Getting That Vibe

Well, this has been some week.

Not-so-unexpected news that still crushed me. But it was good, after a 24hour processing period. Somehow, now, I feel I can let this go. Tuck it into a box and shove it in some dark corner. I don't know why this helped, but, suddenly, things are a lot easier. Thanks God?? Thanks for this personal hell I've been living in for over two years that suddenly became manageable? I don't know. Maybe there was a reason. Half of me laughs the idea of God to scorn, but the other, more emotional half, wishes...

I wonder if I am depressed, like, clinically. I never have been one to seek out new experiences on my own. I lack some serious intiative. But, lately, I haven't been reading any new books. I still have a current book, but it's taking me a month to get through just ONE, as opposed to the five day per book ratio I used to do...when I was in college AND working. I'm not excited by anything anymore. I still am moved by the flow of words, a glimpse outside, but, it just feels like the beauty doesn't hold any deeper meaning anymore. The promise is gone. Even when I look outside and know that the trees, the rain, the air, the green, is beautiful,  the magic is gone. The beauty feels soooooooo indifferent now. It used to stir and define me, it would make a terrible day seem absolutely miraculous and precious just by catching a glimpse outside a window.

And, the other news of the week: the thick, negative vibes have returned. From my step-dad. Oh no, he won't say anything outright, not until he blows a fuse. But it's simmering, his irriation and dislike for me, more than usual. Talked to Mom about it tonight, after getting off of work. About his (crappy) methods of communication and his (unspoken) expectations of me that I am not meeting. And, strangely, they are very particular, both the communication and the expectations. Apparently, my idea of being considerate and civil does not meet his requirements.

I refuse to placate him. He's not my dad, I have never considered him as a father-figure, and he absolutely IRRITATES me. He doesn't work half as much as my mother does, he is nearly always feeling sick or in pain (because he likes to overdo it...), always railing against something, is ALWAYS right, and needs quiet 24/7. Mom takes care of nearly EVERYTHING and he is never satisfied. He ignores half the things she says, or the occasional thing I volunteer because I CANNOT stand the weird silences at dinner. In a quiet, disgusting way, it has to be his way or the highway, while he sits in front of the tv during most of his free time. And he has a problem with me living here for a year without paying rent. If he had had children, Mom would never have expected something like that from them. They would simply be family and welcomed. And, after all, this situation isn't permanent!!

These stupid, SILENT expectations. They laid out no rules for me when I came here. Why can't he just spit out what he wants from me. If it's more than I'm willing to give, I will leave and make it work. God.

When I make a step, a painful step, forward towards my future (he has NO IDEA how painful it has been), he berates me for not getting further along. He has no idea who I am, no idea what my college experience was like, how I perceive myself (black hole, incompetent, less than the dust of the earth, etc, etc). He doesn't even know the basic things about me. And he doesn't care about it. From the very beginning of their marriage, he would just have his neverending, one-sided conversations with us, and expect us to agree. Literally. He gave no room to hear our thoughts and he's never wanted to hear them. So effing bullheaded, I could scream.

I could rant more, but I'm done.  I'll keep you posted on this passive-aggressive crap.

P.S. I have decided to give up the idea of a Master's in Library and Information Science. Going to be practical and go to Tacoma Community College in January, after getting my official state residency, studying Health Information Technology. With that, I will be able to work in Medical Records, a section that has virtually no interaction with patients. Sounds just grand. Wish I had just done this instead of going to BYU. But I wasn't considering my options then, not really, and Library Science did seem like a real possibility. Not anymore.