In the Beginning

Well, really, that was too long ago to remember. I just know thatIi've always been, for lack of a better word--a bitch. What can i say? I'm my father's daughter. For years i'd watched him treat my mother poorly, flying into fits of rage whenever he wanted, calling her names, threatening to leave so that we'd have to fend for ourselves. His bags were packed and stayed packed. Always. and we just rolled with it, rallying with mom against him.

Perhaps it was that sort of history that turned me into what i am today: a needy, clingy, possessive, jealous, and callous person who flies into fits with no provocation or reason. Just because. I suppose it would be easy to just assume that that was the case. But I have another option to consider...another explanation for why I couldn't help but drive away my most recent boyfriend thanks to my ridiculous antics so inspired by my father. "Walking on eggshells," according to my then departed sweetie. He was tired of it. Hmm, where have I heard that before? Oh yeah, mom mentioned it about dad the other day. In any case, consider the highs and lows, the ups and downs. Not all of it is pms, although that may factor into it to an extent. I'm talking about real problems--that which affect the mental state, chemical imbalances, and whatnot.

I'll admit, I know nothing about mental health problems other than lithium was at one time used to treat manic depressives (do they still call them that anymore?) so it's likely that i'm not using the correct terms. I'm only postulating that it might explain some things about me. About dad. About why I sometimes feel so miserable even though there's really nothing so wrong with my life. I have a house, my health, a wonderful teenaged son (oxymoron?) a job, etc.

Maybe I'm just looking to put the blame of "why I am the way I am" squarely on something other than the fact that I'm just not a very nice person to those I love. Maybe they need to just move on with their lives and leave me as I am. Let me grow into the lonely, bitter old woman that i'm destined to become if I don't turn my shit around.

Are you kidding me?

I want more in my life other than my cat and my own miserable thoughts. I certainly don't want people remembering me as some ridiculous, pathetic creature who had nothing better to do than find faults, start fights, and hold grudges. I'm willing to make a change in my life just so that I don't recreate the same hell for others that my father made for us. No one deserves that. My boyfriend certainly didn't. Doesn't.

I've created this blog to document my journey toward bettering myself. I've made an appointment with a therapist who will hopefully help me get to the bottom of this--finally!! Will it entail the use of drugs? If it does, I'm sorry I didn't opt to see one sooner. In any case, I'm hoping that I can control my rage long enough to make it to that appointment. I've made promises to my sweetie that I hope I can keep (he's back home, but his bags remain packed--and I don't blame him.) I want to be able to manage these attacks that cause me to explode into a raving lunatic at the drop of a hat, and typically, over nothing...last time it was because I was jealous over the fact that my honey mentioned how thin one of our coworkers was, which I didn't quite agree with. So, did that mean I was a fat pig? I guess it did that night, but let's forget about that lest I get myself all worked up over it again.

I'm looking for happiness. I'm looking for peace. I'm looking for recovery for those that have suffered so long with my shenanigans that they are not certain they can deal with my attempt to change.

Today I look okay in the mirror. Must be the beauty of anticipation reflected on my face.