True Confessions

I have to remind myself yet again that I am writing this blog for myself. I told Elsa about it because I didn't think I'd ever have anything that I wouldn't want to tell Elsa. But there are a few things that I haven't written about because I'd just rather she not know.

So, Elsa. I'm going to write about something I'd prefer you not know about it. And if you continue reading past this point anyway, I won't blame you. But these aren't really things I want you to know.

Now I'm going to insert this miniature paragraph so that she won't catch a glimpse of the confession and get even more curious than she already is. Alright that's enough, I can't think of anything else to type in this little distraction.

Confession One: AOK and I had sex.

I know. I know. I don't even know. I mean... it blows my mind that my brain has deteriorated this much. The worst part is, it was my fault. It was my idea. I don't know why I suggested it or why I did it. He didn't jump for it like some completely selfish jerk, although he didn't need much convincing either.

I don't know why I did it. Part of me is so angry and upset about it. AOK and I aren't strangers by any means, but we certainly aren't emotionally attached to do something like that. And this part of me is so confused, because she doesn't see a point in physical attachment without emotional attachment, too.

And then this other part of me doesn't regret it. Firstly, I think it makes what Han did seem less important. Kind of like saying, "See? It's no big deal. People do this kind of thing." Which isn't really true. But also, it's almost like this part of me knows that it's damaging, and is glad. I don't understand that. But whenever Alice thinks, "Why do that? It's going to be painful later. It's going to be bad," then Judith thinks, "Exactly."

And I know that AOK regrets it. Well, he says he doesn't regret it. But he says he shouldn't have done that and we won't do it again. He doesn't care what we do as long as we don't have sex.

Confession Two: I started cutting myself.

What the freaking crap? I think I've spoken before on how I feel about self-mutilation. I hate the idea. I've been so determined for so long to never, ever hurt myself like that.

So what drove me to this? I have no idea. I can't even remember why I did it the first time, which was a few weeks ago. It was just a few scratches. I was frustrated and lonely and confused, and I guess I thought I deserved it.

After that, I would let them heal, but once they weren't red anymore, I got restless. It bothered me when my wrists were normal. I felt like there should be cuts or scratches there. So every time they were nearly healed, I'd do it again.

Well, AOK found out. I went to his house one day, and I was carrying a watch to keep track of the time. While we were talking, he took my watch and started to put it on my arm, and pulled my sleeve back to do it. He wasn't happy. He kept rubbing my wrists with his thumbs and saying, "Damn, girl." He made me promise to stop.

I did it once after that. And the morning after I broke the promise to him, I was so upset with myself. My skin was burning and I felt absolutely horrible for causing myself injury and for breaking that promise. I went to AOK's house before school in near-tears. I told him I wouldn't come see him anymore and I wouldn't talk to him and that he needed to stay away from me. I asked him if he could really care about someone who could break that kind of promise. I asked if he really wanted to watch someone he cared about tear herself apart like that.

He told me that I had better not stop being his friend like I said that I was going to. I told him that it was what would be best for him. "Don't make my decisions for me. I'll decide what's best for me, and right now, I'm deciding it's for you to see me. If I change my mind, I'll let you know. If this is a mistake, it's the best one I've ever made," is what he said.

Mom, Dad, and my psychologist all know. And maybe my psychiatrist. I think Mom and Dad talked to my psychiatrist. Mom and Dad also know that AOK is the only friend of mine who knows and who I'm comfortable knowing. This doesn't matter much to them, but my psychologist and psychiatrist think that Mom and Dad both need to back off and let me make my decisions where AOK is concerned instead of banning me from seeing him.

But honestly. I'm freaking out. I mean I'm really freaking out. In the past couple of weeks, I've done two things that I promised myself and others that I would never do, and part of me still wants to do them. A big part of me. I'm really, really confused.

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Can You Feel The Love Tonight? Oh Wait... No.

It may very well be that nothing I am about ready to type will be worth reading, but Han is sick and Elsa has someone else over, and besides that, talking on the phone may result in being overheard, which would only result in wasted tears, sore throats, and mass chaos.

Dad is driving me freaking nuts. Seriously, he won't shut up. Ever since we got back from vacation, everything is negativity, negativity, negativity. And yeah, okay, I bet I provoked him some, but how can I help myself when he's acting like such a jerk? Only a couple of months ago he was saying that Clara (the bunny) wasn't being played with enough and that I needed to play with her more, and now he wants to put her in the garage? Why doesn't he just skin her and put in a pie? If we put her out there, it's a recipe for sickness and/or death. Bugs and cats get in there and it gets too cold during autumn and winter for her to not freeze to death. And it's not just that, it's everything he's said lately.

He's renovating my two younger sisters' rooms because they haven't been redone since we moved into this house, which is reasonable. I had mine redone a few years ago for my birthday. In addition, Dad's friend's father died a while ago and he left some furniture to my family. Now, in speaking of redoing the two bedrooms, Dad kept talking about "being fair to all three children", but he wants to not only completely re-paint and re-curtain and re-whatever their rooms, he wants to give one of them the furniture, too, which wouldn't be that big a deal except that I love the furniture, and how is that even "fair to all three children"? Okay, I had my room re-painted and everything a few years ago too... but as a birthday present. They are getting theirs redone just... so they can have theirs redone. But somehow, me wanting the old furniture that means nothing to anyone else is such a selfish thing that I deserve to be yelled at and chided for about an hour. I don't get that. I just don't get that. And THEN they said, "Well if you get the furniture, you have to give one of the other girls your room." What? Does someone need to review the definition of fair? Because I really don't see the fairness in that... or how putting my rabbit in the garage or the basement could even possibly be a good idea.

Call me crazy, but I am finding it very hard to believe that either of my parents care about me half as much as any of my sisters. I guess that of the four of us, I would be the "troublemaker", probably the more smart-alecky, rebellious one... but if they didn't bait me so much or completely ignore how I felt, maybe I wouldn't be so angry at them. It's like neither one of them care at all about all the effort I put into school to keep them happy or how admirable it is that I take initiative to do things like church and cleaning on my own (more church than cleaning I guess), and I don't think either of them acknowledge how hard it is for me to sometimes resist such common things as foul language, alcohol, or casual sexual...whatever.

Dad said that the older of my younger sisters deserved the furniture more because she has such low self esteem and not very many friends and it would really help her feel special and all I could think was, "Does this guy really think I have good self esteem? Has he not noticed that aside from Han, I have about 1 and a half friends?" It feels like my feelings are hardly taken into account, if they are at all. Is it any curiousity that I get snappy during conversations like that? Dad really likes the phrase, "I'm the parent, I'm in charge."

Well I'm the incredibly sensitive, distraught, somewhat emotionally-neglected daughter, so it'd be really appreciated if he'd shut up for like thirty seconds and take into consideration that I really am old enough to move out when I want. How seriously I would consider doing that would depend on any job that I get and how stressful school is once it starts. But let's look at it this way: If I move out, they will not help pay for college. However, I don't plan on going to an expensive college, and they weren't going to pay for all of it, probably only about four thousand a year. Which is a lot, but with the right job, I could pull it off. And even if I couldn't work enough during high school to pay rent at an apartment, as well as for food, Clara, and a car, which I guess it's pretty likely I couldn't, Han's family likes me and they have an extra bed. That would tick off Mom and Dad, but hey, if I'm not living with them and they aren't helping with college anyway, I really don't care. I could sleep in their spare room, pay for my own food and for Clara, and Han and I could both make insurance payments on the blue car. Sounds like a plan to me. More than likely a plan that I will never execute... but let's wait until I get a steady job to decide for sure.

I guess I've talked mostly about Dad so far. Mom hasn't really done anything except that she doesn't really seem to care how any of this makes me feel and she's not being all that objective. She always gets really angry if I say anything against Dad. Love is blind, I guess. I'm less angry at Mom than at Dad, for sure. If I accuse Mom of being uncaring, she is hurt, and I feel bad, because I know I was wrong. If I accuse Dad of not caring, he just gets angry... which pretty much just tells me that I was right. Still, back to Mom, I'm all about that phrase that if you're not part of the solution, you're part of the problem, and if Mom's not going to try to help me at all, then she's only making it worse.

I'd really like to just not leave my room all day tomorrow. Maybe I'll take some cereal and a pitcher of water upstairs tonight and lock my door tomorrow morning.

Except I really like using the computer.

I am just so angry right now. Like I said, probably this was not worth taking the time to read, but I was really more considered with keeping my brain between my ears than entertaining anyone.

I wish Han wasn't sick. I also wish that I cared about my parents as much as they seem to care about me. That is to say, hardly at all at the time being. Then I wouldn't feel bad about moving out. I really don't want to be here. At all. I wish I had a friend's house that I could just go to whenever I was having a bad time at home, but, oh wait... I don't. And besides that, I don't have a car. Emily got a car when she turned 16... but when I turned 16, Mom and Dad bought a new car... for them.

Mom and Dad are good people. But I am really just not feeling the fairness or the love right now.

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Happy Father's Day

My dad and I don't get along very well, for three reasons: We both possess a horrible temper, we are both unreasonable when angry, and we are both tied for 'Most Stubborn Person In The History Of The Planet."

So it shouldn't surprise anyone that it took me approximately forever to find out that I really do love my Dad. Like a lot. But I really do. I'm constantly impressed by his strength, fairness, and love.

My dad is really tough. Even when he's sick or injured, he still manages to get things done. Also, I can honestly tell people, "My dad could beat up your dad." :P He is also a kitten-lover. He doesn't like cats so much as he likes kittens. We did have one cat, though, that he loved, named Big Daddy. Big Daddy was a special cat because he was a tame wild cat. What I mean is, he was a big, tough stray, but when he finally started living with us, he never scratched any of us once, and, unlike a lot of male cats, he was not mean to kittens. In fact, he'd wash them and sleep with them like a mother. Dad and Big Daddy were tight.

So Dad didn't take it too well when two of the neighbor's dogs killed Big Daddy. Dad kept the gun by the door for weeks for the scenario of the dogs coming back, which they only did once, and, unfortunately, Dad forgot where he'd put the bullets.

Big Daddy, unlike any of our other cats, got a padded wooden box to be buried in, and three pine trees planted over and next to him. That was Dad's doing.

That was a long story. It was meant to illustrate Dad's soft side.

One thing I really like about Dad is that he is a very good husband to Mom. I know it is not uncommon for couples to divorce, even multiple times, and I'm very proud that I can say my parents still love each other very much.

I complain about my dad a lot, but I really do appreciate him and all he does. He's a very hard worker and takes very good care of us (which can't be easy with four daughters).

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p.s. : The picture is from postsecret.com