I’m a Villain

Do you ever feel like you’re the villain in your own story? Not just metaphorically, but actually.

Today, I realized that I’m a complete asshole. I’m a bitch. I’m a terrible person and an even worse daughter.

Today, I made my father cry. It was subtle, but it was there.

I didn’t realize that what I was saying actually affected him until he came to me and said so.

What’s wrong with me?

How can one person be so cruel? I thought I was jokingly speaking to him, but apparently not.

Here’s the story:

He asked what happened to the Rumchata that was on the counter? And I said, ‘well you drank it all. It’s gone. What do you mean?’ I said it with the same attitude I’ve had towards him for most of my life (which I know is a problem). He said he didn’t drink it all and I just kept saying he did, like he drank the Fireball and all the other drinks I bought. And I walked away and left him standing there.

For context, we’ve had this or a similar exchange before. But this one was different.

He came to my workstation with tears in his eyes and said something along the lines of, ‘Even if I did drink it, it was only a small small sip. I can’t have that?’ then he walked away.

Of course, I immediately got up and went to him and gave him a hug, which to be honest I don’t remember the last time I did that. Granted, we’re not a hugging family like that. But still, I hugged him and apologized and told him I loved him and he told me a story of his childhood.

I honestly hate that I am this way. I feel like I know the underlying reasons for it, but it still sucks that I can’t bring myself to change. We’re not getting any younger and time is just constant flying by and I am wasting it by being the way I am.

I am a terrible person and daughter. I know that. I’ve known that. But, I haven’t acknowledged really. Maybe now in doing so, I can learn to change.


My home isn’t the same anymore

This weekend I went to Chicago for a retreat and when I was on my way back from the airport a weird wave of emotions came over me. I didn’t want to come home. I didn’t want to  be here. But, most importantly, I didn’t enjoy the warm welcome I was given.  I was just overwhelmed.

Before I came home, my  mom called me and said that my uncle would be staying with us for about two to three weeks because he’s doing some sort of program in the area, but lives two hours away. We JUST had family stay with us for my sister’s wedding and I am tired.  But it’s not even just people staying with us that’s a problem. I am tired of cleaning up after people. I am tired of using dirty facilities. I am tired of feeling constant anger towards my father.

My home isn’t the same anymore because I am now the sole provider for this household. I am the one paying the bills, but I don’t have any income coming in. I haven’t worked since September and I spent about $10,000 since then. I am starting to become stressed out because I am constantly applying for jobs, but I am constantly being rejected.

I feel like I am stuck. I feel like everyone else is moving on with their lives around me and I haven’t made any progress. It is coming up on four years since I’ve graduated and I feel as if I have wasted my time. Yes, I got a job, but it’s not consistent. Yes, I got into a master’s program, but I didn’t go. Yes, I’ve lost some weight, but I gained it all back. Yes, I stopped self harming, but I relapsed a few times. Yes, I was raped and was suffering, and I got over it, but then I didn’t. I feel like I am doing all these things and not making any progress or even worse, going backwards. The only thing I can say that I accomplished this year is the fact that I read three books already. Yay?

My home isn’t my home because when I am here I don’t feel happy. I feel angry. I feel tired. I feel like I am a child living in an adult’s body. I keep giving and giving to others and doing things for others, but can I say they’ve done the same for me? I feel like a butler, a nurse, and an assistant, all at the same time. I want to move out and be on my own and have something of my own, but if I leave how will my parents afford this house?

I hate that this is the stress that I have to deal with at the age of 26. I also hate that I am all alone in it. I don’t have a partner to share the good things that happen in my life. Nor do I have one to be there to pick me up when I simply can’t go on anymore. I know I have friends, but I don’t know how to explain to them that,

  1. I am not okay.
  2. I am not happy.
  3. I am not the same person I used to be.
  4. I don’t like who I have become.
  5. I hate that I am angry all the time.
  6. I hate that I am not succeeding professionally or personally.

I hope that something changes soon, because I hate that my home isn’t my home anymore and I am tired of being here.


Things I’ll Never Say

Avril Lavigne wrote a song entitled, “Things I’ll Never Say” and those lyrics have been on repeat in my for the last hour. Of course I’m going to tell you why, but first the lyrics.

I’m searching for the words inside my head

‘Cause I’m feeling nervous
Trying to be so perfect

If I could say what I want to say

Guess, I’m wishing my life away
With these things I’ll never say

It don’t do me any good
It’s just a waste of time
What use is it to you
What’s on my mind
If ain’t coming out
We’re not going anywhere
So why can’t I just tell you that I care

Things I’ll Never Say – Avril Lavigne

Earlier today, at work I had to take Theo who is entering into 8th grade in the fall to get some books, because all the books that he has at home are at a reading level that is way too young for him. While we were searching for books, which was a chore (tell me why this kid didn’t even want to go into the bookstore instead he wanted ME to go in alone and pick out a book for HIM to read. When I asked if he was serious he said yeah, you would know what I would like to read. Like Boy, Bye.)

Anyway, while we were in there he found a couple of books and then handed my the book 13 Reasons Why. To which I replied, I don’t know if you are old enough to be reading this book and anyway I have to ask your parent’s first. But, he claimed that he’s seen the show and that he parent’s knew that he watched it. So I said we could get it, but I still wanted to run it by them of course.

Parts of me was like, yeah this book is definitely too mature for him, but then other parts were like he was interested in a book and really wanted to read it, so who am I to stifle that, especially when he hates reading.

Long story short we get home, both parents say no. Dad was an aggressive no and didn’t want him reading or watching the show and was mad when he found that he did watch a little bit of it. Mom was just like a shocked, “yeah no”.

Which really got me thinking, At what age did I learn about suicide?

I think I was about his age. I don’t know if you guys remember the website Xanga. But, Xanga was where I first started online journaling. I had two pages. One for all of my poems that I used to write (they weren’t really poems just stream of consciousness middle school angst) and another was about my everyday woes of middle school. Anyway, since my poem page was more of a secret page I had followers on there that I didn’t really know. I met a girl on there who used to harm herself and we started talking. At first, I just really wanted to help her, she was looking for a friend and I thought I could be that one. I think she had written on her blog that she had been hospitalized a few times for suicide attempts and I think that was the first time I had really heard anything  about the word or someone wanting to do it.

Growing  up in church, you learn that suicide is a sin. Growing up in my household, you learn that suicide is selfish.  So, I learned both.

Side Note Confession: I have thought about suicide a lot. Never far as to how I was going to do it, just really death in general. For instance, as I am driving I think about how easy it would be for me to  get into an accident. And not even necessarily with another person, I think about ramming my car into walls or off bridges, etc. Aside from cars, I’ve thought to myself a couple times during self harm incidents what would happen if  I cut too deep and couldn’t stop the bleeding. I have never acted on these thoughts obviously, but they are unfortunately still there.

The Xanga girl was one of two interactions that I online with suicidal people.  The second one was a friends little sister. Somehow we started messaging on AIM and she told me her story and how she didn’t want to live anymore and I just talked to her. I made sure she was okay, and didn’t want to harm herself so permanently anymore.

I bring this all up just to say, and I asked my friends when they learned about suicide to get a general census (they all said about middle school age), at what age can kids start to learn about it. Also, why not now? If he’s (Theo) is interested why not let him read it and we discuss the themes within the book.

I get not letting him watch the show, I don’t even want to watch the show, the first thirty minutes is already vastly different from the book and I don’t approve. Not only that, everyone that I have heard that watch the series has said that it glorified suicide which I  am not here for. But, what I don’t get is why we’re so afraid of the topic. Some people have said that maybe it might put the idea in his head if it wasn’t already there. I feel like that’s not wholly plausible. If someone never thought about murder and watched Dexter or How to Get Away with Murder, I don’t think the idea is now in their head to go and commit murder.

But, I  definitely get it. Wanted to shield your child is something that every parent goes through. But, at what point in time are you making subject so taboo that they will feel comfortable coming to you. I know for a fact that I couldn’t go to my parents about suicide because they would just shut it down as something that’s selfish and stupid. So I kept that and a lot of things inside. There were and still are so many Things I will Never Say for fear of rejection, judgement, and disappointment. But, it’s not fair you know?

I’m not just talking about suicide now, but all the things that make us uncomfortable. It’s not fair that we can’t talk about them. Or that we are not allowed to talk about them. I shouldn’t feel uncomfortable talking about the female reproductive system with my girls, or sex in general, or anything of importance. I feel like I have tried to be perfect for so long I have forgotten how to be vulnerable.

There were so many things that I was told not to talk about by so many people that I have just stopped talking about everything.  I am very selective when it comes to sharing my information with my friends because at the end of the day I don’t want to get hurt. It’s not fair to me and it’s not fair to them as my friends because it looks as if I can’t trust them.

The moral of the story is this, I feel like there are certain things that we should talk about openly now that way people don’t feel ashamed to talk about them later in life. Because God forbid Theo’s ever suicidal, I want him to be able to go to someone to talk about how he’s feeling without fear of judgement and ridicule.

I just want him to be able to be open and honest about the same things I am having trouble with expressing now. Which is basically everything.

Alex. ❤



I Bring This On Myself

I have come into the habit of talking back to my parents and it’s not something that I have ever thought I would do. Why? For fear of getting a whooping. But, look. I am 24 years old living at home with my parents and being treated like a child.

Perhaps it’s because for the past 24 years I have acting liked a child, but now I am tired of it. I am tired of living at home, under someone else’s rules. It’s 2017, it’s time for me to move on and move out. I don’t want to leave my mom, but I also don’t want to stay here with my dad either.

We don’t have the best relationship and I am tired of pretending like we do. I have hoped for so long that it will change and I have tried to change myself to help the situation, but there are just too many things that he has done in the past and is still continuing to do today that are bothering the heck out of me.

Granted, the arguments that we get into now, I bring on myself. I ‘ve caused everything that has happened to me.

So now, I am trying to cause this. I want to cause myself to get a job and move out. I want my own place, my own life, my own responsibilities.

So this week. I am putting every possible effort into finding a job, a good paying job. Any job really. And hopefully something will come out of it. If not, hopefully by next week I will know whether or not I have gotten into my Masters program. I just hate that I don’t know the next step of my life right now.

But as we learned at church yesterday, God has a plan for me and he already knows what’s around the river bend. I just have to continue trusting in him. He’s known my life since conception and he has a plan for me.


So many thoughts…and not enough words.

This tends to happen to me a lot. I get OVERWHELMED with the thoughts that are in my head and I feel the need to write them down, but I physically can’t.

This is also why I haven’t finished my book. I know how I want certain scenes to playout I know who the characters are and I know what’s going to happed to them, but I can’t bring myself to writing it all down because it’s to much. My hands literally cannot type as fast as I can think.

This is always why I have this nasty habit of jumping from one thing to another because that’s how the thoughts are arranged in my head. I find myself skipping words when I type because my brain can’t process what my head want to do.

Back to the initial point at hand, I didn’t want this post to be about my book. I want it to be about the new year, I wanted it to be about how I was going to change certain aspects of my life while retaining others. It was going to be about my resolutions and how I plan on keeping them this time. This post was also supposed to be written days ago. Here’s a shocker, I’m rarely on time for things.

I also tend to get distracted easily. In the 5 minutes since I have begun this post I have been distracted about 7 times. I keep stopping and starting, and wondering what I am going to type next.

This post wasn’t even supposed to be this long. This was supposed to be two maybe three paragraphs of how I was supposed to write, how I didn’t, why I couldn’t, and what is causing my emotional break today. I haven’t even gotten to that. I haven’t even had the chance to tell you that today is my father’s birthday. And that my mother, I know you’re not supposed to start a sentence with and, gave him a birthday cards with words printed on it that came from a loving wife, and proceeded to write in her own words which read, and I’m not not quoting.

I wish this was how we are. This is how we used to be, and this is how I felt. But, not anymore. I am lonely and unhappy and I don’t want to feel this way anymore. I told you this expecting you to change and you haven’t.

Happy Birthday right?