You're a mean one, Mr. Grinch, You really are a heel...

I’m weird in that I tend to grumble and growl about the coming holidays – Christmas was never a favorite, Thanksgiving just makes me fatter, and Easter, Easter reminds me of death, more than just the death of Jesus, but the death of both of my grandparents. They each died on either side of it, 9 years apart. I harbor this inconceivable amount of rage against the day.

I don’t know why I even do, its not like the holiday did anything to me. Well, it reminds me of family, and out here in Over-priced-Hell, I seem to lack just that, so the idea that I lost the biggest part of my family still makes me look at Easter with such resentment.

And lets face it; I’ve lost my faith in religion and faith. In fact, I’ve grown to have a certain degree of disgust for it. Interestingly enough – Oh I don’t know, my life seems all messed up anyway, losing my faith seems only like part of the process of falling apart.

In any event, I opted out of driving 2 miles to be with Daniel’s family. Instead, I’ll sit at home, flip back and forth between twitter, facebook and attempt to avoid the kitchen and Easter basket I prepared for the house which, even through protests and hatred, I still manage to think that an Easter basket needs to be present, a Christmas tree needs to be put up, christmas presents bought, and green jello has to be on the table at Thanksgiving...even if holidays get me in a grinchy sort of way.

Anyway, How I feel about Easter can be summed up by this photo.



(Thanks Jeremy)

"You don't understand me, and I want to be understood. "

I haven’t been writing at all because everything is depressing. I don’t have any positive way to say it and I try to avoid writing when I’m feeling shitty because I fear that it comes off too Boo-hoo, feel bad for me. That’s hardly the point.

There are several things in my life that seem to be a little off tilt. My mood is due to several factors and while I know that we all supposedly have the ability to either smile and face the world, or cry in a corner, my attitude lately has been more towards the crying in the corner type. I can’t seem to shake these so called winter blues. I can’t seem to shake the losses I’ve had. My grieving process seems to be at a stand still, and that’s where I’m having problems.

I’ve done a good job of separating myself from people I care about whether by words or miles so that at the end of the day, I feel like there is no one I can turn to. Part of it is because I’m incredibly guarded in my feelings that I have trouble even falling into anyone with my pain and/or emotions. The few people I did select to open up to, well some of them pushed my feelings back into me, like how dare I feel, and tell them about it – Or at least, that’s how it felt. So you’ll understand where my guarded feelings come from. Plus, to those I do open up to, its hard to hear the response “I wish there was something I could do to make you feel better” – It’s hard for several of these people because of the distance. And its hard to swallow that line without choking on it, because some people cannot help me feel any different, and some people help me by just being near. But, I have trust issues.

And I wish I didn’t. Because it makes me do things I don’t like seeing myself do. It makes me check up on those close to me because of my own insecurities. But then again, sometimes those insecurities are confirmed, but I wish they hadn’t been. I feel like I’m in a loveless marriage with myself if that’s even possible. I question the love others give me, wondering if it’s even genuine or if it’s because of the materialistic things I provide.

I have a hard time grasping that concept and accepting it and trying to learn from it. I have an uncanny ability to harbor anger and resentment and to stick around people that don’t help this situation.

I want to talk so badly, but find it hard to find the words without crying, even now as I type this my eyes are glassy and the salty pains in my heart run down my cheek.
In life I find myself not satisfied, like Bono,” I still haven’t found what I’m looking for” and for that matter, I don’t even know WHAT I am looking for, I just know that I want more than I’ve found. Maybe that’s a problem? That I can’t be happy with what I have; it’s hard to be happy when you hold so much anger, frustration, guilt inside. It’s hard to even talk, when just the thought of crying in front of someone makes you upset. Tears truly aren’t something one should be afraid of, but when they effect you as much as they do me, it’s hard.

I cry for a lot of things, I cry when I’m sad, I cry when something makes me overwhelmed with happiness, I cry when I feel confrontational or even when I write.
I’ve been having a rough time at work and a desire to move forward in a job that I feel under cuts my abilities. It upsets me on a daily basis and I feel trapped in it because I have this need to support not only myself but those around me. I drag myself down by doing this, and none of them ever really ask me to do it, I just feel guilt. I hate to see people struggle, I hate to see people stress, but in the end, I just put too much on my shoulders that at times like right now, I collapse under the pressure. But I continue to stay in the position I’m in, for fear of drowning, and in the incessant need to keep afloat. My legs are tiring, I want so badly to find something/someone to lean on so that I can’t stop treading water if only for a moment.

And perhaps its bad when you think, I need to check myself into some kind of psych ward, not because I’m afraid I’ll do harm to myself, but to just take a break. But even the thought of that, hurts because I know the effects it will have on my life later. I don’t want to be seen as crazy, and I surely don’t want to feel the way I have. I just want to know that it’s okay to feel this way, because I feel shame when I feel hopeless, I feel disgust in myself and the way others view me. I feel like it’s just another thing where “Jennie falls apart.”

Why am I so abnormal when it seems that the family around me managed to make it out of the life we lived intact, why couldn’t I?