P
Pebblette
Guest
It’s so hard pretending to be chipper all the time.
I’m not 19 anymore and I’m still a loser. I’m not sophisticated, I’m a social klutz, and people think I’m weird. I don’t have a college degree or even a job because I hate the way people abuse me on the job. I end up doing the work of two people, while the bully employee just stands back and smirks. People sense my naiveté, my fear, my insecurities and my uncertainty.
I’m not as officially educated as it seems a lot of you are (I’m not jealous, I’m happy for you!), but I have a decent vocabulary - only when I require the words, it’s a struggle to put them on paper; it takes ridiculously all day to write or reply to a post or a PM, so you can imagine what it’s like in person (no wonder I’m such a joke). It was a struggle to make A’s in school, but I did with the exception of math. I flunked out of the first semester of college. The effort just caused a great deal of emotional stress. I couldn’t make any friends there, either. I was much too shy to exude enough confidence to walk up to people and strike up a conversation. The one person who did befriend me, I didn’t feel a connection with, but she was a very cheerful Christian lady (despite having just discovered she had MS).
Prior to returning to live with my parents at the age of 7, I did not feel this way. But after a lifetime (a bad childhood seems a lifetime) of being emotionally beaten down and having your head physically bashed into a wall every day, it’s hard to bounce back or remember a simple word like “shirt” some days. Makes me feel like a retard.
As dull as my life is, it’s not all that dull considering all of the things I have been through
! I am fond of my sarcastic saying, “If I had known it was going to happen, it wouldn’t have happened.” And if I was any good with words at all, none of my life would’ve happened. When I was 7, I was unable to explain how I felt, but 30 years later, I’m a dismal failure at it. I handle situations wrong. Say the wrongs things and do the wrong things, so I don’t try to make friends anymore. I guess I’m a failure at judging situations and reading people, too.
Today is just one of those days where I feel like a person of no consequence, but not because tomorrow is my birthday even though it’s just another insignificant day in an insignificant life. I don’t always feel this way before my birthday. Something happened yesterday to make me feel this way. I don’t want to elaborate for fear of sounding petty or sensitive. Maybe I overreacted. Maybe I always overreact. Maybe I imagine things. But I do know this: I did not imagine my abusive childhood like my father-in-law - who wasn’t even there - claims I did. That is more grave an insult than his declaring in all his mortal authority that I “don’t exist”, which is the equivalent of my own parents telling me, “I WISH YOU WERE NEVER BORN.” There is far more to the in-law saga, so I hate that with a passion. I wish he was dead.
Suicide attempts and cutting aren’t appealing anymore, but I do feel emotionally tired of feeling like a social loser and outcast. Today I just wish I was dead. I cried until my eyes became red and puffy and the tissues piled up like a mountain.
I hope I’m making any sense; it’s so much more difficult to put emotional abuse into words that will have any meaning for anyone else.
I’m not 19 anymore and I’m still a loser. I’m not sophisticated, I’m a social klutz, and people think I’m weird. I don’t have a college degree or even a job because I hate the way people abuse me on the job. I end up doing the work of two people, while the bully employee just stands back and smirks. People sense my naiveté, my fear, my insecurities and my uncertainty.
I’m not as officially educated as it seems a lot of you are (I’m not jealous, I’m happy for you!), but I have a decent vocabulary - only when I require the words, it’s a struggle to put them on paper; it takes ridiculously all day to write or reply to a post or a PM, so you can imagine what it’s like in person (no wonder I’m such a joke). It was a struggle to make A’s in school, but I did with the exception of math. I flunked out of the first semester of college. The effort just caused a great deal of emotional stress. I couldn’t make any friends there, either. I was much too shy to exude enough confidence to walk up to people and strike up a conversation. The one person who did befriend me, I didn’t feel a connection with, but she was a very cheerful Christian lady (despite having just discovered she had MS).
Prior to returning to live with my parents at the age of 7, I did not feel this way. But after a lifetime (a bad childhood seems a lifetime) of being emotionally beaten down and having your head physically bashed into a wall every day, it’s hard to bounce back or remember a simple word like “shirt” some days. Makes me feel like a retard.
As dull as my life is, it’s not all that dull considering all of the things I have been through
! I am fond of my sarcastic saying, “If I had known it was going to happen, it wouldn’t have happened.” And if I was any good with words at all, none of my life would’ve happened. When I was 7, I was unable to explain how I felt, but 30 years later, I’m a dismal failure at it. I handle situations wrong. Say the wrongs things and do the wrong things, so I don’t try to make friends anymore. I guess I’m a failure at judging situations and reading people, too.Today is just one of those days where I feel like a person of no consequence, but not because tomorrow is my birthday even though it’s just another insignificant day in an insignificant life. I don’t always feel this way before my birthday. Something happened yesterday to make me feel this way. I don’t want to elaborate for fear of sounding petty or sensitive. Maybe I overreacted. Maybe I always overreact. Maybe I imagine things. But I do know this: I did not imagine my abusive childhood like my father-in-law - who wasn’t even there - claims I did. That is more grave an insult than his declaring in all his mortal authority that I “don’t exist”, which is the equivalent of my own parents telling me, “I WISH YOU WERE NEVER BORN.” There is far more to the in-law saga, so I hate that with a passion. I wish he was dead.
Suicide attempts and cutting aren’t appealing anymore, but I do feel emotionally tired of feeling like a social loser and outcast. Today I just wish I was dead. I cried until my eyes became red and puffy and the tissues piled up like a mountain.
I hope I’m making any sense; it’s so much more difficult to put emotional abuse into words that will have any meaning for anyone else.
