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"Neverland is home to lost boys like me, And lost boys like me are free" "Peter Pan, Tinkerbell, Wendy Darling, even Captain Hook--You are my perfect story book. Neverland, I love you so. You are now my home sweet home. Forever a Lost Boy, at last." Lost Boy by Ruth B Jeez, can this week drag on any longer? I keep checking my messages and the mail for a response from the insurance company, but no luck. I'm seriously one of the most impatient people on the planet earth. Justin's finger's all healed (for the most part) and we got his stitches out yesterday. ((Cant remember if I told you guys! He was washing a cup in the sink and the dummy put his hand in a glass that was too small for his hands and it broke, slicing open his pinkie. Four stitches and a week of bandage and braces)) He's so happy to have his hand mostly back XD the dope! We obviously got a cup scrubbie on a stick, like, ASAP. lol On a more sad note, one of our dogs is coming down sick My favorite Babe, Ziggy. He's a rather old dog to start with, but the fleas and sensitive skin on our dogs has been relentless and ridiculous. And since Justin's mom is very VERY careful about what we put on the animals in terms of flea treatment, we havent gotten rid of the fleas yet Mostly because she hasnt been interested in trying anything strong, which I can SORT of understand but jeez....poor animals. Anyway, Ziggy chews on his fur a lot and he has really long fur, so it was getting matted in his teeth. We hadnt really noticed because it was very subtle. We started noticing he had a really bad smell on his breath, so we gave him a bath, thinking the smell was just him chewing on himself. Nope, it was the fur stuck to his teeth. But now my poor baby has sore gums, and his mouth bleeds with almost everything he puts in his mouth (food, toys, himself >.<). He hasnt been feeling very well lately and it might just be an upset stomach, but I worry about him. He's not a young pup (Probably around 12-14yrs old, we're not 100% sure since he was a rescue). Hopefully he feels better soon. I couldnt bare to lose him right now I'll let you guys know ASAP when I get a response from the insurance company. A huge part of me is dreading that they'll say no again...I was super confident that they'd say yes at first, but now all I can think of is them saying no....Ugh, I hate this. Ren
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Hello again, my Lords, Ladies and Majesties. Up front I want to apologize for my outburst and dramatic exit. Stress has been neck deep over here and I unfortunately dove head first into the fritz so bad that Ms. Frizzle would surely kick my not-so-royal behind. I took a break and tried to collect myself again, but I cant promise that I'm back up to par. I still have a LOT going on over here but I'll do my best. Please forgive me if I mess up on my swearing and stuff again, but yes, I did read the rules and whatnot. Thanks for letting me know about those, I hadnt seen it posted and totally missed out on it. I'm trying to think of new, inventive ways to get out my annoyance with words much more innocent (and maybe amusing). I have a bad habit of swearing, I'll admit it fully. I put full blame on that with how I grew up Vermonters swear WAY more than we need to Anyway, I guess everyone wants an update (sorry if I start sounding like alex, he's on the edge of consciousness to let me know when I'm swearing again and sometimes his influence tips into my writing >.< ) So my little brother has been dragged to the depths of Georgia and every day he messages me it still irks me to no end. Not because he's messaging me! No way, I love him messaging me. It lets me know that he's okay at least. No he messages about all the shinanigans my older (and much less intelligent) sister is up to, normally barraging poor Kai with insults and criticism about being transgender and having his absolute own fashion sense (he seriously does lol kids today ) It annoys me so bad that she treats him like that and there's nothing I can do about it. I legit cannot even explain how much it annoys me without going back into my swearing fest (which I'm avoiding ) Otherwise he's alright. I plan to send him a phone card for his no-contract phone, some t-shirts (since my dead beat mother doesnt buy the poor kid clothes ) and some other random stuff so he doesnt get too sad down there. My mom is beyond ridiculous. Poor Kai, when he was visiting, came into my room all pouty and said he had to wear his boots when we were going out to lunch. When I asked why, he said it was because his shoes had finally broke. His converses, over two years old, full of holes and tears had finally decided to quit on the poor kid. You'd think, being a mom, that the darned woman would have bought her kid new shoes when they first started to break! No, she'd rather buy herself new shirts and new cowgirl boots.....UGH!!! It took me 20 minutes of convincing Kai to let me buy him shoes, giving him the end choice of buying guy shoes with me or dealing with mom buying him girl shoes later. I think it was the only reason he said yes, and it made me feel better knowing that he was being sent to Georgia with new shoes at least. With all that aside (for now more drama is sure to come), this sunday is the 13th. My Surgery Consultation. I'm supposed to meet up with Dr. Robert Feins in Manchester NH, and a lot of people have said he's amazing. I've gone in for a consultation with him before and he is, I'll fully admit, awesome. He's super friendly and if you guys remember my blog about my first consultation with him, he's extremely thoughtful when it comes to pronouns and whatever. So I'm kind of glad to go back to him in particular, but I'm also really nervous. I have a new insurance this time, and one that someone else said had approved them for top surgery. I know that I cannot do a full removal (bummer, believe me, but I totally understand the reasons) because of my weight. Reason being that if they went totally flat chested when I have kind of a belly on me, it just would not look natural. My plan is to have them go as small as they will let me, and then I'll be able to work out easier and work it off. If I have to go back in a few years to finish it, so be it. But I'm nervous because what if my new insurance is like the last one and says no? What if they tell me I cant do the surgery without hormones, which will surely end my relationship with my boyfriend? I kind of want hormones, but I want to keep my boyfriend even more. I can totally understand HIS side of everything in not wanting me to go on hormones. I mean, come on, give the guy a applause will you? Justin's 10000000000% straight (was homophobic when we first met until I whipped it outta him! ) and he's dating a transguy. He let me change my name, my pronouns, my gender marker---cut my hair, change my style, etc. For a straight guy, that's a lot of leverage! We've been together 6 years this september. I cant just throw that away for a deeper voice, some muscles and facial hair (which I already fight with). So, yeah....Maybe nervous wasnt the right word. Okay, confession. I'm terrified. I dont know how I'll be able to deal with being denied surgery again. I only have 233(?)$ out of 9,000$ needed for surgery if I pay for it myself, on top of us trying to safe $ for an apartment so we can have our own place and so I can rescue Kai out of my mom's abusive household. I'm broke guys, like....legit broke. I have 20$ in my wallet right now and that's for gas money. Spring Break is here which stinks for us people who work in the education section, meaning my 30hr work week is down to 12hrs a week. My paycheck is going to be absolute bologna ((Really hope my substitutes for swears is okay so far. Let me know!!!)). I think in the bank, I have a maximum of 300$, which will be gone by the end of the week because of car payments. I swear, not only can I not keep up, but I cant seem to stay afloat lately either. Granted I got my taxes back, but I didnt even break 1k$!!!!!! It's almost not even worth filing taxes So frustrating!!! I want to get a second job but I cant because then I'd lose my insurance. (I'm the one face first on the ground.) Anyway, That's basically life right now. Chaotic, annoying, frustrating, the works. Oh yeah, then someone told me I need to drink a cabbage/carrot/turnip drink. 0.o Like, what!? WHAT IS THIS MADNESS!? Oh yeah, and I've been going to the gym whenever I think of it and working out more on the treadmill and stuffles. 5pnds down! Which.....I'd gained from junkfood.....my bad. -Ren P.S. It was a rare 65F here in New England today ((IN MARCH!? WHAT!? WHAT IS THIS SORCERY?! REVEAL YOURSELF, TINY WIZARD!)) So here's some pics of me and my Massive Moose and Fuzzy Friend, (Black Lab/Great Dane) Angel and (Collie?) Ziggy; Both rescues.
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I havent blogged in a little bit...Mostly due to being sick, really. I took on several extra shifts for my boss because she came down with a flu-like sickness (which is sadly going around.) and now it seems like I got it. Thankfully it's gotten better over the past few days with some help from bedrest and Ginger Ale. And of course, binge watching Supernatural. Almost 2 seasons in the course of 3 days But with the new year starting out and my new insurance starting in Feburary, on comes a new(er) anxiety that's been bugging me like a mad dog in the back room. Surgery. I want it done this year. I need it done this year. At this point, I cant even tie my own shoes without nearly passing out from suffocation. It's just so damn hard to do daily life things with these......unbarable bags of yuck on my chest. I feel like my chest is under there, under the disgusting lumps--I just cant touch or see it. So now I have to go through the anxiety all over again of applying to have it approved and covered....or potentially declined. Again. Plus putting up a post about being sick and someone told me to "go P on a stick lol" I know she wasnt trying to be mean, but you DONT say that to a transguy. That is legit the worst case scenario that instantly put me into an anxiety attack and made me feel sick. I dont think I'd be able to handle it if it was true...I think I'd rather die than have kids. And honestly....I'm really sick of people telling me not to get my hopes too high, because it only makes me feel worse and less optimistic. Like I'm legit applying and the only possible outcome is denial. I'm starting to feel that overwhelming sense of depression all over again just thinking about being denied once more. Shoved aside and told to "deal with it" And then to add insult to injury, my GoFundMe page. I was shown a page (to laugh at) of a girl who has a gofundme page to remove a damn 420 (marijuana reference) tattoo from her damn forehead. She's been given over 1k$ in THREE DAYS!!!!!!!! And the comments below expose the fact that she's done this three times for the same cause, used all the money and never got the tattoo removed and starting all over again afterwards! Like----WHAT?! I've had my gofundme for a year with only 150$ and it's for a legit problem, and this scamming twit has over 1k$ just HANDED to her!? Ridiculous...... I cant go another year like this...I really cant. I feel like it's legit killing me. I cant breathe. I cant function. I cant work out, I cant go for walks because I cant breathe---I cant keep living like this. I'm to that mindset that if they dont do it for me, I'll mutilate myself to the point where they wont have a choice but help. I cant keep this up...I really cant. At this point I would have normally turned to cutting already, but I've so far only had one episode and I instantly regretted it and didnt do nearly as much damage as I normally would have.... Then I have the added problem of friendship issues. Alex has become really good friends with her, and I've gotten further away. I knew she was going to ask me to roleplay. And I just....dont want to anymore. I dont want to roleplay with anyone. I just cant keep trying to put myself in a fantasy land when I have way too much stuff going on in real life. I just dont have the imagination for it anymore. But she asked anyway when we barely started to talking again. Hardly gave me time to get used to talking again before she popped the question. Kind of ruined my want to talk to anyone. All my RP friends do the same thing. As if the only interesting thing about me was my roleplay, and since I dont RP now, they dont know what to do with me. Geez...thanks...I know she didnt do it to be mean but geez....let me breathe for a few weeks before trying to pull me back into normality....But I let Alex and whoever talk to her whenever they want. I've NEVER told them no. But she asks about me which I understand, and I had the opportunity to come and say hi while I was out, so I did. I got the "Warren" instead of "Ren" again. And it's not the first time. She's been doing it a lot, calling me Warren instead of Ren. To me, coming from her, that just feels extremely non-personal. She keeps trying to call me "storbror" which was sort of our thing when I was "normal" but I'm not comfortable with it anymore and I told her I wont be doing pet names anymore. But she still does it Anyway, I said "You know you can call me Ren right?" and she just replies with "Yes, I know."....Uh...ok? So I asked if that was a desensitizing thing. That every time I say hi, it's Warren not Ren an it felt like she's trying to unfamiliarize herself with me. And she just....blows up. "Um, no. First off, I talk to Alex, Milo and Abby (So?). You've been quiet today and I've been talking to alex all day. I was just making sure it was you (so there's others named Ren? Dont think so....) And you're such a liar. Whenever I talk to you its Storbror or babe. So dont even start with me." Then it goes to the whole "you always jump own my throat when I'm wrong, even if I'm not, but somehow you're a saint" type thing. Wow. Thanks. I ask a question and I'm automatically the bad guy....TOTALLY makes me want to say Hi more often...I'm just..I'm so done trying to---I dont know, try. Every time I do, she gets pissy about something I said or did. I'm just tired of being the bad guy. Alex or whoever wants to stay friends with her, fine. Whatever. But why is it that every time I walk away and say I'm done, I somehow always go back? I dont like fighting with her all the time and I legit do. And either she admits it or not, it is NOT always brought on by me. I dont know, I guess I'm just ranting. It's nice knowing someone here is actually listening to what I'm saying, even if there arent comments. I'm just tired of talking to walls... It feels like I have no one to talk to anymore. Most (if not all) my friends know I exist but dont acknowledge it. Plus any friends I did have, Alex or Abby now has, an I've been forgotten. Theyre more interesting or more talented or something and I get pushed to the side. Always do...I've considered just letting one of them out full time an saying [the heck with it], I'm out. Abby can do whatever the hell she wants, grow out my hair and be the chick my boyfriend wants. I just cant deal with it much longer...I cant even commit suicide because I'd be taking them out with me. Why would I deprive everyone else of their friends? I honestly have no 'want' left in me.... -The less interesting brother
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So, my therapist had me do a project. Well, ex-therapist. I quit her, but I never did the project. Decided to do it tonight. She wanted me to write about how I felt with my 'conditions.' Here ya go. These Things "Imagine a desert. No beginning and no ending. Nothing in sight but sand and an occasional breeze. It’s humid and agonizingly hot, every breeze that wanders through only seems to increase the heat. Every direction in which you wander only seems to send you in the same looping circles, though you cannot tell because there are no markers and no footprints. Nothing to occupy you while you wander aimlessly and afraid. You feel no thirst in this desert. No hunger in your belly. But instead of these things, you instead suffer such an overwhelming sense of failure that nothing seems worthwhile. Every step you take is agony. Your feet burn from the sand, yet you cannot bare to stand in one spot for too long, fearing you may scream from the pain. Yet it doesn’t matter, because every scream that escapes your lips is silent. Every wail and cry is unheard in this vast and seemingly empty desert of sand and dune. No one can hear your grief. No one can comfort your fear. Ghosts only occupy your mind, though they whisk away as nothing but sand with empty and concerned eyes. There seems to comfort from this burning hell, and nothing seems to comfort and relieve you. It is as if you’re burning apart from the inside out, turning hollow and dark. You think you see shadows of guests in your own personal hell, but alas, they only turn away and disappear into the dunes. Mirages, simply put there to make you hope before making you weep. There seems to be no escape, yet you’re not even sure how you got there to begin with. All you can do is wander, and wait, and hope that someone somewhere will rescue you. These things are Depression. Imagine that you are within a room. It is a tiny room, to be honest. This tiny room has only four walls of a bland grey, the floor covered in broken and cracked tiles of unidentified color. Should you know this color? Have you forgotten this color? The ceiling is low against you. So low that it actually forces you to remain laid down upon that floor, curled up in an uncomfortable position, struggling to find relief from this frustrating situation. No position seems to help, and every part of your body hurts from the attempts to find one. Not only can you find no comfort, but from places unknown, noise vibrates through these walls. These grey, oddly crowding walls. Are they shrinking? Have they gotten shorter? Perhaps you should have noticed this. Have you gone crazy? These noises make no sense. They jumble together like spilt scrabble pieces, making no sense but reaching you nevertheless. Screams inaudible. Nails upon chalk, a pounding like hundreds of hammers against your little walls. Wailing for unknown ailments, furious yelling as though angry creatures stalk for you. Should you remain quiet? Or are they here to help you? No, you remain quiet. Perhaps it is best. The noises never dull. They never quit, and they never quiet. Unyielding and demanding, these sounds pester and frighten you in your little box. You need something—anything—to lock out those taunting walls and frightening noises. Anything to make it stop, even if just for a moment to offer you repreave. Yet…you dare not move. You dare not breathe. They might hear you. They might tear apart your walls and discover you. Every scream seems to be your name. Every angry cuss feels as though it were directed at you. Every wail seems to be of your cause, filling you with despair. And among these things, the whispers can be heard. Are they mocking you? Perhaps. Are they rumors of your existence, spoken either kindly or of ill will? You’ll never know. Are they perhaps just comments of your agony, or broken and weak attributes? Can they see you in that box? Or perhaps they are nothing at all. Perhaps you’ve simply lost your mind. Is this all a game that you’re failing? Regardless, they persist. Should you listen? It hurts to hear their sounds. But what if it is something important? Maybe you should know these things. If only it were all silent, you could perhaps breathe. The tiny confinement limits your air, cutting away your ability to think clearly with all the noise and that agonizing sense of dry drowning. You want to escape. You want to flee as far and as fast as you can. But instead, you have to wait for someone to open your box and let you out. These things are Anxiety. Your day begins as it always does. You don’t remember when exactly you fell asleep the night before. Or what woke you up today, for that matter. Regardless, here you are. You stare at the ceiling in a sense of hopeless ambition, feeling as though you’re sinking. You almost hope you do, actually. To sink down so far that you will never have to come out. Yet, you do. You somehow insist on getting up, beginning to dress yourself. What will you wear? Will you conform to society’s demands, or will you do what makes you feel normal? Let us assume for a moment that society rules today. You wear what they demand, a sense of aching in your chest as you slip into the clothes that they deem appropriate. You feel ridiculous and hideous, yet you endure it. Perhaps you wander to the bathroom and paint on a face that is not yours? Wearing a mask with bold lettering stating “I’m fine”. Perhaps you will do something with your hair. You’re not entirely sure what to do with it, because everything you attempt seems odd and unfamiliar. As if you’re modeling yourself in someone else’s image. Someone you are not, yet….someone you are. They say you are. They insist you are. With a heavy sigh and a broken heart, you wander from your room. Will you work today? Will you go to school today? It all blends together regardless. It feels as though all eyes are on you. Every detail of yourself seems flawed and obvious, and everyone is whispering about it. You are desperate to hide, even if for a moment. This isn’t you….This isn’t who you are…but its only for today. Right….? No, let us instead chose that you decide to be yourself. You set aside those things, and you avoid that mask. It has been put away for now, and you can use your authentic smile and enjoy today. You dress as you wish, and do your hair as you please. Yes, this looks right. This looks pleasing for once. Is that a smile I see? Yes, I think it is, actually. Perhaps today will be fine Perhaps today you will enjoy being out of that bed. But wait…they’re still looking at you. Are they looking even more? I cannot tell, to be honest. But…but wait. Those things you don’t like. They’re hidden, aren’t they? Those things that you wish you could remove yourself, but know it will end you for certain. They cannot be seen can they? But it feels as though everyone sees them. Everyone seems to point, even if not physically. They whisper, they talk, then they giggle. Do they know this is really you? Or do they think this is a mask? Do you blend in, or do you stick out like some freakishly abnormal thumb? Perhaps you will be the mask again tomorrow. Perhaps it is safer. But wait…the mask hurts. But doesn’t this hurt? Nothing seems right. These things are Dysphoria. Today you are happy. Today you have had no cause of alarm, and you’ve found a rather enjoyable time either playing games or spending time with friends. Your smile is priceless, your joy unavoidable. It seems contagious, as if you have gotten the laughing virus and no one is immune to your illness. You find a smile on the faces of others enjoyable, and you thrive on these things. You giggle and you jump around, having a blast and perhaps even singing without shame. You dance as if your mother will be embarrassed, and you have no shame. But wait…what is this? Where did this darkness come from? Your smile disappears. Your chest aches and you can feel your heart sinking. As if it were a literal disease, your heart sinks into your stomach like the titanic and disappears. You look around, and everyone is still smiling. Why wont they stop smiling? All you can think is “stop smiling at me!”. You want it to stop, and its making you furious. What is this feeling? Where has it come from? Nothing had upset you that you can remember. You were so happy five minutes ago. What changed? People will ask you what they did wrong. You have no answer for them, yet somehow it is annoying that they ask. They will ask you ‘are you angry at me?’ and you will struggle to figure that out. Are you angry with them? But weren’t you just happy with them? Did they do something wrong to you, or have they done something that somehow impacted your emotion? You cant even put words to it. It is as if someone has taken your happy. They have taken that little spark in your eyes and put it in a box, and they’re holding it hostage. Perhaps it will come back. You want people to give it back to you, and you want them to understand that they did nothing wrong. But you wish they’d stop asking you what is wrong. You don’t know what is wrong, and it is frustrating to try and figure it out. But wait, what is this emotion now? Are these new things? These things are Bipolar. You have your desk, and it is your own. Your own design, your own order, your own creation. Things are just as you please, and nothing can damage that. You know how things are to be done, and how things will work, and these things make life pleasant. You enjoy your things and your desk, your creations and your order. Yes, your order. The patterns in which you place things, making them as your mind has decided ‘yes, this is right’. You will not understand this order, but you will obey this order. You may try to explain it to others around you, but this is a language that they do not understand. You walk away, pleased with this order. But wait, you come back. Someone has altered your design. They have changed your order. These things are not in their places. Your mind falters like a car out of control, screaming tires and smoke. No, no, no, no! This must be corrected! They have changed things! What has been changed? You cannot decide. No, no, this must not be. These things make your head ache, your heart beat rapidly, your hands sweat and your fingers shake. No, this must not be! You scramble to fix these things. People point and laugh. This is amusing to them. They will alter them later simply to watch you panic once more, though they hardly understand the pain your head feels at this moment. These things must not be so. Your order must persist. Your design must be as it was. Your stomach is in knots, as if this alter of design will cause you harm. As if this change of pace will bring forth a sense of dread unknown to man and misunderstood by all who witness it. Wait…yes…yes, this is better. This is your order. Yes, you have fixed this disaster. You have brought peace to this chaos. You’ve done it! You’ve brought back your order, your design, you have recreated the life in which they have destroyed. Yes, you can breathe now. You can breathe. You can relax. All is well, and all shall remain well. So long as the order is kept… These things are Over Compulsive Disorder. There are more of these things. Perhaps we will speak of these things later. These things have made me tired. Warren G." Also my Mom called me Ren. Kind of a big deal, but I'm still cautious about it. It's not like her to cooperate so well....
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Dysphoria was hitting hard today. Has been for the past few days, actually. Although today while I were at the store, someone in the line behind me called me Sir which was awesome. But it was too hard to enjoy it when I were in pain. I refuse to go anywhere anymore because it hurts...I cant wear my binder anymore. My chest size has AGAIN gone up. Bumping me from a DD to a DDD size. I'll admit, its soul crushing. It made me want to curl up in a ball and cry until it eventually killed me. It hurts....the weight, the binding, my ribs...It just hurts so much. And there's nothing I can do about it. It hurts not only emotionally but physically, more than I could possibly express. My ribs ache like never before, and going to my doctor about it was only a punch in the gut. "Only thing I can suggest is stop binding. There's nothing else I can do to help other than your muscle relaxant meds I gave you..." she said. I dont hate her for it, she's doing what she can. But there's only so much she CAN do. On top of that, its fourth of July. But here I sit, home by myself, because my boyfriend went with his family to the family BBQ...which I cannot attend without a fight breaking out about me being transgender being a cry for attention. His sister-in-law even had the balls enough to message him with "im here if you ever need to talk about it". Like...really!? Thanks, I know he would appreciate talking to someone now and then, but what about me!? The person the family is shunning!?!?!? I want my surgery....I want it so bad and there's nothing I can do about it. No loans I can take out I can afford to pay off. They all want 300$ minimum for monthly payments, and I'm lucky to have 20$ in my pocket. I found a place where I can get it dont for 4500$ instead of the 9000$ but its all the way in the bottom of the country. I cant do that....Everything I want or need is so far out of my reach that it just makes me want to curl up and say **** the ****ing world, I'm done. I cant even bind anymore. And I cant afford a new binder. Even if I could..it hurts......so wtf is the point....... Only good news is if I change my VT birth certificate to Male, all of NH's documents has to honor that and change things to Male. But, again....what the **** is the point when I'm got DDD breasts that I can no longer hide? Feels like I'm slowly mentally killing myself here....And there's nothing I can do about it. Warren
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So, I need a little advice. But first I want to apologize if I annoy you guys or have fallen away from my "help others" phase and just been stuck in my "fml" stage. I dont mean to Anyway, this is about my boyfriends mother. We live with her and her family, none of which really support me or go along with my name change or anything because its my way of "attention seeking" apparently. But her constantly calling me Kristy and lately, lady, miss, girl, chick, all of which you can tell she is doing simply to upset me, is really starting to upset me. It's getting worse, and it totally messes with my dysphoria and depression and self harm. Which, apparently, is also for attention. According to her. She's even gone as far as to tell my neighbor while talking to her to NOT call me Warren because it is NOT my name and not to "feed into her need for drama". I guess my question is....this has gone on for about 6 months? Should I just put my foot down and damn the consequences and flat out tell her MY NAME IS NOT KRISTY and tell her I'll ignore what she says unless she calls me ren or warren? Or should I just ignore it...? If she wants to throw me out, I wont be homeless. My neighbor already told me her house is there if it ever came down to it, and I'll always have a place to stay. But I'm just so......SO F***ING sick of being dragged back into my feminine name and past by her. Tonight I went out and heard a bunch of dishes slamming around, so i went and asked whats up and she said "apparently no one can f***ing do anything except me". I'm like ....what? she snapped "no one's let the f***ing dogs out since i left for work" and i told her i let them out when i got up, and she ignored me. Then she went on to say nothing else got done and i told her 'well...i did the dishwasher..." and she gave me an attitude like "that's it?" More than her precious Princess daughter does. I'm just severely frustrated and dont know what to do about this....I dont want to make the wrong move... On another hand, tomorrow I have an interview for a Security Personnel position I REALLY REALLY want so wish me luck. Warren
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