FUCKING PISSED!!!
Think posative, please think posative.
I keep telling myself this...
Was in the middle of doing errands, and my family invites me to join them but I would have to be ready in like 3-5 minutes, when I haven't taken a shower yet, or gotten dressed yet.
They fucking taunt me, I SWEAR I want to fucking beat their skulls in sometimes.
Saw the therapist (keep thinking posative) and she is in the process of helping me sign up for social security so I can move out this fucking hell hole in Transitional Living Services for the Mentally ill.
I sat in front of her, telling her how much I am irritated with my parents.
Again, soaked clothes, I told her how badly I want to smash my head in... how it is so fucking hard not to.
She looked me over, found that I had some bruises on my head, and told me to stop.
She told me of a story of someone else who did the same thing, where they hit themselves too hard at some point.
They changed to the worsed, but I asked her wouldn't it be better to live in ignorance, to be taken advantage of but never to really know the difference.
She told me that I need to get out of my house, I need to be around people who are the same, who can understand.
She tells me that my parents are driving me insane, and that she needs to talk to my parents,to have them give her a call.
Talked to the Social security lady, she was cool.
Had a wound up Penis that she had next to her divorced husband, along with her daughter, kids, and pets in her office.
It was totally cool cause her daughted has Bipolar disorder and is on Social Security to help take care of herself as well as kids.
Talked to her, and she is confident she can take care of me.
Talked to my therapist before leaving and she told me that that she will help me the best she knows how, and that she was happy that I was leaving with a smile on my face.
She commented that it will not be healthy for me to get a job right now, especially seeing how the medication is only making me tired, which makes it even harder to control my spurts of anger.
On the way home I was happy, singing at the top of my lungs, smiling at how many emails I would be able to start sending out, making phone calls to people I love and haven't gotten a hold of for a while (including those who read this).
Then, I got home.
My mother just looked at me, a disapointed look on her fac.
My dad made the fucking comment after I asked them to show up for my next meeting, "We aren't the ones getting therapy, he is."
GOD FUCKING DAMN YOU FUCKING BASTARD!!!!
The meeting is to have fucking therapy for ALL OF US, to fucking get ALONG WITH YOUR SORRY ASS!!!!
This wouldn't have been a fucking problem if you had kept your fucking dick in your pants, this is fucking therapy to help us ALL get along, because it was you and mother that fucking brought me into this God Forsaken life.
I live every day wanting to trash you fucking life, to have you feel what I feel, the fear I have of talking to you, the fear I have of hurting you, because I fucking LOVE YOU.
Your my father, your the man who I always tried to do my best to make you fucking proud of me.
And here you are, making it seem like you don't need fucking therapy.
This therapy is just as much for you as it is for me
It is to help you both cope with the fact that I want to hurt you, that I want you to be as scared as I am to even speak a shred of a word to you, in the hopes of trying to get something from you.
Yes you have been there for me, yes you have tried to "walk me through" my troublesome part of my life.
I know you would have sat by me through the night to make sure I was ok, but you fucking turn your back to me.
You yell at me, you are agrivated at me, for me having these problems in my head
YOu get angry at me for making mother overly emotional, even though I have no fucking control over her feelings.
You get angry at me for making decisions, for making inside jokes about you never being home, by over exagerating the fact that you lived in a military life.
But you know what? I have fucking tried to get you to talk to me, but we have nothing in common that you wish to devel in.
We could talk computers, we could talk polotics, but you are more interested in sports, your more interested in making jokes with family members who are never home, your more interested in watching TV and cooking while I sit there and just help you grade chese, set the table, and spend time reading up articles on the internet and avoiding TV.
We have so much time to talk but you just fucking spend more of your time angry at me.
I'm YOUR fucking bastard, I'm the trouble child you fucking brought into your life, your first child.
It was because of me you quit smoking, it was me that you tried your best to do the best you could do at your job, but during the whole process I only got to see the angry side of you, to fear talking to you or to fear giving you a hug, or scared to kiss you because you always smelled like alcohal before going to bed.
I'm your fucking mistake then, just keep being pissed at me.
Keep throwing these ill thoughten invitations to join in with the family, just so I can get pissed at you and mother for waiting till the last minute.
I want a fucking hug, I want to have a family I can share my good fortunes with, and not have to worry about getting looks of disapointment,or get sarcastic comments about how I sleep 12-18 hours a day, to have you comment with frustration in your voice about me being able to sleep past 4 in the morning.
Once I get this social security I'll be out of your fucking hair again, and then you all will have to come to me if you want to visit me, and then you won't.
I'll just go on with my own fucking life again, to be alienated from my own fucking family because of a mental illness I can't cure, but I have to manage through medication, therapy, and my OWN fucking will.
With the depression, the chaotic thoughts that go through my mind, I'd be surpised if I have any will or dignity in my life to move on.
Just keep being angry at me.
I'll be out of your fucking lives soon enough...
Damn I want to have some good news to post in here...
FUCKING DAMN YOU!!!!
Just get these thoughts of smashing my head in to stop, to feel like I have a chance to become managable, to run my life again.
P.S. For those commenting I do read your comments and I want to reply... but I have this feeling of refrain that plauges my mind. I feel like I want to give you all good news, that I shouldn'tcomment or keep in touch unless I have something good to say. I love you all and I wish not to bring my burdens and drama into your lives. I want you all to be happy, and this feeling I have at the pit of my stomach of failure, ill feelings of suicide and homocidal tendancies... I just want to cry and keep bashing my head in. I'll stop so I don't do any premanent harm, but damn do I wish I could get this feeling out... I want to reach out but I feel as if I this filthy tainted and plauged soul with nothing better to do except complain. I want to move on, but I just feel so slugish. I promise to you all that I'll get better... its just going to take a while. Its really hard for me to admit to this, but I'm scared and I feel lost... I don't want to bring it upon you all. I just want you all to be happy...
I keep telling myself this...
Was in the middle of doing errands, and my family invites me to join them but I would have to be ready in like 3-5 minutes, when I haven't taken a shower yet, or gotten dressed yet.
They fucking taunt me, I SWEAR I want to fucking beat their skulls in sometimes.
Saw the therapist (keep thinking posative) and she is in the process of helping me sign up for social security so I can move out this fucking hell hole in Transitional Living Services for the Mentally ill.
I sat in front of her, telling her how much I am irritated with my parents.
Again, soaked clothes, I told her how badly I want to smash my head in... how it is so fucking hard not to.
She looked me over, found that I had some bruises on my head, and told me to stop.
She told me of a story of someone else who did the same thing, where they hit themselves too hard at some point.
They changed to the worsed, but I asked her wouldn't it be better to live in ignorance, to be taken advantage of but never to really know the difference.
She told me that I need to get out of my house, I need to be around people who are the same, who can understand.
She tells me that my parents are driving me insane, and that she needs to talk to my parents,to have them give her a call.
Talked to the Social security lady, she was cool.
Had a wound up Penis that she had next to her divorced husband, along with her daughter, kids, and pets in her office.
It was totally cool cause her daughted has Bipolar disorder and is on Social Security to help take care of herself as well as kids.
Talked to her, and she is confident she can take care of me.
Talked to my therapist before leaving and she told me that that she will help me the best she knows how, and that she was happy that I was leaving with a smile on my face.
She commented that it will not be healthy for me to get a job right now, especially seeing how the medication is only making me tired, which makes it even harder to control my spurts of anger.
On the way home I was happy, singing at the top of my lungs, smiling at how many emails I would be able to start sending out, making phone calls to people I love and haven't gotten a hold of for a while (including those who read this).
Then, I got home.
My mother just looked at me, a disapointed look on her fac.
My dad made the fucking comment after I asked them to show up for my next meeting, "We aren't the ones getting therapy, he is."
GOD FUCKING DAMN YOU FUCKING BASTARD!!!!
The meeting is to have fucking therapy for ALL OF US, to fucking get ALONG WITH YOUR SORRY ASS!!!!
This wouldn't have been a fucking problem if you had kept your fucking dick in your pants, this is fucking therapy to help us ALL get along, because it was you and mother that fucking brought me into this God Forsaken life.
I live every day wanting to trash you fucking life, to have you feel what I feel, the fear I have of talking to you, the fear I have of hurting you, because I fucking LOVE YOU.
Your my father, your the man who I always tried to do my best to make you fucking proud of me.
And here you are, making it seem like you don't need fucking therapy.
This therapy is just as much for you as it is for me
It is to help you both cope with the fact that I want to hurt you, that I want you to be as scared as I am to even speak a shred of a word to you, in the hopes of trying to get something from you.
Yes you have been there for me, yes you have tried to "walk me through" my troublesome part of my life.
I know you would have sat by me through the night to make sure I was ok, but you fucking turn your back to me.
You yell at me, you are agrivated at me, for me having these problems in my head
YOu get angry at me for making mother overly emotional, even though I have no fucking control over her feelings.
You get angry at me for making decisions, for making inside jokes about you never being home, by over exagerating the fact that you lived in a military life.
But you know what? I have fucking tried to get you to talk to me, but we have nothing in common that you wish to devel in.
We could talk computers, we could talk polotics, but you are more interested in sports, your more interested in making jokes with family members who are never home, your more interested in watching TV and cooking while I sit there and just help you grade chese, set the table, and spend time reading up articles on the internet and avoiding TV.
We have so much time to talk but you just fucking spend more of your time angry at me.
I'm YOUR fucking bastard, I'm the trouble child you fucking brought into your life, your first child.
It was because of me you quit smoking, it was me that you tried your best to do the best you could do at your job, but during the whole process I only got to see the angry side of you, to fear talking to you or to fear giving you a hug, or scared to kiss you because you always smelled like alcohal before going to bed.
I'm your fucking mistake then, just keep being pissed at me.
Keep throwing these ill thoughten invitations to join in with the family, just so I can get pissed at you and mother for waiting till the last minute.
I want a fucking hug, I want to have a family I can share my good fortunes with, and not have to worry about getting looks of disapointment,or get sarcastic comments about how I sleep 12-18 hours a day, to have you comment with frustration in your voice about me being able to sleep past 4 in the morning.
Once I get this social security I'll be out of your fucking hair again, and then you all will have to come to me if you want to visit me, and then you won't.
I'll just go on with my own fucking life again, to be alienated from my own fucking family because of a mental illness I can't cure, but I have to manage through medication, therapy, and my OWN fucking will.
With the depression, the chaotic thoughts that go through my mind, I'd be surpised if I have any will or dignity in my life to move on.
Just keep being angry at me.
I'll be out of your fucking lives soon enough...
Damn I want to have some good news to post in here...
FUCKING DAMN YOU!!!!
Just get these thoughts of smashing my head in to stop, to feel like I have a chance to become managable, to run my life again.
P.S. For those commenting I do read your comments and I want to reply... but I have this feeling of refrain that plauges my mind. I feel like I want to give you all good news, that I shouldn'tcomment or keep in touch unless I have something good to say. I love you all and I wish not to bring my burdens and drama into your lives. I want you all to be happy, and this feeling I have at the pit of my stomach of failure, ill feelings of suicide and homocidal tendancies... I just want to cry and keep bashing my head in. I'll stop so I don't do any premanent harm, but damn do I wish I could get this feeling out... I want to reach out but I feel as if I this filthy tainted and plauged soul with nothing better to do except complain. I want to move on, but I just feel so slugish. I promise to you all that I'll get better... its just going to take a while. Its really hard for me to admit to this, but I'm scared and I feel lost... I don't want to bring it upon you all. I just want you all to be happy...