patheticallyhonest - Tumblr blog

[patheticallyhonest]

I woke up angry this morning, I guess.

I'm angry at everything that's gone wrong in my life. I'm angry about how I've been done dirty, as arrogant as it feels to try and assert that I deserved better. I'm angry about the world we live in, about the people who I'm forced to share it with.

I'm angry that I grew up with my dad treating me like his little personal servant. As long as I was living under his roof, and was old enough to actually do things, that lazy motherfucker had me putting on his socks for him. He had me drop whatever I was doing whenever he felt like it to demand that I make him coffee.

I'm angry that even though I've managed to wriggle myself free from under his thumb, my sister still lives there, forced to care for his ass because he's too lazy to do things himself. It's one thing to expect that a child living under your roof contributes to the household, but he just... straight up doesn't do anything for himself. My mom owns and runs a bakery, works insanely long hours, and rather than make his own lunch at home, that lazy asshole will sometimes just drive right down to the bakery to have her make him lunch for free.

I'm angry that he doesn't care enough about himself to do the bare minimum when it comes to maintaining his own health. He's made no real effort to quit smoking cigarettes despite it having caused him health issues in the past. He's developed diabetes because he doesn't watch what he puts in his body and he doesn't do any sort of exercise to counteract his unhealthy eating habits.

I'm angry at how inconsiderate he can be of others. The other day I went to a fast food place with him and when we were done eating, he didn't bother bringing his tray to where it was supposed to go, or throwing any of his garbage away. He was just like "yeah, they'll clean it up." While he and my sister went to the car, I stuck around and picked up after him. Worst part is I don't know if it was to apologize to the fast food staff for his arrogant laziness, or if it was just habit. I've been wiping his ass (metaphorically, thank God), for as long as I can remember.

I'm angry that I recognize some of my own behaviors as having been inherited from him, whether through genetics or as a result of my upbringing. Whenever I feel the urge to be lazy, or I procrastinate on doing a household chore, or I decide to order in food rather than cook for myself at home, part of me silently blames him.

Most of all though, I'm angry that he's not enough of an asshole for me to just file away my feelings towards him under "hate". That he's done just enough good things for me that when his lifestyle inevitably ends up killing him, the emotions I'll feel will be messy and complicated. He drives me to my work every morning because I don't own a car. Granted, it's just because it's on his way to his own job, but still. He rode me hard about doing my homework when I was a kid, and I can directly attribute my proficiency in both English and French to his high expectations of me when it came to schoolwork. Though he initially responded negatively to me coming out as trans, he now calls me by my chosen name and genders me correctly.

[patheticallyhonest]

Why do I always feel like it would be burdensome to let my friends or my family know the truth about what I'm feeling, how I'm doing? Like, for instance, in my friend group of mentally ill Discord trannies there's this one girl who has BPD and like clockwork there'll be some sort of friction, like for example we'll do a groupwatch of something without her because we pinged her and waited for like an hour for her to show up and she doesn't show because this broad has no consistent sleep schedule, and it's not fair to everyone else who was looking forward to our groupwatch to suddenly cancel it just because one of us didn't show, and then she'll get either all angry or sad or both that she ended up missing out and she'll like, start going on about how we all only tolerate her presence and don't actually like her and sometimes she'll even just up and quit the server, only to return maybe the next day, or a few days later depending on like, how long the server owner decides to let her cool down for before sending her another invite. It's exhausting to deal with.

The thing is, I don't hate her. Nor do I hold a grudge against her for being mentally ill; who among us and all that shit, right? She a pretty fun person to be around actually. Her jokes aren't all that funny, but not everyone has to be the comedian of the group, right? I like being around her when she's not having a meltdown. Or clinging to a really annoying bit for dear life. But that's besides the point. I'm willing to take the good with the bad when it comes to her. That's the point of a friendship, right? There's a phrase for a so-called friend who doesn't stick around for your time of need. A fair-weather friend. But here's the thing. I know my shit's all fucked up. I'm kind of really good at not letting it show through, but a lot of days (especially since I broke up with my long-term partner) I feel like I'm barely holding it together. It feels like a monumental effort to exist and do the things that I need to do to keep a roof over my head. I just got a new job and I'm three days in and I've cried from just the stress of learning these new things on pretty much each of those days. Every day I've gotten out of bed for this new job I've had to sort of patronizingly pat myself on the back and tell myself "I'm literally being so brave right now."

But my mental health issues don't manifest in the same way as that friend of mine. I don't start spiraling and demanding validation from my friends while simultaneously shooting down any attempts at providing said validation from my friends. If I were to express how I feel, I know that I'd be a whole lot less tedious to deal with than my friend when she's having one of her patented meltdowns. So then, back to my initial question: why, knowing this, do I still decide that I should just keep my issues to myself, be self-reliant, not trouble any others with my shit? As trite as it is, is this some toxic masculinity bullshit that's managed to stick with me even as I've been living as an openly trans woman for years? Is it an impenetrable emotional barrier I've built up around myself for my own survival as a trans woman who lives in the country? Fucked if I know. I prioritize the mental health of my friends before my own. That much I know. Maybe it's because of how it feels like I'm barely holding myself together. I project that onto my friends. Maybe it's selfishness; I don't go to others with my problems because when others come to me with their problems, it often drains me beyond my capacity to deal with that kind of stuff, because so much of my energy is already spent on keeping a lid on my own shit. That's not to say that if a friend comes to me and is like "hey I'm having a real shitty day" I send them away because I don't want them to harsh my vibe. I'll be a friend, I'll console them. Because again, isn't that what friends are for in the first fucking place?

I think you should be able to lean on me from time to time. I would much rather that my friends be able to work through their shit with me than I never have to deal with the emotional exhaustion that comes with it. Fuck, prior to me getting this new job, when I was still relishing in my glorious NEET lifestyle, I spent basically 3-4 whole days on voice call with my friend who was quitting nicotine and was going through the nastiest parts of withdrawal. She was such a bitch during that time, understandably so, but I put up with it. Because good friends don't run away when times get tough. But I keep my own emotions, my own problems under such close guard that it's often detrimental in any deeper interpersonal relationships such as romance or with family. Maybe it's because growing up I had like, -1 friends? Am I just so grateful (is that even the right word?) to have friends that I'll bend over backwards to avoid doing literally anything that might drive them away? I'm not as insecure as my aforementioned friend, I won't think a friend hates me if they so much as decline to hang out with me, but man, when I do something to upset someone I regard as a friend, it's the fucking worst. So then, it doesn't even matter that friends are all like, "oh you can talk to me." Not if part of me is still convinced that if I bum them out with my problems, they'll stop wanting to hang out with me.

Just... fuck, I dunno, man. I have got to figure out how to allow myself to be even just a little bit more open and vulnerable. I would benefit greatly from it, as would my hypothetical future partners.

I'd also like to add that I don't think that I'm the only one in the world who feels like this. I'm sure there are thousands. Probably millions, actually. Hell, maybe even billions. Maybe most of everyone on this spinning blue space marble feels the same. I am not unique, nor am I special, at the very least not in this regard. I guess if any of my 0 followers see this and feel similarly or have felt similarly in the past, I'd be happy to commiserate together, or perhaps more productively, hear your advice for how to stop being so guarded all the time, if you have any wisdom to share when it comes to this.

The best solution I've come up with so far is to start up this blog and just pour my thoughts out onto the keyboard stream of consciousness style. This way if anyone chooses to follow me—and the point of this blog is certainly not to get followers—they've basically consented to being exposed to my bitching and moaning.

My friend wants to hang out now, so I guess this is the end of the post. Maybe I'll vent again, maybe I'll forget this blog exists and never touch it again. Who knows?