearly 7 years ago is still ruining my self esteem [not that I was great before then - highschool made sure of that].
Two weeks ago, I was at a bus stop, and I saw a group of fifteen or so teenagers holding a young woman down on the ground and beating the shit out of her. I called the cops, gave them directions, descriptions, but the group dispersed long before the cops arrived, and they took the victim with them, and there was nothing I could do. And I felt stupid, and useless, and I'm tired of feeling like this. So now I'm taking Krav Maga. I want to be strong. I want to learn how to fight. I want to learn how to respect myself. And I want to feel confident in myself and my body. Most importantly, and this is a huge thing coming from me considering how much I resisted it in the past: I want to change.
We're hoping to move out in June, and hoping even more to have enough saved up for a townhouse. On friday, I took my boss aside, and explained that what was happening was unacceptable, and together we are working things out so that I don't have to be miserable at what should just be a job. I have Ottawa Comiccon coming up in May, and Chad and I have VIP tickets. My childhood hero, Bruce Campbell, is going to be there, and when I meet him, I want to be this strong, confident woman. I want to look him in the eye and smile and carry on a normal conversation; I don't want to lower my head and get embarrassed and feel uncomfortable that I am not worth his time. Because that is how people make me feel now. That I am not worth their time. Chad tells me all the time, daily, that I am smart and beautiful, and every day, I tell him he is wrong. But you know what? He's not. And it's messed up that my life experiences have led me to believe that he is.
And I want to change that.