Were you talking?

Why is it that lately it’s annoying me more than usual that my father flat out ignores me when I’m talking? It’s not as if this is a new occurence. I’ll be talking to my mother, he decides he has something to say, so he just talks. Or he’ll be talking to me and I try to make a point or offer a suggestion or a reinforcement to his position, and he completely ignores it, or begins talking over me. Nothing new. Lately though, it just bugs me and I’ve been retaliating.

This morning he came marching in talking about something that happened at the city council meeting. Mom doesn’t care about anything that happens in local politics. He talks about this constantly, doesn’t matter she doesn’t care. He cares. That’s all that matters. Mom is too polite to tell him she wishes he would shut up. I’m there, so Mom walks out. He keeps talking to me. I tried making a point. It was too good of a point in opposition to Dad’s view. He got a bit annoyed, was able to backtrack though and change gears. Something else about the council meeting, about all that’s done for the youth, and something about young adults or adults, and I said, “Well there isn’t anything for them to do.” He quickly dismissed this since it wasn’t what he wanted to talk about and said, “I’ve always said, adults should be able to find something to do.” and I said, “Just like a politician. You would make a great one. What about the skate park and the bike thing. Kids should be able to go play in their yards. If anyone should just be able to find something to do it should be them.” But he’d already dismissed me and started talking about something else,.

Soooo, he’s still talking about whatever and I want to make a point and I even say to him, “Listen to me, I’m going to agree with you,” and when I start making my point he starts talking over me so I say, and I say it in normal conversational tones, not in an undertone or under my breath, but just like I was still talking to him, “OK, you don’t listen to me, then I’m not going to listen to you.” and I went about what I was doing, Dad talking happily away. Then when he finished I kept on doing what I was doing and didn’t respond. Finally he asked, “Are you mad?” and I said, “Didn’t you hear me? I said that if you aren’t going to listen to me, I’m not listening to you.” and left the room.

The reason I’m telling this story is this has been my whole life. A lot of BDD is low self-esteem. Hard to have good self-esteem when even your parents ignore you.

I have a cousin who will talk, talk, talk at you and talk at you and talk at you. Non-stop. He’ll follow you around as you try to leave, talking non-stop. He’s got friends and at work he sees people all day and they come by and hang out with him, so I don’t know that  it’s all about him being lonely. So I don’t know what it is other than he’s incredibly selfish. But I’m afraid of being like him. That I’ll just follow people around talking because I want somebody to talk to.

But I don’t want to be like my Dad. Talking over people and ignoring what they have to say. Making them feel insignificant.

Hello out there!

I don’t think anyone will ever read this, nor will anyone care. I’m only doing this because I need a place to get it all out, some place where I can kid myself that someone out there is concerned or maybe understands. Writing in a paper journal has its sad moments. It’s harder to do away with. It is evidence if it is found.

This is just my place to go because I have nowhere else.

Sooner or later I will make the About Me page. Here are some bits and pieces of me…

I am 38 years old. I live with my parents. I don’t have a job. I own a business, but it doesn’t do well. I have chronic migraines and for several months had almost non-stop pain from them, but no one cared. I now take three different types of medicine to help prevent them, and a fourth to help knock them out when that doesn’t work, and will probably need my dosage increased on one, and I still have migraines every day. And no one cares and I wish one person in my family would appreciate the fact that I managed to hold down a job for two years until the pain got so the only way to make it stop was to keep moving and I felt like I was going insane. I wish my family would understand that being in pain is not some kind of weakness or something to be ashamed of and I think I do a very good job of not showing it. I wish that someone would understand that just because I don’t lie around crying and holding my head and whining, doesn’t mean I’m not hurting.

I have body dismorphic disorder. For some people they’re only concerned with one defect, for me, the defect starts at my scalp and goes to the soles of my feet. It also goes inside me. All the way through. I don’t know what I’ll see when I look in the mirror. To make it worse I gained a lot of weight, then I lost a lot, and gained 25 pounds back. So I’m not just ugly, I’m fat too.

Apparently I also have a rotten personality, am cynical, don’t trust anyone, am unpleasant, through in a lot of nasty adjectives and that would describe me. It seems all I do is sit around and criticize everything and everyone. And all this time I thought I was a pretty nice person.

Funny to find out you’re as ugly on the inside as you are on the outside.

No big surprise I am majorly depressed. I try to hide that too. Depression is just another thing to be ashamed of. I have no reason to be depressed. AFter all, I live with my parents, right, and don’t have to work a full time job.

But I’m 38 years old and live with my parents and have to tell them where I’m going and who I’m going with. I can’t just get in my car and go for a ride. I have to have a reason.

And even though I’m the youngest in the family you can bet I’m to blame for everyone else’s bad habits and problems. Just stay tuned and I’ll explain it all.

If you’re wondering why you should keep reading, my number one reason is that you’ll feel better about yourself knowing you haven’t let your life get as messed up as I have. You at least have a life.

I’ve always been afraid of zombies. I may not be dead, but I’m a zombie.