Going Back 1/14/2004
It's the last day of break, as expected, I don't want to leave. I always get like this right before I have to go back...I hate this time of the break. I wish I was already on the bus or something.
Anyway, last Monday I had my last appointment with my psychologist. I don't know how/why it happened but I got so riled up by something that really wasn't important to me. I brought all of my artwork home because I really wanted to work on it. I'd been asking my parents to set up an area for me so I could paint. My mother hates it when I do stuff in my room, because in her brilliance, she carpeted my room white without asking me first...why you would do that with a kid who's into medssy art projects, I don't know, but anyway...so I'm not allowed to do anything art related in my room because it gets all over the place. I used to have an art area set up in my garage, but my brother took the table and used it as his beer pong table, and the garage became filled up with even more junk, and now there's really no room for me to work. I'd been asking my parents before the break even started to please get me a table or an easel so I could work on my artwork. I asked them throughout the first week of break, and when no-one did anything, I just stopped asking. I have no idea how this got brought up in my meeting with my psychologist, but it did. By the time I left her office I felt like garbage. I hate being the middle child; especially since I'm quiet, I feel as if I get passed over a lot of times.
The odd thing was, I wasn't even thinking about the dumb art table until it somehow got brought up by Peach. (Peach is the name I'm giving to my psychologist). I was in the car with my father, who picked me up, and I brought it up. My Dad, of course, blamed it right back on me saying why didn't I remind him. All of a sudden I got so angry. I reminded him plenty of times...they keep asking how they (my parents) can help with this anxiety problem I seem to have. I've told them over and over again that art, more than anything else, just helps me think and calms me down. They ask how they can help, I tell them, and then they don't do it. So why bother asking?? I got into a fight with him in the car. Later, I hear him complaining to Mom in the kitchen. So I went downstairs and yelled at the both of them. As usual, my father places the blame on me, walks away, and my mom take the blame. It made me even angrier. My father deals with stuff by simply not dealing with it, and my mother deals with everything by just heaping everything onto herself. I just got so frustrated....at being ignored for the stupid art table...by not having my own space...my father being an ass....my mother being the martyr...for me being the bitch, as usual...
I'm frustrated with the way I act. In a way, I'm glad I stood up for myself. With Rebecca and John, who are the loud ones in the family, they tend to get what they want faster than Jake and I do, simply because Jake and I are more quiet. I believe our parents love us all the same, but they sometimes put Rebecca and John first simply because they are louder and more obnoxious about their needs. On the other hand, my mother really didn't need to be stressed about the stupid art table. Her mother is dying, she's under tremendous pressure, and my father is almost never around. She didn't need me complaining. However, I have been begging them since the summer to please just give me some space to do my art. Why was it allowed to be taken in the first place? My father has taken over the playroom with his computer stuff and crammed the garage with unused knick-knacks. Why can't I have my own little corner of the house? Why do I have to ask them so many times to the point that I'm yelling? I feel like I'm either a doormat or a raging bitch, and there is no middle ground with my personality.
My mother came upstairs later to talk to me, and we ended up yelling. I told her that this place no longer felt like home and that I was glad to be getting out. She yelled at me that I should have reminded them. (Apparently, asking them for the past few months hasn't been enough). We didn't speak the rest of the night, and the next day. I literally woke up, ate breakfast, showered, put another pair of PJ's back, and slept throughout the day while occasionally watching the history channel.
My mother tried to talk to me this morning, but I backed away. I hate feeling like a doormat. "It's OK Mom, we have 13 rooms in this house and I'm not allowed to do art in ANY of them...even though it would probably make me feel better...but that's OK, I like living in this museum of a house." Then again, if I say something, it's never 'a good time.' Yes, my mom's mom dying, but it's always something. Over the summer my parents were on the verge of divorce and then it wasn't a good time to ask either. During the fall my mother was busy with bar mitzvah arrangements, and it wasn't a good time to ask either. It's always something. So I end up getting pissed, and then we get into a fight, and then I feel like a bitch. So I either feel crummy because I act like a doormat and say nothing, or feel drummy because I say something and then feel like a bitch. I don't like myself very much right now, and I'm not happy with either of my parents at the moment.
I've been so miserable during the break. With no place to do art, I sat around my room and watched t.v. for almost four weeks straight. And my parents wonder why I'm so miserable. So I'm leaving tomorrow morning, and I'll hopefully get into Binghamton by 6, so I can be in my apartment and changed by 7. I just spoke to Erin and we're already making plans to pre-game at Ashley's and then go downtown for open bar at the Rat. Finally, I'll be doing something other than watching t.v.....
I'm apprehensive to go back though, because as much as I like my freedom, I hate it at the same time. I'm terrified abou that speeding ticket I got. Big said I have a lot of mail, which already put me on edge. I petitioned the ticket, since it's my first speeding ticket. If they accept my petition, that means less points will be put on my license. After my acciddent in August I'm terrified I'm going to have so many point on my license that they're simply going to take it away.
The other thing that has me worried is my car. I had to leave it up at school over break. I worried I won't be able to get it out of the parking lot because of all the snow, or the locks froze, or that my gas tank froze, or I'll need to call AAA to jump the battery. This means more money on this damn car, and more wasted time on doing stupid stuff when I need to grocery shop, run errands, clean, or look for a job. So we'll see...hopefully I'' catch a break and the damn thing will run.
The other thing that'[s up in the air is the deal with Christopher. If he doesn't want to date me any more, fine, but fucking tell me. He hasn't called or IMed me since returning my call on New Years Day. I feel even crummier because he spent the night with me the last night we were there. So now I just feel used. So yeah...expect a lot of entries to be written when I get back to school.
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