Serious irritation at the moment. To make matters more annoying, I could have avoided some of it, if I would return to some of my normal and well-working habits instead of acting like they have no basis. For instance, I could watch television taped so as not to deal with commercials, and the news media that does such a poor job of pretending it's not commercial. Right now, I'm missing a scintillating report on why it's ok for me to "indulge in chocolate" without feeling guilty, and an edgy scoop about pro-anorexia/ -bulimia websites. I guess I have some committment to this; I don't spend as much energy at caged as I'd like to, but I give it what I can, and I don't think I could possibly rescind my investment, it being so firmly based in relationships which seriously affect me. But I hate the media coverage. I hate it. Contrary to popular belief, when I see a news preview about self-injury or pro-ed sites or any of this bullshit, I do not do a happy dance. I do not think, "Finally, people are paying attention!" Generally, I throw something with more force than I intended - usually the remote, right after clicking the power button. There's so little conscience in the media coverage. People do not fucking care about the damage; they want their darkly-filmed frightening images, their sub-suburbia nightmare of the week to get off on, and I don't know how to keep from being pissed off when I see that. The amount of damage they'll do, to people who are struggling, to people who will struggle, and to the attempt, shaky as it is, to do something about all of this is too high a cost for some competitive sweeps-ratings bullshit. I hate it.
I drove (rode) through yet another "D.A.R.E" neighborhood today, saw the sign by the side of the road and winced. I'm never pacified by a DARE sign; I always end up wanting to turn in at the nearest school, grab the principal or vice-principal or staff member in charge of student-personal-development and explain to them that DARE is proven to not only fail to help students but to actually succeed in damaging them. Funds and time and lives are poured into it every year, and it's a bullshit program. More kids end up on drugs for having gone through DARE; that's statistical fact. And whether or not I believe DARE puts kids on drugs, (I don't), it's ridiculous to continue that program with a blind eye to the damage, to simply use it as a shield, a panacea - ok, we put this in place, so drug-issues are covered. Oy. That sort of irresponsibility around human lives seriously infuriates me. Moreso - somewhat - when it has to do with eating disorders or suicide just because that's where my personal heart is at stake. But it's not a far jump to see the damage in any of the other areas. The difficulty is figuring out how to fix any of them. The part that makes me throw things has to do with people and groups of people who continue to contribute to the problem, when it's already so beyond our capacity to solve. A twelve-year-old in prime time announced tonight she's off carbs. Atkins influence, no doubt. Fucking bullshit fucking bullshitting fuck. I hate this powerlessness.
I hate this. I hate suicide as a plot ploy. I hate the idea of pro-ed forums as a political issue, as a matter of rights and human decency. What the hell sort of freedom would I ensure someone, if I nodded and looked the other way while they and those with whom their interacted died of a disease I do, for the record, understand? What right am I denying someone when I tell them it's not ok to starve to death, to purge yourself into an early heart attack, to have a stroke at nineteen, to be underweight, to be in that much pain and not receive help? And no, it isn't my life or my choice, and I don't have a right to force my own beliefs into someone else's life, but this isn't about beliefs. This is life. Excuse my concern but this is a matter of life and death. And for the first time in my own life, I understand why suicide is illegal. Does it stop anyone? No. But you don't have the right to take your own life. You don't have that right any more than you have the right to take someone else's, and I am tired of living in a world that believes otherwise. I am tired of dealing with this bullshit, and I'm not about to quit dealing with it, so how the hell do I maintain my sanity?
Oy.
In other news, which I feel like a total jerk for experiencing as I have, my brother strikes me, at the moment, as a complete and total baby. If he were (nearly) anyone else, I'd say he were being an ass, but he's so not an ass. He's such a sweet, protective, loving guy, and it makes total sense that he's self-absorbed right now; he's trying to put his life back together, and Godd knows that takes pretty much the entirety of a person's energy. I just really don't handle it well when a person (apparently) has no awareness of the fact that everyone with whom he's interacting is also having a life, with problems and joys and a requirement for energy. I think generally that's something he understands; he's so good to people, honestly ... but the fact that I'm having a rough time with the work in therapy, (he doesn't know why, but he knows, and that should be enough) the fact that I've had some sort of infection in my mouth and throat for nearly a month, the fact that both the therapy and the infection are bringing up unbelievably strong memories of being sick and starting to get help, the fact that the television likes to fuck with me, that my home is falling apart and I'm not even there to pick through the ashes, my birthday's coming up and I'd gladly skip it (it's not that I don't want to celebrate, I do...but everything that's going on and everything I can come up with to have go on come the actual day does not feel like celebration so much as agony)... none of this seems to be enough to even make him hesitate to talk incessantly, to concern himself with only his needs, and to shut down someone like me for not being interested or supportive or upbeat enough. I'm spending time with him, but I don't really want to be, so I'm not a good sister. I don't deserve a break. I hate it. I hate all of it.
There was some confusion tonight because he wanted to go in my room (and I didn't want that; there's been too much of that lately) to check something regarding a birthday present, and like I said birthday is equalling major stress right now, so I suggest he first ask my mom to see if she can answer his question. Keeping my space mine, since I already feel emotionally abused and intruded upon and what have you. So he and Mom go off and have this short conversation, and I sing off-key to keep myself from hearing them because my ears are trying to make up for my eyes, and I'm such a practiced eavesdropper, I seem to hear better when people are whispering. When they come back into the dining room, I throw out a couple of fun hints and guesses, and they laugh, and I say how I just have no idea what he could have asked about because I don't know what anyone would want to get me. (I don't know of many things I particularly want right now. Often the case. Probably not coincidentally. I think my parents should write me a check post-dated for late March, and I can pick up my materialism after the birthday shit is over. I get too caught up in trying to convince everyone that they're doing a great job of giving me a great birthday to actually have one. And with the divorce, that's going to be magnified. Grarh.) Anyway, he says that he got shot down so he can tell me, and he explains about a specific Tori Amos item that I don't have. I repeat a few of the details until I'm sure what he's talking about and then I say a little apologetically, "I don't have that." My mom erupts. She was sure that only today I'd been talking about that item, but no, dear mommy, there is more than one Tori Amos DVD in the world, and the one I was going on about in the car on the way to the physician-doctor was not the same. My mom was seriously sorry and guilty, and John was giving her a hard time, and I was way too upset about the whole thing. I wanted to tell him to not get me anything, but I know no one believes their sister when she says that's what she wants. And it's not that I don't want gifts (I just don't need them) - it's not that I have something against the perfectly legitimate glory of a day that's about me where I get things I'll enjoy... This just wasn't that. John thought we could bond over it being Mom's fault; I pointed out that I asked him to ask Mom rather than search my room - he insisted that it was Mom's fault nonetheless. Mom finally explained to him that I didn't want anyone to be guilty over this. So then we got to feel guilty over other things. Bitter much? I'm named after saltwater; what can I say?
No, really, I do not feel this way all the time. (How's that for resisting state-dependent memory, Dr?) I feel this way rarely. But power... Oh, I need power back. I need to be back in charge of what media gets into my life, as much as I can. (And I know that the news will do shows whether I see previews for them or not, but until someone proves to me that my agonizing over something has merit, I'm not going to torture myself. I probably won't even do it if someone can find that proof. Something - say, three years of therapy - tells me I do more good when I'm feeling less violent regarding the entire situation.) I need to get back in charge of what my birthday is about. Back in charge of how I spend my days, with my real priorities being my priorities. I need to put my needs first, without losing track of the fact that everyone else has their own set, and take care of myself. And, I really, really need a mouth that doesn't look like a circus attraction.
Quote from the phys.doc: "That's one strange looking tongue." My response? A pleasant smile and "it's one of its better days."
Agh!
~me