about everything. Obviously.
Same as I don’t talk about everything. I don’t think anyone does.
What I do write, though, is painfully honest. And yeah, it’s self-centered drivel, but I don’t care, my blog. And I don’t like to put up alot of other people’s lives up here; just because I find it liberating to write whatever where anyone can see it, doesn’t mean I should impose that on others.
And some stuff is too confronting, too boring, too traumatising, too whatever.
People still judge though, on what they read, or in ‘real life’ on what they see.
And my god, it pisses me off. But I’ll write more about that later. I just seem to be copping it a bit lately, from people who have not much idea of what is going on with me.
No-one has asked if I’m ok. If I need a hand. If theres something I’m not telling them.
It’s like people just assume I’m acting screwy for the hell of it. And that hurts.
I’m past feeling like I owe anyone an explanation at least.
So far past it, I’m just about at WHITE HOT MOTHERFUCKING RAGE. Really, where the HELL do people get off assuming my life is easy, just because I can (usually) keep my shit together just enough for public appearances, look after B-man and go to my very part-time job.
I just…can’t seem to get to what I’m trying to say…
I’m sick of being judged, but I know nothing I do is going to stop it. I never thought me seeming sick, would make people assume pretty much everything and anything other than that I’M ACTUALLY SICK. I must be a pill junkie, or an alcoholic, or just awfully selfish and lazy.
I shouldn’t have to explain myself. And if one of my friends or a family member started acting not like themselves, I’d be worried, ask what’s up.
I certainly wouldn’t totally invade their privacy, for example by looking through their house and sheds while they’re at work, even going as far as looking through the medicine cabinet, and STEALING the most incriminating items I could find.
Which, by the way, was half a bottle of vodka and ONE cigarette. For emergencies.
HOLY SHIT I am a badass, get me to rehab!
I hope they feel like MORONS. Because I have absolutely NOTHING to hide. There is nothing on this whole property I could get in trouble for.
‘We’ve just been worried, you haven’t seemed yourself’
“OH, I haven’t SEEMED MYSELF after my life falling apart?? Imagine that! How about ASKING me about it?”
“Don’t take it so personally, you can’t blame us for looking into the situation, there’s Bailey to consider, and he hasn’t seemed that well on the odd occasion you bring him down, and he’s a bit thin”
“My child is fine. Thanks for your concern. I feel really able to come to you if I start having a hard time handling life”
And that’s that, I’d say.
The concern over Bailey, that hurts though. Because I fucking DOTE on that kid. I’m not the most natural mother, hell, I was told I would never have kids so he’s kind of the surprise of my life but I LOVE him. I can honestly say he has never ever gone without. For anything. Anything within my control that is, of course he misses Daddy.
I looked at 4 different schools for him because I knew our local public wouldn’t suit. I hate cooking, but I do it because I hate feeding him processed shit. I love hanging out with him, and he is the sort of kid you can take anywhere and know he’ll behave. He comes to work with me, and loves ‘helping’ put the horses to bed.
I love being a parent. And I hate how defensive one comment has made me.
Family….
x
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Hypersensationalism 