I decided I needed to take my pants off. It improved my disposition greatly.

I’m just a regular woman, living in Michigan, 22 years old, 2 cats, there’s nothing extraordinary or fantastic about me, so I assume that my thoughts can’t be too exciting to anyone other than myself. But that’s quite all right, because this blog is first and foremost, for myself and nobody else. This will hold the chronicles of my boring life as I try to change myself for the better, I’m hoping to write every day, or every other day at least, but we’ll just have to see.

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Location: Grand Blanc, Michigan, United States

Friday, May 05, 2006

At the end of my Noose

I think I’m going crazy because I increasingly feel like the only sane person around.

My grandmother is strung out on pain pills, while my mom takes handfuls of ativan to stay numb, and that’s on top of the whole family being addicted to marijuana for over 20 years.

Today my mom delivered an ultimatum. “Get a job, or move home in 5 months when your lease is up.”

What the hell good is my getting a job going to do? I’ve never worked more than 20 hours a week, for nothing more than 8 dollars an hour. Never mind the constant physical pain and the mental turmoil, I should force myself to work a minimum wage job to try and scrap together 200 dollars a month to help with the bills.

I was denied for Medicaid and Emergency Monetary Assistance, my food stamps run out on May 8th, and I’ve been denied twice for Social Security. I’m running out of reasons to see the point in going on. I seriously feel that the only way Social Security is going to take my case seriously is if I make a suicide attempt that puts me into the hospital, if I die, then that’s just one less thing for my mom to worry about.

My grandfather and stepfather seem to think that I’m some sort of genius that could make millions of dollars working on computers or selling real estate. They don’t get that before I dropped out of high school the only subject I was good at was English. They don’t get that seven years of shoveling anti-depressants and anti-psychotics into my system has left my brain a foggy mushy haze. I can’t remember the simplest things, phone numbers, addresses, birthdays. I’ve had a friend for over 5 years, and I’ll never remember her birthday, hell, I can’t even remember what month it’s in. I can’t remember directions, I’m constantly lost in the car, hell, I even have trouble with left and right. I had to leave my last job because I forgot a simple instruction that was apparently given to me earlier that year. I have no recollection of ever being told what I was told before.

I feel like I’m being crushed by the weight of bad omens. I cannot move back home, I felt like a prisoner who would do anything to escape, it was hell; I cannot go back, it’s not an option. My moods have only stabilized since I’ve gotten away from my family, I was miserable, irritable, and stuck in a deep, heavy depression the entire time I was there. I would rather die. I would rather kill myself.

As for working…I am in constant pain, I suppose if I could get a job in data entry or something simple like that, it would be ok…but I don’t even know how to find a job. I’ve always worked retail, McDonalds, video game stores, computer stores, comic book stores.

I can’t take any stress now. I feel like I’ll snap into two. I yelled at my mom today, but she deserved it. After making me give her all of my ativan for 6 months, she lies to the doctor and says she’s been taking a little more than usual. Bull. She’s been popping 5 or 6 a day sometimes. In fact, once, she went through all 30 of mine in a week. She blackmailed and bribed me to hand them over, or else I wouldn’t have. So what happens? The doctor prescribes her more. I can’t be responsible for her.

This is the beginning of the end. I can feel it.