Sick of This Shit

Sick of this shit. Sick of being compassionate with my clients, who can be some very fucked people. Sick of trying to work so, so hard in therapy. Sick of “using” every bad sad destructive thought that comes into my mind.

Sick of the weirdness. Sick of having so, so many unrelated splinters vying for attention. Sick of moderating arguments from dozens of spoiled petulant and frightened children and young adults. Sick of trying to have them communicate with one another when I don’t even know what means.

Sick of getting laid and having young children pop in. And teenagers and adults who have no business being there. Sick of having to address them at the time. Sick of having no privacy whatsoever anymore.

Sick of trying so hard to be positive open-minded self-challenging. Sick of not meaning a fucking thing. Sick of remembering all those twisted personal things that happened to me. Over so many years.

Sick of being confused. Sick of the screaming howler monkeys. Sick of being fucked up then learning from it then falling apart again then learning from that…..

Sick of getting raped. What that client did to me a few days ago is not cool. She totally violated me. Sick of trying so hard to have it really mean nothing. It’s not nothing. It has shaken us to the core and we have had enough of it in our life.

We can’t take much more of this. The Furies are supposed to be keeping me safe. They are frankly over it. I am not worth surviving.

I hate telling stories of the things that people did to me as a kid. Even the least invasive send “normal”‘people thru the roof and the worst stuff shocks the most hardened and abused. I am sick of having lived thru the worst shit I’ve ever heard.

I am sick of therapy. I have been in very intense Therapy for over a dozen years now and it has just worn me down. The 46th minute is just a brutal time and I am just so over brutality.

I am sick of wondering if today is the day when enough is really just enough. The drama is too much to bear and if I stayed alive there would surely be more to come.

I am sick of pretending that I am okay after this thing this past weekend. It has broken my back.

Sick of hearing about motherfucking pixie dust worlds. Just surround myself with positive people, just forgive the people who did me so bad. Be in touch with my all-seeing and all-knowing side. Sick of being told to foster my Inner Child. Sick of having people tell me ways to behave that will make this pain and fury vanish. When I hear this shit I always thing well but you don’t understand…I don’t live in Disneyland, I live in Neverland.

Sick of being mknimalized. Sick of people telling me what to do. Sick of having no idea of what to do for myself. Sick of people lying to me. Nobody can care about this ugliness.

Blah blah blah whatever. Nothing really matters, anyone can seeeee nothing really matters….to me.~~Queen.

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6 Comments

  1. Karita said,

    February 16, 2010 at 4:30 pm

    Oh Splint. There’s nothing I can say. Just wanted to let you know I care about you. Very much so. Others will most likely have far more helpful things to say but this is what I have. I care about you. *Hugs* XXX

  2. February 16, 2010 at 4:38 pm

    Just wanted to echo Karita’s sentiments. You matter to us hun. xxx

  3. jo-sexualself-injury said,

    February 16, 2010 at 4:45 pm

    Want you to know I’m thinking about you. For myself, I’ve found that I have to take a break from therapy once in a while. My brain can only take so much.


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