Tuesday.

My head is feeling better but my mind is blank. I am very calm right now. Like, unusually calm. Totally zenned out, in fact. I don’t know if that’s a good thing or if it means I’m going to die very soon and I’ve just accepted it for what it is.

Guess we will find out.

Now, what are we going to do about Ireland?

I have no idea.

What are we going to do about jobs and money and school and life? No idea about that either.

Well, all we can say for sure is that this one job site I’ve been using is NOT working for me at all, so we will stop using it altogether. No point in wasting more time and energy throwing applications into the void.

We can also say for certain that we will not be able to acquire the funds we need to pay the summer school bill by tomorrow, which is when they are due.

Okay.

We can also agree that I can quit therapy now because I’ve finally reached the understanding that it doesn’t matter what I do. It doesn’t matter how many classes I take or what jobs I do/do not work or where I go in the world. My family will never love me or accept me. They’ve hated me since I was born. They don’t want me around. No matter what happens, the blame will always be on me. I am the Scapegoat and the Punching Bag and that is what I will always be to them. It’s never going to change. Therefore, I just have to pretend they all died or something and just move on with my life like they don’t exist.

It is what it is.

I know that sounds bad and depressing, but seriously. There’s only so many ways I can say, “These are my boundaries. Please respect them. Please respect me and stop treating me like garbage.” There’s no point. All they do is stonewall me, give me the silent treatment, and then circle back around to blame me for all the problems in their world because I committed the oh-so-terrible crime of standing up for myself and asserting my boundaries.

It is what it is.

Whatever.

When I look back on it, it makes sense. That’s literally the kind of person my mother is. She will bitch and moan and complain all day because The Thing is Broken. Then you will fix it for her and suddenly she’s weirdly quiet because she has nothing to point to and say, “This Broken Thing is Ruining My Life!” Then she will simply break it all over again so she can go back to the same self-pity, learned helplessness cycle, until you fix the thing for her and it happens all over again. And again, and again, and again, and again, until one day you wake up and realize, “This bitch doesn’t want to Fix The Thing. She wants to be negative and complain so she can weaponize everyone’s sympathy. I can’t do this anymore. I really can’t.”

And then you finally walk away and live happily ever after and never have to deal with that bullshit energy again.

The End!

Grand!

I can only carry so much weight around with me these days. I’m making the decision to unload the family drama and cast it off into the sea. I just don’t want to deal with it anymore. They’re really sick, toxic people. I am not responsible for fixing them. I can’t fix them. I also can’t carry the weight of being everyone’s scapegoat anymore. Literally all they do is manipulate my emotions and set me up to fail and then scream at me regardless of what happens.

I’m not doing it anymore. I’m just not.

Who cares if The Russian is judging me for not calling my grandmother? Who gives a fuck what he thinks? He used me as a free sex worker and then vanished into thin air. This man knows nothing about me, nothing about my life, nothing about my struggles with my toxic family. I’m not taking any of his dumb, totally un-woke advice.

Looks like we are right back where we started from on the board. Sigh. I have no idea how to play this game called life. I guess that’s why I’m so zenned out right now. I don’t really care if I live or if I die. At least if I die, it will all finally be over. No more pain, no more suffering, no more bullshit. What a dream.

In the meantime, I’ll just keep going. Not sure why. There doesn’t appear to be any kind of reason or purpose for doing so. Oh well.

It is what it is.

Okay, bare minimum today: email the Galway people, explain my situation, and hope we can magically manifest a scholarship and/or all-expenses paid trip to Ireland so I can dig through the archives and find the ghosts of my Irish family. There is absolutely no doubt in my mind that they will be much more fun than my actual living family.

After that we can work on something else. Literally anything else. Like my self-esteem that is in the toilet right now. Ugh.

My head is starting to hurt again. I’m thinking I’ll spend another day in bed with the ice pack and hope for the best. And by the best, I mean death, because I’m tired and I’m over it and I just… don’t care anymore.