----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- news at eleven I had to talk with my brother about getting a new bathroom sink. I hate having to ask for help with financial matters. I hate having to ask for help with anything. Part of it is that people act so awful when you need help. Even government agencies that are there just to help people. (Sometimes they are the worst). Part of it, a large part of it, is that I feel like such a loser. So many people can take care of themselves, support themselves, pay for what they need. I feel like a huge fucking loser that I can't do that. I tried. I failed big time. I keep trying my best, and that's a lot of why I feel so pathetic. I know logically that a lot of severely mentally ill people have issues with holding jobs, managing money, controlling impulses, keeping a place to live....I've seen it with my friends (you HAVE TO be insane to be my friend) and I've seen it on shows like Hoarders and just seeing people in passing on the street. It's extra difficult because my brother is the kind of person that doesn't understand why anyone would have issues like that. He thinks he's plenty crazy and he makes it to work and pays all his debts and makes all the responsible decisions, so why can't anyone else? I guess that's why Mom and Dad left him in charge of the estate. My oldest brothers blew through their inheritance faster than me, and then turned around to my youngest brother to ask for an "advance" on the sale of this house. I have only asked for help in fixing up this house. And a lot of my inheritance went into fixing up my old house (which is partly why it was so hard to leave). When he's in a mood, he likes to remind me that the house is in his name. My older brothers like to think this house was left to all of us equally, but that's not what the law says. I know my brother is letting me live here as a courtesy. I am trying to take care of it and treat it like it was my own. If I didn't live it, it would be sitting vacant, full of stuff, falling apart like so many of the other houses around here. Whenever I can afford to fix anything on my own, I do. I've had the house treated for mold, professional air duct cleaning, fixed the fridge, fixed the tub, fixed the faucets, bought a new washer, installed new deadbolts (this house didn't even have deadbolts!)... I do all the lawn work (had to buy a lawn mower and trimmer), planted trees and plants, go around and pick up the garbage from the crackheads every week... I cleared out the house from 50+ years of hoard and organized family keepsakes into a safe place, instead of having them spread all over the entire house mixed in with garbage... Not to mention all the deep disaster cleaning I had to do when I first got here. So, I know that I am capable of doing things. I work really hard. I am just not very capable of existing in this society and doing things they say are worth money. My brother can't understand that, either. How I can be capable in one way and not another. It makes me feel like shit and it's not fair. It reminds me of when I was a kid. They tested me and put me in the Gifted and Talented programs in school. Whenever I had trouble with some subject, it was always the same thing...I got yelled at by the teachers, and then by my parents about how I wasn't trying harder. I was sooooo smart, there's no reason I should have trouble counting money or learning how to tell time or writing in cursive. They always said I should be doing so much better in math, but no one ever did anything about me mixing up the numbers all the time except to circle my mistakes in red pen and tell me I wasn't paying attention and I needed to focus and try harder. Back then, you couldn't be gifted AND have a learning disability. I don't know if you can be dyslexic with just numbers, but if that's a thing, I have it. I still juxtapose numbers. Phone numbers, numbers on bulk bins, long numbers like medical ID cards have. There's an excellent chance that if you tell me an address, I will mix up the numbers and get lost. That happened when we had to go to a realtor's office to sell our house and that fat fuck yelled at me then, too. I apologized and told him I got the address wrong and he just shook his head and tapped at his watch and acted like I was the world's biggest fuck up. I know I'm really down right now, but I am really sick of almost everyone I know or have ever known treating me like shit. People wonder why other people snap and do crazy things like bombs or mass attacks. They honestly wonder why. From a leaky faucet to desperate hostage situations. Maybe I don't have bipolar. No chemical imbalance at all. Maybe I am just a narcissistic asshole. 9:01 PM - Sunday, Dec. 18, 2022 ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- |
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