(no subject)
Note to self: if you ever get the urge to work with small children again, stop. You are not patient enough for this, nor do you speak small child squeak-ese.
That said, oy. I had a whole entry written up about just how much my father is being psychotically controlling and emotionally abusive, but the short of it is that he has access to my Cyberbear account at the University. I plan to, instead of fighting him uselessly, wait until the paperwork's done and I'm in the midst of the first school week to change the password and both the security questions if I can. I don't need him adding or dropping classes or trying to manipulate me more than he already does.
Coming up short with my psychiatrist, as usual. School starts on the 27, we need a plan on how I'm going to get my meds and who if anyone I should go see once I'm away from him and as usual neither issue got addressed. He hit my berserk button on accident and I got completely unreasonably angry and defensive on him. I really owe him an apology next time I see him. He had no way of knowing that he just hit a raw nerve.
Cleaned my room, planning on folding up all the fabric I had hanging on the walls and putting them in the sewing room. Hid my stuffed animals in my closet so my father won't throw them away. I'll probably start prepacking for college soon. I have to make sure I get everything in one shot. I have no desire to come home once I get out. I'm sad I wasn't able to get into any art classes, but I guess it gives me another semester to practice and work hard at it so that I'm worth their time. Though uncertain and unstable, I stubbornly cling to my old childhood dream. There's footage somewhere of four year old me drawing, saying clearly 'I'm going to be an artist'. And even at that age my Dad can be heard saying, 'they don't make any money'.
Guess a father's true love never changes. It certainly was evident when he finalized Financial Aid this morning. He looks at his children and sees negative cash flow, and it disgusts him. He asked my mother why she had to try for one more. She cried and he grabbed a beer and went back downstairs to his den.
I type this sitting by a window. Outside, I see kids at the park a few blocks over. Swings, slides. Monkey bars, a climby plastic bridge thing. That wheel thing you make go fast and hang onto. Some have parents supervising, some don't. What they do have is an experience I have never had. I have never done any of those things, except for sneaking off campus last year to a nearby swingset that was within walking distance. Although the elementary school had playground equipment, my father drove through town often and told me very clearly all of it was dangerous and if he saw me on it he would make me regret it.
I will never have children. I'd only hurt them. The people down there know how to raise kids. And I, having never been a child, am a really terrible attempt at an adult. I'm a puppet pretending to be human. Sometimes it's comforting.
This is not one of those days.
That said, oy. I had a whole entry written up about just how much my father is being psychotically controlling and emotionally abusive, but the short of it is that he has access to my Cyberbear account at the University. I plan to, instead of fighting him uselessly, wait until the paperwork's done and I'm in the midst of the first school week to change the password and both the security questions if I can. I don't need him adding or dropping classes or trying to manipulate me more than he already does.
Coming up short with my psychiatrist, as usual. School starts on the 27, we need a plan on how I'm going to get my meds and who if anyone I should go see once I'm away from him and as usual neither issue got addressed. He hit my berserk button on accident and I got completely unreasonably angry and defensive on him. I really owe him an apology next time I see him. He had no way of knowing that he just hit a raw nerve.
Cleaned my room, planning on folding up all the fabric I had hanging on the walls and putting them in the sewing room. Hid my stuffed animals in my closet so my father won't throw them away. I'll probably start prepacking for college soon. I have to make sure I get everything in one shot. I have no desire to come home once I get out. I'm sad I wasn't able to get into any art classes, but I guess it gives me another semester to practice and work hard at it so that I'm worth their time. Though uncertain and unstable, I stubbornly cling to my old childhood dream. There's footage somewhere of four year old me drawing, saying clearly 'I'm going to be an artist'. And even at that age my Dad can be heard saying, 'they don't make any money'.
Guess a father's true love never changes. It certainly was evident when he finalized Financial Aid this morning. He looks at his children and sees negative cash flow, and it disgusts him. He asked my mother why she had to try for one more. She cried and he grabbed a beer and went back downstairs to his den.
I type this sitting by a window. Outside, I see kids at the park a few blocks over. Swings, slides. Monkey bars, a climby plastic bridge thing. That wheel thing you make go fast and hang onto. Some have parents supervising, some don't. What they do have is an experience I have never had. I have never done any of those things, except for sneaking off campus last year to a nearby swingset that was within walking distance. Although the elementary school had playground equipment, my father drove through town often and told me very clearly all of it was dangerous and if he saw me on it he would make me regret it.
I will never have children. I'd only hurt them. The people down there know how to raise kids. And I, having never been a child, am a really terrible attempt at an adult. I'm a puppet pretending to be human. Sometimes it's comforting.
This is not one of those days.