Rant VIII: The Reckoning

So I went to a K-8, and in 5th grade, none of my friends were in my class, and my best friend had just transferred to public school because the school I went to tried to incorporate her family's "missing" tithes into her school tuition. That year we got a new girl, who decided that since I had no friends in our class that I was the perfect target for all of her shit. We weren't allowed to sit with any class but our own at lunch, because "everyone should be friends" or some such bullshit, so by the time the next year came around, none of old friends hung out with me either. Thankfully, I was really only tormented by this girl and her friends and everyone else just ignored it. (I was basically on neutral terms with the boys because I was the girl who read Nintendo Power in class and they thought that was awesome.) However, I definitely ended up bonding with the outcasts, and ended up with a friend who thought it was awesome to gouge her nails into my hands and arms when I didn't do what she wanted, to the point that I was actively hiding it from my parents just so that I actually had some friends.

THANKFULLY, once I went to high school, these issues went away, and my high school was weird anyways, at least my class, because a lot of the popular kids were also smart and involved in the music program/marching band, which was basically as big of a deal as the football team. ;)

Really, the moral of my story is, girls are way more evil than boys, but it's socially acceptable to just ignore that shit.
 
I don't really need hugs, at this point it's a footnote in my life, BUT I do greatly enjoy my MOTHER lecturing me about her worries that my son will get bullied when she never noticed it herself.
 
I don't really need hugs, at this point it's a footnote in my life, BUT I do greatly enjoy my MOTHER lecturing me about her worries that my son will get bullied when she never noticed it herself.
Well, he's male, so he's more important to society.
 
No, friend, I have more expertise in psychology than you do. One check mark in a list of warning signs does not mean a child should be labeled with psychopathology. Trust me there is more to becoming a serial killer/psychopath/sociopath than one action, despite what you choose to believe.
I don't know... I've watched a lot of Criminal Minds.
 
My father is knowledgeable about many things. However, there are things like, oh, child development and psychology, that he knows far less than he THINKS he does. It doesn't stop him from stating his "facts", either. He also forgets that his experience is limited to one kid who was surrounded by 3 other adults for the first 10 years of her life. And yes, while he was a teacher, it was never for anything younger than middle school/junior high. So during one of his 3 visits a year, when he thinks he knows my kid better than I do, I tend to nod and walk away, hoping I don't bite through my tongue. I've argued back, but he convinces himself he can't be wrong, so it's not even worth the headache.
 
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I was a military brat. My family moved every 2 or 3 years. I went to a lot of different schools. But I did notice one thing that was constant, throughout the 80s and early 90s.

Every school had a "dog."

I don't mean an actual dog, I mean there was a female student at the school who was the designated social pariah, and in fact was more than once referred to explicitly as a "dog." She was treated cruelly by everyone, often insulted and degraded to her face, and perpetually mocked and slandered by the other students, often as a bonding ritual. Your estimation in the eyes of other students would go up the more you punched down at "the dog." And woe betide you if you ever stuck up for her, or defended her, or even acknowledged her as a human being in any way, because the others would turn against you as well.
Yeah, that was me in elementary/high school. No, I don't go to reunions.[DOUBLEPOST=1447813738,1447813482][/DOUBLEPOST]Meh, I didn't post that for the hugs (though hugs are always welcome, gimme, gimme, gimme) but more to say that Gasbandit was spot-on.
 
I was the social chameleon in high school. I hung out with the jocks (because I did martial arts), the nerds (honors classes, academic decathlon), the stoners (uhm, for reasons), the heavy metal guys (though there was often stoner overlap) and the preppies.

But I really only had like 2 decent friends.
 
What's the fucking point of any therapy if I have to come home to such a negative, condescending, judgmental environment? Either I feel constantly under pressure from my father to do something with my life or come up with a plan or even just get a job, or it's my mother constantly scrutinizing me on every little fucking thing. Worse, she laughs. Like yesterday, when I was feeling down. She asked me what was wrong and I said nothing. And she laughed. She FUCKING CHUCKLED. I finally lost it and asked her what was funny. She said that I was fine yesterday and didn't understand why I was down. So I asked again how that made it funny.

And she does this all the time. Oh, I slept in? Chuckle. Up early? Chuckle? Wear a certain shirt? Chuckle. Every single waking thing I do in this house is scrutinized, it's any wonder that I have no motivation to do anything.

And worse - worst of all - I can't do anything about it. Because believe it or not, she takes criticism worse than me. When I asked her why she laughed, she stormed off, saying something like "I swear to God, you and your father..." I can't say ANYTHING critical because she gets upset. It's any fucking wonder where I get it from.

I've never felt so trapped in my goddamn life. I can't find a job that's secure enough or pays well enough that I can live on my own. And I'm such a completely and utter emotional disaster that I can't come up with any kind of a plan. The question I hate more than anything is "Where do you see yourself in five years?" because I can't even see myself in five months, weeks, or even days. Hell, even hours sometimes. I can't plan or schedule.

So I'm stuck. I'm stuck in an unsupportive, toxic environment and I can't do a goddamn thing about it. This is it for me. This is my life. This is all I'm going to amount to. I'm 37, living with my parents, and that's it. Because it's so fucking hard to get your name out there as a writer, I won't make a name for myself. So there's no point, is there? There's no point anymore to anything.
Because you're one of the good ones. The rare bright spot in a world filled with the stuff you mentioned.

And that's becoming a rare commodity in this world. There's too many bad people in the world. So it needs all the good people like you to can get.
 
Good for you.
Nah..the point wasn't that I was doing well or anything by fitting in with just about everyone. I often felt like the outsider. I didn't have a great high school experience. I wasn't often the target of bullying (though I think most kids get some eventually, and I had my turn), but I also wasn't invited to parties or to hang out or anything like that, either.

School was pretty lonely for me.
 
My High School from grades 9-11 was pretty good. I had a wonderful group of friends and we hung out a lot. But, because my dad is military, we moved before grade 12. So....I go from a normal school with great friends in Canada to an American private school over in England with a bunch of 90210 spoiled brats. Grade 12 sucked. I had zero in common with those princesses. I made some great British friends who lived in our neighbourhood but school sucked that year.
 
Nah..the point wasn't that I was doing well or anything by fitting in with just about everyone. I often felt like the outsider. I didn't have a great high school experience. I wasn't often the target of bullying (though I think most kids get some eventually, and I had my turn), but I also wasn't invited to parties or to hang out or anything like that, either.

School was pretty lonely for me.
That was my experience in high school. I fit in with everyone and no one at the same time.

Though the worst thing I had happen was in 8th grade when I decided to throw a party around Christmas. I invited all of my girl friends who were the cool girl clique in my middle school. No one showed up except my cousin whose mom made her come over out of pity.
 

fade

Staff member
I didn't hang out with any cliques in high school. I didn't get along with the jocks or the nerds, and any of the others for that matter. The jocks were too jocky, and the nerds were not as smart as they thought they were and spent all their time blaming other people for their social status. I just kind of got to the point where I didn't care.
 
I moved to the Philippines during 5th grade. The foreign transferstudent in a school,where 99% were locals.
During my first week I got jumped by 2 upper class students. They were irritated by me bolsterous,loud attitude. Quite a few people were flocking to me,not because I was popular,but because it seemed like I had a lot of money. (all foreigners are rich clichee)

Anyway,they were pissed off and wanted to teach me a lesson. I got wind of their plan, put a lead pipe up my sleeve and outside the gate broke one guys collar bone. Got suspended for quite a long time. Didnt have many friends after that.
 
When I was in high school, I was adored by all. Everyone wanted to be my friend, because I was so stunningly beautiful I reduced all who beheld me to tears. But I did not deign to befriend such peasantry, I was afraid their commoner diseases would sense my pristine allure and gravitate towards me, and I'd be infected by their plebian maladies.

That's why I didn't have any friends in high school. Yeah.
 
Today a local family lost their 4 year old child to DIPG - a rare childhood brain cancer with, so far, a 0% chance of survival. I never knew the family or the child, but I know a lot of people who do, and it's hitting me surprisingly hard right now. Perhaps because I have a 4 year old that in a lot of ways looks like Chad Carr.

They got a lot of attention and worked toward getting people to fund DIPG research, even knowing that it would come, if ever, after their child died. The University of Michigan/Ohio State game this Saturday will be a little depressing because both teams are wearing decals showing support for Chad. Last night driving to a church activity we passed what must have been well over a hundred paper bag lanterns lining the road near another church with some activity supporting Chad and his family.



It was only maybe a week ago that they entered the hospice care stage of this cancer, talking about spending their last time together as comfortably as possible while mentioning the frustration of Chad just trying to be understood while talking, and just like that he's gone.

I suppose it reminds me a lot of North_Ranger's passing, just days short of two years ago as well, and the speed of his passing from the time he gave us any clue he was close to the time he passed.

cancer sucks :'(
 

Dave

Staff member
Cancer sucks. Kids having cancer sucks beyond belief.

If I found out I had terminal cancer I'd be like, "Well, I've had a good life. Time to have a good-bye party." If one of my kids got cancer (even though they are older now) I'd be looking for an outlet for my anger.
 
Cancer sucks. Kids having cancer sucks beyond belief.

If I found out I had terminal cancer I'd be like, "Well, I've had a good life. Time to have a good-bye party." If one of my kids got cancer (even though they are older now) I'd be looking for an outlet for my anger.
my dads greatest fear was "is this a curse on my line? have i damned my son to the same fate?" the oncologists reassured me that after his passing this was an environmental cancer and not something he would pass to me.
 
Panicky version: we've got no heat and no water.

Less panicky version: the boiler has failed, and the drains are still clogged.

More info version: The motor to the blower has failed. Power is still going to it, but it's not turning. It's just buzzing and getting hot. I've tried canned air and turning it off to cool down, but it didn't work this time. So the space heaters are the only source of heat in the house this morning.

The drains in the basement are still plugged up. After a load of laundry, I found water all over the floor underneath the downstairs refrigerator where we had the clog problem a couple of years before. I'd tried a 20' rooter when I fixed the toilet last week, but it didn't take.

We allegedly have one of those home warranties, but in an emergency, who has time to wait through those layers of red tape?
 
I've been waiting weeks and weeks and weeks for this stupid, goddamn day therapy treatment program to start. They first had me come in and watch a series of videos about self-coping. Which...I don't know if they can even help because I have no way - or even know how - to practice them. Especially while living in an environment where trying to voice anything gets me shouted down.

I can't look for a new job because this program is an intensive 6-week, Mon-Fri program. I'm seeing my psychiatrist and the program's case worker together on Thursday to...I don't know, discuss the program.

But honestly? I don't even think this program will do me any good. Nothing else has in the past, as far as any kind of long-term. I'm still stuck living with my parents, I still can't find a job that could remotely support myself, I don't really have any friends I see on a regular basis. So I spend most of my days sitting in front of the computer surfing, playing games, or looking at porn. And because it's still fresh, my mind keeps going back to my ex. Because all I do is sit at home, brooding. I miss her but at the same time, I don't want anything to do with her. And yet I keep foolishly looking at her Instagram account, which just causes me more pain. I blocked her on there, but it doesn't work like Facebook or Twitter: she can't see my posts if she looks at my profile, but I still all of hers. It doesn't block both ways. But I keep looking because...I don't even know why. Because I'm an idiot.

I don't even know anymore. I really don't.
 
I've been waiting weeks and weeks and weeks for this stupid, goddamn day therapy treatment program to start. They first had me come in and watch a series of videos about self-coping. Which...I don't know if they can even help because I have no way - or even know how - to practice them. Especially while living in an environment where trying to voice anything gets me shouted down.
I can't look for a new job because this program is an intensive 6-week, Mon-Fri program. I'm seeing my psychiatrist and the program's case worker together on Thursday to...I don't know, discuss the program.
But honestly? I don't even think this program will do me any good. Nothing else has in the past, as far as any kind of long-term. I'm still stuck living with my parents, I still can't find a job that could remotely support myself, I don't really have any friends I see on a regular basis. So I spend most of my days sitting in front of the computer surfing, playing games, or looking at porn. And because it's still fresh, my mind keeps going back to my ex. Because all I do is sit at home, brooding. I miss her but at the same time, I don't want anything to do with her. And yet I keep foolishly looking at her Instagram account, which just causes me more pain. I blocked her on there, but it doesn't work like Facebook or Twitter: she can't see my posts if she looks at my profile, but I still all of hers. It doesn't block both ways. But I keep looking because...I don't even know why. Because I'm an idiot.
I don't even know anymore. I really don't.
Because you're one of the good ones. The rare bright spot in a world filled with the stuff you mentioned.

And that's becoming a rare commodity in this world. There's too many bad people in the world. So it needs all the good people like you to can get.

[DOUBLEPOST=1448463006,1448462835][/DOUBLEPOST]...and so help me God I will KEEP ON POSTING THAT until you get it through your ####ing skull.
 
Grrr I have now spent more time explaining to a mendicant that what they believe needs to be done was in fact done than it took to do what needed to be done.
 
Not sure if I should be quoting Mark or Job here.
I genuinely don't understand why you don't feel like your quote should be invalid because it is being applied to you.

--Patrick
Because being a good person doesn't mean jack in my situation. I'm a cliche, jobless, directionless, unambitious loser living with his parents.
 
A

Anonymous

Anonymous

I genuinely don't understand why you don't feel like your quote should be invalid because it is being applied to you.
It's not invalid, but it may be unhelpful and can be perceived as hurtful.

When I am in a depressive episode, or even an extended morose mood, I don't want to be pulled out of it, much less by things I've said in the past. In fact when reminded of things I said when I was feeling good it can almost feel like they're being thrown back at me, like I'm being forced to eat my own words. I understand it may seem like a lifeline to the one proffering it, but to me it's yet another whip.

About the only thing you can do for a person who is depressed is listen, be present, and then when they are feeling better try to get them help that will benefit them next time.

Please note that while I use the word "depressed" I'm not a medical professional, and am not offering any sort of diagnosis. I have not received any diagnosis myself, and I hesitate to compare what I rarely experience with those who have clinical depression. I'm using the term simply to indicate the periods of time when one is in an emotional pit, beating themselves up, with no hope that they can leave the pit. Anyone who experiences similar feelings should consult with a doctor/GP.
 
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