To write. Well…brain-dump to be more….whatever.
I thought I would write this series tomorrow, but I just wanted to write. I was chatting with Anne and while I was talking about my problems, I suddenly felt the need to cry. But I hid my tears because Mom was around.
Ever since I have admitted to myself that what Mom did was wrong, I started to feel better. I remember certain incidences in my childhood when Mom beat me. But do you know what? Ever since I was 12, it didn’t feel as occasional. The abuse I mean. I have always had this hatred for Mom. And when someone tells me what Mom does is for the best, I want them to choke up on two kilograms of the OCD I deal with.
Yeah, OCD feels like something is choking you and you have to do sh*t to get rid of it. But it doesn’t really do. The more you give into the compulsions, the more OCD grows. Cool, right? :I Super cool that when you get anxious and you try hard to get rid of this feeling but compulsions make it worse. And yet you can’t stop yourself for the temporary relief from the compulsions which makes it an even more permanent problem.
I haven’t been writing about happy silly things. And I don’t want to. I just think this blog will spread negative to everyone who reads it. So, if you’re a really positive person who hates negativity, you have to take a break from reading my blog because I don’t feel not-crappy. That’s why I started this series.
I didn’t want to share such delicate parts of my mind on a blog. I wanted to make this blog the one place in my life where only happy and silly things happen. And every times I post an article on this series, it makes me think, “Really Mon? Do you like filling this place with the same old same old?” Which makes me think about another thing; I have updated a gratitude journal. Yeay. I think I will make a Happy Sh*t Category for all the happy sh*t in my life. Happy crap! Whoot! Whoot! We all want that don’t we? HAPPY CRAP!
Many people take the “You can’t say ‘Happiness’ without saying ‘Penis'” sh*t way too seriously here :I. Or they are right. Survival of the fittest. I think the only reason women fell back is because of the lack of physical fitness and strength. Just look what a simple thing can do. But it’s always been that way in nature. Survival of the penis….I mean fittest. Gosh, that was hilarious! Anyhow, back to the matter..Of course, now it’s survival of the dude-with-academic-degree fittest..est?
Happiness. It sounds funny. Penises. That sounds funny too. Vagina sounds very serious, it’s like the name of a serious and nagging elderly woman, I don’t know, I am just posting my thoughts as they come here, 90% of the time.
I guess my writing gets silly one way or another. I love silly sh*t. I love that asshole, that silliness asshole. That makes no sense, but I won’t edit that asshole sentence. Assholes are such assholes, indeed. Shit-hole. Mouth-hole? Ear-hole? Oh, that reminds me of a conversation I had. The font in blue is by another person.
How does a fourway occur?
“I won’t tell, sorry. I don’t want to corrupt that little head of yours.”
“Do they get it inside other people’s noses? And their ears as well?”
Funny that I got from assholes to…never mind. This doesn’t sound fun anymore.
OK, I won’t look back. Oh right. Abuse.
So as I accepted more about the abuse I went through, which I don’t remember much about but my subconscious makes me angry at Mom anyway since I was 12. There’s one part that says “Mom didn’t abuse you” and another part says, “She Abused. A LOT. And I hate her”. Well, whatever. Mom says she didn’t. She said she NEVER hurt me and yet she hurt me just recently.
Do you know (probably not) ever since I was nine I had always fantasized about being apologized to? Yes, you read that right. I still think about someone who realized their wrong and apologized to me. But I was WORTHY of being apologized to in my sick fantasy too. In this fantasy I had a good job; I was well-liked; unique; Extremely physically strong (Do I want to be masculine to keep up with society?); Prettier—> everything I want and in my fantasy, someone realized my worth and apologies to me.I find that idea very comforting because my whole life I felt pretty pathetic and like the things that happened to me, the hurt that happened to me, was nothing. But my subconscious doesn’t remember this “nothing” I force on myself; It remembers every f*cking little thing. And it makes me day-dream about being valued enough to get an apology for the things that happened.
In this series, I open my heart more; I will share some of my deepest thoughts. I will put these in the rants categories 😮 These will be a bit messy as I share my thoughts as they come. This will be my totally imperfect, vulnerable side other than the happy bubbly person you guys see, that’s also a part of me, but this is the secret (not so secret anymore) part of me. Please don’t judge, these are simply my thoughts expressed openly. If you don’t like them, what are you doing here?