I tried so hard this weekend. I really did. I went to the fitness event and nearly died. I tried to be nice even though I was exhausted. I didn’t want to do that this weekend, and I don’t want to do her thing next weekend either. I’m just happy I didn’t die. By some freakish fortune I didn’t have an asthma attack. I came close. But I was good. I tried to be helpful with family things. And I still catch the shit to the point where I shut it down because I was tired of being shit on. It could improve, but it hasn’t for a few weeks. Maybe it’s the cyclothymia, or maybe it’s just because I’m tired of being shit on.
I’m tired of everything. I want to be appreciated.
On the other side, trying to be understanding, they wish I had more energy and wanted to do stuff. They wish I had the faith to just quit my current job and just waltz into the next, bigger, badder, higher paying job like that just happens just so just fucking easily for everyone. Bad enough they shit on me at my current job. Want proof? Look at that paycheck, woo hoo! It’s so big I can see it, with a microscope. When last I interviewed for another job I was uncomfortable but it was a job closer to the field I wanted to get into, and I just nailed that fucking interview, obviously, since I’m still working this shit job. When last I asked for a promotion the lady who had worked there less than me and now has moved on because well, company politics, and she had a better resume than mine, told me I wasn’t qualified for the position one level above mine supervising a team of people doing my job, after asking me to fucking train her about what I do. Fuck you, you ignorant bitch, I’m glad you’re gone so I don’t have to face your demanding, taking-me-for-granted condescending shittery including telling me out of the non-raise-giving side of the mouth how valued my contributions are and out of the paying side how I’m not good enough for a cost of living reasonable raise every day.
It was too easy to ask for time off in this job so they added another stupid “platform” we have to fight through to request it, and I’m supposed to figure it out for our weekend coming up.
So I got tired of listening to demanding, taking-me-for-granted, condescending shittery from Mrs. M today, including telling me I’m stupid and I’m wrong. Angelic though she is, when she wants to be, she can push my buttons faster than anyone else because she knows where they are, and she likes to push them. So next weekend instead of being home and celebrated for fathers day, I get to go to her parents house to catch more shit from them, while she celebrates her dad (which I guess is fine), and I really don’t want to fucking go. Needless to say, what I want takes second place. Out of one side of the mouth saying you love me and out of the other telling me I’m not working hard enough and somehow have to earn it, doesn’t feel like love. Among the other things you tell me that doesn’t feel like love.
The parents hope for the best for me, I understand, but their condescension hurts just as much and discourages me almost as much as being ignored or goaded by Mrs. M. And being ignored by everyone else in my real life. My 200, a few of whom might actually read my blog, get it while not getting it. Sorry everyone.
Cue “It’s The Bitch of Living.”
When do I get celebrated? When do I get recognized and valued? When do I get treated how I want to be treated? Not in this family, not in this job, not at church, not in social circles because who wants to go anywhere experiencing a measure of success and financial freedom and appreciation, but I could volunteer anywhere and be in poverty swimming in praise for contributing my “valuable service.” Until I ask for a paycheck for performing the same “valuable service.” And I can work my ass off cleaning and maintaining the household chores and hear how appreciated it is (maybe) until I want to experience a little tangible appreciation. Then I get told “you’re gross (not those exact words, just those implications)” “I want_____ instead,” “not until ____,” “I’m tired,” or whatever other bullshit.
If God answers I will probably die of shock (before I get to enjoy the experience(s).