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shamanicshaymin) wrote2011-10-14 01:05 am
shamanicshaymin) wrote2011-10-14 01:05 am
Entry tags:
- family,
- fml,
- irl,
- wangst,
- writing woes
Happy? Who, me?
So Mom and Dad tend to have a massive blow-up argument at least once a night or so. I've been blocking them the best that I could, but lately, it's like it's pervaded the entire mood of the house and I feel myself cracking.
Anyone who knows me knows I don't do well under conflict. At all.
Lately, Mom and I have been fighting a lot. Just yesterday, we snapped at each other, I called her a bitch (and I typically never, ever, curse in front of my family) and this led to punishment and even more angry spats between us. We've finally cooled down and apologized, but not after yet another fight.
By the way. My Mom had an eye examination, and she has cataracts. Which can't be removed by surgery.
Our lives just keep getting better and better, don't they?
I'm going to see a psychologist on Tuesday, because for the past several months, I've been very, very unhappy. And with these past few weeks, it's just getting worse. I've lost interest in video games, music, Internet and other typical things I like, and any excitement I get like getting to a con, playing a new game I've been curious about, hanging out with James and friends or getting new plushies, etc... it all sinks like a stone and I don't feel hyped anymore and I sit there with muddied clouds in my head. Pretty much all that I look forward to is sleeping, because I feel too depressed to do anything. Which unfortunately doesn't last long.
It's bad enough I rarely go on AIM or moan on LJ or talk to friends anymore because I feel like I'll just annoy them to death by whining about the same subject over and over again. I feel like eventually, they'll get tired of me and tell me to get up and stop complaining and do something about it and I'll say I honestly don't know. Then they'd give up on me because I'm always sad and hopeless and don't want to be friends anymore. I know it's ridiculous and I know my closest friends wouldn't think of me that way, but somehow the thought lingers and it sticks to me like a tumor. I know it's unhealthy. I just don't want to feel like I'm bothering people I care about and pushing them all away.
My Writer's Block has hit an all-time low (more like, deeper than scum), and when I actually sat down to write/type something, it's so fucking bland and horrible and a trillion things wrong that I'm ashamed of myself and hate my writing even more. I couldn't even describe what a certain room looks like, but I spent eight entire pages in my notebook with all my worries and fears and nitpicks and basically anything that can or has already gone wrong with my novel, which is more than I've ever written in well... forever. And that's just pathetic. Which I planned to type in my journal, but I'm crying too much right now, and if I try typing it all up now, I'll be reduced to a blubbering mess again. Not that anyone cares about how I'm doing on my book anyway. I don't even know if I'll even bother typing up those pages after all, I always get so distracted.
I could read something, but I can't concentrate on anything without feeling frustrated and thinking about everything else but the book itself. I'm taking a break from American Psycho, got bored with American Gods (I was disappointed how sparse Gaiman's description of House on the Rock was, and his writing style in general felt dry) and now I'm trying to read Maurice by E.M. Forster (Finally! A homosexual relationship between men with a happy ending!), except I have no idea if I'll be able to get through it because at one or two parts, the main character tries to "cure his homosexuality" through therapy (it fails, but still), which is one of my Berserk Buttons regarding LGBT literature and I don't know if I can make it through without getting irrationally angry and... I don't know. I feel like the littlest things are setting me off right now, which makes it hard for me to read.
To make things worse, my family's running low on money (AGAIN), so I don't get as many sessions with my psychologist as I did the last time I needed him (I think around before I started college), which means it's only about 45 minutes a session. Where do I even start? How much longer will I have and how much can we afford? Will I even be able to tell him everything? What if I miss telling him something important and then it's already too late? Mom said she wants to help by making a list of things I can talk to him about, but I am so horrible at organization and so picky about trying to remember every single thing that I don't think it's going to help.
In short, I'm a clusterfuck.
Anyone who knows me knows I don't do well under conflict. At all.
Lately, Mom and I have been fighting a lot. Just yesterday, we snapped at each other, I called her a bitch (and I typically never, ever, curse in front of my family) and this led to punishment and even more angry spats between us. We've finally cooled down and apologized, but not after yet another fight.
By the way. My Mom had an eye examination, and she has cataracts. Which can't be removed by surgery.
Our lives just keep getting better and better, don't they?
I'm going to see a psychologist on Tuesday, because for the past several months, I've been very, very unhappy. And with these past few weeks, it's just getting worse. I've lost interest in video games, music, Internet and other typical things I like, and any excitement I get like getting to a con, playing a new game I've been curious about, hanging out with James and friends or getting new plushies, etc... it all sinks like a stone and I don't feel hyped anymore and I sit there with muddied clouds in my head. Pretty much all that I look forward to is sleeping, because I feel too depressed to do anything. Which unfortunately doesn't last long.
It's bad enough I rarely go on AIM or moan on LJ or talk to friends anymore because I feel like I'll just annoy them to death by whining about the same subject over and over again. I feel like eventually, they'll get tired of me and tell me to get up and stop complaining and do something about it and I'll say I honestly don't know. Then they'd give up on me because I'm always sad and hopeless and don't want to be friends anymore. I know it's ridiculous and I know my closest friends wouldn't think of me that way, but somehow the thought lingers and it sticks to me like a tumor. I know it's unhealthy. I just don't want to feel like I'm bothering people I care about and pushing them all away.
My Writer's Block has hit an all-time low (more like, deeper than scum), and when I actually sat down to write/type something, it's so fucking bland and horrible and a trillion things wrong that I'm ashamed of myself and hate my writing even more. I couldn't even describe what a certain room looks like, but I spent eight entire pages in my notebook with all my worries and fears and nitpicks and basically anything that can or has already gone wrong with my novel, which is more than I've ever written in well... forever. And that's just pathetic. Which I planned to type in my journal, but I'm crying too much right now, and if I try typing it all up now, I'll be reduced to a blubbering mess again. Not that anyone cares about how I'm doing on my book anyway. I don't even know if I'll even bother typing up those pages after all, I always get so distracted.
I could read something, but I can't concentrate on anything without feeling frustrated and thinking about everything else but the book itself. I'm taking a break from American Psycho, got bored with American Gods (I was disappointed how sparse Gaiman's description of House on the Rock was, and his writing style in general felt dry) and now I'm trying to read Maurice by E.M. Forster (Finally! A homosexual relationship between men with a happy ending!), except I have no idea if I'll be able to get through it because at one or two parts, the main character tries to "cure his homosexuality" through therapy (it fails, but still), which is one of my Berserk Buttons regarding LGBT literature and I don't know if I can make it through without getting irrationally angry and... I don't know. I feel like the littlest things are setting me off right now, which makes it hard for me to read.
To make things worse, my family's running low on money (AGAIN), so I don't get as many sessions with my psychologist as I did the last time I needed him (I think around before I started college), which means it's only about 45 minutes a session. Where do I even start? How much longer will I have and how much can we afford? Will I even be able to tell him everything? What if I miss telling him something important and then it's already too late? Mom said she wants to help by making a list of things I can talk to him about, but I am so horrible at organization and so picky about trying to remember every single thing that I don't think it's going to help.
In short, I'm a clusterfuck.