fuck today
And this week.
Hey, LJ. Chaser's depressed and upset. Which means YOU get to listen to her rant. Yay?
OK. So it's been a really crappy few weeks. I've been trying to care for a sick family member (being one of two people who is doing so) while working and making sure another family member doesn't get overloaded and overwhelmed. Meanwhile, my work doesn't stop. The deadlines still have to get done, and no matter how sympathetic people are that doesn't change the fact that the work has to get done and I'm the only one who can do it. (I won't even get into the people who pretty much told me they didn't care about my problems, that I was lying, that I should suck it up and the world revolves around their assholes and how DARE I say otherwise. Because. Yeah. I do have to work with them so dwelling on angry, hateful thoughts is bad, and me being unable to say nothing but "fuck" every other word for the rest of the day isn't going to help anyone, either.).
And then came the thing that just broke me when I was already upset, vulnerable and trying not to cry. Funimation's announcement of the Hetalia card contest winners.
I had no pretenses about winning, but I still wanted to make some Italy-inspired jewelry to photograph, paste on an index card and mail in. Just to show Himaruya that I care about his work, and that it's given me a lot of joy. As stupid as this sounds, it was one of the things that made me not want to kill myself last year, when I was severely depressed and anxious and fighting with my partner and probably should have been hospitalized for awhile That kind of respite in my life, which has very little of it already, is not something I forget and something I am profoundly thankful for. But of course, that all went to hell when said family member got sick. Plus, you know, my stupid digital camera is both lost and broken, so I'd have had to call one of my non-existent friends to help.
But that isn't really the point of this entry. The point is, even if I occasionally make jewelry, I'm not an artist. I don't have the aptitude or the time to learn to draw or paint even though I do have the interest. That's the fun thing about being in your 30s. You have no time anymore for experimentation or doing and learning new things; even my one hobby, fanfiction, is writing practice. But I digress. As happy as I am for the winners of the contest, that sour, selfish little voice inside me says, "But I want to be able to enter a contest too, someday." Of course I don't know what it'd look like, or how you'd even set up a writing contest in the first place that wouldn't be fan fic and therefore Not Something We Can Recognize (though why fan art always gets a pass while fic does not is something that continues to baffle me). But, I mean, it would still be nice.
Ultimately, it's not about the contest. The contest isn't the point. It's the fact that something horrible always happens in the summer and always a few days before or after my birthday that leaves me stressed and sad and unable to show emotion to anyone but my partner because the other people in my life either don't give a flying fuck or have too many of their own problems to take on mine. It's the fact that my computer destroyed something I had to hand in this week which then put me behind on more work. It's the fact that two people have yelled at me. It's the fact that my career is in the toilet for reasons beyond the bad economy (translation: I suck and I fuck up everything I touch). It's the fact that, when I just wanted to be alone so I could blink back tears and not have my second breakdown in a week that I got called away from typing this entry three times to do caretaker duties (albeit small ones). It's the fact that I continually fuck up shit with scheduling that people half my age understand. It's the fact that I disappoint everyone who puts any sort of trust in me. It's the fact that, despite having worked on the bullshit depression and anxiety have done to me for the last five years, I still haven't gotten beyond the self-loathing and the negative self-talk and the nonsense. It's the fact that 99 percent of my life is fucked up and wrong and unbearable and I get reminded about this whenever I think I'm wrong and things are actually improving.
God. Just fuck today. Fuck this week. Fuck my birthday and fuck my life.
Hey, LJ. Chaser's depressed and upset. Which means YOU get to listen to her rant. Yay?
OK. So it's been a really crappy few weeks. I've been trying to care for a sick family member (being one of two people who is doing so) while working and making sure another family member doesn't get overloaded and overwhelmed. Meanwhile, my work doesn't stop. The deadlines still have to get done, and no matter how sympathetic people are that doesn't change the fact that the work has to get done and I'm the only one who can do it. (I won't even get into the people who pretty much told me they didn't care about my problems, that I was lying, that I should suck it up and the world revolves around their assholes and how DARE I say otherwise. Because. Yeah. I do have to work with them so dwelling on angry, hateful thoughts is bad, and me being unable to say nothing but "fuck" every other word for the rest of the day isn't going to help anyone, either.).
And then came the thing that just broke me when I was already upset, vulnerable and trying not to cry. Funimation's announcement of the Hetalia card contest winners.
I had no pretenses about winning, but I still wanted to make some Italy-inspired jewelry to photograph, paste on an index card and mail in. Just to show Himaruya that I care about his work, and that it's given me a lot of joy. As stupid as this sounds, it was one of the things that made me not want to kill myself last year, when I was severely depressed and anxious and fighting with my partner and probably should have been hospitalized for awhile That kind of respite in my life, which has very little of it already, is not something I forget and something I am profoundly thankful for. But of course, that all went to hell when said family member got sick. Plus, you know, my stupid digital camera is both lost and broken, so I'd have had to call one of my non-existent friends to help.
But that isn't really the point of this entry. The point is, even if I occasionally make jewelry, I'm not an artist. I don't have the aptitude or the time to learn to draw or paint even though I do have the interest. That's the fun thing about being in your 30s. You have no time anymore for experimentation or doing and learning new things; even my one hobby, fanfiction, is writing practice. But I digress. As happy as I am for the winners of the contest, that sour, selfish little voice inside me says, "But I want to be able to enter a contest too, someday." Of course I don't know what it'd look like, or how you'd even set up a writing contest in the first place that wouldn't be fan fic and therefore Not Something We Can Recognize (though why fan art always gets a pass while fic does not is something that continues to baffle me). But, I mean, it would still be nice.
Ultimately, it's not about the contest. The contest isn't the point. It's the fact that something horrible always happens in the summer and always a few days before or after my birthday that leaves me stressed and sad and unable to show emotion to anyone but my partner because the other people in my life either don't give a flying fuck or have too many of their own problems to take on mine. It's the fact that my computer destroyed something I had to hand in this week which then put me behind on more work. It's the fact that two people have yelled at me. It's the fact that my career is in the toilet for reasons beyond the bad economy (translation: I suck and I fuck up everything I touch). It's the fact that, when I just wanted to be alone so I could blink back tears and not have my second breakdown in a week that I got called away from typing this entry three times to do caretaker duties (albeit small ones). It's the fact that I continually fuck up shit with scheduling that people half my age understand. It's the fact that I disappoint everyone who puts any sort of trust in me. It's the fact that, despite having worked on the bullshit depression and anxiety have done to me for the last five years, I still haven't gotten beyond the self-loathing and the negative self-talk and the nonsense. It's the fact that 99 percent of my life is fucked up and wrong and unbearable and I get reminded about this whenever I think I'm wrong and things are actually improving.
God. Just fuck today. Fuck this week. Fuck my birthday and fuck my life.