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Trying to make sense of it all - Part 1
a year ago
Hello. Honestly I'm not sure what I'm exactly hoping to get out of this. Maybe I'm just wanting to get my thoughts in order for once and confirm things? Maybe looking for justification? Or it could be I really no longer care about some of my anonymity and just feel like it's time to air things out, even if someone manages to figure out who I am behind the furry.
So if you're not interested in someone talking and rambling about their life then you might not want to read further, and go check on something more fun. However if you really want to give this a read or give an opinion that's always welcome. Maybe it would even justify the feelings I'm starting to get.
Well, I guess I should start with what really started me thinking about doing this. I recently got a tattoo on my arm which was to celebrate losing a lot of weight and keeping up with doing good things for myself. During the healing process I was told that for 2 weeks after bandage removal I would need to lotion it every few hours every day. So I've been slathering my arm in lotion every day.
Honestly I don't mind lotion too much sometimes, but I always hate how it made my hands feel weird and greasy. I'm sure that was the point, but I just felt like I was getting grease everywhere because of it. It doesn't help I was, and still am, a somewhat greasy kid.
While driving to work last week and just mulling on it I started to remember a routine that was almost daily at my house when I was younger. My mom would work all day, and dad was not around because divorce, absent, golfing, etc etc. Along with that my older brother would be the normal teenage rebel. Friends, drugs, sex, etc. So because of that I had to end up being the person taking care of my younger brothers after school and the weekends.
What would normally happen afterwards is that our mom would eventually get home late. sometimes just because work day was done, other time it was because of an issue that was caused by a younger brother who was ADHD and had some issues. So when she would get home she would want to rest and would guilt trip me to helping her with that. What this usually ended up being was walking on her back a lot. Then massaging her feet with lotions for several minutes. Usually until she said she was satisfied. Then she would pick at my hair with a comb looking for dandruff or spots to comb out like she was preening a monkey. During all of this she would go on about how stressful work was, or how stressful dad was, or finances, or my brothers, or just how things are terrible and I was the only supportive one. Honestly as a kid I think I took some joy in that, but now it just felt... It felt like I was being used to unload on. like some sort of therapy pet. And I imagine a lot of it was largely due to wanting to feel some sort of acceptance with her. She didn't accept dad, she didn't seem to accept my older brother, and the youngest was a mess and a wild child while honestly my yonger seemed to be... seperate from us? Honestly I never thought about it till now.
Anyway, it's kind of a fun thing to think about when driving to work that day. like a light bulb clicked on and you realized the brown sweet chocolate of youth looked more like a melted snickers that could be mistaken for a turd. Funny that this all came to thought because of a tattoo that I know she would probably hate and disown me for having, not that I would care if she did at this point.
Anyway, it started to make me wonder how she really saw me. Thinking more about it I seem to really only see her for holidays at times, and birthdays are very awkward at best. Considering she drives by with her husband and my step-dad (Whole other kettle of ugly fish there) on my birthday to very quickly drop off a bag of either oreos, or a jar of peaches, or this last time it was a 'gift set' of 3 jars of jelly from sams club. Honestly it almost feels more like a token effort. Not that I don't appreciate being remembered but it kinda hurts a little when you're given the same consideration as a quick gift at an office party.
This all really came to a head last weekend. Fathers day. I sent a quick text to my dad because I know he's usually working and realized he hadn't even talked to me for over 6 months, and it was just to request I check on his dog while he was out of town. Honestly stung. Then a couple days later I get a text from my mom just asking 'are you okay?' and that's it. Not a call, no come over, just a quick wellfare check in case I died a month ago I guess? Really the only time my parents reach out to me for anything is if they need something or it's a holiday like some sort of obligation. and honestly it drives me crazy because a part of me thinks I caused something and nobody will tell me what.
Which is par for the course of this family. Nobody tells anyone anything. I never know when my older brother is in town, and my younger I never know if he was in or out of prison until I ask about it. And yes, I'm serious about that.
Anyway, that was my rant for something that recently popped into my head for me to unravel. Hopefully make sense of this furious ball of anxiety and depression that really needs to be picked apart once and for all.
I'm going to get some tea and some toast with jelly
So if you're not interested in someone talking and rambling about their life then you might not want to read further, and go check on something more fun. However if you really want to give this a read or give an opinion that's always welcome. Maybe it would even justify the feelings I'm starting to get.
Well, I guess I should start with what really started me thinking about doing this. I recently got a tattoo on my arm which was to celebrate losing a lot of weight and keeping up with doing good things for myself. During the healing process I was told that for 2 weeks after bandage removal I would need to lotion it every few hours every day. So I've been slathering my arm in lotion every day.
Honestly I don't mind lotion too much sometimes, but I always hate how it made my hands feel weird and greasy. I'm sure that was the point, but I just felt like I was getting grease everywhere because of it. It doesn't help I was, and still am, a somewhat greasy kid.
While driving to work last week and just mulling on it I started to remember a routine that was almost daily at my house when I was younger. My mom would work all day, and dad was not around because divorce, absent, golfing, etc etc. Along with that my older brother would be the normal teenage rebel. Friends, drugs, sex, etc. So because of that I had to end up being the person taking care of my younger brothers after school and the weekends.
What would normally happen afterwards is that our mom would eventually get home late. sometimes just because work day was done, other time it was because of an issue that was caused by a younger brother who was ADHD and had some issues. So when she would get home she would want to rest and would guilt trip me to helping her with that. What this usually ended up being was walking on her back a lot. Then massaging her feet with lotions for several minutes. Usually until she said she was satisfied. Then she would pick at my hair with a comb looking for dandruff or spots to comb out like she was preening a monkey. During all of this she would go on about how stressful work was, or how stressful dad was, or finances, or my brothers, or just how things are terrible and I was the only supportive one. Honestly as a kid I think I took some joy in that, but now it just felt... It felt like I was being used to unload on. like some sort of therapy pet. And I imagine a lot of it was largely due to wanting to feel some sort of acceptance with her. She didn't accept dad, she didn't seem to accept my older brother, and the youngest was a mess and a wild child while honestly my yonger seemed to be... seperate from us? Honestly I never thought about it till now.
Anyway, it's kind of a fun thing to think about when driving to work that day. like a light bulb clicked on and you realized the brown sweet chocolate of youth looked more like a melted snickers that could be mistaken for a turd. Funny that this all came to thought because of a tattoo that I know she would probably hate and disown me for having, not that I would care if she did at this point.
Anyway, it started to make me wonder how she really saw me. Thinking more about it I seem to really only see her for holidays at times, and birthdays are very awkward at best. Considering she drives by with her husband and my step-dad (Whole other kettle of ugly fish there) on my birthday to very quickly drop off a bag of either oreos, or a jar of peaches, or this last time it was a 'gift set' of 3 jars of jelly from sams club. Honestly it almost feels more like a token effort. Not that I don't appreciate being remembered but it kinda hurts a little when you're given the same consideration as a quick gift at an office party.
This all really came to a head last weekend. Fathers day. I sent a quick text to my dad because I know he's usually working and realized he hadn't even talked to me for over 6 months, and it was just to request I check on his dog while he was out of town. Honestly stung. Then a couple days later I get a text from my mom just asking 'are you okay?' and that's it. Not a call, no come over, just a quick wellfare check in case I died a month ago I guess? Really the only time my parents reach out to me for anything is if they need something or it's a holiday like some sort of obligation. and honestly it drives me crazy because a part of me thinks I caused something and nobody will tell me what.
Which is par for the course of this family. Nobody tells anyone anything. I never know when my older brother is in town, and my younger I never know if he was in or out of prison until I ask about it. And yes, I'm serious about that.
Anyway, that was my rant for something that recently popped into my head for me to unravel. Hopefully make sense of this furious ball of anxiety and depression that really needs to be picked apart once and for all.
I'm going to get some tea and some toast with jelly
