Face Value

Posted: September 16, 2014 in hidden admonishment

We are not friends, and having ever thought otherwise has cost me a lot of time and energy.
You can stop trying to throw that in my face any time now.
Your manipulative shit has no affect anymore, and I’m sorry if that pisses you off
or hurts your feelings.

You married your boss and hit your glass ceiling a long time ago.
A long, long time ago.
That’s not my problem and not my fault; and I didn’t consult you, because you’re not even my fucking boss.
You’re a supervisor, and again; I’m sorry if pointing that out to you hurt your feelings.
It’s not betrayal to discuss my decisions with your husband and his sister without acknowledging you

because let’s be honest

all you were going to do is exactly what you did after you found out anyway.
Being a manipulative bitch is all you can do. You can’t hire and fire. All you can do is make my job harder

Which I’m so shocked that you’re doing, by the way.

Because I really care about the shitty incentive I have to keep caring…which I oddly recall turning down
when your husband offered it to me in the first place.

I don’t give a shit what you do or what you think.

It really shouldn’t be personal at all, because if it was, I wouldn’t even give notice.
I sure as fuck wouldn’t care or keep doing a good job.
You are all petty, pathetic people and deserve to fail for the way you conduct yourselves, but who the fuck cares?
How I feel doesn’t matter.

All that matters is that I addressed what I find unacceptable about the job.
Your family offered no acceptable solutions, so I’m leaving.

That’s it. That’s all that’s applicable here.

Getting a raise at starting wage elsewhere with actual potential to progress,
access to benefits,
and a work environment where I have been and will be treated like a contributing adult

is just icing on the cake for me.

I’m attempting to conduct myself as a professional adult. I recommend you do the same
even though I’ve already lost all respect for you.

You can treat me however the fuck you want for these last…11 days, but I’m leaving.
I’m still leaving.
Don’t make it out like I betrayed you.
You can stop running your ugly mouth.
Don’t treat me like I’m worthless to your business.
Just suck it up and keep on driving that place into the ground without me.

chemical imbalance

Posted: September 4, 2014 in transliteration

Since early adolescence, I have been in and out of the care of many mental health professionals. I have seen counselors, psychotherapists, psychologists, and psychiatrists. I know the key variations delineating these titles. I have been hospitalized both inpatient and outpatient. I have had equally varied diagnoses and treatment regimens over the years both voluntary and involuntary.

When you tell me, “I have a chemical imbalance,” there’s no judgement here. I know that you’re familiar with the system. I recognize the language. I won’t look at you like you’re weak or sick or marred by an inferior genetic makeup.

I cope without treatment. It’s a personal choice that some doctors have supported and others have not. It’s not easy, and I’m certain it’s not always in my best interest. I wish you wouldn’t seek my advice on this, as if what I’ve done is a solution. I don’t know you. You say you don’t want to take your medication anymore and that your doctor advises against changing what has been sustaining your current state for over a decade…so you keep taking it.

I can’t tell you what’s best for you. Why do you want to stop taking your medication? Go back to when you started, and think about how and why you entered the system. Try to remember how your mind worked when it failed you. The things that are missing, the things that don’t work the same way on medication, don’t think about that. Think about the worst moments when your brain tripped every wrong wire. Wrong by your standards. Your mind left you where you didn’t want to be and didn’t leave you with the resources to change that. If you’re properly medicated, you won’t be able to simulate the intensity of those feelings. You might not even have those memories anymore, and the healthy mind wonders why you would want them.

If there’s something in you now that’s missing the worst of your worst…

I deal with my worst, because I don’t think the same way when in treatment. It’s a common gripe with mental health patients,but it bothers me. It bothers me more that, despite this construct trying to accommodate the proclivities of an individual, the whole point of treatment is change. It helps alter the links the mind makes. Even if it’s psychotherapy without any physical or chemical intervention at all, it’s meant to help adjust thought patterns.

I don’t want to do that.

I’m essentially an organic alcoholic: There’s not a problem. This is fine. Fuck you. Except, sure, I can see how you might see this as a problem. I don’t like it either, so it’s a problem. It’s not fine, but still. Fuck you. It’s my problem. You’re fine. Fine, I’m sick. Leave me the fuck alone. Fuck you.

Keep taking your meds. Balance your brain chemistry. There’s always going to be a little bit of dry drunk in there.
Always.

Didn’t they tell you?

It’s a disease.

Adulthood

Posted: August 28, 2014 in hidden admonishment

You don’t deserve most of the things you have.
You didn’t really earn them.
In fact, you’ve forgiven yourself for forcing people like me to shoulder your bullshit
and have even attempted to push my resentment of this mandatory burden off as nothing other than a character flaw I possess.

Yes, I may be flawed, but I own my flaws.

You’re a blind, selfish little pig who continues to cause others to suffer while you wallow in a false sense of satiety.
It doesn’t matter if you’ve forgiven yourself, because the comfort it provides is only important to you.
You really don’t give a shit about anyone except yourself, so why expect the people you fuck over to fucking care about you?

Enjoy your stuff.

the overachievers

Posted: August 26, 2014 in Uncategorized

I am a typical underachiever, preferring to keep a large amount of my time void of responsibilities and inactive.

Free.

Contrary to this, I have a relatively strong work ethic and find myself climbing when I have no intention to climb.  Working is one thing.  Attempting to get subordinates to work the same way is entirely another.

I dislike people.  I loathe shouldering the responsibilities of and for other people.  In this regard, I am not a leader.

Unlike the grand majority of my peers, and those in the generation following mine, I do not fancy myself a leader.  I do not prize the leadership role.  I have no fucking interest in trying to prod others.  I would much rather paint the fence myself than trick others into doing it for me, because I want to know that the fence is painted to my specifications in the most efficient way possible.  I want the fence painted, painted well, painted fast, and once it is painted, I want everyone else on the other side of the fence.

Go the fuck away.

Promotions are dropped at my feet, because I am a hard worker.  I’m given a task, and I do it as thoroughly and efficiently as possible, and then I come back for another task or I leave.  So, here’s an idea.  Let me work.  I am a worker ant.  Worker ants work.  I like to work, get shit done, and leave.  I have no fucking interest in trying to get others to work instead. 

Work stays at work.  Any time I am not paid for is mine.  All mine.

I do not want to socialize.  I do not care if we like each other or not.  I do not care about who you are or what you do outside of the construct of our intertwined jobs.  This is not my career.  I am not emotionally invested in this.  This does not make me a good candidate to move up in your business.  I do not work for the satisfaction of a job well done.  I do not work for a sense of purpose.  I do not work to contribute to something bigger than me.

I work so that I can sustain my free time.

What I do with my time is my business.  With most of it, I choose to do absolutely nothing.  I don’t need a promotion in order to achieve this free time.  I’m not asking you for a raise.  This isn’t a power play.  I’m telling you I’m fucking leaving, because you don’t understand that your bullshit is eating into my time.  Mine.  My precious free time.

 

 

 

Conversation I’m not sure I want to have later today:

“Hey coworker I’m on good terms with but don’t care for one way or the other. I know you’re eight months pregnant, but are you missing a pink and blue xanax/morphine cocktail? I only ask because I happened across one in my car, and…well…it’s not mine.”

example

Posted: June 6, 2014 in otiose

At my heaviest, I weighted 100kg (220lbs).
That was a long time ago.
At my least healthy, I weighed 58kg (128lbs).
That wasn’t quite as long ago, but it was still a long time ago.
I didn’t even want to lose that weight.
It crashed from 81kg (180lbs) in a year and I could see upper ribs
lower ribs
hip bones
It was just as gross as any extra rolls ever were.

I just didn’t fucking care.

My body has been through a lot, and the most unhealthy images are what stick with me.
At either extreme.

It’s a struggle to give a shit.

I don’t enjoy paying my bills anymore. I would rather take a four mile walk just to avoid doing it. I have been very diligent for the past…lifetime. I’ve paid them promptly and without too much scorn when I was homeless, and I’m not even on the cusp of financial ruin right now. I just don’t want to fucking pay my bills.

I’m still going to pay them. I still do. It’s not like it was ever an enjoyable task. “Enjoy” is the wrong word, but it held a certain sort of gratification. At least, I could tell myself, I was doing something tangible.

Everything gets muddled when I admit I give a shit about things outside of myself. I’m not striving for the same self-centered, albeit self-destructive, things I was a year or two ago. I’m also not convinced I genuinely care about where my life is drifting in lieu of former pursuits, so I’m essentially passively self-destructive at this point.

I know there’s a problem, but I don’t want to fucking deal with it. I don’t want to identify it. I don’t want to put in the work to find a solution. I don’t want to give a shit…

but I give a shit.