Depression/Rant/General I hate my life crap
Warnings: depression, rant, bitterness, whining, and language because have the mouth of a sailor and am of the mind to use it. You've been warned. Run away. Run away now....
So I'm sitting in my bedroom just waiting for the time to pass and this day to end so the niece/nephews can go back home and Mom can go the fuck back to work tomorrow when I realize I *really* fucking hate my life. Not the general 'I'm having bad days, but there's always tomorrow crap' but just an acknowledgement that my life is as bleak and empty as any cliche I could possibly come up with. There is absolutely nothing about it that I would recommend to anyone trying one out in the showroom. If I didn't have little lives I'm responcible for (cats and kittens that I swear to god keep me sane. ish.)...
I'm 39 fucking years old and my mother still thinks I need to be at her beck and call for whatever the fuck she's decided she wants to start today. And whatever I do at home while she's OUT working is never up to standards. She rants she raves. She lives in a pig stye. Not fucking hardly. I only take care of Grandmother, her meals, the laundry, the vacuuming, the house in general, our meals, MOM's coffee because no one else drinks it but her, the shopping...G's hair and doctor's appointments AND the grocery shopping on Mom's day off, because she wrecked her car and now has the only family car left...but let her get in a tear about living in a pig stye and then the threats start. Do better or she's taking the cats off because they're the only thing in this godforsaken house that I give a shit about and she knows it.
Gods I don't have the privacy for this little breakdown. Not now when anyone can just walk in (and has)....everyone's here and I just want them to fucking LEAVE so I can sob and fall apart in peace. But that would mean T will take her laptop home with her and until I can fix mine even that mindless escape of late night surfing is gone.
They're out there in the rest of the house cleaning the *stye* because, you know, not good enough, playing the happy family and all I want to do is burrow under the covers of my bed and never come out. But I'm not sleeping anyway - I was still up at 5:41am with insomnia - and as good as it would feel to just sleep now, I don't want to create another night like last night.
I know I have blessings, things I should be and am grateful for but damnit I'm so fucking TIRED of being grateful when I'm not HAPPY. Can't remember the time I last woke up happy for the day and not just enduring the hours until I could slip into unconsciousness again. It's always the same - get up, do whatever needs doing, take care of whoever or whatever needs taking care of, planning SOMETHING that might pass as food when everything's bare and no one's gone to the store, because apparently no one knows about that large building that houses groceries OR about this room in the house called the kitchen except for me...
I'm just so fucking tired of...this. Everyone. Being sad and teary and just...tired. I don't write anymore. Or draw. Or go out because gods forbid I use the gas to get away for an afternoon. Because I don't WORK you see - don't get paid MONEY for what I do so how could I POSSIBLY contribute, right? I used to have spark, now I have nothing but emptiness where all of that life used to be and I don't know how to get it back.
...
And now I've been summoned to pick up the cat food someone knocked into the floor because - again - I'm doing something ELSE but why the fuck should that matter because there obviously isn't anyone else out there with the technical skill to pick cat food up off the floor.
Fuck I sound like I'm twelve. I feel like I'm twelve. Nothing grown up or adult or worthy about me.