I Want It To Be Over Already

In order to keep functioning on a daily basis, I've had to make a deal with myself that I would never live to see thirty.

I am turning 26.

I'm not holding it together, it's like slapping tar paper over a leak when the roof is about to implode at any second. My friends keep saying: "Oh my god, you're holding it together so well! You're managing so much better!". It's not true. Not even a little bit. I have been unemployed for three years. My Mother, who I've been caring for my entire teenage and adult life has less than a year to live because she refuses to go on dialysis. I have a GED. My only job was a part time-gig which I made only about 25 dollars a week more than the cost of gas to get there because my boss was bi-polar and randomly decided she hated me, there for, cutting my 7.50 an hour job down to 4 hours or less a week. A job where customers were allowed to throw things at me, scream, swear and man-handle me and my boss did the same. At this point, I cannot actually even LOOK at a job posting without going into a full-blown panic attack which lasts about four and a half hours. I am worthless. I hear about it on a near daily basis from my family and even some friends. I have only ever been in relationships with people who cheat on me, lie to me and treat me like I'm less than dirt. I have received dog biscuits and clothing my grandmother didn't take back to the store in time for Christmas from my grandparents when they buy my cousins fine jewelry, appliances and lavish vacations. Any gift I give is never 'good enough' for anybody in my life. Particularly the beautiful hand-made things I will spend literally hundreds of hours on, painting tiny details with miniature brushes, sculpting the veins on anatomically correct hearts, sewing dozens of yards of fabric. Tiny, meticulous, details which are always brought back to me a week later completely destroyed because someone overloaded a bag, took something in the shower, let their friend/relative, do something to it, got rough with delicate fabric and tore out a seam. They expect it fixed. Now. And until my 'shoddy workmanship' pops up again, I can forget seeing these people until they need something tailored or a painting of ******* flowers to match their new ******* bathroom. I'm a machine to these people, except you occasionally get a machine fixed. When I break, they dump their kids on me because I'm 'not doing anything' and there for, my time belongs to other people.

I came home today without eating all day, doing 20 miles over the speed limit for two hours in traffic because my mother wanted the car back before dark because she doesn't trust me with 'her' car which she cannot drive because she's legally blind, she cannot take care of, because she is disabled, she cannot pump gas for because the pump scares her and she can hardly get into, because she refuses to even begin to do anything her doctors tell her to do. I still got home after dark. I still got grilled for going out to help a friend for the weekend and not being at home cleaning the house to my Grandfather's military standards because he's decided to come see her. I came home to all the furniture pulled out, dust and flea powder everywhere, on every surface. Cat poop in my bed because she shut the door to my bedroom locking one of the cats in. The counter was so solidly covered in junk that I had to eat my dinner on a small corner, while being grilled. I sleep in a room that looks like something out of 'hoarders' because I have not cleaned my room since I was fifteen because I cannot get any time, or space, to myself. When ever I try to clean my own space, she dumps things into my room, comes in and complains about the mess, or has a specific way she wants it done. I sleep on a broken futon on the floor because my bed is covered in junk. This room, is killing me. The walls are pink like a little girl's and all it makes me think of is the fact that this room, has been changed every time I have left it, without my permission. When I was a kid, even my clothes would disappear from my drawers because my father didn't like me in them. He didn't like me in much of anything. The rest of the house, I clean compulsively, for most of my days, though you'd never guess it. Anything I clean is usually trashed an hour after I've made it right. Believe it or not? Cleaning is part of my 'mania' times. It's clean, drink, or cut, sometimes all of the above. People who know me just think I'm a clean-freak with a ridiculously messy room. It's 'funny' and 'quirky' and 'artsy'. It's none of those things. It's ******* disgusting.

I am so ugly that it actually hurts me to look at myself. My eyes are like two holes burnt into a pepperoni pizza which has been dragged across the floor of a barber shop. My hair is coming out, great clumps in my brush which will not stop. All I see is scalp. I am gaining weight again and it has settled on my body like gobs of melted candle wax. My *** and thighs look like two trash bags full of cottage cheese, sloshing around. Even my teeth are small and round and set into so much gum it's almost cartoonish.

I came in today, faced my reflection in the empty mirrored shelf in the living room. I came in and faced the sound of her voice, telling me I'm wrong again, I came in facing a horrific mess which I cannot clean without her directing me like traffic in the middle of it all risking a fall, or getting sick. I came in and faced poop in my bed which I cannot wash because she keeps complaining about the water bill and I have to keep her laundry and bedding fresh at all times, which requires doing an insane amount of laundry round the clock.

Today, I want to die more than ever and I want to feel every last cell dieing as painfully as possible so I can feel something other than the ****-storm going on in my head. I desperately need to feel extreme pain, so I can feel like I've atoned for all of the **** that I have messed up.
I cannot live to see thirty. Alone.
BlueSelkie BlueSelkie
26-30, F
1 Response Jan 13, 2013

I'm sorry you are suffering. Stay as strong as you can and hold on. One day you will escape and have a better life. Don't give up.