I'm not convinced I should have come back.
I've just looked after a 2y old niece for a week with K. Caught sproggling lurgy. Feel tired, sullied and unusual. Plus more closely acquainted with poo than I'd care to be. But that's not really why I feel blah.
I don't like disappointing the few friends I have. But the main problem is: I *have* disappointed friends, frequently, chronically and likely endlessly more than I'm truly aware of. And I hate my lack of money and my idiotic issues that mean I'm always somehow unable to make true amends.
I've always despised not being able to 'stand my round' (whatever the situation). I've hated my flids, my blood-letting, my hiding, my weaknesses and my occasional strengths that make it seem like I'm fine (or at least I look you in the eye and tell you so and you believe me.)
I don't hate those times when I *am* perfectly fine, but I do loathe that they go away after a while and then I'm left tying not to bleed on someone's stupid beige nylon carpet whilst they look disappointed at my sudden inexplicable lapse of reason (or possibly fret the stain will never fade - I often confuse those expressions...)
I think really what I mean to say, is I've committed the cardinal sin I swore I never would. In the past months in the UK, I've spent a load of energy trying not to carve myself up, and instead pretend I'm perfectly fine. Unsurprisingly this resulted in random rubbish behaviour I didn't really want any-how but thought might be more socially acceptable in the long run and would save on carpet cleaning bills. Not exactly so.
I have: grossly disappointed, pissed off, upset and hugely inconvenienced several good friends of long standing. And I've been back 4 months after a two year absence. This has to be some sort of amazingly new fucking horrible record for me - do I get a prize?
Yes, I've occasionally uttered phrases like 'my mother's funeral' or 'no meds' or 'can't go back with my husband to Hawai'i' or 'throwing a bit of a flid because - well, fuck - wouldn't you?!'.
But here's the thing. I can't tell the difference between explanation or excuse. I don't know what is criminal or allowable any more, what is within bounds or without. I came back at a difficult time, but I unintentionally pissed people off. Should
I be vastly apologetic or they magnanimous in their understanding? I have no sodding idea.
All I know is I miss my handsome chitten, Captain Flint, and my two lovely silly goats. I thought I was leaving my island world to attend a funeral. Turned out, it was a death watch, a funeral, and then 'yeah-sorry-mum's-dead-but-sucks-to-be-you-bitch-you're-stuck-here-now' with added 'oh-look-your-husband's-going-back-without-you-cos-of-visas' and 'PS-you-can't-rejoin-him-or-else-your-life-(chitten,room,goats,place,plans,etc)-is-forfeit-for-ten-years.' Oh sodding yey.
It does appear I've fucked up bigtime in a new and glorious cornucopia of ways.
=======
I don't want to be here.
You (UK) probably don't want me here now either because your life is a different shape and I don't fit in. (Plus I'm a pain in the arse and an occasional hazard to carpets or drink cabinets or bank balances and the like.)
But it's okay. I wish you didn't have to deal with me either.
I'm working on it.
I don't like disappointing the few friends I have. But the main problem is: I *have* disappointed friends, frequently, chronically and likely endlessly more than I'm truly aware of. And I hate my lack of money and my idiotic issues that mean I'm always somehow unable to make true amends.
I've always despised not being able to 'stand my round' (whatever the situation). I've hated my flids, my blood-letting, my hiding, my weaknesses and my occasional strengths that make it seem like I'm fine (or at least I look you in the eye and tell you so and you believe me.)
I don't hate those times when I *am* perfectly fine, but I do loathe that they go away after a while and then I'm left tying not to bleed on someone's stupid beige nylon carpet whilst they look disappointed at my sudden inexplicable lapse of reason (or possibly fret the stain will never fade - I often confuse those expressions...)
I think really what I mean to say, is I've committed the cardinal sin I swore I never would. In the past months in the UK, I've spent a load of energy trying not to carve myself up, and instead pretend I'm perfectly fine. Unsurprisingly this resulted in random rubbish behaviour I didn't really want any-how but thought might be more socially acceptable in the long run and would save on carpet cleaning bills. Not exactly so.
I have: grossly disappointed, pissed off, upset and hugely inconvenienced several good friends of long standing. And I've been back 4 months after a two year absence. This has to be some sort of amazingly new fucking horrible record for me - do I get a prize?
Yes, I've occasionally uttered phrases like 'my mother's funeral' or 'no meds' or 'can't go back with my husband to Hawai'i' or 'throwing a bit of a flid because - well, fuck - wouldn't you?!'.
But here's the thing. I can't tell the difference between explanation or excuse. I don't know what is criminal or allowable any more, what is within bounds or without. I came back at a difficult time, but I unintentionally pissed people off. Should
I be vastly apologetic or they magnanimous in their understanding? I have no sodding idea.
All I know is I miss my handsome chitten, Captain Flint, and my two lovely silly goats. I thought I was leaving my island world to attend a funeral. Turned out, it was a death watch, a funeral, and then 'yeah-sorry-mum's-dead-but-sucks-to-be-you-bitch-you're-stuck-here-now' with added 'oh-look-your-husband's-going-back-without-you-cos-of-visas' and 'PS-you-can't-rejoin-him-or-else-your-life-(chitten,room,goats,place,plans,etc)-is-forfeit-for-ten-years.' Oh sodding yey.
It does appear I've fucked up bigtime in a new and glorious cornucopia of ways.
=======
I don't want to be here.
You (UK) probably don't want me here now either because your life is a different shape and I don't fit in. (Plus I'm a pain in the arse and an occasional hazard to carpets or drink cabinets or bank balances and the like.)
But it's okay. I wish you didn't have to deal with me either.
I'm working on it.