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I don’t know what to call this, so this is what you get.

July 27th, 2010

Carrie used this image for a post I wrote over on Eden Cafe a while back. It totally fits, so I stole it.

My period must be coming.  Because I’m falling apart.

Yesterday, I ruined pancakes.  And that was just the beginning.  After ruining pancakes, I promptly ruined my eggs.  After ruining my eggs, I began to drop things, trip over stuff, knock joints on random corners…

To top it off, after writing about not having writer’s block, I ended up hopelessly blocked.  I had two off-site articles I wanted to at least start.  Had the topics already outlined in my mind.  And was able to write exactly jack, and shit.  I managed three forced paragraphs that sound forced, and clipped, and are not at all teeming with my usual wit and hilarity (Shut up.  I am so too funny.).  And I all but melted down. 

M ordered me to stop working.  Before my day was up.  Because I couldn’t handle being blocked.

“Go make dinner.” He says.  “You obviously need to stop working on that.” He says.

Even staring at Ellove’s distractingly alluring curves isn’t cheering me up.

None of that is my issue.  Avoidance, FTW!

I don’t know how to express myself without being disrespectful.

Well… that’s not exactly the right wording.  I know how society prefers people to express themselves.  I know how M expects me to express myself.  But I can’t seem to attain it.

So, instead, I keep it to myself.

I dunno if you’ve noticed, but I write about what M hates about me, and I write about what I hate about me, but I don’t usually write about M’s faults.  It’s really not my place to point the things about Him that society considers “faults” out to the rest of the world.  And I suppose that’s a good mentality for a slave to have.

The problem is I rarely talk about them with Him either.  Even with this new vow of full transparency.  Instead, I keep them bottled up inside and then spit them at Him mid-argument.  When I’m already in trouble, and I know that He’s going to ignore me anyway.

While I am a stuffer, it’s not really that.  It’s more that I can ignore anyone’s faults, write them off as a bad day, and love the rest of the person with little to no effort… until they piss me off.  Or… I have trouble distinguishing between my actual emotions and what’s caused by my mental illness, so I don’t say anything until I can figure it out.  And then I never figure it out, so I just don’t say anything.

Maybe that’s my fault.  My approach is off.  Accusatory and attacking, rather than assertive and respectful.  And maybe because of that, I deserve to have my problems ignored.  And maybe my thinking that at some point He should stop ignoring them and start addressing them, if only to get them resolved, even if I’m disrespectful in my approach, is wrong.  Maybe what needs to happen is I need to swallow my big fucking head and approach Him the way I know I’m supposed to.

Maybe I just feel like I’m drowning because I’m about to start bleeding.

I’m fucking sick of this emotional roller coaster.  Sick to death of it.

What I wouldn’t give for health insurance, right about now.  I wonder… Would I go to Planned Parenthood to be tested (or whatever) for PMDD? Or a shrink?

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