I enjoy working [for the most part!]. After spending most of my adult life being literally held hostage in my own home, it's refreshing to have a productive reason to get out of the house 5-7 days of the week. I like having my own money; money that I earn, and money that I get to decide how to spend. It's nice not having to own up to anyone when, where and how I decide to spend the money that I earn by my own hard work!
Unfortunately, my current job is a menial one. Hostessing in a restaurant, I make very little money. It's not enough to cover rent in my area on my own. Around here, a 2-bedroom apartment will easily run you $1100-1400/month. To me, that's very expensive!! My first apartment when I moved out after high school was $600/month for a spacious 2-bedroom. I've even lived in a moderately sized, 3-bedroom home with a very large yard in a nice neighborhood for just $885/month.
Also, because I have such a crappy job, fellow employees are constantly coming and going. There must be a 75% turnover rate, if not more. And at this point, where there used to be 6 or 7 of us, now there are 3! My job has been working me to the bone lately. I believe I've had 2 days off this entire month. Now, I typically work 4-7 hours a day, so working 7 days a week at such low hours isn't as taxing as 7 8-hour days in a week would be, but it is still tiresome to be there every single day. Nothing can beat a good, old-fashioned day off from work!
I seriously bust ass at my job. I am the hardest working, and I believe I'm the most committed to being a reliable employee. I don't call in "sick" because I want to go out or because I went out and caught myself a hangover the night before; I only ask for days off that I honestly NEED to take [i.e. court dates, important appointments for my daughter, etc.]; I don't ask to go home 2 hours into a shift because of silly little problems... I do everything I'm asked, and I genuinely CARE about doing my job well. I would love to be "promoted" to a waitressing position. It's a fairly nice restaurant, and I could make enough money by waiting on tables to cover my expenses comfortably. Unfortunately, because we are so short on hostesses, and because there are already plenty of other servers, my managers won't give me a chance at waiting tables.
I've done everything in my power to set myself up for a promotion. I work hard, I show up on time for every shift, I pick up everyone else's slack, and I come in on my days off to cover unreliable employees. At this point, I feel unappreciated. I get the occasional "thank you" for covering missing employee's shifts, but nothing more. Last night, when I was covering for someone else, a regular asked the manager on duty why he hadn't promoted me to waitressing yet. I did the suck-up thing to do and said that they couldn't possibly let me wait on tables right now while we're so understaffed for hostesses. My manager then said that he wouldn't want me waiting on tables anyway when I can't remember simple tasks like hanging up the closing sign [which in his defense I actually had forgotten to do 20 minutes earlier]. But really? Really?! Nit-picking over a stupid ass sign that nobody pays any mind to anyway, was that really necessary? For all I do for the restaurant, I'd like a little nicer treatment. Everything else I'm responsible for was done, and then some. I've been going the extra mile at work for months, and for what? So I can work 7 days a week, getting paid $4/hour plus mediocre tips and be nit-picked over by management?
I realize that I'm in the wrong industry to be expecting any real sort of opportunity, but a little bit of appreciation here and there would be nice. I wish I could rewrite my past and go to school, not get married, not get pregnant, not get divorced and not get stuck at home for 7 years while I earn zero job history so I could have a better job right now. I'm doing everything I can now to rewrite my past and make my future into something bearable, but there's nothing I can do to make up for lost time. I could have been so much more by now, but I let someone take it all away from me, and I squandered my opportunities.
If I could get into waiting tables for a few months, it would open up so many more doors for me. With that on my resume, I'd be able to show enough experience with customer relations and handling money to apply for a job in a bank. That alone would be a job I could see happily working at with a comfortable income, something I could picture myself doing indefinitely until something even better became available. I'll just have to keep looking... Hopefully someday I will manage to work my way into a better job..........................
Tuesday, October 29, 2013
Tuesday, October 22, 2013
Impossible
I know that I am impossible to love. I drive everyone away in my life because I am stupid, a burden, riddled with complexes; because I carry so much baggage from my past mistakes, because whenever I try to think, I just fuck everything up, because no matter how hard I think I am trying, I am never actually getting anywhere. I just keep digging my own grave deeper, and deeper, and deeper.
I hate myself, and I'm not surprised that everyone else does, too.
Every day, I make mistakes. I usually repeat the same mistakes again and again. It's like I just can't think straight about anything. Even though I always wish I could just calculate my moves more carefully, and actually achieve anything, I never manage to get anywhere but down. I can't even manage to pull together enough brain power in a single sitting to get one straight thought across clearly without every idea being riddled with flaws, inconsistencies and stupidity.
I have done nothing in life but bring everyone else down around me. It's no wonder my parents gave up and let me go when I kept fucking up as a teenager. There's a point when nothing can be done to help a person. I am impossible to help because I am too stupid to keep anything good going long enough before I fuck it right back up. I am impossible to help because no matter what, I keep making bad decisions.
Nobody wants to keep a burdensome, useless piece of crap around.
I spent a decade of my life being abused and tormented on a regular, always hearing the question, "Why can't you just do right?" I was so convinced that those words were just bullshit coming from an abuser's shitty mouth. I thought I could free myself of that thought forever by leaving, moving, running away and starting over. Instead, here I am, a year into my own run of things, still being asked the same question every day. I ask myself the same question. Why can't I get things right? Wishing for things to get better, wishing I would do better, wishing I could make things right for myself after all those years in purgatory - wishing does NO GOOD when it is impossible for me to follow through.
It's no wonder he knocked me around, dragged me by my hair, threw me out of the house all the time, and screamed in my face every day. I am SO frustrating! I frustrate myself! It's no wonder he would choke me like every night. Because everything that comes out of my mouth is just one huge diarrhea of stupidity. I wish I would just shut the fuck up all the damned time, too... Everything that I do is just one giant, never-ending string of stupidity.
In those domestic violence survivor groups, the leaders always remind us all that we should avoid relationships following a history of being abused. I don't really think it's just because they want us to take time to heal before moving forward so much as I KNOW it is because it's pretty much proven that people like us are just impossible to deal with that whoever we cling to will inevitably just get so sick of us that they wish they could smack us in our stupid faces. There are more reasons that people are abused than just that they get involved with some shithead who was pre-programmed to abuse.
What the fuck is wrong with me? Why am I like this?
I tried. I tried to believe that it was him and not me. I tried to believe that others were right when they told me "abuse is always the abuser's fault and ~never~ the victim's." If anything, trying to believe that bucket of shit was my greatest downfall this year. I've been walking around like a fucking idiot with a chip on my shoulder. I managed to convince myself that nobody had the right to cross me. I have walked around without humility, demanding respect yet also insisting that somehow I have the right to have everything go my way. Being abused was so humbling and demeaning. He tore me apart until there was nothing left of me but a shell, a walking corpse with no option but to do what I was told and hope to God that I didn't do anything wrong in his opinion to earn myself another strike. When I left, I was so fed up with following his rules that I just wanted to do everything my way in some stupid effort to enjoy the freedom I had finally earned myself after all those years. It is SO hard to live every day knowing that any tiny mistake will earn you some form of physical and emotional pain and suffering. When I walked away from that life, I wanted so badly to be FREE. I was so hung up on the idea that nobody was ever going to have the right to cross me, fuck with me, or get in my way ever again. And for what? No good has come of my lack of humility. I just keep pushing everything good out of my life because I am on a never-ending streak of fucking-up.
I can't help but believe the whole world would have been better off if I had just died by his hand. Maybe he would have shot me with his rifle when he was so out of his mind on drugs and running around the house with it loaded, one in the chamber, chasing after invisible and inaudible intruders. Maybe he would have run me through one afternoon in one of his furious rages with the machete he used to cut my hand. Maybe he would have held my throat for just another minute too long after I passed out until I just asphyxiated and died. But he didn't. I woke up from the seizures, no shot was ever misfired in my direction, and I didn't bleed out from a sickeningly deep gash in my flesh.
The ONLY reason I am any use to this world is because of my daughter. Without me, she wouldn't have a safe home or a new life to succeed in. It was because she was right there when he cut me open that I finally knew that I had to get us out of there no matter what it would take. It it is because I know that I owe her a better life than the one I had brought her into that I know I have to keep trying. I have to show her that I love her, have to give her everything I can to ensure that she lives a better life. I have to teach her that she is better than falling victim to some asshole's violent plans to keep her under control.
I hope that she believes other people when they tell her that her mother was strong, and brave, and determined. I hope she never sees the truth behind those lies. I hope she never realizes that I would not have fallen victim to my old life in the first place had I actually been intelligent, strong or brave. I don't want her to know the truth, because I don't want her to lose faith like I have.
I hate myself, and I'm not surprised that everyone else does, too.
Every day, I make mistakes. I usually repeat the same mistakes again and again. It's like I just can't think straight about anything. Even though I always wish I could just calculate my moves more carefully, and actually achieve anything, I never manage to get anywhere but down. I can't even manage to pull together enough brain power in a single sitting to get one straight thought across clearly without every idea being riddled with flaws, inconsistencies and stupidity.
I have done nothing in life but bring everyone else down around me. It's no wonder my parents gave up and let me go when I kept fucking up as a teenager. There's a point when nothing can be done to help a person. I am impossible to help because I am too stupid to keep anything good going long enough before I fuck it right back up. I am impossible to help because no matter what, I keep making bad decisions.
Nobody wants to keep a burdensome, useless piece of crap around.
I spent a decade of my life being abused and tormented on a regular, always hearing the question, "Why can't you just do right?" I was so convinced that those words were just bullshit coming from an abuser's shitty mouth. I thought I could free myself of that thought forever by leaving, moving, running away and starting over. Instead, here I am, a year into my own run of things, still being asked the same question every day. I ask myself the same question. Why can't I get things right? Wishing for things to get better, wishing I would do better, wishing I could make things right for myself after all those years in purgatory - wishing does NO GOOD when it is impossible for me to follow through.
It's no wonder he knocked me around, dragged me by my hair, threw me out of the house all the time, and screamed in my face every day. I am SO frustrating! I frustrate myself! It's no wonder he would choke me like every night. Because everything that comes out of my mouth is just one huge diarrhea of stupidity. I wish I would just shut the fuck up all the damned time, too... Everything that I do is just one giant, never-ending string of stupidity.
In those domestic violence survivor groups, the leaders always remind us all that we should avoid relationships following a history of being abused. I don't really think it's just because they want us to take time to heal before moving forward so much as I KNOW it is because it's pretty much proven that people like us are just impossible to deal with that whoever we cling to will inevitably just get so sick of us that they wish they could smack us in our stupid faces. There are more reasons that people are abused than just that they get involved with some shithead who was pre-programmed to abuse.
What the fuck is wrong with me? Why am I like this?
I tried. I tried to believe that it was him and not me. I tried to believe that others were right when they told me "abuse is always the abuser's fault and ~never~ the victim's." If anything, trying to believe that bucket of shit was my greatest downfall this year. I've been walking around like a fucking idiot with a chip on my shoulder. I managed to convince myself that nobody had the right to cross me. I have walked around without humility, demanding respect yet also insisting that somehow I have the right to have everything go my way. Being abused was so humbling and demeaning. He tore me apart until there was nothing left of me but a shell, a walking corpse with no option but to do what I was told and hope to God that I didn't do anything wrong in his opinion to earn myself another strike. When I left, I was so fed up with following his rules that I just wanted to do everything my way in some stupid effort to enjoy the freedom I had finally earned myself after all those years. It is SO hard to live every day knowing that any tiny mistake will earn you some form of physical and emotional pain and suffering. When I walked away from that life, I wanted so badly to be FREE. I was so hung up on the idea that nobody was ever going to have the right to cross me, fuck with me, or get in my way ever again. And for what? No good has come of my lack of humility. I just keep pushing everything good out of my life because I am on a never-ending streak of fucking-up.
I can't help but believe the whole world would have been better off if I had just died by his hand. Maybe he would have shot me with his rifle when he was so out of his mind on drugs and running around the house with it loaded, one in the chamber, chasing after invisible and inaudible intruders. Maybe he would have run me through one afternoon in one of his furious rages with the machete he used to cut my hand. Maybe he would have held my throat for just another minute too long after I passed out until I just asphyxiated and died. But he didn't. I woke up from the seizures, no shot was ever misfired in my direction, and I didn't bleed out from a sickeningly deep gash in my flesh.
The ONLY reason I am any use to this world is because of my daughter. Without me, she wouldn't have a safe home or a new life to succeed in. It was because she was right there when he cut me open that I finally knew that I had to get us out of there no matter what it would take. It it is because I know that I owe her a better life than the one I had brought her into that I know I have to keep trying. I have to show her that I love her, have to give her everything I can to ensure that she lives a better life. I have to teach her that she is better than falling victim to some asshole's violent plans to keep her under control.
I hope that she believes other people when they tell her that her mother was strong, and brave, and determined. I hope she never sees the truth behind those lies. I hope she never realizes that I would not have fallen victim to my old life in the first place had I actually been intelligent, strong or brave. I don't want her to know the truth, because I don't want her to lose faith like I have.
Monday, October 7, 2013
Pumpkin Patch Field Trip
My daughter's pre-K program had a field trip to a somewhat-local pumpkin patch last week. She was so excited about her class trip that J-E and I both decided to join her for the special occasion. It's important to me that J-E and I are the type of parents A- can look up to, trust to be there for her when she needs us, and in general have a good time together as a family. Although I had [and still have] a lot of things I needed to do that day, I set my priorities aside for a few hours and we joined her class for a fun-filled afternoon. It means so much to me that J-E does the same with his own priorities, joining us for her class trip, watching her when I work nights and even tucking her in bed, coming with me to all A-'s important appointments. I'm thankful every day that A- has such a positive male role model in her life after so many years without!
We had a wonderful time together! A- was thrilled with all the huge slides around the pumpkin patch, and she went down each of them with her classmates. There were cows, pigs and goats to see, and we were able to take A- into the goat pen to pet and feed them. She really enjoyed petting the goats, both large and small! We rode a very elaborate hayride with A-'s class, and later walked through a corn maze filled with all sorts of creepy houses to walk through. There was even a psychedelic school bus to walk through! A day-glo-dotted pipe spun freely around a bridge that you crossed in the blacklit bus, and the room was so disorienting that the door appeared to spin in circles ahead of you.
J-E and I even got to have a little laugh over the leashed child chasing after a cat ::
Now for the fun stuff ::
PIGS!! =) I have a thing for pigs, although I much prefer the stuffed, plastic or ceramic kind. ;D At the end of our trip to the pumpkin patch, I picked up a neat little toy pig. I've never seen one like it before, but it's a mother pig suckling a litter of piglets. LOL What can I say, I like weird things!
Now, this was cool! Baby dragon hatchlings. =)
A Psychic Rooster? This farm has some interesting sights, for sure!
I think the biggest and best part of this trip for the kids was the tractor/hayride!
OH! Pokemon! <333 J-E put a Gameboy Color emulator and a copy of Pokemon Yellow version on my PSP last night. Oh, the childhood memories!
We were greeted by a space alien coming out of her ship along the ride!
Monster bus FTW =)
Lots of big horror movie names in this cemetery. >=}
Gnomes!
Gotta love a zombie farmer.
We had a wonderful time together! A- was thrilled with all the huge slides around the pumpkin patch, and she went down each of them with her classmates. There were cows, pigs and goats to see, and we were able to take A- into the goat pen to pet and feed them. She really enjoyed petting the goats, both large and small! We rode a very elaborate hayride with A-'s class, and later walked through a corn maze filled with all sorts of creepy houses to walk through. There was even a psychedelic school bus to walk through! A day-glo-dotted pipe spun freely around a bridge that you crossed in the blacklit bus, and the room was so disorienting that the door appeared to spin in circles ahead of you.
J-E and I even got to have a little laugh over the leashed child chasing after a cat ::
Now for the fun stuff ::
PIGS!! =) I have a thing for pigs, although I much prefer the stuffed, plastic or ceramic kind. ;D At the end of our trip to the pumpkin patch, I picked up a neat little toy pig. I've never seen one like it before, but it's a mother pig suckling a litter of piglets. LOL What can I say, I like weird things!
Now, this was cool! Baby dragon hatchlings. =)
A Psychic Rooster? This farm has some interesting sights, for sure!
I think the biggest and best part of this trip for the kids was the tractor/hayride!
OH! Pokemon! <333 J-E put a Gameboy Color emulator and a copy of Pokemon Yellow version on my PSP last night. Oh, the childhood memories!
We were greeted by a space alien coming out of her ship along the ride!
Monster bus FTW =)
Lots of big horror movie names in this cemetery. >=}
Gnomes!
Gotta love a zombie farmer.
Wednesday, October 2, 2013
Six Months
I'm finding it a little hard to believe that my daughter and I moved to our new home 6 months ago! In those 6 months, I've found employment, dreaded my way through plenty of legal crap, bought my first car, enrolled my daughter in school and involved her and myself in many other resources throughout the community. I feel like she and I have both found this time to be emotionally healing.
I've always been the brush-the-dirt-off-my-knees-and-start-fresh kind of girl, and I've struggled a lot in recent weeks with the realization that it is going to take me a lot longer to heal than I expected. I wanted to believe I could pack a bag, hop a plane, and start over in a new state like nothing ever really happened. In the first couple months here, I felt like I was coming so far that I would be over "it" in no time. I certainly made a ton of progress when I first arrived, but I still have so long to go before I'm feeling like a whole person. Maybe I will never feel whole again, but I have to try.
It seems like every hurdle I pass, I will find a new hurdle just ahead of the last. At first, it was simply the enormous and impossible hurdle of simply getting away. It took heaps of help to manage that. I thought I would be able to get out with just my parents' help, but it led to a list of people that included about 6 lawyers, 10-15 social workers, 2 judges, a safe house, several weeks in 2 support groups and one key person who inspired me to stand up for myself to begin with.
I still don't understand how I became so entangled in my past life. I know why it happened, and I know who is responsible for what, but I'm not sure I will ever understand myself enough to know why I let it go on for so long or why I was too weak to stand up for myself until others empowered me. Where before most of my thoughts stuck to fear and attempts to overcome my anxiety, terror and flashbacks, recently my thoughts seem to return to a new place : How do I achieve the happy medium between standing up for myself and being a little over-zealous, getting myself into more, new predicaments.
After just shy of 10 years spent being controlled, manipulated, isolated and tortured, I am so adamant about not falling into the same trap twice. That's great; I need to feel empowered to be able to protect myself and heal, but I think recently I am crossing the line between normal and over-the-top. I got myself in a bit of trouble at work a few nights ago because I "kirked out" on someone I work with because he was crossing the boundaries I've set up in an effort to protect myself from being walked all over. Also, lately in my personal life, I've been over-protective of myself to the point that it's interfered with my relationship with J-E. He's the last person I should be afraid to let my guard down around, and I feel pretty rotten for lashing out at him. He doesn't deserve to be bombarded with every emotional state I cross through as I try to navigate my way through the emotional torment I've been living in since my ex began abusing me. I feel like such a volatile little entity these days, learning for the first time how to be my own person and protect myself from the dangers of this big, wide world.
Every day, I struggle to find the happy medium between protecting myself from all the bad people in this world, and letting in the few good ones I come across in life. I lost my faith in the idea that everyone is inherently good. I am so convinced, after everything my own husband put me through, that most people are just malicious souls who will tear you apart and take you for everything you've got if you let down your guard. It's not the outlook I wish to have on life, but it's the outlook I have to have in order to protect myself, at least while I try to heal and find myself in all the debris of my past life.
I've always been the brush-the-dirt-off-my-knees-and-start-fresh kind of girl, and I've struggled a lot in recent weeks with the realization that it is going to take me a lot longer to heal than I expected. I wanted to believe I could pack a bag, hop a plane, and start over in a new state like nothing ever really happened. In the first couple months here, I felt like I was coming so far that I would be over "it" in no time. I certainly made a ton of progress when I first arrived, but I still have so long to go before I'm feeling like a whole person. Maybe I will never feel whole again, but I have to try.
It seems like every hurdle I pass, I will find a new hurdle just ahead of the last. At first, it was simply the enormous and impossible hurdle of simply getting away. It took heaps of help to manage that. I thought I would be able to get out with just my parents' help, but it led to a list of people that included about 6 lawyers, 10-15 social workers, 2 judges, a safe house, several weeks in 2 support groups and one key person who inspired me to stand up for myself to begin with.
I still don't understand how I became so entangled in my past life. I know why it happened, and I know who is responsible for what, but I'm not sure I will ever understand myself enough to know why I let it go on for so long or why I was too weak to stand up for myself until others empowered me. Where before most of my thoughts stuck to fear and attempts to overcome my anxiety, terror and flashbacks, recently my thoughts seem to return to a new place : How do I achieve the happy medium between standing up for myself and being a little over-zealous, getting myself into more, new predicaments.
After just shy of 10 years spent being controlled, manipulated, isolated and tortured, I am so adamant about not falling into the same trap twice. That's great; I need to feel empowered to be able to protect myself and heal, but I think recently I am crossing the line between normal and over-the-top. I got myself in a bit of trouble at work a few nights ago because I "kirked out" on someone I work with because he was crossing the boundaries I've set up in an effort to protect myself from being walked all over. Also, lately in my personal life, I've been over-protective of myself to the point that it's interfered with my relationship with J-E. He's the last person I should be afraid to let my guard down around, and I feel pretty rotten for lashing out at him. He doesn't deserve to be bombarded with every emotional state I cross through as I try to navigate my way through the emotional torment I've been living in since my ex began abusing me. I feel like such a volatile little entity these days, learning for the first time how to be my own person and protect myself from the dangers of this big, wide world.
Every day, I struggle to find the happy medium between protecting myself from all the bad people in this world, and letting in the few good ones I come across in life. I lost my faith in the idea that everyone is inherently good. I am so convinced, after everything my own husband put me through, that most people are just malicious souls who will tear you apart and take you for everything you've got if you let down your guard. It's not the outlook I wish to have on life, but it's the outlook I have to have in order to protect myself, at least while I try to heal and find myself in all the debris of my past life.
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