jr wrote:
I'm just a community member here, but I don't see how this topic fits in with this: "Practice accepting yourself & celebrate your recovery achievements through positive self-talk."
I don't know how it fits either- maybe I am accepting myself finally because I'm laughing and crying right now at the same time. My family is so god damn dysfunctional- I'm dysfunctional- I'm functioning for the unfunctionable. My parents must be disappointed in me. My brothers are all successful, one is even a "genius", the other a doctor, and I'm just this idiot. My mother used to take my drawings to work when I was a kid to show her coworkers. I felt like she took something from me so I started to destroy them and write F U all over them and things like "mom I know you're looking at this so F U!" Maybe she really wasn't looking at them, maybe she only did it once or twice and I'd gotten paraniod and continued to believe that she'd looked at them. They were all she had to show for of me, that's how I felt. I was suicidal since I was a child- I used to tell my grandmother that I wished I was dead. I lived with her for a while until she died- she fell down a flight of stairs after she'd escorted me out the door for school. My mother used to drive me to school, it was like the least she could do seeing as she wasn't really my mother at all. My grandmother used to put salt water in the corner and tell me that my guardian angel was crying because I used to swing my feet under the table at breakfast and she said the devil swings on little girl's feet. This was her way of teaching me manners, but she could have said something normal like "Young ladies don't swing their feet under the table" I mean what kind of grandmother goes thru the insane trouble of planting fake angel tears to trick their granddaughter into believing that there is a holy war going on over table etiquette? She also used to barricade the apartment door at night after my grandfather had died. She'd move a shelf in front of the door and she put his gun on top of the shelf for protection. I always thought that was stupid because if someone did break in, if they didn't have a gun to begin with she was essentially giving them a gun to kill us with. I didn't sleep well about this and I got in trouble a few times because I'd eat when I woke up, usually chocolate, which did not help the situation. I'm sure the angels were crying about that too. My brother was put in a mental hospital in virginia when he was 19 because he'd tried to kill himself because my parents forced him to join the naval academy.
...and right now it's all a breeze funny for me, it's just so sick it's funny. I talked about before laughing to cope and I'm beyond coping right now I'm in the stratosphere looking for a star to make
my MF rockstar! I want to roll in hair until my pores bleed hair. I put some of the hair in an old salsa container so it would be less offensive to keep on the coffee table. Over the weekend I put the hair on the dining room table while my boyfriend and two of his buddies were eating. It's still like stuck to the table cloth- i think I'm going to have to wash it. I just wish I had someone to talk to.