IDK YOU DECIDE

    God damnit. I hate when people make decisions for you without your consent. I hate when they think they know what’s best for you. I hate it when they don’t take your needs or wants into consideration. I just wish everyone that says they loved me would show me a little more respect. If you’re not going to give me the respect to grab my own shit, at least communicate that with me. 

    I was supposed to go and clean out my old room with family. I had asked to be a part of that. I know there were going to be difficult things to see but there were things that I wanted to get that I did not want to have to buy again. Regardless. Fuck it. If I am not going to be a part of the choices of my recovery, than what am I doing in recovery?! Seriously. My only incentive can not be homelessness. I have to be an active participant in this. God. It would have been difficult to go through everything, sure. But I had asked that people be there with me. I mean, GOD DAMN IT. IT’S FUCKING EMBARRASSING. IT’S HUMILIATING. IT’S DISGUSTING. 

    But no body cares. They say they care. Just empty words. More empty words from people. They’re interested in what they’re interested in. My considerations are not a part of the equation. Maybe I was wrong. Maybe I was wrong being upfront with my family about my usage. I never hid it from anyone. I tried to be respectful, by not using in front of certain people. I tried. I don’t know. I don’t know why I’m even writing this out anymore. I don’t know why I’m going to therapy. None of it matters. I mean, my family (whomever) did this shit before I even started using. They were always in my shit. Digging through shit. It’s in our fucking DNA to be nosey, to be in charge and to be complete assholes. I see it in all of my relatives and I see it in the mirror. So, fuck it. 

    This shit happens. Where people think they know what’s best for me. I don’t know who did it or why. BECAUSE NO ONE FUCKING COMMUNICATES WITH ME. But, I mean. I don’t know. If I were to get myself out of this, ever… I don’t think I want anything to do with any of them anymore. Why should I? I have no privacy. You know, my fucking ex took that from me. My father took that from me. Every time they go through my shit it’s just more validation that I am an object to be abused and disrespected. It’s okay. I said this to myself a long time ago. If I don’t have something to provide for them, then I’m not worth their time. If I don’t have children, they won’t prioritize me. 

    I left therapy today feeling really good. I don’t know what else to say. I don’t know if I’m blogging right now because it’s cathartic or because it’s my fucking last time. FUCK. When people are building me up, I feel so great and like I can accomplish anything I put my mind to. Then people go behind my back or say something and it just eats away at me. Fucking-a. I am not on an anti-depressant yet. My mood stabilizers haven’t kicked in.

    IT DOESN’T MATTER THOUGH. JUST GO FUCKING SNEAK AROUND MY BACK. LIE TO ME. MAKE DECISIONS FOR ME. GOD. 

    I know I don’t have a good track record but jesus fucking christ. Include me in the decision-making process at least. OR DONT.

    Then why am I doing this? It’s not like anyone helps me figure out how to make the right decisions. So, I guess I’ll just bash my head into the wall next to me and then they can just put a straight jacket on me or strap me to a bed in a looney bin. Who the fuck cares? Bubba. A cat. That’s what I have left. And I’m grateful for that. But just like I said in therapy today, he should have made a better choice as well. Bubba should have chose someone else. Then maybe I wouldn’t have this stupid sense of responsibility and I would have properly followed through this spring. FUCK

Don’t fucking take care. No body cares.