It's Beginning to Look a Lot Like...

The Holidays are over and all the usual shit can come flying in full force.That isn't to say shit hasn't been flying around, it's just more pronounced now that there's no soft Christmas cheer to put a damper on it. Tensions run high in the RyeBread household as he and his family deal with the aftermath of that East Coast Blizzard that dumped a few feet of powder everywhere over a twelve hour period.

Some friends of mine came over to play some video games and just talk about life outside of college before the snow got really bad so they were welcomed to stay until morning so they wouldn't have to drive in the terrible road conditions. My father was working, older sister was back at college for the weekend, and my mother and brother went to a party. Come seven, my friends and I head out and clear off the driveway should my parents come home despite the weather. The wind begins to cover it back up. I get a call from my mom around eight asking me to clear it again as she'll be home soon. She questions whether I am up to no good. So again my friends and I go out, shovel off the foot or so that's fallen or blown over, during which our one shove breaks. We get back in, thaw out, start getting comfortable again. An hour and a half goes by, mom calls again claiming she will be home in about fifteen minutes. We bundle up and get to shoveling. We get back in, pull off our winter gear, and again try to defrost. Another half hour goes by, mom again. She asks if I'm doing anything I shouldn't be, then says she'll be home shortly and to go clean the drive way.

Yeah, fool me once shame on you, fool me twice shame on me, fool me three times and bitch I'm not doing it. Well, turns out she was coming home and was none too pleased to find herself in four inches of snow after "specifically telling me to clean it." She went so far as to doubt I shoveled more than once despite the four foot barriers on either side of our walkway. Rye was none too pleased at this accusation, but tried to let it slide. Then, uh oh, more drama. Our darling dog decided that at some point while the men were out shoveling, it would be the perfect time to sneak a crap on the living room floor. Well, after that wonderful session, my friends and I decide it's time to turn in for the night and try to get some sleep. I wake up at one to my dog snuffing at my ear. Apparently her bowels are being assaulted by some holiday treats she got into because she wakes me up every twenty minutes for the rest of the night to run out in the snow to take care of herself. She finally stops around six in the morning and I get some real shut-eye.

My brother comes in four hours later to play some CoD, volume almost maxed out. Needless to say, I was not all that happy. He quiets it and I get another hour or two of sleep. When I wake up, my friends cleared out their car, and the entire top of the driveway, and went home. I clean up the room we crashed in then try to get ready for the day when my mom cuts in around two hours later, screaming that I should be out cleaning her car off, and taking care of the driveway without being asked. Apparently, I should not have to be asked to do anything, I should just do it. Should I fail this telepathic exam, it is perfectly okay for me to be screamed at. Then my mother turns on my friends for spending the night, but only cleaning off their car before leaving. Not only had they been offered an invitation by her, they took care of the top of the driveway. I would say they earned their keep.

I go out with my brother and carve out her car, the walkway, and a significant chunk of the bottom of the driveway before coming in to rest a bit and change clothes. She drops like a banshee from hell, descending in her righteous rage that I dare take a rest when I have barely been awake for five hours. At this point my nerves are frayed to breaking so I take her up in her "who can be loudest" challenge and call her out on some things before finally backing off in my usual passive-aggressive manner and just finishing the damn job with a broken shovel.

So yes, in less than 48 hours, all semblance of a non-aggression pact has gone out the window. There is little doubt in my mind that once I get back to my dorm I'll be getting the daily, "I haven't heard from you, please call home," calls on my cell. I hoped I had escaped the bipolar purgatory that is this house back in September, but it just keeps coming back.

The Truth Won't Save You Now

I'm so fed up with this body of mine. I don't know if I'm actually sick or if I'm being hit with the mother of all acid-reflux whatevers. All I know is that I need sleep to not fail a final I have tomorrow and I am not going to get that sleep because my stomach has decided this week would be as good a week as any to begin dissolving my heart and lungs.

Things to do before a big test:
Eat right
Get a good night's sleep
Keep calm
Study

Things that are insanely hard/impossible to do while ill:
Eat
Sleep
Relax
Focus in any way shape or form

Let me compile all this stress on top of my usual freaking out and I have yet another recipe for disaster on my hands. I recently made an attempt at saying no to some people, which was a big thing for me. I needed to study and I wasn't feeling to good, but my new-ish friends wanted to go out. I beat around the bush for a while, but with some urgings from my other friends, I finally managed to grow the balls to flat out say I did not want to go out. It was both incredibly liberating and extremely stressful. I literally had to make sure the people I had said no to were not offended in any way, then ask my other friend if me saying no to the first group of friends at least made him happy because I am so desperately needy like that.

If I'm not making someone else happy, I really don't think it is possible for me to be happy, making it extremely difficult for people to know what will make me happy. My mother, I know for a fact, has gotten to the point that she needs to confront me alone to find out whether or not I am elated over a gift or event because I can't just express it in a way she understands. It really just isn't fair. I want her to be happy, but to do that, I need to be happy. Yet I can't be happy unless I am making her happy which would be accomplished by me being happy.

I can only hope this horrible stress buildup will be taken care of after Finals and I get a nice month long break from it all.

It's Been A Long Time

I wish I could blame my inactivity on this blog solely on National Novel Writing Month (which I completed, by the way), but I really can't. The thing is, I just haven't been too keen on filling people in on my personal issues, but now I kind of feel like I should. I need an outlet of some kind and projecting to the faceless masses seems to be the most viable option.

I have come to the unshakeable conclusion that I am completely and totally, maybe even irrationally, terrified of being alone. This is not a new thing, I had this fear as a child as well. You know those machines at the mall? The space ship or the little motorcycle you put a quarter in then sit in it while it shakes like a crappy washing machine? I could never use those as a kid. It would fill me with this vague terror when I sat in them, this fear that when I clambered out my parents would be gone or they would not be there to help me out. I got lost at the mall once, when I was maybe seven. I just froze up and tried not to cry, standing near the entrance of a game store. Finally it was my sister's friend who found me. She told me my mom had sent her to find me while my sister was trying on a dress somewhere else.

That hurt. Sure my mom knew where I was, at least she had a pretty good idea, but she didn't come get me herself. She was too preoccupied with getting my sister some new clothes to take three minutes to get me. I should have kept up, made sure I didn't lose sight of her, but I was a kid. It hurt that I wasn't worth her time to go fetch.

So yes, if it didn't start there, it was at least fueled by that incident. If I didn't make sure I wasn't alone, I would be left behind. I get possesive because of that fear, I refuse to let things go. I have all sorts of hoarded collections, broken things and toys I have long since grown out of. I even go back and read books far, far below my reading level because nothing deserves to be lost and forgotten. It's when my possesiveness extends to people that the problems start.

I keep my friends close and my enemies as far away as physically and emotionally possible. When my friends start mixing in with my enemies, problems start. I like to think I don't do it on purpose, but I am noticing now how I behaved in the past. I would reel them in, pulling them away from a perceived threat. The thing is though, I am not sure who I felt was being threatened, me or them. Am I protective because I don't want to be abandoned or because I don't want to abandon them?

Now, most recently, I have been accused of acting selfishly. Said accusor stated that my defensive tendencies have flared up over a friend mixing up with another friend, that I attempted to pull the friends apart to keep them both safely in my own comfort zone. Problem being they are two sentient people who should be allowed to make their own decisions. So. So so so. Am I subconsciously yanking them apart, subtly setting them up for failure, in some involuntary reflex to protect and isolate what is "mine?" Or is this the delusion of someone looking for someone to blame for a failing relationship? I honestly can't tell, and since it's my subconscious under fire, my heartfelt words mean nothing.

Maybe it is my abandonment issues and terror at the possibility of being left alone, but I refuse to be held solely responsible. If some uncharacteristic machinations so easily tore down a wall of trust between two people, perhaps it wasn't all that strong to begin with. Maybe my subconscious is right, that the two are better off not being one item. All I know for sure is that it isn't fair to tell me to "stop being selfish," or "get over your issues," because if I can't see it happening there is absolutely nothing I can do to stop it. My instincts are to protect as best I can, be it myself or others, and I can't just magic them away.

There I go again, being defensive. They say you only get defensive when you're at fault, but they also say you only lock things when you have something to hide. Just because I don't want you to walk all over me or delve my deeper secrets does not mean I am guilty of anything. I have a right to privacy and a right to defend myself. So I'll leave this issue, not quite settled, with a final few remarks.

I'm sorry things don't always work out. I'm sorry I can be possesive. I'm sorry I place my own wants and needs over others sometimes. I'm sorry I can't always side with you. I'm sorry you think I never do.

But.

I am not sorry for being me.