Jesus H Fucking Christ on a Platter with an apple in his mouth
Just got reminded of something unpleasent from something in a song.
*sighs and rubs her temples*
In case it hasn't been made abundantly clear in my entries; I'm very touchy-sensitive-defensive-uncomfortable-hostile when it comes to the topic of my disorder and how it makes me look. It doesn't help one's self-esteem when they know deep down that their disorder is a source of embarrassment for their family.
So when earlier last night (about 10ish or so) Dad comes over and starts annoying the shit out of me by touching my head (I don't like being touched much, I really don't. Some people I'm okay with and other's I shy away from. Being touched on my head makes me duck away automatically and you don't even want to know about what happens when my ears are touched.) and starting to make comments on it.
-_- 3 words for you all;
Bitch. Mode. Activated.
I've told my family not to comment on it, to act like it's not there because talking to me about it makes me anxious, self-conscious, unhappy and humiliated, not to mention when I've got the fucking thing evened out and am trying to ignore it to let it grow it doesn't help by making me draw my attention to it.
I really hate it when my dad completely ignores what I've repeatedly asked him NOT to do and goes and tries to "doctor" me or act like a goddamned therapist about this.
Dad: You should let me help you, I can help you.
Me: *getting annoyed* Drop it already, it's something I have to do alone.
Dad: Why do you have to do it by yourself, let me help.
Me: Because it's my damn problem, that's why. Stay out of it.
Dad: It's not just your problem, why do you think that?
Me: *really agitated now* I don't see you pulling your hair out and being able to relate to this, that's why. If you did, then maybe it'd be a different story. But since you don't, just drop it already.
Dad: But I just want to help.
Me: ...Look. This is something only I am going through. It's something even I don't really understand and I'll understand it by myself and deal with it by myself.
Dad: Well you don't have to.
Me: *walking outside to get away from him* Yeah Dad, it actually is something I have to do by myself. No one else can stop this except for me and I'll deal with this on my own. I have this long, any longer won't kill me.
Dad: We can help you, you know that right? We only want to help you because we care.
Me: Then quit caring about something that has nothing to do with you. You can't help someone who won't let you help them. Now either drop it or I'm going for a walk.
Urrrgh, why are parents so thick that they don't understand the blatant: "I DON'T WANT TO TALK ABOUT THIS SUBJECT SO DROP IT ALREADY BEFORE YOU PISS ME OFF" message?
*fume fume*
Great, I'm all riled up before I want to go sleep. Fuuuuuun.
It's like what my icon says:
"It's time you walked this lonely road all on your own."
I'll understand and deal with this by myself; it's my demon, no one elses and I don't want sympathy or pity about it. If I screw up? Yeah, I screwed up and failed again, will be emo in my journal and get the fuck over it and try again when my confidence level is back up.
Times like these make me seriously wish I was someone who liked solitary confinement and didn't need anyone.
*sighs and rubs her temples*
In case it hasn't been made abundantly clear in my entries; I'm very touchy-sensitive-defensive-uncomfortable-hostile when it comes to the topic of my disorder and how it makes me look. It doesn't help one's self-esteem when they know deep down that their disorder is a source of embarrassment for their family.
So when earlier last night (about 10ish or so) Dad comes over and starts annoying the shit out of me by touching my head (I don't like being touched much, I really don't. Some people I'm okay with and other's I shy away from. Being touched on my head makes me duck away automatically and you don't even want to know about what happens when my ears are touched.) and starting to make comments on it.
-_- 3 words for you all;
Bitch. Mode. Activated.
I've told my family not to comment on it, to act like it's not there because talking to me about it makes me anxious, self-conscious, unhappy and humiliated, not to mention when I've got the fucking thing evened out and am trying to ignore it to let it grow it doesn't help by making me draw my attention to it.
I really hate it when my dad completely ignores what I've repeatedly asked him NOT to do and goes and tries to "doctor" me or act like a goddamned therapist about this.
Dad: You should let me help you, I can help you.
Me: *getting annoyed* Drop it already, it's something I have to do alone.
Dad: Why do you have to do it by yourself, let me help.
Me: Because it's my damn problem, that's why. Stay out of it.
Dad: It's not just your problem, why do you think that?
Me: *really agitated now* I don't see you pulling your hair out and being able to relate to this, that's why. If you did, then maybe it'd be a different story. But since you don't, just drop it already.
Dad: But I just want to help.
Me: ...Look. This is something only I am going through. It's something even I don't really understand and I'll understand it by myself and deal with it by myself.
Dad: Well you don't have to.
Me: *walking outside to get away from him* Yeah Dad, it actually is something I have to do by myself. No one else can stop this except for me and I'll deal with this on my own. I have this long, any longer won't kill me.
Dad: We can help you, you know that right? We only want to help you because we care.
Me: Then quit caring about something that has nothing to do with you. You can't help someone who won't let you help them. Now either drop it or I'm going for a walk.
Urrrgh, why are parents so thick that they don't understand the blatant: "I DON'T WANT TO TALK ABOUT THIS SUBJECT SO DROP IT ALREADY BEFORE YOU PISS ME OFF" message?
*fume fume*
Great, I'm all riled up before I want to go sleep. Fuuuuuun.
It's like what my icon says:
"It's time you walked this lonely road all on your own."
I'll understand and deal with this by myself; it's my demon, no one elses and I don't want sympathy or pity about it. If I screw up? Yeah, I screwed up and failed again, will be emo in my journal and get the fuck over it and try again when my confidence level is back up.
Times like these make me seriously wish I was someone who liked solitary confinement and didn't need anyone.