#also now im spiraling about wanting to fucking snap and dump all the shit that's bothering me on my bf

[sunshine-jack]

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#took a nap today on accident now it's almost 4am and i cant sleep!!!! why!!!!!!! #also now im spiraling about wanting to fucking snap and dump all the shit that's bothering me on my bf #literally what the fuck am i doing anymore why am i the caretaker im pissed bro #i saw a tiktok and now i cannot stop thinking about it #jesus christ the amount of unseen labor i am putting in is insane oh my god #anyways i start therapy on tuesday ✌ #rant #shut up jules #like this if you want pls dont send me any messages this time tho #i appreciated them a lot last time but it also meant that i spent the next day still pissed about it all and i dont have space to do that rn #<3

[daughterofhel]

Just, void screaming. Ignore

Is this a pity party? Honestly. Maybe. Which I hate even further but fuck man, I’ve got no one to talk to but need to feel like I’m talking to SOMEONE. This is just bitching and ranting and woe is me bullshit. Sorry; just figured Tumblr was the spot to do it. Easy to be lost to the void while somehow feeling public enough that I can convince myself it matters.

Not that I expect anyone to still be reading, as this really is just a stranger here throwing a fit, but I’d like to say I already am going to therapy.

That out of the way..

Holy. FUCK.

I’m trying so god damned hard to work on myself. To get better. Get over shit and improve and grow as a person and shits always shoving me back. I still keepnfuckin going but man some days it’s just fucking overwhelming and you spiral down. I hate how often I’m spiraling back down.

I hate how alone I feel even with a wonderful wife. She and I talk. None of this convo is something we haven’t talked about but I also don’t want to just dump my constant woes on the woman I love. To the only person who loves me without any strings or conditions or whatever. I adore her. But god are we both lonely. I worry strongly it’s partly my fault. I think often; I can’t help it but I really am working on it. But god damn. My parents were kinda warped and conditional with their affections for me.

Only once I got a little older did my mother really bother, since I was no longer a burden but could be of use. Especially once she had her own kids. Now when I do get graced with any kind of greeting it’s for a mix of things. Typically I means she’s about to hit my father up for money; which means she’s gotta make sure she and I are cool so that cash still keeps coming. Other times it’s cuz she wants that mother daughter bond thing we absolutely do not have and wants to pretend it’s there. Nearly every call we speak her traumas of the past get brought up.

And fuck I feel really bad that happened to you mom, I see how it’s really wrecked your life up even now and I’ve offered the best advice I can, I’ve offered the kinda words, the supporting words, done what I can to my own best ability. Even if it’s always just letting you speak about the rapes of your past that I don’t want to hear about at all. I know that sounds selfish but I’ve heard it a lot and I know they still bother you so much and I know I am not the person whose gonna help you work through those. Im just.. not.

I hate when she cries about how her life was ruined from the few years she was together with my father; how his abuse and manipulations to this day affect all these things. How she reminds me and talks about them in detail nearly ever call as if this is news? Woman, I grew up ALONE with him. I’m fuckin aware what he’s like and how that fucks you up, thanks.

It’s some kind of fucked up bonding to her. Our last call, with my grandmother in the hospital and I having FaceTimed to get updates and say hi to my grandmother (I live in another country than them) she loudly detailed her miserable life with my father in front of the nurses as she reminded me how she’d have to hide us in closets in the dark to calm and feed me as he’d snap at any noise. How he’d hurt her. How she took us out of that home from him before she decided it was more important I had my father in my life since hers never really was. How she did what she could but there was no winning custody from my father when it came down to it.

I’m so use to hearing two different stories from both my parents as they paint the other as bad and I remember more than I want to. I silently listen and mumble the appropriate words. But I know my mother is either in denial or magically forgotten her own shit just like my father has his own shit.

While he slept around and wasn’t home for days and shit she would lock herself in her room. Or she’d go out dressed up to the bars and shit and leave me locked in that room. Sometimes for a couple DAYS. I KNOW this.

It was just worse when they were both home though. God. The screaming and breaking of shit. I still can remember trying to clean snotty tears and blood off my mothers face as I apologized for being bad and making dad mad after he had picked her up by the throat and threw her through our crappy american drywall walls.

I hate how this came up in convo. I hate how she mentioned how she wasn’t sure if my father ever touched me; sexually. Like hers did to her before he fucked off forever. I also hate how much she kept trying to bring up stuff and cases where she thinks it might’ve been possible, as if I needed that to be a thing on top of the other shit. She kept talking about it as if she WANTED it to be true. For us to have another fucking thing to relate to each other. Which. HOLY fuck woman. I called to say hi to my possibly dying grandmother and get info on THAT. Not for any of this.

Honestly. I don’t know. I don’t know if dad did that shit. If so, that’s a really sealed tight fucking memory. I’m currently focusing on the, what my therapist flat out calls torture, he put me through. My very own Mr Jeckel and Mr Hyde. Me Perfect Mr Nightmare. At the flip of a switch back and fucking forth. Spoiled and tortured.

I had my first breakdown that I can recall at age 5. I barely remember that trailer but fuck I remember enough. I remember a solid week of constantly getting the leather belt and screamed at by that marine. I didn’t immediately pick up my toys. I was struggling to tie my shoes. I didn’t answer right away. I made a mess with my food. I almost burnt our soup I was supposed to be managing on the stove: I had my own stool and all. I just felt.. overwhelmed. I told a childish lie, I don’t remember the lie but he utterly lost it. Lying remains the very worst possible offense to my father. What was an attempt to avoid more beating and screaming turned into a long nightmare.

I don’t remember those walls. But I remember his face. I remember being sat on the counter, as he demanded I look him in the eyes when I was talking to him or being screamed at. I remember him visibly shaking, him being so so red. The veins popping out of his forehead and neck. The muscles on his arms in the shirts he always had to cut just to fit those arms through. I could draw that glare as he always held it close to mine to make sure I couldn’t and didn’t focus elsewhere. His interrogating. I know I thought I had caught a break when that landline started ringing. I’ve no idea who it was who called.

My dads teeth were gritted as he responded curtly to the person on the phone who wasn’t getting the hint he didn’t want to talk. And I remember, sitting so high up on that counter, alone with this man, knowing he was about to hang up and no one was gonna stop him, that I was never gonna get this right, that I just. Felt some hopeless I started laughing. I saw the look he shot me and I swear the memory still makes my stomach sink every ducking time. And I was crying cuz I couldn’t stop laughing. He hung up quick and demanded to know what I thought was funny. That did I think lying was funny? Of course I didn’t and my ‘I don’t know’ responses never ever were received well. I just. I couldn’t stop laughing.

God I’m glad I don’t remember the rest but I do know he fixed that laughing problem pretty quick. I only remember how much I hurt.

I have so many things to say, so many years of even more shit; the things you just learn to survive. How you learn to not play strong with a man whose strong enough to make it hurt if he suspects it isn’t. You learn he wants to hear you scream and cry. But to a certain degree; when I got to that barely breathing ugly crying with pouring snot sniffling stage he got grossed out and threatened he’d give me a real reason to cry if I didn’t cut that shit out. Leaning over a surface so it doesn’t matter if your legs give out as your there’d bare assed to a folded braided leather belt being brought down amidst yelling was only part of that shit.

Once the beating was done I was orders where I was to stand or sit waiting for him to call me into his office. This could sometimes be a few hours. And god forbid I moved; he moves so silently, occasionally checking to make sure I was ‘reflecting on what I did wrong.’ Assuming I didn’t fuck that up it would be time for a new round of mixed levels of yelling. A foot or two from his face he’d want me to inform him what I did wrong, that I didn’t want to be miserable and anything like my mother, that it’s hard enough on him when I’m not doing my job and he’s doing his. (My job being the house and my grades). Then it was time for me to explain how I’d avoid doing what I did wrong again, and then I was to pick an appropriate punishment.

Takin away my time to tv, my PlayStation, going outside or having friends over. This was its own test; if I was too light on the punishment he thought my offense deserved I’d get screamed at and beat there by hands of his like iron and sent back to my room to wait to further reflect with a 50-50 chance of him either calling me into his room to whip me or to give me a second chance with a worse longer punishment chosen by me for the now double offense.

I hate how awkward I am with gifts. I know it’s partly dads fault. He’d buy me all kinds of things all the time. I didn’t really ever ask. Not to the sheer amount he would go out and get and give stuff. I was to be appropriately thankful. But of course, if I messed up with having not finished all the chores (and the right way) or not responding to him quick enough, watching cartoons before I finished my homework, you name it, my new stuff often got broken in front of me. Snap and crushed and thrown and shattered as he screamed over me as I was also yelled at to pick that shit up. And fast.

So yeah mom. I’m sorry he ruined holidays and gifts for you. I’m honestly sorry you still think about your time with him and that it hurts you. But you’re talking to the wrong person. I’m aware what it’s like, and I know you know. You want to relate on that but not really hear much from me except validation to how much it’s fucked you up.

I wake from the dead of sleep when a door slams. I didn’t even wake when I was asleep in a carcrash, that’s how heavy I sleep, you hear? And this door thing isn’t new but it got revamped by an event when I was just out of highschool. We built a home in Texas and we had a lot of space. I just happened to met and know and bond with folks in shitty situations and offered them a place to live until they got on their feet. One of the girls begged for her mother’s dog to stay with us. Mind you she never took care of this dog. My other roommates and I did. I even built the lady a doghouse as well as buying a big water thing for outside since it’s TEXAS.

But one weekend I was dog sitting for a friend who was going out of town for a horse show she was part of. Big lanky playful pup. He wasn’t hurting the old little dog but he did keep trying to get her to play. The girl didn’t like that and kept separating them. I told her to not move that dog away from the shelter and water, it’s summer in Texas. I had been working a double shift (16hrs) and was fucning exhaushsted and just crashed on my bed with one of my friends. (I had a big bed. Often shared with a handful of people). Well, apparently that girl moved that dog far away from hers, leaving the poor thing chained up to a single tree, no shelter, no water, and he was crying. My father stormed into the basement madder than fucking hell.

He doesn’t tolerate animal abuse. I was barely an hour into sleep, unaware of the situation, when he grabs and yanks me by the ankle, it startled awake my fried next to me, as he screamed at me. I thought he was going to throw me against the wall. I was still not fully awake to process what he was screaming at me for. Which enraged him more. I figured out what it was and quickly moved the dog back to the shelter and water and reported to my still super pissed off father. I got pretty upset with that one roommate; it ended up being one of the many many things that I had her move out over. I’m not my father, even if angry at the other shit she had pulled, I packed her stuff and helped load it into her car as she went to live somewhere else. No matter how bad it got between me and some of my temporary roommates, I always packed their stuff and helped loaded it away.

But being jarred awake and fearing instantly for my life as I was face to face with my fathers rage has me still on alert with slamming doors.

And right now? Living with my wife’s parents and aunt, it’s becoming a slight problem. Our nephew spends most of his time here than he does at his own home. Since COVID he’s been to his own home less than a week in total. And his grandparents and great aunt are 100% enablers of really shitty behavior. They just want quiet so they left him have whatever he wants no matter what. Anytime my wife and I try to law down rules and enforce them he screamed and slammed shit, telling everyone to fuck off and how he hates them, loudest screaming he can manage, more slaming more screaming, and this can go on for an hour or more.

And the ‘adults’ yell at US and tell us off in front of the kid. He’s aware he will get what he wants. If he doesn’t want to go to school, he doesn’t go. This kid spent well than more days home than at school. Just cuz he didn’t feel like it and wanted to play video games. He watches stupid shit on Instagram and tilt ol and your Uber influencer folks and sees all this named brand shit and insists he HAS to have that shit. That shit that costs enough money to make your eyes buldge for a stupid crappy hoodie or his, no joke, 100th pair of shoes or newest PC assessory or whatever.

His mother time to time borrows money she doesn’t always pay back, cuz she and her boyfriend struggle with bills or feeding their own cats cuz she never tells this kid no since he throws a bitch fit. It’s wearing so fucking thin on us. It’s hard to dote and love on our nephew when he’s so shitty to his family. He refuses to go to therapy and no one makes him go. He literally less than a YEAR ago finally started wiping his own ASS, and he’s 11.

I’ve been warning him a lot lately to not have his laptop at the table cuz there’s a bunch of folks at the table with plates and bowls and multiple glasses of water, pitchers of water, and he’s gonna be really upset if he ruins his computer. He can just use his phone. It’s not like he stays at the table that long as it is. He’s been super bitchy about it but I’ve been very stern on it the last few days. Well, today he was fucking around with something with the water and got it on his phone. There were no paper towels.

So he threw an horrid fucking fit. Lost his entire fucking mind. As my wife and I are trying to reason with him and teach him to not react like this when things happen like that and to instead ask for help or thibk, what else can I use, like the kitchen towel for example, everyone’s enabling his tantrum and coddling it and telling us to hush up. We are trying to teach him how to fucking handle life! Any time any little thing doens go his way immediately he gives up or throws a fit or something! It’s not healthy. So we are trying to ask him to talk about why he’s feeling overwhelmed with this or that, help him figure out what can be done (or accept that sometimes that’s just how life is, what’s important it your attitude, a spilt glass is a spilt glass, whether you laugh or scream and cry. It’s happened. Your approach to how you handle that will make you a happier person and folks happier to be around you).

We help him where we can, try to show him things. But no one else cares! If it’s not an instant quick fix to what he wants we need to shut up and back off. And it just fucning sucks to see how this is only going to end badly! He isn’t being raised how to handle anything at all in life. His moms off living her single life with her boyfriend and we’re trying to raise this kid with three adults who are all making things worse and overriding any progress we make.

Today. He snatched his laptop and made a point of putting it on the table during us prepping dinner. I took it out and told him it can wait until he’s done with dinner, we’re already trying to fix his phone. He will survive one dinner without being on his phone or computer.

He throws himself to the fucking FLOOR screaming and crying. I get yelled at by one of the grandparents while the great aunt tried to ‘reason’ with me. Last time she distracted me with what I thought was genuine conversation she was actually having with me but was really jsut so the kid could sneak his laptop into the kitchen. So I stood my ground this time. Let the kid throw his stupid fit. Dinner will be finished soon and he can play and watch his videos. He literally takes 10 minutes to eat and leaves. I’m in the midst of helping my wife cook and set the table when I’m told to essentially shut up and let him have the laptop and.

I just got so mad. I apologizes to my wife but i know my limits. I know them. And I was about to do or say something. It’s every god damned day with this. I literally wake up to this kid screaming and bitching and slamming doors and throwing fits cuz he wants something and he’s not getting it. He literally got those tiny finger plastic skateboards cuz he saw and wanted them. And his mom came and picked him up to go BUY these when she’s nearly broke, yelled at us for calling him out on this and how he could have waited, and then ten minutes later ask us for money and food for her pets.

And today?

Today I was so fucking done. So fucking mad. So mad at how they treat my wife. So mad at how their attitudes are ruining the development of this kid who I really do love and I only see him getting shittier as a person. And I went to our room. And my wife joined and cried and cried. Of course the kid got his laptop and all was fine for everyone downstairs. Of course it was. My wife had already cooked dinner and prepped the table. I already folded and hung out the latest laundry. Who cares if we’re hurting.

On my way up the stairs I told that kid he’s an asshole. To be fair its almost daily he screams at us to go fuck our selves and that we are assholes and how he hates us. I told him he treats his family badly, the family who loves him. And that’s what I left it at. They’re all Italian. I’m still learning to speak so I’m not able to articulate myself super strongly. Which makes ALL OF THIS so much harder and more frustrating. So so so much harder. But I’m so tired of my wife crying. I’m so tired of how they treat her. I hate how her aunt texted how she loves her and then goes on to excuse this kids shit behavior and reprimand our actions and shit. Why is it the kids feelings are the only ones that matter? Why is my wife constant collateral? You’re damned right I’m fuckin mad.

I’m struggling to work on overcoming my own personal problems and triggers with this EDMR therapy and I’m wakin up up a cocktail of some of my literal nightmares and the kid and family KNOW IT. They don’t know the finer details like my wife and therapist. But fuck man. They KNOW and yet they let him keep behaving like this. They keep telling us we are wrong and we’re being too hard on the kid and he’s struggling cuz his parents divorced.

Well shit kid. That sucks. I’m sorry. That’s rough. But you literally have a huge family of people who adore and love you. My god I would love to have that. Right now? The fucked up part? My closest kindest most helpful person in my life besides my wife is my father. His age has mellowed him out. He’s still fucked on some stuff. But it’s been nearly 30 years. He’s not totally changed but he surly is worlds away from the man I started out with. His financial help provides us food on the table. He recently helped us get a new fridge so my wife’s parents can use it without bending and hurting their backs.

Today I get informed by my mother in law, who had not been present for any of tonight’s drama, that my wife needs to stop and that I am to not curse as her grand son ever again. Which, I said he was being an asshole? Cuz he was? He was screaming Curses at us, has been nearly every day anytime he’s mad. I called him out. I didn’t scream it; I don’t scream. I want to be nothing like my father. But I did call him out. Am I proud for calling an 11 boy he’s an asshole? Erm. No. But god he’s emotionally abusive to this family ajd they allow and encourage it. I’m so scared he’s gonna end up pushing one of them in his fits and it’s gonna hurt one of them badly or worse! Their health’s already shaky. We’ve already had to help her father up the stairs and to the bathroom and get dressed and undressed due to him feeling back. Hell today my wife took him to a few different docs. It’s been a long fucking day.

This kid was being horribly rude and nasty to my wife. To the grandparents who love him. Was close to breaking stuff. All cuz he had to eat without his laptop! Cuz he didn’t listen and got water on his fuckin phone! Which is now working thank god; we fixed that. I just.

I want to cancel therapy. Wise? No. Probably not. But we NEED to get out of here.

We already don’t really have any friends. We kinda do. But it’s.. kinda temporary conditional. Generally more along the lines of ‘work’ related or we’re the only ones free at that moment in time. Not that they’re bad folks they just don’t need us like we need in return.

Personally I know I have problems. I’m boring. I’ve abandonment issues I have and still am working on. And I overthink and I’m so worried that this fucking cluster of things just.. make me one of those folks doomed to just. Not have friends. I hate myself every waking moment of my fucking life cuz I so badly want friends. I wish I didn’t. I have tried and tried to not want it. But I do. And it sucks. I know it’s me; when something keeps happening it’s clear you’re the problem. And I ask often. Maybe once a week, a month for sure, my wife what I am doing wrong. What I’m not doing enough. What I could do better. She doesn’t have any answers and I can’t keep asking her. I hate to ask. I hate wearing her down. I don’t know what to do. I am just a fun fling friend. A week, a month, sometimes a year or so, but then it dwindles and dies off

And I spent all my life living between homes when it wasn’t with my father, giving up on my privacy, on my interests, my freedom, to put on a smile ajd take on new chores, often caring for kids, and swallowing my own feelings and being less than second or even third place in anyone’s life; I just want someone to choose me first you know? I miss the days of having friends who were excited to have free time cuz that meant they had time to hang out or chat or something! I don’t beg; I won’t beg. I don’t want to have to fight for a slot in someone’s schedule and pray I get lucky. I also know I can’t expect people to have the same wants in a relationship as I do. And so I’m stuck. Sad, quiet, and thankful for what I get when I get it, and quietly letting stuff go. Because the few friends I have are decent folk, but I’m never going to be that friend folks want to be around to just be around.

And I’m still struggling to accept that. Cuz fuck. Alright it hurts. I look back and every friendship lasted only as long as I had something to provide in service. Once I couldn’t provide or they found something better, either they drifted off or just completely dropped off the radar. And that…

That sucks so fuckin much. I don’t think I’m a shitty person? I think I can be entertaining? I listen. Maybe my humor isn’t okay? I ramble too much? Too spacey? I go over the list so often I don’t even know. I’m tired.

I’m not talking romantic here but god I do want to be loved. Or at least have a couple folks good at faking it. I hate that I miss my most toxic friendships. At least they were around. I knew theyd talk to me. Want to. Would seek me out. I knew free days meant we were gonna chill (not always but a good chance!). And I know adult friendships are a bit different. I know work and romance and family take the front seat.

I just want to matter to someone a little more than the one use I can provide. I want to be more than a fun temporary distraction.

I’m beyond thankful for the woman I married. And I mourn that her friends live far away too. We both just want friends. I want to have my wife tell me she’ll be back late cuz she’s going out. I want to see her send me a silly photo or a food snap and have her come back home late, glowing and laughing and smiling with her friends. I want to invite them over to dinner and be on comfortable terms with them. I want to goofy around and be loud and rough house and geek out with my own friends. I want to have that found family you know?

Nearly everyone’s dead on my fathers side and whose left is.. best left alone. Or has made it clear they don’t thibk much of me. Ajd my mother’s side don’t talk to me. I moved so much I don’t know them and most of them never bothered cuz they never thought I’d survive as it were. My mother’s burnt bridges and that means any chance I had is pretty much gone. I don’t know where each and every cousin and and it’s just wierd to try and connect cuz we have blood. It’s just. Been too many many years. And it’s not like a single persons ever reached out my way you know? Polite to my face and I so back. But that’s the end of it.

God I’m just so burnt out. I’m so sad more than not. I’m trying to get out of my funk. I hate how I stay in bed. I don’t mean to. I just. It’s our only space to be left alone in, for the most part. Every home I’ve lived in being alone was best. My room (if I had that, or at the least it was shared with someone else), was one of the few solace’s. Usually my only real peace was the bathroom.

And I am finding it hard to break out of that. I want to quit therapy and save up money and get us OUT of here. I feel my progress would go better and my wife would be so much happier if we could just Get Out.

Maybe we’d even be fortunate and meet some friends who liked us and wanted to be around, if we had our own place? A fun possibility. I am use to running a house. I’ve done it countless times. It was my job with my father. Often it was a strange mash up of that with other families but with a lot less freedom.

I’ve stayed up all night cuz I feel like puking and I’m drowning and I needed to just.. get the thoughts out of my head just a little. I know I’ve only scratched the surface. I haven’t shared everything. I don’t really plan to. But these are the things most in my head

Dealing with this shit. On top of this therapy that has me reliving my childhood traumas one at a time to heal them over or some shit on top of waking up to screaming and doors slamming as my wife gets yelled at for trying to stop that situation sucks. Seeing my phone buzz only to constantly see just comic updates (often to comics I’m not even waiting on), my father messaging me either bad news or stuff he’s doing, and my mother with her bullshit and her bad news and guilt trips, instead of a friendly hello is just.

I’m tired of crying too. My fathers discipline has made me adverse to crying. I literally tore myself off the road when I wrecked my motorcycle, I forced my knee to bend so I could continue on my way to work where I treated the road rash, the rolled flesh, the open wounds, with rubbing alcohol— which took the breath right out of my fucking lungs, and I didn’t cry. But this shit?

I’m so worn. My therapist praises me for surviving when I wish I didn’t.

For my wife? I will try. For her. I can’t hurt her.

But god. What’s fucking relief it would be. I wish there was just something I could do. To fix this. To be less selfish and problematic. Though as I can very clearly remember wishing all my life for any kind of mercy to never see it, I know that’s not gonna happen. You are your own hero or your own villian. Right now I’m both and I’m losing.

I’m probably gonna just get dressed since the suns up and start drawing more wood plans. I need to make extra money. I can be sad and work; I’ve had jobs before. Ha.

I thoroughly believe life will be a little better once we have breathing room. I’m so tired.

#don’t read #just let me void scream #I’ll get over it #always do