Why I've come to HATE the Holidays

Yes, I've said it. I despise the holidays...
And not because I don't believe in them, or the idea of family, down time, or mass consumerism. But because its come to mean something different to me.

There used to be a time when I loved the holidays. Even though we lived in the shelter, in some one else's home, or in our car we were together and a family. And that was enough for me.

But since I've had my daughter or rather since she's came into my life... its a bit more complicated.

Lets go over how this came to be...

About 3 years back, our first Christmas out of the shelter was uneventful. It was depressing and stressful for whatever reason. I can't really recall that Christmas clearly. I felt tides changing, but I couldn't pinpoint what was changing.

Next Christmas I was pregnant. Although I was not yet aware. I was in the first few months that is characterized as "you're-losing-your-fucking-mind" trimester. I spent that day, at someone I did not knows house, followed by partying all night in a club. I was fucking loony. And that my first taste of "I hate Christmas".

Then comes Olivia, and that Christmas managed to get fucked up because I spent it in a mental hospital. Just days prior as I wallowed in postpartum depression and undiagnosed bipolar disorder the world flipped upside down, and I chased my infidelity with a slit wrist. Once again, loony... are you sensing a pattern here? Because I am.

Then, finally this Christmas. Familial pressures everywhere, shelter lifestyle, no money, stress and depression. I smelt a breakdown coming along. Until Christmas eve comes and too many shots of tequila makes him into a monster. I don't recall doing anything, and neither does he. I do recall the sting that followed a swift slap to the face. The air rushing out of my lungs as my windpipes were constricting. Nothing I did could make it stop, and I myself couldn't avoid/stop it. This time I wasn't the loony one.

I had never been a victim. Never considered myself one, and Im still unsure if I am. I just know it hurt. The angry words followed by the vindictive hands. I've never felt so weak. I cried, until I couldn't. I yelled until I was too scared to do anything but just stand there. And at some point in time even that angered him.

He has NEVER been like this before. What happened??!!?? We'll never know.

He didn't stop until we gained the interest of the dutiful security guards. I was paralyzed so I nodded everything was fine, and I let him guide me into the shower once they left. The rest of my night was plagued by nightmares and his apologies. He swore to never do it again. But he's never done it before. He doesn't even know how he got to that point in the first place.

So how can one control the unknown?? I'll never know...

So this is why I despise the holidays. Its been bringing out the worst on me. Its rained the shittiest parade and Im left to pick up the fragmented streamers of my life. Every single fucking time.

And I hate it. I hate it. I hate it. I don't know what to do. Im stuck. Frozen. In that frame of mind.

My hope is that my soul will heal as my wounds will. And I can pack my pessimism away until next time.

Until next time.

Weird

People are weird.

No let me rephrase that.

I'm weird.
I'm not like other people.
I don't have friends. I don't go out. I don't retell stories that start with, "I remember that time when I...when we...when this..."
I don't hang out or chill or "hey, let's do (insert awesome activity) at/on/this (insert time/day of week/month/year/season)
I don't have raging Facebook posts/pics of all the places I've gone/things I've done.
Don't have rings/necklaces/bracelets or tattoos/piercings from when I went (insert awesome place).
I'm fucking boring.
I don't have a black book, notches in my belt, or reasons to get dirty looks.
I don't live on the edge or between the lines.
I don't have a tag that says, "I'm cool because I've been/done/had/went/saw/was apart of.. etc."
I don't have a tag that says, "I'm uncool because.... you get the point.
I'm just here.

Not really doing one thing or another. Not really being one thing or another. Not really fitting in, but not really sticking out.
Like shit. What am I really? I guess, im just weird. Because I'm not weird, and I'm normal, I'm like oatmeal. Kinda bland, but I've got a dash of cinnamon and sugar so I'm not all that bad, but still there's no bang!...
This needs to change.

Am I a terrible, crazy person?

Am I terrible for not wanting any friends at the moment?
I'm at the worse pinnacle of my life and at this point, just a Debby downer I really want to just focus on me and my daughter. So it's hard to get invested in other people's lives. To be honest, it just doesn't concern me. Am I terrible for that?

Am I crazy for wanting to get away, from EVERYBODY?
In many ways, I feel like I've over stayed my welcome. And I need to break away in order to really solidify my independence, within myself. Its hard to explain but it's very tiring relying on other people. At any point in time. Because they begin to hold it against you. Whether or not they do this conciously, at some point in time it manifest in their actions, they way They talk to you, treat you, feel about you. And that just hurts, but it's human. The only way to stop it is yo remove yourself from the situation. And that's what I want to do. I want to do it on my own. Because I know I can. If I had the balls enough to just not care, I could've done it a long time ago. Before things got So out of control. Well It's never too late I always say.

So here's what I want to do. I can't really call it a plan because NOTHING is concrete and there is a possibility that things might change to the point where it doesn't happen. But because it involves me and Olivia only, there's not much that s stopping me. So the "want to do":

Study abroad!
Preferably in Ireland. Study film, the Celtic culture, and learn Gaelic. Im not exactly sure why, I'm drawn to Ireland. But I am, and that's what I want to do.

Make my second documentary!
Kind of a part 2 of the first one. Documenting life after having Olivia. The struggles of trying to gain my independence and learn how to be s good woman and mother. Especially being black and young and virtually single.

Start my production company!
Not entirely sure how this is gonna happen, But I'd like for it to.

Publish a book!
Don't know if it'll be the sci-fi novel I'm working on with my best friend (because I don't think that's gonna pan out anymore and I'll post more on that later) Or if it'll be a biography about my shitty life and the wonders that come with it.

Gain stability!
I don't really plan on staying in Ireland for more than a year, but we'll see how things go. I'm hoping that through my experiences I can create a foundation somewhere or set up shop with a new beginning. If in able to create my own company, plus generate my own income I might be able to go anywhere and do anything. Who knows. Possibilities are endless.

With that being said. In hoping for the best, but my hearts prepared for the worst. I just wonder if these aspirations are crazy or terrible. ....

Untitled

So I stopped to think to myself.... I hate everything right now. 

Probably the only person I don't hate at the moment is Olivia. Because I could never hate her. It's not possible. No matter how upset I am, I look at her and peace and love floods me. She is my happiness. Manifested in a human form. 

Which means that I no longer have it. She is all the best parts of me. Therefore I am only all the worse. 

Never thought of that until this precise moment. As I write this on the subway to work. Aware of every wrong that's taking place. Things have only gotten worse since I last posted and I thought it'd be impossible but of course there's always room for another hole, even if it means making one that already exist bigger. 

I don't know. All I can do is write. This weekend is all I've got. 

Here's how I'm going to do it. 

I'm going to look for an apartment, aggressively. For just myself. And my daughter. Studio or 1 bedroom. I will get an apartment by next week. And I will use every penny I have to do so. But ill be in a place. L is no longer working so he's not tied down to the Bronx by convenience. He can choose to stay here and find a room or bunk with me and Olivia until he finds a place of his own. 

I'm going to put all my energy into this. This is my last affront. If it doesn't work I'm going to a shelter, or rather... A homelessness prevention unit. In hopes that they give me the boost I need. In fact  I might go there anyway. During my intense search. By Wednesday of next week I will be out of this current apartment. And I'll do it my way on my terms. I'm going to stop caring about other people. Because its only brought about my suffering. I am way too important for that. As well, once that's settled, my goal is to get full time work after this summer. One of the companies that I either already am, or have been affiliated with should be able to give me that. At least 24k per year. Ill save up and I'm moving out of the state. Maybe Rhode Island. I'm going to lease a mini copper but before that learn stick shift. On my own. And then I will buy a house. This will of course be with the help of others, but for now I'm doing things on my own. 

I know that's what I've been trying to do for the longest, but you can't do things on your own while trying to help other people. I can't do it anymore. I've got to cut my loses.

Sorry mom I love you, but it's YOUR job as a parent to help me up, it shouldn't be a co effort. Because at the end of the day, we just both end up down. So in lieu of that, I'm gonna pull myself up, and then focus on doing my duty. 

I've gotten to a very dire point, where I have realized, I didn't get myself here... I thought in had, but in all actuality, I didn't. I've been thinking and thinking to myself, I wish I was cold hearted enough to not have to care/worry about others long enough to care/worry about myself. It's sad, but honest. 

I don't have time for idle conversations, friendships, or relationships. I've got the basics of ME to focus on. I can't cater to everyone right now. No longer. 

So duly note, I may not post until after I'm sitting in my own place. More than likely on the floor... Till then, wish me good luck, or hard work, or whatever....

Awake

I awoke this morning with a pain I've only had once before. And it wasn't a pretty situation when that pain plagued me. But I pushed through and kept going. I had work and such to get to.

Alas, the day hasn't been well to me so far. 

I'm tired. Of all of this. 

How much persistence can one have? 

Particularly in the face of disappointment and stress?

At what point does one say, here's my out? 

And how does one make the decision?

That compromising your desires for a "way out", is the way to go. 

Is it that life is just saying, " lets see what you're capable of when you have no options..." Or is it saying, " you have options just not the one you want, stop being stubborn." 

Where's the line between stubborn and persistent?

And how does one apply that to life? 

Perhaps there really is no such thing as good luck, just hard work. If then, how do you work hard towards creating a destiny when it seems you have no say so in its creation....

I'd really like to sleep. Just sleep. And not care anymore. Whatever happens happens. Because at the point I feel like all my efforts are pointless. It seems my eyes are open but I'm not awake. Life has become a blurred form of reality, a dream that I have no real participation in. I am just the spectator to its warped splendor. I can't really be aware of what is what, or what anything means, or what I'm supposed to do. Each road seems to lead to another door of unhappiness. Is this my fate? The emotions that overcome my mind, body, and soul feel like a hurricane eating away at my energy. I am constantly being sucked into its will. I'm drowning in unknown waters, unmapped and unmarked. Because I've never been here before. 

Not exactly sure what to do, but at this moment I feel like sleeping. Unfortunately I'm still awake. 

Stress kills

I'm pretty sure the stress is killing me. It's destroying my memory and my intelligence alike. My mind can't focus on multiple things like it used to be able to, and forget things I just heard. I forget words and phrases that used to be second hand to me. I'm not the same. I'm not myself. My creativity and inspiration are both at an all time low. Even at my worse, in the pits of the hell that is depression I wasn't this bad. I don't know how I'm making it through each day. My body is sending me all sorts of emotional, mental, and especially physical signals. I believe that slowly but surely I'm shutting down. 

But really who is to blame? I could spend the rest of this post naming and blaming but really it's just the life that I've landed myself in. The circumstances that I was too stubborn to foresee. And although I don't know who I am anymore I know that it was me and only me that walked to this place I now find myself in. 

Call me naive, childish, irresponsible, but honestly all it is is misguided. Or rather lack there of. I've spent a lot of time being told what to do, not shown. Forced into an opinion that wasn't my own. And I rebelled. Had my spirit been nourished and guided, id probably be at a better point in my life. 

Oh well, it is what it is. 

So now, all I have is this stress. That's eating away at me. Tearing me at the seams. And while others look upon the broken pieces on the floor, some walk upon them, others sadly sigh, I stand aside and watch, waiting for a guide. 

Reserved

There's a part of my heart that's reserved  for me and for those who I want to give it to. 

I like to think that one day ill be free to do just that. 

But at this point my heart is not my own. 

It is ruled by convenience and humility. Hope that I can cause change. 

But I have a piece of my heart for those who really deserve it. For that person who understands me fully and makes it skip a beat with just a thought of them. 

That piece is covered in cobwebs in a cold dark corner in the recesses of my body, but it's there. Waiting. Patiently. While the rest of my heart gets beaten and bruised. That part is begging for freedom like a guilt tripped abusee.   

He's said before that he sometimes believes that I prefer that he treats me that way. I don't get that... 

Is that what happens when you get emotionally/verbally abused so much that you can't even fight it anymore? Until it gets to the point where others think you enjoy it? 

I wish I knew. 

I don't understand. What to do.... Where to go...how to get rid of this emptiness I feel. How to stop berating and blaming myself for the way others treat me. How to grow up. How to be a woman. How to be a person. How to help this deeply hurt child in my soul. How to make sense of all of this. How to get what I want. How to get love, be loved, feel love. And how to properly return it. 

Who to love and who not to...

I wish I knew.